Karen rubbed her cheek where it stung. She doubted it would bruise. She'd had run-ins with Roy before. He was a piece of work, but weak as a babe.

She'd been surprised to find Arthur appear suddenly in her defense, but honestly not shocked. He was always popping up to play hero. For a brief moment, she'd been overjoyed at seeing him here. She hadn't heard head nor tail of anyone from the gang in months.

But then Karen remembered she'd made that happen on purpose, that she'd run from them. Arthur being here couldn't be good news. She made her escape while he was pushed against the piano.

Before she left the saloon, she snatched a half full bottle of bourbon off a table and snuck out the back door, just as she heard Ollie Fink demanding to know what was going on. She shuddered, glad to have avoided that bastard entirely.

She also had to evade some Raiders congregating outside. They were uptight assholes cussing her out in the daytime, but handsy bastards after a few drinks. Karen was pissed her night had been interrupted and she didn't dare return to the saloon. If Roy somehow managed to come to after that wallop Arthur gave him, he wouldn't leave her unpunished for it.

Karen resignedly decided to play it safe and make her way back to the caravans where she was renting. She spent the next twenty minutes going between houses and stores, not even taking the time for a swig of her bourbon. She kept close to the sides of the buildings so she wouldn't be as easy to spot. It wasn't difficult. She'd been evading men since she was a teenager.

In front of the general store, she felt far and safe enough away from the saloon. She pulled the cork of the bourbon, about to take a much needed drink when a voice shouted, "Hold on!"

Karen groaned. This was not her night. She didn't bother stopping as she called over her shoulder, "I ain't got nothin' worth robbin'."

If she hadn't pawned her guns to the fence weeks ago, she'd be turning around and challenging this person with her own weapon. It'd been a stupid, stupid mistake, but she'd been desperate for cash at the time.

She'd also depleted what little she'd saved up. Worse, she had rent due now, but no means to pay. She'd be kicked out any day. She'd become as desperate as those pathetic fools Strauss always borrowed to.

"No," protested her would-be robber. "That's not my intention."

Frowning, Karen turned to find a woman she didn't recognize. No desperate beggar, but not in rich finery. That meant she had money enough for buying all the proper winter clothing, but not in luxury.

Karen knew right away she wasn't from around here. She looked like some country girl from up north, in a heavier coat than was necessary for the temperature of this area. She had hair that matched the night, her lips compressed in a determined line...

And a damn gun pointed in her direction.

She didn't look like no one Karen owed money to, which confused her. She eyed her suspiciously. "What the hell do you want?"

The other woman blinked rapidly, appearing flustered. "You...Arthur..." She sucked in a breath, seeming to gather courage. "I need your help."

Karen ain't got time for this. Soon enough, one of the Raiders would come by and she didn't plan on getting into it with another of them tonight. She turned her back on the stranger, about to walk away.

"No, wait!" the woman ordered.

Karen spun around again and laughed. "What? You gonna gun me down if I don't?"

Indecision rippled across her facial features as she balked. "Well...I..."

"You won't," Karen said mockingly and pointed. "You don't even got your goddamned revolver cocked. I bet you've never even shot someone."

A stony grimness took over her uncertainty. "Unfortunately for you, I have."

By her confidence, that was something Karen could believe her. She crossed her arms. "Well? What the hell do you want from me?"

"Arthur saved you," she said.

"So?"

She bit her lip. "He's been arrested."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"You need to help me."

Not seeing a threat, Karen started striding away. "I don't need to do shit. I don't even know who the hell you are."

The woman chased after her and caught up. Her gun was at her side, not in any kind of defensive placement. It was a good thing Karen didn't have any villainous intentions tonight because this lady would be on the ground and gun-less in only a few seconds.

The woman stated, "But you know Arthur."

"And?"

"He needs help."

"If he wanted to, he coulda taken on all of them."

"No, he can't." She halted in her tracks and Karen found herself stopping with her. The woman whispered, "He's sick."

It'd been a brief encounter, but Karen did remember seeing a weariness to his expression now that she'd said that. But sick?

Karen was about to ask what with when something started to happen to other woman's face. Tears sprang up and rushed from her eyes. Karen steeled herself. She wouldn't be moved. Bad things happened when she tried to help people.

While Karen pretended to not care, the woman swept at her eyes hastily, her voice cracking as she said, "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me."

