"Hey pa–" Ethan greeted.
"Son," Arthur tipped his hat. "How'd it go last night?"
"Eh, it was longer to wait for them to hit the sack than to steal the coach," Ethan shrugged. "How was fishin' with Jack?"
Arthur's face, full of content, quickly fell stoic. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
"I wish it'd just been a day's fishing. Someone, or I should say, two someone's, showed up."
"Who?"
"Pinkertons."
"Pinkertons?" Ethan repeated. "Is Jack–"
"He's fine. They just did a little harassing." He assured.
"What did they want?"
"I reckon between the Strawberry thing and a few other things, they had enough evidence to go sniffin' around."
"Do you think the train heist caught their attention?" He asked. "Why'd they let you go anyway? Not that I'm complaining, just wondering."
"Nah, I don't think so," Arthur sipped his cup of coffee. "They wanted me to turn Dutch in. They asked for good money too."
"They don't know we're here, do they?"
Arthur balked. "I don't think so. If they did, we'd have a whole mess of 'em here right now, not just those two."
"What did Dutch say?"
"Said to sit tight. He figures they know we're close by, but they don't know where."
Ethan looked down.
"I know how it sounds," He heaved a sigh. "We'll be fine, so don't go overthinkin' it–"
"Will we really?"
"Well…we've been in worse, so we'll be fine."
"Let's hope that plan of Dutch's works."
"I told you not to read into it, didn't I?" He reminded, then waved his hand. "So, uh, what plans do you have for the day?"
"Oh, about that–" Ethan blushed, kicking his boot. "I was thinking of asking Mary-Beth out to dinner–"
"Finally brave enough are ya?"
Ethan blushed again. "C'mon, pops."
Arthur chuckled. "Well, good luck. You two have my blessings."
"Good to know," Ethan nodded. "What are your plans for the day?"
"Eh, John has a job in Valentine, and he asked if I'd go along–" Arthur explained. "Not sure what his half a brain came up with, but we shall see."
Ethan smirked. "Easy there, ol' man."
"Need any money?"
"Nah, I'm good," Ethan shook his head. "I got my share from the heist."
"It wasn't a gift, it was a loan–" Arthur teased. "In all seriousness, good luck."
"Thanks, pa."
Ethan went to his tent for the small wad of bills he'd acquired the night before. He walked over to the mirror, adjusted his hair and ran a hand over his beard. All things considered, he didn't look too bad. The young outlaw wandered the camp in search of Mary-Beth, and it wasn't until he ventured on the outskirts that he found her; under a large tree, and all of her attention was given to a book. As Ethan approached her, he saw her writing with the fountain pen that he gave her.
His footsteps quickly gave him away, perhaps his subtle way of stealing her attention rather than disturbing her. Mary-Beth looked up from her journal and saw Ethan approaching her. She quickly put away her journal, hiding it behind her back.
"Hey." She greeted.
"Hey."
She watched him as he rocked back and forth on his feet, arms swaying beside him. He wanted to say something, that much she could tell, but he was nervous or shy, she guessed.
"Sooooo–" Ethan heaved a sigh. "Would you like to go to town with me today?"
"Of course! I could use the getaway." She replied, smiling.
"Really?" He cleared his throat. "Well great, yeah, whenever - whenever you wanna go."
He stood there awkwardly, arms behind his back, too stunned to do anything but look like a fool.
"So?"
"So…oh-um, do you want to go to Valentine with me?" Ethan stuttered and stammered. "I know it's not the best but it's the safest and closest-"
"That's fine, Ethan. I gotta be back by dusk anyway - Miss Grimshaw'll have a fit if I'm late."
Ethan smiled and extended his hand to Mary-Beth - she took his hand and stood from the ground, her journal tucked protectively behind her back. They walked hand in hand back to camp. When they got to camp, Ethan pecked Mary-Beth's cheek and hurried to get Gray saddled up. Mary-Beth hurried off to her tent to freshen up.
To his good fortune or the fact that Miss Grimshaw had a soft spot for him, she was going to permit Mary-Beth to leave for the afternoon.
