A/N- I want to finish Jack and Effie's story before Red Dead 2 comes out. Life gets in the way, but I'm going to try.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever own Red Dead Redemption or any of its characters. The only parts of this story I own are the plot lines that come after the ending of the game as well as my original characters. The content of this story was not meant to insult anyone in any way, shape or form. Rated T for violence and coarse language.

Chapter Track: White Lie -The Lumineers

Chapter 29: Heart

Silence. A quiet so complete that it's utterly deafening covers the crowd gathered around us, every gaze focused on the battered person propped up in my arms. The horse he had ridden in on continues its heavy breathing and shakes out its mane, a movement that draws me from the trance Charlie's warning had put me in. I have to say something.

"W-what are you talking about?" I manage to stammer out, and it seems that the sound of my voice startles a few others out of their own shock. "Charlie, what happened to you?"

He swallows thickly, still staring at Governor Bates. "You...have to get out of here. Just you. I heard them-" he breaks off momentarily to let out a few coughs. The Governor stirs, but Charlie goes on before anyone else can speak. "They know...I told them your plans. I'm so sorry."

"They hurt you," I state the obvious, because his words are not at all a revelation. Charlie nods slowly in response, a look of great shame on his dust-covered face, but I don't blame him for giving up our secrets. I knew from the first second they took Charlie that we'd lost the element of surprise. Unlike the rugged folk of New Austin, most higher-class Blackwater citizens aren't strong enough to weather real and physical hardships.

I help Charlie sit up in a position that's slightly less difficult to maintain and scoot back about a foot. A glance up at the Governor shakes me thoroughly, makes me feel more hesitant. With his eyes closed and his brows furrowed, Nicholas Bates has made it clear that everything has changed for the worse.

"It seems that our plans are no longer viable," he mutters, and someone gasps. "Fordham's men will most likely be closing rank around Blackwater within the next few-"

"No!" Charlie interrupts, his voice so much louder and afraid that it makes me jump. "You're not listening! They're not going to Blackwater, they won't let you get that far!"

"Charlie, what do you-" I begin, but he cuts me off too.

"They're coming here! All of them! The police, the criminals, everyone Fordham's got working for him, they're all coming here! They're going to-"

Charlie doesn't get a chance to finish this before dissolving into another fit of heavy coughing, a maneuver that worries me greatly. It's at this moment that Jack forces his way through the crowd and spots us on the ground, me on my knees and Charlie struggling to stay seated upright. Jack's eyes tighten in a knowing way and when I meet his gaze I'm somehow sure that he's guessed what Charlie's trying to tell the Governor.

"They'll kill anyone…" my injured friend starts again once he's able to speak, "anything that stands in their way. They're going to...kill everyone here. Until they get to you."

He's looking at Governor Bates again. The hushed silence that permeated the crowd turns slowly into a buzz of whispered words and hesitant movements as all eyes turn to Nicholas Bates, waiting for him to respond to this statement. The man runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head, and takes a step closer to Charlie.

"Why would they risk that? That sort of tactic would result in the death of nearly everyone in his employ. Why would they risk that for me?"

Charlie struggles to reply, his mouth agape with no words leaving it. Jack nudges the Governor with his elbow and offers his own answer.

"'Cause it's always you he's been after, Bates. First when he chased you after Blackwater. Then again when he wanted to...to trade Collette for you," Jack lists, his jaw tensing at the last point. "And now he's tryin' again. This ain't any different from before."

Governor Bates frowns. "But this sort of action is unlike him. He's the type of man who calculates every step he takes."

"You decided to throw caution to the wind," Mr. Johnson points out. "And now it looks like he has too."

"Pa, it's not his fault," Wade chimes in. His father throws him a grim look before continuing.

"I ain't sayin' it is. We made our choice and this is the consequence, that's all. Now we have to deal with it one way or another."

"So what do we do?" I ask quietly, looking up at the people around me. To my surprise it's Charlie who answers my uneasy question.

"Run away."

Immediately this response is met with an outcry and I'm surprised that the majority of what I hear is not agreements, but protests. Everyone from Mr. Johnson to little Mrs. Warthington- a figure I hadn't noticed in the crowd until now- seems to be against what Charlie is suggesting. They don't want to run.

"Is he fucking serious?!"

"I didn't bust my ass fightin' just to scoot off the first second things got tough! Don't listen to him, Bates!"

"We ain't afraid of a yellow belly like Fordham, I'll tell you what!"

This last statement, delivered by Jonah of all people, draws the Governor's attention for some reason and holds it, forcing him to speak. I'm glad he still can because I myself am suddenly speechless, and I know I'm not alone. Both Jack and Wade look just as thoroughly shocked and confused as I feel.

"Perhaps it's not about our fear," Governor Bates offers, and most people fall silent at the sound of his voice, "or lack thereof. Perhaps it's about survival."

Mr. Johnson frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If we all die here tonight, what purpose will our lives have served? Will we accomplish everything we set out to accomplish?" he inquires, looking around at his audience. No one answers. "No. We'll have failed. Our adversary will have won and our few victories will have amounted to nothing." He scowls, his tone getting darker. "We can't allow that to happen."