Goddamnit. Karen didn't want it proven she still had strings that could be tugged from this broken, wretched heart of hers. Unfortunately, it was something she had no control over.

Begrudgingly, she asked, "You got a room at the Parlor House?"

She shook her head like she ain't even thought that far when it was the middle of the damn night. Like despicable men lurking in the night weren't a thing. Did she have no common sense?

Karen's conscience fought against her own common sense. "Come with me. I ain't got much room, but you won't be accosted."

Karen led the woman down the dirt path and past the rotting, wooden fence. A few of the other caravan residents were sitting around the campfire, drinking and chatting. Karen refused to be jealous.

Irv, a man with long, straggly hair who hardly spoke when he was sober, called out drunkenly, "Who's your pretty friend, Karen?"

Karen ignored him and pushed the woman up the steps and inside her caravan.

Karen directed her into a chair and grabbed a bottle of wine kept in one of the cabinets. It was the only type of alcohol she didn't touch often. For some reason, wine gave her the worst headaches, before she could even get drunk off of it. She avoided it unless she was desperate.

Karen poured a little into a cup. "Drink some of this. It'll make you feel better."

The woman nodded and accepted it. Her hands shook some as she clutched the glass. She stared at it for a moment before tentatively sipping at it, like a kitten and its first bowl of milk.

Karen settled for a cigarette instead of a drink. She had a feeling she'd need to stay somewhat sober for whatever she'd just got herself into. At least, more sober than she usually would be this time of night.

She leaned against the doorway, asking, "Mind telling me who the hell you are?"

"My name's Charlotte."

"Karen." She took a drag of her cigarette. "Why the hell do you care so much about what happens to Arthur? I'm sure Dutch will turn up to retrieve his golden boy in the morning."

Charlotte's brows furrowed and she looked up. "You don't know what happened to the gang, do you?"

Karen tensed. "What happened?"

"I don't think I'm the right person to say. I don't know much about it either."

"Apparently, a hell of a lot more than me."

Charlotte rotated the glass in her hands. "The only thing I know for certain is the gang dissolved and some survived and some didn't."

Karen could have guessed that weren't a mystery where everything was headed after Grimshaw...Karen ignored the memory as best she could.

What Karen couldn't keep from remembering was her own actions against her friends. Pushing Mary-Beth off her when she'd made to help, snapping at Tilly when she'd spoken her worries and yelling at Arthur when he tried talking with her too.

Karen took another deep drag of her cigarette. Damn, maybe she shouldn't have skipped the drink after all.

"I've met Sadie. And Charles."

Karen swallowed, simultaneously wanting and not wanting to know about her friends. "How about Mary-Beth? Or Tilly?"

She frowned. "I've heard mention of them. I think Sadie said Tilly was living in Saint Denis."

So close. But it made sense. Tilly always wanted to live in the city. Somehow, she thought it more civilized.

"I don't know about this Mary-Beth. Maybe Arthur would."

Her memory was fuzzy over those times. Everyone who wasn't clinging to Dutch was whispering of leaving, scared for their goddamn lives. Micah hardly left Dutch's side after bringing in those two dirty killers. She thought she'd seen the worst of what the gang had become and that's when she'd left.

"So..." Karen blew smoke, twisted her cigarette and redirected the conversation. "You and Arthur fuck or what?"

It amused Karen to see Charlotte immediately redden and stutter. It hadn't been a hard guess by the way she kept going about him. Charlotte wasn't a girl by any means and Karen nearly rolled her eyes over her blushing. Modesty, a proven trait of the prude.

"Ah, well." Charlotte cleared her throat, saying, "We were friends long before we-we—"

Karen raised a brow. "Were lovers?"

"Well, yes." Charlotte set her glass aside twisted her hands together. "It took awhile for Arthur to...become intimate. I don't know if you ever noticed, but he gets notions in his head about not being worthy of love."

"I got a guess as to who may have caused that."

Her, Mary-Beth and Tilly were always gossiping about everyone else at camp, but they'd taken a deep fascination with Arthur's love life. Mary-Beth in particular was obsessed with his unrequited love for Mrs. Mary Linton. She'd witnessed repeatedly the hold Mary had on him too. Every time the woman sent him a letter, he left camp for her no matter the jobs that were being planned.

