Josiah rolled his pocket watch in his palm, comforted at its presence. He'd nearly lost it in that skirmish with those damnable bounty hunters back in Rhodes. And he had lost his favorite cane to them, before Charles and Arthur showed up to save the day.

Josiah flicked open the pocket watch as if he were checking the time. Rather, his focus was on the photograph inside, opposite the moving second hand. The whole of it was a gift from his wife. A rare occurrence as he was the one who usually brought home the gifts after his extended trips, not the other way around. But last year on his birthday his family had pleasantly surprised him.

The boys had burst into laughter when he'd opened the gift box and then took turns giddily explaining he needed a watch so he wouldn't lose track of time anymore. They thought it quite humorous to get one over on their old man, scampering off to fetch cake as he examined it.

While the boys had been distracted, Lydia had clicked open the watch to reveal the photograph inside. She'd stared up at him, her eyes dark pools of warm brown as she captured his gaze in the same manner that had captivated him the first time they'd met.

"More importantly, Josiah," his wife had whispered softly, "please don't lose track of us."

"I can't find Mary-Beth anywhere, Mr. Trelawny."

Josiah snapped the watch closed and stuffed it into his vest pocket, his memory dissolving as he straightened from his lean against the surrounding wall to the park.

Hoping Charlotte hadn't seen the contents inside the watch, he commented mildly, "Not an entirely unexpected outcome, as it were."

Charlotte's worried frown cleared. "What do you mean?"

"For as long as I've known Dutch and the people he surrounds himself, they never miss an opportunity for impulsive decisions and deal-making."

It was that portion of this dastardly life which made it so irresistible. He'd been guilty of taking part in more than one impetuous scheme made on the fly.

"That certainly doesn't do anything to ease my concern for Mary-Beth."

"She'll turn up," he said confidently and offered her his elbow. "In the meantime, might I suggest we carry on and wait for her at my quarters?"

Charlotte seemed reluctant to agree to that, casting another troubled gaze back into the park. But the trolley had paused across the road and it was loading passengers. He didn't want to miss it so he led Charlotte by the elbow towards the car and she ultimately went along with him. They boarded, sharing a seat near the back.

As the trolley chimed its bell and started to move, Charlotte asked him, "Do you have family here in the city, Mr. Trelawny?"

Ah, so she had managed to get a peek of the photograph before he'd closed the watch after all. As if it were no matter at all to him, he admitted with ease, "Indeed I do."

Lydia, Cornelius and Tarquin were long gone from Saint Denis by now, thankfully. However, Josiah wasn't pleased that lately so many of the gang were discovering the existence of his other life. He preferred to keep the two entirely separate.

Yet Charlotte knowing was infinitely less nerve-wracking than when Arthur had inexplicably found him, absurdly calling from the other side of his front door one random evening when he'd been playing the family man.

When Josiah had returned to camp, he'd fully expected to be confronted by Dutch, but Arthur had kept the discovery to himself. It was part of the reason Josiah had volunteered to help his friend Charlotte. He owed Arthur his discretion, even if the cat was mostly out of the bag at this point.

"How long have you been married?" Charlotte asked next.

"Several years," he told her.

She glanced at his hands and then tilted her head. "How much does you family know about what you do?"

He chortled. "Precious little, and I intend to keep it that way."

"Why hide it?"

"So many questions, Mrs. Balfour," Josiah admonished. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

"And satisfaction brought him back," she retorted. "Why do you say that as if you mean to threaten me?"

He laughed some at the forthright gall. "I would not dare threaten a lady, but you've seen enough, dear girl. And surely you've caught on to the sort of mischief we participate. If my wife knew exactly how I keep myself occupied..."

"She's stuck with you this long, hasn't she? Don't you think she's guessed at some of it?"

Josiah brushed some nonexistent lint off his sleeve. "Oh, she stopped making guesses as to what I get up to at the 'office' a long time ago. It was within both of our best interests for her to do so."

Charlotte asked, "A strange arrangement, wouldn't you say? To keep such secrets from one another?"

