Chapter Text
By 1899, the age of outlaws and gunslingers was at an end. America was becoming a land of laws. Even the west had mostly been tamed. A few gangs still roamed, but they were being hunted down and destroyed.
The wind was fierce. Blowing flakes upon flakes of harsh snow at the small caravan of wagons that trekked steadily onward through the mountains, the only sounds able to be heard above the whistling was the occasional strained snort of a horse, and the creak of the wagons being pulled.
Arabella Reid was bundled up on her horse as it followed next to the leading wagon, trying desperately to fend off frostbite. Her long, thick fleece lined coat was soaked with snow, the collar pulled up to her nose in an attempt to keep her face warm, the black beaten up hat on her head doing its best to keep her vision as clear as it could be. She also donned some flared black jeans with long beaver skin chaps pulled up over them that cover most of her legs and boots that were gently tapping on her horse’s sides in order to gently reassure the tired mare. Her long black hair is in a braid down her back, whispy bits that have fallen out and are sticking to the coldness of her freckled cheeks.
One of the men sat on the front of the leading wagon looks over and shouts something to me, but with the storm I catch just about nothing that he said.
I spur my horse closer to the wagon so I’m riding closer alongside of it. “What did you say, Hosea?” I shout over the storm, one hand on the reins, while the other is used to keep my hat from blowing clean off my head.
I can see the older man’s face more clearly now. He is wearing an olive-green long coat and a wide brimmed hat on his head, that did little to hide his soft and worried expression that donned his wrinkled face. He leans closer and speaks again to me.
“I asked if you’re holding up alright, my dear?” He questions, a clear expression of concern and fatherly care on his face.
I nod firmly, despite the shivers running down my spine that malice through my entire body. “I’m holding up as well as anyone, Hosea.” I assure him with a small smile that I’m almost certain looked more like a grimace.
Just then, another older man in snow covered clothes trudges through the deep snow towards the front of the wagon, holding up a lantern to provide some small illusion of light. “Abigail says he’s dyin’ Dutch. We’ll have to stop someplace.” He speaks to the man sat next to Hosea on the wagon, who was dressed in a long black fur coat, with a bowler type matching hat on his forehead that covered his slick dark hair.
Dutch nods solemnly, glancing away from the snow-covered path ahead to look at Reverend Swanston. “Okay. Arthur’s out looking, I sent him up ahead.”
At the reminder of Arthur’s temporary separation from the gang, I look into the fog up ahead in hopes of catching sight of the man I had come to call my brother over the last 12 years, after Dutch and Hosea took me in when I was just 7 years old, the two men and Arthur having found me when my house was raided and my parents had been shot dead in our living room, leaving their little girl all alone in the world.
The ‘gang’ back then if you could have even called it that, had just consisted of Dutch, Hosea, Arthur and John, so they all quickly became very protective the new little girl, and I was quickly accepted into this dysfunctional family, something that I will always be grateful for. I thought of Dutch and Hosea both like fathers, although Dutch in particular had always enamoured to me with his strong wills, confident plans and way of thinking. Everyone in the gang knows that he had a soft spot for me.
“If we don’t stop soon, we’ll all be dying.” Hosea’s worried tone snaps me from my daydream. “This weather. It’s May!” He glances at Dutch. “I’m just hoping the law got as lost as we did.” Blackwater. What a fuck up that was. Ever since I was 13, I have been going on jobs with the gang, and yet I’ve never seen a job go more wrong than this one. The reminder of it makes me sick to my stomach. We had come away with one dead member, one dying, and two had been captured. The reminder of Jenny’s cold body buried somewhere behind them on this godforsaken mountain made my heart clench.
“Do you want me to go and look for Arthur, Dutch?” I call out to the man, gently laying a hand on my mare’s brindled neck to soothe her as she chomps on the bit anxiously. “Go easy, Missy…” I gently soothe my beloved thoroughbred, Misty Day. Aptly named, as I found her roaming some plains about 6 years ago when it was a foggy and misty day out. After seeing her I immediately fell in love with her unique grey and black brindled coat, and so I made Arthur help me tame and train her. She’s been by my side ever since and has never let me down in a gunfight.
Dutch quickly shakes his head at my question. “No Bella, I don’t want you getting lost in this mess. Arthur will be fine.” He assures me firmly, and true to his words, a few seconds later a man on horseback is seen making his way towards the wagons with a lantern in hand. “There. Arthur! Any luck?”
