I definitely feel bad for Isaac... I promise things will get better one day...

Chapter 33: The Hunt

Annabelle parked herself next to John's bedside shortly after Charles and Javier returned with the man. John was restless and sweating with fever, the bandages over his face slowly becoming stained with blood and pus. Abigail sat with him at first, fussing over his injuries and trying to figure out just how the man had gotten himself torn apart by wolves, and ignoring John's attempted explanations. She was worried, of course. They all were, and this was just another disaster in a long string of them leading to this old mining town in the Grizzlies.

Annabelle eventually convinced Abigail to leave John for a bit. Abigail was tired, and Jack was looking for her, having been taken to a different room so as to not see his father's injuries. The original bullet wound never got a chance to start healing, either, between the constant running and his new injuries, infection settled into John's skin.

Besides, there wasn't much Annabelle could do while her own injuries healed. She couldn't walk, chop wood, stand guard duty… nothing. But she could do this, sit by John's side and keep him from dying. Even in his mischievous years, right after Dutch saved his life, she loved him like a son. Arthur, too.

She hoped that, wherever Arthur was, he was safe. And warmer than they were.

A cough, then a groan. John shifted, tightening his grip on her hand. "Hey, kiddo," Annabelle said, leaning in closer. "Just relax, okay? We're taking care of you."

John opened the eye not covered with bandages, even though it was swollen, too. "Goddamn wolves," John huffed.

"I guess you taste bad, because they spit you out," she joked, but it didn't lighten John's mood.

"They got Moose," he said sadly. "We got lost in the storm and they chased us up the mountain. He tried to kick them, but he slipped."

"I'm sorry."

"He was a good horse. I wish I could have done something, but they all swarmed him and I… I knew it was my chance to get away."

"It's okay, honey," Annabelle said. "Just relax and get some sleep."

"Are Abigail and Jack okay?"

"Just fine. Abigail doesn't want Jack to see you just yet."

"It look as bad as it feels?"

"How does it feel?"

"Pretty damn awful," he groaned. "Is Arthur here?"

"What?"

"Did he find us?"

Annabelle felt the tears building in her eyes, and she didn't stop them from falling. "No, he hasn't yet. I'm sure he got himself safe. Who knows, maybe he went to New Austin and is wondering why we aren't there?"

"We shouldn't have left him."

"I know." Annabelle hadn't known, not until she woke up and saw Isaac riding Boadicea.

"I thought he was in camp," John said. "I didn't think to look for him. Everyone was running around and getting on horses and I didn't think to look!"

"John-"

"I should have gone back to Blackwater for him! But I didn't, and now I'm just useless."

"Hey, don't do that," Annabelle said. "Don't. If we had stayed, we would have been killed. You have Jack to watch out for. You did the right thing."

"Yeah, the right thing. Getting lost, getting eaten."

"It's not-"

"Got Davey killed. He knew I couldn't swim. Jumped in after me."

"It's not your fault," she finally got out.

It was Dutch's fault, but she wouldn't say that to John. No need to burden him now, while he was hurt and struggling. That would be kept between her and Dutch for the moment, if she could even catch him for a moment alone. When he wasn't drifting about the camp, checking on everyone, seemingly doing everything while he actually did nothing, he was fighting with Hosea about O'Driscolls and plans. Like they hadn't buried two people. Like they weren't missing three more.

Like he hadn't shot that girl.

Her terrified face, frozen when Dutch's revolver dug into her soft hair. The image was still printed on her eyes, overlapping with the pool of blood, the one eye dangling, but her hair still fluttering in the breeze.

He didn't have to shoot her. He could have pushed her to the side, or not grabbed her at all. It wouldn't have made a difference. Or maybe it did. Maybe grabbing her made things worse in an already bad situation that she, Hosea, and Arthur all argued against.

Why didn't he listen?

Why did he shoot her?

The door opened, and Dutch entered, wrapped in his heavy fur coat and covered in snow from the waist down. "We've got to do it, Hosea. If they come find us-"

"And what makes you think they will?" Hosea asked. Lenny, Bill, Micah, and Javier all wandered in after him.

"The last thing we need is to get bushwhacked by Colm O'Driscolls, and besides, their camp could have supplies that we need!"

