Cole shrugged. “Take off them pants.”
Ned cocked his head. “You’re serious.” He wiped away a tear with his thumb and tentatively pulled down one suspender, but glanced toward the far off campfire to make sure they were alone.
“Of course I’m serious. I’m mighty good at it too,” Cole said, sinking lower against the tree. “If you don’t have spares for now, the belongings of the guy Zeb mentioned are in his tent. A dead man don’t need clothes.”
Ned pushed off his boots, and his pants fell to his ankles with a gentle shove. “You didn’t give me enough time to pack my things.”
“Wait here,” Cole said and ran off, skirting the shadows of the tents before diving into one. Unsure what to do, Ned remained in his underwear, hidden away behind the barrels until Cole returned with a bundle of red and white fabric. “That should sort you out.”
Ned backed off into the cool shadows and unbuttoned the front of the skin-tight garment all the way to his crotch. “Is there any communal washing? I doubt Tom does his own laundry but what about me? I mean… you offered to mend my underthings. You gonna wash them too? Gonna be my camp wife?” He laughed but immediately realized he shouldn’t have said it, because Cole stiffened and frowned at him.
“I was just bein’ friendly. Have it your way,” he said and dropped the clean clothes to the grass.
Ned grabbed his wrist to stop him from walking off even though it required him to step out of the dark and risk revealing his poker to an unsuspecting woman. “No! Cole… apologies. I didn’t mean it that way. You are real friendly. I appreciate it a lot, just trying to get my bearings, is all.”
He could almost hear Aunt Muriel’s voice berating him for being crude, and this time, he’d have deserved a reprimand.
Cole exhaled, but instead of looking at Ned’s face, he let his gaze linger at the exposed privates. “That rattlesnake must sure have felt threatened,” he said in a faint voice before meeting Ned’s gaze. His mouth stretched into a smile, and he gave Ned’s stomach a friendly slap. “I forgive you this one time.”
Ned exhaled in relief but couldn’t help the laugher once more escaping his lips. Getting a compliment on his prick was new, even though he was well-endowed. “You’ve got no shame.” But Ned did, so he grabbed the fresh underwear from the grass as soon as he took off the ripped one.
“If you’re too shy to wash yourself, I can look away,” Cole offered.
Ned considered it for a moment, and even though the perspective of being watched made him nervous, he could use a refreshing after two days in the saddle. “I don’t wanna frighten the ladies. Be my lookout?” he asked and grabbed the washcloth once more.
“Your modesty’s safe with me,” Cole said in a way that made Ned feel as if it were anything but.
“We’re gonna have fun, Mr. Flores,” Ned chuckled and worked the sweat off his skin, wiping it off with clean water and soap.
By the time he put on the red flannel suit, he felt like a new man, but it was chilly enough in the evening to prompt him to put on the dead man’s shirt as well.
“There, I’m sure you feel much better,” Cole said and slapped Ned’s back.
Ned had been too preoccupied with the task at hand to notice before, but someone was playing a guitar by the fire, and the chaotic conversations from earlier quieted down. By the time Cole and Ned emerged into the glow of the fire, everyone nursed a bowl of stew, tearing apart loaves of bread.
Some of the people gathered hadn’t yet met Ned, but they sure have heard of him and were now whispering among themselves instead of chatting to him.
“That’s my place,” Cole said as he led Ned to a mid-sized canvas tent, which had a wooden floor, like Tom’s, yet wasn’t nearly as ornate. The interior was utilitarian, with a cot, a chest, a table, and some clothes hanging off a contraption meant for that purpose. “There’s more than enough space for another cot. Or bedroll.”
“Thanks, but I like a good night’s sleep, and I bet you have lady visitors often. I’ve been told I could have Joseph’s tent. That’s his clothes I’m wearing, right?”
Cole stalled but recovered within the blink of an eye. “I suppose. It’s a small tent though. Only enough space to sleep in.”
Ned shrugged. “I don’t need much. And I’m too indebted to you already. I’d be in quite the pickle, had you not swooped in. I don’t know why that is but…” He licked his lips looking up into the twin coals burning in Cole’s face. They were harder than the eyes he remembered from childhood but still kind. “We just get along together real well, don’t we?”