Mary-Beth found out about a train full of rich people heading to Saint Denis before traveling to South America so John, Charles, and I decided to hit it. Sean got wind of it and came along too. Maybe for the best because the law showed up real damn fast...
After parting ways with the John, Charles, and Sean and instructing them to ride apart, Arthur headed into the Heartlands to make sure he wasn't followed. The full moon lit up the plains, including a campfire off in the distance. He took out his binoculars to have a look and recognized Grace's horse, Tuula, resting near the fire. It looked like Grace was sleeping next to the fire. He put away the binoculars and rode closer.
As he neared Grace's makeshift camp, Tuula suddenly whinnied loudly. In a flash, Grace stood and aimed her bow at him.
"Whoa, it's me, Arthur," he called out, holding up his hands to indicate he was unarmed.
"Jesus, what are you doing out here?" she asked, lowering her bow.
"Could ask you the same thing," he rode closer.
"I was sleeping," she yawned and pet Tuula to calm her.
"All alone?"
"I have Tuula," she looked up at him, "So, what are you doing out this late?"
"Nothing," Arthur lied.
"Uh huh," she said, clearly not believing him, "Well, if you want to rest a while, you can." She gestured to the fire.
"Thanks." Arthur dismounted and sat on the ground near her.
"Oh, I went up to Cotorra Springs, found the next bit of loot from the map," she dug into her saddlebag, "There was only fifteen dollars and another map." She removed the money and map and handed it to Arthur before sitting back down on her bedroll.
"So do you know where this is?" he asked her, looking at the map.
"It's at O'Creagh's Run, where you nearly got eaten by that huge bear," she said, "They're really leading you all over the place with all these maps. Hope it's worth it."
"Yeah, me too," he put the map and money into his satchel.
"You hungry? I have some bread and cheese, and a little bit of rabbit left."
"Sure."
Grace took out a few items wrapped in cloth from her satchel and handed them to Arthur. He offered some of the food to her, but she declined.
"I already ate plenty," she said with a smile.
"So what are you really doing out here?" he asked, taking a bite of the cooked rabbit.
"Actually I was hoping to run into you at some point to give you that money and map," she replied, "What about you?"
Arthur was about to reply when Tuula whinnied loudly again. Grace quickly stood with her bow in hand, followed by Arthur with his shotgun. Three lawmen on horses approached. Shit.
"Can I help you?" Grace asked them.
"Maybe," one of the lawmen said, "Train was robbed over near the border, one of the culprits was riding a grey horse." He pointed at Arthur's horse as Arthur quietly moved his finger to the shotgun's trigger.
"So? There are a lot of grey horses, can't go ten feet without seeing one half the time," Grace said calmly.
"So you haven't seen anything suspicious?"
"Nope."
"You sure?"
"Sir, we have been here all night," Grace said, "We haven't seen anyone else apart from you."
"Told you we were heading the wrong way," one of the other lawmen said.
"Right. Sorry to bother you folks," the first lawman tipped his hat at them, "Have a good night."
"Thank you, you too," Grace waved, "Good luck with catching those crooks!" As the lawmen rode away, she stared over at Arthur who had now relaxed his grip on his gun.
"What?"
"So. Robbing trains again? And don't you lie to me."
Arthur sighed. "Fine, yes, but it weren't Cornwall's train this time."
"No, just a bunch of regular people, minding their own business."
"They were wealthy enough!"
"Oh, so just because they're rich, you think you deserve some of it?"
"Well-"
"How many people did you beat?"
"It weren't just me!"
"How many?" Grace demanded.
"I don't know! A few, I guess."
"Anyone seriously hurt?"
"I don't know. Well, a bunch of the law showed up pretty quickly," he sighed, "I think it was a set up."
Grace snorted. "Seriously? They usually place a number of guards and lawmen along the tracks if there are a lot of rich people traveling or a lot of expensive cargo, so if the train doesn't show up on time, they immediately go investigate."
"Shit."
"You really didn't know that? I thought you were an expert on this sort of thing," she smirked.
