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 opened his lips, but Thaddeus spoke first. “It’s understandable that to make yourself credible, you might need to act in an unsavory manner, and we will protect you from unwanted consequences, but under no circumstances may you kill anyone, Mr. O’Leary. The repercussions of such—”
Ned sat up straight. “Kill? Who do you think I am, Mr. Craig? I will stray from violence where possible and, if only I can, keep innocents from suffering the fate of my family. I will make the Gotham Boys trust me, and look Butcher Tom in the eye when he hangs.”
“That’s a good man,” Old Craig said and pulled out a small card, which he placed in front of Ned. “If you need to contact us, telegraph this address. Memorize it, so you don’t get discovered with this card on you. Let us know when the Butcher intends to be in Iron Trail City, but don’t waste our time,” he said sternly. “It’s understandable that you might have more questions. We’ll be staying at the Beaver Springs saloon for the next two days.”
“And how do I find their camp?” Ned asked with his mouth dry as woodchips.
“What’s that sound?” Homer Craig inquired with a frown and arched his neck to look out the window.
Ned heard it now too. A… harmonica? He stood up to find out which of the farm hands idled the day away, but when his gaze settled on the road leading from the gateway into the ranch, his stomach did a backflip.
“That’s… Cole Flores,” he said, watching the rider in black approach the house without hurry, his hands holding the instrument to his lips as he played a cheery tune.
Chapter 4
Ned’s palms were as wet as a dog in the rain as he faced the door, breathing in the scent of warm cake. The Craigs grew frantic, asking whether there was an alternative route back to Beaver Springs, but by the time the sound of the harmonica died, Ned could barely think and only answered that last question after Thaddeus had shaken his arm.
Loud footsteps made Ned stiffen, his gaze trained on the door to the parlor, and he swallowed, worried what might happen if Cole faced the agents, but it was just Aunt Muriel.
“You’re popular today, aren’t you, Ned? Another gentleman caller for you. I told him to wait on the porch,” she said, offering the Pinkertons an apologetic smile.
“Very funny,” Ned groaned, but nodded at the two men and dashed down the corridor, fighting to calm the heart rattling in his chest. He wasn’t ready for this meeting yet. He needed time to think of what he’d say, but no such luck.
The presence of the two men in the parlor was a splinter at the back of his mind, but as he neared the front door and stopped in front of it, like a young woman about to attend her first ever dance, the danger of them being discovered ceased to matter.
The only sound Ned could hear as his hand hovered over the door handle was the beating of his own heart.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Why was Cole here? He wouldn’t have played music if he’d come with ill intentions.
Surely.
Ned opened the door, squinting when the sun blinded him for a second, peeking from behind the tall silhouette in black. The majestic stallion stood hitched to the porch railing, and was as striking as its master.
Cole glanced over his shoulder, his smile widening when the dark eyes met Ned’s. “Hey, friend!”
Ned smiled back despite his lips feeling like two slabs of ham. Had the Craigs left yet through the back door? Or would they just wait for Ned’s life to unravel?
“Cole, was it? Never thought I’d see you again.” He leaned against the door frame, desperate to appear casual.
Cole removed his wide-brimmed hat and pressed it against his chest. “We worked well together. Would be a lost opportunity if we never met again,” he said, looking straight at Ned, as if he didn’t consider it provocation. He cut a fine figure in the black duster that made him appear even taller than he already was, and while he hadn’t shaved this morning and black dots peppered his cheeks, he wore a fresh shirt. When the breeze carried his scent to Ned, it surprised him with an exotic note that wasn’t like any flowers he’d smelled before.
Ned’s mind was a speeding locomotive with more coal being added by the second. This was an opportunity rolling into his lap like a kitten. Whatever happened, he needed to endear himself to Cole and use him to find his way to Butcher Tom and the others. “Adventure of my life really. Shame someone took French leave with my cash by the time I got back down.” He searched Cole’s eyes, thinking of a reserved way of suggesting he’d be up for more action. Cole stared back, his gaze bold, but Ned wasn't sure whether they wordlessly communicated about the same thing.