As night fell, the tension around camp was palpable; the Pinkertons, the encounter with Leviticus Cornwall, an oil tycoon that was now after them, and a shootout in Valentine that ended in bloodshed. An angry and fed-up Hosea was heard arguing with Dutch, who sat at his desk in his tent, with a cigar placed between his fingers. He was listening to everything Hosea said and he agreed with everything Hosea was saying - there was no question about it, it was just difficult to hear it.

"So...we keep heading east?" Hosea huffed. "Is that the grand plan?"

"For now." Dutch nodded.

"And when do we stop? When we reach France? Africa? Australia?"

"Oh that'd be nice; join a Commune, drink wine and eat pastries for breakfast," Dutch replied sarcastically. "We stop when we find someplace sensible, shake 'em up - lay low for a while."

"This is lying low?" Hosea yelled. "We've turned into a bunch of monsters, Dutch - forget the delusion of being outlaws….we're monsters!"

Arthur listened glumly, as the situation escalated. It reminded him of how his parents used to fight when he was younger, and it was always over the same thing; money, where they would go next, when would his father settle down.

"We're just trying to survive, Hosea," Dutch reminded. "We don't have a choice, this'll end soon enough."

"Damn right it will." Hosea stormed out of the tent.

"Constipated as usual." Dutch mumbled.

Arthur smirked. "So, we moving again?"

"Micah told me of a place," Dutch explained. "Dewberry Creek, he said. Maybe you and Charles can go take a look, clear off anyone you find there, make sure it's safe then come get us."

"And how we gonna do that?"

"I don't know. Start dancing?"

Arthur heaved a heavy sigh. "Looks like I'm the goddamn errand boy."

"You have turned into my son," Dutch interjected. "You worry, because I worry; we are one of the same."

And with that harrowing thought, Arthur left Dutch's tent for his own. Ethan appeared behind him, carrying a small crate under his arm.

"Need any help?" Ethan asked.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Uh, no. You?"

"I'm good. You okay?"

"Yeah," He sighed. "Just gettin' ready to go find us a new place to live."

"Do you want me to–"

"No, I'm going with Charles," He sat down with his rifle. "Micah mentioned a place to Dutch, so we're gonna check it out. You stay and help pack up."

Ethan nodded. "Okay, be safe."

Ethan could see something different in his father, something that he's never seen before. And he wasn't sure if he intended on letting the mask slip, but it showed that his father was human after all. And as Arthur went to find Charles, Ethan stayed behind with the others to pack up the wagons. It was a tedious job and he'd much rather be out looking for a new place to live, but he knew this was just as important.

"Should we really be going now?" Karen asked. "I mean…the Pinkertons already know where we are and after that stunt in town, they're probably following us."

"We gotta do it at night or run the risk of getting caught."

"What happened in Valentine?" Tilly questioned.

Ethan leaned against the wheel of the wagon, and for one split second, he heard the gunfire and the screaming, saw the blood; smelled it too.

"A trap–" Ethan muttered.

"You three, get to work!" Miss Grimshaw yelled.

Karen rolled her eyes. "Yes, Miss Grimshaw….old bat."

"Mister Morgan, Pearson needs help dismantling some kitchen parts."

"Yes ma'am," Ethan nodded. "Do you have any idea how long until we're done?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Well we'd get done a lot faster if there were more working hands like yours."

"Well you'll just have to make do with what we've got."

Ethan walked alongside Miss Grimshaw, who was barking out orders like some military leader.

"Those horses had better be ready!"

"Y-Yes, right away!" Kieran stammered.

She folded her arms. "I assume you'll just stand by and watch, Miss O'Shea?"

"I've already packed my things, I just need someone to help carry them to the wagon."

"I'll take all of your things, Molly–" Ethan offered.

She smiled. "Thank you."

"There are rules, Ethan," Miss Grimshaw reminded. "Everyone must pull their own weight."

He shrugged. "I know, but it doesn't do any good if her stuff isn't even in the wagon."

He scanned the camp, looking for Dutch and he found him, standing near the edge smoking a cigar. He was momentarily lost in thought, until Dutch turned around and pointed. He quickly turned away, shaking his head. As Ethan turned to the food wagon, he heard raised voices from behind him, particularly that of Hosea.

"Hey old man! You're a little tense, maybe you should–"

"I'll tell you what I should do–" Hosea challenged. "I should kick your asses for slacking off! Now get to work!"

Hosea slammed his fist down on the table, knocking off the half drunk whiskey bottles Bill and Sean were nursing.

"Hey, just wait a damn minute–"

He grabbed a bottle and smashed it against the tree. "Get to work or your heads will be next!"

