The news came: Micah was free and Emily sighed in relief. Not for him, because she still didn't know him, she didn't understand him nor trust him - basically she couldn't care less if he lived or not, even though she would never admit it - but because his rescue meant Dutch had told the truth: no-one would have hanged as long as they all stuck together under his protection.
Still, Micah didn't show his face in camp for five days, the longest and most troubled five days Emily had ever had since she ended up in 1899. Why, you ask? Let's start from the day Arthur left the camp to go to Strawberry.
He woke up early but didn't left before half past nine, drinking his coffee and collecting all the things he needed with a sluggishness that made it very clear he was reluctantly following Dutch's orders. Nevertheless, he had to go, and he went.
Almost at the same moment, Javier came back, with interesting news about a place to rob and a couple of letters in his hand. While he was around, he had checked the post office in Valentine and there he had found something: a letter from an old aunt and one from a young lover.
Miss Grimshaw scoffed when she saw her name written in bad handwriting. What did she want from him? After all those years? Since she had got married she had disappeared and now, after ten years, she was back again to claim possession of what was left of Arthur's tormented heart.
No, Susan Grimshaw couldn't stand that woman, she was no good for him, and as a motherly instinct took her she thought of opening that letter, to know what did she want. But in the end, she shook her head and aimed for Arthur's tent. He was an adult after all, he had to make his own choices, good or bad.
"Morning Miss Grimshaw!" said Emily crossing her on her way.
"Miss Richardson, come here a moment. Bring this letter to Mr. Pearson. His aunt wrote for him again. And tell him she doesn't have to use his name. This is the second time it happens."
"And that one?" asked Emily pointing at the second letter in her hands.
"This one is for Arthur, I'm leaving it under his tent."
Emily wanted to ask more. She wanted to know who might write to him. An old aunt as well? A brother? Maybe that woman in the photograph who Emily thought to be his sister. She didn't inquire further, though, because Miss Grimshaw was a smart woman and she would have seen her curiosity as something suspicious.
Nodding meekly she reached the kitchen and gave the old aunt's letter to Mr. Pearson who blushed slightly in embarrassment as he learned who had sent it.
"W-who picked it up?" he asked in a murmur.
"Erm, I don't know, but Miss Grimshaw says your aunt shouldn't use your name. I have no idea what she was talking about."
"I do. And… I'll tell her" he said in a hurry shaking the letter before putting it inside his pocket.
As soon as she completed her task, Emily's mind focused again on the mysterious letter for Arthur. She wouldn't read it, because it was a privacy violation, but at least she wanted to know who had sent it. Only a casual glance as she passed by, that was enough to satisfy her curiosity.
Emily made sure no-one was around before she stealthily reached his tent. Grabbing it with a swift and quick movement, she thought it was better if she didn't read it seated on the cot where everyone could see her, so she moved behind the wagon, finding shelter from unwanted attention.
The paper was thin but rough, of a strange grayish yellow, while the letters of the recipient and address were written with a heavy twisted handwriting, clearly feminine, but of someone who wasn't used to write. But what made Emily's heart jump was the name of the sender. Mary.
That Mary? The Mary who had left him? The Mary who had made him suffer? What did she want from him? After all that time?
Her hands were faster than her common-sense and before she could realize what she was doing, the same bad handwriting appeared in front of her eyes, filling the entire page. She was back, she was right there in Valentine, and she wanted to meet him. With every word she read, Emily's guts twisted until nothing was left but a tangle of jealousy and despair.
And now, what was she supposed to do? Leave it again under his tent? Let him read it? Let them meet? What if this time she was back for good? What if she wanted to stay with him forever?
Again, her hands were quicker that her mind, and before she realized it, she had already folded the letter again and hidden it inside her shirt. She had to think about her next move. She had a couple of days to think about it, maybe more. Strawberry was far, save Micah was a difficult and long thing. She had time, all the time she needed.

...

Be a bad liar is a terrible thing, especially when you have a secret, when you have done something you shouldn't have done, and you want to hide it, keep it for yourself, not show any sign of nervousness that could betray your mischief.
No, Emily wasn't good at that, and she walked around camp like a plague-spreader during the Middle Ages, attracting inevitably the eyes of someone. Mary-Beth asked her if she was fine, studying her wide eyes as she clutched her arms around her chest like she was hiding something nefarious.
"Uh… uh… I-I'll talk to you later" she mumbled running away.
Miss Grimshaw saw her, as she headed to the other side of camp, and Javier was readying himself for his guarding shift when she ran past him, and Karen had just left her tent when Emily arrived and, with her eyes fixed on the ground, she reached the back of the wagon where she kept her things. They all saw her, but none of them had any idea of what she had done. How could they suspect it? What was the point in stealing someone's correspondence?
"Hey."
Emily startled and squeaked turning around to face Bill.
"H-hey" she said with terror running through her.
"You alright? You're a little jumpy."
"Jumpy? No!"
Her voice had reached a whole new level of acuity. From that moment on only dogs could hear her, and Bill screwed his face in pain as that sound reached his ears.
"I wanted to ask if you still want me to teach you how to shoot."
"Yeah! Yes, of course I want it. I was just… erm, changing my clothes" she said as the idea came to her mind. "I'll put my jeans on, so to be more comfortable."
"Okay, I wait for you, then" said Bill and he walked away with his usual swing, leaving Emily breathless.
Yes, her clothes. Hiding the letter in her clothes was the best she could think about. She would put it where no-one would watch: in her hoodie. Who would touch her hoodie?
She slipped the paper from under her shirt and hid it, feeling immediately better, as if the disposing of the evidence could erase her guilt. Then, she wore her jeans and reached Bill with a lighter heart. She still had plenty of time to think about that, for now it was time to shoot.

