It was the sixth day after her arrival in the camp when Nancy found the strength to leave the bed. Tilly helped her because she was still limping. She didn't want to risk the pain flaring up again and so she leaned a bit on Tilly. Nancy couldn't quite tell why, but she felt a connection to the young woman. They had sat and talked for many hours during the past few days and they indeed enjoyed each other's company a lot.

"That looks nothing like I imagined." Nancy said while she let Tilly lead her over to the campfire. She felt all eyes on her as she sat down on one of the unoccupied chairs, placing her injured leg onto another one Tilly placed in front of her. She cast a glance around and saw a lot of unfamiliar faces. Until she spotted Arthur by one of the other tents, the biggest in the camp it seemed, talking to a man she vaguely knew from somewhere. Or maybe she just mistook him for someone else. She simply couldn't place him anywhere. She looked away as the man's eyes darted over to her, he nudged Arthur's arm lightly, nodding towards her.

"Are you hungry? I can fetch you some stew and bread." Tilly said.

"Oh, no, I can't ask you to do that. I'll get it myself." She tried to get up but fell back on the chair again. "Or, maybe not." She muttered. She looked at Tilly who raised an eyebrow with an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Okay, stew and bread would be nice."

As Tilly walked over to the cooking station Nancy took the time to take in the faces around her. Everyone had turned their attention back to where it was before she had joined them. She sighed and looked up at the evening sky. A deep purple with streaks of gold painted the sky this evening. A bittersweet sight, she thought. Just a few days ago she had admired it from the front porch of their farm. Or on horseback while giving Dancer a ride to burn off some energy. She had often stopped by the river not too far from the farm, looked across towards the mountains. Sunsets always brought a smile to her face. Not this evening though. It was the first sunset she saw amongst a group of total strangers. Except for those who had taken care of her during the past days, but even those she didn't know that much yet.

"Here you go." Tilly returned with a bowl of hot stew, a piece of bread, some cheese and a cup of water.

"Oh, thanks." Nancy shifted and took the small tray from her, placing it on her lap. She dug into the cheese first. She closed her eyes, munching slowly. "Mmmh, that's a good one." She muttered.

"It's cheese. All taste the same, don't they?"

Nancy opened her eyes again. "Absolutely not. This one here is a Swiss type. European Swiss, I mean. They have a savory, nutty taste." She explained, taking another bite. She saw Tilly tilting her head ever so lightly. "You wonder how I know these things, I suppose?"

She shrugged. "You grew up on a farm. Guess you produced cheese?"

"Oh, no, no, we didn't." She said and sipped some water. She felt a tug in her chest again. Speaking about these things, her father, her home like in the past still hurt. Given, everything had happened so recently she didn't have much time to get used to everything. Yet, she swallowed her feelings and looked back at her.

"We produced wine. Different types actually and each wine has its own flavor just like cheese. You cannot pair up any wine with any cheese. You must make sure both of their components fit together. But I don't wanna bore you with that. Besides, my stew's getting' cold."

"Right, thanks for clearing it up for me though. I'll leave you to it now." Tilly said and walked away to her tent. Meanwhile, Nancy dug into the stew. It was a warm, well-seasoned mix of vegetables and cooked beef. She enjoyed each spoonful til the last drop. She washed it down with the rest of water, then put the tray aside. She felt much better with a belly full of food.

She was aware of a person sitting down next to her. She looked at him expectantly. "Can I help you?"

"Miss Cohen, I'm Dutch van der Linde. I'm running this illustrious gang of outlaws and misfits."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. van der Linde." She said with a polite smile.

"Just Dutch, please. And let me say, I am deeply sorrowed by the tragic news. I knew your father. Not very well, but we've met a few times many, many years ago. Actually, the Count over there," He pointed at the white horse, "came from your farm. I bought him at one year. Beautiful stallion. Your father had an exquisite taste."

Wow, does he ever shut up? She wondered but still smiled lightly. "It means a lot to me to hear that, Dutch. I had a feeling I've seen you before. I just couldn't place you anywhere. Now it makes sense. How old was I when you bought the Count?"

He tilted his head a little. "Three I'd say. Just a little kid."

"Twenty years ago, wow." She muttered. "Father never spoke of you."

"Like I said, we weren't friends or anything. Still, it pains me thinking about what you must've gone through recently."

"Yes, well, thank you again for your kind words." She shifted, slowly getting up. She was a bit wobbly on her feet. Dutch reached for her, but she waved him off. "I hope you understand that I am currently not in the mood to talk about my father or…or what happened."

"Of course, didn't mean to intrude." He stepped away from her. "Just know that revenge will be taken."

She nodded and limped away down to the river. Micah spit into the fire as he walked by past Dutch, muttering more to himself,

"Wow, what a bitch."

"What was that?" Dutch turned towards him.

"Nothing, just talkin' to myself, is all." He said walking off to his tent. Dutch looked after him, thoughtfully, then turned and bumped into Arthur.

"We need to talk."

Dutch tilted his head. "What about, son?"

"I kept thinking about the letter she mentioned. The one signed by LC?"

He placed his hand on Arthur's back, leading him away from the fire over to the big oak tree by the path that led down to the river.

"What about it?" He asked as they stopped under the shade of the tree. Arthur sighed and looked down to the shore where he saw Nancy sitting on a boulder, looking across the water.

He looked back at Dutch. "You said her father was a business man. Quite a successful one."

"Most successful of the area, if I recall correctly."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "So…who with the initials of LC do we know who might have a problem with that?"

