Your heart of hearts, your dream of dreams, your ravishing brunette
She's left you and she's now become somebody else's pet
Lay down that gun, don't try, my friend, to reach the great beyond
You'll have more fun by reaching for a redhead or a blonde
Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think
Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink
The years go by, as quickly as a wink
Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think
Guy Lombardo"Where's Jack? What happened?"
Rane glanced over at Abigail. She was riding Arthur's horse, her dark hair flying back from her temples. Arthur had taken up a spot behind Sadie, grasping her waist, his head lolling a little. The four of them were riding away from Rhodes toward camp at a brisk canter, the rain falling around them gently and steadily. At this point, the only one who wasn't soaked through was Abigail, who'd spent the last several hours roped to a chair beneath a roof.
"Jack is with Tilly. He's safe. Back at camp."
Rane gave Abigail what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Truthfully, her thoughts were far more preoccupied with Arthur Morgan at this very moment than they were with Abigail, Jack and John. She hadn't liked the way he'd collapsed to the floor in Rhodes, and she'd liked even less the damp crimson of his blood glistening on his lips as he told her he was fine. He was silent behind Sadie on horseback, his eyes on the trail, hat drawn low and a little slumped over, his grip a trifle lax on Sadie's waist and his breath ragged and fast. The difference between Arthur Morgan from an hour and a half ago and Arthur Morgan now was startlingly dramatic. When they'd delivered Abigail to Jack, Rane intended to strongarm him away someplace secluded so he could rest for a little while, and the rest of it be damned. If she had to bind him and drag him off by the hair, so be it.
"What happened back there, Abigail?" Sadie asked, looking over her shoulder.
"Them Pinkertons showed up and snatched me up while I was near camp," said Abigail, shaking her head. "It was so quick, I couldn't really do nothin' to stop it."
"They didn't hurt ya none?" Arthur asked, glancing at her.
Abigail shook her head. "Nah. Shoved me around a little bit, is all. They wanted Dutch. Or you, Arthur. I dunno which one they wanted worse."
"Well, Milton was wasting his time, then, Dutch don't care about jack shit no more except for his own hide," said Arthur. He reached past Sadie, yanking at the reins grasped in her hands, pulling back. "Ladies, ladies . . . hold on a sec. Wait up."
"Arthur, what the hell are you doin' -?" Sadie was struggling for control of the reins again, taken utterly by surprise. Arthur was persistent, though, and the horse was coming to a prancing stop, braying. "Let go -!"
Abigail and Rane pulled their horses to a halt, Eli snorting and tossing his head. They had arrived at a crossroads, the rain still driving gently down over them. Arthur slid off Sadie's horse, his boots splashing in the damp puddled earth beneath him, making for Abigail, his gait a little unsteady.
"Arthur, there's no time!" said Sadie sharply.
"There's time."
His breath was fast and rough, and he reached both trembling hands up toward Abigail, gesturing gently, clearly meaning to help her off his horse. Abigail looked down at him, her eyes shrewd and dark, not moving, her fists white-knuckled tight against the reins.
"Where's John?" she asked, her voice very low. "What happened to John?"
Arthur watched her, still panting, his mouth working. Rane watched him struggle with her brows knitted, frowning. He didn't know how to do this, any more than she did, and yet the responsibility had fallen squarely onto his shoulders, as it so frequently seemed to do. Rane got down off Eli as well, standing alongside him and watching this, silent, her hand on Eli's withers.
"I . . . I don't -" Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "I think . . ."
He trailed off, breathing hard, his bloodshot eyes on Abigail's. Rane saw the slow realization dawning on her face, gradual, guarded. Arthur gestured again, his hands still outstretched.
"C'mon, Abigail, lemme help ya down. C'mere."
She looked at him warily a moment longer, then finally acquiesced, allowing Arthur to take her waist and help her off the saddle. She landed lightly before him, watching his face acutely.
"Arthur." Her voice was harsh and demanding. "John. Where's John?"
"He . . . " Arthur was watching her, shifting from foot to foot like a kid scolded by his teacher. Rane pitied him to the core of her in that moment. There could be no preparation for something like this. "He -"
"What, Arthur? What?"
