Tilly sat on the floor beside Jack, playing with a lost top he'd found under the bed. They'd only been at it for about fifteen minutes when Abigail swept in, looking agitated.
Tilly knew that meant she'd just got done talking to John. No one but that man got her so riled up that quickly. As if she wanted to offset her anger, Abigail began straightening up the room, making the bed, picking up books from the floor and using a rag to furiously wipe at the dirtied window.
When she tired of that, she turned to Tilly and asked, "You talk to Molly today?"
Tilly frowned. "No. Why?"
"Just between you and me, I think Molly's gone."
"Gone, how?" Tilly's brows rose in surprise. "You mean she's left us for good?"
Abigail nodded. "It's the only thing that makes sense in my mind. She was packin' up and it weren't only for a job. I gotta feeling she ain't coming back."
Maybe it was wrong of her to feel this way, but Tilly was glad Molly left. That woman had been trouble since joining up with them and it had only escalated in the last few months. Tilly couldn't believe the nerve of her shouting at Dutch day in and day out. It was so disrespectful after everything he'd done for her.
Not to mention, she'd completely lost it since Kieran's death. They were all upset about him and Sean, but Molly made it about herself, sitting in a corner or ranting out at the swamp as if it could hear her problems and solve them too.
No, Molly gone would be a good thing for all of them. Tilly couldn't see Dutch's pride liking it too much, but maybe his recent disinterest with her would override his anger.
The door opened and John walked in. Jack stood up and raced to his dad.
"Pa!"
John's anxious expression softened as he returned a hug and ruffled the boy's hair. "Hey, Jack."
Abigail went up to him. "So? What'd you find out?"
"You were right." John shook his head a little. "There is a woman Arthur brought."
"I knew it."
"But she ain't nothing," John continued as Jack released him and rejoined Tilly on the floor. "That is, she ain't gonna cause problems. She was sick and Arthur got worried and brought her here."
"Well, who is she?"
"Arthur says she's a friend."
"A friend?" Abigail frowned. "Since when does Arthur got friends outside the gang?"
John threw up his hands. "That's what I said."
"This one's mighty pretty for a friend," Tilly commented mildly.
Abigail swung to face her. "You knew about this?"
Hearing the fierceness of her tone, Tilly regretted saying anything. "Yeah..."
"Why didn't you say nothing?"
Tilly shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't know you didn't know."
John scowled. "You didn't even need me."
Abigail faced him now. "Yes, I did."
"You coulda just asked Tilly the whole time."
"That ain't true."
"How the hell is it not?"
Abigail cast Tilly a brief glance, but didn't meet her eye. "I don't know."
Tilly knew. Abigail had gotten real closed off since getting Jack back. She wasn't unfriendly, but she wasn't as open with talking with the other women as she used to be. She seemed to consider her, Jack and John as one unit and everyone else as another.
Tilly didn't fault her for it. She thought Abigail would come back around again eventually. She hadn't been herself since they'd lost Jack. Tilly couldn't imagine what state Abigail would be in right now if she hadn't gotten her son back.
Abigail dropped a hand on her shoulder and asked politely, "Tilly, could you give us some privacy?"
Tilly stood. "Of course."
Before she left, John stopped her. "You wanna bring up some stew for Miss Charlotte? I know Arthur would appreciate it."
"No problem, John."
"And thanks for watching Jack."
"Anytime, Abigail."
Tilly went downstairs, not missing the sight of Karen passed out in one of the rooms on the first floor. She shook her head. That girl was gonna kill herself one of these days.
When Tilly reached the pot, she pointed and asked Pearson, "This ready?"
He nodded. "Sure is, Miss Tilly. But it's real hot so you be careful."
"I will. Thanks, Mr. Pearson." Tilly started ladling a bowl.
From the fire, Micah called, "Bring a bowl over here and join me, girl."
Annoyed, she didn't bother looking at him. "I ain't your maid, Mr. Bell. You can get one yourself."
