Arthur hated Saint Denis.
That didn't make it special. He didn't like any city. They was all too crowded, too stifling, too...much. But since it were Charlotte who suggested they make the trip, he weren't about to deny her.
She got stuck on the idea of riding a stage coach all the way down and he did argue with her on that. He'd prefer just taking the horses, but Charlotte claimed the purchases she had planned would be too large.
He'd grumbled, "What're you gonna buy that ain't gonna fit in the saddle bags?"
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."
"I ain't keen on surprises."
She'd eventually whittled him down and got her way and now they were riding in a carriage. Arthur would have pushed with taking their own wagon, but he'd just got back with it and knew the front wheel had started a wobble. The last thing Arthur wanted was them stranded halfway to Saint Denis if the weather turned.
So, they left the wagon at home, dropped off their horses at the small stable in Annesburg for care and were on their way. Charlotte had promised they'd take the train back, but he didn't much like that idea neither. He suffered through the coach ride, on edge the whole time.
In the end, it was worth the trip to see Charlotte's eyes lighting up with excitement at the holiday decorations they spotted upon entering the city. He was relieved for it even. She needed cheering after her folks canceled their plans. It had hit her hard since blood relatives meant something to her, more than she was saying.
Her eyes were practically sparkling at Saint Denis' transformation since their last visit. Snow had fallen here too, significantly less than what they had up at the cabin, but it dusted the rooftops and buildings prettily enough. Wreaths with ribbons decorated the doors of storefronts. Red and white lights wrapped around lamp posts. Saint Denis was ready for Christmas.
"Look what they've done," Charlotte exclaimed as he assisted her out of the carriage. "It's as merry as a postcard."
He chuckled. "You seem excited."
She caught his eye and her expression turned guilty. "I have a confession to make."
"Let me take a wild guess..." He raised a brow. "You like Christmas."
"Yes," she admitted. "I love it."
"Oh, love, is it?" he teased.
"I have so many wonderful memories of Christmas. My mother always made them special in some way. Well, until we were all adults. Then Mama focused on her lavish parties and catered to her distinguished guests."
Out of curiosity, he asked her, "What did one of them parties usually entail?"
She replied offhandedly, "Oh, Mama always went extravagant. Nearly a hundred people always attended. We have a gift exchange within the family and a large feast from trained cooks."
Damn. She'd be missing out on a lot this year. No wonder she'd gotten upset. Shaking off the creeping feelings of inadequacy, he asked her, "So, where to first, milady?"
"Actually, Arthur..." Charlotte stepped in front of him. "This is where we go our separate ways."
He stiffened. "What?"
She laughed. "No need to look so distressed. I'll only need an hour or so."
"Well, why you want to go alone?"
She told him carefully, "There are certain purchases I need to make without your knowledge."
"Right." Arthur got her meaning. She was picking out something for him. As to what, he had no idea. He relaxed, only to frown again at what she was saying. "I don't think it's safe for you to go off on your own, Charlotte."
"Only for an hour," she insisted.
"I don't like it," he said with trepidation.
"It's the middle of the day. What do you think could happen?"
"I don't know, but there ain't no point in takin' chances."
"I'll be alright," she stated firmly. "After all, I did manage to live in Chicago all on my own as an adult."
"I still don't like it," he repeated as no reasons arose that he knew she'd accept.
"It won't be for long." She squeezed his arm. "Don't worry so much."
Yeah, right. That's all he would be goddamn doing. "And what you expect me to do in the meantime?"
Charlotte gestured at the street. "If you walk slowly down this block, I bet by the time you reach the church, I'll be done."
If she was really doing this, Arthur wanted to make sure she was prepared. "You got that gun on you?"
She glanced around before replying, "Yes, but it's a touch uncomfortable under my jacket."
A gun belt would've been more convenient, but tanners didn't much cater to women so Arthur had rigged a custom belt for her waist. She'd chosen to wear it under her jacket, which needled at him since it wasn't easily accessible, but at least she'd worn the damn thing.
"Always be ready for anything 'round here," he warned.
"I will." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "And I won't get into any trouble if you won't."
Arthur groaned. "Now you're just askin' for it to find you."
Charlotte laughed at that and then drifted down the sidewalk. He fought every impulse to trail after her. He didn't like letting her out of his sight. Especially here. Least when he left her at the cabin there was a lesser chance of an attack. Arthur was familiar with Saint Denis, but it weren't the kind of place he could stand his ground.
