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Roomy interior with comfortable living quarters.

It turned out that had been slightly oversold on the advertisement, but still, it was an upgrade from the tents Arthur and I had spent the better part of our adult lives living in. I had gone to negotiate with Pete - the owner of the boat - on my own (with Arthur keeping watch from a safe distance the entire time).

I'd met him in the saloon, bought him a beer to sweeten him up, and then rode on the wagon to the San Luis River, where the boat was moored at the end of a little jetty East of Lake Don Julio. As soon as I'd set foot aboard the thing, I had a certain feeling inside me. I'd taken one look at the scratched up wooden floors, the ratty little single bed on the far side wall, and the beat up and blackened stove, and I'd felt far happier than I ought to have been. It had potential. It was private, it had a steam engine, it all worked. It could be a nice little portable home for us, and most importantly, it would keep us off land and away from most of civilization.

Pete was a hard man to negotiate with, and it probably didn't help that I was a woman on my own. He'd made it abundantly clear he'd prefer to speak to my husband. Not that I'd given him a reason to believe I even had a husband. But in the end, I managed to knock the price down a little bit, and then even more when I agreed to exchange it in part for our wagon. We wouldn't have been able to bring it along whilst travelling by boat anyway.

In a matter of hours we finally had a warm and somewhat comfortable shelter to call our home.

The boat as a whole was larger than expected, but it was mostly made up of the deck that surrounded the sunken living quarters. There was plenty of open space outside, at the hull surrounding the tiller, and at the bow. The inside was quite small, just enough space to sleep and prepare food, but certainly bigger than a tent. Luckily the boat was substantial enough that the horses could be tethered up at the front while cruising, and we could let them back onto dry land where we moored.

We wasted no time in heading further along the San Luis River, finding a quiet and secluded spot to moor up for the first few nights. Jet and Rayna were somewhat cautious about setting hoof onto the deck of the boat for the first time, but a few apples and words of encouragement helped smooth out the process, and they didn't seem too phased as the boat began to move. It was certainly a relief.

Over the course of a few weeks we began to make the place feel more like a home. We stopped at small settlements along the river and beyond, gathering the materials we needed to patch up the few holes in the roof, and we managed to squeeze in a second bed, pushed up close to the first one to make our own double bed. With some new stuffing to pad out the mattress and a few blankets, the bed was surprisingly comfortable. And we certainly made the most of our newfound privacy as frequently as we could, especially in that first week, simultaneously testing out the stability and buoyancy of the vessel. It all held up well, we were pleased to note.

Arthur seemed to lift quite a bit in the new living arrangements. I knew he felt more at ease when we were closed off from the world, and far from the roads and towns that put his very freedom at risk. And without all that outside pressure, we began to feel sort of… normal.

We would hunt and forage together, make money by selling pelts and the goods we collected along the way. We'd cook and eat our meals together at our cosy little dining table nestled in the corner of the living quarters. I'd occasionally venture to nearby general stores to buy the things we couldn't forage or make for ourselves, and come home to a kiss and a cuddle in our own little world. On some days, I didn't think about Dutch and our old life at all. Of course, I thought about our friends, and I wondered where they all were. Arthur and I discussed writing letters but we knew it would be too soon and we didn't want to risk alerting the authorities to what we were doing, not since we had finally found a little peace. But we talked about them often, re-living the happier times we had shared together.

Before we knew it months had passed, and we had fallen into a comfortable and happy little routine together. It had taken the better part of those months to shrug off the dreadful feeling of impermanence that had always plagued me before. This creeping sense that in a second everything could change and everything could be taken away from me, and that we were simply living on borrowed time. It was a feeling that I don't even think I realised was present until… it wasn't. Like the way you don't really notice feeling fit and healthy until you get sick, and then suddenly it’s so obvious. Yes, the change was like that, but far more pleasant.

We were moored up somewhere on the outskirts of some town. Honestly I didn't much keep track of where we were or where we were heading these days, it didn't really matter as we’d be moving on in about the time it took to familiarise ourselves with the place. I liked this nomadic lifestyle, I suppose it was a bit reminiscent of how Arthur and I had always lived, only this was a lot more comfortable as the roof over our heads could move with us and didn't need to be disassembled and reassembled every time we settled in a new place. And nowadays it didn't feel like we were on the run, like it did when we moved with the gang. Now it felt like we were exploring the country together.

Arthur had woken up early in the morning, kissed me on the forehead and told me he was heading down the river to fish before the sun came up, he said they always bite better then. He told me he left me something on the table, but not to worry about it until I got up later. In my sleepy haze I hummed my acknowledgement and drifted off to sleep again, until the sun came up.

Getting out of bed, I briefly paused at the washstand to bathe before dressing and tidying my hair for the day. I opened up the hatch leading out to the deck and uncovered the porthole windows to let in some light and air, and peered out to where Rayna was grazing on land. I was pleased with how quickly she and Jet had adapted to our new lifestyle.

I brewed myself a cup of coffee, and with that in hand I turned, noticing a sliver of sunlight casting a line across the wall and cascading onto the table. I remembered what Arthur had said that morning. I approached the table, looking for something out of the ordinary but finding nothing but our salt shaker and Arthur’s journal. I frowned in confusion, touching my fingertips to the worn yet supple leather of the cover. He never left without it, it was always safely tucked away in his satchel, ready for him to pull out for a speedy sketch or a note to record a passing thought.

Is this what he left for me?

I noticed something peeking out from underneath the cover; a tiny yellow buttercup. I lifted up the cover to reveal the flower, I picked it up and rolled the stem between my fingers, spinning it and admiring it from all sides. A curious little smile passed across my face, and my brow furrowed in perplexity. Casting my gaze back down, there was a little note tucked into the first page of the journal; a recent addition judging by the crisp edges of the paper, juxtaposed next to the dog eared-ness of the original first page.

~

I know you’ve always been curious about what nonsense I put in here, and this week I filled up the last page. So I figured today I’d let you spend some time with it to alleviate some boredom while I’m out catching us our dinner.

To my love, yours always, until my heart stops.

Arthur (who else would it be?)

~

Without hesitation, after tucking the buttercup behind my ear I excitedly trotted up the steps - coffee in one hand and journal in the other - and climbed out of the hatch into the daylight. I took a seat at the hull, feet dangling down in the cool water below, and began flicking through the book. A little self-absorbed perhaps, but I skim read things until the first diary entry that mentioned me. I had been waiting for a long time to really get a glimpse into his mind, especially from those early days, and now here was my chance.

~

We have another new guest, I say guest because I'm not entirely sure how long she plans on staying.

It don't matter how far we run, the world only feels smaller and smaller, as this guest happens to be a woman I met a long time ago in Blackwater. I'm yet to figure out if she remembers me, though I suspect she doesn't, given the state I saw her in last. She seems just as independent as I remember, though I suppose she's had to be since the night her brother passed. I hope I didn't scare her with the way I barged into camp, effing and blinding like an angry buffoon. Working for Strauss always puts me in a bad mood.

~

I chuckled a little, smiling at the way he was concerned about the impression he made on me that day. It all seemed like so long ago now, that first time I saw him. Though of course, it wasn’t the first time, and I still flushed over the fact that he remembered me and the way that I acted in Blackwater… so drunk. I continued on quickly.

~

Turns out the new girl is quite the hunter. Charles sent us out together today, and I rather enjoyed myself. We talked a lot and she eventually realised we've met before, she recalled the night in Blackwater, all her behaviour, too. Poor thing looked like she wanted the ground to eat her up, she was so embarrassed. But I found myself enjoying her conversation, she seems to have a good head on her shoulders.

…

I don't know what makes me more of a fool; that I plan on going to see Mary after all these years, or the fact I've somehow roped the new girl into coming with me. I suppose it's for the best, if I go alone, I might just fall in head first all over again. The gang needs me focused, not moping around and licking my wounds when I no doubt mess things up again. Especially since I seem to have forgotten how to properly act around a lady. At Sean's party, a few complimentary words was enough to send my face beet red and render me unable to respond, and that weren't even from Mary.

~

It was so strange reading his thoughts about Mary at the time, before he and I became involved. It almost hurt a little bit, strangely. But I felt a sense of satisfaction from the fact that I was mentioned too. Especially since that night I thought my compliments had been amusing to him, it was so pleasing to read things from his perspective, finally seeing how he really felt.

My heart felt like it doubled in size when I noticed the sketch that adorned the mirroring page; it was me, surrounded by daisies, sitting next to little Jack. I remembered making daisy chains with him, that very same night. I imagined Arthur, after getting flustered by my compliments, proceeding to watch me from afar, jotting my likeness down into his journal. It was dizzying really, I felt like a dog with a bone, grinning from ear to ear and blushing the same as I would if I had known that night.

~

What a day I've had. I went to see Mary, though as I'm writing this I very nearly neglected to mention that part. Something odd is happening, I find myself thinking of a certain someone far too fondly to the point it worries me. The more I look at her the more I notice things about the way she looks, far more than I have any right to. Not only that, every time she comes close to me it unsettles me in a way that is not unpleasant, a feeling I have not experienced in a long time. She hugged me, out of gratitude for helping her retrieve her mare, but I swear my body ain't felt the same since, where hers touched mine. Perhaps I should blame the whiskey.

God help me.

~

Wow, I never realised how soon he started to feel differently about me. The whole time that I was kicking myself, feeling embarrassed about how I was acting, hoping he wouldn't notice my little crush on him… he was feeling the same.

~

Micah was barely back ten minutes before slinging his arm around the new girl, not that I expected any less. She seems to be able to handle herself, though, and I suspect she'll be on her way soon enough if she heeds my warning about the Pinkertons. It ain't that I want her to leave, I just wonder if she should be getting involved with a gang like us. Though, the job she pulled at that woman's house made Dutch smile like he did when Charles brought in his first score, so I reckon he's seeing something in her. Maybe she'll stay after all.

~

Micah. It was funny reading his name and being transported back to a time where he was alive and… somewhat tolerated. After all that had transpired, this all felt like a work of fiction. Hard to digest. And to imagine if I had left after Arthur's warning. Where would I be now? Probably still somewhere barely surviving, having never known happiness like the kind Arthur brought me.

~

Despite the fact that we've moved again, I find myself unable to think of much else but that one moment out in Scarlett Meadows. I made a fool of myself. I lost myself in a moment far sweeter than I deserve and I very nearly took advantage of a young girl's kindness. I almost kissed her. I am embarrassed even as I write this and recall it, I can't bring myself to write her name for if someone happens to read this, I wouldn't want her image sullied by my own foolish urges and inability to control myself. For a moment I thought I was justified but the look on her face said otherwise. It's clear to me that I have read the wrong signals and she sees me for what I am.

Old, lonely, clinging to the idea that there is something out there for me more meaningful than the life I currently lead.

~

My heart hurt a little to read those words. Arthur often spoke so unkindly about himself, but to think he didn't feel like he deserved those sweet moments, or a life with meaning. It genuinely hurt me. I felt like I was reading a story that was not mine, and I found myself racing forward to find the beautiful moment where everything changes. Of course, I was not disappointed.

A few pages ahead, my name was written at the top of the page in large letters of swirling script, underlined twice.

~

Where on earth do I start? I have never been more happy and more terrified in my entire life. Well, perhaps when I found out Eliza was pregnant, but this is a different feeling entirely. I was intending to keep my distance after my mishap in Scarlett Meadows, however when I saw Micah sniffing around I couldn't help myself. She had her first kiss stolen by a man I cannot stand, and while for a moment I wrapped myself up in my own anger, I realised I had to come clean. I told her my intention to kiss her and I apologised. I expected nothing from it, perhaps for her to avoid me more than I had been avoiding her. I know that's what would've been fair. Instead what I got was a profession of feelings of her own.

I have no idea what I have done to garner such attention from a woman as lovely as herself. I know that I do not rightly deserve it, but kissing her felt nothing short of incredible. I haven't kissed anyone in so long, I am not sure if I had just forgotten what it felt like, or if kissing her is an experience that's truly unique. All I know is that doing it again is almost all I can think about. I feel myself fast becoming overwhelmed with affection for this lady, so fast it scares me.

~

I lost count of how many times I read this particular entry, hearing the words in Arthur's voice, reverberating through my mind and heart. I also thought back to our first kiss, the way it lit flames beneath my skin and opened a door to somewhere I had never been and never wanted to return from. I brushed my thumb over my lips, feeling the smooth texture of the skin there. My own thumb felt rough compared to Arthur's mouth, so soft and careful he is when he shows me his affection.

~

We're going hunting again. This time Charles is along with us. I am writing this in my tent just a few steps away from hers, and I wonder if she's as restless as I am. There has been talk of nights alone and promises of more than she has already allowed me to indulge in, and I do not understand my luck, still. At times I struggle to contain myself and I act like a man ruled by something other than his brain, I must remind myself that she is purer than perhaps I ever have been. When we kiss, my head goes blank and all I can focus on is how warm she feels, how soft she is. Everything she does endears her to me more.

Whenever we finally get some peace, I hope I can contain myself enough as to not overwhelm her.

~

A low hum escaped me. To contain himself would be a crying shame, I thought.

~

She is so beautiful. I want to tell her but the words would sound wrong coming from my harsh mouth. We spent last night alone together in an empty cabin we found, our journey back to camp interrupted by a loose horseshoe, almost as if fate was smiling down on us. She's asleep as I write this, wearing my shirt, and I can scarcely pull my eyes away long enough to finish each sentence. I cannot write all the things I want to because if I do, I will no doubt feel the need to tear the page out, as I cannot stand to imagine uninvited eyes reading about our night together. It will remain as secret as our relationship, which for now we have decided will stay between the two of us so we can enjoy it in privacy.

I should probably wake her up so that we can make a move, but how can I when she looks like this?

~

There I was on the page again, sleeping peacefully in that old cabin I remembered so well. That night was the first time we touched in ways I had never been touched by another, and never wanted from anyone but him. Just one night among many where I fell deeper and deeper in love with Arthur.

~

I am recuperating. Laid up in bed for the foreseeable future with a bad arm that I’m lucky to still have, I suppose. O’Driscolls got me, after Dutch got the bright idea to go visit him and make peace. Of course it was all a trap, Colm wanted to lure the whole gang into getting arrested and hanged. I suppose that’s why no one came for me, truth be told I don’t know whether to feel saddened or relieved by that. But in the end, I’m alive, and being attended to by the loveliest nurse I could hope for, and I’m not talking about Miss Grimshaw.

I’m not sure I like her going off with Micah though. I ain’t concerned about her conduct, it’s Micah’s I’m worried about. Apparently he propositioned her at the saloon, he always finds some way to be pig. I suppose she’s trying to see the best in him, though I fear that whatever good she’s seeing just don’t exist.

…

We’ve been on the move again, we’re hunkered down in that old house at Shady Belle. Though last night I slept like a baby at the Hotel Grand in Saint Denis. I’ve never felt so at ease in the city before but I guess that’s down to the company I’ve been keeping these days. And I can’t quite pen the words to describe the kind of evening we spent together, I can only say that I’ll remember and treasure it for as long as I live. She gave herself to me in a way I don’t quite deserve, but such is my bad nature I couldn’t help myself but take it. More and more I feel the urge to change everything, make sure I give her what she deserves in this life. I don’t know if it’s possible but I know if she’s by my side I can find a way to do anything, as long as it’s for her.

