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strangesthirdeye · 13 hours ago

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CHAPTER 18: What Lies Beyond the Fence

The Cipher Between Us

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The sun crept gently over the treetops, casting golden shafts of light that pierced through the Spanish moss hanging from the cypress trees. A thin mist hovered just above the calm lake, drifting lazily like a ghost reluctant to leave. The camp was quiet - not silent, but resting. You could hear the soft snore of someone still asleep in their tent, the rustle of canvas in the breeze, and the occasional chirp of birds beginning their morning song.

The campfire had burned down to warm embers, still glowing faintly. Coffee simmered on the pot, sending up an inviting scent that mingled with the earthy smell of dew-soaked wood and distant swamp water. Somewhere near the shore, Pearson was already grumbling under his breath as he prepared breakfast, clanging pans louder than necessary. The faint sound of Hosea's chuckle drifted through the camp, likely reading something amusing in the paper he'd gotten the day before.

Arthur's horse whinnied softly near the hitching post, and across the camp, Mary-Beth and Tilly were beginning to stretch and chat by the wash line, voices hushed and fond. In the distance, someone practiced whistling a tune, maybe Javier.

It was a slow morning - the kind that wrapped itself around your shoulders like a warm blanket, whispering that for just a little while, you were safe here. The gang's troubles hadn't reached Clemens Point yet, not fully. For now, it was just another morning on borrowed time.

The breeze rolled in gently from the lake, tugging at the edges of the tents and rippling the surface of the water with a lazy hand. The warmth of the sun started to press down through the tree canopy, burning off the last of the fog. The quiet buzz of insects had returned, and the scent of damp pine, brewed coffee, and frying salt pork filled the air. The camp was beginning to stir to life.

You were seated on a log near the edge of camp, your hands wrapped around a tin mug of coffee, enjoying the stillness - until footsteps crunched behind you.

"Hey," Dhani's voice called casually.

You turned your head to see her standing with her rifle slung lazily over her shoulder, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. Her sleeves were rolled up, and she looked ready for the day, the early sun catching in her wild hair.

"Want to go hunting?" she asked. "I was gonna head out alone, but I figured you might want to stretch your legs. You've been hunched over that journal for days."

You considered it for a moment, letting your gaze drift across the camp - past Charles feeding his horse, Hosea still chuckling over his paper, and-

Your eyes landed on Sadie. She was seated by the fire, sharpening a knife slowly with a focused intensity. The wind tugged at her shirt - one of her newer ones, rugged and fit for travel, sleeves rolled and boots already caked with mud. She looked restless.

You looked back at Dhani and said, "Why don't we ask Sadie to join us?"

Dhani blinked, then nodded in agreement. "That's actually a good idea," she said, glancing towards Sadie. "She looks like she's been ready to stab Pearson all morning."

You laughed softly, already standing. "Then let's give her something better to stab."

You walked across the quiet camp, the early sun casting long shadows over the dew-soaked grass as birds chirped from somewhere in the trees beyond. The woodsmoke from Pearson's fire hung low and bitter in the air, curling around the cook wagon like a warning sign. You passed Kieran, who was silently brushing down one of the horses with the kind of focus only someone trying to stay out of trouble could muster. He gave you a cautious nod. You returned it and kept walking.

Sadie was still by the fire, seated on an overturned crate with her boots planted firmly in the dirt. Her knife moved over the whetstone with slow, precise movements - the kind that came from someone who had nothing better to do but didn't want to sit still. Her eyes flicked up as you and Dhani approached, the morning light cutting across her face and catching in her hair.

"Morning," you greeted with a gentle nod. "Looks like you're ready to gut Pearson if he says the wrong thing."

Sadie's lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk forming. "If he throws another hissy fit about the stew being too salty, I just might."

Dhani chuckled, adjusting the strap of her rifle. "Well, we thought we'd offer you something a bit more satisfying than stew duty. We're heading out - tracking, maybe hunting. Just to stretch our legs a bit."

Sadie raised an eyebrow. "You invited me?"

"Of course," you said, settling onto the edge of a log near the fire, careful of the embers still glowing beneath the ash. "You've been cooped up too long, and frankly, I don't think Pearson's the one who deserves your knife this morning. Not to mentioned after what happened yesterday" you whispered the last part to Sadie.

Sadie leaned back slightly, resting her elbow on her knee, and looked between the two of you. She's in a new outfit now probably she asks Dhani if she has any pants and clothes that she doesn't use on her. A hat rested beside her on the crate, and she glanced down at it as if weighing her decision.

Dhani raised her eyebrows. "so?"

"You two any good with tracking?" she asked after a beat.

Dhani grinned. "Depends. Are you asking because you want help, or because you want someone to beat?"

"Bit of both," Sadie said, rising and scooping up her hat. She placed it on her head with a firm tug. "Alright. Let's go see if we can find anything worth shooting."

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You headed out just after sunrise, following a narrow trail that snaked south of camp. The water was thick with the scent of pine and mud, the kind of smell that only came with the marshes and the still water of the Heartlands. The earth squelched underfoot in places, and the occasional bullfrog croaked from hidden pools deeper in the trees.

Dhani took point, her steps light and confident as she scanned for signs of movement - broken branches, hoofprints, anything. Sadie trailed behind you at first, quiet, but not cold. Just thoughtful. Occasionally, her eyes would flick around the trees like she was expecting something to lunge out at her. You didn't blame her. She'd been through hell. But here, outside the camp, she looked like she could breathe.

"You do this often?" she asked suddenly.

"Hunting?" you glanced at her over your shoulder. "Not as much as I used to. But tracking, yes. Comes in handy for more than just deer."

"Like solving your little cases?" she asked.

You smiled. "Exactly."

"You really think they're gonna give you anything useful, that sheriff's office?"

"Maybe not," you admitted. "But people talk when they think no one's listening. I just have to make them think they're not being watched. Besides, I don't really trust the Sheriff here to deal with my brother's case. Even if they have a lead, it's probably irrelevant or doesn't make sense because this case.. It's private and carefully managed by the mastermind."