...

Bill had never asked for much in his life, all he wanted was be respected, feel good about himself, and be important for someone, be useful. Emily had given him exactly what he wanted.
As they rode one next to the other, and he dispensed his knowledge and tips about guns and fighting, he felt important, he was the hero of the situation, the teacher, the mentor. That was the best day he had had for a couple of months until then.
He leaded her far away from Valentine, where they couldn't be heard, where they hadn't raised suspicions. He found a perfect spot, with an old ruined wooden bridge on a dried creek. He took out the five empty bottles he had brought with him, loaded on Brown Jack, and positioned them on top of the bridge, right at chest height, perfect for her to aim easily.
"What if someone crosses that bridge? I could hit them" said Emily with a shade of worry on her face.
"Ah! Something heavier than them bottles walks on that thing, it crushes down in a million pieces" laughed Bill.
He walked by her side and the both of them stared at the five dark brown and green bottles, Emily waiting for indication, Bill waiting for her to start shooting, like she could have a clue where to start.
"So? What you waiting for?" he growled.
"W-what should I do?"
"Take your gun for a start."
Emily struggled with the holster for a while before being able to take out her new and untouched revolver, holding it with two fingers up in the air in front of her.
"Alright, lesson number one. Hold the gun with all your hand. Strong grip, not like a dead cat."
After the holding, Bill started immediately with the practice, telling her to hit the bottles, but there were a thousand things he didn't tell her: the right way to aim, the position of her feet, the position of her hands, the fact that she had to gently squeeze the trigger and not pull it back with violence, otherwise she would lose her aim.
As they came back, Emily asked herself why the hell she had asked Bill. He was surely the best fighter, but turned out to be the worst teacher. She hadn't hit one single bottle, she had a terrible pain on her hand and wrist, and she was feeling down.
Bill noticed it and he felt the need to say something to cheer her up, but what could Bill possibly say?
"You can't learn in a day. It takes years of practice to be good. And in your case, I wouldn't have many expectations."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you're a woman. It is known you can't shoot as good as a man."
"Excuse me?"
Bill looked at her and was taken aback in seeing she was offended.
"What? Is the truth, ain't it? I mean, I won't lie to you, you don't have technique."
"You were supposed to teach me!"
"I don't know how to teach you the technique!"
"Then what the heck are we doing here!?"
Emily's voice hadn't finished echoing in the valley that two men came out of nowhere, pointing their rifles at them. The third one surprised them at their backs so that both she and Bill could do nothing but stick their hands up in the air.
How those men had found them and followed them without being noticed, it was a mystery, but one thing was sure: Emily would remember those faces for the rest of her life.

...

The problem was: in 1899 there were no cell-phones, non SMS, no way to check where a person was. Time passed differently, very fast when on a horse, very slow when there was nothing to do. And in a camp with twenty people, you aren't immediately aware that one is missing, one who wouldn't disappear like that.
When darkness fell, and Emily didn't show up to go to bed, Mary-Beth thought it was really strange. And the next morning, when she couldn't find her anywhere and she saw her horse was gone too, she started to worry. She knew there was only one person she could report, only one who would have acted immediately, so she went looking for Hosea.
"Hosea, I can't find Emily anywhere. She left yesterday with Bill and she never came back."
He hand't noticed that either, but he realized it as soon as Mary-Beth told him. The girl's absence was indeed really strange and standing from his chair he began asking around why Emily would go out with Bill and not come back before sunset. Charles gave him the answer he was looking for: she was out to learn how to use a gun. That surely couldn't take the entire afternoon and also the night, right? So they had to be someplace else, maybe in some kind of trouble, knowing Bill…
"Please, Charles, take Javier and go check on them. See if they are camped in the surroundings."

...

