A/N: Fuck not having a computer/laptop. But hey! Once the semester starts back up I can use the computers at the college and type whatever I want without my fucking nosy ass little brother and mom trying to look.

Sex after the second line break. Skip to the third line break if you want to not read that part.

After beating up a drunkard, wild goose chasing a runaway Sam, freeing slaves that are apparently still a thing in 1899, retrieving a cross, and running from the police, to say that Arthur was exhausted was an understatement. Luckily, Sam and Arthur didn't have to wander around for long before they found a hotel littered with employees wearing the red bandanas at least somewhere on their body. As soon as Sam spoke about what a "discouraged man" he was, they were given a room, which was cheap, and free food.

The floor they were on was pretty high up. Sam finished his dinner first and was on the balcony, taking in the view of the city. He squinted and huffed when he looked up.

Nightfall was here, but Sam could barely make out a single star in the sky. He wondered for a moment as to why. Was this city so bad that even the great cosmos did want to see it? His uncle said something about the many lights in a city, but Sam didn't believe that until he saw it for himself at this very moment.

Arthur soon joined Sam on the balcony. He had two bottles of brandies and let Sam have one. He didn't get to drink these often, seeing as they were more expensive than whiskey, but Sam thought to indulge himself since Arthur was offering.

Arthur didn't know how Sam was going to react. He seemed distraught after his last encounter with the Downes family. His depression wasn't as bad as Lily's, but considering that he left an injury unattended, maybe he was in just as much pain as Lily was. He just handled it in a different unhealthy way.

Well, that's just men in a nutshell… If it wasn't for Sam, Arthur probably would've just drank himself stupid after Sean's death and punched a few people bloody. Sam's uncle sounded a little strange, but Arthur couldn't say he was bad for making his home somewhere safe to show his true emotions.

"You need to know something," said Arthur.

Sam was leaning against the balcony's railing. He turned to him.

"What is it?" Sam asked as Arthur joined him.

"While I was getting that cross back for that nun friend of yours, I ran into Mrs. Downes."

Sam brows furrowed. "What?!" His voice sharpened, his eyes were wild like a beast. He thought he made himself clear, but on the other hand, he didn't think he'd end up all the way in Lemoyne. It's just the next state over, but after hearing Arthur and Dutch, he thought they'd be heading west at some point.

"She didn't… She was… She asked if I wanted some company and she was wearing makeup," Arthur responded.

Sam's jaw dropped. "Was she… asking if you wanted-"

Arthur nodded. "Yup."

Sam stepped back a little. He looked to the floor, the street below them, the lights, and the buildings. Honestly, Arthur wasn't sure how to react, either, and Edith shooed him away before he could come up with a reaction. He never really ran into people after collecting money from them.

"That's…" Sam started. Slowly, he raised his head, looking at Arthur's face once more. Then his angry expression faded, and he started almost grinning ear to ear. "Hilarious!"

Arthur just stared and stepped back as Sam bent over the balcony's railing erupting in laughter. His jaw dropped. He grabbed his shirt, so Sam wouldn't fall over. Then, Sam got up only to laugh even more as he stepped away from the edge.

"Sam!" Arthur snapped.

Sam was holding his sides, trying to stand up straight. "How… How did she ask you?" he muttered between giggles. "Did she wink? Did-Did she put her hands on your-"

"This ain't funny, Sam!"

It took a while, but Sam managed to calm himself down. He wiped some tears from his eyes. "Come on, it's a little funny," he said, slowly standing back up. "That bitch got what she had coming." For some reason that sentence hit hard for Arthur. "Especially after her whole 'better than you' talk while Lily and I had to bury our uncle." Sam stifled an oncoming giggling fit, but covered his mouth. "Oh, and Archie?" The thought made him grin, his teeth showing.

"Sam!"

"What?" Sam shrugged, stepping away from the railing. "After how they've treated me and Lily, they deserve it!"

Arthur sighed, and ran his hands through his long hair. "So, what are you going to do?"

Sam tilted his head and thought for a moment. Then, he stood up straight once more and shook his head. "I say Lily and I do nothing." He walked back to rejoin Arthur at the edge of the balcony. "As long as they stay out of my way, I'll stay out of theirs." He could feel Arthur's eyes on him, still. "A doctor helps people, but they have no injuries as far as I know and we ain't exactly saints." With that he looked the outlaw in the eyes. "And… I never should've claimed to be leagues better than you."

Arthur smiled back at him. "Well, you're right about that," he said, patting Sam on the back. "But you are better than me."

Sam shook his head. "Nuh-uh! You didn't poison and torture a deputy."

"You wasn't about to beat a sick man."

"That could change!"

"Nah." Arthur patted Sam's back. "You don't have to think to do good."

"I don't think when I do bad, either," Sam said, flatly.

