Lars threw his hands in the air with a scowl. “Fine! Eat his liver for all I care.”
Cole would have loved to cut him open and gorge on every bit of flesh. Or at least that was what he used to tell himself before Ned’s gaze had ripped open old scars and dropped in so much salt Cole’s insides stung.
He needed to be alone. Immediately.
“Let him feed the mutt before it tries to bite off his nose. I’ll see to the horse,” Cole said after a moment of pregnant silence and headed for the open door, his head pulsing with unwanted thoughts.
No matter how much sense it made to hide on this remote piece of land, Cole felt as if he’d walked straight into a trap, and as he’d have to bear the consequences of his rash decision for as long as Ned O’Leary breathed.
Even outside, with the evening air sneaking in under his open coat, the photograph stolen from the mantelpiece burned him like the hot iron had his forehead. Ned had taken care of that one memento. He’d dusted it while the rest of the house was reminiscent of a wolf den rather than a human dwelling. As if the confession made on the gallows hadn’t been a lie. As if Cole hadn’t been the only one to each night fall asleep in the arms of a ghost.
An ugly string of curses left Cole’s mouth as he bit through the inside of his cheek and drew blood to rein in the dense, painful emotions welling up inside him. He was such a sucker. No wonder Ned had manipulated him so easily.
Sunshine turned the snow into orange brocade, but he didn’t have the peace of mind to wonder at nature, and went straight into the small barn. He feared he might find Ned’s mount beyond saving, but as the sunlight slipped past the wooden door, its glow made the stallion’s shiny coat glitter like a nugget of gold still damp from being carried by the river. The beautiful palomino Appaloosa stirred in his stall and shook his head as if he’d recognized an old friend, taking Cole right back to the past that still lived inside him, no matter how badly he wanted to be rid of it.
The air reeked of fouled straw and manure, but the horse was alive, and the very same animal he remembered. A small smile tugged on Cole’s lips, and while there were things Nugget needed more than human touch, he stepped up to the stall. And when the horse leaned toward him, Cole embraced its thick, warm neck and closed his eyes.
“I’ll be damned. It is you. You look better than your master,” he whispered as the backs of his eyelids prickled.
Nugget was so warm to the touch, even more so under the blanket covering his back. Older, distressed by hunger and thirst, but still the same mount that had accompanied them so many times. An animal Cole had grown to see as an extension of Ned. Its pale mane was so soft to the touch Cole clenched his fingers on the wooly hair as he lifted the rug covering the beast’s back and glanced at the rump marked with the queer pattern of dots Cole chatted to Ned about on the day they met—the Leo constellation.
He pulled out the photograph he’d just stolen and showed it to Nugget. “See? That’s me. Remember me?” he cooed, but the sharp sound of the door slamming shut made him let go of the stallion, and tuck the frame between pieces of firewood stacked close by. Because if Lars fancied an embrace, he’d surely feel the odd shape under Cole’s clothes.
The tall, graceful shadow entered the stable before Cole got to see his partner’s handsome face. “Found some oats,” Lars said and dumped a large sack to the floor.
Nugget whinnied and stomped his hooves, as if he already smelled his long-overdue meal. The poor animal had survived on hay and whatever grain’s had been left in a torn sack, which now lay in the corner. There was leftover water in a barrel too, now mucky, with bits of hay floating at the bottom. It was a wonder the poor thing hadn’t gotten sick.
“How about I deal with the horses, clean this place and settle in our steeds while you handle the dog?” Cole asked.
“Sure. O’Leary says Dog is well trained. Might be fun to see what tricks it knows.”
Cole ignored the teasing and dragged the bag of feed closer to the empty trough. He’d need to melt some snow for water, but the beast would get to eat at least. “And you’re sure that this well-trained dog won’t be sicced on us when we return to the cabin?” he asked, unraveling the cord holding the sack shut. Air got trapped in his throat when Lars’s warm form pressed against him from behind, but he did nothing and just closed his eyes when the familiar nose rubbed him between the shoulder blades.