"This is horseshit!" Bill threw his cards down, frustrated at the poker game in front of him. He'd had a pair of queens, his first good hand in this godawful game, but Javier's flush had screwed him.

"Bad luck, amigo," Javier commented with a chuckle.

The third player, Cleet, joined in the mocking, collecting the cards as the next dealer. "Seems you got a gift for losin', buddy."

Bill scowled at the two of them and attempted to cross his arms. He was reminded sharply of the injury that had incapacitated him in the last week. Some Murfree asshole had sliced his gun arm to hell. Miss Grimshaw had stitched him up decent enough, but he couldn't use his arm much.

While Cleet dealt the next hand, Bill's attention wandered to the rest of them that were in camp. It was damn near peaceful for once in a long time.

Dutch and Hosea had their heads together over a map in Dutch's tent, hopefully cooking up something that would make them rich. Pearson was cutting vegetables and Abigail stood washing dishes. Jack was at the back of the food wagon, sneakily digging for a snack.

The women tittered with each together, Tilly, Charlotte and Miss Grimshaw on the other side of camp near their own wagon. Bill moved his gaze on without interest.

Charles sat between the wagons, nimbly tying arrows and sharpening their points. Morgan slept in his cot, hat covering his face and muffling his snores.

Lastly, Uncle was in the middle of some nonsense story at the campfire and the victim stuck suffering next to him was Joe. The brute with the scarred face was unable to put a stop to the rambling no matter how deeply he glowered at Uncle.

If everything wasn't about to go to shit, Bill would have said it was the start of a promising day.

Micah wandered past their table to Dutch, who was fully engrossed in his conversation with Hosea. Bill couldn't hear clearly what was said, but Dutch cut Micah short when he tried to interrupt. Dutch pointed away from the tent as if he were scolding a dog.

"Sorry, boss." Micah backed away, before turning around.

As soon as he turned away from Dutch, a thunderous expression took over Micah's face. He lifted his chin, eyes scouring the area. Bill looked away quickly, recognizing the gesture. Micah was on the hunt for a target. Bill weren't no coward, but he couldn't afford to tear his stitches throwing hands with Micah.

Bill had already torn a few of his stitches when he'd gone after that dynamite wagon Dutch had wanted. Miss Grimshaw had been pissed about it enough to threaten not to fix him up again. With Strauss gone, ain't no one else much for doctoring so he didn't have a choice except to be at her mercy.

Micah prowled over to the women and Bill focused on the card game again. He ended up folding two times in a row and regretted it the second time when the river revealed his chance at a straight.

"Goddamn bullshit!" Bill said angrily.

Across camp, the women erupted into laughter. Bill flushed, expecting them to be laughing at him, even though they weren't near enough to know about his losing streak. Bill looked up to see Miss Grimshaw squaring off with Micah.

Grimshaw's raised voice carried over to them. "You think you'd be the first bastard I've castrated? Away with you and take your bullshit accusations with you."

Micah stomped over to their table, his teeth gritted and face red as he plunked down in the open chair.

"Deal me in, Williamson," Micah snapped.

Javier smoothed his mustache, a smirk playing at his lips as he wasn't threatened by Micah's anger. "What's wrong? Did one of the ladies say something to piss you off?"

"Grimshaw doesn't know her goddamn place."

"I think your problem, ese, is that she does."

"That bitch deserves to be gutted and thrown into a ditch."

Bill knew a threat when he heard one and Micah's outburst was as cold-blooded and sincere as they come.

When all he got in response was their silence, Micah leaned back and chuckled. "Why the looks? I ain't serious."

"Wouldn't bother me, if you were," Cleet commented mildly. "She kicked me out of camp yesterday and wouldn't let come back 'til I bathed proper-like. Cost me two damn dollars in Annesburg."

Not knowing what else to do, Bill dealt the cards, essentially inviting Micah to stay in their company. As they started betting, Micah started talking. His big mouth wouldn't let him do otherwise. Bill ain't never met man who talked so much shit all the time.

