Susan inspected the main wagon for any of the gang's remaining possessions. All of it had been unpacked except for one trunk that she knew didn't need to be opened. She paused, resting a hand over the wood, her fingers running along the black metal bands bolted over the top.

Inside was a private collection of trinkets the others didn't know about. Whenever they lost one of their own, most of their property could be reused: blankets, clothing, weapons. But there were also personal belongings left behind that Susan couldn't find in her heart to throw away.

Jenny's charm bracelet full of missing charms, a damn near worthless piece of jewelry except to the girl who'd worn it. A polished bullet Mac had carried on his person with a tale of how it'd nearly killed him until he'd fished it out of his own body. From Davey, a marred poker chip he'd always flipped between his fingers and claimed was his good luck charm, but it had done nothing to prevent his death. Of Sean, she'd held onto a pewter flask he said was given to him from his Da.

Kieran hadn't been with them long, but she couldn't deny he'd made an impact and set aside one of the horse brushes he'd once excitedly warbled on about to her. Susan also had one of Hosea's neckerchiefs in here before he came back to them alive and well. And the last addition to this morbid collection, Leopold's spare eyeglasses.

He'd been a good friend to her, even if the others had disliked him. He was one of the few who'd been unafraid of her snarling. He'd been shrewd and practical, but his last act on this Earth had been to save the girls.

Of course, he'd also left the main group on the pretense of bringing back medical supplies so Susan couldn't sing his praises too highly.

Susan moved away from the wagon and had a look around at her work, at the completion of the campsite and felt satisfied. Even with the party of last night, she'd managed to get this place looking like home again.

Her eyes stopped roaming when they fell on the cave entrance, which had ended up being an unexpected note of contention between her and Micah.

She'd set up Dutch's tent on the right side of the cave opening. When she'd started plotting out the location of Hosea's tent next to it, Micah had come up to her and thrown down his bedroll, asserting the spot as his.

She didn't fully understand his adamant insistence since there would be no protection from the draft of the cave, but she hadn't the will to fight him at the time. She moved on and had Pearson get Hosea's tent set up further down and closer to Arthur's wagon.

Micah had done nothing except buddy up to Dutch since Hosea and Arthur's absence so she chalked his behavior up to him fighting to play favorite. She only wished Dutch liked his company a little less.

As her gaze continued to rove across the camp, she spotted Pearson, sitting on his ass, nursing a bottle of that nastiness he called Navy rum.

She marched up to him. "Mr. Pearson, I expect laziness from the rest of these degenerates, but you?"

He lifted his head and told her glumly, "I think these past few weeks are catching up to me, Susan."

He wanted to chat, she could see that. But she didn't have the time or the energy for it. While the camp was up and running, there were still minor chores to do. They'd pile up if she didn't make sure everything was taken care of.

Yet, she graciously offered to him, "Well, take a short break if you need it, but don't waste the whole day."

Pearson nodded, but had a far off look to him. He wouldn't move from this spot unless she did something.

She released an impatient sigh. "Yes, what's on your mind then?"

"I just didn't think we'd be running for this long. I was looking forward to setting up something a little more permanent after we were done in Blackwater. Now, it seems nothing more than a faded dream."

Jesus Christ. How much had he had to drink? Moping around like a forlorn puppy over nonsense like that? It was pathetic.

She told him. "Hard times fall as often as the good."

"If you say so. Seems like it's been all hard times for awhile now."

She ignored how much that admittance unsettled her and snapped, "That is enough." She smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Start doing something productive by the time I make my way back over here."

She was sick of having to be the one to pick everyone up. Susan marched on furious heels over to one of the tables, snatching a rag on the way. She wiped over it aggressively. Hosea sat there, a newspaper in his lap and safe from her rage cleaning.

"Awfully cantankerous today, Susan," he commented mildly as he turned the page with the hand not in a sling.

She harrumphed. "I don't see you getting any of them in line."

"Was there someone in particular bothering you?"

