Charles and Lenny had been scoping out the Saint Denis jailhouse for a couple of weeks now, watching for any sort of lax in guard. However, the authorities here didn't function like those of smaller towns. Despite the casualties of recent weeks, from the failed robberies of both the trolley station and the bank, the number of police officers in this city remained plentiful.

Rushing in and busting John out wasn't a viable option. If they tried, they'd be swarmed by lawmen in full force and shot up in minutes. John might as well be currently kept in a fortress.

In their place, Charles didn't think even Hosea or Dutch could spin a convincing enough yarn to get John released. Not that Charles and Lenny ever had the option to posit a false narrative. They'd be apprehended over the color of their skin well before getting a word out.

Charles wouldn't put it past Lenny to want to try it anyway. That kid wanted desperately to free John, enough that he might become reckless. It was why Charles had postponed a meeting with Eagle Flies to be here. That man's fury guided him in the same manner Lenny's determination to prove himself drove him. But Charles couldn't watch over them both. As much as Rains Fall wished for his help, Charles had ended up in Saint Denis with Lenny, the one more likely to need help getting out of a scrape.

Charles was leaned against a fence in the area across from the police station, but straightened when he spotted Lenny turning the corner, heading for him. Judging by his quick pace and the excited gleam in his eye, he had news.

Lenny had hardly reached him before he was blurting out, "They're movin' him tonight."

Of course they'd been expecting it, hoping for it really. Moving John to another location would give them an opening. If they wanted to be successful with this endeavor, they'd have to be smart about it. "To where?"

"Sisika." Lenny's eyes strayed in the direction of the station and then south. "They got a small boat in Dock Three at the port. They're taking John and two others across town at midnight."

Tonight. It wasn't enough time to retrieve Sadie from Lakay and make it back, though he knew she'd want to be involved. Charles wasn't certain he and Lenny could succeed with only the two of them.

"We can get him out ourselves," Lenny insisted, reading his mind. "Ain't no way they'll have more than two or three guarding the wagon. We can take 'em on."

Lenny didn't lack the brains or the gumption, but he was biting at the chomp to contribute to the gang in a meaningful way since they'd lost the others.

When Dutch, Bill, Javier, Micah and Arthur disappeared, they'd taken all the hope with them. And Hosea Matthews had taken the heart. Charles studied the group every time he returned to camp and they were cracking under the pressure. Sadie remained strong-willed, but it wasn't her nature to coddle anyone any more than it was his. Like Charles, she remained realistic of the situation.

Charles and Lenny had made discreet inquiries whenever they were in Saint Denis, but there wasn't anything new. And Hosea had disappeared better than Charles himself could. If Hosea was still in the city, no one was talking or he wasn't alive to make it known.

Not wanting to linger over the memories of lost friends, Charles asked, "Why haven't they moved him sooner?"

"I got it on good authority that Milton wants him held at the jail, but the Saint Denis police don't seem to care. There ain't no proof or eyewitnesses that put John at the bank."

"There wouldn't be," Charles muttered. John hadn't joined them until they'd been fleeing across the rooftops. He'd only been caught because he'd chosen the wrong time and place to leave the city.

"I don't get it then. How can they hold him for so long if they can't prove he was at the bank?" Lenny shook his head. "And when the bank weren't even robbed."

Charles shrugged. "I suppose, one word from Milton is all they need to keep him locked up."

"That's why they're sending him to Sisika. They don't got the space to hold a nobody."

Once John was behind the walls of Sisika, he really would be behind a fortress. It would be damn near impossible to get him out. Jailbreaks did happen out of that penitentiary, but its location on the island ruined a speedy escape.

Charles murmured, "Attacking the wagon transporting him could work out, as long as it isn't guarded to the teeth."

"That's just it." Excitement had Lenny's voice rising. "It ain't gonna be."

"What do you mean?"

"The mayor's hosting a party, for his deputy's recent engagement. They're allocating a good chunk of the force over there tonight."

"That still leaves Pinkerton agents."

Lenny's grin widened. "They've moved on somewhere else."

Charles glanced at him sharply, prickles of unease standing up the hair on the back of his neck. "You haven't seen them in Saint Denis?"

"A few here and there, but nowhere near the numbers they had before." Lenny added, "Maybe they've given up since the others went missing."

"Unlikely," Charles disagreed. Agent Milton had proven stubborn in his pursuit and Charles didn't see him giving in until he saw corpses.

"I'm taking it as a good sign," Lenny argued good-naturedly.

