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They’re walking down the dirty streets of Saint Denis when she stops, taking him by the arm and asking: “Is it too late for us, Arthur?”
Stunned, Arthur replied with the best answer he had - the truth, “I can’t lie to ya. I’m a wanted man, Mary. If I…” He remembered Jamie’s comments after finding out the fates of Bessie and Annabelle, and what had happened to Sean in Blackwater, “if anyone close to me, well, they’re wanted too and I can’t have you wrapped up in that.” His heart almost broke again when he saw hope leave her face, eyes worried and tired, “But it’s coming to an end. This time, it really is.”
“Run away with me, Arthur. Run away right now, and don’t look back,” she pleaded, and even though he had never wanted to say no to her, this time, he really had to.
“I want to..” he took her hand in his, meeting her eyes, “More than anything, I want to.” His voice broke and he felt pathetic. He never had Hosea’s charm or Dutch’s way with words, but he tried his best, “But I’ve got some people I need to take care of.” John, Abigail, Hosea, Charles, Lenny - everyone in camp was shattered after Sean’s death, and it wouldn’t be right by them to leave them to fend for themselves. They were family. “Once they’re free, then I’m free, then I can disappear.”
“But, Arthur…”
“If we’re gonna run away anywhere, we’d need money, and soon, I’ll have some.”
She turned her head away from him, clutching his hand tightly, “I know you won’t run away.” She let go of his hand and he felt helpless, walking behind her like Cain trailed behind Jack for scraps, “But it’s a pretty dream.”
“Very pretty. But I will, once I get some money. Now, I had some, but then some fool got it trapped into a town that I can’t go back to.” He saw the tram out of the corner of his eye and begged whatever god was out there for another minute, “That’s another story.”
She looked at him, really looked at him, the way only she could, smile lines faint as she spoke, “I’ll write you.”
“Yeah,” his voice was barely a whisper as she left his side and stepped on the trolley, looking back at him with sadness, like she was looking at the faded memory of someone dear. He feared he would never see her again.
And then he was alone.
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“I don’t know how to thank you,” Penelope Braithwaite grinned as she took the gun from his hands and climbed into the carriage. She was young, but hopeful and fearless - she had more of a brain than most men Artur knew, perhaps even himself, and she used it to fight. She would know if and when to use that gun.
“You’re a fine man, sir,” Beau Gray added. He was young and naive, but stupidly in love with Miss Braithwaite, and he respected his dedication to her.
He’d helped the two escape the hell that was Rhodes, their cursed home-town, and after fending off their cousins, bought them a stagecoach to the station that would get them to Boston, where they could live together and wax poetry - in Beau’s case - and cause a ruckus protesting - in Penelope’s case.
Arthur laughed half-heartedly as he remembered his comparison between them and Romeo and Juliet, supposing they got their happy ending after all, “Just get out of here.”
He watched them go, waving to Penelope as she stuck her head out of the carriage and waved, hand on her blue tophat as she laughed, on her way to a better life with her lover.
And now Arthur was left alone at Riggs Station. He quickly let the clerk know the state of the stationary train, feeling guilt as he recounted a tale of vengeful bandits who shot the poor engineer - not exactly the truth, but it was accurate enough. However, after a brief consideration of what was left to do in Annesberg, he couldn't bring himself to get on his horse and leave just yet.
Annesberg was sad and dreary. He’d visited on request of Calloway, of his own behest to visit the general store, and then once again to take down Cornwall. Dutch was now cooking up a scheme with Eagle Flies after catching wind of his and Charles assisting him and Rains Fall against the army, and Arthur wanted no part in it. He had little reason to return to camp anymore except to see John, Abigail, Sadie and sometimes Charles - though even he was spending less and less time there - and had taken to sleeping on the road with his things more often than not.
There was a cigarette card on the bench next to him. He already had it, it was nothing but a duplicate to him, but he pocketed it anyway, with the sapphire bracelet Braithwaite had gifted him.
