It was difficult to rationalize everything that had transpired. Lucy, now Jack; it was too risky with them both missing. Arthur prayed she was safe, but it out of the goodness of his heart that John probably managed to convince her to return. They had left in such anger, and she was probably right in her own way. He hadn't needed to intervene in Rhodes those weeks ago. Throwing her out of the camp to sleep, alone and scared; it was any wonder John had even found her. Arthur sat there on the log, thinking about where she could be, his journal hanging in his hands, when a light tap came to his shoulder.
"Arthur?" asked Miss Grimshaw, after a lengthy shouting, arguing they as a group should be more welcoming to Lucy, if, and when, she came back. Others hung their head as Arthur simply sat at his tent ashamed of his own actions. "Have you had any luck finding her? She is fond of you, and she's got a nasty temper. Like Javier at times! Not one of these low lives treated her right!?"
Arthur looked up at her, a sorrowful, and painful hurt came upon him. This seemed to soften Miss Grimshaw, if only a moment. He thought back to the earlier search he had done. Having taking John and Javier aside for questions, the former more so for any sort of clues.
"I'm sorry she disappeared," offered John. "We was gonna return. I swear!"
It was Charles, who came to him after everyone else had retired for the night. The man walked up and was carrying an oddly colored rifle in his hands. "Wait is that—"
"Wasn't Lucy carrying this?" asked Charles handing over the short rifle. It was indeed the one he had customized years ago, and the one that Lucy had taken. The side of the barrel was caked dirty with mud like it made a sudden impact without thought or care. It was surprising that no one had found it yet.
"Yea, that's mine. Shit… We aint fin-da her now…" he muttered, lowing his head.
"I think she closer than we think," offered Charles patting Arthur's arm. "We'll find her."
Arthur could see Lucy's small hands over the butt of the rifle as she had been practicing with it prior to the Rhodes man. There was satisfaction she was learning, but deep inside, it injured him she wasn't there for him now. Lucy took care of him, when no one else wanted to after the O'Driscoll kidnapping… She cared for him, maybe more than others realized… He had to find her…. The next morning, Arthur awoke to hear the men talking. Yawning and rubbing his eyes, he approached the group as they talked about the prior night, including Lucy's confirmed link with Jack.
"It's gunna work out John," said Hosea. "It's gonna work out, listen to Dutch." John was looking down in anger, Arthur could see. Shaking in his place, Lucy's image came to mind as he prayed, she was alright.
"I don't expect you to understand this but I have never been more proud of you than I am right, brother. You're doing the right thing," said Dutch, offered a firm stare of confidence.
"If I don't get that boy back safe, I'm… She… She'll kill us all!" said John scared.
"I know, but looking at this logically, that boy is fine." Arthur looked up at John, and nodded firmly.
"They took him to scare us. No body takes a boy to harm him," said Dutch confidently.
"He's right John," said Hosea in agreeance. Arthur nodded as well, resting his hands on the black belt hanging on his hips. "What you think Arthur? And of Lucy?"
"The boy'll be fine. If he's wit Lucy, then he's al'ight. She will protect him, but of course Marston's scared rotten. We killed all those people, we stirred all dat trouble… for nothing," he said throwing his foot down in the dirt.
"No, no, not for nothing," protested Dutch leaning back. "For livin'. Now, we get that boy and Miss Bennett back and then we go…"
A moment later and they looked up seeing two men walking up, interrupting everyone. This man said he was named Agent Milton, from the Pinkerton Detective Agency. One by one, first with Dutch, Hosea, then pausing on John, finally the agent acknowledged Arthur. Dutch and Agent Milton exchanged few kind words. The man to Agent Milton's right kept looking around at everyone.
"But I came to make a deal. It's time. You come with me and I give the rest of ya three days to run off, disappear, and go, and live like human beings someplace else," added Agent Milton.
"You came for me?" questioned Dutch with a smirk. Arthur eyes followed the second agent.
"Just you," confirmed Agent Milton.
But all around them, every person drew their weapon. No one allowed Dutch to leave. After another exclaim from the man, Lenny tried to shoo him away, but Agent Ross stopped a moment behind his fellow agent. Looking over his shoulder, he let out a loud laugh before, a moment later, turning slowly.
"Ooh, one more thing," he started shaking his finger. "We have contact from New York looking for her daughter. Aged about twenty-two now. Dark brown hair. Brown eyes. Tan skinned," he walked closer as he spoke again in Arthur's direction. "Mexican…" he eyed Javier sourly, "Upper class upbringing."
"We ain't got anyone –" snapped Arthur, getting really irate. If this Agent was telling the truth, and something about it seemed too real to be false. Trying his hardest to not show his true emotions, the more he spoke, the more heated he became.
"Goes by the name Bennett," said Agent Ross finally stepping right to Arthur. "Lucy, short for Lucia, but our agency reports her real sur name is Rodriguez."
At the call of her name, Arthur narrowed his eyes but remained quiet. Standing too rigid to do much, he felt himself begin to shake. The agent's eyes tapered, feeling his hands tightening around the handle of the pistol. He remained cool and calmly raised his gun up to holster it.
