June 16, 1899
So much has happened in the last month. It almost feels like an eternity since Colter and Blackwater. And ironically, the shootout in Valentine. My head is still spinning from that alone. We had no idea Cornwall was going to find us. And now that he has, everyone is on edge; just waiting for him to strike again.
I can't really bear the thought of running again, even though we will, and that's not even what really worries me. It's that we are further East than anyone really wanted to be. We're in the midst of civilization now, which becomes a threat to us.
Somedays I wish to leave the gang, but I still have so much I have yet to learn. I dream of leaving with Mary-Beth and going to live with my mother somewhere safe and desolate. I want a normal life - whatever that is. I plan to send my mother a letter soon, but I have no clue of what I should say; does she even know what happened in Valentine? If she does know, she'll suspect that we were involved. I just have to find the right words to say so that I don't worry her.
Mary-Beth and me - I think we're doing good; I do have worries about screwing it all up, but she doesn't hold anything against me. She's so smart and beautiful, I feel like sometimes I can't get her out of my head, and that worries me too. I can't be thinking about her when I'm out and about. I need a clear head; both of them. Heh!
This is the time when I should hesitate the least though. We're far enough away from our sins and past crimes, I think. But we just keep leaving a very noticeable trail everywhere we go, so it's no wonder our sins always catch up with us. It's kinda funny; the lake noises are strange to me, the animals too, and I know the further East we go, the worse it will be. My Pa won't say, but I know he's worried. He's just good at hiding it.
Dutch has made some bad decisions, and continues to do so. I don't distrust him...I just don't trust him with my life, like my Pa does. I have my doubts, and I'm afraid my Pa will notice and think I'll leave. I won't. At least, I don't think I will. I could - I dream about it a lot, but I doubt I'll ever actually do it.
I think I'll just focus on the present for now.
I've been thinking about teaching Mary-Beth to ride a horse; it might actually be a good thing for her. We could eventually travel together. A date. Maybe a new start. But for now, I'm content to just be near her, to see her smile, hear her laugh and sweet voice. She's my calm in the midst of chaos.
Clemens Point is quiet, too quiet; almost deceptively quiet. And I've noticed that it's always like that right before the rug slips out from underneath us. Right before the next mission, right before we have to run. So I try not to get too attached to one place, and the feeling that comes along with it, because I just know it won't last.
Miss Grimshaw is keeping everyone busy these days; barking out orders and giving everyone chores. At least we don't have time to think about what's happening. Thinking is good for some things, but not about the future.
There's trouble brewing between Dutch and Miss O'Shea. They yell a lot, even in the middle of the night. She is very temperamental, and Dutch can't tolerate her anymore. And for the most part, everyone else can tolerate her, they just don't understand why she's so angry all the time.
I've noticed Hosea is a little...sick these days. I know he's had health issues in the past, but it's something you can't help but notice, especially when he's pale all the time while we're all red and sweaty. Some folks have different ways of coping. For example, Sean tries to be optimistic; always talking about the future.
And when he's not drunk, we sometimes fish. Kieran tries to get closer to the gang, but Bill has made it harder for him - like it's a game. Sometimes he goes too far though, and we have to step in and stop him. He'll never change, I fear.
I really do hope that this place can give us enough time to regain our strength, to plan accordingly, and find a path that will lead us to a more secure future. Each of us have begun to take on different roles to keep a certain order and morality. However, I can't help but think of the danger that lurks ahead and in every dark corner. What if the Pinkertons find us again? Are we really prepared to face them? Uncertainty assaults me, and sometimes I feel paranoid, but within good reason.
John and Abigail have been more reserved lately. Not even a fight between the two. It's odd, but they have Jack to think about now. At least John is back in his life, not running away in the other direction. He still doesn't spend any time with Jack; I've seen him spend more time with his guns and his horse.
One night while on watch, I saw my Pa sitting by the campfire, lost in thought. He looked more tired than usual. I wanted to go over and talk to him, but I didn't. Sometimes I think he needs his space to process everything that's going on too. I mean, he's only human.
Dutch keeps talking about big plans and new beginnings but I'm finding it harder to believe his words. He says a lot of things, but his actions prove otherwise.