Sadie looked at you with something that resembled respect - not admiration exactly, but a shared understanding. She'd lived by similar rules. Listen more than you talk. Watch before you strike.

After a while, Dhani stopped and knelt by a patch of disturbed mud.

"Deer," she said. "Couple of them. Fresh. If we move quickly, we might catch sight before they bolt."

Sadie perked up instantly. "Let's move, then."

You spent the better part of an hour stalking the edge of a clearing, eventually bringing down a doe - clean shot, no panic. Sadie looked almost surprised at how calm it all felt. After the chaos of recent days, a single, clean hunt was a relief.

You helped dress the animal while Dhani kept watch. When you handed Sadie a cloth to wipe her hands, she took it with a small nod and didn't speak for a while.

"This... this helps," she finally muttered, almost too low to hear.

You looked up at her, brow furrowed.

"Being out here. Doing something real. Not being treated like a burden."

"You never were," you said quietly.

She didn't answer. But the next time she looked at you, she smiled. Just a little.

By the time you returned to camp, the sun was high and the camp was alive again. Someone was playing a fiddle. Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly were doing laundry. Arthur was crouched by the fire, polishing his revolver. He looked up as you three returned - deer in tow - and his brow raised.

"You took her hunting?" he asked.

"No," Sadie said firmly, climbing down from her horse. "They brought me hunting. I'm not anyone's passenger."

Arthur gave a slow nod. "Good. You look better."

Sadie snorted. "Better than Pearson?"

"Everyone looks better than Pearson," Dhani called over her shoulder.

You handed the reins to Kieran who already pampered Luna with sugar cube and stretched your back. The day was just beginning, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like you were all starting to live again - not just survive.

You lingered near the hitching post, brushing the sweat from your brow as Sadie and Dhani made their way towards Pearson's wagon with the deer in tow. Pearson grumbled at the sudden workload, but you could tell he was secretly grateful for the fresh meat.

Arthur stood from where he'd been crouched by the fire, brushing off his jeans. His eyes followed Sadie for a second - noticing, no doubt, the shift in her bearing. She walked like someone who had taken back a part of herself. Strong, grounded.

"She's really finding her feet again," you remarked softly.

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Reckon it was never her feet she lost. Just someone to remind her she still had 'em."

You glanced sideways at him, a small smile curling your lips. "Was that a compliment or are you finally turning poetic on me, Mr. Morgan?"

He scoffed with a soft chuckle. "Don't go makin' a thing of it."

"Too late," you teased, brushing past him with a knowing look.

Arthur followed you, hands tucked into his belt, a rare air of ease about him. For a while, the two of you just walked along the edge of camp, the gentle sounds of the others fading behind you - the clink of coffee cups, the muffled conversation of Mary-Beth and Tilly, Charles softly sharpening his blade.

You were admiring the lake with Arthur beside you admiring the lake but his eyes darted between the lake and you. You had sensed his stared turned to him and what caught your eyes was not his face instead, your eyes were focused on his chest.

There, the word deputy on his chest. A gold star-shaped patch on the side of his chest. You raised your eyebrows at him.

Arthur followed your gaze, then down at the star-shaped badge pinned to his chest - the gold glinting in the soft morning light. He scratched at the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish.

"Ah. That," he said with a half-grumble. "Don't get any ideas. Ain't like I joined the law."

Your brow quirked higher, amused. "You're wearing a deputy badge, Arthur."

He huffed a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, well, Dutch reckoned it'd be smart if we played nice with Sheriff Gray for a while. You know... make ourselves look useful. Lawful, even. Just for show. Makes things easier when we poke around."

You crossed your arms, still smiling. "So this is you playing dress up?"

"Exactly," Arthur replied dryly. "Don't expect me to go handin' out fines or writin' tickets. Hell, I'd sooner shoot my own foot."

You laughed under your breath, then leaned slightly towards him. "You do look the part though. I can see it. Lawman Morgan."

He scoffed. "Don't you dare."

You bumped your shoulder into his, just lightly. "You're gonna be very convincing when we start sniffing around the Gray family."

Arthur's lips twitched. "Guess that's why Dutch gave me the badge. Told Dhani the same thing. She's got one too, y'know."

That made you pause. "Wait, Dhani's a deputy too?"

"Temporarily," he added quickly, like he needed to defend the very idea. "Sheriff Gray's not exactly what you'd call the most thorough when it comes to hiring folks."

You turned back towards the lake, the grin not leaving your face. "You, Dhani... next thing I know Sadie will be a sheriff and Dutch will run for mayor. Dhani didn't tell me this."

Arthur snorted, and for a moment, there was only the lap of the water and the birds chirping in the trees behind you.

Then his voice turned quieter. "I, uh... I figured I'd ask if you'd wanna come with me later."

You glanced at him. "To where?"

"To Caliga Hall," he said, his tone measured now. "That Gray family's sittin' on somethin'. Dutch wants us to dig around. Hosea's already makin' nice with them, but we could use another pair of eyes."

"And you want mine?"

Arthur looked at you then, really looked. "Always do."

The moment stretched - gentle, not heavy, but something warm and unspoken lingered in the space between you.

You nodded. "Alright then. You and me. Deputies-for-hire."

Arthur tipped his head slightly, a crooked grin forming. "Let's not make a habit of it."

And with that, you both turned from the lake, walking back towards the rhythm of camp, side by side - two outlaws wrapped in borrowed titles, pretending to be something they weren't... but maybe, for once, doing it together.

The sun had climbed a little higher by the time you and Arthur mounted up and began the ride towards Caliga Hall. The morning fog had mostly lifted, leaving the swamps near Clemens Point steaming and golden, as if the earth itself were exhaling. The horses trotted steadily along the path, hooves thudding quietly on packed dirt while cicadas hummed in the distance.

Arthur rode just ahead, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were still behind him. "You ever been out this far?" he asked, his voice calm, casual.

"Passed by once with Dhani," you replied. "Didn't get too close though. Heard the Gray family runs it like a kingdom."

Arthur let out a dry snort. "Yeah, well, they act like it too. Hosea says if we play it right, they might be useful. Dutch thinks there's opportunity stirrin' between them and the Braithwaites."

