They parted ways in the morning, Grace to the bank and Arthur to the barber's. Even though Grace said she didn't mind his hair getting longer, Arthur decided to get it trimmed anyway.
After a haircut and a shave at the barber's, Arthur set out for the park where they had agreed to meet. Along the way, he suddenly stopped at a storefront. Before he could think about it, he dismounted and entered the shop, the bell above the door tinkling to announce his arrival.
"Be with you in a moment!" a man called from the back.
Arthur looked around, feeling strange he wasn't in here to rob the place. He looked into the glass cabinets containing a variety of necklaces and rings. The last time he was in a jeweller's honestly was before he proposed to Mary.
"Ah, um, sir, are you sure you're in the right place?" a well-dressed man joined him.
"Why? My money ain't good enough?"
"No, sir, just... you don't look..." the jeweller stopped when he saw Arthur's face harden and cleared his throat, "Ahem, well what are you looking for today?"
"A ring."
"Okay, well, we have many types," the jeweller stepped behind a counter display of rings, "What's the occasion?"
"Um, well, I... I want to ask..." Arthur stammered.
"Ah, a special lady? Well, I can certainly help you with that." The jeweller went to remove one of the displays then paused. "One certainly doesn't like to be coarse, but budget?"
"Oh, uh, nothing too expensive, I ain't Cornwall," Arthur joked.
"Of course, of course. Now this one is modestly priced at $450, and-"
"You're gonna have to go lower," Arthur interrupted.
"Right. Okay, this one has a smaller stone at $250-"
"Can't do that either," Arthur sighed. Maybe he should wait. "Sorry for wasting your time."
"Actually, I may have something that you may be interested in."
"How much?"
"I can't let it go for any lower than $150."
Arthur thought for a moment. "Would you do a trade?"
"A trade? I, uh, don't think..."
"I have this watch, was told it was a good one," he took out the pocket watch he had gotten from the riverboat heist.
"Ah, a Reutlinger!" The jeweller looked it over. "Don't see this too often. Where did you-" he paused as he looked at Arthur. "Never mind. Tell you what. You have a look at this ring and then decide, yes?"
"Sure."
The jeweller left to the back of the shop, leaving Arthur to lean against the counter. His mind was racing now. Was he really going to go through with this? He had thought about asking Grace to marry him for a while now, but now it seemed more real. It was real.
"Here we are," the jeweller returned with a small box, "Now, this was cut by my apprentice and the dolt didn't do a very good job, but he needed the practice. But if she truly loves you, she won't mind." He opened the box to reveal a silver ring with the bluest stone Arthur had ever seen. It reminded him of Grace's intense blue eyes. It was perfect.
"I'll take it." Arthur picked up the box to have a closer look.
"Excellent, now what is the lady's ring size?"
"Uh, size?"
"I see. Well, have her come in and I'll resize it if it doesn't fit."
"Sure." Arthur carefully closed the box and put it in his satchel.
"Good luck, sir," the jeweller said, taking the pocket watch off the counter.
Arthur left feeling even more nervous. If this wasn't proof he was going to leave her, he didn't know what was. He mounted up and tried not to rush to the park. How was he going to ask her? Just come right out and say it? Give some speech about he ain't ever going to leave her?
He left his horse near Tuula, who was grazing calmly, and approached Grace who was sitting on a bench overlooking the pond.
"Everything go okay at the bank?" he asked.
"Of course, why, you thought I was going to try to rob it?" she smirked. He cracked a smile. "You okay?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Yeah."
"You seem on edge, what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, it's... well..." he sat down next to her and took her hand. "I-"
"There you are, Morgan!" Bill stalked up to them, "Dutch's been wondering where the hell you went, been sending us all over creation trying to find you."
"Oh, I'm sorry, it's my fault, I had him run some errands with me," Grace apologised.
"Well, he wants you back at camp," Bill was about to leave, then turned back, "Oh, and you too, Miss... whatever your name is."
"Grace."
"Yeah, that." Bill turned and left.
"What does Dutch want me for?" she asked Arthur.
"I don't know," he shrugged, "But let's go find out."
"Wait, do you still want to talk?"
"It can wait," he squeezed her hand.
They returned to Shady Belle shortly after Bill. Dutch was on the balcony and waved for them to come up, but Molly had rushed out the front door, grabbed Grace's hand and pulled her away.
"I need to talk to ya," she demanded.
"Um, I'll catch you later then," Grace called to Arthur as she was hurried away. He smirked as he headed upstairs.
