The sun is high in the sky as Arthur rides into Valentine and hitches Sparrow outside the general store. "That's my good girl," he says to the horse with a pat on her neck, then dismounts. He pushes the door open and walks into the store, the distressed floorboards creaking under his boots with each step.

"Hello, sir. Haven't seen you in a while," the clerk behind the counter greets his new customer.

Arthur nods to the man then goes about his business of picking up the oat cakes for the horses as well as some fresh produce for dinner. As he's checking out his items at the counter, a bag of candy catches his eye. He grabs it, as well as a chocolate bar.

"These, too," he says to the clerk and places the items before him.

"Alright, then."

The clerk tallies the products and Arthur pulls out the money Dutch had given him to pay for it.

"Thank you, sir," Arthur calls out as he leaves the building, the bell over the door jingling as he steps over the threshold.

Before leaving Valentine, Arthur stops off at the butcher's stand to buy some meat. Normally, he'd just hunt the animals himself, but he doesn't want to make Emmeline wait too long to eat. Especially given the scant amount of food she had left. She probably hasn't been eating very properly for at least a few days.

Arthur traverses the winding trail to the house and dismounts Sparrow just outside the stable. He hadn't introduced her to Emmeline's horse, Miss Susie, earlier, so he takes the time to do it now. Since both horses are female, he doesn't have to worry about any funny business, thankfully.

"You girls gonna get along?" he asks as he hitches Sparrow beside Miss Susie.

The horses sniff at each other for a moment, then duck their heads to pick at the hay beneath them. Arthur takes that to mean that they're okay with being together and takes the food out of his saddlebag to carry inside.

When he gets to the front door, he pauses. Should he just go in? Or should he knock? He decides on the latter and lightly pounds on the door. "It's Arthur," he calls out for good measure.

Emmeline opens the door with a friendly smile on her face. "Come in," she responds and steps aside. "You don't have to knock, Mr. Morgan. This is your house, too, for as long as you're here."

He nods and steps inside to place the food on the counter. "Bought some beef for us. Some corn, too. Figure that'd make a good meal."

She starts to sort through the stuff. "I went out and picked some herbs while you were gone to add some flavor." She comes across the chocolate bar and raises it up to her face. "Chocolate...?" she reads from the label.

He raises his eyebrows. "You ain't never had chocolate before?"

She shakes her head. "Don't reckon I have. Mama never brought anything like this back from the store."

Arthur takes the bar from her hands and rips the paper open then breaks off a bite. "We should wait 'til after supper, but..." He shrugs a shoulder then hands the square of chocolate to her.

She takes it in her hand. "What's it taste like?" she asks then sniffs it a little.

"Sweet," he explains. "Just try it."

She delicately puts the candy in her mouth and bites into it. "Oh!" She looks up to Arthur with a huge smile on her face. "This is good!"

He chuckles at her reaction and breaks off a bite for himself. He puts it in his mouth and swirls it around, allowing it to melt slowly.

"Can I have some more?" she asks sweetly.

"After supper."

"Okay."

They cook up the food and sit down at the table to eat it. Emmeline had never had a house guest before, but she has read in books that polite conversation is appropriate at the dinner table.

"How old are you, Mr. Morgan?" she asks bluntly.

He finishes his bite and swallows before answering. "Guess I'm thirty five, there abouts." He takes another bite.

"I'm twenty one," she responds, figuring the polite thing to do would be to provide the same information she asked. "Are you leaving behind your own home to visit with me?"

"Not really," he starts with a mouthful. He swallows before continuing. "Not a house, anyway. I live in a camp with a bunch of people."

"A camp? That sounds adventurous!"

He chuckles. "I s'pose."

"Are those people your family? Do you have a wife and children?"

"No wife or children of mine. But they are my family. We live as a family. Take care of each other and make sure we're all safe." He takes a bite.

"That sounds nice." She gives him a smile. "How did you meet Uncle Tacitus?"

He swallows awkwardly and lets out a cough. "Uncle Tacitus?"

She nods.

Hosea taught him the best lies always have a grain of truth, so that's what he goes with. "My parents both died when I was pretty young. I was living on the streets, pretty much bound for the gallows for stealing. But two men named Dutch and Hosea took me in and raised me from there. They, uh... work for your uncle Tacitus, so... That's how I met him."

