Sadie watched as Levin's hand started to quiver over the page. He was a nervous man, and she'd taken a lot of humour in the fact he was far too used to civilisation, much too much of a delicate man for the rough nature of the wilderness. The fact that he was so enthralled by the idea and stories of the Wild West, a time where someone like him would most likely have been chewed up and spit out over and over was both amusing to her, but also understandable.
Many people in the civilised world felt like their lives were getting more and more hemmed in, and had a rose-tinted vision of a past that never existed. Where a person could live on their wits and nothing else. Where no one could tell them what to do and they could call a different place home every day. She'd lived through the dying days of that time, in some ways she still did, and she knew there was no romance to it. Without laws, people gave in to base natures. A few days without food could make just about anyone resort to some pretty desperate and horrendous things. Her body was covered in scars, each one a lesson learned about the Idyllic "freedom" those people romanticised, largely because of stories like Levin's.
However, she had a feeling his nerves weren't really because he felt like he was in danger. In Blackwater, they were much more in his element than hers. She preferred space. She didn't like to be around too many people.
"Is there a problem Mr Levin?" She asked him.
"I…I…" He put down his pen and reached for his coffee, taking a long sip. He looked to his breakfast, which he now had no appetite for, and pushed it away. Sadie just shrugged, and picked it up, putting it on top of her empty plate.
"Waste not want not, that were what my momma used to always say." She said, starting to eat. "So, is there a problem?"
"I just…I was wondering…" He started to stammer nervously, picking up his cup again. He took another long sip. "I was just wondering if you remembered that correctly."
"I'm sorry?" She asked him, through a mouthful. By now Levin's plate was already almost half empty. It seemed her days on the trail of the last fugitive had indeed worked up quite an appetite for her.
"I just…I'm not sure if…" He said, before taking a deep breath, getting out a cigarette, which uncharacteristically he didn't ask if she minded him lighting up, and struck a match on the table, before lighting it. He took a long drag. "Perhaps you might want to reconsider telling me this part."
"Why would I do that?" She asked him. He looked around, before drawing in closer.
"Off the record, the man you're describing, the man you claim to have traced to Pronghorn Ranch. He sounds a lot like John Marston." He explained. "And that gentleman I saw you riding with looks a lot like…"
"Mr Levin, do you remember that book you wrote about Calloway?" Sadie asked him. Levin just stared at her and nodded. "You know why I decided to speak to you and tell you my story?"
"I…I talked you into it?" He asked her. Sadie just laughed.
"Mr Levin, you are good company, but you ain't half as charming as you think you are." She responded. "I decided to tell you this story because you spin a good line of bullshit. One people are only too happy to believe."
"Thank you?" He offered weakly, feeling more than a little offended by her bluntness. Sadie just put her cutlery down and picked up her coffee, starting to drink from it.
"Mr Levin, let's not be too coy here. We both know that what I've told you already is enough to earn me a hangin' all across the territory several times over. You never once wondered why I'd be happy to talk to you about that?" She asked him. He shook his head. He didn't know what to think, but more importantly he didn't know how to answer in a way that wouldn't anger her. He did instinctively wonder if perhaps she was revealing that John was not only alive, but also in the area as a way to get people to focus on him instead of her. However, no one other than the two of them even knew Sadie was a member of the Van Der Linde Gang. The only ones still at large according to the wanted posters were Dutch, Javier, Bill, John and Micah. The others had disappeared into the ether to whatever fate awaited them. Either their crimes by comparison being too small to be noticed or their identities never revealed. Sadie leaned back in her chair.
"Well, Mr Levin, maybe if I tell you this next part of the story it'll all make a lot more sense." She replied. Levin just nodded and picked up the pen. "Now, Kirk was a slippery bastard, kind of squirrely, but thanks to a…friend…I found him in Strawberry. Turns out he were waitin' on a train to New York. We chased him down, caught him and then my friend rode off. Had some business elsewhere. I didn't think to ask where before you ask. Anyway, I were takin' him to Valentine but it were gettin' late, so I decided to wait until mornin' before I brought him to the sheriff."
Back in the past, Sadie was stoking the campfire, taking a sip of whiskey while she checked on it to make sure it was properly stoked.
