Birds of a Feather II

Mary-Beth

It was mid-afternoon when they finally crossed over from dirt paths and onto the cobblestone roads of Saint Denis. Arthur led the way, Charlotte following, then Mary-Beth and in the back, Mr. Trelawny. The day had stayed clear and dry, but clouds threatened to overtake the sun as the hours passed.

Despite the cheery weather's attempts to lift her spirit, Mary-Beth hadn't felt like herself ever since the fire at Charlotte's house. Through most of the traveling, she'd fallen into her own weary thoughts of self-pity. Of most concern to her, she hadn't had a snippet of inspiration all day and she feared its absence.

Trelawny filled the silence of the ride with tales of his traveling exploits from the most life-threatening to the ridiculously fantastical. Despite the allure of the stories, Mary-Beth's mind kept drifting off and Charlotte seemed to be listening with only half an ear, nodding on occasion.

Arthur probably couldn't hear most of Trelawny's rambling or he was actively ignoring them. She couldn't tell because Arthur had made the silent decision to hardly speak to any of them. He was on edge, periodically wiping his palms on his pant legs and running his gaze along the road as if he expected another ambush.

Mary-Beth sincerely hoped that wasn't the case again and she felt safer when they reached Saint Denis. She was no stranger to death, but never had she seen so many people she cared about killed in so short a time span and...maybe...it was starting to get to her. She wouldn't say she was as far gone as Molly had been, but she was starting to understand better the factors that led to Molly's erratic behavior.

Most of the others had been in high spirits after defeating the bounty hunters and reuniting as a group again. But they rejoiced while Mary-Beth grimly accepted her return back into the fold. She hadn't left to be rebellious, despite Miss Grimshaw's vitriolic accusations.

It all seemed lost now, but she was away from the camp for the day, so it was easier to deceive herself into believing her dreams hadn't been shattered. Not only had Herr Strauss died in that fire, but so too the rising spark of opportunity.

As their horses clattered at a trot down the lane, Arthur slowed and called back to Trelawny, "Where's this lawyer friend of yours?"

"Ah." Trelawny's face brightened. "An easy enough find, dear boy. Mr. Pierre has an office above the shops on Frontier Street, across from the prodigious Guillard's."

"Where's that?" Arthur asked with a hint of impatience.

"Above an ice cream parlor."

"'Above an ice cream parlor'?" Arthur repeated in disbelief. "What the hell kind of back alley contact is this fella?"

Trelawny admitted, "He isn't a well-known name in the city as of yet, but I assure you, Arthur, he knows his way around insurance companies and the courts. And his expertise is ideal for our purpose as he seeks to assist the less fortunate."

"A do-gooder lawyer?" Arthur shook his head. "Sure. I'll take your word for it."

"Head for the bank, Arthur." Trelawny poked fun, "I know you can find that conveniently enough."

Their pace slowed as they traveled on Milyonne Ave and the streets grew more populated. They took a left onto Frontier Street, a trolley chiming as it glided past, full of passengers. When they reached the courthouse, Arthur had them slow while he jumped from his saddle and claimed the hitching posts.

Trelawny stopped next to her and offered to assist her down, but Mary-Beth dismounted without his help. Beside her, Charlotte hadn't moved from the saddle and she was eyeing the ground warily.

Since Trelawny had proceeded to hitch their horses, she asked, "Arthur, can you help Charlotte?"

Mary-Beth thought it the simplest of requests, but Arthur glanced at Charlotte briefly before looking away and saying with reluctance, "Sure."