Chapter 1

Gunslinger, Meet Gangster

The train came to a stop with the usual screech and whistles expected of the hulking machines. Calogero peered out his right, through the window beside his seat. Had since he and Ruggero had left from St. Louis a few days ago. He gave a sigh and turned. Patting the back of his left hand into his hulking friend's shoulder.

"Ruggero, come on."

"We're here?"

"Based on the smell, we certainly are. Look out a window every now and again." Calogero smirked and nudged his head up. A silent bid for Ruggero to stand, and the man did. He was and always had been a tower of a man. Had been since the day Calogero had run across him in the east side of Saint Denis. One thing led to another; the two of them a few Italian boys in neighborhoods they weren't wanted in, a scuffle here, a fight there, and a few friends made along the way! But, Ruggero was far more intimidating than Calogero, and he knew that. He was well over six feet tall. His shoulders were broad and box-like. Many years of toiling at the docks with his father had helped keep his arms and legs toned and shaped. Many years of struggle and labor both before and after the two of them had joined this Thing. Ruggero was a shade or so darker than Calogero. Black hair, and deeply brown eyes, though he was clean shaven, unlike Calogero.

Today Ruggero was dressed much in the same as Calogero. Both men wore vests over simple shirts, though Calogero's shirt was white and Ruggero's was red. Both had dark jeans, and gloves on their hands. Ruggero, also had a strap that went over his right shoulder and down his back. Where one could see the pump-action shotgun he more often than not carried for protection.

"Cristo!" Ruggero intoned in Italian. Waving his hand before his face as Calogero led them off the train and onto the wooden station landing. "This place smells like cow shit and goats."

"Yes, that about fits the description I got of it." Calogero smirked over his shoulder. Seeing as Ruggero's face was twisted in disgust. "Valentine. Just another small cattle town in America, my friend."

"In all my years," Ruggero began as they passed into the station and swiftly out of it. "I have never been here."

"You've never stopped here before?"

"I like to take trips north without unnecessary stops, Carlos." Ruggero shrugged as he called Calogero by his preferred nickname. It had been used back in their youth in Saint Denis, and not only by Ruggero. It had grown on him, but he always honored his father's chosen name of Calogero when he could. He was twenty-five now and Ruggero twenty-seven. They'd been friends long enough that Ruggero got away with calling him just about anything! Even those of colloquial sorts.

"I've never stopped here either." Carlos offered with a shrug as the two of them slowly walked off the station and onto the main street. "But, from what my people in St. Louis told me, the wagon we want will be moving south down from the Grizzlies and just north of here."

"That reminds me," Ruggero began from behind Carlos. "You never did tell me what Lucio said to the proposition?" Carlos paused and turned to Ruggero. Both of them stood along the side of the muddy street as a wagon passed them by. The horses whinnying lowly and sputtering air from their nostrils. Nobody paying these, somewhat more finely dressed men, any real mind.

"Lucio didn't say he was against nor for." Carlos sighed.

"What's that mean?" Ruggero wondered cocking a brow even as he fished a pack of cigarettes out of his jean pockets. "I thought you said Lucio had your back?"

"There's double meaning, mio fratello." (My brother) – Carlos tilted his head as Ruggero offered him the pack. Carlos plucked a cigarette as Ruggero lit a match. Lighting the end of his cigarette and taking the first puff before lighting Carlos' to the man's nodding thanks.

"So," Ruggero began with his cigarette still firmly caught between his lips. "What's the double meaning then?"

"Hmm," Carlos took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke upwards. His own brown eyes tilting up as he did in reflective thought. "Well, Lucio doesn't care if anyone makes moves this far south. That's our business."

"And?"

"And," Carlos shrugged and took another draw of the cigarette. "And if word gets up to Chicago or New York and 'business' gets interrupted between any of the families up that way then we could be in trouble. Lots of folk from the old country are emigrating these days. New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Buffalo, Kansas City!"

"Kansas City?" Ruggero sputtered a chuckle. "The hell is in Kansas City?"

"Money to be made."

"Of course." Ruggero chuckled again. Carlos turning and motioning his arm up, prompting them both to move again.

"We keep our heads down. We do what we can to stick to the plan, as it were. We make adjustments as necessary."

"Are you sure you still want go through with this?" Ruggero wondered as he came up beside Carlos' right. "It's been nine years."

"You think I give a shit about how long its been?!"

"No, I'm not saying that." Ruggero raised his hands in submission. "I know, we know. Something must be done. But, like you just said there are moves being made everywhere! Saint Denis ain't the only game in this country. The South is a big place. Friends of ours have settled down from the Atlantic to the Pacific. But, there are places where all they have are yokels. Local dimwitted Americans."

"We are Americans, Ruggero."

