Arthur broke Micah out of jail. The whole thing had gone wrong and now he was a wanted man. Again. He always had a bad feeling about Micah, ever since they picked him up. He should've just let him hang, but then Dutch would blame him and that's the last thing he needed right now.
He paused at the riverbank, not wanting to go back to camp right away. He dismounted and washed his hands and face in the river.
"Hello, Mr. Morgan."
He jumped and nearly fell into the river. He turned and saw Grace on her appaloosa on the riverbank.
"Will you stop doing that?" He picked up his hat from the water, knocking it against his leg to try to dry it off.
"Probably not." She grinned at him. "You let your guard down too much. It's dangerous out here, you said so yourself."
"Yeah, but I can usually hear horses coming up behind me."
"Clearly not."
"What are you doing here?"
"On my way to Valentine since Strawberry is on lockdown."
"Oh."
"Something about a jail break and a massacre. Wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"
"No," Arthur sighed. "Yes." No point in trying to lie to her. "But it wasn't supposed to go down like that."
"What did you think was going to happen, blowing open the jail like that?"
"Goddamn Micah," he swore to himself. "We were supposed to get out but he had to go back for his damn guns."
"And instead of fleeing yourself, you stayed with him."
"I had to."
"No you didn't. You could've escaped, left him to his own fate."
"He would've died."
"Didn't know you cared so much about him. I thought he was an asshole, myself."
"You've met Micah?" Arthur raised his eyebrows, surprised.
"His reputation precedes him."
"Well I don't care much about him."
"Yet you killed all those men to save him."
"Weren't for me I saved him."
"Of course." She turned her horse. "But one day you might need to decide whether or not to continue being someone else's pawn. See you around, Mr. Morgan."
"I ain't nobody's pawn!" he shouted after her as she trotted up the river. He was confused by her since she seemed to know more than she let on, yet he was fixated.
Arthur needed a drink.
He went to the saloon in Valentine, much to the bartender's chagrin. The more he thought of the crap Micah caused, the more he drank. The bartender tried cutting him off a couple times, but Arthur threatened to turn the place upside down if he didn't. No one else was willing to take Arthur on after that fight he had with Tommy.
"Sir, I think you've had enough tonight," the bartender suggested again.
"Why don' you shut up?" Arthur slurred, "Why is my glasses empty?"
"Hey pal, why don't you go sleep it off, huh?" said another patron, putting his hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"Why don' you shove off?" Arthur pushed him. The man fell to the floor then got up angry.
"Is that how you want to play it?" the man advanced on Arthur and punched him. Arthur fought back while someone ran for the sheriff's. He had just knocked out the man, ready to take on another, when a couple of lawmen entered the bar.
"Okay, how about you come outside with us," one of them said.
"Never!" Arthur raised his fists, ready for another fight.
"THERE YOU ARE!" a familiar woman came in, pushing past the lawmen.
"Heeyyy, I know you!" Arthur pointed at her. "You're purdy."
"You know him, ma'am?" the deputy asked her.
"Unfortunately," said Grace, now crying loudly, "He's my husband, and he left me to look after our thirteen children so he could drink here and... and..."
"Wait, what shildren?" Arthur was confused. He didn't remember any of this, but then he was pretty drunk right now. The room kept spinning.
"It's okay, ma'am," said the deputy.
"I had to leave young Lenny in charge and my horse has just about collapsed on the way here because she pulls the plow all day and not to mention Granny's lumbago problem," Grace sobbed.
"Wha-, I don' remember any of this," said Arthur.
"SEE WHAT I HAVE TO DEAL WITH?" Grace wailed loudly into the deputy's shoulder who awkwardly patted her on the back as everyone in the saloon stared.
"Um, do you want to grab a room over at the hotel so your husband can sleep it off? Normally I'd make the drunken reprobates sleep it off in jail, but I guess I can make an exception this time."
"I'd be ever so grateful," Grace sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.
"Of course, ma'am," said the deputy before turning to Arthur. "Sir, if you would go with your wife?"
Arthur stumbled after them out of the saloon, falling over in the muddy road. The other lawman helped him up and walked with him to the hotel.