~

I could have rolled my eyes at how wrong his words about taking something from me could be, when he gave me such an incredible thing. His touch, his love, it filled me to the brim with a joy I’d never experienced before. Despite his belief that he was the benefactor in all of what we did together, I very much grew and gained in my own way, and I treasured those mutual moments of passion. If only he could be as touched by the good I know is in his heart as I was, maybe he would be kinder to himself.

~

Dutch is really starting to lose it. Or I am, I don’t know anymore. He somehow took issue with my going to Saint Denis for the night, and that has stirred an uncomfortable feeling in me, one I must’ve buried. I can’t help but think about when the O’Driscolls had me swinging in a basement and I crawled my way back to camp half dead. He didn’t seem half as worried back then, as compared to now when I go missing for a few hours doing something for myself, and not to benefit him. I guess it’s not a good comparison to draw, my head’s all over the place these days. I never felt like fighting against Dutch before but something about this situation really had me twitching.

…

I don’t see myself as the type to go schmoozing at the mayor's house, all dressed up to the nines. But I guess these days I can’t rule out anything. Seeing Bill Williamson shoe-horned into a suit and looking like his trousers had fallen out with his feet might have made any discomfort I felt worth it.

~

There was a sketch of me on the opposite page, dressed in an evening gown and gazing up at the sky. Fireworks bursting overhead. The note underneath read;

~

She looked like she belonged there, I must admit. She deserves all the finery in the world.

~

A few pages on there was a portrait of me, and I remembered this one. He’d drawn it at Shady Belle, and I had a matching portrait of his in my own sketchbook from the night we drew together as a distraction. My eyes dropped in search of my neck, and my fingertips traced the pencil marks that suggested a bandage, half done, almost as if he’d changed his mind halfway through adding the detail. My hand then moved to my real neck, seeking out the raised skin in a line across my throat. It had scarred, of course, but not nearly as bad as I thought it would.

~

Things need to change. I thought I’d lost her. O’Driscolls came to the camp, they went after Kieran and she saved his life, almost losing her own in the process. If Charles hadn't been there… I don’t even want to think or write about that. Her neck was cut, luckily not deep. She’s sleeping now, though I’m still wide awake, unable to shake that feeling I got when I saw her, bleeding from the neck, frozen in fear like she was. I thought I was looking at her for the last time.

This ain’t her fault, she don’t deserve any of this. She’s losing her innocence day by day and I need to figure out a way to get her out of this situation. I will not be the reason she misses out on living the rest of her life.

We just need money, and then we’ll be able to start all over again, away from all this mess.

~

I swallowed the heaviness in my throat, and continued on. I read about our date at Charles Châtenay’s art exhibition, about the time we bumped into Mary at the hotel, about Hosea’s passing, and I even read about Arthur’s reflections on his time in Guarma. I saw sketches of exotic birds and lizards, and writings that were a jumbled mess of hopefulness and despair.

~

I never thought I’d get out of that place alive…

Thought I’d never see her again, touch her sweet face, hold her warm body. If my life wasn’t over yet it might as well have been…

I would have given anything to know what she was doing back then. I thought maybe she would’ve left, she’d assume I was dead and do the smart thing, and get herself to safety…

~

His writings were a whirlwind of highs and lows. Self loathing and guilt woven into the pages that followed my burns injury, anger when half the gang turned their eyes at me when Micah claimed I was a rat, satisfaction as he later laid fighting for his life, with his own waste seeping into his bloodstream and dirtying his already polluted heart.

I passed hours by reading that journal, drinking in every emotion he felt, every thought he penned, every memory that we’d shared and more that I never knew he’d gone through.

The passages became shorter, more peaceful after we left. Small snippets about the day to day as we attempted to rebuild after everything that had transpired. I had lived the memories but seeing them in his handwriting through his eyes made them new again. It was bittersweet, the whole thing brought back grief but also pride at how far we’d come and that we made it.

It was a strange feeling when the final unread pages dwindled, thinning out as I got closer to the end. My heart gave a squeeze. It was almost disappointing, knowing I’d have nothing more to read, until it hit me that our story was going to continue. It was up to us to fill more pages. Arthur would need a new journal, and I knew what I was going to do as soon as I closed this one. But first, the final page…

~

The timing feels too perfect, that I’d finish this journal now, when everything has totally changed. I can only hope that the next journal won’t have to document so much heartache. A fresh start for us.

I can’t think of a better way to fill this last page. I have been thinking about this for a while now, and I finally made a plan that feels right. I have a question to ask, but I’ve never been that great with words, I guess that’s why I write in this thing. It’s easier for me to speak my mind when it’s ink on a page. Gives me more time to think things through and get it right.

I want her to see just what she means to me, the way she’s consumed me in the best of ways since the start. Maybe if she reads this for herself, she might see it. Maybe she will see why I want the first entry in a new journal to be about us, our future together. With her by my side as my wife.

~

My blood pounded in my ears, rushing like violent waves lapping at the land, my fingertips turned cold as my body was frozen by shock. And so I read the final sentence in the journal - a question.

~

We'd been travelling through the night. Neither of us had slept in over twenty-four hours but it didn't matter, we just needed to create distance, and figure out exactly what to do. Our best plan was to head west and hope things had calmed down enough since Blackwater, there was no guarantee of course, but that was better than heading in literally any other direction. We weren't fit to survive out in the freezing cold of the Northern mountains, just the two of us, it was way too risky in the East, what with everything that had happened there, with how many people were after us. 

So we kept riding, our horses pulling a wagon which Arthur and I sat atop; it was full of all our things, just like every other time we'd been on the move. Only this time, it was just the two of us. We'd all gone our separate ways, parting with haste below the light of a full moon, saying goodbyes that were far too hasty, though necessary. And most importantly, not forever. That's what we all kept saying, at least. I hoped it would be true.

-

"You ready?" Sadie asked me, approaching with a sorrowful aura that I hadn't seen since I first joined the gang, when she'd been fresh from the hell of what happened to her and her husband out in the snow.

"I guess so. Just waiting for Arthur. What about y'all?" I replied, and followed her gaze to where she cast it towards John and Abigail; who'd packed so little that it fit into saddlebags, just the same as Sadie. They had to pack light, where they were heading.

"Yeah, we're ready," she nodded, then sighed. "It's been real nice knowing you, it's been quite a ride, huh?" 

"Yes it has," I chuckled quietly, then stepped closer, into the arms she immediately opened for me. I squeezed her tight, rubbing her back as she patted mine. "We'll write each other, you know what to do."

"Of course," she nodded, pulling back and smiling at me. Her eyes shined. 

We'd all discussed a plan to keep in touch. We'd all have mail sent to Strawberry under various alias' and have them forwarded to wherever we found ourselves settling, once the timing was right. None of us knew when the timing would be as such, it could be years. But it'd happen eventually. We'd all been through far too much to part ways and become mere memories in each others' minds. 

John and Abigail approached then, with Jack propped on Abigail's hip, his sleeping head resting on her shoulder. 

"Arthur's coming," John said, nodding towards the road behind me, and I turned to see him and Jet emerging from the distance, cast in blue light from the moon. I took a shaky breath and quickly turned to John. He hadn't said much when Sadie and I arrived back at the camp and informed everyone of what had happened. He and Lenny hadn't been around when Dutch had died, and he seemed to remain in a state of disbelief from the moment we described the incident. 

I still felt incredibly guilty. 

"How're you feeling?" I asked them both. Abigail shook her head, as if to say that she didn't know, and I could understand. I was numb besides guilt. 

"Lucky to be alive, after everything," John said frankly, exhaling a small, empty laugh. 

"And what about what happened… you know–" 

"About Dutch?" John cut me off, getting straight to the point. I nodded. "Well, it was gonna happen some way or another. I sort of wish I could've been there to see it, to see how he finally got taken out."

"You ain't mad?"

"Mad?"

"Well I know we ain't all been his biggest fans just lately but, he was still someone important to y'all," I mused, glancing back and forth between Abigail and John. 

"He was as good as dead to me already. He would've killed one of us if he had the chance, I'm willing to bet money on that. He went so wrong, got totally twisted, he weren't the man I used to respect no more. I don't know if he ever could'a come back from it neither," John explained, glancing at Jack, "besides, there's far more important folk in my life who didn't leave me to rot in a jail, and people who gotta depend on me now. I couldn't go on like this and still have anything to do with that man. I guess it's… maybe it's better like this." 

Abigail nodded in agreement, kissing Jack's forehead. 

"I just can't believe after all he did, this is what finally did him in," she scoffed, shaking her head. "A damn horse."

"My only regret is we couldn't take his ass in to claim his bounty," Sadie snorted, trampling through any trace of delicacy in the conversation up until then. My lips parted, unsure of how to respond, and the others also remained silent for a few painful seconds. "Little bit too far?" Sadie questioned. 

John allowed himself to laugh and shook his head. "Maybe a little further than I'd dare take it, but I can't hold it against you," he admitted, patting her shoulder.

Arthur arrived then, swinging his leg over to dismount and heading immediately our way. He glanced between the four of us, assessing the mood, and it was Abigail who spoke first.

"How're you doin' Arthur?"

"Well I'm about as alright as the rest of you I'm guessing, this ain't exactly how I expected things to go today when I rode out to them oil fields," he said distractedly, hands going to his hips. "I uh… I buried him. Took him out to the Cumberland Forest, figured it was a quiet enough spot, didn't wanna hang around for too long."

"You did a good thing Arthur, burying him after what happened," I told him, and when he met my eyes he seemed to not believe me. 

"I wouldn't say it was a good thing, I just dug a whole in the ground and put him in it, I didn't say no words or prayers for him. What I did was the bare minimum. Anyway, we're ready?" He said, rolling straight into the next topic, not hovering around Dutch any longer. I swallowed down the nauseous feeling it gave me and nodded. 

"We're ready."

"You folks are leaving?" A new voice spoke, and we turned to see Lenny approaching, Miss Grimshaw by his side.

"I guess so," John nodded.

"Mr. Morgan, I tried to stop her from going to those oil fields but she wouldn't hear sense–" Susan began but Arthur just shook his head, lifting his hand dismissively.

"It don't matter now," he said.

"I can't believe he's really gone," she said, shaking her head, her eyes full of pain. I understood that Susan had maintained a somewhat positive relationship with Dutch up until the end, only really seeing him for who he was in the clarity after Micah's demise. No matter how angry she was with him though, it was clear she would mourn for him. And perhaps even Arthur would; all those years of loyalty, they wouldn't exist free of emotion even after all that had happened.

Nobody said anything in response to Susan's statement, there were just a few shared glances and a long stretch of silence. 

"Lenny, you got everything you need?" Arthur finally asked. 

"I think so, all that's left is to shake all of y'all's hands," he said.

"You ain't going anywhere with just a handshake, kid," Arthur responded, and waved him in for a hug, patting him firmly on the back as he chuckled. "You take care of yourself, stay out of trouble. Make something of yourself, I know you will," he added.

"I'll do my best," Lenny chuckled. "I've had enough trouble to last me a hundred lifetimes."

They parted and Lenny proceeded to hug the rest of the group, giving John, Abigail and Jack one big collective hug before moving onto the others, and finally myself. 

"Don't be a stranger, keep in touch," I told him. "I wanna hear all about Washington."

"I gotta get there first," he chuckled, and despite his obvious skepticism over the path he'd decided to take, there was a vibrancy in his eyes that assured me that he would be alright. He was a smart kid, with what he was willing to put in I was confident he would find a way to land on his feet. 

"Safe travels, Lenny," I told him as we broke apart from our embrace. 

"And to you." 

"I don't wanna see no more about you in the papers Mr. Morgan, alright?" Miss Grimshaw barged forward, wagging a finger before pressing forward into Arthur's chest and open arms. 

"I'll do my best," he promised.

"Yes you will, this is over now, 'cause I said so," she said, then turned to me for a hug. 

"And you look after him, you hear?" She told me, and I laughed. 

"I thought he was supposed to look after me," I teased. 

"We both know what these men are like," she muttered playfully, then said her goodbyes to the others. Arthur sidled up to me, his fingers hooking subtly with mine where our arms dangled abreast, just our pinkies entwined. 

Saying our final goodbyes, I hugged Abigail, kissing Jack's temple before I pulled away, and finally John. I felt my emotions rise dangerously close to the surface, and I knew I would cry if I gave even a little bit of slack to the rope I was keeping them tightly bound by. I took a deep, slow breath as John and I parted ways. 

"It's been real nice knowing you," he said, in that hoarse voice of his that still managed softness in times like these. I scoffed out a laugh that loosened my control enough to fill my eyes with tears, though they didn't quite spill.

"What happened to keeping in touch, John?" I balked, noticing that I wasn't the only one taken aback by his comment. He grimaced and laughed, shaking his head.

"That ain't what I meant, shit, 'course we will. It's just a, uh, an expression," he back-pedalled, knocking a knuckle beneath my chin. "Been nice living alongside you, then. That better?"

"I suppose," I smirked.

Then there was a pause. We all looked amongst each other, lips arched into sad smiles, until we couldn't delay any longer. Things were too dangerous, we had no idea who could be coming for us, if anybody. At this point, our bodies were tired and we couldn't afford to fight anymore. We had to move on. 

And so we did. And that was that.

-

I sighed as I went in circles reliving those moments in my mind, adjusting my position on the wagon seat by rolling onto my other hip. My backside was completely numb and probably bruised at this point from the bumpy road and the unforgiving wood. My new position put me close to Arthur, and he looked at me, gathering both reins into one hand and then the other, stretching out each of his sore palms.

"Want me to take over?" I asked. He must've been in control for the past couple of hours and it was probably my turn again by then.

"No princess, I'm okay. Besides, it gives me something to focus on," he said. 

I planted my hand on his knee, rubbing it softly in circles. 

"You ain't said much for a while," I noted.

"Neither have you," he retorted, though it wasn't with any sort of abrasiveness, there was a vague impression of a smile rising the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah you're right."

"I guess I'm just exhausted. I'm sure we'll talk about what happened eventually, and I ain't exactly avoiding it. I just…" he paused to sigh, "I ain't got the energy."

"That's okay," I told him, squeezing his knee once. 

"We'll be able to stop soon I reckon. We're past Strawberry, headed towards the Great Plains. It's a little closer to Blackwater than I'd like but I fancy getting too close to Tall Trees even less. Some nasty folk been hanging 'round there lately I heard. I'd rather take my chances with lawmen than the Skinner Brothers."

"Yeah we should stop," I agreed, suddenly feeling the fatigue hit me once the idea of stopping to rest was planted in my mind. 

We rode for another hour or so, and it must've been something like two or three in the morning when we finally stopped. We picked a remote location on the plains, by some trees, simply for a focal point so we didn't feel so exposed. There was no chance of us building a proper camp with a tent, so we just rolled out our bedrolls side by side and made a small fire to bring us some comfort as we ate canned peas to fill our bellies.

Once again, there were few words shared between us. We were both so bone-weary that neither of us even attempted conversation. Small talk felt pointless and anything else was far too heavy for either of us to bear the weight of just then. Instead, we finished our peas and laid down under the stars, pistols under our pillows. Arthur curled his body around mine from behind, settling me close to his chest in a protective embrace that made falling asleep that much easier. Though, my body didn't have it in it to put up much of a fight against the rest it so desperately needed.

