Arthur couldn't sleep. He couldn't even go back into the house. He kept re-reading the letter. He was angry. Angry at Dutch for going behind his back. Even more angry at Grace, if that was even her real name, for lying to him.

Morning came quickly and the others started waking up. Grace came downstairs and greeted him happily, but he didn't reply.

"What's wrong?" she asked, worried, "What happened last night?"

"I- Let's go for a ride," he said, pushing past her.

"Okay," she frowned and followed him.

He tacked up Smokey quickly and waited for Grace to mount up on Tuula, then led the way out of camp. He kicked Smokey into a gallop.

"Arthur! Stop!" Grace yelled at him, but he kept going. "Stop! Talk to me!"

He yanked back on the reins, sliding Smokey into a stop. His horse threw his head, agitated at the rough handling.

"Jesus, what's wrong? What happened?" Grace stopped by him, looking worried.

He dismounted next to the old battlefield where they had stopped and walked to one of the ruined buildings. Grace followed him.

"Arthur? Are you okay?"

"You lied to me."

"Excuse me?"

"You lied to me," he glared at her.

"I have never lied to you," she frowned.

"All that stuff about having twins who died and a fiance who kicked you out and everything was a lie, wasn't it?"

Grace slapped him hard across the face. "I have never lied to you, especially not about that. How dare you even suggest I did!"

"Then explain this!" He took out the letter and thrust it into her hands. Grace read it and went pale. "This poor girl died all them years ago and you just pretend to be her? I've done some low things in my life-"

"Arthur-"

"So what was the plan then? Wait until the bounty was high enough and turn us all in? Huh?"

"No, I-"

"I fell in love with you! I was going to marry you and we was going to get everyone out and then we'd run away together! I can't believe I was stupid enough to believe that."

"Would you shut up?" Grace yelled at him, tears now forming in her eyes. "Just... let me explain."

"I can't wait to hear this," Arthur leaned against the stone wall with his arms crossed. "Well? Go on then."

Grace took a deep breath and held up the letter. "I really am Grace Anne Bellerose. I was born in 1779 and I did die in 1800. I mean, I didn't, but I did, only I didn't... Oh, I don't even understand myself!" She paused, then continued. "I gave birth to two dead babies, and it was too much and I died too.

"You know how they say that when you die, there's supposed to be a light and it's heaven and it's wonderful? Well, when I died, there was no light. No light, no darkness, just... nothing. And then there was a voice that said 'Not yet'. And I found myself back alive again."

"You've got to be kidding," Arthur scoffed.

"It's true! You asked about this scar, here on my head?" she pushed back her hair to show the scar on her temple. "I shot myself because I couldn't cope with being on my own. I've hung myself," she pointed at the thin scars under her jaw, "I've poisoned myself, I've even drowned myself. But it was the same damn thing every time. Nothing and 'Not yet' and I was back again.

"What's it going to take for me to actually die and stay dead? Be burned to ash? Cut up into a million pieces? I don't even know what they mean by 'Not yet'!

"I thought maybe I had to do something, help someone, do something good to be able to pass on. I've spent a hundred years trying to figure this shit out! And I'm still here! When I met you back in Blackwater, I thought... I thought maybe I should help you find the good man inside. But then I got to know you and instead of befriending you for my own selfish reasons, I befriended you because I liked you.

"I never meant to fall in love with you, but I did. And I certainly didn't mean for you to feel the same about me. I shouldn't have let it go as far as it did. I'm so sorry, Arthur."

Arthur was silent for a moment. "You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's true! All of it."

"Oh, come on, all that nonsense about dying and not staying dead?"

"You've seen it!" she yelled angrily, "I drowned saving John and Jack that day of the storm. I died from the gunshot when you robbed the bank in Valentine. And I was the one Bronte had shot behind his house and thrown into the swamps." She indicated the scar at the back of her head.

"But-"

"Every time you saw me after those incidents, I looked sick, didn't I?"

"That don't prove nothing."

"Then I'll prove it now." She suddenly lunged at him, grabbing at his pistol from his holster. He was surprised, but grabbed her hands to push her away from his gun. She started kicking at him and pushing back until he shoved her hard and she fell back against the opposite wall, hitting her head on the stones.

"Jesus," Arthur watched as she fell to her knees, holding her head, "Just... what is wrong with you?" he yelled. "Trying to kill yourself just to prove a point?"

"I won't stay dead," she said quietly.

"Well I won't be made a fool again."

Grace didn't move. "I guess this is it, then," she said sadly, looking down at her hands.

"I guess it is," Arthur turned to leave.