I smile faintly as Arthur comes into my view and I squint my eyes to see him better. He’s wearing a long blue fleece lined coat, with his gambler hat sat low on his head, riding upon Charles’s dappled appaloosa, Taima, after his beloved mare Boadicea was shot from underneath him as we were escaping Blackwater, which Arthur was devastated about. He loved that horse more than he loved anyone.
Arthur’s voice shouts over the storm as he addresses Dutch, “Found a place where we can get some shelter. Let Davey rest while he… You know.” Arthur trails off slightly before speaking up again. “An old mining town, abandoned, it ain’t far. Come on.” He urges, spinning Taima to head in the direction of this mining town.
“Come on!” Dutch reiterates, louder so the wagon’s behind could hear us as he snaps the reins to push the horses into a slightly faster gait.
I gently click my tongue to urge Misty Day into a lopey canter until I’m riding by the side of Arthur. “You okay?” I question, a small hint of worry in my tone.
Arthur looks over at me and nods, holding up the lantern so we both can see where were going. “Will be, as soon as we can get everyone warm, how’s your arm, Bells?”
In the chaos of escaping Blackwater and the biting cold I had almost forgotten about the bullet graze on my arm which one of the Pinkertones had so kindly given me. “It’s fine, the bullet only grazed me, thank fuck.” I assure him, using my gloved hand to wipe my runny nose. Blasted snowstorm.
My brother nods again, his eyes flickering over my form as if checking to see if I was telling the truth. Not many get to see the softer side of Arthur Morgan, I think I’m some of the lucky few. “Come on, let’s push forward.” Arthur urges Taima further into the snow, retracing his steps with the trail of wagons behind us, until I finally catch sight of this old mining town he was talking about.
The buildings are old and deteriorating and don’t look able to hold that much heat, but I guess it will have to do for now. I catch sight of a few separate cabins, as well as a barn which will be great for making sure the horses don’t freeze to death along with us up here.
The wagons pull up into the mining town and everyone quickly starts to get off, bundled up in coats, gloves and scarfs as Hosea takes the lead, a lantern in hand as he opens the door to one of the larger cabins, revolver in hand, to check that no one is inside, before quickly holstering it and gesturing everyone inside. “Bring him in here!”
I quickly take Taima’s reins as Arthur moves over to help Bill carry inside the stretcher that Davey was laying on, hitching her up next to Misty Day for now, and feeding them both a quick sugar cube before hurrying inside the cabin with the rest of the gang, all of whom were covered in snow and shivering.
Dutch stands by the door, ushering everyone inside and I feel his soft hand on my back as I walk in and stand by the door, looking around the old cabin that had a few tables, counters and a fireplace which hadn’t looked to have been lit for years.
Miss Grimshaw wastes no time in barking orders at everyone. “Miss Gaskill, get that fire lit quick. Miss Jones, bring in whatever blankets we have. Mr Pearson, see what we’ve got going on in terms of food.”
I watch as Abigail, who was crouched by Davey’s side slowly stands up. “Davey’s dead.” She announces solemnly.
I furrow my eyebrows with my arms folded across my chest in an attempt to hold back tears. I loved Davey dearly. Him and his brother Mac were wild cards, and we had the most fun pulling off robberies together, none of us caring about the mess we left behind as long as the take was good. Now he’s gone, and Mac is either captured or has been shot. What a fucking mess.
“There was nothing more you could have done…” Swanston assures Abigail kindly, as Hosea places two buttons over Davey’s cold, dead eyes. I can barely bear to look at him.
Dutch, sensing my upset places his hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture as Hosea walks towards us to address him. “What are we gonna do? We need supplies.”
Dutch places his lantern on a nearby table and rubs his gloved hands together. “Well, first of all you’re gonna stay here and you are gonna get yourself warm. Now, I have sent John and Micah scouting out ahead. Arthur, Bells and I, we’re gonna ride out. See if we can find one of ‘em.”
I share a look with Arthur at the thought of us going back out into the snow, my frozen fingers already protesting at the thought. “In this?” I question with a slight frown, gesturing out of the open door.
“Just for a short bit.” Dutch assures me. “I don’t see what other choice we have…” He then turns to address the whole group as I huddle up closer to Arthur. “Listen… listen to me all of you, for a moment.” He waits until everyone’s attention is on him from their various points in the cabin. “Now we’ve had… well, a bad couple of days. I loved Davey… Jenny… Sean, Mac… they may be okay, we don’t know.” I grimace as he lists of all of the people that we’ve lost in the past 24 hours. “But we lost some folks. Now, if I could throw myself in the ground in their stead… I’d do it… gladly. But we’re gonna ride out… and we are gonna find some food. Everybody, we’re safe now. There ain’t nobody following us through a storm like this one… and by the time they get here… well we’re gonna be… we’re gonna be long gone.” I nod along with his words, trying to reassure myself. “We’ve been through worse than this before. Mr Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp. We may be here for a few days. Now all of you… all of you... get yourselves warm.” His voice becomes slightly louder. “Stay strong. Stay with me. We ain’t done yet!” He quickly grabs his lantern back up and makes for the door. “Come on you two.”
