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strangesthirdeye · 7 days ago

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CHAPTER 19: Crimson Dust

The Cipher Between Us

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You found Arthur down near the edge of the trees where the camp lanterns gave way to shadows and the wind from the lake stirred the reeds with a hush-hush voice. He was fixing a bait line for the next day, crouched over it with his back to the water, sleeves rolled and face quiet. You stood a moment just watching, letter folded in your hand like it had burned your skin too many times already. You didn’t speak until he looked up and caught your gaze.

“I need you to read something,” you said, and held the folded pages out like a confession. “It’s from Sherlock. Came back when we were still up at Horseshoe, but I didn’t know how to say it out loud until now.”

Arthur’s brow twitched as he stood, brushing his hands on his trousers before taking the letter from you. He didn’t ask anything — just opened it and started reading with that slow, careful patience of his, like a man defusing a wire he knew might blow.

He read the first few lines in silence. You could almost see the shape of the words reflected in his expression.

You were right to follow your instincts. What you suspected is not paranoia – it is precision…

He let out a quiet breath through his nose when he reached “Fort Wallace.”

“Fort Wallace,” he muttered under his breath, then looked at you. “That name’s come up before.”

“It keeps coming up,” you said quietly. “Sherrinford was stationed there just before he died. I always thought the timing felt… off. Too convenient. But this—” You tapped the page. “Sherlock found a memo. Buried. Misfiled. It proves Sherrinford was reassigned last minute — not by protocol. Not by accident. By Colonel Beckett Granger.”

Arthur looked down at the letter again, reading further. His eyes moved slower now, tracking every word like they were footprints.

“Promotions with no merit… Transfers after quiet incidents…” he read aloud. “Granger’s in charge of the place.”

“And always in the background,” you added. “Sherlock said he’s not famous, but he’s everywhere. In files, in decisions, always in things that don’t make sense. Like a shadow behind every mistake that never got punished.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened slightly. He nodded once, slowly. “Same day as the guard schedule was changed, huh?”

“Changed quietly. Pencil. No initials. And that was the same day a complaint showed up about missing arms — but it vanished. Never followed up. Just disappeared.”

You exhaled through your teeth. “Sherrinford was sent onto that train, Arthur. Put there deliberately. Not to protect anyone. To be killed.”

Arthur folded the letter but didn’t return it. His hand stayed closed around it like he needed to hold something solid. He looked up at you again, and this time there was something darker behind his eyes.

“That fire,” he said, voice low. “Your flat. Sherlock says it wasn’t just to scare you.”

You shook your head. “I was already riding back to Blackwater when it happened. By the time I got there… ashes. Everything. My files, the maps, the names. They wanted to erase it all. Me included.”

Arthur’s voice turned hard. “They’re tryin’ to bury this whole thing.”

“Exactly. And I’m the last piece they missed.”

The wind off the lake picked up again, colder this time. You turned your face into it, then added, “There’s more. At that protest in Rhodes — with Beau and Penelope. I saw two men. They weren’t locals. Gray and white suits. Long coats, formal. One of them stared at me too long. Like he recognized me. Then whispered something to the other. And the other one smirked.”

Arthur stared at you. “You think they’re part of this?”

“I think they’re not strangers. I think they’re watching."

“You remember their faces?” he asked.

You nodded. “One of them had sharp green eyes. The kind you don’t forget. He looked at me like I’d already ruined something for him.”

Arthur was silent a moment, then said, “Sherlock says not to go to Granger.”

“He said Granger’s methodical. Arrogant. Thinks he’s covered his tracks.” You looked at Arthur. “But that’s the kind of man who always leaves a trail — because he thinks no one’s smart enough to follow.”

Arthur looked away toward the water, then back again. “So what’re you gonna do now?”

“Track. Listen. Wait.” You swallowed. “Sherlock included a list of names. People who vanished, transferred, or ended up dead after getting too close to something. I think the next step’s buried somewhere between those names and Fort Wallace.”

Arthur stepped closer and looked down at the letter one last time before folding it tighter and tucking it into his coat.

“You tell me if those men show up again,” he said. “And whatever you need to do next — I’m in.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “I was afraid you’d say it was too dangerous.”

He shook his head. “Too dangerous is ridin’ into a storm with no damn clue why. But you got one. And now I do too.”

You both stood there for a while, letting the stillness settle between you, until the sound of the lake and the trees swallowed the camp again. Somewhere behind you, someone called for Hosea. But here — in the dark edge of Clemens Point — it felt like the war had just begun.

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You slipped into the tent quietly, careful not to rattle the flap or creak the floorboards beneath your boots. The oil lamp burned low, casting warm flickers across the fabric walls. Dhani was already tucked beneath her blanket, one arm folded under her head, eyes half-lidded but alert the moment you entered.

You shrugged off your coat and stepped toward your cot — but paused. Something glinted on the side table beside her.

A badge.

You blinked, then leaned in slightly, not quite believing what you saw. A deputy star. Clean. Official. Stamped with the weight of the Lemoyne County Sheriff’s Office.

You turned to her slowly. “You didn’t tell me you’re a deputy.”

Dhani cracked one eye open, then groaned softly, flipping onto her back. “Forgot to mention it.”

Your brows shot up. “That’s something you forget?”

She rubbed her face and muttered, “Well… women rarely got that position, anyway. And it wasn’t like I signed up for it.”

You stared at her.

She exhaled and propped herself up on one elbow. “It was Dutch’s idea. Said it might come in handy if the Grays ever needed a little convincing. You know how he is — 'play the part, keep the peace, buy time to rob 'em blind.'” Her tone dipped into a faint imitation of Dutch at the end, mocking without much effort.

Your eyes drifted back to the badge. “So you and Arthur not the only one?”

“Hardly,” Dhani said, reaching for the flask by her cot. “Bill’s got one. Hell, even Dutch wears his when he’s trying to act respectable.”

