As Jack's waking state finally evolved from unsettled fussing to even-paced breathing, Abigail released a sigh of relief. She slowed her hand movement of massaging circles over her son's back. She'd been silently willing him to calm into sleep for over an hour.

She eased away from him on the cot, but kept stilling her movements to be sure she hadn't disturbed him. When Jack didn't shift or wake, she stood fully with exaggerated motions in order to not make a sound until she was able to tiptoe stealthily out of the tent.

Abigail loved her son, she did. He was the best thing she'd ever created, but motherhood took its toll. Some days, Jack was the sweetest, silliest of boys who could melt her heart with a single grin. But other days were like today, where he'd become as unreasonably stubborn as his father and no amount of motherly tenderness and patience worked to soothe him.

It used to be a short nap would solve his fussiness. He'd wake refreshed and as her sweet child again. But ever since they'd left Lakay, Jack had taken on an aversion to naps. Ever since Milton fired on them and she'd had to wake Jack, yank him from his hammock, throw him to the floor, and cover up his body with hers as bullets pealed over them.

She wished she could erase the terror that now rose in his eyes whenever she told him it was time to go to sleep. Because of Milton's utter brutality, she may never be able to fully heal the scars of Jack's mind from waking to gunfire and chaos. Milton had taken her son's innocence and if she ever got the chance, she would make sure Milton paid dearly for that theft.

The situation also wasn't helped by the fact that when they'd so hastily abandoned Shady Belle weeks ago, Jack had had to leave behind most of his toys because she didn't have time to hunt around for all of them.

Abigail had grown to regret not trying harder. She hadn't realized so much of her son's peace of mind had been reliant on a few simple toys that were still missing.

"That boy finally settled down now?"

Abigail turned to find Hosea joining her side. "Yes. He needs it, but I can't let him sleep too long or tonight will be a worse time."

"You have no easy task."

"Could be easier," she said, annoyed, "if John were here."

Hosea lifted an eyebrow. "You know he's trying these days, Abigail."

Abigail sighed in an attempt to shed her irritability. "I know."

They were in a better situation, it was true. John was with them and finally willing and wanting to get them away. She had to keep clinging to those dreams. They had to survive this mess so they could make a real life for themselves.

Hosea continued, "Now that John's got his head on straight, I see only good things for you three."

"Can I get that in writing?" she asked wryly.

Hosea chuckled. "Would it make you feel better?"

Since she wouldn't be able to read it anyway, she guessed not.

"You look drawn out," Hosea remarked, suggesting, "Why don't you take some time for yourself this afternoon?"

She protested, "I can't leave Jack alone."

"I'll sit with him for awhile," Hosea offered.

She wanted to refuse the help, but the way Hosea asked, it seemed to her he'd welcome a sit-down for himself too.

"Alright," she conceded. "Just for an hour."

"Go on," Hosea shooed her. "Rest, occupy yourself. Run into town if you so desire."

That wasn't going to happen. From here on out, she wasn't straying far from Jack. They needed to be ready for when John said it was time to go.

"Thank you, Hosea."

Unsure how to keep herself occupied, Abigail started to walk. Now that she had a moment to herself, she wasn't sure what to do, even for an hour. Resting was the most likely option, but she'd slept better last night since John had been at her back. After their talk during the return trip from Rhodes, it had been easy to let her mind drift off blissfully after the promises John had made.

She wanted to do something productive. If she was a little more reckless, she'd go into town as Hosea had suggested and pick up some sweets for Jack. It'd be a nice distraction. But they needed to hold onto every penny. She couldn't waste money on anything, no matter how small.

"Are you alright, Miss Roberts?"

Abigail gained awareness of her surroundings again. She stood in the middle of camp, between the fire pit and the cave. Charlotte had stopped next to her, and she tilted her head, awaiting Abigail's answer.

"No, yes. I'm fine," she said. "Just thinking about Jack."

Charlotte glanced at her tent, a hint of concern furrowing her brow slightly. "Is anything wrong?"

