I keep telling myself I'm going to write the gang a job where things don't go terribly wrong, but that just doesn't seem to be in the spirit of RDR2 lol!
Chapter 20: Banking
"Mr. Marston, how would you like to work the bank job with me," Dutch asked.
"Really?" John said. "The bank job?"
"Of course! It will be you, me, Mac Callander, and our new friend, Peter Morrison."
Peter Morrison must have overheard them talking, because he wandered up to them and said, "This job is perfect! There's almost no law around here."
"There's always some law," Dutch said, "but they do seem rather lackadaisical in this town."
"We're going to be rich!" Peter said.
Dutch met Peter at a bar in town. He'd been a part of a small gang, really only three people, for several years. The gang had a major disagreement not long ago, though John wasn't aware of the details, and Peter decided to split off from the other two.
The gang had gained a lot of new friends, recently. Besides Peter, two girls joined them, Mary-Beth Gaskill and Molly O'Shea. Mary-Beth was only sixteen, and in trouble from a group of men who caught her picking their pockets when Annabelle found her and brought her back. She loved reading romance stories, a subject John did not care for at all. But Molly seemed to have some interest in romance, or at least her looks towards Dutch implied as much. She wasn't shy about her attraction to him. "Do you think Dutch likes me back?" Molly asked Karen one day, in earshot of Annabelle. Not that she would know, but still, it made John uncomfortable.
Karen was quick to inform her of their history, but it didn't deter Molly. Dutch wasn't helping the matter, either, inviting her over and sharing his favorite Evelyn Miller passages to the giggling redhead. It bothered Annabelle, no matter how much she denied it. "We aren't together, he has a right to pursue other women," she said, even as she was grinding her teeth together.
Whenever Molly and Dutch started talking, John couldn't help but wish he'd gone hunting with Arthur and Hosea. The two of them would set out early, sometimes bringing Isaac with them depending on the type of game they were after. Hunting kept Hosea's mind busy, which he greatly needed. By the time they hauled the pelts and meat in, Hosea and Arthur were exhausted, and Hosea was less likely to drink. He still did, sometimes, on nights when the activity waned and the grief set in once again. But he was getting better. Just not well enough for a bank robbery yet.
Dutch was telling John about everything he knew about the small town Kansas bank when Annabelle came up to them and asked, "You aren't trying to poach my job, are you?"
"Anna. This is a bank," Dutch said. "It's not an easy job."
"I'm aware. And I've done all the work scouting the bank, checking on the guards, the responsiveness of the law."
"And you did well, but-"
"But what?" Annabelle said, crossing her arms. "You need more experience to rob a bank? And that's why you are taking John and Peter?"
"And what would you have me do?" Dutch asked.
"I think the people who have done all the work should decide who goes on the job," she said.
Dutch and Annabelle continued their staring contest. John really wished he had gone with Arthur.
"Well then, Annabelle, who would you recommend for the job?"
"Myself."
"Of course you would."
"Davey and Mac, too."
"I would bring a fourth on a job like this," Dutch continued.
"Then John, since you believe he is ready."
"You know, Mr. Morrison was the one who steered us towards the bank in the first place."
"He'll have his chances for a job, I'm sure."
"Fine. How about we make a deal," Dutch said. "You can run this bank job. But you'll do it with me."
Annabelle considered the idea, her eyes narrowing at Dutch. "Fine. Do you still want John on the job?"
"Yes."
"Then I want Davey."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Annabelle turned and left.
"You don't have to bring me on this job you know," John said, his excitement gone. Maybe there was still a chance to get out of it.
"You'll do great, John," Dutch said, patting him on the shoulder.
Dammit. Where was Arthur when he needed him?
But Hosea needed Arthur more at the moment. John knew that, but he still missed having his brother around. That, and he knew something was going on with Arthur and Mary. Arthur said he was fine after seeing her, but then he got a letter a week ago, with something tiny inside. John didn't see what it was, but Arthur stared at it a long time before slipping it into his satchel.
Later, when Arthur returned, John shared his latest plight with him. Arthur just laughed and said, "Well, you wanted to work a big job, didn't you?"
"But not like this. Not with Anna and Dutch fighting with each other the whole way!"
"Get someone to trade with you then."
