The Bone Orchard Read Online Free PDF

was Ambrose Shaw. The world had lost a hero when he’d died, but by some miracle, he was still here with Ezra, a light in the darkness that refused to extinguish until justice was done.
    Ambrose let Ezra go before the quicksand feeling could start, but Ezra still felt the loss of the contact. Even when he heard the constable bringing Jennings toward the gallows, he didn’t turn his eyes away from Ambrose. If Ambrose was here to see his revenge, then it only stood to reason that he’d disappear when Jennings took his last breath, vanishing into eternity much like he’d done in their room. If that was going to happen, and Ambrose wasn’t going to magically reappear in the rocking chair, Ezra wanted to remember him just like this: a stoic, shining beacon of all that was good and right.
    Ambrose’s attention was on Jennings, following his progress up the wooden steps of the newly constructed gallows. His eyes sparked in the light of the setting sun, and he scanned the crowd, seeing things, people, that Ezra couldn’t. Ambrose wasn’t the only victim here to witness the death of Boone Jennings.
    “I never thought myself a vengeful man,” he said to Ezra, then returned his steely gaze to the gallows. “I was wrong.”
    Jennings stood laughing at the crowd, mocking them, speaking of all the lives he’d taken, the way he’d made his victims suffer and tremble in fear. The crowd booed and hissed, shouting that they’d take him to the hanging tree if the executioner didn’t do it fast.
    “I hope they tie the knot wrong,” Ezra grumbled.
    “Bet I could take care of that,” Ambrose said with a grin.
    Ezra shook his head. “Can’t grab a doorknob but he can tie a knot.”
    Ambrose harrumphed and crossed his arms.
    A black hood was put over Jennings’s head, more to save the witnesses the horror of watching than to offer him any dignity in death. Then the noose was looped over his neck, the hangman’s knot placed under his left ear to offer a quick and mostly painless death.
    “Short drop and a sudden stop,” Ambrose growled. “It’s better than he deserves.”
    Ezra took Ambrose’s forearm and shook his head. “Don’t let his sins sully your soul,” he whispered. He held tight to Ambrose.
    Ambrose nodded grimly. He shook out his arm until his fingers latched on to Ezra’s, and he squeezed him tightly. His hand was icy cold, like gripping a ball of snow. He was solid, though, and Ezra held on to the man as if his own life were somehow hanging in the balance.
    They stood there hand in hand and watched as the lever was thrown and Jennings dropped. He swung, his feet twitching for several seconds until finally that stopped as well. The crowd watched silently, the creak of the noose the only sound as the sun set on the gallows.
    A breeze ran through the crowd, and Ezra shivered. He glanced to his side, but Ambrose was no longer there. Ezra’s eyes pulled skyward, toward the pink and orange of a lovely sunset streaking across the horizon. He gave the clouds a melancholy nod, the frozen imprint of Ambrose’s touch still on his palm.

Ezra dined alone. It was a good thing too, because he had no appetite. He pushed his steak around on the plate, brooding. He didn’t know if it meant he was losing his mind, but he’d spent the last day with a ghost and now he missed him. He almost wished Jennings had been given one last night, so Ambrose could have had that time as well.
    The things Ezra wanted to ask Ambrose, the tales Ambrose could have told him of his life. What good would that have done, though? He’d only have gotten to know Ambrose well enough to truly pine over him.
    He set his fork down and cradled his face in both hands, finally willing to admit that he was in mourning. He hadn’t known Ambrose in life, but now it felt bleak without him.
    When at last he looked up, dragging his fingers over his face, a man was sitting across from him. Ezra blinked at him, his fingers still covering his