"I was right, though." Arthur glanced back to see her looking up at him. "I always said you were going to leave me."

He stared at her for a moment, then turned away without saying another word. He could hear her quietly sobbing as he rode away. He wasn't going back to camp yet. His eyes stung, and he felt sick. What nonsense. What a mess.

He rode until he reached an ruined building in a field. He stopped, dismounted, and took out his pistol, firing it angrily at the walls. He kept reloading and firing until he ran out of ammunition and threw the gun hard at the wall. He then punched the wall, wincing at the pain. He leaned back against it and slid down to sit. He removed his hat and wiped his sleeve on his forehead. The feathers Grace had put in his hat's band were still there. He tore them out, crumpled them in his hand, and tossed them aside.

Arthur didn't know how long he sat there for. The sun was hidden behind thick clouds. He wiped his face of the sweat that had accumulated, picked up his gun, and returned to his horse.

As he returned to camp, he passed by the battlefield. Grace and Tuula were no longer there and he briefly wondered where she had gone, but shook his head. He shouldn't even care anymore. He rode into camp, hoping no one would talk to him.

"Hi, Uncle Arthur!" Jack ran up to him as he crossed the footbridge, "Where's Miss Grace?"

"Oh, uh, she had to leave," Arthur said.

"When will she be back?"

"I... I don't know," Arthur couldn't bring himself to tell Jack she was never coming back.

"Oh, okay," Jack's face fell and he wandered away.

Arthur went up to his room and picked up the photo of him and Grace. All that time spent together, and he had no idea. He tightened his grip on the photo and stormed downstairs and out the back. He stopped at the dock, lit a match, and set the picture on fire, before throwing it into the swamp. At least he found out before he had proposed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and returned to the house.

"Trouble in paradise, Morgan?" Micah sneered at him.

"Shut up, Micah," Arthur pushed past him.

"Wouldn't fuck you, huh?"

Arthur clenched his jaw and continued walking.

"Yeah, I knew there weren't something right about her. Told Dutch she's probably running off to tell the Pinkertons everything."

Arthur grabbed Micah by the shirt and slammed him against the side of the house. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Heheh, don't I? Dutch wants to speak to you."

Arthur glared at him before letting him go with a shove. He entered the house and found Dutch and Hosea at a table on the main floor, looking over a map of Saint Denis.

"Where's Grace?" asked Hosea.

"She... she had to leave," Arthur replied.

"Nothing problematic, I hope," Dutch said.

"No, it's just... we- she needs some time."

"Okay, well, we need to discuss the bank," Dutch leaned forward on the table, "I assume you're still on board?"

"Of course."

"Good. So I've sent Karen, Tilly, and Abigail to have a look," Hosea pointed at the map, "They all said the same thing. No more than one armed guard. We shouldn't have the police to worry about because they'll be heading this way," he pointed at another spot, "when Abigail and I cause the diversion. And that's when we have the opportunity."

"What do you think, Arthur?" Dutch asked.

"Well, I don't see we have a lot of choice," he replied, wishing that money hadn't gone missing from his trunk. While he was never one for turning down a chance to rob a bank, this one made him nervous.

"Best to do it in the day," said Hosea, "If we go at night, we'll make too much noise just trying to get into the bank. They'll pick us off far easier."

"I think I agree," Dutch nodded, "I'm just making sure."

"Every plan is a good plan if we execute it properly," Hosea leaned on the table and looked at Dutch pointedly, "Every problem we had was because we did not execute properly. Even Blackwater, from my understanding."

"You're right," Dutch stood. "Tomorrow, get ready, travel light."

Arthur spent the rest of the day sitting on the back dock. He didn't know how many cigarettes he smoked as he watched some alligators laze about on the other side of the shore. His mind was still trying to comprehend everything.

There's no way Grace, or whatever her real name is, is unable to die. Or stay dead when she dies. Whatever it was she said. It was impossible. He didn't know how she found out about the real Grace Bellerose who died all the way back in 1800. And there had to be another explanation for why she had been sick those times.

She lied to him all this time and he couldn't forgive her for that.

So why did he miss her terribly? He'd felt more sick than usual since he left her that morning.

Somehow it got around the camp that Grace had left, and some assumed she was running immediately to the Pinkertons to turn them in. But Arthur knew she would never do that, even though he had accused her of doing so. Tilly and Mary-Beth tried telling him it was just a bump in the road, that she'd come back. He didn't have the heart to tell them she had been lying.

He turned in earlier than usual, but couldn't sleep until very late. He tried to concentrate on the upcoming bank robbery, but instead he found himself missing her next to him.

