Karen wished the demons that haunted her waking mind would take a break for once. She'd wanted her guilt to hold off in favor of her intrigue over Arthur's personal life. She'd kept occupied enough last night with the others. But the pleasure was short-lived and the whiskey bottle beckoned her this morning.
It wasn't her fault. She'd awakened in an unfamiliar bed, sweating, and her hands shaking in a way that had her panicking. Karen only needed a couple swigs from her whiskey bottle to return to mostly normal. Before they left the house, she managed to refrain from downing more, as tempting as it seemed after the things Charlotte had pointed out to her.
Don't you think it's time you made some changes? Thequestion kept rattling around in her mind. Charlotte had challenged her way of thinking, true, but that didn't mean nothing. It was damn near impossible to shake the past.
Could she even make changes at this point in her life? She was broke, with no support and no job skills unless she wanted to make a living at the saloon. She had too much of a mouth to get far in that line of work. She'd either kill a man or wind up dead real quick.
Although the notion of a future ultimately seemed pointless, somehow Karen couldn't stop herself from musing over one. Even so, she couldn't see what Charlotte saw. The problem was, Karen knew Charlotte's type: a fixer. Mary-Beth had been the same damn way. They were both too goddamn optimistic in their outlooks while Karen knew what to actually expect out there.
And what did Charlotte expect her to do anyway? She was a rich widow with barely the concept of the real world's treatment of people like Karen.
How the hell Arthur had landed an innocent, know-nothing woman like Charlotte, Karen kept scratching her head over. The woman was somehow genuinely content with a man like Arthur, a brute who had been a part of one the most notorious gangs in the area.
Personally, Karen didn't understand either one of them. If she was in Charlotte's shoes, with her own house and no husband to answer to, she wouldn't have invited a man to live with her. She'd relish in the freedom.
"Are you comfortable back there, Karen?" Charlotte turned in her seat from beside Arthur, interrupting Karen's thoughts.
"Sure."
The small wagon was not exactly made for passengers, but she'd situated herself well enough. Arthur had considerately laid down a blanket and Karen had bundled up for their short journey. The afternoon was passing and bringing with it clouds and snow flurries.
Ben rode beside them when the trail was wide enough and dropped back behind her when it narrowed. He'd fallen silent after Arthur's barbershop story, his brow furrowed deep in contemplation.
As the wagon rumbled through the outskirts of Annesburg, Charlotte pointed, "Look, it seems they've stopped work at the factory."
"I'll be damned." Arthur scratched his chin. "They're actually givin' them poor fools a day off?"
"I wonder if they've closed the mine today too," Charlotte said thoughtfully. "Since Mr. Cornwall's passing, the people in town have claimed Mr. Jameson hasn't been as strict of an employer since he doesn't travel up here often."
At Cornwall's mention, Arthur's shoulders stiffened up visibly even under his coat and Karen caught a glimpse of Charlotte's concern regarding his tendency to secrecy.
"Is that so?" Arthur mumbled a response.
If he tensed up in such a painfully obvious manner after any mention of something he knew and didn't want to talk about, it was no wonder Charlotte was burning with questions.
As far as Cornwall went, Karen vaguely remembered mention of the man. It was his train they'd robbed while still up in Colter. Cornwall was also the reason they'd had to leave Valentine. Yet, she didn't know the particulars, especially over what would make Arthur go so quiet here and now. Irritatingly, she was in the dark as much as Charlotte.
Arthur pulled up near a building that had once been a brewery. A banner hung over the sign of the former name. It read:
'CHRISTMAS EXTRAVAGANZA
Welcome all New Hanover residents!'
Karen suspected the invite didn't extend to the Murfrees infesting the woods and caves in the area. Then again, it was unlikely any of them could read anyway.
Ben hitched his horse and rushed over to the back of the wagon as Karen stood, holding out his hand, palm up. "Miss Jones."
She'd already pegged him as someone who was eager to please. Since she'd come to the realization he was rich, she'd grown wary of him. However, he hadn't revealed any snobbishness yet so she'd been willing to give him a chance.
Before they could enter the Christmas party, a man in a fur coat leaning against the building and smoking, waved them over. "Hey, hey. Remember me, mister?"
"Sure." Arthur stopped in front of him, his lips twitching. "Ain't you that fella who got himself stuck in his own trap?"
"Just so." The man laughed, taking no offense. "Jenkins, it is." He slapped his leg. "She's all healed up, but I got a limp to my gait now."
"That so?" Arthur nodded to indicate an arm he had in a sling. "What's wrong with your arm?"
