Chapter 1

"This is a damn cluster fuck, Arthur !"

"You're tellin' me !"

They were completely surrounded by O'Driscolls, Colm's voice was all over Dutch and for once, he didn't have an exit plan. The leader of the the opposite gang was not here to talk, they were done with that, today they had come to put an end to the feud. Permanently.

From the Van der Linde gang Bill Williamson was there, as always, Hosea, Sadie and Arthur. The others were at camp, or on another job. This one was supposed to be an easy one, but turned out it was a trap. It seemed that a lot of 'easy' jobs went bonkers lately. It was not the first time the O'Driscolls screwed them over. At some point, Dutch had started to wonder if Colm was really that good or if they had just grown lazy. O'Driscoll had been on their trail for weeks, following them since Colter and Horseshoe.

Bullets were flying over Dutch's head, one ending up right in his hat, making it fall to the ground. He was only physically present at this point. He looked at Hosea, who was fighting like a lion. Everyone was but it was not enough. Was this really the end for them ?

The gang leader looked both ways, trying to find something that could had least serve as distraction and give them time to fall back. One thing was sure, today was not the day he was gonna get rid of Colm O' fucking Driscoll. The reversed possibility though, was much more realistic at this point. Dutch didn't even have any dynamite left to throw, and bullets were starting to miss seriously.

"Hosea ! Any last ideas, old friend ?" He screamed to his long time partner who was barely hidden behind a barrel

"I'm afraid not ! Sorry, Dutch"

The latter cursed under his breath. The only thing he could think about now was all the opportunities he had had to kill Colm. He should have put an end to this a long, long time ago. Unfortunately it was too late to regret.

Suddenly Colm's laughs turned into cries of fear, making Arthur and the others look at each other dumbfoundedly.

"Everybody watch out for the galtin' !" O'Driscoll yelled in horror. And then the thundering sound of raining bullets was the only sound that could be heard. The first wave stopped after what felt like hours, at least for Colm's boys.

"What is going on out there ?" Hosea whispered towards Dutch who shrugged, "can anybody see ?"

"Have you had enough you bunch of dixie-whistling hillbillies, or d'you want some more ?!" A strong female voice shouted in the distance.

Instantly they both knew, and boy, were they happy to hear that voice. Dutch, sensing that it was safe enough, rose a little from his hiding spot, glancing towards where the voice was coming. When he saw her face, he couldn't help but smile and thank God for that miracle. Without any warning, the young woman engaged a second in a second wave, destroying every piece of wood, skin and bones that was showing. It didn't take long for the remaining O'Driscolls, including that damn Colm to run for their lives and disappear with their horses in the woods.

Arthur helped Hosea up and laughed at Bill who was breathing hard on the ground, not even bothering to try and get up. He had seen too much for the day, hell, for the week.

Dutch holstered his guns and walked towards the chariot carrying the heavy gun. He helped the woman off of it, hands on her waist, knowing that she could have managed just fine on her own. They studied each other for a brief moment, both coming to the conclusion that they hadn't changed. After all, it had only been a little more than a year since they last saw each other. It was good to reunite.

"Well, well, if that ain't the incorrigible Miss Margaret Burns !" Dutch said enthusiastically, pulling her in a warm embrace that she returned.

"It's good to see you all" Margaret said, hugging Arthur and Hosea. The latter introduced her to Sadie, a fierce looking blond woman. Margaret observed her a little and decided she liked her already. Finally she acknowledged Bill's presence on the ground.

"Mr. Williamson ! I actually missed you"

"Very funny !" He grunted, "we was startin' to wonder where you was. What took you so long ?" She shrugged with a large large smile and helped him up, almost falling forward in the process. Bill must have had a little too much stew lately, she thought.

"How d'you find us ?" Dutch called from behind while he swept away the mud on his clothes

"Tumbled on one of Colm's men near Valentine, the fool talked too much for his own good. Gave the plan away while boasting. He's now dead and…not buried." Dutch smiled at that, a good O'Driscoll was a dead O'Driscoll.

