Cole shrugged. “Do you think it’s odd?”
“No, I’m guessing that’s how your clothes always look like they’re expensive, tailor-made, while I look like a lump with arms and legs.”
Cole snorted, shaking his head. His gaze shot to the flaps of the entryway into the tent, but when he’d made sure they were down, he rubbed his hand around the top of Ned’s pants. “You’re a lump I’ll happily feast on every day, Neddie. But if tailored clothes are what you want, we can make that happen.” He exhaled, licking his lips, as if he were hesitant about what he was about to say next. “You know… it makes me feel close to my mother when I work on my own clothes, because she taught me how to do it. I’m not about to become the camp tailor, but I’ll gladly help you.”
The touch was enough to dissolve Ned’s gloom. “I don’t need to be no fancy man, but I don’t want to be the farm boy either, you know?”
Cole gave him another kiss, then put on his hat and stepped outside, inviting Ned to follow him with a look thrown over the shoulder.
Oh, they’d surely take their time during this errand.
Once Ned had finished dressing as well, they walked to the edge of the camp, where a two-horse wagon filled with crates and canvas bags was already waiting for their arrival. The mad jealousy Ned had felt over Craw getting a bit too friendly with Cole was gone, and he felt no resentment seeing the man pet one of the draft animals. Come to think of it, the little bowler did suit him.
Craw smiled. “Tom said it might be good if I tag along with an extra gun, since we got some valuable loot on there.”
Ned had to fight his own face to not scowl. “I don’t know—”
Craw waved at Tessa who rushed their way, holding up her long skirt. “I’ll be the lookout!” she yelled.
Cole went so still Ned worried he might erupt with violence over their chance for time alone turning from reality into fog, but he sat in the driver’s seat and stretched his back in silence.
“You’ll be the best lookout. She got real good eyes,” Craw chuckled, helping Tessa into the bed of the wagon. His eyes turned blurry when her behind briefly pressed against his face in the process, and he winked at Ned, as if they shared a secret.
“Last time I checked she had to come real close to see what was written in a shop window. You must mean her titties,” Cole said, and Tessa frowned at him without malice.
Ned smiled back like a traveling salesman, but then joined Cole and grabbed the reins with a deep sigh. “Maybe we’ll still get a moment to ourselves,” he whispered, all too wary of the unwanted passengers behind them, but Craw and Tessa were too preoccupied with their own quiet exchange to take notice of the tension passing between Ned and Cole.
As the wagon rolled from between the bushes and onto the dirt road, it became clear the two tweeting birds had joined them for the same reason Ned had been so eager to make a trip out of camp. Sitting at the very back, they didn’t even bother to acknowledge their companions and whispered, holding hands as if Tessa hadn’t propositioned Ned less than a day ago.
This wouldn’t have happened if Ned hadn’t come up with the brilliant idea to lie to Craw in order to speak with Cole yesterday, but since they had unwanted passengers as a result, they’d have to bear with them.
Ned focused on the sun tickling his cheeks and breathed in the scent of warm dirt and grass as the horses moved forward bit by bit, taking them to the trading post where Ned would further stain his soul by selling the stolen valuables for profit. And where he’d maybe get some new clothes—ones made with nicer cloth and which needed no mending. It wasn’t as if he could find the owners of all the loot now, so he might as well use some of it to change his life for the better.
The moral fibre family had fostered in him since he could remember balked at the idea of crime being excusable under any circumstances, but righteousness wasn’t always just. Why should he stay poor forever and get no opportunities just because he’d been dealt a bad hand in life?
Cole produced his harmonica and played a slow, melancholic melody, soon prompting Ned to whistle along. And so they shared this moment together while the sun heated their backs, because neither Craw nor Tessa could know the true meaning behind the joint melodies.
Cole pressed his knee against Ned’s and glanced at him as the pitch of his instrument rose, turning into a trill that sent an odd shiver down Ned’s spine. The wagon was practically driving itself down the empty road, so Ned chose to focus on the man next to him, leaning that bit closer. The fresh scent of ylang-ylang reached out to him like a promise, whetting a thirst the small river glinting nearby couldn’t quench.