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“Has anyone followed you through here?” Mary asks as she sees the man hitching his horse on a pole and quickly rushes to the door, half scared and worried and half excited.
“Not that I know of,” Arthur scoffs as he dismounts and quickly searches for something in his saddle bag, turning his head towards Mary and giving her the same and only shy smile he knows.
He rummages through the bag and finds a few dollars and some quarters, alongside a letter from Mary to him. Unbeknown to the woman that this draft of a letter somehow reached Arthur.
A letter under a lady's name for a man whose name is.. surely a choice, one of the many codenames Arthur Morgan uses to claim mails. A smudged signature and a name written so weirdly, almost so the letter gets lost – maybe that was the hope.
They've written countless letters to one another and they are sure that not all of them have reached the other end.
“I see.. you've sent me a letter, not long ago.” Arthur finally finds the paper and he opens it as he's walking towards the door.
“I was hoping it'd find you well.”
He looks up from the paper and gives Mary his most sincere expression, “I'll always come when you call.”
Mary shyly creaks the door further open and invites him in.
“A tea?”
“Sure.”
“Tell me about what you've been up to, will ya?” Mary can't help but wonder.
They are two very different people, a simple woman, jumping from town to town usually alone, and then there is him, one of the most wanted men to ever exist.
Such a high bounty on his head, dead or alive, Arthur will never negate the fact that he's told Mary, jokingly or not, that one day she can just turn him in at any sheriff for some pretty pennies.
“Gang stuff.” He sits down at the table and looks at Mary and her careful movements around the room, admiring her like he always does. “Stealing.. killing.. strange requests..” he can only ever see this bad side of his.
Mary almost rushes to interrupt him, “Protecting the women and the children, taking care of animals,” she sighs, “I know you.” She places the cup of tea in front of him as she sits down on a chair, facing him directly, “you're a good man.”
“What does a little bit of goodness make me be? An angel? Wash my sins?”
“Well..” she reaches out and puts her soft hand over his, hands that have killed, stole, taken bloodmoney, but he always did it with a good cause, “not at all, but I've fallen for you ages ago, when you were not all so bad.”
Her tender voice trails off in a haunting yet beautiful way in Arthur's head. He knows that Mary is fully aware of his doings, and she has held him accountable for actions, but she is one of the only who still decide not to turn a blind eye to his softer side.
“You like thinking that way.” He can't help but smile either way. It could be the sweetest lie and the harshest truth, he'd accept it from Mary.
“You're a fool.” She quietly nods as she now drinks her tea, “you've both sinned and done good things for fellas. I've seen it, I've heard it.”
“I'm a lucky man to have you, and to be able to roam a few roads without covering my mouth, nose and eyes, and not walk with a hand on my gun holster."
“I wish for you to see the beauty of the world but not through my eyes and stories.” Arthur adds, visibly sad.
“Saint Denis, for example,” he looks out the window as if the stars would line up and give him a way out of his situation and sins, “one hell of a guarded place, but a fine city for a fine lady.” He turns his head back to Mary.
It all ever comes back down to Mary.
“Oh, Arthur,” she almost hugs herself as she sinks further in the chair, “we could always go.. west, into Armadillo,.. Tumbleweed..” She is desperate for solutions to feed her hungry soul, “if only we could row a boat down Flat Iron Lake, continue down Saint Luis River..”
“Some quiet places.”
“Exactly!” Her eyes glimmer with hope and dreams, and Arthur is afraid to tell her once again that they can not do that --she knows that very well but it's still hard to hear. That they can not live together.
That they can't get to know the world together and lean on one another when time gets hard. That they also can't start a family, or own a place together, grow crops and farm animals, nothing would be possible with Arthur being her man.
“I'm a wanted man, Mary.” Arhur has been lost a lot of times before, but now, it was different. And he was afraid for once. “Even if the deserts would be safer for us, the heist of Blackwater is like a bullet to be fired in the back of my neck.”
“But I thought you hadn't participated? Or so the newspapers have told me.”
“I haven't, but my face is up there.”
“I see.” Mary shuffled through her newspapers that are scattered on the table, “sometimes I read them only in hopes to hear of you.”
Arthur quickly looks Mary directly in her eyes, almost not believing her.
She smiles, “be it, someone has sighted you, or you've committed yet another crime.. I dream to read of you. No matter the cause.”
Arthur ponders on a specific thought for a hot moment and it's hard for him to let the words go out of his mouth, “the only way to venture into the world is by never seeing me again.”