This answer of his, completely contrary to everything he's said thus far, comes as a surprise to many. A good deal of the people gathered here seem as if they'd like to argue or question him, but I speak up first. I have the Governor's attention as soon as I begin talking.

"I don't understand," I say, standing up without bothering to dust off my trousers. My hair is in my face. I blow a few curled locks away from my mouth. "Isn't this what we were headed towards anyway? If he wants a fight, it might as well be here."

"Nothing's changed," Wade agrees with me. "Nothing has to change. We can beat him, it doesn't matter where."

"It matters," the Governor insists, still looking to me. "You were the one who told me that, Effie. It matters what we choose to do and how we choose to do it. It matters how many people we needlessly endanger for our cause."

I shake my head. "I was wrong, though, wasn't I? You convinced me that I was! It takes sacrifice to bring about real change."

"It does, but there is a vital difference between sacrifice and waste. The sacrifice of lives is just a part of rebellion," Governor Bates goes on, "but the waste of life does not need to be."

He turns away from me to face the crowd behind him, spreading his arms out wide as he attempts to retain their trust. "Citizens of New Austin, I know that I have, many times in the past, asked you for your patience and your faith as you followed me into the fray with little regard for your own lives. Tonight, however, you must allow me to put your lives ahead of our righteous goal." He stops, pursing his lips momentarily before continuing. "We must adapt to the methods of our enemy at every turn or our survival, and the survival of our cause, will be forfeit. Our efforts so far have not been moot. Our plans have not been dashed by this revelation, but they must be changed or else we run the risk of losing everything right here and right now. Please, I beg of you, follow me into the fray one last time. I promise that your trust won't be misplaced."

"What exactly are you sayin' we should do?" Mr. Johnson inquires in a prickly sort of manner. "Run away? Hide? 'Cause there ain't no way to hide this many people in such a short time, Bates. Fightin' is all we can do."

He's right. Even if the vast majority of the people here agreed with Bates- which doesn't seem to be the case regardless- there'd be no way to disperse the rebellion before Fordham's men reached us. The Governor turns to Mr. Johnson and shakes his head.

"I know it would be foolish to try either of those things, Mr. Johnson. And I don't think that anyone here is willing to give up the fight at this point. What I'm asking for is a temporary retreat, and a simple adjustment to the original plan."

He pauses, sparing a glance at the gathered crowd before gesturing for Mr. Johnson to come closer. The older man does so, listening attentively as the Governor leans over to whisper something lengthy into his ear. A minute or so later, Mr. Johnson steps back and turns to face the crowd.

"I need the marshals to gather up inside the church and wait for me and Bates to come speak with them," he says, loudly and clearly. "Everyone else, get to packin' 'cause we need to get the hell out of here as soon as we're done with our chat. This fight's not over yet."

And with that, the tension seems to break and the gathered crowd members begin to talk and yell, throwing questions and accusations at both Mr. Johnson and Nicholas Bates until the former starts to usher them away with the help of two or three marshals. Ignoring the din, I step away from Charlie and closer to the Governor, intent on having my own inquiries answered before he goes running off anywhere. Seeing this, Jack and Wade both follow suit and come up behind me.

"What's going on?" I ask immediately, keeping my voice low. "What 'simple adjustment' are you talking about?"

How can any sort of deviation from the plan be described as simple at a time like this?

"We are going to fall back and return to Fort Mercer," the Governor replies in a volume similar to mine. "If we manage the timing correctly, we'll be able to bait Fordham's men into following us there without any chance that they will pass through Armadillo and bring harm to the people there."

"How is that any...any different from us dying out here?" Charlie speaks up hoarsely, still seated a few feet away. "You have to...run. There isn't any other way."

I glance back to the crowd before answering. "The Fort is more defensible than being out in the open like this, even busted up the way it is now. Am I right?"

"You are. Returning to the Fort will protect as many lives as possible without us surrendering in full. But there's more to our new plans than that alone. In order to minimize casualties, I am going to take Mr. Vanderbilt's suggestion to heart."

"What do you mean?" Wade says, surprised.

"I," the Governor continues grimly, "am going to run away."

A momentary silence falls over the five of us before Jack speaks.

"What?! You can't just run off and leave these people to fend for themselves!"

"That's not what I'm doing in the slightest, Mr. Marston," Bates is quick to assure him. "In fact, my escape will hopefully encourage Fordham to chase after me with a good amount of his followers rather than having them follow the rest of you back to Fort Mercer."

"But you'll die if they catch you!" I point out, afraid. His plan is not a bad one but without him, I'm not sure how we'll get along.

"I wasn't planning on allowing them to do such a thing. Rather, I was intending to lead them into an ambush."