You scoffed. “Dutch? Respectable?”

She snorted. “Exactly.”

You picked up the badge gently, running your thumb over the engraved star. “And you? You just said yes?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Dhani muttered, settling back down. “We needed a reason to be near the Grays without raising suspicion. Dutch said lawmen’d get close to the family. They'd trust lawmen. Especially male lawmen. Arthur and Bill took theirs easy enough. Dutch handed me one last, said it’d sell better with a girl who looked like she’d never held a gun.”

You tilted your head. “But you have.”

She met your eyes. “Exactly.”

A long silence stretched between you. The crickets hummed outside. Somewhere down by the lake, a frog croaked once.

You sighed and placed the badge back down where you found it. “Feels strange… everyone playing lawman while I’m sitting on letters from my brother and planned murder.”

“Yeah,” Dhani whispered, rolling onto her side. “Stranger still when the gang pretending to be the law probably has more honesty than the actual ones.”

You gave a tired smile. “That’s a depressing thought.”

“Welcome to America,” Dhani muttered.

You lay down beside her, the canvas roof above you gently shifting in the breeze, that badge still glinting quietly beside her — a symbol of the act you were all playing.

And outside, a deeper act unfolded: one with blood on its hands and names carved into files that were never meant to be read.

You closed your eyes.

Tomorrow, the game continued.

But tonight, you slept beside a deputy, beneath the weight of truth.

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"You woke up early just to look at the journal?"

A voice sounded next to you where you were leaning against a tree with a journal on your lap, pencil in hand. You lifted your head to look. There Karen was standing with a cigarette in her hand.

"Karen" you closed your book.

"hope I didn't interrupt you with your thoughts" she blew cigarette smoke into the air.

You shook your head at you. "no.. I just write down what's on my mind. Plus refer back to what I got"

Karen chuckled. "you and Arthur are the same.. Always stuck writing something in your journal"

You smiled faintly at that, hugging the journal closer to your chest as if it somehow protected the thoughts inside. “Difference is… Arthur doesn’t write about murder plots and clues " you said dryly.

Karen raised a brow and let out a short, smoky laugh. “True enough. He mostly writes about shootouts and regret.”

She dropped her cigarette butt into the dirt and nudged it out with the toe of her boot. “I used to keep a diary, y’know. Back when I thought life was gonna be poetry and dances.”

You looked at her, genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” She eased down next to you, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I even wrote about my first kiss. Thought it was somethin’ special. Turned out he just wanted to get under my skirt.”

You frowned slightly, but Karen waved it off with a sardonic smile.

“I stopped writing when life stopped pretending to be kind,” she said.

The two of you sat in quiet for a moment, the kind of quiet that settled into your bones like an early morning chill.

“I think it’s brave,” Karen said suddenly, her voice softer. “What you’re doing. Writing about things people don’t want to say out loud.”

You blinked, not quite knowing what to say.

Karen didn’t wait for a reply. She stood, dusted off her hands. “Just don’t go gettin’ yourself in too deep. Not everyone in this world wants the truth. Some folks’ll kill to keep it buried.”

You looked down at the journal again, then up at her. “I think it’s already too late for that.”

Karen met your gaze. Her expression shifted — no longer teasing, but serious, almost… protective.

“Well,” she said, turning to walk away, “just make sure when the hole’s deep enough, you’re the one holdin’ the shovel.”

You watched her go, the smoke from her earlier cigarette still lingering faint in the air.

And then you opened your journal again, flipped to a new page, and wrote quietly:

Not everyone wants the truth — but someone has to carry it. Even if it burns.

You were still scribbling the last line in your journal when a soft shuffle of boots on dry leaves made you glance up. Kieran was standing a few feet away, sheepish as ever, his hands fiddling with the brim of his hat. Slung over his shoulder was a fishing rod, and tucked under his arm, a small wooden box of bait.

“H-Hey,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Didn’t mean to sneak up or nothin’. Just… uh, saw you sittin’ here and thought I’d ask…”

You closed your journal slowly, pencil still between your fingers. “Ask what, Kieran?”

His cheeks flushed as he rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “Well, just wonderin’ how you were doin’. After, y’know, everythin’ that happened in Valentine. You looked real troubled lately.”

His sincerity caught you off guard — it wasn’t often someone asked how you were without a motive. You offered him a small, tired smile. “That’s kind of you, Kieran. I’m… thinking too much, that’s all.”

Kieran nodded as if he understood completely, though the anxious tremble in his jaw said he didn’t quite know how to respond. He hesitated, then shifted the rod on his shoulder.

“You… you wanna go fishin’? With me?” he asked, eyes darting from yours to the ground and back again. “I was headin’ out by the little cove near the willow trees. The water’s calm there and— well— I thought maybe you could use some quiet.”

Your gaze dropped to the bait box, then back to his face. “You’re going fishing?”

He nodded quickly. “Uh-huh. I caught a few bluegill there last time. Good ones, too.”

Something about his awkward hopefulness tugged at you, and after a moment’s pause, you pushed yourself up from the tree, brushing bark from your skirt.

“Alright,” you said. “Lead the way.”

Kieran looked visibly relieved, grinning softly as he turned, and you were just starting to walk when—

“Where’re you goin’?”

Arthur’s voice came from behind you both. You turned to see him stepping out from between two trees, arms folded across his chest, eyes narrowed and fixed squarely on Kieran.

Kieran nearly dropped his bait box. “Ah! I— I was just— we were just gonna fish, Mister Morgan. That’s all.”

Arthur’s eyes didn’t leave him, his jaw tense, unreadable. “Just the two of you?”

You stepped forward. “It’s alright, Arthur. He asked kindly, and I said yes.”

Arthur’s gaze shifted to you, still guarded. “You sure that’s what you want?”

