#ftsbs

Benson… He played them like a fiddle. Arthur brushed it off when she asked what would come of it. He just said, “Dutch is handling it.” Whatever that meant. She decided not to take it personally, mostly because she didn’t have the energy for it.

It took a few days to manage to eat a full meal due to the nausea from all the medication. Strauss gave her wound a look and he told her that it seemed that it was just the muscle tissue that had been damaged, which was good, but that only meant that the pain was amplified tenfold every time she moved her body more than an inch at a time. But she was sick of laying around like a log, so she powered through it as best she could.

She eventually moved back to her own lean-to when Jenny relocated to her new spot near Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen. She had come over to talk to Annie a few times, thanking her for helping when she could have left her behind and to help he get back on her feet. She was a sweet girl, only 19. She didn’t say much about where she came from, only that she wasn’t lying about the death of her mother and her father got remarried to a “wretch of a woman”. She left home at 16 and had been a swindler ever since. The O’Driscolls picked her up on their way East and what started as a simple business deal between them ended with them threatening her life if she didn’t do what they asked.

Annie took a liking to her fairly quickly, but still held herself at a distance. Her suspicion of outsiders has been somewhat heightened since the botched robbery. She’d done a lot of thinking during her recovery, and a lot of questions remained unanswered. How did they know about the hit? Was Benson and his employer in on it? Who was his employer? No one seemed to want to talk to her about it. Though, with her stubborn nature and after days of being essentially helpless, she couldn’t help but pry into it further.

“Hosea, c’mon,” she said, hobbling after the man as he strode towards Dutch’s tent. “Don’t tell me you ain’t thinkin’ the same thing.”

“I assure you, I am not thinking the same thing, Annie,” he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “You sure don’t know when to quit, do you? Even with a hole in your abdomen you’re full speed ahead.”

Admittedly, her theory was a bit off the wall, even for her. She was convinced that Benson was hired by the Marshals to go undercover to catch them. It would explain why he insisted to meet them in front of the Sheriff's office and why he was so secretive about who he was working for. That’s what Annie thought, at least. She spoke with conviction, but the lack of evidence to prove it was not working in her favor.

“At least admit it’s suspicious,” she insisted, wrestling with her dress as she tried to keep up with Hosea. She had resigned to wearing one of Karen’s old skirts and blouses to accommodate for the bandages and she’d never hated anything more.

“I believe we’re past suspicion at this point. Give it a rest.”

“Please, Hosea, just let me in on this.”

He paused and faced her just before he was about to push open the flap of Dutch’s tent. “You need to heal.”

“I’m healed.”

“You can barely walk.”

“I can still think straight.”

He scoffed. “You’re doing everything but thinking straight.”

“Just... give me a chance to get back on my feet. I’m dyin’ here.” She gave him a longing look, pleading with her eyes to let her contribute at least something.

He sighed and put his hands on his hips, exasperated. Glancing at the ground and then back up at her, he shook his head and groaned. Without a word, he gestured for her to follow him inside Dutch’s tent. She grinned.

“All I’m sayin’ is that we need more money. That is the plan,” Dutch was saying as they entered. Hosea took a seat next to him, grabbing a beer from the crate on the table.

Arthur was with them, looking as annoyed and impatient as ever. He glanced up to see Annie find a spot next to him and opposite Dutch. John was in the corner, seemingly sleeping and Micah was pacing in the middle of everyone.

“Well,” Dutch continued, looking from Annie to Hosea and then back again. “It’s mighty cozy in here, ain’t it fellas?”

“I don’t remember you gettin’ invited, Princess,” Micah jeered.

Annie rolled her eyes and ignored him.

“So, the plan is... just to get more money?” John said, massaging his brow with his palm.

“Sounds simple enough,” Arthur said, sighing.

“We have any leads?” Annie asked.

“Arthur and I reckon we have a few cards up our sleeves,” Hosea said, sipping his beer.

“Mister Bell here thinks he’s got somethin’ as well,” Dutch said, failing to give more information.

She raised an eyebrow. “Well…? Either of you care to elaborate?”

“Hosea here seems to think he’s caught on to some kind of a real estate scam,” Arthur said.

Hosea grinned. “It’s ‘the perfect crime’ if I say so myself.”

They looked over at Dutch, waiting for his explanation. He had a sly twinkle in his eye as he spoke. “We don’t have many details as of yet, but we assure you all that this is somethin’ huge.”

“Just keep in mind that we don’t need to put ourselves at any additional risk after what happened with the O’Driscolls.” Hosea said.

Dutch opened his arms and smiled. “Have some faith, dear Mister Matthews. This is our ticket outta here.”

“Where are we plannin’ on goin’, then?” Arthur asked plainly.

“Wherever the hell we want, son. Just away from here, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sold on that,” John said. “That’s all then?”

“Patience, my boys,” Dutch said. “I need you all to be on your best behavior now, you hear? That means keeping your ears to the ground and bringing in everything we can. We’ll need all we can get.”

Micah, John, and Arthur nodded and all stood to leave.

“What’s my job here?” Annie piped up. They turned to her, all seemingly to have forgotten she was there.

“Your job is to heal that bullet wound, Annie darlin’,” Dutch said. She hated when he called her that.

“I didn’t get shot in the head, I still got a brain. I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are, but we’ll need your gun too when the time comes. That means you’ll need to be one-hundred percent. Sit this one out.”

She looked between all of them, waiting for one of them to vouch for her. No one spoke up. “Well, have you all figured out what Benson’s plan was? Did he play us?”

“Of course he played us, that much is a given.”

“So… that’s it then?”

“Revenge is a fool’s game, Annie, you know I’ve always said that.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about revenge. What if there’s more to it? Whoever he’s workin’ for- what if they come back to finish the job?”

“That’s the least of our concerns,” Micah said, scornfully. “Leave it to you to get caught up on somethin’ like that when we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

She ignored him and turned to Hosea. “Help me out here.”

He sighed and glanced away. “Annie, we all talked about the Benson business. We’ve decided that it’s best we move on and just… put it behind us.”

Annie leaned back and crossed her arms. In the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur shift uncomfortably. “Right. Sure. Okay, then. Glad that was settled.”

“If you have something on your mind, it might be best to say it,” Dutch said.

Annie hesitated. The men in the tent watched her with anticipation. She didn’t make a habit of back talking Dutch, but she was one of the only ones that ever really dared to. She looked down at the skirt she was wearing and folded her hands in her lap. She decided that the chance to go on the offense would come later and the diplomatic approach would be better suited to the situation.

She looked up calmly and her voice was steady. “With the bankroll delivery, you were quick to accept that it was a setup after the fact. I’m pointing out that if we can get out in front of this, we can head it off before it happens again.”

“We had this conversation already,” Dutch flared. “We’re done with Benson. And that is final.”

“Dutch, think about this-.”

“We have done a lot of thinkin’, and I am sorry you weren’t there for it, but we have got to keep moving forward.”

She glared at him, her composure melting with the frustration mounting within her. “What happens if they don’t miss next time? If one of our own gets killed? It’ll be ‘cause you didn’t wanna do anything about it when you had the chance.”

