I've been so excited for this chapter! We've reached a very important moment for Dutch's character arc. Having Isaac around has led to quite a few changes, and this is a big one!

Enjoy!

Chapter 53: Dutch

Dutch slid out of bed early, giving Annabelle a light kiss before walking down to the beach. Charles, Sadie, and Dutch returned from West Elizabeth late that night, but after several sleepless hours, he decided to free Annabelle from his tossing and turning.

He smiled fondly when he saw Charles, snoring from the chair in Arthur's- well, now Isaac's- tent. Given how close Arthur and Charles were, and how much time Charles spent with Isaac, Dutch wasn't surprised that Charles had come to care for the boy. He probably viewed Isaac as a son.

Good. Isaac needed all the support he could get.

When they got back, Dutch let Charles go straight to Isaac, and felt both selfless and selfish for doing it. He wanted to see Isaac, too, but didn't want to tell him the bad news. They didn't find Arthur.

And at this point, they might never find him.

Mrs. Adler spent days in Blackwater, watching the Pinkertons coming and going, pretending to submit a report about O'Driscolls in Hanging Dog Ranch to the Sheriff. Anything she could think of, and in the end, she didn't find him.

Dutch stood at the edge of the water, staring back across Flat Iron Lake towards Blackwater. If Arthur wasn't there, then what did those bastards do to him? A federal prison out west? Sisika over on the Lannahechee? If he wasn't dead and buried in an unmarked grave by now.

In either scenario, he'd failed Arthur. He was too late to save him.

But why? What went wrong?

Someone put Boadicea in that shed. Someone knew about Colm's plan and made sure Dutch didn't find out. At least, until it was already too late. Was it one of the O'Driscolls? Perhaps one of Colm's men didn't agree with the plan. Seeing how easily Dutch's gang swept through that ranch and killed all of them, those O'Driscolls had every reason to fear Dutch.

But if it wasn't a disgruntled O'Driscoll, then who? Not bounty hunters, they would have taken Arthur to the law. Which left only one option, the one he didn't want to think about. Someone in the gang was involved in Arthur's capture.

In a few hours, he'd visit Isaac. Check on him, see if there was anything he could learn.

"So, you're the one in charge, huh?"

Dutch spun around. An older man with long, gray hair and a wooden leg wandered down to the shore. Right, Isaac's friend Hamish was here. Hosea did mention that.

"You must be Hamish," he said as a greeting.

"And you are the famous outlaw, Dutch van der Linde."

Dutch stiffened, but Hamish just chuckled.

"Don't worry," Hamish said. "I won't tell the law about you. I care too much about Isaac and Arthur to put them in danger. No news, I take it?"

Dutch shook his head. "No news."

The mood sobered immediately. "I have to be heading back home today, after I say goodbye," Hamish said. "I trust you and Hosea will look after him?"

"Of course!" Dutch said, mildly offended by the idea that he wouldn't. "We aren't giving up on Arthur, either. We'll keep looking!"

"Good," Hamish said. "That's good."

Hamish patted Dutch on the shoulder and returned to Isaac's tent.

Dutch turned back to the water.

He really, really didn't want to think about someone in the gang betraying Arthur. But what else could it be?

Unfortunately, Isaac didn't know what happened, either. Though, as Hosea said, perhaps it was for the best. The boy struggled enough with the loss of Arthur and what little he could recall from his ordeal. Isaac didn't need interrogating him further.

Instead, Dutch hugged him and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry we were late. We're going to take care of you, I promise!"

He was back at the lake again.

Dutch sighed as two people walked up behind him. "What is it?" he asked.

"Morning, boss," Micah said.

"Good morning, Mr. Bell. Mr. Williamson."

"Me and Bill got something cooking with the Gray boys in town. Seems they want extra security for some big shipment coming in. Tell him about it, Bill."

Bill hung back, though, avoiding eye contact as he said, "I've been drinking with the Gray boys in the saloon. They've been looking for some extra security. Though, that was weeks ago before… you know."

"But they approached us again just the other day," Micah jumped in. "Only, we're running into problems."

"With what?" asked Dutch.

"Getting some of the gang to work with us!" Micah said. "The Grays want as many as we can get, but ain't nobody in this camp willing to lift a finger these past few weeks."

Dutch finally twisted around, staring down at Micah and Bill. "They're mourning, Mr. Bell. I realize you ain't been with us all that long, but Arthur is family to these people."

"I know he meant a lot to them, but I'm trying to feed folk," Micah tried placating. "Seems like I'm the only one these days."

"We have more than enough supplies at the moment," Dutch said. "And if we have to, we can go into our savings. I'm not going to force then back into work so soon."