"Yes, you do," said Arthur. "You had a code, even before you met Dutch."

"I steal."

"I kill."

"Me too!"

"I've done it longer."

"Well, I've done it faster." He started walking up to Arthur, as if he could stare him down, despite being shorter and scrawnier than him. Arthur stayed where he was, despite how closer they were standing next to one another.

"I robbed three banks in a day with Hosea and Dutch," said Arthur. "The only reason we stopped after that was because I hit my head jumping off my horse."

Sam just grinned. "That just proves how clumsy you are."

"And what about you?" said Arthur. "You ran off while we were in the middle of something."

"Well, I guess running in the middle of a job was bad, as well." Sam grinned, his teeth showing with the mischievous smile, pink tinting the sides of his face. "What are you going to do about it… outlaw?"

Sam yelped as he was thrown onto the bed. Even though he was furious the first time, he was now thrilled having his hands tied and bound and being manhandled onto their hotel bed, shirtless, his mouth gagged with his own handkerchief.

Playfully, he squirmed under Arthur's grasp, but he pushed him back down, hands on his shoulders. Then Arthur forced Sam's arms above his head. He couldn't see what he did, but they were now bound to the headboard. He wouldn't be able to stop whatever Arthur wanted to do and the thought sent shivers down to his groin.

Arthur pulled the gag off momentarily and they kissed, his calloused, dangerous hands explored his exposed torso. Sam could do nothing but moan and buck his hips, back arching as thumbs ran over his nipples, pressing down and hands feeling his chest like they were a fine set of breasts. The rope dug into his skin as Sam struggled, wanting to touch Arthur's hair and more, but he was tied up pretty good. When Arthur's tongue brushed his lips, he let him into his mouth.

"You gonna run now?" Arthur muttered, pulled away for a moment.

"Fuck you," Sam said, his body trembling.

Arthur chuckled and tied the bandana back on, gagging the younger man. "That's my line."

Sam whined, trying to say something, but nothing audible came out. He closed his eyes, face burning as he felt Arthur undoing his pants, pulling them and his boots off his legs. He heard the sound of a cap popping off of a tin, his leg was lifted over the outlaw's shoulder and he felt something cold at his entrance.

Sam sucked in a breath. Arthur rubbed the thigh in his grip.

"Breath, boy," Arthur commanded, his voice firm but caring.

Sam exhaled and leaned his head back, his cock hard and twitching as he felt Arthur's thick fingers enter him. He was red, and having his body on full display was only making it more intense.

It didn't matter after a moment, because after they brushed that special spot, he saw stars and squirmed, his hips moving, aching to keep those digits inside as they withdrew, only to thrust back in. Sam's fingers curled in their bonds, the ropes burning so good.

Arthur grinned as Sam came undone before him. It was one of the only ways to shut Sam's little trap and make him a mess. And God, he loved it! Sam's eyes were half open, his face blushing. He put in a third finger and saw his eyes roll back as he let out an obscene moan. It was almost high pitched like a woman's. He was tied to the bed, unable to do anything but take it. After adding the fourth finger, Sam was almost in tears. Then Arthur pulled them out just as it seemed the younger man was about to scream and Sam whined.

Sam looked at Arthur and saw that he was undoing his own shirt and pants. They dropped onto the floor, before he climbed back onto the bed. Sam tried to speak once more. Even though it was muffled, Arthur knew what he was asking.

"Yes, I'm ready," Arthur answered. He grinned as Sam tried to say the same thing with the gag in his mouth.

Sam looked upwards at the ceiling, as Arthur opened that tin again and poured more of that pomade on his hands. He was already hard, so it was easy to put it on himself.

Sam had been waiting for this. His body was covered in nerves, but he felt Arthur's hands on his sides, rubbing his skin as he took deep breaths. He pictured his nerves leaving him and dropping onto the bed below him, feeling the comfortable fabric caressing his bare skin. He closed his eyes as he felt Arthur pressing against him and slowly pushed in. The outlaw grabbed his legs as Sam leaned his head back again, groaning, as he slowly pushed in more and more. It hurt, and Sam felt the stretch, but it was somehow more than what he imagined.

"Too much?" Arthur questioned, softly.

Sam shook his head, eyes on his lover, once more. His legs wrapped around Arthur, telling him to keep going. So he did, until he felt himself fully sheathed inside. Sam let out a muffled yelp, his hips bucking as Arthur brushed that spot once more. He started to move, his hips going slowly as his hands explored Sam's body. The young man leaned his head back again as he cursed and bucked. Arthur's fingers groped Sam's chest again, pinching his nipples which, despite the pain, made Sam scream and his cock started leaking. Arthur increased his pace, leaning over the smaller male to suck and bit at Sam's neck, knowing it would surely leave marks.

