"You should know, Hosea, that it was a pain in the ass tryin' to get these plans from Micah," Arthur grumbled as he spread out the roll of paper on the table he'd pulled in front of their fireplace. "Bastard wouldn't give 'em up unless he got to be a part o' the plannin' meeting. I thought we was gonna end up in a shoot-out and I'd have to pry them out of his cold lifeless fingers. Kinda a shame it didn't come to that, actually."
"How'd you convince him?" Hosea raised his eyebrows as he took a seat at the table.
"I didn't. Everyone in camp glarin' at him did. Guess even a fool like him knows when fightin's pointless." Arthur took a long drag from his cigarette before extinguishing the little bit that remained and taking a seat next to his mentor.
"Well, we all know how he feels about robbing Leviticus Cornwall. Question is, does he even have any idea who this man is?" Hosea frowned as he looked over the plans. "Did Colm? Was he really arrogant enough to think he could rob one of the biggest oil, railway, and sugar magnates in the country?"
"Wait wait wait, this train belongs to somebody super important?" Arthur didn't claim to keep up with all the current events; that had always been Hosea's job.
"Yes, though even 'super important' is an understatement. It would be extremely nervy of us to do this, considering how well it went when we bit off more than we could chew in Blackwater. To rob him would be of the same caliber in terms of value…and in terms of security. The man could afford a personal army of Pinkertons."
"We always used to rob the really rich ones…"
Hosea sighed enough that Arthur could hear the persistent rattling in his lungs. He was only 55, but something about him always made him feel…older. Sometimes it was the wisdom, and sometimes it was the frailty. Today, it was the latter. "We also never used to kill people. We also never used to play loan shark. We also used to give away our money to the poor. A lot has changed since we first began, hasn't it, Arthur."
Arthur looked into the fire, as if his past were in there somewhere. "Somehow. It never felt like it, but all of a sudden when you look back… Kinda scary to realize. How'd it happen?"
"Dutch was my closest friend, but he had a pull. We were both charismatic men, if I may say so myself, but Dutch had more of a…well, I guess a force behind him, a fire that burned more strongly. I think every time he'd gain an inch, and then another. It was never so much that you'd notice at the time, but in the end, the distance he pulled you was…" He stopped. "Perhaps if I hadn't left for those few years with Bessie, or perhaps if I'd put my foot down more often, we wouldn't be where we are now, but it does little good to wonder. We have a chance to shape things now, and in fact we must. The only question is, which direction will we take it?"
"This is gettin' a helluva lot deeper than I thought it would," Arthur mumbled. "I know it's a discussion that's gotta happen, but I don't think now's the time, because what we do now is done outta desperation an' not philosophy."
"I'll be honest, Arthur, I don't like the idea of trying to rob this train at all. Security is going to be through the roof, and we are still vulnerable from our last failure. We're five men down, John can't walk right, and Charles' hand isn't fully recovered. Besides, there are targets on our backs after Blackwater."
"Or are there? Dutch is dead, the thing they wanted most, and our gang fled in disarray. They won't expect it of us."
"And what about O'Driscoll? As if storming his camp wasn't enough, to take his heist right out from under him? Can we really afford to stoke his wrath in our current state?"
"Hosea." He looked the older man in the eyes, in a way he never could have done with Dutch. "I understand what you're sayin', and all of it's true. Really, there's not one reason you've given that I disagree with. But as much as I don't like the idea of doin' somethin' this reckless, right now, we're hangin' on by a thread. Our people need reliable food an' shelter. If we're ever gonna get out of these mountains and start gettin' the money we need for land, it's gotta start with this train, because we have nothin' else. I swear, if you give me this, I'll follow yer next orders without question. You'll lead us where you see fit, and you'll tell us what you want when we arrive."