The little group didn't linger long in those parts, they gathered their stuff, called for their horses and headed back to Clemens Point. The last time Margaret was with the gang, they had a camp near Strawberry, in the mountains; She liked it there but was aware that Dutch moved around a lot, for the safety of the gang. She knew that eventually, she would find them not too far from here, and there she was, thanks to an O'Driscoll. Small towns were the best place to look for informations, there was always someone who knew something about someone and would spill its secrets with the right motivation.

Margaret rode alongside Hosea, she liked it when he told stories and he had always managed to make her laugh. Of course he was a good talker and she was never sure if everything he said was accurate but she couldn't care less. It was Hosea who had found her, over a decade ago. She was stealing from clients in a saloon somewhere near Annesburg. Nobody had noticed, except for Hosea of course. He had come for the same thing and this curious woman had caught is eye. He had managed to find her in the street later and they talked a lot. When he talked to her about a gang, it was hard for her to hide her excitement. Not many women were accepted in gangs, and if they were, it was more to please the gang members than anything else. After a few months of riding with them, Margaret realised that she needed some time on her own from time to time and made a deal with Dutch. Despite the fact that he liked her around, he had understood. He knew that she would do her share whenever she decided to come back. And so she lived with them like this since then, and it worked perfectly well for everybody.

Finally, the camp was in sight, it was nice, with the Flat Iron Lake as a view. It took Margaret some time to salute everyone but she wanted to. She couldn't believe how Jack had grown, having left when Abigail had given birth to him and John had gone away. The latter had changed, at least she thought so. It was about time he took his responsibilities with his family, it had been hard for Abigail recently from what she had heard.

As the sun started to go down, Dutch called for her from his tent. It was clear on his face that he was thrilled to have her back, it was a long story between the two of them. They had seen it all, saved each other countless times, robbed, laughed and cried. Margaret was special to him and she knew it. So when he asked her if he should tell everyone to celebrate for her return, she felt a slight discomfort in her belly. No, she was not going to stay long this time, even less than usual. She stayed vague on her answered, pretending not to know. If everything went right, she would be gone in no more than two days. Dutch bid her goodnight and Margaret invested the cozy space Miss Grimshaw had arranged for her.

The morning after

"Where have you been ?" Arthur said, a cup of coffee in his hand and looking still tired. She thought he looked funny in his orange one piece pyjamas.

"To Strawberry, fine little place, I'm sure you'd agree. And with nice baths at that" Margaret said, taking a vigorous bite from the juicy apple she was holding. Her last meals hadn't been…the best ones if she was quite honest. It felt good to finally have something fresh and good to eat.

"So, what have you been doin' lately ? Appart from shootin' folks with goddamn gatlin' guns I mean" They both laughed at that. She had always been down for theatrical entrances, but the bar had been raised to another level yesterday.

"Well, nothin' too fancy, I guess. Keeping bounty hunters busy. Been huntin'myself, I can't say I have time for much lately" she said in a quiet voice. Arthur frowned

"What do you mean ?"

"It's my brother, William, I- I think he's in trouble. Real trouble this time.

"Mmmh, I see. Can we help ?"

"Oh, certainly not !" She almost shouted at him, "He brought this on himself, that damn fool. Pickin' on bigger guys than him, every. single. time. No, I can't involve the lot of you in this, it's family business. Well, I mean he really is starting to piss me off with all this nonsense, he's a stupid boy, but he's my brother, it's my job to keep him safe." Arthur nodded at that, he liked the determination in that girl's eyes.

"Do you have any leads ?"

"Absolutely none," Margaret breathed, "To be honest I don't even know if he's alive…But till I ain't sure, I'll keep lookin'."

They both parted after this little chat, Arthur having some business to do with Charles. Margaret decided to rest a little and to spend time some in the camp to help.

When on the road, there wasn't many people to talk to, the closest she had come to conversation was the sound of men groaning over her in dark bedrooms. She enjoyed that freedom, although that didn't mean she slept with every man she crossed path with. There had been three or four fellers these past two months, it allowed her to loosen up a little. Margaret was not the stressful type, quite the opposite in fact, but being on the run, scavenging all alone were not safe activities in these parts, especially for a woman.

