The ride to Copperhead Landing couldn't have lasted more than a couple hours, but Sadie Adler felt as if she'd been up on her horse forever, steely-eyed and stiff as a board against the rushing wind. Abigail shuddered with sobs for most of the trip, clinging desperately to Sadie's back, but while Sadie longed to calm her, she didn't dare remove her focus from the unfurling road. Now was not the time for useless words of comfort, if they had hopes of making it out alive. Still, Abigail's heartbreak reminded Sadie that she'd been in her shoes not so long ago. A wave of exhaustion staggered her as she considered all that had happened in the months since Colm O'Driscoll ruined her life. Her marriage and the cabin in the mountains seemed like remnants of a fairytale she'd dreamed up as a child, instead of a past she had inhabited.

When Sadie and Abigail reached their destination, Sadie didn't expect to find much that would lift her spirits. Hell, it was hard enough lifting them on a normal day. But when Tilly stepped out from the wreckage of a house, followed by Jack, and Abigail let out a grateful gasp… well, that was enough for anyone to reconsider their cynicism. Abigail was off the horse the instant they came to a stop, rushing across the marshy ground to gather her son into her arms. "My boy! Oh, my precious boy…"

"You made it." Tilly didn't sound relieved, or overjoyed to see Abigail and Sadie, or fearful of the future. She just sounded tired. As are we all. Sadie nodded, forcing back the weariness as she dismounted from her horse. "For now." Although she hadn't seen any lawmen in pursuit on their way to the rendezvous, she wasn't about to drop her guard. Now that Abigail and Jack had been reunited, her next goal was to stay on her feet until their permanent safety was ensured. We ain't spilling any more blood today if we can help it.

"Thank you," Abigail breathed as she drew Tilly into an embrace. "Thank you for keeping my son safe."

"Don't thank me," Tilly responded, though her arms locked forcefully around Abigail. "It was Arthur… He sent me and Jack on our way here. We might not have made it if he hadn't…" She released Abigail, and now Sadie saw the worry rising in her eyes, breaking free from the composure she'd had to project for Jack's sake.

"Did you see him?" she said timidly, as if she wanted to know but feared the answer.

Though the question had been directed towards Abigail, Sadie took it upon herself to answer. "He rode off once we sprung Abigail free. Had some unfinished business at Beaver Hollow." As the words left Sadie's mouth, she felt her hands shake. Tightly, she clenched them together. Damn fool. Running off to save a bunch of folks who ain't worth it… But the frustration fled quickly. The mere thought of Arthur's bloodshot gaze and ragged breaths left an empty feeling in her gut. She didn't want to believe it, but she knew a dead man walking when she saw one.

Tilly took a deep breath, steadying herself to speak. "I've done my part. I guess I'll be heading out."

"No!" Abigail insisted, clutching at Tilly's sleeve. "Don't go back… stay with us…"

"Don't get me wrong. I ain't going back." Again Tilly steadied herself with a breath. "But I'm doing you no good by sticking around here. A smaller group will draw less attention. You get out and go find a place to stay. Start again."

Abigail looked as if she wanted to protest, but reason won out in the end. "Oh, Tilly." They shared another embrace, while Sadie hung back, threading her fingers through her horse's mane. Over the past month, Tilly had treated Sadie with nothing but kindness, and Sadie would be sorry to see her leave. But there was a world of difference between parting with a friendly ally who'd helped her in a time of crisis, and saying goodbye to someone who might as well have been family. Between the loss of John and now the gang's split, it was a wonder Abigail was still holding up. She's a fighter. Like Arthur. Like me…

The first to speak after Tilly had ridden off was Jack, peering inquisitively up at his mother. "Aunt Tilly said that we're moving again."

"She's right," Abigail said, in a voice that was hardly a breath. One hand brushed against Jack's shoulder, as if he'd vanish if she let go for even a second. She looked just as worn out as Tilly had, and as Sadie felt deep inside.

"We've gotta go find shelter. Some place to spend the night, then we'll be on the move in the morning." Abigail turned to Sadie, silently imploring her to make the call. Apparently without Dutch, Arthur, or John around, Sadie came first in command. Under different circumstances, the leadership role might have flattered her, but instead the knowledge of what that position had cost weighed heavy on her mind.

"Okay," Sadie announced. "Our best bet is to stay clear of town. Who knows what kind of storm's been stirred up after that stunt we pulled at Van Horn." Glancing towards Abigail, she felt like adding thanks to you, but she didn't want Jack to ask questions. Besides, Abigail had handled herself admirably. Milton had a date with a bullet one way or another. I'm just glad it was one of us who finished him off.

"We'll go find dry ground and set up camp." Sadie slid her boot into her horse's stirrup and mounted him. "Come on! There's room up here for two more."

