This chapter includes our first mention of Tahiti and my own realization that I never decided how old Annabelle is LOL!

Chapter 47: Honeymoon

John tightened his arms around Abigail, snuggling into her. They decided to spend the night at a hotel in Rhodes, and while the loud ruckus from the bar was annoying, they still got to enjoy some alone time. And sleep in late in the morning.

"John? Are you awake?" Abigail asked.

"Sort of, I guess," he said.

"Should we head back?"

"Abigail, this is our first night to ourselves since… ever!"

"I miss Jack," she said. "You think he's okay?"

"He's probably playing with the dog and chasing bugs on the beach," John said. "Jack is fine."

"I guess. But I still miss him."

"Can we sleep in a little longer?"

Abigail laughed and made no move to get up. For a while, at least, but they had to return to reality eventually. John picked her up and placed her on Old Boy, and they made the short trip back to camp.

"So, Arthur and Charles?" Abigail said, arms tight around John's middle. "I didn't even realize they were courting each other!"

"Me, neither," John said. "I didn't know Arthur liked men!"

"I guess we know what they were doing on all those hunting trips," Abigail said teasingly.

They got back to a very hungover camp soon after. Tilly was the only one awake, sort of, but only to watch Jack throw sticks for Cain. "Mama! Pa!" he shouted, running over to them with his arms wide.

Abigail kneeled down and caught him in a hug. "Did you have fun with Aunt Tilly?" she asked.

"Uh huh! We had a great time!"

Then, Arthur wandered out of his tent, looking a little stiff. John smirked. "So, are you sore?" he asked.

"Shut up, John."

"And where's your husband?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Still in there. I though I'd let him sleep. How was your night?"

"It was nice," John said. "The Parlour House ain't too bad, if you and Charles are looking for a place to spend the night."

"John," Arthur growled.

"Arthur," John said with a wide grin.

"John! You're back!" Dutch said. "Could you go see Trelawny? He's in a caravan just outside town. Find out what he knows about these bounty hunters."

"He just got back, Dutch," Hosea said.

"I know, but you know how Trelawny is. I need John to see him. Take Charles with you. Oh, the two of you together could make a statue sing out its secrets."

"Okay, I guess," John said. "I've got to wake Charles."

"Let me," Arthur said. "You spend a little time with your kid. I'll send him over when he's ready."

John threw sticks for Cain with Jack for a few minutes while Arthur shook Charles awake and gave him some coffee. But he couldn't stop from looking over to Dutch's tent. Dutch was pacing in front of his tent while Annabelle tried to talk him down. He understood why Dutch was nervous, but did it have to be him?

Charles came over soon after, awake but tired. "Ready?" he asked John.

"Yeah, you?"

"Sure," Charles said.

They mounted up and headed towards Rhodes. John considered keeping his mouth shut for a moment, then decided to ask. "Did you have a good night?"

"It was nice," Charles said.

"How nice?"

"So, Trelawny," Charles said, changing the subject. "I've only met him a couple of times, but he's a strange one."

"Yeah, he is," John said. "But he's harmless, mostly. Usually finds us the high paying jobs. Then, he scurries off. No one knows where he goes, really. But he brings in enough money that Dutch doesn't seem to care."

John hoped this would be a quick visit to Trelawny. The man probably embellished the bounty hunter stories that got Dutch so worried.

But for once, Trelawny wasn't lying. John just wished he'd found out before the rope tightened around his neck in the middle of a cornfield.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Charles asked for what felt like the tenth time. Charles rescued him, but his neck throbbed with what would likely be a very purple bruise.

"I'll be okay. Just surprised me, that's all."

His neck would probably have the same bruises as the last time someone had put a rope around his neck. At age twelve. For robbing a homestead.

Arthur spotted them as soon as they returned, and he saw the rope marks, too. "What happened?" he asked.

"Oh, John," Abigail said.

"I'm fine. I'll be fine, I promise," John said, his voice rasping a little. Great, it hurt his voice, too.

"Let me take care of him, Abigail," Arthur said. He dragged John over to his tent, waving Hosea over, too.

"It's not that bad," John said.

"What happened?" Arthur asked again.