Arthur sighed, shaking his head, then he pulled his hat off and held it against his chest. "He got killed or he got captured -"
Abigail was recoiling before this sentence was even finished, as if she'd known all along. She grasped at her throat, shaking her head. "No. No."
"I'm really sorry, Abigail. I am." Arthur's voice was low and hoarse, his face so pained that he was almost unrecognizable. Sadie strode forward and grasped Abigail's shoulders, pulling her closer. "I was . . . I was on the train and I didn't see it -"
"No. No." Abigail was weeping freely now, all her bombast and hauteur departed, her face crumpling. Rane felt a rush of empathy for her. "No, he can't be -"
"Listen, we got Jack. He's safe." Arthur replaced his hat and grasped her hand tightly in his own. He gestured to Sadie. "Missus Adler will take you to him."
Abigail was bent at the waist, crying, her shoulders shaking. Rane had never seen her at such a disadvantage, so broken and emotional, and it was strangely humbling. This woman loved John Marston with every fiber of her being, as least as much as Rane loved Arthur, and the realization of this truth was subduing, making her bitterly regret every flippant, dismissive word she'd ever said to her about John. Dutch's exploits were harming more people than just Sean and Molly, now.
"Abigail, listen to me." Arthur took her shoulders, shaking her gently. And when she continued to look at the dirt, weeping: "Hey. Look at me and listen to me. I want you to know this."
Abigail did, reluctantly, her damp eyes sliding up to meet his, her mouth contorted as she struggled not to sob. Arthur brushed her hair from her temple gently.
"He loved you," he said quietly. "He loved you and Jack, he did."
"Oh, he did, did he?" Abigail gestured at Rane angrily, her eyes damp and red.
Rane shook her head, her expression meek and deferential. "It wasn't me he wanted. It never was."
Abigail watched her a moment longer, her breath hitching, eyes wet and distraught and a little frantic. Rane remained where she was, keeping her gaze steady with some effort, quashing her ego for once and readying herself for a tongue-lashing if it was required. She could see Abigail wanting to lash out at her, to use her as a whipping post for her bereavement, and Rane was fully prepared to bear the brunt of this if it would dull the sharpest edges of her grief. Arthur saw this too and grasped Abigail's shoulder, shaking his head.
"Hey, quit worryin' about Rane and listen to me," he said quietly. "I need ya to hear what I'm sayin' right now, I ain't got strength enough to tell it twice. It's difficult enough as it is, you ain't the only one that cared for him."
After a moment Abigail dropped her gaze from Rane, still weeping quietly. Arthur squeezed her hands in his.
"Abigail, he wasn't perfect, I know it. He was a real son of a bitch sometimes, pig-headed and dumb as rusted iron and foolhardy and whatever else ya want, but he loved the pair of ya, he did."
"She -!"
"No, 'she' nothin', Rane don't have no love for him and he didn't have none for her, whatever happened between 'em didn't mean nothin' and I think you know it good and well." Arthur glanced at Rane. "Sorry to take liberties, ma'am."
Rane shook her head, brushing this off, watching this exchange with her arms wrapped around her shoulders.
"John wasn't never anybody's but yours. Don't you spoil him, thinkin' that way, don't you dare. You knew him better than all that."
Abigail nodded, her eyes still streaming, shaking her head. "Oh, Arthur. I just -"
Arthur tripped forward and hugged her to him. She grasped at him with panicky tightness, her breath hitching, burying her face against his shirt. He allowed this to go on for a moment, then pressed her back, gesturing to the horse behind her, his eyes hardening.
"Alright, now, that's enough of that. Go on, get outta here. Missus Adler here's gonna escort ya to Jack."
"What are you gonna do, pray tell?" Sadie asked, looking at him warily as she climbed onto her horse.
"I gotta go have a little chat," said Arthur, shaking his head. "Before I get much sicker."
"Arthur." Sadie's voice was scathing. "What are you doin', honey?"
"What I have to," said Arthur gruffly, his tone brooking no argument.
Sadie sighed as she readjusted herself in the saddle, clearly recognizing summary defeat, and glanced over at Rane. "What about you, then? You goin' with Arthur?"
Rane was still hugging her shoulders next to Eli, watching this exchange with silent dismay, her dark hair plastered to her neck in the light rain. Arthur looked over at her too, his brows low beneath the rim of his hat.
