So, this week the leadership course I'm taking to get promoted decided to step up its assignments in an attempt to stress us out (like seriously, the instructor told us that that was the purpose of two presentations and a paper in a week). Really, it didn't make me stressed as much as it just made me annoyed because I didn't have time to work on this chapter throughout the week, and therefore had to write and edit on the same day to reach my goal of getting it out by Saturday. I might end up editing it again, but all the story points are what I planned in the outline, so I felt comfortable posting today.

Chapter 5: Investing for Beginners

With Micah Bell back at camp, Arthur was determined to spend as much time as he could out of it. That meant extended hunting trips in the woods, exploration, and of course, scouting for jobs. The day Arthur returned, John approached Arthur about a train full of rich folks coming down into Scarlett Meadows, which they could stop with an oil wagon. He also knew that Karen and Bill were looking into the potential gains of robbing the Valentine Bank, so long term finances investments were well underway. They still needed a steady flow of cash, however, so Arthur decided to make himself useful by hunting bounties for the local sheriff.

Sheriff Malloy struck Arthur as a reasonable individual. The day he sent Arthur after Benedict Allbright, Malloy said that you needed a sinner to catch another sinner, and as long as Arthur's bounty remained a mystery and the man himself didn't stir up trouble in town, they wouldn't have any problems. The man may have briefly locked Arthur and Lenny up for drunken behavior, but sent them on their way after they paid the fine. Though Arthur wasn't quite expecting to walk into the office to see Malloy sitting in his chair with another man standing over him, and his hand on the sheriff's crotch.

"Uh," Arthur began, and the pair jumped. "Excuse me," he continued, and backtracked out the door. He shook his head as he walked down the main street. Might as well come back later. He heard the door open behind him and Malloy call out, "Hey mister, wait up!"

Arthur turned and patiently waiting as the sheriff's eyes darted to the people nearby before settling back on Arthur. "Listen, about what you saw in there…"

"I didn't see nothing," Arthur said, holding up his hands. "I just wanted to know if you had any new bounty posters."

"If you tell anyone, I'll…" the sheriff may have been able to make a convincing threat if his hands and voice weren't shaking.

"Who would I tell, the sheriff?" Arthur tried to joke, but it didn't help the situation. "Listen, I won't tell nobody. Trust me, I know people don't like… groups of men."

"Oh, well, you better keep your mouth shut," Malloy said, pointing a still shaking finger at him. Arthur was about to walk away when Malloy said, "Oh, and there is a bounty. Ellie Anne Swan, likes to murder all her lovers. I'll get you her poster."

A long time ago, back when the gang was just starting out, Arthur had become interested in a man in the nearby town. He knew to be careful, but when he found out that the man, a ranch hand, was just as interested in him, some of that care had been thrown out the window. Eventually they were caught, and the ranch hand immediately try to claim that it hadn't been his idea, that Arthur had forced him into it. Arthur never found out if the lie worked or not, because he escaped to Boadicea and back to camp. He never told Dutch and Hosea why they had to pack up and leave so quickly, but he always suspected that Hosea knew.

After that, Arthur didn't try to pursue men, no matter how attracted he was to them. And he still liked the company of women, but what happened to Eliza and Isaac soured all relationships for him.

He leaned against the hitching post near the doctor's office, and saw a woman in a gray dress and shoulder length hair pulled back leave through the door. She was furiously wiping tears from her eyes, and it took Arthur a second to realize where he knew her from.

"Mrs. Downes?"

She looked up suddenly, clearing the last few tears from her face in order to compose herself. "Oh, it's you! Thomas and I never did get your name."

"Arthur Callahan. How's your husband?" He knew the answer already, but figured it was polite to ask.

"Not well. You helped us a lot, mister, but…" she trailed off.

"If you need money or medicine, I might even have a few health cures here." Something was connecting Arthur to the Downes family, and he wasn't sure what. Maybe they were the reminder of his choice, a way to redeem himself for the direction the gang had gone.

"No, it's not that. Thomas has tuberculosis. Doctor says there's nothing we can do except treat the symptoms. Of course Thomas doesn't want us spending money on him." She looked to the ground, hands clutching at the edges of her dress.