Kieran shrank back slightly under the pressure, but you met Arthur’s look steadily. “He’s not trying anything. He just wanted someone to talk to.”

Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his posture softened—barely. “Alright. But don’t go too far. And be back before the sun dips. There's been enough damn trouble lately.”

Kieran gave a small, grateful nod. “Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir.”

Arthur grunted and walked off without another word, but not before casting one final glance over his shoulder.

You looked at Kieran and smirked. “Still scared of him?”

Kieran exhaled, rubbing his arm. “Only when he looks at me like he’s countin’ how many punches I can take before I drop.”

You laughed. “You’ll be fine. Come on. Let’s go catch something worth cooking.”

The soft morning sun filtered through the trees as you and Kieran rode side by side, your horses’ hooves clopping gently along the narrow trail leading toward the cove by the willow trees. The air was cool and fresh, filled with birdsong and the occasional rustle of leaves from a breeze gliding through the forest.

Kieran rode just slightly behind you at first, clearly still nervous despite your earlier reassurance. His fishing rod was tied loosely across the side of his saddle, and the small bait box rested in the saddlebag.

After a moment of quiet, he cleared his throat.

“You sure you ain’t too busy for this?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “I know you got that fancy journal and them clues and all… bein’ a detective and whatnot.”

You turned slightly in the saddle, offering him a sideways glance and a light smile. “Even detectives need to breathe, Kieran. Besides, you asked nicely.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a bit of hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, well… most folks don’t say yes to me when I ask. You’re different.”

You hummed at that, looking ahead. “Different how?”

Kieran thought about it, his brows pinched like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. “You… you ain’t mean to me. Not like some of the others were when I first came ‘round. I get why Arthur was rough on me, but you… You always treated me like I’m still a person.”

You looked at him again, slower this time. His voice was sincere, uncertain, but there was something real in it — like he didn’t even realize the weight of what he just said.

“I treat people how they treat me,” you said softly. “You’ve been kind. I noticed.”

Kieran gave a crooked smile, eyes flicking down toward his reins. “That’s real nice of you to say.”

A comfortable silence settled between you both as the trees began to thin, and the gentle gurgle of water met your ears ahead. You spotted the cove just up the rise — the willow trees dipping their long, green limbs into the glassy surface of the lake.

“You ever fish back in England?” Kieran asked, easing into a lighter tone now that the nerves were fading.

You chuckled. “No. My brothers were more interested in hunting people than trout.”

Kieran blinked. “Wait—what?”

“Figure of speech,” you laughed, nudging your horse forward. “British Government and consulting detective."

Kieran laughed awkwardly, but there was a note of curiosity in his voice when he said, “So… you ever solve anything real big? Like murders? Secret codes? Hidden treasure?”

You arched a brow. “Define ‘big.’”

He grinned wider this time. “Well, now I gotta hear one of your stories before we get a bite.”

You grinned back, reins loose in your hands. “Only if you catch something first.”

“Oh-ho, challenge accepted,” he said, riding up beside you now as the cove came into view.

As the horses slowed near the edge of the water, Kieran dismounted quickly and tied his reins to a low-hanging branch. You followed, stretching your legs after the ride. The lake shimmered beneath the sun, and the willow branches whispered like they were sharing secrets.

Kieran picked a nice spot on the bank and began setting up his rod, glancing at you with a crooked grin. “Alright, Miss Holmes. Let’s see if I can impress the smartest person in camp with a fish.”

You laughed, tucking your journal safely into your satchel before sitting beside him on the grass. “I’m listening.”

And with that, the day slowed down, the air lightened, and for the first time in a long time, the weight of mystery and grief gave way to something simpler — the stillness of the lake, the warmth of morning sun, and the beginning of a small, unexpected friendship.

The two of you sat along the riverbank, your horses grazing nearby, the morning sun spilling gold across the water. Kieran’s line bobbed gently, and he leaned back on his hands, boots dug into the soft dirt.

“You know,” he began, glancing at the river, “fishing’s always been kinda like… I don’t know, a safe place. I remember when I was little—before the O’Driscolls—my granddad taught me. He said, ‘There’s no problem a river can’t calm down.’” He smiled to himself. “Reckon he was right.”

You looked over at him, the quiet in his voice drawing out your own reflections.

“I used to think like that too,” you said softly, tracing the spine of your journal with your thumb. “I didn’t have rivers. I had books and cases and…siblings. Too many of them.”

Kieran chuckled. “You’ve never told me much about them.”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Well, Mycroft is the eldest. He sees everything but says very little unless it benefits him. Government work, heavy influence. Sherrinford was… careful. Kind, in a distant way. Always made time for me, though. He was the first one to ever tell me I was clever. Sherlock—he was fire. Brilliant and sharp, but so quick to burn. He always had to be right, always had to know. And Eurus…”

You paused for a moment. “Eurus was like a ghost. The kind of sibling who made the air feel colder when she walked into the room.” you looked down, remembering the day Eurus did a crazy job by killing Redbeard, Sherlock's dog. Stated that she's lonely, she needs friends. Though, before, she seemed like a normal big sister you had. Always with you and teach you how to look but over time, she seemed to be clouded with black clouds whenever she's in the room. Harming herself and all. That's also a reason why she is in asylum. For her mental health.

Kieran stayed quiet, listening. His eyes didn’t leave your face.

“They didn’t really know how to be… normal siblings,” you said with a small shrug. “We were always solving something. Always decoding, deducing, dissecting. But fishing?” You gestured to the rod in his hand. “We never did that. Not once.”

Kieran looked genuinely surprised. “Not even with your brother who said you were clever?”

You shook your head. “Sherrinford taught me chess. Not peace.”

There was a moment of quiet between you—shared, not awkward. Then Kieran nudged you with a gentle elbow.

“Well, maybe I can teach you peace. One fish at a time.”

