They returned to Shady Belle shortly after Bill. Dutch was on the balcony and waved for them to come up. Abigail rushed up to them as they dismounted.

"Arthur, would you please do something about Reverend Swanson?"

"Why, what's he done?"

"He keeps talking about some ghost he saw in the swamps," she said angrily, "Says it's the ghost of someone buried here and Jack's scared half to death."

"I'll talk to him."

"Yeah, that's what everyone else said," Abigail stalked off.

"You go see what Dutch wants," Grace said to Arthur, "I'll talk to the Reverend if you want."

"If you're sure."

"Yes, I-" Grace was then interrupted by Molly rushing up and grabbing her hand.

"I need to talk to ya," Molly demanded and pulled Grace away.

"Um, I'll see you in a bit," Grace called to Arthur.. He smirked as he headed upstairs.

"Well, so kind of you to finally join us," Dutch greeted him.

"Been spending a lot of time with Miss Bellerose, haven't you?" Hosea asked with a small smile.

"Heh, yeah."

"Well, that's just fantastic, while you're out gallivanting with her, we're here trying to plan a bank robbery with Angelo Bronte still alive," Dutch said, clearly irritated.

"What if we don't need to rob the bank?" Arthur asked.

"What do you mean? Have you lost your nerve?" Dutch frowned.

"No, I mean-"

"We need to deal with business the right way."

"We don't need to take revenge, we hardly know the guy," Hosea interrupted.

"This ain't about revenge, Hosea, Angelo Bronte don't mean shit to me. This is about the fact that we are planning to rob a bank in his town. A bank which he no doubt protects, a town where his men are gunning for us. Before we do that, we gotta put him out of commission."

"I disagree," said Hosea, "There's always an easier way. Arthur, what did you mean by not needing to rob the bank?"

"Well, Grace, I mean, she and I have a way to get the money we need," Arthur said slowly.

"Oh, well that's settled then," Hosea nodded.

"No, it is not settled," Dutch said angrily, "He is a vindictive little power broker who rules by fear. Now, we pull that stunt in his cess pit of a town, we're doomed. You wanna leave this place? Leave this country? We need that money."

"But if Arthur and Grace-"

"I don't even know if we can trust her, Hosea," Dutch frowned at Arthur.

"Of course you can, Dutch," Arthur raised his voice a little, "She can get you the money we need."

"But this would be it," Dutch said, ignoring Arthur, "This is the last job that we are ever gonna pull. Before the year is out, we are gonna be harvesting mangoes in Tahiti."

"Well forgive me if I'm not thinking too much about the mango harvest," Hosea stood angrily.

"This is it," Dutch said, "Trust me." He looked between Hosea and Arthur. "Arthur?"

Arthur thought for a moment. Angelo Bronte certainly wasn't a nice man, and even Grace didn't have anything kind to say about him. He still wasn't sure exactly what happened to her at the mansion, but if he could get revenge on him for her...

"Well, if it's business, then business is business."

Hosea sighed in defeat. "You'll damn us all."

Dutch glared at Hosea for a moment. "Arthur, come on."

"You better be right about this one," Arthur followed Dutch through the house.

"I am."

"I heard that before."

"And usually I have been right. Now where's Miss Bellerose?"

"Molly wanted to talk to her."

"Goddamn Molly, always wanting to talk."

"What do you want with Grace anyway?"

"She's the only one of us who knows the layout of Bronte's house," Dutch led him out the front door, "She can tell us where that son of a bitch sleeps."

Arthur frowned and followed him to the dock where Molly and Grace were talking. They were just finishing up as Dutch approached.

"We'll talk more later, okay?" Grace said, placing her hand on Molly's shoulder. Molly nodded and looked at Dutch hopefully, then walked away disappointed when he didn't pay any attention.

"Can you tell us what to expect when we get into Bronte's mansion?" Dutch asked.

"Hello to you too," Grace replied sarcastically, "You can expect a lot of armed men."

"Yes, I know that, but I meant what's the layout like, where is Bronte's room?"

Grace looked between Dutch and Arthur, who only raised his eyebrows slightly, then sighed and took out her journal. "I assume you're going in through the back," she said as she started drawing.

"Of course, Arthur and I are going to meet a boatman in Lagras. We can sneak in off the water and take them by surprise."

"Hm. There will still be plenty of armed guards outside," she continued drawing, "So the main floor is straightforward, you've already been to the front parlour. The other rooms on the main floor are mostly for entertaining guests. And you'll be going at night?"

