I am a little off schedule right now, so this chapter is coming to you a day late. The outline for this chapter was also way longer than I decided to post! I decided instead of trying to rush through writing one giant chapter, I could break it into two slightly smaller ones. I might take an extra week for the next chapter though, just to get my head and plan back together. Work has become chaos yet again, so writing has been a little difficult.

Chapter 9: Friendly Meetings

Soon after Hosea and Charles left, Arthur opened the letter he got from Albert Mason.

Dear Arthur,

I want to thank you for helping me, again! Enclosed are the two photographs from our trip in the Heartlands. They came out beautifully. I do hope that your new horse is treating you well, since he looks rather determined to toss you in the picture. I am going to be in Valentine on Saturday the 10th, and would like to invite you to join me. I hope you get this letter in time, as I would very much like to see you again.

Albert Mason

Arthur wasn't exactly sure what day it was, but maybe he could still make it! He tilted the envelope and two photographs slid out, the first being a majestic shot of the horse herd galloping across the Heartlands. The second was of Merlin, eyes wide and wild, caught midway through a powerful buck in a desperate attempt to knock Arthur off his back. Arthur admired the two pictures, and tucked them into his journal.

Well, if he had any hope of making it in time, he better leave soon. He packed his various things that were scattered around the Loft. The cabin started to look like a home after several days, but unfortunately Arthur knew that another traveler could move in while he was gone. This time, Arthur saddled Dakota, figuring the young stallion deserved a break. They moved slow. The Arabian, while starting to gain a healthy weight, was still a little weak. She obediently trotted along after them, finally completely comfortable with their tiny group.

Late in the evening, they wandered into Valentine. Arthur got his three horses stalls at the stable, taking a moment to ask the owner if he knew anyone who might own the Arabian. He didn't. But he did know the date, and it was only the 9th! Arthur got a haircut from the barber at the saloon, since his hair and beard were both getting very long, and started heading towards the hotel in order to get a room for a few nights.

But as he was walking out of the saloon, he noticed some familiar faces! Karen, Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Mrs. Adler were leaving the general store with a load of supplies. He froze, unsure if he should talk to them. But then Karen's eyes met his and brightened, and she shouted and waved. Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen took off in a run, the hems of their skirts trailing carelessly through the muddy streets, and launched themselves at Arthur.

"We missed you so much!" Mary-Beth said.

"You coming back? It isn't the same without you around," said Tilly.

Arthur returned their hugs. "Alright, alright, settle down. Let's find some place to sit down and have a chat. How are you, Mrs. Adler?" he said, and got a gruff, "Fine," in return.

Karen, leading the way to a corner table in the saloon, said, "It's about time we saw you! Ain't too many boys around camp I like."

"You seem to like Sean well enough," Arthur chucked, pointing to Sean's jacket hanging off Karen's shoulders.

"Yeah, what of it? We ain't talking about me right now."

"Yeah, Arthur," Mary-Beth piped in. "What happened? Where have you been?"

"Been all over the Grizzlies. Even went back up near Colter. Found a beautiful horse up in the snow. You'd like her, Mary-Beth, she's the sweetest little thing. Haven't ridden her yet, though."

The bartender dropped off five beers at the table, and they began to drink in silence. Arthur knew that all the girls had questions, but it might be possible that the normally confident Karen, fearless Tilly, and curious Mary-Beth might be afraid of his answers.

Though, he was mildly impressed with how quickly Mrs. Adler chugged her own bottle.

"How's camp?" he asked carefully.

"It's been hard," Mary-Beth said. "The camp is split in two. Some people understand why you left. Others…"

"Dutch gives a speech about loyalty at least once a night. Like we are the disloyal ones, after what he did," Karen scoffed. "Most of us are getting tired of it, but people like Bill and Micah just lap it up."

"Are you alright, Arthur?" Tilly asked, reaching out to take his hands and inspect them.

"I'm fine, sweetheart."

"So, are you coming back?" Karen insisted.

"No, not yet."

The girls nodded, much more understanding than Arthur expect John would be later.

"We've had rough patches, sure," said Tilly. "But this feels different, this time."

"Hosea said he saw you, but wouldn't say where you were. Dutch was furious. But Hosea… he's been talking with people. Asking them if there's anything else we wanted to do with our lives. I told him about wanting to be a writer, and he thinks I should do it. Kind of implied that I should leave the gang," Mary-Beth said.

"He say this to all of you?" Arthur asked.

"He said it to me," Tilly said. "But… well… you remember my old gang, the Foreman Brothers? I saw Anthony Foreman in town a few weeks ago. I just don't think it would be good idea to be on my own right now."

"I understand. Karen? What about you?"

"He talked to me, but I don't know. I've been a thief so long. It's all I know. Don't want to be anything else."

