The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary (Dig Two Graves 2)

“The mansion’s been deserted ever since, and even the most hardened criminals fear stepping inside. They say that you can still hear the girls laughing in the cellar on some nights, then you smell kerosene, and poof, everything’s dead silent.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Ned asked, wide eyed.

Cole wiggled his eyebrows. “I promised Tommy some fun when we arrived in Denver. We could go to the Crying House and explore. Check if we can smell the kerosene?”

But instead of the excitement Cole expected, the boy shook his head so fast his blond curls bounced like little springs.

Ned voiced the sentiment the two of them seemed to share. “I ain’t going into no house filled with ghosts and murder. Are you out of your mind? Don’t toy with the spirit world, goddamn it!”

Not this again.

Cole exhaled and nudged Carol’s sides, trying to see if he could spot the roof of the mansion in the far-off distance, close to a church tower with a very steep black roof. “Don’t worry, Tommy. If they even exist, ghosts have better things to do than scaring good little boys. They’re far more interested in mountain men with heavy consciences,” he teased.

Ned spoke, ignoring Cole’s last comment. “It’s a zebra,” he told Tommy, as if he felt the boy needed a distraction.

They’d been travelling for three weeks now, and while Ned had learned a number of basic signs, his communication with Tommy went beyond gestures. It included a few different whistles, a bit of Morse code, and at this point it was Cole who needed to catch up every now and then.

Tommy raised his eyebrows to signify his question, and Cole took in the poster that had triggered the boy’s inquiry. Three zebras, each standing on top of the other, a woman’s seductive eyes framed in kohl above the animals, and bold letters announcing—

“Dudek’s Fantastic Show and Other Curiosities,” Ned read out loud by the time Cole had managed to decipher only the first word. “A zebra is a horse from Africa. It has stripes, and can’t be trained as easily as this one,” he said, nodding at the gray mare that had belonged to Zeb. The boy was a good enough rider to handle the mild-tempered steed on his own, so they all decided it was his.

“How do you know?” Cole asked.

Ned shrugged with a mysterious smile. “I know things.”

Tommy’s eyes went wide, and he grinned at Ned as if he’d been given a dollar to spend in the candy store, but Cole rode up to the poster glued to the telegraph pole with blood heating his face. There was all too much text in fine print just under the multi-colored picture, but also a little map, and he raised his head, trying to penetrate the nearby trees with his gaze.

“How far is this place?” he asked Ned.

Ned took a longer look. “They’re camped on the outskirts of the city, so… maybe an hour away?”

He wiped a bit of dust from the lapel of his jacket, then pulled out a handkerchief, dampened it with water from his flask, and rubbed whatever dirt clung to the leather. Cole remembered every seam he’d painstakingly sewn, and each time he saw Ned touch the jacket or lovingly put it down, it almost felt like it was his own skin that would keep Ned warm for many years to come.

Tommy rose in the saddle with the pleading expression of Dog asking for scraps, and Cole gave a quiet laugh before glancing Ned’s way.

“I did promise him something fun when we make it here. I know those people,” he said, gesturing at the poster. “They have zebras, and a magician, and even their own bearded lady. Wouldn’t that be fun?” he asked Tommy, who nodded so intensely he almost fell off the saddle, and the excitement had to be infectious even to animals, because Dog started barking.

“And you’ve actually seen this lady?” Ned asked, his brows rising.

Cole crooked his mouth into a smile, anticipating that enjoyment would help him forget the reality of their situation, even if only for a moment. “Sure have. Told you I’ve done many things in the past seven years, and riding with this show has been one of ‘em.”

[Can you juggle?] Tommy asked, his eyes sparkling to a point where having to shake his head made Cole somewhat uncomfortable.

“No, but I can shoot real well.”

Tommy pouted. [So could Zeb.]

“What’s he saying?” Ned asked.

Cole shook his head. “He’s excited for the circus. Let’s go.”

*

It was still early in the day when Cole spotted the large wall of canvas and posters stretched at the entrance to the encampment. In sunlight, one could see every crack in wood, and the black fabric that would serve as a mysterious background to the pictures presenting the show’s current performers was torn in several places. Only one way led in—through a gate decorated with a wooden dragon sculpture at the top, but Cole had been with the circus for long enough to know that many people snuck in by crawling under the temporary wooden fence.