“Annie,” Dutch warned. Hosea and John watched nervously while Arthur and Micah were visibly on edge. “Doubt ain’t gonna get us anywhere.”

“Annie, let it go,” Arthur mumbled as he placed a hand on her shoulder, but she instantly knocked it away.

She turned to him and shot to her feet. “You agree?”

“It’s best we move on,” he said, raising his voice slightly.

She looked at everyone in the tent with cold eyes, challenging them to say something more.

“Annie, let’s go have a talk,” Hosea said.

“Nah, I think we’ve all done enough talkin’,” she said, grimacing with disappointment.

“Well, that we can agree on, Miss Bolton,” Dutch said, lowly.

Arthur was the first to break the tension. He snatched his hat off his chair and shoved it onto his head. “If you’re all finished, I have things to do.”

With that, he burst out of the tent with Micah and John following suit, seeing their chance to escape whatever gang politics were about to ensue. Annie rushed after Arthur as he headed toward the horses, holding her side as it panged with each hurried step she took.

“Arthur! Arthur, hold on,” she called. He ignored her and stormed further and further from camp. “Arthur, goddamnit!”

He whirled around throwing his hands up from his side. “What the hell is it, Annie?”

Her eyebrows synched together and her nostrils flared with anger. “What just happened in there?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“I’m tryin’ to make the right decision to protect everyone in this damn camp.”

“Were you protecting the gang? Or just sayin’ all that for yourself?”

She threw her arms up in exasperation. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothin’ that’s any of your business, that’s for sure.”

“I’m thinkin’ it is, since you’ve seemed to have such a sour attitude with me lately. Even before the Benson job you’ve been actin’ like a damn child.”

“I’m a child?” he laughed, mockingly. “That’s bold comin’ from you.”

“The hell are you on about?”

“You arguin’ with Dutch in there for no reason. Tryin’ to make it seem like you’re the only one who could possibly be right.”

“And Dutch is the one that’s always right, is he? He has good intentions, I know that. But his last plan didn’t work out too well, if you remember that part.”

“That was our plan.” He shoved a finger in her face and lowered his voice to a harsh growl. “You got no place to be doin’ that. Everything he does is for this gang, every decision he makes is for us. And I might be actin’ like a child, but at least I ain’t the one that’s runnin’.”

She stepped closer to him, so that only he could hear what she said through clenched teeth. “I thought we talked about this.”

“Yeah. We did. And then you got shot.”

“What?”

“At first you wanna leave and make all these plans to ‘help one last time’ and now you’re tryin’ to get in on all these major decisions, as if you weren’t already packin’ your bags.” he said, the bitterness in his voice cutting her to the core. “What’s the idea, Annie? Stick your hand into Dutch’s plans like you run the show and then make it so that we need you more than you need us right before you make a break for it?”

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. “It ain’t like that, Arthur, none of it is.”

“Then what? What are you gonna do?”

She couldn’t piece together her own thoughts. “I told you already.”

“You sure did. And now you’re plannin’ to get in on one of these jobs and collect what you can to be rid of us all.”

She couldn’t fathom what he was saying. He was acting like she was betraying them when before he said that he understood. That he was wrong for thinking this was in her own interest. But like a lightbulb flipping on in her head, she realized something.

“Dutch talked to you, didn’t he?”

He hesitated, just for a moment and Annie knew the truth before he uttered another word. “That don’t matter.”

“Jesus Christ. I can’t believe this. You fuckin’ told him, didn’t you?”

“No. But I’m regrettin’ that right about now.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh really? Go on then. Run to Dutch. Tell him my little secret.”

Arthur glared at her. For a second, the anger in his eyes made her think he might call her bluff. She knew how much this gang meant to him and how she was wrong to expect him to think otherwise about her plans to leave. He was a loyal man, if nothing else. The redeeming qualities he possessed were rare, but she admired him for them all. This was his family. And she felt terrible for imposing her own agenda on it. But after everything they’ve been through together, she owed him the truth.

“I won’t say nothin’. You deserve that much. But I’ll tell you this, Annie Bolton. Once you leave, there ain’t no comin’ back.”

She looked down in shame, the sharpness of his words not missing their mark. “John came back.” It’s all she could say in her defense.

He scoffed. “Yeah, John, the family man of the century. He came back ‘cause he’s a goddamn idiot who knew he shouldn’t’ve even left in the first place. This? What you’re doin’? This is different. We both know that.”

“I’m not betraying you, Arthur. Whatever Dutch said-.”

“You might not be betrayin’ me, sure. But you’re leavin’ everyone else. Everyone who put their trust in you. Everyone who cares for you, who’s helped you. That’s just the same.”

She stared at him, trying to maintain the last bit of composure she had left. “Maybe so.”

“I said I wouldn’t argue with you no more, and I meant it. I just ain’t gonna take this lyin’ down. You’re free to do what you please. Don’t mean I gotta stand by it.”

“I understand,” she said firmly, trying to hide the pain his words had inflicted.

He hesitated as he reached to grab his horse’s reins. His conflict raged inside him, unbeknownst to Annie. He understood where her intentions were. But he couldn’t stop hearing Dutch’s words play over and over in his own head. “She’ll leave us one day, Arthur. She’ll leave us behind and never look back.” He looked up at her from under the brim of his hat, staring at him with a look that he’s seen too many times in a woman’s eyes. He saw spot of red was starting to form on her shirt just above the waist of her skirt.

“You’re, uh....”

She looked down and covered the spot of blood on her waist with her hand, suddenly embarrassed. She felt weak in all sense of the word. Dutch was right. There was nothing she could do for herself in this state, let alone anyone else.

“I’m gonna go get this patched up, then,” she said in a small voice.

“You do that.”

She turned back towards camp and as she heard Boadicea’s hooves pound away into the distance, she did her best to suppress the tears that were pricking her eyes, but the floodgates were fragile.

***

A few days later Mary-Beth had lent Annie a book to read to occupy her mind after she nearly ripped open her stitches trying to chop wood to “let off some steam”. It was a penny dreadful about barber that murdered his customers and baked them into pies, which she found rather intriguing, if not a little outlandish. Though even with something to hold her interest, she was growing more and more frustrated by the minute.

Her conversation with Arthur had put distance between them. He hadn’t spoken to her since, not that she was looking for any conversation with him. It was still… strange. She had other friends at camp, sure, but actively avoiding one of them was an alienating feeling.

She heard through the grapevine about the job that Micah supposedly was onto. He’d picked up from a “contact” that a $150,000 shipment of bank money was on a riverboat and scheduled to dock in Blackwater in two days time. The potential payoff was probably worth the risk, but she wondered how exactly Dutch planned to rob a fucking ferry.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Tilly’s voice brought her back to the present.

“What thing?” She said, sitting up against the wagon wheel under the girls’ tent.

“That thing where you stare at a page for ten minutes and don’t read a word. You keep doin’ it.”

“Sorry.” She closed the book and ran a hand through her hair, toying with the stray strands that had come out of her braid.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothin’. Well, a lot, but nothin’ too important, I guess.”

