It had started snowing again as Arthur approached the rocky path that led to Beaver Hollow. He was slightly irritated that the tracks had been freshly hidden with the sudden snow - there was little way to track if anyone had arrived or left recently. He continued on, waiting to hear a scout shout out to him.
Except it was silent. When Arthur reached the cave and saw the tents were gone, he knew they had moved on. But why would Micah tell him to come here? Arthur stepped off Roy and made his way around the clearing, digging into the snow with his foot to see if there was any evidence of a gunfight.
There was nothing. Nothing new, at least. He found old blankets and empty cans of food left behind. Nobody had died there recently. They just up and left.
Roy made an anxious sound and stomped the ground. Arthur dove behind a tree just as a gunshot echoed throughout the hollow. The bark splintered in places one after the other as he sank behind the tree and readied his rifle.
It had been a trap, alright. But who was he fighting against, exactly? Arthur steeled himself and aimed around the tree to pop off one man on the hill. The man fell with a hard thud. It wasn't a man from Dutch's group. A Pinkerton. This was a ploy to get Arthur killed or arrested.
They were doing well at pinning him down. A bullet nicked him in the leg, causing him to stumble. He tried to make himself smaller against the tree and took a deep breath to steady his beating heart. There were two men to his left - he waited until they fired two shots, then swerved and caught their heads in his scope and sent them falling back, blood spurting from their foreheads.
A branch snapped from behind him and he whipped around just to be shoved forwards by a Pinkerton. He lost his grip on his rifle as he fell against the ground, his right shoulder digging into a sharp rock. The man had a small pistol in his hand, which Arthur grabbed and pushed away as the two struggled on the ground.
Arthur mustered his strength and pushed the man to the ground, then grabbed his pistol and unloaded three shots in the man's stomach. He didn't bother to see if the man was moving - he found the remaining two men and picked them off.
He was surprised that despite his reclining health he was able to face off against multiple men and still pull through. His lungs were screaming and his arms were shaking, but he had done it.
He grabbed the rifle that had fallen and paused as he listened to the men. One was still alive. The man had fallen near where Dutch's tent had been and seemed to be gurgling on his own blood or spit.
Arthur went over to the and knelt slowly. "Where is Charlotte? Is she with the van der Linde gang or the Pinkertons?" he asked calmly.
"The gang... just east of Cumberland Forest, mister," the Pinkerton coughed out, spit leaking out the corner of his mouth. The man was young with blond hair and a childish face he hadn't yet grown out of. "You gotta help save me, you gotta-"
Arthur took one small glimpse at the wound. It had punctured the man's shoulder and if not taken care of soon, could prove to be fatal. But it was either Charlotte's life or the Pinkertons. "I can't do nothin' for you, mister. Except…" Arthur jogged down the path a ways and whistled for the horses the Pinkertons would have brought. He heard one neigh in response and went to go fetch it.
It was only a matter of minutes until he had tied a bandage around the man's chest and put him on the horse. "You ride to Annesburg, and don't stop for no one. You ain't got much time," Arthur warned him. The man's state was already fading - his skin was pasty and his eyes kept getting hazy. "Can you do that?"
"I'll… I'll try. Thank you, mister."
"Now get out of here," Arthur said and smacked the horse's rear. The horse shot off and vanished down the path.
The daylight was running out as the winter sun made its descent. Arthur made his own haste and had Roy ride fast to the location the Pinkerton had specified. It was a few days ride away from where he was and he was not looking forward to the journey in snow. Neither was Roy. Yet he could not let Charlotte suffer at their hands for much longer.
He ignored the fatigue in his body and only slept when he needed to. There was too much at stake for him to rest easy. He shot rabbits along the way and fixed them for his meals, or he ate the dried fruit and meat he had grabbed before he left. Food hadn't done much for him lately. It helped little to regain his energy yet he still ate what he could.