"That's up to her."
Rane nodded, letting her eyes fall shut. "I'm coming with you, Arthur. We made a deal."
"You go with them and I won't think twice on it, I'll find you again after -"
"No." Rane shook her head, looking up at him. "We made a deal."
Arthur nodded, flexing his jaw and watching her, his blue eyes flicking over her features pensively.
"You two can't take on all them bastards alone," said Sadie roughly, glaring at Arthur. "Lemme give Abigail my horse and the three of us can -!"
"No." Rane was shaking her head already. "We can take them, same way we took Rhodes."
"Same way we took Rhodes? You mean by letting you take Rhodes for us?" Sadie shook her head. "Rane, you're good, but you're getting too goddamned cocky and it's gonna get you into trouble one of these days -"
Rane scoffed, looking away. "Look, I'm pretty confident I can -"
"Yeah that's the problem, you're confident! You're gettin' too big for your britches, girl!" Sadie was glaring at Rane, her eyes hard and flashing. "We all know you're good at layin' fellers low, sure, but you gotta know where to draw the line sometimes! Hell, you been gutshot once and stabbed damn near to death from the sound of it -!"
"That's neither here nor there, this has nothing to do with -"
"You're takin' on more than you can handle with them boys back at camp and it's gonna rare up and bite you right in the ass, if you ain't careful."
"I AM careful!" Rane said, a little more stridently than she had intended. "I KNOW what I'm doing -!"
"Sure, but you don't know who you're dealin' WITH!" Sadie retorted persistently.
"I know them all, Sadie -!"
"Based on what, a couple weeks watchin' 'em? They ain't what you think they are -!"
"I think they're a bunch of hardcase cowboys with guns on their hips." Rane's voice was derisive. "A couple God complexes and some hair triggers in chaps and boots? I think I've seen worse than all that, Sadie, with more lethal weapons than a couple of rusty decade-old revolvers and a piss-poor temper -!"
"Oh, girl, don't you be stupid right now! Don't you dare be stupid and get somebody else I care for killed dead, because that kinda thinkin' is why John ain't here with us right now!"
Rane fell silent, watching Sadie and chewing her lip. Sadie met her angry gaze, unflinching. Abigail and Arthur were watching Rane, too, silent, neither daring to interrupt.
"I didn't get John killed," said Rane, very quietly. "I didn't get anyone killed. If anything, I helped a lot of them to not get dead -!"
"I didn't say you caused John to die, Rane, I said that was the type of thinking that -!"
"John would have died at that Pinkerton camp if it wasn't for me -!"
"You - ain't - God," Sadie said at last, enunciating each word. "If you think you are then you ain't no better than Dutch Van Der Linde, girl. You don't need me to tell you that."
Still Rane said nothing. She was looking at the ground, her brows furrowed. Arthur cleared his throat.
"You're right about Rane," said Arthur, nodding and waving a hand. "You're still goin' with Abigail, though, Sadie. She needs you more than us."
Sadie glared at him a moment longer, looking pained, then climbed back onto her horse. Abigail was still standing on the dirt trail, her hands clasped at her throat, weeping.
"Oh, Arthur -!"
"No, don't you 'oh Arthur' me right now, neither of ya," said Arthur, taking Abigail by the waist as she wept, looking up at him with frank desolation. "You c'mere and get on this horse and that's the end of it."
He lifted her up without further fanfare, grunting, setting her onto the saddle behind Sadie. She continued to look down at him, her blue eyes streaming, her mouth thin and downturned.
"Arthur -!"
"No, you mind me, now!" Arthur said sharply, fixing his bloodshot eyes on hers. She wilted a little beneath his gaze, some of the grief melting away from her face. "I need to know you lot got outta this! Otherwise, it was all for nothin'!"
Sadie and Abigail watched him, silent. Arthur took one of their hands each, squeezing gently.
"You're good women. Good people. The best." He smiled a little then, grim and ill but still sincere, heartbreaking in its truth. "You go get that boy. There'll be a time for grievinb later."
"If you're headed back there, Arthur, take this." Abigail pulled a key from her pocket, handing it over. "There's a chest in them caves, in the back to the left. Hidden under a wagon." She leaned forward a little, fixing her damp gaze on his. "Dutch's chest."