"I'm real sorry," Arthur offered. "You know, I have a friend who is good with local herbs and plants. Maybe he knows something around here that will help."

"You are very kind, Mr. Callahan. Thomas always says there are good people in this world. He used to run a charity, you know. Tried to raise money for folks that needed it."

Sheriff Malloy wandered over and stood off to the side, bounty poster in hand. "Here you are, sir. They say she's sleeping rough over by Cumberland Falls," he said after a moment, and Arthur tipped his hat at him, and then to Mrs. Downes. "Be safe, Mrs. Downes. I'll send a letter over to y'all if my friend has any advice."

"Thank you, sir."

As he walked away, he heard the sheriff begin to ask the same questions about Thomas Downes and the state of their family, and about how they knew his newest bounty hunter. Arthur mounted Dakota, and rode off towards Cumberland Falls.

It didn't take much searching to find the woman, sitting under a rocky outcrop with a man, having a conversation in low voices.

"Excuse me!" Arthur called out, ready to spin a tale in order to get close to the woman and her new man. But it didn't work.

"That there is a bounty hunter, get him!" Ellie Anne Swan cried out, pushing her suitor towards Arthur.

The man hesitated. "Listen, Ellie Anne, I'm gonna have to ask you to go with him."

Before Arthur could intervene, she said, "What kind of man are you?" She pulled a knife from her skirt pocket and stabbed the man once in the neck. He choked as he collapsed to the dirt.

"Shit!" Arthur said, pulling out his lasso. Ellie Anne ran towards him, but fortunately Arthur was faster. The rope landed around her shoulders and he had her down with a swift tug. "You are a piece of work," he said, sparing a quick glance towards her latest victim before picking her up and tossing her on the back of Dakota.

The entire ride back, she talked nonsense that Arthur ignored. Sheriff Malloy was sitting behind his desk, alone, when Arthur carried her inside and dropped her in a cell. Malloy placed the money on his desk and gave Arthur a polite nod, which he returned with a tip of his hat. No need to talk about what happened earlier that day.

The sun was setting low over the hills and trees, and Arthur still didn't want to go back to the camp just yet. The main saloon was unofficially off limits to him, so he found himself in the more run down establishment on the edge of town. He figured he deserved to drink with some of his earnings before he donated to the box, under Dutch's and Miss Grimshaw's watchful eyes. The other day, Miss Grimshaw had gotten onto him about putting a little less than usual in the box. So what if that day he had ten dollars to spare instead of the fifteen from the previous week? At least he was giving actual cash and not some feathers or a bat wing like others in camp! How they got away with giving so little and pretending to be good gang members was beyond him!

There were only two other men in the bar, a man slumped drunk over the counter and his better dressed partner trying to prod him into conversation. "Come on, sir, try to remember! What really happened at Sylvia's Saloon back in '76?"

The other man looked up briefly and grumbled, "Just a lot of bunk, Plato, it's just a lot of bunk."

"It's not bunk, Mr. Calloway, it's history."

"Ancient history, done and dusted. The dead got off lucky, the living gotta keep suffering." Well, there was something Arthur could drink to. The sober man kept trying to get answers out of Mr. Calloway, but nothing seemed to make sense. Arthur grabbed a stool and waved at the bartender. "Whiskey, please."

With the drunk man falling asleep on the bar, his friend sighed, leaning his head forward into his hands. "This isn't going very well," he muttered.

"Apparently not," Arthur agreed.

"This is Jim 'Boy' Calloway," the man said, gesturing to the drunk. "The Jim 'Boy' Calloway."

"Who?"

"The gunslinger," the man said, raising his eyebrows up over his glasses. "Fastest left-handed draw that ever drew breath. He once killed fourteen men in a fight at Lewsey Hollow." Jim 'Boy' Calloway's only response was a snore.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Arthur asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I reckon right now, kill him yourself."

The man's mouth dropped open, appalled. "I don't want to kill him. I want to deify him! He's a god. I'm trying to write his biography."

"And how's that going?"

"I think I'd prefer the duel," the author said, looking over his notes. "Either I'd kill him and be able to be Baltimore's finest ever gunslinger or he's kill me and I could be set free from ever having to speak to him again."

"Well, you're starting to understand something very important," said Arthur, clapping the man on the shoulder.

