Ethan and Lenny watched the early afternoon pass by, after finishing all their chores. They weren't children by any means, but they did act it sometimes. And it was only right seeing as they still were.

"Watch this." Lenny taunted with a swaggering grin.

He started the game slowly, bouncing the knife in between his fingers, growing faster and faster - his smirk growing wider.

Ethan barked a laugh. "You're gonna cut your fingers off, man!"

"Oh, you think so?"

Tilly sighed. "Oh God, look a those fools–"

Mary-Beth giggled.

"Ladies." Lenny greeted.

"You're pretty good, there Len."

"Course I am." He boasted, his pulse racing a bit.

Ethan snickered as he took in all the cuts on Lenny's fingers. He was good, just a little sloppy at times.

"You're pretty good too, ya know?"

"Maybe, but I was never really good at this game."

After his turn, Lenny held out his knife. "Here."

Ethan was cautious as he retrieved it.

And as expected, his pace was slow and careful, worried he may stab himself. He already knew what it was like to get stabbed, so he didn't need to add to it.

"Mhgh, see? I'm awful–" Ethan complained as he stabbed himself.

"You're just like your dad."

"Yeah, how so?"

"You just stabbed yourself and barely flinched."

Ethan laughed as he pulled his hand away. "I reckon the apple don't fall too far from the tree."

"Oh, what have you done?" Miss Grimshaw questioned from behind.

"Miss Grimshaw, just the person I was looking for–" He spun around holding his hand. "My hand is a little uh, injured."

"When are you two going to grow up? Good grief." She scolded.

Lenny and Ethan laughed and made up some lame excuse as to why they would never grow up, but Miss Grimshaw didn't appreciate their lackadaisical behavior, nor did she understand it. She came from a serious line of women, who didn't take life for granted. And the men in their lives were equally as hardworking.

"How on earth could someone like you two be so idiotic?" She questioned, snatching Ethan's hand.

Ethan winced. "Oh we were just playing - ouch, that burns!"

"Good….leave those games for people like Mr. Williamson or Mr. Bell."

Ethan heaved a sigh as he watched her dress his wounds. He noticed just over her shoulder, someone sauntering back into camp, who he quickly recognized as John.

"There," She grabbed his ear. "Now try not to do anything else stupid. You're better than that."

"Ouch, ouch - I'll do it!" Ethan breathed a laugh.

With an anxious stride, John made a B-line towards him and Lenny. He looked focused and serious, like he had something on his mind. And knowing John it must've been big, since he barely had a mind left after those wolves.

"Hey there Johnny," Ethan greeted. "Did you get the wagon?"

"Yeah, I dropped it off near the old trail rise. Y'know what I'm talking about?"

"Yeah I think so," Ethan replied, rising from his seat. "That's right on the border with Lemoyne, ain't it?"

"Right on the border," John nodded. "From there it's a direct path to the tracks–"

"Heh, I see you're finally workin' that brain of yours."

"Yeah, 'bout as much as you–" John motioned to his fingers.

"Oh I'm fine - just a game gone wrong," Ethan shrugged. "I'll get ready and head out soon."

"Take your time, I got some shit to do here."

Ethan nodded as he grabbed his hat. "You know, I was thinking maybe we could enlist someone else to help?"

John hesitated momentarily, trying to find a reason why it would be a bad idea, but there wasn't one; they needed all the help they could get.

"You got someone in mind?" He asked.

"Charles–" Ethan replied. "I mean, he's a good shot–"

"Yeah, better than Bill," John snickered. "All right, sounds good. I'll talk to him and see you over there."

"All right."

The young cowboy slung his rifle over his shoulder, and grabbed some extra ammo from under his cot. On his way over to Gray, he stopped at the supply wagon and loaded up. He walked off to where Gray was grazing with the other horses, and began saddling him up.

He snorted a few times, stomped his foot, but was otherwise in a good mood today.

"Hey Ethan."

Ethan turned. "Oh, hey Mary-Beth."

"Where are you headed off to?" She asked.

"Uhh, me and John are gonna hit that train in Scarlett Meadows."