You smiled warmly. “I’d like that.”

Just as you were about to say more, a sudden splash echoed nearby. Water churned loudly, followed by a deep, contented sigh and the unmistakable sound of a man humming a folksy tune to himself.

You both turned your heads—

And there he was.

A man—middle-aged, half-bald and definitely very naked—was waist-deep in the river, swimming in slow circles like he owned it.

Your eyes went wide and you immediately spun around, shielding your face with your hand. “Oh God.”

Kieran choked on his breath beside you, sputtering between laughter and horror. “"oh god! he's gonna mess up all the fish!"

You groaned into your hand. “And this is the best spot you wanted to fish?!”

Kieran burst into full-blown laughter. “I swear—I swear—he’s never here when I come early!”

“You owe me a fish for this trauma,” you said, voice muffled by your hands.

Kieran looked at you with amusement before he glanced at the naked man who was still swimming back. "hey sir! watch the lines! "

The man stopped swimming and adjusted his body. His naked body blurred in the water. "oh! Hey! sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I was just.. trying to get my blood flow going well with swimming! "

Kieran shook his head. "it's fine, sir. But please spare us some indecent views for my friend here" he gestured towards you who looked elsewhere with flustered.

"oh, my! sorry! again. I didn't mean to bother you both. Besides. I was just trying to stay healthy by swimming! you two should do it too" the man suggests.

Kieran snorted. "perhaps next time, sir. We're trying to fish here"

The man stopped before he laughed. "oh! talk about fishing, I just stumbled upon a very big fish in the lake next to this place. It was huge and it jumped like this" he submerged himself in the water and suddenly jumped up to the surface as if showing how the fish jumped out of the water. "like this! You two should try catching it"

Kieran hummed and nodded. "alright, thank you for telling us this. We're sure going to catch it"

You glanced at Kieran. "will we?"

Kieran stiffled his laugh. "if you want to stay in this spot and enjoy the view"

You grimaced. "yes! yes. We're going now, aren't we, Kieran?"

Kieran laughed and nodded. "yes, we are. thank you sir for this" he gestures toward the naked man and the lake in front of them.

The man nodded and swam away. Kieran and you reel in back the line. Kieran then nodded his head towards your two horses.

"come on. I think I know where it is," Kieran walked towards his horse.

You followed him and mounted up Luna, patting her neck affectionately. "could be another place that man can swim"

Keiran snorted in amusement. "yeah. And not to mention that today he's going to swim and showing off his butt cheeks."

You grumbled. "god, I need to delete this memory from my brain"

Kieran laughed as he led you to another place.

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The golden haze of evening settled over Clemens Point like a warm blanket, painting the lake’s surface in a soft amber glow. Smoke from the campfires curled lazily into the dusky sky, carrying with it the scent of stew, tobacco, and woodsmoke. Laughter floated now and then from Pearson’s table, where he loudly insisted on another round of dominoes while Uncle was already nodding off with a bottle in hand.

The cicadas had begun their nightly chorus in the trees, a rhythmic hum that mingled with the faint crackling of flames and distant splashes from the water’s edge where Jack skipped stones under Karen’s watchful eye. A gentle breeze tugged at the drying laundry strung between wagons and rustled the old Spanish moss hanging low from the trees.

Dhani sat near her tent, cleaning her sidearm in silence, lit by the flickering glow of a nearby lantern. Her face, usually sharp with sarcasm or mischief, was calm—focused. Across the camp, Arthur was scribbling in his journal, and Dutch could be heard in the distance speaking to Hosea in low tones, likely about their next move.

That was when Javier strolled over, bootsteps crunching softly over dirt and fallen pine needles. He stopped a few paces away, arms crossed, watching Dhani with a half-smile.

"You look like someone itchin’ for something more than chores," he said casually.

Dhani glanced up. "Depends who's asking."

Javier grinned. "Me. I got a little job planned. Nothing big. Easy money. Could use someone who doesn’t shoot like Bill."

She smirked, setting the cleaned pistol aside. "If it’s as easy as you say, maybe we bring Sean along too. If it goes south, he can be the loud one that gets shot first."

Javier chuckled. “That’s cold.”

“Efficient,” Dhani replied, already getting to her feet.

Her eyes then scanned through the camp looking for the certain red head who's pestering about something to Uncle. Something to do with alcohol. As usual.

"Oi, Sean" Dhani called the leprechaun.

Sean's ears perked at that and looked towards the older woman. "Ah. Lady Morgan. To what did you call me?" he wriggles his eyebrows at Dhani.

Dhani scoffed. "job. Simple one that even you loud mouth can do. Javier suggested we go without shooting just like the last one" she crossed her arms.

Sean smirked. "a job that doesn't use violence. Classic"

Javier scoffed as he slung his rifle. "only if they have no reason to shoot us first"

Dhani thought for a moment. "maybe" she paused. "Should I notify this to Arthur? Just in case"

Javier shrugged. "I don't mind." Javier walked towards his horse. "besides, it's not wrong if we need to be extra cautious. God knows what will happen"

Sean chuckled. "Nahh, nothing will happen under the watchful eyes of Deadeye Macguire.. Remember?" he said proudly.

Dhani slapped the back of his head. "that's because Javier and I did all the shooting while you shot the wind"

Sean put his hand on his chest as if hurting. "whew, that kinda hurt"

Javier chuckled. "come on, the sooner we do this, the easier it will be for us to get money"

Dhani hummed. "I go see Arthur then" Dhani nodded towards her brother who was leaning against a tree while scribbling in his journal with focus.

Arthur's forehead creases as he seems very focused on writing in his journal, not noticing the presence that is getting closer to him. Dhani stopped beside him and cleared her throat. Arthur didn't hear it.