"What's that?"

"The joys of gunslinging. It's win-win. Freedom or glory."

The author's eyes seemed to brighten. "That's brilliant! I'm going to write that down, if I may?"

"Be my guest."

"Theodore Levin. What's your name?"

"I don't have a name."

"But you are a gunslinger?"

"Not really. I mean folks who need shooting, I try to shoot in the back. All that other stuff it's, well, bunk."

Levin persisted. "But you've fought duels?"

"Once upon a time, I may have." Arthur took the shot of whiskey, suddenly feeling like he might need it.

"And you ain't interested in fame?"

"I don't think so."

"Strange, but you like fortune?"

Arthur looked up. "I need money, sure."

"Okay," Levin said, reaching into his bag. "Then forgive me mister, if I seem a little desperate. I am a little desperate. This book, I've got to make a thing of it, and there's a whole list of gun fighters. Legends, every last one." He showed Arthur several photographs. "Emmet Granger, Flaco Hernandez, Billy Midnight, Black Belle."

"Never heard of 'em."

"Maybe you can go and speak to them. Ask 'em about Calloway. Any of 'em get uppity," he looked quickly to make sure Calloway and the bartender weren't listening and whispered, "shoot 'em. I can't believe I just said that but-"

"You want me to go and find some sad, deluded fools like him, ask if he was the greatest, and then if they get uppity, shoot 'em?"

"Does sound a lot worse than it did in my head."

"How much you paying?"

"Well, a lot. Half the proceeds of the book if you help me get it written."

Arthur honestly didn't know how much a book sold for, but based on the author's clothes, it might make a decent bit of money. "I'll see what I can do," he said.

"Ha!" the author said, clasping his hands together. "Oh, get photos!" he added, handing Arthur a small portable camera. It wasn't as fancy or large as Albert's camera, but it would likely do the job. "And there are notes on the back of those portraits that should lead you to 'em."

"I'll see what I can find out."

"I imagine we'll be stuck here upon your return. Here or some other flop house." Theodore Levin waved Arthur off as he left the saloon.

Before mounting Dakota, Arthur took a quick look at the locations on the back of the photographs. Only one was in the area. Two were down south, and one was back up in the mountains near Colter. He truly didn't know if it would be worth the effort.

Back in camp, half the men were drunk or on their way to it. Micah and Bill were playing poker, and based on their raised voices, they weren't having a civil conversation. Javier was playing guitar for Lenny, Sean, and John. Arthur slipped ten dollars into the donation box, pausing to look over the ledger. Amongst the list of almost inconsequential offerings, at least Javier had robbed a gold pocket watch from someone and Charles was bringing in game for Pearson's stew every other day.

"Have a good day?" Dutch asked, not even bothering to look up from his book.

"Not bad. Did some bounty hunting, but she wasn't worth too much."

"We need more money, Arthur. Now that you are feeling better, I expect you to be out doing your part."

"Sure, well I guess I can go get… a poor squirrel pelt or something," said Arthur, reading from the list. Really, Micah?

"Excuse me?"

"I do my part, Dutch. Maybe you should have a look at this ledger sometime and see who isn't pulling their weight."

That got Dutch to close his book. "And just what are you implying?"

"I'm just saying that some people in this camp need a reminder to get off their asses and work!"

"What has gotten into you, Arthur?"

Throwing his hands in the air, Arthur replied, "Maybe I'm tired of being reminded to get out and work when I'm the only one bringing in real money right now." Well, the only one was a slight exaggeration, but Arthur did consistently bring in more money than anyone else.

"I've about had it with your complaining!" Dutch shouted, standing up to face Arthur. A few heads around camp turned to look. Arthur held his ground. He didn't want to be cowed by Dutch's disappointment and anger any longer. Just a few weeks ago, Arthur probably would have immediately left camp to get a peace offering, but this time he was filled with a burning desire to prove to Dutch that he was right.

"Mr. Morgan, I put a letter for you on your table," Miss Grimshaw called over, which broke up the moment. Arthur held Dutch's eyes for another second before heading back towards his tent. Miss Grimshaw followed, and the others went back to their drinking and partying. "It's from that Mary. I never liked that girl!"