That spot in Cumberland Forest had been near the place where he had rescued Mary's younger brother from that cult. Dutch had probably cleared them out already. It was a location one would have a hard time approaching without being seen. At least it would be an easy fight against the Pinkertons, though they had been growing in numbers and Dutch's numbers had been declining.
It was mid-morning when Arthur finally approached the path that led up to the van der Linde gang. He had scoped it out with his binoculars and had seen scouts and Bill moving around, but it had been too far away to make out anybody else. They had stationed one scout on the edge of the mountain who would easily see Arthur as he approached.
Arthur felt his hands turn clammy as he went up the path. A winter chill blew through the air and the snow had yet to fall that day. The chill seeped into Arthur's skin and slowly dwindled his strength. The snow was almost a foot deep this high up and had made Arthur's journey a bit slower.
Javier greeted him on the path. "Why are you here?" he asked with no trace of disgust. He was bundled up in a thick fur jacket and his beard had grown in.
Arthur regarded him cautiously. He had always liked Javier, but the man had always followed Dutch's leadership without question. It showed the morals he possessed, but deep down, Arthur knew Javier was capable of doing the right thing.
"I'm here for Charlotte."
"The woman?" Javier seemed startled. "You… weren't who we were expecting."
"I'm sure. Some rich and powerful family, I would assume?" Arthur knew Charlotte came from a well off family, but he doubted they had actually been contacted. She was merely the bait in this plan.
"You better come explain this to Dutch. Follow me." Javier led Arthur up to the clearing where several tents were hitched and unknown men walked about. The snow had been haphazardly pushed off to the edges. He got off his horse and left him at the top of the path in case he had to make a quick getaway. The men all watched with careful and judging eyes, their hands on their rifles or pistols.
Dutch stood in a thick red jacket and black hat. His nose and cheeks were red for being in the cold too long and something about him seemed off to Arthur. Dutch's cheeks were more hollow and his mustache was bushy and untrimmed. It was unusual for Dutch to let himself go. It pained Arthur to see him like that.
"I am here for the Charlotte Balfour," Arthur said in a smooth voice. "She don't need to be mixed up in all of this."
One tall man was standing guard at a tent, his rifle held in front of him. He guess that's where Charlotte was.
"We were expecting money for her," Dutch responded. "You aren't the Mr. Balfour, unless things have changed since I seen you last."
"The Mr. Balfour has been dead for months, now. Charlotte is the one who saved my life after the O'Driscolls. I'm afraid there been some mistake, Dutch."
Micah pulled the fabric back from Dutch's tent and watched Arthur with a stern face as he stepped out. His gloved fingers were on his pistols as he made his way over to stand by Dutch, his shoulders hunched.
"Why'd you kidnap her, Micah, and then leave a note for me to find that led me directly to the Pinkertons?" Arthur questioned him.
"He's delirious, Dutch. Look at him. He's a dyin' man," Micah warned.
Arthur held out his hand. "Let me see Charlotte. I need to see she is safe."
"What's going on, Micah?" Dutch asked. For the first time, Arthur could hear doubt in his voice. "You said that woman was married. That there'd be money."
Micah rubbed a hand over his nose and sniffed. "I told you, Dutch, someone is comin' for her. Arthur's playin' games, messin' with your mind. Probably workin' for the Pinkertons-"
"I ain't workin' with them!" Arthur roared, then coughed a few times into his hands. "Let me see Charlotte-"
"Bring her out," Dutch commanded to the tall guard. The tall guard glared, but went into the tent with haste. A second later he stepped out, holding Charlotte by her arm. He tossed her to the ground and she landed harshly on her side. Her hands were tied behind her and a gag was over her mouth.
Arthur hurried to her side and used his knife to tear off the gag. He quickly assessed her - there were no bruises on her face and she had been bundled up warmly for the cold. Her hair was in a greasy mess about her head, let down as opposed to pulled back as it usually was. She was openly sobbing at the sight of him and he held her to him and patted her back. "Shhh. I came for ya, Charlotte, as fast as I could. I'm sorry this had to happen to you."