"Well, so kind of you to finally join us," Dutch greeted him.
"Been spending a lot of time with Miss Bellerose, haven't you?" Hosea asked with a small smile.
"Heh, yeah."
"Well, that's just fantastic, while you're out gallivanting with her, we're here trying to plan a bank robbery with Angelo Bronte still alive," Dutch said.
"What if we don't need to rob the bank?" Arthur asked.
"What do you mean? Have you lost your nerve?" Dutch frowned.
"No, I mean-"
"We need to deal with business the right way."
"We don't need to take revenge, we hardly know the guy," Hosea interrupted.
"This ain't about revenge, Hosea, Angelo Bronte don't mean shit to me. This is about the fact that we are planning to rob a bank in his town. A bank which he no doubt protects, a town where his men are gunning for us. Before we do that, we gotta put him out of commission."
"I disagree," said Hosea, "There's always an easier way. Arthur, what did you mean by not needing to rob the bank?"
"Well, Grace, I mean, she and I have a way to get the money we need," Arthur said slowly.
"Oh, well that's settled then," Hosea nodded.
"No, it is not settled," Dutch said angrily, "He is a vindictive little power broker who rules by fear. Now, we pull that stunt in his cess pit of a town, we're doomed. You wanna leave this place? Leave this country? We need that money."
"But if Arthur and Grace-"
"I don't even know if we can trust her, Hosea," Dutch frowned at Arthur.
"Of course you can, Dutch," Arthur said, trying not to sound too angry, "She can get you the money we need."
"But this would be it," Dutch said, ignoring Arthur, "This is the last job that we are ever gonna pull. Before the year is out, we are gonna be harvesting mangoes in Tahiti."
"Well forgive me if I'm not thinking too much about the mango harvest," Hosea stood angrily.
"This is it," Dutch said, "Trust me." He looked between Hosea and Arthur. "Arthur?"
Arthur thought for a moment. Angelo Bronte certainly wasn't a nice man, and even Grace didn't have anything kind to say about him. He still wasn't sure exactly what happened to her at the mansion.
"Well, if it's business, then business is business."
Hosea sighed in defeat. "You'll damn us all."
Dutch glared at Hosea for a moment. "Arthur, come on."
"You better be right about this one," Arthur followed Dutch through the house.
"I am."
"I heard that before."
"And usually I have been right. Now where's Miss Bellerose?"
"Molly wanted to talk to her."
"Goddamn Molly, always wanting to talk."
"What do you want with Grace anyway?"
"She's the only one who knows the layout of Bronte's house," Dutch led him out the front door, "She can tell us where that son of a bitch sleeps."
Arthur frowned and followed him to the dock where Molly and Grace were talking. They were just finishing up as Dutch approached.
"We'll talk more later, okay?" Grace said, placing her hand on Molly's shoulder. Molly nodded and looked at Dutch hopefully, then walked away disappointed when he didn't pay any attention.
"Can you tell us what to expect when we get into Bronte's mansion?" Dutch asked.
"Hello to you too," Grace replied sarcastically, "You can expect a lot of armed men."
"Yes, I know that, but I meant what's the layout like, where is Bronte's room?"
Grace looked between Dutch and Arthur, who only raised his eyebrows slightly, then sighed and took out her journal. "I assume you're going in through the back," she said as she started drawing.
"Of course, Arthur and I are going to meet a boatman in Lagras. We can sneak in off the water and take them by surprise."
"Hm. There will still be plenty of armed guards outside," she continued drawing, "So the main floor is straightforward, you've already been to the front parlour. The other rooms on the main floor are mostly for entertaining guests. And you'll be going at night?"
"Well we certainly can't go during the day," Dutch scoffed.
"Just making sure. Angelo Bronte's rooms are on the second floor, left of the stairs and on the right. There will be at least four armed guards up there, but maybe more now after that trolley station robbery." She finished drawing, ripped out the page and handed it to Dutch. "None of Bronte's personal guards actually sleep at the mansion. They take shifts so there are many more he can call in."
"Good. What about safes or secret stashes?"
"I don't know. When I was there, I was always accompanied by one of his guards. I bet he'll have something in his room, but I don't know where and what kind of safe it is."
"Thank you," Dutch pocketed the paper and turned to Arthur, "Let's go."
"Be careful," said Grace.
"Always," Arthur took her hand and kissed her, "I'll see you later." He followed Dutch, ignoring the stares from him and the other gang members. No point in hiding his relationship with Grace now.