Tilly raised an eyebrow. She was stitching a tear in a shirt Annie didn’t recognize, but had rested her hands in her lap to eye her carefully. “Is it Arthur?”

Annie blushed but quickly shook her head. “Nah, not him. Well, sorta. In part. It’s just…”

“Dutch, then?”

“You know about that?”

“It’s not a very big camp, Annie.”

Annie scoffed. “I guess not.”

“You can’t keep mouthin’ off to him like that.”

“I know. I was just angry.”

“Well, your temper has always been a force to be reckoned with, Miss Bolton.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware, Miss Jackson.”

“Well, I guess that counts for somethin’,” she said, smirking and returning to her sewing. “What happened with you and Arthur, anyhow?”

Annie shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, nothin’ really. Just a stupid fight about Dutch.”

“Just about Dutch?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I was just mad.”

“He looked pretty mad, too.”

“I said some things I shouldn’t have,” Annie sighed. “That’s all.”

“You know, for a con-artist, you’re pretty bad at lyin’,” Tilly said with a hint of mischief in her voice.

Annie looked up at her, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I seen the way you look at him.”

“I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”

Tilly cocked an eyebrow. “I also seen the way he looks at you.”

Annie’s jaw tightened and she looked away. She couldn’t think straight enough to say anything.

“Whatever’s goin’ on with you two, it’s clear y’all care about each other more than either of you let on.”

“We’re all family, of course we do.”

Tilly rolled her eyes. “That ain’t what I meant and you know it.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this, Tilly.”

“Sure, you don’t want to talk about it, but you should.”

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause it’s just gonna eat away at you otherwise. You’ve been losin’ sleep, you barely eat, it’s already takin’ its toll. And don’t tell me it’s because you got a bullet put through you, you’ve been fine since you tried to cut firewood the other day, for goodness sake.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“Deniaaal,” she sang.

“Tilly, drop it, will you?”

“Fine, fine. But the Annie Bolton I know is braver than all this.”

Annie lifted herself up and sat on the stool in front of the washboard tub, grabbing a filthy shirt that resembled one of Sean’s and began scrubbing. Tilly’s words lingered in the air. “I also seen the way he looks at you.” Did Arthur look at her? Did she want him to? The last few weeks had been so confusing. If she really was going to leave, she knew she couldn’t think of him like that, let alone tell him or acknowledge it.

She wished she could tell Tilly. Her and the rest of the girls had always been so kind to her. In the back of her mind, she knew they’d understand if she told them the truth about why she had to leave. Grimshaw would be the one to give her shit for it, but understandably so. She’d been with Dutch almost as long as Annie’s been alive. She held this gang together as much as Dutch and Hosea did and was like a mother to most everyone, despite her crass nature. For as much as Annie didn’t like her, she still respected the hell out of her.

She managed to scrub through a whole batch of laundry before she realized that Tilly had left to help Mary-Beth with feeding the chickens. The camp seemed somewhat serene with most everyone out working or sitting quietly. For the first time in a while, things felt peaceful. Abigail was watching Jack play down near the river. Hosea was lounging under his lean-to reading quietly. Pearson, Strauss, Uncle, and Javier were playing a friendly game of poker near the fire, all laughing and talking like the old friends they were.

Arthur was sitting on his bed with that damn journal in his lap, scribbling furiously. Annie watched him from afar, her hands absentmindedly scrubbing the last of the clothes. His face was scrunched up with concentration. Even from her distance, she could see the lines on his forehead defined by his focused expression. She thought it commendable that he kept a journal. It was something she could never keep up with, even when she tried. She longed to know what he wrote about and drew so often. She longed to know why he kept it so private and what his thoughts were that even the journal didn’t get to know. She longed to know him.

The thought was jarring. Her attention snapped back to her task as she tried to shake it, but it lingered. She did know him, didn’t she? His favorite color was blue. He sang when he was bored, he did more chores around camp when he thought no one would notice, he likes coffee in the mornings, and he’s smarter than he’d ever let on. Underneath it all, he was fair and kind and loving. But the more she thought about it, there was so much she didn’t know.

She knew he had a son once, but not his name. She knew he loved a girl while back, Mary, but not how it ended. Why did he know so much about ancient Rome and literature? Why did he seem so pained every time he talked about his father, as rare as it was?

Why did he insist on confusing the hell out of her?

She caught the eye of Abigail walking over to her with a soft smile on her face. Putting on a grin of her own, she greeted her. “Hi there, Abigail. Looked like Jack was havin’ fun down there.”

“Well, let’s just see if he takes after his father when it comes to water.”

Annie laughed. “We can only hope not.”

“Do you need help with hanging all that?” she asked as she motioned to the pile of wet clothes in the basket next to her.

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

The pair of them took a handle of the basket and made their way to the clothesline on the other side of the wagon. They hung the garments one by one and secured them with pins, working in silence for a while.

“I realize we haven’t talked much recently,” Annie said. “How are you?”

“As good as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Abigail said with a sigh. “You? How’s that battle scar of yours?”

“Good. A lot better, if I’m honest.”

Abigail scoffed. “Better for you, maybe. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Keep taking it slow.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You, uh… You talk to John lately? He’s been kinda absent. More so than usual. It’s a shock, I know.”

Annie shook her head. “No, sorry.”

“Arthur has been too, come to think of it.” She paused for Annie’s respond, but she didn’t say anything. “Do you think it has to do with whatever Dutch has been plannin’?”

“If I knew what Dutch was plannin’, I’d be able to tell you.”

“Wait, you’re not in on this ferry job they’re gettin’ up to?”

“Nope.”

“What about that real estate business that Hosea was talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Not that either.”

Abigail frowned in surprise. “Huh. Well, I guess it’s good for you to rest.”

“It don’t feel good.”

Abigail smiled. “Yeah, I know how ‘women’s work’ ain’t really your thing.”

“No, no, it ain’t that-.”

“It’s fine, Annie,” she laughed and held up a shirt with a brown stain still on the collar. “You ain’t very good at washin’, anyways.”

Annie smirked. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

For a moment, they worked in silence again. Abigail was a kind soul and Annie always felt close to her. Probably because she didn’t feel like she fit in here either. She was only 22, four years younger than Annie, but she already had a 5-year-old son and had to deal with his father not being in the picture most of the time. That had to be alienating, especially in a place where it was sacrilegious to talk about leaving the outlaw life.

“Hey, Abigail?” Annie suddenly said. “You wanna come to town with Jenny and I? I told her I’d take her to the stables and help get her a horse.”

“Yeah, yeah I’d love to!” Abigail’s face lit up at the invitation, but almost immediately sank. “But… Jack.”

“Tilly can watch him,” Annie suggested, shrugging and gesturing over to where Jack was now throwing chicken feed around with Tilly and Mary-Beth.

“Oh, well, I suppose it’s only for a few hours. I’ll go make sure it’s alright with her.”

Annie hung the last shirt on the line and went back to her lean-to to change out of the borrowed skirt and into something more comfortable for her. A loose black shirt and and an old pair of blue jeans that rose higher on her waist than she’d have liked would have to do for the time being. She went without suspenders and buckled her gunbelt carefully around her hips, avoiding the fresh bandages she’d just put on.