"So what do you do for Uncle Tacitus?"

"Uh... Well." He clears his throat and wipes his mouth with his napkin. "I do a little of everything, I s'pose. That camp I live in... We all work for your uncle Tacitus doing this and that, here and there. Each one of us provides in our own way."

She accepts the lie. "Oh my. It seems like like Uncle Tacitus and your camp are very noble people."

He chuckles a little. "I don't know about all that."

"Anyone that would take in a poor orphaned boy is surely a noble man." She smiles at him again. "And so is any man that would look after a poor woman such as myself."

Arthur feels a bush creep up his cheeks at the praise. "Aw, I ain't a noble man, Miss Emmeline. You don't know me very well, yet."

"That may be so, but I reckon when I get to know you, that opinion won't change."

Emmeline isn't exactly savvy about the world, so she takes Arthur at his word. To her, he's just a generous man looking after her during her time of grief. She knows that she is ill prepared to live on her own now that her mother is gone, so Arthur's presence is a godsend. The very last thing she would think is that "Uncle Tacitus" is just a code name and that Arthur and his "family" are a bunch of outlaws responsible for thefts and murders alike.

After dinner, they head off to their bedrooms to turn in for the night. Emmeline changes into her long nightshirt while Arthur opts to sleep naked. He gets under the blanket, but before he blows out his lantern, he pulls out his journal to recount his day.

Dutch tasked me with watching over his illegitimate daughter. Yes, Dutch has a daughter that apparently no one knows about but him. Especially now that the poor girl's mother has passed. The girl herself don't even know who her real father is.

She is a strange one, that girl. Miss Emmeline. Her mama kept her too close to her apron strings and now she's more child than adult. I don't mean she's an imbecile, or nothing. She seems smart enough, but she's innocent. Naive. Quick to believe what she hears.

She thinks I'm a noble man, if that tells you something.

I wasn't real excited to come here, thinking that the girl would be hysterical in her grief. That ain't the case though. When I came upon her, she said she was putting flowers on her mama's grave. I could see she was crying, but she seemed fine after that. If this job ends up being me running errands for the girl into town, might not be so bad. More like a vacation from what I'd normally be doing. The area seems pretty enough, anyway.

She don't much look like Dutch. Though I guess it don't make sense that girl's mother would lie about Dutch being the father since she didn't want him anywhere near the girl. Guess they made a pact of sorts that he'd stay away. Keep the girl away from the outlaw life. I don't rightly know how sending me out here to watch over her keeps her away from all that, but I guess I'm doing more good than harm. For now, anyways.

I suppose Miss Emmeline got Dutch's black hair, at least, since I guess the mother had red hair. Her eyes are blue like a clear sky in the summer, too, which she surely didn't get from Dutch. I'm certain the girl favors her mother in the face.

Her mother must've been a very beautiful woman.

Arthur is interrupted by a soft whimpering coming from the room next door. After a few moments, it turns into sobs.

"Shit," Arthur murmurs to himself and closes his journal. He had never been very good with emotional women. He always seemed to say the wrong thing, making a bad situation worse.

As the sobbing continues, Arthur decides that he should probably at least try to comfort the girl. He throws on his pants and a shirt and grabs his lantern to move out of his room to the next door over.

He knocks lightly on the door and softly calls out, "Miss Emmeline?" He pushes the door open slightly.

Emmeline sits up in her bed with a sniffle and wipes her cheeks. "Yes, Mr. Morgan?" Her voice is raspy and choked.

"You alright in here?" He peeks his head in the room and holds the lantern up to get a look at her.

"Would you sit with me for a bit?" She looks up at him with the sweetest of faces and he can't bare to say no.

"Uh. Okay, Miss Emmeline. If you want." He walks further into the room and sets the lantern on her nightstand.

Emmeline scoots over to allow Arthur the room to sit to her right. "Thank you, Mr. Morgan."

"What seems to be the problem?"

She swallows hard, trying to clear the lump from her throat. "I guess I'm just missing Mama." She sniffles and tries to hold back her tears.

