Arthur rode back across the battlefield to start heading back to camp. When he reached the road, he noticed large puddles of blood leading up the hill. He dismounted and followed the trail to another bloodied, headless torso strung up in the branches of a tree. Beside it was written the word, 'BEHOLD'.
"Aw, Jesus," Arthur shook his head and walked around the tree to find the poor soul's head on a spike with another rolled up paper in his mouth. He pulled it out and saw a drawing of ruined building with a cellar door, plus the combination for a lock. As Grace had predicted, on the back of the paper was the word 'CAN'. He took out the other pieces and spread them together on a nearby rock. So the old stone chimney belonged to this ruined house and cellar. But where could it be?
Did he even want to find it? He put the pieces back in his satchel and returned to his horse. On the way back to camp, he decided he should try to find this sick maniac before he killed too many more people. While he himself wasn't a good man, he certainly didn't torture, cut up, and display his victims for all to see.
And Grace was not going to accompany him when he found this guy. But given how often she shows up wherever he is, it might prove difficult. But he wouldn't let her. He's seen what this person was capable of and he wasn't going to let anything happen to her.
In camp, he tried to think of all the places he'd seen ruined houses with stone chimneys. There were some ruined buildings in a nearby field, but it probably wasn't one of them. Maybe it would be somewhere further north, near Valentine or Strawberry perhaps. If no one needed him for anything, he'll ride up tomorrow to check.
Arthur found the cellar west of Valentine, locked behind the combination written on the map. When he opened the cellar door, he was hit by an unimaginably strong odor of rotting flesh. He covered his mouth with his bandana as he took out his lantern to descend down the stairs. The floor was covered in coagulated blood and other unrecognizable bits. There were shelves of human skulls and other bones, some still with sinew and flesh attached. The walls were covered in human limbs, missing person posters, and newspaper articles about missing people.
He made his way around the corner to find a dismembered body chained to the wall, a knife stuck in the open chest cavity. As he reached for the knife, he heard movement behind him and when he turned, everything went black.
When he started to regain consciousness, Arthur became aware that his hands and legs were chained down. A quiet, but unnervingly joyful voice was speaking but he couldn't quite make out the words. A lantern was lit to reveal a well-dressed man with a moustache standing over him.
"Save yourself thinking about what's about to happen," the man set the lantern down and picked up a large knife, "Now, I'm not going to lie, it's not going to be nice. And fun."
Arthur struggled against the shackles holding him down.
"I mean, it will be fun for me, but it won't be nice for you," the man ran his finger along the knife's blade as he stepped closer. But he was suddenly knocked off balance when someone jumped on his back.
Arthur struggled harder to free himself as the man tried to get Grace off his back. She had gripped him tightly around the neck with her arms and pulled back. The man realised he had dropped his knife and when he tried to retrieve it, Grace squeezed her arm harder. He tried to pull her arms away, scratched at them, tried to tilt his head enough to bite at her, but she didn't relent. He resorted to slamming her back into the rocky wall, hoping to shake her off that way, but she held firm.
They struggled out of Arthur's view as the man took a run at the wall around the corner. Arthur could hear Grace cry out in pain and the man now gasping for breath. After what felt like minutes, silence.
"Grace!" Arthur called out.
"Just - ow - a minute," she replied breathlessly. After a moment, she appeared, holding her side. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked angrily, "I told you to be careful! I thought you would at least bring someone else along! You shouldn't have done this alone! You almost DIED!"
"But-"
"You knew what this bastard was capable of!" she yelled, "You should've brought Charles, or, or me, or SOMEONE! How could you be this STUPID? I thought you were smarter than this!"
"Are you finished?" he yelled back at her. She glared down at him, crossing her arms. "You gonna get me out, or what?"
"I should just leave you there, but I can't carry that guy myself," she disappeared from view for a moment and returned with a key to unlock the shackles from Arthur's wrists and ankles. She turned and walked out without another word.
Arthur followed and found the man barely conscious and hogtied. "Alright, you, we're going for a little ride," he picked up the man and carried him out of the cellar. Grace was standing by her horse, still holding her side. Arthur put the man on the back of his horse and turned to her. "You okay?"
