Loyalty Divided

Chapter Forty

Evangeline paced the length of her tent, worry gnawing at her insides like a relentless parasite. The sun had long set, casting the camp into a cloak of darkness punctuated only by the flickering glow of campfires. Arthur had been gone too long, and the knot in her stomach tightened with each passing minute.

She tried to busy herself with mundane tasks, but her mind kept drifting back to Arthur. His departure had been abrupt, and his absence left an unsettling void. Every rustle of leaves or crack of a twig set her on edge, her ears straining to catch any sign of his return.

Her thoughts were a whirlwind of concern and dread. Arthur was strong, capable of handling himself in almost any situation, but the world they lived in was unforgiving. The knowledge of this gnawed at her, and she found herself whispering silent prayers for his safe return.

"Miss Thornton," Dutch's voice called from outside her tent, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. She straightened, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the night.

Dutch stood by the main campfire, his expression unreadable in the flickering light. "We need to discuss the bank robbery," he said, his tone serious.

Evangeline nodded, her mind half on the plan and half on Arthur. She joined Dutch and Hosea by the fire, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. The robbery was crucial, and they had spent countless hours planning every detail. She and Arthur had scouted the bank, noting the positions of the guards, the layout of the building, and the best routes for escape. Every piece of information was vital, and she couldn't let her worry for Arthur jeopardize their chances of success.

Dutch began outlining the final details of the plan, his voice steady and authoritative. Evangeline listened, her mind conjuring images of the bank's exterior, the doors they had marked, the routes they had mapped. She forced herself to concentrate, to push aside the gnawing anxiety that threatened to consume her.

But even as she focused on Dutch's words, a part of her remained acutely aware of the silence that surrounded them. Arthur's absence was a gaping hole, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

They were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the camp. Evangeline's heart leaped into her throat as she turned toward the source of the noise. In the dim light, she saw Arthur stumbling into the camp, his figure silhouetted against the darkness.

"Arthur!" she called out, rushing toward him. As she drew closer, the sight of him made her blood run cold. His clothes were stained with blood, his face pale and drawn.

The camp fell silent as everyone turned to watch. Arthur's eyes were hollow, his expression one of profound grief. He moved as if in a daze, each step heavy with sorrow.

Evangeline's breath caught in her throat as she saw him. Every instinct screamed that something was terribly wrong, the blood on his clothes a stark testament to whatever horror he had endured. Her mind raced, a cacophony of worry and fear. What had happened? Where had he been?

Her thoughts splintered into fragments of dread and disbelief. She had seen Arthur face countless dangers, had witnessed his unyielding strength and resilience. But now, he seemed a mere shadow of the man she knew. The emptiness in his eyes was a stark contrast to the vibrant, fiercely protective Arthur she loved. The sight of him in such a state was a blow she wasn't prepared for.

Panic surged through her, mingling with a helplessness she rarely felt. She wanted to run to him, to hold him, to demand answers. But fear rooted her to the spot, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. Her mind conjured the worst possibilities, each one more horrifying than the last. Had he been ambushed? Was he wounded?