"Sir, a room for this couple," the deputy said to the clerk, "oh, and a bath."
"Oh! Um, I'm not so sure about the bath," Grace stammered.
"Surely you'd rather him not be so dirty?"
"Um, I suppose not," she said.
They helped Arthur into the bath room followed by Grace. She thanked them as they left and closed the door.
"Damn it," she said to herself, wiping her face of the tears she had forced herself to make.
"What'sh happening?" asked Arthur, slumped in a chair.
"You are having a bath," Grace said, removing her coat.
"Why?"
"Because you look like you rolled in pig shit."
"Hahaha, I know a pig, his name ish Micah," Arthur laughed.
"Jesus christ," Grace pinched the bridge of her nose, "I should've told them to make you sleep it off in jail."
"I've been in jail, with mah boy Lenny," Arthur said as Grace removed his coat and hung it up. "We got in trouble."
"Yes, you're always getting in trouble when you drink," she said. "Can you manage to undress yourself and get into the bath?"
"I thought you's my wife," Arthur slurred.
"Jesus," Grace put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "I can't wait until you remember this tomorrow." She helped him undress and get into the bath. While he sat there, she tried to wipe as much mud and dirt off his clothes as she could.
"Why is nothing happening?" he asked, poking at some of the soap bubbles.
"You have to wash yourself," Grace said sternly.
"Don' wanna."
"Tough. Do it."
Arthur groaned but drunkenly started washing himself while Grace just shook her head, wondering what she got herself into. When he finished, she handed him a towel then turned away as he got out. She handed him his clothes, having to assist a little. Then she grabbed her own coat and helped him into a room across the hall.
"Is this our house?" asked Arthur.
"How much did you drink tonight?" she asked as he fell to the floor.
"All of it," he laughed.
"Well I'm going to bed," she said, "You are sleeping on the floor."
"Haha, just like jail," he said.
"Yep, so you'll feel right at home."
Arthur woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and feeling like he was about to get sick. He groaned as he sat up, covering his eyes from the light. His stomach lurched and he vomited into a bucket that suddenly appeared in front of him. When he finished, someone handed him a small towel. He wiped his mouth with it, then looked up to see who gave it to him.
"Ugh, how did you get in here?" he asked, handing Grace the towel.
"Just wait, it'll come to you," she said, handing him a glass of water. She left the room with the bucket and towel while Arthur drank the water. He thought hard, trying to remember the night before. He remembered getting a couple of drinks at the saloon, but then it got blurry after that. But after a few minutes, he started to remember. He nearly started another fight but was almost arrested. Then Grace showed up, there was something about a wife and children, he fell in the mud, then he had a bath...
Oh.
Damn. He quickly stood up, only to lose his balance and fall onto the bed just as Grace came back in.
"Grace, I'm so sorry," he said, sitting up.
"For what?" she tried not to smile.
"For... you know."
"Be specific."
"For being a damn fool."
"No apologies for your poor, dear wife and thirteen children?" she smirked.
"Jesus, you actually said that, didn't you?" he put his face in his hands.
"Oh yes. Everyone thinks you're scum now."
"Well, they ain't wrong," he looked up at her. "And you were there when I had a bath?"
"Yep. Don't worry, I didn't see anything I wasn't supposed to."
"Oh."
"So do you wanna get out of here?"
"Yeah," he stood up and Grace handed him his hat and coat. He followed Grace out of the room, avoiding eye contact with anyone. His own horse was hitched outside while Tuula grazed freely near the barn.
"Well, I'll see you around," she said, whistling for her horse and mounting up.
"Hey, wait," Arthur mounted his horse, "Um, thanks."
"Any time, Mr. Morgan," she rode away as he watched. Why did she help him? Not that he was going to object to not having to spend another night in jail. He decided he had had enough of Valentine and rode back to camp.
The following day, Arthur rode out to meet Micah at his small camp outside of Strawberry. Micah had said he wasn't going to return to Dutch without some sort of peace offering, which Arthur couldn't help but worry about. Micah was always such a hot-head, especially after that nonsense in Strawberry after the jail break.