Sam's words were still stifled, but as Arthur sped up he was lost in his muffled pleas and curse words, regardless. With his mouth covered, the only thing people in the building would probably hear was the occasional creak of the bed.

Finally, Arthur reached between them, and all it took was a few strokes before Sam's saw white and spilled in Arthur's hand and on his own stomach. Arthur kept going as Sam muttered and mumbled incoherently. His legs still clinging to him told the outlaw to finish inside him.

So, he did, leaning into Sam's shoulder and groaning loudly as he did. Sam screamed again, feeling Arthur twitch and shake around inside him as Arthur claimed him from the inside.

Sam's nails dug into his palms as they stayed still for a minute. Sam wished he could hold Arthur with his bound hands. He panted through his gagged mouth, teeth showing as he sucked in air. He moaned as Arthur sucked and bit his neck. His cock twitched, but didn't harden again. He relaxed his head against the pillow once more, leaning into Arthur's hands as they caressed his cheeks.

A deep breath escaped from Sam when Arthur undid the gag. Sam lowered his tired legs, groaning softly as Arthur pulled out of him slowly, feeling himself leak onto the bed.

"You alright?" Arthur whispered, huskily.

Sam could only nod in response. "Stuff in my bag…" he mumbled.

Arthur reached for the satchel left on the floor and grabbed some wipes. He slipped a few under Sam and reached over to wipe down his stomach and legs, along with himself. Then he untied Sam's hands from the headboard. He tried to move them down himself, but Arthur held his wrists and brought them down, gently and slowly.

"Easy," said Arthur. "Just stay still for a while." He grinned when Sam obediently nodded, unable to make a response, other than a slight grunt. His eyes were struggling to stay open. After Sam's arms were down. Arthur laid with Sam pulled him pliantly into his arms. He was on his back with Sam cuddled up to him, his head on his chest and an arm splayed across him.

"Guess I should run… more often, if that's gonna happen…" Sam mumbled, softly, his words slurring.

"Not right now, you're not," Arthur replied, a smile on his face. He ran his fingers through Sam's hair, pulling the hair tie off and letting it all just hang loose. Sam just made a small noise as he scratched his scalp. "Good. Go to sleep, Sam."

"Love you…" Sam slurred out softly, eyes closing completely.

The outlaw tried not to resist the fullness in his heart when Sam said that. He hadn't felt that way in a long time.

"Love you, too." It was much more embarrassing to say it completely sober, but he wouldn't say he hated it.

This must be love…

Tap, tap!

That was the noise that woke Arthur up the next morning. He and Sam had barely moved in the night. Sam was still asleep, but blissfully content. His wrists still had a faded indent from the rope and his hair was still loose and soft. Honestly, Arthur didn't even feel like getting up right now. He just smiled, rubbed his hand up and down Sam's back and closed his eyes, once more.

Tap, tap!

The sound continued. Arthur opened his eyes again and looked around, trying to find the source. Finally, his sights fell on the window and he almost couldn't believe it. There was a bird tapping the glass on the windowsill.

Begrudgingly, Arthur slowly slipped away from Sam, who curled up on the bed some more when he did. The outlaw tucked him in, letting sleep some more and made his way to the window. The white dove had a piece of paper in its beak. Once Arthur opened the window, it left the rolled up paper and flew away.

To Tacitus Kilgore,

I hope you enjoyed your stay at one of our many hotels. I have already sent a letter to Mr. Hoagy Macintosh, as well.

Rise and shine, cowboys. Tonight, we have a very important meeting at the Mayor's house, and it's not every day us "lowly country folk" are invited. Meet me at the tailor. If you're going to that party, this is your chance to repay me for my… injury.

-Brandon Marrows

Arthur sighed. He set the letter down and went to wake Sam.

"Son of a bitch…" Arthur muttered.

After waking a sleepy and clingy Sam, they had a quick breakfast before heading out. As much as Sam wanted to ride behind Arthur just lean on him, they were in the middle of the city and deep in the south… like going north would be any better…

Following the directions Brandon left them, the two outlaws set out and ate breakfast at a small business, despite it being almost noon, and ended up at the local tailor. The building itself was pretty long and had multiple doors to other places. It was across from a park that was fenced off with greenery. The pair also saw the Count hitched up with Hosea's horse, Silver Dollar and Brandon's horse, Sunflower.

"Oh, good," Arthur said, as they dismounted from their steeds. "You're not limping. Guess we don't have to explain what we did to Dutch."

Sam smiled a little, but he pushed past Arthur quickly, rubbing his sore neck that he covered up with a handkerchief. "Shut up."

The tailor they came up on, seemed to be big and have everything. Between the many windows were labels that read all the things they had like, underwear, furnisher, milliners, neckwear and more. When Sam and Arthured neared the entrance, someone with a red bandana walked away fast and met up with Brandon, patting him on the shoulder, before turning the corner and getting out of sight.

