Chapter 3: Stricken

The sun dipped low and heavy in the sky as Effie made her way into Blackwater, the rolling rich grassland of the Great Plains made way to dusty flat roads as she passed by the town's sign. She let out a small sigh as she started to recognise the streets and the buildings, in her youth she and her daddy used to frequent the town for trading, but since her last failed visit to the bank for a loan for the store a few years ago she hadn't set foot in the town since. She kept her mare at a slow, leisurely pace as she made her way around the outskirts of the town, enjoying the view of Flat Iron Lake in the evening light.

There was a butcher's stall set up just outside a tailors, the butcher was busying himself with a cleaver on a pronghorn carcass but paused as he heard her approach, he straightened and let go of the meat but kept the knife in his grip as he folded his arms and eyed her apprehensively as she halted her mare by the hitching posts. Effie frowned at his cold stature but gave him a swift nod and looked away as she leaned forward to dismount, she slowly lowered herself to the floor and narrowed her eyes as she realised how quiet everything was. Wasn't Blackwater supposed to be a town that had embraced the industrial boom? Where the hell were the locals? She could hear the faint sound of the saloon's piano playing a cheerful tune a few streets over, but that was it. The atmosphere was brittle - like the entire town had its breath held and it made her uneasy. She busied herself with her mare's tack as she tried to discern what it was that had caused the town to be so empty so early in the evening. The back of her neck was hot as she felt the butcher's gaze boring holes into her back, and she slid her hand in her satchel and found the hilt of her hunting knife, sheathing it at her hip and reached and felt for the comforting weight of her repeater hanging across her back. She reached and grabbed her daddy's worn stalker hat hanging off her saddle horn and put on firmly, dipping the brim low over her eyes.

She pursed her lips as she tried to make a decision where to start looking first, and she gave the butcher a quick glance but thought better of it. Her boots crunched against the dirt as she made her way into the town, she rounded the corner and frowned when she spotted the blue uniform of a lawman stood near the crossroads, his white gloved hands hefted a shiny, high grade repeater and he had a menacing looking long scope rifle strapped to his back. Across the way, there were two more officers stood in a similar stance - all of them heavily equipped. Effie frowned at all the officers and cleared her throat as she approached the first man. On his left arm there was a band embroidered boldly into his jacket sleeve, standing out in stark contrast to the cobalt blue uniform, Effie frowned curiously as she made out the writing as she approached:

"We Never Sleep"

"Excuse me, sir," The officer snapped his head to look at her, his grip instinctively tightened on the repeater and Effie gave him a small reassuring smile, but kept her eyes on the gun, "May I ask what's with all the officers? Is there something happening in town?"

The officer huffed, "Miss, I swear if we have to keep tellin' you townsfolk, we are here for your protection," He emphasised authoritatively, "Now you know you're not meant to be out here at this hour, the whole town is still on lockdown and that means you have to stick to the curfew that's been instated."

The girl frowned and looked down the empty street, "Lockdown?" She echoed.

The officer rolled his eyes, growing impatient, "Yes. Now, I don't care if you're sick of being cooped up and you thought you'd take a stroll and enjoy some fresh air, but I must ask you to return to your home."

"But I don't live here, I'm from Strawberry," She explained, holding her hands up innocently, "I was just trying to find somebody and I knew he was staying here in Blackwater somewhere for work."

The officer stared at her for a moment before he sighed and walked over to the notice board that was outside the general store, "Well, sorry but they're probably already gone, anybody that was staying in town has moved on, Miss."

"Why? What happened, Mister? Why is there a lockdown?"

The lawman gestured to the notice board, "Take a look, I'm surprised you ain't heard about it yet. Course, it only happened about a week or so ago, but," He scratched the neat stubble on his chin thoughtfully, "Still, I thought folks over in Strawberry had surely heard about it by now." Effie focussed on what he was pointing to, some fresh wanted posters had been put up over the old advertisements, as well as a torn page from The Blackwater Gazette. She frowned as she approached for a better look, the officer ripped the newspaper article off the board and handed it to her.

BLACKWATER LOCKED DOWN

BANK BOAT HEIST LARGEST ROBBERY IN YEARS. DUTCH'S BOYS ACCUSED. BOUNTIES PLACED. FURNISHES A SENSATION AMONG RESIDENTS. MONEY BELIEVED TO BE STASHED BY OUTLAWS.

After a bloody shootout that resulted in the seizure of a large quantity of banknotes being shipped by boat, PINKERTON AGENCY officials have restricted access to the town of Blackwater while a MASSIVE MANHUNT is underway. Officials issued bounties on the heads of DUTCH VAN DER LINDE and his gang, commonly known as DUTCH'S BOYS. Banks looked to shipping assets via boat as a more reliable means of transportation, impervious to thieves.

