If there was anything Rosalie expected to see the next morning, it was not Arthur riding in on Boadicea with a woman saddled behind him.
It was a serene day too. Rosalie sat outside her tent and combed her hair, picking out the knots and tangles with a careful hand before she went with John to rob a stagecoach.
The thick Louisiana heat was not kind to her curls, making them wilder and poofier than usual. Today was what she would consider a bad hair day; truthfully, it was one of those rare days when she wished she were bald. Her hair was irritating her, but it was still what she would consider a decent morning.
Nothing terrible enough to ruin the rest of her day. But… watching Arthur ride into camp with a woman? Nothing prepared her for that.
"Now who… is that?" Dutch asked aloud, standing from where he sat by the fire, poetry book in hand.
"I'll be damned," Hosea hummed, raising a brow as Arthur slid off his horse and held his arms out to guide the woman off Boadicea gently. "The fool brought a woman with him. He brought her here." He said, sharing a look with Dutch.
Susan grimaced and shot a look in Rosalie's direction as if she could already tell what was running through her mind.
Rosalie paused her combing at the sight of them, her blood running cold as he led her over by the hand. She couldn't help it as her eyes narrowed and a sour taste filled her mouth.
Once he was close enough and realized he had everyone's attention, Arthur cleared his throat, gesturing to her with the hand that wasn't intertwined with her fingers.
"Everyone... I'd, uh..." Arthur cleared his throat and tilted his head, hiding his face under his hat as his cheeks turned pink. "I'd like you to meet Mary Gillis. I've been, uh, seein' her for some time, and I thought it was only right to bring her around to meet you all," he said.
John came up beside Rosalie and crossed his arms, regarding the pair with a flat look. He was not impressed.
"So that's where he's been, huh?" John grumbled, casting a sideways glance in Rosalie's direction.
"Seems so," Rosalie said, her eyes running over the woman who had been preoccupying Arthur's time for the past couple of weeks.
Mary raised a hand in a polite wave. "Hello, Arthur's told me a lot about you, but all good things, I promise." She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
Rosalie hated to say it, but the woman was beautiful. She had a delicate look to her, eyes soft and dark brown hair plaited down her back. Mary looked like a woman who would catch the attention of every man she passed on the street, especially with her soft voice and dainty appearance.
There was an awkward lull, but Dutch was determined to break it as he walked over to them, his arms outstretched with a friendly smile.
"Welcome, welcome, Miss Gillis! It is a pleasure to meet you," Dutch took her hand in his and gave it a gentle pat, before turning to look at Arthur. "I can see why she's captivated your attention these last few weeks. You are a fine lady, madam." He complimented.
Mary's face lit up in a furious blush. "Oh, I-I–well thank you, you are very kind." She tilted her head to look at him under his hat. "I'm assuming you're Mr. Van Der Linde? I've heard a lot about you from Arthur."
"All good things I hope?" He replied with a grin.
"Oh yes, all good things, don't you worry," Mary reassured as she smiled at him.
Dutch let go of her hand and began walking over to the campfire, beckoning for her to follow with a wave of his hand. "Come, come! Sit with us! I'd like to get to know you, and I'm sure my friend, Hosea, here does too." He said.
Mary seemed unsure as she looked up to Arthur for guidance. Arthur gave her a small, gentle smile and nodded, guiding her over to the fire. They sat down on a log in front of Dutch and Hosea, Arthur, and Mary sitting very close to one another.
Rosalie didn't even know what to think. It had been easy to hate this person when she hadn't seen her or didn't know who she was. But now that she had a look at her in the flesh, Rosalie was at a loss.
Mary was a beautiful woman, delicate, and with a gentle voice. It made her sick; Mary seemed like an angel, a saintlike woman, while Rosalie felt consumed by greed and envy.
Rosalie couldn't help but feel a surge of disgust with herself, followed by anger.
While she knew it wasn't right, the thoughts of jealousy and anger rang true. Rosalie liked Arthur. Why couldn't he like her too? Why did he have to like Mary? Rosalie wanted to be the one to sit by the fire with him, not Mary. She wanted him to guide her by the hand, not Mary.
John seemed to sense the turmoil in her head. If the narrowness of her eyes wasn't enough, the way her fingers turned paper white around from the tight grip on her comb certainly was. She looked like she would burn holes into Mary's head.
