Clemens Point, May 1899

Arthur sat at the table in the middle of camp underneath the buckeye. His eyelids drooped heavily as the sun shone through his skin, covering his vision in a blood orange spectre. His coffee has long since gone cold and his shoulders hunched with the sleepless night finally starting to take its toll.

Yet it seemed every second there was a sound that would alert him, knocking him from his half sleeping state. An order being barked out by Ms Grimshaw, Jack running around as he laughed to himself whilst Sadie and Pearson squabble about one chore or another.

'Hey, Arthur...'

Arthur looked up, blinking slower than he thought was humanly possible.

'Miss Tilly,' Arthur nodded, as he stifled a yawn, leaning back in his chair to stretch out his back.

'You look tired,' she said, handing him a tin of warm coffee with a soft smile as she settled into the chair opposite him.

Arthur took the offered cup of steaming liquid gratefully, with a small grunt in agreement.

He watched her face crease with worry as she rested her chin in her hand.

'You ain't slept yet?' she said, her eyes searching over him, as his fist rubbed at his eyes and the coffee filled his mouth.

'Wanted to make sure we weren't followed,' he said, avoiding her mild scrutiny.

Although there was some truth to his words, it wasn't exactly the entirety of it. He had tried to sleep when he arrived back at camp in early hours, but after several attempts, tossing and turning in his cot, as his mind filled with nothing but Miss Edwards. He had decided at some point in the early hours he would rather just distract himself with the nature around camp than stare at the canvas for one damn second longer.

'Did the job go alright?' she said, as she leant down to the floor, rummaging around for something underneath the table.

He sighed, taking another sip of the thick, bitter drink.

'Well, aside from Uncle havin' shit for brains,' Arthur said, rolling up his shirt sleeves ''bout as good as it could have done.'

Tilly sat up straight, a small rectangular box in her hand as she laid it on the wooden surface. Arthur's eyes narrowed on it suspiciously.

'What you got there?' he asked as Tilly leaned down and began opening it.

'Well, if you ain't gonna sleep,' she said with a wry smile, 'thought we could play a game of dominos.'

He chuckled to himself, adjusting himself in the chair in an attempt to wake himself up.

'It might help take your mind off things,' she added, spreading the dominos across the table and shuffling them across the table's surface.

'I don't know,' Arthur said, rubbing his eyes again. 'Don't reckon I'll be able to concentrate right now.'

Tilly rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She leaned forward, picking up seven tiles, clearly in no mood to barter as to whether Arthur was going to play or not.

She placed down a double six in the middle of the table, her brown eyes flicking between his face and her cradle.

With a heavy sigh and little thought, Arthur picked up a six-four, with no care as to whether he would win or not.

'Dutch still got you runnin' about the place?' Tilly said with knitted eyebrows as she tapped through her tiles with a delicate finger.

'Ah, you know how it is,' he said, offering a small smile, 'money don't grow on trees.'

They exchanged turns for a while, one tile after another as it snaked its way around the table.

'So what's she like then?' Tilly said with a wry smile on her lips as her voice dropped to a whisper.

'What's who like?' Arthur said, knowing full well what the girl was getting at.

Tilly placed her hands together and turned her eyes to the side, letting out a slow breath.

He knew the girls' whispers and giggled to themselves whilst they did chores around camp. He supposed it was born out of boredom or Mary-Beth trying to turn anything into some damn story like the books she's filled her head with.

It wasn't like Arthur was running round with a big grin on him like some love stricken fool every time he returned to camp. Or at least, he hoped he didn't.

'You know who, Arthur. Trelawny's niece!' She giggled as Arthur's eyes darted around nervously, mainly in hopes that Dutch wasn't too close by.

'It's just another job,' he said, placing down another tile.

'I didn't think it was anythin' else,' she giggled, kicking him playfully under the table. 'Just wanted to know what she was like, was all.' Tilly shrugged.

Arthur knew when he was being toyed with and knew exactly what was happening.

'Well, she ain't like Trelawny, that's for sure,' he grumbled, staring at the tiles and hoping Tilly would drop the matter sooner rather than later.

