"There you are, boy." Nancy gently patted Dancer's neck, enjoying the soft fur beneath her fingertips. His jet-black coat shimmered in the morning sun. She reached into her satchel and offered him a carrot. "Don't tell Mr. Pearson, but I snatched that one from the cooking tent."

Dancer munched the carrot, pawing at the grass. He huffed and pressed his nose against her hand. Nancy sighed.

"I know, you're bored. Tell you what," She leaned in closer and whispered, "Me too."

She cast a glance around towards her own tent just a few steps away from the horses. It's been three weeks since she first came into the camp and by now she had a feeling for the daily routine among the gang. Her relationship with Tilly had grown a lot, they spent a lot of time together. No matter if taking a walk along the shore, have a drink by the fire in the evening or just play some Domino. Nancy hadn't played this game before and was eager to learn it with Tilly's help. She's gotten better from day to day.

Nancy looked back at Dancer. "Wait here, boy."

She wandered over to her tent and prepared the saddle that was leaning against her cot. She rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, then lifted the saddle. She staggered over to her horse again and began saddling him up.

Some of the men, including Arthur, John, Charles and Sean, had headed out earlier this morning. Nancy wasn't sure what they were up to but considering the number of weapons they had taken with them she suspected they were up to no good. She knew these men were outlaws, and they would kill if necessary. Just like she would. Just like she did. Arthur had told her he had killed men before. All of them far from innocent. She shrugged out of her thoughts when she heard Tilly calling for her. She turned and smiled at her friend.

"You aren't leaving, are you?"

"No, I just feel much better and Dancer needs to burn off some energy. Besides, if I stay in camp the entire time I might go crazy." She said and mounted her horse. She looked down at Tilly. "Care to join me?"

"I would like to, but I already promised Miss Grimshaw to help with some stuff. But next time for sure. Just, be careful out there, okay?"

Nancy nodded. Before she could turn Dancer around, Tilly spoke up again. "Wait, one more thing. Can't let you go like that." She hurried away and returned after a moment with a sawed-off shotgun, a belt holster and some ammo. "Just in case."

"Oh Tilly," She put the holster around her waist, then took the weapon and ammo. "I doubt I'll need it, but thanks anyway." She pushed the gun into the holster and winked at her. "See you later." She saluted her and spurred Dancer lightly. The stallion whickered and trotted away from the camp and along the forest path until they reached the main road. The sun was shining brightly on this day, yet a soft breeze played with her hair. Nancy inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a loud sigh.

"Alright, show me what you got. HA!" She spurred Dancer into a sprint, the horse grunting, the drumbeat of his hooves vibrating in her chest as they raced across the grassy plains. She slowed him down a bit as they neared a crossroad, stopping completely as a stagecoach drove by heading towards Valentine for sure as she read the sign on the fingerpost. She looked after the coach, then turned her head towards the east. She longed to return home. Even just for the sake of getting some of her belongings. Yet, she wasn't sure going alone would be such a good idea. Besides, she told Tilly she'd be back later. Riding to the farm would take many hours. She wouldn't be back in camp before the next day. No, she couldn't do that. Returning was too risky anyway. Who knew who might still be looking for her in the area. Those three guys she escaped from surely had returned to whoever hired them. That person knew she was still out there.

She looked back towards the road that would lead to Valentine. Should she go there? She had some money in her pocket. She could buy some goods for the camp. Dutch had told her there's no need for her to provide anything; that she had gone through a lot lately. That he was giving her shelter and protection in his camp. Yet, she felt bad not giving any money or providing any food or other goods. She wanted to show the gang that she appreciated their help. She turned Dancer and spurred him again, heading towards Valentine.

The main road of Valentine was still a bit muddy from the rain the previous night. Faint billows of smoke rose from ground as the sun warmed it. Dancer trotted slowly along the road. It was already quite busy in town. Nancy stopped in front of the general goods store and tied Dancer at the pole in front of it.

No one seemed to pay much attention to her. Sure, why would they? It wasn't as if people in this town ever remembered what she looked like. The last time she was in Valentine was back when she had been 16. Soon after her mother had succumbed to an inflammation of the lungs. That was seven years ago now. She had clearly changed in that time. Her hair was just on shoulder length as a teenager. Now it flowed way past her shoulders almost to the middle of her spine.

A tiny bell jingled as she opened the door to the store. The owner looked up from the newspaper he had been reading and straightened.

"Mornin' Miss. How can I help ya?"

She cast a look around the shelves. "Thanks, but I'll get my bearings."

The store owner nodded with a grunt and stuck his nose back into the papers. Meanwhile Nancy pulled out a canvas pouch from her satchel and started filling it with some canned fruits and vegetables. Corn, peaches, cherries, beans. Then she took some ground coffee and whiskey. She wasn't keen on both of those drinks, but she knew coffee was a valuable good in the camp, most of the men liked it. Plus, the whiskey she found happened to be Arthur's favorite. She was sure giving him a bottle of his favorite drink would put a smile on his face. He should smile more often, she thought. She put crackers, canned salmon, meat and a couple bags of sweets into the pouch, then headed to the counter.