"A former lover of his, yes?" Charlotte's face scrunched up. "If I ever meet that woman, I'd certainly like to give her a piece of my mind."

It was her first sign of a fiery nature and it was unexpected enough to have Karen laughing. "If you get the chance, I'll join you. Nothing I hate more than a woman who acts like her shit don't stink."

"Yes, well, I think he's finally come around to forgetting whatever she'd done to him, but the scars she left are sometimes on the surface."

Karen studied Charlotte, at the newfound ferocity in her expression. "You really love him, don't you?"

"I do."

Karen didn't know too much about love. She'd thought she'd had it with Sean, but everything had been so hot and cold with him. Then he'd gotten himself killed and there'd been nothing left to debate.

"I should have spoken up and defended him in the saloon." Charlotte stared at the hat she'd set aside, looking pained. "But Arthur signaled for me not to."

Karen shrugged, stubbing out her cigarette butt. "Arthur was right. If you'd said anything to associate yourself with him, you'd be arrested just the same." Lord knows she wouldn't have gone back for him. She'd be drinking right now if her night had gone smoother. "Them Raiders have Mr. Fink in their corner. Ain't telling what they would've done to you. It coulda got ugly real fast."

"If we don't do anything..." Charlotte's hand went to her throat subconsciously. "...they won't hang him, will they?"

"I doubt it. He didn't do nothing, but knock a man out."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Unless they find out he's a wanted outlaw," Karen added. "Fink is especially vicious, he'd probably egg it on. Folks around here like that sort of thing and it ain't happened in a few months. Reckon it'd be quite the Christmas show."

"No," Charlotte whispered, horrified. "We need to help Arthur."

Not this again. "Cut the man loose already. You ain't doing yourself no favors being attached to him. I know. I ran with him and worse."

Charlotte stood. "Arthur compromised the life he has now for you, without a second thought, Karen."

She didn't meet Charlotte's eyes as she mumbled, "I didn't need him to."

"Do you think he would have done that for just anyone?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I do," Charlotte said firmly. "There must be some way. Arthur said the lawmen here are corrupt. Do you think that Officer Pitts would accept cash before the sheriff gets back?"

"No. Lou's a straight shooter. Even stopped drinking so much when Thomas said he was being considered for deputy."

"And the other?"

"Finks corrupt alright, but he'll want something in addition to money if it was you asking."

"What do you—oh." Charlotte nodded. "That's it then."

Karen thought the woman had already given up on enlisting her help, but when she glanced her way, a strange determination overtook her expression. "We'll have to consider more...explicit means."

Karen's interest piqued. "You talking about a jailbreak?"

Charlotte flushed a bit, but said firmly, "Yes, I am actually. Do you think it's feasible?"

Lord, that little bit of wine was making this woman bold.

"I mean, probably. I just didn't expect an idea like that from someone as hoity-toity as you."

Charlotte drew herself up. "You don't even know me."

"I know your type."

"I don't think you do."

She was uncomfortable at the way Charlotte was looking at her. It reminded her of another desperate woman she'd tried to help.

"Even if we wanted to break him out, we ain't got shit for weapons. I pawned what I had a long time ago and all you have is that revolver. That ain't gonna make this easy."

Her face scrunched up. "Will using weapons be strictly necessary?"

"If you wanna spring him easy and quick."

"But it can't be that difficult, can it? I've seen inside the jailhouse. It's relatively small and really, if there was trouble, there's only two lawmen and only one of them's guarding him now."

It did sound easy, hearing it laid out like that. Karen hesitated. Not because she didn't think it possible, but because she did. If she got Arthur out of jail, he'd start asking her questions. And she wasn't ready to face up to her mistakes.

Karen insisted, "You're gonna need guns."

"You're certain it's the only way?"

"Yes." But Karen was thinking of how Lou would respond. Backed into a corner, two women demanding he open a jail cell, he'd brave up, not cower. That didn't mean her mind wasn't turning over an alternative. She'd never sprung one of the boys out, but the concept couldn't be much different from robbing a bank—easier even—and she'd done that plenty of times without letting off a shot.

"Maybe," she conceded to Charlotte grudgingly.

"I can't attest to my shooting ability, at least in an all out fight. Not to mention, I have no intention in murdering anyone when it can be avoided."