He caught her eye and countered, "If your husband had been involved in the criminal underworld, would you have wanted to know the particulars, Mrs. Balfour?"

"A moot point as Cal was the most honest man I've ever known." She sat back and, to her credit, gave his question serious thought. "Yet I suppose I see the conundrum. To live in ignorance of the truth eliminates the anxiety in knowing the dangers."

"Indeed."

"However, there must be some compromise to the equation," she argued. "Even without the particulars, I'd want to have a general sense of what my husband did. There is greater merit in sharing each other's burdens than carrying them separately."

If there were an actual 'office' for him to go to, life would be simpler, but would it be as entertaining? It was a quandary he'd had to battle ever since he'd met Lydia. He'd tried legitimate work for awhile, but when the boys were born, he couldn't make a substantial enough income to support them all and had fallen back on his old reliable means to maintain a steady profit.

Josiah eyed Charlotte, assessing her. Perhaps he was getting a glimpse now on what had captivated Arthur and later, the others, as to the charm of Mrs. Balfour. She was candid and unapologetic with her curiosity. She also seemed to like engaging in their world views and making them question what they were doing with their lives.

Josiah was saved from a response as the trolley driver slowed the car and called, "Courtenay Street!"

"This is our stop," he informed her.

Josiah stood and Charlotte followed him to the back of the trolley. They were the only two passengers to disembark and he offered his hand to assist her in stepping off.

Erring on the side of caution, he paused and examined the streets subtly before he led Charlotte down the sidewalk, stopping in front of a shop directly across from the perfume store where Javier and Tilly had went searching for him.

Beside him, Charlotte said, "Before I forget, I wanted to express my gratitude, Mr. Trelawny, for your help."

Surprised, he turned to look at her. "An entirely unnecessary measure, to be sure."

"I hardly know you and you've gone out of your way to assist me."

"If we're laying our cards on the table, I must confess my actions are less noble than they seem."

Her brows lifted. "Oh really?"

He explained to her, "It is not lightly a stranger is brought into the fold and it's always been Dutch who's chosen who is allowed in. Yet, somehow, you've nestled yourself quite closely to nearly all of our little troupe."

After the rumors Josiah had heard of an informant working against the gang, he'd thought Charlotte had been the prime suspect. Perhaps they'd gotten a little slapdash with their execution, but in his opinion, it wasn't until the camp moved to Shady Belle that the major slip-ups began. On nearly every occasion, they kept cutting it close with law enforcement. It had been about the same time Arthur had met this Charlotte woman.

"So, there was a question over my motives?"

The prospect seemed to amuse her rather than offend her. Now that Josiah had spent time with her, he thoroughly understood. She was the most unassuming woman he'd met in a long while, next to his own wife in morality and virtue. Charlotte had probably never even nicked so much as a peppermint from a sweet shop.

"One can't be too careful in who we trust these days," he said with regret.

"True enough," she agreed. "Fortunately, I've been lucky in that regard."

An odd sort of statement, given the company she'd taken up with today: a swindler, a petty thief and a thug. Ironically, the most trustworthy one of her acquaintances this afternoon had probably been the lawyer they'd met with, and him too new to the profession to be anything else. But give it time and Mr. Pierre would be as corrupted as the rest of them.

Worry lines sported over Mrs. Balfour's brow. "Oh, I do hope Mary-Beth—"

The door opened to the storefront where they stood. As if her given name spoken had summoned her, Miss Gaskill stepped onto the sidewalk, nearly colliding with Charlotte as she'd been saying farewell to someone inside and not looking where she walked. Mary-Beth laid a palm on Charlotte's shoulder to keep from tripping. A clear apology was on her lips until she recognized them.

"Charlotte! Trelawny! What great timing! How did you find me?"

Josiah tipped his top hat at her in greeting. "Pure luck and coincidence, in fact."

Charlotte was clearly relieved at her discovery, but she questioned, "Mary-Beth, why are you so far from where you said you'd be waiting?"

