"Now when you said it was quiet and private back here, I thought you had something else in mind," said Arthur as he and Grace walked arm in arm along a path behind the mansions.

"Arthur Morgan, what kind of woman do you think I am?" she gasped dramatically then started laughing. "Well, I think I'd prefer a little more privacy than this when it comes to that," she said quietly, nodding to other pedestrians walking along the path as well.

"Yeah, me too," he laughed too, then suddenly stopped. "Hold on a moment." He walked off the path, bent down and picked a couple of flowers from the ground. He put one in his satchel and handed the other to Grace.

"Thank you," she said, sticking the flower into her jacket lapel, "What's the other one for?"

"Oh, I been helping a fancy hat maker get orchids and bird feathers," he replied, holding his arm out for her again.

"And then you're going to rob him?" she joked, taking his arm.

"Heh, nah, he seems a decent sort. Like you said, I won't rob the good ones," he paused, "His shop is just up here, in that garden. I'll just deliver what I have for him."

"Of course. How did you meet him?"

"He was at the mayor's party, choking on a nut."

"Huh."

"Oh, and he knows me as Tacitus Kilgore," he said, "So I suppose that means you will be Mrs. Tacitus Kilgore."

"Grace Kilgore," she wrinkled her nose, "I don't think I like that very much."

"Hah, at least it's only for a little while."

"Thank goodness."

They walked in silence to the shop and Arthur opened the door for her.

"Ah! Mr. Kilgore! And this must be the delightful Mrs. Kilgore!" a flamboyant man greeted them.

"Er, yes, this is Algernon Wasp," Arthur introduced him to Grace.

"Charmed! Enchanté! Delighted!" Algernon kissed her hand.

"Likewise, Mr. Wasp," she replied politely.

"I have those orchids and feathers," Arthur took out them out of his satchel.

"Excellent! And here is your money," Algernon opened the register and handed him a wad of bills. "Mrs. Kilgore, you are the luckiest to have a husband with such an artistic eye."

"I sure am," she smiled over at Arthur.

Algernon then bent behind the counter and placed an extravagant white top hat covered in feathers and flowers on the counter.

"What do you think of this?" he asked.

"Well, that sure is something," said Grace.

"Isn't it just?" Algernon beamed.

"Uh... It's... very exotic," Arthur was unsure of what to say.

"I made it for you!" Algernon said proudly. Grace snorted and tried to hide it behind a cough.

"Oh, um, it's not..." Arthur stammered, "I mean, it would be wasted on me."

"Try it on!" Algernon picked up the hat and handed it to Arthur.

"It's not really for a man of my... coarseness."

"Oh, please," said Algernon.

"Yes, darling, please try it on," Grace giggled. Arthur glared slightly at her, but reluctantly obliged, feeling incredibly ridiculous. Grace was trying to hide her laughter while Algernon looked it over.

"Hm, maybe you're right, it is too much!" Algernon whipped the hat off Arthur's head. "I am ashamed."

"Aw, don't be, it's wonderful!" said Grace. "It's just not... Tacitus."

"Of course! I shall try again," Algernon said happily. "Would you be interested in some new millinery, Mrs. Kilgore?"

"Oh, I don't wear hats," Grace said quickly.

"But you are wearing one now," said Algernon, pointing to her own plum-coloured top hat.

"Except this one," she said.

"I have just the thing!" He reached up and took down a very large drop-brimmed hat with an enormous feather sticking off it. "Now this, this is you."

"Oh yes, it is very me," Grace said sarcastically, looking over at Arthur who was watching gleefully. She removed her own hat and put the new one on. The brim dropped down over her eyes. "Perfect."

"Ah, maybe not," Algernon removed the hat quickly. Arthur was stifling his laughter. "Perhaps you would prefer a corset?"

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I'm afraid I will need to decline," Grace said, pinning her own hat back on, "I have mine specially made from France."

"Ah, France! They do make the most luxurious corsets, but perhaps one day you will try one of mine."

"Perhaps one day. I am very particular."

