Abigail strode after John, picking up her pace when she realized his destination and remembered her difficulty getting Jack to sleep. It'd taken over an hour, where she'd done everything in her ability to get him to close his eyes, from rocking him like a toddler to rubbing his back in soothing circles and humming.
If John woke that boy, Abigail was throwing the man to the gators.
But when she caught up to him, she found him standing stock still in the doorway, watching their son sleep, one hand on the doorknob, as if the sight of Jack had stopped him from crossing the threshold. What could possibly be on his mind?
She approached him, tugging on his coat and pulling him to the room next door, where a forgotten sofa and the contributions box was located. Once he was in the room, she lit a lantern and John's agitation erupted into life once more and in the form of disquieted pacing.
She watched his twitching with concern. "John, what's got into you?"
"Dutch killed Bronte."
She sat on the sofa and remarked, "Good."
He took his hat off in agitation, throwing it on the table. Then he swiped a hand through his dark hair, the flickering light catching his scars. "You didn't see him, Abigail. It was...I don't know."
"Weren't that the plan? Get rid of Bronte to clear the way for the bank job?"
"He fed the man to the goddamn alligators!" he said angrily, his voice rising. "Is that any way to get rid of your enemies? It's...it's indecent."
Abigail didn't care two shits for this Bronte. As far as she was concerned, he got what he damn well deserved. That man had held her boy, her precious son, for no damn reason.
"It ain't only that he's dead," John continued. "We kill lots of folks, sure, but I ain't never seen Dutch..." His face pinched in disgust. "...take pleasure in it like he did."
Abigail was growing unsettled by the whole ordeal and only because John couldn't seem to shake his distress over it. If he thought something was wrong, she trusted him on it. John didn't scare easy and the proof was in how he couldn't seem to resist questioning Dutch when he saw fit.
Since Abigail knew better than anyone John didn't like being told what to do, she'd thought his testing of Dutch's directions had been part of his rebellious nature. Now she wondered if it was more directed at Dutch himself.
John unexpectedly took a seat next to her, leaning forward with his hands between his legs. His clear confusion and uncertainty unnerved her. He wasn't supposed to get scared and she wasn't sure what to say to reassure him. But she wasn't without any means of providing him comfort.
Abigail took one of his roughened hands in hers, but he didn't react to her touch. "John, look at me."
He turned his head, finally meeting her eyes. Somehow, even with all the shit they'd been through, he still managed to carry some vulnerability. She never wanted him to lose it, to turn into a cold monster who cared for no one and nothing except the man on the end of his gun.
Abigail wanted him to know, that through it all, he'd always have someone to come back to if he kept his same morals. She leaned in and kissed him, in a way to soothe him, in a gentle way she hadn't done with him in a real long time.
By his momentary lack of response, Abigail could tell she'd surprised him, but he recovered quickly to return the kiss, growing greedy as he wrapped an arm around her torso and pulled her against him. Usually, she snapped at him when he manhandled her, but this time she allowed it. Truthfully, it felt good to have him holding her again.
And soon enough, they were pulling off each other's clothes. Abigail's own eagerness growing with every one of his groans against her mouth.
Abigail had been with many men, but with John, it'd always been different. They didn't talk. They moved together with words unspoken, in a fever of one another's touch. His rampant desire for her broke the last of her resistance and had her helpless against his need. She once hated her weakness for him, but now only hungered for the gratifying release.
Afterwards, breathing hard, John rested his head on her chest and she ran her fingers through his lengthy hair, as if she were pacifying a wild animal.
"What do we do, John?" she asked him in the dark.
He sighed, air blowing across her naked skin. "I don't know."
"Should we..." Abigail hesitated. She'd suggested it before, but he'd gotten angry with her. "Should we leave?" she added quickly, "For Jack's safety?"
He didn't answer her, but neither did he leap off her with indignation. What he'd seen tonight must have truly disturbed him.
Finally, John said to her, "We ain't got nowhere to go. No money and no prospects."
He wasn't wrong. He was an outlaw and knew no other life. While she used to make decent money selling her body, but she couldn't do that anymore, not even out of desperation. The few other skills she had amounted to sewing, washing and cooking. Housewife work, but not paying work. Least, not enough to support a family.