The food supply is running low, and Pearson is an even bigger grump than usual. We've had to ration our supplies, and although we are not starving, the situation could be better. Some of the gals quit helping Pearson, because he doesn't know how to treat women. Which I've seen first hand. If he pushes Sadie too hard, I'm afraid she may kill him. I'm trying to stay positive though, Clemens Point is beautiful in its own wild way. The sunsets over the lake are spectacular.
And sometimes, at the end of the day, when the sun sets behind the trees and everything is tinged with gold and pink, I can almost forget about all of our troubles.
E.M
—
ETHAN'S POV
After a few weeks of constant paranoia, there was a much needed lull. The mood had shifted and everyone was much calmer now, and camp was finally returning to how it had always been. The outlaws were leaving again, this time to acquire some more money. Charles and Javier were venturing further to scout out some promising locations. Ethan decided to sit this one out, figuring it was better to let the others do what they do best.
So he sat near the food wagon, on some empty crates, writing a letter to his mother. The younger man tried to capture all of his feelings and all of the happenings in little to no detail, knowing that the less she knew the better. And what she didn't know, she'd soon figure out.
"Say whatever you damn well please, but I tell you if I don't get out of here soon, I'm gonna kill somebody–" Sadie snapped.
Ethan looked up just as Sadie pointed a knife at Pearson. He placed his letter face down on the crate and inched closer, just in case he needed to separate the two.
"And if you don't stop hissing at me, I'm gonna kill you!" Pearson exclaimed.
"Come near me, sailor, and I will slice you up!"
"You put that knife down, or you're gonna be missing a hand!"
Pearson took a step forward, the butcher block knife firmly gripped in his hand.
Ethan stepped out from behind the wagon. "Alright, knock it off you two–"
"I ain't chopping vegetables for a living!" Sadie shouted.
"I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't know chopping vegetables was so back breaking."
"I ain't lazy," She defended. "I'll work, but not this."
"Well, ain't cooking work?" Ethan asked.
With a huff, Sadie turned and walked away, rounding the wagon, where she took a seat on some potato sacks. Ethan strolled over, giving her a moment to clear her head. But he made sure to announce his presence before coming up behind her.
"My husband and I...we shared the workload, all of it–" She clenched her fists. "Listen, I was out in the fields everyday with him. I can hunt, carry a knife or use a gun. But I tell you, you keep me here...I'll skin that fat old coot and serve him for dinner!"
"Watch your damn mouth, you crazy goddamn fish wife!" Pearson yelled.
Sadie stood and began screaming profanities, which prompted Ethan to stand in between the two.
"Enough!" Ethan shouted. "Look, you wanna go out there? Well fine, but we do more than just hunting. We're hunted. And the things that are hunting us...well, they've got guns of their own."
"I ain't afraid of dying, kid–"
"That's good…I guess," Ethan clicked his tongue and then turned to Pearson. "You need anything? Maybe me and Mrs. Adler can take a little ride to town."
"Yeah, sure," Pearson wiped his hands off on his apron before grabbing the list. "Here. Can you mail this letter for me while you're there too?"
"Sure, I gotta do the same."
He grabbed his letter off the crate and headed over to the wagon, which was already prepared for the others leaving today. Ethan didn't think they'd mind it if he and Sadie made a quick run to town.
Sadie scoffed. "So I graduated from chopping vegetables to shopping?"
"Oh don't be like that, Mrs. Adler. C'mon."
After leaving camp, they traveled along the bumpy road that led to town. At least the scenery was prettier, Ethan thought. His travel companion was quiet, which either meant she was going to slice his throat, or she was in some serious contemplation.
"You cooled down yet?" Ethan asked.
"I guess," Sadie folded her arms. "I ain't no scullion, and I sure as hell ain't taking orders from that sweating halfwit."
"We all gotta do our share, Mrs. Adler–"
"Where's that letter?" Sadie asked.
He smirked. "You reading his mail now?"
"Oh, robbing and killing is okay, but letter reading is where we draw the line?"
"Fair enough."
Ethan passed her Pearson's letter. Sadie opened the letter, smoothed it out, then cleared her throat.
"'Dear Aunt Cathy–'"
Ethan shook his head. "You are something else."
"'I haven't heard from you in some time, so I prayed to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further'...blah blah blah, it's boring–" Sadie rolled her eyes. "Oh! Wait a second, listen to this…'Since we last corresponded, I have traveled widely, making no small name for myself.'"
Ethan and Sadie, unable to contain themselves, fell into a fit of laughter.