"Well..." Abigail explained, "For one, ever since we lost Cain, he hasn't been as lively. Jack really loved that dumb dog."

Charlotte nodded. "They played well together. I wish we knew what happened to him."

"Oh, I know what happened," Uncle bellowed from today's claimed position at the table in front of Dutch's tent. "And it's about the worst thing that could happen. Ain't worth the knowledge."

Abigail frowned at him. "What are you going on about, Uncle?"

"I reckon someone did something to that poor pup."

Abigail rested a hand on her hip in disbelief. "Who would want to hurt a dog?"

"Micah Bell," Uncle announced boldly, loudly and without fear of anyone overhearing him. "Seen him kick the pup before. Killing can't be too far from a man of his ilk."

Charlotte's mouth parted, horrified. "How awful. Can that be true?"

Uncle was always full of it, usually making up all kinds of stories for the attention, but there was no twinkle in his eye with this claim. He wasn't trying to shock them. He was trying to caution them.

Uncle said sagely, "It's as true as the love my second wife had for me."

"Nonexistent?" Abigail cracked back.

Uncle clutched his chest. "You wound me, Miss Abigail. You believe a pretty girl couldn't love a poor bastard such as me?"

"I find it hard to believe a woman would love a fool such as you."

"As cold as the mountain's peak, you are. But you know what?" His bushy eyebrows wiggled. "I like that in a woman. Makes it all the more satisfying when I melt the ice in their heart."

"Oh, away with you," Abigail turned her back on him, continuing her conversation with Charlotte. "The short of it is, I wish I had something more to entertain Jack with and keep him from being so anxious."

There were books around, but it wasn't an activity he liked doing on his own yet and since Abigail couldn't read, she was more lost than him if Jack had any questions on it.

"Hell, if you're lookin' for somethin' for Jackie to play with, why don't you take a gander in that there cave?"

Abigail swung to face Uncle again and said sharply, "It ain't safe for him down there and don't you be giving him no ideas neither."

"I don't see no issue, but I wasn't gonna," Uncle said. "I only meant that I took a look-see down there myself and there's all kinds of things. Granted, the best of it's been picked through, but I mighta seen a stray toy or two."

Abigail thought that actually sounded promising, as long as she didn't contemplate too hard on the morbid origins of how the toys could have ended up there in the first place. "You wanna show me?"

"Uh..." Uncle floundered. "You know, I would go back down there, but that first time was enough." He made a show of stretching and rubbing his lower back. "All that traversing really made my lumbago flare up. I guess cave diving is one of them things I can only try once."

"You serious?" she asked in disbelief.

"It's a lifelong condition," he said with a sad shake of his head. "No cure, I'm afraid."

Abigail rolled her eyes. He was too much. And of what, she didn't know, but more than she could tolerate on a daily basis.

"I'll go down there with you," Charlotte volunteered.

"You sure?" Abigail asked doubtfully. "Might be a little treacherous."

Charlotte pointed out, "Hence why you shouldn't go alone."

"There you go, Abigail," Uncle said with satisfaction. "A lady accompanying a lady."

"And you ain't much of a gentleman, letting us go in by ourselves."

"Women are growing more independent by the day. I won't stand in the way of that. I'm open-minded."

"I think the word you're lookin' for is brainless."

"Ain't intervened with my living either way." Uncle jammed a thumb towards the tent nearest to the cave. "Dutch's got a lantern if you women wanna take that with you."

"I think I might," Abigail said since it was actually a sound suggestion. "Come looking for us if we don't turn up in twenty minutes, alright?"

"Oh, sure, sure."

While Charlotte waited outside, Abigail slipped into Dutch's tent, the sunlight muting as the door flaps fell back into place. Immediately, she regretted taking Uncle's counsel. She was snooping something terrible being in here and if the wrong person saw it, it might be hard to explain.

Abigail drew back her shoulders. It wasn't like she was stealing nothing, only gathering a measly old lantern. Dutch wouldn't be back anytime soon to notice it missing.

