CW: Animal Death

I might edit this chapter later. Dutch's POV is really hard to get right, and I'm not entirely satisfied with it. I feel like Dutch struggles with the risk and sacrifice. How much is he willing to risk to uphold his ideals vs how much of his ideals is he willing to sacrifice to mitigate risk. He's never able to truly strike a balance, and it can turn him into a hypocrite as he tries to figure it out. I like to think that early in the gang, people were worth more to Dutch than ideals and philosophies.

Chapter 21: Arrested

They shot Nero out from under him. He thought he was finally starting to lose the law, seeing as the majority of the lawmen and local bounty hunters that had sprung into action as soon as they entered the bank had fallen behind or been killed. He didn't notice how close the last two had gotten. His poor horse. He was forced to put a bullet in his horse's head, but at least it was quick.

But now Dutch was on foot, weaving through the trees with his saddlebag full of gold slung over his shoulder, listening to the shouts of the bounty hunters getting closer and closer. Until the lasso fell over his shoulders.

"Gotcha!"

The bounty hunter yanked back on the lasso. The rope tightened around his body as he fell, and pain shot up his back when he landed on the ground. He didn't even get a second for recovery, because the bounty hunter flipped him over, binding his arms and legs.

Dutch hoped Annabelle and Davey were fairing better than he was. When he last saw them, Annabelle had a few lawmen on her tail, but Davey only had one. Dutch was confident that Davey would get John back to camp. Susan would know what to do. Susan, and hopefully Hosea was there. And sober.

And Annabelle could outrun the lawmen on Leo. She told him to trust her, and he did. But things went wrong all the time, as he was getting proof of at the moment. Once the others were all back, they'd realize that Dutch was missing and in trouble. They were taking him alive. He had time.

He would just have to deal with annoying bounty hunters until they did.

"Look at that! The leader of the Van der Linde gang," the leader said. "The name's Joe Hayward. You remember that when they put you on the gallows."

"How could I forget?" Dutch groaned. "Tell me, how much am I worth these days? It's been a while since I checked the posters."

"Feds are willing to pay two thousand for you," Hayward said. "As soon as the sheriff got tipped off about that bank robbery, he started calling us in."

So, someone informed the sheriff. Dutch had considered the idea with how fast the law appeared at the bank. Had they been sloppy in their planning? They'd certainly robbed enough banks to know what to do. Maybe they'd been recognized in town. "One thousand dollars each," Dutch said, as if he was simply discussing the weather. "That will set you up nicely."

"There's three of us, actually."

"Oh, and where is the other? Off chasing one of my friends?"

"Naw, they ain't worth chasing. Those other bounty hunters are new, still figuring out this business. We've been on your gang's trail for a while, Van der Linde. Once word of the failed bank job reaches your camp, they'll start trying to track you down. That's when my friend will grab Mr. Matthews."

They hadn't been that sloppy, had they? They'd picked up a few bounties in Missouri, sure, but they'd broken free from the bounty hunters following them. Made it across the border, been in town for a while. Dutch shifted, testing the ropes while Hayward grabbed his horse. But the ropes were tied well, and soon enough Hayward was back. He whacked Dutch in the back of the head with a rifle and hauled him over the rump of his horse. Completely undignified. And on top of that, the bounty hunters picked up the saddlebag of gold, counting it out.

"Even better payday," Hayward cheered, handing the saddlebag to his friend.

"So, you men aren't completely honest yourselves, are you?" Dutch said into the horse's hindquarters, his head still spinning.

"The bounty is for you, Van der Linde. Posters don't say anything about the money."

"How very like the government you are," Dutch mused as Hayward kicked his horse into a trot. Laying over the back of a horse was not comfortable. "Using your position for your own gain."

"Morality lessons from an outlaw? I guess I should have expected that, given the stories from our friend."

The friend met him. Where? The saloon? Dutch did talk to a lot of people.

"Yeah, Peter told us all about you."

Dutch froze, all the air rushing out of his lungs. "Peter Morrison?"

