ARTHUR'S POV

It was a warm, sunny morning at Clemens Point, made bearable by the low humidity. But Arthur knew he'd be done by noon. He left at the crack of dawn to get his day started, but he knew John and Hosea wouldn't be where they planned to meet just yet, so he stopped in town for a few things and to kill some time.

Rhodes was a peculiar town with a very peculiar history, mostly a secret to newcomers. The people were strange, and hell, even the animals were strange. But it was a decent place to visit unlike Valentine. He asked the shopkeeper for the time then left to meet up with John and Hosea, just Northeast of camp. He found it odd they had Abigail relay the message, but nothing was really a secret anymore. He left Rhodes; tipping his hat to a few of the locals, which earned him looks of scorn.

He couldn't help chuckling to himself. "Strange folks."

He urged Bleu into a canter, steadying him once they were out of town. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble or draw any unwanted attention to himself. It's bad enough they were new - that naturally drew in unwanted attention. Before long, he arrived at the location he was said to meet them. And if it wasn't for Old Boy and Silver Dollar near the treeline, he would've had a hard time finding them. So he left Bleu to graze with his friends, while he snuck into the trees to meet them.

"Hey Arthur."

"What're you doing?"

Hosea glanced over his shoulder. "Selling it back to where it came from."

He snorted. "Uh, why?"

"Well I ain't gotta market for it. They made it, they must have someone to sell it to," He hoisted a jug into the wagon. "Stuff looked kinda lonely out here. I think we'll cut ourselves a nice deal."

"Ohh, I get ya."

"You and Dutch was just doing your duty when you requisitioned it–" He explained, settling himself in the wagon. "Now I'm doing mine."

Arthur climbed up on the bench beside him and took the reins.

"Alright!" John rasped. "All loaded. I should get goin' now. Good luck!"

"Thank you, John! We'll see you later," Hosea turned to Arthur. "Dutch asked him to look into something; the Braithwaite's horses, I think."

"Horses now? Okay."

"Alright, let's head out to the Braithwaite's place. You know it?"

"Yeah…I've heard of it," He shrugged. "So what exactly are we doing? I mean, this is the moonshine we took after blowing the still, right?"

"I think the good citizens taking the trouble to return their stolen goods deserves some award, don't you?" He cleared his throat. "And it's time we make a formal introduction, like Dutch said. I know these are two big old plantation houses and all I keep hearing is they hate each other so much they can't see past it."

"I know some about it. Ethan told me there's this Gray boy and Braithwaite girl carrying on some secret affair…he's been helping them, I think."

"The mind boggles–" Hosea teased. "You think they're of any use?"

"Not sure. He said they don't seem too involved with whatever their families are doin', but maybe."

"Well, I'm sure there's money in this for us somewhere, if we can get in the middle of it."

As they rolled up to the gates of Braithwaite manor, Arthur slowed the wagon down, not wanting to stir up any trouble. And before they crossed under the archway, the Braithwaite guards stopped them.

"Hello Gentlemen, how are you?" Hosea said, putting on his best facade.

"What's that in the back there?"

Hosea glanced over his shoulder. "Moonshine, my fine fellow! Uh, may I have a word with the man of the house?"

"The man is a lady; Mrs. Catherine Braithwaite."

"May I speak with her then? I want to discuss a business opportunity," He raised his hands. "I mean no harm. You may happily shoot me if I do."

The guard nodded. "Okay, okay. She's at the house."

Another guard hopped in the back of the wagon, as Arthur snapped the reins, slowly rolling under the arch onto the other side of the property.

"We'll be watching you." The guard warned.

They rolled down the rough pathway up to the house. Arthur was convinced this place was run down; the grass was overgrown and the siding of the house was covered in dust and moss. Otherwise, it was a gorgeous place, standing tall and proud over their fields.

The front doors flung open and an older woman stepped out onto the porch. "What you want?"

Hosea stood up. "Uh, found something…out in the hills. And I thought maybe you was in the market for it."

Hosea and Arthur climbed down from the wagon and walked around the horses.

"For what?"

"Some liquor."

"I ain't in the market for what's already mine!"

Hosea shrugged. "The way we see it, it's ours. What with us possessing it, and I checked all over and for the life of me I couldn't see your name on it."

As they neared the porch, the doors opened again and some burly looking men appeared behind Mrs. Braithwaite, shotguns in each hand.