Dutch remained silent until they had ridden away from the camp. "So, you and her, huh?"
"What of it?"
"Nothing, I guess this means you'll be leaving us?"
"Of course not." Not right now, Arthur thought to himself.
"So that's just one more person we have to worry about?"
"She can take care of herself."
"But is she with us or against us?"
"Considering she's still doing her damndest to get the Pinkertons off our tail, I'd say she's with us."
"Are you sure that's what she's doing?"
"What's with you, Dutch?" Arthur frowned.
"I feel like I'm going in circles with all of you," Dutch replied, frustrated, "Micah is the only one left with any loyalty."
"Now, that ain't fair."
"You think Micah would question going after Bronte? No, he'd say, 'let's go'."
"I'm here, ain't I? I've been at your side for twenty years."
"I know, I..." Dutch sighed, "I'm sorry, son. It's just the endless debate about everything is wearing me down. The others I can take, but when you're not behind me, it hurts."
"I'm behind you."
Dutch was silent for a moment. "Are you happy with her?"
"Yes."
"So you trust her?"
"With my life."
"Huh. Well, here we are, let me do the talking."
They arrived in Lagras where Dutch introduced Arthur to Thomas, the boatman who would take them to Bronte's mansion. Thomas asked them to help check the crayfish traps as they searched for Thomas's business partner, Jules. They eventually found Jules hiding up a tree with his skiff caught in a log, claiming there was a monster in the swamp. Thomas scoffed at the idea of a monster, but when Jules was attacked while freeing the boat which had gotten stuck, they quickly changed their minds.
Biggest goddamn gator Arthur had ever seen, and he and Dutch had used up almost all of their ammunition trying to bring it down. Jules had been bitten in the leg, but he should live to see many more days.
"When you're ready to go, I'll be here," said Thomas after they brought Jules back to the docks and he was taken off the boat.
"Thanks, I'll go and get the boys ready and we'll do this tomorrow night," said Dutch.
"Mr. Bronte, he's a bad man. Killed lots of folks, hurt a lot of people," said Thomas, "Jules even said they killed a housemaid or someone like that. Shot her in the back of the head, threw her body into the swamp. He tried to find the poor girl, but her body never surfaced. Guess those gators got her."
"Bad business. You coming, Arthur?"
Arthur nodded and followed Dutch back to camp. Dutch spent the whole ride talking about Bronte and how much he looked forward to meeting him one last time. Arthur was only half listening, thinking about what Thomas had said about the girl who had been shot. It was exactly what that Italian man outside of Saint Denis had said to Grace.
"You were shot in the head! Thrown in the swamps!"
It didn't make any sense.
They arrived back at camp to a very angry Micah being taunted by Bill and Uncle.
"I never heard someone squeal so loud!" Uncle laughed.
"Shut up!"
"What's going on?" Dutch asked after he dismounted.
"Micah made a move on Arthur's girl," Bill smirked. Arthur clenched his fists, using all his willpower to not immediately start beating Micah into the ground.
"And?" Dutch raised his eyebrows.
"And Grace somehow got him on the ground and shoved her knife between his legs," Uncle was nearly doubled over in laughter, "Wooo, said she'd castrate him if he so much as looked at her funny."
"What are you going to do about her, Dutch?" Micah demanded.
"Me?" Dutch looked over at Arthur who was still glaring, then back at Micah, "Well, seems to me you need to cool off."
"What? She threatened me!"
"Micah, just go compose yourself, and then apologise to her."
"What about her?"
"I'll talk to her," Dutch assured Micah, who glared back at Arthur then stalked off. Dutch then turned to Arthur. "I doubt he'll be trying that again."
"Don't know why you still keep him around," Arthur said angrily.
"Because he's loyal and he's a good man. Now why don't you go talk to Grace about threatening Micah." Dutch patted Arthur on the shoulder and headed to the house.
Arthur found Grace sitting alone behind the house.
"Jesus, what happened to you?" she asked, gesturing to his muddy clothes.
"Went wading through the swamps, met the biggest gator I ever saw," he sat next to her, "Heard you had a bit of a run-in with Micah."
"Yeah, he said some not-so-nice things about you," she smiled a bit, "Said he could take care of me, I said no, but he didn't like that very much."
"But you're okay?"
"Of course I am. Besides, even if he did do something, I think the other girls would've strung him up," she laughed, "I thought Abigail was going to take my knife and do the job herself."
