Strauss has been loaning again and I've been sent out to collect again. The first, a Gwyn Hughes, paid back his loan by digging up a grave in the churchyard. Awful business.
Arthur pocketed the brooch as Gwyn Hughes rushed away. He looked down at the open grave with disdain and left. He much preferred beating a man for his money than desecrating graves.
"Goodness, what happened to you?"
Grace approached, looking healthy as can be. He then realised his clothes were dirty from a brawl he had with two men to prevent them from entering the churchyard and seeing what Mr. Hughes was up to.
"Oh, just collecting on more loans."
"Jesus, have you tried just asking for the money instead of beating them down?"
"Nah, this was... something else."
"Oh, so the person actually had the money?"
"Not exactly."
"So how did they pay it back?" she asked, confused.
Arthur looked around to make sure no one else was near and leaned in closer to her, lowering his voice. "He dug up a grave for some jewelry."
"Jesus christ, are you insane?" she hissed at him, "What is wrong with you?"
"I ain't the one digging up graves!"
"But you didn't exactly stop him! Good god," she shook her head, "How many other people do you need to collect from?"
"Just one. He's way up by Strawberry," he paused, thinking, "Why don't you come along?"
"Me? Why?"
"Well maybe he'll be willing to pay the money if you're there."
"Money isn't going to suddenly appear if I'm there," she said, "But sure, I'll go. It's been a little while since I've followed you anywhere."
"Ha, I'll just bring this back to camp and I'll meet you near the border."
It took a few hours, but when he reached the border, Grace was already there waiting for him. She had changed out of the dress she had been wearing into a pair of riding pants and a brown jacket.
"So here's the deal," she said, "If this guy can't pay back the money and can't guarantee payment within the next week, I'll pay his debt."
"Why would you do that?"
"To save his face from being beaten to a pulp," she said, "I'll get him to pay me back when he can."
"What if he never repays?"
Grace shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
"Why do you not care about money?"
"I just don't."
Arthur frowned as they started to make their way to Strawberry. He found it very strange that she didn't seem to worry about money. Did she secretly have a fortune stashed away somewhere? Or is she like him and robs people of their money? He laughed to himself at the thought. There was no way she was out here thieving like they do, and if she was, then she was brilliant at covering it up.
"What's so funny?"
"Just trying to imagine you stealing money."
"What?" she laughed, "Why on earth are you imagining that?"
"I don't know," he said, "It is a funny thought."
"Me stealing is funny?"
"I can't see you doing it," Arthur chuckled, "You'd probably just ask them politely to hand over everything they've got."
"Maybe that's the key, has anyone actually tried asking instead of demanding? Hold on, I'm going to try."
"What?"
Grace cleared her throat and spoke dramatically. "Arthur Morgan, may I have all of your money please?"
"Shut up," he laughed.
"Damn, maybe it doesn't work," she laughed as well, "Or maybe they have to be unsuspecting. I mean, you were ready for me to ask."
"Well, I'll just stick to demanding, I don't think I know how to be polite."
"Yes, you do. You're usually nice with me, for some reason. And you're polite when you aren't collecting debts or robbing people."
"Heh, I suppose. Just don't expect me to be nice with this fella."
"If you were, I'd take you straight to a doctor to find out what's wrong with you."
The rest of the ride was calm and quiet. Arthur found it nice to be able to ride with someone and not need to talk the whole time. He wasn't much of a conversationalist anyway. When they neared Strawberry, Arthur halted his horse and took out the small map Strauss had drawn up.
"So, Winton Holmes should be up this way," he pointed up a road to the right, "That is, if he hasn't fled the country or something."
"Alright, let's go," Grace said and followed Arthur up the road to a small camp where a man was sleeping by a fire. Arthur dismounted while Grace remained on her horse. He walked up to the man and kicked him awake.
"Winton Holmes?"
"Wha- who- I- yes, yes, that's me," Winton stammered.
"You got some money for me, boy?" Arthur demanded. "I seen your name in our ledger."
"Oh, you're with the German?" Winton slowly stood, "Look, I got it for you.. it's just, I don't got it yet."
Arthur frowned.
"It's up in them hills," said Winton.
"Panning for it?"