Emily's eyes flickered at the sunshine when she opened them, both her arms and shoulders aching for the position she had fallen asleep. Now she was starting to understand Kieran and his pain for all the time he had spent tied to that tree in camp, because she was exactly in the same position: her wrists, trapped by a thick rough rope that had scratched her skin, so that now it was all red and sore, was keeping her arms behind her back, and to sleep that night she had let her head hanging down on her chest. Nothing more uncomfortable.
Her mouth was dry and her throat was scraped by the screams of the night before, when those men had taken her and Bill, bringing them to their camp. Bounty hunters, that's what they were, looking for someone with a big sum of money on their head, and they had been lucky enough to find one of Dutch's boys
But Emily… she was a no-one, they weren't interested in her, but they couldn't let her go either, or she might have called for help. So, they decided to keep her with them. A sweet time-killer for the journey to Blackwater, for when they would get bored, that's what they said.
She knew what that meant and at the beginning she tried to free herself, she fought, she screamed, she bit… Then, as the night approached, desperation took her and she started to cry, dreading for the moment when those men would have got bored, not knowing that nothing would have happened to her that night, because the hunters were too busy with torturing Bill.
Emily was sorry for him, but after all, he was used to it, big and tough and definitely more capable than her in enduring all that situation, while she had already had a mental breakdown and without even be touched.
"Rise and shine, princess!"
The man who had talked was the one with the black beard. They were only three. One with a beard so thick and black that his mouth was completely hidden, while his nose pointy and thin, perched on that dark-blueish bush looked like the beak of a crow popping out.
The second had a light brown skin, a mustache and goatee like a musketeer and his eyes where amber color. You could think he was rather handsome, and that was what Emily thought too when she saw his profile. But then he turned around and she realized he was cross-eyed and he had a big deep scar that cut his upper lip right in the middle. Now that Emily thought about it, he looked a lot like the jester in The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, just more creepy.
The last one was almost bald and that little hair he had was salt and pepper. The most interesting thing about him was his huge hump-backed nose that looked like if a potato had been placed right in the middle of his face.
Yes, Emily had all the time she needed to study them. Three days lasted her captivity, because after Charles and Javier went back to Hosea, telling him there was no trace of them anywhere near camp, he went speaking with Dutch, who answered coldly to the news.
He advised calmness. They had no certainty they were in danger, and they would have only drawn unnecessary attention if they had gone around asking questions about Bill and the girl. But Hosea's fatherly instinct was telling him otherwise, so he sent Javier out again. Tracks, people they had met, people they had talked to, there must have been something, a clue, a lead they could follow to find out where they were.
Eventually, Javier met a man, a hunter, who sweared he had seen them on the southern side of Diablo Ridge, and that they weren't alone. In fact, he had seen something really odd. He was following a hare, when some screams caught his attention. A man's voice. He followed them and he saw a camp, with five people in it: four man and a woman, two captives and three captors.
"How did they look like? The three men? Where they lawmen?"
"No. No, they had cowboy hats and fringed pants."
Bounty hunters. And they were south of Diablo Ridge, which meant they were taking Bill to Blackwater.
Javier wasted no time. He jumped on Boaz and he ran as fast as he could. He had to be one hundred percent sure that was them before acting. Luckily for him, he ran into Arthur coming back after he rescued Micah, who despite the wariness of the journey, as he knew they had taken Emily too, immediately agreed on riding together.
But all this took two days and a half, and for now let's go back to Emily's second night as a bounty hunter's prisoner.

...

The second night was the night the bounty hunters finally got bored of torturing Bill. They put him aside, exchanged a few whispers between them and then the creepy musketeer walked in her direction.
Deep terror flowed in Emily's veins while her skin got covered in goosebumps. That was it, that was the end. She knew what they would do to her, she knew the pain they would inflict, both physical and psychological.
Slow and silent tears fell down her cheeks as the man untied her. She knew that from that moment she would't have felt the same, that her life wouldn't have been the same, forever.
As the man pulled her up and made her stand, she tried to break free, to run, but what an empty gesture. The musketeer took her by her shoulders and looking right at her he ordered not to try that again, or the consequences would have been bad. He brought her in front of the others, who studied her face lined by the tears carefully before talking.
"You think she can manage that?" asked Black Beard with a serious expression.
"Hmm" answered the potato nose, he truly wasn't the talkative tipe, and giving his back to them all, he reached a big saddle sack on the ground from where he took a little wooden box.
What was that? Some kind of torture devise? Where they talking about the most efficient way to hurt her? What were they? Some psychos who enjoyed torturing poor harmless girls?
The tears stopped. Now there was only fear, a fear Emily had never proved. The bald mute man walked in her direction, carrying the box in display, as it were the relic of a saint, and he stopped right in front of her, so that Emily could perfectly see the grain of the wood.
What a sicko game was that? Show her the devise of her pain! Who were those people? Why were they doing that?
The man finally lifter the upper part of the box and what Emily saw made her mouth open of a few inches in surprise. She started stammering as her eyes moved from the box to the man with the potato nose and then to Black Beard.
"Is… i-is this what you want?" she asked.
"You think you can do it?" asked Black Beard.
"Well I… I can try."
"Alright. Now I let you go, but don't run! And don't scream! Or things will turn bad very easily" said the musketeer letting her go.
Emily didn't move, she didn't scream and she didn't run. There was no need, if that was what they wanted from her, she could do it.
"Come on, take it" ordered Black Beard and Emily put an hand inside the little box and took the deck of cards.
"Do you know the rules?" asked again the man as his silent friend closed the box and took a step backwards.
"N-not really" replied Emily.
"Well, you'll learn playing."
"What? What does this mean?" exclaimed a growling voice and everybody turned in its direction.
Emily had totally forgot about Bill. He was there tied and still bleeding from the torture, his face was a mask of shock.
"Me, you torture, while with her you play a poker game?" he asked.
"Hey! She's a lady! We wouldn't touch a hair on her head. We just want to have fun with her."
Emily couldn't restrain a smile, a smile that was more a sigh of relief. Have fun with her. Now she was understanding.
She won only one game in that long night, and completely out of fortune, because she happened to have a Full. They tied her back to her tree at half past four, so that she slept only for a few hours, but she slept so peacefully and deeply that it felt like ages to her and the next morning they had to forcefully wake her up to make her eat something.

