It turned out that most of the haul involved bonds. This made Arthur nervous. Gold, you could sell. Money? Already done. But bonds…that was a messy business. Arthur hoped that Leopold Strauss could work his magic with them, find the right person to pick them up, but he wasn't going to bank on it. Instead, he sent the rest of the gang back to camp with the papers, telling them he was going to send off the train and take care of the prisoners.

He did, of course. Wouldn't put any bullets through their heads, that was not his way, but he did tie them up and throw them back into their luxury car. Then, he started looting everything in sight that had any kind of value. The pockets of every security guard were picked clean: bottles of bourbon and fine cigars, belt buckles and rings. Once he was certain he'd cleaned the place out top to bottom, he finally restarted the engine and hopped off. All the way back to Colter, he wondered how Dutch had always managed to be so confident, even when things didn't work out. He was already feeling a bit nauseous as he considered the wrath he'd incurred for such a petty haul. First big decision as leader, one he'd fought Hosea on, and it might very well be a flop.

His spirits did raise some when he got back and saw most of the camp already packed into the wagons. Time to get out of that hell-hole and into some decent weather! Hosea was standing outside the cabins, directing the flow of goods, so Arthur rode over to report in. "Everybody make it back?"

"Yes. That's a relief. But…" he frowned. "They say it was mostly bonds. Of course, the majority of those boys haven't got a clue what that even means, but…"

Arthur fought the urge to duck his head. Not while others were around. "I grabbed everything I could that was worth anything." He wasn't going to mention that it was maybe $15 in spare change and some trinkets.

Hosea noticed his remorse. He lowered his voice. "Don't rule out anything yet, Herr Strauss has an uncanny way of working magic with money. And if we can't do anything with them, think of it this way: we just relieved a bunch of debtors their debts to a rich son of a bitch. Sounds a lot like what we stood for at one point, doesn't it?"

Arthur did brighten a little at that. "Yer right, like always. I'll just have to pass around the fancy liquor I picked up after we set up camp down the line and they'll be too drunk to ask too many questions, huh?"

He chuckled. "Drunk and satisfied after pulling a heist. It should buy us some time. Now, we're about ready to take off. We were just loading up a few extra things, and…"

"Hey, Arthur!" Charles called. It was strange to hear him raise his voice. When he looked over in his direction, he saw Charles was leading Kieran Duffy from the stables. The scrawny prisoner was practically wilting under the hostile glares. Sadie in particular looked like she would love nothing more than to murder him where he stood, and the boy clearly recognized it. "Where do you want us to stash the O'Driscoll?"

"I told you I hate 'em," he muttered half-heartedly, squirming against Charles' grip on his forearm.

A slow, sadistic smile crossed Arthur's face. "Put 'im in the wagon with Uncle. Let 'im hear all about his 'lumbago'. That might speed up the confession process."

Even stoic Charles had to grin at that. "Can do."

"But first things first…" Arthur began to stroll towards the pair as he unknotted his bandana, amused at the way the boy's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Perhaps this kid was learning after all. "Believe me when I say you're gonna wanna add this, for the sake of all our sanity during the ride." With little finesse, he pulled the material between his teeth, earning a frustrated groan from his victim. Arthur's nose wrinkled a bit as he tied the knot, noting how greasy his hair was. Maybe once they arrived he'd leave him out in the rain to get a decent rinse…

Satisfied he'd be unable to slip his gag off, Arthur gave a mocking pat on his bearded cheek. "Now behave and keep yer mouth shut or we might be tempted to toss you into the nearest river and be done with you, am I clear?" The muffled yelp of panic this earned caused him to chuckle. He was WAY too easy to fluster. "All righty then Charles, I think we've got our understandin'. Go pack 'im up."

"Got it, Arthur." His grip remained gentle but firm as he dragged the dejected O'Driscoll away.

Once Kieran was stowed, and the few other goods the gang still had were packed up, Arthur and Hosea's wagon signaled the train to begin moving. It proved to be an uneventful trip as the freezing mountains gradually morphed to temperate woods, not that Arthur was complaining; it gave him plenty of time to figure out what he was going to tell the group when they arrived. Having Hosea next to him, he bounced a few ideas off of him and got the orders he'd promised to follow. The long journey went faster than he'd expected, and soon the convoy was pulling off the main road onto a path nearly concealed by the undergrowth. Horseshoe Overlook.

