Arthur woke the next day feeling like his throat was on fire. A cup of still hot tea was waiting for him on the nearby table and he drank it down eagerly. He looked around to see Grace talking closely with Tilly and Mary-Beth near Pearson's wagon. He ran his hand across his chin and decided to shave.
When he had finished, he frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Without the stubble, his face was far more pale and gaunt than he thought. He shook his head and put on his hat, hoping no one would notice.
"You okay, friend?" Javier walked up.
"Never better," Arthur said.
"You sure? After what happened with Strauss?"
"We're better off without him."
"So who you going to kick out next?"
"I know who I'd like to kick out next," Arthur narrowed his eyes as he looked over at Micah who was polishing one of his pistols near Dutch's tent.
"We just have to stay behind Dutch, it's the only way," Javier turned and walked away.
"Sure," Arthur said to himself. He glanced at Dutch's tent, the flaps closed as it usually was most of these days. He wondered what was going through Dutch's mind these days, if he really was trying to get them all out of here.
His thoughts were interrupted by someone gently touching his arm.
"How are you?" Grace asked.
"Oh, I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," she looked over his pallid face with concern. "Want to get out of here for a bit?"
"Sure."
They tacked up their horses in silence and rode out. He was glad to get out of camp, even for just a little while.
"So where we headed?" he asked.
"I thought we'd go back to my cabin, just for a rest," she said, "And also for some decent food. Forgive me, but Pearson's cooking is awful now."
"Yeah, but I think he's got other things on his mind."
"Oh, I know," she sighed, "I don't blame him at all, but one can only take so much of terrible meals."
Arthur couldn't help but chuckle a little. "I'm with you there. So we hunting something?"
"No, I have some rabbit and beef meat that should still be good, as well as potatoes."
"Well I- hold up," he stopped his horse. "Those Pinkertons up ahead?" He pointed to a group of men on horseback further up the hill, then took out his binoculars for a better look. "Yeah, looks like it."
"Guess we're going around, unless I can try to talk them into going elsewhere," she looked back down the road, "They are awfully close to your camp."
"What if they recognise you?" he passed her his binoculars.
"I shouldn't think so," she said, "I don't recognise any of them, and I really only talked to that Milton and Ross." She handed the binoculars back. "Maybe ride into the trees there, just in case."
"I'd rather be ready to help," Arthur patted his holster.
"No, I'll be fine," she insisted, "Even if things don't go well, I'll be fine. You know I will."
"But-"
"This is not a debate. If things go wrong, I will be fine. You won't."
He reluctantly conceded and turned his horse into the trees then dismounted. He watched her trot up the road towards the Pinkertons and then took his rifle off his saddle. He hid behind a tree and watched her through the scope as she approached the Pinkertons.
One of them raised his hand to stop her and asked her something. Grace shook her head. The Pinkerton then handed her a few papers, presumably bounty posters and she leafed through them. She then nodded and handed the posters back before pointing down the road to send them north. The Pinkerton tipped his hat to her and mounted his own horse, gesturing to the rest of the group to follow him. Grace moved her horse aside to let them pass. One agent stopped to talk to her then rode on. After a few moments, she turned towards where he was hiding and waved him out.
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, returned the rifle to his saddle, and mounted up. She was still watching the road to the north where she had sent the Pinkertons as he rode up.
"So where did you send them?" he asked.
"I said I saw someone who looked very similar to Micah up north past the falls."
"Did they recognise you?"
"One said I looked familiar, but I told him if we had met, I'd have remembered his face," she paused then snickered, "Ugly as all hell."
Arthur burst out laughing, "A face only a mother can love."
"Poor woman," she giggled, "Well, let's move on before they decide to come back this way."
They continued to ride down the road to the lake. Grace pointed to the small island in the middle and told him she had found the gold bars there from the Jack Hall gang treasure map.
"Any ideas where the other one is?" he asked, "Looked like it's behind a small waterfall."
"I thought it was the one west of Valentine, but I don't think it is. There's another small waterfall a little south of your camp so we could check that out."
"Hey! You there!" a man's voice called out to them. Arthur and Grace stopped to see a man sitting against a boulder off the road. "Can you help?"