Charles smiled a little at that. Lenny had proven one of the few left in the gang with any remaining optimism. He went about camp cheering up the others, reassuring everyone that the missing members were okay and they'd all reunite and be back on their feet in no time. Charles wasn't sure how much Lenny believed the claims himself, but his encouragement kept the others' spirits high.

Even Charles, usually skeptical of any possible good fortune, found himself saying, "Let's check out the docks."

Lenny grinned. "Now you're talkin'."

He and Lenny strolled down the streets of Saint Denis, not making eye contact with anyone in case someone took a slight offense. Lenny forged ahead in confident strides while Charles mapped in his mind the possible path the prison wagon would take to the docks. If they implement this breakout on their own, they'd have to have strategy. Charles saw two options: they could attack the wagon when it set off from the station or before the prisoners boarded the boat.

Directly across from the police station was a park with a small lake. Charles determined it'd make a decent ambush spot with the tall fencing along the street. It was too close to the jailhouse for them to pull off anything with guns so it'd be difficult to accomplish without raising the alarm.

As for staging a spot on the docks, there were always workers milling around, even at night. In the daytime, no one paid him and Lenny any mind, but one never knew if they'd interfere when it involved a prisoner.

Charles quickly determined the docks were far from an ideal position to rescue John. Their backs would be to the water and it was too short notice to possess a boat to flee on. That left an escape on horseback, but it would be difficult to manage with the train station near. The park ambush was their best bet. It would be a straight shot west out of town, if everything went well.

Decided, Charles said, "Let's head back."

"What you thinkin'?" Lenny asked as they crossed the tracks between stopped train carriages.

Before Charles could answer, Lenny stepped up onto a train car connector, turning as he hopped off backwards. In doing so, Lenny crashed straight into another person walking between the cars. Both men fell to the ground, groaning.

Charles rushed over, bounding over the connector, a knife automatically in his hand.

On the other side of the train car, Lenny was saying, "I'm sorry."

The injured party snapped, "Watch where you're going, loco!"

"Javier!" Lenny exclaimed.

"Lenny?" Surprised, Javier glanced his way. "Charles! What are you two doing here?"

"Us?" Lenny laughed, gripping Javier's hand and helping him off the gravel. "You're the one who was lost at sea."

Javier grinned. "Not so lost anymore."

"The others too?" Charles asked, hope sparking.

"Sí. They're all alive. Little worse for wear after some trouble. We were stranded on an island until Dutch got us out. We only got back on the mainland last night."

"And you came to Saint Denis?" Charles questioned, curious.

"Had to see a doctor about my leg and..." Javier reached into his vest and pulled out a letter. "Dutch wanted me to stop at the post office in case any of you left a message. Lakay, is it?"

Lenny nodded. "Yeah, we're all up there, except the reverend and Hosea. Boy, they're all gonna be happy to see you fellas."

"So, you two on a job or something?"

"Something like that," Charles answered.

Lenny clapped Javier's shoulder. "You up for a breakout? You can be our third man."

"Sure." Javier raised a brow. "Who we busting out?"

"The cops are moving John from the police station and onto a boat tonight if we don't stop it," Lenny explained and offered, "You in, friend?"

"'Course," Javier said without hesitation. "He's my brother. He'd do the same for me."

XXXXXXXXX

Five minutes after the city clock chimed midnight, there was finally movement from the police station. Charles had a position closest to the station, on the other side of the park's fence, hidden from view of any officers. Lenny and Javier were further down the lane, at the ready for Charles' signal.

As Lenny had reported, three men were being transported tonight. The orange glow of the street lamps shone on the prisoners and Charles picked out John as one of them. He was loaded onto a cage on wheels, hands chained together, but his ankles remained free, which would make this easier.

A policeman on horseback led the procession. The prisoner wagon followed, two guards sitting side by side at the front. In the rear of the line was another rider, but this one with a rifle in hand and eyes that snapped around, on the lookout for trouble. He'd have to be gotten rid of first.

Charles scaled the fence and perched on the top once the procession passed. He watched with keen eyes, waiting for the wagon to near one of the park's gated entrances. When it did, Charles whistled, short and sharp and then covered his mouth with a mask.

The observant guard in the back turned sharply in his saddle, seeking out the source of the sound. He spotted Charles even in the dark and opened his mouth to warn the others.

A swift, precise throw and a knife suddenly protruded from the policeman's throat, cutting off all sound. The guard made to clutch his neck, but his body weakened before his hand reached the wound. He tipped off the side of his horse and onto the ground. The horse stopped, confused as it shifted in place unhappily. Charles dropped from the fence and strode up, sparing the animal a pat and a brief hush. He had no time to do more.

