Charles dreamt of a summer afternoon, the sun warm on his skin. He stood in one of his favorite places in northern Ambarino. It was on a mountain in the Grizzlies east, away from the roads and any towns. The ground behind him sprouted blooming orchids. Beyond these flowers and the tall grass, he was within walking distance of the area he had constructed as Arthur's gravesite.

But his attention was on the world below him, unreachable at this height. Charles was content enough to stand near the edge and view the spread of this land's vastness, how the rivers curved with the hills, and how much the trees encompassed it all, except the scarring of ground where man had made his mark. This was where Charles was the most at peace, and he wasn't surprised it was a place his mind would send him.

Charles didn't dream often, and when he did, he rarely dreamt of other people. Much of his life he'd been alone, and his subconscious often reflected that.

But this time, in this dream, he wasn't alone. At his side stood Irene, her silver-blonde hair loose and billowing lightly in the wind, her skirt gently rippling with the breeze.

He wanted to see her smile, to witness her enjoying this place of tranquility as much as him. But when she turned, it wasn't to bestow him with a pleased expression, but concern.

She faced him and whispered, "You're missing something, Charles."

As soon as he awoke, Charles was aware of the stillness of the room. He sat up, his grogginess so thick, he spent a minute to take in his surroundings. Because of his dream, he struggled to shake a prominent uneasiness.

Sunlight filled the room allowing him to easily cast his eyes around, and see clearly his surroundings. Everything was in place except, unlike his dream, he was alone.

Keeping his ears perked for any sound from the other room, Charles left the bed. He gathered his clothes, noticing the quiet of the little house. He recalled how much warmth Irene had in her voice when she'd spoken of her time here.

Despite its former accommodation as a stop for wayward men, it was pleasantly cozy on the inside. In fact, the way Irene told it, he'd found himself a little envious of her upbringing, as unconventional as it was. A whore and a bartender had raised Irene here, but she seemed to have grown up in a loving environment. It was more than Charles ever had, at least of what he could remember.

Last night, with Irene tidying up the bedrooms, and Charles cooking, he'd felt at home too. For a few hours, Irene had shed her anxiety and had become once again the open, joyful woman he'd met at the café.

Since he hadn't heard her yet, he called out, "Irene?"

There was no answer.

Charles' concern grew when he reached the main room and there wasn't anything disturbed besides the plates they'd used for dinner last night. There was no sign of Irene.

Would she have gone outside alone? Charles frowned at the thought. Irene should how dangerous it was in these woods, especially when they'd been ambushed by Murfrees, and had bounty hunters on their tail.

He searched the home a little more thoroughly in case he missed something, as the Irene in his dream had warned him. He checked every surface, every countertop, cabinet, the bed, the side table and finally the dresser. Charles didn't know what he expected to find. Maybe a note?

There was nothing until he noticed her satchel missing from the top of the dresser. At that, he started to suspect what he didn't want to accept. She'd taken her satchel, and that was proof enough of intention.

Charles left the house and was greeted by Taima hitched to the porch. She huffed at him, and gave a little shake of her head. He approached her, simultaneously relieved and concerned that she was still here. Irene hadn't taken her, but she also didn't have Falmouth. There was only one thing she could have done and he didn't know why.

Charles found an oatcake and fed Taima. While he did so, he examined the ground. The grass was dewy, still somewhat soft from the storm of the day before. Irene's step was light, but he found her shoe imprints easily enough burrowed shallowly in the ground. There was no mistaking their direction, north. Yet, he didn't understand. Where would she go?

As if to answer his call for guidance, the faint whistle of a train filtered through the trees. He recalled what he'd told Irene about needing to catch the train to make it back to Saint Denis on time. He'd been too comfortable in bed with her that he'd overslept, which wasn't like him, but why would she have gone off on her own?

Once he caught up to her, he was going to demand some answers.

Without any more hesitation, Charles hopped on Taima, turned her around to the path leading to the road, and pushed her into a gallop. He kept his eyes on the trail ahead, wanting more than anything to catch up to her. All the while, his mind was going through anything of their conversation he might have said to push Irene to finish this by herself.

