How had everything turned on its head so quickly?

Charlotte had seen most of what happened, but she didn't quite understand it. One minute she was asking about the room availability, providing Mrs. Bloom's name while mentally distracted, anticipating the continuation of what her and Arthur had started in the coach. The next minute, she'd been startled to find Arthur storming across the room and knocking a man out.

There was a woman involved somehow. Arthur had been defending her, but it wasn't only that. The blonde woman had recognized him. Charlotte had heard her say his name before she disappeared, a hand cupping her slapped cheek.

Her first instinct had been to intervene the moment the officer clamped his hand on Arthur, who at that point looked ready to shoot his way out of here. But when Arthur had met her eyes, all his resistance seemed to slip away, settling into resignation. He shook his head ever so slightly, clearly not wanting her to become involved.

But she couldn't help it. Arthur hadn't done anything wrong. He'd been in the right to defend that woman. Before she could step in and vouch for him, he was leering at her with an odd grin and claiming he didn't know her.

Then the officer had pushed him out the door and she couldn't move from the shock of it for several moments. How had everything turned on its head so quickly?

What she became aware of first was Arthur's hat on the ground. She snatched it up before it was stepped on by the men returning to their card game. It hadn't bothered her when Arthur had been holding her hand, but now the packed saloon was making her dizzy.

The entrance was blocked by the police officer who'd ordered Arthur arrested and men removing the fellow he'd knocked out. Charlotte turned and made for the back of the building.

She fumbled her way between the patrons and past the bar. As she went by, the bartender called, "Ma'am, about that room—"

"I'm sorry. I'll have to get back to you. I-I need a moment."

Charlotte strode through a set of swinging doors and into a short hallway. She swept past an open door, where women were changing and powdering their noses. One called out to her, but she didn't stop.

At last, she pushed out the back door, flitted down three steps and rested against a column. She gulped in a few breaths of the crisp winter air, her hands tightening on Arthur's hat.

The chill startled her enough to finally recover her bearings. Night had fallen fully in Rhodes and Arthur's warning of the unfriendly nature of its residents materialized inconveniently into her mind. Fear clutched her heart in a tight grip. She had no allies here, Arthur was arrested and she was in a town none to familiar to her.

Get it together, Charlotte, she tried to calm herself. What could she do? Because standing outside of a saloon and panicking was not helping Arthur.

At that moment, she heard voices. She leaned to peer around the corner of the building and spotted Arthur being pushed down the road by an officer.

The officer warned, "Don't you try nothing, partner."

"Okay, take it easy," Arthur said without resistance. "I ain't fightin' you."

"Hold on." The officer slipped his gun into his belt and dug out his handcuffs. "Put your hands behind your back."

Arthur shook his head. "This your first time takin' someone in, kid?"

"You don't need to talk." When the officer had Arthur's wrists cuffed together, he prodded him with his gun to move. "And it's Officer Pitts, not 'kid'."

"Pitts? That's an unfortunate name, ain't it?"

"Shut it, you. You ain't doin' yourself no favors by talkin'."

Charlotte picked up her skirt and followed them down the dirt lane, keeping at a distance so the officer wouldn't notice her. She followed them to the jailhouse, a building situated between the doctor's office and a hotel with a large 'No Vacancies' sign. She watched from across the street as Arthur was led in.

Charlotte bit her lip. She wanted nothing more than to burst in and demand Officer Pitts release Arthur. But Arthur didn't caution lightly and he'd mimed to her to keep quiet.

She stepped up to the door, treading lightly on the wooden porch. Instead of going inside right away, she peeked through the window, in time to see Arthur getting uncuffed and the metal door to the jail shutting behind him.

The officer locked Arthur's guns up in a case on the wall and then went for the back door, saying, "I gotta take a piss. Don't go nowhere."

"'Course. Wouldn't even dream of it, officer."

