Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

On a lazy summer afternoon in 1888, Arthur Morgan was teaching his son how to fish.  They stood next to a small river, barely deep enough for the tiny pickerels and bluegills that Arthur usually threw back if he was unfortunate enough to hook one.  But his son Isaac insisted on going fishing after seeing his father bring some bass for dinner the previous night.  In fact, he babbled non-stop in a way only a four-year-old could until Arthur gave in and took him out for the day.  He just didn’t have the heart to tell Isaac that he bought the fish.

“Now, swing the rod over your shoulder like this,” Arthur said, watching as Isaac copied him.  “Good, now bring it forward in a smooth motion.”

Arthur’s line stretched far to nearly the other side of the river, while Isaac’s flopped a little close to the bank.

“Now what?” Isaac asked.

“Now we wait for a fish to come along.  If you feel a tug on the end of the line, yank hard to hook it.”

“Okay!” Isaac said, staring hard at the spot where the line disappeared into the water.  “When is that gonna happen?”

Arthur chuckled.  “You never know for sure.  You just got to be patient and wait.”

“But how long?”

“Sometimes hours!”

Arthur hadn’t planned on visiting his son that week.  After all, the gang was moving to another town much farther west.  The gang’s leader and Arthur’s mentor, Dutch van der Linde, believed they could repeat their string of successful robberies in a state that, hopefully, had never heard any of their names.  Arthur fully intended on helping them with the packing, but Hosea and Bessie encouraged him to visit his son instead.  Especially since Dutch hoped to cross the mountains before the year’s end, which would make future visits much harder.  They could make the move without him, he could catch up later.  Hosea understood what it was like to have a life separate from the gang.

But as Arthur rode out of camp, he caught the glare Dutch sent his way.  Hosea once told Arthur that Dutch simply worried that Arthur one day wouldn’t come back.  Which was absurd!  He didn’t want to leave the gang.  He had even asked Eliza join them after their one night together resulted in a lot more than either of them expected.  But she refused.  She was young, well they both were, and Arthur had been honest about his criminal past.  She wanted to stay near the town where she grew up.  Arthur helped her buy a little cottage, and brought money whenever he visited.

Arthur’s thoughts drifted to the pile of money in his satchel.  After their most recent bank robbery, he was able to bring quite a substantial amount.  He planned to take Isaac shopping for new clothes and toys before surprising Eliza with a birthday gift and the rest of the cash.  It was the least he could do, considering how little time he was able to visit and help.

But he couldn’t deny the tugging in his heart every time his visit ended.

“How much longer?” asked Isaac.

“Are you bored already?” Arthur teased.

“It’s just waiting!  Can we go for a ride instead?”  Isaac turned his blue-green eyes on Arthur, and how could he refuse?  Isaac had Eliza’s small nose and ears, but he had Arthur’s eyes and light brown hair.

“Sure,” he said, reeling in the line and whistled for his horse, Boadicea.  The dark bay Thoroughbred danced over to them.  Arthur acquired the young filly only a year prior from a man who challenged him to a race.  Arthur took one look at her wild eyes and the spur marks on her flank before pulling his gun and demanding the owner hand her over.  Boadicea followed him back to camp willingly, and she was turning into quite a horse.  He rubbed the crooked stripe on her forehead.  “Ready to go, girl?”

“Can we go really fast?”

“Sure!  Bo loves to run, don’t you?”  As if understanding him, the filly tossed her head.  Once Isaac was seated and secure in front of him, he tapped Bo’s sides and she took off.  They raced along the road and into the trees, Isaac shouting for joy the whole way.

Eventually, they had to slow down.  “That was fun!” Isaac said.  “Can we do it again?”

“We should probably start heading back,” Arthur said.  “We don’t want to be out after dark.  Your mama won’t like that.”

“Can we do it tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Every day?”

“Every day I’m here, how about that?  Unless it’s raining or something.”

But that didn’t get the usual excited response from his boy.  Instead, Isaac asked in a small, quiet voice, “Why do you leave all the time?”

And if that didn’t break his heart.  He should have known it would happen sooner or later.  Isaac was growing up faster than he ever imagined, and he was smart, asking questions all the time.  Arthur figured he got it from Eliza’s side of the family.  He certainly didn’t get it from Arthur himself.

“Well, I have to travel around to make money.  I work so your mama can take care of you.”

“But Tommy’s pa works and he comes home all the time.”

Arthur wondered if Tommy was a new friend.  “Tommy’s pa probably has a job in town.  My job is… different.  You know that.”

Eliza knew he was an outlaw, but the rest of the town believed he was a prospector for an oil company, thus explaining his many comings and goings.  They told the same to Isaac, not that the kid really understood what prospecting entailed.  But Isaac muttered, “I know,” and the conversation dropped as they approached the little cottage.

Arthur pulled Bo up along the side of the house, fully intending to let Isaac run inside while he put Boadicea out with the little Suffolk Punch he bought Eliza to pull their wagon, when he paused.  The door was slightly ajar.  Eliza never liked keeping the door open after the day the chickens got inside and caused a mess.  He strained his ears.  Maybe she was sweeping and needed the door open to get the dust out.  But there was nothing, not even birds chirping in the trees.  His eyes drifted around the house, leading to the shattered glass of one of the windows.

Every instinct screamed to run into the house with his gun drawn, but he couldn’t just ask Isaac to wait outside.  What if someone was still inside?  Or nearby, watching right now?  He couldn’t leave Isaac alone.  “You know what?” Arthur said, unable to cover the slight shake in his voice.  “Let’s visit Jim and Mabel.  I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“But why?”

“It’ll be fun!  Besides, Mabel always has those cookies you like.”  The lure of sugar cookies was enough to stop Isaac’s questioning.  Mabel and her husband Jim lived just down the road on a small homestead, and they absolutely adored Isaac and Eliza.  Their two daughters were married and had moved out, and Isaac often played with their grandchildren whenever they visited.  And, if someone had broken into the cottage, it would be the first place Eliza would think to go.

He hoped Eliza would be there when he knocked on the door.  But Jim’s surprised greeting dashed those hopes.  “Arthur and Isaac!” he said, and something must have shown on Arthur’s face because he glanced down at Isaac and said, “Why don’t you go find Mabel in the kitchen?”

Jim turned to Arthur after Isaac scampered away and said, “What’s wrong?”

“Is Eliza here?”

“No.  Should she be?”

“I think someone broke into the house.”

Jim froze for a second with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes widening.  Then he moved for the closet next to the door, grabbing a shotgun.  “You sure?” he asked.

“Door’s open and a window is broken.  I couldn’t hear anything, but I didn’t want to go in with the boy,” Arthur said, leading the way to the horses.  Moving helped him ignore the gnawing pit in his stomach.

But the pit only grew as they rode back to the cottage, Arthur all the more worried what they would find.  Jim walked the perimeter while Arthur volunteered to go inside.  Pushing the door fully open, Arthur scanned the room with his Cattleman revolver drawn until his eyes landed on what he dreaded seeing.

Eliza lay in the middle of the kitchen in a pool of blood, her eyes closed and her limbs stiff.  Arthur stuttered forward.  He stopped right over her, his hand hovering above her still chest.

“Arthur?” Jim called from the door.  “There’s nothing outside.  Is it safe?”

He couldn’t answer.  He just dropped to his knees next to her.  The door creaked open behind him, and he heard Jim mutter, “Shit,” as he came up behind him.  Arthur jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder, and Jim said, “I’m real sorry, kid.”

Arthur nodded, still too shocked to speak.  He looked around the rest of the kitchen, taking in the overturned jars and opened drawers.  Robbers, looking for money.  Jim seemed to get the same impression, because he said, “I’ll get the sheriff.  Do you want to come with me, or stay here?”

“I’ll stay,” Arthur said.  His tongue felt thick and stuck in his mouth as he said the words.  Jim squeezed his shoulder and left without another word.

Arthur stayed where he was, kneeling next to Eliza.  The setting sun cast shadows across the room and over her body, almost hiding the bloodstains on her dress.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered until his voice grew hoarse.

How was he going to tell Isaac?

Arthur didn’t hear Jim return with the sheriff until the older man was back at his shoulder, carefully guiding him away from Eliza so that the sheriff and a second man could work.  Numbly, Arthur realized the other man was an undertaker.  “I swung by the house and let Mabel know,” Jim said.  “She’ll keep Isaac for tonight, don’t you worry about him.”

The words worked their way through the fog of Arthur’s brain and brought him a little comfort.  The sheriff suggested moving back to his office and letting the undertaker work, and Jim led the way back to town.  Arthur’s eyes distantly watched the houses and shops pass by from the saddle.  Once inside the Bellevue Sheriff’s Office, Jim shoved an open bottle into Arthur’s hands, and the smell of strong whiskey roused him somewhat.  Jim’s hand was back on his shoulder, his grip strong and his eyes kind.  He reminded Arthur of Hosea.

Arthur took a gulp of whiskey, and turned to the sheriff.

“Now, what happened today, son?” Sheriff Walton asked.

Arthur told him as best as he could about the day, fishing with Isaac and coming back to the house.  Jim stayed with him the entire time, adding in the details he saw around the house when he arrived.  It felt weird to be on this side of the sheriff’s office, reporting a crime instead of denying one.
 
Sheriff Walton nodded along, then asked, “Is there anyone who saw you fishing with your son?”

Arthur caught up with what the sheriff was asking two seconds after Jim.  “How dare you!” Jim said.  “How dare you say he had anything to do with this.”

“I didn’t say anything, sir.”

“You sure as Hell implied it!  Do you not see that boy right now?”

“I’m not trying to offend, but sometimes in these cases-”

“Did you not see the house, all turned upside down?  And why would he come get me if he did it?”

Arthur let them argue.  No one saw him at the river as far as he was aware, and he knew saying that wouldn’t help his situation.  But the argument was interrupted by the deputies dragging in two men in dirty traveling clothes.  “Walton, we overheard these two drunkards talking in the saloon.  Complaining that they killed a woman in a cottage south of here but only got ten dollars.”

Arthur saw red.

It took both Jim and Sheriff Walton to drag Arthur off the two robbers, but not before their faces were bloodied and noses broken.  Jim forced Arthur onto a bench outside and shoved more whiskey down his throat.  “I’ll keep an eye on him, sheriff,” Jim said as Arthur’s hands began to shake, grabbing a rag to wipe the blood off his knuckles.  “You’ve got to let the law do their job.”

“I should have been there,” Arthur said.  “I could’ve taken those two.  She didn’t have to die.”

“Or you’d be dead and your boy would be an orphan.  Or worse.”

“Even if I was, maybe I could have given her time to get away.” 

“You don’t know what would have happened,” Jim insisted.  “None of this is your fault.”

“How am I supposed to tell Isaac?”

That gave Jim a pause, and he looked to the floor.  “Just keep it simple and honest.  Mabel and I will be there to help you.  And you can stay with us as long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

“Least I can do.  Come on, let’s get back home.”

This time, Arthur didn’t feel numb.  His thoughts raced, trying to figure out how to explain what happened to his son.  Did Isaac even understand death yet?  Arthur couldn’t remember exactly when he learned about the concept, but when his own mother had passed away from illness and his daddy yelled at him that she was dead, he had known what that meant.  He’d been about Isaac’s age, maybe a little older.

They were outside Jim’s house, now.  Arthur slid his gambler hat off his head as he entered.

“Pa!” Isaac shouted, immediately running to him and throwing his tiny arms around his leg.  “Where’s Mama?”

Arthur picked Isaac up and hugged him, then set him down on a chair.  “Let’s talk,” he began, kneeling in front of the boy.  “Do you- while we- shit, I don’t know how to say this.”

Jim and Mabel nodded at him from the corner, offering quiet reassurance.

“While we were out, some men came to the house and they- they hurt your ma.  Real bad.  And when folk get hurt bad like that, they die.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighed.  “It means your mama is gone, and she can’t come back.”

“Why not?” Isaac asked, with a slight hitch in his voice.

“Uh…” Arthur looked up at Jim, who quickly jumped in.

“Isaac, you know how you can feel your breathing?  And you heart beating?” Jim said.

“Yeah.”  His eyes were brimming with tears.

“Well, when people die, that all stops.  Your body doesn’t work no more, so you have to leave it behind.  Your ma can’t come back.”

“But she loved you, Isaac,” Arthur said.  “She didn’t want to go, I promise you.”

Isaac began to cry as the message sank in.  He leapt into Arthur’s arms and buried his head into his neck as he sobbed.  Arthur wrapped his arms around his boy and let the tears that had been building all evening fall, too.

The morning of Eliza’s funeral, Arthur slipped out of bed early.  He hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past few days, between comforting Isaac and his own worries.  But for the moment, Isaac was fast asleep curled around his favorite toy, a stuffed bear that was well-loved and worn.

“How are you holding up?” Mabel asked, passing the cup of coffee she just poured to Arthur before grabbing another for herself.

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur said.  Mabel shot him a pointed look.  “Okay, it’s been hard.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Isaac,” she said, joining him at the table.  “Now, I know you and Eliza weren’t married, but Eliza always said that you two had a good understanding.  And I know you travel a lot with that oil company.  I guess I’m trying to ask what your plan is?”

Arthur stared at the bedroom door.  “I have no idea.  I want take care of him, but…”

But he didn’t know how.

Arthur had no idea how to raise a child correctly.  His father hadn’t either.  Or maybe his father just didn’t care, drinking himself into a stupor on a good night and beating Arthur on a bad one.  

Arthur picked at the rope around his hat.  He’d picked that hat up off the ground while his father still hung from the gallows.  He was finally free of Lyle Morgan, but he knew the shadow of his father would follow him for the rest of his life.  He donned the hat as a reminder to never be like his father, but for the three years after it felt like he was going to die on the end of a rope, too.

But then he met Dutch and Hosea, and for the first time in a long time, someone actually gave a damn about him.  They taught him to read and ride and shoot a gun.  They taught John, too.

“I just wanted to say,” Mabel began gently, “that if you need help, Jim and I would be happy to take the boy.  I know Eliza’s uncle lives up in Omaha now, but to be honest, I don’t even know if he’ll show up today.”

His immediate thought was to protest.  Isaac was his son.  He turned, ready to tell her no, but then he stopped, mouth hanging open.  He couldn’t be angry at her for asking.  As far as she knew, his work lead him all over the country.  And she wasn’t wrong!  Could he really bring a four-year-old into the uncertainty of an outlaw camp, constantly in danger and running from the law?  Would that be fair to Isaac, dragging him out of the life he knew?

“I’ll think about it,” he told her.  “Thank you.  For everything, and for letting us bury her here.”

Eliza had never been very religious, and it felt wrong to bury her at the church.  But he didn’t want her to be buried alone.  So when Jim offered for Eliza to be with his family on their homestead, he immediately accepted.

“Pa?” the sleepy voice came from the door.  Isaac wandered in, still holding his bear.

“Hey, Isaac,” he said.  “We’re going to say goodbye to your ma today, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, crawling onto Arthur’s lap.

“You want some breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

They ate breakfast in silence.

After, Arthur got Isaac dressed into some nicer clothes and they went out back.  The cross was simple, with Eliza Taylor carved neatly into the wood.  The pastor only said a few words, read a few scriptures, and then asked if anyone wanted to speak.  A few friends did, but Arthur only paid attention to Isaac.  And he couldn’t help but notice the glare one of the older men kept sending him.

He didn’t have to wait too long to find out who it was after the coffin was lowered and the small crowd began to disperse.

“You’re Morgan,” the man said.

“Who are you?”

“Howard.  Eliza’s uncle,” he spat.  “So I guess I’ll have to take the boy, huh?”

“Excuse me?” Arthur said.

“The boy.  It’s not like you’ll be taking care of him.”

“What are you saying?” Arthur growled.  He felt Isaac hug his leg and duck behind him.

“It’s not like you did shit before.  Just showed up a few times.  You can’t exactly take him with you when you’re… prospecting.  Of course, I expect you to provide for his care.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Howard, and the pieces started to come together.  Howard’s  disheveled appearance, the faint smell of booze.  Mabel’s belief that the uncle wouldn’t even come to the funeral.  And Isaac’s evident fear now.  “And how exactly did you take care of them?  I helped buy the house, I kept them fed.  Eliza never even mentioned you.”

“Maybe if you stuck around, she wouldn’t have been killed.”

Arthur shifted to cover Isaac more.  “You ain’t taking my son.”

“You think anyone will let you take him if they know who you really are?”

“Back off, Howard,” Jim said, getting between them.  “He’s Isaac’s father.”

“Are you really that stupid that you don’t know-”

“I don’t care to know.  He’s a better man that you.  Now I’ve told you this before.  I never want to see you around here again!”

Jim and a few of the other attendees chased Howard away from the funeral, but Arthur stayed by Isaac.  “Is he gone?” his son asked.

“Yeah, he’s gone.  You okay?”

“Yeah.  I don’t like Uncle Howard.”

“You know what?  I don’t like him, either.  How about we head back inside?”

“Okay,” Isaac said.  Arthur lifted him up, letting the boy snuggle against him as he was carried into the house.  “Pa?”

“Yeah?”

“Do I have to live with Uncle Howard?”

“No!” Arthur said quickly.  “No, you’re going to live with me.”  He said it without thinking, but he didn’t regret it.  Really, there was no other option.  Sure, Mabel had offered to take him, but he couldn’t leave Isaac behind.  Not now.

Mabel understood when Arthur told her.  She also understood when he said he wanted to leave the next day.  There was only one thing she wanted to ask.

“Are there people who can help you?”

“Yeah, there’s folk who can watch Isaac when I’m working a job.”

“No, I mean, are there people who can help you raise him?”

He thought about Hosea and Bessie, Dutch and his girlfriend Annabelle, and of course Susan, who basically kept their camp together.  “Yeah.  I’ve got family that will help me.”

“Good,” she said.

Arthur decided to leave early in the morning.  Between travel and the funeral planning, he had already been away longer than he planned and he needed to meet up with the gang in Colorado.  Mabel encouraged Arthur to write, and he promised that he would.  And then they were off to the train station in Omaha on Boadicea with the Suffolk Punch carrying Isaac’s extra luggage.

“You’ve never been on a train before, have you?” Arthur said to Isaac while they sat waiting on the bench.

“No.”  Isaac stared at the floor, fingers picking at the edge of his sleeve.

“We’re going to be alright, Isaac.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Arthur said.  He pulled off his hat and tried to rub some of the tension out from behind his eyes.  The next few days, weeks, months even were going to be rough.

But no matter what happened, he would do right by that boy.

Chapter Text

"Arthur better be in town today," Dutch said as he tacked up Nero.

Hosea turned to his own horse to hide the eye roll. Dutch's constant fretting was going to turn the rest of his hair gray. "You know he went to the other side of Nebraska, right?"

"So?"

"So, it's going to take some time for him to get over here. Relax! If he's not at the hotel, we can check out that bank again."

"Fine!" Dutch mounted his black Andalusian while Hosea finished tacking up Silver Dollar. "How's that new horse treating you?"

On their way to Colorado, the gang passed a horse farm specializing in Turkomans. Hosea had been looking for a new mount as his Tennessee Walker was getting rather old. "He's good. Pretty strong, too."

Once he mounted up, they started down the trail out of camp and towards town. Hosea breathed in deep, enjoying the forest air and the view of the mountains. How he missed the mountains! The last few years, the gang had stuck to the farmlands of the Midwest, which had been fine, but it hadn't reminded him of home like the snow-capped peaks in the distance. Once Arthur was back, he would have to drag him up there to go hunting. John, too, if he could get the teenager to listen to him long enough to actually teach him valuable hunting skills.

Dutch must have caught him staring, because he said, "Just think about it, Hosea. If we make enough money here, we can afford the supplies to get over the Grizzlies. Then, the whole west is open to us! We could go all the way to the Pacific!"

"We do need to replace a few wheels on the wagons first, maybe buy another one," Hosea pointed out. "And we should think about getting John a proper horse. That boy is shooting up like a bean sprout! He's way too tall for a pony now. Speaking of which, he could use a new winter coat, too."

"Didn't you just buy him one last year?"

"Yes, and I swear he grew three more inches. At this rate, he might end up being taller than Arthur."

Dutch laughed, "Oh, I can't wait to hear what Arthur will say about that!"

"I want to see if he notices."

"Oh, he will. Once it happens, John will be bragging about it. What else do you think we'll need?" Dutch asked as they reached the town. "We should start making a list."

"Food, for sure. Horse meal. John's probably not the only one who needs a new coat. And we will need to start before the fall snows begin. Ideally the end of August."

"That soon?" It was already late June.

"Early September at the latest. Otherwise, we might have to go south for the winter, see if we can't get to the Pacific through New Austin and Arizona."

"Well, let's see if we can make some money first," Dutch sighed as they approached the hotel. But his face immediately brightened when he recognized the Thoroughbred hitched outside. "Look who it is!"

"See! I told you not to worry."

After hitching Nero and Silver Dollar next to Boadicea, Dutch and Hosea went into the hotel. "Good morning, sir," Dutch said to the clerk. "We're looking to meet up with our friend. He owns that bay filly out there. Which room is his?"

"Room one," the clerk grunted.

"Thank you," said Dutch, heading down the hall and knocking on the appropriate door.

Hosea heard some shuffling, and then the door swung open. And he was immediately taken aback.

Arthur looked exhausted! Bags had formed under his eyes, his hair hadn't been combed that morning. But that wasn't what caught Hosea's eye the most. That was the young boy peaking out from behind Arthur.

He glanced at Dutch, who was staring at the boy wide-eyed. Dutch didn't even look up when Arthur said, "Hey, Dutch, Hosea. You remember Isaac, right?"

Hosea managed to recover first. "Well of course! Hi, Isaac. I haven't seen you since you were a baby."

"This is Hosea," Arthur said to Isaac, gesturing to him. "And Dutch. They helped raise me."

"Hi," Isaac whispered shyly.

"Nice to meet you, Isaac," Dutch finally managed to say. "Arthur, how come-"

"Why don't we get back to camp?" Hosea jumped in. He had noticed the tear tracks on Isaac's cheeks and immediately suspected what had happened. "I'm sure Arthur would like to see everyone."

"Yeah," Arthur said. "We can, uh, talk then."

"You should help Arthur with his bags," Hosea said to Dutch, hiding his smile at the other man's grumbling. "You'll like our spot, Arthur. Pretty close to a creek. Copper loves it, though that means we have a wet dog more than half the time."

The mention of Arthur's coonhound puppy brought a smile to his face. "I can't wait for you to meet Copper," Arthur said to Isaac. Isaac followed his father's lead out of the hotel, clutching his hand tight.

"Have you ever been camping?" Hosea asked. Isaac shook his head. "It's fun! You get to sleep outdoors and see the stars every night. There's nothing else like it."

Arthur pointed out a Suffolk Punch next to Boadicea and said, "You can put the suitcase on Rory."

"He looks like a decent wagon horse," said Dutch.

"He is." Arthur placed Isaac on Bo and swung up behind him. "I see you got yourself a new horse, Hosea. He a Turkoman?"

"Good eye. He might even be able to outrun Bo!"

Hosea was about to turn and lead the way out when he heard someone shout, "Oy! Mr. Macintosh!"

Two men, probably in their mid-twenties if Hosea had to guess, walked straight up to Dutch. Hosea tensed, his hand instinctively sliding back towards his holster, but the taller one laughed and gave Dutch a light jab to the shoulder. "You think you can just clean up our money and sneak out while we was sleeping?"

Dutch put his hands up in mock surrender. "Now gentlemen, I seem to recall you two pushing to win back your money. I can't help it you drank so much you fell asleep on the cards."

"And who kept passing around the bottle?" the shorter but clearly more muscular man said. Hosea studied their faces and wondered if they were brothers. "I think it's only fair to give us another go at it."

"Certainly! I quite enjoyed talking with you boys," Dutch said, completely relaxed and carefree. He turned to Hosea and said, "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Why Mr. Macintosh," Hosea said with a forced smile, "surely you aren't about to go play poker right now."

"We need supply money, don't we?" Dutch said with a smirk, and strode off to the saloon.

Hosea sighed. Apparently Dutch hadn't spent all his time in town worrying about Arthur. "Shall we?" he said, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. They rode out of town and up to the foothills of the Grizzlies, crossing the little creek and coming out of the trees into a small clearing. "Home, sweet home," Hosea announced.

"Arthur, you're back!" John said, running up to them. Copper was close on his heels and barking, causing Rory to toss his head and sidestep out of the way.

"Hey, John," Arthur said back, stifling a yawn. He got off Bo and knelt down to greet Copper. The dog immediately flipped over for a belly rub as Annabelle, Bessie, and Susan all emerged from the camp.

"It's about time, Mr. Morgan," said Susan Grimshaw. "These camp chores don't do themselves, and neither does- oh!"

All the attention in the camp quickly moved to Isaac, still sitting in Bo's saddle with his fingers tight around the pommel. As Arthur stood up to bring Isaac back to the ground, Hosea moved forward to hold back Copper. The excited puppy practically quivered, his tail wagging so hard it was painful as it hit Hosea in the ribs. "Now sit, Copper. SIT! No, stay sitting. Arthur, you need to train this dog better!"

Isaac clung to Arthur, nervously eying Copper. "He's fine, he's just really happy to meet you," Arthur said, and slowly Isaac moved forward, giving Copper a few pats on the head before Copper lurched out of Hosea's grip and began licking Isaac's face. Hosea let a relieved smile slide onto his face when Isaac giggled, wrapping his arms around the dog.

"Everyone, this is Isaac. My son," Arthur said.

"Why, look at you!" Bessie said, moving towards Isaac. "You look so much like your father. I bet you're hungry after all that traveling." Isaac nodded. "It's a little early for lunch, but let's get you a snack." Bessie offered her hand and led him to the table near the fire, Arthur following behind.

"Where's Dutch?" Annabelle asked.

"Poker game," said Hosea. "With some boys he met the other day."

"He got nearly fifteen dollars off of them," she laughed. "Still, he should have come back here. I have a feeling there's a lot to talk about."

"You are right about that," said Hosea. "But you can tell him that later."

"Trust me, he will hear about it," she said before turning and joining the group forming at the table.

Hosea remembered a time when he worried about Annabelle joining their gang. He had just returned from a year of trying to leave the criminal life with Bessie and Dutch had just ended his relationship with Susan. Once he was single, it wasn't uncommon for Dutch to charm a girl over a few drinks and into a bed, but from the moment they met, Annabelle was clearly different.

She grew up in a wealthy household in Chicago where her mother worked as a maid. Annabelle's mother never confirmed who her father was, likely out of fear of being fired. But that didn't stop the rumors from reaching her ears about the white businessman's activities with his black maids, especially given that all the household staff all lived on the property. The others often looked at her with pity and kept Annabelle away from the boss's family as much as possible. Despite this, Annabelle was able to sneak the same books and learning material from her half-siblings' tutoring sessions, and grew into an intelligent and well-read woman. She left as soon as she could, determined to find her own place in life.

Hosea learned all this from Dutch after his first night with Annabelle, and he was surprised that Dutch had spent the entire night talking with Annabelle instead of just fucking her. They met in a hotel lobby in Milwaukee when Dutch commented on the book she was reading, which led to a debate, which led to a discussion, and before either of them knew it the sun was rising once again. Dutch returned to that hotel several times before inviting Annabelle back to the house they were squatting in at the time. To everyone's relief, Annabelle slid into the group like she had always belonged, got along well with Arthur and John. Hosea had worried about what Susan would think, even if she had stayed in the gang after her relationship with Dutch ended, but Annabelle and Susan became fast friends.

Hosea pulled himself from his musings and approached the table. The three women surrounded Isaac, who was starting to brighten up a little at the attention and the chocolate bar Bessie gave him. "You're going to ruin his appetite," Hosea laughed, before turning to Arthur and gesturing to his own tent, "Shall we?"

"Sure. Isaac, I'm going to talk to Hosea just over there. You good staying here?"

"Okay, Pa."

"We've got him, Arthur," Bessie said, though Annabelle joined them. As they walked across camp, Hosea noticed John sticking to the edges, watching Isaac out of the corner of his eye.

"Now son, what happened?" Hosea asked.

"I was out with Isaac, just riding around, you know? Couldn't have been gone for more than a few hours. But some robbers came to the house and they- they-"

Hosea sat down next to Arthur, rubbing his back in slow, smooth motions. He knew Arthur had never been one to seek out physical comfort, not even a hug or a pat on the shoulder, when he clearly needed it. A second passed before Arthur leaned into Hosea and gathered his breath.

"She was dead when I got back. The law caught the two men that did it. I figure they hanged for it, but I didn't stick around. We left right after the funeral."

"How have you and Isaac been doing?" Annabelle asked.

"He's been real quiet. Has nightmares, too. He sort of understands what happened, the robbery part of it."

"Give him some time," said Hosea. "His life has been turned upside down. You remember what that's like."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Oh, all the things Dutch and I went through with you and John!"

Arthur mouth twitched towards a smile. "John was a little shit. You know he bit me when I was holding him down so Susan could cut his hair?"

Annabelle sat down on Arthur's other side and said, "We're going to help you, Arthur. All of us. Though if Isaac turns out to be a biter too…"

"He's not, I promise," Arthur said with a chuckle.

Susan called out to them for lunch. Giving Arthur one last pat on the back, Hosea stood up and said, "Let's get some food in you, and then maybe you can take a nap."

"I'll be fine," Arthur said, rubbing his eyes. "Besides, there's chores to do."

"Sure, but it's nothing the rest of us can't handle. You need some sleep."

Hosea didn't immediately walk to the table. Despite the call for food, John was still sticking to the edges of the camp, this time checking out the new horse Arthur had brought back. "Not hungry, John?" he asked.

He only got a grunt in return. John could really take sullen teenager to the next level. "You want to have a chat?" Hosea tried again.

"No."

Hosea tried not to let out an exasperated sigh. "You know you can always come to me if you do." He waited an extra second to see if John would change him mind, then went to join the others.

After lunch, Arthur took Isaac over to his tent so they both could get a little rest, though that almost ended before it began when Isaac didn't have his stuffed bear. Fortunately, the bear was just in Arthur's saddle bag. Once everything was quiet, Hosea told Bessie and Susan what happened to Eliza.

"Oh, those poor boys," Bessie exclaimed.

"How are we going to do this?" Susan asked. "Between jobs, supply runs, and who knows what else, someone always has to be watching him."

"We'll figure it out," Hosea said. "It will be an adjustment, but usually at least one of us is always in camp."

Bessie nodded. "And you know I'll be around camp until the fall." While Bessie supported Hosea's lifestyle, she much preferred wintering at her sister's ranch in Indiana. Usually Hosea joined her for a few weeks before finding the gang again, but he wondered if that would be possible this year with Dutch's plan to cross the Grizzlies. Speaking of which, could they even safely cross the Grizzlies with such a young boy?

He was not looking forward to bringing that up to Dutch. That would have to be a conversation for another day. For now, he just did chores and checked in on Arthur and Isaac occasionally. Isaac was in Arthur's bedroll, and Arthur was awkwardly curled around him along the edges of the cot with only a thin blanket to cover himself. It looked like they needed to add an extra cot to their shopping list.

Dutch didn't stroll back into camp until nearly dinner, flaunting the extra twelve dollars he made at the poker table. "They were interesting fellers, Hosea," he said. "Brothers, and terrible at cards! But oh, how they carried on. We had some good conversations. I must say, I get a good feeling about them. And I know what you're thinking, I didn't just spend all day playing cards and drinking. I got some information on a stagecoach robbery that should make us some decent money. What have you been doing all afternoon?"

"Oh, not much. Just comforting our boy after the mother of his son was murdered. And a bit of laundry."

Dutch had the decency to at least pause and ask, "Murdered? How?"

"A robbery. Over ten damn dollars. While Arthur out with Isaac."

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit is right."

"And there was no one else who could take the boy?"

Of course that would be Dutch's first thought. When Dutch brought a girl or a half-feral twelve-year old back to camp, or suggested partnering up with other outlaws like those awful O'Driscoll brothers, he would hear no complaints. But if anyone else tried that…

Dutch had originally offered to let Eliza and Isaac join the gang when Eliza told Arthur of her pregnancy, though he presented the option to Arthur as his only chance to be part of Isaac's life. He wouldn't hear any word of Arthur leaving the gang, which Hosea secretly supported. Yes, Hosea himself left his wife for a good portion of the year to run with the gang, but he and Bessie were both adults who could discuss their wants and needs. Isaac was a child.

So he simply said, "Arthur is Isaac's father. He should be the one to take care of him."

"And how is Arthur?"

"He's taking it rather hard, I think."

Dutch's hand fell on his shoulder. "We'll get through this, Hosea. We always do."

Hosea nodded along to Dutch's confidence, almost subconsciously. Dutch grinned wide and walked over to John, probably boasting about his poker winnings.

Arthur emerged from his tent just before dinner, looking a little more relaxed. He helped Susan set the table with Isaac trailing behind. Hosea popped open a beer and watched with a slight frown.

"You look deep in thought," Bessie said.

"I am."

"Yeah, me too."

"What are you thinking about, my dear?" Hosea asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"That I might have a few additions for my letter to my sister. You know, she did mention they were thinking of expanding the horse stable."

Hosea nodded. "More horses means they need more hands."

"Exactly."

When they all sat down for dinner, Copper clung to Isaac, nosing his way towards the plate and trying to steal some scraps. They tried to avoid feeding Copper at the table, well everyone except Arthur agreed to that, but no one stopped Isaac from dropping morsels into Copper's waiting mouth. By the end of the meal, drool was dripping onto Isaac's lap, much to Susan's disgust. But Isaac was having a good time, and as Arthur confessed to Hosea later in the evening, it was the happiest the kid had been since they lost Eliza.

But Dutch was clearly avoiding them. He sat in his tent, pouring over his maps. Hosea tried to catch his eye, but the man refused to look up. Hosea just rolled his eyes. Dutch would come around eventually.

At least, he better.

Chapter Text

Arthur spent the first few days after returning to camp being pulled in several directions at once. Dutch was trying to plan the robbery of a stagecoach coming through town, supposedly carrying a very wealthy woman to her relatives’ home in Denver. Then there was Susan insisting upon Arthur making up for his days away from camp by constantly nagging him to feed the horses or do laundry. Not that he minded doing chores, but now he had other priorities, mainly his son who followed him around like a shadow.

“Mr. Morgan!” Speaking of Miss Grimshaw, Arthur managed not to roll his eyes as he turned to greet her. When Susan Grimshaw joined their tiny gang not long after Arthur himself, she had originally been appalled by how they lived. Arthur never thought it was as bad as she proclaimed, but compared to how they lived now, they’d been slobs. Hosea was the only one who ever bothered to clean or organize, but not to Miss Grimshaw’s standards.

“Yes, Miss Grimshaw?”

“I noticed our water barrel is running low. You need to stay on top of these things.”

Arthur sighed. He had just found a little time to sit down. Quickly looking around camp, his eyes fell on John, currently occupied with poking a stick into some mud. “Make John fill it up.”

“Mr. Marston has already chopped firewood and brushed the horses. It’s your turn. Go on now! I’ll watch the boy, come on Isaac,” she said, reaching her hand out.

“No!” Isaac shouted, grabbing the bottom of Arthur’s coat.

“What do you mean, no? None of that, now. Come here.” She reached again, but Isaac twisted away, still keeping his grip on Arthur’s coat.

“No!”

“Mr. Morgan, you need to teach that boy some manners,” Susan chided, but didn’t try to grab Isaac’s hand.

“I’ll figure out what’s wrong. And get the water, don’t worry,” Arthur replied before kneeling down next to Isaac. “Alright, Isaac, what’s going on? Why won’t you go with Susan?”

“I don’t like her. She’s mean.”

Arthur fought hard not to snicker and remember that his son was upset. “Now why do you think she’s mean?”

“She yells all the time.”

“She’s not yelling to be mean, at least I don’t think she is. She yells a lot because she’s spends all her time around fools who don’t listen to her.”

“But Mama says people yell when they’re mad.”

“I suppose they do,” Arthur said. “But Susan can be nice once you get to know her. And I do need to go fill up the water, so will you go with Susan?” Isaac shook his head no. “How about Bessie? She’s in that tent over there.” Isaac nodded. “Go on, now. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He waited until Isaac made it all the way to Hosea and Bessie’s tent without getting distracted. Only then did he go to the creek for water.

Susan was waiting at the water barrel when he returned. “What is wrong with that boy?” she asked.

“Leave him be,” Arthur said. “He’s been through a lot.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to be disrespectful.”

“He’s four.”

“He likes Bessie well enough,” she muttered.

“Are you jealous, Miss Grimshaw?” Arthur asked. She slapped the back of his head and walked away as he laughed.

With Isaac occupied for the moment, Arthur looked around camp for more chores to get Susan off his case. There was a pile of dishes that could be done now that they had water. He started scrubbing, keeping an eye on the tent flap.

“Arthur! There you are!” Dutch waved him over from his own tent. Arthur put the plate down and joined him. “I’m just finalizing plans for this stagecoach. You, me, and Hosea should be enough. Now, it will just be the woman, the driver, and one guard. They are staying in town for one night before heading to Denver, so I was thinking about setting a trap in this wooded area near this turn.” Dutch pointed out a secluded part of the road on the map, the perfect place for an ambush.

“How did you find out about this one? Those two boys at the poker table?”

“The hotel owner. Apparently this woman has certain standards that she wants met, and sent a telegram in advance,” Dutch chuckled. “It only took a few drinks for the owner to start complaining about it.”

“So, how are we playing this?”

“I figure Hosea could step out, spin some yarn, then you and I can come from the side. They won’t have a choice but to hand over their valuables.”

Arthur hummed, looking over the map with his brow furrowed. “If Hosea’s acting, he won’t have his face covered though. He’s been in town a lot.”

“That’s why we are hitting the stagecoach after they leave town.”

“But what if they turn around to get the law? Or send word from the next town.”

“Alright, son, then what do you suggest?” Dutch sat back in his chair.

“I don’t mean to-”

“No, go ahead.”

Arthur breathed deep, wondering what Dutch was doing. Normally whenever Arthur asked questions about a plan, Dutch was quick to reassure him that the idea was flawless and he had thought of every possibility. “We could have Annabelle do the distraction. This is an older lady, right? She might stop for another woman.”

“Not bad,” Dutch said thoughtfully. “Though Anna has never done this type of robbery before.”

“She has gotten good with a pistol, if it comes to that.”

“True, let me think.”

“Think about what?” Hosea said, wandering over to them.

“Arthur had the thought that you’ve been in town too much and are too recognizable for this stagecoach, and he might have a point!” Dutch announced proudly. So that’s what it had been about? A test? “He suggested Anna do it.”

“Ah, a lady in distress?” Hosea said. “Annabelle certainly can play that role. She’d have fun with it.”

“Yes, but she did mention she was looking into something in town. Maybe there’s a better choice,” said Dutch. “What about John?”

“John? Really?” Arthur asked.

“We haven’t brought John in on jobs before,” Hosea reminded him. “He’s only fifteen.”

“We were taking Arthur on jobs when he was fifteen!”

“Yes, to pick pockets at a party or sneak around a house. Never a stagecoach!” Hosea said.

“And John’s been with us for what? Three years now? He’s a damn good shot, getting to be a decent rider, and this robbery is going to be easy. We’re going to bring him along sometime, why not now?”

Whatever complaint Hosea had was immediately ignored when a small, quivering voice behind him said, “Robbery? You’re robbers?”

The fear in Isaac’s words stabbed through Arthur’s heart. He didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to face him, but he had to. Isaac’s eyes darted between the three of them, hoping one of them would correct themselves and set the record straight. But Dutch, in his confident, booming voice, said, “Oh, we are not simple robbers, son. We are outlaws!”

“But you steal?”

“We take from those ingrates who would enslave others and take advantage of this great nation-”

“Dutch, stop! He’s four!” Hosea said, interrupting what would likely be a long speech.

“And? He needs to understand that we are not mere criminals.”

“He’s not going to understand. You need to keep it simple.”

“This is simple!”

“Isaac?” In the seconds that Arthur was distracted, his son disappeared into camp. “Isaac!”

“Bessie?” Hosea called out. “Did you see where he went?”

“No, I’m sorry. I just noticed he followed you out.” She immediately put down her book and began looking between the tents.

“Isaac!” Arthur shouted again, but he couldn’t spot the boy anywhere.

“You just had to say that, Dutch?” Hosea said.

“How was I to know the boy would react like that?”

“His mother was killed by robbers, you fool!”

“Well I didn’t realize he didn’t know who we are!” Dutch shouted back.

“Isaac!” Where could he have gone? If he didn’t find his son… Arthur didn’t know how to finish that thought. They were in the middle of the woods, full of wildlife that could hurt a small child, and near a creek that was cold all year. Would Isaac try to run from camp?

Wait, Copper! Copper loved Isaac and rarely left his side. Where was Copper? The dog was by one of their wagons, pawing at a few crates and boxes blocking the space underneath. Arthur grabbed Hosea’s arm and pointed.

He truly didn’t know what to say to Isaac, so he was glad when Hosea took the lead, walked over to the crates, and knocked. “Can we come in?”

“Go away!”

“How about just your father? Can he come in?”

“Is he a robber?” Isaac asked, voice muffled slightly by the crates between them.

Hosea looked to Arthur. He sighed and said, “We shouldn’t lie to him.”

“Okay,” Arthur said. “It’s like Dutch said. We’re outlaws, but yeah. We rob people, sometimes.”

“Do you hurt people, too?”

Arthur pulled his hat low over his eyes and dropped his head into his hands.

“Not all outlaws are bad, you know. How about I tell you a story about a famous outlaw?” Hosea said. “You ever hear the story of Robin Hood?”

There was some sniffling from behind the crates.

“You see, Robin Hood lived all the way across the sea in the English town of Nottingham a long time ago. And in the town, there was a sheriff who forced the people to pay almost all their money to him in the name of the king. And all the people had to pay, or else the sheriff would arrest them! But after they paid him, well, they didn’t have enough money for food. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Isaac’s crying hitched. “No.”

“No, it was not! And Robin didn’t think so either. Every day, Robin had to go into town and see people struggling to survive when they didn’t have to be. But what could he do? The law said he had to pay! So, Robin became an outlaw! But he didn’t steal from normal folk, just trying to get by. Do you know who he robbed?”

“Who?”

“He robbed the sheriff! There was this big stagecoach that went through town all day, collecting the money, but before it got back to the sheriff, Robin Hood jumped out from behind the trees with a mask on and his bow drawn! He took all the money, went right back to town, and gave it back to the people.”

“Really?” Isaac asked. Arthur couldn’t hear crying anymore. Even though he knew exactly where Hosea was going with this story, having heard it before, he still felt himself drawn in.

“Really!” Hosea continued. “And other folks started to hear about what he was doing and joined him. And though they were all criminals in the eyes of the sheriff, no one else saw them that way. They didn’t rob from normal folk, just trying to make ends meet. See, that’s the difference between a criminal and an outlaw. Criminals, they don’t care about anyone but themselves, and they will rob anyone. But the good outlaws like Robin Hood take from only the rich and evil men. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Your pa and me, and everyone else here, we want to be like Robin Hood. We take from the rich and give to the poor! And we try our best not to hurt no one, either. Especially not folk like your ma.”

“Promise?” asked Isaac.

Hosea looked over at Arthur expectantly. Arthur turned to the crates and said, “I promise, Isaac.”

“And I promise, too. And so does Dutch and Annabelle, Susan and John. And Bessie, well she isn’t an outlaw but she does hang out with us fools,” Hosea said with a laugh.

Isaac was still hiding but no longer crying. “You ready to come out?” Arthur asked.

Hosea added, “If you do, I bet I can tell you some stories about how me, Dutch, and your pa helped a bunch of folk.”

One of the crates shifted, and Isaac crawled out. Copper immediately jumped up and began licking Isaac’s face, much to Isaac’s equal delight and disgust. “C’mere, son,” Arthur said, holding open his arms and letting Isaac onto his lap. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“You really rob and help people?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah. We try to,” said Arthur.

“Ready for that story now?” Hosea asked. Isaac nodded. “Well, it was just last year, actually! We were in a small town where there was a huge orphanage with kids just like you. But the folk that ran the orphanage couldn’t buy food, or clothes, or toys for any of the kids. But in the middle of this town was a huge bank that held the money for the one rich man in town, who never helped out those kids. So me, your pa, and Dutch walked into that bank one day and I started talking with the clerk. Then Dutch told the clerk to put his hands up, because we were going to take all the gold! You know, Isaac, people will defend what is their own, be it money or property, to their dying breath. But no one wants to get hurt protecting someone else’s money! So the clerk immediately gave us what we wanted, and we took that gold and gave away to the orphanage and other poor folks around town.”

“Wow!” Isaac said, gazing at Arthur and Hosea with adoration.

“Feel better now?” Hosea asked.

“Yeah. Can I go play?”

“Of course!”

Isaac took off into camp with Copper chasing him. He went to grab a stick, but Copper jumped forward and snagged it at the last second. “Hey, no fair!” Isaac yelled after him, but one of Copper’s favorite games was keep-away, and he was determined to win.

Arthur smiled while watching them, and pulled out his journal to quickly sketch the scene. He hadn’t had the chance to draw since Eliza’s death, only giving himself the time for a quick portrait of her face and a note on what happened. It was nice to fill the pages with happier memories.

But the scratch of pencil on paper couldn’t block out Hosea’s conversation with Dutch behind the canvas.

“The boy is fine, now,” Hosea said.

“You want to tell me why you wouldn’t let me talk to him?”

“That wasn’t the time for your philosophies or Miller quotes, Dutch. Arthur and John barely understood that material when you had them reading it.”

“You think I can’t explain Miller’s concepts? Or do you not trust me to do so?” Dutch asked coldly.

“Dutch, you know I trust you, but that boy was on the verge of running away. Hell, he did run and hide from us. Thanks for the help looking, by the way.”

“You made it clear you didn’t want my help. How did you fix it, anyway?”

“I told him about Robin Hood.”

Dutch huffed. Arthur glanced back at the tent before hiding a smile behind his book. “Now, shall we discuss this stagecoach?” Dutch asked, meaning Hosea won their small argument.

“You really want to bring John in on this?”

“Why not? You know he’s been asking to be brought in on a real job.”

“But-”

“But nothing! He’s the distraction. That old woman will take one look at a kid in distress and pull over. They might not even think he’s a part of it once we come out and start robbing them!”

“And if they realize he’s part of the ruse? Do you want John to have a bounty on his head already?”

“Again, it’s going to happen one day. Why not now?” Dutch paused for a second, then decided he didn’t want to wait for Hosea’s response. “You know what? Let’s have John decide. Mr. Marston! Why don’t you come over here.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Classic Dutch. Now the only way Hosea could win would be to disappoint John, and deal with the consequences of that.

“Mr. Marston, how would you like to run the distraction for this stagecoach robbery?” Dutch said.

“Really? I can go?” John asked.

“Of course! You’re ready, don’t you agree, Hosea?”

“I suppose,” Hosea conceded with a sigh. “But only the distraction! Keep it clean, I don’t want him to have a murder charge on his head. And I swear, Dutch van der Linde, if anything happens to him-”

“No one is going to get hurt!”

With that, Dutch began filling John in on the plan, and Hosea wandered over to Arthur. “You okay?” Arthur asked.

Hosea ignored him and leaned over his shoulder to look at his drawing, and Arthur knew he didn’t snap the journal shut in time. “That’s rather nice. You going to show him?”

The sketch of Isaac running after Copper, a stick dangling out of his mouth, was rough. Arthur frowned as he considered the hastily corrected line work, the awkward shading. “It’s alright.”

“You know, you should buy Isaac a journal and teach him how to draw. And he can practice his letters. Do you know if Eliza started teaching him to read yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe while you guys are out on your robbery, I can distract him with the alphabet. And I think we still have some old books from teaching you and John.”

“His birthday is coming up in the fall,” Arthur said. A journal wasn’t a bad idea, especially since he was about to make some money. His mother taught him to draw, and while he didn’t think his sketches were as good as Hosea believed, maybe drawing skills did run in the family.

“October tenth, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Turning five, that’s a big deal.”

“I know, I can hardly believe it.”

Hosea let the conversation fade, but still lingered, wringing his hands and staring off into the distance.

“You sure you’re okay, Hosea?” Arthur asked again.

“Just… take care of John, alright?”

“Of course, Hosea. You know I will.”

“And you know,” Hosea began, hesitating, “you don’t have to do this robbery.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that every job is a risk, and your son just lost his mother. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to make sure he keeps his father. I can take your place. As long as I’m not running the distraction, I can be masked up.”

Arthur had to admit that Hosea had a point. But what else was he supposed to do? This was the life he lived, and his family needed money to make it across the mountains. “It seems like a pretty safe, easy job. I’m sure it will be fine,” he said.

“I know. But please, take care of yourself, too.”

“I will.”

Finally satisfied, Hosea patted Arthur on the shoulder and returned to Bessie. But it had Arthur thinking. If something happened to him, what would happen to Isaac?

Chapter Text

Dutch read the same paragraph for the fourth time before giving up for the evening.  Normally he could lose himself in Evelyn Miller for hours, but worries raced through his mind too fast to fully comprehend.  He closed the book with a long sigh.

Annabelle chuckled and said, “Finally tired of Miller, are you?”

“You know I will never be finished with Mr. Miller.  The way he writes… he’s wonderful!” he said to Annabelle.  Dutch ignored the laugh and shake of her head.  He could never get Annabelle to appreciate Miller like he did.  “I just can’t seem to concentrate tonight.  We are robbing that stagecoach tomorrow, and I’m just hoping Arthur’s head will be in the right place.”

“I thought he helped with the planning?”

“Yes, and then he ran off soon after.”

“Do you blame him?” Annabelle asked.  “You don’t expect Arthur to prioritize a stagecoach over his son, do you?  I sure don’t.”

“I understand that, but I need him to focus.  If something goes wrong tomorrow because he missed some detail, the whole thing could be ruined.”

Annabelle closed her own book.  “Arthur knows Bessie and Hosea will be watching Isaac.  He’ll be focused in the moment.  Trust him, Dutch.”

“I do trust him!  I just… worry.  Arthur has so much potential.  And we need him if we are going to keep living free!”  Annabelle let out a huff, so Dutch turned and said, “What?”

“Nothing.  You need to rest, we can discuss this later.”

“Now you’ve got me curious.”

“We shouldn’t fight tonight.”

“We’re not fighting!”

“We’re about to be,” Annabelle grumbled.  But Dutch kept staring at her, eyebrows raised.  “Fine.  You say that our freedom hinges on Arthur working jobs-”

“I wouldn’t say it hinges on it.”

“But what is freedom?”

“Are you testing me?” Dutch asked, his voice rising.  They had many a debate about the topic in the past.  “To be free is to live without being crushed under the oppressors of society, without being controlled by the ideas of others, free from ideas of ownership and wealth.  You know, Miller says that Americans end up choosing to be controlled when they deny their own kingship, and all I’ve ever wanted is for Arthur to-”

“But it seems to me like you’re saying that Arthur can either choose to be controlled by Isaac or you, is that it?” she said in a serious tone.

“He- I- this-” Dutch stuttered.  “That’s not what I’m saying!  You just hate Miller.”

“I don’t hate Miller.  He has good ideas.  But he’s also an academic teaching at a fancy East Coast university.  And he’s always struck me as a man without obligations.”

“So?”

“Arthur has new obligations now, and that’s going to change things for him,” Annabelle said.

“And what?  He should just forget his potential?” Dutch asked.  He couldn’t imagine Arthur being anything other than the perfect outlaw he was, the perfect outlaw he raised him to be.

“Arthur has many potentials.  So does everyone.  I don’t believe we have one, singular purpose in life.  He gets to decide which one to pursue.”

“What are you saying?  That Arthur can’t be an outlaw if he raises a child?” Dutch asked.

“Not necessarily.”

“Hosea and I took in Arthur, we took in John, and did that change our plans?  No!”

“No, but I’m sure you made adjustments.  But Arthur and John were much older.  What worked for them might not be best for Isaac.”

“It could be.”  It should be.

She sighed and turned her head away.  “Let’s finish this later.  It’s late, you need sleep.”

“Fine,” he said.

She was right, they shouldn’t have argued.  He lay awake for several hours, thinking about obligations, and kings.

“You alright, Dutch?” Arthur asked as they waited on the coach the next morning.  “You look tired.”

“Me?  I’m fine,” Dutch said, though the yawn that followed probably did little to convince Arthur otherwise.  “How are you?”

“Just dandy.  Hoping John does alright with his acting.”  

Just on the road was John, dressed in one of Arthur’s old, torn coats and covered in dust.  His job was to flag down the coach, complain about having been thrown from his horse, and ask for the directions to the nearest town.  Once Dutch and Arthur appeared, he was to scurry away as if frightened to where his Morgan, Daisy, was hitched and waiting.  If luck was with them, the woman and her driver would never suspect that John had been part of the robbery.

“John will do fine.  I must say, it is nice to be out just the two of us, well three of us, I suppose.  We haven’t had much chance to talk, you and I.”

“Yeah.  I’m glad to be out of camp for a bit.  I’ve been missing it.”

“You were meant for this, Arthur.  Riding on the open range, working jobs with me and John.”

“You know, I can’t wait until I can teach Isaac how to ride.  He’s a little small for now.”

“Yes, he does need to be able to reach the stirrups,” Dutch laughed.  “But kids do grow fast.  You won’t have to wait long.”  Annabelle was wrong, clearly.  Arthur could handle being an outlaw and a father at the same time.  He wanted to be out here.

“I hope Isaac’s doing alright, though.  This is the first time I haven’t been around since, you know,” Arthur said, eyes staring distantly into the woods.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine!” Dutch quickly replied.  “He has Hosea and Bessie looking out for him.”

“He does like Bessie.  I think she reminds him of his old neighbor,” Arthur said.

They drifted back into silence.  Satisfied with Arthur for the moment, Dutch turned his attention to John.  The bored kid was kicking rocks in the road.  Dutch had warned both John and Arthur that the stagecoach could be late, considering it wouldn’t take all day to get to Denver and the target sounded like the kind of woman who would take her time making sure her appearance was perfect before departing.  Hosea had scoped out the coach and the woman the night before, reporting back the sheer size of her fancy hat and the expensive bracelet on her wrist.  Dutch was hoping for cash, pure and simple.  Finding a reliable fence for jewelry was hard enough, especially one that paid the stolen items’ true value.

Straining his ears, Dutch picked up the faint hoof beats and rolling carriage wheels.  “Here we go,” he said, pulling his checkered bandanna over his face and waving at John.  John waved back, then began wandering in the direction of the coach with an awkward, exaggerated limp.

“Excuse me?  Can you help me?” John called.  “My horse tossed me and I got lost!”

The coach slowed, and a high-pitched voiced from inside shouted, “What’s going on out there?”

“Just a boy asking for directions, ma’am,” the driver said.  “Where are you trying to get to, kid?”

John did not manage to keep a look of disgust off his face at being referred to as a kid.  That was John’s latest thing he complained about.  Dutch supposed that now he was coming on jobs, he couldn’t call him a kid much longer.

“I live in Fort Collins, sir.”

“You hurt your leg?” the driver asked.

“We really must keep moving, sir,” the woman insisted.  Funny, he had assumed that the woman would want to help John, not the driver.  Oh well, it was working.  Dutch signaled to Arthur and moved forward.

“Why look what we have here, Mr. M!” Dutch said as they rode out.  Dutch moved towards the passenger door, gun pointed at the guard, and Arthur placed himself in front of the driver.  “Fort Collins is back that way, kid, and I suggest you move quickly.”  John scampered off down the road and out of sight, just they planned.  “Since we are all stopped here, I think it would be best of you dropped your guns and handed over your valuables.”

“Are you just going to let them rob us?” the woman said.  “Do something!”

“I wouldn’t do that, sir,” Dutch said to the guard, whose hand was shifting towards his holster.  Hosea wanted him to keep it clean, so Dutch breathed slow and steady.  As the gun left the guard’s holster, Dutch shifted his aim, shooting the gun right out of his hand.

“Shit!” the guard said, clutching at his fingers.

“Now then, let’s stop this drama!  Come on out and hand over your valuables, ma’am.  Cash, jewels, everything you’ve got!  And my associate will need that box on the back unlocked.”

The stagecoach door opened slowly, and the woman exited hat first.  Dutch was glad his smirk was hidden behind the bandanna, and he figured Arthur had one on his face too based on his widening, jovial eyes.  “Fine,” she said.  “That’s what you barbarians do, isn’t it?  Take everything from others!”

“Oh, I doubt we are setting you too far back, considering the millinery,” Dutch laughed as he took the cash and bracelet from outstretched hand.  Arthur quickly ruffled through the items in the back, pocketing the money and leaving the food and other supplies.  They never took the necessary items for travel.  They weren’t cruel.  Dutch had instilled that in both his boys from the start.  “Now then, I must thank you for being cooperative.  You may be on your way.”

The woman scoffed as she reentered the coach.  Dutch smiled again, waiting for Arthur to mount back up so they could find John and get out of there, but suddenly he heard the sound of approaching horses.  He turned to warn Arthur, noting that he was already aware of it, but it was too late!  Three horses rounded the bend, and Dutch narrowed his eyes at them.  Those green neckerchiefs looked familiar.

“Look what we got here, boys!  A stopped stagecoach and Dutch van der Linde!”  And Dutch realized who it was.  Connor O’Driscoll.

A long time ago, when Hosea abandoned them for a year to try a domestic life with Bessie, Dutch met Connor O’Driscoll and his older brother, Colm.  They ran several jobs together, occasionally with Arthur, too.  It was mutually beneficial, but Dutch and the O’Driscolls, Colm especially, didn’t quite see eye-to-eye.

As Colm grew his gang, gathering many Irish immigrants that had become disillusioned with the American dream that they and often their parents had been seeking, his ruthless nature extended beyond his treatment of his victims.  Colm viewed his men as expendable numbers, dressing them all in a uniform of green and black.  They weren’t a family, like Dutch had created.  His organization reminded Dutch too much of the large factories run by rich men.  Everyone was the same and replaceable, and Dutch was sure that Colm knew few of his followers’ names.  They parted ways with an uneasy truce, and really they hadn’t run into either O’Driscoll brother in a long time.

“Looks like you could use some help,” Connor continued.

“No need, gentlemen,” Dutch said carefully.

“But your witnesses are still alive,” Connor laughed, drawing his pistol and firing into the driver’s chest before Dutch could say a word.  The woman in the coach screamed.

“Why did you do that?” Dutch shouted.  “That was unnecessary!”

“They knew your name.  I think I just did you a favor, Dutch,” Connor said.

Dutch stopped the retort that Connor was the reason for his identity reveal from leaving his mouth, instead asserting, “I had this under control.”

“Seeing as I’m helping you out, I’d say I should get a cut of this take.  Seems fair to me,” Connor sneered.  He dismounted and moved towards the guard and Arthur.

“Again, you’re not needed here.  In fact, you are doing the opposite of helping,” said Dutch.  He met Arthur’s eyes in a quick glance.  Arthur’s revolver sat in his hand, not pointed at anyone yet.  He was waiting for Dutch to make the first move.

But Connor noticed Arthur’s ready posture.  “Put that gun away, boy,” Connor said.  “The adults are talking.”

“Ah, the adults, is it?” Dutch said, sneaking a nod to Arthur to do as Connor said.  “And here I thought you didn’t do anything without Colm’s permission.”

He planned to redirect Connor attention to himself and give Arthur a chance to slip back to his horse.  He could tell back when they worked together that Colm exercised immense control over all his gang members, including his younger brother.  But Connor kept his eyes on Arthur while he spoke, pistol threateningly close to being pointed at his chest.  “You know, I never understood why Colm kept you around.  That was a mistake on his part.  Perhaps I wasn’t clear about my generous offer.  Give me half the take, or I leave here with all of it.”

The threat was clear, their choices limited.  Dutch’s mind turned with his options, the words he could craft into a persuasive speech, the speed in which he could draw his guns.  He didn’t want to give up any of their money.  Arthur glanced between Dutch and Connor, waiting for direction, when Connor’s attention shifted.  “Looks like someone’s spying on us!” he laughed with glee.  Dutch’s eyes widened as he realized who Connor was talking about.  John was watching them from behind a boulder, unaware of the danger he was in.

Several things happened at once.  Before Dutch could fully draw his revolver, Connor aimed towards John.  Arthur threw himself at Connor, trying to push the gun up and away from John.  The gun fired, and Arthur went down with a shout.  But in the seconds as Connor gathered himself to go after John again, Dutch pulled the trigger.  Connor O’Driscoll died the instant the bullet went through his head.

“Fuck!” one of the O’Driscolls yelled.  Dutch pulled his second Schofield from his holster, setting his sights on both O’Driscoll lackeys, but they had already turned and spurred their horses back down the road.  

“That’s right!  Ride off like the cowards you are!” he called out after them.  Only when they were around the corner did Dutch holster his guns and run to Arthur.

“Talk to me, Arthur.  How bad is it?” Dutch asked, leaning over his son.  Arthur  clutched at his left arm, and there was blood all over his front!  But close examination revealed that the bullet had just grazed him.  The rest of the blood had to be from Connor, whose body had collapsed next to him.

“I’ll be fine, Dutch.  Just give me a second,” Arthur groaned, breathing harshly through the pain.

“Of course you are,” Dutch said.  He heard the coach turn and head back towards town, and knew they didn’t have long before the law was alerted or the O’Driscolls decided to return.  “You alright, John?” he called out.

“I’m okay.  Is Arthur okay?” John asked.

“He will be.  Head back to camp, son, but keep off the road and avoid the law!  We’ll be right behind you.”

As John took off into the woods, Arthur said, “Why’d that fool come back here anyway?”

“He must have heard the shot, he was probably worried about us.  Now, let’s just wrap this quick and get out of here.  Hosea can patch this up properly later.”

Arthur let out a dry chuckle.  “Hosea is gonna kill us.”

“He’ll lecture us to death for sure,” Dutch said, tightening Arthur’s bandanna around the wound.  “If you’re lucky, he’ll wait until after he’s bandaged this up.”  Dutch grabbed Arthur’s other arm and hauled him to his feet.

He started to steer Arthur towards his own horse, but Arthur protested, “I can ride by myself, Dutch!”

“I’m sure you can,” Dutch said.  He reluctantly let Arthur go to Boadicea, cringing a little at Arthur’s wince as he pulled himself into the saddle.

Hosea was going to kill him.  He would blame Dutch for putting John in a dangerous situation, but how was Dutch to know that the O’Driscolls were in the area?  Or that Connor O’Driscoll would choose today of all days to grow a backbone?  It wasn’t his fault!

They moved quickly but carefully back to camp, though Arthur pulled off to the side near the creek and got down off Boadicea.  “I’m going to get some of this blood off.”

“Arthur, that water is freezing!”

“It’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t get that wound wet.”

“I’ll watch it, okay?”

“Arthur-”

“I don’t want Isaac to see me like this!”

Dutch wanted to protest more, wanted to get back to camp as fast as possible, but he had to concede that the blood covering Arthur’s clothing was a ghastly sight.  No need to scare anyone more than necessary.

Arthur washed much of the blood off as fast as possible, but he was shivering when he got out of the creek.  “Come on, they’re probably worried,” he said through chattering teeth, almost as if he was encouraging himself.  At least it was still early in the day, and the sun was warm despite the cool breeze off the mountains.

That didn’t stop Hosea’s wrath when they rode back to camp.

“It’s about time!  Do you have any idea how worried I was when John got back and said Arthur got shot!  And why is he soaked?”

“It’s just a scratch,” Dutch started to say, but Hosea was already dragging Arthur to his tent.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes and warmed up,” Hosea was saying as a helped peel the wet jacket off Arthur’s shoulders.

“Ow!” Arthur hissed as his shirt fabric moved past the wound.

“You’re fine, son,” Dutch said.

“Let’s just clean this and wrap it.  You got off lucky.”  Hosea placed a blanket over Arthur’s shoulders.  “Miss Grimshaw?  Do we have any  of that soup hot and ready?  Arthur could use something to warm up.”

“It should be ready in a minute,” Miss Grimshaw said from outside the tent.

“Hey, take all your wet clothes off,” Hosea said, pointing at his jeans.

“Seriously?” Arthur said.

“Seriously.  I won’t have you getting sick.  Here’s another blanket, if you are worried about your modesty.”

Arthur grumbled but did as he was told.

Hosea upended a bottle of alcohol onto a rag and dabbed at the wound, ignoring how Arthur’s fingers dug into the cot.  “I thought I told you to take care of yourself,” Hosea said.

“You also told me to take care of John,” Arthur groaned.  “I was looking out for him.”

“That’s true.  Fine, you’re off the hook for this one.”

“Where’s Isaac?” Arthur asked suddenly.

“Bessie and Anna are keeping him occupied, but he’s going to need to see you.  He knows something happened.  John made it seem worse than it actually is.”

“I had a lot of blood on me, someone else’s.  Figured I should wash up before Isaac saw.”

“Probably for the best.”  Hosea finished cleaning and quickly bandaged the wound.  “There, done!”  He tossed a fresh union suit at Arthur and gave him some privacy.

But as soon as the tent flapped was lowered back down, Hosea turned on Dutch with the ferocity of a grizzly bear.  “I could strangle you, Dutch van der Linde!  What happened out there?” he demanded.

Dutch could feel the beginnings of a major headache forming.  “We stopped the coach just fine.  Then Connor O’Driscoll showed up.”

“What?”

Dutch told the whole story, Hosea pacing back and forth, the rant building with each of Dutch’s words.  “It happened fast, Hosea.  Too fast.”

“I thought you and Colm agreed to stay out of each other’s way?”

“Apparently Connor disagreed,” Dutch huffed.

“We need to get out of here.  Move to another town.”

“Why?  We’re not ready to cross the Grizzlies yet.”

“Because Colm is going to want revenge, you fool!”

“Hosea, we’ll be fine!” Dutch insisted.  “They may know we’re in the area, but who knows how far away they are.  It was just Connor and two other men on the trail, I don’t even think they were looking to rob that stagecoach.  We aren’t ready to move right now.  We made some good money, so let’s focus on getting supplies.”

“I’m just nervous, that’s all,” Hosea said.  “I never liked those O’Driscoll brothers, but Colm’s not an idiot!  We need to be careful.”

“I didn’t have a choice, Hosea.  He drew on John.”

“I know,” Hosea said with a sigh.  “I know.  Remind me to teach that boy how to hide better if he’s not going to do as he’s told.”

“I don’t blame him for coming back,” Dutch insisted.  While foolish, it had demonstrated the bravery and loyalty he always knew John was capable of.  “For all he knew, one of us had been killed.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dutch saw the tent flap move as Arthur tried to sneak out.  Hosea saw it, too.  “Nope, back in bed and under that blanket!  You are not leaving until you warm up.”

“Sun’s warm enough.  Can’t I sit by the fire?”

“Fine, but with the blanket.”

“Fine,” Arthur relented.  “Is Isaac around?”

Before Dutch could even look around, he heard the boy shout out, “Pa!” and run straight up to Arthur, throwing his arms around his legs.  “John said you got hurt and I was so scared,” he sobbed.

“Hey now, it’s okay, I’m okay,” Arthur tried to say.

“You said no one would get hurt and you got hurt!”

“It’s just a scratch.  Accidents happen.”

The crying didn’t stop, if anything it got louder.  Arthur’s worried eyes glanced between Hosea, Bessie and Annabelle when Isaac said, “You can’t die, too.”

“Hey, Isaac, look at me.  Please?  Just look at me,” Arthur tried, pulling off his hat so Isaac could see his full face and cupping his hands around his cheeks.  “I’m just fine, see?”

“Please don’t go!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Arthur said firmly, as a promise.

Bessie cleared her throat and said, “How about you two go sit by the fire?  You can tell your father all about your reading lesson, Isaac.  That was fun wasn’t it?”

“You’re reading now?” Arthur asked.  “Already?”

“Uncle Hosea told me all the letters,” Isaac said, still sniffling.  But Bessie’s distraction was starting to work.

“Oh, he’s Uncle Hosea now?”

Dutch stayed back as the three of them went towards the fire, watching them fuss over Isaac.  So much for things going back to normal.  He noticed John sticking to the edge of camp again and asked, “You alright, John?”

“I guess,” John said.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to mess things up!  I just thought you might have been in trouble and-”

“Oh, I’m not mad, son.  You did good with the distraction, and I’ll never blame you for caring about your family.”

John’s face brightened a fraction, then dropped back to a frown.  “Is Arthur mad at me?”

“Oh, I doubt it.  He knows why you came back, and it was just a scratch.  Everything will be fine!”

Really, it was fine.  They got nearly five hundred dollars in cash from the stagecoach, plus a few items to fence.  They would be ready to cross the Grizzlies soon, he could feel it.  The plan was still on track.

Chapter Text

John tried to avoid staring at Isaac and Arthur all day, but still he felt his eyes gravitating towards them.  More often than not, his brother was surrounded by Hosea and Bessie and Annabelle and sometimes Susan, though not so much after he had heard Isaac call Susan mean.  He forced himself to hide his laughter behind coughs after that one.

He wasn’t jealous.  That would be stupid.  Of course little kids needed attention.  John remembered that from his short stay at the orphanage after his father got himself killed.  The kids needed all their food made for them, the nuns would tie their shoes and help them with their clothes.  But John was considered to be one of the older kids.  If John needed help with anything, he was ignored or told to figure it out.  If he complained, he would be hit, then screamed at as a reminder not to be jealous.

He was almost an adult now.  He went on his first job with Dutch a week ago.  It was stupid to be jealous.

He couldn’t help it.

“Susan!  Guess what I found!” Annabelle called out as she returned from town atop her dappled gray Arabian, Leo.  Dutch stole the gorgeous horse for her quite early in their courtship, when Annabelle became an official member of the gang.  His full name was Leonardo, after a painter that Annabelle read about once, but Annabelle usually just called him Leo.

John tried not to be happy about how Annabelle didn’t go straight to Isaac and Arthur like she normally did.

“What is it?” Susan asked.

Annabelle laughed and put on what she referred to as the high society voice, straightening her back and putting her chin up.  “Well, I happened to be in the restaurant near all those fancy houses when I overheard Mrs. Cunningham telling her friends about her luncheon tomorrow afternoon, and how it will rival those parties they have in New York City.  And of course I had to mention how my husband and I had just moved here from New York.”

“Oh, of course!”

“Yes, so I introduced myself.  And I could tell they were trying to send me away, even with the enticement of having an actual New Yorker at their party.  Mrs. Cunningham tried to gently let me know that they’ve never had a colored girl attend before.  So I said, ‘No one ever seemed to mind at a New York party!’”

“Do they?  In New York?” Susan asked, genuinely curious.

“Who knows, I’ve never been!  But Mrs. Cunningham bought it.  Though then she said something like, ‘But this is a women’s only party, so you can’t bring your husband, and you don’t want to attend this party without a friend, do you?  That would be rather lonely.’  Good thing I mentioned my dear friend, Susan!”

Susan took Annabelle by the arm, leading her back to her tent.  “I guess we have to see what clothes we’ve got.  We might need to go shopping.”

“Seems a good excuse as any to wash my hair and change it up a bit.”

“What are you ladies up to?” Dutch asked, having heard their giggling.

“We have an invitation to a fancy party just ripe for a bit of pickpocketing and information,” Annabelle said.

“But we may need some money for dresses,” Susan added.

“And you might get to see me with my hair down.  And if some jewels happen to end up there, well, that’s not my problem!  But don’t worry, I’ll be careful with it.  I remember how easily small pieces can get stuck!”

John knew the incident she was referring to well.  Annabelle’s black hair was made up of numerous small, tight curls that had an uncanny ability to lock items in place, and Annabelle was known to leave pencils tucked behind her ears for safe keeping.  A twelve-year old John thought it would be a fun prank to put things in her hair, and it was until he selected a fork as the next item.  It was Susan’s job to untangle the fork and separate the hair from it, and though the women had a good laugh about it afterward, John earned the scolding of a lifetime from Susan.  Annabelle was far more gentle, taking John to the side and letting him know why it wasn’t okay.  It endeared her to John, and Susan took the brunt of the future pranks.

Lately, Annabelle simply guided the curls into larger twists and then back into a bun.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you find,” Dutch said.  “And your outfit.”

“And what is your plan for the day?” Annabelle asked.

To John’s surprise, Dutch waved him over.  “Hosea and I were thinking that it’s about time you got a proper horse.”

“Really?” John asked.

“Sure!  You’re getting rather tall.  And we made a good bit of money last week.  What better way to celebrate your first job!”

“But what about Daisy?” he asked.

“I’m sure the stable can find her a good home.”

“Actually,” Hosea said, “I was thinking that Daisy might be a good pony for Isaac.  One day, of course.  But she’s not too old and was great for teaching John.”

If John was a little annoyed at Isaac being the center of everyone’s thoughts again, it was overshadowed by the idea of Daisy sticking with their gang.  He did love that pony, but he was excited at the prospect of getting a horse.  “Can we go today?”

“That’s up to Hosea.  He’s the one taking you.”

“Can we?” John asked, turning to Hosea.

“I don’t see why not.  Arthur, want to come with us?  Take a break, get out of camp?  Bessie said she’d watch Isaac.”

The way Hosea looked at Arthur, with a bit of mischief in his eyes, meant that Hosea had some sort of scheme cooking.

“Sure.  Guess someone’s got to make sure John makes a good choice.”

“Hey!”

“He’ll do fine, Arthur,” Hosea said.  “Go on, tack up your horse.”

Arthur went over to Bo, but Hosea followed John.  “What are you planning?” John asked bluntly.

“I just thought Arthur might need a break.  Isaac’s been a little clingy since that stagecoach.”

That was an understatement.  Isaac didn’t leave Arthur’s side, ever.  He heard the kid crying at night, and the whispered attempts from Arthur to keep him calm and quiet.

“And,” Hosea continued, “You two haven’t had much chance to talk since Isaac got here.  It might be good for you.  I have a feeling there’s some stuff you want to say.”

Damn old bastard.

Because there were many things he wanted to say to Arthur, but he wasn’t sure how to say them yet.  And if he dealt with by avoiding Arthur and his kid, that was his business!

“Fine,” John said.

“That’s my boy,” Hosea said, raising his hand slowly and ruffling John’s hair.  John ducked away and went to mount Daisy.

“Pa?  Where are you going?” Isaac asked, running up to Arthur and Bo.

“Just into town with Hosea and John.  You can stay with Bessie.”

“No, don’t leave!” Isaac shouted.

“I’m helping John pick a new horse.  I won’t be gone long,” Arthur tried to say.

“No!” Isaac screamed, grabbing Arthur’s leg.  “No, no, no, no!”

“Isaac, enough of this now, you hear!” Susan said.

“No!”

“Come on, sweetie,” Bessie said, holding out her hand.

“No!  You’re not my ma!”  Isaac said.  “I want my ma.  I want to go home!

“We can’t, Isaac,” Arthur said.

“I want to go home!”

“We can’t!” Arthur shouted.  “This is home now!”

Isaac stepped back from Arthur, eyes wide.  Bessie tried reaching for him, but he ducked away, right into Annabelle.  She lifted him up easily, despite his twisting and struggling.  “Why don’t we have a little chat, Isaac.”

“I want Mama!”

“I know you do.  I know.  But we’re going to have a chat.”  They disappeared into Annabelle’s tent.

Arthur put on his hat, pulling it low over his eyes.

“Shall we?” Hosea said, and turned Silver Dollar down the trail and kicking him forward.  John and Arthur followed behind.

“I shouldn’t have yelled,” Arthur grumbled.

“No, probably not.  But I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Hosea said.  “He can’t stay be your side all day, every day.  A little time apart might be good for both of you.”

“I guess,” Arthur said unconvincingly.

“So John, what kind of horse are you thinking about getting?  This stable has a good variety,” Hosea said.

“Strong, and big,” he said.  John wanted a horse that could keep up over the long distances they often traveled.  Daisy had been struggling a little with his weight coming to Colorado.

“I think there are a few that fit those descriptions,” said Hosea.

The rest of the trip was filled with Hosea giving advice on selecting a horse.  Normally, Arthur would have added his own thoughts.  Arthur absolutely loved horses, and usually took care of their small herd.  But not that day.  He just looked lost.

John felt the same.  Hosea wanted John to talk to Arthur, but John didn’t know what to say.

“Here we are!” Hosea announced when they arrived.  “Now I suggest looking inside the building.  That’s where the best horses are.”

John ran off to the stable, determined to look each horse over before making his decision.  There was a pretty nice Appaloosa, but the stallion didn’t seem to like him very much.  He spent a little while next to the Standardbred, thinking about getting a race horse like Boadicea.  Ultimately, the horse seemed too jumpy, not good for gunfights.

He kept returning to a chestnut Dutch Warmblood.  The gelding snorted and bumped his outstretched hand.

“That one, son?” Hosea asked, coming up behind him.

“Yeah,” John said.

“He looks good,” Arthur said.  “Pretty healthy.”

The stable owner appeared and said, “That’s a good choice.  He’s one hundred dollars.”

John’s shoulders slumped.  He didn’t have one hundred dollars, maybe once they fenced the rest of the items, but not now.  He went to walk away, but Hosea said, “Seventy-five.”

“Ninety-five.”

“Eighty.”

“Ninety, and not a cent less, sir,” the owner said.

“Fine,” Hosea said, “But only if you throw in a new brush and some treats.”

“You have a deal!” the owner said, shaking his hand.  Hosea pulled out the cash.

“You’re buying him for me?” John asked, completely shocked.

“Of course!  We bought Arthur’s first horse for him.”

John remembered the adorable Paint Arthur had when he first joined the gang.  Arthur ended up selling him cheaply to a nice family that lost their horse in an accident after he got Bo.  Technically, Dutch and Hosea hadn’t bought Daisy for him.  Daisy had been stolen from the homestead where… well… Dutch found him.

Hosea helped fill out the horse papers while Arthur quick ran to the general store.  Soon, John’s new horse was saddled up and ready for the ride back to camp.  But Hosea wasn’t done with them just yet.  As they passed the field just before the creek, Hosea pulled up and said, “I think I want to do a little fishing before we get back.  Why don’t you ride around this field with Arthur?  Start bonding with your new horse, maybe talk a bit.”  He sent John a wink.

John just rolled his eyes back.  Of course that was the old man’s plan.

“I should be getting back,” Arthur tried to say, but Hosea shook his head.

“Nonsense!  Spend a little time with John, you two have barely spoken since you got back.”  With that, Hosea got off Silver Dollar with his fishing rod and turned the horse loose into the field.  Silver walked a few feet away with Daisy and started grazing.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly.  “Shall we?”

“Sure.”

They started towards the other end of the field at a trot, easy and casual.  Bo’s long legs always ate up the dirt, but his new horse was keeping stride easily.  After a few minutes, they nudged the horses up to a canter, circling around the field and coming back towards Hosea.

“You think of a name for him?” Arthur asked.

“Not yet.”

“Just pick a good one.”

“Like Boadicea?” John asked sarcastically.  “Seriously, how did you ever come up with that?”

“Hey, Boadicea was a queen!  She fought the Romans!”

“Where’d you even hear about her, anyway?”

“One of Dutch’s books.”

“You actually read that crap?” John laughed.  “I ain’t naming my horse after some lady in a book.”

“I should hope not, you got a boy.”  Pulling Bo back to a walk, Arthur abruptly changed the conversation topic. “So, uh, Hosea thinks we have something to talk about?”

He didn’t want to ask, not only because he didn’t think Arthur would answer, but also because he was afraid of the answer he could receive.  But it was eating at him, had been ever since Arthur showed up with that boy.

“I guess,” he said, looking at the ground.

“Well, what is it?”

He couldn’t stop himself.  He blurted it out, harsh and blunt.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a kid?”

Arthur didn’t answer at first.  In fact, John was drowning in the silence.  Staring at Arthur expectantly, waiting for a word of reassurance, knowing nothing could be said that would make him feel better but hoping Arthur would at least try.

“Well?” John asked.

“Shit, I don’t know.  It happened before you came along, and Dutch never seemed to like it brought up in camp.  Honestly I’m surprised you never heard Dutch complaining about it when I went to visit.  Where did you think I was going all those times?”

“I thought you were seeing Mary Gillis!”

“You didn’t know I had a kid but you know about Mary?  I haven’t seen Mary in years,” Arthur said.

Arthur hadn’t told him about Mary, either.  John overheard Susan complaining about her one of the times Arthur left and asked.  Susan was more than happy to share the whole story about Mary, her short engagement to Arthur, and their eventual breakup when she decided that her father’s wishes for her future were more important than his brother.  On top of that, Susan believed that Mary often used Arthur, playing on his love for her and using the helpless rich girl act to get him to do things for her that she deemed to be unpleasant.  Naturally, John always assumed Arthur was running off to see her and that’s why Susan was annoyed.  Maybe Susan hadn’t known about Isaac, either.  Still, that didn’t excuse Arthur.  “So, you just didn’t tell me?”

“I guess I… that part of my life was separate from the gang and… it just never felt right bringing it up here.”  Arthur avoided looking at John, choosing to stare at the reins in his hand.

“But you brought him here.”

“His ma died.  I had to.”

“I know, I just…” John didn’t finish his sentence.  He didn’t know where it was going, anyway.

“I’m sorry, okay?  I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” John said, still sour.  His horse, tired of just standing around, pulled his head forward to nibble on some grass.

Immediately, Arthur said, “Get his head up.  He’s going to get grass stuck in his bit.”

“I know.”

“Don’t let him bully you around.”

“I know!  Jesus,” John muttered.

“You did make a good choice,” Arthur said.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.  “You know what?  I bet my horse is faster than yours!”

“You know I have a race horse, right?”

“Bet I can get to the downed tree on the other side before you!” said John.

“You’re on!” Arthur laughed, but the laughed turned to a shout when John spurred his horse forward without warning.  “Hey!”

John let out a triumphant whoop, but his lead didn’t last as long as he hoped.  Boadicea bore down on him fast, and overtook him halfway across the field.  “Dammit, Arthur!” John shouted after him, not that Arthur heard over the thundering hooves.  He tapped his horse with the spurs, urging him on.

But Arthur was right, Boadicea was simply too fast.  Cheering as he passed the fallen tree and pulling Bo up, Arthur took a moment to mock John, as usual.  “Even with a fancy new horse, you still can’t beat me.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” John said.

“You want to try your luck on the way back?”

Arthur went to turn Bo around, but she pinned her ears and started tossing her head.  John’s horse also danced nervously.  “What is it, Bo?” Arthur asked.

A low, loud snort sounded behind them.  A huge bull moose crept out from the bushes, pawing the ground.  Arthur reached for his rifle, saying, “Easy, boy.”

The moose bellowed and charged.

Immediately, Boadicea spun and fled.  Arthur twisted around, trying to aim back at the moose.  But John’s horse didn’t run, instead he held his ground to the last second before sidestepping the monster and kicking out with his back legs.  His hooves made contact, causing the moose to stagger a little.  At the same time, Arthur fired, hitting the moose in the skull.  The ground shook when it fell.

“Shit!” Arthur said.  “John, you alright?”

“Yeah.  That thing is huge!”

“I know.  Haven’t seen a moose in some time.  I forgot how big they are.”

“Hey Arthur, guess what?”

“What?”

John grin widened.  “My horse is braver than yours!”

“Shut up!  Your horse is dumber than mine.”

Another horse was running up behind them, and John turned to take in the color draining from Hosea’s face.  “What happened?  Why are you shooting?”

John pointed down at the moose and said, “Moose.”

“Charged us,” Arthur added.

“I’m glad you’re both alright!”  Hosea whistled, and said, “Damn, what a beauty!  We’re going to eat well tonight.  You know what this means, right?  You boys are going to learn how to skin a moose!”

Both John and Arthur groaned.

Skinning such a large animal was messy and time consuming.  The sun was starting to set by the time they loaded up the meat, antlers, and pelt onto their horses, but all three had triumphant grins on their faces as they road into camp.

“Well, you had a productive afternoon,” Dutch said.  “That’s a fine animal you got there, John.  Both of them.”

“I thought of the perfect name for him,” John said.  “Moose!”

“Moose?  What kind of stupid name is that?” Arthur immediately said.

“Better name than Boadicea!”

“No, it’s not!  Boadicea is a great name!”

“I think it’s wonderful, son,” Dutch said.  “Moose will be a fine steed, I can feel it.  Now, let’s have ourselves a feast!”

John began unloading the meat with Hosea when Isaac ran up to Arthur.  “Pa!  You came back,” he said.

“Of course I did,” Arthur said.  “What did you do this afternoon?”

“Anna taught me how to braid hair, and we picked flowers.”

Bessie walked over, her hair in awkward, uneven braids with flowers sticking out.  “You did a fine job,” Arthur lied.

“Can I do yours, Anna?” Isaac asked.

Annabelle smiled and said, “Not today, sweetheart.  I’ve got to get my hair ready for a party!  Another time, maybe.”

It was stupid to be jealous.

But as he watched Arthur wander off with his son, he knew that feeling wouldn’t fade anytime soon.

Chapter Text

He tried to ignore Dutch walking over, hoping the man would take the hint. Mistakes had been made the previous night when Arthur, having picked up some candy while waiting on John's horse to be ready, tried to make up for abandoning Isaac to Annabelle and Bessie for the afternoon by letting him consume copious amounts of it. The result was a very hyper child that would not sleep until well after midnight, though somehow he was up and ready to play with Copper at six in the morning.

"Hey, Arthur! There's a house that's supposed to be sitting on a lot of cash one town over. Want to check it out?"

Damn.

"I don't know, Dutch," he replied.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

He could tell that Dutch wasn't about to give up and almost resigned himself to the job when Hosea appeared. "Arthur is tired, Dutch. He had a late night."

"He always seems to have late nights, nowadays," Dutch said, with a hint of anger in his voice. Arthur managed not to flinch at the low growl and the hard eyes.

Hosea didn't miss it, either. "You have something you want to say?"

"Maybe," Dutch snarled.

"So say it!"

With a scoff, Dutch strode off to his tent. Hosea rolled his eyes and went after him.

"You following me now?" Dutch yelled.

"Until you stop being an ass, yes! What is your problem?"

"Arthur is the one with the problem! Why isn't that boy working?" Dutch shouted. He was too loud. He had to know Arthur could hear him. "He used to be a man of action! Scoping out leads, finding us work. I never had to worry about him. But now? He's always in camp. I never expected this lazy behavior from him!"

Dutch must have wanted Arthur to hear him. That didn't stop the words from crushing him, forcing the air from his lungs and not letting them expand again.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Hosea shouted back. "He just went on that stagecoach job with you."

"A week ago!"

"Oh, and you've done so much since then, haven't you?" The sarcasm dripped heavily from his words. Arthur knew he should leave, scoop Isaac up and get him away from what was building to be a monumental Dutch-Hosea fight. But he couldn't move.

"Did you not hear about the house I found? We could have more leads if Arthur was out there searching, too. We need supply money, and we don't want to blow our whole savings, do we? And I thought Arthur understood that, but no! He just stays in camp."

"Oh, and I suppose raising a child is nothing? He's a parent, that's not a job for the lazy! Arthur works harder than anyone here, and if you can't see that, then you are hopeless!"

"Is that how it's going to be?" Dutch asked, throwing his hands in the air. "Arthur just dedicates himself to parenting? Without earning his keep?"

"I'd rather have Arthur raise that boy right than get himself killed out there trying to meet your ridiculous standards!"

He didn't hear the footsteps behind him until the hand touched his shoulder, light and soft. He did flinch away that time, choking on the tiny breaths he managed to get in. "Oh, Arthur," Bessie said.

"Pa?" Isaac had stopped playing with Copper, instead watching Arthur. Arthur couldn't even find the words to say he was fine, not that they would have been true.

Bessie stepped around him, walking up to Dutch and Hosea. "WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP!" They both did, immediately. Bessie never raised her voice like that. "If you are going to fight, do it outside of camp!" She turned on her heel, dropping the anger for Arthur's sake. "Come on, honey," she said, gently pulling Arthur to his feet and leading him to her tent with one hand around his arm and the other grasping Isaac's hand. John was already inside, watching Dutch and Hosea retreat into the woods through the tent flaps.

"Oh, hi," John said awkwardly. "I can go-"

"You can stay," Bessie said. "I think it would be good if we all stay in here for a minute. Besides, since Susan and Annabelle went to that party, I think we deserve the afternoon to ourselves, don't you agree?"

"Sounds good to me," John said, but Arthur shook his head.

"No, Dutch is right." He went to stand. "I haven't been doing anything. I need to work more."

"Dutch is an idiot," Bessie said, pushing him back down.

"Is Pa okay?" Isaac asked her. Arthur felt his face turning red with embarrassment. He knew everyone was watching him. Even Copper could tell something was wrong, joining Arthur on the ground and laying his head in Arthur's lap to stare up at him with his big, brown eyes.

"He'll be fine," said Bessie, pulling him into a hug. "He just doesn't like it when those two argue."

Arguing was an understatement. Dutch and Hosea fought all the time, but never to that degree. And never about him! At least, not since he was fourteen, and that was usually a fight about how best to raise a teenager.

"I didn't like it," Isaac said. "They are loud and scary!"

"And that's why I told them to leave," she said as a matter of fact. She wrapped one arm around Arthur, and the other around John, hugging them close. "You know what might make your father feel better? You could show him your new braiding skills! I think his hair is long enough."

"Braids?" John snorted.

"Maybe you should do John's after," Arthur shot back. "Then again, it's kind of gross. When's the last time you had a bath, Marston?"

"Last week!"

"Are you a girl?" Isaac asked John.

"What? No!"

"But your hair is long like a girl's!"

The slight laugh fell out of Arthur before he even realized. It only increased when John sputtered, "It's not that long!" Though Arthur thought John should check a mirror, it was past his shoulders already.

"Men can have long hair," Arthur told Isaac. "Providing they take care of it."

"Really?" Isaac asked.

"Yeah, you know, you got to comb it once in a while. Otherwise it will mat up and someone is going to have to lob it off with a pair of scissors," he said pointedly at John. John tried to smack him from around Bessie.

Isaac crawled up onto Hosea's cot behind Arthur and grabbed a chunk of Arthur's hair under Bessie's supervision. He was surprisingly gentle, though he was sure the small braid was very loose. "I should let you do Boadicea's mane sometime."

Outside the tent, Hosea returned to camp huffing and stomping his feet. He went to enter the tent, but Bessie called out to him, "The boys are in here. You calmed down?"

Pausing, Hosea breathed in deep and gave a shaky exhale. "I'm calm."

"Good. Come in."

Hosea slipped inside, looking guilty as he barely met Arthur's eyes. "I'm sorry you had to hear all that."

"It's alright."

"No, it isn't." Hosea sat down on Arthur's other side, also wrapping an arm around him.

When was the last time any of them had sat like this? Briefly after he came back with Isaac, he supposed. But before that? He couldn't remember. They'd been very busy with jobs and a string of successes, and he supposed he hadn't really needed this in a long time. He leaned his head back onto the cot, eyes closed, relishing Hosea's hand rubbing his back, the soft tugging on his hair, Bessie's encouraging words, the scraping of a knife against wood as John began whittling, probably needing to do something with his hands but wanting to stay with family.

Of course, the family wasn't complete. "Where's Dutch?" Arthur asked.

"Stormed off somewhere, maybe to rob that house he was talking about. Or the saloon," Hosea said. "Don't you worry about him. Worry about what your hair looks like right now."

"Isaac is doing a lovely job," Bessie said.

"He sure is!"

Arthur smiled, and tried to ignore Dutch's words. Still, they lingered, along with the fear that Dutch was right. He wasn't doing enough. He didn't deserve to stay here.

Still, they sat a little longer, until some noises outside the tent caused Copper to jump up and begin baying. "Now, where is everybody?" Susan called into camp.

Hosea stood, his knees cracking, and went to meet them. "How did you ladies do?"

"We got ourselves some nice items!" Annabelle giggled. "And had a bit too much wine."

"Seems so. Susan, your face is redder than a tomato."

"Hush, you!" Susan said.

Hosea laughed. "I hope your drinking didn't get in the way of your robbing."

"If you must know, we snagged these bottles on the way out."

"Glad you managed to stay on your horses!"

Bessie stood up, too. "Shall we get dinner started?" she asked Arthur and John. "It's getting late!"

"Sure," Arthur replied. "At least we don't have to go hunting with all that moose meat."

"No, we won't need more for a while! Alright, Isaac, let's tie off those braids so your father can help get food ready."

"Okay!" Isaac said. "Do you like them, Pa?"

Bessie grabbed some mirrors so that he could see. Just like Bessie's the day before, Arthur's braids were a little lumpy and the strands were uneven. "I like them a lot!" he told Isaac.

"Come on, let's wash up!" Bessie said, and they all went out to prepare dinner. They ate while listening to Annabelle recalled the rich ladies she'd spent the afternoon with, and what terrible people they were. If Susan and Annabelle were wondering why Dutch was missing, they didn't say anything. Perhaps Hosea had managed to let them know while Arthur was out of earshot. He kept expecting Dutch to stumble in, drunkenly claiming he was the one who had been wronged and demanding apologies.

But Dutch didn't come back that night, nor was he there when they woke the next morning. He could tell Hosea was preparing to send out a search party when they saw Nero and a pair of Tennessee Walkers coming up the trail. Arthur squinted. The boys looked familiar.

"Hosea!" Dutch said, all cheer and grins. "Meet Mac and Davey Callander!"

"Your poker friends? What are they doing here, Dutch?" Hosea asked suspiciously.

"Why Mac, Davey, and I have become rather well-acquainted these last few weeks, and I thought I'd see how they would do with a simple house robbery." Dutch glanced at Arthur as he spoke. "They did a fine job, so I invited them back here."

"You must be Hosea. I'm Davey," the taller one said.

Hosea shook his hand, and said, "Forgive me for being a little taken aback. Dutch here failed to discuss his interest in you joining us."

"Ah, well, maybe we can split this bottle and call it even," Davey said, pulling out a fifth of whiskey.

"We'll see," Hosea replied. "This is Arthur and his son, Isaac. That one's John. My wife, Bessie. Susan and Annabelle."

"The ugly fucker behind me is my brother, Mac."

"Who you calling ugly?"

"You always had a horse's ass for a face."

"I'll break your nose, see who you calling ugly then!"

"They are quite interesting characters, are they not?" Dutch said.

"That's one word for it," Arthur muttered.

Dutch ignored him. "Let's open that bottle!"

Arthur wasn't entirely sure what to think of Mac and Davey Callander by the end of the first night. They were loud, for sure. Violent, too. Arthur had to step between Hosea and Mac when Mac called Hosea a cheat during a game of blackjack. Sure, Hosea probably was cheating, but they were playing for pennies. Then Davey, stumbling drunk, had knocked over Isaac. That led to a fight between Davey and Arthur, and then Arthur and Mac when it looked like Arthur was about to successfully pound Davey into the dirt.

So the next morning, a bruised and sore Arthur fully intended to keep himself and Isaac well away from both Callander brothers, but Davey found him quickly. "Hey, sorry about last night. Your kid okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, he's fine. Right, Isaac?" Arthur said, still positioned protectively in front of his son.

"I'm fine," Isaac said.

"How about we make it even, huh? You can knock me over! Go on, give it your best shot!"

