You say I have turned,
Like the enemies you've earned,
But I can remember all the good things you are,
And so I ask you please,
Can I help you find the peace and the star?
Oh, my friend,
What time is this,
To trade the handshake for the fist?
- A Perfect Circle
"Those goddamned bastards."
Arthur had been repeating this under his breath for a little while now as he, Rane and Sadie rode toward Rhodes. Sadie looked over at him at last.
"You sure are doin' a lotta mutterin' over there," she remarked.
"Ah, hell." Arthur passed a hand over his face. "Now he don't care if he orphans his friend's child so long as he gets rich? All his goddamned talk all them years. Seems like it was always a lie. Or he went crazy." He sighed, shaking his head. "What a mess."
"He thinks he's God," Sadie said grimly. "Or I guess he wants to believe he's God, or somethin'. He seems just as damn crazy to everybody else."
"Not to Micah," Rane remarked, low.
"Well, Micah don't count," Sadie concurred, shrugging. "Forget Micah." She paused, then added, "fuck Micah, matter of fact. Slippery son of a bitch."
Arthur shrugged, pulling his hat off for a moment and running his fingers through his hair. In the low sunlight he was extraordinarily handsome, bone-thin or not. "Hell. I'm sorry both you ladies got dragged into this. Into . . . well, us."
"Listen, if you hadn't shown up at my house that night I'd be dead," said Sadie, meeting his eyes from horseback at his side, her gaze hard and unforgiving. "Even this bullshit beats dead, Arthur."
"Yeah, I'm with her," Rane agreed. "It would have been fuckdoll and then target practice for me if you hadn't happened along. Not to be gross."
"Any fool woulda done the same, that don't mean nothin'."
"Oh, bullshit." Rane watched Arthur closely. "Don't sell yourself short, babydoll. I may have come into this blind but I stuck around with eyes wide open."
"Same." Sadie looked over at Arthur, unsmiling. "You like to act like you don't care about nothin', Arthur, but I think some of us know better than all that."
"Well." Arthur passed a hand over his face, sighing. "Either way, we gotta get Abigail out for Jack. And I know John woulda wanted it too. I wanted to try and get them two outta this. Seems I left it too late."
"Well. It ain't too late yet." Sadie's eyes were on the trail before them, her brows a little knitted beneath the rim of her hat. "Shit, I can't hardly believe they got John. Can't imagine how Jackie must be feelin'."
"This one over here don't think he's really dead," said Arthur, jerking his head at Rane. Sadie glanced at her, surprised.
"You don't? Hell, you saw him get shot, didn't ya?"
Rane shrugged. "Sure, I saw him get shot. I saw him get shot in that Pinkerton camp, too, and he made it through that. Shit, I got shot at Shady Belle. I'm still sitting here on Eli talking to you, aren't I?"
Sadie scoffed. "Rane, that ain't the same thing and you know it. You got a way to mend it, John don't."
"Yeah, well all I'm saying is I haven't seen his body," said Rane steadily. Eli trotted amiably beneath her, his long black tail flicking idly, twitching his ears against the light rain. "Dutch didn't come riding back home with his body slung over his horse, did he? That doesn't strike either of you as kinda weird?"
"He wouldn't have done that with Kieran or Sean, either," Arthur put in.
"Yeah, but this is John Marston ," said Rane, looking at him. "Bill told me John's like his golden boy. I feel like Dutch would have brought him back and given him a proper burial, regardless of how fucked in the head he is."
"We don't know what he'd do anymore, and he don't either, like as not," said Sadie reproachfully. "Me, now, I wouldn't be surprised none if he just left John where he landed because he couldn't be fucked to bother with it."
Arthur sucked his teeth, looking unhappy. "I guess I just don't like to think Dutch would do somethin' like that."
"Yeah, sure, Dutch is as pure as the driven snow," said Rane dryly. "I'm not trying to get into the nuances of that crazy bastard's thought processes, I'm just saying . . . I'm not going to give him up for dead until I know for sure one way or another."
"So what, you wanna go see if he's there? Alongside the tracks?" Sadie looked skeptical.
"No, I don't." Rane shrugged. "I don't think Dutch found him in the first place, one way or another. I bet he didn't even look. Dude had dollar signs in his eyes from the start."