"'I am still yet to take a wife, but I can assure you it's not for a lack of suitors'...you think he ever actually talked to a woman he ain't paid for?" Sadie asked.
"Look, we're all hiding behind something." Ethan tried.
"And what's this?" Sadie asked when she saw the return address. "Return to Tacitus Kilgore."
"Dutch's idea," Ethan explained. "Whenever we set up somewhere new, Strauss heads into town, tells 'em to start expecting mail from a Tacitus Kilgore, or whatever they changed it to."
"You too?" Sadie asked. "Who's your letter for?"
"Oh, my mother."
"Heh, how sweet–"
Ethan rolled his eyes.
"Really!"
"Thanks, I guess. Now, gimme that back. We've got work to do–"
Ethan pulled the wagon into the small town of Rhodes, a place of ruddy earth and stark heat. The atmosphere was a bit strange, and they both felt a little exposed and the subject of scrutiny, as Ethan left the wagon next to the General store.
"So what's the plan?" Sadie asked, waving her revolver. "I shoot the shopkeeper while you–"
"No!" Ethan grabbed a hold of her gun. "Are you insane?"
"Well, I thought we was outlaws–"
"Outlaws...not idiots," Ethan whispered. "We rob the fools that rob other people. These people, they're just trying to get by, get the difference?"
"Heh, interesting."
"So you head on inside, and you buy us some food. And no guns, please."
"Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure," Ethan nodded. "Come on, I'll help you–"
"Help me? What do you mean?"
Ethan walked with Sadie down the planked path and entered the cool General Store.
"Morning, sir." Ethan greeted.
"Good morning, it's rare to see new faces around here." The shopkeeper mentioned.
"My name's Edward and this is my sister, Sophia."
Sadie smacked Ethan's arm for the less than desirable names, then turned and went to the other end of the store.
"Big list, many people traveling?"
"Doing what we can for a living, sir–" Ethan shrugged. "Can I get everything on there or will it be a problem?"
"Oh no problem. I'll prepare your order right away."
"Hey Soph," He called out. "I'm gonna go check the mail, alright?"
"Yeah sure thing….brother." Sadie said, glancing over the shelves.
Ethan couldn't help but chuckle at her response. He left the general store for the post office down the street, where he was sure there were a few letters waiting. There might not have been just yet, considering they just moved here. It would take a few days for the mail to be redirected from Valentine.
Before handing the clerk the letters, Ethan took one last look at the one bound for Saint-Denis. He didn't know why he was so nervous, he'd written to her before. He just hoped he didn't give anything away. Outside, the train was heard rounding the bend; the rumble and roar of the engines, the screech of the whistle.
"I'll be back at the end of the week to pick up any letters."
The man behind the counter tipped his hat. Ethan couldn't help reminiscing the time when his mother left for the overcrowded, pompous city of Saint-Denis. It had been a relatively short time since they had seen each other, but their line of work made it seem like a lifetime had gone by. Ethan was brought back to reality, by the rasp of Sadie's voice and the burn of the sun on his skin. He was surprised to find a whole new Sadie at the back of the wagon.
"I've birthed foals with more strength than you," Sadie taunted. "Hell, my sister's newborn had more strength than you, and he came out bright blue."
"I'm trying!" The young man protested.
"Try harder!"
"I think this is everything, ma'am."
"Yeah thanks–" Sadie said, tossing him a coin. "Here. Just for you."
"Thanks. I guess?"
"Well, you can give it back then. Jesus Christ, I didn't ask for your help!"
The younger man pocketed the coin. "I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to give you the impression that I didn't want it."
She waved her arm. "Then go on, git!"
The man didn't hesitate, he clobbered up the wooden steps and hurried back into the general store.
She turned back to the wagon, to a confused Ethan. "What?"
"Uh…why don't you drive this time?"
"Fine by me."
They both climbed up in the wagon and Sadie took the reins in her hands. She clicked her tongue and the wagon lurched forward; she steered it back down the street, weaving in and out of people, horses and other wagons.
"Did you get everything on the list?"
"I think so."
"Nice clothes, Mister. How's the wife?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't start with me, I can wear whatever I damn well want."
"I didn't say you couldn't," He shrugged. "Just teasing."
"Well, like I told you, my husband and I shared all the work. I wasn't some little housewife with a flower in her hair baking cherry pies all day."
