Thank you so much for reading! Sorry if this chapter is a bit short. I'm putting all my effort right now into the next one, and it's going to be great! Please review! And if there's a beta reader out there who would be will to take me under their wing, message me!

Marlowe

"You gave it up? How could you be so stupid?" Marlowe's latest business partner roared, pacing the hotel room furiously.

Marlowe scowled. She'd been strongly considering cutting Caius out in the last couple of days, but had been holding out for a suitable replacement. As much as she could hold her own when running a scam, there were unfortunately just some circumstances that a male presence was needed, even if just to be a silent presence. It usually lent credibility to her lies.

Caius Washbourne was the most recent of several over the years. He was a pompous, portly man with small, piggish eyes and a handlebar mustache and long but balding hair. She had met him sloppy drunk outside of a saloon in Tumbleweed and occasionally had at the time seemed just dumb enough to make a good prop in her cons, though lately it seemed he was starting to develop ideas of his own.

Marlowe rubbed her nose tiredly. "What was I supposed to do? I couldn't just leave him."

"You had the O'Driscolls eating from our palms, and you threw it all away for some asshole?" he said incredulously. "That was going to be my retirement from all the schemin'. I was gonna settle down after this!"

This was a lie; last time Marlowe had called upon Caius to assist in an attempt to gain the location of the Del Lobo's secret stash, they had experienced an excellent payday and Marlowe had given him more than a generous share in the profits. The low-life slipped right back into the saloons and drank and gambled all the money away and was writing to Marlowe demanding more work within a matter of weeks.

She chose not to point this out. "It doesn't matter anymore, Mr. Washbourne. It's done. I'll move on and see what I can find."

"No need. I found one." He stuffed a grubby leaf of papers into her hands. "You're welcome."

Marlowe was not loving this newfound drive in her associate. Still, she glanced through the papers, skimming through. She looked up at Caius. "The Dutch Van der Linde gang?"

He smirked, clearly very pleased with himself. "They just tried to pull the biggest ferry robbery in history. Came away with a hundred thousand dollars or more, then had to leave it behind and run."

"A hundred thousand dollars?" Marlowe said incredulously. "Are you sure? How come I haven't heard of them?"

"A feller in Valentine told me they was keeping a low profile. They ain't a large gang, and have a lot of women and even a couple children. But their guns are the best around, and their leader is supposed to be the smartest man alive."

She flipped the page, trying to make out Washbourne's nearly-illiterate scrawl. It was clear he put a lot of effort into selling her on this. "I don't like dealing with smart people," she said hesitantly.

"How smart could he be, if he left all that money behind?" Washbourne insisted. "Now, I figure you can work your silver tongue and convince them to let you go get the money from Blackwater and bring it back to them. Only you won't guess what we do with it instead."
"Give me three guesses," she muttered.

"We keep the money instead," Washbourne said a greasy grin. "And since I'm doin' the thinking on this, I figure my take is gonna be sixty percent."

Marlowe rolled her eyes. "I suppose you're going to be doing at least sixty percent of the work then, to merit such a pay raise."

"I do about that anyway, for your information," he said irritably.

"You were too hungover this morning to go with me to meet Colm O'Driscoll," Marlowe snapped. "And the time before, when I let you help me with the U.S. Army job a few months ago, you showed up drunk to meet with a general."

He snatched the papers out of her hands and waved them. "This time is different. Now, are you in or are you out?"

Marlowe sighed. "I guess." She didn't really have a choice. Her payment was due in two weeks. "But if this Dutch Van der Linde is as intelligent as you say, I'm taking the lead on this."

Washbourne bowed mockingly. "As you wish, madame."

Arthur

"Arthur!"

He startled and looked up from his journal. He had vaguely been aware of Uncle approaching his tent to talk to him, but had drifted off in thought, specifically a thought with long dark hair and magnificent blue-violet eyes. "What are you yammering on about, old man?" he growled.

Uncle turned to Sean, who was watching nearby. "See, what did I tell ya? Pay up."

The Irishman flipped a coin into Uncle's hand. "I see what you mean, ya old coot. He's downright twitterpated."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Arthur snapped his journal shut and rose from his cot to loom above the pair. Most people found his size to be intimidating and would back up if he straightened to his full height.

Clearly, Uncle and Sean were immune. Sean folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow. "So...who is she?"
"Who?" Arthur felt his ears growing warm and hoped they weren't turning red to match.

"Oh don't play dumb with us, Arthur!" nagged Uncle. "Mopin' around the camp, scribblin' in that book of yours, pining off into the distance like some schoolboy with a crush. You met a girl, didn't ya?"

