Home > The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary(3)

The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary(3)
Author: K.A. Merikan

Cole tried to redirect his attention, but when he stepped into the dusky interior with stairs on the other side, and a mezzanine level circling the main room a story above, all he could see was Ned O’Leary going frantic as he lost more and more money at a card game.

He’d been so innocent back then, not yet the spoiled bastard who’d given up Cole’s gang to the law, and Cole had found himself helping him win that final hand. They’d fought side by side once their ploy had been discovered, and Ned had led him, Pearl, and Adam Wild to safety. Nothing suggested that the friendship forged here would meet such a disastrous end.

“Do you hate this place because the girls here have teeth like that statue?” Lars whispered and nudged him with an elbow.

Cole had plenty of experience with all kinds of girls, he just wasn’t fond of their secret parts anymore, but what was the point of explaining that to Lars? “Something like that. Had to flee through the upstairs window when I’d been here last. Her pussy had teeth. Just like a beaver.”

He grinned when Lars stalled for a second too long before slapping Cole’s back with an irritated harrumph. There, Cole could tease him too.

They ordered their food and sat at a table by a window that could’ve used a wash.

Lars’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait. I know why that name was so familiar. O’Leary was one of your buddies in the Gotham Boys days. Was he from here?” He kept his voice down, but Cole still got goosebumps when Lars added things up. He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have never approached Mrs. O’Leary.

But lying was his second nature now, and he shrugged. “You know how it is with the Irish. Lot of them have the same surname.”

Lars winked at Cole. “He was on my list before I tracked you down, but I never managed to get even a sniff of him. I crossed him out once you joined me, ‘cause I figured there might still be fond memories of all the train-robbing between you two.”

Cole chuckled, forcing himself to smile until the muscles in his cheeks and jaw ached. “There’s always the Wolfman. Do you actually believe he’s real?” he asked, desperate to change the topic, to leave here and stop seeing Ned O’Leary’s shadow in the corner of his eye. If only he could put his hands around the motherfucker’s throat and squeeze until he saw life disappear in his eyes. Only then would he find the peace he craved.

Lars nodded, turning more serious. The man was a charmer and a braggart, but not a fool. He wouldn’t have managed to stay alive this long otherwise. “I think he’s very real, but no monster. Tell me what beast steals books from a campsite but not the rabbits? A man of flesh and bone, who found himself a gimmick. We’ll smoke him out, and collect a nice bounty for the effort.”

Considering the kind of ideas books put in some people’s minds, Cole figured too many printed words and too little company could have been the culprit behind the Wolfman’s madness. Whoever he was.

A young woman in a simple green dress worn with an apron brought their food—roast beef for Cole and stewed chicken for Lars. When she asked whether they wanted anything else and offered them a pretty smile, Lars leaned back in his chair. Any farther, and he’d have been falling on his face, but somehow he managed to keep his balance.

“It’s pretty quiet. Could you entertain us with a minute of your company? We’re in the area to hunt down the Wolfman. What could you tell us about him that they don’t say in the papers?”

The girl’s brown eyes went wide, and she pulled up a chair from the nearby table. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked like a little dog eager to show off the stick it had proudly dragged home. “Oh, how kind you are to us! Been upward of five years that he’s been around. But my ma says it’s foolish to try and go after him,” she said, sitting down with both hands curled in her lap.

Cole cut into the beef. It was more done than he liked, and kind of tough too, but it was still cooked meat that had been generously seasoned and even had sauce on the side, so he took the first bite, letting Lars do the talking. Since Cole was a wanted man, it was their prefered approach. That way, folk remembered him less. Cole didn’t mind. He’d lost love for people and the company of more than one person at a time a long time ago. He used to say that the West was a dangerous place for young orphans, but all that transpired as a consequence of Ned O’Leary’s treacherous actions proved to Cole that even a man as strong and capable as him wasn’t immune to harm.

Oh, how he wished to leave this Godforsaken town.

“How so? He is just one man after all.”

The girl shook her head. “We don’t know what he is. But like a ghost, he don’t bother you if you don’t bother ‘im. Maybe stop by the church for some holy water?”

Cole almost choked on his food and had to swallow before glancing at her. “Has anyone you know seen this… creature?” he tried.

The girl leaned back in the chair and raised her chin high. “Abraham Jones has, and his brother Josiah too! Seven-foot-tall he is, they said, with claws sharp as razors, and a mouth full of sharp teeth. They’d managed to escape only because their dog took on the beast. Poor thing was never seen again.”

Lars looked thoughtful as he chewed, pale brows drawn together. “Why Wolfman not Bearman then? Or Wolverine man?”

“It howls, sir,” she said and, to Cole’s disbelief, crossed herself.

“Teresa! I need you here,” yelled the bartender, his eyes like slants oozing suspicion about two strangers engaging with an honest young woman. Perhaps she was his daughter or niece. Or maybe he was just kind to a young lady who worked at his establishment.

Once Teresa had left, Lars stared straight into Cole’s eyes, digging into his food. “There you have it. It howls.”

Cole dragged his hands down his face. “I’m not afraid of howls. If this loony resists, we’ll just shoot him and take a smaller bounty.”

“So brave,” Lars snickered and patted Cole’s cheek again. This time, it was too much, and Cole’s fist flew at Lars’s face in a quick jab meant to split the lip in warning without doing any permanent damage. Lars groaned and touched his mouth as his head bobbed forward.

“Just eat your food,” Cole growled, returning to his own chow.

Lars scowled but once he licked the fresh blood off his mouth, his face brightened in a smile. “Oh, it bites! What if I’d been traveling with the Wolfman all along?”

Cole shook his head. “If you say one more word until the end of this meal, I’m not letting you suck my cock tonight.”

Lars bit back a smile and tipped his hat in silence.

 

 

Chapter 2


“If I die here because a fox stole your compass, I’ll be haunting you for the rest of your life! Which will be short, because you will freeze as well!” Cole spat, huddled by the small campfire they’d made while the sun was setting. The snow slowed their progress, but its presence was a testament to the harsh conditions so high up above Beaver Springs. It was March, for God’s sake!

Lars’s teeth clattered and the yellow light turned his handsome face into a mask of fury. “Maybe if you didn’t say you recognized the area, we wouldn’t have gone off the path in the first place!”

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