The ride back to Shady Belle was long, mostly silent and horribly uncomfortable. Rane and Arthur rode side by side, both feeling as shameful as the next. Above them, the afternoon wore on heedless of the discomfiture beneath, warm and sunny and gorgeous, rife with a brisk breeze that seemed to herald an approaching rain and redolent with pollen and oak. Geese rode the skies over them, calling hoarsely, and the horses looked anxiously toward the swamps as they clopped along, ears pricked and eyes keen, watching the alligators basking along the water's edge as they went with clear distaste.

Arthur glanced sidelong at Rane several times, opening his mouth, but he could never quite bring himself to say anything. Part of it was the set of her body, clearly sheepish and unhappy. She sat astride her horse, her hips rocking back and forth with the motion of its cadence, jeans stained with drying blood from her wound, her hair thrown back in the wind and her brows dark and knitted, eyes flicking over the trail before them. He had never seen a woman who looked more guilty, and he understood. He'd just witnessed a man break in front of him, a man who he'd called his brother. And he was responsible.

"Rane, listen -"

"I broke his heart," said Rane softly, not looking at him. She didn't meet his eyes; hers were ahead on the trail, but Arthur saw the brightness in them. "I broke his heart, Arthur, right there in front of me. Even Charles saw it."

Arthur sighed roughly. "Yeah, I know it."

"We're gonna get yelled at, aren't we?"

"Oh." Arthur shook his head, laughing grimly. "I have no doubt about it."

He wasn't wrong. When they rode into camp and hitched their horses, Dutch was already glowering over at them. John and Hosea were standing near his tent, and the camp was in a state of breakdown. It was clear they were fixing to move.

"Arthur, get over here right now," said Dutch loudly when he saw the two of them riding in. He looked pissed. "Right fuckin' now."

"Go help Miss Grimshaw pack up," said Arthur, lifting his chin toward camp. "I expect I got a tongue-lashin' in store."

Rane cast a final look at John, who was following her with his eyes, unsmiling, then turning strode off. Arthur approached the three of them, hands shoved into his pockets.

"Hey, Dutch," he muttered.

"Hey yourself," said Dutch. He gestured at John. "Mister Marston here tells us you and young Miss Roth cleared out Shady Belle, and he also says that he came upon a pretty surprising little scene when he rode up."

"Oh, he did, did he?" said Arthur, looking crossly at John. "Pray tell."

"From the sound of it, him and Charles caught you at a bit of a disadvantage this mornin'," said Hosea grimly. "You got anything you wanna share with the rest of us, Arthur?"

Arthur tipped his hat back, rubbing his forehead. "Not particularly, no."

"Arthur, we just talked about this," said Dutch, shaking his head. "Not three days back, we did. I told you boys then that I didn't want either one of ya getting mixed up with her, and here we are, the both of you -"

"The hell's it matter anyways?"

"That's big talk for you after all your spouting off about not knowin' her from Eve," said John flatly.

"Hey, maybe you done just about enough talkin' for one day," Arthur said, giving him a dark look. "You're gonna wear yourself out with all that thinkin' you been doing today -"

"Don't mince your damn words, Arthur Morgan," said Hosea sharply. "We oughta know. That's just business."

Arthur sighed, looking defeated.

"Then yeah," he said reluctantly. "I guess maybe we're a little bit sweet on each other. That what you wanna hear?"

"Goddammit, Arthur." Dutch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I told ya I didn't want that girl compromised, I need her, and this ain't exactly the best time for you boys to be fightin' -"

"We ain't fightin'."

"Yeah, well the faces on the both of you say otherwise," said Hosea. "Bleedin' halfway down your fronts and pissed off as a couple of damn schoolkids -"

"We ain't fightin'," Arthur repeated steadily. "It's done and over with and it is what it is. I can't help it, and nor can she." He grasped Dutch's arm. "I ain't never failed you yet and I won't now, Dutch."

Dutch looked between Arthur and John, his eyes hard. "I don't need the pair of you feudin' over a woman right now -"

"Well, that's an easy fix," said Arthur, and gestured to the far end of the camp. "His goddamn wife and boy are right over there. He's got enough to be worryin' about."

"Don't you start back up," John said, low.

"Alright, enough," said Dutch, shaking his head and looking weary. "I can see there ain't nothin' I'm gonna be able to do about this, so you two fools are just gonna have to sleep in the beds you made. But if I catch so much as a whiff of her losin' her spine," he added coolly, looking at Arthur, "that's your ass, Arthur Morgan. That girl is useful and I want her sticking around. So don't you fuck this up."