Following this, the Governor quickly outlines how he will travel a route arcing around Greenhollow by the San Luis River and then north to the eastern entrance of Pike's Basin where several of our snipers will be waiting to ambush our enemies from above. If this idea of Bates's works the way he intends it to, the snipers will have enough time to set up before his arrival and Fordham will be dead by this time tomorrow. Somehow, I doubt any of this is going to go according to plan. No matter what we do, no matter what steps we take to insure that things go the way we want them to, Fordham has always managed to throw a wrench in our schemes so far. So, when I agree to once again go along with whatever the Governor has decided is best, I do it with a deep sense of foreboding that I just can't seem to shake. Pike's Basin is, after all, the very place where Collette was murdered mere months ago.

Once we're done discussing the finer details of the plan, such as who will go with whom and how everyone else will retreat in the meantime, I see Charlie gesture for the Governor's attention and tell him something I can't quite make out. When their conversation has ended, the Governor gets up from where he'd knelt down beside my friend and comes over to me.

"What was that about?" I'm quick to inquire. Bates seems to do his best to keep quiet as he answers me.

"Mr. Vanderbilt has informed me that we'd be better off riding into Pike's Basin from Hanging Rock rather than entering the canyon from east. It appears that the majority of our adversaries are scattered across Hennigan's Stead."

Those words strike fear into my heart. MacFarlane's Ranch is smack dab in the center of Hennigan's Stead and multiple people important to both the Governor and myself are currently residing there. They're in danger. Both his family and mine are directly in the line of fire and Fordham probably knows it. He decides to skirt past that somber thought, though I can see he's just as worried as I am, to tell me something else.

"He's offered to guide the way there, though I don't believe he'd be able to remain on horseback by himself. Would you be willing to support him, Effie?"

I frown. "Is it really the best idea to have him with us? He's doin' bad enough as it is."

If Charlie dies while with us, I won't be able to forgive myself for it.

"This is what he wants to do," the Governor says. "Far be it for me to tell a man that he can't do what he believes will be most helpful. And I feel that he won't be in much more danger with us than he would be falling back with the rest of our people. I doubt their journey back west will be free from conflict."

"Fine then," I say with a sick feeling of finality in the pit of my stomach. "Fine. I'll take him."

Governor Bates seems to notice my somber mood and steps even closer to me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. His gray eyes bore into my blue as if searching for answers to questions he hasn't even ventured to ask me yet.

"What are you thinking, Effie?" he inquires, still staring at me. I glance away.

"Nothing good."

"Why don't you share with me anyway?"

"I have a bad feeling about all this," I mutter, looking down at the ground by my feet. "It's eating me up inside."

"And why do you think that is?"

As Bates speaks I sense Jack moving closer and coming to a stop somewhere behind me. There's something about his presence that I've been able to sense anytime he comes near me since I was thirteen. There's something about him that makes me always aware of him, everywhere he goes. But I don't look at him, even so. Just knowing he's close by is enough to comfort me sometimes.

"It just seems like God hasn't favored us for a while now," I tell Bates, speaking in a more neutral tone than before.

He laughs at this, a sound that surprises me, and removes his hand from my shoulder.

"I'm not sure he ever did, dear girl. And I don't think we need him to."

The Governor leaves it at that and departs to presumably meet with the marshals and ready his horse. I turn to Jack then and touch his arm before letting my fingers slide down to fold around his. He presses a brief kiss to my forehead before wrapping his other arm around me.

"I'm gonna go with the snipers, Effie. That way I'll be able to watch over y'all in the canyon."

"You're leaving me alone?" I ask softly, and he shakes his head.

"Wade wants to stay with Bates and I think a party of three is already pretty noticeable as it is, don't you?"

"We're supposed to be noticeable," I remind him. "Fordham is meant to follow us."

"I know, but this way I'll be able to shoot that son of a bitch when the time comes. And I won't miss, sweetheart. I can promise you that."

He squeezes me tightly and then lets me go, leaving me a little colder without his body pressed against mine. I never feel completely at ease when he's not within five feet of me; I'll never get used to the sight of him walking away.


Our journey north towards Hanging Rock is a hasty one full of fear and anxiety. It infects our mood and our actions so much so that I sense my horse's movements are more fidgety than they'd normally be. Of course, that may just be because War is supporting the weight of two now, and Charlie is a weight that he is both unfamiliar and uncomfortable with. Ahead of us Wade and the Governor are discussing something in hushed tones and keeping a careful watch on the surrounding plains and rocky outcrops. We're being trailed not too far behind, as intended, by some of Fordham's men and hopefully Fordham himself. Governor Bates was somehow certain that Fordham would be chasing us in person and I believe him because he knows that man better than I ever will or would want to. This entire revolt must sting on a personal level for the Governor, as he and Fordham were once friends. I can't imagine how I'd feel if a person I trusted in that way were to overthrow everything I believed in.

