Liars And Thieves

Chapter 8

Days have passed since the train robbery, since then Grace hasn't left the camp much. She had gotten so stuck into the book that Hosea gave to her. 

"Dutch? Dutch, what's wrong?" Molly's Irish accent rung out. Grace peered up from her book, looking across the camp to see Dutch, John and Leopold race in, Dutch's face full of shock. "Susan! Pearson! Start packing, someone help John with Strauss!" Dutch ordered, taking his hat off of his head and scratching his head. Grace closed her book, hurrying over to see if John needed her help. She saw Charles and Javier already with John, carrying the injured Leopold.

"What happened?" Grace asked John. John looked over his shoulder before asking Javier and Charles to get him to his bedroll. They both took Leopold away, John turning to face Grace.

"Leviticus Cornwall found us, caused us to shoot our way out of Valentine so now we got to move," John explained. Grace noticed a small graze on John's neck. She strained her eyes, leaning in a little to get a closer look.

"What is that?" Grace asked. 

"They caught Strauss and I, held a knife to my throat. If it wasn't for Arthur, we would probably have our throats slit," John sighed. Grace noticed a wide-eyed Abigail hurrying over, Jack's hand in hers. 

"John! What happened? Are you okay?" Abigail questioned, running her fingers over the graze on his neck. As John began to reassure Abigail he was fine, Grace left the family. She heard Strauss wail in pain as she looked over to see Bill and Javier holding him still as Charles removed the bullet. 

"Miss Peters! Can you help me please?" Tilly Jackson called out from behind one of the wagons. Grace hurried over, finding the woman attempting to lift a large box. Grace grabbed one side, Tilly grabbing the other and the two heaved the box up into the wagon. Grace pushed it towards the back. "They just can't seem to stay out of trouble," Tilly muttered, sound annoyed. Grace sighed, she understood how Miss Jackson felt. All things were nowadays was running and trying to lay low. 

"Seems so," Grace agreed as Tilly waved Kieran over, insisting him to start attaching the horses. Tilly turned back to Grace, her brown eyes sparkled.

"We'll be okay though, won't we?" Tilly asked. Grace nodded, not wanting to worry anyone else. Tilly grinned before thanking her, beginning to load more objects into the back. Grace heard a horse come running towards camp, the horse being Arthur's. The horse came to a hard stop, Arthur swinging out of the saddle and hurrying over to Dutch. He must have held the law back, keeping them off of Dutch, John and Strauss. 

"You need anymore help?" Grace asked. Tilly stood up, dusting her hands on her skirt.

"I don't think so. Go gather your belongings and get them packed, Miss. The quicker everyone moves, the faster we can get out," Tilly advised. Grace nodded, Grace had been so focused on making sure everyone else was okay before even considering herself. Grace hurried over to her cot, gathering her belongings. She attached her gun belt around her waist, throwing the strap of her rifle over her shoulder. She swept her photos, ammunition and Hosea's book up into her blanket on her cot, tying the blanket off with string to create a sack. She carried her stuff over to the nearest wagon, pushing it in and towards the back, allowing more room for other items. Grace placed her belongings down in time to see Arthur calling out to Charles before they both headed to the entrance. Grace hurried back, heaving her cot off of the ground and carrying it towards the same wagon. Grace rested the cot against the wagon, finding her strength to lift it and push it in. She sighed with relief once the cot was in, catching her breath. 

"This has to the fastest the camp has packed yet!" Sean exclaimed, trying to find something positive about the situation. Grace turned around to see Sean standing behind her, a bottle in hand. Grace shook her head in disgust, snatching the bottle from him. "Hey!" He cried out as Grace took a swig before pouring out the beer and throwing the bottle away.