And here I am stuck inside with another typhoon, which thankfully didn't hit us direct this time. Still, the weather has done wonders for my ability to write new chapters. Enjoy!

Chapter 17: The New Couple and Their Well-Behaved Son

Arthur slipped out of bed early the next morning after a rather restless night. It turned out that Jack slept like he was in a boxing match, arms flailing about and constantly tossing around under the covers. By the third time Arthur was jolted awake to a tiny hand slapping him in the face, the dawn light could be seen past the curtains. So Arthur decided to just get up and let Jack have the whole bed to himself. No wonder Abigail was always so tired!

"Morning," Albert said when he walked into the living room.

"What are you doing up already?"

"It turns out having your boyfriend come home late with a child can be the cause of some anxiety. I barely slept! You?"

"That kid does not sleep still. And has a pretty mean right hook."

"You make the coffee and I'll go get pastries and the paper?"

"Deal," said Arthur. Albert left to go down the street and Arthur started heating some water. Once the coffee was ready, he pulled out his map of the area. Based on what Jack said the previous night, the gang had to be camped along Flat Iron Lake. His best bet would be to follow the shoreline from north from the Braithwaite Manor, thought there was a small area just to the south of the property that could serve them as well. Jack did mention a boat washed up on shore, and the boy would probably recognize the fishing areas around camp. It couldn't be too hard to find.

But then Albert returned, grim expression on his face, holding up the latest copy of the Saint Denis Times. "It was a special edition, printed this morning."

SCORES DEAD IN BLOOD FEUD
BRAITHWAITE MANOR BURNED TO GROUND.
SHERIFF GRAY KILLED.
MOST OF BOTH FAMILIES BELIEVED TO BE DEAD.
RHODES IN PIECES.

The article itself didn't give many details, just that a shootout in the town resulted in the deaths of many of the Gray family and that several men then stormed Braithwaite Manor. The writer theorized that the fighting had only taken place between the two families, but Arthur knew better. And by the look on his face, Albert did, too.

"Your old gang. They were trying to rob these families, weren't they?"

"Yeah. Rob, though, not this!"

"Do you think this has something to do with why Jack was kidnapped?"

"Maybe. There were these two men on the bridge last night. One of them saw Jack and asked if I was a Braithwaite. If the gang had any reason to believe they were responsible for Jack, then, well…" Arthur gestured to the newspaper article. "Problem is the gang will have to move after this. The law will be crawling all over Rhodes."

"Where would they go?" asked Albert.

"Don't know. We never planned to end up in the South." He paused, eyes drifting to the bedroom door. "I think we don't have a choice but to keep Jack with us and hope Hosea sends us a letter."

He wanted to feel some sliver of hope, but as he kept staring at the article. There was no description of the men who burned the manor down, but it certainly had been Dutch. Was everyone still alive?

Arms wrapped around him middle, and Albert pulled him into a gentle hug. Arthur relaxed into it. Albert said, "I bet Hosea will come here as soon as he can."

"I know." But Arthur knew he just wouldn't stop worrying. "For now, though, I'll leave a letter in Saint Denis for Tacitus Kilgore. They might be able to track Jack to the city."

They were interrupted by a small thump and a patter of feet heading to the kitchen. "Hi Uncle Arthur!" Jack said, taking a seat at the table.

"Hey, Jack! Ready for breakfast? Ever have a croissant?"

"No, what's that?"

Arthur plopped the flaky pastry onto Jack's plate, smiling as the boy dug in. "You know, Jack," he said, "I think we should get you some new clothes."

"Really?"

"Of course! You've gotten so big. What do you think? New overalls? New boots?" He still had some savings left. Jack nodded enthusiastically, so Arthur said, "Well, when you are done eating, we can go do some shopping."

"Is Albert coming with us?"

Arthur looked to Albert, who jumped in with, "Oh, no. Unfortunately, I have to go to the gallery."

"We can meet up with him after he is done, Jack. What do you have to do at the gallery?"

"All the artists are meeting to go over the exhibit and check the displays before opening. I'm finally going to meet that Charles Châtenay you told me about."

"Just watch yourself," Arthur joked. "If you go out drinking with him, you might have to defend him from some angry husbands!" Arthur learned that lesson the previous week.

While they ate breakfast, Arthur quickly penned two short letters to the gang, one to leave in the Saint Denis post office and one to send to Rhodes. He was extra careful to leave out identifying details, knowing that the Pinkertons would be all over Rhodes soon enough.

Dear Tacitus,

Jack is safe. I found him in the bayou. We are in Saint Denis, H knows where.