"Of course! I completely understand," Algernon didn't seem too offended. "Well, don't let me keep you from your busy day! Farewell!"

Arthur and Grace barely made it out of the garden before they burst out laughing.

"Oh my god, that hat," she cried, "I wish I could have taken a picture!"

"What about the one for you?" Arthur was bent over, trying to catch his breath, "How could you even see?"

"I couldn't!" she wiped the tears from her eyes, "Oh, goodness, sorry, he really is quite nice. Just a bit much."

"Yeah, he ain't too bad," he stood up straight, "So you really get your corsets made in France?"

"Oh, no. There's a tailor in Blackwater who makes decent ones so I buy from him. I prefer my corsets without all the trimmings, thank you."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"Heh, like you would even notice," she said.

"I might."

"Promise?" she asked coyly, moving closer to him.

"Grace M- er, Bellerose, what kind of man do you think I am?" he joked.

"Why do you do that?" she tilted her head in curiosity.

"Do what?"

"Start pronouncing my surname with an 'M'."

"Oh, uh, I didn't realise I was doing it." Arthur did realise, but he didn't mean anything by it. So what if Grace Morgan sounded better than Grace Bellerose?

"Just an observation," she shrugged, then started giggling.

"What's so funny?"

"Just thinking how 'Arthur Bellerose' sounds ridiculous," she cackled.

"Hah, it does," he smirked.

"It's a silly name fit for that silly hat!" she fell against him, laughing. He laughed quietly, holding her. She stopped and looked up at him. "What?"

"I like hearing you laugh," he leaned down and kissed her, "And I like doing this."

"Me too," she whispered then kissed him again.

A man cleared his throat nearby, startling them. "Signora?"

Grace and Arthur looked over to see a well-dressed man frowning at her.

"Um, can I help you?" asked Grace.

"You.. you're dead!" the man accused in an accent and pointed at her, his eyes widening.

"Clearly not," she said, then tugged on Arthur's arm, "Let's go."

"You were shot in the head! Thrown in the swamps!"

"Why don't you leave her alone, buddy?" Arthur threatened him.

"At Signor Bronte's!" The man then started speaking in another language, presumably Italian, still pointing at her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grace said simply before turning and walking away. The Italian started to follow.

"I said leave her alone!" Arthur grabbed the man and shoved him so hard he fell to the ground. "Now get out of here before you make me do something I'll regret!"

The Italian crawled back before stumbling to his feet and running away. Arthur saw Grace a short distance away, leaning against a fence with her arms crossed.

"You okay?" he asked as he neared her. She nodded, looking down at the ground. "What was that about?"

"Does it matter?" she said quietly.

"It obviously upset you," he leaned against the fence beside her. "What happened at the Bronte place?"

She paused before speaking. "I kept Jack safe."

"And after we got Jack back?"

She paused again, keeping her gaze downward. "I wasn't needed anymore so they terminated my employment."

Arthur frowned, not knowing what to make of it. It didn't make any sense. "Did he hurt you?"

"Did who hurt me?"

"Angelo Bronte."

"No."

"Okay." It was clear there was more to it, but he didn't want to press the issue. "Let's go then."

"Where?" she took his arm and they headed back down the quiet road towards the city.

"I don't know, we could go see another show at the theatre or something. You said you liked that singer, maybe she's singing tonight."

"Sounds good," she smiled up at him, squeezing his arm in hers. They walked in silence to the main street, Grace relaxing gradually as they did. They were about to cross the street when she suddenly stopped. "Oh, look!" She pointed towards a few men standing around a strange box on a tripod. At first Arthur thought it was a large camera, but a man was turning a handle on the side. What could that be for?

"What is that, some sort of special camera?"

"I don't know," she waved towards it, "Let's go find out!" She let go of his arm and hurried towards the men and their device. Arthur couldn't help but smile as he followed.

"Hello, Miss," one of the men greeted her, "How do you like our moving picture camera? It's the newest thing!"

"Moving pictures?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, instead of taking just one singular photograph, this camera, by use of this handle here, can take many pictures in a row," the man explained, "Then using a special projector, you can watch the scene and it's like you're actually there!"