You rode up closer beside him. "And what do you think?"

Arthur shrugged, lips pressed into a tight line. "I think rich families fightin' over dirt don't usually end well for folks like us. But if it gets us money and gets us out clean... I'll do what I gotta."

You nodded quietly, and the two of you rode in thoughtful silence for a while, until you crossed a low wooden bridge arching over the swamp. The water was thick here, heavy with the scent of moss and stagnant water. A few herons scattered at your approach, flapping into the reeds.

Arthur's eyes drifted sideways again. "You ever wonder what it'd be like if we weren't in this mess?"

You blinked. "You mean... the gang? The running, the shootin', the whole outlaw life?"

He nodded once, slowly. "Yeah. If things were different. If we could just... live. Somewhere quiet. No more hiding. No more Pinkertons."

You chewed on that for a second. "Sometimes. But then I think... maybe I wouldn't have met you all if life had gone another way."

Arthur gave a soft laugh, almost like it caught him off guard. "That's one way of looking at it."

He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but up ahead the whitewashed fences of Caliga Hall came into view, and whatever thought he'd been nursing vanished beneath the new weight of business.

"There it is," he muttered. "Let's keep it polite. Let me do most of the talkin', unless someone starts shootin'."

You grinned. "Then I shoot first and talk later?"

Arthur smirked. "Exactly."

As you approached the gates of Caliga Hall, the plantation revealed itself in full: rows of tobacco stretching to the horizon, overseers on horseback watching from porches, and a sense of quiet power that clung to the place like humidity. Arthur's jaw tensed slightly as a Gray family guard looked your way.

He leaned closer to you in the saddle. "Whatever happens in there... just follow my lead."

You gave a small nod, fingers twitching near your holster, not out of fear - but readiness. Because Arthur Morgan asked for your help. And whatever came next, you'd face it together.

The guard looked at you two with alarm. "What do you want, eh? This is private property, interlopers are not permitted."

Arthur looked at the Guard. "This here the Gray plantation?"

"Yup. Caliga Hall. And that's as close as you're getting to it." The guard held his rifle tightly.

Arthur nodded. "Sheriff's orders. He wanted me to have a word with some people on the property. I'm recently deputized, you see."

"Deputized? And I suppose Leigh was drunk when he did it... look, you can come in, but you ain't talking with me." the guard said.

The other guard eyeing you. "and what about her" he pointed towards you.

Arthur shifted slightly in his saddle, resting a hand over his belt near the shiny deputy badge glinting against his chest. His jaw tensed, but his voice remained calm. "She's with me. She's helpin' with the talk."

You straightened in your seat, meeting the guard's stare evenly. "We've got questions. Sheriff Gray sent us both."

The guard scoffed. "Sheriff Gray sendin' a woman to poke around Caliga Hall now, is he?"

Arthur's expression darkened. "You wanna argue with your boss, be my guest. But if there's any more trouble stirred up on either side of this feud, you'll be the one the Sheriff rides out for."

The guard hesitated, eyes flicking between the badge on Arthur's chest and the steady confidence in your gaze. Finally, he huffed, then stepped aside with a reluctant grunt. "Fine. But don't go wanderin' where you're not welcome."

Arthur tipped his hat. "Wouldn't dream of it."

You both nudged your horses forward, entering the heart of Caliga Hall. The scent of tobacco and damp earth filled your nose. Workers scattered through the fields, overseers watching from horseback. A few men on porches gave you curious glances as you passed by.

You leaned slightly towards Arthur. "So, where do we start?"

Arthur glanced at you. "I don't know.. Let's just ask these workers."

You nodded and followed Arthur. Soon, you meet a worker\ who is carrying fertilizer. Arthur got off his horse while you were still on your horse.

"Hey, can you talk?" Arthur asked bluntly.

You are silently cursed. "way to talk to people"

The worker looked at him annoyed. "I look like I can talk? You want a talker, try Beau Gray. Out by the store houses. Man Won't lift a hand, but sure can move his lips."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "okay" he walked back to his horse. He looked at you. "what?"

You sighed. "nothing.. Just well, let's just go to these store houses"

Arthur swung back onto his saddle with a grunt, muttering something under his breath about "talkers" and "damn fancy families." You urged your horse forward beside him, the two of you weaving through the worn paths between tobacco fields and barns, dust trailing behind your hooves.

The morning heat was beginning to settle into your clothes, and the scent of manure clung stubbornly to the water. You passed more workers - most barely glanced up, shoulders hunched, eyes down. This place didn't exactly radiate hospitality.

Soon you found a young man, leaning against the crate with hands writing in a book.

"Reckon that's our talker," Arthur muttered.

You nodded and followed him Arthur dismounted his horse and walked towards the man. You slid off Luna and patted her before tailing Arthur.

"I see you at the Sheriff's Office?" Arthur said.

The young man diverted his attention from the book and settling his gaze on Arthur.

"Excuse me, friend." the man said.

"We friends?" Arthur raised his eyebrow.

You nudged him. "don't"

"Not yet, but here's hoping." the man smiled.

Arthur looked at your pointed look. He sighed, knowing the look you gave him. The look that says "don't be rude"

"I guess" Arthur replied.

"We don't get a lot of traveling men here... then suddenly there's a whole phalanx of mysterious... but strangely helpful Yankees about the place. I'm Beau Gray and you?" Beau looked at both of you.

Arthur ignored the last question. "Is there?"

You looked at him resignedly before smiling at Beau. "Y/n" you deliberately did not reveal your surname.

Beau nodded his head. "What're you doing here?" his question is aimed at both of you.

"we are just looking for work." Arthur said simply.

Beau chuckled. "Well, looking for something. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Arthur sharpened his eyes. "What secret?"

"I've got a secret of my own." Beau gestured towards his book.

You narrowed your eyes. There is a letter with neat handwriting on the book. He clearly write nothing in the book instead he write a letter.

Beau closed his book and placed it on the crate next to him.

"Are you secretly normal?" Arthur shot.