"Yeah, might've cracked a couple of ribs," she said, then led Tuula over to the ruined shack floor and used it to mount up, grimacing as she did so. "What about you? You okay?"
"Yeah," Arthur mounted up and they rode out. "Thanks, for, well, back there," he said after a few minutes.
"I just didn't want to come across your mutilated corpse somewhere," she said quietly.
"And what a sight that would've been," the man said from the back of Arthur's horse. Arthur reached back and backhanded him across the face.
"Shut up, you."
They rode in silence the rest of the way to the sheriff's in Valentine. Arthur dismounted and carried the man in while Grace stayed outside.
"Found that feller you been looking for," he announced as he dropped the man on the floor in front of the sheriff's desk.
"What feller?" the sheriff asked, getting up from his desk.
"This feller, well, it ain't nothing nice," he said, cutting the rope from the man's ankles. "A lot of folk disappeared over the past few years. This sick son of a bitch, well, he ain't right in the head."
"That so?"
Arthur pulled the man to his feet. "Head over to the cellar of that broke down shack on the road to the falls. See for yourself."
"Okay," the sheriff pulled the man towards the cells, "Now, come on you."
"My name is Edmund," the man said, "Edmund Lowry, Jr." He turned to look the sheriff in the eye. "And you'll remember that, my friend."
"I'm sure I shall," the sheriff said, "My, you are a frightening fella. You get in that cell, calm as you be." The sheriff removed the rope from Lowry's hands and pushed him into the cell. Before he could close the door, Lowry turned and jumped on the sheriff, trying to bite him. Arthur quickly shot Lowry then pulled his body off the sheriff.
"What happened?" the door burst open as Grace ran in.
"Oh, thank you," the sheriff said, relieved, as he backed away from the body and stood up quickly, "My Lord, what a monster!" he made his way to his desk and took out some money. "Here, here's something for your trouble."
"Thank you, sheriff," Arthur took the money, "You take care now." He guided Grace out the door as she looked at him questioningly. "He attacked the sheriff," he said.
"Jesus, and I suppose it was you who shot him?" Arthur nodded. "Too bad you couldn't have done that in the first place."
"I don't know about you, but I could use a drink after that," he looked over towards the saloon.
"Heh, I'm surprised you want to go back in after all the trouble you've caused there," she smirked, "But yeah, I could use a drink too."
They headed into the saloon, promised the bartender they would behave - really, this time - and ordered a couple of beers. As they drank, Arthur thought of how close he came to being filleted alive and how lucky he was that Grace had found him in time. He looked over at her as she tapped her fingers on the bottle, seemingly deep in thought. He wondered what she was thinking about. Maybe how dumb he was for going after that serial killer alone. He hated to admit it, but it was pretty stupid. He laughed to himself when he remembered he didn't want to bring Grace to find this guy, to protect her.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"Just... thinking how foolish I been."
"Well, take it easy," she smiled at him before taking a drink.
"Heh, so what were you doing before you found me in that cellar?"
"Heading here. I was coming back from the frozen lake."
"Skating?"
"A bit."
"Hm."
Grace finished her beer and ordered another one before stepping away from the bar and heading outside. Arthur ordered another beer and followed her. She walked up the road and stopped at the churchyard where Tuula was grazing. She sat against the fence facing the gravestones, looked up at Arthur and patted the ground next to her.
"Why'd you come out here?" he asked as he sat down.
"It's quiet," she said, taking a drink of her beer, "Do you ever wonder about the people buried in cemeteries?"
"No."
"I do. I always wonder what kind of people they were. How they lived. How they died."
Arthur didn't say anything.
"Some cities have a section just for the graves of children. It's..." she sniffled a bit, "Sorry, it's just so sad."
"Well, it happens."
She turned to glare at him. "How can you say that?"
"All this happened in the past," he gestured around the graveyard, "Why do you care now? Don't see no point in wasting time on the dead."
"Of course you wouldn't," she said angrily, "Even though death follows you everywhere. Do you even care much when people you know die? Or do you just brush it off as just one of those things that happens?"
