The secret to Javier's success in charming women was to find their weakness.

Every woman had one, a soft spot that left them susceptible to persuasion once it was discovered. Javier had cracked the secrets to most of the women in the gang a long time ago.

For some of them, their weakness had been easy to figure out. Susan and Molly only needed a compliment on their looks to get them preening. Karen liked when he was playful and witty. Mary-Beth blushed anytime he whispered his responses in Spanish, no matter what he said. Before she committed to John, Javier found Abigail preferred light touches on her skin, a finger brushed along her arm could glaze her eyes over. Even Jenny, who had claimed to have no interest in him except as a close friend, could be persuaded for favors with a little sweet-talking.

But, of all of them, Javier hadn't been able to crack Tilly.

When he first met her, she wouldn't reciprocate even one of the flirty smiles he sent her way. She was wary of men, even the trustworthy ones in the gang. She laughed plenty with the girls and eventually reserved her smiles for the men who didn't bullshit her. It took Javier a lot of bullshitting to figure that out.

Javier thought he'd uncovered the one thing to make her weak in the knees when he'd been strumming at his guitar one night. She'd taken a seat nearby and begun humming along. When he caught her eye as he sang, it was the first time she'd smiled at him. It'd been a start, even if all it accomplished was pleasing him more than her.

Until he found out she enjoyed his guitar as much as Uncle's banjo maldito.

After that, Javier had attempted different tactics to lure her in his favor, but whenever Tilly sensed him trying a little too hard, she rolled her eyes and left his company. Eventually, he gave up on the occupation, believing Tilly too cautious at his approach to ever be won over.

Javier missed the days when all his time spent at camp was idle and playful instead of tense and uncertain. Now, they were on their way to another camp once again. He hadn't even spent a night in Lakay before Dutch was ordering it packed up.

If this trip to Beaver Hollow took any longer, Javier was going to go loco. Lenny had just informed them they were halfway when their progress was hampered by patrols riding unsettlingly close on the eastern trails. Sadie spotted them first and Dutch led the group across the Kamassa River to avoid the agents.

At the rate of their travel, they were going to discover Bill had bled out while he waited at Beaver Hollow for them. The going was slow with the wagons when all Javier wanted to do was push Boaz onward with haste.

Their speed only served to slow down once they crossed the river. Another set of patrols had been spotted on the western side. The caravan was forced to halt their progress entirely if they didn't want to wind up intersecting the agents up the trail a little further.

Lenny volunteered to join Sadie and find a safe path while the remaining gang used the time to rest by Lake Elysian. Since getting back, Lenny had been doing everything he could to get on Dutch's good side. For some reason that Javier didn't quite understand, Dutch hadn't been happy that they'd gotten John out of jail.

Sure, the two had had a disagreement in Saint Denis, but Javier didn't think that should stop them from saving their brother. Dutch was hurt by John's doubt and anger he knew, but the two of them needed to talk through it or their friendship would fall apart.

However, Javier had a more pressing problem than hurt feelings between friends to wade through. In his pocket, a letter burned a warning, reminding him he needed to speak with Dutch. Its content may contain information of value.

When Javier had collected the mail in Saint Denis after their return from Guarma, the letter from 'Caroline' hadn't been the only one at the post office. There was another, of more mysterious origins.

This note was short, only two lines long, but addressed to 'Tacitus Kilgore' so there was no mistaking the intended recipient.

It read:

Come as soon as possible. I have the Old Boy.

74 Courtenay St, ask for George

Giuseppe Muldoon

Javier had never heard of a Mr. Muldoon associated with the gang. He didn't recognize the handwriting. It was in cursive, neat and succinct. Not exactly the script of an outlaw. He couldn't tell the tone of the note either. Whether it was a threat or informative.

'Old Boy' could mean many things, but because Tacitus Kilgore had been used, Javier reserved some optimism on who it could be.

But he hadn't told anyone yet. Everyone in camp could use some hope, but not false hope. It was why he needed to speak with Dutch, but there hadn't been a moment to spare since he'd returned. They'd had to pack and there was no place for privacy in Lakay. Especially with Micah's sudden need to stick to Dutch's side all day.