She sobbed into his shoulder. "I didn't know if you would find me; they didn't let me talk and defend myself." She pulled away from Arthur and glared harshly at Micah and Dutch. "I kept trying to tell you men there wasn't anybody who was going to rescue me! My husband's dead. I owe my life to Arthur, that's all. I don't have money to give you and neither does he."
Micah pulled out his pistol and leveled it at Dutch's head. Dutch moved to grab his pistol, but men jumped towards Arthur and Charlotte and grabbed them from behind. Dutch held back once they had knives to Arthur's and Charlotte's throats. Arthur was on his knees, struggling against the arm against his throat. He felt the pinprick of the knife and felt a drop of blood seep down his neck.
Micah walked around Dutch liked a predator. "Well, this is a quite the series of events," he began. He motioned for two men to grab Dutch; they took Dutch's weapons and had his hands quickly tied behind his back. "What? No speech from the mighty Dutch? No words of enlightenment?"
"I trusted you-" Dutch started.
"And I trusted and believed in you! Until the Pinkertons got my hide. Your life for mine, Dutch. It had to come to this." Micah waved his pistol back and forth between Dutch and Arthur. "The Pinkertons were supposed to get you!" he shouted at Arthur.
Arthur could as easily pull his weapon and shoot the man holding him in the jaw. But it was the risk of Charlotte's life. He didn't bother to grab it. "I got the Pinkertons instead. They ain't gonna be happy about their dead men." He looked around for Bill and Javier. He found Bill standing at the back of the men with an astonished, pale look on his face. Javier was nowhere to be seen.
"Micah," Bill finally spoke up. He was the thinnest Arthur had ever seen him. Even though it had been around a month since they had last seen each other, the van der Linde gang must have been through some difficult times. Bill moved to the front of the men. "What do you mean by all this? Dutch ain't done nothin' but support you-"
Micah took one step forward and shot him point blank in the chest. Everyone was silent for a moment, then Bill dropped to his knees with a blank look on his face and toppled to his side.
Arthur jerked forward in surprise and Dutch pulled against the men holding him, raging curses at Micah. "You bastard! Out of everything I have done for YOU, because I trusted YOU!"
A horse neighed and could be heard galloping down the mountain path. The men made their way to the edge of the mountain and fired at Javier who had taken Roy. By the sound of their groans, they had missed shooting him as he escaped down the mountain.
"Let him go!" Micah spat. "Tie these three up. You - ride out to the Pinkertons and tell them we have them all." The tall guard ran off towards one of their horses to get it ready to leave.
Arthur struggled against the three men who held him down. One undid his belt and took his guns away while the other two held his arms as they tied a rope around his wrists and his ankles. They did the same to Dutch, who was seething with rage. It took many men to hold him down and tie him up.
They dragged the three captives closer to the campfire and arranged them so they were all sitting back to back. Micah and a few of his men disappeared inside of Dutch's tent, most likely to discuss their next course of action.
Arthur's vision began dancing in front of him and he leaned to one side, breathing deeply, each breath straining more than the last.
"Arthur! Stay with me," Charlotte demanded. "You can't die here!"
"I ain't… it gotta pass…" Arthur said through tight breaths. He hacked a few times and spit out blood. His illness was making itself apparent in more frequent waves. But he couldn't let himself die yet. He had to make sure Charlotte and Dutch were safe.
"You're Dutch, right?" Charlotte asked the older man with vigor. "You son of a bitch, you abandoned him-"
"Charlotte!" Arthur wheezed. He had never heard her use an ounce of language before. "It don't matter no more."
"You're dying because of him!" Charlotte sat up straight, her features all scrunched up in anger. "Do you know that, Dutch?"
Dutch was leaning forward, his shoulders hunched in defeat. His gaze was focused on Bill, who still lay on his side, the blood soaking the dirt. Nobody had bothered to move his body. "I…"
Arthur cleared his throat. "Charlotte. Let me handle this. Christsakes, you sound like Sadie."
