The snow had finally melted enough to move the wagons. Everyone was eager to get out of the snow and cold, so packed up very quickly. Arthur found himself driving the last wagon sitting next to Hosea who told them of a decent bit of land outside of a town called Valentine where they could hole up for a while. At this point, they'd go anywhere without all that damn snow.

As they were crossing the river above a waterfall, he saw the blue roan appaloosa and the girl further down the bank. The horse was drinking from the river as the woman looked to be fishing next to it. She noticed them and raised her hand slightly in greeting, but Arthur didn't acknowledge her.

When they reached the other side of the river, the wagon shook violently as the left rear wheel loosened and fell off. Some crates and milk cans fell off the back as Arthur swore and jumped off the wagon to inspect the damage. As he did, he glanced down the river and saw the girl wasn't paying attention as she reeled in a fish. He shrugged it off and with the help of Hosea and Charles, fixed the wheel. Neither of them seemed to have noticed the girl, and if they did, didn't say anything.

By the time they reached the new camp, Horseshoe Overlook, the rest of the gang had already started setting up. It was a nice enough place, hidden from the main roads but also had a nice view over the river below.

Miss Grimshaw already had Arthur's bed and area set up. She had managed to save most of his things, especially his photographs for which he was especially grateful. He sat on his cot, removed his heavy winter coat and picked up the framed picture of Mary. It's been years, but... he still loved her. He always wondered how she was doing, but could never bring himself to try to find out, especially since she had married someone else.

He placed the picture back carefully by his bed and changed into clothing more suitable for the weather. It was good to be out of the snow.


Been a few days. Dutch seems a little better. His eyes are sparkling once more and I can see he's thinking a little clearer.

I think we all feel a little happier in spite of Blackwater and that whole mess.

Headed into Valentine with Uncle and the girls. Girls went scouting out work while Uncle and I had a few drinks.

Things took a strange turn - some fella seemed to recognize me, or us from Blackwater. I chased the bastard and he nearly fell off a cliff - I spared him and he gave me an ink pen.

Finally met that girl from the mountains...


Arthur pocketed the pen and wondered if he made the right decision. There wasn't anything stopping this man, Jimmy Brooks, from running to the law, even though Jimmy just had the scare of his life. Arthur would have to take extra care not to be followed when he went back to camp. He mounted the horse he had stolen, or rather, borrowed, and turned back to Valentine to return it.

On the road, he saw that familiar blue roan appaloosa being led along the road by the girl. She had a long, black braid and was wearing a light blue blouse and riding pants. She was shorter than he thought, her head just reached the top of her horse's withers. When he hurried to catch up to her, he realised it was the horse that was quite tall.

"Hello," she turned her head to him, still walking.

"You following us?" he demanded.

"Seems you're following me right now," she said with a smile.

"You were up in the mountains."

"Probably."

"Saw you by that train."

"Probably."

"And then by the river."

"Probably."

"So you are watching us."

"Is that a crime?"

"Why are you watching us?"

"I like watching people."

"Why?"

"People are interesting."

"We ain't that interesting."

"You could have let that man fall but you saved him."

"You saw that?"

"Like I said, I like watching people."

"So are you watching me?"

"Sometimes."

"Stop watching me."

"Can't help it." She stopped and easily jumped on her horse. She turned back to him. "You're an interesting man, Arthur Morgan. Have a good day."

He could only watch as she cantered away, shocked that she knew exactly who he was. But who was she? How did she know who he was? Should he be worried? He was about to go after her when the man he borrowed the horse from ran up.

"Oh, thank goodness, I thought I'd never see my horse again!" the man cried.

"Just borrowed it for a minute," Arthur dismounted and handed him the reins, "Thanks."

He headed back into town only to find that Uncle and the girls had already left. Well, now what? He considered stealing one of the horses hitched outside the hotel, but opted not to. Dutch said to lie low and he had already stolen - borrowed - one horse already today. Well, maybe he'll go get a drink before starting the walk back.

As he turned on to the main street, a man nearby called out to him.

"Hey, sir! Would you like to make a donation? Help the poor and weak?" the man rasped.

Arthur shook his head and approached him at the small table he stood at. "You get a lot of money doing this?" he picked up one of the pamphlets, skimmed it, and tossed it back on the table.