The DEADLY ATTACK resulted in the loss of $ 1 5 0, 0 0 0 - the largest robbery in the region in recent years. Authorities believe that the men may have stashed the money in Blackwater before fleeing. Reports indicate that many are searching high and low for the stash, upending public spaces and neighbours' gardens.

Many residents of Blackwater view the lockdown with contempt. Businesses who depend on shipments of dry goods, sundries and catalogue sales complain the Pinkertons have caused an unnecessary burden to life and welfare.

"Huh," Effie lowered the article and looked at the officer, "So that's why there's so much law around here? Strange, I don't remember seeing any patrols or anything as I came across the Great Plains."

The man straightened and cleared his throat imperiously, "Well we've had to redirect some of our forces further east in the hopes of catchin' the outlaws, Miss. This gang was pursued all the way out of town up through to the Grizzlies West, we chased them up into the mountains, apparently. We tried sending some patrols up there but there's some freak blizzard teariin' through the north in Ambarino, but rest assured, Miss, we will apprehend these criminals and bring 'em up to face the law."

Effie nodded and folded the article up and stored it in her satchel, "That man, Dutch Van Der Linde, he sounds a little familiar."

"Dutch Van Der Linde and his boys have been a thorn in North America's side for years," The officer nodded seriously, "But the agency is committed to bringing civility to the West, and hunting down outlaws and gangs like Dutch's Boys is all to protect the people."

"Right," Effie nodded, "And you said that anybody who was staying in Blackwater when the massacre happened left?"

The lawman shrugged, "From what I saw when I got here, ain't nobody in their right mind's gonna stay in a town that's gone into lockdown. You should've seen the aftermath, Miss, it was a damn bloodbath," He gritted his teeth, "Some poor girl that was on the boat got taken hostage by Dutch and a couple of his boys when the local law showed up and they shot her head off. We're still trying to clean her off of the walls down by the docks."

The memory of that O'Driscoll's head exploding in the bright sunlight forced its way to the forefront of her brain, and she swallowed hard and nodded sincerely, trying to purge the image of his body slumping to the floor, still twitching as his flesh, brain and bits of his shattered skull rained over the road and against the coach. She turned away from the officer and glanced at the board, looking at the wanted poster of Dutch Van Der Linde, she could feel the colour drain from her face as she felt the hopelessness surge within her; if anybody in Blackwater had gotten out of town, that meant that Arthur had moved off too. Her eyes drifted to the next poster; one wanted issue of a Mister Hosea Matthews. She read the description distractedly, trying to figure out what to do next. The lawman got called over by a squad of agents making their way up the street but she was no longer interested, she turned her attention dejectedly to the final poster and her breath hitched in her throat.

No.

PROCLOMATION

FROM THE DESK OF THE
PINKERTON DETECTIVE AGENCY

$5,000 DOLLARS

FOR THE CAPTURE DEAD OR ALIVE OF

ARTHUR MORGAN

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE'S RIGHT HAND MAN

A notorious enforcer of the VAN DER LINDE GANG and OUTLAW. He is wanted for raising a militia against the country, un-American activities such as MURDER and ROBBERIES.

Last spotted in WEST ELIZABETH, BLACKWATER

There will be a SUBSTANTIAL REWARD for any information regarding Arthur Morgan.

May 1899

Effie was rooted to the spot, blinking at the poster in disbelief.

There was no way.

No way.

This could not be the same man who had helped her, who had shown her such kindness and care and warmth. Who had carried her to her home, cleaned her wound, fixed her up and left her food, and then written her a letter apologising that he hadn't done more for her. She squeezed her eyes shut as her nose started stinging with sudden tears.

But here was the proof. Her mind raced back to the night of the storm; she remembered the way Arthur had sat so tensely at her shabby table, how his fingers had danced over the pistol hanging off of his gun belt - not out of nerves, she now realised as the cold realisation pooled within her, it was habit. Because that gun must have been as regularly used and relied upon like a pen to an author, because Arthur hadn't been some traveller caught out in the wild, who happened to be down in West Elizabeth for work.

He was a killer.

An outlaw.

Just like the O'Driscolls.

Effie's mind raced. Had he darkened her doorstep to rob and kill her? If he had, why didn't he?

Images of that evening they sat and laughed together flashed through her mind, how he had sat and told her stories of the places he'd seen and been to, how he had produced a worn leather journal and quietly sat and pooled over his book whilst she'd apologised to him if the stew hadn't been up to his standard. Then she remembered him looking around the bareness of her home, she remembered the guarded expression he had when she told him about her and her daddy's situation. And then it hit her; he couldn't rob what she didn't have.

But then, why?