She thumbed the brim of her hat, touching it for the first time since Charles was kind enough to ride back for the day after she and Jenny turned up to camp. It was under the guise of a hunting trip at first, but he told her that he knew how much she loved that old thing. He was always one of the good ones. She tilted it onto her head and whistled to Jenny across the way.

“Hey, let’s head into town, it’s already noon.”

Jenny, startled out of her conversation with Lenny, quickly told him goodbye and jogged over to Annie, giddy as ever. “Are we takin’ your horse?”

Annie looked over at Nero grazing next to Taima, content as ever. She didn’t want to bother him - the thought made her silently laugh to herself. “Nah, we’ll take the wagon. Abigail is comin’ with us.”

“Oh, okay,” Jenny said, shyly but with a small smile.

“I’m ready to go when you two are,” Abigail said as she walked up. Annie noticed she’d applied a bit of color to her lips and her hair was neater than before. Seeing Abigail excited to go to town was enough to bring a smile to her face.

“You look lovely, Miss Roberts. Let’s head out then,” she said. “Pearson has the wagon hooked up for a supply run, so we can do that while we’re there, too.”

The three of them walked across camp and over to the wagon. Pearson was jotting something down on a slip of paper as he stood next to the driver’s seat, looking agitated as ever.

“Mister Pearson,” Annie said, pulling his attention away from his frantic work. “We’ll grab what you need in town, we’re headed there now.”

“Oh, thank you Annie,” he said as he glanced at Abigail and Jenny mounting up on the wagon and then back at his list. “Make sure you get the coffee, we’re almost clean out.”

“The world would surely end if we ran out of coffee,” Abigail said, making Jenny giggle.

Annie took Pearson’s list and grocery money and took her place in the driver’s seat. When she turned back to wave goodbye, she caught Arthur’s eye. He was staring up at them, his journal still open in his lap. He looked sad. She held his gaze for a moment longer and he nodded politely, a gesture he hadn’t given her in a long time. It’s like she was a stranger to him, and it hurt more than it should have. She steeled herself and looked away to drive the horses forward.

He gestured to the property and raised his arms in defeat. “I can’t run all this my damn self. I’m going to town today to post something at the general store for a ranch hand. I know you said you didn’t want to hire help because of the money, but-.”

“I jus’,” Bridget paused and looked down. She softened her tone and clasped her hands together, hesitantly. “I jus’ want this to work for us. For our family.”

The man sighed and took her hands. “We’ll make it work, darling. I promise you that. We’ve been beating the odds so far.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that Michael bein’ sick’s got me worried.”

“He’s got your stubbornness, love,” Nick smirked. “He’ll make it through.”

Bridget giggled and pulled him in for a hug. “Be safe on the road, alright?”

“Anastasia!” Nick called. Annie’s own ears perked up as she watched the little girl stand and rush to Nick’s side. He bent down and kissed the top of her head, ruffling her thick, brown hair, messing her ponytail. “Be a good girl and help your mother while I’m gone. I’ll be back for supper.”

“I will, daddy.”

Annie saw the riders before anyone else did. They had come across the field, unnoticed by the couple until they were in front of the house. They were only about five strong, but something about them seemed… evil. The chills up Annie’s spine were enough to convince her to follow her instincts, but when she tried to step forward, she couldn’t move.

“Hello,” Nick said, slowly striding toward his family to stand between them and the strangers. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

The man in front said something, but his voice was distorted and incoherent. Annie tried to make out their faces, but they were dark, as if they were shrouded by shadows somehow. 

“Of course, it’s about 10 miles in that direction,” Nick said, pointing to the west. 

The man said something else and Bridget shifted uncomfortably. She turned to the little girl, and shuffled her inside the house. “Sweetheart, go check on your brother, will you?” She shut the door before the girl could protest

“The well’s just out back,” Nick answered. “Help yourself.”

The men hitched their horses near the corral and stalked around to the back of the property. The couple exchanged a few words Annie couldn’t make out and both went inside. She heard a board slide into place behind the door, locking it as best they could. Panic flooded into her chest, but she still couldn't move.

A few moments passed and the men went to leave. But one of them, the first one, seemed to stop them. They paused and slowly turned back towards the house, drawing their guns as they approached.

Annie tried to scream, to warn the family, but no noise came. She tried to draw her own gun, but the familiar hilt of her revolver turned to dust at her touch. She was trembling, her feet cemented in the ground and vocal chords seemingly ripped out of her own throat. 

The men stepped onto the small porch and knocked on the door.

“You all best be getting out of here,” Nick said from inside. 

The men’s laughs were clearer than anything she’d ever heard before. Like an operatic chorus, it resonated in her ears and made her skin crawl over her own flesh. She tried to scream again. Nothing. The first man stepped back and slammed the sole of his boot into the center of the door. THUD. The laughter grew louder as he did it again. THUD. And again. THUD And again.

Like a gunshot, the sound of splintering wood was deafening. The air shattered. Darkness consumed the sky. 

***

Annie bolted awake in a cold-sweat. The pain in her side seemed to shoot knives through her whole body with the sudden movement, and for a moment it felt as if the men had turned their guns on her instead, her ears still ringing from the final moments of the dream. A dream… it was just a dream. 

Morphine induced nightmares were always brutal. The last time she’d taken some after she’d been shot the first time, she had the same dream about falling off a cliff, over and over again. But this one she hadn’t seen before. Though, the lingering feeling it left her with gave her the sense that she had. 

She tried to catch her breath as she glanced around to orient herself. She was laying in Arthur’s cot in camp, and she noticed the crescent moon peeking out from behind a few clouds. How long have I been asleep?

A soft snore to her beside her caught her attention. Arthur was tucked into his bedroll and an extra wool blanket, curled into a ball to keep warm. His arm was outstretched towards the bed, palm down, and she briefly wondered if he’d fallen asleep holding her hand. The thought brought a soft smile to her face and a calm washed over her, her heartbeat slowing from the panic of the dream. The pain from the wound throbbed since the medication wore off, but it suddenly didn’t even matter. 

Letting herself fall back onto the pillow, she turned towards him as much as her body would allow her. She watched him breathe steadily, with the occasional twitch in his sleep. His face was soft and peaceful, the wrinkles near his eyes not as pronounced as they usually are. He looked younger, almost. Innocent and kind like the man she only saw glimpses of from under the facade of anger and ruthlessness. 

“It’s more beautiful that I’ve seen in a while,” Charles said, joining her at her side as she gazed at the horizon.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen it this red in quite some time.” Annie said, glancing at him as she absentmindedly adjusted the buckles on her saddlebags.

“Supposedly that means we’ll be getting good weather soon.”

“Good weather? Here? That’s likely.”

Charles chuckled lightly and returned his attention to oiling his gun. Annie caught Arthur’s eye as he was saddling Boadicea, strapping the girth as tight as he could. He hadn’t said much to her outside of hesitantly discussing details for the job. He glanced at Charles as he stalked away, and then back at Annie with a new look of tension in his eyes. She watched him angrily jam the buckle into place on his saddle and begin to adjust the rest of his gear. 