"Ain't ever heard da name," stated Arthur, trying his damn hardest to not knock this man on his ass.
"If you could see to it, Mr. Morgan, she's a wanted woman to many… many men … where she came from," smirked Agent Ross. "Her mother will pay the highest bidder for her… safe… return."
Agent Ross could tell he was unnerving him but simply smiled and turned away with the other agent. As they left, and after a quick conversation with Dutch, did Arthur let out his held breath. His heart was beating inside his rib cage. Anger had finally unleased and it took Miss Grimshaw holding her hands out to stop him from storming off into the day. All he could see was Lucy scared and alone….
*dot*
It took everything in her power to not scream, but she knew, by the looks of these men, they were not friendly. There in front of her was that Italian man from Rhodes. He stood there with a smirk planted on his cheeks as he twirled a piece of her hair, his grin getting wider. The men were talking in a language she didn't know but it
"Let me go! I don't know what you're saying! What?!" she shouted in Spanish at them, but they only laughed. Struggling against the man holding her, she was pulled up the red carpeted manor to the second-floor study and faced a short man sitting in a tall chair. Trying once more to get a loose grip, it seemed the man in the chair was disagreed with how Lucy was being handled.
"Get your hands off her! I told you never to hurt a woman or a child! What's not to understand!" the man snapped off quickly in the same language as the others. His eyes lingered on Lucy's confused face a few times. Before realizing she didn't understand, he stood up and questioned her a moment in his language, before trying Spanish.
"Signorina, stai bene?" he asked directly opening his hands in peace. Lucy studied his face but still couldn't make out his meaning. "You speak Spanish, no?" he repeated back.
"Yes, I speak Spanish, not yours. Tell your men to let me go!"
Signor Bronte nodded with a smile and then spoke again in Spanish. "I don't mean to hurt you, miss. My men are not courteous to women. Please accept my apologies," he said extending a hand toward Lucy. He continued talking as he snapped fingers and maids entered, beginning to dress her. "Signorina, please allow them to help you. Meet us in the dining room."
Lucy stared and memories came flying back from when she was a child. It was odd to dressed by someone else. She just wished her heart would stop beating…. After getting dressed and eating some food, she searched the manor for Jack, finding him playing in one of the spare rooms. The boy looked up and smiled, before running up to her.
"Jack!" she whispered hoping to make him look up. He did and shot right into her arms.
"Lucy! I am so happy to see you! Have you seen Mama?"
Shaking her head, she cradled Jack a bit, so very thankful that he was alright. "Jack, while we are here, please call me Tia Lucia? Okay? I need to protect you in case anything happens," she asked of the young boy.
"But Papa Bronte says I can have anything I want!" protested Jack. "Tia? What's that mean?"
"Señor Bronte isn't your Papa. Please, listen when I say this…"
*dot*
It took a bit of investigation but finally Arthur had tracked down where Bronte lived. It was near the manor he was asked to meet John and Dutch at. With intentions to retrieve Jack, they approached the gate. As they walked into the sitting room, their eyes fell upon the woman seated beside Bronte. It was Lucy, wearing a silk night gown, her collar bone striking against the glow of the room, a feminine robe covering her shoulders, and her hair was neatly cascading down her back as she stared the three down. She was acting tough, but how she got exactly beside Bronte, was confusing to him. He felt his heart begin to beat a little faster.
"Why do you take his son?" asked Dutch suddenly at Bronte. Lucy took her gaze from Arthur for only a moment as he scanned the men around them. When Bronte replied in disbelief to the question, Dutch repeated himself. "I said, why did you take his son?" repeated Dutch, pointing at John. "We ain't got no problems with you, sir, nor you with us. But if you wanna start one, there's gonna be a lot of folks dead in this room before it's done."
Bronte turned to Lucy briefly before letting out a huff. "So, you walk into my city, stinking of shit and looking like this and you come into my house, before you have a bath, and you tell me how to act?"
Arthur looked up, wondering how Dutch would get out of this without dying. This Bronte turned to motion beside him as he gripped Lucy's hands, showing the upmost care. Holding them up, he showed them to the others clean fingers and polished nails. Arthur's knuckles whitened as the man touched her and there was a scowl visible on his cheeks.
"Lucia, even knows how one acts and behaves! But you would never listen to a woman, with refine qualities as hers."
"We never meant—" began Dutch taking a glance at Arthur, who frowned deeply as the Italian touched Lucy tenderly. A light pink blush crossed her darkened cheeks. "You see—"
"You ask me to show compassion? Have I not shown you almost infinite compassion already, by simply allowing you in breath in my presence?"
Dutch's eyes got big as he observed the closeness between the two people. "Indeed you have."
He stood a few steps forward toward the chair. "We are simple country folk. All we have is each other and you have gone, and you have took his son, over some dispute with some inbred ex-slavers. It aint got nothing to do with anyone of us."
Bronte snapped up in retort about liquor to which Dutch artfully debunked as a misunderstanding. A few more words were said about the feuding families before Lucy felt the Italian begin to laugh and he lightly tapped her knee.
