Cole’s mouth stretched into a smile, and something inside Ned flickered when he realized it was meant for him. “This life I have is the best one I know. Tom claims we’ll all ride together into ripe old age, but I think he’s a dreamer. Sooner or later, his hands will ache when he swings that cleaver, and he’ll either retire or let himself be killed. Same for all of us. Maybe I could go to California too. See if what they say about that country is true. I wouldn’t stand out there that much,” he said, hiding the lower half of his face behind the cup.
“You’d stand out anywhere with a face like yours. But no bounty hunters would reach us there. We could grow beards for disguise.” Ned craved to sit closer, to bump his shoulder against Cole’s, but the man was too far away, so he settled on passing Cole a cooled egg to touch him that way at least.
He could have sworn the air sparked when their fingers met, and Cole kept his hand up for a whole second, even though he already had the egg. “We? Are you saying you’d want me as a partner at your livery stables?”
“Why not? You could run a gun store with the expertise you have.” Ned could see it already. A world without the Gotham Boys, away from the O’Leary family. Just him and Cole.
“Sounds… mighty fine,” Cole said, and broke the shell before pushing the whole egg into his mouth, as if he couldn’t pace himself.
Ned’s toes curled in his boots, and he couldn’t take his eyes off this stunning man even when his cheeks resembled a squirrel’s. “No collars around our necks and no nooses neither.”
Cole grabbed the bread and pulled himself up, only to drop his buttocks onto Ned’s bedroll, a couple of inches from his side. “Maybe I should become the sheriff? A prestigious position of power. How would you like me with a tin star on my chest?” he asked, tapping himself.
Ned’s heart skipped a beat, and he did what he’d wanted to before. He poked his shoulder against Cole’s. “Sounds awful law-abiding of you, Mr. Flores, but you do have the skill required for the job.” He didn’t need to lie to come up with the compliment, because it was honest. As soon as he smelled the ylang-ylang from Cole’s hair, even if faint, he wanted to press his face against the unruly black strands like a mutt eager to cover itself in its friend’s scent.
Cole pushed back with a growing smile and pulled his watch out of the vest pocket. It was an expensive trinket—golden, with a coyote engraved on the back, and according to Cole it didn’t need to be adjusted as frequently as most timepieces. They didn’t have to venture out for another hour, so they finished their breakfast in a pleasant atmosphere, and then cleaned up in the river. Ned had forgotten his tooth powder from the main camp, and Cole was gracious enough to lend him some of his. It was fine to the touch and tasted of lavender, so by the time they saddled up the horses and extinguished the fire, Ned was fresh and ready for whatever life was about to throw at him.
Because Cole still hadn’t told him what they were about to do.
Ned had assumed they’d travel for another few hours before reaching their goal, but when Cole led the way uphill and hitched his horse to a tree close to the rail tracks, facts added up in Ned’s mind and left him with a growing sense of dread.
Dynamite.
Railroad.
Bridge.
He should have seen this coming.
“Hey, what’s the plan?” he shouted, forcing words through his clenching throat while Cole headed off along the tracks with the bag of dynamite hanging from his shoulder. The morning sun made them both lower their hats, but as Cole approached the edge of the cliff where the bridge started and a sharp gust of wind blew back the folds of his duster coat, Ned’s legs felt uncomfortably soft.
“We’re making the bridge go boom, Neddie,” Cole chirped, his mood improved.
“That is a terrible plan,” Ned said, but one glance at the empty space under and around the viaduct sent his heart into his throat. Why was Cole acting as if they weren’t a step away from doom? If they fell off the goddamn tracks and were lucky enough to not break their necks before hitting the water below, they might still drown.
Ned’s heart longed for nature’s beauty, but in light so bright and the abyss so close, he could only focus on his immediate surroundings, and on Cole, who strode onto the bridge as if it were a path like any other.
“No, it’s perfect. The train’ll stop, and we’ll all board it. Quick and painless job. They’ll wire the nearest station for sure, but it’ll take time until anyone can make it all the way here,” Cole shouted, turning around on the narrow bridge above the wide open mouth of the gorge.