Rosalie had a rough night. She caught barely a wink of sleep, tossing and turning in her bedroll as a sweaty mess from the nightmares that haunted her. Images of fires roaring high, the sound of her father's coughs, and the smell of iron from his blood. These scenes of that horrible night were overwhelming, dragging her away from any hope of getting proper sleep. After she had decided she wasn't going to get any rest and that lying there was futile, she forced herself to dress in her black button-down and black pants, grabbing her father's hat before exiting her tent.

The early morning sun had barely risen over their campsite, just peeking over the hills. The clearing was still dark, the sounds of the birds just beginning to chirp as they awoke.

Rosalie sighed, glad to see that no one was awake yet. It was quiet, snores coming from Dutch and Hosea's respective tents.

While the conversation last night around the fire was nice, she didn't feel like talking much after the night she had. Endless tossing and turning left her with a terrible headache, a heaviness in her eyes as trudged across the clearing toward the waterfront at the edge of the campsite.

Rosalie sighed as she reached the beach. She set her hat down on the ground beside her and rolled her black shirt up to her elbows. Gathering water in her hands, she splashed the cold liquid against her face, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake herself up.

The water was nice against her skin. It was doing a fine job of making her feel more awake, but it would have been nice to get actual sleep in place of the wild tossing and turning she dealt with last night. The night sweats and dried tear tracks on her face this morning led her to think there were more nightmares than she remembered.

Rosalie rubbed a hand against her brow bone, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to ignore the heaviness in her heart.

She missed her father so much. She would do anything to talk to him. She would be fine with having a conversation about anything, really. Even one concerning something stupid or menial; just a friendly conversation.

Maybe they would talk about the waterfront. How calm it looked just before the sun rose, birds barely making any sounds, as even nature hadn't fully risen for the day yet. She and her father were both early risers, something she came to cherish as she got older. Her father wasn't much of a hunter, but he would tell Rosalie stories of how he and her uncle Kurt would go fishing as boys. They would get up to lots of mischief, Kurt usually coming up with diabolical plans that would get them in trouble with their mother.

Uncle Kurt would still be snoring deep into the morning, though. No chance would he be awake to comment on the beauty of the early morning. But Rosalie cherished the alone time she got with her father.

Or the alone time she used to have with him.

Her heart clenched in her chest, the grief constricting her insides. It was physically painful to think about the loss of her father and uncle. It was still hard to fathom that her family members were murdered in cold blood by someone pissed off by a poker game. The entire situation felt like a sick joke.

She hoped Dutch would stay true to his promise about giving the O'Driscolls what they deserved.

Rosalie heard footsteps from behind, pulling her out of her thoughts. Still squatted on the beach, she looked over her shoulder to see Arthur approaching her with two tin cups. She hadn't spoken to Arthur much, so to see him approaching her was a surprise.

"Mornin'." Arthur greeted, his boots crunching the river rock and sand at the waterfront as he came to stand beside her.

He wore blue jeans and a dark yellow button-up, pants pulled over his black boots. His gunbelt was strapped to his waist, revolver holstered there. His pants were dirty and probably hadn't been washed for days, but his yellow shirt was clean enough, only the bottom covered in dirt, most likely from him wiping his hands off.

"Good morning," replied Rosalie. "You're up early."

"As are you, Miss." He chipped back, looking down at her under the brim of his hat.

Rosalie snorted. He got her there.

"Ah, well, I just wasn't expecting anyone else to be awake is all," Rosalie said, standing to her full height. She bent down and grabbed her father's hat, placing it on her head. She nodded her head at the beverages he held. "What are those?"

He acted almost spooked by her pointing out the tin cups, steam rising from the brim. He spoke sheepishly. "Ah, I uh–I almost forgot. I thought uh—well, since ya' were up early, I thought ya' maybe would want some coffee. Ya' do drink coffee, don' ya'?