With them having to rest until Sadie and Lenny brought back directions of a safe path, Javier thought it the perfect time to bring the note to Dutch's attention.

Micah was at Dutch's side, speaking adamantly in a low volume so Javier couldn't hear the conversation. He stopped and broke in, "Dutch? Can I speak with you?"

Dutch looked up. "Of course."

"Alone." Javier raised his brows at Micah.

"I got to take a piss anyway," Micah said. He pointed at Dutch. "Think about what I said about Cornwall. It's a good idea and it won't take much."

He tromped off and Javier turned to Dutch. "Cornwall?"

"A little nugget of a plan we're cooking up." Dutch waved a hand, indicating for him to disregard asking more questions. "What can I do for you, son?"

Javier explained the letter, where he'd acquired it and handed it over for Dutch to read.

"It may be a trap. Or 'Old Boy' could be—"

"Hosea," Dutch voiced aloud, a tremor in his voice as a glimmer of hope entered his eyes.

Javier nodded. "It's possible, but I'm not familiar with anyone named Muldoon. Are you?"

Dutch's brow furrowed. "Muldoon...Muldoon. Not anyone I know personally."

"I didn't tell the others in case it's a set-up. What would you like to do, boss?"

Dutch thought, chin resting on his chest, as Javier waited patiently.

Eventually, Dutch lifted his head, his dark eyes hooded. "Can I trust you, Javier?"

Javier was shocked that he had to ask. "Of course."

"Because the last thing the family needs is to lose another valuable member, like yourself."

"I have no intention of leaving, Dutch," Javier stated firmly. "We run together, we die together."

Dutch smiled a little. "I wish Arthur still had a hint of your passion, Mr. Escuella."

"Arthur will be back," Javier insisted, hoping it to be true. "He's just...lost his way."

"And Charles?"

Javier hesitated. "I can't speak for Charles Smith as he hasn't been with us long, but Arthur has always been family."

"You sure those two won't convince you to leave too?"

"Dutch," Javier said earnestly, "not many men would come back for a caged man about to be executed. It was an impossible rescue, but you did it for me. I will never forget that until the day I die."

"Good." Dutch nodded, seeming satisfied with that response. He handed the letter back. "Why don't you mosey down to Saint Denis and investigate this."

"Alright."

"Don't dig too deep," he warned. "And don't get yourself caught."

"Of course, Dutch."

He made to turn when Dutch added, "Javier? Take one of the girls with you. It'll keep you less conspicuous and we'll be one less long face upset over the departure of Charlotte."

Not knowing much about the woman, but curious as to the venomous tone he'd taken on, Javier asked, "What's wrong with her?"

"She seeks to undermine me at every turn, even when she no longer graces our presence."

Arthur and Charles going off on their own had cut Dutch deep. Javier's heart hurt to see his leader so distressed and he didn't mean to add to it. "I will find out the meaning behind the letter, Dutch. You can count on me."

Dutch waved him off, retorting, "Take Miss Roberts, preferably. If you can manage to extract her poisoned talons out of John."

Javier didn't fully understand the sudden resentment towards Abigail, especially since it was John who had been growing disrespectful for months. John had always been rebellious, but for some reason, more and more he'd starting laying blame on Dutch and that wasn't fair.

Javier wandered over to the women gathered near the lake. Out of the women, he'd prefer to take Karen honestly. She had the most experience in case everything went to shit and she wasn't shy with a gun, but she hadn't returned with Strauss yet from her trip into Annesburg. Only Tilly and Abigail stood together by the water's edge.

"Good morning, ladies." He rested a boot on a nearby rock, leaned an arm on his knee and tilted his chin with a smoldering look. "Would one of you mind joining me for a quick job?"

"Where at?" Abigail asked while Tilly cut him a suspicious look.

"Saint Denis."

Tilly raised a brow at him. "You boys just broke John out of jail. You want to go back?"

"Dutch wants me down there to gather information."

"Are you out of your mind, Javier?" Abigail's hands moved to her hips. "You idiot men will keep getting yourselves into trouble until no one will be left to break you out."

He kept the smile on his face. "I have no intention of getting caught, miss."

