“Well, Nicky's a... a rare kind of guy. The fact that he liked them should tell you something.” When the last wedge was cut from the apple, Josiah pitched the core over his shoulder. “Just humor me. Will you wear my coat?” He was already shrugging it off, as if he had already decided for her.
“I guess so.”
“Good.” Josiah draped his brown coat over Carol's shoulders and coaxed her arms through its sleeves. “There. It looks good on you! If you pair it up with that bowler hat, you'll actually start to look tough.” He tried to keep the note of triumph out of his voice.
“The sleeves are too big for me.” Carol waved her arms, making the excess material sway.
“That's because I'm taller than you.”
“Not by much, shortcakes.” Even though she teased him, he was actually several inches taller than she was. “This coat smells.”
“What's it smell like?” Josiah was almost afraid to ask.
“It smells like...” Carol buried her face in the collar and breathed deeply. “It smells like cigarettes and shattered dreams.”
“That sounds about right,” agreed a chuckling Josiah.
“Wait... did you just laugh?” Carol gasped. “Did I actually make Josiah Cole laugh? You're so moody all the time, I was starting to think you weren't capable of anything like laughter.”
“I didn't laugh. I snickered. Slightly.” Hoping to steer the conversation in another direction, Josiah shoved a revolver into Carol's hand. “Now... you said you could shoot, right? Prove it to me.”
“Alright. What do you want me to shoot?”
“See that cactus over there? Not the prickly pear, the tall one.” There was only one unusually tall cactus in front of them, so he assumed she would understand what he meant. “Shoot it.”
Carol whimpered, “Aww. What did that poor cactus ever do to you?”
“You need a target, Miss Cassady. And unless you want to shoot a moving target, like that buzzard plucking away at that unidentifiable corpse over there, I'd say the cactus is just fine.”
“Alright, Josiah Cole. You're the boss.” Carol raised the gun and took aim. “I feel bad about it, though. That poor cactus is just minding its own business, and you want to fill it with holes!”
“Don't tilt your head so much,” Josiah coached her. “It'll throw off your aim.”
She simultaneously fired her gun and lifted her head. Neither Carol nor Josiah looked surprised when her shot didn't land anywhere near the cactus. Frightened by the sound of gunfire, the ratty buzzard abandoned its carrion.
“You're not doing it quite right, Miss Cassady. Here.” Josiah stood behind her, uncomfortably close. When she felt him brushing against her body, an inexplicable tension entered her shoulders. “Relax,” he whispered.
“I'm trying. You're making it... difficult.”
Josiah rotated Carol's head, correcting its tilt. After straightening her arm, he put his hand on top of hers, encouraging her to grip the gun more firmly. “How's that feel?”
“How's what feel?” Carol asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you talking about the gun in my hand, or the fact that you're practically dry humping me from behind?”
“Oh, am I too close? My apologies, ma'am.”
Carol couldn't tell if his reply was sarcastic or serious. Either way, he didn't budge. “So, am I ready to fire away?”
“Almost. Aim a little further to the left.” With his hand on hers, he corrected her aim just a bit. When it looked perfect, Josiah pressed the trigger with her.
When a hole appeared in the middle of the cactus, Carol cheered, “Whoo hoo! You did it! And I really mean you did it... because I did nothing. You did all the work for me.”
“Try it again yourself.” Josiah stepped back and thrust his hands into the pockets of his breeches. “Go on.”
Carol fired again, without Josiah's assistance. She hit the cactus a second time, but not quite in its center.
“Not bad.” Josiah clapped her on the back, as he might have done with one of his buddies. “Keep practicing just like that, and we might actually make something of you, Carol Cassady.”
“So... Josiah.” When Carol tried to aim at the cactus' arm, she fired and missed. “Thanks for letting me tag along. If you really wanted to, you could've ditched me a long time ago... but you didn't.”
“No. You're right. I didn't.”
Carol thought she detected a hint of regret in his reply, but she didn't point it out. “Hey... maybe I'll be a decent sidekick for you one day? You never know.”
“Maybe. But I already have a sidekick, you know,” Josiah said. “Or did you not notice my little brother?”
“Well, he doesn't talk that much. Sometimes it's hard to notice him.”
