Ned avoided looking into the windows, at the dark silhouettes leaning over cowering passengers like demons in the darkest of magic lantern shows. Saul boarded one of the cars, called over by Adam Wild, but Zeb’s head and shoulders became Ned’s beacon, and he wouldn’t stray from it despite the nausea rising in his throat.
He was relieved to see that the rail wagon he entered wasn’t filled with people, and instead housed boxes and oversized luggage strapped to massive shelves on either side of the aisle, but his joy dimmed the moment he spotted legs belonging to someone sprawled behind a divider in the middle of the elongated interior.
Pearl, the only woman who’d joined the gang’s men tonight, rummaged through cupboards and shelves in search of valuables, and as she stepped over the body carelessly thrown across the passage, Ned spotted blood on her shoe. Back in camp, she was all smiles and laughter, but when it came to the lives of strangers, she had as little compassion as her husband.
Zeb gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder and continued down the walkway, to where Doc hugged a huge safe.
“How is it go—?” Zeb started in a booming voice but shut right up when Doc raised his hand, eyes closed as he pressed his ear to the steel door, like a man listening to a baby growing in his wife’s stomach. His hand made little flicks on a circular handle, but his brows lowered when he noticed Ned standing there like a spooked deer.
Cold sweat dampened Ned’s shirt to a point where it might soon feel wetter than it had following the surprising bath in the river earlier. Doc was a quiet kind of fellow, but with more intelligence than many of those around him.
Was it possible that he’d seen through Ned’s scheme because of the failure with dynamite?
“There’s too many of us here already,” Doc said, making Ned’s shoulders relax. “Just go ahead and help others gather the small goods.”
All Ned wanted was to leave no casualties behind him once this was over, so he nodded and walked forward, lured by Tom’s voice. He had no doubt Cole would be at his mentor’s side.
The sky outside went dark with heavy clouds that would soon unleash rain and turn the tracks left by their horses into mud. The sooner they finished this job the better.
Since he’d grown large and tall in his pubescence, Ned often wished to be smaller so that his presence didn’t intimidate people as much, but as he made his way toward Tom’s booming voice, seeing sobbing women and pale men on the edge of his vision, he realized he was past the point where that would be enough. He’d known the scent of fear since Butcher Tom and his men had invaded his home ten years ago, but he’d never smelled it so intensely. In the cramped cars, dozens of people exuded a sharp, musty odor spiced with the sourness or urine, and he couldn’t relinquish the responsibility for any of it.
They would never know he was here to end Tom’s reign, and he had to accept that for them he was just another criminal. Cruel and unpredictable.
When Ned spotted Cole, his dark thoughts halted as abruptly as the train had earlier. He sat in a middle-aged man’s lap, arm slung around a neck that was beet-red in contrast to the white hair. The muzzle of his pistol pressed at the underside of the passenger’s jaw in the parody of a caress as he leaned in, whispering threats into the man’s ear.
The taunting was terrible, but seeing it happen did something else to Ned too. He hated the closeness of the two men so much he could‘ve put a pistol against Cole’s victim’s head himself.
“Stop playing,” Ned shoved at Cole’s shoulder for good measure.
The stranger’s lips trembled so hard he couldn’t have uttered a word even if he’d wanted to, but Cole didn’t seem at all bothered and wiggled his brows, diving his hand under the man’s coat. “I missed you too,” he said to Ned and pulled out a leather wallet, shaking it to make the coins jingle, as if he wanted to create a rhythm for the sobs and cries uttered all around them.
Tom faced them with a black bandana covering the lower half of his face. He tapped the revolver in his shoulder holster, glaring at Adam Wild who stood by the car’s exit with two guns aimed at the ceiling. The almost-fiancée would sure be proud knowing what her future husband did to put a ring on her hand.
“Go check if they opened the safe,” Tom said, hovering his gun above a middle-aged couple who cowered in the hope of turning invisible.
Cole tossed the fat purse toward Adam. “For your wedding.”
Adam let out a cackle and grabbed the wallet, opening it as he headed Ned’s way. “Her parents won’t snub me again if I come over in clothes they could never afford,” he said, browsing the coins and bills while his revolver hung off his finger, barrel pointed at the floor.