The slight reprimand in her tone did nothing to damper Mary-Beth's sudden sparkling merriness. She pressed her lips together for a brief moment before blurting out, "I've been offered a job!"

"A job?" Charlotte laughed lightly at the vehemence of Mary-Beth's exuberance. "Well, what happened?"

The girl flushed, cheery and animated as she gushed, "Apparently, Mr. Eugene had an assistant, but he was a man Angelo Bronte forced him to hire in order to keep track of his earnings and didn't do much work around the shop. After Bronte died, Mr. Eugene fired the assistant and he's been looking for some reliable help ever since. And he's hired me!"

Josiah glanced at the building, reading Eugene and Williams Booksellers. Ah, yes. He remembered the fellow. He'd become a crotchety old bugger when his partner Williams had died. Their kind and soft-spoken Mary-Beth had won over the old timer. No minor feat, as it were.

"You'll be working with books?" Charlotte commented with a smile. "You'll enjoy that."

Mary-Beth admitted, "Well, it's not ideal, but you haven't even heard the best part."

"Oh?"

"Not only does Mr. Eugene sell books, but he prints them too! If I can convince Mr. Eugene of my skill, he has the ability to print my works. I know you told me you know some folks, Charlotte, but this will be a direct line. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Charlotte answered. "Besides, I imagine you'll learn more from a hands-on experience. But how did you find out about this opportunity in the first place?"

While Mary-Beth went on some explanation of a strange man in the park with a business card, Josiah was distracted by Ralph, the newspaper boy, slinking up next to him, a canny look in his eyes.

Ralph removed a rolled-up newspaper from his bag and held it up to him. "Paper, mister? Real important news out of Washington, sir, that you're gonna wanna read."

Drat.

As Josiah had hired the boy for a dollar a week to keep him informed of any suspicious happenings in this area, he produced a dollar without hesitation. Ralph had earned it as he'd already given him a message with a few words: Pinkertons at the house. He swapped the money for the paper. It was a good thing Lydia had left the city with all their personal items weeks ago.

Josiah responded to Ralph in high spirits, "Good lad. And what's the date again?"

"The sixth, sir."

Six men. "Jolly good."

"It isn't the sixth," Charlotte commented as Ralph scampered off.

"No, it is not." Josiah said agreeably and gestured down the street. "I'm famished. In celebration of Miss Gaskill's success of the day, how about we dine in luxury this evening, ladies? My treat."

"I won't say no to a free meal," Mary-Beth accepted without question.

Charlotte eyed him oddly. "What's going on?"

"Come, come." He gently grasped their shoulders and turned them in the direction of the nearest restaurant. "Let's not dally. We wouldn't want to arrive in the middle of the dinner rush."

"What about Arthur?" Charlotte asked.

"I'm quite sure he'll manage just fine on his own, as he's always done."

Charlotte didn't appear too convinced, glancing back down the street as if trying to decipher what had gone wrong. Mary-Beth hooked her arm through Charlotte's and pulled her along, saying, "Don't worry over him. I just hope when he gets back he's in a better mood. He was so miserly on our whole ride here."

"Mr. Morgan was understandably anxious," Josiah said distractedly. As they walked, he opened the newspaper, his eyes scanning for a note. In small lettering, another associate of his had written, Room three, La Marque Hotel. It would be somewhat crowded for the four of them, but a sufficient enough hideout for the night and better than being ambushed.

"What would make Arthur nervous?" Charlotte asked curiously.

Josiah folded up the paper and tucked it under his arm as he revealed, "Why, as I hear it, he's meeting up with his lady love."

"Mary?" Mary-Beth burst out with shock. "What's she got to do with anything?"

"From what I've gathered, he means to procure a favor from her." Josiah shrugged as he lamented, "I suggested we instead get in touch with my own contacts in the city, but he doesn't trust them even though they've succeeded in every other missive I've asked of them."

Charlotte wasn't paying attention to his rueful complaining, as she'd narrowed her eyes on Mary-Beth, who'd gone uncharacteristically silent. "What is it you know, Miss Gaskill?"

Mary-Beth bit her lip. "I really shouldn't say."

