"I dwell with a strangely aching heart

In that vanished abode there far apart"

― Robert Frost

"Don't you be leavin' till I get back." Cripps said as he pulled himself up onto the wagon, he had told me there was some important business that he had to attend to before I set off.

I was packing my saddle bags for another hunting trip, Cripps had fashioned me a leather drag bag to tie to the saddle, so that Aine could pull the bigger pelts behind her rather than bare the weight of them on her back. I was dubious as to how effective it would be, but Cripps was clearly trying to mend bridges. It had been a few days since I'd returned back from Arthur's camp and we had slowly fallen back into our normal routine. Cripps had stopped tiptoeing around me as if I were going to shoot at his feet.

I waved him off and watched as he disappeared into the forest, glad to have a moment to myself. I decided to bathe in the river, for what was perhaps the last time. We had both agreed it was time to move, and although we'd had no other visitors since the night of the ambush, we still found we were constantly looking over our shoulders. Cripps suggested we would sleep better if we knew no-one could find us. I hadn't found it in me to tell him that I'd promised our location to a band of outlaws.

It was my job to go and scout the new location, I had my eye on a beautiful opening by a cliff in the East Grizzlies. It was out of the way enough to not be stumbled upon but close enough to a town that we wouldn't be cut off completely.

I knew the area well; it was my home. I'd grown up in a little house in those hills, I'd buried my family in those hills. No matter how far away I had travelled, my heart had always remained in that moss covered home. I had only been back to see it a few times since the day I'd lost them, it seemed to have become a popular attraction for travellers and religious folk alike. The last time I visited someone had left a peculiar symbol above the door. Part of me wanted to put up a sign, tell people that this was no ritual site, no supernatural mystery. It was just a home that belonged to a family that deserved more than they got, and then it was left to rot without them.

I packed warm clothing despite the sunny weather, not wishing to make the same mistake twice, and got to crushing flowers together to make bait. I wanted to keep busy while Cripps was gone, otherwise he would insist on doing these things for me upon his return. He was not gone for long though; the sun had not even reached its high point in the sky before I heard the creaking wheels of the wagon coming from behind me. I turned to look at him, raising my hand to block out the sun, and noticed that he wasn't alone. There something sitting on the wagon with him, wriggling and clambering onto his lap. I saw him give the thing a light shove. Cripps had brought a dog.

"Who's this?" I asked, half running towards them as he pulled into camp. Cripps climbed down and called for the dog to follow.

"Young fella in Strawberry has been trying to get rid of him for weeks, said he would give to me for cheap in return for some leather." he said "I'm not keen on the damn things myself, but..." he trailed off, shrugging. I kneeled down to the dog's level and introduced myself, it took only a few moments before I was pinned to the ground.

"Jesus, he's not small!" I laugh, playfully swatting at the dog as he tried to lick my face.

"He's a wolfhound, Irish. Apparently, they get even bigger."

"Oh, you'll be as big as a bear!" I coo, sitting up to run my hand down his body. He sat next to me and stuck his enormous tongue out with glee "Does he have a name?"

"Rooster." Cripps says, I raise an eyebrow. "Howls at the ass-crack of dawn apparently."

"Oh, I'm sure that'll be fun." I reply, grinning at the thought of Cripps' alcohol fuelled comas being cut short.

"Yeah well, he's supposed to be good at chasing wolves. And other...intruders." he says, I watch as he shifts awkwardly, making his way over to the butchers table where he starts preparing meat for the stew. "Look, I ain't gonna make promises that I don't know I can keep. I know I let you down, but that bottle still has a hold on me. I want you to feel safe, thought maybe he could help with that."

I gave him a small smile, reminding myself that this is why I couldn't choose to go separate ways. He didn't just live in camp and work with me, he was camp. He was family.

"Thank you." I say, turning back to give Rooster one more pat before collecting my saddle bags.

Aine was desperate to get out and stretch her legs, we had remained close to camp since returning from Valentine, only going as far as the store in Wallace Station to collect stew essentials and ammunition. I was pretty desperate to get out as well, being cooped up near camp had done wonders to repair the strain on my relationship with Cripps, but I was beginning to feel a bit like a bird in a cage.

I'd always enjoyed the adventure of outdoor living, I wanted to go out there and smell the spring growth. I wanted to dip my feet in the pools of Cotorra Springs. I wanted to take shelter under a tree and listen to the rain hit the leaves, to ride across open fields with only Aine and the elk to keep me company. These were the little things that made life sweet.

It was the afternoon by the time I set off north, following the Dakota River. Aine was raring beneath me the whole way, begging for me to loosen the reins and let her run with the wind. I tried to steady her, to preserve her energy, but couldn't hold her back for long. Accepting the inevitable I held on with all my might and let her bolt. I couldn't deny the thrill, I could only imagine this is what the great eagles felt like as they dove between the mountains.

We made it to Cotorra Springs, where I had to fight to get Aine back into a more manageable pace before attempting a dismount. I led her over to a greener area and left her there, she always hated the Springs.

