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)
As the music changed again, and more people joined the dancing couples while others clapped to the rhythm, sang, or got drunker, Ned’s mind returned to his parents’ quiet home in the mountains and their single night with the Gotham Boys, which had left Ned and his mother with no food to survive the winter.
All of these people profited from Butcher Tom’s crimes, even if they didn’t personally rob stagecoaches, and here they were—having fun and eating food meant for more refined palates than theirs, with no regard to the victims of their actions. They lived in the now, and if Ned was to survive among these coyotes and wolves, he’d have to stop thinking about both the future, and his past.
Zeb watched Ned from the other side of the bonfire with the intensity of a feral bear assessing his potential meal. He’d even denied Bertha, the cook, a dance when she tried to pull him into one. She had to mean something to him though, because instead of meekly accepting her fate, the woman pushed at his chest and yelled something over the music, wagging her finger right in front of his nose. No one would have done that to Zeb if they weren’t sure he wasn’t about to smack them for the indignity.
Bertha was a small woman in her thirties, but she had enough authority to order around a few of the other girls while preparing the evening meal with her shirt sleeves folded, but despite the otherwise severe fashion choices, the paint on her lips was as dark as dried blood.
She wanted to have some fun once her duties were over, and didn’t take kindly to Zeb ignoring the effort she put into arranging her hair into flowing waves adorned with flowers. Ned hid a smile when Bertha wouldn’t accept Zeb’s apologies and walked away with a scowl, leaving the brute with no other choice but to follow.
Sarah surprised Ned at some point by bringing over a bowl of stew and some bread, but they didn’t get to chat much, since Doc pulled her into a slow dance. The people moved around the camp freely, engaging in brief conversations. Some even approached Ned for a word or two, but it was clear no one wanted to invest much time in him yet, so he ate his food and watched, trying to memorize details of people’s appearance that might prove important in court. Because that was his true purpose here—to bring the outlaws to justice, not fraternize with them.
On the outskirts of his vision, Cole was still dancing, with sweet young Mary this time, and when Ned accidentally glanced their way, he was surprised to see both of them staring at him. Whispers were exchanged. Mary chuckled, flattening her bosom against Cole’s chest when he pressed his lips to her hair.
Were they mocking him? Ned had the sense of a joke being passed at his expense, so he sampled more of the wine Adam Wild had given him. The man had repeated in no uncertain terms that everyone called him with his full name. It was an odd thing to ask, but Ned could fulfill most requests in exchange for booze.
Cole and Mary twirled, which gave Ned an opportunity to have a good look at his new friend’s back. The top of his union suit was tight enough to suggest he’d outgrown it some time ago, but for a character like him, wearing snug clothes was surely yet another way to display his muscles. The flesh moved so smoothly, its twitching no secret under the second skin of black fabric. Ned was not a small man himself, but it never occurred to him to think of that as a lure to catch the ladies. Even if size could have played in his favor, he didn’t have Cole’s grace and moved like a bull. He didn’t know how to flirt or dance, so what was the breadth of his chest good for?
Ned looked at the grass when Cole caught him staring, but his neck stiffened when the fancy black boots made of alligator skin moved his way. But alongside them came tiny feet emerging from under long skirts.
Ned wanted to become invisible, so Cole couldn’t push Mary at him in a well-intended ploy to make him fit in. But once they stopped and cast a shadow on Ned and his wine bottle, there was no other way but to acknowledge their presence.
“You having fun, Ned?” Mary tweeted, and he was shocked to see her the lacing of her chemise at the neckline of her yellow dress. She was a pretty canary among crows and sparrows.
Ned rubbed his nape, glancing up sheepishly. “A pleasure to meet y’all and rest by a warm fire.”
Cole spun around and sat on the fallen log next to Ned, with Mary following suit as if she’d been waiting for that cue. Her locks smelled of flowers and sugar, and Ned found himself leaning away from the strong scent even when she pressed her shoulder against his arm, offering a wide smile.