Isaac looked to Arthur for permission, and Arthur nodded. He stepped forward and gave Davey a light shove, but Davey collapsed with an exaggerated gasp. "Ah, he got me! Wow, you're so strong!"

Isaac giggled and Arthur offered Davey a hand back up. Mac also came up and said, "Sorry. But that Hosea definitely cheats."

"He's a conman, what did you expect?" Arthur said.

"I don't know how he does it, though. I was watching him close."

"I've been trying to figure that out for years!"

Maybe they weren't too bad. Arthur certainly had his moments of drunken mishaps, and he truly might have been joining them in downing whole bottles if he didn't have Isaac to look out for now.

But for some reason, Dutch didn't seem too pleased with Arthur getting to know Mac and Davey. "How about us boys head over to Loveland. I think we've done all we can in Fort Collins, and it's close enough we don't need to move camp. Go to the saloon, see if we can dig up some leads. Oh, but wait! I bet Arthur needs to watch his son. Guess it will just be us three!"

That bastard.

But Arthur could be just as, if not more, stubborn.

"Fine. Have fun," he said, and walked away. He hoped Dutch had some other reason to invite two new people into the gang other than to replace him.

"Hey Isaac, what's say you and me go have some fun? What do you want to do today?"

"Can we play a game?"

"Sure! What game?"

Isaac paused, looking up at him with a spark in his eyes, then slapped Arthur on the arm. "Tag! You're it!"

Arthur tried to reach out and grab him, but Isaac darted away. "Oh, get back here!" Arthur called after him. He tried chasing Isaac, but Isaac could duck under the wagons and sprint circles around him.

"I think you are getting a little slow in your age, Arthur," Hosea laughed, watching them.

"What age, old man?" Arthur said, then tapped his arm. "You're it! Good luck!"

"Oh, so that's how you play, is it?" Hosea's head swiveled, looking for his next victim, but Bessie saw it coming. She slipped out of reach. So Hosea tagged an unsuspecting Susan, instead.

"Mr. Matthews! Get back here this instant!" Susan shouted, and soon the entire camp was involved. Even John joined in. Arthur was glad, since he wasn't entirely sure what John thought of Isaac.

As for his son, Arthur had to pause and take in the scene. Isaac ran and laughed, completely carefree, just as he had been before Eliza died.

Of course, stopping only made him a target. "Got you, Arthur!" Annabelle said, and the chase was on again.

Later, when everyone was finally worn out, Susan divvied out the chores and they went on with the tedious parts of camp life. By the time Dutch rode back in with the Callander brothers, having unfortunately not found any good leads during the day out in town, the group was sitting around the campfire, singing songs and sharing stories.

"Well, I'm glad you folks had a good time," Dutch said.

"No luck?" Hosea asked.

"No, not yet. If Loveland has opportunities, they are not so obvious on first glance."

"We'll find something. We should have been good to get over the mountains, but we need more supplies with more mouths to feed."

"A worthy investment in our future, old friend," said Dutch. "We might have more luck with more people searching for leads."

"I can take a trip over there, see what I can dig up."

"I think you know that's not what I mean," Dutch muttered.

"I'm not having this conversation again."

Annabelle nudged Arthur, looking at Isaac in his lap. "I think someone's ready for bed."

Sure enough, Isaac's head was drooping and his eyes were fluttering. "Come on, kid," Arthur said, lifting him up and carrying him back to his tent. Lately, Isaac got the whole cot to himself and Arthur slept in a bedroll on the ground.

"Who's that?" Isaac asked sleepily, pointing at one of the pictures of Arthur's nightstand.

"That's my ma."

"I have a grandma? Can I meet her?"

"No, son, I'm sorry," Arthur said. "She died, when I was about your age. She got sick."

"Oh. What about your pa?"

"Well, this is him." Arthur took down one of the photographs he had hanging along the wall. "He died, too. But he weren't a very nice man."

"He has your hat," Isaac said.

"Well, technically I have his." Arthur pulled the old gambler hat off his head and handed it to Isaac, who promptly plopped it on his own head.

"It doesn't fit!" he laughed, the brim falling right over his eyes.

"Of course not! It's too big!"

"Why is there a hole in it?"

"Uh, that's a story for another time. Why don't you go to sleep now. You had a long day!"

"Okay, Pa."

Arthur tucked his son in, brushed the hair out of his eyes, and went back to the campfire.

"Hey Arthur, a round of cards?" Mac asked, set up with Susan and Hosea.

"Sure, why not," Arthur said.

"You can be my second set of eyes on that one," Mac said, jerking his thumb at Hosea.

"He ain't the one you need to watch out for. Susan somehow beats him even when he's cheating," Arthur replied.

"Damn right I do," said Susan. "Now is one of you boys going to deal or so I have to do everything myself?"

"Here," Hosea said, holding out his hand.

Mac shook his head. "No way am I letting him deal."

"He learns fast, doesn't he?" Hosea said, relinquishing the cards.

It didn't matter who dealt, really. Hosea already had an ace up his sleeve.

Chapter Text

As the only ones who hadn't done any robbing their entire time in Colorado, the job of buying supplies from the store and checking the mail usually fell to Hosea and Bessie. To be honest, Hosea was surprised he hadn't gotten involved in any of the jobs. Usually, he'd sniff out the morons and idiots who happened to be sitting on some cash and con them out of it with an investment scheme. But he supposed the appearance of Isaac had forced him to slow down, to pay more attention to his son than potential jobs.

"Did you remember Susan's list?" Bessie asked.

"Oh, I hope so. I don't want to turn around," Hosea said, digging through his satchel. "Here it is!" He brandished the paper with a flourish.

"Good. I didn't want to turn around, either," she laughed.

"Glad to be away from camp?"

"Yes. You know I love spending time with everyone, but I needed a break. Those two new boys…"

"I know. I'm worried they won't fit in with us."

"Davey tripped and fell into some mud last night. You should have heard Susan this morning, dragging him over to the wash barrel."

"That boy can't hold his liquor!" Hosea said.

Bessie's laugh was short. She chewed on her lip, which Hosea knew to be a nervous habit. She hesitated, and said, "I heard Dutch telling John about that house robbery they went on. The owner woke up, and Mac beat him unconscious. No threats, just… ruthless. I just don't know what Dutch was thinking, bringing them here."

"I know. But Dutch has a thing for finding wayward, unruly strays, remember Arthur when he was a teenager?" Several times, Hosea and Dutch had to drag a drunk Arthur away from a fight at the saloon. Their boy was constantly brewing with frustration, anger, and fear in the first few years, and it exploded out of him towards anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way. The task of pulling Arthur aside, coaxing his emotions out of him in words rather than fists, often landed on Hosea's shoulders. And Bessie's.

"I know, but Dutch seemed… proud. I just don't want them to be a bad influence on John. That boy can be difficult enough."

"John's gotten a lot better, he's been with us three years now," said Hosea. "He takes regular baths!"

"And I'm worried about how they'll be with Isaac, especially after that first night. At least Davey seems okay around kids."

"True, but I doubt Dutch considered that when he brought them back. The timing suggests something else. It's almost like Dutch is trying to make Arthur jealous."

"Or scared of being replaced," Bessie added.

Hosea hummed, and focused on guiding the wagon around the turn into town. "You buy the groceries and I check the mail?"

"Sure!"

Hosea left her with the wagon and went to the post office. He kept his head on a swivel, looking for dark duster coats and green neckerchiefs. He didn't buy into Dutch's confidence that Colm wouldn't come after them. But he didn't spot any along the street, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Afternoon, sir," he said to the clerk. "Any mail for Tacitus Kilgore?"

"Yes, actually. I know I spotted one yesterday." The clerk shuffled through a box of mail before extracting one letter, the return address being Bessie's sister.

"Thank you," he said, and returned to Bessie to help move the shopping.

Between Hosea and the shop owner, they loaded up the items quickly. "Any news?" Bessie asked as the last box went into the wagon.

"Amy wrote back."

"Oh, good! That everything, sir?"

"That it is." The owner took the money, and the Matthews headed back to camp.

"You going to open it?" Hosea asked, pointing to the letter still in her hands.

"I suppose. I guess I'm a little worried about what Amy has to say about Arthur. She has some idea of who he is, and what all of you do."

"Only one way to find out," Hosea said.

She tugged the envelope open and slid the letter out, her eyes quickly scanning the contents. Hosea could see the moment she found what she was looking for, and her shoulders relaxed. "Amy wants to meet Arthur. She said that he can come back with me this winter, and if he does well, he can stay on!"

"Oh, good!"

"I think she's excited about the idea of having another child on the ranch. Her youngest just turned eight."

"Now we just need to convince Arthur."

"Right," said Bessie. "I don't want to just send him away, but…"

Hosea absolutely hated the idea of sending Arthur away. He loved that boy more than he ever imagined, even thought of him as a son. He knew Bessie felt the same way. But their life was dangerous, the stagecoach job proved that. Isaac already lost one parent, and he was just so young. The stability of ranch life would be good for him, and though he knew Arthur would miss their life and the gang, he had a feeling that Arthur wanted a better life for his son, too. And being with Bessie's sister made visiting easy, for some of the gang, at least.

Dutch, on the other hand, would likely never step foot on the ranch. Hosea didn't know how he was going to get Dutch to understand. He didn't know if it was possible.

Bessie must have been thinking the same thing, because she said, "I think we should see if Arthur's on board before we tell anyone else."

Hosea nodded. "I hope Arthur listens to us. He's very loyal to Dutch, even if Dutch is being an ass right now and can't see it." If Bessie had gotten pregnant after they got married, not that either of them were trying for a baby, Hosea's first thought would have been to pack up his tent, get a job, and buy a homestead. Even without a baby, he did pack up and leave once. He wondered if the thought ever crossed Arthur's mind.

"And we're not forcing him. We're just presenting it as an option, one that we support."

"Right. Even if we're more persuasive than simply supportive," Hosea drawled.

"What if we talk to Annabelle first? I think if anyone could help convince Arthur, it would be her."

"Maybe, but I worry that Dutch will think we were all plotting against him."

"Would he really think that?"

"Yes," Hosea grumbled.

Bessie just shrugged. "I think we should introduce this to Arthur as a temporary option. Just for the winter, to see if he likes it. Give Isaac and him a chance to bond better, surely Arthur didn't get much time before with his short visits. And we need to make it clear that he doesn't have to stay at the ranch if he doesn't want to. He can come back. It's his decision, even if we are encouraging him to take it."

"True. Maybe he can just do what you do, visiting for the spring and summer and leaving for winter. It shouldn't mean goodbye forever."

"You know how much he loves horses, that will help convince him. He'd be amazing at getting the young horses under saddle and ready for sale."

"Remember when he came back with that wild Morgan? And we really couldn't afford to take care of another horse at the time? Took us weeks to convince him that he was too big for it!" Hosea laughed.

"Oh, that horse turned into such a sweetheart. I hated to see her go."

"Amy ever say what kind they want to breed?" Hosea asked.

"Kentucky Saddlers. Good, reliable riding horses. Should be pretty profitable out that way," Bessie said.

They made good time getting back to camp and unloaded the supplies. Once again, Dutch sat next to the Callander boys, laughing or preaching or whatever he decided was a good use of his time. And ignoring everyone else doing chores.

"Hey Arthur, you busy?" he called out to his son, who was carrying hay to the horses while keeping an eye on Isaac playing with two wooden figurines.

"Let me just put this down, what do you need?"

"Just want to talk to you. Come here when you're done."

Arthur dropped the hay bale and joined Hosea and Bessie. They sat within view of Isaac, but far enough away from Dutch that he wouldn't hear them or, hopefully, think to come over.

"Now, before we begin, what is that boy wearing?"

They both turned to Isaac, who had on a pair of purple pants and an orange shirt that clashed horribly, and a large boater hat that Hosea was pretty sure Arthur stole from some guy in South Dakota. Arthur sighed and said, "He wanted to dress himself."

"And you didn't object?" Hosea snickered.

"Eliza said letting kids make their own choices was important!"

"To a point. At least we aren't taking him to town," Hosea said before becoming serious again. "Now then, when you first brought Isaac back here, Bessie and I had a thought. Life in a gang, it might not be best for a boy as young as Isaac. Especially if his father is risking his life on jobs like we do."

"What are you trying to say?" Arthur asked with trepidation, glancing between Hosea and Bessie.

"Arthur, you remember my sister and her ranch, right?" Bessie said. "We were thinking that this winter, you could come with me. Help them with their new horses. And maybe, if you would want a job there, permanently…"

"You don't have to decide now. Hell, you wouldn't have to decide until the end of winter," Hosea jumped in. He could see Arthur tense up, like Boadicea when she was about to bolt. "But we know this has been hard for Isaac and for you-"

"You mean I should leave the gang?"

"No! Well, maybe," Hosea admitted. "I'm not talking about riding out of here forever and never seeing us again. You could travel back and forth with Bessie, or rejoin us when Isaac is a little older. I want you to be happy, Arthur. And safe. And for Isaac to be happy and safe."

"Ranch life could be good for him," Bessie added. "And there's other kids. Older, but still."

"You really think I should do it? What about Dutch?" Arthur asked. As predicted, Arthur was thinking about Dutch in a time like this. If only Dutch could see how loyal Arthur truly was.

"You let me handle Dutch. This isn't about what he wants. It's about what you want!"

Arthur nodded, eyes dropping to the ground. Bessie opened her arms for a hug. "Come here, honey," she said.

After a moment, Arthur shuffled closer and let her wrap her arms around him. He fell into her more with a shuddering breath. "I don't want to leave," he said.

"I know, honey, I know," Bessie said. "But think about it, please?"

"Okay. I guess it could be good. Living with Isaac on a farm."

"Do you want us to mention it to Dutch, or wait?" Hosea asked.

"Might as well get it over with," Arthur groaned.

"NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"It's not your decision."

"THE HELL IT ISN'T!" Dutch roared. "ARTHUR IS A MEMBER OF THIS GANG. HE IS MY SON!"

"He is an adult who can make his own choices," Hosea continued, trying to keep the conversation civil and quiet. Not that it was working. He could see John watching from a back at camp, and Susan too. Apparently they didn't walk far enough away. Fortunately, Arthur himself had been warned in advance of the conversation, and was out of sight in his tent.

"His own decisions?" Dutch asked, his voice quieter but accusatory. "I have a feeling this wasn't Arthur's idea."

"You're right, it wasn't!" Hosea admitted. "Bessie and I just want what's best for Arthur and Isaac."

"Dutch," Annabelle started, "Please calm down. They have a point."

"A point?" Dutch started, turning on Annabelle now. "You are taking their side in this?"

"Side? What side?" she asked. "They aren't forcing Arthur to do anything. It's not one thing or the other."

"Isn't it?"

"You're being irrational."

"How am I the irrational one here?" Dutch asked.

"Because you're not, for one second, considering how difficult this must be for Arthur!" Annabelle shouted. "You're only thinking about yourself and your next job!"

"I'm only thinking about myself?" Dutch said. "Am I not trying to support a camp of people, including Arthur's son? How are we supposed to keep everyone fed, make money, get jobs done without him? What happens when he leaves?"

"And what happens," Hosea said, grim and indignant, "when something goes wrong on a job? Because sooner or later, it does, Dutch. Hell, Arthur was shot by O'Driscolls on an easy stagecoach robbery!"

"You know that was simply an unfortunate occurrence, and-"

Annabelle cut off Dutch's reply. "Hosea's right, Dutch. This life is dangerous. I'd rather see Arthur once or twice a year than explain to that poor boy why his dad isn't coming home!"

Dutch scoffed. "I see I'm being outnumbered here." And he walked away.

"Well, that could have gone worse," Hosea said.

"You think he'll come around?" Bessie asked.

"Not for a while," said Annabelle, rolling her eyes.

Dutch called out to the Callander brothers, probably inviting them out to the saloon for a drink. "Let's worry about Dutch later," Hosea said. "Arthur is the one who needs us."

Of course, on the way back to Arthur, they passed John, sitting against a wagon wheel. He didn't acknowledge them when they passed, just staring straight ahead.

"Hey, son," Hosea said, letting the women go ahead and sitting next to John.

"Is Arthur really leaving?"

"We don't know yet. He hasn't decided."

"Oh."

Hosea sat down next to him and said, "Maybe you should go talk to Arthur about it."

"I don't know."

"You know, ranch life doesn't sound so bad some days."

John didn't respond.

"I ever tell you that I left the gang for a while?"

"What?" John turned to face him, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

"Oh, yes. It as a long time ago, now. Maybe a year or two after Arthur joined us. I'd just gotten married to Bessie. And she knew who I was, accepted it, but I know it made her nervous every time Dutch and I would go after a stage or break into a homestead."

"Why'd you go?"

"I got hurt. Real bad, on a job one day." Hosea could still remember the moment right before it happened. They broke into a huge, supposedly empty mansion while the family was out of town. Unfortunately, their information was wrong. The family trip did not include the patriarch, Mr. Morrison, who wasn't afraid to confront intruders with his pistol.

Hosea didn't even have time to react, or even think. He just remembered the loud bang, the searing pain through his right thigh, Arthur screaming for Dutch. Mr. Morrison, despite his preparedness, had been a terrible shot and managed to miss the major arteries, but the wound still bled heavily. The long ride back was fuzzy, filled with Dutch's fearful whispers in his ear as the younger man held him in the saddle. He was pretty sure Dutch threatened a doctor at one point and Bessie had to kick him out of the tent, but despite the blood loss and risk of infection, he survived.

"Obviously, I didn't kick the bucket," Hosea laughed. He could laugh now, but not then. Not when he woke up with Bessie's red, puffy eyes meeting his own after days of sitting with him. He never wanted to see her like that again. "But it made me reconsider my priorities. Bessie and I tried to go straight. We traveled, went down to Ambarino, New Hanover, all the way to Lemoyne, though we didn't stay too long there."

"But you came back," said John.

"I did. I healed up, saw a lot of this country with Bessie, but I knew I couldn't settle down. I missed the life, I missed Dutch and Arthur. I was worried what Bessie would think, but we talked it out, agreed to give it another go. And I think it's worked out for the best. We got to meet you, after all."

John gave him a slight smile.

"You see John, sometimes you think your life is going in one direction, and it's all you can imagine. This life, living free, I never thought I would trade it for anything when I first met Dutch, and I'm guessing you feel the same. But there's nothing wrong with good, honest work, either. I take it you've never been on a ranch, John."

"Not one I wasn't robbing," he said.

"You ever think about working on one?"

"Hell, no!"

"Like I said, there's nothing wrong with it."

"What? You sending me away, too?" John asked, scrambling back.

"No, I know better than to force that upon you. I suppose I'm just trying to impart some wisdom. I know Dutch and I gave you and Arthur a home. You have people who care for you and look out for you, but sometimes I wonder if we've doomed you at the same time."

"Doomed me? Dutch saved my life!"

"That he did. But the more you work with us, the more likely you'll have a bounty on your head. No matter how good you are, well, this will end. One way or another. And I don't know too many old outlaws, do you? You and Arthur, even Dutch, you didn't have the best lives growing up, and you all lost family pretty young. I'm hoping Arthur can break that cycle with Isaac. And I want to remind you that you can break the cycle, too."

John shook his head. "Naw, I like this life. It's a lot better than what I had before."

"Fine. But please don't blame your brother for wanting different things."

"I'll try," John said.

"That's my boy," Hosea said with a wide smile, patting John on the shoulder.

Again, he headed for Arthur's tent, where he assumed Annabelle and Bessie were waiting, but then he noticed Annabelle whispering madly with Susan. Watching for a moment, Hosea wondered if he should interrupt, but then Susan stormed off. "What was that about?" he asked Annabelle.

"Susan doesn't like the idea of Arthur leaving."

"So the camp is split."

"Pretty much. She says he's being disloyal."

Hosea sighed and rubbed his temple, trying to figure out a plan. "Bessie doesn't leave until end of August. We have time to deal with the fallout. I might go with them, at least in the beginning."

"I understand," Annabelle said.

"I hate to leave you to deal with-"

"Oh, don't worry about that. This is for Arthur."

"Right," he said, pushing himself up and walking to the tent. "For Arthur and Isaac."

Chapter Text

“Are you just going to keep ignoring me?”

Dutch didn’t answer. He turned the page of his book.

“Really?”

Dutch let out a long sigh, and turned away.

“Well, two can play this game,” Annabelle said.

“You want to explain why you are encouraging Arthur to abandon us?” Dutch asked, sullen and annoyed.

“I didn’t. I encouraged you to let him make his own decisions,” she replied.

“Oh, really? You didn’t go straight to his tent after and tell him to run off to be rancher?”

“Not yet. I stopped to talk to Susan.”

“Not yet?”

“Dutch-”

“Fine, just tear the family apart, why don’t you!” Dutch shouted, and stormed away.

Apart from this outburst, silence had invaded Annabelle and Dutch’s tent both the previous night and that morning. Annabelle let out a sigh as Dutch disappeared behind the other tents. When she first met Dutch years ago in that hotel, she couldn’t help but be pulled into a conversation. Dutch’s opinions swirled brilliantly through their passionate debate, his ideas of the world were bold, he listened to her views, truly listened even if he ended up countering them. She had already started to fall in love with him that first night, and kept falling in love after. She loved him even when she noticed the gaping hole in his thinking that appeared again and again.

For a man who meticulously planned robberies and crafted visions of their utopia, he could be incredibly short-sighted when it came to other people. He viewed Hosea’s year-long departure as a mistake, and his eventual return as proof of his philosophies. Other than that, Annabelle usually could talk him back, remind him of the factors he was missing.

Usually.

This time, though, an impenetrable curtain fell between them. Annabelle was trying to be patient. She could barely imagine Arthur, one of the original members, the one who turned a partnership into a gang, packing up and leaving it behind for a ranch life. But Hosea had a point, one which Dutch was stubbornly ignoring. Their life wasn’t safe.

Annabelle loved living free with the gang. But freedom came with uncertainty. There was little guarantee of a payday or even survival. So many things could get them out here: disease, accidents, bounty hunters, rival outlaws.

With the restrictions of normal employment came steady money, regular access to medicine and food, and a stable home. She may not have liked her mother’s job, but she understood now why she kept it all those years.

She’d miss Arthur. There was no doubting that. If he didn’t write to her, she’d have to go all the way to Indiana to have words with him. She guessed she’d have more luck getting letters from Arthur than she would from John, if the positions were changed. Those two boys… she may not have been there from the beginning with Arthur but she considered both to be her sons.

Annabelle turned away from Dutch’s retreating form and walked up to Arthur, announcing loudly for the entire camp to hear, “Hey, want to head into town with me and do some shopping? I have a few things to grab, and I’m sure Isaac has grown out of last year’s winter clothes by now. It’s always a good idea to shop before summer is over. Autumn gets cold fast.”

“Sure,” Arthur said. “Let’s just try his coat on first, see how much he’s grown.”

“Why don’t you just bring him along? It’s certainly easier than guessing. I’ll get the wagon ready.”

Annabelle decided to hitch Rory up to their smallest wagon. Normally, they forced one of their riding horses to pull the wagon, especially when they were moving camp. Most of the horses hated it, especially Leo and Bo. They’d have to start training Moose to do it soon. But for today, it made sense to take their only real wagon horse.

“You ready?” she called out.

Arthur emerged with Isaac on his shoulders. “You excited to get out of camp?” he asked Isaac.

“Yeah! Mama took me to town all the time. She’d always buy me candy.”

“Just one candy this time. We’re not having a repeat of that other night.”

Annabelle chuckled, and gave Arthur a hand up. “What? You didn’t like chasing a hyper child around camp all night?”

“Not in the slightest. But you can stay awake with him, if you want.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Annabelle gathered the reins and flicked them to encourage Rory out of camp. He started out at a steady trot, easily pulling the wagon along. It was a shame that Arthur would likely take Rory with him. Then again, maybe not. Bessie always took the train, since it was faster and safer.

“How are you, Arthur?” she asked him. “I know you’ve had a lot to think about lately.”

“I’m fine, I guess,” Arthur said, scratching his chin. “I know what I should do, it’s just…”

“Hard? To leave?”

“You’re leaving?” Isaac asked.

“You and me, together,” Arthur quickly corrected. “A friend has a farm we can live at. Have a proper house, instead of a tent. What do you think about that?”

“Okay, I guess,” said Isaac. “But we wouldn’t be camping?”

“That’s right, no more camping.”

“But Uncle Hosea says camping is the best!”

“Well, I guess we can go camping sometimes, in the summer when it’s warm. But winter is cold, with lot’s of snow. Staying in a house is better.”

“I agree,” Annabelle said. “I used to live in a really cold city, the wind blew the snow up to the buildings until it was so deep you couldn’t get out your door. Trust me, you want to be in a house with a roaring fire then.”

“But snow is fun! Mama let me play in the snow sometimes and she’d come outside and build a snowman with me! But then when we were done she’d make me come inside and sit by the fire.”

“Probably so your fingers and toes don’t freeze,” Arthur said. “But we’ll buy you a nice, warm coat, some gloves, a hat too so you can play in the snow when it comes.”

“When is that gonna be?”

“A couple of months.”

“Aw.”

“What do you mean? It’s summer! Best season! It’s hot, you don’t need all the layers, you can go swimming. Wait, can you swim?”

“No.”

“I’ll teach you how to swim. Maybe this year we can convince John to learn, too.”

Annabelle let out a snort and said, “Like that will ever happen.”

They made their way across the creek and down the hill while Isaac talked on and on about how much he liked snow and being outdoors in general. When they got to town, Arthur tried to head to the general store, but Annabelle steered him to the tailor instead.

“Why are we going here? A tailor shop is more expensive, you know that!”

“Yes, but they can advise you on what to get and hem items for you with purchase. Bessie can certainly let the hems out as he grows. At a general store, you just buy whatever is in stock.”

“I guess,” Arthur said.

“Please tell me you’ve shopped at a tailor’s before,” she teased.

“Only when Hosea and Dutch dragged me on a fancy job.”

“Well, I’m going to introduce you to the joys of the tailor shop,” Annabelle said. “This guy is good, he helped me and Susan find those dresses.”

The party had been a wonderful distraction from her worries about Isaac, Arthur, the fact that Dutch killed that O’Driscoll. Mr. Thompson, the tailor, had helped her find a beautiful red dress and lovely shoes to match. She rarely got the opportunity to wear such nice things these days, usually picking comfort over glamor.

“Good morning, miss,” Mr. Thompson said. “Here for another dress?”

“Not today, but that last one was wonderful. No, I brought my friend and his son. Isaac here could use some new winter clothes.” She patted Isaac on the shoulder.

“Of course, now are you looking for more practical clothes or-”

“Practical,” Arthur jumped in. “Definitely practical. We’re staying on a friend’s ranch this winter.”

“I understand, sir. Now, why don’t you hop up on here, young man, and we’ll get you fitted with a coat.” The tailor brought out a small platform and placed it in front of the mirrors, and Isaac climbed on top. “Do you have a color preference?” he asked Arthur.

“Uh, I don’t know. Something darker, I guess, to hide dirt and stuff.”

“We have this children’s coat in dark brown, red, blue, and black.”

“Isaac, you want brown, red, blue, or black?”

“Blue!” Isaac said.

“The customer has spoken,” the tailor joked, and put the blue coat on Isaac. “Just hold still, I’m going roll up these sleeves for you and put some pins in.”

“Okay!” Isaac stayed very still.

Annabelle stood next to Arthur a few feet away and whispered in his ear, “You’ve decided then? About the ranch?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” Arthur said.

“You do, though. Please don’t forget that.”

“But choosing to go is the better choice. At least for now, while he’s young.”

“That I agree with. I just didn’t want to pressure you,” Annabelle said. “And who knows? You might like it a whole lot! Having a small cabin, the same bed every night, a warm fire in the hearth… there’s times I miss it.”

“Let’s all go to Indiana then,” he teased. “Get a homestead together, or a small ranch of our own.”

“Could you imagine Dutch living on a ranch?”

“No!” he laughed.

“Cleaning up horse shit, milking cows, feeding the chickens…”

“He always manages to get himself out of the dirty work out here, and we live outdoors!” Arthur laughed. “Hey, when I’m gone, you should put him on horse shit duty.”

“Except Susan assigns the chores, and he has somehow convinced her that some tasks are beneath him.”

“Bribe her. Susan may respect Dutch’s authority, but she doesn’t mind making a few bucks on the side.”

“Why, Arthur, are you speaking from experience?”

“John has no idea why he always has to do the laundry.”

They both descending into giggles, earning a stare from the tailor.

Annabelle sighed. “It’s a lovely dream, having our own land out west. A place where we can do whatever we want, make our own money. Dutch has mentioned it before, but between you and me, I think he’s a bit too restless for that. Him and Hosea, they’ll be moving until the day they die.”

“Alright, how does this look?” Mr. Thompson said, stepping aside. Pins encircled Isaac’s wrists, and the shoulders were just a hair too wide. But that was by design, and the next size down would likely be too small. “I’ve kept the sleeves a little long, so I would suggest a nice, warm shirt and a good pair of mittens so the wind doesn’t get up his arms, but this way you shouldn’t need to immediately let the hems out. Who knows, depending on how fast he’s growing, it might be perfect by the time winter gets here!”

“Looks good,” Arthur said.

“Now, I can hem these cuffs right away. You are welcome to wait here, or come back later if you have other shopping to do.”

“We have other shopping, but we should get Isaac some new mittens, too.”

“That shouldn’t take too long. You pick them out when you get back.”

“Thank you,” said Arthur, and they guided Isaac out of the shop.

“Now, we can go to the general store,” Annabelle said, leading the way down the street.

“What do you need?”

“Some more food, Hosea wants some predator bait… I think he’s planning to take you boys bear hunting.”

“Oh, of course,” Arthur groaned.

“He’s been talking about his youthful days of bear hunting since we set eyes on those mountains. And finally,” Annabelle said, plucking a box of pipe tobacco off the shelf. “Some bribery.”

“Think that’ll work on Dutch?”

“If not, I’ll just smoke it. This isn’t my favorite, but it’ll do. And I can always move into Susan’s tent for a few days. That might shock him into conversation. Then again, she’s disagrees about Indiana, too.”

“You and Dutch doing alright? You haven’t fought like that in a long time. Think the last time was when you suggested that John might be too young to stay with us, and we should find him a family to take care of him.”

“And at the time, it was a good idea. Just because John ended up flourishing with us doesn’t mean my opinion was bad.”

“Yeah, he was a little shit back then. Still is, sometimes. Besides, I doubt he would have stayed put. He told me some stuff, about the place they sent him to when his father died.”

“I remember he used to have nightmares,” she said.

“Yeah, not just about that. He had it rough, more than most. I feel sorry for him sometimes. And I have to admit, he’s starting to grow up a little.”

“Arthur Morgan, I think you are turning into a good brother,” Annabelle said. “And you are going to be a great father to Isaac, I can tell.”

“I ain’t so sure some days,” he said, playing with his hat.

“Nonsense.”

Arthur turned to Isaac and asked, “You think he’s distracted for a second?”

“Yes, why?”

Arthur walked over to a small stack of journals. “Hosea’s idea, for teaching him writing and drawing.”

“A surprise, I take it?”

“Yeah, for his birthday maybe. Or sooner.”

“You going to teach him how to draw like you do?”

“I’m not that good.”

“Yes, you are. Wait, here he comes.” Annabelle stepped in front of Arthur while the he slid the shop owner the money for the journal. “Isaac, see anything you want?”

“They have chocolate bars!” Isaac said, running over with multiple bars in his hand. “Can I have it, Pa?”

“One,” Arthur said, slipping the journal in his satchel. “And maybe your Aunt Anna will pay for it.”

“If I pay, you can have two,” she winked.

“Undermining my authority?” he said.

“You learn those words from Dutch?” she shot back.

“Fine. If Aunt Anna buys you two, then you can have them.” Annabelle paid for the rest of the items. Arthur offered, “I can load these in the wagon and meet you and Isaac back at the tailor shop.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

Annabelle held Isaac’s hand as they walked down the street. She grabbed the shop’s door handle, then paused. She felt like she was being watched. Carefully, she scanned the reflections in the glass. There was someone sitting on a horse behind her, leaned casually on the pommel. After a second, the man turned the horse down the street, and Annabelle relaxed a little as she entered the shop.

“Alright, Isaac, let’s pick out some mittens!”

She didn’t tell Arthur about the man when he arrived. After all, it was probably nothing, just an asshole staring at women on the street. They bought Isaac two pairs of mittens and picked up the coat before deciding it was time to head back. Still, the feeling lingered in her gut.

“Can I eat the chocolate now?” Isaac asked not long after the wagon rolled out of town.

“Why not,” Arthur said. “Better to spoil your dinner than have you up all night.”

“Not a bad trade,” Annabelle laughed.

Arthur reached in the back to pull out the chocolate, since Isaac was on Annabelle’s lap. He paused while ruffling through the bags, then turned around slowly.

“I think we’re being followed,” he whispered.

She should have trusted her instincts. “How many?”

“Just two, but they seem like they’re watching us.”

“What should we do?”

Arthur stretched slightly, using the opportunity to peak over his shoulder again. “Dammit, I think there’s another one. Okay, keep it cool.”

Annabelle tightened her hold around Isaac. She and Arthur could easily fight off three men, but neither of them wanted to risk it with Isaac if they didn’t have to. She slipped her hand into her satchel, fingers tightening around her pistol.

“Hey, you two, wait up, why don’t yah?” one of the men called out, with a thick Irish accent.

“Keep it cool,” Arthur muttered again.

“Pa?” Isaac asked.

“It’s okay, Isaac. We’re fine.”

Another man rode out in front of them, the green neckerchief giving away who she suspected they were. O’Driscolls.

“Ah, look who it is. Dutch’s girl and Arthur Morgan! And a kid,” the man in front of them said. “And Colm only told us to look for the girl.”

“I’d let us by, if I were you,” Arthur growled.

“Can’t do that. You see, Colm’s pretty angry about his brother. Supposes one for one is pretty fair. That your kid?”

Annabelle hugged Isaac closer to her as more O’Driscolls emerged from the woods on either side. Annabelle glanced behind them, and knew there were too many to fight it out, Isaac or no Isaac.

Arthur leaned closer to her and whispered, “I’ll take out the one in front, clear the way. Run out of here as fast as you can, through the trees. I’ll cover you.”

The unspoken instruction was to leave him behind. “No,” she said.

The O’Driscoll addressed Arthur, saying, “Tell you what. You give us the girl, you and the kid can walk out of here just fine. Colm wants Dutch to know about this.”

Arthur tensed, shifting the reins to one hand. Ready to draw his gun.

“Arthur, it’s okay,” she said, louder so the O’Driscolls could hear. “Get Isaac home.”

She started to shift Isaac onto his lap, but in an instant Arthur drew his revolver and fired into the first O’Driscoll’s head. The dead man’s horse panicked and bolted off the path.

“Go!” he shouted, diving off the wagon and turning on the other men.

“Pa!” Isaac screamed back at him, but Annabelle slid off the other side of the wagon and sprinted into the trees. She hated being trapped on foot, but she understood Arthur’s intention. A wagon was easy to track and provided very little cover. Ducking her head down, she tightened her grip on Isaac, who twisted his head to hide in her arm. Gunshots erupted behind her, the O’Driscolls shouting.

“She’s getting away!”

“Forget her, get Morgan!”

The gunfire continued as she disappeared into the trees, and then abruptly stopped. Jeers and laughter replaced it.

She desperately wanted to turn back. But with Isaac in her arms, she kept running.

Chapter Text

Arthur woke up draped over the back of a horse, his arms tied behind his back. His head throbbed, but he managed not to groan. No point in letting his captors know he was awake until he remembered how he got into this situation.

Which was proving to be a problem. He must have been fighting someone. Bounty hunters maybe? Before last year and the bank robbery he did with Dutch and Hosea, they never really had to worry about bounty hunters. What had he done that day… he'd woken up, done some chores, took Annabelle and Isaac into town…

Then the O'Driscolls attacked them on the way home!

He forced his eyes open. He had to be sure they hadn't gotten Isaac and Annabelle, too. He was starting to remember, knew he'd told them to run! He'd jumped off the wagon, ducked behind a boulder, but someone must have come up behind him. Through blurry vision, he could make out several horses, but no one else was tied to the back. He relaxed as much as he could in that situation. They had gotten away, now he just needed to worry about getting himself home. From wherever he was.

"Think Colm'll be mad? Seeing as we didn't get Dutch's girl?" the rider on the horse with him said.

"Maybe? I bet he wanted to-"

"Naw, I think he'll like this better. Morgan was there when Dutch killed Connor," a third, the leader in front, replied. "I think Dutch shot Connor to save him, so this seems right to me."

Technically, Dutch was saving John, but Arthur wasn't about to say that out loud. Dutch didn't have a choice. But Colm wouldn't see it that way.

"He's right." There were three men. At least three, anyways. He remembered more. "And this fucker shot Patrick. Colm won't care, so long as he can send a message to Dutch."

Arthur breathed slow, trying to steady himself. Of course they planned to kill him, but he couldn't just try to run. He needed to bide his time, hope they stopped for a break, sneak away then.

Pray they didn't head straight for Colm, because there was no way he could get out of his bonds and run away without catching a bullet.

"We should pick it up," the man in the front said. "The girl will tell them what happened, and we won't have as much time for some fun."

Arthur didn't want to know what that would entail.

"I can't wait to see Van der Linde's face. The smug bastards going to pay for what he did."

"Hey, how's our guest?"

Arthur snapped his eyes shut, trying to appear limp and relaxed, but a hand reached back and yanked his head up by his hair.

"You with us, Morgan?"

He couldn't stop the groan from slipping out that time. God, his head hurt. The laughter that followed wasn't comforting.

"Don't you worry, it will all be over soon." The O'Driscoll slammed the butt of his gun into Arthur's head, and he drifted again. Occasionally he would surface and catch glimpses of ground and horses, but it was fuzzy, the edges of his vision were dark. His heart jolted into frantic beating each time, making him more and more confused. He had no idea how long it had been since he'd been taken, but it was still light out. It couldn't have been that long.

The O'Driscolls weren't stopping. He was going to die; his chances for escape were growing slimmer and slimmer. But at least Isaac was safe, he had to remember that, safe with Annabelle. He'd be back at camp, probably scared out of his mind, but alive.

But Isaac was in danger of losing his father, just like he lost his mother. Arthur couldn't do that to his son. He had to get back, he had to fight, seize the first opportunity and keep pushing, no matter what.

They were far from camp when the O'Driscolls attacked. But Annabelle would move fast. Dutch and Hosea would come for him, he just had to stay alive.

"Here we are!" one of the men laughed, pulling his horse to a stop.

"You boys get her?" a man said, the voice he dreaded hearing. Colm. "You fucking idiots, you were supposed to grab Annabelle. Who the fuck is that?"

"We couldn't get her alone, boss," the O'Driscoll goon said. Arthur was lifted off the horse and dumped on the ground as the O'Driscoll explained what happened during the attack, even mentioning Isaac. A hand wound into his hair and jerked his head up again as he hissed and blinked. Shit, he was going to cut off all his hair if he got out of this. "Brought you the next best thing."

"Well, well, well," Colm said, crouching down in front of him. His greasy, dark hair was starting to gray, and one of his rotting teeth had been removed, not that it helped his foul breath. "Arthur Morgan, Dutch's favorite son. Nice to see you again. But you are looking a little tired there. Somebody wake him up!"

A bucket of freezing water was upended over his head. He coughed and sputtered, shaking the water out of his eyes as he tried to scramble back. But Colm hauled him up by his bound arms, turning him around the circle to take in the eight men surrounding him and stopping him facing towards a small farmhouse in the middle of a huge, open field. In front of it was a six-foot deep hole in the dirt and the coffin next to it.

"See that?" Colm pointed and smirked. "That's going to be your grave. We need a new marker, though. The morons who took you can take care of that."

They'd already carved Annabelle's name into a cross.

"Now, since these fools didn't grab you quiet like I wanted, we won't have as much time for fun. But at least we won't have to send someone to deliver the message," Colm said.

"We rode in the river a bit, so it should at least slow them down," one of them men said.

Shit. Still, at least they wouldn't immediately kill him. He had time to come up with an escape plan.

"Seems Seamus here didn't completely ruin our fun," said Colm. The boys around him laughed when Colm slammed his fist straight into Arthur's stomach. He staggered and would have collapsed if two O'Driscolls hadn't heaved him back up. Colm punched him some more, then dragged him over to a table and slammed him into it.

"Your pal Dutch shot my brother," he whispered in his ear, keeping a hand on the back of his neck. "So I'm taking something from him. Eye for an eye, ain't that the saying? You know, Arthur, it doesn't have to mean I kill you. You can save your hide if you just join us. Decent gun like you could do well here, it would almost be a waste to let you rot in the dirt. Hell, you're a better shot than my brother ever was. All you got to do is lead us back to your camp so we can let Dutch know in person."

Colm probably expected only the women to be in camp, thinking it would be an easy target for robbery and murder while Dutch and Hosea were out searching for him. He didn't know about the two Callander boys they'd picked up. Between them, Susan, and John, these few O'Driscolls didn't stand a chance. But he wouldn't put his son in that kind of danger, wouldn't risk any of them, and he was relieved that Colm hadn't discovered their camp location while searching for Annabelle. "Your brother tried to steal our score and shoot a kid," Arthur snarled. "I'm glad Dutch put him down!"

"Oh, you boys and your sense of honor. Well, you'll soon join my brother," Colm said. "Have at it boys! We don't have long before we need to put a bullet in his skull and clear out!"

Arthur was yanked back off the table and thrown to the ground. The O'Driscolls aimed kicks at his ribs and head, and he couldn't protect himself still tied up as he was. The beatings left him dazed and drifting in and out of awareness, and the next bucket of water dumped over him did little to wake him up.

He didn't remember the O'Driscolls riding in the river, but then again he didn't remember much from the ride at all. Hosea would know what to do, know how to track them. He hoped Hosea would be able to find their trail again.

Bottles of liquor were opened and passed around. Perhaps they would get drunk, lose track of time, let him get away! But Colm wasn't participating, and he kept at least one man on top of the farmhouse with binoculars, watching for Dutch and the gang.

Dutch was coming, right? He had to be on his way. But what if he hadn't been in camp when Annabelle got back? What if he took off with the Callanders again? Or worse, decided that he was too disloyal for choosing to leave with his son in the winter. It wasn't like he wanted to leave Dutch, he just felt that he had to! Hosea knew that, Hosea would make Dutch come find him. But what if Hosea had gone out with Bessie?

"You see that hill up there?" Colm said to Arthur in one of Arthur's more lucid moments. "That's where we are going to watch when Dutch comes for you. Oh, I wish I could see his face up close when he finds the grave. But then we'd probably have a shootout on our hands. I wonder if he'll dig you up to be sure, or just move on."

Arthur couldn't do anything except wheeze. His ribs were on fire, surely a few were cracked if not broken.

"You ain't talking much, are you?" Colm laughed. "I remember you when Dutch first picked you up, always spitting and cursing. Why'd it have to come to this, huh? Why'd ol' Dutch have to cause all these problems. You're dying for him, you know that, right? You don't have to. My offer still stands. You can even bring that kid of yours. We'll turn him into a real gunslinger."

Colm slapped Arthur when he didn't respond.

"Come on now, don't be shy! Maybe some liquor will loosen your tongue!" Colm poured some of the whiskey on Arthur's face, cackling, then smashed the bottle next to his head.

Turning to his man on the farmhouse roof, he shouted, "See anyone coming?"

"Not yet."

"We shouldn't linger too long. Grab one last drink, boys, and we'll get this show on the road."

Dutch and Hosea weren't going to make it on time, and he was on his own. He didn't know how he could get away now, not after the barrage of beatings left him delirious, barely able to concentrate or even move with the shattered glass next to his head.

Wait… the glass… glass could cut through the ropes. He risked a glance at Colm and the others. They were standing around a barrel with drinks, toasting his upcoming demise. Distracted. This was it. His last and only opportunity to escape.

He shifted cautiously, trying to get his hands near the glass scattered around the grass.

"To the end of our truce with Dutch van der Linde," Colm said, raising his bottle. The roaring laughter echoed off the farmhouse.

Glass shards dug into his back and shoulder, but he managed to wriggle himself over to a large enough piece and grasp it in his hands.

"I wonder if Dutch will cry when he finds him," Colm continued. "He always was an emotional one. Caring so much about the poor, the orphans, picking them up and making them members of his gang."

It was difficult to use the glass on the ropes. He could only bend his wrist so far, only making short strokes along the thick rope.

"Almost tempting to wait around and duel him. It would be too easy after he sees what we've done. Think he'll be able to see through his tears?"

His fingers slipped, the glass slicing his palm. He grimaced, but didn't make a sound as he picked the glass back up and started again.

"But Dutch won't suffer if we kill him now. Who knows? This could break him, put him out of commission for good!"

He was getting close, but even still, how was he going to get across this open field without being spotted and shot? He needed a gun.

"Time to finish this." Colm took a shot of whiskey, then sauntered over to Arthur.

Not yet, please, he silently begged. He was so close.

Colm grabbed Arthur's chin and turned his head up. "Any last words?" he sneered.

The rope snapped.

Arthur head-butted Colm, causing him to stagger back with a shout. In the next moment, he surged up, swinging the glass and catching Colm in the face. But he didn't linger to inspect the damage. He pushed past the first drunk O'Driscoll, who had barely managed to respond, and rushed the one bringing up his shotgun.

"Shit! Someone grab him!" Colm shouted as Arthur grappled over the shotgun. His injuries made him weak, but he could get it! He could get it and shoot the lot of them, get back to camp and rest there.

The shotgun went off.

And his left leg exploded in pain.

Arthur screamed as he collapsed. The buckshot tore through him just above his ankle, ripping flesh and breaking bone. Arthur could barely lift his head to take in the bloody mess through spotted vision, nausea rising in his stomach as his whole body shook.

Colm marched up to him, holding his hand over his bleeding cheek. Arthur unfortunately missed his eye. "Got me good, Morgan. But not good enough." He leveled his pistol between Arthur's eyes. This was it.

Sorry, Isaac.

Bessie and Hosea would take care of him. They'd raise him right. Probably better than Arthur could, being an angry outlaw whose own father had been terrible. Bessie could move in with her sister, he was sure Hosea would join them in that case, find some sort of work. They'd help Isaac recover from his loss.

What would become of Dutch?

But then Colm grinned, and lowered the pistol. "You know what? Bullet in the head is too quick for you. I think you need to be punished, have some alone time to think on your actions."

He stood up and turned to the group. "Let's put him in the ground as he is!"

No, they couldn't mean…

His eyes darted around the O'Driscolls, their smiles wide with anticipation. He was brought back to Colm in front of him when the man tightened his green neckerchief above the gaping hole in his leg. "We don't want you bleeding to death, now do we?"

God, no, they wouldn't.

"We best leave something for Dutch so he knows exactly how his precious son died. I'm not counting on him noticing the scratches in that coffin."

"No, Colm, please," Arthur whimpered. He wasn't entirely sure what he was begging for.

"It's the consequences for trying to run, Morgan. Get him up, boys."

Hands dug under his shoulders and his legs, lifting him up.

"No, stop… don't…" He could barely struggle, exhausted as he was.

They shoved him into a too-small coffin. He tried getting his hands up, to brace against the edges and pull himself out, but the O'Driscolls kicked at his fingers.

"Sorry it's a bit cramped in there, Arthur. We had it sized for the lady, after all," Colm mocked. "Close it up!"

They slid the lid over the top. Weakly, he pushed against it, but they were already nailing it down.

"No," he cried. He could barely shift, his shoulders trapped against the sides.

They lifted the coffin up and lowered it in the hole. With his last bit of energy, he pounded on the lid.

Then the first clump of dirt hit the top.

Thump.

He was trembling, wheezing, already unable to pull enough air into his lungs. The coffin lid creaked, but held.

Thump. Thump.

Tears began to leak from his eyes as the last light visible through the tiny cracks in the lid disappeared. A little dirt joined him inside.

Soon, all noises stopped except for his own gasping. He was buried too deep. No light, the darkness drowning him. He couldn't find leverage to break the lid and dig his way out, there was no room to move. He clenched his eyes shut and sobbed. For how long, he did not know.

Dutch, Hosea, they'd want him to fight, to stay alive until they arrived. They'd find him, he just had to hold on.

Isaac needed him to hold on.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't lay there as the seconds crawled on, terrified and alone, his leg burning and ribs throbbing, waiting for rescue or suffocation.

Tears ran down his face as he let the pain drag him to sleep.

Chapter Text

Dutch sat on the edge of camp, smoking a cigar and thinking. Normally, he'd smoke his pipe, but he was out of tobacco. Half a speech was already written on his page, but he'd hit a wall. This had to be perfect. Arthur needed to understand why staying mattered. Their purpose, their future… yes, Arthur had been through a big change, but they could find a balance. If he left…

He didn't want to imagine the gang without Arthur.

"Can I get a light?"

Dutch turned, quickly folding the paper to hide it from Bessie, but she just laughed.

"Calm down, I know you write out your speeches in advance. So, that light?"

Sighing, Dutch struck a match and lit the cigarette in her hand. She sat down on the log with him, silently gesturing for the paper. He rolled his eyes, but he gave it to her. A few lines applied to her, too.

"Ah, loyalty," she said almost immediately. "You know, if Arthur had a problem with loyalty, it wouldn't be so difficult to convince him to leave for a while."

"If you and your husband had any loyalty, this wouldn't be a problem at all," Dutch shot back.

"Arthur would do anything you ask, Dutch. He'd lay down his life for you, for Hosea, for John, for any of us. He loves this family, and he loves you. If you walked up to him and begged him to stay, he would."

"Then why are you trying to stop me?"

"Because there are certain times you shouldn't ask," Bessie said. "Tell me something, Dutch. Do you love Arthur?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I love Arthur. He is my son!"

"But is that enough? There's a third option, you know. What if Arthur stayed here, and didn't work jobs?"

"Folk need to do their share, you know."

"I know, I'm not saying he sit around and do nothing," she chuckled. "Arthur could do chores, go hunting, stand on guard duty. He could scope out places to rob, see what kind of security they've got. I know Arthur likes working jobs with you boys, but I think he's starting to realize how bad that could be for Isaac. What I'm saying is, if Arthur never robbed another rich fool or held up a stagecoach or walked into a bank, would having him here be enough?"

Dutch wanted to say yes, immediately and without question. But the word got caught in his throat, and he sat gaping, like a fish still confused that the worm came with a hook. He couldn't picture a life with Arthur where he didn't participate in robberies. Arthur was an excellent shot, an intimidating presence, a source of strength. An outlaw, that's who he was.

But Arthur was also a father. Responsible for a young boy who needed him. Who couldn't lose him.

"I'm serious, Dutch van der Linde," Bessie continued. "Could you have Arthur here, in this gang, and never ask him to work a job again?"

He had his answer. It sat heavy on the tip of his tongue. One word which would change him, change the gang, change all their lives going forward. For better? Maybe. Possibly for worse.

But before he could speak, the air around them exploded with a scream.

"DUTCH!"

"Annabelle?" he said, jumping up and turning towards the sound. Annabelle burst out of the trees, gasping for breath and holding Isaac to her chest. Her sleeve was torn, leaves and a twig caught in the hole, and the end of her dress was dragging in the mud.

"O'Driscolls attacked us on the road!" she cried. "Arthur got us out, but he stayed behind to hold them off!"

"Where?" Hosea asked, coming up next to them.

"Closer to town than here, along the trail. They wanted to take me to Colm, said they'd let Arthur and Isaac go, but-"

Dutch pulled Annabelle into a hug, mindful of Isaac pressed between them. He could feel her shaking, could hear Isaac crying. God, he'd been a fool! Of course Hosea was right, they should have run. Colm O'Driscoll wanted revenge for his brother, had waited for the perfect time, had gone after the woman he loved. And he wasn't about to let Colm hurt his son, so a second to hold her was all he gave himself. "We're going to get Arthur, I promise," he said to both Annabelle and the boy.

He kissed Annabelle on the forehead and released her. Bessie immediately took his place as Hosea ran for their horses. "Davey, John! Go on guard duty. Anyone comes through here that isn't us, shoot first and ask questions later. Mac, ride with us."

"I want to come with you," John protested. "I can help!"

"Guard the camp, son. That's the help Hosea and I need right now."

Mac fetched his Tennessee Walker as Hosea led Nero and Silver Dollar over to him and said, "Let's go!"

They mounted up and galloped out of camp, following the trail towards town. Dutch's heart raced. Each turn had him praying to see Arthur walking back to camp, laughing at having held off… how many O'Driscolls had attacked them? He should have asked before they left.

They found Rory and the wagon alone, the Suffolk Punch dancing nervously in the harness. Mac went to calm Rory and inspect the wagon for damage. Dutch was too focused on moving forward. If Arthur wasn't on his way back to camp, he had to be in the middle of a shootout. He strained his ears for gunfire, but the forest was silent.

It was Hosea who spotted it on the ground. "Hold up, Dutch," he said, leaping off Silver Dollar. He plucked the old gambler hat from where it lay trampled in the dirt, the brim torn, the rope unwinding. He handed it to Dutch, lips moving but not making a sound.

No.

"ARTHUR!" he shouted into the woods. He studied to ground more closely now. Blood. A few footprints. Several horse tracks leading off to the right, one in a different direction. Tracking was never a strong skill for him, but he knew enough.

Hosea followed the lone trail a few steps before sprinting. Ice slipped down Dutch's spine when he caught sight of the body just beyond the bushes. Hosea reached it, flipped it over on it's back, then turned away from it. Dutch slumped forward onto the pommel in relief. Not Arthur. Hosea would never turn his back on Arthur.

"They must have taken him," Hosea said, running back to Silver Dollar. "Annabelle said they were going to take her to Colm. We need to move!"

"Okay," Dutch said, eyes still on the ground as he formed a plan. "Mac, take that horse back and let everyone know what happened. Help keep them safe."

"You sure you don't want backup?" Mac asked. "If O'Driscolls took him, they probably want to draw you out."

"I know, but what choice do we have? If Colm has something to say, then he'll say it to me."

Mac understood. "Good luck," he said, hopping on the wagon.

"Lead the way," Dutch said to Hosea, slipping Arthur's hat into his satchel.

There was no doubt in Dutch's mind that Arthur had saved Annabelle from a horrible fate. Colm was vengeful. Dutch had witnessed what Colm could do to his own men, it was one of the many reasons Dutch separated himself from the other outlaw. And Dutch should have known better, should have prepared!

Just like Colm had prepared. The only reason he didn't get his intended target likely came down to Arthur's determination and skill. Would that skill be enough for Arthur to escape? To survive long enough for them to reach him?

He had to keep faith. Faith in Arthur, and faith in Hosea's tracking abilities.

His entire body jolted when he woke up. He tried to sit up, but his body was trapped. The world was too dark when he opened his eyes, and the musty smell of dirt and old wood invaded his nose.

Panic seeped into his bones, and he threw his limbs as far as they could move, inches if that. Moving his left leg proved to be a mistake, and he almost passed out again as his entire world spun and tilted despite him laying down. But he couldn't stop, he had to get out! He scrambled and clawed against the wooden boards even as the nausea grew in his stomach and crawled up his throat, until he turned his head as far as he could to avoid choking on his own vomit.

"Help!" he called out, the words caught in the box with him. "Dutch! Hosea!"

He was exhausting himself, but the idea of dying in here… he needed to get out. He didn't know if it was even possible.

"Please help," he begged, the quiet rasp barely reaching his own ears as his body gave up once more.

"Shit!" Hosea said on the other side of the river. He turned up and down the bank, desperately inspecting the ground.

"What's wrong?" Dutch asked. Their pursuit of Arthur and the O'Driscolls had been slower than Dutch would have liked. The riders were careful, picking the more confusing paths in difficult to see areas. Every time Hosea had to stop to double-check the tracks, Dutch's hands clenched tighter around the reins until there were deep marks in the leather.

"They must have ridden in the river, there's no trail on the other side."

"No," Dutch said, looking down at the gravel and dirt as if tracks would just magically appear. "No, dammit! What do we do? Hosea?"

"I don't-"

"What do we do?" Dutch shouted.

"Shut up! I'm thinking." Hosea looked up and down the river again, then said, "You ride upstream, I'll ride down. Make sure you are checking both sides, they might have doubled back. Three shots if you find the trail."

"Okay," Dutch nodded along. "Okay."

"We'll find it, Dutch. We'll find him," Hosea said.

"We have to." Dutch turned Nero up the river, riding in the middle so he could check both sides. It was taking too much time, he was moving too slow. But he was afraid that moving faster would cause him to miss the trail.

A minute passed, then ten, then twenty, then thirty. His hope waned the farther along he got with no sign of Arthur or the O'Driscolls' horses. Because all the time they'd traveled, he still hoped to find Arthur. His boy would appear from within the trees, on foot or on a stolen horse, tired but all smiles when he realized he was safe with his family again. They could patch him up and bring him home, and never let him out of their sights again. But there were no horses, no Arthur, no tracks leading to him, either. The distress was growing inside him, alongside the horrid realization that he was failing his son.

What if Colm decided to just kill him before Dutch could stop it?

Three shots rang out far down the river, and the flock of birds taking off gave him a location. He urged Nero into a gallop, the warhorse unfazed by the gunfire.

"Found it, Dutch!" Hosea called out. Silver Dollar pawed at the ground, picking up on his rider's anxiety.

"You sure?"

"Positive. Let's go!"

They moved faster now, it seemed the O'Driscolls had picked up the pace and were less concerned with leaving tracks. Whether that was good or bad, Dutch couldn't decide.

Was he awake? How could he know for sure? He didn't want to open his eyes to the cold, black void. Tears leaked past the closed lids against his will, not that it mattered. No one was going to find him.

How long would it take him to suffocate? How long had it been already? Each small breath he managed to get into his lungs did little to ease the dizziness encompassing his entire head. He coughed weakly. It didn't help.

He didn't want to fight anymore. Didn't want to try. He'd never be able to escape, he knew that.

Colm must have tied off his leg tight. Otherwise he would have bled to death by now. He almost wished Colm hadn't done that. Then he wouldn't have to lay here, trapped, alone, experiencing his death one agonizingly slow second at a time. Maybe it would be better just to bleed out, but even if he wanted to, he couldn't reach down to the green neckerchief to release it.

He couldn't even feel his leg anymore.

The tears kept sliding down his face as he prayed he wouldn't wake up inside this coffin again.

"Hold up," Hosea said at the tree line. "This could be a trap."

"Well, of course it is!" Dutch replied, frustrated. It was getting late. The sun would be setting within the hour, and their ability to track the O'Driscolls would be severely limited.

"Seriously, we need to be careful! Open field, single farmhouse. This is the first building we've come across. I don't know where else the O'Driscolls could have gone."

"We don't have a choice," Dutch said, and galloped across the field. He heard Hosea follow after him. Yet no gunshots met them across the open field, the house appearing to be abandoned.

But on closer inspection, Dutch noticed the broken liquor bottles, the fresh horse dung along the hitching posts. "They must have stopped here a while," Hosea said, echoing Dutch's thoughts. Hosea crouched down as Dutch frantically looked around the area for any tracks leading away. He noticed some just as Hosea sat up, his fingertips red from the patch of blood on the ground.

"We can't be far behind them," Dutch said.

"Why stop here, though?" Hosea got out his binoculars, scanning the horizon.

"Hosea, we don't have time! Arthur doesn't have time!" He refused to look at the blood.

"Someone's watching us on that hill," he said, pointing off in the distance and offering up the binoculars. Dutch took them, spotting the two riders.

"What the fuck are they playing at?" Dutch snarled. "If Colm wants to have words with me, then we'll have words." He went to grab Nero. This was going to end now, with Arthur safe and Colm dead.

"Wait," Hosea said. "Let's check around the house first. It doesn't make sense for Colm to lead us on a chase like this."

"Well clearly he is!"

"Dutch-"

"We need to go!" Dutch kicked an empty can across the field, turning his back to Hosea.

"They didn't just stop here to rest. They had a fucking party, and then they abandoned it! Why, Dutch?" Hosea went to the farmhouse door. "Look around outside. I'll be back in a minute. Don't you dare leave without me."

He almost did. Almost marched right to Nero and raced to that hill. He inspected the riders again. They were waiting for something, but what? For them to follow, or for them to find something? He breathed in deep and shaky, then set his eyes around the outside of the farmhouse. There were a few shovels, a rectangular patch of dirt that looked like it had been recently moved, a simple cross behind it.

Not just a cross. A grave marker.

Dutch didn't notice he was moving until halfway to the cross. It was right within the sights of the riders, a freshly dug grave. He didn't want to think… they couldn't be too late… Colm wouldn't…

But Colm would. He knew that.

He was close enough to read the words, the realization hitting him as he sank to his knees in the fresh dirt.

Arthur Morgan

Dutch choked, the sob caught in his throat. They killed him, Colm killed his son! His disbelief, slowly turning to sorrow, clashed with the rage building in his heart, leaving him frozen.

Distantly, he knew he should call for Hosea, but the words wouldn't come out. He wanted to scream, wanted to hunt Colm down, but he knew he couldn't. He needed to bring Arthur home.

There was a note tied to the cross. He didn't want to read Colm's gloating words, but he finally reached out and plucked the page from the cross and opened it.

Dig fast, Dutch. He's dying.

The words sunk in, their meaning punching him in the gut and spurring him to action. He scrambled, digging into the dirt with his hands. He found his voice, screaming towards the farmhouse, "HOSEA!"

Dirt flew in every direction, past his face, onto his clothes. He couldn't move enough of it.

The farmhouse door slammed open, Hosea running to join him. He slid to a stop at seeing the grave, a faint, "No," leaving his lips. "No, no, no."

"Hosea, they- they buried him alive!" Dutch shouted. "He's still alive!"

Hosea didn't question how he knew. He surged forward and joined Dutch in digging with his hands. But it was too slow, and seconds later Hosea sat up, looking around the farmhouse. "Keep going, I'm going to look for shovels."

"Hosea-"

"Keep going!"

As if he was going to do anything else, anything other than toss away the dirt between him and his boy one handful at a time. Too slow. He heard Hosea cursing behind him, but didn't turn to look. Finally, the man returned, pushing one of the shovels Dutch vaguely remembered seeing into his hands. He stood up, digging faster now but still not fast enough. It would never be fast enough, not while his son was trapped.

How long had Arthur been down there already? And how much longer could he survive? Dutch silently prayed that he wasn't too late. Because he honestly didn't know what he would do if he was.

After digging several feet down, his shovel finally hit something solid. He reached down, brushing aside the loose soil to see the top of a wood box.

"Arthur! Hold on, son, we're coming!"

"Here!" Hosea said, handing his knife to Dutch. "Make a small hole so he can breathe. We need to clear enough dirt to pull the whole box out. Careful, we don't know how he's positioned under there."

Dutch dug the knife into the wood, prying a small chunk out of it. "Can you hear me? Arthur?"

No sound came from the box.

Cold sweat trickled down his neck. He kept digging.

Thunk.

He didn't bother opening his eyes. It didn't matter, really. He wasn't even sure he was awake, or drifting as he had before. He didn't want to wake up.

Thunk.

"Arthur! Say something, please!"

Was that Dutch's voice? Sure sounded like him, distant and muffled. But it couldn't be. He was dreaming.

More scraping sounds, more heavy objects hitting the top of his prison. Someone else was shouting more, the words too faint to discern, but it sounded like Hosea. It was a pretty dream. Real pretty.

He was moving. More like the box he was trapped in was moving, and so he had to move too, powerless to stop it.

"Arthur!"

"Shit, this is nailed down tight. Get on this side."

Wood cracked, but he didn't have the energy to flinch at the sound, too loud in his ears. Didn't flinch at the light leaking through to his closed eyes. Didn't respond to the pained whisper that reached his ears.

"No. God, no."

Shaking hands dug under his shoulders, dragged him out of the box, and leaned him against someone. Fingers fluttered over him. Two pressed on his neck, trembling against the skin.

"I don't feel anything. Hosea, I…"

A head settled against his chest, a hand placed on his ribs. A second passed.

"He's breathing! His heart's beating. It's faint, but it's there, Dutch!"

"Oh, Arthur. Oh, my boy!"

"See if you can get him to come around. I've got to look at his leg."

Hands shifted once again, carefully cupping his face, trying to avoid the numerous bruises, thumb rubbing his cheek.

"Wake up, Arthur. You're safe now, we've got you. Please wake up."

He wanted to. More than anything, he wanted to open his eyes and see Dutch and Hosea. But he was still numb, dizzy, scared this wasn't real.

Then a hand touched his leg, setting it on fire.

He gasped, shocked when the air that rushed into his lungs was clean and pure. He coughed and choked, desperately pulling more in, each breath simply not enough. He leaned forward against the hands wrapped around him, finally hearing Dutch's voice loud and clear.

"That's it, son, that's good. Breath, in and out, okay? In and out," Dutch soothed again and again.

He slumped against Dutch's chest, trying to follow his instructions. Someone else crouched down next to him, and he heard Hosea say, "You're safe, Arthur. It's over, I promise. Can you open your eyes?"

Wheezing, he tried to do as Hosea asked. One eyelid twitched.

"You can do it, son. Please?"

Gradually, with much encouragement from Dutch and Hosea, his eyes slid open. Hosea was in front of him, blurry and unfocused against the fading light. A small whine escaped him, and Dutch hugged him tighter.

"We need to get him to a doctor," Hosea said. "His leg, it's bad, Dutch. He needs help."

Dutch nodded, then asked, "They still watching us?"

Someone was watching? Colm… Colm did this to him.

"Yeah, they are. You think they'll come after us?"

"They're pretty far away, they might not have seen him move. Let's wrap him in a blanket, so they think… he's pretty cold anyway."

He couldn't keep track of the activity around him, and let his eyes fall shut as Hosea and Dutch wrapped him from head to toe in a blanket. He groaned when Dutch and Hosea lifted him up, carrying him to a horse. Dutch's horse, he realized a second later, when the man mounted up behind him and hugged him close.

"Stay alive for me, okay? We're going to get you help, just keep breathing."

He managed to bring up a hand, his fingers curling around Dutch's sleeve. But the moving horse hurt his whole body, and he couldn't stop himself from slipping away.

Chapter Text

The ride back to Fort Collins was nerve-wracking. Hosea kept turning his head behind him to check for O'Driscolls, then back to Arthur, wrapped up tight in Dutch's arms. He hadn't seen Arthur move since they loaded him onto Dutch's horse, hadn't heard so much as a whimper or a groan, and he kept having to ask Dutch if Arthur was even still alive.

But they finally reached town, Hosea hopping off Silver Dollar first to help Arthur down. Their boy fell into their arms, though Dutch was quick to take all of Arthur's weight so that Hosea could run and yell for the doctor. Which he did, loud and desperate.

The doctor guided them to an exam table, immediately leaning over Arthur's left leg. "Is the leg the only injury?" he asked.

"We're not sure," Hosea said. "His hand is bleeding, and his ribs might be broken. Outlaws grabbed him, did all this."

"But the leg is the most life threatening," the doctor finished for him. "Was this from a shotgun?"

"I think so," Hosea replied. Considering how the leg was torn apart, what else could it be? He wasn't about to forget the sight anytime soon, after they finally pried the lid off the coffin. Hosea's heart stopped at the sight of Arthur's pale, tear-stained face in stark contrast with the bloody mass of broken flesh and bone, the only thing having kept him from bleeding out being an O'Driscoll's green neckerchief. "We didn't see it happen."

He turned to confirm his assumption with Dutch, but the man was red-faced and panting. "You okay?" Hosea asked.

Dutch waved him off, making a weak joke. "When did that tiny boy get to be so heavy?"

"Haven't had to carry him in a while, have we?" Hosea said, then gave the doctor his full attention once again.

The doctor frowned as he inspected the wound. "How long ago did this happen?"

"I don't know," Hosea said. "We found him… an hour ago, maybe?"

The doctor picked up a pair of forceps, pulling apart the skin and checking the damage. He picked out the first of many buckshots pellets, confirming the shotgun theory, but his frown increased with each hole he checked. Soon, he sat back, putting down his tools with a sigh.

"What is it?" Hosea asked.

"This won't be easy, so I will just say it. The damage is extensive. Besides the external injuries and torn blood vessels, the two main bones in his lower leg are broken in multiple places. Given the likelihood of recovery and risk of infection, I recommend the leg be amputated."

"What?" Dutch said, standing up from his chair, a hand hovering protectively over Arthur.

"I will make the cut just above where it's currently tied, so he can keep the knee," the doctor continued, unconcerned with Hosea and Dutch's appalled expressions.

"No," Dutch said, shaking his head. "You can't! You have to fix him!"

"Isn't there anything else you can do?" Hosea asked.

"Not with a good prognosis, no. Most folk have good mobility with prosthetic legs, if you are able to pay. I know a man in Denver who does excellent work."

Of course they would pay. If Hosea could get any words out, he would have told the doctor as much. He looked at Arthur, so still and unresponsive. He knew what he needed to say, as the doctor pressed him for an answer. He just wished he could ask Arthur, first.

Dutch turned on the doctor. "No, you can't! You won't."

"Dutch-"

"You're not touching him!" Dutch shouted, stepping between the doctor and Arthur. "Help me get him up, Hosea. We're going to find a real doctor, not this hack!"

"Leave here with him, and he will die," the doctor said bluntly.

"Are you threatening my boy?" Dutch asked, shrugging off Hosea's attempts to pull him aside and placing a hand on his revolver.

The doctor remained undaunted by Dutch's anger. "I'm stating a fact. The risk of infection is high, and the longer you wait, if you move him, the more likely it will develop and spread to the rest of his body. And if- if by some miracle he survives that, the bones won't heal correctly. The lower portion of both his tibia and fibula are shattered. Entire fragments are out of place or missing. It's a miracle that shotgun didn't blow the leg off entirely. I doubt he would ever walk again, and he'd be in pain for the rest of his life."

"You're wrong," Dutch said.

"No, I'm not." The doctor was not going to back down. And neither would Dutch if Hosea didn't do anything.

"Dutch," Hosea said, placing a hand gently on Dutch's chest. "I don't like it, either, but let's talk about it."

"What's there to talk about? We're not doing it!"

"So we're just going to let Arthur die?"

"He's not going to die! I… he…" Dutch stammered. "He wouldn't want this."

"We don't know that," Hosea said, sliding between Dutch and the doctor.

"He'll hate us," Dutch said, watery eyes meeting Hosea's.

"He won't," Hosea stated firmly. Though he honestly didn't know what Arthur would think when he woke up. "Maybe at first, but not forever. We're going to help him through it. Every step of the way."

"Of course," Dutch nodded. "Of course we will."

Hosea waited a few seconds to see if Dutch would protest more, but instead Dutch looked resigned. Taking a deep breath, Hosea said, "Do it."

The doctor began preparing his tools and cleaning his hands. Dutch went to Arthur's side, picking up his hand and whispering reassurances and apologies in his ear. Hosea took his position at Arthur's shoulder. The doctor raised an eyebrow at them and cautiously said, "You might want to leave. This won't be pleasant."

"We're staying," Dutch said. Hosea agreed.

The doctor considered his shelf of medicines and pain killers for a moment before selecting a bottle. "I don't want to give him anything too strong, considering how much blood he's already lost. Hopefully this will keep him down, but be ready to brace him, just in case." His assistant soon joined him, took one look at the saw, then slid a bucket next to Hosea and Dutch.

"In case you need to… you know," the young man said.

Hosea stomach turned at the first draw of the saw over Arthur's shin, barely managing not to throw up. He couldn't keep himself from glancing at Arthur's leg, and instantly regretted it. The doctor worked quickly, but it seemed as if an eternity passed before he dropped the limb in a bucket with a heavy thud.

He was glad that Arthur stayed unconscious for the entire procedure. He stroked Arthur's hair as the doctor bandaged him up, whispering soft encouragement into his ear. Dutch was hunched over, his face green, trying very hard to breathe through his nausea while still clutching Arthur's hand.

"You okay?" Hosea asked.

"I'm fine."

"That should do for now. We'll monitor him tonight, make sure there are no complications. Now, you said there were injures to his hand and ribs?" the doctor said.

"Yes," Hosea said, picking up Arthur's right hand so the doctor could see his palm. "I never got your name, sir."

"Doctor Jones."

"Hosea."

Doctor Jones paused over the rope burns on Arthur's wrist. "The sheriff's office is right down the street, if you want to report those outlaws."

"We'd prefer… not to involve the law," Hosea said carefully.

"Ah. I won't say anything. Doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Thank you."

Looking back at Arthur's slack face, Hosea didn't want to leave him. But someone needed to go back to the gang and tell them what happened, and Dutch seemed to be in no condition to ride. Not that Hosea was doing much better, but at least he was talking. Dutch barely acknowledged the stiff drink the assistant shoved into his hands.

"I'm going to check on everyone, and let them know that we found Arthur. You okay staying here until the morning?"

"Of course," Dutch said, still a little shaky. "I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, regardless."

"Neither am I."

It was a long ride back. There was little light along the trail, and Hosea was aware of every gust of wind and snapped twig. He jumped at Miss Grimshaw's challenge as he approached camp, barely managing to answer it.

Miss Grimshaw looked past him expectantly, stiffening as she realized he was alone. Hosea quickly said, "They're at the doctor's. Arthur's alive, but he's hurt bad, Susan."

"Mr. Van der Linde is with him?"

"Of course."

"You go tell the others. They're all waiting around the fire. I'll keep us safe tonight."

Every head turned to Hosea when he entered the camp. He could read the fear and uncertainty on each face. "We got Arthur," he immediately said again. "He's alive, but he needed a doctor."

Annabelle burst into tears, falling into Bessie. "Will he be okay?" she asked.

"I think so," Hosea said. "Dutch is staying with him tonight."

Isaac hopped off Bessie's lap and walked up to Hosea. "Is Pa coming back?" he asked.

Hosea crouched down and placed a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "We'll know more tomorrow. I'm hoping we can bring him home, but it depends on what the doctor says."

Isaac nodded, his lip trembling. He threw his arms around Hosea's neck.

Hosea returned the hug, letting the young boy cry out all his emotions on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Isaac. Your pa is safe now. Dutch and the doctor will take good care of him."

After Isaac began to quiet, Hosea handed him to Annabelle. "Can you take him tonight?"

"Yeah, I've got him," she said, and carried him back to her tent.

Bessie took Hosea's hand and led him towards their own tent. Before they reached it, John asked, "Did you kill those O'Driscolls?"

"No. They, uh, left Arthur for us to find."

"Oh."

"It'll be okay, John. Once Arthur is back with us, we'll move camp, get ourselves safe. We might have to ask you to go on guard duty a little more often until we do."

"I can do that," John said.

"That's my boy!" Hosea said, smiling and patting John on the shoulder.

But as soon as he entered his tent, he collapsed into Bessie. "Talk to me," she said, rubbing his back through his sobs. "What happened?"

And Hosea told her everything, sparing no detail from the realization that Arthur had been taken, to digging up his coffin, to the decision they had to make.

"Arthur's strong," said Bessie. "He'll be okay."

He hoped she was right.

"Sleep," she said. "Things will be better in the morning."

Hosea didn't think it was possible with the tightness in his chest, but he soon fell asleep in her arms.

Three days.

It took three days for things to get better.

He returned to the doctor's office early to an argument between Dutch and Doctor Jones. Arthur developed a fever overnight, and a series of cold compresses and medicine hadn't stalled its attempts to drag Arthur from the world. His son gasped and sweated, but barely moved a muscle. Dutch blamed the doctor for his recommendation to amputate, and Hosea kicked him out with an order to rest at camp and come back at night.

He knew enough medical information to understand that fever was often a reaction to trauma and not necessarily a deadly infection. And Arthur had gone through plenty of trauma. Still, it was unnerving to sit beside Arthur so weak and sick.

When the sun started to set, Dutch showed up to relieve him. It was harder to leave that time. His joints were stiff from sitting in the same chair all day, but each step away from Arthur hurt more, and the desire to turn Silver Dollar around almost overwhelmed him.

Isaac ran up to him as soon as he returned. John did, as well. "Your pa needs to stay with the doctor a little longer," he said to Isaac. John got a better explanation, since Bessie and then Dutch told the camp about Arthur's leg.

The next day wasn't better. Doctor Jones looked at Hosea with pity as he checked on Arthur. Every moment, Hosea worried Arthur would slip away right in front of his eyes.

"Come back, Arthur," he pleaded with his son. "I know you can survive this. Please don't give up."

Arthur's fever raged on. Hosea kept wiping down his forehead and neck with a damp rag, though it did little to alleviate the heat coming off his skin.

That night, he truly wondering if Arthur would still be alive when he returned. Thankfully, Arthur not only survived the night but also showed improvement. His breathing eased from a shallow wheeze to something calmer and smoother. But Dutch wasn't alone. John was curled up on a chair, awake but leaning onto Dutch's jacket as a pillow.

Hosea hadn't even noticed that John and Moose were missing from camp. He must have been more tired than he thought.

"Sorry!" John said, jumping up. "I didn't mean to leave camp, it's just… I saw Isaac trying to sneak out to see Arthur and I promised him I'd go instead!"

"It's okay," Hosea said. "I'm not mad, but it's not safe to go anywhere alone right now. We don't know if the O'Driscolls are planning anything else."

"I know," John said.

"Go easy on him, Hosea. I told him the exact same thing," Dutch said. Bags had formed under Dutch's eyes, and his hand shook slightly. "Arthur's fever is lower and his breathing sounds better, so at least there's something good to tell Isaac."

"I should have spent a little more time with Isaac," said Hosea. Annabelle and Bessie took care of him the majority of the time, but they could only answer his questions to a point. They hadn't actually seen Arthur, either, and they were just as worried.

"It's not your fault. I don't want to give him bad news or no news, either."

"See you tonight?"

"Yeah. Come on, John. Let's get back to camp. I think we could both use some rest."

Hosea took up the vacated chair and Arthur's hand. "How are you, Arthur? Feeling better?"

Arthur kept sleeping.

The assistant, Phil, stopped by to keep Hosea company when he arrived for the day. After chatting for a while and discovering they both shared a love of crime stories, Phil gave Hosea a magazine from England featuring a new detective series. Memories of when Arthur first joined them filled Hosea as he read the words aloud. Their son was never keen to share the subject of the nightmares that stole hours away from his sleep, but he never denied the companionship they freely gave. Hosea and Dutch often read him books to get him back to sleep, and Arthur confessed to Hosea one day that he always preferred Hosea's books to Dutch's.

He hoped the words were bringing Arthur comfort now.

"Alright, Arthur, we're onto chapter three now. The Lauriston Garden Mystery! 'I confess that I was considerably startled by this fresh proof of the practical nature of my companion's theories. My respect for his powers of analysis increased wondrously. There still remained some lurking suspicious in my mind, however, that the whole thing was a pre-arranged, intended to dazzle me, though what earthly object he could have in taking me in was past my comprehension.'  Now, there's a con idea, Arthur! But I think this Sherlock Holmes might be genuine." Hosea took a second to rub his eyes and take a sip of water. If he read all day, he was going to lose his voice. He glanced up at Arthur, fully expecting his boy to still be sleeping.

But Arthur's eyes were open and on him.

"Arthur?" Hosea said, sliding from his chair to the bed. He squeezed Arthur's hand, and tears began building in his eyes when Arthur gave a gentle squeeze back.

"'sea," Arthur croaked. Hosea grabbed a cup of water, and supported Arthur's head when he was unable to lift it himself.

"You're going to be just fine, you hear me? Just fine."

Arthur coughed, then with a small smile on his face, asked, "What did I do this time?"

Hosea couldn't answer, letting the tears fall as he cupped Arthur face in his hands. Arthur's eyes narrowed in confusion, his brow creased. In the next second, he tensed up, his eyes going wide and his breathing suddenly harsh as fear overtook him.

Hosea was quick to reassure him, saying, "You're safe now, okay? You're safe. We got you out. It's over."

Arthur tried pushing himself up. He raised himself an inch before he shuddered and collapsed.

"We got you out, Dutch and I, and we're going to keep you safe. I promise."

Arthur's eyes darted around the room. "Where…" he managed to get out.

"You're at the doctor's office, okay? Just breathe."

Arthur did, rapid and shaky. He met Hosea's eyes and whispered, "You found me?"

Hosea was almost overcome with sobs. "Yeah, we found you. Just in time, too. Annabelle got back and let us know about the attack, and we came looking as fast as we could."

"Anna… she had Isaac."

"Anna and Isaac are just fine. They're at camp. It's been a few days. Dutch and I have been taking turns sitting with you."

"I remember… I think… Dutch was there," Arthur said.

"That he was. He's going to be very happy to see you."

Arthur was starting to blink heavily. "My leg feels funny."

"I know," Hosea said. "Are you in pain?"

"No, it's just funny."

"Alright, but please let me know if it starts hurting. We're going to take care of you. Just rest." He stayed sitting on the bed as Arthur finally relaxed, placing a hand on his forehead. Arthur's fever was nearly gone. They were almost out of the woods, though he'd confirm with the doctor once Arthur was settled.

"Hosea?"

"Yeah, son?"

"Keep reading?"

He would never deny that request. When Arthur's barely open eyes found his, tired and clouded from days of fever and fatigue but begging for the sound of Hosea's voice, he almost broke down. Instead, he picked up the magazine and said, "Of course. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. 'When I looked at him he had finished reading the note, and his eyes had assumed the vacant, lack-lustre expression which showed mental abstraction.'"

Arthur shuffled closer to Hosea, and soon Hosea was laying on the bed next to him, an arm around his shoulders. Hours later, Hosea's voice was hoarse, but Arthur was calm. He stirred a few times, but mostly he slept. Doctor Jones came in to change Arthur's bandages and assured Hosea that everything was improving.

"Here is the address of my colleague who makes prosthetic legs," Doctor Jones said.

"Thank you."

"He won't be able to fit him for it until the area is healed. It will be a month, at least, but I can give you a pair of crutches in the meantime, once he starts getting his strength back."

Hosea ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. "I don't know how he's going to handle this."

"It will take time. But you two are incredibly supportive, I'm sure you will see him through."

"We will."

"I want him to stay here tonight, just to be safe. You should be able to take him home tomorrow."

The door opened, and Dutch's heavy footsteps dragged down the hall. Doctor Jones slipped out of the room to give Dutch and Hosea some privacy as Dutch entered and stumbled to the bed while saying, "How's Arthur?"

"He woke up!" Hosea said, his smile spreading wide.

That got Dutch's attention, his jaw-dropping as he crossed the last few steps. Hosea slid off the bed to give Dutch the space, and Dutch took Arthur's hand, just staring at his son.

"Is he alright?"

"I think so. He remembered some of what happened, but I was able to calm him down."

Dutch wasn't trying to wake Arthur up, but he stirred anyway. "Oh, son. Arthur, my boy, you're okay!" Dutch cried, lifting Arthur close to him. Arthur actually raised his arms to hug Dutch back, burying his head in Dutch's neck.

"Dutch?" he muttered.

"I'm here. You feeling okay?"

Arthur frowned. "What's wrong with my leg?"

Dutch lowered him back down, a hand lingering on his shoulder. Hosea and Dutch exchanged a look.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

“Son, I’m-I’m sorry,” Dutch stuttered.  “You were hurt bad, and we, well we-”  Hosea went to jump in, but Dutch pulled back the blankets off Arthur’s left leg.  Arthur’s breath hitched, and he crushed Hosea’s hand as he took in the amputated limb, bandages wrapped from his knee to partway down his calf.

"Breathe, son. It's going to be okay," Hosea said.

"What- how- how will I-"

"Shh, you're alright." Hosea shifted behind Arthur, encouraging him to lean back.

"But how will I- if I can't- I don't-"

"We'll help you," Dutch said, getting on Arthur's other side. "Anything you need, we'll help you. You're not alone."

"But why?"

"It was seriously damaged and never would have healed right," Hosea said, rubbing Arthur's back. "There is a good chance of you walking with a wooden leg, a much better chance than if you'd kept the leg, actually."

"I know this is difficult, and I'm sorry," Dutch continued. "We'll get you through this, I promise."

Hosea and Dutch stayed with Arthur until his panic subsided, likely due to lingering exhaustion than actual calmness. "I think we could all use a little rest," Hosea said. "Dutch will stay with you tonight, and I'll be back tomorrow with a wagon to bring you home, okay?"

"Okay."

Arthur closed his eyes as soon as he settled back onto the pillow. Hosea smoothed out the blankets and tucked them around Arthur. “You couldn’t have handled that better?” Hosea huffed.  Dutch had the decency to appear mildly ashamed.

Hosea relayed a lot of what the doctor told him about recovery and options. At the end, Dutch gave a dry chuckle. "I guess we're not making it over the mountains before winter."

"Probably not. New Austin it is, after Denver."

"And Arthur?"

"We'll ask him what he wants to do. Once he's had a little more time."

"Do you think… I know the doctor said he'll be able to walk, but…"

"If anyone can do it, it's Arthur." Hosea got up and stretched. "I'll be back first thing tomorrow with a wagon. Have a good night, Dutch."

"Good night, Hosea."

They had a rough few days, weeks, probably months ahead of them. But Hosea was determined to see Arthur through it.

Chapter Text

The adults were lying to him. Isaac knew all the signs. They whispered to each other, glanced at him, dodged his questions, promised that they would have news soon but soon never came.

Cried when they thought he wasn't watching.

Even Copper knew something was wrong. The dog jumped up whenever Hosea and Dutch returned to camp, but flopped back down with a sigh whenever his pa wasn't with them. Isaac often sat with him, still waiting, still wondering.

"When is Pa coming home?" he asked Aunt Bessie after Uncle Hosea left camp again. He wanted to ask Dutch, because Dutch actually saw his pa, but Aunt Anna immediately dragged him off to his tent. Bessie told him not to disturb Dutch when he was in his tent.

"When he's feeling better," Bessie said.

"But why isn't he feeling better?"

Bessie sat down and put a hand on his shoulder. "You remember what I told you about those men? They hurt your father."

"The bad men?"

"That's right. Your father needs to rest for a while so he can heal, and a doctor has to watch him to make sure he heals right."

"But why would the men hurt him?" Isaac asked. "Were they robbing him?"

"No, sweetie. They were mad at Dutch, and they wanted to kidnap someone he cared about to scare him. They tried to take Anna, but your father wouldn't let them."

It didn't really make sense to Isaac. Why did they hurt his pa if they were mad at someone else? It wasn't fair! Not that he wanted something to happen to Dutch. He didn't really know Dutch that well. Dutch usually stayed in his tent with a book or went riding with Mac and Davey. He was always on the move, as his ma would say. But whatever the bad men did to his pa, it did scare Dutch.

How hurt was his pa? Because when people got hurt real bad, they died.

Just like his ma.

Which was why, as another day passed with more quiet conversations and tears, Isaac knew they were lying to him. It was just like when Mama died. Mabel and Jim wouldn't tell him what was going on, they just kept promising to let him know soon. His pa was the one who told him the truth, but he wasn't here now! He'd just have to go see Pa himself. Everything was always in town: stores, post offices, doctors. And Pa took him to town, it was just down the trail. But it was so far, so he needed to borrow a horse.

But which one? Bo was Pa's horse, and the only horse he'd ever ridden. But Bo was tall! He knew Rory well, too, but Rory only pulled the wagon. Daisy was smaller, but she was John's horse, wasn't she? John had two horses.

It was probably best to take a horse he knew. He could lead her next to a wagon and climb on from there. He waited until night, when Hosea got back and went to talk with Bessie and Anna. They would never let him go alone, so he needed to sneak out while they were distracted.

"Hi, Bo!" he said to the horse. She perked her ears at Isaac, and he held out a peppermint for her. When she lowered her head to eat, he slipped a simple rope halter over her head. "Do you miss Pa, too?"

Bo snorted as if to say yes, and followed Isaac back over to the wagon. He climbed on top of the wagon, but Bo sidestepped away, eying him suspiciously.

"Come on, stay still!" Isaac said, hopping down to put Bo back into position. This happened several times before Isaac was finally able to pull himself onto Bo's back, grasping a chunk of mane for support.

He gave Bo a small kick on the sides. "Let's go, Bo!"

Bo did nothing.

"Come on, giddy-up!"

Bo heaved a giant sigh and began grazing.

"What are you doing?" a voice called from the trees. Isaac gasped and almost toppled off Bo. Would have, if he hadn't grabbed Bo's neck.

"Go away!" Isaac said.

John walked over, gaping at Isaac on the horse. "Uh, what are you doing, kid?"

"I'm going to see Pa, and you can't stop me!"

John reached for Isaac, and Isaac tugged on Bo's makeshift reins to get her moving. She did, at a leisurely walk, before putting her head back down for more grass.

"Arthur wouldn't want you going out by yourself," John said. "You don't even know how to ride a horse."

"But I have to go! They won't tell me anything, they- they're lying to me." Isaac started to cry as the thought occurred to him. "Is Pa… dead?"

"No! No, he's not dead," John said, quick to reassure him.

"So you've seen him?"

"No."

"So how do you know he's not dead?" Isaac asked, hiccuping between words.

"Hosea and Bessie wouldn't lie to us about that," John said. "Art- your pa is alive."

John seemed confident, but Isaac didn't know John very well. He tended to keep to himself. He didn't have a reason not to believe John, but he was still scared.

He was so tired of being scared.

He missed Mama, missed the house he grew up in, missed his neighbors. But he knew Pa loved him and cared for him, but what if Pa never came back! What would happen to him?

"Are you coming down?" John asked.

"No. I want to see Pa."

"I can't let you leave, I- you got to- what if you got lost? How about this. Since I haven't seen your pa either, I'll go to town. And then I can tell you what's going on. That good?"

Isaac considered John's offer. He only went to town once, and what if he got lost like John said? What if those men came back? "You promise you won't lie?" Isaac said.

"I promise. Now come down."

Isaac looked over Bo's side and said, "It's too high!"

"Okay." John awkwardly lifted Isaac off Bo's back and set him on the ground. "You aren't going to try sneaking out again, are you?"

"I won't."

"Okay. See you soon, I promise."

Isaac watched John lead Moose away from camp, and then Annabelle called him over to go to bed. He tried staying awake, determined to be there as soon as John returned, but then his eyes blinked open to the sunrise.

And John still wasn't back.

"Has anyone seen John?" Davey asked. "He's supposed to take over guard duty."

"No, I haven't," Bessie said, looking around the camp. "He's not in his tent. And Moose isn't here!"

Isaac ducked his head down, feeling butterflies in his stomach. John was missing guard duty because of him. Would they be mad? Should he say something?

But Bessie, Susan, and Anna were really scared, so in a quiet voice he said, "John went to see Pa."

Susan turned to Isaac and said, "John went to town? Why?"

Isaac didn't like Susan's tone. She sounded angry with him. But Isaac was a bit angry, too. Angry at the lies. "Because no one will tell me what's wrong with Pa! I want to know, so John said he'd check for me."

Susan's eyes narrowed, her face getting red, but Bessie stepped in first. "Sweetie, we told you. Your pa is hurt and isn't feeling well."

"But why isn't he getting better? It's been days!"

"Hey, I see John!" Davey said. "He's with Dutch."

A collective sigh of relief swept through the crowd. "John, why did you run off like that?" Susan shouted.

"Leave him be," Dutch said, and ignored her protesting to go straight to Isaac. "Hey, son. I heard you got questions about your pa."

Isaac nodded. "Is he okay? What's wrong with him? Why can't he come home?"

"He's feeling a bit better this morning. As for your other questions, that's a little harder to explain," Dutch said. "Your father's leg, well… it had to be amputated."

"What does that mean?"

"Your father's leg couldn't be fixed, not correctly anyway. It was safer to cut off the broken part."

"But why can't he come home?"

"Because amputating a leg is hard on the body. It can easily get infected."

"Infected?" Isaac asked.

"Right, that's when… the wound makes you sick. Hosea and I are worried your pa is going to get sick. That's why we're keeping him at the doctor's," Dutch said.

"Is he sick?" Isaac asked.

"He is a little sick. But your father is so strong, Isaac. I don't doubt he is going to fight his way through it and be well in no time."

John stepped forward. "I saw him, Isaac. Dutch is telling the truth, I promise."

Isaac threw his arms around John, much to John's surprise. "Thank you! Sorry I got you in trouble."

But John hugged Isaac back and said, "It's fine. Arthur has gotten me in way worse trouble, believe me."

"I have a feeling it was usually the other way around," Dutch said. "Now, why don't you let John go, Isaac. He hasn't gotten any sleep."

"Okay! Goodnight, John!"

He did receive a light scolding from both Susan and Bessie, though Susan seemed to be restraining herself. But it was worth it to know his pa was okay! And that night, when Dutch left to see his pa and Uncle Hosea came back, Uncle Hosea came right to him and said, "Your father can come home tomorrow!"

"Really? I can see him?"

"Really! But he's going to need a lot of rest, so we're all going to have to be a little patient and let him be sometimes. Think you can do that?"

"Yeah! I'm just so happy to see him!"

"Me, too," Hosea said, patting him on the shoulder. "Me, too."

Dutch woke up in a panic to a hand on his shoulder. "What? I'm awake. What's going on?"

Hosea laughed and said, "Well, I thought we'd take Arthur back to camp this morning, but if that disturbs your nap…"

Groaning, Dutch untangled himself from Arthur and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, it's just… he had a nightmare and I was trying to comfort him."

"And you fell asleep as soon as he did," Hosea finished with a knowing smile. "Arthur is fine, Dutch. He probably slept better having you next to him."

Of course Hosea understood. They used to take turns when Arthur first joined them and the horrible memories of his father and his years alone were still fresh in his mind. More often than not, they fell asleep in Arthur's tent, and they never once heard a complaint about it from the boy. And Arthur certainly wasn't complaining when Dutch gave him a gentle shake and said, "Wake up, Arthur. It's time to go home."

They went through the motions of thanking the doctor and assistant, received the last few pieces of advice on Arthur's care, and settled Arthur into the back of the wagon that had been lined with all the pillows and blankets in camp. Dutch sat with him while Hosea drove, keeping up a mostly once-sided conversation with a sleepy Arthur.

Copper knew immediately that Arthur was with them when they rolled into camp. He barked and raced around the horses, trying his best to jump in the back. "Could someone grab that damn dog!" Dutch shouted, and John jumped forward to hold back the excited coonhound.

"Pa is home! Pa is home!" Isaac shouted, also running to the wagon. Hosea scooped him up and brought him to Arthur, reminding the boy that Arthur was tired. But Hosea mostly left Isaac alone to crawl over to Arthur and give him a hug, one which Arthur readily returned.

"Are you okay, Isaac?" he asked.

"Yeah. Are you all better?"

"Not quite," Arthur replied, but he kept the frown off his face for Isaac's sake. "But better enough to be here, I guess."

"Alright, how about we get Arthur to his tent and sitting up, then we'll let Copper see him," Dutch said. "Before he dislocates John's shoulder."

John was already struggling to hold back Copper. The dog whined and lunged against his arms, searching for any gap to wriggle his way out. Dutch and Hosea moved Arthur onto his cot as fast as they could, barely getting Arthur settled before John lost his grip and Copper jumped onto Arthur's lap, licking his face. "Ugh, get off, Copper!" Arthur said, especially when the dog bounced against his ribs, but Copper began to settle when Arthur patted his head. "Yeah, glad to see you, too."