Mary-Beth grew worried; she folded her arms in an attempt to to make herself feel better.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…well," She shrugged. "I don't know…don't you think it sounds dangerous?"

"Maybe…but I think we can do it. You think we shouldn't?"

"No, It's not that," Mary-Beth quickly denied. "I just have a bad feeling about it. Just promise me you'll come back safely?"

Ethan smiled. "I promise."

Mary-Beth took a step forward and surprised the young degenerate with a kiss. She stepped back before he could reciprocate the gesture; standing with her hands folded in front of her, and a blush tinting her cheeks.

"I'll be waiting for you."

He tipped his hat. "I'm looking forward to it."

Well Ethan had a reason to stay safe now, not that he didn't already before, but a woman waiting for him was better than any reason he had before. As dusk quickly approached, Ethan pulled up to the old trail rise; a cabin left to ruin. A little further up, he could see the wagon they would use for the heist.

He didn't expect to see a familiar face. Sean. He was using empty whiskey bottles for target practice, which apparently was desperately needed, seeing as he didn't hit a single bottle. And with each miss, a slew of curses fell from his lips.

"What're you doing here?"

Sean turned at once, a bit startled. "Jesus Christ, you scared me Etan."

He turned and popped off a round, which hit the rickety old fence instead.

"Close–"

"Shut up," Sean huffed. "Come on, take a shot. Take your best shot."

"All right."

Ethan stepped up and drew his revolver. Even though he sustained a few cuts earlier, he was able to push past the stinging and burning. He aimed and fired, shattering a whiskey bottle. He twirled his gun before holstering it at his side.

"Uh, listen young Etan, Let me come with you's–" Sean pleaded.

Ethan raised a brow. "Did John tell you about the heist?"

"Don't be playing coy with me, it's very unbecoming–" Sean scolded. "You're gonna need guns and you're gonna need men."

"I know," He heaved a sigh. "But it's not my deal, it's John's. And besides, I already told him that Charles might be coming–"

"Oh, and what about me? Am I not a good choice?"

Ethan laughed. "Well…it'd be the same as bringing Micah."

"Compare me to that oily turd again, and you're a dead man!" Sean threatened.

"Fine by me!"

"What's your problem with me?" Sean asked. "Know what, don't tell me; I already know. You're threatened by me."

"Oh, really?" Ethan said.

"Yeah, my youthful vigor intimidates ya," He taunted. "It's a story as old as the hills. The changing of the guard...the fading of the light. You're toast–"

"You're older than me, dumbass–" Ethan reminded. "But okay, and what are you?"

"I'm the future, in all its glory."

"Good with luck then," Ethan scratched the side of his face. "Talk to John when he gets here."

As the sun sunk down below the horizon, the sounds of night came alive; crickets, owls, the wind…it all made for a spooky evening. Down the road on the old trail rise, John and Charles appeared from behind a few trees. Ethan turned and kicked Sean's boot, waking him up from a quick slumber.

"What are you doing here?" John demanded.

"Well I'm comin' too, dumbass."

"I said you weren't coming!" He reiterated.

"Yeah well, young Etan says I am," Sean insisted. "It's his party too, so come on, let's go - me and the big cheeses love it. Can't wait to slit some bastard's throat."

John shook his head as he walked over to Ethan, who was checking over the wagon and the horses.

"Hey, you sure about this?"

"Not really," Ethan admitted with a shrug. "But you said we needed more guns, so–"

He shook his head, still unsure of the whole arrangement. "Yeah, train's due soon, best get goin'."

"Sounds good," Ethan slung his rifle over his shoulder. "Ready Charles?"

"I'm ready." He replied.

"Alright, let's go get some money!" Ethan exclaimed.

He climbed up in the wagon beside John, while Sean and Charles hung off the back. It really wasn't safe, but there wasn't any other place for them to be.

"Hey, are all the horses untethered?" Charles asked.

"I think so." John replied.

"That's good, they should follow behind us then."

"Did you find a spot?" Ethan asked.

"Yeah," John nodded. "Just follow the trail southwest - there's a spot that's remote enough, but it should still give 'em enough time to see us and stop."