The next morning, Hosea woke him up to tell him to wear a business suit. Arthur dressed, restocked his ammunition, and joined the others outside.

"You ready, Arthur?" asked Dutch.

"Sure," he watched Hosea and Abigail, both dressed nicely, climb up onto a stagecoach. John stood by nervously.

"Well, let's get out of this godforesaken place and rob ourselves a bank," Hosea called out as they started out.

Arthur followed on his horse, only half-listening to Dutch go over the plan again. He felt nervous about this whole thing, but Hosea sounded confident before he and Abigail went ahead to set up their diversion.

As they rode into the city, he couldn't help but look around for her.

"Nice and easy through town now, boys," Dutch said. Arthur put Grace out of his mind and forced himself to concentrate on the task ahead. He couldn't let Dutch down. They hitched their horses down the road from the bank.

"Gentlemen, robbing thieves, it ain't no crime at all," Dutch gathered them around, "Folk like this, they stole what this country could have been. Stay cool, fellers. Act natural. Wait for Hosea to do his thing."

"This'd better work," Micah said.

"Looks like there's law over the other side," John pointed out.

"Have a modicum of faith, John, will you please?" Dutch said, annoyed, "Soon as we get out, load everything onto the wagon here."

A few moments later, an explosion rocked through the city. The lawmen John had pointed out immediately ran towards the commotion, clearing the way for them to go to the bank. At the door, they covered their faces and took out their guns before bursting in.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dutch shouted, "This is a hold up!" They forced the bank customers and employees into the back while Arthur grabbed the bank manager and pushed him to the vault.

"Open it!" he yelled, pointing his gun at the bank manager's head.

The bank manager was shaking as he turned the safe dial and finally got it open. Arthur entered and unlocked a second safe and began loading his bags. Dutch loaded his with gold bars until John called from outside that the law had arrived.

"Think we got a problem out here!" John called out. Dutch and Arthur approached the window with their guns drawn.

"Come out! It's over!" a familiar voice yelled from outside.

"Shit, Abigail," John said, worried.

"Dutch! Get out here!" Agent Milton appeared, pushing Hosea in front of him at gunpoint, "Get out here now!"

"Someone must have squealed," Dutch said angrily.

"We never should have gone after Bronte, Dutch," John accused.

"Oh, I think it's someone who left very suddenly yesterday," Micah scowled.

Before Arthur could reply, Dutch called out to the Pinkertons. "Mr. Milton! Let my friend go, or folks are gonna get shot unnecessarily!"

"Your friend? No more deals! No more bargains!"

"Mr. Milton, this is America! You can always cut a deal!"

"I've given you enough chances," Milton pushed Hosea into the street in front of him. As Hosea regained his balance, he turned towards back towards Milton. A sudden movement caught Arthur's eye.

Grace pushed her way through some Pinkerton agents and in front of Hosea as Milton fired his gun. Grace and Hosea both fell to the ground, no longer moving and a pool of blood grew beneath them.

"No! Goddamn it!" Arthur cried out.

"Heh, well, there's your deal, Dutch," Milton taunted.

"Hosea," Dutch said quietly, then yelled, "Goddamn it, kill those bastards!"

Arthur broke the window with his elbow and started shooting at the Pinkertons. Milton, the coward, seemed to have run off already. As he fired his gun, he kept hoping either Grace or Hosea would move. But neither of them did.

The more they shot at the Pinkertons and lawmen, the more that seemed to arrive on site. They couldn't leave through the door, so Dutch ordered Arthur to take some dynamite and blow a hole through the back wall.

After he did so, Arthur was thrown a rifle by Javier and instructed to get to the roof to cover them. He rushed up the ladders and shot at the lawmen. Below him, Grace and Hosea were still exactly where they had fallen. All that crap about not being able to stay dead...

The others finally climbed up to the roof with him.

"Arthur, we lost John," Dutch said.

"Killed?"

"No, arrested, I tried to help, but-"

"Well, we better go or we'll be next," Arthur said, "I reckon me and Lenny try and find a way across the roofs so if you'll cover us."

"Sure," Dutch agreed.

Lenny ran ahead and Arthur followed.

"Come on, we can get across here!" Lenny yelled as he made his way across the roof. Behind him a pair of Pinkerton agents emerged onto the rooftop.

"No, Lenny!" Arthur fired at the Pinkertons but it was too late. They shot Lenny. Arthur shot them dead and ran to his friend. "Dutch, they got Lenny!"

Charles stopped briefly before running ahead. Bill and Micah ran past without looking.