Arthur paused and stared at the ground in front of him. "I had a son once." Grace looked at him, but didn't say anything. "Was with a girl, Eliza. She was a waitress. It wasn't a serious thing, but then she had Isaac. I couldn't make promises I wouldn't keep, so I said I'd support them however I could. Stayed with them whenever I was in town. He was a good kid. So was she, only nineteen. Then one day I rode up and there were two crosses outside. Found out they had been robbed and murdered, all for just ten dollars."
"I'm so sorry," she said quietly, "But clearly you still think of them often."
"I guess I do," he said, "I just don't talk about it. But... their deaths, well, I guess it made me realise I weren't meant for anything good."
She didn't say anything but anxiously tapped at her beer bottle. Arthur looked over at her and saw she had tears in her eyes.
"You alright? I didn't mean to upset you."
"Sorry, it's just... I had a son too. And a daughter."
"Really? What happened?"
Grace didn't say anything for a moment, as if debating whether or not to open up.
"I was engaged, I became pregnant before we married, he broke off the engagement and my family disowned me, so I was left on my own. I wandered around trying to find work to support myself, and when I gave birth, they came out dead," she said quickly, her voice breaking.
"Shit," was all Arthur could say. He felt rage run through him and he stood. "Where is this bastard? I'll go pay him a visit."
"Dead."
"Good."
"I guess."
"How long ago did it happen?"
"A while ago. Doesn't matter now." She stood, chugged the rest of her beer, set the bottle down, and headed for her horse. "Anyway, I better be going."
"You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah," she said. "It's just... a lot of memories from a different life." She turned back to him. "It's okay to mourn the past once in a while, Arthur, if only to remind you how important it is to live in the present. See you around."
Arthur watched Grace lead her horse to a tree stump so she could mount up easier and rode away. He hadn't planned on telling her about Eliza and Isaac, it just came out. But he certainly wasn't expecting her to share something just as personal in return. He finished his beer, left the bottle next to hers, and returned to his horse. He felt a strange remorse, the same feeling he had when he found Eliza and Isaac's graves, that he should've been there. Even though he had only known Grace a short time, he felt helpless that he couldn't have been there for her then. After all, how many times has she already helped him?
And while he lost both Eliza and Isaac, he still had the gang. Grace seemed to have no one when she lost her children, or at least no one that she mentioned. How could that happen to someone so good at heart? It seemed deeply unfair and he could never understand it.
A couple days later, he was back in camp, sitting on his cot and writing a few words in his journal.
"Mr. Morgan!"
"Hm?"
Miss Grimshaw came up to him, "I've been calling for you!"
"Sorry," he apologised, "What do you need?"
"Hosea says there's a storm rolling in, we need you to help shore up the tents."
"Sure."
Arthur helped the others anchor the tents and other objects down. The wind was picking up fast and dark storm clouds were closing in. Looks like that much needed rain was going to arrive. He was about to return to his own wagon, but Kieran was having trouble keeping the horses calm so he went to help him.
"Thanks, Arthur," Kieran said, trying to settle down Charles's horse, Taima, "They know a bad storm is coming."
"Yeah, best we can do is try to make them comfortable," Arthur replied, patting his own horse before moving to John's.
"It would be better if we had proper shelter for them."
"Well, we don't exactly have time to build barns every time we lay down camp."
"I didn't mean- I mean- I know we have to move, but I was just saying."
"I know, I know."
Despite their attempts, Arthur and Kieran weren't able to settle down the horses. It started to rain as the horses became much more agitated.
"Don't worry about them!" Hosea shouted, "They'll find their way back if they run off!"
Arthur hung on to his hat to keep it from blowing away as he turned to follow Hosea. Kieran very reluctantly let go of Taima and she galloped into the trees with some of the other horses. They followed Hosea to the rest of the gang who were still trying to keep everything from blowing away.
"Jack! Where's Jack?" Abigail shouted, looking around frantically, "Damn it, where is he?"
They looked and John spotted him near the water. "Over there. Jack!" he called out, "Jack, get back here!"