A.M.

"You ready, Jack?"

They spent the morning buying new clothes, exploring candy shops, and eventually ended up at a bookstore after swinging by the post office. Arthur didn't particularly mind the amount of money he spent, since Jack's joy and excitement seemed to surpass the fear from being kidnapped the previous day. Though he would need to hurry up and find those orchids and plumes for Mr. Wasp once Jack was back with his family.

Albert met them for lunch. Apparently the managers at the Galerie Laurent found his photographs to be easy to arrange. Charles Châtenay's work? Not so much. "What did you think of Charles?" asked Arthur.

"He seemed to be a kindred spirit."

"Wait, really?"

"Oh yes. He will probably also get killed for his art!"

"Is all his art like that drawing I got?"

"Yes, except they are oil paintings, not sketches."

"Oh, Lord."

Jack perked up at the conversation about art, and asked, "Does he draw stuff like you, Arthur?"

"He does drawings, but they are a bit different than mine."

Albert, Arthur, and Jack got through the day well enough, and Jack didn't seem too concerned when they returned to the apartment for the afternoon. But Arthur's stomach was in knots when night came with no sign of Hosea. Not that Hosea would have even gotten the letter yet, but part of him hoped that Hosea would have run straight to the city to get his help in finding Jack.

They are moving camp, he reminded himself. Hosea, John, and Abigail will be here. They are probably fine.

But every day after that, the knot only tightened. Arthur believed Jack was growing suspicious, too. The boy would sometimes ask about going back to camp and seeing his parents. Hiding information turned out to be just as hard as entertaining the four year old. Arthur couldn't just send him out to play, like they did at camp. There were only two pairs of eyes available to watch him, as opposed to all the people in the gang, and the city had very different dangers.

So one morning, at whit's end, Arthur decided to teach Jack how to ride a horse.

"Isn't he a little young?" Albert asked.

"Naw, he'll be fine. Actually, I wanted to ask to borrow Lucy. She's a little more Jack's size, and she's pretty calm."

"Of course you can. Do you mind if I join you? And take photographs?"

"You better not be after more predators. I can't watch you and Jack at the same time."

"No, I mean, I want to take photos of you and Jack." Albert picked up the print of Arthur breaking his once wild horse. "I've been thinking about doing a series of photos on life in the country. Now that cities and railroads are expanding, it is another thing that will start to die out."

"I ain't so sure society would want to preserve the lifestyle of a gunslinger," Arthur said.

"I disagree. This is America, after all. We hold a love for killers that borders on macabre."

"Sure, but a picture of an old gunslinger teaching a boy how to ride a horse?"

"Well, people should see that there is more to an outlaw's life than robbing and killing."

"Alright." Arthur gathered up his satchel. "I'll get the horses ready. I figure Jack will be up soon. You can ride Dakota."

"Oh…"

"There a problem?"

"I figured that I would ride Lucy out to wherever you planned to give the lesson and then just wait on the ground. Dakota is… rather large."

"Albert Mason, are you afraid of heights?"

"No! Of course not! But falling from a horse…"

Arthur laughed. "You'll be fine! Dakota is as brave as they come. She won't buck you off for nothing."

"I will hold you to that."

"Besides, a Morgan is a little too small for both you and your equipment. You really should get yourself a real horse if you are going to keep trekking out into the wilderness with me."

"You've made your point! Go on, get Dakota!"

Arthur fetched Dakota from the stable and borrowed some smaller, more kid-friendly stirrups from Jacob, giving Zenobia a few pats while he was there. "How's she been treating you?" he asked.

"Excellent, sir. That's quite the horse you found," said Jacob.

"Glad to hear it."

When he got back, Jack spotted him from the window and immediately rushed down the stairs. "You are teaching me riding?"

"That's right! We are going to go a little up the street to the field, and then I'll put you on Lucy."

"Okay!"

Arthur mounted Merlin and pulled Jack up in front of him. Meanwhile, Albert slowly packed his photography equipment on Dakota and eyed the saddle nervously. "Come on, Al," Arthur said. "Dakota's a good horse."

Finally, he hoisted his leg up to the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Dakota shifted under him, probably sensing his discomfort, but Albert gathered the reins and tapped her sides with his boots to follow Arthur, Lucy trailing behind him.

Once they reached the small field near some farm houses a little north of the city, Albert set up his equipment while Arthur got Jack settled in the saddle. Dakota and Merlin wandered off, munching on some grass.

"Now Jack," Arthur began when the boy's first instinct was to grab the saddle horn, "hold the reins in one hand, like this." He positioned Jack's fingers correctly. "And your other hand, that can just rest on your leg."