And in whatever town Mary is, she buys the newspaper. Today's hot article is Sean MacGuire who has escaped from Blackwater's prison. A Van der Linde member. All due to the Blackwater ferry failed job. Mary wonders if Arthur helped break him out, and she almost hopes he did.
Another article reads of yet another disease in Armadillo, a scarlet fever, that makes the small number of people there be in quarantine. The town wears the name “curse” in almost every article there is.
The next day, and the next newspaper, therefore the new mention of the Van der Linde gang stirring up trouble in Valentine. An attempted bank robbery and the famous bar fights where Charles Smith and Arthur Morgan were spotted, external sources saying Javier Escuella might've been at the scene too.
Today's, New Hanover Gazette No.31 reads of no Van der Linde sight, a submarine in the making, Armadillo's disease spread all the way to Tumbleweed that it became yet another idle town, and Sheriff Gray's death after The Braithwaite Manor has burnt down to the ground. Which is strange, such a big and glamorous building to burn and disappear into ashes. Definitely not a one man job.
The next day, Mary bought the newspaper like usual, and the first article wore a title written in bold, [GANG HIDEOUT DISCOVERED], and it read:
[AT CLEMENS POINT.
BELIEVED TO BE VAN DER LINDE GANG.
WAS DESERTED ONLY DAYS BEFORE.]
And her heart sat still for a second, her eyes eagerly to see if any names had been dropped, or crucial details.
[Law agents and others on the trail of the Van der Linde gang say they have discovered the remains of a camp that no doubt served as the base of operation.]
Pretty tame, they've all fled again together it seems. Catching a glimpse of the gang's name gives her hope – she doesn't agree with all and everything they do, even though she tries to look over all the bad things just to try and comfort Arthur.
And Mary is no liar, buys the newspaper daily since it is a source of entertainment (more or less positive) and hopes to hear of them. And the next day, only has more drops about the gang.
As New Hanover's Gazette reads, she looks closely and sees the gang being mentioned alongside lawmen and pinkertons.
And right beneath, the announcement of two deaths, two members of the gang, and one member soon to be imprisoned.
One of them was the fugitive from Blackwater and the other one was the co-leader of the gang, who was wanted in at least six states. People believe the rest have fled the country.
This is mostly the highlight of her days, and she continues to dream the silliest and softest of dreams while missing Arthur. She keeps on buying newspapers and finds out things one by one, like the time a man and a woman broke a prisoner out of a prison – an oddly familiar group (respectively Arthur, Sadie, John).
It's been quite a long time since the two have met again, he is busy with gang life, basically his family, while Mary jumps from town to town aimlessly. A train here, a train there.
Nothing new in her life really, surviving by the little she had everyday.
Mary is now in Saint Denis and she has sent Arthur a letter, she's told him she has one more request of him. And she waits for him, part of her not even knowing if he is still alive.
All worries and hopes until she hears a forever sweet voice calling out her name, the voice is so close, that when she looks down from the balcony she can't contain her happiness and almost yells “I'll come down, give me a minute!”
And she doesn't spend one more heartbeat there cause she's already disappeared from behind the fence, causing her not to see Arthur's smile. He quickly tried to tidy himself up a little bit.
She's now downstairs, and has pulled Arthur into a hug which he reprocicates. And it's like none of them ever went away, like they never disappeared from one another's grasp or hold.
“I've missed you..”
He scoffs, “I'll always miss you.”
“I was scared,” she tries to gather her words but almost aimlessly, she merely panics in the heat of the moment, “that you would not come back to me.”
At which Arthur makes a face, “I told you. If you call, I'll come.”
“And I am so glad you did.”
Little talks have flown around them, until Mary got quite the idea.
“Shall we go down to the theatre? I heard their shows are pretty good!”
“Why, of course.” He puts out his hand for her and she links it just as fast. It reminds the both of them of the times from when they were young, and how lovely it all was.
They walk the busy streets of Saint Denis while admiring the pretty lights. Arthur feels like a new man – the love of his life holding his hand and taking a stroll, heading for something like a little date.
And he thinks of all the theatres he could take Mary to, like the one in the little tent in Valentine, the one in Blackwater..
As they reach the theatre, Arthur holds the door open for Mary and then goes ahead and buys tickets for the both of them. He then guides Mary along the hall to the designed room, where she picks the seats she likes best.
