I'm back! How was everyone's two weeks?

Isaac and the gang didn't have a good two weeks, I'm afraid.

Chapter 32: Colter

The wind whipped past his face, searing his skin. Snowflakes landed in his eyes and blinded him, adding to the liquid already dripping down and freezing on his cheeks. But Isaac kept digging out the wagon wheels. Even when Hosea tapped his shoulder, shouting over the wind, "Take a break, son," he kept digging. He couldn't stop.

Stopping meant thinking. Stopping meant huddling in the other wagon for warmth next to Davey, who was slowly bleeding to death. And he'd rather freeze while digging out the wagon than freeze while digging Jenny's grave. She'd died quickly, not long after they'd diverted their escape route into the Grizzlies, but they hadn't found the time to bury her until their wagon got stuck in the snowdrift.

Stopping meant remembering that he was up in these mountains while his pa was in Blackwater.

"Son," Hosea tried again. "Isaac."

Isaac shrugged him off yet again, and then Dutch was at their side to say, "Let's try this again! Get the horses back on."

Charles led Boadicea and Ennis over to pull the wagon, a task both racehorses hated. But after three days in the deep, mountain snow, their wagon horses were getting tired, and they started switching them out. Now that John, Javier, and Micah were out scouting for shelter, their horses were even more limited. And since their riders were gone…

Missing, Isaac quickly corrected in his head. They were just missing. Hiding out in better weather, looking for horses to steal so they could catch up. Not dead.

His pa couldn't be dead.

"Together?" Charles said to him, ready to lead Ennis. Isaac nodded, tightening his grip on Boadicea's rope.

"I can do that, Charles," Dutch said.

"I'm fine."

"You shouldn't be using that hand," Dutch insisted, grabbing the rope from him. "Now, on three! One, two…"

Isaac and Dutch backed up, encouraging Bo and Ennis to drag the wagon out of the snow. Ennis protested against Dutch's hold, but Boadicea behaved for Isaac. The wagon creaked, groaned, and finally rolled out of the snowdrift.

"Alright, let's get ready! We need to keep moving, see if we can find shelter!" Dutch announced, his voice barely cutting through the storm. "Charles, could you go see if Bill and Lenny are done? And I swear, if you pick up a shovel…"

Charles could barely bend his fingers around all the bandages, but he still pushed their limits whenever it seemed necessary. Isaac saw the burn that covered his whole palm and up to his second knuckle. It was horrible, probably hurt worse that Isaac could imagine, but Charles kept working.

Stopping meant dying.

Charles returned soon with Lenny and Bill, all three quiet, their faces blank. "We didn't get to make a marker," Lenny said.

"We will," Dutch said. "We can make something and come back. You pick a spot you'll recognize?"

"I think so," Lenny said.

"We won't forget her," Dutch continued. "We'll find the spot again."

As if Lenny could forget. He was sweet on Jenny, Isaac knew that. Talked about how he was going to court her once they got out of Blackwater, how he was going to buy her nice things with the money from the robbery.

Isaac wished he could drive the wagon, just for something to do. Something to focus on that wasn't the memories. But Dutch and Hosea took their place on the first wagon, the one with Davey dying in the back, Pearson drove the supplies, and Susan claimed the last. She pushed him into the back, repeating again and again that he needed to stay out of the snow and get warm, but he didn't think he'd ever be warm. Or cold. He was just numb.

The wagon train halted. "Who goes there?" Dutch shouted into the snow.

"Javier," the man said. "I found a place we can use for shelter. An old mining town, it's abandoned, but better than nothing."

"Come on," Dutch called back to the rest of them.

Most of the town was crumbling, but a few buildings still offered adequate shelter. They all headed towards the largest, Hosea taking the lead to ensure no wild animals or squatters were taking shelter there as well, and the rest trickled in once he gave the all clear. Javier and Bill carried Davey on a stretcher, and Annabelle limped inside on his pa's crutches.

