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)
The moonlight revealed a tall figure on top of the coal wagon, and when the stranger raised the rifle again, Cole shouted before a bullet hit the ground close to Nugget’s hoofs. “You can’t help him anymore. Let’s go!”
Ned’s stomach clenched. “But—”
Cole scowled at him. “Follow me!”
And so Ned did. He followed the only man he trusted in a gang he was now a part of.
Chapter 11
Ned had tasted blood throughout their escape, even after he’d washed in a creek, and by the time he and Cole reached a mining town tucked between two hills, he still felt its tang on his tongue. It was closing in on midnight when they left the horses at livery stables, but the single street between two rows of tiny cabins and tents, packed on the slopes like kernels on an ear of corn, swarmed with workers celebrating a milestone in extraction. One might have thought they didn’t have to show up to work first thing in the morning, because the settlement was alive with music and laughter despite the late hour.
The scent of roasted meat and beer wasn’t intense enough to mask the gravel-like smell that clung to all the inhabitants, but it meant safety, so Ned followed Cole’s lead, taking in the buildings that housed the most profitable businesses—the saloon, the general store, the company office, and the cathouse. They were raw wood and nails, but in contrast to the ramshackle town sprouting around them looked as though they might keep intruders out for more than a minute.
The warm, dusky glow of the kerosene lamps left the muddy ground that sucked in Ned’s feet obscured and turned the few women of the town into proper ladies, their cheap finery glamorous enough to fool the drunken eye. In the festive atmosphere, mine workers gravitated between places of entertainment, some of which had been set up for the celebratory occasion. There was a magic lantern show, a tent where men could compete for a prize by throwing horseshoes, and a rather large canvas dancing hall at the very end of the main street, which drew Ned’s attention with its bright lights and music.
Despite the merry atmosphere, Ned didn’t feel like speaking much, and Cole had eventually joined his silence, which lasted all the way until they reached the plain interior of the saloon. Warm with the heat of sweaty bodies, it had that distinct odor of unwashed flesh, smoke and liquor. Maybe if they stayed here for long enough, Ned could forget the phantom smell of Adam Wilde’s blood, and that of the dead passengers.
As newcomers, they were subject to stares, but Ned chose to ignore any intrusive gazes and rested on a stool far too small to be comfortable for a grown man’s behind. Leaning against the wall by the corner table, he accepted a cigarette from Cole and lit it. He couldn’t enjoy the merry tune sung by the locals, as if his heart was locked to joy, but the sharp smoke fogged up his mind just enough to make life bearable.
“Guess we can at least afford plenty of liquor,” he muttered to Cole, pulling up his hat to comb his fingers through messy hair, annoyed by how sweaty it felt. His aunt had always insisted he stayed tidy. So he shaved every morning, had her cut his hair, washed at least twice a day, and changed his clothes to avoid the musty smell of sweat. The illusion of civility was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
Cole licked his lips and twisted in the seat, waving at the bartender. “A bottle of rye. From your top shelf!”
The guilt gnawing at Ned’s insides urged him to gamble with his own health and punish his stomach with the sharpest moonshine. If he ended up poisoned, he’d at least never see any other man die. But Cole didn’t seem keen on burning his tongue with some red-eye, even if this place surely didn’t have whisky that excelled in terms of flavour.
A boy of around ten, pale and thin as an old horse, took the bottle out of the saloon keeper’s hands and ran up to their table. Cole pulled two coins out of his wallet and placed them in the runt’s hand. “One’s for your master. Get yourself some food with the other.”
Ned stilled in surprise, but he only spoke once the boy was off. “You tryin’ to even out the scales after earlier with this charity?” he asked in a grim voice, watching the packed room from under the brim of his hat. The men who’d come here to drink, laugh, and play cards might not engage in the most savory pursuits, but they did honest work, which could not be said about neither Ned nor Cole.
Cole opened the bottle and filled the two glasses that had come with it. The muddy liquor twisted Ned’s features, but he was still glad for the way it burned away the aftertaste of the robbery.