"Be cautious if you're heading into town again," Javier advised Cleet. "I wouldn't be surprised if Milton's waiting, ready to catch us unawares down there."

Micah sneered. "Do you boys actually think those Pinkertons are near?"

Javier said, "It's not good. What more is there to say?"

Bill insisted, "But Dutch will get us moved if they get too close."

Micah leaned in conspiratorially. "I sure do wonder how that keeps happening."

"We weren't quiet about getting rid of Cornwall," Javier admitted.

"They was on us before then and you know it," Micah said sharply. "I'm talking about something else, a conspiracy against us."

Javier eyed him. "Then maybe you should talk straight instead of making us guess."

Micah's expression turned contrite. "Well, now. I don't wanna bring up any bad blood between the lot of you."

"Sure you don't."

"But I'm thinkin' someone 'round here is more than they say they is."

Cleet nodded in apparent agreement, despite the fact that his focus remained on his cards.

"Like what?" Bill asked.

Micah leaned across the table and said in a low voice, "Like a rat, you dipshit."

"A rat?" Bill balked and looked around at the camp.

Javier stared at Micah, unblinking. "And who exactly are you accusing, Micah?"

Micah shrugged. "Ain't my business to make accusations."

"No," Javier agreed. "It isn't."

"Just wanted to put out there, so we can be cautious. After all, what's that uppity Charlotte woman doing sticking around?"

"Get to your point, Micah," Javier said impatiently.

Bill added, "She done something suspicious?"

"It's suspicious enough she's here. She don't need to stick around, unless she wants something."

Bill still didn't get it. "What would she want with a bunch of outlaws?"

"Ain't it obvious? How many of us is she willing to turn in?"

Bill couldn't help but cast a nervous glance in Charlotte's direction, where she sat sewing, seemingly with all innocence. "You think she means to set us up?"

"Think about it, Williamson," Micah implored. "More than a few of us got some real high bounties. All she needs is to turn in one."

Javier frowned, quiet a moment as if to consider it. "Arthur trusts her."

"And, what? You trust Arthur not to get roped in by a pretty face?"

The cogs started turning. Bill pointed out, "She did try to separate us."

"Now you're getting it, Bill," Micah said, oozing with condescension.

"You're crazy," Javier said decidedly. "She's just one girl."

"'Just one girl'," Micah mocked. "I thought you boys were smarter than that. Hell, I bet you said the same thing about Miss O'Shea and then she landed herself on the side of the Pinkertons."

Remembering Grimshaw's bitching at him, Bill muttered, "The way I see it, none of the women 'round here been showing us enough respect."

It wasn't only Grimshaw who had been pissing on them. Abigail about yelled at Marston through the night. Mrs. Adler had more of a mouth on her than Bill could tolerate. Mary-Beth, before she'd ungratefully abandoned them, had never drawn much in except for a few tips here and there.

As long as Tilly had been with them, Bill had never fully trusted her. She'd run with the Foreman Boys too damn long for there not to be some backstabbing on her part at some point. Molly ain't done shit for them except sell them out.

Karen...Bill grudgingly had to accept she was useful when she wasn't plastered. She'd been the one to coordinate the Valentine bank hit and she'd done others back when they were out west. But, if Bill had been allowed the information, it wasn't like he couldn't have done better.

"You two are talking out of your ass," Javier told them. "Dutch is the better judge of character and he wouldn't allow Charlotte to remain if she was ratting on us."

As if talking about the women summoned one over, Karen showed up into camp, sauntering straight towards them after a short greeting to the other girls. Her skirt was dusted and she sported her black hat, a rifle thrown over her shoulder.

"Hello, gentlemen." Karen paused and added cheekily, "Micah."

"Real funny, Miss Jones," Micah replied. "I think I prefer you drunk out of your mind."

"I bet you do," she shot back, "you sick bastard."

"You up for some poker, Karen?" Javier offered.

Bill scowled. He was already losing hands left and right since Micah joined. With Karen in, he'd lose more because she had a sharper nose when it came to bluffs.

