And my laptop is fixed! Sorry for the delay, but I might be moving soon so I needed my laptop to be able to open and close without incident. Hopefully I will be back on writing track now.

Chapter 19: The Mayor's Party

"Why do I have to come to this again?" Arthur groaned while Albert tried to fix his bow tie.

"I was invited to the Mayor's gala by Mr. Laurent, and it would be rude to refuse. You are my plus one."

"And do I not get a say in this matter?"

"You seemed fine about it a few hours ago."

"That was before you started strangling me with this stupid tie," Arthur grumbled, trying to tug it a little looser. Albert slapped his hand away.

"You don't have to come with me, but it will be rather dull having to deal with high society conversations alone."

"Oh, you think making me feel guilty will work?"

Albert just smirked and finished with the tie. Of course Albert's method would work. Arthur always found disappointing the man to be difficult. "Fine, but we are taking a trip out of the city after this. We've been cooped up here for too long."

"I am sorry about that. This gallery opening has been taking up all my time. It is a rather new venue, apparently, and Mr. Laurent is rather anxious about its success. The only reason I've been invited to this party is to promote the show."

"I knew these high society parties weren't for fun."

"Everything is about making contacts," Albert sighed. "We will stay long enough to talk to the important people and then sneak out when everyone starts getting drunk."

"Aw, but it will be more fun when they're drunk!"

"Oh, stop it," Albert laughed, then he pulled Arthur into a long, deep kiss. "Besides, we don't want to stay out too late. This is the first time we've had the apartment to ourselves in a long time, after all."

Arthur pulled at the tie again, and managed to loosen it just a little. "At least you are taking me to dinner first," he teased.

Arthur and Albert walked to the mayor's house, a large mansion at the furthest edge of the city from the smog-spewing factories. They were greeted by a guard, who took one look at Arthur's hip and held out his hand.

"I'm sorry, but firearms are not allowed. After last year's incident, you know?"

"Sure," Arthur said, but his stomach turned at the idea of not having protection. Still, he was attending for Al, so he handed over his revolver and continued into the garden.

Only to be met with a sea of tuxedos, champagne, and chatter.

"Well, I suppose we should just pick a group and… introduce ourselves?" said Albert, glancing at Arthur.

"Lead the way."

Albert approached a group of men, joining in with the laughter following a joke he missed. The others continued to talk about what seemed like nonsense to Arthur, and whether Albert understood or not, he nodded along, trying to find a way into the conversation.

From behind him, Arthur heard a woman exclaim, "Camilla McClair, where ever did you get that hat?"

Arthur turned and took in the large, dark hat with the tall feathers extending at least two feet above her head. "Why, that would be telling," Camilla replied.

"Oh you… you're always so… stylish." The woman managed to used the words of a compliment in the tone of an insult. Arthur preferred straight insults. The hat surely was meant to copy the plumage of an exotic bird, but the only bird with a crown that Arthur knew was a rooster. Too bad the hat wasn't red.

"It really is a beautiful hat," Arthur said. While the compliment wasn't entirely true, at least it wasn't a veiled criticism. Still, he suspected that he knew the maker.

Camilla leaned in to share the secret. "I got it from Mr. Wasp, he's the finest milliner in the state. But don't tell anyone sir. The women here are all desperate to know."

"Is he here tonight?"

"Certainly! He would never miss the party. I last say him over there." Camilla pointed to the food table.

"Thank you."

Arthur headed over, figuring he should update the man on his search for the orchids. It wasn't like he had forgotten, he had been busy!

Fortunately, he arrived in time to save Algernon Wasp from choking to death on a peanut.

"You okay?" Arthur asked after the firm smack on the back dislodged the food from Mr. Wasp's throat. Mr. Wasp sucked ragged breaths into his lungs. Even before choking, Arthur thought the man looked to be on death's door. Mr. Wasp appeared tall and lanky in his shop, but here his red jacket and vest were pulled so tight around his body he seemed ill.

"Thank you, sir. Mr. Callahan, good to see you again."

"You as well. I am working on getting you those orchids, but finding them in the swamps is taking a while."

"Hence why I pay well. Have you had much trouble?"

"Not too much from the gators. There was a… small family issue I had to take care of, but everything is fine now."

"Excellent, excellent. My clients will be most pleased. I did not realize you knew the mayor."

"Oh, I don't. My friend Albert got invited. He's a photographer." Remembering why they were there, Arthur added, "He's doing a show next Saturday, if you're interested."

"Arthur?" The voice, normally deep and commanding, hesitated over the word.