"Want me to carry something?" Ethan asked.
Mary-Beth cautiously approached Ethan's horse, Gray. She was embarrassed to admit that she didn't know how to really ride a horse, even though everyone in camp had the experience, she just never thought to ask them to teach her.
"Oh no, I already have everything with me," She paused. "What is it?"
Ethan nodded at Gray. "I think that's the first time I've ever seen him so calm with someone he doesn't know. He doesn't even like my pa very much."
"Really?" She asked. "I didn't know he was skittish of strangers."
"Well, I guess you're no stranger then."
Ethan mounted Gray and lent a hand, as Mary-Beth climbed up on a tree stump. She hopped up on the back of Gray and wrapped her arms around his waist, tightening her arms around him. They traveled along the river's edge for a while, enjoying what little solitude they still had left.
Back at camp, having any kind of moment alone would never happen. There was always an interruption.
"You haven't been to Valentine in a while, huh?"
"No, not since we last went with Uncle and the girls."
He shrugged. "I suppose you wouldn't have had anyone to bring you."
"Uncle, but I doubt he could drive a wagon in his condition."
"I'm sure you could've taken over for him if he needed some help."
She snickered. "First I have to master riding a horse properly."
"Well Gray already likes you, so if ya want…I could always teach you?"
"I'd love that!" She exclaimed. "Thank you."
"Oh, you don't have to tha...I mean–" Ethan huffed, smirking. "I mean, I was waiting for the right moment to ask you, and the opportunity finally arose–"
"I mean you did save me from Miss Grimshaw too," She giggled. "I think she woke up in a bad mood today anyway."
"She always wakes up in a bad mood," He shrugged again. "I guess this life really roughed her up."
"Miss Gaskill, if you don't know how to fold a tablecloth, I don't understand how you can call yourself a woman?" Mary-Beth mimicked.
Ethan chuckled.
"Oh Miss Gaskill, why don't you get your nose out of those silly books and do something worthwhile for one."
He waved his hand. "I'm beginning to wonder how I missed all these interactions?"
"I understand that without her, we all would've died long ago–" Mary-Beth teased. "But she doesn't have to be so demanding."
He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for the insult he was sure to come. And it seemed as if she read his mind.
"I don't insult!" She breathed a laugh.
He laughed. "That's fine by me…hey, at least you won't be seeing her all day."
"Yes you're my hero, Ethan Morgan!" She exclaimed.
"Heh well, I try."
"Hey, I forgot to ask, how'd it go with the heist?" She asked. "I didn't really see anyone celebrating…other than Sean."
"He wasn't supposed to be there, but he was definitely needed when the shooting started." Ethan explained.
Mary-Beth grew quiet once she heard that there was shooting. Obviously she knew there would be some, but he made it seem worse than she imagined it.
"Everything went fine, no problems. I mean, Sean was reckless as usual, but we did fine–" He held out his hand. "Obviously…I'm still here."
She smiled. "Glad to hear it."
"Yeah…I reckon it got better at the end–" Ethan said, watching as Valentine emerged from the distance.
"I overheard Arthur and Dutch talking about some Pinkertons yesterday. Did something happen?"
Ethan hoped no one else had heard that conversation, but Mary-Beth had very keen ears; she wrote down everything she heard, turning what she knew into a story.
Ethan shrugged. "Oh just a couple of Pinkertons came across my Pa and Jack. They were trying to convince him to turn in Dutch."
"Really?"
"Yeah, Dutch told him that everything will be fine as long as we keep a low profile."
"Do you think we should leave camp?"
"I don't know. I think if it was serious, we would've moved already."
Gray crossed the railroad tracks; the fictitious border between the wild west and the civilized town of Valentine. It wasn't sophisticated and civilized like Saint Denis was, but acting like an animal in the streets would definitely land a person in jail.
"It sure is busy today–" She observed.
"They must be coming for the cattle auction–" Ethan explained. "Maybe avoid breathing in too deep."
"Oh, I'll gladly take your advice," She breathed a laugh. "But it doesn't really smell any different than last time we were here."