"Oh…relax, I ain't here to rob you, though it seems that's easy enough," He waved his hand. "I wanna make a deal; what do you sell that stuff for?"

"A dollar a bottle." She snarled.

"Then give us 50 cents." Hosea countered.

"It's already ours!"

"Look at it as our reward for finding stolen property," He glanced over his shoulder. "Alternative is we go and sell it someplace else."

"The alternative is you get shot." A man in a blue coat said from behind.

Hosea raised his hands. "Who wants to get shot over a bottle or two of liquor?"

The man raised the shotgun, but Mrs. Braithwaite gripped the barrel. "Pay the man."

She took the gun from his hands and slowly lowered it to the ground beside her. She stood her ground until all the men dispersed. The man in the blue coat walked to the top of the steps and tossed Hosea a stack of cash, then turned with another word or threat and entered the house.

Hosea nodded his head. "Pleasure doing business with you. And listen, we didn't take it…least not without orders from–"

"Oh, I know exactly who gave you your orders–" She pointed her finger. "Old Sheriff Gray! You know what? I don't want it. In fact, sir, now you can do me a favor. There's an extra ten bucks if you do. Drive this stuff into Rhodes and head over to the tavern run by Mr. Gray and give the stuff out for free!"

"Momma–"

"Hush!" She bit back. "Now I believe that is what you call a promotional expense."

Hosea chuckled. "As you wish, ma'am."

"You boys come back sometimes and tell me how you made out–" She shoved a man out of her way. "And maybe we'll play a little cribbage."

They hurried back down the way they came and climbed up in the stolen wagon, full of stolen - now free, goods.

"Alright, next stop; the Rhodes saloon."

Arthur grabbed the reins. "Here we go."

The wagon made a sharp right after they left the plantation, up a hill and around the bend. Hosea grew quiet which was never good. It meant he was thinking and whenever he was thinking, they were about to find themselves in some trouble…or trouble was about to find them.

"Alright…this could get ugly," He finally said. "Now we're inserting ourselves in this blood feud. So…we'll need something–"

"I ain't playin' dress up. You know how I feel about that."

"Of course you're not. You're a…you're a clown's idiot brother."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Hosea, please."

"Don't worry I'm the clown. You're just the brother turned idiot. Just…look sad and keep quiet. Even you can do that, Arthur."

"Do I have to? I mean, I'm a little old for all this. You shoulda asked Ethan to come along."

Ignoring Arthur's displeasure, Hosea turned and placed a straw hat on his head. Arthur huffed and tried pushing his hands away, but it only made things worse.

"Here, smoke this pipe," He placed the pipe between his lips. "Bring your lip forward a bit, now…squint."

Arthur shook his head, feeling incredibly stupid in this getup. But Hosea and Dutch were always doing this kind of thing to him and John, so it wasn't that strange. It was just unnecessary.

"Now you can't speak; you're an idiot."

He huffed.

"Now, now, Fenton, don't get mad now."

Arthur ignored Hosea and his new alias, and snapped the reins. The wagon lurched forward as they neared the saloon. He felt like a fool, but he knew there was a greater purpose for his…new fashion. He couldn't be recognized. As they neared the saloon, Arthur slowed the wagon down and turned around back, where they'd unload and begin selling. At least he wouldn't have to do anything but stand there and look dumb; he was good at that.

"Okay Fenton, stay calm now! For momma, she loved you so–" Hosea reached behind him. "Just uh, a shame you had to strangle her in a fit of rage, right?"

Arthur hopped down off the wagon and walked around back. Hosea hopped down holding a jug of moonshine.

"Grab a jug and follow me."

He unlatched the back of the wagon and began collecting the jugs. All he knew is that this job better pay well. He didn't take too kindly to this sort of humiliation.

He grabbed a crate of moonshine and followed Hosea. "Gentlemen!" He waved his hand. "Quite the town you have here. We just arrived from up North."

"Hey."

Hosea nodded. "Hello! I'm Melvin. This is my brother, Fenton. Don't mind him, he's just turned into an idiot - killed our mother, but it weren't his fault."

Arthur was irritated at this point; playing dress up was one thing, but playing dress up and lugging around a heavy crate full of moonshine was another.

"How'd you boys like a couple of bucks?" He pulled out his wad of money and began counting out a few dollars. "I bet you would…here, one for each of yous. We're in the new trade of advertising, which is an American art form about ensuring people buy the correct things."