"I say," John said quietly, "we stay in and do this bank job. I don't see no other way out of it. After that, I don't know."
She didn't know either and she allowed herself a brief moment of visible weakness in front of him, hugging John close to comfort him as much as herself.
As there wasn't enough room for the two of them to sleep here, eventually they got up and dressed again. John took his time with a cigarette while Abigail went to the door when she finished.
She left the room, only to stop on the threshold at the sound of Arthur and Charlotte coming up the stairs, speaking in low tones. She moved back into the room, trying to hear their conversation as they paused in front of Arthur's bedroom, Charlotte's back to the door.
"Arthur, you aren't safe here," Charlotte was saying. "You told me yourself the law is after you, but Mary-Beth also said something about the Pinkertons too?"
"And what you're suggestin' ain't a good idea."
"In what way is it not your best option?" she challenged.
Arthur's back was to Abigail, but he fell silent except for a deep sigh.
Charlotte asked bluntly, "How much money are you expecting from this bank robbery?"
He cursed under his breath, shifting his feet in clear agitation. "Who in the hell told you about this anyway?"
"Sadie." She frowned. "Maybe. Or was it Karen? There are so many names to remember."
Not answering her question, Arthur said, "I shoulda taken you home this afternoon, Dutch or no Dutch."
"You don't have time. All of you are in grave danger if the Pinkerton Agency is involved," she told him worriedly. "They're well known in Chicago. I've read my fair share of news stories where they've voluntarily served as judge, jury and executioner."
"You're makin' my point for me, Charlotte. There's too much risk associating with us as it is."
"Aren't you seeking a life where you're not hiding from the law anymore?" Charlotte rested a hand on his arm. "Arthur, don't you want to reunite with your Mary?"
She gazed up at him and Abigail suddenly felt like she was eavesdropping on a more intimate moment than a simple disagreement. It had the curiosity in her nature stirring. Abigail had taken Charlotte for some woman in want of Arthur's attention. Had Abigail completely misinterpreted Charlotte's intentions? Was she merely a friend on the outside trying to help another?
"Whatcha doin'?"
John had come up behind her and the fool hadn't lowered the volume of his voice at all.
She hushed him, but it was too late.
"Marston?" Arthur turned. "Abigail? What in the hell are you two doin' over there?"
"We was—"
"Talkin'," Abigail broke in. She didn't know what he'd actually been about to say, but she wouldn't put it past him to speak the truth.
"Talkin'?" Arthur rubbed his chin and studied them. "You sure about that?"
"It weren't the only thing—"
She elbowed John and he swore. "What the hell, woman?"
Abigail grabbed his hand and yanked him down the hallway to their bedroom, snapping at Arthur on her way, "Shut up, will you?"
Arthur lifted his hands, chuckling a little. "I ain't sayin' a thing. Only hope the room's fit for me sleeping in after you two had—"
She cut him a glare.
"—a conversation."
Abigail flushed red as she opened the door to their room, pulled John violently in and shut the door. She was ready to berate John for getting her caught eavesdropping, when a little voice called out, "Momma?"
All her anger melted away at her son's voice. She made her way over to the bed, laid beside him, and hugged his back to her body. "Right here, baby."
John hadn't moved from standing by the door, watching them and looking uncomfortable. She rolled her eyes at his hesitation, though it was wasted on him in the dark.
"Get over here, you dummy," she ordered him, but in soft manner.
Abigail rested her head as John slipped behind her. That's how she fell asleep, cuddled in bed with John's arms wrapped around her and Jack held close to her chest.
When Abigail woke the next morning, something wasn't right. Her mind took a precious moment to understand what and when she did, her stomach dropped. John still had a hold of her, but Jack was no longer in her arms.
Then she was in motion. She wretched from John's arms, throwing back the covers and rolling out of bed.
Her movement startled John awake and he watched her blearily, asking with a drowsy mumble, "What the hell...?"
"Jack's not here," she practically screeched, searching the floor for the skirt she'd discarded during the humid night. She clumsily pulled it up over her underthings, snatching for her blouse next.
To his credit, whether he was in fear for the boy's safety or her wrath, John jumped out of bed, hastily threw on boots, pants and a shirt, not bothering to button it up as he slammed out the bedroom door.