"Miss Gaskill, get that fire lit, quick," Susan ordered. "Miss Jones, bring in whatever blankets we have. Mr. Pearson, see what we have in terms of food."

"Davey's dead," Abigail announced. Isaac squeezed his eyes shut.

"There was nothing more you could have done," said Reverend Swanson.

"What are we going to do? We need supplies," Hosea asked, coughing lightly into his sleeve.

"Well, first of all, you are going to stay here and you are going to get yourself warm," said Dutch. "Now, I sent John and Micah scouting out ahead. Javier and I are going to see if we can find one of them."

Javier glanced out the window. "The storm is getting worse."

"Just for a short bit," Dutch assured him. "I don't see what other choice we have."

Dutch held up his lantern and took in the scared, shivering faces of the gang. "Listen, all of you, for a moment. Now we've had a bad couple of days. I loved Davey, Jenny. Sean, Mac… Arthur."

Isaac's breath hitched.

"They might be okay, we don't know. But we lost some folks. Now, if I could throw myself in the ground in their stead, I'd do it. Gladly. But we are going to ride out, and we are going to find some food. Everybody, we're safe now. There ain't nobody following us through a storm like this one. And by the time they get here, well, we're going to be long gone. We've been through worse than this before."

And if his pa was following them? Would he ever find them?

"Mr. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp. We may be here for a few days. Now, all of you, get yourselves warm! Stay strong! Stay with me! We ain't done yet!"

With that, Dutch and Javier went back out into the snow, and Miss Grimshaw began directing everyone to set up cots and bring in all their blankets. Isaac turned to get more supplies from the wagons, but Hosea stopped him. "Why don't you help Mary-Beth with that fire? She seems like she's struggling."

He shuffled over to the fireplace where Annabelle and Mary-Beth were trying to light the wood. "These logs are too big," Mary-Beth was saying. "It's not going to catch unless we can get some kindling."

"We won't find anything dry outside," Annabelle said. She hesitated, picking up the crutch. "What if we break this apart?"

"Then how will you-"

"I can get someone to help me, and I don't think I'll need them for too much longer," Annabelle said. "We need the fire lit, and we should save the furniture for when the logs run out."

Isaac wanted to protest. The crutches weren't hers to burn! But she was right, and soon they were gathered in front of a roaring fire. Annabelle lifted the end of her blanket to invite him in. "It's going to be alright," she said. "We'll rest, warm up, then figure out what to do. It's going to be okay, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Isaac muttered.

Annabelle tightened her hug around him. "I know things seem hopeless right now, but we got you. And we're going to keep you safe."

Isaac didn't quite believe that either. But a moment later, Charles entered, saying he got all the horses settled into the barn, and Susan was assigning sleeping arrangements. The boys would take one cabin, the girls would stay in the one they were all in now. "Isaac, sweetheart, do you want to stay with Hosea, Dutch, and Annabelle in that cabin over there?" she asked him.

"That's a good idea," Hosea said before Isaac had the chance to say it wasn't necessary. "Come on, let's get Annabelle over there and check it out."

Annabelle was out cold for most of the first day after they closed up the hole in her leg and made their escape. She was still unconscious when Jenny passed, and drove a terrified Dutch to push even further into the mountains to avoid the law. But she woke up, and it gave them a small spark of hope.

Hosea lifted Annabelle up on one side, and Isaac took the other. "Come on, let's get settled in. Things will be better once this storm blows over and we can figure out where the hell we are."

"I hope Dutch finds John. He shouldn't be out in the snow with his arm."

"Try telling John that. Besides, he made a compelling case to Dutch. Everyone is exhausted, and John wasn't riding the first two days."

And they'd all been worried that they would freeze to death. The more people out looking for shelter, the better.

Annabelle got started lighting the fireplace in their new cabin while Hosea checked out the two rooms. "Might be a bit cramped, but it's better to sleep close together right now. Keep us warm." The last words fell off as Hosea went into a coughing fit.