"I don't know–"

"Here, one more dollar says give us a half an hour. What harm can we do in a half an hour?" Hosea laughed. "Go along now…enjoy the money!"

Hosea picked up his jug of moonshine and entered the back of the saloon, calling out his alias. And Arthur followed like the pathetic sad sap that he was. As they walked through the narrow hallway in the back, they could hear the piano playing a lively tune.

Hosea peered through the saloon doors, as Arthur crept down the hall to the other door that opened behind the bar.

"Gentlemen!" Hosea called out. "Gentlemen!"

All noise in the saloon came to an abrupt halt, and everyone turned to face the stranger. Hosea placed the jug of moonshine on the bar, then took the floor.

"My name is Melvin!" He pointed at Arthur. "And that's my brother Fenton…he's a bit funny, but boy can he pour drinks fast. So, for the next thirty minutes, the drinks in this here saloon, in this here town are free!"

Everyone cheered.

"The only rule is you gotta drink them, so put old Fenton to work!" He chuckled. "Don't get him mad though, his momma made him mad and we buried her."

A horde of drunken patrons came to the bar to claim their free liquor. Arthur grumbled under his breath as he poured drink after drink, one, two, three, repeat. The pianist began another lively tune as Hosea encouraged them to get their free drinks. Arthur was starting to feel the pressure, as they began to grow very demanding.

Pour, slam, pour, slam, pour, slam.

"I'll have one Fenton."

Pour, slam.

"Me too!"

Pour, slam!

"Ah, that's some strong stuff!"

Arthur…or, Fenton, lined up some glasses and emptied the bottle of moonshine. He slid the glasses down the bar one by one, putting on a show for everyone.

"Mr. Gray won't be happy about this."

"Hey, keep 'em coming!"

"Fenton, open another bottle!" Hosea instructed.

"Where's mine then?" Someone complained.

Arthur was beyond irritated by this point, he was now bordering on irate. But he was trying to stay calm so he didn't blow his cover, although…Fenton was supposed to be a mean idiot who killed his momma, so maybe his anger would help convince the masses.

"You're a fine man, Fenton, a fine man. Don't listen to your brother!"

"Over here, Fenton!"

The patrons of the saloon started getting rowdy as time went on; drinking, dancing and shouting. Arthur was actually enjoying playing dress up for once. He didn't have to say anything and people feared him.

"My wife is gonna kill me," The man chuckled. "I only went out to get milk."

"Hey, send a couple down this way!"

"Drink up folks, or you'll make Fenton mad!" Hosea…er, Melvin, shouted.

As the music grew louder, everyone paired off and began to dance. Married men danced with other married men, with ladies, some with two and three ladies. It was really…strange, but Arthur was beginning to enjoy himself. And just as Arthur poured the last drink, the saloon doors burst open and in came a few Lemoyne Raiders.

Hosea stopped halfway on the stairs, hands raised.

"Quiet libation?"

"You."

He pointed to himself. "Me?"

"You're the bastards that stole the liquor we was gonna buy!"

"Gentlemen, we're in advertising. Come on in and have a drink."

"That's our goddamn liquor!"

"It was an honest mistake–"

"GET 'EM BOYS!"

Arthur ripped his pistol from his holster and ducked behind the bar; his hat and pipe now long forgotten somewhere on the floor. After the first few bullets flew, Arthur stood, aimed and fired; one bullet for two men. He ducked back behind the bar, as he awaited his next turn.

He stood back up and began shooting, hitting his intended targets with precision. He ducked back behind the bar and began reloading his pistol. Bullets flew and grazed chunks out of the bar, dust began to cloud the saloon, making it extremely difficult to see.

Arthur took out the gunman on the stairs, taking out half the railing along with him. He stood up and in the midst of gunfire, aimed and took out a gunman near the piano. He fell back and crashed through the window. Another gunman aimed his shotgun, but Arthur shot him point blank between the eyes.

He was glad Hosea was here, because it helped having a little backup, even though the old man was up on the balcony looking down.

"Where are you, Arthur?"

He glanced up at the balcony, and picked off a few gunmen. A few fell from the balcony to the saloon floor, landing with a heavy thud. If the bullet didn't kill them, the fall sure as hell did.

"Arthur, c'mon!"

He finished off a few of the gunmen, then jumped over the bar and took to the stairs. Shooters from the outside tried taking him out, and he felt the bullets whizz by him; grazing his legs and arms, nicking his hat. When he got to the balcony, the doors flung open and a man had his gun aimed and ready to shoot, only it jammed.