Arthur led Lucy around the field a few times, letting Jack get a feel for being in the saddle by himself. Albert snapped a few photographs before Arthur let go of the reins, encouraging Jack to take a few laps and practice steering.

In retrospect, Jack probably was a little too small to start riding. Even with the stirrups raised to as high as they could go, his feet barely stayed in them and kicking Lucy's side proved difficult. Also, Lucy just wanted to eat grass, and kept pulling Jack forward onto her neck go grab a mouthful every few steps. Arthur shook his head and stepped in to yank her head up every time, since Jack's arms weren't strong enough, but Jack giggled every time.

They had a very successful day. Albert got some photographs, and explained to a fascinated Jack how photography worked. After going to a restaurant for dinner and introducing Jack to oysters, Arthur and Albert brought a happy but exhausted four-year old to carry back to the apartment.

No one was waiting outside their door when they returned. No notes, either. Arthur tried not to feel worry and disappointment.

"So, what did you think about riding a horse by yourself?" he asked Jack.

"It was fun," Jack said with a yawn. "I can't wait to tell Mama."

"I think someone is ready for bed." Arthur got no arguments to the contrary. "You go get your pajamas on, and then I'll come in in a minute and read you a story." He set Jack down, then whispered to Albert, "If he's still awake, that is."

"Okay. Goodnight, Uncle Al."

"Goodnight, Jack." After Jack left the room, Albert said to Arthur, "Uncle Al?"

"It don't take much for that kid to like you. He's been calling half gang uncle and aunt since he could talk."

"Still, I'm honored!"

"That so?" Arthur said, wrapping his arms over Albert's shoulders and pulling him in close. But seconds later, several gunshots went off outside. Arthur leapt between Albert and the door, revolver drawn.

"That sounded like it was just down the street," said Albert.

"Perhaps I should go out there and-"

"No, let the police handle it. It's their job." A few more shots echoed between the buildings, and Arthur tried to pinpoint where it was coming from.

"Sounds like it's up the street, near the cemetery." They were close. Too close. But then police whistles sounded out along with it, and Arthur allowed himself to relax a little. He then checked on Jack who, as predicted, was fast asleep.

Arthur jolted awake to a pounding on their front door. He was curled around Albert on the sofa, still in his clothes from the day. Apparently, they were both just as tired as Jack. Part of Arthur wanted to just ignore the knocks and go back to sleep, but they were insistent. He rolled out of bed and grabbed his gun, grumbling about who could possibly want to speak to them in the middle of night.

He opened the door to Hosea and John.

They looked horrible. There were bags under their bloodshot eyes, their clothes were rumpled and dirty. Arthur stood in shock in the doorway for two seconds before he yanked John into a hug with one arm, the other reaching for Hosea who quickly joined them. "You're alright, you're both alright," he gasped, unable to stop a few tears from forming in his eyes. "I saw the news about Rhodes." At first John tensed in Arthur's hold, but quickly he melted into him, his shoulders shaking.

"Jack. The Braithwaites took Jack. Said they gave him to this Italian, Bronte."

"John-"

"We tracked him down, went to his house. But Jack wasn't there!"

"Marston, it's alri-"

"He made us do this stupid job for information only to tell us that the Braithwaites never arrived! That Jack was probably dead in the swamp!"

"John!" Arthur pushed the man back, held his shoulders and met his eyes. "Listen to me. Jack is here."

"…what?"

And, with perfect timing, Jack opened the bedroom door and said, "Pa?"

John glanced past Arthur, eyes wide. "Jack!" Arthur let go of John just in time for John to swoop Jack into a hug. "I missed you, son!"

"Arthur, how?" Hosea asked.

Arthur pushed the door open more and said, "Come on in, and I'll tell you everything."

"You must be Mr. Marston," said Albert, and John jumped a little when he noticed him. But Albert waved to Hosea and said, "Good to see you again, Mr. Matthews," which helped John to relax again.

"Good evening, Mr. Mason," said Hosea. Both he and John took seats on the sofa while Arthur pulled a kitchen chair over. "How are you, Jack?"

"I'm fine, I had a great time," Jack said, his words slurred and sleepy. John let the boy snuggle against him.

Arthur began when they were settled. "I tried sending a letter, I'm guessing you didn't get it."

"No, we haven't really had the time, what with leaving Rhodes and trying to set up somewhere new," Hosea said.

"I was out riding in the swamps when I saw two men with a boy that was kicking up quite a fuss. Didn't even know it was Jack until after I confronted them. Was going to try to track you down, but then we saw the news about the shootout with the Grays and the manor burning down. What happened to you?"

