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)
Was steal the word Cole was looking for?
“How many people does she need to feed?”
“Aren’t you a curious one,” Cole said, but his chewing slowed, as if he were trying to listen to the pace of Ned’s heartbeat. “Are you the type who tries to taste a girl’s pie before she’s yours?”
Heat flushed Ned’s face at the obscene suggestion, and he stared into Cole’s eyes. The air around them had smelled of smoke before, but now the scent thickened. He was being assessed.
“That such a bad thing?” With his looks, Cole surely was no monk.
Cole’s profile was so sharp with the narrow, hooked nose and strong chin, but now he wouldn’t move, as if he weren’t a man but a carving some great artist from back east chiselled to confuse and amaze simple people like Ned.
“Depends on whether her father finds out.”
“I’m not sure if you told me yet. You got any family at the camp?” Ned’s palms were getting clammy, so he rubbed them together. He needed to know whether Butcher Tom was still the leader, but he’d messed up and now each word coming out of his mouth made Cole bristle.
“I’m the son of a dead whore. What family could I possibly have?” Cole asked in a voice so sharp Ned could sense blood on his tongue. Sensitive topic then.
Ned shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.” He wasn’t sure if he was reading into things too much, but Cole sat an inch farther away now, their knees no longer touching.
“You better watch out. Curious cats end up bagged and in a river,” Cole said in a dull whisper, watching the fire. His fingers—long and elegant in shape yet rough—inched their way up his thigh, to where a bowie knife was attached to his belt.
Ned huffed, assessing how long it would take him to reach his shotgun if need be, but he’d much preferred the camaraderie he’d shared with Cole before this sudden tension. But what did he expect? Regardless of his pretty words and friendly smiles, the man was an outlaw, and Ned shouldn’t get too cozy with him in the first place. The boy who had saved his life years ago was long gone, and Ned needed to keep that in mind. By now, Cole was surely as cruel and depraved as Butcher Tom.
“‘Scuse me for trying to work out where I’m heading,” he answered, fine with building a wall between them if that was what Cole wanted.
“When do we ever know where we’re headin’? You’ve led a cushy life of certainties and routines, Ned O’Leary, but that ends now, or I might just think you’re after something else than adventure and money,” Cole said, slicing his dark gaze into Ned as the flames danced, casting dramatic shadows on his face.
Ned faced the challenge head on. “My life’s been far from cushy, I can tell you that, but you can’t expect me to put my hand in a bear’s jaw without knowing how many teeth it has.”
Cole moved so fast Ned didn’t even manage to protect his stomach, much less reach for the rifle, but the moment the bowie knife pressed dangerously close to Ned’s navel. Cole rolled to his knees in front of him, one hand steady on the sharp weapon, the other warming the cold sweat at the back of Ned’s neck for leverage. Their faces were inches away, and the sweetness of Cole’s breath felt like a threat just as direct as the pointed tip penetrating Ned’s shirt.
“Here’s one of my teeth. How would you like a taste?” Cole whispered.
Ned stilled, afraid to make a peep. This was nothing like the fights with his cousins or boys from around Beaver Springs. Those could end with broken ribs, but Cole was ready to kill him, and that much was made clear by the tension in his shoulders and steady grip.
Ned raised his hands and stopped moving to not aggravate the predator in front of him. He’d pushed too far and had made Cole suspicious of him.
“I’m good,” he muttered.
Cole sucked in air and replaced the knife in its sheath, but he didn’t otherwise move, leaning toward Ned, hand still holding his nape. His nostrils flared, but he wouldn’t look away for endless seconds.
There was no point in fighting this threat, so Ned submitted and averted his eyes, shrugging off the firm grip. He couldn’t afford to ask any more questions for a while. If he was lucky, they’d be answered once he reached the camp anyway. He just hoped Butcher Tom wasn’t as quick to draw a knife on him as his new friend.
He moved aside without a word, eager for some space to think. Cole appeared carefree on the surface but was as deadly as a rattlesnake hiding in the tall grass. Ned hadn’t played his cards right.