"Yeah, they won't have a choice."

John cleared his throat. "Apparently, the train picks up guards at the state line, so there shouldn't be much else in the way."

"See, this is what I mean," Sean huffed. "I disappear for a couple of weeks and you cut me out of all the action."

John snorted. "Just the action that requires a brain!"

"You're a funny feller, John Marston. From what folks say, you've had your feet up the whole time playing sick, and fondling that new scar like you're gonna buy it breakfast in the morning."

"Turn left here, towards Rhodes," John instructed. "You don't know what you're talking about Sean, now shut up!"

"Wouldn't want you getting scratched by a squirrel or something, that could put you outta commission for the rest of the year."

"Why do you have to speak so much?" Charles questioned. "It's...unnecessary."

"'Cause I've still got some blood in my veins! You old bastards have forgotten how to live."

John turned and glared at Ethan. "I blame you for rescuing him–"

He smirked. "Heh, he was too much trouble for what we got out of it."

"Yeah, it takes a whole army of bounty hunters to bring in Sean Macguire," He boasted proudly. "And look at me now, in the gunner's seat. Back in business, boys! You know my da' always used to say–"

"No more stories, please!" John snapped.

Charles grabbed his head. "Not again–"

"Fine! Damn, you three!" Sean cursed. "Sulky, Angry, Scar Face; a right barrel of laughs. So we block the tracks with the wagon, then jump 'em? That's the plan?"

"Pretty much," Ethan nodded. "Charles, you'll deal with the engineer."

"Yeah, don't worry."

"Hey, where's your Pa by the way?" John asked. "I saw him leave camp this morning–"

"He went to collect a debt for Herr Strauss. I was supposed to do it, but he decided to go in my place. He should be back by now."

John scoffed. "Must be nice to have a daddy that does your dirty work."

"Yeah and I'm thankful for it." Ethan retorted.

"Right here is good," John pointed out, as they approached the tracks. "Stop the wagon here."

When the wagon stopped, Sean and Charles jumped down and walked into the thicket of trees to find their trusty steeds. Ethan grabbed his rifle and climbed atop of the wagon, on top of the oil drum and cocked the gun.

"Remember, these are innocent folks," John reminded. "We handle this right and no one needs to die."

"As it should be–" Ethan agreed. "All right, Marston, Charles, Sean….when she slows, board her."

"And you?" Sean asked.

"I'm gonna make sure she slows–"

"It's do or die with you Morgan's, ain't it?"

Ethan clicked his tongue. "Get moving, here she comes–"

The rumble of the train barrelling down the tracks, interrupted the nightly concert nature performed. The spotlight was so bright it was blinding and her whistle was so loud it sent a chill up and down his spine. As the train approached the bend, the light began shimmering through the trees, creating a beautiful, yet spooky, canvas. He raised his rifle, even though he knew it would do nothing to stop 500 tons of steel. And once the train finally came around the bend, she began to slow.

Ethan guessed the sight of an oil rig on the tracks was enough to scare the conductor into stopping. The brakes squealed and hot steam burst from the engine. It was obvious trains couldn't stop on a dime, so Ethan was glad she was going slow enough that she wouldn't derail.

"What's going on here?" The engineer demanded. "What's going on?"

Charles appeared out of the darkness and with the butt of his rifle, he knocked the guy unconscious.

"Is he alright?" Ethan asked.

"Yes, he's fine."

"Good. I'm boarding now."

Ethan advanced over the side, touching the train guard from behind.

"Hey!" The man shouted.

Sean served a blow to his face, then turned to Ethan. "All yours."

"Good shot–" Ethan praised. "Now look for the baggage car."

Ethan climbed up the three metal steps to the passenger car, where a dozen or so well-dressed people watched in fear, as the young cowboy stalked down the aisle. John entered from behind, wearing a bag over his head and waving his gun around.

"Y'all stay calm and nobody'll get shot!" He warned. "Let's go - everything you got; money, valuables!"

John began to pass his bag around, and most of the passengers were cooperative, except a few who tried to play hero.

"Let's make this quick! We ain't leaving 'til this bag's full!"

