And now we get to meet Albert Mason! And Micah, I guess. Albert is better.

Also, I named Albert's horse after my dog. Though the horse behaves a little better than my food obsessed Labrador!

Chapter 4: Wolves

Arthur suppressed a groan as he guided Dakota over the river that was her namesake into West Elizabeth. He knew that he needed to keep a careful eye out for bounty hunters, both because of their proximity to Blackwater and the possibility of him being recognized for the massacre in Strawberry. He truly didn't know how Micah Bell could have survived out here with everyone looking for him. Maybe he did run off. Arthur wasn't about to complain if that were the case.

Still, Arthur had to put forth some effort into finding Micah, and decided to stop at Wallace Station first. Unlike many of the other train stations in the area, this one had a general store attached to it. Micah would need supplies eventually, and considering that Strawberry was off limits to him at the moment, Wallace Station would be the most obvious place to shop.

"Excuse me," he said to the store owner, who sighed as he turned towards Arthur. Great start.

"Yes?"

"You seen this man?" Arthur held up a bounty poster of Micah that had been hanging on the board outside. Arthur had noted, with a bit of glee, that only Micah's poster was there and not his own. "Rides a black horse with a white face."

"Yeah, I have actually. Not entirely sure where he is now, though. I think he came down off the mountains near Strawberry."

"Thank you," said Arthur, and he bought a few cans of food and some oatcakes for Dakota before heading back out the door.

As they trotted up the road, Arthur took a moment to admire Big Valley. He rather enjoyed the large, open fields covered in wildflowers and teeming with wildlife. Perhaps he could bring Hosea out here and they could try for another hunting trip, hopefully one that would be a little more tame than the thousand pound, angry monster from last time. Charles would probably like it, too. Maybe the two of them could go elk hunting here.

Ahead, hitched to a tree, was a familiar brown Morgan that gave Arthur a pause, wondering where he had seen it before. The sounds of a man talking aloud about lighting and wind reached his ears, and a smile spread across his face. Sure enough, as he crested the slight hill, there was Albert Mason, the hopeful wildlife photographer.

"Hello again!" Arthur called, immediately causing Albert to flinch.

"Oh, hello," the man said, gathering himself after his fright. "How are you, sir? Ah, Morgan, Mr. Morgan. That's right!"

"Arthur," the outlaw offered with a smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry… my nerves," Albert continued. "I'm not quite the outdoor adventurer I thought."

A few weeks ago, shortly after rescuing Sean from bounty hunters out near Blackwater, Arthur had stumbled across the photographer in a small clearing with a camera and a bag full of meat. He had been intrigued by the man, clearly out of his element and more used to high society, if the clean, green vest and straw hat were any indication. His suspicions were correct when Albert's meat-filled bag was promptly stolen by a hungry coyote, and Arthur immediately jumped to rescue the item from the creature's clutches. He decided to do so by not killing the animal, remembering Mason's speech about wanting to promote the conservation of animals, and simply fired a warning shot close to the coyote's paw. Frightened, the animal dropped the bag, allowing Arthur to easily return it. With his equipment in tact, Albert Mason decided to pack up for another day.

And normally, that would be it. Arthur often came across strangers in his travels, and while he thought of Mr. Mason as a fine man, he never expected to see him again. He drew the man leaning over his camera, gave a short description so that he would remember the encounter, and that was it. Arthur was quite busy, and a lot had happened to make him forget a little about Albert Mason.

Now, he had run into this stranger a second time. Albert had his camera pointed at a cluster of trees, and this time chose to dangle his meat from a tree instead of leaving it on the ground. Maybe he was learning.

Albert continued, "This is God's own country, and I feel I'm in purgatory."

Arthur recalled the last few weeks since Blackwater and replied, "I know the feeling."

"Oh, I hope not."

"What're you trying to take some pictures of? Some more greedy coyotes?" Arthur laughed.

"No, wolves!" Albert said proudly.

"Wolves?" Arthur asked, alarmed. He took in the large chunk of meat hanging from the tree nearby, and how close it was to Albert himself. "Well you really are trying to get yourself eaten!"

"Oh I hope not," Albert continued, checking his camera once more. "I left the meat over there."

Not far enough, Arthur thought.

"I thought I'd be safe, given the wind." Albert was still new to the wilderness.

