hunter pulled a rifle out of her back scabbard as she rode. Somehow, she managed to hold it level as the horse ran beneath her, aiming at something Victoria couldn't see. Even at this distance, the gunshot clapped her ears like thunder. She flinched along with her horse, cowering slightly in the saddle. A second shot.
When the ringing in her ears died away, she could hear Cora whooping at her. She looked in the direction of the hollers and saw the old hunter pointing at the ground.
"What is it?" Victoria asked.
"Supper," Cora replied. "Now go on and fetch it up."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Them's the rules, Vicky. One shoots, the other roots."
"My name is Victoria."
"Sure is." Cora slid the rifle back into the scabbard. "If you don't pick up that hare, I'll make sure they carve it up real pretty on your tombstone."
Victoria couldn't tell how serious Cora was, but she figured it was safer not to take chances. Father Baez's warning came back into her mind, bringing with it a slight chill despite the afternoon sun. The old hunter was more than just her hope for vengeance now. Out here, she was also her best hope for survival. While she probably wouldn't shoot her outright, Cora could easily make this trip and the trip to England miserable if she chose.
Sighing, Victoria turned her horse toward her companion. Keeping her hand on her new gun, she climbed down from the saddle and walked to where Cora was pointing. Her boots rubbed against her blisters, but at least her feet were safe from the rocks and spines covering the ground. She smiled at the thought. She might be traveling with a woman of questionable sanity toward a rendezvous with two not-quite-human creatures in the middle of the American desert, but at least she wasn't wearing her dressing gown this time. Indeed, before she'd discovered just how uncomfortable they could be, she'd quite liked the sight of herself dressed in such a roguish manner.
Her smile vanished when she caught sight of a small, bloody mass lying among the brambles. She glanced back at Cora, but the hunter merely waved her on. Steadying herself, Victoria stepped toward the remains. Tan fur streaked with brown covered a small, round body. The rabbit's head was gone, its neck ending in a red, oozing stump. Victoria held one hand over her mouth and nose as she reached toward the animal. She wrapped her fingers around one long, furry leg and lifted. The rabbit was heavier than she expected. Its front legs hung at awkward angles, one foot pointing accusingly back at her.
Holding the carcass at arm's length, Victoria turned back to Cora and held it out.
"Ain't you going to tie it up?" Cora said.
"What?"
"Well, I reckon you could carry it in your lap the rest of the way if you're so inclined, but most folk like to tie up their kills."
"It isn't my kill, it's yours," Victoria said.
"You'll change your tune come nightfall," Cora said. "Won't be nothing better in all the world than half a roast hare. We can't roast it if we don't have it, and I ain't carrying it." She turned Our Lady around and nudged her forward.
"Wait!" Victoria said, running after her. "How am I supposed to tie it up?"
Reaching into one of her saddlebags, Cora produced a spool of twine and tossed it to her. "Don't tell me you can't tie a knot, or I might just give up on you right here."
Victoria replied with a huff of indignation. Setting the carcass down, she recovered the spool from where it had fallen and walked back to her horse. She wasn't a frontier explorer or fur trapper, but she could at least tie a knot. Aristocratic society in England came with its own set of dangers and trappings. Without a rudimentary knowledge of knots and bows, she'd have embarrassed herself at more than one social.
Tying a headless rabbit to a horse in the middle of the desert was a new application of that knowledge, however. She figured the saddle horn was as good a place as any to loop the first knot. Holding the twine in place with one hand, she balanced the spool on the saddle seat. Pulling a long, horrid knife - yet another piece of her new outfit - from her belt, she sawed at the bit of twine joining her loop to the spool. After it snapped, she quickly put the knife back in her belt and proceeded to