Dhani frowned and knelt beside him. Close enough to see what he wrote in his journal, but she's the type who doesn't like to disturb other people's privacy, even her own brother. Never once did she peek what was written in her brother's journal. Dhani flicked Arthur's hat making the man stop writing. He startle, mind you. Suddenly interrupted.

Upon he saw who is it, he huffed an annoying sighed. "what?" he rolled his eyes, closed his journal.

Dhani smirked. "I hope I didn't disturb your thoughts"

Arthur grumbled as he put his journal into his satchel. "not that it didn't matter to you before"

Dhani fake gasp, hand on her chest. "Oh brother, I never." she chuckled. "anyways, me, Sean and Javier will do some work. Mind polishing my deputy badge?" Dhani jokes.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "with mud and horse shit? sure" he said sarcastically.

Dhani smirked at that. "now now brother. You wouldn't do that to your favorite sibling, would you?"

"you're the only sibling I have"

"and I remain your favorite" Dhani stood up. "now, I'm going. Won't be long. Javier said it doesn't require violence"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "why don't I believe that?" he murmured.

"because you're not invited"

Arthur stood up — shook his head. "no, because if Sean comes along, I don't think things will be pretty with the way he talks"

"are you saying that you're worried about us?"

"not at all" Arthur rolled his eyes. "go away then. Might as well use this peace while you're not here. God knows what the three of you will do without any extra supervision"

"Arthur, you and I.. we're the same age. We're both older than them and yet you don't trust me, who's the same age as you, to keep an eye on them both? shame on you brother. shame on you" Dhani shook her head in disappointment.

"Because you're younger than me, I don't trust you to watch over them both" Arthur countered.

Dhani made a disagreed noise. "Only a few minutes" she rolled her eyes. "I'm going now. You're grumpy because no one wants to take you out of camp" Dhani walked away.

Arthur grumbled as he rolled a leaf cigarette in his hand before he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit a match. He blew cigarette smoke as he took in the atmosphere of the camp.

The soft rustle of leaves overhead and the faint chittering of cicadas surrounded Arthur as he leaned back against the tree, smoke curling from his lips. The flap of tent canvas snapped lazily in the breeze while the voices and footsteps of camp life continued around him—Pearson barking about stew, Uncle snoring somewhere nearby, and Jack’s laughter echoing faintly from the lake’s edge.

“Don’t let her get to you,” came a voice from beside him.

Arthur glanced sideways and saw Tilly walking over, a slight smirk playing on her lips. She had her arms crossed and a calm, observant look in her eyes—like she’d been watching the whole exchange from a distance.

“She always gets to me,” Arthur muttered, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling slowly. “Been doin’ that since we were kids.”

Tilly chuckled lightly and lowered herself to sit near him, smoothing her skirt. “I think it’s sweet. The way you two bicker. Almost like you actually like each other.”

Arthur gave her a dry look. “I like her just fine when she ain’t tryin’ to drag herself into trouble every other day.”

“She’s trying to prove herself, Arthur. Like all of us. You know she don’t want to just sit around sewing or cooking stew.”

Arthur scoffed. “She ain’t never sewn a damn thing in her life. But yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I gotta like it.”

Tilly smiled gently, reaching down to pick at the grass. “You worry. I get it. She’s got fire in her. Same fire you have. You think it’ll burn too hot one day and she’ll get hurt. But then again, growing up with you guys, there was never a day when you didn't fight. " she sighed.

He didn’t say anything to that—just looked off into the trees, jaw clenched around his cigarette.

“She’s capable, Arthur,” Tilly added after a pause. “been doing this for 20 years you two in this gang and never once did she come back with a bullet in her. Or that’s what I think. But she knows what she’s doing and what she should be doing. She has the same responsibilities as you, Arthur. Only you didn’t realize it for a long time.”

Arthur just kept quiet. Didn't make any comments about it. But then again, what Tilly said was right. Dhani may be the same age as him but in his eyes, Dhani is his youngest sister. His other half. The closest family he has by blood. Someone who has the same blood as him. Maybe, being in a life that requires survival makes him worried about what's to come. We don't know.

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"You sure they're going to pass this route?" Dhani looked at Javier questioningly.

Javier pulled his horse reins making his horse stop in the middle of the road. "yeah, heard some nice dresses men in Rhodes using this route while I was scouting in an area near Rhodes"

Sean whistles. "a wagon full of rich folks coming, eh?"

Javier picked up and slung his rifle over his shoulder. "Maybe"

Dhani got off her horse. "it doesn't matter if they're rich folks or not, they're sure to have something valuable for us to steal" Dhani said as she gently smacked Bullseye's back. "hah!" she sent her horse to flee so was Javier and Sean.

She looked at Sean and Javier with a frown, firmly. "right, we'll hide behind the bushes here, wait for them to come and then we'll ambush them. Mind as well show that we have a weapon so that they're afraid before we loot them clean. Got it?"

Sean cocked his revolver. "clear"

Javier nodded. "yeah"

The three of them crouched low behind the thick brush, eyes fixed on the bend in the dusty road just up ahead. The birds had gone quiet. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Then, the sound came. Wagon wheels crunching over gravel. Slow. Measured.

Javier peeked through the branches. “There they are,” he muttered.

The wagon rolled into view—drawn by two jet-black horses, immaculate and strong. The carriage itself was dark, reinforced with iron corners. Two men sat up front—dressed not like simple rich folks, but in tailored black coats, stiff and spotless, their posture seems discipline. One wore a flat-brimmed hat, the other none at all, his short blond hair slicked back, square jaw tight and unreadable.

Their eyes scanned the road like hawks.

Something about them was off. Cold. Calculated.

But the three outlaws didn’t know that yet.

Dhani signaled. “Go!”

They burst from the brush.

"Whoa, there" Dhani aimed her weapon at the men.

“Hands in the air!” Sean shouted, revolver raised.

“Now!” Javier followed suit, his rifle steady.

