“What about justice? Isn’t it worth fighting for?” Ned asked once Doc pulled away from Ned’s aching flesh and dropped the needle into a bowl.
Doc took a deep breath, contemplating Ned in silence. “Justice would have been my father sending me to a medical school instead of having me assist him with charity work so I’d learn some skills. His death, or my brother’s for that matter, didn’t make things right. But every man has to decide those things for himself, I suppose,” he said and rose, going back to the bowl where he’d washed his hands earlier.
Ned glanced at the scratches on his palms. “Should I even ask for a mirror?”
Doc smirked. “Not if you want to have confidence with the ladies tonight, but I could wrap your face with a bandage so they feel sorry for you.”
“Is Cole the type to feel sorry for a fellow?” Ned asked when Doc sat in front of him with some salve on his fingers.
Doc’s gaze darted to meet his, and for the briefest moment Ned felt as if Doc knew something he himself remained ignorant of. “Not very often, no.”
“Figured as much.” Ned closed his eyes because they stung from the cooling balm Doc was applying on the patched-up wound.
He knew he should leave the camp doctor to his book, but with Cole so angry at him, stepping outside the tent seemed like jumping into the icy waters of a waterfall. He was still contemplating if he couldn’t fish for information somehow when footsteps approached, and he found himself tuning in to their familiar gait.
Cole stood in the entrance, slightly bent forward so his head wouldn’t dig into the canvas. Ned didn’t know whether he expected pity or fussing over the ugly, swollen scar, but Cole’s face expressed nothing in particular when spoke.
“Pack your bags. We’re riding out together within the hour.”
Chapter 9
Ned woke shivering next to the glowing embers left behind by last night’s fire, and his stiff joints creaked when he shifted inside his bedroll, capturing the sight of Cole on the other side of their small camp. Thin wisps of clouds stretched across an otherwise clear sky, and everything within sight was tinted heather-pink. With the sun not yet up, the world was at a standstill, like Cole’s form, motionless under a blanket as thin as the one on top of Ned.
A rustle of leaves in the tree caught Ned’s attention, but it was only a squirrel making its way along the branch.
Moving was the last thing Ned wanted to do, but it would stop the tremors rocking his body, so he rolled out of his makeshift bed and blew a cloud of hot vapor on his stiffened fingers. Early mornings were so cold even in June.
Cole had barely spoken to him last night and had refused to lie next to Ned for warmth—a clear message Ned’s actions hadn’t yet been forgiven—but Ned couldn’t be angry over it when he took in the relaxed lines of Cole’s face. Locks of tar-black hair had tangled throughout the night and now lay squashed against his cheek, but he was surely as fatigued by the chill as Ned, and would have no choice but to appreciate a warm meal and fire once he woke.
Cole was the one who’d vouched for Ned, his safety net among men ruthless enough to murder and steal because of minor slights, so it was vital Ned regained his favor soon. But when Cole’s dusky lips moved in his sleep, Ned couldn’t help but long for the pleasant conversation they’d shared just that past morning over coffee. He’d missed the easy nature of Cole’s company last night, that roguish smile directed at him, and the continuous rejection weighed on his shoulders like bags full of rotten grain.
Without Cole’s sunny demeanor to shine at him, he was starting to grow ice shards deep in his chest, and the only way to thaw them was to get back into Cole’s good graces.
He gathered some wood around their campsite and fed it to the embers, blowing at them to rekindle the fire. Once that was done, he tightened his bandana around his throat, buttoned up the sheepskin coat Adam Wild had lent him, and, after one more glance at his sleeping companion, made his way through the bushes, toward the hum of flowing water. Their campsite might not have felt as frigid if they hadn’t set it up in the shadow of two cliffs overlooking a broad, peaceful river. They’d argued about it last night, but Cole insisted predators weren’t as likely to approach them close to the railroad, so Ned had given up, because he didn’t even know what their purpose was.
The distant panting of a steam engine made him look up. Only now, in daylight, could he appreciate the magnitude of the massive bridge linking the two hillsides towering over the river gorge. For all he knew, the wooden trestle could’ve been over a thousand feet long, and as the black smoke from the approaching train billowed above the trees, Ned found himself holding his breath. The railway did not reach Beaver Springs, and every time he saw the massive iron snake rolling through Sunset City, his nearest station town, it struck him as something that should be beyond the comprehension of men.