"Home is the place where,

when you have to go there,

they have to take you in."

– Robert Frost

"Well? Take it." I waved the money at him; he shook his head.

"I can't take that."

"Yes, you can, I'm offering. You don't even have to shake me down!" I'm practically begging.

He rubbed the scar on his chin, I didn't know all that much about him and yet I was sure that he didn't actually want to visit Thomas Downes. I could tell this was a tempting out for him. He grunted and took the money from my hand, shoving some in his satchel and some back at me. He was trying not to look at it.

"I need a drink," he said, marching off towards the saloon, whistling for his horse "you comin'?"

I said I'd meet him there and made my way back to the wagon, poor Grogan's legs were shaking from exhaustion. I managed to coax him into the stable, where the owner berated me for overworking him and ushered him into a pen. I felt awful, he was an old boy now, perhaps it was time I trained Aine with the harness.

Arthur was stood at the bar as I entered, armed with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. I wanted to make a snide comment about him now having enough money to buy a bottle each, but I bit my tongue. I leaned on the bar next to him and watched him pour me a glass, it took about 5 seconds to down it.

"You know him? Mr. Downes?" Arthur asked, I winced at the liquor burn and nodded.

"Sorta, it's a small town. I lived near here for a while. I didn't have much of anything, but he was always good to me. He would give me food sometimes. Never asked for anything back." I explained. I didn't really know him, and it had been a very long time since I'd had any interaction with him, but I remember his kindness. I remembered it more than most other encounters I'd had in those years.

"You said he's sick?"

"Deathly. I ain't asked, but he doesn't seem long for this world. His poor wife." I say, I couldn't remember her name but I could picture her face. They were a textbook god-fearing family, admittedly annoying at times, but good people. I hadn't met many people that I could say that about with confidence.

"Mmm," he grunted, as he always seemed to do, and took another swig of his drink. "You know he ain't the only bastard that owes us money, right?"

"Yeah...well...one at a time." I chuckle, pointing to the bottle. He smirked and poured me another glass.

A rowdy group of men entered the saloon, cheering and hanging onto each other's shoulders. Arthur and I share a glance and silently decide to move to a table near the back, where they couldn't speak to us. Arthur pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to me, I sparked the match on my boot and thanked him. It was a comfortable gesture; he had begun to feel like an old friend. I guess I had been more desperate for someone to talk to than I thought I was.

Desperate enough to hand over a great deal of money just to avoid confronting who they really were.

"So, money lending is keeping you fed. Any other sins? You out there robbin' trains as well?" I ask, only half joking. Arthur frowns and takes a drag from his cigarette, but I notice a small glint in his eyes.

"Would you laugh if I said yes?" he asked, I did laugh.

"Ain't that a bit outdated?"

"I think the whole way of living's a bit outdated." he said, blowing the smoke from his nose with a sarcastic cackle.

"So, you guys are like the hole in the wall gang? Gunslingin' and runnin' wild?" I say through a grin, with an empty stomach the whiskey was going straight to my head. He smiled and nodded; my face fell. "No way...are you with-"

"I ain't with the hole in the wall gang, listen to yourself!" he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Now stop askin' questions."

"Sure thing, Sundance." I joked, managing to get a genuine laugh out of him.

I finished most of the bottle myself, finding that my face hurt less the more I drank. It was the first time I'd felt relaxed since the ambush at camp, which was ironic considering the company I was keeping. Arthur had to catch me by the elbow a few times as I rocked back in my chair, howling at my own jokes. I couldn't handle my drink on a good day and a full stomach, let alone my current sorry state. To say I was drunk would have been an understatement. With an empty bottle between us, Arthur helped me stand up from the table and hooked my arm around his shoulder, he had to squat for me to reach, which I thought was hilarious. He dragged me out of the saloon and across the street to the hotel.

"No room." the clerk said as soon as Arthur hauled me through the door. Arthur groaned and slammed a coin down on the desk.

"Make room." he growled "look at her, she's not going anywhere."

"I'm afraid we are full, Sir. You'll have to find other lodging." the clerk persisted, pushing the coin back towards Arthur.

"Well, ain't this a pickle!" I slurred, delirious. I wobbled and took a step back to balance, perhaps a step too far, as the next thing I knew the wind was blowing past my head like a hurricane.

It was summer, the perfect time of year for gardening. I was on my knees, arms covered in soil, plucking the fresh herbs I had planted a few summers ago with my mother. Oregano, chives, basil. All blooming. My basket was nearly full from where I'd pulled a few tomatoes from the ground earlier. I looked over at my brother, who had been tasked with chopping wood for the fire. There was always a spark of envy when we were sent out for chores, he always got the fun tasks. Hunting, chopping, collecting deliveries from town. My Mother said I was still too young for such tasks, and sent me out to gather ingredients for dinner.

"Haven't we got enough?" I whined as Johnathan placed another log on the chopping stub. He wiped away the thick layer of sweat that had been forming on his forehead.