Arthur and I quickly follow after him and I say a small ‘thank you’ to Hosea after he hands me his lantern with a kind reassuring nod. As soon as the cabin door shuts and the cold hits me once again I immediately start to shiver and bury my face closer into my coat as the blizzard howls around us.
“Well.” Dutch addresses Arthur and I. “We ain’t run into them yet. So…they both must have headed down the hill.”
“Sure.” Arthur nods while rubbing his arms in an attempt to warm up. “Hey… I ain’t had time to ask. What really went down back there on that boat?”
“Bullets.” I answer him with a huff, not particular interested in recounting that story of unfortunate events to my brother.
“We missed you.” Dutch supplies, also not giving him much more information. “That’s what happened. Come on.” He gestures for us to follow him as we make our way towards Charles who was leading three horses towards us.
“Hey! You need horses?” He asks, handing us all our reins respectively, then nursing his burnt hand. Charles Smith was a difficult man to get a grasp on, although he has been kind to me since he joined us around 6 months ago, and we have gone hunting together a few times as he’s really good at tracking. He’s a man of few words but I sometimes don’t mind that.
“Oh yeah…” Dutch nods to him in thanks, swinging himself up onto The Count, his bitch of an albino Arabian who just about hates anyone else except him, as I recall from when I was 10 and he bucked me off into a tree. “And Mr Smith, get yourself indoors. You need to rest that hand.”
“I’ll live.” I hear Charles tell Dutch as Arthur and I both mount up, and I pet my mare’s neck gently.
“After this you can have a rest girl…” She snorts in response and dances around on the spot, clearly eager to get going.
“Get indoors son!” Dutch tells him more firmly. “I… we need you strong.”
“Okay…” Charles nods, walking away from us towards the cabin where everyone else was hold up.
Once Dutch is settled in the saddle, he starts to lead us out of Colter. “Alright you two, let's head out.”
Misty doesn’t need much encouragement to follow after The Count, Arthur beside me.
“Ain’t sure what we’re gonna find out here, Dutch.” Arthur warns him with a concerned tone in his voice. I get what he’s saying but we also have nearly 20 odd people to feed. Dutch seems to agree with my thoughts. “We have to try. Stay close, we’ll do our best to stick to the trail.”
I can barely see 20 feet in front of me as I push my hat further down my head and follow after Dutch, struggling a little to keep a hold of my horse with only one hand as she canters slowly in the snow with flared snorts. “Stop being silly…” I gently scold her as Arthur glances over to make sure I’m alright, knowing of my mares slightly wild tendencies. Dutch and Hosea often joke that she’s like her owner which is offensive if you ask me, and also a fault of their ‘parenting.’
“This goddam weather!” Arthur growls, the snowstorm not letting up in the slightest as we follow Dutch’s lead.
“Been two days or more like this now. Oh, it has to blow over soon.” He calls back. We ride for a little longer before he slows The Count into a slow trot. “Bridge coming up, take it easy.”
I swear loudly as Misty refuses to slow into a trot and canters across the slippery bridge sideways. “Oh, you stupid horse!” I curse again as her iron shoes slip slightly on the iced wood.
“You alright back there, Bells?” Dutch asks in a more concerned tone, glancing over his shoulder at me.
I huff. “Fine. Misty’s just tryin’ it on.” Once over the bridge I let her canter more freely behind The Count, so she isn’t going sideways as much.
I hear Dutch chuckle. “Always been wild that one, put your lantern on your saddle so you have both hands. Arthur and I can light the way.”
I do as he says and finally calm my mare into a more reasonable pace now, I have both hands free, sighing in relief as I can now also wipe my running nose. “Dutch can I ride up alongside you? She prefers being up-front.”
“Sure. Arthur, you ride up too. I can’t see you back there.”
Arthur and I both ride up, so we are alongside Dutch as we all push forward through the blizzard. “Personally, I hope we find John.” I joke truthfully, hearing Arthur snort from beside me, neither of us having much love for Micah Bell. Dutch doesn’t dignify us with a response but I’m almost 100% certain that if we weren’t in a snowstorm, I would be able to see him rolling his eyes.
