Ages of characters involved in the chapter. Yes, I know some aren't strictly canon, but they fit my headcanon better dammit.

Arthur: 14

Dutch: 25

Susan Grimshaw: 26

Hosea: 36

Susan Grimshaw

1880

"Stocking up a root cellar?" asked the clerk with a chuckle. She brushed a dark curl from her face as she tallied up the final cost.

"More of a hunting trip, out west," said Dutch. He stacked the last cans of food on the counter.

"No better place for it," she said. "We're the last town on the frontier. Go any further west and there's not much until you hit the ocean."

Dutch smiled wryly and pulled a few bottles of whiskey from the shelf. "Oh, I'm counting on it, miss."

"When you boys headed out?" she asked casually enough.

Dutch fixed her with a keen eye. He hadn't mentioned Hosea and Arthur. Young and pretty, dark hair and burgundy dress, completely normal. She held his stare, hard and unflinching.

"I saw the blonde man out over at the gunsmith with his son earlier," she said with a coy smile. "You three all rode in together, proud as pigeons."

Dutch nodded, surprised. "Clever, miss."

"Miss Grimshaw," she said. Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Susan, depending on when y'all are heading out."

Dutch gave her a second, more pointed look and swept his eyes over her. She didn't giggle or blush, just stood there all stoic with her chin in the air and a hint of desire in the look she gave him.

"Oh, Susan," he said with a slow smile, "we'll be heading out whenever you and I are finished."

Three weeks later, they still hadn't finished. And Hosea was on the verge of exhausting what Dutch had thought was his infinite supply of patience. Dutch hadn't even robbed the girl. Not that she didn't have anything to rob. Susan stayed in a room she rented from a miner's wife, who certainly wouldn't have been such a lovely host if she was aware what sort of degenerate her lodger had dragged in.

Then again, both of them had little to complain about as to his manners. Dutch fancied himself rather a gentleman, reading people and what they wanted to hear easier than a book. The town had little in the way of entertainment, but Susan was a sharp-tongued drinker and a fierce cardswoman. Not to mention her bedroom providing more than enough entertainment for them both. As Hosea had greeted him ever more coolly at the hotel, Dutch had taken to staying in the miner's wife's house on the edge of town.

Dutch picked up a silvery picture frame from the mantle. Within, the miner and his wife smiled on their wedding day. He turned it over, picking a nail at the metal. Genuine. Six dollars, maybe six fifty.

A sharp knock sounded on the door.

"Oh, Aiden, could you get that?" called Susan from the bedroom.

Dutch peered through the curtains and groaned. "Of course, darling."

He opened the door and flashed Hosea his most charming smile. "The lady of the house is not here right now, but I might take a message to her lodger," he said mildly.

"Very funny," snapped Hosea. He tried to step into the house, but Dutch blocked him off. "While you're out here, playing house with a woman, I had to run interference last night for Arthur."

Dutch sighed. "What did the boy do now?"

Hosea waved an exasperated hand and crossed his arms. "He got it into his head to burgle a house. Turned out to be the local sheriff."

"Did he get anything good?" asked Dutch, more than a touch impressed.

"He got arrested is what he got," Hosea said as though he thought Dutch an idiot. "Lucky he didn't get shot."

Dutch smirked. "Are you telling me, dear friend, that you can't talk a boy out of a petty robbery charge?"

Hosea shook his head. "We've been here too long and this town's too small, Dutch. They know us, by now. And everyone knows about this affair the shopkeeper is having with a vagrant. The sheriff will be up shortly to speak with you about Arthur. He wants to press charges and there's no talking him out of it."

Dutch lost his humour. That was less than ideal. "No one was injured? Nothing was actually stolen?" Hosea shook his head. Dutch clapped him on the shoulder. "Then we break the boy out, load up that new wagon, and we skip town, head west like we wanted."

"And what about this new girl?" asked Hosea.

"Aiden? Who is it?" called Susan.

Hosea chuckled. "I suppose we're leaving her behind, then."

Before Dutch could think of something to say, Susan appeared at his side and he wrapped an arm around her waist. He opened his mouth and hoped words would follow it.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he started, "but my old friend Laurence and his son, Ben, got into some real trouble last night and I will have to leave for some time."

Susan raised a single dark eyebrow. "Oh, you will, will you?"

Dutch shook his head and sighed. "It's a dreadful situation, but without me, those two will just destroy themselves utterly. Laurence and his wife can hardly control the kid."

"Is that so?" she asked in that dark, sarcastic voice. She put a hand on his chest and looked up with such innocent eyes. "Then, my dear sweet Aiden, mind telling me who Dutch is? Or is he Laurence's wife?"

Dutch braced himself a moment before she slapped him. Hosea howled with laughter and gripped the porch to keep himself upright.

Holding back his anger, Dutch nodded. "I suppose I deserved—"

Smack. And again. A smarting embarrassment burned in his cheek.

"I don't think I quite deserved that one, though," he said, backing away from her grip.

"That one was for not telling you're a criminal," she snapped. "Three weeks of spinning lies and you think I wouldn't know a damn thing about you? I swear, I've met shit with more common sense than you, Aiden."

"I agree," managed Hosea as he righted himself.

"Oh, shut up, Hosea," cursed Dutch. He put a hand to his twice-slapped cheek.

"So what are you gonna do out west?" said Susan, putting her hands on her hips. "Steal from rattlesnakes?"

Hosea hesitated but Dutch waved him along. "We have an appointment to meet a man about a patch of untouched land in California."

Susan chuckled. "And make honest livings for one day in your life?"

"We do make honest livings," insisted Dutch. "This Gold Rush has turned up all sorts of new rich, abound in greed as they hoard the spoils made from the backs of migrant workers. Meanwhile, the destitute languish in their poverty, in a need what may only be fulfilled by—"

"Uh-huh," said Susan. Her lip curled in distaste. "And where does buying a plot of land fit in with this fine philosophy?"

Dutch inched closer to her, holding her eyes in his. "A new life, a better life," he said earnestly, "purer and more honest to the base freedoms what this great country was built on. Far from the controlling hands of Uncle Sam and those capitalistic vultures, we can build a new world. Living together with the land, sharing the bounty with friend and family. Even if it's only ten acres, every dream of every nation began with a single patch of dirt where a brave soul planted a flag."

Something wavered in Susan's eyes and Dutch had been playing at this for long enough to know what it was. Not quite trust or belief, but a desire to believe. And that was all he needed. A slow smile curled his lips, mirrored on her own.

"Sounds exciting."

"Is is."

"Sounds like an adventure."

"It sure has been. But it's almost over."

"I… I wouldn't agree," said Hosea.

"Oh, don't be such a doubter," said Dutch carelessly.

"This land," said Hosea, as though Dutch hadn't heard the same complaints the entire ride west, "I know the area. It's too rocky for farmland, barren of forest and timber. It's… not worth it."

Dutch shrugged. "Then we hit a few more jobs, wait for another opportunity," he said. He turned back to Susan. "There's more than enough money in this nation for everyone to achieve their dreams. It just matters who you take it from."

Susan nodded, one of those rare genuine smiles crossing her lips. "Give me an hour and I'll pack a bag."

Dutch planted a kiss on her forehead and ran a hand down her body as she left. "Of course, darling," he said.

Hosea shook his head, looking wistfully at her retreating back. "I don't know how you do that, Dutch. Just, go on one of your rants and suddenly, you have a convert."

Dutch beamed. "It's a gift, my brother. Just hope she'll like the boy."