Hosea had decided he was getting rid of this sling today, even though the arm was still tender and bruised. He'd been injured weeks ago, but damn if the thing didn't want to mend. However, Hosea needed to discard it because of how Dutch looked at him, seeing his injury as weakness and brushing off his concerns.

But today, Hosea was determined to make Dutch listen to reason. They had to move the family and they might even have to split up to do it, a notion Dutch had never been agreeable on, even when he'd been reasonable and before he'd started killing oil magnates in broad daylight.

It was time, and overdue for them to move on. Gangs as large as theirs didn't last this long being chased, and they'd been damned lucky this far. If they weren't careful, they'd end up in a fatal shootout with Milton's army of government stooges and the casualties on either side would be unthinkable.

Hosea couldn't let that happen. If it took his last dying breath, he was getting everyone out safe. He just wished every conversation with Dutch didn't turn into an uphill battle. Truth be told, it'd been like that since their first argument decades ago, but these days Hosea gave in easier. Maybe it was his own fault for catering to Dutch all these years, always relenting when he didn't want their clashing to escalate.

Bessie used to scold him for conceding to Dutch on too many occasions. She'd been right, of course. She'd been right about most things, but he'd always been too slow to take her advice. The funny thing about Bessie was she'd been willing to point out their weaknesses, but ignored her own.

Even before they were married, Bessie had traveled with the gang. She was fine when they set up camp, but Hosea found out soon enough she couldn't handle the constant traveling. The moving made her ill for days on end, but she never complained.

Hosea had never faulted her for it. There were some people not cut out for hard living. But this was Bess. So, he'd made one of the hardest decisions of his life. He decided to retire.

Hosea said goodbye to the boys, took his earnings and found Bessie a little cottage built solidly in the middle of a golden field of whey. They'd been happy for awhile, quiet living suiting him when he had a wife to share it with.

But it wasn't long until Dutch came around, casually mentioning the con they were working on and tempting him into getting back in with the gang. It had started simple enough, with Dutch only wanting a second opinion, but more and more Hosea was pulled in until he'd started spending days away from Bessie to oversee multiple jobs. His growing absences was what his last disagreement with Bessie had been about.

"Can't Dutch manage a week without you?" Bessie had rested her palms on his chest, staying his exit from their little house. She'd softly pleaded, "Stay home another few days, Hosea."

He'd tried to reason with her, "I'm going to bring back enough money for us to live comfortably the rest of our lives, Bess."

"But we're already living comfortably." She tugged his lapels and stood on her tiptoes. "I just want you here, with me."

The memory of her peppermint breath whispering over his lips now haunted and mocked him more than it comforted him. Idiot that he was, he'd left her that day, as he'd been slipping back into the game again little by little. Her pleading for him to stay hadn't been entirely fruitless. He'd spent a shorter amount of time away, working a con with Arthur as they posed as collection agents. As soon as the money was in hand, he'd skirted back to home, passing up on a celebratory night with the boys to eagerly have Bess in his arms again.

His haste had been for naught. Bessie had passed away in his absence. He found her in their shared bed clutching their wedding photo. Since there was no foul play evident, he could only speculate as to what happened.

Bessie told him once that a doctor had diagnosed her with a weak heart as a child. But since she'd survived the rest of her childhood without mishap, she hadn't let it get in the way of trying for a normal life.

Bessie had died in her sleep, but to this day, Hosea wasn't sure if she hadn't actually died of a broken heart over his neglect. He'd drunk himself stupid the next six months, but somehow he'd found his way back to Dutch. And somehow, he'd gone on without her.

Why hadn't he stayed with Bessie? What could have possibly lured him from having a soft retirement with a woman who loved him? He tried to tell himself it was because he believed in the cause, in doing what was right for the gang's prosperity, and remaining free from the long reach of the government.

But that wasn't true. Hosea had believed in Dutch van der Linde. To a fault, he saw now, and he wished he had gained wisdom at less of a price.

Hosea had a lot of time to think while stuck healing at Josiah's house. The explosion in Saint Denis had nearly done him in for good. With every hour of healing, he'd also felt the closeness of the grim reaper's skeletal hand. He'd mulled over his regrets, of how he'd lived his life and how he wanted it to end. It got him to thinking of how he wanted to spend the time he had left and he'd pulled out of that mishap too.