Dutch let Annabelle move in next, once they got Copper down from the cot. She wrapped Arthur up in a tight hug, crying as he reciprocated, "I'm so sorry, Arthur."

"It's okay."

"I just wish I could have done something."

"Ain't your fault," he said.

Isaac moved a little closer, studying Annabelle. "Why are you sad, Aunt Anna?" he asked.

"I'm not, I'm really happy," she said.

"But you're crying!"

"Sometimes when we are really happy, our eyes don't know what to do. So, we cry," she said, opening up one arm to let Isaac join the hug. He crawled onto the cot between them, hugging Arthur again.

Bessie, Susan, and John stayed off to the side of the tent, knowing that they'd get a turn eventually. Mac and Davey almost wandered off, saying that this was a family moment, but Dutch encouraged them to stay. They were part of the family now, especially after all they'd done helping to keep the camp safe for the last few days.

"We'll be moving the camp closer to Denver. Try to put some distance between us and Colm, and there's a man who makes wooden legs in the city. We are going to lay low while we are there, no need to stir up trouble until Arthur is taken care of," Hosea told them.

Dutch started to say, "Now I know this isn't what you boys signed up for…"

"We get it," said Mac. "You certainly take care of your folk, so we're sticking around."

"Yeah, Arthur's a good guy. I'm sure he'd do the same for us," Davey agreed.

"Thank you both," Dutch said. "Now, if you don't mind taking a trip, we have a new campsite to find."

Hosea shook his head. "Do that tomorrow, Dutch, you've been staying up all night for a few days now. Or I'll take them to Denver. I haven't had a chance to ride with them, yet."

"Alright."

"Go to bed, Dutch."

One last look at Arthur, being coddled by Annabelle, Susan, and Bessie, and Dutch was finally able to rest.

For the better park of a week, Arthur mostly slept. He slept through their move to a small, abandoned house just outside of Denver. He slept through the loud racket Susan caused when Copper chewed through her boot. He even slept through most of his visit to a new doctor to make sure the end of his leg was healing correctly.

When Arthur was awake, Annabelle could put on a smile for him and keep him company. But when he was sleeping, the guilt crept back into her, a constant, nagging reminder that it shouldn't be Arthur stuck in that bed. It shouldn't be Arthur worrying about whether or not he would walk again.

"I need you to give me a shooting lesson," she said to Dutch one morning.

"Why? You know how to use a pistol," he said.

"Yes, but I just can't help but wonder… maybe if I was more confident with it or had something more powerful…"

"But you said there were too many O'Driscolls to hold off."

"For me, yes," she said. "I've heard the stories you and Hosea tell. If one of you had been there, they never would have gotten Arthur!"

"You don't know that! Besides, you were looking after Isaac."

"I could have gotten Isaac behind some cover and gone back!"

"If something happened to that boy, I don't think Arthur would ever forgive himself."

"But Colm was after me!" she said.

"Anna," Dutch said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's not your fault."

Annabelle sighed and nodded. "I know."

"If anyone here is to blame, it's me. I killed his brother."

"Don't you dare!" she said. "Connor started this when he broke the truce. But that doesn't mean I can't be more prepared."

Dutch almost argued again, then stopped himself. He grabbed a few boxes of ammo from their wagon and a new gun. "Here. We'll start with a Lancaster Repeater. It's not as powerful as a rifle, but it fires fast with fourteen rounds between reloads. Let's find some empty cans."

"How are you, honey?" Bessie asked as she walked into his room. Arthur was awake, well, his eyes were open. His face was blank, and he was holding the tattered remains of his gambler hat in his hands. Bessie wanted to take the hat and see if she could restore it, or at least make it wearable, but Arthur hadn't let go of it since Dutch gave it back to him the day before.

"It's a nice day out," Bessie continued, pulling back the blankets. "The sun is shining, there's a nice breeze off the mountains. How about we get you up and out of this bed for some lunch?" She picked up the pair of crutches and held them out to Arthur. "You haven't given these a try, yet. No better day than today!"

Arthur stared at the crutches, indifferent.

"Come on, it might make you feel better to be up and outside," she said.

"Bessie, I'm tired, and I'm not even that hungry," Arthur said.

While Bessie knew that Arthur needed lots of rest initially for healing, she suspected his constant fatigue now had other causes. Nightmares, for one. Hosea tried encouraging Arthur to talk about what happened with the O'Driscolls, but Arthur always clammed up. "You know what happened," he'd say, as if he could ignore the memories and one day they would just go away. He needed to process it. Otherwise, he'd never be able to move on.

Or accept what came about because of it.

But now wasn't the time to force Arthur to open up. It was lunchtime, and she fully intended to force Arthur out of bed.

"Isaac would be very happy to see his father out of bed," she stated as the final argument.

"Fine," he grumbled, swinging his legs over the side and sitting up. He carefully positioned his right leg under himself. Bessie hauled him up and supported him while he got the crutches under his arms. She let Arthur set the pace, keeping nearby in case he became dizzy from finally standing up but not so close that he could complain about her hovering.

"See? A nice day," Bessie said as she got Arthur settled on one of the porch chairs. "Want to prop your leg up?"

"Sure."

Bessie slid a pillow onto a second chair, and Arthur put his left leg up, still avoiding looking at it. "Stay here, I'll bring you some soup."

They ate slowly. Arthur watched Isaac sitting with Mac, Davey, and John at a table. "They teaching Isaac poker?"

"No, it's just a card matching game," Bessie laughed.

"That's good."

Davey looked over at the house and waved at Arthur. Isaac also noticed Arthur was outside, and immediately abandoned his cards. "Pa! You're not sleeping!"

"No, I'm not sleeping right now," he said.

"You should play with us!"

"Maybe another time, Isaac," he said.

Isaac's face fell. "Oh, okay."

Bessie glanced at Arthur. "Your father is just getting his lunch, Isaac. How about you show him the game later?"

"Okay, see you later, Pa," Isaac said, and went back to playing.

Bessie smiled at him. "I know this is tough, but I think spending time with Isaac will be really helpful. I know he will appreciate it."

"There just ain't much I can do," Arthur said.

"Spending time is something."

"It's not enough," Arthur sighed. "Can't work, can't make money, it's not like I can stay here or go to your sister's ranch."

"No one is kicking you out, Arthur. You always have a place here, I promise."

Arthur stared out into the field, eyes blank. "I've got one foot, Bessie."

"For now, but you'll have a second one soon. It will just be made of wood. I know it will take some time, but you'll figure out how to use it. I promise."

Arthur turned to look at her, and Bessie had a sudden surge of hope that she'd gotten through to him. But he said, "I think I'd like to go back inside."

"That's fine. But let's try to get some fresh air every day, okay?"

"Okay."

Arthur moved gingerly back inside. Bessie kept more distance this time, hoping a little independence would give Arthur a boost of confidence. But she wasn't sure that it would.

Hosea was awake at the first whimper. He sat up from his cot next to Arthur's bed, confused and blinking in the mostly dark room. The lantern must have burned out some time during the night. Still, he'd worry about that later, once Arthur was sleeping soundly again. Part of him was glad to not have a light. Otherwise, he'd be tempted to check his pocket watch to see just how little sleep he'd gotten since Arthur's last nightmare.

Of course, on the rare occasion that Arthur remained settled long enough for Hosea to rest, his own memories of finding Arthur in that coffin tortured him.

"Hey, Arthur, it's okay," he said, blindly reaching for Arthur's hand in a routine he'd kept up for several nights now. He missed, bumping into Arthur's face, and decided to run his fingers through Arthur's hair instead.

Big mistake.

A wounded shriek escaped Arthur's lips. He scratched and clawed against Hosea's attempts to calm him down. Hosea reeled back when Arthur kicked out with his legs, swinging them over the side of the bed and trying to stand up evenly on two feet. He toppled into the nightstand with a heavy crash, stunned for only a brief moment before he scrambled into a corner.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Dutch appeared in the doorway, quickly followed by Annabelle, Bessie, and Susan. Dutch tried to approach Arthur, holding his lantern aloft, and Hosea finally got a good look at Arthur's glassy, distant eyes, his pupils blown wide in terror.

"Stay back, Dutch," Hosea said. "Let's give him a little space."

He could tell it pained Dutch to stay back, but he obeyed. Everyone stayed quiet. The only sound that filled the room was Arthur's short, frantic gasping as Hosea whispered his name and slid a little closer to Arthur. But another cry had him freezing again.

More footsteps came down the stairs, the soft pattering of Copper's paws and the heavier thumps from John. Susan went to intercept them, but Copper was fast, slinking into the room and sniffing Arthur's face. Arthur blinked, his arms moving as if through molasses until they were buried in Copper's fur.

"Arthur?" Hosea tried again, and this time Arthur looked up and finally met his eye.

"Hosea?" he cried. Copper leapt out of the way as Arthur threw himself into Hosea's arms, shaking and sobbing into his shirt. Hosea settled himself against the furniture, rubbing Arthur's back and crying, too.

"You've got to talk to about this, Arthur," Hosea said. Arthur shook his head no. "Please? You can't keep what happened bottled up. These nightmares are just getting worse." Understatement of the century. Simple nightmares he could handle. A full-blown night terror was something else, and more than anything he was afraid that Arthur would get hurt trying to escape one. "Arthur, I don't care who you talk to, but please talk to someone! Will you tell me what happened?"

Again, Arthur shook his head no.

"Will you tell Dutch?"

Another no.

"Annabelle?"

Arthur didn't move.

"Will you talk to Annabelle?" Hosea tried again, feeling hopeful.

Finally, Arthur gave a minute nod. Hosea gestured to Annabelle to come over, gently transferring Arthur into her hold. "We'll be right outside if you need us, okay?" he said, then left the room.

An hour passed with Dutch, Hosea, and Bessie huddled together outside Arthur's room. Susan offered them coffee after she checked on John and Isaac. For not the first time since they moved to the house, Hosea was glad that Isaac had been agreeable to staying in John's room.

Finally, Annabelle emerged from the room, wiping tears from her eyes. Hosea got a glimpse of Arthur back on the bed, curled around Copper.

"How's he doing?" Dutch asked.

"Not good," she said. "He's sleeping now, but I'm going to stay with him tonight."

"Did he tell you any of it?" Hosea asked.

"Some," she said with a shudder. "He said they were just going to kill him, but he tried to escape. Sliced Colm's face, so Colm wanted him to suffer. I'm guessing that Colm didn't expect him to survive long enough for you to find him."

"God, you mean he's only alive because they…" Dutch said. "Oh, my boy."

"He asked if we would cut his hair, too," said Annabelle. "I think they kept grabbing it, and… well, Susan? Can we do that tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course," Susan said.

Hosea felt a surge of guilt in his chest. He touched Arthur's hair. Had that made things worse? Combined with the dark room, of course Arthur had panicked.

Dutch checked his pocket watch and sighed. "Well, it's not worth going back to sleep tonight. I'll stay up, see if anything needs to be done."

"I'll join you," Hosea said. He needed to be busy, and distracted, until he could hold Arthur and make sure he knew he was safe.

John could still hear Arthur's cries when he shut his bedroom door and leaned against it. He hated this. He wanted to help, but he had no idea what he could even do.

"Is Pa okay?" Isaac asked. He was waiting for John on John's bed, hugging one of his toys.

"I don't know," John said after thinking for a moment. He promised Isaac that he wouldn't lie to him.

"But what's wrong with him?"

John sighed. "I guess he's dreaming about a lot of bad stuff. What those men did, it's giving him nightmares."

"I wish he could get better," Isaac said. "It's scary."

"Yeah, it is," John said. He could no longer hear Arthur, but he knew everyone was still downstairs with him. "We should probably sleep, though. Hosea and Dutch will know how to help Arthur."

"Can I stay here with you?" Isaac asked, even though his own bed was just across the room. John was tempted to kick the kid out, but he remembered his early days in the Van der Linde gang, when he needed a bit of comfort.

"Why not," he said, letting Isaac snuggle against him. "You know, when I first came here, I was scared a lot, too. Arthur always let me stay with him, even though he complained that I kicked and snored and did a whole lot of stuff. I guess I never really thanked him for that. I'm not really good at saying it. But I think I found a way now."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, kid. Go to sleep."

Arthur had a white-knuckle grip on Annabelle's hand, and it tightened every time Susan picked up a chunk of hair to cut it. Even after a few hours of sleep, Arthur was still consumed with fear and anxiety. Annabelle didn't even ask if he needed her, she just picked up his hand and stayed by his side. But Susan understood why he was willing to go through this. Arthur wanted some measure of control, and if he found it in a haircut, she would give him one. She'd shave his head if it made him feel better, no matter how terrible he would look bald.

"Almost done," she said. More to Annabelle than Arthur. She hoped Annabelle's fingers were alright.

"There! How does that feel, Mr. Morgan?"

She let Arthur run his fingers through his hair. "Thank you," he said. Quiet. Almost fragile.

"How about a bath?" she said. "Come on, Bessie's already heated the water. And your sheets could use a wash."

"I don't know."

"Now I don't mean to be harsh, Mr. Morgan, but you stink," she said, staring down at him with her hands on her hips. "Let's get you cleaned up, into some fresh clothes, get some warm food in your belly. Don't make me get tough with you."

How many times had she forced Arthur over to a wash barrel because he came back covered in mud from some adventure? Her slight teasing seemed to get through to him now, and Arthur nodded when she asked about the bath again.

Susan and Annabelle helped Arthur to the tub and got his pajamas off, but let Arthur lower himself into the water and wash his head and hair.

Susan was extra careful when she picked up his left leg. She still wasn't used to seeing it. "Let me know if you want me to stop," she said. "It might feel a bit tender."

She ran the cloth over the end as gentle as she could. He gave a contented sigh. "That… actually feels real nice," he said. The most words since the previous night.

Susan added a little more pressure, massaging the whole area below his knee and smiling when Arthur relaxed even more. "Now, be honest with me. How's it feeling? In general, not just right now. And don't try to lie to me, you know you never get away with it."

He hesitated, then said, "It hurts, sometimes. It feels like my foot is still there, even though I know it's not."

"Oh Arthur, why didn't you say anything?" Annabelle asked, but Arthur didn't answer her.

"Does it feel that way all the time?" Susan asked.

"No."

"Does it feel that way now?"

"No."

"Because of the massage?"

"And the water. It stopped when I got in the bath.

"That's good," Susan said. "How about this? Every day we'll give your leg a soak and a massage."

"You don't have to-" he started to say, but she cut him off.

"I want to. We'll do it in the morning after breakfast, it will be a good way to start the day." Arthur still seemed a little skeptical, but she insisted. "And anytime it hurts or it feels like there's a foot where there isn't one, we'll do it then, too. Okay?"

"Yes, Miss Grimshaw."

Susan smiled at him and said, "A little routine can go a long way, Mr. Morgan."

Arthur could hear talking in the other room, and he couldn't help but think they were talking about him. Or about New Austin, but that was also because of him, wasn't it? Because they were spending all their money on his wooden leg. Between that and the time they had to spend in Denver, they couldn't make it over the mountains. No matter how often they told him they didn't mind the expense, he knew he was a burden.

Just like his daddy always said.

Lyle Morgan liked reminding Arthur that he was only worth scraps of food and thread-bare clothing if he did the veritable mountain of work around the house to Lyle's standards. And for a lazy man who never lifted a finger, Lyle's standards were impossible.

In his first months with Dutch and Hosea, he worked extra hard to be seen as useful and worthy of the food and clothing and lessons they freely gave him. They took notice of it, asked him about it. They began to divide the chores more clearly, made sure Arthur understood that they were all taking an even amount of the work. He wasn't simply earning his keep, he was doing his fair share.

Now, Hosea and Dutch had bags under their eyes, and they tried to hide their yawns when they visited him. Everyone else was taking on his chores, since he couldn't get up to chop wood or brush the horses.

He missed Boadicea, but he didn't want to ask anyone to help him to the barn.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Isaac walked in. "Hi, Pa!" he said.

"Hey, Isaac."

"Do you want to go outside?"

Every day, Isaac stopped by and asked him to do something. Arthur was pretty sure Bessie was sending him. Some days, he managed it. Today didn't feel like one of those days.

"Not today, Isaac."

"Oh."

Did Isaac see him as useless, too?

"Then, can we read a story together? Uncle Hosea gave me one but it's really hard. It's about kings and knights and they have to fight a dragon! And I didn't know what a dragon was an Hosea said it was a giant lizard with wings! Bigger than a house! Can we read it?"

"I don't know, Isaac," Arthur said.

"What about-"

"Isaac, I'm tired! I just can't right now. I can't walk, or run around with Copper, or play games. I can't do anything!"

Isaac lowered his head, but he couldn't hide his watery eyes. Arthur barely heard him whisper, "Don't you like me anymore?"

The soft words slammed into Arthur like a speeding train, knocking him down and crushing him into the tracks. His own voice, saying those same words to his father, echoed in his ears. Horror grew inside him. He couldn't become like Lyle Morgan, but it had already begun, hadn't it? Lyle's ghost haunted him after all these years.

Isaac needed him to be better than that. But Arthur was too slow. Isaac turned and ran from the room before Arthur could call after him.

Chapter Text

Arthur heard the knock and Hosea's voice on the other side of the door, but he didn't call him in or move at all from where he was curled up on the bed, facing the opposite wall. He didn't look up when Hosea and Dutch entered the room anyway. He just squeezed his eyes shut even more, clutching his father's old gambler hat in his hands.

"Hey, Arthur," Hosea started slowly. "How about we have a chat?"

Hosea sat down on the bed when Arthur didn't answer, rubbing Arthur's back. "Isaac seemed pretty upset just now. Want to tell us what happened?"

"No."

"Come on, Arthur, please?" Dutch said. "We want to help, but we can't unless we know what's going on."

"I messed up," Arthur cried.

"Okay, well, we all make mistakes," Hosea said. "I'm sure it's not as bad as all that."

"He thinks I don't love him!"

"Now, I'm sure that's not true," said Dutch, joining Hosea on the bed. Arthur didn't have anything to say to that. He heard Isaac's words, there was no mistaking them.

"What did you boys talk about?" Hosea asked.

"Is Isaac okay?" Arthur asked instead.

"He's upset," Hosea admitted. "But folk are looking after him, don't you worry about that right now. Let's figure out what we need to do to work this out. Now, what happened?"

Arthur hesitated, then it all spilled out. Dutch and Hosea didn't interrupt him. They just sat quietly. It was more than a failure like him deserved.

"Okay, this isn't too bad," Hosea said when he was done. "We'll be able to sort this out. This has been stressful for all of us, so of course Isaac is feeling that."

But Arthur shook his head, curling up tighter. "But this is how it started."

"How what started?" Hosea asked.

Arthur couldn't say it. He didn't want to relive those hazy childhood memories after his mother died. His father mostly left him alone before that. His mother took care of the house and him, and he was usually in bed by the time his father stumbled home. He never worried about whether or not his father loved him, or even liked him. Until it was just the two of them.

Dutch leaned over him, trying to meet his eye. "What do you have there?" he asked, reaching for the hat. Arthur opened his arms a little so that Dutch could see, but wouldn't let him take it.

Dutch sighed. "Why do you still wear that old thing, Arthur?"

"It was my dad's."

"I know. And your daddy wasn't a nice man, if I remember correctly," Dutch said.

"I don't want to be like him," Arthur said. "I don't."

"You're not-" Hosea started saying.

"I'm a failure."

"No, son, no."

"I'm just like him."

"Arthur, look at me!" Dutch said, turning Arthur over to face him. Arthur blinked the tears out of his eyes, staring back at Dutch. "You are nothing like Lyle Morgan! And you will never be like him, I promise."

"But-"

"But nothing! Arthur, you are a far better person than him. You always have been!" Dutch said.

"No, I'm worse," Arthur said, voice hitching.

"Now, that's not true, and you know it. You saved Anna, you saved your son. You think Lyle Morgan would have ever done anything like that?"

"What if you're wrong?"

"We're not," Hosea said. "You're not a bad person. You went through something horrible and you're trying to deal with it. But you shouldn't try to deal with it alone." Hosea shifted closer to Arthur, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "What are you thinking about right now?"

"That I can't do anything. I'm so fucking useless."

"No, son, you're not," Dutch said. "You're recovering."

"Dutch, look at me! Look at…" Arthur trailed off, gesturing at his left leg.

Dutch did look at his leg, pulling back the blankets slowly, delicately. His hand hovered over it, hesitating, then pulled Arthur's leg onto his lap and began to massage the muscles. "Miss Grimshaw said this helped?"

Arthur nodded.

"When that doctor told us your leg was too damaged to save, I didn't want to believe it," Dutch said, his eyes watering. "Hosea had to talk sense into me. And I'm glad he did, because if we hadn't and you died… God, Arthur, I thought you were dead when we found you."

Arthur was shocked by Dutch's honesty. There was a hint of raw fear as Dutch shut his eyes against the memories, letting go of Arthur's leg in favor of pulling him into a hug.

"I just saw the grave marker, and I thought… but Colm had to gloat, he wanted me to know."

Colm's words echoed in Arthur's ears, and he shuddered in Dutch's hold. "I thought I was going to die. I couldn't move, it was so dark. I knew you were coming and wanted me to hold on, but I couldn't."

"But you did hold on," Dutch said, adjusting his hold to bring Arthur closer. "You survived it. And I swear to you, Colm will never touch you again!"

Hosea jumped in. "I can't imagine, after going through all that, finding out we had to amputate your leg. That never should have been our choice to make, and more than anything I wish you could have decided for yourself. I hope, one day, you can forgive us for that."

"I don't blame you," Arthur said. "But how am I supposed to work? Earn my keep? Take care of Isaac?"

"We're going to help you," Hosea said immediately. "Once you have that wooden leg, we'll figure out how to get you walking and riding Bo."

"And as for earning your keep," Dutch said, "Arthur, you always have a place here, Isaac too, no matter what you're able to do. We'll never kick you out! And if you…" Dutch hesitated, almost as if he was coming to a realization. "If you decide that you don't want to work jobs as an outlaw anymore, that's fine, or you want to work on Bessie's sister's ranch… well, just be ready for a lot of visits, because I love you. And I want you in my life, no matter what."

Hosea suddenly looked up at Dutch with adoration, a smile growing on his face. Arthur knew they had many fights about the ranch and his future with Isaac, and he wondered if this was the first time they'd talked about it since he'd been taken by Colm. Hosea said, "I love you too, Arthur. And whatever you want to do, I support you."

Arthur didn't know what he wanted to do in the future, but he knew what he needed right now. "I want to stay," he said.

"Then stay," Dutch said. Hosea joined the hug on Arthur's other side.

"This isn't too tight, is it?" Hosea asked carefully.

"It's nice," Arthur said. Wrapped up between Hosea and Dutch, Arthur felt warm and safe. They stayed that way for a few minutes, but Arthur couldn't fully relax just yet. "But what about Isaac? What do I do?"

"Be honest with him," Hosea said. "Let him know that you love him. That things are difficult right now, but you are trying. And work on spending more time with him when you can."

"And remember, son, you are nothing like that bastard Lyle," Dutch said, dripping venom at his father's name. "You will never become like Lyle. And you certainly don't need an old, broken hat to remind you of that."

Arthur clenched his fist around the brim of the hat. Then one by one, his fingers loosened, and he let Dutch remove it and set it aside.

"Can you get Isaac?" Arthur asked.

"In a minute," Hosea said. "Let's just take a moment and calm down."

They sat like that until Arthur yawned. "Maybe a nap first," Dutch laughed.

"But Isaac-"

"Will be fine. You won't be able to have a good talk with him if you're exhausted. You need rest. I know you haven't had a good night's sleep in a long while."

Hosea settled himself flat on the bed, pulling Arthur and Dutch down to lay with him. Nestled between the men two who were actually fathers to him, Arthur soon fell asleep. He was quickly followed by Dutch and Hosea.

And for the first time since Colm, their sleep was not interrupted by nightmares.

Taking a nap turned out to be a good move, because John, Mac, and Davey decided to take Isaac out of camp for a few hours. They were just getting back when Arthur finally stirred, carried into the waking world by Dutch and Hosea quietly conversing next to him.

"Feeling better?" Hosea asked Arthur.

Arthur nodded and said, "I should talk to Isaac."

"I agree," Hosea said. "We'll go get him. You know what you're going to say?"

"No."

"You'll be fine," Dutch said.

Arthur hoped that was true. He certainly felt a lot better after his talk with Dutch and Hosea, but still he fidgeted with the ends of his blanket. "Maybe I should get out of bed for this. Or sitting up, at least."

Hosea gave Arthur a grin of approval. There wasn't a chair in the room, but Arthur got dressed in actual clothes rather than the union suit he'd been wearing for far too long, and sat on the edge of the bed with his legs hanging down.

Isaac cautiously peeked around the door when Hosea brought him back up. Arthur smiled and said, "Hey, Isaac, come on in."

"Hi, Pa."

Arthur patted the bed, and Isaac jumped up next to him. "I'm real sorry about earlier," Arthur said.

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't," Arthur said, putting an arm around Isaac's shoulders. "I love you, Isaac, and I haven't done a very good job of showing it lately. You see, I want to be able to run around with you and Copper, and take you for rides on Bo, but until the end of my leg is healed up enough for the doctors to make me a new one, I can't. And even then, I don't know what's going to happen. Because of that, well, I get sad. It makes me not want to do anything. And sometimes it makes me… uh…"

"Grumpy?" Isaac said, filling in the word Arthur was looking for much kinder than Arthur himself would have.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it turns me into a grump. But Isaac, I promise that I am not angry with you. I love you very much, and I'm going to work on being better. If ever I'm being a bit of a grump, you can tell me, okay? Or you can let Hosea or Bessie know, and they'll come tell me. That sound good?"

"Yeah."

"Come here," he said, hugging Isaac a little closer to him, his heart warming when Isaac wrapped his arms around Arthur's middle. And he was feeling much better at the moment, so he figured he could take another step. "Now, I want to make this up to you. How about we do something together? Read that story you were talking about, or go outside?"

Isaac thought for a moment. "Can we play the card game?"

"The one you were playing with John and the Callanders?"

"Yeah! It's really fun."

"Sure, let's do it! But you're going to have to teach me how to play."

"Wait!" Isaac said, scrambling out of the room. Arthur watched him go, confused. But he didn't have to wonder for long. Isaac ran back in, a hat in his hands. "John took me to town today and helped me pick it. He said your hat got destroyed and that you needed a new one. Do you like it?"

It was another gambler hat, a similar style to his old one, but it was a rich brown, the band an embroidered pattern of blue and red. "It's wonderful," Arthur said. "I love it!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! How about you put it on me?" Arthur leaned forward and let Isaac settle the hat on his head. It fit perfectly. "Now, let's show this off outside!"

Arthur grabbed his crutches and hauled himself up. He was starting to get used to moving with them, and made it outside much faster than before. Isaac ran ahead to the table, gathering John, Bessie, and Davey to join in the game. Copper almost tripped Arthur, absolutely ecstatic to see him outside.

"Nice hat!" John said.

"Thank you. I must say, you do have decent taste. Who'd have thought?"

"Shut up, Arthur!"

"Now, how do you play this anyways?"

"You start with seven cards," Davey said. "You got to match either the face or the number with the card on the table. Whoever runs out of cards first, wins."

"And here I thought you were teaching him poker," Arthur said.

"I figured he should learn what all the cards and numbers look like first!" Davey laughed. "We'll get him caught up soon enough."

"Teaching my son to gamble, huh?"

"Hey, poker builds character!"

"Is one of you going to deal?" Bessie asked.

"Alright, alright," Davey said, grabbing the deck.

Arthur gathered his seven cards, looking around the table. "What happens if you can't match?"

"You have to draw cards until you can," Isaac said.

"Oh, so it's like dominoes."

"What's dominoes?" Isaac asked.

"It's another game. I'm ain't too good at it, so you should get Bessie to teach you."

Arthur settled back in his chair, looking around the camp. Perhaps everyone was right. Focusing on the fun and conversation did help ease the tension of the last few days. Hosea waved at him from the porch where he sat with Dutch, both smiling. Arthur gave a small wave back, played his first card.

Not every day was a good day. Some days, Arthur had to tell Isaac that he wasn't feeling well, and needed to be left alone. Usually, it was after a string of particularly bad nightmares. But because of their talk, Isaac understood him better. Arthur always told Hosea and Dutch, too, who made sure to stop by to check on Arthur and see if he needed anything.

But he had more good days. More days dressed and out of bed. More days playing games or reading outside.

On a particularly hot day, Arthur sat outside under the shade of a tree, drawing in his journal. He frowned at the image, adjusted a line, and frowned some more.

"Having trouble?" Dutch asked, looking up from his book.

"I just want this to be perfect. It's a gift for Isaac."

"Can I see?"

Arthur passed the journal over. "Is this Eliza?" Dutch asked.

"Yeah. I've got a photograph of my ma, but none of Eliza. Isaac should have something. You think he'll like it?"

"He's going to love it," Dutch said, squeezing his shoulder and handing back the journal.

Later that night, Arthur gave Isaac the drawing, much to the boy's delight. He used the frame that previously housed Mary's picture, figuring it was better not to have his ex-fiancé next to his child's mother. He still kept the picture, tucked away in the pages of a book.

He took down his father's mugshot and buried it at the bottom of his chest. Arthur didn't want that man staring down at him a second longer.

Besides, he had better pictures to display.

Chapter Text

Arthur sat awkwardly as the man in front of him, Tom, slid the wooden leg onto him. The wooden leg sat snug against his skin, and a leather cuff was tied tight around his thigh to keep it in place.

"How does that feel, sir?"

"Uh…" Arthur stammered. "It's okay, I guess." He really wasn't sure what it was supposed to feel like, but it didn't hurt.

"Now, I'm going to need you to stand up so I can make sure your hips and knees are even," Tom said. "You mind helping him up?"

"Here, Arthur," Hosea said, offering his hand. Dutch came to his other side, and together they helped steady Arthur while Tom checked the height of the wooden leg.

"Alright, that looks good. Now, it's going to take some getting used to-"

"You can say that again," Arthur mumbled. Already, he felt unsteady.

"But I suggest walking with crutches first and doing some balancing exercises a few times a day," Tom finished. "Here's an ointment for soreness, since the muscles won't be used to moving with the prosthesis. And feel free to come back for an adjustment if it isn't fitting right."

"Thank you, sir," Hosea said.

"Can I sit back down now?" Arthur asked.

"Of course!"

Dutch paid Tom, and Arthur tried not to think about just how much money was gone because of him. The guilt still crept up on him, even after countless reminders from Dutch and Hosea that he was more than worth the expense. Once he was on his feet and able to do work around camp, he'd pay them back.

And besides, Dutch and Hosea were getting really excited about opportunities in New Austin, Arizona, and eventually California. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and Arthur found himself dreaming of long rides across an infinite desert and nights of clear, star-filled skies.

"Shall we head back?" Hosea said. "You don't have to wear it on the ride back."

"Oh, good."

"I figure you want your first walking practice to be somewhere a little more private," Hosea laughed. That would certainly be for the best, because Arthur definitely felt like he was going to fall if he took a step.

Though maybe it wouldn't be too bad with the crutches, like Tom said.

Arthur pulled the leg off and hopped up, getting his crutches underneath him. He was glad to have more energy again, both from healing and actually sleeping through the night. If that was because Copper crawled into his bed every night, no one was complaining. Sometimes Susan looked like she wanted to complain, but she didn't. The general consensus of the gang was that Arthur's well-being mattered more than having blankets that didn't smell like dog. When he did have a nightmare, Copper was quick to wake him up, usually by licking his face and whining.

The reduction in nightmares also meant that Arthur was comfortable with Isaac moving back into his room. It certainly helped Isaac feel a sense of normalcy, even if he did miss sharing with his uncle John.

Arthur was never going to let John forget it after the first time Isaac called John his uncle.

Arthur headed out to Boadicea, a peppermint in his hand. Bo still eyed the crutches, but stood still for the peppermint.

"Good girl," he said, rubbing the crooked stripe on her head. "Now, here's another one. Down…"

Not a week ago, Arthur had woken up from a nap wondering where his crutches had gone, only to see John and Hosea next to the horses with them. Hosea was teaching Boadicea how to kneel down so that John, the guinea pig, could figure out the best way to get on a horse from crutches. Their first problem was keeping Bo from spooking at the crutches, a disaster that had Arthur wracked with laughter.

But they did it, somehow. Arthur balanced himself over the saddle, then jumped and hauled his right leg over her back. "That's it, get on up now," he said, and Bo got her front legs back under herself. The only real issue once he was in the saddle was what to do with the crutches. On the ride over, Arthur slid them horizontal behind the saddle, resulting in a lot of jokes when it proved too wide to squeeze between two trees on the trail.

"She's doing well with that," Dutch said.

"Yeah. It's nice to be riding again."

"Just you wait, son, you won't even need those crutches anymore."

"I hope so."

"Though, you might want to keep them around for emergencies," Hosea said.

"Sure," Arthur said.

They trotted steadily back towards camp, certainly not in a rush. "I figure we should stick around here for maybe a week or two, just to make sure your leg doesn't need adjusting."

"And then New Austin?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah. Dutch and I have been looking at a town called Armadillo for maybe some small jobs, stagecoaches and the like, but really we want to keep moving towards California. That's where the good money will be!"

"Are you sure it's okay if I'm not able to-"

"Arthur, it's fine!" Hosea said. "We want you here, remember? Besides, I have no doubt that you will be chopping wood and brushing horses soon enough."

"Listen to Hosea, son," Dutch said.

Isaac waved and ran up to Arthur as soon as the three of them rode back up to the house. "What did you get up to?" Arthur asked him as he slid off Bo.

"I saw a huge bug!" Isaac said.

"Really?"

Isaac leaned in and whispered, "It landed in Susan's hair and scared her."

"Did it now?"

"Uh huh! And then I played with Copper for a while."

"Where is that dog?"

"Probably rolling in a mud puddle," Susan said with a shake of her head. "It's still pretty wet out there from that rain. How did you get on, Mr. Morgan?"

"Well, I've got a new leg," he said.

"Can I see?" Isaac asked.

"Sure. I think Hosea's got it."

Isaac ran off towards Hosea. Susan chuckled when she heard him shout, "Wow!"

"How about you head on over to the table. Lunch is just about ready."

"Sounds good."

"You'll need energy for walking!" she called after him.

Walking wasn't where they started. Standing and balancing proved difficult enough. Arthur grumbled each time he was forced to grab the bed frame to steady himself.

"It's only the first day," Bessie said. Arthur would have much preferred practicing by himself, but Bessie, as she put it, was there to make sure he didn't fall and crack his head open.

"Bessie-" he started, wound tight and ready to snap.

"Breathe," she said. "Why don't you try it with the crutches. Start leaning on them, and slowly stand up on your own."

"Okay," Arthur sighed. And tried it. He stayed supported a little longer before leaning on the crutches again.

"How was that? Better?" Bessie asked.

"I guess. But it don't feel too good."

"You're pretty much learning how to walk all over again," Bessie said, trying to reassure him. "I'm sure you remember Isaac doing that."

"You know, I wasn't around when Isaac was first learning. He had a pretty good handle on it when I visited."

"I'm sure you still saw a few tumbles."

Arthur nodded, and sat back down. "I think that's all I want to do today."

"That's fine. We will try again tomorrow."

"How are you so patient all the time, Bessie?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, you think I'm like this all the time?" she teased. "It took practice, I suppose. You and John gave me plenty of that. But over time, I learned how to set my frustration aside for a time."

"And it just went away?"

"Well, no. Not all the time. The little things went away. But between you and me, sometimes I would have to go out in the middle of the woods and just scream it out!"

"Really? I never knew."

"Neither does Hosea. One time after I was out purging a little frustration from my system, he came running up to me all excited." Bessie leaned in close. "Said he'd never heard elk that far south before!"

Arthur howled with laughter, falling into her. She did the same. "You know, laughter is a good way to release frustration, too," she said, breathless. "But it's not always as easy."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. "I better get my hollering out before we get to New Austin, or else Hosea's going to be real confused."

"I'm hoping that won't be a problem," Bessie said. "Now, don't you go telling Hosea my secret."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Arthur said.

Practicing walking did many things for Arthur, but curing his boredom wasn't one of them. There were only so many books to read, so many times he could draw the camp, so many games of poker before Arthur had enough. And a bored Arthur liked to cause trouble, as Miss Grimshaw put it when she stopped Arthur from attempting a rather complicated and dramatic flourish in a game of Five Finger Fillet against Mac.

"You'd think after losing a leg you'd be less inclined to chop off a finger!" she reprimanded him, leading him off to a pile of clothes. By then, Arthur used both his wooden leg and crutches at the same time, and was getting much stronger. "Now then, you are going to help me mend the holes in these shirts."

Arthur contemplated the shirt in front of him. Could he sew? Yes. Hosea taught him how to stitch wounds. Could he sew well enough to close a hole to Miss Grimshaw's standards? Probably not. "Look, I'll quit playing with knives," he tried saying.

She shook her head, handing him the needle and thread. "Nonsense. Here."

"I ain't quite sure how to do this."

Susan crossed her arms and said, "Then you'll learn. Watch what I do and try to copy it."

Soon, he successfully closed one hole. Then another. Susan and Arthur kept working until they had no clothes left to mend. Arthur enjoyed the rhythmic motion, finding it similar to the back and forth of his pencil when doing the shading for a drawing. Sewing with Susan and Bessie quickly became one of his chores, though there rarely was enough material for all three of them to work.

That changed with their newest gang member, Simon Pearson.

Dutch and Hosea met Mr. Pearson in a saloon just after the gang left Colorado. The former Navy sailor was working as the cook, having run low on funds while seeking adventure out west. Mr. Pearson quickly realized, after listening to Hosea and Dutch search for leads in the saloon, that the pair were outlaws. But to their surprise, Mr. Pearson didn't run straight to the sheriff. Instead, he offered his cooking services in exchange for traveling with them, seeing the gang as his ticket to the adventure he craved. And considering how their gang had expanded over the last few months, with Isaac, Mac, and Davey, having a full-time cook worked out well.

On top of his cooking skills, Mr. Pearson enjoyed working with leather. He often experimented with different types of pelts to create satchels, trunk covers, rugs… rather basic items. But he taught a very interested Arthur how he prepared the pelts and designed the bags, and let Arthur join him during the process.

Soon, Arthur was begging Hosea to take him hunting for new materials. Hosea indulged his boy, proud that Arthur was finally taking an interest in hunting after all the lessons he'd given him. He took Arthur out to hunt some pronghorn, which gathered in large herds in the open plain and could be easily shot from the saddle.

"You really interesting in working with pelts?" Hosea asked after they brought down two of the pronghorn.

"Yeah," Arthur said. "I think I am."

"What brought this on?"

"Well, I enjoy it. More than I thought I would, that's for sure. And… never mind."

"What?"

"It's just," Arthur started, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "Me and John, we never had many options growing up. We fell into the outlaw life pretty easily. I want Isaac to have options, you know? If I can learn a new skill and pass it on to him, then he could have a chance at an honest business one day. Eliza felt the same. Once Isaac was a little older, she was going to try to apprentice in something. Don't know if she ever decided what."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Arthur," Hosea said. "Once you get used to working with pelts, there's all sorts of items you could branch out into: coats, gloves, boots… you could be our gang's personal trapper!"

"You're getting ahead of yourself, old man."

"Nonsense! I've seen some of those drawings you've got in your journal. You have a good eye for detail. I bet you could make some real good stuff if you put your mind to it."

"Maybe."

"Talk to Annabelle. I think she used to make clothes with her mother when she was growing up. Mind you, she worked with wool and cotton, but she might have some advice on designing."

Arthur nodded and said, "Alright. Now are you going to pick up those pronghorn before the scavengers get them, or do I have to come down there myself?"

"Stay on your horse, I've got it," Hosea chuckled, and hauled the first pronghorn to the back of his horse.

Dear Jim and Mabel,

I promised that I would write, and I've neglected to do so these past few months. But Isaac's fifth birthday is today, and I wanted to let you know that we are both doing alright. I've decided to take up a new trade, one that will hopefully allow me to spend more time with Isaac. Isaac has begun reading lessons, and wanted to write a to you himself. His spelling is still a little shaky, so it's mostly a drawing.

I'm traveling west with my family to California, so I am not sure yet when you can write back. I'll send another letter once we are settled.

Thank you again for everything you did to help me and Isaac.

Sincerely,

Arthur

He slipped his letter into the envelope with Isaac's short message and the drawing, labeled My family. He included everyone, even Boadicea, Rory, and Copper.

Arthur pushed himself up, taking a moment to steady himself before walking forward. He was still a little slow, but he could walk without crutches. Though Isaac running and slamming into his legs to hug him almost knocked him over.

"Happy Birthday, Isaac!" Arthur said, lifting him into a hug. "You excited to turn five?"

"Yeah!"

"Anything you want to do today?"

"Can we go on a ride?"

"Sure! Why don't we eat some breakfast and then we'll head out."

"Okay!" Isaac said, running off to the table.

Bessie patted Arthur on the shoulder and whispered, "Make sure you take a few hours. We want that cake to be a surprise."

"Won't be a problem," he said.

They trotted across the desert, first swinging by the Armadillo post office to send the letter and then off to the nearby lake. Arthur found himself looking forward to Isaac opening his gifts. There was the journal he bought all those weeks ago, fortunately recovered with their wagon and Rory, and several new toys and storybooks.

"Pa? Can we go fast?"

"Sure. Hold on tight, now." Boadicea eagerly galloped down the road.

"When can I ride my own horse?" Isaac asked.

"When you're a little bigger. You got to be able to reach the stirrups."

"But they're so far down!"

"You'll have a smaller saddle when we start you riding, don't worry. But give it a two years, maybe less, and we can get you started on Daisy."

"Really? Isn't she John's horse?"

"She is, but he's getting a little big for her now. I'm sure he won't mind you riding her."

John already said as much. Arthur couldn't believe how quickly John had warmed up to Isaac, but he was glad for it.

Maybe Isaac could convince John to finally learn swimming. Arthur didn't plan to teach Isaac just yet, but for the day, they splashed around in the shallows of the lake before heading back to camp for the surprise.

"Happy Birthday, Isaac!" everyone shouted, standing in front of the table with a cake and presents.

"This is all for me?" Isaac asked.

"Yep! The cake is chocolate, too," Bessie said.

"You only turn five once. Got to make the most of it," said Dutch.

Annabelle turned to the group and said, "Should we sing?"

Their rendition of the song was a little out of tune, but Isaac clapped and cheered anyway. Arthur let him have way too much cake, fully prepared to deal with the impending sugar rush.

And the crash that inevitably followed.

"You have a good day?" Arthur asked as he carried the boy to bed.

Isaac yawned as a reply.

Arthur chuckled. "Well, at least you'll sleep well tonight."

"Pa?"

"Yeah."

"You think Ma is sad she missed my birthday?"

Arthur paused in the doorway to the bedroom, gathering his thoughts. "I'm sure she is a little sad. She wants to be here with you. But I think she's also happy you had a great day with us."

"I miss her."

"Me too, son."

As much as Arthur loved having his son with him, he wished Eliza was with them, too. Even though she never would have lived with the gang. Sometimes, Arthur wondered whether or not he should have left the gang and married her. Would Eliza had survived? Could he have protected her? Or would he still have taken Isaac on a fishing trip the same day robbers decided to come to their house?

But he couldn't let himself get caught up in what could have been. Arthur had to do his best for Isaac now.

He hoped Eliza was happy with his choices.

"Alright, let's get you in bed," Arthur said.

"Okay. Goodnight, Pa," Isaac muttered sleepily, before turning to the drawing of Eliza. "Goodnight, Ma."

"Goodnight, Isaac," Arthur said, tucking the blankets around his son. "Happy birthday!"

Chapter Text

Bessie wasn't sure what woke her at first. She shut her eyes again and snuggled closer to Hosea, hoping to be back to sleep soon. Then Hosea shifted, groaned. His lungs shuddered, and he mumbled a few words.

Bessie squeezed his shoulder and said, "Hosea, darling, wake up now. It's just a dream."

Hosea gasped, his eyes flying open as he tried to sit up. Bessie moved with him, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "You're alright. We're safe, remember?"

"Arthur?" Hosea asked.

"Arthur is sleeping in the other room," she continued, wrapping him up in a hug as Hosea got his breathing under control. "Colm doesn't know we're here."

"I know," Hosea said. "I just… I need to see him."

Hosea slipped out of bed, trying to be quiet as he opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall. Bessie was right behind him as he pushed on the door across the way. Copper looked up, his tail thumping against the bed. On the other side of the room, Isaac was asleep, too.

Arthur stirred as he felt Copper move next to him. "What's going on? Hosea?" he muttered, sitting up.

Hosea sighed and whispered, "Sorry, Arthur. Didn't mean to wake you?"

"Everything alright?"

"Everything is fine, we're perfectly safe."

Arthur was unconvinced. Bessie stepped up next to the bed and said, "He just had a nightmare, honey."

"Oh," Arthur said.

Hosea gently pushed him back down in the bed, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "Go back to sleep, son."

As Arthur closed his eyes and relaxed, Bessie guided Hosea back to their own bedroom. "This is the third time in a week," she said. "Maybe we should try that tea."

Hosea rubbed his eyes and nodded. "I thought I had a handle on them. Hell, it's been over two years!"

"I know. Is it the same one?"

"Yes."

For the first few months after Hosea and Dutch rescued Arthur from Colm, Hosea had the same nightmares over and over. Every night, he saw Arthur's pale, unmoving body in the coffin, and there was no pulse when Hosea moved to check him. Or worse, the one that plagued him more lately, he and Dutch dug and dug and dug, never reaching Arthur as Colm laughed in the background.

Bessie knew which laugh. She heard it, too.

After the gang finally put the desert behind them and arrived in California, they began making their way up the coast. They were gaining both a reputation and higher bounties, at least Dutch and Hosea were. They picked up a few new folk as well, a scam artist named Karen and a man who only referred to himself as Uncle, before they crossed the border into Oregon in early 1891.

Which was where they ran into the O'Driscoll gang.

Dutch, Annabelle, Hosea, and Bessie were enjoying a day in town, a nice double date with dinner and a show, when Colm approached them. He had a long scar across his cheek and through his eyebrow, and Bessie couldn't help but be a little proud of Arthur for giving him that. Colm let out that awful laugh and said, "I haven't seen a bounty for your boy lately. How is Arthur? Still in Colorado?"

The next second, all four of them were diving for cover as multiple O'Driscoll boys in town opened fire. They'd been lucky. They were on the edge of town, close to the horses, and were able to escape before any of them were injured. Dutch wanted to go after Colm, but after scouting their hideout, Hosea convinced him that the O'Driscoll gang was too large to attack.

The best way to keep Arthur safe was to get as far away as possible.

So, plans were made to cross back over the Grizzlies. Arthur, Isaac, Hosea, and Bessie left first by train, figuring they could spend a few weeks visiting Bessie's sister before meeting the caravan down in Missouri. She just hoped that Arthur hadn't been spotted at the train station. She didn't want him running from Colm for the rest of his life. Then again, if Arthur didn't have Isaac to look after, Bessie was pretty sure Arthur would have been right next to Dutch looking to put an end to the O'Driscolls.

Fortunately for Isaac, Arthur had dedicated himself to raising that boy as well as he could.

He joined Hosea in teaching Isaac how to read, how to do chores. Arthur was using their time at the ranch to teach Isaac how to ride horses, planning to officially gift Daisy to him as soon as they met back up with the others. In a year or two, he wanted to introduce Isaac to shooting as well. "Just a varmint rifle, I promise!" Arthur said when she asked about it. "We can start with rabbits and birds. You know he's interested in what I do."

Isaac was very proud of his father's role in the gang. Arthur provided most of the meat they ate, and now some of their clothing. He was getting much better at crafting, and was even making a small profit on the side. Arthur set up shop in whatever town they were robbing, taking orders for different clothing items. He used his position to scope out leads and inspect potential robbery targets. But unlike the gang's investment schemes, Arthur actually followed through on his orders, sometimes mailing the items if they ended up leaving town early.

Bessie knew that Arthur was happy. And, she believed, he was happier than he would have been working as a rancher.

"You alright now?" she asked Hosea when she returned with the tea.

"Better," he said, taking a sip. "I hope this helps."

"Being back with everyone else might help, too. I'm sure you are worried about them. I know I am."

"They'll do fine," Hosea said. "They're all good guns, even the new folk. That Karen Jones isn't afraid of a little gunsmoke, and Uncle can handle himself."

"As long as he's sober," Bessie grumbled, causing Hosea to almost choke on his last sip of tea. "Want me to take that back to the kitchen."

"Please, thank you!"

Bessie took two steps towards the door, then suddenly swayed. Dark spots overtook her vision, and she was forced to grab the doorframe.

"Bessie, darling, you alright?" Hosea asked, at her side in an instant.

"Yes, I think so. I just got dizzy all of a sudden."

"You sit. I'll take this back," Hosea said, grabbing the cup from her hands. He returned in a minute, by which point she felt back to normal.

"I'm fine, Hosea," she said as he fussed over her. "Let's just get back to sleep."

"As long as you're sure," he replied, but joined her in crawling under the blankets.

"Sleep well, Hosea," Bessie said, snuggling into him again.

Aside from the reasons, Bessie was glad to be able to visit her sister again. Amy had been understanding but disappointed when Bessie decided to go west with the gang rather than spend the winter at the ranch. But Bessie hadn't wanted to leave Arthur just as he was getting back on his feet.

And after, well, it was such a long journey. She didn't want to be away from her boys and Isaac for such a long time.

"You think it's too late to steal Arthur for ranch work?" Amy joked, gesturing to Arthur and Isaac out in the paddock. Isaac sat on one of her Kentucky Saddlers, trotting around the small ring under Arthur's watchful eye.

"Unfortunately, I think it is. But at least you get to put him to work now."

"He managed to wrangle Achilles earlier," Amy said, referring to the high-strung colt that Amy's husband Harry had been having trouble selling. "I can't explain it. Horses love him."

"At least he has a career to fall back on," Bessie laughed. "Maybe you can get him to make you a coat as a consolation."

"I'm holding you to that."

Bessie became distracted when Arthur opened the gate, letting Isaac ride out by himself. He mounted Boadicea and followed close behind in case of trouble. He noticed Bessie and Amy watching from the porch and waved at them.

"Oh, I hope Isaac is ready for that."

"He seems fine, don't worry," Amy said. "You can't keep them in the paddock forever." Her own children were old enough to have a whole list of chores to do around the ranch. Bessie barely saw them.

"I can't help but worry," she said

"Oh, I know. I worry about my children. And I worry about you, running around the west like you are."

"Oh, stop!"

"I do!" Amy said. "I never thought I'd have to! And when you told me what those outlaws did to Arthur, I can't help but worry!"

"I know," Bessie said with a smile. "Growing up, I never thought I would leave this farm, either. But I'm happy, Amy. I love Hosea, my family, my boys."

"I know. I just wish we could keep in better contact. I know not all my letters reach you. If something were to happen…"

"I understand," Bessie said with a nod. "I'll try to visit more often. I don't know what the plan is after Missouri, but I'm sure we'll still be much closer than the last few years."

"Good. And bring Arthur and that sweet boy of his," Amy said.

"I will," Bessie replied. "Dominoes?"

"I have time for a quick game."

They both knew the game wouldn't be quick, considering their competitive natures in an all-fives game. And they probably wouldn't stop at one.

Early in Bessie's and Hosea's marriage when they tried living an honest life, they first went to Indiana. They moved into the same house they were staying at now, and Bessie both began working at the ranch while Hosea healed.

They didn't last very long.

The Matthews wanted to find their own livelihood, not try to fit into someone else's life. So, they took their wages, quite generous considering how much smaller the ranch had been at the time, and traveled until they fell back in with the gang.

Back then, it had been her with the fears and nightmares. Now, it was Hosea.

"You ever think that it would be better to settle down?" Hosea asked her.

"I haven't thought about that in a long time," Bessie said.

"Me, neither. But I want folk to be safe. Not just you and me, Arthur and Isaac, I mean everyone!"

"All of us settling down together?" she laughed. "I can't imagine it. That would have to be a pretty big property, considering how many of us there are now."

"Oh, yes. A gigantic property. I don't want to see my neighbors!"

"And how will we earn money on this great big property of ours?"

"Well, we've got Arthur's business," he said.

Bessie chuckled and said, "Does Arthur know he's going to be supporting this entire family with just his hunting and garments?"

"I'll help him with the hunting," Hosea said. "No, we'd have to raise livestock, most likely."

"And do you really think Dutch and Annabelle would go for this?"

"It was actually Dutch's idea," Hosea insisted. "He likes the idea of us having our own land, a place to truly be free, together. It sounded like a fantasy, at first. But I think we could do it."

"We tried this before, Hosea. It didn't last."

"Last time, we were alone. I loved being with you, but I couldn't stop missing Arthur and Dutch."

"I know," Bessie said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "I missed them, too."

"And we've had so many adventures, my dear. I think we could live a quiet life. As long as we are all together."

"I think so, too," Bessie said.

"Hi, Aunt Bessie!" Isaac said, running down the stairs for breakfast like he did every morning. But this wasn't just a normal day. It was their last day at the ranch, having finally gotten word that Dutch and the gang reached Missouri.

"Good morning, sweetie. Where's your Pa?"

"He went out early to get eggs with Uncle Hosea. Oh, wait," Isaac said, freezing.

"Wait, what?"

"I wasn't supposed to tell you. It's for a surprise."

"Don't worry, I'll act surprised," she said.

Bessie didn't have to wait for long to find out why Arthur had gone out for eggs. He and Hosea stumbled in, Hosea roaring with laughter. "Arthur got chased by a hen!" he said.

"I wasn't chased, you're exaggerating," Arthur huffed. "Good morning, Bessie."

"I kind of spoiled the surprise," Isaac said.

"We might as well tell you. Arthur and I are making breakfast this morning!" Hosea announced.

"Well, lucky me!" she said, kissing Hosea on the cheek. "Hopefully this goes better than your last cooking attempt."

"Hey! We're fine now. We just had a little food poisoning," Hosea said. "At least it's hard to screw up eggs. And we were able teach the boys about proper cooking, even if Arthur's idea of a seasoned steak is throwing some mint leaves on it."

"Mint is healthy!" Arthur argued. "You taught me that!"

"Each to their strengths," Bessie said, before leaning in to whisper in Isaac's ear, "We may need to go out for breakfast."

Hosea turned to them and said, "What are you whispering about?"

"Nothing!" Bessie said, giggling along with Isaac.

The kitchen was a mess by the time they were finished, but the eggs were delicious. "Thank you, boys, that was wonderful!"

"The day isn't over yet," Hosea said. "We're all going to town to see a show!"

"Really?" Isaac and Bessie said at the same time.

"Really!"

"I've never been to a show before," Isaac said. "What's it like?"

"There's all different kinds," Bessie explained as they headed out to the wagon. "There is singing, dancing, sometimes magic… and sometimes odd things you'd never thought anyone would do!"

"When it's vaudeville, it could be anything!" Hosea added.

"Hosea used to be an actor you know," Bessie said, glancing at Hosea.

"You were in shows?" Isaac asked.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Arthur said, snatching the reins from Hosea's hands. "I'll drive, old man. You tell your stage stories."

"Well, I wasn't in too many shows…" Hosea began.

They were all laughing before they even arrived in town. They spent a few hours wandering the streets and shopping before they went to the theater. And there, they laughed some more.

"Thank you for today," Bessie said as they headed back to the house. "This whole trip has been nice."

"I wish we visited Indiana for different reasons, though," Hosea said. "Let's make sure to come back, soon. Maybe we could bring John."

"I'd like that," she said.

The next morning, they said their goodbyes, almost reluctant to leave the quiet ranch. Bessie promised Amy that she would visit more, and bring John next time as well. But once on the road, they moved fast, excited to be back with the gang.

"You're back!" John said when they finally rolled into camp.

"Hey, John," Arthur said.

"Arthur, Hosea!" Dutch called them over immediately.

"No problems getting out of Oregon, then?" Arthur asked, trying to seem nonchalant. But there was a slight shake in his voice.

Dutch hesitated, then said, "We had to take a longer route. There were O'Driscolls scouting for stagecoaches and caravans along the main road."

"You think they know we went this way?" Hosea asked.

"They know we came east, sure, but not how far. This is a big country, Hosea."

"I know. I'm just nervous," Hosea said. Bessie squeezed his hand.

"I think we've found ourselves a good spot. There seems to be a few rich idiots in town who could spread their wealth to the less fortunate. Arthur, why don't you set up shop in town tomorrow and start making contacts. Hosea and I can swing by the saloon and listen to what folk are saying."

"I could help with that," Annabelle said, almost glaring at Dutch. Bessie glanced back and forth between them, wondering where the tension had suddenly come from. But it was gone as quick as it had appeared. Dutch kept talking about plans, and Bessie tuned them out as she went to unpack.

It was good to be back in camp, but something new wouldn't be bad, either. Hosea was right, it could work. As long as they were all together.

Chapter Text

“You know, Arthur Morgan, you should work on your people skills,” Uncle said.

“And why would you say that?” Arthur said as he leaned back in his chair.

“I mean, without me, you’d never sell anything!”  

Ever since Uncle joined their gang, he seemed to work very hard at getting out of work.  So, when he realized that Arthur would often set up a stand in town, Uncle determined that Arthur needed him there to talk to potential customers and help make sales.

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, Uncle was sort of right.  Normal folk Arthur could talk to.  Most of them were grateful to find custom-made clothes meant for hard work outdoors.  Rich people were something else, seeing Arthur’s items as a fashion statement.  So, Arthur and Uncle developed a system.  Arthur spoke to the rich people first, setting a firm and high price for his work.  Then Uncle stepped in, all smiles and apologizing for his gruff colleague.  He set a new price, still way higher than Arthur charged the regular folk.  Usually, the rich accepted.

It worked well for both of them.  And Arthur would be alright with it if Uncle didn’t find the need to constantly remind him of it.

“Without you, I’d actually get some peace and quiet,” Arthur grumbled as he continued to stitch the coat he was making for a local rancher.

“Now why would you say that?  I’m starting to think you don’t like me,” Uncle said, before another voice joined in.

“Ah, Arthur!  There you are!” Dutch called out from down the street.  Well, he might as well give up on the quiet.  Ever since the gang arrived in Missouri, Dutch had thrown himself into planning robberies with a greater furor than ever before.  It meant that he was constantly checking in to update Arthur on their planning.

There were some disadvantages to working in town.

“How’s it going, Dutch?”

“I think we may have some opportunities here,” Dutch said, before leaning in.  “See what you can find out about Richard Ainsworth.  Apparently he owns the wool mill and underpays the workers.”

“No problem.  I’ve seen a lot of workers wandering about, I’m sure they’ll start complaining easy enough.”

“Arthur, I think I’m going to head to the saloon,” Uncle said.

“Seriously?” Arthur said.

Uncle brushed him off by saying, “I’ve worked hard today!” as he grabbed Nell and walked down the street.

Arthur rolled his eyes as he left.  “He always finds a way out of work.”

“And yet he often brings back decent leads from his trips to the saloon,” Dutch chuckled.

“Yeah, and does he ever follow through with them himself?  No!”

“Sometimes he does,” Dutch said.  Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, causing Dutch to repeat, “Sometimes.  Anyway, the day’s almost done.  Want to ride back together?”

“Sure, why not,” Arthur said.  “I can finish this coat tomorrow.”

Arthur started to pack up the wagon when a small blur leapt into the back, burying itself in the pelts.  “What was that?” Dutch asked just before a furious and well-dressed traveler ran up to them.

“You see a girl run through here?  The little bitch robbed me!” he gasped, his face bright red.  It was almost comical to watch the portly man double over from chasing a kid.  Almost.  It would have been if the traveler didn’t have his revolver in his hand.

Dutch took over immediately.  “Oh, I did!  I believe the miscreant ducked down that alley over there.”

“Thank you,” the man gasped, jogging in the direction that Dutch indicated.

“Shall we?” Dutch said, mounting Nero and peaking over the side of the wagon to make sure the girl was still hidden inside.  After they left town, he called to the back, “You alright, Miss?”

She didn’t answer, but the pelts shifted a little.

“Now, we’re not going to turn you into the law.  We aren’t the most upstanding of citizens ourselves.  Do you have family in the area?  Is there anywhere we can take you?”

Again, no answer.

“Well, we’re headed back to our camp.  We have warm food on the fire and a spare bed you can sleep in for the night.”  Dutch kept up a one-sided conversation for the rest of the ride back, trying to get any response from the girl in the back.  Arthur had to keep turning around to check that she was even still in the wagon, noticing one bare foot sticking out.  No wonder she was stealing.  She didn’t even have shoes!

“Who’s there?” Davey Callander called from the edge of camp.  Dutch had found a nice, open area in the forest to set up camp, not too far from the river.  Their wagons were set up in a protective circle, some being used as part of their shelters and other tents standing alone.

“Just me and Dutch,” Arthur replied.

“And our stowaway,” Dutch laughed.

“Ah, we got another mouth to feed?” Davey asked.

“We’ll see,” Dutch said.  “She hasn’t said anything to us yet.”

Arthur parked the wagon while Dutch called over Bessie, Susan, and Annabelle, figuring that the three of them would probably be best at coaxing the girl out of the wagon.  “We’re back at our camp, Miss.  Now, I promise that we mean you no harm.  But we would like you to come out and have some food.  And if after that, you want to be on your way, that’s fine!  You don’t owe us anything.”

Slowly, the pelts shifted once again, and the girl stepped out.  She had dark skin and hair, her threadbare dress was muddy, and her panicked eyes darted between Arthur and Dutch.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I just needed a place to hide, I didn’t mean anything by it.  I’ll just go.”

“Hold on a minute,” Dutch started, reaching out to her.  But she flinched back, so he dropped his hands closer to his sides.  “We don’t mind at all that you hopped in our wagon.  In fact, you look like you could use some help.  I have a saying.  We save fellers as need saving, and feed them as need feeding.  And I have a feeling that you could use a bit of both right about now.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Well, then,” Dutch said.  “How about you get yourself cleaned up before dinner, maybe get you some shoes to wear?  Anna, you think you’ve got something?”

“Between us three and Karen, we’ll have something that will fit her,” Annabelle said, offering out her hand.  “Come on, sweetheart.  What’s your name?”

“Tilly,” the girl said, taking Annabelle’s hand.

“And how old are you, Miss Tilly?”

“Fourteen.”

As Annabelle took Tilly over to Susan’s tent, and Isaac ran up to Arthur.  “Who’s that?  A new family member?”

“Maybe,” Arthur said.  “We don’t know too much about her just yet.  But you know Uncle Dutch.  If she wants to stay, she can stay.”

“Can I go say hi?”

“How about you wait until dinner?  She’s meeting a lot of new people right now.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Are you happy that we’re getting more people in the family?”

“Yeah.  I think it would be neat to have a big sister,” Isaac said.

“You know what?  I think it would be neat, too.  But that’s up to her.  Want to help me take care of Rory and we’ll see if she wants to talk at dinner?”

“Okay!”

“You remember how that harness comes off?” Arthur asked, and let Isaac start taking apart the buckles.

Soon, they were all sitting down for dinner, except for Annabelle and Tilly.  Bessie and Susan let them know that Tilly started to open up to Annabelle, and she’d had a rough life.  And, she was alone in the world, like many of them had been before joining the Van der Linde gang.

But then, Tilly emerged from the tent, guided to the fire by Annabelle.  “Everyone, this is Tilly,” Annabelle said.

“Hi,” Tilly said, shy and ducking her head.

“I’m Isaac!”  Arthur smiled as his son jumped up and ran up to Tilly.  “That’s my Pa.”

Isaac continued to introduce everyone at the fire while Tilly watched silently.  At the end, Isaac asked, “Are you staying with us?”

Tilly looked to Annabelle, then said, “I don’t know.”

“You should!  It’s really fun here.  What do you like to do?”

“Uh…”

“Do you like reading?  I like reading.”

“I don’t know how to read.”

“You don’t?  Uncle Hosea can teach you!  He taught me.”

John jumped in, saying, “Hosea and Dutch taught me how to read, too.  And how to ride horses, and hunt.”

“We’ll keep you safe here,” Annabelle said.

“This is a real decent bunch,” Karen, their newest gang member, added.  “We’re still outlaws, but Dutch has us try to do good, too.”

“What do I have to do?” Tilly asked.

“Nothing,” Annabelle said.

“No,” Tilly said, shaking her head.  “That’s not right.  That’s not how it works.”

“Miss Tilly, we promise you-” Dutch began, but she jumped to her feet, the plate falling to the ground.

“You say that, but-”  She choked on her next words, before changing direction.  “You can have what I took from that man, so we’re even.”  She pulled a few items from the pocket in her dress, shoving them into Dutch’s hands and running from the campfire.  Annabelle and Susan followed her.  Dutch did too, though he kept his distance.

“How about we do the dishes, kiddo,” Arthur said.

“Is Tilly okay?”

“I think she will be.  It’s pretty scary to join a new family when you’ve been on your own for a while.  I remember when Dutch and Hosea first invited me to join them, I didn’t know if I could trust them, either?”

“Really?”

Isaac knew a little about Arthur’s childhood, that Arthur’s mother died when he was very young, that his father was a criminal who died when he was eleven, that he lived on his own for three years, stealing barely enough money and food to survive before Dutch found him.  Arthur made sure to leave out some of the more horrible details.

“Yeah.  I told you that Dutch and Hosea took me in, but did I ever tell you how I met them?” Arthur asked.

“No.”

“I tried robbing Dutch,” he laughed.  “I saw him in town, wearing those rings and his favorite pocket watch, the gold one, you know?  And I thought he was rich, and therefore an easy target.  I grabbed his satchel and ran!  Got the watch, too.”

“And then you tripped on a bucket, if I recall,” Hosea said, joining them at the wash basin.  “You see, Isaac, Arthur here was going through a growth spurt.  And he wasn’t used to having all that extra height.”

“So you caught him?”

“Yep!  Dutch grabbed your pa and demanded he give back his things,” Hosea said.  “I was too busy laughing at him for getting robbed in the first place.”

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Arthur said.  “Or turn me in to the law.  But instead, he brought me back to the camp and gave me some food.  Which I desperately needed at the time.  But still, it took me a while to trust them.”

“And we were very glad when you did open up to us,” Hosea said.  “We were tired of constantly worrying if you were going to run off on us.”

“Ah, well, once I figured out that you really did care about me, I knew better than that.  For the first time in a while, I wasn’t going hungry.”

“We just have to be patient with Tilly,” Hosea told Isaac.  “But I think she could use a good friend like you.”

Arthur felt the same way.  He hoped that Tilly would decide to stay, not only because she’d clearly had a rough, frightening time but also because it would be good for Isaac to have other kids around.  He often worried that Isaac was lonely, being surrounded by adults all day.

Later that night, Arthur and the others gathered in Dutch’s tent to talk about Tilly.

“Alright, what did you learn, Anna?” Dutch asked.  The only original gang member that wasn’t there was Bessie, who was watching over Tilly at the moment.

“Have you ever heard of the Foreman Brothers?  They are gang in Lemoyne.”

“I try to avoid the South,” Dutch said.

“Some members of that gang kidnapped her, about a year ago.  They used her for robberies, as a distraction or for pickpocketing.  She escaped them, and tried to go back home.  But her mother had died, and she’s been on her own ever since.”

“Shit,” Hosea muttered.

“I think there’s more to it than that, but she isn’t telling us just yet.”

“And I take it there’s no father in the picture,” Dutch said.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Well, as long as she is willing to stay, I think we can help her out,” Dutch said, glancing at Arthur and Hosea to get their nods of confirmation.

“Karen offered to share her tent with Tilly,” Annabelle added.

“We should have enough saved up to get her some new clothes, too,” Hosea said.  “Maybe tomorrow you and Bessie can take her into town.”

“We should be careful with that, though.  She was stealing in town,” Arthur said.

“Perhaps one town over,” Dutch said with a laugh.  “Arthur, you mind going with them and keeping them safe?”

“You don’t trust me to do that?” Annabelle asked.  Her tone was light, but her eyes were serious.

“I’m just being cautious,” Dutch said.

Over the last few years, Annabelle’s gun skills had gone from decent for personal protection to rather capable.  She was ready to join the gang’s robberies, but Dutch kept making excuses to keep her out of it.  Arthur suspected why, and he was sure Dutch and Annabelle had many private fights about the issue.

They’d probably have another fight later, but for the moment Annabelle sighed and said, “Fine.”

The next morning, Arthur got the wagon ready and took the girls into town.  Karen tried offering her services as added protection as an excuse to get out of camp chores for the day, but Susan caught her in the attempt.

He could tell that Tilly was torn in whether or not to trust them.  But Bessie’s maternal nature was hard to dismiss, and Arthur saw the first smile emerge on Tilly’ face when Bessie complimented the dresses she tried on.

Annabelle, however, couldn’t keep the scowl off her face.  Wondering what happened the previous night when they left Dutch’s tent and went to sleep, he asked, “You alright?”

She breathed in deep.  “I understand why Dutch doesn’t want me to work jobs or be the only one with a gun when we leave camp, but it’s driving me crazy!  I half want to run off for a few days to prove that I can handle myself!”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I have a feeling that will make things worse.  But I’m just so…”  Annabelle turned her head away, brushing the hair out of her eyes, before continuing with, “I’m so fucking tired of walking on eggshells around Dutch.”

“You were always so good at talking to him, though,” Arthur said.

“Good at it, sure.  Doesn’t mean I’m not tired.”

Arthur sighed.  “You know, I remember how hard it was to convince Dutch that I was ready to go riding by myself again.  He just didn’t want me to be alone out there.  In the end, I just had to sneak out of camp and prove it to him.”

“So, what?  I’m supposed to go work a job without him knowing?”

“I might be able to help you with that,” Arthur said.  “Did Dutch tell you anything about Richard Ainsworth?”

“Not yet.  He hasn’t had the time.”

“Well, he’s some big businessman around here Dutch wanted me to look into.  How about I bring the next lead to you?  I still know a thing or two about planning these things out.  You could take the lead, maybe bring Mac and Davey along as backup.”

“Dutch will be so angry if I do that behind his back,” Annabelle said, pondering the option.  “Screw it, let’s do it.”

Arthur chuckled at her reasoning.  “Really?”

“Call it petty, but I really don’t care if he’s angry right now.  He doesn’t control my life,” Annabelle said, quite determined.

“Well, alright,” said Arthur.  “Next lead I get, I’m bringing it to you.”

Their conversation ended when Bessie returned.  Tilly was wearing a new yellow dress and good shoes.  “What do you think?” Bessie asked.

“You look lovely, sweetheart!” Annabelle said.  “How about after lunch we get your hair done?”

“Okay,” Tilly said.

“Shall we get a table at the saloon?” Bessie suggested.

Tilly smiled more and more while they ate and talked.  They treated themselves to the more expensive roast beef.  “You know, Arthur here can teach you how to ride a horse,” Bessie said.  “He is teaching his son, Isaac.  You can join them for lessons!”

“I know a bit of riding, but I haven’t done it much,” Tilly said.

“Maybe we can run back up to your sister’s and get her a nice Saddler,” Arthur said.

“Not a bad idea!”

“You alright, Bessie?” Annabelle asked suddenly.  “You barely touched your food.”

“Oh, I think my stomach is just acting up, but don’t you worry about me,” said Bessie.

Annabelle frowned, but turned her attention back to Tilly.

Later, as they drove back, Tilly asked, “Do you have a dominoes set?”

Bessie turned quickly and said, “Of course!  Do you like to play?”

“I used to play with my mother all the time.”

“Most of us love dominoes.  Hosea and I play all the time.  Arthur, you like to play, too, right?”

“I do.”

When they got back, Bessie grabbed Hosea while Arthur set up the table.  Tilly, as it turned out, was very good at the all-fives version of the game.  She absolutely destroyed Arthur, and he ducked out early to keep a small shred of his dignity in tact.  The competition between her and Hosea was fierce, and the game lasted far longer than anyone anticipated.

But when it was just about over, Tilly asked, “What happens if I stay?  You guys are outlaws, so you must live on the run.”

“We do,” Hosea said.  “We travel from town to town, working jobs.  But we try to keep our robbing to those rich folk who have more money than they know what to do with, or take advantage of those less privileged around them.”

“Folk who deserve it,” Tilly said.

“Like I said, we try to keep it to that.  We try not to kill anyone, either.  No need to hurt people unnecessarily.”

“So, what do I have to do?” asked Tilly.

“Nothing you aren’t comfortable with, just your fair share,” Hosea reassured her.  “You can help us rob, or you can do chores around camp.  Arthur here has his business making clothes from animal pelts.  Mr. Pearson cooks.  We can find something for you to do.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding.  “I’ll stay.”

“Wonderful!” Hosea said.

“Isaac is going to be happy,” Arthur said.  “Everyone else, too.”

“Oh, by the way,” she said with a sly grin.  “Domino!  I win!”

Arthur would never forget the look on their faces when both Hosea and Bessie were beaten at a game of dominoes.

Chapter Text

When Arthur returned to camp, he put money into their camp box and dropped off some meat for Mr. Pearson. But instead of heading to the fire to relax with the other gang members, he went to Annabelle, whispering in her ear, "Let's take a walk."

Annabelle smiled as she put down the laundry and followed Arthur into the trees. "I take it you found a lead?"

"I did," Arthur said. "Mr. Ainsworth is heading to Chicago in two days, taking a private stagecoach. Now, from what I've heard about Mr. Ainsworth, I figure he should be traveling with quite a bit of cash on him. There will be guards and guns, too, but if they get surrounded on all sides, hopefully they will stand down."

"Hopefully," she repeated.

"You can't predict everything in a robbery," Arthur said. "Most folk aren't willing to die for someone else, but then again, it depends on how much they are paid, and how desperate they are for that money."

"But you believe Mr. Ainsworth doesn't pay them that well."

"We know he doesn't pay the factory workers much. But personal security? I'm not sure," Arthur admitted.

"People like Mr. Ainsworth tend to hold onto every dollar."

"True," Arthur said. "We will need to pick a good location, too. Somewhere they won't see us coming until it's too late."

"Us? Are you robbing again?" Annabelle teased.

"You and whoever you choose to go with you, I mean," Arthur said. "Who are you going with?"

"I was thinking Mac," Annabelle said. "He's a good shot. Plus, I don't believe he'd rat me out to Dutch before the job. Though I do want to go into town tomorrow to see if I can get more information about the number of guards. It might be good to bring Davey or Karen, too."

"Karen said she likes acting, if you want to try for a distraction."

"Maybe. I'll have to think about it." Annabelle glanced back at camp, then said, "Thank you, Arthur."

"Don't mention it."

"Especially in front of Dutch," she joked.

"I ain't sure I want to be there when Dutch finds out about this," Arthur said. "I'm going to get the lecture of a lifetime."

"Oh, I'm sure," said Annabelle. "But I need to do this. I need to prove I can do this."

"Maybe I'll take Isaac on a trip for a few days," Arthur said with a sly grin.

"Don't you dare!"

"How about we ride out to the road tomorrow, look for a good ambush spot?"

"Alright. Leo could use a good stretch of his legs," she said, and they walked back to camp.

The next morning, Arthur and Annabelle saddled their horses and rode to the wooded area just north of town. There were a few bends that would lower the driver's visibility and provided good cover should things go bad. Arthur offered to set up higher up on the hill with a scoped rifle, just in case. He shifted nervously as he gave his reasons, worried that she would see his offer as a lack of trust in her. It certainly wasn't that. But he was the one giving Annabelle the lead, and he knew he would never forgive himself if he made a mistake. Fortunately, Annabelle understood. And there was nothing wrong with a little extra protection.

They then went into town, getting a look at some of the Ainsworth Mansion guards and following a few to lunch at the saloon. They did mention the upcoming trip in passing, mostly to complain about how they'd be missing six of their usual guards.

Arthur gulped. Six guards. More than either he or she expected.

"Guess I should bring someone else," Annabelle said. "I was thinking Karen. If she can get them to pull over, then Mac and I can come out on either side."

"Kind of reminds me of John's first stagecoach," Arthur said.

"Yeah, except that didn't go so well."

"Oh, the robbery went fine. Everything after, well, that wasn't a problem with the stagecoach."

"I have to admit, I'm a little nervous."

"You'll be fine," Arthur said. "You think we should let Hosea know what we're doing though? In case we need to get bailed out of jail?"

Annabelle laughed. "No. The less people who know at this point, the better."

The stagecoach was supposed to leave early the next day, so Arthur, Annabelle, Mac, and Karen got up earlier, sneaking out of the camp before Dutch or Hosea had a chance to stir. They did leave a note, claiming to be looking into a lead that required a lot of travel time. Though as they waved to John on their way out of camp, John narrowed his eyes, giving them a suspicious look.

After all, they didn't need four people to look into a lead.

"Here's the spot," Annabelle said to Mac and Karen. "Karen, you need them to pull over and get their eyes on you."

"I can put on a show. Maybe a drunken harlot? Should distract the guards," Karen said, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her dress.

"Where is this drunken harlot coming from? The woods?" Arthur laughed.

"Makes the performance more intriguing," Karen said, messing up her hair.

"I think Karen knows what she's doing," Annabelle said.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Mac said, giving Karen a once-over. She slapped him over the back of his head.

"You seem to got it together," said Arthur. "I'll be on top of that hill."

"There aren't that many places with good visibility," Mac said.

"I'll adjust position once they've stopped. Should be enough time."

With that, Arthur rode Boadicea up the hill, finding a spot between the trees where he could see Karen. Mac and Annabelle took either side of the road, bandannas on and ready. They didn't have to wait long. Right on schedule, the coach rolled through the woods with the six promised guards, two flanking each side, one in front, and one bringing up the rear.

"Excuse me," Karen said, stumbling out onto the road and slurring her words. "I seem to have… lost my way. Can you direct me to the saloon?"

"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to move out of the way," the driver said, pulling up the wagon. The front guards moved up with interest.

"You got to know," she continued, pointing at him. Arthur shifted his position slightly to get a better view.

"I think she's had more than enough," one of the guards laughed.

"Go move her out of the way, Tommy," another said.

Tommy jumped off his horse, continuing to laugh and jeer at Karen's drunken antics, until he got too close. She drew her revolver in a second, smacking him over the head and sending him to the ground, unconscious. "Nobody move!" she cried, bringing her own bandanna up in the hope that, between her loose hair and downward glance, no one would remember her face.

The guards moved for their own guns, and that's when Mac and Annabelle appeared. "I wouldn't try that," she said. "Richard Ainsworth! Come on out. I've heard you have quite the rich man. Share some of that wealth, and you can be on your way!"

"You're making a big mistake!" a guard said.

"I doubt that. Don't make a mistake yourself," Mac said.

"Shit," Arthur muttered to himself. The guards weren't backing down.

"Walk away, now!" the guard said.

"Ainsworth!" Annabelle called to the coach instead.

Arthur saw it at the same time as Karen. The guard closest to Annabelle was drawing his weapon, but Karen was faster. The guard died from a bullet to the chest, and the others quickly followed as Annabelle and Mac fired, too. Arthur watched from above, ready to provide cover fire, but then, it stopped. The driver had his shaking hands up, saying to them, "Mr. Ainsworth isn't in the coach! I'm telling the truth! He was supposed to be, and then there was an emergency."

"Then who is? Open up!" Annabelle said.

The door didn't open.

"Now!"

Still, it didn't open. Annabelle signaled to Mac, who wrenched the doors open.

And out came two young children, a boy and a girl, holding hands.

"Shit!" Arthur said from his perch, quickly shouldering his rifle and heading down the hill. He wasn't entirely sure what he intended to do. Perhaps it was just a paternal instinct.

"I was to take them to their grandmother's estate outside Chicago," the driver continued.

Annabelle sighed and said, "I would take them back to town, for their safety. And quickly."

The driver didn't need to be told twice. He shuffled the children back into the coach, turned it around, and took off.

Arthur walked out of the trees, Boadicea trailing behind. "I'm sorry, Annabelle, I didn't know!"

"You couldn't have known. It seems as if it were a last minute change," Annabelle said.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said again.

"We should get out of here," Mac said.

"Right. Split up?" Annabelle said, directing the question to Arthur.

"Yeah. I might follow a bit behind the coach, make sure it gets back to town."

"You don't think they'll suspect you?" Annabelle asked.

"Not if I start shouting about bodies the second I see a lawman. They might question me, but all I have to say is I came across some dead along the road. They shouldn't suspect a one-legged man. But here." He handed his scoped rifle and his bandanna, which he still wore out of habit, to Mac in order to eliminate suspicion around him. "I guess we'll have to push off your discussion with Dutch."

She nodded. "I don't want to tell him with nothing to show for it. So you're sworn to secrecy, you two."

Mac and Karen nodded, then disappeared in opposite directions. Annabelle watched Arthur go before doing to same.

After all four gang members successfully returned to camp, Arthur and Annabelle silently agreed to take some time before they tried finding another job for her. They didn't want to raise suspicion with Dutch, or too many of the gang members, for that matter. If the wrong person should say something around Dutch, it would spark an argument that could last for days.

Annabelle also avoided going into town, just in case she was recognized. But Arthur went with Uncle, as usual, which caused an awkward situation when Uncle pointed at the bounty poster board on their way in and said, "That one looks like Annabelle!"

"Oh, no," Arthur muttered, jumping down and ripping the poster off the board. Her nose and mouth were drawn wrong, but her eyes, forehead, and hair were close. Uncanny. Next to her were images of Mac and Karen.

"Wait, it is her!"

"Don't say a word around camp, old man," Arthur said.

"Why not?" Uncle asked, grabbing the poster. "Stagecoach robbery, it must have been a good take."

"It wasn't. We thought that Mr. Ainsworth would be in the back, but it was his children instead."

"Bad luck."

"It's more than that if there's posters around. Help me keep an eye out for more, will you?"

Uncle found a second one on a pole at the other end of town. Arthur could hear him brushing off comments from the locals about how he was the oldest bounty hunter they'd ever seen, but Uncle successfully returned with the poster. Arthur hid both in his satchel, and looked for Annabelle as soon as they got back to camp.

"Hey, Anna, there's something you should see," Arthur began, trying to pull her aside. And then…

"Annabelle!" Dutch shouted, raging into camp after he got off Nero and throwing the reins to a confused John. He held up a third poster. "Is this you?"

Arthur cringed. They hadn't found all the posters.

Annabelle ducked her head for just a second, then brought her eyes back up and squared her shoulders. Prepared. Confident, Arthur would say.

"Yes, it's me."

"You robbed a stagecoach? Behind my back?" Dutch said, his composure slipping to make way for anger.

"I tried to do this with you! I've been asking to be brought in on jobs," Annabelle said. "You don't even want me going anywhere alone!"

"It's for your protection!"

"It's controlling! There's not a single adult here that isn't free to come and go as they please. But how dare I want the same for myself!"

Arthur glanced around the camp. Everyone was watching, awkward and unsure about what to do. But Arthur was looking for Isaac, figuring he could take the boy out of camp while Dutch and Annabelle had it out.

"So because I've been denying you your freedom, as you believe, you go behind my back with Mac and Karen to rob a stagecoach?"

"How else was I supposed to do it?"

"But why this? Are you trying to make up what happened in Oregon?"

"Excuse me? I should think it's the other way around!"

Arthur saw Isaac peering at them from inside his tent. "Hey, Isaac, let's go for a ride."

"And how much did you get from this stagecoach? What was so worth taking that risk?"

"We didn't get anything. It seemed like a good lead, but things changed at the last second. Arthur-"

"Arthur?" Dutch asked, low and dangerous. "What does Arthur have to do with any of this?"

Hosea, who was also watching, raised an eyebrow and said, "Maybe you guys should take this out of camp."

After whispering in Isaac's ear to go hang out with Bessie for a while, Arthur stepped forward. "I brought Annabelle the lead. She wanted to work a job, so I helped her."

"And you didn't tell me? You-"

"Anna wanted to do it. She knows the risks!"

"And if she'd gotten hurt, what then?" Dutch asked, advancing on Arthur. "What if you'd gotten the woman I love killed?"

He flinched back, just a little, in the face of Dutch's ferocity. He hoped his voice didn't betray him with a small shake when he repeated, "She wanted to do it."

"I won't lose Annabelle," Dutch said, moving even closer to Arthur's face. Arthur held his breath, staying firm.

"You're losing me right now," Annabelle whispered.

Arthur wasn't sure if she meant for Dutch to hear it, but he did. He turned, his eyes wide. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You insist on treating me differently than everyone else in this gang. They are all family to you, and they're all family to me! Does it not bother you that they are risking themselves doing jobs?"

"That's different! They have more experience-"

"And where did Arthur get that experience, huh?" Annabelle asked. "What about John? You taught them everything! How am I different?"

"Because you are!" Dutch said, reaching for her. "You are my-"

But she backed away. "No. I'm not your possession. You don't get to decide what I do. I won't have our boys going out there without me any longer. Either accept that, or…"

"Or, what?"

Annabelle waited for a moment, to see if Dutch would say anything else, then turned towards their shared tent. "Susan, do you mind sharing your tent for a bit?"

Susan blinked, then managed to say, "No problem."

A few people took their leave. Karen pulled Tilly aside and began gossiping, filling Tilly in on everything she knew about Annabelle and Dutch's relationship. Uncle just patted a motionless Dutch on the shoulder as he walked by. Hosea and Bessie slipped away, figuring they could use a little space. Arthur grabbed John and Isaac for a ride, but as they mounted up and headed down the trail, he couldn't help but look back at Dutch. He was still standing in the middle of camp, watching Annabelle move her belongings into Susan's tent.

"What's going to happen to Anna and Dutch?" Isaac asked once they were out of the camp.

"I don't know," Arthur said honestly. "Are you worried?"

"A little."

John was distressed as well. "They've never fought like that before!"

"They used to fight all the time."

"Not like that," John insisted. Arthur had to admit that he was right.

"Is Anna going to leave?" Isaac asked.

"I doubt it. She and Dutch will avoid each other for a while. They've always worked it out in the past."

"I hope so," John said.

They continued on in silence for a bit, all wondering what to say. Instead, Arthur suggested that they try picking up the pace, smiling when Isaac kicked Daisy into an easy trot.

"That's good, keep your hands steady," Arthur said. "Feeling good?"

"Yeah."

"You're pretty good at that," John said.

"Thanks, John!"

"You been taking good care of Daisy for me?" John asked.

"Yeah, thank you for letting me have her," said Isaac. "She's really nice."

"Isaac will be ready for a race soon. I bet he could beat you and Moose, though how much of a competition that would be…"

"Shut up, Arthur," John said. "Maybe we should try again!"

"Fine! We'll need to find a good spot, and Isaac can tell us who wins."

They found a large, open area and set Isaac up at the finish line. John and Moose did better than their first time against Arthur and Boadicea, but they still lost. "We'll get them one day, boy," John said, patting Moose's neck.

"Can we race, Pa?" Isaac asked.

"Let's work on that canter, first. Then we'll have a race," Arthur said.

While their distraction was good for a few hours, it was hard to escape the agitation once they returned to camp, especially in the days after. Annabelle spent most of her time with Bessie, Susan, and Tilly, pointedly ignoring Dutch. Dutch, on the other hand, ranted and raved to anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. Especially at Arthur for going behind his back.

"You think this is it for them?" Arthur asked Hosea when they were out hunting.

"I hope not. But I won't pretend like this will just go away. Even if they do get back together, I don't think things will ever truly be as they were."

"I guess."

"A change in their relationship might not be a bad thing, Arthur."

"Yeah, I know. I just worry that Annabelle is going to leave one day."

Annabelle didn't leave, nor did she and Dutch get back together. Their argument became static. Neither would yield. Arthur hoped that things would eventually cool off, and in a way, it did. Annabelle ignored Dutch and began to actively participate in planning and working jobs. Dutch ignored Annabelle, spending more time talking with Hosea and Arthur about the gang's future than complaining about her. Life in camp simply began to move on.

But it all came to a stop one morning when Bessie collapsed.

Chapter Text

The doctor said it was her heart. An irregular pulse, and one that couldn't manage stress or an elevated heart rate. He said a lot of other medical nonsense, too, but Hosea got the gist. Her heart wasn't beating correctly, and now it had caused her to faint. She needed plenty of rest, but there was a high risk that her heart had become damaged, and a similar event could happen again. And if it happened again…

The doctor didn't need to continue. Hosea squeezed Bessie's hand, finally letting the tears fall as the doctor gave Hosea an apologetic pat on the shoulder and left the room.

"Oh, Bessie," he started, with no idea where to even take the sentence.

She gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand back. "I think it might be best to go back to Indiana," she said.

"Yeah," Hosea said, nodding. "Yeah, we can go. We'll go as soon as you feel up to it."

"I think I can lay in the back of a wagon while you drive," she joked. Hosea couldn't believe she was joking right now. "I want to see Amy. The ranch will be quieter, calmer. And if… when…"

"Don't say it. Please, just don't," Hosea said.

"Hosea, darling, I don't want to be buried alone in the woods, somewhere no one knows about."

"I know," Hosea said. "We'll move to the ranch. We can have our boys visit for a bit, too. It will be good for them." And good for Bessie.

"I'd like that very much," Bessie said.

Hosea leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "You rest. I'll let Arthur know what's going on."

Arthur was second to Bessie's side after she collapsed, helping carry her to the wagon that the others had hastily prepared. He drove, too, without anyone needing to ask. Seeing as Hosea wasn't capable of that at the time, or even now, he was grateful.

Arthur sat up as soon as Hosea walked out the building and asked, "She okay?"

"She's resting right now," Hosea said. "But she's far from okay, Arthur. She- she's-"

He collapsed into Arthur, weeping as the reality began to sink in. She was dying, his wife, his love for over a decade, the woman he believed he would spend the rest of his days with.

How many days did they have left? How many days could he go on alone?

Arthur didn't say a word. Surely, he was shocked, too, but holding it in for Hosea's sake. Finally, Arthur said, "Come on, let's get her home."

Arthur helped carry Bessie again, but this time she was simply exhausted, not terrified and in pain. Hosea tucked the blankets around her and under her as a pillow. "You warm enough, my dear?" he asked.

"Just fine."

"Comfortable?"

"As comfortable as I can be, I'm sure," she said.

"The doctor gave me something to help you relax, well, it's a sedative. Do you need it?" Hosea asked.

"Not yet, I don't think. Perhaps we should save it for the trip," Bessie sighed sleepily.

"Bessie, I don't want you to be in pain. We can always get more."

"I'm tired enough without it, darling." Bessie squeezed his hand, the grip weak, and let her eyes fall shut.

After a moment, Arthur asked, "What trip?"

"Indiana. She wants to go to Indiana. I'm going, too."

"Of course."

"And I was hoping that you and Isaac could join us for a bit. John, too, and Tilly."

"I'll be there, for as long as you need," Arthur said.

All heads turned to the wagon as soon as they returned to camp. Bessie was fast asleep, so they let her rest in the wagon a little longer. Arthur took Isaac by the hand, signaling for John and Tilly to follow, giving Hosea privacy to talk to Dutch while Susan sat with Bessie.

"You do what you have to do, Hosea," Dutch said after Hosea explained his plan to take Bessie back to the ranch.

"I want to bring our kids, too. For Bessie," said Hosea.

To that, Dutch frowned. "Why doesn't she stay here, if she wants to be with the boys? We can make sure she gets plenty of rest."

"First of all, this camp is loud and chaotic on a good day," Hosea said. "And second, she wants to be with her sister."

"We can always look into jobs near Indiana, so that we're close," Dutch began, but Hosea shook his head.

"I don't think it would be a good idea. I think it would cause more worries than we need," Hosea said.

"Arthur and Isaac can certainly accompany you to the ranch, but I need John here."

"Why?" Hosea asked.

"We need guns at camp, Hosea."

Hosea was dumbstruck. When he did manage to stammer a response, he said, "This is for my wife!"

"I get that. I do."

"Then why-"

"It just ain't possible right now."

"And what job does John need to be here for anyway? What could be so important? Because last I heard, we didn't have anything lined up."

"Why does John need to be in Indiana doing nothing while Bessie rests?"

"And this ain't just about rest, Dutch!"

It was a vigil.

Death had always been a tough subject for Dutch. If they planned enough or ran fast enough, they could pretend that death was avoidable for them. Dutch ignored the inevitability. Hosea was able to as well, at least for a while. But not anymore.

"Listen to me," Hosea said, breathing deep. "I don't know what's going on with you, and I know things are tense between you and Annabelle right now. But I have to be there for my wife, and I'm hoping you could understand and let me do what's best for her!"

Dutch dropped his head into his hands. "Of course," he said. "Of course. We can manage. Take the boys. Take Miss Tilly, if she wants to go."

Hosea ignored how Dutch turned his simple request into an act of charity. "Thank you. We'll be off soon, probably tomorrow if Bessie feels she can handle it."

Hosea left Dutch in his tent and made the rounds, informing their family about what happened and that Bessie would be leaving the camp. He couldn't bring himself to outright say it, but everyone understood the implication. She wasn't coming back. Even if resting did help and she didn't have another episode, camp life was too strenuous and stressful.

Arthur and John immediately agreed to come. Tilly was taken aback by the invite, perhaps because she was still new to the family, but she quickly agreed as well. Annabelle volunteered to go, too, and they all began to pack.

Susan spent the evening sitting with Bessie, helping regulate the visitors wanting to say their goodbyes through tears of her own. They left early in the morning, with Arthur and Annabelle alternating driving the wagon. They moved at a crawl. There were times, when Bessie's breathing seemed to slow under the heavy blanket of medication, that Hosea feared he had made a mistake. That moving her to Indiana was making things worse, that she might have had a chance of surviving otherwise. And his thoughts worsened each day as it took more and more effort to rouse Bessie for some food and water, her eyes more and more delirious and weary as they met his teary gaze. But they made it, Amy meeting them at the ranch entrance, having received their rushed telegrams.

And then there were more doctors, and more of the same news. That her heart had weakened. That she needed bed rest. The news was delivered the same way, too, with a pat on the shoulder and pity.

Amy wanted her reverend to come and pray with the family. Hosea sat silent while they did, holding Bessie's hand and letting the words bounce around his head. The words mocked him. They were of mercy, of health, of guidance in the face of hardship. Of forgiveness for any sins committed, so that Bessie could meet God in heaven. As if Bessie had ever done anything that would require mercy or forgiveness.

Hosea didn't say, "Amen," with the others. After all, what god would be so cruel as to take sweet, kind Bessie instead of a sinner like him?

Then, Bessie woke up.

She whispered his name, curled her fingers around his hand, and he cried. The others were overjoyed to see her, to talk to her, to offer their comfort and support. But her recovery from their travel didn't mean her health was improving, as the doctor kept reminding him. As if he couldn't see it himself.

The doctor imposed strict rules. No activity other than a short walk, with support and only if she felt up to it. No coffee, no cigarettes. Those increased the heart rate, the doctor claimed, and anything faster than her heart's resting rate was dangerous. Bessie accepted it, as if instinctively knowing that she'd crossed a limit there was no coming back from. Hosea wasn't sure he'd fair the same, if the positions were reversed.

And while he had no idea if it was helping, it certainly wasn't hurting. Hell, maybe it would help, and Bessie would get better. She seemed stronger on a few days. Could talk a little longer, smile a little wider. Not that she would ever be back to where she was, of course. Hosea was realistic, but there were days when he felt a small spark of hope that she would get better enough to where he didn't feel like she could slip away at any moment.