After all those days in the Grizzlies, the vista was breathtaking. The fact that one could walk around without three layers on was also a plus. There was still plenty of tree cover while allowing for ample open space, and it just felt as if the hilltop was waiting to be lived on. Arthur slapped Hosea on the back. "Gotta say, old man, ya chose damn well. I was worried, comin' so far out east towards civilization, but I can't wait to put down some tent stakes here."

Hosea shrugged modestly before standing on the bench of the wagon. "Everyone, may I have your attention please? Attention please!" His voice didn't cut the way Arthur's did, but one look at the respected man and every member of the camp ceased their excited chatter. "This will be our new home for several weeks, until the work dries up. Arthur has done an excellent job of getting us out of the Grizzlies in one piece, but now it is my turn to make a few calls of my own. My number one concern at this point is finding some low risk or legitimate work until the Blackwater storm blows over. Head out into town and get the gossip. Pick a few pockets. Take bounties if your trigger finger is itching. For all they know, we are wandering workers, and I intend for it to stay that way until we have a large-scale job planned. We will not rush into anything until we are fully prepared. Our ultimate goal is California, and land to retire on."

There was a general muttering at his words, so Arthur decided it was his turn. At least he'd had plenty of time to practice this in his head. "Now look, we've just come off a long string of big jobs, and I don't think I need to mention that our success rate was sufferin' as the Pinkertons caught onto us. Some of you are convinced Blackwater was a set up, but honestly, it was the security we shoulda been expectin' for a haul of that quantity, even if it didn't used to be. We can't keep bein' reckless if we don't wanna find ourselves riddled with bullets. I agree with Hosea on this. It's time we start figurin' out for ourselves where we wanna end up in five years, because by then the world is gonna be…changed. Hosea and I, we've been doin' this the longest of all y'all, seen a lot of things. This ain't nothin' we've seen before. Believe both of us when we say, what we want most is to see our little family get to the other side of this safely."

"I didn't join this gang to play errand boy and set aside money for retirement!" The voice that cut through was regrettably familiar by this point. Micah jumped off his wagon and stormed closer to the speakers. "I joined to make the law bleed and take my share. If old men like you two wanna play it safe and sell out, then leave the rest of us to do what we came here to do!"

"Yeah Morgan, does this mean you intend to have us disband now that Dutch is gone? I spent my whole life workin' for this. I ain't gonna give it up here in my prime!"

It was one thing for Micah to call him out, but when he heard John Marston's voice, he could feel his blood already beginning to boil. That stupid, selfish brat… "You of all people should be concerned about stayin' safe!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've got a FAMILY, Marston!"

Hosea knew where this was headed. It wasn't the first time his two boys went at it tooth and nail, and it wouldn't be the last. Right now in front of a confused crowd was not the time. "BOYS!" he shouted. He didn't shout except in special occasions, so when both Arthur and John heard it, they fell silent, though the death glares persisted.

"Hosea, sir, what about resisting the government? What about freedom? Dutch always believed that was our purpose, and we all believed that." Javier was calm, but he still looked incredibly troubled.

"Boys, as Arthur said, we're not here to make the decision today and for all of you. It is something we all need to come together and determine. First, though, we need to get strong once more. The train heist helped get us back on our feet, but there is still a lot of work to do. A lot of money was lost in Blackwater. All I'm asking is for you to be discreet right now, and we can decide on a long-term plan later. Does that seem agreeable to you all?"

There was a chorus of uh-huhs and yessirs. Micah noticeably scowled and refused to acknowledge the statement.

"We've got a few jobs we know for a fact need doin' right away," Arthur resumed. "We need scouts to check for Pinkerton presence in Strawberry Hill. Lenny, Micah, you are fresher faces around here. We'll be sending you two once we get camp established here. Herr Strauss, we need you to take a look at the bonds we scored on the train and see if you can't find a taker. Charles, we'll need your hunting prowess to get Pearson stocked up. The rest of you, we'll be putting camp together." Arthur looked up at the sky, now growing dark as the sun sank beyond the horizon. "Let's get to it, everyone. Let's get settled."