Hosea needed to get the others out safely, especially the women and little Jackie. He needed it done before it was too late to help any of them, but with Dutch's push back it hadn't been easy, as their leader was in denial of anything other than a good turnaround.

Hosea always went back and forth in thinking Dutch a dangerous madman or a clever conman. Since the repercussions of Dutch's impulsive attacks hadn't netted them yet, sometimes Hosea started believing he was on to something after all.

Hosea shook his head. Or maybe he was getting senile enough these days to be convinced of Dutch's nonsensical reasoning.

Hosea was without any companions this morning. Pearson had taken to sleeping in late and drinking by himself lately. And Susan? She'd been highly strung since they'd landed up here in Beaver Hollow, but when he'd brought up the idea of moving, she had refused to sit down and have a pleasant conversation with him. She was avoiding him out of denial of their dire predicament rather than spite so he didn't have hard feelings over it.

So it was alone, that Hosea made a kettle of coffee, pouring himself a cup when it had finished. He sat at the table, perusing by gas lamp the newspaper Arthur and Charlotte had brought back from Saint Denis.

By the time the vestiges of dawn had started making an appearance, Hosea had begun his second cup of coffee. At the edge of camp, Arthur came trudging in, replacing his journal in his satchel as if he'd been writing in it. It didn't seem to have improved his mood any if he had, as Arthur looked worse than when he'd left. His brow furrowed deep under his hat and his mouth pressed downward in a grimace.

"Arthur," Hosea greeted. "How was your adventure in Saint Denis?"

Arthur changed direction from his tent to sit down in the chair next to him. "Dutch ain't told you?"

"I haven't seen much of him once he got back. He snagged a beer bottle and took refuge in his tent all of last night."

Arthur sighed. "It's been more misadventures than anything whenever I step foot in Saint Denis. But the three of us made sure Colm swung alright. Only stirred up a little trouble with his boys afterwards, but it seemed like there'd be a fight, even if we weren't there. Maybe we were right to interfere. Otherwise, Colm woulda got free again like Sadie said."

"Could be."

"And after all that, now she's wanting me to go with her after a bunch of them that's holed up in the Grizzlies." Arthur shook his head. "I know she's hellbent on paying back what they took from her, but I don't got it in me anymore."

It was contradictory to what Arthur had been spouting only a week ago. Hosea eyed him with curiosity. "You saying you're finally ready to hang up your hat?"

"I don't know. What I really need is a vacation." Arthur rolled his shoulders, eyes trailing across the sleeping camp. "What you got cookin' up around here?"

"Nothing much, unfortunately," Hosea admitted. "We had a visit from two Natives. One claimed to know you. Eagle Flies?"

"Eagle Flies, huh? Yeah, I know him. I stole some documents out of Cornwall's factory for him before we got shipped off to Guarma. Made a decent bit of money for that job. What'd he want this time?"

"He wants your help in fighting off the army."

"Fight the army?" Arthur looked taken aback. "I knew there was trouble, but what the hell is that kid thinkin'?"

"He's doing what he thinks is best for his tribe. But, so is their chief, if I understand it right. Though he's chosen a more passive route. Two sides of the same coin, as it were."

Arthur turned contemplative. "Can we do much for them?"

"Charles would know best. Seems he's caught in the middle of father and son. I had Lenny and Karen recover their vaccines in exchange for a new and safe camp location. But we can't associate with them too much or we'll put a target on our own backs."

Arthur nodded, rueful. "No doubt. It's a bad situation."

"In the meantime, since we ain't busy, I sent John to speak to Seamus about collecting horses to replace the ones that were stolen off them."

"You sent Marston to catch horses?"

Hosea chuckled. "I thought you'd get a kick out of that."

Arthur said with disgust, "He could hardly move sheep, how you expect him to gather horses?"

"You don't put enough faith in him. I wouldn't have sent him if I didn't think he couldn't manage."

"If you say so," Arthur replied with clear doubt.

"Other than that, I don't have much for jobs to speak of. Because of what Charles has said about Van Horn being a Pinkerton base at the moment, if there was anything prospective, we can't get to it. We don't have a lot of options. And Annesburg, well, we won't be able to salvage much down there now."

Arthur said with determination, "The sooner we find ourselves somewhere else, the better. Ain't safe for us out here."