"You know what I mean." Ruggero scoffed. "Hillbillies, rednecks...white trash! Whatever you want to call 'em."

"Right." Carlos nodded as they passed a somewhat dilapidated saloon along their right. He tilted his head left. Noting a sheriffs office ahead. A lawman in a tan coat of some kind stood on the stoop. His features about what you'd expect from the local lawmen. A bushy beard over his top lip, and a dark brown hat atop his head. His hands on his buckle as he peered from left to right. The muddy roads turning off to another part of the main street of this little town, and a further going north up into open country after a few houses and a church.

"Anyways," Carlos shook his head and motioned Ruggero to turn with him left up onto a set of stairs belonging to a gun store. "We're still on. Slow and steady though. We don't make any unnecessary loud movements until we are in the best possible position to make them. I want to get in contact with this guy in New York too before I decide on anything."

"You mean that guy uh...Morello?"

"Yeah." Carlos nodded as they left the stoop. Passing a few guys sitting on chairs or on the stoop. None of which paid them any mind. Though a few did cock their brows at Ruggero's shotgun. "He was down in New Austin for a few years. He and his family have made some waves in New York, and I think he's making quite the name for himself." Carlos turned to Ruggero and stopped him as they reached the entrance of the local bank.

"If we can get the clans of New York, Chicago, and a few in the Midwest to okay any such moves then we can do things with a blessing rather than a curse."

"What does that mean?" Ruggero shrugged. A breath of exasperation leaving his lungs. Carlos simply smiled and pat his friend's right shoulder.

"It means I want you to go in and draw out a couple thousand dollars from the shared account." Carlos nudged his head to the bank.

"You think this little shit town has a telegram?"

"Come on, you're not that dumb," Carlos scoffed. "If they need to write up an account for reimbursement, so be it. We'll have the money repaid in no time. Now, if you please."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stand here, smoke, and think."

"Of what?" Ruggero continued to question as Carlos took another drag of his long since depleted cigarette.

"This place looks like it could be full of muscle. Any number of them could be contracted to do the job for us. The less we're seen to be involved in the job the better."

"So, you're going to," Ruggero paused as a woman passed in front of him. He cast her an apologetic smile as she scoffed and moved between the two men. "Uh...so you're going to find muscle just looking out here in the open?"

"Maybe? Maybe not. Maybe I just want to smoke and make you do the heavy lifting?" Carlos smirked.

"Hah! Right...what's new?"

"Run along now, mio buon amico." (My good fellow.) - Carlos chuckled and fished for a cigarette from his own pack. Ruggero sliding his right hand underneath his chin and out towards Carlos. A nice old country way of telling someone you don't care. Though it also had...more informal meanings these days. Carlos simply laughed and turned towards the opposing side of the street.

Taking a few short strides forward and looking out over the muck and mud of the street. A wagon passing by, and a few men up on their horses. The hustle and bustle of this town nicely given atmosphere with the stench of sheep, cows, pigs and the people...mio Dio! (My god!) - He didn't know people out in the country could smell so bad! Though, he kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to draw attention to himself nor to Ruggero.

Carlos continued to stand there and wait. The day was pretty sunny. The air cool but slightly humid. Especially in direct sunlight. Though there did appear to be some gray clouds rolling in from the south. It'd probably be a little while before they hit. He hoped to set up in the hotel before he and Ruggero got caught outside in the mud and rain.

His eyes got caught to the right. For no particular reason really, but he looked all the same. A wagon came in from the main street he and Ruggero had come in on. Driven by a man with an older man sat beside him, and three women in the back. Carlos wasn't sure why he was drawn to them...well at first really. He watched them continue on past. Paying him no mind. He flicked his cigarette free of clinging ash and watched them park up past the general store, and a building being built next to the stables. He couldn't hear what they were saying. Only heard some banter and laughter.

The three women exited off the back of the cart. One a blonde woman, she looked spirited. A shapely and attractive look to her, and rosy cheeks to sport. Seen even from the distance. The second from the trio was a black woman. Not entirely unusual, but still, Carlos thought it odd that a group of whites would be moving so care free with her. Not that he cared. Saint Denis, and his home turf certainly would have though. She was quite attractive as well, however. Slim, her hair put up in some kind of braid. French braid maybe? He didn't know. She was wearing a loud yellow dress down her body with a white collar and hem at the bottom as she followed after the blonde woman. Carlos snickered to himself as he drew in another puff. She'd be right up Ruggero's alley as it were. Though the third woman admittedly caught Carlos' eye more.

She was brunette. Her hair curly down her back and kept up in some manner or another. With some clip Carlos was sure. He didn't know hairstyles like the women of the world. She wore a purple blouse with a white collar and a shawl along her shoulders. With the sunlight he couldn't tell the color, so he ended his long distance quiet appreciation of her by noting the maroon skirt that fell down her body.