"You gonna give me some of that whiskey?" Kirk asked her. He was lying, resting up against some rocks a little way off. Sadie had tied him securely, ensuring he wouldn't scurry off during the night.
"Why the hell would I do that?" She asked him. "I saw that room you bought with other people's money. Looks to me like you've been livin' it up pretty damn good on other people's dime."
"A last drink for the condemned man? You haven't heard that's the custom?" Kirk asked.
"Condemned man? What the hell are you talkin' about? Embezzlement ain't a hangin' offence!" She yelled at him. "Much as it should be it ain't, and we both know that, now shut up!"
She started moving the logs around a little.
"I swear, this country." She muttered. "If you'd walked into a store with a gun like a man, odds are you'd be lookin' at swingin', but you rob a whole town of thousands and you're goin' to a prison? Man, I hope they send you to Sisika. Those boys'll have you wishin' you was hung inside a week."
"I never hurt no one." He protested.
"Really? You never hurt no one?" She asked him. "Well, why don't we see about that?"
She pulled out some documents and a book from her saddlebag. She'd swung by his room in Strawberry to make sure she hadn't missed anything. She still didn't claim to fully understand how embezzlement worked, the only robbery she had much knowledge of involved a six-shooter, a repeater and occasionally some dynamite. She started reading. "Oh, how about this one? Young couple, got a loan to buy the land for their house. The bank don't get that money back, where do you suggest they live?"
"I…"
"Oh, how about this one? Guy took out a loan for some carpentry tools. And this one, guy bough a horse for his wife…not everyone you stole from is exactly able to just shrug off those losses." Sadie told him.
"I…I don't look at stuff like that." He responded. "I just see numbers on a page, that's all."
"I swear, this new age." She replied, shaking her head, looking through more papers.
"You don't have to read out any more, I get the point." He replied. Sadie though didn't say anything, instead finding a document among his belongings. It was a title deed for some land. "Oh, what's that? Someone wanted to build an orphanage?"
"This…it…it can't be." Sadie stammered, before coming towards him. "This deed, this land, it was sold to this man. Do you remember this man?"
"Why would I?" He asked her. "The bank signs lots of title deeds, hell you've got deeds for miles of lands in your hands right there…"
Sadie slugged him hard across the face.
"Your name is on this deed, YOU signed it! YOU were the one that sold this land!" She yelled at him. "Now, this man, did you get a good look at him?"
She grabbed him and shoved the deed in his face.
"You see that name right there?" She asked him.
"Tacitus Kilgore." He read aloud. Sadie could hardly believe it when she read the name. It was a long time since Arthur had explained the gang's mailing system in Rhodes, but she would never forget that name. While Arthur used that name extensively across many states whenever he needed to adopt a false identity, Tacitus Kilgore was the name they set up local post offices to expect mail for. All of them had used that identity at one time or another. Sadie had even written a letter to "Uncle Tacitus" under the guise of his "Niece Caroline." To see it now, so many years later…she already knew Arthur was dead, who was it that had used it? Bill and Javier had high-tailed it as soon as the Pinkertons descended on Beaver Hollow. She'd heard that Javier's name in whispers connected to some kind of despot when she was with Ricketts. Bill…she'd heard rumours of him floating around but nothing solid, but the one thing that was consistent was both of them were looking for others to align with because they fled without the money. Neither of them had anything like the funds to buy land, and she couldn't imagine Bill having the brains to do so either. "Now, what did he look like?"
Kirk didn't answer her. Sadie just sighed and drew her knife.
"What…what's that for?" She asked him.
"You know, you may not think you have much to lose Mr Kirk, but you see…that's where you'd be wrong." She told him, pulling off his boots. "You got toes for a start."
"You're not serious!" He shrieked.
"The bounty only requires you to be alive, it don't say nothin' about havin' to bring all of you in as long as what I do bring in is alive!" She warned him, dragging the blade of her knife against the soft flesh of his sole, before bringing its edge to his smallest toe. "Now, you want to reconsider your position? Or do I start leavin' something for the coyotes?"
Kirk sang like a canary. He'd told her all about that deal. Someone had come in and put down money to buy some land. Far more than its actual worth. He not only didn't haggle, he offered far more than the value that was even posted for sale.
