The Man Who Loved Cole Flores (Dig Two Graves 1)

Maybe this sudden idea to take Cole and ride off toward the sunset proved his cowardice? If they left, he wouldn’t have to confront Tom or Zeb, risk being exposed as a rat, or seeing Cole hurt by the demise of people who’d become his home over the years.

Ned would rather die than see Cole behind bars, but there were things he couldn’t save him from.

They dressed but didn’t speak, Ned’s offer hanging between them like a rickety bridge that could still be crossed yet offered little in terms of reassurance. The sky was the color of milkweed flowers as they left the saloon, stepping into the cold air with bandanas wrapped tightly around their throats.

They could still do it—mount their horses and run off far away from Butcher Tom’s cruelty, somewhere no one knew them. Somewhere they could start fresh, as cousins perhaps, and live together in a house with a door that locked, and offered them a chance to be sweet with one another without fear of being discovered. They could even buy a tub of their own.

Ned loathed himself for having such selfish needs in the first place, but he couldn’t deny them, and while his family deserved revenge, Cole was entitled to something too, and unlike Ned’s mother and father, he was still here. Still breathing and warm to the touch. If both of them so wished, they could become a family.

But Cole led the way to the stables, and the stony determination making his gaze sharp and hard told Ned to give up on such silly notions.

“Let’s get Scotch,” Cole decided, mounting Thunder’s back outside.

“What? You can’t be serious. He’s dead, Cole. Won’t do anyone no good to try and mess with his body.”

“I won’t let his body rot for everyone to see,” Cole muttered, meeting Ned’s gaze in the cool glow of the morning. “I know you don’t care much for him, but he was a good friend before he’d become so useless. And if my wishes aren’t enough, know it’ll improve Tom’s opinion of you.”

Ned gritted his teeth and mounted Nugget. “Your wishes are enough.” They were everything and Tom—nothing.

They went silent on the way through the empty town, and the wind channeled by the dusty road snuck its way under Ned’s clothes. It felt as if the tension would never ease, but Cole cleared his throat as the two coffins at the entryway into Three Stones came into view.

“It means a lot to me, Neddie. Really.”

Even though grim, the job should be easy enough, because the whole town was asleep, with not a single potential onlooker in sight. If they were to go through with this, they needed to hurry. Ned grabbed some rope off Nugget’s saddle and got down with a thump, ignoring the sickening stench of rot, and the flies making themselves comfortable in both corpses. “I just never want to see you end up like this.”

He approached Scotch with a heavy heart. At least the night had been cold, so the body hadn’t yet deteriorated like the other one, even though the grey coloring of Scotch’s face couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than death in the pink glow of the morning. His face had twisted into a strange grimace, with the open mouth swarming with big, fat flies, and misty eyes looking back at Ned in accusation.

“We’ll look out for one another,” Cole said, stepping closer, but when Ned feared he might want to shut the corpse’s eyes with his bare hand, Cole chased the insects away with his bandana. They rose into the air like tumbleweed from hell, but he ignored them and gently pried the coffin away from the wall to rest it on the ground.

“How do we even take him?” With invisible needles prodding at his back, Ned clasped his hands on his nape before touching Nugget, who took a step back with a little whinny. The last thing he wanted was to be caught red-handed, and every minute spent here was a minute too long.

The body was still like a statue yet hadn’t started smelling, which was a relief as Cole took the lid lying nearby and placed it over the corpse with a growing frown. “We need nails.”

“Where will we find nails? Come on, Cole… it’s not worth it. Let’s leave him. Maybe we can find another way to make things right with Tom.”

Cole shot up and got into Ned’s face, poking his chest with his index finger as fury shone in his eyes. “I’m not leaving him like this! He was one of us!”

Ned spread his arms. “But he’s not anymore. He’s dead. You’re not religious, so this really feels like far too much effort.” For a piece of shit like Scotch.

“He wasn’t dead before. And you just stood by and let them kill him. You were outnumbered, I get that, but you’re not outnumbered now. We can give him a proper burial, and you just don’t care to make the effort.”