...

Arthur thought he would find a girl completely ragged, desperate and in distress. Instead, he found her smiling and relaxed, while Bill was the messed one. How had that girl managed to convince those bounty hunters not to hurt her, it was a mystery. What had she bargained for her safety? What had she promised to them?
"Alright, let's go. I think the best we can do is face them directly" whispered Javier next to him standing up.
Arthur followed him and as he walked out of the bushes and revealed his figure in all its height, Emily looked at him with a pair of huge surprised eyes, just like his presence there was completely uncalled for.
"Arthur!" she exclaimed and her lips opened in a smile revealing her teeth.
"Hey! What do you…" started a man with a black beard standing up and his friends did the same. "You're another of Dutch's boys, aren't you?" he said squinting his eyes in Arthur's direction.
"I'm here to take my friends. So you better step back and let them go" answered Arthur menacingly.
"No, Arthur, don't hurt them. They are nice" said Emily.
Arthur frowned when he looked at her. They were nice? Those sons of bitches bounty hunters who had tortured Bill? Had she turned crazy or something?
"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.
"Please, please, guys, let us go, I don't want anything bad to happen" she kept saying and this time she addressed the bounty hunters directly.
"We can't, Miss. Your friend here will make us get a lot of dough, we can't let this opportunity slip."
"What the…" Arthur whispered to himself.
"Alright, Arthur, let's get done with it" said Javier and out of nowhere he took out his gun pointing it to the crossed-eyed man.
"No, Javier, please!" Emily squealed at the sight of the pistol. "Okay, listen, we're all in the same boat here, right? We are criminals, that's true, but… think for a moment. Manfred, Jeremiah, Duke, what would you do if you were the captured ones? Wouldn't you try to find a way to get your freedom back? I reckon we can find an agreement. Please…"
Everybody was looking at her. She knew the names of the bounty hunters! She knew their fucking names and she spoke to them like they were old friends! And that wasn't even the most shocking thing, because after some seconds of pondering, the man with the black beard talked.
"Alright, Miss, I trust you. What kind of agreement?"
Arthur and Javier exchanged a puzzled look. How the hell was that possible?
"Well, I, erm, you say all you want is the money from the bounty, and we, erm, we want to go home, so… Arthur?"
Arthur gave her the same look he had given to Javier: stunned. He had no idea of what to say or do, his mind was a white piece of paper.
"You want me to give them money?" he asked in a moment of clearness.
"Just a compensation, for Bill's freedom."
"We want one hundred dollars!" shouted the one with the creepy smile.
"Idiot! We can ask much more than that!" said Black Beard hitting his friend's head with his hand.
"What's more than one hundred dollars?" he asked back.
And it was at that moment that the third man, the one with the potato nose, stepped ahead and raised his hand showing his five fingers all wide open.
"Yeah, you're right, Duke. We want five hundred dollars!" shouted the crossed-eyed.
"WHAT? I'm not gonna give you five hundred dollars, I don't have five hundred dollars" said Arthur.
"And how much do you have?" asked Black Beard.
"If Javier tips in I think we can get to…"
The two men exchanged a look and then Javier said: "two hundred" with a shrug.
"Alright, we take it!"

...

