Chapter Five: Her Love Never Died

...and when she turned, there he stood, the same highwayman who'd robbed her coach only three nights ago. This time he wore no mask, but she recognized him by those luscious blue eyes. His cocky grin had her anger rising tenfold. He dare mock her, the Lady of Leicester, in her OWN home?

She hated him. For killing her husband, for stealing her mother's necklace and for having the audacity to be that handsome and yet so a̶w̶f̶u̶l̶ despicable a person. She wouldn't stand for it, by God.

Without warning, she pulled from her skirt the flintlock dueling pistol she'd found in her husband's dresser.

She pointed it at the highwayman and threatened, "Today, Mr. Vincent, you die and I shall—"

"Mary-Beth!"

Mary-Beth blinked, her mind slowly cutting loose from the drama she'd been immersed in. She looked up. "Yes, Karen?"

Karen shook her head and Mary-Beth realized it likely wasn't the first time her name had been called. "What the hell are you writing that's got you so out if it?"

Mary-Beth wouldn't say she'd been out of it. In fact, she'd been incredibly focused, to the point where she'd been making excellent progress until Karen's interruption.

But she shook off her irritation and answered excitedly, "It's a romance novel I've been working on. A lady whose husband is killed by an outlaw, but she ends up falling for the outlaw, despite the odds against him."

Tilly asked skeptically, "Even though he killed her husband?"

Mary-Beth had a look around. She'd been sitting on the ground near the campfire, writing by herself, but now some of the women had gathered nearby. Tilly and Charlotte sat on the log together across from the fire, working on some kind of sewing project. In a chair next to her was Karen, smoking. Over at the table cleaning her rifle, was Sadie.

Mary-Beth finally answered, "Well, we'll find out later it wasn't actually his fault at all, but part of a plot to murder the lady herself."

"How fascinating," Charlotte commented. "So, you're a writer?"

"One day, I hope to be." She sat up, setting her pen and notebook aside. "What are you all working on?"

Karen said dryly, "The sewing Grimshaw gave you to do today."

Mary-Beth was immediately contrite. Sometimes, she forgot about her chores. Usually, one of the other girls reminded her in time to complete it by the end of the day. "I'm sorry, Karen."

"It's fine," Tilly said kindly, but then teased, "Miss Charlotte's needlework is much finer than yours anyway."

Mary-Beth made a face at Tilly, not that she was truly offended. If someone had picked up her slack and did it better, she wasn't going to complain about it. It had left her with more time for writing, after all.

"I'm only pleased something I've done has worked out," Charlotte said. "I hope Miss Grimshaw recovers from my mistakes today."

Karen rolled her eyes. "If you ask me, that nag needed reminding how good she has it, having all of us around."

"She's doing the best she can," Tilly protested.

"Says the favorite."

Mary-Beth silently agreed. Miss Grimshaw had gotten furious when Tilly went missing. She'd never seen the older woman act so quickly in order to recover her. Mary-Beth was grateful for it, of course. Tilly was her best friend around here. However, when Mary-Beth had told Miss Grimshaw about not seeing Kieran for a few days, she hadn't lifted a finger or seemed concerned at all.

"Pardon my curiosity," cut in Charlotte. "But do you ladies also engage in...criminal activities?"

"Sometimes," said Mary-Beth.

"If we're lucky," added Karen. "We'd be more involved if the men came to their senses and saw the jobs are pulled off better when a woman's in on the scheme."

Tilly shook her head. "'Cause every job you've done has gone off without a hitch, has it?"

"I'd say so." Karen stood. "I'm grabbing a beer. Any of you gals want something?"

All around the other women shook their heads until Mary-Beth said, "We're fine, Karen."

Karen shrugged. "Suit yourselves."

"Jack's down for the night finally," said Abigail as she joined the group. She glanced at Charlotte and then decided to sit on the crate Karen had just vacated.

Tilly asked, "What took him so long to fall asleep?"

Abigail fiddled with her skirt. "You know him. He's worried over his foolish father."

Mary-Beth watched Abigail scowl, but the expression didn't hold as the woman's gaze drifted into the night, in the direction of the woods.

For whatever reason, Abigail liked to act like she didn't care for John when anyone with eyes could see it was the opposite.

Lady Grade refused to allow that horrid man any concession of her soft heart. If he knew her true feelings, he'd take advantage of her...

