A long time ago
We used to be friends
But I haven't thought of you lately at all
If ever again.
- The Dandy Warhols
They rode away from Beaver Hollow in a loose group, Dutch in the lead. This time, Rane noticed that Arthur wasn't beside him, nor John; it was Micah, astride his dark Fox Trotter, his back straight and his expression haughty. The cards were being shuffled right in front of them, plain as you please.
"What do you make of all this?" Sadie asked, pacing her horse with Rane and Arthur. "This train job, I mean? I ain't never done a train job with you fellers before and I gotta say, this is all makin' me a little bit nervous. Seems sloppy, the way we're goin' about it."
"I think that when you're fourth down and a hundred to go, you don't call a running play up the middle," said Rane, low and grim.
Sadie gaped at her. So did Arthur and John.
"The fuck are you talking about?" said John at length.
"Yeah, that don't make no damn sense," Arthur agreed, bewildered.
Rane gestured, looking displeased. "It's football. You guys don't know football? The hell's wrong with you?"
The three of them looked at her with complete perplexity. Rane scoffed derisively.
"I think what he's doing is desperate and stupid," she amended. "This is a dumb idea. As I've mentioned to both of you guys," she added, eyeing Arthur and John. "I'm not a military strategist or anything, but the whole 'being quiet so we can get out of here' plan seems to clash against this one a little bit."
"Yeah, but the money -" John began.
"Oh, yeah, the money!" Rane agreed, putting on a fairly decent impression of Dutch. "The money, just one more score! Then we can head off to Tahiti! Or Australia! Or some fucking place! I got a plan, I swear I got one, just have some faith! Everybody just suck my dick and kiss my ass for a little bit longer and you'll be living the dream! Right?"
Sadie snorted into her forearm. John and Arthur looked less amused.
"That ain't funny," said John, glaring ahead solemnly. "This isn't a joke."
"It is a joke, actually, a good one," said Rane, low. "The joke is that you guys actually believe him."
"Alright, well." Sadie looked around at the three of them. "Maybe we oughta just focus on the job, so we don't shit the bed, huh?"
"Yeah, let's not shit the bed," said Rane sardonically, leaning back in Eli's saddle. "Shitting the bed, oh boy, that's the last thing we wanna do, right?"
"Rane, quit it," said Arthur, low.
"Why? This whole operation is fugazi. You guys act like the dude is dropping dimes when he's actually setting you all up to get shot on an Army train, the whole premise of this is goddamned ridiculous and it doesn't take a fucking neuropathologist to spot it." Rane was looking at him fiercely. "He's not in his right mind, Arthur, you know it just as well as I do. Your trust is misfounded, darlin', and one of these days you're gonna have to face the music about it."
"Look, can we just -" Arthur waved a hand, looking a little distressed. "Can we just put this talk away for a minute? We got a job to do, and I can't be havin' this conversation half an hour before we do it. All this shit is hard enough as it is."
Rane looked at him a moment longer, then shrugged, turning back to the trail. "You wanna rub some prayer beads, be my guest."
"Look, we got an ace in the hole, and that's you," said John abruptly, looking at her, his gaze hard. "Help us get through this shit and we'll move forward from there, alright? Christ, why do you always have to be so goddamned glib about everything?"
Rane watched him, a little chastened, then shook her head, reshuffling her grip on Eli's reins.
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"In body if not in spirit," said Arthur, rolling his eyes.
Rane scoffed but offered no response. Up ahead, Dutch raised his voice.
"Alright, let's pick up the pace!" he called, strident. "That train is due in Saint Denis in half an hour!"
"We're gonna rob a train in the middle of a city?" Arthur shouted, frowning.
"Nah, nah, they're just gonna stop there," Dutch replied, not glancing back. "Pick up water and mail and drop off some boys on leave. We'll take what we want later on down the line."
"They know the bridge is blown, Black Lung!" Micah added, glancing over his shoulder at Arthur, his eyes glinting. "There'll be a patrol past Annesburg, waiting down by the river to collect the money!"
"Black Lung?" Rane said loudly, flaring, casting him a perilous look. "Black Lung, dickhead, really?"
"I said what I said, sweetheart," Micah replied, dropping her a rather lecherous wink. "Come talk to me about it later on, why don't ya."
"Fucking -!" Rane dropped her voice, catching Arthur's warning eye. "Fucking asshole!"
"Don't antagonize him, Rane," Arthur muttered sternly. "Remember what I said."
