The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary (Dig Two Graves 2)

Cole chuckled, shaking his head at the irony of his situation. It was only fitting that after destroying everything Cole loved and poisoning his life, Ned would also drag him to an early grave. His eyes caught Lars’s, and he shook his head, knowing it was a lost cause. Their mutually beneficial agreement had just come to an end.

“So you have me. Had poor Lars here fooled, but I suppose he still brought me to you. I didn’t poison the folk in Three Stones, but you’re right about everything else,” he said, looking at the young man who knew so much about him.

Ned chose that moment to speak up, shaking his head to get rid of the damp hair falling into his eyes. “Rory? You a deputy now?”

The young man paled and lowered Cole’s gun. “Ned?”

“You know this man?” the sheriff urged him.

“Ned O’Leary,” Rory said, and when he nodded, the sun glinted in his red curls. “Murderer of Pinkerton agent Homer Craig, outlaw, train robber, took part in the Three Stones poisoning—”

“That’s your cousin?” The sheriff exclaimed and looked up at Ned, but his hold on Cole’s arms hadn’t weakened. “Well, I’ll be damned! Wasn’t enough for you to bring shame on your family? Had to come back to these parts?”

Lars cleared his throat. “In that case, I understand I’ll be receiving all three bounties? Ned O’Leary, Cole Flores, and the Wolfman?”

A few of the men chuckled at the audacity of such a request, but that was Lars—bold, loud, and convinced he deserved the world. Cole would have clapped if his hands weren’t being tied by a man who’d ran up to them with a bundle of rope.

After a lifetime on the run, he was oddly calm in the face of impending doom. At least the pain would end without him having to make that decision. He wasn’t ignorant and knew what he’d done, so there was no point in begging for mercy or denying he was the man they sought. Soon enough, he’d fade away, and if fear kicked in, it would only last so long.

He hoped Ned hung first so he could witness it.

“I’m not payin’ you twice for the same man,” the sheriff said, pushing Cole toward the main street of the town. The weather was nice at least, though now Cole regretted that he hadn’t laid in the grass and enjoyed his last day in the sun.

Even that had been spoiled by Ned O’Leary.

“But I’ll be taking his horse. Just so that we’re clear!” Lars exclaimed.

Ned was being led away by his cousin, but he still turned his head and spat at Lars. “No honor!”

Cole cracked, his brains boiling without a way to let out steam. How dare he? How dare Ned O’Leary speak of honor when he’d proven to have no sense of loyalty?

He kicked back, making the sheriff utter a strangled yelp, and as soon as there was no hand holding him in place, he charged at Ned, and they both dropped like trees cut down by a careless lumberjack. The smell of booze filled his nostrils, but he pushed on, to the bare flesh sticking out from under the matted hair, and bit down on it with all the strength he had.

Ned screamed, writhing like an eel. Cole didn’t listen to the laughter and yelling around them, focused only on the taste of blood filling his mouth. He would not let go of the bastard even as several strong arms pulled at him, and only clenched his teeth harder, just like he had for seven damn years. Clenching his teeth and bearing with the pain.

“Put them in separate cells!” the sheriff yelled, and Cole’s teeth finally met to the melody of Ned’s howl.

Someone pulled Cole away and kicked him in the ribs, but he spat out the piece of ear in triumph. The small victory was worth the pain.

Chapter 5

Cole wouldn’t stop moving. The cold of the stream still clung to his flesh, as if the borrowed union suit he’d gotten to wear while his own clothes dried were also soaked all the way through. Restless, he paced the tiny cell like a lion confined to a small cage.

Cole first seen one when he’d still been a boy and Tom had taken him to the circus so he could feast his eyes on the rare magic of women balancing the rope high in the air with almost their entire legs on show. They’d eaten honey-roasted nuts, played games before the spectacle began, and had even gotten a tour of the animals.

The fond memories of the trip had been what had attracted him to find work at a circus a few years ago. He’d attempted to rob one of the wagons, and that mess had ended up in a shootout. He’d taken Jan Dudek hostage, but the entrepreneurial owner of Dudek’s Fantastic Show and Other Curiosities, impressed by Cole’s skill, had somehow talked him into starring in his circus as a sharpshooter. Jan had never got robbed, while Cole became The Deadeye for a year, showing off his talent for money.