The owner wrote down the prices for the items. While he did so she cast a glance at the newspaper. She furrowed her brow lightly as she saw one of the headlines jumping at her like a rabid dog in a dark back alley.

The Grapewine Murder – Assassination or family tragedy?

Her heart skipped a beat. What was that supposed to mean? She longed to read the article but was pulled out of her thoughts as the store owner pushed the bill towards her with the total amount for the goods. Her fingers felt clammy all of a sudden while she fumbled with the money in her purse. She handed the coins to the man, then packed the goods back into her pouch. Without saying goodbye she hurried out of the store and took Dancer by the reigns, leading him down the road towards the newspaper stand. She had to know what the authorities were thinking what happened at her home. Why would the paper call it a possible family tragedy?

She paid the paperboy and took one of the papers, then sat down on a crate nearby. She flipped through until she found the article. Her eyes drifted slowly over the article, reading it with a cold claw squeezing her heart with each word she read. That couldn't be right. Why would they think…?

Nancy looked up and tossed the paper aside with a frustrated groan. "Come, boy." She led Dancer back to the road. She ran some more errands, buying fresh meat at the butcher, gathered some medicine at the apothecary. Until finally she reached the post office. Normally, her father had went to Valentine once a week to gather possible letters and other mail. Given the recent events she couldn't just walk up to the post officer and ask for mail for her father. That would only lead her into trouble.

What happened at the Grapevine farm? Why did Russel Cohen had to die? There is just one person who could give answers to these questions. Nancy Cohen, the daughter of the late business man, has gone missing. Did something happen to her? Or isn't she as innocent as one might believe? You see, many questions still need answers. If you want to help solve the horrible crime report any sightings of the Cohen girl to the authorities.

The words of that news article still haunted her mind. How could anyone think she could have had anything to do with her father's death? Would, whoever did it, really go as far as blaming her for murdering her own father? That was when she spotted it. Hanging at a pole near the post office. A poster with the iconic words WANTED printed on top. She quickly stepped towards it, staring at a picture of her. A quite recent one as well. How was that possible? She cast a glance up and down the road but thanks to the post office being a bit outside of town not many people were around at this time of the day. She ripped the poster off the pole and stuffed it into her satchel. She knew whoever was behind her father's death was trying to pin it onto her. Those men who had ransacked the house must have taken the picture from her room. This was the plan all along. Getting rid of her father for whatever reason, then make it look like she was the culprit. And with the second corpse it surely did look a lot like it. The news article said almost the same.

Alongside the dead body of Mr Cohen the officials found another dead body in the kitchen. The poor man was killed in cold blood with a stab wound in his neck. What did make Nancy Cohen snap?

She narrowed her eyes, then mounted Dancer. She couldn't stay in town any longer. She had no idea how many wanted posters had been hung up, and she had no intention to find it out. If they found out it was her the poster was depicting the sheriff would put her in jail until she was proven innocent. And by God, she couldn't prove it at all.

It was late at night as Arthur rode back to camp after he robbed a train with the help of John, Charles and Sean. He hadn't been so sure they could pull it off just the four of them, but they did indeed. He had taken a sack of valuables while the others took the rest. They had split up to cause a diversion, not making it too easy for anyone to catch up on them.

The moon was shining down, lightning the path ahead. Bounty, his mare, slowly galloped along the main road. It was still a rather long ride. He wouldn't reach the camp before an hour. He felt weary, his eyes drifted shut for a few seconds. With a groan he slowed Bounty to a halt beneath a big tree a few miles off the road. He just needed a quick nap.

Once he had tied his horse securely to the tree and stuffed the valuable into a secret pocket in his leather coat he sat down, leaning against the trunk of the tree. He pulled his hat down a bit over his face and closed his eyes. It didn't take long until he dozed off. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when he woke again, the feeling of cold iron pressing against his neck lightly. He couldn't see with his hat still covering his eyes, but he knew he was in trouble.

"What's this? A cowboy caught off his guard?"

It took him a second to realize who that playful voice belonged to until he relaxed, pulling his hat back up. He chuckled lightly as he saw it indeed was Nancy. She laughed softly and pulled the shotgun away from his neck, lifting it to her mouth and blew imaginary smoke from the barrel.

"Gotcha good there, didn't I?" she grinned and put the gun into her holster.

"You're lucky I'm not a shoot first, ask questions later kinda guy." He said amused and shifted a little to sit up straight. "Besides, what are you doing out here alone at night?"

She sat down, cross-legged, her hands folded. She looked at him. "I was in Valentine today. Just getting some goods. Food, medicine and so on."

"And you're still out at night because…?"

She shrugged. "I needed time for myself. To think things through. Oh!" She pulled a pouch over and reached inside. "I got this for you."