"Hmm. This place isn't all bad, I suppose." He chuckled to himself, and took another short drag of the cigarette.

Carlos watched the three women make their way across the street to the more lively saloon of the two that seemed to be in town. He figured that'd be the best place to look for muscle for the job he had in mind. He glanced left. Noting the two men that had brought the women. One of them was younger than the other. Probably thirties? He had on a hat, as every 'cowboy' did 'round here. A light brown jacket and blue undershirt, dark pants and boots. His face had stubble, but not clean shaven. Definitely on its way to being a full fledged beard. While the second older man was the definition of brown layered. Brownish hat, brownish jacket, brownish pants, a scraggly grayed beard on his face as he led the younger man into the general store opposite side of the bank.

"Hmm." Carlos grunted again. Falling into a comfortable silence. Idly patting his blackened head of hair backwards as the midday winds cooled his face...even if it did bring the smell of shit to his nose. He did his best to ignore it.

"Alright! Here we are, just like I said. The cultural center of civilization." Uncle laughed as they came to a stop. Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth quick to begin jumping out the cart. Arthur did so too. "Man at its finest." Uncle finished.

"Uncle, what're we doing?" Arthur asked the old fool.

"Well, we're gonna do what any self-respecting maniac does...put the women to work."

"With pleasure!" Karen scoffed with the hint of a chuckle to her voice. "We'll start at the saloon."

Arthur laughed. "Okay, just stay outta trouble and don't get yourselves noticed." He pointed to the three. All of them flashing mischievous glints or smiles his way. Causing Arthur to shake his head.

"Right I-I need to get something from the stores." Uncle added as the three ladies marched off.

"Okay," Arthur nodded. "Well we'll see you at the General Store when you're done!" He called out to them. The three waving or mumbling that they understood.

"Donate to the poor, sirs?" Both Arthur and Uncle turned to the...well ragged looking man stood at a wooden stall beside whatever it was these folk were constructing.

"What?" Arthur wondered.

"Oh, sorry boy. Don't have nothing on me to donate! All my here money is being donated to myself. Poor bastard that I am. On account of my lumbago and all..." Uncle chuckled and passed the man.

"Oh...right. Well if you have any money please, donate! It-" The man coughed into his wrist. "It...it's for a good cause!"

"Well 'good' ain't much my thing." Arthur scoffed. "And causes? Well, don't see much point in any of 'em." The man looked befuddled by the response. He opened his mouth to say something but Arthur waved him off. Marching after Uncle.

"So that's how you see yourself, is it? A maniac?" Arthur wondered as he tailed the old man.

"Well," Uncle drew out and chuckled. "In my youth, I used to be known as the 'one shot kid!'"

"Okay…" Arthur's face twisted in disinterest. "I'm not gonna ask why."

"Bah...you're a sad man, Arthur Morgan." Uncle smirked over his shoulder. "But, I know you love me."

Arthur restrained an eye-roll. "Desperately." He intoned as he thought up the proper sarcastic remark...and it came easy enough. "You're my favorite parasite." Arthur smirked as they reached the door to the General Store. "No...ringworm's my favorite parasite, you're my second favorite parasite."

"Very funny." Uncle shook his head. But, Arthur raised a hand to stop the old man from going inside just yet.

"I lied," He grinned. "Ringworm, then rats with the plague...then you." Arthur counted out with his hand as Uncle did roll his eyes.

"Shut up...this is the place now. Come on."

"Oh no, I can see it's the place. Just wanted to set the record straight. On account of your place where parasites is concerned."

"Ha ha, I laughed, you satisfied yet, Arthur Morgan?"

"With you? Hardly." Arthur chuckled lowly from his gut as he followed Uncle inside the store. The shelves of which were lined with food, along with other assorted goods and general use items. After all those weeks stuck up on those mountains in the biting cold and snow he did have to admit that finding at least a little bit of civilization to buy food and goods from was a nice bit of reprieve. Simple life was one thing, but having to freeze your ass off in snow while hoping the wind brings deer out to eat? Now that was just a constant pain in the ass...literally at that.

"So, what do you need?" Arthur wondered idly. Busying himself with a nod, greeting the clerk behind the counter. An older man, slightly bearded, a dirty apron down his stomach, but seemed the quiet and amenable sort. Arthur made his way along the shelves and picked up a can of apricots. Turning it over for no particular reason as he did.

"A drop of whiskey for a start. Something to pass the time while we're waiting for the women."

"Whiskey huh?" Arthur scoffed a single chuckling laugh. "You must be the only man alive who don't need food, don't need water, don't need a job or to do any sorta work," Arthur began turning to Uncle. "All you need is whiskey. Hell, your blood must be nothing but whiskey at this point, you drunken fool."