Dhani stood dead center in the road, repeater aimed directly at the man with the slicked-back hair. “Step off the wagon, slowly.”

The driver pulled the reins. The horses reared slightly, but the men didn’t flinch.

The one with the hat smirked. “You sure about this, miss?” he glanced at his partner.

Dhani’s eyes narrowed. “I said, get off the wagon.”

Sean hopped up to the side, peeking in the back. “Well, now what do we have here—”

Suddenly, before anyone could blink, the slick-haired man reached inside his coat.

Bang!

The shot rang out like thunder.

Dhani gasped, her feet stumbled back.

Blood bloomed across her shirt just below the ribs. Her repeater slipped from her hands, clattering to the dirt. She crumpled to one knee, groaning, clutching the wound.

“Dhani!” Javier shouted, raising his rifle—but the other man was already drawing.

Sean fired first—missing.

Bullets erupted like a storm.

“Ambush!” Javier growled. “This ain’t no damn rich folks!”

“Take cover!” Sean barked, dragging Dhani by the arm behind the nearest log as bullets thudded into trees and dirt around them.

Dhani gasped as she looked at her bullet wound in the middle of her stomach. The shot was clean, she's losing blood, any moment could be her last. A simple fucking just job went wrong under her watch. Everything is so fast.

Javier shot at the wagon to which the men in the wagon returned fire. Sean put a pressure towards Dhani's wound. Blood soaking his hand. His face held horrifying watching blood pouring out of his hand. They are outnumbered.

Javier grunted as he reloaded his weapon and kept on shooting. Sean slapped Dhani's face making her come out of the blacking out phase.

"fucking keep your eyes open woman!" Sean shouted in terror. "Don't fucking die!"

Dhani’s eyes fluttered open weakly as Sean’s panicked voice pierced the ringing in her ears. Her vision swam—shapes doubling, the sky spinning overhead like a broken wheel. She felt the sting of his hand across her cheek, but the pain in her gut overwhelmed everything else. Hot. Sharp. Spreading like wildfire.

“I said don’t die on me, dammit!” Sean’s voice cracked, desperate. He was pressing down hard on her stomach, the blood still pouring through his fingers. “You're not gonna die in a ditch with me and Javier, alright? You’re too fuckin’ stubborn for that.”

Her lips parted, trying to speak, but all that came out was a strained breath, her throat burning.

Javier dropped beside them, sweat on his brow, rifle still clutched in his hand. “We’ve got to move! I don’t know how long I can keep ‘em pinned!”

“They’re aiming to finish us!” Sean shouted over the crack of another shot.

Javier’s eyes darted to Dhani—then to the trees. “Alright—alright. I’ll draw their fire, get their attention. Sean, carry her, get her to the horses. We can lose them in the woods.”

“What?!” Sean’s face twisted in horror. “You’ll get your head blown off!”

Javier grabbed him by the collar. “It’s either me or her! She won’t survive if we stay here!”

Dhani weakly grabbed Sean’s arm. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Do it…”

Sean stared at her—terrified, furious, helpless—but nodded. “I swear to God, if you die, I’ll kick your ghost’s ass.”

Javier nodded and stood—yelling and firing a wild, loud shot into the air before sprinting toward the opposite tree line.

The gunfire shifted—some of the men barking as they turned their focus.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Sean hissed through his teeth as he hooked one arm under Dhani’s back and the other under her knees, lifting her off the ground. She groaned in pain, her blood soaking into his shirt, hot and sticky.

Bullets cracked around them as he ran, ducking low, her weight heavy in his arms. “Hold on, we’re almost there—don’t you dare check out on me now!”

He broke through the trees just as Bullseye neighed wildly nearby, his reins hooked to a branch.

Sean kicked a fallen saddlebag out of the way and scrambled onto the horse with Dhani still in his arms, barely holding her steady in front of him.

The sound of more gunshots echoed behind them.

Then he spurred the horse.

“Hyaaaah!”

They tore through the woods, branches slapping them, the world a blur of trees, wind, and blood.

Dhani’s head rested against his shoulder, her breath shallow—but still there.

“Don’t die, Dhani,” Sean whispered, voice breaking. “You don’t get to die. Not like this.”

"We have to hurry!" Javier shouted ahead of Sean. "she's losing a lot of blood"

Sean kicked his Bullseye's side several times, increasing the speed.

Bullseye galloped harder beneath them, hooves pounding the forest floor like war drums. Sean clutched Dhani tighter to his chest, feeling her warmth fading far too quickly for his liking. His heart thundered in his ears—not from the ride, but from the sheer terror of losing her.

Javier glanced back as he cleared a thicket and saw the way Dhani's body sagged in Sean's arms. “Camp’s not far—just over the ridge!” he shouted.

“Push her, Bullseye, c’mon girl!” Sean growled, sweat dripping from his brow as he leaned forward, urging the horse on. “Just hang in there, Dhani, dammit, just hang in—”

A weak sound came from her—more breath than voice—but it was something. Her fingers twitched against his arm.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Sean gasped, eyes wide. “Stay with me, you pain-in-the-ass woman, you’re tougher than this. You’re gonna rub this in my face tomorrow, remember?”

They burst out of the trees at full speed, campfires already flickering in the dying orange light of evening just beyond the ridge. Camp was within sight now—smoke trailing up from pots, voices murmuring in the distance.

Arthur, sitting near the fire sharpening his knife, looked up just as the thunder of hooves reached his ears. His eyes widened when he saw Bullseye charging in—with Sean on his back, clutching something—

Someone.

“Arthur!” Javier shouted as he galloped in behind Sean. “She’s been shot!”

Arthur was already on his feet, his knife forgotten in the dirt. “What!?”

Sean barely brought Bullseye to a halt before Arthur grabbed Dhani from his arms, lowering her gently to the ground. The blood was everywhere—her shirt soaked, her lips pale, her breathing shallow.