Susan threw the rag onto the table. "All them girls except Tilly have slunk off to God knows where. Even Abigail's chasing some nonsense with John and she's even left Tilly in charge of Jack."

"Is that so?" Annoyingly, he seemed more curious than concerned.

"Yes, that is so," she responded, aggravated. "I don't even have Mrs. Balfour because Arthur's trying to get rid of her for whatever reason."

Susan secretly hoped he failed at that task. While Charlotte was another mouth to feed and had been useless with chores at first, she'd more than made up for it when the men were absent for weeks. She'd picked up the slack when the others had lost their will.

"Ah yes. That trip to Saint Denis?"

"With Miss Gaskill sneaking off with them, I've got no one useful left around here." How had she missed all these people slipping away right under her nose? "When that girl gets back, she ain't escaping punishment this time."

Hosea chuckled, unsympathetic. "With that sort of reception, it's no wonder she took advantage of the situation."

"She should know her goddamn place around here. Same with Miss Jones, wherever the hell's she's at. The chores don't handle themselves."

"I'm hoping our stay here will be short-lived, as it were." Hosea closed his newspaper and set it upon the table. "I have Charles and Lenny out seeking us another location."

Susan bristled, thinking of all the work she'd put in the last twenty-four hours. "We just settled in!"

"And I'd tell you to pack it up now if I knew they were coming back with good news."

"Dutch didn't say nothing about moving so soon."

Hosea rubbed his chin. "Dutch is...preoccupied."

He could say that again. The pressure had been on him for a good long while. It was why she hadn't brought up the bad omen she'd uncovered upon their arrival to Beaver Hollow. But now that she had Hosea's attention...

"Mr. Matthews, there's something I gotta mention." She cast a look around to make sure no one was near and then slipped into the chair next to him. "Someone broke the money box."

His eyebrows rose. "That so?"

"I set it up like normal, but last night someone intentionally smashed it."

"Any chance it broke on the ride over?"

She fumed at him, "I ain't a fool, Mr. Matthews. I know what I saw."

It had been thrown to the ground and stomped on into oblivion. Splinters had littered the ground next to the barrel she had placed it. She'd cleaned it all up before anyone had awoke. That box had been sturdy and only a deliberate act of vandalism could have caused so much destruction. It'd had her on edge ever since.

"Perhaps it merely got knocked down when someone got rowdy last night and no one's willing to fess up to it and face your deadly wrath."

His attempt at humor only pissed her off. She hissed, "It was done intentionally."

"Was there anything missing from it?" Hosea asked, unafraid of the increasing sharpness of her tone.

She hesitated as that was the only reason she hadn't brought it to Dutch's attention. "No. No one's had time to contribute yet."

"Well, find another container for now. There's not much else to do about it."

Before Susan could continue the discussion, a voice from the entrance of the camp called out, "Hey, Dutch!"

Micah had decided to make an appearance and he wasn't alone. Behind him, two men drifted in his sauntering wake. Javier followed, rifle in hand and eyes narrowed on the trio. Bill, who had been moping over his damaged arm near the campfire ambled over to join the group.

Hosea stood as Dutch opened the flap of his canopied tent and stepped out. "What do we have here, Mr. Bell?"

"Dutch, I want you to meet some friends of mine."

Micah introduced them as Joe and Cleet. Up close, they looked like the worst sort of riffraff. Joe was the broad-shouldered one with long, greasy hair and a dirtied face, his squared jaw clenched tight and silent. Cleet was skinny, with a small frame and a crooked nose. He had a cleaner look to him and a narrower face, but a smirk that ruined any possible trust for the man.

There was no mistaking these bastards for anything less than thugs.

"Who are these men, Dutch?" Javier was the one to ask.

"They appear to be..." Dutch answered with no hint of a joke,. "...your new brothers."

Javier's frown deepened and Susan sucked in a breath in order to hold in an audible and shocked, What!

"You can't be serious," Hosea had no reservation in expressing his own disbelief. "And whose idea was this?"

"The boss man's, of course," Micah offered before Dutch could answer. "He calls the shots after all."