"Oh now that ain't very kind of you Arthur Morgan!" Uncle began with a sputter. "I'm hardly the only drunk you know!"

"Well," Arthur chuckled. "That is true. Though in a fight of drunkenness I dunno. I may put my money on you."

"Not Bill?!" Uncle scoffed and picked up a whiskey bottle.

"Reckon Bill could win. If he didn't kill ya' first."

"Real nice imagination you got up there, Arthur." Uncle waved his hand. "Young people these days." He looked to the clerk. "No respect at all for their elders!"

"Too right, sir."

"Ah now," Arthur looked over shoulder to the clerk. "Don't go giving him any ideas. This man here is a compulsive liar."

"And how exactly could I lie about the young not respecting me?"

"You have to have something to respect in the first place in order to even complain, you fool."

"He really loves me." Uncle cracked a smile to the clerk. Who in kind shook his head at the banter. "Anyways, you're looking a bit tired there, Arthur. Why don't you pickup some coffee while we're here?"

"Aw hell, why not?" Arthur shrugged. Making his way back to the wall.

"Middle shelf there sir. Finest ground coffee this side of the Grizzlies."

"Thank ya', sir." Arthur nodded. Though he had already found it before the clerk had said anything. He grabbed two cans and checked the price. "Hmm." He grunted, for no particular reason.

"Okay, if you're done, I'll meet you outside. I won't be too long." Uncle indicated dismissively as he checked through the assortment of whiskey, gin, rum and all other such flavors of what had to be his bloodstream at this point.

"Right. Just these two then." Arthur plucked the coffee up and showed the clerk.

"Two dollars, sir."

"Here you go." Arthur intoned, handing the clerk two bills. "Hurry on up, Uncle." He prodded as he made for the door and out of it.

"Yeah yeah!" He heard Uncle call after him as he exited the store. The light hit his eyes and he winced silently. Tilting right and finding a nice empty bench to sit on, he took it. Plopping himself down, and idly rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. Feeling a heaviness on the lids he hadn't know to be there till' that moment.

"Shit, guess I am a bit tired." Arthur whispered to himself and leaned into the seat. Taking the moment to idly check the street. Seeing nothing really important. Just people milling about. Fellers and ladies hanging outside of the stores, on stoops or other benches. One man did catch his eye though. A bit darker toned than the others. Not as dark as Javier or for sure not Lenny or Charles. But, he was stood at the bank. He had his arms crossed and didn't seem to be doing nothing. But, he was wearing a nice vest, and undershirt, as well as jeans. Looked like an out-of-towner. Not that Arthur could say he wasn't neither. But, based on what he had seen of Valentine so far, this guy didn't look quite so local. He looked to be Arthur's height, and had a build similar to his own, if younger of course. No pistol to be seen on him though, but Arthur couldn't see his backside, so maybe he had one in his belt? He had a beard, but a short one along his chin, cheeks and mouth, and short dark hair that seemed slicked back. Probably with pomade.

"Another time and place," Arthur intoned. "Probably would've robbed ya'." He chuckled. Thinking the clothes did make this feller stand out a bit. Then again, he could've been anyone. Or no one? Who cares.

Anyways...as he waited for Uncle, Arthur pulled his diary out from his satchel. Deciding to scribble out some of his thoughts. Helped him pass the time. Though his mind did wander as he placed pencil to paper. Blackwater...Jenny, and Davey? Wherever Mac hopefully was along with that little Irish bastard he secretly kinda, sorta, maybe liked, Sean. The goddamn mess with those Pinkertons and the law all the way outta New Austin and into the Grizzlies. The cold hell that was surviving up there in that storm. Marston getting eaten half to hell, and the train robbery. Dutch...well Dutch being Dutch he made a big show of it all.

Surviving and prospering. Even with all that money saved up all them years along with the ferry money! A sack unlike anything any of them could wonder about. Damn well over two-hundred thousand dollars! Spread across the whole camp 'course, but still...now they were all but penniless in country east of anywhere they needed to be. Arthur wanted the gang to be alright. Hell, he wanted Dutch to be alright.

Him and...that vermin he picked up, Micah. They've made fools of the whole lot of 'em, but Arthur knew it weren't all Dutch's fault. He couldn't for the goddamn life of him understand why Dutch took a shine to Micah. His job was why they were stuck this way, why they'd lost those people as fell and were lost. But, he had to trust Dutch would figure a way outta this mess. That the law and Pinkertons would lose interest after a while. Like they always did before...it was...it is just all a goddamn mess. And they needed money. When didn't they? But, this time it was more true than most. Always money.

The door swung open to Arthur's left. He didn't bother turning, but instead gave a small sigh and closed the diary, putting it back in his satchel. Figuring he could finish his thoughts later. Uncle moseyed over and plopped himself down beside Arthur. Well, after he already took a nice long swing of his whiskey. Old fool.

