Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Ned hitched his horse by the train station and jumped over the wooden railing at the edge of the platform. He headed for the waiting room, where Cole had held him that morning, but now the lights were on, and he could already see dark silhouettes inside. The clerk might have killed himself rather than suffer like most of the townsfolk, but the telegraph office was surely open for business. He chose to stop in town on his way to Cole to contact Homer and Thaddeus Craig and lure the two agents here with a short message, but as the door shut behind him all too loudly, he found himself face to face with them instead.
“Mr… Craig,” he said in a flat voice.
Their faces hadn’t aged a day, while he felt like a different person from the young, innocent man they’d met two months ago. That man had claimed he could never kill anyone. That he wasn’t ‘that kind of man’, but perhaps any man was that kind when cornered.
The Craigs wore different suits, but they were similar in style—somber and perfectly respectable without being too fashionable. Homer might have gained a fraction of an inch around the waist, and his hair had grayed a bit more, but Thaddeus, with his focused gaze and thin lips, might have stepped out of a photograph of their initial meeting in Aunt Muriel’s parlor.
Homer adjusted his hat and frowned. “O’Leary.”
No longer a Mr. then. Did Thaddeus’s hand twitch close to the gun at his hip?
The old Ned would have been afraid, but this new man he’d become had way more cool. “I came to the station as soon as I could. I even tried telegraphing on my own this morning, but… the clerk was dead, so I’m not sure if it worked.”
The men, who'd so far been stiff as if they’d been starched along with their shirt collars, relaxed and looked at one another.
“The next station over received your message. Help Three Stones,” Homer admitted with a smirk, pulling at his heavy whiskers. “And there I was, thinking your soul was no longer redeemable.”
The younger of the two glanced at his father but seemed way more interested in continuing their inquiry. “It’s a horrible thing that happened here. A massacre of such scale in a peaceful town is unprecedented.”
Ned took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. His future hung in the balance now, and he needed to convince them that his belief in the law and moral principles had never waned. “Any time I tried to contact you I risked my life. Those people are monsters,” he said as if he didn’t have blood on his hands. “I’m so glad to see you here. Did you get my message weeks ago, about the Gotham Boys moving on to Arizona?”
Thaddeus nodded, watching Ned without ever blinking. “We did, so we travelled closer ourselves, and were able to come here as soon as we got word of such terror. The Three Stones massacre will no doubt go down in history—”
His father shushed him. “O’Leary. What did you want to message about? It’s not just the two of us here. We’ve come with U.S. Marshals. We have some survivors, some witnesses. We will be able to convict everyone who took part in this savagery. Where are the Gotham Boys hiding?”
Ned’s heart tore as he told them the way, because he was nailing the coffins of the outlaws he’d ridden with for many weeks, some of whom weren’t yet beyond redemption. But those people, even the women, had chosen their fate when joining the gang. And he’d had to give them up to ensure his and Cole’s survival.
“Good man,” Thaddeus said and tapped Ned’s shoulder, his pale gaze drilling into him. “Ride with us.”
Ned’s feet felt heavy as lead. Could he say no without having the two agents turn against him now that he’d regained their tentative trust? If he didn’t show up in the meeting spot, Cole would start worrying and return to camp, for fear that their plot had been discovered. But before he could have made sense of his racing thoughts, Homer Craig shook his head.
“Better not. Those vermin might be monsters, but after living with them for so long, attachments of sorts must have formed. It would have been regretful if Mr. O’Leary hesitated to shoot at one of those beasts and got hurt.”
Ned hung his head, feigning shame. “Thank you for understanding Mr. Craig, I… It’s been a very long day. I just want it all to be over.”
Homer sighed and patted his shoulder. “You did good, boy. You’ll be back on your uncle’s ranch in no time, and you will sleep soundly with the knowledge that you’ve done the right thing.”
Thaddeus seemed more apprehensive, but when urged by his father, he gave Ned some money so he could stay at the saloon, which was somehow back in business already.