"I wish. But Dutch is all excited because it will be my first bank job, so he won't let me out of it!"
"Fake an illness?"
"Then I'd have to deal with Miss Grimshaw." John tried faking illness once, when he wanted to get out of camp chores. Looking back, Miss Grimshaw knew he wasn't actually sick. She took great pleasure in forcing a myriad of disgusting teas and tonics down his throat and sitting with him to make sure he didn't sneak out of his tent. By the next day, he was bored out of his mind and swearing that he'd undergone a miraculous recovery, but still she went through the motions of checking his forehead and confining him to his bed for a couple of hours before releasing him to do the dishes.
"Guess you're stuck with it, John," Arthur said, his smile wide. "You'll be fine. It won't be like waiting around for a stagecoach. You get in and out, silent and quick. Dutch and Anna won't have time for a fight."
"They'll make time," John grumbled.
"I know. It's been rough," Arthur said. "What even happened between them? Didn't it start while you were leaving Oregon?"
"I don't know. They were fine. If they were fighting, they were doing it in private."
Arthur sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Bessie would set them right. She'd drag them out of camp for a talk and that would be the end of it. I wish I knew her secret."
"Maybe Hosea knows what to do," said John.
Arthur turned to look at Hosea, chatting with Mary-Beth. "I don't want to ask him. He's been better lately, I don't want to bring anything up, you know?" Bringing up Bessie in camp usually brought Hosea to tears, so the camp avoided saying her name when Hosea was around. John hated it. He wanted to talk about Bessie. He was still grieving, too.
"I guess. I miss Bessie. It don't feel the same without her here. And it's like Hosea isn't here, either, most days."
"I know it don't always seem like it, but he is getting better, John. I promise. Maybe celebrating a big, successful job will help him out, too. Just don't mess it up."
"Hey, I'm not going to mess up!"
"You sure? It is your first bank."
"Shut up, Arthur!" John said, storming off to the sound of Arthur's roaring laughter.
Despite John's fears, the planning stage of the robbery did not descend into chaos. Though he supposed there were only a few ways to rob a bank. John worried that Annabelle and Dutch would send him to be just the lookout or the distraction outside the bank, but Annabelle insisted that he was to be on crowd control with Dutch. For a second, John thought that the assigned role would end Dutch's patient approach, but the gang leader relented. He was seething, but he relented.
News of the upcoming robbery spread through the gang, and the excitement for a big payday was high. The only person who seemed disappointed was Peter Morrison, since he'd wanted to go on the job. John overheard a shouting match between Dutch and Peter about it at the edge of camp, which resulted in Peter storming off for a few hours. He seemed to accept it by the time he returned, saying to John, "Guess you have seniority, even if you are just a kid."
"I'm eighteen," John replied.
"Exactly, still just a kid," Peter said, suddenly unable to meet John's eyes. "Just be careful out there, alright?"
"Yeah, okay."
Then the day arrived. John was so nervous and excited for the job that he didn't get enough sleep. Dutch watched him chug coffee and scarf down breakfast with a knowing smile. "Ready, son?"
"I think so."
"Have a bit of faith, John. I know you are ready. We'll be in and out so fast they won't even know what hit them. And the money? We'll be able to help out that farmer I told you about, and maybe a few others. And our family be set up nicely for a while."
"Can I go with you? When you give them the money?"
"Sure, son. Once things have calmed down with the law and it's safe, we will go. And if our luck holds, and our bandannas stay on, no one will recognize our faces. You're lucky, John. You don't have any scars or defining features. They'll never get your face right."
"Gee, Dutch, that's a nice way to say he's ugly," Arthur said, grabbing some cans off the food wagon.
"Now, Arthur, that wasn't what I was saying-"
"You'll be fine, John. Hosea and I will be back for the party," Arthur said, heading over to Hosea and the horses.
"Now then, let's get those clothes on," Dutch said, throwing the shotgun coat at John. Why they had to dress up fancy to go rob a bank, John didn't know. Dutch said that it made the group look distinguished and therefore less suspicious. John thought the opposite. Matching clothes were too suspicious.
At least Annabelle got to wear something different.
They rode slow once in town, surveying it one last time for lawmen and leaving their horses at the end of the road. John's heart thundered in his chest as he followed Davey to the bank's side door while Dutch and Annabelle went to the front.
