folk what pass through here can read the sign, anyhow."
Robert smirked. "That's truer than you know," he said to Victoria. "The people around here aren't what you'd call educated."
"Yeah, yeah," Cora said. "We ain't nothing but a bunch of ignorant frontier folk. Ain't got enough sense to wash or dress ourselves or take a proper squat." Robert opened his mouth to reply, but Cora didn't pause. "Last I checked, us frontier folk was keeping you in a steady means of living, Bob."
Robert dropped his gaze to his shoes, leaving Cora and Victoria looking at the top of his hat. "Yes, well," came his voice, quiet with embarrassment, "I wasn't going to go quite that far with it."
"You can stew about it till that hat of yours wears clean through for all I care," Cora said. "I'd just thank you to do your stewing right here for a spell."
That brought Robert's head back up. "Here? Why? Where are you going?"
"Got me some business with Morgan."
"What did you do this time?" Robert asked, rolling his eyes
"Nothing that you need to worry your city-fied head over," Cora said. She turned to Victoria. "You ready?"
Victoria blinked. "Ready?"
"Good." Cora headed back toward the door. Victoria exchanged a look with Robert. He shrugged and offered her an apologetic smile. She nodded in return, then followed Cora out onto the street.
"Where are we going?" Victoria asked.
"Off to see old Morgan," Cora replied. "Ain't you been listening?"
"Who's Morgan?"
"Sheriff in these parts." Above the edge of its scabbard, the butt of Cora's rifle caught the morning sunlight as she walked. "Seems he had himself a killing last night that ain't quite what he's used to."
"What do you mean?"
"Stiffs are drained dry," Cora said.
"Dry?" The two women paused on a corner to let a carriage thunder past. "You mean they've been drained of their blood?"
"Yes ma'am. He's all in a tizzy about it, says it's the worst thing he's seen in fifteen years of sheriffing. Can't see how that is, being as he don't look a day over thirty his own self, but I reckon it ain't smart to question a lawman on his numbers."
Cora strode toward a three-story building that stood near the end of the main street. Unlike the smaller buildings around it, whose shiplap walls were in various states of decay, this edifice boasted stone walls that glowed with the color of carnelians in the sunlight. Rows of windows, their curtains drawn, faced outward into the street. The building's crown thrust a triangular wedge toward the sky like a cockscomb.
As they approached, Victoria saw a small crowd gathered around the building's pillared entrance. Cora pushed her way through the throng, and Victoria followed close on her heels. A man stood in front of the doorway, arms folded, a gun hanging from his hip. The hunter marched right past him with a curt nod. The man returned the nod, a silver star gleaming on his chest.
Cora didn't slow her march when they entered the building. Desks, chairs, and people passed in a blur as Victoria followed her to the back of the building, where they clambered back and forth up a staircase until they reached the top floor. Stepping through an open doorway, they found a man with deep-set brown eyes waiting in the hall.
"Thanks for coming," he said, extending his hand.
Cora shook it. "You know this ain't my business no more, right?"
"Sure do," the man said. A mustache the color of ripe chestnuts covered his upper lip. "Don't expect you to do nothing beyond telling us your opinion of the matter, neither."
"So long as we're clear on that." Cora stepped aside and held her hand out toward Victoria. "This here's Vicky Dawes. Vicky, this is Sheriff Morgan."
"A pleasure, ma'am."
"My name is Victoria," she replied, giving Cora a look as she shook the sheriff's hand.
"You ain't from around here, are you?" the sheriff asked.
"No, she's from England somewhere," Cora said before Victoria could answer. "Came all the way out here so she could have a chance to ride with the legendary Cora Oglesby. Wasn't none too happy to learn I ain't the riding type no more."
"You sure on that count?" Morgan asked with a pointed look at Cora's rifle.
"Sure as shit. This here's just for protection. I may have given up my spurs, but that don't mean I gave up my sense with them."
Morgan nodded and motioned for them to follow him. The trio made their way down the hall, their boots drumming a cacophony on the worn