"Why did you lie to them? I thought you never lied."
"I said I would never lie to you. But I will lie to others if I need to," she said, "Anyway, I'm going back to sleep. Stay as long as you want." Grace lay down on her bedroll and closed her eyes.
Arthur sat looking at her for a few moments. "You ain't afraid of me robbing you or anything?"
"You wouldn't dare," she smiled without opening her eyes, "Besides, if you tried, Tuula would kick your face in."
Arthur smiled slightly and looked over at Tuula who seemed to be watching him closely. He stayed awake for a bit before lying down to sleep. Maybe Grace wasn't too bad after all.
When he woke the following morning, Grace and Tuula had already gone and the fire had been put out. He fed his horse, mounted up, and returned to camp.
"Oh good, I was about to come look for you," Charles greeted him as he rode in.
"Yeah, just went out a ways to make sure no one would follow," Arthur dismounted. "The others get back okay?"
Charles nodded. "Anyway, I'm on guard duty for a while, see you later."
Arthur barely headed into camp when Miss Grimshaw approached.
"Mr. Morgan! Mr. Matthews asked me to tell you to meet him over at Emerald Ranch. And clean yourself up a bit! You're a mess." She threw her hands up in the air and walked away.
"Thanks, Miss Grimshaw," Arthur called after her and ran his hand across his scruffy face. He decided not to shave, just to spite her a bit.
Hosea and I went robbing, just like in the old days. A father and son pair of clowns at some farm house. Stole a wagon, sold it to some rat Hosea had met at Emerald Ranch. What goes on there, I cannot tell, but this little purchaser of stolen goods had us go rob his own family. Even by my standards, that was low, but the father and son we robbed was proof that even God makes mistakes sometimes.
"I'm going back to camp," said Hosea, mounting his horse. "Why don't you see if there's anything else of interest around here?"
"Sure," Arthur waved as Hosea trotted off. Arthur mounted his horse and headed slowly in the opposite direction. He wasn't sure where he was going to go. That is, until he spotted the familiar blue roan appaloosa on a small grassy hill across from the ranch. Grace was painting at a small easel beside her horse.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Morgan," she greeted him as he approached.
"Why is it everywhere I go, you're around?" he dismounted.
"I could say the same for you," she said, not looking away from her painting. Arthur looked to see she was painting a landscape of Emerald Ranch.
"You're very good," he said, admiring her work.
"Thanks," she mixed a bit of the white and blue paints in her palette with her brush and started to add details in the sky, "I learned to paint in France, nice little town called Arles."
"France? Alone?"
"At first. Met a nice man there, we became close, but he was battling his own personal demons. Another painter fella and I tried to help him, but in the end, he took his own life." She paused. "A damn shame. He had such an eye for the world. His use of colour was something else, I thought. Always wondered what happened to his paintings. They were beautiful."
"Huh. So was that before or after you was digging up dinosaurs in Canada?"
"After."
"Quite the world traveler, ain't you?"
"There's a lot to see out there. You should try it sometime. I mean, when you're not stealing stagecoaches."
"How did you know about that?"
"I've been sitting here painting the ranch for the past while. Stagecoaches don't just drive themselves into the barn."
"Oh."
"Better be careful, Mr. Morgan. Don't want to get caught."
"You gonna turn us in?"
"Never," she smiled up at him, "Anyway, don't let me keep you." She turned back to her painting.
Arthur didn't move, continuing to watch her paint for a few more minutes. He stepped away to take out his journal and drew a quick sketch of Grace painting.
"Do you paint, Mr. Morgan?" she asked, not looking away from her work.
"Me? Nah."
"I'd love to see more of your drawings sometime."
"Nah, they're not that important."
"They must be if you're taking the time to do it."
"I guess."
Grace added a few touches to her painting and stepped back, analyzing it. She seemed satisfied with it and set her palette and brush on the ground. She removed the canvas and folded the easel around it to guard the wet paint.
"You still here?" she turned to Arthur who was still watching her.
"Who are you, really?"
"Pretty sure I've already told you," she crouched down to wash off her brushes in a jar of water.