Modesty prevailing, Abigail was slower but not by much, as she held her blouse closed, panic-stricken. She reached the hallway as Arthur was opening his door.
"What in hell is goin' on out here?" He caught sight of Abigail, noticed her state of undress and averted his eyes hastily. "Abigail."
She had no time to stop as she flew past him, saying, "Jack's not in our room."
"I'm sure he's—"
She didn't wait for his useless reassurances as she moved past him.
"Jack!" she heard John exclaim from downstairs. "There you are."
Abigail scurried down, lifting her skirt with one hand and holding her blouse together with the other. She wouldn't believe Jack was fine until she saw him with her own eyes.
She reached the entrance to the house and there he sat, perfectly intact, on the piano bench next to Charlotte.
He turned at her entrance and grinned happily."Mornin', Momma."
She raced to his side, throwing her arms around him. "What are you doing, you silly boy?"
"Miss Charlotte was teaching me scales," he told her matter-of-fact, as if he hadn't given her the second worst scare of her life.
When she didn't release him, the boy asked, "What's wrong, Momma?"
John answered for her, "Gave me and your mother a fright."
Abigail hadn't connected with Charlotte, despite Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen being friendly. The last thing she'd been looking forward to was another Molly-won't-lift-a-finger-O'Shea. Although Charlotte had proved her wrong in that aspect, it was this moment as she met Charlotte's gaze over Jack's head, she was grateful.
She whispered, "Thank you."
Charlotte nodded and Jack wriggled out of his hug impatiently. "Momma, look."
He placed his hand on the piano keys and concentrated, pressing key after key, in an upward lift of notes. Each note sounded dull and sad to the ear, complementing its wrecked nature with the room it resided in.
When he finished, Charlotte praised. "That was very good, Jack."
He beamed and turned to Abigail. "Did you hear, Momma?"
"Yes, I did." She smiled at him and rose. Luckily, no one else was in the room to see her outfit and hair in disarray. "If one of you wouldn't mind watching Jack a few more minutes, I'm going to straighten up."
"I'll watch him," John reassured her, buttoning his shirt.
Arthur moved to Charlotte's side as Abigail was walking away. He asked her, "You ain't talked to Dutch yet, have you?"
"No," Charlotte answered, glancing at Jack. "I was sidetracked."
Arthur released a relieved sigh.
"But I fully intend to."
Abigail returned to their bedroom, taking the time to fix up her hair. When she buttoned her blouse, her hands were still shaking from the fear of finding Jack gone. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth as a sob escaped her. Would she ever be able to wake without fearing the worst when Jack was out of her sight?
When she composed herself once more, Abigail came back downstairs. Arthur and Charlotte hadn't resolved their disagreement and were now standing, facing each other, going back and forth in undertones.
John was leaning against the wall, watching them. As he spotted her entering the room, he informed her, "Tilly offered to get Jack some breakfast."
Abigail nodded, but went to the window to verify his words. As he said, she saw Tilly and Mary-Beth at the table, eating with Jack. In the other room, Lenny and Hosea were now inside, going over a map of Saint Denis, likely finalizing a strategy. Uncle was sleeping on the floor in the corner of the piano room.
Eventually, the whispering disagreement between Charlotte and Arthur caught Hosea's attention. He called from the other room, "What's going on in there?"
"Nothin'," Arthur called back and told Charlotte through gritted teeth, "Don't."
Abigail admired her the defiance she displayed against Arthur. He was a rough man and his menacing expressions intimidated the worst of bastards. Facing against his temper was not an easy task.
Without breaking eye contact with Arthur, Charlotte answered Hosea, "Mr. Matthews, I may have an idea on how you can attain your bank money."
Pure curiosity had Hosea straightening from the table. "Is that so?"
Arthur's glower deepened on Charlotte. "I already told her it ain't a good one."
Hosea and Lenny entered the room, Lenny crossing his arms as Hosea said, "Let's hear it. We're certainly not in the position to disregard any suggestions at this point."
"First of all," Charlotte looked around at all of them. "How much are you expecting from this bank robbery?"
It was Lenny who told her, "The take could be high, ma'am. Upwards of $100,000."
