Chapter 4
"Arthur."
Arthur stirred, the voice soft and distant. He turned over, yawning and pulling his blanket closer to his face.
"Arthur!"
He groaned. "What…"
A kick smacked his leg, and he awoke instantly. He sat up with a grunt, rubbing his face. "Sonova bitch, Hosea. What?!"
"The boy? Have you seen him?"
"Not since last night," Arthur mumbled, crawling out of his tent with a loud yawn. "He-" Arthur bit his tongue, suddenly red-faced and not daring to openly admit John crawled into his tent last night. The ribbing he would receive would be torturous. "He was asleep on his pallet, but that's the last I saw him. Why, what's goin' on?"
He saw Bessie and Susan looking around camp, their hushed voices exchanging as their eyes bounced around spot to spot.
Arthur pulled on his boots and looked around. He noticed the camp's provisions compartment was open and food and cans laid about. He put two and two together and glared at Hosea.
"That little gremlin stole from us and ran?!"
"Well…we don't know, but it's sure as hell lookin' like it," Hosea answered. He had a hand on his hip, his fingers tapping restlessly as he thought. "Dutch ain't missing anything personal, and neither are the women. I didn't find anything of mine misplaced. How about you?"
Arthur stooped back down into his tent, digging around. "Shit! Yeah, my gun 'n my knife're gone!"
He stood up straight, cursing under his breath. "After what I did for that little shit. I'm gon' skin his hide now!"
"You'll do no such thing."
Dutch's tone was final as he came around, dark eyes scanning over the camp. Arthur felt himself bow up in response, but Hosea gripped his shoulder.
"That damn kid took my hat, and now my gun 'n knife. He took food. He took advantage of us after I saved his ass! I shoulda let him drown!"
"You don't mean that," Hosea said.
"Damn straight I do."
Dutch jabbed a finger into his chest. "I raised you better than that, son. He's just a boy. You were in his shoes at one time, now would you goddamn think about that?"
Arthur released a tight breath, deflating. "Fine…I take it back. But I'm gonna beat some sense into him for sure."
"You're taking it too personal, Arthur."
"Well, 'course I am, Dutch. He took my stuff after I saved him from drownin'."
"Exactly."
Arthur gave Dutch a look, and then side-glanced Hosea, confused. "What the hell does that even mean?"
Hosea gave a wry smile, patting Arthur on the arm. "Think what Dutch is trying to say, Arthur, is that John took your stuff because he likes you. You saved his life, he…he admires you. The boy asked a bunch of questions about you last night when you were off doin' chores."
"Ya'll make no sense. That's a stupid reason to take my stuff."
"Oh really?" Dutch rounded, folding his arms. "Hosea…what happened to your favorite satchel you had for ten years?"
"Arthur took it."
"Hey!"
"Well? Am I lying?"
"No…"
"Dutch, I recall you had a gun holster you were quite fond of."
"Oh, shut up, that's completely different. I knew you fellas for a while before I took 'em and you knew 'bout it! Besides, he took my hat before all that!"
"Okay, fine. Then care to explain why he was huddled up to you in your tent last night? It was quite adorable."
Arthur went white as a ghost, stuttering as Dutch smirked his way. "T-That t-that's nothin' to do with it! The little monster was just cold!"
Hosea elbowed Dutch with a wink. "Are you sure? You two looked like precious brothers sleeping."
"You g-got it all wrong! I-I shoved him back outside!"
"Sure you did, Arthur," Hosea said.
Arthur very much wanted to slam his head into a tree right now.
Dutch sighed. "Well, ain't much we can do about it. Lost cause for now."
"Whaddya mean? I'll mount up and go find the little heathen right now."
Dutch pinched his nose. "We have a job to do, Arthur. We can't risk blowing our cover searching all over town for a boy. We get this score done with the Warrens and then we'll look."
"Little shit will be long gone by then."
"No, he won't," Hosea chimed. "He'll stick around. He has nowhere else to go at the moment."
"I'll send Miss Grimshaw and Mrs. Matthews into town to search and ask around for a limited time, but that's all I can allow."
"Fine. I just want my stuff back."