Brandon was busying himself, despite seemingly standing idle. He had a cigarette in one gloved hand and was throwing bird food onto the ground with the other. The birds were white doves, eating up all the food he offered him. As soon as Arthur and Sam approached, Brandon whistled beautifully with his bird calls and they flew away in unison.

"That's what you're wearing?" Brandon asked, looking at them up and down.

"Uh, yes?" said Sam. "How's the wound?"

Brandon finished his cigarette and put it out on the floor with his foot. "Barely feel it, now. Rose still won't leave me alone for two seconds, though. But seriously, the mayor's party is a ball."

Arthur and Sam exchanged looks.

"I'm pretty sure neither ain't been to a ball," Arthur said, stifling a laugh.

"Oh, yes. That much is clear," Brandon responded, flatly. "Anyway, sorry if I'm… cranky. There's a-"

Suddenly, the tailor's door opened and Rose's angry, pouty face poked out. She was staring right at Brandon who just sighed irritably and turned his head to her.

"Okay, fine! I'll come in and sit," Brandon snapped. He took a deep breath and turned back to the outlaws. "Follow me, inside, gentlemen. Mr. Macintosh and his friend are waiting."

Once Arthur and Sam stepped inside, they were astonished to see other people there, too. The place was almost packed with Brandon's men and women, all of them having Brandon's insignia of the red bandana somewhere on their bodies.

It was also the most fancy tailor in town with the lavender walls and white trim, a fireplace and mantle, a small chandelier hanging over the mahogany desk and gold metal register with many drawers behind it, filled with accessories. Pricy hats were on display and in the back was a small sitting area.

"The owner was gracious enough to allow us to use this place to fit our men and women for tonight," Brandon said, hands on his hips, and a smile on his face.

"So that's why you sent that letter," said Sam.

Brandon nodded. "I'll tell you the details later, where the walls don't have ears."

Rose gave him a gentle shove. "Okay, I'm going!" said Brandon. "Follow Rose. She knows a thing or two about high society fashion, believe it or not." While it didn't look like he was still sore, Brandon held his side and walked over to the dressing room, where Hosea and Dutch were waiting for them.

"Ah, good of you to join us," said Dutch. He and Hosea were getting their measurements taken by two of Brandon's staff. Rose held up her hand and dismissed them, leaving Rose to take over.

"So we're actually doing this?" said Arthur.

"Oh, yeah," said Hosea. "Old friend Dutch van der Linde has finally shown his true colors… social climbing."

Dutch rolled his eyes. "Yes we're going to the ball. So, I suggest we get you and Cinderella a gown."

Sam formed a pout with his lips. It was cute, which didn't help with what he just called. Did this make Rose their fairy godmother?

Remembering Brandon's words, he seemed right about Rose. It made the quartet of outlaws puzzled about her. She was always a mystery, given that she didn't speak, but outlaws came in all kinds of ways. Rose also seemed more fashionable than Brandon.

Rose had her hands full with other members of Brandon's group, so the first thing she did was have all four of them go to the local bath house and clean up. She wasn't sure who, but she could smell the scent of sweat and sex on at least one or two of them.

Hosea was the first one back, so she started working her magic. The others had already gotten their outfits, so Rose stretched out and cracked her knuckles and took Hosea into the dressing room.

Hosea had short gray hair, so getting that in order wasn't that hard. She sat him down in a chair brushed through his hair with a comb, and used some pomade to make it neat and slicked back. She debated with herself for a bit, Hosea staring at her as she paced for a moment across the room, and decided that black was the best color for him and the others, unlike Brandon who preferred white. But she did have him wear a white collared shirt as an accent to the black. The coat was dark, along with the pants, shoes, and bowtie. The coast itself had those long coattails on the back. As a finishing touch, she attached a white corsage. The flower was fake, but a good fake.

Rose was clearing Hosea's suit of any lint or debris when Sam and Arthur returned. She finished up and began to work on Arthur next. Both he and Sam had long hair. That wasn't really a problem, but how they took care of it, was.

Arthur's hair wasn't greasy anymore, given that he had bathed recently, but it was tangled. Rose just sighed, took off her gloves and rolled up her sleeves. Comb aside, she picked up the brush instead once as Rose fought her battle with tangled hair. After that she got the shears and shaved the beard Arthur was starting to grow. He didn't mind, and was actually thinking that he hadn't shaved after the Colm incident. She gave him an outfit similar to Hosea's but declined on the corsage.

"You know how I feel about dressing up," Arthur grumbled, as Rose helped him put on the formal coat.

"Well it ain't like we can show up in rags," Hosea said, as Arthur looked at himself in the full length mirror. Rose straightened out the coat tails and started brushing away dirt or lint.