"What's the problem?" Arthur asked as he dismounted.
"My goddamn horse spooked and ran off," the man shifted and they noticed he was missing the lower part of his right leg.
"Are you hurt?" Grace dismounted and approached him.
"Not too badly, just that he took my damn leg," the man slapped his right knee.
"Well, I'm afraid we're just out of spare legs so I think we'll have to find your horse," she smiled.
"Hah, well, he went that way, I think," the man pointed towards the lake, "His name's Buell, angry bastard of a horse."
"Sounds like he and Tuula would get along," Arthur said to Grace as he mounted Smokey to search for the missing horse. He didn't have far to look as he spotted the cremello horse grazing at the edge of the lake. He couldn't help but laugh to himself at the sight of the wooden leg dangling from the stirrup.
He rode closer then dismounted, moving slowly so as not to spook Buell again. But Buell saw him coming, tossed his head, and trotted away.
"Aw, damn," Arthur hurried after the horse. "Whoa there," he called out.
Buell reluctantly stopped and snorted, tossing his head again. Arthur spoke calmly to him as he approached slowly. Buell whinnied loudly then perked his ears when Tuula responded.
"Heh, that got your attention, huh?" Arthur was able to get close enough to pet him on the neck and take hold of the reins, "Come on then, if you're good, you can meet a new friend. And maybe stop throwing off old friends and leaving them stranded." He led Buell back to the man and Grace. Buell whinnied again, but this time Tuula ignored him and continued to graze on some grass.
"Sorry, boy, she's found other interests," Grace said with a smile.
"Thank you, mister. Mister?" the man pushed himself up to stand against the boulder.
"Arthur. And you're right, he is a brute." Arthur patted Buell on the neck.
"Hamish Sinclair. Would you mind handing me my leg there?"
Arthur pulled the wooden leg from the stirrup and handed it to Hamish.
"Damn horse, weren't but a snake that spooked him," he snorted as he reattached his leg. "Bears barely make him blink, but a tiny snake?"
"Heh, so how did you lose the leg?" Arthur asked.
"In the war, cannon ball."
Grace's eyes widened. "You got hit by a cannon ball and survived?"
"Only hit the leg, pretty clean. I got lucky and didn't get gangrene unlike some other poor bastard I knew. Saw another kid get cut in half so all things considered, I'm doing pretty well."
"What's it like having a false leg?"
"It's okay," Hamish took the reins from Arthur and mounted up on Buell. "I can still hunt, fish, enjoy being outside. Riding can be a hazard sometimes," he leaned forward and pet Buell. "You fish?"
"I'm a pretty poor fisherman, she's better at it than me," Arthur gestured to Grace.
"Yeah, I see you sometimes out by the lake," Hamish nodded at Grace then turned back to Arthur, "Wouldn't mind a fishing buddy sometime and I'm great at it so I think we'd do okay."
"Sounds like a great idea," Grace said.
"My cabin is just over on the other side of the lake there, so stop by any time." He pet Buell again. "And you throw me again and I'm feeding you to the wolves."
They watched Hamish and Buell ride away before mounting their own horses.
"How come you've never met him before?" Arthur asked.
"We've said hello once in a while, but nothing more than that," she shrugged. "To be honest, I hadn't even noticed he had a wooden leg."
"You ever deal with cannon injuries during the war?"
"Yes. Though most of them were killed or died soon afterward of their injuries. Hamish really did get lucky."
They arrived at Grace's cabin and she started to get the food ready while Arthur untacked their horses. He went inside to see her cutting up some potatoes at the table.
"Anything I can do?" he asked.
"No, thank you," she smiled at him then stopped chopping. "Actually, could you do a bit of dusting? And if you're up for it, clean the windows?"
"Of course." He picked up the cloth she was gesturing at and started to wipe the dust which had collected while they had been away. As he wiped down her desk, he realised the last time he had been here was when they reunited. It felt like such a long time ago.
