Ellie's plan firmly in place, she'd spent the rest of the night with Maedlyn and the others.

Wyatt got escorted out with the rest of the outsiders shortly after dark, per their deal. He managed to make it out without starting any fights, though Ellie heard a heated word or two coming from their table.

After that, she'd been 'drinky Ellie,' as Maedlyn calls her. She doesn't like appearing like that in public, but sometimes, after two or three whiskeys, she stops caring. She'd danced with Maedlyn to Oh Sherrie by Steve Perry like she didn't have a care in the world. She twirled her around. Maedlyn was beside herself.

Abby had this big stupid grin, watching the two of them. Lev clapped at first, then got out and danced with them.

Ellie might have thought she should be crying, but it didn't feel like that. It's like the song. Sad, but it doesn't feel sad. She's got a little something. A little secret in her pocket. And it feels like hope.

She took Maedlyn home around ten like a proper girlfriend, and her little face was all smiles like it's meant to be. It was a good night, but Ellie also knew she'd have to get up early.

Ellie might have gone back to the outsider camp that night, but both Lyle and Wyatt warned her not to do that, plus the drink had gone to her head. So she woke up before dawn on Saturday, gotten her gear together without waking Maedlyn, and headed to the stables.

Barthas was sleeping when she got there, but he woke up with a little start. She wondered whether she should bother taking him, but when she started to leave he started to make noise. Guess he didn't want to miss it. She'd smiled.

Ellie didn't need much excuse to go out of the walls, even early when she's not on patrol, but she'd lied anyway and said she just wanted to take an early ride. That arched Walter's brows, but he'd ordered the gate opened.

She makes a lot better time to the outsiders' camp on Barthas's back. The air is crisp that morning, the stars slowly receding from their place in the heavens. Dawn would break soon, but she wouldn't see the sun over the hills for a couple hours.

She'd expected them to be sleeping, this early, which would have been fine, she could just wait them out. What wouldn't have been acceptable is for her to be too late, after they'd gone.

What she found, though, is all the tents to be knocked down and the crew to be in the middle of preparing to hit the road.

This early, really?

It's the first pang of worry. They really aren't wasting any time leaving. She notices something that wasn't here the last time she was at camp; an honest to God horse wagon, with canvas cover and everything. Must be what they brought their heavy trade in on. I guess the boys were on time after all.

She gets some looks from the men, but no one approaches her, not even Victor, though he gives her a long look over the crate he'd been tying closed.

She finds Lyle checking a crate full of bottles she guesses are some kind of liquor. He turns when he hears the horse approaching, and the look on his eye suggests he was hoping he wouldn't see Ellie this morning.

"Ho there," says Ellie easily.

He thumps the crate's lid back down on it. He makes a gruff sound of greeting.

"You boys don't waste any time."

"Not lately," says Lyle. "Ellie, I thought you'd be sleeping in this morning."

Hoping that, were you?

"I'm a pretty early riser. You all look like you're making ready to hit the road."

"We are."

"You already make your trade?"

"The boys got in last night. Made the trade before the gate closed," says Lyle.

Ellie nods. He was hoping to be gone before she got up, she suspects. "Got time for a talk?"

He twists his head in an expression that says 'not particularly.' He looks over at Victor, but if he was looking for an excuse, that doesn't seem to be what he finds. "Not with you on top of that horse, I'm not."

"Of course not," says Ellie, swinging down on the stirrup. She walks Barthas over to a fallen tree and ties him off. She makes a gesture toward the woods.

Lyle has a look like his instincts are pulling him away, but without any further gesture he walks over to join her.

Wyatt's just come back from some place, setting down a few sacks of something or another. He eyes Ellie keenly, then starts walking over.

Ellie tries to hide the twitch in her cheek. She's still angry with him about last night. "I'm here for Lyle, not you," she says to Wyatt.

"You don't talk to him without me present. Come now, Ellie, you oughta know better than that."

Ellie looks to Lyle for confirmation of that little assertion, but he doesn't look at her.

"What you want?" Wyatt asks her.

"Not here."

"Here's fine, I think."

Ellie disagrees, and ignores him, walking into the trees. She hears Lyle following her.