Other days, he wondered if he should call the reverend again.

On good days, Hosea was able to take notice of the others. Annabelle often sat and talked with Bessie, the two of them reading books and catching up on the local gossip. He overheard Bessie asking Annabelle about Dutch one day. "Let me guess, you think we should work it out," Annabelle said.

"Only if Dutch can get his act together," Bessie laughed tiredly. "I know you love him dearly."

"I do," Annabelle sighed. "Even though he's being an ass right now, I still do."

"But you need to tell him what's best for you, and either he can work with that, or he won't."

"You make it sound so easy," Annabelle said. "Not everyone gets someone like Hosea."

"You're right. I'm the luckiest woman in the world," Bessie said, if a little smug. "Now, then, let's figure out what you are going to say to that moron when you see him next."

Arthur took on most of the responsibilities around the house, though Annabelle made certain he wasn't sacrificing his own time with Bessie for the sake of the others. Isaac always visited with him, and Hosea's heart ached for the child, so close to losing the woman who had become a second mother only a few years after his first.

"Why can't she get better? It's not fair!" Isaac cried into Arthur's shoulder one morning. A private moment, one that Arthur and Annabelle had worked hard to keep Hosea and Bessie from seeing, one that he wouldn't have seen if Annabelle hadn't kicked him out to get a second of fresh air.

"I know," Arthur whispered into Isaac's hair, rocking him back and forth. "I know, I know. We don't get know how long our family will be with us, and it ain't ever fair."

"It should be fair," Isaac sobbed.

"I agree," Arthur said. "But we know it's coming now. So, we can make sure we're spending time with Bessie and taking care of her, okay? We can remember all the fun times we had, too. Remember when we went to that beach in California?"

Isaac sniffled and said, "Yeah."

"Bessie taught us how to make those sand castles. Said she learned how to do it as a kid at Lake Michigan, and always wanted to try it at the ocean, remember? We spent hours making it just right. And Copper destroyed it in two seconds!"

Isaac half-hiccupped and half-giggled, just a little. "He was chasing a seagull and it landed on our castle."

"Yep, and he was absolutely covered in sand. I had to throw him in the ocean. And then he went and rolled in the sand again!"

Isaac laughed more openly that time, but then stopped himself, almost guilty.

Arthur noticed, and said, "Hey, listen to me. It's okay to remember the happy times and laugh a little. We're sad enough most of the time. And you know what? I bet Bessie would laugh too if you told her that story."

"Really? Would that help?"

"I bet it would help a lot. Maybe we could make her some eggs, too, just like last time we were here."

"But that's breakfast food!"

"Ah, I think we can break a few rules once in a while. Have some breakfast for lunch." Arthur looked around the yard for something, and ended up spotting Hosea. He turned back to Isaac and said, "How about you run and get John and Tilly? We'll all make eggs together. It'll be more fun that way!"

"Okay," Isaac said, hopping off Arthur's lap and beginning his search for the others.

Arthur turned to Hosea, watching him carefully, but Hosea smiled through his leaking eyes. "When did you grow up so much?"

"I'm not sure," Arthur said. "I guess I had some good teachers."

Hosea wrapped his arms around Arthur, choking back sobs. "You had sand in your tent for weeks. You kept finding more and more of it."

"Every time Copper shook, it just fell out of him."

"Bessie and Susan kept complaining about your laundry," Hosea said. "I wish we had brought him along."

They decided to leave Copper back at camp, worried that the dog would cause problems during their slow travels. It was probably for the best, but they all missed having him, and his antics, around.

"You doing alright?" Arthur asked him.

"No."

"Want to make eggs with us?"

Hosea nodded.

Arthur remembered his cooking lessons, and Hosea was able to check in with the rest of the family. Tilly and John were struggling, too, but the family activity did brighten their spirits a little.

Bessie was awake when they brought in the plates, she was even propped up on a mountain of pillows. "Breakfast for lunch?" Arthur asked as he brought in the tray.

"Oh, what a good idea," she said. Her voice was weak and strained, but it couldn't hide her joy at seeing all of them. They ate and shared stories. Arthur and John got into arguments over whose fault certain incidents were, Isaac talked about the beach. Many of their stories were new to Tilly, and Hosea became worried that she would feel left out. But instead, she soaked them up, enjoying hearing about the adventures of her new family.

Eventually, they left to let Bessie rest. And she did, for a little. When she woke up a few hours later, Hosea was still at her side. She lifted her head at the sounds of their kids playing outside. She turned to Hosea and asked, "Could you help me to the porch, darling? For a bit of sun?"

"Of course!" he said, leaping to his feet. "Let me set up a chair outside, then I'll come get you."

Her arms shook as he held her, trying to keep her steps steady. But her smile made it was worth the effort, and it sparked a new hope in Hosea.

Briefly.

Hosea and Bessie watched as their kids and Annabelle ran around the yard, playing tag, all smiles and laughter after days of sadness and sorrow. "Today is a good day," Bessie said after watching for a while. "And I'm glad I'm able to spend it out here."

"Me, too," Hosea said, squeezing her hand.

"I'm not sure how many good days I have left," she admitted.

"Don't say that."

"Hosea-"

"Please, please don't," he begged her. "I don't want to think about this, not today. Not ever."

"But I do," Bessie said. "I have to. Because I can't ignore it, and I need to know that you'll be okay when I'm gone."

"How? How can I ever be okay?" he cried.

She brushed a tear out of his eye with her thumb, cupping his cheek. "I don't know. But please try. Because I love you. And I love Arthur, and Isaac, and John, and our new daughter, Tilly… our whole family," she said with a smile. "We raised some good ones, didn't we?"

"We did," Hosea said, wrapping an arm around her. "And I… I will try. I don't know how, but I'll try."

"Good," she said, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder. "Can I ask you for one more favor?"

"Anything."

"When you remember these days, remember this one as the last," Bessie said.

"What?"

"I don't mean you should… forget the coming days," she continued. "Just rearrange it. So that when you look back, you think of this, the good day, not the bad."

Hosea didn't believe he'd ever be able to consider anything to be good from these last days, but for her? He could try.

"Thank you," she said when he told her, and she turned her eyes back to their kids, still leaning against him.

Bessie passed in her sleep four days later, in the early hours of the morning.

Hosea held her and screamed.

The days followed in a blur for Hosea. The arrangements. The attempted words of comfort. The funeral. He went through the motions listlessly.

They buried her under a tree on top of the hill, overlooking the ranch. Flowers were planted. Everyone mentioned what a pretty spot it was and how she would have liked it. As if they knew how she felt.

And then they went back to camp. To more condolences and platitudes. And soon the other gang members became wrapped up in jobs and chores. But Hosea couldn't. Her absence consumed him.

When Hosea couldn't deal with the loss any longer, he turned to drink.

And he was never able deal with it.

Chapter Text

John approached him as soon as he got back into camp, a deer carcass draped over Boadicea’s rump.  “Arthur?” he started.

“What is it, John?”

“Hosea’s drinking again.  Over on that log.”  The log in question was on the edge of camp, half hidden in the dark behind the bushes.

“And no one stopped him?”

“Most folk are out,” John said.  “Anna, Karen, and the Callanders went to the saloon.  Dutch is meeting with that guy, again.”

“That Trelawny?”

“Yeah.  I tried to stop Hosea, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Arthur sighed.  “Can you take care of Bo?”

“Sure.”

“Where’s Isaac?”

“With the girls.”

“Good.”

Ever since they returned from Indiana, ever since Bessie’s funeral, really, Hosea couldn’t be found far from a bottle.  If they didn’t catch Hosea before he started drinking, it was nearly impossible to get him to stop.  They all tried, with limited success.  Now, Arthur found himself focusing on keeping Hosea alive rather than coaxing him to start living.  Because until Hosea opened up and talked to them, it was all he knew how to do.

“Hosea?” he called to the older man.  The whiskey bottle was almost half empty, and Hosea was slumped on his side.  “Shit, not again.  Come on, old man, get up,” he said, shaking Hosea’s shoulder.

“Arthur?” Hosea groaned.

“Yeah, it’s me.  Time for bed.”

Arthur tried reaching for the whiskey, but Hosea yanked it away.  “Leave me be.”

“Hosea-” he tried again.

“Leave me be!” Hosea shouted, swinging the bottle at Arthur.

And on impulse, Arthur flinched back.  Even years later, he still couldn’t stop the reaction.  It would be so easy to catch Hosea’s arm, stop his off-balance swing and keep Hosea from falling into the mud.  But he didn’t, and Hosea fell.

And Hosea began to sob, again.

“Come on, Hosea,” Arthur said, grabbing his arm again.  This time, Hosea let him.  “You need water, a bit of food, and sleep.”

“No.”

“Yes.  I ain’t losing you, Hosea, so you’ve got to drink something that isn’t booze.”

He wrenched the bottle from Hosea’s hand and replaced it with a canteen of water.  Hosea didn’t seem to notice, even after Arthur deposited him into his bedroll.  “I need her back, Arthur,” he cried.

“Hosea…”

“Everyday without her… it shouldn’t have been her.”

“Go to sleep, Hosea,” Arthur said, never sure how to respond to Hosea’s comment.  Every night, Hosea managed to shatter his heart.  Arthur understood.  But even at Arthur’s lowest moments, he was able to bounce back because he had support from Hosea and Dutch. 

Hosea wasn’t accepting their help.  And with how drunk Hosea was that night, he quickly passed out.

Arthur went to the girls’ tent once he was sure Hosea was settled.  “Hey, Isaac, I’m home,” he said as he entered.

“Hi, Pa!” Isaac said, barely looking up from the domino game he had set up with Susan and Tilly.

“How did you get on today, Mr. Morgan?” Susan asked.

“Well, I dropped off a deer for Pearson.  And put Hosea to bed,” he said pointedly to her.

“That man doesn’t listen to me anymore.  I’ve tried-”

“Maybe if you didn’t yell at him,” Arthur said.

“Excuse me?”

Arthur brushed her off, saying, “Never mind, I ain’t in the mood.”

“I can’t help him if he won’t listen, Mr. Morgan,” Susan said.

Arthur ignored her.  “Who’s turn is it?”

“Mine,” Isaac said.  “I can’t decide between these two.”

“Huh.”

Arthur reached for the tiles, and Susan tried to slap his hand away.  “Don’t help him!”

“Why?  Afraid he’ll win?” Arthur asked with a grin before pointing at the piece on the left.  “Play that one.”

“I wish I knew how to help Mr. Matthews,” Tilly said, fiddling with her next piece before putting it down next to Isaac’s.

“We all do, sweetheart,” Arthur said.  After three months, Arthur hoped that Hosea would stop his destructive spiral, but nothing was changing.

“Maybe we could convince Hosea to take a trip into town tomorrow,” Tilly said.  “He hasn’t left camp in so long.  We could all go.”

“Worth a try,” Arthur agreed.

And they did try, hoping to entice Hosea into checking out the town’s bookstore with them.  But Hosea wouldn’t move from his bedroll.  Disappointed but not surprised, Arthur decided to take Tilly and Isaac into town, anyway.  Karen came along, too, wanting to buy some things from the general store.

“Go on, now, both of you pick something out.  My treat,” Arthur said to Tilly and Isaac, handing Tilly some money.  “Karen and I will be at the general store.”

Karen nudged him as they walked across the street.  “You know, when I first met you, I’d never have guessed you were such a softy.”

“Who, me?”

“Yeah!  Big, tough Arthur Morgan always hauling animals and pelts over your shoulder like they weigh nothing.  I figured you liked to wrestle bears in your spare time, not take your son on rides and draw flowers in your journal.”

“Karen, if you looked in my journal-”

“No, I would never!  I asked John what you wrote in there.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.  “Of course he told you that it’s flowers.  They’re local herbs!”

Karen paused at the general store door.  “You need anything inside?”

“Naw, I’ll wait for you out here.”

He sat on a bench and leaned back, stretching his legs and surveying the town.  It was much like their normal stops, with a train station, a general store, and a bank.  Arthur took a moment to study the small, brick building.  One guard outside, maybe another inside.  Should be easy enough.  The gang had hit several banks on the West Coast, and it was usually the last thing they did when they were prepared to move on.

But for the first time since their gang’s founding, Hosea wouldn’t be a part of it.

Arthur eyes drifted away from the bank to the man struggling with his two shire horses down the road.  He was trying to hitch them to the wagon, but one of the horses was spooked by a sign flapping in the wind.  He sighed, getting up to help the man, when the horse broke free.  It galloped down the road, right towards a woman crossing the street.

“Hey, look out!” Arthur shouted, jumping out into the street to try to grab or at least divert the horse.  The shire did change directions upon seeing him, but the heavy horse couldn’t turn very quickly.  It bumped Arthur’s shoulder, knocking him into the mud.

“Oh, sir, are you alright?” the woman asked.

Arthur groaned.  His wooden leg was not sitting correctly.  Hopefully the strap wasn’t broken.  “I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Let me help you up,” she said.  But before he could take her offered hand, she gasped, “Arthur?”

Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun behind her head, a loose piece hanging over the mark on her cheek, and her eyes full of surprise and concern.  “Mary?” he said, stunned.

Arthur hadn’t seen Mary since she broke off their engagement, a long time ago, now.  At the time, he’d been understanding and yet heartbroken.  Mary had been the first person he’d truly been interested in, the first person he loved.  The gang tried to console him.  Well, Hosea, Bessie, and Annabelle tried to console him.  Dutch and Susan mostly bragged that they’d been right about Mary.  That a high-society girl like her would never abandon her pearls and her gowns to run with a bunch of outlaws.  But he still spent many nights drowning his sorrows at a local saloon.

Which was where he met Eliza.

Arthur staggered to his feet, his wooden leg definitely twisted out of place.  Mary noticed the problem too, gasping, “Is your leg alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, half-dragging it behind him as he made his way back to the bench.  Arthur had taken to wearing a pair of batwing chaps to protect his wooden leg, so for the moment, his knee looked dislocated.

Mary’s eyes bugged out even further when Arthur pulled the wooden leg off.  “What happened?” she asked.

“Long story,” Arthur said.  “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for our train,” she said carefully.  “Me and Barry… my fiance.”

“You got engaged.”  He didn’t mean to sound dumbfounded, but it still slipped out.  He could see the ring on her finger, a diamond, so different from the one he gave her.

“Yes, I-”

Whatever she was going to say next was interrupted by Isaac running across the road, yelling, “Pa!  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Isaac.  Just got knocked over.”

Mary, just as surprised by this new revelation, said, “You have a kid?”

“Yeah.  Guess we have a lot to catch up on.”

Then the man who Arthur assumed to be her fiance appeared, as did Tilly and Karen.  After some chaotic introductions and conversation, Karen took Tilly and Isaac to the nearby stables to look at the horses, winking over her shoulder as she left.  Mary’s fiance let Mary and Arthur get a cup of coffee alone after she explained that they were old friends.

“So, things are pretty different now, huh?” Mary said nervously.  “You have a son.”

“I have a son,” he repeated.

“When did that happen?”

“Not long after we ended things,” he admitted.  “Her name was Eliza.”

“Are you two married?”

“No.  She, uh, she died.  Was killed, while I was out with Isaac.”

“I’m sorry,” Mary said, placing her hand over his own.

“Yeah, me too.  We weren’t married, or anything like that.  But I would visit, bring them money.”

“And your leg?”

“Nasty run-in with the O’Driscoll gang,” Arthur said.

“I take it you aren’t with the gang anymore, then,” she said, almost hopeful.

“I’m still with them.”

Mary frowned, shaking her head.  “Oh, Arthur, even with your boy?”

“It ain’t like that,” Arthur said.  “I’m not robbing anymore.  I help bring in money in other ways.  Hunting, pelts…”  Mary huffed, rolled her eyes at him, and Arthur sighed.  “Don’t look at me like that.  They are family to me and Isaac.”

“He’s a child!”

“And he’s my child.  I decide what’s best for him.  Just because you didn’t want to live that life doesn’t mean it’s not working for me and him.”

Mary brushed the loose hair away from her face, not meeting his eyes.  “There we go, fighting again,” she said.

“I don’t mean to,” Arthur said.

“I know.”

“So, uh, Barry Linton?  How long… how did you meet?”

She bit her lip lightly, then said, “Daddy introduced us.  Once Jamie went off to boarding school, he started pushing me to find a husband.  And Barry is nice, and sweet.”

“He a good man?”

“He is.”

“He treats you right?”

“He does.”

“And you’re happy?”

He thought he imagined the slight hesitation before she said, “Yes.  I am.”

“Good,” Arthur said.

Mary studied him while he took a sip of coffee.  “Are you alright, Arthur?”

He almost lied.  Almost.  But Mary had been the one person who he could always talk to about his fears and his doubts, and it all spilled out.  Bessie’s death.  Hosea’s drinking.  Dutch’s and Annabelle’s continuing relationship problems.

By the time he was done, they were on their third cup of coffee.  “I just don’t know how to help him, Mary. I’ve never seen Hosea like this before.”

“You mean the drinking?”

“Not just that.  He doesn’t care about anything anymore.  He just wants to be with her, and she’s gone.”

“I wish I knew what to say,” Mary said.

“Yeah, me too,” Arthur replied.

“Maybe… oh, I don’t know,” Mary started.  “Find a way to remind him that there’s still plenty of good left in the world?”

“If only it were that easy,” he lamented.

“I know.”  Mary fiddled with her mug.  “Just be there for him, you know?  Sit with him, talk to him.  Keep him busy so he doesn’t think about the drink.  And then maybe he’ll open up to you.  Maybe not, but…”

“I’ll try,” Arthur said.

They sat in silence for while.  Just being with her, Arthur was overwhelmed by memories and old feelings.  He still loved her, a realization that normally would have driven him towards despair.  But life had changed, and the love changed, too.  He could love her without imagining what their lives could have been together.  As a friend.  “You should probably head to the train station soon,” he said.

“Yes, I suppose I should,” Mary said.

Arthur slid some coins over to the waitress for the coffees, and walked her over to where Barry was waiting.  “You two get a chance to catch up?” Barry asked.

“We did,” Mary said, taking Barry’s hand.  “It was good to see you again, Arthur.”

“You, too.  Congratulations, Mary,” said Arthur, genuinely, and they parted ways once again.

He was immediately swarmed by Karen, Tilly, and Isaac.

“Who was that?  An old flame?” Karen teased.

“Calm down, it ain’t your business.”

“She’s real pretty.  And rich,” Karen continued.  “I don’t buy that childhood friend line she spun her fiance.”

“Well, not childhood, but we were pretty young when we met.”

“So, first girlfriend?”

“What happened?” Tilly asked.

“We wanted different things from life, that’s all!  Now, let’s get back to camp.”

Still, Karen and Tilly pestered him about the details of his relationship with Mary.  But Isaac was quiet.  Once he parked the wagon and convinced the girls to leave them alone, he turned to his son.  “You alright, Isaac?”

“You loved someone else?  Not just my ma?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah, I did,” Arthur said, awkward and unsure about how to have that particular conversation.  Ever since Isaac came to live with him, romantic relationships were the furthest thing from his mind.  And even before Isaac, he was never actively seeking a relationship.  He met Mary by chance, and the speed at which his feelings developed had both surprised and confused him.

Isaac dropped his head down, kicking at the dirt.  “Oh,” he said.

“I know it’s kind of odd to hear that,” Arthur said.  “But finding someone you want to spend your life with can be hard.  It would be nice to just know who the perfect person is, but you don’t.  You meet people you like, and if they like you back, you start a relationship.  And see what happens.”

“But you loved her.”

“I did.  But she didn’t want to join the gang, and I didn’t want to join her life, so we ended things.”

“But you didn’t live with me and ma.  She didn’t want to be in the gang, either.”

“Well, that’s… true,” Arthur said.  “But your ma and I talked and made it work.  Falling in love isn’t the end.  There’s usually a lot of compromises you have to make.  And when you and someone else aren’t willing to make those compromises, like with me and Mary, it doesn’t matter how much you love them.  It just won’t work.”

“So, you loved both of them?”

“Yeah.  I loved them both, just in different ways,” Arthur said.

“Okay.”

“Besides, if I married Mary and didn’t meet your ma, you wouldn’t be here!  And I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Pa,” Isaac said, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s middle.

Arthur hugged him back.  He was relieved that Isaac understood and that he could finally talk about Mary.  Even after Isaac’s birth, even as his respect for Eliza grew into a platonic love, his love for Mary never completely vanished.  Not while Mary still kept the engagement ring he gave her, the one that he insisted she keep, because one day they might change their minds and choose each other.  But now he knew.  They both moved on and found their own lives.  His relationship with Mary was a step, not a stumble.

And it was easier to deal with everyone’s curiosity as rumors of his meeting with Mary spread like wildfire around the camp.

“Heard you saw Mary,” John said, coming up to him during dinner.

“Shut up, John.”

“Mary?  Really?” Dutch asked.

“I never liked that woman,” Susan said.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it,” said Arthur.  “She’s found someone else.”

“She wasn’t right for you,” Susan continued.  “Oh, but Mr. Morgan, can I ask you a favor?”

“What is it?”

She motioned towards Hosea, trudging to the edge of camp with another bottle.  Arthur sighed.  “You can’t just hide the whiskey?”

“You think I haven’t tried that!  Last time, he went to town and bought more.  I was worried sick!”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Arthur said, sitting down on the log next to Hosea.  The older man ignored him, face blank.  “Hey, Hosea,” he tried.

“Leave me be, Arthur.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Arthur said.

“Don’t.  Just don’t waste your time.  You don’t understand.”

“Hosea-”

“Leave me alone!”

“No!” Arthur said.  “I’m not leaving you alone.  I love you, Hosea.  We all do.  I don’t want to lose you.  So, I’m going to stay right here.”

“You don’t understand!  I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

“Yes, I am!  It’s all moving on without me.”  Hosea choked on a sob, falling forward onto his hands and dropping the bottle.  Arthur let it shatter.  “The gang’s gone on with their lives and their jobs, and it hurts.  Everyday, it hurts, and I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Arthur said again.  “We want to help you, it’s just… I don’t know how, Hosea.”

“It shouldn’t have been her,” Hosea said.  “Why her?”

Arthur rubbed his back, and said, “I don’t know.”

“She was so good, and I’m not.  Why am I still here?  Why do I have to keep going without her?”

“I don’t know.  But we want you here, Hosea.  Don’t forget that.”

“She told me to be okay, and I can’t even do that.  I don’t know how to do that.  It just hurts, and I don’t want it to hurt no more.”

“I know,” Arthur said, still holding him.  “I wish I could just fix that for you, but I can’t.  But you need to lay off the drinking, Hosea.  It won’t stop you from hurting.  How about you come to town with me tomorrow?”

“No,” Hosea said.

“Then I’ll stick around camp.  Work on the orders here.  I’ve got more than enough to do.”

And Arthur did.  He sat in Hosea’s tent and worked as the man woke up, hungover and angry.  He stayed as his presence stopped working as a distraction, and Hosea began to look for a drink.  He stayed when Hosea grew bitter and angry, screaming at him to leave, and found a drink anyway.

He just stayed.

Chapter Text

“Mr. Marston, how would you like to work the bank job with me,” Dutch asked.

“Really?” John said.  “The bank job?”

“Of course!  It will be you, me, Mac Callander, and our new friend, Peter Morrison.”

Peter Morrison must have overheard them talking, because he wandered up to them and said, “This job is perfect!  There’s almost no law around here.”

“There’s always some law,” Dutch said, “but they do seem rather lackadaisical in this town.”

“We’re going to be rich!” Peter said.

Dutch met Peter at a bar in town.  He’d been a part of a small gang, really only three people, for several years.  The gang had a major disagreement not long ago, though John wasn’t aware of the details, and Peter decided to split off from the other two.   

The gang had gained a lot of new friends, recently.  Besides Peter, two girls joined them, Mary-Beth Gaskill and Molly O’Shea.  Mary-Beth was only sixteen, and in trouble from a group of men who caught her picking their pockets when Annabelle found her and brought her back.  She loved reading romance stories, a subject John did not care for at all.  But Molly seemed to have some interest in romance, or at least her looks towards Dutch implied as much.  She wasn’t shy about her attraction to him.  “Do you think Dutch likes me back?” Molly asked Karen one day, in earshot of Annabelle.  Not that she would know, but still, it made John uncomfortable.

Karen was quick to inform her of their history, but it didn’t deter Molly.  Dutch wasn’t helping the matter, either, inviting her over and sharing his favorite Evelyn Miller passages to the giggling redhead.  It bothered Annabelle, no matter how much she denied it.  “We aren’t together, he has a right to pursue other women,” she said, even as she was grinding her teeth together.

Whenever Molly and Dutch started talking, John couldn’t help but wish he’d gone hunting with Arthur and Hosea.  The two of them would set out early, sometimes bringing Isaac with them depending on the type of game they were after.  Hunting kept Hosea’s mind busy, which he greatly needed.  By the time they hauled the pelts and meat in, Hosea and Arthur were exhausted, and Hosea was less likely to drink.  He still did, sometimes, on nights when the activity waned and the grief set in once again.  But he was getting better.  Just not well enough for a bank robbery yet.

Dutch was telling John about everything he knew about the small town Kansas bank when Annabelle came up to them and asked, “You aren’t trying to poach my job, are you?”

“Anna.  This is a bank,” Dutch said.  “It’s not an easy job.”

“I’m aware.  And I’ve done all the work scouting the bank, checking on the guards, the responsiveness of the law.”

“And you did well, but-”

“But what?” Annabelle said, crossing her arms.  “You need more experience to rob a bank?  And that’s why you are taking John and Peter?”

“And what would you have me do?” Dutch asked.

“I think the people who have done all the work should decide who goes on the job,” she said.

Dutch and Annabelle continued their staring contest.  John really wished he had gone with Arthur.

“Well then, Annabelle, who would you recommend for the job?”

“Myself.”

“Of course you would.”

“Davey and Mac, too.”

“I would bring a fourth on a job like this,” Dutch continued.

“Then John, since you believe he is ready.”

“You know, Mr. Morrison was the one who steered us towards the bank in the first place.”

“He’ll have his chances for a job, I’m sure.”

“Fine.  How about we make a deal,” Dutch said.  “You can run this bank job.  But you’ll do it with me.”

Annabelle considered the idea, her eyes narrowing at Dutch.  “Fine.  Do you still want John on the job?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want Davey.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Annabelle turned and left.

“You don’t have to bring me on this job you know,” John said, his excitement gone.  Maybe there was still a chance to get out of it.

“You’ll do great, John,” Dutch said, patting him on the shoulder.

Dammit.  Where was Arthur when he needed him?

But Hosea needed Arthur more at the moment.  John knew that, but he still missed having his brother around.  That, and he knew something was going on with Arthur and Mary.  Arthur said he was fine after seeing her, but then he got a letter a week ago, with something tiny inside.  John didn’t see what it was, but Arthur stared at it a long time before slipping it into his satchel.

Later, when Arthur returned, John shared his latest plight with him.  Arthur just laughed and said, “Well, you wanted to work a big job, didn’t you?”

“But not like this.  Not with Anna and Dutch fighting with each other the whole way!”

“Get someone to trade with you then.”

“I wish.  But Dutch is all excited because it will be my first bank job, so he won’t let me out of it!”

“Fake an illness?”

“Then I’d have to deal with Miss Grimshaw.”  John tried faking illness once, when he wanted to get out of camp chores.  Looking back, Miss Grimshaw knew he wasn’t actually sick.  She took great pleasure in forcing a myriad of disgusting teas and tonics down his throat and sitting with him to make sure he didn’t sneak out of his tent.  By the next day, he was bored out of his mind and swearing that he’d undergone a miraculous recovery, but still she went through the motions of checking his forehead and confining him to his bed for a couple of hours before releasing him to do the dishes.

“Guess you’re stuck with it, John,” Arthur said, his smile wide.  “You’ll be fine.  It won’t be like waiting around for a stagecoach.  You get in and out, silent and quick.  Dutch and Anna won’t have time for a fight.”

“They’ll make time,” John grumbled.

“I know.  It’s been rough,” Arthur said.  “What even happened between them?  Didn’t it start while you were leaving Oregon?”

“I don’t know.  They were fine.  If they were fighting, they were doing it in private.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Bessie would set them right.  She’d drag them out of camp for a talk and that would be the end of it.  I wish I knew her secret.”

“Maybe Hosea knows what to do,” said John.

Arthur turned to look at Hosea, chatting with Mary-Beth.  “I don’t want to ask him.  He’s been better lately, I don’t want to bring anything up, you know?”  Bringing up Bessie in camp usually brought Hosea to tears, so the camp avoided saying her name when Hosea was around.  John hated it.  He wanted to talk about Bessie.  He was still grieving, too.

“I guess.  I miss Bessie.  It don’t feel the same without her here.  And it’s like Hosea isn’t here, either, most days.”

“I know it don’t always seem like it, but he is getting better, John.  I promise.  Maybe celebrating a big, successful job will help him out, too.  Just don’t mess it up.”

“Hey, I’m not going to mess up!”

“You sure?  It is your first bank.”

“Shut up, Arthur!” John said, storming off to the sound of Arthur’s roaring laughter.

Despite John’s fears, the planning stage of the robbery did not descend into chaos.  Though he supposed there were only a few ways to rob a bank.  John worried that Annabelle and Dutch would send him to be just the lookout or the distraction outside the bank, but Annabelle insisted that he was to be on crowd control with Dutch.  For a second, John thought that the assigned role would end Dutch’s patient approach, but the gang leader relented.  He was seething, but he relented.

News of the upcoming robbery spread through the gang, and the excitement for a big payday was high.  The only person who seemed disappointed was Peter Morrison, since he’d wanted to go on the job.  John overheard a shouting match between Dutch and Peter about it at the edge of camp, which resulted in Peter storming off for a few hours.  He seemed to accept it by the time he returned, saying to John, “Guess you have seniority, even if you are just a kid.”

“I’m eighteen,” John replied.

“Exactly, still just a kid,” Peter said, suddenly unable to meet John’s eyes.  “Just be careful out there, alright?”

“Yeah, okay.”  

Then the day arrived.  John was so nervous and excited for the job that he didn’t get enough sleep.  Dutch watched him chug coffee and scarf down breakfast with a knowing smile.  “Ready, son?”

“I think so.”

“Have a bit of faith, John.  I know you are ready.  We’ll be in and out so fast they won’t even know what hit them.  And the money?  We’ll be able to help out that farmer I told you about, and maybe a few others.  And our family be set up nicely for a while.”

“Can I go with you?  When you give them the money?”

“Sure, son.  Once things have calmed down with the law and it’s safe, we will go.  And if our luck holds, and our bandannas stay on, no one will recognize our faces.  You’re lucky, John.  You don’t have any scars or defining features.  They’ll never get your face right.”

“Gee, Dutch, that’s a nice way to say he’s ugly,” Arthur said, grabbing some cans off the food wagon.

“Now, Arthur, that wasn’t what I was saying-”

“You’ll be fine, John.  Hosea and I will be back for the party,” Arthur said, heading over to Hosea and the horses.

“Now then, let’s get those clothes on,” Dutch said, throwing the shotgun coat at John.  Why they had to dress up fancy to go rob a bank, John didn’t know.  Dutch said that it made the group look distinguished and therefore less suspicious.  John thought the opposite.  Matching clothes were too suspicious.

At least Annabelle got to wear something different.

They rode slow once in town, surveying it one last time for lawmen and leaving their horses at the end of the road.  John’s heart thundered in his chest as he followed Davey to the bank’s side door while Dutch and Annabelle went to the front.

“Ready?” she muttered, just loud enough for them to hear.  John and Davey nodded, and Annabelle kicked the door open.  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery.  Get on the ground, keep your hands visible, and you won’t be harmed!  Now, who is the manager here?  Speak up!”

The shaking manager raised his hands slightly, and Annabelle leveled her pistol between his eyes.  “Open the vault,” she said.

“I can’t!”

“Can’t, or won’t?” she asked.  “I think my friend can figure out that answer.  Mr. C, if you will?”

Annabelle gestured to Davey.  Davey punched the bank manager in the face.  “The lady said to open the vault!” he said.

The manager immediately began to turn the lock.

John kept an eye out for any bank patrons that tried to move, but no one did.  At first.  In the back, he could hear Davey shouting and cursing at the bank manager, and then the heavy sound of the gun hitting the man over the head.  Dutch heard it, too, turning to shout, “Everything alright back there?”

“We’re fine, Mr. V!” Annabelle said.  “Just do your job.”

Dutch turned to John.  “Keep an eye on them.”  Dutch started towards the vault, but he paused at the sound of the vault door dragging it’s way across the uneven floor.  Davey let out an excited whoop as he began shoving cash and gold into the bag.  “There’s at least a couple thousand here!” he shouted out of the vault.  And that was when it happened.  John, focused on the bank patrons, didn’t notice the lawmen sneaking up along the side of the bank.  They should have been vigilant, but maybe it was the excitement of a job going smoothly.  No one had even fired a weapon yet.  Dutch shouted to Davey to hurry up when the door burst open.  John didn’t have enough time to react.  The lawman raised his gun at him and fired.

He screamed as the bullet tore into his abdomen.  He collapsed, his gun clattering to the ground next to him.  Two more shots fired.

“John!” Dutch shouted, abandoning the pretense of hiding their identities.  John’s vision faded in and out as Dutch’s hands hovered over the wound.  “Breath, John, it’s going to be okay.  We need to put pressure on it.  Keep breathing, son, it’s okay!”

Dutch pressed his hands over the wound, and John gasped, his back arching and eyes darting around the bank.  Another silhouette appeared in the doorway, and he managed to say, “Behind you!”

“Shit!”  Dutch spun around, one hand drawing his Schofield revolver and firing at the door while the other stayed on John’s stomach.  The lawman dropped to the ground dead.

“Mr. Van der Linde!” the sheriff called from across the street, deciding not to approach again.  “We have the bank surrounded.  You and your associates come out with your hands up!  No one needs to die.”

Annabelle ran over to them, her head ducked low.  “How the fuck did they know?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Dutch said.

“John, you okay?  How are you doing?” Annabelle asked.

He let out a groan.  He’d never been shot before, but it was terrible.  He couldn’t focus on anything.  Was that normal?  He was sweating and shaking, too, his pain only amplified by Dutch’s attempts to keep the blood in his stomach.

“How many are out there?” Davey asked.

Dutch peaked over the windowsill, and ducked back down fast before more bullets could fly.  “At least a eight.  They said they surrounded the building, so probably more.  Okay, we need a plan.  We need to get John out of here, now.”

“We should split up,” Annabelle said.  “One of us takes John, the others take the money and try to lead the law away.”

“Right, we need to get to the horses.  Davey, can you carry John?”

“Yeah, I got him.”  Davey started to slide his arms under John, but it hurt.  He tried to shift away, curling in on himself.

“John, it’s alright, you can get through this,” Annabelle said.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Anna, you go first.  You and I will cover Davey while he gets John to the horses.  You should take him on Leo, he’s fastest.  Shake the law, and get back to camp.”

“No,” Annabelle said.  “Leo’s too small for two people!”

“Anna, you can’t be serious!” Dutch said.

John coughed, swinging his hand to grab Dutch’s shoulder.  “Will you two quit it?”

“Moose is stronger, and he can run fast, too.  Davey can take John, and I’ll lead the law away.  Leo will outrun any lawman here.”

Dutch stared at her, frozen, even as the lawmen got closer to the bank.  John watched him, too, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Trust me,” she said.

“Okay,” Dutch finally said.  “Okay.  Davey, get him up.”

John’s vision swam as Davey hauled him over his shoulder.  Guns fired all around them as Davey sprinted and threw John into the saddle, mounting up and wrapping an arm around John to steady him.  “Hang on, John, you’re going to be fine!”

John wasn’t sure he believed him, and just let himself pass out.

Chapter Text

They shot Nero out from under him.  He thought he was finally starting to lose the law, seeing as the majority of the lawmen and local bounty hunters that had sprung into action as soon as they entered the bank had fallen behind or been killed.  He didn’t notice how close the last two had gotten.  His poor horse.  He was forced to put a bullet in his horse’s head, but at least it was quick.

But now Dutch was on foot, weaving through the trees with his saddlebag full of gold slung over his shoulder, listening to the shouts of the bounty hunters getting closer and closer.  Until the lasso fell over his shoulders.

“Gotcha!”

The bounty hunter yanked back on the lasso.  The rope tightened around his body as he fell, and pain shot up his back when he landed on the ground.  He didn’t even get a second for recovery, because the bounty hunter flipped him over, binding his arms and legs.

Dutch hoped Annabelle and Davey were fairing better than he was.  When he last saw them, Annabelle had a few lawmen on her tail, but Davey only had one.  Dutch was confident that Davey would get John back to camp.  Susan would know what to do.  Susan, and hopefully Hosea was there.  And sober.

And Annabelle could outrun the lawmen on Leo.  She told him to trust her, and he did.  But things went wrong all the time, as he was getting proof of at the moment.  Once the others were all back, they’d realize that Dutch was missing and in trouble.  They were taking him alive.  He had time.

He would just have to deal with annoying bounty hunters until they did.

“Look at that!  The leader of the Van der Linde gang,” the leader said.  “The name’s Joe Hayward.  You remember that when they put you on the gallows.”

“How could I forget?” Dutch groaned.  “Tell me, how much am I worth these days?  It’s been a while since I checked the posters.”

“Feds are willing to pay two thousand for you,” Hayward said.  “As soon as the sheriff got tipped off about that bank robbery, he started calling us in.”

So, someone informed the sheriff.  Dutch had considered the idea with how fast the law appeared at the bank.  Had they been sloppy in their planning?  They’d certainly robbed enough banks to know what to do.  Maybe they’d been recognized in town.  “One thousand dollars each,” Dutch said, as if he was simply discussing the weather.  “That will set you up nicely.”

“There’s three of us, actually.”

“Oh, and where is the other?  Off chasing one of my friends?”

“Naw, they ain’t worth chasing.  Those other bounty hunters are new, still figuring out this business.  We’ve been on your gang’s trail for a while, Van der Linde.  Once word of the failed bank job reaches your camp, they’ll start trying to track you down.  That’s when my friend will grab Mr. Matthews.”

They hadn’t been that sloppy, had they?  They’d picked up a few bounties in Missouri, sure, but they’d broken free from the bounty hunters following them.  Made it across the border, been in town for a while.  Dutch shifted, testing the ropes while Hayward grabbed his horse.  But the ropes were tied well, and soon enough Hayward was back.  He whacked Dutch in the back of the head with a rifle and hauled him over the rump of his horse.  Completely undignified.  And on top of that, the bounty hunters picked up the saddlebag of gold, counting it out.

“Even better payday,” Hayward cheered, handing the saddlebag to his friend.

“So, you men aren’t completely honest yourselves, are you?” Dutch said into the horse’s hindquarters, his head still spinning.

“The bounty is for you, Van der Linde.  Posters don’t say anything about the money.”

“How very like the government you are,” Dutch mused as Hayward kicked his horse into a trot.  Laying over the back of a horse was not comfortable.  “Using your position for your own gain.”

“Morality lessons from an outlaw?  I guess I should have expected that, given the stories from our friend.”

The friend met him.  Where?  The saloon?  Dutch did talk to a lot of people.

“Yeah, Peter told us all about you.”

Dutch froze, all the air rushing out of his lungs.  “Peter Morrison?”

“You didn’t know about that one, did you?  The great outlaw doesn’t even know he has a rat in the camp,” Hayward laughed.  The other bounty hunter, who had introduced himself as Hayward’s cousin, Eddie, chuckled along.  “Yeah, he said you’ve got a bunch of crazy folk following your philosophies.  All Peter had to do was play along, and you welcomed him right in.  Too easy!”

Peter was a rat.  A rat was in his camp, with his family!  With John, who was hurt bad.  Little Isaac, and Arthur.  Annabelle.

It would be okay, though.  Annabelle and Davey would make it back!  They were smarter than these foolish bounty hunters.  Hosea wouldn’t panic… but then again, he didn’t know what Hosea would do.  Arthur had been taking care of him since Bessie’s death, and he was getting better.  But now, especially with John’s life in danger?

Arthur, then.  Arthur would take charge, keep everyone together.  No need to panic at all.  They’d broken their family out of prison before, he just had to be patient.  Wait.  Have faith.

If only waiting weren’t so damn nerve-wracking.  Being tied up, the ropes digging into his wrists and ankles.  All control taken from him by a stupid lasso.

“A flawless plan.  No snags so far?” Dutch said, digging a little deeper.

“Just the one.  Peter thought he was going to be on the job with you.  You know, to keep things from getting out of hand.  But no, you decided to put your girlfriend in charge!”

And then he was dumped on the ground, dragged to a tree, and tied up in a different way.  Great.  He sighed, leaning his head back against the rough bark.  “Big payday, isn’t it?  And how will you be spending it?”

“I ain’t playing this game with you.”

“You see, I was going to split the money as well.  Half to my gang, and half to the people of this town.  The farmer on just across the railway who took a loan to cover a bad harvest, the single mother with her three young children barely scraping by.”

“Enough out of you,” Hayward said, shoving a gag into Dutch’s mouth.  “I don’t want to hear it, and you ain’t getting in my head.  You can be quiet until we take you to the law.”

Dutch let his head fall heavily into the tree.  So much for talking his way out of the ropes.  Doomed to wait.  And waiting was so boring, so Dutch started to work at the ropes around his wrists.  Nothing was indestructible, and he just needed time.  It seemed like he was getting plenty of it.  Hayward paced back and forth in the camp, checking his pocket watch again and again.  Dutch smirked, just a little around the gag.  Peter was late.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Hayward said.

Dutch shrugged, stilling his hands.

Hayward punched him in the face, and Dutch fell sideways in his ropes.  “That’s right.  You ain’t smiling about nothing,” he said, going back to his pacing.

The rope slipped.  Just a little with his added weight on the side.  “Hey, Joe?” Eddie said.  “I think this feller was trying to escape.”

“Really now?” Hayward said.  He marched up to Dutch and ripped the gag out of his mouth.  “My cousin right?  You trying to run from us?”

“No, sir,” Dutch said.

“Then how come these ropes are loose?”

“Perhaps you boys need to learn how to tie better knots.”

Dutch knew those words would only bring him trouble, but he couldn’t help himself.  He grunted when the fist slammed into his stomach.  Eddie cut the ropes keeping Dutch tied to the tree and dragged him up.  Dutch scrambled to get his feet back under himself when the distinct click of Hayward pulling back the hammer of his revolver forced him to freeze.  “You listen here,” Hayward said.  “I like bringing in bounties alive, more money, but I ain’t above shooting you and bringing you in dead.”

“You wouldn’t shoot an unarmed prisoner,” Dutch said.  Most men wouldn’t, but he wasn’t sure about these bounty hunters.  They didn’t seem to care much about the laws they were working to uphold.

“Law won’t care.  They’ll just think I shot you in pursuit, won’t even ask questions.”

Dutch swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry as Hayward pushed the revolver closer to his eye.  Even the forest was holding its breath.  The leaves stilled and the birds lost their song.

Behind Hayward, a horse braved to make noise, weaving its way through the trees towards the camp.  Hayward holstered his revolver.  “Finally, that must be Peter!”

It wasn’t Peter.  Dutch tried to keep his face neutral as Boadicea stepped into the firelight and Arthur, with a cheery voice, said, “Howdy, fellers.  I think I’ve got turned around in here, mind directing me- whoa, what are you doing to that guy?”

“Back off, you moron!” Hayward said.  “We’re bounty hunters, and this man is a criminal.”

“Ain’t what it looks like to me,” Arthur said.  “Looks like you are about to murder a man.  You boys got bounty hunting licenses?”

“Why?” Hayward shouted.

“Because I’m thinking I need to go get the law,” said Arthur.  “Anyone can claim to be a bounty hunter.”

Hayward opened his mouth to argue more, but Eddie said, “Let’s just show him, Joe.”

“Yeah, Joe,” Dutch mocked.  “I think I deserve to see them, too.”

“Quiet you,” Hayward said, but he reached for his bag to get the paperwork, anyway.

He was dead in less than a second.  Arthur drew his cattleman as soon as Hayward’s eyes were off him, firing once into his head and doing to same to Eddie before the bounty hunter could react.  Dutch was dragged down with him.

Arthur ran to his side, getting the ropes off his wrists.  “You alright, Dutch?”

“It’s good to see you, Arthur,” Dutch sighed, taking a moment to get his breath back.  “Everyone make it back?”

“You’re the only one we were missing,” Arthur said, giving him a hand up.

“John?”

Arthur hesitated.  “Susan and Hosea are looking after him.  Got the bullet out.”

“Hosea is still in camp, right?”

“Yeah, he’s not leaving John’s side.”

“What about Peter?”

“Should be in camp, too.  Why?”

“He’s a traitor,” Dutch said.  “He was working with the bounty hunters.”

“Shit,” Arthur said.  “Annabelle thought there was something wrong with how the law showed up.  Peter kept trying to leave camp, saying we had to go find you.  Wanted Hosea to go with him.”

“He better not get any ideas of sneaking off.”

“I told the Mac to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.”

“Good,” Dutch said.  Arthur collected Dutch’s guns and the saddlebag of gold, directing him towards Boadicea.  Dutch paused, just staring at her.

“You okay, Dutch?”

“They killed Nero,” he said.

“I know.”  Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder.  “I found him.  I’m real sorry, he was a good horse.”

“That he was,” Dutch agreed, gingerly mounting Boadicea and sliding back onto her rump.  Normally he’d do everything in his power to ride by himself.  It would be easy to track down the bounty hunters’ horses, but his head was still pounding from getting hit and there were bruises forming from his earlier fall.  He was glad to have someone else take the reins for a while.  And he trusted Arthur to get him the rest of the way home.

Arthur understood, but couldn’t help a little light teasing.  “You just relax, Dutch, and let me do the rest of the work.”

Dutch huffed.  “Take your time, no rush.  You don’t seem like you’re in a hurry.”

“Well, sorry I took so long.  Seems like your famous Dutch charm was about to get you a bullet.”

“Oh, they weren’t going to shoot me.”

“Sure.”

“Just some basic intimidation.”

“Of course.”

“Though, I’m very glad you can still quick draw,” Dutch said, leaning more heavily into Arthur’s back.

Arthur kept up a decent pace back to camp, but he weaved through the less-traveled paths to avoid any law or bounty hunters in the area.  Dutch tried to remain calm, but his heart beat frantically with each passing minute.  It worsened when they approached camp and heard shouting.  Karen was two seconds away from taking Arthur’s head off with a shotgun if he hadn’t responded to her challenge immediately.

And in the middle of camp, tied up, was Peter Morrison.

“Caught him trying to sneak away, Arthur!” Mac called to them.  The entire gang, minus Susan, Hosea, and John, were watching the scene.  “He’s acting mighty suspicious.”

“Oh, I know why he’s doing that,” Dutch said, sliding out from behind Arthur.  “Seems we have a traitor in our midst.  Tell me, Mr. Morrison, did you really think your plan would work?  You left an awful lot up to chance.”

Peter shook, staring up at Dutch with wide eyes.  “I- I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what?” Dutch snarled.

“Didn’t want the kid to get shot,” Peter said.  “I was supposed to be in the bank with you.”

“So, this is my fault?  My fault that your plan didn’t work?”

“I-”

BANG!

Mac jumped back, Peter’s blood splattering across his shirt.  “Shit!” he cried, looking up at Dutch and the smoking revolver in his hands.  The rest of the gang backed away, staring at Dutch in shock.

“Dutch?” Arthur said carefully, trying to get his attention.  But Dutch’s eyes were blank, staring at Peter’s body in the dirt.  “Hey, Dutch, it’s over.  Put the gun down.”

Then Annabelle was at his side, pushing his hand down to his side and removing the gun from his grip.  “Come on, Dutch.  Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dutch followed her back to his tent, numb.  He killed Peter, just executed that man in the middle of camp.  Sure, they’d heavily implied consequences of betraying the gang to its members, but he’d never had to do it before.  Did he make the right decision?

Annabelle sat him on his cot, rubbing his back.  “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Dutch…”

“Just bruises,” he sighed, leaning into her.  “I’ll be fine.  How’s John?”

“He’s doing okay.  Davey got him back pretty fast, so now we have to hope for the best.”

“I should have known, Anna.”

“Should have known what?  About Peter?”

“I brought him back to camp.  It was my decision.”

“Stop that,” she said.  “None of us had any reason to suspect Peter as a traitor.”

“He sought me out at the saloon,” Dutch continued.  “He knew who I was, knew about the gang.  Knew we’d put up a fight.  Would have shown his hand in the bank, but no.  I wanted John to go.”

“We can’t control everything that happens.  All we can do is our best,” Annabelle said.

“But our best isn’t good enough!” Dutch said.  “I have to be better.  This family needs me to be better.  I can’t be constantly worrying about traitors in our gang or our family getting shot by O’Driscolls, or if I’m making the right call.  I just want everyone to be safe, Anna.”

“I get that, Dutch, I do.  But this life isn’t safe.”

“Then maybe…” he swallowed, turning away.  “Maybe it’s time we got that ranch.”

“You serious?” she asked.

“Yes.  I want us all to be safe, Anna.  To have a place of our own.  I know we’ve talked about this before, but I think we can do it.  We just need enough money.”

“You realize that to get the money, we need to either get a huge bank loan or rob a whole lot of folk.”

“I know.”

“And robberies can go wrong, Dutch.  We got a lesson in that today.  Could you live with that?  If things went wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Dutch said honestly.

“Neither do I,” Annabelle said, wrapping an arm around his middle.

He leaned into her more, closing his eyes with a tired sigh.  “I’ve missed you, Anna.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she said.   Dutch smiled up at her, leaning in, but she turned away.  “But if we’re going to do this, the ranch I mean, then you need to let everyone help.  Whether it’s chores around here, or helping Arthur, or working jobs, you have to let them make their own choices.  And understand the risk.  Can you do that?”

Dutch didn’t want to risk losing Annabelle.  He’d come close to it when he killed Connor O’Driscoll, and Arthur was the one who paid the price.  When they saw the O’Driscolls again in Oregon, he knew Colm had been targeting Annabelle and Hosea with his shots, desiring Dutch’s suffering more than his life.  He didn’t want to lose anyone.  “I don’t know,” he said again.

“Something to think about I guess,” she said.

Was their freedom worth the potential of losing friends?  Dutch couldn’t decide.  He wanted to believe it would never come to that, but in his heart he knew that no freedom was ever gained without casualties.  It seemed so simple, picking out an empty corner of the world just for themselves.  But the government made nothing simple.  One day, they would decide that the land was theirs.  They’d assign a piece of paper to it and claim they were owed something, and kill anyone who disagreed.  Dutch hated that their freedom from society depended on a small amount of participation in it, but what choice did he have?  Did any of them have?

The questions and fears spun and swirled around in his mind, building in power and gathering more, like the tornado he’d once seen in Nebraska so very long ago.  Annabelle and Hosea were the only people he trusted to calm the storm, but first he had to do something else.  “I’d like to see John,” Dutch said.  “I need to check on him.”

“I do, too,” Annabelle said, standing up with him.  “Let’s sit with him for a bit.  And then we can talk more.”

When they entered the tent, Hosea was hunched over John’s cot, his sobbing sending a wave of fear through Dutch’s chest.  But John very much was alive, sweating and panting and fighting through his injury even in sleep.  Hosea looked up when Dutch cleared his throat.

“I should have been looking out for him,” Hosea cried.

“Hosea, this isn’t-”

“I haven’t been around, I know, but I should have!”

“Hosea, stop!  This isn’t on you,” Dutch said.  “And you’re here now.  We’re going to take care of John, together.”

Hosea nodded, wiping away a few tears.  “We cleaned and packed the wound as best we could.  We need to watch for infection.  Gut wounds are messy, Dutch, if something gets in there-”

“It won’t,” Dutch said.  “We won’t let it.  Besides, John is too stubborn to let something like a bullet slow him down.”

And god, he hoped he was right.

He wrapped his arm around Hosea’s shoulders, pulling his best friend close.  They had a lot to talk about.

Chapter Text

Arthur spent most of the night calming Isaac.  His son hadn’t seen Dutch shoot Morrison, but he heard it.  “But why did Dutch kill him?” Isaac asked, tears falling from his eyes.  “I thought he was our friend.”

Arthur hugged Isaac close to himself.  “Because Peter betrayed us.  He told the law about Dutch’s plan to rob the bank and John got hurt.”

“But what if Peter didn't want to hurt us!  He was nice.  What if it was just an accident?”

“It wasn’t an accident, Isaac.  Peter told us he meant to do it.”

“But Pa?  What if it was an accident?  Would Dutch still…”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked gently.

“Like what if you were just talking to someone and you didn’t know they were the law?  Or they tricked you and you told them?”

“Well, then that is an accident, and Dutch would understand.”  At least, Arthur hoped Dutch would understand.  He barely let Morrison talk before pulling the trigger.  After Isaac finally went to sleep, Arthur stayed up to write in his journal about his annoyance at Dutch for not taking the horribly necessary parts of their business outside the camp where it belonged.  Isaac was too young to know about that.

He managed a few hours of sleep himself before going back to work.  First task was finding a new place to camp.  They couldn’t risk that Morrison hadn’t told any lawmen about the camp’s location, so it was time to move on.  He and Dutch surveyed the maps of the surrounding towns before selecting a few possibilities.  Annabelle was there too, standing very close to Dutch.  Arthur knew they had talked for a long time after checking in on John.  Talked, and other things.  Isaac slept through that, thankfully.  Arthur wasn’t so lucky.  He just hoped they were actually getting back together, not releasing a little tension after a near-death experience.

Arthur rode out with Mac, finding an abandoned homestead far off the main road that they could occupy for the time.  The gang began packing up their wagons, and Arthur sat with John to give Hosea a break, though the older man didn’t go too far, instead dragging his own bedroll into John’s tent for a nap.

At least he was getting sleep.  Arthur was exhausted, but he diligently cooled John’s forehead throughout the day while his little brother shifted and groaned.  Susan checked in on him, too, insisting that John was doing well, all things considered.  Arthur hoped it was true.  Gut wounds could be messy, but so far John had escaped infection.

Finally, just before they were ready to load him into the wagon, John opened his eyes.  “Arthur?” he croaked, trying to sit up.  He made it an inch above the cot before collapsing back with a hiss.

“Don’t try to move, just lay there,” Arthur said.  “You are one lucky kid, you know that?”

“I got shot, Arthur,” John said.

“And you’re still breathing, ain’t yah?” Arthur said.  “Things are going to be okay.”

“Everyone else alright?” John asked.

“Yeah.  They got out, too.  Except…”

“Except what?” John asked.  Arthur hesitated, not sure if he wanted to burden John with the truth so soon, but John asked again, “What happened?”

“Morrison betrayed the gang,” Arthur said.  “He was a bounty hunter, trying to get Dutch.”

“Jesus.  How’d you find out?”

“Dutch had a fun run-in with his friends.  I had to go rescue him,” Arthur smirked.  “Don’t let him tell you otherwise.  He’s been going on and on about how he would have talked his way out of it if I’d given him a few more minutes.”

John let out a laugh and winced.  “Can’t admit he needed rescuing, can he?”

“Aw, he’ll never admit that!”

“What happened to Peter?”

He hesitated again.  “Dutch took care of it.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” John said.

“Yeah.  You know the rules.  Just never had to do it before, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess,” John said.

“Don’t worry about it too much.  You rest.  Don’t be doing anything stupid, like trying to get up.”

John sank into his pillow, looking around the tent.  “Wait, why is Hosea in here?  Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine.  I figured I’d let him sleep a little longer, seeing as we’re about to pick up camp.”

“Where are we going?”

“Some old farmhouse, not far from here.  Then we’ll figure out what town we’re heading to next.”

“So much for my first bank robbery.”

“Hey, it weren’t too bad.  None of you got killed and you got the money.  Annabelle and Dutch might be back together.”

“Wait, really?”

“Might be,” Arthur emphasized.  

“I hope they are.  It’s been weird around here.”

“That it has,” Arthur agreed.  “Now, you rest.  You’re doing well, don’t go messing that up.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I’ll sic Copper on you if you try to get up.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, Copper!” Arthur called into the camp, and the coonhound bounded up to him and balanced his front legs on John’s cot, trying to lick his face.

“Ugh, get off, Copper!  Fine!”

Arthur pulled Copper off him, his laughter causing Hosea to stir.  “I’m going to let Susan and Dutch know you are awake, so I’d pass out now if you don’t want to deal with their fussing.”

John smiled and closed his eyes, feigning sleep, though Arthur was sure he’d be tired enough to sleep for real.

Moving camp improved the mood of their gang, and they soon ignored the ugly events following the bank robbery.  But none of them would forget the way Dutch ruthlessly executed Morrison, especially Arthur.  He’d never seen that blank look on Dutch’s face before.

John recovered, slower than he would have liked but without any complications.  Hosea hovered over him constantly until John was begging Arthur to take Hosea hunting again.  Arthur pretended to ignore John’s request, but really he knew he couldn’t drag Hosea away.  “Bessie wouldn’t be happy with me if I let you lay in bed bored all day,” Hosea said, preparing to destroy John in another round of poker.  It was the first time they’d heard Hosea mention Bessie in a sober state, and it shut John up real quick.

The only person in the gang who was unhappy was Molly.  “Can I talk to you?” she asked Arthur one evening when he found her pacing the edges of camp.

“Sure, what’s going on?”

“I just,” Molly started, chewing on her lip.  “I thought he liked me, you know?  Dutch, he was always talking with me and I know he was flirting.”

“Yeah, we all saw,” Arthur said.

“So, why’d he choose her?”

“Listen, Miss O’Shea-”

“Oh, you can call me Molly.”

“Molly, they were together for a long time.  There’s a lot of history you don’t know about.”

“Karen told me some,” she said.

“And there’s a whole lot Karen doesn’t know about, either,” said Arthur.  “Now, I don’t doubt Dutch liked you.  But he loves Annabelle.  They’ve had their fights, and this one sure was a big one, but they love each other.”

“It’s not fair,” Molly said.  “He shouldn’t have been making me think-”

“No, he shouldn’t have, and you have every right to be annoyed with him.  Dutch may be the smartest man I know, well aside from Hosea, but he can be a fool.  Just please don’t blame Annabelle for that.  There’s plenty of men out there.”

“I’ll try,” Molly said.  “Thank you, Arthur.”

“No problem, Molly.”

He watched her walk back to Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth, talking briefly before joining them for chores.  Arthur hoped she would be able to get over Dutch quickly.  He knew what kind of effect Dutch’s attention could have on people, and she hadn’t been enamored for long.  Arthur wanted for the best for her, but he was ecstatic that Annabelle and Dutch were back together.  They were both happier, calmer.  They were falling back into the routine of both their relationship and robbing.

Except that Dutch didn’t have his horse.

Dutch took to borrowing other horses to go into town, and Arthur could tell that he hated it.  Moose was his main mount, since John couldn’t ride yet, but Dutch was constantly on the search for his own horse.  It also meant that Dutch had taken to dragging Arthur to the local stables to check out their horses.  So far, none had met his impossibly high standards, and Arthur didn’t even get the chance to start up his business in their new location.

Speaking of…

“Arthur!” Dutch called out, before Arthur even had a chance for morning coffee.

“Morning, Dutch.”

“Don’t take too long with breakfast.  You, me, Hosea, and Annabelle are going to take a ride.”

“Where to?”

“Oh, just a ride, son.  Anna and I want to share some of our ideas with you two before we tell the family.”

“Okay.”  He wasn’t going to pretend to know what Dutch had cooking in his head.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.  This is going to be a good one, but I need you and Hosea to help with the planning.  Ten minutes, then we head out.”

Dutch wandered off calling for Hosea next, and Arthur looked to Annabelle.  “It’s good, I promise,” she said.  “But it is different.”

“Now you’ve both got me worried.”

She just laughed, and went to saddle Leo.

They trotted up the hills and through the forests, enjoying their time away from the others for a little while.  Dutch and Hosea reminisced about their early days riding together, stories which Arthur never got tired of despite the many variations they’d shared over the years.  They were almost back to normal, Hosea and Dutch, though Hosea also had no clue why Dutch had insisted on taking them all out of camp for a few hours.

“This better not be an announcement that they are back together, because the camp already knows that,” Hosea whispered to Arthur, making him laugh.

“What are you two joking about back there?” Dutch shouted back at them, and they just laughed even more.

At the top of a hill near a river, Dutch finally pulled Moose to a halt.  “How about here?” he asked Annabelle.

“Perfect.”  They began to unpack a blanket and some food.

“You brought us all the way up here for a picnic?” Arthur asked.

“Not just that.  It’s an announcement, remember?” Dutch said.  “But we deserve a little break, too.”

“Just tell us, Dutch, we’re starting to get nervous!” Hosea said.

“Fine!” Dutch said.  “We’re buying a ranch!”

“What?” Arthur snorted.  But Hosea’s eyes widened, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

“Are you serious, Dutch?”

“I am, Old Girl,” Dutch said.  “Now, don’t get me wrong.  I love this life we have.  Hell, you and I have traveled coast to coast together.  We’ve grown our family these last few years, and there’s no finer group of people I’d rather spend my days with.  This is something I want for them, to be free and safe.  I, uh, I messed up with Mr. Morrison.”

Annabelle sighed.  “You couldn’t have known he was a bounty hunter,” she said, but Dutch shook his head.

“My family was hurt because of that mistake.  John… John shouldn’t have to go through that.”

Hosea eyed Dutch critically.  “We talked about a ranch before.”

“I know.”

“And it’s going to take a whole lot of money,” Hosea continued.

“Yes, I know,” Dutch said.  “We may have to make some cuts, keep more of the money from our takes.  But with all of us working together, I have faith that we can do it.”

“Where?” Arthur asked.

“Somewhere without a whole lot of people,” Dutch said.

“We don’t know yet,” Annabelle explained.  “Preferably somewhere that doesn’t know our names.”

“We’re running out of those places,” Hosea said.

“You really want this, Dutch?” Arthur asked.  His whole life with them, Hosea and Dutch never expressed a desire to settle down, other than the occasional musing.  This though?  This was real, and it could be good for them.

Dutch looked at Annabelle, the two smiling at one another.  “Yes, Arthur.  We do.”

“Well, alright then,” Arthur said.  “As long as we’re all together, I’m happy.”

“So am I,” Hosea said.

“We’re all agreed, then?” Dutch asked.  “Good, let’s eat!”

Since Arthur joined the gang all those years ago, Dutch had made some rather outlandish promises.  Promises of wealth, of plenty, of an entire country of opportunity.  He’d talked up towns that turned out to be shit-holes, swore that there were lakes in the middle of deserts.  It was his talent, that silver tongue.  And Dutch wasn’t being malicious when he made those claims.  It was encouragement, to push them along from one place to another, to give them an idea to hold onto.  Faith, Dutch sometimes said.  And while Arthur learned to take whatever Dutch said with a grain of salt, he did have faith.  Those shit-hole towns always had some opportunity hidden away.  The deserts didn’t always have lakes, but they found enough water to survive.  And this ranch might have been the most outlandish claim of all, but Arthur couldn’t help but be drawn in by Dutch’s enthusiasm.  And he knew that Dutch meant every word.

They spent all of their lunch talking about what their ranch could look like, where it would be, what animals they’d have.  Dutch wanted to give Arthur a whole herd of horses to raise and all the room he needed to continue his business.  Hosea imagined for himself a comfy chair and a library of mystery novels.  Dutch and Annabelle didn’t say much about what they wanted in the ranch, and Arthur realized that all they really wanted was each other.

Eventually, they had to pack up and head back to camp before it got dark.  On their way back, Dutch suddenly became distracted by something off the road.  Arthur followed his eyes, and saw a white horse off the road.  An albino Arabian!  And a rather well-dressed man stood on the ground shouting at it.

“You stupid nag!  You just had to take off, didn’t you?” the man shouted with an accent that Arthur couldn’t identify.  The horse bared its teeth, ears pinned to its head, and backed away even as the man yanked on the reins.

Dutch’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas.  “Excuse me, sir.  Are you having trouble with your horse?”

“Back off, you country bumpkin.  This doesn’t concern you!”

Dutch probably would have toyed with the man a little longer, but the man pulled out a riding crop and swung his arm back, ready to strike the horse.  “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you!”

The man’s face paled, but he tried to straighten his spine when he turned to face Dutch.  “Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?  I am the Count of-”

“A count?  Well, we don’t recognize counts out here.  This is the untamed west.  We barely have laws.  You’ve come to the wrong place, my friend.”  Dutch drew his revolver.

“How dare you point that gun at me?  I’m going to report you, and when the law realized who you’ve threatened-”

Dutch fired two shots at the ground just in front of the man’s feet, and his attempt to jump away from them caused him to trip and fall back into the mud.  Dutch gracefully dismounted next to him, not even sparing him a glance.  “Hello, boy,” he said to the stallion, and the horse stretched out his nose and bumped his hand.  Dutch took the reins, and the horse willingly let him on his back.

“You get off my horse this instant!”

“He doesn’t seem very much like yours, does he?” Dutch laughed, nudging the stallion into a trot down the road.

The rich man mouth hung open.  “You can’t leave me here!  I am the Count of-”

“You, sir, are nothing but a horse’s ass!” Dutch said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder.  “And the Count is coming with me.”

They laughed the whole way back to camp.  “You aren’t seriously going to name that horse the Count, are you?” Arthur asked.

“Why not?  The title suits him more than that fop back there!”

“Don’t know who is worse at naming horses, you or John,” Arthur said.

“I’m going to ignore that!”

Chapter Text

“So, let me get this straight,” Arthur said, rubbing the tension out of his eyes.  “This snake bit you.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“You’re only alive because Hosea took pity on you and sucked out the venom.”

“I wouldn’t have died!”

“The snake then rolled down a steep hill and died hitting the ground.”

“It wasn’t the hill that did it!  It was my blood!  It couldn’t handle it.”

“And you think you deserve a hat made out of it,” Arthur finished.

“Exactly!” Sean said.  “My blood killed it.”

“His blood is full of enough alcohol,” Hosea grumbled.

“So, the snake rolled down the hill because it got drunk?” Arthur asked.

“And how did it get like that, you ask?  Because of Sean MacGuire’s blood, it did!” Sean announced proudly.  “And what’s your problem, English?  Got a personal vendetta against snakes, do you?  Is that how…”

Sean gestured to Arthur’s wooden leg, and Arthur just laughed.  “Nope!”

They picked up Sean early in 1893 when they were traveling through North Elizabeth on their way out west.  Sean tried to rob and kill Dutch and Hosea at a bar, an attempt that they both found somewhat amusing.  Dutch liked his grit, or maybe pitied him, and brought Sean back to the gang.  For whatever reason, the then seventeen-year-old Sean decided that Arthur was to be his big brother, always following him around and asking questions about guns and his robbing in the old days.  He was also very determined to find out why Arthur stopped robbing.

Not everyone knew about what happened with the O’Driscolls.  Dutch and Susan never talked about it.  Hosea, when asked, only called it the worst decision he ever had to make but one he would never regret.  Everyone else who’d been there at the time just directed the new folk to Arthur, saying that it was his story to tell.  Not everyone asked.  Arthur would certainly tell them if they did, but most folk whispered rumors and shared theories, worried about offending Arthur with their questions.

Until Sean came along, of course.  When Sean heard the rumors, he boldly announced that he was going to find out what happened, no matter what.  Sean’s method involved increasingly outlandish guesses rather than simply asking, and it was Sean’s unearned confidence that convinced Arthur to start the game.  Snakebite was a rather reasonable choice, much more reasonable than his idea that Arthur had previously been a pirate who got attacked by a shark.  Somehow, Sean couldn’t think up something as simple as a nasty shotgun wound, and no one in the gang would reveal the full story until he did.

At least Sean took to Arthur a lot better than Bill Williamson.  Another man who tried to kill Dutch before being brought back to camp, Bill was awkward and unsure of how Arthur fit into the gang.  The others were quick to defend Arthur, making them slow to warm up to Bill.  That, and Bill was often drunk and only showed value as a gun, rarely picking up the extra chores that a camp of their size required.  Arthur and Bill eventually did find some common ground over the fact that they both loved their horses.  Bill rode a huge Ardennes named Brown Jack, and doted on the animal almost as much as Arthur did with Boadicea.

All Arthur truly cared about when it came to new members of the gang was them being good to Isaac.  Both were, even if Arthur worried about Sean’s determination to become a role model to Isaac and teach him how to be a gunslinger.

They also gained a reverend named Orville Swanson, who saved Dutch’s life by hitting the man who had him at gunpoint over the head with a bible.  Dutch felt that he owed Swanson a debt, and invited him to join the gang, only later learning that the bible was hollowed out to hide Swanson’s drugs and that Swanson himself was rarely sober enough to help around camp.  Still, Dutch didn’t mind him saying, insisting that they had place for all lost souls.

Dutch’s magician friend, Josiah Trelawny, joined them for a scam from time to time, and they briefly had an Austrian immigrant named Leopold Strauss with them as well, though Annabelle ended up shouting at him about his money making method, mainly predatory lending to the poor.  He left to find a different opportunity.  Molly left as well, and Arthur couldn’t say he was surprised.  While Molly craved adventure, she wasn’t used to the hard work required with staying in the gang now that she wasn’t the center of Dutch’s attention, and often clashed with the other women in the camp.  Karen theorized that it was Miss Grimshaw who ultimately drove her away.

“Come on, Arthur,” Sean said, holding up the dead snake once again.  “I haven’t gotten anything from you, yet.”

Arthur gave gifts to gang members when he was struck with inspiration.  Gloves, a new pair of boots, a new vest… it all depended on what the person needed.  “Fine!  I’ll see what I can do,” he said, taking the snake.  “This should make a good band, now I just need something for the hat itself.  Pronghorn, or maybe sheepskin.”

“Keep the head, will yah?  I want any lawmen or bounty hunter to be staring into the jaws of that snake when they see me coming.”

“Yeah, and then they’ll shoot you there,” Arthur said.

“Hey, Arthur, we going into town today?” Uncle asked.

“Naw, I’m going to take Isaac out for some pronghorn.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, work maybe?” Arthur suggested sarcastically.

“I’m going into town.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and waved him off.  “Isaac, you ready?”

Over the last few years, Arthur started introducing Isaac to low caliber guns, starting with hunting rabbits with a varmint rifle and working up to repeaters.  Arthur wasn’t too concerned with perfect pelts when he took Isaac out.  It wasn’t always easy getting a clean shot, and they could always use the meat with their growing gang.

Isaac ran over, his repeater slung over his shoulder.  “Ready, Pa!”

“Good.  You’re finding us a herd,” Arthur said, and they mounted up.  Isaac nudged Daisy into a trot, and they were off into the desert.

The gang’s search for good ranch land had taken them across much of the country, with little success.  The open grasslands in Kansas and Nebraska were too close to the big cities of the east, the Grizzlies weren’t great for ranching, the deserts of Utah and Nevada they were currently in were too hot.  At this rate, Dutch was going to drive them to the Pacific Ocean, only to find that countless boats were bringing too many folk into Los Angeles and San Francisco, and they’d probably turn right around again.

Arthur didn’t mind.  He liked traveling around the country, and Isaac was thriving.  His son loved riding and hunting with him, and was starting to learn how to sew clothes.  He was a good shot, too, as Arthur realized when Isaac lined up a head shot on one of the pronghorn.

“Good job, son!” Arthur said.

“I can’t believe I did it!  It’s perfect!” Isaac said.

“Now, you have to keep it perfect when you skin it.  You remember what to do?”

“I think so,” Isaac said, grabbing his knife.

With Arthur supervising, Isaac skinned the pronghorn by himself, carefully cutting and wrapping the meat, too.  Arthur let Isaac load the pelt on Daisy, hauling up the pronghorn carcass himself, since Isaac was still a little small to be carrying it.  But Isaac was growing fast, and Arthur couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he’d have to carry those weights for him.

They were back early, given their success, and dropped the meat off with Mr. Pearson.  “Well, we know who we’ll be toasting tonight for this stew!”

Just as they finished cleaning up their horses and Arthur had pulled off his wooden leg to give the limb a rest, he heard raised voices at the edge of camp.  “What’s going on?” Isaac wondered.

“I’ll go see,” Arthur said, grabbing his crutches and making his way over to where Dutch was talking to Uncle.  Whatever was going on, he hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with it.  Hosea liked to joke that once the leg came off, Arthur was done for the day.

“I thought I made it clear that your whoring was to be done outside of camp,” Dutch said to Uncle.

“Oh, I know what you said,” Uncle started, but Dutch cut him off again.

“Then why did you bring this woman back here?  Miss, I am truly sorry that you traveled all this way.  You are welcome to food and a place for the night, with no obligations.”

“Thank you, sir,” the woman said.  She was rather young, with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a few freckles on her light skin.

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked, though he already knew it was Uncle being Uncle.

“Uncle decided that certain rules don’t apply to him,” Dutch said.

“Stew will be on in an hour or so,” Arthur told her.  “What’s your name?”

“Abigail Roberts.”

“Good to meet you, Miss Roberts.  I’m Arthur.  Make yourself at home.  You can sit by the fire, or some of the girls are in a tent by that wagon if you’re more comfortable there.”

Dutch waited until Abigail was out of earshot to continue.  “Why did you bring her here?”

“I was trying to tell you!” Uncle said.  “I thought she could help the gang.  Not with that, unless she wants to, of course.  She was robbing them fools, went through their pockets while they was still half-dazed in bed.  Was making a decent haul, I’d say, so I invited her here.”

“So she can sleep with our men and rob them, too?”

“No!  We can help each other out.  She’s been stuck in this same town for ages now.  She’s looking for a way out, and I thought helping out poor, unfortunate folk was sort of your thing.”

Dutch sighed and said, “Let me discuss this with Arthur and Hosea.  As I said, she can stay the night, but if we decide this isn’t going to work out-”

“I know, I know,” Uncle said, and went to find Abigail.  Dutch called Hosea and Annabelle over to his tent, and Arthur sat down in one of his chairs.

Dutch paced back and forth in the tent.  “One of these days, I’m going to have enough of that man!”

“Did he bring her back to be a gang member or for the men?” Annabelle asked, annoyed but trying not to assume.

“He thinks she can be an asset.  And sure, I suppose, but he should have brought me to meet her, not the other way around!”

“She’s pretty young,” Hosea said.

“Uncle made it seem like she’s been working for a while,” Arthur said with a frown.

“Do you think she’s in trouble?” Annabelle asked.

“Only one way to find out.  We’ll talk to her, a bit later.  Let her get some food and relax for the night.  We’ll see what we can learn,” Dutch decided.

Arthur got up and went to the fire, where Abigail was meeting the gang members.  Sean seemed particularly interested in her, and Arthur chased him off.  Until they knew more about Abigail, he was determined that no one would sleep with her.

“Food will be ready soon,” Arthur said.  “You doing alright?”

“I’m fine.  What’s your name again?”

“Arthur Morgan.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan,” she said.  “Have you been with the gang long?”

“About fifteen years now,” Arthur said.

“Really?  That long?”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time.”  Arthur pointed over towards Isaac and said, “That’s my son, Isaac.”

“Uncle said the gang is like a family, I didn’t think so literally,” she laughed.

“Well, I’m the only one with a kid here.  But the gang is family.  Dutch and Hosea practically raised me.  They saved me when I was fourteen,” Arthur said.  “How old are you, Abigail?”

“Eighteen,” Abigail said.

“And how long have you been alone?”

She hesitated.  “For a while.  I’ve been working at saloons, cleaning at first and waitressing, but that doesn’t make much money.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said.

“It ain’t a glamorous life, that’s for sure,” she said.  “But I’m surviving.  I will survive, until I can get out of here.”

That she would, Arthur realized.  Abigail had been dealt a terrible hand in life, but she wasn’t about to give up.  “Where do you want to go?”

“I always thought I’d get married one day and live in a big house,” Abigail sighed.  “But I’m starting to think that may just be a fantasy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little dreaming,” Arthur said.

“So, does your wife mind living with a gang?”

“Oh, I’m not married,” Arthur said.  “Isaac’s mother passed a long time ago, and we… it’s a bit of a long story.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to bring anything up.”

“Don’t worry about it.  Like I said, it’s been several years now.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but Mr. Pearson shouted from his wagon, “Stew’s ready!”

“How about you get yourself something to eat,” Arthur said.

“Thank you.  Should I, uh, bring you some?” Abigail asked.

Just then, Hosea appeared with two bowls.  “Here you are, Arthur.”

“Thanks, Hosea!”

“You can let me know what you think of Mr. Pearson’s latest experimenting,” he laughed.

“Generosity with a price, old man?” Arthur joked, taking a bite.  “It tastes fine to me.”

Hosea took Abigail’s vacated spot when she went to get her own food.  “So, what do you think of her?”

“I don’t know.  She seems nice enough.  Uncle was right, she does want to get out of this town one day.  Dreams of a better life, and don’t we all.”

“Her story sound genuine?  Uncle said she was robbing her customers.  She could be a good actor.”

“Why?  You looking for an apprentice?” Arthur laughed.  “I think she was genuine.”

“Well, I’ll have to talk to her,” Hosea said.  “And Dutch and Annabelle will, too, but as long as she’s willing to work, she can stay.”

“Yeah, but not that kind of work, right?” Arthur said.  He looked over at Abigail, talking with John and Davey.  “It’s just kind of odd, her being in camp for that.”

“I understand,” Hosea said carefully.  “We’ll have to discuss with her what she wants to do.  And if she wants to offer her… services… in camp, there will have to be rules.”

“It’s just odd, you know?  Would folk in camp really… I mean I know people do, but…”

Hosea chuckled and said, “Now, I know you don’t really care for that sort of thing-”

“Paying a working girl?  No, of course not!”

“I more meant… oh, never mind.”

“What?”

“Just that you ain’t the kind to sleep around, that’s all.  Mary was the only girl you ever even looked at.  Hell, Dutch and I almost didn’t believe it when you came back saying you knocked up a girl.”

“You saying there’s something wrong with me?” Arthur asked.

“Of course not, son,” Hosea said, patting him on the back.  “I’m just saying that some of the boys might think differently about having her around.”

Arthur stared at Hosea, confused, but Hosea changed the subject.  “Isaac was saying earlier he landed a good shot while you two were hunting.”

“It was a perfect shot!” Arthur said, putting their conversation aside for the moment.  “He’s gotten so good, it’s incredible!”

Weeks passed without any incidents, and Abigail began to settle into the gang.  She was unsure of her place at first, offering her services to the men of the gang.  Some took her up on it.  Arthur didn’t.  As time went on, Abigail started doing more chores around camp and some scams with Hosea instead of having sex with gang members or men in town.

Though she was spending a lot of time with John.

“So, what do you like to do for fun around here?” Abigail asked John one night.

“Well, the robbing is pretty fun,” John said.  He lifted up his beer bottle.  “So is drinking.”

“I mean besides that,” she said.

“I like playing poker,” John said.  “Fishing with Hosea, playing with Copper, that’s always good.”

“You and Hosea seem pretty close.”

“Yeah, he’s like a father to me.  To Arthur as well.  I met him and Dutch when I was twelve.  They saved my life.”

“They’re good people,” Abigail said.

“What about you?  What do you do for fun?” John asked.

“Not much.  Haven’t had the time, always working.  There’s a lot I wish I did.  Wish I knew how to read.  Folk who read books always seem happy.”

“I don’t know.  Never really got into them myself.  The only reason I learned was because Hosea and Dutch thought it was necessary.  They’re the ones who taught me.”

“No one working in the saloons really cared for reading, either.  I did get to learn some piano, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  I can play a couple of songs,” Abigail said, smiling at the memory.

“You know, if you’re looking for some fun, I’ve got an idea,” John said, and that was when Arthur excused himself from the conversation.  He really didn’t want to know where that was going.

“Come on, Copper, let’s go for a walk.  Isaac, want to go fishing?”

“Oh, uh, Sean is going to teach me blackjack,” Isaac said awkwardly.

“Just don’t let Sean take too much of your money,” Arthur said, trying not to let his disappointment show.

“I’ll go with you, Arthur,” Dutch said.  “It’s been a while since we spent time together.”

They wandered out of camp and down towards the river, Copper running ahead and barking at squirrels.  Arthur couldn’t help but look back at the camp, and Dutch just laughed.  “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

“My son is learning how to gamble, and that’s all you have to say?”

“I know what it’s like raising sons, Arthur, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Yeah, you sure know exactly what it’s like, don’t you?  Your youngest was John at twelve,” Arthur laughed.

“Well, you have me there.”

“You and Annabelle ever consider having kids?”

“Could you imagine having a baby in camp?  Having Isaac around when he was four was worrying enough,” Dutch joked.  But Arthur glanced up at him, wondering if he was only pretending, and Dutch noticed.  “We discussed it a few times, son.  This gang?  This is the family Anna and I want.”

“Yeah, I understand.  As much as I miss when Isaac was small, it certainly wasn’t easy.”

“It might be different now.  The gang was small back then, and it was a lot harder making sure someone was in camp with him,” Dutch said thoughtfully.

“Do I need to warn Anna that you’re changing your mind?” Arthur teased.

“Maybe once we have a ranch,” Dutch replied.

“Well, don’t wait too long to pick a place.  You’re almost forty, and she ain’t that far behind.”

“Shut up, Arthur!”

Three months later, they were forced to revisit the conversation about what to do with a baby in camp.

Because Abigail was pregnant.

Chapter Text

When Arthur found John on the edge of camp, his younger brother didn’t bother to look up before snarling, “You here to yell at me, too?”

Arthur overheard the long arguments between John and Abigail, followed by one between John and Dutch, and didn’t think John needed another one.  He sat down on the log with him and said, “Well, I’d give you a lecture about getting a girl pregnant, but I think that would make me a hypocrite.  You doing alright?”

“I didn’t get her pregnant.  That baby isn’t mine!”

“So you pulled out every time?”

“Yes!  Well, there was one time, things kind of happened fast,” John said, embarrassed.  “But it was just once!”

“Sometimes once is all it takes,” Arthur said, patting John on  the shoulder.  “Trust me, I know.”

“But that doesn’t mean… I know she was sleeping with other people.”

“Not recently,” Arthur said.

“You can’t know that I’m the father for sure.  No one can.”

“Look, if Abigail says you’re the father, you probably are.  She hasn’t worked in town in a long time.”  John and Abigail had been getting pretty close over the last few months, and Abigail was doing chores in camp and not… that.

“Then what if it’s someone in the gang?” John asked.

“Like who?”

“Sean or Bill maybe.  Or Uncle, seeing as he’s the one who brought her back here.”

“God help that baby if Uncle is the father,” Arthur joked.  “And between us, I ain’t sure if Abigail is Bill’s type.”

“This isn’t funny!” John said.  “How am I supposed to be a father if I don’t even know the baby is mine?  How did you know Isaac was yours?”

“I mean, look at him,” Arthur said.  Isaac had a bit of Eliza’s face, but the rest of him was all Arthur.

“Yeah, but what about when Eliza told you she was pregnant?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said.  “I guess I just believed her.  Couldn’t see any reason why she’d lie about it.  Do you really think Abigail would lie?”

“What if she’s trying to, I don’t know, lock me down or something?  I don’t want to get married.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Arthur said.  “No one said you had to marry her.”

“She said she doesn’t want to raise a baby alone.”

“Well, of course not!  She needs help, and I’m sure she wants you involved.  You two do seem to like each other.”

“But I don’t want to be a father!” John said.

Arthur sighed.  “Why not?

He learned to ask that question with Isaac.  Whenever his son was adamantly against going somewhere or doing something, Arthur was sure to ask why.  Usually, the answer was fear or uncertainty, and Arthur could try to help him through it.  He had a feeling John’s reluctance to accept his kid was from something similar.

“I- she- how am I supposed to be a father?” John stammered.  “I don’t know how to raise a kid!”

“Listen, John, I know how you feel.”

“No you don’t.  You’re great with Isaac, always have been.”

“That’s not true.  I had no idea what to do when Eliza told me.  I tried to do right, but I had to learn a whole lot.”

“Really?”

“I was terrified,” Arthur said.  “I didn’t know what to do, and I was sure I was going to mess up.  I swore I would help Eliza financially, but fatherhood?  I wasn’t sure I could do that.  But when I held Isaac that first time, I knew I had to learn.”

“I don’t know, Arthur,” John said, staring down at the grass and kicking a small rock down the hill.

“Listen, just talk to Abigail.  We’re all going to support and help you both, but you and Abigail need to figure out what will work for you.  I’m sure she’s just as scared as you.  Probably more.  She doesn’t get to ask if the kid is hers.”

“Okay,” John said.  “I’ll talk to her again.  But if that kid is a redhead…”

Arthur laughed, “In that case, you have my permission to force Sean into parenthood.”

“I’m still don’t know how that kid could be mine.  I- I just don’t know.  I shouldn’t be a father.”

“That’s why you need to actually talk to Abigail.  Talk, not yell.  Go on, now,” Arthur said, giving him a slight push.

Arthur crossed his fingers that the second conversation between John and Abigail.  He couldn’t hear them, so that was an improvement.  After a minute, Hosea slid into the spot John vacated.  “Thank you,” Hosea said.  “I know Dutch means well, but he really wasn’t helping.”

“Yeah, shouting at him about responsibility was not the way to go,” Arthur said.

“I talked to Dutch after, and calmed him down a little.  Abigail is, of course, welcome to stay with the gang whether she and John are together or not,” Hosea said.  “And I reminded him of some of the conversations we had when you were trying to figure out what to do with Isaac.”

“About leaving the gang?  And living honest?” Arthur asked.  “I don’t see John doing that.  Not right now.”

“No, but I felt it best to remind Dutch that we will not discourage our kids from taking that option,” Hosea said.

“Besides, aren’t we all heading in that direction with the ranch?” Arthur said.

“Sure, but we still have a long way to go.  And a lot to buy for a baby.”

“I wish I’d kept some of Isaac’s old clothes, but I didn’t think we’d ever need them.  It wasn’t worth packing.”

“It would have been a lot of stuff to drag around these last few years,” Hosea joked.

Arthur looked over to Isaac, watching John and Abigail from afar with a confused expression.  “I’m going to have to give him the talk, aren’t I?”

Hosea placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and said, “I think he’s overheard enough to have some questions.  Good luck, Arthur.  Call me if you need any help.”

Arthur sighed, and walked over to Isaac.  “You doing alright?” he asked.  “I know there’s a lot going on.”

“I guess,” Isaac said.  “Why does everyone keep saying the baby is an accident?  I thought people have babies because they want to.”

“That’s a bit complicated,” Arthur started.  “You see, when two people like each other, they sometimes do something called sex.”

Arthur launched into a simple explanation of the mechanics involved, and how it could result in a baby.  At the end, Isaac raised an eyebrow and said, “That sounds kind of gross.”

“Yeah, I guess just talking about what goes on, it does sound gross,” Arthur chuckled.  “But when you’re with someone who wants to have sex with you, and you want to do it with them, it can be fun.  And feel good.  So, people do it even when they aren’t trying to have kids, and they try to be careful, but that doesn’t always work.”

“Was I… never mind.”

“What?”

“Did you and Ma want to have me?  Or was I…”

“Oh,” Arthur said.  “Well, we, uh, weren’t planning on having a kid.”

“So, I was an accident?” Isaac whispered.

“Hey, come here,” Arthur said, wrapping an arm around Isaac and pulling him into a hug.  “I don’t want you thinking that your ma and I didn’t want you, because we did.  Finding out she was pregnant… it was confusing and unexpected.  But we wanted you, and loved you before we even met you.”

“Really?”

“Really.  And John and Abigail?  They’re just as confused, worried, and surprised as we were, but with a little help and support, I think they’ll be happy to have a kid, too.”

Isaac nodded, leaning into Arthur’s hug.

“What do you think about there being a baby here?  You excited?”

“I guess.”

“Babies need a lot of care and attention,” Arthur said.  “And since I’m the only one here who knows how to care for babies, I’ll probably be helping them out a lot.  But I promise to keep spending time with you, and if I’m not doing enough, you let me know, okay?”

“Okay, Pa.”

“That’s my boy,” Arthur said.

Over the next few months, Abigail came to Arthur more than John with her questions and concerns.  Arthur figured she wanted the advice of another parent, but he could tell it annoyed John.  Despite Abigail reassuring John again and again that the baby was his, that he was the only one she was having sex with around the time she got pregnant, John still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that he was going to be a father.  And the more he ignored Abigail, the more she went to Arthur, and the more John grew suspicious that Abigail wasn’t telling the truth.  That there was a mistake.  That he wouldn’t have to raise a child.

At the same time, Arthur suspected that John liked Abigail more than he was letting on, and was jealous.

“Arthur, do you have a minute?” Abigail asked.  John sent Arthur a glare.

“Sure, Abigail.  How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess.  A little tired.”

“What’s going on?”

“I need some new clothes.  These are getting a little tight,” she said awkwardly.

Arthur sighed.  “Did you ask John about it?”

“No, not yet,” she said.  “He always seems so bothered when I ask him for help.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Arthur said, pulling a few bills from his satchel.  “And here, take some money for new clothes.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” she said.

Arthur watched her leave, then went over to John, who was chopping wood.  “What?” he asked.

“You can’t just keep ignoring Abigail.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard.”

“She’s the one who keeps going to you for everything.”

“She keeps coming to me because I help her.  And I can answer some of her kid questions,” Arthur said.  “Why are you avoiding her?”

“Look, I promised I’d do her share of the work so she can stay with the gang,” John said.  “What more am I supposed to do?”

“Care for her, maybe?” Arthur suggested.  “Listen to her concerns?  Spend a little more time with her?  Come on, I know you like her.”

“Yeah, I like her, okay?” John said.  “But I don’t want a kid!”

“Well, she kind of comes with one now.  And it’s yours.”

“I can’t have a kid, Arthur.  I know you and Dutch and Hosea want me to be a father, but I can’t.  I’m going to screw it up!”

“You ain’t gonna screw it up,” Arthur said.  “How many times do I have to tell you?  We’re all here, we’ll all help you.”

John turned away and went back to chopping wood, the logs splintering and almost exploding under the force of his ax.

“John, stop,” Arthur said.  “This kid won’t grow up like we did, I promise.”

“What the fuck do you know about how I grew up?”

“I know my biggest fear with Isaac was becoming just like my daddy,” Arthur said.  “And I never got the feeling yours was much better.”

John threw down the ax, collapsing onto the stump.  “Yeah, he wasn’t good.  But after he died?  That was worse sometimes.”

“John, your kid is going to have so many uncles and aunts helping out.  You won’t ever have to worry about him being alone or messing up.”  John didn’t look up, so Arthur continued, “And being a father?  John, you are good with Isaac, too.  You’ve always looked out for him.  In fact, I seem to recall you taking care of him when I was laid up with my leg.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You made him feel safe,” Arthur said.  “I know it being your kid is different, but you’ve got to trust me on this.  Kids ain’t too complicated.  Love them, care for them, listen to them… and I promise you’ll be fine.”

Arthur wondered if he’d gotten through to John, because it looked like John was starting to think.  And then John said, “When you got hurt, everyone was real scared.  Isaac thought you were dead, and I had to go into town to see you for him.”

“I remember Dutch telling me that,” Arthur said, nodding along but not sure where this was going.

“When I got there, Dutch was… what if that was me?”

“If you’re worried about being in danger and your kid losing you, then talk to Dutch and Hosea.”

“I know, but… the way Dutch was talking to you, he’s like our father, Arthur.  What if my kid got hurt like that?  Aren’t you ever scared for Isaac?”

“Of course,” Arthur said.  “All the time, but you can’t let that keep you from having a relationship with your kid.  And like I said, your kid is going to have so many folk looking out for him.  We’ll keep him safe.”

John nodded, attempting a joke.  “I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

Arthur laughed and said, “I think you’re being a father.  And you thought you’d be bad at it.”

“I still don’t know what to do,” John said.

“You can start by driving your woman into town to get some new clothes.  Maybe buy her dinner, have a proper date.”

“Okay.”

“And trust me, John.  Your kid is going to be just fine.”

John glanced over to Abigail, who was asking around for someone to help take her into town, and rushed over to her.  He paused, calling over his shoulder, “Thank you, Arthur,” before grabbing Rory and one of their other Suffolk Punches to hitch to the wagon.

As the gang settled into an abandoned homestead for the winter and Abigail got closer and closer to her due date, Dutch and Hosea started looking into land just over the border in California.  They were stuck in Carson City, unable to start the journey over the Sierra Nevada until after the snows began to melt.  Most folk out west knew the story of the Donner Party, and considering that Dutch planned to travel by Lake Tahoe to get to the fertile valley in central California, where they hoped to find their ranch, they figured they’d work Carson City for a while.

At least, that was the plan, since most of the heavy snowfall in the Sierra Nevada stayed in the Sierra Nevada.  But just after the new year, a few heavy clouds made their way a little farther and dumped two feet of snow on the ground, effectively trapping them all in the house and burying all the chickens they kept for eggs and emergencies.

“What are we supposed to do?” John asked.  “We need food!”

“Calm down, everyone!” Dutch said.  “We have food reserves, we are going to be fine.”

“We have plenty of canned food to last us a while, and I’m sure the storm will clear enough to make it to the general store soon,” Annabelle added.

They really did have enough food, especially since Hosea, Karen, Mac, and Davey were all stuck out in Carson City on a scam they’d been running, but cabin fever was setting in fast, and as the storm continued, so did the complaining.  Everyone decided that the solution was fresh meat, and within a few days, Dutch had enough.

“Fine!  You want to eat chicken so bad?  I’ll find us some chickens.”  And he stormed off into the snow.

“Well, at least we don’t got to listen to his complaining anymore,” Arthur said to Isaac.  He and his son were having a great time, going sledding and having snowball fights.  It was a nice break from hunting, even if folk were begging him to go hunting for the game that was probably hunkered down to wait out the storm, too.

“Arthur?” John called from the doorway.

“Hey, have you heard the good news?  Dutch is going to save us!” Arthur said, before taking in John’s pale face.

“It’s, uh, it’s time,” John said.

“What?”

“Mr. Morgan!” Susan shouted, bursting into the room.  “Do you think you can make it to town?  We need that midwife, now!”

“Yeah, Bo can make it, I’m sure,” Arthur stammered, checking the snow out the window.  The wind had slowed, at least.  “Now?  You sure?”

“Yes, now!  And fast.”

“Okay,” he said.  In the other room, Abigail was calling for John again.  “Keep an eye on Isaac for me, will you?”

“I’m fine, Pa,” Isaac said.

“There’s a whole house full of people, Mr. Morgan,” Susan said.  “Go on now!”

With one last look at Isaac, then Abigail and John, Arthur ran out into the snowstorm, tacked Boadicea, and started towards town.  Even pushing as fast as he was, it took him over an hour to get to town and to the house of the midwife Susan had selected in preparation for the birth.  They were prepared, after all.  The weather, however…

“John’s kid would decide to come in the middle of a blizzard,” Arthur grumbled as he trudged to the house.  “Isaac had the decency to choose a nice day.”

He pounded on the door for at least two minutes before a woman opened the door.  “Miss Torres?”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” the woman said.  “You have a baby coming in this weather.”

“Yes,” Arthur said.  “We’re at a homestead about an hour out of town.”

“Good lord,” Miss Torres said.