You darted your gaze at Arthur. "Arthur.." You looked at Beau with pity. "sorry about him.. He just said what came to mind"

Beau chuckled and waved his hand. "it's okay" he peeked his head toward his mansion. "The thing is... I don't care if you kill the whole lot of us... and the Braithwaites."

You coughed into your palm when you heard that. Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"we don't wanna kill anyone." Arthur said.

"we simply looking for work" you added.

You looked at Beau with quiet sympathy, the sadness in his eyes making it clear this wasn't just some youthful fling. It was the kind of pain that settled deep, like something he'd been carrying far longer than he should have for someone so young.

"I'm guessing it's not someone else," you said gently.

Beau shook his head, the ghost of a bitter smile on his lips. "She's a Braithwaite. I'm Beau Gray, son of Tavish Gray... nephew of Leigh Gray the sheriff... grandson of old Murdo Gray. And she Penelope Braithwaite, our rival. We Grays have been loyal to the State... and murderers to the Braithwaites for so long now... no one can even quite explain why. Beyond blind loyalty... and stupidity. I'm supposed to be loyal to some nonsense, while she... She's amazing. She's like a woman from the future. She's like... tomorrow, if tomorrow turns out fine."

Arthur let out a slow exhale. "Well, I'm sorry for your predicament."

Beau looked up at both of you with a weary kind of defiance. "We sneak letters, meet in the grove past the fence line when we can. It's dangerous. She could be shot. I could be beaten, or worse. But I don't care."

"You love her that much?" you asked softly.

Beau nodded. "More than I've ever loved anything. She's the only part of my life that makes any sense."

Arthur shifted his weight, uneasy. You could tell he was thinking - maybe about Mary, maybe about the pieces of himself he left behind. "Sounds like the two of you need more than letters."

Beau looked at him. "What are you saying?"

Arthur glanced at you, as if waiting to see whether you'd object. But you didn't - because even if it was foolish, even if it was reckless... you understood what it meant to want something real in a world like this.

"nothing.. " Arthur said.

Beau nodded his head and looked back at his mansion before he looked at the two of you. "Would you help?"

Arthur shook his head. "I don't wanna get involved in gang feuds... it seems unseemly."

Beau's face fell, but he tried to keep a sliver of hope in his tone. "It's not just about the families. It's about love. And if you've ever had something you'd do anything to protect, then maybe you understand."

Arthur was quiet, his jaw tightening slightly. You knew that look - the one he wore when something hit too close to home. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he glanced at you again, as if searching your face for what to say next.

You gave a small shrug and stepped in gently. "We can't promise anything, Beau. But if there's a way we can help that doesn't involve a war... maybe."

Beau stammered as he tried to find another sentence. "I'll pay... I've got money. We Grays, we've always got money... no brains, mind, but money. Well, in that case... I know she loves to sit out in the gazebo... on the edge of the Braithwaite property. Take her this letter... and this bracelet." he walked towards you and handed you these two items. "Please. Look out for their guards... they're worse with strangers than ours are! So long. And good luck."

Arthur looked down at the letter and bracelet in your hands, then back at Beau with a sigh. "You sure this is gonna help and not make things worse?"

Beau ran a nervous hand through his hair, clearly unsure of himself. "If it means she knows I'm still trying, then yes... yes, I'm sure."

You nodded and tucked the letter and bracelet carefully into your satchel. "We'll do what we can."

"Thank you," Beau said, voice quiet but sincere. "You have no idea what this means."

Arthur turned, mounting his horse with a grunt. "Don't go shootin' anyone while we're gone."

Beau chuckled awkwardly. "I'll try."

As the two of you rode off, Arthur was quiet for a time. The road wound through fields of tobacco and thick swampy trails, the hum of cicadas rising around you. Finally, he spoke.

"He's got it bad."

You smirked. "And you don't think it's worth it?"

Arthur shrugged. "Love's a fine thing, sure. But it doesn't always end like them penny novels Mary-Beth reads."

His voice had a tightness to it, the kind you'd come to recognize - when he said something but meant more. You didn't press it.

Instead, you said, "Well... maybe it's not about the ending. Maybe it's about fighting for it while it lasts."

Arthur glanced at you, eyes unreadable. "You sound like Hosea."

You smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The ride continued in silence, but something had shifted between you - something subtle but felt. The weight of the letter in your satchel seemed heavier now, not just with Beau's hopes, but with something else... something Arthur still wasn't saying.

And maybe that was okay - for now.

Up ahead, the trees thinned, and in the distance, you could see the edges of the Braithwaite estate. The gazebo sat at the edge of the property, delicate and pale against the sprawling green.

"Reckon that's her?" Arthur pointed towards the gazebo.

You hummed. "that's what Beau said."

Arthur nodded his head and led you towards the gazebo. As the two of you approached, the horses' hooves softened against the grass, the thick canopy overhead filtering sunlight into golden dapples. The gazebo stood like something out of a storybook - painted white, with curling vines wrapping around the posts, and Penelope Braithwaite seated at its center, her dress spread like a fan beneath her.

She hadn't noticed you yet, her gaze fixed on the water ahead. A book rested in her lap, but she wasn't reading. She looked lost in her thoughts, the kind of melancholy that could only come from loving someone you weren't allowed to.

Arthur dismounted first, tying his horse loosely to a nearby tree. You followed, careful with your steps, watching Penelope with guarded sympathy.

Arthur turned his head slightly towards you. "You want to give it to her? Or should I?"

You glanced at the satchel. The letter. The bracelet.

"...I'll do it." You stepped forward.

Penelope's head lifted at the sound of your approach. Her posture tensed at first - wary, defensive - until she saw that you weren't a threat. Just a stranger... with something meant for her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, voice soft, though edged with suspicion.

You smiled gently. "Are you Penelope Braithwaite? Beau sent me. He... asked us to deliver this." You reached into your satchel and pulled out the folded letter and the bracelet, handing them over.

Penelope blinked, surprise flickering in her expression. She took them carefully, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment.

"From Beau! Oh, he is so.. I... Thank you. Truly. He's brave to send someone... considering the state of things." She looked down at the bracelet and then back at the letter. "He said he'd write, but I didn't think he'd follow through."