"Well we certainly can't go during the day," Dutch scoffed.

"Just making sure. Angelo Bronte's rooms are on the second floor, left of the stairs and on the right. There will be at least four armed guards up there, but maybe more now after that trolley station robbery." She finished drawing, ripped out the page and handed it to Dutch. "None of Bronte's personal guards actually sleep at the mansion. They take shifts so there are many more he can call in."

"Good. What about safes or secret stashes?"

"I don't know. When I was there, I was always accompanied by one of his guards and I never went into his room. I bet he'll have something there, but I don't know where or what kind of safe it is."

"Thank you," Dutch pocketed the paper and turned to Arthur, "Let's go."

"Be careful," said Grace.

"Always," Arthur took her hand and kissed her, "I'll see you later." He followed Dutch, ignoring the stares from him and the other gang members. No point in hiding his relationship with Grace now.

Dutch remained silent until they had ridden away from the camp. "So, you and her, huh?"

"What of it?"

"Nothing, but I guess this means you'll be leaving us?"

"Of course not." Not right now, Arthur thought to himself.

"So that's just one more person we have to worry about?"

"She can take care of herself."

"But is she with us or against us?"

"Considering she's still doing her damndest to get the Pinkertons off our tail, I'd say she's with us."

"Are you sure that's what she's doing?"

"What's with you, Dutch?" Arthur frowned.

"I feel like I'm going in circles with all of you," Dutch replied, frustrated, "Micah is the only one left with any loyalty."

"Now, that ain't fair."

"You think Micah would question going after Bronte? No, he'd say, 'let's go'."

"I'm here, ain't I? I've been at your side for twenty years."

"I know, I..." Dutch sighed, "I'm sorry, son. It's just the endless debate about everything is wearing me down. The others I can take, but when you're not behind me, it hurts."

"I'm behind you."

Dutch was silent for a moment. "Are you happy with her?"

"Yes."

"So you trust her?"

"With my life."

"Huh. Well, here we are, let me do the talking."

They arrived in Lagras where Dutch introduced Arthur to Thomas, the boatman who would take them to Bronte's mansion. Thomas asked them to help check the crayfish traps as they searched for Thomas's business partner, Jules. They eventually found Jules hiding up a tree with his skiff caught in a log, claiming there was a monster in the swamp. Thomas scoffed at the idea of a monster, but when Jules was attacked while freeing the boat from an underwater tree stump , they quickly changed their minds.

Biggest goddamn gator Arthur had ever seen, and he and Dutch had used up almost all of their ammunition trying to bring it down. Jules had been bitten in the leg by it and was bleeding badly. Arthur managed to stop the bleeding temporarily, but Jules desperately needed proper medical attention.

So when they arrived back at the dock, Arthur was surprised and relieved to see Grace waiting for them.

"Goodness, what happened?" she asked as they lifted Jules out.

"Bit by a huge gator," Arthur said as he watched some of the locals start carrying Jules away. "Hey, let her have a look, she was a nurse," he called to them. They looked over at Thomas as if to ask for permission.

"It's fine, do what you can," Thomas nodded. Grace accompanied the others in bringing Jules to a nearby shack.

"When you're ready to go, I'll be here," Thomas said to Dutch.

"Thanks, I'll go and get the boys ready and we'll do this tomorrow night," said Dutch.

"Mr. Bronte, he's a bad man. Killed lots of folks, hurt a lot of people," said Thomas, "Jules even said they killed a housemaid or someone like that. Shot her in the back of the head, threw her body into the swamp. He tried to find the poor girl, but her body never surfaced. Guess those gators got her."

"Bad business. You coming, Arthur?"

"I'm going to wait for Grace."

"Of course, well we may as well catch up then," Dutch sat on the steps of the dock, "So what were you out doing?"

"Oh, just looking into a couple of leads," Arthur sat next to him, lighting up a cigarette, "Think we got something, just need to confirm some things."

"Huh." Dutch leaned forward. "Well, she seems... respectable." He paused. "What's this thing you got cooking?"

"It's... well, it's more her thing."

"Oh. Big secret?"

"Nah, ain't like that, just need to confirm some details first."

"Hm. So long as the camp gets its share."

"Of course."

Grace soon rejoined them after washing off her hands in the swamp.

"How's the patient?" Arthur asked.