"Did you wanna… go say somethin'?" John asked in a low voice.
Rosalie huffed, throwing her comb in her tent and reaching for her hat. "No."
John blinked as her comb hit the bedroll with a plop from the not-so-gentle landing. It was unusual for her to throw her stuff around, as she treated her possessions with a little too much care sometimes. He knew she was mad.
"Okay…" John said, unsure what he was to say next.
Rosalie closed her tent flaps and brushed her pants off. "We're busy and don't have time to chit-chat. We got a stagecoach to rob." She said matter of factly with her chin held high.
Rosalie marched across the gross toward Blitz. Mary, Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea watched as she swiftly moved past them, not giving the group so much as a 'hi' or a 'goodbye'.
Susan sighed deeply and pressed her fingers to her forehead at Rosalie's attitude, while Dutch only raised a brow. Hosea drank from his beer, not wanting to get involved. Arthur's face contorted into anger, his temper getting the best of him as he shot up from the log.
"You ain't gonna say anythin' to me or Mary?" He called, hand curling into a fist.
Rosalie paused at her horse, glancing over to look at Arthur as John scrambled behind her. Once he reached her side, he crossed his arms and regarded Arthur with a narrowed look, trying to appear more intimidating than he was.
"What do you want me to say?!" Rosalie shouted, snapping back at him harshly as she stood her ground.
She knew she was being too harsh. Mary didn't deserve this treatment, and though Arthur had been getting on her nerves, her attitude was uncalled for. Despite her awareness of this, she couldn't help the red-hot anger coursing through her.
"Arthur… don't worry about it," Mary said in a low voice as she delicately cradled his wrist in an attempt to calm him.
Her innocent act set Rosalie off even more, a pulse of irritation running through her at the sight of his shoulders softening from Mary's touch. She had to resist the urge to shout as she began saddling Blitz.
"No, it's rude, and no one should disrespect you," Arthur said to Mary, before turning his gaze to Rosalie and John. He took a threatening step forward. "Come on and say hello, you bastards! Treat a lady with some respect!"
Rosalie grit her teeth and looked up at him. "I'm a lady too, you bastard! I'm just busy right now. Isn't that what you'd say all the time when you'd run off? That you were busy?" She called back.
John cheered as he threw his fist up. "Yeah, we're gonna go off and do grown man n' woman things!"
Rosalie stuck her foot into the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle. John clambered on behind her, and as soon as he was comfortably seated, she turned the two of them out of camp and kicked Blitz into a trot.
She didn't take the time to glance over her shoulder in Arthur's direction, but she could feel his gaze burning holes in the back of her head.
Not too long after that, the pair found themselves crouched behind a hill on the outskirts of New Orleans. They were hidden near the path the businessman had mentioned, supposedly the safest and fastest route to a city in New Hanover. While he thought Rosalie would share the information with her female friends for safe travels, he was actually playing right into her hands.
Men were so stupid, falling for an innocent bat of her eyelashes.
While she usually would play the role of a damsel in distress, due to her sour mood, she did not feel like getting all pretty and batting her eyelashes. This time, she and John dragged a rather large fallen tree branch into the road. If the coach wanted to get by they would have to stop and move it themselves. That was their time to pounce.
For now, they were just waiting for a stagecoach to come rolling by. They were within a safe distance from the city, so they weren't bound to get caught by any lawmen or patrolling guards.
"So…" began John, his back against the hill as Rosalie peered out overtop the grass, her brown eyes squinted as she watched for any sign of the coach.
"So?" Rosalie asked.
"I know I ain't like that Mary girl because it's why Arthur's been gone," John said, "But why don't you like her? Is it for that same reason?" he asked.
Rosalie gave him a scrutinizing look. "...Why?"
John shrugged, "I dunno. I just… don't make fun of me, alright? It just seems like… I don't know, that you like him or somethin'." He said, trailing off, obviously embarrassed by the conversation.
Rosalie looked at him thoughtfully, wondering how he came to that conclusion. Were her feelings really that obvious? Maybe she needed to give John more credit. That was unless Dutch or Hosea planted that idea in his head.
