Rust and Roses

Chapter 6

The morning sun bathed the gang's hideout in a warm glow as Marie bit into a juicy apple, her gaze fixed on the unfolding day. At 15, she straddled the threshold between girlhood and womanhood. Reflecting on her turbulent past—raised by an abusive man until his death and sent to another of the same ilk—Marie now found safety, knowing John was secure. Despite the impending troubles Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur might drag her brother into, their promises reassured her. Marie refrained from diving too deeply into their criminal exploits, assisting Hosea only in occasional con-artist jobs.

"Morning, sweetheart!" Hosea's voice interrupted Marie's reverie. She turned to see him leaning over, a gentle kiss on her cheek followed by a playful ruffling of her hair. Hosea had become a surrogate father for her and John. While John regarded Dutch paternalistically, Marie never saw Dutch in that light—perhaps because she had little interest in a life of crime. In her deepest fantasies, she dreamed of marrying rich, freeing the gang from financial concerns.

"Morning, Hosea." Marie greeted with a smile. "How's the coffee this morning?" She asked, eyeing his cup.

"Disgusting, so it should wake me up," he chuckled. "What are you doing today?" Hosea inquired, skimming the newspaper he picked up in town the prior day.

"Probably the same as most days, laundry and sewing," Marie sighed. Despite her lack of interest in crime, boredom lingered around the camp.

"It's too nice of a day to do that," Hosea commented, admiring the land before them. "How about we go fishin'?" He suggested. Marie nodded enthusiastically, relishing the moments she spent fishing and hunting with Hosea. She learned invaluable lessons about survival and life from him, including the art of seasoning game with plants, a skill he felt the camp's navy cook lacked—a point they often joked about.

"Can we ask Bessie? I know she's itchin' to get out," Hosea proposed.

"'Course!" Marie affirmed.

"Maybe we can see if we can get your brother to come with us," Hosea winked. It was no secret that John despised fishing, finding it unbearably dull.

"I don't think we're that lucky," Marie giggled. Tending to her long brown hair, she brushed out the tangles before plaiting it. Bessie had persistently tried to cut Marie's hair, but she resisted, desiring long and wild locks that mirrored her spirit. After finishing the braid, Marie threw it back over her shoulder, its end brushing her bum.

"I should have expected you two would be up by now!" Bessie called out, walking towards the pair at the table. She leaned down to kiss her husband and then Marie's head. "When are you going to let me cut this hair?" she playfully asked, to which Marie retorted with a smile and a firm "Never." Bessie rolled her eyes, growing tired of their daily banter.

"I'll cut it in your sleep," Bessie threatened with a grin.

"Darling, let's leave her hair for another day. How would you like to go fishin' with us?" Hosea proposed.

"Well, I suppose Miss Grimshaw and Annabelle can manage," Bessie replied. "Sounds pleasant. I could use a break," she told her husband.

"Alright, then. Should we go soon?" Hosea asked.

"Where you goin'?" A fourth voice entered the conversation. The trio looked up to see Arthur standing at the end of the table, holding a cup of coffee. Marie smiled warmly at Arthur. Over the years in camp, she had developed a crush on him. He was rugged, yet kind. Arthur despised vulnerability, but Marie managed to coax out his softer side.

"We're goin' fishin'," Bessie informed him. "Are you able to come, Arthur?" Bessie asked, giving Marie a hidden, knowing look. Marie had confided in Bessie about her crush on Arthur, and although she thought him too old for her, Bessie relished every opportunity to tease her. Bessie hoped the crush would fade when Marie met a boy her age who wasn't her brother.