"I can't believe it. I just… I can't believe I paid those assholes two hundred dollars. How… why…"
"You paid them so we could get away with our lives" said Emily matter-of-factly.
"No, I paid them because you wanted them to get out with their lives, and I can't understand why!" replied Arthur and from his voice she could tell he was starting to lose his patience.
"They didn't deserve to die."
"They didn't… they tortured Bill!"
"Yes, but they treated me fairly!"
"Oh now it's about you, isn't it? You are impossible."
"I am the impossible one?! You just…"
"You two, stop it!" exclaimed Javier calling for their attention. "The faster we get back the better, I think Bill is about to pass out."
"I am not!" yelled Bill outraged by Javier's statement, but he truly didn't look too well.
They hurried back to camp as fast as they could. Arthur and Emily kept teasing each other during the way, but when finally back, they all helped Bill dismount Brown Jack and lay down under his tent.
Hosea came running. He asked Emily if she was okay, he checked if she was wounded, insisted that he wanted to know the truth when she said the bounty hunters hadn't touched her, thinking that maybe she was laying.
Emily was touched by him and his words. For how much she tried, she couldn't remember someone who had ever worried and cared that much about her. Not even her parents. And Arthur and Javier had come right away to rescue her and Bill. And Charles had helped in the searching. And Mary-Beth had immediately noticed she was gone for far too much.
Those people were incredible. They were truly treating her like family, and Emily felt lucky. She had found them, among all the people she could find, dangerous people, mean people, she had the world's kindest criminals.
"Hosea, it's okay, I am fine. See? They didn't touch me."
"Alright, but you won't ever go out again with Bill" he said severely.
"B-but he has to teach…"
"You'll find someone else. Someone more low-profile, go around with him is far too dangerous for you."
Yeah, right. Hosea had no idea Emily had already asked almost everyone, but they couldn't or wouldn't help her. Anyway, that was a question for another time. Right now, her mind was all occupied by a single thought: she needed a bath. After three days captured, three days in the dirt, touched by those dirty bounty hunters, sleeping against the trees, she felt the need to wash.
Now, since she had learned how to ride, and since she had her own horse, Emily had also taken the decision to go to town by herself when she needed to, or at least in the company of one of the girls, challenging that stupid rule that forbid them to take a horse or a wagon.
She thought of asking to Mary-Beth or Tilly, but after the rejoice for her return they had to go back to work with Miss Grimshaw, who, thanks to a moment of pure kindness had granted Emily the rest of the day to go wash and wear clean clothes. So, she had to find someone else. Who?
Abigail didn't want to leave camp, because that meant she had to bring Jack with them and it wouldn't be safe nor easy. Molly? She had no intention to go to Valentine. But Emily had another one she could ask: Sadie. And Sadie agreed.
They both rode on Drover, Sadie leading, and in that occasion she even found the chance to tell Emily that Drover once belonged to her.
"What?" exclaimed Emily as Sadie helped her on the saddle.
"He was one of our horses at the ranch" Sadie repeated.
"But it was Arthur's horse. He gave him to me."
"But he took it from my stable."
Emily felt awful, even though Sadie didn't sound angry, just sad and tired as always.
"So, what's his real name?" she asked.
"Drover is more than fine, you can keep it" giggled Sadie
"So, you're not angry Arthur stole your horse?"
"Nah, and he probably saved him."
Emily kept asking about her former life, her ranch, her animals, but always being careful not to mention her husband. There was no need, Sadie remembered him with every word she pronounced: he lived in the crops, in the animals, in the walls of her house. Every memory she had of that place was linked to him and their life together.
More than once she had to keep the tears at bay, finding inside her the strength to keep going, to keep talking, and to keep pretending.
"So, you can't cook either. Good, at least I know I'm not the only one" said Emily.
"We are all different, we all have our skills and our flaws. My Jackie knew it when he married me. He accepted the fact that I was different, and we worked together, on the fields, with the cattle, hunting…"
"Can you hunt?"
"Yeah, and he taught me how to fight."
"You mean you can use a gun?"
"Ah-ah."
That was it! For all that time, Emily had thought she needed a male teacher to learn how to shoot, when the solution to her problem had waited for her in camp since the beginning. Why hadn't she thought about one of the women? Well, for a start, she didn't think they were able to use one of those devilish tools. Why would they? They didn't have to fight, rob or hunt.
They were always in camp, busy with the chores, and the only kind of job they could do was steal to some idiot at the saloon, like they used to. But maybe, maybe if they learned it could be different, they might be more independent, take their own decisions, pick their own heists, create a gang made only of women!
Emily's mind returned to the present to ask Sadie the fateful question, and Sadie said yes, without hesitation. It was destiny.

...