And they idle and chit chat until the introducer of the show comes from behind the red curtains and announces the people that have to come on stage, one by one.
“Please welcome the man that catches bullets in-between his teeth!” Everyone starts clapping and talking about these tricks this man must know. Almost everyone wields a gun but who catches the bullets as well?
“Benjamin Lazarus - not a circus man, but knows one too many tricks.”
Mary turns to Arthur, “just how real can that be?” She giggles, then leans into his ear and whispers “maybe a gunslinger as talented as you would know?”
Arthur was caught off guard with such a remark, “I wonder just how true these bullets must be.”
The man is on stage with his companion, the one that holds the gun, and has to aim it. Benjamin opens his mouth, sits right up, and waits as he is placing total trust in his comedian partner.
“Come on, don't miss.” He adds, his tone shaking a little bit, thing which makes the spectators afraid.
The next few seconds are rough, a man sitting with his mouth open, in front of a man that's aiming a gun. Nobody speaks, nobody breathes.
And when the bullet is finally shot, Benjamin takes a few steps back and limps around, while letting out a few muffled words. He regains composition pretty quickly, and finally gets ahold of himself, and takes the bullet out, from in between his teeth.
Everyone applaudates, some even stand up in shock.
“Just how real are those bullets?!” Shouts a man.
“Why don't you come here and shoot me a bullet, from your own gun?”
Mary faces Arthur again and is almost afraid to look back at the stage. It all could turn into a bloodbath in just a mere second.
“I doubt anyone would do that.” He reassures her.
Barely five seconds passed, there it was. A man walks up to the stage, drawing his gun out of his holster.
People spiral again, if that all was a show, this all would be a disaster.
“Whenever you're ready.” Benjamin is weirdly confident about this.
The man doesn't hesitate, he shoots the bullet, the performer limps again for a little bit, before he takes out the bullet from between his teeth.
Everyone sits up and claps, Arthur and Mary included. The room erupted into happiness as they bowed and left the stage.
The presenter is back, gives a little run-down of what just happened since, not anybody can do what that man does. “How does one even learn that?” he remarks, then gets to the next performer.
A small band appears from behind the curtains, a woman in a big and beautiful red puffy dress, with three men behind her. She sits in front of a microphone stand, a man at a piano, one at a cello, and a drummer.
She talks about a song she's created about talking with someone all the way from Saint Denis to Blackwater – but not by letters and meetings, but with voice, through some kind of device.
She names it “Modern Improvement.” something that no person has heard of before, not even people of Saint Denis, knowing this town is the most populated and modern.
“Dear people, may you have heard of the telephone? It carries a facsimile of your voice, from one town to another, before you even know it!” Everyone cheers and interacts, eagerly waiting for the song. “No matter where you are, somebody might be looking for you..”
She starts singing, “Hello,” she then gestures for the crowd and they do as they're told, and mutually answer “hello.”
She continues “Hello, my baby. Hello, my honey..” and she sings beautiful love lines with a harmonious melody that compliments her voice.
“What a fun song,” Mary smiles as she whispers, hoping Arthur hears it even though the song just got faster and louder.
“You think these.. telephone things are real?”
“If they are, we should indulge and talk.” Mary sounds quite happy with the idea.
“Until they are registered by the government and track me down,” he laughs.
She scoffs softly and waves her hand in the air.
The song is over and their presenter is back again, announcing the last performer, a fire breather.
“What kind of sorcery must that be?” Arthur mumbles.
“Oh I've heard of these! They do it with alcohol.”
“That sounds like a mess!”
On the stage appears a woman with a skirt that's floor length with two sticks in her hands, approaching a fire lamp on the side of the stage. She touches one and the tip of it starts burning, she twirls once with it, posing while firing the other stick.
She starts doing rapid steps around the stage, swirling and twirling around to the beat of the music.
The fire breather puts her palm on the top of one of her sticks, then she slowly moves while it looks like it's burning. People both panic and clap for her.
On the right side, there is a small table with an alcohol bottle. She dances towards it holding both of the sticks in one hand. The bottle's cap jumps just by the flick of her fingers and she takes a small amount in which she then puts a lit stick.
She moves slowly and carefully, both for her work and for the anticipation of the viewers. Building suspense during each show only makes people want to see more.
She takes the stick out and pushes out very little bits of air through her mouth and small lines burn away. The fire goes up and disappears gracefully.