Arthur took the key, looking a little flabbergasted, and as he stuffed it in his pocket he grasped her hand in his, grinning a little bit.
"Abigail Roberts."
"I always was a good thief."
"That you was." Arthur squeezed her hand a final time, then released it. "Go on, now. Get outta here."
He turned without looking at either
Your heart of hearts, your dream of dreams, your ravishing brunette
She's left you and she's now become somebody else's pet
Lay down that gun, don't try, my friend, to reach the great beyond
You'll have more fun by reaching for a redhead or a blonde
Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think
Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink
The years go by, as quickly as a wink
Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think
Guy Lombardo
"Where's Jack? What happened?"
Rane glanced over at Abigail. She was riding Arthur's horse, her dark hair flying back from her temples. Arthur had taken up a spot behind Sadie, grasping her waist, his head lolling a little. The four of them were riding away from Rhodes toward camp at a brisk canter, the rain falling around them gently and steadily. At this point, the only one who wasn't soaked through was Abigail, who'd spent the last several hours roped to a chair beneath a roof.
"Jack is with Tilly. He's safe. Back at camp."
Rane gave Abigail what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Truthfully, her thoughts were far more preoccupied with Arthur Morgan at this very moment than they were with Abigail, Jack and John. She hadn't liked the way he'd collapsed to the floor in Rhodes, and she'd liked even less the damp crimson of his blood glistening on his lips as he told her he was fine. He was silent behind Sadie on horseback, his eyes on the trail, hat drawn low and a little slumped over, his grip a trifle lax on Sadie's waist and his breath ragged and fast. The difference between Arthur Morgan from an hour and a half ago and Arthur Morgan now was startlingly dramatic. When they'd delivered Abigail to Jack, Rane intended to strongarm him away someplace secluded so he could rest for a little while, and the rest of it be damned. If she had to bind him and drag him off by the hair, so be it.
"What happened back there, Abigail?" Sadie asked, looking over her shoulder.
"Them Pinkertons showed up and snatched me up while I was near camp," said Abigail, shaking her head. "It was so quick, I couldn't really do nothin' to stop it."
"They didn't hurt ya none?" Arthur asked, glancing at her.
Abigail shook her head. "Nah. Shoved me around a little bit, is all. They wanted Dutch. Or you, Arthur. I dunno which one they wanted worse."
"Well, Milton was wasting his time, then, Dutch don't care about jack shit no more except for his own hide," said Arthur. He reached past Sadie, yanking at the reins grasped in her hands, pulling back. "Ladies, ladies . . . hold on a sec. Wait up."
"Arthur, what the hell are you doin' -?" Sadie was struggling for control of the reins again, taken utterly by surprise. Arthur was persistent, though, and the horse was coming to a prancing stop, braying. "Let go -!"
Abigail and Rane pulled their horses to a halt, Eli snorting and tossing his head. They had arrived at a crossroads, the rain still driving gently down over them. Arthur slid off Sadie's horse, his boots splashing in the damp puddled earth beneath him, making for Abigail, his gait a little unsteady.
"Arthur, there's no time!" said Sadie sharply.
"There's time."
His breath was fast and rough, and he reached both trembling hands up toward Abigail, gesturing gently, clearly meaning to help her down from her horse. Abigail looked down at him, her eyes shrewd and dark, not moving, her fists white-knuckled tight against the reins.
"Where's John?" she asked, her voice very low. "What happened to John?"
Arthur watched her, still panting, his mouth working. Rane watched him struggle with her brows knitted, frowning. He didn't know how to do this, any more than she did, and the responsibility had fallen squarely onto his shoulders, as it so frequently seemed to do. Rane got down off Eli as well, standing alongside him and watching this, silent, her hand on Eli's withers.
"I . . . I don't -" Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "I think . . ."
He trailed off, breathing hard, his bloodshot eyes on Abigail's. Rane saw the slow realization dawning on her face, gradual, guarded. Arthur gestured again, his hands still outstretched.
"C'mon down, Abigail, lemme help ya down. C'mere."
She looked at him warily a moment longer, then finally acquiesced, allowing Arthur to take her waist and help her off the saddle. She landed lightly before him, watching his face acutely.
