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)
“Look what I have for you. Craw must have left it behind,” he said, presenting Ned with a bouquet of wild flowers, much like the one he’d seen Zeb carry for Bertha last night.
“Aren’t you beef-headed? What next? If you’re gonna buy me a ring, it better be gold.” Ned laughed at the silliness of it. They were both men. Even if they shared a bed, they’d still remain friends. Things between them would never become… sweet.
Cole let him go and tossed the flowers to the side of the road before dropping his behind in the seat next to Ned’s. But instead of doing it properly, he left his feet among all the goods for sale and faced Ned that way. “What about gold watches? We have a crate of them, but these are most expensive,” he said and presented Ned with a wooden box. He placed it in his lap and opened the lid, revealing close to a dozen timepieces laid out on a bed of blue fabric.
Ned raised his eyebrows when the metal reflected the sun into his face. “Are you trying to get me killed? If Tom found out I took one, he’d take a finger off my hand as compensation. And that’s just because he likes me.”
Cole snorted. “You saved his life. I say this should give you some privilege. Besides, I’ll just pay its worth into the funds. Choose the one you want,” he said, pushing the box at Ned.
“Why? I’ve got my own share, remember?” Ned cocked his head, but wouldn’t lie—he always wished to have a shiny timepiece pronouncing to the world that he was a man of worth. And it would have made meeting with Cole at specific times so much easier.
Cole bit the inside of his cheek, sucking in the flesh as he thought it through. “You did save my life twice.” He hovered his hand over the watches before pulling out a gold piece with delicate patterns at the back. “This one would fetch the highest price. You should take it.”
Ned held the pocket watch in his open palm. The engraving featured a stag with its chest pushed out with pride and a tiny emerald for an eye. He shouldn’t even consider taking it. What was loot to Cole and the gang could’ve been someone’s heirloom, a beloved watch given to a son for his trip to the West. Then again, the rightful owner would never get it back anyway. “You ever think about the people who lost all this?”
Cole’s brows lowered, and he tipped his hat to protect himself from the sun. “Why should I? They won’t starve without their trinkets. My pa was shot because someone didn’t like him being with my ma. We had nothing after that, and the neighbors didn’t lift a finger to help.” He gave the box a gentle shake to make his point. “People who wear things like this are born into a world of cream and sugar while others only have watered oats and won’t ever get more doing honest work. Why shouldn’t I take from their table sometimes?”
Just thinking of Cole as the hungry boy who had eventually lost even his mother pulled at Ned's heartstrings, because he knew hunger so viscerally he wouldn’t dare think of what he’d done to survive. But Cole hadn’t been a part of the gang when the Gotham Boys took everything not from rich folks but from homesteaders in the mountains and wasn’t at fault for Ned’s personal tragedy.
Ned put the watch into his pocket. “The world isn’t fair, is it? Once I was left at my uncle’s I worked so hard at the ranch to prove myself, and he still kicked me out when his daughter started makin’ eyes at me.”
The heat in Cole’s gaze was unmistakable when he nodded. “That’s right. Simple folk are stuck in a pit of shit, and the harder they try climbing out of it, the farther they slide down. So I won’t hesitate to take the things I want, even when people say it’s not right. Money. Jewelry—“ He swallowed and pulled on Ned’s chin to make their eyes meet. “You.”
Ned’s face heated. Nobody had told him to put his hands on a man to make his job easier, or that he’d be protected from the consequences of it, yet here he was—a willing participant in the crime. “I didn’t put up much of a fight…”
Cole gave him a brief, hard kiss, shifting closer in the seat until their hips met. “Whores talk, you know. I heard things when I lived in the cathouse. What they really think about the customers, and how little pleasure they get out of it. I want someone who wants me back for me, not survival.”
Ned put his arm around Cole’s waist, as warm on the inside as his skin was from the sunshine. “You couldn’t buy yourself the services of a man anyway…” He frowned and glanced at Cole. “Could you?”