This chapter is brought to you by my foresight to stay two chapters ahead in my writing, so when I run off to Maine for a week, I still have a chapter I can post haha! I guess I have to write extra this week to get back on track...

Chapter 22: The Plan

Arthur spent most of the night calming Isaac. His son hadn't seen Dutch shoot Morrison, but he heard it. "But why did Dutch kill him?" Isaac asked, tears falling from his eyes. "I thought he was our friend."

Arthur hugged Isaac close to himself. "Because Peter betrayed us. He told the law about Dutch's plan to rob the bank and John got hurt."

"But what if Peter didn't want to hurt us! He was nice. What if it was just an accident?"

"It wasn't an accident, Isaac. Peter told us he meant to do it."

"But Pa? What if it was an accident? Would Dutch still…"

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked gently.

"Like what if you were just talking to someone and you didn't know they were the law? Or they tricked you and you told them?"

"Well, then that is an accident, and Dutch would understand." At least, Arthur hoped Dutch would understand. He barely let Morrison talk before pulling the trigger. After Isaac finally went to sleep, Arthur stayed up to write in his journal about his annoyance at Dutch for not taking the horribly necessary parts of their business outside the camp where it belonged. Isaac was too young to know about that.

He managed a few hours of sleep himself before going back to work. First task was finding a new place to camp. They couldn't risk that Morrison hadn't told any lawmen about the camp's location, so it was time to move on. He and Dutch surveyed the maps of the surrounding towns before selecting a few possibilities. Annabelle was there too, standing very close to Dutch. Arthur knew they had talked for a long time after checking in on John. Talked, and other things. Isaac slept through that, thankfully. Arthur wasn't so lucky. He just hoped they were actually getting back together, not releasing a little tension after a near-death experience.

Arthur rode out with Mac, finding an abandoned homestead far off the main road that they could occupy for the time. The gang began packing up their wagons, and Arthur sat with John to give Hosea a break, though the older man didn't go too far, instead dragging his own bedroll into John's tent for a nap.

At least he was getting sleep. Arthur was exhausted, but he diligently cooled John's forehead throughout the day while his little brother shifted and groaned. Susan checked in on him, too, insisting that John was doing well, all things considered. Arthur hoped it was true. Gut wounds could be messy, but so far John had escaped infection.

Finally, just before they were ready to load him into the wagon, John opened his eyes. "Arthur?" he croaked, trying to sit up. He made it an inch above the cot before collapsing back with a hiss.

"Don't try to move, just lay there," Arthur said. "You are one lucky kid, you know that?"

"I got shot, Arthur," John said.

"And you're still breathing, ain't yah?" Arthur said. "Things are going to be okay."

"Everyone else alright?" John asked.

"Yeah. They got out, too. Except…"

"Except what?" John asked. Arthur hesitated, not sure if he wanted to burden John with the truth so soon, but John asked again, "What happened?"

"Morrison betrayed the gang," Arthur said. "He was a bounty hunter, trying to get Dutch."

"Jesus. How'd you find out?"

"Dutch had a fun run-in with his friends. I had to go rescue him," Arthur smirked. "Don't let him tell you otherwise. He's been going on and on about how he would have talked his way out of it if I'd given him a few more minutes."

John let out a laugh and winced. "Can't admit he needed rescuing, can he?"

"Aw, he'll never admit that!"

"What happened to Peter?"

He hesitated again. "Dutch took care of it."

"He's dead, isn't he?" John said.

"Yeah. You know the rules. Just never had to do it before, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess," John said.

"Don't worry about it too much. You rest. Don't be doing anything stupid, like trying to get up."

John sank into his pillow, looking around the tent. "Wait, why is Hosea in here? Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine. I figured I'd let him sleep a little longer, seeing as we're about to pick up camp."

"Where are we going?"

"Some old farmhouse, not far from here. Then we'll figure out what town we're heading to next."

"So much for my first bank robbery."

"Hey, it weren't too bad. None of you got killed and you got the money. Annabelle and Dutch might be back together."

"Wait, really?"

"Might be," Arthur emphasized.

"I hope they are. It's been weird around here."

"That it has," Arthur agreed. "Now, you rest. You're doing well, don't go messing that up."

"Oh, come on!"

"I'll sic Copper on you if you try to get up."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, Copper!" Arthur called into the camp, and the coonhound bounded up to him and balanced his front legs on John's cot, trying to lick his face.

"Ugh, get off, Copper! Fine!"

