I woke up, lying on a bed with a sharp pain in my stomach. I groaned as I sat up, taking in my surroundings. What the hell was going on?

It was, of course, jail. I should have guessed.

"Ah, the stupid Yankee is awake," I heard a voice laughed and turned to see Bronte.

"Dutch won't let you away with this," I growled at him.

"Mr Van der Linde thinks you're dead," he said simply, "He won't be coming to rescue you, but you could perhaps get out of this. If you tell me where they are holed up. I dispose of them, you go live with your parents, everyone is happy."

"Not a chance," I said, wincing in pain as I stood.

"Well, you have time to reconsider," he said, "You will hang in two days. Think, is that stupid cow fucker really worth your neck? Either way, someone will die."

"And I think that person will be you," I snarled at him, "Don't underestimate Dutch. You will find yourself regretting it."

"I gave you a chance," he growled, "I would have loved you, you would have been satisfied had you lived with me. Yet you turned me down, and look where it got you. I could have given you everything."

"You couldn't have given me anything I wanted. I would never have loved you," I snarled back at him, "You are a sadistic, perverse degenerate, and you will get what's coming to you. Whether I'm alive or dead when it happens, I know you will get what you deserve, you bastard."

He raised his gun suddenly, anger flashing in his eyes as he pushed his arm through the bars of my cell. I gave a small laugh, stepping forward and allowing the cool metal to press against my forehead, staring at him with little emotion.

"Go on. Shoot me," I hissed, "Put me out of my misery. I'll die knowing it'll make Dutch that little bit angrier, make his revenge that little bit sweeter."

He gave a bark of laughter, pulling his gun away and holstering it before leaving again. I collapsed down in the bed, feeling despondent. Did Dutch really think I had died? I guess, he had seen my stomach be blown open, if that hadn't killed me he probably assumed the police had.

"Let me see my daughter," I heard a roar.

"Of course, Mr Wright," Bronte replied, "Say your last goodbye to her, your money means nothing to me."

The doors burst open and my father ran in, stopping at my cell. He pressed himself against the bars, looking down at my frail figure as I smiled at the roof. I turned my head to him, his eyes were filled with sadness as he stared at me. I forced myself to sit up, groaning as I turned my body around and forced myself to my feet.

"How do you manage to get yourself into these messes?" he asked as I approached him, grabbing my hands tightly.

"A mixture of foolishness and naivety," I said, giving him a small smile, "How did you find me?"

"A boy came to the door. Told us you'd robbed the trolley station but were caught, he saw them taking you in," he raised an eyebrow, "We'll talk about him once you're out."

"I don't think I'll get out," I sighed, "Not this time."

"What about Dutch? Won't he help?" He asked.

"He would, if he knew I was still alive," I said with a small sigh, "He saw my stomach be blown open. He assumes I'm dead."

"They patched you up pretty well," my father commented.

"They offered me freedom in exchange for the rest of the gang," I gave a small laugh, "If I was on death's door, they knew I wouldn't even consider it. Its a half-hearted attempt, but enough to keep me from bleeding out until I'm either hung or free to see a real doctor."

He thought for a second before coming very close to the bars.

"Where is your camp?" he asked quietly, "I'll go to them. Tell them."

"If you go there, I don't know what they'll do," I whispered back, "Possibly shoot you before you could get a word out."

"I'll make sure they don't, and I will make sure someone comes out to save you," he assured me, "You heard Bronte. My money won't do anything this time. We need more effective measures, and I would do it myself, but since your lot are the experts..."

"Shady Belle, an old plantation house," I said quietly, "But please be careful. Don't linger for longer than you must. And if I do get out, understand that I won't be able to visit until the heat has died down. Let... let Harry know too."

He left me, a determined look on his face.

The next twenty-four hours were the worst of my life. My stomach, though not life-threatening, was in agony, and I was sick with fear. Would my father even be able to speak before Dutch shot him in the face? Would Dutch come to my rescue if it was my father who told him?

But my fears were unfounded. The doors burst open around twelve hours before my scheduled execution, in the dead of night when only one guard was on duty. Four masked men entered silently, no gunshots went off, the guard was knocked unconscious, and five people left.

