May 7, 1899

Well, I gave Mary-Beth the necklace I'd found on the train. She liked it a lot and even kissed my cheek - took me damn near by surprise! We made it off the mountain and to a new camp around this place called Horseshoe Overlook. It's right outside the town of Valentine.

It's ok, not the best - still kind of cold, but anything feels better than Colter. That shit was unbearable. Anyway, I'm starting to worry that Dutch is leading us to the bridge of nowhere. Granted, I'm grateful we're back down in civilization, I just...I feel like we'll be running again, because we always do.

I'd like to talk to my Pa about it, but I wouldn't even know how to start that conversation. I wouldn't want to offend anyone, least of all, my Pa. He thinks of Dutch as a father, and he's been more of a father to him than his real father.

Good thing I have this journal, to say the things I can't say out loud or to others. But it does get lonely only talking to myself.

Well I gotta run!

E.M

"Ethan Morgan!" Miss Grimshaw squawked.

He looked up from his journal, closing it as the older woman grew near his tent. He dropped it in the crate he used to store his things, then closed the lid.

"What is it?"

She folded her arms. "I need you to find Swanson, he's gone again!"

"Well where is he?"

"How the hell should I know? He said he was headed to Flatneck Station and that was half a day ago!"

Ethan heaved a sigh, kicking the ground with the tip of his boot. "Why do I always gotta find him? Can't you enlist somebody else?"

"I would but your Pa won't go after him no more, not after the last time, same goes for Javier. Hosea and Bill ain't here, I wouldn't be surprised if Micah left the poor bastard to his own devices and John's just about as useless as a sack of grain right now...you're all that's left."

He looked up at the gray sky with a huff. "Fine, fine. I'll find him, but I'm not doing it anymore."

"Fine. But when you find him, do me a favor and give him a swift kick in the rear."

"Well he's no child, Miss Grimshaw, surely he can fend for himself-"

She inched closer, a boney finger in his chest. "He knows too much, Mr. Morgan - loose lips sink ships!"

He held up his hands. "Fine - I'll go!"

She turned without saying another word and stomped off, presumably to devour her next victim. He wished he could warn them of her sour mood...it was worse than usual. Ethan turned back into his tent and grabbed his hat off the crate, gun-belt off his bed and hunting jacket off the clothing trunk. He slung the Carbine Repeater his father gifted him over his shoulder and grabbed his leather riding gloves.

He pulled on his gloves as he walked over to Gray, who grazed happily in the grass with his friends. He didn't have plans to leave camp any time soon, so he never saddled him when he woke up. It would take too much time saddling him up now.

"Shit."

"What's wrong?" Arthur quipped.

"Forgot to saddle Gray. Can I take Bleu?"

"Depends." He replied, striking a match on his boot.

"On?"

Arthur shook the match out, as he took a long drag off his cigarette. "Where ya going?"

He huffed. "To find that asshole preacher."

"Again?"

"Yeah, again. Miss Grimshaw demanded it."

"Well don't be disobeying her, she's got us all by the balls."

"No we wouldn't want that."

Arthur turned to Bleu. "Take him. But keep an eye on his gait, he was limpin' the other day."

"Might need new shoes."

"Maybe," He exhaled a string of smoke. "Just keep an eye on it. Don't be runnin' him too hard either, I'll kick your ass."

Ethan smirked as he walked up to Bleu. "Hey bud, you're gonna be mine for the day. How's that?"

"Tell Swanson he's got an ass kicking waiting for him."

"Heh" He hoisted himself up in the saddle. "He's on everybody's shit list today, huh?"

"To put it mildly." Arthur ran his hand over Bleu's neck.

"Need anything while I'm out?"

"Yeah my horse."

Ethan snickered. "He'll be fine. I know my horses."

"I know you do," Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh listen, if ya can't find him, you know where to find me."

He tipped his hat. "Much obliged."

Arthur chuckled. "Gettin' too big for your britches there son."

Ethan trotted Bleu, careful to mind his gait as his father asked. He was pretty sure he was in dire need of new shoes and he might surprise him and treat Bleu. He had a pocket watch and a gold ring that he nicked from Blackwater he needed to pawn anyway and figured he'd put the money to good use.