"Don't be jealous, Nora." he said, grinning. Both he and my father had giant, goofy smiles that they would never grow into.

"It's not fair! You're only three years older, why do I always get told to dig for food while you get to wield an axe..."

"You know," he started, before swinging the axe above his head and bringing it down in one swift motion, splitting the log instantly. "When you were very small, I used to do the digging and Pa would chop the wood. And then I got older, and he trusted me more. Just wait, soon we will be sharing the load and you'll be wishing you could just pick herbs instead."

I smiled despite my best efforts to remain annoyed. I knew he was right, my father had already begun to teach me how to use a bow, although I hadn't actually gotten to shoot any arrows yet. I wouldn't be stuck digging forever.

"Come here," Johnathan called, waving me over. I dropped my basket and ran to him, eager. He handed me the axe, placing my hands on it carefully. One at the base, one further down. "I'll let you try it."

He grabbed a log from the pile and placed it carefully, my excitement was bubbling like a stew pot.

"Be careful! Don't rush it, and make sure you keep your legs apart!" he added, before ducking out of the way. I grinned like a maniac and swung the axe above my head, bringing it down with as much force as my little arms could muster. It hit the log, it didn't go through, but It was enough to satisfy me.

I dropped the axe and spun to face Johnathan, who raised his eyebrows and gave me a thumbs up.

"Not bad!" he said. "Don't tell Ma."

I woke up in a strange bed, next to a strange wagon, and a strange picture, I squinted at it to focus. It looked like Arthur, except much younger and with two older men. I sat up quickly, beginning to panic.

"You should really stick with water next time." Arthur's voice came from the foot of the bed, startling me. I looked up to find him standing with his hands on his hips, watching me.

"Why does my head feel like it's gonna explode?" I mumble, bringing my knees up to my chest and hugging them. It was like the back of my skull was caving in. Arthur laughed and perched on the end of the bed.

"Well, it might be the hangover, or it could be the swan dive you took in the hotel. I'm guessing it's both."

"Oh god." I grimace, remembering the sensation of falling. "Where am I?"

"Camp, my camp. Wasn't sure where else to take you." he said nervously, my eyes widened. His camp... where the outlaws hid.

A place I absolutely was not supposed to be.

"You gonna blindfold me to get me outta here?" I ask, Arthur shakes his head.

"Not much point, once you look around it won't be hard to find us again. We'll see what Dutch has to say." he said, shrugging.

"Who's Dutch?" I ask, pulling back the blanket.

"That'll be me." another, more melodic voice came from my left. I looked over to see a figure walking towards us, as my vision cleared, I was met with the face of a man who could mean nothing but business.

"I'm afraid your presence has caused a bit of a stir. As dear Arthur here has apparently already told you, we ain't open for visitors." I couldn't help but catch the look he gave Arthur as he said his name, it even made me want to cower. I could tell from the power of his voice alone; this was the man in charge. I hold my hands up in surrender.

"I never intended to visit, and I'm real sorry for any trouble. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I get my baring's." I say, standing to gather my belongings. Dutch raised a hand to stop me, I sat back down like a scorned child.

"It's your baring's that concern me Miss..."

"Kennedy." I offer quickly

"Miss Kennedy. You see, I don't know you. I don't know that you won't head straight to the nearest jail and disclose the details of our whereabouts. I've been informed that you are aware of the price on our heads?" he asked, his voice was like an orchestra. It was difficult to respond to.

"I don't know the price, but I know there is one. If I wanted to sell you out, I would have done it already. I can promise you I have no intention." I say, trying to sound less intimidated than I felt.

"But you are a bounty hunter, yes?" he asked

"No more than he is." I reply, tilting my head towards Arthur.

"And your business with Arthur is...what exactly?"

"Purely professional." I say, his eyes narrow. I'm suddenly reminded of the circumstances under which I find myself in this situation. "If not...occasionally...mildly recreational."

Dutch leans back on his heels, his arms remained crossed as he looked down upon me with stoic curiosity. Arthur finally stands, ushering Dutch a few paces away and speaking in hushed tones. Not hushed enough.

"I know I messed up here, but for whatever reason I'm asking you to trust me." Arthur pleads, Dutch throws his hands into the air in exasperation.

"How can I trust what you yourself say there is no reason for?"

"She's a good shot, she's an experienced hunter, and she hasn't sold us to the law. We could use someone like her around, you know that!" he replied, tone rising.

"This is not the time for more liability, my boy. She is either with us, or she is against us."

"With all due respect," I interrupt, walking over to join them "and it is clear that much respect is due. I'm neither. If being 'with you' means staying in this camp, getting swept up in whatever mess it is that you are in... then I decline. But I'm certainly not against you. I don't want to rob; I don't want to steal. But I can offer work when I have it and help if you need it."

"And in return?" Dutch asked. I had wondered this myself, seeming to only ever draw a blank. I shrugged.

"I get wagon escorts and you get paid. I ain't asking for anything else." I say, settling on the only answer I could think of, regardless of if it was the truth or not.