Up ahead, Javier yanked the leading guard from his horse, stabbing him quickly in the heart.

One guard stood in his seat from the wagon, reaching for his gun. "Hey, you—"

Charles produced another throwing knife and there was another guard without a voice.

Only one man was left. Lenny was next up, stepping into view and holding his rifle trained on the driver. "Hands up!"

The driver, a wrinkled man with white hair that stood out in the dark, raised his hands, a visible trembling in his movement. "Don't kill me. Please."

"Who's got the key?" Lenny demanded, promising nothing.

The old timer pointed at the man slouched over next to him. Charles strode up, stepped on the side and dug in the man's coat until he found a metal ring with multiple keys. "Got it."

Javier passed by him. "Toss it here."

Charles did so and Javier made his way to the back of the wagon. He jingled the keys one at a time until one clicked the lock open.

"Am I glad to see you fellas," John commented as he jumped down. He wasn't in black and white stripes yet, but he'd been provided a simple, loose white shirt and worn brown pants that looked like they were made of burlap.

Lenny grinned his way. "Likewise."

As for the other two prisoners who had shared the brief ride with John, they ran towards the alleys of the industrial district without sparing a word of thanks.

It was a momentary distraction, but enough for them to discover the old man wasn't all coward. Before they knew it, the last officer fumbled with a whistle around his neck. He blew a two second screech into the night before Charles wrested it from his hand. Charles hauled the officer off his seat and threw him to the ground. He leapt after, landing on top of the officer. With one punch across the jaw, Charles had him incapacitated.

But the damage was done. The distinct sound of boots running on stone could be heard on the inside complex of the police station. Any minute now they would be swarmed by officers.

"Shit," John remarked as he stared at the police station.

"We should've killed him," said Javier.

"Too late for it now." Charles made for the park's gate. "Come on!"

Four horses awaited them, hitched patiently along the fence. As they all mounted up—John fumbling some with his manacled wrists—multiple whistles broke out behind them, too near.

They raced away, rounding the pond and leaping through an unfinished part of the fence on the other side. They crossed over the bridge and made it out of Saint Denis, policemen trailing, but not in firing range.

Before they could celebrate upon reaching the outskirts of Saint Denis, thunder crashed across the sky. A moment later, a rainstorm swarmed over them, stinging their skin in a punishing sudden downpour.

With the cloud's outburst, they were forced to stick to the roads, but even those were becoming slippery. Charles had the lead, keeping an eye out for a place to shelter. He would have preferred more distance from Saint Denis, but they couldn't stay out in the open like this. They passed along the border of Caliga Hall and he spotted a rotting barn, abandoned.

"Follow me!" Charles called back, but he didn't know if the others had heard. Through the rain they dashed as the storm rolled through, drowning fleeing outlaws and dry fields alike.

Charles reached the barn first. One of the doors was torn off, so he nudged Taima in cautiously. The roof was riddled with holes, but the barn remained dry enough for their party. He dismounted and led Taima to the back of the barn, where he could tie her lead.

Lenny, Javier, and then John filed in behind, each making their way to the back.

Lakay was close, Charles was sure of it. It had to be around the deep part of the swamps, but they wouldn't make it back tonight, not in the dark and in this wet. "We'll stay here for the night."

"Shit." John shook his head. "It can't ever be easy, can it?"

Charles returned to the open barn door, checking for any possible tails as Lenny replied, "What are you talkin' about? That was smooth as butter."

While they rested, Lenny filled Javier and John in on what had happened since the failed bank robbery. Javier worked on getting John's cuffs off while Charles kept watch.

"So, there's no money?" John asked, incredulous, when Lenny finished.

"After all that trouble?" Javier was in similar disbelief. "Nothing?"

Lenny shook his head with regret. "The reverend had it, but no one knows where he is either."

"Well, shit," John said. "Hosea's missing and the money's missing. Ain't heard much of nothin' on the inside, but I didn't know it was this bad. What a goddamn mess."

Charles couldn't agree more.

"But Dutch is back," Javier put in. "He'll set everything right."

Javier said this with confidence and Charles wanted to believe him. He'd joined up with this gang because he believed in Dutch's cause, in the way everyone was treated equally and the defiance of the corrupt government. But ever since the bank incident, Charles had been reluctantly questioning some things.