"Don't worry about it," Rosalie said, deciding that response was better than spilling her feelings to John. It wasn't like he cared anyway. He was a twelve-year-old boy—he probably still thought some girls had cooties.
John rolled his eyes. "Alright. But just know that I don't believe ya'."
Rosalie shot him a glare. "C'mon, really?"
"Really, really." John shrugged and made a noise of exasperation as he threw his hand up. "I mean… come on! I even thought he liked ya' there for a minute. The way he was cleanin' up after your face n' stuff. And how you were dancin'... I may be young, but I ain't stupid." He said.
Now Rosalie was more irritated. Even John thought something was going on between her and Arthur. Not because of her own actions—whether she was tossing looks his way subconsciously or making heart eyes at him without realizing it—but because of Arthur's actions.
So she wasn't crazy?!
Rosalie opened her mouth to respond, but at the sound of horses and wheels running over the rough, dry ground of Lemoyne, she turned her attention over the hill to get a look. John also flipped over from his position of lazing to peak over the hill.
Sure enough, the coach came rolling through the road, before rearing to a stop in front of the fallen tree branch.
The stagecoach was nice. It was black, shiny and had upholstered red velvet seats inside. There was one driver and a rather large couple dressed in fancy clothes. They were bound to have some halfway decent things, especially from the large, fancy chests strapped in the back. Rosalie hoped this would get them a lot of cash.
Sharing a look with John, she pulled Arthur's red bandana over her face as John covered his. The driver threw his hands up, shouting about something as he clambered off the carriage and walked over to the branch. He was a well-dressed man, and she could only imagine the thoughts of disgust running through his head at the task of dragging the branch out of the way.
"You sneak up and knock him out. Once you do, I'll handle the drivers." Rosalie said, nodding toward the driver who was still unaware of them.
John nodded and crept down the hill. She waited out of sight, watching as he moved behind the driver. The man scratched his head, thinking about how to move the branch off to the side without dirtying his clothes.
Before he could do anything, though, John smacked him on the back of the head with his revolver. There was a sickening crunch as the man crumpled, and Rosalie could only hope the man wasn't dead. He probably wasn't… but John hit him just a tad too hard.
Now that the driver was taken care of, it was Roslaie's turn.
Rosalie came over the hill and unholstered her revolver, pointing it at them through the stagecoach windows. "Hey! Give me all the valuables you have on you! Now!" She shouted.
She went to open the coach door, but before she could, the woman slammed it open, the side of the door swinging into her face. Rosalie cried out and she stumbled backward, cradling her cheek.
"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Rosalie gasped, gritting her teeth as she tried to regain her composure. The door hit her hard and made her feel a little off balance.
With a new opportunity at hand, the couple clambered out of the car, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. Tripping over their feet and coattails, their attempt at escape was pitiful; Rosalie couldn't help but wonder if the plump couple had ever run a day in their lives.
"Oh, no you don't!" Rosalie shouted, taking off after them as they both shrieked in an attempt to call for help. She tackled the lady to the ground just as she was trying to climb her way up the hill. Meanwhile, the man was making a better attempt at getting away.
"John, get him!" Rosalie shouted, nodding in the direction of the man who was stumbling over his own feet and shouting something in French.
John laughed and took off after the man, tackling him easily and tying up his hands. Rosalie did the same to the fat woman underneath her, and they both situated them nicely against the stagecoach.
Rosalie sighed and rubbed her cheek. "Damn, that hurt."
John raised a brow at her. "What, the fat lady hit you?" He asked.
Rosalie glared at him. "Yeah, with the damn door." She grumbled, eyeing the stagecoach door.
"Where do you keep most of your cash?" Asked Rosalie, looking down at the couple.
They both shook their heads, eyes wide with fear, and she was worried she was going to have to smack one of them to get them to talk, but when the woman started muttering what sounded like prayers in French, Rosalie groaned and threw her hand up.
"Man, they don't even speak English." She said in exasperation.
"What, don't you know French?" Asked John.
Rosalie gave him a bewildered look as she walked to the back of the stagecoach to start digging through the couple's things herself. "I know German, John. German and French are not the same thing. My Momma was French, but I don't know the language."
John shrugged as he followed after her. "I dunno. It ain't English and that's all that matters to me."