"Ready?" she muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. John and Davey nodded, and Annabelle kicked the door open. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery. Get on the ground, keep your hands visible, and you won't be harmed! Now, who is the manager here? Speak up!"
The shaking manager raised his hands slightly, and Annabelle leveled her pistol between his eyes. "Open the vault," she said.
"I can't!"
"Can't, or won't?" she asked. "I think my friend can figure out that answer. Mr. C, if you will?"
Annabelle gestured to Davey. Davey punched the bank manager in the face. "The lady said to open the vault!" he said.
The manager immediately began to turn the lock.
John kept an eye out for any bank patrons that tried to move, but no one did. At first. In the back, he could hear Davey shouting and cursing at the bank manager, and then the heavy sound of the gun hitting the man over the head. Dutch heard it, too, turning to shout, "Everything alright back there?"
"We're fine, Mr. V!" Annabelle said. "Just do your job."
Dutch turned to John. "Keep an eye on them." Dutch started towards the vault, but he paused at the sound of the vault door dragging it's way across the uneven floor. Davey let out an excited whoop as he began shoving cash and gold into the bag. "There's at least a couple thousand here!" he shouted out of the vault. And that was when it happened. John, focused on the bank patrons, didn't notice the lawmen sneaking up along the side of the bank. They should have been vigilant, but maybe it was the excitement of a job going smoothly. No one had even fired a weapon yet. Dutch shouted to Davey to hurry up when the door burst open. John didn't have enough time to react. The lawman raised his gun at him and fired.
He screamed as the bullet tore into his abdomen. He collapsed, his gun clattering to the ground next to him. Two more shots fired.
"John!" Dutch shouted, abandoning the pretense of hiding their identities. John's vision faded in and out as Dutch's hands hovered over the wound. "Breath, John, it's going to be okay. We need to put pressure on it. Keep breathing, son, it's okay!"
Dutch pressed his hands over the wound, and John gasped, his back arching and eyes darting around the bank. Another silhouette appeared in the doorway, and he managed to say, "Behind you!"
"Shit!" Dutch spun around, one hand drawing his Schofield revolver and firing at the door while the other stayed on John's stomach. The lawman dropped to the ground dead.
"Mr. Van der Linde!" the sheriff called from across the street, deciding not to approach again. "We have the bank surrounded. You and your associates come out with your hands up! No one needs to die."
Annabelle ran over to them, her head ducked low. "How the fuck did they know?" she whispered.
"I don't know," Dutch said.
"John, you okay? How are you doing?" Annabelle asked.
He let out a groan. He'd never been shot before, but it was terrible. He couldn't focus on anything. Was that normal? He was sweating and shaking, too, his pain only amplified by Dutch's attempts to keep the blood in his stomach.
"How many are out there?" Davey asked.
Dutch peaked over the windowsill, and ducked back down fast before more bullets could fly. "At least a eight. They said they surrounded the building, so probably more. Okay, we need a plan. We need to get John out of here, now."
"We should split up," Annabelle said. "One of us takes John, the others take the money and try to lead the law away."
"Right, we need to get to the horses. Davey, can you carry John?"
"Yeah, I got him." Davey started to slide his arms under John, but it hurt. He tried to shift away, curling in on himself.
"John, it's alright, you can get through this," Annabelle said. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Anna, you go first. You and I will cover Davey while he gets John to the horses. You should take him on Leo, he's fastest. Shake the law, and get back to camp."
"No," Annabelle said. "Leo's too small for two people!"
"Anna, you can't be serious!" Dutch said.
John coughed, swinging his hand to grab Dutch's shoulder. "Will you two quit it?"
"Moose is stronger, and he can run fast, too. Davey can take John, and I'll lead the law away. Leo will outrun any lawman here."
Dutch stared at her, frozen, even as the lawmen got closer to the bank. John watched him, too, his eyes wide and pleading.
"Trust me," she said.
"Okay," Dutch finally said. "Okay. Davey, get him up."
John's vision swam as Davey hauled him over his shoulder. Guns fired all around them as Davey sprinted and threw John into the saddle, mounting up and wrapping an arm around John to steady him. "Hang on, John, you're going to be fine!"
John wasn't sure he believed him, and just let himself pass out.