"Here's to your good health, my sir." Uncle offered. Arthur gave a thin smile and nod. Grabbing the bottle and raising it in mock toast before he took a swig. It was nice, though he wasn't sure if he should be drinking with how tired he felt.

"It's a funny world."

"Is it?" Arthur hummed through the lip of the bottle.

"It sure is, Arthur Morgan. Just look at the past few weeks! You tell me the story of how we ended up here in this sheep town, and I'd say you're selling me a load of bullshit, sir."

"Well…" Arthur laughed and passed the bottle back. "I guess you have a point there." Arthur shrugged.

"See, this time in my career I pictured myself being married to an heiress." Uncle began. Though truthfully Arthur didn't pay too much attention. Just another bout of fine old shit slung from one of the finest shit-slingers the world had ever made. Uncle kept going and going. Something about living out in God knows where doing God knows what...Arthur's eyelids were pretty goddamn heavy too…

The door opened behind him, and not for the first time. Again Carlos turned, and this time Ruggero walked out. Counting a small bundle of money in his hands as he moved over towards Carlos. Who in kind raised his arms.

"Cristo, perché ci hai messo così tanto?" (Christ, what took you so long?) - Ruggero scoffed as he counted and recounted the bills.

"These small town idiots. They did have a telegram, but their usual man for it was on a break. Decided it's be easier if they got the money from the account and we didn't need to try and get money back up here."

"How very thoughtful." Carlos scoffed. Though in truth he was grateful. "How much did you pull out?"

"Ah figured you'd want more without needing it, rather than have less and need it. So," Ruggero checked left and right. Folding the bills over and putting them in Carlos' extended right hand. "Pulled out five-thousand."

"A bit much, but...you have a point."

"Figured you'd like to know you're the richest man here." Ruggero smirked and Carlos shook his head laughing.

"Not too difficult to be, stronzo." (Asshole.) - Carlos pat Ruggero's shoulder. Both men turning to face the opposing side of the street.

"Find your muscle by street watching?"

"No." Carlos shrugged. "But, look at this place." He waved one arm ahead of himself nonchalantly. Pocketing the money with the other. "There has to be at least twenty to thirty guns willing and wanting to make a payday."

"You could get it cheap, di sicuro." (For sure.) - Ruggero added and grasped the strap over his right shoulder.

"True." Carlos nodded. "But, I don't want this job going wrong. We need someone who can do what we need, and as they're worth."

"You want I should put up signs?" Ruggero scoffed. "'Need killers or robbers willing to work?'"

"Stai zitto." (Shut up.) - Carlos smacked his teeth. "No, but I don't' want us hiring any drunk fool who claims they're the biggest swinging club. I want someone who has the stuff, you know?"

"How we' figure that out?"

"We watch, we observe. We have a few days, so if we need them, we make use and ask around, if and only if we can't see what we can see before."

"Nice and quiet, huh?" Ruggero intoned.

"Exactly. Nice and quiet." Carlos fished his cigarettes out again. Plucking another and offering one to Ruggero. Though he declined with a wave of his hand.

"How many days we have exactly?"

"I think two to three." Carlos lit a match and brought it to the cigarette as he did. "Mmm," He mumbled and took the first drag. "Our man in St. Louis told me that the wagon train will be heading south through Memphis where it'll cross into Arkansas and head our way. First day will be a quick haul. Next few days they'll slow up. At some point they'll enter the West Elizabeth area. That's where it'll need be hit."

"Preferably." Ruggero shrugged. Carlos mumbled again taking a drag of the cigarette.

"Preferably." He agreed after. The two falling into momentary silence as another wagon with a man and woman passed in front of the bank.

"I think the saloon would be the best spot to look for muscle." Carlos broke the silence, pointing the two fingers gripping the cigarette towards the building in question.

"Figured as much." Ruggero nodded. Though, Carlos glanced his way and noticed his friend's eyes narrow.

"What?" Carlos wondered, but followed where Ruggero was looking. "Hmm." Carlos mumbled as he saw that same woman from before. The black woman that is, being manhandled. She was seething, whispering lowly, but getting louder as a black man in a very tan-colored getup and dark hat yanked her through the street over their way. "That doesn't look very nice." Carlos intoned as both he and Ruggero watched in...well some manner of numb realization that the man was yanking her between the bank and hotel to their collective left.

"Get over here Tilly Jackson!"

"Get you hands off me!" She screamed back. Though not a single person sat on the stoop or stood in front of the hotel did a thing about it.

"Country hospitality." Carlos mocked.

"Hold on a moment." Ruggero grimaced and stomped over towards the side of the bank.

"Yeah, figured as much." Carlos chuckled and followed after him. "Always gotta do something for a pretty face." He said it, but Carlos also didn't much care to see a lady be manhandled as this woman was being. Woman beating? Woman hitting? Not much his style. No respect or honor in it. Now if one was trying to kill you? That's a different story.