A secret, was it? Now she'd piqued his own interest. He encouraged, "You may as well enlighten us, my dear."

"Well..." she swallowed. "Before we left, Tilly handed over Arthur's mail." She paused. "Except, we didn't hand over all of it. He...might have had a letter...from Mary."

Charlotte admonished, "How could you withhold his mail?"

Josiah, familiar with the antics of the young women at camp, raised an eyebrow. "You ladies read it over, I presume?"

Mary-Beth nodded guiltily. "It wasn't a pleasant letter."

"Mary-Beth," Charlotte chided.

"Believe me, I wish we hadn't touched it. It was the most heart-breaking thing I've ever read. Mary...she's given up on him." Mary-Beth lowered her head. "It wasn't just a note she penned. She'd sent back an engagement ring of sorts and a real nice photograph of the two of them. Tilly and I figured it was better if Arthur not have to deal with it yet, after everything that's happened the last few days."

Charlotte shook her head, clearly disappointed. "No matter your good intentions, that was not your decision to make. Those are his possessions to deal with as he sees fit."

Josiah put in, "And you might have warned the fellow."

"I didn't know he was gonna try and see her again so soon or I might have."

"He's gone straight to her without knowing her true feelings." Charlotte murmured, "Poor Arthur."

"Perhaps..." Mary-Beth said hopefully, "...she's already left town?"

"No, she ain't left town yet."

The group jumped as Arthur seemed to materialize from behind them, his expression unreadable except that he wasn't emanating any sort of bliss, like he would if he'd come back from a romantic tryst.

"You got that letter on your person, Mary-Beth?" Arthur asked, toneless.

Mary-Beth shook her head, fear in her eyes. "Tilly has it." She clasped her hands together, as if to appeal to his better nature. "I'm real sorry, Arth—"

"Don't," Arthur cut her off immediately. "I don't wanna hear it."

Josiah asked with care, "I take it the meeting was not productive?"

"No," he said shortly.

Josiah offered, "I believe my friend George—you know the fellow who so kindly drove the carriage to the ferry boat job?—has a sister who runs a boarding house. Perhaps Mrs. Balfour can—"

"I ain't got time to work on that right now. I got to get this meeting with the mayor over with first." He frowned at them. "Why ain't the three of you holed up?"

Josiah informed him, "I'm afraid the house has been compromised, Arthur."

"What!"

"No need to panic, dear boy. I have already arranged an alternate place to stay. I must say, it won't be as roomy as my own humble abode, but should prove satisfactory."

Arthur rubbed his temple. "God damn it. Will nothing go right today?"

"I suggest, we recuperate by sitting down for a little meal."

"Sure," Arthur answered, if rather unenthusiastically.

Josiah chose a modestly well-to-do bar and restaurant around the corner called Edmonde's Tavern. He picked a table and chairs furthest from the entrance. Charlotte and Mary-Beth ordered soup, he a lamb chop, but Arthur opted to skip food in favor of a whiskey.

"Tell us more about your apprenticeship, Mary-Beth," Charlotte said after their meals were served and she picked up her spoon.

Arthur paused in the middle of throwing back a second shot. "What's this now?"

"Mary-Beth's found herself a respectable job."

Arthur glowered at him. "I leave you alone for an hour and this is what happens?"

In his defense, Josiah responded, "Miss Gaskill is a capable young woman. I had no fear in her ability to prove herself resourceful."

"I didn't cause any trouble, Arthur," Mary-Beth promised.

Arthur sighed and took the swig of his whiskey he'd delayed. "What's this job then?"

Mary-Beth explained it to him, her earlier excitement brimming over again. Arthur listened without interruption, as she delightfully told them in fuller detail of her encounter.

When she was finished, Arthur asked her, "So, you settlin' in Saint Denis?"

"For now. Until something better comes along."

"So it goes," Arthur remarked with a hint of bitterness.

Charlotte asked, "Do you have lodging?"

"Mr. Eugene says I can rent for cheap if I clean out the room upstairs. I'll have the apartment above the shop to myself since he can't manage the stairs on his own anymore."