The morning after, Hosea woke up suddenly and with a terrible pain in his back. He was too old for all that: to sleep on the ground, to live on the run, to be wary even of the ants, those disgusting thieves, that would steal that little food in his plate. Yep, he was definitely too old.
But if there was something that made him feel young, it was crime. Many say crime doesn't pay, but Hosea knew it was a lie, under many aspects: first, the right heists could bring in a lot of money; second, the personal satisfaction for a job well done is something incomparable; and last but not least, the rush, the adrenaline, that comes before a theft it was one of the things that made him feel still young and reckless.
Cheered by the thought, he stood up too quickly and a dull crack in his knee made him frown and moan. Yes, his spirit was still young.
He stumbled to the pot and took some coffee before sitting down at the table and wake his mind with a couple of pages of his favorite book. A few moments passed before Emily took the chair by his side. She had taken something sweet as usual, some strawberries and biscuits, or peaches and chocolate, it depended on the day, but it didn't matter how many sweet things that girl ate, she was always as thin as a birch.
"Morning Hosea."
"Morning, Miss Emily."
"Ohh can you please stop calling me Miss? We don't need this formality."
"As you wish."
They exchanged a smile. Hosea had never had children. The only kids he had helped growing up were Arthur and John, and he always thought that would be his first and last experience as a father. But then more came, more people who needed his help, his advice, his paternal figure: Abigail, Lenny, Tilly, Mary-Beth, the Callanders. And Emily, the last of them all.
"So, what plans do you have for today?" he asked sipping from his cup.
"Sadie wants to take me practice."
"Oh, so you've found another teacher."
"Yes, she says the sooner we begin the better. I probably need a lot of work."
Hosea smiled at her confession. Yes, Emily had proved in those weeks that she wasn't the fastest person when it came to learning, but she had a quick mind with a lot of fresh ideas, and with those ideas she had helped in a couple of robberies. She had potential. Maybe if she tried something more, she could become a worthy apprentice.
"Well, I was hoping you wanted to learn something else today" he proposed.
"Like what?" she asked curious.
Hosea cleared his throat and bended over the table, closer to her.
"What do you know about Emerald Ranch?"

...

They left camp right after breakfast and Hosea also left a message for Arthur to Miss Grimshaw: go to Emerald Ranch as soon as he could.
The plan was simple, he had thought of everything: Emily's silver tongue and candid attitude should have done all the work. No-one could resist her, even less a ranch man whose wife had died two years before.
Hosea explained her what she had to do. Old Seamus just needed a little push to start liking them, maybe a proof of their skills, and he would have agreed to get into business with them.
"What kind of business?" she asked as they rode.
"Buying and selling. We bring the supplies, he finds the market."
"Oh… he's a fence."
It wasn't a question. Hosea smiled at her perspicacity. She surely had potential.
"If you don't want to do this anymore, I'd understand" he said.
"No, no, no. Of course I want to help. We are criminals after all, aren't we? We have to do… criminal things."
Hosea smiled again at that simple statement. He believed she had a rather pure idea of criminality, but in truth she knew that sell stolen stuff was one of the most innocent things they did and that they still hadn't shown her what they were truly capable of.
Emily still remembered her last visit to Emerald Ranch and how everybody there seemed unfriendly. This time it wasn't different: as soon as Mr. Seamus saw them approaching he changed attitude, he became suspicious, cautious, he found a corner where he could talk under his breath and there he told the story, or better to say half the story, of the ranch.
And so Emily found out why everybody acted so strangely in that place. Apparently, the owner of the place, Mr. Wagner, had a daughter, the woman Emily had thought to be a ghost the first time she had been there, and he was extremely jealous. For this reason he had closed the saloon and general shop, because it attracted too many strangers who inevitably dropped the eye on the beautiful Lady. But that wasn't enough for the man, who had secluded the woman inside the house, so that even the stable hands couldn't see nor talk to her.
The story was truly starting to catch her, when Hosea abruptly changed topic. It was time to talk about business and it was right at that moment that Arthur finally made it's appearance.
Emily had managed to charm Mr. Seamus somehow, without truly do anything, just with her presence - it seemed she inspired trust in other people - and he seemed more than inclined to start that collaboration. But Arthur…