"Hey!" Ruggero yanked Carlos from his thoughts as he leaned himself into the side of the bank. "The hell you think you're doin', friend?!" As Ruggero howled the man had already pinned the woman to the hotel wall. Both turned to look at Ruggero and Carlos.

"What's it any business of yours 'friend?'" The man seethed.

"I make it my business when someone throws a lady around like that." Ruggero scowled and yanked the shotgun strap down his shoulder and held the gun in both hands tightly.

"Oh boy, I'd watch myself were I you, friend." Carlos tsked. "My friend here, he's a real hothead."

"Whoa now, take it easy." The black 'gentleman's' tune changed. His hands held up towards Ruggero.

"Just what the hell is going on over here?!" Carlos turned to his right just as the cowboy from before, the one who had driven the women into the town, came over. A mean look in his eye, and a set jaw as he peered around the hulking shoulders Ruggero had at the woman. 'Tilly' her name was, if Carlos heard right…

"Gentlemen." Arthur awoke with a start. Hearing Mary-Beth's voice bring him back from the realm of dreams. Damn, he was tired! "I think I've got something good." She carried on as Arthur jolted himself more fully back awake.

"What...huh? Oh…" Arthur played himself off as best he could. Not that he was too embarrassed. It was just Uncle, and Mary-Beth. Both of whom seemed to ignore him as he rubbed his face, and forced the weariness from himself.

"I snuck into this fancy house; acted like a servant girl, usually works." Mary-Beth went on sounding almost bored at what Arthur quietly thought was a hell of a trick. Risky, but hell if anyone could do it, it was Mary-Beth. "Someone was saying her sister was taking a trip from New York or someplace. Train full of rich tourists, heading to Saint Denis and then cruising of to Brazil!" Mary-Beth sounded practically giddy with excitement at her find. Arthur hummed thoughtfully, though truthfully he weren't too sure what to make of it...just yet.

"Okay." He nodded. To which, Mary-Beth looked baffled by his simple response.

"A train laden with baggage and passing through a bit of deserted country at night!" She explained with an almost 'teacherly' manner. "As to get to docks in time for the tides, in some place called Scarlet Meadows." Arthur scratched his beard as he listened, though Uncle was the one to open his mouth next.

"Yeah, I know it...yeah, yeah it's right out near New Hanover. Right, it's real quiet out there."

"Sounds good." Arthur admitted. "Though, robbing a train so quickly after last weren't exactly what I had in mind."

"Oh come on, Arthur!" Mary-Beth prodded. "It's a good lead! Besides I don't think it has anything to do with Cornwall or whatever his name was."

"Well, there is that." Arthur nodded. His mind racing with thoughts, but he shook them aside as he realized something… "Where's Tilly and Karen?" Arthur pointed aimlessly as Mary-Beth sighed.

"I think at the hotel. They were picking up some drunken fellers that they was gonna rob."

"Why?" Arthur cocked a brow.

"It seemed easy." Mary-Beth shrugged, but began looking around herself. Arthur doing his best not to sigh or shake his head too obviously. "They have been gone for quite a while."

"Dammit." Arthur grumbled. "Well, I guess I'll go see if there's any trouble." He rose to a stand with an idle pat of his hands to his knees. He began walking passed Mary-Beth to the stairs when she pointed.

"Oh, there's Tilly over there…" Arthur turned and followed her pointed arm. "That does not look ideal…" Mary-Beth trailed off as she, Uncle and Arthur watched Tilly get dragged between the bank and hotel. She was yanking herself as best she could, but the feller with her had a good grip it seemed. Not a damn person moved to intervene.

"Excuse me." Arthur growled. Though, just as he jumped to the street and into the mud, he watched as the well dressed feller from before, and a...goddamn mountain of a man both turned off into the same alley where Tilly was. "What the hell?" He growled further. Marching his way over towards this little goddamn forming crowd. As he got near, two fellers on the hotel stoop seemed to not want any part of what was going on in the alley. Both jumping to their feet, well one did, the other just walked off followed by the second. Arthur ignored them. Listening as best he could as he got near.

"...friend here, he's a real hothead." The one from before finished saying something.

"Whoa now, take it easy." Someone else said. His voice deeper and scratchier. Arthur guessed it to be the one handling Tilly. Nonetheless, he stomped up onto the stoop and saw the big and equally well dressed feller pointing a goddamn shotgun at the man! He had half a mind to thank him, but...he still had the business in need of attending.

"Just what the hell is going on over here?!" Arthur demanded as his hand flinched to his holstered revolver.

"She a friend of yours?"

"You're goddamn right!" Arthur snarled as the smaller well dressed stranger asked him.

