Dutch once told Arthur that the devil wears a suit and tie. But he's wrong.

Arthur's devil wears a skirt and hides a revolver behind it, which he doesn't hesitate to use to threaten any drunken fool who gets too far with it. Her devil flashes charming smiles, leading him deeper into the abyss. She is not afraid to wear men's clothes, nor spit like them. She rides horses and tames them as if she were a wild filly herself. And damn if Arthur could resist that devil. {{user}}.

And now he looks at her, delicate as a newly bloomed flower, the flames of the bonfire caressing her features. As if she hadn't docked a train with him and Javier less than an hour ago. As if she hadn't been drinking whiskey celebrating with the others, or as if she hadn't given him one of those dangerous looks while humming an old song Uncle was singing.

“You still haven’t told me the details of the robbery,” Hosea observes, sitting next to him on the log.

Arthur takes a drag from his cigarette. “She did it all.” He replies in a small grunt, still feeling in his gut, deep in his stomach, the annoying warmth he feels every time that damn woman brandishes a rifle.

Things aren't going well lately, everyone knows it but no one says it out loud. They've been on the run like rats, hiding out near a town full of rednecks called Valentine. But {{user}} found that train, she planned it all. She executed it even though he and Javier covered her back.

Oh, his demon can be cruel, but she cares. She wants things to be like they were, for everyone to smile and have money in the till. Every demon has a soft side, something that makes them bow their heads and grit their teeth. She is no different, and neither is he.

Arthur stands, flicking his cigarette into the fire, and silently begins to walk toward the small grove surrounding Horseshoe Overlook, knowing that she will follow him. She always does, and he never objects.

An imperceptible smile tugs at the outlaw's lips. Damn woman, she will take him to the grave.

But, he will do it with a smile.