Arthur leaned against one of the gazebo posts, arms crossed. "Seems he's more serious than he lets on."

Penelope gave a faint smile. "He always was a strange one. A good heart... just misplaced." She looked at you. "Thank you for bringing this. It may not look like much, but... it means the world."

You nodded. "You should write back. Something tells me he's hoping for that."

Penelope tucked the bracelet into the pocket of her dress and held the letter to her chest. "I will. Oh, Beau... he's a little strange... but also, so human. The rest of our families are stuck in the Dark Ages, or... well, I don't know... cave people, perhaps. Beau's different, but if they find out... they'll kill him, and send me to live someplace awful like... Ohio. Have you ever been to Ohio, Miss? Sir?"

Arthur shook his head. "no"

You smiled at her. "once"

"Well, I've never been, but my uncle has a factory there. He was sort of the black sheep, on account of having left... but now they tolerate him, because he's a vicious snob. Families are... are... they're something else! Have you got a family, Miss? sir?" Penelope looked down.

"no"

"yes" you and Arthur said at the same time. Arthur and you looked at each other.

Arthur blinked and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I mean... had," he mumbled. "Long time ago. Still got sister"

You looked away, the corner of your mouth twitching. "I still do," you said quietly. "Not the best sort, but... we're tangled up, one way or another."

Penelope let out a small sigh, her fingers still curled around the letter. "It's strange, isn't it? The people we're born to... they shape us, but they don't always know us."

You nodded. "Sometimes, they don't want to."

Arthur exhaled slowly, a brief flicker of something behind his eyes-old wounds, maybe. "Or they don't care to try."

Penelope looked between the two of you, her expression suddenly soft. "You two... you understand, don't you? What it means to love something - someone - and not be able to hold on to it."

Arthur didn't answer right away. He just looked at you for a long, silent second. Not quite ready to say what you both already knew.

Penelope sighed as she fiddled with the letter and the gift with her hand. "well, they tolerate him, because of the money... but me, with my ideas above my station, they can't stand."

Arthur huffed a breath. "That sounds pretty complicated, I.... I don't know quite what to say."

Penelope looked at both of you. "Well nothing to say, except I hope they all rot. I-I don't... well... maybe a bit... but here... if you see Beau again, will you give this to him?" she holds out a letter to both of you.

You stepped towards her and took the letter carefully. You offered Penelope a gentle smile. "We'll get your reply to Beau. You just... stay safe."

Penelope nodded, tucking the letter into the folds of her dress. "And thank you. Both of you. For helping something good survive, even if it's just for a little while."

As you turned to leave, Arthur lingered just a moment longer, glancing back at the gazebo and the girl clutching her hope like it was fragile glass. Then he followed you, boots crunching on the gravel path.

Once you were far enough from the house, and the trees swallowed up the Braithwaite estate behind you, Arthur finally spoke.

"Funny, isn't it?" he said.

"What is?"

He flicked his reins gently, the rhythm of the horse's gait steadying beneath him. "How people like that-rich, sheltered-can still feel like prisoners."

You nodded. "Love's got a way of leveling the field."

Arthur looked over at you, something thoughtful and unreadable in his eyes. "Yeah. I reckon it does."

The ride back was quieter, the air heavier with thoughts not said, feelings not confessed. But even in the silence, you knew-you were both thinking about the same thing.

The ride back to Caliga Hall was quieter than before, but not in a heavy way-more like the silence of a lull after something delicate has passed between you and Arthur. The kind of quiet that doesn't need filling.

The horses' hooves beat a soft, steady rhythm into the packed dirt path as you made your way through the trees. Golden afternoon light filtered down through moss-draped oaks, painting the trail in broken patterns of shadow and sun. A soft breeze rustled the tall grass and stirred the leaves, bringing with it the faint smell of tobacco fields and something faintly sweet, like honeysuckle in bloom.

Arthur rode a little ahead of you at first, one hand loose on the reins, the other resting against his thigh. His hat tilted forward slightly, casting his face in shadow, but you could still make out the occasional glance he threw your way-quick, unreadable, like there was something perched on the tip of his tongue that kept retreating.

You rode in companionable silence, the leather saddle creaking beneath you every now and then. It wasn't tense. If anything, there was a softness to the quiet. A sense that you were both letting the moment breathe.

Eventually, Arthur spoke up, his voice low but calm. "You ever think about... just ridin' off? Away from all of this?"

You looked at him, surprised by the question. "Sometimes."

He nodded, like that was enough of an answer.

As the trees began to thin and the open stretch of Caliga Hall came into view again, the plantation looming in its southern pride and decay, the weight of reality began to settle back over your shoulders.

Duty. Plans. The Gray family. Whatever Dutch wanted.

But for a moment-just that quiet, golden moment-you and Arthur shared something unspoken on that ride. Something about the ache of wanting more and the fear of reaching for it.

Caliga Hall's white pillars and wide fields stood ahead, but behind you still lingered the ghost of a gazebo, a girl holding a letter to her chest... and maybe something else unspoken between you and Arthur. Something that would have to wait.

Soon, you two were in front of Caliga Hall. The same guards looked at you with caution. Especially at you because it was a bit strange seeing a woman with a temporary deputy perhaps. Arthur the one who spoke first before the guards asked a question.

" You know us, we're on official business, for the family." Arthur stated as he held his reins tightly.

The guard on the right nodded his head to the side as if to release Arthur's statement. "come on" he replied.

Arthur nodded gratefully then flicked the reins for his horse to move. You watched the guards for a moment before muttering 'thak you' to them not missing the look they gave you. Somewhere between caution and lust was visible there and yet you ignored it.

Now you two were in Caliga Hall looking for Beau Gray who Arthur nodded his head towards the stable where Beau was attending to the horses. Arthur led you to the stable and hitched his horse and you near the stable. He glanced at you.

Arthur's glance lingered a moment longer than usual. It wasn't the kind of look meant to be subtle-it was weighted, thoughtful, like he was still carrying pieces of the conversation from earlier, or maybe the ride back. His jaw shifted slightly, tongue running behind his teeth as though he was trying to decide between words... and silence.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked, voice low, almost lost under the chirr of cicadas and the soft stamping of horses nearby.