"He'll live," she said, "Nasty bite, never seen anything like it before. Well, once, but it wasn't a gator."

"Well, let's get back to camp," Dutch stood and mounted his horse. Grace and Arthur followed suit and they headed for the road.

"So what were you doing out here?" Arthur asked her as they rode back to camp.

"Went to see this ghost Reverend Swanson was harping about," she said, "I asked Charles to come with us."

"Heh, so did you find any ghosts?"

"I'm not sure. We heard a woman crying, but there was no one there."

"Of course there weren't," Dutch scoffed.

"Yeah, the Reverend was pretty spooked, but I made him promise not to mention it anymore in camp."

"So what were you doing in Lagras?" Dutch asked.

"We were passing by and saw your horses so I told Charles and the Reverend to go ahead while I waited for you."

"I'm sure Jules is glad you did," Arthur said.

Dutch spent the rest of the ride back talking about Bronte and how much he looked forward to meeting him one last time. Grace seemed strangely silent about it.

When they reached camp, Dutch immediately headed into the house, ignoring Molly along the way.

"You should get changed," Grace said, gesturing to Arthur's muddy clothes, "I'll take care of the horses."

Arthur nodded, agreed and went inside to change. As he did so, he kept thinking about what Thomas had said about the girl who had been shot. It was exactly what that Italian man outside of Saint Denis had said to Grace.

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

It didn't make any sense. He sat on his bed and looked over at his picture of himself and Grace. He knew there was something she wasn't telling him, but what? Maybe it was nothing.

He took out the small ring box from his satchel, relieved he had had the foresight to keep it with his horse instead of going into the swamp with it. He tapped it with his fingers, looking back over at the photo. If everything goes well, he'll ask her to marry him after they took care of Angelo Bronte. Then they can use her money to get them all out and once they were all safe and free, he can leave with her for a while. He'd come back, of course, but she probably wouldn't mind. He placed the box into his trunk.

He went back downstairs and found Grace sitting at the campfire with Hosea, Javier, Bill, Uncle, John, Miss Grimshaw, and Tilly. He sat next to her and listened to Javier play his guitar. It was nice, all of them together with Grace by his side.

"That was lovely, muy bonita," Grace said when Javier had finished, "But I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

"Good night, Grace, I'm glad you came back to see us," said Tilly.

"Likewise, good night, all," she stood up, patted Arthur on the shoulder and headed into the house. Arthur opted to stay at the campfire a little longer.

"So. Arthur," Uncle leaned forward, "What was it you said last time? 'It ain't like that'," he taunted. "'Cause it sure seems like it."

"I think it's nice," said Tilly, "You seem happy now."

"Heh, guess so," Arthur couldn't help but smile.

"Well she seems to have a good head on her shoulders, stubborn as she is with all those ideas above her station," Miss Grimshaw shook her head as Arthur bit the inside of his cheek to keep from replying, "Some of you still need reminding of your place."

He waited a little while longer before going up to his room. Grace was already tucked in his bed. He was debating getting in with her when she pulled back the blanket.

"Only if you can behave yourself," she smiled up at him.

"Only if you will," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

"Damn, I knew there was a catch," she smirked and moved back as far as she could to make room for him on the small bed. He embraced her in his arms as he settled in for the night. "Heh, who would've thought."

"What?"

"Do you remember the first night we spent together?" Grace said, "Up at the frozen lake. I was skating and you just met Flaco Hernandez. We shared a bed then. Never thought it would become a regular occurrence."

"Heh, that was only because you was cold," he kissed her forehead.

"Now it's too warm, but I don't mind," she sighed and snuggled in closer.

The following day, Grace made herself useful around the camp, helping out with the horses and assisting Pearson with the cooking. Arthur spent most of his day discussing the upcoming assault on the Bronte mansion with Dutch, going over as many details as they could.

"We should be ready to leave after we're done," said Arthur, "Tell everyone to pack up and be ready in the morning."

"And what about the bank?" Dutch frowned.

"I already said we have a way to get the money we need."

"But this is a city bank, Arthur, you can't possibly have that kind of money."

"But-"

"I didn't do all this planning for nothing!"

Arthur didn't reply. If only that money hadn't gone missing from his trunk. He was so sure that someone would have mentioned coming across it by now.

He went outside to find Grace but was distracted by Bill and Micah talking nearby.

"So what's your real first name then?" Micah asked.

Bill paused. "Marion."