He took a deep breath in and out to settle down. To distract himself, he did as Charlotte suggested and started his walk. He tried to keep his pace slow. Damn, he wished they would've ridden down. What he wouldn't give to keep company with the horses while he waited. But it was a good time to stretch his legs after the coach ride, he supposed.
If Saint Denis made him this anxious, Arthur didn't know how he would have survived their original plans to Chicago. He'd dreaded it for the longest time. In a city bigger than this, playin' nice with a bunch of rich strangers and attending god knew what else, was not in his wheelhouse.
But it'd meant a lot to Charlotte and he'd eventually gotten used to the idea. Hell, he'd actually been half-looking forward to seein' the pissed off look on her old man. That bastard would've had a conniption seeing him strutting around still breathing.
Apparently, Arthur didn't make his walk slow enough because when he reached the church, Charlotte wasn't there yet. He hadn't noticed her outside any of the shops he'd passed and he tried not to panic at the thought.
Across from the church was a store called Pascal Books and Stationary. Though she'd told him not to follow her, he decided for his peace of mind to see if she'd stopped in.
Soon as he walked in the store, he got overwhelmed. He noticed right away Charlotte wasn't here and it weren't as much of a bookshop as it was the stationary part of its name. Arthur didn't know there were so many different types of paper and pens a person could buy.
When the clerk started talking his ear off about some new Griffon fountain pen, Arthur regretted his entry into the shop. He was nodding and backing away when he spotted a book on display on the counter. He didn't know all the books Charlotte had or what exactly she preferred, but he knew she didn't have this one. He paid the clerk extra to double the paper wrap to keep it hidden. As he exited the store and remembered the title, he had a grin on his face.
"Don't you look like the cat who ate the canary."
Arthur turned and found Charlotte coming up the street. "I got on well enough." He nodded at her hands laden with shopping bags. "Looks like you did too."
She blushed. "I'm hoping to make our cabin a little merrier before Christmas."
Our. It still blew him away sometimes at how casually she said such things. Like he had any right to sharing an ordinary life with anyone.
He cleared his throat. "You hungry?"
"I am peckish." She eyed him. "You're volunteering to stay here awhile longer? Aren't you jumping at the chance to leave on the next train?"
He shrugged. "I reckon we got time for a meal."
Truth was, he liked seeing Charlotte happy and for some odd reason, she liked being in the city. He could suffer another hour here, if only to prolong that feeling for her.
"Well..." She turned contemplative. "There was a place I saw last time we were in town."
It was a restaurant only half a block down called La Rivière Cafe. They apparently served seafood and French cuisine. Arthur wasn't sure how well he'd like their food, but he'd give it a try.
As he held the door open for Charlotte, a boy walked past, brushing against him. Arthur felt the distinct pressure of a hand fumbling around in his empty pocket. He turned and grabbed the slippery kid's arm. He immediately hauled him out and around the side of the restaurant.
Arthur confronted the kid. "What do you think you're doin', you little shit?"
The boy went wide-eyed and tried to pull away. "I didn't do nothin', mister."
"The hell you didn't."
Charlotte came up beside him, concerned. "What's going on, Arthur?"
"We got us a pickpocket."
"Oh, my."
The boy struggled again. "Let me go!"
"I've dealt with you little shit-heads before. You're one of Brontes' swindler orphans."
"Please, mister, we all fend for ourselves now, since he got himself killed," the boy pleaded and then added belatedly, "And I got a sick mother to think of."
Arthur growled, "The hell you do."
"What's wrong with your mother?" Charlotte asked.
Arthur stared at her in disbelief.
"I want to hear him out," Charlotte stated. "Let him go, Arthur."
He scowled, but did as she asked. The boy had been poised to run, but finding a better mark, he stopped and aimed large, tear-filled eyes at Charlotte. "She's come down with scurvy, miss."
Hustlin' shit. Arthur shook his head. "Where the hell you pull that from?"
"How dreadful!" Charlotte pressed a hand to her chest. "Not scurvy."
He gritted his teeth. "Charlotte..."
She ignored him and knelt at the boy's level. Arthur sighed and leaned against the building, crossing his arms.
Charlotte said worriedly, "I hope she's doing alright."
"She has a terrible cough, ma'am."
"What can I do to help?"
"For a few dollars...I could buy her the proper medicine."
Unbelievably, she reached for her handbag. "If that's all it takes..."
The boy nodded eagerly.
Charlotte frowned, hand in her bag. "Oh dear. It seems I don't have change. How about $10?"