Today she had taken the opportunity to talk with as many people as possible. The person she enjoyed chatting with the most was Sadie. Her story was tragic but it had made her the woman she was today. Fierce, strong and with a rare fire in her eyes. The two women had gone in the woods to shoot some bottles and Margaret quickly realised that Sadie was actually a really good shot.

During the afternoon, as usual, half of the camp was empty. A few of the girls were still here, Strauss, and Pearson too. And Dutch of course, a book in his hands, sitting by a tree. Margaret waved at him from the opposite side of the camp and he waved back with a warm smile. They hadn't really had the time to properly talk with one another since she had come back. Their relationship had always been special, and nobody in the crew was certain about the true nature of it. Lovers ? Friends ? Or simply partners ? Their story went back a long time, at least twelve or thirteen years, when Van Der Linde Gang was starting to grow. A bit like Trelawny, she came and went as she pleased, sometimes disappeared for ages but unlike the Englishman, Margaret had never officially been part of the gang.

As the sun started to fade, the camp grew full and noisy again. The call of the food, probably. Fires were lit, Javier would pick up his guitar and play songs to which the others could sing along. The gang had been through some hard times lately, that was true, but they were back on their feet now, ready to make more money and prosper. Of course there were those damn O'Driscolls following them, but that was part of the outlaw life.

Everybody was cheering, laughing and drinking this evening, it had been a long time since Dutch had seen his folks like this and it pleased him deeply. He had been under a lot of pressure lately, doing his best to keep them all alive, and today, being both alive and merry was a luxury.

The little party was suddenly interrupted by an angry horse neigh, closely followed by the screams of young Jack.

"Jack !?" Cried Abigail and John in unisson, dropping their plates on the floor and running towards the direction of the sounds.

Jack was on his his back on the ground and the Count was pranced barely a feet away from him. That white horse was as majestic as he was unpredictable and dangerous, at least to everyone that wasn't Dutch. Their bond was quite amazing.

John was starting to lose it "My God, somebody calm that damn horse ! Where the hell is Dutch ?" The latter came running towards his horse

"Jack ? Stay still, son, it's okay," he reassured the child and started to soothe the white beast, "easy now, big boy, come on." Quickly enough, the Count settled down and turned towards his master "That's it, come on don't be like that. There's my good boy. You're alright, Jack ?" He turned his attention to Abigail's son

"Um, I- I think so"

"Come on you silly boy" his mother said, helping him up under John's worried eyes. "I told you, don't play 'round with the horses."

When everybody was sure the boy was fine, they went back to their occupation and the atmosphere lightened up again.

Dutch took this opportunity to feed and clean his horse a bit. The Count was a good horse, he had never wronged him and was especially effective during gunfights. As to why he was so nervous with everyone else, he didn't have a clue.

"He hasn't changed has he ?" Dutch smiled, remembering just now how he liked the sound of her voice

"No, I guess not" He turned around to look at Margaret. She was a sight to behold in this light, and in any other light for that matter. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, letting some light chestnut strands hover over her face. From the time he had met her she had always been a shirt and pants kind of woman. That hadn't changed.

"That's a fine horse you got there" Dutch pointed her mount

"Hungarian halfbred, I found her near Armadillo"

"Found her ?" Dutch questioned impishly.

"Oh shut up ! She didn't seem happy anyway." He laughed at that, knowing she hated it, then proceeded to detach his horse from the stake.

"You riddin' out ? It's nearly dark" Margaret observed

"Yeah, I think he needs to get out of the camp for a bit. Plus, I need some oil for my guns. You…you wanna join ?"

Just like the old days she thought "Well of course, Mr. Van der Linde. Where are we headin' ?"

"Valentine"

"Not Rhodes ?" She asked curiously, climbing on her horse

"Mmmh no, I'm afraid I fuckin' hate the place" he replied, doing the same

"I won't enquire on that," she laughed, "alright, let's go then."