Rosalie couldn't help the small smile that pulled at her lips. It was oddly thoughtful of him to brew her coffee and bring it over. She was surprised he noticed she was awake at all, as she thought she was being awfully quiet when she woke up this morning. He seemed very attentive.

"I do." She replied as she took the tin cup from him. Lifting the brim to her nose, she breathed the rich smell, a gentle sigh leaving her lips. "Thank you, Arthur. This is… very thoughtful of you."

Arthur tipped his chin down, the brim of his hat shielding her from seeing his expression. The tips of his ears turned red. "Ain't a problem, Miss. Jus' thought ya' might like some since it's so early."

Rosalie blew on the coffee as she held it with both hands. She and Arthur stood by the waterfront in silence. The warm tin cup was comforting between her cold hands. It was a cool spring morning, so the warm drink was appreciated.

"So, stealing a wagon…?" Offered Rosale, taking a sip from the warm coffee. "You seemed pretty confident last night about taking on the task. Can't say I feel as eager."

Arthur seemed to sour at this, remembering how Dutch had indirectly made fun of him the night before for his overzealousness. "Yeah. Ain't the first time I've stolen one. Dutch jus' likes to poke fun is all. You'll be fine. It ain't hard."

Rosalie couldn't help but chuckle at his sour expression. He looked like a frustrated child who had been told no by a parent.

It seemed as though the three men had a close relationship with each other, but Arthur was the youngest out of the trio, placing him at the bottom of the totem pole when it came to calling the shots. While she wasn't certain she understood fully how these men functioned with one another, she could tell that Hosea had a parental influence over Arthur at the least. Dutch seemed to act as an older brother to Arthur. But she still didn't know the dynamic all that well.

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Rosalie looked at him inquisitively as she took another sip.

"Twenty. You?"

"Nineteen."

They were about the same age then. It was different, as Rosalie had barely interacted with anyone her age before. She had spent her life surrounded by adults. She had no siblings, cousins, or friends for that matter, as she hadn't gone to school. Rosalie's father had taught her to read, and her uncle had taught her basic mathematics, as he considered himself to be a bit of a scholar. Her Uncle Kurt was wicked intelligent. There was a reason he was the one who drew up most of their schemes.

It was a bit odd to be talking to someone her age. Rosalie had never considered herself to be lonely, as she always had the company of her father and uncle, but she would admit that she was deprived of the ability to make friends and socialize with people her age.

If she continued to travel with this group, maybe she and Arthur would come to be friends. He seemed nice enough, as he had gone out of his way to bring her coffee and have a friendly conversation. While she began the morning sour, the thought of conversing with someone the last thing she wanted, now that she was speaking to him, it wasn't so bad. It was even kind of… nice.

Arthur and Rosalie finished their coffee in silence. It wasn't awkward, and she appreciated the company as she was still dead tired from the restless night. His presence wasn't awful. He didn't chatter mindlessly, and she appreciated that.

The quiet morning didn't last for long. Dutch and Hosea rose not too long after the short conversation with Arthur. The group ate breakfast, then found themselves perched on their horses hidden behind a hill not too far from the dirt path they expected the awaited wagon to pass by.

"So, what's the plan?" Asked Arthur, looking over to Dutch who was saddled on his white horse, reins in hand.

"Hosea and I'll come up and order them to stop. If they don't, which I hope to God they do, then we'll just have to chase 'em down until they listen." Dutch explained.

Hosea snorted. "Wow. What a well-crafted plan you have there, Dutch. I never would have thought of one myself. What would we do without you?."

Rosalie couldn't help the small smile ghosting her features at Hosea's quick quip. He was a funny man. She enjoyed his humor, and it was one of the few things that she felt could pull real joy from her. It was like she was looking at another version of her father when he gave his sarcastic retorts.

Rosalie's heart ached at the thought of her father. Her smile was gone as soon as it was there, replaced by that same sinking feeling of grief in her stomach.

Dutch scoffed and gave his friend an unimpressed look. "You know how these things are! Ya' come up with a plan only for them to pull a gun on you. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll just calmly pull the cart off to the side and let us take it. Who knows."

