Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
“You must promise this stays between us, Mr. O’Leary” Pearl said, pulling his thoughts back to her with a firm squeeze to his wrist. She might have been as slight in build as any other woman, but her grip wasn’t much gentler than that of a man of similar size.
Ned glanced at the two women with curiosity. While always being friendly with him, Lotta and Pearl had never paid him much attention. Which Ned was glad of, because Tom wouldn’t have liked his wives fraternizing with another man too much. But then, he saw tears in Lotta’s blue eyes, and his heart went soft like a stick of butter in the scorching sun. “It will. But I’m going into town now, so I don’t know how I can be of service.”
Lotta raised her hands and uttered a strange, broken sound before pressing both hands to the sides of her waist and twisting away as if she were so mad she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“That is the point,” Pearl said and let go of Ned to rub her friend’s back in soothing circles. “We need something from a doctor living north of Three Stones. And you can’t tell a soul we sent you there,” she said, making sure Ned kept looking at her.
The evening chill arrived far too quickly, because he was getting an idea what this could be about. “Can’t Doc, er… provide anything?”
Lotta spun around and waved her hand in front of his face, shaking her head so rapidly it messed up her hair.
“Calm—Lotta, would you shut up?” Pearl asked as if Tom’s other wife uttered a word, but instead of stilling, Lotta broke into a series of fast hand gestures, which she repeated at a slower pace once Pearl asked her to.
Pearl took a deep breath and squeezed Ned’s hand. “Doc would tell Tom. Please, Ned. I promise Tom won’t find out, and Scotch will forget your presence the moment you reach the saloon. He’s been talking about loose girls all day.”
Ned had seen Tom’s wrath, and he feared it more than he’d have liked to admit. There were many things Tom might have been willing to turn a blind eye to, but he wouldn’t have mercy for anyone who interfered in matters of his family. Anyone who liked their throat whole would have said no, but the longer he stared into Lotta’s teary eyes, the more convinced he was that helping her out was the right thing to do.
He didn’t know her story. She was the life partner of a violent man and cared for him in her own way, but she was also a young woman who didn’t have anywhere to go. For all Ned knew, her relationship with Tom might’ve been a cage Lotta could not escape. If she had his child, freedom would become unreachable. And if that poor child were born, how would Lotta raise it once Tom lay dead?
For the first time in a while, he wouldn’t feel like an outlaw only seeking his own pleasure and safety. The deed would serve as a reminder of who he truly was in his heart.
He nodded. “Tell me the details.”
Chapter 20
“Mark my words, O’Leary, they all get clingy if you let them. And if something goes wrong once, they tell all the other women, and none of them wants to open their legs for you as if your poker weren’t worthy of their sloppy cunts. They have it so good they’d forgotten their shit smells the same as mine,” Scotch said, holding on to the saddle horn to keep himself on the horse as he gradually emptied his flask in the late afternoon sun.
Ned’s least favorite part of travelling with Scotch was listening to the sewage spilling out of the man’s mouth as if it were a sick whore’s chamber pot. Half an hour into the ride, he was so tired of it he’d rather have sat on one horse and smell Scotch’s unwashed hide and stained clothes, as long as the bastard kept his mouth shut. He tried not to pay too much attention to the words, limiting his answers to nodding and grunting, because Scotch didn’t converse. He preached his unholy sermon.
What if Scotch just… fell off and broke his neck? No one could blame Ned for it. Could Ned revel in such an end for the drunk cur? If the law held him in a cell long enough, Scotch would at least lack the relief of booze during his execution, but was that really worth Ned’s effort? He doubted anyone would cry for this wretched hog.
The sky above had the color of bruising. The wispy clouds had arrived at last and covered the world in shades of purple, blue, and the occasional yellow where the sun still reached. The shadows of hills and rock formations extended beyond the horizon, reminding Ned of the upcoming night.