Ethan slowed Gray down in front of the General Store, jumped down and tied him to the post; he walked back over and helped Mary-Beth down.
"Thank you," She blushed. "So, what do you want to do first?"
"Hm, whatever you want," Ethan shrugged. "I don't think we can go to the saloon just yet, not after me and Lenny–"
"Did you two get into a fight?"
"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, I don't think so?" Ethan sighed. "I don't remember much to be honest."
"Ah…well that's a valid reason then–" She teased. "I saw there were some tents in front of the scaffold; maybe they'll have something?"
"Sure…then if ya want, we can go shopping at the General Store."
"Really?" She beamed. "That's really…thank you!"
"You don't have to thank me." He insisted.
"Well, I feel like I should thank you. It's been ages since I went shopping for myself."
"I'm glad that I can help."
The pair crossed the muddy street of Valentine, blending in with the many travelers and shoppers, like they were one of them.
ARTHUR'S POV
After he finished breakfast, Arthur left for Valentine. Leaving early would ensure his travels would be in peace and quiet, not bombarded by someone wanting to tag along; he would use this time wisely to clear his mind. The gang was so far East that they were hitting civilization, and beginning to suffer the consequences, as it was getting harder and harder to stay out of trouble. It was the last thing they wanted, but as Dutch put it; sometimes it's best to hide in plain sight. As Arthur made it to town, crossing the tracks after a train departed, he saw John waiting for him up ahead. He was leaning against the wooden fence of the sheep corral.
"Feeling better? How's the scar?" Arthur asked, approaching from behind.
John glanced over his shoulder. "I heal pretty fast."
"Lucky you. So, you just lazing about or do you have any leads?"
"Got something right here. You see 'em?"
John jutted his chin towards the sheep, as more were being corralled inside.
"See yourself as a shepherd now, do ya?"
He shrugged. "Maybe...come on."
Arthur obliged and followed John away from the corral and over to the horses.
"So where are we going?" He asked.
"Collecting something to help us get some sheep."
Arthur chuckled. "Heh, you know that attempt to seem all enigmatic and interesting? Well that might work for Dutch, but for you...it just makes you look stupid."
"Come along, Arthur, you'll see. That train job was a start, but we need more money," John explained. "Til' we can go back to Blackwater and collect."
Arthur gripped Bleu's reins tighter. "If we try to collect that money any time soon, it'll come with a noose around our necks."
"I was worried you'd say that," John heaved a sigh. "Dutch says that we–"
"Dutch says a lot of things–" Arthur grumbled. "That's his gift...saying things."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I was the prize pony once; now I'm the workhorse."
Arthur thought about his words for a moment, reliving his past, as much as he didn't want to; it was still a part of him and who he was.
"Listen Dutch is...well...you were at that thing in Blackwater, and we've already seen Pinkertons here. The new century's coming, and this life, this way - well, we're the last, I reckon, and we ain't long for it."
John shrugged. "Then that's the way it goes, I guess."
"For me, yes."
"Alright."
"So where are we going?"
"Just need to pick up something first," John reminded. "Tether the horses, and I'll meet you across the street."
Arthur looked up and quickly realized where John had taken him.
"I already don't like how this is going; the gun store?"
"Head on in and pick up a rifle? I'll explain later."
Arthur entered the gun store against his will; he didn't think it was a good idea, seeing as all the trouble they've been causing. The situation was a little precarious, but after buying the Rolling Block Rifle on credit - something that displeased the salesman, the cowboy came out with the weapon slung over his shoulder.
"You good?" John asked.
"Sure am."
Once they mounted their horses, they left the muddy streets of Valentine and civilization. It was where Arthur truly felt at home.
"Why couldn't you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Back there–" Arthur tossed his thumb over his shoulder. "At the gun store. Why'd I have to buy the gun?"
"Oh…well I had a run-in with that fella, so we ain't on the best of terms."
"You had a run-in? I've had a run-in with half that town, but I still do my business there."
"Calm down–" John huffed. "It's over now, ain't it?"