She takes them out forty or fifty feet, where the sounds of the work at camp are dampened. It's dim in here, in the dawning light. There's a cool, blue glow to the trees, green leaves forming a loose canopy to the strengthening sky.

"Well, Ellie?" says Wyatt with little patience.

"Be here, if you will," says Ellie, "but let's be clear that I am not talking to you." She turns to Lyle.

He's never looked less trustworthy. His weathered face is sagging, cynical eyes locked on her between folded lids. His head hangs, like he doesn't want to look at her directly. Like that first night. He's still wearing his hat, making his face harder to see.

Ellie's scared. More scared than she's been in a long time. Not like Wednesday, in West Jackson. Like she was the first time they came to Jackson, when Joel tried to pawn her off on Tommy. When the stakes were much higher.

But she's carrying a determination that will not relent.

"What's this about, Ellie?" asks Wyatt.

Ellie doesn't look at him. "When are you coming back?" she asks Lyle.

"Never," says Wyatt.

Ellie snaps. "When I want to hear you–"

"Enough," speaks Lyle finally, not loudly, but as clear as anything. "Enough. I'm not fit to listen to you two bicker." He shifts his feet. He reaches up and removes his hat, casting more light on his face. He looks out to the trees like a man who knows there's no way around what's in front of him, like it or not.

Feelings are warring in Ellie's chest. She's painfully mad at Wyatt, but she can't let herself be distracted. Her question hangs in the air.

Lyle meets her eyes. "Not likely ever, Ellie."

"Why not?" she says, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.

"Because it's not safe," he says plainly, like she should understand.

She's quivering inside. "Safe as anywhere," she says.

Wyatt scoffs.

"Not for us, it ain't, and you know that, Ellie," says Lyle, firmly. "Jackson safe for Jacksons. It ain't like St. Louis, it ain't like Chicago. Shit, it ain't even like FEDRA zones was, before we fell from grace." He grips the rim of his hat. "Cowboy country, cowboy law. We're lucky we got out as we did, and we don't count on luck once, let alone twice. Never been in so much danger as when we spied Jackson and you rode up on us like you did."

"Isn't it kind of strange," says Ellie, feeling light-headed, "that it was me that rode up on you, of all people?"

A tired, pained look passes over his face. "Strange enough."

"Didn't it turn out okay?" Ellie says. Her voice is wavering.

The skin around Lyle's left eye tightens. "Only for a spell."

Ellie's heart is pounding. In her head, this would go better. In her head, she had all the words. All the words she'd ever need. But they're gone now, far away. And she's feeling helpless. A feeling she hates most of all.

Lyle's eyes twitch. "You want to come with us, that it?"

Ellie shakes her head. "I won't leave Jackson."

"Didn't 'spect so," says Lyle.

"But I don't want you to leave," she says. A sort of bottom drops out of her as she says the thing she really didn't want to say.

Lyle's mouth softens, as well as his eyes, coming to form a look that hurts Ellie about as much as anything she's ever seen.

Pity.

"Well we aren't staying," he says softly.

Ellie wonders how many women he's said that to before. "What's out there?" she asks desperately. "What's out there that could be better than safe housing and steady meals?"

And a daughter, she doesn't say.

"Freedom," says Wyatt. It's not his usual mocking tone. It's almost somber. His expression isn't spiteful. He's got a weak smile. Cause he knows he's won.

Lyle's face doesn't change.

Ellie's trembling in the legs, now. She's run through it all, everything except the last, last, last thing.

She steps forward, tears in her eyes, and clasps her hands in front of him.

"Please come back," she begs. A tear escapes to her cheekbone. "Please."

She can't put a lifetime of loneliness into words, but she knows it's there in her eyes. She knows she's desperate, she knows she's pathetic, she doesn't care. This has to work. It has to.

For an instant she sees moisture in his eyes as well, and the shadow of a smile as he looks down. She gets this sick feeling in her stomach that this is something he's gotten good at. He meets her eyes one last time.

"Sorry, Ellie," he says softly. He pulls her in and kisses her once on the forehead with scratchy whiskers.

He turns away, and starts walking back to their camp.

Wyatt offers her one last little smirk, tips his hat, and follows his dad.

