looking for someone, and I was instructed to begin my search here."
Confusion deepened Sister Alice's wrinkles. "A member of the clergy?"
"Not exactly," Victoria said, "although I believe this person has worked closely with the priesthood in years past. Her name is Cora Oglesby."
"Can't say I've heard of her," Sister Alice replied. "What work did she do?"
Doubt began creeping into Victoria's thoughts. Had James Townsend been mistaken? "Well," she said, "as I understand it, she is a sort of bounty hunter. One of those rough-and-tumble gunfighters that populate the American frontier."
"That's strange. I don't know what need the Church would have of a bounty hunter. You said she worked for our parish?"
"To be honest, I'm not sure." Victoria watched the nun's confusion with a sinking feeling. "I'm working on information I received from an Oxford scholar who claims to have worked with this woman in the past. I have very urgent business with her, and he advised me to ask the Catholic clergy to help me find her."
Sister Alice gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, child. Can't say I've ever heard of any bounty hunter working for the Church, especially not one who's a woman."
"Is there anyone you might ask?" Victoria said.
"Father Baez may know," Sister Alice said, "but he's probably still asleep."
"I know it's terribly rude to ask, but could you see if he would speak with me?" Victoria unconsciously twisted her fingers together. "It really is dreadfully important."
Sister Alice looked off to her right for a moment. Victoria could almost see the scales balancing in the nun's head as she weighed the request. If Sister Alice refused to help her, Victoria would chain herself to one of the pews until this Father Baez appeared. If he couldn't help her, she would just have to move on to the next city.
"Well," Sister Alice said, turning back to her, "I don't normally like to bother him, but since you've come all this way, I suppose I can go check on him. Don't expect much, though."
"Thank you so much," Victoria said.
The nun nodded. "Have yourself a seat," she said, pointing to a pew. "I'll be back soon."
Victoria sat, the wood creaking slightly under her. Sister Alice disappeared through a door on one side of the altar, her habit vanishing into the shadows beyond.
Leaning back into the pew, Victoria folded her hands in her lap. She tried to imagine what her father or mother would say if they found her in such a place, waiting to hear whether or not a Catholic priest knew where to find an American bounty hunter. She shook her head and smiled. It really did sound absurd, and that she was traveling alone made it all the more so.
Still, she had reason to believe she could follow through with what she'd started. After all, she'd managed the trip across the Atlantic with little difficulty. It had taken the Jewel of Scotland just over two weeks to make the passage. Victoria spent much of her time aboard in her cabin, searching histories from her father's collection for any references to black shucks. When her eyes grew tired, she would venture above deck to watch the ocean swell beneath the ship. Spring storms blossomed on the horizon, dark and menacing, but the Jewel slid by them without incident.
When she'd made port in New York City, she gave the immigrations office slight pause. They were unused to a woman traveling alone, but in the end they'd waved her through. One of their officers had pointed her in the direction of the rail station, and she'd easily found a coach to take her through the maze of streets. Grand Central Station had been grand indeed, and the endless press of bodies took her breath away. Once she'd regained her head, she found a train bound for Denver and bought herself a ticket. Indeed, the hardest part of her journey had been adjusting to the coarse way Americans had of speaking.
Echoing footsteps pulled her back into the present. Looking up, she saw Sister Alice emerge from the doorway. A man