"Why are you being so cagey?" Arthur demanded. "Always playing some goddamn game–"
"I ain't the one taking Jack on fishing trips!" John snapped.
"No, you ain't–" He reminded. "If you say the boy ain't yours, what's the difference? You'll probably only run off again."
"Why are you so interested in my life? Ain't you got one of your own? Ain't you got a kid of your own?"
"Don't bring Ethan into this, it ain't about him," He shook his head. "Just do one thing or another, don't be two people at once, that's all I'm saying."
"It ain't that simple," John argued. "You know that as well as anyone. It's just like you and Mary–"
"That was different."
"No," He scoffed. "It's the same damn thing."
Arthur heaved a heavy sigh, trying to put the conversation behind him. It wouldn't be an easy thing for either one to continue to talk about, even as similar and different as they both may be. But he was beginning to see the relationship that John and Jack had, because it mirrored his relationship with his own son.
"Anyway, will you tell me what you got me doing here before I turn around and hit the breeze?"
"There's a herd of sheep coming down to auction from Emerald Ranch; folks in town were saying that the owner's trying to stamp out every farm from here to Annesburg. You know that place?
"Yeah, Ethan and Hosea were just there last night."
"Okay then, let's head up to the ridge and get a proper view. So I'm thinking that the herd'll make it to auction alright, but, a couple of new ranch hands'll be collecting the sale; doubt the town will even care to notice."
"Okay, so why do we need the rifle?" Arthur asked.
"Reckon we shouldn't get too close, at least not till we know what we're dealing with. Let's see what we can see from up there."
The duo rode through the valley and up to the top of a remote, steep hill, which overlooked a rocky road that cut through the green plains of the Heartlands.
"So, how's Ethan?" John asked, looking through a pair of binoculars.
"Why'd you ask?"
"Can't I ask?"
He shrugged. "He's fine - should be in Valentine with Mary-Beth right now."
"They've been getting pretty close. You think she'll make him leave the gang?"
"Nah," He shook his head. "They're just courtin', and besides, I know my son–"
Arthur doubted his own words for a moment; perhaps the magnitude of the situation was even greater than him? Ethan was young and vulnerable, and while he deserved to be close to his family, he also deserved to have a life of his own. He sometimes thought about how Mary would have raised Ethan and what he'd be like?
He even wondered if maybe he should've given Ethan up to another family, who would've raised him better than he ever could. All that went away when he realized he would've missed out on an amazing boy, who grew into an amazing man. Yes he was an outlaw, but he was an outlaw with a heart and a conscience.
And that's all he could ever ask for.
"I think that's them over there–" John pointed.
Arthur pulled the newly purchased rifle out from the saddle holster, then returned to his binoculars. Off in the distance, the cowboy caught a glimpse of a few herders rounding the bend, as they pushed the sheep forward. As the seconds ticked by, Arthur readied his gun.
"So what now?" Arthur asked.
"Put a shot in near them, I reckon they'll hightail it–" John argued. "They're only ranch hands, they just watch the sheep."
Arthur pointed the rifle in front of the herd, a little ahead of the ranch hands. He pulled the trigger and a moment later, the ground erupted with dust. The ranch hands tried to calm their frantic horses, and the sheep, who'd taken off in every direction.
He snickered. "Looks like one of them don't scare too easy."
"Put another shot in close, he'll get the message."
Arthur eyed the sheep herder, who looked around for the culprit. Arthur fired his gun again, but it wasn't enough. So Arthur took drastic measures and rode down a little closer, with the hope that from a different vantage point, he may actually get the shot he wanted. And sure enough, he was able to take the shot.
"Yep, that'll do it. Alright, let's go round 'em up."
Arthur and John rode down to the location and while John rounded up the herd, Arthur went for the strays. And soon, he was able to reunite them with the rest.
"Have you ever worked on a ranch, Marston?" Arthur asked.
"No. You?"
"Oh, a day here or there, but not much."
"Well, most cowboys I know are dumb as rocks," John countered. "How hard can it be?"
"I guess we'll find out pretty soon," Arthur chuckled. "Let's get these sons of bitches back to the yard."