“I’ve got a horse.  You can ride with me.”

“I should hope so, young man,” she said.  “Let me get my bag.”

Arthur pushed Boadicea even more on the way back, reassuring her that she would get all his peppermints when they were back at the barn.  As they rode through town, Arthur caught sight of Hosea leaving the general store.  “Hosea!  Abigail’s having the baby!” he shouted across the road.

Hosea jumped, but a smile spread across his face.  He yanked the saloon door open and shouted, “Mac!  Davey!  Karen!  You can handle things here, right?”  Whatever they said was lost in the wind, but Hosea was mounting Silver Dollar and following Boadicea down the road towards their homestead.

When they got back to the house, John was sitting in the middle of the living room, his fingers shaking around his whiskey glass.  “Everything okay?” Arthur asked him.

“She kicked me out,” John said.

Arthur laughed as he sat down next to John.  Annabelle escorted the midwife to Abigail’s room, and he heard Abigail let out a string of curses when the door opened.  “Everything will be just fine, John.”

“She says it’s all my fault and she’s never having another one,” John groaned.

“I’m pretty sure Eliza said something similar about me when she was having Isaac,” Arthur said.  “Speaking of which, I’m going to check on him real quick.  Tilly?  You mind keeping John company?”

“Sure,” she said.

“And don’t let him drink any more than that, in case Abigail let’s him back in.”

Abigail eventually did let John back in the room, though the midwife was adamantly against the father being present during the birth.  “You fathers are always so nervous,” she explained.  “So keep it together, or I’ll be the one kicking you out!”

Everyone else nervously waited on the first floor, playing card games.  Isaac started yawning but wanted to wait with the family, so Hosea began teaching him how to cheat at card games, a technique that everyone watched with great interest.  But the labor continued on, and Arthur put Isaac in bed around midnight.

“Is it supposed to take this long?” Mary-Beth asked at one point.

“It can,” Hosea said.  He looked around the group suddenly and asked, “Where’s Dutch?”

“He went a little stir crazy and went off to find us some fresh meat,” Arthur said.

“We’ll give him until morning, then send out a search party,” Hosea grumbled.

At the rate they were going, Abigail would still be in labor come morning.  Arthur didn’t want to think about that.  John’s kid would make this difficult.

And then they heard it, the soft, newborn cries.  Everyone looked up to Abigail’s room, smiles spreading across their faces.

The front door opened.

“I’m back, and I brought chickens!” Dutch announced.  “And a new friend, Mr. Javier Escuella.”  He pushed the thin, shivering man towards the fire, looked around all the happy faces and said, “Well, you all must be excited about these chickens.”

Then he heard the cries too, sinking into a chair as he realized what was happening.  Hosea grabbed Javier and wrapped him in a blanket.  Mr. Pearson seemed to be the only one who cared about the chickens, but only so he could make a good meal for the new parents.  Annabelle appeared on the second floor landing, announcing to the celebrating crowd, “It’s a boy!”

Chapter Text

Abigail never thought she would love anything as much as her son.  She was exhausted, hurting, hungry for something that wasn’t canned fruit, but none of that mattered as much as the sleeping baby in her arms.

John sat on the bed with her, staring at their son, too.  “I can’t believe it.  He’s so…”

“Perfect,” she said.

“Tiny,” John said instead.

“Really?  Tiny?” Abigail said, glaring at him.

“Maybe don’t say that to the woman who gave birth to him, John,” Annabelle said.

“Right, sorry,” John said with a grin.

“You two ready for some visitors?” Annabelle asked.  “Just the close family, of course.  I think Hosea and Arthur are about to knock this door down.”

“Okay,” Abigail said.  They’d gotten the night to themselves, with just Annabelle and Susan helping them out after the midwife went back to town.  Not that either of them got much sleep, but now was a good time to introduce their son to some of the gang members.

Arthur and Hosea were there immediately, and Dutch wasn’t far behind.  “Hi,” Hosea whispered.  “Oh, look at him!”

“He’s beautiful,” said Arthur.

“How are you doing, Abigail?  John?” Hosea asked.

“Tired.  So tired, and so happy,” she said.

“John, Abigail, congratulations!” Dutch said.  “You’ve brought a wonderful child into this world.  Did you two pick a name?”

“I want to name him after John,” Abigail said.

“How did you manage to convince her to do that,” Hosea teased John.

“It was her idea!”

Abigail smiled and said, “We’re going to call him Jack.”

“Hi, Jack,” Arthur said, holding out his arms.  “May I?”

She hesitated, because she didn’t want her son out of her arms for even a second yet.  But she relented, knowing she could trust Arthur with Jack.

Arthur grinned as Jack shifted in his arms, letting out a small noise in protest of being moved.  “Hi, Jack.  I’m your Uncle Arthur.”

“You’re going to have a lot of uncles,” Hosea said.  “And aunts, and your cousin Isaac.  In fact, we picked up a new uncle just last night.”

“Really?” John asked.

“Perhaps,” Dutch said.  “His name is Javier, and if my limited Spanish is correct, he’s on the run from the Mexican government.  He was stuck out in the storm, trying to steal the same chickens I was after.”

“Well, it’s not the worst way we got someone in the gang,” John said.

“He doesn’t speak much English, I don’t think, but he seems friendly enough.”

“Another lost soul for the Dutch van der Linde finishing school,” Arthur teased.

“It seems so,” Dutch said.

Jack shifted again in Arthur’s arms, letting out a louder cry.  “Oh, do you want to go back to your mama?” Arthur asked.

“He might be hungry,” Abigail said.

“Here you are,” Arthur said.  “We’ll give you some privacy.”

“It’s alright, Jack.  I’m right here,” Abigail said, gathering the baby back into her arms.  “I expect we’ll be getting more visitors soon.”

“Of course!” Dutch laughed.

“Just let us know if you need alone time, and we’ll kick anyone out who’s bothering you,” Arthur said, before leaning in and kissing Abigail on the forehead.  “Congratulations!”

“What, no congratulations for me?” John said.

“You did the easy part nine months ago,” she grumbled.

“Hey, you enjoyed that part!”

“John, please, not in front of the baby!”

“He doesn’t know what we’re saying!”

“Could you hold him for a second?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure,” he said.  He was a bit awkward gathering Jack into his arms, they both were, really.  Even with Hosea and Susan forcing them to carry, dress, and change flour sacks for weeks, having a real, squirming baby, their baby, in their arms made them extra cautious.

Abigail adjusted her pillows, trying to find a comfortable position.  “Alright, ready.”  But John didn’t move.  He just stared down at his son, beaming.  “John, he’s hungry.”

“Sorry,” John said, handing Jack to Abigail.  “I was just thinking about something Arthur told me.  From when Isaac was born.”

“I don’t know what I would have done without Arthur around,” she said.  “I felt like I was always bothering him with questions, but he didn’t care one bit.”

“Well, that’s Arthur,” John replied.

“We might need to force him away sometimes so we can have time with Jack,” she said.

“Arthur missed a lot from Isaac’s younger years.  Isaac didn’t join the gang until he was four, and Arthur was with us most of the time.”

“That’s a real shame.”

“Yeah,” John said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  “I don’t want to miss any of this.”

And in that moment, Abigail found herself loving John Marston, too.

Despite Abigail’s fears of being a mother in camp of outlaws, she found she never needed to do more than ask to get help.  If she needed a moment to herself, Susan was right there to take Jack for a walk around camp.  When Arthur wasn’t out hunting with Isaac, he was always making excuses to visit Abigail and Jack to the point where she and John had to kick him out.  At the same time, Abigail was so proud of her son for not minding being passed around between his aunts and uncles.  Jack loved the attention, soon smiling and giggling when someone new came up to him.  Sometimes, it felt like she was fighting for time with her own son.

He laughed whenever Copper came up to him, sticking his head in the bassinet Mr. Pearson and Hosea built.  They were worried about Copper at first, since the dog didn’t have a sense of boundaries, but Copper seemed to understand that babies were fragile.

He was in awe the first time Arthur took him out to meet the horses, crying a little when Boadicea snorted all over his face as Arthur laughed and calmed him down.

He fell asleep to the soft sounds of their newest gang member’s guitar playing.  Javier Escuella was having trouble connecting with the gang, especially since he was still struggling with English.  And then Dutch found out that he used to play guitar before he was forced to sell his to buy food.  A few days later, there was a stolen guitar in camp.  Most nights around the campfire, Jack was kept awake by the gang singing, but when Javier was just strumming a simple tune, Jack began drifting in her arms.  

“John, Abigail, you two should be so proud,” Dutch liked to say whenever he got to hold Jack.  Dutch had quite obviously caught baby fever, and despite swearing up and down that having one baby in the camp was enough, John believed that Dutch was trying to convince Annabelle to have one, but Annabelle was determined to wait until they had the money for a ranch.

Abigail also hoped they’d be able to settle on a ranch, soon.  They were slowly picking Nevada dry of jobs, but the passes through the Sierra Nevada were still buried in snow.  Arthur occasionally inspected the area while hunting, but couldn’t make it very far.  They were getting ready to try about six months after Jack’s birth, when suddenly Jack’s crying when from manageable whimpers to full screaming.

“Come on Jack, settle, please?” Abigail said, walking the same path behind the tents again and again.  Now, of course, many of the gang members were happy to let her deal with Jack by herself.  Not all of them, but with John working jobs again to earn money for himself, her, and Jack, she couldn’t easily hide in their tent.  He needed sleep, as did Arthur, Dutch, and Annabelle.

Fortunately, one man was taking a break from jobs to be available, no matter what.

“Mr. Matthews?” she said outside his tent at two in the morning.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Hosea groaned.  “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!  He’s fed, his nappy is clean, I’ve been holding him.”  Abigail could feel the glares of the other gang members.  In Arthur’s tent, Isaac flipped over and stuffed the pillow over his ears and the man himself sat up to see what was going on outside.

“Here, we’ll go over by the trees for a bit,” Hosea said, grabbing a book.  When Hosea was optimistic he could get Jack back to sleep, he didn’t bother with the entertainment, and this wasn’t one of those times.  He sat down on a rock and held out his arms.  “Alright, kid, what’s bothering you?  Too hot?  Too cold?  Your pa is snoring too loud?”

Jack whimpered and threw his arms against his blankets.

“Too hot maybe?  It is getting into spring, you won’t need these heavy blankets no more.”  Hosea pulled them back slightly, and Jack settled a little more.  But he was still wide awake.

“Oh, come on, Jack,” Abigail yawned.

“Why don’t you go to bed, I’ve got him,” Hosea said.

“No, I shouldn’t.  I’d feel horrible if you sat out here by yourself all night.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine, it’s not the first time I’ve had to sit up with a kid all night,” he said.  “But suit yourself.”

“Do you have much experience with babies, Mr. Matthews?”

“Oh, call me Hosea, will you, dear?”

“Okay, Hosea.”

“Not with babies, no.  All my kids I got as unruly teenagers,” he joked.  “But they’ve had their own share of problems.  Trust me, crying infant is more pleasant than John when he’s got a cold.”

She let out a tired laugh at that.

“Now, let’s see if we can solve this problem,” Hosea said.  “Surely, you must be tired, Jack.”

“He did have a long nap earlier,” she said.

“Is that it?  Are you just bored and want some company?”

Jack gurgled and began chewing on Hosea’s shirt sleeve.

“Jack,” Abigail groaned.

“He’s fine.  Better than Copper in his puppy days,” Hosea said, carefully extracting his shirt from Jack’s mouth.  Jack grabbed at the shirt again.  “Is your mouth bugging you, sweetie?”

“What is it?”

Hosea smiled and said, “I think your son has a tooth!”

“Already?  So, that’s what’s bothering him,” she said.

“You got any clean cloths around?  He seems to want something in his mouth.”

“Oh, let me see.”  She rushed back to the tent, finding an old but clean rag, and came back.

“Let’s dip this in a bit of water, and there you go.”  Jack took the rag and began to chew happily.  “Feel better?”

“How did you know to do that?”

“Oh, I remember Arthur complaining about teething back when Isaac started doing it.  Spent a whole month at Eliza’s helping out.  Thought Dutch was going to go insane waiting for him to come back,” Hosea chuckled.

“Was it hard for him, having his son live somewhere else?”

“Oh, immensely hard,” Hosea said.  “He denied it, of course.  Arthur is nothing if not loyal to Dutch.  But every time he left, I think part of me hoped he’d stay with them.  Sure, I would have missed him so much, but Arthur always came back.  And the last time was with Isaac.”

“What was it like, suddenly having a kid in the gang like that?”

“Difficult.  Arthur was still robbing at the time, and that was a hard adjustment for Isaac.  Arthur was considering leaving the gang, at least temporarily, and then…”  Hosea paused, looking away as he gathered his thoughts.  “Well, Arthur found a compromise.  And he’s gotten quite talented with his crafting, as you know.”

“He made all my winter clothes.  My coat didn’t fit, and he made a new one for me right away.  Dropped everything.”

“That’s how Arthur shows he cares.  He gives gifts,” Hosea said.

“And John?”

“I think John tries to use words, he’s just not the best with them,” Hosea chuckled.  “When he listens to what you’re saying, that’s when you know he cares.”

“He’s done well enough, so far,” Abigail said.  “I almost wish he’d do something honest like Arthur so he’d be around more.”

Hosea gave her a sad, nostalgic smile.  “I remember having many a conversation about that with my wife, Bessie.  She wasn’t an outlaw, but she lived with us.  And she always worried about me.  We found our compromise.  If you are having these feelings now, I would talk to John about them.  You and John can find a compromise, too.”

The next morning, after both Abigail and Jack managed to get a few hours of sleep, she took Hosea’s advice.

“John, can we talk?”

“Sure,” he said.  “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, exactly, it’s just…”  She sat down on their cot, and John joined her.  “I was talking with Hosea about the gang and… have you ever thought about doing something honest?

“Honest?  Me?  No,” John said.

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just been worried, I guess.  I’m glad we’ve got so many folk willing to help us out.  Everyone loves Jack, but part of me wants to be a normal family.”

“What do you mean by normal?”

“I guess living in a house.  Not worrying about bounty hunters or getting shot.”

“We are working towards a ranch, you know.”

“I know, but a ranch run by a bunch of outlaws with prices on their heads.  I just worry,” Abigail said.

“So, what?  We’re supposed to just strike off on our own?  Leave Hosea and Arthur?  And Dutch?” John asked, shaking his head and getting up to pace the tent.  “I ain’t doing that.”

“I just want our son to have options, you know?  Something I didn’t have.”

“And what is wrong with this life?  It’s how I was raised, it’s how Isaac is being raised.”

“Isaac ain’t learning how to shoot people and rob banks, and I won’t have Jack learning that, either,” she said.  “I won’t have a son with a price on his head.”

John softened, collapsing back onto the cot with a sigh.  “I don’t want that, either.  I promise, I don’t.  I’m just not sure what else I can do right now.  If we can save the money and get land in California, I guess I’ll be learning ranching.  But until then, I ain’t quite sure how else to provide for you and Jack.”

“I know.  But if something happened to the gang, how would we take care of Jack and ourselves?”

“Maybe we could save some of our own money,” John said.  “As a backup.  We’ve always given extra to the camp fund, and sure I’ve been giving less lately because of all we’re buying for the baby, but I could talk to Dutch and Hosea.  The gang savings can still get it’s share, but whatever else we don’t spend, we keep.  For Jack.”

“In case we ever need to run?”

“Or in case… look, I promise I’m careful on these jobs.  I got shot once before, and I don’t want to deal with that again,” he said.  “But at least you and Jack would have something.”

They talked to Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Annabelle after that.  Dutch seemed a little concerned with the idea of John contributing less to the camp fund, but he was quickly outvoted by the others.  “Besides,” Annabelle said, “It shouldn’t be an issue once we’re on our ranch.  They have a baby, they need a bit of savings anyway.”

“Fine, go ahead,” Dutch said.

“And I can start doing more work around camp,” Abigail offered.  “Laundry, some sewing, brushing horses.  Just as long as someone has an eye on Jack.”

“Of course.  Just talk to Susan, you two can figure that out,” Hosea said.

And that’s what they did.  John and Abigail started a small savings fund, feeling better once they had a few hundred dollars stashed away for emergencies.  True to his word, John was careful while working, never going on solo jobs and taking trusted members with him, like Mac, Davey, and Annabelle.  Javier, too.  While Javier was still pretty new, he was showing to be quite competent.

“I heard there’s a stagecoach with a lot of rich passengers coming through,” Javier said.  “Will you go with me?”

“Sure.  Where’s it coming from?”

“It arrived in Carson City earlier for some repairs, so we can check it out before it leaves, see if it’s worth hitting.”

“Sounds good, let’s get the horses.”

Not long ago, Arthur helped Javier pick out a new horse, a beautiful grey overo Paint that Javier named Boaz.  It really helped Javier feel like part of their gang.  Boaz was a sweetheart, and one of Abigail’s favorites to take care of.  The Count on the other hand, spooked easily and liked to run away from her.

She tried to keep herself busy while John was away, doing more chores, but she wasn’t calm until he wandered back into camp.  “How did you get on?” she asked him.

“Ah, not good.  It was all women and children waiting for the coach in town, so we decided not to go for it.”

“Oh, well.  I’m sure there will be more opportunities.”

“It gives me an afternoon with this guy!” John said, lifting Jack out of his crib and high into the air.  Jack shrieked and giggled.  “Did you miss me?  I sure missed you.  Were you good for your mother?”

“He was good.  I think he’s happy to see you.”

“Well, then, since I have a free day, let’s take a walk around camp,” John said.  “We can go see what Arthur and Isaac are doing, how about that?”

“I’ll join you in a bit,” she said.  “I just have to finish one more dish.”

“Alright, looking forward to it!”

She smiled and hummed an old saloon tune as she finished the dishes and watched John carry their son around camp.  Sure, they lived in tents, but she could understand why John didn’t want to give up this family.

But the next morning, Hosea raced into camp waving a newspaper and shouting for Dutch.  The O’Driscoll gang was in the area, having robbed the same stagecoach John and Javier had been after the day before.

Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Annabelle argued, scouted, and planned.  Dutch was determined to go after Colm O’Driscoll and end the feud, but both Hosea and Arthur were against it.  They didn’t think it was worth it.  So, they packed the camp, heading north.  They spent money on supplies, wagon repairs, and travel clothes.  

And the ranch was put on hold.

Chapter Text

“How does that new scope feel?” Arthur asked Isaac.  They were crouching near a river, and Isaac was hoping to take down an elk.  They were certainly plentiful near the Canadian border in Montana.  After nearly four years of robbing and wandering, they were so close to their ranch.  In fact, Dutch was telling the gang not to rob for the moment in case he found the land he was looking for in Montana, so Arthur and Isaac were the ones keeping the gang fed.

“The scope is fine, I guess.  Takes some getting used to,” Isaac whispered back.

“Which one are you aiming at?”

“The bull.”

Arthur grinned.  Of course Isaac wanted the prize animal for himself.  His kid was learning well.  “That makes it easy.  I’ll grab one of the others.  Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Arthur let out a sharp whistle, and the herd looked up.  He released the air from his lungs, hearing Isaac do the same.  As soon as Isaac fired his rifle, he pulled the trigger, and two of the elk went down.

“Alright, let’s get them!” Arthur said, patting Isaac on the shoulder and calling for Boadicea and Rory.  Isaac was going through a growth spurt at the moment, and they found that Daisy was getting too old to carry both him and the many pelts they were collecting.  Hosea ended up talking to a local farmer looking for an older, calm pony to teach his young children how to ride, and Hosea knew that Daisy would be perfect.  It was sad to say goodbye to her after so many years, but even Isaac had to admit it was time.  Arthur promised to buy Isaac a horse of his choice once they knew what was going on with Dutch’s latest ranch idea.  Plus, Arthur figured Isaac should wait to see how tall he ended up being before he picked a horse.  For now, Isaac was fine with riding Rory.

They skinned the animals and wrapped up the meat, riding back to the old farmhouse they were occupying.  Copper barked and lazily wandered over to them.  He was rather old now, too.  His muzzle had turned grey and he slept most of the day, but he still greeted Arthur and Isaac whenever they returned to camp.  “How did you get on, Mr. Morgan?” Susan asked.

“Got some elk meat,” Arthur said.  “Should last us a bit.”

“Good,” Susan said.  “Do you need help unloading?”

But Isaac just grabbed the pelt and hauled it over his shoulder, taking it over to Arthur’s wagon.  Susan’s eyes widened, and she said, “When did he get so strong?”

“About two pants adjustments ago,” Arthur joked.  “All my money is going to clothes for that boy.”

“I think he’s already taller than you were at that age.  And more muscular.”

“He is eating better than I did at that age.”

“That does help,” Susan said.  She leaned down and rubbed Copper behind the ears as the dog sighed and settled back down.  “Is Copper alright?”

“I think he’s just old,” Arthur replied.  He did notice that the dog was slowing down, and wasn’t eating as much anymore.

“We’ve had him for what, ten years now?” Susan asked.

“More than that.”

“But he still manages to cause trouble,” she said, giving him a pat on the head and going back to her work.  “Give that meat to Pearson so he can get some of it salted.”

Arthur made his deliveries and got to work tanning the pelts.  He looked over the pelt that Isaac got, wondering if it would make a good set of clothes.  Besides a horse, Arthur wanted to make Isaac a good coat once he stopped growing, or at least stopped growing so quickly.

“Need any help, Arthur?” Tilly asked.

“I can always use an extra hand or two,” Arthur said.  “I’ve got more supply than I know what to do with these days.”

Elk, deer, ram, a black bear or two… Arthur didn’t have time for all the pelts and orders he received.  Isaac helped him some, and Tilly, Karen, and Mary-Beth were joining in, too.  “Grimshaw leaves us alone if we’re helping you,” Karen said.

“What?  Don’t want to do the laundry?”

“Not Sean’s laundry,” Mary-Beth grumbled.  “How he gets so much mud on his clothes, I’ll never know.”

Arthur laughed.  “I don’t know half of what that boy gets up to.”

“He ain’t as bad as Bill,” Karen said.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve got a crush,” Mary-Beth teased.

“Do not!  You just think that because you’re always reading those stupid romance stories.  Real life is different!”

Mary-Beth winked at Arthur, and he laughed.  Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if Sean was openly flirting with Karen.  After all, he was full of unearned confidence.

He looked over the elk pelt again.  He didn’t think it would make a good coat, but it could make a few pairs of gloves, maybe some chaps or a hat.  Arthur had made himself a nice scout jacket out of a coyote pelt and ox hide, though Marston kept stealing it.  Apparently Jack liked how soft it was, so Arthur was on the lookout for another coyote and ox to make one for John, but he wanted to make something unique for Isaac.

He looked over his supply again.  Maybe he could do something with the beaver pelts they hunted earlier that year.

“Hi, Uncle Arthur.  You making something?” Jack asked him, wandering up to him.

“Hey there, Jack,” Arthur said.  “I’m going to make something, just not sure what yet.  Does your ma know you’re out here?”

“Jack!” Abigail shouted.

“Something tells me that’s a no,” Arthur said with a slight chuckle.  “He’s over here, Abigail!”

“Oh, thank you!” Abigail said, coming over with Isaac.  “I was talking to Isaac about your hunt for two seconds and he wandered off.”

“He probably got bored or distracted.”

“I told him to stay put.”

“Like I said, he got distracted and forgot.  It happens.  Just breathe, Abigail.”

She did, deep and shaky.  “I’m just tired, I guess.  I feel like I’m watching him constantly.”

“I can watch him,” Isaac offered.

“Are you sure?” Abigail said.  “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s fine.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked, pointing at the pelt.

“It’s an elk pelt,” Isaac said.

“What’s an elk?”

“Sort of like a big deer.  Here, I’ll draw you a picture,” Isaac said, pulling out his journal.  Isaac didn’t draw as much as Arthur did, preferring reading like Hosea and Dutch, but he did pick up Arthur’s talent for it.  With Jack settled with Isaac, Abigail left to get her work done.

“Wow!” Jack said when Isaac was finished.

“And here are the antlers.”  Isaac pulled them out of the bundle.

“They’re huge!”

“Yeah, and so was the elk.”

“What are you gonna do with them?”

“We could hang them up somewhere.  What do you think?”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s find a good spot,” Isaac said, following Jack into camp.  Arthur watched him go fondly.

“Arthur!  Good, you’re here.  Got time for a ride?” Dutch asked.

“Sure,” Arthur said, putting down the pelt and joining Dutch by the horses.  “What’s going on?”

“Just have something I want to show you.  Get your opinion on it.”

Arthur straightened up.  “You find some land?”

“Maybe.  There ain’t nothing on the land just yet, unlike some of the other places we looked at,” Dutch said.  “We’d have complete control over the houses and the barns, but building everything could get expensive.”

“That’s what we were saving for, though,” Arthur said.

“True.  But if we buy the land, I don’t think we will be able to build enough housing by the time the snows come, so we’ll have to stay in camp for the winter.”

They mounted their horses and headed out.  “Have you shown Hosea or Annabelle yet?” Arthur asked.

“Anna went with me the first time.  She’s checking out the nearby town with John right now.”

“The one you told us not to cause trouble in?” Arthur asked.  “You’ve been looking at this one for a while, haven’t you?”

“There’s a lot of land for sale in this area.  They are trying to develop the region, but I figure if we can grab a good amount of it a little far out, we won’t have to deal with neighbors.”

They took their time riding out to the property.  Boadicea was a little tired from hunting, and the Count didn’t mind the slower pace.  They made their way down the hill into the valley, and Dutch pointed out a large section of land.  It spread from a small creek back up a gentle slope covered in grass and wildflowers, plateauing slightly before rising sharply up the mountainside.  All around the creek, Arthur could see elk and deer grazing.  “What do you think?” Dutch asked.

“It’s gorgeous,” Arthur said with a whistle.  “All that would be ours?”

“Yep.  This land isn’t valued as high because you have to go up that road we just came down to get to town, but I think it would be perfect for us.”

“We’ll have to be careful during the winter, then.  We could easily get snowed in.”

“We’ll plan for that.”

“And in the spring when the snows melt, the creek will probably swell.  We’ll need to build out houses and barn up higher.”

“Do you not like it, Arthur?  You’re finding faults awfully fast.”

“I do like it, Dutch.  Just trying to get an idea of what our ranch will look like,” Arthur reassured him.

“Good,” Dutch said.  “Because I like it, too.”

“So, what are we going to buy?  Sheep?  Cows?  Not goats, please.”

“I was thinking cows,” Dutch said.  “What do you have against goats?”

Arthur ducked his head.  “I don’t want to say.”

“Arthur…”

“Goat attacked me once,” he muttered.

Dutch burst into laughter, almost collapsing off the Count.  “Really?”

“Knocked me over in a pasture!”

“It’s settled.  We’re getting a goat.”

“Dutch!”

Over the next few days, Dutch and Hosea made a trips into town to talk to the local bank about the land.  At first, the bankers didn’t even know what plot of land Dutch was talking about, since it was much farther from town than their other properties, so they agreed to take a trip out with Dutch to survey the area and create the paperwork in a few weeks.

“We could have just settled there,” John joked when they told him.  Arthur, John, Hosea, and Dutch were all on a fishing trip together, enjoying some time to themselves down at their future property.

“It’s better this way,” Hosea said.  “If we have the deed from the beginning, we won’t run into any problems later.”

“I guess.”

“What are you going to do on the land, John?” Dutch asked.

“I think I’ll build a little cabin for Abigail and Jack,” he said.  “Nothing too fancy, but it might be nice to have our own space, you know?”

“Oh, I do,” Dutch said.  “I’m thinking we could have a main house with a big kitchen, a place where we can all eat and spend time together.  Maybe a few rooms as well, for those who don’t mind sharing or want company.  We’ll put it right in the center, near the barn.  And then the rest of us can build little houses around the woods.  Arthur, I figure you’ll want a little workshop near your cabin.”

“Of course.  Might be a good idea to keep it a bit farther from the main house, just in case it attracts wild animals.”

“I’ll probably take a room in the main house.  I don’t need a whole cabin just for me,” Hosea said, pulling out his second large salmon of the day.  So far, Arthur hadn’t caught anything, and John and Dutch hadn’t caught anything worth keeping.  “Look at this beauty!  Now if only other folk could pull their weight.”

“You know I ain’t a good fisherman, old man!” Arthur said.

“You would be if you didn’t move that lure so much.”

“I thought you said to keep it moving!”

“Moving gently!  You are supposed to attract the fish, not scare them off.”

“Fine,” Arthur said, reeling in the lure.  “I’m just going to leave the fishing to you, then.”

“Maybe we’ll actually catch something now,” Dutch said, nudging John with his elbow.  They both laughed as Arthur waved them off and sat down on a rock with his journal.  It was only about a year old now, his previous one being filled with pictures and stories of Isaac growing up.  Before his son was born, he usually threw away his old journals, figuring there wasn’t much use in reading over old thoughts.  But after, he slipped the full ones in his trunk, hoping to share them with Isaac one day.

He drew Hosea, Dutch, and John fishing, their new home in the background.  Hosea ended up getting several huge salmon by himself, and they rode back to their camp triumphantly.

“We’re having a feast tonight!” Hosea said.  “Mr. Pearson, let’s get these cooked up!”

“Right away, Mr. Matthews,” he said, grabbing his large cooking pot.

“Where’s Copper?” Arthur asked, looking around the camp.

“He was here somewhere,” Tilly said.  “You know, I’m a bit worried about him.  He hasn’t been eating all that much.”

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur said.  “I’m worried, too.”  He whistled for the dog, looking around his tent and checking with Isaac.

And then…

“Copper!  No!”

He turned towards Pearson’s yell, jaw dropping as Copper raced across the yard, the bundle of fish in his mouth.  He shook them vigorously and spun away from his pursuers.  Dutch lunged for the dog and ended up falling on his face when Copper ducked under his arms and under the wagon, where he began eating his prize.

The camp was speechless, staring at Copper and the mess at Pearson’s table.  Then, they heard laughter.  Hosea was hunched over, wheezing.  Slowly, the rest of the camp started to laugh, too.  Arthur crawled under the wagon, petting Copper as he wagged his tail.  “You enjoying that, boy?” Arthur said.

Copper’s tail thumped on the ground, and he kept eating.

When Copper passed away a week later, they couldn’t help but smile at the memory.  “He certainly kept up his antics until the end,” Susan said.

“I must say, I really liked that dog,” Dutch said.  “Even if he did chew up my favorite pair of boots when you first got him.”

“He was teething!” Arthur said.

They buried Copper under a tree near the farmhouse, where he’d like to lounge since they arrived in the area.  It was a beautiful spot, but already Arthur could feel Copper’s absence.

“He was a good boy,” Hosea said.  “When he wanted to be.”

“I’m going to miss him,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, me too,” Arthur said, wrapping an arm around Isaac’s shoulders.

The entire gang was upset about Copper’s death.  Jack didn’t really understand at first, and it took a few conversations for the news to really sink in.

“That was a tough talk,” John said afterward.

“Yeah, but you got through it,” Arthur said.  “The boy okay?”

“He’s taking it hard,” John said.  “He’s got a lot of questions.”

“Well, let me know if you need any help.”

As it turned out, Jack had a lot of questions about everything.  Death, flowers, horses… he’d ask questions one right after the other.  Abigail was flustered and tired of it all.  “I don’t know!” she snapped every once in a while, and Arthur could see she needed a break.

“What’s going on?” he asked her.

“Can you watch him for a minute?  I just need a bit of time for myself.”

“I can watch him for more than that,” he said with a chuckle.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, seriously,” Arthur said.  “I’ll keep an eye on him this afternoon.  Take a break, maybe spend some time with John.”

“From one child to another,” Abigail groaned.

“Hey, he’s grown up a lot these last few years,” Arthur said.

“You’re right,” she said.  “He’s good with the boy.”

“Oh, I know you love him, Abigail,” he teased.  “Enjoy your day, I’ve got him.”

“He takes a nap in the afternoon.”

“I know.”

“He’ll try to tell you he doesn’t need it, but he gets cranky if he doesn’t get it.”

“I know, Abigail.  Relax, he’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she said.  “Thank you, Arthur.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said.  “Hey, Jack!  How about you and me hang out together?”

“Sure!” Jack said, running over to him.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m good.  Hey, do you know anything about turtles?”

“Uh, not much.”

“Because I saw a turtle down by river yesterday and Mama said it’s shell was it’s home and how does it find a shell?”

“Uh…”

“It’s neat that it can carry it’s home with him, too.  He can sleep wherever he wants.”

“We carry our homes with us, too, you know,” Arthur said.

“But his shell is always on his back!”

“Would you really want to carry a tent around all day?” Arthur asked.

“I guess not,” Jack said.  “But where does the shell come from?”

Arthur understood why Abigail was so desperate for a break.  After a few hours of similar questions and conversations, Arthur said, “I think it’s time for your nap.”

“But I’m not tired,” Jack yawned.

“You sure?”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s take one anyway.  Maybe I need one.”

John and his family were one of the few who got rooms in the house itself.  Susan, Pearson, and somehow Uncle managed to get the others, but it meant that the house was nice and quiet.  Arthur carried Jack up to the second floor and tucked him into bed, despite the boy’s insistence that he didn’t need the nap.  “What if I read you a story?” Arthur said.  “If you think you can stay awake for it.”

“I can!”

Jack was asleep five minutes after Arthur started reading.  Arthur closed the book, taking out his journal and writing a bit.  Soon, he was yawning, too.  He put his feet up, settling in for a nap.

He woke up with a jolt some time later to a loud noise outside.  More shouts followed, but that wasn’t what concerned him the most.

He smelled smoke.

Chapter Text

When Abigail came over and told John that they had a few hours to themselves, they did what any parent of a toddler would do.  They settled themselves under a tree and took a nap.

“So, this is what you use the babysitting for?” Hosea chuckled after John woke up.

“Jack’s newest thing is refusing to go to bed,” John yawned.

“I guess he’s trying to make his own decisions,” Hosea said, giving John a hand up.

“Yeah, that’s one way to look at it.”

“Ah, the joys of parenthood!”  

Hosea handed John a cup of coffee, which he took, grateful.  “So, we moving yet?”

“The bank manager is going over there with us on Friday, so as soon as papers are drawn up and a price is agreed upon, we’ll move.”

“How are we going to build a house and barn by ourselves?”

“I’ve heard that lumber companies nowadays have tools and designs to help out folks like us.  Especially those who don’t want to hire a whole crew.  And how hard could it be, right?”

“Sure, how hard could it be?” John chuckled.  They certainly had the numbers to build a house.  But as he looked over the people in camp, he noticed some movement in the trees.  “Hey, what is that?”

“I don’t know,” Hosea said, turning towards the trees just in time to a few armed men step out.  One lobbed a fire bottle at the house.

“Shit!” John shouted even as the bottle exploded across the side of the house.  The greedy flames latched onto the wood, spreading fast and eating it away.

“We’re being attacked!  Along the treeline!” Hosea shouted back at camp.  Abigail startled awake, trying to get up, but John pushed her back down into cover.

“Jack, where’s Jack?” she asked.

“Arthur will keep him safe.  Just stay down!” John said.  Almost a dozen heavily armed men poured out of the woods, taking up position to aim at the house door.  Planning to pick them off one at a time as they ran out.  But not only was most of the gang outside, but also John and Hosea were able to pull the their attackers’ attention away from the house.

“Everyone!  Take cover!” Dutch shouted, running behind the supply wagon with Annabelle.

“Is everyone out of the house?” Susan asked.

“Mac, Davey, try to flank them,” Dutch ordered, and the brothers ran around the back of the house.  “Bill Javier, take cover behind Arthur’s wagon.  We’ve got this, gentlemen!”

Their attackers were overwhelmed by their quick and deadly defense.  Susan and Karen stayed by those who were unarmed in the group, and even Isaac was firing back.  Soon they were retreating, and the gang was pushing forward.

“Get one of them alive!” Dutch said.  “Find out why they are here!”

John aimed his revolver at one of the fleeing men, firing at his leg and bringing him down.  “Who are you?” he asked.  “Why are you here?”

The man groaned, “We’re after Van der Linde and Matthews.  Their bounties.”

“And how did you track us down?” Hosea asked.

“Followed you over the border from Wyoming.  These are federal bounties,” he said.  “Eight grand for Van der Linde.  Four for you.”

“So, you thought you could just burn our house to the ground and collect on a charred corpse?” Dutch asked, finally joining them now that the rest were on the run.  “Never mind the others who are with us?”

“Other murderers and robbers.  Who cares?”

“I have a son here, you asshole!” John shouted, and Hosea had to drag him back.

“I’ve heard enough of this,” Dutch said, shooting the bounty hunter in the head.  He turned to the rest of the gang gathering around.  “Is everyone alright?  Is everyone accounted for?”

“Where’s Jack?” Abigail asked immediately.  

Hosea began counting heads.  “We’re two short.  Was anyone in the house?”

“Where’s Pa?” Isaac asked.

“Arthur was watching Jack,” John started, the realization coming slow even as he tried to keep it out of his mind.

“Has anyone seen Arthur?” Dutch shouted.

“Last I saw Arthur, he was…”  Tilly let out a gasp, turning to the house.  Wooden beams cracked and crumbled, the fire now engulfing the roof.  “He was taking Jack for his nap!”

“Jack!” Abigail screamed, starting towards the house.  Susan and Annabelle grabbed her.  “No, let go of me!  Jack!”

“He can’t be.  They… no,” John said.  Not his son.  Not his son and his brother.

“Pa?”  Isaac froze, staring at the house.

“The fire started here, your room is on the other side, right?” Hosea asked John.

“Yeah, but the stairs are right there!”

“Come on,” Hosea grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the crowd.  Dutch followed them around the back of the house, near John’s room window.  “Arthur!”

“Arthur!” Dutch shouted up at the room as well, smoke flowing out the open window.  “Arthur, can you hear me?  Dammit, Hosea, why won’t he answer?”

John had seen Arthur with Jack just after Abigail had asked him to watch their son.  Only a few hours ago, and now?  They couldn’t just be gone!  John scanned the area, landing on a small object on the ground.  “What is that?” he asked, rushing over the grab it.

It was Arthur’s wooden leg, cracked down the middle.  John held it up for Dutch and Hosea, before his eyes fell on something near the outhouse.

“Arthur!”

His brother was on the ground, dragging himself away from the burning house with one leg and one arm, the other holding onto something wrapped up in his coat.  Dutch and Hosea reached Arthur first, easing him onto his back.

“Dutch?” Arthur asked, squinting up at him, his pupils uneven.  John’s shoulders slumped in relief when the bundle in Arthur’s arms shifted and a mop of brown hair stuck out.

“Jack!  Are you alright?”  John plucked the boy out of Arthur’s arms, hugging him close.  He fell to his knees, shaking and dizzy but so relieved.

“I’m scared, Pa,” Jack cried.

“Hey, it’s okay.  You’re okay now,” John said.  “How’s Arthur?”

“I think he has a concussion,” Hosea said.  “He must have jumped out the window.”

“Take that boy back to his mother and get Miss Grimshaw, will you?” said Dutch.

He took one last look at Arthur, his face turning green and eyes clenched shut.  They were both alive!  Arthur saved his son, and he knew that Miss Grimshaw could help Arthur.

When John got back to the others, Abigail was still sobbing.  She’d collapsed onto the ground, no longer fighting to get into the house.  Susan and Annabelle were still with her, consoling her, while the others worked to move their remaining supplies and tents away from the fire.

“I got him!  He’s okay, Abigail!”

She looked up, disbelief across her entire face.  John placed Jack in her arms and hugged them both.  “Is he hurt?  How-” she asked.

“Arthur got him out through the window.  He’s okay, just real scared.  Hey Susan, Hosea asked for you to help with Arthur.  I think he hit his head.”

Susan nodded, rushing off.

“How about you two come back to my tent,” Annabelle offered, leading them inside so they could sit down.  “Let’s make sure he’s not hurt.  Can I see him, Abigail?”

“Yeah.”  She loosened her arms, and Jack sat up.

“Hey, Jackie,” Annabelle said.  “Is anything hurting you?”

“No.”

“That’s good.  Can you raise your arms for me?”  Jack did.  “Good job, can you kick your feet?”  Jack did that, too.  “Any of that hurt?”

“My arm, a little.”

“Let me see.”  Annabelle ran her hands lightly over both of Jack’s arms, carefully watching the boy’s reactions.  John held his breath.  “Doesn’t feel like anything is broken.  Probably just bruises.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, that’s just fine,” Annabelle reassured Jack.  “But if anything else starts hurting, you let your ma and pa know, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dutch stuck his head in soon after, asking, “Is Jack alright?”

“Yeah.  How’s Arthur?” John asked.

“Resting for now.  But we’ve got to move.  Those bounty hunters, they’ll be back.  We need a plan.”

“Let’s look over the map,” Annabelle said.  “There has to be some place we can hide for a while.”

“Are you good?” John asked Abigail.  “I want to see Arthur.”

Abigail shifted a dozing Jack closer to her.  “We’re fine.  Thank Arthur for me, will you?”

“Of course.”

Before John could see Arthur, he noticed that Isaac was waiting outside Arthur’s tent, staring down at his hands.  “Hey, kid,” John said, not sure what else to say.  That was the closest they’d come to losing Arthur since, well, the O’Driscolls.

“Hi, John.”

“You alright?”

“John, can I… can I tell you something?” Isaac said.

“Sure, what is it?”

“I think I… killed someone.  One of the men.”

“Oh.”

“And I know I was just defending myself, but…”

“But it still feels like you did something bad,” John finished for him.  “I know how you feel.  Felt it the first time I killed a man.”

“What happened?” Isaac asked.

“I was only eleven,” John said.  “This feller comes up to me, accusing me of taking his pocket watch.  Grabbed my arm, tried to drag me to the sheriff, so I started fighting back, and he aimed a gun at me.  All I had was a rusty revolver, but it did the job.  I shot him, and I just… I thought God himself would come down and take vengeance on me for what I done.  The thing is, I wasn’t even the kid that took his watch.  It was his fault, but it sure didn’t feel that way at the time.”

“What did you do after?” Isaac asked.

“When I realized I wasn’t about to get dragged to Hell for my actions, I ran.  Didn’t even check the body for cash or nothing,” John said.  “The point is… I don’t know.  It ain’t your fault, you were just defending yourself.  But I get why you feel bad right now.”

“How did you feel better?”

“It took time,” John admitted.  “I don’t think I really moved past it until Dutch, Hosea, and your pa saved my life.”

He could still remember the moment when those homesteaders tightened the noose and pulled him up into the tree, and how he had truly believed his sins had finally caught up with him.  Then he fell back to the ground, and there was Dutch, killing the homesteaders and shouting, “Who hangs a young boy?”

It took a few conversations with Hosea, Dutch, and Arthur to really make sense of it all, so he said to Isaac, “Look, you ain’t responsible for their choices.  Those bounty hunters came here to kill us, and you helped stopped them.  Your pa and Hosea and Dutch will tell you the same.”

Isaac nodded, still uncertain.  “I guess I’ll try to see it that way.”

“Good,” John said.  “Now, I’m going to check on your pa.”

Arthur was laying on his side when John entered the tent, a bucket on the ground near the edge of his cot because he’d been throwing up.  Hosea sat on the cot with him, rubbing his back even though Arthur was asleep again, and Susan was checking over Arthur.  

“How’s Jack?” Hosea asked.

“Fine.  How’s Arthur?”

“Concussion, just like we thought,” Hosea said.  “I’ve got to wake him up now, actually.  I wish I could just let him sleep, but I don’t want to risk anything.”  Hosea gently shook Arthur’s shoulder, whispering in his ear until his brother groaned, shifting slightly.  “Come on, Arthur, wake up a little.”

“Ugh, Hosea, stop,” Arthur groaned, trying to shove Hosea away, and the older man chuckled.

“You got to wake up for a minute, maybe drink a little water.”

“Let me sleep.”

“Nope.  Come on, now.”

Finally, Arthur opened his eyes, trying to focus on Hosea’s face.  “What’s going on?”

“Just need you to wake up for a minute, that’s all.  You hit your head.”

“Was I drinking?” Arthur asked.

“No, you weren’t,” Hosea sighed.

“What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Arthur frowned.  “I think I was watching Isaac.  Took him for his nap.”

“Jack, you mean,” Hosea said.

“Right, Jack,” Arthur said carefully.  “Isaac doesn’t need naps.”

“So, you took Jack for his nap.  You remember what happened after?” Hosea prompted.

The frown deepened.  “No?”

“That’s okay, just give it a minute.”

Arthur squinted up at him, then lifted up his arms and checked his hands, and wiggled his toes.  “Good, still there.”

“Arthur?  Do your arms hurt?”

“Naw, it’s just last time you looked at me like that, you’d chopped my leg off.”

Hosea’s sad smile broke, and he laughed as he said, “Don’t worry, you still have all your limbs.”

“Gotta make sure,” Arthur said.  “You’re acting funny.”

“It isn’t coming back, is it?”

“No.”

“Alright,” Hosea said.  “We… were attacked by bounty hunters.”

Arthur tried to sit up.  “What?”

“Calm down, no one was killed!  But they… one of them threw a fire bottle at the house.  You and Jack were inside.”

“Jack-”

“He isn’t hurt,” John quickly said.  “Abigail’s got him.”

“You jumped out the window, at least we think you did,” said Hosea.  “None of us saw it.”

“You saved Jack.  Arthur, I… thank you!  Abigail and I, we can never thank you enough.”

Arthur was still confused, squeezing his eyes shut.  “I think… I remember there was smoke, but… it ain’t all there.”

“That’s okay.  You hit your head pretty hard, don’t try to force yourself into remembering,” Hosea said.  Arthur was still struggling, but Hosea kept a hand on his shoulder.  “Why don’t you rest a bit more?  I bet you’ll feel better later.”

“I hope you’re right,” Arthur said, relaxing into his cot.

After Arthur was asleep, Hosea finally left his side.    “I should see Dutch, find out what we’re doing.  We can’t stay here much longer.”

“And we were so close to the ranch,” Susan said.

“I know.  But apparently we didn’t run far enough, or maybe the price on our heads has become too great.  I don’t know.  But for now, we’ve got to find a place to keep our folk safe for a little longer.”

John wondered where they could possibly go anymore.  He’d started with the gang in Illinois, and they’d gone back and forth across the country a few times since then.  Where else could they go?

Jack and Arthur both recovered from the fire, with Abigail fussing over Jack’s bruises and Arthur never remembering what actually happened.  John could tell how much it frustrated Arthur, especially when Dutch showed him what happened to his wooden leg.

“Sorry, Arthur,” he said, holding up the cracked leg.  “As soon as we get settled near a town, we’ll buy you a new one.”

“It lasted a pretty long time,” Arthur said.  They were taking inventory of their supplies and figuring out what to buy.  The gang had to dip into their savings, with a lot of money was going to John, Abigail, and Jack at the moment, since most of their things were destroyed in the fire.  Arthur realized later that he lost his satchel too, which fortunately didn’t have all his possessions in it.  His latest journal was lost, but his older ones were still in the chest in his tent, along with his photographs and his flower.

“We just need to lie low for a little while, then we’ll be fine,” Dutch said.  “I was thinking we could hide up in the mountains, drift from town to town.  Pull one or two small jobs, then keep moving.”

“The mountains, Dutch?” Hosea said.  “It’s going to be winter soon!”

“I know!  But we got enough saved up, and enough folk to help bring in food and money.  We’ll survive!  Hell, we’ll do better than survive.”

“And then where do we go?”

“I guess we could head south,” Dutch said.

“Just not too far south,” Annabelle said.

“You know, we never did cause too much of a problem in New Austin,” Dutch said.  “I wonder if it’s still the lawless land it was ten years ago.”

“I guess we can head that way and find out,” Hosea said.

“Follow the Grizzlies south, see what happens along the way.”

“At the very least, it’s a good place to hide while the law forgets about us and move on.”

“Well for one thing, there’s plenty of land in the desert,” Arthur said.  “What do you think, John?  Raise Jack among the rattlesnakes and the cacti?”

John laughed.  He had his own run-in with a rattlesnake in New Austin, and would have gotten bit if Arthur hadn’t shot the damn thing right in front of his feet.  “It ain’t ideal, but what is?”

“Well, then where do you suggest, son?” Dutch said.

Arthur let out a small chuckle.  “I don’t know, Dutch.  I ain’t the planner, you know that.  Being with family, that’s all I care about.”

John nodded in agreement.  He wanted a home for Abigail and Jack.  Didn’t really matter where.

“We can still look for land along the way,” Hosea said.  “It might be nice, being in the mountains again.”

“I know how much you miss them, Hosea,” Dutch said.  “Now, then, we best get packing!  Load up the wagons, map out our route.”

“We’ll need more food supplies,” Arthur said, grabbing his crutches and getting up.

“You’re not going hunting, are you?” Dutch said.

“I can shoot from Bo, Isaac can collect the meat,” Arthur said.  “He’s strong enough to lift the game.”

“Be careful,” Hosea said.  

“I guess I should take Jack and Abigail shopping,” John said, getting up, too.  “We’re going to need some new clothes.”

“Here,” Arthur said, handing John some money.  “Buy him some toys and books, too.  It’ll help him feel like things are normal.”

“Thanks, Arthur,” John said.  “Can someone watch Jack while Abigail and I shop?”

“I’ll take him,” Annabelle said.  “It’s been a while since I watched him.”

Abigail was reluctant to leave Jack for even a moment, but John convinced her that everything would be fine.  Jack didn’t seem to mind going with Annabelle.  It was nice to feel normal for the first time since the fire, driving their small wagon down to town to shop for clothes.  But it wasn’t normal.  This was supposed to be their town, the one where they did all their shopping, the place where they would sell the livestock that they raised and Arthur’s clothes that he made.  His kid was supposed to go to that school.  A real school, something none of them ever had access to, no matter how much Dutch bemoaned the American education system.  Hosea and Arthur had encouraged it, mostly so that Jack could have friends his own age, something Isaac had been denied.  He or Abigail would pick him up after school and take him back to the ranch, their ranch.  And now it was just gone.  Torn away from them at the last second.

Abigail must have been feeling the same as he did, because she asked, “Will we be alright?”

“I don’t know,” John said.  But he still had Jack, and he still had Arthur.  For now, that was enough.  They could figure out the rest later.

Chapter Text

They followed the Grizzlies south as far as their supplies allowed, always sending scouts ahead, peering over the shoulder behind to make sure they weren’t being followed.

Arthur felt safe, well safer, as more time passed since Montana.  As the snows moved in and slowed their progress, Dutch liked to boast that they’d left any tailing bounty hunters long behind and they had to be the only fools up there.  But eventually, they needed to return to town, if the one general store, one post office, and one sheriff’s office along the foothills of the mountains could be called that.

“Well, at least that poster isn’t for any of us,” Hosea said as they passed the bounty board.  There was only one listed for robbery and horse theft, and it wasn’t likely to catch anyone.  The picture was half-scribbled of a man with dark skin and long hair.  More detail had been given to the pocket watch he’d supposedly stolen, for which the owner was offering a handsome reward.  ”This could be easy money if the thief still has it.”

“If I were the thief, I would have sold it to a fence somewhere,” said Arthur.

“I suppose the owner is hoping the thief kept it,” Dutch said, hopping off the Count and grabbing the poster.  “Perhaps we should send someone out to look for this feller.  It has the possibility of two rewards.  Maybe Mac.  And Javier is rather good at tracking.”

“Would be decent money,” Arthur said.

“You after that bounty?” a man in a suit, looking out of place in the small mountain town, asked.

“Maybe,” Dutch said.

“Make sure you keep an eye out for that watch.  It’s a family heirloom!  Daddy will be most cross if I lose it!  I hope they hang that thief.  I almost didn’t see him, you know.  He almost got away with it, but I looked up and I saw him riding out of town.  So I shot at him, but he galloped off.”

“You sure you didn’t just drop the watch?” Hosea asked with false kindness.

After the man huffed and walked off, Arthur laughed, “Ten years ago, I would have robbed him, too.”

Hosea nodded and said, “We weren’t planning to stick around long anyway.”

“I suppose not,” Dutch said.

“Shall we move on?” Hosea asked, and they both agreed.  “I don’t think you’ll be able to find a wooden leg here.”

“Nope,” Arthur agreed.  “Not when there ain’t even a doctor.”

“You looking for a doctor?” a man outside the store said.  “There’s one off the mountain in Cody.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hosea said.

“We’re not going to detour to Cody, are we?” Arthur asked.  “It really ain’t necessary.”

“It kind of is,” Dutch said.  “I know you and Isaac are doing a fine job hunting right now, but it would be much easier for you-”

“I’m fine, Dutch.”

“There is nothing wrong with swinging by and seeing if there’s someone and how long it would take.”

“What if there’s bounty hunters there?  We’re too close to Montana still, it just… makes me nervous, Dutch.  I think we should keep moving.”

Dutch sighed, leaning over to pat Arthur on the shoulder.  “Okay, son.  I understand.  Shall we buy our supplies and get back to camp?

“Probably a good idea,” Hosea said.

“You stay up there, Arthur,” Dutch said, and Arthur laughed, patting Boadicea on the neck.

“Don’t know why you brought me along,” he said back.

“To watch out for trouble,” Hosea said.  “And I figured you were bored!”

Arthur stayed on Boadicea, drawing the small town.  It was true that he was getting bored in camp.  Yes, he still went out hunting with his son, but once he was back in camp, everyone tried there best to make sure Arthur wasn’t inconvenienced with work.  What he wouldn’t give to just get his own damn coffee.  He could move on one crutch and hold coffee in the other hand.  But try telling Dutch or Hosea that.

He knew they felt guilty.  Those bounty hunters were after them, well the whole gang, but Dutch and Hosea had the highest bounties.  They were the same around John and Abigail, always offering to buy new items whenever they realized they had lost something else they needed to the fire.

“Okay, we’re all set,” Dutch said, putting their shopping items in their saddlebags.

“We should get going.  I don’t like the look of those clouds.”  Hosea pointed out a dark, threatening line of storms headed there way.

“Should we try to get a room?” Dutch suggested.

“Not sure if this town has rooms,” Arthur said.

“I think we can make it back to camp,” Hosea said.

Unfortunately, Hosea was a little too optimistic.  Soon, the snow was almost upon them, with a few flurries making their way onto the path.  “Maybe we should make camp,” Arthur said.  “I can shoot us some rabbits for dinner real quick.”

“Let me,” Hosea said.  “Don’t want any shotgun incidents, do we?”

“That was like fifteen years ago!”

“Let me collect some firewood,” Dutch said.

“So, what am I supposed to do?”

“Just relax, Arthur.”

Arthur huffed, but let them do as they wanted.  He fed the horses and pulled off their tents and bedrolls, but setting up a tent while maneuvering on his crutch was a slow process and Dutch dropped all the wood to help him once he got back.

“How about we write to that guy in Denver,” Dutch offered.  “We should be going through that way anyway.  And he did good work on your first leg.”

“As long as we can get in there without the law finding out,” Arthur said.

“I think Colorado is far enough that we’ll be fine.”

Arthur started building the fire while Dutch finished with the tents, and soon they heard footsteps coming their way.  “Hosea must have gotten lucky,” Arthur said, but the man and horse that stepped out were not Hosea and Silver Dollar.

It was the man from the bounty poster, leading an Appaloosa mare.  He had a long scar running up his right cheek starting at his jaw, and watched them warily, almost weighing the risk of talking to them.  Dutch and Arthur exchanged a glance before Dutch carefully said, “Hello.”

“I don’t mean to bother you, but do you have any bandages.  I can pay,” the man said.

Arthur then noticed the tear in the man’s shirt sleeve and the way he tried to hide a slight swaying.

“We do have bandages, and medicine,” Dutch said.  “Why don’t you sit down, friend?”

“I just need the bandages,” he continued.

“So, did you get that scratch from bounty hunters, or that foolish fop whose watch you stole?”

The man’s hand twitched towards his sawed-off shotgun.

“I mean you no harm, friend,” Dutch said.  “I have no qualms with taking from rich idiots like him.  Besides, there’s a storm coming, and my friend here can sew, if that wound needs stitching.”

The man stayed silent for a moment, and seemed to be leaning towards taking the risk and joining them, when he tensed and turned.  Hosea stepped out of the woods, dead rabbit in one hand and his revolver in the other.  “Any trouble, Dutch?” Hosea asked.

“None at all, Hosea,” Dutch said, standing up and keeping his hands visible.  “Just someone looking for some bandages, no trouble at all.  What’s your name, friend?”

“Charles Smith.”

“Mr. Smith, I promise that no one at this camp is going to harm you or turn you into the law.  In fact, we ain’t moving until this storm is over, so please, sit down.  Let us help you out.”

Charles hesitated, and then sat down at the fire.  Arthur pulled a roll of bandages out of his satchel and shuffled over to him.  “I can do that,” Charles said, reaching out for the bandages.

“Nonsense,” Hosea said.  “It’s always harder to take care of your own injury, especially on your arm.  Roll up your sleeve.”

Arthur smiled when Hosea’s no-nonsense attitude caused Charles to roll up his sleeve as he was told.  He still watched them carefully as Hosea cleaned out the scratch and asked Arthur, “I don’t think this needs stitches, do you?”

“Should be fine with just a bandage,” Arthur said.  “You got lucky.”

“How about I set up your tent?” Dutch asked.

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“My horse doesn’t like strangers,” Charles explained.

Hosea laughed at that and said, “I know you want to appear useful, Dutch, but maybe don’t get kicked in the face today.”

“What did you do with the watch?” Arthur asked.

“Sold it to someone who didn’t ask too many questions,” Charles said.

“Where are you from?” Dutch asked.

“I don’t really have a home.  I moved around most of my life.”

“And did you steal many watches during that time?”

“I…” Charles said.  “Why?”

“Perhaps you’ve heard of me.  Dutch van der Linde.  It’s hard to judge a man for thievery when we’re just as guilty of it.”

“You’re the gang of bank robbers.”

“Trains and stagecoaches, too,” Dutch said.

“I think what Dutch is trying to say is that if you don’t turn us in, we won’t turn you in,” Hosea said.  “Now, this is going to sting.”

Charles hissed when the alcohol hit the open wound, but didn’t flinch away.  Once Hosea finished bandaging his arm, Charles said, “Thank you.  I’ll be on my way.”

“Sit down, son,” Dutch said.  “The snow has only gotten worse, and you are in no danger here, I promise!  Have some food and get some rest.”

Charles looked out at the snow, then said, “Alright.”

“Have you ever run with a gang, Mr. Smith?” Dutch asked, sending a wink to Hosea and Arthur.  He knew Dutch was thinking about it, and Arthur suspected the question was coming since Charles asked to buy bandages from them instead of trying to rob them.

“I did, a few times, but it didn’t work out.  I work better alone.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right people,” Hosea said.  He took a bite of food, then suddenly started coughing.

“You okay?” Arthur asked.

“I’m fine.  I think it’s just the cold,” Hosea said.

“As long as you’re sure.”

Next to Hosea, Charles was beginning to blink heavily.  “I think you should rest,” Hosea told him.  “Go ahead, use that tent on the end.”

“I can set up my own-” Charles started to say, but Dutch shook his head.

“You need rest, son.  We’ve got plenty of room in the other two tents.”

“Who gets to snuggle with who?” Hosea asked, nudging Dutch.

“I’ll leave you boys to it,” Arthur said, snagging one of the tents to himself.  He looked over to Charles across the way, laying down but stubbornly keeping his eyes open.  Arthur settled down into his bedroll with a sigh.  Hopefully Charles could relax and get some sleep, too.

Arthur yawned and stretched when he woke up the next morning, looking around the camp.  Charles had settled into his tent last night, so Arthur stole Hosea’s.  He looked over at Charles, happy to see that the man was fast asleep.

“Morning, Bo,” he said to his horse.  She’d settled next to Charles’ Appaloosa during the night, and the two horses seemed to get along well, even if the Appaloosa stepped away from him when he started brushing Boadicea down.  “Hey, girl, want a carrot?”

He held a carrot out to the Appaloosa, and after holding him in a judgmental stare for a few seconds, she took the offered food.  “There you go.  And one for Bo, of course.”

Soon, the Appaloosa was sniffing his satchel and looking for more.  Arthur chuckled as he gave her more food, using the opportunity to get a bit closer and start brushing her down, too.  The Appaloosa relaxed, and even started getting playful, grabbing his hat just as he heard Charles jolt awake in his tent.

“Now, girl, give my hat back,” Arthur said with a laugh.

Charles cautiously exited the tent as Arthur tried to snatch his brown gambler hat away from the Appaloosa.  She snorted, tossing her head.  “You like my hat, don’t you?” Arthur asked her.  “My son gave me that, and I don’t think he’d be too happy if you chewed it up.  Will you trade for a carrot?”

The horse took the offered carrot, then turned her head to Charles as he emerged from the tent.  “She normally doesn’t like strangers,” Charles said.

Arthur turned around, giving him a wave.  “We came to an understanding.  A little bribery always works.  What’s her name?”

“Taima.”

“Mine’s Boadicea,” Arthur said, pointing at his Thoroughbred mare.  “You doing better?”

“It doesn’t hurt as much.  Thank you,” Charles said.

“There he is!” Dutch said, exiting his tent with Hosea.  “How are you, son?”

“Better.”

“Good!  Now, there is something Hosea and I have been wanting to ask, and I think Arthur as well.  How would you like to join our gang?”

Charles hesitated, but Dutch understood his uncertainty.  “We ain’t your normal robbers and thieves.  We only rob those who deserve it.  Rich idiots like that man you robbed yesterday.  Folk who made their fortune by withholding decent wages.  Those who steal from the good people of society.  And not all of our number are outlaws, either.  Arthur brings in honest money for us.  We’ve got a cook, a reverend… it’s a family.  One that’s grown a lot in the last few years.”

“I don’t know-”

“We think you would fit in well with us,” Hosea added.  “You can join us for a job or two, see how you like it.”

“Alright,” Charles finally said.  “For a job or two.”

“Good,” Dutch said.  “We’ll be happy to have you.  Shall we head back to our camp?”

Over the next few weeks, Arthur got to know Charles a little.  Charles didn’t talk to the others much, which was awkward for the others who were curious about the newcomer.  But Arthur didn’t mind the quiet, and soon Charles started sitting near him to craft arrows or improve his bow when Arthur was sewing clothes or drawing in his journal.  He was also an expert hunter and tracker, and Arthur invited him to join on him and Isaac on a hunt.  But Charles liked hunting silently with his bow while Arthur and Isaac always used guns.  “You may get one deer, but you scare off the rest of the herd.  Could take days to track down another,” Charles explained.

Isaac snickered, and Arthur sent him a glare before he said, “Hey, I think I’m doing alright!  Isaac and I got all these pelts!”

“You could get more if you tracked and killed silently.”

“Well, I tried a bow once, but never really got the hang of it.”

“I could teach you,” Charles offered.

“I don’t know, kind of hard to teach an old dog new tricks, you know?” Arthur said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can I try?” Isaac asked.

“Sure,” Charles said.

“Traitor,” Arthur whispered jokingly in Isaac’s ear, and his son elbowed him in the stomach before running after Charles.

Arthur did join them for the lesson, impressed with how Charles patiently corrected Isaac’s stance and aim before letting him fire the arrows at their hay bale target.  “See?  Easy,” Charles said when Isaac hit the target three times in a row.  “I bet you could learn, Arthur.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try, when I’ve got two legs again,” Arthur chuckled.

“What happened?  If you don’t mind me asking,” Charles said.

“To the real leg or the false one?” Arthur said.  “The short story is that it got half-blown off by a shotgun, and a doctor took care of the rest.  The false one broke about a month ago because I jumped out a window, though I don’t remember doing it.”

“How long ago did you lose it?”

“Been ten years now.  Just don’t tell Sean, alright?  He’s been trying to guess it for years.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Charles said.  “I prefer to not talk to Sean.”

“Can I go with Charles on a hunt, Pa?” Isaac asked.

“What, I’m not invited?”

“You can come.  We can use your horse to carry extra game,” Charles said, the side of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Reduced to being transportation,” Arthur laughed back, but he still joined them.

As they journeyed down the Grizzlies, the gang continued to gain new members.  The first was Lenny Summers.  When Dutch and Annabelle came across the young black man, he’d been on the run from a murder charge for nearly four years.  After talking with Lenny at the saloon, Dutch invited him back to the gang.

“I think he wants a new, intelligent mind to mold,” Annabelle told Arthur after talking with Lenny for a bit.

“Yeah, we’ve been lacking young, intelligent minds recently,” Arthur joked, watching Sean and John enter into a drunk knife throwing contest.

Lenny wasn’t just smart and well-read.  His skills on robberies made up for his lack of experience.  Dutch sent Annabelle, Lenny, and John out to rob a banking coach, and it was a successful job.  They came back a few hours later with their spirits high and several gold bars, cementing Lenny’s place in the gang.

The next was Jenny Kirk, who they found abandoned on the side of the road.  She’d worked as a nanny for a rich family, but when the coach broke down and couldn’t be fixed, the family took the horses and left her there.  Dutch and Hosea gave her some food and offered to escort her to the nearest town, but once they left the mountains and got to town, Jenny decided to stay with them.

As they approached Denver, Charles, Isaac, and Arthur were riding out almost daily to get meat and pelts, and Arthur was itching to get a new leg.  He was tired of sitting on his horse while Charles and Isaac got to do all the fun.  Still, it was worthwhile.  He liked riding with Charles, and was constantly impressed with his knowledge, strength, and patience.  Plus, he was good with Isaac, teaching his son more about tracking and hunting than Arthur had ever picked up.

“Just think, soon you’ll be able to join us,” Charles said as they rode back into camp.

“Very funny,” Arthur said, getting off Boadicea.  It took him a second to realize the camp was in a frenzy.  “What the hell?”

“Arthur,” Dutch said.  “I’m afraid we need to get out of the area.  I may have caused some trouble at a bar earlier.”

“What sort of trouble?” Arthur groaned.

“I tried to find us a fence for those gold bars, didn’t go so well, I’m afraid.  We are going to keep heading south, but I did meet-”

“Who’s the cripple, Dutch?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the newcomer.  He had blond hair and a horseshoe mustache, and looked down on Arthur as if Arthur were the unwelcome stranger.  Dutch simply said, “Micah, this is Arthur Morgan and his son, Isaac.  Arthur is one of the gang’s founding members.  Arthur, meet Micah Bell.  He saved my life when that fence tried to shoot me.”

“You couldn’t save your own life?” Arthur asked Dutch.

“I guess I was just in the right place at the right time,” Micah said.

“Well, you ain’t there now.”

“I invited Mr. Bell back here,” Dutch said.  “I believe he could be an asset.  Why don’t you get some food, Micah, while Arthur and I chat?”

“Thank you, Boss,” Micah said, smirking as he walked away.

Once he was out of earshot, Arthur said, “I don’t like him.”

“Give him a chance, Arthur,” Dutch said.  “I know he’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s run on his own for a while and is still figuring out his place in a group.”

“Same with Lenny and Charles, but they weren’t assholes about it,” Hosea said, joining them.

“I don’t like the feeling I get from him,” Annabelle added.

“Just give him a chance, please?” Dutch said.  “He really did save my life.”

“You could have just given him some money,” Hosea grumbled.

“Just for a bit.  See how he does on jobs.”

Hosea sighed.  “Fine!  But if he fucks up, he’s your responsibility.”

“Fine,” Dutch said.  “Now Arthur, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can stick around Denver to get your wooden leg, but maybe we can get one in Blackwater.  I’ve heard that town has grown a lot in the last few years, and I think there might be opportunity for us.”

Chapter Text

By the time the gang arrived in Blackwater, Arthur was about ready to stick his knife in Micah and sew him into a pelt.  Then maybe the fool would be of some use.

It was bad enough that Micah preferred picking fights in camp to chores, but he was especially cruel towards Charles and Lenny.  At first, Arthur thought he was trying to assert dominance over the newer members of the gang, which went spectacularly wrong when Charles threw Micah into the dirt like an empty can of beans.  But then he saw Micah hassling Tilly, and then the look on Micah’s face when Annabelle put a stop to it, and he realized.

“He’s a problem,” Annabelle told Dutch.

“He’ll learn, Anna,” Dutch reassured her.  “He’s got some… outdated notions, but he’ll soon realize that he can’t be disrespecting folk.”

“Disrespect is not all I’m worried about.”

“Mr. Bell is not going to hurt you or anyone in this gang.  I promise.”

“You sure about that?” Annabelle said.  “Because just yesterday I caught him trying to tell Jenny Kirk that she had to sleep with him because he’s part of the gang.”

Dutch sighed.  “I told him that the girls weren’t here for that.”

“Well, he didn’t listen.  And Karen, Mary-Beth, and Abigail had to chase him off for the same thing, but they’ve been around long enough to know how the gang works.  Jenny hasn’t, and he tried to take advantage of that!”

“I’ll speak to Micah, I promise,” Dutch said.

“I’d prefer if you got rid of him.”

“Listen, let’s see if we can find some work in Blackwater.  Bring Micah in on it, see if he improves.  Then we’ll talk after, okay?”

“Fine,” Annabelle said, wandering over to Arthur, who definitely hadn’t hidden his eavesdropping as well as he thought.  “I may need a favor.”

“You need to wait until I’ve got two legs again, Anna.  Hard to bury a man with one.”

“I can dig,” she said.  “But maybe we should let Micah’s work on a job speak for itself.  I have a feeling he’s exaggerating his skills.”

“Hosea and I are heading into town soon to see if we can find a doctor, so we can poke around for some work.  I’m going to swing by the stables, too.  See if they got anything good.  For Isaac.”

“He’s finally getting his horse,” Annabelle said.  “I can tell he’s looking forward to it.”

“I was going to buy him one back in Montana, but… well, you know.”

“I do.  I hope you can find a horse and someone in town for you.  I know you’ve been missing your normal hunting routine.  And you have to learn bow hunting from Charles.”

“Apparently,” Arthur laughed.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” Annabelle said.

It was true.  Arthur spent most of his time with Charles those days.  If they weren’t out tracking game, they could sit next to each other, either comfortably quiet or sharing stories about their hunts and travels.  Charles worked hard around camp, doted on his horse, and treated everyone except Micah with respect.  “I like Charles.  He’s a good man.”

“He is.”

“Real good with Isaac, too.”

“I’m sure Charles would make a good father,” Annabelle said.

Arthur chuckled and said, “Yeah, probably.”

She winked at him.

“What was that about?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do,” she said.

Arthur rolled his eyes, still having no clue what she was going on about.  But Hosea was coming over to take him into town, so he put it aside for the moment.  “You ready, old man?”

“Who are you calling old?” Hosea said with a slight cough.

“Hey, Isaac, let’s get going,” Arthur called into camp.  Isaac said goodbye to Lenny and ran over.  “We’re going to stop at the stable on the way, alright?  It’s about time you got that horse.”

“Really?”

“Of course!  Unless you like Rory and want to keep riding him.”

“I do like Rory, but he is more of a wagon horse,” Isaac said.

“Then, let’s go get you a riding horse.”

They hitched Rory up to the wagon and drove into town.  “This place has really grown since I was last here,” Hosea said.  “Didn’t have cobblestone streets, that’s for sure.”

“Or half these shops, I reckon.  Hey, Isaac, maybe there’s a bookstore here.”

“You could get yourself a new journal, Arthur,” Hosea added.

“Maybe when we’re done.  What do you think about this place, Isaac?”

“It’s different, that’s for sure.”

“And I noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with Lenny.”

“Yeah, he’s fun to hang out with.  Though Dutch has him reading Miller right now.”

“Oh, I’m sure Lenny loves that,” Hosea laughed.

“He called Miller an East Coast academic who’s never had real problems.”

“I’ll have to take Lenny’s word on that, seeing as I didn’t understand Miller when I read it,” Arthur said.  “Didn’t Dutch have you read it, too.”

“He did, but…”

“But what?”

“I… well, I had the book open, but I put hid of Hosea’s books inside and read that instead,” Isaac mumbled.

Hosea doubled over with laughter.  “So that’s why all my crime novels kept disappearing!”

“Didn’t Dutch talk to you about it?” Arthur asked.  “How did he not know?”

“Because I just nodded along to everything he said!”

“That would work!” Hosea said, and Arthur laughed..

“Hey, Pa?” Isaac asked nervously.  “I was thinking it could be fun to share a tent with Lenny.  That okay?”

Arthur blinked, taken aback.  “Uh, let me think about it, okay?”

Isaac nodded, unable to hide his immediate disappointment.  “Okay.”

“It ain’t a no, just… I’m thinking.  Hey, there’s the stables.  Why don’t you check out the horses, and Hosea and I will swing by when we’re done.”

Isaac disappeared into the stables, and Hosea snickered.  “Your kid is growing up.”

“Shut up!”

“It makes sense.  He’s a teenager now, he wants his own space.  Lenny is the first person close to his age we’ve had in, well, ever, and they get along well.”

“I know, I know.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Lenny bunks with Sean,” Arthur said.

“Oh.  I’m sure it will be fine,” Hosea said.  “Isaac has a good head on his shoulders, Lenny, too.  Maybe they’ll keep Sean in line.”

“Not sure that’s worth the risk.”

“Kids have to fly away from nest at some point.”

“It’s going to be weird having my own tent again,” said Arthur.

“Get someone to move in!  Maybe Sean, since you are so worried about him being a bad influence on your son.”

“No!”

“Charles?  You two are getting pretty close.”

“Maybe,” Arthur said, and Hosea smiled.

The doctor was able to help Arthur out, and soon Arthur was up on a table getting measured for a new wooden leg.  “I don’t remember it being like this the first time,” he grumbled as the minutes ticked by and the man still wasn’t done.

“Of course not,” Hosea laughed.  “You fell asleep!  Dutch and I had to carry you back to the wagon.”

“Really?”

“Really.  But you were going through a lot, so we didn’t mind.”

“Alright, that’s all I need,” the doctor said.  “I can have it ready for you in a week.”

“Perfect!” Hosea said, grabbing Arthur’s crutches.  But after he gave them to Arthur, he had a coughing fit.

“You okay?” Arthur asked.

“I can check that cough for you, if you’d like,” the doctor said.

“No, no.  I’m fine,” Hosea said, “Shall we head to the stables, Arthur?”

Though Arthur didn’t believe Hosea, he kept quiet about that.  “Sure, let’s go.”

At the stable, Isaac was still looking over the horses.  They didn’t have many, but there was an Arabian and a Turkoman.  “Oh, no,” he whispered to Hosea.  “They’re expensive.”

“Need a loan?” Hosea joked to him.

“I can afford it, but still,” Arthur said.

“I guess none of us has ever bought a horse before,” Hosea joked.  “You see one you like, Isaac?”

“I don’t know.  The Turkoman is okay, but he seems kind of… mean.”

“Turkomans are strong horses, with strong personalities,” Hosea said.  “But Silver Dollar never let me down.”

“I guess.”

“We can keep looking,” Arthur said.  “There’s a town called Strawberry nearby.  I want you to get a horse you really love.”

“Yeah, maybe I will wait.  Check somewhere else,” Isaac said.  “No rush, right?”

“Right.”

The next day, Isaac was begging Arthur to take him to Strawberry, and Arthur obliged.  “Anyone want to come with?  Check out this tourist town?”

“Sorry, Arthur,” Dutch said.  “Me and some folk are going to see what leads we can dig up in town.  You should join us when we’re done.  Set up your cart.  You haven’t had the chance to do that lately.”

“True.  But we have to find a horse for Isaac so that Rory can go back to pulling the wagon!”

But when they got to Strawberry, Isaac didn’t find anything he wanted.  Which was a real shame, in Arthur’s opinion, because they had some great horses.  There was a Dutch Warmblood and an Andalusian, both strong horses that would be great for hunting.  Though, Arthur had to admit he was interested in the brindle Thoroughbred, even though the racehorse would probably spook easily around any wild animal.  But while he did have a soft spot for Thoroughbreds, Isaac didn’t like her as much.

“I still don’t know,” he said.  “They’re all nice horses.  It’s just weird, trying to pick one like this.”

The horses all munched on their hay, seemingly indifferent to their discussion.  “You want something special,” Arthur said, understanding.

“I just want something like you and Bo.  I love that story of how you saved her.”

“Yeah, she really appreciated me taking her away from that idiot,” Arthur laughed.  “But bonding with a horse takes time.  You kind of just… have to see something you like and take a chance.  Work with them.  Give them tons of treats until they like you.”

Isaac laughed.  “Bribery?”

“Oh, tons of bribery.”  As if to prove her point, Boadicea nudged his satchel for some peppermints.  “So, want to take a chance on any of these horses?”

“No,” Isaac replied, ducking his head a little.

“That’s fine.  We’ll keep looking until you find one you do,” Arthur said, patting Isaac on the shoulder.  “Oh, by the way.  I thought about it, and you can bunk with Lenny.”

By thinking about it, Arthur meant that he cornered Lenny and told him that under no circumstances was he going to get Isaac drunk, pressure him about girls and sex, or let Sean do anything that might get Isaac hurt.  “You may be close in age, but I know you’ve grown up a lot more than Isaac, and he’s still just a kid, got it?”

“Okay, Mr. Morgan,” Lenny said.

“Good,” Arthur said.  “Because I want Isaac to have more young folk to be friends with, not just some old outlaws and his father.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let Sean do anything to him,” Lenny said.

“Oh, I’m sure.  You seem like a good kid.  And Sean is getting this talk next,” Arthur said.  

Arthur didn’t tell Isaac that part, so Isaac just gave a surprised, “Really?”

“Yeah, you deserve your own space.  Just don’t forget to visit every once in a while.”

“We all live in the same camp, Pa,” Isaac said, rolling his eyes at his father.

“Now, how does that feel, sir?”

A week went by, and finally Arthur had his new wooden leg.  The whole experience should have elated him, if Hosea wasn’t still coughing in the corner.  The doctor doing Arthur’s fitting was giving Hosea side glances every time, long after Hosea’s insistence that he didn’t need to get checked out.

Arthur stood up, grasping the table a little as he wobbled.  “Feels okay.  A little unsteady, maybe.”

“Is it not tight enough?” the doctor asked, checking the strap at his thigh.

“I think it’s fine.  Just haven’t done this in six months,” Arthur chuckled.  He took a few steps to find his balance, then nodded.  “I can always come back to adjust it, right?”

“Of course!” the doctor said.

Arthur sat back down on the table.  “Now it’s your turn, Hosea.”

Hosea looked up.  “What?”

“You’re getting looked at.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I said no!”

“If it were me, you would hogtie me and drop me off at the doc’s,” Arthur said, crossing his arms.

“I’m leaving you here,” Hosea said, heading to the door.

“Oh, come on!”

“Arthur-”

“Hosea, you’ve got to see a doc-”

“Stop!” Hosea shouted, throwing up his arms.  “I already did!  And there ain’t nothing that can be done, okay?”

They stared at each other in awkward silence until the doctor cleared his throat and said, “I’ll give you two a moment.”  Once he was gone, Hosea sighed and made his way to the table, even as Arthur avoided his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Arthur asked, his voice strained.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone,” Hosea said.  “It’s my lungs.  Well, the left one anyway.  Some sort of disease, the doctor said, but he couldn’t be sure.  But I think… I know he’s right.”

“When?”

“In Montana,” Hosea admitted.  “I told Dutch, but I asked him to keep it quiet then.  And I guess at the time I thought it might just go away, but I don’t think that will be the case.”

“But what if something can be done?  This doctor could have a medicine.”

“Arthur, I’m okay,” Hosea said, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug.  “This ain’t something that can be cured.  The doctor said I could live for years like this, if I’m lucky, and I always intend on being lucky.  I’ll help our family find our ranch, build it up, spend some time relaxing in my armchair in front of the fire, and then I’ll go.  To be with Bessie.”

Arthur nodded, wiping the building tears from his eyes.

“You okay?” Hosea asked.

“No.  How am I supposed to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” said Hosea.

For some reason, that pulled Arthur out of his sadness for just a second, and he let out a small chuckle between the tears.  “I can’t remember the last time you admitted to not knowing something.”

“Cheeky child.”

“Conman.”

“Time to head home?” Hosea asked.

“Alright.”  Arthur got up carefully, still getting used to having his wooden leg again.  “But this discussion isn’t over, old man.”

“Listen, Arthur, I’m doing all I can to stay healthy.  I’ve been mixing myself tonics to keep me strong and help my breathing.  I want as much time as I can get with you kids.  And I really want that ranch.”

“We’re so close, Hosea.”

“I know.  I wish things could have worked out in Montana, but we’ll make the most of Blackwater and find our way into the desert.  Who knows?  New Austin might be perfect for us.  I know I’ve always held a special love for the mountains, but there is something peaceful about the desert.  Remember when we traveled through there what… ten years ago?”

“Dutch loved it.  He stayed up all night, stargazing with Annabelle.  Tried teaching me and Isaac some of the constellations, too,” Arthur said.  “I guess I should practice working with snakeskin.”

“I’m sure you and Isaac can take trips into West Elizabeth for your usual game,” said Hosea.  “The desert still gets cold in the winter.”

“You’re right.”

“You can take Charles, too.”

Arthur climbed into their wagon, raising an eyebrow at Hosea.  “Why is everyone telling me to hang out with Charles all the time?”

“Oh, Arthur, we’ve all noticed that you like him.”

“Well, yeah!  He’s a good man, a hard worker, really experienced in tracking and hunting.”

“Handsome, too.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Hosea, what are you trying to say?”

Hosea flicked the reins, guiding Rory out of town.  “I haven’t seen you interested in someone in a long time.  I know you’ve been focused on Isaac, as you should, but I suppose I always hoped you’d find someone for yourself.  One day.”

“Charles is a friend,” Arthur said.

“You mean, you ain’t been staring at his muscles?” Hosea teased.

“What?  No!”

“You sure?  Look, I know sex ain’t on your mind like the others, but I think Charles has caught your interest.”

“You are way off, old man.  He’s a friend,” Arthur said.  “I’m about to walk back.”

“Fine!  I’ll drop it,” Hosea said, patting Arthur on the shoulder.  But Arthur couldn’t forget his words.  He didn’t like Charles.  Well, he did, but not like that!  He’d never… the only one was Mary and that was so long ago… but hadn’t Hosea teased him about Mary in the same way back then?  Did Hosea see something he didn’t?

No, he wasn’t going to think about this.  Besides, he’d come to terms a while ago that sex didn’t really matter much to him.  Who knew if Charles even liked men like that, either?  He was perfectly happy having Charles as a friend, nothing more!

Arthur cleared his throat.  “So, any leads in town?”

“Maybe,” Hosea said.  “I met some folk in the saloon that seemed interesting.  They seemed like they were trying to get people to invest in real estate that I don’t think actually exists!  They are selling deeds to folk who are moving out of Saint Denis, mostly in cash.  They have to be keeping it someplace, and it would feel good to rob other crooks for a change.”

“That sounds promising.”

“Want to join me on it?  We haven’t run a scam together in ages.”

“You do know I’m trying to stay honest,” Arthur said.

“And you’ve done rather well over the last ten years, but the way I see it, we’d be doing this town a favor getting rid of them!  And besides,” Hosea continued, slipping into his feeble old man character.  “I just want to build a nice home for my poor son, who’s had a hard time since he lost his leg to one of those machines in the factories up north.”

“Hosea,” Arthur groaned.

“They took everything from him, and the banks won’t talk to either of us!”

“Alright!  Fine, I’ll do it!” Arthur said.  “It might be fun, running a scam with you.”

“I thought so, too,” Hosea said, finally himself again.

When they got back to camp, Dutch looked up from the table where several gang members were standing, probably planning their next heist.  “There they are!” Dutch said.  “How did you get on?”

“One new leg,” Arthur said.  “Glad to be walking again.  What’s going on?”

“Our newest member, Mr. Bell, may have found something for us!” Dutch said.  Arthur groaned internally.  “A huge shipment of cash and gold from the federal reserve is coming to the bank in Blackwater, and on the passenger ferry.  Now, it’s going to take some consideration, the logistics alone of robbing a boat are an issue, but if we can pull this off, we stand to gain tens of thousands of dollars!”

“A passenger ferry?” Hosea said.  “That seems like an odd choice for moving bank money, especially since so many boats come through this port anyway.”

“They are trying to keep it low profile,” Micah said.  “According to my source.”

“And who is this source?” Annabelle asked.

Micah ignored her.  “And what did you find, Morgan?  Or did you just spend money?”

“Screw you, Micah,” Arthur shot back.

“We found a real estate scam,” Hosea jumped in, pushing past Micah to get to Dutch.  “Seems real promising.”

“Excellent work, gentlemen,” said Dutch.  “I knew there would be opportunity in Blackwater.  We’ll investigate both, see what we can uncover.”

“I feel as though one will be more lucrative than the other,” Micah smirked, shoving Arthur’s shoulder as he walked by.  Normally, it wouldn’t have been an issue.  But Arthur was still a little unsteady, and realized a second too late that he was about to fall over because of Micah fucking Bell.

But he didn’t hit the ground.  Strong, muscular arms wrapped around his body and set him back on his feet.  “You alright, Arthur?” Charles asked.

“Yeah, fine,” Arthur said, unable to meet Charles’ eyes.  “I want to punch that bastard.”

“So do I,” Charles said.  “Want to learn how to use a bow later?”

“Sure,” Arthur said.  His face was red with embarrassment.  Embarrassment, and… something else.  His eyes drifted up Charles’ arms to his broad shoulders, then followed his dark hair down his back to his…

Just beyond Charles, Hosea was nudging Annabelle and pointing at Arthur, the two quickly descending into giggles.  Arthur sighed and muttered, “Aw, crap.”

Chapter Text

“Now, pull back on the string.  You can pull it pretty far before it’s too much, and you’ll feel it when it is.”

Arthur did as Charles said.  He’d fired a few arrows, and so far they’d hit the makeshift target that Charles set up, though they certainly weren’t in the center.  “Like this?”

“Hold on, you’re dropping your elbow,” Charles said.

“Oh.”  He adjusted his stance.  “How about now?”

“Close.  Here, may I?”

Arthur tried not to turn bright red when Charles wrapped his arm around his shoulder, guiding his elbow into the right position.  “How does that feel?”

“Uh, better.  I think.”

“Looks better.”

Arthur tried not to think about how Charles’ hand lingered between his shoulder blades as he released the arrow.  But that time it hit almost perfect.  “Huh, how about that?”

“I knew you could do it,” Charles said, giving Arthur a smile.  Arthur glanced down to avoid eye contact.  Now that he was aware of his attraction to Charles, it felt like that was all he could think about.  Half the time he was making excuses to spend time with Charles, and the other half he was trying to stay away so that he could concentrate on work. Of course, now Charles was joining him on that work, hunting pelts to sell or to craft alongside Arthur and Isaac.

As much as Arthur wanted to throw caution to the wind and talk to Charles, Isaac came first, always.  If Arthur got the slightest impression that Charles was at all interested in him, or even interested in men, Arthur would have to talk to Isaac about it.  And that was a whole different conversation.  In all the years since Eliza’s death and Isaac coming to live with him, Arthur had never been in a relationship.  Sure, they’d talked about Mary, and Isaac seemed to understand that Arthur may be interested in someone else one day, but doing so near his kid?  Arthur wasn’t sure he could do it.

Although, Isaac and Charles did get along rather well.  Maybe Isaac wouldn’t mind after all.

“You alright, Arthur?” Charles asked.

Shit, he’d been staring off into space, hadn’t he?  “Just fine.  Just remembered something I gotta do.”

“With Hosea and Dutch?” Charles asked.

“Sure,” Arthur agreed, seeing his excuse to get away for a minute.  “How’d you know?”

“I think they are arguing.”

Arthur turned and sighed as he saw Hosea and Dutch in the middle of yet another discussion.  A discussion that was getting louder by the minute, and was hurting his ears by the time Arthur said his goodbyes to Charles and made it over to them.

“It’s a simply plan, I promise,” Dutch said, pointing at the map again.  “The ferry is set to dock at five in the morning, just as the sun is starting to rise.  We’ll be in boats out on the lake, sneak on before it docks, and grab the money.  I don’t understand why you are so uncertain about this!”

“I told you, Dutch, it don’t feel right,” Hosea said with a sigh.  “Micah heard about this from contact he won’t tell us about.”

“Right.”

“And I heard about it from the cashier at the general store.  And Arthur heard it from the stablehand.”

“So?”

“So that’s three normal fellers who know details of a bank transfer, and a federal reserve transfer at that.  Doesn’t that seem a bit suspicious to you?”

Arthur glanced between Hosea and Dutch.  He had to admit that he sided with Hosea on this one.  “Everyone is talking about it, Dutch,” he said.

“Exactly!” Hosea continued.  “Everyone is talking about it.  You know how many people we used to have to bribe for this kind of information?”

“That just goes to show how confident the government is in this method.  And normally I’d agree, robbing a boat is a whole heap of trouble.  But this is different!  The boats have to slow to navigate the shallows around the Blackwater docks, giving us plenty of time to get on board, get the money, and leave with the crowd!  By the time they realize the money is gone, well, we’ll be halfway to New Austin by then!”

“I doubt that.  You’d be lucky to get back to camp before they realize what happened,” Hosea said.  “Listen, this real estate scam I found, it’s more low profile-”

“Which is why we can do it alongside this ferry job.”

Arthur studied the map for a moment before jumping in.  “What if we send the rest of the camp along to New Austin before we do the job.  That way they won’t immediately suspect us.”

“The plan is to take all our fighters onto this boat, Arthur.  If there’s as much money as Micah says there will be, then we’ll need folks to help carry the gold!”

“Well, if Micah says so,” Arthur huffed.

“Now, I know you two don’t see eye to eye-”

“It ain’t that, Dutch.  Well, it is that, but Micah has only been with us a few months.  How do we know he’s thought this through?”

“He ain’t some young idiot, Arthur,” Dutch said.  “He’s been an outlaw for a long time.”

“An outlaw running by himself,” said Arthur.  “He don’t seem like the type to think about the whole family.  Now, if we send Susan and Pearson with the rest to New Austin-”

“And with all our guns on the job, how will they defend themselves?”

“I think they could handle it,” said Hosea.  “You’ve seen Susan with a shotgun, and the others ain’t exactly helpless.”

Dutch rubbed his chin, considering their words.  “I don’t like splitting up.  You know that.”

“I know,” Hosea said.  “But-”

“But, nothing!” Dutch said, walking off.  “We’re not splitting up!  Now, about this real estate scam you have going on… I think it would be better for us if Arthur was keeping an eye on things in town, so why don’t you take one of the girls along on this?”

Arthur and Hosea exchanged a look.  Sure, Arthur hadn’t been involved in any sort of scam or robbery in over ten years, but why was Dutch insisting on getting involved in Hosea’s job?  Especially when he had his own to worry about?  “The whole idea with bringing Arthur was to have someone unsuspecting who is good with a gun,” Hosea said carefully.  “Just in case.”

“Mary-Beth has some experience with guns,” Dutch said.

“Not much.”

“And she’s a good actress.”

“I’ll think on it,” Hosea said, trying to end the conversation.

“Good.  Now, in the meantime, how about you and I talk locations in New Austin?”

“Later,” Hosea said.  “I want to talk to the girls.  Arthur, want to come with?”

“Sure.”

As soon as they left, Micah swooped in to talk to Dutch, and Hosea continued to grumble.  “Maybe you can take Mary-Beth out for some shooting lessons this week.”

“What about Karen?  Or is Dutch dragging her on this ferry job, too.”

“It seems like everyone is going except you and me.  And Uncle.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.  “Is that man ever going to work?”

“I thought you said he’s helpful talking to customers.”

“Yeah, because talking is all he knows how to do.”

Hosea chuckled.  “We all have our strengths.  Hey, Mary-Beth.  What do you say about running a scam with me?”

“Sure, Mr. Matthews, what is it?”

“Some fellers are selling fake deeds to new folk coming into town.  Thought maybe you could play my daughter.  You in?”

“Of course!” she said, jumping up and dropping the sock she had been darning next to Jenny.  “Am I the young girl dedicated to taking care of my father as he grows old?”

“Who are you calling old, girl?” Hosea teased.  “But yes.  My darling Mary-Beth, so kind hearted, ensuring that I am taken care of as I get up in years.  You see, she never married.”

“But that’s because my true love died in a tragic accident,” she continued, fake sniffles and everything.  Jenny giggled as she watched them.

“What do you think, Jenny?  Convincing?” Hosea asked.

“Reminds me of what I’d do whenever I wanted a day off from work,” she said, before putting on a sad voice, too.  “My dear grandmother has come down with a fever, and I can’t bare it if I didn’t see her one last time.”

“Looks like we’ve got a natural,” Hosea said.  “You want in on this, too?  One daughter to care for me, another that I must find a suitable husband for?”

“Oh, I was going to do the ferry job with Mr. Van der Linde,” she said.

“Really?” Arthur jumped in.  “You ever robbed before?”

“I’ve stolen, sure.”

“But robbed.  Like, held up someone with a gun.”

“No,” she said sheepishly.  “But Mr. Van der Linde says that this will be a quiet robbery.”

“Yeah, quiet is always the goal, but it ain’t the reality,” Arthur said.

“I do have experience with guns,” Jenny said.  “And Mr. Van der Linde was saying that having someone who doesn’t look like a robber with the group will make us seem less conspicuous.”

“That’s good but… maybe talk with Annabelle first.  See if you can get her to take you out on a smaller job, get your feet wet a little before you go after a big bank transfer.”

“Maybe,” Jenny said.  “I’ll think about it, Mr. Morgan.”

“Call me Arthur,” he said before walking away, but once she couldn’t see him anymore, he frowned.  “I don’t think she should be going on that job.”

“Me neither.  I appreciate her ambition, but…”

“Yeah.”

“You did good sending her to Annabelle,” Hosea said.  “She’ll help.”

“If she goes,” Arthur said.  “Now, go rescue Dutch from that idiot.”

“With pleasure,” Hosea said.

With Hosea having found his replacement for the scam in Mary-Beth, Arthur went into Blackwater almost daily with his cart.  Arthur took Rory, so Isaac got to borrow Boadicea to go hunting with Charles.  “You know,” Arthur told Isaac as he handed him Boadicea’s reins, “I heard a story from your Uncle John that the last time you were on Bo by yourself, you were trying to sneak out of camp.”

“What?”

“Oh, don’t you remember?” Arthur teased.  “You were only four years old, I was stuck at the doctor’s on account of my leg.”

Sean perked up at that, hoping to hear some new details to aid in his mission, but Arthur glared at him.

“I don’t remember that,” Isaac said.

“Well, I do!” John jumped in.  “Scared the shit out of me!  I thought I was going to have to chase you down or tell Arthur that you got hurt on my watch.”

“Wait, really?” Isaac said.

“Fortunately for both of us, Bo just wanted to eat grass,” John said.
 
“I think Isaac is strong enough to pull her head up this time,” Arthur said.  “Now, you listen to Charles.”

“I know.”

“Come here,” Arthur said, pulling Isaac into a hug.

“Pa, this is embarrassing!”

“What, too old to hug your father now?”

“Pa!”  Isaac wiggled his way out, mounting Boadicea quickly and turning her out of camp.

“Well, at least she hasn’t bucked him off yet,” John laughed.

“You just wait!  You’ll have a teenager one day, too!”

“Jack won’t be like that, he’s a sweet kid.”

“Oh, that’s how they start out,” Arthur said, continuing to rib John.