John and Rosalie found a decent amount of jewelry, cash, and fine clothes. Rosalie would have liked to keep some of the women's things for herself if she hadn't been so plump. Not that she thought there was anything wrong with being plump—it just meant you had access to plenty of nice foods and sweets. Probably was a nice life. She saw it for herself at her grandfather's garden party. If she were rich like that, she would probably be fat too.
After they got their score, though, Rosalie took herself and John back to camp. When they arrived, Arthur and Mary were gone, only Susan and Hosea in camp. Dutch was off meeting with someone about a job.
Rosalie sat by the fire and looked at herself in the small mirror they shared with camp, grimacing at the sight of the discolored yellow patch on her lower jaw. Hosea sat across from her, nose in his book as John ruffled through the things they got from the robbery.
"Man… this looks so ugly," Rosalie whined, running her fingers over the outline of the door. It was in a perfect line from it swinging into her face.
"It does look ugly," agreed Susan as she walked over, arms folded over her chest. "You know, if you hung out in camp and helped me with the work, you wouldn't ugly up your face like that." She chided.
"Wow, you're so kind to me," Rosalie said in a deadpan voice, glaring up at the woman. "That makes me really wanna stay here n' help."
"It would be nice, is all. You're a lady and ladies should do ladies' work." Susan said sourly. "I know you refuse to dress like one, but you are a lady."
"A lady, huh…" Rosalie's face twisted.
Arthur had called Mary a lady too. He told Rosalie she needed to treat Mary like a lady as if Rosalie also wasn't a lady. The sudden thought made her angry. Arthur didn't even see her as a woman, did he?
Susan seemed to see this anger on her face, as she let out a deep sigh. "I know you didn't wanna see that Mary girl. I don't like her either, but you don't gotta throw a tantrum if he brings her by again. It was not a nice look on you, miss." She scolded.
Rosalie looked up at her. "You didn't like Mary?" She asked in surprise, ignoring the part about her throwing a tantrum.
Whatever Susan wanted to say, she did not throw a tantrum.
Susan scoffed. "No. Arthur marrying a gentle woman like that? I don't know. I ain't known him long, but he is rough around the edges. I get the feelin' she's gonna ask him to leave the life on the road and settle down with her. That boy… I don't think he can settle down. He's gotta be free, and Mary ain't the kind of lady to let her man be free. She's a pretty thing, I'll give her that." She said.
Rosalie looked up at her with a pondering expression.
Would Arthur leave life on the road to settle down? After her conversation with Isabella about marriage the other day, Rosalie concluded that settling down wasn't for her. At least not anytime soon. Mary, though, had captivated Arthur's entire being from the moment they arrived in New Orleans. While Rosalie decided that life probably wasn't for her, would Arthur think the same?
Hosea sighed, looking up from his book. "If Arthur does decide to leave, then he needs to stay with her. He can't marry that girl and then run with us. I tried that with Bessie and it didn't work." He leaned back with a deep sigh.
John looked up with a pitiful stare. "You really think Arthur would leave?" He asked.
Hosea patted him on the shoulder. "We'll see, son. We'll see."
Rosalie went to see Annie after that. The little girl was ecstatic to see her, and Rosalie was delighted to know she was improving quickly with her English. Rosalie was proud of her and glad to know that her efforts were helping the girl. Annie played with the other children and seemed to be getting along better, even socializing with Eloise.
Additionally, Rosalie's German was almost fluent again. It seemed like part of her had rejected anything to do with the German language after the passing of her father, but now she wanted to polish and use the language as much as possible. It was part of her father's memory, how he would say random things in German or swear in it when someone pissed him off.
She missed him dearly and was glad to know the day they would find the O'Driscoll brothers was closing in fast.
On her way back from seeing Annie, Rosalie made her way downtown toward the Spanish district to see Isabella. On her way there, she was distracted by the surprising sight of George and Louis. The two men noticed Rosalie too, stopping to greet her as she rode up on Blitz.
"Hey, you two. Where are you headed…?" Rosalie asked, looking at the pair in confusion. She glanced down the street, wondering why they were so close to the Spanish district. She was confused especially by her cousin Louis, as their grandfather hated the Spanish. Why was he down here?
Loius, his hair blonde as ever and brushed neatly on his head, cleared his throat, looking off to the side. "I uh… um…" He scratched his cheek, having no explanation to give her as his cheeks turned red.