"Hah, I wouldn't doubt it," Arthur laughed, then took out a couple of cigarettes and offered one to Grace. He lit hers then his own.
"So you're really going through with doing away with Angelo Bronte?"
"Seems so."
"Hm."
"You don't think we should?"
"I don't know, I mean, he's a nasty man, but he also has a lot of pull in Saint Denis, including with the mayor. I wouldn't be surprised if he's put it out there that if anything were to happen to him, then to look for you lot."
"Damn, I never thought of that," Arthur scratched his chin.
"I'd tell you to not go through with it, but I know there's no changing Dutch's mind."
"Yeah."
"Just come back alive," she looked at him earnestly. He took her hand and kissed it as she rested her head on his shoulder.
"So... you remember that Italian feller who kept saying you were shot?"
"Unfortunately."
"Well, this boatman said they saw some girl get shot and thrown in the swamp behind Bronte's mansion."
He felt Grace tense up. "So?"
"So, kind of a coincidence, don't you think?"
"I suppose."
"Do you know who was shot?"
"Yes."
"Who was it?"
"Does it matter?" she leaned forward and finished her cigarette.
"No, I guess not. Guess that feller just got you mixed up with that other poor girl." Arthur tossed his cigarette butt to the side and leaned forward, coughing slightly.
"You've been doing that a lot," she said quietly.
"What?"
"Coughing. You feeling okay?"
"Yeah, it's probably nothing, just fed up with all this swamps."
"Maybe you should change your clothes then," she elbowed him playfully.
"Yeah, guess I should go do that." He didn't move.
"Well? I'm not going to help you," she said. He smirked and placed his hand on her head, using it to push himself up. She smacked at him with a laugh and he headed up to his room to change his clothes.
After he did, Arthur sat on his bed, taking out the small ring box from his satchel, relieved he had had the foresight to keep it with his horse instead of going into the swamp with it. He tapped it with his fingers, looking over at the photo of himself and Grace. If everything goes well, he'll ask her to marry him after they took care of Angelo Bronte. Then they can use her money to get them all out and once they were all safe and free, he can leave with her for a while. He'd come back, of course, but she probably wouldn't mind.
He went back downstairs and found Grace sitting at the campfire with Hosea, Javier, Bill, Uncle, John, Miss Grimshaw, and Tilly. He sat next to her and listened to Javier play his guitar. It was nice, all of them together, and with Grace by his side.
"Well, I think I'm going to turn in," Grace said when Javier had finished.
"Good night, Grace, it was nice talking with you today," said Tilly.
"Likewise, good night, all," she stood up, patted Arthur on the shoulder and headed to the house. Arthur stayed where he was.
"So. Arthur," Uncle leaned forward, "What was it you said last time? 'It ain't like that'," he taunted. "'Cause it sure seems like it."
"I think it's nice," said Tilly, "You seem happy now."
"Heh, guess so," Arthur couldn't help but smile.
"Well she seems to have a good head on her shoulders," said Miss Grimshaw, "Maybe it'll spread around with you fools."
Arthur stayed by the campfire for a short while longer before going up to his room. Grace was already tucked in his bed. He was debating getting in with her when she pulled back the blanket.
"Only if you can behave yourself," she smiled up at him.
"Only if you will," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.
"Damn, I knew there was a catch," she smirked and moved back as far as she could to make room for him on the small bed. He embraced her in his arms as he settled in for the night. "Heh, who would've thought."
"What?"
"Do you remember the first night we spent together?" Grace said, "Up at the frozen lake. I was skating and you just met Flaco Hernandez. We shared a bed then. Never thought it would become a regular occurrence."
"Heh, glad it did," he kissed her forehead.
"Me too," she sighed and snuggled in closer.
The following day, Grace made herself useful around the camp, helping out with the horses and assisting Pearson with the cooking. Arthur spent most of his day discussing the upcoming assault on the Bronte mansion with Dutch, going over as many details as they could.
"We should be ready to leave after we're done," said Arthur, "Tell everyone to pack up and be ready in the morning."
"And what about the bank?" Dutch frowned.
"I already said we have a way to get the money we need."
"But this is a city bank, Arthur, you can't possibly have that kind of money."
"But-"
"I didn't do all this planning for nothing!"
Arthur didn't reply. If only that money hadn't gone missing from his trunk. He was so sure that someone would have mentioned coming across it by now.
Before he knew it, it was time for them to go. Dutch had chosen Bill, Lenny, and John to go along. Arthur kissed Grace goodbye, promising to see her later.