A twist formed in his stomach about last night. Every other thought seemed to be about Amelia, how they laughed together so easily, how he felt so vulnerable around her and wanted more. The look in her eyes as he held her, and how like a fool he walked away, leaving her in the darkness.

It would have been too easy to kiss her, to know her in that way and get completely lost with her. Yet he couldn't and he knew that. It cut deeper than he liked to admit.

All he would do was put her in more danger, tangle her up in one mess or another. She deserves better. They all did. He had seen what happened to the women who were somehow stupid enough to get involved with him.

He couldn't bear to watch it happen to Amelia, too. But there was that selfish part of him that continued to whisper to him, that told him to reach out to her, to hold her, to tell all of his secrets to her.

He wasn't even sure what the hell he would say to her next time he was ordered to the estate. That he was sorry? That he was the biggest idiot of them all? That he couldn't offer her a damn thing aside from a life of heartache or a bullet in her chest?

Arthur sighed to himself, lost in his own thoughts, as Tilly clicked her fingers in front of his face. Pulling himself away from his racing away, he looked up at her.

'It's your turn, Arthur,' she said, as she gestured at the table.

He placed down another tile, barely acknowledging the numbers, as he could feel Tilly's gaze on him.

'Sure seems like you're distracted,' she said with a raised eyebrow.

'Just tired,' he grumbled in response, finishing his coffee in a greedy gulp even though, once again, he had let it turn tepid.

Arthur played his next two tiles, watching their progress slowly slide along the board, each move feeling like an eternity. As soon as both sides were complete, they stared at one another with unspoken conversation passing between the pair of them.

'Arthur!' a voice called from behind him, as Arthur turned around to see Lenny walking towards him, a wide smile on his lips.

'Yes, kid?' Arthur said, as Tilly slowly started to collect the tiles.

'You got a lot on?' Lenny said, standing next to him, his hat crumpled to the side.

'Well, between huntin' for hillbilly gold, runnin' from the Pinkertons...' he trailed off, realising he sounded more sarcastic than he meant to. 'What's up?'

Tilly stood, waving a goodbye at both of the men, clearing sensing the same as Arthur.

'I got something,' Lenny beamed, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. 'Could be good.'

Arthur rubbed his eyes, willing away his exhaustion, looking at the man expectantly.

'I was in Rhodes talking to some of the coloured folk,' Lenny began as he squatted down, resting his hands on his knees, 'they said there was a gang of fools holed up in the swamps east of here who think their war ain't ever ended.'

Arthur furrowed his brow, tilting his head to the side.

'The Civil War?' Arthur said as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket.

'Yeah, apparently it's still raging in these fools' minds thirty years later, but that ain't my point.'

Arthur lit the stick in his mouth. He had heard of the Lemoyne Raiders. Hell even had the odd scuffle with them a few times. Once again, his mind drifted back to Amelia. She had questioned whether the attack on her property was because of these men. Would make a hell of a lot of sense for a bunch of folk who still think slavery was their God given to right to cause a raucous with a woman who tried to give those sorts of people an honest and fair life.

'These ignorant fools are weapons dealers,' Lenny said, catching Arthur's attention, 'and in their dealings, sometimes sit on a pile of cash.'

It seemed almost too good to be true. Could be a damn fine opportunity to get the gang back on track money wise.

'They've been selling weapons to Cuba and South America for years!' Lenny chimed, as Arthur nodded, slowly weighing up the proposal.

He knew Lenny's agenda ran far deeper than just the cash, and even if Arthur thought it was a weak lead, he doubted Lenny would let the matter lie when it came to the racist pieces of shit. He took another draw on the cigarette, holding it to his lips.

'Well, it's worth takin' a look at the very least,' Arthur said as he stood from the chair.

'That was my thinking,' Lenny said, standing also, 'the fella I was talking to said it was at some place named Shady Belle deep in the woods.'

Suddenly, it was as though all the tiredness dissolved from his body like a shallow puddle on a summer's day. It would give him a distraction as the anticipation of a fight bubbled inside of him.

'Alright,' Arthur said with a smirk, slapping the younger man on the shoulder, 'lead on.'

They both made their way through camp towards the horses, the sun beating down on them as the river danced slowly beneath them.