Unfortunately, Abigail didn't see the lantern right away, but she did notice for the first time the conveniences Dutch had at his disposal that the others didn't. There was a stove and his music box and half a dozen high quality hides there was no way he was making use of by himself.

She shook her head and started checking drawers. The first contained miscellaneous documents that didn't mean shit to her. The next held a full box of cigars and more papers with what she assumed was his scribbled handwriting. Among those items, she also passed over a skeleton key. An odd sort of trinket, but maybe Dutch had some sentimental value from something long ago.

Finally, in the bottom drawer standing up, Abigail found the lantern with other sorts of tools, a compass, watch, smoking pipes and a packet of matches. She used a match to light the lantern and rejoined Charlotte outside.

They stood at the cave's mouth a second as Abigail nearly reconsidered this task. "Is this a fool's errand?"

She meant it as rhetorical because of course it was, but Charlotte said, "I think if we can find a toy for your son it'll be just the distraction he needs."

Her and Charlotte entered the cave, the darkness immediately engulfing them despite the daylight they'd left behind. Uncle wasn't wrong about it being work to walk down here. The ground became a steep decline and Abigail might actually believe Uncle having pain for once.

While they carefully made their way further down, Abigail commented, "I gotta say, I didn't expect you to want to trudge down here in the dark."

"Oh?"

"You don't seem to be an exploring type is all."

"I've come to learn that there's always more to find in ourselves," Charlotte replied, lifting her skirts to step over some strewn bottles. "That being said, I had intended to seek you out today on another matter."

Abigail glanced at Charlotte, curious. "Is that so?"

"You see, I'd like to ask your assistance as a...hmm...a partner in crime, so to speak."

Abigail raised the lantern. "Partner in crime?"

Charlotte winced. "Perhaps that was a poor choice of words on my part, but I speak with the same sentiment in mind. I'd like us to...well...work together. Oh, I'm bungling this horribly." Charlotte took in a breath and released it. "Let me try again. I realize all of you are friends here, but you're close with Arthur, aren't you?"

Wondering what she was getting at, Abigail told her, "I reckon so. Known each other long enough and he's a decent man. Is there a reason you're asking?"

"To be perfectly honest with you, Miss Roberts, I fear for all of you."

Abigail came to a halt. "What do you mean?"

Charlotte explained, "It's one thing to be wanted by local law enforcement and quite another to be targeted by the Pinkertons."

"Believe me, I've noticed the difference."

"Most of the others want to carry on as if nothing were wrong, but this size of a group is surely too large to miss. It begs the question as to where it will all end."

Abigail started walking again because Charlotte's observations spoken out loud made her uneasy, as if saying them would make them come to pass. Nothing could happen until after her, John and Jack got out. The Pinkertons had to hold off.

Charlotte caught up with her and didn't ease her onslaught of plainspokenness. "Karen says you've been trying to convince John into leaving for a normal sort of life."

"Karen told you that?" Abigail said sharply.

"I'm sorry." Her face fell. "Was that a secret?"

"It ain't so much a secret, but I don't want just anyone knowing our business."

"My apologies."

"Go on then," Abigail prompted. "You said you wanted to work together on something."

"Oh. Yes." Charlotte continued, "From what I gather, you haven't left sooner because you need John to join you."

Abigail nodded. "And we need money."

"I assume you mean to depart any day now. Therefore, you must have convinced him."

She shifted, uncomfortable having it out in the open, even though there was no one else down here with them. "What's your point?"

"What did you say to succeed?"

Surprised, Abigail asked, "What do you mean?"

She elaborated, "How would one go about convincing Arthur of the same?"

"Convince him of leaving?"

"Yes." Charlotte's brow furrowed. "As far as I've seen, he hardly ever takes a break."

"Doesn't seem like he ever needs one." Abigail wished John had half the motivation to get shit done as Arthur did. "Arthur likes to keep moving and keep busy."

Charlotte said ruefully, "He does indeed do a lot of work around here."

"I suppose he does." They all did. It was how they lived.

"But how can I get him to slow down?"

"Slow down?" Abigail laughed a little. "Seeing as Arthur's as pig-headed as they come, I don't see it as something you can just talk him into."