That assertion only served to piss her off more. "And you think all them other boys did? John in Saint Denis? Josiah in Rhodes? Sean in Blackwater? Micah in Strawberry? Even Arthur and Lenny got themselves soused and arrested in Valentine. Everywhere we go, at least one of you has to get into some goddamn trouble."

"It's not that kind of job," Javier tried assure her, "This won't be any trouble—"

Abigail cut in, "Didn't I hear even you were taken while ya'll were in Guarma?"

Tilly sent him a look of concern. "Is that true?"

It was getting harder to hold a pleasant expression with Abigail's barrage. "That was different."

"Find someone else to get caught with," Abigail said with finality, turning from him. "Ain't none of us want to be jailed or killed."

Javier clenched his teeth to prevent the nasty retort his abuela would smack him over the head if she ever heard him say out loud to a woman. If he informed her this job may possibly be about Hosea, she'd curtail her sharp words, but right now, he couldn't say anything without snapping at her.

He spun on his heel. Dutch was right. Not only did Abigail have talons, she had a poisoned tongue too.

"Wait! Javier!"

He stopped as Tilly came up to him. "I'll come with you."

"Are you sure?" he questioned bitterly. "I wouldn't want you to be caught the moment we stepped foot in Saint Denis because of my idiot choices."

"Mr. Escuella," she teased, "it's not like you to let a women get under your skin."

Her humor caught him off guard enough for his temper to pause its rise.

She rested a hand on his arm and said warmly, "Don't let Abigail get in your head. She's been worried out of her mind for weeks over John. She ain't thinkin' about nothing else 'cept keepin' safe."

Her even tones had him simmering down completely. He admitted, "It's...been a rough few weeks, hasn't it?"

"You can say that again." She strode up to Boaz and turned to him. "Well, come on. We're wasting daylight."

Javier mounted up and pulled Tilly up behind him. On the way, Javier explained to Tilly about the letter and where they needed to go.

When he told her what his and Dutch's opinion on 'Old Boy', he felt her shrug at his back as she said, "I hope it's so, but I ain't holdin' my breath."

The ride to Saint Denis was just what he needed to clear his head and break from the looming gloom of the traveling gang. The open country was soothing and riding with a friend at his back enhanced the experience.

Sure, there were still patrols they had to maneuver around, but it seemed the bulk of them were searching north. Once he and Tilly reached the swamps again, they spotted no more hunters.

In Saint Denis, he couldn't easily determine who was watching them out of vague interest or secret malice as they trotted down the street. He'd have a better vantage point if they were mixed in with the other city dwellers.

He suggested, "Let's hitch up and walk from here."

"Where we headed?" Tilly asked as he lowered her to the ground.

He tied Boaz's lead to a post and nodded down the road. "Courtenay Street."

After a bit of walking and when he felt confident they weren't being followed in any capacity, he asked Tilly beside him, "So, how are you holding up?"

She glanced up at him. "Good, I guess."

"You guess?"

She looked forward and blew out a breath. "You ever want more, Javier?"

"More?" He frowned. "More money?"

She scrunched up her face. "No. More than what we got, I mean. Like a home, a steady job and a family. Normal things like that."

"We have all of that with Dutch."

"You ain't so thick-headed." She tilted her head. "You know what I mean."

"I would be dead several times over if not for him," Javier insisted, sidestepping a straight answer. "In Guarma, he came back for me when he didn't have to. I owe him my life."

"Dutch took me in too, Javier, but it doesn't mean I wanna be indebted to him my whole damn life. I don't think there's much left for me here."

Her confession left him disheartened. "How can you say that? Dutch is taking care of us now. If we get split up any more, we could all die out there."

"Javier, some day I want to get married and have kids and never live on the run ever again. I want to be a proper lady."

There was so much passion behind what she said that Javier studied her a moment. Tilly had dreams beyond the gang, but, to his ears, he heard the love she still had for them. She was just ready to move on.

So, instead of arguing or getting angry with her, his mouth twitched upward. He teased, "Ah, you too good for us, señorita?"

She shot back her own grin. "Always have been."

"Maybe you're right to leave, Tilly. But I choose to believe fortune is on the other side. Once we get on our feet, we'll be set for life."

"But when does the running stop?"