And so they rode deep into the heart of Lemoyne. Arthur followed Lenny. Followed him and the red sand until it gave way to the sticky heat of the swamps. They had managed to find an old abandoned church, remnants of the old war still scattered around, signalling they were no doubt closer to the Raiders.

It wasn't long before a wagon came past, on the tracks close with what Arthur suspected was crates of explosives on the back. He signalled for Lenny to follow him as they both pulled their horses into a slow trot.

'Let's keep our distance,' he said over his shoulder, 'just two fellas out on the road.'

Lenny and his horse pulled beside him, as the trees became denser and a flock of wild turkey gobbled in the brush as they rode past.

'I think I see something... end of the avenue,' Lenny said, pointing as Arthur adjusted himself in the saddle to see past the wagon. He could see the silhouette of a large building nestled in the forest.

'Might be it,' he said. 'Keep it steady.'

They followed the wagon down the trail as Arthur led Montague into the bushes, as Lenny followed. Silently, they both leapt from the saddle, hitched their mounts and crept their way towards the front of the estate.

Arthur looked through the scope of his rifle. They certainly weren't short of men, as Arthur counted at least ten.

'We doin' this? Arthur said, peering over to Lenny, who was crouching on the wall opposite.

'Don't think we got a choice if we want those guns,' he whispered back as Arthur nodded and allowed the calm to fill his heart.

He squeezed the trigger, as delicate as picking petals, as the first man dropped and the ring of terror sounded around them.

The rest of the Raiders ran in every other direction, but they still weren't quick enough. Arthur fired another two rounds, both as victorious as the last as another two bodies joined the dirt.

Lenny pushed forward as Arthur covered him. Although the birds sang their summer song and the snow had long since melted, it felt like all those months ago on Cornwall's train. Calm, patient, methodical.

The Raiders were panicked plenty, and all it took was one badly timed peak over their shitty ramparts to earn a bullet splitting their brain in half.

Shoot one, maybe two, move forward. Close in on them. That was the silent agreement between Arthur and Lenny, and it worked every damn time.

Keeping his head low after the last of the bullets had fallen, Arthur had counted twelve of the Raiders, but instead he saw eleven hit the ground.

'Think we got 'em all?' Lenny said, reading his thoughts.

'Keep down, kid. Think there's one more,' Arthur said.

Peering over the shot up crate he was using as a shield, Arthur glanced around the abandoned and ruined plantation house. Nothing but swamps, bugs and gators, but he knew he hadn't miscounted.

The only means of escape was through them, and unless the bastard braved the infested rivers, he hadn't got too far.

Keeping his ears pricked, Arthur moved slowly from behind the crate, knowing deep in his gut the last of the Raiders was still hidden close by.

'I'll draw him out,' Arthur said in a low tone to Lenny, who remained still with his pistol clutched tightly. 'Try'n keep this one alive. Got a few questions for our friend.'

Lenny nodded, shifting himself as he remained crouched. Arthur took a deep breath, locking eyes with the wide, fat cypress tree that stood on the other side of the Manor. Seemed as good a place as any.

Gripping his pistol, he shuffled on his feet slightly as he stood, breaking into a full run. As expected, the sound of gunfire surrounded him, the sodden ground shooting up leaves from where the bullets landed.

He pushed as much force as he could into his legs as the twigs and peat squelched and hissed underneath his boots.

Arthur almost dove headfirst into the trunk, firmly slamming his back into the bark as his chest heaved. It was times like this, he really was starting to feel his age.

He peered around over his shoulder as a bullet sang through the air, far closer to his abdomen than he would have liked. As he listened and pulled on the hammer of the gun with his thumb, he waited a moment, then another until all sound had stopped.

It was a gamble every damn time, yet the odds of losing were never in his favour. Very few gunmen were as well trained as they thought they were, especially after they had seen their men drop to ground one after the other as they shat themselves, their brains, guts and blood mingling with the earth like freshly cooked stew.

They would wait cornered, thinking the same as he did. Wait for the world to fall silent around them as the leaves fell, and the birds flew overhead. Didn't matter though. They were never as quick as he was.

He drew in a breath, long and deep as he pulled his elbow up, nothing but trees and mosquitoes around him.