"Hunting it. I tracked this cougar, lily white coat, very rare. The pelt'll more than cover what I owe."
"No offense, Mr. Holmes, but you don't look like much of a hunter," Grace spoke up.
"Oh, Miss, I can hunt, a-and this cougar, it'll be worth it," Winton said, "Look, I'm outta work and this'll be the only way you get paid. And the hard work's already done."
Grace and Arthur looked at each other. He shrugged, and gestured to Winton's horse. "Fine. Move."
"We'll, uh, we'll need our horses, it's a bit of a trip," Winton mounted his horse.
"Yeah, yeah," Arthur mounted, "Alright. Drive, boy. Let's get where we're going."
"Um, maybe the lady should stay behind?" Winton turned to Arthur and pointed at Grace. "It could be dangerous."
"She ain't in any more danger than you are right now," Arthur threatened, "Now drive!"
"Okay, okay, let's go." He rode out with Arthur and Grace following. They rode up the mountain before arriving at a cave. "This is it! Her den. We should leave the horses."
Arthur dismounted and turned to Grace. "You stay out here. And here," he walked over and handed her his pistol. "Just in case."
"Sure," she took the gun and watched the men light up their lanterns before entering the cave. "You know this cougar is going to see you first, right?"
"Oh, but if there's two of us, we'll be okay," Winton insisted, taking out his own pistol.
"Good luck."
Arthur nodded and followed Winton into the cave. They walked slowly until they came to a break with two paths. Winton looked down both ways before turning back to Arthur.
"I'll take the left, you go right, and we'll see if it converges down a ways," he said, "And look out for her."
"Yeah, yeah," Arthur headed to the left. This Winton Holmes better not decide to run, but if he did, Grace would probably stop him. Or she might just let him go and offer to pay his debt again.
He could just hear the cougar snarl in the cave, sounding very close. That's the thing with caves, you never know how close or far away something is because how much it echoes. Suddenly he heard gunshots and a man crying out.
"Holmes?" Arthur called, "Winton Holmes?" There was no answer. "You better not be messing with me, boy!" He rushed through the cave, stumbling across old corpses and bones of both animal and man. "How much does this thing eat?"
The next body he found was that of Winton Holmes, his throat torn open and a look of terror still on his face.
"Crap, she got him." So where was this cougar now? He listened carefully, turning slowly and lifting his lantern to try and spot the cougar. He heard the snarl again echo through the cave.
"ARTHUR!" Grace screamed. Arthur ran for the entrance to see the cougar being kicked off Grace's back by Tuula.
"Shit!" he aimed his gun at the cougar, but Tuula charged the cougar, bit its neck and flung it into some nearby rocks. As the cougar slowly got up, the big appaloosa started trampling it until it moved no more. Arthur ran to Grace who had long, bleeding scratches on her back.
"Dammit," she winced as she sat up, "I really liked this jacket."
"You get nearly eaten by a damn hellcat and you're worried about your jacket?" Arthur shook his head, "But she really did a number on you."
"You're going to have to help me," she said, slowly removing her jacket and wincing in pain, "You have to see how deep those scratches are."
"Me?"
"Wait, where's Mr. Holmes?"
"Cougar got him," he nodded towards the cave.
"Damn, he was nice. But yes, it'll have to be you."
"But-"
"You shoot people for a living and you don't want to look at a bit of blood?"
"No, I mean-"
"Arthur, please," she grabbed his arm.
"Okay."
Grace gingerly removed her blouse and lifted the back of her torn chemise up to her neck so Arthur could see. He removed his bandana and gently wiped away the blood.
"Are they smooth or jagged?" she asked.
"Uh, smooth, I guess."
"You're going to have to clean and suture them."
"What?"
"You'll have to stitch them up. It'll help them heal better."
"Me?"
"Well, I'd ask Tuula to do it but she's terrible with a needle," Grace said sarcastically. "There's a red pouch in my saddlebag on the left, it has everything you need."
Arthur wasn't sure about this, but he couldn't very well leave her like this and he didn't want to risk anything trying to get her into town. He approached Tuula who was sniffing at the cougar's carcass. She snorted when he got close.
"It's okay, girl," Grace soothed her horse. Tuula stood still but watched Arthur closely as he took out the pouch. He pet her and returned to Grace. "Okay, clean as much as you can then use this." She handed him a small jar. "It'll help disinfect them."