"No, I mean, who are you? Where are you from? What do you do?"
"Grace Bellerose. Born and raised in New York. Follower of strange men." She winked at him at the last bit.
"Hah, so you do a lot of that then?"
"Nah, not really. Guess I'm more of an explorer and traveler."
"Don't have a home?"
"Sort of. I only live in one place for a few years or so before moving on. Gets dull if I stick around somewhere too long." She packed away her brushes and palette.
"So where do you live now?"
"Near Moonstone Pond. Why, you planning on robbing the place?" she smiled up at him. Arthur shrugged. "Well, there's not much of any value there right now, I'm afraid. Unless you like old journals and books. So, valuable to me but not to you."
"Well, I guess I'll have to give it a miss then," he joked.
"Thank you. I prefer to not find the place looted."
"Have you ever been robbed before?"
"A few times."
"Oh."
"It's not very nice being robbed, you know."
"Well, I imagine not."
"So why do you rob people?"
Arthur didn't reply right away. "It's all I know."
"Hm." She looked him up and down for a moment. "Well, I guess I can't really see you doing anything else. Maybe a rancher, if you were to do honest work."
"I s'pose."
"But you're not likely to go that route."
"Maybe when we get out of here and away from the Pinkertons."
Grace snorted. "You'd have to leave the country altogether, and even then I wouldn't put it past the Pinkertons to still hunt you down."
"They'd have to give up some time."
"When you're dead, maybe. Even then, they'd probably still put your corpses on trial."
"Hah, like that would ever happen."
"Believe it or not, it has before," she giggled.
"You're joking."
"I'm really not. Some people have had their bodies dug up just to be executed again to show that you can't escape justice even after death," she laughed. "Some are even put on trial again with someone else 'speaking' for the dead, like some macabre marionette show."
Arthur burst out laughing at the image. "Ridiculous."
"Well, hopefully that won't happen to you, but if it does, I'm getting front row seats." She attached her easel to her saddle then mounted up. "Anyway, I better be going. See you around, Mr. Morgan."
He nodded at her as she rode away. He found himself starting to kind of like her, even if he still wasn't sure about her intentions. She hadn't yet turned him in, even when the law was right in front of her.
The following morning, they finally got some information out of the O'Driscoll man about the whereabouts of Colm O'Driscoll. Arthur, John, and Bill headed out with Kieran in tow to hunt down Colm.
Colm O'Driscoll slipped through our fingers once more and I saw my own life slip through mine. That gentle buffoon we kidnapped up in the mountains took us to a cabin. We were planning to kill Colm but he had just gone elsewhere. We shot a bunch of his boys and one was about to end my life when Kieran shot him.
Still, I found quite a shotgun in the cabin, and then Grace found me.
Arthur was checking out the shotgun, thinking it needed a good cleaning, when he heard a whistle outside. He cautiously went to the door and peeked around to see Grace mounted on her horse outside.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" he asked angrily, stepping outside.
"Warning you that the law's on their way," she replied.
"Aw, shit."
"Get on, I'll get you to your horse," she moved her horse closer to him. He jumped on behind her and they galloped back to Arthur's horse just as a posse of lawmen showed up.
"Thanks," he said as he got off her horse. "How did you know?"
"You weren't exactly quiet," she said. "It was only a matter of time before the law showed up."
"What are you doing out here?"
"Not shooting people." She watched him mount his horse. "So this is your new horse?"
"Yeah, needed a new one," Arthur patted his horse on the neck, "Was just borrowing other horses after my old one died."
"Oh, sorry to hear that. So what's this one's name?"
"Uh, Smokey," he replied, "That's the name he came with."
"I like it, suits his colouring."
"So did you name your horse, or did she come with that name?" he asked as they headed towards the road.
"I named her. Tuula means 'wind' in Finnish, which I thought was appropriate given how fast she is."
"Where'd you get her?"
"Up north near the Canadian border in the wild. Took me nearly four months to find her."
"It took you four months to track her?"
