“Yikes. She must have heard you,” Cole said, and as he leaned closer to Ned, he smelled last night’s sweat and straw. Had he slept with the horses?
Ned’s frown was more intense than hers. “It’s not funny. We don’t know what she’s like. What if she disciplines the children too harshly? Who knows what goes on behind this facade?”
Cole stilled, and his gaze wandered to Tommy, who sat in the dirt and hugged Dog. The tiny fingers tightened in the mutt’s fur, as if he were ready to cling to his friend for dear life, but the boy’s gaze wouldn’t rest and darted left and right.
The smile dropped from Cole’s mouth. “They’re nuns… aren’t they good people by definition?” he asked even though he’d seen enough of the world to know faith guaranteed nothing. There was a surprisingly thin line between goodness and terror, and the black habits shouldn’t be any more reassuring than the smiles of the brothel madam who’d put Cole to work once his mother had died and scarred his face with the mark of a whore.
“I haven’t done many things right in my life, but this feels especially wrong,” Ned said grimly, cooling his skin against the gate.
Cole gritted his teeth. “Take him then.”
“Let’s face it, I can hardly take care of myself. I’ve got no money, no family, and I’m a wanted man.” He didn’t sound sorry for himself, just tired of it all. “It’s no amendment for my sins, but once I get my life in order, I’ll come back for him.”
For all his faults, it seemed Ned was the better man. Cole couldn’t imagine living with the responsibility of caring for a child on his own, yet here Ned was, already making plans for the boy’s future. And if he succeeded, if he set himself up with Tommy somewhere safe, he’d have more than enough reason to continue staying off the drink.
The nun was ever closer, staring at them as if she were about to accuse them of upsetting the peace of her home, but Cole ignored her and shifted toward Ned, dropping his voice to a whisper. “He can’t speak. And he has six fingers. What if the other orphans don’t accept him? We could leave him with Judith, and I’d pay for his keep until you feel ready.”
It was as if a weight had fallen off Ned’s shoulders, and he stood straighter, finally looking back at Cole. Yesterday's fight weighed on both their minds, but neither would mention it, as if their hearts were too fragile to handle that conversation. “You’d do that? I’m sure I could pay back with time.”
Cole shook his head, staring into the treacherously green eyes for the first time since last night. “No. He’s as much your responsibility as mine. I’ll continue paying my due for his keep for as long as I can.”
This meant he’d have to stay in touch with Ned. That the ties that bound them would never be cut clean. The truth behind his offer made the air between them tremble like the horizon on a hot summer day. It was only fitting that Butcher Tom's blood would end up binding them together.
But Ned didn’t step closer or attempt to touch Cole’s hand. He just nodded. “It’s up to you, but if that’s your choice, you have my thanks. It’s been a while since I actually had to think about a future beyond the next few days, but I will make it work. The kid deserves it for what I’ve done.”
Cole was surprised by the choking sensation in his throat, and stuffed his hands into his pockets when they trembled with the need to adjust the front of Ned’s leather jacket. “He already loves you like an older brother.”
“Hey, Tommy? Come over here!” Ned yelled, and Cole half-expected the sour-faced nun to scold them, but all of a sudden, she spun around and ran.
Ghostly fingers raked down Cole’s back, but Dog noticed the danger first, his front sinking lower as he barked in warning. Cole grabbed Ned’s vest and pulled without checking what the threat was. There was no time to waste on looking over his shoulder when bullets swished through the air. The produce seller screamed out, and ran off without her stock, but that was the last Cole saw of her as he ducked into the dry dirt.
He managed to shove Ned behind the plinth of St. Nicolas’s statue and scrambled to grab Tommy’s coat, dragging him into safety just as a bullet shattered the edge of the stone block that had become their shelter.
The boy gave a loud shriek, trying to get away, but Cole pushed his little head down even before he produced his own pistol and peeked past the saint’s stone form to see a familiar silhouette.
Back from his mausoleum of fire and dirt, Zeb stood in the middle of the road, a carbine repeater clasped in both hands as he grinned, teasing the gap in his front teeth with the tip of his tongue. His face was still discolored after the beating he’d gotten in the mountains, and unless it was a trick of the light, there was a large scar on his forehead, crudely mended with black thread.