Chapter 3
An Offer You Can't...Ignore
"Need a room. One preferably with two beds. If you can accommodate." Carlos greeted the hotel manager as he picked through his pockets. The manager was your average looking older man. Big beard atop his upper lip, glasses on his face, and seemingly cordial. Though that was just by a glance.
"Hmm, not many two rooms with two beds 'round these parts. But, you're in luck. I've got one available on the upper floor." The manager began, lowering himself down and finding a dangling key from some unseen cabinet. "You'll have to uh...forgive the noise though."
"Noise?" Carlos repeated, cocking a brow and taking the key from the man. Whom in kind seemed mildly uncomfortable. Checking left and right before setting his gaze back on Carlos.
"Room 2A, this feller Harville Presley, he well...kind of lives in there these days."
"And?"
"And well…" Again the manager grimaced. "He has a sort of debilitating bowel issue."
"No shit?" Carlos replied. Though quickly hiding a grin as he realized the irony of what he just said.
"Yep," The manager nodded. "He barely leaves the room. How he manages to pay for it? Couldn't tell ya'. Every doctor 'round these parts has come to try and help alleviate the poor bastard, but hasn't seemed to help in any way. But, uh the noise complaint…"
"Ah." Carlos nodded with a creeping smirk along his features. "I think I get your meaning. Shouldn't be no concern, long as you have a room. We, that's me and my colleague, won't be staying in town for too long. But, a room with beds is a room with beds." Carlos shook his head. Finding two dollars from his pocket and passing them to the man.
"Well, as long as you're okay with it. And, uh, sorry for the inconvenience."
"No issue. Where is this room? 2C?"
"Right up the stairs take a left and it's down the hall. Only one you'll see. Most of my rooms are through the side entrance along the outside of the building, so only 2A, B and, C are in this part of the upper floor."
"Got it. My regards on your...terminal tenant, sir." Carlos gave a halfhearted salute, and the manager chuckled softly. "Oh," Carlos paused as he reached the first step. "Tell the big bastard that makes his way in here with a shotgun where our room is, would you sir?"
"Uh, big bastard with a shotgun?"
"You'll know him when you see him. Good day sir." Carlos smirked and made his way up the stairs. Reaching the top he paused. The sounds of...crying, groaning and whimpering reached his ears.
"What the hell?" He paused at the top set. Turning his head right he saw a hall leading to two rooms. The first, of course, being 2A. He took a step nearer and heard the groaning wails from within grow just a bit louder.
"I hear you out there!" A voice, muffled as it was called out. "Leave me be! Everyone just leave me be! Oh God!"
"Apologies." Carlos intoned, more to himself. Incapable of restraining himself from chuckling as he turned down the left side of the hall. Finding 2C and unlocking it with the key.
The interior wasn't anything to write home about. Two well enough tended beds, with simple cloth sheets and white pillows with somewhat withering and stained cases over top of 'em. A single window, shaded and covered along the right looking towards the neighboring bank., as well as two drawers. Small ones between the beds, and another on the opposing side of the one nearest the door. As well, a wardrobe and standing mirror to the left and corner respectively.
"This'll do." Carlos nodded. Not caring to close the door as he moved in and plopped himself down on the nearest bed. His mind flashing over many things as he removed his mud splattered shoes. Not the greatest pair of shoes to be wearing in this muddy country, but it was what he had.
"Bene…" (Okay…) - Carlos sighed and placed the shoes to the side. Allowing himself to lean onto his knees. The trip up to St. Louis, the discussions had there with Lucio, and having made the moves he had made thus far. All those years of waiting and thinking, and managing and building. He was close. But...he tried to restrain himself. It could all go to shit tomorrow! If he didn't keep his head while everyone was losing theirs.
"And they'll be losing them soon." He intoned to himself, running his right hand down across his face for no particular reason.
This place, Valentine, Carlos had already seen much of the country charm it had to offer. Cowboys, saloon brawls, seemingly random acts of violence against women, street beatings and poor sick bastards begging for money in those same streets. Albeit not necessarily for himself.
Though, thinking of Thomas Downes did leave a renewed old sour thought and taste in Carlos' mouth. He didn't like sharks...found them all to be roaches. Festering parasites that added nothing, but took much...too much. The feeble feasting on the weak. The desperate turned into cattle from where you milk them until utterly dry. If they cannot be, then you beat the cow, hurt the cow, steal from them. Sure, not every fool who took money from a shark was so good or noble or moral a person. Some were as miserable and sniveling as the lender. Yet...Carlos reeled himself back in with a low sigh. Averting his gaze to the plain wooden wall behind his bed.
"Not everyone can pay. Not everyone is smart with their money." Carlos smacked his teeth and shook his head. Undoing the buttons on his vest as he glanced outside the window. Noticing the daylight was beginning to dim some. Once the last button was undone he released a long weary sigh he hadn't known to be in him and he laid his back across the bed. The groan of the frame sounding as he did. Deciding to wait for Ruggero to get back before he allowed himself to get too tired.
Deciding to think instead. About Saint Denis, about St. Louis, about Chicago, New York, hell Kansas City! So many more like he and Ruggero in this country. So many coming and bringing the ways of the home country with them. But...none of them were Angelo. None of them were that conniving rat, with his ill manners. His horrid attitude, and lack of any real honor! Not to mention his wardrobe, comico! (Comical!) - Carlos grumbled to himself once more. Bringing his hands up to his face. Rubbing furiously and willing such thoughts away. He was getting too riled up. Riled up and tired, a bad combination for anyone. He'd just wait for Ruggero. Staring up at the simple creaking roof of this place...
…
"Settling in I see?" Carlos snapped his eyes open. Immediately seething a lowly uttered curse as he sprung up into a sit along the bed. His back stiff and unhappy.
"Dannazione a me!" (Goddamn me!) - Carlos uttered as he stretched his arms to dispel the aches he felt stab at his back muscles.
"Let's not tempt the Almighty, brother." Ruggero chuckled. Entering the room and closing the door behind him. "You leave a door open in this place you could get robbed, or worse."
"I hadn't meant to nap."
"Ah, but nap you had." Ruggero smirked and pulled his shotgun from off his shoulder. Moving to the wardrobe to the left and placing it along it. "Don't worry, it wasn't long...I don't think."
"Shut up." Carlos grumbled, smacking his own right cheek as he sniffled. "How'd it go?"
"Eh." Ruggero shrugged as he followed in Carlos' steps. Removing his dirty shoes and undoing his vest. "Mendoza is a slow fool, but he did send what he could."
"I assume you and he did not overwork the local telegrapher?"
"Ah, I don't think so. Besides, he was paid for his services." Ruggero nodded absently. Removing a small bundle of papers from his pocket. All of them message cards.
"He get suspicious?" Carlos wondered, and took the cards as Ruggero offered them.
"No, funnily enough. He assumed I was a bounty hunter."
"You could fit the look." Carlos nodded. Though he did pause as the words filtered through his mind. "Wait, bounty hunter? He's received messages of these men already. The telegrapher I mean." He stated not asked, and Ruggero nodded moving to his bed and plopping himself down unceremoniously.
"I got this too." Ruggero pulled a slightly damp newspaper from underneath his now opened vest. "Paper boy was standing out in the rain. Bought this off him. I saw this article." Ruggero passed it to Carlos who swiveled himself to face Ruggero along his own cot. He took the paper, it crinkled loudly as all newspapers did, and he found the article in question.
"'Blackwater Massacre suspects, the Van der Linde Gang.'" Carlos began, reading aloud. "'Though having seemingly escaped all recent searches as of the past few weeks; it is now believed that some of them have crossed the Grizzlies into the east. Potentially reaching as far as Lemoyne. Though no sightings have been confirmed – the recent robbery of a train belonging to esteemed Businessman, Leviticus Cornwall, has led to a surge in funding for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Mr. Cornwall has stated that his personal funding of the Agency is in tandem with local and Federal government operations to finally rid the west of…' so on and so forth." Carlos trailed off.
"Mmmhmm." Ruggero hummed. "Mendoza also mentioned the members of the gang who are of top priority to bounty hunters, the law, and the Pinkertons. Such as its leader, Dutch Van der Linde, a Hosea Matthews, and Arthur Morgan. Among which there are other names, but they're of lower priority. Though none have a bounty below five hundred dollars."
"They certainly are known." Carlos absently nodded and grabbed the telegram cards. Reading over the names, and some details of the so called 'Blackwater Massacre.'
"They're known alright, and sloppy." Ruggero offered.
"How do you mean?"
"Just before. In broad daylight you had two of them, not to mention some of the lesser known underlings all gathered on a stoop. Using their names as though nobody would listen or care."