"Why are they here?"

"We're short a few guns."

Hosea shot back, "There's no truth to that."

Micah spread his arms and gestured at the camp. "I don't see anyone else 'round here to back that up."

Hosea ignored Micah in favor of speaking to Dutch directly. "Dutch, we're not short any men."

Micah's face grew thunderous at the exclusion. "Then where is everyone, old man? We're ready for a job and no one's around to offer their services."

Dutch scoured the camp with his eyes. Because of her own sweep, Susan knew what he'd see without looking.

Uncle sat on the ground near the campfire, drinking and unconcerned with anyone else. Pearson had obeyed her orders and was now cutting up meat to throw in the stew. Tilly sat in the grass near the women's wagon and entertained Jack.

...and that was all. Besides Javier and Bill, none of the other men were around to speak up for themselves.

"What's this job that needs all these guns to be present?" Hosea asked in reasonable tones.

"I already explained, Hosea," Dutch said. "Cornwall."

"The simple conversation already evolved into a shootout, has it?"

"There can still be a conversation. That will be his choice," Dutch said. "Either way, once Cornwall's taken care of, we'll be free."

"Dutch, this obsession with Cornwall hasn't made sense from the get-go."

"There is no 'obsession'," Dutch argued. "You ain't understanding the full scope of the plan."

"Perhaps you're right," Hosea conceded. "Why don't we sit and talk it out so I do? I wouldn't want to jump into anything we'll regret."

Dutch wavered and Micah broke in, "You questioning Dutch's decision-making, old man?"

Hosea snapped, "You stay the hell out of this."

Micah's interruption revived the distrust in Dutch's expression. Dutch followed up, "Are you?"

"I'm not against you, Dutch. I never have been."

"Do you agree or disagree that Cornwall needs to die for us to be free?"

Hosea said wearily, "I don't know the answer to that, but I do know if you smack at a bee hive, the hornets ain't gonna let you be."

"This is burning the hive, Hosea, and this is how it has to be done. Now," Dutch straightened. "Where's Arthur?"

Susan informed him, "He and some of the others went to Saint Denis."

"For what exactly?" Dutch asked angrily.

"To get Charlotte on her feet."

"Charlotte." A dark glint shimmered in his eye that she couldn't interpret. He demanded, "When's he getting back?"

Susan shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, Dutch. They didn't let me know."

"Alright. What about Lenny?"

"Charles took him hunting," Hosea said shortly, lying. She shot him a sharp glance and he didn't meet her eye.

"John?" Dutch asked, clenching his teeth.

Since he wasn't here either, Susan and Hosea shook their heads.

"Where the hell's everyone gone?" Dutch yelled, echoing her earlier sentiment even if he didn't know it.

"I told you, Dutch," Micah said, resting a sympathetic hand on Dutch's shoulder. "Ain't no one around. Ain't no one else who cares."

Dutch said fervently, "Arthur should be here. He should be here, with us."

Micah needled, "Kinda makes you wonder who he's really loyal to."

Susan wanted to slap that smug grin right off his face. She settled for saying defensively, "I'm sure if he knew he was needed, he would be here, Dutch."

"I'll come with you, Dutch." Bill offered.

"You can't even hold a gun right now," Dutch said with disdain, staring at the arm that had been sliced up by the Murfrees, "let alone fire one."

Micah suggested, "I got Joe and Cleet here, boss. They're just as good or better than Morgan."

Dutch eyed the two newcomers like that statement at least wasn't one he believed at its face.

Hosea cut in, "Take Javier."

"Do I have your approval now, Hosea?" Dutch asked in a mocking way.

"I still don't think there's anything to gain by going after Cornwall, Dutch. But there's no point in going in without one of us to help."

It was clear Hosea was drawing a line, which excluded Micah's friends from their side of it. Susan waited, tense though she couldn't explain why.

Dutch rubbed his chin in thought as they waited. "I'd prefer if Javier stayed and protected the family, just in case."