Bill shrugged. "It probably wouldn't have paid too good anyway. I just went into town to see if any law are around."

"But shouldn't we keep working with the Grays? How else are we going to find this gold?" Micah said.

Dutch rubbed his eyes, trying to keep from snapping. Micah had been annoying him a lot, lately. So quick to leave Arthur for dead. What the hell was his problem?

"If you and Bill want to work with the Grays, then do it," Dutch said. "If they are desperate for security, I'm sure they'll be fine with just two of you."

"Of course, you're right," Micah conceded, though his slow drawl emphasized his displeasure. Bill nodded and left, but Micah stuck around. "How is Blackwater?"

"Still full of bounty hunters and some Pinkertons, but it seems Arthur is not there."

"But that Adler woman got in alright?"

"Of course. They don't know she's part of the gang." Yet, anyway. Given how well she fought at Hanging Dog Ranch, Dutch would gladly let her go robbing.

"Listen," Micah said, and Dutch groaned. He knew where this was headed. "If we're going to be feeding folk from the gang savings, it won't last too long. Now, if Adler can get into Blackwater, I'm sure I can sneak in and get the money. Bring it back here, and we'll be home free! We can look for Arthur as long as you want."

"And you'll just bring the money back here. Out of the kindness of your heart," Dutch growled.

"Of course I'll bring it back here!" Micah said, taking an exaggerated offense to Dutch's doubt. "I'd never rob you. I'm doing this because I care."

Micah was really starting to annoy him. "I'll think about it," Dutch said to end the conversation.

"Thank you."

Micah disappeared back into camp. He tried talking to Sean and got chased away. Same with Javier, and John didn't even bother to look at him while he refused.

Dutch went back to watching the boats on the water.

They could have taken Arthur to Saint Denis by boat. He should send some folk into the city to see if any Pinkertons were there. Then again, that brought his thoughts back to Sisika Penitentiary. The law boasted that it was impenetrable, though Dutch doubted that. But unless they knew for sure Arthur was there, they couldn't risk it.

Now, there was shouting in camp. Dutch rolled his eyes. Micah was causing more problems.

"Listen! Face it, all of you! Arthur Morgan is dead! But we're not!" Micah shouted. "You need- ow, fuck!"

John punched Micah hard in the face. "What the fuck did you say? You think you know anything?"

Micah swung his fist back at John, but John caught it and kneed Micah in the gut.

Micah wheezed. "You just letting him fight in camp?" he asked the crowd around them.

Hosea shrugged and took a long sip from his coffee cup. No one else moved.

"What the hell is going on?" Dutch shouted, his voice cracking.

"He attacked me, Dutch," Micah said, holding his bruised face.

"I heard what you said," Dutch replied. "Did I not tell you just now to leave the camp alone? To let them grieve? Go cool off somewhere else, Mr. Bell!"

With a huff, Micah grabbed Baylock and galloped out of camp. The tension in camp released immediately. Annabelle slid next to Dutch and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Thank you," she said. "He's been such an ass these past few… well ever."

"He's really getting on my nerves," Dutch said. "I know it's taken some folk a little longer to get used to how this gang works, but… I don't know."

Micah had been the one trying to set up a meeting with the O'Driscolls.

Well, Pearson was the one who actually talked to them, but considering how the man had lost all enthusiasm for cooking and Navy stories the past few weeks, Pearson didn't seem capable of betraying Arthur.

"Might be time to cut him loose," Annabelle suggested.

"Maybe." But Dutch was going to talk with him, first. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Well, I'm throwing up less," she said.

"That's good."

"I still feel… off. I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired and stressed from all of this."

"You should see a doctor," Dutch said. "I've been telling you that for weeks now."

"There's not much a doctor can do about stress," Annabelle said. "But fine. Once we figure out what we're doing."

What were they doing? How long could they wait before they moved on? If Dutch was being honest with himself, they needed a fresh start. Get out of the south, find a way back west. But doing so would mean abandoning Arthur for good. Accepting that they wouldn't get him back.

And Dutch wasn't sure he'd ever be able to give up on Arthur.

Though, just a few hours later, something else took priority.

"Have you seen Jack?" John asked.

"No, I haven't," Dutch said.

"I think he heard what Micah said about Arthur," said John. "We checked the beach and in the tents, but we can't find him!"

Dutch squeezed John's shoulder. "I'm sure he's fine, off playing with the dog or something."

"Cain is with Isaac."

Sure enough, Cain was rolled over on his back and begging for pets in front of Isaac, though the boy was looking around worried as well. "I'll take a look in the woods," Dutch said. "We'll find him, okay? I'm sure he didn't go far."