"You didn't know about that one, did you? The great outlaw doesn't even know he has a rat in the camp," Hayward laughed. The other bounty hunter, who had introduced himself as Hayward's cousin, Eddie, chuckled along. "Yeah, he said you've got a bunch of crazy folk following your philosophies. All Peter had to do was play along, and you welcomed him right in. Too easy!"

Peter was a rat. A rat was in his camp, with his family! With John, who was hurt bad. Little Isaac, and Arthur. Annabelle.

It would be okay, though. Annabelle and Davey would make it back! They were smarter than these foolish bounty hunters. Hosea wouldn't panic… but then again, he didn't know what Hosea would do. Arthur had been taking care of him since Bessie's death, and he was getting better. But now, especially with John's life in danger?

Arthur, then. Arthur would take charge, keep everyone together. No need to panic at all. They'd broken their family out of prison before, he just had to be patient. Wait. Have faith.

If only waiting weren't so damn nerve-wracking. Being tied up, the ropes digging into his wrists and ankles. All control taken from him by a stupid lasso.

"A flawless plan. No snags so far?" Dutch said, digging a little deeper.

"Just the one. Peter thought he was going to be on the job with you. You know, to keep things from getting out of hand. But no, you decided to put your girlfriend in charge!"

And then he was dumped on the ground, dragged to a tree, and tied up in a different way. Great. He sighed, leaning his head back against the rough bark. "Big payday, isn't it? And how will you be spending it?"

"I ain't playing this game with you."

"You see, I was going to split the money as well. Half to my gang, and half to the people of this town. The farmer on just across the railway who took a loan to cover a bad harvest, the single mother with her three young children barely scraping by."

"Enough out of you," Hayward said, shoving a gag into Dutch's mouth. "I don't want to hear it, and you ain't getting in my head. You can be quiet until we take you to the law."

Dutch let his head fall heavily into the tree. So much for talking his way out of the ropes. Doomed to wait. And waiting was so boring, so Dutch started to work at the ropes around his wrists. Nothing was indestructible, and he just needed time. It seemed like he was getting plenty of it. Hayward paced back and forth in the camp, checking his pocket watch again and again. Dutch smirked, just a little around the gag. Peter was late.

"What the fuck are you smiling about?" Hayward said.

Dutch shrugged, stilling his hands.

Hayward punched him in the face, and Dutch fell sideways in his ropes. "That's right. You ain't smiling about nothing," he said, going back to his pacing.

The rope slipped. Just a little with his added weight on the side. "Hey, Joe?" Eddie said. "I think this feller was trying to escape."

"Really now?" Hayward said. He marched up to Dutch and ripped the gag out of his mouth. "My cousin right? You trying to run from us?"

"No, sir," Dutch said.

"Then how come these ropes are loose?"

"Perhaps you boys need to learn how to tie better knots."

Dutch knew those words would only bring him trouble, but he couldn't help himself. He grunted when the fist slammed into his stomach. Eddie cut the ropes keeping Dutch tied to the tree and dragged him up. Dutch scrambled to get his feet back under himself when the distinct click of Hayward pulling back the hammer of his revolver forced him to freeze. "You listen here," Hayward said. "I like bringing in bounties alive, more money, but I ain't above shooting you and bringing you in dead."

"You wouldn't shoot an unarmed prisoner," Dutch said. Most men wouldn't, but he wasn't sure about these bounty hunters. They didn't seem to care much about the laws they were working to uphold.

"Law won't care. They'll just think I shot you in pursuit, won't even ask questions."

Dutch swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry as Hayward pushed the revolver closer to his eye. Even the forest was holding its breath. The leaves stilled and the birds lost their song.

Behind Hayward, a horse braved to make noise, weaving its way through the trees towards the camp. Hayward holstered his revolver. "Finally, that must be Peter!"

It wasn't Peter. Dutch tried to keep his face neutral as Boadicea stepped into the firelight and Arthur, with a cheery voice, said, "Howdy, fellers. I think I've got turned around in here, mind directing me- whoa, what are you doing to that guy?"

"Back off, you moron!" Hayward said. "We're bounty hunters, and this man is a criminal."

"Ain't what it looks like to me," Arthur said. "Looks like you are about to murder a man. You boys got bounty hunting licenses?"

"Why?" Hayward shouted.