"Why not bring Joe?" Micah pushed again. "You can see for yourself his worth in a fight—"

"There's plenty here to watch camp, Dutch," Hosea talked over Micah in even tones. "We can spare Javier. Lenny and Charles will be back soon."

To tip the debate in their favor, Susan chimed in, "Not to mention, I know my way around a shotgun just fine, Mr. Van der Linde."

Dutch laughed a little, as if there were no tension between any of them. "Alright, Javier. It seems you'll be our third man. Reconnaissance first, of course." He turned to Hosea. "When Arthur decides to show up—"

"If he shows up," Micah supplied unhelpfully.

Hosea said sharply, "He'll be back."

"If he shows up," Dutch continued, giving in to Micah's wording, "ask him to join us in Annesburg by tomorrow afternoon. Otherwise, we're doing this without him."

"Go on, boys," Micah directed Joe and Cleet without invitation, "make yourselves at home while we're gone."

Dutch, Micah and Javier strode to the horses while Joe and Cleet ambled their way to the campfire, joining Uncle. Bill sulked away, frustrated and angered at being left out.

"You feel it too, don't you, Susan?" Hosea turned his head when they were alone. "Something's gone wrong here."

Between the broken contributions box and Dutch letting Micah pull in two strangers, she was inclined to agree. But she responded briskly, "It could be worse, given the circumstances."

"We're not just down on our luck anymore. It's more than that and I sense we're headed for worse."

"Mr. Matthews, there ain't nothing to fret about," she insisted.

"The law ain't never been this close to us for this long, even you have to admit to that."

He spoke too evenly, too calmly that she had to take his outspoken worries with the seriousness he projected.

"Perhaps," she admitted with mostly reluctance. "But Dutch has it under control."

Hosea fell silent a moment, watching Dutch from afar. He said quietly, "Since coming back, there's been a wall between us, a distrust in his eye I've never seen before, leastwise not centered on me."

"He's had a hard time of it."

"Denial, Susan?" Hosea lifted a brow. "I thought you more practical than that."

"There's no need for you to be making mountains out of mole hills, Mr. Matthews. We're back together and all we need is a united front."

"If only that truly was all we needed," he muttered and then followed that up by asking abruptly, "Do you know where Mr. Bell was yesterday?"

She narrowed her eyes on their new guests. "Since he brought those friends of his, I imagine out recruiting them. But I've had enough to do keeping those girls in line without keeping track of him too."

"Never did take to that bastard like Dutch has and his motives for sticking around have never been clear." The men had ridden off now so Hosea faced her. "When he returned, was Dutch able to collect the hidden stash he keeps away from camp?"

"I imagine so." Susan was somewhat puzzled over the question. Shouldn't he know? Hosea and Dutch were the only two who were supposed to know.

He must have caught the confusion in her expression because he explained, "It was information I was once privy to, but something's changed." Hosea sighed. "Though, truthfully, not always keeping you in the know of the money's location was certainly a mistake."

Susan tilted her head and studied him. "What do you mean?"

He told her with regret, "I heard how the family struggled in our absence and I'm sorry for it."

Hosea's apology caught her by surprise. While it was true that if she knew of Dutch's off-site location for the money they had saved up, they wouldn't have nearly starved. But, truthfully, it'd never been a thought for her to try and find it, even if they wouldn't have needed much. God forbid if the men had never come back, but if they hadn't, that money set aside thus far would have been lost to them all.

Hadn't Susan proved herself loyal enough to be part of a back-up plan should anything go awry?

The jobs weren't supposed to go awry, that was the thing. Never had they been in a position where so much had gone wrong for so long. Hosea was right, but it made her too uncomfortable to ponder over it and she wouldn't say anything, as she didn't want to feed into Hosea's concern that things weren't normal.

"Keep an eye out, Susan," Hosea told her before leaving her alone to her treacherous thoughts.

She frowned at his back. All she ever did was keep an eye out. However, with Micah's new friends in occupancy, she would stay close to Tilly and Jack this evening.

Why did it seem like the harder Susan tried to keep them all together and civil, the more they tore apart and fought?