"Trelawny got himself kidnapped by bounty hunters. Don't worry, we killed them. But one of them got a rope around my neck. Charles saved my life."

"May I see?" Hosea said. John nodded, and Hosea gently felt his neck. "I might have something to help with the bruising and the pain. Stay here."

"Are you sure you're okay, John?" Arthur asked.

John hesitated, then shook his head no. Arthur squeezed his shoulder. "We got them all, but if those idiots could find Trelawny, how many more are there?"

"I don't know," Arthur said.

"I'm worried we didn't run far enough."

"So am I," Arthur said, wrapping his arm around John's shoulder to give him a quick hug. "I'm worried we're making too much noise here. If the law recognizes Dutch or Micah and alerts the bounty hunters, we're pretty much boxed in."

"But what can we do?" John asked.

"I don't know. At least we don't have to worry about Sheriff Gray arresting anyone. He's too drunk the use handcuffs."

John snorted, wincing a little at the pain in his neck when Hosea walked back in.

"Alright, John, let's see those bruises again. I have some pain reliever, too."

"Nothing too strong, right?"

"It's not bad," Hosea said.

"Good. I don't want to be all fuzzy like after the wolves."

"Sorry, John, but a little bruising isn't worth our morphine," Hosea said, trying to joke. "But seriously, I'm glad you're alright."

For a second, when the rope closed around his neck, John expected that to be it. He was never more happy to see Charles in front of him. Except when Javier and Charles came for him after the wolves, maybe. "Yeah, me too."

"Are there any other injuries I need to know about?" Hosea asked as he finished up.

"No, that's it," John said, letting out a short laugh in relief.

"Good. Take the rest of the day off," Hosea said.

A whole day of sitting around and having everyone fuss over him. There were worse things, he supposed.

After how worried Dutch had been about the bounty hunters, John expected them to pack up and move again. Instead, Dutch praised him for keeping the camp and Trelawny safe before giving a short speech about how they needed more money.

And the next few days weren't too bad. John went out with Lenny to rob some crazy militia of their guns. Lenny did good, though John wished they could have made a little less noise during the robbery. There had to be cash in that giant plantation house! Unfortunately, one of his bullets hit a cache of dynamite, and the explosion probably alerted the entire swamp of the battle.

But not long after that, John went back to Valentine with Bill, Karen, and Lenny to rob the bank, getting about twenty thousand dollars. That led to another party in camp that lasted well into the morning.

If only Annabelle wasn't so sick. She was supposed to join the bank robbery instead of John, but threw up before she even reached her horse.

"You should go to a doctor," Abigail told her the next morning while everyone else nursed their hangovers.

"No, it's nothing. Stomach bug, or something. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, sure you will," Abigail said, rolling her eyes. "You only threw up that tea Hosea made that was supposed to help your stomach. Twice."

"Let me talk some sense into her," Dutch said, trading places with Abigail. "Seriously, though. If this keeps going, I'm taking you to a doctor."

"Where? Rhodes? Or back to Valentine?" Annabelle groaned. "Sure, I'll just grab my horse and ride into town."

"I certainly don't trust these country hicks to treat you properly," Dutch said. "No, we can go to Saint Denis."

"Fine. But only if it doesn't get better," Annabelle said.

"Maybe you just hate the humidity," Arthur called over to them, joining John at the dominoes table with his latest project. Apparently there were panthers hiding in the woods near the Braithwaite Manor. Isaac spotted and shot it. Boadicea bolted with Arthur barely hanging on.

"It is awful," Dutch agreed. "I feel like I'm sweating all night."

"Let's go back north soon. I never thought I'd miss the mountains," Annabelle said.

"Oh, no! We're not going into the snow again! You know, I was reading about this island called Tahiti in the South Pacific. Sounds like paradise!"

"Is it hot and humid?" Annabelle asked.

"It's tropical."

"So, more sweating?" she said, sending him a grin.

"Well, you certainly aren't dying if you're making fun of my ideas," Dutch said.

"We'll just have to drink lots of alcohol to stay cool."

Dutch pressed a hand against her forehead. "Are you sure you're not feverish?"

"I'd rather this be caused by a hangover. Then I'd know it was my fault," she said.

"You didn't drink last night?"