Arthur grunted, clearly not enjoying this turn of conversation. "Let's just get Abigail. We can fucker the rest out later."
THE three of them arrived in Rhodes some half hour later. The rain was falling steadily now, not hard but gentle and cool, shored up by the brisk wind. The town lay before them, low and small in its little nestled spot next to the water. It looked very impotent indeed to Rane, with its low-slung buildings and the low stink of exhaust and ozone and capitalism hanging in the humid air. The faint sound of calliope music could be heard from someplace, perhaps the saloon.
"Okay, here we are," said Sadie, drawing back on her reins. "Let's ditch the horses and come up with a plan."
"Glenn'bo," Rane murmured, and slapped Eli's hindquarters briskly. Eli snorted, his ears pinning, and then turning cantered off, his long mane blowing back in the breeze. Rane turned back to Arthur and Sadie, her nose wrinkled. "This place smells the way a hangover feels."
"This one over here, let me tell ya." Arthur was looking toward the town as well, his bloodshot eyes squinted. He was coughing, a strange, strained sound, his fist curled in front of his mouth and his shoulders hunched. It was a new cough, Rane thought, not the rough, turbid one she was used to hearing but a barking, cavernous sound, one that seemed to resonate like a hollow, taut drum. It seemed . . . worse , somehow, though she couldn't put her finger on just why.
"How ya feelin', Arthur?" Sadie asked him, clearly picking up on this as well.
"I'm okay," Arthur replied, gruff. He was rubbing his chest, not looking at her. Sadie was eyeing him appraisingly.
"I think you should cover me and I'll go in there and get 'er," she said at length.
Arthur fixed her with a contemptuous glare. Sadie scoffed, looking a little uncomfortable.
"Because you're the better shot!"
"That ain't what you mean." Arthur was scowling at her, his voice low and fierce. "I can still fight !"
"I know it, Arthur! I know you can! That ain't why I'm askin'!"
"Oh, don't bullshit me, Missus Adler -"
"Look, just - just do it my way, honey. It's for the best. Get up someplace high, like -" She floundered, gesturing. "Like that lighthouse or somethin'. Cover me."
"No, I'll take care of it."
Sadie and Arthur both turned. Rane was standing a little ways away, folding her sleeves up at the elbows and rolling her neck on her shoulders. Arthur made a derisive sound in the back of his throat.
"Oh no you ain't, not this time. These are Pinkertons , they're government boys, we ain't gonna let you run off all alone to -"
"Oh, no, you guys are coming, too," said Rane, glancing at him wryly. "But I'm going first and both of y'all are the flank guard. That means you stay the hell back," she added pointedly, looking at Sadie in particular. "We cool with that, friends?"
"Funny how your brilliant plans always end up as you doin' all the work, ain't it?" Arthur asked, looking irritable. "Why is that, exactly?"
"Because I'm good at doing all the work," said Rane, smiling at him. "And because I love you and I don't want you to get hurt. That answer your question?"
"You know who else is good at doin' all the work?" Arthur spread his arms.
"Yeah, well, you can believe in whatever Gods you want, but when it comes to crossing the road, you still look both ways." Rane pulled her sword from its sheath, twirling it around her wrist once, the blade clanging gently. "This is me looking both ways. Humor me."
"Oh, good Christ. Always with the theatrics." Arthur sighed, pulling both pistols from their holsters, his shirt clinging to his broad shoulders in the light rain. "Sadie, help me watch her back. She's gonna hold fast on this one, I can tell."
"Yeah, I figured as much. You gonna be okay up front? Really?" Sadie was pulling her own guns, watching Rane warily as she spun the cylinders. "I can hop up there by your side."
"No, but I'll say this: these guys don't know what a wand is and whether or not they should be afraid of it," said Rane, lifting her own and waggling it hither and yon in the humid air. "Everything will be smooth sailing until we get to the building, and then you guys will have to take over. Whoever is holding onto Abigail will respond better to a couple of barrels aimed at his head than he will to a girl with a stick. Cool?"
"Convoluted," Arthur remarked, looking unimpressed. "I love you."
"So you tell me."
"Sometimes seemsl like it's starting to make me dumb."
"You don't think you were just already dumb, maybe?"