He sighed as he heard another stagecoach stopping at the station, taking at his sign to finally get a move on, but what he saw made him stop dead in his tracks.
“Arthur?”
On the wooden steps of Riggs station, in a snow-white blouse and black skirt, was Mary Linton, with a bag and a worn expression.
She dashed over to him as quickly as her skirts would allow, hand landing on his forearm. “Oh, Arthur, you’re alive!” she exclaimed.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, turning away to quickly cough into his arm, feeling like more of a fool than ever, “I wasn’t aware that I had died yet, Mary.”
“I sent you a letter,” she averted her eyes, hands flexing on the handle of her bag, “But you never came. After reading the newspaper I thought that you had run away or…or died.”
Arthur shook his head, “Almost. There was a robbery and a shipwreck - a long and not very interesting story.” He looked around, resting his hands on his belt, “Where are you going? Back home?”
Mary sighed, sitting down on the bench. Arthur, always one to listen to her, sat back down, “No.” She was wearing the broach he had bought back in Saint Denis, to fasten a bow at her throat, “Barry…he had a home in California, out West. With Jamie leaving home, I have no reason to stay with Daddy, not after Saint Denis.” She nodded, a wistful look in her eyes, “And you, Arthur?”
“Oh, I'm just peachy, Mary,” he laughed, again turning away from her. His hands felt empty, so he lit a cigarette, disguising how awkward he felt, “I think I’m leaving too.”
“You’re not well,” she said quietly, and Arthur chuckled - she had always been observant.
“The gang isn’t what it used to be - there’s nothing for any of us there anymore. I’ve been saving up money to get John and his family out, but there ain’t nothing else I can do.” The taste of tar felt ugly in his mouth, as bitter as the words that left his mouth, “If I'm lucky, and a bullet doesn’t kill me first, I guess I’ll leave civilisation and live out my last days a hermit.”
“Oh, Arthur,” she whispered, putting a hand on his arm. Her eyes were glassy with tears and worry lines creased her forehead, and suddenly Arthur regretted telling her. She shook her head, exhaling as if to will away tears, “In the letter I wrote you…I asked you to run away with me, again, to meet me in Strawberry. I knew that even if you said no it would give me - us - a chance to say goodbye. I came here today to…get closure, I suppose. I thought you were dead. I wanted to write a letter, send it off and never look back. But you’re here!”
“Didn’t intend to come this far,” he grumbled, “But some people needed my help, and it wouldn't be right by them to leave them alone.”
“Then…” For once, she looked lost for words. She was usually so well-spoken, eloquent and prepared, he hated to see her so lost because of him. “Let me help you now, Arthur. There’s good people in the west.” She took his hand, “We can disappear, together. Chicago, or maybe California!”
“I don’t want to hold you back because of what we had. I’m not a good man, Mary.”
She clasped her gloved hands together, looking down at her bags, “We’re both different people to who we once were, Arthur. Just this once, let someone help you. Maybe we can finally live out that dream. Jamie would be happy to see you. And I would like it too.”
In that moment, looking at maybe the only girl he ever loved, Arthur made a choice.
<3
To Mrs Kilgore,
By the time you read this letter, I will be on a train to someplace far from here. I’m leaving the camp, the gang, and, if my sins never catch up to me, the life of an outlaw. Our time is coming to an end, like H said it would, and there’s nothing we can do to stop the gang tearing itself apart.
S, take care of yourself, and don’t let this life ruin you no more. There’s more to living than revenge.
J, protect Abigail and Jack. There’s money in my wagon for the three of you to take and run, before it’s too late. You’re my brother, and I’m sorry I’m leaving you behind. Abigail, you have a good head on your shoulders, and a good life ahead of you.
C, you were always a good friend to me, and I’ll never forget all you did for us. I hope you run too, if you haven't already, and I hope I see you again.
Tilly, Mary-Beth, save Karen if she ain’t already too far gone.
D, start listening to those that love you. I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me.
And the rest of you, good luck. Don’t let the law get to you, and live your life as best you can.
From A.M.
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