After he had cleaned off the windows, he was starting to feel a little lightheaded. Grace was just adding some meat to the stew pot as he sat down on her bed. He began to cough, sputtering bits of blood into his hand. A moment later, she sat next to him, offering a handkerchief and rubbing his back. He took it from her to cough into it and wipe the blood off his hands. She then took the bloodied handkerchief from him and replaced it with a cup of tea.
"Rest," she said, "I'll let you know when it's time to eat."
He chugged down the tea, then lay back on the bed. "You take good care of me, you know that?"
"Someone has to," she said with a smile, taking the empty mug from the side table.
Arthur just closed his eyes and listened to Grace do her thing around the cabin. He heard her go outside and use the water pump to fill a bucket with water, followed by some light splashing. He assumed she was washing the mug and maybe some other things. She returned to the cabin and he heard her put away the clean dishes. Then he listened to her sweep up.
After she had swept all the dirt out of the cabin, he heard her set the broom back against the door, then the sound of the pot lid being removed and the stew being stirred. The lid was replaced and he heard her approach the bed. He moved over and she lay down next to him as he embraced her.
No words were exchanged as they lay together. He felt Grace's fingers gently graze his shirt buttons and he held her tightly. She sighed contently and kissed his neck. He kissed her forehead and hugged her tighter.
"It ain't fair," he murmured.
"Hm?"
"It ain't fair," he repeated and opened his eyes, "Things were supposed to be different now."
"How so?"
"We was all supposed to be long gone, free from all the Pinkertons, and you and me was supposed to..." he stopped.
"What?"
"Well, we was supposed to be like this, just us, for the rest of our, erm, I mean..."
"I know what you mean," she said quietly, "But if life were fair, I'd be long dead by now."
"I probably would be too. It' s just... I want more time."
She said nothing and moved up to kiss him. He held her tightly as he kissed her back, refusing to let go.
"You need to rest," she whispered.
"I need this," he said, rolling her onto her back and began to unbutton her blouse. She smiled up at him and nodded before kissing him again.
—
The stew had overcooked, but neither of them minded. As Grace tidied up, Arthur glanced over at her paintings which he noticed hadn't been moved since he sorted them a couple months before.
"Have you done any new paintings?" he asked.
"No, I haven't had time," she said, putting away their dishes.
"Oh." He looked over at the canvases again, neatly stacked against one of her bookshelves. "These aren't all the paintings you've done in your life, are they?"
"No, I think I'd need a bigger house to store them if I kept them all," she smiled, "I've done many watercolour paintings since that's what I was taught as a girl, but I've only done oils like these in the past ten years."
"What happened to your other paintings?"
Grace went quiet for a moment. "Lost some of them, others I painted on commission or I gave them to people who liked them. I don't know yet what I'm going to do with these ones." She gestured to the canvases. "Anyway, we should get going."
"Where?"
"Back to your camp," she said, "I thought you'd like to get away for a while, but we do need to return."
Arthur agreed and put on his coat and hat before following Grace outside to tack up their horses.
"Do you think your money will be in soon?" he asked as he finished tightening the cinch of his saddle.
"I should think so," she said, "I was planning on going to the city in a couple of days to check."
"So not much longer until this is all over."
"Maybe not," she mounted up, "Anyway, let's get going."
They rode away from her cabin, unaware they were being watched.
It was early evening by the time they reached camp. They had a small amount of Pearson's stew, having already eaten not too long before. Grace started to help with the cleaning while Arthur wandered over to his cot to rest.
"I got it," Dutch sat on a chair near Arthur's cot, "New York. We are going to go to New York and get lost there, get on a boat to Tahiti, the Fiji Islands, or this place, New Guinea. But first we have to make a whole lot of commotion and then we disappear."
"We really need more commotion?"
"One score, and one whole hell of a lot of noise."
"We ain't so good at doing these any more, Dutch," Arthur shook his head, "We ain't had good luck in a long time."
Dutch narrowed his eyes slightly. "Are you feeling alright, Arthur?"
"I'm just fine."
"Pardon me for interrupting," Charles walked up accompanied by Eagle Flies.
"Hello," Arthur greeted them, "Dutch, this is Eagle Flies, his father is a great chief. Charles and I were, um-"
"Pretended to be mercenaries, did me a great favour," said Eagle Flies.