“True enough.” Josiah turned his gaze toward the colorless sky and sighed. “But if that boy gets out of my shadow one day, he'll be a force to be reckoned with. Hell, at the rate he's improving, I'll probably be his sidekick soon enough.”
“If that's the case, maybe I can be the sidekick of the sidekick?” Carol suggested. “What should my official title be? The sidesidekick? Super sidekick?”
Josiah started to reply, but the sound of horse hooves made him close his lips. He held a finger to his mouth, encouraging Carol to keep quiet. Then he drew his second revolver and waited for the rider to approach.
As soon as he saw the bouncing auburn curls—not to mention, the unmistakable masses bouncing under her shirt—Josiah groaned loudly.
“Gwendolyn Montgomery...” When he reproachfully uttered her name, Josiah sounded a bit like a father admonishing his child. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Josiah!” Gwen leapt from her white stallion and rushed toward him with outstretched arms. “Josiah... thank god I caught up to you! For awhile, I thought I'd lost track of you!”
Gwen hugged him, but Josiah's arms stayed firmly at his sides. “You didn't answer my question, Gwen. What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to be with you!” Gwen exclaimed. “If she gets to travel with you, why can't I?” The younger woman wrinkled her nose as she glared in Carol's direction. “Hey... is she wearing your coat?”
“Gwen, you gotta go home.” Josiah lightly pushed her back to her horse. “You can't be here. Do you know what your father would do if he saw you with me? First, he'd probably say I'd forced you to come. Then he'd skin me alive. God only knows what he'd do to Pat...”
“Awwwww Josiah!” Gwen whined. “Is it really so bad if I stay? I'm tired of waiting around in Gravestone, hoping you'll show up. Every time I see you, it's the highlight of my day. So... I realized something. If I went with you, every moment of every day could the highlight of my day! Would you really deprive me of that?”
“Yep. Sorry, sweetheart.” Gwen Montgomery was probably one of the nation's incomparable beauties, and most men would think he was crazy for banishing her, but her father was one of the few people he feared. “You've really got to go!”
“No!” Gwen stamped her foot like a temperamental child. “You can't make me!”
“I kinda can.” When he started to lift her into her horse's saddle, she shoved him away.
“Noooo! Jo!” Gwen begged him. “I don't know how to get back on my own! We're in the middle of the desert! What if I get lost? What if I run into an outlaw and he rapes me? What if I get robbed or... or attacked by a bloodthirsty vulture?”
“Then I should probably take you back to Gravestone myself. Of course, that means there's absolutely no way I'll catch up to my brother, but you're leaving me no choice.” As Josiah dragged a hand over his face, his tired eyelids drooped. The women in his life were going to be the death of him.
“Eh, just let her come,” a shrugging Carol suddenly injected her opinion.
One of Josiah's blonde eyebrows shot up, further souring his expression. “Pardon?”
“I think you should just let the girl come. You let me come, right? And she's clearly desperate to be with you. So... why not?”<
br />
“You don't have a father who'll be out for my blood, Miss Cassady!” Josiah exclaimed. “Or... do you?”
Carol shook her head. “No. But if I did, would you suddenly send me packing?”
“Maybe.” Josiah's hands cradled his lips as he tried to decide what to do. Carol had never seen him look more distressed. After an uncomfortable period of silent deliberation, he finally spoke again. “Fine, Gwen. You can come. But when I return to Gravestone—and I will—you can't tell your father you were with me. Do you understand?”
“Uh huh.” Gwen flashed a smile at Carol. She expected the other woman to be a rival, but if she was going to stick up for her, maybe she wasn't so bad? Of course, she intensely resented the fact that Carol was wearing Josiah's coat, but Gwen was willing to give her a chance.
“And now we should probably get moving again,” Josiah suggested as he turned his eyes skyward. Under his breath, he added, “heaven help me.”
Seventeen
“Are you still not talking to us, Jun? Really?” Nicky whined as their group made camp for the second night in a row. “Actually, Flynn was never talking to you, so he doesn't count. But I feel like you're giving me the cold shoulder!”
Jun sat beside the fire and stared into her bowlful of beans. Flynn tried to enhance it with a bit of dried meat, but it was still as bland as ever.