“Can’t believe we lost Davey too.” Arthur speaks up again after a few minutes of silence and I shoot him a glare, warning him for bringing it up. I don’t need to think about this right now.
“He’s the last one, Arthur. No more.” Dutch tells him firmly. “We need to get those people warm and fed.”
Arthur nods. “Least we don’t have to worry about Pinkertons tailing us in this.”
“A couple more days, we’ll be on the other side. You need to help me pick the others back up. You two are the only ones I can rely on to stay strong right now.”
Dutch’s words bring a flicker of pride into my chest as they always do when he says something like this. No matter how many years I’ve been in the gang, his approval always makes me feel good about myself, as I never had encouraging words from my own father before Dutch found me. In all honestly, I was never that upset that he was shot. He had it coming after being horrible to my mother and I for as long as I can remember. I can also tell that Arthur swells in the pride.
“We got fire and shelter, that’s a start. And what about the money? Please tell me you at least got the money before it all went to hell on the boat?”
“Of course we got the money, Arthur.” I scoff teasingly.
“She’s right.” Dutch nods. “It’s stashed with the rest of the money in town. It’ll be safe for now… but we can’t go back there to collect it anytime soon- Hey, I think I see something up the path…” At his words I immediately dart my eyes to the figure coming towards us on a horse in the snow, holding a lantern, I squint to try and make out who it is. “Who’s there?!” I shout, pulling Misty to a halt.
The figure comes into view, and I can see the unmistakable sight of a black Missouri Fox-Trotter with a pure white face and bright blue eyes, his rider wearing a brown leather jacket and a wide brimmed hat over his long scraggly blonde hair.
“Micah.” Dutch announces with a small sigh of relief.
I don’t share the sentiment.
“Gentlemen.” Micah drawls his gruff, raspy voice, before catching sight of me and grinning. “M’lady.”
I scowl, not responding to him.
“Found anything?” Dutch asks as he rides closer to us.
“I think so. Found a little homestead down thataway.” He gestures up the hill behind him.
“Okay.” Dutch nods, looking pleased with his discovery. “Anyone home?”
Micah has his usual smug look on his ugly face. “Sure. Place is blazin’ with light and noise. Sounded like a party.”
“Let’s go see.” Dutch spurs The Count forward.
“Follow me.” Micah tells us, turning Baylock around to lead us towards this house. “How’s Davey doing?”
Before I can snap a response at his uncaring tone, Dutch beats me to it.
“Ah, he didn’t make it. Nor did little Jenny.”
“That’s too bad. Davey was a real fighter. Both of them Callander boys is…” Micah pauses slightly. “Or was.”
“Shut the fuck up, Micah.” I snap at him through the storm, gritting my teeth together.
“Calm down, hellcat.” Micah drawls, using the stupid nickname that he has for me, before addressing Dutch once again. “And Mac and Sean?”
“We don’t know.” Dutch admits, the wind picking up as we head further up the hill, making it hard for any of us to hear one another.
“Quite a business…”
“I’m glad you’re alright, Micah.” Dutch calls, the truth in his words astounding me. I love Dutch with all my heart, but I don’t see what he sees in that slimy little greaseball, to his credit though, he’s a damn good shot. As long as he doesn’t open his mouth.
“Ask him if he’s seen John!” I hear Arthur faintly yell from behind me, the wind whistling through my ears as more snot drips from my nose.
Dutch, somehow hearing him, reiterates the question to Micah up ahead. “Hey, have you seen John, Micah?”
I can’t hear Micah’s response due to Misty neighing underneath me.
“He hasn’t seen him!” Dutch calls back to Arthur and I a few seconds later, making me sigh. Great so we’re stuck with Micah.
“He’ll be fine! Things always turn out right for that boy.” My brother supplies, and I don’t miss the subtle dig in his words. Things were never the same between them since John left for a year after Jack was born, before that us three were inseparable.
“I hope Sean and Mac are still out somewhere too.” Dutch calls out, and I silently agree with his words. “Arthur, Bells, move up. I’ll take the rear.”
I can’t help but be very grateful for his offer due to Misty Day’s adverse for riding at the back, and so quickly move up behind Micah with Arthur beside me.
“You run into anybody else?” Arthur questions, once we are close enough to actually hear what Micah is saying.
Micah shakes his head, not looking back to answer. “I reckon we’re the only ones crazy enough to be out in this, Morgan.”
