Isaac sat down at the campfire beside Charles and watched him sharpen the head of an arrow. He didn't glance over or acknowledge Isaac in any way. Tho Isaac got the impression Charles wasn't intentionally ignoring him but rather he was just lost to his own worries and thoughts.

"where's, um do you know where Arthur is?" He asked softly, voice cracking with morning disuse.

"He's still talking with Dutch and Hosea."

Isaac nodded as he stood up and made his way over to the horses. Charles followed close behind. Isaac didn't know what else to say so he settled for looking over the condition of his saddle.

Charles remained quiet as he brushed a hand over Harlin's forelock.

Isaac sighed. He didn't want Arthur to give up the life he had built here, with these people, his family. The bond between Charles and Arthur especially.

Isaac watched the other out of the corner of his eye. They hadn't even left camp yet and Charles was already lost and listless. It gnawed at him to know he was responsible for severing whatever existed between them.

Hosea's words echoed in his mind. "If you send this boy away you'll lose Arthur for sure." Looked like Dutch wasn't the only one to lose him.

"Do you know if, Arthur and John were able to find my saddle pad in Annesburg?" Isaac asked trying to distract the man.

"Not sure, I, Kieran should know," Charles replied. "I'll go ask him."

As Charles disappeared Isaac leaned against Harlin. The thoroughbred responded by bringing his head back to lip at Isaacs's new shirt. The one made especially for him by the girls.

"Here's your saddle pad." Kieran said coming up behind him. "would you like me to finish tacking him up for you?" he offered.

"um sure."

Kieran smiled sadly as he removed the saddle. Harlin's ears twitched momentarily before laying back calmly.

"He's a good horse." Kieran commented. An artificial happiness to his voice, obviously trying to cheer Isaac up.

"Yeah he is." was all Isaac could reply.

"If you don't mind me asking. Why were you using this?" Kieran said as he pulled the old blanket off the horse's back.

"The saddle pad got dirty as I was traveling, looking for Arthur." he whispered the last bit. "I took it off and washed it in the river and used the blanket while this was drying. I got arrested before I could swap them back out."

Isaac adjusted the pad on Harlins back as Kieran moved to get the saddle. It was all happening so fast. As soon as they were packed, they'd have to leave. And Isaac just wanted to cling to this place even more.

"Do, do you know if I can get the blanket washed quick before we, um before we leave?"

"Yeah," Charles said from his place against the wagon. The arrowhead he had been sharpening now whittled down to something resembling a pencil. "Shouldn't be a problem, just give it to one of the girls."

Isaac nodded numbly and wandered towards where they should be, all the while Charles ghosted after him. It was possible Charles was just being hypervigilant and overprotective in making sure Isaac couldn't run away again but that didn't account for the man's sudden lackluster energy. Charles usually moved with purpose and intention but now he was a touch slower, his steps a bit heavier, eye-level a smidge lower. It saddened Isaac further to note the same symptoms were mirrored in his father.

Isaac cleared his throat shily as he approached Tilly. "do you need anything Isaac?" She asked. Her sweet accent distracting him from his inquiry.

"Um, yeah, could I get this washed before we leave?." He couldn't help the blush that crept up his face as she smiled softly up at him.

Tilly's smile widened, not mocking him but in a soft kind of way that sent butterflies free in his stomach. "Sure," she said politely. Isaac looked down at the blanket as he felt their hands briefly touch. At the soft contact, he felt his blush deepen.

"Perhaps they are related," He heard Karen mumble, "They certainly have the same type." Isaac was about to make a hasty retreat back to the horses when Mis Grimshaw plucked the blanket from Tilly's grasp.

"Where did you get this?" She demanded, parting the folded fabric to get a better look at it.

"Ah, I'm sorry, it's a blanket I used it as a saddle pad when the other one got dirty."

"Your blanket?" She said and he nodded mutely. "Where did you get it?"

"From home."

She stared at him a moment leaving Isaac to gape in confusion. He became even more confused when a wry smile crossed her lips. "come with me." she ordered, marching off towards the large white tent Dutch lived in. She didn't even announce herself as she barged in, Dutch, Hosea, Arthur and John all in some kind of conference.

"Good evening-" Dutch began cordially but stopped abruptly as Mis Grimshaw unceremoniously dropped the blanket in a pile on the desk.

"You need to have a look at this." she coxed coyly. Bewildered glances were shared by all as Isaac hung back in the doorway with Charles at his side.

Mr. Van Der Linde leaned forward in his chair to better examine the object. "Mis Grimshaw." he sighed, "I really don't have the time for..."

"Oh good grief," she scolded, cutting him off again. " Look, Right here." her bony finger pointing at a warn and frayed corner. "It's been monogrammed with the initials I. M."

Dutch hesitated before shaking his head. "Mis Grimshaw, that could belong to anyone. Initials aren't exclusive."

"I know it COULD belong to anyone but it doesn't, I know because I'm the one who made it." she paused, pulling a corner of fabric closer to Dutch. "And Look closer, this is a patchwork quilt made from the scraps of old vests, coats, and dresses. Vests and coats, I might add, that not only uses to belong to YOU but to Mr. Matthues and Mr. Morgan as well. And the bits of dresses were from myself, Annabel and Bessy. Mr. Van Der Linde, this is a quilt WE made for Eliza... for Isaac.

"yes but-" Dutch began before he was cut off again, this time by Hosea.

"You may be able to argue a few things are coincidental but when you add everything together. Dutch, Think!" Hosea's voice cracked as he leaned forward and pounded his fist on the table in impatient frustration. "Think about how perfectly the boy's story lines up to what could have happened. How does he know names he shouldn't? And even if Micha had coached him, Micah never would have known what Arthur looked like at that age. Their similarities are far too striking for Micah to have just happened upon this boy. But I believe Micah's interest in him is just more proof that he is the real Isaac."

The room fell quiet, everyone letting Hosea's words take root. Slowly Dutch reached out to the blanket and gently ran a hand along a particular floral printed square of fabric, lost to whatever memory the fabric triggered.

Hosea slumped forward tiredly and gingerly reached a hand out to gently shake Dutch from the dazed stooper he had fallen into. "One or two coincidences you may be able to ignore but they are mounting up. You have to face it, Dutch. Even you have to admit this is too much." Hosea took a shaky breath as Dutch finally looked him in the eye." you wanted proof, my friend. Well, this is it."

Nodding stiffly Dutch cleared his throat before turning to fully face Isaac. "It appears I owe you an apology, Mr. Morgan."

The boy felt electric as he looked to Arthur. Isaac's mouth gaped open, speechless to find an easy smile on his father's face and his eyes, soft, calm and kind. "I told you," Arthur said gently beneath the hooded shadow of his hat. "I know who you are. I don't need proof."