to her shoulders. Uneasy, she lifted her gaze toward the treetops, sifting through the branches with her keen brown eyes. The blue sky winked at her from between clusters of green needles. Her fingers began to throb, the chill digging in toward her bones.
A sudden breeze pulled at her hat and caused Our Lady to shift her weight. Cora felt the horse roll and pitch beneath her, but her gaze never left the trees. The branches were swaying with the wind, but something didn't look right. Deep in the maze of prickly limbs, she could see a gray shadow in the branches that lagged behind the motion of the trees. She couldn't make out a recognizable shape at this distance, but that hardly mattered. Maybe it was a bird or a confused bear, or maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, she blamed it for the unnatural chill in her veins.
Forcing her cold arms into action, she leveled her revolver at the shadow. It was a long shot for a pistol, but she didn't want to waste time pulling out the Winchester. The pain in her fingers made it hard to hold the gun steady. She gripped her gun arm with her other hand and closed one eye, sighting down the barrel. The gunshot clapped her ears and rolled through the winter forest. Our Lady flinched at the noise. The kickback stung Cora's fingers, but she forced her thumb to pull the hammer back a second time.
When the smoke cleared, the gray shape had vanished from the branch. Cora's eyes darted to the base of the tree. Nothing. Keeping her gun raised, she checked the surrounding trees. Seconds passed, but the only movement was the breeze through the branches. Her gun hand began tingling. Looking down, she flexed her fingers around the grip. They were still cold, but feeling was returning.
"Did you see anything?" Ben asked.
Cora replied with a shrug. She holstered her revolver, turned her back on the forest and punched Our Lady's sides with her heels. The mare sprang into motion. Ben spurred his own horse after her, giving the trees one last look as they rode across the meadow.
"Refresh my memory, marshal. What time did you and your deputy find that clearing again?"
Mart Duggan looked up from the newspaper, annoyed to find this woman standing in his office. Where the hell was Sanchez? Why hadn't he stopped her from barging in like this? Looking past her into the front room of the station, he could see the deputy's boots propped up on the desk. If Victor wasn't asleep yet, he would be in the next fifteen minutes. Duggan cursed under his breath and looked back at the strange woman, his patience that much shorter.
"Sometime in the morning," he answered.
"I remember that part." Cora helped herself to the chair facing the marshal. "But how early or late was it?"
Duggan folded the paper in a messy heap and leaned his elbows on the desk. "Early. No more than an hour past sunup."
Cora's brow furrowed. "You're sure? It wasn't still night?"
"Yes, I'm sure, Mrs Oglesby. Jack and I was following up on a report we got first thing that morning. Somebody had been out on a morning ride when they came across that spot and high-tailed it back to town to tell us about it."
"Who was it that told you about it?"
"Bill Hicks."
"Who's Bill Hicks?"
The marshal leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Look, Mrs Oglesby, I ought to thank you for being so eager to look into this for me, but I ain't got time to discuss the townsfolk with you. I'm a busy man, and Leadville is a busy town. Until you got any real results for me, please leave me to my business."
"Is that right?" Cora stomped her boots on the floor.
"It is."
"Well then, it just so happens that I may have caught me a glimpse of your culprit."
The marshal picked up the newspaper. "What did he look like?"
"Can't say, really," Cora replied. "It wasn't a very good glimpse."
"So it wasn't the spook you thought it was, then?" Duggan said, not looking up.
"I ain't the only one who thinks it's a spook. Your deputy Jack thinks the same as me."
"I can't help hiring idiots from time to time."
Cora snorted a laugh through her nose. "Seems to me you can't help being one, either."
Duggan's boots slammed on the wooden floor as he stood to his feet, the newspaper scattering. He planted one hand on his