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)
He was so, so tired of his own revenge quest.
If Cole left with him, Ned could send word to the Craigs and bring down the law on the Gotham Boys. He didn’t even want the reward. As long as Cole never found out Ned’s true reason for joining the gang, they could have a future, with no more lies to separate them once this was over.
“We could ride along the tracks. Catch a train at the next station,” Cole told Ned, pulling him in for a hug.
“We just need some money to start over as honest men.” His mind flared up, and he grabbed Cole’s hand. “I know of a place not far from here where they keep a treasure in a barn. They’ve dug it up in the desert. I say we take it, and then be outlaws no more.”
Light reflected in Cole’s eyes so beautifully when he smiled, and that was when Ned knew that he was utterly and hopelessly in love with this man. And that he’d spend the rest of his life with him.
Chapter 26
The kiss Cole left on Ned’s lips before riding off would burn in promise until they met again by the tree that bore their initials, but Ned was restless.
They’d chosen to split, for fear someone might see them leaving together, but half an hour since Ned had last touched his lover, not a single soul asked about Cole’s whereabouts.
They were safe.
The camp had turned loud, boisterous, lewd, and if it weren’t for the sky above and the pinch of cold on Ned’s skin whenever he strayed too far from the fires, he might have believed this to be a saloon on payday. Pearl’s injuries were serious, but despite Doc instructing her to stay down, she sat with everyone as if nothing had happened, though her pallor, and the sheen of sweat sitting on her skin like dew told a different story.
The moral split of the gang had never been as clear as tonight, because Ned knew very well the difference between celebrations and drinking to forget, and he was seeing some of both. Doc had already drunk himself into a stupor, which was very much unlike him. Moments ago, he’d confused Scotch’s old tent with a privy and pissed into his old friend’s bedroll. Sarah had managed to prevent him from rolling into the damp mess and sleeping there, but as his partner, she was the one who had to clean everything up.
Others were in a celebratory mood, counting money and showing off spoils taken from dead bodies, as if there had been honor in the way the Three Stones massacre transpired. Jewelry glinted on Mary’s neck, and she wore it like a peacock as she followed the man who’d given it to her behind the tents. If Ned’s plan worked, she wouldn’t get to take those valuables to California, like she dreamed, but he didn’t have sympathy for her plight after experiencing the rotten side of her character in the past few days.
Some people there weren’t outright bad in their hearts, but money and Butcher Tom’s promises had seduced them off the righteous path, and they would suffer for it. In another life, perhaps Doc, or Craw, or Judith could have been Ned’s friends, but he could only save one from imminent doom, so he’d chosen Cole. Like he always would.
To go unnoticed, they’d be leaving most of their possessions behind. Ned had always known he’d leave the Gotham Boys with nothing but the clothes on his back. Cole would have to give up much more, but food provisions were vital, so his chest of clothes and some other trinkets remained as if he’d gone out to hunt.
If Cole had been set on staying, Ned would have been the one passed out next to Craw after drinking too much moonshine. There would have been no other way to forget what had happened in Three Stones. But now he had a purpose. Once the law found out what Butcher Tom and his men had done, they’d get to him and his gang. Ned would make sure that happened, though he couldn’t quite believe this chapter of his life would be over so soon.
Cole didn’t need to know that it was Ned’s plan to sell out the Gotham Boys. If not just for revenge, then for justice. It didn’t matter, because he and Ned would be far away by the time the law squeezed its noose around the gang.
For now, he drank strong coffee rather than liquor, and kept himself scarce until darkness became a cloud of soot around the campfires, and folks’ eyes blurred to the point where they might not notice him creeping away.
He hated Butcher Tom. Hated Zeb. Hated even Doc, who was as disgusted as any man should be, yet shot the dying in the head with the rest of them. Still, Ned had gotten used to the easy companionship that until very recently had been devoid of moral judgment, and despite knowing all the men riding with the Gotham Boys deserved what was coming to them, guilt still poked at his heart. Because what of the women? They likely would not be hanged, but what awaited them? Prison? A life of disgrace with no one to protect them? He wouldn’t be there to bring the medicine back for Lotta.