Sam had a hand on his chin, practically grinning ear to ear. "I think you look good, Fenton." He smiled more, teeth showing as Hosea snickered at the name he spat out.

Arthur sighed. "That's how you like me, huh? Looking like one of those high society snobs?"

Sam locked eyes with Arthur. "You know how I prefer you."

"Oh god…" Arthur groaned, as Hosea laughed some more. "You really say that out in public, don't you?"

"We're in a dressing room. It's fine."

Messy ponytails would be a big no-no at the mayor's party. So Rose got to work on Sam immediately. She undid his hair and went through it with a brush. Unlike Arthur, Sam hissed and squirmed in his chair. With it untangled, however, it was longer and straighter than expected. So Rose brushed most of it back as she tied back up again, two thin locks only coming loose to the front, but that was fine. She tied off his hair with a bow.

Sam huffed when Rose put the white collared shirt on him, mostly because she buttoned all of the buttons and wouldn't let him keep the last one loose for the sake of the bowtie.

"Ack!" Sam jolted, as Rose helped him put it on.

"Never worn a suit before?" said Arthur.

"No," Sam grunted. "Is it supposed to slowly choke the life out of you?"

Rose rolled her eyes and loosened the bowtie enough that Sam would shut up about it. He also wasn't used to wearing formal shoes in the place of boots, but so were the others.

Dutch, however, didn't have much of a problem getting dressed up, like the others. Not only did he not complain, he requested that Rose make him stand out from the others. The young lady thought nothing of it. He was the boys' leader, after all.

Dutch's hair was already untangled and styled, so there was no need to lay a finger on it upon examination. She did style his mustache parting and curling the tips at the end to make it seem more refined. Dutch didn't mind how close Rose had to get. In fact, he seemed to grin at her, but she just brushed it off like nothing.

After styling his hair, Rose brought Dutch, who was suited up, to the full length mirror and agreed that someone like him could use a little something extra. Rose got him some white gloves, a corsage and for a finishing touch, she placed a top hat on his head.

Finally, everyone met up, all seeing each other dressed to the nines in their dark tuxedos and accessories. And, like any group of men when they saw something unusual, they laughed.

"We look ridiculous!" said Dutch.

"Utterly," said Hosea. He smirked at Sam uncomfortably messing with his own tie.

"I ain't never been to a ball in my life," said Arthur.

"Nor have I if I'm being honest," said Dutch.

"I used to quite often," said Hosea, "there could be fine pickings. That sentence made Sam finally smile for once while wearing that tuxedo.

"No, no, no, no…" Dutch chuckled. "No pickpocketing…"

Sam sighed. And there went his smile…

"We are here to make real contacts," said Dutch.

"Contacts?" said Sam. "Us outlaws?"

"Well, sure." He smiled, as Rose approached them with champagne glasses to get them in the high class party mood. "You have yours to track down Colm, don't you?"

"Well, what kind of contacts?" said Arthur.

"Well I don't know. We'll find what we can. All I know for sure is we are going to a party at the mayor's house and the guest of honor is the worst crook in town." The statement made the others start cracking up. "I'm sure that we will find something."

Rose shook her head as she walked off with the empty tray, hearing the four men who crashed their glasses together. She didn't have time for foolish talk.

Because she needed to get dressed, as well.

As much as Sam wanted to ride in the carriage with the others, Brandon didn't allow it. Sam was a little annoyed, but knew that he had a mission to repay Brandon for his help finding Jack.

No pickpocketing, and no time with a spiffy looking Arthur Morgan. Sam wasn't even there and he already thought this party was gonna suck.

Lenny drove the carriage that Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea were in and someone from Brandon's group was driving the one he and Sam and Rose were in.

Rose did not disappoint. While Brandon wore the same suit from when he talked their way into Bronte's house, Rose was in a red flowing dress, red heels on her feet and a thick choker around her neck. She had eyeliner and eyeshadow, along with ruby colored lipstick. Golden earrings hung off of her ears and she wore white gloves on her hands. They made them look more delicate and gentle than the kind that could pull out a weapon or could stab a knife through someone's hand if they so much as look at Brandon with ill intention.

"You look… whoa…" Sam said, almost at a loss for words.

Once everyone was on the road, Brandon finally went over the details.

"Your business with Bronte is your business," said Brandon. "Well, as long as you don't cross the line."

Sam nodded. "Well, I'll try and make sure it doesn't come to that. So, what's the mission here?"

Rose didn't move from her spot. She was as still as a tree, hands on her purse as she continued looking outside of the carriage window.

"Well, as much as I wish John was here, he's not," said Brandon. "I can only assume it's because of that woman and child of his, and those scars make him too distinct, but I digress." He got out a cigarette and Rose was gracious enough to light it for him with a match. "Thank-you." Rose blew out the match, her lips slightly reflecting some of the light from the streetlamps, and tossed it out the window. "I always knew leaving one end loose would cost me."