Arthur shook his head, obviously not thinking that was going to happen for a second. "Not too sure 'bout that. Hasn't before."

"Well, who knows! Maybe we'll get lucky because It's Rosalie's first time stealing a wagon!" Dutch grinned, throwing his hand up as he looked in Rosalie's direction. There was a fire in his eyes as he met her gaze. One of pure excitement. "Are ya' ready?"

The blonde girl blinked at the sudden attention, all three men looking at her. Rosalie felt herself shrink a bit into her saddle, hands gripping the reins.

To them, this was all a fun feat to steal a wagon and make off with it. But Rosalie had never done anything to this caliber. Was she making the right choice, stealing a wagon? What if something happened and they abandoned her, leaving her for dead, or worse, for the law?

No, she needed to focus.

These men spoke as though they had been conning and committing crimes all their lives. No way would they turn to the law. It was against their very nature to do so. Rosalie just needed to have a little faith.

She had been thieving and scheming her entire life too, just like these guys. She led a similar life to them. Stealing a wagon was more than she had ever done… yes… but it was possible. She could do it. All they needed was to boot the driver out and take the reins, just like Arthur said, right?

Determination filled her. She would steal that damn wagon and impress these guys. Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur. She would prove that she could do it so they wouldn't even think about leaving her behind. She needed to make herself seem important, and if she was successful in stealing that wagon, it would do just the trick.

Rosalie gave Dutch a firm nod underneath the brim of her cowboy hat, blonde curls in her eyes. "I'm ready."

Hosea gave a small cheer. "That's what I'm talkin' about! Look at that determination in her eyes there, we need us some of that!"

Arthur shifted in his saddle, casting a look between Dutch, Hosea, and her. She looked at him for a moment, almost detecting… jealousy.

No, she didn't think so. It must have been a trick of the eyes. From what she knew of him so far, which granted wasn't much at all, Arthur didn't seem like the type to be competitive. Besides, he was so nice to her this morning.

"Alright, now keep your eyes peeled. The moment they round that corner, we spring into action," Dutch said as he pulled a pair of binoculars from his bag to watch the road.

The group waited, and before long, Dutch was swiftly tucking his binoculars into his side pouch. He pulled his bandana up to cover his face, Hosea, and Arthur doing the same.

"Here they come." He said, unholstering his revolver.

Rosalie paled as she eyed the bandanas now covering the lower halves of all their faces. "Uh, I don't have one of those?"

"Ah, we almost forgot." Hosea nodded in Arthur's direction. "You have a spare one for her don't ya'?"

With a grumble, Arthur reached into his side bag and pulled out a solid red bandana. He tossed it to her and Rosalie caught it easily. She held it in her hand, looking at it dumbly, wondering why the hell they were only mentioning now that she had to conceal her identity. It made sense, but would they have just let her ride on out there with her face uncovered?

"Go on, tie it around your neck and cover your face. Dutch and I gotta move, you and Arthur back us up if they prove to be difficult!" Hosea called.

His horse took off in a sprint after Dutch, who had already begun his pursuit of the wagon. Dirt kicked up under their horse's hooves, revolvers in both their hands as they neared it.

Not wanting to be difficult or waste any more time, Rosalie swiftly tied Arthur's bandana around her neck. It was soft against her skin, surprisingly well taken care of.

"Thank you." She said to him as she finished knotting it.

Arthur grunted, that friendly boy from this morning seemingly vanishing into thin air. "Jus' pull it 'round your face 'n pay attention."

Rosalie blanched at his harsh reaction, but did as he said, tugging the bandana up so it covered the bottom half of her face. It smelled like gunpowder, a bit of sweat, and sandalwood. Not a horrible smell. It could have been worse.

"You don't need to be so rude," she grumbled, giving him a side-eye. While she didn't know Arthur well, one thing she didn't tolerate was any kind of attitude.

"M' not." Was all he grumbled back.