“Jun!” Nicky was desperate for some kind of reply. “Look, I'm sorry we were spying on you, but you can't forget all the good things I've done for you! I saved you from a night with Ed Hershall... which, by the way, cost me a lot of money! And now I've taken you halfway to Santo Feo, so--”
Flynn leaned forward and whispered in his ear.
“More than halfway!” Nicky corrected himself. “Flynn says we'll be there tomorrow... so you can't be mad at me!”
Flynn brought his lips to Nicky's ear a second time.
“Us!” Nicky amended himself again. “You can't be mad at us!”
For the first time in several hours, Jun finally spoke. “I'm sure I'll get over it... eventually.” As a spoonful of beans hovered by her lips, Jun changed her mind. She tilted the spoon, letting the beans rain back into the bowl. “I really do appreciate everything you two have done for me. I'm just disappointed in you.”
Flynn didn't need to say anything. His eyes were wet with shame and regret.
“I get that you're disappointed, but you need to understand how a man's brain works,” Nicky tried to reason with her. “If we know there's a naked girl nearby... not to mention, a beautiful naked girl... asking us to stay away is like telling a starving man not to touch the food. It's not only difficult, it's downright cruel.”
“If you say so,” Jun sighed.
“It's the truth! And if Flynn could talk, I'm sure he'd agree with me!” Nicky opened up a bottle of whiskey and winced through a few powerful swigs. When he poured some into his beans, Jun stuck out her tongue in disgust.
“Alcohol and beans, Nicky? Really?” Jun made a loud gagging noise.
“Sure. Why not?” Nicky shoveled his food through his lips with renewed interest. “I mean, I wouldn't say it's delicious, but it's better than plain beans. The whiskey gives it a real nice kick.”
Jun was getting tired of the boys' company, and she was done eating her food, so she retired to her bedroll earlier than usual. Flynn was next to go down, followed by Nicky, who wasn't looking forward to another sleepless night. As he stared at the stars, he dreamed of ice cream. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a marriage of delicious strawberries and ice cold cream uniting on his tongue.
When sleep didn't find him after the first hour, he rolled on his stomach. In a bed, he always slept on his stomach, so he was hoping to trick his brain into thinking he was someplace cozy. However, lying facedown was a mistake. It made it far too easy for Logan Hershall to get the jump on him.
“Hello, boy,” Logan hissed as he leapt onto Nicky's back. While straddling him, the elder Hershall pulled Nicky's arms backward and proceeded to bind his wrists. “I bet you're awful surprised to see me all the way out here, aren't you? Did you think I wouldn't find you? Did you think I wouldn't know who took my money? You must think I'm pretty damn dumb.”
“Ahhh,” Nicky groaned as Logan's knee dug deep into his spine. Hoping it wasn't too late to warn his companions, he yelled, “Flynn, wake up!”
Flynn's eyes snapped open in a flash, but Ed Hershall was already closing in on him. When he saw the metal glinting in the dark, Flynn realized he was looking at a knife. His leg flew upward, kicking the knife out of Ed's hand. Ed tried to tackle him, but Flynn was too fast. He rolled, sat up, and pummeled the side of Ed Hershall's head. As Flynn reached for Ed's discarded knife, his attacker grabbed his legs and pulled him backward. Flynn responded by sending an elbow into Ed's nose, and a stream of fresh blood soaked the Hershall brother's graying mustache.
“You goddamn little shit!” Ed roared. He tried to retaliate with a right hook, but it was evaded by Flynn, who countered with an uppercut. When Ed fell, Flynn crawled to the knife. A few seconds later, the silver blade was pressed against Ed's bearded throat.
“Yeah... I'd let my brother go, if I was you!” Logan threatened him. Flynn tightened his grip on the knife and waited for the older Hershall to make a move. Nicky was on the ground, hog-tied and gagged. A short distance away, Logan Hershall was dragging Jun back to camp. She had attempted to flee during Flynn's scuffle with Ed, but Logan quickly caught up to her. The girl was squirming and kicking, flailing and punching. When Logan slapped her on the rear, it made her settle down a bit. “If you don't want anything bad to happen to your pretty friend right here, I'd suggest you let go of my little brother.”
