If Zeb hadn’t announced himself earlier and straight-up shot Ned and Cole in the heads, Tommy’s intentions wouldn’t have mattered. They were only discussing them because Zeb had made the same mistake he had that first time.
Ned spread his arms. “I think he’s learned his lesson. He didn’t have to tell me any of this now that Zeb’s dead, but he did, because it gnawed at his conscience.”
“Everyone always has reasons to push others off the cliff,” Cole said and adjusted his bandana in an effort to do something with hands that struggled to stay still. He itched to move them through the air, and have some damn peace on his own, without another man staring at him.
“This isn’t about us,” Ned insisted.
“Everything is about us!” Cole hissed before he could think and turned on his heel, walking to the boarded-up window. He wished there was something he could see on the other side, just to pretend that he wasn’t hiding his face from Ned.
“There is no us anymore, so it’s not. You said your piece, I said mine, so stop scratching at it. There comes a time where a man has to move on. Just promise you won’t hurt the kid.”
Cole had gotten his answer, even if he hadn’t asked for it. There would be no traveling together with the circus and no forgiveness. He only noticed that he’d bitten his lip when it started bleeding. “Jesus, Ned. I spared you. Of course I’ll spare the kid. I’m done with this. With revenge. And with people. They always disappoint me anyway,” he said and walked up to the tin of photographs left on the desk before carrying it back to his things.
“I’ll go get Tommy,” Ned muttered, but Cole was quick to stop him.
“No, I’ll go. I want to talk to him.”
Ned shook his head. “Fine. You know what? I think I’ll sleep in the other room. See you in the morning. Should be safe enough to travel by then.”
Cole didn’t bother answering him and hurried out of the office, stepping ever farther away from the growing rift between them. The vast production area seemed as dark as the deep cave the gang had once camped in, but the railing led him all the way to the stairs, and by the time he descended, his eyes picked up Tommy’s silhouette alongside Dog’s.
He intended to talk with the boy, but his head was empty of ideas to start that conversation, so he ended up trying to whistle Dog’s name. It came out as an embarrassing whiff, but what was he to do? He’d never learn how to do this, not even if Ned O’Leary promised to always stay true.
Tommy and Dog looked up at him at the same time, but the boy seemed wary, a child who’d feared many adults in his life even though his mother had surely loved him. But when Cole gestured for him to approach, Tommy obeyed.
There was no good way to do this, so Cole scooted down and chose to be upfront. “Ned told me the truth.”
Tommy froze at first, but then his whole body scrunched, innocent face twisting with guilt.
[I’m sorry], he signed, and once Cole spotted tears in his eyes, everything was forgiven. Because what else could he do? The boy was fighting for survival the best way he knew and shouldn’t be blamed for it.
“It’s all right. Everyone wants to be safe. That’s normal,” Cole said and reached out to him.
[Don’t hate me] Tommy had to sign twice, because the movements of his hands had been too frantic at first, but when he was sure Cole understood, he uttered a deep sob and fell to his knees.
“I don’t hate you. You’re only a boy,” Cole said and pulled Tommy close.
The moment the short arms hugged him back, sadness descended on Cole like an avalanche held back with a gate of rotten wood. Tightening his hold on Tommy, he looked up, staring at the empty space above as if it were the reflection of his soul.
The comfort of touch dragged Cole’s soft insides out into the open. He needed to end this agony for good and forget Ned O’Leary. Maybe with time, it would be as if both their love, and their hate had been only a bad dream.
“We should leave now. Will you wait for me?” Cole whispered once he trusted his voice again.
Tommy put on a brave face and nodded, wiping away his tears.
“Just be real quiet,” Cole warned and walked off with a growing sense of emptiness in his chest. The room next to the office, which had been open before, was now shut, and one lamp was missing from the desk as Cole faced the interior. A treacherous part of him wished to find Ned still there, or have him surprise Cole while he packed, but he needed to let go of such fantasies.
Most of his belongings hadn’t been unpacked, and almost all of Tommy’s—left on the horse they’d ended up leaving behind, but as he leaned down to pick up the saddle, his gaze wandered to the desk.
It would have been too cruel to leave without a word. The ties binding their lives would be permanently severed, but Ned needed to know what happened to Tommy at least, so Cole approached the desk and froze, noticing that Ned’s jacket, the one with fringed sleeves and the lock of Cole’s own hair hidden in the lining, hung on the chair behind it, like an excuse for Ned to come back at night. Frost overcame Cole’s back, rubbing against him like death itself, and as he approached the garment, lured by its promise of warmth, hesitation clutched his stomach.
But some hard decisions still needed to be made.
Cole picked up the jacket, not wanting to sit on it, but as his fingers touched the leather, the urge to bury his face in its folds became too strong, and he breathed in the musky aroma clinging to the lining.
It smelled of wind. And damp earth. And leaves. Of nights in Ned’s bed and sweet words whispered in moments when they both let their guard down. With a rock growing in his throat, Cole sat in the chair and draped the jacket across his shoulders. It felt heavy, like Ned’s arms, and when he focused on the contents of the open drawer, its warm, musky weight was so easily mistaken for Ned’s that Cole let himself believe the illusion. Sentiment kept gnawing at him as he put a piece of paper in front of him, but once he made the first line with a pencil, words flowed from under his hand, even if laboriously.
Ned,
There was much bad blod between us, but I wish you wel. Maybe once enough time pases, I wil be able to fink back on all dis with fondness. I’l go wherever the wind takes me. Maybe even to Mexico, so I can see my daddy’s kountry.
Judif is an honest woman. I wil leave my savings wif her. She can kare for Tommy until he is al grown up, so don’t worry about him. Just worry about yourself, Ned. I wil not see you again, but if you start drinkin, I wil know, so don’t disapoint me or I’l haunt you when I die. You do dat, and I’l try learn dose akursed bird kries.
Take kare of yourself and find a new home so you kan be safe dere.
He hesitated, with his throat pulsing as if his heart were trapped in the narrow windpipe, but there was no point in further ripping at the seams of old wounds. So he put his name under all this and reluctantly placed the letter on the jacket, securing it with the piece of bark they’d marked with their initials such a long time ago.
Perhaps this time, it would not go up in flames, but despite the hurt and anger burning his veins, Cole wanted to leave Ned with a memento of the bond they used to share, and which still meant so much, no matter how dysfunctional their relationship has been in the past few months.