Rosalie rolled her eyes but turned her attention to the commotion up ahead, leaving Arthur alone. She needed to be ready to get that wagon if Dutch and Hosea had any issues.

"Pull over now!" Shouted Dutch, pointing his revolver at the man driving. His horse thundered beside the racing wagon.

Rosalie squinted, having a hard time seeing what was going on from where they sat on the other side of the hill. Hosea was shouting something at the man driving, but the last thing she heard was Dutch ordering them to pull the wagon to a halt. They were too far away now for her to get the specifics of the scene.

Rosalie glanced over to see Arthur with a pair of binoculars. His lips were pressed into a firm line, brows furrowed in concentration as he watched Dutch and Hosea attempt to get the wagon to stop.

"I can't make out a thing," she said, squinting as they continued further in the distance. "Did they manage to stop them?"

Arthur shook his head and made a noise of displeasure. "No, they didn't. There're three fellas on that wagon, seems like. Dutch yanked one of 'em off the wagon 'cause he pulled a rifle on 'em. I ain't certain if he's the only one armed, though."

There was the sound of a gunshot. Then two more that followed. Someone was firing down there.

"Damn!" Arthur shouted, jerking in reaction to the sight of something he didn't like. Shoving the binoculars into his side bag, he took off in a cloud of dust, calling to Rosalie over his shoulder. "Let's go!"

Not asking any questions, Rosalie dug her heels into Blitz's flank and urged the black stallion towards the commotion up ahead. She leaned forward as she held the reins with a white-knuckled grip, racing to match Arthur's pace.

Arthur glanced over at her in surprise under the brim of his hat at the sound of thundering hooves. He was shocked at how easily Rosalie had caught up with him. Her eyes were narrowed ahead with purpose, blonde curls bouncing under the black cowboy hat on her head.

Cursing himself for getting distracted, he focused his attention back to the wagon Dutch and Hosea were still trying to flag down, their figures mere specks in the distance now.

As they rode closer Rosalie could tell why Arthur had taken off in such a hurry. The gunshot must have spooked Hosea off his horse because he was lying in the dirt, his brown mare stomping in the nearby field.

Dutch had hopped off his saddle to tend to Hosea. He was kneeling on the ground with a hand on Hosea's shoulder, who was hunched over as he tried to catch his breath.

Arthur slowed down beside them, his horse kicking in surprise and letting out frustrated snorts at the sudden stop. Rosalie tugged on Blitz's reins and urged him to a halt beside Arthur.

"I got him, you go!" Shouted Dutch, waving his hand in the direction of the wagon which was getting further away by the second. "Get that thing!"

Hosea heaved and waved them off, and that was all it took for Arthur to dig his heels into his horse and take off in the direction of the wagon. Rosalie didn't wait to be told twice and urged Blitz forward with a loud yip. She took off after Arthur, it proving to be more difficult to match his pace this time. Arthur was racing ahead with an impressive speed, so she resolved to just gallop behind him.

"You got any ideas for how we should get this thing?" Called Rosalie over the sound of the pounding hooves.

"I ain't need no plan!" He called back. "Unless you've got one?!"

Rosalie stared ahead, her heart pounding in her chest and blood thundering in her veins. Adrenaline rushed through her as she held onto Blitz's reins for dear life, the speed of her horse faster than she had ever rode in her life. Even when escaping pursuers she had never raced this fast. It was exhilarating.

"We take it from both sides!" She called. "Circle it so they don't know who to focus on!"

"You figure Dutch n' Hosea ain't already tried that?!" He cried, disbelief in his voice at her proposal.

Arthur and Rosalie neared the wagon. The two men still riding the wagon were visible now, the one not driving peering over the back of the wagon, rifle in hand, and aimed straight for them. A cold feeling ran through her at the sight of the weapon.

"Shit, he's armed!" Shouted Rosalie in warning, but it didn't seem to matter much as a gunshot rang out, whizzing past her.