When he found out later through Lenny and Charlotte about the planned withdrawal, he wondered at Dutch's decision-making. Charles had set aside all those burning questions of that day. There had been no need to contemplate it when they'd heard of the shipwreck. Dutch and the others had been gone.

Now, those questions from weeks ago rose to the surface again. Initially, it had confused him greatly when they'd busted into the bank to find Arthur already there. It was a rare occasion for Dutch to be so wrong about a job, but it stood out starkly in Charles' mind.

Why had Dutch not waited? How had the Pinkertons got to them so quickly?

Charles wasn't opposed to bank robberies, but Dutch's want for one had served no purpose in this instance. In the aftermath, they hadn't earned a single dollar. They'd been split up, multiple gang members were missing, some possibly dead, and the rest were struggling with destitution.

Could the return of Dutch truly fix all of that?

With the rising of the sun, came the clearing off of the storm, but not the clearing of Charles' misgivings. He woke the others, wanting to move before any patrols swept the area. The sun shone high and bright when the reached Lakay. However, the air drowned them with its dampness.

Charles could feel something wasn't right as soon as they entered the boundary of camp. Sadie was on guard duty, on high alert and tense when she heard them riding in. When she saw who it was, she visibly relaxed.

"Hey, Charles, Lenny," Sadie greeted. She spied Javier and John at the back and grinned. "I see you two ran into trouble in Saint Denis and brought it back with you."

John nodded to her. "Mrs. Adler."

Charles eyed the buildings of the camp and took notice of the bullet holes and then Bill at the edge of the swamp dumping a body.

"What happened here?"

Sadie glanced backwards. "Let's just say the gators got themselves a big breakfast this morning."

"Who?"

"Pinkertons. Who else?"

Charles met Lenny's eye and he knew they were thinking the same thing. The reason the Pinkertons weren't in Saint Denis was because they'd moved to launch an attack on the gang.

Charles turned back to Sadie. "Everyone alright?"

"As can be expected." She spit onto the ground. "Ain't none of us dead at least. But Mr. Pearson and Miss Grimshaw are packin', for obvious reasons."

While Sadie gave them the details, she made eye contact with all of them except him and he had an inkling as to why.

Charles wouldn't lie to himself. Sadie springing herself on him when they'd found Lakay hadn't left him unaffected. They'd been on the run so long, he hadn't had the time to pursue women. When she'd kissed him, he'd fought his natural urges to break it off before it became something they couldn't come back from.

Deeper than that, Charles recognized her actions as reactionary more than anything. He knew she didn't see him in that way. While the incident had left him feeling hollow, it had been the right move to put a stop to it.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Abigail suddenly from outside the main building. "John! John, is that you?"

She came running, throwing herself headlong at him.

"Settle down, woman," John said roughly, fighting to keep his balance. "Ain't been gone that long."

Abigail pulled back from him and smacked his arm. "You had me and the boy scared to death. We thought you was gonna hang any day." She turned to Charles, Lenny and Javier, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you, boys."

"What's all the commotion?"

Dutch rounded the corner of the shack, Arthur behind him, distracted and frowning in consternation. When he looked up, Arthur's grim expression lightened at the sight of them, while Dutch's soured.

"John." Dutch raised his chin. "What are you doing here?"

Micah had left his perch on a barrel to hover over Dutch's left shoulder, smirking in a way that had Charles narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"It's good to see you too, partner," John responded without warmth.

"I hadn't sent for you yet."

Charles crossed his arms, the comment making him feel defensive. Dutch hadn't been back long enough to call the shots.

Lenny spoke up, so eager to explain his part in the breakout that he didn't hear the underlining tone in Dutch's words. "Me and Charles ran into Javier and got John out, boss."

"Did you?" Dutch's gaze cut across the three of them, first Lenny, whose smile fell away to confusion and then Javier, his head bowing in contrition.

However, when Dutch's eyes met Charles', Charles didn't waver. He stated, "We saw an opportunity and we took it."

Dutch looked away first, bringing his attention back to Arthur. "Loyalty, Arthur. It ain't what it used to be." Dutch turned and retreated towards the back of the main building.

Arthur frowned at Dutch's back, scratching his neck. "I ain't too sure what that's about." He faced John, a grin tugging his lips. "Marston. Lettin' everyone else pull you out of your own messes again, I see."

"Shut up."

"The boy's been missing you something fierce." Abigail pulled on John's arm, dragging him inside. "Jack! Your pa's back!"

"Nice job, kid," Arthur told Lenny.

Lenny released a smile, but its brightness had dimmed since their arrival. "Thanks, Arthur."