Jenkins winced, raising his sling. "Er, had another isolated incident tryin' to shoot a buck. I missed the shot and the damn deer sought revenge. Nearly tore off the arm when it came back 'round."
"You ever think maybe you ain't cut out to be a hunter?" Arthur asked him.
"Nah, nonsense, friend. Just had a string of bad luck recently, is all." Jenkins waved a hand. "Well, don't let me keep you and yours from the festivities. Merry Christmas, feller."
As they entered the building, Karen's first impression was of the dozens and dozens of people milling around. Not only that, but how the ratio of men to women at this party was five to one.
"Looks like the whole damn town is here," Arthur grumbled uneasily.
A mighty tree took up the center of the room, littered with ornaments, ribbon and cascading silver tinsel. On the right side, adults and children alike were participating in a variety of carnival games: bobbing for apples, a ring toss and a tub where children frantically searched for a duck with a star on the bottom. As Karen watched, a little girl let out an excited screech when she found the correct duck.
A banquet table was set up on the left wall of the room. Most people were sitting around a line of tables in light conversation. Karen's gaze stopped with interest when she spotted the bar in the back of the room.
Arthur must've seen her ogling the filled bottles because he cautioned, "You take it easy on the hooch tonight."
She could handle her liquor fine. "It's a goddamn party, Arthur."
Karen rolled her eyes and her sight landed on a man on the edge of the party-goers. He stared intently in their direction and consulted two women next to him. At the younger woman's nod, his eyes fixed on Arthur, narrowing. When he began striding towards them, facing them fully, Karen realized he wasn't any random citizen. It was the goddamn sheriff. All that shit in Rhodes and now they were about to have trouble in Annesburg too?
Karen warned, "Arthur..."
When the sheriff reached them, he wasn't alone. The woman and presumably her daughter trailed after. The trio stopped in front of them, all of their focus on Arthur.
The sheriff scrunched up his sourpuss face. "So, this is the fella, is it?"
"That's him," confirmed the older lady.
"You, sir," said the sheriff, jutting his thumb at the young woman with brown hair. "You remember this here girl?"
What the hell had Arthur done now?
Arthur's eyes strayed to her. His shoulders tensed and he answered with some confusion, "Miss Meredith?"
The sheriff moved in front of Arthur and Karen thought for a second he was going to clap him in handcuffs. Instead, the sheriff forced him into a handshake. "Meredith's my niece, sir. If I'd a-known it was you who saved her from those Murfree bastards, I woulda dropped in on you at Willard's."
Charlotte studied the girl with interest while Ben's eyebrows rose. Karen felt like rolling her eyes again. Arthur running around playing hero again? Why wasn't she surprised?
"It was nothin'," Arthur replied to the sheriff, clearly uncomfortable as his hand remained trapped in a shake. "It was only chance I found her in the first place."
The sheriff finally released him. "Not many folks can go up against them cannibals and come back alive, let me tell you. You saved a life, sir. My sister and I owe you."
Arthur protested again, "I didn't do nothin'—"
The older woman moved in front of the sheriff and rested a hand on Arthur's arm. "I'm Etta Buckley, Meredith's mother. We weren't introduced properly and I'm sorry for that, Mr...?"
"Er, Mor—Callahan. Arthur Callahan, ma'am."
"Thank you for bringing my girl back, Mr. Callahan," Mrs. Buckley said warmly. "If ever there is a favor I can do for you, please don't hesitate to come calling."
Arthur shifted on his feet. "Sure."
Etta beckoned, "Come here, Meredith."
A shy girl emerged from behind them. A pretty thing who would be fighting off the boys in the next year or so, if she wasn't already. Her blue eyes were wide and innocent, her brown hair cascading ringlets around her face as a tidy bow pinned back the rest in a loose plaited style.
Blushing, not meeting anyone's eyes, the girl stammered out, "Th-thank you again, sir."
"Ain't no thanks necessary, miss," Arthur told her. "Long as you're lookin' after yourself, that's all the gratitude I need."
The pink on her cheeks darkened to red. "Yes, sir."
The sheriff clapped him on the shoulder. "You need help with something 'round here, you let me know, Mr. Callahan."
Arthur released an uneasy smile. "Sure, Sheriff."
"Sheriff Adam Jones, Mr. Callahan. Say," the man went on, "Schultz, the gunsmith, says you're a hunter..."
They continued some boring nonsense about hunting and Karen decided she was done listening. If she heard another word about Arthur being a do-gooder, she was going to throw up.
"Come on, Ben, let's find something fun to do."
