More trouble with the Pinkertons. Guess we've made too much noise down here. We got spoken to by Agent Milton. This time he asked for Dutch's head on a platter. We got him to leave but they ain't too pleased with us.
We're now hiding deep in the swamps in some disease ridden old plantation house, mostly swallowed up by nature, trying not to get eaten by wildlife or sink too deep in the mud. I cannot decide which I like less - the swamps or the city. Both are full of parasites, reptiles, and slime, but the swamp's prettier.
Dutch and I headed into town and I managed to myself robbed by a bunch of children. This was a new low, even by my standards.
Arthur felt the weight of his satchel lessen when he realised one of the boys had cut it off and ran.
"Hey! You little pair of shits!" he ran after the kid who stole the satchel.
The kid jumped onto the back of a wagon. "Let's go! That feller looks angry!"
"I'll kill you, you thieving bastard!" Arthur sprinted after the wagon.
"You better run!" the kid taunted him, jumping off the wagon and running to jump on a passing tram.
"You give that back!" Arthur jumped on a nearby horse and galloped after the tram. The kid jumped off the tram and down an alley. Arthur dismounted and ran down the alley, but couldn't see which way he went. "GODDAMN IT!" He kicked a nearby trash bin in anger and headed down another alley.
"Hey! Hey! Let go!" he heard the kid shout from down the alley. "I didn't mean it, miss! OW!"
A moment later, Grace appeared, pulling the kid by his ear towards Arthur. "Give it back," she demanded.
"Okay, okay, geez," the kid tossed Arthur's satchel to the ground in front of him but she didn't let go.
"Little shit," Arthur said, picking up his satchel, "Now tell me where Angelo Bronte is."
"I- I- OW!" the kid screamed when Grace pulled on his ear again. "Okay! Big house on Flavian Street opposite the park. Now let me go!"
"Manners," she said.
"Alright, alright, let me go, please!"
"And to him?"
"Jesus, lady, I- OW! Okay, okay! Sorry, mister."
Grace let go of him and he ran away. "I catch you stealing things again, I will horsewhip you into next year!" She then turned to Arthur. "And you, getting robbed by children? I thought you were smarter than that."
"Little bastards, told me they'd show me where Angelo Bronte lived and were showing me around," Arthur said.
"I bet you told them it was your first time here, didn't you?" Arthur didn't say anything. She smiled and shook her head. "I would've thought, presumably being a child delinquent yourself, you'd know all the tricks."
"Apparently not."
"Apparently. Well, I'm afraid I can't stay, I have other things I need to be doing," she lifted the basket she held in her hand.
"Can I walk you to wherever you need to go?"
"I'll be fine, I've been here far longer than you," she winked at him.
"Hey, wait, how did you know he stole my things?"
"I recognised your satchel," she said, "And those little assholes have tried to steal my things before too, only they were less successful with me."
"Thanks," he paused, "You, uh, look nice today."
"Thanks, gotta dress up for the city," she said looking down at her plum coloured skirt and jacket, "See you around."
I have not ever met a lizard in a suit before, only now I have and his name is Angelo Bronte. He is either our salvation or our damnation. This city's strongman arrived from Italy a few years ago and now knows and controls everything and everyone.
He had us go shoot up some apparent graverobbers in the cemetery in exchange for Jack. Nearly got caught by the law but John and I managed to sneak out.
He had not harmed Jack, but that may be in thanks to Grace...
"So you're okay, Jack?" John asked as he put his son on his horse.
"Yes, I had fun," Jack replied. "Papa Bronte teached me some new words in Italian. Like 'cavallo'! That means horse."
"Don't.. call him that," John said, mounting up.
A nearby gunshot startled them. "Jesus, guess we ain't the only ones out here shooting up the place," Arthur said, calming his horse.
"Apparently some of Bronte's men like to drink and shoot at the gators in the swamp behind the mansion," Dutch chuckled, "Seems like a fitting pasttime for them."
"Did they take care of you?" John asked Jack.
"Miss Grace took care of me." Arthur perked up at the name. "She told me stories and played games and sang me a nice song to sleep."
"What did she look like?" Arthur asked, already knowing the answer.