She let out a sound that sounded like a combination of a gasp and a shriek, pulling Blitz to the side so they missed another gunshot that came far too close for comfort. Her horse squealed in fear but she didn't loosen her hold on the reins.

"Yeah, you reckon?!" Shouted Arthur back, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Rosalie let out a shout of annoyance. "Well, I just thought I should warn ya'! Why don't you do something then?!"

He must have taken her words as a real challenge, as he pulled his revolver from his hip and fired shots at the man. Rosalie couldn't help her mouth falling open at how all four shots he fired had landed in the man's chest. He tumbled out of the wagon and landed in the dirt, his gun falling with him.

"There, I did somethin' 'bout it!" Shouted Arthur, glancing back at her with a smug expression.

Rosalie refused to be one-upped by him. He may have been more experienced than her in stealing a wagon, but there was no reason she couldn't steal one too. There was a first time for everything, right?

"Let's go, boy!" Rosalie urged as she dug her heels into Bliz's sides, the black stallion kicking up the pace. The horse huffed, breathing heavily as it pushed on, determination coursing through her veins as she raced past Arthur and closer to the wagon. He looked at her with a dumbfounded look as she passed, unsure what her plan was.

Rosalie was gonna steal that damn wagon, even if she got scraped up or a little bloody doing so.

She was just within arms reach of the wagon now. If she wanted, she could have thrown herself into the back of it, but there were random goods and supplies tucked back there, so it would have proved to be a nasty landing. She needed to be smarter about how she was to take control of the wagon.

"C'mon!" Rosalie cried, pushing her horse to speed up.

Blitz didn't put up much of a fight, the horse thundering forward to match the pace of the driver. If anything, she would have thought her horse liked the speedy chase. It was more action than he had ever seen before. Rosalie could agree there.

The driver, a middle-aged man dressed in run-down, all-black clothing, looked over at her with fearful, wide eyes under a bowler's hat. He was unarmed with no weapon in sight as he held the reins with both hands. The man could tell he was in trouble the moment he spotted Rosalie, as he cried out and whipped the horses with the reins, trying to get the horses to move faster.

But with the cargo weighing the animals down, Rosalie knew they couldn't get much faster than the pace they were going now. If the man kept whipping the animals like that, they were bound to get frustrated and uncontrollable. She needed to do something before that happened.

Rosalie and the wagon driver were riding side by side now. She pulled the revolver from her waist and pointed it at him. "Stop the wagon!"

The action felt odd as she did not intend to shoot him, but she knew the guy needed something to be intimidated by. There was no way he would pull over otherwise since he seemed to be under the impression he would be able to outrun her even with heavy cargo.

"Hell no!" Shouted the man back, whipping the horses widely with the reins out of fear of being caught.

Rosalie let out a shout of irritation. This guy was not going to pull over so easily, and her horse wouldn't be able to keep up with the wagon for much longer. She needed to act.

She looked between her horse and the thundering wagon. Her heart pounded in her chest, sweat pooling at her hairline.

This was crazy. She was crazy.

"Keep me steady, boy," Rosalie said softly to her horse.

Slowly, Rosalie eased herself out of the saddle. Pulling one foot out of the stirrup, she turned herself so she was facing the wagon, coming into a squat upon her thundering horse. She tremored, clutching onto the front of the saddle with one hand for balance as she raised herself onto her haunches.

With a shout, Rosalie launched herself forward. She cried out as she collided with the wooden side of the wagon, her foot slipping as she lodged it into a protruding wooden plank. With shaky hands, she held onto the side of the wagon for dear life, her horse slowing down to a trot and leaving her alone with the driver. They were still moving at a thundering pace, the wagon rocky as it shook back and forth over the terrain.

Rosalie breathed heavily, her gaze fixed on the ground speeding underneath them. The thought of falling off filled her with dread; she knew all too well that if she tumbled, she'd likely be crushed by a wheel.

The man must have felt her hit the wagon, as he was looking behind him with wild eyes. He was trying to find her, but he couldn't see her because she was plastered to the wagon's side.