They helped me walk to the Count, I rode back, clinging to Dutch for dear life. My saviours had been him, John, Bill and Arthur. They had listened to what my dad had to say and immediately planned their rescue mission.

We arrived back at Shady Belle and I took a second to relish my freedom. I turned to Dutch and hugged him tightly. He seemed taken aback before he hugged me back, holding me fast against his chest, his chin resting on my head as he sighed, the fear he had felt leaving him.

"I thought you were dead," he said quietly, "I woulda come sooner."

"I know, Bronte told me," I sighed, pulling back, "The only reason they didn't just let me die from that gunshot is because he wanted me to sell you all out, he said if I agreed I could be free and live with my parents."

"Why didn't you accept?" Dutch asked me as the others started to appear.

"Dutch, the very first time you mentioned my parents could be found, I told you that no matter who they were, you were my true family," I said sincerely, "I wasn't lying. I love them, sure, but I would never dream of leaving you lot for that life. It wasn't even an option in my eyes."

"My daughter," he smiled at me, "Get some rest. Hosea will check to make sure they really healed that gunshot."

"Ann, you're alive!" The others finally descended on us, clapping me on the back and hugging me tightly. Well, it was nice to know I was missed.

Hosea worked his magic, removing the bullet from my stomach and stitching me up better than it had been before. He bandaged me up, giving me a stern warning not to overwork myself and pull the stitches, before allowing me to go sit by the campfire with the others.

"So, you told your father where we were," Arthur said, sitting beside me.

"I wasn't going to, but he would have done something even stupider otherwise," I sighed, "What happened?"

"I was on guard duty," he told me, "I recognised him, so of course I let him in, especially given how desperate he looked. He told me you were alive, so I called for Dutch to come."

"I'm surprised Dutch didn't just shoot him," I remarked, gratefully accepting the bowl of stew Javier passed me.

"Well, I think he woulda," he sighed as I shovelled food into my mouth, "He thought he was here to get revenge. Dutch had his gun out, saying it weren't his fault, Hosea had to jump in and stop him as I tried to explain. Eventually, he calmed down and your father was able to explain."

"Dutch was in shock," a voice came from behind me. Hosea. "He didn't believe your father at first, he was adamant it was a trap. That your father had joined with Bronte for the sole purpose of getting revenge for your death. We managed to convince him otherwise, but he was still doubtful. I went to the police station under the guise of giving them a tip to make sure you were there, Bronte doesn't know me, and as soon as I returned, Dutch made his plan to get you out."

"Thank you, both of you," I smiled at them, "I honestly thought my luck had finally run out."

"While I'm alive, Ann, I'll make sure that never happens," Hosea gave me a soft smile.

"You came," Eagle Flies said as I walked to him. I hadn't rested for too long, I didn't know how long it would be before the Pinkertons or Bronte would actually find us, so I took the first opportunity to get up and working again. Arthur was the one I had to argue with the most, so I had to sneak past him in order to get out of camp.

"Course I came," I kneeled down beside him, "I said I would."

"There's a foreman," Eagle Flies stood up, "His name is Danbury. He has the files in the office above the refinery room. It's that window with the blinds drawn up."

"I see it," I nodded, looking through my binoculars.

"If the files are as incriminating as we believe, Mr Cornwall's men will destroy them if they know you're coming," he told me.

"There's only one of me," I said to him, "I don't intend for them to know I'm coming. What will the files say?"

"There'll be a report from Leland Oil Development Company," he replied, "You can crawl under a fence or hide in a wagon. They keep rolling in."

"I'll go take a look," I nodded.

"If there's a problem, call for me," he said.

"I thought the whole point is that this has nothing to do with you?" I asked.

"Ideally," he said as I walked away.

A wagon was coming down the hill as I approached the oil refinery, so I worked quickly to sneak inside it. I ducked down, making as little noise as I could. I would have to sneak out before they loaded up whatever they were transporting.

"Picking up?" The man at the gate asked the driver.

"Yep, supposed to meet the early train to Saint Denis," the driver responded.