I scoff at his choice of words. “Don’t talk to us about crazy, Micah.”
“Oh, so no ‘glad to see you’re alright, I was worried, Micah?” He asks sarcastically, so I decide to tune him out and let Arthur deal with his rambling. I have enough to deal with.
For the rest of the ride, I’m deep in thought about everything that’s happened over these past few days. The Ferry. Blackwater. Colter. It all happened so fast. I was there when Dutch shot that girl on the boat, it was Micah who egged him on to do it with that sickening voice of persuasion that Dutch is somehow drawn to. But I could also see the regret and shock on his face after he did it and the guilt when he looked at me as this woman didn’t look to be much older. Jobs go wrong. Things happen.
Micah’s voice snaps me from my thoughts as we approach the brow of a hill that overlooks a small ranch type settlement, and true to his words the lights are on from the main house, and I can hear voices from all the way up here.
“Okay let’s keep it down, gentlemen… and lady. It’s just up ahead.”
I roll my eyes as he singles me out on purpose.
We ride down the hill into the homestead, hitching up our horses behind some trees a bit away from the house.
“Snuff and stash those lanterns, boys. Best you two lie low on this.” He gestures to Arthur and Micah as we all put out our lanterns and follow him towards the house where the sound of men laughing and talking is heard. “Bells, with me. We don’t wanna spook these fine people.” I nod at his words, quickly checking both of my revolvers to make sure they’re fully loaded just in case before slipping them back into the holsters at my hips. They are the same revolvers Dutch and Hosea had gotten me for my 12th birthday, with pears decorating them and beautiful engravements on the side, the gun belt was also a gift from Arthur and John, and it has a matching pattern to my revolvers, with silver studs decorating the dark leather.
We trek through the thick snow towards the large cabin, with me having much more difficulty than the men due to the height difference, so I do my best to follow the path that Arthur is making, dragging his feet more to make it easier for me.
“You two get yourselves out of sight…” Dutch looks between Arthur and Micah. “One lonely man and his daughter is a lot less intimidating than three nasty looking degenerates.” I move to stand beside Dutch as he directs Micah and Arthur to hide behind a wagon and inside a shed, respectively, before he wraps an arm around me and leads us towards the front door. “Just play the part of the cold, frightened little girl, my dear.”
“The cold part isn’t much of a stretch…” I mumble, still shivering despite being close to Dutch’s side and getting some of his body heat from the warm fur coat.
He chuckles at my response before calling out towards the cabin, still standing a bit away from the door. “Hello?”. Suddenly all of the music and voices inside pause and frantic whispering is heard until a man rips the door open with two others behind him. “Oh, well hello friend.” Dutch greets them in a joyful tone.
“What do you want?” One of the men sneers at Dutch, before his gaze lands up and down on me and his frown turns into a sickening smile.
I resist the urge to shoot him in the face.
“I am very sorry to disturb you.” Dutch continues, his arm wrapped tighter around me after catching onto the man’s gaze. “Uh, my daughter and I, well we got into some trouble up the way. Lost in the storm- ah gentlemen…” He greets after seeing more men appear, all armed.
“We can’t help you mister.” He snaps, before immediately returning his gaze to me. “However, we could help this lovely lady here. We’d take real good care of her…” His expression morphs into a grin as he practically drools at the mouth as my hands flick to my revolver, but Dutch quickly puts his hand over mine to stop me.
“Now… friend call me… crass but I care very much for my daughter so I hope you can understand why I wouldn’t let her go inside with a bunch of strangers.” He tells him, a more obvious hint of disgust in his tone.
He grins. “Well, ain’t that too bad… In that case, I think you should go now, buddy.”
I allow my eyes to move around and notice more men emerging from the side of the house, partially hidden from sight. No doubt there’s some in the windows too. Nice little homestead my ass, Micah. I pull my hat further down on my head.
A blonde man holding a bottle suddenly pushes past his friend, his eyes widening at the sight of Dutch. “Hey… I don’t believe it. Come here, partner! That’s godddam Dutch Van Der Linde! Oh, Colm’s is gonna flip!”
Before I even get a chance to unholster my revolver, both men are shot clean through the head, crumpling onto the wooden porch beneath us, their blood seeping into the white snow.
“Thank fuck for that.” I snort, unholstering both my weapons as Dutch tugs me with him to take cover behind some barrels so we can help Arthur and Micah take out the O’Driscoll’s.
I let the familiar white haze take over me as I slow my breathing and line up my shots, quickly taking down another two men who had run from the homestead, with bullets planted square in the middle of their faces.