"Uh, not much, but it's the trying that counts!" the man coughed.

"Uh huh, if you say so."

"I do," the man paused, "Uh, who do you help?"

"I'll help you keep your mouth closed," Arthur sneered.

"Now, that won't be necessary," the girl from the mountains walked up next to Arthur. "Here, my donation." She held out a small wad of bills to the man.

"Oh! Thank you!" the man stammered and coughed, "Sorry." He opened his donation box and she placed the money in.

"You're welcome. Take care." She turned and started up the main street.

"See, mister, when you try, good things will happen," the man smiled at Arthur, but Arthur wasn't paying any attention. He ran to catch up to the girl.

"You still following me?" he demanded.

"I could ask you the same question," she replied as she kept walking.

"Who are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"That's why I asked."

She stopped and turned to him, holding out her hand. "Grace."

He hesitated then reached out to shake her hand. "Arthur."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"Can't walk five feet in Blackwater without seeing all of your wanted posters."

He suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into the alley between the saloon and the doctor's. "You going to turn us in?" he hissed at her.

"Of course not," she replied, looking up at him. His grip on her shoulders tightened as she looked him deep in his eyes.

"So why are you following us?"

"Why do you do the things you do?"

The question startled him. "What?"

"Why do you rob and kill people? Like on that ferry?"

"That wasn't me! That was-" Arthur stopped himself.

"But you've robbed and killed other times. Like with that train."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"So why do you do it?"

"We're out here surviving and free from all this," he gestured out to the main street.

Grace nodded. "Which is why you're on the run and hiding. Makes sense. Well, don't let me keep you from your freedom." She pushed him away and walked back out to street. Arthur hesitated, then followed.

"So you ain't ratting us out?" he asked her quietly.

"No. If I was, I'd do it already. But the sheriff's is just over there if you want to do it yourself," she pointed to the building on the end. Arthur pushed her hand down quickly.

"Okay, okay, I believe you."

"No you don't, but I don't think you have much choice unless you're going to shoot me right here," she smirked, "Anyway, I must be going now."

"I thought you had left with your horse."

"I forgot something in town."

"What?"

"What's with all the questions?"

"Just... stop following us. We ain't that important."

"Well, important enough to the Pinkertons." She looked around. "Where's your horse?"

"Back at camp, came in with some of the others."

"But you were riding a horse a few minutes ago."

"I, uh, borrowed that one. Just returned it."

"Oh." She paused. "Long way back?"

"Why?" Arthur narrowed his eyes at her.

"Need a ride?"

"So you can find out where we're staying?" he scoffed. "No."

"Okay, suit yourself. See you around, Mr. Morgan." She turned and walked away. Arthur watched until she disappeared around the corner and shook his head. Irritating woman.

He decided not to get a drink after all and start the walk back to camp. On the way, he heard a beggar call out to him. What's with this little town and people begging for money?

"Hey mister! You got a dollar? A quarter? A dime?" An overweight man in an old, ratty army uniform was sitting against the side of a house. Arthur took a few steps towards him and the man stood, with a bit of difficulty since he was missing his left arm. "I'm too old to get a job, mister, way too old. Can't we be friends?"

"Uh, sure," Arthur said.

"Oh, I'm so happy! I ain't had a friend in a long time. My last friend died. Weren't my fault," the veteran added quickly.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fun being with you, mister," the veteran took a step towards Arthur, "Can I hold you a second, mister? Can I?"

Arthur hesitated and quickly looked around. "Okay, just quickly." The veteran half-fell towards Arthur and hugged him tightly with his good arm as Arthur awkwardly patted his back.

"That felt good," the veteran smiled, "It's good to be held sometimes. We used to hold each other during the war. You got sad eyes, mister, like you've seen sad things." He sighed. "Remember with kindness, mister." He walked away down the road to the main street.

Poor bastard. Arthur had seen many of these old war veterans begging on the streets over the years. While he had been in his share of gunfights, he couldn't imagine what it would be like in a full out war. He walked a few steps, then realised he hadn't given the old veteran any money. Oh well. Maybe next time.

A train blocked the road out of town so he used the time to light up a cigarette and watch people board the train. Could be a lucrative opportunity. Mary-Beth had mentioned that a train would be heading down to Saint Denis loaded with passengers heading to South America. They'd need to do some planning for that one.