"I ain't got nothing!" A young man and woman insisted.

"You wanna have a little chat with Romeo and Juliet here?"

Ethan grabbed the man from behind, and pulled his collar until he was choking.

"Give it up or your face is gonna be black and blue."

Ethan really didn't want to hit him, but if it came down to it, he would.

"Just give it to him Thomas, please!" The beautiful woman pleaded.

He released his collar and the man gasped for air, as he clutched his neck. "Okay, okay."

And with shaky hands, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold pocket watch, then dropped it into the bag.

"Come on! In the bag, everything you got. Keep it coming, don't be shy!"

"People like you make me sick." An older man sneered.

"These two seem to think we're playing games!"

"Sick is better than dead–" Ethan warned. "I'm losing my Goddamn patience!"

"Let's just do what he says." A younger woman whispered.

After collecting from the first car, Ethan and John continued to the next, where they ran into some trouble; two men trying to play hero. One man came out of nowhere and snaked an arm around Ethan's neck, as the other knocked John to his knees. It didn't take long before Ethan was figuring a way out of the weak stronghold and knocking the man out cold. Ethan was ready to help John, when he saw the other man topple over.

"I can handle this from here." John said. "You should go check on Sean."

"Good idea."

The young man walked through to the last passenger car, where the colored and lower class usually sat. They were already poor so Ethan didn't see anything they had worth taking, since it was all they had. As Ethan made his way to the next car, he saw Sean off to his right.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I found the baggage car. I was just waitin' on you, young Etan."

He heaved a sigh. "What were you waiting for? Jesus Christ."

"There's probably something or someone in there. I need the backup."

The door suddenly opened and out came a guard, who immediately hit Sean over the head. It didn't knock him out, as much as it made him stumble. Ethan didn't waste time, he aimed and shot the guard, who fell over the side of the train. Ethan took cover behind some crates. When Sean came to, he shook his head like an old dog and reached for his gun that he'd dropped.

"You stay here!"

"No you need backup–" He shook his head, dizzy from the blow. "I'm just seein' double so stay outta my way."

"Your odds of hitting someone just got better." Ethan teased.

As he backed up, he saw a guard on top of the train car. The man didn't see him, so he used it to his advantage. He quietly aimed, cocked his revolver, then fired, hitting the man in the back of his head.

"Ugh, I'm gonna have a lump on my head tomorrow!" Sean shouted, as he shot his pistol.

"Well at least you ain't got a hole in it!" Ethan exclaimed.

As gunfire ceased for a moment and silence surrounded them, they both jumped to the open cars and began searching the crates.

"Are those tennis rackets in there?" Sean questioned in astonishment. "Posh bastards."

"Just keep your eyes peeled."

"I'm doing my best, alright? I got double vision, so technically, I have double the eyes."

Ethan shook his head. "I know, that's what's worrying me."

"Hey c'mon, we should get outta here–" Sean whispered.

"Just a minute."

Ethan began looking through some drawers and found a few things, but nothing of particular interest.

"We need to go," Sean urged. "Hey Etan, we got a problem. There's two on horses."

"How many you say?"

"I just saw a pair of them."

Ethan peered out of the boxcar and spotted John and Charles behind some crates.

'We might be fightin', get ready." John rasped.

The pair of Lawmen appeared, with only their bright white hats somehow glowing in the dark.

"You men come off the train right now, do you hear?"

"We told you men to come out now!" The other demanded.

"There's only two of you fools, we got a whole lot less to lose, so why don't you just ride away? That way neither of you get killed! Goddamn liberties." John mumbled.

"There's more of them!" Sean pointed just over the hill.

"You and your big mouth!" Ethan snapped.

"Let's deal with 'em."

"Last chance! Drop your weapons and get off the train!" They called.

Ethan stood, twirled his gun, aimed and fired, all before anyone knew what happened. The man on the horse stilled and then slowly fell backwards onto the ground.

"More coming through the trees! You see 'em?" Sean shouted.

"Be quick, so we can make a run for it!" Charles yelled over the gunfire.

"Behind us! More bastards riding in!" John exclaimed.