It's a tricky task to keep Fordham's men on our trail without allowing them too close, but due to Wade's guidance we manage just fine as we skirt past Armadillo, hoping to keep those villains away from the innocent people there. The path we're taking should allow Jack, Jonah, Mr. Johnson and the others with them time enough to line up across the canyon ridge around Pike's Basin as their path is more of a straight shot than ours. We're lucky, I think to myself as I tug on War's reins to turn him slightly right, that Charlie was with us to tell us which way to go. Without him we might have run into more trouble than we were prepared for in Hennigan's Stead. I hope the Governor's wife, Seth, his family, and my own are doing okay back at the ranch. I hope everyone else retreated to Fort Mercer without incident. It feels like I'm so worried about so many different things that I can't consciously focus on any one problem.

The landscape continues to become more and more rocky, the loose dirt on the roads turning into gravel underneath the horses' beating hooves as they gallop towards our destination. I glance back briefly to see Armadillo in my peripheral, and wish I was in the saloon there instead. There are so many times that I'd wished I'd never gotten involved in any of this, but then what if I hadn't? What if the Governor had failed to ever make it out of Blackwater because Jack and I hadn't been there to help him? I grimace as I imagine the state New Austin would be in with Fordham lording over it. Charlie speaks up then, seeming to have noticed my expression.

"Are you doing okay?" he asks, a comical question considering the state he's currently in. I smile and nod.

"As okay as I can be. What about you?"

"I'm alive," he mutters, his voice strained, "and I'm with you. I'm glad I got to see you again before anything else happened."

"Anything else?" I frown, confused by his wording. He shrugs listlessly.

"Just doesn't seem like the peace ever lasts very long. We're always dealing with the next thing."

He's right, I suppose. Technically we're dealing with the next thing right now. I tighten my grip around his sides and try to focus on the present, to keep my mind from wandering into the realms of what could happen in the near future. I look forward towards the Governor, admiring how he looks so self-assured- back stick straight and expression serene and self-assured- even now. I wish I was more like him. I'm quivering in my boots, though something like that is hard to notice when we're all on horseback like we are. As I'm watching the Governor, however, I see something in his expression shift. We're nearing Hanging Rock and the closer to the foreboding place we get, the darker his expression seems to become until I'm left wondering if he's seeing the body of someone he cares about hanging from the tree there. I tear my gaze away from him to look towards the strange rock formation myself, and immediately I sense my heart dropping in my chest. Time seems to slow to a stop as I instinctively yank on War's reins in an effort to get him to stop moving towards the nightmare of a sight in front of me.

Fordham.

War rears up as I stop him and his hooves hit the ground, scattering dirt and gravel on the path, but I can't hear the noise. Governor Bates and Wade have also halted in their tracks and their expressions mirror mine. None of us expected this. None of us thought we would see Fordham here, dressed in all black and flanked by five or six other men- all on horseback- with their rifles and handguns and revolvers aimed right at us. He himself holds no gun, and somehow he is the most terrifying person there. Panicking, I twist my body to look behind me, thinking that maybe we can escape the way we came, but to my dismay I see that the people who were tailing us are too close for us to slip past.

"Give it up, Miss MacFarlane." Fordham's voice is calm and clear, the opposite of how I feel. "It's fruitless to look for a way out. This is where it ends."

I look back at him and our eyes meet, a motion that sends a chill of hatred up my spine. I fear him, fear what he can do, but I think I despise him even more. He looks the same as he did the first day I met him, eyes a coal black and a light layer of stubble across his uneven jaw. I've never seen him without that stupid bowler hat. His expression doesn't change at all when he looks at me, but I sense a hardening in his features that make me sure he feels the same way about me as I feel about him.

Hatred. And fear.

"Please don't address her when you speak," the Governor says then, turning his horse to the side so his silhouette covers me. "She doesn't need to be the target of your vitriol. Speak to me."

"I was getting to that," Fordham sneers at Bates, "but it's funny how you seem to think you have any choice in what happens from now on."

He slides off of his horse then, stepping around it and towards us at a slow and steady pace. There is a calmness and confidence in his gait that I despise purely because I know what he must be thinking. In Fordham's mind, he's won. And perhaps he has because for the life of me I can't think of a way out of this.

"Dismount, please," he addresses the four of us. I feel Charlie's arms immediately loosen from around my midriff and he clambers off my horse with all the grace I imagine a person as beaten down as him could muster. Hesitating, I look to the Governor for guidance. He's the one whose orders I'll follow, life-threatening danger in my path or not. Bates nods gently, his expression tense as expected, and I take this as a cue to get off of War as well. Wade follows suit and the Governor is the last person in our group to dismount, but one by one we stand facing Fordham on even ground.

"So, Archer," the Governor dares to speak first, "we stand here before you, to whatever end. What do you intend to do here? Should I be begging for my life?"

Fordham ignores the question. "Would you and Miss MacFarlane be so kind as to move closer?"

"I would rather she not be involved in this," the Governor insists again, his tone more serious than it had been mere seconds before. Fordham spares him a passing glance before speaking again.

"You don't need to be so worried. This isn't the dangerous part."

I decide to take initiative, though I'm so thoroughly afraid that I couldn't speak even if I wanted to, and step closer to Fordham. All that I can think about is how near we are to death in this moment, Wade, Charlie, Governor Bates, and me. I'm so glad that Jack didn't come with us. I would not be able to keep my composure if he was here too.

