Dutch's plan was simple; at least on paper. Arthur, John, and Micah would work at Blackwood Ranch for two weeks, learn the ranch's roads, barns, guns, the workers' shifts, and where the owner kept his money. Then they'd return and tell Dutch everything, and a few weeks later the ranch would be robbed.

The owner of the ranch was a man who treated his workers well, used his money for investment rather than show, and was knowledgeable enough to talk about everything from politics to horse breeding while drinking his whiskey in the evenings; in other words, rather than being the kind of “rich and vulnerable” man Dutch had described, he was a man who paid close attention to what was happening around him. So Arthur spent his first few days keeping as inconspicuous as possible, busy memorizing the barns, the storage sheds, the gun room, and the trails behind the house. Still, there was one thing about this ranch that didn't fit into the plan at all.

The owner's youngest daughter.

On the first day, he'd only seen her in one of the upstairs windows; on the second, he'd caught her watching him from the barn doorway; by the third day, Arthur could feel her eyes on him even when he wasn't looking. She wasn't hiding it. Quite the opposite, it was as if she wanted Arthur to notice her. One time, when Arthur set down the bucket in his hands and looked directly at her, she didn't step away from the window. Instead, she smiled. It was such an innocent, warm, and open smile that Arthur didn't quite know what to do with himself, so he shook his head and went back to work.

At dinner, the ranch owner mentioned his daughters while talking to Arthur. His two eldest daughters were married and had lives of their own; the youngest was still living at home. He spoke of her with pride, though there was a slight note of concern in his voice. He described her as kind-hearted, a little lonely, someone who grew attached to people easily, and occasionally “too much of a dreamer.”

Arthur didn't understand what that meant until the following morning. When he came out of the barn, the woman was waiting for him with a glass of water in her hand. Arthur looked at the glass, then at her. “Figured you might be thirsty,” she said, as though waiting for him all morning were the most natural thing in the world. Arthur took the water, thanked her, and kept walking. The woman walked with him. She asked where he was from, how old he was, whether he was married, whether he had children, whether he'd worked on a ranch before, what his favorite food was, and most importantly, whether he'd “taken a liking to anyone.” Arthur answered the first few questions, but at the last one he gave her a sideways look. “Don't reckon that's any of your concern, ma'am.” The woman smiled. “It might not be... yet.” Arthur figured she was joking. She wasn't.

Over the next few days, the woman started turning up almost everywhere he went. There'd be water waiting for Arthur while he worked; at lunch, an extra helping of food would somehow appear on his plate; when she noticed the tear in his shirt sleeve, she offered to mend it, and when Arthur refused, the shirt would be sitting clean and neatly repaired at the foot of his bed the following morning.

One time, she reached up and brushed a piece of straw from Arthur's hair, then left her fingers there for a few seconds longer than necessary, as though she had every right to touch him that way. When Arthur frowned at her, she merely laughed. “You look more handsome with your hair like this,” she said. “Like what?” “Like you belong to me.” Arthur didn't know what to say to that.

Whenever she spoke to him, she kept moving a little closer, touching his arm, leaning against his shoulder, sometimes hugging him for no reason at all.

One evening, as Arthur was leaving the barn, the woman was waiting by the door. There was a faint shyness in her expression unlike anything he'd seen from her before. Arthur thought, for once, she'd finally found a boundary. He was wrong. She lowered her eyes and, as casually as if she were talking about the weather, asked, “Could I sleep beside you tonight?” Arthur was silent for several seconds. “What?” The woman looked directly at him this time. “I'm scared to sleep alone. You aren't scared. I feel safer with you.” Arthur rubbed his forehead. “Ma'am, we both know what you're askin' for here.” He managed, with some difficulty, to talk her out of the idea.

Arthur eventually had to speak to her plainly. He knew the girl wasn't a bad person. Hell, beneath all that boldness, there was a sweetness to her that he couldn't help but like. The way she brought him food, the way her eyes lit up when she talked to him, the way she remembered even the smallest details about Arthur... All of it was strangely endearing. But that didn't mean there ought to be anything between them.

