John stood at the entrance to the Shady Belle camp, wishing for Pearson to finish cooking and hoping Abigail would bring him a meal soon. Somehow, he'd gotten stuck with the early guard shift and he couldn't say he preferred it.
After a few hours with only himself for company, Charles settled nearby on a crate and began wrapping arrows.
John pointed. "What are you makin' there?"
"Fire arrows," Charles told him solemnly. "We should be better prepared in case those O'Driscolls come around again."
John nodded. "How much to make me some of those?"
Charles paused in his work and looked up. "Do you know how to use a bow? Or even own one?"
John winced. Dumb ass. "No. I guess I don't."
Charles smiled a little. "I taught Arthur to hunt with a bow. It can't be any more difficult to teach you."
"Thanks," John said. "As long as I ain't made fun of for tryin'."
"That's half the teaching."
Uncle eventually ambled over to them. He took a spot near John and crossed his arms with a smug look on his face.
"What is it, old man?" John asked irritably when it didn't appear Uncle was going away anytime soon.
"Oh, nothing."
"Will you just tell me and be on your goddamn way?"
Uncle frowned. "Why's everyone so goddamn pissy today?"
"Maybe 'cause you keep walkin' up to them."
"You talk to me like that some more and I won't want to tell you what I seen."
"Maybe I don't want to hear it."
But John had known Uncle since childhood. The old fool couldn't keep his damn mouth shut to save his life.
As he expected, Uncle leaned in and jutted a thumb behind him. "Morgan's got himself a woman up there."
Charles glanced at the house. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. Mighty fine one too."
John pushed on his shoulder. "Get the hell out of here with your lies, old man."
Uncle protested, "I ain't lyin'. It's true! I saw her."
"Sure."
"I'm serious! If you don't believe me, ask..." Uncle trailed off and his eyes went wide, staring behind John.
"Ask who?"
"Gotta go." He scurried off real quick.
John glanced behind him and figured out why. Abigail was striding their direction, but there weren't no dinner plate in her hands and she had the look of a woman on a mission. He sighed. This couldn't be good.
When she reached him, he asked right away, "What's wrong? The boy okay?"
Her mouth was partially open, but his questions stopped her full on. She stared at him in surprise. "Yes. Jack's fine. Tilly's watching over him."
He nodded, relieved. "Good."
After they'd got the boy back, he'd convinced Abigail to move up into his room. So they could...he didn't know. Be a real family or something. John didn't want to say Jack getting taken was a good thing, but it really put it in perspective for him how much the boy meant to him.
Abigail shook her head. "I ain't here about Jack."
"Well, what's going on then?"
"Something strange, that's what."
John glanced at Charles. "Okay..."
"Josiah and Molly went off together."
John scratched at the scars on his face. "Yeah, I saw 'em leave in a wagon. Where they headin'?"
"A job, according to them."
He nodded. "Alright."
She scowled. "You believe that?"
"I don't know." How she always make him feel like a fool? "Why not?"
She rested her hands on her hips. "Have you ever seen Molly lift a finger around here?"
"No, I guess not."
Abigail gestured at the road. "And now, she's headed off with the most slippery one of us to Saint Denis?"
"It's odd." He shook his head. "But I don't see nothing wrong with it."
"You didn't see the look in Trelawny's eyes. He's up to something."
"That's just how he looks," John said impatiently. "Why you always gotta stick your nose in other people's business?"
Abigail bristled. "I ain't takin' chances with anyone anymore."
She was down here for a reason, he knew that much. "What do you want me to do about it?"
She gestured at the house. "Go find out what's going on. Speak to Arthur."
"Me? Why me? You're the one who's all curious about the whole thing."
"He'll talk to you."
John didn't think so. Arthur had hated him for a long time and only now did it feel like John was getting on the right footing with him. Somehow, he didn't think interrogating Arthur needlessly was the way to keep things mended between them.
But Abigail was standing before him, her most stubborn expression on and he had a feeling she wasn't leaving until he agreed with her.
"Alright, alright. I'll talk to Arthur."
For whatever reason, she didn't immediately leave. She crossed her arms and stared him down.
He looked at her. "What, you want me to go now?"
"Ain't no point in prolonging it. I wanna know what's going on."
John lifted his rifle. "I got guard duty right now, woman. I can't just leave."
Abigail cast her gaze until it landed on Charles, who was still sitting on his crate trying to ignore them.
John knew Abigail had a pleasant side because she turned and used her kindest tone on Charles. "Charles, could you cover John for a little while?"
John rolled his eyes. Damn, she couldn't leave well enough alone, could she?
Charles looked up, glancing between him and Abigail. He said reluctantly, "I suppose I can. Nearly done with this anyway."