The Governor copies my movements and just as he reaches my side, I hear Wade yell out from behind us. I whirl around to see him crumpling to the ground, eyes closed, with one of the men who'd been following us standing over him. He's holding his rifle in such a way that I can tell he smashed the butt of it into Wade's head, knocking him out cold. My hands spring to my mouth as I hold back a fearful cry. Is he conscious? Is he alive? I lurch towards him by instinct, wanting to help, but stop in my tracks when his attacker aims his rifle at me.

"It would be in everyone's best interest if you stayed where you are, Miss MacFarlane," Fordham says from behind me. "He's just been knocked out, he'll live."

My features settle into a scowl as I turn back around to face Fordham. I wish I could comprehend what he was doing, toying with us like this. He didn't shoot us on the spot as he arrived, though I'm sure he could have, and he clearly has a plan, as one of his men had knocked Wade out without so much as a word from him. Will he hurt Charlie again? I'm not sure how much more he could take.

"It's been a long and winding road to get here, hasn't it?" Fordham asks, looking at the Governor. "You've made a mess in both West Elizabeth and New Austin with your so-called rebellion. You've disrupted so many lives. I gave you so many chances to lay down your weapons, but of course you never did."

Bates is quick to answer. "Unlike you I still believe in the freedom and free-will of each and every American citizen. They have a right to choose their way of life."

I sweep my gaze across the five men on horseback waiting behind Fordham and think of the two more at my back, the ones who had followed us all the way here. A few of them have pitying expressions on their faces as their eyes meet mine. Two of them are wearing marshal's badges on their chests. We have eight enemies here in total, none of whom- Fordham excluded- I recognize, and though my allies and I are armed I'm certain we'd be taken out before we even had a chance to reach for our weapons, if we dared to try. Even if we could somehow pull out our guns, Wade is unconscious and Charlie has never been very useful in a fight. There truly is no way out.

"That doesn't matter to me," Fordham says, crossing his arms over his chest. "The people here have about as much drive and ambition as a herd of cattle and I'm doing what I can to lead them in the right direction. But I'm not interested in discussing moral right and wrong again."

He glances at me then.

"Miss MacFarlane, have you gotten around yet to wondering how I knew to meet you all here?"

I look at him, confused, and shake my head. In my state of silent panic I had forgotten even the simplest of questions: how in the world did he know where our path would take us? I turn my face to the ground, pondering the question and going over the events of the last several hours, but before I can come up with anything I sense someone walking past me towards my adversary.

Charlie.

As I look up at him I note that his gait is even, his back is straight, and his breathing no longer seems to be labored as it had been as we'd ridden across the plains on horseback. He does not look nearly as injured as he did before and it begins to dawn on me that, though the majority of his cuts and bruises must be real, he was playing up his pain to fool me and everyone else who trusted him.

He doesn't meet my gaze as he reaches Fordham's side and turns to face us, but looks down at his feet with a mix of guilt and bitterness in his expression. It was him. All along it was him. He betrayed us. Me. He was the one who told the Governor what path we should take, what path would be safe. Why. Why?

"Why?" I whisper, tears gathering in my eyes. They burn and I try to blink them away, but through it all I can still see Charlie. The blurred outline of him. I thought he was my friend, trusted him with my life and that of everyone I cared about. Could there possibly be another explanation? Is his disloyalty the only answer here?

"Why indeed," Fordham repeats my inquiry with an air of smugness about him. "Mr. Vanderbilt, would you care to share with your friends why you've done what you have?"

Charlie's lip quivers but he doesn't move, doesn't speak. Noting his stillness, Fordham deigns to speak for him.

"About a week ago, Mr. Vanderbilt wrote to me and offered me some very valuable information in exchange for his own well-being and safe return to Blackwater. I warily considered his offer and wrote back to arrange a pretend kidnapping, in order to discuss his requests in person. We agreed that he would go back to your people, pretending to be a victim of torture, and convince you that he alone knew the exact path you should take to avoid me, when in reality he would lead you right to me. His injuries are real- they had to be- but Mr. Vanderbilt decided to rely on his acting ability to convince you of their severity."

"And your men?" Bates asks. "Are they truly here in New Austin, chasing after mine? Or was that another trick?"

"They are here, that part was true, but they're waiting for my return. They were never going to attack unless my plan had failed. I don't enjoy needless murder, you know."

"I see," Governor Bates says in a voice so calm that I almost miss the current of fury running underneath, "and what else is Mr. Vanderbilt getting out of this? I can't imagine that was all."

Fordham shrugs. "Whatever his heart desires. A prestigious position in our new government for now. My support if he decides to pursue my seat as governor later on. And an exit from this idiotic rebellion that you-"

"Effie's s-safety," Charlie stutters out suddenly, interrupting Fordham. "You swore. You promised you wouldn't kill her."

"And I won't, not today. I can't promise anything if she continues to get in my way later on."