"I know you was close with her."

She nods then leans into the man next to her and wraps her arms around his torso. "Why did the lord have to take her?" she asks as her tears start to flow. "I need her here."

Arthur is frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had thought that Emmeline was taking her grief in stride, but it seems she's still deeply hurt by her loss. He tentatively puts his arm around the girl and pats her shoulder.

"It'll be alright, miss," he tries. "There, there."

She squeezes him further. "I don't want to be without her. What will I do?"

"I know," he coos in his deep voice as he relaxes some in her arms. "I know she did a lot for you."

"She did everything. I don't know what I'm going to do."

He starts to rub her back. "I can teach ya some things. Teach you how to take care of yourself so you won't be afraid to go into town."

Emmeline straightens up to look at him. "You would do that?" She wipes the tears from her cheeks.

"That's what I'm here for, right? I gotta get you on your feet." He lets out a short "oof" as Emmeline hugs him tight again.

"Thank you Mr. Morgan," she says into his chest.

"You're welcome, Miss Emmeline."

She pulls back to smile at him.

"You gonna be okay?"

She nods. "I think so."

"Okay." Arthur starts to stand from the bed. "Goodnight, Miss Emmeline."

"Goodnight, Mr. Morgan."

The next day, Emmeline decides to wash some clothes since it is a rather warm day. She finds Arthur out back chopping firewood, his suspenders pulled down and his shirt sleeves pushed up his forearms.

"Hello, Mr. Morgan," she greets with a smile. She doesn't have any experience with men, but she must admit that this man before her is certainly a prime example of manhood, all broad shoulders and a gruff voice. Not that she has much to compare him to really.

He brings the axe down on the log, splitting it in two, then straightens up to face her. "Hello, Miss Emmeline."

"I was going to wash some clothes in the creek," she points to the flowing water a short ways away, "and wondered if you needed anything washed."

He wipes at his brow. "You don't have to do that." He bends back down to put a log on the stump.

"I want to. Besides, it'll get me outta this heat and into the cool water." She gives him a smile.

"If you're offerin', I think most of the clothes I brought with me could stand a wash. But you ain't gotta do them all. Just pick out what you wanna wash."

"Okay." She turns to leave, but pauses and turns back. "Thank you for making me feel better last night."

He gets a little bashful and looks away. "Aw, I didn't do much."

"Well, it helped all the same."

She heads back to the house to gather all the dirty clothes in a basket with the washboard and the soap. The spot she usually washes the clothes has a little bank, but it drops off steeply to about waist deep. She also chooses this area to bathe herself when the weather is warm enough.

From where Arthur is still cutting wood, he can see Emmeline perfectly as she carries everything to the creek. She starts to remove her blouse then her skirt, leaving her in just her underclothes consisting of a light fabric combination*, the legs of which are lightly frilled and cut just below the knee. The top of it is sleeveless with a scoop neck adorned with ribbon.

Arthur quickly averts his gaze, not wanting to spy on her in her state of undress.

Emmeline hadn't even thought about Arthur. She was simply doing what she always did in the summer by stripping down to cool off as she did the wash.

She gets to work scrubbing the clothes. She had grabbed all of Arthur's clothing despite his protestations and since they are the most stained, she does them first. The cool water of the stream feels refreshing on her skin, so the work isn't too bad. Though leaning over the washboard at the shore always does tire her back out.

After washing a few garments, she stands up to stretch her back. She looks over and sees Arthur looking back at her, so she gives him a friendly wave.

"Shit," he mutters and awkwardly waves back, then looks away. He hadn't meant to look at her again, but his eyes wandered all on their own.

Emmeline is completely unaware of the fact that the wet fabric clinging to her skin is practically see through. She's also unaware of how that may be affecting the man standing several yards away.

Arthur gathers the wood he split and carries it into the house to pile next to the fireplace. He pours himself a glass of water and guzzles it all in one drink to try to cool himself down a little. When he sets the glass back down on the counter, he sees from the kitchen window Emmeline, still in her wet underclothes, starting to hang the clothing on the line outside.

"Come on, old man," he chides himself and turns away from the window. "She don't want you looking at her."