She hooked her arm through his and started walking before he said yes or no either way. Instead of heading for the food or activities, she defiantly made her way straight to the bar, dragging Ben with her.
She'd thought being at a party, around other people who didn't know anything about her, would have distracted her enough from her own mind. Instead, it brought her dormant guilt to the forefront.
Karen wasn't like Arthur. She didn't have the compulsion to 'do the right thing' all the time. She glanced back at him in the middle of a conversation. With the goddamn sheriff. As nervous and reluctant as Arthur had been to come down here, now he was cracking a smile at whatever had been said. She didn't recognize him. Charlotte said he struggled with belonging, but that was bullshit. He fit in just fine with these folk.
What did Charlotte know anyway? Her words felt like ash in Karen's mind now, disappearing as if they never were. Charlotte was ignorant of Karen's situation. Her brain was as full of happy endings and fairy tales as the other girls.
Karen's life was never going to come out like that. Did she have dreams? 'Course she did, but she was also realistic. The harm she'd caused to a woman who had only needed a listening ear was an action she could never receive forgiveness for.
There was only one way to rid herself of these wretched feelings of culpability.
Karen waved her hand, trying to get the attention of the bartender. "Can we get a couple of drinks over here?"
The wildly mustachioed bartender either didn't hear her or he was purposely ignoring a woman in favor of his male patrons crowding the bar area. She wasn't above causing a scene to get a goddamn drink.
"Hello, miss," greeted someone beside her, halting her plans to create a spectacle.
Karen turned to find a man her age or younger. He shook his head of brown hair. "Ain't never seen you around here before."
"You're seeing me now." She winked. "What do you think?"
He glanced at the door and back to her. "Did you come here with Miss Balfour?"
"Sure did." Karen eyed him, at the fervent interest in his stare. "What's it to you?"
"Miss Balfour and I are friends," the man claimed. "My name's Johnny Goodfellow."
"Karen Jones."
He tilted his head. "Jones, huh? You a relation of the sheriff's?"
Karen snorted. "Hell no."
"You livin' in Annesburg?"
"No."
"Where you from?"
This man was a snoop of the highest order. She answered vaguely, "All over."
"You here to stay, Miss Jones?"
"I ain't decided." She leaned close to him and smiled. "Here's your chance to convince me, Johnny. How about you fetch me a drink?"
He studied her a moment before a grin took over. "What'll it be, miss?"
"Whiskey," she answered easily, as his eyebrows rose.
"Coming right up."
When Johnny was out of earshot, Ben said, "Arthur said we shouldn't drink."
Karen had nearly forgotten he was nearby. He was quiet when he wanted to be. If he weren't no stuck up rich boy, he'd make an excellent spy. No one would ever notice a gentleman of few words.
"No," Karen finally answered him, "he said 'take it easy'. Ain't you ever been to a party?"
"Yes, but Arthur—"
"Arthur this, Arthur that," Karen snapped, impatient, "He ain't my boss and I'll do what I want."
Ben frowned unhappily at that answer, but she ignored him in favor of Johnny returning with two shot glasses. Rudely, he hadn't offered or brought Ben a drink, but she wasn't sure if it offended him or not. If it had, Karen wasn't his keeper. Ben could get his own drink.
Johnny lifted his shot. "To new acquaintances."
Karen clinked her glass on his and threw the shot back. The whiskey burned for a brief moment, but mostly it was smooth. It warmed her throat before spreading quickly down to her extremities. Damn, that was some good shit. Better than the swill she'd been stuck with recently.
She grinned. "Keep 'em coming, Johnny boy."
After the third shot, Karen had forgotten what the hell had her so strung up when they'd walked in. With each drink, she'd moved closer to Johnny, laughing at his stupid jokes and listening to his boring farm stories. They seemed more interesting with every passing moment.
Johnny secured them two bar stools and when they sat, she found herself leaning into him so closely, she could feel the heat of his breath. She studied him as best she could without tilting off the stool. He wasn't ugly or nothing. He didn't have no marks on his face 'cept a mole on his left cheek.
"Miss Jones," Ben interrupted her examination.
She blinked and turned her head. His brow was furrowed with worry, the opposite expression of easy-going Johnny. He also kept glancing at something across the room. His sobriety was killing her mood.
She pushed him away, snapping, "If you ain't gonna partake, get outta my sight. I'm here to have fun."
"But, Miss Jones—"
"Let the lady do what she wants," slurred Johnny, brushing his shoulder with hers.
Ben scowled at the other man and addressed her instead. "Charlotte wanted me to stick by you."