"What do you mean?" said Sam.

"I'll tell you more when it's time," said Brandon, "but what I can tell you is that a group of people screwed me over in the past, and well, we took care of it, in a way. It wasn't like we had anything else to lose."

Sam vaguely recalled something like that when they first met. It was a long time ago. At least, that was what it felt like. Still, he also didn't have anything to lose when they met. Or rather, that was what it also felt.

He knew what this was about: Revenge.

Brandon reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a photo. There was a woman wearing a hat decorated with many accessories, and wore a green corset with a lacy neck part. She had a brooch on her neck

"This is Grace Lancing," Brandon stated. His voice went light for a second, sounding almost carefree. "Society patroness, lover of the arts… and crook." His voice went sharp at that last statement. "And she was a former best friend of someone I know very well." He breathed out a deep sigh before continuing, placing a hand on his wounded side. "I did some digging after the whole… incident. The last time we spoke this friend of mine told me and Rose that this woman could wait, but now she's threatening my men and women and trying to pull them onto her payroll, either by choice or force. Knowing her, she probably inherited everything from her late husband and business partners, but who knows how far that money will get her before it runs dry."

"Okay…" Ssam said, shifting in his seat a little. "Where do I come in?"

"Grace has made the trip from Blackwater to here in Saint Denis. She's going to be at the mayor's party and I need to make sure she's really here."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You don't trust your people?"

"After what happened…" Brandon frowned. He started looking downwards and his mouth hesitated to form the next words. "I'm not sure. That girl and that man I took care of the morning or so after the attack weren't the only ones." The blonde sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "The woman who did stab me wasn't sent by the Pinkertons, despite that man's testimony. But Grace's name was on her lips. It has to be her. You're the furthest man from my people, Sam. If Grace sees and recognizes me, she'll shout so that everyone can hear her. But you're a different story, Sam." Brandon gestured to him like a prized jewel on display. "You can get near her and she won't make a peep."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Unless she knows about my work."

Brandon chuckled. "Maybe." He took a deep inhale of his cigarette and let the fumes from his mouth blow away out the window. "But will she recognize you, seeing as you're all dolled up tonight? If not, maybe Arthur or Hosea can verify."

Sam sighed. It wasn't his choice to wear this getup. "Alright, I'll see what I can do."

"Just whatever you do, do not engage if you see her. There's gonna be too many people at this party. I will follow her to where she goes when she leaves. If you see her, report back to me. I'll be somewhere at the party you can't miss the whole time."

Sam nodded. "Alright."

The carriages stopped at the mayor's house. It was a large, two story opulent house, built with white columns and had many windows. Everyone was out of their rides quickly and timely, with Brandon helping Rose out, like a gentleman.

"Evening." A servant was at the entrance to greet them. "I'm afraid the mayor doesn't allow guns at official functions after last year's incident."

Dutch, Sam, Arthur and Brandon were compliant and handed over their sidearms. Rose held her bag close, but that aroused a bit of suspicion. So, in the end, she reached into it and gave the revolver inside it to the man.

"Luca here will take you to Mr. Bronte," said the servant. "I believe he is expecting you."

"Follow me gentlemen… and madam," said Luca. He was another servant. He led everyone towards the mansion up ahead. "Signore Bronte will be so pleased that you made it."

"We are honored to be here," said Dutch.

"That's wonderful, wonderful," Luca replied, happily. "Come, come, this way."

Sam looked up, his mouth hanging open like some dope. The house was so big, and they were going to go inside of it.

"What a beautiful evening it shall be…" Luca continued, as they went up the steps and through the front doors. "Mr. Bronte is very good friends with the mayor. A-As long as the mayor behaves himself, you know."

The foyer's walls were white, with portraits adorning them. A white patterned rug was on the wooden floor and the stairs started in the middle at the back and parted left and right as it went up. White columns were holding everything up and maids, butlers and other servants were busying themselves, running back and forth.

"Hosea, Sam, you join the party," said Dutch. "We'll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signore Bronte.

"As will we," said Brandon. He followed the two out, and so did Rose.

Hosea nodded and gave Sam a gentle tug to follow.

"We'll meet you on the balcony when you're done," said Hosea.

Brandon was the first to the back of the mayor's house. The others quickly followed. Crowds of people were in the mayor's garden. They were all dressed to the nines, talking, laughing, drinking champagne, eating food, and listening to live music. Among the maze of greenery and small fountains was a big one at the center. In the back was a large gazebo with a great view of the swampy river. Lights were hanging above it all, gently illuminating the party. Sam had never seen so many people in one place before.

"Rose, go join the party," said Brandon. The girl nodded and gracefully started down the steps to her left. "I'll take a look around. If you find the target, I'll be over by the drinks."