"What about everyone else?" Arthur asked her. "Don't you want to give them all a real goodbye?"

She hesitated. "I do, but...I've already said my goodbyes to Tilly and the other girls when I thought I was leaving with you."

"You need anything from camp you left behind?"

"No." Her hand dropped to her satchel. "I've got everything I ever need in my possession right here."

"Okay then." Arthur nodded, as if he were finally giving her his approval. "If you're sure you'll be alright."

"Of course, Arthur." Her eyes shone as her gaze drifted dreamily to the ceiling. "I can see a future again where I can make my aspirations come true."

Arthur fell out of the conversation after that while Josiah entertained the ladies with some short humorous tales he'd heard about the founding of Edmonde's Tavern ,which hilariously involved a bear that had escaped the circus. Soon after, they finished their meals and, as promised, Josiah paid for it all.

They exited the restaurant to discover night blanketing the town, yet the city dwellers persisted with the continuation of the day with gas lamps lit along the street. In this district, the well-respected men and women had retired for the night, but it was yet too early for the less savory to make an appearance.

Mary-Beth asked of them, "Would you three mind escorting me back to the book shop? I want to get started over there right away, if possible."

At her request, Josiah took the lead in order to avoid the main street where agents could possibly be lurking. The rest of them followed as he cut through the back alleys, greeting everyone they passed, in order to not seem threatening, as if this were a common outing.

"Isn't this dangerous?" Charlotte asked in a quiet voice, peering at the strangers in the night.

"Darlin'," Arthur drawled at the back of their little line. "I'm bigger and meaner than anyone we could run into here."

"Unless there's some truth to the tales people tell around here about vampires," Mary-Beth piped up with more excitement than fear.

Arthur scoffed at the claim. "Ain't no truth to that."

"You're probably right," Mary-Beth replied. "But, wouldn't it be something if there was?"

Charlotte murmured, "My, oh my, what a joy it must be to see the world through your eyes, Miss Gaskill."

Arthur said mockingly, "I reckon, you'd have a fine time of it if we ran into werewolves and dead men walking too."

"No need to be churlish, Arthur," Josiah joined in. "It's only a bit of fanciful musing."

Mary-Beth pressed, "You can't tell me you ain't seen nothing strange in the wilderness with all the traveling you do, Arthur."

Josiah glanced back in time to witness Arthur's first rueful smile of the evening. "Alright, you got me there. But I reckon it's more believable my brain's gone soft rather than any of that supernatural nonsense being real."

"Here we are," Josiah gestured down the alley, where they'd arrived at the backdoor to the book shop. "I hope you have a key, miss."

"Indeed, I do," she affirmed. She produced it and an apologetic smile for the company. "This ain't exactly how I thought my day would end."

"You sure you'll be safe here?" Charlotte asked once more.

"Absolutely."

Arthur told her, "Things go sideways with this business, don't you be afraid to come back. Your life is worth more to us than your pride."

Mary-Beth rested a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Arthur. I hope all the best for you, truly I do. You've been a good friend to me."

He nodded. "Same to you, Mary-Beth. You always been good at hearing out my griping."

"You'll write, won't you?" Mary-Beth glanced Josiah and Charlotte's way to include them. "All of you?"

They nodded, but Josiah wasn't much of a writer himself. Perhaps he'd pen a note in a few weeks to check up on her, but it wasn't an activity he liked to sit down and do on a regular basis.

Mary-Beth hugged them each in turn. Arthur gave her one final warning, "Stay out of trouble, if you're serious about goin' straight."

"Oh, I am."

"I understand your desire to sprout your wings, dear girl," Josiah told her, "as a songbird can't expect an appreciation of her talents, if she doesn't find herself the right listener."

Josiah flicked his wrist, fluttered his fingers, and to his small audience, he made appear a gray and yellow bird in his palm. He tossed it upward and it flew away with a little disgruntled chirp.

"What the hell—" Arthur shook his head. "You just been carryin' that thing around all day, waitin' for an opening?"