Arthur nodded and wiped as much blood away as he could then opened the jar. It looked like green-coloured jelly and smelled awful. He scooped some out on his finger and gently dabbed it along the scratches. Grace tensed up and gasped sharply. He continued as quick as he could now that he noticed the sun starting to set.
"Okay, that's done," he said, wiping his fingers on his pants and screwing the lid back on the jar.
"Ugh, I hate the smell, but it works," she shifted, "Do you have a lantern? You're going to need the light. I'll get the needle and catgut ready for you."
"Catgut?"
"The thread. Made from sheep intestines, but these are specifically for sutures," she reached over to the pouch, took out a small container, and removed a bit of the catgut thread as he retrieved his lantern. "Do you know how to sew?"
"Uh, no, the women in camp do that."
"Okay, so this is what you need to do," she picked up a stick and drew a line in the ground, "This is the wound, you insert the needle about here," she marked a spot at one end of the line," and pull through the other side about the same length of thread as the scratch. Don't cut it yet, just to make sure you have enough. Then insert it again about half an inch under the first insertion and straight to the other side. Keep doing that until you get to the end, then tie a double knot as close as you can to the skin. Don't worry if it's uneven, just so long as it's enough to keep the wound closed."
"You sure about this?"
"I trust you," she handed the curved needle prepared with the catgut thread to him.
Arthur held the needle above the scratch wound and hesitated before inserting it through. Grace flinched, but stayed as still as she could as he slowly stitched up the wounds. By the time he finished, it was dark except for his lantern and the moonlight.
"Hope I did okay," he said, cutting the last bit of thread.
"You were excellent," she said, pulling her chemise down over her back, "Thank you."
"Where'd you learn that?" he asked as he helped her up.
"I was a volunteer nurse for a few years," she replied as she put away the supplies in her saddlebag. She pulled out another chemise and blouse. "I don't think that cougar pelt is going to be any good now."
Arthur looked over at the carcass which had been viscerated by Tuula's hooves. "Guess not. Dammit. All that for nothing. And the poor bastard's dead so there's no other way to get the money from him."
"I'll give you the money for his debt," she said.
"Nah, I can't let you do that."
"Let me finish. I'll give you the money for his debt if you help bury him. I think he deserves that, at least."
Arthur thought about it for a moment before agreeing. It wasn't ideal, but what other choice did he have?
"Well, I guess we'll stay here tonight then." He set up a campfire and went into the cave to retrieve Winton Holmes's body. When he came out, Grace had changed into the clean shirts and was sitting by the fire, hugging her knees to her chest. He buried Winton near some trees, marking the grave with a pile of stones, then joined her at the fire.
"I checked the saddlebags on his horse, see if he had any names of family but he didn't," she said, "We'll bring his horse into Strawberry tomorrow and I can let the sheriff there know what happened, in case anyone comes asking after him."
"Into Strawberry? After what I've done there?"
"What else have you done?"
"I blew up the jail to get Micah out, remember?"
"Oh, that was ages ago. It's not like they know it was you specifically."
"How do you know?"
"Because I asked if they knew who had shot up the town that day. They only knew it was someone associated with Micah Bell."
"And they didn't find it suspicious you asking?"
"I said I heard some O'Driscolls talking about breaking out a friend of theirs in Strawberry. I mean, it wasn't entirely a lie. I did overhear some O'Driscolls in Valentine talking about breaking one of their own out of the Strawberry jail."
"You really are something else, you know that? What gets me is why you keep stepping in like that."
"Guess I don't want to see you all hang," she shrugged, "Except maybe Micah."
"Can't argue with you there," Arthur said, "Dutch told me I just couldn't see the heart inside of Micah."
Grace burst out laughing. "If he has a heart, then I am the goddamn queen of England." She paused. "You know, he made some vile suggestions to me."
"What? When?" Arthur felt anger rush through him.
"When he was in jail. I was by the hotel, having a look at Tuula's leg. She had a small cut on it. But he kept calling out, making some very lewd comments."
"Goddamn bastard. I should've let him hang."
"But you didn't."
"I would have if I had known he talked to you like that."