"Is Pa going to join us at our camp?" Jack asked as Abigail lifted him up. "And Uncle Arthur, and Uncle Dutch, and everyone?"

Grief shot across Abigail's face. She swallowed, trying to speak, but Sadie beat her to it, trying not to sound too grim. "No, Jack. It's just us now."

Us… A peculiar word, if Sadie stopped to think about it. Once upon a time, us had been her parents, then herself and Jake, and then a ragtag bunch of outlaws with whom the Sadie Adler of before would have never fallen in. Now her life revolved around a fellow widow and her son who was still young enough not to understand the misery that this world had to offer. She could leave them right now, if she were so inclined… but she'd be doing a disservice to the woman who had helped pull her from the tortured mire after her husband's murder. If this was to be her path, Sadie had no choice but to tread it.

Catching dinner provided a decent distraction from the day's hardships, although the land Sadie had staked out had little to offer in the way of big game. Better than nothing, she thought as she returned to the campfire that Abigail had started with several plump rabbits in tow. Conversation was kept to a minimum as they cooked and devoured their meals. Even bright-eyed Jack was subdued, possibly still puzzling over what had happened to the gang. Sadie wondered when Abigail would have the heart to tell him.

"Thank you, Sadie," Abigail finally breathed when she'd left nothing of her meal but bones. "For, uh… for sticking with us. I don't know if…" She sighed and swept a loose strand of hair behind her ear, clearly defeated. Drained. Sadie knew the look well.

"I ain't going anywhere," she said. "Not until I know you're safe."

"We'll be fine." Abigail gazed into Sadie's eyes, seemingly trying to convince herself as much as Sadie. "I can handle myself on my own. I've done it before."

"You weren't a mother then," Sadie reminded Abigail. "And I ain't gonna try to let you be one all alone."

Abigail's eyes widened, and Sadie thought she was about to lash out with her tongue. But then her arm slipped around Jack, clutching him close, and her gaze focused on a spot over Sadie's left shoulder. Craning her neck around, Sadie spotted the figure of a man shambling up to their camp. In an instant, she was on her feet, her revolver drawn and poised at his head. The man halted a foot from the fire, throwing his arms out in surrender.

"One more step and you're…" The words died in Sadie's throat as the campfire threw light on the claw marks scoured across the man's right cheek.

"John Marston," she said, in the same moment that Abigail exclaimed, "You're alive!"

The camp became a flurry of motion as Abigail and Jack rushed to John's side. Abigail threw her arms around John with such wild abandon that he nearly toppled over. John didn't say a word as he rested his chin against Abigail's shoulder, but his softening expression spoke volumes. Jack joined in, attaching himself to his parents' legs, and a twinge went through Sadie. Thank God they'd been reunited, but the sight served as an unfriendly reminder of the life she'd never gotten the chance to lead. The Marston family had each other, and she didn't have anyone. Not the way they did. By now she was used to the pain, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"You- Arthur told me-" Abigail babbled. "You was supposed to be dead-"

"No." John released himself from Abigail's grip and stared upon her as if he would never get the chance again. "Dutch left me. Told everyone I'd met my end, but I showed up at camp right when the Pinkertons did…"

"That bastard," Abigail hissed, but there was no bite to her speech. Again she pulled John close. Sadie cleared her throat.

"So you went back to Beaver Hollow?" A million questions stormed her head- was Arthur there, did he make it out, did the Pinkertons catch anyone, did you retrieve Dutch's stash- but she managed to stave them off. Best not to bombard John right away.

"I did." Resolutely, John managed to step away from Abigail, though he didn't let go of her hand. Now that he was standing alone, Sadie noticed a tightness to his face that hadn't been immediately apparent, his jaw firmly set and his eyes blank and guarded. Her own body tensed automatically. Something happened at Beaver Hollow. John watched someone die. But she couldn't find the appropriate way to ask, and no further details were forthcoming from John. Catching his longing glance toward the sputtering campfire, Sadie mentally relented. He's had a hard day. We've all had a hard day. Just the latest in a never-ending series of hard days, it seemed. Explanations could follow in the morning.

"We can talk about that later," Sadie said. Later, when they'd had a chance to process all that had happened. Later, when Jack was asleep or distracted from the grisly grown-up talk. Later, to cultivate an atmosphere of suspense, even though she knew deep down how the events at Beaver Hollow had played out. Someone had to die, and it sure wasn't John.

Without another word, Abigail gently led her boys to the fireside. Sadie had the feeling that she didn't care to hear any more about how John had escaped, so long as he was free and safe alongside her. She sat down heavily and poked at the fire's glowing embers with a stick. Only the stars appeared to be watching her, but she wasn't going to bet on it.