"It ends when Dutch gets us—"

"Hold on." Tilly clutched his arm, stopping him mid-sentence and mid-stride. She nodded ahead of them. "Check that man on the corner. I don't like the look of him."

Javier surveyed the stranger leaning against the brick building, a cigarette in hand. He could have been another city dweller, but his shoes were too clean and his shirt too pressed for this part of town. "Looks like Pinkerton scum to me."

"What do we do?"

"Let's take the alley." Javier grabbed her hand and swiftly led her down the nearest path. "We can come out on the other side and avoid him altogether."

When the alley spit them out the other side, Javier immediately stopped walking when he spotted the same Pinkerton. He had moved, striding their direction, but he hadn't seen them yet.

Javier pulled back, taking Tilly with him. He turned his back to the alley exit and maneuvered Tilly a few steps around the corner, flattening her against the wall so they wouldn't be easily spotted.

Javier waited to hear the Pinkerton's steps pass, concentrating. Nothing else was on his mind until he looked down at Tilly. They had a mission to accomplish, but the importance of it fled from his mind.

She lifted her lashes, met his gaze and he was struck. Un par de ojitos negros. And then it was suddenly clear the reason he'd never discovered Tilly's soft spot.

Tilly's weakness was intimacy itself. It was a position she would give no man unless she shared similar feelings. No wonder it had been impossible for him to discover as only a genuine lover would affect her.

Here, her dark eyes widening, her chest lifting, her soft lips parting as she stared up at him, Javier could be that lover. He finally had Tilly in a position of vulnerability, in the same way he could the other women. If he wanted, he could swoop down, take her mouth in his and she wouldn't be able to resist her rising desire for him.

"Cielito," he breathed, the word spilling from his mouth on its own as he lifted a finger to brush lightly across her cheek.

"Javier?" she said his name softly and the tremor in her voice clutched his heart and pulled it out.

Tilly trusted him and he knew if he acted on any temptation for her right now, he'd break that trust. Never before had he had a such a strong impulse to kiss a woman, but never was it more important that he not act upon it. Never before did he respect a woman enough to want to restrain himself.

Tilly cleared her throat. "Is-is he gone?"

Javier dropped his hand, shook off what he could of his lust and straightened up to focus on the task at hand. "Sí. Let's continue."

He broke from her fully and let her choose the distance she wanted to follow him. He pushed down all the hopping, confusing thoughts and followed the marker for Courtenay Street.

The building at 74 Courtenay was a perfume shop. Rose and Olivier Perfumes, read the sign above the little shop.

"This is the meeting spot?" Tilly voiced doubtfully, her first words since the alley.

Javier lifted his shoulders. "No way to find out unless we go in."

They entered the shop, a little bell ringing above the door. The rest of the store was less lively. The products appeared aged, bottles of different sizes filled with liquid lining the shelves and on display.

Tilly picked the nearest glass container, dusting it off and examining it with interest.

"Excuse me, sir?" Javier called to the aging man at the counter. "We are looking for a George?"

The elderly man lifted his head. He pointed a shaky finger out the window. "Newspaper boy...on the corner."

Javier and Tilly looked at each other. He tried again, "We were specifically told to ask for George in this shop."

The shop owner didn't say anything this time, only lifted his finger towards the outside a second time. Javier found it foolish, but he and Tilly left the store and crossed the street to speak with the boy on the corner.

Before they even reached him, the kid said, "You lookin' for George, mista?"

"He isn't you?"

He held his dirty hand palm up. "Fifty cents, mista."

Javier glared at him. "For what? What are we even doing here?"

Tilly prodded him. "Pay him, Javier. He might know where to find Hosea, remember?"

"Or it might be a trap."

Despite disagreeing, Javier pulled out two quarters and handed them over, remaining watchful of the street behind them. The boy moved one so there was a coin in each hand. He closed his fists and turned his wrists down. Next, the boy shook his hands before clamping them together.

Javier didn't understand the ritual and was more confused when the boy opened his palms and the coins had disappeared entirely.

"What the...?"

"Amazing!" Tilly clapped as if the boy had done a grand performance and the kid smiled, showing off the gap where his front teeth should have been.

