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 way he seemed to be assessing Ned’s clothes made Ned self-conscious. To a man with boots as fine as Cole’s, Ned surely looked like a simpleton good enough to use for strength but nothing more. That was fine by Ned. He’d be the snake in the grass. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Ned had left home and was venturing into the unknown ocean in a tiny rowboat, but it was a new beginning. Just this morning, he’d woken up hungover, aimless, and with no idea how to add meaning to his life. Now, he had a purpose.
He’d been a good nephew for so many years. Meek, pushing down his dreams and needs to fit in, fighting his instincts to challenge his cousins, and pretending to pray at church. But that honest, quiet life was now over.
So to hell with it, he’d eat the damn stolen cake.
He grinned at Cole and when offered another bite, he leaned forward and reached into the man’s bag for the whole tin. When Cole’s lips parted in shock, Ned spurred Nugget on to a trot and carried the cake with him. No one said a blood-soaked path of revenge couldn’t be a little bit fun.
Chapter 5
They’d only ridden for six hours by the time it started getting dark, but time passed like in a dream. Cole played his harmonica when they didn’t chat, and Ned whistled along. Cole seemed so amazed by the simple melody Ned couldn’t help but show off that he was also good at imitating bird calls. It turned out Cole never learned to whistle, so they spent a good hour on him trying to learn, without success. There wasn’t much of substance in their saddlebags, and neither of them was keen on hunting, but the dense, spicy cake would see them through the night.
They set up camp by a steep rock wall, which offered protection from the wind. Grass here was taller and would cushion them in their sleep, and a tall oak provided some protection in case of rain. A perfect spot, even if it left them somewhat exposed. When Ned spent nights outdoors, he preferred greater seclusion, but this wasn’t a time to be picky.
“You’re gonna miss your aunt’s cooking,” Cole mused as he sat on his bedroll, facing the fire with a slice of cake in hand. The light licked his handsome face, and Ned had to force himself to look away.
“You don’t cook for yourself, do you? How big is that camp of yours?” Ned was eager to find out more not just for the Pinkertons, but for his own sake. If the ranks of the Gotham Boys had swelled through the years, he’d be in more danger. That didn’t mean he’d chicken out, but mental preparedness was key.
Cole looked up, cheeks full of the cake while he rummaged through his bag to produce the harmonica he’d played earlier. Ned burst with laughter that made him spit out some cake crumbs.
“You look like a chipmunk,” Ned said.
Cole tried to answer but only snorted, and his eyes opened wide as coughs left his mouth instead of words. Ned sat in place at first, waiting for the fit to end, but by the time Cole’s face reddened in the light of the fire, it occurred to him that no matter how deadly, Cole was as easy to break as any other man.
Ned rushed to his side and started slapping his back to dislodge the chunk of cake stuck in his throat. “Come on, Flores. Chipmunks know how to handle their food.”
This time, Cole didn’t laugh and grabbed the flask, taking a swig even as Ned slammed his open palm against his back. It finally helped, but instead of offering his gratitude, Cole shoved Ned away, with a shake of his head. “You mention this to anyone, and you’re a dead man.”
It was difficult to guess whether he was being serious, so Ned raised his hands, fighting back a smirk. “All right. Wouldn’t want your gunslinger reputation in tatters.”
Cole watched him for the longest moment, the smoke in his eyes dispersing as the corners of his mouth turned up. “It better not. Reputation keeps you alive as effectively as skill, so better not to underestimate its power,” he said and shifted closer, until his knee was only a hair’s breadth from nudging Ned’s. He could already sense its warmth.
“Your secrets are safe with me. So how about that cook? What grub should I expect?”
Cole shrugged and pulled out a decorative tin, which contained a selection of nuts and raisins. He started snacking despite coughs still disturbing him every now and then. “Name’s Bertha, and you better be nice to her or she’ll make sure you don’t get much meat in your stew. Vengeful woman, she is. The food’s… about what you’d expect. Canned, and whatever people can hunt, forage, or otherwise get their hands on.”