"I don't think you would have."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because Dutch asked you to break Micah out of jail."
"Yeah, but-"
"Would you really have told Dutch you wouldn't get Micah out of jail because he made some comments to a woman you barely know?"
"I guess you're right," Arthur reluctantly agreed. He watched the fire for a few moments before noticing that Grace was shivering. "You cold?"
"A bit. I only brought one jacket and it's all torn up, and I wasn't expecting to be sleeping out here."
"Well where else were you going to sleep?"
"I had planned on going to the hotel in Strawberry. As much as I like camping, it is nice to sleep in a real bed, and I thought we'd, or at least I'd, be going there after collecting Mr. Holmes's debt."
Arthur took off his coat and handed it to her. She smiled in thanks and put it on.
"You hungry?" he asked.
"No," she shook her head, "Just tired. I'm going to lie down, get some sleep."
"Hold on," he stood and retrieved his bedroll from his horse and lay it on the ground for her.
"You sure? I mean, I was the one silly enough to come unprepared."
"I can do without for one night," he sat back down.
"Thank you," she lay down on her side and curled up as much as she could under Arthur's coat. "Good night, Arthur."
"'Night." He watched her fall asleep, glad that she was okay. She was still shivering from the cold so he moved as close as he could without touching her. She was lucky to have not been killed by that cougar, and lucky to have a horse who didn't flee. He looked over at Tuula, who was standing relaxed, but seemed to be watching him carefully, as if making sure he wasn't going to hurt Grace.
He looked back down at Grace and noticed again the scar on her temple. If he didn't know any better, he could've sworn it looked like a healed bullet wound. But if she had one in her head, she shouldn't even be alive. Before he could stop himself, he touched it lightly. Grace moved slightly and he pulled his hand away.
He'll ask her about it in the morning. It wouldn't be too personal of a question, would it?
Arthur woke the next morning to find Grace gone and his coat draped over him. He sat up quickly and looked around. Tuula was gone as well, but Winton Holmes's horse was still there. After he got the fire going again, he was feeding his own horse, wondering why she had left. Maybe she rode into town, Strawberry wasn't too far. Maybe those stitches she had him do weren't good enough. Or maybe-
His thoughts were interrupted when Grace rode up.
"Morning," she greeted him and slowly dismounted, "I tried to go fishing, but my back hurt too much. So I have a rabbit instead." She removed a small rabbit from her saddle.
"You didn't have to do that," he took the rabbit from her.
"It's the least I could do. Oh, and here," she handed him the pistol he had given her before he and Winton had gone into the cave.
"So why didn't you use it last night?"
"I got distracted. I heard the gunshots and the horses started spooking so I was about to calm them down when the cougar jumped on me."
"At least you got a good horse," he nodded towards Tuula.
"Like I said, she takes care of me," she sat next to the fire while Arthur prepared the rabbit, "And you do too." He looked up at her questioningly. "Well, I certainly couldn't stitch up my back myself. And you made sure I'd be warm when my dumb self didn't come prepared."
"Heh, well, I'll send you the bill," he joked.
After they finished cooking and eating the rabbit, Arthur and Grace headed to Strawberry with Winton's horse. Grace went into the sheriff's to let them know what had happened while Arthur hitched the dead debtor's horse outside while keeping his head down. Hopefully no one would recognise him from that massacre.
"Okay, they'll take care of the horse and see if they can find his family or something," Grace said when she came out. She reached into her saddlebag, took out a small stack of money, and handed it to Arthur. He started to refuse it. "It's for Mr. Holmes's debt, and for you, for last night." She then giggled. "Heh, that sounded like I hired you for certain services."
"Hah, well, I don't think I'd make much money if I did that," he laughed and reluctantly took the money. It was almost triple what Winton Holmes owed. "Where did you get all this money?"
"From the bank," she said, mounting up, "And no, I didn't rob it."
"So how come you have all this money and you're out here following me?" he asked as they rode out of Strawberry.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you invited me up here," she smiled at him, "Besides, what else am I supposed to do? Follow someone else?"
"Hah, well you got me there. So how'd you get that scar on your head?"
"Hm?"
"The one there, on the side," he pointed.
"Oh, just an unfortunate incident, happened ages ago," she said.