“Shut up!”

“Alright, alright.  I’m going into town.”

As Arthur sat on the corner, working on his latest project and staring out into the town, he started to understand why this town would need such a large amount of funds.  An entire block was being dedicated to a new bank and government buildings, and with all the supplies and workers coming in, they certainly needed cash.  There seemed to be a lot of travelers, too, not just from the passenger ferry, but also coming in from the north and west.

Travelers that packed an impressive amount of firearms.  Definitely bounty hunters, but also some government workers, too.  It was odd, to say the least.  And concerning.

“What’s gotten you all sour?  Still mad that your kid is borrowing your horse?” Uncle asked.

“You see those men?”

“Yeah.  Awful lot of those bastards coming through here.  One of them kicked me out of my seat at the saloon the other day!” Uncle said.

“You sure you didn’t fall out of your chair?”

“Very funny.  What’s got you so worried?”

Arthur sighed.  “Just seems like a lot of lawmen in the area just as a big shipment of money is supposed to be showing up.”

“Now, don’t get all whiny and nervous like you always do when the boys are about to pull a big job.”

“What?”

“You always do this.  Worry, worry, worry.  You are going to put yourself in an early grave doing that,” Uncle said.  “Ain’t good for the body, all that stress coming off of you.  Me?  I never worry, that’s why I’m as youthful as I am.”

“You keep telling everyone you got lumbago and can’t work,” Arthur reminded him.  “You are the opposite of youthful.”

“But I ain’t dead!”

“And what a shame that is.”

“Hey!  You’re just mad because deep down, you know I’m right.”

“Sure,” Arthur said, turning back to the soon-to-be glove in his hands.

“Now, watch me sell something to one of those lawmen you are so worried about.”

“Uncle…”

“Excuse me, sir!  You look like you could use some new boots.  Custom-made to order!”

The stern man, probably government with his gray suit jacket, red vest, and matching bowler hat, barely gave Uncle a glance before saying, “No.”

“Oh, come on!” Uncle continued, even though Arthur glared at him to stop, “that looks like a standard issue uniform, can’t be too comfortable, can it?”

The man turned, eying Uncle, Arthur, and the cart.  “You two aren’t from around here, are you?  Lots of travelers in these parts, but this doesn’t seem the type of weather for heavy, fur coats.”

“Came down here for elk in Tall Trees,” Arthur jumped in quickly, before Uncle had a chance to butcher the conversation.  “Can’t go back north until some of that snow melts off the Grizzlies, so we’re trying to make the most of it.”

“Ah, so you aren’t associated with the other travelers coming through here,” the man continued.

“No, sir.”

“I see,” he said, unconvinced.  “Agent Milton, Pinkerton Detective Agency.”

Both Arthur and Uncle stiffened at that.  They’d heard stories about the Pinkertons being hired as government muscles all around the country, but they’d never dealt with them before.  “Didn’t know West Elizabeth had any unions to bust,” Uncle mumbled, just loud enough that Milton heard.

“We’re hired to make sure lands stay civilized,” Milton said.  “And to drag certain areas and people into the civilized world.  You do not seem like the kind of individuals who would understand that.”

“You are right about one thing,” Arthur said.

“You’re inability to adapt will be your own fault,” Milton said, walking away.

Arthur watched him carefully as he left before turning to Uncle and saying, “Gee, thanks, Uncle.  Now we got Pinkertons mad at us.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, maybe next time you see some official standing on a street corner, don’t invite him over for a chat!”  Arthur watched as Milton met up with another man, conversing quietly with him.  There was a glance in Arthur’s direction, and a nod.  “I’ve got to tell Dutch about this.”

“What now?”

“Yes, now!  We shouldn’t be in Blackwater if those fool are around.”

“But if we leave now, won’t we look more suspicious?”

Arthur paused just before he started packing.  “Dammit, I hate when you make sense.”

“Gee, some thanks would be nice.”

They were watched for the rest of the day, but not followed back to camp.  Not that it mattered, really.  Camp was too close to town.  Too exposed.  They should just go to New Austin now, forget Blackwater.  Rob some stages or trains out in the desert and buy a ranch.

“Dutch, there’s a problem with the ferry job,” Arthur said to him, immediate and direct.

“What problem?”

“There’s Pinkertons in town.”

“So?”

“So, they’re probably here to protect the money,” Arthur said.

“If they were protecting the money, shouldn’t they be traveling on the ferry with it?  They are probably just here to ensure transportation in town goes well, which won’t be a problem for this job, since we’ll grab the money on the boat.”

“But Dutch-”

“But nothing!  This is too good of an opportunity for us, son.  With the money from this job, we can buy land!  Have the ranch we always dreamed about.  Have some faith, son, please?”

Arthur swallowed, still unsure.  But he said, “Okay, Dutch.”

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling, so he went to Annabelle and Hosea.  “I’ll talk to him again,” Annabelle said.

“It does seem fishy.  Maybe Mary-Beth and I can move up our meeting with the real estate scammers.  I know Dutch said to do it after the boat job, but given the circumstances, perhaps he’ll reconsider,” Hosea added.

“I just don’t like this.  You know those stories we’ve heard about the Pinkertons.  We got Isaac and Jack with us.”

“We’ll talk to him,” Annabelle reassured Arthur, but he wasn’t sure it would work.  The robbery was in two days.  And two days was not enough time to convince Dutch that he was wrong.

For once, Arthur hoped that Uncle was right about something when he said Arthur worried too much.

But he wasn’t sure if this would be that time.

Chapter Text

The sunlight woke Arthur up on the morning of the ferry robbery.  And that wasn’t right.

Every few days since coming to Blackwater, Arthur had jolted awake to the sound of the ferry horn at five in the morning.  No matter how long they stayed in Blackwater, Arthur was never ready for it, and he’d almost thrown himself out of bed in a panic several times.

He sat up quickly, pulling on pants and his leg before joining Hosea, who was nursing a cup of coffee and anxiously watching the harbor from the cliffs.

“What’s going on?”

“The ferry is late.”

“That’s not right.  It’s never late,” Arthur said.

“Well, today it is.  On an important day, it is.”

“Where’s Dutch?”

“Still down by the water with the others,” Hosea said with a sigh, pointing to the small inlet where they’d stashed the canoes.

“What?” Arthur exclaimed.  “They are still going through with it?”

“Trust me, I went down there and tried to call it off.  Anna is in the boat with him, telling him it don’t feel right, but he just won’t listen!” Hosea said, his coffee almost spilling from his shaking hand.

“Hosea, you okay?”

“I just don’t understand!  They won’t be able to get onto the ferry unseen, they won’t be able to blend with the crowd.  How are they supposed to pull it off?  It almost sounds like… like…”

“You think he’s still rattled from Montana?” Arthur suggested.  It was the only reason he could think of.  “Dutch wants to get us away from the law, so maybe he’s getting desperate.”

“Desperate people make stupid moves,” Hosea reminded him.

“Want me to try to talk him out of it?”

“If Anna can’t get through to him, I don’t think you will.  Maybe… maybe he’s waiting until the boat is in the harbor to make a decision.  Really get a good look at it,” Hosea said thoughtfully.  Arthur nodded along.  He didn’t want to think Dutch was making a rash decision, even if the evidence was starting to point in that direction.

“You don’t think the law is onto us, do you?” Arthur asked.

“You did see a lot of law in town,” Hosea said.  “If they think the shipment is going to get hit, they may have delayed the boat to inspect the passengers.”

“Or put lawmen on the boat,” Arthur grumbled.  “Maybe I should go into town, see how things are.”

“What?  That’s a terrible idea!”

“I told you I ran into that Milton guy,” Arthur said.  “He already suspected I was with a group.  If I don’t set up shop, especially on a day when a bunch of new customers are supposed to arrive, he’ll know for sure something is up.”

“I don’t like it,” Hosea said.

“Neither do I, but what other choice do we have?  It sounds like if Dutch thinks he can hit the boat, they’re going to go for it.  Might as well keep suspicions in town low for as long as possible.”

“Just please be careful,” Hosea said.

“I will.  I’ll take a light load in case I need to leave quick, and keep Isaac and Uncle at home.  I’ll be fine, Hosea, you know I can handle myself.”

“I know,” Hosea said.  “Good luck, son.”

The camp was slowly starting to wake up and pack up camp as Arthur drove Rory towards town, but with so few of the gang left in camp, Arthur knew it would be slow going.  Arthur drove a little faster, before his guilt and need to help forced him to turn around.  But this would be better for Dutch’s group.  If Milton saw him acting normal, then he’d assume the shipment was going to plan.

At least, that’s what Arthur hoped when Milton caught his eye just after setting up in his usual spot on the southern end of town.

“Where’s the old man?” Milton asked.

Arthur thought fast.  “Told me his back hurt too much and couldn’t come in.  I think he’s bullshitting, but this is easier.”

“Not the best worker?”

“Can’t fire family, unfortunately,” Arthur said.  “Now, do you want anything or not?”

“No.  Good day, Mr…”

“Callahan.”

“Ah, yes.  Mr. Callahan,” Milton repeated, before leaving Arthur alone.

A horn blew in the distance.

“Dutch, it’s been over an hour.”

“It will be here.”

“It’s too light out, they’ll see us coming!”

Dutch turned and held Annabelle in an intense stare.  “No, they won’t.  They’ll be tired from traveling all night.  Clearly they got a late start and won’t be on their game today.  All their focus will be on the docks.”

“And that’s another thing, the whole time we’ve been here, the ferry has never-”

“Will you quit doubting, Anna?”  The second after he said it, he felt bad for snapping.  But he quickly brushed it off.  They were so close, and this money from the ferry, if Micah’s estimate of tens and possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars was correct, would be more than enough for them to live comfortably in New Austin for the rest of their lives.  And he knew they could do it, trusted each and every member of his crew.  Even the newest members, Charles, Lenny, and Micah, had proven they were capable, and Jenny Kirk could easily act her part.  But he needed everyone on board.  “If you want to quit now, then leave.”

“I’m not leaving, but-”

A horn blew in the distance.

“There it is!  Gentlemen, and ladies, it’s time to take some money from the fools at the government and find our freedom in the west.  This time next week, we will have a land of our own!  Now, everyone remember the plan?  Mac, Sean, and Karen, you keep watch from the back.  Charles, Lenny, Bill, you keep watch at the front.  John, Davey, and Jenny, mingle with the crowd.  Keep an eye on them and the crew, keep them away from Javier standing guard by the door down to the cargo.  Annabelle, Micah, and I will collect the money.”

They rowed out, calm but swift.  The dawn light reflected harshly on the surface of the lake, just as Dutch had hoped when the ferry showed up late, just like Micah assured him it would.  The man did have good instincts, and surely he’d adjust to being with a group soon.

They pulled silently up to the side of the ferry, throwing ropes onto the lowest deck and climbing up.  All on board, none of them seen.  It was perfect!  The perfect job, the perfect last job.

They split off as told, with Annabelle and Micah following him to the stairs and down to the cargo.  One guard, Dutch almost laughed at the idea of there being only one guard for the fortune inside.  Micah broke his neck.  Behind him, he heard Annabelle ask, “Was that really necessary?”  But then Micah handed him the key, and it was forgotten.

They opened the door and saw gold.

Stacks of it, stacks of cash, too, filling the crates and sacks all along the room.  Micah let out a whistle when he entered the room, but Dutch’s jaw just dropped.  It was more than he hoped for.  More than he dreamed about.

“I don’t even know if we have enough space in our bags,” Dutch said with a laugh.

“Let’s not linger too long,” Micah said, starting to fill his own saddlebags.  Annabelle and Dutch quickly joined him, grabbing as much of it as they could and getting out of the room as another horn sounded and the boat came to a stop near the docks, a tugboat guiding it into place.

Javier was still at the door when they left.  “We good?” he asked Dutch.

“Just fine, son.  How are things up here?”

“Quiet,” Javier replied, signaling to Jenny that they were good and before looking around for John and Davey.

And then, several guns were drawn at once.

“This is the Pinkerton Detective Agency!  Everyone drop your bags and put your hands in the air!”

Dutch froze.  More than half of the passengers who’d been ignoring them up until that point were now drawing weapons, scanning the crowd.  “What the hell?” Micah said.

“Goddammit, try to get to the side,” Dutch said, backing up.  

But it was too late.  One of the guns swung in his direction, and the Pinkertons shouted, “You!  Drop the bags and hands up!”

“What’s going on?” a young woman next to Dutch asked.

He didn’t think.  He just grabbed her and pointed his revolver at her head, using her as a shield between himself and the Pinkertons.  She screamed.  He didn’t flinch.

“Gentlemen, let us go!”

“Let go of the girl and put your hands in the air!”

“You’re making a mistake,” Dutch said, and then a shot rang out, followed by a shout from John.  His finger closed on the trigger, and the girl’s head exploded.

John glanced around, a hand on his holster, trying to spot all the lawmen and bounty hunters that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.  He caught the eye of one, and suddenly they were both aiming their guns.

The lawman, with his gun already drawn, managed to fire first.  The bullet entered John’s arm, midway between his shoulder and elbow.  He staggered, falling back against the railing, but it was low, too low, he was going over the side and into the water!

He didn’t hear Davey yell, didn’t hear the splash, just felt the sheer panic as the water engulfed his head.  They tried to teach him to swim.  Dutch, Hosea, Arthur.  Arthur tried twice, when he was a kid and when Isaac learned.  The second time was better, Arthur was patient, showed John how he could fill his lungs with air and simply float at the surface for minutes at a time, but John’s lungs refused to hold air whenever his body touched the water, and all he did was sink.  Like he was sinking now, his legs and uninjured arm thrashing and pulling and somehow just sending him deeper into the lake.

Then an arm wrapped around his middle, strong, steady.  He came to the surface coughing and sputtering.  “I got you, John, don’t worry,” Davey said, and John’s head fell back onto his shoulder, knowing it was pure luck that Davey got partnered with him.  Davey, one of the few people in the gang who actually knew he couldn’t swim.

But as the water cleared from his ears, he heard more gunshots.  “What’s happening?” he asked.

“Whole damn thing is out of hand,” Davey said.  “We’ll get to shore, try to regroup with the others.  Did you get hit?”

“Yeah, my arm.  I can still shoot, don’t worry.”

At least, he hoped he could still shoot.  The panic of drowning was quickly being replaced with a different kind, as the shooting and shouting and screaming continued on the boat.  Davey pulled him onto the sand at a little inlet near the construction, and they only had seconds before Pinkertons noticed them.

“Over here!  There’s more of them!”

This group of Pinkertons didn’t give them the chance to surrender.  John frantically felt around his holster for his gun, but he must have dropped it on the boat.  Davey still had his, aiming his revolver at the two Pinkertons that broke away from the crowd to get them and pulling the trigger.

But the gun jammed.

Davey had a second to look surprised before he was hit twice in the stomach and collapsed to the ground.

“Shit, no!”

John scrambled to Davey’s side, dragging him behind the meager cover offered on that beach.  Davey groaned, still alive then, but neither of them be that way for long if John couldn’t kill those men.  He grabbed Davey’s revolver, inspecting it.  Some water leaked out of the components, was that the reason?  He shook the bullets out and replaced them with new ones, hoping that would be enough, but his ammo boxes had been submerged too and what if they didn’t work and he had to fight back somehow, he had a knife, but it just wasn’t enough and they were getting closer and he had to do something!

They needed to make a hole, clear enough of the Pinkertons crowding on the docks.  None of them made their way up the ramp, too aware that they would get caught in the choke point and gunned down, but that same ramp kept the gang trapped on the boat.  It was a good trap, and it was going to get them killed.  John and Davey were missing, Javier saying that he saw John fall over the railing.  But then Jenny took a bullet to the chest, and Karen was shouting and putting pressure on the hole while Jenny screamed, and their thoughts were forced back to the situation at hand.

Jenny shouldn’t be on the boat.  She was new and wanted to prove she was willing to do anything, but Annabelle should have told her no.  Even when Dutch excitedly patted her on the shoulder and praised her enthusiasm, she should have told him no.

But she’d told him no, asked him to rethink, begged him to listen so many times over the last few days.  Would he have listened to her about Jenny?

Why did he shoot that girl?

No, she couldn’t think about that right now.

“How are we getting out of here?” Karen asked, voicing the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“If we have to kill them all, that’s what we’ll do,” Micah laughed.  He laughed like this was fun, like this was a game without consequences.

She opened her mouth to yell at him, but Dutch shouted before her, “I’ve got a plan!”  Dutch extracted a stick of dynamite from his jacket pocket.  “We’re going to pair up!  Mac and Sean, you go south and try to lead some away.  Bill, carry Jenny and get her back to camp, quick as you can.  Karen, cover him!  Micah and Javier will go northwest along the road by the church.  Charles and Lenny, see if you can find John and Davey.  Anna and I will take the money, see if we can grab the rest of our savings.”

“I can help with the money, Boss,” Micah said.

“Everyone, do as I say!  Now!”  Dutch lit the dynamite and tossed the dynamite at the docks.  There was a shout of alarm a second before it exploded and several men flew into the water.  “Go!”

She tossed the heavy bags over her shoulder, and they ran.  Shot more Pinkertons.  Ducked into an alley.  The alley where their money was hidden.  They’d chosen to hide it in town this time, given the lack landmarks and the openness of the plains.  Dutch found the spot, a patch of loose bricks on a building that either no one had noticed or no one had cared to report, because this new building was outfitted with the latest plumbing and electricity, leaving a gap between the brick and the indoor plaster.  Dutch had even slapped a poster over the loose bricks, ensuring that no one would notice.

But there was a problem.  They had dropped their savings down into the hole, and it was too deep for them to reach down pull the lockbox out.  They’d need sledgehammers to open up the wall.  Annabelle could see the same wheels turning in Dutch’s head, too, as he felt around the sturdy bricks, like he expected to pull them out by hand.

She shifted the bags of money on her shoulder.  “Dutch, let’s just take what we have and come back-”

And then pain shot through her leg, and she crumpled.

“Anna!”

She didn’t see the bounty hunter fall to the ground from Dutch’s shot, too busy blinking the spots out of her vision and clutching at the hole in her leg, trying to keep the blood from spilling out.

Dutch fell to her side immediately.  “Hey, come on now, Anna, don’t do this to me.  Talk to me, Anna!”

“I think it just hit the muscle,” Annabelle managed to groan.  The bullet hadn’t hit any major blood vessels, that’s for sure.  Otherwise, she’d be bleeding a lot more.  “Don’t know if I can walk.”

Dutch looked at her, then looked at the bags of money.  “Give me a few seconds,” he said, and he began dropping the bags of gold and cash into the hole with their other savings.  Once they were gone, he hastily replaced the bricks and slapped the poster over the damage.  “We’ll come back for it.  Now, let’s get out of here!”

Dutch hauled Annabelle over his shoulder, sprinting back towards camp and leaving their money behind.  In a few days, as the damage from the robbery was being cleaned up, a man would notice the loose bricks behind the poster and scoff at the attempt to cover up the building’s flaws.  A little bit of mortar, and the man walked away, satisfied with his repair job, completely unaware of the fortune he’d sealed inside.

Hosea heard the shooting, and knew immediately it had all gone wrong.

“Everyone, start packing up!  I need horses hitched, wagons loaded!  Keep one clear with medical supplies in case we have injured.  Now move!”

The camp became a flurry of activity.  Tents were torn down and personal items were thrown into chests.  Pearson began shouting about how he didn’t have much food supplies, and why the man hadn’t been gone shopping recently Hosea did not have time to ask.  Instead, he holstered his guns and grabbed Silver Dollar, galloping into town as fast as he could.

Everyone was running from the docks, screaming and shouting and engulfing the lawmen trying to chase down the gang.  A woman tripped over the ends of her fancy dress, crashing into the mud and almost trampled as no one stopped to help her up, an older gentleman was cut down by a bullet, though it was impossible to tell from which side the bullet came.  He looked for Arthur but couldn’t find him or his cart, and as much as he wanted to search, he could see a crowd of lawmen forming near the beach.  Charles and Lenny were heading to help, and he realized that two men were pinned down behind rotted, wooden crates.  Possibly injured or without weapons.

“Hey, over here!” Hosea shouted before ducking behind a more solid bit of construction.  Some lawmen turned, searching for the new threat, and it was just enough for Charles and Lenny to make their move.  Lenny covered Charles as he ran towards the crates.  He almost made it without being seen, but one man noticed and swung his shotgun towards Charles’ head.  Charles grabbed the hot barrel with his hand, shouting out as it burned him but keeping his grip as he forced it up, quickly dispatching the man with his sawed-off.

Finally, they had a short reprieve.  Hosea rushed towards the crates, feeling a jolt of horror when he took in the bloody mess on John’s hands as he tried to keep Davey alive.  “No.”

“Hosea?” John gasped, sounding hurt and exhausted, too.

Once he was able to drag his eyes away from Davey’s stomach, Hosea searched John for injuries.  It was hard to tell, given John’s dark clothing and that they were both soaked.  “Can you walk?” he asked.

“Davey-”

“We’ll help Davey.  Are you hurt?  Can you walk?”

John nodded.  “Got hit in the arm, but I can walk.”

“I think we need to move,” Lenny said nervously, looking at the regrouping lawmen near the town.

“Charles, is your hand alright?” Hosea asked.  “Can you carry Davey?”

“I’ll be fine, just help me get him on my shoulder.”

Hosea knew that Charles’ hand wasn’t as fine as he claimed, but Charles was the only one of them who would be able to run with a man on his back.  Lenny helped haul Davey onto his back while Hosea checked over John’s arm.  “We’ll pull this bullet out at camp.  They’re starting to pack up, so we’ll need to move as soon as everyone is back.”

“He saved my life,” John said, staring at Davey.  “I went over the side, he pulled me out.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Hosea lied.  “Let’s go!”

In hindsight, he should have set up on the north end of town.  But Arthur was trying to distance himself from the gang’s camp, too obvious and visible up on the cliffs.  But he was able to help a little, providing cover to Sean and Mac who were running towards his end of town.

Then, Sean tripped with a shout.  Arthur figured it was just his own clumsiness, and was rolling his eyes at him when the bounty hunter emerged and hit Sean over the head with the his rifle.

Mac turned towards Sean’s shout.  Distracted.  Arthur didn’t get the chance to warn him or help, already focused on dispatching the men converging on Sean.

The first bullet hit Mac’s shoulder, and he staggered.  A second lower on his back.  A third on his leg, and he fell.

“Goddammit!” Arthur shouted.  He rushed out, firing down the street as he made his way to Mac.  Even then, Mac was dragging himself to his feet by the time Arthur reached him and wrapped an arm around him for support.  “You’re going to be fine.”

“Gotta get out of here,” Mac groaned.

“I’ve got my cart.  You can sit in the back and keep them off us, alright?” Arthur said to him.  “Sean, get up!”

Sean’s head rolled on the ground towards the sound.

“Sean, get up and move!”

Sean’s eyes opened and he sat up slightly, though he was groggy.  Arthur deposited Mac into the cart before running back to him.  “I said, get up!” Arthur shouted, yanking Sean to his feet and throwing him into the cart with Mac.

More lawmen were beginning to notice them and head in their direction, blocking their path to camp.  Arthur aimed Rory towards Tall Trees and flicked the reins.  They could try to double back to pick up the gang’s trail later.  For now, the farther away they got from law, the better.

Bill and Karen got back first, carrying Jenny.  She wasn’t moving, but someone said she was still breathing as they dragged her into the medical wagon.  The image stayed in Isaac’s mind as he tore down another tent and shoved it into their supply wagon.

“Where’s Pa?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Tilly said.

Micah and Javier came back next, both uninjured.  They started saddling horses, warning that the lawmen wouldn’t be far behind.  Jack started crying in Susan’s arms.  She was holding him and directing the packing, since Abigail was helping fetch items for Swanson in the medical wagon and Jack kept getting in the way.

“Where’s Pa?  Did he go into town?”

“Keep packing, kid,” Pearson said.

Then Charles ran in, Davey bleeding over his shoulders.  Hosea, John, and Lenny weren’t far behind.  Davey went to the medical wagon, whereas Hosea sat John down on the ground with a bottle of whiskey and some tweezers.

“Do you know where Pa is?” he asked Hosea.

“He’s not back yet?” Hosea said, his face somehow growing more worried than it already was.

Dutch ran in before he could find out more.  Dutch, pale and shaky, carrying Annabelle and already shouting orders.  “We need to move!  Get in the wagons or on the horses.  We’ll cross the river and try to lose them on the other side!”

“Who are we missing?” Susan asked.

“My pa,” Isaac said.

“I haven’t seen Mac or Sean either,” Javier added.

“They’re regrouping!” shouted Lenny, who’d grabbed stayed on the edge of camp as lookout.  “And getting horses!”

“We can’t linger,” Dutch said.  “We need to move out!  Now!”

“No,” Isaac said.

The gang didn’t listen.  They grabbed the last items they could carry, and did as they were told.  Hosea pushed Javier and Bill towards their horses, ordering them to scout the river crossings.  John got on Moose, insisting to anyone who complained that his injury wasn’t bad and he could ride.

“We can’t leave yet!”

Dutch put Annabelle in the medical wagon and climbed into the driver’s seat.  Pearson did the same with the supply wagon, and Susan handed Jack over to Tilly before getting on the third.  They weren’t just leaving him, were they?  They couldn’t!  Boadicea was waiting for his pa, already tacked up, and he went for her.

Hosea grabbed his arm.  “Where are you going?”

“I’m not leaving without Pa!”

“Isaac, we have to go.”

“No!  We’re not leaving him behind!

“Isaac-”

“LET ME GO!”

“Isaac, stop!  Look at me!”  Hosea cupped his hands around Isaac’s face, forcing Isaac’s eyes back on Hosea.  “Listen to me.  Your pa is smart and capable.  He’ll get himself to safety and figure out how to find us, I promise.  But we need to leave, or we’ll all be dead.  Understand?”

Isaac nodded, tears building in his eyes.

“Good.  You can ride Bo if you want, but stay close to the wagons.  If you even think about turning around, I’ll lasso you myself, got it?”

“Yeah,” he sniffled.  Hosea hopped on Silver Dollar, staying next to Boadicea while Isaac got on her.  Isaac hesitated for only a second, still wanting to gallop into town, but then he nudged her over to the wagons.

The wagon train made it out of camp with only minutes to spare, leaving Blackwater and his father behind.

Chapter Text

The wind whipped past his face, searing his skin.  Snowflakes landed in his eyes and blinded him, adding to the liquid already dripping down and freezing on his cheeks.  But Isaac kept digging out the wagon wheels.  Even when Hosea tapped his shoulder, shouting over the wind, “Take a break, son,” he kept digging.  He couldn’t stop.

Stopping meant thinking.  Stopping meant huddling in the other wagon for warmth next to Davey, who was slowly bleeding to death.  And he’d rather freeze while digging out the wagon than freeze while digging Jenny’s grave.  She’d died quickly, not long after they’d diverted their escape route into the Grizzlies, but they hadn’t found the time to bury her until their wagon got stuck in the snowdrift.

Stopping meant remembering that he was up in these mountains while his pa was in Blackwater.

“Son,” Hosea tried again.  “Isaac.”

Isaac shrugged him off yet again, and then Dutch was at their side to say, “Let’s try this again!  Get the horses back on.”

Charles led Boadicea and Ennis over to pull the wagon, a task both racehorses hated.  But after three days in the deep, mountain snow, their wagon horses were getting tired, and they started switching them out.  Now that John, Javier, and Micah were out scouting for shelter, their horses were even more limited.  And since their riders were gone…

Missing, Isaac quickly corrected in his head.  They were just missing.  Hiding out in better weather, looking for horses to steal so they could catch up.  Not dead.

His pa couldn’t be dead.

“Together?” Charles said to him, ready to lead Ennis.  Isaac nodded, tightening his grip on Boadicea’s rope.

“I can do that, Charles,” Dutch said.

“I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t be using that hand,” Dutch insisted, grabbing the rope from him.  “Now, on three!  One, two…”

Isaac and Dutch backed up, encouraging Bo and Ennis to drag the wagon out of the snow.  Ennis protested against Dutch’s hold, but Boadicea behaved for Isaac.  The wagon creaked, groaned, and finally rolled out of the snowdrift.

“Alright, let’s get ready!  We need to keep moving, see if we can find shelter!” Dutch announced, his voice barely cutting through the storm.  “Charles, could you go see if Bill and Lenny are done?  And I swear, if you pick up a shovel…”

Charles could barely bend his fingers around all the bandages, but he still pushed their limits whenever it seemed necessary.  Isaac saw the burn that covered his whole palm and up to his second knuckle.  It was horrible, probably hurt worse that Isaac could imagine, but Charles kept working.

Stopping meant dying.

Charles returned soon with Lenny and Bill, all three quiet, their faces blank.  “We didn’t get to make a marker,” Lenny said.

“We will,” Dutch said.  “We can make something and come back.  You pick a spot you’ll recognize?”

“I think so,” Lenny said.

“We won’t forget her,” Dutch continued.  “We’ll find the spot again.”

As if Lenny could forget.  He was sweet on Jenny, Isaac knew that.  Talked about how he was going to court her once they got out of Blackwater, how he was going to buy her nice things with the money from the robbery.

Isaac wished he could drive the wagon, just for something to do.  Something to focus on that wasn’t the memories.  But Dutch and Hosea took their place on the first wagon, the one with Davey dying in the back, Pearson drove the supplies, and Susan claimed the last.  She pushed him into the back, repeating again and again that he needed to stay out of the snow and get warm, but he didn’t think he’d ever be warm.  Or cold.  He was just numb.

The wagon train halted.  “Who goes there?” Dutch shouted into the snow.

“Javier,” the man said.  “I found a place we can use for shelter.  An old mining town, it’s abandoned, but better than nothing.”

“Come on,” Dutch called back to the rest of them.

Most of the town was crumbling, but a few buildings still offered adequate shelter.  They all headed towards the largest, Hosea taking the lead to ensure no wild animals or squatters were taking shelter there as well, and the rest trickled in once he gave the all clear.  Javier and Bill carried Davey on a stretcher, and Annabelle limped inside on his pa’s crutches.

“Miss Gaskill, get that fire lit, quick,” Susan ordered.  “Miss Jones, bring in whatever blankets we have.  Mr. Pearson, see what we have in terms of food.”

“Davey’s dead,” Abigail announced.  Isaac squeezed his eyes shut.

“There was nothing more you could have done,” said Reverend Swanson.

“What are we going to do?  We need supplies,” Hosea asked, coughing lightly into his sleeve.

“Well, first of all, you are going to stay here and you are going to get yourself warm,” said Dutch.  “Now, I sent John and Micah scouting out ahead.  Javier and I are going to see if we can find one of them.”

Javier glanced out the window.  “The storm is getting worse.”

“Just for a short bit,” Dutch assured him.  “I don’t see what other choice we have.”

Dutch held up his lantern and took in the scared, shivering faces of the gang.  “Listen, all of you, for a moment.  Now we’ve had a bad couple of days.  I loved Davey, Jenny.  Sean, Mac… Arthur.”

Isaac’s breath hitched.  

“They might be okay, we don’t know.  But we lost some folks.  Now, if I could throw myself in the ground in their stead, I’d do it.  Gladly.  But we are going to ride out, and we are going to find some food.  Everybody, we’re safe now.  There ain’t nobody following us through a storm like this one.  And by the time they get here, well, we’re going to be long gone.  We’ve been through worse than this before.”

And if his pa was following them?  Would he ever find them?

“Mr. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp.  We may be here for a few days.  Now, all of you, get yourselves warm!  Stay strong!  Stay with me!  We ain’t done yet!”

With that, Dutch and Javier went back out into the snow, and Miss Grimshaw began directing everyone to set up cots and bring in all their blankets.  Isaac turned to get more supplies from the wagons, but Hosea stopped him.  “Why don’t you help Mary-Beth with that fire?  She seems like she’s struggling.”

He shuffled over to the fireplace where Annabelle and Mary-Beth were trying to light the wood.  “These logs are too big,” Mary-Beth was saying.  “It’s not going to catch unless we can get some kindling.”

“We won’t find anything dry outside,” Annabelle said.  She hesitated, picking up the crutch.  “What if we break this apart?”

“Then how will you-”

“I can get someone to help me, and I don’t think I’ll need them for too much longer,” Annabelle said.  “We need the fire lit, and we should save the furniture for when the logs run out.”

Isaac wanted to protest.  The crutches weren’t hers to burn!  But she was right, and soon they were gathered in front of a roaring fire.  Annabelle lifted the end of her blanket to invite him in.  “It’s going to be alright,” she said.  “We’ll rest, warm up, then figure out what to do.  It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Isaac muttered.

Annabelle tightened her hug around him.  “I know things seem hopeless right now, but we got you.  And we’re going to keep you safe.”

Isaac didn’t quite believe that either.  But a moment later, Charles entered, saying he got all the horses settled into the barn, and Susan was assigning sleeping arrangements.  The boys would take one cabin, the girls would stay in the one they were all in now.  “Isaac, sweetheart, do you want to stay with Hosea, Dutch, and Annabelle in that cabin over there?” she asked him.

“That’s a good idea,” Hosea said before Isaac had the chance to say it wasn’t necessary.  “Come on, let’s get Annabelle over there and check it out.”

Annabelle was out cold for most of the first day after they closed up the hole in her leg and made their escape.  She was still unconscious when Jenny passed, and drove a terrified Dutch to push even further into the mountains to avoid the law.  But she woke up, and it gave them a small spark of hope.

Hosea lifted Annabelle up on one side, and Isaac took the other.  “Come on, let’s get settled in.  Things will be better once this storm blows over and we can figure out where the hell we are.”

“I hope Dutch finds John.  He shouldn’t be out in the snow with his arm.”

“Try telling John that.  Besides, he made a compelling case to Dutch.  Everyone is exhausted, and John wasn’t riding the first two days.”

And they’d all been worried that they would freeze to death.  The more people out looking for shelter, the better.

Annabelle got started lighting the fireplace in their new cabin while Hosea checked out the two rooms.  “Might be a bit cramped, but it’s better to sleep close together right now.  Keep us warm.”  The last words fell off as Hosea went into a coughing fit.

“Hosea, take a break,” Annabelle called out.

“I’m fine.  I should help take inventory of our supplies.”

“Sit down,” she said.  “At least until Dutch gets back.”

“Fine.”

Isaac hoped that his pa was sitting around a fire, too.  Holed up in some cabin somewhere, waiting out the storm so that he could catch up.  But the mountains… that wasn’t the plan.  They were supposed to go to New Austin.  He had to ask.  “How is Pa going to find us?”

“There are a few methods,” Hosea replied.  “Knowing your father, he’s probably sitting outside Armadillo somewhere wondering where we all are.  Once we find somewhere safe, I’ll send a few letters out that way letting him know we got chased out east.  Hell, he might figure that out on his own.  And sometimes, when folk wandered off in the past, we put ads out in the paper.  One of our aliases looking for workers for some vague purpose and give a town for receiving letters.  We found Sean that way once, remember?”

“I guess.”

They settled in for a while.  Isaac was just starting to fall asleep, the exhaustion of the last few days hitting hard and fast, when there was a shout outside.  “Hey, somebody is coming!”  Hosea jumped up, a hand on his gun, but then Lenny said, “Looks like it’s Dutch.  Hey everybody, Dutch is back!”

“Stay here, I’ll make sure everything is alright,” Hosea said, but Isaac was already following him out the door.  “How’d you get on?” Hosea asked.

“Micah found a homestead, but he weren’t the first,” Dutch started, and Isaac felt a pang of disappointment.  He wanted John back, wanted his reassurances that everything would be alright.  John never lied to him.  And Isaac wanted to make sure he was safe, at least.

 “Colm O’Driscoll and his scum, they beat us to it,” Dutch continued.  “We found some of them there, but there is more about apparently, scouting a train.”

That’s the last thing we need right now, Dutch,” Hosea said nervously, with a glance at Isaac.  God, he hoped his pa was holed up somewhere nice and warm and not in the mountains alone near O’Driscolls.

“Well, it is what it is,” Dutch said.  “But we found some supplies, some blankets, a little bit of food, and this poor soul, Mrs. Adler.  Miss Tilly, Miss Karen, would you warm her up, giver her a drink of something?”

Isaac took in the new woman, another victim of O’Driscolls.  She shook under the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, from the cold and from terror.  Her eyes darted around the group like a cornered animal, torn between running and lashing out.  But she followed Tilly and Karen to the cabin, reluctantly accepting help.

“And Mrs. Adler, it’s going to be okay.  You’re safe now,” Dutch continued.  “They turned her into a widow.  Animals.  I need some rest, I haven’t slept in three days.”

“You’re over here, with Isaac and Hosea.  Anna is waiting inside,” Susan said.  “Mr. Bell, you’re with the fellers over there.”

Micah sputtered, “How come the kid gets a room?”

Isaac ignored him, and went back to his cabin.  The roaring fire did little to warm the frigid air, but he supposed it was better than nothing.  He settled into the bed alone, tried to block out Hosea still talking with Dutch by the hearth, and cried.

Arthur wasn’t sitting around a fire.  And he wouldn’t for some time.  Fire would attract the law and bounty hunters, so it was a risk they couldn’t take.  And besides, they had to lose their tail, first.  “Get up, I’m gonna need you to walk,” Arthur said, shaking Sean’s shoulder.

Sean groaned.  The kid had a concussion, he knew, but Mac was still bleeding.  Arthur couldn’t carry both of them.

“Right now, Sean.  Just for a bit, then we’ll rest.”  A lie, but it sort of worked.  Sean pulled himself out of the wagon, swaying once his feet were under him but still upright.  Arthur shoved him into the woods before dragging Mac over his shoulder.  “Go, Rory!” he whispered harshly to the horse, and he felt a pang of guilt when Rory listened.  Arthur bought him for Eliza, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to find him again.  But he was relying on the bounty hunters following the wagon wheels and not their footprints.  Even if only bought them a few minutes, it was a few minutes more than they currently had.

Arthur led the way into Tall Trees.  Sean struggled through his concussion, and Arthur struggled with carrying Mac.  More than once he had to take a second to breathe and lean against a tree, his leg shaking, not used to the distance or the weight.  But after a second, Arthur forced himself to keep moving, until even Sean noticed the problem.

“We should stop, English.”

“Not yet.”

“You can barely walk straight.”

“You only think that because you can’t see straight.”

“Well, maybe I need to stop, then,” Sean said, collapsing against a rock.  His face was completely drained of color, and he was sweating and panting far too much.

“Fine,” Arthur said.  “I should check on Mac.”

Arthur settled Mac on the ground, and had to place his head on Mac’s chest to make sure his friend was still breathing.  He was, shallow and wheezy.  The hastily applied bandages were already soaked in blood.  Mac couldn’t afford to lose any more.

“Hey, Mac, can you wake up for me?” Arthur said, tapping Mac on the cheek.  “Come on, sleeping ain’t a good idea right now.”

Mac let out a small noise, too weak for Arthur to call a cough.

“That’s it, open your eyes, alright?” Arthur continued, still tapping his face.

“Ar… thur?”

“That’s it.  Wake up and keep breathing.”

“Where?”

“Tall Trees.  We’re just taking a breather, then we have to keep moving.”

“Can’t,” Mac groaned.

“Yes, you can.  Just going to fix some of these bandages, and then we’ll keep moving.  I’ll carry you.”

“No.”  Mac’s eyes fell shut again.

“Yes.  Come on, now, don’t give up on me.”  Arthur shook Mac’s shoulder, but Mac’s eyes remained closed.  Then, his stomach heaved, and Arthur quickly turned Mac onto his side before he choked on his own vomit.

And blood.  There was blood mixed in, blood staining his lips as he kept coughing.  Arthur blinked, but the blood was still there, mocking him.

He couldn’t fix this.

“Okay, Mac, just hang on, we’ll rest for a bit, okay?  Sean, can you make us a camp?  No fire, just a bit of shelter.”

“Alright,” Sean said, disappearing into the woods to find large branches.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Mac wheezed.

“Yeah, it’s bad,” Arthur said, settling down next to him.  “I ain’t quite sure what to do.”

“Me, neither.”

“You just try to stay awake.  Let me worry about the rest?”

“You really think… staying awake… is going to change anything?” Mac panted.  “Don’t lie, Morgan.”

Arthur sighed.  “No, I really don’t think it will.”

“Good run, though, right?”

“Yeah, we had one hell of a run,” Arthur said, smiling wide.  “Wish we could have gotten our ranch.”

“Yeah… Hey, when you see Davey… tell him I was doing something heroic, okay?” Mac said.

“Heroic, huh?  You were trying to go back for Sean, weren’t you?” Arthur asked.

“Sure.  Just tell a Hosea story, alright?”

“Alright, I’ll do my best,” Arthur said.

The bushes nearby rustled and swayed, and Arthur tensed.  But it was just Sean coming back with two sturdy branches.  “I think we can make a lean-to out of this,” he said.

“I’ll help you.”

They were able to set everything up before dark, and by then, Mac was starting to shiver.  Arthur wrapped his coat around him, but he knew that wouldn’t change anything.  It was the blood loss.  “How are you feeling?” he asked hesitantly.

“Don’t really feel anything,” Mac said.  “Just cold.”

“Let’s see if we can help that,” Arthur said, lying down next to Mac and pulling him close.  “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.  I got you, Mac.  Don’t you worry about a damn thing.”

Arthur tried staying awake for as long as possible, though it wasn’t easy while lying down.  He strained his ears for footsteps over Mac’s shallow breathing in his ear, forcing his eyes open to look for shadows moving across the trees in the moonlight, but for the first moment since the robbery began that morning, the forest was silent.  He didn’t mean to fall asleep, in case Mac needed him, but deep down he knew it wouldn’t matter.

Mac was dead by sunrise.  Arthur sent Sean to sneak into Manzanita Post and borrow some shovels, and they did their best to give him a proper burial, hasty as it was.  The marker was rough, Mac’s name crooked when it was carved into the wood, but at least it was something to let the world know that a friend was lying there, and that someone had cared for him.

And after, they kept walking.

Chapter Text

Annabelle parked herself next to John’s bedside shortly after Charles and Javier returned with the man.  John was restless and sweating with fever, the bandages over his face slowly becoming stained with blood and pus.  Abigail sat with him at first, fussing over his injuries and trying to figure out just how the man had gotten himself torn apart by wolves, and ignoring John’s attempted explanations.  She was worried, of course.  They all were, and this was just another disaster in a long string of them leading to this old mining town in the Grizzlies.

Annabelle eventually convinced Abigail to leave John for a bit.  Abigail was tired, and Jack was looking for her, having been taken to a different room so as to not see his father’s injuries.  The original bullet wound never got a chance to start healing, either, between the constant running and his new injuries, infection settled into John’s skin.

Besides, there wasn’t much Annabelle could do while her own injuries healed.  She couldn’t walk, chop wood, stand guard duty… nothing.  But she could do this, sit by John’s side and keep him from dying.  Even in his mischievous years, right after Dutch saved his life, she loved him like a son.  Arthur, too.

She hoped that, wherever Arthur was, he was safe.  And warmer than they were.

A cough, then a groan.  John shifted, tightening his grip on her hand.  “Hey, kiddo,” Annabelle said, leaning in closer.  “Just relax, okay?  We’re taking care of you.”

John opened the eye not covered with bandages, even though it was swollen, too.  “Goddamn wolves,” John huffed.

“I guess you taste bad, because they spit you out,” she joked, but it didn’t lighten John’s mood.

“They got Moose,” he said sadly.  “We got lost in the storm and they chased us up the mountain.  He tried to kick them, but he slipped.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was a good horse.  I wish I could have done something, but they all swarmed him and I… I knew it was my chance to get away.”

“It’s okay, honey,” Annabelle said.  “Just relax and get some sleep.”

“Are Abigail and Jack okay?”

“Just fine.  Abigail doesn’t want Jack to see you just yet.”

“It look as bad as it feels?”

“How does it feel?”

“Pretty damn awful,” he groaned.  “Is Arthur here?”

“What?”

“Did he find us?”

Annabelle felt the tears building in her eyes, and she didn’t stop them from falling.  “No, he hasn’t yet.  I’m sure he got himself safe.  Who knows, maybe he went to New Austin and is wondering why we aren’t there?”

“We shouldn’t have left him.”

“I know.”  Annabelle hadn’t known, not until she woke up and saw Isaac riding Boadicea.

“I thought he was in camp,” John said.  “I didn’t think to look for him.  Everyone was running around and getting on horses and I didn’t think to look!”

“John-”

“I should have gone back to Blackwater for him!  But I didn’t, and now I’m just useless.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Annabelle said.  “Don’t.  If we had stayed, we would have been killed.  You have Jack to watch out for.  You did the right thing.”

“Yeah, the right thing.  Getting lost, getting eaten.”

“It’s not-”

“Got Davey killed.  He knew I couldn’t swim.  Jumped in after me.”

“It’s not your fault,” she finally got out.

It was Dutch’s fault, but she wouldn’t say that to John.  No need to burden him now, while he was hurt and struggling.  That would be kept between her and Dutch for the moment, if she could even catch him for a moment alone. When he wasn’t drifting about the camp, checking on everyone, seemingly doing everything while he actually did nothing, he was fighting with Hosea about O’Driscolls and plans.  Like they hadn’t buried two people.  Like they weren’t missing three more.

Like he hadn’t shot that girl.

Her terrified face, frozen when Dutch’s revolver dug into her soft hair.  The image was still printed on her eyes, overlapping with the pool of blood, the one eye dangling, but her hair still fluttering in the breeze.

He didn’t have to shoot her.  He could have pushed her to the side, or not grabbed her at all.  It wouldn’t have made a difference.  Or maybe it did.  Maybe grabbing her made things worse in an already bad situation that she, Hosea, and Arthur all argued against.

Why didn’t he listen?

Why did he shoot her?

The door opened, and Dutch entered, wrapped in his heavy fur coat and covered in snow from the waist down.  “We’ve got to do it, Hosea.  If they come find us-”

“And what makes you think they will?” Hosea asked.  Lenny, Bill, Micah, and Javier all wandered in after him.

“The last thing we need is to get bushwhacked by Colm O’Driscolls, and besides, their camp could have supplies that we need!”

“Or information,” Hosea spat.  “I heard the O’Driscoll at that homestead was talking about a train.  Please tell me you aren’t putting their lives at risk just to pull one over on Colm.  It’s been ten years!  We don’t have time for your revenge.”

“This is the right call, Hosea,” Dutch said.  “And you know Colm’s always got money, and we will need money once we get off these mountains.  Don’t start doubting me now!”

“That’s not what this is, and you know it,” Hosea said.

Annabelle pulled herself up from her seat next to John and said, “Dutch, we can’t afford any more injured.  Or dead, we’ve already lost two, John is hurt, and we’re missing three, including-”

“I know!” Dutch shouted.  “You think I’m not worried about that!  And if we don’t do this?  I learned a long time ago that you hit Colm O’Driscoll.  If you wait, people you love get hurt.”

“This feud needs to be put to rest, I agree,” she said.  “But now is not the time.”

“And when is the time?  You know what he did to Arthur!  You fancy just sitting around and waiting to see if you’re next?”

“No one is going to be next if we keep our heads down,” Hosea said, but Dutch was already storming off, waving to the men to follow.

Why wasn’t he listening?

“I suppose, when the weather breaks, we’ll have to keep heading east,” Hosea said to Pearson over the fire.  His cough was worsening, but not their most concerning problem.  Besides the fight between Hosea, Dutch, and Annabelle earlier, they were running out of food.  Isaac watched as Pearson prepared the last rabbit for the stew pot.  One rabbit, with barely enough meat to satisfy one person, but the idea of heading east scared Isaac more.  It was the opposite direction of his father, who was probably running into New Austin at that very moment.  

“If we don’t starve to death first,” Pearson said.  “When I was in the Navy, we were stranded at sea for fifty days.  Do you know what starvation does to a person?”

“We’re not discussing this,” Hosea said, glancing at Isaac.

“When we ran away from Blackwater, I wasn’t able to get supplies in.”

“Yes, and why is that?” Hosea asked.  “You knew we were going to be leaving for New Austin, so why were you waiting until the last minute to go shopping?”

“I sent Lenny and Bill out hunting and they found nothing,” Pearson said.  Charles, who was outside checking on Taima, looked up and joined them.

“When have you seen either Lenny or Bill go hunting on their own?”

“Enough of this,” Charles said.  “Isaac and I can find something.”

“You sure?” Hosea said, mostly to Isaac.

“Better than sitting around doing nothing,” Isaac said.

“Okay, just… be careful, dress in layers.”

“I know.”

“Hold on,” Pearson said, running over to his table and grabbing a can.  “Here.  You’re going to need something to eat out there.”

“’Assorted, Salted Offal,’” Isaac read.  “Gross.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Charles said.

“Hold on, Charles.  You sure you are alright to hunt?  Your hand-”

“I’ll be fine just tracking game, and Isaac can kill it.”

“Alright, but after that, you are resting,” Hosea said.

“You taking Bo?” Charles asked Isaac.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Good, she’s already waiting for you outside,” Charles said.  “I think she was bored stuck in the barn, causing all sorts of trouble.”

“She misses him,” Isaac said, patting her nose.

“I’m sure.  Let’s head out.”

They nudged the horses into a trot, heading deep into the fresh snow.  Now that the wind slowed and the sky was starting to clear, it was beautiful in a way.  Untouched.

“How are you, Isaac?” Charles asked, breaking the peace.

“Okay, I guess.  Considering, well, everything.  Are you okay?”

“Ah, it’s just a burn.  Hurts now, but it will get better.”

Isaac’s stomach growled.  “You think we’ll find something?”

“There’s meat up here for sure.  Pearson doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  Now that the weather has eased off a bit, they’ll be needing to feed.  Let’s try up this way, find some higher ground.”

“Lead the way,” Isaac said.  “I never did much hunting in the snow before.  Pa usually did a lot before the first snow came, so we’d have salted meat all winter.”

“It’s tricky for sure, depending on the weather,” Charles said.  “But right now, the deer will be hungry.  Animals don’t do well in late storms like this.”

“Yeah, no one does.”  Flurries started to fall now, but Isaac hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as the storm.  “Hey, Charles?  What exactly happened in Blackwater?  With the boat?”

“I’m not really sure,” Charles said.  “It all happened pretty fast.”

“Oh.”

“You know, I understand if you aren’t okay right now,” Charles said, slowing Taima a little to turn and face Isaac.  “I didn’t know Davey or Jenny too well, and it seems like we need to keep pushing, but you can take a moment to grieve.”

“Davey taught me poker,” Isaac said after a moment.  Davey would let him borrow some coins and keep whatever he won.  “He always let me sit with him whenever Pa was out of camp.  I didn’t talk to Jenny much, but Lenny liked her.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles said.  “They didn’t deserve what happened.”

They made their way down to a creek, and finally started to see some grass.  “Are those tracks?” Isaac asked.

“Good eye,” Charles said, dropping his voice to a whisper.  “Looks like deer, that’s good.  Recent, too.  Let’s walk it from here.”

Isaac grabbed his bow, couching down to follow.  Charles let him lead, and he must have been doing something right, because he didn’t get corrected.  Then, Charles went, “Shh, look down there!”

A lone deer drank greedily from the creek.  The rest of the herd had to be close, too.

“Try to hit it in the neck or head,” Charles said.  “Quick and clean.”

“I know.”  He drew back, breathing slow and adjusting his aim before letting go.

The arrow hit the deer in the neck, and Charles let out the breath he’d been holding.  “Good.  Let’s try to get another one.”

Isaac had to track the second one across the river, but he was able to get a clean kill on that one, too.  “I’ll get that one,” he said, stepping quickly across the freezing water to collect the carcass and whistling for Boadicea.

“This should be enough to last us a few days,” Charles said.

“Hey, Charles?”

“Yes, Isaac?”

“My pa, you think he’s okay?” Isaac asked.  Out of all the members of the gang, Charles struck him as one who would be honest.

“I don’t know,” Charles said.  “He wasn’t part of the robbery, so maybe he just found a place to lie low rather than lead the law back to camp.  That’s what I would do.  I’m sure he didn’t expect us to come up here, and with the snow falling like it was, it’s not like he can track us.”

“But you think he’s alive?”

“Yes, I do,” Charles said, confidently.

Isaac breathed in deep. “I know Hosea and Dutch have been saying the same thing, but it’s hard to believe them, you know?  Dutch, he… he didn’t even look for my pa when he got back.  He just told everyone to leave.”

“And you’re angry.”

“Yeah, of course!  It’s like he didn’t care.  And I know he does, but…”

“But in the moment, it felt like he didn’t,” Charles finished for him.  “Dutch… he has a lot of people depending on him.  He tries to treat everyone fair, and with a group like this, it’s hard.  He had to decide if he should risk waiting or move the people he could.  And he certainly didn’t anticipate this storm.  Otherwise, he may have been able to send someone back to look for Arthur.”

“I guess I can’t blame Dutch for the weather,” Isaac joked.

“No, you can’t,” Charles chuckled.  “Though I’m sure if Dutch could control the weather, he would.”

“Don’t know why he’s going after the O’Driscolls though,” Isaac mumbled.

“What is it with the O’Driscolls?” Charles asked suddenly.  “I’ve heard a lot of talk about them.”

“They, uh…” Isaac stammered.  “They don’t like Dutch.  Dutch killed Colm’s brother, so they… they tried to kill my pa.  Almost did.”

“Oh.  That must have been hard.”

“I was real young, so I don’t really remember much of it,” Isaac said.  “We don’t talk about it.”  He didn’t want to talk about it.

“I see,” Charles said, just as Colter appeared, and he let the subject drop.  “Let’s get these over to Pearson.”

Uncle was sitting with Pearson by the fire, his own drink in hand.  “Why, thank you, boys!” Uncle said when Isaac hauled the deer onto the table.  “Someone has to keep us all fed.”

“See you got on just fine,” Pearson said.

“Yeah, it wasn’t too bad,” Isaac said.

“Here, have a drink and warm up,” Pearson said, offering his bottle.

“Uh…”

“Go on, just a sip.  We won’t tell Arthur when he gets here,” Pearson said with a wink.

“What?  Arthur never let you have a sip of whiskey?” Uncle said, astonished.  “You’re practically a man!”

“He’s doing more work than half the men,” Charles said.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk, Mr. Smith,” Uncle said.

Isaac took the offered bottle, gave it a cautionary sniff, then took a swig.  He almost spit it out when it burned his tongue, instead forcing himself to swallow as to not seem weak, and the fire raced down his throat to his stomach.  “Ugh, what the hell?” Isaac said, face scrunched up at the disgusting sensation while Pearson and Uncle laughed.

“It’s Navy rum, my friend!  It’s the only thing, the only thing!  Keeps you sane it does.”

“How?” Isaac asked, smacking his lips to try to get the taste out.

“Here,” Charles said, trading his water canteen for the bottle.  Isaac took a swig and flushed out his mouth, though Charles seemed unaffected by the awful liquor.

And that’s when Micah rode in.  With a man on the back of his horse.

“I got him, boss!” Micah said.  “I got the O’Driscoll.”

Isaac froze.  Why did Dutch bring one back here?

“Well done, Mr. Bell,” Dutch said, before addressing the O’Driscoll.  “Welcome to your new home.  I hope you’re real happy here.”

“I bet I can make him talk, boss,” Micah said.

“Oh, he’ll be talking, but it will all be lies,” Dutch said.  “Why don’t you and Mr. Williamson tie this maggot up someplace safe.  We get him hungry first.  I got a saying, my friend.  We shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feel ‘em as need feeding.  We are going to find out what you need.”  Dutch walked back towards his little cabin, laughing gleefully.  “I can’t believe it!  An O’Driscoll in my camp!”

“I ain’t an O’Driscoll, mister.  I hate that feller!” the O’Driscoll said as Micah and Bill dragged him away.

“Come on,” Charles said, patting Isaac on the shoulder.  “We should get warmed up.”

They settled next to the fire in the main cabin where John was still recovering, sleepily listening to their stories while Hosea looked after him.  Micah and Bill joined them later, and Isaac almost left when Micah began bragging about their victory.  But he didn’t want to brave the cold just yet, and Pearson had just brought in the pot of stew.

“Hey, Hosea?” Lenny asked while they were eating.  “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“What did the O’Driscolls do to Arthur?”

Isaac froze.  He didn’t think Hosea would tell.  Dutch and Hosea never talked about it.  But Hosea sighed and said, “I suppose you all have a right to know, if Dutch is going to be dragging you into this feud.”

“Hosea-” John groaned, trying to sit up, but Hosea pushed him back down.

“John, it’s okay.”  

“But Arthur should tell it.”

“Yes, but… they should know.”  Hosea took a deep breath.  “I know all of you have heard the story about how Dutch killed Colm’s brother.”

The new members nodded.  Even Sadie looked up, curious about the story.

“Well, after that, Colm tried to take revenge by kidnapping Annabelle.  But when they tried to grab her, Arthur sacrificed himself so she could get away.”  Hosea glanced at Isaac.  “They dragged him off, beat him, put a goddamn buckshot in his leg, and then…”

“Ow, Hosea!” John said.  Hosea was squeezing his hand tight.

“Sorry, John,” Hosea said, releasing his grip.  “Anyway, they… uh… after that, they shoved Arthur into a coffin and… buried him alive.”

A spoon dropped and hit the floor.  A few bowls were placed on the ground.  “Jesus, they really did that?” Bill said.

Even Micah was surprised.

“They did,” Hosea said.  “We found in time, thankfully, and as far as we are aware, Colm thinks he’s dead.  We’ve always tried to keep it that way.  But this feud has to end one day.”

“Is that how Arthur lost his leg?” Lenny asked quietly.

“Yes.  Just don’t go bothering Arthur too much with all this.  I’m sure you can imagine, it’s a pretty bad memory.”

Isaac put down the now empty bowl and left the room, trudging through the snow to the edge of camp.  He squeezed his eyes shut against the vague memories he still had.  The fear that Pa wasn’t coming back, how listless Pa had been when he finally did.

He jumped when a horse snorted in his face.  He hadn’t noticed Bo walk up to him, and he pushed her nose away.  But when Isaac opened his eyes, he realized it wasn’t Boadicea in front of him.  A flaxen roan Tennessee Walker had wandered into camp, his saddle half-covered in snow.

“Hey, buddy, you lost?” Isaac asked.  “Let’s get you warmed up in the barn.”

Isaac got the horse inside, waving at Uncle.  Then, he noticed the O’Driscoll staring at him.

“Hey, mister, hey, that’s my horse!” the O’Driscoll said.  “Where’d you find him?”

“I… uh…”

“Hey, don’t talk to the kid!” Uncle said.

“Please, could you just take care of Branwen?  He’s a good horse.  He’s the only thing I cared about in that gang.  Please?” the O’Driscoll begged.  His eyes were wide and pleading.  He sagged against the ropes keeping him tied up, weak, pathetic, nothing like the monster Isaac imagined an O’Driscoll to be.

“Fine,” Isaac stammered.  “We’ll look after him.”

“Thank you!  Thank you so much!  You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Isaac untacked Branwen and sent him towards the rest of the horses before running from the barn.

Chapter Text

Dutch poured over the maps and plans they found with in the O’Driscoll camp one last time.  Colm’s information, as usual, was good.  Great, even.  A rich businessman’s private train, most likely carrying bonds, would be coming through an empty section of the Grizzlies.  They had the dynamite, and the perfect ambush spot already picked out.

Now, if only he wasn’t surrounded by doubters.

He knew Annabelle was ignoring him.  It wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this, though it had been several years.  The last time was when they argued over her participating in robberies.  And yes, the Blackwater job went wrong, but how was he supposed to know it was going to turn into such a disaster?

“If I’m reading these plans right, this train should be coming through in a few hours,” he called over to Annabelle, who was sitting by the fireplace.  “It’s time to start prepping the boys.”

She stared into the flames.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” he prompted.

“Are you going to listen to what I have to say?” she asked.

“Are you still angry because I kept pushing for the Blackwater job?”

“No, why would I be angry?  Two people are dead, three are missing, and one got his face eaten by wolves.”

Dutch sighed.  “You can’t blame me for the wolves.”

“No, but I can blame you for not having a proper escape plan in place even though we knew there were lawmen in town.”

“I didn’t know-”

“Arthur told you!  Arthur wanted us to move the camp to New Austin.”

“And they’d be all alone right now, wondering why we didn’t make it to the desert!”

“Maybe if we didn’t have to regroup at camp and trap ourselves along the river, all of us could be in the desert!  Instead of freezing up here!” Annabelle argued back.

“Let’s not waste our time on what-ifs, Anna!”

The door opened, and Hosea stumbled in, half-covered in snow.  “Seems this weather is starting to break.  What’s the plan, Dutch?”

“We need money, for wherever we end up,” Dutch said.  “We found these plans for a train robbery, and I reckon me and the boys can hit it just fine.”

“What?” Hosea said.  “You want to rob a train?  Now?”

“What choice do we have?”

“Folk ain’t ready for that, Dutch.  It’s been hard on all of us,” Hosea said.

“So, what?  We continue struggling and starving?  We need money.  I don’t see another way!”

“We won’t starve, Dutch,” Hosea said.  “We just need to get off these mountains and then find some opportunities.  Let folk rest.  Grieve, a little.  Try to find Arthur, Sean, and Mac.

“And how are we going to do that if we don’t have money for newspaper advertisements or postage?”

“Please tell me you aren’t about to pull off a dangerous job with little preparation as a signal to Arthur?” Annabelle said.

“What do you mean?”

“Robbing a rich businessman’s train in the middle of the mountains so the newspapers write about it.  So Arthur knows to come east and not west,” Annabelle said.

“That’s not the reason!” Dutch said.  “This is about money.  Everything got left behind in Blackwater, in case you forgot.”  Annabelle scowled, unconsciously rubbing at the healing bullet wound in her thigh.  “And hunting deer in the mountains ain’t gonna sustain twenty people for long!”

“Listen, I’ve been thinking about where to go next, and we’re not far from the Heartlands,” Hosea said.  “Ranching country, livestock towns.  We can easily get back on our feet without unnecessary attention.”

“This is the furthest thing from unnecessary, Hosea.  Those people out there are already losing the faith.   They need a win.  And this train job is perfect!”

“And what if your win turns into a loss, huh?  What if we lose more people!”

“That won’t happen,” Dutch said.  “Don’t you start doubting me, too.”

“I’m telling you what you need to hear!” Hosea shouted.

Dutch stormed out.  “Bill!  Can you handle the dynamite?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Dutch said, pulling out a copy of the map.  “We’re going to set up by this water tower here.  Can you find your way with this?”

“Sure.  This is the lake where them O’Driscolls were?”

“Yes.  Start packing up the dynamite, we’ll be leaving as soon as I have everyone else gathered up.”

He found Charles and Lenny in the barn and Micah in the boy’s cabin.  He went to the main cabin last, seeing Javier talking to a rather drugged-up John, though he was distracted by Isaac sitting alone by the fire.

“Hey, son, do you mind helping everyone pack up while we rob this train?” Dutch asked.

“Okay,” Isaac said, getting up almost in a daze.

“Want me to come?” John asked.

Dutch dragged his eyes away from Isaac to address John.  “Well, of course I do, son, but look at you.”

“I was always ugly, Dutch,” John said, trying to sit up.  “It’s just a scratch.”

“Oh, lie still, son.”  He looked over his shoulder for Abigail, spotting her enter the room with Jack.  “Abigail, could you make sure John doesn’t try following us?”

“You are going to rest, you silly man,” she sighed, taking up the seat next to the bed.  “The boy wanted to see you, John.”

Jack hung back, nervously watching his father.  “Hey, Jack,” John said.

“Are you okay, Pa?” Jack asked.

“I will be, son, don’t you worry.  Still the same man, just missing a few chunks.”

“John!” Abigail said.  “You’ll scare him!”

“He’s an idiot, Abigail, we all know it,” Dutch chuckled, then signaled Javier to follow.  “Now, railway men!  Bill, you head out and start setting the charges.”

“Dutch,” Hosea said.  “Let’s call this off.”

“What do you have against making money, old man,” Micah said.

“Thank you, Mr. Bell,” Dutch said, waving him off.  As much as he liked the support, he didn’t want too many people witnessing the animosity that formed between him and Hosea since Blackwater.  “What do you want from me, Hosea?”

“I want to stick to the plan, which was to lie low, find our son, and then head back out west.  Now we’re about to rob a train?”

“What choice have we got?”

“Leviticus Cornwall is no joke, Dutch,” Hosea said.  “He hires private security.  He’s careful.  If there’s money on that train, there will be guns.”

“If he can hire his own private train, then I think he has plenty of money to share,” Dutch said.

“Dutch-”

“Gentlemen!” Dutch called out to his gang.  “It is time to make something of ourselves.  Get your horses ready, we have a train to rob!”

The adrenalin coursed through his body as they rode towards the ambush point and he relayed the plan.  The rush, the anticipation.  This was what he was made for!  He’d let himself go soft, leading the gang in jobs instead of participating.  Blackwater was the first major job he’d led in a long time, and it scared him how quickly that had gone south.  Though he supposed there were warnings, but it was too good an opportunity to let pass.  This job wouldn’t be like that, he knew it.  Once it was finished, Hosea and Annabelle would see.

“Oh, look at your boys,” he called back to his gang.  “This is what I call a crew.  Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, and what about young Lenny here?  Always the first man on his horse.”

“Just happy we’re back at’em, Dutch,” Lenny said.  Good.  Someone should be.

“You sure you’re ready for this, kid?” Javier asked.

“’Course I’m ready.”

“Just stay calm, keep your eyes sharp,” Dutch reminded him.  “That goes for all of you.  No mistakes, not again.”

“So we do this, then we go back to Blackwater to collect?” Micah asked.

“We’ll go back when the time is right,” Dutch said.  “The money’s safe, trust me.  And if the O’Driscolls are right, there’ll be a stack of railroad bonds on this train.  Good money, once we work out how to cash them.  Now everyone shut up and get your mind on the job at hand.  Come on!”  They were almost at the water tower.  “Let’s line up on this ridge.  Is Bill there?”

“Yeah, boss,” Micah said.

“You want to head down?  See how he’s getting on?”

“Okay.”

Micah went down to Bill, talked with him for a bit, then came back up.  “He says it’s all good,” Micah reported.  “I have to say, I’m rather looking forward to this.

“Good.  Just be ready to move quick, and remember the plan.  All of you!  No mistakes.”  Bill waved at Dutch from down below and went to his position by the detonator.  “Okay, cover your faces.  Train should be here any minute now.”

A screech of brakes and the faint, chugging engine reached his ears.  “Gentlemen, it’s time,” Dutch said, adjusting his grip on his revolver.  “Good luck, all of you.  You all know what to do.”

The train came around the corner.  Dutch kept his eye on the engine, where he would go first to take care of the engineer.  But it kept coming, going under the tunnel, and he saw Bill desperately hitting the plunger again and again out of the corner of his eye.  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

Nothing was going right.  Had they lost their spark?

“Come on!” Javier said to Lenny, hopping off his horse and running towards the end of the tunnel.  They weren’t going to… they were!  Maybe it wasn’t hopeless after all.  They could still adapt and succeed.

“Gentlemen!  Follow that train!” Dutch shouted as Lenny and Javier jumped onto the train.  His heart stuttered when they exited the train tunnel and saw Lenny dangling off the side, but he saw Javier pull him back up before the train went around the corner.

They followed along behind the gunshots and occasional bodies, none who were Lenny and Javier thankfully.  Eventually, they heard the screeching of brakes and a barrage of gunfire.  “Come on!” he said, spurring the Count faster.  “Let’s help those boys end this!”

Once they arrived to help Javier and Lenny, the battle ended quickly.  Dutch grinned, surveying the scene, feeling the rush of success.  This Cornwall had an army, so there must be something valuable on that train, but those men were nothing compared to his gang.  “Are you two alright?” he asked as an afterthought.

“We’re fine,” Javier said.  “Let’s get that money!”

“We got some fellers holed up in this last car,” Dutch observed.  It must be the private car.  “What are you boys planning on doing in there?  Listen to me, we don’t want to kill any of ya… any more of ya.”  Dutch chuckled along with the gang at that.  “I give you my word, but trust me, we will.”

A muffled shout came through the train door.  “I work for Leviticus Cornwall!”

“Come on, boys.”

“We got our orders.”

“Okay, you asked for it.”  Dutch held up his fingers and started a countdown.  “Five.  Four.”

“We ain’t opening this door.”

“Three, two, one!”  He waited a second, but no response came.  “Seems our friends have gone deaf,” he told the gang.  Wake ‘em up a little!”

The gang unloaded their bullets into the side of the train, but even that didn’t do the trick.  Shit, these men were stubborn.

“We ain’t coming out!  You got no way in here,” the man continued.

“That’s enough!” Dutch shouted, and the gunfire ceased.  “Mr. Williamson, give Mr. Escuella and Mr. Smith some dynamite.  You two boys, go blow that door open.”

The boys did as he said, attaching the dynamite to the train car door.  “Now, it don’t matter too much to us, but you boys in there, might want to take a step back,” Dutch warned.

The door blew in, crashing into the floor.  The three remaining men, realizing they were defeated, appeared with their hands in the air.  “Alright, come on, just walk on out here,” Dutch said.  “We don’t want to kill you.  We just want to rob your boss.”

Micah, Lenny, and Charles searched the train, and Dutch paced in front of their prisoners.  Finally, they returned.  “What did you find?”

“Bonds,” Charles said.  “Here.”

“Ah, bearer bonds.  I think we can probably sell these pretty easily.  Well done, everyone!  Mr. Bell, could you get rid of all this?”

“The train?”

“Yeah, get it out of here.”

“And them?  Shouldn’t leave them alive.  They’ll talk.”

“Up to you,” Dutch said.  “Kill ‘em, leave ‘em-”

Micah drew his guns and downed all three in rapid succession.  

“Shit!” Bill said, jumping back.

That was… fast.  Part of Dutch wanted to praise Micah for his commitment to keeping them safe, the other was surprised at how easy it was for him.  It wasn’t exactly… necessary, but then again they had left a lot of bodies behind and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t talk.  So, he simply said, “See you back at camp.  When you get back, we’ll be moving on.  The rest of you, let’s ride!”

They rode back fast, and found the rest of the gang packing up the last of their supplies.  Charles immediately went to help John get to a wagon.  Hosea was talking with Susan, and Dutch saw him look up and count each man that rode back in, relaxing more as each passed him.  “Did it go well?” he asked.

Oh, sure, now Hosea cared.  “A few bumps.  A screw up with the dynamite.”  Dutch sent a glare at Bill, though Bill didn’t notice.  “Javier and Lenny managed to stop the train.  They did good work!  And we got these bearer bonds.  I figure you’ll find a good place to sell these.  Discreetly.”

“It might take a few weeks,” Hosea said.  “We don’t want to draw too much suspicion in New Hanover.  But I think I found a good place for us to set up camp.  A place called Horseshoe Overlook near Valentine.”

“Well, then, as soon as Micah gets back, we’ll get going.  Oh, there he is!” Dutch said.  “How about Anna and I take that wagon-”

“Actually, I think I’d like to ride with Hosea,” Annabelle said, limping out with Tilly’s help.

“Well, okay, if you want to be like that,” Dutch replied.  “Go talk about what’s gone wrong with old Dutch.”

“Isaac, want to ride with us?” Annabelle asked, and the boy nodded.

Dutch sighed as he watched Isaac hop into the back of their wagon.  Poor kid.  He’d gone quiet over the last few days, having seen too much.  Once they were settled in Valentine, he could fix it.  Look for Arthur.

He hadn’t meant to leave him behind.  There were many things went wrong in Blackwater, things he should have done better.  But he hadn’t known Arthur had gone into town.  And by the time he found out, the lawmen were already surrounding the camp and they had to move.

Arthur better be alright.  He better be hiding out in some camp in the middle of the woods, waiting for word on where to proceed, because if Arthur was dead, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

They could search, soon.  Discreetly, of course.  Needed to see if the law was still sniffing about, too.  As they passed out of the snow and into grass, Dutch called out, “Lenny!  Micah!  Get over here!”

“Yes, boss?” Micah said.

“You two ride up ahead, make sure there’s no surprises.  We’ve had enough of those.”

“Me, with the boy?” Micah scoffed.

Why did he have to deal with questions at every turn?  “Just go,” Dutch said.

Micah didn’t argue further.  “Come on, kid.  You can buy me a whiskey.”

Hosea, Annabelle, Isaac, and Charles fell behind when a wheel broke off their wagon, but other than that, their journey was blissfully uneventful.  They arrived at Horseshoe Overlook, and Dutch whistled as he took in the view of the Dakota from the cliffs.  The same rush he felt after the train job was back.  

“This is wonderful.  What do you think, Miss Grimshaw?”

“It will do.  Let’s start unpacking!”

The tents were coming together by the time Hosea rolled in, and not even the old man’s sour face could spoil his good mood.  “You weren’t wrong, Hosea.  This place is perfect!”

“I hope so,” Hosea said.

“Gentlemen, we have survived.”

“For now,” Hosea said, always the downer.

“Now it is time to prosper.”

“Arthur and I could have prospered in Blackwater,” Hosea said.  “We were onto something big, then Micah got you all excited about that ferry and here we are.  With folk still missing!”

“We have all made mistakes over the years, Hosea, every last one of us.  But I kept us together, kept us alive, kept the nooses off our neck.”

“Not all of us!”

“I know!” Dutch shouted.  “I know, but we are safe now, and we…”  He glanced at Isaac and regretted it.  He’d never seen that boy look so… blank.  “We’ll start turning over rocks, seeing what we can find.”

“Okay.  I just… I’m an old man, Dutch.  I just want to know folk are safe.”

“I know.  Arthur’s going to be fine, Hosea.  You know he will.”

Dutch said it mostly for Isaac, and partially for himself.  Susan came over, gently offering Arthur’s tent to Isaac, since Lenny and Sean weren’t there.  Isaac nodded, disappeared into the tent, and lowered the flaps.

Dutch sighed.  “I ain’t quite sure how to help him, apart from getting Arthur back.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Hosea said.  “He’s scared, grieving Davey and Jenny, not sure what’s going to happen.”

“No one else, Hosea,” Dutch said.  “I swear to you, no one else.”

“I hope so.”

“Just have faith.  Trust me.”

Chapter Text

A few weeks went by rather uneventfully in their new camp.  Annabelle and John recovered well from their injuries, though Abigail was still forcing John to take it easy.  Which was fine, since John was spending a lot of time playing with Jack.  Jack did get a mild cold (though didn’t they all) from the mountains.  He bounced back fast, as kids do, and now he was running around Horseshoe Overlook without a care in the world.

The same couldn’t be said for Isaac, however.  And Hosea was getting worried.

Hosea understood, of course.  There were moments where he, too, wanted nothing more than to gallop back to Blackwater, find Arthur, and deliver him to that boy in one piece, but they couldn’t.  And there was only so long he could tell Isaac that no news was good news.  No hangings reported in the paper, no arrests.  But that didn’t make things better.

Charles reported to him earlier that Isaac wouldn’t go hunting with him anymore.  Now that the shock of Colter and desperate need for food had worn off, Isaac just stayed in bed all day.  Wouldn’t go near Boadicea, either.  Hosea needed a way to bring Isaac back, and all he could think about was what Arthur did for him when he lost Bessie.

Not that Isaac had lost Arthur.  He couldn’t think about that.  Especially not after what Trelawny said to them.  Dutch’s favorite magician had shown up seemingly out of nowhere again, bringing news from Blackwater.

“What did Trelawny find?” Hosea had asked Dutch after he saw the man.

“Apparently, some bounty hunters found a grave for Mac Callander.  I don’t think they disturbed it too much, just checked to make sure a body was in there and then reburied him,” Dutch said.

“Shit,” Hosea said, shaking his head.  “Wait, but if someone buried him…”

“Exactly.  Arthur, or Sean.  Or both.”

“They’re alive out there!”

“I hope so,” Dutch said.  “I put on of our Tacitus Kilgore ads in the newspaper before I left town, so hopefully Arthur will see it.  We just have to wait for him.”

The vague information didn’t change Isaac’s mood much, and Hosea couldn’t blame him for not being ecstatic over speculations.  Which led Hosea to distracting Isaac for a few days.  “What’s going on, son?” he asked Isaac, barging into his tent.

“Nothing,” Isaac said, not looking up from the loose thread he was playing with.

“Want to go hunting?” Hosea asked.  “I saw a huge bear.”  

“Not really.”

“One of the biggest I ever saw,” Hosea continued.  “I reckon nearly a thousand pounds.  Come on, it will get us out of camp for a bit.”

“I’m okay.”

Hosea grimaced, trying to come up with… something.  “It’s up by this lake in the mountains.  Beautiful country.  Bessie and I were up this way once, you know?”

“Really?” Isaac asked, perking up a little.  Hosea didn’t bring up Bessie too much anymore, so this new information must have intrigued him.

“A long time ago now, but I still remember,” Hosea said.  “It might take a day or two.  Come on!  It will be fun, getting out of here for a bit.”

“What if Pa comes back?”

“We only just put the ad in the paper.  Hell, it probably hasn’t even printed yet!  Come on, let’s surprise him with a bear pelt when he gets back!  Go on, tack up Boadicea.”

Isaac shrunk back into himself.  “I don’t know.  I know I rode her in Colter, but… she’s Pa’s.”

“Well, I’ve got this big bastard of a Shire I’ve been meaning to offload for a while,” Hosea said, thinking fast.  “Stole him from somebody who harassed me on the road.  Let’s take him to Valentine!  If you like him, you can keep him.  If not, you can sell him and buy a horse that you want.”

“You don’t mind if I take him?” Isaac asked.

“Not at all!  I’ve got Silver, after all.  Don’t need two horses.”

“Alright.”

“Great!  Get your saddle on him, and let’s go!”

Hosea approached Dutch as Isaac switched the saddles.  “You two heading out?” Dutch asked.

“Yeah, I figured I’d distract him for a little,” Hosea said.  “Three days at the most, I’d say.”

“You look after him, Hosea.  Don’t want Arthur mad at us when he gets back,” Dutch said with a grin.

Hosea rolled his eyes at him, and returned to Isaac.  “You ready?”

“He seems mean,” Isaac said about the Shire as he saddled him.  “He ain’t gonna throw me, is he?”

“No, he’s an angel!  If I’m near him,” Hosea said.  “Okay, see if you can get your leg over that brute.  A bit taller than you’re used to, isn’t he?  Alright, let’s head into town.”

Isaac carefully directed the giant Shire to follow Hosea and Silver Dollar.  The Shire plodded along after them.  “So, we’re going to Valentine?”

“Yes.  It’s on the way, sort of.  Besides, I need some supplies if we’re going to lure out that bear.  You still have that money your pa gave you, right?”  Arthur had given Isaac a couple hundred dollars in case he found a horse he wanted while Arthur was out of camp.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t have papers for that big bastard, so you might have to pay a little extra for a new horse.  If you aren’t keeping him, that is.”

“Shouldn’t I give that to the camp?  We need it, don’t we?”

“The camp will be fine,” Hosea said.  “Once I unload these Cornwall bonds, we’ll be set for a while.  Don’t worry.  Your pa wants you to buy a horse with that money anyway.  Who would you rather listen to?  Him, or Dutch?”

Isaac laughed a little.  “I guess it is my pa’s money.”

“Exactly,” Hosea said as they arrived at the stable.  “Now, go in there and see what you can find.”

Hosea grabbed some berries and fish from the market, giving Isaac some space for shopping.  But it didn’t take too long, and when he got back, Isaac was standing next to the last stall, staring at a chocolate roan Dutch Warmblood.  The horse was chewing on his sleeve, and Isaac was laughing while trying to push his head away.

“What do you think?” Hosea asked him.  “Is that the one?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you like him.”

“Yeah, but Uncle Hosea, he’s four hundred and fifty dollars,” Isaac said in a hushed voice.

“Well, how much are you getting for this brute?” Hosea asked, referring to the Shire.

“Uh…”

“He’s in luck,” the stable owner said.  “I’ve got a feller who’s been looking for a decent workhorse for a while.  I can give you sixty for him.”

“See?” Hosea said.  “Now he’s three hundred ninety dollars.  Sort of.”

“It’s still a lot of money, Hosea.”

“And your father gave you that money for a reason.  He wants you to have a horse you’ll love, so don’t feel bad about it, alright?  That horse looks strong, and pretty young, too, so you’ll have him for a number of years.  Seems worth it to me.”

Maybe if Hosea was alone, he’d try to negotiate the price down.  But he didn’t want Isaac to become discouraged, and as Isaac continued to contemplate, the stable owner said, “You know, you seem like a good, smart man.  How about I knock fifty dollars off the price.”

Isaac looked to Hosea.  Hosea nudged him towards the horse.  “Yeah, okay.”

“You’re buying him?”

“Yes, I’ll buy him.”

“Wonderful!” Hosea said, relieved.  He patted Isaac on the back as the kid shakily removed the money from his bag.  “You made a good choice, I think.  He’s a wonderful animal.”

“I only sell the best,” the stable owner said.  “Now, do you have a name for him?”

“Not yet,” Isaac said.

“Well, make sure you think of a good one.  I won’t put anything on the papers just yet.  Now, will you be needing new tack?”

“My saddle is fine, thanks.”

“Alright, well have a new grooming brush, on me, and some treats.  Have a good day, son,” the stable owner said.

Isaac mounted up, and the Warmblood behaved nicely for him.  “Alright, follow me,” Hosea said.  “It’s been a few years, but I think I still remember how to get there.”

“How far is it?”

“Quite a ride.  Back up in the mountains.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but the area we’re going to shouldn’t be buried in snow.”

“I’ve never hunted a grizzly bear before,” Isaac said.  “Pa avoided them.  We’d run into wolves and cougars sometimes, but that was more them finding us.”

“Fortunately for you, Isaac, you are with a bear hunting expert!” Hosea said.  “I was practically weaned on bear meat.  Black bear, mostly.”

“Aren’t they more skittish?” Isaac asked.

“Yes.  Loud noises will scare them off.  Except when there are cubs around.”

Hosea was glad to see Isaac opening up a little more, asking questions and becoming excited again.  He knew this distraction would work wonders.  He filled the ride over to O’Creagh’s Run with stories from his youth, and just as they were overlooking the lake, the sun began to slip under the horizon, and they had to camp for the night.

The next morning, Hosea rose early, made himself a pot of coffee, and shook Isaac awake.  “You ready?”

“I think so.  How are we doing this?”

“We’ll go down to the lake, see if we can pick up some tracks.  Can you mix this bait for me?  Fish and berries.  Bears have a sweet tooth.”

“Sure.”

Hosea smiled as Isaac jumped to the task.  He was glad to see a spark back in Isaac’s eyes.  “Some folk like to shoot from the trees.  Me?  I prefer shooting from the ground.  More dangerous, sure, but we have a better chance of getting a good shot in.  And if he bolts, we can start right after him.”

“Alright, done,” Isaac said.

“Good.  Let’s pack up and get going.”  They mounted up and headed towards the lake.  Hosea breathed in the mountain air, reminiscing about his time with Bessie.  “I almost built a little cabin in these mountains with Bessie,” he told Isaac.  “Years ago.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  We loved the forests, the lakes, all the wildlife.  But it turned out it was too quiet for us.  Well, for me anyway.  So, we came back to the Dutch and your pa.  That was almost twenty years ago now.”

“Was she okay with that?” Isaac asked.

“It wasn’t easy.  I think there were days when Bessie wished we’d stayed in the mountains, but we made it work.  But she wouldn’t have traded spending time with Arthur, John, and you for anything, I don’t think.  Oh, let’s stop here, see if our bear has been by the water.  How’s that horse treating you, by the way?”

“He’s good.”

“Got a name, yet?”

“No.”

They got off their horses and inspected the shoreline.  Hosea leaned closer, looking for dung, paw prints, fish bones… anything recent.

“There’s some paw marks, Uncle Hosea,” Isaac said.  “Big ones.  Going this way.”

“Good, lead the way,” Hosea said, readying his rifle. 

A little deeper into the woods, they found a half-eaten fish, then bear shit a little later.  But the trail suddenly disappeared, and both Hosea and Isaac were left scratching their heads.

“Did we lose him?” Isaac asked.

“For now.  Normally, I’d say let’s split up, but I don’t think your pa would appreciate that,” Hosea said.  “Let’s bait here.”

“Alright.”

“Stick the bait by those boulders up ahead, and then we’ll hide back here,” Hosea said.

Isaac placed the rag of fish and berries on the ground, breaking it open a little with his knife to help the scent escape.  “This thing really going to be a thousand pounds?”

“More or less.  Big scar down his face.  Hey, did that bait look okay to you?”

“I think so.  I haven’t used much bait before.”

“Ready with your gun there?”

Isaac steadied the rifle against his shoulder.  “I’m good.”

Hosea looked at the rag, sitting near a giant boulder.  “Maybe we should check that bait real quick.  I want this to go right.”

“Okay.”

Hosea ran towards the bait, crouching down and inspecting it with his knife.  Isaac joined him.

And then footsteps approached them.  Heavy footsteps.  A low, rumbling growl echoed off the rocks.  Hosea and Isaac both looked up at the gigantic bear.  “Oh, god,” Hosea whispered.

“Hosea…”

“Get back!” he said, reaching for Isaac’s arm.  But he missed.  In his desperation to get away from the monster, he took one step too far, and missed Isaac’s arm, the poor teenager still frozen in front of him.

The bear charged, pouncing on Isaac, large paws with sharp claws knocking him on his back.

“Shit!  Isaac!” Hosea shouted, lifting his rifle.  His hands shook.  He couldn’t be sure of his aim!  He had to be sure, because what if he missed?  What if he hit Isaac?

The bear roared in Isaac’s face, drool dropping from its jowls.  In his panic, Hosea fumbled with the rifle.  But Isaac moved, perhaps on instinct or adrenaline, extracting his knife and stabbing it into the beast’s neck.

With a scream, the bear reared back.  Isaac extracted the knife, blood pouring down on him, and stabbed its neck again and again.  The bear let out a roar, stumbling back a few steps, then collapsed.

“Isaac!  You alright?” Hosea asked, dropping his rifle and rushing to Isaac’s side.  Isaac was covered in blood, but he was clutching a gash above his hip.  “Come on, I need to check this out.  Say something, please?”

Isaac’s breathing was rapid and shallow, his eyes glazed and staring blankly ahead.

“Come on, kid, why don’t we sit up quick.  Let’s get to the lake, wash this off.  You’re going to be okay, you hear me?”

“Hosea?”

“You’re alright.  Get up now.  Lean on me, that’s it.”  Hosea guided Isaac away from the downed monster, sitting him against a rock near the shore.  “Let’s take a look at this, okay?  Clean you up.  I’m sorry, Isaac.  This is my fault, I’m sorry!”

He peeled back the coat and shirt, taking in the scratches.  They were long across his side and bleeding, but they didn’t seem too deep.  “Alright, we can fix this, okay?  Your pa might kill me for giving you scars, but you are going to be fine.  I promise.  You think you can keep pressure on this while I boil some water?  I’ll be right here, I promise.”

Isaac nodded, taking the offered cloth and pressing it against his wounds.

“Good.  Good job, Isaac.  Alright, let me just… find something to boil water in,” Hosea said, glancing around.  He didn’t have a pot to boil the water.  There was a cabin on the edge of the lake, with smoke coming out of the chimney, a cremello gold Dutch Warmblood hitched outside.  Should he risk it?  One look at Isaac’s pale face had Hosea squeezing his shoulder and saying, “I’m going to get some help, okay?  You going to be alright just sitting here for a minute?”

Isaac nodded again, so Hosea moved.  He ran to the house and pounded on the door, glancing back over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure Isaac was still sitting up.

“Hold on, give me a minute,” a muffled voice came through the door.  An older man yanked the door open, with shoulder length gray hair and a beige canvas hat, but Hosea’s eye immediately went to the wooden leg on his left side.  Just like Arthur.  “Can I help you?”

“We were hunting, and a bear got my grandson!” Hosea said.  “I don’t think it’s too bad, but do you have any medical supplies?”

“I do, of course!” the man said, springing to action.  He grabbed a rifle and followed Hosea outside.  “You get him?”

“What?”

“The bear?  It was that one-eyed monster, wasn’t it?  He’s been taunting me for years.  Put two bullets in him, and he still wouldn’t die!”

“Isaac got him.  With a knife,” Hosea said, his voice shaking.

“Huh, never thought to do that,” the man said.  “I’m Hamish, by the way.”

“Hosea.”

“Good to meet you.”

Isaac was blinking heavily when they got back to him.  Hosea shook his shoulder and said, “Hey, kid, let’s get you up and get you to that cabin, alright?”

“Yeah…”

Hamish whistled when he took in the downed bear.  “Damn!  The kid did that?”

“Come on,” Hosea said, helping Isaac to his feet.

They got back to the cabin quickly.  Hamish started boiling some water while Hosea pulled Isaac’s jacket off and started checking for other injuries.  There was a lighter scratch near his shoulder, but it wasn’t as bad.  “Alright, Isaac, we’re going to clean you up and stitch up these scratches, but everything is going to be fine.”

“Hosea…”

“Yeah, kid?”

Isaac went silent again, staring blankly up at the ceiling.  Hamish came over while Hosea bandaged him up, squeezing Isaac’s shoulder.  “I have to thank you, kid.  That bear has been tormenting me for who knows how long!  Put a few bullets in him myself.  You did real good.”

Isaac’s eyes shifted, taking in Hamish’s wooden leg.  His eyes widened.

“Oh, you noticed my leg, huh?” Hamish said, taking it in stride.  “Don’t worry, it doesn’t slow me down.  And it wasn’t because of that bear!”

And Isaac started to cry.

“Isaac, hey, you okay?” Hosea asked.

“Not the reaction I usually get,” Hamish muttered, confused.

“Isaac?”

“I want my pa,” he sobbed.

Hosea shifted onto the bed, wrapping an arm around Isaac’s shoulders.  “I know, son.  I know.”

“I want Pa!”

Hamish went to the door.  “I’m going to start skinning that bear for you.”

Hosea waved him off before turning all his attention to Isaac.  “I know you want your pa, Isaac.  I want him back, too, and we’re working on it.  It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that!  It’s been weeks!”

“Hey, son?  Isaac?”

“Where is he?”

“Isaac, I… I don’t know,” Hosea said.  “I’m scared, too.  But we’re going to look after you until we know, I promise.  I’m sorry I got you hurt, but I’ll make it better, okay?”

“I want him back.”

“Alright, I know, I know,” Hosea said, pulling him into a tighter hug and rubbing his back.  “Let it out.  It’s okay.”

Isaac cried into Hosea’s chest for a while, slowly quieting, his head drooping.

“Alright, how about I clean up these wounds and let you rest a bit.  Sound good?”

“Yeah.”

Hosea finished dealing with the scratches while Isaac started to doze, physically and emotionally worn out.  “I think I’ll check on Hamish, see if he’s done skinning that bear.  I think your pa will want to see that pelt.  If he ever forgives me for giving you a scar.”

Isaac smiled sleepily, his eyes drifting shut.  Hosea tucked him in, then went outside to help Hamish with the bear.

Maybe he was getting a little old for hunting and robberies.

“He alright?” Hamish asked when Hosea joined him.

“He will be, I think,” Hosea said.  “He… his father, Arthur, has a wooden leg, too.  And he’s been missing for a few weeks now.  It’s been difficult for all of us, but Isaac… it’s been hard.”

“Poor kid,” Hamish said.

“I’ve been trying to help him, but… Arthur’s my son.  Not by blood, but I’ve raised him since he was fourteen.”

“I’m sorry,” Hamish said.  “But we’ll take care of him.  Fix up those scratches, then work on the rest.”

“Thank you,” Hosea said.  “I think you and Arthur would get along.”

“You’ll have to bring him by sometime,” Hamish said, and Hosea nodded, letting in a spark of hope.  When Arthur got back, not if, Hosea would tell him all about Hamish and send him over to O’Creagh’s Run.

He just hoped it would happen soon.

Chapter Text

Arthur woke up to Sean spooning him.  He elbowed Sean in the gut.

“Ugh, what the hell was that, English?”

“You got to sleep so close?”

“It’s cold!”

Arthur sighed.  It had been a long few weeks.  They’d made their way north after a close call with a bounty hunter.  The rather loud man complained openly to his friend about how they were still patrolling Tall Trees when the Van der Linde gang had gone north of the river, completely unaware that Arthur and Sean were hiding behind a bush not ten feet away.  They camped for a while near Owanjila after that, keeping an eye out for more law.  But the patrols had almost stopped, with most of the bounty hunters keeping an eye on Blackwater itself. “We should head into Strawberry, I think,” Arthur said.  

“Finally.  I need real food,” Sean said.

“What, you don’t like my cooking?”

“You stick mint leaves on a fish and call it cooking!”

“Fine, make your own damn food next time,” Arthur grumbled.

“Hey, I hurt my head!”

“Yeah, weeks ago!”  Sean was perfectly fine now.  Arthur, however, was having trouble walking.  After getting from Manzanita Post to Owanjila on foot, crawling and crouching and sneaking through the brush, his left leg constantly ached.  His right foot had blisters, too, and Sean complained about blisters on his own feet.  They both needed a proper rest.  Give their bodies some time to recover.

Strawberry was a quiet town of tourists, if Arthur remembered correctly.  It should be easy for the two of them to blend in and grab a hotel room, providing there were no bounty posters on the board.  But it was a dry town, too, and considering how most bounty hunters relied on saloons for leads and entertainment, Arthur was hopeful that they could get in without being recognized.

“Come on, Sean, let’s go,” Arthur said, staggering forward.

“A real bed, English?  You’re not just pulling my leg?”

“Yep, a real bed.”

“It’s about time.  I bet we could have gone there a week ago, but no, you just wanted to camp in the dirt a little longer.”

“I was trying to keep us safe, you fool!” Arthur said.

“And you’ve done an excellent job!” Sean said, slapping him across the back.  “But you went a bit overboard.”

“Well, next time we got bounty hunters searching the countryside for us, we can split up and you can get hanged in town.”

“Oh, they’d never catch me!”

“I doubt that,” Arthur grumbled.  “But if you’re so confident, you can go into town first to make sure they’re no posters.”

“With pleasure,” Sean said, sarcastically tipping his hat.  “You just sit yourself down on a rock and prop up that leg you lost… in an avalanche?”

“First of all, how would that even happen?  And no, you’re wrong again.”

“Oh, come on!  What haven’t I guessed yet?”

“The right answer?”

“One day, Morgan,” Sean said, stomping off towards town.  Arthur laughed, and collapsed onto a rock.

He really could use a soft bed and a good meal.  Maybe a hot bath, and then a nap.  For a week.

In fact, he was just starting to doze when Sean came crashing back through the brush.  “Arthur, get up!  You won’t believe it!”

“What?  What’s going on?” Arthur asked, fumbling with his revolver.  Sean appeared, and right behind him was, “Lenny!”

Arthur hauled himself to his feet, smiling wide.  “Arthur!” Lenny said, hugging him.  “I missed you.”

“You alright?”

“Well, aside from Dutch sending me scouting with Micah,” Lenny scoffed, “I’m fine.”

“Isaac-”

“He’s fine.  Hell, he and Charles kept us alive in those mountains.  I don’t know how Charles found deer up there, but he did.”

“Is everyone else okay?” Arthur asked.

