The following morning, Arthur woke up to find himself alone. He quickly sat up, hitting his head on the top bunk. He looked around but didn't see Grace. The fire in the stove was still going strong like it had been stoked not too long ago. He then realised the blanket she had wrapped around herself was draped over him. She probably left, but at least she left the fire going.

He got up and inspected a small pot on the firestove. It seemed to filled with oatmeal with extra things added to it, but he couldn't quite make out what they were. He tried a spoonful and though it was piping hot, it was pretty good. He scooped some out into a dish and sat at the table to eat. As he did, he remembered the map he had found in Flaco Hernandez's cabin, took it out and laid it out on the table.

It looked like there was a hill with a rock formation on it, with some dead trees. He wasn't sure where that would be.

The door opened and Grace came in, brushing snow off her coat. "Damn, it's cold out this morning," she said.

"So you ain't left yet?"

"Obviously not," she looked down at the table. "What's that?"

"Another map, got it from Flaco Hernandez," he pushed it towards her.

"Oh, this is near Rhodes, down in Lemoyne," she said after looking over it for a moment, "This is Face Rock," she pointed at the rock formation, "Fairly easy to spot once you're there."

"Okay," he ate another spoonful of the oatmeal.

"Is it good?" she asked, trying to suppress a smile.

"Oh yeah, what's in it? I've never had anything like it before."

"Probably because I made it for the horses."

Arthur paused mid-bite. "What?"

"It's an oatmeal mash that I made for the horses to help warm them up a bit."

"Oh." He pushed his plate away.

"Not going to finish it then?" she asked with a smile, "I mean, it's not going to poison you or turn you into a horse."

"The horses can have it."

"Such a gentleman," she took the plate and scraped the contents into another bowl, then spooned the rest of the mash out of the pot, "I wasn't sure if you'd want anything to eat this morning since we ate fairly late last night, but I guess I should've made something else." She mixed the mash in the bowl with her hand. "So, do you want to stay here, or head out?"

"I better head out," he stood and put out the fire as Grace folded her blanket and rolled up his bedroll.

"So have you been up to O'Creagh's Run for that other map?" she asked as she brought the bowl of mash outside with Arthur following.

"Nah, not yet. I'm surprised you ain't been up there for it."

"Why would I? It's yours." She fed the mash to their horses.

"Well, I figure since you got the last one..."

"Only because the Pinkertons might have been in the area. But I suppose I could pick up the one at O'Creagh's Run since I live not too far from there."

"Don't live up there much if you're always following me," Arthur packed up his bedroll and tightened the cinch on his saddle.

"Heh, good point," she laughed as she offered the last of the mash to Arthur's horse. Tuula reached over to nip him away. "Oy, you've had enough!" Grace flicked Tuula's nose. The appaloosa snorted, annoyed.

"So what do you put in that? We got someone helpin' with the horses now, maybe he could use it."

"Oatmeal, molasses, apples, and carrots. Sometimes I add a bit of alfalfa if I can get some. I usually only make it when it's cold, but it can be a nice treat any time."

"Okay, I'll let him know," Arthur nodded, making a mental note to tell Kieran. Kieran may have been running with the O'Driscolls, but at least he was useful by caring for the horses.

Grace put the bowl back in the cabin and a few minutes later, returned with a piece of paper. "Here, I wrote it all down. Just in case." She handed it to Arthur.

"I have good memory," he said, briefly admiring her artistic writing before putting the list in his satchel.

"Heh, if you say so," she said as she mounted up.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, mounting up as well.

"Because if you had as good memory as you think you do, you'd realise we first met a few months ago."

Arthur frowned as they started riding around the frozen lake. "What? When? Where?"

"It was only briefly. You were buying your journal, I think. I had an armful of paints and sketchbooks which I ended up dropping and you helped me pick them up."

Arthur thought back to when he had bought his journal. That felt like so long ago now. He did remember helping a young woman pick up her books while another man told her off for dropping them.

"Your husband ain't gonna be so pleased to know you're dropping his supplies, sweetheart," the man had said.

"I don't have a husband, thank you," Grace had replied coolly as she and Arthur set the paints and books on the counter. She had thanked Arthur and he was about to leave when the man spoke rudely to her again.

"Then how can you afford such expensive paints? Can't imagine a silly thing like you turning tricks."

Arthur had been about to intervene when she turned to the man. "That's because I robbed and killed a silly man like you for his money, would you care to find out if that's true or not?"

Arthur had smirked and left, figuring she would be fine.

"Wait, you didn't actually rob and kill someone for his money, did you?"

"Do I look like the kind of person who would do that?"

Arthur looked at her for a moment. "No. Well, maybe not the killing part. I don't know about the robbing."

"Heh, well, that man didn't know that. Anyway, I think I'm going to head this way," she said as they came to a fork in the road, "I'll see you around."