Arthur frowned slightly, knowing it was more than 'just an unfortunate incident', but decided not to press it.
"Oh, I want to check out something down this road, want to come along?" she said, stopping at an intersection.
"Sure. What is it?"
"It looked like an old, burnt camp. I saw it when you were rescuing Sean."
They rode to the enclosed camp that had a number of destroyed teepees and burnt buildings. The fence surrounding was burnt and falling apart. Debris was scattered across the grounds.
"I wonder if this is Fort Riggs," Arthur said.
"Fort Riggs?"
"I met this drunk fella, said he was in the army and kept Indians penned up here. Pretty awful."
Grace didn't say anything but looked angry enough to cry. She dismounted and went into the holding camp, stepping carefully as if she were trying to not to step on anything precious. Arthur followed, trying to be careful as well. It was eerily quiet as they entered the one remaining building. A broken blackboard rested against the wall by a large table. Benches lined the rest of the room with a firestove in the back. Grace crouched down by the blackboard while Arthur walked to the back. He picked up a dusty piece of paper off a desk in the back.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Just a bunch of words," he said, "'Writing, attentive, zero, ice, young, ago, civilization.' Writing practice, I guess." He walked over and handed the paper to her.
"Oh god," she said after a minute.
"What?"
"It's coded. There's a message if you read the first letter of each word," she pointed out. "'Waziya comes with winter breath. His trees stand guard whispering all night that we sleep in our grave. Father fought and died so quickly. Mother dies slow.'"
"Jesus." Arthur looked out of the nearby window where he thought he could just see a line of crosses just past the broken fence. "What's that first word you said?"
"Waziya? It's the Indian name of a giant who guards the aurora borealis," Grace explained, "He blows cold winds to bring ice and snow. They say he also brings famine and disease." She looked down at the note again. "Whoever wrote this, their father must've been killed by soldiers since he fought and died quickly. And their poor mother was probably stricken with illness and therefore was dying slowly. Or being starved. Or both." She wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and left the building.
Arthur followed her to one of the ruined tepees and watched as she stood silently with her eyes closed. She folded the paper carefully, put it in her satchel, and returned to her horse. Arthur mounted his horse but Grace remained on the ground, petting Tuula.
"Do you believe in God, Arthur?"
"I don't know," he replied. "Do you?"
"No."
"Oh." He paused. "I thought you was praying a moment ago."
"I suppose, in a way." She mounted up. "Anyway, I'm sure you're tired of me by now."
"Nah."
"Really? Hm, I should try harder," she smiled slightly, "I'll see you around."
"Wait, where are you going?"
"I think I'll head to Blackwater. So you can't follow me there."
"Hold on, you can get into Blackwater without anyone suspectin' you, right?"
"Well, yeah. It may still be swarming with Pinkertons, but regular law-abiding citizens such as myself can still walk in without being arrested and hanged."
"We left a lot of money there."
"Where?"
"That's just it, I don't know," Arthur said, frustrated, "Dutch and Hosea, they kept a savings stash and when everything went to hell, we had to leave it behind."
Grace paused, thinking. "If you can find out where it is, I'll get it for you."
"It was a lot of money, saved up for years."
"How much?"
"Not sure exactly, but Dutch had said that the ferry they robbed was carrying about $150,000."
"That's a lot to hide, even if you got it in large bills."
"Well, we still got a lot of money there somewhere."
"Hmm. Any general ideas where it could be?"
"All I know is somewhere in town."
"Ah." Grace thought for a moment. "Well, I'll go poke around a bit. If I find it, I'll bring it to you."
"How do you know it'll be our money?"
"How many people are hiding $150,000 in Blackwater?"
"Good point."
"I'll see what I can find," said Grace, turning towards the road to Blackwater, "See you around, Arthur."
Arthur waved goodbye and watched her until he couldn't see her any longer. What if she was able to find the money? If she did, they could finally escape and head west like the original plan. They actually had a chance. So why didn't he feel excited about it? He supposed it was a long shot that Grace would even find a penny of that money.
He rode back to camp, arriving late at night. Most of the gang were asleep and Arthur was glad to be back in his usual cot. Before lying down, he looked at Mary's picture, as he always did before he went to sleep. If Grace found the money, maybe he could find Mary again and... well, and see what happens.