Sadie needed no acclimation when the sun's rays touched her face the next morning. Throughout those first terrible weeks following her husband's death, she'd deluded herself upon waking into believing that she was right where she should be- at her cabin in the mountains, with Jake's arms around her, ready to begin another day of vigorous work. But the mattress was always cold, and eventually she'd had to swallow the truth. This morning, however, Sadie needed no reminder of where she was and what had brought her to this place. She was on the run with the Marston family, stuck to their side like a lost puppy who didn't know any better. The odd one out. Now that John was back, her role as self-appointed protector seemed pointless.

The smell of smoke tickled Sadie's nose, and she rolled onto her side to discover its source. She wasn't surprised to see it was John who had re-started the campfire, sitting cross-legged with his hat in his lap while Abigail and Jack dozed on. Though his eyes were open, his gaze appeared to have turned inward, plagued by musings too dark to speak aloud. As silently as she could, Sadie shrugged out of her bedroll and got to her feet, brushing off the dust from her clothes. It was time to talk.

"You're not one to get up before dawn," Sadie commented as she slid into place beside John. He shrugged- not the snappy remark she'd expected.

"I could say the same about you."

"Most days, sure. Today, we're lucky to have gotten up at all." She waited for a reaction, but John didn't give her one. He continued to stare aimlessly at the fire, his thumbs running across his hat's worn fabric. It seemed too forward to broach the subject of last night's events so soon, but Sadie had run out of excuses for conversation. Her burning curiosity gripped her and refused to let go.

"So what happened back there?"

John sighed, finally dragging his head up to gaze at the gray clouds above, without glancing Sadie's way. "Is it later already?"

"Why you holding out?" Somewhere in Sadie's heart, she knew that it wasn't fair to expect John to open up to her, not when yesterday's events were so fresh and Abigail lay sleeping mere inches away. But dammit, she had to find out somehow. The fates of the ones she had left behind were murky, and only John was able to clarify them.

Though John didn't seem inclined to snap back at Sadie, her words were the provocation he'd needed. "There's not much to say. The camp was falling apart by the time I got back. Folks at each other's throats. Micah…" He swallowed, and Sadie saw his grip on his hat tighten to a white-knuckled clench. "Micah shot Miss Grimshaw, and Dutch… he just let it happen."

MICAH. A white-hot cinder began to burn in the back of Sadie's throat. Of course. That conniving little rat… She just barely held herself back from cursing him aloud, reluctant to disturb the flow of John's story.

"Arthur was there," John announced. "He was the only one who stayed by my side in that whole mess. We made a break for it… the place was swarming with Pinkertons. Arthur told me where you were, and Abigail and Jack, and…" He broke off, clenching his jaw and staring fixedly at the rising smoke.

"What happened to him?" The question had left Sadie's lips before she was even aware that she wanted to ask it. It occurred to her that she'd been dying to know ever since John had staggered into her sights the night before.

"He…" At first Sadie thought John would retreat from her question, but he tackled it head-on. "He stayed behind, to hold off the Pinkertons." He looked down, picking up his hat and staring at it as if it were a winning poker hand. "Saved my life…"

Sadie followed John's gaze, curious as to what had absorbed his attention. It was just a hat, why should he be so taken with-

Then the realization shook her to the core. The last time she'd seen that hat, it had been on Arthur's head. Look who's a damn fool for not noticing…

The hat belonged to Arthur. Arthur, who had saved John's life. Arthur, who had heeded his better judgment and faced the Pinkertons head-on, because he couldn't let Jack live as an orphan. Arthur, who had likely been shot all to hell by the government agents, if that awful sickness hadn't gotten to him first, all because of fucking Micah…

The anger returned, whipping through Sadie with a force greater than lightning. By now it was a second skin in which she lived, a panacea she relied on day by day to keep her on her feet. Sometimes the rage that filled her inside and out was so strong that it scared her, but until now, she had never been so convinced that it was justified. That goddamn yellow-bellied snake deserves to HURT for this…

"Micah's the one who ratted us out," Sadie said rapidly. "It's his fault the law showed up when they did." It's his fault Arthur's in the ground right now.

"I know," John said matter-of-factly. "Arthur told me."

"Well, shit," Sadie blurted. "Then you know this ain't over. Not 'til Micah's done for."

At last John met Sadie's eyes, a lost, desperate expression crawling up to the surface. "We can't go hunting him down now. The law'd be on us in seconds."

"I know," Sadie said. "I ain't saying now. But if I ever see that son of a bitch again, I don't care who you are, or who you're with. I'm coming for you, so we can put an end to his life." She narrowed her eyes a fraction, hoping to impress the severity of her statement upon John. "I expect you to do the same if it's yourself that finds him."

