Author's Note: I must say I'm feeling a bit sorry for Ann in this chapter. ( ͡° ʖ̯ ͡°) And trust me, on occasion she will get a chance to have a look into Arthur's journal.

But first things first.

Chapter XI: Despairing

Ann started up from her sleep due to a sudden thud on the windowpane. Still tired and not knowing what has happened, she looked around the hotel room. Apparently just a bird, she thought while rubbing her eyes.

So it wasn't a dream; Arthur didn't stay with her. Screw that, she had already made enough of a fool of herself last night when she was trying to explain why he wasn't right when he told her that they had different views of life. God, she was so naïve! Heavily sighing, she now realized that she nearly had reached the crossroads where she would have been forced to come to a decision – sticking to the new world and the law or giving a damn about everything, following this goddamn outlaw. Since her sanity wasn't up to scratch last night she knew that she should have been grateful to him for knocking sense into her.

Screw him. I've other things to deal with. Things named Diandro Sánchez, that is. Ann needed to come up with a plan, in case she would cross paths with him any time soon. However, first she needed to get dressed again because she simply had been too lazy for this last night.

She got up, the soreness between her thighs immediately reminding her of how intensively he had fucked her. Hissing, she then bent over to pick up her clothes and realized that she was still wearing his black handkerchief around her neck – probably the only thing she had left of him. "Goddamn fool!"

Half an hour later she was finally on her way downstairs when she noticed that the hotel owner checked on her warily. Really? Still that puking affair? Sighing irritated, she stated: "No worries, Mister. I didn't puke over anything, okay?"

"It's rather 'bout the bed. On your behalf, Miss, I suggest that it's better still in one piece."

Embarrassed and lightly blushed, Ann quickly turned her head away from the man. "Sorry for the… noise," she stuttered and quickly left the Saints Hotel to head out of Valentine as soon as possible. But where to? And after all, where was her horse?! Calido wasn't where she had racked him up yesterday.

Baffled, she turned and began wandering around, looking for her Pinto Mustang everywhere in the small town. Even after questioning some locals as well as the sheriff she hadn't got a clue about the whereabouts of Calido – as always nobody had seen a shit.

Coming to think about it, only Arthur was qualified for the perfect horse theft. Plus he knew Calido very well because that damn horse had faith in him. He could have easily taken him along. By God, Ann swore she would kill the outlaw for stealing her boy. Her hand grabbed his handkerchief and squeezed the fabric forcefully, nearly tearing is down with rage.

The bounty huntress now needed a new horse to get to that man that stole her actual horse! Moreover that new horse would cost money – money she shouldn't spend. She would so take a ride to Rhodes and pay Sheriff Gray a visit to ask about his fellow deputy Mister Callahan. If Calido was involved, Ann definitely couldn't take a joke.

After tossing and turning in bed the whole night, Arthur was now more than glad to finally have his morning cup of coffee at the campfire. He was all tired from reflecting himself after he had left the Saints Hotel and returned to the camp. Brooding over what was the wrong and what was the right thing to do was always the part he feared most because of his often changing attitude. It was all about that damn dichotomy of heart and mind.

Following to what his heart was telling him, it probably had been the right thing to stay with her for the night, to confide his troubles to her. His gumption, however, was advising the contrary, reminding him of Mary and how he had never been enough for her just because of being the man he was. Yet ignoring his heart wasn't the solution to this problem, Arthur knew that.

Damn, all this bullshit was distracting him from the gang's current situation! There was still the O'Driscoll conflict as well as the Gray-Braithwait matter. Some days ago they had just stolen some of the Braithwait's precious horses; now Hosea was talking something about a meeting with Miss Braithwait and burning tabacco fields of the Grays.

Good old Hosea. Arthur remembered a talk he had with him not so long ago when they were hunting that giant bear. Back then he stated that there was a time he and Bessie were indeed thinking about getting out of this criminal life. And although – according to Hosea – this resolution didn't last long Arthur kind of admired his mentor for talking about it so bluntly. He himself would have never done that; it also wasn't ever at issue.

Or was it? His thoughts wandering off again, he recalled last night once more. What would have been the alternative to his refusal? Getting her on board? She had hinted at something like that, yes, but he wasn't in the position of having the final say. Still that was Dutch.

The other option, Arthur figured, was simply backing out – code aside. Still his loyalty to the gang – especially Dutch – was strong, so he exactly knew that he would never take this into consideration. He did not do it for Mary and he wouldn't do it for Ann.

Sighing in irritation, he rubbed his scrubby chin. Not that he wasn't secretly glad about her having sincere interest in him and his whole life, about her seemingly taking him the way he was, about her screaming with pure pleasure when he was fucking her… Jesus, what a night!

"Cowpoke!"

With Micah suddenly slapping on his shoulder, Arthur startled. He nearly spat out his coffee but choked on it instead. Coughing like crazy, he watched the other man joining him at the campfire.

"Careful, careful," Micah viciously smiled. "Seein' ya were out again tonight?"

Oh yeah, that story again. Of course this rat would try to provoke him once more. Ever since the day Lenny couldn't keep his damn mouth shut Micah was trying to tease him about his new lady friend whenever possible. Sometimes Arthur felt the urgent need to blow his brains out but for Dutch's sake he swallowed his anger.

"What's it, cowpoke?" Micah watched him, pretending to be concerned. "Stamina's better, I guess? Else this pretty little scarred whore of yours wouldn't put out. Arthur, oh Arthur, ya hard-ass!"