George grinned and pulled Loius into his side, patting him on the shoulder. "Louis and I were just taking a walk! We had some business downtown and decided to go for a stroll." He said.
Rosalie looked between the two of them, her hands wrung around the reins. "Uh huh…" She said slowly.
Rosalie didn't believe them for a second. It was obvious they were up to something they did not want her to know about, but once again, she wouldn't pry. All things would come in good faith, it seemed. If she wanted to keep her business to herself, she would like it if others left her alone too.
"I was actually thinking about you, so it's a wonderful coincidence that you ran into us," George said, his arm still thrown around Loius' shoulder. He gave him a pat on the arm and a light shove down the street. "Why don't you head on that walk by uh… yourself? Might be nice for you to get some uh… alone time, yeah?"
Louis cleared his throat with a nod. He rubbed the side of his neck as he glanced from George to Rosalie, backing away a few paces. "Alright then… I… I will meet you at the house later." He nodded at Rosalie, before turning and continuing down the street.
Rosalie watched him walk away, before glancing back down to George with a raised brow. George only smiled at her innocently, but it was obvious enough to her that his lips would remain sealed.
"I won't ask," Rosalie said plainly.
"Then I won't answer," George replied with a grin.
George was still a strange man, unlike any other she had met in her life. He was humorous and cheeky, yet also a member of high society who seemed willing to give her the time of day. While that could have been because he knew she belonged to the Montgomery family, she didn't think that was the case.
"Would you like to go to the city park with me? It's wonderful, and since you liked the gardens so much, I'm sure you'll enjoy a walk through there." George said.
Rosalie thought about it for a moment. She had been meaning to visit Isabella today, but she was sure the girl had other work to do. Rosalie had only seen her the day before, so if there was some time before their next meeting, it wasn't the end of the world. She wanted to tell her about meeting Mary and how mad she had been at Arthur… but that could wait. For now.
A walk through the city park didn't seem too bad anyhow. Maybe it would help put her in better spirits. Seeing Annie definitely helped, but maybe spending time with George was what she needed. He always seemed to make her laugh anyhow.
"Okay, that sounds nice." Rosalie agreed. "Wanna hop on and I'll take us there?"
George grimaced at the thought of sitting in the saddle behind Rosalie once again. It was a demeaning position for a man to be in, but she remained completely oblivious to his dismay. She only looked down at him expectantly, waiting for his response. A beat of silence passed. Then, just as before, he gave a great sigh before putting his foot in the stirrup and sliding into the saddle behind her.
George pointed her in the direction of the park. Once they arrived, Rosalie hitched Blitz to a nearby post and gave him an affectionate rub on the neck. Blitz snorted in appreciation.
Turning away from the horse, George offered his arm to Rosalie again, just as the first time they walked through the gardens at the Montgomery manor. Sheepishly, Rosalie looped her arm through his, careful not to get his crisp white dress shirt dirty. He wouldn't care if she did, but the thought made her reel in embarrassment.
The two began their walk through the park, passing through a tall, open iron gate. Iron fencing lined the perimeter, containing the lush vegetation inside the designated area.
They walked underneath the shade of towering oak trees, their shoes clicking against the cobblestone path. It was beautiful, squirrels skirting across the bright green grass and up tree trunks. Moss hung from some of the branches in long strands like tresses of hair. Rosalie had never seen anything like it, as trees from up North were usually Pine or Evergreen.
"It's nice here," Rosalie said, breaking the easy silence between them as they walked.
"It is," George agreed. "My mother used to take me on walks here when I was a boy. I loved to watch the birds in the water and even tried to chase after them. She'd hate how close I'd get to the water. I think she was afraid I'd get eaten by a gator as she'd always run after me screaming. Improper for a lady of her caliber, but she had her hands full with me." He laughed, thinking back on the memory.
Rosalie looked over at him with a raised brow. "It seems like you were a problem child."
He only laughed. "I was. I gave her a hard time, I know that." He trailed off, a look of faraway sadness in his eyes.
It was one Rosalie recognized in herself—the glossed-over look of pain as he thought about his loss, filled with longing. She hadn't asked him directly if his mother was still alive, but from the way he spoke about her in the past tense and reminisced, it didn't take much for her to assume she was dead.