“You good, Morgan?” she called.

He didn’t look up to meet her eyes. “Yep. You?”

“Yep.”

“Great.”

Annie nodded and hid a sly smile. Whatever he was upset about, it was something trivial for sure. He wasn’t one to keep his opinions to himself unless it meant he knew it was about  something foolish. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, she bit her tongue as she thought of ways she could eventually confront him about his sour mood as of late. 

“What are you laughin’ at, Princess?” Micah drawled, making Annie’s skin crawl.

“I caught a glimpse of your ugly damn face,” she said, eliciting a snicker or two in the background. “Couldn’t quite help myself.”

“Yeah, ha-ha, very funny. You’ll be thinkin’ about my face tonight in your dreams… amongst other things.”

Sean and Charles snapped their heads up in horror to watch what would happen next, but Annie simply chuckled. “You’re right! I’ll be dreamin’ about your face and how twisted it’ll look when I’m skinnin’ you alive.”

Micah laughed. “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t you?”

“Micah,” Dutch warned. “You keep provoking her like that, I’ll be tempted to cut her loose on you.”

Annie tauntingly snapped her teeth at him as he stalked away to finish readying up. Dutch shot her a knowing smile and she just shrugged. Even though he was newer to the gang, it was a common thing for Micah to let his mouth run longer than anyone wanted to hear it, especially if it was directed toward Lenny, Charles or any of the women. Annie enjoyed putting him in his place, though admittedly, he figured out how to push her buttons fairly quickly. It was almost admirable. 

By the time the gang had shared cigarettes and a small bite to eat, it was dusk and Dutch called for them to mount up. As they took formation to ride off, Annie nodded to Karen who winked and cocked her shotgun to assume her place guarding camp. “Come back safe, y’all!” 

“Men! Let’s ride!” Dutch bellowed and spurred The Count to a gallop and the wild faces of the Van der Linde Gang cheered and took off after him.  

The thunder of thirteen horses racing across the plains would have been a fearsome sight to anyone. The ground trembled as they moved swiftly up the road in a tight two-by-two formation with Dutch at the head, Hosea and Arthur just behind him, and John and Annie taking up the rear. The rendezvous point was about a forty-minute ride north, though, it felt longer with the building anxiety in the air, no matter how hard Annie tried to ignore it. Arthur and Dutch began exchanging words up ahead, slowing the pace to a steady jog as they neared the location. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” John mumbled, low enough for only her to hear. 

“Yeah,” she said, glancing over to meet his fickle eyes. “Me too. I… Let’s just get it over with.”

John looked nervous, but he nodded in agreement all the same. For a moment, she swore she saw Jack’s face flash before her. John had to stay safe for his son’s sake, if not his own.

Their posse moved at a steady pace down the road and with a glance around at the surrounding landscape, Annie knew they were getting close. Eventually, she heard a familiar whistle from up front. The riders slowed as Benson and a few of his men came into view just ahead on horseback. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Dutch said, riding up next to them.

“Mister Kilgore, so nice to see you again!” Benson said. 

“I believe we can be straight with each other now, Mister Benson,” Dutch said, sliding down from The Count.

Benson sighed, resigning himself to the failure of his ruse. “Yes, I agree, Mister Van der Linde. I trust we can count on each other’s discretion.”

“Glad to see we have an understanding, then.”

“Certainly. Shall we proceed?”

“Of course.”

Annie was surprised to see that he only had three men with him. Though, that’s most likely why his “employer” was seeking the help of outlaws. He tensed when he recognized her, but he managed to smile politely. She tipped her hat and smirked, subtly reminding him that he was outnumbered if he felt the need to try anything.

Dutch confirmed the details of their plan and the diversion with Benson. There was an old abandoned house a few hundred yards off the road from where they would launch the ambush. Benson’s men would blow it up and make sure it caught fire to catch the attention of the escorts that were now all suspected to be lawmen. 

“Lawmen?” Dutch asked suspiciously. “All of them?”

“We have scouts along the route,” Benson said. “In Van Horne, they traded their hired guns for deputies. Not to worry, this shouldn’t change a thing. In fact, we can use this to our advantage. Deputies will be more inclined to answer a call for help along their journey. It will work.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that it’ll work,” Dutch said. “I’m sure everything will go according to plan.”

“Indeed, Mister Van der Linde, it shall.”

“What my friend here is too polite to say,” Annie said and cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention to her, “is that if it don’t go according to plan, you’ll be the first one we come lookin’ for.”

Dutch turned back to Benson and clapped him on the shoulder. “She’s right, I am too polite to say it. But we have… an understanding. So surely that is not a situation that we will come across.” 

Benson avoided her eyes and cleared his throat. “I assure you, I anticipate this to go off without a hitch. I know you all to be true to your word.”

Dutch laughed and mounted his horse. “Yes, that we are, my friend. Let’s get this show on the road, then! Shall we?”

“Alright, everyone split off,” Arthur said. “Mac, Bill, Hosea, Javier you’re with me. John, Lenny, and Davey, you’ll go with Dutch and Charles, Sean, and Micah are with Annie.”

“Cream of the crop,” Micah grumbled to himself but loud enough for everyone to hear. Annie glared at him as he rode over to join her, Sean and Charles not far behind. “Who organized these damn groups, anyways?”

“I did,” Annie deadpanned. She wanted to keep an eye on the loose cannon of the crew and Hosea had been more than happy to let her take that responsibility.

“Aw, you really are sweet on me, ain’t ya?” he winked at her.

Charles groaned and Sean chuckled. “Last person she’d be sweet on is you, ya ol’ sack o’ shit.”

Annie chuckled quietly. She always had a fondness for Sean and his lack of a social filter. Silently, she motioned for her counterparts to follow and started off to the top of the northernmost hill.

“Watch for Hosea’s signal,” Annie said. They could see the silhouettes of the men on the opposite ridge illuminated in the moonlight, one of them waving. She waved back to confirm they were in view.

“This could take a while,” Sean groaned.

“Yes, and you’d do well to keep quiet,” Charles said. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Ambush, or whatever. That Benson fella seems a bit curious, don’t ya think?” 

“Shut up, Sean,” Annie said. 

“I’m jus’ sayin’.”

“Hmm, I agree,” Charles added. “He was a bit fidgety. This could turn out to be more than it seems.”

“I’m countin’ on it,” Annie mumbled. 

“That why it took so damn long for you fools to jump on this thing?” Micah asked.

“Shut your damn mouth and focus, idiot,” she snapped, shooting him a glare that could kill. 

They finally fell silent and Annie turned her attention to the horizon where the house was set to blow. Any minute, they would be coming up on the horizon...

There they are. About a mile off, she saw the first of the riders pull into view, illuminated by their lantern lights. She counted six escorts and four wagons. Hosea waved his hat and she returned the gesture and while Lenny was out of view, she prayed he saw him. 

“Here we go,” she said. “Masks up.”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ ready,” Sean said, bouncing in his saddle. 