He marched away, onto his next victim; Uncle, who was lounging against a wagon wheel.

"What's wrong with the old sod?" Sean asked.

"You two better come help!" Ethan called out.

…

ARTHUR'S POV

"So we heading south?" Charles asked.

"Yeah, some area called Dewberry Creek. Dutch wants us to give it a good once over; make sure it's safe."

"I've only known him a few months, but the way he talks, I never thought I'd see him wanting to head south."

Arthur was silent for a moment. "Yeah and I know there ain't no laying low."

"There's too many of us for that."

"Dutch isn't gonna hide away in a cave somewhere; goes against everything he stands for. That'd be admitting we're nothing more than low-down criminals."

"Which...we are."

Arthur huffed. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Where does it end?" Charles asked.

"Where does what end?"

"The running and hiding….when does it all end?"

"It doesn't–" Arthur shrugged. "And besides, Dutch don't see it as running."

"Call it what you want," Charles snorted. "But we're running."

"He figures if you put enough distance between you and the problem, it'll go away," Arthur steered Bleu up the dried river bank. "Hang on a second, I think this is it."

"Seems open." Charles observed.

"Yeah, it does - kinda worries me."

Charles pointed in one direction. "Hey, I see something over there. You see it? Someone's on the ground."

Arthur and Charles trotted their horses to the scene, where a man lay dead. The blood on his back looked fresh, like whatever happened, just happened.

"He's been shot," Arthur noted. "Looks like trouble got here before us."

"There's a camp just up ahead." Charles announced.

Arthur got off his horse and drew his revolver from his holster. "Get ready; shoot first, debate later."

"I'm not gonna shoot for the sake of it!" Charles hissed.

"It's simple survival–" Arthur argued. "Unless you wanna die, have a conversation, but not me."

As Arthur and Charles walked deeper into the small camp, they could sense that something was wrong. The tension that hung over the camp was thick, so thick one could cut it with a knife.

"Few tents," Arthur pointed out. "But the place looks empty."

"Let's have a look around just to make sure," Charles urged, approaching the tents. "Wonder where they went?"

"Maybe they heard us coming; be careful."

Arthur and Charles began to search the camp; in the tent where the belongings of the missing travelers still sat. There were crates that held ammo and canned fruits and vegetables. Clothes still hung out to dry, as a cauldron sat with food simmering. Whoever was here had plans to come back. When they reached a wagon, they cleared the debris and found a woman hiding inside with two children. She was ready to shoot first, debate later, a Double-Barrel Shotgun pointed at their heads.

"Whoa, it's okay," Charles assured, hands raised. "You can come out. You're okay, we mean you no harm."

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked.

The woman, pale and blonde, trembled. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

Both men had a look of confusion on their faces. Neither one knew how to speak another language besides English…well, Charles knew how to speak the language of his own people, but nothing more than the two.

"G-German?" The woman asked.

"No," Arthur shook his head. "Now go on, get out of here. Go, we need the land."

"They took our father." The little girl explained.

"Who did?"

"A few men...last night."

"Where? Where did they take him?" Charles asked.

The young girl pointed to the road.

"Ain't no business of ours," Arthur replied. "I don't even speak their language."

"You're not as tough and dense as all that," Charles sneered, mounting his horse. "Come on, Arthur."

With a huff, Arthur mounted Bleu and together, they rode off the way the little girl pointed.

"Let's see if we can pick up a trail," Charles announced. "There, I see tracks. Come on."

"I don't see anything."

"That's because you're not a tracker…follow me, this way–" Charles explained. "What's going on with you anyway?"

"What you mean?"

He waved his hand. "You were just gonna send that woman and her children on their way?"

"We're wanted men, Charles. We got the Pinkerton's breathing down our necks - it ain't exactly the time to go off on a wild goose chase."

"Yeah but…that's not how you are."

"Well maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do–"

They fell into a quick and awkward silence - the only thing that was heard was the clip clopping of the hooves and the rustling leaves. But after a while, Charles began to speak, which broke the tension.

"Looks like the tracks go down this way," He explained. "So...what happened with those Pinkertons, anyway? When you were fishing with Jack?"

"Said they were onto us," Arthur sighed. "Offered me freedom if I turned Dutch in."

Charles snickered. "Well they picked the wrong man."

"If you ask me, we should've moved then - bastards told me they killed Mac; said it right in front of Jack too."

"That kid...this is all gonna be tough on him."

"Yeah...but he has more folks looking out for him than we had growing up."

Charles nodded. "So John said he was going back to the auction yard to collect the money."

"He'd be an idiot to go back right now."

"He said he'd be able to slip in and out."