Determination filling her, she dragged herself across the side wall of the wagon. She held onto the wood with white knuckles, her hands sweaty. She prayed to whoever above that she wouldn't slip off from her anxiety.

Reaching the front of the cart, she let out a huff as she pulled her revolver from her belt. Swinging herself onto the driver's perch with a grunt, she landed with a firm thud, her arms and legs burning from the exertion.

The driver let out a cry of fear, his eyes darting between Rosalie and the road ahead, desperate not to crash as the horses were wild now, especially against the bumpy terrain and how hard he had been whipping them.

Rosalie slammed the butt of the gun into his face. He cried out and raised his arms to shield himself from getting smacked again.

"Hey, please! Please don't shoot me!" He whined. The fear was evident as he cowered, the nasty man who had refused to stop the first time she asked vanishing. It seemed now that she was here with the gun to his face, he knew any kind of resistance was futile. Especially because he was unarmed.

Rosalie held onto the back of the wagon with one hand, the other clutching the revolver, its barrel pointed at the driver from where she towered beside him. "Then pull this damn thing over!" she demanded, her voice firm.

"Okay! Okay!" The man cried, tugging on the reins.

The horses eased to a stop, stomping and squealing from the highspeed chase they had just endured. Sweat glistened against their flank as they huffed.

With the gun still pointed at him, she nodded to the ground. "Get a move on."

The man didn't move, slowly letting go of the reins with shaky hands. He looked up at her with fearful eyes, skin pale and sweaty.

"I said get down!" Rosalie shouted, kicking at the man's leg.

She had barely kicked him, but the action sent another jolt of fear through the driver as he scrambled out of his seat. He stumbled off the wagon and hit the ground with shaky legs, hands raised above his head.

There was the sound of horses, Arthur, Hosea, and Dutch riding up to where Rosalie stood, gun pointed at the driver.

Hosea was atop his horse but looked pale. The fall must not have been debilitating, but he didn't look the most comfortable as he clutched his side, his face diary and a tad bruised. He still managed an expression of delight at the sight of the wagon pulled off to the side and Rosalie pointing her revolver at the driver.

"Now would ya' look at this!" Shouted Dutch, throwing his hands into the air as he walked over. He tossed an arm around Rosalie's shoulder, giving her a victory shake. "Amazing!"

Rosalie blushed, breathing heavily as the adrenaline began to wear off from the intense chase. "I got the wagon."

Hosea snorted from where he remained on his horse. "Well, now, you didn't just get the wagon. You jumped from your horse to it like a damn maniac. And I thought you said you've never stolen a wagon before?"

"I haven't." She said sheepishly.

It had been a wild move, leaping from her thundering horse to the wagon, especially at the breakneck speeds they were racing at. But she couldn't resist the opportunity. The moment the idea struck her, it seemed like the only way to catch up to the driver. He refused to pull over, so she took matters into her own hands.

Arthur remained quiet, his expression flat and almost... a glare from beneath his hat. It was hard to tell for sure, but he didn't seem as pleased as Hosea and Dutch. His demeanor lacked the enthusiasm and cheerfulness of the others. Though she couldn't say she was surprised, given his earlier show of frustration when they were both in pursuit of the wagon. He didn't seem like the type, but maybe he did have a competitive edge to him.

"Yeah," Arthur muttered, dismounting from his horse to walk over to the back of the wagon for a closer look. "Nice job."

Rosalie frowned as she watched him disappear around the back of the wagon.

While the friendly competition was nice, she didn't want there to be any issues between her and Arthur. It's not like she was aiming to steal the spotlight from him... she just wanted to prove herself to not only Dutch and Hosea but also to Arthur. She wanted to show she was capable of keeping up with them.

Arthur's current demeanor was far from the friendly boy who had brought her coffee that morning, Rosalie couldn't shake the nagging feeling of confusion. She only hoped she hadn't destroyed any hope of a friendship with her daring stunt.