The gunfight continues for a few minutes before the shots subside, and a handful of bodies are left littering the snow.
“One of them is making a run for it, Arthur!” Micah warns, nodding behind the house, where a lone O’Driscoll was running for his life.
Never backing down on a chance to one up my older brother, I fire off two shots, both hitting their marks. One in the legs. One straight through his back, making him collapse. “Pathetic.” I scoff, holstering my weapons and wiping my runny nose on the sleeve of my coat.
“Show off.” Arthur grumbles good naturedly, bumping into my shoulder as he walks over to Dutch and I.
“That’s my girl!” Dutch hollers, coming up behind me and patting my back, with a proud tone in his voice. “Good shooting, Hell Bell.”
I can’t help but glower at the praise and his fond nickname, unlike the version that Micah has taken to use. Only people I like get to call me that. Dutch always uses it after I’ve done well at a job, his reasoning being that I’m fierce with a gun and strong in a fight. But I’m certain he’s prouder of himself for teaching me everything I owe.
“Goddam O’Driscoll’s boys here. Why?” Dutch asks no one in particular, but I can’t help sharing the same question. Why would Colm O’Driscoll be this far north? I hope we run into that ugly son-of-a-bitch so I can plant a bullet in his skull through. The O'Driscoll's have been nothing but a pain in our ass's for years.
Micah shrugs, panting slightly after the adrenaline rush. “I don’t know. Maybe same reason as us?”
“And here I was thinking they were here to make snow angels.” I quip sarcastically, and I see him immediately move to retort back before Dutch interrupts the impending argument.
“Enough. Micah, go bring the horses closer to the house. Arthur, Bella, let’s go search the cabin.”
I make sure to give Micah the middle finger behind his back for good measure, before Arthur shoves me towards the house with a low, amused chuckle.
The warmth inside feels like it could be heaven, the small log burner having kept the place well heated. There are empty bottles of alcohol scattered over every surface, some on the floor, with the definite smell of booze and cigarette smoke lingering in the air, along with that distinct pong of man sweat.
“Definitely smells like a party in here.” Arthur rubs his hands together after closing the door to keep in the heat.
Dutch nods in agreement with a sigh, glancing around the homestead. “Turn the place upside down, grab as many supplies as you can. We need the essentials: food, medicine… whiskey.”
Arthur and I immediately get set on raiding the small kitchen area. I grab cans of anything I can find, shoving them into my satchel, along with some half open health cures.
“I’m starving.” Arthur complains with a sigh, already working on tearing off the lid from a can of beans.
“You two should eat something now. Get your strength up for the ride back.” Dutch suggests, throwing me a slightly battered can of pears.
I catch it with one hand and inspect the label. “No cherries?” I question with a slight pout to my expression, only half joking.
“No cherries.” He confirms, shoving some bourbon into his satchel. “Eat. I don’t like the look of that cold.”
“Don’t have a cold.” I immediately defend, using my pocketknife to open the can of pears, loudly slurping at the juice as it dribbles from the container, stopping once I see Dutch give me a look of disapproval. “Sorry…” Sometimes I forget when Dutch gives me that look that I’m not a child anymore. I’m a full-grown woman and yet that stare would pause me doing nearly anything.
I lean against the table near the fire as I eat my pears with more attempted delicacy, which is quite hard to do when using frozen fingers, but I manage. I sneeze into my arm, mumbling thanks as Dutch and Arthur both say, ‘bless you,’ before noticing a picture in an oval frame on the mantel piece above the fire.
After discarding my empty can on the floor and licking my fingers clean, I walk over and pick the photograph up to inspect it. It shows a man and a woman on what looks to be their wedding day. The man has a kind expression on his face, and the woman standing next to him looks beautiful. They must have been the previous occupants of this homestead before the O’Driscoll’s did God knows what to the poor bastards.
“Arabella. If we can’t eat it or drink it, put it down.”
I jump slightly and turn to see Dutch eying me with a pointed expression on his face as he eyes the frame in my hands, folding up a blanket to take with us.
Arthur shuffles over to glance at the photograph that I had just set back down. “Big ol’ pool of blood on the floor over there. Probably belonged to them two.” He nods at the photograph. “Micah found a dead body in the wagon outside.”
“Wasn’t exactly a welcome party then.” I huff, looking at the image one last time before moving away to look for more supplies, rubbing my head which is beginning to form an ache. Shit, maybe I am sick.
“O’Driscoll’s! I don’t believe it.” Dutch exclaims exasperatedly from the opposite side of the room.
