Something was different about Arthur, Hosea thought.

As a gang member, Arthur was the one they relied on the most. No one worked nearly as hard, brought nearly as much money, and supported Dutch as much as Arthur had.

But lately? Arthur was standing up for himself, going against Dutch's word. And didn't that drive Dutch insane. Hosea could tell, his friend seemed to send more glares Arthur's way. The entire camp could feel the tension, especially Molly, who had to deal with Dutch's frustration the most. At night, Hosea could pick up on the angry whispers as they tried, in vain, to keep their fighting away from the rest of the camp.

"Dutch, we need to talk," he finally said, when Arthur was out of the camp.

"What is it, Hosea?" Dutch sounded tired.

"You need to talk to Arthur."

"No, Arthur needs to apologize!"

"Dutch-"

"Hosea, he refused to help Micah. He didn't want to do the train job. He keeps doubting me!"

Hosea sighed. Sometimes, Dutch was difficult to get through to, and he had to be careful. "Dutch, do you even listen to what Arthur says when he disagrees with you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Arthur was right, up in the mountains. That train job was a risk we didn't need. We haven't even sold those bonds yet, and we've been fine these last few weeks."

"But we will-"

"And Micah?" Hosea continued. "He is hotheaded, and I can understand why Arthur doesn't trust him."

Dutch opened his mouth to say more, probably to shout at Hosea about doubting as well, but a different shout from the trees interrupted him.

"Mr. Van der Linde! Mr. Matthews!" It was Tilly, leading a large gray horse, Jack clutching the saddle horn. There was blood on his jacket.

"Jack!" They heard Abigail yelling, running over to help her son off Arthur's horse as Dutch and Hosea raced over from the tents. John also made his way over, fear written across his face.

"Jack, are you hurt?" Abigail asked. Jack's eyes were red and his cheeks stained with tears, but he shook his head no.

"Jack, its alright, tell us what happened," Hosea said.

"Uncle Arthur… he said… he said I had to go get you and Pa," the boy sniffled.

"You did good, Jack, real good. Do you know where Arthur is?"

"He said… down the hill… to the right."

"I'll find him, Hosea," John said. "Me too," Dutch said, the two of them heading off Arthur. Hosea was left behind to wait for news.

Arthur couldn't be hurt that bad, could he? He had gotten Jack to ride back, but the blood? Hosea was terrified.

"There were two men, they hurt Uncle Arthur," Jack continued to cry. Abigail hugged her son.

Minutes passed, with Hosea, Miss Grimshaw, and Reverend Swanson waiting anxiously for Dutch to return. Then, the sound of horses, The Count and Old Boy burst through the trees, Dutch was yelling for them, and Arthur…

Arthur's right shoulder was drenched in blood, his face pale and sweaty. Even as Charles and John pulled him off the back of Dutch's horse, he barely made a sound. His eyes were half open, glassy and drifting.

"In here, quickly," Hosea guided them into Arthur's tent. They set him down, and Hosea was there, providing pressure to Arthur's injury. He noticed a second patch of blood on his left side, but it wasn't nearly as large. Arthur whimpered, trying to move away.

"It will be OK, Arthur," he said, and Reverend Swanson was pressing a bottle of painkiller to Arthur's lips. Arthur swallowed some, and his eyes drifted shut. The three set to work, stopping the bleeding, and pulling the bullet out of Arthur's shoulder.

Dutch hovered off to the side as Miss Grimshaw finished stitching up Arthur's side.

"It was the Pinkertons," he said. "They're dead. Arthur killed them."

Hosea was shaking, and could only just nod. He had told Miss Grimshaw that he would watch Arthur first. His boy was still unconscious, and Hosea knew they would have to carefully check for infection and fever.

"So they've found us."

"They know we are in the area, at least. I sent Micah and Bill to move the bodies somewhere else."

"We will have to wait for Arthur to wake up to find out what happened."

Dutch continued to stand awkwardly in the corner, until Hosea asked, "How's Jack?"

"I don't know, Abigail is taking care of him."

Eventually, Dutch left, and Hosea settled in for the night.

Hours later, he was waking Miss Grimshaw. Arthur's skin was hot, his previously pale face now flushed. Under closed lids, his eyes darted back and forth, tiny gasps occasionally containing muttered words that Hosea couldn't understand. Hosea was left running a wet cloth over his forehead until he was forced to go get some rest, and a rotation of people began. Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen all took turns sitting with Arthur. Charles stopped by. John joined Hosea the next morning when it was Hosea's turn again. Even Sadie Adler poked her head in.

Later, when Hosea was alone, he started to tidy up the tent, just for something to take his mind away from the panic that had settled in his chest the moment Arthur's horse had turned up. Arthur's arrival had thrown the place into chaos, and he didn't think Arthur would appreciate his clothes strewn across the grass, fortunately a little contained since they had lowered the tent flaps.

His son was still feverish, though they had kept it from getting too bad. Miss Grimshaw would be by soon to check his injuries and change the bandages. But Arthur was still too pale, and he hadn't moved all night. His breathing was quiet and shallow.

One of the items on the ground was Arthur's satchel, its contents spilling out. He sighed, picking up the horse treats and some herbs Arthur had obviously found. Some of the things had been kicked under Arthur's cot, and he noticed Arthur's journal open.

He swore he hadn't meant to look in it at all. But the image caught his eyes, a man sprawled on the ground, dark shading around the man's head that looked suspiciously like blood. But that didn't give Hosea a pause. It was the name.

Sean.

What the hell? Hosea thought. He flipped the page.