Hosea wholeheartedly agreed and was glad Arthur seemed to be on the same page as him, though he wasn't yet sure what had happened to get him there. It must have been something in Saint Denis only recently, since before Arthur left, he'd been joking about them being in their prime.

"I hear you planned to stop in Annesburg. Did you see anything we can work with?"

Arthur fell unexpectedly quiet a moment, looking down and took to examining the wood grain of the table. "I ran into a woman down there. One I wronged."

Hosea tilted his head, interested at the shift in Arthur's expression returning to the same as when he'd first stepped into camp. "Then I daresay she wasn't too happy to see you any."

"Her husband was one of them who was in Herr Strauss' book. I went after him and when he died, I collected from the wife. Nowadays, it seems to survive she's had to send her boy down the mines and sell her body for the rest."

Hosea listened, finding Arthur's deep involvement with complete strangers very interesting. Hosea hadn't liked the addition of Strauss' side business, but he hadn't discouraged it. Mostly, he found it too personal and risky an endeavor to engage in. He'd take pulling one over on a wealthy banker than emptying the pockets for pennies from a desperate man. Desperate men were dangerous and unpredictable in this business.

Arthur went on, "When I went down there, I found her kid workin' and pulled him out. Found the Downes widow and saved her from gettin' murdered, I reckon. Then I handed them a handful of bills and told them to get themselves away."

"Sounds like the family's earned the pity, but why do you find yourself so entangled with them?"

Arthur stared into the trees as he fell into silent reflection and Hosea let him think. He always ribbed Arthur on being more brawn than brain at times, but it wasn't his sincere belief. Arthur wasn't as dumb as he liked to let on. As he'd gotten older, he'd proved he'd gained some wisdom too.

"She looked at me like..." Arthur released a ragged breath. "Like I am, what I am. A killer seekin' salvation."

Hosea murmured, "Sure explains your desire to help the two of them."

"I know, but I don't want savin'."

"No?"

"I just want to help a few folk now." Agitated, Arthur kicked the dirt. "And lately, I guess, I've been questionin' what the hell we're doin'."

Hosea straightened in his chair, disconcerted. This was more than simple regret. He said mildly, "We've always done bad in the eyes of common folks. That's nothing new."

"I as good as killed that woman's husband," he declared without satisfaction. Arthur's eyes met his, the conflict warring. "Is this it, Hosea? Is this all we are now? The code we once lived by, was it ever real?"

It was a question he'd been asking himself a lot more lately. Arthur sounded as if he were at a breaking point. As if how he went forward now had meaning. "I believed in it, but it's not as simple as it used to be."

"No, no it ain't."

Perhaps this newfound want of deeper meaning was connected to Arthur's tryst with Mary Linton. Hosea noticed it was a topic he hadn't brought up yet. "You seeking to get clear of whatever's coming, I take it? Your meeting with Mary must've went well."

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, Hosea used to greet her teasingly the few times Arthur brought her around. A more accurate description he didn't know. A self-proclaimed lady of leisure mixing with the worst of them. She'd been a nice enough girl, but she didn't take to them or to their kind of life. And Arthur hadn't wanted to leave.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "It went worse than I expected when I shouldn't have expected much in the first place."

Oddly, while Arthur sounded rueful, he didn't seem as heartbroken as Hosea would have anticipated. "Her loss."

"Yeah, maybe," he said quietly. "I ain't too sure."

That was one wound Hosea could never find the right words to heal. Mary had a strong influence over Arthur, one he couldn't help but notice she'd utilized to her advantage on more than one occasion. Even if her stringing him along hadn't been done with intended callousness, Arthur had never been able to break clean from her.

Across the camp, Grimshaw strode carrying a bucket and soap; Charlotte followed with a basket of laundry. Charlotte seemed concentrated on Grimshaw's harping, but when she glanced their direction and caught sight of Arthur, she smiled widely with obvious pleasure.

Arthur crooked his own smile in response, as if the very sight of her cheered him. Hosea thought he finally pieced together why Arthur had grown so introspective of late.

"You know, Arthur," Hosea said cannily, "Mary isn't the only eligible young lady in your proximity."

Arthur turned his head, narrowing his eyes. "I don't know what you're gettin' at, old man."

Like hell he didn't. He dared prod the bear further. "I was surprised to find Charlotte returned when you seemed so adamant a few days ago that she needed to leave."

Arthur grumbled, "I tried to set her up in Saint Denis, but she wouldn't be convinced."

