Charlotte gingerly removed Arthur's arm and eased off the bed. She stood and watched over him a moment. As she did so, he adjusted the arm she'd laid under to drape across his eyes and block the rising dawn streaming in from the window, without waking. A few buttons at his chest were open and he'd tucked his hand inside the opening at some point in the night.

The visual reminded her suddenly and starkly of the fretful weeks she'd endured months ago, when she'd been desperately trying to keep him alive after she'd found him on the cliffs. As she watched him sleep now, she swore his chest stopped moving. She looked away and listened with closed eyes for his light snoring to reassure herself it was all in her mind. That first week in her care, she'd had to do the same thing several times a day, holding her breath to hear the whispering of his.

All that time she'd spent hadn't been squandered. In the end, her gamble had paid off and his life had been saved. His condition had improved since then. Today, his breathing was wheezy, but audible and consistent. It was only her fear that had her hearing silence.

Although, who could blame her? It'd been...well, it'd been an unsettling past few days, to put in mildly. Between her partner being jailed, getting involved in another shootout and seeing her brother being jumped by wolves, this had been the most trying holiday of her life.

Charlotte left the room quietly and went into the main room. She glanced in the direction of her brother and smiled. He was sleeping in a haphazardly fashion, blanket strewn across half his body and his arms flailed out as if he had slipped backward onto the floor and fallen asleep in that position.

She went to the stove and put the coffee pot on. She thought on how brave Benji had been coming out here on his own. It was more than likely without Father's knowledge, let alone his permission. She was happy to have him all the same, even though a part of her suspected he came more to visit with Arthur than on her behalf.

While she let her coffee cool some, she dressed for cold weather. Arthur's gruff warning, Make sure you take that rifle was a reminder always living on the edge of her mind. She put on her coat and made sure to sling the rifle over her shoulder as a precaution.

"Where are you off to?"

The voice startled her as it cut abruptly into the quiet of the morning. She spun to find Benji sitting up and stretching.

She buttoned her coat and didn't meet his eye. "Sleep a little more, brother. I won't be long."

Instead, Benji stood. "But what are you doing?"

Charlotte sighed and glanced at the door. There would be no getting past him and she didn't want to cause a ruckus this early in the morning. "I'm taking a short walk."

He peered around the room, obviously noticing Arthur's absence. "By yourself?"

"Would you like to join me?" she challenged.

She honestly hadn't thought he'd take her up so was surprised when he went for his shoes and coat, replying. "I'll join you."

Together, the two siblings left the house, opening the door to a blindingly white morning. She led him through the silence of the outside, boots crunching on the glittering snow. The sun had only just started lighting up the sky.

She'd already questioned Benji last night all about how everything was going for him so now she asked, "How's Clark?"

He said glumly, "Annoyingly blissful."

Bemused, she queried, "Aren't we supposed to be happy for our dear brother?"

Benji shook his head and complained, "You thought he was insufferable before. Now that he has everything he wanted, he's ten times worse in his pomposity."

"Hmm. Maybe marriage life will eventually tame that obnoxious quality." Curiosity had her continuing her inquiry. "How did Father handle the elopement? Mama was vague in her letter."

"Well...our parents took off on a ship in the Great Lakes, you and I are trekking in the snowy woods, and Clark's off in New York." His brows rose. "You tell me."

She murmured, "As I see it, I'm beginning to realize my disobedience isn't the only cause for Father's last minute departure."

He replied cheerfully, "I'm sure this trip will also sort me into the category of 'disappointing child' in Father's eyes too, if something else hasn't already." Benji looked around as they reached the bottom of the hill. "So, Char, where are we heading?"

She exhaled, white breath escaping before disappearing and her eyes drifted to their right. Somberly now, she informed him, "Cal."

He followed her gaze, nodded solemnly and fell silent.

The marker on Cal's grave was still protruding unwaveringly straight up from the ground, but it was now completely dusted in snow. Benjamin helped her brush it off. She had no flowers to offer since the winter's chill had rolled in, but she was not without a token, especially on this day.

