Rory paled, which made his ginger hair seem brighter in contrast. “That young girl at the excavation was your doing too? I understand why you’d go after Butcher Tom, but her?” he whispered.
But why had Ned murdered Tom really? For the money? For an ill-perceived sense of justice? Cole shook his head and cooled his skin against the bars.
Ned slouched. “I didn’t mean to—but what’s done is done.”
Cole spat toward him, but the saliva didn’t reach the other cell, instead landing on the newly swept floor.
Ned retreated to the wall, standing as far away from Cole as humanly possible.
“She was just a young girl, Ned… What were you doing there anyway? Nothing had been stolen,” Rory said, shaking his head, but still prodded, as if the need to add to his crime knowledge was most important. Or maybe he was just a curious cat.
“Even a child can be a threat when you put a shotgun in their hands,” Ned grumbled. “It don’t matter anymore. There is no going back from there, and no redemption for me. I did that. That’s who I am.”
Cole shook his head, once again breaking into laughter, even though he wasn’t amused. He was done with this—with Ned O’Leary, the world, and his own useless self.
Rory’s gaze settled on him for several seconds. “I remember you, Mr. Flores. You told me you knew Jesse James, and then stole Ned’s horse to lure him out.”
Cole made a deep bow, because why the hell not? Justice was served fast in towns so remote. He’d have his final performance tomorrow morning, so practice was in order.
Rory ignored the mocking and spoke on. “You’ve done your fair share of killing too. The way I see it, as someone who lured Ned away from an honest life, you shouldn’t complain about the effects of your actions.”
“It’s not the killing that really offends me,” Cole said, meeting Ned’s gaze again as his throat pulsed with the need he’d harbored for so many years. “I have questions, but he won’t give me answers.”
“You won’t like what you’d hear, and you’d hate me even more, so what’s the point? There’s enough anguish in the world. You drinking that?” Ned pointed to the cup on the floor in front of Cole’s cell in a way that made Cole itch to strangle him.
He scooted down right away, grabbed the tumbler and let the booze fire down his throat in a single gulp that twisted his features. “No. You can’t have it!”
Rory had the audacity to roll his eyes, but then again, there was nothing Cole could do from behind the bars, and aiming a tumbler at him for the sake of leaving a bruise was too ridiculous of a thing to attempt.
“I’m sorry, but this is your last night. Maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet and—”
“Never,” Cole said and tossed the tumbler toward Ned’s cell.
Ned curled up on the bench. It was like seeing the hollow shell of a man Cole used to love, and even though he hated Ned with all his heart, it still hurt to witness how much he’d changed.
Rory cleared his throat. “Mr. Flores, is there anything you can tell me about your life after the Three Stones massacre? I know it might sound rude, since it’s your last day and all, but I’m gathering a little crime compendium for posterity, and was hoping for some insight. It’s a rare opportunity to meet someone of your caliber in Beaver Springs.”
Cole’s instinct was to say no, but he stopped himself before the words left his mouth. “Under one condition.”
Rory gravitated closer, his eyes growing wide with greed. Perfect. “I want to enjoy my final meal. I want roast beef with potatoes, and pie or cake. And r-raisins,” he said, hating the way he stumbled over that last word. The treat would last him this entire night and sweeten his sorrows the same way it had quieted his fears when he’d slept in the brothel, listening to all the shouts and moans without knowing what they were about.
“Cole always liked raisins,” Ned mumbled from his blanket cave. “I could ask for some and give them to him,” he whispered more quietly.
Rory stared at them before clearing his throat. “Ned? Any food?”
The auburn head snapped up, as if he’d been awoken from slumber. “The same. With raisins.”
Cole frowned but stayed quiet while Rory picked up some things. “Right. I’ll be back very soon, so you better make peace. You only have until tomorrow to come clean about whatever animosity you’re harboring.”
For a while after Rory left, Ned kept tapping his foot on the floor. Eventually though, he rose with a crazed twinkle in his eye and walked up to the bars, close enough for Cole to possibly-maybe reach him from his own trap. If he used his legs.
“I’ve got an idea,” Ned said.
“An idea? You? I’m surprised you’re still able to talk like a normal person,” Cole mumbled, watching him from behind his own set of bars.
Ned licked his dry lips, which were barely visible under the beard, and stared at Cole. “Your bench is broken.” He pointed to the gap in the middle of the wooden cot. “Give me the plank. It’s by the wall.”
“No. It’s my bench, and you’re not getting it unless you tell me what I want to know,” Cole said, his voice growing in strength with each word until his throat ached.
Ned groaned. “We don’t have a lot of time. Give me the plank. I might be able to reach the keys from here.” He nodded toward the set of keys hanging off a curved nail in the wall.
Heat burned the sides of Cole’s face, then his neck, but when he looked at the nail, already hopeful, it became clear to him that while the keys might be reachable with the piece of wood, they hung way too far from his own cell and just close enough to Ned’s for this mad plan to work. His heart beat faster at the perspective of running off together, like in the old days, but the moment he stepped back to reach the broken plank and saw hope light up Ned’s eyes, it occurred to him that it was yet another trick.
Ned O’Leary, the greatest liar Cole had ever met was about to strike again. Use Cole to free himself and then leave him to rot while he returned to whatever hell he’d come from.
“You think me a fool?”
“What? Why not at least try?” Ned spread his arms, and the blanket fell off him again. Could even this be an attempt at manipulation? Ned hoping Cole was still weak-willed when it came to his body?
“You’re just going to run off and leave me here, like last time. I might have been a fool seven years ago, but you taught me no one should ever be trusted.”
Ned frowned. “You were the one to tell me to go to hell. I got shot, and—I did actually come back a few days later. Couldn’t find you. I knew you meant what you said when I went to our tree and found it mutilated, our initials cut out like what we shared had never existed.”
Cole spread his arms. “By that time, I was locked in a rancher’s cellar, with this mark still burning on my forehead.” He growled, touching the uneven skin of the brand. “So spare me your excuses.” He took a deep breath, fighting the little shivers running down his legs. “You want to run? Fine. I can throw you the plank if you tell me what I want to know. Tell me,” he said more firmly, trying to yank at the bars, but they wouldn’t budge at all.