"Arthur." Her voice was harsh and demanding. "John. Where's John?"
"He . . . " Arthur was watching her, shifting from foot to foot like a kid trying to avoid being scolded by his teacher. Rane pitied him to the core of her in that moment. There could be no preparation for something like this. "He -"
"What, Arthur? What?"
Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "He got killed or he got captured -"
Abigail was recoiling before this sentence was even finished, as if she'd known all along. She grasped at her throat, shaking her head. "No. No."
"I'm really sorry, Abigail. I am." Arthur's voice was low and hoarse, his face so pained that he was almost unrecognizable. Sadie strode forward and grasped Abigail's shoulders, pulling her closer. "I was . . . I was on the train and I didn't see it -"
"No. No." Abigail was weeping freely now, all her bombast and hauteur departed, her face crumpling. Rane felt a rush of empathy for her. "No, he can't be -"
"Listen, we got Jack. He's safe." Arthur grasped her hand tightly in his own. He gestured to Sadie. "Missus Adler will take you to him."
Abigail was bent at the waist, crying, her shoulders shaking. Rane had never seen her at such a disadvantage, so broken and emotional, and it was strangely humbling. This woman loved John Marston with every fiber of her being, as least as much as Rane loved Arthur, and the realization of this truth was subduing, making her bitterly regret every flippant, dismissive word she'd ever said to her about John. Dutch's exploits were harming more people than just Sean and Molly, now.
"Abigail, listen to me." Arthur took her shoulders, shaking her gently. And when she continued to look at the dirt, weeping: "Hey. Look at me and listen to me. I want you to know this."
Abigail did, reluctantly, her damp eyes sliding up to meet his, her mouth contorted as she struggled not to sob. Arthur brushed her hair from her temple gently.
"He loved you," he said quietly. "He loved you and Jack, he did."
"He bedded her! How much could he have loved me?" Abigail gestured at Rane angrily, her eyes damp and red. Rane shook her head.
"Only because he was looking for someone to fill the gap you left," said Rane frankly, meeting her hurt gaze. "He was wanting for you and I was handy, that was all it was, Abigail -"
"He said your name in his SLEEP!" Abigail said sharply, glaring at her fiercely.
Rane shook her head, her expression meek and deferential. "It wasn't me he wanted. It never was."
Abigail watched her a moment longer, her breath hitching, shaking her head. Rane remained where she was, keeping her eyes steady with some effort, quashing her ego for once and preparing to accept a tonguelashing if it was required.
"Abigail, quit worryin' about Rane and listen to me," said Arthur quietly. "I need ya to hear what I'm sayin' right now, I ain't got strength enough to tell it twice. It's difficult enough as it is."
After a moment Abigail dropped her gaze from Rane, still weeping quietly. Arthur squeezed her hands in his.
"Abigail, he wasn't perfect, I know it. He was a real son of a bitch sometimes, pig-headed and dumb as rusted iron and foolhardy and whatever else ya want, but he did, he loved the pair of ya."
"She -!"
"Rane don't have no love for him and he don't have no love for her, whatever happened between 'em didn't mean nothin' and I think you know it good and well." Arthur gestured at Rane, who was watching this exchange with her arms wrapped around her shoulders, frowning, biting her lip. "Sorry to take liberties with your privacy, ma'am."
Rane waved a hand, shaking her head. Arthur turned back to Abigail.
"Rane loves me, and I love her. John wasn't never anybody's but yours. Don't you spoil him, thinkin' that way, don't you dare. You knew him better than all that."
Abigail nodded, her eyes still streaming, shaking her head. "Oh, Arthur. I just -"
Arthur tripped forward and hugged her to him. She grasped at him with panicky tightness, her breath hitching, burying her face against his shirt. He allowed this to go on for a moment, then pressed her back, gesturing to the horse behind her, his eyes hardening.
"Go on, get outta here. You and Sadie both go on."
"Arthur, what are you doin'?" Sadie asked, looking at him.
"I gotta go have a little chat," said Arthur, shaking his head. "Before I get much sicker."
"And you?" said Sadie, looking over at Rane.
Rane was still standing next to Eli, one hand grasping his bridle, watching this exchange with silent dismay, frowning, her dark hair plastered to her neck in the light rain. Arthur gestured at her with one hand, shaking his head.