"They're still pretty scattered," John noted. "Let's get 'em all rounded up."
"Nah, I think we got 'em all. Let's head back to town."
"Leave the negotiating to me," He suggested. "Hang back, keep watch for any trouble."
"Hey, I brought you in on this."
"Yeah, but It'll be quicker this way, trust me," He assured. "This ain't the right time for you to be learning."
"Whatever you say, I'm done arguing with you," John pointed up ahead. "Quickest route back to Valentine is right round the mountain."
"Alright, let's go."
Keeping the herd together was not an easy task. There were around a hundred sheep or so, and Arthur had to stay behind to make sure they didn't stray. And he was doing a good job, but every once in a while, one would stray too far and he'd have to run it down.
He had time to let his mind wander; thoughts about a life like this came to his mind and he found himself liking the idea. He saw him and Ethan working their ranch, taking care of the animals, maybe married to some fine women. Hell, Arthur even saw a few extra kids in his future. It was a nice thought, but he didn't see it ever happening. They arrived in Valentine a lot quicker than they initially thought. And the chaos that traveled throughout the plains, was finally herded into the corral.
"Close her up, boys!" The auctioneer ordered.
Arthur and John dismounted their horses, and approached the man standing at the front of the corral.
"There you go."
"Yeah, fine sheep." The man replied.
"Well, you seen better round here?"
"I've seen ones with less…ambiguity about their provenance."
The man gave a half hearted smile.
"What're you tryin' to say?" Arthur grumbled.
At least four ranch hands approached the auctioneer from behind, ready for their orders.
"Give me a twenty-five percent kickback, and I won't say nothing to nobody–"
Arthur raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
"Everything alright here?" A ranch hand asked.
"Yep–" The man raised a brow. "Yeah, I'll excuse you…for twenty-five percent."
"Do you want a hole in your head?" Arthur questioned.
The auctioneer looked unmoved, as if this wasn't the first time he'd been threatened. And it probably wasn't the first time, nor the last.
"Folks swing for rustling livestock. Twenty-five percent."
"Fifteen." John tried.
"Twenty."
"Eighteen."
"Done." The auctioneer nodded. "Calm yourself, friend. Just think of it as me buying your sins."
Arthur scoffed. "You're buying, but we're paying."
"Go on, now."
"Come back after the auction and you'll get your money." The man said.
Arthur was the first to storm off, followed by John, who wasn't as angry as him.
"Oh yeah, Dutch is waiting for us at the saloon."
"He is?" Arthur asked, then shrugged. "Heh…alright then. So uh, eighteen percent? I thought we was doing the robbing here."
"It's still good money."
"Can't herd, can't swim–"
"Give it a rest, will you? We ain't kids no more!"
Arthur paused, pursing his lips. "We never really was."
The outlaws dismounted their horses in front of Keane's Saloon, where everyone went when they were forbidden from entering the main saloon in town.
"Come on, sunshine," John teased. "I'll buy you a whiskey."
"Should have you buy me dinner first, but considering the day we had, a whiskey'll do."
The saloon was a bit run down compared to the one on the main drag, but at least there was silence so one could think properly. And in the midst of the drunkards and dreamers, sat Dutch and Struass in the middle of an intense conversation.
"Not everything but, in the end, I don't believe in absolutes, just shades of gray; compromises." Strauss explained.
"Compromising?" Dutch sneered. "Well I have never been a man for compromise, and I fear at my age I am too old to change."
"Gentlemen." Strauss greeted both Arthur and John.
"Dutch, Leopold."
"Where have you two been?" Dutch asked, a charismatic smile to follow.
"Working; Marston's thing."
"Good…and?"
"We're just waiting to get our pay now."
Dutch nodded. "Leopold, my good friend, as long as you're here, why don't you and John go make sure there ain't no funny business."
"Of course."
John bid a short farewell, then left with Strauss.
"Drink?" Dutch asked.
"Sure."
"Nothing like talking to Strauss to make you want to blow your brains out," Dutch breathed a laugh. "I should have left him where I found him all those years ago; bookish little Austrian fresh off the boat, his eyes out on stalks."