Just to be annoying, Arthur bumps my hat further down on my face before replying, not sparing a glance at me to see my glare. “It’s a strange one alright. Maybe they’re hiding up here too? There’s a big price on Colm O’Driscoll’s head… nearly as big as the one on yours.” He looks over at Dutch, who scoffs in response.
“Wanting Colm dead is about the only thing that me and Uncle Sam agree on.”
After opening the last cupboard and finding only scraps that are of no use, I admit defeat and sit on one of the chairs to wait for Arthur and Dutch to finish up, wiping my nose on my sleeve again, having no idea where my handkerchief went in the chaos of Blackwater. I’m sure Hosea will lend me one when we get back to Colter, he always has about five on his person at all times.
“Place is warm and dry.” Arthur comments, looking around the small homestead. “We could maybe move the women and Jack down here.”
I hum in agreement, knowing the term ‘women’ doesn’t include me. It would make sense to move some folks here, defiantly seems warmer than those drafty cabins in Colter.
“Maybe. We’ll see how they are when we get back. I don’t really want us to split up.” Dutch grabs his satchel up from the table. “I’m going to start packing the horses. You two keep looking- get up Bells, you haven’t checked everywhere yet. Grab anything you think we can use, then meet me out there.” He opens the cabin door, letting in a burst of cold air and snow from the everlasting blizzard, before disappearing outside.
I sigh and with a grunt of discomfort stand up to help Arthur.
“You holdin’ up, Bells?” Arthur asks in a softer tone, pausing in his rummaging through a kitchen cabinet.
“Yup.” I pop the P, moving over to help him. “Just tired and cold like everyone else.”
Arthur nods in agreement, handing me a packet of crackers to stash. “When we get back to Colter, I’ll make sure that everyone lets you sleep for a good few hours, kiddo.”
“Much appreciated.” I smile, shoving the crackers into my leather satchel and quickly checking to make sure the bandages on my arm don’t look any worse after that gunfight. Thankfully nothing has bled through, so at least I can rule out sepsis on top of this stupid runny nose and pounding headache.
After checking the whole house and finding nothing else, we reluctantly walk back out into the blizzard and head over to where Dutch was putting things into the horse’s saddle bags. I immediately scowl after seeing Misty stood so close to Baylock as they occasionally toss their heads up and down. “Traitor…”
I move to shove my own supplies into my saddle bags as Dutch instructs Micah to head back into the homestead and sends Arthur to check out the barn.
I struggle with the straps on my saddle bag, getting frustrated as my shaking fingers make it near impossible to do up the straps. “Stupid fucking things…” I curse under my breath.
Thankfully, seeing my struggle, Dutch comes over to help, quickly securing my goods inside the bag slung on Misty’s rump.
“Thank you.” I nod, before sneezing again into my sleeve.
Dutch frowns in concern, lightly reaching out to place a hand on my cheek. “You feel warm…”
I shrug his hand away, not wanting to let my guard down until we get back. “M’fine. Just tired.”
He fixes me with one of his pointed looks, but this time it’s full of concern instead of scolding. “Sick. Not tired. When we get back, you’re resting.”
I nod, grateful for his assurances as I wipe my eyes, not knowing if it’s from the cold or the pent-up emotions of everything that has happened in the past few days.
Dutch looks at me, almost as if reading straight into my brain. “I know you were close with Davey..."
“Yeah…” I breathe out, not really wanting to think about Davey and the other’s we have lost right now, in fear of breaking down in front of this random homestead, surrounded by dead O’Driscoll’s. Not to mention, Micah is only a few feet away in the house.
Dutch wisely doesn’t pry, he just opens his arms invitingly, and I don’t hesitate to relish in the brief physical comfort from my father figure. His coat is wet with snow, but warm and soft as I bury my face in his chest, biting my lip to keep my emotions in check. “I’m gonna fucking kill them…” I seethe quietly, my voice muffled by Dutch’s coat.
I know that Dutch agrees with my words when I feel a soft kiss press to the top of my head before he pulls away. “And I surely will let you, m'dear. But for now, we need to focus on getting everyone back on their feet, and finding out what Colm O’Driscoll is doing nosing around.”
My response is cut off when we hear noises coming from the barn. Dutch and I glance at one another before quickly making our way over to see what Arthur is dealing with, both pulling out our revolvers just in case.
As we approach the open barn doors, we can see Arthur fighting the only surviving O’Driscoll, both throwing punches at one another as a horse whinnies in distress behind the brawl.
“What’s going on?” Dutch questions, a hint of humour in his tone.