"They must not think anyone in town gives a damn, and," Carlos countered as his eyes scanned some of the names. "From what little I've seen most of this town doesn't give a damn. 'Bunch of country boys not looking to stick their noses into others' businesses. Which is probably giving them cover. For a while at least."
"Yes, but clearly bounty hunters have been through these parts. They're also wanted. And badly at that."
"You suggesting something?" Carlos wondered with a sideways glance up. To which Ruggero held his hands up.
"If you're insinuating I insinuated we go after their bounties, you're cracked in the head. The money the government is willing to pay for them? Patetico!" (Pathetic!) -
"Then what are you suggesting?"
"That we be cautious." Ruggero motioned his hand in a lazy sideways wave. "These men are wanted, and wanted by plenty of people. Not even mentioning this tycoon, Cornwall."
"Ruggero," Carlos laughed and placed the telegram cards down on his bed. "If the police, or if anyone in the so called 'government' could prove the things some of our friends in Saint Denis have done; things you and I know they've done, their bounties would be double, triple this!"
"I know I-"
"Don't try to argue morality here."
"I'm not!" Ruggero retorted. "They are dangerous. I don't dislike them. They sound effective based on all I've read so far. I just don't...uh, colpa per associazione." (Guilt by association.) - Ruggero offered. Carlos shrugged with a thoughtful hum. Appreciating the sentiment, but...feeling differently about it.
"You're the careful one, brother. I appreciate that. Always have...even if you're stupid in other ways."
"Baciami il culo." (Kiss my ass.) - Ruggero snorted, but a smirk found its way onto his face quickly after. Much to Carlos own humor.
"No, but I understand. We don't know how agreeable they may be, and we don't want their trouble to get involved in our own. It is a fair point. However, I like them for this. This Arthur Morgan," Carlos tapped a finger lazily to the folded newspaper beside him. "He's stated to be the lead Enforcer or gun, whatever they want to call him, for this gang. As well," Carlos drawled out. "Mendoza mentions money robbed off a ferry."
"Quite a bit of it too." Ruggero nodded.
"Yeah, somewhere over a hundred thousand, maybe hundred and fifty. Tell me why they're here, when they have that kind of scratch?"
"I dunno? Laying low? What does it matter?"
"It matters because that kind of money can get you places. Wanted by Pinkertons and the local goddamn government be damned! You know what I think?"
"No." Ruggero stated matter-of-factly. Much to Carlos' unamused and feigned smile.
"Haha. Very funny. No," He continued. "They don't have that money. Lost, thrown away, whatever or however, it don't matter. But if they don't have it then they will be in search of money. And we," Carlos pat his left fingers into his chest. "We have money."
"I see your point. Okay." Ruggero gave a shrug and low sigh. "Whatever your call is I follow, fratello. You know that." (Brother.) - To that Carlos smirked and reached over. Patting his hulking friend's knee.
"Trust me. I have a good feeling about this."
"As long as we don't get bogged down in cowboy politics I'm in."
"We live in America, Ruggero." Carlos snorted. "It's all cowboy politics!"
"Hah..." Ruggero laughed. "You have a point."
Arthur's eyes fluttered open and he loosed a low rumbling groan from his chest up his throat.
"Shit…" He intoned aloud, bringing his arm up to block the streaming daylight as it pelted him from around his wagon's canopy in camp. He let his arm fall for a few moments and just stared at the top hanging overhead. Thinking about...well not much he supposed. Just waiting for the last remnants of sleep to wear away.
Before he finally heaved and pushed his legs around over the side of the cot onto the grassy patch beneath his boots. "Ah, son of a bitch!" He seethed as he yawned. His jaw was still raw and throbbing from that goddamn...stupid fight yesterday. In hindsight it was foolish, reckless even, but...well it had been a little fun. Though, after he was coated in mud and dirty rainwater Arthur had made his way back to camp. Well, after a while. He had wandered a bit on the return walk he had been forced into. Came across a few O'Driscoll boys along the way. Fools had actually been rather close to camp. Two came out of the tree line from the wooded patch due north of Horseshoe Overlook. They was on horseback, but Arthur had gotten his revolver out.
He had caught them both in the head. While two of their friends jumped from down the hill at his left. One had nixed him with a bullet. Nothing he hadn't dealt with before. A bit of a graze and burn along his left shoulder, but he had shot them fools too. Looted them for all they was worth and took the horses back to camp. Two Tennessee Walkers, and the poor creatures didn't look much well fed. But, they was added to their collection of horses for wagon trains or whatever else have ya' in camp. And, Arthur managed to make seven bucks off them O'Driscolls.
"Goddamn Colm O'Driscoll." Arthur chuckled lightly to himself. Leaning down and striking a match along his cot. Picking a cigarette off his stand, he lit it and took a few nice morning drags of tobacco. He glanced left to right across camp. First thing catching his eyes being Dutch's tent of course. Good ole' Dutch was inside it, sat on his own bed reading a book. Probably Evelyn Miller again. His favorite.
Arthur scanned to his left, but he didn't see Molly anywhere. She was probably on the other side of the tent though just out of sight. Doing her makeup or whatever it was that attracted her to that little pocket mirror of hers habitually. "Poor girl." Arthur shook his head and pulled from the cigarette again. Lightly coughing from the inhalation. "It's nothing to do with your makeup." He absently noted.
Dutch and her were...well fine, he supposed. But, Arthur could already see the signs. As had happened before and again, Dutch's eyes were wandering a bit too long these days. Ole' Dutch was still showing Miss O'Shea the affection he was to show them as he felt needed it when he was willing to give it. Still, Arthur didn't know when or where, but the time for that was coming to an end. Weren't Molly's fault. It was...just Dutch. Had been ever since Annabelle...anyways, Arthur shoved the thought aside.
Glancing just beyond Dutch's tent, Arthur could see Uncle and Reverend Swanson sat at the main campfire. Neither seemed to be talking. The poor Reverend...he was in a bad sort of late. Not anymore so than usual maybe, but still pretty bad. Sad, angry, taking it out on himself. In some ways Arthur could relate, but...at least he weren't knee deep with the morphine. Anyways...Arthur could smell something being cooked. A sure sign that Pearson was up and about. John was sat over on that stump just off to the left of Arthur. Reading something or other. Whilst Abigail and Jack were probably at their tent.
"Goddamn fool." Arthur intoned to himself. Having a woman and child as Abigail and Jack and running off as he had. To come back and be so...easily accepted back by them when he should've been there to defend them! But, Arthur sighed and let the thought pass him by. No point in dwelling on John and his foolishness. Who was Arthur to judge on what made a man a father? Besides, maybe he was thinking of two other folk when he saw Abigail and Jack. Two that weren't...well it was the past, and it should stay there. Deep in the back of his mind.
He rose to a stand and loosed a sigh. Stretching himself back and forth, thrusting arms out and across himself before Arthur pulled the bud from his lips and tossed it into damp leafs beyond his wagon. Glancing down Arthur chuckled lightly. Seeing as he was only dressed in a white union shirt and ripped jeans. Seeing as his coat and clothes from the day prior had been utterly caked by mud he had seen fit to tear 'em off and set 'em aside for the girls to clean. Once they had the time of course. He weren't Susan, so Arthur was more than happy to take his clothes into town and get them washed that way, but...anyways his thoughts were a bit jumbled.
"Let's see...what have I got here." Arthur intoned, turning and bending down to his clothes chest. Pulling it open he rifled through some shirts and jackets that somehow managed to fit into the case. He didn't want to head out into camp, let alone beyond in naught but his nighttime comforts. A few low grumbles of air passed from his throat until he pulled out a coat, vest, new shirt, and hat.
"Ah, this'll do, I guess." He announced to no one. Quickly throwing the clothes onto his cot and turning to unfurl the covering flap of his wagon to give himself a bit of privacy as he changed.
Which he did quickly enough. You know...he couldn't quite remember how these clothes got their name? He checked himself in his small shaving mirror as best he could. Shrugging his own satisfaction as he appraised hisself.' He had on a French Dress Shirt, beneath a Legion Vest. Arthur had fished through his assorted boots and put on his Plated Relentless Boots, and Vaquero Riding Spurs. Topped off with his tan and brown Montana Coat, Grizzlies Gun Belt and hat. All that was pretty standard clothing, but some around the camp had come to call this set of clothing the 'Grizzlies Outlaw Outfit.'
Arthur didn't quite remember how it came about that some of the folk in camp began naming his outfits...well them clothes as he wore together often. But, it definitely had something to do with a case of whiskey, Bill, Karen, Sean and the Callandar boys. The memory; as best as he could remember, brought a thin smile beneath his scratchy hair covered face.
