“You’re gonna listen well, you hear me?” Arthur mumbled in what was obviously the quietest voice he could muster.

He was dragging your horse by the reins to the very entrance of camp. He wasn’t looking at you.

He dug through his satchel with a long, broken sigh. He pulled out a stack of money, placing it into your own hands. “You’re gonna head into Annesburg, and get a train o-or a stagecoach, and you’re gonna get the hell out ‘fore things get any worse.”