Birds of a Feather II

Grimshaw

Susan inspected the main wagon for any of the gang's remaining possessions. All of it had been unpacked except for one trunk that she knew didn't need to be opened. She paused, resting a hand over the wood, her fingers running along the black metal bands bolted over the top.

Inside was a private collection of trinkets the others didn't know about. Whenever they lost one of their own, most of their property could be reused: blankets, clothing, weapons. But there were also personal belongings left behind that Susan couldn't find in her heart to throw away.

Jenny's charm bracelet full of missing charms, a damn near worthless piece of jewelry except to the girl who'd worn it. A polished bullet Mac had carried on his person with a tale of how it'd nearly killed him until he'd fished it out of his own body. From Davey, a marred poker chip he'd always flipped between his fingers and claimed was his good luck charm, but it had done nothing to prevent his death. Of Sean, she'd held onto a pewter flask he said was given to him from his Da.

Kieran hadn't been with them long, but she couldn't deny he'd made an impact and set aside one of the horse brushes he'd once excitedly warbled on about to her. Susan also had one of Hosea's neckerchiefs in here before he came back to them alive and well. And the last addition to this morbid collection, Leopold's spare eyeglasses.

He'd been a good friend to her, even if the others had disliked him. He was one of the few who'd been unafraid of her snarling. He'd been shrewd and practical, but his last act on this Earth had been to save the girls.

Of course, he'd also left the main group on the pretense of bringing back medical supplies so Susan couldn't sing his praises too highly.

Susan moved away from the wagon and had a look around at her work, at the completion of the campsite and felt satisfied. Even with the party of last night, she'd managed to get this place looking like home again.

Her eyes stopped roaming when they fell on the cave entrance, which had ended up being an unexpected note of contention between her and Micah.

She'd set up Dutch's tent on the right side of the cave opening. When she'd started plotting out the location of Hosea's tent next to it, Micah had come up to her and thrown down his bedroll, asserting the spot as his.

She didn't fully understand his adamant insistence since there would be no protection from the draft of the cave, but she hadn't the will to fight him at the time. She moved on and had Pearson get Hosea's tent set up further down and closer to Arthur's wagon.

Micah had done nothing except buddy up to Dutch since Hosea and Arthur's absence so she chalked his behavior up to him fighting to play favorite. She only wished Dutch liked his company a little less.

As her gaze continued to rove across the camp, she spotted Pearson, sitting on his ass, nursing a bottle of that nastiness he called Navy rum.

She marched up to him. "Mr. Pearson, I expect laziness from the rest of these degenerates, but you?"

He lifted his head and told her glumly, "I think these past few weeks are catching up to me, Susan."

He wanted to chat, she could see that. But she didn't have the time or the energy for it. While the camp was up and running, there were still minor chores to do. They'd pile up if she didn't make sure everything was taken care of.

Yet, she graciously offered to him, "Well, take a short break if you need it, but don't waste the whole day."

Pearson nodded, but had a far off look to him. He wouldn't move from this spot unless she did something.

She released an impatient sigh. "Yes, what's on your mind then?"

"I just didn't think we'd be running for this long. I was looking forward to setting up something a little more permanent after we were done in Blackwater. Now, it seems nothing more than a faded dream."