"Drink one for me Davey." Arthur intoned to the quiet of his lonesome. Sniffling absently before he redid the cloth atop his wagon, spat onto the ground for no particular reason and placed his Grizzlies Outlaw Hat...as it were, atop his head. But, just before Arthur left from beneath the canopy of his wagon, he saw his hat...his daddy's hat on the ground. A low rumbling sigh of some sort loosed from hisself.' He bent down, pat it free of dirt, stared at it for...why? He didn't know. Before he placed it along a jutting nail along the side of the wagon near his father's picture. His lips creasing ever so slightly before he finally freed himself of his little corner of the camp.
"Hey, Arthur." He heard Tilly greet him. Arthur glanced right, seeing her walk by in her usual yellow outfit.
"There she is." Arthur smiled and passed her a lazy wave. Reminding himself to ask her about all that business back in Valentine the day before, later. Seems Uncle and the girls had in fact gotten back with no trouble after he had his little run in...with Jimmy Brooks. "Yeah…" Arthur intoned to himself. Clasping his hands onto his buckle as he moved towards Pearson's wagon. Taking note of Bill, still passed out, drunk of course, on top of his bedroll. Arthur hummed as he glanced over shoulder. Still not seeing sight of either Lenny or Micah. It was worrisome, but Arthur trusted Lenny. Micah? Hell, if he ended up shot, drowned, hung, blown up or sucked into hell itself that'd be just fine far as Arthur was concerned.
"Mr. Morgan!" Pearson greeted from his table. Bringing his butcher's knife down through some slab of meat or another.
"Everything alright Pearson?" Arthur greeted with a tip of his hat.
"Well...can't complain."
"Ah but you want to." Arthur chuckled. "Go on, what's on your mind?"
"Well it's not that...okay…" Pearson put his knife down and sighed. "With Charles, Javier, and Lenny out, and John still taking things easy I don't have anyone really bringing in much food."
"Always with the food."
"Well, we can either talk about it or starve, Mr. Morgan."
"Yeah, I hear ya.'" Arthur nodded. Another low sigh escaping from him as he knelt by the pot of stew. Smelling it and allowing the decent enough brew of what he'd guess to be venison and potatoes along with whatever else Pearson could wrangle together, to enter his nostrils. "Hmm, well I'll see what I can do. How much you got?"
"Well I have some deer meat leftover, gotta make it sooner before it goes rotten."
"Okay."
"A few rabbits that Bill managed to find me last night."
"Really?"
"Don't ask." Pearson grumbled, and Arthur didn't. Only chuckling and shaking his head as he stirred the ladle in the stew. Bringing the spoon of it up to his lips.
"Hmm." Arthur idly hummed appreciatively.
"Meat aside, cans of apricots, baked beans, uh some cracker boxes, apples...oh this one is bad…" Pearson went on as he rummaged through a crate along his wagon. "Well, point being is I'd hate to ask but-"
"Yeah, yeah alright Pearson." Arthur picked himself up. Putting the ladle back down into the bowl. "I'll try and find some more food. Hunting still ain't exactly my wheelhouse, but if nothing else I'll buy some provisions in town."
"Thank you, Mr. Morgan." Pearson pat his red-banded top hat and returned to chopping up his deer. Arthur for his part turned and rounded the food wagon. Coming to a stop as he saw that O'Driscoll still tied up to his tree. Head bowed, body slouched and legs a-shaking.
"Hey there, O'Driscoll." Arthur announced. The tied up bastard lifting his head with a groggy darkness to his eyes.
"I told you, mister, I ain't-"
"Yeah I heard that line." Arthur cut him off. "It's old and getting older, boy. Anyways, just wanted to tell you I ran into a few of your friends just the other day. Rather close to the camp too. Don't you worry though," Arthur neared with a menace and seethe to his voice. "I shot 'em. Every last one of them. But, it got me thinking...have you been making any sort of signal, huh?"
"Wha...what you mean?!"
"Maybe you've been training birds to fly in circles above camp? Calling out for food, but calling for your O'Driscoll friends?"
"N...no-no, sir! I don't know nothing about no O'Driscolls!"
"For someone who is an O'Driscoll, you sure seem to not know a lot about them...O'Driscoll."
"I..I've already said-"
"Yeah I know, boy." Arthur chuckled with a prolonged wheeze. "Anyways…" He continued on. "You sit tight there, O'Driscoll. Don't let me catch you trying to signal anymore of your friends, you got me?!"
"I didn't...I don't know...I-"
"Ah, shut up. You just remember to sleep with one eye open, boy!" Arthur kept on laying on the threats and intimidation. For a squirrely lil' feller he sure were taking his time to crack...he had to hand it to him. Unspoken of course.
"Don't do this, please!" The lil' bastard whined.
"Cause' I don't need much of a reason!" Arthur snarled with a plastered feral grin along his features. The feller wincing at the sight, delirious and hungry as he was.
"Please...stop!"
"I'm just biding my time…"
"Get away from me!" With that Arthur loosed a laugh from his gut. Roaring on and shaking his head as he waved dismissively at the O'Driscoll. Turning back and marching his way back towards the horses.
"Having your fun then, son?" Arthur heard Dutch call to him from his tent. He turned and saw the proud and somewhat regal visage of ole' Dutch stood at the entrance of his tent facing towards the horses. A cigar in hand, hat off his slicked back head of hair and a mischievous glint in them eyes. Seen even from a distance.
"Oh you know me, Dutch." Arthur began with a chuckle coming nearer one of his...he supposed fathers. "Just trying to scare the little weasel into finally caving. He's gotta know something. But, he ain't scared enough yet to spill it."
"Oh, but he will son, he will." Dutch chuckled a bit darkly along with Arthur. "He's been with us a few weeks now, he's eaten what scraps some of the girls are willing to try and sneak his way."
"Sneak huh? So, how you know about it?"
"Oh, you know me better than that, Arthur!" Dutch scoffed. "'Course some of the girls are gonna help that poor bastard out every now and again. I don't take issue with that. They're just being kind. You know, human. Unlike any O'Driscoll we've known."
"True, but won't that just prolong his cracking?"
"I don't think so. Besides," Dutch murmured and took a puff of his cigar. "Giving him a little taste of normality or a bit of water here, food there it'll only make the heart and stomach grow fonder, my boy."
"I guess so." Arthur nodded absently. Figuring Dutch knew what he was talking about. "So," He began again catching a glance from Dutch. "Charles and Javier have both made their way over towards Blackwater huh?"
"Far as I know, yes." Dutch nodded. "If Sean is savable then...well we have to try, Arthur."
"I know, I know. Just…" Arthur shrugged. "Feels reckless getting so close to Blackwater again."
"It has been a few weeks, son."
"Don't feel like a few weeks is enough this time, Dutch."
"Mmm, well you may be right." Dutch conceded with a long exhale of breath. Thoughts clearly brewing in his mind as he idled beside Arthur. "All that business...bad business."
"I know." Arthur nodded.
"All that money too."
"Everyone's money."
"Hmm." Dutch huffed. "We will make it, Arthur. I know it." Dutch finally added. Tossing a sizable portion of his cigar before patting Arthur's right shoulder. One of his smiles on his face. One Arthur had seen many a-time before. Dutch was a force to be reckoned with. Though...Arthur had been around long enough to know when Dutch was speaking to his strengths. A little bit of horseshit mixed with genuine optimism.
"I hope so, Dutch." Arthur nodded with a thankful thin smile. Dutch patting him one last time before turning back into his tent. Molly saying something or other to distract the man. Leaving Arthur to sigh, before he moved off closer to the horses. He passed the ladies working at the wagon a tip of his hat and a smile. They all waved or said varying forms of 'hellos' and 'greetings.' Though, as Arthur got closer to the horse kindly...donated to them by Mrs. Adler and her passed husband, Arthur noticed a hulking black Shire tethered beside 'em.
"Hey, Arthur!" He came to a stop and glanced right. Somehow managing to miss Hosea sat on a lone boulder along the outer edges of the main camp line. He was idly cleaning a rifle, dressed up in his familiar green coat with them yellow furs along the inner lining, and he looked ready to take off. Arthur smiled as he saw some sort of excitement in good ole' Hosea's eyes. It was good to see. Especially with his coughing, and mood of late. Since the ferry job at least. "You wanna go hunting?" He wondered excitedly as Arthur came nearer.
"What are you hunting? An elephant?" Arthur chuckled gripping and lifting the old man's rifle into the air.
"I wish." Hosea wheezed a laugh. "No, I saw a huge bear. One of the biggest I ever saw. I reckon nearly a thousand pounds."