Grace laughed a bit. "No, I was without a horse and I needed to find just the right one. I prefer to train them myself, I think the ones you buy in stables and farms are too broken."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, a horse should retain some of its personality, don't you think? Even if it is goddamn annoying sometimes," she poked at Tuula's neck. "But Smokey seems to be a good horse. Is he fast?"
"Yeah, he's pretty fast."
"He'd have to be to outrun the law. Anyway, I have to head into town. You going that way, or elsewhere?"
"Nah, I should get back," he said. "So, are you able to defend yourself out here?"
"Yes, why?" she frowned slightly.
"It's just... there's a lot of O'Driscolls about and they ain't too friendly."
"I know, but I can handle myself. Took down that bear, didn't I?"
"Arrows are slower than bullets."
"Yes, but I'm fine. Didn't realise you were so concerned."
Arthur thought a moment, then took out his pistol and handed it to her. "Here, never know when you might need it."
"Thank you, but-," she tried to hand it back.
"Just... take it," he insisted.
She shrugged and put it away in her saddlebag. "See you around, Mr. Morgan."
A few days later in camp, Miss Grimshaw approached him.
"Mr. Morgan, that Mary Gillis was sniffing around, brought you a letter. I put it by your bed. Oh, and there was also a small parcel."
"Thanks, Miss Grimshaw."
"Never did like that Mary woman," she said and walked away. Arthur felt his heart somersault in his chest. He hadn't seen Mary in years, not since they had gone their separate ways and before she married another man. What could she want?
He saw the letter on his table along with the parcel. He opened the letter and read it. Mary was staying in Valentine and requested to see him. He sat on his bed, re-reading the letter. He wondered what she wanted. His mind reeled through all the possibilities.
He folded the letter carefully into his pouch and picked up the parcel. It wasn't postmarked and was simply addressed to Mr. A. Morgan. He cut the string and opened the box to find the pistol he had given Grace inside. There was no note giving an explanation. He felt disappointed and found himself worrying about her. But why should he worry about some woman he barely knew? He took out Mary's letter again. He had better things to think about.
Saw Mary again. I feel like the luckiest man alive and I feel like a fool. That woman confuses me and plays me for a fiddle like no one else alive. Her little brother Jamie had joined some religious order and needed saving, or so she and the god awful daddy seemed to have thought. I took him home, after a pathetic little squabble.
Mary was elated to see her brother back, safe and sound. She thanked Arthur profusely, and seemed like she wanted to hug him but stopped herself. He escorted them both to the train. Before she got on, she turned back to Arthur and tried to speak.
"Oh," she sighed, "You'll never change. I know that."
Arthur could only raise his hand in a half-hearted wave as the train pulled out of the station. He watched until it disappeared around the hill.
"You could change, you know."
He jumped at the familiar voice. He turned and saw Grace sitting on the back of the bench, cutting into an apple with a knife.
"Jesus, will you stop doing that?"
"Why won't you change? She's the love of your life, isn't she?" she said, eating an apple slice.
"Ain't your business," he growled.
"Okay," she jumped down off the bench and stood next to him. "But you could change, you know. Have a better life."
"I have people to take care of," he tried to brush her off.
"I know," she said, "It was just a suggestion."
"Stop following me."
"You should stop following me." She poked him in the chest with the hand holding the half-eaten apple.
"Who are you working for?"
"Nobody."
"Then why are you following me?"
She shrugged. "Same reason you're following me."
"Just what I need," he said to himself, but didn't move. "Why did you send back the gun?"
"I don't need it." She took another bite of her apple.
"I wanted you to be safer."
"Why do you care if I'm safe or not?"
"I don't know. Just don't want to see you get hurt, is all."
"I won't."
"How do you know?"
"I just do." Grace finished eating the apple and tossed the core off the platform. "See you around, Mr. Morgan," she said, pocketing her knife, and walked into the train station. He hesitated a moment, then followed. She was nowhere to be seen and somehow, he wasn't surprised.
Upon his return to camp, he had just sat down with a bowl of Pearson's stew when Lenny galloped in and stumbled off his horse.