Waiting for them to get in range seemed as if it took forever. Annie’s heart quickened with each passing moment, filling her with anxiety where there’d usually be adrenaline. The seconds ticked by excruciatingly slow, yet so incredibly fast. She could feel the tidal wave of chaos building and building, waiting to crash down into the gully at any second. 

Hosea and he gave the first signal to Benson’s men, waving his white handkerchief. Within a few seconds, there was a massive explosion on the ridge behind him. The fire was quick to start, illuminating their silhouettes against the night sky with a haunting orange glow. Annie heard voices, Benson’s men, calling for “help”. The caravan stopped in its tracks and all but one rider took off immediately. She was almost shocked that it worked.

Hosea waved the rag in the air once more. Show time. 

Annie sucked in a breath. “You’re up, boys. Get goin’.”

Micah, Sean, and Charles raced down the hill to meet the rest of their Van der Linde counterparts and Annie whipped out her sniper rifle. She’d removed the scope since it would just limit her visibility in the darkness of the new moon - It’s a trick she learned while hunting at night, even though it was far more difficult to hit a shot without the proper sights for most everyone. But she wasn’t most everyone.

The fire in the background illuminated the scene ever so slightly as the horizon glowed like an inferno. She scanned the terrain, alternating between her binoculars and bare eyes, looking for any sign of movement. They were clear for now, so long as they worked fast. 

She kept on looking up and down the road and back at the gang. At the hills. Towards the horizon. Nothing. It seemed too good to be true. Surely someone would have heard the blast and would come to investigate. How much time had passed? It felt like it’d been an eternity.

The sound of snapping twigs behind her nearly made her jump out of her own skin. She whipped around, frantically shoving the bolt action of the rifle into place and bringing her grip up to aim.

“Who’s there?” she demanded a bit too loudly.

“Don’t shoot,” a familiar voice said softly. 

“What the hell?” Madelyn. 

The girl stepped into view from behind a tree. Her hands were raised in surrender and her fingers were trembling in fear. Even though Annie could barely see her face, it was certain that she was terrified out of her mind. 

“Give me one goddamn reason I shouldn’t shoot you right here,” Annie threatened in a low voice.

“They’re comin’. The O’Driscolls, t-they know about the job.”

“What?”

“They… took me… and I-I was-. They’re comin’. You gotta get outta here. They wanna kill the lot of ya.”

“Why should I listen to you?”

She seemed exasperated and desperate as she spoke.“Why the hell else would I come up to you like this? I ain’t got no gun. I’m just tryin’a help.”

Annie thought for a split second. She was right, but nevertheless. this could be a ploy. Though, then there’d be no way Colm would ever pass up an opportunity for 10,000 dollars to risk sending someone to warn them as a distraction.

Annie made a split second decision, one that likely saved the lives of everyone in the Van Der Linde gang that night. She barely noticed Madelyn flinch as she swiftly traded her rifle for her revolver. She turned her aim to the sky and fired three times. She turned toward the road to make sure the boys were preparing to make their escape.

When a few moments passed, her stomach started to churn. No one was leaving. She heard someone shout but couldn’t make out who or what they said. She looked up to where Hosea should have been, but he was sprinting down the hill on horseback. She jumped into action, leaving Madelyn in the dust.

“What the hell is going on?” She heard Hosea yell as she rode up. “You heard the signal! We need to move!”

“We’re almost… finished,” Dutch panted as he slung the first saddlebag full of cash onto his shoulder. 

“What is it, Annie?” Charles asked uneasily. “Why’d you sound it off?”

“It’s Colm,” she breathed. She could hear her own heart pounding in her ears. “He’s here.”

“Goddamnit!” Arthur cursed, kicking the wheel of a wagon. “That English bastard set us up.” “You seen ‘em yourself?” Micah said.

“That girl from the saloon found us and warned me. We gotta get outta here, now.”

“Annie, you can’t be serious,” Dutch said.

“Dutch, we don’t have time for this,” Annie said. “Why would she risk tellin’ me if it weren’t honest?”

“We stick to the plan,” Hosea declared, before Dutch could protest. “Split up everyone, and meet back at camp. C’mon!” He kicked his horse to a sprint. Lenny immediately followed, while Charles, Davey, and Mac swung up on their horses and chased after them. Javier hesitated, looking between them and Dutch, but eventually decided to take off.

“Damn it! We were so close,” Dutch said. He went to swing the saddlebag over his horse’s back, but a shot suddenly rang out through the pass. The bag exploded next to Dutch’s head, sending cash and coins flying in every direction. The Count reared, neighing loudly. Nero, as steady as he usually was, had also been spooked and started to pace. Annie tried to calm him as she turned and saw a horde indistinguishable silhouettes swarming the road from the west. 

“Go, get outta here! Now!” Annie cried.

The remaining members of the gang jumped onto their horse’s back and took off in the opposite direction. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Boadicea carried Arthur down the dark road. Everyone was in the clear. Wait… Not everyone. 

Annie raced back up the hill. She didn’t know what came over her, but she knew she had to help Madelyn. If the O’Driscoll boys found her after she helped them, they’d most definitely kill her. Or worse.

She halted next to Madelyn and reached down with a steady hand. “Get on.”

“What? Why are you helping me?”

“Christ sake, get on the horse or get killed, I don’t rightly care.”

Madelyn nodded and hastily hoisted herself into the saddle behind Annie. She kicked Nero to a gallop and they started to make their retreat.

A shot rang out.

Annie cried out in pain and involuntarily kicked Nero’s side, making him skid into a sharp left turn. She toppled off his back and hit the ground with a thud, rolling clumsily to a stop, face down in the dirt. An indescribable pain overtook her body and her worst fear had been realized.

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m hit!”

Madelyn yelped and struggled to stay stop Nero’s back, but she gripped the reins so he would stop pacing nervously. “Shit! Are you okay?”

Annie ignored her and struggled to her feet, clutching her side where the bullet had torn apart her flesh - in through her back and out the other side. Warm blood was quickly soaking the inside of her shirt and started to pool where it was tucked into her pants. This ain’t good. This ain’t good, at all. She poked a finger through the hole in her jacket and groaned.

“Damn it, this is my favorite one,” she muttered. Her vision narrowed and everything suddenly seemed slower as the adrenaline started to kick in. 

“What do we do?” 

“You know how to ride a horse?”

“Y-yes.”

“Help me up, then.”

Maddie shifted her position into the saddle and held out a hand for Annie. She sucked in a breath and lifted herself onto her horse’s back, grunting as she held back a scream of agony. Her abdominal muscles were shredded just below her rib cage and she silently prayed that nothing important was harmed.

“Jesus Christ,” she growled through gritted teeth. They were chattering with the tension in the rest of her body, her mind getting blurrier with each wave of adrenaline being pumped through her veins. “Go that way ‘till you hit the river. Don’t stop.”

Doing as she was told, Madelyn urged Nero to a sprint and Annie clutched her side, trying to keep the bleeding to a minimum and to keep her balance on horseback without stirrups. 