"Okay," John said, his voice shaking a little.

"Come on," Dutch said. "He's probably just a little scared. It's been a hard few weeks."

"He knows something happened to Arthur and Isaac, but Abigail and I… we haven't told him the details," John said.

"Let's find him, and then we'll figure out what to say to him."

They walked into the woods between their camp and the road, calling Jack's name. Where was that boy? He couldn't have wandered that far!

"What the hell?" John said, running towards something on the ground. A body. Not Jack, but an adult. "Kieran?"

Kieran groaned when John flipped him over, clutching at his head. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I tried to stop them."

"Hold still, son," Dutch said. "You might have a concussion."

"They took the kid."

"What?"

"I think they were Braithwaite boys," Kieran said.

"The Braithwaites have Jack?" John asked, his hand going to his revolver.

"Are you sure?" Dutch said.

"I'm sorry," Kieran said again.

Dutch realized his fingers were tightening around Kieran's arm, and he quickly loosened them. "Come on. Let's get you back to camp."

They could not lose Jack. Not John's child. Dutch hoped Kieran was misremembering things, but deep down he knew it was true. They'd stayed too long, forgot about those two families!

It seems they didn't forget about the gang.

Abigail ran up to Dutch, Kieran, and John when they returned. "Where is he? Where is my goddamn son?"

"The Braithwaites kidnapped him," John said.

"What?"

"We'll get him, Abigail, I promise," Dutch said. "Just give Kieran some space so we can find out what happened."

"I'm sorry, Abigail," Kieran said as Susan started fussing over his head. "I saw them and tried to stop them, but one of them got behind me."

"Where is he? If anything happens to him-"

"Calm down. Everyone just relax," Dutch said. It was easier to pretend to be calm for others. "We will find him, we will bring him back to you, and we will kill any fool that had the temerity to touch one hair on that boy's head. Abigail, John, you have my word."

No one else. He wasn't going to lose anyone else.

"Just get me back my son," Abigail said.

"I will get that boy back, so help me God. Right now," Dutch said, going for the horses. John, Annabelle, and Hosea followed quickly behind.

"Dutch!" Bill called out, and Dutch was relieved to see that Bill hadn't gone to work with the Grays after all. Charles, Sean, Lenny, and Javier were right behind him. "We just heard about Jack. You need some extra guns?"

"Of course."

"I want to come, too," Isaac said.

"No," Dutch said.

"I can help!"

"I ain't putting you in danger," Dutch said. "You can help by protecting the camp. You and Mrs. Adler."

"You're leaving me behind, too?" Sadie shouted, annoyed.

"We need folk here in case there are more Braithwaites around," Annabelle said to her.

"Rest of you, let's ride!" Dutch said.

The sun was setting behind the trees as the line of riders left Clemens Point. Dutch took the lead, with Hosea and John right behind. The Braithwaites would pay for this, just as Colm O'Driscoll paid for what he did to Arthur and Isaac. Just like those Pinkertons would pay as soon as Dutch found them.

No one else.

"They must have figured out what we was up to, Dutch," Hosea said.

"I hope the Grays haven't put it together as well," Annabelle said.

"We'll deal with that later," Dutch said. "We have to focus on Jack."

"I swear, I'll kill everyone there!" John snarled.

"Easy, John. Try to stay calm."

"I should have watched him better."

"It's not your fault, John. And we are going to fix it, so come on!"

They turned down the long driveway leading to the plantation house. The Braithwaites flaunted their old, stolen wealth in pristine white fencing and perfectly spaced trees that towered over the path, casting shadows against the moonlight. Lanterns lit up the house, and no guards waited at the arch.

"Alright everyone, dismount and come to me," Dutch said. "We'll go in on foot from here. You sure you're okay, John?"

"I'm fine," John growled.

Dutch drew his revolver. "Follow my lead. This redneck family thinks they can ruin us? I don't think so."

"There they are," Hosea said, gesturing to the front door as several armed men stepped outside.

"Who steals a goddamn boy?"

"I'm gonna let fly at those sons of bitches!" John said.

"John, I need you to stay calm," Dutch said. Calm, so Dutch could at least try to talk to these Braithwaites, whether he expected it to work or not. Calm, so John could comfort that boy when they had him back. "Get down here now! You inbred trash!"

"What the hell do you want?" one of the sons said.

"We've come for the boy. You must have known we would."

"Shouldn't have messed with out business now, should you?" the son said, as if he was in any position to lecture Dutch about his wrongdoings.

Dutch breathed in deep. "Whatever complaint you have with us, alleged or otherwise, that is a young boy. That is not the way you do things. Hand him over."