"You too, Javier. Guess the work never stops, does it?"

"Never a dull moment," Javier agreed as he entered the building.

Arthur reached Charles and clapped him on the back. "Good to see you again, Charles."

Charles couldn't help a smile. "You too."

"Thanks for what you did in Saint Denis. Real brave drawing them off like that."

For a moment, Charles thought he meant last night with John, but then realized Arthur was referring to the guards he'd baited to chase him weeks ago.

"No problem."

Arthur used the hand on his shoulder to lead him away from the shack where everyone was reuniting. "Say, you feel up to riding with me?"

Honestly, Charles had been hoping for a rest, but Arthur didn't make requests lightly. "Always. Where to?"

"Dutch wants me to take a gander up past Butcher's Creek. Find us a spot for a new camp."

Charles frowned. He'd explored the area while hunting and knew it well. Rains Fall had told him to avoid the caves because of the animalistic gang that infested the area. "That's Murfree Brood country."

"That's...why I'm asking you to ride with me."

"I understand," Charles said. "And I know the way."

"Before we head out that way..." Arthur glanced at the shack. "I wanna get Charlotte home. She lives north of Annesburg."

Charles nodded. "Alright. But that'll be a lengthy ride."

"I know it, but it's gotta be done or she's gonna get herself killed hangin' 'round us much longer." Arthur rubbed the back of his head, not meeting his eye all of the sudden. "Speakin' of, you wanna go inside and get her?"

Charles felt both of his eyebrows rise. "Me?"

"I told her we were headin' out soon, but I got a feelin' she ain't as inclined to..." He trailed off and finished, "I reckon, she won't try and argue with you."

Charles saw how uncomfortable the request was making him. "Alright, Arthur."

"I'll, uh, ready the horses. Maybe get something from Pearson as far as food."

While Charles was confused over what Arthur was asking of him, he saw no reason not to do it. He left Arthur and entered the cabin, but bumped into Charlotte on her way out.

"Sorry, ma'am."

"Pardon me, Mr. Smith."

"Heading somewhere?"

"Why, yes," Charlotte answered, facing him fully. "I've just finished my goodbyes with the girls. Arthur's taking me home today."

The surprise must have cropped up in his expression because she smiled and asked, "Did Arthur send you to collect me because he thought I would refuse him if he did so himself?"

He only answered with a shrug.

"I hope he doesn't mean to avoid me." She released a small, helpless chuckle. "Oh dear."

"He wants to see you home safe, ma'am," Charles felt compelled to add.

"As soon as he saw I was still here, he wanted me to leave and I convinced him otherwise." Her expression grew troubled. "I know it's time I went home. I'm surely long overdue for it. And after last night, well." She shuddered. "It can be quite dangerous, this life you all lead."

"Yes."

"I do wish that money had been recovered." Her brow furrowed. "Hopefully, the reverend is taking great care with it."

"I'm sure he is, ma'am," Charles answered mildly, not quite believing it to be true.

"Where is Arthur?" she asked as they left the cabin.

Charles glanced at the horses and didn't see him. "He must be getting some supplies."

Her gaze moved to the cabin and then back to him. "Charles, you care for the people here, don't you?"

"Some of them," he conceded guardedly.

She bit her lip a moment and said, "The Pinkertons aren't as incompetent as Dutch has claimed them to be. In fact, twice now I've witnessed this gang nearly pinned down by them."

He nodded and started their walk to the horses. He'd noticed it too and her reminder had him feeling uneasy over it.

"I'm not a fool, Charles," said Charlotte.

Startled, he answered honestly, "I never thought you were."

She studied him. "I may not know you all so very well, but I know the difference between malicious intent and a necessary defense."

Charles nodded again.

"When those agents began their shooting last night, they weren't doing it because they feared a bunch of outlaws were plotting horrendous acts." She closed her eyes. "It begs the question of when justice is truly served."

"I don't think anyone sees it that way."

"The fervent way Mr. Milton pursues you all has me worried for your future."

"Once you're home," Charles suggested, "it's best you forget everything you know about us."

She opened her eyes, appearing amused. "Arthur said exactly the same thing."

"'Bout what?" Arthur had strolled up.

"Over forgetting about you all once we've parted," Charlotte said.

"Sound advice. The longer you stay, the higher chance Milton catches on who you are and takes you in for questioning."

She seemed to want to say something more, but Arthur asked, "You two ready? I reckon we best get a move on while the weather's calm."

Charles petted Taima and climbed back onto the saddle, murmuring to her, "Not quite done for the day, girl."