They'd had a pleasant evening, hadn't they? He thought they'd come to an agreement. He'd vowed to protect her. He'd persuaded her...hadn't he? Instead of her reassurances coming to mind, he recalled her first sentiment when he'd offered to help her.

"I'm sorry, Charles. I don't want you any more involved than you already are."

Even with Taima's speed, it was half an hour before he reached the coal-mining town. He never saw Irene walking on the trail. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he spotted right away there was no train in the station. He hadn't passed it on the way in, so it must be long gone from here.

She'd left him behind.

Charles shook his head, cutting loose that thought. He wouldn't give up yet. He shoved all his doubts down as he hitched Taima and entered the Annesburg station with a hastened stride. He cast a quick look over the people in the waiting area to his right, hoping she hadn't made it on the train so he could ask her what she was thinking. But no one sitting on the benches was Irene.

He approached the man at the window and asked without preamble, "Did a tall blonde woman with no luggage purchase a ticket recently?"

The ticket clerk was smartly dressed with a pressed suit, a dark blue velvet vest shimmering underneath. His nose was red even though there was no chill in the air. The mouth under his sandy-colored beard turned downward as he eyed Charles with full skepticism. "Could've been."

"Please. I need to know. She's in danger."

"From you?"

"Of course not," Charles snarled.

"Alright, son, no need to get all huffy. You can't barge in here making demands, you know. This is a place of business."

"I need to know if she got on a train to Saint Denis," Charles said impatiently, not in the mood for a lecture.

"Give me a minute," the clerk responded with irritation. "You kids are always rushing for results." He thought a moment, clicking his tongue. Each second that went by only served to amp up Charles' frustration further. "Yes, I believe I do remember there being a young woman getting on the train this morning."

Charles' hopes rose—

"But she weren't going to Saint Denis."

—and were dashed just as rapidly, to be replaced with confusion. "Then where?"

The clerk shrugged. "I couldn't say. She bought a transfer ticket for the next station on the northern rail."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, good sir, that as soon as she arrives at the next station, she's already prepaid to get on whatever train she wants from there. Could hop on a car to Boston, New York...hell, even Cali-forn-I-A, if she were so inclined. All I know for sure is that ticket weren't going to Saint Denis."

Half a dozen realizations hit Charles at once. She'd abandoned him intentionally, she hadn't left behind a note, she wasn't going back to Saint Denis, and he couldn't follow her. She could be anywhere. There was only one conclusion. She was running away.

Charles couldn't suppress the flood of doubts bursting now. What had happened? Had he said something wrong? He'd fallen asleep thinking they were on the same line of thinking, that they had reached a turning point in their relationship, and he'd woken up to her missing.

He knew she'd been hesitant at the start of the trip. Had he pressured her too much? Overstepped with his honesty? He didn't know.

He had no way of following her and finding out. If the ticket clerk was correct, even if he pushed Taima hard, he wouldn't be fast enough to catch Irene at the next station before she switched trains.

She'd left him behind.

Numbly, he exited the train station without purchasing a ticket, at a loss as to his next move. She'd effectively cut him out of her plans. He felt foolish, remembering the words he'd laid down for her, remembering how much of his heart he'd offered to her.

"Let me be a part of this. A part of you."

"Okay."

Had that exchange between them meant nothing to her? He found himself sinking into colossal uncertainty, a state in which he rarely experienced. Their time together had felt real, honest, to him. He refused to believe it was all insincere. But what had happened? There must be an explanation.

"Hey!" someone called out to him. "Charles!"

Charles turned around, surprised to find Arthur Morgan walking towards him down the wooden boardwalk in front of the general store.

Arthur wore a huge grin as he approached, outstretching his hand right away to shake, before pulling Charles into a quick hug. "How the hell are you?"

Charles felt too emotionally raw to hide his state of mind. "Not...good."

"What's going on?" Arthur's enthusiasm dropped off as he looked around, asking in a low voice, "You got law on you?"

Charles shook his head, not even knowing where to begin.

"Something happen to Rains Fall?"

"No, nothing like that."

Arthur appeared visibly relieved before he continued, "Word from more of the gang?"

"No."