"Well, I guess the Dutch van der Linde school has some strange graduates."
"That it does," Dutch chuckled, extending his drink to toast. "To your good health."
"Thank you."
They clinked their glasses then slammed them down on the table, when suddenly shouting could be heard from outside.
It could've been a mere drinking encounter, but fate had other plans. "Dutch van der Linde! Get out here! Get out here now!"
"What the hell–"
Dutch quickly stood from his chair, and peered through the closest window. Arthur stood behind him, hand on the butt of his pistol.
"Van der Linde!" A man on horseback shouted. "You don't know me, but you keep robbing me!"
Arthur and Dutch watched in amazement as the man on horseback was accompanied by Pinkertons; who held John and Strauss hostage.
"My name is Leviticus Cornwall! I am not a man to be messed with. Get out here before I have these men killed!"
"What do you think?" Dutch wondered aloud.
"Get out here, you depraved piece of trash!" Cornwall shouted.
Arthur pondered the situation, but he didn't beat around the bush this time. "You start spinning the yarn and…when I think the moment's right…I'll make a move."
"Heh, why not?"
"Van der Linde, you're done. Get out here, now!"
Dutch walked out of the saloon, true to his eloquence, bottle of whiskey in hand. And Arthur, for his part, would walk out of there faithful to his good aim.
ETHAN'S POV
It was clear to both of them that the situation was just as exciting as it was embarrassing. It was obvious that neither had courted before. And while it was a bit overwhelming, it was also comforting; less pressure to be better than the last guy or gal. Valentine had very few things to do, but they tried to make the most of it. And Ethan appreciated how optimistic Mary-Beth was, as she tried to find excitement where it seemed impossible. So the two just wandered through the muddy town, talking about writing, horses, the weather, all while avoiding the main saloon and Keane's, both of which had a rough reputation, but Keane's was worse.
"How hard is it to shoot a gun?" Mary-Beth asked curiously.
"What do you mean?"
She blushed. "Well, it might sound silly, but does it take a lot of training?"
Ethan smirked. "Depends on the person, I guess. When my Pa taught me to shoot, I picked it up pretty quickly. Why do you ask? Do you want to learn?"
"Would you teach me?"
"Why not? Miss Grimshaw and Karen know how to shoot."
"Another thing to be scared of," Mary-Beth teased. "Actually, I sometimes write things, and I imagine how a scene should be, but I lack a good understanding of how it works. Although, of course, I don't like the idea of being in the middle of a shootout–"
"Heh, I get it," Ethan breathed. "So, you write more than just in your diary?"
"Well, sometimes, when inspiration hits me–"
"We have a lot of stories about the gang."
"That's true, but sometimes I lack a good protagonist."
They both shared a quiet laugh.
"I would die for a hot bath." Mary-Beth mentioned.
"You could if we rented a room."
Ethan's eyes went wide as they both stared at each other, curious and a little shocked. They suddenly began to laugh at the unintentional innuendo; it was almost as if they had read each other's minds and maybe, on some level, they did. After wandering around Valentine for a while, the only place left to visit was the small tent shops on the outskirts. There wasn't really anything interesting, besides various crafts from immigrants and Native Americans.
However, a particular vendor noticed the two and called them over. When they got to the tent, he quickly realized he'd been set up. It was jewelry, perfumes and colognes. He tried like hell to pull Mary-Beth away, but she'd seen something she fancied and walked over. And after checking out the homemade jewelry and perfumes….and buying something she really liked, he managed to pry her away.
"What do you think?" Mary-Beth asked.
"It looks good, I suppose–" Ethan reasoned. "It's a bit…rustic though."
"Well I like it–" She pocketed it.
Ethan heaved a heavy sigh, wondering if what he had bought had any real value? It was homemade and well crafted, but it couldn't be a real stone. It had to be fake. Anything real wouldn't be sold in a tent.
"I promise I'll buy you something better when we go somewhere else."
She smiled. "You don't have to. I like this."
"I think I have to," Ethan said, opening the door to the General Store. "Go on in and pick out whatever you'd like."