"Are you not even a little bit curious on why he took your stuff and left?"
"Not in the slightest."
"Aw, my dear boy. Are you gonna sulk all day? Do you need a hug?"
"You're a real piece of work, Dutch."
Dutch whistled at the women, beckoning them before looking back at Arthur. "I need you focused today, Arthur. We'll deal with this after. Do as Hosea says, alright?"
"Sure, Dutch."
Dutch left to go speak with Susan and Bessie. Hosea nodded towards a nearby table with a small smile.
"C'mon, son. We have a lot of planning to do. We want this to go right tonight, so we'll need to plan out every detail."
"Are you sure it's there?"
"Yes, I was at their house all day. It's there, Arthur."
Arthur scratched his head. "Why me? You got slicker hands, Hosea."
"Dutch and I will be their center of attention. You can do it, Arthur. You've done it lots of times."
"Yeah, but not with so many people 'round."
Hosea shook his head. "Nah, just the family. The ranch hands and guards won't be in the house."
"And this key? It unlocks the cellar door behind the barn?" Dutch inquired, stroking his mustache.
"Correct. That is where they keep their money as well as those documents we need to expose them."
"I don't know. I mean, how long do we gotta play pretend at dinner before he shows us around the place?" Arthur asked.
"Trust me, won't take long. He has a prized thoroughbred stallion he'll want to show off to Dutch. He showed it to me not long after arriving at their home still spinning the bullshit story we are now acting out."
"So, we nab him there and hold him hostage? Get into the cellar, take the money and documents and then get the hell out of there?" Dutch asked.
Hosea nodded, a pleased smile gracing his lips. "Yep. Easy peasy."
"The last time you said easy peasy, I nearly got killed in a goddamn dress, Hosea."
His father-figure stifled a grin, shrugging. "Well, if we ain't gettin' shot at in women's garments are we really living?" A wheezy laugh escaped his lips.
Hosea and Dutch snorted chuckles like naughty children and Dutch smacked Hosea on the arm playfully.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh, dear God."
The heavy thumping of hooves hit their ears, and a horse burst from the hidden path in the woods out into the camp. The three men were alerted and rose quickly to their feet. Susan pulled on the reins, containing the panting horse. Miss Grimshaw's hair was a mess, her eyes large and round, sweat trickling down her forehead.
"Dutch! Hosea! Them bastards got the boy! And Bessie, I couldn't stop her! I had to come get help!"
"What? Who?" Dutch demanded, his face quickly souring.
"The Warrens! They caught the boy robbin' the gun store. They're talkin' 'bout hangin' him! Bessie went after 'em to try and stop 'em! We have to hurry!"
"Goddammit!" Hosea cursed.
"Get your guns and mount up," Dutch ordered.
Hosea and Dutch went to their tents. Arthur hurried over to the wagon that contained their stored weapons. He tossed Susan a repeater as she briskly walked over and she caught it gracefully. When she came closer, he tried handing her a revolver, but she pushed it away. Instead, she reached into the compartment and pulled out a shotgun, cocking it with a scowl. Arthur got himself a repeater and a revolver and loaded them and his bandolier.
When he and Miss Grimshaw went for their horses, Dutch and Hosea were already mounting up. Dutch kicked his horse into a gallop, and they rode out. Arthur didn't realize his heart was racing until he spurred his horse to come up alongside Dutch and Hosea.
What was that boy thinking? Why did he try and rob the gunsmith? Arthur thought back. John seemed really curious on why Dutch wanted those guns.
Dumb kid! Arthur thought.
"I've told her! I've told her a thousand times!" Hosea yelled, voice shaky. It was strange to see his mentor unnerved. "I told Bessie her good heart was gonna get her killed one of these days!"
"Easy, brother," Dutch said, tone a mix of icy and calm that Arthur couldn't quite grasp. "She'll be fine. And we'll handle the Warrens. But now they got another thing comin'."
Arthur felt uneasy, glancing at Susan. Nothing good ever came out of Dutch's wrath and Hosea's fear. They were an ungodly mix of madness and trouble. If Hosea couldn't appease Dutch then they would surely be walking into an all-out gunfight.