"Because I'm thinking I need to go get the law," said Arthur. "Anyone can claim to be a bounty hunter."

Hayward opened his mouth to argue more, but Eddie said, "Let's just show him, Joe."

"Yeah, Joe," Dutch mocked. "I think I deserve to see them, too."

"Quiet you," Hayward said, but he reached for his bag to get the paperwork, anyway.

He was dead in less than a second. Arthur drew his cattleman as soon as Hayward's eyes were off him, firing once into his head and doing to same to Eddie before the bounty hunter could react. Dutch was dragged down with him.

Arthur ran to his side, getting the ropes off his wrists. "You alright, Dutch?"

"It's good to see you, Arthur," Dutch sighed, taking a moment to get his breath back. "Everyone make it back?"

"You're the only one we were missing," Arthur said, giving him a hand up.

"John?"

Arthur hesitated. "Susan and Hosea are looking after him. Got the bullet out."

"Hosea is still in camp, right?"

"Yeah, he's not leaving John's side."

"What about Peter?"

"Should be in camp, too. Why?"

"He's a traitor," Dutch said. "He was working with the bounty hunters."

"Shit," Arthur said. "Annabelle thought there was something wrong with how the law showed up. Peter kept trying to leave camp, saying we had to go find you. Wanted Hosea to go with him."

"He better not get any ideas of sneaking off."

"I told the Mac to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't do anything stupid."

"Good," Dutch said. Arthur collected Dutch's guns and the saddlebag of gold, directing him towards Boadicea. Dutch paused, just staring at her.

"You okay, Dutch?"

"They killed Nero," he said.

"I know." Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. "I found him. I'm real sorry, he was a good horse."

"That he was," Dutch agreed, gingerly mounting Boadicea and sliding back onto her rump. Normally he'd do everything in his power to ride by himself. It would be easy to track down the bounty hunters' horses, but his head was still pounding from getting hit and there were bruises forming from his earlier fall. He was glad to have someone else take the reins for a while. And he trusted Arthur to get him the rest of the way home.

Arthur understood, but couldn't help a little light teasing. "You just relax, Dutch, and let me do the rest of the work."

Dutch huffed. "Take your time, no rush. You don't seem like you're in a hurry."

"Well, sorry I took so long. Seems like your famous Dutch charm was about to get you a bullet."

"Oh, they weren't going to shoot me."

"Sure."

"Just some basic intimidation."

"Of course."

"Though, I'm very glad you can still quick draw," Dutch said, leaning more heavily into Arthur's back.

Arthur kept up a decent pace back to camp, but he weaved through the less-traveled paths to avoid any law or bounty hunters in the area. Dutch tried to remain calm, but his heart beat frantically with each passing minute. It worsened when they approached camp and heard shouting. Karen was two seconds away from taking Arthur's head off with a shotgun if he hadn't responded to her challenge immediately.

And in the middle of camp, tied up, was Peter Morrison.

"Caught him trying to sneak away, Arthur!" Mac called to them. The entire gang, minus Susan, Hosea, and John, were watching the scene. "He's acting mighty suspicious."

"Oh, I know why he's doing that," Dutch said, sliding out from behind Arthur. "Seems we have a traitor in our midst. Tell me, Mr. Morrison, did you really think your plan would work? You left an awful lot up to chance."

Peter shook, staring up at Dutch with wide eyes. "I- I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" Dutch snarled.

"Didn't want the kid to get shot," Peter said. "I was supposed to be in the bank with you."

"So, this is my fault? My fault that your plan didn't work?"

"I-"

BANG!

Mac jumped back, Peter's blood splattering across his shirt. "Shit!" he cried, looking up at Dutch and the smoking revolver in his hands. The rest of the gang backed away, staring at Dutch in shock.

"Dutch?" Arthur said carefully, trying to get his attention. But Dutch's eyes were blank, staring at Peter's body in the dirt. "Hey, Dutch, it's over. Put the gun down."

Then Annabelle was at his side, pushing his hand down to his side and removing the gun from his grip. "Come on, Dutch. Let's get you cleaned up."