Lenny hesitated.  “Davey’s dead.  And Jenny.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur told him.

“Damn, not Davey, too,” Sean said.  “Those Pinkerton bastards killed Mac.”

“Is town safe?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, so far.  It’s real quiet.”

“Camp nearby?”

“No, it’s on the other side of the Dakota in New Hanover.  Micah and I were supposed to be scouting, but he’s been drinking ever since we left.  I keep telling him we should head back.”

“Well, I think we need you to escort us to the new camp,” Arthur said with a grin.  “Let’s let him know we’re leaving.”

“Alright, Arthur.”

“Though, I should probably swing by the stables, grab a horse for me and Sean,” Arthur said.

“I’ll meet you over there.”

Arthur dug through his satchel as he limped over to the stables.  He didn’t have much money on him, but it should be enough for a Saddler or Tennessee Walker.  He surveyed the horses in the pasture, about to go talk to the stable owner, when a familiar Suffolk Punch whinnied and wandered over.  He couldn’t believe it!

“Hey, Rory.  Good to see you, buddy,” Arthur said, rubbing his forehead.  He quickly checked his satchel, relieved when he found Rory’s papers.  “Hey, mister!  This is my horse!”

“Sir?”

“My horse got a lost a few weeks ago.  I have papers.  Where did you find him?”

The stable owner looked over the papers and studied Arthur’s face.  “Oh, yeah!  Your kid was riding him.  He wandered into Strawberry a few days ago.”

“Thanks for taking care of him,” Arthur said, handing him a few dollars for boarding.

“Arthur, you ready?” Lenny said.  He and Sean were both on Maggie.

“Where’s Micah?” Arthur asked.

“Wouldn’t come with us.  Said he had business to attend to, whatever that means.”

“Ah, who cares?  I’d rather not ride with him,” Sean said.

“Lead the way,” Arthur said, hopping on Rory with a grin on his face.

Dutch sighed as he checked the mail, again.  The clerk didn’t even wait for his question that time, just saying, “Sorry, pal, nothing for Kilgore.”

“Thank you,” Dutch said, rubbing his eyes as he walked back out.  Arthur should have seen their newspaper ad by now, and he couldn’t be too far away.  Right?

At least Isaac was out with Hosea.  Dutch wouldn’t have to see the disappointment on his face again.  He’d been so hopeful when Trelawny appeared.  Now, it dwindled with each unsuccessful trip into town.

Annabelle knew immediately when he rode back in, his head hanging down as he gave the Count one more pat on the neck to delay talking to her.

“Nothing?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“It’s only been a few days,” she said.  “You know Arthur.  He’s probably drawing flowers and not checking the newspapers.”

“Sounds about right,” Dutch said.  “Though being a father did give him some responsibility.  I just… I was hoping to have news before Isaac and Hosea got back.”

“I know.”

“I… I messed up in Blackwater,” Dutch said.  He’d been thinking it for days, ever since they’d settled into the relative safety of New Hanover.  “I made a goddamn fool out of myself.”

“Not the first time that’s happened,” Annabelle said.  

“I know.  But if I… if I got our boy killed, I’ll be worse than a fool.”

“Dutch-”

“He went to town to help us, Anna!  I didn’t know.  Everyone on that boat agreed to do the job, and they knew the risks.  Arthur wasn’t supposed to be involved!  If he’s gone, then… I ain’t sure I could move on from that.”

He tried to meet Annabelle eyes, but she was looking past him, a smile growing on her face.  “I don’t think you have to,” she said.

“What?”

“Dutch!” Karen shouted, running back towards camp.  “You won’t believe it!”  Two horses trotted up the trail behind her, Maggie and… Rory?

“Arthur!”  Dutch, without realizing it, started running towards his son.  Arthur slid off Rory and practically fell into Dutch’s hug.  “Oh, son, you’re alright!”

Arthur began to laugh, relieved.  “Hey, Dutch, miss me?”

“You have no idea.”

“Come here, Arthur,” Annabelle said, snaking her arms around Arthur and joining the hug.  More gang members came over, greeting Sean and Lenny, but giving Dutch, Annabelle, and Arthur some space.

“Wait, Isaac.  Where is he?” Arthur asked, pulling back a little.

“Oh, he’s fine, I promise,” Dutch said.  “Hosea took him on a little hunting trip, get his mind off things.  They should be back tomorrow.”

“Is he okay?” Arthur asked.

“With you here, he will be.  Now, I think this calls for a party, what do you say?  We need to celebrate!” Dutch said.  “Uncle!  Head into town, get us some booze!”

“No problem, Dutch,” Uncle said.  “Good to see you back, Arthur.”

“Good to see you, too,” Arthur said genuinely, falling back into Dutch and Annabelle.

“Come on, let’s get you over to the fire.  You can tell us all about your adventures.”

Arthur hesitated.  “I lost Mac.  He got shot pretty bad, and I couldn’t do anything.”

“I know.  Trelawny heard from bounty hunters that they found his grave.  It’s not your fault, son.  I’m sure you did right by him.”

“I tried,” Arthur said.

“I know, son.  I know.”

They stayed in their hug until Boadicea tried to shove her way between them.  Arthur laughed, wrapping his arms around her neck and saying, “Hey girl, I missed you, too.”  

Once they got Boadicea to go back to her hay, others started to approach him.  Jack ran up, John and Abigail close behind.  “Damn, that’s quite a scratch,” Arthur said.  “Lenny wasn’t kidding.  Didn’t think you could get any uglier.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” John said, laughing.

“Come here,” Arthur said, pulling John into a hug.  “You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine.  I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me, too.”

The hugs continued as Arthur slowly made his way towards the fire and sat down on a log.  Javier shoved a drink in his hand before opening his own bottle.  Susan lovingly berated Arthur for the state of his clothes before sniffling and saying how much she missed him.  The rest of the girls drifted between him and Sean.

“Wait, where’s Mr. Bell?” Dutch asked, suddenly remembering their other missing gang member.

“Apparently he likes it over in Strawberry and wants to stay a while,” Arthur said.

“What?”

“I don’t know.  He told Lenny he had business to attend to.  Whatever that means.  Look, if he wants to stay in that boring town for a while, let him!  There ain’t even a saloon.”

As the party kicked off them, Arthur slid onto the ground and lounged against the log, relaxed and happy.  Dutch sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his back and encouraging him to lean on his shoulder.  Most of the gang joined them at the fire, but Charles walked past with a rifle in his hand.

“Wait, Charles, where are you going?” Arthur asked, sitting up.

“I figured someone should keep watch while everyone drinks,” Charles said.

“Oh, camp isn’t going to get attacked for one night.  What are the odds?  We don’t have that much bad luck,” Arthur said.

Charles hesitated.  “I’m not a big fan of parties.”

Arthur nodded and said, “I understand.  Just… I want to thank you for looking after Isaac.  Lenny said you took him hunting and kept him safe.  So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Arthur.  We can talk tomorrow.  Come find me,” Charles said.

Arthur smiled as Charles walked away, and Annabelle nudged Dutch in the side.  “What?” he asked, and she gestured to Arthur and Charles.  “Really?”

“What are you two talking about?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing!” Dutch said quickly.  Arthur and Charles.  Now that he thought about it, they did have a lot in common.  He’d never seen Arthur interested in a man before, but then again, he was rarely interested in anybody.  And Charles was a good man.

Pearson appeared next, putting a bowl of stew in Arthur’s hands.  “Here you go, Mr. Morgan!  I bet you missed this!”

“Sure,” Arthur said.  “This unknown concoction versus fresh rabbit over the fire.”

“You missed it.  Even if you won’t admit it,” Pearson said, patting him on the shoulder.

As the evening continued, Arthur leaned more and more onto Dutch.  As adorable as it was to have Arthur dozing on his shoulder, Dutch eventually said to Annabelle, “I think someone is ready for bed.”

“I’d say so.”

Dutch shook Arthur’s shoulder, chuckling when his son let out a groan and snuggled deeper into Dutch’s shirt.  “Come on, son, bedtime.”

“Okay,” he mumbled.

But when Arthur tried to stand up, he swayed.  He tried taking one step and stumbled.  Dutch and Annabelle caught him.  “Arthur, you okay?”

“Leg’s stiff,” he said with a groan.

“Alright, we got you,” Dutch said, pulling Arthur’s arm over his shoulder.  “Let’s get you to bed.”

They helped Arthur to bed, slowly stripping off his jacket and boot and leg.  “Oh, Arthur, you’re covered in blisters,” Annabelle said.

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur yawned.

“Maybe we still have some of that ointment,” said Dutch.  “I’ll check to supply wagon.  Why don’t you get into some fresh pajamas, Arthur, and then we’ll see to your leg.”

“Okay.”

Dutch spent a few minutes rummaging through their medical wagon, looking for the blister ointment Hosea sometimes mixed.  Fortunately, they still had some left.  By the time he returned, Arthur was half asleep on the cot in a fresh union suit.  Annabelle was whispering something in his ear, and it made Arthur smile.

“Here we go, son,” Dutch said, sitting on the edge of the cot.  He massaged the ointment into Arthur’s leg, smiling fondly as Arthur sighed and sank deeper into the pillows.  Before Dutch finished, Arthur was snoring.  “Goodnight, son.”

“Goodnight, Arthur,” Annabelle said, tucking blankets around their boy.  They went back to the party, content for the first time in weeks.

Arthur woke slowly the next morning, forgetting for a second that he was back in camp.  But between Susan and Pearson’s argument over the cooking, Sean’s complaining about being hungover, and Swanson’s drunken singing, he remembered soon enough.  He basked in the noises of camp, not wanting to get up just yet.

Someone entered his tent, and he rolled his head towards them, finally opening his eyes.  “Sorry, Mr. Morgan,” Susan said.  “I was just checking on you.  Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“That’s alright, Susan.  I wasn’t quite asleep.”  Arthur sat up, stretching his arms and legs.  Damn, he was sore.  No more walking from one town to another over several weeks.  He needed a horse, or it wasn’t happening.  Just as he considered getting up, he looked around the tent and realized his wooden leg wasn’t there.  “Susan, where’s my leg?”

“Somewhere safe.  I didn’t want you getting any bright ideas of using it with those blisters!”

“Fair enough,” Arthur said.  “You have my crutches?”

“Uh…”

“Susan…”

“We burned them,” she admitted.

“What?” 

“Oh, don’t give me that!  We needed dry kindling in those mountains.  It was Annabelle’s idea, blame her!”

“Look, I’m glad you didn’t freeze to death,” Arthur said.  “But now what am I supposed to do?”

“We’ll buy you new ones.”

“And until then?  I kind of have to get up for… certain things.”

“I’ll bring you a bucket,” said Susan.

“I am not shitting in a bucket.”

“Well, I’ll get one of the boys to help you over to a tree, then,” Susan said, waving him off.  And of course she brought back Charles.  Arthur’s cheeks burned as Charles helped him over to the trees, hopping on one leg while Charles supported him under his left shoulder.

“This is awkward,” Arthur chuckled, trying to relieve some of the tension once Charles leaned him against a tree.  

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Charles said.

It was still awkward on the way back, especially because Arthur elected to sit by the main fire instead of in his tent, meaning a longer walk.  “Bit embarrassing, hopping like this,” he said.

“I could carry you, if you think that would be better.”

“Faster, maybe,” Arthur said.  “But more-”

His next word switch to an undignified yelp when Charles reached down and scooped Arthur into his arms.

“That better?” Charles asked with a laugh, enjoying Arthur’s surprise.

His face burned even more.  “This might be worse.”

“Sorry, I’ll put you down,” Charles said.

“Ah, it’s okay.  We’re halfway there.  Just… warn a feller next time, alright?” Arthur said.  Despite his initial shock, he was rather impressed at how easily Charles picked him up.  Damn, Charles was strong!  Right as he was set against the log, Arthur found his thoughts drifting to what else Charles could do with his strength.

Shit, no.  He couldn’t think about that right now.  He should think about… breakfast!  And Pearson’s probably burned the coffee again.  It was going to be gross, but he would drink it anyway because he’d missed coffee over the last few weeks.  And Charles was the one bringing him coffee and breakfast, with that subtle half-smile and sitting next to him and-

“How was hiding in the woods with Sean for a few weeks?” Charles asked.

“Alright, I guess,” Arthur said.  “It was a bit rough in the beginning, between burying Mac and Sean’s concussion, but we made it.  The danger of bounty hunters kept Sean from talking too much.”

“That’s better than I expected.”

“How was it up in the mountains?”

“Cold, but we survived.”

“Who is the woman sitting with Abigail?” Arthur asked.

“That’s Mrs. Adler.  Dutch found her in a homestead that the O’Driscolls took over.  They killed her husband.”

“Damn.  And who’s that feller tied to the tree?”

“That’s an O’Driscoll Dutch had captured up there.”

“And Dutch brought him with you?” Arthur asked.

“He did.  I think he’s hoping for information on Colm,” Charles said.  “Hosea… he told us what they did to you.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, staring down into his food.

“I understand why Dutch is so determined to find Colm.”

“I don’t,” Arthur said.  “We should just avoid them, leave them alone.  O’Driscoll’s boys ain’t good fighters anymore, either.  Most of the originals have been arrested or killed, so Colm just recruits whoever he can find.  They got numbers, sure, but no sense.”

“Not like Dutch’s gang,” Charles said.  “I’m glad you’re back, Arthur.  I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.  I’m glad Isaac had you with him, especially since John managed to get himself eaten,” Arthur chuckled.

“I was glad to do it.  You’re a good… good friend, Arthur,” Charles said, hesitating slightly over the word friend.  “I haven’t been close to anyone like this in a long time.”

“I feel close to you, too,” Arthur said, looking around the camp to make sure everyone else was busy, just in case this conversation was going in the direction he thought it was going.

“I’m glad to be friends, but if you… I don’t have to just- I like you quite a lot, Arthur Morgan.  I could see us being more than friends.”

Arthur’s heart beat faster and faster, but he swallowed down the urge to just say yes.  “Charles, I have to put Isaac first.”

“Of course, I understand,” Charles said quietly.

“That ain’t a no,” Arthur said.  “I just mean that I have to talk to him first.  I ain’t ever been in a relationship with him around and… I just need to talk to him.”

“Okay,” Charles said with a smile.

“English!” Sean shouted, stomping over to Arthur.  Arthur jumped, sitting up away from Charles.  “You mean to tell me that all this time, all this time!”

“What?” Arthur asked.

“You lost your leg to a shotgun?  And because of the O’Driscolls at that?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped.  “You never guessed it!” he said.

“I guess everything from a horse kicking you to a bear trap, and it was just a shotgun?”

Behind Sean, Lenny was trying to sneak out of camp, his head ducked low.  “Dammit, Lenny!” Arthur shouted after him.

Chapter Text

Isaac was confused when he woke up in a soft bed in a cabin instead of his tent at Horseshoe Overlook.  He could hear Hosea talking and laughing, but not to anyone he knew.  Though it was vaguely familiar.

He tried to sit up, but made it only an inch off the mattress before his side burned and he gasped, flopping back into the pillows.  Hosea was next to him in a second.

“Isaac, are you okay?”

“Uncle Hosea?  What?”

“You’re going to be just fine, you hear me?” Hosea said, squeezing his shoulder and laying a hand over his forehead to check for fever.  Isaac dragged his eyes open.  “Good, you aren’t nearly as warm anymore.  You remember what happened?”

Did he?  Isaac closed his eyes, trying to find his last memory.  Hosea wanted to take him hunting, he got a new horse, a bear mauled him- oh.  “Bear got me,” he muttered to Hosea as an answer.

“Only a little,” Hosea reassured him.  “It’s a pretty long scratch, but just on your side.  Not like John and the wolves, I promise.”

Isaac’s lips twitched towards a smile.

“Hey, you want breakfast, kid?” the other man said, hauling himself up onto a crutch and- oh.  Right.  They were out hunting because his pa was missing and probably dead.  Hosea just wanted to distract him and get him out of camp in case the bad news finally came.

“What do you say, Isaac?  Coffee?  Eggs?” Hosea said.  “I bet you’re hungry after yesterday.”

Isaac hadn’t thought much about it, but as soon as Hosea asked, his stomach gave a growl.  “I think so,” he said, bracing himself to sit up again.  Hosea slid a hand under his back and guided him up.

“I’ll make you a plate,” the other man said.  “I’m Hamish, by the way, if you don’t remember.”

“Hi,” Isaac said awkwardly.

“Now, I heard you took down that monster with only a knife!  You’ve got guts, kid.  You could live up in the mountains here no problem!”

“Really?” Isaac said.

“Of course!  You’ve got two mountain folk here who know our way around bears, and we both agree!” Hamish said.  “Come on, let’s get some eggs in you!  Get you strong for the next one!”

Isaac grinned, accepting the plate.

“Are you feeling okay right now?” Hosea asked while he ate, still hovering over his shoulder.

Isaac hesitated.  “It hurts, but not too bad.”

“Your father is going to kill me for this,” Hosea said.

Isaac paused mid-bite and hesitantly asked, “You really think he’s out there?”

“Yes, I do,” Hosea said firmly.  “Out there probably wondering where us idiots have gotten to.”

“Are you sure?”

Hosea hesitated slightly, then said, “No.  Not sure.  But I know he won’t give up easy.  He wants to find us more than anything.”

“I know,” Isaac said.  Maybe Hosea was right.  Just because they hadn’t heard anything didn’t mean his pa was dead.  It was a little hard to believe at times, but he tried.  “You think he’ll be jealous about that bear?”

“Oh, so jealous!  We got the pelt, too!  Hamish and I went out there and skinned it, so you should get your pa to make you a nice coat or something.”

“Yeah, and you should bring him over here.  I want to meet him!” Hamish said.

“Really?” Isaac said.

“Of course!  We can go fishing together.”

“My pa can’t fish,” Isaac said.

“Well, I’m a great fisherman, so between us, we’ll have something to eat,” Hamish said.

“Okay.”  When his pa got back, and hopefully he would, they’d come back to this lake.  God, he hoped his pa came back!

“Isaac, do you think you can ride back?” Hosea asked.  “I don’t want to put you in more pain, but Dutch is going to start worrying if we don’t come back on time.”

“Yeah, he won’t be happy if we’re late,” Isaac joked.  “It hurts but I think I can ride.”

“Alright, let’s clean this up and change the bandages, and then we’ll head out,” Hosea said.

Isaac got his first look at his injury then, his skin stitched together with parallel lines of thick, black string.  It would probably scar, but he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.  It was proof that he’d gone up against a grizzly and lived.

“You done with that plate?” Hamish asked.

“Yeah.  Thank you,” Isaac said.  “You’re a good cook.”

“I try.  Living out here, all alone, you get a lot of time to experiment!”

“Isn’t it lonely?”  Isaac couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t surrounded by the gang.

“No, I got the whole of nature up here!” Hamish said.  “Elk, wolves, sometimes a moose.  And the Tyrant!”

“The Tyrant?”

“Mean as Hell Northern Pike.  Been eating anything that spawns in that lake.  One of these days, I’ll catch him!” Hamish said, shaking his fist at the lake.

“Alright, Isaac, you think you can stand up for me?” Hosea asked.  Isaac wobbled a little, but remained upright with a grimace on his face.

“Well, it was good to meet both of you,” Hamish said.  “You come back and visit, you hear?”

“Of course!” Hosea said.  “Aside from a bear attack, this was fun!”

Hamish walked them out, pausing next to the cremello Dutch Warmblood who napping next to Isaac’s Warmblood.  “Well, looks like Buell and your guy are friends!  What’s his name?”

“I haven’t decided yet.  I just bought him,” Isaac said.  Poor horse.  He just left his comfortable stable, got dragged across the state, and then left outside.

“Well, be sure to pick a good one!” Hamish said.  “I named Buell after my general in the war.  Of course, General Buell cost me a leg, and this feller is an ornery bastard, so be careful what you pick.”

“What about Apollo?  Name him after one of the Greek gods?” Isaac said, rubbing his horse’s forehead while he shoved his head towards Isaac’s pockets.  “You like that?  Or do you just want some treats?”

“You two are going to get along great,” Hosea said.  “Can you get up there by yourself?”

“Maybe?” Isaac said.  Hosea ended up giving him a boost.

“Well, see you around Hamish!” Hosea said to him as they rode away.

“Thank you!” Isaac said.

“You’re welcome.  Like I said, come by anytime with that father of yours,” Hamish said, waving from the porch.

They rode back slowly, given Isaac’s injury.  Hosea kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure Isaac was still behind him.  He swayed every once in a while, since breathing too deep or twisting too far in the saddle sent sharp pains up his body, but soon they were approaching Horseshoe Overlook again.  He was glad to see it, completely exhausted.

“Who’s there?” Javier called.

“Hosea!”

“Good!  You’re back!  You’ll never guess what happened!”

“What?” Hosea said, but Isaac didn’t care, so he kept riding.

Isaac hitched Apollo, leaving the pelt on his back because he was just too tired to carry it over to the tent.  He stumbled over to his cot, well, it was his pa’s cot technically, and flopped down onto it.  It still smelled like his pa, more than he remembered, actually.

“Well, looks like you two had a successful hunt,” Dutch said, standing in the entrance.  “You seem tired.”

He groaned and shoved his face deeper into the pillows.

“Yes, very tired, I’d say.  You didn’t even notice your father sitting by the fire.”

Isaac sat up fast, too fast.  He clutched at his side as he said, “What?”

“Right over there,” Dutch said, pointing at the main campfire.

Isaac scrambled up, running even though the movement pulled at his stitches, hesitating only a second when he saw his father asleep on Charles’ shoulder before deciding he didn’t care.  “Pa!” he shouted, and Arthur only got a second to be awake before Isaac launched himself into his arms.

“Isaac!” Arthur said, wrapping his arms around Isaac and hugging him close.  “Oh, son, I’m so glad to see you!”

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Arthur said, starting to cry.  “Just fine, Isaac.  Are you okay?”

Isaac nodded into his father’s shoulder, trying to keep tears out of his own eyes, but he couldn’t.

“Everything is going to be just fine now, Isaac.  I’m sorry I took so long.  You have a good trip with Hosea?  Where is that old man?”

Isaac couldn’t answer, burying his head deeper into Arthur’s shoulder.  His father simply held him, rubbing his back slow and gentle.

“Arthur?” Hosea said, trying not to immediately interrupt Isaac’s hug with his own.

“Get in here, old man,” Arthur said.  Charles slid out to let Hosea in, and the three of them just held each other for a while.

Eventually, Isaac’s side started to throb again, and he had to sit up.  “Are you okay?” Arthur asked him.

“Yeah, just…”

“Just?”

“Minor injury while hunting,” Hosea jumped in.  “A few stitches, nothing major, I promise.”

“Nothing major, but it needed stitches?” Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes at Hosea.  “What were you hunting?”

“Uh… just a grizzly bear.”

“What?”

“It kind of swiped Isaac with its paw.  No big deal, we took care of it.”

“It what?”  Arthur immediately pushed Isaac onto the log, trying to check on the injury.

“It’s not too bad, Pa, I promise,” Isaac said.

“And we met a real nice man named Hamish.  You’ll like him, Arthur, he invited us back to his cabin for some hunting or fishing sometime.”

“Why did you take him bear hunting?” Arthur asked as Hosea tried to slip away.  “Hold on, get back here!”

“I’m afraid I’ve got things to do, Arthur,” Hosea said.

“Miss Grimshaw!  I’m gonna need that leg!”

“Alright, alright,” Hosea said, holding up his hands in surrender.  “Look, I realize now I might be a little old for hunting the biggest game.  In fact, I got this map of big animals off a feller in a bar.  Well, I stole it off him.  It’s yours, okay?  You can decide the next big hunt with Isaac.”

After checking Isaac’s injury to make sure his son wasn’t about to die on him, Arthur said, “Fine.  I’ll take that map.  I have to rebuild some of my supplies since I abandoned my cart in Tall Trees.”

“We got the bear pelt!” Isaac said.  “Could you- I mean, I was wondering if we could make a coat?  I think it would be neat, wearing the bear that almost… you know.”

“You want to wear the bear that almost ate you?” Arthur asked.  “Sure, I bet we can make something nice out of it.”

“And I got a new horse.”

“Really?” Arthur said, turning around to spot Apollo with the rest of the herd.  “Will you look at that!  You happy?”

“Yeah, he’s a good horse.”

“I knew you’d find one eventually.  Where did you get him?”

“Valentine.  Hosea took me before we went hunting.”

Arthur chuckled.  “First horse, first bear.  Any other firsts I missed?”

“I had- never mind.”

“What?”

“I had some rum,” Isaac said sheepishly.

“What!” Arthur said.  “Who gave you rum?”

“Uh… Pearson…”

“That’s it,” Arthur said, shaking his head at the supply wagon.  “As soon as I’m allowed to walk, he and I are having a conversation.”

“He didn’t force me!” Isaac said, not wanting Pearson to get in trouble.  “And it was disgusting.  I don’t know how he drinks that stuff.”

Arthur softened, just a little.  “Don’t worry, I’m only kidding,” he lied.

Isaac’s smile morphed into a yawn, and Hosea chucked, “I think someone could use a nap.”

For once, Isaac agreed, but he wasn’t ready to leave just yet.  “I’ll just stay here,” he said, using his father as a pillow.

“Well, as long as you’re comfortable,” Arthur said, running his fingers through Isaac’s hair.  Isaac relaxed more, his eyes heavy after the ride home.

“You sure you’re alright, Arthur,” Hosea asked, finally sitting down next to them.

“I’m fine.  Just tired.  And I got blisters all over my leg, but I’ll be okay in a few days,” Arthur said.  “Are you alright?”

“Better now,” Hosea said.  “Those mountains didn’t do my lungs any favors.  And I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Arthur said.

“You’re not allowed to disappear on me again.”

“Don’t worry, I ain’t trying to,” Arthur laughed.  “So, what’s the plan?”

Isaac had been about to fall asleep, but he forced his eyes open just a bit.  “For now, make money and lie low,” Hosea told Arthur.  “Try to head west, find some land.”

“Are we going to make it back west?” Arthur asked.

“I think so,” Hosea said.  “As long as we stick to the plan.”

“And will we?”

Hosea looked around to make sure none of the other gang members were listening.  “You’re not thinking about leaving, are you?”

Isaac forced himself not to react, but it was difficult.  Leave the gang?  His father would never do that!  The gang was pretty much their entire lives.  Isaac could barely remember living a different way.  Whenever he thought about his mother, the little cottage he knew they’d lived in morphed into tents and wagons.  But instead of dismissing Hosea’s question, Arthur said, “Maybe for a bit, until things calm down.  I know it’s bad timing, but after Mac?  And Davey, and Jenny?  I’m scared, Hosea.  What if the Pinkertons find camp and something happens to Isaac?”

“I understand,” Hosea said.  “Things have been good for now, and we haven’t run into trouble with the law since we got here.  But if you get worried, you have my blessing to go.”

“I don’t want to,” Arthur said.

“I know, son, I know,” Hosea replied.  “We can talk about it again once you have a good rest.”

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed.  “I need it.  Crawling around in the woods with Sean.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine.”

“He’s growing on me,” Arthur reluctantly admitted.  “Like an annoying little brother.”

“Like when you first met John?”

“John had the excuse of being twelve,” Arthur laughed.  “But I guess John is sort of mature now.”

With Hosea and his father relaxing and turning to jokes, Isaac finally let himself take a nap.

Over the next few days, Isaac recovered and fell back into a normal routine.  He moved into a tent with Lenny and Sean again.  Susan returned his father’s wooden leg to him, and they started hunting with Charles almost every day.

Camp was quiet.  The only major event involved their resident O’Driscoll named Kieran, who finally gave up Colm’s location after being tied to a tree for a while.  John, Bill, and Javier went to take care of Colm.  Only Colm wasn’t there, so Dutch’s feud was forced to continue.  Isaac wasn’t sure what to think when Kieran was allowed back into the gang, and for the most part avoided him.

  He was having fun, though, and loved taking rides across the Heartlands and challenging Lenny and Sean to five finger fillet games.  In secret, of course, no way his pa and Miss Grimshaw would approve.

“Hey, Isaac, can we talk a minute?” Arthur asked him one day.  Isaac froze, remembering his pa’s conversation with Hosea.  They weren’t leaving, were they?  Things were getting better around camp.  More food, more supplies, they even started splurging on camp improvements.

“Sure,” Isaac said, putting down the bear pelt.  His pa was guiding him through making his own coat, and even took him bison hunting with Charles to get more material for the back.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

This was definitely going to be about leaving.  Isaac wasn’t ready.  “Everything okay, Pa?” he asked, trying not to sound nervous.

“Just fine, Isaac.  I just wanted to talk with you in private.”

Well, that wasn’t reassuring him at all.  But the conversation did not go in the direction he thought it would.

“So, Isaac, you know I’ve been spending a lot of time with Charles, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Charles and I like each other a lot.  More than… friends.  You know what I mean?”

“Uh, I think?”

“Like… dating.  A relationship,” Arthur said.  “And I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable, because you and Charles are friends, too, and I haven’t ever been in a relationship since you were born.”

“It’s okay!” Isaac said.  “That’s- it’s great, actually.  Charles is nice, and he helped me a lot with hunting and in the mountains.  It’s fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Isaac insisted.  “Though, I’m surprised.  I didn’t know, I mean, you and another man… I didn’t know you liked men like that.”

Arthur chuckled.  “I guess I’m a little surprised myself.  But I do like him, so I guess I have to give it a shot.”

“And Charles likes you, too?”

“Yeah, he does.  We talked about it a bit the other night, but I wanted to check with you first.”

Isaac nodded.  “I think it’s great!”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, squeezing his shoulder.  “Hosea and Annabelle are going to be pleased.  I think they had a bet going.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes.  They are very invested in it.”

Isaac smiled wide as they walked back to camp.  It was still early, sure, but he really did like the idea of Charles becoming part of the family.

Chapter Text

Two weeks after Arthur returned to the gang, an angry Micah Bell stormed into camp.  Arthur was at the scout fire, having a quiet conversation with Charles at the time.  They kept their budding relationship rather private, mostly talking and getting to know one another.  Annabelle and Hosea would sometimes ask Arthur if they’d kissed yet, and while they hadn’t, Arthur was certainly thinking about it.

Charles seemed fine with the slow pace, though Arthur seriously hoped he wasn’t misreading the situation.  And maybe he was thinking about asking.  If everything was good.  And for a kiss.

But then Micah showed up.

“So, you’ve had a good time, haven’t you?” Micah spat, stumbling into camp looking worse for wear.  He had bruises on his arms and his shirt had a tear.

“Well, you took your time getting back,” Arthur said.  “What happened to you?”

“I got arrested in Strawberry!” Micah shouted.

Thankfully, Arthur was saved from having to deal with Micah when Dutch appeared.  “Mr. Bell, what’s this about an arrest?”

Micah breathed in deep and straightened his spine.  “Got into a dispute with some locals in Strawberry.  Idiot sheriff arrested me, but I escaped.  Wouldn’t have been a problem if I hadn’t been left behind by Morgan and his friends.”

“I’m pretty sure Lenny told you we were leaving,” Arthur said.

“Did anyone talk to you about the gang?” Dutch asked.

“No, it was just a local problem, with local law,” Micah assured him, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Good.  I’m afraid we didn’t receive any news about your arrest in Strawberry, or we would have sent someone immediately.  How did you escape?”

“They had an O’Driscoll in the other cell,” Micah said.  “When their gang came, I was able to slip away.”

“Should’ve gone with them,” Arthur grumbled.

“What was that, Morgan?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said.

“At least the O’Driscolls don’t leave a man behind,” Micah said.

“So go join them!”

“Enough!” Dutch said.  “Mr. Bell, we were unaware of your arrest and are glad you are back now.”

Arthur scoffed.  “Next time you don’t want to be left behind, don’t stay behind to conduct personal business.”

“Enough, Arthur,” Dutch said, walking off.  Micah rolled his eyes and disappeared into camp.

Arthur sighed and said, “You know, I almost forgot about him.  I guess I was hoping he’d run off.”

“Too bad,” Charles said.  “Want to head out for a bit?”

“Sure,” Arthur said.  “Maybe we could check out one of those legendary animals on Hosea’s map.”

“I was thinking we could just find a private spot,” Charles said.  

They tacked up Boadicea and Taima and took off into the Heartlands.  Bo had a particular bounce in her step, glad to be back on the trail with Arthur.  “Don’t run off on me, girl,” Arthur laughed, trying to bring her down to a steady trot next to Taima.  “I know, I know, you missed this.”

“She missed you, too,” Charles said.  “Isaac took care of her in Colter, but I think she is as restless as you.”

“Me?  Restless?  What are you talking about?” Arthur laughed.

“Come on, up here,” Charles said, leading the way onto one of over the rocky outcrops.  They left the horses a little down the slope, climbing up to look over the Heartlands.

“Damn, what a view,” Arthur said, staring out towards  Emerald Ranch.  “You know, as annoyed as I am to be on this side of the Grizzlies, this place ain’t so bad.”

“I agree,” Charles said, sitting down and patting the spot next to him.  Arthur joined him.  “You’ve never been over this way?”

“No, actually.  For a long time, Dutch and Hosea kept us north near Chicago.  We came down through New Austin once, but never the New Hanover.  You?”

“I usually stayed in the mountains.  Traveling around, doing odd jobs.  Or the odd robbery when work was slow.”

“Where are you from exactly?”

“I’m not sure,” Charles said.  “We lived with my mother’s tribe when I was born, but my parents had to run soon after.  I don’t remember any of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I remember some of the stories my mother use to tell, though not too many details.  Mostly, I remember how much she loved their traditions.”

Arthur nodded, looking down at the dirt.  “I don’t remember much of my mother, either.  But she always liked this one flower.  It only grows in Oregon, so one of the times we were out that way, I found one and took it with me.”

“Is that the flower you have on your table?  In the jar?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said.  “I wish I could have grown up with her.  I wonder if it would have made things better, or if it would have been worse.”

“Worse?”

“My father… wasn’t a good man,” Arthur said.  “Law hanged him when I was eleven.  Guess he finally robbed something worth caring about.  I was on my own after that.  Until Dutch found me.”

“And Isaac lost his mother young, too?”

“Yeah.”  

“Were you close with his mother?”

“Not when she got pregnant,” Arthur joked.  “We became friends after.  I brought her money and helped out with Isaac, especially when he was a newborn, but I wish I’d been there more.  You ever think about being a father, Charles?”

“Not much, but I can see why people enjoy parenthood.  Isaac is a good kid.”

“He looks up to you,” Arthur said.

They sat in silence, watching the pronghorn and a herd of wild horses grazing in the fields below them.  Then, Charles turned to him, staring into Arthur’s eyes.  He asked, “Do you… would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”

Arthur’s eyes flicked down to Charles’ lips, then back up to his eyes when he said, “Yes.”

It had been a long time since Arthur had kissed anybody.  He could count the number of people on one hand.  But the knowledge came rushing back as Charles leaned in.  The kiss was soft, gentle, patient.  Arthur shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Charles’ back.

Charles deepened the kiss and brought his hand up to Arthur’s shoulder, brushing past his cheek into his hair.  Arthur broke off the kiss.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling away.  “I just… not the hair.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you didn’t know,” Arthur said, leaning on Charles’ shoulder.  “And I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Me neither,” Charles said.  

“I’d like to do it again, if you would too,” Arthur said.

“So would I,” Charles said, pulling Arthur down for another kiss.

“You seem chipper,” Hosea said when Arthur got back to camp.  “Good day?”

“Yes, it was,” Arthur replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Did you and Charles have a good time?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arthur said, dumping his satchel on his cot.

“I’m sure,” Hosea said.

“You come over here for a reason or are you just here to ask about my love life?”

“Oh, so you do have a love life!” Hosea said, gasping so loud that Javier looked up from his tent.  “No, I was just checking in to see how you were settling into camp.”

“I like it here,” Arthur said.  “The town is a muddy shithole, but that’s what makes it perfect for us.  And everyone seems pretty happy here.”

“They are.”

“Now if only Annabelle and Dutch could be a little… quieter about it.”

Yes, Annabelle and Dutch were having frequent and rather vocal sex.  John and Abigail moved their tent farther away so spare little Jack the trauma.

“I think Sean and Karen have started something, too,” Hosea said.

“Yeah, that’s been going on since we came back from West Elizabeth,” Arthur said.  “I’m not surprised.  Alcohol does strange things.”

Hosea laughed.  “Want to take a ride out to Emerald Ranch tomorrow?  I’ve heard some interesting stories about the place.  I might take John, too, in case there’s something to rob.”

“Sure, we can check it out.  What sort of stories have you heard?”

“It’s a big ranch, and has put a lot of competition out of business.  The owner is pretty harsh and mysterious, and there may have been a gunfight there at some point, who knows.”

“Interesting.”

“It will be nice to ride out together, just like old times,” Hosea said.

“You ain’t gonna feed me to a bear, are you?” Arthur grinned.

“Maybe.  If we find a hungry one,” Hosea said.  “How’s Isaac doing?”

“He’s almost done with his new coat.  Actually, there’s some material left if you want anything.  New gloves maybe, or boots.  You’re the one who found that monster, after all.”

“I’ll think about it,” Hosea said.  “See if anything I own is getting worn out.”

After Hosea left, Arthur leaned back on his cot and started sketching.  He started with one of camp from his perspective, his right foot ending up in the drawing, too.  Then he moved on to a memory of Isaac stitching the sleeves on his bear coat.  And finally, he found himself sketching Charles.

“You’re good at that.”

Arthur jumped, snapping the book shut.  Mrs. Adler was standing in front of him, arms crossed.  “Ah, you must be Mrs. Adler,” Arthur said, sliding his journal back into his satchel.

“And you’re Morgan.  You’re the one who got his leg chopped off by an O’Driscoll.”

Damn, she was forward.  “Well, a doctor did the chopping, but the O’Driscolls helped it along.”

She nodded.  “What did you do after that?”

“I spent a while laying in bed feeling sorry for myself,” Arthur said.  “Hosea and Dutch helped me feel better, eventually.”

“They killed my husband.”

“I heard.  I’m sorry,” Arthur said, awkwardly.  “You want to sit?”

She did, though she kept staring straight ahead and not at him.  “Have you ever thought about going after Colm?  Getting revenge?”

“No,” Arthur said.  “I’ve mostly avoided him whenever possible.  If something happened to me or Isaac… why, are you thinking about getting revenge?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, whether you want to or not, you have a place here, Mrs. Adler.”

“Call me Sadie.”

“Well, in that case, Sadie, I’m Arthur.”

They shook hands, and Arthur gave Sadie a smile for encouragement.  “I guess I’ll leave you alone, so you can draw more pictures of men.”

“That’s not what- never mind,” Arthur said when he saw the ghost of a smile on Sadie’s face.  She returned to Abigail, helping her with the laundry, and Arthur hoped she would be alright.

He pulled his journal back out and finished his drawing of Charles, then did a quick sketch of Sadie.

 The next morning, Arthur woke up early and saddled Boadicea next to Hosea and Silver Dollar.  John was brushing a giant Hungarian Half-bred with a shaggy mane.  “New horse?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah.  Moose didn’t make it off the mountain,” John said.  “The wolves got him.”

“Sorry.  He was a good horse,” Arthur said.

“He was.  This one is pretty good.  Calm, and strong.  I named him Old Boy.”

“Really?  Old Boy?”

“Shut up, Arthur.”

“You two done bickering?” Hosea said, mounting Silver.

“Come on, let’s go,” John said, giving Old Boy a few oatcakes before following him behind.

Again, Arthur found himself riding across the Heartlands.  And again, he found himself loving the area.  He considered whether or not they could live in this area forever, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to live next to Emerald Ranch.  As soon as they arrived, they were stared at by the workers.

“Alright, time to start talking to folk,” Hosea said.  “Come find me in an hour.”

“Okay,” John said, looking around the ranch.  “Where should we start, you think?”

“Uh, it’s been a while since I’ve been on a ranch,” Arthur said.  “Let’s just get a lay of the land for a bit.  How have you been, John?”

“Better, I guess.”

“Abigail and Jack?”

“They’re okay.  Jack asks about our old camp sometimes.  He doesn’t really understand why we had to move.”

“Yeah, I can see how this is rough on him.”

“I wish we didn’t have to move, too.  I liked Montana.  I felt like we could have stayed there forever, and I…”  John sighed, kicking a rock.  “I was going to ask her to marry me.”

“What?” Arthur said, stopping in the middle of the road.  “You can still ask her, you know.”

“I just… I was going to buy a ring and do it proper, you know?  But after the fire, I spent most of my money replacing our things and then I figured after the job in Blackwater I’d be able to afford something nice.  And now?  We’re back to nothing.”

Arthur’s thoughts drifted to the ring he’d gotten Mary all those years ago.  He saved for months to afford it, even though it was tiny and cheap compared to the others in the shop.  After the last time he saw Mary, she sent the ring to him in the mail.  It was still in the envelope in his trunk.

“So, the horses?” John said, changing the subject and pointing at the man struggling with the young colt.

“Sure,” Arthur said.  He walked up to the man and said, “Need a hand?”

“No, I got it,” the rancher shouted back.

“You sure?”

The colt reared up suddenly, yanking the rancher to the ground.  Arthur called to the horse, speaking in a gentle, soothing voice while John helped the rancher up.  Eventually, Arthur was able to grab the lead and pat the horse on the neck.

“You’re good at that,” the hand said.  “You ain’t looking for work, are you?”

“No, just passing through,” Arthur said.  “This is a pretty big operation.”

“Yes, it is.”

“How long have you been working here?”

“About a year now,” the hand said.  “Though if I’m being honest, I’ve been thinking about moving on.”

“How come?” John asked.

“The place is odd,” the hand whispered, leaning in towards Arthur and John.  “The owner is harsh to us and his own family.  He has a daughter who never leaves the house.  The whole place is creepy.”

“I see,” John said, exchanging a look with Arthur.

The hand’s eyes widened.  “Oh, I shouldn’t be complaining.”

“We won’t tell,” John said.

“Thank you.”

After the hand led the horse away, Arthur turned to John and said, “Interesting.  I bet Hosea will find something here.”

They wandered a little longer before they started looking for Hosea.  They found him outside the large barn, talking to an older man in a stained apron.

“Oh no doubt, I do interesting very well.  It’s trusting I don’t do so well,” the man said.

“Please,” Hosea said, before he looked up and saw Arthur and John.  “Boys, this is Seamus.  “He’s our new partner.”

“I ain’t no such thing,” Seamus said, waving Hosea off.

“Prospective new partner,” Hosea continued.  “If he likes us.”

“Liking ain’t the problem, trusting is, as I said.  Keep your voices down.  I don’t want my boss hearing.  This is a sideline.”

“Course.  Look at us, honest as the day is long.”

Seamus’ eyes drifted between Hosea’s wrinkled face, Arthur’s false leg, and John’s red, angry scars.  “Exactly,” Seamus said, unconvinced.

“I’ll tell you what, let us prove ourselves.”

“You kidding me, Hosea?” John said.

“Good day, Hosea, good luck with your business dealings,” Seamus said, turning away.

“Listen,” Hosea said, chasing after him.  “He’s rough around the edges and can’t hold his tongue, but I swear, you can trust him and trust me.”

“I’m an old man,” Seamus said.

“You’re not old, Seamus.”

“I’m old enough, and you know why I ain’t dead?”

“You don’t trust idiots.”

“Exactly.”

“We’re not idiots,” Hosea insisted.  “Let us prove it to you.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you what.  Old Bob Crawford and his boys just bought a beautiful stolen stagecoach from upstate.  It’s in their barn.  Now, you go get that, and then we can work together.”

“Who’s old Bob Crawford,” Hosea asked.

“An acquaintance of mine.”

“So, you want us to take out your competition?”

And then Arthur, John, and Hosea learned a little too much about Seamus’ cousin by marriage, who he couldn’t stand and certainly was fine with having robbed.

“You boys need me for anything else?” Arthur asked as they rode towards Carmody Dell.

“No, I suppose you can head back,” Hosea said.

“Okay.  Come find me once you get done.  If I don’t see you by tomorrow, I’ll check the jails,” Arthur said.

Arthur took his time going home, deciding to visit Valentine for some ammunition.  Just as he was coming through the pass near Citadel Rock when three men appeared on the ledge above him.

“Well, look what we have here.  That’s a mighty fine horse.  We might need to take that off you.”

Arthur shifted in the saddle, his hand drifting towards his holster.  “No, I don’t think so,” he said, addressing the one he assumed to be the leader, and then his heart jolted.  Green neckerchiefs.  Green.  Irish accents.

“Oh, this one’s got money.  Look at that fancy wooden leg,” another said, and Arthur’s chest tightened.  “Wait a second, didn’t that one feller say-”

Arthur drew his revolver, shooting the leader in the chest.  The other O’Driscolls panicked, bringing up their guns, but their shots all missed him.  Once Arthur managed to kill all three O’Driscolls, he leaned forward over Bo’s neck and said, “Let’s go, girl!”

Boadicea galloped towards Horseshoe Overlook, glad to be running away from the gunfire.  But the memories followed Arthur all the way to camp. 

“I think you need to be punished, have some alone time to think on your actions.”

Spots appeared in Arthur’s vision as Bo burst into the trees.  He couldn’t get a breath into his lungs.

“Arthur, are you alright?” Abigail asked.  Boadicea had stopped next to the hitching post, her sides heaving, and Arthur hadn’t made a move to get down.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice shaking just a little.  “I need to speak to Dutch.  Or Anna.”

“Arthur?” Annabelle said.  “Are you alright?”

“Sorry it’s a bit cramped in there, Arthur.  We had it sized for the lady, after all.”

“Can we talk in private?” Arthur gasped.

“Yes, of course,” Annabelle said, guiding Arthur towards her and Dutch’s tent.  Dutch was sitting on the cot, a book in his hand, but he closed it as soon as he set his eyes on Arthur.

“Son?  Everything alright?” Dutch asked, getting up to let Arthur take his place.

“I’m fine,” Arthur said, but Dutch pushed him onto the cot anyway.  Arthur furrowed his brow as Dutch cupped his hands around Arthur’s cheeks.  “I’ll be fine, I just… I got attacked by O’Driscolls.”

“What!” Dutch said.  He looked up and down Arthur’s arms and torso for any injuries, all while keeping his hold on Arthur.

“I’m fine,” Arthur said again.  “But they were close to camp, and I thought you should know.”

“Did they recognize you?” Dutch asked.

“I don’t know.  They’re dead anyway, so it’s not like they can tell Colm if they did.”

Dutch stood up straight, pacing back and forth in the tent.  “Good.  They don’t deserve to live, running with that man, threatening my son.”

“I’m not counting on him noticing the scratches in that coffin.”

Dutch didn’t notice Arthur’s shudder, but Annabelle did.  “Are you okay, Arthur?”

“I’m fine, Anna, I’m fine,” Arthur said, but when she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a hug, he didn’t mind.  Dutch even stopped his pacing to get on Arthur’s other side.

“Just breathe, son.  You’re safe,” Dutch said.

Arthur tried to believe him.

Chapter Text

Mary wrote to him.  The letter surprised Arthur when he finally returned to his tent after spending most of the night sitting quietly with Annabelle and Dutch.  Arthur had ducked his head when he made the walk across camp, thinking that he was too old to be scared of Colm O’Driscoll.  But he was scared.  Scared to end up in Colm’s hands again.  Scared someone else would suffer because of the feud.

Though, it wasn’t like he left any of them alive to tell the tale.  Maybe years of only dealing with the fringes of outlaw life left him easily rattled by a little gunfire.  

He kept his eyes peeled for more green neckerchiefs when he made his way into Valentine to see Mary, and thankfully didn’t spot any.  From her letter, he knew this wouldn’t be a social call.  Mary was asking for help, directly too, and he worried about what kind of trouble would lead her to reach out to him.

“Arthur, how are you?” she asked.

“I’m alright,” Arthur said.  “How are you?”

“Not so good,” she said, and the whole story came out.

Turned out it wasn’t her in trouble, not really.  Her little brother Jamie had run off with the Chelonians.  Arthur immediately agreed to help, having always like Jamie.  He had his second scare in only a few days when Jamie, completely confused and distraught, pointed his revolver at himself.  Arthur was able to stop him, thankfully, and convince him to return to Mary in Valentine.

“Are you and Mary sweet on one another again?” Jamie asked on the way back after Arthur gave him what he hoped to be good life advice.

“No, that was all over a long time ago,” Arthur said.

“You know her husband-”

“Yes, I know.”  Mary told him that Barry Linton died, and he was sorry for it.  But they’d agreed a long time ago that they didn’t work together.

Once they were back in Valentine and Mary was reunited with Jamie, though, Arthur pulled her aside.  He had a question.

“Mary, you remember what you said when you sent me back the ring?” Arthur asked.  “That if I ever found two people in love who could use it… you still mean that?”

“I do,” Mary said.  “Who did you give it to?”

“I haven’t yet.  My brother, John, wants to ask a girl to marry him.”

Mary squeezed his hand, giving him a smile.  “I would be very happy if John took ring.  What’s her name?”

“Abigail.  They’ve been together for a few years now, and they have a son.  Jack.”

“You have a nephew now, too?” Mary asked.

“Yeah, he’s a good kid,” said Arthur.

“Tell John to take the ring,” Mary said.  “I hope she says yes.”

“I think she will,” Arthur said.

“How is Isaac, by the way?”

“He’s doing good.  Growing up way too fast.”

The train pulled up at the station, and Mary gave Arthur a hug.  “Thank you, Arthur.”

“You’re welcome, Mary.”

He rode home excited to tell John the good news.  A bit of searching in his trunk, and he found it.  The red stone still had a shine to it against the gold band after all those years.  He slipped it into his pocket and went to find John, looking over a map under a tree.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked.

“Mary-Beth heard about a train full of rich folk coming through Scarlett Meadows, and I think I found a way to stop it.  We’ll get an oil wagon, and put it on the tracks.  No conductor wants to get cooked alive, so they’ll have to stop.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’m thinking a small crew for this.  Annabelle has been itching to go on a robbery.  What do you think about Charles as a third?”

“I think Charles will do just fine,” Arthur said.  “He’ll keep a cool head under pressure.  Unlike some of those fools.”

“You’re right about that,” John laughed.

“How was robbing stagecoaches with Hosea?”

“Easy.  We waited until night, and did it real quiet.  No one noticed us, and I got a few hundred from the house,” John said.

“Good,” Arthur said with a nod.  “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, what?”

Arthur pulled the ring out of his pocket and offered it to John.  “Here.  Ask Abigail to marry you.”

“Arthur, what?”  John stared at the ring, but made no move to take it.  “Where did you get this?”

“I bought it,” Arthur said.  “Years ago, to ask Mary to marry me.  She gave it back when she got engaged, but she said if I ever found a couple in love, then I could give them the ring.  I’d be honored if it was you and Abigail.”

“Arthur, I can’t just take this.”

“I’m giving it to you.”

“Arthur-”

“Listen, John,” Arthur said.  “I know it might seem odd, taking someone else’s ring, and I don’t think you need one to get Abigail to agree to marrying you.”

John snorted.

“But you want to do this your way, and I know you’re tired of waiting.  Take it.  Please.”

John sighed, and reached out for the ring.  He held it up and turned it in the light.  “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, I thought so,” Arthur said with a smirk.

“Thank you,” John said.  “It don’t feel like enough to say it, but really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, John,” Arthur said.  “So, are we having a wedding tonight?  Do I need to sober up Swanson?”

“I haven’t asked her yet!”

“She’ll say yes,” Arthur said, patting John on the shoulder.  “Just make sure I’m there for the wedding.  I could see Dutch starting a ceremony as soon as he hears the news.”

“You think Dutch is going to be that excited?  He doesn’t seem that into marriage.  I mean, how long have he and Annabelle been together?”

Arthur chuckled.  “I don’t think Dutch or Annabelle care about ceremonies for themselves.  But you know Dutch loves any excuse to party.  And a wedding?  We’re going to be hungover for days.”

John smiled wide and said, “We should tell him that if he gets married, we’ll party for a week.”

“One marriage at a time!” Arthur laughed.  “So, when are you going to ask her?”

“Soon, I promise.  I just want to do it privately, you know?”

“I do.  Good luck, John,” Arthur said, leaving him to his robbery and proposal plans.  He saw Isaac sitting alone under a tree, since most of the boys were out robbing, a book in his hand.  He was wearing his recently finished bear coat, too.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much,” Isaac said.

“Do you want to visit that Hamish feller who patched you put after that bear incident?” Arthur asked.

Isaac perked up.  “Yes!”

“Well, let’s go!  Saddle up Apollo!  It’s a long ride, isn’t it?”

“Not too bad,” Isaac said, but he scrambled to his feet and grabbed his saddle.

Arthur enjoyed the scenic ride into the mountains with Isaac at his side.  “How are you doing, now that things have calmed down?”

“I’m good,” Isaac said.

“Are you sure?”

Isaac hesitated.  “I miss Davey and Mac,” he finally said.  “I thought… a couple months ago we were going to get a ranch.”

“I know.”

“And now we have to start over.”

Arthur let Isaac trot past him a bit and rubbed the back of his neck.  He knew all of this would be hard on Isaac, and he wanted his son to feel safe.  More than anything.

“I know it’s tough right now,” Arthur said.  “But don’t worry too much.  Blackwater was a mistake, but Dutch wants the best for us.  We will learn from it and not make the same mistake again.”

“I hope so,” Isaac said.

Oh, he had to do right by that kid and keep him safe.

“Hey, there’s the lake!” Isaac said.  Arthur looked down at the blue, shimmering water with a tiny island in the middle.  Smoke rose from a chimney on the east side of the lake.

There was a Dutch Warmblood hitched outside the cabin, and Apollo trotted up to him with his ears pricked.  Boadicea followed along, and Arthur didn’t mind leaving the three horses together.  Isaac leaped onto the porch and knocked on the door.

“Hold on,” a muffled voices said, and then the door opened, revealing an older man with shoulder-length gray hair.  “Isaac!  How are you?”

“This is my pa!” Isaac said, stepping back so Hamish could see Arthur.

“Oh, you found him!”

“Hi, Arthur Morgan,” Arthur said, holding out his hand.

“Hamish Sinclair.  Come on in!” Hamish said, stepping back.  “Nice leg you’ve got there.”

“Thanks.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Blackwater.  How about yours?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, I got this one in Saint Denis about ten  or so years ago.  Right about when I bought this cabin,” Hamish said, gesturing to his home.  “My first one was rather cheap.  This one stays on better, except when Buell decides to throw me.”

“Looks like good craftsmanship.”

“Want to compare?” Hamish asked

Arthur and Hamish sat down in chairs and traded legs.  “Well, that’s pretty fine,” Arthur said.

“You lost the left, and I lost the right,” Hamish said.  

Arthur laughed.  “At least we won’t mix them up!  How did it happen?”

“Cannon ball.”

“Shit!”

“Yeah, I lost it in the war,” Hamish said, giving Arthur his leg back.  “The kid next to me got cut in half, and I didn’t get any gangrene, so all things considered, it wasn’t too bad.  You?”

“An outlaw decided to shoot it with a shotgun,” Arthur said.  “A doctor took care of the rest.  I’ve gotten pretty used to it, and it hasn’t slowed me down yet.”

“Your friend, Hosea, he said you’re a hunter?  And you work with pelts?” Hamish asked.  “I see that bear became a nice, warm coat.”

“Isaac did that himself, mostly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been learning,” Isaac said.

“I started doing it while I was recovering,” Arthur said.  “Now it’s basically my job.”

“And what were you before?”

Arthur hesitated, quickly thinking over his answer.  “A wanderer, mostly.  Did odd jobs here and there.  I suppose I still am a wandering man, just without the odd jobs part.”

“Where have you traveled?” Hamish asked.

“All over the west.”

“You want some coffee?”

Hamish and Arthur spent a good hour exchanging stories from their travels across the country.  Hamish hadn’t gone any further west than Blackwater, since soon after visiting the small town, he stumbled on O’Creagh’s Run and found it to be the perfect spot for his cabin.  And it truly was.

“I get moose that come through here, elk, sometimes bighorns that come down off those hills.  Now that the bear is gone, the wolves might come back, we’ll see,” Hamish said, gazing out the window.  “The lake gets salmon, too, though the Tyrant is known to eat them.”

“The Tyrant?  That’s the fish you want to catch, right?” Isaac said.

“Must be one hell of a fish if he’s eating salmon,” Arthur said.

“He’s a mean as hell Northern Pike!” Hamish said.  “Eats most of what spawns around here, his own kind included.  You want to take a crack at him?”

“Oh, I’m a poor fisherman,” Arthur said.

“Well, I’m great, so together we’ll do okay.  Are you good at fishing, Isaac?”

“We don’t go fishing all that often,” Isaac said.

“Then, I’ll have to teach you!” Hamish said, leading the way out of the cabin and down to the docks.  “Come on, let’s get in the boat!  You mind rowing, Arthur?”

“Not at all,” Arthur said, taking his seat next to the paddles.  “Where are we heading?”

“Take us over there to the right.  We’ll set up ten yards or so off shore.  He don’t keep far away from me, the Tyrant.  Wants me to know who’s lake it is.”

“We’ll get him,” Isaac said.

“Oh, the optimism of youth,” Hamish said with a laugh.  “Now, I’ve been trying to make a lure that this bastard will bit.  I’ve spent years on it, looking for the right combination of feathers, twine, and glimmer.  Let’s see how these work out today.  Take your pick!”  Hamish pulled three shining fishing lures, and Arthur held up one towards the sky, turning it to see how it caught the light.

“These are mighty fine,” he said.

“Now, I haven’t tried any of these yet, so we’ll see what happens.  Might be nothing.  Let’s try out luck casting towards the island.”

Isaac, Hamish, and Arthur sent their lures into the water.  Arthur began to reel slowly, breathing in the crisp mountain air.  It reminded him of Montana, and he was struck with a sudden nostalgia for the ranch they almost bought.

Funny, that was the last time he went fishing, too.  With Hosea, Dutch, and John.  He ended up drawing instead, preferring the scratch of a pencil on paper to the methodical click of the reel.

“Now, keep it moving on the water, that’s it,” Hamish said to Isaac.  “Maybe a little faster.  And give it a flick every once in a while.  You see, when using lures, you have to draw the fish in.  They aren’t food, and if it’s just sitting on the water, the fish know it!  You have to trick them.”

Arthur took a moment to memorize the scene.  Isaac concentrated on his lure bobbing in the water, a slight frown on his face, while Hamish watched his technique with a wide smile.

He would have to draw it later.

“Oh, I got something!” Isaac said, yanking back on the rod and hooking the fish.

“Is it the Tyrant?” Hamish asked.

“Uh, I don’t know.  It doesn’t feel too big,” Isaac said.

“Well, let’s find out!  There, he’s tiring, reel him in!”

Arthur stopped fishing while Isaac brought in his fish, which turned out to be a decent salmon.  “Good job, Isaac!” he said.

“Hey, now we have some dinner for tonight,” Hamish said.  “Let’s see if we can get a few more.”

They didn’t find the Tyrant, unfortunately, but they got a few more salmon before they called it a day.  “You’ll get that fish of yours one day,” Arthur said.

“I guess he doesn’t like these lures as much as I thought he would,” Hamish said, collecting them again.  “I’ve tried all sorts of things: coins, shells, even a medal!  He’s a tricky bastard, that’s for sure.”

“Well, at least you’re learning what he doesn’t like,” Arthur said with a chuckle.

“I suppose.  We’ll try again the next time you visit,” Hamish said.  “Now, are you going to help me gut these fish?”

“You know, the last time we had three giant salmon like this…”

Hamish roared with laughter as Arthur told him all about Copper and his impromptu feast with some of Hosea’s fresh catch.  “That’s a dog for you!  Always looking for food.”

“Yeah, we were sad to lose him.  He was a good boy.  Used to keep me company when I was struggling after my leg got amputated.”

“I had a dog for a bit,” Hamish said.  “I found him lost in the mountains, probably got separated from his owner.  Buell didn’t like him, though, so I ended up giving him to a kid in Valentine.”

“Buell seems a bit stubborn.”

“A bit?” Hamish said with a laugh.  “That’s putting it mildly.”

Hamish insisted on cooking the fish himself, giving Arthur a chance to look around the small cabin.  There were a few animals mounted on the wall: a buck, a coyote, and a fish.  “You get all these up here?” Arthur asked.

“I did.  I’ve gotten some good hunting over the years.”

“You know, I’ve still got some of that bear if you want me to make you something.  A boot maybe?”

“If you have enough for a pair, we could have a matching set!” Hamish said.

After dinner, Arthur took Hamish’s measurements and jotted them down in his journal while Isaac set up a dominoes game.  They played several rounds, and Isaac won every single one.  Arthur accepted his defeat with dignity.  His son was quick with the all fives games.

Later, when Isaac and Arthur settled down in bedrolls in front of the fire, Arthur sketched the scene in the boat.  When that was done, he added the towering pine trees and mountains in the background.  It really was quiet up at Hamish’s cabin.  Quiet and peaceful.

When they returned to camp the next day, with Sean loudly bragging about a simple robbery he went on and Dutch’s gramophone playing loud music, Arthur missed that little cabin.  Part of him wanted to go back.

Chapter Text

Annabelle woke to the sunrise trickling in between the tent flaps.  She groaned and buried her head into Dutch’s chest.  He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her back.

“You awake?” he asked.

“No.”

“That’s too bad,” Dutch said.  “If you are awake, we can do some fun activities.”

“Like what?” she asked with a grin.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” he said, kissing her neck.  “We can’t do them if you’re still sleeping.”

“Stop it,” she said, rolling onto her back.  Laughing, joking, not serious at all.  He knew it, too, following her to kiss down her neck to her collarbone.  “People are starting to wake up.”

“And?  We’ll be quiet?”

“We’re in a tent, they’ll hear us,” she giggled.

“No they won’t!”

“Yes, we will!” Arthur said, his voice muffled as it came through the canvas.

“Shut up, Arthur!” Dutch called back.

“We heard you last night!” Arthur said.

Dutch frowned.  “Oops,” he said.  “I guess we aren’t as discreet as I thought.”

“You think?” she said, still laughing.

“I can’t help it,” he said.  “Though, I suppose we can hold off.  Maybe get a hotel room for the night.”

“Just not this night,” she said.  “I have a robbery to attend.”

“What robbery?”

“John brought me in on a train of rich tourists coming through Scarlett Meadows tonight.”

“Sounds promising,” Dutch said.  He leaned down to capture her lips in his own.

“It should be,” she said.  “After all, rich city folk are terrified of guns.”

“Shall we get some coffee and spare camp and more noises?” Dutch asked.

“Bring me one?  I’m not ready to get up yet.”

“Of course,” Dutch said, swooping in for one last kiss before leaving the tent.

Annabelle stretched her legs, then curled up in the cot again.  She and Dutch were sharing a small, single person cot since their nice, large one got left behind when they abandoned Blackwater.  The gang’s unorganized packing of the wagons left no room for it, but for the moment, they were making do.  She knew Dutch not-so-secretly enjoyed cuddling.

“Here you are,” Dutch said, swooping in with a steaming cup of coffee.  “My lady.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip.  It was slightly burnt, but in a way almost familiar to their camp.  “How are we doing?  The gang, I mean, and heading back west.”

“Oh, Anna, it’s too soon to try heading west,” Dutch said.

“I know, I know,” she said.  “But seriously, how are we doing?”

“We’re making money again, that’s for sure.  The big problem right now is getting past Blackwater.  The mountain passes are treacherous, especially with all our wagons.  I’m still looking at New Austin, though perhaps that is too close to Blackwater.  We could find some land in California.”

“Maybe we could send some of the girls to scout around Blackwater?” she said.  “See how things are?”

“I don’t know,” Dutch said, sitting down on the edge of the cot.  “It’s still too hectic over in Great Plains.  If one of the girls got recognized, what could we do?  We can’t exactly ride into Blackwater.”

It was true, but Annabelle wondered how long they should wait before they try.  And how long could they wait?  They hadn’t come all that far from Blackwater, after all.  But that could be a problem for another day.  “What do you have planned while I’m away?”

“Oh, you know.  Maybe some Miller.  Your favorite,” Dutch said, nudging her side.

“Ah, of course.  So, I go earn us money and you read?”

“I’ll earn the money next time,” Dutch laughed.  “Maybe take a trip into Valentine, see what I can dig up.”

“Maybe I’ll join you,” Annabelle said.  “Now, I need to get up and check in with John.  Make sure everything is good for tonight.”

“Oh, already?” Dutch said.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said, pulling on a pair of jeans and heading outside.

She looked around for John, finding him over by the cliff with his plans.  “Hey, Anna,” John said.

“Morning, John.  We ready?”

“I think so.  I’m going to check with the station to make sure the train is still on time.  Want to meet at the wagon around sunset?”

“Sounds good,” Annabelle said.  “Do we need anything else?”

“Maybe some more ammo?  I plan to grab some dynamite from a fence at Emerald Ranch.”  John unrolled a map.  “I’m thinking we could place the wagon here, just past this bend.  They’ll be going to slow to make the turn, and should give them enough time to see the wagon and stop.  Then, we’ll come out of the woods and take the train.”

“I’ll see you there,” she said.  She had more than enough time to get ready, and figured she should do a few chores in the meantime.  Starting with the dishes, which weren’t done the night before.  Which meant the food residue would be caked onto the plates.  Maybe she should haul hay bales for the horses instead.

“Nice pants.  Haven’t seen those before,” Mrs. Adler, who was next to the food wagon, said.  She didn’t mean it as a joke, rather she was surprised and curious.

“Thanks,” Annabelle said.  “I usually wear them for work nowadays, but skirts were easier with the bandages on my leg.”

Mrs. Adler nodded, starting on the very dishes Annabelle had been contemplating avoiding.  Instead, Annabelle decided to join her.

“How are you settling in?” Annabelle asked her.

“I’m… about how you’d expect,” Mrs. Adler said.  “I lost my husband and all my possessions.  And now I’m living in a camp with the idiot who burned down my house.”

“I’m sorry,” Annabelle said quickly.  “For what the O’Driscolls did, and for the idiot.  I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you.”

“I’d rather make sure he can’t bother me himself,” Mrs. Adler said.

Annabelle hesitated, then said, “I can’t fix your house, but I can take you into town for some new clothes, if you want.”

“I’d like that,” Mrs. Adler said, after thinking for a moment.  “I don’t have any money.”

“Considering the situation, I think we can cover you, Mrs. Adler,” Annabelle said.

“Please, call me Sadie,” she said.

“Of course, Sadie.  How about we head out as soon as the dishes are done.  You can borrow one of the Tennessee Walkers if you want, or we can take the wagon.”

“I’ll ride,” Sadie said.

They tacked up their horses soon after.  Leonardo was happy to get out of camp, tossing his head and dancing in circles while they waited for Sadie.

“Nice horse,” Sadie said, admiring the Arabian.

“He is,” Annabelle said.  “He’s a little skittish, at times, but hasn’t let me down yet.  Did you do a lot of riding up in the Grizzlies?”

“We did some riding, but mostly we drove our wagon down the mountain to get supplies.”  Sadie adjusted her borrowed skirt awkwardly once she was in the saddle.  “Sometimes I would ride out to do hunting when the deer and rabbits decided to avoid our homestead, but most of the time we didn’t need to go far.”

“Did you like living up there in the middle of nowhere?”

“I did.  I grew up on a homestead in the middle of nowhere, so I guess I never cared much for conventional lifestyles.”  Sadie hesitated, then said, “I didn’t get along with most men, particularly those who just wanted a wife to stay at home and cook for them.  Jake… he was different.  We both wanted simple things.  Some land to live on and someone to share it with.  Now I don’t know what’s going to happen.

“Is there anywhere you want to go?  Or want to do?” Annabelle asked.

“I want to kill Colm O’Driscoll,” Sadie said, her face hard and angry.

Annabelle nodded.  “I want him dead, too.  The world would be better for it.  I just don’t want to risk the gang to do it.”

“Arthur said something similar to that,” Sadie said.

“He saved my life,” Annabelle said.  “Colm wanted to kill me to hurt Dutch, but Arthur gave me time to get away.  Knowing that we are all safe is important to Arthur, not revenge.”

With that, they continued to Valentine in silence.  At the general store, Sadie searched through the piles of skirts and dresses before finding holding up a pair of jeans.  Annabelle gave her a smile of approval and a bit of cash.  “Here, for the clothes.  I’ll be in the gun store.”

She browsed a bit in the store for any new guns available, but eventually just bought some extra ammunition for the robbery.  She just finished paying when there was a shout outside, followed by a gunshot.

“What the hell?”  Annabelle ran outside, only to see Sadie aiming at a body on the ground, with a familiar green neckerchief, firing again and again.  “Sadie!” she shouted, grabbing the revolver (when did Sadie even get a revolver?) and wrestling it out of her hands.

“He’s an O’Driscoll!  He deserves it!” she snarled at the corpse.

“I know, but we need to move, now!” Annabelle said, dragging her to the horses as the lawmen, slow to respond as usual, began to emerge from their office.  Once she got Sadie to mount up, Annabelle led the escape away from Valentine and down towards the Dakota River.  

Annabelle pulled Leo up near Flatneck Station, both she and her horse panting from the exertion.  Sadie’s horse wasn’t much better, but the widow didn’t seem affected.  Her face was still tense and angry.  “You alright?” Annabelle asked.

“You should have let me kill them all.”

“There were more?” Annabelle asked.

“In the doctor’s office.  A whole bunch of them.”

“Well,” Annabelle said.  “still, that’s a lot of trouble to cause in town.”

“Are you going to tell Dutch?”

“Maybe not all the details, but he should know there are O’Driscolls in town, too.”  She checked Sadie over for injuries, but didn’t see any on her bright yellow shirt and clean blue jeans.  “Nice outfit, by the way.”

“Thanks.  You were right, easier than a skirt,” Sadie said with a smile.  “I’ve never had luck finding mens pants that fit before, but these are just fine.”

“I’m glad,” Annabelle said.  “The trick is buying them a little big.  You don’t need to worry about them staying up if you have suspenders or a belt.”

“I’ll remember that,” Sadie said.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  You’re a good shot, too.  Maybe we can do some target practice sometime.”

“I have handled a gun before, you know.”

“I know.  I just want to see how good you are,” Annabelle said.  “Shall we head back?”

Later that afternoon, once Annabelle was sure Sadie wasn’t about to kill all the O’Driscolls in New Hanover single-handedly, she went to the hidden oil wagon.  She heard gunshots.  Drawing her own weapon, she crept closer to the sound, only to sigh when she realized it was Sean.  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Going on the raid with you,” Sean said.

“Does John know about this?”

“Sure!”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“No?”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Come on, you’re going to need guns, you’re going to need men.”

“Maybe we have all the men we need,” Annabelle said, checking that the horses were hitched to the wagon correctly.  “This needs to be done calmly and correctly.  You don’t seem to do calm very well.”

“Oh, I can handle myself just fine,” Sean insisted.

Before she could reply, John showed up.  “What are you doing here, kid?”

“I’m coming, John, on the job!”

“I said you weren’t coming.”

“Well, Anna says I am.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Annabelle said.

“Come on, Anna?  John?” Sean said.

John sighed.  “What do you think?”

She considered it.  Sean was young, foolish, and loud enough to warn the train of danger before it even crossed the state line, but without experience, how would he ever grow?  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” she said, even as Sean climbed onto the wagon in the prime position of the gunner’s seat.  “We ready?”

“Yeah, train is due through tonight.”

“Alright then.  Charles?”

“I’m ready.”

“Alright!” Annabelle said.  “Let’s do this!”

She drove the wagon while John hung off the side, directing them towards the train tracks.  “Hey, are all the horses untethered?” Charles asked.

“Think so,” John said.

“Good, they’ll follow on behind us.”

“This shouldn’t be too difficult,” John said to the crew.  “With the wagon blocking the tracks, they’ll stop for sure.  And apparently, the train picks up a new team of guards at the state line, so there shouldn’t be much in the way of guns to deal with.”

“See, this is what I mean,” Sean complained.  “I disappear for a couple of weeks with old Arthur and you cut me out of all the action.”

“Just the action that requires a brain,” John said.

Sean laughed.  “Oh, you’re a funny feller, John Marston.  From what folk say, you had your feet up the whole time playing sick, and fondling that new scar like you’re gonna buy it breakfast in the morning.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Stay close on this, wouldn’t want you getting scratched by a squirrel or something.  That could put you out of commission for the rest of the year.”

“Why do you have to speak so much?  It’s incessant,” Charles said.

“Because I’ve still got some blood in me veins!  You old bastards have forgotten how to live.”

“Too bad Arthur brought you back with him,” John said.

Annabelle chuckled.  “I’m surprised Arthur didn’t leave him in the woods.”

“Arthur is a big softy, we all know it!” Sean continued.  “And maybe he sees something in me you others don’t!  You know, my da always used to say-”

“Not the da, please!” John begged, even as Annabelle and Charles voices similar complaints.

“Fine!  Damn, you three!”

“Here’s good,” John said.  “Stop the wagon over the tracks.  Remember, these are innocent folks.  If we handle this right, no one needs to die.”  They released the horses while John checked the tracks for the incoming train, the rail vibrating just as they started to hear a distant rumbling.  “Alright, we’ll hide in the woods over there, just in case.  We don’t want to be next to this thing if it blows.  Charles, can you handle the driver?  Sean, you look for the baggage car.  Anna and I will deal with the passengers.”

The rumbling grew louder, and the headlight passed over their small covering of trees as the train rounded the bend.  The train blew its whistle when the driver saw the wagon on the tracks, and the brakes screeched when he registered the contents of the wagon.  It halted just before hitting the wagon, still blowing the whistle.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” the driver asked, getting off the train, but Charles was already there to hit him over the head.

Annabelle and John entered the passenger car from opposite ends, John firing a gun into the air.  “Everybody stay calm and nobody’ll get shot!” he shouted over screams from several passengers.  “Let’s go, everything you got!  Money!  Valuables!  Now!”

They had trouble with a few passengers, but a swift hit from Annabelle’s gun got them to empty their pockets.  The bag was filling up fast, and she was pleased with the result so far.  These folk really were rich, though they had to be if they were sailing on a cruise from Saint Denis.

“I can handle this from here,” John said when they reached the last car with much less people.  “You should check on Sean.”

“Alright,” Annabelle said.  Surely there were a lot of bags in the back.  But when she got outside, Sean hadn’t even opened the door yet.

“Found the baggage car,” he said.

“It’s about time,” she said.  But as the door opened, a guard hit Sean over the head with the end of his rifle.  Annabelle barely got her own gun up in time to shoot the man in the head.  More appeared, and she kept firing until the last of the guards were dead.  “You alright?”

“I’m seeing double.”

“Well, now you have twice the chance of hitting something,” she grumbled.

“Ugh, I’m gonna have a right old lump on me head,” Sean said while Annabelle went through the items.  There were several money clips and some expensive jewelry.  “These folks are rich alright.”

“Anna, we got a problem.  There’s two arseholes on horseback,” Sean said.

“Just two?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, they shouldn’t be too hard to deal with,” Annabelle said, taking position along the car.

The lawman shouted, “You men come off the train now, do you hear?  We said you men come out now!”

“Walk away, you fools!” John shouted.  “We got a whole lot less to lose.  Run off, now, and you can live!”

“Hey, there’s a few more of them turning up,” Sean whispered.

“Oh, no,” Annabelle said.

And then the shooting started.

For every man Annabelle downed, two more seemed to take his place.  They were everywhere!  Coming out of the trees on either side of the train.

“We need to get the hell out of here!” John said.  

A few more shots, and they had a hole on the left side of the train.  “Go!” Annabelle shouted, leaping over the railing.  They whistled for their horses and mounted up, galloping back towards New Hanover.  Still, they were pursued, until Annabelle led the way through the trees and fog.

“Whoa, hold up,” she said, once she was sure they were safe.

Sean was smiling and laughing, despite the possible concussion.  “That was fun, real fun.  I can see why they call you the professionals of the outfit.”

“Shut up,” John said.

“At least we made some money,” Sean said as Annabelle tossed their shares to them.  “And what did I get?  Gotta be a hundred dollars here, very nice.”

“I’m glad you had fun,” Annabelle said, a bit sarcastically.

“What now?” John said.  “Was that a set up?  Law turned up real fast.”

“I don’t know,” Annabelle replied, shaking her head.  “I don’t think so, but I don’t like it.  They seemed like locals, but I’m not sure.”

“Think they followed us from Blackwater?” Charles asked.

“I hope not,” Annabelle said.  “I’ll talk to Dutch about it, though.  Let’s split up and head back to camp.”

At least they had some money in their pockets.  Not enough to get west, but it was a start.

Chapter Text

John had a plan.  It involved some sheep herding, a sniper rifle, and a question.  Though, the question had less to do with the gang and more to do with making his family official.

Abigail would say yes, right?  Arthur seemed pretty sure she would.

He thought about what to say a thousand times over the last few days, and he still didn’t know if he should make a big show and speech about it or just simply ask.  The big show seemed more like Dutch’s style.  Dutch would have poetry prepared.  John didn’t think Abigail cared about such things, but he still wanted to make it special.  Maybe some flowers?  Yeah, flowers.  He should pick some flowers.

“Are you alright, John?” Hosea asked.  “Keep pacing like that, and you’ll split this overlook in half.”

“Sorry, I’m fine, just got a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Could you watch Jack for a bit?” John said.  Jack was drawing in the dirt with a stick, thoroughly distracted until John said his name.

“Where are you going, Pa?”

“I thought I’d do something nice for your mama and get her some flowers,” John said.

Jack’s face lit up.  “You should make her a flower necklace!”

“I’m not sure how to do that,” John said.  

“It’s easy!  Aunt Tilly taught me how to do it.  Let’s get some flowers!” Jack said, running off towards the woods.

“Hold on, wait for me!” John said, running after him while Hosea laughed.  They collected a few handfuls of flowers and brought them to rock near the edge of camp.  Jack grabbed the flowers and began making the chain, and John copied him as best as he could.  They had two necklaces of drastically different quality when Abigail found them.

“There you two are!  What’s going on?”

“We made you necklaces, Mama!” Jack said, running over with the perfect necklace while John’s started to fall apart in his hands.

“Oh, isn’t that pretty.”

“Well, you get one necklace, at least,” John said sheepishly, holding up his handful of flowers.  “Jack, you might have to fix this one for me.”

She laughed.  “I appreciate it, but your son is a little better at this.”

“I know,” John laughed.  “Come on, let’s sit by the overlook.”

There was a rainbow out from an earlier shower, which  Abigail and John both paused to appreciate while Jack fixed John’s necklace.  But he had to ask fast, before he lost his nerve, so he turned to Abigail and said, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It sure is.  This is nice, John.  A perfect day.”

“Well, I’m hoping to make it a little better,” he said, pulling the ring out of his pocket and turning to her.  “Will you…”  John slid off the rock and knelt in front of her.  “Will you marry me?”

“What?”

“I know we live together and everything, but I want to make it official.  Proper, in front of God.”

“Are you serious?” Abigail asked, a smile growing on her face and her eyes brightening.

“I got this ring, I’ve been wanting to get one for a while now, and Arthur helped me out.  Take it.  It would make me very happy.”

“Yes, yes of course!” she said, pulling John into a kiss and wrapping her arms around him.

“Ew, gross,” Jack said, noticing the kiss.

Abigail giggled as they broke off the kiss.  “Oh, come here you silly boy,” she said, inviting him into a hug.

“You might have to get used to us kissing every once in a while,” John said.  “Your mama and I are getting married!”

“You are?” Dutch shouted as soon as he heard the news.  John and Abigail went to him first, figuring it was the fastest way to announce to the entire gang that they were engaged.  “Everyone!  John and Abigail are getting married!  Susan, sober up the reverend!”

“Dutch, let’s plan this out, maybe?  Buy some beers for a party, I don’t know,” John laughed.

“What’s this about a wedding?” Hosea asked, appearing at his side.  “Oh, it’s about time!  Honestly, what were you waiting for, John?”

“Hey!”

“Told you Dutch wanted a party,” Arthur said, sliding up next to them.

“Oh, Arthur, thank you for helping John.  It’s a beautiful ring,” Abigail said.  Before they told Dutch, John explained the story of the ring and Mary.  He got nervous midway through, worried she wouldn’t want it.  But she didn’t mind.  In fact, she was touched that Arthur thought of them after carrying it for so many years.

“Of course, Abigail,” Arthur said, giving her a hug.  “I told him you weren’t about to leave him, but he wanted to ask all proper.”

“I didn’t think we’d ever… I’m happy, so happy, but I never expected it.”

“Who knew John was a secret romantic!” Arthur teased, turning to John with a grin.

“I was about to say the same about you,” Abigail said.

“Well, we need to do something!” Dutch was telling Hosea and Annabelle and anyone who would listen, really.  “An engagement party, at least!  Tonight!  Come on, we need an excuse.  I was planning on going into town anyway.”

“Do we really need an excuse?” Annabelle asked.  “Though, I am glad for this reason.”

“I had a job I was looking at for today in town, too,” John said.  “Actually, Arthur, can I talk to you about it?”

“Do you have to go now?” Abigail asked.  

John did feel bad about running off so soon, but his plan only worked that day.  “It involves the auction,” he explained.  “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“So, why do you need me?” Arthur asked.

“I need a rifle with a scope.”

“Why?” Arthur asked again.

“Because I need to make a distraction from a distance, okay?  You’re the best shot in the gang, too.  You should come with me on this,” John said, heading towards Arthur’s tent.

“What?  Hold up,” Arthur said.  “What exactly are we doing?”

“You know how everyone in the area hates Emerald Ranch?” John asked.  He’d picked up on the rumor when he and Hosea worked for Seamus, but chatting with a few people in the saloon all but confirmed it.  The auctioneers wouldn’t think twice about some new ranch hands showed up at the auction and, if they did notice, they probably wouldn’t say anything.

“Sure,” Arthur said.

“I need the rifle to scare off the ranchers bringing sheep to auction.  We’ll collect on the sale.  Easy money!”

“You ever herd sheep before?” Arthur asked.

“No.  But how hard could it be?”

“Depends on how spooked the sheep are.”  Arthur picked up one of his rifles.  “Will this do?”

“It should.  Come on,” John said, leading the way to the horses.

“Hold on, why do I have to go on this job?”

“I told you.  You’re the best shot,” John said.  “It’s fine, no one will know you’re involved.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Arthur grumbled, but followed.

“Besides, considering you haven’t set up your store in town yet, you need to earn your keep,” John teased.  The glare he received in return would normally cause him to cower, but he was feeling good that day.

“I’m not selling in town because if those Pinkertons show up, they’ll recognize me,” Arthur said bitterly, and John suddenly felt bad about his comment.  Yet another thing ruined by Blackwater.

“Well, we can have some fun today,” John said, grabbing Old Boy and heading out of the trees.

“I suppose it will be some fun.  I want to see you herd those sheep,” Arthur said with a laugh, following close behind.

“Come on!”

They loped across the Heartlands, heading up onto a ridge to watch for the ranchers.  John leaned over the pommel, binoculars in his hand, scanning the plains.  “There!” he said, pointing at the herd.  “That must be them.”

“Okay,” Arthur said, sliding off Boadicea and crouching down at the edge.

“Put a shot in near them, I reckon they’ll hightail it.  And don’t kill anyone,” John said.  “Just scare them.”

“I know, I know,” Arthur said. 

“And watch the sheep!”

“I haven’t been away from this life for that long!”

“You sure?  It’s been ten years.”

“I can handle it.”  Arthur pulled the trigger once and all the sheep scattered.  Most of the ranchers scattered, too but one stuck around.  “Looks like one of them don’t scare too easy.”

“Put another shot in close, he’ll get the message,” John said.  

Arthur fired again, and the last rancher turned his horse and ran off.  “There he goes!”

“Let’s go round them up!”

Despite John’s confidence, rounding up the sheep proved to be difficult.  Arthur got most of them onto the road, and laughed as John chased down a few strays that didn’t want to be directed.

“Gentle, Marston.  Don’t run at them.”

“Oh, like you could do better.”

“Just leave the sheep to me.  You ride shank, keep watch for any trouble.”

“I brought you in on this!” John shouted back at him.

“It’ll be quicker this way, trust me,” Arthur said.  “This ain’t the right time for you to be learning how to herd.”

“Ten years later and you still think you’re in charge,” John said, but let Arthur do what he wanted.  Besides, the sheep were moving in the right direction, unlike before.  He couldn’t help but think Arthur was a natural at this, like everything else.  Shooting, drawing, crafting, and now herding sheep of all things.  Too bad they never got that ranch.

But when they got to the auction yard, things took a turn.  The men took one look at the sheep and got suspicious.

“Fine sheep,” John said, trying to stay casual.

“They’re okay,” the auctioneer said.

“Well, you seen better round here?” Arthur asked, stepping up next to John.  Always the big brother, trying to take charge.

“I’ve seen ones with less… ambiguity about their provenance,” the man replied.

“What you trying to say?” Arthur asked.  John tried pushing him back.

“Ignore him, he’s new,” John said, glaring at Arthur.

“Seems you both are,” the man continued.  “I’m trying to say you give me twenty five percent kick back and I won’t say nothing to nobody.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur said.

“Sure, I’ll excuse you.  For twenty five percent.”

“Fifteen,” John said.  They weren’t talking their way out of this.

“Twenty.”

“Eighteen.”

“Done.”  He and the auctioneer shook hands, while Arthur kicked the dirt next to him.  John motioned to him to shake on it, too, and reluctantly Arthur did.

“Calm yourself, friend,” the auctioneer said.  “Just think of it as I’m buying your sins.”

“You’re buying, but we’re paying,” Arthur grumbled, but he followed John into town.  “Eighteen percent?  And I thought we was doing the robbing here!”

“Sometime you got to pay a little to cover your tracks, or don’t you remember?” John said.

“I know, I just feel like we got hustled, that’s all.”

“Still good money,” John said.  “Come on, Dutch is waiting for us at the saloon.”

“He is?”

“Come on, sunshine, I’ll buy you a whiskey,” said John, leading the way up the street.

They walked into the saloon, interrupting some flirting between Dutch and Annabelle.

“Don’t mind us,” Arthur said with a smirk.

“Oh, Arthur, where have you been?”

“Working.  Marston’s thing.”

“And?” Dutch asked.

“We’re just waiting to get some pay on a few sheep.”

“After all these years, he’s back to rustling,” Annabelle said, shaking her head and giving Arthur a teasing smile.

“Hey!”

“I brought him in on it,” John said.  “I needed his shooting skills.”

Dutch raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question John further.  “Well, you should probably make sure everything goes alright at the auction.”

John led the way outside and back towards the auction yard.  “I guess he wants some alone time,” he snickered.

But Arthur didn’t get a chance to respond.  Multiple armed men appeared, first grabbing Arthur and then John, dragging them back towards the saloon.  “What the hell?” Arthur said, pulling away from them.

The lawman or security or whatever he was hit Arthur over the head, and John shouted and struggled until a gun was brought up to his throat.  A man in a suit rode up on a Standardbred, calling out, “Van der Linde!  Get out here!”

John’s wide eyes met Arthur’s slightly dazed but clearing stare as they were dragged in place.

“Van der Linde!  You don’t know me, but you keep robbing me.  My name is Leviticus Cornwall.  I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you.”

Cornwall… John knew that name.  Hosea had mentioned stolen bonds from that train robbery in the mountains, though John barely remembered anything about Colter.  It seemed Hosea’s worries about the man were justified, but Dutch would think of something.  And Annabelle was with him, together they’d come up with a plan.

“Get out here,” Cornwall continued, “before I have these men killed!”

There was no movement in the saloon.

“Get out here you depraved piece of trash!  You think I got where I am by letting scum like you rob from me?  Van der Linde, you’re done.  Now get out here, now!”  Cornwall turned to his men when Dutch didn’t appear.  “Deal with this nonsense,” he said, riding away.

John glanced at Arthur again while they were forced to their knees, looking for the confidence he always expected from his brother.  But Arthur looked… wrong.  It took John a second to realize that Arthur was shaking.

His stomach tightened as the guilt rushed through him.  He invited Arthur on this job, told him it would be easy, had been a jerk about Arthur not setting up his trapper stall in town.  But Arthur wasn’t an outlaw anymore and he only just made it back to the gang after weeks of separation.

Where the hell was Dutch?

“Don’t shoot!” Annabelle screamed from inside, putting on her best impression of a frightened girl.  John tensed, getting ready to move.  Annabelle probably learned this technique from Karen, and he knew how effective it would be.  “Please, don’t shoot!  He ran out the back!”

And in the instant the gunmen checked their surroundings, Annabelle moved.  She shot the guard holding John, and John wrenched the gun out of his hands to shoot the one holding Arthur.

Arthur fortunately didn’t freeze, picking up a revolver of his own and stumbling behind a wagon.

“We need to get out of here,” Dutch said.  “Get to the horses!”

“Where are they?” John shouted.

“Other side of town,” Annabelle replied.  “Through the yard, come on!”

“No, we should-”

But Arthur was already following Annabelle behind the buildings, and John wasn’t about to be left behind.

“They’re on the roof,” Annabelle warned, but Arthur was fast, taking down the gunmen and running to Boadicea.  John and Dutch made it soon after.

“John, you make sure nobody’s following us,” Dutch said.  “We’ll get back to camp.  We’re gonna gather the troops and get them to start packing up.”

“Can’t stick around after this,” Arthur said, eyes scanning for more gunmen.  And they were on their way.

“Let’s go!” Dutch said, leading the way out of Valentine.

John didn’t stick around long, just shooting at enough of the men to get their attention before he jumped on Old Boy.  “Let’s go!” he said, ducking his head and pushing the warhorse west towards the Dakota.  A few of Cornwall’s men managed to mount up and pursue, but he shot two off their horses.  He urged Old Boy down a narrow path and into the trees before finally allowing the horse some rest.  He couldn’t hear any more horses heading his way, but he still took his time weaving through the paths and back and forth over the river before returning to camp.

“Pa!” Jack said, running over to him.

“Careful around Old Boy,” John scolded without thinking, but he gathered his son in his arms and held him tight.

“John!”

Abigail was at his side next, wrapping her arms around him.  He held her for a minute, wondering how so much had gone wrong between his proposal and that moment.

He let her go.  There was work to be done.

Most of the tents were down by the time he got there, and the wagons were almost packed.  He saw Annabelle and Dutch immediately, arguing with Hosea in their tent.  Well, Annabelle and Hosea seemed to be on one side and Dutch on the other, but where was Arthur?

“Dutch-”

“What?” Dutch said, turning on John.

“Where’s Arthur?”

“He went with Charles to clear out Dewberry Creek for our new camp.  We need to start heading their now.”

“Dewberry Creek?” John said.  He scouted that place himself, stumbling across the old mill when looking for places to hit the train.  It was open and in a ditch.  “Why there?”

“Micah knew about it, and since we didn’t plan on heading southeast, it’s our best lead.”

“I don’t think it’s a good spot.”

“Do you have a better idea, son?”

“No.”

“Because we should be heading west!” Hosea said.

Dutch sighed.  “I’m aware of that, but we can’t with the way Blackwater is, and now Cornwall on our tail.”

“And why is that again?  Right, you decided to rob that train in the mountains!  We could have hidden over here for months the way things were going, and now we keep heading east.  When does it stop, when we reach Paris?”

“Oh that would be nice.  Join a commune.”

John left them to their fight.  He glared at Micah, who wasn’t lifting a finger to help, checked in with Isaac, then joined Karen in organizing the girls’ wagon.  Trying to get all their possessions into their few wagons was a complicated puzzle that John hated.

“What happened in town?” Karen asked.

“Cornwall brought a damn army because we robbed his train, that’s what happened.”

“I can’t believe we’re moving again,” Tilly said, joining them.

“Me neither,” John said.

Soon, they were leaving Horseshoe Overlook, one of John’s favorite camps since they left Montana less than a year ago.  Jack sat on Old Boy with John, having begged to ride with him, and John paused to take one last look at their camp before following the wagons out.

But before they could get to Dewberry Creek, Charles met them.  “Dutch, we found a good spot for camp along the lake.  It’s a bit far, but it can’t be seen from the road and can be better defended.”

“Well, lead the way,” Dutch said, and they were off.

Chapter Text

Arthur hugged Isaac as soon as he got back to camp, before his son could even ask what happened.  He was still shaking.  He used to shake after working a job, but that was adrenalin.  This was… something else.

“Pa, are you okay?” Isaac asked.

“I’m fine,” Arthur said, squeezing him tight.  “But we’ve got to start packing up.”

“Arthur!” Dutch called, throwing his horse’s reins to a flustered Kieran.  “I need you to look for a new camp.  Micah told me of a place we can lie low.  Dewberry Creek, he said.  You know it?”

“More or less,” Arthur said.

“Maybe you and Charles can go take a look, clear off anyone you find before the whole lot of us move in looking so conspicuous.”

“And how we gonna do that?” Arthur asked.

“I don’t know.  Start dancing?”

“I can’t dance, Dutch.”

“You know what I mean,” Dutch said, though Arthur wasn’t entirely sure.  Scare them?  Bribe them?  Kill them?  He wasn’t exactly feeling intimidating at the moment.  More than anything, he just wanted to stay within the safe confines of camp, but with Cornwall’s men so close, probably Pinkertons, too, camp wasn’t safe.

They could have put a bullet in his skull.  Him and John.  Right in front of Dutch.

“Charles, come with me.  We got work to do,” Arthur said, shoving away those thoughts.  At least he was going with Charles.

“Of course,” Charles said, grabbing Taima.  “So where are we going?”

“Find a new spot to camp.  We’re packing up and moving on.”  Arthur led the way out into the Heartlands, trying to focus, but bitter thoughts kept sliding into his brain.

“Again?” Charles asked.  “What happened in Valentine?”

“Cornwall happened.  That rich feller whose train Dutch robbed found us in Valentine,” Arthur said.

“That doesn’t sound too good.  Are you alright?”

“Me?  Fine,” Arthur lied.

“So, we’re heading south?”

“Yeah, area called Dewberry Creek.  Dutch wants us to give it a look, make sure it’s clear and a good place to lie low for a while.”

Charles said thoughtfully, “I’ve only known him a few months, but the way he talks, I never thought I’d see him wanting to head south.”

“Yeah, we’ve always avoided it.  Heard too many stories about the folk down there.  Though I ain’t sure if we’ll end up lying low.”  Considering both Colter and Valentine, they weren’t very good at it.

“Yeah, there’s too many of us for that,” Charles agreed.

“And as much as we may want to, we need money and supplies,” Arthur said.

“But wasn’t the gang going to settle down at one point?  Dutch is always talking about a ranch.”

“Yeah, we were,” Arthur said.  Now, especially, he felt the loss of the land they were planning to buy.  Where they were going to be safe and live out their days as ranchers.  Where he almost died in that fire, though he didn’t really remember it.

After years of trying to distance himself from the outlaw life, how many times had he almost died in the last six months?  How close did Isaac come to losing his father?

“That’s Dewberry Creek, up there,” Charles said, pulling Arthur out of his reminiscing.  “Seems very open.”

There were barely any trees on the one side, and the hill they were riding down gave a perfect view of the entire dried up creek bed.  “Yeah, it does,” Arthur agreed.  “Ain’t sure it’d be the best in the rain, neither.”