Arthur gave up guessing and asked, "Then what?"

Charles tried to start, "Her name's Irene..."

"Lady troubles?" Arthur asked, his eyebrows rising. "Hell, I've been there."

Charles swallowed, but his silence must have been enough of a give away to his developing distress.

Arthur invited, "You wanna come up to the house and talk about it?"

"I don't know what good it would do."

"I don't got a ton of insight on women, but I can listen." When Charles didn't immediately answer, Arthur insisted, "Come on. You ain't helpin' yourself standin' around here, are you?"

That was true enough. He did need advice as he didn't know what to do with himself. Maybe Arthur would pick up on something Charles hadn't. "Alright, Arthur."

As they mounted their horses, Arthur said, "Besides, Charlotte might be help enough. She has a way of makin' things seem simple."

As they left Annesburg, Charles used as much courtesy as he could muster to ask, "How have you been? Have Rains Fall's tonics been working?"

Arthur shrugged, his eyes on the road. "For the most part. Some days is better than others. But that's how it's gonna be until death comes knockin', I reckon."

"Fair enough. You seem to have come to better terms with it since I last saw you."

"Realized it ain't worth worryin' over 'til it happens. Charlotte's been trying to drill that into me the best she can."

Charles found he had the capacity to smile at that. "How's the kid?"

Arthur's demeanor brightened, as he sat up in his saddle. "Growin' fast, that's for sure. She just started walkin', if you can believe it."

Charles murmured, "Sounds exciting."

"It is." Arthur chuckled. "Let me tell you, the cat ain't too happy about it, and we gotta keep both eyes on her now."

Arthur sounded happy, which did a little to lift Charles from his gloom. Since Guarma, Arthur had been weighed down by so much regret and guilt. Now, that side of him seemed to be long gone.

Every time Charles visited Willard's Rest, there was some new improvement or addition. This time, the stable in back of the house now had a beaten gravel path trail leading to it. They'd also filled the small fenced off area next to it with a few chickens. The garden had expanded in variety and space. Next to the shed, there was now an area for skinning and cutting game, and stretching leather hides. All around, the homestead was thriving.

As they walked up to the house, he saw Charlotte swaying in a rocking chair on the porch, holding a baby that was much bigger than the tiny newborn he remembered. She even had a head full of dark hair nowadays, similar in color to Charlotte's own, but shorter.

"Look who I ran into in town."

"Welcome, Charles," Charlotte greeted with a wide smile, before standing and kissing Arthur on the cheek. "We've been hoping for you to drop by again soon."

Guilt plagued him suddenly as this hadn't been a planned visit, but he said, "It's good to be back."

Charlotte looked between the two of them, somehow able to pick up on his morose mood even though he'd done his best to put on a friendly, outward manner. "Is something wrong?"

Arthur opened the front door, leading them in. "Charles is gonna tell us all about it, I hope."

"Let me put Nora down for her nap, and I'll serve up some lunch."

Arthur countered, "You take of the baby. I'll take care of lunch."

"Yes, Arthur," she said agreeably, but with a sigh in her tone that had Charles lifting an eyebrow to Arthur as a question.

As soon as Charlotte was in the other room, Arthur told him in a lowered voice, "Ain't told no one else this yet, but...Charlotte's pregnant."

"Again?" Charles said before thinking.

Arthur sighed. "We weren't expectin' it neither, that's for damn sure. She's happy about it—we both are, but..."

"Your hands are full as it is?"

"Yeah, and I want her to take it easy this time around." Arthur's gaze went to the doorway, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "It really ain't so bad though. Just catching up on all the life I missed out on all at once."

"Mmm."

Arthur shook his head and then clapped a hand on Charles' shoulder. "Take a seat, Charles, and let's see what we can do for you."

As Arthur served up bread and cooked fish, Charles allowed himself to be a guest in his friend's home. It was simple enough to relax in their presence. They demanded nothing of him except his company, a gesture he accepted gratefully.

Soon enough, Charlotte re-entered the main room and sat next to him at the dinner table. She pointed at his arm, where a slit revealed the bandage underneath. "What happened here?"

"Murfrees."

