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)
“I can only remember so much about one night,” Cole said, and Ned couldn’t help his gaze wandering to Cole’s backside as they rode across a valley peppered with trees. Horse riding had given such definition to his thighs and rear, and Ned could recognize it in the way Cole moved with his mount, even though the duster he wore left much to imagination.
Ned had seen his friend naked, but improper touch had changed the innocent appreciation of his form into a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied by staring alone. His mind wandered, licking every inch of that man’s skin, and the harder Ned tried to stop himself from violating Cole with impure fantasies, the more he longed for them to become reality. Something for him only. Not for his uncle, not the revenge for his parents, not a job for the Pinkertons, or a duty to society.
He took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air to clear his head, but tension was palpable on his tongue. “It’s gonna rain,” he pointed to the dark clouds on the horizon. Even the trees seemed to change their scent in anticipation of a storm.
Cole wasn’t keen on talking about the weather, so they both went quiet, which was something so unusual Ned felt the weight of silence shift on his back and hang off his neck, keeping him from deep breaths. There was anger in the growing void between their horses, but Ned chose to do nothing about it, because he didn’t know how to address whatever caused it. Like that time he’d broken Aunt Muriel’s favorite cup when fighting with Dylan, and she’d kept it on the mantelpiece for a month, a wordless reminder of his rash behavior. But this crack in their friendship made his heart so much heavier.
He wasn’t sure Cole was aware of the cup being broken in the first place.
Over an hour into the ride, bare cliffs loomed beyond a hill sprouting dense trees, but once they rode all the way up, Ned spotted the lake that was one of their waypoints on the trip to Gedes. The sun was hidden behind the nearby mountain, but the water of the shallow pool was so clear every rock and branch resting at the bottom was easy to spot even without sun’s rays hitting the surface.
With rocky shores surrounded by dense bushes, and tall trees to provide shade, it was the reflection of the world in its natural state, unspoiled by people and their actions. And as if to prove Ned’s thoughts true, a fawn emerged across the water and lowered its head to drink. No railway would ever rip through here.
“Let’s take a break,” Cole decided, already descending the hill.
“You got any provisions? Saul gave me some of his jerky, so I took it to not offend him, but it’s foul.” Ned rushed past him to reach the lake first.
Cole laughed for the first time since they’d left camp. “You hate dried meat, don’t you? Mr. O’Leary deserves finer things in life. Fresh bread, butter, and roast pork.”
Ned smiled, relieved that the unspoken tension finally dispersed. “What can I say? My aunt might be prudish and stubborn as a donkey but she sure knows how to cook. Remember that cake we had the day we left? Cinnamon, raisins, porter.” He let out a happy groan at the memory of its flavor, which had been further sweetened by Cole’s boldness that day. The treat had been stolen along with Ned and Nugget.
Cole dismounted and rested against Thunder, watching the fawn rush off while the horse drank. “Maybe you should pay her a visit sometime.”
Ned’s boots hit the pebbles, and he patted Nugget on the neck, to let him know he was free to roam. “I think I did a good job at the train, so no need for that kind of prodding just because of cake. I’ll eat the jerky if need be.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person to be sick of camp life. Lotta might not mention it, but she’d much rather live in some townhouse, collecting fine china, as if she’d been born into wealth. Don’t let her manners fool you. Her father’s a farmer, and he wouldn’t take her back even if she no longer wanted to ride with us,” Cole said, pulling off his hat and dropping it to the bright green moss that created a dense carpet from where he stood all the way to the water.
Ned scowled, sensing an invisible hand tighten around his neck. “Are you trying to suggest I should leave? Doubt my family would take me back either.” Too much was on the line. On several occasions in the past few days, he’d almost died for his revenge, so he wouldn’t be giving up any time soon. He would not be ousted from the gang over a drunken mistake. But what stung most was that a man he’d grown to consider his friend no longer wanted him around.