-

We slept well into the afternoon and wasted no time in getting moving again once we rose and realised the time. We stopped by Manzanita Post, where we stocked up on some food a little more substantial than peas and had ourselves a proper meal with bread and meat kindly shared with us by an elderly hunter. The man could barely walk with a left foot almost entirely consumed by a wolf back in '78 – he'd told us the story twice in the time it took us to eat, bless his soul – but he could still hunt. Full and feeling much brighter than we had in days, we set off again. 

Moving through the Great Plains, the air felt dryer here and it was a noticeable change after so long in the soupy climate of the Bayou. Though with the sun beating down on us, dampening our clothing with sweat and reddening Arthur's skin despite his hat providing a little shade, I suggested we stop for a while to cool off. Arthur agreed, and we took a rest beside the rapid, choppy waters of the Lower Montana River. 

As we sat by the water's edge, enjoying a breeze and some shade from the trees, I realised that the events that had occurred in the oil fields felt just far enough away that discussing it felt doable. I brought it up, unable to hold my tongue as the questions chewed my mind to mush.

"Can I ask something?" I began, prompting Arthur to look at me from his seat beside me on the soft ground, moist from the splashing of the river, "about what happened at the oil fields."

"Go ahead," he nodded, not at all seeming surprised by my curiosity.

"Do you believe that Dutch would've left us be, had things gone differently?"

"Well, for a moment I did. I thought I could talk at least enough sense into him to achieve a ceasefire," he started, speaking through a deep exhale, "maybe I did. Maybe he would've kept his word." 

He went quiet for a while, pondering his answer. Just when I thought he was done speaking, he continued. 

"But he left me for dead. I saw what he did, and I ain't so dumb as to not realise he would've been glad someone else off'ed me."

"But if you think he wanted you dead, why would you go in there alone, without Charles or nobody?"

"I didn't think he'd have the guts to try and kill me on his own, I figured I'd be safe enough and I didn't want anyone else there making him feel cornered. But I know Dutch, he can't function without a gang behind him," he answered, and I shifted my gaze to Rayna who a little ways up the river from up, drinking and enjoying the shade; and I pictured Dutch's lifeless, bloodied face again. "He'll build up his numbers soon enough, and when he does–" 

He faltered, seeming to remember something.

"If he was alive," he said, his voice strange. So that was the something he remembered… "He probably would've come for me when he could have his circus do his dirty work." 

The silence that followed stretched on long enough that I thought the conversation was over, once again. But Arthur looked at me again, and took a breath.

"So no, to answer your question I suppose deep down I don't believe he would've left us be. But I was raised by him. I guess that makes me just as yellow bellied as him, and I couldn't kill him either. Not unless I was protecting you," he gestured to me with an open palm, "and thankfully he never had the chance to put me in that position."

"You ain't yellow bellied," I assured him, "far from it. Ain't many people who could come out the other end of what you've been through with any semblance of sanity. And a yellow bellied man would have shot him in the back without thinking twice. You gave him a chance to do the right thing, at least."

Arthur took a breath and rose to his feet, taking a few steps forward and crouching by the river. He cupped his hands in the stream, and splashed his face with the cool water. When he was done, he addressed me from over his shoulder, some tension leaving his stance.

"Thank you, sweetheart, you've always had a way of making me feel less of a monster. I ain't sure it's true, but I appreciate you for it," he said.

"You're far from a monster, Arthur."

He inhaled audibly and raised a shoulder almost in dismissal, but he clearly didn't want to argue or press the topic further. I got up as well and closed the gap between us, crouching down beside him. I ran my fingers through the damp strands of hair on his forehead. When I met his eyes again, he was looking at my lips; and I took that as my cue to lean in and kiss him once, simply and sweetly.

"I'm sorry for how things ended. I could tell myself it weren't my fault and that it was just an accident 'till I'm blue in the face, but the truth is; my actions caused it," I said, looking him in the eye. I didn't allow myself to shy away from him. 

"You could also spend your life blaming yourself. But you never meant for him to die. I know that, you know that, everyone who was there knows it too. I don't feel like I need to say this, but I know you need to hear it," he said, then took my hand and squeezed it, "you're forgiven."

His words surprised me, those last ones in particular. I knew Arthur didn't blame me but I wanted to own up to what I had done; I wasn't seeking absolution. I didn't even realise for myself what I needed, but he had given it to me. Forgiveness.

He kept hold of my hand and rose up, pulling me up with him. He then held both of my hands in his, looking down at them.

"And I hope you'll forgive yourself. Because we all lose ourselves sometimes. Something happens and we're hurt, we let our feelings rule us, things get out of hand. That's what happened yesterday, and you weren't the only one there, I didn't stop you because I was hurt too," Arthur continued, and I simply listened to his wisdom, soaking it in, always eager to hear when he spoke at length; he was a smart man and nobody gave him enough credit for that. "What's done is done, ain't no amount of guilt is gonna bring him back, just like it ain't gonna stop me from ever living most of my life following him around and doing all manner of unspeakable things. So we just gotta do our best from here on out, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded.

"We've got a chance, now. It won't be easy, there's plenty of folk still out for my neck and I can't make that disappear, and I'm sorry for that, princess, truly I am," he finally met my eyes then, his looking like shimmering pools, brimming with remorse. "For now all I can give you is my loyalty, and all we've got is each other. So if you're willing to accept me the way I am, after all I've done, you ain't got no excuse for beating yourself up."

I nodded slowly, considering the logic behind his words that was inescapable. I didn't want a free pass for what I had done, and he hadn't given me that. But what he had given me, was enough reason for me to swallow down my pity and accept it for what it was; Dutch was dead and I'd played a hand in that, intentionally or not. Nothing would change it. Forgiveness for myself perhaps would come later, for now, acceptance would have to suffice. 

"Thank you," I told him, feeling some of the weight and tension bleed away from my shoulders. 

"Thank you," he shook his head, "you've done far more for me than I could ever do for you if I spent the rest of my life trying."

"All I did was love you," I told him, shaking my head.

"You say that like it's a small thing," he chuckled, tracing a line with his thumb from my cheek to my temple. He kissed me again, his other hand moving to the small of my back and pressing my body to his. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and leaned into him, working my lips with his softly and sensually. A dizzying flow of warmth cascaded over me like the rapids over the rocks, and I fed a soft hum of pleasure between his lips. 

I could've kissed that man forever. But I had to settle until the moment he shifted his footing and lost it on the soft bank, his legs skidding down from under him towards the water. We broke apart suddenly, and there was a strange moment of conflicting forces as Arthur's arms pushed me back towards the bank to save me from going with him, but my own arms reached out in a vain attempt at stopping him. We both ended up in the water with a heavy splash that frightened the birds from the trees. 

The water was thankfully not as deep as it seemed and we ended up laying on the river bed, me on top of him, up to our chests and soaked through as the water broke around us, rushing past as if we weren't there at all. An unstoppable force of nature. 

Dutch and Arthur worked their way down to the bottom floor of the building. I couldn't see them but I could hear their guns, and their shouts of warning to one another. It was surreal, having listened to their conversation, to witness them working together one last time. But I was thankful for it. I started to believe that Dutch was going to keep his word, that he'd leave Arthur in peace and he and I would be able to have a somewhat normal life after all this was over, without having to keep one eye open at all times, expecting Dutch to break down our door one night. 

I had since retrieved my revolver from its holster, just in case. The men coming in were thinning out and I was lucky that all their attention was on the outlaws they knew were there. It was too dark in my hiding place and nobody glanced my way; but still, it didn't hurt to have my gun at the ready in case one did happen to spot me.

But eventually there was a break in the gunfire and the flow of enemies flooding in through the doors; long enough for Arthur and Dutch to make their way out of the building. 

"Let's get out of here," I heard Dutch say from the other end of the room, followed by a shuffling of feet along the dusty floor. 

"Separately," Arthur reminded him, an almost offended tone to his voice. As if he thought Dutch had misinterpreted the whole situation as some rekindling of their partnership. 

Dutch scoffed, "well, of course."

The footsteps approached more quickly, closer, one of them was about to walk directly past my hiding spot and my heart hammered. I held my breath and stayed as still as I could. They wouldn't see me if they didn't glance in my direction, I just had to be quiet...

I saw Dutch first, striding towards the archway into the next room, the room I had entered through, eyes set straight ahead as he passed through a few feet ahead of Arthur, who was much closer to me. I stared at him as he passed, close enough for me to touch if I reached out between the pipes… but he didn't see me. Thank god. Of course he'd find out that I'd come here sooner or later; Charles probably wouldn't keep it quiet, nor Abigail or Miss Grimshaw, but I just didn't want him finding out there and then. I didn't know what would happen. 

I watched as Dutch passed through the archway, Arthur just a little bit behind him, more voices from outside setting me on edge right before a loud noise made me dizzy from a burst of adrenaline. I flinched and closed my eyes for barely a second, mind immediately trying to work out what the sound was; some kind of explosion, but not like a gunshot, nor dynamite– then my eyes opened and all I saw was Arthur on the floor, steam filling the archway from a burst pipe. Then he was obscured by men in uniform, one yelling as he laid eyes on him.

"We got one! A white one!"

Things happened almost quicker than my mind could process; a soldier descended on Arthur, a knife in his hand. Arthur gripped his wrists with both hands, narrowly keeping the blade from his neck, and in between lifting my gun and stepping out from my hiding spot, I registered the sight of Dutch, partially hidden by steam, taking one last look at the man he once called his son, and walking away. 

A gunshot sounded out, very quickly followed by another, and another; though I had only pulled the trigger once. After watching two bullets hit the soldier on top of Arthur, I spun to look behind me as a second soldier dropped to the ground. The second gunman was Eagle Flies, scanning the room for more threats, missing the one entering the room behind him. Without thinking I fired my gun twice at the soldier, missing the first shot with a cloud of dust bursting from the wall behind him, the second slicing through his neck. 

The seconds after the chaos seemed silent, but it was just the numbing of my ears from the gunshots reverberating in the room, and soon the hiss of the burst pipe reappeared. I spun back around to see Arthur, shoving the body that had fallen on top of him away, rolling onto his side to lift himself up, his eyes catching mine and appearing to freeze. In fact, everything froze. Just for a few seconds.

"What in the goddamn hell are you doing here?" He yelled after time restarted, continuing his journey up to his feet. 

"Well it's a damn good job I am here, ain't it? I won't hear no arguing," I growled at him with a kind of anger that I didn't ever think I'd direct at him… but it wasn't really directed at him, was it? He was just the first person in the firing line when it suddenly dawned on me, when the emotion hit me, when it really sunk in that I'd just watched Dutch leave Arthur to die. 

I stormed away from Arthur and Eagle Flies when I was satisfied that neither of them were harmed and there were no more men on the way, and headed out through the archway to follow Dutch, avoiding the steam. I wasn't sure whether the intention was to stop me or protect me but I heard Arthur's footsteps follow, and Eagle Flies' too. When I emerged from the building I saw the horses had gathered, the commotion and noise putting them on edge; they had clearly sought safety in numbers. Rayna was there, Jet too, among others. Dutch had one foot in the stirrup, about to mount his white Arabian, when he realised he wasn't alone. 

Dutch turned his head, his eyes betraying his surprise at seeing me there, of all people. It was enough to have him step down and turn to face me. 

"What the hell was that, you evil, nasty, snake of a man?" I seethed, spit projecting from my mouth like venom with the force of the words I was spewing, "oh what am I saying, you ain't a man, you're a coward! A pathetic coward who'd let some other man do the job that you were too scared to attempt!"

"Excuse me?" He drawled, cocking his eyebrow. I saw his hand rest gently on his hip just shy of his holster. I doubted he would even have the guts to do anything to me with Arthur on my tail, so it didn't concern me. Just ask the last man who tried.

"You heard every word, you're a spineless coward!" I yelled, surprised nobody had stopped me yet. I wondered how far I'd get before there was a hand to pull me back or a stern voice to warn me. 

"What exactly have I done?" He had the gall to ask and I growled in frustration before closing the gap between us, standing just a few paces from him. 

"Exactly nothing! You walked away! You left him to die!"

"I did no such thing, I wasn't even aware there was any problem," he shook his head and raised his brows with an innocence that made my blood boil. 

"You know what you did," I shoved him, he stumbled but remained standing. I heard the anxious whinnies from the horses but still no voices behind me. "You know damn well!" I shoved him again, he stepped back, his mouth twitched and his expression became angry.

"Arthur, will you get a handle on your woman?" He grumbled, "or I might have to do something you'll regret." The horses were definitely spooked, so on edge after all the gunfire, and the shouting wasn't helping. 

"Oh, shut it," Arthur retorted, surprisingly. He seemed just as angry with him as I was. He'd been betrayed.

"Your words are so empty! You shake a man's hand and promise him peace, and in the next moment you stab him in the back," I yelled, and even Rayna was losing her cool, side stepping and fidgeting on her hooves, eyeing us up from her spot just a few feet back from Dutch. If I wasn't so livid, I would've taken notice. But I practically had tunnel vision, honed in solely on the snake before me. 

"And to think he ever showed one drop of loyalty towards you," I continued through bared teeth, stepping closer to him once more. "You're lucky Arthur's as good a man as he is, anyone else would've had you in the ground already!" I gave him one last shove, harder than the rest. He stumbled badly, not expecting such force from me, and lost his footing in the soft mud underfoot. He fell on his ass, his back falling back against Rayna's left hind leg. 

I knew that she had been spooked. I knew she was completely on edge and probably seconds from bolting. And I knew what horses did when a sudden threat came from behind them. But none of that information mattered in the moments I was spewing all my vitriol and rage towards a man I genuinely, truly hated. I couldn't think of the consequences of my actions; and that was not an excuse, it was a genuine failing on my part. A complete loss of control that I couldn't for one second defend in the aftermath of the argument; in those heart-stopping moments after Dutch fell against my horse, and her back legs kicked out instinctively, and her hoof collided with the side of his head with the most gruesome thump of a sound I'd ever heard.

He dropped like a lead weight as Rayna took off, the other horses scattering too. At the moment of impact not a sound escaped him, not even a grunt of pain, or a gasp of shock. He just dropped. Out like he'd been out for hours, but in a split second.

It was the kind of incident where people pitifully made comforting offerings like; well, at least there was no suffering. The kind of incident that was so pointless and insignificant, such a shame, but who could've helped it? The kind of ill fate that was met by inexperienced stable boys or poor fools who were simply victims of bad timing. The kind that would be in the papers of a small town, and the locals would tut and shake their heads out of mild sadness, but mostly indifference, and it would be forgotten before the day was out. 

It was a death that was so anticlimactic, that it was almost not befitting of the infamous Dutch Van Der Linde. And yet, the man laid there in the mud, still, lifeless, just seconds after we'd all seen him talking and moving. Minutes after he cleared a whole building full of men, shooting them one by one and taking lives like they were nothing. And yet… he suffered a death even less remarkable than those who'd been shot by a criminal at large. 

In a weird way… it almost felt too easy.

I don't know what possessed me to make my next move; throwing myself to my knees at his side, shaking him by the shoulders and grabbing his face by the chin, tilting his head towards me. His eyes were still open, though not looking at anything within this realm. I tapped his cheek, my fingers becoming sheathed in a sticky red coating from the bloody dent in the side of his skull. There was a lot of blood, more than I would've expected considering how little time had passed since the injury occured. 

"Dutch," I hissed, as if trying to wake him from a deep sleep. 

"Shit, Dutch," Arthur breathed, stepping towards us. I peered up at him and saw his expression, eyes pinned open wide, lips dry and hanging slack, all the colour in his cheeks drained away. 