"Arthur, this isn't about defending my say, it's about…"
"You don't wanna lose anyone, Hosea. You're always lookin' out for us, and that's why we all respect you. Believe me, I don't wanna lose nobody either. No unnecessary risks, I swear." When he finished his piece, he realized with no small amount of shock the nerve of what he had said. Sometimes Dutch had solicited his opinions, though who could ever tell if they factored into his final decisions. This was the first time Arthur had made a demand of his superior, and he knew it was only because this was Hosea he was talking to.
The elder thought for a long moment. "And you're not doing this because Micah is putting pressure on you for it?"
"Aw hell no. I could care less what that moron thinks," Arthur grimaced.
Hosea continued to look at him, but instead of being upset that Arthur disagreed, he gave a sad smile. "Well, if you feel that strongly Arthur, we'll do it your way. You know the capabilities of our men in the field far better than I. I will hold you to your promise though. When this is through, we are keeping our noses clean for a while, is that clear?"
"Are you mad at me?" he asked quickly, worry evident in his eyes as his broad shoulders tensed.
It hurt Hosea to see, that this fully-grown, entirely competent man could suddenly turn into a self-conscious teenager in the blink of an eye, starving for approval. It looked like he was bracing himself for a verbal blow, the reprimand for daring to disagree! How had he not seen it until now? Had Dutch's brilliance been blinding him? He leaned over and put a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder. "My boy, I raised you to think for yourself. I may not agree with you, but I'm proud that you are standing up for what you think is right. Don't worry, okay? I trust you."
The fear melted away with his mentor's words. "I promise you, we'll do this without a hitch. We've got all the plans and materials we need right here, and no distractions. You just get the camp ready to go so that when we return, we can head out." Arthur rose. "Say, have you figured where we'll go once the wagons thaw?"
"I know the area around Valentine quite well. Small sheep town, plenty of opportunities. A good place to disappear for a while. We'll say we're itinerant workers, just laid off from a factory."
Arthur smiled. "The man with a plan, that's you all right. I like the sound of some peace for a while. Now, I'm gonna talk strategy with the boys. We'll need all the usuals. I think John and Charles have healed up enough to rejoin us, though we'll just have them as scouts to be safe."
He was almost out the door when he remembered something. "And as you're packin' up camp tomorrow, don't forget the O'Driscoll in the barn. Though, I doubt he'd let you forget; he's the loudest damn wisp of a feller…"
"How long are you planning on leaving him starve?" Hosea asked pointedly. "I thought you'd question him before we left so we wouldn't have to drag him with us when we move."
Arthur frowned. "We'll see. If he doesn't talk tonight, we'll just hafta wait some more. I'll head over there after our meetin'." He began to leave, but stopped again. "And Hosea?"
"Yes?"
Arthur looked back with an expression of gratitude. "Thank you. For…yeah."
After the boy he'd helped raise left the room, Hosea slumped further into his chair. By God, how long had he been molded to seek approval? The answer made him feel sick: inch by inch.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
"I ain't got a lot o' time right now, but I just thought I'd ask in case you were gonna make this easy," Arthur stuck his head into the stables. "You gonna start talkin' yet?"
At the first sound of his voice, Kieran flinched. After a night of gentling snorting and pawing at the ground by his horse companions, it came across harshly. "I'm tellin' ya, mister, I was just in charge of the horses. They didn't tell me nothin'!"
He was completely unconvinced. "Hmm, about what I thought. Well, looks like you'll have to sit for a few days now. We've got ourselves a train to rob, and then we're headin' out. You'll be joinin' us as our special guest then."
"Train? Y-you mean the Cornwall?"
At that, Arthur's eyes narrowed. The dark expression on his face made Kieran shiver, and he internally cursed himself a million times over for running his mouth again. "Don't know nothin', huh? I'll keep that in mind, Kieran Duffy."
"They'll come for me, you know?" he blurted loudly, pulling at his restraints in a futile effort.