Arthur's face twisted into a mix of horror and fury. “What the hell happened!?”

“Ambush,” Javier spat, dismounting. “We thought it was just a wagon—turns out it was military. It was a damn ambush.”

“Goddammit!” Arthur barked, pulling open his satchel and fishing for bandages. “Tilly! Karen! Get Susan! Get the doc kit!”

The women scrambled as Arthur ripped open Dhani’s shirt just enough to find the wound, already slick and hot with blood. “She’s lucky the bullet didn’t tear through her spine—but this is bad. This is real bad.”

Dhani moaned faintly, her eyelids fluttering.

Arthur pressed the cloth into her wound. “Hey, hey—look at me, Dhani.”

Her eyes opened a sliver, cloudy with pain, but they found his face.

“You’re alright. I got you. You ain’t goin’ anywhere, you hear?”

Sean crouched beside her, his blood-soaked hands trembling. “She held on the whole ride. She didn’t quit.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched. “She ain’t gonna quit now.”

Behind them, the whole camp stirred. Dutch emerged from his tent with Hosea and Charles not far behind. Everyone’s faces were pale as they caught sight of the blood, of Arthur covered in it, of Dhani’s limp form.

Dutch narrowed his eyes at Javier and Sean. “Start talkin’. What the hell happened out there?”

Javier met his gaze grimly. “We got baited. It wasn’t no regular robbery. The wagon is full of military. Dressed up I don't know but I know they are military men because civilians will not shoot so quickly and coldly. I thought it was just a simple wagon for delivering valuables things, I swear, Dutch. I don't expect them to suddenly start shooting. "

"Girls, let's get her to the tent quick!" Mrs Grimshaw commanded as Karen, Tilly, Abigail and Mary-Beth helped Dhani to move.

Arthur didn’t look up. He didn’t care who wanted who.

Right now, all that mattered was the woman on the ground beneath his hands, bleeding out in front of her brother.

And he wasn’t going to let her die. Not on his watch.

The rhythmic clop of hooves broke through the tense silence that had settled over camp like a heavy fog. Kieran rode beside you, a string of fish bouncing gently in his hand, his smile wide as he looked over.

“That spot really was the best, wasn’t it?” he chuckled. “And you said it was cursed after seein’ that naked fella.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Still not over that, thank you very much.”

He grinned. “You turned ‘round so fast, I thought you were gonna fall into the river.”

“Not all of us are accustomed to... surprise nudity, Kieran,” you deadpanned, but your tone stayed light. “But yeah. Not bad. Could’ve caught more if you didn’t spend half the time tellin’ me stories about your chicken.”

“She was a good chicken!” Kieran defended, eyes shining. “Name was Beatrice.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile faded the moment you rounded the last bend and the camp came into view.

Chaos.

Voices were raised. Horses were tied hastily to posts. Blood stained the dirt outside the medical tent. Arthur stood at the entrance, covered in it—his jaw tight, his face unreadable.

Your gut dropped.

“What the hell—” Kieran muttered, all humor vanishing from his voice.

You kicked your horse into a gallop without another word, fish forgotten, heart slamming as the worst possible thoughts flooded your mind. You dismounted fast, boots hitting the ground hard as you ran toward the tent.

Arthur saw you, his expression a rare mixture of rage and worry. “It’s Dhani,” he said quickly, low. “She got shot.”

You stopped cold.

“What?”

“She was on a job with Javier and Sean. They got ambushed. Military, we think. She’s alive, but—”

You pushed past him, ducking into the tent where the girls surrounded Dhani. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow, her blood soaking the sheets beneath her. Abigail was pressing a damp cloth to her forehead while Tilly knelt beside her, whispering soft encouragement. Mrs Grimshaw was cleaning the wound, and Mary-Beth had tears streaking down her cheeks as she clutched Dhani’s hand. Karen at her other side doing the same thing Abigail did only she rubbed her back as her way to comfort her.

Your knees buckled slightly, but you held yourself up, swallowing hard.

Dhani’s eyes fluttered. She saw you.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you saw her lips twitch in the faintest of smiles. “Hey,” she rasped, voice hoarse, barely audible.

“You idiot,” you breathed, kneeling beside her. “You’re supposed to come back from a job, not end up in surgery.”

“She didn’t listen,” Sean muttered from behind you, voice cracking. “None of us expected it.”

Kieran appeared in the tent entrance, uncertain. His eyes scanned the scene—then landed on Dhani—and he froze. “Oh, god…”

You reached out, brushing a bit of Dhani’s damp hair from her forehead. “You’re gonna be alright, okay? You’re gonna be fine. You’ve got too much hell left to raise.”

“We stopped the bleeding, but it’s deep. She’s gotta rest.” Mrs Grimshaw muttered.

Dutch’s voice outside barked orders, already assembling a plan, already furious about the ambush—but here, in the tent, the world was quiet.

You stayed by Dhani’s side as her breathing slowed, the bleeding began to clot, and her fingers weakly curled around yours.

She was still with you. And that was all that mattered—for now.

The sky had darkened into a deep indigo, stars peeking through the veil of dusk as the camp settled into a hushed lull. Crickets sang in the tall grass, the fire crackled low, and the worst of the panic had passed. Inside the tent, Dhani lay motionless but breathing, her color returning bit by bit. Susan had finished stitching her up, and now she rested with a cold cloth on her forehead, her chest rising slow but steady.

You stepped out of the tent quietly, the flap rustling behind you.

Your eyes scanned the camp and landed on the two figures near the main fire—Javier and Sean. They weren’t talking. Just sitting in tense silence, shoulders hunched, firelight painting their faces with guilt. Javier held a half-empty whiskey bottle, untouched in the last twenty minutes. Sean was staring into the flames like he could find forgiveness in them.