Arthur rushed over and pistol whipped him across the face, then shot him in the heart. As he turned around, another gunman was standing at the top of the stairs. He pulled the trigger and Arthur ducked; the bullet embedded in the door behind him.

He aimed his pistol and shot the man right between the eyes, sending him down the stairs and over the railing.

"Arthur!" Hosea called. "Do something!"

He rounded the balcony and saw a man trying to choke Hosea. He aimed his gun and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through the man's temple. The man fell to the floor with a thud, and Hosea crashed into the wall behind him.

"You alright?" Arthur asked.

"No time for that. This way!" He waved his hand.

The doors to the balcony burst open and Lemoyne Raiders flooded the second floor. Arthur ducked behind a table as he and Hosea took them out one by one. Arthur peered around the bullet ridden table and shot a man between the eyes. His rifle went flying as he fell backwards into the railing, then over to the ground below.

"Nice shot, Arthur!" Hosea rounded the corner. "Let's go."

A Lemoyne Raider barreled up the stairs and attacked Hosea, but before Arthur could shoot, they both toppled over the railing and into the back of the wagon. Arthur ran over and looked down, squinting as he tried to see who was who; he didn't want to make a fatal mistake, like shooting the wrong person.

Then he saw Hosea's gold pocket watch glisten in the moonlight and he suddenly knew who was who. So he aimed his pistol and shot the raider in the back. Hosea scrambled to his feet as he climbed into the front of the wagon.

"C'mon…Fenton."

Arthur hoisted himself over the railing and landed in the back of the wagon. The momentum had him nearly falling on his face, but he managed to climb in the front.

"Stop that wagon!"

And just as he sat down, Hosea snapped the reins and the wagon suddenly lurched forward. Shots still rang out as the wagon traversed the dirt terrain.

"I'm gettin' us outta here!" Hosea announced.

"They ain't gonna let this go, are they?"

Arthur popped off a few rounds as they drove away from the saloon; a warning or a death blow, he wasn't exactly sure yet. A rider suddenly appeared from behind, shouting that they found them. Arthur glanced over his shoulder, aimed, pulled the trigger and watched him fall off his horse.

"There's gonna be more coming after us," Hosea warned. "You shoot first, don't second guess it. Anyone that's riding, shoot 'em."

"I see them."

"Well shoot them, then!"

Arthur stood up on the bench and began shooting, just as more raiders came out of seemingly nowhere. Hosea ducked before the raider could take him out; Arthur made sure to end it before they ended them.

"Behind us, Arthur! The alleyway!"

The wagon did a roundabout in the town square, before turning down the trail out behind the general store. A bullet pierced a bottle of moonshine, creating a little explosion in the back of the wagon. Arthur began shooting and watched as a bullet took out two raiders.

They went down a small inclement, which gave Arthur a chance to reload. They could hear distant gunfire and screams, and they thought they were safe the further they drove away, but more raiders came out from the shadows. Off to Arthur's right stood a raider with a rifle, and without hesitation, put a bullet between his eyes.

The body immediately went limp and fell in the tall wheat grass. But there was no victory just yet, as more raiders on horseback charged them from behind, brandishing their gun of choice. Arthur was dangerously low on ammo, so each bullet had to count; one in the head a piece.

He shot the one closest to them, who was aiming for Hosea's head. He put a bullet in his and watched him fall to the ground. Another raider charged them from down the hill. Arthur put a bullet in his throat and watched him clutch his neck, before falling off his horse.

"Watch out, there's more!"

"I'm gettin' tired, Hosea!" Arthur called out.

The wagon made a sharp turn to the right, jostling the bottles of moonshine and Arthur. He managed to collect himself though, but was unsure if the same could be said for the liquor. As more raiders charged them, Arthur popped off round after round, taking them down without so much as breaking a sweat.

"Oh shit! Train!"

"I see it!" Hosea snapped the reins.

Arthur sat down just as they crossed the tracks. Bullets still flew in the air as the train put a momentary barrier between them and the raiders, but safety was all an illusion. As they crossed the bridge, raiders were waiting for them on the other side. Arthur took them out before they even got there.

They crossed over into the meadow towards the tracks, as Arthur took out a raider that was running off. He, either got the message, or he was out of bullets.

"Hey! You think you can steal from us?"

Arthur glanced over his shoulder. "Shut up!"