"Wow, I heard about this but didn't think I'd actually see it," Grace watched curiously as the cameraman stopped turning the handle. "Can I look?"

"Let me change out the film stock first," the cameraman said as he carefully unlatched the cover off the camera and removed it. He took out a circular case, handing it to one of the other men who placed an adhesive label on it. Then the cameraman put in another case and fiddled with something which Arthur and Grace couldn't see, then put the cover back on. He looked through the viewer, then gestured for Grace to look as he started turning the handle.

"Wow, imagine what you could do," she said before beckoning Arthur to look as well.

"With how fast things are moving, the possibilities are endless," the first man said, looking proud.

"Thank you very much," Grace said as Arthur stepped back from the camera and took his arm again. They watched the cameraman for a few moments longer then walked away. "That was interesting. What would you take moving pictures of if you could?"

"I don't know." He thought about it for a moment. "Maybe all those times I been too drunk to remember things."

"I don't think the film reels would last that long," she giggled.

"What would you take moving pictures of?"

"Oh, gosh, all sorts of things," she said, "If they ever make those cameras small enough I could carry on, I would film everything."

They walked to the theatre where they bought tickets for the next show and took their seats up in the balcony. Arthur didn't hesitate to put his arm around her and she leaned into him as they waited for the show to start.

He barely paid attention to anything happening on the stage, not when he couldn't help but be so captivated by Grace's reactions. How she smiled at the jokes the master of ceremonies told, when she swayed slightly to the music and songs, how her eyes widened as a woman breathed fire, and the gasps she made as a magician caught a bullet in his teeth.

When the lights went up, Grace nudged him in the side. "Did you even watch any of it?"

"Yeah."

"Liar," she grinned, "Well, let's get going." She stood and followed Arthur out of the theatre into the dark streets.

"Heh, seems familiar," he said, offering his arm to her.

"Well, yes, you've been here many times before," she said, confused, as she linked her arm though his.

"No, I meant, the last time we went to the theatre."

"Oh, right," she smiled. "That was a nice night."

"So if I kiss you, are you going to run off again?"

"I don't know," she looked up at him, "Maybe you should try and find out."

"Heh, maybe not here," he looked around, "Still too many people around."

"I agree. Let's walk around a bit."

They wandered around the streets, quietly commenting on different storefronts and buildings. As they walked, there were fewer people remaining on the streets apart from a few vagrants. After some time, Arthur was just starting to wonder where exactly they were going when she suddenly pulled him into an alley, pushed him against the wall and kissed him.

"Right here, then," he said, kissing her back then turning them around so she was backed against the wall. He was about to kiss her again when they heard someone laugh nearby. Startled, they both looked to see a bald man in black standing crouching over the body of another man.

"So, you have found me," the man rasped.

"What's going on here?" Arthur pointed down at the body while pushing Grace behind him.

"Stay back, for your own sake," the man said, "I walk with the undead!"

"What, you're a vampire?" Arthur asked.

Grace scoffed beside him. "Vampires don't exist, that's only a legend."

"And legends are based on fact," the man stood, wiping blood from his mouth on the back of his sleeve, "I have been called many names over the centuries." He took a few steps towards them. "And the blood of young maidens," the strange man grinned at Grace, revealing long pointed fangs.

Arthur was about to draw his gun, but the man had ran forward and pushed him with such force that Arthur was thrown across the alley. He hit his head hard on the brick wall. Everything was spinning as he tried to stand and his vision had gone blurry so there were three of everything.

"Grace!" he cried out, stumbling to his knees. The man had backed Grace to the wall. She seemed so stunned she couldn't move. Arthur tried standing again had to balance himself on a nearby crate.

The vampire grasped her by the throat, forcing her to look at him. Arthur raised his gun, but wasn't able to focus enough to aim at the right person. The vampire then pulled her head to the side and bit into her neck.

"Goddammit," Arthur pushed himself forward towards them, but the vampire then fell back, gasping.

"No, it's... it's impossible," he grabbed at his own throat, falling to his knees. A moment later he began to vomit up blood.