Sadie certainly didn't look like the woman she described; she was rough, tough, and crass. She was outlaw material, even if she was a woman.
"I don't doubt that," He glanced over. "You certainly look the part now - won't be long before you're smoking cigars and playing the harmonica like the rest of us."
"I'll have you know I used to love playing the harmonica before…well," She grimaced. "Well before my house and all my possessions got burned up."
"I'm real sorry about that," He expressed. "I'll keep my eyes open for another one."
"I don't want your pity, Ethan–" Sadie assured. "Just treat me like an equal and know nobody's ever taking nothin' from me again."
"I will," Ethan reassured as he reached for a cigarette from his pocket. "But don't kill the cook, please."
"You leave me very few options, boy–"
"And if you want me to treat you as an equal, don't call me boy or kid. Ethan will do just fine."
"Alright young man." She teased.
They shared a quiet laugh as they traveled back to camp. It was then they realized they weren't alone on the trail, as two riders appeared from the treeline.
"Hey there!" A man in a worn military uniform called out.
Ethan tipped his hat. "Afternoon."
"What're you folks doing?"
"Heading home–" Ethan tossed his cigarette to the ground.
"You're in Lemoyne country, you know that?" The man warned. "You need to pay the toll to pass through here."
Sadie shook her head, biting her tongue. It was hard not to say something, when her trigger finger was itchy.
"Relax–" He whispered, then turned to the man. "No, I don't think I will. Good day to you both."
"Oh you don't?" The man flung his jacket to the side, revealing his revolver. "Pull over."
Ethan scoffed. "Pull over?"
"That's what I said."
"Hey, how's about this?"
Sadie reached across Ethan and fired a round from her revolver; the bullet pierced his arm and he nearly fell off his horse.
"Go!" Sadie hollered, snapping the reins.
"Goddamn it!" Ethan shouted, pulling his revolver from his side.
He fired a few rounds and a rider fell off his horse and landed with a thud. He reloaded his gun as Sadie weaved and zig zagged the wagon, then fired again. This time, he hit two straight through the head of the guy in front of him.
"Get moving, now! Go!" He glanced over his shoulder, as he reached for more ammo. "What the hell was that?"
"They was gonna rob us!" Sadie assured.
"A new pair of pants, and you think you're Landon Ricketts!"
The road back to camp forked. And at the junction, more trouble awaited them. Likely some sort of coordinated attack.
"I'm gonna run these sons a bitches down!" Sadie swore.
"You wanted to see some action, well you've got your wish!" Ethan shouted, jumping from the wagon and taking cover behind a tree.
At least half a dozen bandits were waiting for them; their aim was terrible, but as bad as it was, it was still pretty close. Behind some rocks, Ethan spotted a pair aiming for Sadie and quickly unloaded two shots in each of them. They both collapsed and slid down the small incline.
"Cowards!" Sadie shouted.
Ethan heard screaming over the gunfire, but it wasn't him or Sadie. He slipped around to the other side of the wagon, just in time to see the rest of the bandits speed off on their horses. He turned to Sadie, who was in the middle of reloading.
"You okay?" Ethan asked.
"Yeah you better run, goddamn cowards!" Sadie shouted, then turned to Ethan. "Of course I am. You think I can't handle these fools? I think we're good here."
"Fuck." Ethan breathed.
"Nice shooting, huh?" She grinned. "Well alright, I reckon I'll drive us back."
"Oh no you don't," Ethan hopped up in the wagon. "Pass the reins."
"Why?"
He waved his hand. "Because you've caused enough trouble today."
"Oh, I'm fine–" She laughed. "We really showed those bastards, huh?"
"Yeah," He scoffed. "Remind me not to cross you."
"And they were clearly planning to attack us!"
"Can't argue with that. Have to say you did good, but that's a lot of mess to make near camp. Hope no one goes sniffing around."
"You gonna tell Dutch on me?"
"Nah, they were just some local idiots. Nothing to cause a ruckus over."
"So who did they say they were? They said we were in Lemoyne country."
"Pa mentioned something about the Lemoyne Raiders when we first got here. Ex-Confederates I believe, and they're structured more like a militia than a gang."
She shrugged. "So just some delusional fools with guns?"
"Yep, just some old fools with guns–" Ethan confirmed. "Anyway, don't you go ribbing Pearson about that letter."