"Hmm," Hosea commented without adding anything else.

"You're thinkin' it was selfish for me to let her come back? That I shoulda just dropped her on a train and not looked back?" he said, seeming to speak aloud what bothered him without realizing it.

"I didn't say that," Hosea answered lightly.

"Yeah, but you're thinkin' it."

Hosea conceded, "You know, Arthur, it doesn't hurt to be selfish every once in a while. Especially when the other party's willing for the same."

Arthur didn't try to deny the possibility of Charlotte's mutual interest and that had Hosea curious as to what had transpired between the two. Arthur blurted, "She makes me think too much."

"A difficult burden to bear," he replied with humor.

Arthur removed his hat and rested it on his knee. "I thought I knew what kinda bastard I was, but when I'm talkin' with Charlotte, she makes me see things different."

Hosea chuckled. "Sounds like there's some hope for you in this world yet."

"It's too bad I ain't got the time for it."

Hosea focused on him, caught by the surety in which he made that statement. The boy was clearly convinced of the fact. "Something going on, Arthur, that I don't know about?"

"Few days ago.." Arthur swallowed. "I saw a doctor."

Hosea waited, observing the tension tighten Arthur's shoulders, the way he wouldn't meet his eye anymore and the start of his boot tapping the ground.

"Tuberculosis." The words seemed to tumble out, "From what I figure, I caught it from the Downes feller, the one I beat. His wife found it all familiar lookin' at least."

It made sense now, why Arthur felt so indebted to that family, his sudden hesitations and the new musings over life and death. It was a cruel world that took the young before their time.

Hosea reached over and rested a sympathetic hand on his Arthur's shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. I can't think of nothing worse."

"Nothin', huh?" Arthur loosed a bitter chuckle. "After all the shit you've been through and I'm the worst you've seen, huh?"

"Impending death doesn't have to be so dark, if you use your time wisely."

Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "There ain't a point if it can't lead nowhere."

"I've got regrets, Arthur, like near every man, but I think you could avoid the same suffering, if you so choose. Think about it, or rather, stop thinking about it and just live how you can for as long as you can."

Arthur stood and planted his hat back on his head. He gazed for a long moment in the direction Charlotte and Susan had disappeared, down the hill towards the river. "I don't quite understand the optimism, but maybe I'll keep it in mind."

Arthur retreated to his tent, where he sat heavily before laying down. Hearing movement behind him, Hosea turned in his chair. Micah's cohorts were awake, sharpening their knives and checking their guns, but Micah was yet asleep in his bedroll. As he watched in that direction, Dutch emerged from his tent, scoping out the new day.

Hosea stood, wincing as his arm twinged without the sling to hold it, but he pushed through the pain and strode to Dutch.

Dutch followed his approach and his eyes strayed back to his tent briefly, as if he were considering retreating. Hosea wouldn't have it.

"Dutch," he called in greeting, so there was no mistaking his intention for a discussion.

"Morning, Hosea," As Hosea expected, Dutch's attention went to his arm. "I see you're finally on the mend."

"So, it would appear," he muttered. "Can I have a word?"

"Of course, old friend." Dutch continued his pleasant manner as if they hadn't been exchanging barbs the last few days. "What's on your mind?"

Hosea noticed he didn't offer to sit, either inside the tent for privacy or at the nearby table for comfort. Dutch was testing his endurance.

"You know what's on my mind," Hosea responded with some slight irritation because he found Dutch's friendliness condescending.

"And I told you," Dutch's expression tightened. "We don't need to go nowhere just yet."

"Dutch, we got to figure this the hell out and now. Pinkertons could hit us any day. We need a way out."

"If you were listening to me, you'd know that's all I think about. I know what's best for us. I have a plan to get us money and get us safely out of here."

"Then enlighten me," Hosea challenged.

Dutch leaned back, studying him. "You're right that we need to get a move on. I'm not arguing with you there. Just not yet. There's plenty of land in this fine country. But first, we need to make some noise and collect those bonds."

Hosea was already being cast aside by Dutch's lack of interest, but he stood his ground. "We've been partners for over two decades. For God's sake, listen to what I'm saying to you."

"I am listening, to you, to Arthur. You even got Susan asking me every goddamn morning if she should start packing."

"That's not—"

"And what's this I hear about you making deals with the Natives?" Dutch interrupted.