Impatiently, Javier demanded, "Tell us what we came here for."

The boy scowled at him and his lack of appreciation, but he pointed silently down the alleyway next to the perfume shop.

"You ready?" Javier addressed Tilly. While he'd prefer to do this next part alone, he didn't want to leave her in case they needed to make a quick escape.

Tilly nodded. "Let's do this."

"Stay behind me." Javier drew his double-action revolver and they cautiously entered the alley.

He didn't like the close quarters of these buildings. An assailant could be waiting at any corner, ready to ambush them. His finger twitched, ready on the trigger and prepared for a trap.

Unusually, the alley was clear of loiterers, making the area eerily quiet compared to the city outside. They entered the shared space of the buildings when a man started talking. Javier stopped abruptly, lifting his gun as Tilly bumped into him.

"No need to wave that thing around," chuckled the man stepping out from behind a set of tall plants in front of them. "It's only me, dear boy."

Javier recognized that posh way of speaking anywhere, but it surprised him all the same. "Trelawny?"

"Javier," Trelawny tipped his hat to Tilly. "And Miss Jackson. Lovely to see the pair of you again."

"Josiah," Tilly acknowledged, her own surprise evident by her widened eyes. "What are you doin' here?"

"Yeah," Javier cast his gaze around, looking for anyone else, "you always do turn up at the most inconvenient times."

"On the contrary," he chortled again. "I am the one you're seeking."

Javier raised a skeptical brow. "You're Muldoon?"

Trelawny performed an obnoxious little bow. "In the flesh."

A hundred questions sprang to his mind. "Why did you want to meet here? What the hell did you mean in your—"

"All in good time," Trelawny cut in and glanced around. "A more private setting is required. Follow me, you two."

Instead of the street, Trelawny about-faced and moved further into the alley. Javier holstered his gun and the two of them followed.

Tilly questioned, "If this was all you, why did you want us to ask for a George at that perfume shop?"

"A precaution, in case the wrong sorts of fellows came calling."

"And the kid?" Javier asked.

"The distraction while Mr. Olivier took the time to inform me of your presence." Amusement had entered Trelawny's speech. "Tell me, did little Ralph sucker you out of some money while you waited?"

"He did some disappearing coin trick," Javier admitted.

Trelawny chuckled again, his spirits high. "Ah, yes. Innovative scamp, isn't he? I taught him that one. Soon, he'll be swindling all the locals out of their fair coin."

Trelawny made an abrupt left turn, leading them up a set of white stairs. He produced a key and unlocked a door at the top, which surprised Javier. Had Trelawny always had a safe house set aside here and never told them?

"Tea?" Trelawny offered as if this was an entirely normal situation.

Javier shook his head, but Tilly said, "I'll take some." She looked around the room as Javier made for the window, to watch if they'd been followed.

As she accepted her cup and settled into a cushioned seat, Tilly asked, "Have you been in Saint Denis this whole time?"

"Ah, yes. Unfortunately. I planned on being settled in New York by this time."

"Why ain't you there?"

"It's never a straight road, is it?"

"For you," Javier bit out, remembering how pissed at Trelawny he'd been after the man's half-assed plan on the riverboat, with their only means of escape a desperate swim to shore.

Trelawny went on, unperturbed, "I gravely underestimated the doggedness of these Pinkerton fellows. Quite the determined government lackeys, aren't they?"

Javier told him, "Dutch said you'd left the area to pursue another scheme."

"Did he?" Trelawny's eyebrow raised. "How very interesting."

"What happened to Molly?" asked Tilly unexpectedly.

"Molly?" Javier sent her a confused look. "She didn't leave with him."

"Actually, dear boy, Miss O'Shea and I did indeed embark from Shady Belle together."

Javier's brow furrowed deeper. That's not what Dutch had told all of them and he'd spoken with confidence. On the boat to Guarma, Dutch had hypothesized that when Molly had left them, she'd gone straight to the Pinkertons. She was the reason they'd been ambushed at the bank.

"I intended to accompany her to Saint Denis," Trelawny explained, "but our travels were scuppered by lawmen before we reached the city."

Javier put in, "You were recognized?"