"She was pretty, but not as pretty as Momma," said Jack. "But Miss Grace has the prettiest blue eyes."
"Well she sounds mighty nice, Jack," said Dutch.
"Do you think I'll see her again?"
"I don't know, Jack," said John, "Probably not."
"Oh," Jack said disappointed. Arthur smiled to himself.
"You never know, Jack," Arthur said, "Maybe she'll show up one day."
"I hope so!"
Arthur spent the rest of the ride back to camp wondering how the hell Grace had managed to not only get into the Bronte mansion, which was probably the most guarded house he'd ever seen, but also convince Angelo Bronte to let her look after Jack. How could they ever thank her enough? She'd now saved Jack and John twice, Hosea once, and his own self many times over. And he still didn't understand why.
When they returned to camp, Abigail was elated to have her son back, thanking Dutch and Arthur, but not saying a word to John. The rest of the camp was just as happy so a 'Welcome Home' party was declared.
"Eat up, Jack," Abigail gave Jack a bowl of stew.
"Thanks, Momma, but Miss Grace made sure I ate before I left," said Jack.
"Oh. Who's that?" Abigail asked
"She looked after me at Papa, I mean, Mr. Bronte's," Jack said, "She said Pa would come get me. Can we invite her over?"
"Oh, well, no, I don't think that's a good idea," said Abigail.
"That's what Pa said too," Jack said, disappointed,
"Was she real nice?" asked Abigail.
"Oh yes, she told me stories and played with the toys with me," he said cheerfully.
"Well I'm glad you had a good time," Abigail said.
"I did, but I'm glad to be back here again."
John took Arthur aside. "Don't you think it's strange that Bronte's house was full of men, but the only woman there is the one to look after Jack?"
"Between you and me, I know who it is."
"You do? Who is she?"
"Remember the girl up in the mountains? Who led us to you? That's Grace. She's also the one who rode her horse into the water to get you and Jack."
"Jesus," John's eyes widened, "But why?"
"I haven't the damnedest idea," Arthur said, "She's a strange one. You know she's been misleading the Pinkertons away from us?"
"They still found us at Clemens Point."
"Yeah, but we been making a lot of noise there."
John paused. "What are we doing, Arthur?"
"I don't know, but I'm sure Dutch'll think of something."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"What are you boys doing over here?" Miss Grimshaw interrupted them, "Come join the party!"
"Go on, go be with your family," Arthur said to John. He looked in the direction of the city, wondering where Grace was at that moment.
The following morning, Arthur was awakened in his new room at the old house by Dutch announcing they had been invited to a garden party.
"A garden party?"
"A huge gala at the mayor's house," said Dutch, "all the rich fools of Lemoyne will be there!"
"Which means, Arthur, you'll need to wear something nice," Hosea joined them.
"What do you mean?" Arthur sat up and narrowed his eyes slightly.
"I mean, my boy, evening wear," Hosea said, "So we'll have to get some clothes to wear so we can pass as civilized citizens of this great nation."
"Son of a bitch..." Arthur said to himself.
Hosea and Arthur rode into the city where they found appropriate outfits to wear to the mayor's fancy ball. Afterward, Hosea brought the garments back to Shady Belle while Arthur decided to have a look around the city a bit.
Terrible place. He brought Smokey to the stable because he was spooking too much with the crowds and the trams. He decided to check out the main street, see what was there. So many big shops with elaborate window displays. He hadn't been in a city this big before.
"Not being robbed by children today?"
He almost jumped into the road. Grace was sitting on a nearby bench, wearing a navy skirt, a white blouse, and a straw hat, but she looked awful. She was so pale she was nearly grey. Her eyes had large dark circles around them like she hadn't slept in days, even though he had seen her looking healthy as can be only a couple of days earlier.
"Jesus, are you okay?" He sat next to her.
"Yes, it'll pass."
"Do you want me to take you to a doctor or something?"
"It's fine," she said, brushing him off, "I just need to rest more often until it passes."
"What exactly is wrong with you?"
"Oh, there is plenty wrong with me," she said, standing, "Care to walk me to the train station? I need to pick up some mail."
"Sure." He offered her his arm which she took and they headed to the station.
"So what brings you back into the city?" she asked.