"Or information," Hosea spat. "I heard the O'Driscoll at that homestead was talking about a train. Please tell me you aren't putting their lives at risk just to pull one over on Colm. It's been ten years! We don't have time for your revenge."

"This is the right call, Hosea," Dutch said. "And you know Colm's always got money, and we will need money once we get off these mountains. Don't start doubting me now!"

"That's not what this is, and you know it," Hosea said.

Annabelle pulled herself up from her seat next to John and said, "Dutch, we can't afford any more injured. Or dead, we've already lost two, John is hurt, and we're missing three, including-"

"I know!" Dutch shouted. "You think I'm not worried about that! And if we don't do this? I learned a long time ago that you hit Colm O'Driscoll. If you wait, people you love get hurt."

"This feud needs to be put to rest, I agree," she said. "But now is not the time."

"And when is the time? You know what he did to Arthur! You fancy just sitting around and waiting to see if you're next?"

"No one is going to be next if we keep our heads down," Hosea said, but Dutch was already storming off, waving to the men to follow.

Why wasn't he listening?

"I suppose, when the weather breaks, we'll have to keep heading east," Hosea said to Pearson over the fire. His cough was worsening, but not their most concerning problem. Besides the fight between Hosea, Dutch, and Annabelle earlier, they were running out of food. Isaac watched as Pearson prepared the last rabbit for the stew pot. One rabbit, with barely enough meat to satisfy one person, but the idea of heading east scared Isaac more. It was the opposite direction of his father, who was probably running into New Austin at that very moment.

"If we don't starve to death first," Pearson said. "When I was in the Navy, we were stranded at sea for fifty days. Do you know what starvation does to a person?"

"We're not discussing this," Hosea said, glancing at Isaac.

"When we ran away from Blackwater, I wasn't able to get supplies in."

"Yes, and why is that?" Hosea asked. "You knew we were going to be leaving for New Austin, so why were you waiting until the last minute to go shopping?"

"I sent Lenny and Bill out hunting and they found nothing," Pearson said. Charles, who was outside checking on Taima, looked up and joined them.

"When have you seen either Lenny or Bill go hunting on their own?"

"Enough of this," Charles said. "Isaac and I can find something."

"You sure?" Hosea said, mostly to Isaac.

"Better than sitting around doing nothing," Isaac said.

"Okay, just… be careful, dress in layers."

"I know."

"Hold on," Pearson said, running over to his table and grabbing a can. "Here. You're going to need something to eat out there."

"'Assorted, Salted Offal,'" Isaac read. "Gross."

"Come on, let's go," Charles said.

"Hold on, Charles. You sure you are alright to hunt? Your hand-"

"I'll be fine just tracking game, and Isaac can kill it."

"Alright, but after that, you are resting," Hosea said.

"You taking Bo?" Charles asked Isaac.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good, she's already waiting for you outside," Charles said. "I think she was bored stuck in the barn, causing all sorts of trouble."

"She misses him," Isaac said, patting her nose.

"I'm sure. Let's head out."

They nudged the horses into a trot, heading deep into the fresh snow. Now that the wind slowed and the sky was starting to clear, it was beautiful in a way. Untouched.

"How are you, Isaac?" Charles asked, breaking the peace.

"Okay, I guess. Considering, well, everything. Are you okay?"

"Ah, it's just a burn. Hurts now, but it will get better."

Isaac's stomach growled. "You think we'll find something?"

"There's meat up here for sure. Pearson doesn't know what he's talking about. Now that the weather has eased off a bit, they'll be needing to feed. Let's try up this way, find some higher ground."

"Lead the way," Isaac said. "I never did much hunting in the snow before. Pa usually did a lot before the first snow came, so we'd have salted meat all winter."

"It's tricky for sure, depending on the weather," Charles said. "But right now, the deer will be hungry. Animals don't do well in late storms like this."

"Yeah, no one does." Flurries started to fall now, but Isaac hoped it wouldn't be as bad as the storm. "Hey, Charles? What exactly happened in Blackwater? With the boat?"

"I'm not really sure," Charles said. "It all happened pretty fast."

"Oh."

"You know, I understand if you aren't okay right now," Charles said, slowing Taima a little to turn and face Isaac. "I didn't know Davey or Jenny too well, and it seems like we need to keep pushing, but you can take a moment to grieve."