It was a good hike to get there, so he had some time to think. And sometimes that wasn't a good thing. His mind liked to conjure up things that never existed, then make him believe in those said things. He tried telling his father once, but he didn't explain it very well. He wrote better than he spoke anyway.

He followed along the Dakota River, not wanting to get lost in the Heartlands. It was easy to be distracted by the beauty of things, nature...other people. He figured staying close to the water was a good way to lose track if a quick getaway was needed. As he finally came upon Flatneck Station, he saw a few horses out front and knew one of them belonged to the gang. He directed Bleu toward the station and was careful not to push him, even though he knew he wanted to run.

They all did, especially when they shouldn't. He slowed him down and tied him to the post out front, next to the other horses. He purred and stomped his foot, having a conversation Ethan couldn't understand. He knew the horses made fun of humans, they had to. And if they didn't, they were more loyal than he thought.

He patted Bleu's neck and leapt onto the platform. He could hear some raised voices from inside and one slurred voice. He knew who the slurring belonged to and cursed to himself.

"Fucking Reverend."

He pushed the door open and was immediately greeted by Swanson. An impaired Swanson that is. He looked as if he was in the middle of a high stakes poker game with a few greasy looking fellas.

"Little Morgan!"

He heaved a sigh.

"I took your advice, son. I took your advice."

"Then your God has finally deserted you...and what're you talking about? I didn't give you any advice."

He threw down his cards. "I took your advice. I removed myself from Morpheus' embrace," He stood up and stumbled. "No more shall I sink. I am free, I am free!"

He shook his head. "You don't seem free. You seem drunk."

"Sit down Reverend, we ain't finished!"

"You ain't finished?" Ethan scoffed. "Look at him, he's finished."

"Yeah well none of us forced liquor down his throat, friend. I just wanted him to play."

Ethan leaned against the table. "Firstly, we ain't friends. Don't make no mistake on that subject. Now secondly, he can hardly see, let alone reason. Reasoning ain't never been one of my strong points either...but seeing I do just fine. You wanna step outside or deal with business here?"

"I just want him to finish the game!"

"Why can't we all just get along?" Swanson slurred. "These are good men...Ethan. They're children of God."

He turned to Ethan and was about to say something else, when he stumbled and collapsed on the ground. Ethan stepped back and watched him fall. It probably wasn't the best idea considering he was there to help him, but he was tired of always having to deal with this idiot.

"Oh...well" The other man turned to Ethan. "How's about you play in his place, huh? Now that seems fair."

"Fair?"

"Sure, wanna game?"

Ethan shook his head. "Nah. I ain't got the time."

He turned to see where Swanson got to and when he didn't find him, he began to panic. He started searching the old station, calling out his name. And when he still didn't find him, he grew angry. Every time, every single time!

"Swanson? Where the hell are you?" He looked behind a few crates and came up empty. "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"The Reverend!"

"Oh, I don't know."

"Ah shit!" He waved his hands. "Excuse me, Gentlemen."

He stomped out of the barn and onto the platform. He looked to his left, calling for the Reverend. He looked to his right and called again. He didn't think he'd be stupid enough to go toward the tracks, but there was always a first for everything.

"Reverend Swanson!"

"You lookin' for that drunk feller? A priest or something." A strange man asked.

"Yeah I am."

"Oh yeah, smelly fucker. He went that way." The man pointed behind him.

Swanson was headed toward the tracks. Unbelievable, he thought, unbelievable! This idiot was a waste of space and certainly a waste of his time!

"Thank you."

He hurried off the platform, nearly stumbling down the stairs himself.

"Guy looked kinda crazy, mister."

"You have no idea."

He started running down the dirt road and when he realized how foolish it was, he stopped and keeled over. He decided the best thing was to jump on Bleu and search for him. He wasn't killing himself for the likes of that moron. He knew the whistle his father used and tried his best to mimic it, hoping Bleu would still come for it. And thankfully he did. He came trotting around the corner, snorting and shaking his head.