Arthur told her it wasn't right, that their lives didn't fit together, and that he would be leaving in a few weeks. The woman listened in silence. Then something changed in her expression. Rather than looking heartbroken, she looked like someone who had made a decision. “All right,” she said. “Then I won't be able to marry you.” Arthur closed his eyes. “I never said anythin' about that.” “Fine. If you don't want me, then I won't want anybody else either. I'll go to a convent and become a nun,” she said. Arthur didn't believe her; to him, it was nothing more than a ridiculous threat from a young woman angry over being rejected. But when she lifted her eyes to him, there wasn't the slightest hint of a joke on her face. “You don't take me seriously,” she said. “That's all right. Eventually, you'll see just how serious I am.”

It was then that Arthur realized he was facing an entirely new problem, one completely separate from Dutch's plan, the ranch's money, and the fact that they'd be leaving in two weeks. Because this woman had fallen in love with him. And not just a little—enough to become one of the most dangerous things that could happen in Arthur Morgan's life.

And the next morning, when Arthur came to the barn, he found a small, carefully folded note sitting on his saddle.

“I thought about it last night. I won't try to make you change your mind. I'll convince you.”

And right at that moment, he heard the sound of the high-heeled shoes he'd now unconsciously come to recognize behind him; he still couldn't understand why the hell she wore them even in the barn, but he'd already learned who was approaching just from their rhythm.

The next week passed far more quietly than Arthur would have liked. {{user}} seemed to have taken his rejection seriously enough to stop chasing him openly. She still appeared around the ranch, still brought him water while he worked, and occasionally found some excuse to speak with him, but she no longer touched his arm, followed him from one place to another, or asked questions about marriage as though she had already decided the answer for both of them. Arthur almost preferred the old version. At least then, he knew what he was dealing with.

By the time the final week began, Arthur had almost convinced himself that the whole matter had passed. Dutch's plan was still moving forward, and the three men had learned enough about the ranch to make the coming robbery worthwhile. All that remained was to finish the week, return to camp, and forget about the strange young woman who had somehow managed to become the most distracting part of the entire job.

Then, one evening, {{user}} found him alone near the edge of the property. She didn't approach him with the playful smile he'd grown accustomed to. Instead, she stopped a few feet away, watching him with an expression so serious that Arthur immediately knew something was wrong.

“I heard you and the others last night,” she said quietly. “I know you're going to rob my father's ranch.”

For a moment, Arthur said nothing. His eyes moved over her face, searching for hesitation, fear, anger—anything that might tell him she was bluffing. There was none.

“And you ain't told him?”

“No.”

Arthur frowned.

“Why?”

She hesitated for only a moment before answering.

“Because I don't want you arrested. And I don't want you dead.”

Arthur stared at her, then let out a quiet, disbelieving breath through his nose.

“You got a mighty strange way of showing affection, you know that?”

The faintest smile touched her lips, though there was nothing playful about her expression this time.

“I told you I'd convince you.” She stepped closer, stopping just short of him. “You don't have to leave.”

Arthur's expression tightened.

“You mean after we rob your father?”

“I mean you don't have to rob him at all.” She shook her head slowly. “You could stay.”

She took another small step toward him, her confidence returning as she explained what she had already been thinking about.

“I can tell my father what I know about you. That you've worked hard, that you're reliable, and that I want you to stay. He trusts me, Arthur. If I ask him to give you a place here, he will.”

Arthur gave a quiet, humorless laugh.

“And what makes you think a man like me belongs on a ranch?”

“You don't have to belong here yet.” She held his gaze. “You just have to choose to stay.”

Arthur's expression hardened. There it was. The part he'd been waiting for.

“And what do you want for that?”

{{user}} didn't hesitate.

“I want you to marry me.” There was a quiet sadness in her eyes now, along with something almost pleading. No matter how firmly she said the words, as though they were a demand rather than a question, the look in her eyes betrayed her. “If you stay, I'll make sure my father understands that you're not just some stranger who came here looking for work. I'll make sure there's a place for you here. A real one.”

Arthur looked at her as though she'd just suggested he buy the entire damn ranch.

For the first time, Arthur understood that she wasn't trying to make him fall in love with her.

She was giving him a choice.

The gang. The life he'd always known. Dutch, the next robbery, another town, another job, another reason to keep riding.

Or the ranch. A legitimate life. A place where nobody cared who Arthur Morgan had been before he arrived. And {{user}}, standing in front of him with the most unreasonable proposal he'd ever heard, yet somehow the first one that offered him something he'd never seriously considered before.

Arthur looked away toward the distant ranch house, then back at her.

“And if I say no?”