I won't die today. It's strange to think such a thing without the relief that I feel should accompany it. Beside me, however, I notice the Governor's posture relax significantly. He may have been more worried for me than I was.

"How could you do this?" I ask Charlie, my voice desperate, and I can feel a few tears spilling down my face. "I trusted you."

He finally meets my gaze, his expression a grimace. "Effie I'm so sorry-"

"Sorry?" I repeat, my voice incredulous. "Sorry? There is no fucking amount of apologies in the world that would make this okay. I hate you! I hope I never see you again without these bastards protecting you because I really will shoot you."

He looks pained, almost regretful, but doesn't answer me. For his part, Fordham regards our exchange with more respect than I expected. He doesn't mock me, doesn't prod Charlie. He merely shakes his head and addresses the Governor once again.

"I hope you know, even now, that this isn't how I wanted things to end up," he says with a surprising amount of sentiment in his tone. "I did respect you. I still do, in a way. But we disagree in-"

"In fundamental ways," the Governor finishes his sentence for him. "I remember what you told me. And I thought we could work through it together at the time but here we are."

"Yes. Here we are," Fordham nods. He hesitates briefly before continuing, his expression decidedly more somber. "I'm truly sorry for what's going to happen next."

He quickly gestures towards the man behind me, the one who had incapacitated Wade, and before I can even think to move or struggle or run a pair of thick, muscular arms are wrapped around my neck and stomach like steel bars. I panic, letting out a yelp of fear, and then try to kick backwards at my aggressor, but this only causes him to put more pressure on my throat. My thoughts begin to spiral as he constricts my airway, my vision begins to become fuzzy. I can just barely see Charlie's expression tensing up in fear as he watches me. The Governor moves towards me at once, but Fordham steps forward as if to discourage him.

"Release her immediately!" Governor Bates demands, but Archer Fordham shakes his head.

"I can't do that. This is for her own safety," he says, but then throws a reprimanding look in the direction of the man holding me. "But I will remind Mr. Jamison that he's not supposed to hurt her if he can avoid it."

The arm around my neck relaxes slightly at that, and I gasp for air when I find that I can do so more easily. Fordham walks over to me briskly and removes my semi-auto pistol from its holster. Without hesitation he removes the bullets from my gun and chucks it over to where I'd left War, who rears up slightly, disturbed, as it lands in the grass by his feet. He lets the bullets rain down one by one in front of me before turning back to the Governor.

"Hand over your gun."

Nicholas Bates does what he's asked to do reluctantly, taking his time and fixing Fordham with a look full of fury as he passes his high power pistol over to the slightly shorter man. Fordham eyes it with some trepidation, something that surprises me, and taps its barrel against the palm of his hand.

"You already know what happens next, don't you?"

He's addressing Bates when he speaks, this much is clear. I no longer exist in his field of vision and neither do any of his followers. In his mind right now, he's standing in front of Hanging Rock with the Governor alone.

Governor Bates seems to be shaking slightly as he answers, an image that terrifies me. "Yes. I believe I do."

Fordham glances back at me then, his expression unreadable. "Would you like to hear one of the last things Edgar Ross told me, Effie MacFarlane? He said to me- he said 'you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free'. And then, being who he was, he followed that up with 'well that's a load of bull, Archer. Never tell the truth if you can avoid it'. I guess he was right, eventually, seeing as how a few months later Jack Marston murdered him for the truth." He pauses, a frown settling across his lined brow. "I never really forgave him for his lies, but I never could forgive Mr. Marston for his murder either. And Bates...I never forgave Bates for protecting the man who killed my friend. Yet here I find myself the perpetrator of even more lies."

Everything clicks into place in my mind as Fordham raises the high power pistol and aims it at the Governor's chest. It feels like something I'd already known, already should have known, and yet fear courses through my veins like the realization is new. He's going to kill Nicholas Bates. Of course he's going to kill Nicholas Bates. It's something he's been trying to do for a very long time. I cry out weakly as I realize this, struggling anew with my captor, but I can do nothing. He's too strong and I'm so weak. Powerless. I've always been powerless.

"When I decided to take the future of Blackwater into my own hands, I made sure to deal in only half truths, Miss MacFarlane, and here's one I prepared especially for you: everything will be okay."

"N-no! No-please don't do this!" I rasp out desperately, sobbing in earnest. "He has a wife! A daughter! He doesn't deserve to d-die, please just let him go and we can call this all off, I promise we will, just-"

"I can't do that. I gave you the chance to end this peacefully once already, Miss MacFarlane. I can't make that mistake again."

I continue begging, though more quietly, more brokenly. My pleas go ignored. Charlie looks away from the events unfolding before him, as much a coward as he's always been. Fordham's men express a range of emotions from somber to impassive, but none of them move or speak. Wade is where he was left in the dirt. Only Fordham, Bates, and I have any dynamism in the current scene, and only Fordham has a choice in what he can do.

"Do you have anything to say before…?" Fordham trails off, his forefinger moving to the gun's trigger. Bates quivers in place, terrified, furious, devastated. He looks over to me, his expression softening as it fills with melancholy, but his features harden in anger once more as he turns back to Fordham.