After she dropped off Kirk, along with all the papers he had on him, hoping that every scrap of paper would add to his sentence and see him put away for a good long time, she set off for the plot. The land owned by Tacitus Kilgore.
She slid off her horse as she rode into Pleasance. At one time it had been a town, but one that had been ravaged by plague. It was a ghost town a little way from Rhodes, even back when she was with the gang. The few that hadn't succumbed to the plague had abandoned it many years earlier, and since then no one had come to claim it. They were afraid of the place, which many people considered to be cursed. It had sat unused for so long that the Government had released it for sale, but until now, it seemed, no one had bought it even despite the attractively low price. It was a place no one wanted to go…perfect for someone who didn't want to be found!
The air was unerringly still and quiet around pleasance. The buildings were mouldy and rotting from years of neglect. It seemed that even after buying the land, 'Tacitus' hadn't thought to do anything with it, not even building a new home. It made sense, after all, why attract attention to it?
She sent her horse away, and started to look around, systematically searching all the buildings. Just because it was quiet didn't mean she wanted to risk being taken by surprise. There were a lot of places to hide, a lot of potential for an ambush.
Sadie took deep breaths, keeping her own movements silent. Her heart slowed, eased as she prepared for having to act. Ricketts had taught her a lot about how to catch signs in the air to find her quarry. After searching all the other buildings, she finally rounded on the church. She approached it slowly, bringing herself close to the door. She could hear a voice inside, rambling and barely audible. She opened the door and strode inside, finding him at the front, kneeling by what used to be the altar. Several cans, bottles and used cigars indicated he'd been here for quite some time. His hair was thinner than before, and rather lank and greasy. He looked as though he was praying, something that she found more amusing than anything else.
"You always thought you were God." Sadie declared, causing him to raise his head. "I'd never have thought you'd pray to anyone but yourself, Dutch."
"Mrs Adler." He responded. "I always wondered which one of you would finally track me down."
He turned on his knees, his hand going to his revolver, but Sadie already had hers trained on his head. He saw her draw, but couldn't believe how fast she moved. He smiled and laughed a little, moving his hand away from his revolver.
"You've gotten fast Mrs Adler." He complimented her. "You were never that fast next to that road from Saint Denis."
"It's been a long time Dutch." She told him, keeping her gun trained on his skull, beginning to move towards him.
"Yet it seems none of us ever move on." He replied. "Can I get up off my knees at least? I'm an old man, my knees ain't quite what they were."
She just gestured to him to get up. Dutch slowly got to his feet, looking her up and down. Even now, all these years later, he dressed and spoke like a Lord. He was wearing a suit, albeit one that was very worn and extremely dirty. His gold watch was chained across his midriff. He looked a lot paler now, and while he had clearly not been to a barber in some time, his hair, beard and moustache a lot longer than she remembered, he still waxed it. It was just like him to still want to dress like the Lord of the manor…even if that manor was so rotten it was a miracle it was still standing.
"So, I hear you're a bounty hunter these days." He commented.
"Among other things." She confirmed.
"No, but I'm sure you've seen the wanted posters." He replied, his hand heading for his pocket. Sadie cocked the hammer of her revolver, but he pulled out a cigar rather than a weapon. He just showed it to her. She allowed him to light it. "Bringing me in would make you a very rich woman. Is that what this is?"
She uncocked the hammer and raised the barrel of the revolver.
"If I'd wanted you dead, your brains would already be all over that altar." She assured him. "Cause you know the sick thing Dutch? Even after all you've done? Even with all the reasons I have to do it other than the money? Even knowing how happy it'd make Landon to know I finally put down the man that laid his home to waste…"
"Landon Ricketts. That is a name I haven't heard in a long time." He commented. "I wondered how you got so good."
"Even with all that?" She replied, putting her revolver away. "I can't bring myself to do it. You're right. I see the wanted posters. You, Javier, Bill…I see those posters all the time. I hear your names; I hear the rumours…but somehow, I can't bring myself to hunt down even that useless bastard Bill. Even with all that happened, I just…can't turn my back on what we were."
"It's nice to hear that loyalty still counts for something." Dutch responded.