"Hosea, take a break," Annabelle called out.

"I'm fine. I should help take inventory of our supplies."

"Sit down," she said. "At least until Dutch gets back."

"Fine."

Isaac hoped that his pa was sitting around a fire, too. Holed up in some cabin somewhere, waiting out the storm so that he could catch up. But the mountains… that wasn't the plan. They were supposed to go to New Austin. He had to ask. "How is Pa going to find us?"

"There are a few methods," Hosea replied. "Knowing your father, he's probably sitting outside Armadillo somewhere wondering where we all are. Once we find somewhere safe, I'll send a few letters out that way letting him know we got chased out east. Hell, he might figure that out on his own. And sometimes, when folk wandered off in the past, we put ads out in the paper. One of our aliases looking for workers for some vague purpose and give a town for receiving letters. We found Sean that way once, remember?"

"I guess."

They settled in for a while. Isaac was just starting to fall asleep, the exhaustion of the last few days hitting hard and fast, when there was a shout outside. "Hey, somebody is coming!" Hosea jumped up, a hand on his gun, but then Lenny said, "Looks like it's Dutch. Hey everybody, Dutch is back!"

"Stay here, I'll make sure everything is alright," Hosea said, but Isaac was already following him out the door. "How'd you get on?" Hosea asked.

"Micah found a homestead, but he weren't the first," Dutch started, and Isaac felt a pang of disappointment. He wanted John back, wanted his reassurances that everything would be alright. John never lied to him. And Isaac wanted to make sure he was safe, at least.

"Colm O'Driscoll and his scum, they beat us to it," Dutch continued. "We found some of them there, but there is more about apparently, scouting a train."

That's the last thing we need right now, Dutch," Hosea said nervously, with a glance at Isaac. God, he hoped his pa was holed up somewhere nice and warm and not in the mountains alone near O'Driscolls.

"Well, it is what it is," Dutch said. "But we found some supplies, some blankets, a little bit of food, and this poor soul, Mrs. Adler. Miss Tilly, Miss Karen, would you warm her up, giver her a drink of something?"

Isaac took in the new woman, another victim of O'Driscolls. She shook under the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, from the cold and from terror. Her eyes darted around the group like a cornered animal, torn between running and lashing out. But she followed Tilly and Karen to the cabin, reluctantly accepting help.

"And Mrs. Adler, it's going to be okay. You're safe now," Dutch continued. "They turned her into a widow. Animals. I need some rest, I haven't slept in three days."

"You're over here, with Isaac and Hosea. Anna is waiting inside," Susan said. "Mr. Bell, you're with the fellers over there."

Micah sputtered, "How come the kid gets a room?"

Isaac ignored him, and went back to his cabin. The roaring fire did little to warm the frigid air, but he supposed it was better than nothing. He settled into the bed alone, tried to block out Hosea still talking with Dutch by the hearth, and cried.

Arthur wasn't sitting around a fire. And he wouldn't for some time. Fire would attract the law and bounty hunters, so it was a risk they couldn't take. And besides, they had to lose their tail, first. "Get up, I'm gonna need you to walk," Arthur said, shaking Sean's shoulder.

Sean groaned. The kid had a concussion, he knew, but Mac was still bleeding. Arthur couldn't carry both of them.

"Right now, Sean. Just for a bit, then we'll rest." A lie, but it sort of worked. Sean pulled himself out of the wagon, swaying once his feet were under him but still upright. Arthur shoved him into the woods before dragging Mac over his shoulder. "Go, Rory!" he whispered harshly to the horse, and he felt a pang of guilt when Rory listened. Arthur bought him for Eliza, and he didn't know if he'd be able to find him again. But he was relying on the bounty hunters following the wagon wheels and not their footprints. Even if only bought them a few minutes, it was a few minutes more than they currently had.