She took a breath and clenched her jaw. In a flash of urgency, she turned behind her and fired in the direction of the pursuing O’Driscolls, managing to tag one on the shoulder and knock him off balance. Aiming as steadily as she could, she fired again and brought him to the ground. She snapped her sights on the next target like she was aiming down a long tunnel. All she could hear was the sound of her own gun as it went off in her hand again and again. 

BANG. BANG. Click. Reload.

Frantically, she grabbed six rounds from her belt and shoved them into the cylinder as fast as her fingers could manage. The pain - or maybe the blood loss - was blinding. Her vision was fading, slowly… and then quickly, in and out. One more shot. One more. 

One more… Another rider toppled off their horse as she found her mark.

“Keep goin’,” she grunted as Nero started to slow his pace. They’d been running for a while and he wasn’t used to carrying two passengers. 

C’mon boy. You can do it. She started to fire blindly to cover their backs, again and again. Her hands were shaky and slick with blood. Fumbling a bit more with her gun, gasping and grunting through gritted teeth, a few rounds slipped from her fingers as she reloaded. Focus. Focus, focus, focus… Feeling more and more unsteady, she gripped the saddle and tried to regain balance. 

“You alright back there? Annie?”

She shook herself to consciousness. “They still chasin’ us?”

“No, they’re gone. I think you scared ‘em off.”

Annie tried opening her eyes, but she couldn’t even lift her forehead off Madelyn’s shoulder. “Keep… goin’.”

Each stride her horse took was a dull stab of agony. The constant movement was ripping apart each attempt her body was making to stop the bleeding. She didn’t even realized she’d fallen until she slammed into the ground like a sack of grain. It was a haze. The stars in the night sky swirled around her as if she was at the bottom of a tornado, looking up into the spiraling whirlwind of chaos.

“Annie! Shit!”

“Bedroll…”

“What-.”

“Bedroll. Get it… and a shirt… in the saddlebag.”

Madelyn did as she was told and retrieved the bedroll and extra shirt. She and spread the roll out and tried to help her move on top of it, but she swatted her hands away. Grunting, Annie took out her hunting knife and managed to cut out a long strip of the padded canvas, slicing it in half, working with her eyes half open and her whole world spinning.

“I can do this,” Madelyn said, trying to take the knife from her.

“No just-,” Annie groaned. “Help me patch it up.”

The blood on her black shirt made it look like an oil slick, as if she was an automobile leaking fuel. Maddie lifted it and there was a flood of red. It stuck to her fingers like tree sap, thickening every time she touched the fresher blood that oozed from the wound. She carefully placed the canvas padding on the dime sized opening in Annie’s abdomen. It was a scary thing that something so small could cause so much trouble.

“I’m going to roll over,” Annie mumbled, “and you need to get the other one on my back.”

Madelyn nodded and gulped, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She inhaled sharply and heaved herself off the ground, crying out as her weight shifted. Maddie helped her shed her jacket and pressed the second square into place, holding them together as if Annie would crumble into pieces if she let go.

“The shirt…” She tried to speak, but Madelyn was already tying the patches in place with by the sleeves. Annie had lost so much blood already, that she was starting to see in distorted colors. Red. So much red. It consumed everything, as if the earth had been swallowed by it. She knew she didn’t have long.

“Go on, get out of here,” Annie breathed. “I can’t…”

“No, no, no, we didn’t spend all that time patchin’ you up just for you to give up.”

“You can’t... lift me.”

“You’re gonna have to help me, then. C’mon.” She put Annie’s arm over her shoulders and snaked her own around her waist, careful to not put pressure on the patches. “One, two, three!”

Annie cried out as she stood, unable to form a coherent, thought let alone see anything beyond a few inches in front of her own face. Another round of adrenaline must have kicked in and she somehow made it onto the saddle, grasping onto the horn for dear life. Madelyn mounted behind her and put her arms around Annie, holding the reins out in front in case she fell again. She put her feet in the stirrups and peered over Annie’s shoulder, getting a clear view of the path ahead.

“Stay awake now, ya hear?”

Annie struggled against entering into a state of delirium. Trying to ground herself in reality, she realized something was missing… My hat! She groaned and let her head fall back against Madelyn’s shoulder. Madelyn… How kind…

“Annie! C’mon, stay with me.”

Annie ignored her panicked voice and said the only thing that came to mind. “Your name ain’t really ‘Madelyn’, is it?”

“No. It ain’t”

“What is it… then?”

“Jenny. Jenny Kirk.”

***

Arthur tapped his foot in anticipation as Dutch paced between the fire and the camp entrance. After everyone had split up, all but Charles, Javier, and Annie had made it back safe. It was risky returning to camp this early after a job gone bad, but they hadn’t been followed. Arthur figured that must have been what was holding up the rest of them.  

“Damn it, Dutch, we had a plan,” Hosea said as he massaged his temple. “Why’d you pull that shit back there?”

“Pull what exactly, Hosea?” Dutch said, whipping around to face him. Arthur had been listening to them go at it since they returned. “You need to calm down, my friend. Everyone here is capable of handling themselves.”

“Dutch, he’s right,” Arthur interjected. “We knew Benson wasn’t trustworthy. It ain’t a matter of how well we can handle ourselves, cause that wasn’t no gunfight. It was a setup, plain as day.”

Dutch shook his head. “We needed that money, boys. If you’re not prepared to take a little risk for that, then I don’t know what to tell you!” 

“It already was a risk!” Hosea said, exasperated. “That’s why we needed to stick to the plan.”

Dutch threw his arms up in defeat. “Well, it failed anyways, so why are we still arguin’ about this?”

The rest of the camp had gathered outside their tents to see what all the commotion was about. “What happened, Arthur?” Mary-Beth asked, pulling his attention away from the two men arguing. 

“Just a job gone bad.”

“So no money?” Karen asked. 

“Only a bit. Not nearly as much as we were countin’ on.”

Tilly joined them. “Have y’all seen Charles yet? Or Javier and Annie?”

Arthur looked through the trees and caught a glimpse of the empty road. “Not yet.”

“I hope they’re alright,” Mary-Beth said.

“I’m sure everything’s fine, Mary-Beth,” Tilly assured her, but her voice wavered enough for Arthur to tell she wasn’t entirely sure of her own words. 

Just ask she said it, two riders appeared on the road and made their way through the trees. Charles and Javier. 

“Boys!” Dutch called. “Good to see you back.”

“Sorry we’re the last ones to the party,” Javier said. 

There was a pause and the air grew tense. 

“You mean Annie ain’t with you two?” Karen said.

“No,” Charles said. “She’s not back yet?”

“We ain’t seen her, but I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Dutch said.

“That’s it, I’m goin’ after her,” Arthur stated, starting for his horse.

“Are you jokin’?” Dutch said, raising an eyebrow and stopping Arthur in his tracks. “O’Driscolls and lawmen are crawling all over these parts.”

“She’d do it for one of us,” Charles said. He nodded at Arthur. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, no, I need you both here,” Dutch said. 

“He’s right, boys,” Hosea said. Arthur glared at him. “We can’t risk any other wild adventures tonight. She’s capable, she’ll make it back in one piece.”