There was barely any wind that evening, the air was hot actually, for the riders pleasure. That also meant they could actually hear each other while riddin' without having to scream. Along the way she told him about her adventures through the country, about the ups and downs and about her missing brother. Like Arthur, Dutch offered his help but she turned it down once again, saying that it was her mess and that he already had an entire group to take care of.

"That means you won't be staying then ?" He said with regret, his gaze falling towards the ground. She caught that, and felt a strange little feeling in her stomach.

"No…I'm afraid not…but I'll come back, Dutch, ya know I always do" Margaret managed to squeeze his hand in hers and he tightened his hold on it before kissing it

"I know, my dear, I know".

Valentine, at this hour, was still a busy town, the bank being the only establishment closed. The sheriff was watching over from the porch, a cigar between his fingers. The piano of the saloon could be heard from the mudded street, there seemed to be quite a party inside. Dutch liked this town, it had stores for everything, people that didn't ask too many questions and it wasn't too big. Or too civilised as he liked to say.

They hitched their horses near the old church, Dutch whispering little things to the Count before they started walking towards the gunsmith.

"Actually this might take a while," he cleared his throat, "there's a few things I'd like to arrange on this gun. If you wanna…I don't know, wait inside or-"

"Oh don't worry I'll be at the saloon !" Margaret said enthusiastically, "come meet me when you're done, have a drink or somethin', as we used to." She smiled and he nodded, disappearing behind the doors. Barely inside, he found that he wanted nothing more than get out and join her directly for that drink.

Barely a foot in the cheerful place and all the eyes were on her. Seeing a woman walk alone in a place like this was unusual enough, a woman wearing pants, they wouldn't see that happen for the next decade. At the bar it was whisky or beer and nothing in between. The point tonight wasn't to get drunk so Margaret opted for the softer of the two. The piano player was actually pretty good she thought, even though she never claimed to be an expert. So good that her feet started to tap the rhythm on the wooden planks. But it didn't go any further than that, not until she had her partner back at least. In the past she had had the pleasure of dancing with Dutch, it wasn't something that many people knew, but he was a pretty decent dancer, graceful. Oh what fun they used to have, her and the entire gang, they sure knew how to enjoy themselves. There was a time when she was much more present, and then for some reason they started moving and so did she, in completely opposite directions. Her daydreaming was interrupted by a soft voice.

"Evenin' ma'am, would you terribly mind if I bothered you with my presence ?" The man asked, lifting his hat a little. Normally she would have turned him down nicely, knowing where that usually led, but he had been polite and actually had asked for her consent, a rare thing at this hour.

"Of course" she said, leaving him some room on the counter. The stranger waved at the bartender and who automatically poured him a whisky. Regular customer, Margaret thought, taking a sip of her own beverage.

"You're new here ? I ain't never seen you before" the man admitted casually

"Yeah, I'm just passing through"

"Oh…that's a shame" he lowered his head shyly, playing with the aim of his shirt. He seemed like a sweet guy and although his large Panama still covered most of his head, he was rather handsome.

"So, what do I call my new acquaintance ?" Margaret asked, sensing that the guy simply wanted a little company

"The name's Clarence, ma'am. Very pleased to meet you" He answered joyfully, apparently happy that she was taking an interest to him.

They talked more easily after a few minutes, about themselves, their lives. Clarence ordered a second whisky, and downed it just as fast as the first one. He was a very funny man and Margaret found herself laughing quite hard at his stories, a sound that brought a smile to his lips each time.

A bit higher on the street, Dutch was just getting out of the store. He was smiling, for two reasons. The first, he had made some good purchase in there, his favoured pistol was practically anew; the second, and the best one, he was heading towards the saloon, in which Margaret was waiting for him. For some reason, he decided to adjust himself before walking in. He traced his moustache with his thumb and index, ran his hands through his hair backwards and readjusted his sleeves just under the elbows before putting his hat back on his head. Everything was ready…except he was a little disappointed as he pushed the doors open. Margaret, it seemed, while waiting for him, had found herself a drinking partner. A male drinking partner. Discreetly, he found a crowded spot near the poker table, pretending to be interested in the game. He simply watched them for a while, at some point, he hoped, she would turn around and look for him.