Josiah winked at Mary-Beth, who had always been the most appreciative of his little performances. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

As she seemed tickled even now, he had no regrets. She told him, "Ignore Arthur. I thought it was amazing."

Josiah performed a small bow and Charlotte offered to Mary-Beth, "I'll walk you to the door."

The women moved down the alley, in clear sight, while Arthur crossed his arms and leaned against the brick wall of the building while they waited. Josiah joined him as the women huddled and exchanged last minute private remarks to each other.

Josiah said, in a low voice, "Arthur, while we have a moment, there's something you should know."

"Why do I got the feeling I don't want to know?"

The man was inconceivably irritated, but it had to be addressed. "Have you spoken to Mr. Matthews by chance?"

Arthur frowned. "Some. Why?"

"Did he mention what my contacts have informed me of?"

"Just spit it out," Arthur said with disgust.

"It is our understanding that someone in the gang has been feeding the Pinkertons information."

Arthur uncrossed his arms and faced him, no longer distracted. "Excuse me?"

"It wasn't a coincidence bounty hunters showed up on Mrs. Balfour's doorstep, nor Pinkertons to mine, I imagine."

Arthur grabbed Josiah's collar in a sudden act of aggression. "Why the hell ain't you mentioned this sooner? Before we went gallivanting the furthest place from camp?"

"I was certain Hosea would have mentioned it to you."

Arthur released him, and ran a hand over his face. "Dammit." He cast his gaze back to Josiah. "You got any idea who it might be?"

"Well, since I heard there were no ambushes while you boys were away, I imagine one of you who left on that little boat trip."

"Micah," Arthur spat out with pure loathing.

Josiah shrugged. "As he hasn't been with you fellows long, he is the most likely candidate."

"No. He's the only goddamn candidate. All I've wanted to do since I met the bastard was string him up. Now I got enough of a reason to do it."

Remembering how Mr. Bell had made it his business to permanently attach himself to Dutch's side, Josiah pointed out, "Unless Dutch says otherwise, as we have no proof."

Arthur replied doubtfully, "Maybe Hosea's managed to straighten it out while we've been gone."

"I believe you're right to tread lightly on the matter, Arthur," As he seemed to be receptive at the moment, Josiah didn't hesitate in expressing his true thoughts. "I hadn't wanted to mention it to you, but, lately, some of Dutch's decisions have seemed...erratic, to say the least. That business with Angelo Bronte was much too publicly done."

Arthur rubbed his jaw. "You hear he wants to go after Cornwall next?"

Josiah frowned. "Leviticus Cornwall? That could prove crippling if it's not done with the utmost delicacy."

"You don't got to tell me twice." Arthur wiped a hand over his face as if he could wipe away all their problems by doing so.

"Everything all right?" Charlotte had finished her final farewells with Mary-Beth and joined them.

Arthur told her, "Just more bullshit I got to deal with."

"What do you need to do?"

"Let's finish our business in town and I can talk with Dutch about this rat tomorrow."

They caught the next trolley back to their horses. Mary-Beth wouldn't need a horse if she was living in the city so they stabled her mare for the night and then rode to their next destination, the mayoral residence across town.

Arthur crept silently down the side of the mansion, heading towards the back door while Josiah and Charlotte waited for him across the street. The meeting was short. Only ten minutes or so, Josiah calculated as he glanced at his watch while Arthur strode up to them.

Arthur didn't meet their eyes and he looked angrier than when he went in, his expression set in stone. Without any context, he mounted up and pointed at Josiah. "You familiar with Rue de Zacharie?"

Josiah was startled at being addressed so sharply, but he answered, "Of course."

"That's where I need to go."

He glanced at Charlotte. "Very well."

"Tell me where it is and then the two of you should get to the hotel."

"Nonsense," Josiah countered. "Rue de Zacharie is just up the block. Surely your business there won't take too long."

"I doubt that."

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Charlotte asked softly.