"And a looker at that," Sean added with an air of satisfaction.

"Now, you best be telling us everything."
With a roll of his eyes, Arthur turned on his heel and strolled away from the pair toward the woodpile. It had been about two week since he had parted away with the young woman, and it was true that she had occupied most of his thoughts, though he hadn't realized it was so obvious. He picked up the axe and split a log clean in two, hoping that the chore would bore his hecklers into leaving him alone.

Nope, not that lucky. "Oh come now, Arthur, don't be selfish!" Sean cajoled, keeping a safe distance from Arthur and the axe. "We are forced to suffer day in and day out, surrounded by a bunch of ugly men and a few beautiful, untouchable women. Throw us a bone here! Where'd you meet her?"

Another log split. Arthur nudged it off into the pile with the head of his axe and placed another log. "You two may go around leching after every woman you see whenever you leave camp, but I don't feel the same need."

"She must really be somethin' then," Uncle remarked in awe. "I ain't seen you like this since you was chasing after that Mary girl years ago."

The mention of Mary made Arthur's fist clench. He swung the axe a bit too hard, splitting the log and burying the blade deep into the stump underneath. It took him a moment to wrestle it out. "If you absolutely must know," he conceded sarcastly, "it was a particularly good working girl out in Valentine. Gives the very best baths. Loves to be told that she has big hips."
"Nice try, you fooker," Sean smirked. "Last time you gave me advice about a saloon girl, she maimed me handsome face with a black eye. Now, who is this girl giving you the flutters?"

"Arthur!"

It was Dutch, beckoning him from across the camp. Arthur set down the axe and casually saluted Uncle and Sean. "Duty calls."

"Oh don't you think for one second this conversation is done!" Uncle blustered after him.

Arthur waved him off. Dutch beckoned him inside his tent and closed the flap behind him. "How are you holdin' up, Arthur?"

He shrugged. "Not bad. It's pretty country, at least until you get into town."

"Good. You seem pretty healed up from your scrape with the O'Driscolls. That young lady has my eternal gratitude." Dutch clapped him on the back affectionately. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Arthur."
Arthur grinned. "What are you wantin' me to do, Dutch?"

"Nothing death-defying. Micah met a gentleman at a saloon near Valentine, and like the drunk fool he can be, he mentioned that we had money back in Blackwater we couldn't get to."

Rage flickered through Arthur's chest. "He did WHAT? That idiot is gonna lead the Pinkerton's right to us!"

Dutch held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Fortunately for us, this gentleman was...let's say a little more understanding to our plight. He actually offered to go and smuggle the money out for us, obviously for a percentage."

"Let me guess," Arthur rubbed his face tiredly. "Micah told a complete stranger where to find a hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

"Not quite that stupid, thankfully," Dtuch chuckled. "He consulted me first on it and I slapped him up the back of his thick skull."

Arthur huffed. That moron was going to get them all killed.
"But," Dutch continued, "I did decide to meet with this stranger. He needs help takin' on an army payroll stagecoach. Supposed to be minimum security. They're wantin to move that money light and fast at night to avoid any unwanted attention.""

Arthur wrinkled his nose skeptically. "Dutch, do we really wanna be takin' on the US army right now? We was just starting to lose a bit of that heat from Blackwater. And how do we know Micah's new friend is legitimate?"

"I've had Hosea and Charles doing some digging. The army is indeed supposed to be deploying a payroll stage around this time en route to St. Denis, and according to Micah them stages tend to travel light on security, so we know at least that part is true."
"Oh, well, if accordin' to Micah it all sounds true, then let me lead the charge," said Arthur with a very deep scowl.

"Come now, Arthur, have a little faith," Dutch chastised. "We need money, desperately. We're supposed to meet the man tonight. He said to bring a small crew so we stay unnoticed."

Arthur threw his hands in the air in defeat. "Of course he did."
"Which is why," Dutch continued pointedly, "I'm taking you, Javier, Lenny, Micah, Hosea, Charles, Sean, and Bill along with me. Figure if he seems too nervous about having the whole lot of us there, he's probably not being honest with us."
That part didn't sound too bad. With the exception of Micah, Arthur trusted every single one of those men to keep their heads. "How many men will this person be supplying?"

"Just himself and a business partner," said Dutch. "Though neither of them seem to be the best of fighers. I figure we give them a cut of the profits for providing the information and making the plan."

Arthur had to admit, it didn't seem too horrible. Maybe a little riskier than he'd like for their situation, but… "I suppose if you think it's solid, it should work. When do we leave?"

Dutch clapped him on the back again. "Tonight."