They didn't speak of it that night. After introducing Ms. Adler to the rest of the camp women and leaving her to their comforting, and after unloading the few tonics and canned goods Micah had scrounged up, Arthur took Ms. Grimshaw's invitation and crashed into his assigned bed for the night. The events of the day blurred together until it faded to black; sleep found him despite the whirlwind of thoughts in his head. Being strong for the others had taken a lot more out of him than he'd realized.
The sun was already high in the sky when he awoke, cocooned in a tattered quilt, pale light streaming in through filthy, cracked windows, and he cursed under his breath. There was too much to be planning for him to still be in bed! Swinging his legs over the side of the rickety cot, he pulled on his boots and took stock of the dust-covered room now that he could see better. The walls held back the worst of the wind, but the room itself wasn't terribly well insulated. Apparently he'd been too tired to care last night, but now he felt the cold that had seeped into his bones. There had to be a fireplace somewhere in this cabin, or else he would have frozen in the night.
Arthur grabbed his journal from the satchel he had carried the entire way from Blackwater, intent on warming up and sorting out his thoughts before facing the world. Everything had happened so quickly, there hadn't been time for any of it to sink in. He sure as hell didn't want to finally have the pivotal moment of realization that Dutch was gone when everyone was looking. If he had a partner in this cabin, he hoped they were out so he could be left in peace.
It turned out that his partner was still in, and sitting in a chair before the fireplace, having coaxed it to a blaze. Arthur was suddenly very glad not to be alone. "Hosea."
His other mentor tore his eyes away from the fire and gave a weak smile. "Arthur, my boy. I'm glad you got some rest."
"Somehow." Arthur shuffled over and took a seat beside the older man. He had dark circles beneath his eyes. "Don't reckon you slept much, didya?"
"No, not really." Hosea sighed a sigh that came from the deepest part of himself, in the hopes of pushing out the direst worries on his chest. "Everyone is panicking, and doesn't know what we're going to do now. Hell, neither do I. Dutch held everyone together with his fantastic plans and over-the-top optimism, but now he's gone. Damn it all, I can't believe he's gone…" Hosea gripped his knees so tightly his pale knuckles turned another shade paler. "I told him it was foolish, that we had something much safer on the line, but he wouldn't listen…"
"That Micah sure put some kinda idea in his head. I don't get it. Dutch's known you an' me forever. Sure, he likes…liked…action, but we had 'im outvoted and he went ahead anyway because of some guy he picked up a few months ago? It ain't right! I don't know why he wouldn't listen to us, and I think…" Arthur's voice finally cracked. "I think that's what hurts worst of all. I wanna kill that bastard."
Hosea saw his protégé trembling, and reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I don't enjoy Mr. Bell either, but Dutch was a grown man. You know he was going to live and die the way he wanted. We can't put the blame for what happened on anyone. Besides…"
"We need 'im," Arthur finished, drawing a shaky breath. "But we really need Dutch more. What are we gonna do, Hosea? We're the Van der Linde Gang! Without 'im, we're gonna fall apart." Before he could stop himself, a tear escaped, falling and splattering on the denim of his jeans. If anyone but Hosea had seen it, he would have been mortified. "Everything he dreamed of, everything he worked for… Without him leadin' the charge, I don't know what's left for me. I've done nothin' but follow 'im since I was fourteen, ya know?"
"Arthur," Hosea began, choosing his words carefully. "You are dear to me, so I'm going to be very frank with you. It's something…something I've been thinking about a lot lately. You know, I'm getting older. I can't do this forever, and the world is changing. Look at Blackwater. Pinkertons, everywhere, and in a place that twenty years ago was barely even on the map. I don't think Dutch ever thought about it. His eyes were always on the next prize, and not the long term. Retirement was never an option to him. He'd keep in his ways no matter how unrealistic they became in the world around him. As much as I loved him…" Hosea closed his eyes and squeezed Arthur's shoulder. "I don't think what was best for him was what was best for you. Do you understand, Arthur?"
