By the time the pair had reached Blackwater, the weather had cleared up and the sun was shining through the clouds once again. Jack sighed, the weather was always so fickle at this time of year. The town was as busy as usual, travelers boarding the 12:00 train to Saint Denis, bankers straightening their tie as they walk into the hotel or saloon with some poor girl on their arm, and stray dogs licking up meal scraps and feces off the streets. No matter how many times he visited, Blackwater never failed to disgust Jack. One of the things he inherited from his father that he didn't consider unfortunate, was the disdain for cities in general. The people and buildings all reeked of degeneracy.
"Where's your contact meeting ya?" Sadie asked, the pair hitched their horses by the train station and continued on foot.
"Should be around here. Be on the lookout for a suited fella." Jack passively said, he glanced around the train station, scanning the faces of travelers and the various loiterers. He spotted a man matching the description he got in the letter. Black suit, bowler hat, glasses. He approached the man, who turned to him as the pair drew closer.
"Can I help you sir?" The man asked. He had an accent that sure as hell wasn't local, New York or Chicago probably.
"My names Jack Marston, I believe you delivered this letter to my property at Beechers Hope." Jack held up the empty envelope. The man glanced at the note, then behind him to Sadie.
"Who's she?" He asked, his tone seemed cautious.
"A friend, she's got similar aspirations to you and me, of that you can be sure." Jack assured the man
He looked around. "Let's y'all in private. Too many eyes and ears for my liking." The man led them off into an alley, Sadie grabbed Jacks shoulder and whispered to him.
"I don't like this. A suit leading us down some smelly and dark alleyway? Screams trap to me." Jack moved her hand from his shoulder as he opened his mouth. The man cut him off however, they were effectively out of sight of the local population, and he was finally comfortable sharing his information.
"My name is Cecil Reddington, I'm with the F.B.I-" Sadie immediatley pulled her gun, lining the barrel up with Cecil's ugly nose. He gasped and raised his hands, as Jack grabbed her wrist.
"The hell are ya doing?!" He yelled.
"I told you it was a setup! F.B.I. is setting us up, just like they set the gang up! Like they set your father up! I'm killing this fool!" Sadie yelled, pushing Jack away. She pulled the hammer back when Jack aimed the gun into the sky, with much more strength applied.
"Are you out of your damn mind?" He hissed. "Even is this is a trap, we would've been long dead by now. He ain't about to give no monologue leading with the fact he's a fed!" Jack was making sure to keep his voice down, but loud enough so Sadie would get his point. "Ain't shooting a gun would just bring the law right on top of us! You fuckin' want that?" He grabbed the revolver from her hand and motioned for Cecil to continue, his eyes never leaving Sadie or relenting in their glare.
"As... I was saying..." Cecil straightened his tie and attempted to regain his composure. Looking down the barrel of a gun had an odd way of making you nervous. "I'm with the F.B.I. and about two years back, the guy you're looking for retired. Edgar Ross. We threw a small party at the bar, where he loudly bragged about his cabin near Lake Don Julio that he could easily afford after the raise he got from the governor. For bringing down Dutch Van Der Linde and all." Jack scoffed, Sadie's knuckles grew white. "Our agency sent a letter to him last week, to the same address of that cabin. I don't know what the contents of that letter were. But the important thing is he's there. Lake Don Julio."
"What you gaining from this?" Sadie asked. Cecil gulped and stammered a response. Sadie grew even more impatient and repeated herself. "What you getting from this? Ain't no suit just gonna kill their old boss 'cause it strikes their fancy."
Jacked nodded. "She's got a point. Why are you selling out Ross?"
"The rat fuck got my sister killed. During Van Der Linde's bank robbery, back in nineteen-eleven, Dutch was holed up in the bank. Ross knew he had hostages. For this sensitive mission of rescuing civilians and brining down one of the most dangerous outlaws this side of the Grizzlies, he sends two deputies and a wanted gunslinger." Cecil clears his throat, blinking a bit before continuing. "Dutch shot my sis' right in the back of the head. She had just turned nineteen that week. And was robbed of the rest of her life cause that bastard didn't feel like getting blood on his suit."
Jack looked down, keeping his eyes on his boots for a few moments before slightly nodding. "Pretty damn good reason." He turned to leave the alley, "I'll follow up on this cabin lead. If I find out you steered me wrong, I'm killing you before she has the chance." He points to Sadie as he finishes his sentence. Cecil makes a gesture signaling he understands before the two gunslingers move to their horses.
"Wanna give me back my gun?" Sadie muttered.
"You were out of line." Jack responded. He raised his leg over his horse and moved onto the road. Sadie trotted beside him.
"You ain't in no position to tell me when I'm out of line!" Sadie yelled. "I'm not gonna apologize for trying to keep us safe."
"We've been working together for all of forty minutes and you've already lost my trust." Jack spat.
Sadie scoffed "You don't know what happened in those days, you don't understand what those feds-"
"You shut your damn mouth lady." Jack hissed. Sadie was taken aback a bit. "You don't know shit about what Ross or any of the rest of them did. So don't go pretending like you's is the only one who's had people abusing 'em."
Sadie got the message. The ride out of West Elizabeth was spent in silence, only the chorus of the hooves on the dirt and the hard tension between the duo filling the air.