As soon as he arrived Hosea immediately understood he was in a bad mood and he didn't want to waste time and patience with idiots. He ruined everything in five minutes, and now Seamus didn't sound so sure anymore.
"Come on, Seamus. Let us prove ourselves" he tried to convince the man.
"Prove ourselves? To this fool? What are you talking about?" said Arthur sarcastic.
Somehow Hosea managed to save the situation, but now they truly had to do something to convince Seamus: they had to rob his cousin - by marriage.
Emily suddenly became silent: deal with a fence and steal in his cousin's house were two different things completely and she didn't know if she wanted to do that anymore.
"Do you really want us to rob your cousin?" she asked frowning with insecurity.
"By marriage, and yes, I'd love that."
"But… I don't understand, he's done something bad?"
"Oh, he isn't a saint for sure."
Only Seamus' last statement could convince Emily in doing it. That robbery was very similar to the one with the doctor in Valentine: if the people she was robbing were thieves too, was her theft a sin after all?
They finally agreed, Seamus gave them the indications and the three of them mounted on their horses to reach the cousin's property.
"You couldn't play that one better, couldn't you?" asked Hosea to a scowling Arthur.
"I wasn't in the mood for your little games" he replied dryly.
Emily looked at his back as he rode a few steps ahead of her. What was wrong with him? Why this cold and angry attitude that morning?
"Is everything alright, Arthur? It isn't of you to talk like that" said Hosea with concern. He knew Arthur's behavior was strange too.
"Better get done with this first. We'll talk later" he cut short.
The cousin's house wasn't far from Emerald Ranch, but for all the time it took them to reach it Emily couldn't not think about the reason for Arthur's bad mood. Maybe a quarrel with someone in camp? Bill, or Uncle, or Dutch. She was curious, so curious that she couldn't wait for that robbery to end so that she might have asked him.
They dismounted the horses and found a good spot from where they could give a look at the place. The cousin and his son lived alone. They were working out in the garden when they arrived, so that Hosea thought it was better if they waited for nightfall and for the two men to go to bed.
"No, I want to do it now" said Arthur. His low angry growling voice was starting to scare Emily. Whatever had happened, it must have been something serious.
"So how we doing?" she asked.
"Alright, I put on my show, draw them out, and Arthur, you get in and take what you can find. The stagecoach should be in the barn. We meet in there when you're done" directed Hosea.
"What about me?" asked Emily. She was there to help, she wanted to help, prove them what she could do.
"You stay here" said Arthur without kindness in his voice.
Emily looked at Hosea, begging him with the eyes.
"I think what Arthur means is… we must be quick and silent, and we have the experience to do such things…"
"But I want to help. I'll be quick and silent too. I'll follow Arthur's every step. I won't be in the way. Please, please!"
"Alright, alright. Arthur?"
"Ahh fine" replied Arthur with a wave of his hand. He surely didn't want to waste time arguing with her.
They moved closer. Hosea headed to the front door calling for the man and his son's attention, while Arthur, followed by Emily, entered the house from the backdoor. There was a thrill tickling Emily's spine, she was doing it again, she was committing a crime, doing something she wasn't supposed to do. It was happening more frequently than she liked to admit and every time the fearful and guilty feelings were weaker, while the excitement was stronger.
"Okay, I check this floor, you go upstairs. Be quick, Hosea won't keep them forever" said Arthur.
"Okay, what should I look for?" she asked.
"What… uhh, money, valuables, anything we can sell, that's what you must look for."
No, that wasn't Arthur's day, he was nervous and exasperating, so Emily silently obeyed, climbing the stairs swiftly and getting in the main bedroom. Those people surely didn't have a luxurious life: the rooms were simple and the furniture was barely necessary for a decent life. But Emily didn't care much. She was too focused with opening the wardrobe, the crate and the bedside table drawers to care about the state of living of the cousin and his son.
The wardrobe had only clothes and a bottle of whiskey hidden among them. Inside the crate she found an old pocket watch and a pack of cigarettes. But it was inside the drawer of the bedside table that she found something interesting, something that made her stop dead and think about what she was actually doing: a golden ring, a pearl necklace and a letter. A love letter, from the cousin ex wife.

