She Returns from War - By Lee Collins Page 0,31

teeth in a hideous grin as it turned and ambled back toward the house. Once it disappeared through the door, she turned her look of confusion on the man.

He scowled back. "Let's get this over with."

Crouching down, he presented his back to her. She gingerly bent over him, clasping her arms around his neck. His skin was icy to the touch. Wrapping a hand around each of her legs, he stood to his feet and shrugged his shoulders. "You ain't nothing, darling."

Before she could reply, he sprang away. His legs became a blur beneath them as he picked up speed, each stride taking them yards at a time. She tightened her grip around his neck. Despite his appearance, the man didn't stink. In fact, he barely had any smell at all. The barren landscape slid past them with alarming speed, the brush becoming a smooth stream of colors punctuated every so often by large dark shapes. Wind whistled past her ears and stung her eyes. She squinted against it, blinking back the tears so she could still see where they were going. Even if she couldn't change the man's direction or speed, being able to see the desert ahead of them gave her some feeling of control.

Soon, Victoria found herself settling into the journey. For all his lecherousness and arrogance, the man's stride didn't jostle her around nearly as much as she thought it would. She almost felt as though she were back on the train, riding through the night on her way home. But for the wind, she might have dozed off.

After a while, she could see a large shadow ahead, crouched against the horizon. As it grew, the man began slowing his pace. Indistinct shapes became houses and buildings. Soon, she could make out the main avenue, along which stood Cora's saloon. She even thought she recognized the train station, a squat building to the left of the biggest cluster.

Her courier stopped before they reached the buildings and dumped her on the ground. Holding out her arms to break her fall, she scraped one of her palms bloody. She picked herself up and turned to face him, cradling her injured hand. His blue eyes simmered with an inflamed hunger.

"You ain't making this easy, darlin," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, drawing away from him.

He just shook his head. "There's others. Don't get it in your head that I ain't fixing for you, though. That squaw ain't the boss of me, and I reckon I'll have my way with you soon enough. Maybe I'll even make you my wife. How'd you like that?"

Victoria's back stiffened. Another betrothal she wanted no part of. "Thank you for bringing me back," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I could do with a good sleep."

"One more thing." He leaned in close, his breath brushing her cheek. "Tell that Oglesby bitch that I'm gunning for her."

The reply left her mouth before she could think twice. "What shall I say? 'Oh, Madam Oglesby, a gentleman said he wants you dead'? Hardly a credible threat."

His eyes flashed. "I ain't got to take your lip, missie."

"It isn't cheek, my good man," Victoria said. "I'm just not certain Cora will take an anonymous threat seriously. She's not exactly a timid woman."

"Oh, she'll listen to me," he said. A smirk came to his lips then. "Tell her that Fodor Glava is aiming to finish what he started."

FIVE

Victoria chose a more demure dress to call on Cora Oglesby the next day: cream-colored with brown trim about the neck and cuffs. She woke just before noon and took her time preparing herself, rehearsing what she might say to the old hunter to change her mind. Nothing sounded right. It didn't help that she had used her strongest pleas the day before, and Cora probably wouldn't be swayed by tales of desert-dwelling demons. Whatever else the old woman was, she wasn't tractable.

Her anxiety mounted as she stepped out of the hotel's front door and began walking toward the saloon. If she couldn't convince Cora to come with her, what would the red-eyed woman do in retaliation? Her control over the other man, while not absolute, was certainly frightening. If he had other enslaved creatures like the bearded nightmare, he should be easily able to overwhelm the Indian woman, yet he bowed to her will. If she could command him, a man she openly acknowledged as a demon, what could she do to a mere human? Victoria tried not to think

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