Arthur let out a sharp exhale and eyed the two of them, unable to think through his own rage. Annie was capable, sure, but this didn’t feel right. Dutch had screwed her, screwed them all. He told them to keep on with the robbery when she gave the signal. If they’d just listened to her signal...

The energy of the camp rippled, voices murmuring around Arthur, wondering where Annie had gone. The atmosphere was growing thicker with tension and the anxiety welling in his chest made it so he could hardly breath. He couldn’t take it anymore. Just as he turned away to get some air, he saw something down the hill, across the river. A single black horse with two riders. Holy shit…

“Hello?” a small, female voice called out, just barely over the sound of the rapids upstream. 

“Who’s that?” Dutch bellowed as Charles drew his rifle to his shoulder.

“It’s Nero…” Hosea said, his voice flooded with concern.

Arthur ran over to the ridge to get a clearer look. The black stallion was breathing heavily, glistening in sweat as he bowed his head in exhaustion. 

“M-my name’s Jenny. Annie’s here with me, but she’s hurt real bad.”

“No, Arthur, wait!” Dutch said, trying to grab Arthur’s shoulder as he rushed forward. He shook the hand off and took off down the hill to the riverbank. 

“Can you get him across?” he said, trying his best to hide the dread in his voice as he saw the limp body, slumped against the stranger’s chest.

Nero didn’t hesitate as he crossed the water, even though it was somewhat deep. The horse plowed through the flowing water and onto shore, almost as smoothly as if he was on land.

Annie was unconscious and the blood on her shirt glistened in the dim light of the distant campfire. Her face was white as a sheet and covered in a cold sweat. “Charles! Could use your help here!” 

He heard Hosea call Grimshaw for assistance as John and Charles came rushing down the hill. They took in the sight of the wounded woman, speechless. 

“Arthur?” Annie murmured, reaching out her hand to touch what she didn’t think could be real. “That you?”

“It’s me, alright.” He took her bloody fingers in his hand and squeezed. 

“Damn it, I’ve died and gone to hell,” Annie said, a hint of a mischievous smirk on her face. 

He smiled and shook his head. “No, not quite yet, Annie girl.” 

Even though she was dressed in black, the slick stain of blood covered most of the right side of her body, from her ribcage to her thighs. Streaks of red matted stray hairs against her forehead, mixed with the tear marks on her cheeks and the sweat on her neck. He wanted to say he’d seen worse, and he probably had. But this, for some reason, shook him to the core. 

He lifted her off the back of the horse and cradled her in his arms. She wasn’t light and his front was now soaked in blood, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Charles, hitch her horse at the posts, make sure he’s watered.”

“What about her?” John asked, gesturing to Jenny who was covered in blood herself.

“You, Miss Jenny, are with us now,” Dutch said, walking down to join them on the riverbank. “Go wash up, Miss Jones here will help you. You can have Annie’s spot until we find you a place.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jenny said with a breath of relief.

“‘Sir’ was my father,” he said. “You can call me Dutch.”

Arthur brought Annie up the hill as most of the camp watched. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, but at least she was alive. He gently laid her down on his own cot, making sure she was comfortable. She winced and her eyes fluttered open slightly.

“Step back, Arthur,” Grimshaw said, pushing her way into the small area, fresh bandages in hand. She replaced the bedroll patches slowly but securely, cleaning the wounds with what Arthur figured was gin as she worked.

“Ahh!” Annie yelped as the alcohol splashed into the open wound. “Huh. Nice to see you, Susan.”

“You too Annie, you lucky, lucky girl,” Grimshaw said. “Can I use your jacket, Mister Morgan? And will you give us some privacy?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” He said, shedding his coat and handing it over and turning away as Grimshaw carefully removed Annie’s tattered and stained shirt. She covered her so that only she could see as she wiped away the blood from the wounds with a wet cloth.

“Tilly, can you get one of Miss Bolton’s shirts from her things, preferably a light one?”

“Is she gonna be okay, Miss Grimshaw?” Mary-Beth asked with a look of horror on her face.

“Yes, Mary-Beth, she’s gonna be just fine.”

He saw her nod and bring a hand to her mouth, holding back a sob. The rest of camp was watching, but keeping their distance. He saw John say something to Abigail as she tried to walk over to help. She protested for a moment, but he pulled her into a small hug and shuffled her and Jack back into their tent. The suspense had settled since she was back and more or less in one piece, but Arthur’s own fists were clenched with anxiety. 

“Arthur,” Dutch called, snapping his attention away from the scene. He and Hosea were standing back, trying to keep everyone from crowding around the lean-to. 

Arthur sighed with frustration and walked over. “What is it, Dutch?”

“You alright, son?” Hosea asked. 

“Yep.”

“Arthur…” Dutch said, studying him.

“I’m good.”

“She’s gonna pull through.”

“Yeah, I know.” The shakiness of his voice was hard to disguise. “She knew it was a damn trap, too.”

Hosea furrowed his eyebrows, giving him concerned look he hadn’t gotten in a while. “We can get you a bedroll. You can sleep in the-.”

“I’m good,” he said, cutting him off. “I got the chair.”

“Arthur-,” Dutch started.

“I know what my goddamn name is, Dutch, quit sayin’ it,” he snapped.

Dutch sighed and raised an eyebrow. “I was just gonna tell you to keep an eye on her for the night. That’s all. Make sure you get some rest.”

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair, lifting his hat slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Dutch squeezed his shoulder and sent him back to Annie’s bedside. Grimshaw finished with the buttons on the fresh shirt and stepped back.

“I can keep an eye on her, Miss Grimshaw.”

“Thank you, Arthur. When you can, try to get her on her side, she won’t listen to me. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course,” he said. He suddenly recognized the white button up Annie now had on. “Hey, is that my shirt?”

“Yes,” Tilly said as she balled up a few bloodied rags to be washed. “I couldn’t find any clean light ones of hers, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and forced a small smile. “No, Tilly, it’s fine. Thanks. Get some sleep, I’ll take it from here.”

Tilly nodded and took her leave. Arthur turned back to Annie, hesitantly. Her eyes were closed but she had a slight grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. He reached down to the end of the bed and pulled the thin wool blanket up to her shoulders.

“They put me in your shirt?” she mumbled, eyes still closed. “You’ll have to burn it now, surely.”

“Do you ever stop jokin’?”

“Only when there’s nothin’ to joke about.”

Arthur chuckled. When this had happened before, she almost didn’t make it. It was terrifying to watch her fight against seemingly unbeatable odds. But nevertheless, she fought hard and won. He feared she wouldn’t be so lucky this time around. He felt a sudden urge to take her hand. Like his, it was calloused and rough, but smaller and somehow more delicate. He held it gently and she absentmindedly squeezed one of his fingers. 

She met his gaze and for a moment, Arthur saw the same sadness reflected in her cloudy, hazel eyes that had always been in his own. In a strange way, it was comforting to him. To know that he was just as afraid as she was, to know that the path ahead of her could prove to be treacherous. It meant she still was still breathing, her heart still pumping. It meant she had a chance. In that moment, somehow, they both knew everything would be okay. 

“Get some rest,” he whispered.