Ellie's stunned and her limbs won't move. She's shaking. There's an echoing sound in her ears. She's crying openly.

She looks down at her hands. He didn't even leave her something to remember him by.

After retrieving her horse in humiliation, unable to hide her tears and not meeting anyone's eyes, Ellie began the ride back to Jackson.

For half the ride, she quivered on Barthas's back. She's feeling cold. Where the dawning land had been full of promise that morning, now it's a bleak, empty landscape.

Barthas is jumpy. He keeps looking at her over his shoulder. Twice he stops his canter and steps around in circles, neighing at her. She's barely the strength to snap the reins and get him moving again.

About the time they get to the bottom of the ruined highway leading past the Gros Butte hills, he does it again.

This time she doesn't stop him or his racket, as she's consumed in a whirlwind of her own.

It's wrong. This is wrong. This is something that can't happen. It won't happen again. She won't meet another Lyle.

Her lip quivers, the cold wind stinging the tears on her face. She looks North, whence she'd come. An idea sparks. Then another.

Barthas is neighing and huffing, making agitated sounds. "Quiet!" she commands, thinking now. He listens.

She looks back at Jackson. She breathes in short bursts. She looks back they way they came. She turns again, to Flat Creek, its rim just visible in the distance. It's dry now, but its bed runs down through Jackson. On the Southeast side, it splits into Cache Creek. She knows it well. As well as the thing it hides.

Her eyes dart. She's got that feeling, that dead man's bravery that comes with the utmost desperation.

Her heart is crying out.

It could work.

"C'mon!" she cries, pulling Barthas's reins. "C'mon, boy!" she turns him around and he's good for it, bouncing off hind and forelegs. She points him back north, and they break into a gallop.

Wyatt is the first one to see them, the train mostly put together now. "Are you fucking kidding me, Ellie?"

He rides out to meet her, bully-like, diverting her and Barthas to the side.

"You really think you're gonna come with us, that it?" he asks her.

He's trying to keep her from Lyle, but she's on fire, and she's not even mad at him for it. "No," she says honestly. One thought of Maedlyn and JJ and that's just not a possibility. "No, I came back with a deal."

"We don't need any damn deal you got on offer, let me tell you–hey!" He shouts at her as she moves Barthas around him.

"I'll let them be the judge of that," she says.

More eyes are on her now as she approaches Lyle and the others at the front of the train.

Lyle's got a keen, worried look on his face as she pulls up.

"I've got a proposition," she says without preamble.

"Vic, you want me to knock her out?" Wyatt asks, coming up behind her.

Victor holds up a hand to silence him. She spoke to Lyle, but it's Victor that responds.

"What are you on about, girl?" he asks.

"I can help you unload your goods."

"What the fuck you think you're looking at?" he asks, gesturing to the wagon.

"The rest of them," says Ellie. "The ones they wouldn't take at desk."

That stops Victor. He looks at Lyle.

Lyle looks back at him, a wary expression on his face.

"Explain," says Victor.

"I can get things inside the walls without the guards sorting through them, that clear enough?" asks Ellie.

Victor measures her for a few moments. "Prove it," he says.

"I ain't showing you my route," says Ellie with some contempt. She's not an expert, but she's got an idea of how this works.

Victor snorts. "And who's your contact, inside?"

"You tell me," says Ellie. "You were the ones roustin' about for three days. I'm sure you… made some acquaintances."

Victor hangs in his saddle, his eyes not leaving Ellie.

"But if you don't, I suspect I could–"

Victor wags his hand as if to say 'don't bother.' He looks at Lyle.

Lyle's staring right down at the dirt, chewing on his lip.

"Daddy, don't let her–" starts Wyatt.

"This ain't up to you, boy!" barks Victor. "Lyle, that come off sound, to you?"

"That's a 500 mile cut," says a man at the back.

"What's the market," Lyle mumbles.

"Fuckin' two thousand people in that town, at least," says another man.

Victor stares at Lyle, who seems to be finding the field underfoot quite interesting. "Lyle, I'm not saying shit unless you say so. You understand me."

Lyle nods slightly. Finally, he lifts his head with a long breath and looks at Ellie. "Girl, you understand we do this, not one of us sets foot in Jackson ever again. Or even this valley, likely."