"Not I, but it seems Miss O'Shea had been ambushed once before by Mr. Milton's team so they knew who to look for on the roads. We were taken into custody in Saint Denis."

"How did you get out?" questioned Tilly.

"I have—or had, rather—a confidante positioned in the city. She was able to use our poker ferry money to post my bail." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Alas, the situation has left me on very thin ice with her. My hope is she'll be cooled down by the time we reunite again."

Javier wondered who he was referring, but Tilly pushed on, "What about Miss O'Shea?"

"I fear Mr. Milton nabbed her out of jail before I could attempt any sort of rescue."

Javier said sharply, "How do you know it wasn't a set-up by Molly in the first place?"

Trelawny's gaze went to him. "I assure you she was taken quite unwillingly. Kicking and cursing up quite the Irish storm."

It didn't make sense to Javier. "Milton had her when we tried to rob the bank. What other reason would he have for keeping her if she hadn't ratted on us?"

Interest piqued in Trelawny's eyes. "Ah, the bank job. I've hardly been able to leave the house because of that escapade. Those agents haven't let up their patrol since you boys were chased off to sea."

"Oh, we've noticed alright," said Tilly dryly.

Trelawny eyed Javier. "It looks as though you've made it back in one piece. Perhaps it was worth the chase as I heard the take was substantial. Fifty thousand, was it?"

"Heard from who?" Javier demanded.

"I read, dear boy. The papers certainly focused on the worst of your misdeeds and they haven't granted you any favors blasting most of your names in connection to the robbery."

"Robbery," Javier spat. "Lying cabrones. There is no money."

"No money? Whatever do you mean?"

Tilly explained, "Arthur, Charlotte and Reverend Swanson withdrew it before the robbery went wrong, but the reverend has it and he's been missing."

"By Jove. Missing, you say? If I'd known that, I certainly would have sent out some feelers in the city." Trelawny rubbed his chin. "And who is this Charlotte you speak of?"

"Oh." Tilly responded, "I s'pose you left before she was feeling well enough to socialize. She's a friend of Arthur's. That's..." she glanced at Javier. "...a whole other issue."

"Arthur's friend, you say? Intriguing." His eyes glittered with excitement. "Yes, perhaps I did jump the gun to be missing all this drama."

Missing because he'd run off right before their most important job and their escape of these parts. Instead, Trelawny was living here, in this abandoned...Javier frowned. This house wasn't abandoned at all. Actually, it was well furnished, clean and tidy, as if it had been occupied only a short time ago.

"Whose house is this?" Javier asked abruptly.

"Ah." Trelawny couldn't meet their eyes. "You see...I..."

"You own this house, don't you?" Tilly said suddenly.

"Ah," Trelawny said again and cleared his throat. "Yes, actually. I do."

"So," Javier stared at him, disgusted at his selfishness. "you've been hiding like a coward in this hole while the rest of us barely escaped the law."

"An uncalled for and certainly unfair assessment," Trelawny argued, offended. "After all, had I not delayed my departure, I would have missed assisting Mr. Matthews with his narrow escape beneath my very balcony."

Tilly's next sip of tea was postponed as she stared at Trelawny. "You've seen Hosea?"

"Of course." Trelawny asserted without reservation. "Was that not clear in my note?"

Old Boy was Hosea.

Tilly sat up straighter. "But me and the other girls asked around."

"You certainly did," he replied in a scolding tone. "Mr. Matthews is one of the most recognizable faces for the Pinkertons and you lot kept reviving rumors of his survival in Saint Denis. You didn't make it easy to keep him hidden."

"Hidden?" Javier said this time.

Tilly's cup clanged against her saucer as she set it down sharply and stood, her eyes straying to the two closed doors across the room. "Hosea is here?"

"Didn't I say?" The man's brows drew together. "Why, yes, he is."

"Damn it, Trelawny," Javier groaned with exasperation. "You couldn't have said that in the first place?"

"I—"

"Where is he?" Tilly demanded.

"The childrens' bedroom on the left, but, Miss Jackson?"

Tilly paused and Trelawny approached her. Softly, he told her, "A word of warning, dear girl. He isn't at his best at the moment."

Tilly frowned, but crossed the threshold and her expression brightened as she exclaimed, "Hosea!"