Why had he helped her when she'd been stabbed? Why bother wasting supplies and food on someone like her? Why bother leaving a note?

She reached into her satchel and rooted around until she found the letter, folding it open and re-reading it for the umpteenth time. She got to the last line and her throat tightened, a slight dizziness threatened her and she stepped and pressed her back against the notice board to keep her knees from buckling.

Stay safe, I hope our paths cross again sometime,

Had somebody asked her earlier that would have been something she had dearly wanted, and hoped for. So much so she had made her way over to Blackwater to make it happen. But now?

Effie couldn't hope for anything worse.

She took a moment to get her breathing back and pushed herself off the board, she snatched the poster and stuffed it into her satchel as she hurried back the way she came, ignoring the lawmen officers as they stood as a group and reported to each other.

She rounded the corner and all but ran back to where her mare was stood, the butcher no longer in sight. Her fingers worked to loosen the knot she had looped around the hitching post and clenched her jaw as she noticed the bullet holes that scored the hitching post's wooden flesh. They looked fresh. She didn't need to guess where they had come from, either. With the reins free, she jumped up to the saddle on her mare and urged her towards the Great Plains, kicking her into a gallop as soon as she was clear of the town border and didn't look back.

T

Seems Colm O'Driscoll had the same ideas as us. Some of him and his gang have been hiding out up here in the mountains, scouting out a train he wanted to rob. We bumped into some of his boys at some farmstead they was robbing, found that poor woman whose husband they had murdered and she's now riding with us as she ain't got no place better to be.

Then, Dutch being Dutch, and his hatred for Colm being just as powerful as ever it was, a whole bunch of us went to pay him a visit at his camp, but he escaped. We grabbed one of his boys. Poor bastard ain't spoken yet, but he will once we freeze him a little, then set Bill on him. Been a bad few weeks, but we're mostly still alive. Dutch being Dutch is still making plans and figuring out just how we're going to survive. And Dutch being Dutch, those plans involve robbery and dreams.

Arthur dragged a heavy score underneath the last word and heaved a sigh from his chair by the fireplace. The room buzzed with energy as some of his fellow gang members hurried to pack up what they'd used to make camp with. Seated across from him was Mary-Beth, who'd stolen some time away in an effort to try and finish some book Hosea had picked up for her in Blackwater.

Behind them, the door swung open and the matronly figure of Susan Grimshaw marched in, bringing a bite of the unforgiving cold with her. And a bite of her famous temper. "Oh, for Lord's sake. Put that book away and go help, Mary-Beth!"

Mary-Beth looked up and for the briefest of moments a look of protest flooded her slight features, but it disappeared as soon as it had formed when she saw Susan's scowl. She snapped her book shut and jumped out of her chair, rushing off outside to help the others haul some crates. Arthur had watched the exchange with amusement, but had stayed perfectly still in his chair in the hopes that Susan's temper wouldn't flare to him. She ignored him and checked the shelf on the back wall to make sure nothing had been forgotten, then strode out the room. Arthur released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and chuckled to himself; the gang held some strong personalities within their ranks, and it helped keep things interesting and different on slow months during their survival, but the one constant everybody could rely on was Susan Grimshaw's tough streak that kept the gang organised and in order.

Arthur looked out the dirty window and spotted Dutch and Hosea stood a little way away from the rest of the gang, watching them work and chatting idly. Well, Dutch looked like he was chatting idly, Hosea looked mildly exasperated. Arthur stowed his journal carefully in his satchel and left the chair to go out and join them, as his boots crunched in the snow he fished out a cigarette and struck a match against the driest part of his boot.

"Hello, Arthur." Dutch dipped his head as he approached, his eyes bright as he watched the last wagon getting dug out of the snow.

Arthur nodded in greeting to them both and took a deep inhale on his cigarette, "So, we getting out of this hellhole today?"

"We're gonna try, weather seems stable enough." Dutch smiled as he puffed on his signature cigar.

Hosea didn't share his smile, instead his lips were pressed into a thin line, and his brow was slightly furrowed, "And we just robbed a Leviticus Cornwall train."

Dutch looked at his oldest friend and partner out of the corner of his eye, not missing his expression, "We got money in our pockets, the worst is behind us, gentlemen," He reasoned, "But the question is, where to now?"

Arthur focussed on his cigarette as Hosea paused for a moment. Bill and Lenny had finished loading the last of the crates into the wagon and Susan was ushering the girls to get seated. Micah was stood away from the group watching Pearson as he coaxed the last of the draft horses for the final wagon into their harnesses. "I know this country a little," Hosea scratched his chin thoughtfully, "I told you already, we should set up camp in Horseshoe Overlook near Valentine. We'll be able to hide out there no problem," He paused and his gaze fell upon Micah, "As long as we keep our noses clean." He said pointedly.