"How's your father?" Arthur asked.
"Father has confused wisdom with weakness," Eagle Flies scoffed, "Our people have suffered too much, been lied to too much, and now they've taken our horses."
"Who has?" Dutch demanded.
"The infantry division posted at Fort Wallace," Charles said.
"Without horses we cannot hunt, without hunting, we will starve," Eagle Flies said angrily, "This is another act of war by Colonel Favours." He pulled out a small fold of bills. "You men have helped me before and I have money."
"Put your money away, son," Dutch pushed Eagle Flies's outstretched hand away. "What do you think, Charles?"
"You know I told your father I will not fight over some horses," Charles said to Eagle Flies.
"But I made no such promise," Dutch said, "Come along."
Eagle Flies eagerly followed Dutch to their horses.
"We must go with them, try to keep things from getting out of hand," said Charles. Arthur reluctantly agreed.
"What's happening?" Grace walked up to them.
"The army have taken away their horses," Arthur gestured to Eagle Flies, "We're going to get them back."
"I'm coming with you," she said, determined.
"No, not this time," said Arthur.
"But-"
"Just, not this time."
"Okay," she kissed him, "Be careful. You too, Charles."
Charles nodded at her and they followed Dutch and Eagle Flies out of camp.
Saw Eagle Flies, the Chief's son again. Dutch was captivated by him, turning on all his charm and confidence and seeming like a dangerous snake. What is wrong with him? Eagle Flies is desperate and angry. The local regimen are tormenting him and grading him into a fight. Now Dutch is in his ear. This will be a disaster.
Arthur and Charles returned to camp late while Dutch helped Eagle Flies get the horses back to the reservation. They were both troubled by Dutch's insistence on helping Eagle Flies fight the army and Arthur promised Charles to talk to Rains Fall as soon as he could.
Grace was waiting for him at his cot with a cup of tea. "Where's Dutch?" she asked as he sat next to her, taking the tea.
Arthur told her about having to steal the horses off a boat near Van Horn, and Dutch's plan to take on the army on behalf of the Wapitis.
"He's not doing this for them," she said.
"I know," Arthur took a sip of the tea, "I promised Charles I'd speak to Rains Fall up at the reservation."
Grace nodded in agreement. "I'll come with you this time."
"I was hoping you would. Seems they're in bad sorts."
"I know, I've seen it before. Governments make false promises to the Indians, then take everything away from them. Guess they're hoping if they die out, they won't be a problem anymore."
"Let's go first thing in the morning," Arthur chugged back the rest of the tea and lay down with her. "Do you think you could give the Indians money too?"
"I could, but I don't know if that will help. I'll try."
They rode out early the following morning, despite Arthur feeling exhausted. Along the way, Grace told him about the plights of different Indian tribes across the United States and Canada, how they're rounded up and forced off their lands.
"I guess I never gave it much thought," he said as they cantered down a flat stretch of the road.
"No, very few people do," she said, "I've helped a little when I could, but there's only so much I can do."
"Eagle Flies told us that the army has been withholding medicine and some of them are sick. Can you help with that?"
"I will do my best," she sighed, "Like I've said before, I was a war nurse and I have more experience with injuries sustained in combat. I don't actually have much knowledge in most illnesses. But I will do what I can even if that means having to go and get medicine myself."
When they arrived at the reservation, one of the Indians demanded to know why they were there.
"I've come to talk to Rains Fall," said Arthur, dismounting and holding up his hands, "I've helped his son, Eagle Flies."
"Very well, that way," the Indian pointed at a large tent further into the camp before sitting back down at his fire.
Arthur and Grace approached the tent. He paused a moment before opening the flap slightly. "Hello?"
"Come in," Rains Fall said from within. Arthur opened the flap and gestured for Grace to enter first.
"I'll stay here," she said.
Arthur entered the tent to find Rains Fall soaking a cloth in a bowl of water then applying to it to the forehead of an older man. Another man was mixing some herbs in a bowl by the fire.
"So. Did you have fun with my son, the impetuous prince?" he asked Arthur, "I believe you went on a raid with him."