Eagle Flies was behind him, staring with a gruesome wince, though he seemed unsure of what to say. Unsure of what was appropriate. After all, were we to be happy or sad about the events that unfolded? Even I didn't know. 

My eyes flicked back to Arthur's, by then his had met mine. "I'm sorry–" I choked, the words coming out as if I'd spoken them immediately after breaking the surface of water underneath which I'd been held to the point of almost drowning. I hadn't taken a breath since Dutch had fallen. 

My next breaths were quick and ragged and I pushed up to my feet, stumbling back and looking down at Dutch again. Part of me was waiting for him to come around, to sit up and berate me for pushing him so hard, rubbing his sore head. The weird ashen tone to his skin, changing so quickly as the blood continued to spill onto the mud below our feet, was proof enough that that wasn't going to happen. I covered my mouth with my hand and turned away, I couldn't look any longer. 

Arthur swallowed hard, looking back and forth between Dutch and me, the colour gone from his face, looking almost as sickly as the man laying on the ground. He made a number of quiet noises, sentences barely begun, just voicing a syllable or two before deciding that wherever it was going wasn't suitable. 

Footsteps approached, hasty at first, then coming to a sudden stop. I looked towards the source and found Charles and Sadie, taking in the scene before them with unconcealed confusion and surprise within every aspect of their body; from the stiff limbs and the unblinking eyes, to the grim shape of their mouths. 

"Is that– was he shot?" Sadie asked first, coming to life a little quicker than Charles, rushing over to get a closer look. Our silence prompted her to look at the three of us, standing still stunned. "What happened?"

"It's my fault," I began, rubbing my fingertips together and feeling the sticky drag of dried blood between them; Dutch's blood. "I made a mistake–"

"You shot Dutch?" Sadie's eyes narrowed, not in judgment but pure disbelief.

"That's not a gunshot," Charles observed, having come out of his shock to investigate. He crouched beside Dutch, placing his hand carefully over his eyes, pressing them down to close them and hide that empty, glassy stare. 

"It was an accident," Arthur's hand momentarily brushed across the small of my back as he passed me, coming beside Charles. "The horses were spooked and he got a kickin'. We should bury him," the casual tone which Arthur used concerned me because I knew that it was false. 

"It weren't an accident, I pushed him," I breathed, my eyes widening, flashing between Sadie, Charles and Arthur, searching their expressions for anger or disgust but finding only concern. 

"You didn't intend for this to happen," Arthur said. Charles gave him a questioning look but wordlessly helped him lift the body. 

"No I didn't but I– I pushed him, it's my fault," I said, following them closely as they carried him to Jet, carefully draping him across the horse's back. His arm slipped down, swinging like a doll's. My mouth filled with saliva as nausea suddenly threatened to empty my stomach. I swallowed it down and averted my gaze. 

"It ain't your fault, I let things get out'a hand, after what happened in there I–" he began, but stopped, frowning to himself. "You saved me from a lot'a guilt."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I questioned.

"What happened in there?" Charles asked, his face screwed up in a mix of confusion and frustration, then he looked at me, "you shouldn't even have been here. Arthur, I warned her to stay hidden."

"If she hadn't been there it'd be me you'd be burying. Same goes for Eagle Flies, them two saved me," Arthur said, then cast a dark eyed glance towards Dutch, "after he left me for dead."

Quiet settled over the group as Arthur turned to his horse, adjusting the hat on his head as he paused, considered something for a while. He soon turned back.

"Charles, you go back with Eagle Flies, take him to his father. They need to move on from here, fast."

"So all this was for nothing–" Eagle Flies began, quieting at a firm hand on his shoulder, he met Charles' eyes. 

"You saw what a mess this became. This situation is past saving, you know that," Charles said softly. Eagle Flies' mouth became a stiff line, his brows to match, but he stayed silent. "The army will come to the reservation, they'll show no mercy. Think about your family." 

Eagle Flies closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. He didn't say a word, but when he opened his eyes again, he gave a single nod of his head. 

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, then looked at Sadie, "go back to camp, start moving. I think it's time we put some distance between us and this mess. You got a plan?"

Sadie nodded, "John and Abigail have a way out of here, they've got a boat at Copperhead Landing. When we get back to camp I'm leaving with them, just to get away from here. Then I'll figure things out from there."

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement, then looked at me, "go with Sadie. I'll meet back with you all at camp."

"I'm coming with you," I protested. 

"No sweetheart, I'll… I'll bury him. Then I'm coming to get you."

"You shouldn't do that alone, I should be–"

"Please," Arthur interrupted me. I knew not to argue, his eyes pleaded with me; he wanted to do this alone. I nodded, swallowing down another generous helping of guilt – and saliva – and whistled Rayna over. 

She seemed to have calmed down since the incident, and was blissfully oblivious to what she'd just done. She'd achieved what most bounty hunters could only dream of with one simple reflex… I patted her on the neck with a sigh.

"Well, it looks like this is it," Arthur said. Charles stepped forwards, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Looks like it," he agreed, "I'll leave with Eagle Flies and the rest of the tribe. I'll stay with them."

A lengthy pause occurred, before finally Arthur gave a nod of acceptance; the moment had finally come. We were separating from those we cared for the most. 

"Good luck, Charles. It's been…" he trailed off. Charles nodded, and the two came together in a brief embrace. They nodded at each other when they parted, no words could've encapsulated the emotion shared in those moments, words were both unnecessary and inadequate. 

Charles looked at me then, "stay out of trouble, alright? Go with Sadie, get ready to get out of here."

I nodded my head, and stepped forwards into his open arms too. I squeezed him tight, his arms practically compressing the air out of my lungs. We all knew it would be a long time before we could see each other again. 

"Good luck, be careful," I told him.

"Of course. I won't say goodbye, this isn't the last time we'll meet," he responded as we parted and he turned his attention to Sadie, giving her a squeeze too. 

"Of course not, we'll find a way to keep in touch," Arthur said.

"We all will," Sadie agreed. 

"Now let's get out of here. Everyone keep off the main roads, keep a low profile. We don't want any more drama," Arthur said, mounting his horse.

"Where will you go?" I asked him, lunging forwards before he could think about leaving. He met my eyes and reached a hand out to my cheek. 

"Don't worry about that princess, I'll come for you."

I took his hand in mine and brought it to my mouth, kissing his palm and his fingertips, before releasing him and stepping back. Arthur gave a final nod to the group, tipping his hat at Eagle Flies. "Send my regards to your father. I wish you all the best."

"Of course. Look after yourself Mr. Morgan, and I'd like to thank you for all your help. Even though we're forced to move on from here, we did all we could, and so did you," he responded, closing the distance between them and reaching to shake Arthur's hand firmly. Arthur patted his wrist and gave it a squeeze with his opposite hand, nodding.

"I just hope you can all find some peace. You surely deserve it."

Eagle Flies let go of Arthur, took a step back and looked at me. "And thank you. Don't think I didn't notice how you took out that other soldier back there," he said. I shook my head and smiled.

"Thank you for showing up when you did. I couldn't have shot them all by myself, it could've been a lot different if you weren't there."

"Well, then I guess we were both just in the right place at the right time," he said, and I reached my hand out for him to shake, which he did so with a lighter and gentler hand than he'd used with Arthur. "Although, perhaps this all could have been avoided if I hadn't listened to that traitor," he added, inclining his head towards Dutch.

"What's done is done," Charles said, and I agreed with him. "We can only look forward."

"Good luck, Eagle Flies, send my best to your father and your family," I told him, and with a smile, he responded.

"Thank you, I will. I wish you luck also."

Sadie mounted her horse and I followed suit, watching as Charles also mounted his, sharing with Eagle Flies as a number of his fellow tribe members gathered after checking the coast was clear for us to get moving. We each shared a few final nods and moments of eye contact, and it was another time where words were useless; all that could be said had already been said, we were just clinging onto those last moments together for as long as we could.

-

When I woke up in the morning Arthur was asleep by my side. The attack on the O'Driscoll's must have been a success. I laid on my side next to him and watched him for a while, noticing the flecks of red on his cheek. They weren't overly obvious at first glance, but the way I studied the face of the man I loved was close enough to notice even the smallest of details. The blood was dry and by the looks of things, not his. I reached out and traced my thumb gently over his cheek; with a few easy swipes the blood flaked off and he was clean again. I pressed a kiss to his forehead before laying back down and closing my eyes, snuggling closer to him to have a few more moments of sleep.

The day ahead was busy. People were preparing to move on, having made their plans and starting to pluck up the courage to actually leave. We knew that we couldn't stay here for long and so there was a weird mix of urgency and hesitancy among us all.

Sadie – now content in the knowledge she'd done as much damage to the O'Driscoll's as she possibly could, though far from at peace – mentioned bounty hunting. Still clearly on the hunt for justice in whatever form she could deliver it, being a woman with good aim and a ballsy attitude.

Lenny was gearing up for a long journey, compacting his belongings into just a pair of saddle bags that poor Maggie seemed only just about capable of carrying. He refused a wagon, wanting to travel lightly. He was going to be on the road for a long time, stopping wherever he could along the way in the sleepiest towns he could find, on his way to Washington like he had mentioned a few nights prior. In search of education. A better, more honourable future. I couldn't be prouder of him.

Miss Grimshaw had heard from her potential moonshine partner. She'd sent off a letter to a Maggie Fike, who had seemingly written back right away, giving Susan information on her current whereabouts, organising a midpoint where the two could meet. Apparently she'd already started up a moonshine business with rather an odd character; never said a word, but got the job done. She said she'd appreciate the company of someone who could offer a little conversation, however, and welcomed her with open arms.

Abigail, John and Jack were all packed up too. Like Lenny, they packed lightly, taking their most important belongings and fitting them into saddle bags, and selling the rest for some extra pocket change. Their plan was to leave by boat, put some real distance between them and the folks who were after them. They wanted to take Jack to safety and lie as low as possible for as long as possible.

Charles was packed up too. In fact, he had been for the entire time we camped here, just unpacking the essentials when needed. He knew more than anyone that if he needed to go, it would be quick, given the ever changing situation at the Wapiti reservation. He'd found another family there, I believed. He'd always have one with us too, the remaining few good souls of the Van Der Linde gang... if we'd even be able to utter that name as part of our identities ever again. But the Wapiti people understood him in ways that we couldn't, and I was overjoyed that he'd found that kind of love and support, despite the horrendous circumstances.

So, that left just Arthur and I. I took the liberty of starting to pack our things onto the remaining wagon that none of the others had claimed, my palms clammy and my heart rate elevated the entire time. We were leaving. Today, tomorrow, maybe the next day, but soon! Finally! It was happening! I couldn't keep the smile from my face as Arthur helped me, collecting his clothes and his belongings and sliding them neatly across the wooden planks of the wagon. He knew it too, he knew this was it.

And then a man rode into camp. One I'd never met but knew within seconds who he was.

"Mr Morgan, Charles, my friends… It doesn't please me to ask you for assistance yet again but I fear my son has made a grave mistake. He visited your old camping place not half an hour ago and he is riding towards the oil fields as we speak… with those men you used to ride with, and so many of my people at his side," Rains Fall, a man with long hair and a pair of tired, kind and pleading eyes called out as he climbed down from his horse and came swiftly over to us.

"Dutch? He's riding out there with Dutch?" Arthur hissed incredulously, "after we told him about everything that happened?" He wasn't angry, he was in shock.

"Unfortunately so, I believe he went to him in spite of all this because he knew that he would help. Mr Van Der Linde has always encouraged his more reckless ideas," Rains Fall sighed, eyes dropping to the ground as he shook his head. "Please, will you go there and assist him? I worry that with only Mr Van Der Linde and his followers at his side, he will lose all sense and put himself and everyone else in unnecessary danger!"

Arthur's eyes met mine for just a moment, wide, indecisive, pained. I was too in shock to give him even a hint of what I was feeling, only staring back with just as much surprise. But Charles' actions sealed his fate as he mounted up.

"Of course. I'm not letting Dutch take advantage once again, all he cares about is giving the authorities a bigger target than himself!"

"Charles–" Arthur began, stammering once or twice before giving up with a sigh and running to mount up too.

"Thank you, thank you!" Rains Fall breathed out in grateful relief, his hands pressed to his chest, "you are good men!"

Charles and Arthur began to ride, Lenny, Sadie and John joining them without hesitation, following them out of camp in a thunder of hoof steps. I stood and watched with a slack jaw, unable to muster enough rational thought to react.

"I must go back to the reservation, my people will need to move after this, no doubt," Rains Fall explained, mounting up on his steed and leaving just as quickly as he came.

Momentarily my heart ached solely for him as I watched him ride away, until I was left in the stupefied silence of the camp and realised that I was alone again. Arthur had gone again. He was in danger, again.

I glanced over at Abigail, who's face betrayed the same dumbstruck emotions as myself, watching after the small speck in the distance that was John. Her hand was loose around Jack's, who stood and looked up at his mother and quietly asked where his father was going. He didn't get a response. I stepped forwards, closing the gap between us, reaching for Abigail's shoulder when I was close enough. She just let out a sigh when she felt my presence, shaking her head.

"I guess their work ain't over yet," her tone was a mix between defeated and angry. Harsh but soft at the same time. She turned and walked out of my arm's reach and I let the hand drop, watching as she continued with her preparations for leaving.

"I'm sure they'll catch up with 'em, talk things out and stop it before anything happens," I offered pathetically and she laughed without a drop of humour.

"You think so?"

I looked down at the ground, where the hem of my skirt dragged just a little and was covered in dust and frayed threads. "No," I deadpanned, and turned to return to our wagon. There was little for me to do but I fiddled and rearranged things just to give my hands, and my mind, something to do. I needed to be occupied. Because that creeping sensation in my gut and in the back of my mind was back, the one that filled me with enough dread to completely consume me until I saw Arthur again.

But this time it was different. Because we were so close. So damn close! We had packed our things and were planning to leave over the next couple of days and then we'd be free! Free from all of the violence and the danger and the crap that being in Dutch's gang had always brought since the very start. I was under no illusion that going it alone would come without its challenges and dangers, but at least we'd be fighting for ourselves. We'd be putting our necks on the line for us. Not getting swept up in other people's problems.

It wasn't that I didn't think Arthur should help Rains Fall. It wasn't that I thought his problems should be ignored, or weren't worth the fight. That couldn't be further from the truth. Arthur was doing the right thing and I wouldn't for one second feel good about attempting to stop him from doing it; this was the man I fell in love with. One of the reasons why. His drive to do the right thing despite his upbringing and his time with Dutch. In his heart he was morally good and of course he would help people in need.

But.

We were so close.

An immeasurable amount of time passed before I let out a growl of frustration, as if something had been wearing me down for ages and ages until I had to give in to it. Then I found myself storming over to Rayna.

"Where are you going?" Miss Grimshaw yelled across the camp.

I didn't consciously think of my response, it burst from my lips without input from my brain, it felt; "to the oil fields."

"No you ain't!" She hissed, whirling towards me as I mounted up.

"Don't try and stop me Susan, I got a bad feeling about this and I ain't sitting idly by waiting for them to bring Arthur back with a hole in his chest. I'm going over there and seeing the situation for myself," I shouted back, not looking up.

"You'll get yourself killed, girl!"

"I can look after myself just fine."

"And Mr Morgan can't? He ain't alone out there, they'll handle it. He don't need to be worrying about you–"

"Please!" I sighed, scrunching my eyes shut, feeling them ache with the tears that wanted to come.