Arthur waved goodbye as she headed west along the road while he turned to head east and go back to camp. He wondered along the way what would have happened if he had started talking to her then. He also wondered why, if she had been in Blackwater, she ended up in the mountains at the same time as them. And why did she now seem to be hanging around Valentine when they moved to the Heartlands?

A few days after arriving back in camp, Arthur rode into Valentine to look into a bounty job Uncle had told him about. It was always strange to be working with the law, but it paid good money. Usually it was petty thieves and drunken philanderers, but sometimes they were murderers and serial robbers.

"Well, looky here," the sheriff said as Arthur walked in, "Maybe this is our man."

"You look familiar, mister," the deputy added.

Damn, maybe Arthur should've skipped taking a bounty job in a town where he'd already caused enough trouble.

"No matter, I assume you're not here for a chat, are you?" the sheriff leaned forward in his chair.

"No," Arthur replied.

"Well, then why don't you take a look at that poster over there," the sheriff nodded to the wall where a bounty poster hung.

"He's a low-down huckster, been poisoning folks with his miracle cure," the deputy said as Arthur took the poster down.

"Bring him in alive, and there's good money for it," said the sheriff, "But remember, we need him alive. I want to make sure the women he's widowed get compensation before he swings."

"Fella at the saloon said he was spotted over at the gorge, so check there," said the deputy as Arthur nodded and headed out.

"Benedict Albright," he said quietly to himself before mounting up and heading to the gorge.

He found Benedict Albright at a small camp overlooking the river. After spinning a yarn about needing medicine for his mother, Arthur apprehended the man and brought him in.

"Well, never thought I'd see you walk in and out of the sheriff's without being arrested."

Arthur jumped a little before noticing Grace leaning against a wagon smoking a cigarette. "Heh, just brought in a bounty."

"Oh, who?"

"Benedict Albright. Claimed he was a healer, a scientist, spoke to spirits, or some nonsense. Anyway he was killing folk with his so-called cures."

"Good thing you brought him in then," she pushed away from the wagon, "So how much you get?"

"Fifty dollars."

"Not bad," she nodded, impressed, "I suppose this means you can finally escape the Pinkertons, eh?"

"Hah, not even close," Arthur laughed.

Grace nodded and headed down the main road. Arthur unhitched his horse and followed her to her horse who was grazing near the stables. She reached into her saddlebag and took out a small pouch. "So I went up to O'Creagh's Run to see what was there. Turns out it was the last spot." She handed the pouch to Arthur, who was suprised at how heavy it was. He looked inside to see two gold bars.

"Jesus, was this all of it?"

"Of course," she said.

"Here," he offered her one of the gold bars, but she pushed it away.

"Nah, it's yours."

"You did most of the work."

Grace shrugged and jumped up onto her horse. "Still yours. Anyway, see you around." She trotted around him and rode away.

Arthur frowned as he watched her leave. While he certainly wasn't going to argue that she insisted he keep both gold bars, it was very curious that she didn't want one. Unless there was more and she lied about it.

Regardless, Dutch was very pleased to see Arthur's donation of the two gold bars and half the bounty payment and made a big speech to the rest of the gang about the importance of sticking together and making money no matter what. Arthur couldn't help but feel smug at the sulky look on Micah's face.

"So where'd you find all that?" Micah asked after Dutch finished.

"Got a map off a feller," Arthur said, heading over to his wagon.

"Awful convenient, if you ask me."

"Well no one asked you."

"Making us all look bad in front of Dutch."

"Then maybe you should be out there making money."

"Oh, I am," Micah sneered as he walked away, "I am."

Arthur rolled his eyes, sat on his cot, and took out his journal. He wrote a few lines about the bounty and of Grace finding that treasure. He didn't understand it. Anyone in their right mind would have kept all that gold, but she didn't. He was leaning towards believing that she had given him everything she found, but he still wasn't sure.


"Mr. Morgan, would you care to do some hunting for me?" Pearson approached Arthur a couple days later.

"What do you think I've been doing?" Arthur gestured towards the chuckwagon.

"And it's much appreciated, but what I'm looking for is elk. Much more tender and tastier than deer. A guy I met in town said the best ones are found over at Big Valley, west of Wallace Station."

"Yeah, I know it. I'll head out and see what I can find."

Arthur rode out, crossed the river, and followed the road around towards Big Valley. He recalled seeing a few elk at the valley when he saw Grace let Tuula loose. He wondered if she might be there again, or if he might find Tuula wandering around. But maybe not. He'd rather hunt without the distraction.

He heard a whistle from behind and shook his head in disbelief as he stopped and turned in the saddle. Grace and Tuula trotted to catch up with him.

"Hi, what brings you out this way?" she asked with a smile.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I was visiting Mr. Wróbel," she gestured up the hill to Wróbel's farm.