"No. Just the smell of alcohol made me nauseous."

"What if I go and ask a doctor about it?" Arthur said. "Or at least check out the local one to make sure he isn't an idiot."

"Fine," Annabelle said.

"Why don't you come with me, John. I feel like we haven't had much chance to talk lately," Arthur said.

"Alright."

They were barely out of camp when Arthur turned in his saddle and asked, "How are you feeling about things?"

"Uh, what things?" John asked.

"This plan. These two families. The bounty hunters."

"Oh."

What did he think? John was nervous about the law being close, and they hadn't made much money outside the bank job, which wasn't even in Rhodes. Dutch, Micah, and Bill were still pretending to be lawmen for some reason.

"I guess it doesn't make too much sense to me," John finally decided to say. "It feels like we'd be better off moving someplace else. Why?"

Arthur hesitated. "I'm worried about the law finding us. Finding camp and… I'm worried about Isaac and Jack."

John shuddered, thinking about those bounty hunters near his son. "I know what you mean."

"I guess I wanted to see what you thought before I talked to Dutch. You know, make sure it wasn't just me worried."

"Why?" John asked.

"Dutch… he seems to be enjoying playing lawman and swindling these fools. Too much, in my opinion. I just worry that he won't think it's too serious if it's just me."

"Arthur, come on now. It's Dutch! He'll listen to you!" John said.

"Sure, he'll listen. But do something? He knows it's not safe down here. Hell, Anna has been sick since we got down here."

"Okay, but that's not because of the south," John said. "If there was something going around, the rest of us would be sick, too!"

"She's been stressed," Arthur said. "But I suppose you're right. She probably just needs an actual doctor and not Hosea's awful tea. Unless…"

"What?"

"Never mind," Arthur said.

They stopped talking when they got to Rhodes, in case any Grays were around and listening. There was one in town, though, but Arthur knew him.

"Beau, how are you?"

"I've been well, and I was able to get a few messages to my lady love," Beau said, leaning in to whisper the last part. "Though, if you could do me a favor?"

Arthur groaned. "Not more letters, I hope!"

Beau pulled out an envelope. "Just this one. And Penelope's reply. I've been paying Braithwaite servants to help with our exchanges, but I'm afraid of this one falling into the wrong hands."

"What is it?"

"I have a plan to get out of here! We can go up to Boston and start a new life together! I want to see if she can meet me at the train station," Beau said. "Can you bring me her reply at the stables?"

"Alright, just this once," Arthur grumbled. "Then I never want to see you kids again. I ain't following you to Boston."

"Well, I wouldn't- no, you're joking again," Beau said. "Thank you, Arthur."

"Just get yourselves out of this town. They'll appreciate you two up north."

Beau waved goodbye and headed out of town.

"Hopefully that boy starts packing," Arthur said.

"Was that Romeo and Juliet?" John asked.

"Yeah, Romeo alright," Arthur said. "I've got to say though, I'm glad they're getting out. They're better than this town and those families."

"Eh, you're just so soft these days," John snickered.

Arthur tried to swat him, but their horses were too far away. "I'm going to take care of this letter. You okay seeing if the doctor is worth a damn?"

"Sure," John said, and Arthur took off towards the Braithwaite Manor. But when John got to the doctor's office, there was a hastily made sign announcing the man had gone fishing. "Great."

He kicked a clump of dirt and looked around the small town. Maybe he could grab a drink from the saloon and wait for a bit. Play a few rounds of blackjack or ask when they expected the doctor to return. He hitched Old Boy to the fence right before he noticed a black man sitting on a crate, nervously watching the townsfolk move about while trying not to meet John's eye.

"You alright, mister?" John asked.

"You need me to move?" the man said.

"No, why would I?"

"I didn't mean any offense, sir. Please."

"I don't understand."

"I'm very sorry, sir. You have yourself a fine day and I apologize for any offense I may have inadvertently caused." The man grabbed his bag and backed away.

"Are you drunk?" John asked.

"No, sir."

"Well, why you acting so strange, then?"

"I don't mean to," the man said, slow and clear. "I'm sorry for any offense."

John shook his head. "How could you have offended me?"