Arthur led the way into Tall Trees. Sean struggled through his concussion, and Arthur struggled with carrying Mac. More than once he had to take a second to breathe and lean against a tree, his leg shaking, not used to the distance or the weight. But after a second, Arthur forced himself to keep moving, until even Sean noticed the problem.

"We should stop, English."

"Not yet."

"You can barely walk straight."

"You only think that because you can't see straight."

"Well, maybe I need to stop, then," Sean said, collapsing against a rock. His face was completely drained of color, and he was sweating and panting far too much.

"Fine," Arthur said. "I should check on Mac."

Arthur settled Mac on the ground, and had to place his head on Mac's chest to make sure his friend was still breathing. He was, shallow and wheezy. The hastily applied bandages were already soaked in blood. Mac couldn't afford to lose any more.

"Hey, Mac, can you wake up for me?" Arthur said, tapping Mac on the cheek. "Come on, sleeping ain't a good idea right now."

Mac let out a small noise, too weak for Arthur to call a cough.

"That's it, open your eyes, alright?" Arthur continued, still tapping his face.

"Ar… thur?"

"That's it. Wake up and keep breathing."

"Where?"

"Tall Trees. We're just taking a breather, then we have to keep moving."

"Can't," Mac groaned.

"Yes, you can. Just going to fix some of these bandages, and then we'll keep moving. I'll carry you."

"No." Mac's eyes fell shut again.

"Yes. Come on, now, don't give up on me." Arthur shook Mac's shoulder, but Mac's eyes remained closed. Then, his stomach heaved, and Arthur quickly turned Mac onto his side before he choked on his own vomit.

And blood. There was blood mixed in, blood staining his lips as he kept coughing. Arthur blinked, but the blood was still there, mocking him.

He couldn't fix this.

"Okay, Mac, just hang on, we'll rest for a bit, okay? Sean, can you make us a camp? No fire, just a bit of shelter."

"Alright," Sean said, disappearing into the woods to find large branches.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Mac wheezed.

"Yeah, it's bad," Arthur said, settling down next to him. "I ain't quite sure what to do."

"Me, neither."

"You just try to stay awake. Let me worry about the rest?"

"You really think… staying awake… is going to change anything?" Mac panted. "Don't lie, Morgan."

Arthur sighed. "No, I really don't think it will."

"Good run, though, right?"

"Yeah, we had one hell of a run," Arthur said, smiling wide. "Wish we could have gotten our ranch."

"Yeah… Hey, when you see Davey… tell him I was doing something heroic, okay?" Mac said.

"Heroic, huh? You were trying to go back for Sean, weren't you?" Arthur asked.

"Sure. Just tell a Hosea story, alright?"

"Alright, I'll do my best," Arthur said.

The bushes nearby rustled and swayed, and Arthur tensed. But it was just Sean coming back with two sturdy branches. "I think we can make a lean-to out of this," he said.

"I'll help you."

They were able to set everything up before dark, and by then, Mac was starting to shiver. Arthur wrapped his coat around him, but he knew that wouldn't change anything. It was the blood loss. "How are you feeling?" he asked hesitantly.

"Don't really feel anything," Mac said. "Just cold."

"Let's see if we can help that," Arthur said, lying down next to Mac and pulling him close. "Better?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I got you, Mac. Don't you worry about a damn thing."

Arthur tried staying awake for as long as possible, though it wasn't easy while lying down. He strained his ears for footsteps over Mac's shallow breathing in his ear, forcing his eyes open to look for shadows moving across the trees in the moonlight, but for the first moment since the robbery began that morning, the forest was silent. He didn't mean to fall asleep, in case Mac needed him, but deep down he knew it wouldn't matter.

Mac was dead by sunrise. Arthur sent Sean to sneak into Manzanita Post and borrow some shovels, and they did their best to give him a proper burial, hasty as it was. The marker was rough, Mac's name crooked when it was carved into the wood, but at least it was something to let the world know that a friend was lying there, and that someone had cared for him.

And after, they kept walking.