"They got Micah!" he shouted, as the rest of gang ran to see what was happening.
"What's going on?" Dutch asked.
"He's been arrested for murder! They nearly lynched me," Lenny bent over to catch his breath, "They got Micah in the sheriff's in Strawberry, and there's talk of hanging him."
"Here's hoping," said Arthur.
"Arthur!" Dutch frowned at him.
"What? The fool brought it on himself!"
"You think I can't see past his bluster to the heart inside?"
Arthur scoffed. "I ain't saving that fool."
"Well I can't go! My face is already all over West Elizabeth!" Dutch said, "He would do the same for you."
"I don't think he would, but... fine," Arthur gave in, reluctantly, then turned to Lenny, "You okay, Lenny?"
"Yeah, course I am."
"You don't look okay."
"You take that kid into town, Valentine, not Strawberry," Dutch ordered, "Get him drunk. And no crazy business."
"I've given that up!" Arthur insisted.
"Then you get Micah out of that jail!"
Arthur shook his head. 'No crazy business', but sure, go break Micah out of jail.
Went off drinking with young Lenny. Thanks to my own peculiar genius for trouble when drunk, the evening did not go quite according to plan, but somehow neither of us got killed or arrested for murder, I mean, we got arrested of course, but not for murder, at least. I don't think it was for murder because they let us out. Whole thing is a bit of a blur.
"Arthur! Arthur, you alive?"
Arthur slowly woke up, his head pounding. He sat up to see they were in jail.
"Ugh, what did we do?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Lenny.
"You pair of degenerates," said the deputy, "there's a fine for drunken violence in this town."
"We didn't do a thing," said Arthur.
"You're lucky no one got killed."
"Well... I don't remember," Arthur brushed him off.
"Lucky for you your lady friend already paid your fine," the deputy got up and unlocked the jail cells. "Said you were both idiots but good men."
Lenny and Arthur left the sheriff's, shielding their eyes from the impossibly bright sun. Lenny vomited and leaned against the post.
"Who do you think paid our fine?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Arthur, "Certainly wasn't Grimshaw, she'd've let us rot. Karen, maybe?"
"Karen would've joined us," Lenny chuckled, "Anyway, I'm gonna head back."
"Yeah, I'm just going to sit down here and feel sorry for myself." Arthur sat against the post as Lenny rode away.
"Good morning, sunshine!"
"Oh god, not you," he groaned.
"Here, drink up." Grace sat next to him, handing him a canteen. Arthur took it and drank the water quickly. It was a welcome relief to his parched throat.
"Thanks," he handed it back to her.
"So, have a good night?"
He mumbled in response.
"You know, you're quite the dancer when you're drunk."
"Why am I not surprised you were there?" he laid back and covered his face with his hands.
"I was just trying to enjoy a nice drink when you two showed up."
"Yeah, I was trying to get his mind off nearly being lynched."
"I'd say you succeeded."
"I don't remember much."
"Well, to sum up, there was shouting, dancing, singing, a bit of a punch-up, vomit, and then you tried to outrun the law."
"Ugghhh."
"Yep, well I best be heading off," she patted his shoulder then stood up.
"Wait, hold on," Arthur stood up as well, staggering as he regained his balance, "Is that my hat?"
"It sure is," she grinned as she adjusted his hat on her head, "I think it suits me very well, what do you think?"
"I think you should give it back."
"Pfft," she handed his hat out to him, "I guess it was too big for me anyway."
"So was it you who paid our fine?"
"Yeah, figured you'd be feeling awful enough this morning without having to worry about getting out of jail."
"Thanks."
"Any time. See you around, Mr. Morgan."
Arthur watched her mount up on her horse and trot down the road. He couldn't understand it. Why was she always around? And why did she even bother to help him and Lenny out? But he had other things to worry about now.
Goddamn Micah. Arthur wondered if he could take his time getting to Strawberry and, whoops, get there too late to save that fool from being hanged. He sighed, and knew that as much as he wanted to, he couldn't do it. Not when Dutch was depending on him.