You gave him a faint smile. "I'm okay."

Arthur nodded, then looked away briefly before muttering, "I saw the way those guards looked at you." He didn't say it like a question, or even a warning-just a quiet, simmering note of awareness.

"I noticed," you said, brushing some dust off your coat sleeve. "I'm used to being underestimated. Doesn't bother me."

Arthur gave a small huff, almost a smile. "Don't mean I like it, though."

Before you could respond, a familiar voice drifted over the stall doors.

"Miss! Mister!" Beau Gray's voice was soft with surprise, his expression hopeful as he emerged from behind one of the horses, brush still in hand. He wiped his palms down his vest and offered a breathless smile.

"I... wasn't sure you'd make it back," he said. "Is she alright? Penelope, I mean. Did she... say anything?"

Arthur looked at you, silently offering you the space to speak first.

You nodded. "She took the letter and the bracelet. She... seemed touched, Beau. Said she'd write back."

Beau's shoulders slumped with relief, and his eyes shone a little with hope. "Thank the Lord. She's got more courage than the rest of us combined." He paused, then looked towards Arthur. "They didn't see you, did they? The Braithwaites?"

Arthur shook his head. "No problem. We were careful."

Beau breathed out slowly, placing the brush back on a hook by the stable wall. "You've done me a kindness, both of you. I know it might not mean much with all that's going on, but... thank you. If you ever need anything around here-anything at all-I'll do what I can."

You gave him a nod, appreciative. "Let's just hope your family and hers don't find out before you two figure something out."

Arthur muttered under his breath, "Or before they start shooting again."

Beau winced. "Yes... quite. Still, I won't stop trying."

You took out Penelope's letter from your satchel. "Here, her letter" you handed it to Beau who excitedly took it carefully as if it were made of diamond.

"Thank you, Miss" he said appreciatively before he tore open (carefully) the envelope and began to read the contents of the letter,eagerly. His face changed upon reading the letter, he shook his head several times. "My God... what a woman. She's... This'll get her killed for sure. Women's suffrage. Round here, they don't even like men voting. They'd bring back the monarchy given half the chance. Progress is a dirty word in these parts... unlike incest."

You grimaced at this. "err.."

Arthur frowned. "excuse me?"

But Beau seemed to keep on rambling, worriedly. "I don't wanna marry my cousin Mathilda. I wanna marry Penelope. But they're gonna... They'll kill her at one of those rallies they're holding. They've done it before. Mister, you gotta help."

Arthur sighed through his nose, clearly already regretting his involvement. He shifted his weight, casting a quick glance at you, as if hoping you might say something to discourage the boy. But you didn't. Not exactly.

"Well," you said slowly, "she's certainly braver than most men I've met."

Arthur gave you a look, half amusement, half irritation. "We ain't exactly in the habit of organizing protests, Beau."

"But you do dangerous things!" Beau insisted, stepping forward, letter clutched in his hands like scripture. "This is dangerous too-different, yes, but real. She's going to the rally today. At the park, just outside town. She said it in the letter. And if someone doesn't help watch her back..."

He looked at both of you now, pleading. "She's got no one else."

Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This ain't what I signed up for."

"No, but it's what you stumbled into," you said gently, placing a hand on Arthur's arm. "And he's right, Arthur. She's going to get herself hurt standing up for something good."

Arthur stared at you for a long moment, jaw working, eyes unreadable. Then he muttered, "Goddammit."

Beau almost lit up. "You'll help? I'll pay. My family, we've still got some money."

"We'll watch," Arthur clarified. "We'll be there, but if bullets start flying, that's it. I ain't dyin' for a speech."

"I'll take it!" Beau exclaimed, already running to untether his horse. "The rally should start soon. It's not far. Please-just be close enough to step in if things turn sour."

Arthur groaned and followed after him, muttering to you under his breath, "You better hope this speech is short."

You smiled faintly as you followed. "It's not the first time you've gotten tangled in someone else's romance."

Arthur gave you a sideways look. "Yeah? And what about mine?"

You opened your mouth to answer-but he was already striding ahead.

Arthur caught up to Beau and grabbed the reins of his horse, stopping him before he could mount up.

"Alright, calm down, boy" Arthur said firmly, voice edged with irritation but not without sympathy. "You ride in there all breathin' like a spooked mare, you're gonna get her more trouble than she already has. You wanna protect her? Then breathe."

Beau froze, blinking, and took a deep, shaky breath. "I can't be calm! If we don't get there in time, my true love may be shot-"

"If she wants to rally, you got to let her rally." Arthur replied.

You approached beside them, giving Beau a quick glance. "And remember what Penelope's risking. Don't let your panic ruin her moment. This isn't just about love - it's about her."

Beau swallowed hard but nodded. "Right. Right... thank you, both. It's just.. I can't let her become a martyr to it. I want to marry a flesh and blood woman, not a statue in her honor."

Arthur nodded. "I'm sure they know what they're doing."

Arthur mounted up and gave you a look - one you'd seen many times before. A mix of reluctance, grit, and a trace of something unspoken. "Let's go before I start thinkin' with my own damn heart too much."

You chuckled softly, mounting your horse. "Too late for that, deputy."

Arthur gave a grunt in response, but you saw the way his lips twitched - not quite a smile, but close. Then, with Beau leading the way at a cautious pace, the three of you rode out, heading towards the outskirts of Rhodes where Penelope and a revolution in bonnets and banners awaited.

The sun was now high, casting a warm glow over the dusty road as your horses trotted into the open field outside Rhodes. Up ahead, a modest gathering was forming - women in pale gowns and bonnets clutching handmade signs, voices raised in determined protest.

Penelope stood at the front, tall despite her nerves, holding a placard that read Votes for Women! Her eyes lit up when she spotted Beau riding in slowly, flanked by you and Arthur. She gave a small, encouraging smile, as though his mere presence had steadied her.

Beau slid off his horse and walked towards her, a little stiff with nerves. You and Arthur held back, staying near a tree for cover - keeping a careful eye out while giving the couple space.