"Believe it or not, but we have been invited to the mayor's fancy garden party, or whatever it is."
"No kidding? Why would the mayor invite a bunch of no-good hooligans such as yourselves to one of his fancy dos?"
"Angelo Bronte invited us."
"Good lord, I hope you're not getting involved with that."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure you already have."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really, 'Miss Grace'?"
"Why, Mr. Morgan, what ever do you mean?" she smiled.
"So how did you manage to get into Bronte's house?"
"Spoke Italian," she said, "Told them I was seeking work caring for children."
"And you didn't think to try to get Jack out?"
"Oh I did, but it would've been very difficult. For one, there's armed men everywhere and only one of me. And two, I knew you would eventually show up. I just wanted to make sure Jack was safe for when you came to get him."
"You really are something else," Arthur couldn't help but be impressed, "So you speak Italian then?"
"Learned in Italy."
"And what was you doing in Italy?"
"Started out as just visiting, but then I ended up working as a costume seamstress in a Neapolitan opera house." She staggered slightly and stopped walking. "Sorry, just need a moment."
Arthur helped her to a nearby bench and she sat down. "You sure you don't need a doctor?"
"I'm sure. There's nothing a doctor can do anyway except tell me to rest."
He sat next to her. "Y'know, Jack wants to see you again."
"Perhaps one day."
"You're not going to disappoint a little boy, are you?"
"Never," she smiled at him.
After a few minutes, she stood, took Arthur's arm again when he offered it and they continued to the trolley station where Grace picked up a few letters. They sat down on a bench inside the station as she looked through her mail.
"Oh, good, I was waiting for this one," she said, opening one of the letters and reading it. "Fascinating!"
"What is it?"
"I wrote to Mr. Tyrell, the man I accompanied on that expedition where we found dinosaur bones, or rather, he found the bones, I just happened to be there," she said, not looking up from the letter, "I asked if he had found any other dinosaurs, and while he has, he's been involved with other ventures since. Said they've also gone way up north and made contact with an Eskimo tribe there. First time in over a century anyone has made the journey that far north."
"Busy feller."
"Oh, he married a few years ago, how wonderful!" she smiled, placing her hand on her chest, "And they're starting out in the gold mining business."
"Don't suppose he wants to share any of that gold, huh?"
"You'd have to work for it," she said, putting the letter away, "By the way, have you found any more dinosaur bones for that paleontologist?"
"A few, and she says she still needs more."
"I found some," she reached into her satchel and handed him a piece of paper and a pouch. "Locations of larger bones, and some teeth."
"Dinosaur teeth?" he opened the pouch and took out a large tooth that was the same size as his hand. "Jesus, imagine being bitten by this."
"I'd rather not," Grace laughed as she opened another letter. "Hm. Well-" she stopped, looked around, leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. "So it turns out the money is not in Dutch's mother's grave."
"How do you know?"
"I befriended the grave digger there, nice man, asked him to check a few graves, including Mrs. van der Linde's. No one would suspect the grave digger digging in a cemetery."
"And you trust him?"
"Yes. Believe it or not, he's been following your antics in the papers," she smirked, "I told him if he found anything, I'd put in a good word with you lot."
"You recruiting for us now?" Arthur laughed.
"Heh, well, maybe not Frank. He's, um, slow, if you get my meaning. He's a very hard worker, very nice, but I don't think he'd do well in an actual outlaw gang."
"Huh, well, so long as you don't tell him too much."
"Nah. And even if he did say anything, very few people will believe him."
"But you trust him."
"Yes," she turned to Arthur, "Sometimes you know right away whether you can trust someone or not." She looked at him intensely for a few moments before turning away. "Well, I best be heading out."
"Where are you staying?"
"At a farm outside the city," she said, "Tuula's at the stable right now and I better go get her before she kicks the place down."
"Heh, my horse is there too, but I imagine he's not trying to destroy it." He stood and offered his arm to her again. She took it and they walked down the road to the stable.
"Usually I'd just leave her at the farm and walk into the city, but I needed her to bring me in today."
"No one at that farm could help you out?"
"Oh, probably, but they're quite busy this time of year."
"So... this, whatever this is," he gestured to her pale, grey face, "It isn't catching, is it?"