He pulled the trigger and watched the man crash to the ground and tumble a few times. He turned back around and aimed his revolver at the raider on the train. And when they came into view, he pulled the trigger.

"Right ahead of you!"

"Jesus Christ!" Arthur bemoaned.

The lantern illuminated the raider and gave Arthur a better vantage point. He shot him once and hoped it was his head because he was almost out of bullets. His gun clicked, signaling that he was, in fact, out of bullets. He sat back down on the bench, his revolver smoking.

"I think that's it."

"I sure as hell hope so!"

Hosea kept the horses at a steady canter, which made for a bumpy ride, but without any ammo and stolen booze, they were sitting ducks. The faster they got to where they needed to be and then back to camp, the safer they were.

"Can't believe this is all over a few bottles of booze?"

"I reckon it's more that they don't want another gang on their patch."

"Makes sense, I guess."

Hosea pulled the wagon off the road down in some tall grass, amongst the trees and overgrown brush. This made it easier to hide in plain sight.

"Remind me to never take up a career in…whatever this was–"

"Advertising."

"Yeah, advertising," Arthur scoffed. "You think that woman set us up?"

"No, I don't think so–" He stopped the wagon and turned to Arthur. "Maybe…this place is odd."

Arthur nodded. "I keep seein' those fellers. Ethan and Mrs. Adler had a run in with 'em too the other day."

"Some local militia. Clearly not happy to have some new competition," Hosea looked at the leather reins. "I'll go visit old ma Braithwaite, and see what's what."

"Why?"

"We've been making money - the chest is filling up again. Part of me thinks we should just let ourselves get good and lost, but we still need a lot more money before that can happen," He rested his arms over his knees. "So, for now…let me go give old Mrs. Braithwaite some of this moonshine as well…let's call it a peace offering."

Arthur glanced down at the jugs of shine - the ones that made it anyway. Arthur nodded, tapped Hosea on the arm, then hopped off the wagon.

"Sounds good."

"That was fun, Fenton!" Hosea teased with a mocking tone. "We'll make an actor of you yet!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, as he watched Hosea leave.

"I'll talk to Dutch!" He called out.

…

After about an hour of trudging through the woods, trying to make himself as scarce as possible, he finally made it back to camp. Everyone was just settling down for the night, except Dutch and Micah, who were sitting just outside his tent.

"So? What do you think?"

"No hello, glad you're back, where you been all day?" Arthur shook his head. "What do I think about what?"

"The fine folks in these here parts."

He gripped his belt. "Oh…real nice."

"Exactly," He looked up at Arthur. "On one side we have got the Gray family. Scots, degenerates…drunkards. The local law…you can't make this stuff up. Rich as croesus. And on the other side, their mortal enemies, the Braithwaite's. Moonshiners. Hypocritical both rolling, we believe–"

"In gold." Micah added.

"And in the middle of it all you've got some inbred retelling of Romeo and Juliet." Arthur said, referencing what Ethan told him.

"Exactly." Dutch chuckled.

"So uh, what you boys thinking?"

Micah held up his hands. "We try to rob them both."

Arthur looked to Dutch. "You sure?"

"Why not?"

"Because we got lawmen in three different states after us."

Dutch held up his finger. "Last thing I want is to get us into trouble, but we need money. Now we have the opportunity here to put ourselves in the middle of something ain't nobody gonna know we was here. Because even without us these fools are gonna kill each other anyway!"

"Okay well…Hosea's gone back to see the Braithwaite woman."

"Good. Hosea should definitely take the lead on this one," Dutch stood up from his chair. "I sent Sean over to the Braithwaite manor too. Now I'm thinking you and Ethan can meet up with them, or join John and Javier at the Gray's place…something to do with the Braithwaites' prize horses."

"How the hell did we get an in at the Gray's place?"

"Sheriff Gray kindly put in a word with his father–" Dutch placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "It ain't that complicated."

Arthur shrugged his hand away.

"We've got to convince each family that we're on their side," He breathed a laugh. "And then we rob 'em both, before they figure out it was us that done it. And by the time they find out, we'll be long gone. Think of it as payback for my daddy."

"Payback?" Arthur questioned.

Dutch nodded.

"I ain't in the revenge business, Dutch, and neither is my son. Least of all, for something that happened a long time ago."

"Well…I guess we all gotta pay for something–" He turned and headed for his tent. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Arthur. I have to write a letter."

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced before he could. He shook his head, dejected, as he was now faced with something he didn't want to do.