John's breath tumbled from his lungs in a heated rush. "Is that all you care about anymore? Taking revenge?"

He didn't seem sorry to have said it, and Sadie didn't bother to take offense. If you only knew how many times a day I ask myself that. Sometimes it felt like the respectable part of her, the part that wasn't interested in guns and vengeance, the part that knew how to interact nicely with folks, had gone down in flames the same night as her home. Like some kind of mythical creature, a new Sadie Adler had risen from its ashes. Half the time she didn't recognize the person she had been, and the rest of the time she didn't recognize the person she'd become.

Is that what you're good for? Killing them as you believe deserve it? But Micah did deserve it, dammit. Almost as much as Colm O'Driscoll and his lot had. Surely John understood. He'd been there, standing beside Arthur against a group of madmen.

"If anyone belongs in a shallow grave right now, it's Micah Bell," Sadie hissed.

John pressed his hand to his cheek, tiredly rubbing his eyes. "Any grave at all's too dignified. But… I got a family, Sadie. I've got to do right by them before I can even think about going after Micah."

Though John didn't sound entirely convinced of his responsibility, Sadie tried to let her anger simmer down. He was right, after all. She had nothing to lose, and he had so much to risk.

"Just promise me this," she breathed. "If you find him someday, you won't take him on alone."

Slowly, John nodded, before turning to Sadie and offering his hand.

"And if you find him first… I'd hate for you to keep all the fun to yourself."

Sadie grasped John's hand, and they shook on it, a cold, shared understanding filling the air. In that moment, Sadie was fiercely glad that neither Abigail nor Jack were awake. If Abigail had laid down the law and forbade John to hunt down Micah, Sadie knew that he wouldn't have listened. She didn't want to cause a rift in the family that had already fought tooth and nail to stay together.

"Where you gonna go after this?" Sadie asked, turning her gaze to the fire's wavery heat.

John made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "Not sure. I reckon it'll be safer for us up north. Canada… the Yukon, maybe. Anywhere but… here."

"Here, or Tahiti," Sadie supplied.

Only the slightest twitch of John's lips revealed his amusement. "No, I hear Guarma's the one to avoid." He set Arthur's hat aside and tossed a handful of dry grass into the fire, stirring up the flames. "What about you?"

Sadie was silent as she began to seriously examine her options. Her journey with the Marston family was over, that much was clear. She wouldn't dare return to any of the hideouts where the gang had once frequented. Her family had long since moved on or passed, and she wasn't sure it was worth making the trip to see the ones left. Failing that, she was at a disadvantage- a widowed woman who had no interest in loving another man or giving him children, who'd run with a gang for several months and refused to wash the blood from her hands. Now that she'd fallen so far, why attempt to clamber back up?

Arthur's words vividly swept around Sadie- We're more ghosts than people. Like it or not- and Sadie didn't exactly like it- it was the truth. He'd seen straight through her that day. One foot was trapped in the grave and the other stuck to solid ground, determined to keep her upright despite how easy it would be to lie down. Not much was left for Sadie in the land of the living, but she'd already been through the worst ordeal she could have possibly imagined, had survived horrors that might have killed another person. Since God seemed so determined to keep her around, she might as well stick to it while laughing in His face.

"I dunno. Any place that'll have me." Sadie folded her knees to her chest and spread her arms across them. "And there ain't many of those to find."

John seemed to be on the verge of speaking, and for half a second Sadie wondered if he was going to invite her to stay with him. But he glanced away, clearly thinking the better of it. It wasn't his call to make, Sadie reckoned, and besides, she had already made up her mind not to accept. Her path would be forged alone.

"Well, good luck finding your way." John's voice softened. "Me and Abigail 'll miss ya."

"Aw, y'all don't need me around." As Sadie spoke, she saw Abigail stir by the fire, and slowly sat up straight. It was about time to get going.

"That being said, if anything good came out of this mess, I'm glad to have met your family. They're lucky to have you." She got to her feet, turning her back on John.

"I doubt Abigail would agree," John said, but Sadie could hear in his voice that he was touched. She would have smiled, but the expression didn't sit right on her face.

"Agree with what?" Abigail announced, rising from her bedroll and smoothing her fingers through her hair.

"Nothing," Sadie and John murmured at the same time.

With conflicted feelings, Sadie rode out shortly before she had to hear John repeat his story to Abigail. Faces and names swirled through her head- Arthur, Dutch, Micah, John- and with them, a burden of questions. Where would she go? What would she do? Who would she meet, and when?

Well, the open plains were vast enough for any adventure to take place. She'd run into one soon enough. Somewhere out there was a jagged hole in the world that Sadie fit into, rough edges and all. She only had to discover it.