"Beau, what are you doing here?" Penelope stepped towards Beau. Her face light up soon she near him.

You and Arthur watched this interaction.

"I cannot let you go through with this... you'll be killed." Beau stated as he took Penelope's hands.

Penelope stroked the back of his hands and shook her head. "I'm prepared to die for the cause, Beau. You know that."

Beau shook his head before he looked at you two anxiously. "Do something, please." he begged.

You looked at him with sympathy. "Beauty.."

Arthur raised his eyebrow. "Do what? Fight this mob? They'd eat me alive." he gestured towards the women.

You looked at him unexpectedly but your mouth twitched almost smiling at his comment.

Beau sharpened his gaze on Arthur. "This is no laughing matter, sir. They need protecting from certain elements. Mostly my family. Penelope, I beg you." he pleaded.

Penelope stepped forward towards you two. "I'll tell you what... your friend here can drive the wagon for us. It'll allow us to shout all the louder." she suggested both of you including Beau.

Arthur glanced at you for a moment to ask for help from you but you only looked at him like 'don't look at me, you're the one who wants to get involved in this man's business family'

Arthur sighed in defeated. "sure" he looked around the place.

Penelope clapped her hands excitedly. Saying thank you many times before she moved toward the woman who wore a sash at the center revolution.

" Ms. Calhoon... my friend here says he can drive the wagon. " she informed the leader of this protest, Ms Calhoon.

Mrs. Calhoon looked towards Arthur unexpectedly. "Olive Calhoon. Normally, I like to drive myself... but today, I feel like a man joining us... sends the right message." she said proudly.

Arthur nodded his head as he stood awkwardly in the center of the female protester. "Well, I ain't never been in a protest march before, madam."

You looked at him with amusement.

"Well, just treat us like the sheep... and the folks attacking us like the wolves... and I'm sure you'll feel right at home. Shall we go?" Mrs. Calhhon raised her eyebrows.

Arthur nodded his head. "alright," he walked towards the wagon but not before he looked at you. "you coming, woman?"

You nodded your head, smiled gently at him. "Yes, I'll follow behind with your horse, don't worry. You just drive this wagon wherever Ms. Calhoon tells you to."

Ms. Calhoon gave a proud nod at your words. "Good woman. Loyal and steady - the kind we need more of." Then she turned to address the group. "Ladies! Let's move with purpose, but also with grace. Remember, our cause is just and our manner must match it. We know our song is a good one... and we know our cause is a pure one. "

The procession began to take shape. Women fell into line behind the wagon, their signs raised high, their voices humming with nervous excitement. Arthur climbed up onto the wagon seat - stiffly, like a man about to wrestle a bear instead of driving a cart full of ladies through town. Still, his jaw was set, and his eyes flicked towards you with something that looked like admiration... and maybe just a dash of exasperated affection.

"Alright, ladies," Arthur muttered under his breath as he took hold of the reins. "Let's try not to get ourselves killed."

You brought his horse up behind the wagon, riding Luna and fell in beside it, one hand steady on the reins, the other near your holster - just in case. Arthur caught your eye briefly as the wagon rolled forward and gave you a small, almost reluctant smile.

The women around him began to chant, slowly at first, then with growing unity:

"Liberty, justice, and the vote!

Raise your voices, raise your hope!"

"votes for women!"

"We Worth More!"

"Respect Your Worker!"

As they moved through Rhodes, townsfolk turned their heads, some in confusion, others in outright disapproval. A few laughed. A few spats. But no one stepped forward - not yet.

Arthur steered carefully, eyes flicking towards every alley and porch, the tension in his posture obvious to you, even through the measured pace of the wagon. "Never thought I'd be part of a marching choir," he muttered loud enough for only you to hear.

"You're doing fine," you called lightly. "Though you could smile more. Might charm the crowd."

"I'll smile when this is over and nobody's bleeding," he grumbled.

Ms. Calhoon who sat next to him looked at him. "Now, now. Take us down Main Street, right through town to the steps of the Bank of Rhodes, Mr... what was your name?"

"Arthur Morgan" he replied as he drove the wagon to the main street.

"And your wife, there, what's her name?"

"Y/n Holmes" he replied again.

Mrs. Calhoon nodded her head. "Very good, Mr. Morgan. Not too quick and not too slow. We need them to hear our voice. You and your woman are great helpers in this march" Ms. Calhoon said.

Arthur gave an awkward grunt that could've been thanks or discomfort - maybe both. He adjusted his grip on the reins, guiding the wagon at a slow, even pace. The wooden wheels clattered against the dirt and gravel as they rolled down Main Street, echoing off storefronts and drawing every eye in town.

You trotted just behind them on his horse, lifting your chin slightly as you caught the attention of townsfolk. Some stared, slack-jawed. Others sneered. One man in a waistcoat spat into the dirt and muttered something under his breath.

Arthur kept his eyes forward. "You reckon this is helpin' their cause or gettin' us both tarred and feathered?"

Ms. Calhoon smiled tightly. "Change never comes without a rattle, Mr. Morgan."

You called up from beside the wagon, lips curved into a wry smile. "Besides, you look quite dashing surrounded by women fighting for justice."

Arthur grunted again, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch - the closest thing to a smile he was willing to show right now.

Behind you, the women's chants grew louder, more focused.

"Votes for women! Rights for all!

Let no voice be small!"

The crowd on the sidewalks grew thicker. Some folks clapped politely, others just watched with crossed arms. A group of young boys jeered from near the saloon, tossing pebbles in the direction of the march. You shot them a warning look, your hand not far from your holster. They backed off.

"Very good. Very good. Mr. Morgan are you an old friend of the Movement?" Mrs. Calhoon glanced at him.

Arthur shook his head. "I'm just a driver, Ms. Calhoon. And maybe a shotgun messenger if it comes to it... but I hope it won't."

Now they have reached where they should be. Arthur slowed down the wagon.

"Our message will be delivered peacefully, Mr. Morgan. You can keep your shotgun to yourself. Stay on Main Street. It's a left up here, Mr. Morgan. Look at these people. It's about to get exciting... I can feel it." Ms. Calhoon stated.

