A halo of sunlight peeked over the horizon, blanketing the world with a vast array of smoky fluorescent colors. In response, the electrical lights of the city were being shut off to welcome the approaching dawn.
Isaac gave Harlin a comforting pat on the neck as he coxed the weary horse to walk the unfamiliar cobblestone streets of the busy city. Sure, Dutch Van Der Linde had cautioned him to stay away from large cities but Saint-Denis was the most likely place to find the FBI.
Slowly and cautiously, the horse and rider weaved through the waking town. It was certainly the largest city he had ever been to and, if he was being honest with himself, Isaac was finding the tall buildings and narrow roadways to be quite intimidating and claustrophobic. The intermittent soft jingle of trollies was somehow especially eery.
Just around the corner from the police station he dismounted and tried to act casual as he leaned against a cement wall, surveying the building.
The distinctive blue coats of the officers coming in and out set him on edge. He wished he had his father's hat to shield his face from view but no use worrying about that now.
Four men in black suits, very similar to what the FBI could have crossed the street and entered the building. But perhaps they were just businessmen or Pinkertons?
He adjusted his gunbelt nervously and tried to form a plan of action.
Perhaps he should go inside? He could act like his horse had been stolen. Filling a police report would buy him some time to monitor those insides. He could also act like a starry-eyed boy who dreamed of being an FBI agent one day. He could beg to talk to one. That shouldn't be suspicious. Provided they didn't recognize him, that is.
Finally, he pushed away from the wall and began making his way across the street. He was about to step on the curb when someone grabbed at his elbow.
"Sorry lad," Came a cheery Irish accent. "Don't wanna be going in there. Tho judging by the look on your pa face it may be safer."
Isaac looked to his right and was stunned to recognize the man next to him as Sean, from the Van Der Lind gang.
"Oi, what are you doing here?" Isaac asked as Sean pulled them back the way he'd come and Sean let out a hearty laugh.
"Kids today," The Irishmen all but sang, "they think they can waltz into any predicament and all will turn up roses. With narry a thought to what others have to go through for them."
"That's rich coming from you." Another voice said, this time to Isaacs left. Isaac turned to see Charles, tho the man scowled ahead and refused to look directly at him. Isaac felt a twinge of shame as it occurred to him Charles was disappointed in him.
Together Sean and Charles marched him around the concrete half-wall so they were out of sight of the police station. Isaac was about to protest when suddenly he was pulled from Sean's grasp and yanked back around to face the steely glare of Arthur Morgan.
Isaac couldn't help but let out a muffled shout of surprise at facing the frosty glower.
"Shut it," Arthur seethed through his teeth. His hands flexed tightly around Isaac and, looking down, Isaac realized his father was shaking.
Noticing himself, Arthur abruptly let go of Isaac but his hands at his sides still vibrated with unspent energy and emotion. "one more word out of you and so help me god, I will..." Arthur's quiet yet harsh voice trailed off and the man seemed to flounder for what else to say. "I don't need proof." the outlaw finally whispered, catching Isaac off guard.
Isaac watched as the rabid anger from his father seemed to boil off. Evaporating in front of his eyes like moring due in the noonday sun. Arthur's face softened yet still retained his scowled, almost baring his teeth like a beast but his eyes were glossed over with a sheen of unspilt tears.
"I don't need proof." Arthur repeated quietly. "Maybe Dutch does but I don't." Arthur took in a steadying breath and nodded, as tho encouraging himself to go on. "I know who you are." He said simply. "And if you have to leave, then I'm going with you."
Isaac was too dumbfounded to do much more than gawk at the man.
"Well," Arthur spat. "We don't have all day, saddle up!"
The words startled him to action. Leaping onto Harlin's back he found his voice. "Pa, I can't ask you to give up the gang."
"My mind's made up boy." Arthur cast a sideways glance to Isaac and felt the last of the adrenalin leave him as he sighed. "Look, I lost you once. I'm not foolish enough to let it happen again."
They rode out of the city quietly. Arthur and Isaac upfront with a quiet Charles and Sean trailing behind.
As they reached the edge of the city limits Arthur veered off towards a cluster of trees. Isaac followed wordlessly and was surprised to find several other members of the Van Der Linde gang waiting for them. Including Dutch.
"Dutch," Arthur greeted as he dismounted.
"Arthur," Dutch replied somewhat standoffish. Dutch and Hosea stood close to each other but a subtle tension divided them enough to make Isaac think they weren't actually getting along.
Arthur stopped a few feet from them before he took off his hat. "I know you don't trust Micah, hell I don't trust Micah. And there's nothing I can do to prove this isn't part of some grand plan of his. No point in trying to convince you of something even I'm not 100% sure of." he cast a glance back to Isaac before continuing. "But that doesn't matter, Dutch. In every way that matters, he's Isaac."
"Arthur, I'm asking for some faith. I-"
"No." Arthur said flatly and Dutch was stunned into silence for several heartbeats.
"What did you say?" Dutch challenged clenching his teeth as the surrounding gang members hackles rose in response.
Thick tension filled the air as Arthur continued. "I can't put faith in you. not for something like this."
"How can you cast aside 20 years of loyalty like that?" Dutch spat, his voice a raspy growl.
"Because I'm loyal to what matters. He's my family, Dutch. Just as you are but you're the one making me choose." Arthur swallowed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry Dutch, but I think it's time I leave, for good."
Dutch said nothing, there was nothing else to be said.
Arthur turned away, keeping his eyes down as he passed the gang he had called family. He slipped his hat on as he mounted up and when he did his eyes caught sight of Charles.
Like a room so dark no light reflects back, Charles wore a hardened stonefaced expression that let nothing show as to his true feelings... but that in itself showed everything Arthur needed to see. It told Arthur that the mountain of feelings locked and buried behind the well-guarded look was all for him.
Arthur hung his head as a bitter grimace crept on his face. Life would never truly let them be happy, would it?
He pulled back on the reins to turn away when a warm hand came to rest on his leg. Arthur looked down to see Hosea, his smile wobbled momentarily before he tightened his hand. "It makes no sense rushing off without your own provisions, Arthur. Come back to camp and collect your things first. Give us time to say a proper goodbye."