Arthur scowled as he sat next to Charlotte, and across from him. "Those sons of bitches still roaming these hills?"

"They ambushed Irene and I between Saint Denis and Van Horn."

"You poor dears." Charlotte murmured with empathy. "Let me redress it for you."

Charles raised a hand as Charlotte stood. "That's not necessary. It isn't deep. I'm sure it's mostly healed up now."

"Alright." Charlotte slowly returned to her chair. "But, you'll have to let me take a look before you leave, to make sure."

Arthur and Charlotte didn't pressure him into talking, and Charles thought it would be difficult to get started. Instead, despite his usual reservations, he found the ability to recount what happened with a certain ease.

"I'm helping her," Charles told them. "Irene. That's why we're up here. A few days ago, a man threatened her if she didn't bring him a stolen ring of his. She meant to flee Saint Denis, but I convinced her to come out here to retrieve it for him, so she could remain in the city. I thought that's what she wanted."

"I take it, she didn't?" Arthur asked.

The words tasted bitter in his mouth. "She got on a train in Annesburg this morning." Without him.

"She didn't say nothing?"

"No. Bounty hunters were on our trail. My running guess is they spooked her." Charles wanted to believe that's all it was, her fear of the danger making her run. But he'd told her he'd go with, if she wanted.

"Bounty hunters?" Arthur asked, intrigued. "After you, or her?"

"Irene's...not without her own flaws." Charles said with care, not wanting them to form a poor opinion of her without having met her.

"As are we all," Charlotte accepted, while Arthur's interest noticeably increased.

"But I want to find her," Charles added.

"You sure she weren't taken in?"

"Yes." Of that, Charles was absolutely sure. There had been only one set of tracks leaving her house. "We had a plan. I thought we were on the same page. I don't understand what happened."

"What's she wanted for?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know," Charles admitted. "I told her it didn't matter. She wants to lead a different life, and I wanted to respect her privacy."

Arthur nodded as if he understood, but he continued his questions. "How about who she used to run with, anyone we know?"

"I don't know that either. She doesn't like to talk about it."

"Must be real bad then, whatever it is," Arthur concluded and Charles grimaced.

Charlotte frowned his direction. "Arthur."

"Look, I ain't judgin' what she was. But, Charlotte, you gotta admit it don't look good, her being all secretive."

Charlotte addressed Charles, "Charles, you seem to care very much for this young lady?"

"Yes."

"If the feelings are mutual, perhaps she grew overcome with worry at her predicament affecting you?"

Arthur put in, "Don't she know what sort of business you used to get up to?"

Now that Charles thought about it, his past hadn't come up much in conversation, and certainly nothing about the gang. She'd been so distracted with her own situation, she hadn't asked much about him. Now he wondered if she believed him only to be some kind of traveling laborer who had settled in Saint Denis.

Charlotte suggested, "Perhaps all she needs is time."

"I was willing to give her all the time she wanted." Which is why her leaving crushed him so much. "She could be anywhere by now."

"Hell, Charles, I wanna help you find this girl, but what do you know about her?"

"She has family in Van Horn. The bar owner named Josie is someone she wanted to visit."

Irene had made it sound like she hadn't wanted to risk the visit, but maybe she'd changed her mind? Maybe the train clerk had been mistaken in identifying her, and maybe Charles had made the mistake of coming to Annesburg instead of Van Horn. It was too much of a fool's hope to be true.

"We could go down there and sniff around a little. Might be someone who knows where she'd hide out at least."

"Maybe you're right." Charles was willing enough to hang onto a fool's hope. He felt a little better getting all of this off his chest at least.

He didn't like doubting himself. He never felt his confidence flounder so badly, but Irene kept him off kilter, and he hardly knew what to think, or how to react since she'd left him without warning.

Charlotte started to clear the table until Arthur jumped up and took the dishes from her. She started to dispute his coddling, but Charles stopped listening, distracted by something else. Beyond the sound of their minor disagreement, he heard from outside multiple horses coming up the hill.

Charles stood, his attention on the front of the house. "You expecting anyone up here?"

Arthur and Charlotte dropped their disagreement and stilled at the sound of riders. Arthur said flatly, "No."