Arthur pulled his horse around closer to Dutch. "Dutch, we should think this over."
"Oh, I am thinking. Lots of things."
"But-"
Dutch spurred his horse faster. Hosea and Susan directed their horses after him. Arthur cursed under his breath and caught up, nerves burning under his skin.
"If something happens to Bessie…I-"
"Nothin's gonna happen to her, Hosea. We'll handle this. They will be fine," Susan assured. "I just…I don't understand why John would rob the gunsmith."
Arthur looked at Dutch, took in the black fedora atop his dark curls, his tense shoulders and hardened glare. "Think he overheard that Dutch wanted 'em. Not sure what he was tryin' to prove though."
"Doesn't matter why," Dutch said, side-glancing them. "What matters is that these bastards are about to hang a goddamn boy and we need to stop it."
Despite his anger, Dutch had a valid point. Arthur may have had mixed feelings about John, but there was nothing good or justified over hanging a little boy.
Only the rumbling of their horses' hooves as they galloped for Hickory sounded over the rush of blood in their ears. Arthur's stomach churned, his nerves alit with fire now that anger fueled him.
They took the turn down to the Warren homestead, following a wide dirt road paralleled by a wood fence on each side. The old, two-story ranch house loomed at the end of the path, encircled by tall, shady oaks and firs.
They cut off the path towards the large, rustic barn where a small crowd was gathered near the entrance. Voices boomed across the cattle filled pastures surrounding the homestead. Some ranch hands ushered family members away with pale and worried faces.
They halted their horses and got off. Dutch and Hosea went right to each other's sides, drawing their guns and walking for the opened doors. Arthur and Miss Grimshaw got their weapons ready and followed right behind them.
Arthur's blood boiled at the sight he saw. John was up on a makeshift stand, a noose lynched around his neck and his arms bound behind his back. He looked absolutely terrified, fresh tears on his dirty face, a cut on his chin that bled. He was wearing Arthur's hat…
Despite the hat being way too big for his head and dark, greasy hair, he had it pressed down with the brim up so he could see.
The Warren family and most of their guards stood around John. Some had guns in their hands, looking out to the horrified faces of several ranch hands. Arthur saw Bessie to the right of the stand, being held by two guards, teary eyes on John with bruising welts across her jaw and cheek, her lip busted open.
"You people are animals! Let him go!" she yelled.
"Animals?!" Randy Warren scoffed. "The only animal I see is this little street rat who had the audacity to steal from us! It's my God-given right to hang thieves of my property! I'll make him an example for those who wish to rob us in the future! I don't take kindly to folks stealing what I worked hard for!"
Boom!
The gunshot startled the crowd, the deafening blare cutting the air and silencing everyone. Smoke curled out of the barrel of Dutch's revolver as he pointed it towards the sky. The ranch hands silently stepped away, scared and confused. Arthur gripped his repeater, standing firm on Dutch's left side.
"What the hell is this?" Mr. Warren asked, glaring through his spectacles. His sons, Lester and Troy, stood on each side of him, also holding guns. Mr. Warren recognized them, but it soon turned into a sneer. "Ah, our fake friends. You really had me going for a while, gentlemen. But then I heard from one of my ranch hands that a few hucksters strolled into town looking for their friend, Mr. Galligan. 'Ol Jimmy was a good friend, a good source of information. Then he suddenly winds up dead after his "friends" show up into town and I knew something was amiss. But there's no denying the description of his friend and would-be killer. Your distinguishing features give you away, Mr. Van der Linde."
"What can I say, friend?" Dutch said, dark eyes on Mr. Warren as though he was prey. "I was cursed with these good looks."
Arthur knew…his father-figure had it out for Mr. Warren now.
"You're outnumbered here. I'm not sure what you want with the boy, but he's got other appointments, meeting his maker for one. Turn tail and leave, and I'll let you live."
"Dutch," Hosea whispered. It was nearly a plea.
"Oh sir, we do not run. You let my friend's wife go, and you hand me the boy, and we will let you live. Do that, and I won't make an example out of you with that noose instead."