"Thank you, Charles." Abigail turned her wrath on him again. "At least there's one man around here who's got some goddamn decency."
She turned and strode away. Charles stood and John handed off his rifle with a sigh.
"Charles, my advice to you, is to stay unattached for as long as you can. It ain't worth the goddamn trouble."
Charles loosed one of his rare grins. "Good luck to you, brother."
As John walked up to the house, he passed by the pot full of stew. It smelled meaty and hearty and he detoured his way over. He turned to Pearson sitting on a chair near his wagon.
"Pearson—"
"It ain't ready yet, Marston."
John frowned. "I'm starvin'. Been up since dawn."
Pearson pointed with a butcher knife at his wagon. "If you can't wait, there's salted offal in back."
John cringed. That shit was awful. He spared another look at the stew and his stomach growled painfully. What did it matter if he took some now over later?
As if he read his mind, Pearson warned, "If you eat it before it's fully cooked, it'll make you sick."
John turned away and muttered, "No matter when I eat it, it'll make me sick."
"I heard that, Marston." Pearson stood. "If it ain't done, it ain't done. You complaining about it ain't gonna make it cook any faster."
John shook his head, but didn't answer. Instead, he went for the kettle and poured himself some coffee.
After he was done, he poured one for Arthur too. He had a feeling he'd need an olive branch 'cause he was about to dump Abigail's nonsense on him.
He nodded a greeting to Sadie walking out of the house as he was walking in. When he reached the top of the stairs, he eyed Arthur's door, but choose to follow the sound of snoring.
John found him in the room sharing a wall with his. There was no bed in here so Arthur lay stretched out, knees up on a ratty couch. His arm was thrown over his eyes.
John strode over and shook his shoulder. "Arthur. Arthur, wake up."
Arthur stirred awake and groaned. He uncovered his face and blinked. As he sat up, he started coughing.
John patted his back. "You gonna make it there, partner?"
"I'm fine. Just this damn air."
John passed the coffee over, saying, "Trelawny's gone apparently."
Arthur blew on the steaming cup and then sipped at it. He seemed as unconcerned about Trelawny's disappearance as John had been. "So?"
"You don't find that strange?"
"Trelawny's always comin' and goin' in and out of camp. It's how he functions. He's probably just gone down to Saint Denis to visit."
"To visit who?"
Arthur's expression shuttered. "I don't know. One of his friends low places I s'pose."
What did that mean? Arthur knew something about Trelawny he wasn't saying. "Abigail said Josiah was looking real spooked."
Arthur brushed his concerns aside. "That fool's always been skittish. It was only a matter of time before he moved on again."
"And Molly?"
Arthur frowned. "What about her?"
"Abigail says they went on a job together."
Now Arthur did look at him. "Molly and Josiah?"
"It's strange, right?"
"I mean, I guess. Who knows?" Arthur chuckled. "Maybe they'll bring back the best take yet."
Better get this over with. John cleared his throat. "Arthur...what the hell's going on up here?"
"What you mean?"
"Uncle said something about a girl."
"Shit." Arthur set the cup on the floor and pulled up his suspenders. "Charlotte."
John watched him, confused. "So there is a woman up here?"
"Yeah, but..." He grabbed his boots and tugged them on. He looked around briefly before he found his hat and planted it on his head. "Just come on."
"Who is she?"
"A friend of mine."
"You got friends?"
"Shut up, Marston."
John followed as Arthur strode down the hall and to his room. He rapped on the door lightly before opening it.
In Arthur's room, a dark-haired woman lay in his bed. She was pale with flushed cheeks and she appeared asleep. But when they entered further into the room, her head turned and her eyes were open.
She greeted them with a small smile. "Hello, Arthur."
"Mrs. Balfour," Arthur answered in clear relief. "Glad to see you awake."
"As am I."
Arthur laid a hand on his shoulder. "This here's John. John, Charlotte."
John nodded. "Howdy, ma'am."
"Pleasure to meet you."
Arthur drew closer to her, taking a seat in the empty chair next to the bed. "How're you feelin'?"
"Tired," she said. "and weak."
"Have you eaten?"
She pressed a hand to her abdomen. "My stomach's a tad sensitive at the moment."
"Did Miss Grimshaw figure out what's wrong?"
"She says it's influenza." She crinkled her nose. "However, I'm inclined to disagree."
Arthur's brows pinched together. "Why's that?"
She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Between the three of us, I suspect food poisoning."
"Food poisoning?" John asked in surprise. "Who'd do a thing like that?"
She met his eyes and he saw humor lighting in hers. "I confess I haven't learned the fundamentals to preparing my own meals."
Arthur shook his head. "I gotta teach you some basics."