Arthur followed his gaze and smirked; it was no secret that Micah Bell had joined the gang under Dutch's decision - a decision that Hosea had no part in, and whilst Dutch had insisted to them both that Micah would prove himself, they were yet to see it. Before the ferry job in Blackwater, Hosea and Arthur had spent weeks intricately planning a real estate con that promised to be lucrative and - with a little finesse on Mr Matthew's part, clean.

Dutch ignored the comment and clapped his long-time partner heartily on the back, "Well then let's go! Clean noses, and everything else!"

The door to one of the bunkhouses opened and John limped out into the snow, his weight being supported by Abigail and Charles on either side of him carefully steadying him. Charles nodded to the three of them as they made their way slowly to the nearest wagon, Abigail called for Jack and then climbed into the back, turning to grab John as Charles lifted him with ease. Arthur finished his cigarette and threw it to the snow, whilst Pearson called to Dutch with his hand raised. The gang leader nodded and clapped his gloved hands together, then pointed to the last wagon, "Arthur, you're in that one. Bring Hosea, I know you two like to talk about the good old days and what's gone wrong with old Dutch."

The outlaw scoffed and nodded, then headed towards the wagon and climbed up the front. He tested the reins as Hosea climbed up next to him, as the other two wagons made their way out of Colter he turned in his seat and made sure the cargo was all secure, then he cracked the whip and the wagon lurched forward, the snow giving way under the wheels smoothly. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Arthur was grinning, as they made their way down the hill, he turned and gave one final glance to the ruins of the derelict town, eager to see it far in his sights.

T

Effie pulled her scout jacket tighter around her as she and her mare made their way through the woods towards home. She couldn't afford a lantern so was relying on the moonlight and the familiarity of the undergrowth. A great horned owl passed overhead silently, it's great wings spread out and silhouetted against the pale light, it perched itself on a branch above and hooted to them in the dark. In the bushes she could hear the occasional brushes of the nocturnal wildlife scampering and exploring, a badger scurried across the unmarked path before them and her mare nickered. The girl leaned forward in her saddle and patted the mare's neck to reassure her, then she reached down and grabbed the small canteen that was strapped against the lower saddle, she squeezed the cloth as she tilted it back to try and get as much water as she could, she finished the drink with a heavy breath and made a face as her stomach panged and growled.

She looked away from the hidden path and rummaged in her satchel in the hopes of finding something to eat. She'd headed out to Blackwater without stopping to pack anything to eat, and even if she could afford it, she hadn't stopped to linger in the town after finding out its fate from the aftermath of the massacre.

Her hand came up empty and she sighed, hoping that there was something left in the cabin that she could have. Going to bed hungry wasn't a new sensation, it was one she'd lived with for years now, but it still hurt her all the same, whenever somebody pointed out her underfed frame she still felt that same wave of shame. She promised herself she'd stick closer to the cabin when she hunted the next morning, she'd eat and then try and figure out what she could do for money. Once she'd figured that out, she could deal with her daddy.

"If he'll even be back by then." She muttered under her breath.

By the time she reached the cabin the cold night air had settled over the valley, and Effie was shivering as she dismounted and made a fuss of her mare, taking extra care when she brushed her mane and trying not to meet the horse's gaze as she did so. The mare was tired after a long day's ride, and wasn't going to be happy when Effie would leave her and not return to feed her till morning.

There was a light coming from the cabin and Effie frowned; she had left the fire to die in the early hours of the morning, and she'd never leave the one light they had working in the cabin on during the day if there wasn't anybody in. Her daddy must have finally returned home, figures as much, considering Blackwater had been placed into lockdown. She mulled over the state he'd be in as she approached the door, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders as she pushed the door open and stepped through.

As soon as her boots crossed the threshold somebody barrelled into her from the side and she cried out in shock. She hit the floor and scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding as she reached for her repeater but it was snatched from her grip and thrown to the floor. Before she could react a cold blade pressed to her throat, a fist wound tight around her braid and pulled her head back painfully. She gasped in fright and heard somebody chuckle, "That's it, girly, don't move or I'll slit your throat."

"Please," Effie breathed, "If you've come to rob me, I don't have anything worth a dime."

"We know," A man stepped out from behind the door to her father's bedroom, a pistol was digging painfully into Jack Bartlett's temple, his glassy eyes met his daughter's and he immediately dropped his gaze.

Effie's heart dropped.

"See, the problem is, your daddy owes us a whole lotta money. And well, we've been kind enough to put up with his company at the poker table for the last few weeks. But now we need to collect what we're owed, but your dear ol' daddy's come up short." She couldn't see the man behind her with the knife, but the way the blade tapped menacingly against her skin, and the way his hot breath curled against her ear had her frozen on the spot. She could feel her hunting knife in its sheath off her belt, but if she made any moves to grab it, she'd be choking on the blade at her throat and there'd be a bullet going through Jack's skull.