He was fast and she hadn't even heard him stand up. When she straightened, Micah clamped a hand on her wrist. All her thoughts fled and high fear rose when she saw his nasty smirk. In her mind, his hand had changed to Malcolm's and she was back in that dirty cabin again with the Foremans.
Tilly swallowed and the image cleared. She was afraid, but men like Malcolm, like Micah, wanted to see that fear. She said steadily, "Let me go, Mr. Bell."
Despite her best efforts of faking bravery, his grin widened. "I only want a little company by the fire, honey."
Tilly didn't know what to do. She started trembling and she knew he felt it by his hold on her. What Micah didn't know was if he didn't let go of her, he was going to get a face full of steaming liquid.
And then he was going to be introduced to the knife from her boot.
"Leave the girl be, Micah."
It was Javier. Micah released her immediately and Tilly's tensed shoulders dropped in relief. All it took was for a stronger man to challenge him and he backed down.
Micah raised his hands as if he wanted peace, but a sneer remained. "I was only looking for some conversation, Mr. Escuella."
He pronounced it oddly, like he wanted to provoke a fight. But Javier didn't rise to the bait. He turned his back on Micah, whose glare intensified for a moment before he walked away.
Javier asked her gently, "You okay, Tilly?"
She nodded, but he moved closer to her anyway. His touch was gentle as he examined the wrist Micah had grabbed. Tilly tensed, but this time it wasn't from fear.
"It might bruise, but I reckon you'll be fine." He released her and warned, "You need to be careful with the hombres around here."
She regained her senses enough to tease, "Present company excluded, I hope?"
Javier's mouth lifted at that. "Definitely not, seƱorita."
He had a nice smile. If Mary-Beth was going to base the male lover of her romance book on anyone, it should be Javier. Mary-Beth said she picked Arthur because he had a hidden soft side to all that muscle. But he was as rough-looking as they come.
Tilly thought Javier had a more suave, dashing quality to him. Long, dark hair framing his face, the rest tied back and his facial hair trimmed in a neat style. Plus, he sang like an angel and played the guitar with incredible talent.
Tilly shook her head at herself. She was getting as silly as Mary-Beth. She didn't usually view the men at camp with any kind of romantic interest, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder. The close quarters they lived in made it an unavoidable occupation.
However, she didn't want to remain with the gang for the rest of her life. She loved these people. She cast a discreet glance Micah's way. Well, most of them. But living rough wasn't in her future plans. She didn't know when, but someday, she would seek love and fortune, marry a man for both and take it easy in a big house for the rest of her days.
No matter what Karen said, Tilly thought it an attainable goal. She believed all the girls could do the same if they set their minds to it. Even Grimshaw, as old as she was, was capable of claiming a better life if she was so inclined.
Javier waited for her to leave with her bowl before moving away from the pot. It pleased her that he was watching over her. A strong protector to a young maiden.
She scowled inwardly. Stop with your nonsense, girl.
As she was taking the stew inside, Miss Grimshaw called from behind her, "Tilly!"
Tilly paused in the main room of the house and waited for the older woman to catch up.
Miss Grimshaw crossed the threshold and asked, "Tilly, have you seen Miss Gaskill?"
Tilly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Miss Grimshaw, I ain't seen her. I've been watching little Jack all afternoon." She lifted the bowl. "And now I'm taking a meal up to our guest."
"Oh. Well." She complained, "The laundry ain't going to wash itself."
"If I see her, Miss Grimshaw, I'll let her know you're looking for her."
"Thank you, Tilly. And I expect you back down here when you're done with Miss Charlotte."
She said obediently, "Of course, Miss Grimshaw."
Miss Grimshaw stuck her head in the adjacent room in a brief search before walking out the front door.
Tilly waited for the door to close before she said loudly, "Mary-Beth, Grimshaw's looking for you."
Mary-Beth came out from behind the corner near Hosea's room, a guilty expression on her face. "Thanks for not ratting me out, Tilly."
"You can't hide from her forever."