Arthur tripped forward and swept her toward him, planting a kiss on her mouth, his hand on her lean waist, his pistol still dangling from his thumb.
"Don't be rude." He gestured with one gun. "You wanna show off, go on and show off, see if I care."
"Are you saying you aren't impressed?" Rane asked him with faux dismay.
"Nuh-uh."
Rane reached up and pecked the corner of his mouth once more, grinning. "Jealousy is unbecoming of you, sweetheart. Not a good look."
"Oh, shut up."
"Christ, that girl is nuts," Sadie remarked, watching Rane stride away, her sword drawn. "She takes this sort of shit like firesale, don't she?"
"Sure does seem to," Arthur muttered, watching the tick of her hips as she left them. "I ain't never been more frightened for a woman walkin' into danger, I'll tell ya that. Or less frightened, at that. I don't even know what to make of it."
"Well." Sadie scoffed, looking grimly amused. "Let's cover her, one way or another. Not like she needs it, God only knows."
IT was a bit of a wash from the start, predictably enough. Arthur and Sadie followed behind Rane, taking cover, but Rane strode out into the open, quite undaunted, her sword held lax at one side and her wand at the other, looking around her with all the vague interest of a peruser in a marketplace. The Pinkertons on standby near the water's edge shouted their warnings at her, aimed their weapons when she ignored them, and fired at last when she continued forward, and each of them fell by the deflection of their own bullets off her blade. The way she directed her return-fire was subtle, expert, and Sadie found herself a little hypnotized by it despite herself.
"Damn!" she murmured to Arthur, a little faint. He was at her side, crouched at the midsection, his breath coming rough in his throat as he watched her. "The way she sends it back at 'em! Christ, how in the hell does she do that?"
"Mmm. Dunno." Arthur sounded distracted. His interest was clearly with Rane herself, not her fancy swordplay, though Sadie thought his worry for her was likely unnecessary. She was moving through these men like a hot knife through butter, striding forward and dropping them with practiced ease, the ring of the gunshots and their ricochets loud and echoing. "She's getting close to the building, keep an eye on her."
Rane cast the last man down, this time aiming her wand at him. There was a brilliant flash of red and he fell, limp, into the water beside the dock, floating face-up and quite unconscious. Rane beckoned with one hand without looking up, aiming her sword and her wand at the door of the building before her. Arthur and Sadie rushed forward, guns still drawn. Neither of them had fired a single round.
"I'm gonna open the door and you're gonna handle whatever's inside," whispered Rane, meeting Arthur's eyes. "Okay?"
"Okay." Arthur pulled back the hammers of both guns and nodded to her. "Go on."
Rane paused before the door, a little winded, her long hair damp against her cheeks. The weathered sign next to the wooden door was hectically cheerful in the gloom: SILAS CRAWFORD TINNED and DRY GOODS and many other USEFUL ARTIFACTS. There were boot heels moving inside, audible only just over the rainfall.
"Here goes nothing," she muttered, and kicked open the door, staggering out of the way, boots stuttering on the damp wood.
Arthur stood on the dock, both guns leveled before him, his hat low over his forehead, his blue eyes glinting like flint beneath his brows, mouth turned down into a merciless sneer. He stepped forward as the door swung in with a shrill creak, guiding himself into the gloom within, legs staggered, hips lean and slung low. There were two men inside, one to the right, one to the left. The one on the right had a revolver placed against Abigail's head; the lady herself was tied to a chair, gagged, her hair in disarray and her eyes wild. Rane, standing a little ways behind Arthur, was as shocked by his speed as usual; he aimed, fired and dropped the both of them in the space of two seconds, the pair of reports so near to one another they seemed simultaneous.
Both men fell, headshot, blood dashing from the leftmost one in a spray and splattering the ceiling. Sadie laughed a little wildly.
"Jesus Christ, Arthur."
"Wyatt Earp over here," Rane remarked, grinning.
"Who?" said Arthur, holstering his guns and starting for Abigail.
Rane scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Typical. Never mind. Is she okay?"