"Yeah, sure. If you manage to attract the world's least intelligent wolf," Arthur said, suddenly realizing that he might have to save more than the photographer's bag this time. "I'll stay with you a while," he offered as Albert sputtered. "If anything comes, I'll protect you as needed."

"You are a gentleman."

"You don't know me very well," Arthur sighed, thinking about how protecting Mason would only delay his inevitable search for Micah for a little while.

"Well to me, you're a gentleman," Albert said, and Arthur allowed the slight smile to return his face. It was nice to run into strangers for a second time, especially ones as good as Albert. While he may be naive about the outdoors, his interest in nature was genuine. And, he was clearly determined. Truly, Arthur hadn't been sure that Albert would continue his photography project after his day with the coyotes.

"Trust me, I've been worse than the wolves," said Arthur.

"You've had many dealings with wolves, Mr. Morgan?" asked Albert.

"Sure."

"But you've never been eaten."

"Not through lack of trying on their part," he laughed. "A while back I helped a friend from getting devoured."

"Really? That sounds terrifying!"

"Yeah, he got lost in a snowstorm and got found by an angry pack of wolves. Lucky bastard got away with only a few scratches. Could've been a lot worse. Usually they are not great fans of man."

"Don't say I blame them."

"Me neither. Hey," Arthur said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Here's one."

Pulling out his shotgun, Arthur prepared for the worst should the wolf creeping through the trees notice them. For now, the predator seemed fixated on the meat dangling from the tree, but it wouldn't take the wolf long to figure out what it couldn't get to the meal.

"Yes, yes, there they are!" Albert said, excited but quiet. A few more pack members followed the first wolf. "Now, don't do anything. I'm going to take a few photographs."

A long howl sounded through the forest. Arthur saw Albert freeze slightly in the corner of his eye. Most people didn't get the close up experience of a howling wolf, usually only hearing them in the distance. It was louder than people expected. "Good boys, hungry boys. Come on," Albert muttered, waiting for the perfect moment to take the photograph. One of the wolves turned their way, and Arthur shifted nervously. "Stay back," Albert said. "Can't have a man in the frame, it will look staged."

"It sort of is," Arthur replied. Albert took his first photograph, but the flash caused the wolves to jump and notice them.

"Look at them, magnificent creatures!" Albert said in awe, completely unaware of the danger that was now circling around them. The pack moved towards them, barking and growling, trying to get the perceived threat to back down.

"Yeah, magnificent. Especially when clawing at your eyeballs." Arthur readied his weapon and made sure the extra shotgun shells were accessible.

Still, Albert remained determined to take his pictures. "Come on, stay still, my beauties," he said, even when multiple wolves stood their ground in front of him, ready to strike. Behind them, Arthur heard Dakota and Albert's horse whinny, and he wondered if their was another wolf behind them.

"Mason," he muttered in warning as the wolves stalked closer and closer, but then Albert set off the flash for another shot, sealing their fate.

"Oh my, they don't seem to be fans of modern technology," Albert got out right before the first wolf charged.

"Get behind me!" Arthur yelled, stepping between Albert and the three wolves he had just taken a picture of. His first shot landed accurately on the wolf's head, downing it immediately. The second wasn't so accurate, hitting the wolf in the back. Not clean, but that wolf wasn't getting up any time soon. But the third managed to sink its teeth into Arthur's right sleeve, and the shotgun slipped from his fingers when the pain had him loosen his grip.

"Mr. Morgan!" Albert cried, but Arthur pulled his knife from its sheath and stabbed the wolf in the neck. Mason was cowering by a thin tree, and Arthur turned to see a fourth wolf creeping up behind him. With no time to pick up and reload his shotgun, he pulled his revolver and fired three rounds in quick succession, and that wolf went down, too. The others, sensing their advantage lost, quickly disappeared back into the woods.

"You alright?" Arthur asked, eyes sweeping over the man to make sure he wasn't hurt before checking on himself. He winced at bite marks on his arm, though fortunately the coat had taken the brunt of the damage. He would have bruises but no scars.

"My whole futile existence flashed before my eyes," Albert exclaimed, and Arthur helped him stagger to his feet. A few feet away, the wolf Arthur had only injured began to whimper. With a sigh, Arthur walked over and pulled out his knife. "Sorry," he muttered, before ending the wolf's pain.

"What a way to go," Albert continued. "Literally, a dog's dinner. Still, worse things happen at sea."

"Do they?"