"What are y'all talking about?" Abigail asked.

Karen returned, standing next to Tilly. "How we occupy our time while the men go out and have all the fun."

Mary-Beth shuddered. "I wouldn't call it fun."

Mary-Beth was better suited to pick-pocketing and other petty crimes. Put a gun in her hand and all she felt was panic rise. She'd never been good at shooting, but she knew how, if she had to.

Charlotte asked curiously, "Where did Arthur and the other men go anyway?"

Tilly shared a hesitant look with Abigail. Arthur had warned all of them to be careful about specifics in front of Charlotte.

It was Sadie who spoke up without reservation. "They went after Mr. Bronte."

"Who told you that?" scowled Abigail.

"No one." Sadie aimed her gun at the swamps with one eye open. "I overheard them talkin' about it."

"Eavesdropping on purpose, more like," scolded Abigail.

Sadie snorted. "Like you don't do it neither."

Charlotte asked, "Who is Mr. Bronte?"

A fierce, motherly look sprang into Abigail's eyes. "A piece of shit who took my son."

Karen corrected, "Them Braithwaites took your son. Bronte just kept hold of him."

"That ain't why they gone after him," put in Sadie. "Dutch wants revenge over that trolley job gone wrong."

"What do they plan on doing?"

Tilly said apologetically, "You're really better off not knowing, ma'am."

Charlotte frowned. "I wish everyone would quit saying that to me."

Some of the lady's frustration seeped out. All she wanted to know was if the man she cared about was safe...

"Truth is," Abigail was saying, "We don't know for certain what they're up to out there most of the time. Rest of us don't find out much 'til everything's done."

"I hope they teach that Bronte a hard enough lesson so we can get this bank job done easy."

"Karen!" Tilly and Abigail exclaimed at the same time.

"What?"

Abigail gave a pointed look in Charlotte's direction.

Karen plopped down next to Charlotte's other side, bottle in hand. "I'm sure she's picked up on the gist of what goes on around here by now."

"That ain't the point."

"Well, I didn't say which bank," she said defensively.

They continued for a bit, but their arguing dropped off when Strauss made his way over. "Good evening, ladies."

"Herr Strauss," the women greeted none too excitedly. He was a dour man, though Mary-Beth found his accent somewhat intriguing.

"Have any of you lovely ladies seen Mr. Morgan?"

"For what?" Karen asked bluntly.

"I wanted to follow up with him regarding a debtor he was meant to collect on. Mr. Morgan's work always guarantees results, but he hasn't checked in."

"Can't you find someone else to do your dirty work, Mr. Strauss?"

"Are you volunteering yourself, Mrs. Adler?"

"I ain't taking money from the poor. It's a shameful occupation."

Strauss shrugged. "These people willingly take out the loan. They knew from day one to expect to pay it back."

Sadie glared at him. "Deals like the ones you're always makin' will lead you one place, Mr. Strauss."

"Hell?" he asked, with a mocking brow.

"Dead. One of these days, you're gonna cross the wrong desperate bastard and end up shot."

He steepled his fingers together and told her, "That's why I am not the one collecting. My expertise is on the accounts, not the other aspect."

Abigail said, "You mean, the part where you're threatening those less fortunate?"

"Your words are harsh, Miss Roberts, when you are one of the few who reaps its value the most. We may take from the poor, but it is your son who is benefiting. In actuality, I feed all of you with the work I do." Strauss added, "When next you see Mr. Morgan, send him my way, won't you?"

"Horrible man," Sadie muttered as Strauss walked away. "Don't understand why y'all put up with his shifty shit."

Tilly told her, "He's not wrong. What he brings in does keep us afloat between jobs."

Sadie scoffed. "But is it worth it?"

Mary-Beth sometimes wondered the same thing. Arthur never came back happy after collecting debts. He went straight to the collections box and then rode off without speaking to anyone. It was clear he hated doing it, but he kept on because it was expected of him.

The sound of riders coming down the lane had the women turning their attention to the entrance. Five men left this evening, but only two were riding in now. Even in the dark, it was easy to identify both of them. The Count's white coat shone in the moonlight and Bill's Brown Jack was the largest of the animals.

Bill headed straight for the stew pot and then to his tent, ignoring them. He did cast a suspicious glance before he was out of sight, as if he thought they'd been going on about him.