"Nah…I wouldn't dream of it."
He smirked. "Right, sure."
"'I have traveled widely making no small name for myself.'" Sadie mocked.
"I won't be giving you any mail to post any time soon."
She laughed. "I just want a peek inside that journal of yours. The mind boggles."
"Don't even think about it."
"Your father keeps a journal too, doesn't he?"
"I guess so."
"Did he teach you to do that? Puttin' your thoughts on paper?"
Ethan shrugged. "I suppose he did."
"You draw like him?"
"You seem to know an awful lot about him."
She shrugged. "I've been bored at camp. And when you're that bored, you notice things."
"Well in any case, I'm nowhere near as good as he is, but I draw occasionally, yeah."
"You let Gaskill see your thoughts?"
Ethan eyed Sadie, then turned his head to hide his blush. Just the mention of Mary-Beth drove him to mush. It was pathetic how wimpy he became, but his Pa said it was normal. A little while later, the duo arrived back at camp. Ethan steered the wagon in through the camp and out behind the food wagon; it was the only time Miss Grimshaw didn't have a fit about horses being in her camp. Though any mess they made was on him to get it taken care of.
"You didn't get yourself killed then, Mrs. Adler?" Pearson asked, even though it was quite obvious.
"Not quite–" She said, climbing down from the wagon. "I'm sure you would've liked that though."
He chuckled. "Well, I'd like to say I missed your refined conversations, but...I'd be lying."
"Well, I enjoyed myself out there."
"Heh, Mrs. Adler did well out there. You would've been shocked."
"At shopping?"
"Yeah…shopping-"
"Thank you, Ethan." She winked.
"Don't mention it. I'd like to ride with you again, if you'll ride with me?"
"I will if you prove you can handle yourself?"
"Well, I ain't afraid of gunfire, you already know that–"
"We've got this, Mr. Morgan–" Pearson said, hefting a sack over his shoulder. "You've already done me a big favor today."
"I'll be around if you need anything else." Ethan tipped his hat.
"Alright, miss high and mighty," Pearson paused with a huff. "Oh - nice pants by the way."
"Shut up."
ARTHUR'S POV
For him, the weeks of paranoia and stress finally ended and in such a strange way, that they could not even fully understand how they managed. He wasn't a religious man, but a part of him had to think it was an act of God…if he even dared to care about a bunch of outlaws.
Morale was low, and Dutch was beginning to feel the heat. And now that they were further East than anyone had hoped for, it was bearing down on everyone's shoulders. Even little Jack was being exposed to things he should be.
And despite everyone's concerns, Dutch continued to downplay it and instead, reiterated the importance of having faith in the plan…whatever that was anymore.
"We nearly lost men back there!" Arthur exclaimed.
"We all have lofty goals, Arthur–" Dutch mentioned. "We're trying to reform society to a kinder, truer, better way; now of course, there's gonna be casualties."
"We're thieves," Arthur reminded. "In a world that don't want us no more."
"We are dreamers in a very bland world. Now, come on…we've got the day and finally some nice weather. Let's enjoy it."
Dutch invited Arthur over to sit with him, which he accepted against his better wishes. He really wanted to talk more about this plan they were all supposed to have faith in. But Dutch wanted to talk about Hosea instead, who was grooming his horse near the paddock.
"Hosea says that there's a creek around here. I reckon it's full of fish," Dutch explained, before calling out to Hosea. "Hey old man, come on over here, why don't you show us this creek you been pissing in!"
He turned at the shout, dropped the brush and shuffled over. They quickly realized that he didn't look very good, and grew worried he was sick. It's not like he'd tell them anyway, they would just have to guess and he would only deny it in the end.
"Hey you aren't looking too rosy, old friend," Dutch mentioned. "I thought this warmer weather would–"
"My days of looking good are long over, Dutch." Hosea replied solemnly.
"Always dream crushing and bubble bursting," Dutch heaved a sigh. "Come on Hosea, let's go fishing."
"Alright."
The trio left camp on horseback and lost themselves to the forest greenery, until they came to an opening that led to the other side of the lake.
"Why don't we just fish here–" Arthur suggested. "There's a whole lake of fish."
"Because I need to get out for a bit, we're too close to home–" Dutch breathed a laugh. "Just me and the old guard. Before any of them back there...it was just us."