The girl stuttered as her mind raced a mile a minute, scrabbling for a way out of this, her eyes were wide as she stared pleadingly at the man who held onto her daddy as he stumbled, she noticed the green neckerchief hanging around his neck and something clicked in her head.

"You're O'Driscoll's." Her voice cracked.

One of the men chuckled darkly, "You've heard of us then?"

Despite the blade, Effie nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Good, means you won't try anythin' dumb," He nodded, "Can't say the same for you daddy, though. Man was real dumb tryna weasel his drunk ass outta his debt he racked up with us." He shoved Jack to the floor and spat on him as he cowered, his pistol trained on him, Jack coughed and held his hands up pathetically.

"Please boys, you got what you came for. Now please, leave me alone. I said I was sorry!" Jack pleaded meekly, it was the most sober Effie had seen him in years, and whilst she had been hoping to see him sober again she found herself disappointed. He wasn't anything like the master hunter and caring father she had missed and yearned for so dearly.

The man holding the gun pursed his lips thoughtfully as he appeared to consider Jack's begging, "Y'know what, Jack? You're right. Hell, I actually thought you was an okay guy, considerin'. But we know your type. We lent you money to pay off that two month tab you'd racked up down in Blackwater, an' we heard you borrowed money of that Austrian fella to try an' pay us back, who knows who else you borrowed off of to try and get everythin' together…" He trailed off and tutted, like he was scolding a small child, "Even though you've managed to pay us off, who knows who else is gonna come gunnin' after you for whatever you've leeched from 'em."

Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but Effie managed to find her voice, "Please Mister. I beg you, my daddy's sorry he didn't pay you back in time. We don't have anythin' right now, but I swear I can get the debt cleared, just give me some time and I'll do whatever I can to get you your money."

The outlaw swung the pistol around and trained it on her chest, Effie stilled in his partner's grip and waited for the shot to ring out, but it never came. Instead the man with the gun glared down at Jack from where he grovelled, "You see that, Jack? Even after everythin' you did, she's still willin' to do anythin' to keep you safe."

Her daddy nodded, "I told ya she would."

"Please," Effie pressed, "Just give me a chance, I can get the debt paid."

The bandit restraining her shook her roughly in her grip, her body jerked painfully and she cried out as his grip on her hair pulled her back up, "Shut up," He growled in her ear, "Your daddy's already reached an agreement with us."

Her brow furrowed as she fought through the pain blossoming from where her hair was near on being ripped from her skull, "He has?"

She felt a rough hand on her side, ripping her satchel over her head as someone emptied its contents to the floor next to her repeater. Some forgotten strips of leather, a few wilted herbs, the crumpled bills Mister Flynn had given her and her map fell to the dusty floor. The map fell at an angle and the folded note and bounty poster spilled out and landed near one of the outlaw's feet. He bent to grab it as someone else snatched the bills up, the man held her firmly with both hands, the knife no longer poised at her throat. Her mind whirled as she watched the outlaw frown at the note and pass it to his partner with the gun, the O'Driscolls mouthed some of the words as he read the letter. He lowered the note and looked at her, she stared back with no expression as his friend who grabbed the note looked at him, "Fletch and the Mackie boys?" He said.

His partner with the gun nodded stiffly, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he glowered at the girl, "It was you, girl? You killed them when they was robbin' that stage?"

Effie closed her eyes, the scream that had haunted her dreams echoed in her mind, suddenly she was back at that day, sat squinting in the sun as a figure loomed over her, grabbing her and slamming her against that stagecoach; "You shot my brother, you fuckin' whore, I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya!"

"I - I didn't - They shot at me first! They were gonna kill me!"

None of the outlaws spoke, Jack stared between his daughter and the gang as the stand off went on, long seconds dragged by and Effie tried to think of a way out. They knew what she'd done, they knew she'd killed their gang members. Something told her they were probably gonna kill her for it, and probably make her suffer before she did it. Well, if she was going to die, she may as well try and do something about it. The man holding the gun was looking down at the note again, "Arthur," He muttered to himself and grabbed the wanted poster and looked at her, "You know Arthur Morgan?"

Effie shook her head furiously, "No, we just met in passin'. He helped me out one time, that's all."

"Was Arthur with you when you killed our boys?" The man restraining her pressed, his tone edged with anger.

She shook her head again.

The man with the pistol pinched the bridge of his nose and started laughing, Effie frowned at him uneasily as he continued, apparently unable to contain himself. "Hahaa! Oh this is perfect! Jack Bartlett has paid his debt and we found who killed our boys."