The situation turned from a simple heist into a full blown shootout, between the alleged bad guys and the alleged good guys. John and Ethan took the riders out one by one, with a bullet in the head, then drug their bodies into the woods and set their horses free. The shootout turned into pure carnage as the Lawmen's shots ricocheted off the train; the only shield between life and death for the outlaws.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!" Charles yelled.

"C'mon boys, let's get the hell out of here!" John shouted, jumping off the train.

Ethan and the others followed John to the horses, who were through the woods a bit, near a small creek.

"Let's ride!"

The remaining lawmen attempted a pursuit, but they were severely outnumbered. They retreated and the gang found themselves safe for a time, but it wouldn't last and they all knew it.

"Wait, wait!" John pleaded, exasperated.

His co-conspirators quickly slowed their mounts to a stop and turned to John.

"Everyone okay?" Ethan asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Charles announced.

"Well that was real fun!" Sean exclaimed. "I can see why they call you the professionals of the outfit."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Shut up!"

"At least we made some money," Sean smirked. "And what did I get? Gotta be a hundred dollars here, very nice."

"You weren't even invited."

"What now?" John asked, tone as stoic as his face.

"We still need a really big take, enough for us to get out of here, but it's a good start," Ethan glanced over at John. "Hey–"

"You think it was a setup?" John questioned. "Law turned up real fast."

"I don't think so…but I really don't know."

"Think they're from Blackwater?" Charles asked.

Ethan swallowed thickly. "I think it was just local law–"

John shook his head. "I think I'm gonna head into Valentine soon, see if I can get something started."

"Good idea. We should probably split up too." Ethan suggested.

Sean barked a laugh. "Of course, boss man."

The men separated and Ethan was suddenly alone, in the middle of the night, bathed in moonlight. He couldn't help thinking about all that transpired and how very wrong it could've gone. As Gray evened out into a steady canter, Mary-Beth's voice suddenly came to mind and he found himself smiling.

—

June 5, 1899

Last night I accompanied John, Charles and Sean on a heist that John planned. The idea was brilliant, and I have to admit John excelled this time. Sometimes I find it funny when Pa jokes that John is stupid, which I've seen firsthand, but I guess the wolves didn't eat his brain completely.

It was a train heist, and we used an oil rig on the track to stop it. And boy did she ever. We entered the train cars to rob the rich. Then we got to the third train car, the one that the poor and the colors use and I couldn't help thinking about a pocket watch I took; it could feed them for a week, if not a Goddamn month!

Despicable.

Pa came back while we were gone. He says the debt collecting went as expected. I don't know what he means by that, but I guess it was what I could expect.

I really hate Strauss.

After putting my share of the loot in the donation box, I realized that I had quite a bit of money leftover. I'm thinking of taking Mary-Beth into town on a date. I could probably buy her something nice too. I'm sure a dress will be pretty expensive, at least a nice one.

Yesterday, Mary-Beth was worried about this heist, and I think she was right. It was like a premonition of some sorts - I think that's what they call it. But one does have to wonder how they knew we'd be there ? Makes no sense to me.

E.M

—

ARTHUR'S POV

A few hours prior

For Arthur, the little trip along the river was a perfect way to clear his mind. That thing in Strawberry got him angry; the whole town was against them. And it was clear he wouldn't be able to set foot in the small town until everything had calmed down, but maybe he could slip the authorities some money to make it….go away?

By noon, Arthur finally found the Downes farm situated in the valley. It was a nice spread, but the house wasn't much to speak for. It was a little nicer than a shack, and yet, it was still a shack. The aging gunslinger observed the place and the farmer outside in his garden. For Arthur, doing this was a new low, but the money was very helpful. And he had to keep reminding himself of that. He did wonder why Strauss didn't do this himself?

After all, he was the one handing out the money, he should be the one demanding it back. The farmer worked his small piece of land at a slow, exhausted pace, as if just a couple of hours of work under the sun was too much for him. And maybe it was or maybe he was just an old man? Arthur got off his horse and marched toward the man, taking a drag off his cigarette, before tossing it. The farmer took notice of the gunslinger and stood up, white knuckling the rake in his hands.