She is preparing to end her performance, a few spins with some rapid steps, having full control of her body. She stops in the middle of the stage where she sways the fire above her head.
She slows down whenever they're right above her mouth and she lets out once again some short breaths. The fire creates swirly lines and sparks around, which makes the crowd stand up and applaud, chanting her name.
“This must be the greatest show I've ever seen!” Mary takes Arthur's hand as they stay up.
“Saint Denis is one hell of a wonder.” He can't lie, he is just as amazed.
The room drowned in the applause of people and they walked out of the theatre, to the trolley station.
The carriage's bells ring as the brakes are slowly being heard. Mary quickly turns to Arthur, “run away with me right now, and don't look back. Ever.”
Arthur sighs, his chest heaves with sorrow and he can feel his heart breaking. Every second spent looking into her eyes and trying to morph into her dreams only ever makes it harder for him. He wants to run away, to forget his past, but he can't. He has to save a few lives, he has to be strong for many others.
“I,” his lips tremble as he struggles to mutter out his sorry words “I can't. And we both know. I want to, more than anything.”
“I understand,” she looks down at her feet. She knows she is selfish to always ask this of Arthur, but she is also at fault for deepening her sadness further.
She knows what can be done and what can't but she still hopes. It's like wishing that the stars would align in a specific way and order. Something that's beyond their comprehension.
“I'm still sorry for starting up that business years ago.” She awkwardly stops, they both know repeating sorries won't help but it feels like the right thing to do. “And for always asking of you to come with me, when I, myself, know it's not possible.”
“I understand you.” His tone shifted as well, he knows he will be swimming in sadness and guilt once she drops her at the trolley, he wants to let go of her but at the same time he can't. “And I'm sorry too.”
He decides to stab the situation before any more despair engulfs any of them, “Now go, the trolley will be soon leaving.”
The bells ring for any last minute person, Mary walks to the entrance and she whispers her most sincere “I love you. Farewell.”
He nods and says “I love you too” back, hoping she heard or at least read it off of his mouth.
The trolley departs, and so does Arthur. Half of him doesn't know what to do with himself. Sure, he has to go back to camp and he will, but he is still desoriented.
If he could pick his last day on earth, it'd be this one, a day with Mary. It's the closest thing to Heaven for him.
Former New Hanover Gazette No.35, new Saint Denis Times No.51 makes Mary gasp out loud as she reads [Van Der Linde Gang Close To Capture – INFAMOUS KILLERS WILL SOON BE CAPTURED.
AUTHORITIES SAY THEY ARE CLOSE.]
She knows she is doing herself a bad job by reading the newspaper every day but she can't help it. Sleepless at night if she doesn't, sleepless at night if she does and finds a trace of them.
She's wondered many times if she could put up with gang duties and she decides everytime that she is no fit. She admires the women in the gang, they are brave but probably have no other options.
The news are terrifying. She feels even lonelier now, papers are flooded with news, sightings, but she tries to keep her composure.
It's been days since seeing Arthur, it's now evening and she is walking around Saint Denis’ docks, looking into the horizon. She walks and walks and reaches the end of the town, now looking into the bayou.
She sees some does and deers playing – which is strange, this area outbound from the town is filled with alligators. Sure, there are forests nearby, especially up into Annesburg, but for them to reach so close is weird.
She watches the sun fall as stars start to paint the sky. She takes one last glance at the pretty animals playing, and she goes back to her motel room, a sweet sleep awaits her.
Sunrise bleeds on the sky as Arthur takes his slow last breaths all alone. His chest empties itself.
It's no longer the life and world of gangs. It is 1907 and gangs have been terminated. Probably a few individuals still roam, not so freely knowing they have bounties on their heads and are wanted across multiple states.
Mary Linton has gone to Blackwater in the meantime, and there, she thought she caught sight of a familiar figure. Way too familiar.
“Newspapers, newspapers!” a kid announces as he sits at the corner of a street, swaying a few in the air. It all is a tactic, he catches a passer-by looking at him slightly and calls up to them, “partner, today's news!” or, in today's case, catches Mary's eyes, “news about Arthur Morgan, the orphan street kid who turned into a degenerate murder.” The oldest trick in the book, with the oldest quote said about him.
“How'd I know you're not a little liar?” Mary doesn't want to fall for such things, especially since scamming with a newspaper can be so easy.