"I don't have her temper but this has been a TRYING FEW DAYS!" Charlotte screamed. She took a few breaths and suddenly seemed embarrassed for her outburst. "I'm sorry, Arthur." She bowed her head and began to silently sob.
"I don't want to say this, Dutch," Arthur muttered. He turned his head toward the man.
"Then don't," Dutch responded curtly.
Arthur kept his voice low. "I told you so."
"That is clear, isn't it?"
"What are we going to do?"
"What can we do?" Dutch whispered back with fury. "I don't have any men!"
"You have me! As you always have!"
That shut Dutch up. He looked away and let out a sad chuckle. "Apparently so. And what good will that do us now? You aren't yourself, Arthur. And I am sorry for that. But the way things are looking, this isn't going to work in our favor. We lost, son."
"Oh? You took Micah's betrayal that hard?" Arthur said. He couldn't keep the contempt out of his voice. "You still ain't the Dutch I know. The Dutch who wouldn't accept defeat. What's wrong with you?"
"Do you know how hard it is to see your family walk out on you? First it was Molly. You left with John. And then everybody followed, one by one."
"Because you kept followin' a fool's plan, Dutch! We woulda kept dyin' off, one by one. Now all of us? We safe. Considerin' Micah haven't given up every location. He ratted you out, Dutch. I was tortured and still defended you. I always been loyal to you."
Dutch let out a long sigh. "I know that now, son."
Their conversation turned quiet as they watched the men go about their business throughout the camp. They started tearing down the tents and packing up the supplies on their horses, meaning they were going to move soon. Arthur silently hoped Javier hadn't just ran - he hoped he had ran off to find help. He was beginning to regret not bringing along John and Sadie, but it might just be a factor that'll help him if they manage to find him. If he knew Sadie, she would have followed him no matter what.
Micah moved out of the tent and stormed around without looking at the three of them. Arthur wasn't surprised he didn't see any guilt from the man - Micah was purely a person who looked after himself.
One of the more heavyset grunts went over to Charlotte and pulled her up by the arm. She screamed in pain as he yanked her along. "Hey, Micah? Can we play with her now?" He tossed Charlotte at another grunt, who caught her with a laugh. His hands didn't hesitate with groping her breast.
Arthur shot up and stumbled against the rope around his feet. "Don't you touch her!" he growled.
"We don't have time, and we gotta give her unharmed to the Pinkertons," Micah said mournfully. "Sit her down. We gotta get up and leave."
"Pity," the grunt said who was holding her. He pushed Charlotte to the ground next to Arthur and moved along.
Charlotte leaned against the wet ground and murmured, "I wanna go home, Arthur. Take me home. Please."
"Don't you worry, Charlotte. You can trust me." Arthur wanted to comfort her further, but in his tied up state, he didn't know how.
"One thing before we go," Micah called out once everybody was packed and ready to leave. His eyes landed on Arthur. "Pick him up."
Two grunts grabbed Arthur by the arms and moved him to stand up. His body had little will to fight back.
Micah stepped in front of him and crossed his arms. "You ain't lookin' too hot, cowpoke. The free life too much for you?" Micah taunted him. "From the looks of things, I still came out on top."
"Because you a backstabbin' bastard."
"True. That is true. But I do agree that this is the best plan of them all! Do you know how much I'll be gettin' for the both of you? It's a pity I didn't get that boy Marston, but I'll take what I can get." Micah moved and punched Arthur in the gut in one swift movement.
Arthur leaned forward, gasping for air. Pain shuttered throughout his stomach and he nearly toppled to his knees. The men holding his arms kept him standing.
"I been wantin' to do this ever since I saw your goddamn face!" Micah roared and punched him twice more in the stomach. "You goddamn, self-righteous bastard!" He brought a fist to Arthur's face, which made Arthur's knees buckle. The men dropped him and he passed out before he hit the ground.