“N—Ned,” he uttered, but when the damn fool passed the cabin, heading for its front just as the tip of the roof caved in, Cole let go of the boy and dashed after him, inhaling the smoke of Ned’s entire life burning down.
If Ned somehow make his way inside, he’d die. He’d end up crushed or trapped by debris and burn alive, and there wouldn’t be a thing Cole could do to help him, so he let out a roar and let his legs carry him to the front of the house where, in the bright light of the flames, Ned threw his weight at the locked door.
“Stop! Ned, Stop,” Cole cried and dragged him back with every ounce of strength he had. The fire danced through the air like demon tongues, and their heat made Cole feel as if his skin was already burning.
“No!” Ned yelled, fighting Cole’s hold, but unable to break free. “The photograph! You dropped it to the floor! It’s on the floor!”
Cole forced one of Ned’s arms back even though he hated causing Ned pain. “No, Ned, I took it, remember?”
“You didn’t! It’s in there,” Ned cried in helpless anguish as he moved a step forward, dragging Cole with him.
The poor bastard didn’t remember the very cause of the argument they’d had before Zeb revealed his presence. Breathless, Cole reached into his coat and pulled out the frame.
“Look! It’s here!” He shook Ned and pushed the picture in front of his face just as Ned fell to his knees in an attempt to free himself.
But when his eyes met the two young men in the photographer’s studio, Ned stilled and took the frame into his red-stained hands. He held it gently, as if it were a holy relic and whispered, “It’s here.”
Cole leaned against Ned and closed his arms around him without thinking, pressing his nose to the sweaty neck, which still pulsed with warmth and life. “Did he get you? Are you whole?”
Had Ned gotten injured, Cole would have carried him to help on his own back, no matter how badly he’d wanted to leave an hour prior. They had history, and the debts they’d owed to one another would never be paid in full.
“I’m all right,” Ned said and rose. “But Dog. Dog’s hurt.” He squeezed Cole’s hand and pulled him away from the blazing cabin.
When they reached the barn, the boy was on his knees, head hung, shoulders hunched as if he was trying to make himself smaller than he was. Ned eyed him warily as he sat by Dog’s side to get a better look at the animal’s leg.
“Was there anyone else with you?” Ned asked, but when the child shook his head in silence, he raised his voice. “Speak up, boy!”
The kid trembled all over, but after a moment’s hesitation, he opened his mouth to show why he hadn’t uttered a word yet. His tongue was only a stub.
“Shit,” Cole hissed and rubbed his forehead, walking up to the boy. They wouldn’t get any answers if they kept his hands tied, so he pulled out his knife, but when the child flinched and backed away into the corner, Cole shook his head. “Will you give me your word that you won’t run? Only wild animals for miles here.”
When the boy nodded, Cole made quick work of the rope and, after glancing at Ned, who was wrapping something around Dog’s broken paw, he met the boy’s brown eyes. Now that he could see more of him, the resemblance to Tom was there in his small nose that already had the same beak-like shape as his father’s, and in the broad forehead. The blond hair was as curly as Tom’s, though the boy had a narrower face.
Tom’s ghost was back, clinging to this child to remind Cole of what he’d done.
“Where’s your mother?”
The boy wouldn’t meet Cole’s gaze, but made the universal gesture for dead by running his thumb across his throat.
“He’s Lotta’s,” Ned uttered.
Cole spun back. “What?” He stared at the boy, told him to stay, and joined Ned by Dog’s shivering form before repeating his initial question in a whisper.
Ned groaned, stroking the poor animal’s head. “She was with child when—everything happened. I was supposed to get her medicine from the doctor, but then it all went to shit too fast.”
Unbelievable. “Is there anything else you failed to mention back then, or is that the last surprise I’m going to have grit my teeth over?”
“No. I don’t think so. It’s just… she asked to keep it secret.” Ned rubbed his eye, staining his cheek with blood in the process. What a fucking mess.
Cole briefly hid his face in his palms, only to peek through his fingers when Dog whined like a baby. “What about him?” he asked softly, staring at the beast’s broken leg and the blood already soaking through the fabric wrapped around it. As hard as this was, Cole had been there with Thunder. Sometimes, it was mercy to let an animal die.
This time it was Ned who whined as he lay down by his beloved pet. “He has a chance. We should take him to a doctor. I know a quick route down the mountain to a little village where we could get help. There’s no snow to slow us down. I just… I don’t have any money, Cole.”
Cole wanted to argue against this. The doctor, or anyone in that village, could have seen their faces on the gallows. Risking their lives for a dog was foolish, but when he looked at the poor thing, the ice cap covering his heart started melting. The beast had saved him. Didn’t it deserve the same courtesy in return?
His gaze wandered to the cabin engulfed by fire. They were far enough for it to not pose immediate danger, but they couldn’t stay at the homestead overnight. Everything would be gone come morning.
Ned had nothing.
Nothing but the few things he’d carried through the tunnel.
“I’ll pay. I owe him that much,” Cole said and gave Dog’s trembling head a gentle pat.
The smile stretching Ned’s face didn’t fit the blood smeared on his cheek. “Hear that? You just gotta push through, and we’ll take care of you.”
Which also meant Cole would be sticking around with Ned that bit longer. But with the house burning down, it was impossible to make any plans for the future. It wasn’t as if he could leave Ned homeless and without the means to feed himself and his animals.
And then, there was the issue of the boy.
Ned sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. One side of his face was illuminated by the raging fire, while the other half hid in the shadow. This was how Cole saw Ned. He might think he knew everything there was to Ned, but a piece of this man was always obscured and out of his grasp.
Ned got up with a deep exhale, but fuck only knew what was going on in that red head. After the stunt with the wood carving, he might as well have been a walking stick of dynamite. “I’m sorry for this,” he muttered, picking up Dog as gently as possible but the animal still whimpered, twitching as if he wanted to be lowered.
“We better move now, before the fire spreads,” Cole said in a soft voice. It seemed like all the fury he’d felt toward Ned less than half an hour ago had been left in the burning house.
As he stepped toward Carol’s stall, intending to saddle her up, a soft groan made all the hairs on his body bristle. He turned around to look at Zeb’s prone form.
The bastard’s fingers twitched.
Cole swallowed and met Ned’s gaze. “He’ll follow wherever we go. We shouldn’t leave a loose thread,” he said, even though the words stung his throat as if they were cacti.