Arthur pulled himself up the narrow incline of the steep cliffside. The drop below was perilous but according to the map, ahead of him was gold. He struggled to maintain his footing when a rough cough caused a dizzy spell and for a moment he feared he would teeter over the edge. Eventually, his breathing calmed and he crouched down to reach into a crack on the underside of the cliff.
His fingers brushed dirt and stone, gliding blindly across the surface until he bumped into cold smooth metal. He pulled the object out to find a gold bar. Worth about 500, going by the size and weight. He checked the crevices for more bars but only found the one.
As he made his way back to his horse he scowled at the small treasure. 500 was nothing in the long run. He needed something bigger. An amount that would stabilize the gang for a long time. He only knew of one place to get that kind of money and only one person he could trust to help him get it. He nudged his horse forward and galloped away from the setting sun.
"How long have you know?" Lenny asked watching the flames of the campfire leap up into the night sky. A sharp crackle of wood sent sparks climbing up into the air like they could disappear into the heavens and become stars.
"I overheard Arthur talking about it just before he left camp. Before he was gone for almost a month."
"Any chance you misheard him?"
Charles shook his head and added another log to the fire. "I've been traveling around looking for cures ever since. Treatments facilities, that kind of thing. In all my searching the most promising is going to be in Saint-Denis but only for a few days." Charles sighed, doubt seeming to cloud his thoughts.
"And?" Lenny encouraged.
"And, it's a German scientist named Robert Koch. He's doing a demonstration in the city to prove he's cured TB."
"A lot of people have made claims like that. Charlatans every one of them. And the treatments turned out to be more deadly than the disease. What makes this guy so special?"
"Well for one, his research helped cure polio and anthrax. He, well he claims he's cured TB."
"He sounds promising," Lenny said tentatively "But judging by your reluctance and lack of excitement, I'm guessing there's more you aren't telling me."
Finally Charles looked over to Lenny. His dark features lit in the warm glow and a spark of fire caught in his eyes. Lenny realized that despite how quiet Charles was, in truth, he was livid. "He's the best chance we have and he was chased out of Europe for saying he had a cure for TB, when he didn't. If the man is a fraud, then Arthurs fate won't change. If he isn't, then we can cure him."
Lenny swallowed dropping his gaze.
"And if he is a fraud." Charles continued. His low voice filled with righteous vitriol "Then he's the worst kind of man. He's thrived off the desperation of the sick and suffering. Gained fame and fortune from their pain. Exploited their loved ones and given false hope with his lies."
His words hung in the air, heavy and forlorn. Lenny said nothing, just silently contemplated the likelihood that a cure simply didn't exist. That they were chasing unicorns. That Arthur really was going to die.
"Alright, what's the plan?" He said after a moment.
"Well, I doubt we can afford the cure, fake or not. But he's coming to Saint-Denis to do a demonstration. I say we do exactly what Hosea had suggested months ago."
"What's that?"
"We kidnap the doctor. If he admits he doesn't have a cure, then we do the world a favor and we kill him. If he does, then we bring him back to camp, cure Arthur and the doctor will have the benefit of a happy customer before we let him go."
"Mister Morgan. How lovely to see you again."
The blond sheepishly averted his gaze. Sister Caldéron was rather fond of the gruff cowboy. He had a tough air about him. Something wild and hard, yet the smallest genuine compliment would disarm him quite effectively. Like a wolf enjoying a scratch behind the ears.
"Do you, um. Have a moment? I kinda have a favor to ask. If you'd be willing that is."
"Of course Mister Morgan." She said and ushered him to a nearby wooden bench. The air was brisk despite the hot day. It's soothing breath refreshing to the soul and despite Arthurs sudden cough, it seemed to be good for him.
They sat for a moment. Arthur twiddled his thumbs as he searched for the right words.
"Take your time Mister Morgan."
He smiled wearily. "Time," he whispered solemnly. "Time is not something I have much of anymore, Sister." She studied him as he leaned back and winced. Hand coming up to rub at his chest.
He looked up at her. His eyes, bloodshot and drooping. "I'm dying."
"Are you sure?"
Arthur nodded.
"Oh, Mister Morgan. I'm very sorry to hear that."
"Don't be, I deserve it." he smiled as she tisked in disapproval. "I mean it, sister. I'm not a good man. Never have been." he trailed off briefly before looking back to her. "but I've got people I need to look out for. They need money and as I said, I'm a dying man. And I'm not a good man. Got quite the bounty actually."
"What are you asking Mister Morgan?"
"My bounty is for 5,000. I want you to bring me in and collect it." His blue eyes bore into hers. "You're the only one I trust to send the money to the people who need it. All I have is this gold bar to repay you but-."
"Mister Morgan..." She floundered in her surprise. "Your past actions do not mean you should throw your life away."
"I'm not throwing anything away. I'm giving others the chance at a better life. A chance to live."
"are you sure?"
"Yes."