Remnants from the last storm pooled in the lowest areas of the creek, threatening a flood during the next storm.  Arthur couldn’t figure out why Micah had suggested this place.  Either he wanted to ruin their camp or he was an idiot.

“Hey, I see something over there,” Charles said, heading towards a group of birds.  “You see it?  Someone on the ground there.”  

The vultures took off when Arthur rode up, revealing the body.  “He’s been shot.  Looks like trouble got here before us.”

“There’s a camp just up ahead.”

Arthur’s hand twitched towards his revolver, and he said, “Let’s get ready for business.  Any issues, shoot first, debate second.”  Just like Dutch wanted.

“I’m not going to shoot for the sake of it,” Charles said.  Arthur cringed, but he quickly brushed the guilty feeling aside.

The tents were tucked into a few trees in what looked like a gully for drainage.  Another terrible place for camp, but it was abandoned.  Or so Arthur thought, before he pulled away a crate and was faced with the second gun in his face that day.

“Whoa,” Arthur said, backing up and raising his hands.  He resisted the urge to go for his own gun, seeing as it was just a scared woman protecting her children.

“It’s okay,” Charles said, holstering his sawed off shotgun.  “You can come out of there.  You okay?  We don’t mean you no harm.”

Arthur relaxed as he realized the woman wasn’t about to pull the trigger, but he was still on edge.  “He said, are you okay?”

The woman began speaking, but not English.  Great.  They were trying to move camp, and he didn’t know how to explain to the woman that she needed to leave.  “Get out of here, we need the land,” he tried.  She only looked confused.  “Get the hell out of here!” Arthur shouted.

“They took out father!” the young girl said.

“Who did?” Charles asked.

“Men, last night.”  She started to cry, and Arthur looked away.  They didn’t have time for this.  The law would find their old camp soon!

“Where did they take him?” Charles asked.

“Charles,” Arthur started to say.

“What?”

“We don’t have time for this.  And it ain’t business of ours.”

“You ain’t as tough and dense as all that,” Charles said.  “Come on, Arthur.”  Normally, Arthur would agree.  One look at that poor girl, begging him to help, would normally have him halfway across the state already.  But not that day.  Not when there were so many people relying on him to get this right.

But Charles was already walking away, and Arthur wasn’t going to let Charles go alone.  And maybe if they found the father, they could convince the family to get away from what was shaping up to be an unsafe area.

“The girl was pointing this way,” Charles said.  “Let’s see if we can pick up a trail.  What’s going on with you?  You were just going to send them on their way?”

“It ain’t like I want them to lose their father, but we’re wanted men.  We got Pinkertons breathing down our necks,” Arthur said.  “We need to be moving camp, not running off on some wild goose chase.”

“Come on, Arthur, don’t be like that.”

Arthur huffed.  They paused for a moment just over the train tracks to check the trail again.

“So, what exactly happened in Valentine?” Charles asked, glancing over his should back at Arthur with concern.

“I told you.”

“I know, you just… you don’t seem like yourself right now.”

“I guess I just wasn’t expecting it,” Arthur said.  “One minute, John and I were rustling sheep, the next we were surrounded with guns to our head.  Guess it just… surprised me, that’s all.”  Surprised, scared, same thing, right?

“That would be enough to rattle any man.  You’re lucky you and John made it out.”

“Well, Annabelle and Dutch certainly helped with that,” Arthur said.  They turned to follow the lake, and Arthur tried not to think about the cold metal pressing against his skull, threating to orphan his son at any second while Dutch and Annabelle watched, his brother facing the same fate.

He shuddered, and tried to focus on the back of Charles’ head, his long hair swinging back and forth.  Maybe after this move was over, they could sit and have a good talk, maybe more.

Charles’ voice broke him out of his fantasy.  “This way, through the trees.  I think there’s a camp up ahead.”

A field opened up past the trees, hugging the lake.  A nice breeze came in off the water, and a few larger trees provided shade to a sparse camp.  “Seems deserted,” Arthur said when he realized there was no movement around the tents.  But there was still a fire burning in the center.  “Where is this guy?”

“I don’t know, but you know something?” Charles said, looking around.  “This is a better camp spot than back there.  Much easier to defend.”

“Maybe,” Arthur said, and then he finally spotted a man hog tied on the ground.  “Looks like our feller, Charles.”

“Quick, cut him free and let’s get out of here,” Charles said, but it was too late.  Arthur only got the gag out of the man’s mouth when guns fired near the trees.

“Take cover!” Arthur shouted, ducking behind a barrel for his second fight of the day.

“I see three coming this way!” Charles said.

A bullet zipped past Arthur’s ear as he checked for more attackers, forcing him back down.  He tightened his grip on his rifle before moving out of cover again.  One down.  Then another.  But more were coming out of the trees, too many.  Charles was doing his best, as was Arthur, but it wasn’t enough!

He didn’t realize at first when Charles said the last man was making a run for it.  He just kept shooting.

“Arthur, stop!  They’re gone!”

He pulled the trigger again.

Charles placed a hand on his shoulder, but Arthur flinched, so he pulled his hand away.  “Arthur, hey, it’s over.  Arthur?”

Arthur slowly lowered his gun, still watching the tree line.

“Hey, Arthur, can I touch you?”

Arthur nodded, ready this time, and Charles wrapped his arms around him.  “Oh, Arthur,” he said, “I’ve got you, just breathe.”

And Arthur realized just how tight his chest was, and he fell into Charles’ hug.  He dragged the thick air into his lungs with a shudder and said, “Sorry, I’m sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Charles said, a gentle but firm hand rubbing up and down his back.  “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“That’s good.”

“I just… I guess it’s been so long I just… it’s been a long time.”

“I understand.”

Arthur closed his eyes and leaned heavier into Charles.  “Ten years.  I guess I’ve gone soft.”

“You’re not soft, Arthur,” Charles said.  “This isn’t the kind of life people normally have.  It’s okay to not want this.”

Arthur took a few more deep breaths, then he heard a groan behind him.  “We should probably help out that guy.”

“Right,” Charles said.  He waited for Arthur to sit up by himself, then cut the rope around the man’s wrists.  Arthur listened to the man ramble with no idea what he was saying, but he was starting to feel better.  “I’ll get him untied, then go get the others.”

“Yeah, this spot should work for us,” Arthur said.  “I’ll take this feller back to his family.”

“You sure you’re up for that?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Arthur said, staggering to his feet.  “See you after.”

“Alright, Arthur.  We can talk more later.”

“Come on,” Arthur said, waving at the German man.  “I’ll take you back to your family.”

Arthur didn’t understand what he said next, or anything he said during the ride back, but he obviously trusted Arthur not to hurt him.  Soon, they were back at Dewberry Creek, and the family was hugging the father.  Before they left the man reached into the wagon and pulled out a gold bar.  Arthur’s eyes widened when he placed it into his hands.  “Thank you,” he said, the only English words spoken so far, but they weren’t necessary.

“You’re very welcome,” Arthur said, eyes still on the gold.  He slid the gold into his satchel and rode back to the lake.  By the time Dutch and the gang showed up, he was much more calm and had managed to clear the bodies.

“Oh, you were right.  This will be perfect for us,” Dutch said as he drove the wagon in, Charles on the seat next to him.  “Hello, Arthur!”

“Dutch.”

Dutch handed the reins to Charles and hopped down.  “Miss Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson, put everyone to work!  Make this place a home.  Well, I don’t know where the hell we are, but we are going to make the best of it.”

Isaac hopped off Apollo, looking around with Sean and Lenny.  “Hey, race you to the dock!” Sean said, taking off, Isaac and Lenny chasing after him.

“Get back here!” Susan shouted.  “You need to unpack this wagon!”

“Are you alright, son?” Dutch asked, eyes full of concern.

“Did John make it back alright?” Arthur asked instead of answering.

“Just fine, I promise,” Dutch said, pointing to the last wagon with John helping Abigail and Jack climb down.  “See?  Though he’s annoyed at losing out on the money.  He was talking about going back.”

“He’d be an idiot to go back for that money,” Arthur said, about to march over to John and demand he stay in camp.

“Don’t worry,” Dutch said, catching Arthur’s shoulder.  “He’s here.  He’s not going back up there.  Trust me.  I’m pretty sure Abigail won’t let him.”

And then Hosea was there, too.  “Nice place.  How did you find it?”

“It was more Charles than me,” Arthur said.  “Some feller got kidnapped for… some reason.  I don’t know, but Charles found this spot when we went to rescue him.”

“You went on a rescue mission while you were supposed to be looking for a new camp?” Dutch asked.

“Uh…”

“Well, this spot seems good,” Hosea jumped in.  “Let’s get set up.  Maybe a wedding tonight?”

“What?” Arthur asked.

“John and Abigail got engaged, remember?”

He almost forgot.  So much happened in only a day.  Arthur laughed and said, “We aren’t having the wedding tonight, are we?”

“Probably not,” Hosea said.  “But soon, I think.  Why don’t you take a break for a bit?  You’ve been moving all day.”

“We have a camp to set up first!” Arthur replied.

Hosea gave him a quick raise of the eyebrow, but let him go.  Really, Arthur couldn’t stop moving.  By the time the gang finished setting up, there wasn’t any time to hunt, so they ate out of the canned provisions in Pearson’s wagon.  Arthur couldn’t eat a bite.  Hosea definitely noticed that, too, after Dutch and Annabelle slipped into their tent to talk.

And then Hosea whispered something in Charles’ ear while looking his way, and Charles walked over to join him.  “How are you?” Charles asked.

“Did Hosea put you up to this?” Arthur said, trying to get attention off himself.

“I was going to come over anyway,” Charles said.

They sat in silence for a while on Arthur’s cot, listening to the complaining and the exploring of the new camp until Arthur said, “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t ready for another fight, and I put us in danger.  I’m sorry.”

Charles didn’t say anything for a moment, just sitting quietly next to Arthur.  Then, he said, “The first time I went on a bank robbery, I thought I was ready.  I was in a crew of four people, hadn’t been with them too long, but they seemed welcoming.  Confident.  The job would make us all rich.”

Charles swallowed, brushing his hair out of his eyes.  When his hand settled back into his lap, Arthur grasped it.

Charles continued.  “It all went wrong.  The law cornered us, and I just froze.  They were yelling at me to fight back, but I couldn’t.  And then when the opportunity came to run, they left me.  I don’t know how I got out in the end.”

“Oh, Charles,” Arthur started to say.

“People are not supposed to be in gunfights,” Charles said.  “And it’s okay to not want this life, because it’s hard.  It’s not normal.”

“And yet here we are,” Arthur said with a chuckle.

“Well, no life seems easy,” Charles said.

“Unless you have money.”

“I suppose,” Charles laughed.  “But I think I understand why you were so upset and angry earlier.”

“I just… I knew we needed to move the gang and I was worried about another distraction.  I’m glad you made me see sense.”

“You’re welcome,” Charles said with a smile. 

Arthur rested his head on Charles’ shoulder, just breathing deep and slow.  “Stay with me tonight?” he asked.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I am,” Arthur said.  “Not for… anything like that.  Just rather not be alone.”

Charles pressed a kiss to his forehead.  “Of course.”

Arthur settled back onto the cot, and he quickly realized a problem.  “Uh, not sure how we’re going to do this,” he said.  The cot was barely large enough for Arthur, and with Charles next to him?  

“Uh, hold on,” Charles said, shifting and trying to snuggle as close to Arthur as he could.  Half his body was hanging off the cot.

“Wait, let me take off the leg,” Arthur said, sitting up again and almost pushing Charles out.

“Is that really going to change anything?”

“It gives us a little more room at least!”  Arthur tossed his wooden leg into the corner.  “Come here.”

Charles laughed as Arthur pulled him back down into the cot, the two of them shifting and snuggling closer until they were both comfortable on the bed.

Sort of.

But that didn’t matter to Arthur.  He buried his head in Charles’ chest, breathing in deep.  He felt safe around Charles, and he could finally release the tightness in his chest.  His voice was muffled, but he managed to say, “Thank you.  I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too,” Charles whispered, kissing him again and relaxing into the blankets.

Chapter Text

Hosea woke up with a cough in his chest, just like he had for the last few months.  He held a handkerchief up to his mouth, clearing his lungs.  Colter was too cold for him, and this southern air was too thick and soupy.  The Heartlands felt perfect, or as perfect as air could get for his old, struggling lungs.

Despite the humidity, this place was alright.  He stretched and got up, looking around their new camp.  He certainly had plans to fish off that pier, but maybe if they could find a boat, they could get deeper to the big fish.  Maybe he could force Arthur to finally learn something, or get John to actually swim for once in his life.  He was worried about Cornwall and his men finding them at Valentine, but he could make the most of this new location.

His eyes landed on Arthur’s tent, the canvas blowing back in the wind as his son started to shift, though something didn’t look quite right.  Wait, was that Charles moving around, too?

Moving and rolling right off the cot.

“Charles?” Arthur said, sitting up, but Hosea was laughing.

Charles groaned from the ground.  “I’m fine.”

“I think you two need a bigger bed,” Hosea called over to them.

“Shut up, old man!” Arthur said, sliding off the cot next to Charles.  But he was unable to stifle his own laughter, and Charles joined in, too.  Honestly, Hosea was surprised they hadn’t both ended up on the ground sooner.  Arthur’s tiny cot was not built for two people.

Then, there was a shout from the other side.  “And what is going on in there?” Dutch asked.

“Not what you think!” Arthur shouted back, rolling his eyes.

Hosea shook his head, and gave his son some privacy.  “Good morning, Bill,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee while Bill poked at his food on the table.

Bill lifted his head and glared at Hosea.  “What do you want?”

“Just saying hello,” Hosea replied, determined not to let Bill’s sour mood ruin his day.  “Everything alright?”

“Marston and Morgan just had to cause trouble in Valentine, didn’t they?” Bill said, frowning at Arthur as the man wandered over for his own coffee.

“Hey, that wasn’t me!” Arthur said, raising his hands in surrender.

“Well, whatever you did, we was going to rob the bank in Valentine!”

“Who?” Hosea asked.

“Me and Karen.  And whoever else we decided would join us,” Bill said.

“Oh, yes, I heard about that.”

“Karen said this bank would be loaded after auction day,” Bill said.

“Well, we ain’t that far away.  Just be careful if you go back to Valentine.  There might still be law hanging around,” Hosea said.

“Huh,” Bill said thoughtfully.  “There’s still a lot to look into, but maybe if we wait until the next auction…”

“Between you and Karen, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Hosea said.  Bill tended to react to things quickly instead of thinking, but Hosea learned that he would get there eventually.

Sometimes with a nudge in the right direction, but eventually.

At least Karen would pick good people to accompany them back to Valentine, if they decided it was worth the risk.  Speaking of, where was she?  Oh, drinking, at their poker table under the tree.  Early in the morning.  He hoped she was better at planning when sober.

“Mr… Matthews,” she slurred.

“How are you, Karen?”

“Just dandy,” she said, raising her beer bottle at Hosea.

“Just don’t let Miss Grimshaw catch you drinking.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that old bag,” Karen said.

“Well, okay then,” said Hosea, continuing on his rounds.  Isaac was next, chopping wood over by the lake.  “How are you, son?”

“Good.”

“You like the new camp?”

“Yeah.”  Isaac brought the axe down and split another log, and Hosea smiled.  It still surprised him to see just how much Isaac had grown.  Sometimes, he still thought of the small boy that Arthur brought back to camp all those years ago, clinging to his leg at one moment and chasing Copper around camp in the next.  They were well past the days when Hosea could scoop Isaac up in his arms, though to be honest, those days had gone rather fast.

He left Isaac to his work, grabbing Silver Dollar to ride up the lake.  Years ago, he’d come this way with Bessie, and wanted to reminisce alone for a moment.  They hadn’t stayed in the South for long.  From what he remembered about the town of Rhodes, it had mostly been desolate due to the war.  As annoyed as he was to be down here, maybe it would be for the best.  They could actually lay low for once.

Unlike in Colter.

It was still a sore spot for him.  Even though he and Dutch talked, and he knew Dutch and Annabelle had many similar talks, he was still annoyed about the Cornwall train robbery.  It put an even larger target on their backs that they didn’t need, pushed them further from the west, and now Dutch was starting to talk about leaving America entirely to solve their problems when they could have just waited!

Silver Dollar tossed his head and side stepped, annoyed at Hosea unintentionally pulling back on the reins.  “Sorry, Silver,” he said, breathing in deep.  No, he wasn’t going to let himself get annoyed at Dutch while on this ride.  Besides, maybe he could swing over to Saint Denis and finally get rid of those bonds sometime.

He passed an old, crumbling stone wall and continued north.  There was one house along the lake, and he wondered who lived there.  It reminded him of Hamish’s house up in the mountains, only larger.  But that certainly was the life, wasn’t it?  Living right on the water, being able to fish whenever he wanted!  Wherever they ended up in the future, they had to be next to a river or lake!

Though, safety was the priority.  Safety, and then a lake.

And then he noticed the boats along the shore.  That’s just what he needed!  “Well, I guess there’s no excuse now.  We’ll get Arthur out here and make him a fisherman for sure!” he said to Silver Dollar.  The horse didn’t understand, instead leaning over for some grass.

He told Dutch about it when he got back.  A peace offering for how he exploded after Dutch told him about Cornwall.  After all, it wasn’t entirely Dutch’s fault that Cornwall found them.  They really hadn’t gone far enough after Blackwater, and focused too much on making money with that train job and some of the stagecoach robberies they had done.  Hell, maybe they were recognized by someone in town!

The idea was planted, and now he just had to wait.  And soon, he saw Dutch chatting with Arthur on the shoreline with a glance in his direction, so he packed his lures with a smile.

“Hey, old girl, come on down here!  Why don’t you show us the creek you’ve been pissing in,” Dutch called from across camp, leading Arthur towards the horses.  “Hey, you don’t look too rosy, old friend.  I thought this warmer weather would-”

“My days of looking good are long over, Dutch,” Hosea said, brushing him off.

“Always dream crushing and bubble bursting, you.  Come on, Hosea, let’s go fishing.  You, me, and Arthur.  Just like old times.”

“Alright, gentlemen, let me show you how it’s done,” Hosea said.  He led the way out of camp again towards the main road, hiding his smile of success.  Catching fish and Dutch required the same technique.  Setting the bait and having patience.

“Why don’t we just fish here?  There’s a whole lake of ‘em,” Arthur said.

“Because I need to get out for a bit, me and the old guard.  Before there was any of them back there, there was us.”

“Don’t let Annabelle know you’re excluding her.”

“I don’t think she’ll mind.  She wasn’t feeling all too well this morning,” Dutch said.  “Stomach problems.”

“That’s too bad, but now we have a good excuse to give her some peace for a few hours,” Hosea snickered.  “But yes, I remember those days, just the three of us.  The curious couple and their unruly son.”

“It feels good here.  You did well finding that spot, Arthur,” Dutch continued.

“More Charles than me,” Arthur said.

“Now, you don’t have to give him all the credit just because you’re together,” Dutch said.

Arthur’s face grew red.  “Just because you and Anna can’t keep quiet don’t mean the rest of us are doing the same!”

“Hey!” Dutch said.

“He has a point, Dutch,” Hosea said, enjoying picking on the other two just a little.

“Now, don’t you two start ganging up on me,” Dutch said.  “We do need to be on the same side once in a while!”

“We’re just teasing,” Hosea started to say, but it was too late.

“When things are desperate, we have to stick with the plan,” Dutch said.  “Make enough money, then find somewhere where nobody’ll find us, where we don’t have to hide.”

Couldn’t they just fish?  “Eh, like where?” Hosea said.

“I got some ideas hatching, but I need you with me, not against me.  Both of you.”

“We’re with you, Dutch,” Arthur said.  “Trust me, I want to get somewhere safe.”

“Still, we do need to make money.  Keep a low profile, especially in the local town.  After Valentine, I want everyone on best behavior here, no trouble!  But start turning over the soil and the rocks, see what turns up.”

So much for lying low.  What did he expect was going to happen?  “Dutch, we have got to be discreet,” Hosea reminded him.

Dutch continued without hearing him.  “Imagine what a slew of rich simpletons there must be down here.  This is perfect for you, Hosea, you’ll be able to play them like a fiddle.”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” Hosea said honestly, “but-”

“No buts, not today!” Dutch declared.  “We fish and we enjoy the day.”

A conversation for later, then.  After Dutch calmed down from the excitement of fishing and spending time together, then Hosea would approach him about lying low.  Any sooner, and Dutch would either completely dismiss him or start an argument.

Hosea stared down the trail, lost in thought.  Dutch wasn’t the easiest man to talk with, but he felt like things had been simpler a few years ago.  It didn’t take nearly as much work to convince Dutch to at least hear him out.

A train whistle blew, bringing Hosea out of his thoughts.  They were past the turnoff for the boats, but before he could say anything, Dutch said, “Looks like law up ahead.  Play it cool.”

Two of the Rhodes lawmen were driving five men in a prison wagon.  Four were in rather normal attire, with work pants and practical shirts covered in the red clay dust common in Lemoyne.  But one man was in a full suit and a fancy bow tie, his eyes brightening when he saw Hosea, Dutch, and Arthur coming up behind him.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Trelawny said.

“Well, look what the cat drug in,” Dutch said, his voice tinged with amusement.

“I seem to have gotten myself in a spot of bother,” Trelawny said.

“Quiet back there,” the sheriff said, banging on the top of the bars.

Dutch smiled.  “Let’s see if we can’t sort this out.”

And he rode straight up to the lawmen.

“How are you, boys?” Dutch said with a wave.

“Fine,” the sheriff replied.

“This is quiet some country you have here.”

“We like it well enough,” the sheriff said, still uninterested in Dutch’s charm.

“Hoagy Macintosh, at your service.”

And that somehow got the sheriff to look up.  “Leigh Gray.  This is my deputy, Archibald Macgregor.”

The train blew its whistle again and started rolling away as Dutch said, “It is good to meet you.”

“You a Scot?”

Inside the prison wagon, some of the men were fiddling with the lock.  Hosea kept his mouth shut.

“Partly,” Dutch said, leaning in and building towards his joke.  “The best part.”

The sheriff and the deputy laughed.  “Of course!”

“Now, tell me sir, what did the silly fancy fop back there do?  Nothing too terrible I trust.”

“He was accused of running a gold mining investment scam.”

Hosea hid his smile.  Classic Trelawny.

“Oh no, no, no, no, I’m sure he wasn’t,” Dutch said, shaking his head.  “He is a magician, I know him.  He’s a fool, but he is not a bad feller.  Now can we-”  

The lock clicked, and the other men began to clamber out of the prison wagon.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Trelawny called after them with fake concern, but the men were already jumping onto the train now rolling away towards Rhodes.

“Shit, the Anderson boys!  I can’t have more scandal,” the sheriff said, twisting in his seat but making no move to get up.  The deputy was the only one to move, hopping off the wagon and drawing his gun.  Hosea raised an eyebrow at the scene, wondering what kind of idiots they’d stumbled onto now.

“Well, allow us to help, my friend,” Dutch said.  “Arthur, why don’t you help the deputy catch that train?”

“Alright,” Arthur said, guiding Boadicea over to the deputy… Archibald, that was his name.  Boadicea was certainly fast enough to catch the train.

“Perhaps we can discuss the foolish magician?” Dutch asked the sheriff.

The sheriff was still flustered, looking between Dutch and the railroad tracks.  “Uh, yes, yes I suppose.  You sure he’s just a magician?”

“Oh, I am sure.  You can hold me to it,” Dutch laughed.

“I guess we should head back to Rhodes.  That’s where Archibald will bring the Anderson boys, if your friend can catch up to them.  Where are you from, sir?”

The almost-empty prison wagon rolled painfully slow down the trail, and Hosea let Silver Dollar aimlessly follow while he listened to and memorized Dutch’s cover story.  They were workers up north in a factory, until it got shut down.  Lost their livelihood, then their homes.  A group of them banded together and decided to head south, hearing such good things about the city of Saint Denis.  They were taking a break near Rhodes after days of almost non-stop travel when they stumbled upon the sheriff himself.

“That is a tough situation,” the sheriff said.  He didn’t seem entirely with it.

He hoped Arthur and Archibald would be back by the time they arrived in Rhodes, but they weren’t there.  Hosea waited outside while Dutch continued to chat with Sheriff Gray.  Where was Arthur?  He shouldn’t have let Arthur take off after outlaws on his own!

But then, he saw Boadicea and another horse trotting down the road, Arthur annoyed and grumbling while Archibald prattled on about… something.  Hosea wasn’t paying attention, because he was looking over Arthur to make sure he was alright.

“Can you grab Anders off your horse and carry him in for me?” Archibald asked.

“Uh, the leg?  Remember?” Arthur said.

“Oh.  Right.”  Archibald huffed as he pulled Anderson off Boadicea’s back himself.  Arthur stayed in the saddle, rolling his eyes.

It was kind of odd, though.  Hosea knew that Arthur could haul heavy weight no problem, and it forced him to give Arthur a second look.  His son just waved him off with a glance in Archibald’s direction that let Hosea know he’d hear the whole story later.  “Hey fellers,” Hosea said instead.

“Mr. Gray, we got him!”

“Very good,” Sheriff Gray said.

“I told you Arthur would be helpful!” Dutch said.  “The man has a passion for justice.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“So, about my friend here,” Dutch said, pointing at Trelawny.

“Your idiot friend is free to go,” Sheriff Gray said, unlocking the wagon.  “But no more trouble from you, partner.”

“I promise you, this was all just a big misunderstanding,” said Trelawny, giving the sheriff a little bow.  “However, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“I’ll pretend to appreciate that,” Sheriff Gray said before turning to Dutch.  “Mr. Macintosh, it’s been a real pleasure.  The mostly good citizens of Rhodes, we welcome you.”

Dutch shook the man’s hand, and Hosea could see the wheels spinning in his head.  “Well, we’re just honored to be here.”

“And make your friend behave.  We got enough trouble from some of the residents.  Old timers who’ve gone sadly to seed and lost their dignity.”

“How terrible,” Dutch said, before turning to leave.

“Come back and see us sometime soon,” Sheriff Gray said, before turning to the kid sitting on the porch.  “Now, Beau, these better just be nasty rumors.  Were you seeing that wretched Penelope Braithwaite?”

Once they were out of earshot, Hosea said, “Are you alright, Arthur?”

“Oh, just fine.  Me and ol’ Archibald had a bit of a disagreement, that’s all.  Seems he thought that by giving him a ride I’d also jump onto the train for him.”

“You didn’t, did you?” Hosea said.

“Of course not!  You know how long it’s been.  I’m not even sure if I can jump onto a moving train like that anymore.  Archibald wasn’t too keen on it, either.”

Dutch roared with laughter.  “Oh, sounds like lawmen alright!  Perfectly happy to take credit for the work of bounty hunters and concerned citizens.”

“And he weren’t too happy when I lassoed that Anderson guy off the train.  Apparently I could have killed him,” Arthur said sarcastically.  “How dare I deprive them of a poor fool to hang.”

“Well, you’ve gotten a good look at this town,” Trelawny said.  “The people here are a bit desperate for entertainment.”

“Where have you been?” Dutch asked him.

“Around.”

“And where are you staying?”

“I’m renting.  A caravan on the edge of town, behind the church.  It’s horrible, but no one comes looking.  The whole town is trapped in this interminable feud between the two families.  His lot, Grays, and Braithwaites.”

“Interesting,” Dutch said, and there was that spark again.

“Two old plantation houses and falling out over rebel gold and marrying cousins and not marrying, that sort of thing.”

“I guess we can start poking around, see what we turn up,” Dutch said.

“Dutch, we’re supposed to be lying low,” Hosea reminded him.

“Sure, but maybe we can have a little sport!”

“Lying low might not be a bad idea,” Trelawny said.  “There’s talk of bounty hunters and Pinkerton agents, apparently there’s talk of it in bars in the north and west for five hundred miles.”

Hosea and Arthur exchanged a glance, but Dutch seemed to just brush it off.  Once Trelawny left, Dutch was back on their new topic, assigning Arthur to the Gray’s place and trying to give the Braithwaites to Hosea.  Back to work, he supposed.

At least they did end their day with fishing.

Chapter Text

“Arthur, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure, Annabelle,” Arthur said.  “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thankfully.  I blame the saloon food.”

Arthur chuckled, putting down his journal.  He was writing a letter to Hamish to tell him of his latest fishing adventure with Hosea and Dutch.  He knew Hamish would appreciate that he actually caught some fish, and he wanted to thank Hamish for everything he did.  He included his new address, too.

“What do you need?” Arthur asked.

She hesitated, then said, “I’m worried about this town we’ve found ourselves in.  I’ve never been to Lemoyne, but I’ve heard stories.  And with these two plantation families, well, I’m worried about some members of gang going into town.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Me.  Tilly, Lenny, Charles… maybe even Javier, though I’m not entirely sure.  We’re not safe down here.”

“Is it still like that?” Arthur asked.  “Out west-”

“Tilly said something to me, well, it was private, but essentially she’s worried about the area,” Annabelle said.  “I’ve already talked to Dutch and Susan, so they know not to give any of them a hard time for not contributing money from outside camp as much, but…”

She glanced over to Dutch, and that’s when Arthur realized the second part of the problem.  There was Micah, chatting with Dutch outside his tent.  Dutch had a book open in his lap and looked mildly annoyed to be interrupted by Micah, but not enough to send him away.  “That idiot better not be giving Dutch any more ideas.”

Annabelle sighed.  “You know he’s been trying to get into Dutch’s good graces since Blackwater.  And getting arrested in Strawberry.”

“So, you think he is trying to take the lead on these plantation families?”

“I overheard him.  He just keeps saying how it’s a good idea and that he trusts Dutch to make the right decisions… you know, trying to influence him again.”

“As long as it doesn’t work,” Arthur said.  “Dutch does want me to check out the Gray plantation.  Maybe I’ll do that today, after I go to the post office.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” Annabelle said.  “I would much prefer if you were the one guiding Dutch on this job than that asshole.”

Arthur breathed in deep, trying to calm the anxiety around getting involved with a robbery.  “Of course, Annabelle.”

He didn’t want to talk to the Grays, not after the bad impression he got of the family from Archibald.  But it was that, or let Micah run the show.  The gang needed him to be involved.

He’d much rather be hunting with his son.

He finished his letter, waving to Dutch as he headed out before getting ready to leave himself.  “Hey Isaac,” he called to his son as he passed the main fire.  “What are you up to?”

“Charles is teaching me how to make better arrows,” Isaac said, barely looking up from his work.

“Looks good,” Arthur said.  “Hey, maybe you and Charles can check out some big animals that Hosea told me about.  Well, it’s the map he gave me after bear incident.”

“Really?” Isaac said, sitting up.  “Can all three of us do it?  Together?”

“We’ll see.  Dutch wants me to check out the town, but I suppose after I’ll have time,” Arthur said.

“Okay.”

“Hey, I’m sending a letter to Hamish.  Want to include anything?”

“Sure!” Isaac said, putting down the arrows and running to his tent.

“Is that the guy with the cabin up in the mountains?” Charles asked.

“Yep.”

“The hunter who has a vendetta against a fish?”

“The same,” Arthur said with a laugh.

“Hey, later, do you want to… what’s going on over there?”

Arthur turned in the direction Charles was pointing.  Susan was in a shouting match with Sadie Adler, and knives were being drawn.  “Excuse me,” Arthur said, wandering over to them.  “What the hell is going on?”

Susan ignored him.  “I told you that you’ll be working with Mr. Pearson!”

“And I told you I’m going hunting!” Sadie said.

“You will do as you’re told!” Susan said, going for Sadie’s ear.  Probably to drag her over to Pearson’s supply wagon, just like she used to when she dragged Mac to the wash barrel.  But Sadie wasn’t Mac.  Sadie seemed ready to stab Miss Grimshaw.

“Enough!” Arthur said, grabbing her around the middle.  “What is wrong with you two?”

“I ain’t chopping vegetables for a living!  I can go out hunting or on guard duty, but apparently that’s not my place here!” Sadie said, glaring at Susan.

“You have to prove yourself if you want that, dearie!” Susan shouted.

Arthur rubbed his eyes.  “Look, I need to head into town to send a letter.  How about after we go hunt some deer.”

Sadie’s anger softened, but Miss Grimshaw didn’t falter.  “She’s new here, and the women are under my supervision.  You know that, Mr. Morgan!”

“Ain’t like camp is going to fall apart because Mrs. Adler isn’t chopping vegetables,” Arthur said.  “Besides, I’ve seen Pearson chase away enough people to know better than to disrupt his kitchen.”

“Mr. Morgan-”

“Look, you do a good job keeping the camp in order, Miss Grimshaw, but I don’t think it’s going to fall apart if I take Mrs. Adler out hunting for a few hours,” Arthur said.

It was the pants, he suspected.  Susan had always been rather… traditional.  The only reason Annabelle was spared her opinions was because they were good friends and Susan understood why Annabelle had taken up a more active role in robberies.  They’d all done some adjusting after Arthur stopped working, but Susan still maintained her opinions with the younger women.

“Fine!” Susan said, throwing her hands in the air.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Sadie said.

“No problem.  You got a gun?”

“No.”

“Well, we can stop by the gunsmith, then,” Arthur said.

Isaac ran up to him with his letter.  “Here, Pa!”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few hours,” Arthur said.

Sadie smiled a bit as she joined Arthur by the horses, grabbing one of the Tennessee Walkers they kept around in case anyone needed a spare horse.

“Mr. Morgan!” Pearson said.  “Any chance you can post this letter for me?”

“I’ll take that,” Sadie said, snatching it out of his hand.

“We’ll bring you some meat, too,” Arthur said.

They set out on the trail, and pretty soon, Sadie was unfolding Pearson’s letter to read.

“And why are you doing that?” Arthur asked.

“Because he made fun of my pants.”

“Fair enough,” Arthur said with a chuckle.  

He had to admit, hearing Pearson’s stories about being a ladies man was pretty funny.  “Remind me to never let you see my mail.”

“I want to see that journal of yours.”

“Never!”

Once they were in Rhodes, Arthur sent the letters and set up the mailbox for Tacitus Kilgore.  Rhodes was just as dusty and desolate as it had been the day before, and as they walked towards the gunsmith, Arthur saw familiar horses hitched outside the sheriff’s office.  The Count, Brown Jack, and Baylock were waiting for their owners in the slim shade between the buildings, and as Arthur wandered over, Sheriff Gray fell out the door and into the dirt.

“Uh, hello, Sheriff,” Arthur said.

“Ah, hello,” the sheriff said, his voice slurring and sending the smell of moonshine in Arthur’s direction.  “You here to help, too?”

“No, I was just passing through.  Didn’t know any of them were in town,” Arthur said.  He thought he was supposed to be checking out the Gray family.

“And who is this young man?” the sheriff said to Sadie, and she snorted.

“Oh, Arthur!  What are you doing here?” Dutch asked, stepping onto the porch, too.

“Just doing some shopping before Mrs. Adler and I hunt some dinner,” Arthur said.  “What’s going on?”

“Well, we’ve been deputized!  Here to help Sheriff Gray with a moonshiner problem in the swamps,” Dutch said.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.  “You, Bill, and Micah?  Deputies?”

“Some of us do real work, Morgan,” Micah said.  “Not sewing with the ladies.”

Arthur clenched his fist.  Dutch noticed and said, “Micah, Bill, why don’t you two go ahead with Archibald.  I’ll catch up once I speak with Arthur.”

“Sure, Dutch,” Bill said immediately, climbing onto the wagon, but Micah hung back.

“I’ll wait for you, boss.”

“No, go on with Archibald,” Dutch said.  “Do as you’re told.”

Micah listened that time.

“Something the matter, Arthur?” Dutch asked once he was out of earshot.

“Deputies?  Really?” Arthur asked.

“Hiding in plain sight!” Dutch said with a wide smile.  “These fools have no idea who we are, and considering…”  He gestured towards Sheriff Gray, swaying up the street towards the Rhodes Parlour House.  “Well, I don’t see much cause to worry about being discovered.”

“Okay, but Micah?  Really?”

“What?”

“I don’t trust him, Dutch,” Arthur said.  “Besides, there are others in camp less hotheaded and more experienced.”

“I know, but… you’ve met the people down here.  Micah… blends in better.”

Right.  Hadn’t Annabelle just said basically the same thing to him that morning?  Arthur would much prefer Javier or Charles on a mission like this, but Rhodes was full of racist idiots.  “What about Sean?” Arthur said.

“Sean?  Instead of Micah?” Dutch asked.

“Hey, he’s matured.  A little.”  Mostly because Sean was terrified that Arthur would kill him if he was a bad influence on Isaac, but still, it was something.  “John said he didn’t completely screw up the train job.”

“Huh,” Dutch said, thinking.  “Maybe next time, then.”

Not what Arthur had in mind, but as long as Micah didn’t try acting like a lawman around camp, he didn’t see a reason to throw off the delicate act Dutch had already made with the Gray family.  “Well, you should probably catch up with that wagon.  I’ll check on the Gray plantation tomorrow, see what I can find out.”

“Alright, Arthur,” Dutch said.

After he rode away, Sadie said, “I don’t like that Micah.”

“Me, neither,” Arthur said.  “Come on, let’s get you a gun.”

“So, how are we doing this?  I hold him at gunpoint while you empty the register?” Sadie asked, reaching for the revolver in his holster.

“No!  Are you crazy!” he whispered.

“I thought we was outlaws!”

“Outlaws, not idiots!  We are trying to keep a low profile.”

Arthur and Sadie walked back toward the gunsmith, and suddenly Arthur was conscious of the people watching them.  The people watching Sadie, and pointing at her.  He glared at a few men in the town.  There was a young woman, though, with a fancy, flowery dress and blond hair in gigantic curls that seemed genuinely pleased by Sadie’s appearance.  In fact, she nudged an older woman next to her and smiled appreciatively.

But there were men on the gunsmith’s porch.  “You know, maybe we should go in the side door,” Arthur said.

“Why?” Sadie said.  “I ain’t afraid of those fellers.”

“I’m sure you ain’t, I’m just trying… not to cause a scene in town, you know?”

She huffed.  “Fine.”  But on their way around the side, they were interrupted by the most unusual sight.  

“Please, sir, you’ve got to help me,” the young man said.  He called up to them from the small basement window, long red hair hanging over his eyes and wearing a sailor suit of all things.

“Uh, hello?”

“Please, mister, I’ve been trapped down here,” he said.  “I’ve been kidnapped!  You’ve got to get me out of here!”

“Why are you dressed in a sailor’s suit?” Arthur asked.

“It’s that crazy gunsmith!  He made me dress up like this and chained me to the goddamn bed.  He thinks I’m his kid son.  You’ve got to help me!”

“Alright, alright.  I’ll see what I can do,” Arthur said.  “Well, Mrs. Adler, you wanted action, didn’t you?”

“Not what I thought we’d be doing, but sure,” she said.

“You got a bandanna?”

He quick checked on the porch to see if the men were still there.  They seemed to have moved on, thankfully, but he looked around for a few more seconds before drawing his gun and covering his face.  It had been a while since he held someone up, but he wasn’t about to just leave that man in the basement.  And Sheriff Gray didn’t seem competent enough to handle it.

Arthur pushed the door open, aiming his revolver at the gunsmith.  “Don’t move a muscle,” he said, his voice harsh as he tried to keep it low.  “I want to see what’s in that basement of yours.  Show me.”

The gunsmith was an older man in gun oil stained clothes, his thinning hair betraying the start of baldness.  He glanced towards the basement door and then at the nearest gun, but Sadie said, “Don’t you think about it.”

“Basement, now!” Arthur said.

“There’s nothing down there,” the gunsmith stammered.  “Just my boy, and he’s sleeping.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to wake him up.  Open it!  Now!”

“Alright, alright,” the gunsmith said, unlocking the door.  “I ain’t got nothing to hide.”

They descended the stairs.  The young man in the corner jumped up when he heard them.  “You… you stay away from me!” he said nervously, just before Arthur made it around the corner.  The basement had been turned into a bedroom, with a small bed, a few toys, and a tiny rug covering the cold, stone floor, the image ruined by the clicking and rattling of the chain around the captive’s ankle.

The gunsmith’s entire demeanor changed.  He squared his shoulders and growled, “Now, what’d I tell you about talking to your pa that way?”

“What the hell?” Sadie said.

“Oh, thank god,” the man said when he saw Arthur and Sadie.

“Just what the hell is going on here?” Arthur asked.

The gunsmith spoke first.  “He was being a bad little boy, stealing candy from the store again.  It’s for his own good!”

“I’m not your little boy, you mad son of a bitch.”

Arthur had heard enough.  Even if this was the gunsmith’s son, chaining someone up as punishment?  It was cruel, and Arthur would have done exactly what he did at that moment.  He shot the lock.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” the young man said, running for the stairs while the gunsmith shouted and cried.

“Wait!”

The young man paused, taken aback when the gunsmith broke down into sobs.

“I’m sorry!  Please forgive me.  I know it was wrong.  I just couldn’t face that he was gone.”  The gunsmith pulled a photograph out of his pocket.  “I was teaching Sammy how to hold the rifle proper, out by the river.  The recoil… shot him backwards.  He slipped into the river.  The water pulled him downstream so quick, it all happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do.  I searched up and down the riverbank for days, but I couldn’t find my boy.  I just miss him so much.  And you… you remind me of him.  You look just like him.”

“You’re sick,” the young man said, taking off, but Arthur felt a twinge of pity.  He holstered his revolver, and started up the stairs.

“Wait, we’re just leaving him?” Sadie asked.

“We probably shouldn’t stick around after that shot,” Arthur said.  He spotted a Lancaster repeater in a case and handed it to Sadie.  “Here, I promised you a gun.”

“He should get a bullet for kidnapping,” Sadie said.

“Maybe,” Arthur said, glancing back down the stairs.  The gunsmith was still sobbing.  “And maybe he will, if that kid reports it.  But I don’t think he’ll be doing any more harm.”

“But we’re going to take the cash, right?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Sadie.  “Mrs. Adler, if I don’t know any better, I’d think you wanted a price on your head.”

Sadie pulled the stacks of cash out of the register with a sly grin.  “Well, maybe I’ve got more ambition than you boys.”

“I’m sure Dutch will be glad to see it,” Arthur said.  “Now, can we go hunting?”

“Fine,” she said, following him out.  The law didn’t seem to be coming their way, which was good, and he doubted the gunsmith would report them for the robbery.

They rode to an open field with plenty of deer grazing.  “Alright, show me what you can do,” Arthur said.

And she did just fine.  Hit the deer in the neck, bringing it down fast.  She had no problem hauling it onto the back of her horse, too.  “Well?  Am I approved to go hunting by myself?” she asked, only half mocking him.

“I’ll put in a good word,” Arthur said.  “Oh, by the way, how jobs work.  We split half, and the other half goes to gang savings.  But since this is your first one and it was kind of… spontaneous, I’ll cover your share.”

“I don’t want any charity, Mr. Morgan,” she said.

“Well, think of it as a gift, then.  To welcome you into the gang.”

“Alright,” she said with a smile.

BY the time they got back and dropped the deer off with Pearson, Dutch was back.  Bill and Micah, too.

“How was it?” Arthur asked him.

“Archibald is a bit of a moron,” Dutch said.  “Certainly lazy, too, like you said.  We got into a shootout with this local militia, the Lemoyne Raiders, and he didn’t help at all.”

“Sounds about right, considering he wanted me to jump on that train for him.”

“But we have solidified our position in the local law,” Dutch said.  “Hidden in plain sight!  Now we can start to have our fun.  Have you been to the Gray Plantation yet?”

“No, not yet,” Arthur said, pulling out a wad of cash.  “I did stumble onto a bit of money though.  Mrs. Adler went with me and did just fine.”

“Really?” Dutch said.  “Well, who would have guessed!  I’ll put this into the camp savings.”

“What’s this militia you ran into?” Arthur asked.

“Old Civil War holdouts who can’t get over that they lost,” Dutch said.  “They seem to be hiding out in the swamps and hills around here.”

“Lovely,” Arthur said.  “I was hoping to get away from gun-toting idiots.”

“Oh, there will always be idiots, Arthur, but I am certain we can take advantage of this situation.  Have a little fun.”

“And when are we heading west?”

“Soon,” Dutch said.  “I promise.”

Maybe it was just the bad luck for the last few days, but Arthur didn’t quite believe him.

Chapter Text

Arthur was glad the Lemoyne Raiders were terrible shots.

When he stumbled across two of them hassling a farmer, the Raiders tried to get Arthur to hand over money, too.  Arthur was ready, though, keeping his breathing slow.  The Raider aimed at Arthur, and Arthur shot his gun out of his hand.

They ran away pretty quickly after that.

“Damn, Raiders,” the farmer said.  “Thank you, Mister.”

“This happen often?”

“More and more every year.  Ever since the Grays put that idiot Leigh in charge,” the farmer said.  “Everyone knows the Braithwaites support the Raiders, since the beginning, really, but now they ain’t even trying to hide it!”

“That right?”

“Not like the Grays are any better.  You know half the folk in this town lost their boys in the war, but not the Grays.”

“Interesting.”

“This whole town has gone to hell, but I’m not letting those families chase me away!” the farmer said.  “Anyway, thanks again mister.”

“You’re welcome,” Arthur said, turning Boadicea towards Caliga Hall.  

Why did those bounty hunters have to find them in Montana?  They could have been safe on their ranch instead of in the south surrounded by idiots.

Then again, he never would have met Charles.  Maybe there were some good things to come out of their journey to Blackwater and now Rhodes.

Though, as Arthur pulled Boadicea up next to the guards at Caliga Hall, he wondered if Charles could have made his way up to Montana instead.  The gigantic brick manors, the rows of tobacco fields, the perfectly sculpted hedges… this wasn’t Arthur’s type of place.  But Dutch asked him to be here, and he wasn’t about to let Dutch down.

“Excuse me?” Arthur said to the guards.

“Who are you?  What do you want?” a guard asked.

“This here the Gray plantation?” Arthur asked, already knowing the answer before the guards confirmed it.  “Sheriff’s orders.  He wanted me to have a word with some folk on the property.”

“Dammit, Leigh,” the guard said.  “Look, you can come in, but you ain’t talking with me.”

“Obliged,” Arthur said, riding past the guards and looking for someone who could answer questions.  There was a worker sweeping the porch of the main house.  Hosea always reminded Arthur that the servants and maids were the ones with the most information.  

“Hey, mister.  I’m a student at the local university,” he started, wishing he’d looked around for schools to help with his story.  Hosea was better at this.  “A history student.  Do you have time to talk about the local history of this town?”

“No, sorry.  You might want to ask Beau Gray, though.  Boy has all the time in the world,” the worker said.  “He’s over by the storehouse.”

“Appreciate it,” Arthur said, wandering in the direction the man pointed, past the well-trimmed hedges and the apple trees.  Near the shed, just like the worker said, was a young man holding a book.  A vaguely familiar young man.  “Hey, did I see you at the Sheriff’s office?”

“Excuse me, friend,” Beau said.

“We friends?”

“Not yet, but here’s hoping,” Beau said, still paying attention to his book more than Arthur.  “We don’t get a lot of traveling men here, then suddenly there’s a whole phalanx of mysterious but strangely helpful Yankees around the place.”

Arthur scratched his chin.  Beau was certainly observant.  “Is there?” he asked.

“What are you doing here?” Beau asked.

“I’m just looking for work,” Arthur said.

“Well, looking for something,” Beau said with a sly grin and a knowing look.  “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me?”

Arthur let out a fake scoff.  “What secret?”

“I have a secret of my own,” Beau continued.

“Are you secretly normal?”

“Excuse me?”

Arthur waved him off.  “Never mind.”

“The thing is, I don’t care if you kill the whole lot of us and the Braithwaites,” Beau said.

Arthur was shocked.  If this kid suspected them of foul interests, did the other Grays know, too?  Not that Beau was wrong, but still, for an odd kid he was amazingly perceptive.  “I don’t want to kill anyone,” he replied truthfully.  Dutch might want to rob them, but not kill.

Beau checked around the building for anyone listening, then said, “I love her, you know.”

“Love who?”

“Penelope.  But it’s impossible.”

“Well, love tends to be complicated,” Arthur said.

“She’s a Braithwaite!  I’m Beau Gray, son of Tavish Gray, nephew of Leigh Gray the sheriff, grandson of old Murdo Gray.  We Grays have been loyal to the State and murderers to the Braithwaites for so long now no one can even quite explain why.  Beyond blind loyalty and stupidity.”  Beau started pacing.  “I’m supposed to be loyal to some nonsense, while she… she’s amazing!  She’s like a woman from the future.  She’s like tomorrow, if tomorrow turns out fine.”

“Well, I’m sorry for your predicament,” Arthur quickly interrupted.

“Would you help?” Beau asked.

“I don’t want to get involved in gang feuds,” Arthur said, turning to walk away.  He got some information about the Gray and Braithwaite feud, enough to confirm that the anger ran long and deep.  “Last time didn’t really end well for me.”

“What?” Beau asked.

“Nothing.”

“I’ll pay,” Beau said, and Arthur paused.  “We Grays, we’ve always got money.  No brains, mind, but money.”

Arthur sighed.  The gang could use some more money.  And considering how lovestruck this boy was, maybe some more information about the family could slip out.  “Alright, fine.”

Beau rushed back to his book, grabbing a letter from between the pages.  “I know she loves to sit out in the gazebo on the edge of the Braithwaite property.  Take her this letter and this bracelet.  Please.”

“Alright.  I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, and look out for their guards!  They’re worse with strangers than ours are!”

“Great,” Arthur muttered, grabbing Boadicea and heading towards Braithwaite Manor.  He vaguely knew where it was, having seen the gate and the long line of huge trees along the entranceway while hunting near camp.  Still, when he got to the fence, looking for a way through the fields away from the main house, he found himself astonished by the size of the property, wrapping around most of the peninsula.

At least the fields themselves didn’t have guards.  They were mostly stationed around the house and barn.  Arthur skirted the edge of the massive property, weaving through the trees before spotting the gazebo along the lake, with a young woman sitting inside, staring out at the water and lightly fanning herself.  He crouched low, stepping around the bank until he was certain the guards weren’t looking, and approached.

“Are you Penelope Braithwaite?”

“Why yes, I am,” Penelope said.  She stared up at him with the same curious, intelligent expression Beau had when he figured out the gang’s purpose.

“I’ve got a letter for you, and a gift.”

“A letter and a gift?  Well we don’t even know each other.”

Arthur laughed.  “Well, it’s not from me, it’s from… uh…”

“From Beau!” she gasped, dropping her fan and tearing open the letter.  “Oh, he is so…”

“Strange?” Arthur offered.

“Well, yes, he’s a little strange, but also so human.  The rest of our families are stuck in the Dark Ages, or… well, I don’t know… cave people, perhaps.”  She handed Arthur a glass of lemonade, which he took gratefully.  “Beau’s different, but if they find out, they’ll kill him, and send me to live someplace awful like Ohio.  Have you ever been to Ohio, sir?”

“No, can’t say I have,” Arthur said.

“Well, neither have I, but my uncle has a factory there.  He was sort of the black sheep, on account of having left, but now they tolerate him, because he’s a vicious snob.  Families are… are… they’re something else.”

Arthur chuckled a little, drinking his lemonade.  These two kids were starting to grow on him.  They were from completely different worlds, of course, but they were refreshing compared to Leigh Gray and that awful deputy, Archibald.

“Have you got a family, sir?” she asked.

“I do,” Arthur said.  “I’ve got a son, a bit younger than you and Beau.”

“And you’ll let him marry whoever he wants?”

“So long as they ain’t an ax murderer, sure,” Arthur said.

Penelope gave him a sad, wistful smile.  “I wish my aunt was the same, but she can’t stand me.  I have ideas above my station.”

“That sounds pretty complicated, I don’t quite know what to say,” Arthur said.

“Well nothing to say, except I hope they all rot.”  She hesitated, almost catching herself.  “I don’t, well, maybe a bit.  But here, if you see Beau again, will you give this to him?”

“Sure,” Arthur said.  He was planning to go back there anyway, and even if he wasn’t… well, having a kid made him soft, he knew that.

Arthur left the same way he came in, weaving his way back to Caliga Hall.  He waved at the guards, asking where Beau was, and got directed towards the stables.  Beau was there, brushing a Paint and minding his own business.

“You got my money?” Arthur asked with a grin, leaning on the stall door.

Beau jumped.

“Sure,” he finally said.  “Did she give anything?  For me?”

“Yes.”

“Might I have it?”

He thought about teasing the kid, but the hopeful expression caught him.  “Sure.  Here.  Now, if I’m done running errands, maybe you could tell me a bit about this town.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Beau said as he tore open the letter.  “My god, what a woman!  She’s… this will get her killed for sure.”

“What?”

“Women’s suffrage.”

Having never voted before himself, Arthur didn’t know too much about voting rights rallies.  He was about to get a lesson, though, as he followed an angry, ranting Beau out of the stables and towards town.  He got the gist of things, though.  Rhodes didn’t much care for democratic government or women being involved in that government, and the supposed good citizens that the sheriff had talked about wasn’t below murdering those who spoke up.  And Beau was set to marry his cousin, apparently.

But when they got to the rally, setting up with their wagon outside town, Arthur was impressed.  The women had signs and a wagon.  The woman standing on a rock commanded the crowd well, giving a simple but powerful speech of encouragement.  It reminded Arthur of some of Dutch’s speeches before a big robbery, and he smiled as he imagined Dutch being a politician.

Beau insisted that the women needed protection from the Gray family, though Arthur wasn’t sure he agreed.  They seemed to have it handled.  Besides, would the Gray family really attack one of the Braithwaites, or any other woman, in the middle of town?  But Beau was concerned, and Penelope wanted to march, so Arthur found himself driving the wagon in his first ever protest march next to Olive Calhoon.  She maintained her confidence even as the angry, jeering men surrounded the wagon and the protest, and soon, they were parked outside the bank.

It turned out that the women weren’t the ones needing protection that day, though.  When Beau’s cousins showed up, they were more angry with Beau listening to the speeches than the women giving them.

“Beau, weren’t we just leaving?” Arthur said.

“Who the hell are you?” the moron cousin asked.

“Come on,” Arthur said, heading around the back of the bank.

“Who the hell is that?” one cousin asked the other as Arthur moved as fast towards his horse.

“Follow me, I know a place.  It’s an old battlefield no one goes to,” Beau said, and they took off before the cousins could find their own horses.

“So, were those two the family you were worried about?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, but not all of them,” Beau said.  “If they know about Penelope and me…”

“Everyone knows about Penelope and you,” Arthur said.  “I know about Penelope and you and I have been here all of ten minutes.  Sooner it’s out, sooner it’s resolved.”

“The sooner it’s dealt with, you mean,” Beau replied.  “We’re dealt with.  Our families, the Grays and the Braithwaites, we bury our secrets and we bury them deep.  You know, Catherine Braithwaite’s got a daughter.  No one’s seen her in years.  She weren’t right, and Penelope said they keep her locked up.”

Arthur’s eyes widened.  No wonder the kid was so worried.  If these families could do things like that to their own, well, who knows what else they were capable of.  “And this feud?” he pressed.  “I heard one of your families stole gold from the other and is keeping it hidden.”

“That’s how the story goes, Mr. Morgan, but I fear it’s just that.  A story.”

“How so?” Arthur asked.

“Well, if both families think the other stole from them, one of them has to have the money,” Beau said.  “But my family doesn’t, at least I don’t think so, and Penelope doesn’t think hers has it either.”

“So, which one is the thief,” Arthur finished.

“It’s more likely someone swindled both families and ran off, or they made it up as an excuse to start fighting,” Beau said.

Not the ending Dutch was hoping for, of course.  But the families were still rich and angry with one another, so it wouldn’t be a total loss.

As long as Beau and Penelope didn’t wind up in the middle of it.  Damn, he was really soft.

“If it’s as bad as you say, then you should leave,” Arthur said.

“I will, as soon as I have enough money,” Beau said.  “My family has money, but I don’t.”

“You could rob them and take off,” Arthur suggested, only half joking.

“Very funny,” Beau said, offering Arthur a money clip.

He hesitated, then said, “Keep it.  In case you need to hurry out of here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan.”

“Listen, no more running around with letters, but if you or Penelope need anything, write to Tacitus Kilgore here in Rhodes.  The letter will find its way to me.”

Arthur waved him goodbye and rode back to camp to tell Dutch what he learned.  He spotted Charles on guard duty on the way back, stopping to chat and share the story with him.

“Didn’t know you were such a romantic.  Passing letters for a secret relationship,” Charles said with a grin.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arthur said.  “I was just doing what Dutch said.”

“Sure you were.”

“Still, I should let him know how it went,” he said, before pulling Charles in for a kiss.  “See you later.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Arthur removed Boadicea’s saddle and sent her off with the other horses.  Kieran was grooming his own horse, keeping his eyes glued to the brush.  “How are the horses, O’Driscoll?” Arthur asked.

Kieran jumped.  “Uh, just fine, Mr. Morgan.  And I’m not an O’Driscoll.”

“Just messing with you,” Arthur said.  “They doing alright though?”

“Okay, well, some of them could be better.  I’m worried.  They’ve been through a lot.  If I had some burdock root, I could knock up a poultice, could keep them well and cure some ailments.”

“Burdock root, huh?  Well, I’ll keep an eye out.”

At least the O’Driscoll cared about the horses, even if he was nervous and jumpy.  Arthur had heard of burdock root before, probably from Hosea.  He’d ask Hosea where to find it later.

“Arthur!  How did you get on?” Dutch asked, calling him over from his tent.  And there was Micah, sitting right next to him, leaning against a crate and sharpening his knife.

“Good, I guess,” Arthur said.  “Found out a bunch about these families.  Certainly as backwards and crazy as Trelawny said, but I’m not so sure about this whole stolen gold thing.”

“How so?”

“I mean, they’re rich, sure.  But this feud goes so far back, according to the Gray kid I talked to, and no one is entirely sure why anymore.  Stolen gold might just be a town rumor.”

“And you believe this kid, Morgan?” Micah said.  “People lie all the time.”

“He’s more interested in running away with a Braithwaite girl than protecting his family fortune.  Almost like Romeo and Juliet.  As far as I can tell, if there was buried treasure on his property, he would have dug it up by now.”

Dutch nodded.  “Hosea went over to the Braithwaites place earlier.  The matriarch is running the moonshine business, possibly to make ends meet on the plantation.  Seems unlikely they have a vault of gold for a rainy day.”

Micah glared at Arthur.  “But that don’t mean we can’t still rob both of them.”

“Both?” Arthur said.  “But didn’t you boys become deputies?”

“Considering how drunk Leigh Gray is on a daily basis, I doubt he’ll notice,” Dutch said with a laugh.  “Listen, son, last thing I want is to get us into trouble, but we need money.  Now we have the opportunity here to put ourselves in the middle of something ain’t nobody gonna know we was here.  Because even without us, these fools are gonna kill each other anyway.”

“I don’t know, Dutch,” Arthur said.

“Look, we’ve made contact with both of the families, and now we wait!  Surely, they will have some opportunity for us.  Hosea has gone back to the Braithwaite woman with Sean-”

“Wait, Sean is working with Hosea?”

“You said he’s matured.”

Arthur did say that, but more in the line of replacing Micah as lawman than conning with Hosea.

“Anyway,” Dutch continued, “he’s gone over to the manor to see what work they could have for us.  In the meantime, maybe you can keep talking to this kid, make sure the families don’t suspect us of anything.”

“I just really think we should lie low this time,” Arthur said.

“What do you know about robbing?” Micah asked.

“Listen,” Arthur said to Dutch, ignoring Micah.  “These families have armed guards patrolling their property and most of the town in their employ.  The Gray kid said something about his family killing women at a suffrage rally.  If they figure us out, we’re going to have a fight on our hands!”

“It’s not going to-”

“I don’t want my son in the middle of a war.”

“That ain’t going to happen!” Dutch said.  “Will you just trust me, Arthur?”

Arthur did trust Dutch.  He just didn’t trust Dutch with Micah around.  And he wanted to say as much, but then Jack came running up.

“Uncle Dutch!  There’s a dog!  A dog!”

“What?”  They both turned to see Catahoula Cur wandering into camp.  “Well, will you look at that.”

“Isaac, look!  A dog!” Jack continued, dragging Isaac over.  Isaac crouched down and held out a hand for the dog to sniff, and the dog soon nudged his hand looking for pets.

“Well, where did he come from?” Dutch said.

“I don’t know, he just wandered in.  Hi, my friend, hi.”

“Want to pet him?  He’s friendly,” Isaac said, and Jack did.

“Well, then he’s ours, I guess,” Dutch said.  The dog walked right up to Dutch and sat, nice and calm.

“That’s so great!” said Jack.  “What should we call him?”

“Well, he’s a wanderer.  Probably did something bad.  Cain, his name is Cain.”

“Hey, Cain,” Jack said.  “What did Cain do?”

“A real bad thing, so he never stopped wandering.”

“Arthur, did you pet the dog?” Jack asked.

“I will,” Arthur said.  “Come here, boy.”

He gave Cain a scratch behind the ears, smiling.  He missed having a dog around since Copper passed.  And he did notice how Isaac’s face lit up at the sight of Cain.

Chapter Text

The Braithwaite family asked Sean to burn the Gray tobacco fields.  Sean invited John on the job, as thanks for involving him in the train job.  They came back smelling of smoke and completely exhausted.

The next day, the Gray family asked John, Javier, and Bill to steal the Braithwaite’s prized Thoroughbreds.  They didn’t get much money, and John was annoyed, but Dutch didn’t think it was a problem.

Arthur disagreed, and after another run-in with the Lemoyne Raiders while hunting with Charles and Isaac, he was starting to doubt the wisdom in remaining in the south.

“Dutch, can we talk?” Arthur asked the next day, leaning into his tent after returning from an early morning hunt.  Dutch was reading, again, and Annabelle was laying on their cot, eyes squeezed shut.

“Sure, son.”

“You okay, Anna?” Arthur asked.

“I’ll be fine, just not feeling well today,” she said.

“What is it, son?” Dutch asked.

“I’m just wondering when we are going to head west,” Arthur asked.

“When we get enough money here, of course,” Dutch said.  “We’ve been doing well, but we need a whole lot more for our ranch.  Why?”

“It’s just… it doesn’t seem to be going well, Dutch,” Arthur said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the Grays gave John bad information about those horses.  And have the Braithwaites even talked to Hosea after Sean burned the tobacco fields for them?”

“It’s only been a few days,” Dutch said.  “Give them time!”

“Wait, how much did John make on that horse job?” Annabelle asked, sitting up.  Dutch pushed her back down.

“Not enough,” Arthur replied.  “Less than a thousand, and those horses were worth way more.  They’re using us, Dutch, and once they are done…”

“Oh, I’m sure they are trying to use us, but Hosea can manipulate these fools.”

“Dutch,” Arthur said.  “I’m trying to tell you… I think we should start making plans to head west.”

“We don’t have the funds!  I promise, as soon as we finish up here, we’ll be on our way to our ranch!”

Arthur nodded, unconvinced.

“In the meantime,” Dutch continued, “we have a wedding to plan for!”

“What?” Arthur asked.

“John and Abigail, remember?  They want to do the ceremony!”

Arthur hadn’t realized that.  Then again, with the crates of beer bottles and whiskey coming into camp on Pearson’s wagon and Susan’s obsession with everyone having a wash, should he be surprised that something big was about to happen?

“Is that tonight?”

“Did you forget?” Dutch asked.

“I guess I was out of camp when it got announced,” Arthur said, taking in the frenzy around camp as everyone tried to finish up chores and get organized.  “I’m going to find John and see how he’s doing.”

“Well, considering he’s the one who proposed, I feel like he’s doing just fine,” Dutch said.  “You know, I’m glad we’re having this wedding.  We need to relax a little, after Valentine.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best timing, but Arthur had to agree.  They needed a party, and he was excited to see John and Abigail finally tie the knot.

He passed Susan on the way over, who was rousing the reverend to perform the ceremony, and waved at her.  “He going to be ready?” he asked.

“Mr. Morgan, I am fine!” Swanson said, with only a slight slur in his voice.  “It’s about time those two got married, after all these years.”

“Certainly took them long enough,” Arthur said.

“They’ll be a proper family!”

“And the gang’s not good enough?” Arthur said.

“Don’t make fun, Mr. Morgan.”

“Trying not to, reverend,” Arthur drawled, and Susan had to smother her laughter.

John was next on his visiting list.  His brother was putting on a suit while Hosea fussed over his tie.  “Arthur, finally!” Hosea said.  “How does he look?”

“I think he looks just fine.  Is everyone getting dressed up for this?” Arthur asked.

“Abigail wanted to buy a dress, and it would be odd if she was the only one up there wearing something fancy,” Hosea said.

“I’ll go find a clean shirt,” Arthur said, realizing his still had blood stains from hunting.  “And let Charles know.  When did you decide to get married?”

“This morning,” John said.  “There’s no jobs happening, and we figured we waited long enough!”

“That’s for sure,” Arthur said, and he dodge John’s hand when his brother tried to smack him.  “At least we have enough meat for the stew tonight.”

He let Charles know that he should also find a clean shirt for the wedding, then spent some time distracting Jack so his parents could get ready in peace.  “So, why are they getting married anyway?” Jack asked him.

“Because they love each other,” Arthur said.

“But why do they have to get married to love each other?”

“Uh… I mean… they don’t have to get married.  But they want to.  It’s a tradition, I guess.  You get up in front of your friends and make it official.”

“But everyone already knows they love each other!” Jack said.

“Hey, we get to have a party, okay?  It will be fun!” Arthur said.

“Did you ever get married, Uncle Arthur?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Are you going to get married?” Jack asked, just as Charles walked into the tent.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said as Charles smirked at him.  “Maybe one day, we’ll see.”

“They’re almost ready.  Almost,” Charles said.  “They’re going to do it down by the lake.”

“Marston getting married next to water?  Is he going to go for a swim after?” Arthur joked.  “Well, we better get down there.”

The crowd was starting to gather, but before he got there, he ran into Dutch and Hosea arguing.

“I should walk her down there!  I’m the leader of this gang!”

“Come on, Dutch.  We both know I’m more of the father figure.”

“Gentlemen!” Arthur interrupted.  “Maybe let Abigail decide?”

“Oh… right,” Dutch said.  “Where is she?”

“In John’s tent with Annabelle, getting ready,” Hosea said.

And Abigail came out, in a simple but beautiful white dress and a wide smile.  “Well, look at you,” Arthur said.

“Mama!” Jack said, trying to run up to her, but Arthur caught him in time.

“Hold on, buddy,” he said.  “Let’s not get dirt all over your mama’s fancy dress.  At least not before the ceremony.”

“It’s alright, Arthur,” she said, crouching down and reaching out towards Jack.  “Are you excited, Jack?”

“Sure!”

“Abigail, do you want anyone to walk you down the aisle?” Dutch asked expectantly.

She turned to Hosea.  “Hosea, I’d be honored if you would walk me to the ceremony.”

Arthur managed not to snicker at Dutch’s disappointment.  Annabelle didn’t.

“Alright, Jack, let’s go see your father,” Arthur said, ducking away.

They started soon after.  Susan led Reverend Swanson to their spot along the shore.  Uncle was already drinking.  Kieran, as one of the newest members, volunteered for watch.  Probably to impress Dutch and gain acceptance with the other gang members.  Arthur figured he’d sneak him a little food later, as a thank you.  Kieran was good with the horses, after all.

Dutch, Arthur, and Jack stood in the front with John, and Annabelle waited for Abigail on her side.  Hosea walked with her, the gang members dividing to create an aisle down the beach.  Javier played a soft tune on his guitar, and Abigail couldn’t stop smiling.

“Hey,” John said awkwardly when she got down to them.

“You ready, John?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Swanson took his cue.  “We are gathered here today to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony…”

They exchanged their vows.  Abigail started to cry, and Arthur swore there was a slight quiver in John’s voice, too.  And then Swanson announced them as husband and wife, the cheer went up from the crowd, and the party got started.

“Well, you finally did it, son!” Dutch said, giving John and Abigail a hug.

“Yeah, it took them long enough,” Hosea laughed as he joined in.

“Oh, shut up, old man!” John said.

“Hey, Javier, I think it’s time for some music!” Hosea said.

“Of course!” Javier said.  Everyone joined in singing along, opening beers and whiskey.  Abigail and John got prime seats at the campfire, and John pulled Jack up onto his lap.

“Having fun, Isaac?” Arthur asked after the end of the first song.

“Yeah, I am.”

Sean swooped in with a couple of beers.  “Here you are, Isaac!”

“Uh, what?” Arthur said.

“Oh, you’re here… these are all for me,” Lenny quickly covered, grabbing the beers from Sean.

“Oh, come on, Arthur.  It’s a party!  Let the boy celebrate a bit,” Sean said.

“I won’t drink much, I promise,” Isaac said.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t drinking at fifteen, Morgan,” Sean continued.

Arthur sighed.  Yes, Dutch and Hosea let him drink at fifteen.  And fourteen.  And after one too many drunken fights with strangers, Arthur knew better than to let his son go to a saloon.  But a party, surrounded by friends…  “One.  One drink, for the toasts.”

“Gee, really letting him live, aren’t you,” Sean said.

“I just don’t want him drinking like you do, that’s all,” Arthur said, but he laughed as he settled down on the log next to Isaac.  Dutch got up to give a speech.

“Now, I never thought I’d see this day.  No offense, John,” Dutch said, getting everyone, including John, to laugh.  “I’ve always called us a family, and I’ve never been more proud to see John and Abigail get married.  It’s a beautiful thing, family.  You’ve been partners and parents to young Jack all these years, and now you’re… husband and wife.”

Dutch later denied choking on those last few words, his eyes watering a little.  “You think he’s about to propose?” Arthur whispered to Isaac, who snorted.

“Well, I don’t know how to follow that up,” Annabelle said, wrapping an arm around Dutch’s shoulders.  “Abigail, John, we love you both.  And I am so happy to see you get married.”

“Alright, my turn,” Hosea said.  “I’ve known John since he was a twelve.  He wasn’t always the most civilized of sons…”

“He was a raccoon!” Arthur shouted.

Hosea laughed.  “Arthur, be nice to your brother!  John, I’m proud of the man you’ve become.  And Abigail, you are a wonderful woman.  I’m so glad you joined our family.”

Arthur stood up next.  “Alright, he’s not a raccoon anymore, even if there were some moments when he was a kid that I wondered.”

“Shut up, Arthur!” John said.

“But I have to admit it, he grew up on us.  You’re a good father, John, and I know you’ll be a good husband.”

After the toasts, they moved on to the main party.  Sean and Karen disappeared somewhere.  Isaac grabbed a second drink with Lenny when he thought Arthur wasn’t looking.  Arthur considered saying something, but Charles stopped him.

“He’s in camp and safe.  Let him make mistakes.”

“I’m hoping it won’t be a mistake,” Arthur said.

“First hangover has to happen sometime,” Charles said.

“He better not drink that much!”

Tilly volunteered to watch Jack that night, when the young boy started to nod off.  It gave John and Abigail some alone time later.

“Thank you, Tilly,” Abigail said, giving a sleepy Jack a kiss on the forehead.

“No problem,” Tilly said.  “You two have a good night.”

Arthur was starting to feel a little fuzzy from all the alcohol.  Even Javier put his guitar away, since he had a little too much whiskey to properly play a chord.  Dutch started his gramophone, inviting Annabelle up for a dance.

“Arthur?  Want to dance?” Mary-Beth asked.

“I’m not the best dancer,” Arthur said.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re fine,” Mary-Beth whispered in his ear, leading him towards the center.

They mostly swayed back and forth, with Arthur letting her twirl on his hand as a flourish.  “You having a good night?” Arthur asked her.

“I am,” she said.  “It’s all so romantic, after all this time.  It’s giving me story ideas.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.  A love that goes on for years, but they can’t get married right away.”

“Well, they could have gotten married sooner,” Arthur joked.  “But I’m glad they are now.”

They danced a little longer until Charles tapped on Mary-Beth’s shoulder.  “Mind if I borrow Arthur?” he asked.

“Go ahead,” she said, giving Arthur a kiss on the cheek and winking at Arthur.

“You need something?” Arthur asked Charles.

He held out his arms.  “I thought we could dance.”

“Really?” Arthur said, looking around the camp.  “In front of everyone?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” Charles said, his smile falling a little.

“No, I do!  I just… not everyone knows and I wasn’t sure if you wanted them to know.”

“I figured most of the camp knows by now anyway,” Charles said.  “Dutch, Annabelle, and Hosea know, at least.”

“True, and I don’t care about what the others think as much,” Arthur said thoughtfully.  “I’d be happy to dance with you, Mr. Smith.”

Annabelle made eye contact with Arthur as soon as he took Charles’ hands.  She started whispering into Dutch’s ear.

Arthur ignored them and leaned more onto Charles.  Charles wrapped his arms around Arthur’s back, holding him tighter as they swayed.

Then Micah came over.

“I fucking knew it.  I knew there was something wrong with Morgan.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur said.

“Though I shouldn’t be surprised,” Micah continued, pointing at him with his beer bottle.  “You are basically a woman, doing all the sewing instead of robbing with the men.  No wonder he can’t tell the difference.”

Charles tightened his hold on Arthur, glaring at Micah.

“You know, maybe if we take off-”

“Walk away, Mr. Bell,” Annabelle said.

Micah turned on her.  “You mean you don’t have a problem with these immoral… I don’t even know if I can call them men.”

“No.  I don’t see a problem,” Annabelle said firmly.

“It’s unnatural!  You clearly ain’t thinking this through,” Micah said.

“Excuse me?” Annabelle said.  “I’m not the one being an idiot here.”

“Well, the rest of the gang will agree with me!” Micah said, looking to Dutch.

Dutch put a hand on Micah’s shoulder.  “Now, son, I suppose two men together is rather unusual, if you’ve never encountered it before.  But Arthur and Charles are two fine young men.”

“Boss, don’t you see how wrong this is?” Micah asked, a fake sweetness in his voice that made Arthur want to gag.

“Nothing wrong with it at all!  We’re after freedom, aren’t we?  What is freedom if not being free to love?”

Micah started looking around the others for an ally.  “Reverend Swanson!” he said.  “Surely you and the bible have something to say about this?”

Swanson stumbled over, looking wildly between Arthur and Charles.  “I have never,” he said, with a few hiccups.  “Never in my life… seen a more beautiful union.”

“What?” Micah said.

“I’d marry them right now,” Swanson said.

“See, Mr. Bell?” Dutch continued, “if you just open your mind a little, you will realize-”

Micah was starting to get frantic for support.  “Bill!  Surely you think something about this!”

“We are gathered here today…”

“What’s going on?” John said.  “What are you saying about my brother, you snake?”

“Everyone, calm down!” Dutch tried.

“…to join these two men in holy matrimony…”

Bill shifted awkwardly after getting put on the spot.  “I didn’t know that about you, Morgan.  Huh.”

“But you see the problem, right?” Micah pressed.

“Uh, no?”

“Do you, Arthur Morgan, take Charles to be your husband?”

“I… what?” Arthur said.

“If you have a problem with Arthur, you can get out, Micah!” Annabelle shouted.

“And do you, Charles Smith, take Arthur to be your husband?”

“You want to fight, Micah?  Be my guest,” Charles said.

Dutch got between them.  “No one is fighting tonight!”

“Then, by the power vested in me, by God, I pronounce you husband and… husband!”

“Wait, what?” Arthur said, turning to Swanson.

“You may now… kiss…”

Swanson passed out on the ground.

Arthur looked back at Charles and asked, “Did he just say we’re married?”

Micah stormed off, and Dutch got the crowd to disperse.  Arthur made sure that Isaac wasn’t drunk and wasn’t going to keep drinking before he and Charles disappeared into Arthur’s tent.

“So, uh, fun night, huh?” Arthur said.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked.

“Me?  I’m fine.  Takes more than Micah to annoy me.  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Charles said.  “So, does a drunk Swanson wedding count?”

“In our case, I’d say no.  We didn’t say, ‘I do,’” Arthur said with a chuckle.

“Still, he did pronounce it,” Charles joked.

“Definitely not how I thought tonight would end.”

Charles pushed Arthur down on the cot, removing his wooden leg and crawling on top of him to capture his lips in his own.  “You know, it is our wedding night…”

“A drunk wedding.”

“Still, we could celebrate, if you want.”

Arthur paused and turned his head away slightly.

Charles pulled back and said, “We don’t have to, of course.  I just… never mind.”

“No, wait, it’s not… shit, I don’t know how to say this,” Arthur said.  Charles sat back, letting Arthur sit up.  “I ain’t ever… been with a man before, and, well, there ain’t been too many people at all.  It just hasn’t mattered too much to me.”

“Arthur,” Charles said, squeezing his shoulder.  “We don’t have to, it’s okay.”

“I’m not against sex,” Arthur said.  “I trust you and think… no, I know you’ll make it good.  And I want it to be good for you, too, but I ain’t quite sure what I’m doing.”

“It’s been a while for me,” Charles said.  “We can go as slow as you want.  And stop anytime if you aren’t enjoying yourself.”

“Same for you,” Arthur said.  “If I’m doing something you don’t like, tell me.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” Charles asked, his voice low and seductive.

“I think this shirt needs to go,” Arthur said, fiddling with his buttons. 

“I like that idea,” Charles said, guiding Arthur back down on the cot.

Chapter Text

John tightened his arms around Abigail, snuggling into her.  They decided to spend the night at a hotel in Rhodes, and while the loud ruckus from the bar was annoying, they still got to enjoy some alone time.  And sleep in late in the morning.

“John?  Are you awake?” Abigail asked.

“Sort of, I guess,” he said.

“Should we head back?”

“Abigail, this is our first night to ourselves since… ever!”

“I miss Jack,” she said.  “You think he’s okay?”

“He’s probably playing with the dog and chasing bugs on the beach,” John said.  “Jack is fine.”

“I guess.  But I still miss him.”

“Can we sleep in a little longer?”

Abigail laughed and made no move to get up.  For a while, at least, but they had to return to reality eventually.  John picked her up and placed her on Old Boy, and they made the short trip back to camp.

“So, Arthur and Charles?” Abigail said, arms tight around John’s middle.  “I didn’t even realize they were courting each other!”

“Me, neither,” John said.  “I didn’t know Arthur liked men!”

“I guess we know what they were doing on all those hunting trips,” Abigail said teasingly.

They got back to a very hungover camp soon after.  Tilly was the only one awake, sort of, but only to watch Jack throw sticks for Cain.  “Mama!  Pa!” he shouted, running over to them with his arms wide.

Abigail kneeled down and caught him in a hug.  “Did you have fun with Aunt Tilly?” she asked.

“Uh huh!  We had a great time!”

Then, Arthur wandered out of his tent, looking a little stiff.  John smirked.  “So, are you sore?” he asked.

“Shut up, John.”

“And where’s your husband?”

Arthur rolled his eyes.  “Still in there.  I though I’d let him sleep.  How was your night?”

“It was nice,” John said.  “The Parlour House ain’t too bad, if you and Charles are looking for a place to spend the night.”

“John,” Arthur growled.

“Arthur,” John said with a wide grin.

“John!  You’re back!” Dutch said.  “Could you go see Trelawny?  He’s in a caravan just outside town.  Find out what he knows about these bounty hunters.”

“He just got back, Dutch,” Hosea said.

“I know, but you know how Trelawny is.  I need John to see him.  Take Charles with you.  Oh, the two of you together could make a statue sing out its secrets.”

“Okay, I guess,” John said.  “I’ve got to wake Charles.”

“Let me,” Arthur said.  “You spend a little time with your kid.  I’ll send him over when he’s ready.”

John threw sticks for Cain with Jack for a few minutes while Arthur shook Charles awake and gave him some coffee.  But he couldn’t stop from looking over to Dutch’s tent.  Dutch was pacing in front of his tent while Annabelle tried to talk him down.  He understood why Dutch was nervous, but did it have to be him?

Charles came over soon after, awake but tired.  “Ready?” he asked John.

“Yeah, you?”

“Sure,” Charles said.

They mounted up and headed towards Rhodes.  John considered keeping his mouth shut for a moment, then decided to ask.  “Did you have a good night?”

“It was nice,” Charles said.

“How nice?”

“So, Trelawny,” Charles said, changing the subject.  “I’ve only met him a couple of times, but he’s a strange one.”

“Yeah, he is,” John said.  “But he’s harmless, mostly.  Usually finds us the high paying jobs.  Then, he scurries off.  No one knows where he goes, really.  But he brings in enough money that Dutch doesn’t seem to care.”

John hoped this would be a quick visit to Trelawny.  The man probably embellished the bounty hunter stories that got Dutch so worried.

But for once, Trelawny wasn’t lying.  John just wished he’d found out before the rope tightened around his neck in the middle of a cornfield.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Charles asked for what felt like the tenth time.  Charles rescued him, but his neck throbbed with what would likely be a very purple bruise.

“I’ll be okay.  Just surprised me, that’s all.”

His neck would probably have the same bruises as the last time someone had put a rope around his neck.  At age twelve.  For robbing a homestead.

Arthur spotted them as soon as they returned, and he saw the rope marks, too.  “What happened?” he asked.

“Oh, John,” Abigail said.

“I’m fine.  I’ll be fine, I promise,” John said, his voice rasping a little.  Great, it hurt his voice, too.

“Let me take care of him, Abigail,” Arthur said.  He dragged John over to his tent, waving Hosea over, too.

“It’s not that bad,” John said.

“What happened?” Arthur asked again.

“Trelawny got himself kidnapped by bounty hunters.  Don’t worry, we killed them.  But one of them got a rope around my neck.  Charles saved my life.”

“May I see?” Hosea said.  John nodded, and Hosea gently felt his neck.  “I might have something to help with the bruising and the pain.  Stay here.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, John?” Arthur asked.

John hesitated, then shook his head no.  Arthur squeezed his shoulder.  “We got them all, but if those idiots could find Trelawny, how many more are there?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said.

“I’m worried we didn’t run far enough.”

“So am I,” Arthur said, wrapping his arm around John’s shoulder to give him a quick hug.  “I’m worried we’re making too much noise here.  If the law recognizes Dutch or Micah and alerts the bounty hunters, we’re pretty much boxed in.”

“But what can we do?” John asked.

“I don’t know.  At least we don’t have to worry about Sheriff Gray arresting anyone.  He’s too drunk the use handcuffs.”

John snorted, wincing a little at the pain in his neck when Hosea walked back in.

“Alright, John, let’s see those bruises again.  I have some pain reliever, too.”

“Nothing too strong, right?”

“It’s not bad,” Hosea said.

“Good.  I don’t want to be all fuzzy like after the wolves.”

“Sorry, John, but a little bruising isn’t worth our morphine,” Hosea said, trying to joke.  “But seriously, I’m glad you’re alright.”

For a second, when the rope closed around his neck, John expected that to be it.  He was never more happy to see Charles in front of him.  Except when Javier and Charles came for him after the wolves, maybe.  “Yeah, me too.”

“Are there any other injuries I need to know about?” Hosea asked as he finished up.

“No, that’s it,” John said, letting out a short laugh in relief.

“Good.  Take the rest of the day off,” Hosea said.

A whole day of sitting around and having everyone fuss over him.  There were worse things, he supposed.

After how worried Dutch had been about the bounty hunters, John expected them to pack up and move again.  Instead, Dutch praised him for keeping the camp and Trelawny safe before giving a short speech about how they needed more money.

And the next few days weren’t too bad.  John went out with Lenny to rob some crazy militia of their guns.  Lenny did good, though John wished they could have made a little less noise during the robbery.  There had to be cash in that giant plantation house!  Unfortunately, one of his bullets hit a cache of dynamite, and the explosion probably alerted the entire swamp of the battle. 

But not long after that, John went back to Valentine with Bill, Karen, and Lenny to rob the bank, getting about twenty thousand dollars.  That led to another party in camp that lasted well into the morning.

If only Annabelle wasn’t so sick.  She was supposed to join the bank robbery instead of John, but threw up before she even reached her horse.

“You should go to a doctor,” Abigail told her the next morning while everyone else nursed their hangovers.

“No, it’s nothing.  Stomach bug, or something.  I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, sure you will,” Abigail said, rolling her eyes.  “You only threw up that tea Hosea made that was supposed to help your stomach.  Twice.”

“Let me talk some sense into her,” Dutch said, trading places with Abigail.  “Seriously, though.  If this keeps going, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“Where?  Rhodes?  Or back to Valentine?” Annabelle groaned.  “Sure, I’ll just grab my horse and ride into town.”

“I certainly don’t trust these country hicks to treat you properly,” Dutch said.  “No, we can go to Saint Denis.”

“Fine.  But only if it doesn’t get better,” Annabelle said.

“Maybe you just hate the humidity,” Arthur called over to them, joining John at the dominoes table with his latest project.  Apparently there were panthers hiding in the woods near the Braithwaite Manor.  Isaac spotted and shot it.  Boadicea bolted with Arthur barely hanging on.

“It is awful,” Dutch agreed.  “I feel like I’m sweating all night.”

“Let’s go back north soon.  I never thought I’d miss the mountains,” Annabelle said.

“Oh, no!  We’re not going into the snow again!  You know, I was reading about this island called Tahiti in the South Pacific.  Sounds like paradise!”

“Is it hot and humid?” Annabelle asked.

“It’s tropical.”

“So, more sweating?” she said, sending him a grin.

“Well, you certainly aren’t dying if you’re making fun of my ideas,” Dutch said.

“We’ll just have to drink lots of alcohol to stay cool.”

Dutch pressed a hand against her forehead.  “Are you sure you’re not feverish?”

“I’d rather this be caused by a hangover.  Then I’d know it was my fault,” she said.

“You didn’t drink last night?”

“No.  Just the smell of alcohol made me nauseous.”

“What if I go and ask a doctor about it?” Arthur said.  “Or at least check out the local one to make sure he isn’t an idiot.”

“Fine,” Annabelle said.

“Why don’t you come with me, John.  I feel like we haven’t had much chance to talk lately,” Arthur said.

“Alright.”

They were barely out of camp when Arthur turned in his saddle and asked, “How are you feeling about things?”

“Uh, what things?” John asked.

“This plan.  These two families.  The bounty hunters.”

“Oh.”

What did he think?  John was nervous about the law being close, and they hadn’t made much money outside the bank job, which wasn’t even in Rhodes.  Dutch, Micah, and Bill were still pretending to be lawmen for some reason.

“I guess it doesn’t make too much sense to me,” John finally decided to say.  “It feels like we’d be better off moving someplace else.  Why?”

Arthur hesitated.  “I’m worried about the law finding us.  Finding camp and… I’m worried about Isaac and Jack.”

John shuddered, thinking about those bounty hunters near his son.  “I know what you mean.”

“I guess I wanted to see what you thought before I talked to Dutch.  You know, make sure it wasn’t just me worried.”

“Why?” John asked.

“Dutch… he seems to be enjoying playing lawman and swindling these fools.  Too much, in my opinion.  I just worry that he won’t think it’s too serious if it’s just me.”

“Arthur, come on now.  It’s Dutch!  He’ll listen to you!” John said.

“Sure, he’ll listen.  But do something?  He knows it’s not safe down here.  Hell, Anna has been sick since we got down here.”

“Okay, but that’s not because of the south,” John said.  “If there was something going around, the rest of us would be sick, too!”

“She’s been stressed,” Arthur said.  “But I suppose you’re right.  She probably just needs an actual doctor and not Hosea’s awful tea.  Unless…”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Arthur said.

They stopped talking when they got to Rhodes, in case any Grays were around and listening.  There was one in town, though, but Arthur knew him.

“Beau, how are you?”

“I’ve been well, and I was able to get a few messages to my lady love,” Beau said, leaning in to whisper the last part.  “Though, if you could do me a favor?”

Arthur groaned.  “Not more letters, I hope!”

Beau pulled out an envelope.  “Just this one.  And Penelope’s reply.  I’ve been paying Braithwaite servants to help with our exchanges, but I’m afraid of this one falling into the wrong hands.”

“What is it?”

“I have a plan to get out of here!  We can go up to Boston and start a new life together!  I want to see if she can meet me at the train station,” Beau said.  “Can you bring me her reply at the stables?”

“Alright, just this once,” Arthur grumbled.  “Then I never want to see you kids again.  I ain’t following you to Boston.”

“Well, I wouldn’t- no, you’re joking again,” Beau said.  “Thank you, Arthur.”

“Just get yourselves out of this town.  They’ll appreciate you two up north.”

Beau waved goodbye and headed out of town.

“Hopefully that boy starts packing,” Arthur said.

“Was that Romeo and Juliet?” John asked.

“Yeah, Romeo alright,” Arthur said.  “I’ve got to say though, I’m glad they’re getting out.  They’re better than this town and those families.”

“Eh, you’re just so soft these days,” John snickered.

Arthur tried to swat him, but their horses were too far away.  “I’m going to take care of this letter.  You okay seeing if the doctor is worth a damn?”

“Sure,” John said, and Arthur took off towards the Braithwaite Manor.  But when John got to the doctor’s office, there was a hastily made sign announcing the man had gone fishing.  “Great.”

He kicked a clump of dirt and looked around the small town.  Maybe he could grab a drink from the saloon and wait for a bit.  Play a few rounds of blackjack or ask when they expected the doctor to return.  He hitched Old Boy to the fence right before he noticed a black man sitting on a crate, nervously watching the townsfolk move about while trying not to meet John’s eye.

“You alright, mister?” John asked.

“You need me to move?” the man said.

“No, why would I?”

“I didn’t mean any offense, sir.  Please.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m very sorry, sir.  You have yourself a fine day and I apologize for any offense I may have inadvertently caused.”  The man grabbed his bag and backed away.

“Are you drunk?” John asked.

“No, sir.”

“Well, why you acting so strange, then?”

“I don’t mean to,” the man said, slow and clear.  “I’m sorry for any offense.”

John shook his head.  “How could you have offended me?”

“I have no idea,” the man said.  At least he seemed to realize John didn’t mean him any harm, and he started to walk back towards him.  “But I had no idea how I offended the last fellers and they stole my wagon on account of my impudence.”

“They stole your wagon?”

“They didn’t like my medical practice, I suppose.  I was helping folk.”

“Wait, you’re a doctor?  I was trying to find one,” John said.

“Well, at least someone in this town is appreciative,” the man said.  “Apparently I was undercutting the competition, or I was too colored, or I was irritating in nature, or I was some know it all big city slicker here to demean some good ole boys with my fine words.  The exact variety of my sins was the source of some conjecture so they undercut me.”

John knew the people of Rhodes were bad, but somehow it didn’t quite hit him before.  “Which way did they go?”

“Down the road, that away.”

“Stay here,” John said.

“Wait, didn’t you say you needed a doctor?”

“For my friend,” John said.  “And she ain’t dying, I don’t think.”

John was heading down the road when another black man approached him.  “You looking for that feller’s wagon?” he asked.  “Heard ‘em say they was taking it to Macomb’s End.”

“Thanks, sir.”

John steered Old Boy towards the swamps.  Stupid South.  He understood why Arthur was worried about the people down here.  If they found out they were robbing those families, stolen wagons would be the least of their worries.

The air thickened and the sunlight disappeared when he entered the swamps, but soon he located the camp.  “Hey!  Whatcha steal that wagon for?” he shouted as he pulled out his rifle and downed the two guards.  Several more exited the buildings around the dock, but they barely got a chance to notice John before they died, too.

He found the wagon right next to the dock.  The gold lettering announcing the services of Doctor Renaud stood out against the black paint and red trim, and what looked like Hosea’s mortar and pestle sat on the top.

“Alright, let’s get you back,” John said to the spooked horses.

But on their way back, even more idiots showed up!  “Hey, he’s got the wagon!” one shouted before shooting at him.

“Jesus!” John said, before firing back.  “What do you want with this thing?”

He heard a loud thunk behind him.  The decoration on the top fell off.

“Oops.”

Fortunately, he didn’t lose anything else from the wagon.  When they got back to Rhodes, the doctor was still sitting where John left him.  His face lit up when he saw the wagon, and he hopped to his feet.

“My God, look who it is!  I did not count on seeing that wagon again, nor you for that matter!”

John climbed down.  “Only people you won’t be seeing are the fellers who took it.”

“I take it they aren’t the only ignorant bullying clodhoppers in these parts.”

“No, they ain’t.”

“Well, I’ll live in glorious hope,” Doctor Renaud said.  “It wasn’t a trouble now was it?”

“It was a pleasure,” John said.

“Well, let me give you something for your please.  You said your friend is sick?”

“Yeah.  She says she’s fine, but she keeps getting sick all the time.  Throwing up.  Been going on for a few weeks.”

“Any fever?”

“No.”

“Weight loss?”

“Don’t think so.”

“How old is she?”

“Uh, late thirties?” John said, slightly embarrassed that he didn’t know.  “I don’t think she’s forty yet.”

Doctor Renaud looked over his supply with a frown.  “Any chance she’s pregnant?”

“No,” John said immediately, and then he thought about it.  Hadn’t Abigail been sick when she first got pregnant with Jack?  He’d been so focused on himself, he hadn’t noticed too much.

Dutch and Annabelle had certainly been doing it a lot lately.  But wouldn’t Annabelle be able to tell if she was pregnant?

“I’m not sure, actually,” John said, deciding on the safest answer.

“Well, this stuff will help with the nausea,” Doctor Renaud said, pressing a bottle into his hand.  “And it won’t harm her on the chance she is pregnant.  There’s not much to do in that case except wait it out.  You should take her to a doctor, though, in either case.  Make sure she’s drinking plenty of water, and keep her out of this sun.”

“Could you come back with me?  Take a look?” John said.

“I’m afraid I need to restock a bit,” Doctor Renaud said, looking over the back of his wagon.  “Besides, I usually deal with simple ailments.  Colds, fevers, minor injuries.  For something chronic, I suggest taking her to Saint Denis.  The doctor there is a good man.  Always gives me good prices when I need supplies.”

“Oh,” John said, a little disappointed.

“I’m sure you’re worried, but have her take that and see if it helps.  If you see me in my travels, make sure you stop by and say hello.”

“I will,” John said.  He waved goodbye to the doctor and slipped the medicine in his satchel.

She probably wasn’t pregnant, right?  John didn’t know too much about all that, but Annabelle should.

Right?

Chapter Text

Once Arthur finished running letters for Beau and Penelope again, he stopped by the post office to see if he had any himself.  He smiled when he got one from Hamish, saying that Arthur and Isaac were certainly welcome to come up for a few days to hunt.  Or longer, given the circumstances Arthur described in his previous letter.  Hamish understood Arthur’s desire to get out of the south.

It wasn’t that Arthur didn’t want to stick with Dutch and see these jobs through to the end.  He cared about the gang and wanted to help.  But he was worried.  Things were getting too complicated, and he couldn’t risk his son getting caught up in the middle of a shootout.

Really, he wanted to take a group north.  The whole gang, if he could, but there was no way Dutch would just abandon this job while there was still money to be made.  But Abigail and Jack, if John had to stay for the job.  Tilly, since she didn’t like being down here.  Lenny, maybe Mary-Beth if she wanted to join them.  Annabelle, since the south clearly didn’t agree with her.

There were some spots in the mountains that would make a good camp, and they wouldn’t starve during the summer months.  Deer and elk were plentiful, and the lake was full of fish.