"My god." Arthur intoned handing the rifle back. Hosea gripping it eagerly. "What, you need me to come with you?"
"Of course. Let's go."
"Well, where are we heading exactly?"
"Up near the Dakota River. Might take a day or two."
"Hmm," Arthur shrugged taking an idle glance back over shoulder as he held Hosea's rifle by the barrel. "I could do with a break from this place. Plus, it'd be nice to get out before I have to deal with Josiah and all that business with Sean."
"Oh," Hosea paused from rummaging through his pack sat by the boulder to his left. "You don't think you should handle that now?"
"Nah, they can wait. Besides, I want to see if this thousand pound monster of yours exists!" Arthur cackled Hosea joining in with a slight nod.
"Well, I could use a break from here too. Been a rough couple of weeks." Hosea pushed himself to a stand. "You need anything?"
"I don't think so, I got all I need."
"Let's go then." Hosea bid. Leading Arthur towards their hitched horses, trading his saddle bags for the rifle in Arthur's hands. "So," He began again. "You still ain't replaced Boadicea?"
"Nah. I miss her, she was quite a horse." Arthur gave genuinely. Fondly recalling Boadicea...just another thing Blackwater took from them all. "This one's okay, but…" Arthur pointed to 'his' horse. "Ain't no Boadicea." Arthur finished and loaded the saddlebags onto Hosea's horse, Silver Dollar. A fine beast of a horse! Hosea reckoned he was a Turkoman breed, but Arthur weren't too sure. As he heard the breed had gone extinct, but hell some may have survived.
"Hmm," Hosea hummed as Arthur set the saddlebags to Hosea's saddle itself. "I been meaning to offload this big Shire horse for a while now. Unruly bastard."
"Oh, he yours?" Arthur replied as he tested the straps. "I was wondering who this big fella here was."
"Yeah, he's mine. Well kind of." Hosea shrugged.
"Where'd you get him?" Arthur wondered turning and patting the huge boy's hide.
"Some, big loud-mouthed bastard tried to rob me when I was out riding so I...well you know how it is."
"I see." Arthur nodded making his way around to his own horse. Hosea pausing and bringing a thoughtful fist to his chin.
"Let's take him to Valentine. It's on the way, sort of. There's a decent dealer there. We'll unload him, you can buy yourself a new horse." Hosea went through the motions. So quickly Arthur found himself already undoing the saddle before Hosea even need say… "Put your saddle on him, let's get going."
"Okay, but I do kinda like this horse."
"There's nothing wrong with two horses. And the stables always have the best ones." Hosea offered and...well Arthur couldn't see nothing wrong with that logic.
"Hmm, guess not." He shrugged to himself and unloaded his saddle. Quickly moving around and throwing it atop the big Shire fella. He gave a whir of air from his nose. Clearly still a bit upset by his lack of normal rider. "Take it easy feller." Arthur chuckled and pat his hide again.
"This is gonna be fun, Arthur." Hosea kept on going. Maybe he was even a bit fidgety? It gave Arthur reason to smirk beneath his facial hair. Seeing Hosea in such a mood well it was like the old days. Though even that thought was odd. 'Old days.' A lot had changed since Blackwater.
"He won't throw me?" Arthur wondered even as he tightened the saddle.
"No, he's an angel...if I'm near him."
"You know just how to calm my concerns, Hosea." The older man chuckled to that just as Arthur fully secured the saddle.
"Okay," Hosea began. "See if you can get your leg over that brute."
"Easy big feller." Arthur calmed him as he managed to mount him. Hoisting his leg up onto the saddle and yanking himself up by the horn and managing to sit down. A bit less ceremonious than he was used to, but he got a hold of the aforesaid, big feller.
"Alright, let's head into town. No bar fights, please. I heard about that."
"I'll do my best." Arthur grumbled. Even if he was internally quite jovial. Had been too long since he and Hosea had just...done something together. Of all the people in camp, and even between Dutch and Hosea, Arthur recalled again his past thoughts. How Hosea was like his father. Dutch too, but in different ways. And, he was...different. But, Hosea? A huckster, a thief and a liar. But, hell of everyone in camp, he among maybe one other persons was good. At heart at least. Something Arthur admired, even without saying it.
Hosea led Arthur out of camp. Yelling that they may be gone for a few days. As the two of them rode off towards Valentine. Discussing this that. Mac, Davey, Lenny and poor Jenny. Weren't too long before they reached Valentine, nor the stables.
Both Carlos and Ruggero sat where they had been for quite some time. Well Carlos was sitting. His head was covered by the newspaper from today. Ruggero was pacing back and forth in front of the hotel along its deck. Not for the first time Carlos heard Ruggero loose a long reverberating sigh. Carlos, however, chose to ignore it. Instead sighing lowly and reading something or other about some fake healer on the run in this part of the country. The paper mentioning Valentine specifically which must've been big news around these parts. What with the consistent permeation of animal shit, the clanging of spurs and the regular hooting and hollering made in not one, but both saloons. Depending on your tastes.
"Mi sento ridicolo." (I feel ridiculous.) - Ruggero groaned in Italian.
"Tieni solo gli occhi aperti." (Just keep your eyes opened.) - Carlos offered. Knowing he probably sounded a bit...dull toned.
"I am!" Ruggero groaned. "I've been keeping them opened all goddamn morning!"
"Someone didn't sleep well." Carlos scoffed with a chuckle.
"I…!" Ruggero began, but clearly had to cool himself, grumbling as he did. "The bed was very uncomfortable."
"I found it no worse than that tenement I stayed in back in St. Louis. In fact," Carlos lowered the paper. "I think this bed may beat that one."
"You may enjoy living life in squalor, big or small city, but I need a bed. At least give me that."
"You're getting picky in your old age."
"Qualunque cosa. Baciami il culo." (Whatever. Kiss my ass.) - Ruggero waved Carlos off. The latter laughing as he did so. Both falling into silence once more as they did what they had been doing all morning. Waiting. Waiting to see if they saw sign or sight of their cowboy friend, or any of his friends as were seen the day before. Any of the women, but preferably one of the men. Neither Carlos nor Ruggero wanted to involve anyone they didn't know could outright handle the matter in question on their own. But, if those women were running with a crew such as this Van der Linde Gang, then perhaps they were of the fighting sort themselves? Neither knew, neither questioned. Time would tell.
"Hey!" Ruggero snapped Carlos from idle thoughts.
"What?" As he asked, Carlos watched Ruggero point lazily off to their collective left. He followed and found himself looking over at the stables. Two men on horseback were idling in front of it. One they both recognized. The other...not so much. They spoke to one another. Neither Carlos nor Ruggero could hear clearly, but the cowboy, Arthur, made his way into the stables on a big horse. The older man turned and made for the General Store.
"That's him, no?"
"Sure looks like our wayward cowboy." Carlos intoned, folding the paper and standing as he did. "Let's head on over and introduce ourselves. Calmly, and amenably, Ruggero."
"I'm always calm and amenable."
"Is that what you call it?" Carlos chuckled.
"Tell you what," Ruggero began with a scoff to his voice. "I'll head over there. Fall to my knees and hand them my shotgun! That way when either one or both decide to rob us, or kill us, or both, I was as amenable as one could be with unknown country outlaws and bandits."
"An interesting tactic." Carlos conceded sarcastically. "I'd like to see the looks on their faces as you made a fool of yourself on hand in knee here in the mud."
"You would. You would." Ruggero smacked his teeth. Carlos chuckling again as the two of them approached. Slowly…
"Alright, go sell that big brute...and buy yourself a horse."
"Okay." Arthur agreed easily enough. Pulling the large Shire into the stables as he did.
"I'm going off to the General Store. Get a few things to lure that bear out with. Meet you back here in a bit." Hosea trailed off as Arthur nodded, more to himself really. Jumping off the Shire as they reached the darker interior of the stable house.
"Hey, how can I help you?"
"I'm in the market for a new horse." Arthur greeted the stable hand...'least he thought he was the stable hand? Anyways looked about as you'd expect him to look. "Uh, something strong and fast." Arthur finished.
"Well, you're in the right place. I've got some beauties in at the moment." The hand whistled, probably calling to stable boy as he approached Arthur. "Yeah...and what about this one here?" He pat the Shire's muzzle, giving him a smile as he did. "You looking to sell?"
"I ain't sure yet."
"You got papers?" The hand wondered just as a stable boy came over and gripped the Shire's reins.
"No, no papers."