"Thank you boy." He hoisted himself up in the saddle.

He trotted him down the dirt road, still minding his gait, not wanting any harm to befall on the horse on his watch. That would be the end for him. He sometimes believed his father cared more for animals than people. He suddenly heard some yelling off in the distance and urged Bleu into a gallop. He'd pay the price later, right now he wanted to make sure it wasn't Swanson. But of course, as he feared, it was.

A shepherd had him in a choke hold and had no plans of letting him go. Ethan rode over and jumped off Bleu, tossing the reins up on the saddle.

"Hey! Get your hands off of him!"

"I didn't say a word!" Swanson cried.

The shepherd shoved Swanson and turned to Ethan. "You stay out of this boy!"

"Get your hands off of him now, you son of a bitch."

Ethan ran up and cuffed him in the jaw, then offered a left hook. The man stumbled back, barely fazed. For a man his size, Ethan's fists were likened to mosquito bites. But he prevailed. He slammed his fist into his stomach, another right cuff in the jaw, then a second left hook.

The man shoved him and swung his left fist, connecting with his nose, blood spurting out on impact. He stumbled and almost toppled over. It wasn't until the man approached him that he forced himself to stand. He suddenly undid his belt and wrapped it around his right hand, making sure the belt buckle rested on the knuckle.

"Next time you hit me, you better make it count!"

He gave him another right cuff and he fell back, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Ethan shook out his hands and tied his belt back around his waist before lightly touching his nose, wincing at the pain. Definitely broken. He then looked around for Swanson.

"Oh my God! You killed him - I'm gonna get the law on you!"

"Ah...shit, I didn't kill him!"

Ethan ran after the man through the tall grass and lush trees, weaving in and out of grazing sheep. He leapt off the cliff and landed with a roll down the hill. He grunted and groaned, feeling all kinds of aches and pains.

"Come back here!"

He chased the man through some more brush and dry tall grass, going toward another thicket of trees and bushes. He had to get him before he got to the main road.

"You better stop!"

"No - stay away from me!"

Ethan felt his vision going blurry, but pushed himself further. His legs and lungs burned like fire, his hands hurt from the beat down, his arm hurt from the fall, not to mention blood still dripped from his broken nose. All he wanted to do was get Swanson and go back to camp.

Then suddenly, the man stopped and turned, hands raised. "Alright, I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

"You...tell anyone - ANYONE," Ethan paused, panting. "What you saw back there...you're a dead man. Understand me?"

"Yep...I won't tell a soul. I swear!"

"Good. Now get the hell outta here!"

Ethan watched the man turn and run off. He just hoped he didn't go back on his promise, because he didn't really want to add to his list of kills. Killing someone was not on his agenda today and yet...the opportunity always presented itself.

He turned and began his ascent up the hill, when he saw Swanson on the tracks looking down at him. He was so frustrated with the man, he didn't really care anymore. At least if he wound up dead, he wouldn't tell anyone what he knew. Still...it would be on his head if he allowed him to die and it wasn't who he was.

"Reverend! Get off the goddamn tracks!"

When he continued to walk the tracks, Ethan hurried up the hill, cursing under his breath. The stupid fucker had a lot of nerve getting him in all this trouble, when they were supposed to be laying low.

"Reverend!" He yelled.

His vision began going blurry again and he keeled over, panting. He was hurting from all this running, fighting and falling.

"Goddammit...I've had it up to here with you Reverend!"

He stood up and inhaled sharply, filling his aching lungs with the air it so craved. He shielded his eyes with his hand and watched Swanson walk across the bridge, when suddenly, he heard a whistle off in the distance. His heart began to race - the train was coming!

"Fuck!"

He hauled ass up the rest of the hill, careful he didn't slip and fall. The last thing he needed was a broken neck on account of a drunken preacher. When he finally got on the tracks, he ignored his vision going in and out, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and the ache in his chest.

"Come on, friend! It's just a simple mistake. You can...still be...saved!"

He was getting closer to a struggling Swanson, when he saw the smoke of the train coming around the bend. The whistle was getting louder and so was his heart.