Sean has been killed. I'm more sad than I can admit. I loved that little loud mouthed wretch more than I knew - he was like an annoying little brother to me. What fun we had riding together - and now, he's dead. His head shot half off in an ambush. What a goddamn mess we are making of things. Still NO Confederate GOLD, but a shit load of trouble.

What the hell?

Sean was outside. Hosea had heard him talking with the others (Arthur was right about loud), and they had never been far enough south to care for something like Confederate money. What was Arthur writing about?

So he started flipping pages backwards, trying to find something, anything that correlated to the last few weeks. Arthur had bought this journal in Blackwater, surely there had to be something familiar in here about that!

But Arthur had written about a town called Rhodes, some feud between two families. He had written about Colm O'Driscoll kidnapping him, about being a deputy in a town. Between those notes were drawings, stories of people Arthur had met that he had never mentioned before. Then, Hosea found an entry about Jack. In it, Arthur described going fishing, meeting Pinkerton agents. But there was nothing about an injury, and a few final words about Dutch.

Dutch don't seem too worried but I am beginning to have some doubts as to this wisdom in his indifference.

Outside the tent, Hosea heard Miss Grimshaw ordering the girls around. Before she wandered in the relieve him, he slipped Arthur's journal in his pocket.

God, what happened to Arthur? Why had he written past this day?

Miss Grimshaw took her place next to Arthur, and Hosea retreated to his own tent. He hated that he was about to invade his son's privacy, but he had to know. Over the next few hours, he learned everything. Arthur had apparently lived all this twice, and the first time? It wasn't pleasant. Tears fell from Hosea's eyes as he read about Jack's kidnapping, and traveling to Saint Denis. He read as Arthur grew more and more worried about Dutch, and Dutch's plans growing risky and dangerous. Then, his own death, followed by Lenny. Arthur returning from Guarma, exhausted, only to have the Pinkertons show up again.

His eyes stung as he read about Arthur's tuberculosis. His son had suffered so much, lost so much, and now he was dying himself. Hosea learned about Dutch's slow descent into madness, abandoning John in prison, and then, Arthur's final message.

John, protect Abigail and Jack.

Rains Fall - save your son as you could not save your people.

Dutch, start listening to them as they really loved you.

And the next? Arthur was back in the mountains, the day he had passed out while hunting with Charles, writing about what happened before he died. A final train robbery. John being shot off a train, and Dutch just leaving him. Arthur saving Abigail, and finding out Micah was the rat. Micah killing Arthur after he helped John escape.

No wonder Arthur couldn't stand the sight of Micah. He had been Arthur's killer!

And Dutch? Arthur had seen what happened to Dutch when everything fell apart.

He needed to see his son.

But before he could get there, he was stopped by the last person he wanted to see right now.

"Hosea, how's Arthur? Is something wrong?" Dutch asked when he caught a glimpse of Hosea's face.

Hosea tried to brush past him, muttering, "He's fine," but Dutch grabbed his arm.

"He will get better, he has to."

"All this fuss over Morgan, like always." Hosea's fingers curled into a fist when he heard Micah's sarcastic voice. Not now, he couldn't handle Micah now.

"Can't handle two men, falling off his horse," Micah continued. "Seems to me, Morgan is getting pretty weak-"

CRUNCH! The sound hit Hosea's ears before the pain in his fist registered, and he saw Micah stumbling back. Dutch grabbed his arms and pulled him away from Micah.

"Hosea, what is wrong with you?" Dutch shouted in his ear. Micah cursed and tried to launch himself at Hosea, but Charles had come up from behind to grab him.

"You better watch yourself, old man!" Micah shouted as blood leaked from his nose. Hosea twisted out of Dutch's grasp, and walked towards Arthur's tent.

"Keep Micah away from Arthur. And me!" He ducked inside.

"I couldn't sleep," was his explanation to Miss Grimshaw, who had been listening to the confrontation.

"He hasn't woken up, but he seems better. Still a little warm," she said. Her eyes were a little red as well.

Finally, just as the sun started to peak over the horizon, Arthur stirred. His small whimper when he accidentally pulled on his injuries caused Hosea to sit up immediately. "Arthur?" he called, and Arthur was blinking up at him, hurt and exhausted, but alive.

"Hosea?" he coughed, trying to sit up. Immediately, he groaned when he moved his right arm, flopping back on the cot.

"Here, drink this," Hosea said, helping to lift Arthur's head so he could have some water.

"Is Jack OK?"

"Jack is fine, just a little worried for his Uncle Arthur."

"Good, that's good," Arthur sighed.

"You better not be making a habit out of this, Mr. Morgan," Miss Grimshaw said. Arthur gave a tiny smile, his eyes fluttering as he fought to stay awake. "Let me get you something to eat, you are too thin these days. Then, you can go back to sleep."

"What happened, Arthur?" Hosea asked when she was gone, giving Arthur's hand a squeeze. Arthur's fingers curled around his.

"There were Pinkertons, they found me at the river. They want Dutch, told me I would go free if I gave them Dutch."

Just as Arthur had written before. "You got them, Arthur. They're dead."

"Didn't mean to, didn't want Jack in danger."

"I know, son. But Jack is fine."

"He said he killed Mac."

"Oh, Arthur…"

"Couldn't let him kill anyone else," he muttered, eyes starting to slip shut just as Miss Grimshaw returned. Hosea supported Arthur as Susan spooned broth into his mouth. Arthur was barely awake when the bowl was finished. They laid him back on the bed, Hosea running a hand through his hair, and Arthur was asleep once again.

Hosea didn't need to ask. He knew Arthur had killed the Pinkertons because of what was written in his journal.

So, what was going to happen now?