"Well, of course, that's gonna affect what I can pay, but your luck's in. I got a feller who's been looking for a decent workhorse like this for a while. He'll pay a good price. Otherwise, I can always stable him here for you. Here," The hand pointed to the interior of the stable. "Take a look." Arthur nodded moving towards the pens as the two hands went to work on feeding and brushing the Shire behind him.
"Alright...let's see." Arthur trailed off as he gazed inside of the five main pens. One after the other.
The first was a Morgan by the look of things. Small, not exactly what Arthur had come here looking for. "Hmm, not sure about you girl." Arthur intoned and kept on moving. "Look at you." He offered to an American Standardbred. Again, not bad, in fact it looked healthy, and fit, but...Arthur wasn't sure he felt any kind of connection there. 'Course, every horse needed to be bonded with, but still...sometimes he found you could look at one and just know.
Anyways, he saw a Dutch Warmblood. Mighty fine breed and mighty fine horse! But...bit pricey, and Arthur wasn't looking to rob a stable over some horse right now. "Nah, best leave you in peace." Arthur chuckled as he pat the Warmblood's muzzle.
Beside it was a Thoroughbred. He paused and hummed. Always good horses they was. Racing was more their thing, but they could handle a scrape fine if you trained them well. Arthur didn't want a horse that'd shy from a fight. Man or beast. He'd been in more than a few in his life, and knowing himself he knew he'd be in many more yet to come.
"Whoa!" Arthur's attention caught right. One of the stable boys called as he reeled from the final stall.
"Got a wild one here?" Arthur wondered as the horse snorted and stamped its legs a bit on the ground.
"Ah yes, my most recent acquisition." The main handler came sauntering over. "Beautiful Ardennes he is. Fine iron gray roan, but a bit on the temperamental side."
"Hmm, he does seem fiery." Arthur laughed as the Ardennes whinnied at the stable boy and handler.
"Yeah...have been trying to break him in, but he just don't like being handled, not by nobody. He finds it in him to let us feed and walk him...sometimes."
"So, you trying to sell him off?"
"Not really." The handler laughed. "He's too rowdy for working or tilling, and nobody's been able to ride him, so...well…"
"Yeah I understand." Arthur nodded, but approached the horse. "Come here, boy! You ain't all as mean as you want them to think ain't ya!'" Arthur risked coming near. Pushing his arm over the stable and onto the Ardennes muzzle. It reeled at first. Stamped and neighed. Arthur didn't recoil though. Kept his eyes trained on this big feller's big dark eyes. Watching them shift back and forth.
"Aw, you're just scared boy. See, you take it out on all these fools, but you're just a big ole' softy huh?" Arthur chuckled. Sliding the palm of his hand down the muzzle as the horse whimpered, and stamped, but a little less.
"Huh, well I'll be damned." The handle shook his head. "You're the first person I've seen this bastard tolerate."
"He's just nervous. Where'd he come from?"
"Hmm, he was brought in and sold a few days ago. No papers. Didn't want to ask the seller. Seemed a bit on the meaner side, so, I'm sure we can all figure."
"I understand." Arthur nodded. Realizing he had just brought in that Shire brute under similar circumstances. "Well, you are a good boy, ain't you?" Arthur smirked. The Ardennes slowly but surely calming. Eyes fixing on the ground and back to Arthur.
"I think we may have a winner here, huh?"
"Hmm, maybe...maybe." Arthur pat the boy and turned back to the handler. "How much?"
"Well…" The handler hummed with a huff. Sliding a hand along his jaw in thought. "I didn't know what else to do with this feller 'till now, so...hmm." He turned to the Shire Arthur had brought in. "Tell you what, let's make a deal."
"I'm listening."
"You sell me this Shire, but I pay about half of what I would've. I keep the difference, you take this horse off my hands, and we're square." Arthur hummed, but truthfully he didn't see nothing wrong with the offer. Sure, less money but…
He turned back to the Ardennes whipping his head about, and Arthur chuckled mostly to himself. "Ah hell, sure! Sounds like a fair deal to me."
"Alright then, let's uh try and get him saddled up."
"Best I get him." Arthur waved the handler off. "Seeing as he's temperamental."
"Sure thing. Let me grab your pay." The handler shuffled off to a nearby set of drawers as Arthur unsaddled the shire. Patting the boy one last time as he did.
"You do good work now, you hear?" The Shire gave a low sputter. Almost as if he understood, but Arthur didn't think nothing of it. At least he found the idea of the horse understanding him a bit funny anyways… One of the stable boys opened the pen. Causing the Ardennes to fidget. Clopping his hooves in the hay.
"Whoa now, take it easy big feller. It's all fine. You're fine, boy." Arthur laughed. Not allowing the horse to sense or see any fear or wariness from hisself.' The Ardennes manged to not toss or throttle about itself, and Arthur gently laid his saddle atop him. He shook his hulking body, but Arthur was quick to coo him through the entire tying process. Patting his neck, and though he whined, sputtered, and whinnied – in the end Arthur got his saddle tied.
"You're doing good boy, real good!" Arthur laughed as the handler made his way back over.
"You certainly have a way with horses, Mister. Even the unruly sorts."
"Ah, well I've had my share of 'em." Arthur shrugged.
"Well, we have ourselves a deal, and you, you have yourself a fine new horse." The handler handed the money for the Shire over.
"I think so." Arthur agreed.
"Well, I don't sell anything other than good animals. You have my word on that. Even if this feller here is unruly, mean and temperamental I got a good feeling for the both of ya.'" The handler went on as Arthur checked the saddle once more. "Ah, and here are your papers."
"Right." Arthur met the handler halfway and took the official documents.
"And, on me...a new grooming brush. Along with some treats."
"Appreciate it." Arthur nodded his thanks as the handler gave him his items and passed him for the horse. Though not getting too near now.
"Alright you! You treat this feller well. I know he's going to look after you just fine." Both men shared a subdued cordial chuckle among themselves as Arthur grabbed the reins and began slowly pulling the Ardennes free of the stable.
"Take it easy partner!"
"Thanks, sir." Arthur gave a passing wave behind himself as he stepped back out into the daylight and streets of Valentine. He and the horse made their way out and Arthur paused, patting the Ardennes and clicking his tongue in thought.
"What shall we name you then, huh?"
"Looks like a nice animal you got there!" Hosea greeted, trotting back over from the store atop Silver Dollar. "You happy?"
"Yeah...I think so. Just need a name for him. Handler said he's a mean and temperamental sort."
"Ah, the perfect match then!" Hosea laughed.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Two angry fools making bigger fools of ourselves. But, what shall we call ya' boy?" Arthur wondered in an intone as he rubbed the Ardennes gray coated neck. His big dark eyes softening as Arthur continued to do so.
"Well," Hosea hummed. "Seeing as Boadicea was named after the great Celtic Queen resisting the Romans...I'd say we need ourselves another rebellious leader, eh?"
"Hmm...I think you're right!" Arthur agreed. "Got any ideas?"
"Well there's Spartacus?"
"Decent, but ain't so sure it fits." Arthur shrugged.
"Alright then let me think...hmm." Hosea continued digging through what Arthur was sure to be a treasure trove up in that head of his.
"Ah yes! How about...Arminius?! Leader of some German tribes and peoples, fought the Romans in a forest and destroyed two whole Legions! Or...was it three?" Hosea mumbled the last bit to himself, but Arthur hummed approvingly.
"Arminius...I like it. How about you boy, you like it? Arminius?" Arthur cooed the gray beast. The horse swinging his massive head about. "I'll take that as a firm yes, Arminius."
"A fine name for a horse, gentlemen!" Arthur came to a sudden stop. Hosea tilted his head left where he sat atop Silver Dollar. Arthur followed and moved himself around Arminius' head to see the side of the stable facing south. "Forgive my interruption, but surely you remember me, right cowboy?" Arthur watched as them fellers from yesterday, the Italians as Javier had said, came from around the stable's corner.
"What the hell you want?" Arthur fell into his usual defensive posture. Standing himself firm and imposing. His right hand holding Arminius' reins, agitating the horse by his change of demeanor, whilst his left itched for his revolver...wrong side though...shit!
"A question first?" The one his own height began, raising both gloved hands submissively. His colossus of a friend stood unspoken and watchful. Staring down both Hosea and Arthur.
"Okay?" Arthur humored the man.
"You are Arthur Morgan, right?" He stated it lowly, seemingly trying not to allow anyone who could listen, to listen.
"Said as much yesterday."
"Right, you did." The man...damn what was his name? Arthur couldn't quite remember… "But, I mean more that, you're the Arthur Morgan? As I've read it, you're listed as the top Enforcer for Dutch Van der Linde, and his band of outlaws."