Mary-Beth made a face. "I know that, but you've seen her today. On a rampage, she is. And my hands are wrinkled to death by all the washing I've already done this morning."
"I understand." Tilly nodded. "Come up and visit Miss Charlotte with me."
Mary-Beth's mood brightened considerably. "Is she awake now?"
Tilly smiled at her friend. "Let's find out."
Mary-Beth knocked on Arthur's bedroom door for her, calling lightly. "Hello? Miss Charlotte?"
"Come in."
Charlotte certainly looked much better than last night. She was sitting up, a healthy color in her cheeks and her eyes were full of awareness and curiosity as she watched them. Mary-Beth introduced them while Tilly held out the bowl for her.
"Don't expect much," Mary-Beth commented about the food. "Pearson does his best, but it's certainly no fine dining."
"I thank you for the meal, but..." Charlotte raised her brow at the two of them. "Is this a task that required two people or is this some facade to get your eye on me?"
"She's clever," Tilly said to Mary-Beth.
Mary-Beth clasped her hands together. "And pretty."
Charlotte looked like she was resisting her amusement. "You girls are absurd."
Tilly hung back, but Mary-Beth had no hesitancy as she took the seat at her bedside. "I'm hiding from Grimshaw."
Charlotte blew on the steaming bowl. "For what reason?"
Mary-Beth made a face. "Laundry."
Charlotte chuckled. "Ah, a dreaded chore I've certainly come to despise as well."
Mary-Beth leaned forward. "Don't you live in some fancy house with servants?"
"Um, no." Charlotte looked away. "At least, not anymore."
Mary-Beth watched her with wide, curious eyes. "Do you live by yourself?"
Clear pain flickered across her expression. "Yes, I do."
"And Arthur found you?"
Her amusement was back as she spooned some stew. "I suppose he did."
Mary-Beth sighed and leaned back. "Isn't it romantic?"
Charlotte frowned. "Isn't what romantic?"
"What, she says," Mary-Beth said dreamily. "Big, strong Arthur rescuing you and bringing you all the way down here to be looked after."
Charlotte laughed a little, glancing at Tilly. "I think you may be reading more into it than what actually happened."
Charlotte seemed to think Tilly would agree with her, but she found it curious too. "I don't know. Mary-Beth's got all kinds of silly notions, but she's got a point. Arthur's never brought no woman to camp."
Not even Mrs. Linton, though Tilly wouldn't be surprised he'd try if the woman was willing.
"We're friends," Charlotte said. "Surely he's brought friends around?"
Mary-Beth shook her head. "I never thought of Arthur as liking anyone else besides us. You must be real special to him."
"He doesn't have that kind of interest in me," Charlotte protested. "I'm a widow, after all."
Another word for unattached, as Tilly saw it. Knowing it'd garner a reaction, she leaned over to Mary-Beth. "She's too blind to see it, ain't she?"
Mary-Beth popped up from the chair suddenly. "I have to write this down!" She rushed from the room. Tilly hoped she remembered she was supposed to be avoiding Miss Grimshaw.
"I'm not entirely sure what to make of that," Charlotte murmured.
Tilly took the chair Mary-Beth vacated. "Oh, don't mind her. She fancies herself a writer. You're the perfect distraction after...well..." She didn't want to scare Charlotte by talking about what happened to Kieran. "Let's just say she's had it rough recently."
"It seems to be a common theme around here."
Tilly tilted her head. "What do you mean by that, ma'am?"
"I don't mean anything by it, I suppose. Only an observation."
Tilly narrowed her eyes on her, suspicious. "Who else has been in here?"
"Mmm. Besides you two, Miss Grimshaw, Arthur and John, there was a Miss O'Shea."
"Lord mercy, you had to listen to her gripe on?"
Charlotte passed her a look of concern. "The poor dear is having some sort of crisis."
"Mm hmm. That's an understatement. She's lost it, alright."
Charlotte frowned. "She's unhappy and scared."