"Davey taught me poker," Isaac said after a moment. Davey would let him borrow some coins and keep whatever he won. "He always let me sit with him whenever Pa was out of camp. I didn't talk to Jenny much, but Lenny liked her."

"I'm sorry," Charles said. "They didn't deserve what happened."

They made their way down to a creek, and finally started to see some grass. "Are those tracks?" Isaac asked.

"Good eye," Charles said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Looks like deer, that's good. Recent, too. Let's walk it from here."

Isaac grabbed his bow, couching down to follow. Charles let him lead, and he must have been doing something right, because he didn't get corrected. Then, Charles went, "Shh, look down there!"

A lone deer drank greedily from the creek. The rest of the herd had to be close, too.

"Try to hit it in the neck or head," Charles said. "Quick and clean."

"I know." He drew back, breathing slow and adjusting his aim before letting go.

The arrow hit the deer in the neck, and Charles let out the breath he'd been holding. "Good. Let's try to get another one."

Isaac had to track the second one across the river, but he was able to get a clean kill on that one, too. "I'll get that one," he said, stepping quickly across the freezing water to collect the carcass and whistling for Boadicea.

"This should be enough to last us a few days," Charles said.

"Hey, Charles?"

"Yes, Isaac?"

"My pa, you think he's okay?" Isaac asked. Out of all the members of the gang, Charles struck him as one who would be honest.

"I don't know," Charles said. "He wasn't part of the robbery, so maybe he just found a place to lie low rather than lead the law back to camp. That's what I would do. I'm sure he didn't expect us to come up here, and with the snow falling like it was, it's not like he can track us."

"But you think he's alive?"

"Yes, I do," Charles said, confidently.

Isaac breathed in deep. "I know Hosea and Dutch have been saying the same thing, but it's hard to believe them, you know? Dutch, he… he didn't even look for my pa when he got back. He just told everyone to leave."

"And you're angry."

"Yeah, of course! It's like he didn't care. And I know he does, but…"

"But in the moment, it felt like he didn't," Charles finished for him. "Dutch… he has a lot of people depending on him. He tries to treat everyone fair, and with a group like this, it's hard. He had to decide if he should risk waiting or move the people he could. And he certainly didn't anticipate this storm. Otherwise, he may have been able to send someone back to look for Arthur."

"I guess I can't blame Dutch for the weather," Isaac joked.

"No, you can't," Charles chuckled. "Though I'm sure if Dutch could control the weather, he would."

"Don't know why he's going after the O'Driscolls though," Isaac mumbled.

"What is it with the O'Driscolls?" Charles asked suddenly. "I've heard a lot of talk about them."

"They, uh…" Isaac stammered. "They don't like Dutch. Dutch killed Colm's brother, so they… they tried to kill my pa. Almost did."

"Oh. That must have been hard."

"I was real young, so I don't really remember much of it," Isaac said. "We don't talk about it." He didn't want to talk about it.

"I see," Charles said, just as Colter appeared, and he let the subject drop. "Let's get these over to Pearson."

Uncle was sitting with Pearson by the fire, his own drink in hand. "Why, thank you, boys!" Uncle said when Isaac hauled the deer onto the table. "Someone has to keep us all fed."

"See you got on just fine," Pearson said.

"Yeah, it wasn't too bad," Isaac said.

"Here, have a drink and warm up," Pearson said, offering his bottle.

"Uh…"

"Go on, just a sip. We won't tell Arthur when he gets here," Pearson said with a wink.

"What? Arthur never let you have a sip of whiskey?" Uncle said, astonished. "You're practically a man!"

"He's doing more work than half the men," Charles said.

"I think that's the most I've heard you talk, Mr. Smith," Uncle said.

Isaac took the offered bottle, gave it a cautionary sniff, then took a swig. He almost spit it out when it burned his tongue, instead forcing himself to swallow as to not seem weak, and the fire raced down his throat to his stomach. "Ugh, what the hell?" Isaac said, face scrunched up at the disgusting sensation while Pearson and Uncle laughed.

"It's Navy rum, my friend! It's the only thing, the only thing! Keeps you sane it does."

"How?" Isaac asked, smacking his lips to try to get the taste out.