There was silence for some time, and I heard no further protests. I urged Rayna forwards and into a gallop, and followed the hoofprints that had been left by Arthur and our friends.

—

I arrived in good time, but my haste brought no relief; the oil fields were a gruesome sight to behold. Bodies littered the vast expanse in front of me and my mouth was dry. The fight still was not over, in the distance I saw men in uniform turning up on their horses, barely able to dismount before they were ambushed by a group of men that I recognised to be friends of Eagle Flies'. It looked as though I had missed most of the battle, but I urged Rayna forwards anyway.

As I got closer I decided to dismount, making my way across the wooden walkways stained with black sludge and blood, and closer to the main building where most of the men I saw were gathered. I made my way through the little village of huts and through the open doors of a train cart, through to the other side; gulping down my dread as I passed the gatling gun inside.

I spotted Charles. Standing by a door into the building, watching something intently. Relief of some sort washed over me but it wasn't as strong as the fear I still felt; I was yet to hear or see any proof that Arthur was unharmed.

I closed the space between Charles and I, not making any noise, unsure of what I was walking into. As quiet as I tried to be, Charles still took notice of me, and his eyes widened as he realised who he was looking at. He made a beeline for me.

"What are you doing here?" He hissed with just as much surprise and disapproval as I had expected, if not more.

I ignored his question in favour of demanding an answer to my own. "Is Arthur okay?"

"Yes, but he's in there with Dutch—"

"Dutch? Why on earth did you let him go inside with him?" I cut him off and immediately went for the door. Charles halted me with a strong hand wrapped around my forearm.

"I didn't let him do anything; he insisted. He said he wanted to talk, try to make an agreement with him. I tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen, so I said I'd wait outside," he explained to me, eyes wandering to the building, "I was keeping watch to make sure nothing went wrong, until now. So I'll ask again, what're you doing here?"

"I came to see if you all were still alive, I was worried sick!" I told him as he walked back over to the door, still holding onto me to keep me by his side. "Where are the others? And what agreement does he wanna make?"

"Shh," he put his free hand's index finger to his lips and listened for a moment before answering. "Lenny and John just headed back to camp to protect it until everyone can leave, Sadie's still here, keeping guard around the other side. And Arthur wants to make sure that Dutch won't come after anyone after all this, he just wants… a truce?" He sighed and shook his head.

Shouting caught our attention from around the side of the building and Charles let go of my arm, readying his gun. It was clear that more men were turning up, and Eagle Flies and the others needed help.

"Stay out of trouble, hide somewhere inside," he ordered me before running off out of sight. My arm tingled as the blood flowed back into the spot where he'd held me, and I ducked in through the door. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the dark interior, mostly lit by a furnace to my left. There were a couple of desks in the room, and I contemplated hiding under one of them, but then I heard Dutch speaking from the floor above, through the doorway to the next room.

"You betrayed all of us, stole from me," his voice echoed over the sound of the machinery that filled the next room. "I had to bury my most loyal and valuable man yesterday because of you."

My mind went to Micah, remembering his weakness when we left and realising that he must have only gotten worse. It didn't make me happy but I'd be pretending if I felt any grief whatsoever.

I tiptoed through the doorway, eyes peeling upwards to the walkways above. I couldn't see them, but I knew it'd be best if they didn't see me. So I found my hiding place, under the walkway and between a pair of big metal pipe things, I had no idea what they were but they'd hide me, so I squeezed in close to the wall so I couldn't be seen from any angle besides right in front of me. It would be good enough with the dim light.

"And now you want my word?" Dutch continued incredulously, then my heart raced at the sound of the voice that followed.

"I ain't asking for much, just peace. I don't wanna be a part of this no more, you gotta understand–"

"I don't understand! I never understood you, Arthur, not at all these past months. You just got further and further from the man I thought I could trust, and after all I've done for you, you destroyed all my plans and my work," Dutch's voice raised.

"I didn't ruin nothing, it was all falling to pieces already, you know that. And you think I'd let Micah shoot the woman I love for your sake? You ain't that special Dutch, you don't deserve nothing from me. That man was a snake the whole time, working for the Pinkertons, and I did you a favour by killing him. And I didn't steal from you, I took what was ours, what we earned," Arthur ranted in a stream of anger and unleashed frustrations, the likes of which I never expected to hear from him like this.

"All I'm asking is for you to give me your word and shake my hand, and tell me that you'll do just as I'll do and move on. No revenge. No fighting to the death. We can both get out of here and do whatever the heck we want, nobody has to spend their lives hunting someone down for vengeance," he continued.

"How do I know you won't stab me in the back as soon as I shake your hand?"

"Well, I s'pose you just gotta find what's in you that trusted me all those years, and do it one last time," Arthur said after a pause.

There was another stretch of silence.

"Or," Dutch began, with a nonchalance that made my blood boil, "I could just shoot you now and rid myself of the risk."

"You think you've got a quicker hand than mine? You and Hosea taught me how to use a gun. I know everything you do, plus everything I learned without you. You reach for that gun and it'll be the last thing you do," the coolness of Arthur's voice made me shiver. It was so ruthless, so bare of emotion, so frightening. "You're forgetting that I've got far more to live for than you do, Dutch."

"What's that, son?" The word made me turn my nose up, he was no father figure, far from it! "That floozy, that hopeless woman who did nothing but drag you down and take you away from everything that used to matter to you? This life, Arthur. This is what we used to fight for, our freedom! And you're throwing all that away because of–"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Dutch. That was your dream, living like a crook all these years. I went along with it 'cause I had nothing, you were all I had. And it's down to her that I realised that there's more to life than you, than the gang, than this so-called freedom that just entails us lookin' over our shoulders every damn day. There's more to me than what you moulded me into," Arthur was speaking with such diction, such certainty. It made me proud. It made me want to step out and applaud him but with things on such a knife edge, I remained hidden.

"Women, they always did have a way of rotting a good man's brain," was Dutch's only response and I rolled my eyes.

"I won't bother trying to get through to you Dutch, all I ask for is peace. I don't wanna interfere with you, and I don't want you interfering with me. If you can't shake my hand like a man then I'm telling you Dutch; I ain't afraid to solve this some other way."

"Meaning you'll have no qualms about killing me, huh?" Dutch said incredulously and released a heavy sigh.

Outside I heard more activity. There was a door near my hiding spot, just on the other side of one of the pipes, there was yelling and some gunfire. I prayed that Charles and the others were okay, and contemplated going out there to help. Something held me back though, I wasn't sure what, but I felt as though I should stay. It was probably for the better, I wasn't great with combat and my interference would probably just get me or someone else killed.

"We ain't got much time Dutch, you gonna shake my hand, end this thing? Or are we gonna get shot by the army once and for all while we stand here like fools?" Arthur's words gave me a clear image of what was happening above me. I imagined him standing before Dutch with his hand extended, waiting. Perhaps the other hand was carefully poised to grab his gun if things weren't to be solved peacefully. Dutch was probably staring at him with that gaze that seemed to have the ability to freeze a person in place with its iciness despite the warm brown tone of his eyes.

"Fair enough," Dutch finally said. Though his tone was a little light and apathetic, I got the impression that it was his pride that was doing it. He did not want Arthur to think he was doing this out of fear. He wanted to seem as though he was doing him a favour, in a way that was pretty inconsequential to him. But I knew better, because Dutch was scared. I had no doubt that after everything that had transpired over the past few days that Dutch wouldn't hesitate to kill Arthur if he didn't think that his own life would be in danger with the attempt. He wanted Arthur dead, his resentment was so clear.

He just didn't have the balls to do it while Arthur was standing in front of him so impregnable and fierce.

I heard the clap of two hands coming together, and I envisioned the two men shaking hands. Calling a truce and, with any luck, putting this whole ordeal behind them. With any luck, though? We never had much luck. And I couldn't say with total honesty that I trusted that handshake.

"Thank you," Arthur said solemnly. "Now we better leave, these men will just keep coming and we can't stay here much longer if we want a chance of actually getting out of here."

"If you say so, Arthur," Dutch's voice was tired and nonchalant. I heard the creak of the floorboards overhead and the footsteps as the men made their way down the stairs. I froze up. Shit! I wondered if I should make myself known before I caught them by surprise. Would they even notice me? Was I well hidden enough? Fuck! I panicked as I scrambled for an idea about what to do but in the end I had no choice. A group of men rushed in through the door, yelling.

"There's more in here!" They exclaimed, eyes peeled up towards the walkways, too focused on them to notice me. I cowered against the wall, huddling into the space as best I could, knowing that if someone saw me, I'd probably be dead before I had the chance to do anything.

-

I didn't see much of Arthur for a couple of days. Things were strange at the camp, there was no sense of permanence at all, there was plenty of talk about what next, where next? Some people had their answers, but mostly the camp was quiet with everyone in their own bubble of quiet contemplation. Everything had fallen apart in a matter of days and suddenly everyone had to figure out what to do next. 

I just waited patiently, doing what I could for the group. I hunted and provided some meat for everyone to fill their bellies with, it helped us to keep warm. It wasn't the toastiest of locations, so far north, but it would do until we had our plan. 

Arthur had spent the past two days with Charles. They had broken Eagle Flies out of prison after nightfall and they were up first thing the following day to be with Rains Fall. He was meeting with the army; things were not good and he was hoping to salvage some sort of deal or relationship of trust. That's where they were as I was sitting by the fire, wrapped up in a blanket and keeping an eye on Jack for John and Abigail, who were nearby discussing their plan. All I knew of it was they were wanting to get as far away from this place as possible. I wondered if we would ever see them again, or if they would keep on going further and further until the only evidence we'd ever have of their existence was a letter in the post once or twice a year. It made me sad to think about it, but I couldn't for one second protest it. We couldn't have much of a happily ever after, not after the things we'd done. We just had to make the best of things. 

"What're you doing, Jack?" I called out when I saw him wandering a little too close for comfort to one of the geysers.

"Just looking," he shouted back to me, though he stopped and turned around to smile at me. He was still smiling. It astounded me, honestly, he'd taken everything so well. 

He did ask about Dutch once or twice, wondering when we were going back to him. Abigail was usually the one to tell him the truth, but softly, carefully, while John and the rest of us sat tongue tied, unable to think of the right words to satisfy a four year old in such a situation. Jack usually responded with silence, and I couldn't tell if his silence was a signal of sadness or indifference.

I watched the boy as he picked up a pebble from the ground and then eyed up the geyser. I knew what his question was going to be before he opened his mouth. 

"What would happen if I threw this inside?" He called. I exhaled a chuckle and went to answer, though the words got stuck. I didn't actually know.

"Uhh," I vocalised cluelessly, "I s'pose it'd shoot back out again." 

"Can I try it?" 

"Best not," I chuckled, "the speed that thing would come out– I don't know. I wouldn't if I were you, sweetie. What if it falls down and bops you on the noggin?"

"I'd be okay," he assured me, and I cocked my brow a little. 

"Your momma might not be, I'm supposed to be looking after you. I imagine she'd toss me in there if you got hurt on my watch. C'mere." 

He kept hold of the pebble but did as he was asked, and came trotting over to me with a pair of rosy cheeks.

"Sit by the fire, okay? It's freezing out here, ain't you cold?" 

"No," he told me, his tone was high and it was very obviously untrue.

"Your nose'll drop off if you ain't careful," I warned, a little smirk on my face. He touched his pink nose and considered it for a moment. 

"It didn't fall off when we were in the snow." 

"The snow?" 

"With Uncle Dutch and Hosea, and everyone else. Before you were here," he said, gazing down at the rock in his hand, scratching at a piece of mud caked onto it until it gathered under his fingernail. He wiped it on his trousers.

"Ohh," I nodded, I'd heard about it before, their short stop at Colter after the Blackwater fiasco. "Wow, seems like a long time ago, I bet. You've been to so many places since then, ain't you?"

He hummed his agreement and nodded, not looking up at me. 

"You like going to different places?" 

"I guess so," he shrugged, "but sometimes I get bored." 

I chuckled, "yeah, I think we all do," I smiled at him and stroked his hair for a moment. It was feathery soft and light, and I sighed at his innocence. Such a sweet boy. I had no doubt that Abigail and John loved him and were the best parents they could possibly be to him, but I wished he'd had more normal beginnings in life. And I hoped he'd forget some of the awful things he must've seen and heard. 

"How're you feeling, about going away with your ma and pa?" I asked him. 

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" I repeated, leaning my head on my fist as I leaned forward and down to his level. 

"We're going away. Uncle Arthur, and you, and Sadie won't be there? And all the others?"

"No, sweetheart, we won't. But I'm sure it won't be the last you'll see of all of us, hm? Right now, your mama and papa only wanna take you someplace safer, you understand that, don't you?" I asked softly and he sighed, his little shoulders jerking with it.

"I guess so," his voice was small and I gave his shoulder a little squeeze. 

"Keep your chin up, little prince. Your parents love you to the moon and back, a million times over. You're gonna be okay," I smiled at him, even though he was staring at the rock. I considered it for a moment. "Can I see that?" 

He looked up at me in question, and noticed that I was looking at the rock. He paused for a second before handing it over. I inspected it for a moment, it looked much smaller in my hand than it did in his but it still filled up most of my palm. I clutched it tight in my hand, then looked at Jack as I kissed my knuckles. I closed my eyes for a few moments, and I heard him giggle. 

"What're you doing?" He questioned and I scrunched my face up, shushing him softly. 

"I'm concentrating," I murmured, and continued the performance for a few more moments, his giggles continuing until I slowly cracked one eye open, and then the other. 

"What did you do?" He stood up and turned to me, his hand going to mine, trying to pry my fingers from the stone, his cheeks round and rosy with his grin. 

"I filled it with my love Jacky, and a little extra that I got from Karen, Mary Beth, Tilly, Hosea, Kieran, Molly, Sean, Mr Trelawny, Reverend Swanson, Mr Pearson, Uncle…" I made a show of gasping for a breath after listing off so many names, then swallowed before deciding to mention the names which followed, "and Javier and Bill too, and Mr Strauss… and Dutch." 

My voice had wavered and I needed a second to compose myself. I cleared my throat, and was grateful that Jack was preoccupied by looking at the grey lump of rock in my hand. It was warm from my body heat and he gasped a little when he took it from me, marvelling about it's temperature.

"But it's a big rock. Plenty of room for more love. How 'bout you ask everyone to hold on tight to that rock, and put all their love and care into it. So, as long as you've got that, you'll be safe, and you'll be able to remember all of us and know that we ain't ever leaving you, not in our hearts." 

"Okay!" He did a little jump and squeezed the rock in his hand again, holding it to his chest with the biggest smile I'd seen all year. It warmed my heart despite the freezing temperatures. I glanced up to where Lenny was sat wrapped up in his winter coat, a book in his gloved hands. 

"Why don't you go ask Lenny if he don't mind taking a break from reading?" I suggested, and Jack immediately spun around and ran over to him. 

I watched him from a distance, as he excitedly explained the concept. Lenny chuckled and looked up at me from across the camp. He put his book down, laced his fingers together and pushed them out to stretch out his hands before giving them a shake and rocking his head from side to side, limbering up before taking the rock from Jack and cupping it tightly between both hands and squeezing it as hard as he could, eyes intently focused on them. I grinned and laughed to myself, loving his commitment to making the boy smile. I knew everyone would be just as eager to please, not afraid of making a fool of themselves. 