Grace was still up against the wall, still in shock of what just happened. Arthur stumbled to her and held her away. They watched the man before them continue to cough up blood before he fell forward to the ground and started to laugh.

"I... am... free," he whispered before he lay still.

Arthur, still feeling dizzy, turned his attention to Grace and looked at her neck where she was bitten. There were two small marks, but only just noticeable, and barely bleeding. He gently wiped away the blood with his thumb.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, running her hand carefully along the side of his head.

"Never mind me, what about you?"

"I'm fine."

"The hell was that about?" he asked, moving to the dead vampire, toeing him in the side to make sure he was dead.

"I don't know," she said, rubbing her neck.

"Don't you have that book about vampires?"

"It's fiction," she said. "And in it, they could kill vampires either by sunlight exposure or a wooden stake through the heart."

"Huh." Arthur looked back down at the vampire. "So I guess the 'blood of young maidens' weren't so great after all."

"Hmf," she scoffed, "Well, I should head back to the farm before they lock me out for being so late."

"You don't have to go," he took her arm gently and led her out of the alley.

"Well, I guess I don't want to be alone tonight," she smiled slightly, "We could find a hotel nearby."

He nodded and they walked down the street until they found a small hotel and checked into a room. The room was small and dingy, but it would do for one night. Grace sat on the bed, squeaking as the old mattress sunk under her. Arthur hung his hat on the back of the door then sat next to her.

"So, I don't have a nightgown," she said softly.

"Could just sleep in what you're wearing," he shrugged.

She smirked. "That's not what I meant."

"Heh, I know." He sat still for a moment, long enough to make her wonder, then kissed her roughly as he pushed her back onto the bed.


When Arthur woke the next morning, Grace was sitting on a chair, half-dressed, and seemed to be deep in thought. She didn't seem to notice when he sat up and spoke to her.

"Hey!" he called out when she didn't respond.

"Hm?" she snapped her gaze up to him.

"You okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine," she smiled as if to reassure him, but he didn't find it very convincing.

"You sure? You look like something's bothering you."

"I'm fine, I just think a lot," she stood and continued to dress.

"What do you think about?"

"Everything." She turned to him as she tightened her corset. "Do you ever feel like you have a million thoughts all at once and you can't choose which one to focus on?"

"Heh, sometimes."

"That's kind of how I'm feeling right now," she smiled at him again.

"I understand," he nodded and started getting dressed. "So what's the plan today?"

"Well, if you don't need to do anything for the others, we should head up to Citadel Rock to help Eagle Flies."

"Oh, right, I forgot about that."

"Shouldn't take too long," she braided her hair and pinned it to her head, then waited for Arthur to finish dressing. "We could be back tomorrow evening, if all goes well."

"Breaking into an oil refinery, what could go wrong?" Arthur joked.

"Plenty. I still think having me go in would be easiest."

"What if you get caught?"

"I probably won't, so long as you don't do anything foolish."

"Now why would I do something like that?"

"Because you don't think I can cope on my own," she smirked as they left the hotel.

"No, it ain't that."

"Liar," she smiled, "But we'll see what's happening when we get there. Let's go get Tuula from the farm then we can get your horse and head out." She took his arm and they walked through the city out to the farm.

As she went into the farmhouse to get her things, Arthur wandered near the barn. He worried about her, wondered if she regretted getting close to him. Maybe that was what she was thinking about that morning. They'd had some close calls ever since she started getting involved and maybe it was getting too much for her, though she seemed to be staying. Not that he was going to argue, but he'd rather not put her in any situation that could get her killed. He didn't know what he'd do if she died.

Before he could think about it any further, he heard a sudden commotion from behind the barn.

"Get away!"

"Stop her!"

"OH GOD!"

Arthur ran to see what was happening. Tuula was charging at some of the farmhands, stopping just short of trampling them, her ears pinned flat on her head. The farmhands were backed against the barn. One of them had a pitchfork and kept threatening the horse with it.

"Hey! Easy, girl," Arthur approached Tuula slowly, but she charged him too. He backed away quickly, tripping on a rock and falling over.

