The Bone Orchard Read Online Free PDF Page A

suppose. I don’t know. Is it not in the west? How is it handled out here?”
    Ambrose snorted. “Folks in the cow towns are more worried about living through the winter than who you’re in cahoots with.”
    “I suppose that does offer perspective.”
    “I seen my fair share of men who’d just as soon lay with another man as a woman, and since women ain’t too common, you make due. Me? I always chose the spurs in favor of the garters.”
    Ezra realized he was staring once more, an indecipherable ache in his chest. “I’ve never heard it phrased quite as such, but I did cause my family quite the scandal when I filled my dance cards with young gentlemen rather than young ladies.”
    “Now I’m really wishing I’d met you while I was still alive,” Ambrose said. “Or at least when I could still touch a door.”
    “I could leave you and the door alone, if you wish me to.”
    Ambrose very nearly growled. “The things we could do. You, me, and that door.”
    A knock at the door interrupted Ezra’s response. He went to answer it, giving Ambrose a second glance as he walked past.
    The desk attendant was standing in the hallway holding a piece of paper. “They’ve sent word from the Palace Hotel,” the man said with a smile.
    Ezra took the paper and unfolded it quickly. He could feel Ambrose behind him, the cold shiver of his presence so close. Ezra thanked the attendant and closed the door. Ambrose’s eyes were wide and shining, his lips parted in anticipation of the verdict.
    “They’ve given him no reprieve. He’ll hang at sunset.”

    The spectacle drew quite the crowd. The trial had been decisive, but even Ezra was shocked by the verdict being returned in less than a day. It seemed no one wanted Boone Jennings to be breathing for another night. He’d almost escaped twice during the two weeks between his capture and his trial. They weren’t taking any more chances.
    Ezra and Ambrose stood off to the side, where they would be able to watch the man’s feet twitch while he died.
    Even though this was the outcome everyone had hoped for, Ezra’s heart was heavy. He glanced at Ambrose, who was watching Boone Jennings like a fox watches a mouse. Ezra checked around them to see if anyone was near enough to hear, then stepped closer to Ambrose and lowered his voice to speak. “When he hangs, do you suppose you’ll go with him?”
    Ambrose turned to him, one eyebrow raised high. He pushed back the brim of his hat and glanced at the gallows. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I hope I don’t go to the same place he’s bound.”
    Ezra blinked away the stir of dread. But it wasn’t merely the thought of burning in an eternal Hell, or even a peaceful ending in Heaven for someone like Ambrose, who by all accounts was a good and decent man, meant for a pair of angel’s wings when his work was done. It wasn’t the thought of where Ambrose might be heading after his reason for remaining was gone; it was the thought that he would go at all.
    Ambrose met Ezra’s eyes and smiled wistfully. “I reckon we should say our good-byes first, just in case.”
    Ezra returned the smile sadly. “I suppose so.”
    Ambrose stuck out his hand, holding it just in front of Ezra’s stomach so he could reach for it discreetly. Ezra gripped it hard, as if that would make it easier for Ambrose to hold on. It was cold in his palm, icy tendrils sliding up his fingers.
    Ambrose’s grip stayed solid, and his eyes locked with Ezra’s. “Must be more emotional than I thought,” he said. “Saying good-bye to . . . to life . Makes it easy to hold to you.”
    Ezra’s fingers tightened as if he could keep Ambrose there by mere strength. This was a man who’d spent his life keeping good people safe from men like Boone Jennings, who’d dedicated himself to his skill, to a life of solitary hunting, who’d become damn near legendary even in places where so-called civilized society said the pair of dusty boots he wore were uncouth. This