Arthur pulled Copper off him, his laughter causing Hosea to stir. "I'm going to let Susan and Dutch know you are awake, so I'd pass out now if you don't want to deal with their fussing."

John smiled and closed his eyes, feigning sleep, though Arthur was sure he'd be tired enough to sleep for real.

Moving camp improved the mood of their gang, and they soon ignored the ugly events following the bank robbery. But none of them would forget the way Dutch ruthlessly executed Morrison, especially Arthur. He'd never seen that blank look on Dutch's face before.

John recovered, slower than he would have liked but without any complications. Hosea hovered over him constantly until John was begging Arthur to take Hosea hunting again. Arthur pretended to ignore John's request, but really he knew he couldn't drag Hosea away. "Bessie wouldn't be happy with me if I let you lay in bed bored all day," Hosea said, preparing to destroy John in another round of poker. It was the first time they'd heard Hosea mention Bessie in a sober state, and it shut John up real quick.

The only person in the gang who was unhappy was Molly. "Can I talk to you?" she asked Arthur one evening when he found her pacing the edges of camp.

"Sure, what's going on?"

"I just," Molly started, chewing on her lip. "I thought he liked me, you know? Dutch, he was always talking with me and I know he was flirting."

"Yeah, we all saw," Arthur said.

"So, why'd he choose her?"

"Listen, Miss O'Shea-"

"Oh, you can call me Molly."

"Molly, they were together for a long time. There's a lot of history you don't know about."

"Karen told me some," she said.

"And there's a whole lot Karen doesn't know about, either," said Arthur. "Now, I don't doubt Dutch liked you. But he loves Annabelle. They've had their fights, and this one sure was a big one, but they love each other."

"It's not fair," Molly said. "He shouldn't have been making me think-"

"No, he shouldn't have, and you have every right to be annoyed with him. Dutch may be the smartest man I know, well aside from Hosea, but he can be a fool. Just please don't blame Annabelle for that. There's plenty of men out there."

"I'll try," Molly said. "Thank you, Arthur."

"No problem, Molly."

He watched her walk back to Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth, talking briefly before joining them for chores. Arthur hoped she would be able to get over Dutch quickly. He knew what kind of effect Dutch's attention could have on people, and she hadn't been enamored for long. Arthur wanted for the best for her, but he was ecstatic that Annabelle and Dutch were back together. They were both happier, calmer. They were falling back into the routine of both their relationship and robbing.

Except that Dutch didn't have his horse.

Dutch took to borrowing other horses to go into town, and Arthur could tell that he hated it. Moose was his main mount, since John couldn't ride yet, but Dutch was constantly on the search for his own horse. It also meant that Dutch had taken to dragging Arthur to the local stables to check out their horses. So far, none had met his impossibly high standards, and Arthur didn't even get the chance to start up his business in their new location.

Speaking of…

"Arthur!" Dutch called out, before Arthur even had a chance for morning coffee.

"Morning, Dutch."

"Don't take too long with breakfast. You, me, Hosea, and Annabelle are going to take a ride."

"Where to?"

"Oh, just a ride, son. Anna and I want to share some of our ideas with you two before we tell the family."

"Okay." He wasn't going to pretend to know what Dutch had cooking in his head.

"Oh, don't give me that look. This is going to be a good one, but I need you and Hosea to help with the planning. Ten minutes, then we head out."

Dutch wandered off calling for Hosea next, and Arthur looked to Annabelle. "It's good, I promise," she said. "But it is different."

"Now you've both got me worried."

She just laughed, and went to saddle Leo.

They trotted up the hills and through the forests, enjoying their time away from the others for a little while. Dutch and Hosea reminisced about their early days riding together, stories which Arthur never got tired of despite the many variations they'd shared over the years. They were almost back to normal, Hosea and Dutch, though Hosea also had no clue why Dutch had insisted on taking them all out of camp for a few hours.

"This better not be an announcement that they are back together, because the camp already knows that," Hosea whispered to Arthur, making him laugh.

"What are you two joking about back there?" Dutch shouted back at them, and they just laughed even more.

At the top of a hill near a river, Dutch finally pulled Moose to a halt. "How about here?" he asked Annabelle.

"Perfect." They began to unpack a blanket and some food.

"You brought us all the way up here for a picnic?" Arthur asked.

"Not just that. It's an announcement, remember?" Dutch said. "But we deserve a little break, too."

"Just tell us, Dutch, we're starting to get nervous!" Hosea said.

"Fine!" Dutch said. "We're buying a ranch!"

"What?" Arthur snorted. But Hosea's eyes widened, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

"Are you serious, Dutch?"

