The Bell gang was about what Isaac expected. Ruthless, cutthroats that swore and spit and wrestled with each other as boldly as any man with a death wish. Which was exactly what they all were.
Almost everyone in the camp was a recent addition to the gang. Apparently, Micah's goal was quantity of members over the quality of members. Several were found like he was, saved from hanging by Micah himself. A few may have known Micah from other gangs but the majority were all that remained of the O'Driscol gang. At least that meant there weren't any senior members to answer to, with the exception of Micah of course. Everyone else just sorta fought for their place like wolves in a pack.
Isaac didn't sleep a lick the first night. Anytime his eyes drifted closed he saw a kaleidoscope of bloodied faces. Ones with the heads bashed in or the throats slit. Throats wide and gaping open like goldfish mouths. Tendons and bone, stringy and white, shining starkly against a carpet of scarlet. And as he bolted awake, he was chased by the echoed screams and cries of the dead.
He shivered in the cold sweat of the warm night. Sticky with guilt. As the sun rose in the morning he sat on the edge of camp near Harlin, watching it rise. He wondered if the Van Der Linde camp was just like this. Cold and unpredictable. Is this a life he could ever get used to? Should he even be here? but even if he managed to escape he was running away like a coward, allowing his own father to walk right into a trap.
Harlin whickered softly and lipped at his blond sweaty hair. He didn't even shove him away, too lost in thought.
What loyalty did he owe his father tho? According to his mother, this Arthur Morgan, loved him. Or would have if things were different. It was hard to imagine anyone loving him at this point. Considering all that he'd done. But his father was a notorious outlaw. Becoming a legend for his brutality even in the shadow of Dutch Van Der Linde. Perhaps the many murders wouldn't sour their relationship but build it? Isaac couldn't stand that idea. With the finality of a lighting strike straight to his core, he detested it. Murder was not something to bond over. To gloat about it as these outlaws did. Swapping gory tales around a smoky fireside.
But what else did he have at this point? He was a wanted man, probably wanted dead or alive. He chuckled bitterly at the thought his bounty had probably gone up to 75 or even 100 dollars since his escape from jail. If his father found out, would he try to cash in on his bounty? To trade a nuisance like him for a reward?
Isaac teared up at the thought of betrail. The betrail of a man who probably wouldn't give two shits about him. He was so invested in the idea of this man already. Secretly wishing some hero father would come save him from this wretched life he'd fallen into. but deep down he knew Arthur Morgan was even more likely to kill him than any man in the Bell gang.
"Isaac." someone called, pulling him from his thoughts. "We're getting ready for the mission."
"I'm coming." he assured, standing on shaking feet. Earning him a mocking laugh.
"Did the little doe-eyed boy lose his nerve?"
Isaac turned, fear warning him to be respectful but a man could only take so much before they broke. "I said I'm coming." he spat causing the smirk to drop into a glare.
"Wanna watch that mouth of yours boy?" the outlaw challenged. But Isaac was an outlaw too.
"Wanna watch yours?" He spat, and the ensuing gut-punch had him rolling in the dirt before he knew he'd been hit. He groaned into the dust as another kick tucked into his side and a spurred boot stomped solidly on his head. This was a different level of fighting than his uncle usually delt him. The unbridled swiftness and furry made his uncle look kind in comparison. Like the man had been holding back all that time.
"What's the matter little doe? That all you got?" Isaac growled helplessly as he was pinned to the ground. A final punch colliding with his cheek.
The man laughed as he gave one last shove before he got up and walked away. His back turned seemed to spark something in Isaac. An opening. Any voice of reason was gone as he scrambled over to lunged at the man. "I'm not some LITTLE DOE!"
One moment he was wrapped around the man's back and the next he was ragdoll'd to the ground, whipped off by the force of the man's twisting. As soon as he fell, two large hands picked him up by his coat and hurled him into the air. Landing hard in the center of camp. He didn't have time to get up before he was tackled again. "You wanna play with the big guns?"
Cheers from the camp began to spring up as people, including Micah, began goating the two on.
"Well come on, LITTLE DOE. Fight!" The others called, a half-circle forming around them as his opponent backed off to give him room to rise.
As Isaac stood they both raised fists and began to circle each other.
"All right little Doe, I'll even let you land the first hit." the other said playfully slapping his own cheek, offering the golden opportunity to gain the upper hand. Too late to back out now, Isaac went for it. Clocking the man solidly in the face.
"Not bad kid, but no one ever taught you how to fight. You need to put your shoulder into it, like this!"
Isaac woke up where he had dropped to someone nudging him with a dirty boot.
"Get up."
His head felt like it had exploded. Tenderly reaching up he wiped at a think patch of blood from the corner of his mouth. He coughed and gagged as his head rang with a throbbing headache.
Isaac gingerly sat up, cradling his head as his stomach threatened to evacuate.
"Everyone's gone on the mission but you've got a job to do and I'm not going to ask you again, get up."
Mission?... The Van Der Linde ambush! "What do you mean they left?" he demanded. Hobbling to his feet and staggering over to the only other occupant of the camp.
"Well, youse was passed out as we discussed our roles, so you got left with being an errand boy."
"But I was supposed to go with Micah to meet Arthur Morgan!"
"And you would have if you weren't such a little runt. How do you honestly expect to get revenge on the right-hand man of the Van Der Lind when you can't even handle Joe?"
Isaac scoffed, his temper flaring once again.
"Now none of that kid, this here's an important mission for ya. Micah wants you to take that giant horse of yours and deliver this to the second camp and assist with the raid."
"Second camp? What raid?" Isaac didn't even know there was a second camp.
"Gosh, you are daft, kid."
"I'm not daft, I'm just new." he spat.
The man gave him a heated glare that clearly said 'watch it boy' before he continued. "Micah has two camps, us, the ones who are going to ambush Van Der Linde. And the second, the ones who will descend on the Van Der Linde base camp and slaughter everyone."
Isaac froze. "I thought Micah just wanted the bounties. Why attack the base camp?"
"Cause kid, Micah doesn't just want to collect on the reward but completely defeat Dutch Van Der Linde. Now get going." He said passing him a note. "This is the location of the Van Der Linde Base camp. Deliver it to the second camp, they are just northeast of Emerald Ranch passed the railroad tracks. Now get going before I'm forced to do it."
Isaac took the note with a sense of relief. So long as he kept it from the second camp, then the Van Der Linde main camp would be ok.
"Where is the first camp going to ambush the Van Der Linde gang?" he pressed, slipping the page into his jeans pocket.
"kid." the other threatened half exasperated.
"This is my one chance at revenge. Once I deliver the message, where can I find the first camp?"
The man sighed. "Fine kid, it's by an abandoned oil well in the heartlands. In the middle of the wide-open country, surrounded by tall cliffs. Perfect for an ambush. I'm riding out now but the parle has probably already started, if not finished already. So I don't know what good it'll do ya t-"
BANG-
Without allowing time for regret, Isaac holstered his pistol as the man he shot, square in the chest, crumbled to the ground. He ignored the frozen expression, the look of shock on the man's face as he passed.
Isaac rode Harlin at a breakneck pace. Darting around slow-moving pedestrians and leaving their cursing and shouts in the dust behind him. Rushing through the expanse of grassy plain, hoping against all hope he wasn't too late.
He slowed as he reached the top of a grassy knoll and there, open and vulnerable, was a small group of three people.
"Come on boy, harder, we're almost there."
Isaac dashed straight for the group. As he neared he was able to make out the glossy black coat of Micah Bell. And in front of him, a man he'd only seen on wanted posters, Dutch Van Der Linde and guarding his back, stood none other than Arthur Morgan.