The boy was practically drooling. "That'll do, ma'am."
She pulled out the bill, but paused. "I'll give you this if you promise to use any leftover change to help other children you know who are struggling too."
He nodded and she handed the bill over. "Thanks, ma'am!" He shoved it into his shirt and ran off.
Arthur pushed off the wall and commented, "He's keepin' that all for himself, you know."
"Perhaps." Charlotte stood and smoothed out her skirt. "But he was in need of it all the same."
He shook his head. "That soft heart of yours is gonna get fooled by the wrong sort one of these days."
Arthur said it like he ain't known it'd already happened, and because of him.
"There's a certain risk to it, I admit." Charlotte rested a hand on his arm. "But maybe showing a little kindness will have strangers extending their own goodwill."
He grunted a non-response. She weren't wrong. He'd seen proof enough of that. Hell, even his one good deed for Charlotte had led to...well, all of this.
Arthur escorted Charlotte into the restaurant without another word. They ate with no other thieving hands making off with their cash. Arthur was used to fish, but he wasn't sure of La Rivière's claim to the 'finest seafood menu in Saint Denis'. It was good enough for fish, but he didn't relish it and Charlotte had trouble finishing her own meal.
Afterwards, they headed for the train station straight away. Aside from that greedy kid, nothing else untoward happened, which had to be a first for Arthur's time in Saint Denis. But he shouldn't have relaxed until he and Charlotte were nestled in front of the fire at Willard's Rest.
At the station, Arthur leaned on the counter and asked the station clerk, "Can we get two tickets on the next train, please?"
"You want the 8:30 or the 10 o'clock tomorrow?"
Arthur frowned. "I want the one that gets me the hell out of here right now."
The bushy, brown eyebrows on the clerk furrowed. "I do apologize, folks, but there won't be any more trains today."
Charlotte glanced at Arthur and protested, "That can't be true."
"Sorry, ma'am, but it is. We got word of a snowstorm in the Grizzlies. It stalled the Central Union car up north. They sent another train up with a bunch of ragtag laborers to dig it out. We won't see neither locomotive until tomorrow morning at the earliest."
"Hmm," Charlotte mused. "Perhaps, we wouldn't have made it to Chicago either way."
"Now what?" Arthur asked, aggravated.
"I suppose we'll need to walk back into town and find a hotel for the night."
"If you say so." The last thing he'd wanted was another night here.
The station clerk shook his head. "You ain't gonna find a vacancy at any hotel in Saint Denis."
Arthur turned to the other man. "Why not?"
The clerk informed them, "All the hotels have been filled up for weeks. Even the new Hotel Chevalier behind me here is plum full and that one just had its grand opening. This is a popular city to travel to for the holidays, you know."
Arthur remarked, "Since when?"
The station clerk shrugged. "Saint Denis puts on a grand show for Christmas."
Well, that was just great. What the hell were they supposed to do now?
"The coach is still here if you wanna go that route," the clerk pointed out.
Arthur and Charlotte looked at each other. Even if they left for Annesburg now, their carriage would be rolling through the damn swamps when dark fell. That weren't a risk worth takin', not with Charlotte to think of.
"I'm sorry." A stout, buxom woman with tightly pinned hair stood behind them. "I didn't mean to listen in on you folks. I'm not sure how far you two want to travel, but you could make Rhodes by sunset if you set off now."
Arthur scowled. "Rhodes? Why the hell would we wanna go there?"
The woman blinked and frowned, probably not liking his harsh tones. But she continued pleasantly enough, "There aren't too many traveling that way these days. There will be a room available at the saloon."
"How you gonna know a thing like that?"
"My name is Mrs. Ethel Bloom. My uncle works the saloon in Rhodes. You give him my name and he'll get you in."
Charlotte said graciously, "Why thank you, Mrs. Bloom."
"Yeah, thanks," added Arthur. "But why the hell are you helpin' us?"
"Call it...the spirit of Christmas, if you will. My good deed for the season. Isn't that what Mr. Dickens encourages us to do this time of year?" Mrs. Bloom nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dinner party to attend. Best of luck to you both."
As the woman walked away, Charlotte turned. "That was certainly serendipitous. What do you think, Arthur?"
He didn't like it, but neither did he want to chance being stuck on the streets of Saint Denis overnight. If he had his camping gear, he'd set up right outside the city. But, even with that, Charlotte didn't deserve to sleep on the rough, cold ground.
Arthur sighed. "I reckon, we're headin' to Rhodes."