“..there are drawings of the finest horses this country has seen!” He picks up one more newspaper and now ignored Mary and continues, “news about everything and nothing!” he coughs, so much dust rises from the ground as horses and people walk by, “25 cents, 25 cents!”,
“1 dollar, 1 dollar! 1 dollar for the latest 4 newspapers!”
Mary moves forward and into the cafe where she notices Sadie.
“Sadie..” she is unsure of where to look, of how to look. She recognises Sadie as Arthur has spoken of her, a widow who has achieved redemption and became one of the most known gunslingers.
“My my, if that ain't Mary Linton!” Sadie gets up from the table and opens her arms to bring Mary into a hug, which she gladly accepts. “Do tell, what brings you here?”
She thinks for a moment, and she is just as clueless, “I guess the wind has taken me far.”
They both sit down at the table and Sadie gestures to the owner of the cafe to place one more order.
Sadie wants to bring up the incident, but she fears. She knows what it's like, in a way she resonates with Mary.
She finally builds up courage, “so,” it still doesn't come easy, “I imagine you've… heard. Right?”
As vague as she is, Mary knows, and nods. “Charles told me, and he took me there.” She takes a sip of her coffee as she looks up, pretending to look out the window at the sky, when she really was just trying to push back her tears.
Sadie looks down to her hands that are resting on the table, half regretting, half happy that she doesn't have to deliver the sad news. “It was with good cause.” She extends her hand and places it over Mary's.
“I can imagine.”
“He did it for us all.”
“He told me he had people to take care of.” She smiles fondly, “I know.”
“One of the best men I've met, besides my late husband.”
Mary puts her other hand atop Sadie's as well. Both of them feel understood.
“Tell me about you.” Mary initiates. She sketches a genuine smile and nods reassuringly for Sadie to start.
“I'm a bounty hunter, Mary.” She smiles herself, “I've turned around, I'm trying to be a better person now.”
“I'm sure you're doing a great job.”
Sadie giggles at that, “now I get paid to beat men.”
Mary joins her, it's refreshing to speak with someone you know after so many years. Truth to be told, they are no close friends or anything, but they've crossed paths a few times, have heard of one another from a person or another.
“Jokes aside, it's solid. But I do want to try and start a family.”
“That's really nice! I'm happy to hear.”
“Yeah.. and you?”
“Not much, I hop from town to town, I might stay for Blackwater, though. Seems like it's a fine town.” she smiles, before she takes another sip. “When is your next job?”
“I'm waiting for my pals to get back, said they'll meet me here when they finish a route.”
Mary raises both her eyebrows and gives Sadie yet another fond smile.
“Speak of the devil,” says Adler.
Two men are now hitching their horses and making their way in. “Sadie, my lady.” They both say as they bow their hats down to their chest, and turn specially to Sadie.
“I see you've got to go,” Mary sits up as well, “I wish you an easy job.”
“Table on me!” She says, then gestures to the man behind the counter as he nods.
“My, you're so kind.”
Sadie smiles and leans down to whisper to Mary, “I've changed, Mary. From being hunted like a prey, to hunting it, and it's not about animals anymore.” She gets up proudly and says, “I'm a bounty hunter!”
Mary smiles like the sky has revealed a grand mystery tale to her. Sadie is so proud, that not only does she say once, but twice.
She learns to love through others – like Mary-Beth meeting Mary in a train station and giving her a copy of the book she just finished writing, Tilly allowing Mary to hold her baby when they randomly meet in Saint Denis.
Like when she noticed that the ring Abigail wears is the same ring that she wore when times were less tough with Arthur. It looks like Arthur has found the two people in love Mary hoped for.
And Mary almost thinks that she was born with grief.
She recognises pieces of Arthur everywhere she goes, a song in a tavern late at night, like how he'd tell stories of Javier singing to them all after a long day or a successful mission.
Or how she'd look at horses and try to find one with a temper like his, or wonder which one would be the bravest companion for the bravest cowboy.
Grief is braided into her, head to toe, tangled and messy. She walks with heavy heartstrings and she sees Arthur everywhere.
By 1914, there would be a vague memory that a gang was never taken out by external forces. They were ghost people now, more than ever.
Vanderline long lived and lingered on people's tongues, their words have rotted in their mouths.
A gang so strong, nobody could end them, but the very own members and leaders. They've broken at a point and have shattered so far. Self destruction became their fate.
Some have sworn to change their path, morally and physically, some have gone to create their own families, some have gone miles away and over the rivers.
And it is now past the era of gunslingers, gangs, and cowboys.