Turned out, Micah heard of a banking coach they could rob. After taking care of the guards and drivers, they were on their way back to camp with the whole thing when they were ambushed by the O'Driscolls. They shot the lot of them, turning the river crossing red with blood.
At least it was a decent payday. Micah headed back to camp to see Dutch while Arthur stayed behind to see if the dead O'Driscolls had anything decent on them. Maybe a clue to where Colm is hiding these days...
"Goodness, what happened here?"
Arthur whirled around with his pistol raised. "Jesus, I nearly shot you!"
"No, you didn't," Grace leaned forward in her saddle, "To 'nearly shoot' me, you'd have to actually fire the gun."
He rolled his eyes and holstered his gun again. "What are you doing here?"
"Heading out to Big Valley."
"Why?"
"Why do you care?"
Arthur shrugged.
"So, are you trying to get yourself arrested or what?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I assume this banking coach didn't destroy itself and all these fellas here didn't drop dead on their own accord."
"O'Driscolls ambushed us," he gestured to the bodies.
"And the coach?"
"Stole it."
"So, get the loot then."
"Already got it."
Grace blinked at him for a moment. "Okay." She trotted past him in the river. "Say hi to the lawmen for me when they show up in about a minute."
Arthur watched, then noticed a group of lawmen make their way along the road. He whistled for his horse and galloped in the direction Grace was heading. He heard someone yell from behind and he kicked his horse to go faster. He nearly ran into Grace who had stopped just around the corner.
"Hey, we gotta go!" he said, looking behind him.
"What do you mean 'we'? I didn't do anything," she smirked.
"Hey, you!" a lawman rode up.
"Shit," Arthur turned and rode away as fast as he could. He rode into the trees and slowed when he couldn't hear anyone behind him. He stopped and looked, but no one had followed him. He stayed where he was until he heard hoofbeats getting closer.
"You gonna hide in there all day?" Grace called out to him. He breathed a sigh of relief and rode out. "I'm surprised you didn't shoot him."
"I would have if you weren't there."
"How kind of you."
"What you tell him?"
"He asked about why you were there, I said you were simply seeing if anyone was still alive while I was going to find some help. He asked why you ran, I said it's because you're not right in the head and that you believe the law are in cohorts with the devil."
"Heh, and what he say?"
"He said he was sorry and that he could help me get you into an asylum. I said that wasn't necessary because you're harmless."
Arthur laughed and shook his head. "And he really believed that?"
"Oh yes, especially when I told him you once cried when you accidentally killed a squirrel," she grinned.
"Jesus," he pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn't help but smile, "So where did you say you were heading, Big Valley?"
"Yeah, just down the road a bit. You can come along, if you want."
"Sure, why not," he urged his horse into a trot next to her. He had looked over the valley not too long ago when he and Micah were waiting for the coach. When they emerged from the trees, he could see now how nice it was. Beautiful, even.
"Here we are," Grace halted Tuula and patted her on the neck before dismounting. Grace unsaddled her horse and removed the bridle. "Alright, stay out of trouble, you," she said, patting Tuula's rump. Tuula trotted forward a few steps before bucking and twisting in the air and galloping down the valley.
"What, you letting her go?"
"She'll come back," Grace said, unrolling a blanket on the ground, "I let her be wild, kick up her heels, try to eat wolves."
"Eat wolves?"
"Well, maybe not actually eat them, but I've seen her drag a dead wolf carcass by the tail until it fell apart for whatever reason," she shook her head.
"So what do you do while your horse is out running around?"
"I stay here. Set up camp if I need to," Grace sat down on the blanket, "Sometimes Tuula just wants to run for a short bit, other times she takes a day or two."
"And you ain't worried about her?"
"Nah. She'll be fine," she paused, "So have you gone after those gunslingers for that silly man?"
"Oh. No, not yet," he leaned forward in his saddle as his horse bent down to graze, "I've been busy."
"I know, too busy robbing and beating people," she then lay down on her back with her hands clasped under her head. "Off you go, then."
Arthur didn't move. "You ain't afraid of anything happening to you?"
"No."
"It's a wonder you ain't dead yet," he shook his head in disbelief.