"The curious couple and their unruly son." Hosea joked.
"It feels good here. You did well finding this spot, Arthur."
He shrugged. "More Charles than me."
"It's like I can breathe again; thick and soupy as this air is. Might even do your whistling pipes some good, Hosea."
"I was once in this country with Bessie," Hosea reminisced. "Oh, it feels like a lifetime ago now."
"It was a lifetime ago," Dutch replied. "But what a life we have lived. How well we have fought. Especially the both of you."
"I sure hope so." Arthur worried.
"When things go south, we have to stick to the plan," Dutch insisted. "Make enough money, then find somewhere where nobody will find us."
"Like where?" Hosea questioned.
"I got some ideas hatching, but I need you with me, not against me. Both of you."
"O'Course–" Arthur said without hesitation.
"We do need money. So keep a low profile, especially in town. After Valentine, I want everyone to be on their best behavior here, no trouble...but start toiling the soil and see what turns up.
"We've gotta be discreet," Hosea reminded, pointing to a wagon across the way.
"Looks like the law–" Dutch whispered. "Stay calm."
The trio trotted their horses up behind the prison wagon. Where six men sat inside and one familiar face that none of them expected to see.
"Well ello, gentlemen." Trelawny greeted.
"Look what the cat dragged in." Dutch chuckled.
"I seem to have gotten myself in a spot."
"Quiet back there!" The Lawman ordered.
"Let's see if we can't sort this out–" Dutch said, riding up alongside the wagon. "How are you, boys?"
"Fine." The Sheriff said.
"This is quite some country you have here!"
"We like it well enough."
"Hoagy Macintosh, at your service–" Dutch said with the tip of his hat.
"Leigh Gray," The Sheriff said, then turned to his Deputy. "This is my Deputy, Archibald MacGregor."
"Nice to meet you both."
"You a Scot?" The Sheriff asked.
"Only the best part."
He breathed a laugh. "Of course."
"Now, tell me, sir...what did the silly fancy fop back there do? Nothing too terrible, I trust."
The Sheriff stiffened. "He was accused of running a gold mining investment scam."
Hosea and Arthur shared a knowing look. Oh the irony. The more that Dutch talked, the more the lawmen ignored the men trying to escape in the back.
"Oh no, no, no, I'm sure he wasn't," Dutch assured. "He is a magician, I know him. He's a fool...but he is not a bad feller. Now can we just–"
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, I–" Trelawny warned.
The door to the mobile prison flung open, just as the train came barreling down the tracks.
"Shit! The Anderson boys!" The Sheriff shouted. "I can't have any more scandals!"
The horses whinnied as they sensed the tension, combined with the train. The Deputy leapt from the wagon and tried pursuing the men, but he failed miserably. The Anderson boys hopped the train, disappearing within the many cars.
"Allow us to help, my friend–" He glanced over his shoulder. "Arthur?"
"Chase wanted men?" Arthur questioned.
"And take Archibald with ya," Dutch suggested. "Perhaps we can discuss the foolish magician?"
Arthur heaved a sigh. "Just what I signed up for–"
"Let's go! After that train!" Archibald shouted. "And do not shoot them, you hear me? Come on, hurry!"
"All right?" Arthur said, though it was more of a question.
"Come on, we're losing them!" The Deputy shouted.
"Will you relax? We're not losing 'em."
"Faster, come on!" Archibald insisted. "What's your name, sir?"
"Arthur. Arthur Callahan."
"Faster, Mr. Callahan, please!" The man pleaded. "My neck is on the line here."
"I get it, but I'm doing my best here," Arthur insisted. "So what are these fellers wanted for anyway?"
He asked as he watched one of the men struggling to hold on to the edge of the train car.
"Looks like the son of a bitch is gonna make it. You sure I can't just shoot him?"
"No. Did I not say that?" Archibald asked.
"You've said plenty–"
The prisoner managed to pull himself up on top of the car, hurling insults and shouting out obscenities. Arthur and Archibald watched as the Anderson boy suddenly met a gruesome fate; hitting his head on an overpass. And as the boy fell off the train, sliding down the hill, they continued on after the train.
"Idiot," Archibald spat. "Now get after the others, come on! The train is slowing down to go through the station. Now's our chance. See if you can get alongside the train. Get alongside that flat car. You think you can jump?"
"Me? Why me?" Arthur asked.