"Excuse us." Dutch said, grabbing Arthur by the arm and dragging him into a tent that sat central to the camp.

Their exit gave me a moment to take in the rest of my surroundings, and the multiple faces that were looking my way. Men and women of all ages and cultures, there was even a child. This was not like any gang I'd heard of before. I recognized Lenny, who was looking much healthier than the last time I'd seen him. I waved shyly as he made his way over.

"Miss! I am glad to see you again." he said, extending out his hand, I took it gently.

"Hey, Lenny. You look better." I say, he laughed and raised his brow at my comment.

"I cannot say the same for you. Looks like the boots on the other foot now. Although you must have had a more eventful night...judgin' by the shiner." he said, pointing to my eye. I'd almost forgotten the state of my face.

"Something like that." I said dryly, looking back towards the tent where Arthur and Dutch remained.

"Don't worry about Dutch," Lenny said, noticing my distraction. "He's just concerned. We all are. Times is... well, they've been hard."

I bite my lip and nod, all I wanted to do was get back to my own camp. I thought about the last word's I'd said to Cripps before I left, it wouldn't surprise me if he was gone by the time I got there. Perhaps he thought something similar of me, that I'd taken off. Although he must know I'd never leave Aine.

They finally emerged from the tent and walked back over to me, both of them looking a little more worn than they did before they had entered. This time there was another man with them, more slender and much older. It suddenly twigged that they were the two men in the photograph with Arthur, although a few years had clearly passed.

"Miss Kennedy, this is Hosea Matthews." Dutch introduced me, I held out my hand for Hosea to shake, which he did with vigour. I liked him immediately.

"Pleasure," he said, I bowed my head in thanks. "Apologies for the theatrics, as you may notice, we are all a bit on edge as of late."

"Yeah, I can see that." I say, looking around once more at our spectators.

"Arthur here seems to think you are trustworthy, and I won't be the one to second guess his judgement." he said with a smile, I looked over at Arthur, he seemed a lot more at ease in Hosea's presence.

"I appreciate it." I say

"You are of course free to go, however...should we need to contact you, it seems only fair that we know where to find you, as you know for us." he said, his smile was warm but the undertone was clear.

We need to know where to look for you If you talk.

"I'm currently just north of Strawberry, I can collect any letters you address to me from the town." I say, before remembering the events that transpired only a few nights ago "There is a possibility I may be relocating, but I will provide you with a new correspondence address if I do."

It was all so formal, I guess it had to be this way. This was quite literally a life-or-death situation for us all. Hosea smiled and turned to Dutch, who nodded slowly. The required approval.

"In that case, Arthur, would you be so kind as to escort our new friend back to Valentine?" Hosea asked, Arthur shoved his hat on his head and started walking towards the horses. I said a quick thanks to the two men before scurrying after him.

He mounted up onto his horse, and held out his hand for me. I took it quickly as he hoisted me up. There was no hanging around, no goodbyes, he spurred the horse on and we set off towards town. I gripped the back of his jacket, trying to stay on. It had been a long time since I'd been on the back of a horse.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to end up having to look after me." I say, wanting to break the silence.

"I'm sorry for how uncomfortable that was. Dutch is...well, he's not been himself lately. But he's a good man." he says, I figure he is telling himself this as much as he is telling me.

It doesn't take us long to get to Valentine, they really were close by. Arthur waits for me while I collect Grogan and the wagon, and ensures that I get out of the mud without issue. I say goodbye, unsure of the next time I'll see him, although going by Hosea's words I didn't imagine it would be long. Arthur hesitates for a moment, looking conflicted.

"Look, your friend at camp. The way I see it you got two choices. Either you can forgive him, in which case you should do so quickly, for the sake of you both. Or you cannot forgive him, in which case you should do so quickly, so that you can leave." he says, pulling out a peppermint from his bag and feeding it to Grogan. Before I had time to consider what he said, he tipped his hat to me and set off back the way he had come.

The ride back to camp was slow, Grogan pulled the wagon around trees and over bridges, it made me miss Aine even more. Her speed and stamina unmatched by any other horse I'd had. I was nervous to get back and see Cripps, if he was still there. I was nervous to speak to him after what I had said.

And yet when I got back, there he was. Sat on the end of his butchers table, harmonica in mouth. The stew was on the boil as it always was, there were pelts soaking in tanning fluid as there always was, and a bottle of rum was open on the side as it would always be. Wordlessly, I hopped down from the wagon and got to work on Grogan's harness. He stretched his neck and wondered over to roll in the grass upon being relieved from his equipment. I wondered over to the hitching posts and stuck my face in Aine's mane, telling her I missed her. After everything was unpacked and back to normal, I sat down by the fire where Cripps had relocated. I pulled out a packet of cigarettes and thought about what Arthur said. Could I really not forgive him? Could I really send him away? Or leave him here by himself? Was the damage unrepairable? Could I go back to the loneliness I had dwelled in before I'd met him?

No, I decided, that wasn't the choice I could live with. I smiled to myself for a moment, before offering him the packet.