Arthur nodded. "I believe you might be right."

As the wagon came to a stop, Ms. Calhoon stood and raised her hand to silence the chant.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Rhodes," she began, her voice steady and proud, "we come not to take, but to demand what is rightly ours - a voice, a vote, and a future not dictated by men alone!"

Applause burst out from the women. A few claps sounded from the townspeople. Sheriff Gray scratched his chin, unimpressed.

Arthur looked back at you, brows raised in a silent question. ' How long before this goes sideways?'

You met his gaze and shrugged faintly, your own eyes scanning the crowd for trouble. But for now, things held steady.

"Head home! Head home!" shouted the old man there.

"Oh, do give it a rest. You sorry fool! Mr. Morgan, I give you the male of the species." Mrs. Calhoon said.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "That's a pretty dumb specimen, I grant it."

"Come on, boys. It looks like the circus is in town."

"Go home!"

"You shut your mouth. What are you doing here?"

"What the hell is going on?"

"Oh my God. Whatever you say... you don't even know what you're saying."

"Come on, get outta here. You should be with your children."

"go home!"

Ms. Calhoon ignored those comments, instead, she stood her ground in the center town. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is a great day for all of us. For today is the day we begin to live as equals."

"Equals? Ha!"

Ms. Calhhon looked at the crowd of people in front of her professionally. "Yes, equals, sir. Fair and equal."

"This is unnatural... this is nonsense."

Ms. Calhoon kept on standing her ground. "Fair, equal and free... just as the Founding Fathers intended."

"Founding Fathers, not Founding Mothers... you silly old goat."

"That's right, you tell her!"

"Hey! What the hell are you doing here, boy?"

You and Arthur looked at where the voice came from. You saw two men, middle-aged and with a familiar look that they had just like Beau. You observed they were probably someone Beau knew.

Beau looked at the two men and rolled his eyes. "Hello, darling cousin..."

"Don't you ever speak to me like that! What are you doing here?" Beau cousin questioned.

Beau replied without looking at him. "Listening, I suppose..."

Penelope who stood not far from you and Arthur watched the interaction with worry before she looked at Arthur. "Go help Beau... his cousin is a moron... and stop them from ruining the speech."

Arthur sighed and nodded. "sure" he walked towards Beau.

"Poor him being treated like a weak child by his own cousin" you muttered.

Penelope sighed sympathetically. "indeed"

Arthur walked towards Beau. "Beau. Weren't we just leaving?" he looked at Beau with raised eyebrows.

Beau glanced at Arthur and so was his cousin.

Beau's cousin tilted his head. "Who the hell is this?"

You watched Arthur and Beau interact, your eyes darted towards Ms. Calhoon who's snapping and talking over the crowd firmly. Being a woman is hard when it comes to protesting because women's voices are often muffled by the crowd. And they can't express their own opinions without being judged. That's.. That's really fucked up if you tell me.

You stared at the crowd. But then you felt something like you were being watched. Your eyes were directed to the crowd in front. Everyone is watching Ms. Calhoon but four pairs of eyes seemed to keep on glancing at your group and Ms. Calhoon. You scanned the two people hidden in the crowd. They both wore some sort of formal long suit, complete with a tie and the whole outfit somewhat colored between gray, black and white. They both also wore flap hats on their heads. At one look you knew they weren't local people here because no such local people wore clothes like that in this place unless they were from Saints Denis.

Instantly, the voices of the crowd became muffled as you focused only on the two men. One of the man glanced at you and his jaw clenched, eyes sharpened. He had dark green eyes, white skin with a sharp nose and thin lips. He was quite tall.. probably not taller than Arthur but still taller than you. One minute you were both in a staring contest and finally the man diverted his eyes from you to whisper something to his partner. His partner who's the same height glanced at you and smirked.

Your eyebrows arched down before your reality returned to Arthur and Beau who were walking towards you and Penelope.

"we need to go" Arthur informed.

Penelope was still waving, flushed from the thrill of it all, her eyes bright and tearful. Beau clutched her hand like he was afraid she'd vanish if he let go. But your focus didn't waver. Not yet.

"Right," you murmured absently, nodding to Arthur as your hand instinctively shifted toward your sidearm. Your gaze flicked back to the crowd.

The two men were gone.

Just like that.

No trace of them slipping away. No shifting of the crowd to mark their exit. Like ghosts evaporating back into shadow.

Arthur noticed your stillness as you walked beside him and furrowed his brow. "Hey," he muttered low, "you alright?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you glanced once more over your shoulder at the square.

"I saw two men," you said at last. "Didn't look local. Dressed formal, dark coats, flap hats. The way they were watching us... watching me-"

Arthur's jaw tightened. "Pinkertons?"

"I don't know," you whispered. "But they weren't here for the rally."

Arthur guided you gently but firmly away from the gathering. "Then we keep our heads down. Beau said there is a place where we can get away from his cousin"

Beau and Penelope followed, still too caught up in the romance of their rebellion to notice your shift in demeanor. You tried to shake the tension off your shoulders as the four of you moved away from the square, the chants of Ms. Calhoon and her suffragettes fading behind you.

But the moment gnawed at you.

Those men knew something.

Not about Penelope or Beau, but about you.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, maybe to reassure you-but then his hand hovered at his belt too. Maybe he felt it too, now. That cold prickle at the base of the neck. The kind that only meant one thing.

You were being watched.

Again.

"Arthur," you said quietly, as the stable came into view, "when we get back... I want to go through that letters Sherlock send me when we're in Horseshoe. The one I didn't tell you about yet."

Arthur blinked, glancing sideways at you. "Another clue?"

You nodded grimly. "Maybe. Or maybe it's nothing. But I have a feeling it ties into all of this. Into them. Whoever they were."

He didn't question you further. Just gave a single nod.

Beau and Penelope were whispering sweet nothings behind you, clinging to one last moment of peace before their families inevitably came crashing down on them again.

But for you and Arthur... something had shifted. Something darker was stirring.

And the cipher between you?

It was starting to crack open again.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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