"Not to you."

"Then...I guess this is goodbye."

The gunshot rings out as he fires, a sound that deafens me despite the fact that I've shot a multitude of guns in my life with no issue. My ears are ringing but I scream, plead, cry as I watch Bates collapse into the grass beneath his feet. He doesn't seem to be dead. He can't be dead. Not him. I have no one left to follow.

The Governor chokes and gags as blood spurts out of his chest, leaks out of his mouth. It's a terrifying sight. I want to run, I want to look away, but my body instinctively struggles to go to him and do what I can to help. Fordham gives him a pitying look before nodding at my captor. He releases me and I fall to the floor too. I crawl over to my leader, still sobbing, and cradle his body to my chest as best as I can.

Fordham pockets the Governor's gun and walks back to his horse, no longer interested in me or his soon to be dead opponent. He speaks not to us, but to his men and to Charlie.

"Let's go before any more of them come looking for him," I hear him say. "This is over."

They depart, but I ignore that. I no longer care what happens to them either. I run my fingers over the Governor's face, over his chest, trying to staunch the flow of blood to no avail. He meets my gaze but I'm not sure how well he can actually see me. He says my name repeatedly, choking on it. I lean closer to hear him better and my tears spill onto his face.

"M-my...m-my f-f-family," he stutters out, his voice faint. "I-I'm sorry. S-s-so sorry. Tell th-them."

He seems to be gasping for breath in between syllables and his speech is so labored that it's a struggle for me to understand. I shake my head fervently, however, refusing.

"No!" I sob, gripping him closer. "You're not going to die, you're n-not! Please. Please. Please don't leave me! I don't know what to do."

He doesn't answer. His eyes are falling closed. I jerk him forward when he remains silent, drifting away from me, and this seems to work enough to get him to look at me again.

"Tell me what to do," I whisper, begging. He gasps again, struggling to breathe, and says something more.

"Y-you're b-brave. St-strong. You c-can d-do it. T-take my pl-place."

His hand suddenly moves to grip the fingers of my right hand, vice-like, where it's pressed against his chest. I can see that this motion has sapped him of all of his remaining strength.

"F-fin-nish...finish the j-job. S-save th-them."

His eyes close again. My hands shake uncontrollably as I jostle him again, silently praying that he'll come to once more, but he doesn't. He doesn't. I'm alone.

"I can't do it," I sob. My head leans further forward and I rest it on his chest. "Without you, I can't. Please don't make me. Don't make me."

But there is no answer. I'll never get an answer.

This is the second time I've knelt in the middle of a murder scene holding the body of someone I love, but if there is one difference between the two occurrences, it is this: now, I feel everything. Every nerve, every cell in my body is acutely aware of how it just burns to be left behind in this way when another has passed. How it aches to weep over their empty vessel, knowing for certain that you'll never speak to them again. I'll never speak to Governor Bates again. His face, his stern face that I'd grown to trust with every fiber of my being, is a sickening mess of blood and sweat and spit and tears-his and my own. His face is blank. His eyes are closed. And I'll never see them open again. I'm keening as I run a hand through his hair and then I'm fighting the urge to vomit when the scent of his blood- muddled together with gunpowder and God knows what else- hits my nose. Every part of me hurts. Every part. It almost feels as if the heart that had been shot through was mine.

It takes so long for Jack and the others to find us that it is noon before I hear my name being called as if by a search party. It takes all of my strength to call back, but I do it. I have not moved in hours. I considered getting up and going for help so many times but I couldn't make myself leave the Governor. Or Wade. He hasn't woken up and I was too afraid to go to him, to find out why. Jack is, of course, the one who spots me first, who runs to me, who gathers me up in his arms without a second thought. He doesn't react audibly to the body of Nicholas Bates laying beside me, but there are others behind him who let out infuriated yells, hushed and somber murmurs, and I'm even certain I hear someone crying. Mr. Johnson runs over to where Wade lies and lets out a string of expletives as he tries to wake my friend. I watch tersely through puffy lids as he shakes his son. My heart skips a beat when, after a few moments, Wade lets out a groan. He's alive. At least he's alive.

"How's he lookin', Mr. Johnson?" Jack calls out, worried for Wade too. Mr. Johnson peers at the wound on his son's scalp with squinted eyes.

"Concussed, maybe. Alive, definitely. I'm gonna need to get him to a doctor as soon as I can. How's Effie?"

I spot Jonah nearing our location and warily examining the dead body of Nicholas Bates with two of the other snipers before Jack puts his fingers under my chin and turns my face towards him. He looks into my eyes and I notice that his own are tightened with worry. His gaze then moves down to my neck and he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. He's furious, but he keeps it from showing through, somehow.

"Someone choked her, I think. None of the blood on her is hers."

He moves his fingers to my forehead and wipes away some of what I know must be the Governor's blood. Beside him, I hear one of the snipers muttering the word no over and over as another runs his hands over Bates's corpse. Something inside me wishes they weren't here, weren't disturbing him, but I remind myself that he is dead. No amount of prodding from them will hurt him now.