"Like Blackwater?" he mumbled, suddenly back to being the awkward fourteen-year-old he had been when Dutch and Hosea took him in. It was the lost look in his eyes. "Like why he decided to do somethin' so dangerous even though we had other options?"
"That's right. And we lost Jenny, Davey, Mac and Sean besides Dutch. This gang is my family, you know that Arthur. I don't want to see harm come to any of you, even though I know what we do is dangerous. What I want, more than anything, is for all of you to get that virgin land in California you always dreamed about and get out of this safely. Call it the desires of an old man who's seen too much if you must." Hosea gave a chuckle. "I'm sure the hot-blooded younger ones would call me crazy. Am I?"
"Does sound awfully conservative." Arthur snorted. "And it doesn't sound so likely now that we've lost everything we've built up back in Blackwater."
"Therein lies the problem." Hosea withdrew his hand and leaned back in his chair. "How can I get you to California? Besides, half the group wouldn't listen to what I have to say. They won't like it. Seniority doesn't always demand respect in this business."
"So what does that mean?"
"That means, Mr. Morgan, that if anyone is going to steer this ship, it's going to have to be the enforcer."
His eyes widened in horror at the suggestion. "Hell no, Hosea! I can't lead!"
"Arthur, you are a 35-year-old man whose glare could petrify a person, whose punch could knock over a carnival strongman, and whose gun never misses. If we're looking at it from a nature standpoint, you are the alpha male of this pack."
Arthur closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. "I just do what I'm told. I ain't too smart or nothin'…"
"Nonsense, boy! Dutch and I didn't raise you to be an idiot. You have a good head on your shoulders, and even more, a loyal and caring heart where your family is concerned."
He remained unconvinced. "Would…would you help me figure out what to do? Like, can I just tell people the orders, not come up with 'em?"
"We've always been a team, Dutch, you and I. Yes, this means you'll have more responsibilities now, responsibilities you are more than capable of handling, but I will be supporting you every step of the way. And I dare say, so will everyone else. Except perhaps Mr. Bell, but we'll see how that goes."
"Hmm…" Arthur moaned as he slouched further into the chair. He was slowly resigning himself to the notion that if he didn't pick up the mantel, as much as he hated the idea of wearing it, nothing would be left of them. Seeing Dutch's dream scatter to the winds was not an option. "If all that's true, then we've gotta have somethin' to tell 'em when we get out there. Some kinda plan. We'll lose 'em if we don't."
"Step one would be getting off this mountain, I suppose. Where should we go? My instincts say west, but given our weakened state, it might be best to go contrary to what the Pinkertons would expect…"
"Hosea, I think step one is makin' sure we don't starve or freeze up here while we wait for our wagons to thaw out."
Hosea grinned. "See? Already a fine leader, following your instincts instead of following me blindly. So then, Mr. Morgan, how do we remedy the food situation?"
He closed his eyes in thought. "I've got an idea, but you ain't gonna like it."
"What's that?"
"O'Driscolls. Near here, camped out by a lake to the south. We could take 'em by surprise and steal their supplies. Got the information from an O'Driscoll we roughed up at the farmhouse, part of the gang who killed Ms. Adler's husband."
The older man rubbed his temples. "You're right, it makes me nervous. With Dutch dead, I had hoped that at least this feud with them would die off, but if we go in and rout their camp, we can forget about it."
"I don't see many other options."
"Neither do I. Neither do I." Hosea rose, and Arthur followed suit, stashing his journal back into his satchel. It would have to wait for later, but at least he'd gotten his therapy in one way or another. "Let's rally the others then. They've been…restless. Putting them to work will do them good, give them purpose."
"Right. An' Hosea?" Arthur paused, unsure of how to express himself. "Thanks for…you know…" He gestured uselessly with his hands.