Robert,

I asked Lily to write this (you know I can't write) and I hope this letter finds you and the boy well.
When we got married, eight months ago, I believed I could deal with this kind of life: the house, the boy, you. But the truth is: I can't.
I can't because I don't love you and I have no intention to make a life of sacrifices for someone I don't love and respect. And the boy, good Lord, I can't suffer that creature. He looks too much like you.
So I left you both, a little out of the blue, I know, but I couldn't stand that look on your face when I had told you I was leaving.
I am leaving my wedding ring behind and the pearls your mother gave me. I don't want them, any of them. Sell them if you want, or find yourself some other wench willing to live with your sorry ass.

Nevermore yours,
Greta

The letter was dated twelve years before. The jewels belong to her. The cousin didn't sell them. He didn't get married again either. He probably was still in love with that horrible woman who had written that letter and the pearls and the ring were the only thing that still reminded him of her.
No, Emily couldn't take them. It was true, Seamus had told her his cousin by marriage wasn't a good man, but still, she couldn't do that to him. Steal the only memory he had left of the woman he loved.
"Found anything?" asked Arthur as she reached the ground floor.
She just shook her head and the two of them exited again from the backdoor. From behind the house they got to the barn and once inside they waited for Hosea to come.
"So?" he simply asked.
"Found the money your friend talked about, but nothing more."
"Alright, Emily you can travel in the diligence. Arthur, you take the reins. Let's get out of here."
She did as she was asked and as soon as she opened the door, the inside of the carriage left her speechless: again, it wasn't anything fancy, but Emily had never been inside a stagecoach, even less she had travelled inside one. It was new and exiting, but unfortunately it wasn't going to be a pleasant experience after all.
She took her place on the soft dark brown leather seats and Hosea closed the door. She felt the two men's weight on both sides of the carriage and then the horses started walking.
Looking around inside the passenger compartment, she admired the fabric of the curtains, the color of the wood, she smelled the leather cushions, and finally she also noticed a little window right behind her head that opened under Hosea and Arthur's seat. She opened it, making some fresh air come inside the cabin and also, to her great surprise, the voices of the two men behind her back, which she couldn't hear until a few moments before.
"It went well, all things considered" said Hosea.
"Yes."
"Do you want to tell me what's wrong? Why this sour today?"
"I prefer not to talk about it now."
"Come on, Arthur. It's just you and me."
"And the girl."
Emily frowned. Since when she was "the girl". She thought they were starting to get along.
"You don't trust her?" asked Hosea.
"I don't trust anyone right now."
"What about me?"
Arthur made a pause. Maybe the two of them were exchanging a look.
"I always trust you, Hosea."
"Well then, trust me when I tell you she won't hear a thing from inside the coach."
Emily realized every inch of her body was aching. She was suddenly stiff, her muscles all tensed, her ears wide open hoping to hear more.
That was eavesdropping! She was listening to a private conversation! The right thing to do would be close the little window and let them talk, but she had absolutely no intention to to that, in spite of the guilt bite she was feeling at the base of her stomach.
"This morning, after I woke up, Susan came to tell me you were waiting for me in Emerald Ranch" Arthur began. "Right after that she asked me what did Mary want with that letter of hers."
"Mary? Mary sent you a letter?" asked Hosea.
"That's exactly what I asked her and she said that a few days ago Javier came back from Valentine with a letter from Mary and that she had left it under my tent. The thing is: I looked everywhere, but there is no trace of this fucking letter."
Silence. Emily had a black hole in place of her chest, her guts were so twisted she thought she wouldn't be able to eat ever again, her legs were made of jelly and she thanked the fact that she was inside the carriage, on her own, so that they couldn't see her face, because she would have betrayed herself immediately.
She had completely forgot, about that day, about the letter, about Mary and about the reaction Arthur would have had if he knew she had taken it. Now she had to think about how she wanted to untangle the situation. Did she want to give him the letter? Destroy all the evidence of its existence and carry the secret in the grave with her? Put the letter back to its place and pretend nothing had happened? She had to think about it, and quick, because the moment had come. No more delay, no more thinking.
"So, someone is stealing your correspondence?" asked Hosea.
"But why? What does he care about a letter from Mary?"
"He? You think it's a him?"
"He, she, what does it matter? All I now is that I'll kill them when I find out who it is."
Emily's stomach twisted and ached.
"Maybe no-one took it. Maybe it just got lost. The other day was particularly windy."
"I hope it. For him. Or her."
"And you think it could be her?"
Silence again. Emily knew Hosea was pointing his finger at her inside the carriage. She felt it.
"I don't know. She doesn't seem the type. And then why should she do that?"
"I don't know. Maybe she fancies you" laughed Hosea.
Again, Emily felt the need to find the deepest hole in the ground and bury herself inside it. They had a suspicion. She had to play well her role or Arthur would have figured it out.
"Here we are. Look, Seamus is opening the barn, get us inside" said Hosea and Emily knew she had run out of time. She recovered fast. She adjusted her blouse, straightened her hair, she put on a face of half indifference and half satisfaction for a successful job. Then, she opened the door and jumped down from the carriage.
"Well, nice work Hosea" said Seamus counting some money in his hands.
"Oh it was mostly Arthur, and my new apprentice here. Give her time she'll become a fine helping hand" smiled Hosea putting a fatherly hand on her shoulder. Emily gave him the best smile she could fake.
Hosea and Seamus said each other goodbye with all the formalities of the case and finally shook hands, sealing the business contract.
"Alright, I'm riding back to camp. You come, Emily?" asked Hosea.
"Yes, sure."
"Arthur?"
Emily gave him a quick glance. His face was still gloomy and his brow furrowed.
"Uh… yeah, I think… I want to check that thing again" he said with a meaningful look towards Hosea who nodded understandingly.
Emily pretended not to hear. It was none of her business after all, wasn't it?

Hello hello!

How are you? I'm fine. Yesterday I decorated the house and the Christmas Tree. We are officially in the Holiday season!
So, I have finally managed to finish this chapter. It's been a long and exhausting one to write but I am so proud of it! And I hope you liked it too. The part when Emily listens to the conversation between Arthur and Hosea is my favorite.

"Your friend will make us get a lot of dough." Is this sentence right? I found it on internet searching for an alternative to say "a lot of money". Isn't dough the raw thing of the cookies? I don't know, I hope I didn't write something stupid.

Anyway, I'll start immediately to think about what to write in the next one. And again, I don't think it will come out on Sunday, but as soon as I can.

If you don't hear from me before the 24th, have a good Christmas!