Karen grinned directly at him, as if she knew what he was thinking. "Nah, I'll let you boys keep your money this time. I gotta head out straight away with Sadie. We're finishing off the O'Driscolls once and for all. There's a particular one she wants dead real bad."

"Didn't you just get in?" Javier asked curiously.

"Yeah, but Lenny and John can handle moving them horses through the hills. It's single-file up there and boring as shit riding that slow." Her eyes moved to Morgan's tent, where he was still snoring the day away. "You wanna tell Arthur when he wakes to meet us over in Little Creek?"

"Sure," Javier said.

"And any one of you willing to take over for Sadie on guard duty?"

Bill avoided her eyes because his arm was still tore open from that Murfree savage. He could hold his revolver, but a rifle was out of the question.

"I don't do guard duty," Micah said.

Karen rolled her eyes. "Don't act like you're above grunt work."

"Unlike you, I work to my strengths. While standing around, mindlessly staring at nothing for hours is one of yours, it ain't mine."

Javier stood and dropped his cards on the table. "I'll do it. These fellas haven't been much of a challenge this morning anyway."

Bill was disappointed when Javier left the table. He was alone now with Micah and Cleet and something about it had him uncomfortable. He found out soon enough his gut feeling was right when Micah and Cleet started sweeping him easy in cards. In fact, it was so bad, Bill was starting to suspect some funny business was going on.

When a third hand in a row ended with the both of them with three of kind, Bill stood quickly, his temper taking over completely. "What the hell do you take me for Bell?"

"I don't take you for nothin', Bill." Micah said with a glint in his eye. "Nothing."

"You two are cheatin'!" Bill accused.

"Wanna say that again, tough guy?" Micah stood slowly, Cleet joining him, his hand hovering over his gun.

They were cheating, Bill knew it. He wouldn't be taken for a fool anymore and the hell if they thought they were keeping his money over a rigged game.

As Bill clenched his fists, ready to go a round with the two of them, Dutch hollered, "Miss Grimshaw!"

Dutch's yell was unusually laced with fear and it drew all eyes to him. Bill turned around too and what he saw confused him. Dutch was on his knees, Hosea in his arms in front of him with his eyes closed, passed out.

Miss Grimshaw rushed past them, as everyone at the table followed her to the commotion, creating a half circle around Dutch.

"Do something!" Dutch snapped at Miss Grimshaw.

For once, Miss Grimshaw seemed at a loss. She fluttered her hand helplessly, before resting it on her throat and admitting, "I don't know what to do, Dutch."

The commotion had woken Morgan from his slumber and he pushed past Bill, dropping to his knees in front of Dutch. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know!" Dutch shot back.

"Is he still breathin'?"

"Check him."

But Morgan seemed frozen in place, as if he didn't want to confirm what was obvious. In fact, no one moved, as if they all wanted to deny the truth a little bit longer. Because, Hosea wasn't moving, his body limp in Dutch's arms. Bill had been around enough dying men to recognize one.

It was Charlotte who eventually stepped forward and said quietly, "I'll do it."

She knelt beside Morgan and pressed two fingers to Hosea's wrist. The rest of them held their breath. It took her an eternity to search for his pulse.

Charlotte lowered Hosea's arm gently and bowed her head. "I'm truly sorry."

"Oh my God," Abigail wailed, the first to react as she turned Jack away.

Tilly covered her mouth, silent tears already streaming down her cheeks. Even mean old Miss Grimshaw's eyes started glittering. Charles bowed his head and Pearson removed his hat in respect. For once, Micah kept his mouth shut as he crossed his arms. Joe and Cleet were at his back, impassive.

Charlotte rested a hand on Morgan's arm when his expression turned grief-stricken. Uncle dropped a hand on Dutch's shoulder and gave him a comforting pat.

Bill's stomach turned as the truth settled. Hosea had just been making plans with Dutch and now he'd dropped dead. It seemed impossible. It was nearly as bad as Sean getting shot down so suddenly when the Grays got the jump on them.

"No," Dutch said. "Bill, fetch me The Count. I'll take him into town myself to see a doctor."