One of the gang members glared at her and nodded, "Colm'll sure be happy."

The bandit holstered his pistol and produced a bottle of bourbon from his jacket's inside pocket, he held it out to Jack. Her daddy hesitated before reaching out to take it, as the bottle was pressed into his hand the O'Driscoll stepped and ground his boot cruelly on his other hand laid flat on the floor. Jack cried out and Effie ground her teeth as the outlaw leaned down to him, "Our debt with you is settled, Bartlett, but I swear, if you come lookin' for us I promise you I'll end ya miserable life," He leaned his weight down before stepping off, Jack howled and held his crushed hand to his chest as he stayed on the floor, the O'Driscoll snapped his fingers towards Effie and the man holding her, "Right, let's get outta this shithole, camp's probably wonderin' what's takin' us so long."

Effie frowned at the exchange between the outlaw and her father, "I don't understand, that's it? How did he pay the debt?"

The outlaws laughed and the leader grinned at her, showing off blackened teeth, "He's payin' with you, Miss Bartlett. Two hundred and fifty dollars and a bottle of bourbon, in case you where wonderin' what your daddy thinks ya worth, that reminds me," He fished out a few bills whilst one of the gang members snatched her satchel and repeater off the floor, the bills were tossed down beside Jack, who kept his eyes downcast as Effie stared at him in disbelief, "Here's the fifty, and if I was you I'd give it to that Austrian, can't promise anyone else'll be as good as us about your debt as we are."

The man tried to haul her towards the door but she struggled against him, her eyes boring into her father, "How could you?"

Jack busied himself by opening the bourbon, "I'm sorry Effie, but I didn't have anything left."

Tears dripped down her cheeks as she continued to fight against the rough hands that gripped her, "So what? I'm not worth what - what cards and whiskey are to you?"

He raised his head and looked at her with hooded eyes, he didn't say anything but took a long drink from his bottle, then he turned his back to her and sobbed pitifully. Effie couldn't believe it, after everything she'd done, how hard she'd worked and struggled to keep them going out here. And he'd just thrown her aside, bartered her off like a damn workhorse.

She allowed herself to be dragged outside and bit back a helpless sob, making a quick decision, she threw her elbow back, savagely jutting into the bandit's gut and stamped her heel down on his foot. The man grunted, not expecting the jab and loosened his grip on her, she jabbed him, once, twice, three more times before he released her and doubled over and she didn't hesitate. She sprinted to the open shed and grabbed the reins, using her adrenaline to climb up on her saddle and kicked her mare into motion. She was galloping down the path and into the woods by the time the rest of the group had joined their friend outside, some shots rang out and she ducked instinctively, leaning forward to urge her mare on as the men hollered behind her.

She felt for the hunting knife strapped at her waist and cursed to herself, missing the comforting weight of her repeater. She raced through the forest, the trees all but blurring past her as she made her way out to the road, she heard branches snapping and reins cracking and risked a glance behind her, they were a little ways behind her but surely gaining, more shots rang out and bark exploded off of trees and bullets whistled past her, "Come on, please, please let me get out of here." Another shot echoed and Effie tensed, she waited for it to clash into a nearby tree or fire past her, instead her mare gave out a low, faltered whinny as she jolted out her sprint.

Effie's heart caught in her throat, the world seemed to slow as she fell with her companion to the woodland floor, her mind was screaming at her to move, but her body didn't seem to be listening to her, she managed to raised her arms up as she crashed to the ground, and everything went black. Hooves thundered in the distance and Effie groaned as the dark slowly brightened, she raised her head off the cold ground and became vaguely aware of dirt and dust falling from her face, something in her brain was screaming at her, but she couldn't make it out through the haze. She grunted as she slowly became more focussed and her fingers flexed slowly, she tried to roll her feet but shifted when she couldn't, they were trapped under a huge weight. A weak nicker broke the quiet and Effie shifted in panic, "No." She rasped. She tried to sit up as best she could, tried to pull her legs free as her mare lay strewn across the floor, the horse raised her head and huffed weakly, a bullet wound gouged through her lower side.

"Please, no," Effie blinked and tears were suddenly streaming down her cheeks, her heart felt like it was turning inside out within her chest and a sorrowful cry felt like it ripped from her throat, she stopped trying to wiggle free and instead threw herself over her companion as best as she could, stroking her neck gently, "Shh, shh, it's okay girl," Her voice was barely audible, her chest heaved as she sobbed as quietly as she could. In the trees somewhere behind her she could hear the O'Driscolls coming closer, whooping and yelling in the dark, "I'm sorry, but you did… you were the best damn girl I ever could've asked for. Thank you for everything." Her companion's breathing weakened and she lowered her head back to the forest floor, Effie clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her crying as the horse stilled, ignoring the numb feeling in her legs as the men's shouts drew nearer. The sound of hoofbeats slowed and Effie stayed as still as she could. Slowly, she moved her hands to her mare's shoulder and started to try and push her away. After several agonising seconds, her right leg could move a little, she flexed her toes, trying to gain the feeling back in her lower limb as she kept pushing.