And gone. Was that because of Charlotte's interference? Tilly asked bluntly, "Do you plan staying on here?"
Charlotte set the finished stew on the side table before sending her a look of surprise. "Goodness gracious, no. Have I given that impression? I feel a terrible burden on all of you already. No, Miss Jackson, I'd truly like to return home as soon as possible."
Tilly relaxed. She suspected as much since Charlotte didn't share the same hungry desperation as the rest of them when they'd joined. But it made her feel better to hear it. John was right. From what she'd gathered of Charlotte, she wasn't a threat to the gang. Just a girl in the wrong place.
"Arthur..." Charlotte seemed to want to say something, but hesitated a moment. "Arthur says I shouldn't leave the house."
Remembering Micah's grab for her, Tilly fully agreed with that judgment. "He's got it right, miss."
Charlotte frowned, perhaps not understanding the extent of the danger she could be in.
Tilly said kindly, "You just let me know if you need anything, Miss Charlotte, and I'll get it for you."
"Perhaps a book, if it's not too much to ask?" She scrunched up her nose. "I feel a bit weak, but I'm no longer excessively tired and I'd like something to do."
Tilly stood, telling her, "I think I can manage a book for you."
As Tilly left the room, she passed Lenny on the stairs. She greeted, "Hi, Lenny. What are you up to?"
"Got some money for the collection box." He grinned at her. "Hit a lone rider on the road. I made over fifty dollars."
Tilly smiled. "Nicely done, Mr. Summers."
"Better than that trolley take, that's for sure." He bounded up the steps. "See you later, miss."
Tilly spared a moment to check on Karen downstairs. She was unconscious, but still breathing so that was a good thing. Tilly took the bottle out of Karen's hand and left her to sleep. As she exited out the back door of the house, Reverend Swanson stumbled his way over to her.
"Miss Jackson, stay away from the water. There's ghosts in those swamps." His eyes were bloodshot and his gray-streaked hair wild. "Ghosts!"
Tilly sighed. He'd said this to her before. Old fool was seeing things again. "It's in your head, Reverend."
Before he could convince her otherwise, Pearson strode up to them in anger. "The last time was your last goddamn warning, Reverend!"
Swanson blinked and turned his head. "What?"
Pearson gestured at the second story of the house. "Lenny just told me the collection box is damn near empty."
To Tilly, Swanson seemed genuinely boggled. "I didn't do anything."
Pearson crossed his arms. "There's no one else here that steals from his own except you."
"I didn't," Swanson protested. "I haven't even been upstairs of the house yet. You gotta to believe me, Mr. Pearson."
Pearson glared, unmoved, and demanded, "Turn out your pockets."
If there was no other way to know he spoke the truth, Swanson proved it by listening willingly. He clumsily pulled everything he had, which amounted to dirt, lint and a small bottle of some mysterious substance, but he didn't have a cent on him.
Pearson grumbled, "Well, if it ain't you, someone took it."
And suddenly Tilly knew exactly who that someone was. Molly O'Shea. Molly didn't do anything to earn her own money, so if she really left like Abigail believed, she'd need something to start. And somehow, Tilly didn't think she'd be selling her own jewelry or trinkets anytime soon.
But she didn't know it for a certainty. And there'd be no point in getting anyone worked up for no reason. So, to keep the peace, she suggested, "Dutch likely hid the rest somewhere else. We can ask him when he gets back."
Pearson pointed at Swanson. "You better be telling the truth, Reverend, or you'll have Dutch to answer to."
As much as Tilly had no love for Molly, if the others knew it was her, they'd hunt her down. Leaving was one thing, but stealing? It was a declaration of war. The last thing Tilly wanted to see was the gang murdering their own. Everything would descend into chaos.
It'd happened once before, with a feller who'd betrayed them. A lot of trust had dissipated within the gang. It'd taken months for everyone to gain the faith back. And that was when they'd been strong and united. Tilly couldn't imagine what would happen if a betrayal was discovered when everyone was already on edge.