She looked at him for a moment. "I know," she sighed. "Anyway, don't worry about me." She pulled her hat over her eyes to signal she was done talking. Arthur shrugged to himself and left her.
Guess Billy Midnight never escaped his past. Guy was deranged about shooting some fella in the back or in their sleep or something else very sensible in my opinion. Anyway, guilt had consumed him, so like a real proper gentleman, he tried to kill me.
Met Emmet Granger. I cannot think of a single man I have enjoyed seeing dead more than this bastard. Pig shit and hatred and he still threw a knife at me.
Found Flaco Hernandez for that silly book. Killed him. Bastard jumped out of the way but I still got him. Didn't seem like the type I was going to befriend anyway.
Arthur slowly made his way around the mountain, trying to find a spot to camp before dusk fell. As he and his horse made their way down a steep hill to a frozen lake, he could see someone skating on it. It was a woman and he was pretty sure he knew who it was.
When he reached the edge of the lake, Grace skated towards him. She was wearing a long dark blue wool skirt with a long black coat over it, as well as a red knitted hat and scarf.
"I knew you were following me," she smiled at him as she slowed to a stop.
"What are you doing out all the way out here?"
"Skating. I got this cigarette card for an ice skater and heard he had lived out here. Thought I'd come check it out."
"So where is this fella?"
She pointed over towards a small cabin on the other side of the lake. Arthur rode over with Grace following on her skates. He dismounted near Tuula and headed towards the cabin door.
"Not there," she said, "Over there." She pointed toward an opened coffin near a defaced grave marker.
"Jesus," Arthur walked over and read the grave marker. "'No Ice in Hell'. Damn, who did this guy piss off?"
Grace shrugged.
"Hold on, are you wearing his ice skates?" he asked, his eyes widening.
"No other skates around," she said, lifting her skirt a bit to show off the skates. "They're a bit big on me, had to stuff the toes to make them fit. But it's fun. Wanna have a go?"
"Nah," he replied.
"I wonder where I can buy my own," Grace said, trying to skate backward but tripped and fell.
"You okay?" Arthur rushed over to her, sliding carefully on the ice and helping her up.
"I am, my behind isn't," she said, rubbing her rear. "Oo, look!" She pointed across the lake where a grizzly was sniffing along the edge. Arthur quickly went to his horse and took out his rifle. Grace followed in the snow. "Don't, it's not bothering us." She whispered.
"Well, just in case."
Arthur watched the bear with his rifle ready while Grace changed out of the skates into her boots. She stood next to him and they watched as the bear ambled out onto the ice, still sniffing about. They heard a howl and a small pack of wolves made their way onto the ice behind the bear. The bear stood up and roared at them as the wolves crouched and surrounded it. All at once the wolves attacked. The bear swiped his paw at one, hitting it in the face and killing it instantly. Another wolf leapt on the bear's back, grabbing hold with its teeth. Another had managed to latch onto the bear's throat.
The grizzly finally escaped the wolves, attacking and killing them. But the bear itself was having trouble staying upright. It swayed about on the ice before falling. Grace and Arthur could see it breathing heavily. Grace made a move towards the ice, but Arthur grabbed her arm.
"What are you doing?"
"I just want a closer look," she said, wrenching her arm out of his grip. She skid slowly across the ice towards the bear, keeping her distance before stopping. Arthur followed carefully. Grace moved closer to the bear, talking to it but Arthur couldn't hear what she saying. She knelt down by its head, petting it gently.
"Jesus, that thing could kill you!" Arthur shouted.
"It's hurt badly," she replied. "It's bleeding out." Arthur got closer and noticed the pool of blood forming beneath the bear. The wolf had probably severed a major artery. The bear groaned in pain. "Can you...?"
Arthur nodded. Grace pet the bear again and stood back before Arthur shot it dead.
"Poor things," she said. "They were all just trying to survive."
"Just like the rest of us," said Arthur.
"Kill or be killed," she said, "Or in this case, kill and be killed anyway." She looked down at the bear's corpse sadly. "I suppose you could skin it, get some money for its pelt or something. Could cook up the meat, too, or save it for your family."
Arthur nodded, took out his knife and got to work. Grace watched, pulling her coat tighter around herself as the wind blew harder.