"Are you sure about this?"
"Yes, you can buy whatever you want. Go ahead."
"Afternoon ma'am…sir." The store owner greeted.
Ethan tipped his hat.
"Good afternoon," Mary-Beth greeted. "May I see your clothing catalog?"
"Sure thing, lady." He pulled the catalog out from underneath the counter.
"Oh…um–" She bit her bottom lip. "Could I maybe pester you for a bag or two of candy?"
He smirked. "Only if you share?"
"Of course!"
She returned to the catalog and showed him a few dresses she liked, then he began to wander the store; browsing, and buying a few things for Gray and himself. And after finding all that he needed, he approached the counter.
"Thank you for this, Ethan. I'll never forget it."
"You don't have to–"
Suddenly, multiple gunshots were heard just outside; panic ensued as everyone tried to run for cover.
"Get down!" The store owner shouted.
Ethan grabbed Mary-Beth and ducked behind a display case. The gunfire grew louder and closer; never ceasing, not even to reload, or at least it seemed like.
"We have to go!" Ethan called out, opening the door.
Panic was spreading throughout Valentine; many people were still seeking shelter wherever they could. And as they left the store, many others were entering it for shelter. Ethan shielded Mary-Beth's head until they reached Gray, who was noticeably spooked.
"You need to go!" Ethan explained, hanging her bag on the saddle.
"What?" She exclaimed. "Ethan, wait!"
The spray of bullets was coming from the other side of town, but Ethan knew it was only the beginning.
"You need to get back to the camp, take Gray."
"Why don't you come with me?"
"I need to make sure it's not anyone from the gang–" Ethan replied, taking Mary-Beth's hand in his. "Please, you need to go back so you'll be safe."
The screaming and gunshots grew louder - almost rounding the corner. Mary-Beth nodded, cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his lips.
"Be safe, please!" She begged.
Ethan helped Mary-Beth onto his horse, trusting that Gray would get her back to camp safely. After she took the reins, she clicked her tongue and nudged his sides with her boots. Ethan quickly realized he didn't bring his rifle with him, something he didn't think to do since this was only supposed to be a nice date in town.
Now, armed only with his Cattleman Revolver, he ran toward the gunfire, while everyone ran for cover. He made it to the corner, where the first thing he saw was Herr Strauss running down the street, only to get shot in the leg.
"Good God!" Strauss cried out, as he fell to the ground.
"Strauss is down!" John shouted.
"I got him!" Ethan shouted.
"Ethan?" John yelled. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Ethan grabbed Struass by his arm and drug him behind a wagon.
"You saved me!"
"What the hell happened!?" Ethan asked, ducking.
"Leviticus Cornwall," Strauss managed to blurt out. "God, I'm going to die!"
"You're not gonna die, it's only a flesh wound–" He cocked his gun. "Now stay down, one of us will be there to get you."
What started out as some friendly gunfire turned into a full blown gunfight, but Ethan saw a way through it. Strauss was safe now behind the wagon, Mary-Beth was on her way back to camp; it was time to deal with Cornwall. Ethan took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to do was risky. He could die, get shot, hurt, or caught by the law. None was appealing, but he'd take getting shot over being caught by the law any day.
"Stay here."
"W-Wait!"
Ethan zipped through the town; lightening on two legs, using columns, water troughs and wagons as cover, as bullets sprayed the town. Ethan sprinted across the street, sneaking through the alley next to the saloon.
"There!" A man shouted from above.
Ethan ducked, aimed and fired; bringing down the man and his companion. The young cowboy kept running, skirting alongside the saloon, the drugstore, and even the sheriff's office. He jumped over the fence that joined the two properties, until he reached a few bushes. A couple of armed men saw him, and without warning, the tree became a target practice with not so imaginary bullets. Ethan emerged from his hiding spot and shot a man in the chest. He went down like a ton of bricks.
And as he was about to shoot the second, a bullet pierced the man's head. When Ethan ran towards the back of Keane's saloon, where the others most likely barricaded themselves, Ethan saw his father on the roof with his rifle. When he found the back door to the saloon, he walked in and was immediately met with the barrel of Dutch's gun. He looked up with his hands raised.