Dutch followed her back to his tent, numb. He killed Peter, just executed that man in the middle of camp. Sure, they'd heavily implied consequences of betraying the gang to its members, but he'd never had to do it before. Did he make the right decision?

Annabelle sat him on his cot, rubbing his back. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Dutch…"

"Just bruises," he sighed, leaning into her. "I'll be fine. How's John?"

"He's doing okay. Davey got him back pretty fast, so now we have to hope for the best."

"I should have known, Anna."

"Should have known what? About Peter?"

"I brought him back to camp. It was my decision."

"Stop that," she said. "None of us had any reason to suspect Peter as a traitor."

"He sought me out at the saloon," Dutch continued. "He knew who I was, knew about the gang. Knew we'd put up a fight. Would have shown his hand in the bank, but no. I wanted John to go."

"We can't control everything that happens. All we can do is our best," Annabelle said.

"But our best isn't good enough!" Dutch said. "I have to be better. This family needs me to be better. I can't be constantly worrying about traitors in our gang or our family getting shot by O'Driscolls, or if I'm making the right call. I just want everyone to be safe, Anna."

"I get that, Dutch, I do. But this life isn't safe."

"Then maybe…" he swallowed, turning away. "Maybe it's time we got that ranch."

"You serious?" she asked.

"Yes. I want us all to be safe, Anna. To have a place of our own. I know we've talked about this before, but I think we can do it. We just need enough money."

"You realize that to get the money, we need to either get a huge bank loan or rob a whole lot of folk."

"I know."

"And robberies can go wrong, Dutch. We got a lesson in that today. Could you live with that? If things went wrong?"

"I don't know," Dutch said honestly.

"Neither do I," Annabelle said, wrapping an arm around his middle.

He leaned into her more, closing his eyes with a tired sigh. "I've missed you, Anna."

"I've missed you, too," she said. Dutch smiled up at her, leaning in, but she turned away. "But if we're going to do this, the ranch I mean, then you need to let everyone help. Whether it's chores around here, or helping Arthur, or working jobs, you have to let them make their own choices. And understand the risk. Can you do that?"

Dutch didn't want to risk losing Annabelle. He'd come close to it when he killed Connor O'Driscoll, and Arthur was the one who paid the price. When they saw the O'Driscolls again in Oregon, he knew Colm had been targeting Annabelle and Hosea with his shots, desiring Dutch's suffering more than his life. He didn't want to lose anyone. "I don't know," he said again.

"Something to think about I guess," she said.

Was their freedom worth the potential of losing friends? Dutch couldn't decide. He wanted to believe it would never come to that, but in his heart he knew that no freedom was ever gained without casualties. It seemed so simple, picking out an empty corner of the world just for themselves. But the government made nothing simple. One day, they would decide that the land was theirs. They'd assign a piece of paper to it and claim they were owed something, and kill anyone who disagreed. Dutch hated that their freedom from society depended on a small amount of participation in it, but what choice did he have? Did any of them have?

The questions and fears spun and swirled around in his mind, building in power and gathering more, like the tornado he'd once seen in Nebraska so very long ago. Annabelle and Hosea were the only people he trusted to calm the storm, but first he had to do something else. "I'd like to see John," Dutch said. "I need to check on him."

"I do, too," Annabelle said, standing up with him. "Let's sit with him for a bit. And then we can talk more."

When they entered the tent, Hosea was hunched over John's cot, his sobbing sending a wave of fear through Dutch's chest. But John very much was alive, sweating and panting and fighting through his injury even in sleep. Hosea looked up when Dutch cleared his throat.

"I should have been looking out for him," Hosea cried.

"Hosea, this isn't-"

"I haven't been around, I know, but I should have!"

"Hosea, stop! This isn't on you," Dutch said. "And you're here now. We're going to take care of John, together."

Hosea nodded, wiping away a few tears. "We cleaned and packed the wound as best we could. We need to watch for infection. Gut wounds are messy, Dutch, if something gets in there-"

"It won't," Dutch said. "We won't let it. Besides, John is too stubborn to let something like a bullet slow him down."

And god, he hoped he was right.

He wrapped his arm around Hosea's shoulders, pulling his best friend close. They had a lot to talk about.