"Dutch..." Morgan started before his voice broke off. He cleared his throat. "He's gone."

"We don't know that. There could be time to save him and you're wasting it."

Dutch and Arthur stared one another down and Bill started walking away. Dutch wanted his horse, so Bill would get him the horse.

Bill had made it to the edge of camp when Javier came charging past him. "Javier, Hosea—"

Javier didn't spare him a moment to listen, but headed straight for Dutch, yelling, "There's Pinkertons coming fast!"

There was a moment where no one moved at his announcement as they looked around at each other in shock. They were supposed to be safe here.

Then Morgan leapt to his feet. "Son of bitch! Everyone, get to cover! Now!"

As far as Bill saw, the women dispersed immediately, most of them headed with Pearson to hide behind Grimshaw's wagon. Javier moved swiftly to the corner of the food wagon. Charles and Arthur were across the way, positioned at the ladies' wagon.

Micah found a crate and crouched down, taking out his prized revolvers. Joe and Cleet took position against Arthur's wagon, one on each end. Bill hustled over to the nearest tree.

Only Dutch hadn't immediately taken cover. He lowered Hosea carefully to the ground and got to his feet, his face made of stone.

Out of sight, Milton's voice pierced the clearing, ordering, "Put your guns down!"

"This is his fault," Dutch declared and lifted his guns to begin shooting the trees near the entrance, firing even though none of the agents had made a visible appearance yet.

It was only the beginning of the chaos as the Pinkertons started responded in kind. Bullets shredded through their wagons' canopies and splintered their wooden bodies. At all the uproar, the horses that could pulled free from their hitches and scattered, bucking when mounted Pinkertons came storming in.

Bill started firing, joining Javier, Charles, Arthur, Micah, Joe and Cleet in fighting back. Even old Grimshaw had found her shotgun and was letting loose freely from behind the food wagon. One after another, agents fell, but no matter how many they shot down, more kept coming.

Dutch had finally moved at the incoming onslaught. He tipped over their poker table, spilling cards and coins across the dirt. An odd sort of satisfaction filled Bill at seeing Micah and Cleet's cheating hands turn meaningless.

There were more agents here than at Lakay, yet there was no deadly Gatling gun this time for them to fear, or they'd all be dead by now. The clearing left them too open. Only the wagons could serve as cover and they weren't sturdy enough to hold off Milton's army. Bill hated to admit it, but the gang was pinned, sure as shit.

There was a brief break in gunfire, where Bill momentarily thought might be the end until Javier informed them, "They have more men on horseback, coming up the hill."

"We can't stay here," Morgan said as Charles nodded in agreement beside him.

"What do we do?" Bill asked Dutch.

For several moments, Dutch sat with his back to the table, thinking about their situation. While Dutch came up with a plan, Bill noticed Abigail and Pearson leaving, slipping away up the hill. Pearson scooped Jack up so he wouldn't slip on the grass.

Before he could inform Dutch of their abandonment, Javier warned, "More coming in!"

Over the continuous beating of gunshots, Bill heard Micah yell, "We can't hold them off much longer, Dutch. We're gonna be overrun."

"We gotta move!" Morgan shouted from the front of the attack.

"Alright!" Dutch decided. "Let's scatter, men!"

The thundering of horse beats announced Milton's cavalry had already arrived as the gang all rushed to escape. Those fleeing headed for the cave or the woods, but Bill didn't watch as he kept busy with Micah, Joe and Cleet covering for everyone making a run for it. Miss Grimshaw too had remained to keep shooting, blowing sizable holes through the Pinkertons' chests when they got too close.

Dutch moved, passing Bill to reach Arthur's wagon. Bill covered him, killing Pinkertons as he waited for Dutch's call to leave.

"Let's go!" Dutch announced and started down the hill behind the wagon.

Bill kept shooting, allowing Javier to cross camp with some backup. Once Javier made it, Bill turned his back and followed. He knew they had to scatter, but he was sticking to Dutch. He couldn't afford to be accused a second time of leading Pinkertons to their next place of hiding.