Arthur mounted up, holding out his hand for Charlotte to take. Once she was seated comfortably behind him, they set off.

"You alright back there?" Arthur glanced behind him, where Charlotte had a tight clutch around his middle.

"Yes. I'm a bit out of practice when it comes to riding." Charlotte shifted slightly. "So, what happened to you gentlemen? We heard there was a shipwreck."

Charles lifted his head, curious of that too. Lenny hadn't given Javier a chance to explain much. "Javier said you ended up in Cuba?"

"Uh, not exactly," Arthur said, uncomfortable. "An island off of there called Guarma."

"A tropical island?" That sounded a little too convenient. "Isn't that exactly what Dutch wanted?"

"Guess it didn't exactly live up to his ideals."

Charlotte questioned, "What happened in Guarma?"

"Nothin' nice." As if he wanted to change the subject, Arthur asked Charlotte, "Why'd you stick around anyway? You said you was catching the train after we hit the bank."

"I did intend to, but it was all very confusing when we parted."

"Confusing, how?"

Charles dropped back, allowing Charlotte to fill Arthur in on what happened in his absence. Charles was beginning to understand why it seemed to be difficult for Arthur to keep Charlotte around, while simultaneously wanting to spend more time with her.

Charles hadn't had much of a conversation with Charlotte since she'd ingratiated herself with everyone. He knew she was well-liked and he at first hadn't understood. She wasn't with them to rob, murder or break the chain of political injustices.

In the last few weeks, little things around the camp started making her intentions obvious. Charlotte pitched in with the laundry when Mary-Beth and Tilly struggled to keep up. She searched for herbs and vegetables for Pearson's stew. She was a second pair of eyes for Abigail watching over little Jack. She kept company with Karen and Uncle, even when they became too belligerent for everyone else.

If Lenny was the one raising everyone's spirits with his optimism, Charlotte was the one keeping them afloat when he was away. She listened for direction from Grimshaw and Sadie, but spared time in her day to ask after everyone's needs.

Charles found her strangely reminiscent of Jenny Kirk in that aspect. And maybe that was the sole reason the gang had accepted her into the fold so readily. In these uncertain times, a familiar presence went a long way.

What all these actions amounted to was the fact that Charlotte cared. She'd emerged as a light in the dark over the gang's fallen course. It was difficult to rid oneself of such a light.

His name called in alarm brought Charles' attention around to the present.

The horse in front of him had stopped on the trail. Arthur's head was forward, chin resting on his chest. Charlotte had a tight hold of him, but he was slipping from the saddle.

Charles spurred Taima on to reach their side, catching Arthur's shoulder to keep him from falling.

"What happened?"

Charlotte shook her head. "He fainted. I don't know why. It came out of nowhere."

"Arthur. Arthur." Charles tried to wake him, but it didn't work. Arthur's cheeks had paled to a worrying shade, his skin clammy.

"We have to get him help," said Charlotte.

Charles agreed, but Arthur couldn't stay on with Charlotte when she had no way of holding on. As gently as he could, Charles grasped hold of Arthur and maneuvered him to lay across the back of Taima. It wasn't dignified, but it wouldn't be for long.

"Come on," he told Charlotte and took off.

Van Horn was the closest town, just down the hill. They'd been riding on the trail around it, avoiding the main roads, but now Charles guided Taima in that direction until they merged onto a widened track. Charles pulled ahead, even with Arthur as extra weight, giving credence to Charlotte's claim to being out of practice on a horse. Once he reached the first set of buildings in Van Horn, Charles realized he wasn't sure where to go next.

Two men and a woman leaned up against the old, burnt down sheriff's office. Charles stopped Taima in front of them and asked, "Is there a doctor in town?"

The man farthest to the right twiddled a cigar. "What you want to know that for?"

"My friend—"

"Don't tell him, Frank," interrupted the woman, her nose scrunching up. "I don't want this stranger thinking we welcome his type 'round here."

Charles gritted his teeth. They didn't have the time for this bullshit.

Charlotte caught up to him then and repeated the question, "Where do we find the nearest doctor?"

The first two who had spoken to Charles eyed her with similar disdain, but the last one of the company, a young man who hadn't spoken moved away from the brick wall. He pointed down the lane. "Doc lives in the house at the end of town. Takes patients there too."

Charles encouraged Taima forward without another word as Charlotte spared a moment to express her thanks.

Charles ignored the looks as he rushed down the muddy road without slowing. Most of Van Horn's residents seemed to be well into their drinks this time of day so it was simple enough for Charles to avoid their sluggish movements.