"Shit! I found her boys!" Effie snapped her head up at the figure in the gloom, branches snapped and twigs cracked around her in the dark as the other men closed in on her, sweat formed on her brow and she pushed against her mare harder, she stopped when she heard the resolute sound of a pistol's hammer.

"Don't you move, girly, or I swear I'll shoot." One of the outlaws hissed in the dark.

She raised her hands slowly, one of the men stepped towards her and arms wrapped around her torso, she moaned in pain as he dragged her out from underneath the horse. She was roughly flipped onto her stomach and hogtied tightly, some of the men jeered and laughed as her face was pressed forcefully into the dirt. Suddenly she was lifted and the world swung around her as she was slung onto one of the outlaw's horses, the leader lit a cigarette and moved around to her, the warm glow of the cigarette lit his mean features as he gave her a predatory grin.

"You thought it was gonna be that easy, did you, Miss Bartlett?" He said, his tone relaxed and care-free, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

She glared at him through the gloom, "I don't know why you're wasting your time, you should just kill me now and get it other with."

The outlaw blew smoke in her face and she turned her head away, "Aw we ain't gonna kill ya, girl," He let out a short, dark chuckle, "Yet anyways, 'sides, the rest of the gang are dyin' to meet ya." He ruffled her hair and whistled to his men, "C'mon boys, lets take her back to camp. I reckon Colm's gonna be real pleased with what we're bringing back." He slapped her bum for emphasis and the bandits laughed and whooped. They mounted up and started out the woods at a swift pace, Effie couldn't decide if it was the rocking movement of the horses gait she was stowed upon, her father handing her over to a ruthless gang of killers, or the sight of her fallen companion being left to rot alone in the woods; but it was making her unbearably queasy. The rider lit up a cigarette as they made their way out of the woods and onto the road, and Effie couldn't help herself; she retched and heaved up what little she had in her stomach onto the ground as it jerked past her. A few of the outlaws laughed, whilst the rider swore, "Fuckin' Christ," He turned in his saddle and glared at her, "If I find you've sicked up on my damn horse I swear to god I'll make ya clean it off with ya tongue, filthy bitch!" A fist landed on the side of her head and she groaned and succumbed to the darkness.

T

Arthur cracked the reins of the harness gently to encourage the draft horses along, the early light of dawn was slowly breaking, and the sky over the Heartlands was tinged with a light pinkish hue as the wagon made its way up the hill from the Dakota River, Hosea hummed to himself as he busied himself with his small mortar and pestle, grinding some herbs into a paste. Charles sat quietly in the back of the wagon with his knife, sharpening his arrowheads, rabbits and the occasional fox scurried out of the bushes and onto the road as the wagon continued on until they reached a rich woodland. Javier Escuella was perched on a rock waiting for them, he waved with a lit cigarette between his fingers and Arthur slowed the horses.

"There you are, brother," The Mexican greeted warmly, he hopped off the rock and gestured into the thick undergrowth of the forest, "Head in there and follow the track a bit."

Arthur nodded as his gang mate walked around the back of the wagon and perched on the back, "Thanks." He directed the horses off the path and into the thicket, his eyes picking out the hidden natural pathway.

"Any trouble getting in here, Javier?" Hosea turned around in his seat to look at the young man.

"No, it went well. This is a good spot."

Hosea nodded, satisfied and patted Arthur on the arm, "I think this'll work well for us, Arthur. For now, anyway."

Arthur grunted in agreement and let his mind wander, he hadn't been down this way in what seemed like forever, and he was trying to piece a map together in his head. If Valentine was close by, then that meant Strawberry wasn't far either, he'd been wondering about the Bartlett girl since they'd had to flee Blackwater. He looked up at the light sky and wondered if she was out in the forest at that moment, hunting for whatever she could track and get her hands on. Or maybe she was out exploring with her horse, enjoying the scenery and keeping out of trouble. Something twinged within his chest.

God, he hoped she was keeping out of trouble.

The trail led out to a clearing tucked away on the cliffside, offering a beautiful view of New Hanover in all its glory; the sky had brightened considerably and the birds overhead were chirping. Arthur halted the draft horses and looked around; some of the tents had already been set up by the others.

Dutch strode out of the big tent situated in the centre of the grove, his arms held out by his sides and a huge, beaming smile on his face. He'd since abandoned his heavy winter coat and scarf, and the gold pocket watch chain that hung from his waistcoat swung merrily as he approached, "You weren't wrong, Hosea. This place is perfect."