"Just shoot her!" one of the farmhands cried.

"No! Don't!" Arthur stood and tried approaching Tuula again.

This time, the appaloosa turned and galloped off into the nearby bushes. She whinnied shrilly and roared, then there was the telltale sound of a panther growling. Tuula stomped about in the bushes, dipped her head down, grabbed the panther by the neck and threw it out of the bushes. Arthur and the farmhands jumped back in surprise.

The panther growled again as it prepared to pounce, but Tuula charged it, trampling then kicking it high into the air, then trampling it again when it had landed.

"Jesus!" Arthur yelled.

"Damn, that's the big cat what's been attacking our cattle!" one of the farmhands said.

"What's happ- oh," Grace came around the corner, having changed into riding pants and a blue shirt, and saw Tuula sniffing at the dead panther.

"Did you know she could do that?" Arthur asked her.

"Oh yeah, that's not the first big cat she's killed," she shrugged.

"Thought she was going to kill us," one of the farmhands said, leaning on his pitchfork, "Ah, shit, looks like she's hurt." He pointed to the blood dripping to the ground off Tuula's hind leg.

Arthur and Grace rushed around to see large scratches on the other side of Tuula's rump that ran down to her hock. One of the farmhands quickly brought Grace a cloth to wipe up the blood, while another dragged the dead panther away.

"I'll get Mr. Coyle," the farmhand said, running to the horse barn. Arthur took a cloth from another farmhand and helped wipe blood away. Tuula was surprisingly calm as he and Grace gently cleaned her wounds. They were soon joined by an older man.

"Let's see what we got here," he said, approaching the horse. Tuula threw her head up, agitated, until Grace pet her reassuringly.

"It's okay," she said quietly, "You know him. Let him have a look."

Mr. Coyle went around to look at the damage. "Hmm, well, luckily these aren't too deep, but I think it'd be best she stay here until they're healed."

"You sure about that?" asked one of the farmhands nervously.

"Oh, she ain't so bad, are you girl?" Mr. Coyle pet Tuula's neck then turned to Grace, "You okay with that?"

"So long as you don't try to keep her stabled," Grace said, "I'd rather not have to help replace the whole barn."

"Yes, I know," Mr. Coyle laughed, "But we'll do our best. You have always treated us well, Miss Bellerose."

"And pay well too," she smiled.

"Exactly, so leave Tuula with me and we'll get her back to her usual ornery self in no time."

Grace nodded and turned Tuula towards Mr. Coyle. "Now you listen here. He's going to look after you for a while. Please don't thank him by destroying everything." As if she understood, Tuula nickered and reached her nose towards Mr. Coyle.

"Oh, she knows I've got this," Mr. Coyle reached into his jacket, pulled out a cookie, and gave it to Tuula.

"Well that's a good way to win her over," Grace laughed, "Alright, old girl, I'll see you later." She pet Tuula and kissed her on the nose before Mr. Coyle led her away.

"Guess there are some people she likes, huh?" Arthur asked Grace.

"Mr. Coyle's a wonder with horses," she said, "Reminds me of you."

"Me?"

"Mmhm," she nodded, "You're very good with horses. Like you understand them on a philosophical level."

"Heh, I guess so," he followed her back to the farmhouse where she had left her saddlebags. He picked them up before she could. "Well, let's get going."

"Hold on, I'm going to borrow a horse."

"I don't mind, and neither will Smokey."

"Ha, any excuse to get closer to me, eh?" she teased him.

"I don't need no excuse," he pulled her closer to kiss her quickly.

'Mm, but I really should borrow another horse."

"Nah, you can ride with me."

"If you insist," she smiled, "I suppose you might stay out of trouble this way."

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the stable. Grace waited outside while Arthur saddled up his horse. When he came out, she was leaning against the stable smoking a cigarette. She offered the rest of it to him before he lifted her up onto Smokey. He finished off the cigarette, mounted up, and she held him around the waist as they trotted out of the city.

"You sure you don't need to go back to camp yet?" she asked.