"You have some hide to talk to anyone about loyalty Dutch." She snarled. "The tuberculosis may have been killin' Arthur. Micah might have beaten on him, but what you did? Turnin' your back on him? Takin' everything he believed in, all that bullshit you'd been spoutin' your whole life and tossin' it away? That broke his heart. That's what finished him off."
Dutch was silent. He looked more like a broken old man than the bringer of the Gospel of Van Der Linde that had led the most notorious gang in the territory.
"You know the really sick part?" She asked him. "Even with all the reasons I have to want to kill you? I still…I still love you too. All of us did. Bronte offered your boys a thousand dollars to kill you, none of them would have taken a million and you threw all that away for that snake Micah? You deserve everything that comes your way Dutch Van Der Linde…even if it ain't gonna be me that does it."
She wiped away a tear, before turning to leave.
"Mrs Adler!" He called after her. "You're right."
"I'm sorry?" She asked.
"About everything." He sighed. "I did notice though, there was one name you left off that list."
"What list?" She asked. Dutch started walking towards her.
"Bill, Javier, me…" He said as he counted them off on his fingers. "I would never have thought you'd go after John; you were always thick as thieves…if you pardon the expression. But I can't help notice you never said Micah's name."
Now it was Sadie's turn to be silent. She had no idea of what, if any, relationship Dutch still had with Micah. Dutch hadn't been at Fort Mercer, and Micah wasn't here in Pleasance. She did hear they had gone their separate ways some time back, but that didn't mean that they were done with each other. Dutch looked into her eyes in that way that gave her the creeps, that sent chills down her spine even to this day. That same stare that seemed to read into people's very souls and read exactly what someone needed to hear. He drew in close, whispering in her ear.
"Sergeant Emmanuel Lee." He whispered. She just looked to him in confusion. "He's a 'Sergeant' with the Lemoyne Raiders. You should find him in these parts."
"Why would that interest me?" She asked him.
"Because not so long ago he crossed paths with a mutual acquaintance of ours." Dutch told her with a smile, before turning back towards the altar. "That lead is a couple of weeks old, so…do with it what you will but…"
"You better not be jerkin' me around Dutch." She said coldly.
"What reason would I have to do that?" He asked her. "You want to find Micah; I recommend you ask the Sergeant when he last saw him."
Back in the present, Levin almost fell out of his chair hearing this.
"Emmanuel Lee?" He asked her. "The man you brought in…"
"Before you found me, yeah." She answered. "I've been tailin' Micah Bell for nigh on eight years. I'm close Mr Levin, I'm closer than I've ever been."
She took another sip of coffee, gesturing to the barman to get more.
"This ain't just my story Mr Levin, you're about to write the story of the final days of Micah Bell if you're lucky." She told him.
"And you…you want me to do what I did for Tacitus…for Arthur." He replied with a gulp. "You want me to write you out of the story so that when this is done, you can disappear."
"It's not me I want you to write out of the story." She told him. "Between us Mr Levin, that was John Marston you saw. It was John that helped me. He's a good man, and he's setting up a good life for himself now. There ain't no reason why he has to ruin that now for Micah."
"You…you want me to…"
"I want you to put everything on me, Mr Levin." She informed him. "Like I said, people listen to what your books say Mr Levin. You tell everyone I killed Micah alone, that's exactly what they'll believe."
"You want me to put your head in a noose!" He whispered. "Mrs Adler, I…I don't…"
"Mr Levin, I've been at this a long time. I'm tired. I'm just about done." She told him. "Once Micah's gone, I don't much care what happens to me. If he kills me, that's just fine with me. If I swing…you know what? I'd be fine with that too. But there ain't nothin' for me around this country no more once he's gone. I reckon you release your book; everyone is lookin' for me and I slip out of the country. No one's gonna shed too many tears about old Micah gettin' what few brains he's got shot out."
"You want me to write John out of the story?" He asked her. She just nodded.
"Mr Levin, if you can do that, I promise you, you'll get the best story you've ever written." She replied. "Now, you think you can handle that? Or…"
She flicked her eyes in the direction of the door. As the barman arrived with the coffee and started taking away the plates, he gestured for more coffee, before picking up his pen.