Out of her pocket, she withdrew a wooden trinket, a Christmas ornament carved in the shape of a reindeer. She knelt, heedless of the snow and looped the string over the cross, letting it sit.

Charlotte tried not to drift into the memories of holidays past because they were sure to overwhelm her with gloomy nostalgia. She stood, but closed her eyes as pain punctured her heart over Cal's absence. Benji moved towards her and engulfed her in a wordless hug.

"Cal loved Christmas even more than you," Benji remarked eventually, in a quiet voice.

Charlotte opened her eyes, tears blurring her vision. "He did."

She'd wanted to make this visit privately, but she didn't find Benji's presence intrusive anymore. He'd known Cal too. In one aspect, it was most welcoming that she had another person to share her sorrow, someone who could remember with her the person Cal was.

Charlotte wouldn't allow herself to sink into these melancholic states anymore. From now on, she'd have to focus on the positive changes to her situation. After all, the next year was going to bring in a lot of them.

Charlotte squeezed her brother once more before pulling away, saying, "Thanks for coming, Benji."

"You're looking better this morning," Benji commented, as they made their way back up to the house.

"All I needed was some rest," she told him plaintively.

"So." Benji eyed her sideways. "How's Arthur then?"

"He's well..." She tilted her head to look up at him, suspicious of the question.

Had he picked up on Arthur's illness? She'd sought and found recipes for tonics and broths that eased Arthur's coughing, but she knew better than anyone there wasn't a cure for tuberculosis in the medical world. Tuberculin had proved ineffective eight years ago and nothing since had been produced. At least, not under the public's eye. She had no illusions as to what Arthur's future would eventually entail, but she did carry hope for a cure since medicine was continually advancing.

Benji broke into her pensive thoughts. "Arthur's a lot more interesting than he seems, isn't he?"

She gave him a knowing look so he was aware she wasn't fooled by his seemingly innocent questions. Benji had never been one for subtleties when it involved something that attracted his attention.

"What do you know?"

He looked ready to burst. He grinned broadly, more expressive than usual. "Is Arthur a former spy?"

She laughed a little as the notion surprised her. "Is he a what?"

"It's all laid out," Benji continued insistently. "From his knowledge of fighting, to the fact he's hiding out here in the middle of nowhere..."

"I live out here too, you know," she murmured, fully humored.

"He's using a false name, has no family and he's mentioned he has 'an illustrious past'. What else could all that mean?"

She chuckled in earnest now. "What on earth have you been reading lately? If you're attempting to use your deduction skills in the same manner as Sherlock Holmes, then I'm afraid your imagination has entirely run away with you."

"Clark thinks he's only some sort of brawler for money. Is that true?"

For all Charlotte knew, Arthur could have been at some point in his life. His penchant for not always confiding his past blocked her from such specific knowledge. He seemed to think if he said nothing, she wouldn't be able to see his struggles, with guilt, self-hatred, and regret.

Of course, he'd reluctantly share his mind when she asked. The problem was, she didn't always know the right question. Perhaps during Karen's stay, Charlotte would take advantage of her presence and they could have some conversations regarding their former lives. Maybe it would be the key to unlocking Arthur's silences on certain subjects.

Musing aloud, Benji asked, "Do you think Arthur can show me how to use a gun?"

"You know," Charlotte said with a raised brow, "I could show you."

He frowned and she chuckled. "Is a woman teacher not good enough for you? Or are you seeking to pester Arthur purposefully?"

Benji asked anxiously. "If I asked, would I only be annoying him?"

"No," she answered. When he didn't look convinced, she patted his hand. "I was only teasing, Benji. Arthur likes you just fine."

They reached the house, Charlotte whispering for Benji not to be too loud for the two still in bed. She went to the kettle and poured a cup of coffee. She eased quietly into the bedroom, but she needn't have been stealthy as Arthur was sitting up, dressed and putting on his boots.

"Are you going somewhere?" she asked.

Arthur watched her close the door. "Not if you ain't."

"I just returned from a stroll with Benji." At his furrowed brow, she added, "I promise you we maintained an abundance of caution after his scare."

She handed off the coffee, which he accepted with a grateful nod. "Wolves mostly hunt in the evenings anyway."