It was a flurry of action once the meeting was adjourned. Miss Grimshaw was a seasoned veteran of assembling and disassembling camps, and she was already barking orders at the girls of the group. The men started unloading wagons of the heavier equipment. Arthur was finally convinced the flames of resentment had died down, so he turned to his own wagon to grab something. He nearly ran over Strauss.

"Pardon me, Arthur. I was wondering if I could get to Valentine at some point to work on finding some…clients…in addition to my work with the bonds."

Arthur inhaled deeply. This was something that he and Hosea had agreed on without debate, but that didn't make it any easier to have to break the news to Leopold. He had really hoped he wouldn't have to the same day as giving that speech, but nothing was ever easy. "Herr Strauss, Hosea and I have been talkin'. Dutch had started to let a lot of things go in recent years that we never used to do. Originally, we were all about helpin' the poor." He waited for that to sink in, but Strauss just blinked behind is circular glasses emotionlessly. "That bein' said, we wanna steer back to that mindset. Loansharkin' doesn't hurt the rich people that we wanna hurt, it just hurts poor people, people like you and me and everybody else in the gang before we were taken in. Now, mebbe it's a kind of survival of the fittest thing, but all the same…there have gotta be better ways to make a dollar. Until further notice, we don't want you to be tryin' to get people hooked with loans, okay?"

It was always impossible to read Strauss, but there was the faintest hint of something in his voice when he spoke. "Does that mean you have no more use for me, Mister Morgan?"

"Aww hell no!" he objected quickly. "You're the ledger keeper. You're the money expert. Nobody can handle bonds except you. You'll still have plenty o' work." He paused. "We ain't gonna cut ya loose, Herr Strauss, you're one of us! We just wanna find different work for ya, that's all. We good?"

"I understand." He seemed perhaps a bit disappointed, but he was no Micah, screaming about whatever bothered him. "I shall see to your bonds then."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Much obliged, Herr Strauss. I thank you for your understandin'."

With a nod, they split up. When Arthur turned to grab his things, he found they were already gone, taken while he was deep in his conversation. He just shrugged and looked for something else.

There, in the very back of the wagon… He crawled in to get at the crate, and curiosity got the better of him. When he lifted the lid, his heart sank. The gramophone, and several of Dutch's favorite records. It must have been stored in here the day they fled Blackwater, and never removed when they set up in Colter. There were probably several other effects of his floating around. Damn, every time he seemed to forget for a second the reality of what he had lost, another reminder popped up. Part of him wanted to throw the thing off the cliff so he wouldn't have to look at it, much less hear it ever again. He just knew that if one of those old records started to play, he would lose it. The other, more reasonable part of him knew the better option would be to leave it with Hosea so he could treasure that bit of nostalgia tied to his long-time partner in crime. Sure, he'd probably fire it up at some point, flooding Arthur with the emotions he feared, but Hosea deserved the chance to do what he needed to heal. He was the only person more devastated by the loss of Dutch than him.

Well, perhaps not. By all accounts, Molly O'Shea was Dutch's biggest devotee. Arthur would have given it to her instead if she were here, but like so many other things tied to Dutch, she had simply disappeared the day he died, never rendezvousing with the party. It wasn't surprising, seeing as she had only entered the gang for him, but he still had to wonder what happened to her. One less tent to set up in the camp.

Well, no. He could let Sadie have the tent. Poor woman would need a place to sleep. It wasn't as if the O'Driscoll needed it…

Wait. Where was the O'Driscoll? Had he been 'unpacked'? Arthur jumped out of the wagon and scanned the area urgently until he found his man, leaning against a tree near where Pearson's tent was being set up (whoever did that was getting bonus points for creativity in torture), his wrists bound behind the tree with a single length of rope. The icing on the cake was Sadie herself standing before him, taking a long drink of something from a bottle, and then proceeding to dump the rest of the contents on the ground right at his feet. They'd been kind enough to remove his gag, and his anguished whine could be heard across the camp.

Ahh, things were settling in nicely despite it all.