"Okay, you better get a move on, then," the cart started to move again, and I was inside Cornwall Kerosene and Tar.

The wagon came to a stop and I quickly slid out, hiding behind some barrels. Due to the time of day, there weren't too many guards about, and the driver started loading up immediately.

As soon as his back was turned, I ran quietly towards the factory, letting myself in with as little noise as possible. There were two men on the bottom floor of the building, but there was enough machinery that I made it to the stairs with little difficulty.

Upstairs, only one guard was keeping watch, and he was staring out the window, giving me ample time to make it to the office I needed. I snuck over and opened the door, quietly shutting it behind me.

"What... what do you want?" the man in the office asked as I pushed a chair against the door, preventing anyone from entering.

"You must be Danbury," I said, ignoring his question.

"Who... what?" He asked, retreating to the back of his office.

"I need a file by the Leland Oil Development Company," I said, advancing on him and grabbing his shirt, "The one about the oil near Wapiti. I'm from head office."

"You're not from head office!" I slapped him across the face.

"Does that seem important right now?" I asked him.

"I..." I slapped him again.

"Danbury, think! A mind is a terrible thing to lose!" I said mockingly, "Especially all over such a nice floor as this."

"It's here, it's here!" I dropped him and allowed him to go to his desk.

He pulled the papers out and handed them to me, I pocketed them with a smile.

"You done good, Danbury, real good. They'll give you a promotion for this," I told him.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and someone tried to open it. Of course, it wouldn't budge.

I gave Danbury a warning look as the person on the other side called for him.

"I'm just working, all's fine!" Danbury called, but his voice was obviously shaking.

"Now stay quiet," I said, heading for the window, "Or head office will send me back to get you."

I opened the window and stepped through onto the roof attached, sliding down. I realised too late that I was about to land in front of a guard, and I couldn't stop myself.

I froze as he turned to me, his gun trained at my head.

"Weapons on the ground and hands in the air!" He yelled as two others ran over to back him up.

I raised my hands when there was a loud explosion behind me, causing us all to look around. I took the opportunity to run for cover and draw my gun, dealing with the three men quickly before they could react again.

I ran towards the explosion, I knew it was Eagle Flies.

"Over here!" I heard him yell as I dodged shots, there were more guards than I had realised.

He was sitting on his horse, Roach beside him. I jumped on Roach's back as he covered me with his bow and arrow, geeing the horse on immediately to get out of reach of the bullets that were getting too close for comfort.

"We need to go!" He yelled, "Did you get the documents?"

"Yeah, but we need to get the hell out of here," I replied, yelling over the gunfire.

"Follow me!" He yelled, and we rode hard away from the flames.

Some guards whose horses hadn't fled followed us, but we picked them off with ease. It didn't take long for us to be clear of the danger, and we stopped up the hill a little ways. I laughed slightly at the sight of the burning oil factory. That was gonna be a story for the papers.

"That explosion came just in time," I told him.

"I was happy to watch some of that oil burn," he grinned, "So you met Mr Danbury?"

"Yes, don't worry," I said, "He was very obliging. I thought you wasn't getting involved?"

I stared at the burning oil rig again, an eyebrow raised.

"I thought you were gonna enter and leave silently," he retorted.

"Thank you," I said seriously, handing him the papers, "You saved my life."

"Thank you," he took them, "I hope... well, I don't know what I hope, but who knows? Maybe these'll be of some use. Take this."

He handed me a stack of cash.

"Thank you," I nodded at him as he rode off. Maybe Dutch was right, there could be some money in this for us.

I got an earful as soon as I returned to camp. Arthur had everyone searching high and low for me, until John announced he himself had actually seen me leave on Roach. He himself got an earful while I was gone, something about him being put on guard duty with express instructions to put a stop to anything suspicious, for example, me sneaking out.

Arthur was, unsurprisingly, annoyed. To my surprise, it was Javier and Bill who jumped to defend me from him, saying that if I felt well enough, I could do what I wanted.

"Arthur, she's an adult," Javier was saying, "Look at her, she came back fine."

"What were you even doing?" he demanded, most of camp were staring in our direction.