If they weren't expecting anyone, and Charles had pursuers only yesterday, he knew who it was. Damn.

"It's the bounty hunters. The ones who were on our tail yesterday. They must have spotted me in Annesburg and followed me here."

Arthur's expression shuttered, and he ordered, "Charlotte, grab Nora and get in the bedroom. Be ready to run if I say."

She moved across the room without disagreement, opening a cabinet and grabbing a satchel. She went to the bedroom where she'd put Nora down for her nap. The two had clearly planned for something like this.

"I'm sorry, Arthur." Charles apologized because this was just the kind of danger and attention he know Arthur had been avoiding since he'd turned his life around. He might have just ruined it for them in one day.

"We'll deal with it, like we always have. You ready?"

Charles nodded.

"I reckon, it ain't gonna be worth trying to reason with them."

Arthur was right. The type of men who went into this line of work did it solely for the money. With how stubborn they'd proven to be, Charles doubted talking would prevent this one from moving on to a new hunt.

He listened, hearing only one set of boots coming up the porch steps. The others could be waiting at their horses or sneaking around back. Charles didn't risk going to the window and making himself a target.

Arthur took a rifle off the wall, grabbing shells to load, before moving in front of the door. Charles took position to the side of the door, ready to launch himself at the bounty hunter on the other side of that wall.

Arthur shifted to the door, laying his hand on the knob, but pausing, tense. The bounty hunter knocked and Arthur swung the door open, ready to fight, ready to kill, if necessary.

Charles rushed the assailant, grabbing them before slamming them against the outside wall. In the process of his grapple, their hat was knocked off.

"Goddamnit!" came their curse. Charles got a bony punch to the gut before he realized he was face to face with Sadie Adler.

"Jesus Christ! What the hell's wrong with you, Smith?" Sadie spat out.

"Sadie?" He pulled back from her, releasing her. Sadie shook him off the rest of the way and he moved aside. He thought he'd heard multiple people, multiple horses. Not a single rider.

She complained, "Goddamn, Arthur. Next time it'll be booby traps with you two."

Arthur's strained expression disappeared, and he lowered his rifle when he saw who it was. "Can't be too careful these days, Sadie."

"You ain't wrong, but goddamn."

Arthur sent her a grin. "All in all, I'm surprised Charles got the jump on you."

"Shut up." She swept her arm down to pick up her hat from the ground. "Where's my niece?"

"Charlotte," Arthur called behind him, "it's just Sadie."

Charlotte came out of the front bedroom, dark-haired Nora in her arms, awake and sucking on her thumb. "Oh, hello, Sadie. You certainly gave us a fright."

"Sorry, you're all so damn jumpy." She stepped inside and held out her arms for Nora. "There's my big girl."

Charlotte passed the baby over obligingly while Charles stared, confused. "What...what are you doing here?"

Sadie snorted. "Same as you, I'd bet."

"I doubt that."

"Bounty hunting," she told him, matter-of-fact.

He tensed up. So he'd been right. There had been a bounty hunter at the door, but just not one he expected to know. There was some anger in his voice as he accused, "You're here for Irene?"

Sadie cast him a narrowed look. "I'm here for the lady on my poster. If that's what she calls herself these days, then, yeah. Thought she'd be an easier catch than the usual quarry. I found her horse abandoned so she must be close."

Charles turned around in the doorway, and saw two horses just as he'd heard. There were no other riders, but Falmouth stood next to Sadie's gold Turkoman. He followed Sadie inside and told her shortly, "She's not here."

"I'm willing to split the reward if you are," she offered, before she raked an assessing eye over him, shifting her attention from the child in her arms to him. "Unless...you ain't you protecting her, are you, Smith? You know she's good money."

"I am protecting her. Even from you."

"I mean..." Sadie's nose scrunched up. "I guess if she's a friend of yours, I can stop my own hunt, much as I'd be disappointed by the lack of payout. But I ain't the only one after her. That girl's been sought after for years. I won't be the last one you see."

"I know." He lowered his guard, as all his feelings came to a head. "But I love her."