"You better," she said, squeezing his hand as he left.
He rode to Lagras with the others, tuning out Dutch trying to hype them up. He kept thinking about Grace and the ring he had hidden in his trunk. He had written a note to her, in case he didn't come back. But he had no intention of not coming back.
Thomas was already waiting for them when they arrived. Dutch ran through the plan with him as they all climbed into the waiting boat.
"How's Jules?" Arthur asked when Dutch had finished.
"Oh, he'll be fine, be a while before he'll go into the swamp again," said Thomas.
They made their way slowly through the swampy river to the bank behind Bronte's mansion. Dutch instructed Thomas to pick them up at the dock before they scaled the wall and began their assault.
Grace was right that Bronte had increased the number of guards at his house. They seemed to be unending until they were able to breach the doors. Inside there were even more.
Upstairs, Arthur and John cleared the guards and found Angelo Bronte hiding in his private bathroom. He tried shooting them, but his gun had jammed so he threw it at John. He then tried to bribe them, but John punched and knocked him out.
"You can carry him, I ain't touching that piece of shit," he said to Arthur.
Arthur picked up and threw Bronte over his shoulder just as they heard the sound of police whistles approaching. He rushed out the back with the others shooting down the police officers now surrounding the house.
They finally cleared a way to the boat, loaded Bronte's unconscious body in, and got away before any more police showed up. Dutch waited until they got closer to Lagras before waking Bronte up.
"So, big man, we gonna ransom you or what?"
"You are pathetic," Bronte replied, "You are nothing, you do nothing, you mean nothing, you stand for nothing. Me? I run a city, and when the law catch up to you, you will die like nothing."
"I possess things you will never understand," Dutch sneered.
"You don't even possess your own men. A thousand dollars to the man who kills him and sets me free."
No one made a move and Dutch smirked. "What are you gonna say now?"
"They are even bigger fools than you, the law is already on their way, the dogs will sniff you out."
"Oh yeah, they're good at smelling filth, aren't they?" Dutch grabbed Bronte by the back of the neck and leaned him over the boat, "And filth must be disposed of!" He forced Bronte's face into the water. "Your friends the Pinkertons gonna come and rescue you? You repulsive little maggot!" Dutch kept his head under water until he stopped moving. Dutch paused a moment before pushing Bronte's body out of the boat and a nearby gator approached it.
"Jesus, what part of your philosophy books cover feeding a feller to a goddamn alligator, Dutch?" John asked, shocked by what he had just witnessed.
"The part that covers weakness," Dutch replied sternly as they docked the boat and he got out.
Arthur and John looked at the swampy water, now coloured red, before following the others to their horses.
The ride back was silent. When they arrived back at camp, everyone had already turned in for the night except for those standing guard. Dutch immediately went up to his room. Arthur took some time to make his horse comfortable before heading to the house.
"Arthur?" Trelawny appeared from the side of the house.
"Josiah Trelawny, was wondering when you'd show up again."
"I need to talk to you. In private." He seemed more nervous than usual.
"Right now?"
"Right now."
Arthur shrugged and followed Trelawny around the back of the house towards the old graveyard. "Is there a problem?"
"I dare say there may be," Trelawny said, "A while ago, Dutch asked me to look into Grace's past, see if she's on the up-and-up, so to speak."
"Okay, and?"
"And, well, I wrote to New York and this was their reply." He handed a letter to Arthur. He took it and lit a match so he could read it.
Dear Sir,
There is only one record of a Grace Bellerose from the City of New York and that is Grace Anne Bellerose.
She was born on February 22nd, 1779 and died during childbirth in November 1800 in Goodfellows, Upper Canada (now the province of Ontario, Canada). Her two children, both unnamed, did not survive.
There are no further records of any other Grace Bellerose having been born or having lived in the City of New York or the State of New York since 1800 as the Bellerose family has forbidden anyone to use the name. The reason is a private family matter.
The Bellerose family do not wish to be contacted regarding Grace Anne Bellerose.
Regards,
Robert Carlton, New York Genealogical Society
Arthur re-read the letter again, not knowing what to think.
"I'm sorry, Arthur."
"Have you told Dutch?" Arthur demanded.
"No, I felt you needed to know first."
"Don't tell anyone," Arthur said angrily, "And I mean not a soul. Especially not Dutch."
"On my honour, dear boy," Trelawny promised, and left.
Arthur re-read the letter once more. It couldn't be true. But if it was, it meant one thing.
The Grace he had fallen in love with was a fraud.