"We sneak on quietly, and then we got a short time to stop the train before it reaches patrol," Dutch was saying.
"What if someone in Saint Denis recognizes us from the bank?" said Rane.
"Then we will deal with them," said Dutch without looking back, his voice grim. "John, you go get that dynamite, we'll meet back up outside Saint Denis."
"Me and Rane'll go with him," said Arthur immediately.
"As you wish!" Dutch cried, glancing over his shoulder, his expression derisive. "You two do what ya want to anyways, don't ya? I wouldn't want you and your lady fair to be separated!"
Arthur glared at Dutch a moment longer, meeting his eyes. Something seemed to pass between them, something almost hostile. Then Arthur jerked his horse to the right, following John and Old Boy as they veered from the path. Rane guided Eli that direction, too, taking her cue.
"Come on, it's this way," John said, waving a hand. "Y'all follow me."
THE three of them rode far enough away from the throng to be out of earshot, then John fell back, pacing Rane and Arthur.
"This is one big goddamned group of us to be ridin' into Saint Denis," John remarked.
"Yep. And I hear Pinkertons took over Van Horn." Arthur scoffed. "It's a damn suicide mission."
"What the hell is Dutch thinkin'?"
"He ain't." Arthur glanced at Rane, who was trotting along beside him. "Do we need to bother with that dynamite, Rane?"
Rane shook her head. "Nah, I got it."
"Alright, well then let's hang back for a few," John replied, heeling Old Boy. "I gotta wrap my head around all this."
"What if you go all funny like before?" said Arthur, eyeing Rane. "We'll be up a creek without a paddle."
"Well then I guess, good sir, that I will have shit the bed," said Rane decorously.
"This ain't no joke," said Arthur, his mouth thin. "Can ya? For sure?"
"Yes." Rane nodded, meeting his gaze. "Stupid of Dutch not to ask me first, honestly. He's got a Howitzer in his hands and he's still going for the flare gun."
"Yeah, well, he's mad at ya," said John, grim. "You'll find that when Dutch gets mad, he tries like hell to scorn ya, even if it means he screws himself along the way."
"Excellent business model," Rane muttered, grimacing. "Sacrifice the self in order to continue looking cool. I see why you guys like him."
"Are Abigail and Jack ready to go?" said Arthur, looking at John.
John shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, just about. Abigail said just now that she found somethin', Arthur, she says Dutch has all the money hid in that cave at Beaver Hollow."
Arthur scoffed skeptically. "He would never, not so close to camp."
"He did." John was nodding. "So much for keepin' it outta sight. He's got it all stashed right under our damn noses. He was gettin' even sloppier than we thought. Tell me that ain't a sign of the times."
"What money?" Rane asked, looking between them.
Arthur shrugged. "Shit, all of it. You don't think we been stockpilin' our stealings and such over the years? Hell, there must be thousands by now." He shook his head, his eyes cold. "And Dutch has got all of it."
"So that's why you can't cut out with Abigail and Jack," said Rane, looking at John. It had all suddenly clicked for her. "Because you don't have the cash."
John shrugged. "Well, I ain't got no trade except killin', and Abigail's retired." He shrugged. "What are we meant to do, you know?"
"Christ." Rane shook her head, revolted. "He's got you guys in a filibuster. That's gross."
"It don't matter," said Arthur, low. "Whatever happens today with this job, you three are gettin' the hell outta here. And you ain't goin' empty handed, either."
"What about you, what are you gonna do?" asked John. He gestured at Rane with one hand. "I assume you're stickin' together, either way."
Arthur passed a hand over his face, sighing deeply and glancing sidelong at Rane. She met his eyes, chewing her lip, her eyes flicking between his.
"We're gonna stick around and see if we can get everybody else out safe," he said. "If we can manage to get away after that, then . . . well, I dunno. I guess we cut out, too. Won't be no use stickin' around here."
"What do you mean, 'if we get away?'" said Rane sharply.
"Well." Arthur shrugged. "I dunno how it's gonna play out, is all. We might all be shoppin' for pine boxes by tomorrow, for all I know."
Rane eyed him introspectively. Arthur snorted.
"Quit lookin' at me that way, you know how I mean."
"Well, don't hurt yourself being optimistic about him." She reeled Eli around, back toward the road. "We should get going, they'll be far enough along by now."
"Yeah," John agreed, glancing at the sky, squinting. The sun was low in the sky now. "Dutch said half an hour, we better get a move on."