"Estos hombres son graciosos. ¡Los amo!" he said to Lucy before standing her up, then turning to Dutch to shake his hand. "Angelo Bronte," he finished by introducing himself.
"Dutch van der Linde," replied Dutch, before turning to Arthur and John, introducing them. They all laughed as the group sat back down. Lucy could feel Arthur's eyes running down her. A moment later they were each offered a drink, which they took.
"Señor Bronte, I think I'll retire to bed. I will see you in the morning," Lucy spoke in Spanish before offered her hand to bid goodnight. The man turned before kissing her hand.
"Buenas noches señorita," he said as she gathered the gown up to walk away. Pausing at the door, she addressed him once more. Bronte heavily frowned as his eyes strayed to Arthur.
"Si?" he asked, his eyes traveling from each person. "Señorita?"
"No lastimes al que está en el medio por favor?" she asked kindly, disappearing around the corner.
"Veremos que pasa," he said with a stare aimed at Arthur.
*dot*
"Why do you look at her like that? Like you know her," questioned Bronte. "She is a lady of class, not, how did you say, simple country folk." There was disgust underlying his words.
"Dat's my woman," snapped Arthur in momentarily anger, and once the words left his mouth, he quickly got quiet. John and Dutch eyed him curiously at the admission. It was really not the place to discuss as Arthur quickly realized, but the Italian man smiled widely. Almost too wide.
"Is that so? She never said she was claimed by a man's touch. Not that I asked but, you know, business is business," he smirked taking a puff from his cigar. "No? She will make a lovely wife. A woman like her… golden brown skin, lush long hair; any man would fall to his feet before her. Someone powerful, you know…. Not simple country 'folk' as you said."
Arthur felt his hands clench as Bronte spoke in such confidence about Lucy. John hit him in the leg but at least they knew where she was. Maybe the man would let them both go. Dutch asked again for Jack, while adding in for Lucy, but Bronte seemed unconvinced.
"She is meant for someone. Not me. She is… hermosa… beautiful, I mean. I see why this man would love her…. Besides, if this man says he is her husband, who am I say she isn't already someone else's. Could be lies, I don't know. But you do something for me, we can talk…."
He asked them to deal with some grave robbers and for John and Arthur to see to it. Seeing there was no option to not do so, Arthur prayed that Dutch was working on getting Lucy back too. Upon their return, they approached the gate, and Dutch's voice carried over the court yard.
"Well…. You took your time…" called Dutch, beginning to stand.
"JACK!" called John to his son as the boy ran out to his father. John held Jack tightly as he rubbed his back.
"Where's your host? And Lucy?"
"Like I said, you took your time," replied Dutch, urgency masking his face to leave. "Let's get going."
"What about—" repeated Arthur but Dutch's weary face showed concern.
"You took your time. I couldn't get them both."
Arthur gripped the reins too hard. It sickened him about it all. He had tried to save her himself, but it seemed she was lying too. Dutch's voice barely carried to him as he mentioned something about a garden party. It was odd, but at least she was safe… for now…
*dot*
"Is that man your husband?" asked Bronte suddenly over breakfast the next morning. He was staring at her with those beady little eyes. Lucy could feel her cheek warming at the thought of Arthur's claim on her.
"Well, sorta… that man in the middle… Señor Morgan… He is… well…" she said trying to find the words.
"Why do you lie for such trash that shit in my city?" he replied, taking a bite of his fruit. "You are deserving of a better man, Señorita"
"And who, if I may ask, would be a better man?" she asked highly offended by the pervious statement.
"Oh, you know…" he started, finishing his bite and setting his fork down. "A man of worth; value; money… to take care of a beautiful woman such as yourself. You have refined qualities, Señorita. I mean no offence to your dirty, shit cowboy…"
Lucy was screaming inside at this damn man, gloating before her. HE had the nerve to insult Arthur like that…. Arthur was HER dirty, sultry, overpowering cowboy… AND no one could call him that…
"Well, we all come from different places. Wouldn't you agree that Italy is far from a place like Saint Denis…"
Bronte looked up curiously at her statement. "You are quite the observant one. This place needed a leader. Land of the free, yet no one could give them decisions. I stepped in, because they need to be led. And you wouldn't believe how easy it is to buy people. It's so easy. But you, Señorita, you aren't in that world anymore. You would rather live like a savage than a lady with your country trash. Really, is that the life you desire?"
Lucy looked down ashamed. Bronte was still talking about various things, but nothing was helping her understand his meaning. She knew what it meant accordingly, but what it means to her was different. She never asked for high society, her father hated it as he always told her. Her mother on the other hand was full of herself on the high of it all.
"I can give you so much. A woman like yourself, needs for nothing. You're pretty. Beautiful really."
"Now," he stopped a moment, as she looked up, her cheeks reddened from their conversation. "Do not stall. You need to be fitted for your gown."
Gown?
"What gown? For what?" she asked nearly dropping for glass of milk.
"For the party at the Mayor's house. And you will be my guest…"