When Javier entered the room, Tilly had her arms around the old man. Hosea sat up in a bed, his arm in a sling and the left side of his face marred with healing scratches. Hosea had always been slim, but seeing him in a bed, with some of that weight lost since Javier had last seen him weeks ago, the man had an obvious look of frailty to him now.

"It's good to see you, Hosea, but," Javier told him bluntly, "you don't look so good, amigo."

Hosea laughed hoarsely as Tilly released him. "Then the outside matches what I've been feeling in my bones these last few years."

Tilly perched on the bed. "What happened to you?"

"The last vestiges of youth have finally slipped away."

Tilly smacked him lightly on the arm. "I meant, during the bank situation, Mr. Matthews."

"A series of mishaps, as is the usual lately." He leaned against the headboard and told them, "John and I were standing by a few blocks away, ready to split the money when Arthur came back with it. That way, if anything went wrong, it wouldn't all get stuck in one place, like what happened in Blackwater."

Javier tried not to take offense to that. He didn't like when Hosea mentioned Blackwater because there was no mistaking who he felt was at fault by his tone.

Hosea coughed and attempted to clear his throat until Tilly reached over and handed him a glass of water from the table next to the bed.

Hosea nodded his thanks and continued, "Next thing we see is Pinkertons filling the streets and heading to the bank. I didn't know what alerted them at the time, but it didn't look good. I sent John ahead to help Arthur while I went to Guiteau Square."

At Javier and Tilly's confused expressions, Trelawny waved a hand in its general direction and explained, "Where they perform all those abominable hangings."

"Why there?" Javier asked.

"That's where Abigail and I hid most of the charges for the distraction we had originally planned for the bank robbery." Hosea swallowed some more water. "I lit the charges, but one of the fuses must have been much shorter than the others. Before I could get clear, one went off, exploding the others with it, sending me into a brick column." He rested a hand on the back of his head. "Still got the goose egg from the blow that knocked me out."

"You're lucky to be alive."

"You're not wrong, Miss Jackson," Hosea agreed. "When I woke again, I don't think much time had passed. Smoke was still coming off strong and I wasn't surrounded by law. I got to my feet, but the explosion had scared off Silver Dollar so I had no choice but to walk."

"Luckily," added Trelawny, "Mr. Matthews stumbled down the correct alley or I wouldn't have noticed him at all and who knows where the old boy would be?"

Hosea brushed off the concern. "What's done is done, but enough of my prattling. How's the rest of the family?"

"Besides the reverend missing, I'd say everyone's doing well. Only..." Tilly hesitated. "We're all a little separated right now."

"Why's that?"

As Tilly caught Hosea up with their end of things, Javier left the room, conflicted over everything he'd heard.

Dutch didn't make mistakes, not like this. Preventable mistakes that could have been avoided with a little more communication. Everything in him wanted to reject the possibility, but Javier was starting to understand John and Arthur's frustration directly following the siege at the bank. Pieces were fitting together for him over how everything went down, but Dutch had his reasons. Even Javier's own thoughts sounded desperate, but Dutch had no way of knowing the Pinkertons would be on them.

If Molly had ratted, everything would make more sense, but Trelawny seemed adamant in his belief she had nothing to do with it.

Trelawny joined him in the hallway, shutting the door behind him. "Javier," Trelawny intoned, low and serious. Like he was finally speaking in his normal voice for once. "There's something else."

His sudden somber manner had Javier paying close attention. "Yeah?"

"Dozens more Pinkertons are rumored to arrive by ship tonight. Mr. Milton is entirely serious in his pursuit. He means to destroy all of you."

Mierda. Javier declared, "I need to get back to camp and speak with Dutch about all of this."

"Indeed," Trelawny agreed. "However, there is one last matter I must burden you with. While stuck in Saint Denis, I've listened to the chatter where I could and have heard of a terrible development. I fear you have something even worse to mull over than the threat of our enemies."

He'd never met a man who talked so much with so little clarity. "What is it?"

"You were barking up the wrong tree earlier, but you were correct on one assumption, dear boy." Trelawny rubbed his chin and revealed grimly, "Someone in our party of scoundrels is a rat."