"Got it," said Sam. He decided to wait until Brandon had taken the steps on the right and joined the party, as well. Divide and conquer. Hosea was looking at Sam, and he immediately knew that he wanted him to spill the tea… which he did.

"Grace Lancing?" Hosea asked, after Sam finished explaining. He even showed him the photo. "Why do I feel like I've heard it somewhere?"

Sam shrugged and leaned against the railing.

"Well, what do you think of it?" the elder asked.

Sam turned around, still leaning on the railing, but now facing Hosea.

"I think Brandon has every right to be angry, but if I'm being honest, I think he's afraid," Sam answered. "Said that he found more traitors in his ranks and even though Rose ain't never uttered a word, she seemed quieter than usual."

"And I don't think our escapade in Rhodes made it any better, either," said Hoesa.

Sam nodded. "Guess not. I gotta find this woman and try to fix this."

Hosea smiled. "Good luck. And remember: Don't steal anything except information."

The young man sighed. "Yes, sir…"

Sam stepped down from the balcony and went down the steps. The live string music he was hearing got louder and once he was on the ground level, he found a band of violins, violas and a cello. Near them were some potted flowers. Lilies, to be exact. Sam looked at them for a moment with a fond smile.

"You have a wonderful hat, miss."

Sam looked up from the flowers and music and saw a lady with a gaudy hat. She was talking to Brandon.

"Ah, thank-you," said the lady. "I got it from Mr. Wasp… he's the finest milliner in the state."

Brandon nodded in agreement, but he seemed out of it. Sam finally noticed that Brandon was still wearing the dark gloves he always had on. He kept staring at the band, rubbing them together gently. As much as he wanted to ask, this wasn't the right place to do it.

However, seeing Brandon fiddle with his hands made Sam remember when he was treating him. He had scars all over his back and arms. Did he have scars on his hands, too?

It looked like the meeting with Bronte was over, because Sam could see Dutch and Arthur joining up with Hosea. With them around, they could cover more ground.

Sam left Brandon to his devices, while Sam continued to look for anything interesting and this infamous Grace Lancing. He could hear the chatter from the high-class people.

"I mean, modern art is all very well, but my daughter could do better."

"Time… what a total bastard it is, huh?"

There was more champagne being passed around. Sam grabbed himself a glass and knew he couldn't drink much of it. Well, nothing said he couldn't after finding Grace Lancing. So, he adjusted his tie and just took small sips as he walked around.

Hosea appeared to be talking with some people Dutch was walking around, tipping his top hat and striking up conversations. Arthur was pouring drinks for some of the ladies like a gentleman. Everyone had such shiny jewelry and their bags were probably full of goodies and Sam couldn't have any.

Then, his ears picked up gasping and coughing. Sam turned his head and saw a man in an exotic-looking suit in distress.

"Oh my god! He's choking!" a woman shrieked.

Sam's drink fell from his hand. He raced into action towards the individual.

"Out of the way!" Sam called as he pushed some people aside. "I know what to do!"

Sam got behind the man, and placed his hands below the diaphragm and immediately applied pressure. The man spat whatever was in his throat: A mere peanut. Sam let him go and the man grasped the nearby table, coughing and gasping.

"Are you okay, mister?" Sam asked. Some people were clapping for them. He looked around the nearby table and poured the man a glass of water.

"Oh, my Lord…" the man said. "The pesky nut…" He took another deep breath, "what a way to go, eh?"

Sam sighed in relief, not caring about the applauding onlookers who had done nothing.

"Thank-you, sir," said the exotically dressed man, "oh… yes… thank-you…" He cleared his throat and took a drink of water. Even though he was still trembling, he pulled out his business card. "I am Algoron Wasper, collector and seller of the exotic. Th-Thank-you."

Sam happily accepted the card. "Yeah, no problem."

The young man soon remembered his task and got back to it. He continued walking around… after getting another drink, this time checking the perimeter and eventually found a crowd of people admiring the water by the gazebo. Among them was Rose, who was starring in the exact opposite direction from where everyone else was looking. Sam cut out the idle chatter and focused his attention fully on her.

She was staring at the fountain. There were a group of people… and among them was a woman… in a green ballroom gown. She had white gloves, wore ruby lipstick and eye shadow and a hat with a rather large white plume poking up from the top.

What let Sam into the woman's identity was the brooch she was wearing. Sam turned away for a moment to see the photo again and it was a match. Grace Lancing. And she was right in the middle of the party.

Sam sighed in relief. All he had to do now was tell Brandon. His focus was on Rose again, which made him realize that she had been staring at Grace this whole time. If she had found her first, why hadn't she gone back to Brandon?

Then Rose started walking. She was going right towards Grace. Her lips were moving, but no sound could be heard.