"Nah, you can't get it, so don't worry."
"But you're sure you're okay?"
"Yes, Arthur, Jesus, stop asking," Grace said, annoyed.
"Sorry, it's just, you look like you should be buried in a grave right now."
"I know, it is ghastly, isn't it? But it does keep pickpockets away."
They arrived at the stable where they were met by a terrified stablehand.
"Miss, will you please remove your horse immediately?"
Before Grace could reply there was a loud whinny followed by a thunderous boom as Tuula kicked the wall.
"Oy! Quit it!" Grace yelled into the barn. Tuula snorted in response, but went quiet. She turned to the stablehand. "I'm so sorry, she's not used to being pent up like this." She reached into her satchel and removed a small wad of bills. "Here, for the trouble. And for any repairs you might need."
"Gosh, thank you, miss!" he said and stepped aside to let Grace in. Arthur followed her in, giving his horse a quick pat.
"Stop your sulking, we're leaving now," Grace said into one of the stalls. Arthur looked to see Tuula standing with her rear towards the stall door.
"Your horse actually has tantrums, does she?" he laughed.
"Oh yes, quite annoying sometimes," she rolled her eyes, picking up her saddle from beside the stall.
"Here, let me," Arthur took the saddle from her and opened the stall door.
"Wait, she'll-" Grace stopped when he went in and placed the saddle on Tuula's back. "Well, I'll be damned. I was going to say she might kick or bite you, but I guess not."
"She's not so bad, are you, girl?" he patted Tuula then turned to Grace, "I didn't know you rode side-saddle."
"I always do when I'm wearing a skirt," she said, "Have you not noticed?"
"Guess not."
Grace smiled then handed Arthur the bridle. He finished tacking up the appaloosa and led her out of the stall. "She likes you," Grace said petting her horse on the forehead.
"She's a terrible judge of character then," Arthur laughed, handing Grace the reins.
"She is an excellent judge of character, she just chooses to hate everyone. Mostly everyone, anyway." She led Tuula outside and Arthur helped her mount up. "Thank you," she smiled down at him.
"So you'll be feeling better in a few days then?"
"Should be, yes."
"I- okay. Be well."
"See you around."
Arthur watched her ride away, happy to have ran into her. He was going to ask her to meet him back in Saint Denis when she was feeling better, but he decided against it. It was somehow more enthralling when they meet by chance. He looked forward to seeing her more and more, but he still wasn't sure how he really felt about her.
Or rather, he was becoming more sure how he felt about her. He just didn't know what to do about it.
A few days later, he was sitting on the front porch of the old house. When he returned to camp, he didn't want to go back out yet. The less time he spent in that terrible city, the better. But he thought often of going back on the chance he might see Grace again. At the very least to make sure she's okay. He didn't understand this strange illness she seemed to have, he'd never seen anything like it except in corpses.
"Mr. Morgan, there you are," Herr Strauss walked up, digging into his bag, "I've picked up some mail for you." He held out a large envelope and a smaller one.
"Thanks," Arthur took them, wondering what they were.
"And soon I'll have another debt for you to collect," Strauss said, walking away.
"Of course," Arthur nodded and opened the smaller envelope. It contained some money and a letter from that awful Jeremy Gill, thanking him for the magnificent fish Arthur had apparently sent. He was going to have to get Grace to teach him a few things about fishing.
The large envelope was stiff and he opened it to find the photographs he had taken with the portable camera. There were the photos of Billy Midnight, Emmet Grainger, and Flaco Hernandez (all dead), and of Black Belle (very much alive). There were a few photos that he took to get used to the camera, mostly blurry ones of Smokey. The last photo was the one he took of Grace skating up at the frozen lake. Her blurred figure was silhouetted against the misty dawn but he could see her features clearly in his mind. He smiled to himself at the memory, it felt like so long ago.
He brought the pictures up to his room, set aside the gunslinger ones for Theodore Levin, and placed one of the better pictures of Smokey on the cabinet with the rest of his photographs. He looked down at the one of Grace and wondered what to do with it. As soon as he thought about giving her the picture, he felt a bit disappointed that he wouldn't have one for himself. Maybe he'll see if he could get another copy. Until then, he'll keep this one next to his picture of Mary.