"Charlotte," Karen said mockingly. "Charlotte the hypocrite. She thinks she's so innocent, but she's as bad as any of us."
Ben frowned down at her. "What do you mean?"
Karen framed her mouth with her hands and whispered loudly, "She's hidin' a criminal."
Confusion furrowed his brow. "Do you mean Arthur?"
"Yeah, you dumb shit. He's a wanted man. An outlaw."
He paled and looked across the room. "Does my sister know that?"
"'Course she does." A giggle bubbled to the surface as she proclaimed loudly, "We're all outlaws 'round here!"
Johnny starting laughing at that and teetered on his stool. His near fall set Karen into a giggling fit.
"Miss Jones," Ben said in undertones. "Begging your pardon, but I think you've had enough now."
"I knew you were a snob." She pointed at him. "All you men are bastards."
"Bastards!" Johnny repeated like it was some grand joke.
Ben disappeared from her side, but she didn't need him anyway. Johnny was the more favorable company right now. She planted a kiss on his cheek in approval of his sticking by her. His mouth widened in a lopsided grin.
Her and Johnny decided to dance and Karen lost track of time after that. She stumbled into people, never bothering to apologize. This was a party. Why should she?
At some point, someone grabbed her by the arm and yanked her away from Johnny. She twisted to swat whoever had stopped her fun, but it was only Arthur.
"What the hell are you doin'?" he grouched at her.
"Traitor..." she slurred accusingly in Ben's direction, where he stood behind Arthur.
"Ben, get your sister and pull up the wagon."
"Yes, sir."
Annoyed, Karen declared, "Here he is! Arthur Morgan, the savior of us all."
"Shh!" Arthur started pulling her away. "Keep your damn mouth shut."
"I ain't leavin'." Karen tried to escape his grasp, but his hold was unrelenting. "You know, for a sick fucker, you're still strong."
"Shut up," he hissed in her ear. He dragged her to the back door and snapped it open, pushing her outside.
Shit, it was cold and it cut through the fogginess of her mind. She'd lost her coat inside and the air was sharp as it touched the back of her arms.
Arthur stated, "You're drunk."
"This ain't drunk," she argued, a giggle slipping. "I barely feel nothin'."
"Sounds like drunk talk to me." He shook his head. "Do you know what you done?"
Karen laughed, the sound hollow and dark to her ears. Did she know what she'd done? That was the whole goddamn problem. She knew too well the consequences when she drank, but the knowledge never managed to deter her.
"You cryin'?" Arthur asked, aghast.
"No."
"What the hell's wrong with you?"
"It was my fault," she whispered, unable to hold in what was paining her the most. Tears rushed from her eyes. "My goddamn fault."
"What was?" he asked, but she fell silent. He hated her now. He'd hate her more when he found out.
Arthur hauled her around the building. Karen let him lead her, but when she spotted the wagon, she started to resist again. She tried to dig her heels in slippery snow. "I ain't goin'. It's a party."
"Get in the damn wagon before I throw you in."
"No!"
Charlotte was next to her then, covering Karen's shoulders with her coat. "It's time we head home now, Miss Jones. Party's over for the night."
Karen didn't know when it happened, but dusk had fallen. How much time had she lost in that bar? The idea distracted Karen enough to be herded into the back of the wagon.
Arthur pulled himself into the driver's seat and Karen suddenly stood. "I'm gonna be sick if I ride."
Charlotte entered the back of the wagon, blocking her exit. "I'll sit with you to make sure you don't."
Charlotte sat, tugging on Karen's hand until she reluctantly joined her. It was a tight squeeze with the two of them. Charlotte wrapped her arm around Karen's shoulders. As Arthur got the wagon moving, Karen closed her eyes rested her head on Charlotte.
The night was silent, the merry noises of celebration getting farther and farther away. Soon, the only sounds Karen heard were the wagon wheels creaking and horses' hooves crunching the snow.
Charlotte asked quietly, "What's wrong, dear?"
Hot tears burned a trail down Karen's cheeks. "I ain't...good."
"Come now," Charlotte squeezed her. "There's no need to think like that."
The winter chill sharpened its edges on Karen's exposed skin, clearing her mind up some. Enough to realize she'd probably ruined the night for more than one person.
"You seen me," Karen said bitterly. "I can't do nothin' else but this. I'm stuck."
"Well...certainly, we can always improve ourselves."
Arthur snorted from the front seat, but Charlotte ignored him, saying softly, "However, if you find yourself in a hole, Miss Jones..."
Karen lifted her head and met a pair of compassionate eyes full of sincerity. "Yeah?"
"The first thing you need to do is to stop digging."