you can do that much," Cora said, "though I'd try to do it without wincing next time if I was you."
"I don't want it to go off before I'm ready is all," Victoria said.
"No worry about that unless you get your fine lady fingers on the trigger," Cora replied. "These here guns are good quality. So long as you treat them right, they ain't never going to let you down." She urged her mare forward, beckoning for Victoria to follow. "Come on, now. Ain't no reason you can't learn to ride and shoot at the same time."
Reluctantly, Victoria gave her gelding a punch with her heels. Her stomach twisted inside her, feeling like it was going to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She swallowed. No need to worry. If this rustic, uneducated woman could master the use of guns, so could she. One of her grandfathers had served in the Royal Navy, hunting pirates far and wide. She had the blood of a soldier in her veins; firing a gun would soon become second nature.
"Now, then," Cora said, "I reckon even a fine lady is familiar with the simple idea of a gun, right? You just point it at something and pull the trigger?"
"Yes."
"Good. Means we can go on to the finer bits of it. First off, you got to pick something you think would be better with a few more holes in it." Cora pointed at a large bush ahead of them on her right. "There, now, that looks like it might be trouble if we don't see to it first, don't it?"
"I suppose, yes," Victoria replied.
"Once you've got your target, all you got to do is point the gun, pull back the hammer, and squeeze the trigger. It's best if you try to aim a bit first, though. No good wasting bullets if you ain't got to, especially the ones we shoot." Cora leveled her arm at the bush. "Aiming's best if you close one eye and line up the sight over your varmint. Once you got your shot lined up, pull back the hammer." She demonstrated. "This is about as far as you get when aiming at most folk. Even them as call themselves outlaws will go all watery in the legs when you got a bead on them. Real outlaws and monsters, well, they're a different story."
"Have you ever shot another human?" Victoria asked.
"You bet your bonnet I has," Cora said. "Back in my younger days, me and Ben would fall afoul with bandits every now and again. Some we knew, some we didn't, but it don't matter none when the other feller's sending lead your way. So we shot back, killed a handful, and the rest tucked tail."
"Who's Ben?"
Cora's gun arm drooped. She looked down at Our Lady of Virginia without replying. Victoria watched her, suddenly anxious, the revolver in her hand forgotten. The silence stretched out like the desert around them. In the distance, some animal let out a high-pitched cry, and Victoria's gelding tossed his head.
"My late husband," Cora finally said.
Victoria felt a tug of pity for the old gunfighter. "I'm sorry. How did he die?"
"Ain't none of your business is how," Cora said. Without warning, she brought her Colt back up and fired. The gunshot jolted Victoria from head to toe and stuffed her ears with cotton. The gelding whinnied in alarm.
Cora spurred Our Lady into a trot, putting several yards between them. "There now," she called over her shoulder, "you give it a try."
Victoria remembered the revolver in her hand. She squeezed the grip against her palm and lifted it. It wasn't as big as some of the ones she'd seen the men in Albuquerque carry, but it was still heavy for its size. Holding it out at arm's length made it difficult to keep the barrel raised. Gritting her teeth, she closed one eye and looked down the gun at the bush Cora had picked out. The metal nub at the end of the barrel wavered in her hand. She forced it to hold still while she pulled the hammer back. The cylinder rotated with a soft click.
Now for the moment of reckoning.
Closing her eyes, she pulled the trigger. The Colt stung her fingers as it jolted in her hand, but she kept her hold on it. Her horse broke into a run, nearly throwing her backward out of the saddle. Her free hand wrapped around the saddle horn before she could open her eyes. Instinct took