we can pull enough wheat to make our daily bread out of the soil here. Ain't like back home. Soil was as rich and black as sin, and so thick you could damn near eat it with your hands."
Victoria grimaced at the thought. "Where is your home?"
"Back in Virginia. Pa had himself a nice stead on the river, and me and Ma kept him company while he tilled the soil. Nothing big and fancy, mind you, but he raised enough as kept us fed. Least, he did until the damn Yankees took to burning us farm folk out of house and home."
"They did what?"
"Don't matter none now." Cora heaved a large jug up onto the bar. "This here's what matters. Now then, you want yourself a fancy glass as fits a proper lady or the hog troughs we locals use?"
Victoria blinked at the jug. "I believe I'll try blending in for once," she said after some consideration.
"Ain't much chance of that, specially now," Cora remarked. Her head disappeared below the bar for a moment. Victoria heard clinking, and the hunter reappeared with two short glasses clasped in her fingers. "You look like you ain't got all your cows in the pen with that getup."
"It couldn't be helped," Victoria replied, taking the offered glass. "My new clothes needed washing, and this was in my trunk."
"Not many women in these here parts fancy six shooters as decoration," Cora said.
Victoria straightened the gun belt around her waist. "I'd rather look a fool than be one. After what nearly happened in here last time, I refuse to walk these streets without a means of defending myself."
"Well, now," Cora said, favoring her with a grin, "it seems the lady's got herself a shred of sense in that pretty little head of hers after all. I'll drink to that." The cork popped from the jug with a hollow sound. Cora sloshed brown, foul-smelling liquid into the glasses. Setting the jug down, she picked up the glass closest to her and raised it. "To sense!"
Victoria delicately mimicked her gestures. Whiskey spilled onto her fingers as Cora rammed the glasses together. The hunter tossed hers back without missing a beat, but Victoria raised the liquid to her face for inspection. This close, the smell burned her nostrils, bringing tears to her eyes. Blinking them away, she took a deep breath. She'd gotten herself into this with her own foolish curiosity, so it was best to see it through. Keeping her eyes fixed on her reflection in the bar's mirror, she took a sip.
At first, she couldn't distinguish Cora's laughter from her own coughing. One soon died out before the other, however, and she glared at the hunter until the laughter finally stopped.
"This ain't tea, little missie," Cora said, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. "Faster you drink, the less you taste."
"So the idea isn't to savor it?"
Another laugh shook the hunter's shoulders. "Not any more than folk savor anything else in these parts. Thing is, this here whiskey's good at getting the other disagreeable parts of life to not be quite so disagreeable, you follow me?"
Victoria nodded, studying the remaining liquid in her glass. With a swiftness that surprised even her, she brought it to her lips and threw her head back. Fire blossomed in her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow it. A burning trail lined her throat. Eyes watering, she fought the urge to cough as the flames spread through her torso. After a few seconds, the worst of it passed. The fire became a pleasant warmth in her belly. She shook her head once, then offered the hunter a smile.
Cora returned it. "That's how it's done proper."
"Now I know why," Victoria replied hoarsely. She cleared her throat. "It does make me curious who first thought to drink such a foul-tasting concoction, though."
"I'm just glad they did," Cora said. "You want another?"
Victoria nodded, surprising herself again. Cora refilled both glasses. "What should we drink to this time?" she asked.
Running her fingers around the rim of the glass, Victoria pondered the question. Several ideas floated to the top of her mind: victory, vengeance, the destruction of their foes. While certainly worth drinking to, she felt it might be somewhat premature. She'd never exactly believed in luck, good or bad, but she'd never believed in vampires until a few days ago. If they existed, luck and jinxes on that luck might, too. Not willing to take the risk, she chose something safer if more mundane.