Arthur grunts, throwing another punch at the man. “This guy just jumped me!”
I watch in amusement as Arthur and the O’Driscoll tumble around the barn. “At least put some effort in, Arthur.” I joke, wiping any remaining tear tracks from my cheeks that I accidentally let fall, pushing my emotions down to deal with later.
Eventually Arthur gets the man on the floor, holding him there with his fist raised. “Sneaky little bastard… should I kill him?” He directs the last part of his sentence towards Dutch, standing beside me, lantern and gun still in hand.
“No… Not yet… Find out what they’re doin’ here, and where Colm is.” He instructs, and we watch as Arthur beats the information out of the man, telling us that Colm’s hold up at an old mining camp in order to rob some train, before harshly letting him go.
I spit at the floor as he hastily runs past Dutch and I, practically tripping over his own feet. “Should’ve finished him off.”
Arthur shrugs, retrieving his hat and revolver from the ground. “He ain’t gon’ make it that far in this storm anyways.”
“That looks like a decent horse.” Dutch nods towards the spooked piebald in the stable behind Arthur, before turning to walk back towards the homestead. “You should keep him.”
I stay and watch as Arthur gently calms the horse before leading him out of the barn, still muttering soft re-assurances. “You always was good with horses.” I stroke the gelding’s neck gently as we trek through the snow. “You gonna keep him? He ain’t no Boadicea but…” I trail off, not wanting to remind Arthur too much of his lost horse.
Arthur shrugs, hitching the horse up next to The Count. “Maybe, I’ll see how we get on.” He feeds the piebald a sugar cube from his pocket, making him nicker quietly.
A terrified woman’s scream suddenly comes from the cabin, making Arthur and I jump.
“Get away from me!!”
“Micah, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Dutch scolds, running into the cabin, Arthur and I hot on his heels. We burst into the cabin and see the blonde woman from the photograph I found earlier, running around the table, only in her nightgown, holding a knife as Micah grins and chases her around, dodging the random objects being thrown at him.
“Look what I found in the cellar!” He smirks, clearly enjoying this in some sort of sick way. “Wild thing ain’t ya!”
“Micah, leave her alone, you fucking creep!” I try and run to the woman, but Micah cuts me off to chase her around again as she shrieks in fear and anger.
“I wasn’t doing nothin’; she’s one of them O’Driscoll’s!” He leers.
“No, she ain’t Micah, look at her!” Dutch protests, gesturing to the scared woman with his arms in a placating gesture.
She continues to shriek and wield her knife around, knocking over more furniture as she does so with Micah in fast pursuit, knocking over a table, the lantern shattering onto the floor, which quickly catches on fire.
“Oh, you fool, Micah!!” Dutch, scolds again, shoving him out of the way, allowing me to approach her carefully.
“Miss? Miss? It’s okay I swear. We ain’t gonna hurt you. We ain’t them. They don’t let women run with em’.” I try to reassure the scared woman, as she lets me grab her hand and drops the knife onto the floor of the cabin, which is quickly catching on fire, suddenly making everything very warm and I feel myself start to sweat under my thick coat.
“Come on, we need to get you out of here, and quick.” Dutch urges, quickly helping me lead the scared woman out of the homestead, which is already up in flames.
Poor woman… lost her husband and her house. She looks about the same age as Arthur, so a bit older than me, but I can sympathise with losing everything you know and the fear when you meet random strangers. There's a lot of bad people in this world, she's lucky we found her.
“Are you okay, miss?” I ask, as Dutch wraps a blanket around her.
She shakes her head with tears streaming down her face. “They came three days ago… and my husband, they…” She trails off, her voice trembling as Dutch and I lead her over to the horses. I make sure to fix Micah with a pointed glare for traumatising her more than she already was. What a vile person.
“Okay, miss. You are safe now… and you can’t stay here.” He glances back at her flickering homestead with a note of guilt. “You come with us. Arthur.”
I move out of the way to let Arthur help her up onto the back of The Count as he reassures her again that she’s safe now, and that she can stay with us until she figures out what she wants to do.
I give Misty Day a small pat before mounting up and giving the woman a comforting smile as she grips onto Dutch, shaking and trembling, from fear and the cold snow that whips around us.
“What’s your name, miss? Miss?” Dutch asks her gently as he leads the way back onto the main path towards Colter, the homestead crashing down behind us.
“Adler…” The blonde woman mumbles tearfully in a raspy voice.
“Adler?”
“Sadie Adler.” She finishes. “Mrs… I he… he was my husband.”