Mr. Warren laughed. Arthur grimaced. Yep. There went that deal. Although, Arthur suspected that Dutch wasn't upset over it in the very least.
Hosea stepped forward, eyes earnest. "Do it, Mr. Warren. My friend, he-he…He isn't nearly as forgiving as I am. Let them go. You will never see us again."
"I don't make deals with lowlife ruffians."
"Arthur!" Dutch commanded.
Arthur raised his revolver, aiming for the men who held Bessie first. He flicked his hand over the hammer each trigger pull, pow, pow, and the men dropped. Dutch, Hosea, and Susan opened fire on the guards, running to the barn doors and taking cover, trapping the men inside.
The ranch hands scattered in the gunfight. Arthur felt a bullet blast through the old wood and graze his arm. He hissed.
Bessie grabbed a gun and ducked inside a stall within the barn, still trapped. Hosea covered Dutch as they aimed inside the building to take out the guards.
"Goddammit, the boy!" Dutch hollered.
Arthur looked, saw John hanging in the air, the makeshift stand no longer underneath him. His little legs kicked and he swayed, face turning blue. The hat had fallen off his head to the hay-covered ground.
"I'm goin' in!" Arthur yelled.
He dashed inside, the blaring gunfire ringing his ears. He shot Mr. Warren's younger son in the chest as he tried to intercept him. Arthur grabbed John's legs, pushing his tall shoulders under John's feet to relieve him from the noose. The boy's choking sobs stopped.
Arthur couldn't reach the noose to loosen it while holding John, and the boy couldn't grab it from his bound hands. A bullet whizzed between Arthur's legs, and another guard was shot down.
"Dutch! Hosea! Someone! Shoot the goddamn rope!" Arthur yelled.
Another gunshot, Arthur felt the rope go slack, and John dropped. He caught the boy, but they both crashed to the ground. Arthur was swift in his maneuvers to get him and the boy behind some cover. He pulled the bindings off John's hands and pulled the rope from his neck.
"Keep yer head down, kid!" Arthur ordered, pushing John's head down when he peeked out to see the gunfight.
"We're gonna die!" John cried.
"No, we ain't! Just do as I say!"
Arthur rose up, aiming at two more guards as they fired their repeaters towards the entrance of the barn. Two rapid trigger pulls and they were down. As Arthur was about to tell John to move, he was tackled to the ground.
The older son, Troy, was suddenly on top of him, fingers clenched around Arthur's throat. They rolled around in the muck and hay, punching, kicking, grunting. Troy grabbed a rusty sickle on the ground within their scuffle, and Arthur felt the blade slice across his collarbone. Arthur yelped, grabbing Troy's arm before he could slash it across his throat.
The gunfire kept raging around them, chunks of wood chipping and splintering from each blast. Arthur groaned, struggling to keep the sickle at bay.
"Duuuuutch, Hos…ea! A little…help here!"
Dutch attempted to get inside, but Hosea grabbed him and pulled him back just as a shotgun blast blew a hole in the door where he had been seconds before.
"Fuck! Arthur, hang on!" Dutch yelled.
Arthur heard some kind of angry cry and there were suddenly pitchfork barbs through Troy's chest, spurting blood out onto Arthur. Troy's agonized scream filled the barn as he dropped the tool to get up. Arthur took his chance and grabbed the rusty sickle, stabbing the long blade into the man's chest and ending him.
The barn went quiet. No more gunfire. No more yelling.
Arthur rolled the body off of him and got up. He saw John there, panting, shaking, a pitchfork in his hand as he stared with bulging eyes at the body.
"I-I…I-"
"Dammit, boy, I told ya to keep yer head down!"
John dropped the pitchfork like it was scorching hot, the color draining from his face. Arthur sighed, lungs full of gun smoke and dust. He reached over and pulled the boy into a one-armed hug.
"It's alright, kid. You done good."
"Arthur!"
He snapped his head over at the call. He saw Dutch coming in. Hosea and Bessie embraced near the entrance. Arthur didn't have a chance to say anything before Dutch grabbed him and looked him over, catching Arthur off guard.
"Jesus, son, I thought you were a goner."