When he reached the end of the block, to the house the man spoke of, he dismounted. He started to carefully remove his friend from the horse when Arthur woke up with a gasping intake of breath.

"Can you walk, my friend?"

Arthur looked at him, wheezing and Charles wasn't sure whether the man was aware of his surroundings.

But eventually he said, "Yeah."

Charles kept a tight grasp of him while Charlotte joined them again. She slid from Arthur's horse and passed them in favor of making her way to the door. She started knocking frantically.

A woman answered the door, a wrinkled frown on her agitated face. "What do you want?"

"Is the doctor in?"

Her dark eyes swept over to Arthur, who was mostly leaning on Charles rather than his own feet. "For a price."

Charlotte blanched, but Charles offered his leather money pouch without hesitation. Charlotte dug out a few coins and passed them over. Apparently, it was enough to gain entry as the woman opened the door wide.

Charlotte started in, but the woman blocked her once more, her eyes roving between the two. "Family members only."

Charles clenched his fists and loosed his grip on Arthur. "Fine."

The woman's attention swung to Charlotte. "And you? Who are you to this man?"

Charlotte appeared startled. "I'm...I'm..."

Charles knew she was about to speak the truth, but someone should be in there with Arthur. "His wife."

Charlotte shot him a look, but didn't object to his assertion. The woman grunted as if she disbelieved him, but moved aside again, allowing Arthur and Charlotte entry.

The door slammed shut and Charles released a sigh, eyeing the town before him. A part of him had an urge to head over to the saloon for a drink. He worried for Arthur, but there was nothing he could do here.

Instead, he made sure the horses were hitched and settled against the fence to wait. His attention went to the town again and he frowned as he started noticing peculiarities. Van Horn was a pass through, only-hit-the-saloon kind of place.

Yet, Charles observed a number of horses tied to posts and too many men in suits, standing around as if awaiting orders.

Charles was instantly on edge. Could those men be who he suspected them to be? If so, he and Arthur were lucky they hadn't been recognized by how recklessly and openly they'd ridden in.

Seeking confirmation, he headed over to the post office, walking along the dock silently and watching the suited men. He didn't have to search long to hear a conversation that had his ears perking up.

"According to Milton, they have nowhere else to go," said a suited man to another walking by. "They're flailing."

"I don't want to head into those hills," shuddered the second. "There's unnatural things up there. Cannibals, I hear."

"We don't have anything to fear."

The second argued, "You don't think those outlaws killed enough of us? How many got out of Lakay last night? Only a few. I noticed Mr. Milton made sure he was one of them."

"There's a reason he's lead agent on this and you're not."

"Yeah, yeah. All I know is I can't wait to catch these bastards and return home." The men continued walking on, towards the saloon.

Charles heard enough, choosing not to follow them. It was Pinkerton agents. And they were stationed in Van Horn. How did they know of their plans to move up near Butcher's Creek? Charles had thought it'd been a crazy enough idea that nobody would follow them.

Charles returned to the doctor's little house, not bothering to knock as he swung the front door open. He was ready to face the wrath of the homeowner if he had to. However, the woman who had obstructed his entry initially wasn't present to do so again. He followed the sound of lowered voices, pausing beside the open door to peer in and verify the identities of his companions.

"Bet you're wishin' you cut and run now," Arthur said, sounding as if he were making an attempt at humor.

"No, Arthur," Charlotte answered softly, taking a seat next to him on the edge of a bed. "I don't wish that."

"All them bullets, all them horses that threw me, all them fights and this..." Arthur dropped a fist on his chest, saying bitterly, "This is what will do me in."

At the sight of Arthur looking as defeated as Charles had ever seen him, he hesitated. Arthur had received bad news and Charles was about to pile on more.

"What did it all even mean?" Arthur said in disgust.

Charlotte told him, "I think it means...you have a chance to really think about how you want to continue your life."

Arthur lifted his head. "How's that?"

"Make your time worth it. Continue to do more good in this world." Charlotte took his hand. "Like you did with me."

Arthur barked a short, self-deprecating laugh. "Don't know why I should. I ain't deservin' of salvation and I ain't got no good in me."

Charlotte fell silent at his harsh words and Charles moved to enter, but stopped when Arthur spoke again.

"That ain't to say I don't see it others," he said quietly. "Good folk who is kind when they don't need to be." Arthur paused. "Like you."

Charles didn't want to interrupt their private conversation, but neither did he want to linger any longer in this town.