"Hey," He raised his hands. "No threat or harm intended, cowboy. She was being manhandled by this gentleman. Weren't she Ruggero?"

"She was, but no more." The big feller growled. Hell, Arthur thought he sounded near as angry as him. "You want I should blow his head off?"

"Alright, alright!" The feller with Tilly raised his hands higher. "Look, I'll take my leave. No harm intended."

"Sure there weren't Anthony! You goddamn son of a bitch!" Tilly spat and stomped away from him. Her face bore an expression Arthur couldn't quite place. Embarrassment maybe? Plus anger and fear. At least in her eyes. It made Arthur angrier, it did. Tilly paused on her stomp back towards Arthur.

"I...thank you." She thanked the big guy. He turned to her and nodded once. Clearing his throat as he kept himself fixed on this 'Anthony.'

"You okay, Tilly?"

"Yes, thanks Arthur."

"You want me to-"

"No!" She began louder than expected. "No. Let the fool go." She cast another hateful glare over her shoulder at the man. Still stood like a deer catching sight of the hunter before the shot rang out.

"Go wait with Uncle and Mary-Beth. They're across the street. I'll deal with this. Don't worry." Arthur assured her and pat her shoulder.

"Okay...thanks Arthur." She thanked again and marched away onto the muddy road.

"Very kind of you fellers to step in. But," Arthur moved between them and faced Anthony. "I think the lady wishes for this fool to be set loose."

"Very noble." The smaller one nodded from beside Arthur, leaned against the bank wall. "Ruggero, let this fool go. Last thing we need is to blow his head off in a small town. Least' while everyone's awake that is."

"Right." Ruggero, Arthur now knew the big ones name to be, he pulled his shotgun back, but kept it in his hands. Anthony lowered his hands and back-stepped from the three men. Huffing as he finally turned and walked quickly away from them.

"I ain't gonna do this with her now anyways…" He mumbled something or another as he moved beyond the buildings and soon enough outta sight.

"Well now that that's done…" Arthur intoned to himself. Allowing his hand to relax from his holster. Though, not entirely. Especially with this goddamn mountain and his shotgun. "Who are you fellers, anyways?"

"We, sir?" The one his own height wondered. "We're nobody of particular...uh, significance."

"Uh huh." Arthur nodded. "You know I'd say that's mighty strange. But, I guess you two wouldn't be the only shady men wandering the streets of Valentine."

"Shady eh?" The smaller one smirked. "Well, I sir am Calogero, but everyone calls me Carlos. When I let them." He extended his hand. Gloved in black simple gloves. Arthur hesitated for just a moment, but decided to take it and shake.

"Arthur, Arthur Morgan." He turned to Ruggero as the hulking beast faced him and Carlos. Slinging his shotgun back over his shoulder. "I know your name. Ruggero right? Seeing as you just said it." Arthur pointed to Carlos.

"Right." Ruggero nodded stiffly.

"Don't mind him." Carlos chuckled. "He's got an attitude with anyone who isn't me. Sort of like a bucking horse save for the one rider."

"Oh, I know the type." Arthur offered cordially enough. "Well, anyways…" Arthur trailed looking back up at the hotel to his right. "Thanks for the help with my friend, fellers. But, I have other business in need of attending. 'Scuse me." Arthur tipped his hat, and turned making for the hotel entrance in a hurry.

"Hmm…" Carlos hummed. Taking the final drag of his now second long since depleted cigarette. Tossing the remainder of it after.

"What?" Ruggero questioned.

"That man, Arthur. He had a mean look to him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Carlos nodded. Shrugging as he glanced back at Ruggero. "Maybe he's who we're looking for?"

"You got that just by a look?"

"You see the way he marched over here?" Carlos pressed. "Angry, mean, and ready to fight. A little cagey too."

"We don't know a damn thing about him otherwise."

"Sure." Carlos conceded. "Though, we know he and you share a disposition for helping pretty ladies." Carlos laughed.

"What? You prefer I let her get smacked around?"

"Sai dannatamente bene cosa intendo." (You know damn well what I mean.) - Carlos shot back once more slipping into Italian. "You have your likes I have mine."

"Shut your damn mouth." Ruggero scoffed, but Carlos merely smirked. Seeing the aversion in his friend's eyes. "We going to this saloon or what?" Ruggero pressed. Carlos nodded. Slowly meandering his way back fully onto the bank's stoop where he and Ruggero moved slowly towards the landing down onto the muddy streets.

"We'll go, my friend we'll go. Oh look," Carlos glanced, but did not point. "You have admirers." He chuckled. Causing Ruggero to follow Carlos' gaze. Landing on the General Store where the woman he'd helped, along with another and an older man were stood. All looking at he and Carlos. The woman clearly whispering something to one another.