"Oh. How's he doing?"

"Much better," she said, "I met a Polish family down in Saint Denis and now they're up helping Mr. Wróbel on his farm."

"Speak any English, this family?"

"The mother does, she's from England, so they'll be okay. So long as they don't take on any loans from strange men again."

"Heh, well, I'm not the one giving out loans," Arthur said, "So where you headed? Or are you just following me again?"

"I thought I'd head back up to Barrow Lagoon and go skating again," she said as they continued down the road, "What about you? What kind of trouble are you getting into today?"

"Just going hunting. Our cook wants some elk."

"Oh, you even have your own cook? Fancy."

"Heh, well I guess his stews start getting a bit boring when they're the same day after day."

"And I imagine you need a lot of meat to feed everyone," she said, "So you're heading to the valley?" Arthur nodded. "Nice, good elk there. Don't kill any females. They're usually calving this time of year."

"I know, I only kill the ones with antlers."

"Good, I've come across an apalling number of hunters who didn't know that," she shook her head, "I'll ride with you to the valley since I'm heading in that direction anyway."

"Not like I have a choice, do I?"

"Heh, nope," she grinned at him, "Hey, looks like they haven't moved that tree off the path yet." She pointed ahead at the fallen tree the O'Driscolls had felled to try to steal back the banking coach Arthur and Micah had robbed.

"Coach is still in the river too," Arthur added, "Guess them O'Driscolls were either fished out or floated downriver."

"Stolen any more banking coaches lately?"

"Nah, haven't planned any," he said.

"Good. Hardworking people rely on banks to keep their money safe from miscreants such as yourself."

"I work hard!"

Grace thought for a moment. "You know, I never considered it before, but I suppose you have a point. However, you don't truly earn that money, do you? You just take other people's hard-earned money instead."

"And how do you earn yours?"

"By helping people. Even if I offer to help for free, most people insist on payment."

"What kind of stuff do you do then?"

"Oh, this and that," she said vaguely, "And no, I am not a 'lady of the night', as they say."

"Never said you were," Arthur raised his eyebrows at her. Grace was fairly pretty, in her own way, he supposed, but he couldn't see her offering certain services in bars and hotels.

"Just making it clear in case you started thinking that," she said. She was about to say something else, but Tuula suddenly sidestepped into Arthur and his horse, agitated. "Hey, what's wrong, girl?" Grace looked and saw a puddle of blood and what looked like bits of something - or someone - leading up the hill off the path.

"Damn, hope it's not another one like that feller under the railroad bridge," Arthur said.

"Well, let's go find out," she dismounted and Tuula trotted into the trees on the other side of the path. Arthur dismounted as well and they followed the bloody trail to some boulders. "Eurgh, looks like it is another one."

Arthur shook his head in disgust at the dismembered torso tied to the boulder with the words 'Do you see?' written beside it. He looked around and saw the head on another rock with a rolled up piece of paper in the mouth. "Ugh, Jesus, this some sort of sick trend?"

"What is it?"

"Huh, looks like it's torn from that first paper," he said, handing it to Grace before digging into his satchel to take out the other one. He held it up and Grace lined the second paper with the first.

"Hmm, well this looks like a crop field, but they're everywhere. The trees here narrow it down a bit, but I can't place it."

"What about this? Old chimney or something?"

"Lots of ruined buildings with old stone chimneys out there too."

"Something written on the back," he said, flipping his paper over. Grace did the same with hers and they lined them up.

"'You find me'?" she furrowed her eyebrows slightly, "Oh, so there's at least one more out there and it'll say 'Can you find me?'"

"Poor bastard, whoever that one will be."

"Yeah, hopefully we can find it before whoever did this kills many more people."

"You shouldn't do it alone," Arthur said as Grace handed him the second paper.

"That's why I said 'we'," she smiled up at him, "I'd say you do it yourself, but this fella seems pretty nasty." She glanced at the bloodied torso on the boulder.

"I can handle it," he put the paper clues in his satchel.

"Well, if you do, be careful," she gently squeezed his arm as she walked past him to the horses. Arthur followed, feeling slightly more at ease.

They mounted up and rode in silence to the valley. He looked over at Grace frequently and she seemed to be deep in thought. What was she thinking about? He hoped she wasn't about to go after that deranged killer by herself. As annoying as she is, he'd rather not find her mutilated corpse somewhere.

"You gonna be fine from here?" Arthur asked when they arrived in the valley.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" she looked a bit confused. Arthur shrugged. "Heh, well, good luck with hunting. See you around."

Pearson was pleased with the large elk Arthur had brought back to camp and that earned him a bit of a rest in camp. He spent most of it doing a few chores and making minor repairs to some of the wagons. It was nice to just have some down time, even for a short bit.