"Does every Arthur Morgan necessarily have to be the same, sir?" Hosea sputtered with a laugh, trying to run a yarn for Arthur even as he continued staring the men down with daggers to his eyes.
"No, sir. Surely not." He laughed in return, but it quickly faded as he motioned his arms out in an accentuated shrug. "But...see I was there after that little tussle in the saloon. And," He lowered his arms, and Arthur stood himself up more rigidly in defense. "I heard you speaking with your friends. And, well one of them was named Charles, another Javier, another was oh...what was it Ruggero?"
"Josiah."
"That's it, Josiah!" As they went on Arthur felt his pulse pick up a bit. Feeling himself being backed into a corner here. As well as internally cursing himself and everyone else for being so goddamn sloppy!
"Not to mention the gentleman with the Josiah character. I heard Josiah call him, Dutch. If I'm not mistaken?"
"Not mistaken at all, Carlos." The big assured his friend, and Arthur at least now remembered both their goddamn names...whoever they were.
"Okay?" Arthur shrugged with a dismissive downward twist of his lips. "What that got to do with me?"
"Arthur," Hosea called, but Arthur didn't bother turning. "No point in trying to pretend otherwise they know who we are."
"Not you necessarily, sir." Carlos smiled. Seemingly trying to be friendly. "But, from what descriptions I got of the gang I'd wanna say...Hosea Matthews?"
"What descriptions are those?"
"Older gentleman. Second to Dutch Van der Linde, though I mean no disrespect if not the case. Uh…" Carlos seemed to rack his brain. "Second oldest member of the gang right alongside Mr. Van der Linde, and then followed after by Arthur Morgan. But, again if I'm wrong I'm-"
"Most bounty hunters don't try talking this long, feller." Hosea shot back cutting Carlos off. "Must mean you either aren't one, or you're green. If you're green then I'd tell you to head home and not lose your life over bounties."
"No! Bounty hunters?!" Carlos cackled lightheartedly. "You misunderstand me. Just cause I know who you folk are doesn't mean I want anything to do with government money or men! I must appear rather disagreeable. I apologize." Carlos bowed his head.
"Then what is it that you do want, Mister…?"
"Magliano. Carlos Magliano, and this is Ruggero. We met Mr. Morgan here yesterday when one of your ladies was having issue with another feller."
"We did." Arthur nodded.
"I hadn't known who you were then, but let me just say if the tales of your exploits are true, I am honored. But, as for business...I'm in the market for business to be had."
"Business?" Hosea repeated.
"Yes, business. But, uh...maybe not the sort of business you want to discuss out in the open?"
"Look, we ain't here to make deals with some well-dressed fools come from whatever godforsaken city they-"
"The pay would be really good." Carlos countered Arthur's tirade.
"How good?" Hosea wondered, still keeping himself calm and even toned.
"Very good. I don't know what you lot are dealing with money wise of late, but I can assure you I pay good money for good work."
"We're not contract killers." Hosea noted, but dipped his head. "We aim not to be without good cause at least."
"No, nothing like that. But, again, perhaps we shouldn't discuss this here? If you're interested of course! If not, we will take our business elsewhere, and I can assure you I have no quarrel with y'all." Carlos beamed a seemingly quite amenable smile. Pressing his hands to his chest to accentuate himself.
Even though Arthur was still wary...the promise of money; 'good' whatever that meant, did leave him momentarily unsure what to do or say next.
"Hosea?" He called back to him. Confirming these two suspicions as he did. But, more importantly wanting Hosea's opinion on the matter. His judgment in times like this was the far better option than whatever he'd come to. Arthur thought at least.
"Hmm…" Hosea hummed. A long moment of heavy silence passing between the four. But, for the sound of the townspeople nearby and far off and their horses sounding in their ears. "Alright." Hosea nodded, unseen by Arthur.
"We'll hear you out, but," Hosea raised a hand of caution. "No funny business. My companion here he's real...well, let's say disagreeable. When he means to be." Hosea used one of Carlos own words to strike the point home. Though the man simply bowed his head with a never receding smile along his bearded features.
"I understand. But, to keep everyone from pushing their noses into our business let's say we move this conversation out of Valentine?"
"Now hold on-"
"Don't worry, cowboy!" Carlos cut Arthur off again. "Out, but not far. Still in eyesight of other people. But, I don't need people hearing my business, and besides this little introduction and what you and your friends did yesterday, I assume neither of you want yourselves known? Even among a mostly disinterested lot as these...finely assorted people." Carlos waved a dismissive hand towards Valentine.
"He's right, Arthur."
"Wouldn't the saloon be easy enough?"
"Probably one of the worst places to conduct business, my friend." Carlos rebuffed.
"We ain't friends."
"Apologies." Carlos raised both hands again.
"Alright!" Hosea announced. His tone still chipper. Arthur assumed he meant for them to fall into their usual roles as needed. He'd be the agreeable kind, while Arthur would be the disagreeable kind. But, not too disagreeable. Yet.
"There's a boulder right up over there. Right under that tree, fellers. Close but not too close." Hosea offered, and without waiting for them to agree or disagree he turned Silver Dollar and began trotting over towards it. Up past the stables into the small wooded line between the town proper and a house or two situated up them ways.
"Fine by me. Ruggero."
"You two walk in front of me, and no sudden movements. You got me?" Arthur seethed much to the glare of the big guy. Carlos, however, seemed to silently calm his friend with a glance.
"We're fine with that, frie...cowboy." He bowed his head to Arthur and headed after Hosea. His big friend's hand was clutching the string leading to his shotgun real tight by the looks of it too.
"Ah...goddamn." Arthur intoned as he pat Arminius and pulled him by his reins after the two Italian fellers. "Alright…"
…
All four made their way under the lone tree. Well as lone as the tree could be with some nearby. Hosea jumped off from atop Silver Dollar and hitched him to the tree stump. Arthur doing much the same with Arminius. The two seeming amenable with one another which was welcome. While both Carlos and Ruggero stood idling. Their backs facing Valentine, Carlos pulled a cigarette from a pack and began smoking it. His friend scanning front and back, pacing through the grass. This guy never seemed to take a break. At least as far as Arthur had seen.
"Care to sit, gentlemen?" Hosea offered as he reached the boulder and sat atop it. Scooting himself to face them.
"We'll stand you go ahead though."
"I'll stand." Arthur grumbled and placed his right hand atop his holstered revolver. Carlos nodded, a smile forming half along his face as he held the cigarette between his lips. Hosea, however, was the one to start this little meeting.
"Alright, I think in matters such as these it always proves best to have at least some kind of formal introduction. No need to be rude while among fellow thieves, neerdowells and other assorted criminals." Hosea offered kindly enough. "Hosea Matthews, as you boys intuited. This here is, as he said, Arthur Morgan. Never mind you his manner he is quite the fellow. As long as you don't get on his bad side."
"Trust me, I know the type." Carlos grinned and waved towards Ruggero. "I have to deal with this fool most days."
"Ah, I see." Hosea chuckled.
"Ah, but a pleasure to meet the both of you. And, you for the second time, Mr. Morgan."
"Sure." Arthur dismissed this Carlos feller.
"Oh, as for us," Carlos pointed between he and Ruggero. "I'm Calogero Magliano. But, I let most people call me Carlos. Long as-"
"You let them." Arthur finished. Recalling him having said the same the day before. Carlos smirking as he did.
"Exactly, Mr. Morgan." Carlos then turned and thrust two fingers pinching his cigarette at Ruggero. "My friend, confidant, advisor and long time fool here is Ruggero Buonoparte."
"Bonaparte?" Hosea cocked a curious brow. "Like-"
"The French Emperor, yes." Ruggero offered with a low grumble. Carlos laughing as he did.
"Napoleon came from Corsica. The Corsican people are Italians, whether they remember it or not. His was and is not the only family to have the name Buonoparte."
"Any relations you think?" Hosea chuckled, making idle chatter.
"Unlikely." Ruggero snorted as he kept his eyes darting about and watchful. "My family come from Lucania and Sicily."
"Where?" Arthur wondered.
"Ah, southern Italy, Mr. Morgan." Carlos interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Needless to say we're all properly acquainted...more or less?"
"More or less." Hosea agreed. "Now as for this proposition, as it were?"
"Yes." Carlos took a drag from his cigarette. Blowing the smoke off to his left as he paced ever so slightly left to right. "Now, me and Ruggero come from Saint Denis, and I'll try not to bore you folk with the preambles."
"Long as you ain't trying to take us for a ride."
"Surely not, Mr. Morgan, surely not." Carlos assured. "We are heading back down south in the next few days. Coming down from St. Louis. While we were there, we discovered that a...shall we say acquaintance of ours is moving materials down from St. Louis to Saint Denis."