"Darn. I was afraid of that."

As Abigail considered Charlotte, she realized the woman's motives were clear and always had been. From day one, she'd been trying to help out where she could. What other reason could there be for her to stick around? The woman had to be smitten.

Maybe Abigail hadn't warmed up to Charlotte right away because she saw Charlotte as a judge, an outsider looking in and witnessing her fail as a mother to keep her son safe and fed right. But, somewhere between Charlotte continuing on with them to Lakay and abandoning Saint Denis for Beaver Hollow, Abigail had grown to accept her. Whether she liked it or not, Charlotte was one of them now.

They reached the bottom of the cave where there more crates and broken down wagons. It would be the most likely place to start their search. Before they did, Abigail had to speak her own truth to Charlotte.

She rested a hand on Charlotte's shoulder. "It's not nice what happened to you, that landed you with us, but I'm glad you're here now.."

"It's been my pleasure."

"I don't think it has been, with all that's gone wrong, but you've kept the sanity around here." Abigail squeezed her in a short hug. "While I'll always be Arthur's friend, I can tell you care deeply for him, in a way I never could."

Charlotte began a startled protest, "That's not necessarily—"

Abigail said firmly, "I'm glad he's found someone he can trust. Someone who can get close enough to provide him what he needs."

Charlotte fell silent a moment, staring at Abigail, searching her eyes for sincerity. Charlotte promised, "I'll do my best."

"And I'll try and figure out how to help you with Arthur." Abigail stepped back. "Now, let's see if we can come up with something for Jack."

They started their hunt, Charlotte taking the right side of the area and Abigail the left. Abigail still had the lantern, but there was natural light coming from the cavern ceiling down here. The first thing that caught Abigail's attention was the small fire burning low near a wagon, as if it had been neglected for hours. It struck her as odd. Why had someone lit it in the first place?

As she approached, a metallic shine glanced off the lantern's light. It came from under the wagon and had her curious.

"I may have found something." Charlotte made her way over and held up a dirty wooden toy. It was a train painted black and red. "It needs a wipe down, but do you think Jack would like it?"

"Yes," she answered distractedly, squinting into the darkness and trying to spot what was under that wagon.

Charlotte stood beside her and peered in the same direction. "What do you see?"

"I ain't sure exactly." Abigail walked over, crouching in front of the wagon. Two boxes obscured the majority of her view, but that same metal glinted once again. She had to see what it was. "Help me move these."

Her and Charlotte removed the two crates. When Abigail knelt again, the lantern revealed a chest slid sideways underneath the wagon.

"How intriguing," said Charlotte. "I feels as if we've been dropped alongside Jim Hawkins and on our way to discovery of buried treasure."

Abigail didn't know nothing about a man named Hawkins, but she believed Charlotte was right about it being treasure. She recognized this chest because she'd seen it once before.

First, she was overcome by a wave of shock. No, Dutch wouldn't do something so idiotic. He always kept the majority of their earnings in a separate spot, away from camp so it could be easily retrieved should they run into trouble.

The chest stared back at her, proving her a fool. Or, he'd said that's what he'd done.

Yes, Dutch would be that idiotic.

Incredulous rage took hold of Abigail then. She lost all trust in Dutch when Jack went missing, but this kind of carelessness was on another level. They'd all put their lives in his hands. She'd put her son's life in his hands. And he'd made this kind of a mistake?

This chest was supposed to be far from camp and well hidden. This was neither. Should the Pinkertons catch up to them in Beaver Hollow, how would they move this in a rush?

Charlotte attempted to open the chest and said with disappointment, "Darn. It appears to be locked."

Abigail suddenly knew the purpose of that skeleton key among Dutch's possessions and it sent her mind racing. That he didn't have it on his person sprouted a cunning idea and her original rush of fury subsided. Were she to nab the key, that money could be theirs.

Her dreams came into focus in that moment and she could see with clarity in her mind's eye, herself, John and Jack living happily and without worry in a house of their own. They could still work, if they wanted, but they wouldn't be risking their lives and Jack would have a proper education.