"At least," she murmured.
"Enough to get to Tahiti," John said sardonically under his breath so only Abigail heard.
Charlotte said, "I want to help you get that money."
"Forgive an old man his doubts, ma'am." Hosea's silver eyebrows rose. "But from what I've picked up on, you lack the criminal familiarity to participate in any illegal act."
"Yes," Charlotte admitted. "But I am familiar with banks, Mr. Matthews. My husband worked as a bank manager in Chicago. Perhaps Saint Denis may be an easier bank to..." Her brow crinkled as she thought on the correct term. "...hit. But it should still be protected by other safeguards."
"You're not wrong, but I don't see how you can get past them any better than us."
Charlotte faced him with a determined expression. "I can get you the funds. Granted, not quite the full amount you're seeking, but I think enough to start a new life."
She certainly knew how to attract their interest, Abigail thought as Hosea crossed his arms asking an intrigued, "How?"
"My personal accounts."
"No," Arthur said immediately.
Charlotte went on, "It's the best option for all of you. No one would be at risk of getting hurt or caught."
"I said, no, damn it," bit out Arthur.
Hosea asked a wondering, "Why not?"
Arthur looked between the two. "Hosea, I didn't want her involved with any of this."
"Beg your pardon, Arthur, but you involved her with us the moment you brought her into camp."
That statement made Arthur visibly flinch and clamp his mouth shut.
Hosea brought his attention to Charlotte once more. "What are you thinking, miss?"
"An easy enough concept. I'll simply give you the money."
Arthur made a dissatisfied, negative noise which prompted Charlotte swing around. "You don't control where I spend my money, Mr. Morgan."
"You ain't throwing away your life savings on a group of degenerates that would just as likely slit your throat for it."
"Don't be so coarse," she chided and turned back to the others. "Unfortunately, I don't quite have the same amount you all expected to...acquire."
John asked in his usual foolhardy manner, "Well, how much are you willing to dole out?"
"Approximately $50,000."
They stared at her.
Abigail, in disbelief, asked, "You're tellin' me, you got fifty thousand dollars right now?"
John's jaw was on the floor. "And you want to give it to us? For free?"
"It seems the easiest and wisest course. None of you nor any bankers would be hurt in the process if I merely withdraw the funds for you."
"It's certainly a generous offer," mused Hosea.
Arthur argued, "That ain't enough to support 20 people trying to live a new life overseas."
"I disagree," said Hosea. "It's a fair start, if we spend it wisely."
Arthur gestured in the direction of the map. "You want to throw all these days of plannin' away?"
Abigail wanted to snap at him to shut up. It seemed all he wanted to do was argue for arguments' sake.
"If we can get it by an easier method, it'll be worth it," Hosea challenged. "It sounds like the simplest way we can make this money."
"There ain't no 'making' about it. We're just taking her money like we're a damn charity house."
"We're not swindling it from her. Charlotte's intelligent enough to see where her money's going."
Ignoring their bickering, Lenny said excitedly, "We could be on a ship tonight."
"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves," Charlotte chimed in. "I have the money, yes, but I don't have immediate access to all of it at once."
At their blank expressions, she asked delicately, "Have...any of you ever had a bank account?"
All around the room, they shook their heads.
"Ah, well. One can't simply withdraw the entirety of an amount that large." She went on to explain, "Ever since the financial crisis six years ago, the banking industry's been tight with its loans and withdrawals to prevent another market crash."
"There you go then," Arthur addressed Hosea. "It ain't gonna be easy after all."
Charlotte said thoughtfully, "However, I'm certain the bank would be more willing to part with the money if the withdrawal involved a promising investment."
As if it were a magic word for his full compliance, Hosea began nodding. "Yes. An investment ploy could work."
Arthur warned, "Dutch ain't gonna be happy in a last minute change of plans."
Hosea replied, "You leave Dutch to me. We've been discussing the ins and outs of this for days, but I think he'll go for this. He's had his own misgivings on the robbery."
Arthur frowned. "Not normal for Dutch to second-guess himself, and on something as big as this."
"Yes. Usually, I'm the nervous one. But this," Hosea pointed at Charlotte. "This isn't much different from our scam in Blackwater, except we're getting rid of the middleman and our mark's in on the scheme."