"Get the hell of our land," another Braithwaite said, waving his gun. More emerged from the house.

"If you ain't gonna be civilized about this," Dutch said, right before he shot the first Braithwaite in the chest. Behind him, the gang dove for cover, but not Dutch. He kept firing and walking forward until he reached the low wall. "Bill, Javier, cover left! Anna, John, Hosea, with me! The rest of you, watch out here for any other arrivals."

Once all the Braithwaites on the balcony were dead, Dutch moved for the house. He kicked down the door and shouted, "Get in there! Find Jack! And find that Braithwaite woman!"

John went to the rooms on the right, and Hosea went to the left. Dutch and Annabelle ran up the stairs, throwing open every room. They pushed open every room until they found a door that wouldn't budge.

"Barricaded," Annabelle muttered, leaning all her weight onto it with no result. "This must be where they're holed up."

"Hosea, John, get up here and give us a hand," Dutch called down the stairs.

"There's something pushed up against it."

"Are you in there?" Dutch asked. "Open the goddamn door!"

The Braithwaites responded by firing a buckshot into the wood. Dutch and Annabelle both jumped back just as John arrived.

"You alright?" John asked.

"Shit! John, Hosea, we'll hold them down here. See if you can find another way in."

Outside, Charles yelled, "We got more coming in!"

"John, get out there! We've got this door covered."

Dutch continued to push on the door while the shooting started outside. Wave after wave of Braithwaites and their guards rode down the driveway, but the gang cut many of them down before they could even fire a shot. This family… they underestimated Dutch's gang. And how far they would go to protect one of their own.

Soon, Hosea and John were moving to the other side of the room. This fancy house with its balcony wrapping around the entire second floor left too many entryways available, and he heard John and Hosea burst through one of those doors and shoot two men just before he and Annabelle managed to open their own.

The Braithwaite woman screamed in the next room, still in her nightgown. She hadn't expected them to make it this far, all the way into her sanctuary, and for some reason, it made Dutch smile.

But they weren't victorious yet. Dutch grabbed her by the collar and shoved her against a wall. "You want me to kill you too, old woman?"

"You bastards," she spat.

"Where's the boy?" Hosea asked.

She straightened her spine. "We have lived in this house for a hundred and twenty years. We never had no problems 'cept for Yankees."

"Where is the boy?" Hosea repeated, slower and clearer. "Who took him?"

"You killed my sons!"

"Oh, and I will surely kill the rest of them unless you start talking," Dutch said, placing the barrel of his revolver under her chin.

"Oh, I know your type," she said. "Common scum."

By that point, Dutch had lost all patience. "Where is the boy?" he asked, one last time.

The Braithwaite woman glared back at him. "You filth," she said.

Dutch yanked her off the wall. "Alright, we get her outta here," Dutch said.

"What about them?" John asked, even though both her sons were dead.

Dutch put another shot into the closest son while Catherine Braithwaite wailed.

"Let's get this hag outside. Any more of her sons to deal with?"

"I reckon they're all dead," Hosea said.

She grabbed the staircase railing, trying to claw her way back upstairs. Dutch dragged her down.

"You sure Jack ain't in here?" Dutch asked.

"We searched everywhere, Dutch," Hosea said.

"Alright, let's burn this dump to the ground!"

Flames ate through the old wood and carpeting, sending sparks flying in the foyer before Dutch left the manor.

"I guess that's the end of the goddamn cribbage game," Hosea said as Dutch hauled Catherine Braithwaite over his shoulder and carried her the rest of the way out of the house.

"Put me down! You damn Yankee!" she cried, beating on him. Eventually, Dutch dumped her in front of the gang. "I never liked you."

"Why'd you take the boy, Mrs. Braithwaite," Hosea asked.

"You stole my liquor!"

"Boys are off limits."

"You stole my horses! Ain't no rules in war, Mr…"

"Matthews."

"Yes, yes, that's it," she said, her eyes glancing back at her precious, burning house.

"Where's the boy?" Hosea asked again.

She met Hosea's eyes with a defiant glare. "My sons gave him to Angelo Bronte. So my guess is Saint Denis. Either there or on a boat to Italy."

"Let's go!" Hosea said, satisfied with the answer.

"What about her?" John asked.

"Leave her," Dutch said. She was already broken. There was nothing left they could do to punish her for kidnapping Jack. Proving his point, Catherine Braithwaite staggered back to her burning manor to die with it and her family.

Hosea scoffed, "I told you she was crazy."

They didn't sleep.

After hours of explaining what happened to the gang members who stayed behind and assuring John and Abigail that they had a lead, they would find Jack safe and sound.