"And these materials," Hosea cut through with an immediately understanding tone to his voice. "You'd prefer not reach Saint Denis."
"Precisely." Carlos smirked. "Now, in a day or two; we're not sure ourselves, but we know in the next few days." He assured. "It will be heading down through Arkansas along the Grizzlies. Coming north up around Strawberry. You know it?"
"More or less." Arthur offered gruffly for both he and Hosea. "What is 'it' exactly?"
"Right. Carlos took a puff of his cigarette. "The materials will be on a wagon which itself will be part of a small train. Three maybe four wagons."
"Plus guards on horseback." Ruggero added without turning to look at them. Watching out towards Valentine.
"Yes, plus guards." Carlos repeated. "What we need is for someone who is capable to find the wagon train, and 'disrupt' its journey."
"You want us to rob a train of coaches." Again Hosea cut through their talk, and once again Carlos smirked. Tilting his head.
"Yes, we'd like that."
"And, you believe a gang of outlaws wanted in no less than three states here on the lam in unincorporated country beside Valentine are your best choice for such a task?" Hosea wondered.
"Me and Ruggero need to stay as far away from this as possible. At least for now. See," Carlos came closer to Hosea. Arthur's reflex kicked in and he jumped. Jostling his hand atop his revolver grip. Carlos eyed Arthur for just a moment. Raised his hands and tipped his head.
"See…" He continued. "Our acquaintance well, we want him to have a bad day. A bad week, hell a bad goddamn month!" Carlos trembled ever so slightly. Something Arthur picked up on.
"But, we don't want him blaming the people as need be blamed until we've had time to set other moves in motion as we need them. But, we also understand that you...that none of you in your gang, want unnecessary attention brought on you. So, I figure if you rob the coaches, and you take what's inside – and I mean anything and everything not bolted down, then he'll have no choice but to assume countryside bandits stole his goods."
"If we make it appear as a robbery, and not a plan to steal your, err...materials?" Hosea noted. "What are these materials anyways?"
"Nothing you need be concerned with." Carlos dismissed and took another drag of his cigarette. Though Arthur caught his eye, scoffing aloud.
"Hell if we're robbing these coaches, and that's still an if, boy, then we should know what we're taking. No point in risking our necks over crap you should be taking yourselves if you want it so badly."
Carlos eyed Arthur for a moment. Before he cocked his head to the side. "Fair enough." Carlos chuckled softly.
"Union contracts."
"Union contracts?" Arthur echoed.
"Yep. Union contracts." Carlos smacked his teeth, shaking his head ever so slightly. Clearly his mind going somewhere else in thought. "There's an uh...labor dispute brewing in Saint Denis down the docks. See the Port of Saint Denis is the largest goddamn port in the South."
"Saint Denis is in the top five of all imports and exports. That's for the entire country, gentlemen." Ruggero added tilting to face Hosea and Arthur, speaking with a flat tone. "The Port of New York, Newark in Jersey, Boston Harbor, all of them and those growing out west. They're all big, but through it all Saint Denis brings around the third biggest set of tariffs and tax for the whole goddamn country. On a daily basis the port is laden with ships both coming and going. And, where there's ships there's-"
"Workers." Carlos finished for Ruggero. A knowing glint to his dark eyes.
"Nothing like unionized workers complaining to remind you how commerce functions." Hosea chuckled softly.
"You're not wrong, Mr. Matthews." Carlos joined his laugh. "Now, the Federation of Labor, the super Union, either of you heard of 'em?"
"In passing, or in papers whenever they form a strike." Hosea nodded. "Or, well...when Pinkertons are called in to break up those strikes."
"Pinkertons?" Arthur grumbled. A sour taste forming in his mouth at the mere mention.
"Nasty bunch. I believe you folk have had a run in with them?" Carlos pointed Arthur's way.
"Once or twice."
"They certainly have it out for you." Carlos kept on. "I hear they're being funded by Leviticus Cornwall to hunt your gang down."
"Well, you'd have heard right." Hosea intoned with a light cough. Sounding weary by the mere mention of that train robbery.
"Well...anyways!" Carlos waved himself back to his main point, so it seemed. "Back to the matter at hand. The wagon train coming down from St. Louis holds an assortment of delivery goods and items. There's some bribery money on it, somewhere above three hundred dollars. Whatever you do with that, or any goods you find: liquor, guns, food, jewelry, whatever have you, that's yours to do with as you please. But, I want those documents either brought to me, for a finder's fee, or at the very least destroyed. I don't want them to reach Saint Denis."
"And you don't want your 'acquaintance' to know you had anything to do with their going missing."
"Precisely, Mr. Matthews." Carlos nodded. "I'm willing to pay good money for the job. So long as you folk make sure they believe it was a robbery. If a fight breaks out, I'm not telling you what to do, but either way make it appear like a robbery by bandits. Take anything and everything." Arthur hummed as Carlos rattled on.
"That way these contracts look like unfortunate collateral caught up in the frenzy huh?" Arthur intuited and again Carlos beamed at his understanding.
"Something like that. It will give me, Ruggero and my associates time to work things over on our end."
"That being?" Hosea wondered.
"Do labor disputes really garner your interest, sir?" Ruggero turned and wondered.
"Well...not all the time. But," Hosea chuckled. "I have to say all this talk has me intrigued if nothing else! I've never fancied myself as a friend of laborers or union busters." Hosea cackled in only the way he did. Being his usual amenable self while fishing for details.
"It's alright, Ruggero." Carlos calmed the big feller. "The Federation of Labor, uh FOL, have been negotiating on behalf of the dock workers in Saint Denis. The delegates down there have recently become ensnared in business dealings with my...'acquaintance,' as we'll call him. The less you know about him, the better."
"I'm sure." Arthur scoffed as Carlos went on.
"There's only so many delegates and representatives you can beat, bludgeon or...kill before they stop fearing you and run to the other guy." Well...he said that rather bluntly. Arthur felt his brow furrow. He knew these boys were killers now, at least. "These negotiations have turned up a deal that would benefit those I wouldn't want to benefit from, well, anything! If these contracts fail to reach the delegation in Saint Denis a few things can or will occur." Carlos intoned. Lifting his hand and counting on his fingers as he kept on going.
"One: the delegates in Saint Denis assume the contracts are being withheld for whatever reason. Perhaps renegotiation, or contract adjustments without consent of themselves or the Federation. Or, two: the loss of the contracts would place them in a position to demand greater concessions due to the management firm in St. Louis failing to deliver the agreed upon contracts in time for the resigning period. That would activate immediate renegotiation by the delegates per the demands of the laborers. So," Carlos chuckled. A stray thought clearly humoring him. "As you can see, if these contracts fail to show for any reason I win out."
"You get to rein in those fellers who want to make a move away from some measure of control or another, I imagine." Hosea intuited. "So," Hosea gripped his knees and stood up from the boulder. "You want a dangerous gang of outlaws fleeing from troubles in the west to commit a robbery on a train of coaches. One of which will be carrying contracts in an err…"
"A parcel package of notes and so forth." Carlos explained.
"Ah, I see...well we rob these coaches blind, we take or destroy these contracts and you make out. Though one must wonder if your friend in Saint Denis wouldn't know you had anything to do with this?"
"In time he most certainly will." Carlos shrugged. "But, I don't care if he believes or knows I had anything to do with it in the long term, sir. I just need the time this disruption will provide to bring my people in the Unions back to the correct pastures."
"Sounds a bit, I don't know, like wishful thinking, don't it?" Arthur added.
"A bit, but this is a good plan. So long as it's done to the best of the abilities as are contracted. And, I am paying well, besides the goods you're free to take off the coaches."
"Hmm." Hosea hummed. Arthur sensing he liked something about what this Carlos feller had said. "That does bring us to the subject of payment for the work at hand now, doesn't it?"
"It does." Carlos smirked. "Look, I am willing to pay top dollar for good work. Good pay for adequate returns. I have done my research; well a little bit of research, but I like what I've seen of your gang." Carlos affirmed as Arthur wondered where all this was going? Namely what this city fool was willing to pay for a job like this?
"As I said you and yours can take anything and everything from the coaches. I'd be willing to pay for a maximum of four men, but I think three should be enough. Though I leave all planning of the job to you and yours." Carlos pointed absently between Arthur and Hosea. "However you want to hit it, is how you want to hit it. Make them believe it was a robbery of opportunity. That being said...let's say…" Carlos huffed a sigh. Eyes averting in thought as Arthur waited to hear the offe-
"Five hundred, per man."