"I have no idea," the man said. At least he seemed to realize John didn't mean him any harm, and he started to walk back towards him. "But I had no idea how I offended the last fellers and they stole my wagon on account of my impudence."

"They stole your wagon?"

"They didn't like my medical practice, I suppose. I was helping folk."

"Wait, you're a doctor? I was trying to find one," John said.

"Well, at least someone in this town is appreciative," the man said. "Apparently I was undercutting the competition, or I was too colored, or I was irritating in nature, or I was some know it all big city slicker here to demean some good ole boys with my fine words. The exact variety of my sins was the source of some conjecture so they undercut me."

John knew the people of Rhodes were bad, but somehow it didn't quite hit him before. "Which way did they go?"

"Down the road, that away."

"Stay here," John said.

"Wait, didn't you say you needed a doctor?"

"For my friend," John said. "And she ain't dying, I don't think."

John was heading down the road when another black man approached him. "You looking for that feller's wagon?" he asked. "Heard 'em say they was taking it to Macomb's End."

"Thanks, sir."

John steered Old Boy towards the swamps. Stupid South. He understood why Arthur was worried about the people down here. If they found out they were robbing those families, stolen wagons would be the least of their worries.

The air thickened and the sunlight disappeared when he entered the swamps, but soon he located the camp. "Hey! Whatcha steal that wagon for?" he shouted as he pulled out his rifle and downed the two guards. Several more exited the buildings around the dock, but they barely got a chance to notice John before they died, too.

He found the wagon right next to the dock. The gold lettering announcing the services of Doctor Renaud stood out against the black paint and red trim, and what looked like Hosea's mortar and pestle sat on the top.

"Alright, let's get you back," John said to the spooked horses.

But on their way back, even more idiots showed up! "Hey, he's got the wagon!" one shouted before shooting at him.

"Jesus!" John said, before firing back. "What do you want with this thing?"

He heard a loud thunk behind him. The decoration on the top fell off.

"Oops."

Fortunately, he didn't lose anything else from the wagon. When they got back to Rhodes, the doctor was still sitting where John left him. His face lit up when he saw the wagon, and he hopped to his feet.

"My God, look who it is! I did not count on seeing that wagon again, nor you for that matter!"

John climbed down. "Only people you won't be seeing are the fellers who took it."

"I take it they aren't the only ignorant bullying clodhoppers in these parts."

"No, they ain't."

"Well, I'll live in glorious hope," Doctor Renaud said. "It wasn't a trouble now was it?"

"It was a pleasure," John said.

"Well, let me give you something for your please. You said your friend is sick?"

"Yeah. She says she's fine, but she keeps getting sick all the time. Throwing up. Been going on for a few weeks."

"Any fever?"

"No."

"Weight loss?"

"Don't think so."

"How old is she?"

"Uh, late thirties?" John said, slightly embarrassed that he didn't know. "I don't think she's forty yet."

Doctor Renaud looked over his supply with a frown. "Any chance she's pregnant?"

"No," John said immediately, and then he thought about it. Hadn't Abigail been sick when she first got pregnant with Jack? He'd been so focused on himself, he hadn't noticed too much.

Dutch and Annabelle had certainly been doing it a lot lately. But wouldn't Annabelle be able to tell if she was pregnant?

"I'm not sure, actually," John said, deciding on the safest answer.

"Well, this stuff will help with the nausea," Doctor Renaud said, pressing a bottle into his hand. "And it won't harm her on the chance she is pregnant. There's not much to do in that case except wait it out. You should take her to a doctor, though, in either case. Make sure she's drinking plenty of water, and keep her out of this sun."

"Could you come back with me? Take a look?" John said.

"I'm afraid I need to restock a bit," Doctor Renaud said, looking over the back of his wagon. "Besides, I usually deal with simple ailments. Colds, fevers, minor injuries. For something chronic, I suggest taking her to Saint Denis. The doctor there is a good man. Always gives me good prices when I need supplies."

"Oh," John said, a little disappointed.

"I'm sure you're worried, but have her take that and see if it helps. If you see me in my travels, make sure you stop by and say hello."

"I will," John said. He waved goodbye to the doctor and slipped the medicine in his satchel.

She probably wasn't pregnant, right? John didn't know too much about all that, but Annabelle should.

Right?