"Abigail, are you alright?" Charlotte asked her.

Abigail dropped back into a realistic mindset. She couldn't leave without John. She could do nothing until they were all ready. She'd have to hide what she knew or Dutch could become suspicious.

"We have to put the crates back," Abigail ordered, pushing one into its former location while Charlotte managed the other. She told Charlotte, "You can't tell anyone we found this."

Charlotte's eyes widened. "Why? Do you know what it is?"

"I do."

Charlotte glanced back at the chest's location. "Do I want to know?"

"If Dutch knew you'd been down here and seen it, there's no telling what he might do."

"Alright," said Charlotte. "I'll forget I ever saw it then."

Abigail released the tense breath she'd been holding. She'd have to trust Charlotte fully now or she'd be just as damned. Not only was the location of their saved up camp money dangerous knowledge to have, but so too was it dangerous if they let it out. Dutch had lied to them. What would be the consequences of that?

"Come on. Let's get back."

Abigail led the way, her mind too full of plans and apprehension to make conversation. If John was here right now, they could take what money they needed and be away tonight. Their troubles would be over, her worry would disappear and they'd be free.

As they returned to the bright sun of the noon day, Charlotte said, "I'll clean this train and drop it off at your tent a little later."

Abigail nodded, still distracted. She doused the lantern's flame and started towards Dutch's tent to return it. She set it in the drawer it came from, but paused before leaving.

She was entirely too tempted to steal the chest key. She'd feel so much better having it in her hands now, but she couldn't risk Dutch finding it missing until they were long gone.

Lost in thought, Abigail opened the canvas flap of the tent and wasn't expecting to come face to face with Micah.

"Miss Robertsss," Micah hissed her name, elongating it unnecessarily. "What are you doing sniffing around Dutch's tent? You wanting to warm his bed now that O'Shea's out of the picture?"

Since she hadn't done anything except return the lantern, she snapped, "Of course not."

"You know..." Micah sidled closer to her when she tried to move around him. "My offer still stands, Abigail. I could show you a real good time. I always fancied a more experienced woman myself. They know things. And they don't cry when things get...rough."

She spat out, "You're vile."

His yellow mustache lifted as he smirked. "And you're breaking my heart, sugar pie."

Where Uncle was playful and harmless with his flirting, Micah's banter always felt slimy, no matter the false compliments. And he always looked like he was trying to picture her without clothes.

"Let me by, Micah," she pushed his chest to get him away.

Instead, he seized her wrists, trapping her between his body and the tent. If he thought she was afraid of him, he had another thing coming. She'd raise hell before she ever let him get anywhere.

"Lay off her, Mr. Bell," snapped Miss Grimshaw, suddenly turning up behind Micah.

Micah grinned down at Abigail. "Ain't nothin' going on that she ain't been asking for."

"Is he bothering you, Miss Roberts?"

Abigail glared at Micah. "Always."

"Mr. Bell. Let her go now." Abigail had never been so grateful to hear Grimshaw's ferocious screech.

Micah finally released her, and kept his hands up as he backed away. "Just having a little fun, Grimshaw."

"You can have your degenerate fun with the poor women in town. It's what you pay them for."

Micah didn't answer that except with his nasty chuckle. Abigail turned to Grimshaw in relief.

"Thank you, Miss—"

Grimshaw clutched Abigail suddenly and sharply by the chin, her fingers digging into her cheeks like claws as she led Abigail around the backside of the tent where they couldn't be seen.

"Listen to me, you ungrateful whore, I know you weren't snooping in Mr. Van der Linde's personals." Her grip tightened. "Because if you were, I'd have to have a word with Dutch, and he'd wanna deal with you in a way you ain't gonna like."

Miss Grimshaw released her and swept away as if she hadn't done a thing. Abigail massaged her cheeks, pissed. She hadn't been mistreated by Miss Grimshaw in a long time, and she had half a mind to get into it with her. But she couldn't cause trouble now.

