LAST CHANCE → sean macguire ✔

four , one

Willa whistled an old tune as she rode up the hill to Beaver Hollow, the camp they had moved to after the Pinkertons found them in the swamp. No one but Pinkertons were hurt there, thankfully, but they couldn't risk lingering.

Willa wasn't too fond of Beaver Hollow. The caves seemed to echo at night, the howling wind sounding like screams, and blood had been shed the first day they had arrived. Poor Molly O'Shea, overtaken by a love that wasn't returned, had told the Pinkertons about the bank job. She had gotten Hosea and Lenny killed, Sean shot and almost killed, Willa and John captured by the army, and the boys sent all the way to an island called Guarma. Willa couldn't help but feel no sympathy for the poor girl.

"Willa?" Charles' voice called from up ahead.

"Yeah, it's me. Somethin' wrong?" She spurred her horse forward to meet up with him quicker. He was already on Taima, his horse.

"I don't know. Will you ride with me?" He wore a troubled look that Willa rarely saw on him. Seeing him worried made her worried.

"Of course. Where to?" She turned to the camp and whistled loudly. Three beats. Footsteps came running over.

"Wapiti. The Indian Reserve nearby. Arthur should be waiting for us there." Willa shifted in her saddle. She hated going there. Not because of the people, but because of what they were going through. When she was there, all she could see was sorrow and sickness, and she couldn't do anything about it. That feeling was one of the worst.

"You whistled, Willa?" Libbie crested the hill, blinking down at them.

"Yeah. Take this deer and the rabbits up to Pearson. I have to help Charles and Arthur." Willa instructed, gesturing to her catch on the back of her horse. Libbie approached slowly, frowning.

"You'll come back, right?" Libbie's voice broke, as did Willa's heart.

"Of course I will. I'll always come home to you," She waited for Libbie to get the carcasses off, then spurred the horse forward, "Stay safe, you hear? I'll be back soon!" Then she rode off, side-by-side with Charles.

"Follow me. It's just up here." Charles took the lead.

"So what's going on? I heard Dutch, Micah and Arthur got into trouble in Annesburg? Killed Cornwall, if I'm not mistaken? That can't be good for us laying low." Willa grumbled and Charles snorted.

"I don't know what Dutch is doing anymore. We seem to just be digging ourselves into a deeper hole than ever before. It's... It's getting out of hand." Dutch had come back from Guarma with a new look on the situation, and he had been making rash decisions ever since that nearly cost the gang heavy losses.

"I hear ya, but what can we do about it? Ever since we lost Hosea, Micah's taken it upon hisself to put him right at Dutch's side. Things have been getting steadily worse ever since, and we weren't doing too good to begin with." A heavy sigh came from Willa as they made it over the hill, into the camp. Willa felt her heart ache for the people around her, so damaged and distraught, but still clinging to the last drops of hope.

"We need to help these people. Dutch can't get a hold of them, he'll tear this place apart for his own benefit." Arthur greeted them.

"What, how?" Willa looked around.

"I dunno yet. I can just see it on his face-- he's planning something. Something not entirely for the good of these people--" Arthur broke off into a bout of coughing that made Willa's stomach lurch.

"Arthur, have you seen a doctor for that cough? It can't just be the swamp air now." She prodded, sliding off the compact Appaloosa she now rode. Arthur only answered with more coughing and he leaned against the nearest thing he could, "Charles?" Willa pressed her hand to Arthur's back, sending a worried look to her friend.

"Let's get him there. Knowing is better than not, I'm afraid."

"No... I'm... I'm fine--" Arthur about keeled over in a coughing fit and Willa shook her head, guiding him to her horse.

"I won't hear any of it, Arthur. I'm taking you to a doctor even if I have to hogtie you. Now let's go," She helped him onto the mare, then swung into the saddle after, "You stay here and see if there's something we can help with. Meet us at camp later." She glanced over her shoulder to Charles, who nodded.

"Be quick. I'll see what we can do."

Willa spurred the mare forward, digging her hooves into the road to get to Valentine quick. Dirt flew up behind them as they shot down the road toward the small livestock town. The road twisted and turned here and there, and Arthur continued arguing and coughing the whole time, but they made quick time. Soon, the smell of sheep could be caught on the breeze.

"We're almost there, Arthur. How you feeling?" She glanced back. He was wheezing badly and coughing when he caught his breath. None of this looked good, "Arthur?" She bumped him with her elbow. A long string of coughs made his grip loosen and he fell backwards.

Willa yelped and scrambled to catch him, but she missed every time and he landed in the mud with a sharp grunt.

"Shit, Arthur. We were almost there!" She jumped off the horse and struggled to get Arthur back up, but he was in and out of consciousness and no help at all. The mud and his limp body were all working against her, but she eventually managed to get his arm around her shoulders and hoisted him up that way. There were bystanders, but no one stepped forward to offer help. They were more curious than helpful.

Willa struggled her way to the doctors office, relieved when Arthur started to take his own steps and a bit of his own weight. By the time they stumbled through the door, they were both covered in mud and Willa's whole body hurt.

"Oh my. Get him in here... This doesn't look good." The doctor hurried to a back room, where Willa followed him.

"No, Charles... I'm fine." Arthur wheezed as Willa helped him into the chair.

"It's not Charles, you idiot," She sighed, wiping at her forehead, "How'd you get so sick so fast?"

The doctor began examining him, the grave look remaining on his face the whole time. Whatever was wrong with Arthur, it wasn't good at all. Eventually, the doctor got up and quickly washed his hands. Willa and Arthur exchanged an exhausted look.

"What is it?" She pried.

"It's, Uh... It's not good. I'm sorry." The doctor stumbled over his words, wiping his hands dry. Willa pushed herself off of the wall to stand beside Arthur.

"Just spit it out, will ya? What's wrong with me?" Arthur snapped. The doctor paused, then sighed.

"It's tuberculosis, son. You have tuberculosis."