"Non ti sopporto." (I cannot stand you.) - Ruggero cleared his throat and averted his gaze. Causing Carlos to laugh. The two crossing the street towards the saloon. Carlos catching out the corner of his eye Arthur and the blonde woman from before...looking a bit worse for wear, crossing back over to the main group.

"Hold on a second." Carlos intoned. Pausing he and Ruggero. Carlos dared take a few steps closer and leaned himself against the saloon's; also apparently called Smithfields, closest support beam to the General Store. Arthur was talking to his companions before…

"Weren't you in Blackwater a few weeks back?" Carlos glanced at some stranger in a suit on a horse. Eyeing and calling to Arthur.

"Me? No, sir." Arthur replied. Looking uncomfortable. "Ain't from there."

"Oh. You were." The man pressed. A bit too comfortable with accusing a man of anything, Carlos thought at least. "Well, I definitely saw you. With a bunch of fellers."

"Me? No. Impossible" Arthur continued. Seeming more and more agitated as the stranger pushed his luck.

"Sembra interessante." (Sounds interesting.) - Carlos intoned.

"Listen, buddy. Come here for a minute." Arthur began menacing closer to the man.

"I saw you…"

"Come here!"

"Come on, get!" The stranger reared and turned his horse. Beginning to race away upon it.

"I don't like this." The older man with the women said.

"Me neither. Go get the girls home. I'm gonna go have a word with our friend." Arthur mounted a horse...one Carlos knew wasn't his.

"Be careful, Arthur." The girl, Tilly replied.

"Just a word." Arthur announced, and with a 'hyah,' he took off after the stranger.

"Hey, that's my horse!"

"Just borrowing it!" Arthur called back as a man came running into the street. Coming to a defeated stop. Raising his arms out.

"Gotta say," Ruggero offered from behind Carlos. "He does seem versatile."

"For sure." Carlos nodded. Turning and ignoring the group Arthur had been with, even if he did have a much closer and nicer view of the brunette. "You hear what the stranger said?"

"What part?"

"Blackwater."

"What about it?" Ruggero shrugged.

"A few weeks back, something went down in that little shit-hole." Carlos scoffed. "Made newspaper headlines from here to St. Louis." Carlos pondered tapping a finger to his chin.

"So? What do you want to do about it?"

"Do?" Carlos scoffed again. "We won't do anything. But, we will keep any eye out for our new friend."

"We hardly know the guy."

"Yes, Ruggero, I am well aware. It's an expression." Carlos waved Ruggero off. "Come on, let's see what else this place has to offer. In the saloon, my friend."

"Okay." Ruggero shrugged.

"However," Carlos cleared his throat as he pushed the swinging door open. Ignoring the smell of drunkenness, and the hollers of gamblers, drunks, and many a lady of some kind of repute. "When we next have a chance. I want you to go to the train station. Use their telegram service, and send a letter to Mendoza."

"For?"

"Anything and everything on all this Blackwater business."

"Okay, you got it." Ruggero nodded absently. The two of them moving deeper into the saloon to the far end of the bar. Ignoring the two dark toned gentlemen and the ladies they were clearly coaxing as they did.

L's Note: Well, the author of these stories, Lord Exar Kun, just could NOT help himself. This story has been cooking in his head for some time, and I am posting its first chapter. A few notes:

1.) The map of RDR2 will be slightly modified, but nothing anyone need be concerned with. Just note that Saint Denis is the size of New Orleans as it was in real life 1899. That Lemoyne IS Louisiana, but imagine that the Mississippi didn't empty out into the Gulf of Mexico where it does in our world. Rather on the far western side which has created the Lannahechee River. As such what would be New Orleans was built and became Saint Denis. As well New Austin IS Texas, so if a city gets mentioned that is in Texas, I.E Dallas, it's Dallas, New Austin. The rest of the areas/states from the game are far too small with no real cities to justify them being the whole states. As such they are considered either unincorporated territories in the US still being absorbed as counties or so on and so forth. However, the rest of the US is as it is normally. Which means Saint Denis opens out to the ocean and not to a weirdly extended out of place chunk of Mexico. Any other changes that need be made I will explain them as needed when needed!

2.) If anyone is not clear I'll just say it. The story is about essentially Cowboys and Mobsters. I and Lord Kun thought the parts involving Angelo Bronte were great, but somewhat short. So, this story is based on expanding the contact between the two variants of American culture and history. Cowboys and Mobsters. We will see what will be changed from the original story of RDR2!

3.) If you see any gross grammatical errors, let me know and I will fix them ASAP. Please leave a review, and thanks for reading! Updates will be sporadic...fact of life unfortunately!

4.) Apologies for any bad Italian translation! Google translate is our only option! If you have any corrections feel free! I will fix it. :)

-L

Edit Note: Edited/Updated 05/03/2022