He tilted his head, blinking surprised as she revealed a bottle of his favorite whiskey. "Nancy, you didn't have to. That was expensive for sure."

"You seem to forget I'm not a girl from the streets." She said amused and pushed the bottle against his chest. He reached up and took it from her. "I can afford things."

He looked down at the bottle, then back at her. "Thanks, Nancy."

"You're welcome. You've done a lot for me. I thought it's time to do something nice for you. And unless you decide to get shot and make me care for you, getting your favorite whiskey is all I could think of doing."

He put the bottle aside and placed his hat down too. "Will you tell me now what happened?"

"What do you mean?" She looked down at her hands.

"Something's bothering you, I can tell."

She sighed and reached into her satchel, pulling out the poster. She handed it to him. Arthur took it and stared down at it wordlessly for a moment. Then he looked back at her.

"Where did you get this?"

"Outside the Valentine post office. Not sure, probably there are some more in town. I didn't pay attention until I found this one. I've read the newspaper, Arthur. They suspect I could have murdered my father." She growled. "Whoever did this to my family will pay, Arthur. I will make sure they do."

A hot tear found its way down along her cheek. She hated that he saw her like this. She brushed the tear away and sniffled a little, looking at him silently. He crumbled the poster and lighted a match, setting it on fire.

"I'll make sure there are no more wanted posters of you in town. I promise. But for now you should forget about it. You know what?" He snatched the bottle from the ground and opened it. "Let's drink to…"

"Justice?"

"Nah," He shook his head. "…to privacy."

She laughed. "That sounds good to me." She took the bottle from him as he offered her the first swig. She took one, coughing from the unaccustomed sharp taste of the drink.

Arthur laughed softly, taking the bottle from her again. "Not used to the fine taste of whiskey, huh?" He winked and took a swig.

"We produced wine, not whiskey, alright?" She pinched his arm and snatched the bottle again, drinking a bit more. The liquid burned in her throat, she scrunched her face a little, exhaling loudly.

"Ha…hu…yeah, that will never be my kind of drink." She giggled.

"More for me then." He took one last swig, then put the half empty bottle aside. He leaned back against the tree, looking up at the night sky. She shifted and dropped down onto her back, her head resting on one of her hands.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She pointed at the starlit sky. Arthur looked at her, then up again. "

You see that line over there?"

He hummed. "I don't see any lines."

She chuckled and reached for him. "Come here." She tugged at his arm and he followed suit, lowering onto his back next to her. "There…" She took his hand and guided it up, making him trace the line of stars she was referring to.

"Oh, yeah, that one." He said. For a second he remained silent. "And…what about it?"

She let go of his hand. "It's called Canis Major."

"Canis who?" he chuckled.

"Canis Major. That's latin."

"I know latin. Hola, muchacha." He turned his head and grinned at her.

Wow, the whiskey clearly showed its effect. She laughed. "That's Spanish. I mean Latin. As in what the Romans speak. Canis Major means Greater Dog. Cause it looks like a dog."

"A stick figure dog maybe."

"Point is," she emphasized, "It looks beautiful."

"Mmmhmmm…that I can agree with."

They lapsed into silence for a while, just lying side by side, looking up at the sky. Just the sound of the crickets singing their song, in the distance a wolf howled. Nancy turned her head towards him, taking in his features.

"Arthur?"

"Mh?" He looked at her.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Distracting me. From everything. It means a lot to me."

He sat up slowly and took his hat from the ground, putting it on again. "I'm glad you think so. We should return to camp now though."

"Right, sure." She got up as well, preparing Dancer. She mounted him as Arthur mounted Bounty. They rode in silence until they reached the camp again. Not many were awake anymore, just a few tents were lit.

"I better bring the goods over to the cooking station." She said and took the pouch and made an attempt to unsaddle her horse when Arthur placed his hand on hers, the leather of his glove felt warm on her skin.

"I'll handle the saddle. You store the goods and go to sleep. It's late."

"Thank you, Arthur." She said, a soft smile on her lips. She turned, but hesitated. "There's something I…I thought about earlier today." She turned towards him again. "Before I rode to Valentine. By the crossroads I had a split moment of…I don't know. I contemplated whether I should ride back home or not."

"Why didn't you?" He shifted from one foot to the other.

"Maybe I was afraid." She shrugged. "Maybe I didn't want to go alone." Her eyes locked with his for a moment. He nodded slowly.

"Sleep it over." He said and started working on the saddle. "If you still consider it in the morning, we'll talk again."

She nodded. "Good night, Arthur."

"Night, Nancy." He looked after her for a moment, then shrugged out of his thoughts and unsaddled Dancer and Bounty. He walked into camp, not feeling tired at all anymore. He spotted John and Hosea by the fire and joined them for a few more hours until they retreated to their beds too. Finally, he crashed on his own cot and fell asleep for the rest of the night.