"Well, I imagine. Perhaps wolves do better at sea? Are they good swimmers? Well, who knows?" Albert continued to ramble as he packed up his camera and tripod. "You have saved my poor foolish skin once again."

"Don't mention it," Arthur said.

"Is your arm alright?"

"I'll be fine."

"Well, I can't begin to repay my debt of gratitude. But know, I am eternally in your debt."

"I do, Mr. Mason. I do. Take care now!" Arthur started to walk away, then he considered the now setting sun. "Where you heading after this, Mr. Mason? It's starting to get pretty late."

Albert glanced up at the sky and then sped up his packing. "I'm staying at the hotel in Blackwater. I should really get going if I'm going to arrive by nightfall!"

Oh. Blackwater. Arthur wondered if Albert had seen one of his bounty posters there. Probably not, considering the photographer let him hang around. Still, he rather liked Albert's company, and wasn't ready for it to end just yet. "I can ride with you as far as Riggs Station."

He helped pack the rest of the equipment on Albert's horse, then the two of them set off down the road. "So, how did you end up all the way out here from Blackwater. There are wolves all over these woods."

"Well, yes," Albert explained. "But I heard about a pack that was often seen near Wallace Station, and I figured it would be easiest."

"You certainly did find them!" Arthur said, earning a laugh from Albert. "How come you are staying in Blackwater?"

"Bit of a long story."

"We got time."

I come from New York originally," began Albert. "Was taking portraits of mostly rich folk, watched them dress up in their fancy outfits and trying different poses. Dreadfully boring work, I might say. Brought in decent money though. But I had this one regular customer who always went trophy hunting, and then would get the animals stuffed and wanted photographs with them. Went on and on about the places he had been to and the number of animals he had killed. I started to realize that if men like him had their way, soon there wouldn't be any animals left! So, I closed my shop and came out west. I picked Blackwater because I could get there by boat."

"Huh, makes sense."

"I don't like it very much, though. The place is crawling with lawmen because of a huge robbery and shootout that happened. They are always stopping and checking people and wagons to make sure none of the outlaws are trying to sneak back in for whatever reason. Getting in and out of town is a nightmare! And there's no train station, either. That's how I ended up buying Lucy," Albert said, patting the brown Morgan. "But I'll probably move on soon."

They continued to trot down the road for a while in silence before Albert asked, "Where are you from, Mr. Morgan?"

"I was born further out west, but I've been traveling around for so long that there isn't really a place to call home. This is actually the furthest east I've been in years," Arthur said.

"Do you travel alone or with family?"

"I'm with a bunch of folks that may as well be family at this point. I've been with them for years."

The lanterns of Riggs Station appeared in the distance, and Arthur realized that his pleasant day was likely about to come to an end. Back to the reality of looking for Micah Bell. They pulled their horses to a stop.

Albert glanced at Arthur and asked, a little awkwardly, "Where are you spending the night?"

"Oh, I figure I can find a pretty good camp spot around here." Though probably a little further into the mountains to avoid bounty hunters, not that he could explain that to Albert.

"Well, goodnight Mr. Morgan. And thank you again. You've not only saved my career, but this time also my life!"

"Take care, Mr. Mason. Maybe we will run into each other again." While it was about as unlikely as seeing the man a second time in Big Valley, Arthur held a little hope that it might occur. He set off into the hills, figuring he should get a good rest before beginning his search for Micah again. But he ended up staying awake for a little while, writing about his meeting with Albert in his journal.

The next morning, he rose early and tacked up Dakota, heading into the mountains. Not many people rode the paths in that area, and Arthur considered the places he might choose to hide out. A thin trail of smoke rose in the air within an outcropping of rocks, and Arthur wondered if this was the camp he was looking for.

Sure enough, he saw Micah's horse Baylock as soon as he rounded the corner, and soon the man himself appeared in his view.

"Hey Arthur, good to see you," Micah called from beside the campfire.

"Dutch wanted me to come out here and make sure you didn't need rescuing again."

Micah laughed. "No. But I got a plan to make that up to you."

Oh, this was going to be good. "A plan like the Blackwater ferry job, or like you going off scouting and ending up in jail?"

"Dutch said you was a big shadow cast by a tiny tree."

"I don't even know what that means," Arthur replied, but he understood that it was no compliment. He hoped it was just Micah trying to get under his skin, and not that Dutch was talking badly about him behind his back.