John and Hosea exchanged a glance and looked down at Jack. "Why don't you get that boy back in bed, John."

"Shouldn't we get him back to Abigail?"

"It's the middle of the night," Hosea said. "We all need some rest, you especially."

"But-"

"We can talk in the morning, John," Arthur said, and finally his brother relented.

"Arthur, thank you. I don't know how to say it, but… thank you."

"It will be alright now, John. Get some rest."

Once John was out of the room, Arthur turned to Hosea. "What happened?"

"The Grays and the Braithwaites figured us out. Sheriff Gray set a trap in town. John and some of the boys went there thinking they would be working a security job. They… Arthur, I'm sorry. They killed Sean."

"God dammit, how?"

"John said he was shot in the head right at the start. Never saw it coming. Bill buried him near our old camp near Clemens Point. At the same time, the Braithwaites came and took Jack."

Arthur shook his head. It seemed only a few weeks ago Hosea was confidently relaying their plans to play the two families. How did it go so wrong so fast? "And the Braithwaite house?" he asked.

"We went there to find Jack. They refused to tell us where he was and fought back. Killed most of their boys. The matriarch told us that she gave Jack to Angelo Bronte only after we set fire to that house."

"So you tracked Bronte down." Arthur didn't know much about the Italian personally, but he had heard the rumors that Bronte ran the city.

"Yes. Dutch, John, and Micah of all people went to Bronte's mansion and got used. Did some of Bronte's dirty work for him. Of course Dutch doesn't see it that way! No, he's been raving about the garden party he was invited to. But Abigail was distraught. I grabbed John, figured we would come here and get your help searching the area."

"Good thing you did. Jesus, Sean. I can't believe it."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Sean," said Albert, "he was the Irish kid, wasn't he?" Arthur had told many stories about the good times with members of the gang since Albert found out about his past.

"Yeah. Like an annoying little brother to me."

All three of them sat for a moment in silence, Arthur and Hosea both working through their grief and exhaustion. "We should probably get some sleep," Hosea said. "You still have that cot?"

"Yes, let me get it out for you," Albert said, rushing to a closet.

"I'll grab the spare bedroll," Arthur offered, and helped get them settled for the night. Not that Arthur did much sleeping after that. He spent most of the night with his journal open and pencil still in his hand, trying to come up with any words for what had happened and how he felt.

The next morning came all too soon. While Arthur and John got the horses ready, the two brothers finally got a chance to talk.

"There's something wrong with Dutch," John began.

"Well, I could have told you that."

"After he pushed you and you left, he's been acting even more strange. Nothing's ever good enough for him, except for Micah it seems. How the fuck did that snake ever get so close to him? He's only ridden with us for six months!"

"I know."

"You know after Bronte told us he didn't have Jack, Dutch just gave up and moved on! Started talking about the next big job and how to make money as if my son wasn't missing. And there was Micah in his ear, telling him that we had to move on and let the weak ones go."

"You given any thought to taking your family and getting out of there? I heard from Jack that you've been spending more time with him."

"I was. When I saw Sean… my first thought was to grab Abigail and Jack and just go. But when I got back to camp, Jack was already gone."

"And now?"

"I want to," John admitted, "but I don't know how to survive out there, with an honest life. I have a family and I don't know how to support them."

"You can find work."

"Doing what?"

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, John had a point. None of them had done an honest day's work in all their lives, and many of the well-paying jobs required skills they never learned. Even bounty hunting felt wrong, considering the price on his own head, and it was a dangerous line of work.

Arthur sighed. "Just start saving some money. Have something stashed away in case you need to leave fast."

"Dutch keeps saying that all we need is one more good score, and the gang will have enough to disappear."

"And I hope that he's right, but in case he isn't. Just have a plan, John."

Hosea, Albert, and Jack came down the stairs, the boy bursting with energy. "Are we going to see Mama now?"

"That's right!" John said, scooping him up and placing him in Old Boy's saddle.

Arthur turned to Albert. "I'm going back with them. Just to visit!" he quickly added when Albert opened his mouth to argue. "I need to see everyone. They're family."

"Of course, I understand. Do be careful." Albert's glance to Hosea was a clear instruction to keep Arthur out of trouble.

They mounted the horses. John kicked Old Boy forward, but Hosea hung back with Arthur. "I know you never cared for such things, but I approve. Of Albert."

"Don't know what you're talking about, old man."

"You could never keep secrets from me!" Hosea laughed, and followed behind John.