"Here," Charles said, trading his water canteen for the bottle. Isaac took a swig and flushed out his mouth, though Charles seemed unaffected by the awful liquor.

And that's when Micah rode in. With a man on the back of his horse.

"I got him, boss!" Micah said. "I got the O'Driscoll."

Isaac froze. Why did Dutch bring one back here?

"Well done, Mr. Bell," Dutch said, before addressing the O'Driscoll. "Welcome to your new home. I hope you're real happy here."

"I bet I can make him talk, boss," Micah said.

"Oh, he'll be talking, but it will all be lies," Dutch said. "Why don't you and Mr. Williamson tie this maggot up someplace safe. We get him hungry first. I got a saying, my friend. We shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feel 'em as need feeding. We are going to find out what you need." Dutch walked back towards his little cabin, laughing gleefully. "I can't believe it! An O'Driscoll in my camp!"

"I ain't an O'Driscoll, mister. I hate that feller!" the O'Driscoll said as Micah and Bill dragged him away.

"Come on," Charles said, patting Isaac on the shoulder. "We should get warmed up."

They settled next to the fire in the main cabin where John was still recovering, sleepily listening to their stories while Hosea looked after him. Micah and Bill joined them later, and Isaac almost left when Micah began bragging about their victory. But he didn't want to brave the cold just yet, and Pearson had just brought in the pot of stew.

"Hey, Hosea?" Lenny asked while they were eating. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What did the O'Driscolls do to Arthur?"

Isaac froze. He didn't think Hosea would tell. Dutch and Hosea never talked about it. But Hosea sighed and said, "I suppose you all have a right to know, if Dutch is going to be dragging you into this feud."

"Hosea-" John groaned, trying to sit up, but Hosea pushed him back down.

"John, it's okay."

"But Arthur should tell it."

"Yes, but… they should know." Hosea took a deep breath. "I know all of you have heard the story about how Dutch killed Colm's brother."

The new members nodded. Even Sadie looked up, curious about the story.

"Well, after that, Colm tried to take revenge by kidnapping Annabelle. But when they tried to grab her, Arthur sacrificed himself so she could get away." Hosea glanced at Isaac. "They dragged him off, beat him, put a goddamn buckshot in his leg, and then…"

"Ow, Hosea!" John said. Hosea was squeezing his hand tight.

"Sorry, John," Hosea said, releasing his grip. "Anyway, they… uh… after that, they shoved Arthur into a coffin and… buried him alive."

A spoon dropped and hit the floor. A few bowls were placed on the ground. "Jesus, they really did that?" Bill said.

Even Micah was surprised.

"They did," Hosea said. "We found in time, thankfully, and as far as we are aware, Colm thinks he's dead. We've always tried to keep it that way. But this feud has to end one day."

"Is that how Arthur lost his leg?" Lenny asked quietly.

"Yes. Just don't go bothering Arthur too much with all this. I'm sure you can imagine, it's a pretty bad memory."

Isaac put down the now empty bowl and left the room, trudging through the snow to the edge of camp. He squeezed his eyes shut against the vague memories he still had. The fear that Pa wasn't coming back, how listless Pa had been when he finally did.

He jumped when a horse snorted in his face. He hadn't noticed Bo walk up to him, and he pushed her nose away. But when Isaac opened his eyes, he realized it wasn't Boadicea in front of him. A flaxen roan Tennessee Walker had wandered into camp, his saddle half-covered in snow.

"Hey, buddy, you lost?" Isaac asked. "Let's get you warmed up in the barn."

Isaac got the horse inside, waving at Uncle. Then, he noticed the O'Driscoll staring at him.

"Hey, mister, hey, that's my horse!" the O'Driscoll said. "Where'd you find him?"

"I… uh…"

"Hey, don't talk to the kid!" Uncle said.

"Please, could you just take care of Branwen? He's a good horse. He's the only thing I cared about in that gang. Please?" the O'Driscoll begged. His eyes were wide and pleading. He sagged against the ropes keeping him tied up, weak, pathetic, nothing like the monster Isaac imagined an O'Driscoll to be.

"Fine," Isaac stammered. "We'll look after him."

"Thank you! Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me."

Isaac untacked Branwen and sent him towards the rest of the horses before running from the barn.