Arthur didn't even bother to peer. He knew where the foe was, knew what he wanted and exhaled slowly, forcing all the air from his lungs. He saw the target, smaller than a rabbit. A bobble of a kneecap as he squeezed the trigger all the way to the back of the guard as the bullet pushed through the air with a pop and a cry.

There was only a few seconds he had to make it over to the Raider before the pain the idiot felt was enough to do something real stupid.

As expected, the man had forsaken his firearm, piss fresh on his pants as his hands clutched to the wound, screaming the same bloody scream that all those before him sang.

Arthur didn't even bother to brandish his weapon as he slotted the smoking barrel back into his holster, allowing it to sleep before it was required to be his puppet of death again.

'Want me to get him, Arthur?' he heard Lenny call from behind him, followed by his footfall.

'Nah, s'all good kid,' he said, barely taking his eyes off of the Raider, who continued to wail and cry all manner of incoherent sounds as the blood poured over his fingers and down his leg.

Arthur strode over to him, hate in heart and a single focus on his mind. He was gonna make him sing real pretty.

Grabbing the man's shirt, Arthur didn't even bother to threaten him as he pulled his elbow back and smashed his clenched fist into the man's face, silencing him for only a moment.

'Now, you ain't got a lot of choice here, friend,' Arthur snarled at him, spitting falling from his teeth. 'I'm gonna ask you some questions, and you're gonna answer them, understand me?'

The man nodded meekly with damp eyes, his sparse facial hair catching the stray tears.

'Arthur… I think we got all the guns,' Lenny said, a slight note of uncertainty in his voice as he removed the lids from one of the crates, pulling out a rifle.

'Good,' Arthur said with a sharp nod. 'I'll finish my talk with our friend here, and we'll head back to camp.'

Lenny nodded in agreement, looking around the long abandoned grounds. He always liked that about Lenny. No questions, just straight on the job.

'You been to Scarlett Meadows past few weeks?' Arthur asked, yanking the man closer up to his face, who gave no fight against him.

'No… no I ain't, sir. Swear it!' his voice shook as his eyes darted all over Arthur's face, barely even blinking.

'Oh, you'll be swearing,' Arthur said, as he smashed his fist into the Raiders' face again. 'Any o'your buddies been that way?'

The man swallowed thickly, as he held up an arm in defence.

'I don't know, please just… just let me go,' he whimpered.

'You ain't going anywhere.' Arthur said with another punch, 'I don't think you understand how this works.'

The man let out a short cry, his face scrunching, expecting another hit. Arthur loosened his grip on the man's uniform, letting him fall to the sodden earth. Before he could move, Arthur stood straight, placing his boot firmly on the man's chest.

'Now, I'm gonna give you a second to think real hard, you hear?' He put pressure into his foot, as the man's breath turned to a shallow hearing, 'because if you don't, I can be a real nasty feller.'

'I'll t…tell… you,' the man panted, grabbing at Arthur's boots, 'I'll tell you anything but… I don't k…know much, I swear!'

'I'll decide that. When was the last time you was at Scarlett Meadows?' Arthur said, pulling a cigarette out from his satchel.

'About… four weeks ago… somethin' like that…' the man said, his eyes fixating on the cigarette as Arthur lit it. 'But… but we didn't hurt nobody!'

'Hear that, Lenny?' Arthur said over his shoulder as he took a long and patient drag of his cigarette. 'The shit eatin' racist thinks he ain't hurt no one.'

Lenny let out a laugh, spectating the performance before him, his gun still ready to fire.

Arthur slowly moved his boot up to the man's throat, not completely on it but enough to give the Raider an idea of what was coming next.

'Do any raids on a big fancy house up there?' Arthur said, tapping his foot slightly as the Raider gave a small squirm.

'No…. none!' He almost screamed, trying to throw Arthur off balance. Not that it would work, never did when a foot was pressed just close enough to snap the delicate bones like a fish spine.

Arthur knelt once again, rolling the cigarette between his index finger and thumb.

'Sure about that?' he said, looking slowly between the man and the hot ash.

'No house…. I swear!'

Arthur chuckled mercilessly, a dark sound that was like distant rolling thunder.

