Cole and Ned moved along after brief goodbyes, diving farther into the labyrinth of tents, wagons and booths offering everything from sweets to dirty pictures.
Ned glanced at Cole with a puzzled expression. “What was he implying? That we needed to hide? Does he know you’re a wanted man?”
“He does,” Cole said, hesitating, only to add. “But he’s also like us.”
It took Ned passing three more wagons to process that. “Oh. So… he and that feller with face paint—”
Cole smirked. “For the most part. They’re way more adventurous than me in that department,” he said, watching Ned’s face as they moved almost too slowly, because arriving at their goal would have finished this conversation, and Cole wanted to know what Ned thought.
Jan was careful about the people he hired, and since he wanted to feel at peace in his own home, many in the troupe shared his taste in partners. Someone like Ned, someone with nothing to tie him to any place, someone on the run, might easily find a home with this wandering circus.
Ned harrumphed and pushed his hands into his pockets. “And how would you know that?”
Jealousy.
It shouldn’t have made Cole smile, but it did, and he tapped the side of his boot against Ned’s calf. “Everyone here knows. And Adam did proposition me a few times.”
The rusty cogs in Ned’s head sped up as if Cole’s words were grease. “And yet you’re not looking to stay here.” More of a question than a statement, but as they walked down the quiet alley between various show tents, Ned looked back toward the canteen with more attention.
“Would that be a reason to stay?” Cole stepped that bit closer to Ned’s side, wary of every twitch on his face.
Ned was in need of guidance, and if he fit in with the troupe, he might find a home and the companionship he needed. He’d be safe with these people. Maybe even be happy with someone who could give him the benefit of the doubt. Unlike Cole.
Ned shrugged. “Sure sounds better than needing to sneak around all your life and have folks question why you ain’t got a wife yet.”
“They don’t ask questions if you’re only passing through,” Cole said, swallowing when Ned’s lips squeezed more tightly. “Is that what you’d want? Enough men to choose from here.”
Ned scowled, as if Cole had forced him to bite into a lemon. “I’m not lookin’ for what I already found.”
“Take your head out of the clouds,” Cole snapped and moved faster when he spotted the familiar tent with a camera painted on the canvas, and prices listed on a sandwich board standing by the entrance.
“Gavin?” Cole shouted before Ned could have caught up with him.
“Who’s asking?” came from inside in a jolly voice with a strong British accent.
Cole didn’t wait for an invitation and entered, followed by the guard dog that was Ned. He could practically sense hot breath on his nape and ran inside, in time to see Gavin emerge from the dark space where he worked on the pictures. He was quite a handsome fellow, even if short, and hadn’t changed one bit. Even Gavin’s whiskers, which he carefully styled with wax each morning, remained familiarly lopsided.
“Long time no see,” Cole said, and pulled Gavin into a brief embrace, just to prove to Ned that nothing had changed since their argument earlier.
As soon as Cole pulled away by an inch, Ned inserted himself between them and shook Gavin’s hand. “Ned.”
Gavin looked up, and the smile on his round face broadened. “You have strong hands,” he said, prompting Cole to bite his lips, because there was no way for Ned to grasp why this comment was so amusing. In Gavin’s world, large palms meant large red marks on his behind. Cole didn’t understand that proclivity, but had heard in great detail about it from Gavin back in the day.
“Um. Thank you?”
Gavin took a deep breath and gently smoothed out his short blond hair. “Let me know if you ever want to put them to good use for a few dollars—”
Cole was quick to end this foolishness. “Ned, go get Tommy some popcorn, will you? I’ve got photography matters to talk through.”
“But we only just met,” Gavin protested and pointed to a decorative frame hung on a wooden board that only existed for the purpose of holding up the picture. “Has Cole told you I’m a distant relative to England’s Queen Victoria?”
The photograph did show Gavin standing alongside the stern monarch, but Cole could have sworn he’d seen that same photograph of her, without anyone looming behind the fancy armchair. That was the issue with Gavin—one could trust him when it came to important things, but for all Cole knew, the man’s entire life story was as close to reality as a flying pig.
Ned’s face told Cole he’d bought the buffoonery. “No. In fact, Cole’s told me far too little about any of this.”
“Will you check on Tommy, though? I won’t be long,” Cole said, desperate to get Ned out before he spoke to Gavin. He shouldn’t have come here with him in the first place. Gavin was not the man for Ned. Ned needed someone steady, not a floozy who stuck out their bottom for any man with a strong hand, and constantly embellished his biography.
Ned huffed. “Fine, but don’t take too long,” he said, and when he left, the flap closing the tent swished back to slap Cole in the rear. A very fitting ending to this terrible conversation.
“Is he a special friend? I’m sensing a tension between you two,” Gavin hummed, all but rubbing his hands with glee. He was looking for fresh gossip, but Cole would demand discretion.
“Not exactly, but he doesn’t share your tastes, so no point in teasing him. He likely won’t understand you anyway,” Cole told him and pulled his box camera out of the satchel.
Gavin shrugged. “How do you know he wouldn’t be interested?”
Cole exhaled. Even if Ned did share Gavin’s proclivities, those two would have been like water and oil. Ned was wholesome and more sensitive than his tough exterior suggested, while Gavin spoke lies with the same ease he did truths. “I wanted to ask you to develop some photographs I’ve taken, Gav.”
“Oh? Where have your travels taken you this time?” He smiled and invited Cole farther inside with a gesture.
“Colorado. Utah.” Cole cleared his throat, knowing he’d had to explain why he couldn’t have used the services of just any man with the right set of skills. “One of the pictures is… private. I’d appreciate it if you kept that between us,” he said, stepping into the dark space smelling of acid.
Gavin’s eyebrows rose and he smirked like a cat that had gotten its fill of cream. “Ooh. Of him?”
“Do not make a copy for your own use or anyone else’s. You’re not that hard to find, Gav,” Cole said and made sure to walk right into Gavin’s personal space.
Gavin hummed but looked away and adjusted his jacket. “Fine. I understand. Thank you for trusting me with it. I will take care with your photographs.”
The flap behind them flew open and another of Cole’s old acquaintances rushed in with a big grin on his square-jawed face. “Where’s Lars?” were the first words Terje said, and Cole’s mood dropped like a slab of rotten meat falling off a long-dead carcass.