"You talk about your mother a lot," Rosalie said finally, coming to a stop underneath a large willow tree, the moss dangling from its long limbs. She placed a kind hand on his arm as she faced him. "She sounds like a fine woman."
George's gaze dropped to the hand on his arm. His mouth twisted, as though he wanted to say something, but thought better of it as he patted her hand, eyes flicking to meet hers. "...She was." He said gently.
His brows furrowed, focus narrowing in on her cheek. He raised his hand to gently run his thumb over the bruising on her face. She winced instinctively. His touch wasn't harsh, but it was still painful.
"...You're hurt," George said. He tilted his head, a look of amusement flicking across his face. "...You know, it looked like you had a healing bruise at the garden party too. Do you get beat up often?" He asked.
Rosalie blinked, her lips parting. She was in shock from the gentle touch, his hand still cradling her cheek.
"Uhm… well, only sometimes. But when I do, it seems I always get hit in the face," She said with a light laugh, trying to play off the embarrassment flooding her.
Rosalie's gaze flicked to the side, his deep green stare too intense for her. She cleared her throat. "Maybe they wanna ugly me up… or something…" She trailed off, the heat in her cheeks unbearable. It felt like her face was on fire.
George smiled. "Well, even with the bruise, I don't think you're ugly."
His words were not helping her aflame face. He could probably feel the heat in her cheeks through his palm.
"You don't mean that." Was all Rosalie could think to say.
George's grin widened. "No, I do. You're quite beautiful, you know. For a wild gunslinger."
Rosalie scoffed and swatted away his hand playfully, shooting him a glare. "I am not a gunslinger!" She cried, grateful for the out he had given her from the intimate moment.
George only laughed and held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. If you say so."
Rosalie didn't understand this man. He held her face gently, called her beautiful, and wanted to spend time alone with her. While he might have asked this time to distract her from whatever Loius was up to, it was still bizarre, as he could have made an excuse to go do something else. And yet, he was still here displaying no intentions of running off.
"So, you and Loius. Are you close?" Rosalie asked, quick to change the subject.
George nodded. "Oh, yes. He and I have been friends since we were boys. Though I was usually the one to get into trouble while he begged me to just be a sitting duck. He's a good man. Always got his nose stuck in a book or off dreaming about something else." He shrugged. "But he's my best friend. It's helpful, as we'll be business partners when he takes over the Montgomery Tobacco business."
Rosalie hadn't spoken to her male cousin much at all. But he seemed decent enough, as he came to her rescue when Julie's friends were mouthing off at the party. She was to see her grandfather in a few days anyway, so she was sure to see them there.
"I know you probably resent Julie for her behavior at the party, but I wouldn't take it too hard," George said, as though he could read her mind. "She's a good girl too. I think she's just insecure, and from what Loius has told me, she puts a lot of pressure on herself to be perfect. Eleanor, their mother, is obsessed with appearances. Louis loves her, but their relationship is complicated." George smiled. "But that's not really my place to tell."
"I haven't seen them interact much," Rosalie said truthfully. "I was interested to learn about my Momma's family, but to be honest, they don't feel much like my family. They seem like strangers who are… I don't know… strangers who are a bit more than strangers. When I think of family, I only see my Daddy and Uncle." She said.
"I don't blame you. I would think the same. Especially if it seems as though you have nothing in common with them." George said. "But I'm sure out of anyone, you and Loius would get along. You remind me of him sometimes. It's kind of funny."
Rosalie raised a brow. "You're just saying that."
George shook his head with a grin. "No, I mean it. Both of you get all red in the face when you're embarrassed. It's hilarious." He teased.
Rosalie gasped, and couldn't help herself as she swatted him on the shoulder. "I do not!" She cried, horrified at the thought. He had paid attention to that?!
George laughed in response and rubbed his arm. "You asked what similarities you had, and I told you! Don't make me your punching bag!" He cried, a large grin spread across his lips.
His laughter only increased in volume as her cheeks turned bright red again. She crossed her arms and hmphed.
They had known each other for only two weeks now, but even so, he noticed these seemingly insignificant details about her. It was oddly endearing, even if it was also embarrassing. George Langley was a peculiar man, but she liked spending time with him.