When Abigail moved around the tent, Micah was standing in the center of camp making a speech, but no one seemed to be paying him any mind.

"...things is fine here. You whiners just don't know how good you got it. I've been in real tight spots, worse than this. And I've had rope around my neck more than once. The Pinkertons don't scare me. Nothin' we're up against does."

"Well, I'm scared," Tilly, one of the few sparing her attention, spoke up bravely.

"Just proves you ain't meant to be here among the men. Maybe you should scurry on your way, like the rest of the useless deadweight that's left us."

Javier stood from the ground, setting aside the guitar he'd been picking at. "Let it alone, Micah. No one's going anywhere."

At Javier's interference, the others in camp perked up, as if they smelled the fight coming.

Micah dropped his head back in exasperation. "All I've heard since I joined up with you lot is moaning and crying when you don't get your way. Dutch ain't your daddy, he's your boss. You all seem to forget that's how it is."

"You're wrong," Javier insisted. "We are family."

"Dutch and I got a good thing going and we don't need no one ruining what's we got planned."

"Why don't you enlighten us on the plan, Mr. Bell?" Hosea had joined the discussion. "Ever since your hand's been in the metaphorical pot, we've been in nothing but trouble. If you shoot up every town we pass by, we're gonna run out of America to settle."

Micah eyed Hosea a minute, a sneer forming on his mouth. "Ease up, old timer. Ain't much to settle 'round here anyway except shitholes."

"So you've been around?" Hosea asked calmly, but there was an edge on his words. "I see you've come back without Bill. Somewhere else you needed to be?"

"It's called delegating, old man," Micah replied, a sudden temper rising. "Unlike you, I don't got to hover over my own men to make sure the job gets done. My boys, and Williamson can handle a little wagon theft."

"It still begs the question as towhere you've been in the meantime."

"No." Micah's eyes narrowed. "I don't think it does."

"I think when Dutch gets back, you, me and him should have a little sit down and discuss the upcoming plans you two have apparently figured out."

"Maybe we should, old man. Then you'll see whose ideas Dutch is more keen on."

Hosea stared him down. The tension in the air intensified as Micah took his ground, glaring one by one down the line at everyone present.

Javier had casually drawn a small knife, Pearson held his meat cleaver and Uncle clutched a beer bottle, but his eyes were steady and watchful for once. Grimshaw scowled, Charlotte lifted her chin in defiance and Tilly refused to break eye contact.

All the way down, Micah would find no allies in the gang members currently present.

Micah's leer lingered on Abigail and she crossed her arms and returned a glare, unwilling to be cowed by the likes of him. Maybe there weren't many fighters here to challenge him of it came to blows, but he was more than outnumbered when it came to willpower.

His eyes still on Abigail, he spat, "You ain't nothing." He swept his hand around. "None of you. All I need is the word from Dutch and I'll make sure you know it."

"He wouldn't do that," Javier said confidently.

"We'll see." Micah cast one last sneer to all of them before he wandered away, turning his back as if to prove he had no fear of them.

Once Micah made himself scarce, the rest of the camp went back to how they'd been occupied beforehand. Abigail crossed the camp to check in on Jack, who'd just woken up from his nap. Eventually, Charlotte stopped by the tent as she'd promised, handing off the train.

Jack's eyes widened and he latched onto the toy as Abigail prompted him, "What do you say, Jack?"

"Thanks, Miss Charlotte," he said quickly. He rushed away, finding a place in the grass to push the train and make accompanying train noises.

When Pearson called out that dinner was ready, Bill, Joe and Cleet made an appearance. The three of them headed straight for the pot and Javier joined them in conversation.

By dusk, Dutch and Sadie came riding in. Dutch marched to his tent, seeming distracted even as he greeted everyone he passed. His arrival had Abigail tensing, as if she expected him to come storming out in a rage, even though she'd done nothing to betray his trust. Yet.

Sadie passed by where Abigail and the other women were finishing up some sewing before all the sunlight had disappeared.

"Hey, Sadie," Tilly called. "Come join us."

Sadie leaned against the wagon. "Hi, girls."