"It's getting dark, we need to find a place for the night," he said as he finished and rolled up the bear's pelt.
"The cabin is still useful," she said, "Just need some more wood for the fire." They returned to the cabin and Grace removed a small axe from her saddlebag.
"Here, I'll do it," said Arthur, after he had placed the bear's pelt on his own horse. She handed him the axe.
"I'll go make the place a bit more cozy." She led Tuula back to the cabin.
Arthur chopped branches off trees for the next half hour. The trunks were too frozen and the axe was too small to try to cut down a whole tree. When he figured he had enough, he brought the branches back to the cabin. Grace had thrown a blanket over each of their horses outside. Inside, she was deboning a large fish on the table.
"That'll do nicely," she said when he walked in.
"Where did you get the fish?" he asked, placing some of the branches in the stove, poking at the fire to keep it going.
"Caught it at Lake Isabella, other side of the mountain," she said. "Here, have a rest, you earned it." She stood up, offering her chair. He sat down and quietly watched her cook up the fish on the stove. "Here you are." She handed him the fish on a plate, then pulled up another chair.
"So who is this guy? The one who lived here?" Arthur asked.
"Some sort of big ice skater, what was it, figure skating? Whatever that is. Had an accident some time ago, maybe that's how he lost his leg? Maybe he died because he couldn't skate anymore."
"Sounds like a dumb reason to die."
"Sometimes people can be so heartbroken over the loss of someone or something they loved. I mean, what would you do if you suddenly couldn't go around shooting and robbing people?"
"That probably means I'm dead already," he joked.
"Exactly." She smiled at him. "So what brought you all the way out here?"
"Remember that Calloway clown? Came out here to find Flaco Hernandez."
"How did that go?"
"Well he's dead now."
"Didn't want to talk, I suppose? Any actual stories about Calloway?"
"Nope. No one wants to talk, except for that Granger fella and he just wanted to talk about himself."
"I bet those were some pleasant stories."
"Oh yeah. Awful man." He ate a few bites before speaking again. "There's only Black Belle left. Want to go meet her with me? She might not try to shoot two of us."
"Bet she would, and yes, I'll go with you. When?"
"Not sure yet. Have some other things still to do," Arthur took out the photo of Black Belle from his satchel. "But according to this, she's somewhere near Bluewater Marsh."
"Ugh, the swamps," Grace wrinkled her nose. "I try to avoid going there as much as possible."
"Why?"
"It's just horrible. Well, I think so anyway." She picked up their empty plates to rinse them in a nearby bucket of water.
"We sleeping here?"
"I am, but you don't have to sleep if you don't want to," she said as she finished up. "There's only one bed, though." She looked over to the bunk bed. "The top bunk isn't sturdy anymore. It'll be warmer if we share."
"I don't know," Arthur hesitated.
"Heh, I don't mean anything scandalous, just want to stay warm. I'm taking the bed," she picked up a blanket off the back of her chair, "You decide where you're going to sleep." She pulled her coat around herself tighter then crawled onto the bottom bunk, wrapping the blanket around herself.
Arthur sat there for a few minutes before deciding to just sleep on the floor beside the stove. Grace had already brought in his bedroll from his horse and he rolled it out by the stove. Before lying down, he looked over at her. He could see her shivering, even under the thick blanket. He sighed, picked up his bedroll and went over to the bed.
"Hey, move over," he poked her in the shoulder. She looked up at him and moved closer to the wall. He lay next to her, throwing the bedroll over both of them. The bed creaked as he turned to face her.
"Much better," she said quietly, turning to face him.
"Don't usually sleep this close to anyone," he said.
"Neither do I, but it's too cold to sleep seperately." She paused. "Do you snore?"
"Probably. Do you?"
"Probably," she smiled at him. "Good night, Arthur."
"Good night, Grace."
She closed her eyes and was soon fast asleep. Arthur stayed awake, watching her. He hadn't seen her face this close before. Even in the dim light of the oil lamp still lit on the table, he could see the light freckles across her pale nose. He could also see a strange scar on her right temple, barely covered by her dark hair and hat. As he was wondering how she got it, he fell asleep.