"You!" The farmer called out. "What do you want?"

"Mr. Thomas Downes–" Arthur addressed, gripping his gun belt.

"Yeah that's me."

"You owe me money."

If it was possible, Thomas Downes turned three shades whiter than he already was. He backed up, holding up his rake.

"Oh no-no, I'm…I'm–"

Thomas Downes began to shake and tremble, as he stared at the big burly man before him, hoping that he could find it within him to be intimidating….he was not.

"Come here you maggot!"

"Please, sir…I'm…ill–"

Arthur advanced the man as calmly as possible. The man swung the rake hoping to hit Arthur, but the aging gunslinger was quicker; he gripped the rake and tossed it to the ground, then clocked the farmer in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.

He clenched his jaw. "Really? Threaten me, would you dare?"

"Please…I have a family, sir…please!" He pleaded.

"I don't care about you or your family!"

Arthur punched the man again and again, while he tried to crawl away in a poor attempt to save himself.

There was a swift kick to the ribs. "Your debts have caught up to you, mister!"

"I'm working, please!" Thomas cried. "I'm working as hard as I can!"

"Why'd it have to come to this, huh?" Arthur growled, pinning the man to the fence.

Downes looked like a rag doll as he took hit after hit, unable to defend himself.

"You ain't such a do-gooder if you ain't payin' up, are you?"

"I'm not running, I swear!" Thomas panted. "I'm doing my best, I plan to pay!"

Arthur was disgusted by the man and tossed him to the ground.

"How's that debt looking now?" Arthur asked. "You borrowed money from my business partner and you ain't paid him back!"

Arthur offered another blow to Thomas Downes stomach, then knelt down in front of him."You owe him - you took the money and he wants it back. What's not to understand?" That farmer, now bruised and battered, coughed up a large amount of blood and spat it in Arthur's face.

He reared back and wiped the blood from his face. "Where's our money?"

"I-I don't have it–"

"Sell your house then!"

"We already owe more than it's worth!" He cried.

"Then sell your wife, or your family, or something!" Arthur yelled. "We ain't your idea of charity. Is that clear?"

Arthur grabbed him one last time and threw him against the fence. Thomas Downes clutched his chest and began coughing violently; he fell to the ground gasping for air. The scene was pathetic and painful, but Arthur had neither the time nor the desire to care.

"Thomas!" A woman shrieked.

"What are you looking at?"

"Thomas!" The woman cried, kneeling down before her husband.

"I said what you looking at, woman?"

"My husband isn't well," She looked up. "If we could just have more–"

Arthur sighed as he stomped over to his horse. "Like I said, we ain't nobody's idea of charity. Get us the money!"

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, then back. The situation had completely undermined his patience. Given the man's refusal and their lack of money, he preferred to leave and return at another time. A part of him did feel bad for the man, but he couldn't let that affect his job.

Following the path around the muddy town of Valentine, Arthur arrived back at camp just after sunset. The atmosphere was a lot calmer than when he left. The smell of something cooking wafted through the air and perforated his nostrils. And having not eaten anything decent in a few hours, it actually smelled good.

"Strauss." Arthur greeted.

He looked up from his book. "Mister Morgan, what do you need?"

"I went to collect that debt you asked my son to do–"

"Ah, and how did you get on?" He asked.

"Not so good. He's almost dead now, and they seem more or less destitute–" Arthur huffed. "You were a fool for lending them money."

"Well, people who aren't desperate don't seem so interested in my propositions," Strauss explained. "If you can, I would like you to go back on another day to try to collect the debt. If you are not here, perhaps I should ask your son to–"

"I'll do it. He doesn't need to go there."

As he walked away, he continued wiping the blood from his face; a sticky substance that always took some time to clean.

"Hey Arthur," Mary-Beth approached. "You're dirty."

"I reckon I am," He breathed a laugh. "Uh, do you know where Ethan went?"

"I think he's doing a job with John and Charles–"

"I see."

"They're doing a train heist over in Scarlett Meadows." Mary-Beth interrupted.

"Well, I reckon there's not much to worry about now," Arthur shrugged. "Guess they'll be back soon."