Sam walked quickly towards her, gently pushing people in his way to the side. Slowly, he picked up speed. If he didn't act now, Rose was going to blow their cover.

His fears were realized when Rose dug through her purse. Guns were allowed at the party, but they never said knives. And now, she pulled one out from her bag.

"Rose!" Dropping his glass for the second time, Sam ran up, just in time to grab her knife wielding hand. "What are you doing?!" he hissed.

Rose struggled to break free from Sam. They tugged back and forth. Some people started to watch, but Sam knew a trick or two from his thieving days. He made a yank at Rose, pulling her towards him and Sam used the momentum to push her away once more, the shock making it easy to snatch the knife and run.

Last time Sam checked, Brandon was by the musicians. Once he was far enough, he slowed down to a speed walk, hoping no one thought the knife in his hand was for ill intentions. He just had to get to Brandon.

Suddenly, there was the sound of thunder. There were several of them, coming in quick succession. The flashes Sam saw were colorful, but flashes nonetheless. The only thing Sam could think to do at that moment was yelp and cover his ears, knife clattering onto the floor.

What kind of colorful lightning was this?

Then, just as Sam sank to his knees, these were hands on his. They weren't Lily's, but they were too small and slender to be Arthur or Hosea.

Sam opened his eyes and saw it was Rose, knelt down before him. She took one hand away to point away from the mansion and Sam turned his head.

Lights were exploding in the sky in bursts of fire-like confetti. Sam slowly took his trembling hands away from his ears. This wasn't lightning.

These were fireworks. He'd never seen them before. It was like magic.

And then he saw Rose's purse was in his face before everything went black.

"Sam! Sam! Can you hear me, son?"

"Shit!"

"Arthur, go. We'll take care of Sam."

"Alright, alright."

"Oh, thank God," Dutch said, once Sam started blinking his eyes open. The lights were a little too bright at the moment and the sight made Sam's head throb. Dutch had rushed over to him with Hosea and Brandon.

"R-Rose… where?" Sam mumbled. He grabbed his head with a hiss.

"Sam, did you see her?" Brandon asked.

Despite his aching head, Sam knew what he was asking and nodded.

"Okay," Brandon patted him on the shoulder. "I'll take it from here. Get going. I'll go look for Rose."

And even though he was wearing white, Brandon got up and vanished into the party like a shadow. Some people were staring on, but seemed unaware of what was happening.

"Hosea, you stay here and wait for Arthur," Dutch said, reaching out for Sam's shoulder to keep him steady. "I'll see to our incapacitated friend here."

"You got it," said Hosea.

"I'm fiiiine…" Sam whined. His head tilted, everything still swaying.

"Come on," Dutch put his hands under Sam's arms and pulled him up. Sam groaned, his head throbbing and head swimming at the motion. Dutch pulled one of Sam's arms over his shoulders and around the back of his neck, letting Sam lean on him completely. Sam used his other hand to nurse his aching head.

"Worst. Party. Ever," Sam grumbled as they waddled through the side garden of the mansion. "Is just… everyone drinking, but being fancy. What the hell is the difference?!" His words slurred. "Just lemme drink!" Sam gripped his head hard. "Can I take this stupid tie off?!"

"In the carriage, son," Dutch answered, calmly. He laughed to himself, hearing Sam whine like a child.

Once they were at the entrance, Lenny had shown up once more with the carriage. Dutch had Sam sit next to him in order to monitor him better. Arthur and Hosea caught up to them not long after. Lenny saw everyone aboard and started the drive home.

"Did you find anything?" Dutch asked.

"I think so," said Arthur. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out some piece of paper. Sam didn't know what it was, but his head hurt too much to care right now.

"Anybody see you take this?" Dutch asked. He pulled Sam to him, when he tried to lean away, so Sam conceded and just hid his face in his shoulder.

"Don't reckon," said Arthur. "You okay Sam?"

Sam groaned into the shoulder he was hiding in. "I'm fine… This ain't the first time I've hit my head."

"Well, that explains a lot," Arthur laughed when Sam kicked him.

"It was Rose! I was trying to stop her from killing that lady we was looking for…" Sam mumbled.

"What lady?" Dutch asked, nudging the boy to keep him awake.

"This one." Sam finally undid his tie, reached into his coat pocket and handed him the photo.

Dutch looked at and squinted. Then, his brows furrowed. "Hang on a second. I've seen this."

"Really?" Sam sounded surprised as he looked up. Even with his half-lidded eyes.

"Yeah, let's get back to camp. I need to verify."

Sam just nodded and let himself space out. He heard the others talking about a river boat, a trolley station, and a bank. And then, Arthur, being the best man he was, like always, snuck out something from the party to help him feel better, and Sam finally got what he wanted without dropping it: A fucking drink!