"Damn." Sadie's eyes widened, clearly not expecting the admission. "Didn't think I'd ever see the day. Seems you've given Charles Smith the family bug, Arthur."

Maybe he had. Charles could see the life his friend was living, and he'd known for a long while he'd like to try it too. It had just taken some time for him to admit it to himself.

Arthur dropped an arm over Charlotte's shoulders, and she smiled up at him. "Best decision I ever made."

"So, this girl's snared you, huh?" Sadie eyed Charles with new interest. "But you sure you're gonna be able to handle her?"

In response, all his bottled up frustration came unleashed. "What the hell did she do to be hunted for so many years? Surely nothing worse than what Dutch got us into and we weren't pursued so viciously until he started messing up. She's just trying to live a normal life these days."

Nora whimpered at his raised voice, and Sadie glared at him. "Hey, don't get mad at me. I don't make the damn law. It's just a job."

"How much is it?" Arthur asked, and Charles shot him a glare.

"The price on her head just got raised to a thousand."

Arthur whistled. "Not bad."

Charles started to paced, angry, but trying not have another outburst so he wouldn't scare the child.

Charlotte suggested, "Why don't we all have a seat and discuss this with some civility?"

Charles couldn't sit. Sadie just reminded him why he needed to stick by Irene, why he needed to find her. If Sadie was right, and there were more bounty hunters actively pursuing her, she could be caught.

"Charles, do you even know why she's got posters up all over the country?"

He'd never asked. He hadn't needed to. "No. I've never seen one."

"Idiot." Sadie shook her head, causing Nora to take a sudden interest in her moving braid. "If you had, then you'd know, it ain't what she'd done, but who she is."

"What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes and produced a folded piece of paper from her back pocket with her free hand. "Just take a look at this."

He hesitated a second because, while it held all the answers he'd been careful not to push Irene for, he'd wanted her to tell him personally. He took the paper, but didn't unfold it. He didn't know if he was ready to know what Irene couldn't tell him herself.

"If you won't look, I'm gonna," Arthur said, prompting him to make a decision.

Charles steeled himself for the worst and opened the worn poster. At the bottom, he noticed right away the prominent lettering for the initial $100 reward and it almost stopped him from reading the rest. What sorts of bad things could she be capable of to warrant an award for her capture?

Sadie explained, "The poster's old, and the reward's more now, but this is the only one I could find with her likeness."

The rest of the poster confused him as he furrowed his brow, staring at the picture and then reading, trying to make sense of it. He had to read through it twice, and the information was still taking its time to process for him. First of it all, it wasn't a wanted poster, but a missing persons notice. For a little girl.

Irene had told him unhappily,"There are times I believe I'll never be free of my past."

"I don't understand."

"Ain't hard to understand, Smith," Sadie retorted, but he hardly heard her.

He read again:

REWARD!

ON THE 15TH ANNIVERSARY OF

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF PRINCESS

ISABEAU KATHARINA ZINSMEISTER

THE

GRAND DUCHY

OF LUXEMBOURG

IS OFFERING A REWARD OF

$100

FOR HER SAFE RETURN

TO THE AUTHORITIES

THE PRINCESS DISAPPEARED AT AGE 5 DURING A ROYAL VISIT

TO THE UNITED STATES IN JUNE OF 1884. SHE HAD BLONDE HAIR

AND BIRTHMARKS ON HER RIGHT HAND AND LEFT CHEEK

IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN HER TO

THE NEAREST SHERIFF'S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY

The girl pictured was young, but Charles saw the undeniable resemblance. The wide, bright eyes, the light-colored hair. But most telling, the description of the birthmark on her face and hand.

"It's only a mark I've had since I was very young," she'd said and he'd thought nothing of it. How could he have known?

Everything, everything he knew of Irene came crashing into place in his mind. Why she was so secretive of her identity, the kinds of people she was worried would find her, the need to apply make-up to her face, and why her pursuers would never stop. Yet, even then Charles struggled to make the full connection between this little girl on the poster and the Irene he knew until it was acknowledged out loud.

"Charles," Arthur shook his head in disbelief, reading over his shoulder. "You found yourself a goddamn princess."