They finished their drinks with the girls sharing the latest stories from camp. The highlight seemed to be that Uncle had mooned Swanson one morning before robbing a stagecoach in only his union suit, much to the chagrin of Charles and Lenny, who had gone with him. Even Mrs. Adler was smiling at that, which prompted Arthur to ask, "And what about you? You stickin' around with this bunch of fools?"

"For now. I don't have anywhere to go, either. My husband… we lived alone up in those mountains for a reason. Not a whole lot of friends or family."

"She's been helping Mr. Pearson. Food's improved a little, but I'm worried she might kill him," Tilly said.

"Food would be better if he gave me something to do that wasn't just chopping vegetables. I'd rather be out hunting," said Mrs. Adler.

"Talk to Hosea, then," Arthur suggested. "If you prove you can handle a rifle, I'm sure he'll let you take on different chores."

It was still early, but rays of light were sliding across the saloon floor, and the girls realized just how late. "We should get back," Mary-Beth said. "Don't want them to send a search party out for us."

Tilly turned back as the others went for the wagon and asked, "Is this it, Arthur? Have you left for good?"

"I don't know. I won't lie, it's been difficult since Blackwater. I was going to stay away longer, but Hosea tracked me down and asked me to swing by town. I'm not ready to talk to Dutch, though. Don't tell him I'm here. You can tell Hosea, discreetly, but not Dutch."

"Alright, Arthur. I understand." Tilly jumped into the wagon, and they left for Horseshoe Overlook.

Arthur woke the next morning to find the sky attempting to drown the residents of Valentine.

The already muddy street looked like a river, with the few idiots and unfortunate horses sinking deep and almost swallowed up. Arthur watched through the window on the first floor, eating an actually hot breakfast that wasn't a piece of meat roasted over a fire. Any plans of working with his new horse were ruined. He couldn't even imagine what the still unnamed Arabian would look like if he tried to ride her today.

Merlin, on the other hand, was probably giving the stable hands a rough time. The stallion did not take kindly to being shoved in a box, albeit a warm, dry, roomy box with plenty of food. Arthur, after finishing his food, braved the weather the check on his animals. Merlin shifted around and circled the stall, anxious to get out and run. Maybe if the weather let up a little later, Arthur would be able to get him some exercise. Dakota and the Arabian were both calm and happy, though. Arthur brushed them both and laughed when the Arabian began to shove her small head in his pockets for peppermints. "Greedy girl," Arthur said, fondly scolding her but making no effort to stop her. "You are a little princess, aren't you? You need a name. How about Zenobia? She was a queen who fought the Romans." Arthur vaguely recalled the story from Dutch's books, since the man liked reading about ancient Rome. "What do you think?" The Arabian bobbed her head and flicked her tail. "I'll take that as a yes," Arthur laughed, finally retrieving the peppermint for her.

Just then, the stable door opened, bringing with it the howling wind and rain. A man and a brown Morgan, both soaked to the skin and hunched over against the weather, trudged inside. At first he ignored them, but the man removed his straw boater hat and straightened up, revealing his dark beard and soft brown eyes.

"Mr. Morgan," Albert Mason said. "I'm so glad to see you! Good gracious, it is really coming down out there. All this from just walking from the train station."

"Mr. Mason! How are you?" Arthur said.

"Quite well, except for the weather. I was going to try to get some pictures of eagles, but that certainly isn't happening today. And yourself?"

"Good, I guess. Been traveling around the Grizzlies. My friend dropped off your letter, by the way. Those photographs are quite something!"

"Oh, my letter reached you? I was worried you wouldn't get it in time."

Lucy the Morgan chose that moment to shake off the excess rain. Albert tried to quickly dive out of the way, but ended up with a face full of water. Laughing, Arthur grabbed Lucy's reins and stroked her forehead. "Let me help put her away," he offered. A stable hand let him borrow a some towels to dry her off and a blanket, and soon Lucy was settled into a stall next to Zenobia.

"Where did you get the Arabian?" Albert asked.

"Found her running wild up in the snow. Poor thing probably got lost up there and didn't know what to do. She's getting better, though."

"That must be a story!" The two men ducked under the coats and made a run for the hotel. Arthur waited downstairs while Albert got a room and changed. When he rejoined the outlaw, the two men drank coffee that tasted slightly burnt and caught up on the last few weeks.

"I rented an apartment in Saint Denis," Albert began, "so I could just have a place to store equipment and develop the photographs. Bought these huge, black curtains to get all the light out in the one room, otherwise the pictures are ruined. And I thought I could save some money, since I won't be dragging everything around between hotel rooms. But trains are expensive, too! So I don't know if I'm actually saving money, but at least I have something of a home to return to."

"I've never been to Saint Denis before. Haven't been in a city in years. The last one was Chicago, I think. Didn't care too much for it."

"No, you don't seem like the city type. What have you been doing in the Grizzlies?"

"Hunting, mostly," said Arthur, eyes dropping to his coffee mug. He knew Albert wasn't the biggest fan of hunters.