"Nothing major," Hosea replied dissmissively. "Doing a few jobs for them to not make any new enemies."

It was an intentional dig at the way Dutch had been operating lately, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I hear they might be wanting to pick a fight with the army." An odd gleam lit his eye, as if he were concocting an idea as they spoke.

They were getting distracted. "What's your plan to get us out of here?"

Dutch blinked and refocused his attention. "Like I said, first we need to make some noise."

Since Hosea knew, to Dutch, that could mean anything, he asked impatiently, "What does that entail?"

What would distract the Pinkertons enough that they could make a clean getaway?

"It means, that as John gets back, I'm sending him and Arthur out to Bacchus Station to blow the whole bridge sky high."

As far as a diversion, it would more than serve its purpose, but to what end? Every eye in the country would turn to this area because of it.

Dutch grinned proudly. "The law will be so busy fretting, we can do just about any job we want. And there's a big one on its way here. A train, full of payroll, coming through in a couple of days. I figure, if we can get hold of those bonds in Cornwall's factory and rob that train, we'll be set for a long while."

This must be the grand scheme Dutch and Micah had been discussing of late. Hosea would find out soon enough how much thought had been put into it. He prompted, "Then what?"

Dutch's wily grin dropped. "What?"

"We get the money and we go where? After the train robbery, we won't be able to stick around here for even a few hours. You still wanting to hop a boat and settle in Tahiti?"

"No," Dutch said a little too quickly. He raised his hands enigmatically, as if urging Hosea to see his vision. "I've been thinking about this, Hosea. I say, our next stop is...New York."

Hosea frowned. "You want to go that far east?"

"It's big, it's populated. We'll be lost among the locals in no time."

"The city ain't some sanctuary," Hosea snapped. "There's real law that way."

Dutch waved a hand, unconcerned. "There's law everywhere these days, doesn't matter where we go."

"There might not be a right path for us to take, Dutch, but there's a wrong one. And this is it. In New York, we won't be hidden, we'll be exposed to more eyes. There'll be more people to recognize us for who we are. And stuck in that city, it won't be as easy to wriggle free."

Dutch scoffed. "You're being too cautious."

"And you, too reckless."

"What would you suggest then?" Dutch shot back snarkily.

"I don't know for sure, but we could hitch out west again, where it's still open and far from the government's reach."

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Lay roots maybe. We said we'd do that last year. We could start up our own business, go legitimate. Between the two of us, I reckon we can come up with something to successfully run out there. You remember we were in talks once to buy some property? Before we landed in Blackwater."

"Those were ideas never fully formed, Hosea." Dutch's irritation was unfounded since it'd been his in the first place. "We can't do that anymore."

"I don't see why not. We can take what money we do have and get the hell out of here. If we split up—"

"We are not splitting up!" Dutch erupted. "Besides, for something as massive an undertaking as purchasing property, we need more money."

"How much do you have stashed right now?"

"Not enough."

"How much?" Hosea demanded.

"Not enough."

He could see that line of questioning wasn't going to work. What they needed for an easy departure was guaranteed easy money. Not fiddling with train robberies they hadn't done much reconnaissance on yet. There were no more banks in this area nor was there time for a long con. They'd burned all the bridges on this side of the country.

"If we had more money now," Hosea said slowly, "you'd be willing to lead us out of here today, wouldn't you?"

"That's the plan, Hosea," Dutch repeated in a vexed tone.

A funny idea started forming, one Hosea wouldn't have considered months ago. He wasn't sure if he should even consider it now as it seemed as reckless as everything Dutch had in mind. But desperate men were unpredictable.

Hosea put forward, "You're gonna think I'm crazy, but what about Blackwater?"

"What about it?"

The more the idea broiled in his mind, the more Hosea warmed to it. It had been months since the ferry robbery. Surely there couldn't be as many guarding the city, especially since they had already been chased so far north.

Growing excited, Hosea explained, "That heist money is money we know of, that ain't been touched, if the papers are anything to go by. It's ripe for the taking."

"The payroll train is a lucrative take."

"More lucrative than the thousands stuck in Blackwater?"

Indecision warred in Dutch's expression and a hint of caution. "How would we go about it then?"

A reasonable Dutch he could work with. "How deep in the city did you stash the take?"

Dutch hedged. "Deep enough."