For the rest of the afternoon Jack went around the camp asking people to contribute to the pebble. I was glad to have given him something to amuse him, and perhaps something to remember us all by, even if it was just a simple rock. It would be nice if he remembered us all each time he looked at it, if it didn't get lost along the way during whatever trips he and his parents were about to embark on. 

In the late afternoon Arthur came back. Charles was not by his side but he quickly reassured us that he had simply gone to visit the Wapiti Reservation after the negotiations hadn't exactly gone to plan. I tried not to listen to the details, despite this horrid feeling that built in the pit of my gut as days went by. I kept trying to reason with myself that Arthur had been putting his life in danger far longer than he had known me and had always come out alive. It didn't stop the voice in my head that would whisper about his luck running out…

Before I spiralled into those thoughts I got on with preparing dinner. As long as I had Arthur back in my arms at the end of the day, whatever chaos had found him while he was gone was not worth thinking about. Torturing myself was not going to help anyone, especially not Arthur, who would no doubt grow tired of my whittling about his well being. I just had to keep telling myself that soon this would all be over. 

–

"Canada, I'm thinking. Would be their best chance. They can't stay here much longer after all of that mess we left behind after the negotiations today," Charles was saying over his helping of rabbit stew. He'd returned from the reservation, where he'd apparently spent the best part of the evening convincing them to start packing up to leave. "Rains Fall seems hesitant, not that I don't understand him.  They've been moved around enough, all they want is to settle and have peace so they can live."

"Doesn't seem like they'll be able to do that here though," John said, and Arthur murmured a sound of agreement.

"He's coming to terms with that I think. He knows they'll have to move on sooner or later, it's just hard for him to accept right now, even harder for Eagle Flies. He's even more against the idea," Charles replied.

"He's got a lot of passion and fire in him, that man. He ain't quite learned though, that sometimes passion like that can get you killed," Arthur said. Charles silently nodded in agreement and looked down at his plate. "Canada, you say?"

"Canada," Charles nodded. "And I'd go with them."

"Really?" My brows raised. A quick, sharp pain went through my heart as in a second it became reality that the group was splitting up. These people I had lived with for so long and come to love, we were all going separate ways...

"Yeah. I don't have any other ideas," he chuckled a bit, then shook his head and became a little more serious, "I like it, with them. I feel closer to my mother." 

I smiled, comforted by the fact that even if Charles wouldn't be with us, he'd have a family.

"Arthur," I heard from behind. It was Sadie's gravelly whisper and my heart dropped. I knew what she was going to ask. Arthur, sitting beside me around the fire, glanced over his shoulder and nodded. Then he wordlessly leaned over to kiss my temple, and got up. He stepped over the log we sat on and headed away from the group with Sadie.

They were going to the O'Driscolls' hideout. More bloodshed. More danger. I took a breath and met Charles' eyes.

"I'm happy for you Charles. You deserve to be with people who care about you, who'll all keep each other safe. And the fact they also share your heritage, that's even nicer," I smiled at him and he nodded, "when do you think you'll go?"

"Soon as I've convinced them," he chuckled a little again, the corner of his lip lifting. 

"I'll miss you," I told him. It seemed to startle him but only a little, he was often cool and calm and not even surprising words of emotion could throw him off for long. 

"I'll miss you too," he said after a moment, and the words sounded almost like a revelation, like he also hadn't fully wrapped his head around the fact he'd be saying goodbye to us all until now. "We'll write to each other, all of us, yeah?" 

"Definitely," I nodded, my smile widening, "and if I ever find myself in Canada, I'll have a free place to stay, right?" I teased just a little and he laughed. 

-

Between the pages of his journal I smiled, I pouted, I frowned, I slept, I had a picture for every emotion it seemed. The drawings were sometimes accompanied by little notes about what happened that day, and gave clues about why he drew me in such a way. 

We spoke about Isaac today… it seems Dutch still hasn't figured out how to knock on a door... O'Driscolls found our camp, damn near slit her throat… I hope her dreams take her away from this god awful place…

I couldn't bring myself to read much of what he wrote. Just the first few words. I felt like I was invading his privacy a little too much, even if he did write about me. But as I moved through the journal I noticed that his drawings became different. The first few were portraits, mostly, and they pertained to a story from the day, almost like illustrations in the book of his life. But as it went on, the words disappeared and I found pages of studies, drawings of hands and lips and feet, different features and body parts like diagrams in a biology encyclopedia. Sometimes the same thing would be drawn three or four times. A mouth, in varying stages of completion, as if he kept giving up halfway through and starting again until he reached the final drawing, which was more complete. 

I thought nothing of it at first. Practice, I guessed. But I noticed a few things that made me realise that I was looking at my own features. I realised it when I noticed the expanse of a neck leading up to a chin, and there was the scar given to me by the O'Driscolls. I saw a pair of hands holding my own Schofield revolver. I saw a pair of crossed ankles wrapped in boots the tips of which had scuffs in exactly the same place as my own boots did. The pages and pages of what I thought was anatomy practice was all of me. 

Then my cheeks burned in a streak all the way up to the tips of my ears when I turned one page and was confronted with a drawing of my own body, laying naked atop sheets I recognised from our hotel room in Saint Denis. I was not posed in an artificial manner, I was sprawled, laying on my side with one knee hitched up, my arm laying limply on my waist. I was asleep. My heart pounded because there I was, as naked as the day I was born, and I'd never seen myself like that from such a perspective. 

"You didn't say you'd drawn this," I breathed dumbly, then turned the book to show him. His eyes widened a little and his face immediately began to redden. 

"I'm sorry, I'll toss it on the fire if I shouldn't have–"

"No, I don't want that at all. It's a surprise, that's all," I smiled.

"That day you said you'd like to be drawn like that so I… when you was sleeping I thought you looked real beautiful, so I drew that. I had every intention of showing you when you woke up but then I–" he paused and exhaled a laugh, "in the light of day, I just felt like a pervert."

I tutted and rolled my eyes playfully, "you're not a pervert, Arthur. You're the love of my life." 

Something about it seemed to startle him, he looked at me suddenly, his mouth twitched. Then he smiled.

"You really mean that?" 

"Is it only just sinking in how much I love you?" I chuckled.

I put the sketchbook aside then leaned down over him, sunk my chest to his and kissed his lips, framing his head with my arms to hold me up and not put my weight on him while he was still recovering from the wound on his torso. He pulled at my arm and patted my leg, encouraging me to swing a thigh over so my legs settled either side of his hips. His arms encircled my waist as he kissed me back, humming softly against my mouth, his chest subconsciously arching up to press more firmly against mine as if he wanted to feel the way my heart would beat when we kissed. It would always race, no doubt about it.

Our lips parted enough for him to whisper; "so, what do you think of that drawing?" 

"I think you made me look good, thank you," I chuckled softly. 

"I didn't make you look anything, that's just how you are, princess. I don't think I even fully managed to capture how incredible you looked that night," he whispered, sending warmth to my cheeks and my ears. His hands slid over my waist, rested low on my hips and I welcomed the feeling of his hands on me and closed my eyes, pressing my lips to his again. 

I was so very tempted to get carried away, absorbed in the taste of his tongue and the sound of his breaths picking up and the smell of him so close in the confined space of the tent and– I pressed our foreheads together and broke the kiss. 

"You should sleep, you got a lot going on," I began and a sound came from Arthur's throat that was almost like a scolded dog.

"I got too much going on to sleep right now," he murmured, his lips brushing against mine before he bared his teeth to give my bottom lip a cheeky nip.

"It'll keep you awake?" 

"Mm," he hummed a lazy affirmation, "plus there ain't a part of my body that's ready to sleep now you been sitting on top o' me like this."

"Arthur," I breathed a laugh and kissed him again. His hands came from my hips to my backside, holding me and encouraging me to put more weight on him. I was worried about hurting him but his goal was apparent when he positioned me such that he could show me a part of him that was very much awake. "Are you crazy?" I laughed.

"Most likely, at this point," he muttered, hips shifting below me, as if eager to grind. 

"After all that's happened these past few days, with that hole in your side– with the tatters of the gang just outside–" 

"I don't care about any of that, princess, I miss you," he cut me off with a breathy whisper, and one hand came up to cup the back of my head, and he hugged me tight to him. My face naturally nestled into the space between his shoulder and his neck and he hummed a quiet sound when my lips kissed him there on their own.

"You miss me?" I questioned, words muffled but audible. 

"Being in your embrace. In every sense, not just your arms. My love–" his words came out with just a little bit more emotion than he must've intended, given the sharp cut off he gave them. My heart dripped with a bittersweet warmth that settled in my belly. It wasn't exactly arousal that I felt, it was a sudden ache, an emptiness, a need. One that ought to be filled as quick as it appeared and could only be filled in one way. 

I moved without hesitation, gathering my skirts, moving the fabric out of the way, scooping it into a pile and hugging it to my hip as I sat up. Movement pulled at the wounds on my legs but it didn't hurt in the moment. Or maybe I was healing quicker than I thought. But three hands descended upon Arthur's belt, and we worked together to open it up and free the buttons of his trousers. He hadn't anything on underneath his jeans – his last good union suit ruined by the gunshot in his side – so closing my hand around his hard length was an easy task. I thumbed the head and shifted the skin back and forth, earning a hiss of pleasure and a few moments later, a flow of clear stuff that I smeared, knowing the extra lubricant would help. 

Then I let him go and brought my fingers to my tongue, coating them generously in spit that I then passed between my folds. This was happening spontaneously enough that I'd appreciate the help, but my own arousal was beginning to slick me enough so that when I lowered down– 

"Jesus Christ–" Arthur gasped. He held his cock for me as I took him in, inching slowly down until I was settled, my insides hugging hım entirely. Something akin to the growl of a timber wolf built in Arthur's throat as he adjusted to the heat of my body, and his hands settled on the space between my hips and my thighs with a tight grip that put indentations in my flesh. 

I wasn't planning on making this a slow and lengthy affair and I was quick to start moving, rolling my hips back and forth and guiding his cock in and out. The slow pull, rub of the tip passing over the most pleasurable spot inside me took my breath away and urged my movements to become more frantic. It was happening quickly, we were moving fast, Arthur's hands pushed and pulled and helped my motion with just as much vigor as the pace I had set. The tent bounced our breathless sounds back to my ears and somewhere in my mind I hoped that they couldn't be heard on the other side of it.

I wasn't ashamed enough to stop, however, even if they could be.

I pulsed and squeezed around his cock and Arthur released shaky little grunts, strangled sounds that wanted to be louder, I could tell. But he did a good job of keeping the volume down and I was hell bent on doing the same. I bit down on my bottom lip, trapping it between my teeth almost painfully. It tingled and I thought of when Arthur had nipped me there before and a moan threatened to escape.

"Let– let me see you, please, princess," his words were clipped and breathless, coming out in short and jerky bursts as one of his hands reached for the buttons on my blouse. I sat up and shakily unbuttoned them down to the waist of my skirt, and I pulled on the drawstrings that gathered the fabric of my corset cover until it opened up to reveal my corset and chemise.

It was far too spontaneous of a situation for me to fully undress and show myself but it seemed just the sight of my underthings was enough to rile him up. A tightly tethered moan just barely left his lips and his large hand roughly skimmed up the front of my corset, over the smooth material and firm boning, until he reached the top where my breasts were lifted, giving him enough of the soft flesh to grab at. He cupped one breast and gave a gentle squeeze over my chemise and the warmth of his hand through the fabric had me arching towards him. It changed the angle of his cock inside me and I gasped, my own hand flying down between my legs to rub and chase my orgasm. 

"I'm almost there," he stammered breathlessly, his head clawing back into the sheets of his bedroll, his long hair messily splaying out like a halo above his head. I slipped my free hand between the buttons of his shirt and kept my hand in the warmth. My fingers skimmed sideways and I found his nipple, rubbing over it thoughtlessly and receiving a buck of his hips and a slackening of his jaw in response. He was going to cum and unless I wanted him to do it inside me, I knew I had to do something. 

I quickly lifted my hips and wrapped my hand around his cock, keeping it nestled warmly between my thighs as I jerked him quickly. He moaned once, only once but it was a loud and thoughtless one that could absolutely be heard by anyone who happened to be awake. But he clamped his own hand over his mouth as he spilled, marking my thighs and his own body, his seed flowing down until it was caught in the hair surrounding the base of his cock. My hand was slick with the stuff and the wet sounds of its motion was almost as loud as Arthur's moan but I kept going anyway, until I could wind him down and slow to a stop.

He panted with exhaustion despite having been laid back the whole time, and I smirked down at him, letting out a tiny laugh. His eyes peeled open and up to me, his long lashes catching the light of the lantern and glowing a brassy blonde.

"I finished too quick for you, didn't I, my darlin'?" He said, his tone a little playful and a little more self deprecating than I liked to hear. I rolled my eyes a little but he reached between my legs, ever so gently rubbing at my folds, coating his fingers in my wetness before finding my favourite position over my clit. 

I shuddered and sagged forwards a bit, holding myself up with arms either side of his broad shoulders. His fingers rubbed me rhythmically and quick, quickening my breaths and heart rate. My orgasm had been fast approaching before we stopped and he easily brought me back to the brink, and I mewled softly under my breath, tilting my hips to lean into his hand as he whispered to me.

"That's it princess, let me see you cum," he said, "show me them pretty eyes," he added, and I lifted my gaze to him. In the low light, his eyes appeared a darker blue than they usually did, looking deeper and hungrier than I had seen in a while. So full of want and love that I wanted to kiss him, but I was close to my climax and I was soon too distracted to get my body to move. 

"I'm gonna cum," I breathed, my hips fidgeting, almost rutting. Arthur made a low, vibrating hum deep in his chest that sounded deliciously indulgent and dirty. He sped up the circles he made on my clit and the pleasure built. It built and built until it peaked, and with a gasp my body shook as my orgasm exploded. He rubbed me through it, prolonging the pleasure as I breathed heavily, and try as I might to keep quiet, small mewles of pleasure escaped me as my hips rocked against his hand. 

I leaned over him, my hands holding me up above his head, his eyes followed me, fingers still sliding through the wetness between my legs. He had a small smirk on his face, just a flash of his teeth exposed. I exhaled a small laugh through my nose at the expression, it was almost a proud one, pleased with himself. I leaned down and kissed him once, but his free hand pressed into my belly and pushed me slightly. 

"Don't mess your shirt up," he warned in a whisper, and I was reminded of the mess we'd made. In the distance, I heard the rushing sound of a geyser erupting, and I could've laughed at the timing. 

"Yeah, let's clean up," I nodded. Arthur exhaled heavily, reaching into his satchel to retrieve a handkerchief stained with gun oil, using it to mop away the mess on his belly and fingers. I took it from him and cleaned my own hands, making a plan in my head to heat up some water for us in the morning to clean up properly before Arthur left to run his errands. For now though, it would have to do, and I adjusted my clothes and rolled off of him, settling in beside him. 

"Thank you, princess," he exhaled, his eyes closing as he rested a hand over the wound on his side delicately. 

"Thank you?" I chuckled. 

"I needed that," he added, and I watched the corner of his mouth lift. 

"Yeah, I think I did too," I laughed softly, and took hold of his other hand where it lay beside me. 

"What a God damn mess we're all in," he laughed as well. It was like he was too tired and too at ease in the afterglow to take any of our recent problems seriously. 

"Just a few days and we'll be gone sweetheart, don't you worry about it," I told him anyway, squeezing his hand. 

"Yeah. Just a few days," he repeated. 