"I'm... I'm sorry," Arthur said quietly.
"Colonel Favours, he has already exacted some measure of revenge for the raid," Rains Fall said angrily, "Two women were assaulted by his men."
"I'm very sorry about all of this," Arthur looked down at the older man being tended to, who appeared to be quite ill, "Are the women okay?"
Rains Fall stared at him a moment and scoffed slightly.
"My wi- I mean, I have someone who can help, she was a nurse," Arthur gestured outside, "I know you have your own ways, but..." he began coughing.
"You don't sound well yourself."
"I'm not, I'm... I think I'm dying."
"Then I hope you find peace," Rains Fall nodded at the other man who went outside, presumably to lead Grace to help the others.
"I don't know much about that," Arthur said.
"Apparently not," Rains Fall looked up at him, "My son, he thinks there is glory in death. Maybe he's right, but for me, I saw death being handed out so freely by the most foolish of men, I never could equate it with victory."
"I've killed a lot of people for a whole lot of dumb reasons and I ain't never seen much glory in it."
"Your friend, Mr. Van der Linde, he talks a lot."
"That he does."
"I don't know him, but my son is easily led," Rains Fall stood as the other man returned, "Perhaps we could go for a ride? It won't take long."
"Sure," Arthur followed him out of the tent to their horses. Grace was presumably in another tent, tending to one of the sick or injured.
As they rode out, they were joined by a soldier who introduced himself as Captain Monroe. He explained to Rains Fall that despite his efforts to talk to the mayor and the Bureau of Indian Affairs, the oil company had received approval to go ahead with drilling on the reservation, but promised to do as much as he could.
"Mr. Morgan, if you have the time, could you assist?" Captain Monroe asked Arthur, "Some things would be best be done by those outside of the tribe."
Arthur thought for a moment and agreed. Captain Monroe thanked him and parted ways with them at the next fork in the road.
As Rains Fall and Arthur rode through the mountains, Arthur spoke out with his concerns over Dutch getting involved in their affairs, but not knowing how to solve it. Rains Fall said he would give it some thought, then listened patiently as Arthur opened up about his past and his tuberculosis. He talked about Mary, and about Eliza and Isaac, and started to talk about Grace, but hesitated.
What would Rains Fall think about Grace apparently being immortal? Would he even believe it? He was about to hint towards it when Rains Fall cried out and rushed forward.
"No! What's happened?" Rains Fall quickly dismounted his horse and ran towards the smoking remains of a small wigwam. "Who would do such a thing?" He began sifting through the debris. "I need to find the Chanupa."
Arthur didn't know what a Chanupa was, but he started looking for anything that looked important. He instead found some empty whiskey bottles nearby, then spotted a thin plume of smoke rising on the other side of the mountain. He took out his binoculars, saw the army encampment below, and knew where to find this sacred Chanupa.
Went to speak to the Chief about the situation. I helped him recover some precious things from the army.
He gave me some medicine which helped me a little. He's a man who not so long ago I would have found weak and pathetic, and now I see as wise and thoughtful and sensible.
I would love to help him, or at least stop Dutch pushing his son to do something stupid.
When they returned to the reservation, Grace was sitting on a log near her horse. Rains Fall thanked Arthur again and left for his tent.
"Have a good ride?" Grace asked him as she stood.
"Sure," he waited for her to mount up before they rode out. "So, those women, are they okay?"
"What do you think?" she snapped, then sighed. "Sorry. Physically they will heal, but not so much mentally. You don't forget things like that."
"Oh."
"Goddamn savages," she swore under her breath.
"The Indians?"
"No, of course not. I meant the army. Treating these poor people as if they were dangerous animals, withholding and stealing things from them, violating them," Grace choked up.
"Then what can we do?"
"I don't know," she said quietly, "I just... don't know. It feels like anything we can do, it's never enough. But we should still do what we can."
Arthur agreed, but secretly felt exhausted over having to add something else to his seemingly neverending list of obligations. But maybe when Grace's money came in, there would be enough to go around and help everyone. Given their luck lately, he didn't feel very optimistic.