"Marion?" Micah said gleefully, "My, what a nasty momma and daddy you must have had. Explains a lot."

"It's a family name!"

"I can see why you stick with Bill. Marion." Micah started to walk away with a chuckle. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Marion."

Bill glared after him before noticing Arthur was eavesdropping. "What?"

"Hey there, Mary!" Arthur greeted him.

"Shut up!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am," Arthur teased. Grace joined them and smacked Arthur in the arm.

"Stop it, Marion is a fine name for a man," she said.

"You think so?" Bill looked at her, surprised.

"Of course. There was a war hero named Marion. Maybe your parents named you after him."

"Yeah... yeah! I coulda been named after a big war hero!" Bill said proudly.

"Exactly, so don't let them get to you." Grace smiled and headed around the back of the house. Bill looked far happier and sat up straighter as Arthur followed her.

"There really a war hero named Marion?"

"Maybe? I'm not sure, but I doubt Bill or anyone else here is actually going to go look it up."

Arthur shook his head. "You really are something, you know that?"

"So you keep telling me." She headed to the boathouse and sat on the steps. "So what's happening with Angelo Bronte?"

Arthur took out a couple of cigarettes, lit them, and passed one to Grace as he told her how they were still going to take care of Bronte.

"Hm."

"You don't think we should?"

"I don't know, I mean, he's a nasty man, but he also has a lot of pull in Saint Denis, including with the mayor. I wouldn't be surprised if he's put it out there that if anything were to happen to him, then to look for you lot."

"Damn, I never thought of that," Arthur scratched his chin.

"I'd tell you to not go through with it, but I know there's no changing Dutch's mind."

"Yeah."

"Just come back alive," she looked at him earnestly. He took her hand and kissed it as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"So... you remember that Italian feller near Saint Denis who kept saying you were shot?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well, that boatman, Thomas, said they saw some girl get shot and thrown in the swamp behind Bronte's mansion."

He felt Grace tense up. "So?"

"So, kind of a coincidence, don't you think?"

"I suppose."

"Do you know who was shot?"

"Yes."

"Who was it?"

"Does it matter?" she leaned forward and finished her cigarette.

"No, I guess not. Guess that feller just got you mixed up with that other poor girl." Arthur tossed his cigarette butt to the side and leaned forward, coughing slightly.

"You've been doing that a lot," she said quietly.

"What?"

"Coughing. You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, it's probably nothing, just fed up with all this swamps."

"I don't blame you. Just... be careful."

"Of course."

Before he knew it, it was time for them to go. Dutch had chosen Bill, Lenny, and John to go along. Arthur kissed Grace goodbye, promising to see her later.

"You better," she said, squeezing his hand as he left.

He rode to Lagras with the others, tuning out Dutch trying to hype them up. He kept thinking about Grace and the ring he had hidden in his trunk. He had written a note to her, in case he didn't come back, but he had no intention of not coming back.

Thomas was already waiting for them when they arrived. Dutch ran through the plan with him as they all climbed into the waiting boat.

"How's Jules?" Arthur asked when Dutch had finished.

"Oh, he'll be fine, be a while before he'll go into the swamp again," said Thomas.

They made their way slowly through the swampy river to the bank behind Bronte's mansion. Dutch instructed Thomas to pick them up at the dock before they scaled the wall and began their assault.

Grace was right that Bronte had increased the number of guards at his house. They seemed to be unending until they were able to breach the doors. Inside there were even more.

Upstairs, Arthur and John cleared the guards and found Angelo Bronte hiding in his private bathroom. He tried shooting them, but his gun had jammed so he threw it at John. He then tried to bribe them, but John punched and knocked him out.

"You can carry him, I ain't touching that piece of shit," he said to Arthur.

Arthur picked up and threw Bronte over his shoulder just as they heard the sound of police whistles approaching. He rushed out the back with the others shooting down the police officers now surrounding the house.

They finally cleared a way to the boat, loaded Bronte's unconscious body in, and got away before any more police showed up. Dutch waited until they got closer to Lagras before waking Bronte up.

"So, big man, we gonna ransom you or what?"

"You are pathetic," Bronte replied, "You are nothing, you do nothing, you mean nothing, you stand for nothing. Me? I run a city, and when the law catch up to you, you will die like nothing."

"I possess things you will never understand," Dutch sneered.

"You don't even possess your own men. A thousand dollars to the man who kills him and sets me free."

No one made a move and Dutch smirked. "What are you gonna say now?"