Progressively, Dutch's jaw tensed with what he was seeing. He shouldn't have felt that way, she didn't belong to anyone, least of all him, but he couldn't help it. They had never been together, never shared anything romantic before although they always had been very close. One time she had bathed him and cleaned his wounds after a… rough day, shall we say. It was just the two of them and he hadn't seen her as anything more than a partner in crime before that day. However after that, he found his feelings had grown for the young woman, at a very fast rate. He wanted her beside him, always. Riding with him, fighting alongside him. He wanted her to be a permanent member of the gang, but this was not what she wished for. Often, she described herself as a hopeless loner, in search of whatever was to be found. Being part of a group, a family was not the lifestyle she aspired to and he understood that.

For that reason he had never sought to be with her. If he had her, letting her go when she pleased was not an option. It had been a new thing for him, not having control over someone else. But at the time he hadn't minded, all he wanted for her was to be happy.

However now, she seemed a little too happy for his taste with this feller at the bar. The man was younger than him, about exactly Margaret's age he reckoned. He was a regular if Dutch remembered correctly, always chatting endlessly with the bartender. In a way he shouldn't have been surprised to find her chatting with another man, he knew she was a very extroverted woman and that, like he with women, she enjoyed the company of men, both in public and private. She was a man's woman, and he a woman's man, there was no question about that, but strangely enough they had never decided to satiate their sexual needs with one another. Maybe they felt too close for that, or maybe they were just being complicated.

"And then he mistook a horse for his own, the fool, the all town started shootin' at us ! What a mess it was !" Clarence laughed, he was at his third glass now.

"Haha, I can imagine !" Margaret agreed, trying to stop herself from laughing too hard.

"Oh, and there was this other time when-," the man started coughing, "when he-"

"Are you alright, Clarence ?" She asked concerned

"Yeah, yeah, it's just- maybe three glasses was a lil' too ambitious for me." He took a step back from the bar, circling his belly with his arms "Oh God, I think I'm gonna puke".

Clarence rushed through the backdoor, Margaret right behind him, a supportive hand behind his back. Only then did she realise he was quite a big man, it was a funny contrast with his soft voice. She left him a little privacy as he bent over the grass and coughed some more.

"You okay back there ?" No answer, she turned around to check on him "Clar-" Margaret was violently silenced by a large and firm hand around her throat. The son of a bitch was big indeed, as he was practically lifting her off the ground.

"Damn, woman, I thought you'd never stop talkin' ! Not an easy one are ya ? Well I'll show ya" She could barely hear him, all the sounds around were muffled. The air was starting to miss at an incredibly fast rate, and trying to fight him in vain wasn't doing her any good. In a gun fight she handled herself without effort, Arthur used to tease her about the fact that she was almost as good as him. However, one on one with an average man, as much as she hated to admitted it, was a whole different story. Her physical limits were here and there was not much she could do about it. Clarence threw her on the ground, face first in the mud, letting go of her neck for a brief moment. No sound managed to escape her mouth when she tried to scream and her eyes were getting teary. Soon he was on top of her. His legs were apart and in a desperate attempt to at least hurt him, knowing that it would probably not stop him from doing what he had planned, she kicked him in the balls as hard as possible. It did hurt, but not nearly enough, if anything it pissed him off.

"Settle down ya goddamn bitch !" He growled, punching her in the throat. Now, she had been through a lot in her life, couple of bullets here and there. That particular hit made her think she was going to die right on the spot. The pain was so unusual and raw, it was a strange sensation, not one she was keen on feeling ever again. If she survived the night that is.

A/N: Sooo, my very first attempt at a Red Dead fic. Really hope you'll enjoy it ! I'm almost done with chapter 2 which will be very smutty and the last one, unfortunately; i would have loved to make something longer but I'm already insanely late on txo other stories that I haven't updated in months...So I don't won't to completely forsake my fellow readers, although I fear I already have in a way :'(