Dutch van der Linde stood in the middle of the high society party, hair slicked back under the tall top hat and his mustache curled up above his wide smile, which faltered as he took in Arthur. Neither expected to see the other that night.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Algernon Wasp glanced between the two, muttered a quick goodbye, and scampered away.

Now alone, Dutch said, "I am here at the invitation of Angelo Bronte."

"You mean that snake who was going to hold Jack for ransom?"

"And would have gladly handed him over to us, had you not interfered."

"Well, excuse me for not knowing the prearranged deal when I saw Jack with strangers in the swamp!" Dutch was about to turn and walk away, but Arthur wasn't done just yet. "Seriously, Dutch. What are you doing here? Of all places?"

"You first."

Arthur huffed, and briefly shifted his eyes to Albert. His friend finally found a way into the conversation, a huge smile on his face as he talked about his work. "I'm here with a friend," Arthur finally admitted to Dutch.

"Since when are you friends with high society folks? I thought I taught you better, Arthur."

"You're one to talk!"

"I am not friends with Mr. Bronte. He is going to help us get money. I have a plan, Arthur, but we are going to need a lot of money.

"Bronte is a dangerous man, Dutch." Even avoiding high society, Arthur had heard about Bronte's control over the city.

"Which is why I am using him."

"Just make sure he doesn't use you."

Dutch simply scoffed, as if he could ever be wrong about anything. "So, which one of these fools is a friend of yours, Arthur? Certainly not that fancy fop you were just speaking to!"

Arthur did not want Dutch to meet Albert.

"No, but Mr. Wasp is a friend. Gave me some work."

"Honest work?"

"Yeah. You come here alone?"

"No, I brought Hosea, Bill, and Micah."

Arthur gave his first genuine laugh of the evening. "Bill and Micah? At a fancy party? You've finally lost it, Dutch. I'm glad they took guns at the door."

"Well, Bill certainly isn't my first choice. I would have brought John, if he would remember the gang instead of just playing at family."

"What is wrong with you, Dutch? Why shouldn't he spend time with his girl and son?"

"He has to remember that the gang comes first, Arthur! Something you clearly forgot!"

Up until that point, Dutch and Arthur kept their argument quiet, not wanting to attract attention to them. That was about to change, when an enthusiastic Albert chose that moment to appear.

"Arthur! There you are! There are someone you just have to meet!"

Dutch reached out and snatched Arthur's arm, grip tight, preventing Arthur from escaping with Albert. "And who is this?"

"Albert Mason. Wildlife photographer," Albert introduced himself with his hand held out.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Mason." Dutch let go of Arthur to take Albert's hand. Still, Arthur wasn't free, not while Albert was with his once friend and mentor. "And how do you know Arthur here?"

"Oh, Arthur has been much help with my photography project. I certainly would not have been much of a success without him. Or possibly eaten." Albert then must have seen the uncomfortable expression on Arthur's face, because he asked, "What is your name, sir?"

"Oh, how rude of me to not introduce myself. Dutch van der Linde." All charm, but still dangerous.

"Ah, yes. Arthur has told me about you," Albert said carefully.

"Not too much, I hope," Dutch said with a booming laugh. Out of Dutch's sight, Arthur mouthed at Albert to go.

"Well, I should get back to my conversation. I was just checking to see if Arthur wanted to join me."

"Oh, we're just discussing business, don't worry about Arthur here," Dutch replied before Arthur could use the chance to get away. Arthur nodded at Albert, who managed to slip away just as another person Arthur wasn't keen on seeing appeared.

"What's cowpoke doing here, boss?" Micah asked. He wore an all white suit and a red vest, standing out horribly amongst the sea of black tuxedos.

"I was invited. Not sure who invited you, Micah."

"Enough," Dutch said. "What is it, Micah?"

"I overheard some words about Cornwall. Figured I'd go check it out."

"Well done. Just make certain you aren't seen." Dutch sounded proud. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"You better watch Micah around all this liquor, Dutch. You might have to rescue him from jail tomorrow."

"And I would do so gladly. He's more loyal now than you ever were."

"How can you say that? I was loyal for twenty goddamn years! He's been around for what, six months? And you think you know a damn thing about him?"

"Oh, spare me your complaints about Mr. Bell. You left the gang, what does it matter?"

"It matters because there are still people I care about that have to deal with him."

"Yes, you do still care, don't you." Dutch placed an arm on Arthur's shoulder, too quick for Arthur to flinch away. "I heard that you saved Miss Tilly. Thank you, son."

"Should give you an idea what Miss Grimshaw thinks of the gang if she still comes to me for help."