"It's fine, I'm sure Dutch has everything under control."

"Are you sure?'

"Are you doubting him?"

"Yes and no. He is clearly intelligent, but maybe not as much as he thinks he is."

"Heh, well, sometimes I think so too but I ain't so sure."

"Understandable."

"Dutch ain't so bad. Most of us wouldn't have made it without him."

"Oh, I believe you. It's nice that you all look out for each other, but Dutch seems to have such unattainable ideas." Grace paused. "Hosea seems more reasonable."

"Yeah." Arthur turned off the road. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course."

"I think Hosea is better at planning things than Dutch, and I think we'd be better off with him in charge."

She gasped dramatically. "Scandalous!" She started giggling. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Heh, I don't think I wanna know Dutch's reaction if he knew."

"Neither do I." She looked around. "So where are we going?"

"Oh, I didn't want to ride near Rhodes," he manoeuvered his horse carefully through the trees.

"It's been a while since you shot up the town," she pointed out.

"Don't want to take the chance."

They rode through the trees until they were past Rhodes, then he turned down the path to Clemens Point.

"Thought we'd rest here for a bit," Arthur said.

"You not afraid of Pinkertons or anyone showing up?" she asked.

"Nah, they probably know we're gone by now," he slowed his horse to a halt in the clearing. "Don't think they'd come back."

"Probably." Grace slid off and had a look around. "I haven't spoken to them in a little while. Not sure what I'm going to tell them."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Arthur dismounted and started removing their saddlebags.

"So where did you sleep here?"

"I thought you spied on us enough to know where we all were," he smirked.

"No, I've seen your camp from the island over there, but I didn't watch for very long."

"Oh. I was over here." He walked over to the empty spot his bed and wagon had been.

"It is a nice spot here," she followed him. "Shame you all got into so much trouble you had to leave."

"Heh, yeah." Arthur returned to his horse and removed his bedroll so they'd have something to sit on. Grace started gathering branches and twigs to start a fire. After cooking and eating some rabbit, they relaxed by the fire. She leaned back against him as he put his arms around her.

She sighed contently. "This is nice."

"Yeah." He leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes. How did he even get to this point? To be sitting here with the woman he loves, and who, for some reason, loves him back. It baffled him. After everything he's done, it shouldn't be like this. He pulled her closer, holding her tighter.

"Arthur? You okay?"

He didn't respond. He didn't even want to open his eyes again, afraid that this was all just an elaborate dream and she would disappear. He kissed the side of her head before moving to just in front of her ear. She hummed in approval, turning her head to him. He kissed her voraciously as he clumsily tried to unbutton her shirt.

"Arthur, wait!" Grace pushed him away and frowned.

"Sorry." Arthur felt his face heat up, ashamed of his behaviour just then.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking worried.

"Yeah."

She took his hand. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm just afraid of losing you, like all this is just going to go away," he confessed.

"You won't lose me," she moved closer to him, "If anything, it should be me who's afraid of losing you."

"Nah, I ain't leaving you."

"So you've said. Why are you afraid of losing me?"

"I- well, I guess I-" he stopped.

"You don't think you deserve to have good things in life?"

He nodded.

"Of course you do, Arthur. While no one in their right mind would mistake you for a saint, you have done plenty of good to deserve it in return."

"Nah, I-"

Grace placed her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "You helped that Albert Mason with his wonderful photographs. You're helping that silly man get his gunslinger stories for that book."

"Yeah, but-"

"You agreed to help that awful Jeremiah Compson before we found out what kind of man he really is. You saved those two Spanish men from a life of slavery. You helped rescue that boy from the Rhodes gunsmith's basement."

"But-"

"You've been collecting those lovely flowers and feathers for that silly Mr. Wasp. You even went face to face with a real lion. Arthur, you could have said no to all those people, but you didn't. You have probably shown more kindness to others in the short time I've known you than most people do in an entire lifetime."

"Hah, or maybe I'm just a fool."

"Well then, kiss me, you fool." Grace smiled at him and he wasted no time in doing so.

Maybe she was right. Just a little.