"Because you ride like my grandmother."
Arthur huffed. "You are something else, mister!"
Arthur forced his horse into the side of one of the freight cars, particularly the flat car. What he was about to do was stupid, dangerous, ridiculous and it may be the dumbest thing he'd ever done in his life. He pulled his feet out from the stirrups and stood, balancing on the back of his horse.
He couldn't think about what he was going to do or he wouldn't do it. So he leapt over the fast paced scenery, and landed inside the train car with a heavy thud. The Anderson boys began shouting and shooting, which prompted Arthur to roll behind a crate.
Arthur was pretty sure they stole the guns from the guards on the train, which meant they were dead. Arthur stood and ran full force into the back of one of the Anderson boys. Another Anderson boy threw himself on top of Arthur, as he disarmed the boy he had pinned to the train car. One down, one to go.
"You cop bastard!" The Anderson boy shouted, choking the cowboy. "I didn't do anything!"
Arthur managed to loosen the grip around his throat, then elbowed him in the chest. The Anderson let go and collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
"Damn fool!" Arthur shouted.
"Come on, Mr. Callahan! I'm relying on you!" Archibald shouted.
Arthur ran through the rest of the train cars, listening as the Andersons shouted and scrambled to get away. They managed to escape out onto a flat car full of hay bales. He watched them climb up onto the next train car, as they headed for the engine.
"You hold it right there!" Arthur warned.
"Go on! Don't lose them!" Archibald shouted.
"Get the hell away from me!" The Anderson boy shrieked, pushing a hay bale over the edge.
Arthur ducked out of the way, but continued on, weaving in and out of hay, leaping over bales. He didn't really think anything of who he was chasing, until he looked up, coming face to face with a bull of a man. It was fun when people underestimated Arthur, because he may not look like a lot, but he was a brute of a man.
He took on Tommy back in Valentine, and a lot of others deemed impossible to fight. This man was small potatoes. And a few punches later, the man was sprawled out on the train car, covered in blood and hay. Arthur took off in the direction of the other Anderson boy; the last one, hopefully.
He was fed up with the chase, the Deputy, and this train, but he stayed focused, not wanting to get so careless he lost the fight. The train suddenly began to slow as it neared Rhodes, and Arthur knew it was now or never. He stepped into the meat locker and was relieved; it was cold and felt heavenly on his overheated skin.
"Just you and me now, pal!" Arthur announced.
"I guess it's just us then, lawman–" The Anderson boy picked up a knife. "C'mere!"
"Do we even need to bother?" Arthur asked.
He slapped the knife from his hand and put the Anderson in a headlock.
"Let go of me!"
"I can't do that."
Like the others, the last of the Anderson boys thought it would be an easy fight. He had a slight advantage over Arthur though, elbowing him in the gut and dropping to the floor. When Arthur caught his breath, the Anderson lunged at him with his knife, hoping to cut Arthur into pieces.
But he didn't anticipate Arthur; an older man, outsmarting him. He ducked and slammed his hand into the wall, effectively pinning him there until he was able to retrieve the knife. Once the knife was out of reach, Arthur delivered a thundering blow to the face, which sent the boy into the crates behind him.
"Goddammit!" Arthur huffed, shaking out his hand.
"Is everything alright in there?" Archibald asked.
"Well, he's not dead," Arthur replied. "Pretty sure I won the fight–"
"Bring him out here."
The cowboy hogtied the Anderson boy, then hoisted him over his shoulder and exited the train car.
"The bastard may look skinny, but he's a heavy motherfucker!"
"Sounded like quite the commotion. Is that him?" Archibald asked.
"I sincerely hope so."
"Yep, that's Anders Anderson." The Deputy confirmed.
"So what now?" Arthur wondered aloud.
"We take him in, come on. A fine job, well done. And a pat on the back for me for stopping the train too–"
"What about the rest?"
"I'll send some of the other deputy's to come clean this mess - Anders is the man we really want."
Arthur mounted his horse, as the Deputy walked his horse that carried Anders.
"Are you familiar with the area here?"
Arthur shook his head. "No, I reckon I'm not."
"On your right here, these tobacco fields," Archibald pointed to an almost parched field. "This is part of Caliga Hall, big estate belonging to the Gray family."
"Looks bone dry."