-

I stood outside the tent flaps. They were drawn closed and shivered in the wind in a ghostly fashion that made the hair on my arms stand up when the wind didn't even have much of a chill. The sounds I heard weren't pleasant. Shaky, gurgled breaths, rolling grunts and heaves, raspy inhales and sharp exhales. A near constant string of sickening moans. He was alone in there, with Dutch off out somewhere, with Miss Grimshaw giving him all she could before leaving the tent, and nobody else liking him enough to want to sit by his bedside… Micah was alone. Alone, and dying. 

I sighed and pulled back the canvas and peered inside. There he was, laying down on Dutch's bed, his shirt was off and his gut was bound up with bandages and rags, tight, but blood had still managed to seep through. The tent smelled like sweat and something rotten, like death, it was heady and warm and it caught in my throat and made me want to gag, but I entered anyway. I approached him, looked down at his scrunched up, agonised face, shiny with perspiration and a mix of deathly washed out skin and blotchy, feverish redness in his cheeks, running down to his neck. His hair looked wet and it clung to his forehead and laid limp and messy, framing his head against the pillow. 

I covered my mouth with my hand and stared down at the sight before me. This man… whom I'd worked with, spoken with, shared a drink with, lived with. Whom once upon a time had seemed like a friend, like our bond would grow closer in the name of the gang and the family we shared. But here he was, laying motionless and in pain, suffering in a prolonged state of hell. Because he'd tried to kill me. 

I felt guilty. No. I felt as though I should feel guilty, but I didn't. And that in itself generated a sickly sensation in the pit of my stomach that was something like guilt, but far more muddied. 

"Micah," I whispered, my head shaking of its own accord. His eyes flashed open and he stared up at me with a bloodshot, dilated gaze that unnerved me. His teeth were bared, and something that sounded like his laugh escaped him but was quickly interrupted by a choking cough and a groan. "You really did it this time," I sighed. 

"F– fu–" the sounds he made were weak, shaky, drawn out and almost incomprehensible. He was struggling bad. 

"I'm surprised you thought you could get away with that. You know that even if you had shot me, Arthur would've killed you immediately afterwards. It wasn't the smartest move. But you're paying for it. For your lies and betrayal and the suffering you have caused," I said to him, standing over him. He stared at me, unblinking, shivering. "You smell like death," I added. 

"You'll– you'll never be free. Y-you know that… right?" He spoke breathlessly. I stared blankly at him. 

"You'll be free soon. From all this," was my nonchalant response. "You're gonna die." 

"I'm a fighter," he hissed, his shaking hand rising to his gut, gingerly resting there against the soiled bandages. 

"You don't look good at all," I frowned sadly at him. "Arthur stabbed you deep. Charles said it might've punctured your bowels."

A grunt of some sort came from him, it wasn't clear whether he was trying to speak. 

"That's a death sentence, really. How could it not be? Your heart is pumping dirty blood to every part of your body," I bent down, leaning close to him. "Even dirtier than it was when you weren't dyin'."

Micah's face screwed up tighter, something like dread seeping into his aura. 

"I'm just having fun with you, sweet thing," I whispered to him, smirking as I regurgitated his own words back to him.

"'Least my prediction came true," he grunted. 

"Which one?" 

"We'd either f-fuck each other or–"

"Oh yeah," I cut him off. "Only it ain't me that's killed you." 

A smile passed over my lips as I thought of Arthur. 

"And you're alone. Ain't nobody here to help you through your suffering," I continued. 

"You're here," he pointed out, seemingly taking a kind of satisfaction from it. 

"Only so I remember this," I shrugged. "I'd rather this be my last memory of you, instead of that God awful kiss."

My gut churned uncomfortably. I felt so strange. At the mention of his kiss, I almost pitied him, and that brought some real guilt. His eyes kept trying to roll back, his breathing was becoming far more strained and the gap between each one increased and increased. He didn't have long, that much was clear. 

He was evil. He'd betrayed the gang, tried to frame me and then tried to kill me, all the while toying with me from day one. Kissing me just so he could violate me. What a vile man.

Even so, I didn't feel good about the way he was dying. I rested my hand on the Schofield revolver at my hip, wondering whether I should use it. I eyed Micah, his gaze had gone soft, out of focus, ascending to the top of the tent. I never thought I would see him so weak and vulnerable. I dropped my hand away and sighed.

"Things could've been so different, you know," I told him, brow curving, bottom lip protruding. "You did all this. If you'd just left me be earlier in Van Horn, if you'd kept your mouth shut to those Pinkertons– no, if you'd never worked for the Pinkertons at all. Maybe we'd all have a fighting chance. But you thought you were special, huh?"

I shook my head and sighed. 

"Don't think for one second that any of this ain't your fault," I finished. "But I suppose I should thank you, really… if it weren't for all this, Arthur and I wouldn't be leaving tonight. Jack wouldn't be getting away from here with his family just yet. Who knows when that would've happened without your help."

He wasn't making much noise, and I stepped forwards, frowning. I reached my hand out, hovering the back of it in front of his mouth and nose. I felt his hot breath against my skin and immediately withdrew. It was weak, but it was there. I swallowed hard. 

"Thank you, Micah," I finally said. Then I turned around, heading out of the tent. I paused before walking away, considering my next actions carefully, unsure if it was the right thing to do but knowing that I would think about it for years to come if I didn't. I took the canvas in hand and drew it back, securing it in place to expose the outside world to him. I didn't know for certain why I was compelled to do that; perhaps it stemmed back to when my brother and I opened a window when each of our parents passed to let their souls leave. Perhaps it was because I figured Micah deserved at least one last look at the rising sun. Either way, I walked away once the tent was open, knowing that it was the last I'd see of him alive. 

Arthur caught my eyes from across camp. He looked as though he'd been searching for something, and by the way he immediately beelined for me, I realised it had probably been me. I met him halfway, and he eyed up the open tent behind me with a small frown upon his face. 

"What're you doing in there with him? He don't deserve one second of your time," he scolded, though his hands scrubbed my upper arms affectionately. 

"Just needed to see how he was doing. He's goin', Arthur. Ain't nothing for it," I shook my head. His eyes were intense in how they gazed into mine, and he nodded slowly.

"I can't believe he kissed you," he whispered. 

"No… I can't say I expected it," I frowned, looking down, "I'm so sorry."

"Ain't you who's gotta be sorry."

"No, I do, maybe I… maybe I pushed him. I should'a known better than even talking to him when he was in that mood."

"What mood?" Arthur frowned.

"Just, saying all this crap, about how there's something between him and I, a fire, when we bicker," I murmured, not really wanting Arthur to hear it. "When he kissed me, I froze, couldn't do nothing. I'm sorry." 

Arthur was quiet for too long and it made me anxious. When I looked up at him, his eyes were distant and hurt and angry, and he was gazing towards Micah.

"Arthur?" I whispered. His jaw grew tenser and I could practically see the plan forming in his head, then a second passed and he began walking, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. "He's dying anyway, leave it."

"I can make it quicker–"

"Arthur, just stop. I don't want that. He got what he deserved already, I just wanna leave him behind. What he did don't matter, didn't mean a damn thing," I pleaded, holding his arm tight despite the fact he carried on walking. "Please kiss me. Make me forget about it," I cried out, and it made him stop. 

He was still for a moment, his back to me. Then he whirled around and cupped my face, pushing his mouth to mine and stealing my breath, exploring me with tongue and kissing me with such a flame it burned and melted me beneath his fingertips. Didn't matter at all that we were in the middle of camp. When he broke the kiss his mouth stayed close to mine, puffing hot breaths. 

Before he could say or do anything, I asked; "when're we leaving?" 

"Soon. Abigail got the money. Just our share, like we discussed. I've packed our things and spoke to a few others– Lenny's coming too. And… and Susan is," he said, and my eyes flashed wide and I jerked back a bit in surprise. He was nodding in agreement before I even said anything, "I know, I'm as surprised as you are. She came and spoke to me after she realised what we was planning and invited herself along without a second thought. I weren't even planning on asking, just coz she's been with Dutch so long–"

"I thought she was on his side! Patching Micah up like that," I exclaimed and Arthur nodded. 

"Yeah, so did I. But she was just doing what she felt she had to. Was a wild few minutes when all that happened, she couldn't just leave him. But she… she's had time to think now," he told me, looking over his shoulder at her as she packed up her things. He whispered the next part. "She's not happy with Dutch's behaviour. She sees as clear as I do how he's changed."

"God… it feels good knowing we ain't alone," I sighed. 

Arthur nodded. "Lenny don't like how he's been handling things, neither. Wanting to leave John to rot, taking advantage of Eagle Flies."

"Tilly's leaving. So are Mary-Beth and Kieran. I asked 'em if they wanted to come with us, but it seems they're trying to get away from it all for good," I told him. Arthur exhaled and his shoulders dropped. It was relief. 

"Good. That's good. What about Karen?" 

"I don't know about Karen. She says she's fine, but…" I trailed off. "She didn't say she'd come with us."

"I'll try talking to her," he said, and I nodded. 

"But Charles said he'd come, and he asked Sadie… we got quite the family forming," I said hopefully.

"It'll just be till we get on our feet, make sure everyone's got a plan. A real one. A proper way out; not what Dutch's been promising all this time."

"And then what?" I asked, and Arthur blew a jet of air through his lips as his eyes peeled to the sky. 

"I don't rightly know. Maybe you and I'll head west like we were going to before… before everything," he breathed. I nodded, reaching up and stroking his cheek. 

"I love you," I whispered to him, and he cupped his hand over mine and leaned into it, closing his eyes momentarily. 

"Then it's all worth it," he whispered, then took my hand from his face and squeezed it, "come on, princess, let's finish packing up. We're taking a couple wagons, don't care what anyone says. I want us gone before Dutch comes back."

-

The gang disbanded a little like this; while we were preparing to leave, others dropped off too. Trelawny was the first to get gone, he spoke to Arthur and I and we wished each other the best of luck and then he waltzed out of camp like he'd done many times before. Pearson was next, he quietly slipped away with only a few words of goodbye. Then Swanson and Uncle left. Mary-Beth and Kieran were all prepared to go but hung back, seemed nervous and hesitant. Some didn't seem prepared to leave at all. Most notably Javier and Bill, of course, but also Strauss. He sat with his little ledger and didn't move, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Not that I had any disappointment over the fact he wasn't coming with us, after the work he gave to Arthur.

We were all ready. Arthur, Charles, Sadie, John, Abigail, Jack, Lenny, Susan and I. Our things were distributed across two wagons and we could leave at any moment. It was so strange. Bill had come over to argue over us taking the wagons but Arthur had reasoned with him. It wasn't a violent or aggressive reasoning, it was a respectful plea. Let us go our way so that you can go yours. As thick-skulled as Bill could be, even he accepted it.

Tilly approached Arthur and I where we stood by the wagon, making final preparations for our departure. Karen was behind her, looking dazed and tired and only slightly more sober than the last time I'd seen her. 

"I, uh, I'm leaving now… and I'm taking Karen with me, ain't that right?" Tilly said firmly, glancing over her shoulder at Karen. 

"It's a hostage situation," Karen murmured, her arms crossed vulnerably over her chest. Tilly breathed a laugh and shook her head. 

"I'm gonna make sure she pulls herself together. We both need to get away from this, find something normal. I ain't leaving her to find some ditch to lay down and die in," she explained bluntly and Karen scoffed.

"I love how you see my potential, Miss Jackson," Karen rolled her name off her tongue with attitude, but a lot of love. It was honestly a massive relief to know that they would be leaving together. They'd have each other, and Tilly was a smart woman and she'd make sure Karen looked after herself. They just needed a better environment to thrive in. 

"You're my friend, Karen, I'm just being honest," Tilly sighed. I smiled at them both. 

"You two look after each other, alright? You're good people. Smart. Kind. You'll get on out there alright, I know it," Arthur said, reaching a hand out and knocking Tilly's chin with the edge of his knuckle like she was his little sister. My smile only widened. 

"Arthur–" Tilly began, but her voice wavered and her eyes looked wet, and she took a moment. A lump formed in my throat immediately. "Thank you for being in my life," she managed. Arthur took a shaky breath and wordlessly pulled her into his chest for a gentle hug. I pressed my lips together and averted my eyes, trying desperately not to cry. 

"You bastards, you're making me wanna cry," Karen bemoaned, and nestled herself against the two to join the hug. She was accepted easily, and Arthur's arm came to wrap around me as well, dragging me in whether I liked it or not. 

"You girls, all'a you; you're all the best people I know. I just want you all to be safe and happy, and I know this situation is messed up and it ain't ended too well, but…" Arthur began, taking a breath before finishing, "it's for the best. I know it."

We all parted after a moment, and Mary-Beth and Kieran joined us. 

"You're all saying your goodbyes?" Mary-Beth tentatively asked with a small smile. "We're heading out too, wanna go before…"

"Before Dutch comes back?" Karen asked. She nodded.

"Seems we all have the same idea," I breathed. 

"I love each and every one of you, remember that," Mary-Beth told us, "I will always think of you, and I hope somehow we can keep in touch."

Arthur glanced at me considerately for a moment. "Send all your letters to Miss Jemima Jones in… in Manzanita Post. We'll check there if ever we pass through. We'll find each other some way or another, we ain't ever lost each other before."

“That’s right… I… I feel a little better leaving knowing that you’re all leaving too. Last few weeks ain’t been easy– well, they’ve been just awful. And after what happened today, I just can't see this thing lasting any longer," Mary-Beth said quietly, "everyone's just so divided."

"Micah was gonna shoot you!" Tilly exclaimed, nodding along with Mary Beth and turning her wide, doll-like eyes to me. "Right there in front of everyone! Even Jack was there," she sighed, shaking her head. 

"Well it turned out to be his last mistake, didn't it? The fool," I said, almost a little too mournfully. I wasn't sad that Micah was dying. I was sad that things had turned out in such a way. So full of poison and betrayal and heartache. It tore the gang apart. 

"Good riddance," Karen scoffed. 

"I can't say the same thing for you folk," Mary-Beth said sadly, then took my hand and then Tilly's in hers. "I really am gonna miss you girls. And boys," she turned her smile to Arthur and he nodded a little bashfully.

"Kieran, you better look after this lady, treat her right," Arthur said sternly to the man who had been standing sheepishly and silently behind his sweetheart. 

"Oh, I– I will, sir, I'll do my utmost," Kieran nodded firmly, squaring his shoulders and standing up straight. Mary-Beth broke into a fit of giggles and playfully smacked the back of her hand against his chest.

"Mr. Morgan, I did not realise you were my father!" She exclaimed. I snorted and grinned up at Arthur who shook his head fondly and smiled, but otherwise said nothing. "Anyway, we best get going." 

"Said all your goodbyes?" I asked.

Mary-Beth nodded, "I have. I tried not to linger too long 'cause otherwise I'll start crying and I'll never leave," she chuckled.

"Yeah, I understand," I smiled and squeezed her hand. She took a breath, glanced at Kieran, then back at us. 

"Well then. Until we meet again, whenever, wherever that may be," she breathed. 

"The very best of luck to you," I said.

"Take care," Arthur nodded. 

"Thanks for everything," Kieran blurted out, "this all changed my life and I– I'm real grateful."

"Grateful? We had you tied to a tree, boy!" Arthur bellowed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Get out of here, enjoy your life. Stay out of trouble. Lord knows you ain't cut out to be an outlaw anyways."

"Yes sir," he nodded and took Mary-Beth's hand, and they each gave us one last smile.