Charlotte eased the door open and crept in, but Arthur didn't notice her. With the policeman gone, he'd quickly fallen from cavalier in his manner to resigned. He was sitting on the cot, elbows on his knees and a hand over his face. She heard him mutter darkly, "Shit."

She was so relieved to see him unhurt, she quirked a smile. "Not exactly the kind of room I had in mind, Mr. Morgan."

Arthur lifted his head and said with alarm, "Charlotte!" He stood and met her at the bars, asking, "What are you doin' here?"

"I thought it obvious." She reached through the bars and tugged on his coat, pulling him closer and wishing she could pull him through. She heard a hollow rattling in his breathing and asked worriedly, "Are you alright?"

He released a heavy sigh. "Just about."

Satisfied he didn't have any injuries, she asked with curiosity, "Who was that woman you helped, Arthur?"

"She...she's a friend."

Her brows rose as she realized what he wasn't saying. A friend he was reluctant to speak of meant one thing. Another gang member.

Charlotte knew there were women in the gang. She'd met Sadie of course, heard some of Tilly, Mary-Beth and Abigail. But from what little she did know of those women, none matched the description of the blonde woman at the saloon.

"Is she alright?"

He told her grudgingly, "She made it out better than me."

Despite his original intention for them to get in, get a room and not leave for the night, he'd done the opposite. Arthur couldn't seem to help himself when he witnessed a dishonorable act, no matter the consequence. This time he'd acted the white knight and it had cost him.

She rested a hand on his bearded cheek and asked softly, "What am I going to do with you, Arthur Morgan?"

"Seems to me, the smart thing would be to cut me loose."

"I believe we're too far gone for that route." She smiled at him. "Now, how do I get you out of here?"

"Best you can do, Charlotte, is get yourself outta here."

She thought he was joking until she caught the severity of his expression. Leave? How absurd.

He continued, "If they see you talkin' to me, you'll be thrown in too."

She protested, "But this has all been a misunderstanding."

"That officer recognized me." He pointed to the wall behind her. "I reckon it won't take him long to figure out from where."

She turned and saw a wanted poster hanging on the wall above the desk. A strip was torn on top and drooping, but Charlotte knew what it said. Mostly because, she'd seen it before in Annesburg, but now each word produced a terrible twist in her stomach.

$5000 Reward

For the capture of ARTHUR MORGAN

Below it, a fairly accurate sketch drawing of his face, if a meaner edge to his eyes than what she was used to. Following that, a detailed description of Arthur's age, appearance and a list of his crimes. But what had Charlotte filling with the worst dread was the last line.

Wanted Dead or Alive

In all truths, Arthur was exactly where he was supposed to be, according to the government, even if the means in getting him here had been unjustified.

"It don't matter what they got against me," Arthur told her with defeat. "It's done and the law ain't never been on my side."

Charlotte turned from the poster. Perhaps it was controversial or selfish or downright wrong to disagree. But she'd come to know Arthur. He'd committed crimes, but he'd also paid penance for many of them. Perhaps not in a way some might see as entirely served for his crimes, but enough in her eyes.

He cast a glance to the back door of the office. "Charlotte, you need to get yourself outta here before that lawman comes back."

"No," she said resolutely. "I want to explain the situation to Officer Pitts. Surely, I can make him understand."

"Tryin' to reason with the law won't get you nowhere 'cept a cell." His words were sharp and angry. "Especially if you're makin' a case for someone like me."

She gestured at the poster. "They don't know that's you yet. They can't hold you here without legitimate charges."

"They can do whatever the hell they want."

"That's not how the law is supposed to work."

"That's how it damn well works around here."

"There must be something I can—"

Arthur moved suddenly, slamming his hand against the bars and making the metal ring. He snarled out, "There ain't nothin' you can do!"

Startled, Charlotte took an unconscious step back. Arthur didn't yell at her.

"Get the hell outta here!" He added in a low, graveled voice, "Now."