As the train left the station, he saw Grace sitting on a bit of grass next to her appaloosa. He shook his head as he approached.

"You following me?" she grinned up at him.

"I thought you left."

"I did. But Tuula wanted to graze here and who am I to deny her such lovely grass?" She reached over to pat her horse on the leg. "So. Want a ride back? If only partway so you can keep your secret hiding spot a secret."

Arthur thought for a moment. He wasn't looking forward to the walk back anyway. "Fine."

Grace smiled and stood up. She patted her horse on the neck and gently pulled on the reins. Her horse snorted and turned to face them. "This is Tuula. She can be a mean ol' bitch, but she takes care of me." She petted Tuula on the nose. Arthur reached out to let Tuula sniff at his hand.

"Yeah, I know someone like that. Hard as nails, but can't live without her."

"Tries to keep you all in line, huh?" Grace pulled herself up into the saddle.

"Heh, she tries," Arthur jumped up behind her. Tuula threw her head and hopped a little.

"It's okay, girl," she patted Tuula reassuringly, "Stop being dramatic." She turned her head towards Arthur. "Sorry, she doesn't like other people."

"'s alright," he wasn't sure where to put his hands and decided on lightly on her waist. She nudged Tuula into a trot along the road. The horse had a much smoother trot than most of the horses he'd ridden before.

A short distance later, Grace slowed Tuula to a halt. "Look at that." She pointed at the ground where there looked to be large puddles of blood leading to below the railroad tracks.

"Probably an animal got hit by a train or something."

Grace dismounted and crouched down by the blood. Arthur joined her. "Let's just have a look." She started making her way down the steep hill. "Oh."

Arthur followed and stopped behind her, horrified at the sight in front of them. A bloody, mutilated torso was hanging under the railroad tracks. Jesus. The arms were still barely attached, tied to the railroad supports, but the head and bottom half were missing. The ground below it was covered in blood and other bits of organs. He was surprised to see Grace carefully moving closer for a better look, her face scrunched in disgust.

Around the side, Arthur noticed the head of the man attached to one of the supports with a knife. A rolled piece of paper was in his mouth. Arthur pulled it out, causing the head to fall and roll towards Grace.

"Uh, thanks?" she stopped the head with her foot.

"Ugh, poor bastard," Arthur rolled open the paper and saw part of a drawing, but he couldn't quite make out what it was. He flipped it over and saw the word 'ME' written in large red letters.

"'Look on my works'," Grace said slowly.

"What?"

"It's written over here," she pointed at the rocks then looked over at him, "What's that?"

"Some piece of paper inside his mouth," he turned it over in his hands.

"Well, I should head back into town to let the sheriff know," she said, "That is, unless you want to be dropped off first."

"I'll just walk," he said, "It ain't too far."

"Okay then. See you around." She climbed back up the hill and rode back to Valentine. Arthur put the paper in his satchel and walked back to camp. It wasn't too far.

He just arrived back in camp when Mary-Beth rushed up to him.

"Arthur! I'm sorry we left you, but we thought it best we leave too in case that man was going to say something."

"It's okay, it was just all a misunderstanding," he reassured her.

"Really?" Mary-Beth looked skeptical.

"Yeah, we had a talk and that was that."

"Oh. Well, thank you. I hope we can go back into town again soon."

"Hey, do you know when that train will be heading down to Saint Denis?"

"In a few weeks, I think, I'm sorry, I didn't get an exact date."

"That's fine, you did good," he said. Mary-Beth's face lit up as she walked away. She was a sweet kid. Made him wonder why she stuck around with this band of lunatics.

Arthur spent the next few days doing some hunting for Pearson Arthur returned to Valentine to meet up with Bill, Javier, and Charles in the saloon where things went about as well as it could.

Got into some God awful fight in the town saloon. Bill started it. I was stopped from beating some big yokel to death by a local do good-er.


Afterwards Dutch accosted me with old Josiah Trelawny back and quite as slippery and confusing as ever. Trelawny told us that Sean had not been killed in Blackwater, but was a prisoner there, held by scalp hunters awaiting payment.


"Go clean yourself up," said Dutch, "then head over to Blackwater, see if you can't get Sean out of there."

Arthur nodded and headed to the nearest rain barrel to wash the mud off his face.