THE three of them rode after Dutch and the rest, spurring their horses into a fully fledged gallop to catch up. They caught sight of them on the outskirts of Saint Denis, shuffling about on horseback, watching the road. Rane could see Bill and Javier shielding their eyes from the setting sun's brilliant red rays, watching for the kick of dust at the heels of their hooves.
"Ah, there you lot are!" said Dutch as they drew near, pulling his mount around and beginning toward town proper. "You get what we need?"
"Yeah, just about." Arthur's tone was gruff and unwelcoming again. It was the first time Rane had ever heard him even come close to successfully lying to Dutch, and she found it a little augural, for some reason. The bond between them was hard-forged, from what she could see - Arthur had told her that as a boy he'd learned to read at Dutch's knee, and shoot, and swindle, and be a man - but it was unraveling fast now, like a cut spool of thread. It was a strange thing to witness, something she was helpless to shield him against, and the expression of gentle, camouflaged hurt that flashed over his fact as he spoke was sharp against her heart. He'd been skunked by someone he cared for, probably deeply, and he was reaping the results of his trust now. It was a hateful thing.
"One last time, gentlemen!" Dutch was crying heartily. "I got us a riverboat. We'll head up to Chicago or New York and get us a real boat to the tropics."
"So long as it isn't Guarma," Javier put in, smirking.
"Oh, it'll be paradise, son!" Dutch cried, still sounding positively jolly. Rane thought again of the days after Hosea and Lenny had been gunned down, how positively chuffed he had seemed in spite of it all. "Paradise, I say! You just wait and see!"
"It's all comin' together, Dutch," Micah crowed. "Just like we planned."
"Is that okay with you, John? Arthur? Miss Roth?" Dutch didn't look back, but his jovial, vivacious tone had taken on a cool thread of rancor. "Or do you insist on somethin' different?"
"Sounds about as good now as every time I heard it before," John retorted, his voice betraying a touch of insurgency. Rane felt a rush of warmth towards him at the sound of it.
"Oh, Abigail must be real excited!" Micah cried, laughing. "All packed up like she is! I can just see her in a little grass skirt -!"
"Don't talk to me, you son of a bitch!" John spat, flaring. Micah fell silent, but he cast a taunting look over one shoulder at John, his eyes glittering beneath his hat.
"Boys, boys, okay now, let's keep it down." Dutch raised a hand without looking back, palm down. "We don't wanna draw attention to ourselves."
"Ahh, Saint Denis." Micah took a big, ersatz breath and released it. "Brings back good memories. Don't it, John?"
"Will you shut up, Micah?" Arthur said roughly. "Christ, you are truly incessant!"
"I ain't nothin if I ain't persistent, Black Lung -"
"Shut UP!" Rane said loudly, glaring around. "Jesus Christ , you guys, there are people looking! Shut the fuck up !"
They all hushed. Dutch cast an imperious look back at her over one shoulder, his eyes dark and hard beneath the rim of his hat.
"You don't give orders here, Miss Roth."
Rane cast him a mournful look. "Eat your heart out, baby."
"You keep anglin' for trouble and you might just find it," Dutch said, his voice very low.
"Don't you dare say nothin' back," Arthur hissed quickly as Rane opened her mouth, looking mutinous. "Don't you fuckin' dare."
Rane sank back, turning her eyes to Eli's mane, her knuckles white against the reins. Dutch turned back to the road.
"Just keep your tongue behind your damn teeth for once, baby," Arthur muttered, and reaching out he grasped her thigh briefly, squeezing. "Just a little bit longer, alright?"
"Yeah, okay, fine."
"I love you."
"Well, I'm glad one of us does."
Arthur scoffed, guiding his horse away from her. "You just focus on blowin' shit up and lookin' pretty, howabout that. Leave the difficult shit up to me."
Rane straightened ceremoniously. "My raison d'etre, yes, of course."
"Oh, put your feathers away and quit it." Arthur leaned over, yanked her face to his by the back of her neck and kissed her briefly. "You know what I mean, girl. You're doin' a good job at the second part so far, anyways."
Rane scoffed, smirking at him. "Such a groupie."
"Call it what ya want, I just love ya."
"I love you too. I wouldn't listen to you otherwise. No matter how cute you are." Rane cast him a lopsided grin and spurred Eli on, her hair wavering behind her.
"She needs to get her eyes checked out," John remarked, smirking.
"Oh, shut the hell up!" Arthur snapped, laughing in spite of himself. "Goddamned asshole."