She sat beside him on the bed, studying him carefully for any signs of illness. Arthur's last couple of days hadn't been any easier on him than on her and she worried that he pushed himself too far.

"How are you this morning?"

"I survived the night at least. The rest remains to be seen." He nodded at her, watching her face. "What about you?"

"Perfectly fine," she told him. Before he could prod her further, she asked, "Are you up for some gift opening?"

He finished his coffee and set it aside. "I reckon we might as well."

Charlotte had moved their purchases from Saint Denis to the bedroom last night, not seeing any sense in making the other two feel left out of the gift-giving.

She reached into one of the bags and handed him a medium-sized package. "Open this one first."

It was a wooden box with three drawers on the front. As Arthur lifted the top, his eyes widened at what he saw. Since she'd gone through it herself, she knew each drawer contained paint brushes of varying sizes and small tubes of paints in various colors.

Charlotte rested her fingers on the lip of the box. "I thought, maybe in the evenings, we could set aside some time for our hobbies. You can draw or paint while I read. Eventually, we might find an easel if you prefer a larger canvas. Does that sound of interest to you?"

Arthur confessed, "I ain't never tried painting before."

"I have some training from school. I can show you the basics, but I'm certain your genius would soon surpass any skill of mine."

"I don't know about that," he said doubtfully. "But I thank you for your faith in me anyway."

She smiled. "In any case, it'll surely pass the time me trying to teach you something for once."

"You may come to regret it," he warned. "I ain't much for learning something new."

"That's not true and you know it," she said firmly. "You actually adapt quite well to new things and I don't see this as being any different of a situation."

"If you say so." He set the box carefully on the side table and dug through the bag on the floor. He pulled the package out that she'd seen him handling in Saint Denis. "Your turn."

A mischievous smile played at his lips as she accepted. Charlotte lifted the gift, trying to guess what it was. The shape and weight of it was consistent of a book. When she unwrapped the paper, she was proven correct. She turned it over and read the title.

"'Miss Corson's Practical American Cookery'..." she gave Arthur a wry look. "Very funny. Is this why were looking so conniving outside the print shop?"

"Yep." Arthur grinned. "Hey, I looked through it. There's some good recipes that seem simple enough for you."

She poked his shoulder. "You mock me, but I may just use this."

"I'm countin' on it, darlin'," he replied cheekily as he planted a kiss on her. "But that ain't the only thing I got you." He stood and moved to the wardrobe, opening one of the drawers.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "I have two gifts?"

Arthur cast her a look of disbelief over his shoulder. "You didn't think all I got you was a cookbook to tease you, did you?"

"Well, I—"

"Damn, you got low expectations of me."

She laughed. "Oh, stop. I only wasn't expecting it, is all." He handed off the next wrapped present and it suspiciously felt like another book, albeit longer in length. She narrowed her eyes on him. "If this is a novel on how to hone my hunting skills next, we may have words, sir."

He chuckled. "Nah. This one's better. I promise."

Charlotte pulled off the gift paper and stared a moment. It was a leather bound journal full of empty pages and she looked up at him in surprise.

Arthur glanced away now, as if he was embarrassed of it. "You told me once you had dreams of writin' the next great American novel. If that's true, I thought you might want to get started on it."

Her hand trailed across the intricate design of a deer etched on the cover. "I do remember saying that."

She'd nearly forgotten that dream. In the last six months, she'd had to put a lot of work into prepping herself and her home in order to merely survive out here. The only writing she'd managed since was correspondences to her family. Charlotte was touched by his thoughtfulness, moved beyond words.

"You can tell me if it's stupid."

She reassured him sincerely, "No, this is absolutely wonderful. I couldn't have asked for a better gift."

Just when Charlotte expected no surprises from him, Arthur caught her off guard like this. Not only was this journal a thoughtful gift, but she couldn't believe he'd been paying attention and had absorbed what she'd told him back then, when they were little more than acquaintances.

Come what may with the turn of the century, Charlotte was prepared for a continued life with Arthur. She only hoped Arthur was ready for what more she had in store for him.