Instead of convincing him, the forceful way he'd stated it made Arthur think even he didn't believe it, that he was just trying to convince himself. "O'Driscoll could care less about a little shit like you, especially after the number we did on his camp. Have fun meditatin' on that one." The door slammed shut as he made his exit, and he secretly hoped to have rattled the already neurotic prisoner further. But as he walked away, Arthur started to wonder: why didn't the O'Driscoll look more…under duress? It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he'd had a drink, and yet his throat didn't seem parched when he spoke. The look of pure terror was also gone from his eyes, for better or for worse. When this robbery business was all over, he was going to have to have a camp meeting…
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Why'd he go and make that promise to Hosea? That he'd pull this heist off without a hitch? And then to not knock on wood afterwards? Of course it went wrong, and within a few seconds of the plan being put into motion. Bill pushed the detonator, intending to blow up the tracks and stop the train so they could rob it. Nothing happened. He hit it again. Still nothing. While everyone swore, panic rising amongst them as the train began pulling past, Arthur felt his stomach drop.
He'd helped Bill set up the wire. This was his fault.
"To the ridge! Plan B, we jump aboard!" he hollered behind his bandana as he led the charge. Micah probably shouted something snide to his back, but he wasn't listening. He'd wanted to hang back, keep the others in check while they did more of the dirty work he'd stopped being able to stomach since Eliza and Isaac's death. Now, thanks to his incompetence, he was probably going to have to do something he would regret.
He jumped off Tennessee and was the first to fling himself from the ridge and onto the top of the train cars. Javier and Lenny were the next two, always eager, but Javier didn't get a good grip and fell off. Arthur had to wince, hoping that he hadn't injured himself seriously in the fall. Lenny managed to hang on to the railing until Arthur could pull him up. As for the rest, they watched from the ridge, the last car already having passed them by. Out of their entire team, it was down to two men. They couldn't fail, though; the fate of the Van der Linde gang rested on them and this train robbery being successful. Even more, he'd promised Hosea he could do this.
"We're gonna have to stop this train the hard way," Arthur shouted over the noise of the wind.
"I'll take point," Lenny quickly volunteered, and Arthur couldn't deny he was glad for it.
It still didn't spare him from blood in the end.
Lenny cleaned up well. For such a well-mannered and academic boy, he had no qualms with pulling the trigger on the many security guards. Arthur remembered being the same when he was younger. He simply followed behind, making sure they were actually dead and not faking. When he got to the coal car, he flinched. Lenny had been grabbed by a hidden guard and was being slowly choked.
He didn't want to have to pull the trigger on an honest man, but he didn't want anything to happen to Lenny more. Lenny was his family. He fired, nailing the man in the head with the deadly aim he was notorious for.
"Thanks, Arthur," the boy gasped, rubbing his throat as he regained composure.
"No problem. Now, let's hit the brakes." It didn't matter what qualms he had; he couldn't let anyone else see them.
Once they did hit the brakes, the rest of the gang was not far behind, having ridden hard to follow. When more security guards poured out, Arthur could just sit back and watch the others work. He hoped it would sate the group's bloodlust for a while, especially if he was going to keep his word to Hosea about lying low in the coming weeks. All defenses terminated, they began the work of blowing open the locked car with the remaining dynamite. Three attendants were inside, dressed impeccably and no doubt employees of Leviticus Cornwall. Arthur volunteered to stay outside and keep watch over them with Charles and John while the rest went to work cleaning out the goods.
"What are you going to do with us?" one of them questioned with a shaky voice.
After dealing with the O'Driscoll kid, the frightened tone didn't even grate on him. "Once we take your boss's valuables, we'll load you right back up and send the train on its way. That is, as long as you behave yourself. We have no desire to kill more than we have to."
"You've killed enough," the man on the end accused.
"What are you doing? Shut up!" another colleague hissed at him.
He would not be detained. "Do you think you're not real bad men, even after what you did to them?" He gestured angrily with his head to the multiple corpses on the ground.
"Sam!" Now both his colleagues were shaking him, trying to get him to stop before the three heavily-armed outlaws lost their patience.
With a sigh, Arthur pulled out a cigarette and flicked the lighter. His nerves were about shot. "We know what we are. We ARE bad men."