Realization dawned in his eyes. "Leviticus Cornwall." He growled. "You think that bastard is behind it?"

"Don't know. Makes most sense to me though." He said and brushed past him, attempting to walk down the path to the river when he felt a light tug at his sleeve. He looked down and saw little Jack Marston looking up at him with his puppy eyes.

"Howdy, Jack." He smiled at the boy.

"Can we go fishing, uncle Arthur?" he asked.

Arthur took off his hat and put it on Jack's head. "Sure, partner. Go get your fishing rod. Oh, and bring mine too."

Jack nodded, smiling brightly as he hurried back to camp, gathering the rods. He hurried back to Arthur and together they walked down to the shore. Arthur helped Jack attach the bait to the hook, then prepared his own too.

"On three?" Arthur said and Jack nodded.

"One." Jack said.

"Two."

"Three!" They both exclaimed and threw their hooks as far as they could. Arthur patted the boy's shoulder.

"Well done. And now we wait."

Nancy looked over curiously, wondering who the boy was. Was he Arthur's son? She shifted a bit, watching them for a moment. She smiled lightly as Arthur turned his head, facing her. He nodded at her, saluting her with two fingers against his temple. He turned back to the boy and talked to him for a second. The boy nodded and Arthur pulled the hook back to land, then walked over to her.

"Good to see you out and about." He said and pointed at the boulder. "Care if I join ya?"

She scooted over a little. "Sure, it's been getting boring all alone."

He sat beside her. "How do you feel?"

"Oh, you know, it's alright. Still stings a bit when I walk but right now it's fine." She looked at the fishing rod in his hand. Then over at the boy still sitting on the ground, staring at the water. "Is he your son?"

"Jack? No, he's John's and Abigail's son. I love him though. Almost as if he's my own. He likes to call me uncle Arthur and to be honest it makes me feel good."

"I'm sure it does. I take it you're an only child too?"

"That obvious?" He said amused and shifted a little, his knee lightly brushing against hers.

Nancy laughed softly. "Yes, you definitely come across as an only child."

Silence lapsed over them for a moment til she pointed at the rod. "Will you keep fishing now?"

"Sure, have you ever fished before?"

"No, I don't have the patience for that, but I like watching if that's alright."

Arthur reached into his satchel, taking a piece of cheese and attached it to the hook. He got up and threw the hook into the water, then took his seat again.

"I don't always have the patience either but there are times where it's quite meditative. Calming me down. Puts my mind to a rest even if just for an hour."

"I used to take Dancer for a ride in the evenings when I needed to calm down. We stopped by the river and watched the sunset. Nothing's as beautiful as the setting sun, right?"

"I agree. Though there's something equally marvelous."

Nancy tilted her head. "Which is?"

"The rising sun." He said with a gentle smile. "Cheesy, am i?"

She laughed and patted his arm gently. "Just a little maybe. But I get what you're saying. It's quite a sight to behold. The soft light, rising above the mountaintops. Bathing the plains in its light, turning fields of grass into a bath of molten gold."

"Quite a poet, huh?" He said suddenly aware that her hand still rested on his arm. He looked down at her hand, then at her. She blinked and pulled it away with a soft blush on her cheeks. Arthur cleared his throat. "It's a nice picture you just described, though."

"Thanks. And yes, I do enjoy reading. Poetry not so much but still. When I was a teenager, I had a phase where all I wanted was to run away from home. Live some adventures. Not the boring day to day life at the farm. I wanted to see foreign lands. Learn about foreign culture. But then, at 16, my mom died, and everything changed. I couldn't just leave my father behind. He needed me. And I needed him. I was stupid thinking there's something more important than family."

"It's not stupid. And, as awful as it might sound to you given the circumstances now, family doesn't necessarily mean by blood. This gang," He pointed into the direction of the camp, "is my family. I don't like all of them. But that's how family works. In the end, no matter the differences you have with each other, if danger comes to you, you'll stand together. Side by side. As a unit."

"I'm glad you found people who make you feel like that. So, what happened to your real family? Your parents?"

Arthur opened his mouth when he was interrupted by a hard tug at the fishing line. "Whoa, something big's on the hook." He jumped up and started pulling. The fish fought bravely, making it difficult for Arthur to pull the hook back to land but after some moment of struggle the fish finally gave up. Jack bounced over to them, his eyes big and shiny as he saw the big fish in Arthur's hand.

"Bravo, Arthur." Nancy chuckled.

"Can we eat it tonight?" Jack asked eagerly.

Arthur looked from Jack to Nancy. They both smiled at him expectantly. He took the fish tightly in his hand and smacked it against the boulder, killing it. Then he handed it to Jack. "Go bring it to Mr. Pearson. Tell him to prepare it for us."

Jack took the fish and hurried up to the camp. Arthur went to fetch the boy's rod. Nancy got up and slowly walked over to him.

"Too bad he didn't catch one himself." She said examining the cheese bait still intact. "Though I suppose it's more important he gets to spend some time with you, huh?"

"Sure. John is a good guy, he loves his son. But sometimes he doesn't know what to do with him."

"And that' where you step in." Nancy said linking her arm to his as support as they walked back to camp as well. "That's very noble of you."

"Oh, no, no, I am not a noble man. Not at all." He protested. "Trust me."

She stepped away from him as they reached the camp again, letting go of him. "I think I do, Arthur Morgan."

He tilted his head. "Do what?"

She walked away, casting a glance over her shoulder. "Trust you."