"Please, don't," she protested jokingly. "I'm already too far in your debt."
He chuckled. "You'll make it up somehow."
"As long as you'll allow me to repay you in some feasible way."
"I'm only glad to see you well."
She continued earnestly, "All thanks to you, good sir."
"I was only in the right place at the right time."
"I think it was a bit more than that."
John stared between the two of them as they bantered on. What the hell was happening? They were looking at each other with smiles and continuing the conversation as if he wasn't there. He cleared his throat.
Arthur glanced at him and straightened in the chair. "Anyhow, we best be gettin' on. Only came in to check on you."
Charlotte said, "I do have a problem maybe you can solve."
Arthur asked, "What's that?"
"How does one escape from wolves?"
John glanced at Arthur who appeared just as confused by the question as he. Arthur answered, "A shot to the face usually does it. There's not much else you can do."
"Hmm...yes. I suppose it would work." She pondered a moment and continued, "What if I didn't want to harm them?"
"Don't know why you wouldn't. They're wild and vicious creatures."
"Can they be tamed?"
"No." Arthur thought on it seriously. "Maybe one by itself, if it were raised by people."
"Hmm..."
Arthur added, "You can't run from wolves. They're natural hunters so they'll give chase. Don't show fear or turn your back on 'em or they'll attack. Without a gun, the best you can do is shout, look big and back out of the area real slow."
She said solemnly, "I'll take your words to heart."
Arthur asked her, "You got some more sniffing around the cabin?"
"Not exactly." A curious look lit her eyes. "Apparently, I've found myself quite in the thick of it."
Arthur frowned. "I ain't sure I know what you mean."
"I've been told..." She paused a moment. "I'm among outlaws."
Arthur tensed. "What the hell did Grimshaw tell you?"
"It wasn't her." Charlotte shook her head. "But is it true?"
John waited for Arthur to deny it, to come up with some reason a ragtag group was hiding away in a rotted plantation house.
Instead, Arthur admitted unhappily, "Yes."
"No need to look so forlorn." She laughed at his expression. "It isn't as bad as all that."
"Well, it sure as hell ain't good."
Her brows raised. "I see."
"We ain't..." Arthur trailed off and glanced at John with a helpless look.
John shrugged, not knowing what he wanted him to say to defend the gang. Were they murderers? Yes. Thieves, bank robbers, conmen? They were all of that and worse sometimes. Maybe once upon a time a case coulda been made for them being more than criminals. Back when they'd helped others besides themselves.
"Am I safe here, Arthur?" Charlotte asked quietly.
She had every right to question it. Especially with that nasty bastard Micah loose on the grounds. Abigail had told him the leering she endured from him and John had made it a point to watch his movement around her and the other girls. Not to mention Uncle already being up her and spying. Least John trusted the old man not to touch. He couldn't say the same for Micah.
"'Course..." Arthur said definitively, but hesitated. "But until you're well enough to ride home, it's probably best if you don't leave the house."
Charlotte studied him a moment before replying, "Alright."
"I'll get one of the girls to bring you a meal." Arthur leaned over and patted her hand. "In the meantime, you only worry about resting. You'll be on your feet before you know it."
"Thank you, Arthur." She settled back and seemed ready to heed his words right away.
Arthur stood and John met him in the hall. He still didn't understand it fully, who this woman was and why Arthur brought her here. But he didn't see any harm in it.
"Shit." Arthur said suddenly and glanced back at the doorway. "I'm supposed to meet a feller near Cornwall's factory tonight."
"Cornwall again?" John asked. "I thought we were done poking at that particular bear."
"It's supposed to be good money. And we need it." Arthur rubbed his chin. "If I leave now, I reckon I can get back by tomorrow mornin'."
"You want me to come with?"
He shook his head. "This is a one man job at best. But could you..." he hesitated. "You wanna watch over Charlotte for me while I'm gone?"
"Like babysitting?"
"No. Just...making sure she don't run into trouble. Don't let her leave the house 'til I get back."
"What do you think she's gonna do?"
"Oh, she's harmless. It's them others I don't trust to keep to themselves."
"I don't know, Arthur..."
Arthur clamped a hand on his shoulder unexpectedly. "I'm trusting you to keep her safe."
John swallowed. Arthur hadn't put trust in him in a long time and for good reason. He'd left the gang once with no intention of coming back. He'd left when Abigail needed him most, at a time when he should have been taking care of her and the boy. He knew that now. He'd been foolish and Arthur had held it against him.
For Arthur to say that he trusted him now, it meant something. He couldn't fail again.
John nodded and Arthur told him, "It shouldn't take more than two days at most."
As Arthur saddled up and left, John thought about the real question he should have asked. What the hell did he do if Dutch came back while Arthur was gone?