"Helping the natives, I was collecting a file that proved folk were searching their land for viable oil reserves," I shrugged, "I got out fine, they don't know who it was."

"Who's oil factory did you break into?" Hosea asked suddenly.

I groaned inwardly and Bill let out a laugh.

"Just one of them things, I bet," he teased me, but there was no malice behind it.

"Listen, he won't know it was us," I said quickly, "Nobody who saw me is still ali..."

I trailed off as I realised the man I threatened was likely still there.

"Oh fantastic, now we've got Cornwall on our backs again," Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation.

"They needed our help," I argued, "I was just doing what I thought was right! It's not like he'll know I'm a member of Dutch's gang!"

Arthur marched off, Hosea following him, and I sighed.

"Don't worry about them," Bill put his hand on my shoulder, "They were both worried about you, we all were. I wouldn't advise disappearing like that again, though."

"If I hadn't disappeared without a word, Arthur would have never let me go," I sighed, "I don't need babying. I'm a grown woman!"

"You're a kid, kid," he laughed at me, "Dutch will be happy you brought some money in, though. Morgan'll get over it, I'll have words."

"Thanks, Bill," I smiled at him as he left me.

Bill Williamson was an enigma. He acted dumb as rocks half the time, but there were moments where it was clear he was always watching and listening. He acted as though he didn't care, but there was definitely a heart in there, and occasionally he let his facade slip. The man could get on my nerves, but I respected him.

I kicked a rock before marching up to my room, cursing under my breath. I hoped I hadn't brought Cornwall down on us again, there was no way that man would know it was a member of Dutch's gang who did it, not just a friend of the natives. 

If I had been the one to mess things up this time, Arthur being upset with me was the least of my worries.

The next time I was in Saint Denis, I came across a Brother Dorkins. He asked for my help in rescuing some highly illegal slaves, to which I obliged, and asked me to see him again. The next time I met him the day after, he was with a sister and they were teaching some orphans to read. As we spoke, one of the kids robbed the sister and I did my duty, retrieving it.

However, on my way back, I came across a face I did not think I'd ever see again.

"Hey, don't I know you?" I said, frowned at the woman.

She was a prostitute and looked pretty run down, but something struck me as familiar.

"Oh no, not you," she backed away, fear evident in her eyes.

"Mrs Downes?" I asked, incredulous, "How... I mean..."

"No... no! Help!" She screamed, running away, "This woman is bothering me! Officer!"

I swore under my breath and took off running. Now that she'd set the law on me, I didn't have time to spare a thought for what had happened to her. I had to get out of Saint Denis - and fast!

Strong arms grabbed me before I quite made it to Roach and I made to fight before realising who it was. 

"Quick, in here," Harry whispered, dragging me along behind him towards the alley.

We sat in the darkness silently for what felt like hours until the sounds of lawmen died down. As soon as we knew we were safe, we burst out into laughter.

"You are a nightmare," he laughed, "I don't even want to know!"

"I didn't even do anything wrong this time!" I laughed back before stopping, "Well... that's not quite true."

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his face serious.

"It was a woman I just saw. She was a prostitute but... it's my fault," I shook my head, ashamed, "I had to collect a debt from her husband. He was dying of tuberculosis but I still beat him, I don't know why... at that time, all that was on my mind was the money I was owed. He died early because of me and I was sent to collect the money from his widow, they had to sell the house and now she's here... God if I could do things differently."

"Well, you can't right the wrong you made," he told me, "But perhaps you'll find a way to get her back on track at some point... I hate to say, but you are at fault for her being in this mess, perhaps you can find it in yourself to clean it up."

"Yeah," I glanced down, feeling ashamed.

"I haven't seen you since that trolley job... how are you feeling? I heard you were shot?" he asked, seeing how despondent I was.

"I've been shot before, I'm fine," I leaned backwards, "Dutch was wrong. Bronte set us up, there was no money at the station. Just a huge trap to try kill us, and he almost succeeded. Dutch won't take it well, I dread to think what plan he's cooked up next."

"Be safe," he grabbed my hand, "Don't follow him blindly,