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)
Ned got up and dropped the vegetable into a pot with water, even though it hadn’t been peeled all the way. He could not stand this tension any longer. “That’s not the point! Why don’t you take over here if you’re so much better at it? Maybe you should get Mary to join you? Who knows, maybe she knows how to peel it real good!”
Cole rose too, stepping over the log with eyes glowing as if the sun had somehow reached his face despite the shadow cast by the rock wall above. “Neddie—”
“You have a pet name for him now?” Mary asked, appearing out of nowhere with a large bowl of meat from an animal that must have been recently butchered somewhere at the edge of the camp. Bertha’s threat must have really gotten to her.
Her smile had been bright as the sunshine above this desert, but when she met Cole’s gaze, darkness crept into her pretty face. “I hadn’t heard you call me cherry lips for two months now.”
Whatever she’d claimed earlier, she’d set her sights on a man of her own, perhaps hoping he’d join her on the mad venture of conquering San Francisco’s pleasure district. She couldn’t have chosen worse.
Ned gave Cole’s shoulder a little push and stepped away. “He does not have a pet name for me. He’s just trying to boil my blood. Ain’t that right, Coley-pie?”
Cole’s gaze hardened, his mouth setting into a stiff grimace. “No. I’m trying to talk to you, and you won’t let me.”
Bertha exhaled to let them know her patience was running thin. “Then say whatever needs to be said and do your goddamn jobs, you worthless skunks. Neither of you stained your hands with much of men’s work tonight, so at least do your part by the pot!”
“Who scouted out this place, huh?” Ned spread his arms aggressively, because the distraction of Bertha’s demands was better than having to talk about the thing to Cole. What was there left to discuss? The sole memory of that blunder was making his cheeks flush. “I’ll see if I’m needed for something else.”
Mary gave a theatrical gasp, her trim form looming close by like a rustler ready to take away Ned’s only steed. “Leave him be, Cole. Maybe you should give more attention to some of your old friends, hm?”
Ned scowled. “Yeah, you do that, Cole, and tell me how that went.” He turned around and walked off to the other bonfire, where some of the men had gathered with cups of coffee.
“Don’t tell my lady, but I’m dying for some different fare. It’s always just stew and stew with her,” Zeb said in a low voice, prompting quiet laughter.
This was the perfect spot. Cole might have approached him with the women present, but he surely wouldn’t mention anything suggestive among the men. He pushed his way between Doc and a young boy with lots of pimples, who’d earlier buried the two drifters. He poured himself some coffee and took notice of Pearl pacing about behind her tent, lips set in the same fashion Aunt Muriel’s had been on the rare occasions Uncle Liam had come home drunk. Unwilling to acknowledge trouble in Butcher Tom’s personal paradise, he ignored it and exhaled with relief as the aroma of strong brew filled his nostrils.
Across the fire from him, Tom stood in a shirt stained with blood of the animal whose meat Mary had brought to Bertha moments ago.
It wasn’t unusual to see him like this, but the angry red stains, and the smell of iron stinking up the air poked at memories Ned kept hidden. He took a deep breath, focusing on coffee and the smokiness of burning wood rather than the red sheen to Tom’s fingers. The dark lines under his nails always reminded Ned of the moment Tom’s cleaver severed his father’s elbow, splitting the forearm from the rest of his body. The door to the pantry shut after that, but Ned had heard Father scream until the very end.
He couldn’t bring himself to taste meat for several weeks after moving into Uncle Liam’s home, but Aunt Muriel had eventually got fed up of seeing him eat only potatoes and bread. She refused to feed him until he got back to eating like any other boy, and while it had hurt at the time, Ned was grateful that she hadn’t allowed him to nurse that habit.
He was stronger now, and while it took Ned several deep breaths to chase away the imagined scent of his father’s blood, he remained calm and even met Tom’s gaze over the fire.
Ned acknowledged him with a nod and swirled the coffee in his cup without a word, watching it reflect the clear sky. Perhaps it was so blue because all the clouds had gathered in his heart? Thick and dark, they were about to rain acid.