"I am, Old Girl," Dutch said. "Now, don't get me wrong. I love this life we have. Hell, you and I have traveled coast to coast together. We've grown our family these last few years, and there's no finer group of people I'd rather spend my days with. This is something I want for them, to be free and safe. I, uh, I messed up with Mr. Morrison."

Annabelle sighed. "You couldn't have known he was a bounty hunter," she said, but Dutch shook his head.

"My family was hurt because of that mistake. John… John shouldn't have to go through that."

Hosea eyed Dutch critically. "We talked about a ranch before."

"I know."

"And it's going to take a whole lot of money," Hosea continued.

"Yes, I know," Dutch said. "We may have to make some cuts, keep more of the money from our takes. But with all of us working together, I have faith that we can do it."

"Where?" Arthur asked.

"Somewhere without a whole lot of people," Dutch said.

"We don't know yet," Annabelle explained. "Preferably somewhere that doesn't know our names."

"We're running out of those places," Hosea said.

"You really want this, Dutch?" Arthur asked. His whole life with them, Hosea and Dutch never expressed a desire to settle down, other than the occasional musing. This though? This was real, and it could be good for them.

Dutch looked at Annabelle, the two smiling at one another. "Yes, Arthur. We do."

"Well, alright then," Arthur said. "As long as we're all together, I'm happy."

"So am I," Hosea said.

"We're all agreed, then?" Dutch asked. "Good, let's eat!"

Since Arthur joined the gang all those years ago, Dutch had made some rather outlandish promises. Promises of wealth, of plenty, of an entire country of opportunity. He'd talked up towns that turned out to be shit-holes, swore that there were lakes in the middle of deserts. It was his talent, that silver tongue. And Dutch wasn't being malicious when he made those claims. It was encouragement, to push them along from one place to another, to give them an idea to hold onto. Faith, Dutch sometimes said. And while Arthur learned to take whatever Dutch said with a grain of salt, he did have faith. Those shit-hole towns always had some opportunity hidden away. The deserts didn't always have lakes, but they found enough water to survive. And this ranch might have been the most outlandish claim of all, but Arthur couldn't help but be drawn in by Dutch's enthusiasm. And he knew that Dutch meant every word.

They spent all of their lunch talking about what their ranch could look like, where it would be, what animals they'd have. Dutch wanted to give Arthur a whole herd of horses to raise and all the room he needed to continue his business. Hosea imagined for himself a comfy chair and a library of mystery novels. Dutch and Annabelle didn't say much about what they wanted in the ranch, and Arthur realized that all they really wanted was each other.

Eventually, they had to pack up and head back to camp before it got dark. On their way back, Dutch suddenly became distracted by something off the road. Arthur followed his eyes, and saw a white horse off the road. An albino Arabian! And a rather well-dressed man stood on the ground shouting at it.

"You stupid nag! You just had to take off, didn't you?" the man shouted with an accent that Arthur couldn't identify. The horse bared its teeth, ears pinned to its head, and backed away even as the man yanked on the reins.

Dutch's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Excuse me, sir. Are you having trouble with your horse?"

"Back off, you country bumpkin. This doesn't concern you!"

Dutch probably would have toyed with the man a little longer, but the man pulled out a riding crop and swung his arm back, ready to strike the horse. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you!"

The man's face paled, but he tried to straighten his spine when he turned to face Dutch. "Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do? I am the Count of-"

"A count? Well, we don't recognize counts out here. This is the untamed west. We barely have laws. You've come to the wrong place, my friend." Dutch drew his revolver.

"How dare you point that gun at me? I'm going to report you, and when the law realized who you've threatened-"

Dutch fired two shots at the ground just in front of the man's feet, and his attempt to jump away from them caused him to trip and fall back into the mud. Dutch gracefully dismounted next to him, not even sparing him a glance. "Hello, boy," he said to the stallion, and the horse stretched out his nose and bumped his hand. Dutch took the reins, and the horse willingly let him on his back.

"You get off my horse this instant!"

"He doesn't seem very much like yours, does he?" Dutch laughed, nudging the stallion into a trot down the road.

The rich man mouth hung open. "You can't leave me here! I am the Count of-"

"You, sir, are nothing but a horse's ass!" Dutch said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. "And the Count is coming with me."

They laughed the whole way back to camp. "You aren't seriously going to name that horse the Count, are you?" Arthur asked.

"Why not? The title suits him more than that fop back there!"

"Don't know who is worse at naming horses, you or John," Arthur said.

"I'm going to ignore that!"