Arthur glared at her and not playfully or with exasperation, but in a different, unfamiliar manner. More similar in expression to the ruthless man on the poster than the one she'd come to know. He was attempting to intimidate her, she realized.

Except the sudden hostility didn't reach his eyes. Instead of hate or anger, Charlotte read fear. For some reason, he'd chosen to accept this awful fate and was now trying to convince her of it, to scare her from aiding him.

While she'd grown familiar with his method of lashing out, he hadn't fallen back on it in months and it was not in any capacity helpful in this moment. She thought they were past this, past him pushing her away. Now, more than ever, was a time for them to work together.

"That is not a necessary tone to take with me, Arthur," she chided. "I love you, but if you think I'm giving up, you've lost your darn mind."

He said nothing, but clenched his jaw as if to stop himself from expressing his thoughts.

Charlotte turned on her heel. She didn't want to leave him, but she saw the futility in convincing him of anything right now. Before she left, she marched over to the poster and snatched it off the wall.

She faced Arthur one more time, promising, "That should bide you some time until I come back."

Charlotte departed the Sheriff's office, ruffled from the conversation. Did Arthur honestly expect her to do nothing? But she straightened and thought about where she needed to go next. The next possible solution. The mail clerk in Annesburg accepted pay offs for crimes. Maybe the one here in Rhodes did also.

Charlotte strode with purpose to the train station, which was easy to find in the dark, luckily enough, as it was the largest building and next to the tracks. As she entered, she was surprised to see the number of people milling about. However, she then remembered the stranded trains and the lack of vacancy at the hotel. They'd chosen to sleep on the benches at the station.

Charlotte walked up to the clerk's window and waited patiently, despite how jittery her nerves were. When the mail clerk finally came up to her, she was nervously twisting Arthur's hat in her hand. She scolded herself when she noticed what she'd been doing and hoped she hadn't creased it.

The clerk who approached her had black mutton chops and a mustache to match. He eyed her up and down, almost with suspicion.

When she asked him about paying off a prisoner's bounty, he stated, "I'm sorry, ma'am. If the sheriff ain't brought his information yet, I can't clear his name out of the books."

"Well, then I'll go ask him to expedite it."

He shook his head. "That ain't gonna happen tonight. Sheriff Thomas left town, escorting a prisoner to Sisika Pen. He won't be back 'til tomorrow."

"I shall have a word with his deputy then."

The mail clerk was already shaking his head again before she finished. "'Fraid that ain't doable neither. Sheriff Thomas ain't got no deputy."

She frowned. "How is that possible?"

He leaned in a little. "He's got two officers vying for the position, Oliver Fink and Louis Pitts. But he ain't chosen which one he wants as second-in-command yet. Says he'll announce it Christmas Day."

She blew out a breath. "What am I supposed to do?"

He seemed sincere. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't know. Do you got a room at the hotel or the Parlour House?"

"I was about to reserve one at the saloon."

"I hope it's still available. If I were you, I'd start heading back. Ain't no good can come of a lady like you wandering 'round here at night."

Dejected, she left. She didn't want to wait until morning. What if Arthur was correct and the officer watching over him figured out who he was?

She'd have to take the mail clerk's advice and hope for the best to happen tomorrow. Her stomach tightened horribly at the thought. Arthur was in trouble and she'd done everything within her means to get him out, short of bribing a policeman, but she'd failed. The problem was, she was utterly and completely out of her depth in this sort of situation.

As she walked past the general store, she saw another woman on the opposite side. She stumbled in her walk, blonde curls with a glass bottle in hand. Charlotte froze. That was the woman Arthur had protected. She'd escaped while he'd been captured.

Grim determination settled over her mind. Charlotte wasn't going to fail again. She needed help and she had an outlaw to enlist in her sights. She wasn't about to take no for an answer. Charlotte sucked a breath in for courage and vowed to herself, by any means necessary.

Then, she slipped her hand into her jacket until she felt cold metal.