Arthur just looked at the rat's fist, playfully hitting his upper arm, like they were bust buddies for years. Right now was one of these special moments in which he simply would have loved killing him. Closing his eyes, he then puffed. Neither was Ann a whore nor was she scarred. That lack of respect annoyed him.

"You know what, Micah? Mind your own damn business. I was out there gatherin' information 'cause someone needs to raise the fucking money. Bat wings ain't enough to live off." Arthur stood up, now patting his comrade on the shoulder. "And now… I'm gonna play deputy at Rhodes."

Satisfyingly silencing Micah, he headed for his horse, eager for what kind of work Sheriff Gray had to offer today.

"Arthur?"

It was Abigail sheering up and he immediately stopped to hear what she had to say. After all she was one of the few people around here he really and truly appreciated.

"Don't take him serious, he's just an asshole," Marston's companion said, slightly smiling.

In response Arthur did the same. "Tell me 'bout it, Abigail. Should've left him rotten at Strawberry." Mounting, he then wished her a good day and headed out for Rhodes to meet Leigh Gray.

She had bought a Morgan for 15 bucks – a Morgan just like Morgan. And she had named it Morgan. Still fuming, Ann finally reached Rhodes in the afternoon, straightly approaching Gray's office.

The long ride turned out to be pure torment; every movement of that damn horse causing her to make contact with the damn saddle was sore. In fact she was the luckiest person on earth when she could eventually jump off the lame Morgan; she didn't even bother to rack it up anywhere because seriously, nobody would have stolen this kind of animal.

So far, so good. Now on to the real Morgan.

In the sheriff office Gray told her that his deputy had already knocked off and that therewith he didn't know where to find him. So Ann had no other option but to search for him on her own. There was a high probability that by now Arthur was already with his folks again and of course she knew shit about the hideout. If they were smart, they were often switching locations.

Already cursing the whole world and especially the whole day, Ann suddenly paused stumping around the settlement. There he was! Sitting and leaning against a tree near the church while scribbling in that note-book she saw last week.

Ann caught her breath and rounded him unobtrusively, finally approaching him from behind, her revolver ready. When she was right behind him she aimed at the back of his head, cocking the weapon clearly audible. "Alright, where's Calido? And don't you dare to move."

Not moving at all, his answer wasn't long in coming. "Calido? Your horse?"

"Of course my damn horse! You stole it and now you'll give it back!"

"Listen, Ann. I ain't stealin' horses."

"Like you ain't robbing banks, you mean?" Tired of his doubletalk, she fired a bullet right next to his head, missing him on purpose. A friendly reminder that she better wasn't to be fucked with.

At least the sudden shot was enough to make him cringe. He let go of his note-book and turned around, watching her in some kind of awe. "Careful, okay?!"

"You, Mister, owe me 15 bucks!" Ann wasn't finished yet. Still aiming at him, she pointed at her newly purchased horse. "Get me Calido back already and you can have that fucking Morgan called Morgan!"

Arthur blinked and then snorted, obviously not taking her serious anymore. "You really tellin' me you named it after me?"

He promptly reached for the hand holding the revolver and twisted her wrist so that she had to drop the weapon immediately. After that he collected it from the ground. She was cursing and holding her aching hand when he drew himself up to his full height.

"Now once again," he said. "Your horse's gone and it's my fault?"

"Calido trusts you!" Ann yelled, still upset about the uncertainty of not knowing how and where the stallion was. "You had all the time tonight and you know exactly what my horse looks like!"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because it's a goddamn Mustang! You don't get them up here too often!"

"Quite true but seriously, Ann." Arthur held out her revolver to her again, cocking his head. "Wasn't me who stole him. He's a pretty precious horse so it could've been anyone."

"But when you left tonight-"

"Well, when I left he was still there. I ain't doin' shit to your horsy."

Realizing how wrong she was, Ann turned away and then leaned against the trunk. If it wasn't Arthur, who on earth could have taken him? Where was she supposed to start looking if nobody had seen anything? Was it Del Lobos? Because she killed some of them? Were they going to kill her only and best friend in return? "Oh God, no," she murmured, slumping down and trying to figure out a plan.

"That new horse," Arthur spoke in a husky voice right into her ear. "It even ain't worth 15 bucks by the way."

Angered, she looked at him. "Shut it, will ya?! And before you ask: No, I don't need your goddamn help!"

"Good, saves me a lotta time." The outlaw picked up his note-book again. "I ain't responsible for the Heartlands anyway."

Rolling her eyes, Ann decided to not waste any more time. She ran over to her Morgan, anxious to not let her motions look too frantic because the real Morgan noticing about her aftereffects was all she had needed. Riding back to Valentine would take some time again – time she could use for coming up with a good plan on how to find Calido's kidnapper. If it was really Del Lobos, she was most likely well-advised to start her investigation down south, where their main territory was located. They probably had brought the Mustang to New Austin again and maybe already sold him to retrieve part of her debt. But considering that Calido was of great value they might just as well have sold him in New Hanover. Shit, this felt like finding a needle in a haystack. She didn't even know all the horse dealers around here! With Arthur's help or at least his knowledge it might have been easier to make a start.

The bounty huntress slowed down her horse shortly after leaving Rhodes, pondering if she should just return and ask him because this certainly wasn't the time for wounded pride. Quietly groaning, she then turned Morgan the Morgan and suddenly froze. In front of her was Calido, being accompanied by a well-known man on his American Paint Horse.

"Hola, Miss McBrady. Long time no seen," he said, dangerously smiling. "Lost a bunch of men yesterday and thought we better do a little talk. To get things ready, ya know?"

Yes, this was the man who was supposed to die yesterday evening: Diandro Sánchez.