"How'd it go in town?" Tilly asked.

"Colm's dead," Sadie told them with certain satisfaction. "And a few more of his boys along with him. Speaking of, is Karen around?"

"She's out getting horses with John and Lenny."

"She'll be back in the morning." Abigail added. So would John.

"She said she'd help me finish wiping them O'Driscoll's off the map."

"I hope you'll wait for her to come back," said Tilly. "I think her staying busy is keeping her off the bottle."

Charlotte asked Sadie, "Where's Arthur?"

"He said something about heading over to Annesburg."

"What for?"

"Damned if I know. He's probably just checking to see what kinda mess those other boys left."

Sadie pushed off the wagon she'd been leaning against and said, "Think I'll take over for Charles as guard so I can see when Karen gets in."

Sadie started walking away and Tilly called out, "Sadie, ain't you gonna rest?"

Over her shoulder, Sadie threw back, "I'll sleep when they're dead."

Tilly shook her head. "I swear that woman is running only on pure hate."

Abigail commented, "Sometimes, that's the only thing that can keep us going."

Abigail left the conversation after that, spending the next few hours taking care of Jack. She served him dinner, sat him at the table and then led him back to their tent. He sat in her lap and they looked at a picture book together by candlelight. She rocked him in her arms until he fell asleep, a much easier ordeal than this afternoon.

Once she had him under the blankets, she quietly tidied up the tent, setting aside the clothing that would need washing in the morning. As she picked up one of John's shirts, she impulsively lifted it to her face and closed her eyes, breathing in the horse, leather and gunpowder smell. It must have been the one he'd been wearing when they'd been on the train firing back at the Braithwaite cousins.

John was out there somewhere, probably making more trouble than money, but she prayed then and there he'd make it back to them safe.

Outside the tent, Abigail heard Hosea cough, a sound growing worryingly familiar and frequent by the day. She set aside the clothes she held and left the tent.

Sitting alone in front of the campfire, Hosea stared at the flames with focused concentration, absently rubbing his injured arm.

Abigail approached him and greeted warmly, "How are you doing, my dear friend?"

He looked up and acknowledged her with a small smile. "'Bout the same as always, maybe worse."

She glanced at his arm. "That broken wing of yours bothering you?"

"It's healing slower than I expected," Hosea admitted. "Perhaps I should've gone to a real doctor after all instead of leaving my care up to Josiah."

"I've been hearing you coughing more at night," Abigail said with concern. "Have you seen a doctor for that?"

He waved her off. "I've told you before. It's just old longs getting in the way of it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Getting in the way of breathing?"

Hosea released a wry, but tired grin once he gained control of another cough. "Won't be long now, my dear."

"You've been saying that for years," she replied dismissively.

"Death is inevitable for all of us, but a few can make a choice in how they want it done."

"Stop talking like that," she snapped.

He lifted his good shoulder. "We must face the music some time, Abigail."

She ignored that. "You told me you think there's a way out of here."

Hosea scratched his chin. "I think it can be done for you, John and Jack. You've got a good-looking family and you're both resourceful. As long as you can manage not to slip into bad habits anymore."

"That's all John does," she said sourly.

Hosea chuckled. "And you'll keep setting him straight over and over because you love him."

Abigail didn't deny it even though most days she wanted to throttle John to get him to listen. "He's lucky I bother."

Hosea really was a true friend. She'd never known what the love of a real father looked like, but whenever she spoke with Hosea, she felt a deep comfort like from no one else. She'd gone to him for advice in Colter, after they escaped Blackwater and John had still been missing. He'd told her, "Think of the boy and make plans."

She hadn't stopped making plans since. The only obstruction she'd had for awhile was John's unwillingness to leave. But now, the timing was finally right.

Hosea started to cough again and she watched with growing fear. In the same way this outlaw life was no longer a fit for her family, it wasn't ideal for aging Hosea anymore either. Abigail decided what she needed to do then and there.

Come hell or high water, when it was time for her, John and Jack to leave all of this behind, she'd make sure Hosea would be coming with them.