Joe and Cleet were already started down the hill towards the river. Dutch and Javier were directly ahead of him reaching the road, Javier having outpaced Bill.

The shooting hadn't ceased and soon they heard a woman cry out in pain, which confused Bill since he'd thought all the women had got out.

"What the hell?" Bill slowed down on the hill and started to look back.

"Keep moving!" Micah snarled as he shoved him, making Bill stumble.

Ahead, Javier had stopped too and doubled back. "Was that—"

"Move, greaser!" Micah snapped.

Bill and Javier ran together until they reached the road, catching up with the others. A Pinkerton was riding their direction, but Javier shot him down without hesitation, the agent's horse reacting by bucking the body and racing away.

Dutch whistled for his horse. They heard The Count's stressed whinnying in response, recognizable from this short of distance, since they were still too close to camp. Hell, even the stallion's white coat was able to made out through the trees as he reared. The Pinkertons had two men holding his reins and restraining him from going to his master's side.

Dutch seethed. "Hope that mean bastard takes out a few of them for that."

The Count might have been lost, but Baylock came galloping down the hill, Brown Jack thankfully following. Taima trotted their way too and Cleet started running towards her. She lifted her head and took off suddenly down the road at a sprint. The two bruisers decided without a word between them to instead chase down the dead Pinkertons' mount wading across the river.

Bill took hold of Brown Jack, grateful he hadn't lost him, when a gut-wrenching feminine cry reached their ears, "Please! Someone! Help!"

Javier's attention snapped back in the direction of camp. "That's Tilly!"

"Leave her," Micah said callously, mounting his horse.

"I'm sorry," Dutch shook his head sadly. "They already got her, son."

Javier turned his head sharply, shocked, if not at Micah's lack of empathy, but certainly at Dutch's. "But, boss...it's Tilly."

"We can't save her now unless we want to get caught too," Dutch argued. "It's her life or ours!"

Bill had to agree. As far as he was concerned, all Tilly was to them now was bait. They go back there, surrounded by Pinkertons, they were dead. She'd had her chance to escape and she'd been too slow.

For a moment, it seemed Javier had been convinced. Although his shoulders had tensed, he turned his back to camp. Then, another bloodcurdling scream broke the air.

Seeing Javier straighten, Dutch warned, "She ain't worth it, Javier."

Javier stared Dutch dead in the eye, the precious seconds of their escape wasting away. "We can't leave her behind."

Javier turned his back and took off back up the hill. Idiot. Javier was going to get himself killed. That girl was already dead or she was about to be. Even so, they shouldn't let Javier go back alone. Bill wavered, unsure a moment of what to do.

Unexpectedly, Uncle broke through the trees from nowhere, on Nell II. He rode up to them, patting his horse. "Old reliable, this one."

Dutch shook his head at Javier's choice. He strode to Bill and demanded, "Give me your horse."

Bill blanched. "What?"

Dutch snatched the reins from him before he had a chance to process. "Ride with Uncle." Dutch mounted Brown Jack before Bill could say anything.

Uncle stopped next to him. "Come on, Williamson. This boy can hold the two of us."

Bill's elation at Brown Jack's appearance deflated as he hopped on behind Uncle and watched Dutch ride down the road without a backward glance.

"Don't lose him, Uncle!" Bill barked.

"Giddy up!" Uncle yipped and they set off.

Dutch led Bill, Uncle and Micah south, nearly colliding headlong into more agents seeking to pursue them at breakneck speeds. Bill did his best to fire at them, but he had to hold onto the saddle for dear life with an injured forearm so he couldn't do much. Micah and Dutch had to take care of the agents themselves.

By the time they reached the edge of Butcher Creek, no agents were tailing them anymore, but it would be foolish to slow down. They sped further south, crossing the train tracks and heading up a hill.

They were about to pass a rotting fort when Dutch veered right suddenly, bursting through the fort's tall, wooden swinging doors. Micah and Uncle led their horses after, Dutch already dismounting from Brown Jack inside.

"We'll be safe here," Dutch declared with certainty at their approach. "They'll be looking for us on the roads."