"It's Ethan!"
"What're you doing here?" He demanded.
Ethan took cover behind the bar as Dutch resumed his stance next to John. And much to his and everyone else's delight, the gunfire began to die down.
"They're retreating!" John shouted.
"Are you all okay?" Ethan asked.
"Yes," Dutch panted. "But I don't know if Strauss–"
"He's fine," Ethan waved. "I left him behind the wagon in front of the gun store."
"Well done." Dutch complimented.
"Clear!" Arthur shouted from the roof. "They're pulling back!"
Ethan turned to John, who was now crouched in the door frame. He offered his hand.
"You okay?"
"I think so, thanks kid."
The trio quickly exited the saloon, followed by Arthur, who made a hasty exit from the roof.
"Please! You can't leave me like this!" Strauss pleaded.
"John, take Strauss back to the camp." Dutch ordered.
The degenerate hoisted the scrawny business man onto his shoulder, then made his way to his horse around the corner.
"I think it's time to move camp again," Dutch informed. "It's best we split up; you two go somewhere and wait a while just until things calm down."
The stampede of horses coming from the hills made the ground tremble, but by the time they reached Valentine, Dutch, Ethan, and Arthur had already managed to get out; John having left moments before. Arthur mounted Bleu and Ethan hopped on the back. They hurried through town, kicking up mud and rocks. And they didn't stop until they were far away from town and the sun was beginning to set; that's how they knew they'd traveled far.
They stopped to catch their breath and to give Bleu a minute to catch his. He deserved that much, seeing as he saved their lives today.
"You okay?" Arthur asked.
With trembling hands, Ethan wiped his forehead. "No, I'm not. It's happening again–"
"Ethan–"
"It's true!" He snapped. "We could have died back there!"
"I know," Arthur tossed his cigarette to the ground. "I'm feeling the same way. but it happened because we stayed too long - we should've left the moment the Pinkertons showed their ugly faces."
"Damn it, I hope–" Ethan shook his head.
"Did Mary-Beth take Gray?"
He nodded. "Yeah and I hope she made it."
Arthur sighed. "She's not an idiot, Ethan, I'm sure she's just fine. And besides, we'll be back by sun down; packed and gone by the morning."
"I just hope the Pinkertons didn't show up–"
"Stop worrying."
As soon as the sun began to settle below the horizon, bathing the sky in orange, they rode back to the camp. No one was happy about leaving, but given that they had no other choice, everyone knew that, once again, their luck had run out.
—
June 7, 1899
Everything happened in such a short time, like a tornado passing over our heads. When we left Colter and arrived in Valentine, I thought we were going to have some time to lie low and feel safe for a while. Everything seemed to be settling down, and I believed we were safe, but I was wrong.
I knew something strange was happening ever since the train heist, and the law came down on us. Was it even the law? I doubt it; they must've been Leviticus Cornwall's men. Cornwall's men ambushed my Pa, John, Dutch, and Strauss in Valentine and almost killed Strauss. Thankfully we managed to escape, but damn it - and I know it's silly to write this, but it ruined my date with Mary-Beth. I really thought it was going to be a good day too.
When I ran into my mother a while back, she made me think about my life and all the dangerous situations I've been in and around. I'm sure she wanted me to go with her, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. Once an outlaw, always an outlaw.
Sometimes I wonder how this will all end. Dutch seems confident that we'll get through it, we just need more money and a lot of it, apparently.
We have to leave Horseshoe Overlook now and as soon as possible. Where will we go? I don't know, but I fear it will be further East, towards civilization. Sometimes I dream of when I was younger riding through the plains with my Pa - it was so peaceful and bittersweet. And looking back I never realized how much I'd miss those simpler times. I just hope things get better; they can't just get any worse from where we are.
The Pinkertons are after us again, there's nothing worse than that, but at least we're together this time. Even Kieran and Micah.
I have no idea where we're going now, I just hope that where we're headed is better than where we left.
E.M