'I heard a very different story,' he said and in a flash Arthur placed his cigarette into the corner of his mouth, removed his foot from the Raiders throat and bent down grabbing at the front of his jacket again, heaving him from the earth and throwing him against the crates beside him with a clatter.

'See, what I hear,' Arthur began closing the space as his cigarette bounced dangerously in his lips as the Raider tried to pull his head away from the lit end as far as possible, 'I hear, there was a couple o'fellers who stormed one of the estates, shot a few folk and tried to steal some horses…'

'Sir, please!' The man squirmed. 'We don't care about no horses.'

The Raider was sobbing now, his face slick with salty tears and snot falling from his nose.

Arthur's eyes hardened at him, completely unmoved by the man's condition. It was the closest he came to getting some decent answers for the attempted robbery at the Edwards Estate and after the last time he saw Amelia; he didn't want to return empty-handed.

Not that he was even sure if he was welcome back. He couldn't imagine that she felt too kindly to him after he turned his back to her and left without a word.

Unlike the pathetic sight in front of him, he felt the pain that he caused Amelia, the look in her eyes as he let go of her. He told himself time and time again it was for her good, for her protection, but he was just a coward. An old, dumb coward who had no idea what she even saw in him, anyway.

Just then, the anger boiled over, like a pot of thick coffee to be used to coax an inferno. An inferno he felt deep inside and in every inch of his bones. Arthur felt utterly hopeless to all the grief, the anger, the wanting and needing.

He had plans for the Raider, to do what they did and drip every last bit of information out of him but he was beyond the point of seeing sense.

He was stuck in his own purgatory of everything he hated about himself and everything he wanted to fix in this damn world. The world that he wanted Amelia to be shielded from, a world that was never going to be for the likes of her.

He grabbed the man's hair, stepped back and threw the side of his face into the edge of the crate as Arthur allowed the mist to consume him, an unbridled rage of nothing but darkness and the complete unknown. It was a place where he revelled, a place only for the dead.

Again and again, the sound fell around him, the crunch of bone followed by the soft gloop of inside matter. It was too easy, as the Raider fell silent, and Arthur kept going. It wasn't as though he could see it, he knew exactly what was going on, exactly what he was doing. It was just that he didn't give a damn at that moment.

His breath rose, the excretion talking him down from whatever bestial plane he had found himself in. The lifeless body fell to the floor, a lump of contused meat as Arthur sucked hard on his smoked, filling his lungs with as much as he could.

'You all good?' Lenny said, a distant sound, a sound from a world he no longer felt a part of. Like a ghost stuck in their unseen veil, screaming and wanting to be seen.

'Fine,' Arthur mumbled, detached from anything.

It was a simple task. Find the men, take the guns, get some information. Yet there was a part of him that every time things like this happen, hell, things like this he allowed to happen, another piece of him died. A secret promise to the devil, another bargaining chip for another day on this earth with a price he would pay later.

Not that he really believed in any of that bullshit but all the stories he was told as a child, the battle of good versus evil, God and the devil - seemed a fit way of explaining it to himself and the monsters that lay deep in his heart.

'Got a fair few Carnacos, couple of Evans and some Schofields. Enough to restock at camp and sell the rest for a pretty penny,' Lenny said, wasting no time in pulling out the guns and inspecting each one.

'Sure thing,' Arthur said, throwing the butt of his cigarette to the ground.

'Even a bottle of Kentucky in here…' Lenny whistled, admiring the crystal glass. 'Sure, a few swigs won't go amiss.'

He threw the bottle at Arthur, who caught it without much thought, taking a long, deep swig of the burning liquor.

'Best get back to camp,' Arthur said without little else as he skulked towards Montague and allowed Lenny to grab the rest of the weapons.

The journey back was filled with a silence that was unusual for the kid. The guilt and regret of the way Arthur had handled the situation crept through him as his anger floated away. He knew he was wrong for what he did, but he knew himself well enough to know that he'd do it again in a blink of an eye.

Yet there was that other part of him, the secret whispers he tried so desperately to ignore, to argue and reason with, that kept him company on the way back to camp. He knew why he did what he did, smashing that boy's head open like a rotten apple. Perhaps it really was time to admit to himself how he really felt. How he felt about her.