Arthur scratched the back of his head as Dutch patted his shoulder affectionately. "Not this time."
"How's the boy?"
"He's fine." Arthur ran his hand across his nose, sniffling from the dust. "Helped me out a bit there, didn't ya?"
John wasn't there. Arthur's heart leapt to his throat, but then he spotted the boy in the center of the barn, where he almost hanged. He and Dutch walked over to him. John dusted something off. He turned around, slowly, shyly offering Arthur's hat.
"Here's your hat."
Arthur grinned, reaching out to take it when a crash sounded. Several farm tools fell over, making a mess. A trembling body crawled out of hiding, whimpering and sweaty. It was Mr. Warren.
An evil smirk rose on Dutch's face. "S'cuse me, gentlemen."
He ruffled John's hair as he passed by. Arthur took his hat and put it on, watching as Dutch walked over to the crying man with clenched fists.
"Dutch, no," Hosea called.
The words made Dutch falter, and he slowed. The man looked up, saw Dutch and screamed. He got up, escaping through the door to the back section of the barn. And like watching a deer flee, Dutch moved as a wolf in pursuit.
"No, leave me alone!" Mr. Warren yelled.
Arthur, Hosea, Bessie, Susan, and John followed after them. Mr. Warren cornered himself between a stable that held a beautiful, black thoroughbred and Dutch. The horse was going crazy, spooked by all the gunfire. Its stressful neighs filled the barn as it pawed at the ground, ears pinned and the whites of its eyes showing.
"I-I'll make you a d-deal! Anything, make me an offer! You want m-money? I got it!"
Dutch chuckled. "My friend, the time for deals has passed. You had your chance."
"N-No, wait!"
Dutch gut punched the man. They watched as Dutch gave him a few hard blows. John walked forward, bunching a fist and pulling his sleeve up. Arthur grabbed him by the ear and tugged him back.
"Ow, hey!"
"What do ya think you're doin'?"
"I'm helpin' him! That feller's a piece of a shit!"
"Better let Dutch handle it this time. Don't worry. He'll make 'em sorry."
Soon after, Dutch was dragging the screaming man, beaten to a pulp, across the ground by his feet as he weakly tried to grab for safety. John spat on him as he went by.
"You are the crookest crook around here, Mr. Warren! Burnin' down Andell, oppressing these fine people of Hickory to gain power! Hangin' a little boy! Beating a woman trying to save that boy! You revolt me!" Dutch yelled, hauling him to the center of the barn where John almost hanged earlier.
He dropped Mr. Warren's legs. He returned the makeshift stand and got more rope hanging on the wall. Whenever Mr. Warren tried to get up, Arthur or Miss Grimshaw kicked him back down. Dutch tied a noose on the rope and tested its hold before getting off the platform.
"I'll tell ya what, Mr. Warren. I'll make a deal for you. I won't turn in your dirty secrets. Maybe your family can recover from this. But you won't be around to see it."
He grabbed Mr. Warren. Miss Grimshaw, Arthur, and Dutch pulled him up onto the stand. The man cried and begged as Dutch tightened the noose around his neck.
"Your horse back there?" Dutch said, staring right at him. "It's ours. The money in your cellar. It's ours too."
"You can have it all, just don't hang me!" Mr. Warren begged. "I-I'm sorry, okay?" He gaped at John. "Little boy! I'm sorry!"
Dutch pinched the man's cheek. "He ain't interested in your apologies, old man! Now, to fulfill that promise I made to you earlier. I am a man of my word!"
Dutch hopped off the stand. They looked up at the bawling patriarch.
Susan curled her lip at him. "It's not nice being on that end of the rope, is it?"
Dutch kicked the stand out from under the man. He fell down, the rope catching, but it didn't break his neck. Like he was going to subject John to, he would dangle and die of asphyxiation.
They watched Mr. Warren kick and choke slowly. Arthur lit a cigarette, glancing over at Hosea. He was rigid, his eyes stern on their dying enemy. He held Bessie against him, her face more swollen than before.
"You alright, Bessie?"
She nodded, assuring him with a gentle smile. "I'll be fine, Arthur. Thank you."