"I don't know how the hell you expect to do anything with that kinda attitude."

"Come now, there must have been some way to break one of your fellow gang members out of jail without carnage. Such events do make the news."

"There may be a way past Lou, but..."

"But what?"

Karen looked away. "If I get involved with this, I ain't gonna be able to stay in Rhodes."

The conversation between them fell silent for a moment.

Then Charlotte straightened her shoulders and said, "Tell me what I need to do."

Karen scowled. "You can't do it alone."

"If it means getting Arthur out safely, then I have to try."

Her brave words shamed Karen for not offering to do more. What did she have here anyway? Nothing left except her own self-pity, bad memories and guilt. Charlotte's grit was something Karen once prided herself for having. What the hell had happened to her?

"Karen," Charlotte interrupted her reflections and repeated, "Tell me what to do."

"You can't by yourself. I'll..." She sighed. "I'll help."

A hopeful gleam rose in her eyes. "Truly?"

"That jailhouse ain't no federal prison. I reckon there's a way."

At the thought of becoming involved, a heaviness in her heart lightened—just a little. She'd been hiding, it was true. But maybe doing this for Arthur would be the right thing. Maybe something she did finally would be.

"We do it early enough Fink won't be in yet and Sheriff Thomas won't be there. We'll head over at sunrise."

Charlotte frowned. "I was hoping we could go tonight."

Karen shook her head. "Them Raiders are rowdy as all hell, worse at night once they've been liquored up. We might not make it to the jailhouse without trouble."

"Alright." Charlotte nodded. "How do you suggest we go about it then?"

"How good's your acting?"

Her brows rose in surprise. "If the situation calls for it, I suppose it can be up to snuff."

"Oh, it's gonna call for it alright."

Feeling a familiar, wild excitement growing, Karen strode to the wardrobe where a woman who'd previously lived here had left behind some clothing. None of it had fit Karen so she'd left it untouched. She rifled through the items, stopping at a corset and pulling it out. "You're going to be the distraction."

"What must I do?"

"Try this on. I've got a few routines we can work with. Which would you prefer: harlot, little girl or betrayed mistress?"

Charlotte paused in shedding her coat. "I couldn't say."

As Karen helped Charlotte to tie the corset, she eyed her critically in the mirror. "Maybe we'll create a new one for you. Lost beauty?"

When she finished fitting the corset, she turned Charlotte around. She tapped her chin. "Hmm. Good, but not enough."

"What more can—"

Karen began tearing Charlotte's neckline at the seams.

"Hey!"

"Trust me," Karen grinned a little. "The more cleavage, the better. Lou won't know what hit him."

Charlotte frowned unhappily. "If you say so."

Karen reached around her and grabbed a jar of rouge. She dipped her finger and spread it across Charlotte's lips, a stark red to her pale skin and black hair. To remedy that, Karen wiped her fingers and pinched the other woman's cheeks, causing them to pinken.

Karen spun Charlotte around to face the mirror again. "What do you think?"

Charlotte covered her décolletage with one hand and her lips with the other. "I feel entirely too exposed."

Karen suggested, "Use those wide, frightened eyes to your advantage."

Charlotte exhaled and faced her. "What's the plan?"

"Lou keeps a spare key to the cell in the mattress at the jailhouse." Karen didn't wait for Charlotte to ask how she knew that. "You get Lou out of that building and then I'll come in through the back door. I'll steal the key, get Arthur out the back and all you have to do is come up with something to get rid of Lou."

She perked up a little. "That sounds simple enough."

"Last thing we need is a ride outta here. You two come in on horses?"

"I'm afraid we arrived on a coach."

"We'll have to steal a couple then."

She shifted uncomfortably. "If you think it's necessary."

Karen glared. "Do you want to break an outlaw out of jail or not? 'Cause you can't be picky about which damn laws you're breaking."

"Yes, you're right. This is all a bit overwhelming."

Could this goody-two-shoes handle this? "Let me have your gun in case things get hairy."

"Just remember," Charlotte said as she reluctantly handed it over. "Killing should be our last resort."

Karen rolled her eyes. "You're trying to make this harder, ain't you?"

Charlotte preached to her, "Not only are we keeping a clean conscience, we're keeping a low profile."

"I guess."

But Karen didn't believe it was possible. There ain't no way they were leaving this backwards town without someone getting shot.