Hosea was hugging Arthur before he knew it, understanding implicitly why the man couldn't do it himself. "We'll get through this. You know what Dutch would say, don't you?"
He wrinkled his nose. "Have a little faith!"
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
"Listen up, all o' ya!" Arthur and Hosea had gone door to door, requesting the presence of everyone in the camp for a meeting. Now, they were gathered in the warmest and driest of the cabins so John wouldn't have to get off his cot and exert himself with his gunshot wound. The last part had been Hosea's idea, with Arthur commenting that John was just being a big baby about it. In any case, it was Arthur's booming voice that cut through the anxious chatter in the room. Every eye was on him even though Hosea stood by his side, and he hated it already.
"We've had the worst few days. The loss has hit all of us. To lose Jenny and Davey would be hard enough to bear, but not knowing where Sean and Mac ended up? Worse. Then, obviously, seein' our leader fall…" God, this was impossible to talk about without revealing too much of his pain through his voice! "I ain't gonna lie, the view couldn't get much darker. Most o' us joined this gang because of Dutch Van der Linde, because of the ideas he stood for. Because he believed in all of us and made us a family." Arthur fell quiet for a moment, but no one dared break the silence. "There are two things that have not changed, though. We're still family even though he's gone. He may have brought all of us together, but now we've got to stay together and support each other. It's what he woulda wanted. It's what I think we all wanted when we signed on." Arthur was watching Micah carefully out of the corner of his eye, and predictably he rolled his eyes at the statement. That fucking asshole. "The second thing? Even though Dutch is gone, we're still the Van der Linde Gang. We still believe in freedom, and we're outlaws…"
"…for life!" the room chorused. It lacked energy, but it was declared with great solemnity, and the unison effect was chilling. Arthur hadn't been expecting that, but he was pleased to hear it.
"That's right. Now, I know y'all wanna hear a plan. First things first, we gotta survive up here until the thaw. Food is our primary concern. I know we received many cans o' food from Ms. Adler, thank you for that ma'am…" He found her in the crowd, wrapped in a shawl one of the girls had knitted, and staring at her hands in her lap. It was going to take time, a good long time. "But the O'Driscoll bastards ate up a good bit of her stores before we arrived. So, Charles and I are gonna head out and do some animal huntin' after we disperse so Pearson has somethin' for the pot. While we're out, I want some o' you boys to head to Ms. Adler's homestead and give her husband a proper burial. They both deserve that much. Just don't engage any O'Driscolls that might be sniffin' around unless you know you've got the advantage." Sadie finally looked up at his words, eyes watering again. It was hard to believe the poor woman still had tears left to cry, and he hoped these were out of gratitude at least.
"After lunch, Javier, Bill, Lenny, Micah, and I are gonna head out and do some O'Driscoll huntin'. We've got a lead on a camp o' theirs, and it's bound to have good pickings. More food, medical supplies, blankets, the like. Besides, I think the boys need somethin' to do to keep 'em from gettin' rusty, am I right boys?"
From the back of the room, he could hear Javier and Lenny whooping in approval, and finally a smile broke through. "That's what I thought. We'll see where we stand after today, and then we can decide where we go from there. Remember, if you need anything, we're all here for each other. The Van der Linde gang ain't gonna crumble if we don't let it!"
Arthur stepped back and started to leave the room, suddenly unable to recall how Dutch ended his electrifying speeches. It always seemed so natural for that man… Then, he heard a voice from the far wall. "Nice speech, Morgan. Did ya get Hosea to write it for you?"
He turned around and shot a death glare at the source of the jeer. "Shut up Marston! Abigail?"
"With pleasure, Arthur," the taunting man's woman agreed quickly before smacking him sharply on his good arm. "Don't be an idiot, John! I know it isn't in your nature, but try a little harder!"
As the room fell into quiet laughter at their antics, Arthur suddenly felt reassured that despite everything, some things hadn't changed.