"Well, aren't you a sight."

He looked up, startled, and saw Grace leaning against the wall of the building. Her long black hair was still in a braid over her shoulder and she was wearing a white blouse today with riding pants.

"You still following me?"

"Maybe," she approached and handed him an embroidered handkerchief. He shook his head.

"Nah, I'd make a mess of it."

"That's the point," she smiled. "Go on, it's not like I can't clean it."

He sighed and took it, wiping the mud from his face as much as he could. "Who are you?"

"Forgot already? I'm Grace."

"I know, but who are you, really? Why are you always around?"

"I'm in town for a few days. Here." She handed him his hat, which he just realised had been in her hand the whole time.

"Thanks. So you saw everything?" He took it, still holding the muddy handkerchief in her other hand. She took the handkerchief back, dunked it in the rain barrel and wrung it out.

"Oh yeah. You okay?" she pointed at his head.

"Yeah," he replied, ignoring his headache.

"More than we can say for ol' Tommy over there," she looked around him at the sight of Tommy being helped by at least four men over to the hotel.

"Yeah, well, I don't back down in a fight."

"You might need to once in a while. "You can't win every fight, Mr. Morgan. See you around." She walked away toward the stables. Arthur started to follow her but a wagon crossed his path. When it passed, she had gone.

He shook his head, still wondering whether or not he should be worried by her. But why was she so interested in them? Or in him? But he couldn't worry about that right now. He had a pain in the ass Irish bastard to rescue.

But first, he could use a drink. He didn't get to have one at the main saloon and they probably didn't want to see him again, but there was a smaller one just around the corner where he got a bit more than he bargained for. He tried to clean as much mud off himself as he could before going in.


Met some old drunk. Claimed he was a shootist. Seemed more like a clown.

Some poor fool was writing a book about him, or trying to. Levin was the name of the writer. Jim Calloway was the killer. Apparently Levin needs more information.

Asked me to find a few folk who have spent more time in publicity than me and knew old Jim back when he was a real killer.


Arthur took the photos of the gunslingers he was to locate and left the saloon.

"So you met the great Jim Boy Calloway, huh?"

Arthur nearly dropped the photos in surprise. Grace was leaning against the railing outside the bar.

"You always going to startle me like that?" he asked with a glare.

"You always going to be this grumpy?" She smiled at him.

"Heh," he smiled back, "Yeah, I sort of met the man, seemed like any other drunk around here," he unhitched his horse and led him towards the train station as Grace walked beside him.

"Who was the other man with him?"

"Some fool who wants to write his biography. Seems to think ol' Calloway's a god of some sort."

Grace snorted. "Good lord. I thought he seemed a funny sort. So what did he ask you to do?"

"Wants me to find other gunslingers to get stories on Calloway," he handed Grace the photos who looked at them with interest.

"Wow, Black Belle," her eyes widened, "I've definitely heard of her." She turned the photo over to read the back.

"'Married six times to six gentlemen, never divorced'," Arthur read, "So is she some sort of husband killer?" he asked.

"Nah, they were all killed by either someone else's bullet or illness," said Grace as she looked through the other photos. "Seems a decent woman, despite the whole outlaw thing. Billy Midnight and Flaco Hernandez sound familiar, but I don't know anything about them. Emmet Granger turned on his old gang. That's why he was pardoned."

"He ratted them out?"

"Yep, got a nice payday out of it," she handed the photos back. "He blew all the money, of course, and is now a hog farmer east of Flatneck Station."

"You know him?"

"I passed by once and he made some rude comments," she said.

"What sort of rude comments?"

"The sort that men don't usually hear."

"Well, I'll see what he's got to say for himself."

"Just watch yourself. He's done some nasty things to people."

"So have I."

"Not as bad as Granger."

"I can handle myself."

"I know," she smiled up at him. "Anyway, I'll leave you to it. See you around, Mr. Morgan." She whistled for her horse and waved at Arthur before cantering away.

She was a strange one and he wasn't sure what to think of her. He still wasn't convinced she wouldn't run to the law or the Pinkertons. For all he knew, she was following him to see if he'll slip up with planned robberies or where they'd end up next. Even so, there was no way she could've known they moved from the mountains down to the Heartlands and she seemed to be there before they arrived. Was it all coincidence, or should he be worried?