“Oh, yeah?” Flynn pressed the knife against Ed's throat a little bit harder. “I have another deal for you. If you don't want anything bad to happen to your little brother, why don't you let go of my friend?”
“It's not going to work that way, boy!” Logan held up a knife and brought it to Jun's shoulder. “You really want to risk the life of this pretty young thing? I don't think you do.”
“And do you want to risk the life of your brother?” As Flynn sputtered his counter-threat, the tip of his knife carved a bead of blood from Ed Hershall's neck.
With a snigger, Logan cut away the top of Jun's shirt, baring her shoulder and half of her breast. As his fingers glided along her stomach, he brought his lips to her neck, suckling loudly. “If you don't want me to do more than this, you better let go of my brother,” Logan whispered an icy threat. “'Cause I swear, if you draw blood on my brother again, I'll rape this bitch right in front of you, boy. And don't you go thinking I won't, because believe me, I want to. This here's a fine bit of snatch if ever I did see one.”
Flynn's blue-gray eyes narrowed into slits. He could have risked his own life in a heartbeat. He might have even been able to risk Nicky, but he couldn't risk Jun's safety. “If I move my knife, you won't hurt her?” As he asked the question, Flynn's voice trembled, betraying his fear.
“I absolutely won't,” Logan promised him. “I'm here for my money, not the girl.”
As soon as Flynn dropped his knife and raised his hands in the air, Logan shoved Jun to the ground and tied her up. Flynn was last to be bound, and it was done by Ed, who dealt a hard slap to Flynn's head before tying the rope around his wrists. “I'm tyin' you extra tight, boy,” Ed said, tugging the knot as hard as he could. “That's what you get for breaking my goddamn nose!”
A slight smile pulled at Flynn's lips. If Ed's nose was really broken, he was glad. It was the least he deserved.
Logan Hershall turned his attention to Nicky Gunn, who was squinting and whispering a prayer. “Oh, Nicky Gunn... you lousy lowlife piece of shit. I've got a question for you.” Logan squatted beside him, grabbed his hair, and roughly pulled back on Nicky's head. “Where the hell is my money?”
“It's with Flynn's brother!” Nicky gave up the information a bit too quickly. The Hershalls were famous for tortur
ing their victims, and he didn't want to be one of them. “After I stole the money, I left it with Josiah.”
“Aw, hell. Josiah Cole?” Ed spat the name as he shoved Flynn onto his stomach. “It sounds like this just got a little more complicated.”
“And where the hell is Josiah? Huh? I don't see him out here!” Logan threw up his arms as he scanned the tiny campsite. “I need my money, boy. Tell me where I can find him.”
“Umm...” Nicky's eyelids fluttered at the question. He didn't want anyone else to end up captured and tortured because of him—least of all, Josiah Cole, who he admired like an older brother.
“Tell me, boy!” Logan hollered into his ear. “Tell me, or you'll be eating shit for supper tonight.”
Nicky's throat was rattled by an anxious chuckle. “I already ate supper, actually. But thanks anyway.”
His sarcastic comment got him a punch in the stomach. Logan hit him so hard, Nicky saw stars for a moment.
“Ya'll should make him eat shit anyway,” suggested Ed Hershall, whose face was so close to Flynn, he could smell the foulness of his breath. Ed's mouthful of blackened teeth made his breath smell like rot. “He deserves to eat shit after he stole your money, brother.”
“Good idea.” Logan forcibly turned Nicky's head in the direction of Flynn's handsome bay. “And look, we're in luck! It looks like one of your horses just dropped a fresh load. It might even be nice and warm. That ought to feel real good on a cold desert night. Hell, you might even thank me for it.” Logan staggered to the horse's fresh excrement, scooped a nugget into his hands, and returned to Nicky's side. “You'll have to tell me what this tastes like, boy.”
Nicky kept his lips as tight as possible when Logan ran the horse's manure across his cheeks and mouth. When he finished, he patted Nicky's head, scattering remnants of horse droppings in his hair. Ed Hershall guffawed at the distraught expression on the young man's face. “Well, that's just about the best thing I've seen all month!” Ed declared. “I'm really glad we rode out here. Even if we don't find the money, that show was worth it.”
The Emperor's Bride (Belles & Bullets Book 6) Page 12