"My boat!" Jack yelled back and ran over to the dock, following a small toy boat that was in the water. John ran after him. When he reached the dock, he slipped as he had grabbed Jack and they both fell into the rough waters.
Abigail screamed as the whole gang ran to the shore. Arthur and Charles immediately leapt into the camp boat to row out.
"Keep your heads above the water, John!" Arthur yelled. He could just see John trying valiantly to keep himself and Jack afloat. Arthur and Charles rowed as hard as they could, but the waves were getting too rough. "Hold on, we almost got you!" He just finished yelling when a large wave capsized their boat. When he surfaced, the boat was upside down and Charles was already swimming towards John and Jack, now barely still above water. Arthur tried to follow, but the waves were becoming too strong.
Most of the men from camp were galloping along the shore on their horses. Arthur swam back to shore and whistled for his horse to catch up. Charles couldn't get to John and Jack and had swam back to shore as well. As they rode to catch up, they watched as the others tried to lasso John and Jack, but the two were far too out.
Further ahead of the group, someone on another horse had galloped straight into the water. Arthur swore as he realised it was Grace and Tuula. He watched as they swam out, the waves crashing against them. Grace slid off Tuula into the water and Arthur wasn't sure if she had meant to do it or if she had been knocked off. After what felt like ages, Jack was pushed up on Tuula's back, followed by John. Tuula slowly turned in the water and swam for shore. There was no sign of Grace.
The gang caught up as Tuula stumbled out of the waters and fell on her side. Dutch and Hosea dismounted and picked up Jack, while Bill and Lenny dragged John further in. Kieran ran straight to Tuula. Arthur looked out into the lake, but didn't see Grace. Damn it, he didn't even know where to start looking.
"We thought we lost you," Hosea said gratefully, hugging Jack close and looking down at John as he tried to catch his breath.
"Wait, isn't that the horse we saw up in the mountains?" Javier asked Arthur.
Arthur didn't reply right away, still watching the waters. "Yeah, it's the same horse," Arthur turned to Kieran, "How is she?"
"Exhausted," Kieran said, petting Tuula, "She just needs some rest and I have some of that mash you told me about." He pulled out a small jar from his pocket.
"Well, let's get John and Jack back to camp and we can all get warm and dry," Dutch said, mounting up. Hosea took Jack with him as John was helped up behind Bill.
"I'll bring this girl back when she's able," Kieran said, petting Tuula who was breathing heavily.
Arthur looked back out to the lake, but was unable to spot any sign of Grace. He reluctantly returned to camp, losing hope that she had somehow survived. The waves were too rough. His wagon and tent had tipped over from the winds, as well as Strauss's medicine wagon. Dutch's and John's tents had blown away, leaving his things scattered across the camp. Pearson's chuckwagon was thankfully still upright, sheltered by the trees.
Abigail ran to Hosea and grabbed Jack. "Oh, you silly boy, don't you do that again!" she cried, "You don't go near the water ever again, you hear me?"
Jack nodded and she hugged him again before carrying him over to the wagons that were still upright. While the others were relieved that John and Jack had been rescued, Arthur was left worried about what happened to Grace. He should've done something to save her too, but she was too far out in the water.
The gang spent the next few days cleaning up after the storm. Kieran had returned alone. Tuula had fought and galloped off down the shore when she had recovered enough. For a moment, Arthur had wanted to ride out and follow Tuula, but he was needed here. No one seemed to wonder about the woman who had saved John and Jack except for Arthur.
His photographs were gone, blown away when his wagon had tipped over. Even his hat was gone, lost when he and Charles had tried rowing out into the raging water to save John and Jack. He felt strangely incomplete without his it. He had others in his trunk, but it wasn't the same. Some of the others had lost photos and other papers as well.
Pearson had sent Charles out hunting and asked Arthur to go into town to pick up some smaller extras. Arthur agreed and rode out, overhearing Dutch and Hosea talk about the Grays and Braithwaites as he did. At least things were getting back to normal. He wondered what was going to be the next part of their plan to get closer to whatever gold is out there.
He hitched his horse outside of the general store and went in. As he did, he bumped into a woman who was just leaving.
