As she sold of her things, getting as much money as she can, she mounted up on Sunday and began riding back but stopped when she spotted a familiar set of red hair by the small station nearby.
She dismounted, took of her hat and stopped when she spotted Reverend Swanson. His luggage to the side of his feet, his fingers tapping against the binding of his Bible.
"Orville." 
The man jumped slightly upon hearing a voice, not expecting it to say his name either. He looked to his left, the European outlaw looking at him, not sure if it was disappointment or surprise on her face.
He stood, closing his Bible and placing it on the bench beside him and shuddered slightly as she took a step towards him. He saw how unhinged she was becoming, he just prayed that she wasn't going to offload on him too.
"Natasha." He greeted, his voice shaking.
Her boots clang against the wooden floor of the station as she approached him, her hands on her gun belt and she nodded towards the bench, telling him to sit. 
He did, slightly weary but she sat down beside him and hunched forward, deep in thought. 
"Where are you going to go?"
Her voice was surprisingly soft and calm, something he had missed hearing. She sounded rough and angry recently so it was nice to hear her back to her somewhat normal self.
"I don't know. Far and wide I pray." He replied, relaxing as he realised he was under no threat from her.
She nodded and look to her side to look at him, astonished to see him sober.
"You've cleaned up.... I'm proud."
Proud.
A words that not a lot of people would have said to describe Swanson.
".... Thank you, miss."
She only smiled at him as they both sat in silence until he spoke up.
"What are you going to do Miss Fiore?" 
What was she going to do?
She almost laughed at his question, not even sure that she knew what to do anymore.
She didn't respond as she didn't have the right thing to say.
"Do you feel bad? For leaving the women, little Jack?" She asked, it wasn't to guilt trip him, she was genuinely inquisitive as to what he had to say.
"I asked them to come with me but they wouldn't. I had to run. Dutch, he's-"
"Yeah, I know." She cut him off, knowing that he was going to say something about how different that man, that leader, had become.
"I just can't die for a bunch of nonsense spouted by a fool." He cursed, shaking his head at the situation they were all in. 
At his words, Natasha felt at ease knowing he was leaving for himself. Some would say it was selfish, some would say it was understandable. 
"You should leave... you and Mr Bell. Leave before it's too late. Do something! Please!" His voice slight raised as he pleaded for her to see sense and leave. To leave with the love of her life and not look back.
She turned her head to him, slowing, seeing the exasperated look on his face as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "You saw good in me.... When nobody else did. You stood, you sat and you listened to be spew garbage when I was intoxicated. You, you're the only one who understood me; who was nice to me."
Natasha chewed on her lower lip, his words genuinely meaning a lot to her. 
"You've changed but don't develop low honour because of what happened recently. Don't blame Lenny's death or Molly's death on yourself. Grow from it. Seize the chance you get to do good." He told her firmly, both of their heads looking up as the train began to arrive at the station. "Don't have bad blood on something you can change. A change for yourself. A new life."
The train whistled as it pulled to a stop, the conductor stepping off the side to wait for the passengers to board.
She stood, and picked up his bag and guided him over, holding at her arm. "I'll take your advice on board Reverend." She told him, a faint smile on her lips as he took his bag back, holding his Bible close to his heart as she looked at the changed man.
"Please do.... I'll miss..." He wasn't sure if she would appreciate him telling that he would miss her but she understood.
In the most delicate of touches, she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek and patted his shoulder. "I'll miss you too." 
-----------
Micah, Bill and John had returned back to camp. He had told her that morning that he was going to go and collect the dynamite. Arthur left when they arrived, leaving with John to attack the dynamite to the bridge before the train strikes tomorrow morning.
Natasha was in their shared tent, sharpening her knife, her cheeks slightly tear stained still when Micah stepped in, stopping when he saw her on the bed with her blade.
"Howdy." 
"Mm." It wasn't much of a response, she just didn't feel the need to talk at that particular moment.
Micah noticed her hostile exterior, furrowing his eyebrows and walks to stand in front of her, bending his knees to become eye-level with his darlin'. "You want to tell me what's the matter?" He pondered, his hand resting on her kneecap, drawing delicate circles above her black riding pants.
She looked up, his eyes shining with anticipation and something else, something she couldn't point out and shrugged. She could feel the lump rising back in her throat as she thought about Arthur. As she thought about the Indians that had died, because of Dutch, how everyone was acting... it was crazy.
"Arthur... he's..."
Micah already knew. It was clear to him. No man coughs like that, getting worse day by day only for him to get better. 
"It's going to be fine... one last job and we'll leave. If that's what you want that is?"
Natasha pursed her lips, placing down the block that she used to sharpen her knife, seething her weapon and clasped her hands together. "Why wouldn't it be what I want?" She asked, suspicious.
"Well... I've tried to make you leave with me but you seem to want to stay loyal to Dutch. A man that hates me."
"I want to stay loyal to the others that might not make it. I want to make sure they live."
"And how's that working out for ya? Lenny? Hosea? Arthur?" His words came out a lot colder than anticipated, a small rage bubbling up inside her at his words as if it was her fault and that the pair of them should've left ages ago.
"Don't be an ass, Micah." She scowled at him, pushing his hand away from his kneecap and turning her back to him slightly. "I- I want to leave with you, you know that but we need money."
Micah felt instantly bad, something that was rare for him to do but he hated seeing his woman suffer. "Alright... alright." He defused the tension, not necessarily apologising but admitting that he may be wrong.
"Well, when we hit this train tomorrow, do you want to leave?"
Natasha nodded. Surprising Micah at her quick answer. She had had enough. And she would admit it too.
"Yeah... we'll go."
Micah leaned forward and embraced Natasha, his lips colliding with hers in a heated passion as she kissed back, just as desperately. 
She listened to Swanson's advice. She listened to Arthur's advice.
One more day, then she's gone.

a/n well, not long left. Maybe two more chapters to go and then this book has come to an end. 70 odd chapters later.
What do you think is going to happen?