"Yes, and you helped her without a second thought." Dutch looked back at Albert, engaged in conversation with a new group. "But it appears as if you care for that photographer more. Tell me, Arthur, how do you think that will play out. Are you going to stay here in the city, become a society man?"

"We are here because his photographs are in a gallery."

"And after that? Is he going to travel west with you, camping under the stars and hunting for food?"

Arthur frowned. He and Albert actually never discussed where they would go after the gallery opening. Dutch saw an opportunity and seized it. "You know, he reminds me of that Mary Gillis. At first, he seems interested in leaving society behind but at the end of the day, he will be locked in that gilded cage!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"You think that at the end of the day, that man will willingly go with you, live the outlaw life?"

"I ain't trying to be an outlaw no more."

"But you aren't one of these city folk, Arthur. And you never will be." Dutch leaned in close, whispering right in Arthur's ear. "One more decent score, Arthur, and we can be gone. I know you still care for the gang. Help them be free. Be free yourself." Dutch stepped back, grabbing a glass of champagne and turning back to the party. "Think about it, son," he said, then disappeared into the crowd.

Arthur let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding. He scanned the party for Hosea but couldn't find him. Okay, that was fine. He knew how to contact Hosea. Albert waved him over to the group, and worked to release the tension from his shoulders as he joined them. He hated how genuine Dutch's words sounded.

"Arthur, this is the Mayor, Henri Lemieux."

"Pleasure to meet you," Arthur said, shaking the man's hand.

"I hope you are enjoying my party," the mayor said with the hint of a French accent.

"It's quite a place you got here." Not Arthur's kind of place, of course.

"It's not mine, and the city is horribly in debt but we can still put on a good show." The mayor seemed very truthful. Arthur wondered how much the man drank that evening to admit to financial problems. A city in debt couldn't be good for Dutch's plans of wealth. But before Arthur could inquire more, the mayor turned to an older man next to him and said, "Do you know Evelyn Miller?"

"My lord, the writer?"

Evelyn Miller seemed incapable of meeting Arthur's gaze, all too modest. "Well, we same to have another deranged drunkard on our hands," he said.

"No, it's just… a friend of mine really likes your work. I've read some myself, though I ain't much of a reader."

"Well, I don't consider myself much of a writer, but that is a story for another day. I would like you to meet Rains Fall, a great chief, and his son, Eagle Flies." Arthur shook hands with the two men next to him. The elder, Rains Fall, appeared weathered and wise, while Eagle Flies stared around the crowd with anger in his eyes.

Evelyn Miller began filling Arthur in on the conversation and the horrible situation that the Wapiti were going through. After years of fighting and several peace treaties, the government was looking to move the tribe yet again. Eagle Flies wanted war, though Rains Fall cautioned against it.

"But that's why I began speaking with your photographer friend, sir," Mr. Miller explained. "These senators and government folk, they won't take a trip to the reservation themselves. They don't understand what they are taking away by selling land to these oil magnates like Leviticus Cornwall. But if we can document it! Bring the proof to them!"

Arthur was skeptical at first. In his experience, men tended to see what they wanted, no matter the proof in front of them. Then again, it was better than doing nothing. "Doesn't hurt trying," he said.

Mr. Miller and Albert were exchanging information so that they could write to one another while Arthur's thoughts drifted to Ambarino. He would hate to see the state be turned from the raw, untamed mountains into yet another oil field. He remembered the little watchtower on the hill, and how he could have stayed there forever. "Who owns the land up in the Grizzlies anyway?" he asked.

"Most of it is owned by the government, especially in the eastern regions. They originally seized it to build that railroad tunnel and the bridge near Bacchus Station, but now that construction is finished, the land is mostly for sale. It isn't ideal ranch or farm land, so there haven't been too many interested buyers. Why?"

"I just ended up staying in a cabin or watchtower or something while hunting up there. Seemed abandoned. No one lived anywhere near it."

"The Army built a few small forts and towers during the railroad construction to watch for possible… attacks," said Mr. Miller with a slight glance at Rains Fall. The chief didn't say a word to dispute his words.

Fireworks exploded in the distance, and the excited gasps that swept through the crowd brought an end to their conversation. Not long after the show, Arthur and Albert left the party and went home. He didn't see Hosea or Dutch on the way out.

Back at the apartment, Albert undid Arthur's tie and began to pull the suffocating clothes from his body. Arthur responded in kind, happy to be away from the judgment of others. But as much as he tried to relax and enjoy the evening, even after Albert fell asleep in his arms, Arthur couldn't block out Dutch's words from earlier no matter how hard he tried.

Is he going to travel west with you?

He reminds me of that Mary Gillis.

One more decent score, Arthur.

Help them be free.