Bill nodded automatically in agreement, but he felt unsettled since he'd prefer to keep riding until they'd completely left New Hanover in the dust.

"Wonder if there's anything in here to wet my whistle," Uncle commented, entering a log cabin-like building with only half its roof.

Dutch started pacing, rubbing his temple. Bill checked over Brown Jack while Micah closed the entrance doors behind them.

"There's a cellar in here, boys," Uncle poked his head out and announced cheerfully, as if they weren't in the deepest shit of their lives. "Come on in. Maybe there'll be something to eat and drink down here."

The three of them followed Uncle, as if they were all in need of his whimsical distraction. A ladder sunk down into a cellar, as Uncle had said. He was already climbing down without them.

Bill followed last, taking one last look around, to verify the fort was unoccupied. When he reached the bottom, he remained near the ladder, straining his eyes to see into the room with no intention of going in further. It was a small, long abandoned armory, but dark as hell.

Uncle started rummaging through the cabinets, Micah found a knife on a table and began examining it. Dutch took a stance over a barrel, his hands resting on top of it as he lowered his head.

"Here we go!" Uncle exclaimed, coming over to Bill with two bottles, one in each hand. "What you partial to, Williamson? Brandy or rum?"

Bill snapped, "I ain't thirsty in a time like this!"

"Suit yourself." Uncle popped the cork out of one bottle with his teeth and spit it on the ground. "More for me."

"You think everyone else made it out?" Bill asked Dutch nervously.

"'Fraid I saw poor Susan get hit," Micah said with a rueful shake of his head. "Too bad since she did well in that fight."

"And Tilly's taken, if not a goner," Bill added grimly. "Probably Javier too, since he went back for her."

"Goddamn it!" Dutch cursed, lifted his head and pounded the barrel with a fist. "First they take Hosea and now this? What the hell's next?"

Bill shared a confused glance with Uncle and said, "Hosea weren't shot by them agents."

"I know that, but he might as well have been," Dutch said fervently. "They've had us running in a bad way all over this country. It's no wonder Hosea couldn't handle any more hardship. It's Milton's fault he's dead."

"Seems to me..." Micah said, his eyes on the edge of the blade in his hand before flicking his attention to Dutch. "It's all a little too convenient once again."

Thunder suddenly crashed outside and Bill jumped, as he hadn't noticed any clouds on their ride in. Rain started pouring over the roof of the building above, water coming down hard through the hole on the one side. Bill took a reluctant step inside the cellar.

Dutch narrowed his eyes on Micah. "What's so convenient?"

"I don't want to throw no unfair accusations around, but, you know who's gotten lucky twice now in being absent from these Pinkerton raids?"

"Who?" Dutch demanded.

Bill swore there was a very brief smirk on Micah's face before he said matter-of-factly, "Marston."

"What the hell you going about, Bell?" Uncle broke in, holding off another swig of his rum.

"You think he knew something beforehand?" Dutch asked, stroking his chin as he considered it.

Uncle waved away the suggestion. "John ain't smart enough for something that nefarious. He can't keep a secret to save his life."

Micah said, "I think he's more conniving than you give him credit for, old man. Bastard's always getting out of scrapes. Al-ways."

Uncle shook his head, abandoning the disagreement as he turned to Dutch. "We got more things to worry about, boss, than ideas that can't be proven true without the man here to defend himself. If they're willing to smoke us out of camp, them agents will try hard find us in the coming days, especially with Milton leading the charge."

"You think I don't see what kind of trouble we're in?" Dutch snapped. "I know."

Micah put in, "If you ask me, I think we should focus on the train—"

"Just, all of you," Dutch roared, "shut the hell up and let me think!"

Micah's jaw clenched, but he fell silent and leaned against a barrel. Uncle shrugged, as if it didn't matter to him and found a corner to sit and drink.

Bill was a little pissed to be included in that tongue-lashing when he'd been the only one to keep quiet. Still, he trusted firmly Dutch would come up with a way to get them out of this. One thing he learned early on in life is if you followed orders, you stayed alive.