"I know," he said, quickly locating the envelope on the table. With a sigh, he slid it open and read the contents. It was an odd letter, reminiscent of the past and perhaps a little hopeful for the future. Mary Linton, previously Mary Gillis, was the girl that Arthur once hoped to marry. They dated back when the gang had just been Dutch, Susan, Hosea, and Bessie one winter after they settled near Chicago. When the gang needed to move on, he gave Mary a ring and asked her to come with him, but instead of saying yes, Mary asked Arthur to stay with her and leave the outlaw life behind. Neither would budge, and Arthur left Mary with the ring and kept moving west. Eventually, Mary married another, a man named Linton.

Oh, he would be a fool to go see her, but he knew that he would. He went to sleep with his head full of memories of his time with Mary Gillis, both good and bad, and wondering how it would be to meet her again.

The next morning, Arthur took his time shaving the stubble that was rapidly becoming a beard, combed his hard with a bit of pomade, and rode Dakota to Chadwick Farm. The woman who answered the door was not Mary, and she had a revolver pointed at Arthur's chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you ma'am. Is Mrs. Linton in?"

"I'll go see," she said, but the revolver remained steady as she closed the door. "Mrs. Linton, a caller for you," Arthur heard her say, muffled through the walls. The door opened again, and there was Mary. She wore a fancy turquoise top and a dark skirt, and her brown hair was pulled back to show off her silver earrings. Like always, she took Arthur's breath away.

"Hello, Arthur," she said, stepping onto the porch.

"Mary. I, uh…"

"I heard you and your friends was around."

"Okay," he said. He gestured to the house and asked, "Where's what's his name?"

"Died," she said, looking to the floor.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, me too. Happened a while ago. Pneumonia."

"Bad business."

"Sure."

A moment of silence passed, neither of them meeting each other's eyes. "So, uh, you've been made a widow, and you come here looking for me, is that it?" Arthur asked. Could that really be it? After all these years, he had given up on seeing Mary again. Eliza had happened because of Mary's marriage.

"No, it ain't like that, Arthur."

"Oh, okay." More awkward silence. Arthur glanced back at Dakota to make sure she was alright at the hitching post.

"I… my family…" Mary began. "I need your help."

Even after all this time, Arthur still felt a little resentment for the reasons why Mary hadn't joined him in the gang. "You mean the family that always looked down on me? You want me to help them?"

"It's my little brother, Jamie."

Arthur laughed. "I always liked Jamie, at least compared to the rest of them."

"He's broken daddy's heart."

"Daddy has a heart?" The man once hurled several liquor bottles at Arthur's head when he came over to collect Mary for a date.

"Don't make me beg you, Arthur."

"My money, my life, me… I wasn't good enough."

"I'm sorry. We need your help real bad. Little Jaime's joined the Chelonians, that strange religious order."

"Good for him," Arthur replied, not entirely sure what the Chelonians were. Frankly, he was glad that one member of the family made it our from under their father's thumb.

"They're quite mad, Arthur! They'll kill him! You're the only person he'd listen to." Back when they were dating, Arthur and Mary used to let young Jamie tag along on their outings, just to get him away from Mary's father. Arthur taught the young boy to ride a horse, shoot a gun, and many other things. But at the same time, Arthur was still upset, even angry, about how the meeting had turned out. Mary didn't want him, she just needed to use him for a time.

"So, I'm too rough to marry into your family, but it's okay to ask me to help in saving your family."

"I'm sorry," Mary said again. "I understand if you don't want to help me, but I think of you often."

No matter what Arthur hoped for the day, no matter how he thought it might turn out, he realized that it was over. "A long time ago now," he said.

"I'm begging you, Arthur."

"Okay. I can go check on Jamie. But I think you should be glad that Jamie is living Jamie's life, and not the nightmare that his daddy dreamed up for him."

"Jamie's so innocent, Arthur. They're out near Carmody Dell, I think. I just want him back. If you find him, please bring him to me at the station."

"I'll see what I can do. But it's Jamie's choice," Arthur said. He walked off the porch and grabbed Dakota's reins.

"I'll owe you," Mary said, leaning over the railing.

"You already owe me," Arthur said, mounting up. He pointed Dakota towards Cumberland Falls and spurred her forward.