It's not what Ellie wants, but it also makes good sense. She nods, fighting the urge to swallow.

"And you must understand the terms," he looks at her sharply. "The full terms."

A keening falsetto sounds inside Ellie. But her will is not broken. She nods again, sure as the grave.

Lyle looks her over for a few moments more, then turns back to Victor.

She's not sure what Victor sees, but slowly, he breaks into a smile. He turns to Ellie. "Well, then, why don't you run with us for a minute, outrider. And we'll have us a little discussion."

Victor heads on, and Lyle follows him, his expression a dreadful sober. Some of the other men seem quite pleased with this development, though, carrying sudden smiles on their faces.

Wyatt for his part, is not pleased. He won't look at Ellie, but his whole face is flushed red in anger, and his mouth is a thin line.

Ellie walked back through the gate with no trouble. Grady hadn't even given her a second look, just opened the gate.

After the… talk, she'd walked Barthas pretty much the whole way back. He'd been a little twitchy. He knows something is up. He knows. He hadn't hesitated when she needed him, though, he rode like the wind to catch that caravan.

It's after feeding time, and the patrollers have all been sent off. There's no sign of Clem or Maitland, or any other hands. She opens the stable herself and walks Barthas to his stall without turning on any of the lights. The windows shuttered against the cold, it's hard even to see the floor she's walking on, but yellow light filters in through the windows.

After removing his saddle, she goes to close Barthas's gate, her outside it, but she feels a movement and his teeth on her shirt.

"Alright, alright…"

She opens the gate back up and walks back in, stroking his mane with her hand. He smells like hard work, and the great open plain.

She gets to work on him with the brush. The low light plays off the tops of his mane, and he hangs his head, enjoying the treatment.

"How about this time?" she asks him. "You mad at me this time?"

He turns just slightly toward her.

"You don't know what I just did. Of course." She keeps working on him, eyes on her task. No matter how she focuses, she can't see the tiny hairs of his side, but she can feel them under the brush.

"First will be letters. To Russell, and John Luxley. If they agree—like I think I will—the next run will be a lot heavier.

"I haven't checked that tunnel in months but I'll be damned if anyone else has found it. Nobody goes to the Hauser property cause it looks haunted as fuck. Plus the basement is a ruin. But if you know how to get in, and you know how to move the concrete slab just right, where that old tunnel is, it'll take you… it'll take you outside."

Barthas grumbles.

"I know, I know… against the rules, all that. I don't think… I don't think you realize how against the rules it is…"

Her hand stops. She sees Corsten Hughes dangling from the rope, face purple, tongue lolling from his mouth.

Barthas turns to her, a yellow glint off his big eye the only thing she can see.

"I'm gonna be careful, okay?"

He stares.

"I won't let you down, boy."

He makes a worry snort.

Well, that must make two of them, because in the twinkling light she can just see her fingertips trembling.

"I'm gonna take a cut," she says, resuming her brushing. "Not that I need it or even give a shit, but it would be suspicious if I didn't. But hey—" she looks up at him with her half-heart smile, "I can buy you something nice. How about that?"

He snorts disdainfully.

She rubs his warm, soft side wither her bare palm, then rests her head against it, closing her eyes.

Her face tenses up. It's not just herself she's risking. If anything happens, if she makes a mistake…

She thinks of Abby, and Dina. She winces.

She thinks of Maria, and JJ.

"No," she says to no one.

Barthas breathes under her, powerful and easy.

Her face hardens. "I can do this," she whispers. She opens her eyes, standing up. Barthas is watching her. "Do you believe me boy?"

He snorts anxiously.

"If anyone in Jackson can do it, I can. It's not… ideal, but I have to. I had to, you understand? You understood out there, didn't you?"

He had tossed and rocked, crying with her like he understood her pain.

"Just for now. Just until we can make something better, in the future… I can… just give me time, I can convince him to stay, longer…"

That's going to be hard, given these risks.

She winces again.

"It's not going to be easy, but it's how it has to be, it…" Her face softens. It's true. "It's the only way, for now." She strokes Barthas's soft side. His eyes are scared, but he's trusting her.

He meets her resolve.

"The only way."