Birds of a Feather

Karen

Although nothing beat Blackwater's rushed retreat, leaving Lakay was one of the faster packing days they'd completed. Grimshaw whipped them into a frenzy with the lash of her sharp tongue so their haste was unsurprising. When they were ready to set off, Karen joined Tilly, Abigail and Jack in the back of the second wagon. Miss Grimshaw sat in the driver's seat, taking off as soon as Dutch signaled.

Karen was glad for leaving Lakay. She was sick of the goddamn swamps, the sweltering humidity, and them evil-eyed gators. Not to mention those creepy ghost people the reverend once warned them about.

Tilly liked to tease Karen for being as superstitious as Mary-Beth, but it was hard not to be with some of the strange things they'd seen lately, especially in this area. Even now, the wagon that carried them creaked its way up the hill through oppressive trees, shadows flitting between trunks like specters.

Dutch and Micah led the party on horseback, followed by Pearson's food wagon, where he suffered the companionship of Uncle beside him. Next, was their wagon with the other girls and Jack. Herr Strauss rode a shire on one side of the caravan train and Sadie with Bob on the other. Javier took up the rear of the train atop his horse, Boaz.

For traveling, it was preferable for Karen to be off the bottle. She didn't want to be more uncomfortable than she already was. Riding, either on a horse or in a wagon, always made her sick when she was inebriated. Karen felt woozy, unsure of the last time she'd eaten, but well aware of what she'd consumed last night.

She was drinking too much, even for her, but everything had seemed hopeless lately. When Sean died, he'd taken the liveliness with him. His cheerful compliments of her always brightened her mornings even when she'd found him an irritating shit most days. Everything around camp had been joyless since then, barring the night they'd gotten Jackie back.

Sure, they lived dangerously. It was part of the fun of it all. But Sean wasn't supposed to die how he did. He should have went out on a bank robbery with a wink and a cheeky retort to remember him by. Not shot in the head, and brought back bent over Bill's horse like a sack of potatoes, all the life drained out of him.

Arthur told her after the Valentine bank robbery that he didn't see those kinds of jobs as fun anymore. She hadn't understood what he'd meant, chalking up his change of opinion to his age and Hosea's influence.

After all, in Valentine, they'd completed it without casualties, brought home a good take and all on reliable information from her. But Arthur's comment that he was tired of burying friends came back to her like a slap. Now she understood was he was getting at. They were losing each other on a daily basis, it seemed.

Kieran got murdered, likely tortured before. Poor bastard weren't no close friend to her, but there weren't nothing wrong with him once she'd talked to him some. And Mary-Beth had sure took a shine to him.

When Molly left, everyone could've celebrated. Karen tried to talk with her when she'd worked herself up, but the woman was impossible. Besides, they could survive better without the drama of Molly O'Shea.

When everything went wrong at the Lemoyne bank, Karen didn't know what to think anymore. She hadn't realized she should have been biting her nails in worry like Abigail, waiting anxiously that night for a return that never happened.

When the boys got lost in the robbery, she'd settled with the idea that they was all lost. The gang was falling apart. Only a blind fool would miss it. How the hell were they supposed to survive with half of them gone? It was only a matter of time before they were all dead.

It weren't no hard feat to turn to the bottle for comfort. It'd proven a faithful companion in the past, when she'd first had to learn how to make money for herself, with no skills and only the body of a growing woman at her disposal.