You walked over, boots crunching soft against the dirt.

They both looked up at your approach. Sean opened his mouth to speak but faltered. Javier's gaze dropped back to the ground.

“What the hell happened out there?” you asked, voice low but sharp. “The truth this time.”

Sean sighed, rubbing his face hard with both hands. “We thought it’d be simple. Javier heard the wagon was carryin’ valuables, and we didn’t see that coming.”

“It wasn’t just a delivery,” Javier added, quietly. “They were armed. Trained. When we jumped 'em, they didn’t hesitate. Like they were waitin’ for it.”

You stared at them, anger simmering just beneath your skin. “You didn’t think to scout first?”

“We did,” Sean snapped, but the fire in his voice fizzled almost instantly. “We were careful. But they were dressed like civilians, dammit. No uniforms, not until they start shooting. By then Dhani had already stepped forward, tryin’ to intimidate ‘em like we planned.”

“Then the bastard in the back shot her,” Javier muttered. “Didn’t even give her a chance to talk. It was aimed—right at her gut. Cold. Precise.”

Sean shook his head. “She dropped so fast, I—god, I thought she was dead. We barely dragged her outta there. I kept pressure on the wound, but there was so much blood.”

"And the men?" you asked, brow furrowed.

"We didn't stick around," Javier said. "We barely got out. Too many of them, too fast. They weren't just guards. They were military. But they dressed up like a civilians. We thought we were robbing a wagon full of rich people but we didn't think it was full of armed men"

Sean nodded grimly, gaze still locked on the flames. “If we’d known, we never would’ve gone through with it. We ain’t that damn reckless.”

“They looked like any other wealthy pricks movin’ through Rhodes,” Javier added, voice tight. “No flags. No uniforms. Nothing to make us think twice. But the way they moved… their discipline… it wasn’t no regular security.”

“They waited until Dhani got close,” Sean muttered. “Didn’t shout. Didn’t warn. Just raised a damn rifle and pulled the trigger. Bastard shot her like he was at target practice.”

Your jaw clenched. A sickness curled in your gut at the thought of how quickly things turned on them. On her.

“They baited you,” you said quietly. “Like they wanted someone to try and rob them.”

Javier’s brows furrowed. “You think we were set up?”

“I don’t know yet,” you replied, folding your arms. “But I don’t believe for a second it was just bad luck. Not when Dhani’s the one who got shot. And not when they didn’t hesitate to shoot first.”

Sean looked up at you, guilt carved into every line of his face. “We were just tryin’ to pull in some quick money. Thought we were doin’ her a favor. Gettin’ her outta camp, lettin’ her lead.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “You should’ve turned back the moment something felt off. But you didn’t.”

Silence stretched again, only the fire popping in between.

“She’s alive,” Javier finally said, not sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself. “We got her out. That’s gotta count for somethin’.”

You looked toward the tent where Dhani lay. “It does. But it better not happen again.”

Both men nodded, solemn and silent.

You sat with them for a few more minutes, not speaking, just letting the weight of the night settle over you all. Because come morning, you knew this wasn’t over. Not even close.

You sighed and cracked your shoulders to relieve the tension that was bubbling up in your shoulders. But when you tried to crack your neck, you noticed Arthur sitting on the box with his hands on his knees, eyes looking ahead with a frowning face as if in thought. His jaw clenched.

You didn't say anything. But knowing him who only has Dhani as his only blood family, you understand his storm that is brewing inside him. Losing someone who is closed to you can make someone do crazy things. But luckily Dhani survives.

You excused yourself to Sean and Javier. Though, they didn't acknowledge it as they were staring at the campfire.

You rose to your feet slowly, dusting your hands against your pants before crossing the camp. The firelight flickered off Arthur’s face, casting long shadows beneath his eyes. His hat was pulled low, but not enough to hide the storm brewing behind his gaze. His jaw worked tight, like he was grinding his teeth down to dust.

You stopped a few steps away. “You look like you’re ready to kill someone.”

Arthur didn’t look up. “I might be.”

You exhaled, dragging your fingers through your hair. “I figured you’d be brooding.”

“I ain’t brooding,” he muttered. “I’m thinking. There’s a difference.”

You studied his face. He was still in the bloodstained shirt from when he helped carry Dhani in. The stain had dried and darkened, but it stood out like a wound of its own.

“She’s stable,” you offered, voice soft. “For now.”

Arthur’s eyes flicked up at that. “For now.”

“She’s strong, Arthur. You know that.”

“That ain’t the point,” he said, voice tight. “She shouldn’t’ve been out there in the first place.”

“She wanted to lead. Take charge. Thought it’d be a clean job.”

“And what? She’s gotta damn near die for it?”

You sighed and sat beside him on the edge of the box. The wood creaked under the added weight.

“Sean and Javier didn’t know,” you said. “They weren’t being reckless on purpose. They were tricked.”

Arthur’s hands curled into fists on his knees. “You ever seen her bleed like that before?”

You swallowed thickly. “No.”

“She was so still,” he muttered, barely audible now. “She’s never that still.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You just sat beside him, listening to the crickets chirring in the grass, the low murmur of wind through the trees. Then Arthur exhaled, long and heavy.

“She’s all I got,” he said, finally. “All I got left that matters.”

Your chest tightened. “Then we make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Arthur looked at you then, eyes sharp. “I ain’t sittin’ back next time. I’m done waiting around while this damn world tries to take her.”

You nodded. “Then we figure out who those bastards were. And why they shoot her.”

Arthur clenched his jaw again and stood. “I’m gonna stay near her tent.”

You didn’t stop him. Just watched as he walked off into the darkness, a bloodstained guardian in the night. The flames crackled behind you, but your thoughts were already elsewhere—on Dhani, on those fake civilians, and on the war that might be coming to camp without a single shot fired yet.

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