"What?!" Arthur reeled! "You're willing to pay five hundred dollars...per man for a goddamn wagon train robbery?!"
"Not so loud, if you don't mind." Carlos bade with a look of mild discomfort to his face. "I said I was willing to pay, didn't I?"
"Forgive Arthur." Hosea apologized. "He's quick to open his mouth. More brawn than brain really."
"No doubt." Arthur shrugged. His mind still reeling...contracts?! Five hundred per man for contracts?!
"If you're willing to pay five hundred for these contracts they must mean quite a bit to you?"
"Correct, Mr. Matthews." Carlos nodded. "What these contracts will provide for me is a chance to retain control of what is mine. The money I'll make from such will be worthwhile for me and mine. That's why I'm willing to pay proper for this job, and then some. What is due and owed plus. It's no simple task, but...if what I've read is true I think you lot are more than capable." Carlos smiled. Though he then sighed and raised his hands up. "Just know, this job means a lot to me. If it were to go wrong well...I'd be out of pocket for quite a bit of money. Not just for this, but for what hell will come my way after. So...I'd prefer we do things properly."
"That a threat of some kind?" Arthur wondered with gravel to his voice, but Carlos plastered another thin, but grave smile to his features.
"Not a threat. Just a statement of fact, Mr. Morgan. Oh, and as for the contracts," Carlos wagged a finger as the thought came to him. "I promised a finders fee if you brought them to me. Destroy them if you want, I don't care, but if you can bring them to me, I'll add an additional five hundred on top of your pay, Mr. Morgan. Do with it whatever you want."
"You've gotta be bullshitting us! Hosea this sounds like crap!"
"Maybe, but what it sounds like and what it is can be separate things, Arthur." Hosea remained amicable even as Arthur internally reeled. That kind of money?! He didn't want to get his hopes up, 'course. They'd been taken for rides before with promises of big money...hell he just had to think of Blackwater. Of course that kind of money was different…
"Hmm." Carlos hummed and stepped backwards nearer to the quiet but watchful Ruggero. "Allow me?" Carlos pointed to his pocket. Hosea tilted to Arthur, who shrugged.
"Alright." Hosea allowed. Both Arthur and he watching as the man rifled through his pocket. Pulling out...a very thick bundle of cash…
"Shit." Arthur intoned. "What the hell do you do?"
"Many things, Mr. Morgan." Carlos smirked, a dark glint to his eyes that Arthur couldn't quite place. "This is...five hundred...a thousand...fifteen hundred...two thousand...twenty five..." Carlos counted the bills. The crinkle and sound of them reverberating in all four sets of ears "This is the maximum to be earned. Five hundred per man for a party of four, plus another five if you bring me those contracts."
"That's an...interesting offer." Arthur intoned at last.
"I'm sure." Carlos pocketed the money again. "Now, gentlemen, I have no doubt you may be thinking you could just rob me here and now, but we are rather close to Valentine." Carlos pointed back to the town. "And, I wouldn't want Ruggero to try and kill either of you. We've had an amicable discussion so far and I'd hate for it to end poorly."
"Of course." Hosea nodded. "If we do this, where would the meeting take place for the exchange?"
"Just me and Ruggero, and you, Mr. Morgan, plus whoever you want to bring with you. Two men meeting two men...hmm. Let's say, here? This boulder." Carlos offered with a nonchalant shrug. Tilting to Ruggero who also seemed agreeable. Non-verbally of course.
"Arthur?" Hosea caught his companion's attention. His mind still stuck on the pay...it was a hell of a goddamn pay. And...the feller seemed to have the money. Ride or not it sounded real damn pretty. "Arthur, what do you think?" Hosea shook him from his thoughts.
"Well…" He sighed, scratching a thoughtful hand across his chin. "It sounds doable. Very doable." Arthur offered, making himself as nonchalant as he could. "You said this wagon will be north of Strawberry?"
"Somewhere on the road coming down beside Lake Owanjila." Ruggero offered for Carlos.
"That country...I think it's pretty close to Strawberry."
"If you hit it fast and hard I don't think anyone in Strawberry would give a damn about some distant firing."
"Valleys carry the sound." Arthur noted.
"From what I've heard there's thick forests on either side of the main road."
"I hear ya'." Arthur intoned. Looking back to Hosea who cocked his head. His expression seeming intrigued, perhaps even amiable. And...they did need the money…
"Okay, sure. We can do that." Arthur offered and Carlos bore a crooked grin. His dark eyes lighting up like a boy getting his first kiss.
"Great! Now, like I said you and yours can make the details for how you hit the coaches. You just do it, and get back to me whenever you can. Me and Ruggero, we'll make this out new spot. If you don't see us, just wait, and we'll find you." Carlos breathlessly went on even as he back-stepped further and further from Arthur and Hosea. Ruggero flanking him. "This will be a beautiful little partnership, gentlemen! I can feel it...I can feel it!" Carlos laughed. Clapping his gloved hands as he turned. Marching off with his big bastard of a friend. Negotiations seeming to be done and dusted.
"Excitable feller ain't he?" Hosea intoned.
"Excitable, but he's got money." Arthur grumbled. "Plenty of it by the looks of it."
"Now Arthur," Hosea shook his head. "We don't need to be robbing folks as we've made deals with."
"I know. Just thinking about it is all, Hosea."
"Fair enough, my dear boy. Now…" Hosea sighed, mores seriousness coming to his expression as he paced over to Arthur. "What do you think?"
"Well, if these fellers is willing to pay for four of us, and give each five hundred I say we take it. Whether we need that many or not. That's two hundred and fifty to the camp between all four, that's a thousand bucks."
"You have a point, but we're sort of...lacking in men." Hosea noted and Arthur grumbled, finally easing his hand from his revolver and bringing both to his belt. Clasping it and frowning as he thought it over.
"We got me, which is a given."
"Right." Hosea nodded.
"Bill...Marston, but not sure if he's ready for a job like this?"
"I think John would do fine."
"Yeah but-"
"No buts, Arthur, no buts." Hosea pat his shoulder. "Whatever the uh...acrimony, we let it slide as business requires."
"Nah, you're right I just...I don't know." Arthur sighed. "Alright, well we still need two more."
"You don't want Bill?"
"I mean I could use him, but if we want this to go smoothly I'd like those with me as can keep calm always."
"Well then I'd say Charles."
"Of course." Arthur nodded. The pick more or less a given even before Hosea had said anything. "If Lenny were about I'd take him, but he and Micah...where the hell are they?"
"I don't know. It's slightly worrying, but I think the two will show themselves...eventually."
"Well…" Arthur sighed. "Javier then. He's good when work requires his attention."
"Guess that means you should head on over to Blackwater and attend to that Sean business sooner rather than later." Hosea noted. Arthur turning and pacing with him back towards their horses.
"What about this monster bear?"
"Ah, we can do this once we're all paid!" Hosea chuckled warmly. Again patting Arthur's shoulder. "You go on and get to Blackwater. Get that little Irish bastard out of the trouble he's gotten himself into. Once you work things out with the boys, and you're paid...we go find us a monster bear. What do you say?"
"Well, how could I say no, Hosea?"
"Exactly. Now you go on. Get out of here and let's make our new...business partners feel like they've got their money's worth. But," Hosea kept on as he mounted back atop Silver Dollar, unhitching him as he did. "Try and not turn the whole affair into another massacre, Arthur."
"I'll try Hosea, but-"
"No, I know." Hosea smiled. "Just focus on Sean, and worry about all that after."
"Great." Arthur scoffed. "From making money to thinking about a loudmouthed braggart in need of saving. Goddamn fool…"
"Ah, you can hide behind all that big dumb and angry facade all you want Arthur. We all know you love Sean."
"Desperately." Arthur chuckled. Shaking his head. "Alright, I'll meet you back at camp once we get him."
"Be careful, Arthur."
"Always." Arthur waved, as Hosea pushed Silver Dollar off. Moving back towards camp by the looks of things. Leaving him to make for Arminius, who seemed luckily to have remained calm through the boredom of their business. "Alright boy, let's go do something dangerous, reckless, and stupid." The horse sputtered as Arthur pat his neck.
"I know! Trust me, it's very stupid." Arthur agreed with a grin. Quickly enough mounting Arminius who seemed agreeable enough. A bit unsteady at first, but...calm.
The two moving off into the west. Towards Blackwater.
L's Note: Hello readers! As per any story/chapter I upload for the writer (and edit myself) please let me know if you find any egregious grammatical errors I've missed, and I will fix them ASAP! Also, please leave a review if you're so inclined, it is very motivational! But, people reading is a reward in and of itself.
Until the next!
-L
Edit Note: Edited/Updated 05/12/2022