"Evening, ladies," Dutch greeted warmly.

Abigail demanded, "Where's everyone else, Dutch?"

Dutch's face twitched, but he answered calmly enough, "They're following. Everything and everyone is fine, Miss Roberts."

Dutch bid them goodnight and headed to the house. After another few minutes, his words were proven correct as John and Lenny made their way into camp.

Mary-Beth called over, "Hey, Lenny! You wanna join us by the fire?"

Lenny didn't meet her eyes as he shook his head. "I'm going to turn in, Miss Gaskill. I've gotta...read something."

Mary-Beth frowned, but didn't push him as he quietly settled down in his tent. He used to join them more often around the campfire. Ever since Jenny had been killed, Lenny kept his distance with the girls. Maybe he never truly had any interest in the rest of them.

As for John, he was coming up more slowly, his eyes shadowed and his expression hard as he stared at the house. His eyes were dark and his countenance rattled, like he'd seen worse than the devil, but a monster most fearsome.

Charlotte stood as he was passing by. "Where's Arthur?"

John glanced at her briefly. "He went for a ride."

Abigail approached him, asking, "Everything alright, John?"

He didn't answer, but moodily moved past her and towards the house.

Abigail sighed. "I'd better go see what that's all about and get him calm."

Karen leaned in and whispered loudly, "I know how I'd calm a man like him down."

Tilly smacked her shoulder playfully. "Karen, you are so bad."

"Come on, Tilly," Karen pulled her friend up. "Let's go to the back of the house and see if we can hear their argument."

"You're awful," Tilly replied, but she let herself be dragged in that direction.

"You'll be lucky if you see Arthur tonight." Mary-Beth rose and joined Charlotte. "He likes taking extended rides after jobs."

"Does he?"

"I think Arthur would live in the woods if he didn't have us," Mary-Beth joked. "He likes roughing it even more than this for some reason."

Charlotte seemed lost in thought, her eyes moving between the woods and the house.

Mary-Beth said, "I apologize if we come across as nothing more than bullies and thieves."

Charlotte tilted her head. "What's your story, Miss Gaskill?"

"Oh, about the same as everyone else around here," she said airily. "My momma got sick and I got orphaned. I had to survive on my own until I landed in with these fellas. We're not all bad here, I promise."

Charlotte smiled at her. "I've reached that conclusion myself, but thank you for the reassurance."

"Only one I'd really watch out for is Micah."

"Which one's he?"

Mary-Beth bothered to look, but it was too dark now to make out if he was around. "I don't know where he is, but he ain't hard to miss. Nasty look to his eye and everything he says is just terrible."

"Mary-Beth..." Charlotte glanced around. "How determined are you all about robbing a bank?"

She saw the worry in the other woman's eyes and admitted. "Mighty determined, I'm afraid. We're desperate for money and that's no lie."

"Do you think Dutch would be open to ideas?"

Mary-Beth blinked in surprise. "You have some tips on how to rob a bank?"

"Something like that."

"If what you got's easier than what they got planned, I'll bet they'll be real open-minded."

"Hmm..."

"I'd let them know right off. I expect they'll be pulling this job tomorrow or the next. We've got Pinkertons on our tails too, you know."

"Pinkertons?" Surprise rose Charlotte's brow. "That's terribly unfortunate."

"I agree. Mr. Milton himself is a terribly unfortunate man." Soulless, hated and feared...

Charlotte's posture straightened and Mary-Beth turned to see what had garnered her attention. As she expected, Arthur was riding in. He hitched his horse, spending time to pet his steed and give him a quick brush.

You could truly tell the soul of a person by the way they treated animals. Mary-Beth's heart grew heavy at the idle thought. Kieran had been gentle and kind and he'd cared for their horses better than anyone. She missed him deeply and she'd only just started to really get to know him. Kieran had the purest soul out of anyone she'd ever met.

"Excuse me, Miss Gaskill," Charlotte said and as she left, Mary-Beth briskly wiped a stray tear away. She watched from afar as Charlotte walked towards Arthur.

The lady strode away with confidence, a plan in mind for how to help her newfound friends and her one true love...

"Mary-Beth!" called Karen from the side of the house. Tilly waved for her to join them.

"Coming!"

...and to save them all from a fate most terrible.