"She's coming with me. We came to an agreement that she stays with me unless we don't have no other choice. Didn't we?" He added, glancing at her.
Rane nodded, letting her eyes fall shut. "Yeah, we did."
"You two can't take on all them bastards alone," said Sadie roughly, glaring at Arthur. "Lemme give Abigail my horse and the three of us can -!"
"No." Rane was shaking her head already. "We can take them, same way we took Rhodes."
"Same way we took Rhodes, you mean, by letting you take Rhodes for us?" Sadie shook her head. "Rane, you're good, but you're getting too goddamned cocky and it's gonna get you into trouble one of these days -"
Rane scoffed, looking away. "Look, I'm pretty confident I can -"
"Yeah that's the problem, you're confident you can! You're gettin' too big for your britches, girl!" Sadie was glaring at Rane, her eyes hard and flashing. "We all know you're good at layin' fellers low, sure, but you gotta know where to draw the line sometimes! Hell, you been gutshot once and stabbed damn near to death another time from the sound of it -!"
"That's neither here nor there, this has nothing to do with -"
"You're takin' on more than you can handle with them boys back at camp and it's gonna rare up and bite you right in the ass, if you ain't careful!"
"I AM careful!" Rane said, a little more stridently than she had intended. "I KNOW what I'm doing -!"
"Sure, but you don't know who you're dealin' WITH!" Sadie retorted persistently.
"A bunch of hardcase cowboys with guns on their hips, you mean?" said Rane sharply, sounding derisive. "A couple God complexes and some hair triggers in chaps and boots? I think I've seen worse than all that, Sadie, with more lethal weapons than a couple of five-year-old rusty revolvers and a piss-poor temper -!"
"Oh, girl, don't you be stupid right now! Don't you dare be stupid and get somebody else I care for killed dead, because that kinda thinkin' is why John ain't here with us right now!"
Rane looked at her, silent, chewing her lip. Sadie met her angry gaze, unflinching. Abigail and Arthur were watching Rane, too, silent, neither daring to interrupt.
"You - ain't - God," Sadie said at last, enunciating each word. "If you think you are then you ain't no better than Dutch Van Der Linde, girl. You don't need me to tell you that."
Still Rane said nothing. She was looking at the ground, her brows furrowed. Arthur cleared his throat.
"You're right about Rane," said Arthur, nodding and waving a hand. "You're still goin' with Abigail, though, Sadie. She needs you more than us."
Sadie glared at him a moment longer, looking pained, then climbed back onto her horse. Abigail was still standing on the dirt trail, her hands clasped at her throat, weeping.
"Oh, Arthur -!"
"No, don't you 'oh Arthur' me right now, neither of ya," said Arthur, taking Abigail by the waist as she wept, looking up at him with frank desolation. "You c'mere and get on this horse and that's the end of it."
He lifted her up without further fanfare, grunting, setting her onto the saddle behind Sadie. She continued to look down at him, her blue eyes streaming, her mouth thin and downturned.
"Arthur -!"
"No, you mind me, now!" Arthur said sharply, fixing his bloodshot eyes on hers. She wilted a little beneath his gaze, some of the grief melting away from her face. "I need to know you lot got outta this! Otherwise, it was all for nothin'!"
Sadie and Abigail watched him, silent. Arthur took one of their hands each, squeezing gently.
"You're good women. Good people. The best." He smiled a little then, grim and ill but still sincere, heartbreaking in its truth. "You go get that boy. There'll be a time for sorrow later."
"If you're headed back there, Arthur, take this." Abigail pulled a key from her pocket, handing it over. "There's a chest in them caves, in the back to the left. Hidden under a wagon." She leaned forward a little, fixing her damp gaze on his. "Dutch's chest."
Arthur took the key, looking a little flabbergasted, and as he stuffed it in his pocket he grasped her hand in his, grinning a little bit.
"Abigail Roberts."
"I always was a good thief."
"That you was." Arthur squeezed her hand a final time, then released it. "Go on, now. Get outta here."
He turned without looking at either of them again, making his way back to where his horse stood beside Rane and Eli, his eyes on the dirt. Rane was too keen to miss the brightness there.