"Oh, goddamn them!" Dutch cried as he ran past, "We can't stop now, Arthur, or we're all dead!"

Javier looked back as he passed, and Arthur gave Lenny a final pat on the shoulder before following everyone. They quickly made their way across the rooftops until they found an open window. The room it led to looked abandoned so they went in.

"I don't believe it," Dutch exasperated when they were in.

"They knew we were coming," Arthur said angrily, "just like your ferry job in Blackwater," he added to Micah.

"Ain't nothing like that," Micah said, "Maybe it was your girlfriend who just got her head shot off."

Arthur lunged at him but was held back by Charles.

"Shut up, both of you!" Dutch hissed, "Keep quiet."

"Well, what now?" asked Bill.

"I don't know," Dutch said, "This whole town is filled with cops."

"Well what are we gonna do, stay here a few hours?" Arthur asked, pulling away from Charles.

"If we go back to camp, they're gonna get every last one of us," Dutch started pacing, "I know they're gonna be watching the roads." He paced more as he thought. "I got it... a boat. We stay here till night fall, then we sneak on down to the docks, we get ourselves outta here."

"Yeah, but where?" asked Bill.

"Anyplace will do, that's all I got," Dutch shooed Charles out of a chair and sat down. "We leave, we lie low, we come back for the rest in a few weeks."

They had no choice but to agree. They all knew they'd be shot dead if they tried to go anywhere at that time.

Arthur sat against the wall. Goddamn it. John. Lenny. Hosea. Grace. He was so angry with her, but he realised now that he still loved her. He didn't know whether to believe all that stuff she said, but she got herself killed just trying to save Hosea. She didn't deserve that. Even if she did lie about everything, she was still a good person.

They waited until well after sunset before leaving. It was raining so they hoped there wouldn't be too many patrols out. They managed to make it to the docks with a few close calls, hiding behind wagons and in train cars. There seemed to be more patrols at the docks.

There was a group of lawmen standing between them and a boat to freedom. Charles immediately offered to distract them so the rest could get to the boat. Arthur protested, but Charles had already gone. The lawmen chased him, providing an open path.

They boarded a boat and hid amongst the cargo and waited until it set sail.

"So what we gonna do now?" Arthur asked Dutch, watching the sky getting lighter.

"Guess I'm going to introduce myself to the captain," Dutch nodded at a crewman who had appeared at the railing nearby to have a smoke, "Give him some of this gold to secure his silence and find out where we're heading."

Arthur watched as Dutch emerged from hiding and approached the crewman, putting on the charm. Arthur shook his head, but maybe now things will start looking up.

When Dutch returned a short time later, he told Arthur and the rest that they were heading to a port in northern Cuba. There they'll be able to slip ashore, wait a short bit, and then secure passage back to the United States. Dutch gave his usual spiel about loyalty which Arthur tuned out. He'd heard it a million times before. He just hoped that Charles was able to get away from the lawmen. They'd lost enough people already.

Later that night, they were awoken by the cries of crewmen and the ship beginning to rock violently.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked as Dutch hauled him out of his bed.

"I don't know, but we are getting off of this boat." Dutch said, urging the others to start moving.

Arthur followed and tried to keep up, but the ship lurched back and forth. He lost his balance a couple of times, and was nearly crushed by some falling cargo crates, separating him from Dutch and the others.

"You okay?" Dutch called out, "This ain't moving."

"I'm okay," Arthur tried to push the crates but it was no use, "You go on ahead, I'll find another way." He turned and tried to make sense of where he was going. All this rocking was making him feel even more sick, He went back to find a path up to the deck. More crates were falling. Then something else caught his eye.

Grace stood in a doorway he hadn't noticed before. But... how was she here? Her long, black hair was loose and she was wearing a long white dress. The pitching of the ship didn't seem to affect her. He stumbled towards her and she gave him a small smile. A lantern flickered and suddenly she was gone.

"No, come back," he coughed as he reached the doorway. Stairs led the way up to the deck, which was on fire. Crewmen were racing back and forth in a panic, while some were trying to put out the fires.

Arthur fell against the railing and saw a rowboat drifting away. He could just see Dutch, Bill, Micah, and Javier in it, calling to him. Arthur waved his arms at them just as a wave crashed into the rowboat, capsizing it.

"Goddamnit!" Arthur cried, feeling the ship lurch again. He climbed onto the railing and followed a number of other crewmen in jumping into the cold sea. He struggled to surface again, fighting against the rough waters. When he did, he couldn't see anyone around. The ship was now tilted so much that the flaming cargo crates slid off into the sea.

He tried to keep his head above water, but it was too much. Then everything went black.