"They are even bigger fools than you, the law is already on their way, the dogs will sniff you out."

"Oh yeah, they're good at smelling filth, aren't they?" Dutch grabbed Bronte by the back of the neck and leaned him over the boat, "And filth must be disposed of!" He forced Bronte's face into the water. "Your friends the Pinkertons gonna come and rescue you? You repulsive little maggot!" Dutch kept his head under water until he stopped moving. Dutch paused a moment before pushing Bronte's body out of the boat and a nearby gator approached it.

"Jesus, what part of your philosophy books cover feeding a feller to a goddamn alligator, Dutch?" John asked, shocked by what he had just witnessed.

"The part that covers weakness," Dutch replied sternly as they docked the boat and he got out.

Arthur and John looked at the swampy water, now tinted a dark red, before following the others to their horses.

The ride back was silent. They arrived back at camp to a very angry Micah being taunted by Uncle as Grace stood by looking incredibly irritated.

"I ain't never heard someone squeal so loud!" Uncle laughed.

"Shut up!"

"What's going on?" Dutch asked after he dismounted.

"Micah made a move on Arthur's girl," Uncle smirked. Arthur clenched his fists, but Grace put her hand over his and shook her head.

"And?" Dutch raised his eyebrows.

"And he wouldn't take no for an answer so I shoved a snake down his pants," she said calmly as Uncle howled in laughter.

"What are you going to do about her, Dutch?" Micah demanded.

"Me?" Dutch looked over at Grace who narrowed her eyes as if to dare him to say anything, "Well, seems to me you both need to cool your heads."

"What? She threatened me!"

"Micah, I do not need this right now!"

"What about her?" he pointed at Grace, "Just let her waltz in, like she owns the damn place."

"She seems alright to me," Bill said quietly.

"Just because she said you might be named after a war hero?" Micah scoffed.

"Enough! Micah, you leave her alone, and Grace, leave him alone," Dutch looked between Micah and Grace, then shook his head, and stalked off to the house. "After all I've done for all of you!"

Micah glared at them before heading back into camp, followed by Bill, Lenny, and John.

"You really put a snake down his pants?" Arthur chuckled.

"Most action he's ever going to get from me," she said, "How did it go?"

"Well, Bronte's dead."

"And half of Saint Denis will be after you now."

Arthur nodded. "So we have to leave soon."

"How soon? I can get the money tomorrow."

"Then we'll leave tomorrow. All of us."

Grace nodded. "Okay." She pulled him closer and kissed him. "I'll see you upstairs."

He watched her head back to the house before he turned to tend to his horse. His mind was racing now, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. Everything was finally going to work out, he could feel it. The gang would be able to escape and finally be free, and he would be with Grace. It took everything in him to not sprint to the house.

"Arthur?" Trelawny called out quietly from the side of the house.

"Josiah Trelawny, was wondering when you'd show up again."

"I need to talk to you. In private." He seemed nervous.

"Right now?"

"Right now."

Arthur shrugged and followed Trelawny around the back of the house towards the old graveyard. "Is there a problem?"

"I dare say there may be," Trelawny said, looking around to make sure they were alone, "A short while ago, Dutch asked me to look into Grace's past, see if she's on the up-and-up, so to speak."

"Okay, and?"

"And I sent a telegram to New York and this was their reply." He handed a letter to Arthur. He took it and lit a match so he could read it.


Dear Sir,

There is only one record of a Grace Bellerose from the City of New York and that is Grace Miriam Bellerose.

She was born on the 22nd of February, 1779 and died in a house fire in November 1800 under undetermined circumstances.

There are no further records of any other Grace Bellerose having been born or having lived in the City of New York or the State of New York since 1800 as the Bellerose family has forbidden anyone to use the name. The reason is a private family matter.

The Bellerose family do not wish to be contacted regarding Grace Miriam Bellerose.

Regards,

Robert Carlton, New York Genealogical Society


Arthur re-read the letter again, not knowing what to think, barely noticing the match had burned down to his fingers.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Trelawny said quietly.

"Have you told Dutch?" Arthur demanded.

"No, I felt you needed to know first."

"Don't tell anyone," Arthur said angrily, "And I mean not a soul. Especially not Dutch."

"On my honour, dear boy," Trelawny promised, and left.

Arthur read the letter once more. It couldn't be true. But if it was, it meant one thing.

The Grace he had fallen in love with was a fraud.