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 squeezed his revolver more tightly when Dr. Dawson entered the parlor, his gaze darting to the hostages. “There’s lawmen on the road. They’ll be here any minute now.
“Oh God,” Mrs. Dawson whimpered, squeezing her arms around Clara as Ned’s head burned. What the fuck was he to do?
Dr. Dawson spoke first. “There’s many of them, and if they see you here, well… you know what happens. It’s best you go before it’s too late.”
Ned’s spine frosted over, but he couldn’t argue with that logic. Dr. Dawson might not reveal their presence to the law, for fear of his wife and daughter’s safety, but there was only so much he could do if several wounded needed rest in the house.
“Remember what I said. You betray me, you send them after us, and I’ll come for you all. Sooner or later,” he said through gritted teeth, gently shaking Cole awake.
“Hn, Neddie?” The long, black lashes fluttered, and Cole looked up, tired yet sober. He closed Ned’s hand in a weak squeeze.
Ned hated himself for having to do this, but they needed to go. Mount the horses they’d left at the back of the house and ride for the hills. There was no time to waste. “A large party of men is approaching. We better leave,” he said, helping his lover sit.
Cole nodded, his features twitching as he picked up his gun belt. Ned hesitated but then helped him strap it on, just so they didn’t waste time to argue about it.
“Remember: not a word, so better get the girl upstairs before she runs her mouth,” he said grimly, but as Mrs. Dawson rose from the chair, a long banging echoed through the house and made Ned’s feet take root in the floor.
Goddamnit.
He pressed his index finger to his lips and guided Cole into the hallway, his gaze wandering to the other end, where a dark shadow loomed beyond the translucent curtain covering the glass panel in the door. Dr. Dawson stepped into the corridor too and looked Ned’s way from afar, steady and calm. Ned offered him a brief nod and dragged Cole to the kitchen, ignoring the fresh loaf of bread resting on the table even though it might have become the nourishment they’d need in their escape. But every second counted at this point, so he kissed the top of Cole’s head and opened the back door, stepping into the heat of the morning.
“Doctor, we have wounded men! Hurry,” shouted a booming voice from the other side of the house while Ned sandwiched Cole between his body and the railing to efficiently get him off the porch. Lightheaded, and wary that any unexpected noise might betray their presence too soon, he approached Nugget, but Cole shook his head. He untangled himself from the embrace before stiffly walking toward Thunder, who moved his way with a happy whicker.
“Are you sure?” Ned whispered, but when Cole met his gaze and nodded, there was no point in arguing, so he helped his lover into the saddle. Cole blinked, resting one hand on the horn. Any other time, he wouldn’t have been caught dead doing this when riding, so it was a testament to his current state. But he kept himself straight, and despite gruesome thoughts of him rolling off Thunder to break his neck, Ned climbed on Nugget’s back, ready to ride off.
At the front of the house, the doctor spoke, “Have you managed to capture all these bastards at least? There’s a special place in hell for those who cowardly kill so many people with poison.”
Ned’s heart stopped. For the briefest moment, he clung to the hope that Cole might not have heard it, but the black eyes regained their sharpness, and Cole clicked his tongue to make Thunder move, his face wary. “Ned… did you hear that?” he whispered.
Perhaps the situation could still be salvaged. Ned grabbed the reins of Cole’s mount, but before he managed to lead his lover away, Zeb shouted at the top of his lungs.
“My conscience is clean as bedsheets in a brothel, and soon enough, it’ll soak with your blood too.”
No. No. No.
Cole glanced at Ned, then at the limp arm folded against his chest with a fabric sling, and stupidly, needlessly, moved toward the front of the house, as if blood loss and shock had taken away his reason.
Ned’s insides screamed, but he couldn’t make a sound regardless of how hot his face felt. So he followed Cole’s lead, because his one alternative would have been to leave him behind. Tumbleweed wagons stood in the doctor’s front yard, caging the surviving gang members, but all the lawmen must have congregated on the porch, because there wasn’t a single one in sight.
Daylight seeped through the thick bars of a vehicle full of men whose huddled silhouettes reminded Ned of herrings squished together in a jar. Parked halfway on the road was another one, which only held women, and Ned’s heart tightened when he spotted the brilliant color of Lotta’s gown in the corner, where she’d curled up out of fear and shame. Those people had been his friends for some time, or at least it had seemed they were, but now he was free while they’d endure a long and uncomfortable journey before meeting their destiny.