I checked and checked once more for signs of anyone passing through before stripping off and emerging myself into the corner of the largest pool, it was burning hot. There was no way I would be able to stay in for long, but the short burst of heat and comfort would be enough to set me up for a difficult hunt ahead. I had come with a plan; I wanted the predators this time. I wanted a bear. Thinking of the weight and warmth of the fur made me instantly overheated, I hopped out of the pool and pulled my clothes back on, the leather stuck against my wet legs.

We'd made it almost to Bacchus Station before the first pack of wolves descended, Aine held her ground defiantly as they swarmed around her. I grabbed my bow and aimed between their eyes, getting all but one down with a singular arrow each. The last one hobbled away, injured and desperate. I followed it until it collapsed, opting to put it out of its misery with a swift cut of my knife. I wondered for a moment if there were wolf pups waiting at the den for a family that would never return, and then shoved that thought to the back of my mind as I sliced the meat and fur from their bodies.

Hunting was filthy work, I routinely had to stop to wash my hands in bodies of water. Once the first arrow flew the work didn't stop until you got back to camp. Just the way I liked it. We slowly made our way down the side of Cumberland Forest, collecting a few whitetail deer along the way.

Eventually I decided to set up camp along the outskirts, the sun was long beyond the horizon and Aine was beginning to falter. It was a calming routine, gathering wood and kindling for a fire, removing her saddle and hiding the pelts under a sheet, laying out my canvass matt, sparking a flame. It was all second nature at this point. I cooked the meat that I had taken from the wolves and ate as much as I could, knowing that the real work began tomorrow. There were bears known to frequent Moonstone Pond, and I was going to find one.

It didn't take me long to find the prints the following day, bigger than I was expecting but not the biggest I'd ever seen. I grabbed my rifle from Aine and went on foot, following the trail slowly and silently. There were markings everywhere, broken sticks, tufts of fur, piles of shit. I wondered how the bear was ever able to sneak up on anything. Aine stayed behind to nibble on the grass, I wasn't worried, she was used to this. She would come when I called her as she always did.

I stepped out into the clearing, only a few paces stood between me and the water of Moonstone Pond and there was no further sign of the bear. I signed, about to admit defeat for the afternoon, when there was a snapping sound from behind me. I turned slowly, so as not to disturb the twigs beneath my feet, and saw my target. The bear was on its hind legs, back scratching against the tree, it looked as though it were dancing. I raised my rifle and took aim, steadying myself for the recoil. The bear spotted me in the last moments of its life, body twitching in response, but it was too late. I pulled the trigger, and down it went.

Took most of the afternoon to skin it and most of the rope I had on me to keep the pelt bundled together. By the time I was finished I was sure that the blood would never leave my hands, nor the smell. I washed what I could in the Pond before bundling the pelt into the leather drag bag that Cripps had made, it just about fit. I attached the bag to the saddle and set off once more, towards the spot that would hopefully become home.

The spot was at the base of a cliff, not far from the rail road. It didn't seem to bother Aine and it certainly didn't bother me. The more noise, the less likely we were to be visited by predators. I was painfully aware of the location, knowing full well that our constant display of meat and stew would attract everything that surrounded us. This was bear country, wolf country, cougar country. This place was dangerous, and yet it felt perfect. I set up camp for the night, the process beginning again.

The morning ride back towards Strawberry was slow, Aine carried the load of our takings as we strolled through along the cliffsides. I managed to get a few smaller pelts as we went, a couple of foxes, a couple of rabbits, a couple of skunks. It all added up, the sum greater than the parts that made it. I wanted to stop in the town before heading back to camp, I hoped to pick up some of the good prime beef from the butcher. I would tell Cripps that it was to celebrate, but it was really just to treat Rooster. I thought about him a lot as we marched on, I hoped that he was settling alright. I hoped that he hadn't been eaten by the wolves yet. Or by Cripps.

I don't know what I expected to find when I got there, perhaps tourists? Perhaps the locals walking the dirt roads between the buildings? Perhaps Farley smoking his pipe on the steps of the jail? I do know that I didn't expect to find...a town in a state of dismay. It looked like a storm had ripped through it, there were bullet holes on every building. Broken pallets lined the streets. There was a hole in the Jail wall. No butcher behind his table, no open sign in the window of the shop, no carriage waiting to overcharge people. I spotted Farley coming out of the house by the bridge and rode over to him quickly.

"Farley, what the hell is going on?" I ask, he looks up at me with tired eyes.

"Oh, hi Miss. It's all a mess, as you can see." he sighed, gesturing to the chaos around us. I signal for him to continue. "Jail break, shot up the whole town. Bastards went knocking on Skinny here, doesn't even look like they took anything."

I didn't know Skinny, but I'd seen him around. Admittedly he'd always seemed like someone I'd give a wide berth to. But to not take anything? It must have been revenge.

"Who did this?" I asked

"Here," Farley took a piece of paper and handed it over to me "if you find the sons of bitches, I'd sure be grateful..."

I unfolded the paper to reveal a bounty poster, the ink so fresh that it had smudged in his pocket. As I gazed upon the picture, my heart sank into my stomach.

Wanted, for the crime of Jailbreak and Murder. A drawing of a man I did not recognize, he had longer hair and a bushy moustache, but it was the drawing beside him that caught my attention. There was no doubt in my mind, it was Arthur.