"I hope so." Hosea nodded as he eased himself down from the wagon.

Arthur jumped down the other side and continued to take in the scene.

Finally.

At last, they seemed back on the sort of the right track, Horseshoe Overlook was a damn paradise compared to the dilapidated and unforgiving frozen wasteland of Colter in the mountains. He joined Dutch and Hosea as they admired the camp slowly taking shape, a table had been set up near Pearson's wagon, and Tilly had her domino set laid out begging Mary-Beth and Karen to play a game with her, Uncle sat across from the girls with a bottle in his hand and Arthur smiled at how normal it all looked again.

"Gentlemen, we have survived." Dutch declared.

"For now." Hosea cautioned, ever the wary one of the three.

Dutch rolled his eyes at his partner, "Now is the time to prosper," he insisted.

Hosea tutted, "Arthur and I were about to prosper in Blackwater. We were onto something big, then Micah got you all excited about that ferry and here we are."

"We have all made mistakes over the years, Hosea," Dutch argued half-heartedly, and looked between them both pointedly, "Every last one of us. But I kept us together - kept us alive, kept the nooses off our neck."

The oldest of the three nodded in agreement, "And I'm not trying to dispute that. I guess I'm just worried, I ain't got that long, Dutch. I want folks safe before I go."

The gang leader paused and turned to look at his partner, "Me too."

"And now we are stuck," Hosea continued, "East of the Grizzlies and out of money - and a long way from our dream of virgin land in the West."

Dutch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, an action he often did when Hosea needled him with this tone, "I know, my brother, but we are safe. We make a bit of money here, then we move again. Head out around them, be west of Uncle Sam, in a few months buy some land." Arthur recognised the quality of his leader's tone, charisma and subtle persuasion had always flowed freely from Dutch's lips whenever he so wished, and the way he was talking to them now? It reminded Arthur of someone spooning honey.

"I hope so." Hosea murmured and looked out over towards the Dakota River in the distance.

"Would you just look around," Dutch continued, "The world has its consolations."

Someone behind them cleared their throat and the three of them turned, Leopold Strauss was dressed in his worn grey overcoat and a suit that had seen better days, he peered at the three men behind his small spectacles expectantly, "Gentlemen, I'm going to head into the local town, and you know…" His eyes shifted to Arthur and then back to Dutch, "See if I can strike up a little business," He held up a letter, "We are also expecting a final payment from one of our outstanding debtors near Strawberry, so I'll head to the post office and send it off. Of course, if I don't receive a response I'll be forced to go our… alternative route." He glanced at Arthur and the outlaw clenched his jaw.

Dutch nodded, "Of course, Herr Strauss," The Austrian turned on his heel and slunk away and Arthur bored holes into the back of his head, he turned to his leader and opened his mouth, but Dutch shrugged, "I prefer robbing banks to usury… seems more dignified somehow."

Hosea hummed in response, and Arthur shook his head in disgust, "I honestly wouldn't mind it so much, s'just Strauss seeks out the wrong type. Dunno why he couldn't pose as an up an' comin' bank representative or somethin'."

Dutch walked back over to the centre of the camp, calling everyone over to make one of his speeches. Arthur broke away and headed around the camp, he found his tent set up with all his things laid out neatly around his cot, and someone had laid his chest holding his clothes and weapons at the end of the bed. Just outside his tent his straight razor had been placed on a spare barrel with a mirror, a bar of soap and a mirror. He lay his hat on the bedside table next to some photographs and sat down on the cot, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders as he pulled his journal out of his satchel. A little way off Charles was busy chopping wood, and Javier was sat by the fire carefully tuning his guitar, once he was satisfied he began to strum it gently and Arthur sighed. The weight had started to lift off his shoulders, and although it wouldn't be long until the gang started setting up jobs, he felt like he finally had time to breathe.

He opened the journal and pulled out his map that was safely folded in the front, he opened it and studied it, his finger traced its way across the page from a point of the Dakota River until he found the right space:

HORSESHOE OVERLOOK

He studied the rest of the map in interest, a part of him looked forward to filling in the blank spaces that weren't filled, but another part of him was interested in something else in particular. His pencil tapped the location he was looking for and he nodded to himself as he considered the ride; she would be about a half day's ride from him. He drew a small square in the woods north of the settlement and added another location:

BARTLETT'S CABIN

Author's Note: Okay! So, here's some more for you all - I hope you guys are enjoying it so far! Thank you for your comments and follows - nothing makes me happier when I get the notifications come through! As always let me know what you think in the comments - we're sloooowly getting somewhere into the real story and I can't wait!