Outside, Emmeline finishes hanging the clothing and starts to wander the yard to dry off a little. She walks around to the horses and visits with them for a few minutes, then puts her shirt and skirt back on once she's dry.

Wanting to keep himself busy, Arthur decides to start dinner, since it's about time, anyway. When Emmeline comes back inside, she finds him at the fireplace cooking meat.

"Mr. Morgan," she greets cheerfully as she comes in.

"Miss Emmeline." He doesn't look up at her.

"If you're hot, Mr. Morgan, the creek is quite refreshing," she suggests.

"I'm fine."

"Or if you want to wash up. That spot I was at is deep enough to dunk your head if you bend down."

"I'll keep that in mind." He finishes the food and the pair sit down for supper.

Emmeline notices that Arthur is a little more quiet than usual, so she doesn't press for conversation as they eat. It feels a little awkward to her, but she's not sure how to remedy it.

After dinner, they both stay in the main room, seated at the table, Emmeline with a book and Arthur with his journal. He had set out to write an entry, but finds himself sketching what he saw today.

He drags the pencil down the page depicting the long line of her body as she stretched by the water, her arms held above her head and back arched. The wet fabric clung to her skin, the shining sun making it sheer enough to see the curve of her bosom. He traces his pencil over the swell of her breasts, perhaps spending more time than necessary to get it right.

Emmeline watches Arthur as he seems completely in concentration. His bottom lip is gently placed between his teeth and his brow furrows as he brings his pencil to the paper. The position of the book in his hands obscures Emmeline's view, so she doesn't know exactly what he's doing. The curiosity starts to get the better of her the longer she watches him.

"Are you a novelist?" she asks, but he doesn't hear her, his attention fully on his work. She clears her throat and tries again. "Mr. Morgan?"

He snaps his head up. "What?"

She points to his journal. "Are you a novelist? You sure are concentrating on what you're writing."

He closes the book and sets it in his lap. "I ain't no writer, miss. It's my journal." He shakes his head. "A silly thing to keep, I s'pose."

"It's not silly. My father kept a journal. He said it helped him make sense of what was going on around him. He gave me a journal when I was kid, though I never used it as such. I like to write stories, though."

"Are you a novelist, Miss Emmeline?" he says back with a smile on his face.

She laughs. "No, no, Mr. Morgan. I'm not good enough for that. I just scribble down little things that come to my head."

"Read me one and I'll be the judge of how good it is."

Her cheeks start to turn read at the thought and she turns bashful. "I don't know. I'd be afraid you'd think it was awful. I ain't never read any of my stories for nobody. 'Cept my mama." She looks up to him and he's still looking at her with a gentle face. "Okay," she decides hesitantly and goes into her room to retrieve her notebook, which is leather bound and similar to Arthur's.

She sits back down across from him and lets out a heavy breath. "I'll try to pick one you might like." She flips through the pages. "Mama used to bring home newspapers when she would go into town and I read an article about a train robbery once." She clears her throat and starts to read her story about a young woman caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, a train that is slated to be robbed by a gang of outlaws. A firefight ensues and the woman is shot. One of the outlaws, a handsome young man, takes pity and and takes the girl from the train to nurse her back to health. The two of them fall in love and she convinces the outlaw to leave his gang and turn his attentions away from holding up innocent people to taking down the corrupt elite.

She finishes and looks up to Arthur. "I, uh, have a few more parts of their exploits, but I'm sure you don't want to hear them. I told you I wasn't no good."

"I liked it," Arthur is quick to say. "Can't say I'm a big reader, but I liked the story. And I like how you read it." As she read, she would change her voice to whoever was talking, gruff for the outlaw, sweet for the young woman. Whenever there was action, she would read it more dramatically, as well. Arthur found it all entertaining. Not to mention he much enjoyed watching watching her face as she acted out the various parts.

"You did?" she asks.

"I'd very much like to hear the other parts." He stands from the table. "But maybe another day. It's pretty late."

She stands up as well. "Yes, of course, Mr. Morgan," she replies excitedly.

The pair part ways to go to their rooms, both of them with a smile on their face.

*a chemise and drawers combined into one garment, sort of like a jumpsuit or onesie