Charles knocked on the door frame and entered the room. "Arthur, Charlotte. Time to go."

Charlotte stood, retrieving Arthur's coat thrown over a chair. "After you drop me off, Arthur, you need to promise me you'll take a day or two to rest."

"I ain't got a day or two. Dutch wants me to get us moved today."

Charlotte's brows furrowed disapprovingly. "You are most certainly not doing that today. You heard the doctor. The best thing for you is rest."

"I ain't got a choice."

"Charles?" Charlotte twisted around to appeal to him.

"Charlotte's right," Charles agreed. "But even if she wasn't, we need to leave Van Horn. Now."

Arthur ignored Charlotte's anxious fretting and stood, unsteady on his feet. That simple movement had him sweating, but he asked. "What's the rush?"

"Trouble." The both of them turned to him. "I'll explain when we're away."

The trio were silent as they left the doctor's house, mounted up and immediately took the road north. Charles kept the rear, watchful of any agents who might take notice of their departure and try to follow.

Once they reached the woods and were out of view of the town, Arthur slowed sooner than Charles would have preferred. He dismounted, rubbing his chest as he coughed.

Charles stopped next to him. "You doing okay?"

"Just dandy." Arthur spit and told him, "Doc gave me a shot of energy."

Charlotte, seemingly ruffled, commented, "What she should have given you was a sedative."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"She?" Charles wondered aloud.

From atop the horse, Charlotte addressed him first. "The woman who answered the door was the doctor. It was why she was so cautious in allowing all of us inside at once." She turned to Arthur. "You need to rest."

"I just got back from vacation, didn't you hear?" Arthur said sarcastically, "A tropical paradise."

"And the first thing you do is get into a gunfight upon your return."

"That weren't my fault."

Before their discussion turned into more of an argument, Charles broke in, "We can't move near Butcher's Creek."

"What?" Arthur swung around. "Why not?"

Charles informed him of the short conversation he'd overheard, of the Pinkertons using Van Horn as a base.

"Jesus," Arthur said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why they so confident? Can they predict Dutch's plan so easily?"

"I don't know, but I don't think we should give them any reason to be proven right."

"No doubt. But where the hell we s'posed to turn now? They chased us from the west, from the south and ran us into the sea."

As ill-timed and unfortunate as Arthur's illness was, it had brought them into town. Charles had learned Milton was fast on their tails, ahead even, since he somehow knew their next move. "Guess all that leaves is north."

"This is all a goddamn mess." Arthur swiped his hat off and wiped his forehead with his arm. "Dutch ain't gonna be pleased his plan is ruined. Again."

"If I may make a suggestion," Charlotte interjected, "why don't you come to Willard's Rest?"

"Charlotte..."

"There's plenty of space for the wagons and it's off the trail," she explained to Charles rather than Arthur. "Deep enough in the woods that you'd all be hidden if you traveled in discreetly."

"That ain't gonna happen," refuted Arthur.

"It doesn't need to be for long, does it?" Charlotte did address Arthur now. "I heard Dutch say he only needs a few days."

"Dutch says a lot of shit."

Charlotte coaxed, "Use my land as a temporary sanctuary."

Charles wasn't entirely familiar with the area, but it sounded promising, especially on short notice. "A few days would be enough to regroup and come up with a new plan."

"Charles, don't encourage her," Arthur said, irritated.

Charles slid from Taima and pulled Arthur aside, out of earshot of Charlotte still on the saddle. "Where else can we go right now? Where else would the Pinkertons not think to look?"

"That ain't the point," said Arthur in exasperation. "Charlotte should be nowhere near it."

"Charlotte's not making this offer only for you," Charles informed him. "I've seen her at camp. She's befriended most everyone."

"Exactly what I didn't want to happen." Arthur sighed, rubbing a hand across his jaw, exhaustion curtaining his features. "I know what you're saying, Charles. We ain't got much choice with them Pinkertons near unless we wanna risk getting taken in." Arthur met his eyes, regretful. "I wanted her safe and kept out of the shit we're sinking in."

"At this point," Charles said, "I think she knows what she's getting herself into with us."

"I ain't too sure she does, but I ain't seein' any way else outta here," Arthur conceded.

"Well?" Charlotte prompted, as she hadn't heard their conversation.

"Just 'cause trouble comes visitin'," Arthur told her wryly, "it don't mean you need to offer it a place to stay."

Charlotte smiled, seeming to read in his expression that he'd been convinced. "I'm sure none of you will be any trouble."

"Darlin'," Arthur told her grimly, "trouble our way, it never comes alone."