"Yes, we are in dire need of some rain round here, let me tell you," Archibald sighed. "The Gray family has lived in Caliga Hall for many generations; fine people they are. My family has been working for them for years. I'm sure you already know of the Braithwaites?"
"Like I said, we just got here."
"Another big family in these parts. They have an estate just West of here and, well...awful people, truly awful," Archibald assured. "They've been fighting with the Grays for as long as I can remember."
"Sounds like quite the place you got here."
The deputy gave Arthur a tour of the small southern town, which seemed like it was frozen in time. Southern belle's, confederate soldiers, wagons and street vendors alike, littered the dusty streets. Up the street, in front of the Sheriff's office, sat Hosea on an upside down bucket.
"Gentlemen," Hosea greeted. "Good hunting?"
Arthur grunted, as he pulled Anders down from the Deputy's horse.
"Mr. Gray! We got 'em!" Archibald called out.
Sheriff Gray came out of the building, followed by Dutch, and they both looked pleased.
"I told you Arthur would deliver; man has a passion for justice."
"That's wonderful!" The Sheriff exclaimed.
"So, about my friend here?" Dutch asked, referencing Trelawny.
"Your idiot friend is free to go," He turned to Josiah. "But I don't want no more trouble from you, is that understood?"
Josiah nodded. "I assure you, Sir, this was all just a big misunderstanding. However, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart–"
"I'll pretend to appreciate that. Mr. Macintosh, it has been a real pleasure. The mostly good citizens of Rhodes, we welcome you to our humble abode."
"We're just honored to be here." Dutch said.
"Make sure your friend behaves," Sheriff Gray pointed to Trelawny. "We've got enough trouble from a few of our residents, we don't need vacationers causing trouble too."
"How terrible," Dutch feigned. "I will keep this feller straight and narrow."
"Well, come back and see us sometime soon. We have bounties posted all the time and no one to do the job." Sheriff Gray announced as he climbed the stairs.
At the door, a boy was waiting for him. Arthur had only just noticed him; a well-dressed, polite-looking young man, possibly around the age of Ethan.
"Beau, these better be ugly rumors I've been hearing."
"What rumors?"
He pointed his finger. "You were seen talking with Penelope Braithwaite. Now is that true?"
It wasn't any of his business if he was talking to the girl. And he shouldn't care, but a part of him was curious. Call it idle gossip or curiosity killing the cat, he wanted to know what they were talking about. Until then, however, he would be patient. He was sure someone was bound to hear about it.
"I can't thank you enough." Trelawny assured.
"Where have you been?" Dutch asked.
"Oh…around!"
"And where are you staying?"
"I'm renting a caravan on the outskirts of town, behind the church. It's horrible," Trelawny sneered. "But no one comes around. The whole town is trapped...in this interminable feud between the Grays and Braithwaites."
"Interesting."
Dutch's interests were piqued, beyond any normal amount. And the wheels in his head began turning and scheming, concocting a new plan most likely, one that had a chance of failing. Let's face it, about 95% of his plans failed miserably, even though none of them wanted to admit it.
"Two old plantation houses falling out over rebel gold and marrying cousins and not marrying. That sort of thing–"
"Arthur, Hosea," Dutch called. "You two start poking around...see what you can find."
"I have missed you boys. I've heard about the bounties." Trelawny worried out loud.
"There's been a price on my head for thirteen years," Dutch recalled. "It'll take 'em months to find us down here."
"Well, they're good bounties."
"Where did you hear this?" Dutch asked.
"Some sellers I met at a camp near the state line. They said there was talk of it in saloon's up in the North and over in the West," Josiah rubbed his hands together. "There was even talk of super agents.."
"Super agents," Dutch remarked. "I'd love to meet one. It's just talk."
"I'm sure it is, but I couldn't not tell you."
"Just stay out of trouble." Dutch warned.
Josiah thanked him and Arthur, then left in the direction of his home.
"So these two plantation families–" Dutch began. "Hosea, see what you can find out about these Gray and Braithwaites characters."
"Quite the fishing trip–" Arthur sassed.
Dutch shrugged. "Well, there's still time, if you're up for it. I'm up for it."
"How about you, Arthur?" Hosea asked. "Or have you had enough for one day?"
Arthur scoffed. "It's never enough...so sure, let's go fishin'."
Things may not be okay and they may never be okay, but for now, he could get lost in his own little world and catch some fish.