"What did you do to your foot?"

"It appears to like this place and wants to stay."

Ethan leaned down and gripped his leg, tugging on the leather boot, trying to dislodge it from the planks. It was wedged in there pretty tight.

"Twist your leg you drunken bastard!"

He obliged and twisted his leg, freeing himself. Ethan yelled and shoved him off the tracks toward the railing, where they both keeled over the side as the train whizzed by them. Ethan could feel just how close they were and it scared him. Thankfully it was a smaller train and it went by quickly.

Ethan took Swanson by the arm and helped him off the tracks. The man stunk to the high heavens and being this close to him didn't help either. When they finally got off the tracks, Swanson turned and swayed on his feet, prepared to walk the bridge again like the fool he was.

"Thank you!"

"Nope, no you don't!" Ethan shoved him.

Swanson collapsed on the ground, just behind Bleu. Ethan stood there, running his hand through his hair. This fucker was going to learn today!

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Swanson stood and turned. "What the hell is wrong with you? Throwing me off the bridge like that!"

"There was a goddamn train you crazy bastard!"

Swanson panted, eyes frantically searching the ground. "Have I been bad again, Mr. Morgan? I'm sorry."

He keeled over and began to sob.

"I...I wish I was different."

"Yeah I do too! You're always causing problems for us. I can't keep saving you, you have to save yourself!"

"I'm trying!" He cried. "I'm just weak is all...I always have been!"

For one split second, Ethan felt bad for the old man. He had a weak mind to allow the drugs and alcohol to control him, but he knew that some people were like that. It was unfortunate. Ethan shook his head and cautiously approached the Reverend. He too, wished the Reverend was different, maybe he would actually like him then? He reluctantly patted his back, hoping it was enough comfort.

"Let's get you home."

"Home...that's a wonderful idea. I can have tea with Margaret."

"Margaret. Who's Margaret?"

"My-"

He collapsed on the ground in a heap of dust and filth. Ethan huffed and stomped over. He knelt, bending with his knees, and hoisted the man over his shoulder. He walked to Bleu and draped him on the back end of the horse, securing him with a rope that was found in the saddlebags.

"I stand corrected. You're a fool."

2 WEEKS LATER

"Hey."

Ethan's eyes shot open and he looked around. It was morning that he could tell, but the sun wasn't up just yet. In fact, the only person awake was Hosea or at least it seemed that way. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, hoping it wasn't too unruly.

"Want some coffee?"

"Love some."

He took the offered cup, taking a much needed sip. He placed it down on the crate as he pulled on his boots. He usually slept in his clothes, which is why they looked so wrinkled all the time. It saved time in case they had to leave in a hurry.

"Mind taking a walk with me?" Hosea asked.

"Sure." Ethan grabbed his hat and coffee.

Both men left the tent and walked off toward the cliff, which overlooked the valley and the rushing river. He would need to take a bath soon, but he wasn't looking forward to the icy temperatures.

"I think we finally got Swanson free of his demons."

Ethan snorted. "Good. I'm tired of chasing them."

"We all are. I told Dutch we weren't doing it anymore, so something had to be done. It was either let him die or help him break it."

"Let's hope he doesn't fall off the wagon."

Hosea chuckled as he sipped his coffee. "I don't think he will. Dutch threatened to shove a bottle of whiskey up his ass if he did."

Ethan shook his head. "I'd take the threat seriously if I were him. Dutch'll do it too."

"Oh I know he will."

There was a comfortable silence between them, as they watched the sun finally crest the horizon. The camp was beginning to awaken now, ready to start the day with breakfast and coffee, though what Pearson was cooking might be enough to kill someone, not start the day.

"So what're your plans for the day, son?"

Ethan shrugged. "Eh, I don't know, I might go into town - few odds and ends I have to take care of."

"Maybe I'll tag along. I'll see if your Pa wants to go too."

"Alright. Let me know, I plan to leave after breakfast."

"Will do."

Hosea tipped his hat and walked off to find Arthur, leaving Ethan to stand near the cliff drinking his coffee and watching the sun rise.