"What 'bout you, Hosea?"
Hosea shrugged. "Can't say that I feel sorry for the fella anymore. It's just, well…Dutch can get a little carried away sometimes."
Arthur puffed on his cigarette, a wry smile forming. "Well one thing's for damn sure. Dutch always knows how to make an example outta someone."
Once Mr. Warren shuddered his last breath, Dutch turned around with a satisfied look on his face. "Time to break into that cellar."
"Bessie and I will get the horse," Susan said.
Dutch, Arthur, Hosea, and John left the barn. The Warren homestead was deathly silent, as though it had been cursed in the aftermath of the gunfight and the hanging of its lord.
"We should get what we can and get out of here, keep moving for a few days," Hosea suggested. "This…This turned into a bloody mess. We gotta lay low for a while, cover our trail."
"Don't worry, Hosea," Dutch said. "We're heading west as soon as we get the money."
"Uh…Mr. Dutch?" John mumbled.
"Yes, son? Are you alright? In all this madness, I've been unable to check on you. Are you hurt? Do you need anything?"
"N-No. I'm alright…thanks to Arthur."
Arthur felt his cheeks burn and he turned away.
"I got somethin' for you."
"For…me?" Dutch looked puzzled, kneeling down in front of the skinny boy.
John nodded his head, smiling. He pulled a key out of his pocket, presenting it to their leader. "It's the key to the gun safe. In the gunsmith. There's lots of guns in there…money too."
Dutch slowly took the key, looking it over, surprised. "You got this all on your own?"
"That's why you ran off? Why they caught you stealing?" Hosea questioned, disbelief lacing his tone as well. "Just for that?"
John suddenly looked self-conscious, dark eyes shifting between them as he played with his fingers. "Yeah…I mean, I overheard Mr. Dutch wanting them. And I wanted to do something to repay you fellas for feedin' and shelterin' me…repay Arthur for savin' me from drownin'. So, I took Arthur's weapons to break in there and get it."
Arthur wasn't sure what he was feeling. He was angry, frustrated, sure, but his heart clenched when he realized exactly why John ran off with his weapons. "Ya dumb fool! Almost got yourself killed anyway! Why would you do that?! What if we hadn't come in time?!"
Hosea hit him hard. Arthur gnashed his teeth but didn't speak another word. John lowered his eyes, shoulders slumping. It was a complete turnaround from his usual rowdy and stubborn nature. And Arthur forgot for a moment that John's tough exterior was just a front to protect himself and to hide his inner grief and fears, much like Arthur had done at his age. And maybe still some to this day.
He sighed, ashamed.
Dutch glared at Arthur only briefly before putting his hands on each of John's shoulders, looking at him closely. "My boy…sometimes we lash out in anger when we care the most."
John slowly nodded, glancing up at Arthur.
"What you did was very brave, but your life ain't worth what's in there," Hosea said.
"I just…wanted to repay you. After causin' you trouble and-and-"
"You don't owe us nothin', boy," Arthur said. "We just did the right thing. We're bad people a lot of the time. We rob, we con, hell like today we kill a lot of folks sometimes, but we ain't never gonna let a kid go hungry or be drowned."
"It was nice…havin' someone care. I forgot what that felt like."
Dutch rose to his full height, his features softer than Arthur had seen in a while as he studied John. "Hosea…we're keeping him."
Hosea rolled his eyes. "No surprise there. It's Arthur all over again."
"Hey!"
John gaped, a surprised, unsure smile pulling on his lips. "R-Really? You'll let me stay?"
"Of course, son. We'll teach you the tricks of our trade. Me, Hosea, and Arthur."
"I ain't no nanny, Dutch," Arthur said.
Hosea smacked Arthur's arm. "Nope, you're a brother now. Get used to it."
"Goddammit."
He sounded frustrated on the outside, but inside Arthur felt relieved the little shit was going to be safe.
A/N: Sorry this chapter took a bit longer than intended! Yay, now John is officially part of the gang/family! It's not quite over yet though, I still have one more chapter for this short story to come! Hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, and I hope your new year is going good! Til next time readers. ^^