"That dynamite might come in handy there." Better use than blowing a damn bridge. They could use it in the same manner when they'd been planning to rob Lemoyne National.

Dutch eyed him, like he expected a trick or for him to take back the suggestion. "You sure changed your tune quick. You weren't even on board with the robbery on the ferry."

Dutch conveniently left out how he and Arthur had been in the middle of their own job at the time. "I want out of here and if this is the way to do it, let's do it."

"What makes you think we can?"

"This time we'll plan it all together, Dutch. We'll have everyone involved and work as a group, like we should have done in the first place."

A spark lit his eyes, his face livening with interest. "It ain't gonna be easy."

"No fun in it if it was," Hosea joked. "But I bet it'll be easier than the initial robbery."

"Who would we send in? Our faces are damn near as recognizable as the president's."

"One of the women will do. I'm thinking Miss Charlotte. She's got the cleanest nose around here." Arthur wouldn't like her involvement after all his posturing for the opposite, but if he was set on saving the lot of them, he'd come around.

"You trust her not to run off with it?"

He did, but he also sensed simple words of confidence weren't going to satisfy Dutch. "We can send someone trustworthy with her, to keep her honest. Arthur?"

Dutch scowled. "Arthur's been defiant lately."

"He's worried, as am I."

"Not Arthur," Dutch said adamantly.

"How about John?"

"If you never want to see that money again."

"I never did."

Dutch's eye twitched at that quip. Perhaps Hosea had gone too far, but he couldn't control the bad feelings that still cropped up whenever Blackwater was the topic.

Before Dutch fell back on an angry tirade, Hosea suggested, "Mrs. Adler?"

"If she had a few years with us, I'd agree, but her mind's on one thing now and that's vengeance."

"It's probably best if we send someone who wasn't in the ferry raid anyway, as they wouldn't be recognized."

"That leaves out Bill, Javier, Micah and Charles too."

"Doesn't leave us with too many choices," Hosea admitted. Dutch was taking him seriously and he was grateful for it so he kept silent about how Dutch had nearly everyone during the ferry and still hadn't managed a success.

"Who's left? Lenny and Pearson?"

Hosea noticed Dutch had the faculty to not suggest Micah's two compatriots. Whether that was because he didn't trust them himself or knew Hosea would shut the idea down.

"I suppose..." Hosea scratched his chin in thought. "We'll be counting on Lenny." The kid would like that. He was hankering for some action.

For the rest of the morning, they worked through a few more of the particulars, which may still need some hammering out, but by then he and Dutch were in the tent, going over a map. They were bouncing ideas off each other, in the same manner they used to, as partners.

At the end of it, Hosea had gotten Dutch to agree to start the move to the location Eagle Flies had provided, once the group recovering the money left for Blackwater. It was then Hosea remembered what Arthur had said about stealing documents at Cornwall's factory. Arthur would be familiar with the layout and could be their in. They might be able to make a stop on the way down.

"Now, about these bonds—" Hosea coughed and cleared his throat. "The guards at Cornwall's factory..."

Hosea coughed again, but this time when he tried to clear his airway, but it wasn't quite so easy. His throat had constricted and he gasped for air. It felt as if he was trying to breathe underwater.

He stumbled back a step, out of Dutch's tent. He nearly lost his footing, but Dutch clutched his arm, the bad one, to steady him. Yet Hosea couldn't feel the pain over the tightness in his throat and the sharpness in his chest.

"Hosea?" Dutch called to him, panic creeping into his voice.

Hosea shook his head, his legs collapsing underneath him. Dutch helped him to sit. Then, he turned his head and hollered over his shoulder, "Miss Grimshaw!"

"Don't do this to me, brother," Dutch begged, his eyes wide with pure fear.

The edges of Hosea's vision started to blacken and he couldn't summon the breath to reassure Dutch because it wasn't there. He knew in an instant what that meant.

This was it.

Hosea stopped trying so hard to fight the inevitable and closed his eyes. Dutch was still yelling, maybe others had gathered around, but Hosea could no longer tell. Their voices were far away and muffled.

Hosea had done as much as he could, with the time he'd had. With luck, his last acts were enough, but his friends were not his concern anymore.

He'd had too many close calls in his time to see his life pass him by as he took his last breath. All he could do now was throw himself at the mercy of Death and hope for the best.

Above all else, Hosea was ready to see his Bessie again.