"Oh, excuse me," she said.
"Sorry- oh, Grace!"
She looked up at him, her face looking very pale and sickly. "Arthur, how are you?"
"How the hell did you survive?"
"Swam under the waves as long as I could," she explained, "Ended way up the shore. Tuula found me eventually."
"Are you okay?" he asked, taking in the sight of her.
"Oh yeah, I'm fine, it's nothing," she brushed it off. "How is the boy? And that man?"
"Jack and John. They're okay," he said. "Thank you for saving them. What were you doing out there?"
"I was leaving Rhodes and then I saw all of you riding on the shore, which I thought strange in the storm, but then I saw them in the water," she said, pausing to cough. "Sorry, anyway, I wanted to help if I could and I did. Anyway, don't let me keep you," she started to walk away.
"You sure you're alright?" he asked.
"Yes. Oh! I almost forgot. When you're done in there, I have something for you."
Arthur nodded, frowning slightly, before going into the store to pick up the canned food Pearson had requested. When he left, Grace was standing outside with Tuula, holding the hat he had lost in the lake.
"Thought you might like this back," she handed it to him with a smile.
"How in the hell did you get this?"
"Found it on the shore, north of your camp." She then reached into her saddle bags. "I found these too. I dried them as best I could, they were a bit damaged." She took out something wrapped in paper with twine around it and gave it to Arthur. He unwrapped it to find his missing photos, as well as the photos some of the others had lost.
"I-" he started to say, but couldn't continue. He was just amazed to be seeing them again.
"Who are they?" she asked.
"This is my father," he showed her the picture, "He wasn't a good man. Was hanged when I was about 12."
"And you still wear his hat and keep his picture," she pointed out.
"Yeah. Guess it's my way of reminding myself where I came from. My mother had died long before that." He pointed to the picture of his mother, then moved on to the picture of the dog. "This was my dog, Copper. Never could control him, but he had good spirit."
"And you actually got him to sit still long enough for a photograph?" Grace asked with a smile.
"Yeah, I was surprised too." He laughed then took out the next picture. "This was with Dutch and Hosea, god knows how many years ago."
"Goodness, this is you?" Grace took the picture from him and held it up, comparing the photo to the person. "I didn't even recognise you. I think I prefer you now."
"Now? With this old, ugly face?"
"Pfft, your face is fine. I like your face." She handed the picture back and pointed to the framed picture of Mary. "She seems to like it too."
Arthur didn't say anything.
"What's her name?"
"Mary."
"She's beautiful," Grace said, "What happened with her?"
Arthur hesitated. "It was a long time ago."
"But you still love her." It wasn't a question. "And she still loves you."
"I don't know about that."
"I'm not blind, Arthur. I was there at the train station, remember?"
"Yeah."
"So...?"
"So, what?"
"Well, if you love her and she loves you, why aren't you two together?"
"I think- well, it's just that we're two different people," he sighed.
"You weren't willing to give up your life as an outlaw?"
"I guess not. And her family don't like me much either. Can't really see myself settling down, having a wife and doing that whole thing."
"That has to be the saddest thing I've ever heard."
"Well, don't matter now. It's in the past," he stuffed the photographs into his own saddlebag.
"You deserve happiness, Arthur."
"Nah, not me," he mounted up and looked down at her. "You sure you're feeling okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she mounted her horse slowly, "It'll pass in a day or two. I'll see you around."
He watched her ride out of town and couldn't help but worry about her. She did not look well at all, despite insisting otherwise. But what was he supposed to do? Bring her back to camp, have Miss Grimshaw take a look? He can't go around bringing strangers into camp, even if she did save two of their own. He could've brought her to a doctor, but he somehow got the feeling she wouldn't go willingly. He was just going to have to hope he wasn't going to come across her corpse later.
When he returned to camp, he carefully put his photos back up. He looked longingly at Mary's picture, wondering where she was at that moment and how she was doing. Was she thinking of him too? Did she wonder as much as he did about the kind of life they'd be living if they hadn't parted all those years ago? He sighed and set her picture in its place beside his bed where it belonged.