"I thought you was a tough boy," Micah continued. "Not one of those gentlemen, trying to protect his riding clothes."

"I just know that when things turn real you turn yellow, and lose your head."

"Yellow?"

"Yeah, that's what I said," Arthur laughed, staring directly at Micah's angry face. Maybe Dutch was a little swayed by Micah's yes-man attitude and ambition for wealth, but the rest of the gang knew the truth.

Micah swaggered over. "So I guess you won't be riding with me to rob the banking coach comes about this time into Strawberry? I heard one of the O'Driscoll boys yapping about it while I was inside."

Arthur sighed. "You and me? Do a robbery? What's your plan, shoot up the other half of town in the process?"

"You still mad about that? He had my guns, Morgan! Wasn't about to just leave that be!" Micah walked straight up to Arthur's face, trying to leer over him. Arthur grabbed Micah by the jacket and pushed him back.

"There are dozens of ways to get a pair of guns back that don't involve bloodshed and bounties. I know you are new to the gang, but surely Dutch has taught you something by now!"

"You robbing this stagecoach with me or not," Micah said in a low voice, leaning in and gritting his teeth.

"Dutch told me to bring you back to camp. He didn't say how," Arthur said, and he squared his shoulders. "You want to ride your own horse or should a tie you to mine?"

Unfortunately, Micah wasn't too keen on backing down. "I told you, I ain't going back to Dutch without a peace offering."

"Fine," Arthur said. He took a step back before turning for Dakota. "But I ain't working with you, Micah. Not after that stunt you pulled. I'll wait at the river crossing. You ain't there by dusk-"

"More money for me, then!" Micah brushed past Arthur on the way to Baylock and took off up the hill. Arthur rolled his eyes after him, and mounted Dakota. He figured he should head quickly towards the river, since the robbery was set to go off soon and he didn't want to listen to Micah complaining if he was late. As he approached the river crossing he passed a few men in the trees, wearing dark coats and green vests…

"Hey, ain't that one of Dutch's boys?" an O'Driscoll called out, and more emerged from the trees both on Arthur's side of the river and the New Hanover side.

"Shit!" Arthur yelled, spurring Dakota forward. Luck seemed to be on his side, as most of the men were on foot and didn't have horses readily available to chase him. Still, they were shooting at him, and he turned to fire back. A pained shout reached his ears, but soon one came from himself when a bullet clipped his side. Gripping the reins tighter, Arthur ducked his body low along Dakota's neck until they disappeared into the trees and the sound of gunshots faded away.

"Dammit," he muttered as he pulled Dakota to a stop and inspected his side. It really was just a scratch, but he was already imagining the shit he would get from Hosea and Susan when they found out. He supposed he could just take care of it himself, but he would have to take care not to draw attention to the injury. Otherwise, Hosea would be on him in a heartbeat.

For the moment, Arthur simply pressed on. Micah was probably finished taking over the stagecoach by now. Of course Micah would get information on a job that already had a gang working it, especially a ruthless and violent bunch like Colm's men. Part of Arthur really hoped that Micah had failed at the robbery just to knock the idiot down a notch or two, but unfortunately the first coach he saw had Micah sitting proudly on top.

"If you changed your mind, Morgan, you're too late," he said, gesturing to the coach below him.

"I didn't change my mind. Lucky for you I decided to warn you about an O'Driscoll ambush down that way. Seems they're pretty intent on robbing this coach, too."

"That so? Guess I'm lucky you still care."

"Well I don't want the camp to lose good money to O'Driscolls. We should open it up here and ditch the coach."

"Might be more than I can carry."

"I doubt it will take more than just our saddlebags. It's safer. O'Driscolls might wonder where the coach is soon and go out scouting."

"Fine." Micah walked around the back and shot the lock off, then pulled out a smaller lockbox. Fortunately, it was full of cash, and Micah immediately scooped it into his satchel.

"Remember," Arthur said, "the gang gets its share. And make sure you aren't followed!"

"Yeah, yeah." Micah went south, and Arthur went north towards Cumberland Falls. At Wallace Station he stopped to buy some bandages and whiskey to take care of the small wound, and breathed in the pleasant forest air. He was so close to where he saved Albert Mason from some wolves. He wondered if he could write to the man. Albert did say he was staying in a hotel in Blackwater, though he wasn't sure for how much longer.

Still, it never hurt to try, though Arthur wondered how he was going to explain Tacitus Kilgore to the photographer.