She Returns From War by Lee Collins Read Free Book Online Page B

yourself lucky if it has."
    "Why? Is she dangerous?"
    "The Cora I remember could shoot the ears off a squirrel from fifty feet away, but she never turned her guns on anyone without reason as far as I know. She may be wild, but she's not a murderer or a train robber. Still," he added, looking at her with the same twinkle in his eye, "I wouldn't suggest making her angry."
    The earth shimmered beneath the desert sun, submerging the horizon in pulsing, hazy waves. Victoria smiled to herself as she watched the miles roll by outside the window. She had come prepared to face the legendary heat of the American West. Reaching down beneath her seat, she patted her parasol with a gloved hand, reassuring herself that it was ready for her. One could never be too cautious when entering such extreme climates, after all.
    Much like the mountains of Denver, the vast emptiness of the desert was alien to her eyes. Minute upon minute, hour upon hour, the trained sped across the sun-baked land, and still it did not end. She had been surprised to see anything at all growing out of the ground here, yet plant life carpeted much of the surrounding land. True, the shrubs seemed barely able to cling to life, their leaves a mottled yellow-brown or missing altogether, but still they persisted. Friendly cacti reared their heads above the scrub brush to wave at her with one or two arms as they kept watch over the endless miles.
    The door at the front of her passenger car opened, drawing her attention from the window. A man in a dark blue uniform and matching hat stepped through the doorway.
    "Next stop, Albuquerque. Albuquerque, next stop," he announced. "Tickets will be checked at the station for those continuing on to San Francisco." Task complete, he marched down the aisle toward the next car.
    Victoria stretched her arms skyward and groaned. She wasn't used to this much travel at one time, and her muscles ached from the uncomfortable seats. Around her, the other passengers stirred themselves out of the stupor that had blanketed them for the last two hundred miles. Hushed conversations sprang up like whispers of wind in withered branches, murmuring about luggage and next steps. Victoria pulled her own small valise out from beneath her seat, wrapping her fingers around the handle of her parasol. When she disembarked, the luggage boys would help her carry the larger trunks to a nearby hotel.
    Her fingers trembled with anticipation. She had very nearly reached the end of her westward journey. Father Baez's advice led her south, to the wilderness of Santa Fe. When she arrived, the priest there, a Father Perez, had told her to board a train for Albuquerque as soon as he heard her say the name Cora Oglesby. The huntress had set off for the frontier town not long after arriving in Santa Fe four years before, and Father Perez seemed certain that she was still there.
    The car trembled as the train pulled into the Albuquerque station. Through the windows, she could hear the shrill voice of the train's whistle crying out that they had arrived. Conversations in the car grew louder as the passengers began moving toward the exit. A few remained in their seats, staring out the windows or watching the others shuffle past. Victoria waited for the gaggle to pass before standing. Valise in hand, she made for the door, eyes fixed on the glowing swath of sunlight spilling through it.
    A blast of hot air greeted her as she stepped out of the car and onto the station platform. The glare was blinding. She quickly unfolded her parasol, blinking as it rose to block out the sun. Groups of passengers stood on the platform, talking among themselves while waiting for their luggage. Next to her, three men in pressed suits discussed the possibilities for expanding their business into this wild, untamed land. Their voices clipped along excitedly as ideas flew between them. She knew the language well enough; it brought back memories of her father and his many meetings. A lump swelled in