"Oh, well...if it's John's idea, it must be a good one."

"What is it with you and him?" He wondered.

"He disappeared on us for a while when Jack was real young," Arthur paused. "A long while - a year or more. And I guess I still ain't fully forgiven him for that."

"Oh…that's a shame–" He pointed. "There's a camp up ahead….seems deserted–"

The place did, indeed, look deserted; the fire was weak, now just smoke and ash. Arthur grabbed his rifle, feeling like he was walking into a trap.

"So where is this guy?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know...but you know something? This is a better camp spot than back there. Much easier to defend too."

Arthur couldn't deny it, the camp was spacious and near the water too - easy to collect and bathe, without it being a hike.

"Hey, this looks like our guy." Arthur pointed out.

As they reached the bound and gagged man, Charles removed the rag from his mouth. He began shouting in German, as men rushed out from the woods.

"Take cover!" Arthur shouted, taking cover behind a cart.

At least a half a dozen men appeared out of nowhere, and the nice spacious space was turned into a war zone. Arthur knew it was a trap all along, he just wished they weren't alone. Charles skirted between a few trees and took out a rider coming in hot, as Arthur put a bullet in between two eyes.

He ducked back down behind a broken wagon and reloaded. "Helluva thing to drag us into, Charles!" Arthur shouted.

The gunfire rang out in the open space, bouncing off trees and the ground, leaving the attackers dead. A sneak attack they thought, but they underestimated the two outlaws as they were quickly dealt with. They were unorganized and sloppy, which the two outlaws took advantage of.

"Well that's dealt with."

Arthur grunted and went back to the German man. He cut the ties with his knife and took the gag out of his mouth. The man immediately dropped to his knees, muttering in his native tongue.

"Danke, mein Freund, danke!"

"Yeah, okay, okay–" Arthur waved his hand. "You wait here a second. Charles, go find Dutch and bring the gang back here. This spot should work."

Charles left the way they came, and Arthur followed with the confused German man. He had a little chat with the man along the way - from which neither got anything out of it, other than he'd been taken away for money.

"Du bringst mich zu meiner Familie? Oh, danke...wie haben sie dich gefunden?"

"Look, I'm sorry friend, I can barely speak English myself."

The family was reunited and rejoiced, as the family patriarch was returned. Joy was instantly replaced with gratitude, and they made sure to shower Arthur with affection; granted, he didn't particularly enjoy the attention - nevertheless, he appreciated being appreciated.

"Go on now, get outta here!" Arthur exclaimed, pointing. "This place ain't safe no more."

The man turned and began rummaging through a crate in the back of the wagon, while his family waited for him.

Arthur didn't expect the man, as poor as he was, to give him a gold bar. He was amazed.

"Vielen Dank. Von ganzem Herzen."

"It was a pleasure….I guess."

…

ETHAN'S POV

A hours before the sun even thought to rise, Charles reappeared with the news of a campsite. Ethan climbed into the wagon, Mary-Beth at his side, Abigail and Jack safely secured in the back.

"Gray give you trouble?" Ethan asked.

She breathed a laugh. "I think he likes me."

"Oh I know," Ethan nudged her with his elbow. "Otherwise, he would've dumped you somewhere."

"That's true."

The duo fell into a comfortable silence; enjoying the sounds of nature and the creaking of the wagons. It was Mary-Beth who broke the silence.

"Did we really have to move camp?"

"Well yeah…we had to keep a low profile," Ethan reminded. "And we didn't, so now we have to move."

"I guess we weren't exactly quiet."

"It was either that or wait for that Leviticus Cornwall."

"I hope we'll be safer here." Abigail said.

"Do you think they'll find us again?" Mary-Beth asked.

He didn't know how to answer either question, but he sure as hell hoped they were safe and that they wouldn't be found. As the sun created the horizon, the humidity began to rise. And as they continued down the road, the place where they would set up camp looked almost idyllic; covered in trees and near a creek.

"You were right!" Dutch bellowed. "Oh, this place...it'll be perfect for us."

Ethan jumped down from the wagon, then helped Mary-Beth down. He would've helped Abby, but she was already down and had a sleeping Jack in her arms.

"Miss Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson–" Dutch called out. "Put everyone to work and make this place a home. I don't know where we are, but we will make the best of it."

Arthur choked a laugh as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Morning." Ethan greeted.

"Hey–" Arthur raised his coffee cup. "Quiet ride?"

Ethan nodded. "No problems, and here?"

Arthur reached into his pocket and produced a gold bar. "You tell me."

"What the–"

He slung an arm over Ethan's shoulder, and together they walked to the river's edge to enjoy their coffee and their new home.