Arthur lifted both hands palms-out, shaking his head. "Fine. Whatever you say."

"What's the state of Shady Belle?" Dutch asked, massaging the bridge of his nose and looking exhausted.

"Ready." Arthur shifted his weight, linking his hands in his belt loops and pointedly ignoring John's cold glare. "Me and Rane cleared them raiders out. It's a nice place."

"Why's she all bloodied up?"

"Gutshot. She's fine," Arthur added as John and Hosea both looked concerned. "It was messy, is all."

"Well, while you and your little lady have been out makin' eyes at each other," said Dutch, "me and Hosea have caught onto a lead. We all got work to do this afternoon while these lot are migrating."

"What lead?"

"Rane!" said Dutch, raising his voice and looking over Arthur's shoulder. Rane, who was bent pulling a tent post from the ground next to Susan Grimshaw, looked up. "Get over here!"

"It's a good one," Hosea said as she strode over, looking at Arthur. "Real good. Might be our last one."

"Definitely will be our last one," said Dutch. "The last score we need to make before our early retirement, gentlemen. Miss," he added, nodding to Rane as she drew near.

"You wanted me?"

"Miss Roth, we are fixin' to rob a bank this day," said Dutch. "I'm gonna need your help."

"Rob a bank?" Rane glanced from Dutch to Hosea. "Jesus."

"He don't much factor into it," said John gruffly, pulling a smoke and lighting it, looking into the distance. Hosea laughed grimly.

"Dutch, you ain't thinkin' of taking Saint Denis." Arthur was looking at him warily, his eyes bright and blue beneath the rim of his hat. "That place is crawlin' with law."

"Well," said Dutch, clapping Rane on the shoulder genially. "We got somethin' they don't."

THE camp was set to move out by the time Dutch was prepared to ride. He'd insisted that all of them - Bill, Lenny, Charles, Micah, John, Hosea, Arthur, Javier, Abigail and Rane - get spiffed up, and Susan Grimshaw had found Rane a dress from her stash, something Rane balked at.

"Do I have to?" she said, looking at Dutch. "Christ, I hate dresses -"

"You do as I say," Dutch had told her grimly, "we gotta look like upstanding men and women and you got blood from God only knows who all up and down you. Go see Miss Grimshaw, she'll fix you up. Do as I say."

So she had, reluctantly. When she'd emerged from Susan's tent amidst the camp packing up and rolling out, flipping the flap aside irritably, all eight of the men waiting at the hitching post fell silent and simply stared. Arthur felt his heart do a curious little flip-flop in his chest at the sight of her. Susan had chosen a black bodice for her, and it clung closely to her lean torso, the neckline plunging down past her collarbones, the afternoon sunlight glistening off her bare shoulders. She'd tied her hair back into a knot at the top of her head, and she had buckled her swordbelt over her dress at her trim waist, making the sight of her weirdly ridiculous, a combination of Victorian elegance and warrior; it could not have been clearer that she was massively uncomfortable, but Arthur could have happily gawked at her all day anyways. She was so goddamned beautiful that it felt like the breath had been snatched right out of his chest. Even Micah was watching her draw near with his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Holy hell," said Lenny lightly. "I guess the view ain't so awful."

Abigail, who was sitting astride a wagon pulled by a pair of heavy brown stallions next to Hosea, glared at John. "You'd put your damn eyes back in your head if you knew what was good for you," she snapped, low.

John averted his gaze, reddening a little. "I ain't even doin' nothin', Abigail."

"Like hell you ain't, ya damn pig."

"You two quit it," said Hosea sharply, looking over at her. "We got work to do."

"Well, Lenny ain't wrong," said Javier, looking aft, his eyes glittering. "I ain't seen a prettier sight since I don't even know when."

"Watch your mouth," Arthur murmured, low, glancing sidelong at him. Javier did, but he was grinning, still looking at Rane as she drew near, his dark eyes glimmering.

"Is this okay?" Rane asked, approaching Dutch and spreading her arms.

Dutch looked at her for a moment, almost comically tongue-tied, his eyes wide. Arthur could have laughed, and he saw Hosea looking at this with shrewd amusement as well.

"Yeah, that's . . . that'll do," he said at last, shaking his head. "Grab a saddle."

It was easier said than done. Rane Roth, who had been raised on Elven horseback since she was knee high to a grasshopper, had spent most of her life in a pair of jeans and quickly discovered that getting aboard a mount wearing a dress like this was nothing to sneeze at.

"You need help or somethin'?" Arthur asked her at length from horseback, watching her struggle with droll amusement.