Locating the Chelonians wasn't difficult, in the end. A local farmer kindly pointed him towards the flat peak of a mountain nearby, and Dakota easily cantered up the steep trail to the campsite. Near the cliff's edge, a group of men sat on a log surrounded by several torches. Each wore a shirt with a turtled sewn onto it. It had been several years, but Arthur spotted a younger man with short, light brown hair listening intently to what the preacher was saying.

"Gentleman!" Arthur called out.

Several members jumped, and they all flocked to the leader immediately. "Shell of safety," they muttered, and Arthur couldn't help but roll his eyes. Taking the whole turtle thing a little far, weren't they?

"Can I speak to the boy?" he said, gesturing towards the one he was pretty sure was Jaime. It was confirmed when the kid in question said, "Arthur?"

"Hello, son. Your sister is very worried."

The head priest or whatever he was stepped forward. "The boy has chosen a path, sir. The path to truth."

Arthur, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again, said, "Well, his sister just wants to speak with him."

"Arthur, I've chosen a path," said Jamie.

"The boy has chosen a path," the priest repeated. "He's chosen safety. What path have you chosen, sir?"

"I'm… still searching, I guess."

"We are all searching. Chelonianism is about searching! What do we search for, do you think?"

"I don't know, safety?" That was a word the priest had said, right? "Safety… and meaning?"

Apparently that was a good enough answer, because the priest nodded. "Jaime knows the truth. But of course, you can speak to him."

But Jaime wasn't as convinced. "I'm not coming with you, Arthur!" he said, running towards a horse.

"Just talk to your sister!" he called after Jamie, but it was too late. Jamie was spurring the horse down the hill, and Arthur quickly jumped on Dakota and galloped after him. Jaime led him on a chase down into the plains, and despite Arthur's best efforts, managed to stay ahead of him. He regretted teaching Jamie to ride so well. In the end, Jamie managed to get over the tracks just before a train rolled through.

"Please, Arthur," Jaime shouted over the roar of the engine. "I've found something, a calling."

"You're just a kid. Please, just talk to Mary, she's worried!"

"I'm not taking advice from you. You're an outlaw!" The caboose pulled away, revealing Jamie with a gun drawn. "I'm warning you, Arthur Morgan!" He pulled the trigger with the revolver raised over his head, causing his horse to run off. "Leave me alone!"

Arthur stayed on his side of the tracks, left hand raised towards Jaime. "Please, kid. Put that gun down."

"I'm warning you, Arthur. I… I… I don't want to live anymore!"

"Kid, just calm down!" Arthur's right hand moved slowly towards the handle of his own gun in it's holster.

"Leave me alone!" Jamie said, raising the gun to his head. Arthur had only a few seconds, but that was all he needed. He quickly drew his own revolver and carefully aimed before pulling the trigger. The bullet struck Jaime's gun, causing him to gasp and drop it in shock.

"Now calm down!" he said, crossing the tracks to Jaime. Once he picked up the gun, his tone softened. "Let's go see your sister," he said, and Jaime launched himself at Arthur and pulled him into a hug. "It's okay, kid," Arthur said, patting Jaime on the back before leading him over to a sweaty, panting Dakota.

On the ride back, Arthur tried to give life advice to Jaime, which mostly involved leaving his father and finding his own path in life. Ironically, that was exactly what Jamie had tried to do with the Chelonians, though Arthur reminded Jaime to keep a look out for scams and anyone asking for large donations. They arrived at the train station all too soon, and Mary leapt up to greet them.

"Jaime!" she cried, hugging the boy. "Come home! Please, Father's been very sad."

"Father wouldn't know sadness if it died in his bed," Jamie said, and Arthur had to smile at that. "But I'll come home, for you."

After both Jamie and Mary got settled on the train, Mary turned back. "Arthur," she started, and then sighed. "Oh, you'll never change. I know that."

Arthur thought about how he felt the last few weeks, how ever since he got sick from the strange liquid that his feelings about Dutch and the gang had been different. "No, you don't," he said.

She paused, holding a breath and looking hopefully, but then the train whistle blew, and he didn't move to stop her. She entered the car and took a seat, watching him as the train rolled away.

Oh, Mary. What fools they were.