“What is this, Tom?” Ned asked, clenching the reins. Even if this was about Zeb wanting to finish yesterday’s fight, Ned was far from eager to meet the bastard’s fists again. There was courage, and then there was stupidity.
He rather liked his teeth where they were, and Zeb was not only larger than him—and everyone else at the camp—but had also spent years earning a living as a boxer in the world’s most rotten city. But Ned couldn’t let his worries show, so he raised his chin and rode ahead despite Tom keeping his mouth shut, as if he were deaf to anything Ned might say.
Fine then.
He tipped his hat. “Zeb.”
The bear-man sneered, pushing his tongue through the gap in his upper teeth in a way that made Ned imagine the buzz of a rattle behind him. He jumped off the wagon, which was now close enough for Ned to see its small load—just a handful of bags. And a shotgun Ned recognized as his own by the stag carved on its grip.
“Why are my things here?” he asked with a chill going down his spine despite the heat of the air being so intense the horizon blurred.
“There’s also a gold bar in there. And some trinkets,” Tom said, ignoring Zeb, who let out a growl, like a dog guarding his master’s wealth.
Nugget took a step back without Ned urging him. This was some kind of trap. And if he walked into it, Cole could come after those two men guns blazing, like the reckless, lovely man he was. Ned couldn’t have that. Unsure what to do, he decided to feign ignorance. “And what are we doing with it?”
“Don’t you play dumb with me, O’Leary,” Tom snapped, jumping off his mount’s back with a twist to his lips. “We want you gone. Gone from the camp. Gone from Cole’s life.”
Zeb sneered. “The boy’s been fine before you showed up and gave him ideas.”
Ned hadn’t been the one to come up with said ‘ideas’ but that was private. He straightened in the saddle, watching the two men despite his heart beating in alarm. If they wanted him dead, they could have shot him already. They wouldn’t even have needed to hide his body. If they left him out in the open, buzzards and coyotes would have done the job for them, and Cole would have never found him.
“Gold, you say? Why such courtesy?”
Zeb crossed his arms on his chest, but Tom gave Ned a smile as stiff as Scotch’s body had been when Cole was closing the coffin. “You’re one of us. I put that cleaver on your forearm because you proved yourself. You saved my life, you’ve been a good addition to the gang, so you deserve a reward. We don’t kill those loyal to us.”
Ned was taken aback by such a fair offer coming from men who murdered without remorse. In some ways he would have preferred it if they attacked. It would have been more straightforward and less morally taxing to deal with.
“There’s a ‘but’?”
“But we don’t want sodomites sleeping in the tent next over,” Zeb said and jumped off the wagon with a thump so ferocious Nugget panted, tensing under Ned as if he were about to face a wolf pack.
“Cole used to be a real ladies’ man before he brought you to me. I don’t know how—and I don’t want to find out—but you bewitched him. He’ll straighten up his act once you’re gone. Everything will be back to normal. So take the damn gold, write him that this thing is over and sneak out at night. Don’t want him to think we’ve buried you.”
Ned jumped off the horse with his head steamed with anger. “I may be a sod, a rump rider, a cocksucker, or whatever you want to call me, but Tom has one thing right, I’m loyal. You heard it yourself yesterday. Cole chose me, and he fancies me more than any cooch he’s had in his life. If you think that’s gonna change because I disappear, you’re lying to yourself! I’m not taking no gold, ‘cause he’s worth more than any riches the two of you could offer.” He spat on the ground. “And if you decide to get rid of me otherwise, you better sleep with a knife by your pillow, because Cole will gut you. He knows I wouldn’t just up and leave.” Ned was heaving by the end of his tirade, his heart raced, and fists clenched, ready for a fight.
Tom stared at him in silence, squeezing the pipe, as if for once he had nothing to say.
“Hobble your lip, you ungrateful fool. We. Don’t. Want you here!” Zeb roared, but as he stepped toward Ned, Tom’s arm went up and stopped him like logs thrown in front of a coach.