"Effie?" I hear Jack say under his breath, his lips very close to my face. I glance back at him to see him still looking at me intently. "Darlin', can you say something? Please? I need to know you're okay."

I bite down on my lip hard, drawing blood. I both want to speak and don't. This can't be like last time though, not like when Collette died. My silence hurt Jack back then and I know it would hurt him again now.

"He's dead," I say softly. "Fordham killed him."

Jack's jaw tenses. "I guessed that was what happened."

Hearing Jack's voice is acting as a catalyst to bring me back down to Earth. It's starting to fall together for me, what has happened and what needs to happen now. The Governor is dead. The rebellion is without a leader. Wade is alive, thank God, but so is Fordham. And that can't be allowed.

"James," I say suddenly, my eyes widening as I remember. Jack seems confused.

"What?"

"James has got to be in Oklahoma by now."

My partner frowns at me. "I'm not followin'."

"The Governor told me that I have to take his place," I state with more certainty, more clarity. "He told me to finish the job."

I see Mr. Johnson getting Wade up and onto his horse out of my periphery and turn towards them.

"Take him to my my grandfather's ranch. Dr. Johnston should be there. He'll be able to help."

Mr. Johnson nods once at me and continues to tend to his son. I then address Jonah and the other two snipers, leaning forward and away from Jack's grasp.

"I need you to wrap up the body of Nicholas Bates," I say sadly, "with as much gentleness and care as you can manage. And please clean the blood from his face. I'm taking him home to his family."

They appear surprised to hear me speaking to them with this amount of confidence after seeing me shell-shocked just moments before, but they comply without complaining. I glance back at the three snipers remaining in the motley group, and recognize the one whom I'd heard crying as Juarez. My heart burns for him but I realize that I have little time to comfort him if I'm going to do what has to be done.

"Effie, I don't get it," Jack says as I wave the trio forward, glancing between them and Jonas's crew. "What's goin' on? Why mention James?"

"He told me to finish the job," I repeat to Jack. And when the others, Mr. Johnson and Wade included, are gathered around me I stand up and tell them what exactly I'm planning. James, who has no idea of what happened here today, will still be coming back from Oklahoma with- hopefully- some impartial government officials in the following days. That's not going to change no matter what we decide to do now. We could choose to lay down our arms and let the chips fall where they may, which is what Fordham certainly expects us to do, or we could push forward with our original plan. Unassuming, unsuspecting, Fordham and his men are the perfect target for our fully prepared and fully intact group of rebels to attack. We can chase after them now, catch them unawares by surrounding them as they reach the plains just outside of Blackwater. A force of their size won't be rushing home at any great speed when they believe no one to be chasing them and we would definitely catch up to them in time. I outline all of this to my men, trusting them with my thoughts and praying that they won't argue against them. They don't.

"We can be in West Elizabeth the morning after tomorrow," Juarez says, his voice unwavering despite his earlier tears. "All of us. We'll gather up everyone at Fort Mercer first."

Seemingly at random, Jack walks away, over to where War is standing, and bends over to pick something up from the grass at his hooves. I ignore this to respond to Juarez.

"Good," I say a little nervously, trying to keep my tone assertive. "Good. I'll meet you near Blackwater. By Crooked Tree. I have something else I need to do first."

"And what would that be?" another one of the snipers with Juarez questions me. I glance back to where Jonah is carefully wiping the Governor's face with a handkerchief.

"I'm going to tell Mrs. Bates what happened myself. She deserves to hear it from someone who was there."

It's quiet for a moment after that, but then the others mutter their agreement. Juarez, Jonas, and the rest of the snipers say their goodbyes and leave in a hurry, though not without lingering a bit to pay their respects to their fallen leader. As Mr. Johnson and Jack work together to balance Nicholas Bates as gracefully as they can on War's back, I address my partner.

"You're coming with me, right? I don't want to do this alone."

Jack pauses his actions, looks at me with endless empathy in his gaze, and then wraps me up in a swift embrace. With his other hand he pulls my pistol out of his pocket, the thing he must have retrieved from the ground earlier, and shows it to me.

"Of course. Effie, of course," he murmurs into my hair, pressing the gun gently into my hand. "Whatever you need."


She refuses to look at him. When I tell Mrs. Bates what happened, when she collapses into me and weeps for her dead husband on my shoulder -weak in the knees and overcome by grief, I tell her that she can see him if she wants to but she refuses. I expect that she'll lash out at me in anger, perhaps blame me for what happened to him, but she just sobs and sobs into my shoulder. We stay there for so long on the couch in my grandfather's living room that I'm sure entire hours have passed by without interruption before she's able to form full sentences. We're alone here- her baby is with Aunt Bonnie and Jack is outside with the Governor- as she decides she's ready to speak to me. And it's the last thing I would have possibly expected her to say.

"I'm glad you were there with him. I'm glad he wasn't alone."