"Nothin'," he said, at first not seeming to want to explain. But his face twisted with unspoken turmoil that he couldn't hold in. "Only that, you can't trust no one. Mayor wants me to go after his deputy. As far as I've seen, Jean-Marc's only fault is bein' too damn loyal."

"Then why would the mayor ask you to do such a thing?"

Josiah told her, "Mrs. Balfour, this town is full of the mostly corrupt."

Arthur explained, "Jean-Marc knows what I am and he don't like me working so closely with the mayor."

Josiah, thinking of Lydia and how she'd left Saint Denis without question, commented idly, "Yes, we must be particular in who we put all our trust."

Arthur growled at him, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Just as I said." But Arthur's outburst had Josiah curious. He hadn't meant to make it personal, but something had hit a nerve there.

"What must you do, Arthur?"

"Mayor wants to have a chat with Jean-Marc. I gotta persuade him into a meeting so he'll keep his mouth shut."

The ride to Rue de Zacharie was short, but the silence between the three of them lengthened the ride. Charlotte was clearly uncomfortable with the situation Arthur had landed himself in, but didn't know how to combat it. Josiah knew Arthur too well to make any suggestions.

"Shit," Arthur exclaimed over the only sound on this end of town, the clattering of their horses' hooves on the pavement. His eyes had landed on a house ahead, where a man was unlocking his front door.

"There he is. Stay here," Arthur ordered as he jumped from the saddle and strode to his next victim.

To preserve her sheltered idea that their company was somehow her good luck, Josiah suggested, "You may want to turn your head, Mrs. Balfour."

She listened, facing him. "What does Arthur intend to do, Mr. Trelawny?"

"Something you'd find abominable, I daresay."

Her eyes snapped back to Arthur grabbing Jean-Marc by the collar and yanking him back from the door.

"No." To his surprise, she scrambled from her saddle and hurried up the street.

"Oh, dear," Josiah commented to himself and made to follow.

Arthur was already terrorizing his target. "Why you wanna go say those awful things about me, buddy?"

Jean-Marc, a sharply dressed chap, who had gone white as the porch columns, fell backward onto the ground, fear lighting his eyes. "Please, no."

"Word is," Arthur clenched his fists. "You've been running your mouth, 'bout the mayor and me."

"Please, I have done nothing," Jean-Marc begged, his French accent thickening.

"Best not make a big drama of things." Arthur raised his fist. "This is gonna hurt, but it's probably for the best."

"Arthur!" Charlotte reached the edge of the porch. "Stop. You don't have to do this."

"Stay out of it, Charlotte. This don't concern you," Arthur barked back, not looking at her, but he hesitated. "Get back to the horses."

"No."

Arthur snapped, "Trelawny, get her the hell out of here!"

A light inside brightened the windows and the door swung open, a figure standing just inside as a woman snarled, "Unhand him, you bastards!"

"Maggie, do not get involved with these ruffians. Get back inside."

"God damn it!" Arthur cursed, as now he had another bystander to deal with.

Jean-Marc stood from the ground and Arthur grabbed him. There was a tussle and whether intentionally or not, Jean-Marc slipped and fell in an attempt to free himself and was knocked unconscious against the porch railing.

The woman in the doorway lifted her arm and a pistol glistened in the light of the lantern in her other hand. "You stop right there or I'll shoot the three of ya dead."

As she was in direct line of the threat, Charlotte stopped and raised her hands in surrender. In the middle of picking up Jean-Marc's unconscious body, Arthur dropped him, alarmed to see Charlotte in the line of fire. But he could do nothing more as the woman hadn't stepped out of the house. He couldn't even attempt to disarm her.

Josiah, on the other hand, was not distracted by the gun because he thought he recognized the hissing voice of the woman in the doorway. He stepped onto the porch with a little hop. The woman lifted the lantern higher, causing Charlotte to turn her head and shut her eyes, but the light helped Josiah to confirm his suspicion as to the woman's identity.

He smiled broadly at the pistol-wielding maiden, tipping his hat just so as he exclaimed, "Ah, Miss O'Shea, what an absolutely marvelous delight to see you alive and well!"