Micah had come back at some point during the night, so at least they wouldn't have to track him down. Dutch immediately sent him on watch so the others could rest. He'd talk to him later, once they had a plan for Jack.

Annabelle was holding Abigail and crying with her while Dutch and Hosea dealt with John, who finally calmed down enough to sit.

"It's going to work out, John," Hosea said. "It's going to work out, listen to Dutch."

"I know it's not the best time, but I'm proud of you for keeping your head," Dutch said.

John sighed. "First Arthur, now Jack. I can't lose any more family, Dutch."

"I know, but looking at this logically, that boy is fine," said Dutch. He almost believed it himself. "They took him to scare us. Nobody takes a boy to harm him."

"He's right, John."

"Now, we'll get ourselves over to Saint Denis, track down this Bronte, and get out of this godforsaken state," Dutch said.

"Boss!"

Shit, what now?

"We got a problem," Micah said from behind a small group of lawmen. Gray coats and red vests, their shiny badges on the breast pocket. Pinkertons. At least ten of them, getting off their horses with a prison wagon trailing behind. Dutch's hand curled into a fist.

"Not a problem," the leader said. "Visitors. A solution. Good day fine people. Mr. Van der Linde. Mr. Matthews, I presume. And who are you?"

John stood up, his hand on his revolver. "Rip Van Winkle," he said.

"Huh," the Pinkerton said. "Good day, sir. Agent Milton, Pinkerton Detective Agency. And Agent Ross."

"And to what do we owe the pleasure, Agent Moron?" Dutch asked.

"I don't know if you're aware but this is a civilized land now!"

"Civilized?" Dutch asked. He stood and straightened slowly, trying to contain his rage. "Do civilized people conspire with outlaws to arrest an innocent man? My son?"

"Ah, so you do know about Mr. Morgan," Milton said, not backing down. "That makes this easier."

Milton let out a sharp whistle, and two of his lackeys dragged something out the back of the prison wagon. Not something, someone!

He'd been stripped down to just his dirty, soiled union suit, his face was purple and yellow from all the bruising, but Dutch would recognize Arthur anywhere. The Pinkerton threw Arthur at Milton's feet. He didn't look like he was awake. He didn't even look like he was breathing! Dutch was about to gun down every Pinkerton in front of him and damn the consequences when he heard a shout.

"Pa!"

Dutch whipped around, holding out a hand to stop Isaac, but Charles caught him first. "Don't look! Please don't look!" he said, holding Isaac tight.

"No, let me go!" Isaac said, struggling. "Pa!"

"So, that's Morgan's son, isn't it?" Milton said. He hauled Arthur up and shoved his revolver under Arthur's chin, giving Dutch a better look at the injuries. "He really wanted us to go rescue him."

A thought intruded his head, the horrible thought that Arthur told the Pinkertons how to find the gang. But looking over his son again, Dutch only felt horror.

What did they do to break his son?

"Here's the deal, Dutch," said Milton. "You come with me, and Morgan and the rest have three days to run off, disappear, and live like human beings someplace else."

The camp held it's breath. Some gang members shook their heads, others pulled out their guns. But Dutch could only look at Arthur and listen to Isaac's sobbing.

He made a promise. To both of them.

Dutch glanced at Annabelle, not sure what he was looking for. Comfort, perhaps? Maybe permission. She was staring down the Pinkertons and only briefly met his eye.

Dutch dropped his revolvers.

"I accept."

The gang started protesting, but Dutch only had eyes for Annabelle. She had tears in her eyes, but she nodded.

"What the hell, Boss?"

"Dutch?"

He slid the rings off his fingers and took off his pocket watch. He didn't want those lawmen using or selling them.

"Why would he do that?"

"Dutch!"

Hosea squeezed his shoulder in support. Between him and Annabelle, the gang would be fine. Dutch stepped forward with his hands in the air.

"Listen, all of you!" Dutch said. "Let them take me. Look after Arthur, find Jack, and get yourselves good and lost!"

Ross grabbed Dutch and slammed him into the dirt. Milton finally let Arthur go as well, keeping his gun drawn in case the gang had any bright ideas of fighting back.

"D-Dutch?"

He turned his head to Arthur, sprawled out only a few feet away. His eyes were clouded and unfocused, but somehow Arthur knew Dutch was there.

"It's going to be okay, son," Dutch managed to say before he was hauled up. "You'll be okay now."

"Dutch?"

They dragged him to the prison wagon and chained him up in the back. As they drove out of camp, Dutch reassured himself that Arthur would be alright. Hosea and Susan were crouched over him while the rest watched the lawmen take their leader away.

They'd be fine. Dutch could take comfort in that.