And there's nary a con to see, thought Abigail, studying Charlotte. In her opinion, the offer was too good to be true. They didn't live in a world where money was just handed over to the poorest and most unfortunate of folks. But she didn't see the harm in it. Nothing about it could get them into trouble.
John said what she was thinking aloud, "It's nearly as legitimate as it gets."
Lenny nodded in agreement. "Really, we ain't even doing nothing illegal. Just tricking the bank into an advance on money she's already got."
Arthur protested, "It ain't...right."
Abigail wasn't sure why Arthur was being so resistant in this discussion, bringing up every deterrent he could think of at every opportunity. Was he wanting to go in, guns a-blazing? That's when Abigail witnessed the shameful glance he cast Charlotte's direction and realized it wasn't the job he was nervous over, but the woman involved.
Arthur was ashamed, ashamed of what they were, at how Charlotte would perceive them. Abigail didn't have the luxury for shame anymore. If this was a quick and easy out for her family, she was more than willing to be a participant. She refused to stay in a position where Jack would be in danger again. She was ready to leave this life behind and if that involved some rich lady wanting to part with her money for a bunch of outlaws, she wasn't going to protest.
Abigail hissed at Arthur, "It's the woman's money to do with what she pleases."
She earned a dangerous glare from that remark, but she wasn't cowering from him over this. Not when their future was at stake and at such low costs.
John added, "Compared to everything else we done lately, this will be a walk in the park. What's got you so touchy?"
"Nothin'." Arthur finally relented, not looking at any of them. "Let's get this over with and be done with it and out of here."
John might have missed it, but Abigail hadn't. She been watching his eyes and they'd briefly darted in Charlotte's direction again, filled with concern and...something else, something she couldn't decipher.
Despite the distraction in Saint Denis Abigail and Hosea had tested, the charge they had planted and the patrol times and routes they'd studied, she could tell Hosea liked this idea better. He always was one for simpler scams and this was a more legitimate plan with minimal falsifying.
Hosea and Lenny worked on the presentation, with Charlotte adding suggestions of what the bankers would look for in potential investors. Hosea and Lenny shared ideas of what they thought could be worthy investment opportunities.
Arthur leaned against the wall and held quiet the rest of the discussion. He wasn't contributing, watching silently as the others went back and forth.
Lenny asked, "You know what's always going up all over towns without no one ever questioning?"
John quirked a grin. "Saloons?"
"Churches," Lenny answered, a gleam in his eye. "Money going towards land and the materials for building a church wouldn't be seen as nothing more than a charitable donation on Charlotte's part."
Hosea rubbed his chin. "That's actually not a bad idea, Mr. Summers. Not a bad idea, at all."
Abigail frowned. "What kinda church is worth $50,000?"
"That's the beauty of it," Lenny said excitedly. "It doesn't have to be one, but an investment on multiple throughout the states."
"We'll have someone play a man of the cloth to accompany you, Charlotte. It's too bad Josiah's moved on," Hosea said with regret. "I'm sure he has friends who could forge us the proper documentation. Without it, we're going to have to be diligent in our presentation."
"I'm goin' with her." Arthur pushed from the wall to stand beside Charlotte.
Hosea cocked his head. "If we're working the church angle, no one getting a look at you would take you for the God-fearing type."
"I'm going," Arthur repeated, a growl entering his words.
"You'll not be very convincing with all your bluster." Hosea studied him, mischief in his smile. "But I suppose, you played the mute well enough, Fenton the Friar."
"I'll volunteer to do it." Uncle suddenly spoke up from the corner, begging the question if he was ever sleeping at all. "But I ain't touched a Bible in over twenty years."
"Me neither," Hosea admitted.
John scowled at Uncle. "No one's gonna believe you're coming from anything but a pigsty anyway, old man."
Hosea continued over Uncle's weak protestations, "It won't require too much play-acting, but we'll still need someone who knows what he's talking about."
"My father's teachings were more on the law side of things," Lenny said apologetically.
"If ya'll are set on someone familiar with the Bible..." Abigail crossed her arms, unable to believe she was the only one who thought of it. "What you need is a reverend."