And with that, Mary-Beth and Kieran skedaddled, and disappeared on the little wagon they'd claimed for themselves.

Not long after that, Karen and Tilly left too. They said the rest of their goodbyes and left on horseback quietly and discreetly with only a few tears from Karen, surprisingly. Tilly held it together well and comforted her, but I could see that she was struggling to hold back emotion of her own. The camp looked so barren with just Javier, Bill and Strauss still hanging around, and Micah still in the tent. 

Our little group was all ready to leave and after a lot of last minute hesitation, soon we couldn't put off the inevitable any longer. It was time to go. 

Jack, Abigail, and John boarded one wagon, while Susan, Arthur and I boarded the other. Lenny, Charles and Sadie mounted up on their horses and we stood motionless in the middle of camp, each holding our breaths as we waited for someone to make the first move. 

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Arthur turned to me, his hands tight on the reins. I met his eyes, stared into the beautiful blue ocean that was his irises, and took a shaky breath. 

"I am, if you are," I nodded. 

"If you're with me, I'm ready for anything," he whispered, then snapped the reins. The horses got moving and the wheels turned, and I only looked back once at the sparse remains of the gang that once welcomed me with a blanket and kindness and songs sung around a campfire. At the people whose hearts were once full of warmth and hope now turned to icy stubbornness, a refusal to let go of what once was. 

Truth be told, I couldn't blame a single one of them, for I knew that part of me would never let go of it either, not fully. 

-

We moved west, staying north, and found a place to camp far from where any Pinkertons were still patrolling. We travelled for hours, all through the remaining hours of the night, through the morning and into the afternoon. We ended up at Cotorra Springs when the sun began to set; it was cooler there and when we found a spot away from any trails, pretty secluded, we decided it was as good a place as any. The rushing sound of the geysers erupting every now and then kept making me jump at first but soon became a somewhat comforting sound. A reminder that no matter what happened, life always carried on, the world wasn't going to stop spinning and fall to pieces just yet.

We set up a small campsite with a few tents and a fire, over which we cooked meat from a deer that Charles had hunted while the rest of us set up. None of us knew how long we would be there but it was clear that we all needed some food and some rest before we even attempted to figure out our next move. We all sat around the fire with our food and little Jack was asleep with Cain by his side; the dog had tagged along with us on our journey, jumping atop the Marston's wagon whenever he got too tired.

"What exactly are we all gonna do?" John was the first one to bring up the elephant in the room, and everyone turned to eye him almost irritatedly.

Nobody spoke up or offered any sort of response, and after a moment, Lenny threw his hat in the ring.

"It's a good question. We can't live like this forever, can we?"

"Course not," Arthur said. He didn't quite snap the words but they weren't untroubled. "We've got a chest full of money on that wagon, we'll… we'll figure out what everyone wants to do and split it accordingly."

"I don't want a penny of that money," Sadie hissed, then spat into the fire, "reeks of Dutch and Micah and dirty betrayal."

"Hey, that implies it was all their money. Dutch barely put a penny in if it weren't from a job we all did together," John scoffed.

"I don't want it either but let's be rational. We're gonna need it," Charles said, looking at Sadie. "We didn't just go through all that only to starve to death at the end of it, all because of pride."

"He's got a point," I agreed. "I don't think any of us should have a problem taking that bastard's money," I added.

"Ain't his money," John shook his head, picking at something stuck in his teeth, "it's our half, fair 'n' square."

"Yeah," I nodded after a moment, but frowned a little. Silence lingered. 

"It's obvious none of us feel too good about takin' it," Abigail broke it, stating the unspoken.

"I feel fine," John snorted.

"Me too, for the most part," I hesitantly agreed. Arthur sighed beside me and everyone looked at him.

"For the love of God, not a single one of you refuse that money. This is hard enough, at this point, that money's the only thing that made this possible. Without money, we're trapped, and if we're trapped, we'll end up in the damn ground," he told us through tensely gritted teeth. More silence followed, broken by Susan.

"You're right, Mr. Morgan. This ain't no time for pride and making things needlessly hard on ourselves. We've just gotta take this opportunity to get the heck out of this mess, so I don't wanna hear no bellyaching from any of you," she said sternly, and John nodded in agreement. Lenny took a breath, and nodded too. 

"And what're you gonna do Miss Grimshaw?" I asked her softly. She met my eyes across the fire, her brows arching a little in surprise that I'd asked. 

"Me? I'm- I'm–" she began hesitantly, and glanced at the others before letting out a breath. 

"You ain't thought about it none?" Abigail asked, and Susan turned her gaze to her.

"Quite the opposite," she scoffed a laugh, then patted the side of her hair bun in an attempt at brushing back fly-aways. "Maybe I'm just a little bit ashamed to admit that I've been planning for this for a while."

My eyes widened, and so did most of the others'. 

"Oh come on. Please. A woman would have to be foolish to not consider a few back up plans in this way of life. Especially with how things have been the past few months. Even Miss O'Shea had her plans," she added, and my eyes dropped down at her mention. I always felt strange about the whole Molly situation, considering I was potentially the last person to really talk to her.

"You ain't wrong. So what's your plan?" Abigail asked. 

"I know a lot of people Miss Roberts, I have options," she chuckled. "But I think I envision a future in moonshine. An old friend of mine's been wanting to go into business together for a while now, I think I'll pay her a visit."

"Which old friend is this, anyone we know?" Arthur questioned.

"No. If you knew her, you'd know exactly who I'm talking about. She ain't a lady you easily forget," Susan chuckled, shaking her head. 

"Ain't nothing to do with those Braithwaites, then?" John snorted and Susan rolled her eyes.

"The Maggie I know would sooner hang than have anything to do with those idiots," she laughed. I smiled as I watched her laugh, feeling my admiration for her swell. Susan was a woman I would never be like, and I knew I'd miss her sorely despite all of the times I'd giggled when one of the girls would roll their eyes or pull a face at her behind her back. I knew everyone had a lot of love for her, and I did too. 

"What about you then, Lenny?" Arthur asked. "What's your plan?"

"Ohh, I'll be a rolling stone for a while I think, see where life takes me. I’d like to… learn,” he said almost hesitantly, a mild frown puckering the skin between his brows. His eyes lifted and settled on Charles for a brief moment, “maybe, if the stars align, I might just have a chance at making something of myself,” he laughed, but there was an ugly reality behind his words that bittered them slightly, though he kept smiling, and it was no accident that it was Charles that his eyes landed on. The smile that Charles returned to him was one of quiet understanding.

“My father, he wanted me to be a lawyer,” Lenny turned his grin to me, his eyes brightening a little. “From bank robber to lawyer, can you imagine that?”

I chuckled, despite the fact that with Lenny’s intelligence, charisma and articulateness, I didn't doubt his capability.

“Dutch always said I had too much potential to stay robbing banks for the rest of my life,” he breathed, looking down into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes, making them shine bright even though his energy dulled a little at his mention. Yet another silence fell across the campfire and I kept my eyes on the young man before me, so full of potential yet held back by so many factors far out of his control, and my heart hurt.

“I think that's the only thing I know of that came out of his mouth and made a lick of sense,” I noted. He looked at me, held my gaze for a few moments, then released a quiet breath.

“Maybe I’ll head to Washington D.C. Try to get a job, or go to school. I don't know about being a lawyer,” he breathed a laugh and shook his head, “but doing something… more than what I have been doing. That’d be good. I think my dad would be proud of that.”

“Your dad would be proud of you already, Lenny. I mean that. You’re a good kid, got a good heart,” Arthur told him, and everyone made a show of agreement, nodding, humming confirmations and patting him on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, all’a you, I… it's been quite a ride, ain’t it?” Lenny sighed. 

“That it has…” Charles trailed off. 

“And I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” Abigail announced, dropping her plate on the ground before rising to her feet. I watched as she very carefully bundled Jack up into her arms. “Goodnight, y’all.”

“Goodnight,” the rest of us whispered softly, as if suddenly we would all wake up the boy, even though he’d been sleeping just fine before. 

“I need some sleep too,” John agreed, and it set off a chain reaction, and Lenny and Susan retired to their sleeping spots. Charles drained the contents of his bottle of the beer that Sadie had managed to snag before we all left. 

“Arthur, tomorrow night we should…” he said quietly as he rose to his feet, trailing off. Arthur met his eyes and stared silently for a while, then nodded. 

“We will.”

“Alright. Thank you,” Charles nodded, then headed towards his tent.

“I weren’t planning on leaving him, not for a second,” Arthur called after him and Charles waved a hand dismissively, smiling over his shoulder at him.

“I know. Goodnight, folks,” he added, then crawled inside his tent to bed down for the night. I glanced at Arthur for some clarification and his eyes dropped to the ground.

“Eagle Flies got captured by the army. I said I’d break him out, I have to, princess–”

“Don't think I’m gonna try to stop you,” I whispered. He turned his head towards me, and I kissed his cheek. 

“Thank you. He got caught when I was helping Dutch screw the lot of ‘em over, pretending to be helpful. I gotta speak to him and his father, tell them about what happened with the gang today. Eagle Flies can’t keep on trusting him, getting sucked in by his fancy words just like I did at his age. It won’t do anyone any good in the end,” he explained, and I nodded in agreement.

"You need some help breaking him out?" Sadie questioned. Arthur met her eyes and shook his head. 

"Charles has a plan, shouldn't need more than the two of us."

"In that case, maybe there's something you can help me with instead," she said, leaning forwards, elbows on knees. My stomach squeezed a bit at the way her eyes lit with devilish determination. "O'Driscolls. There's a bunch of 'em hiding out over at Hanging Dog Ranch."

"Sadie–" Arthur began, his hand raising.

"With Colm gone and with just a few stragglers left, we can end those bastards for good," she cut him off, her hands clenching into fists. I took a breath and looked down at my feet, pressing my lips together.

"Sadie, I… I don't think we– we just got out of a bad situation, we're doing all we can just to get by–" he began again, and I could feel his tense but careful sympathy in his tone.

"We can finish 'em. We can. This is all I got left now, bringing some kinda justice to those sick bastards after what they did to me, what they did to my husband," she leaned forwards even more, her body tensing up, I could see her from the corner of my eye, getting full of desperation. I sensed Arthur glance at me.

My heart ached. We were finally away from Dutch and I had hoped that it would be the end of Arthur risking his life over grudges. I could handle him going with Charles to break a good man out of prison, I wasn't happy about the risk he was putting himself at but I knew he had to do it. But going to kill O'Driscolls? I was so conflicted. Sadie deserved closure over what happened to her husband, but I didn't want to lose Arthur over it. I couldn't stand it if we came this far only to–

"Please, Arthur. I need someone to ride with me. I can't go in there on my own but if I got no one–” Sadie's voice cracked and my eyes flashed up to her. "You're the only one I trust to do this with me and do it right. And I gotta do it, Arthur, I can't just let them get away with it. Please."

I stared at Sadie, feeling her pain emanating from her in waves, it made the hairs on my arms stand up and bile rise in my throat. My eyes tingled as tears threatened to form there, and Arthur looked at me again. Then Sadie did. Suddenly, I found, it was my choice, without even saying a word. 

I nervously toyed with the locket around my neck, and saw Arthur's eyes momentarily flitter down to it. 

"Arthur you–" I began after some time, when it was made clear that they were waiting on my blessing. Mine. Like I had any control over anything. "Sadie's done so much for us," I said monotonously, though it wasn't without feeling, "it's clear she needs this." 

"Thank you!" Sadie exhaled, and I rose to my feet. 

"I need to sleep," I whispered, then stepped over the log I'd been sitting on and headed for the tent I shared with Arthur. "Goodnight."

I climbed inside and laid down on my bedroll, wrapping myself up in the blanket and curling up on my side. I could hear quiet voices outside the tent, a muffled mix of soft tones from both Sadie and Arthur, none of which I could make out as words. It was only a few minutes before cool air filled the tent as the flap was pulled back, and Arthur climbed in beside me. He shuffled around, getting under his own blanket and scooting up behind me, his hand gingerly resting on my hip.

"Princess," he whispered. I made a small hum of acknowledgement. "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head, and Arthur exhaled, then kissed the shell of my ear. 

"Talk to me, please."

"I'm sorry Arthur. I'm trying not to put a leash on you, and trying to give Sadie the opportunity to get justice for her husband. All the while I'm worrying any one of these jobs people have you doing'll be the one that kills you. Right when we're finally doing what we've been waiting for," I whispered. Arthur's hand gently drifted up and down my side, his lips still at my ear giving me little pecks. 

"I could try to reassure you, but it won't help, will it?" He said softly, sadly. I shook my head. "What do you want me to do instead?" 

"Nothing. I don't want you to do anything, Arthur. I can't ask you not to do all these things. That's why I came in here to sleep, cause I know anything I say ain't gonna do any good."

"Are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not," I breathed, then rolled over to face him. "I'm not mad, I'm worried. And I'll be worried until we're away from here for good. That's it. All I need from you is just to hold me right now, so I can enjoy the time I have with you," I told him, and kissed his chin. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head.

"Just a couple more jobs, princess, then it's over. I promise," he told me. 

"Please keep your word," I whispered, closing my eyes and nestling my face into his collar. 

"I will. I'm under nobody's thumb no more, I do what I want. These things, they're just… they're things I gotta do for my friends. I know you understand that, right?"

"I do. It's why I'm not stopping you."

"I'm real lucky I have you. And that you're like this. You're a good woman," he told me and I chuckled, shaking my head a little. 

"You don't have to flatter me, Arthur."

"I ain't flattering. I'm thanking you. Thank you," he said, pressed his lips momentarily to the crown of my head. "I love you."

"I love you too," I replied. 

After a few moments of silence, Arthur spoke again. "Can I ask you something? Or shall I let you sleep?"

"Now I'm curious about the question. Go on," I answered.

"Where'd you get that locket from? The one you been wearing since I got back. Looks familiar." 

The question surprised me. It wasn't anything like what I was expecting, and I laughed. Then stopped when I considered my answer. My heart was suddenly pounding because I knew I had to address how I had felt while he was away in Guarma.

"It was Susan's," I told him. "She gave it to me."

"That'll be why it's familiar," he mused. 

"It has a photograph of you inside it," I added. He was quiet for a moment.

"It does?" He questioned, tone going up a note.

I hummed my confirmation. "I… I was real bad for a while when you was gone. Susan wanted to cheer me up. I haven't taken it off since."

"Did it make you feel better?"

"A little. It was nice to have something of you, at least. But it didn't hurt any less, that you were gone."

"It would've been a comfort to have something of you with me while I was away. I thought about you constantly, I wanted to see your face just once… I didn't even have my journal, with my drawings of you. They don't live up to the real thing but they're something, at least," he whispered, squeezing me tight. 

"Let me see them," I whispered, kissing his collar bone. He made a small sound, a sort of hum, sort of sigh. 

"My drawings?"

I nodded as I moved back a little to look at him. "I've only seen a couple of your drawings of me. How many have you done?" 

"More than you've seen," he chuckled sheepishly, then rolled onto his back, staring up at the top of the tent. I shifted onto my elbow and gazed down at him. 

"May I see?" I questioned insistently, his grin widened. He was embarrassed, it was clear. "It's just me," I whispered, stroking my hand over his chest.

"Just you? That's the problem."

"Problem?"

"I'm worried I'll embarrass you." 

"Why would I be embarrassed?" I laughed. Arthur sighed and met my eyes.