Arthur strode forward, drawing his knife from his belt. Abigail was struggling against her binds, looking at him with wide eyes. "Yeah, seems to be. You stay back, lemme -"
There was the click of a hammer being drawn. Arthur froze. So did Sadie and Rane, both just inside the doorway. A man was moving out of the shadows, a pistol aimed at Arthur's heart, his eyes pale and grim beneath the rim of his hat.
"Fuck," Rane murmured. Her sword was already sheathed. "Shit, didn't see that one."
"That's Milton," said Sadie, very low, at Rane's side.
"Calm down, Mister Morgan," Milton said gently, quite calm. "Real nice and slow, now, you turn around for me."
Arthur remained where he was for a moment, bent over Abigail, then slowly straightened. He was coughing again, that same barking, dry sound from before, and he turned, facing his assailant, hands in the air.
"That's quite a cough," Milton said gently, smirking.
"Sure." Arthur offered him a grim smile. "Tuberculosis. I'll be dead soon. And you with me, Mister Milton."
"You'll be dead, sure, but I'm gonna be just fine," Milton replied, eyeing Arthur. He sighed, as if exasperated. "We offered you a deal, Mister Morgan. You should have taken it."
Arthur laughed, low and sardonic. The sound devolved into another series of coughs almost at once. "I guess I'm a fool, Mister Milton."
"Not all you boys have quite so many scruples. Old Micah Bell -"
"Micah?" Arthur's gaze sharpened. "You mean Micah -?"
"Molly O'Shea - well, we sweated her a couple of times, never talked a word. Had to let her go." Milton was watching Arthur, still smirking, clearly enjoying this. "Micah Bell, now, we picked him up when you boys came back from the Caribbean, and he's been a good boy ever since."
"Son of a bitch," Rane whispered, glaring at Milton from beneath her brows. "I fucking knew it."
"I ain't got much more use for you, I fear," Milton said, waving his gun. "I guess -"
There was a flash of brilliant green light. Milton stilled, his expression falling lax, and then crumpled into a heap onto the floor, his eyes staring at the ceiling sightlessly. Rane put her wand into her jeans pocket, frowning.
"Cutting it a little bit close," she remarked reproachfully, looking at Arthur.
"Thought you liked playful banter." Arthur was leaning over Abigail, slicing at her binds with his knife. A moment later she was on her feet, yanking the gag from her mouth.
"Horrible man," she murmured, glaring down at Milton. "I sure am glad to see you three, I ain't ashamed to say."
Once Abigail was freed, Arthur had staggered back, sliding down the far wall, still grasping his knife loosely in one hand, breathing hard. Rane went to him and knelt at his side, grasping his arm.
"Hey, hey. Come on, kiddo, you aren't done yet -"
Arthur coughed roughly, turning from her. She saw the spray of red in his palm before he was able to wipe it away on his jeans. He met her eyes, seeing the perception there.
"I'm alright, so don't ask me," he muttered.
"Arthur," Rane said, very soft.
Arthur met her eyes. She was crouched before him, her long legs folded beneath her, her damp hair hanging in her face, watching him with a desperate concern that made her seem older and more solemn. He attempted a light laugh, shaking his head, feeling wildly out of sorts.
"Quit lookin' at me like that and help me up, Rane."
"You -"
"Help me up." Arthur held a hand out, not looking at her. The red of his blood was still on his lips, though he didn't know it. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't be like this right now."
Rane looked at him a moment longer, then straightened and taking his hand in hers yanked him to his feet. She reached up and kissed him briefly when he had gained his legs, tasting the salty tang of his blood on her own tongue.
"Go easy," she muttered, very soft, meeting his eyes.
"I will, but only because you asked me to, and you're awful pretty."
"I'm not joking."
"Neither am I." Arthur raised his voice, pushing past her. "Abigail, you okay?"
"Fine. Pissed off, but fine." Abigail was straightening her dress. "What's goin' on? Where is everybody? Where's John?"
Rane and Sadie exchanged a look. Sadie cleared her throat.
"We're gonna make for Jack," said Sadie steadily. "We got horses. We're gonna get you outta here."
Rane nodded, but her eyes were still on Arthur. He was wiping at his mouth restlessly with his sleeve, and his hand had taken on a slight tremble. Rane followed him out of the building with a frown, watching the tentative tick of his hips as he strode toward the front of town, taking care to step around the Pinkertons littering the street.