"No," Rane said, glowering at him over her shoulder. "No, I do not need help -"

"Only askin' 'cuz you look like you're havin' a hard time, is all -"

"Shush, Arthur. I'm fine," Rane snapped, glaring over her shoulder at him. "I've been climbing onto horses since I was scarce-hipped and two feet high. Piss off, why don't you."

Arthur shut up, smirking at her as she grasped arduously at the horse's side, feet flailing. After a few bad tries she finally managed to struggle up, grasping the saddle horn, the horse pawing uneasily as she did, and slung her leg over the other side, yanking at the dress to get her boots into the stirrups.

"So what exactly are we going to do?" Rane asked, reeling the horse around and following Dutch and the others as they rode out of Clemens Point, smoothing her skirts, a little pink-faced.

"Hosea here is gonna take Abigail and cause a distraction across town," said Dutch from up ahead. "That'll draw the law away a little bit, 'least long enough to get us indoors. Then, Miss Roth, you're gonna open them safes for us and we're gonna rob old Uncle Sam blind. That's what we're gonna do. And then we're all gonna get the hell outta here."

There was a rumble of appreciative laughter at this. Abigail continued to stare ahead stonily, unsmiling.

"You got a spell for openin' safes?" Micah asked, glancing at her and looking skeptical. "Or you just gonna bash it around with your sword?"

"What else? Just open up the safes?" Rane asked Dutch, ignoring this.

"Well, I hope so," said Dutch. "But I'd just as soon have you on your toes anyways. Same for the rest of you boys."

"So what about the rest of us? Or we just gonna let the little lady do all the work for ya?" said Micah.

"Hosea and Abigail start a fuss, draw out the police, and we go in calm and fast," said Dutch. He spoke stridently and with practiced ease, like a man reciting a speech, and Rane was reminded again of a politician. He had charisma coming out his ears, this man. "John and Lenny secure the back doors. Javier takes the side exit. Bill, Micah and Charles, control the crowd. Me and Arthur deal with the bank manager, and Rane deals with the vault. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Yep."

"Gentlemen," said Hosea, "we're gonna ride on ahead, me and Abigail."

"How long do you need?" Dutch asked him.

"Not long. Fifteen minutes or less. You'll know by the noise. Any problems and we'll see ya back at camp."

"Good luck, gentlemen," said Abigail, lifting one hand, and Hosea snapped the reins on their little wagon, teasing the two horses into a gallop and pulling ahead. Rane watched it diminish, her brow furrowed.

"Don't think she likes you much at the moment," said Lenny at her elbow, his voice low, casting her a sympathetic look. "Lotta talk 'round camp this mornin'."

"Yeah, well." Rane sighed, snapping the reins. "I'll try not to lose too much sleep over it."

"Enough with that talk, Lenny, let her alone. Now, you all know the drill." Dutch glanced at Rane from over his shoulder. "Miss Roth, I know you ain't never pulled one of these off, but all these other boys have, so you stick close to Arthur and follow our lead."

"Shouldn't be too tough," said John, low. Dutch either didn't hear this or chose to ignore it.

"You just mind what he tells ya, and don't lose your head." Dutch laughed. "Though I'm told you ain't much the type to lose your head, so maybe I'm worryin' for nothin' at all. I do gotta say." He looked back at her again, his eyes roving over her face. "I'm lookin' forward to seein' you in action finally, after all my boys talkin' ya up. See if you're worth all the gab."

"Well, then I guess I better put my trotting harness on," said Rane, smirking. Micah rolled his eyes.

"He'll be next, way he's talkin'."

"Shut up, Micah," said Bill roughly.

"Yeah, that you better, girl," Dutch was saying. His eyes lingered on Rane's a moment longer, speculative, then turned back to the trail. "That you better."

"What if there are people in there?" Rane asked a touch diffidently.

"Well, then we'll deal with 'em," said Duth, grim. "You ever killed a man., Rane? Besides them Pinkertons?"

"Yes," said Rane, low.

"Lot of em?"

"Yes." Rane met Dutch's eyes.

"Well, you might have to kill another or two if they get outta hand. That's the way this goes." Dutch turned his eyes from her. "You good, Bill?"

"Yep." Bill Williamson was pacing Dutch, astride a massive fetlocked stallion the color of old wood. "Good as ever."

"Then ride in with Charles," said Arthur, waving a hand toward him. "We don't wanna be seen headin' in like some posse of country outlaws."

"Come on, let's ride!" said Dutch, his voice strident, and there was a cry of approval. Rane, silent, watched the back of him, considering him. She couldn't shake the idea that she was witnessing an election event more so than a raid, in spite of herself. "The last score, boys! This is it!"