"Oh." Albert suddenly became very interested in his shirt cuff. "What do you do with the animals you hunt?"

"Usually I sell the pelts to a local trapper. There's one who travels all over this region, and makes clothes, saddles, all sorts of stuff."

"Well, I'm glad it isn't trophy hunting. You didn't see the type," Albert said, relaxing again.

"He made this coat out of a grizzly bear that almost ate my friend. Real mean son of a bitch."

"Oh my! That long scratch on the coat, was that a scar on him?"

"Yeah. Had a big one across one eye, too. Weighed almost a thousand pounds."

"Amazing! It's a shame, though. I wish I could have seen him and gotten a photograph."

"If you try to go after a grizzly, I ain't so sure I can protect you!" Arthur joked, but he could tell that Albert was disappointed in the missed opportunity. He reached for his satchel, remembering the drawing of the grizzly he did, then hesitated. Rarely did he show his sketches to anyone. The last person he ever regularly shared it with was Mary, and that was a long time ago. Occasionally Hosea would ask to see them, but never pressured Arthur into showing him. He was pretty sure John stole his journal several times when they were younger, but not anymore. John knew better.

In a life of constantly traveling with the gang, everyone always underfoot and no quiet place in camp, the journal was the one piece of his life that truly was his own. Writing let his worries and fears slide out, his feelings defined in dark graphite. The drawings acted both as a practical guide to plants and animals and a method of relaxation. When Arthur could feel the stress building in his mind like storm clouds gathering on the horizon, each stroke of his pencil seemed to calm the air and let the clouds drift harmlessly by.

Arthur never willingly shared his journal with the people who pried. But Albert? For once, Arthur wanted to offer up that private piece of himself.

"Here. I drew a picture of him, if you want to see." He quickly paged through until he found the bear, a little rough compared to his usual drawings, since he had been unable to study the beast before it charged him. Still, the size and ferocity were clear, and Albert's eyes widened in shock upon seeing it.

"You drew this? You didn't tell me you were an artist!"

"Barely. It's nothing, really."

"It's amazing. May I?" Albert's hand froze, ready to turn the page.

"There's some writing in there. It's kind of… personal."

"I won't read it," Albert said, but still he waited for Arthur to nod before diving into the pages.

"These are wonderful! Did you ever think about drawing professionally?"

"They aren't that good."

"Yes they are!"

"Besides, I never really thought about doing art for money. Drawing in my journal has always just been for myself."

"I understand," said Albert. He looked at a few more drawings, lingering a little when he turned to one of himself, then gave the journal back. "It is good to meet another artist out here."

"So, you're in Valentine for eagles?"

"Yes! Though I'm not sure how that is going to go. I was planning to set up on the cliff over there and hope for the best."

"Not too close to the edge, I hope!"

The rain let up a little, but still not enough. When they were hungry, they made a dash for the saloon for some food and drinks. The bartender glared at Arthur, and he sheepishly recalled both the fight with Tommy and his later exploits with Lenny.

"…so we wake up in the jail, no clue what we did the night before. Sheriff said we hadn't killed anyone, so there's that at least!" Albert gripped the bar tight to keep from falling over as he laughed. "We paid a ten dollar fine, walked right out."

"And you don't remember anything?"

"I think I remember looking for Lenny a lot. I think I found him in bed with a woman, but I might have made that one up! I tried running from the sheriff, and ended up face down in the mud!"

The bartender muttered, "That, and broke a few of my glasses." Which caused Albert to spit out a mouthful of beer.

"Oh, I'm sorry, friend. Here," Arthur pulled out a wad of dollar bills and slapped it on the counter. "This cover it?"

"Fine. I won't ban you from my saloon. But no more trouble!"

Albert stared at the money and slapped his hand down on Arthur's shoulder. "You didn't tell me you were rich!" he said.

"Hardly!" Arthur didn't miss the way Albert's hand lingered on his shoulder. Or later when it brushed against his knee, a blush spreading to the man's cheeks. Was Albert… Arthur let that thought go for the moment. It wouldn't be good to make any drunken moves in public. Besides, the man was drunk as well. It probably didn't mean anything.

Later that night, when they stumbled back to the hotel in the finally dry weather, Arthur was pretty much holding up the photographer. He dumped Albert in the room next to his own and pulled off his shoes, turning to go. "Wait," Albert slurred. "Arthur… we're gonna photograph eagles tomorrow, right?"

"I have to meet with a friend sometime tomorrow, but if there's time after? Sure."

"Good, that's good. You are a good friend, Arthur." Arthur felt a warmth settle in his chest. It had been too long since he had a good time, just relaxing, with a friend outside the gang.

"You too, Al. Get some sleep."

Albert mumbled a response, lost in the pillow beneath him. Arthur went to his own room, kicked off his boots, and went to sleep.