He headed out after a few days to see if he could find that treasure from Flaco Hernandez's map. Grace said it was down by Rhodes, but he wasn't entirely sure where that was. All he knew it was south somewhere, so he rode out in that direction. Maybe he could find some leads on the way too.

As he made his way along the road, he saw Grace and her horse walking along the riverside. He slowed his horse, staying on the road, and watched her, expecting her to turn and see him. But she was keeping her eyes on the river for some reason. After a few minutes, curiosity got the better of him and he rode down to her.

"Hey," Arthur said as he caught up.

"Oh, hello," she greeted him with a smile, "What are you doing down here?"

"Was heading down to that Face Rock, have a look around."

"Ah, well good luck."

"What about you? What you doing here?"

"I'm just looking for a spot to fish."

Arthur frowned slightly. "Ain't there a good spot back up by Limpany? Where you fished that one time?"

"Yes, but it was a good spot then. Not so much today."

"Oh. So how do you find a good spot then?"

"Ripples in the water. If there's a lot, and it's not raining obviously, then it's worth a look. Doesn't always work out, but it's a start."

"You sure like fishing, don't you?"

"I love it. It's usually quiet and I can catch enough to share with others."

"Huh. Well, that fella over there looks like he found a good spot," Arthur said, pointing at a man fishing off a dock further down the river.

"Let's go see if he's been catching anything," Grace urged Tuula into a trot with Arthur following. They reached the dock and dismounted. "Hi, how's the fishing here?" she asked the man.

The man groaned dramatically and turned to them. "Let me guess, you want an autograph?"

"Um, what?" Grace said, confused.

"Or a photograph?"

"Why?" Arthur said, equally confused.

"Because I'm, well, very famous," the man paused expectantly.

"Okay," Arthur said, looking over at Grace who shrugged, "Who are you?"

"Jeremy Gill, of course," he held out his arms.

"Who?" asked Arthur.

"Oh! You write those fishing articles in the newspaper," Grace said.

"Yes! Yes, I wrote those and I wrote my own books and have travelled all over the world, sharing my expertise on fishing," Jeremy Gill said excitedly, "So. Are you here for an autograph then?"

"Oh, no thank you," she shook her head, "I just wanted to know how the fishing was here."

"Thinking of taking up fishing after reading my articles? Good for you, though fishing isn't really for the weaker sex, you know."

Arthur scoffed into his hand as Grace narrowed her eyes.

"I'm already decent at fishing, thank you very much, and I think your articles are awful."

Jeremy Gill faltered for a moment. "Well, you don't know what you're talking about. I've even taught the pope how to fish."

"Which one?"

"Excuse me?"

"Which pope?" Grace asked.

"Well, the current one, of course, last one was too focused on his papal duties," he looked over at Arthur as if expecting him to agree.

"Uh huh. Well, sorry to bother you, Mr. Gill," she turned and headed back to her horse.

"Between you and me, would you like some tips on catching bigger fish? Not the tiddlers she probably brings home?" Jeremy leaned in closer to Arthur.

"Nah, she's fine on her own," he said, recalling the large salmon she had caught and cooked up in the mountains. "So you're famous for fishing?"

"Yes. You know, mothers often offer me their daughters."

"For what?"

"For marriage, of course. But I always say no. I'm married to the fish."

Arthur heard Grace snort from near the horses. He smirked slightly to himself. "So, this being famous for fishing, it pay well?"

"Of course. What I mostly do is send fans stuffed fish."

"Stuffed fish?"

"Yeah, here, let me show you." He led Arthur into the cabin at the dock and showed him the large mounted fish, offering to let him buy a few.

"No, it's kind of ridiculous."

"Oh, but people love it. Can't get enough fish, though." Jeremy paused. "You fish, of course?"

"Yeah, a little."

"You send me fish and I'll pay you for them. Nothing too rotten, or too small. No money in tiddlers and no one wants to imagine Jeremy Gill catching a tiddler." He handed Arthur a map. "Here, a map of the largest catches."

Arthur thanked him and left the cabin to where Grace was waiting.

"So did you get an autograph?" she joked.

"Hah, no, he apparently wants me to catch some fish so he can stuff 'em and sell 'em."

"He's worse than his newspaper articles," she shook her head and mounted up, "Always knew he was full of shit."

"How do you mean?" Arthur mounted as well and they continued down the river.

"He didn't even know which pope he apparently taught to fish," she said smugly, "The current one was elected in 1878, which was long enough to figure out what his damn name is. Bet Mr. Gill has never been out of the country."

"Heh, well, he did seem to have his head stuck up his own ass. Just hope he pays."

"He seems to be the kind of guy who would pay to make himself look better. So what sort of fish is he looking for?"

"He gave me a map, but it might take a while. I ain't much of a fisherman."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," she smiled at him warmly, "Anyway, I think I'm going to find a boat and row out into the lake. See you around."