"Look smart. Travel light."
Bill, Dutch, Javier, Charles, and Micah took the time to dress sharply before departing Shady Belle. However, the suit Bill wore did nothing to make him feel smart, in his opinion. Its plaid pattern stretched tighter across his stomach since the last time he'd worn it and the white undershirt itched like hell. It was worse than that clown suit Dutch made him wear for the mayor's party.
Bill had slicked his hair back too, leaving his hat behind. It made him nervous not having it and his eye hadn't quit twitching since they'd left. His hat was his damn good luck charm, but Dutch wouldn't let him mount Brown Jack wearing it, saying they needed to look professional today so they wouldn't catch the eye of any lawman.
"Micah, you're in charge of crowd control," Dutch instructed as their horses trotted down the muddy trail leading to Saint Denis. "Javier, you take the side exit. Make sure no one comes in or goes out. Charles, can you handle watching the entrance doors by yourself?"
Charles hadn't said anything since they'd set out, but he spoke up now. "Of course."
"Bill..."
Bill straightened on his saddle.
"This is important, Bill. You and I are gonna make for the vault. We gotta get that bank manager to give us those combinations in a timely fashion."
"Can do, Dutch."
"Hosea's done his reconnaissance real thoroughly on this bank, boys." Dutch told them with a grin. "Soon, we'll be on a boat down to Argentina and then on another up the cape."
"Where is Hosea?" Javier asked curiously. "I thought he and Abigail had cooked up some distraction for us."
Dutch's face hardened. "He's gone on ahead with his own little project."
"We don't need the old man for a job this important," Micah put in. "He'd slow us down."
Javier frowned at that. "What about John and Arthur? Wouldn't this go smoother with those two here?"
Dutch released an exasperated breath. "I'm getting tired of everyone endlessly asking the wrong types of questions."
"But without them, it's only the five of us—"
"We got this, Javier," Dutch cut in. "We've robbed banks before without any of them. Today will be no different, except the take will be higher so it'll be a bigger cut for you."
Javier's frown deepened, but he said agreeably, "Alright, boss."
"Relax. We'll be in and out fast enough. If we make this clean, nothing will go wrong."
The sky had darkened since heading out from Shady Belle, clouds moving in from the west. If they were lucky, they'd get a storm to cover their escape after the robbery.
As they entered Saint Denis, Bill noticed the streets were busy with the normal sort of people milling around aimlessly. Everyone strutted around constantly in this city, like they ain't got nothing goddamned better to do.
Bill followed Dutch and soon they dismounted on the street across from the bank. They faced Javier's side entrance, where he'd take position.
"This is it, boys," Dutch promised. "One last time."
Everyone except Javier made for the front entrance. Before swinging open the doors, they each threw on their masks. Bill's was a simple white sack with eye and mouth cutouts. When they entered the bank, he caught sight of Javier as he slipped inside. That man's choice of mask was bizarre, a stolen pale face with an eternal smile. It creeped him the hell out.
"Ladies and gentleman," Dutch announced confidently, "this is a hold up."
Never one to miss an opportunity to spin his revolvers into action, Micah shot in the air, driving the people to the back and away from the front door so no one could escape. While Micah was rounding up the patrons, he was also relieving them of their valuables. It seemed an unnecessary occupation to Bill, as it would be chicken feed compared to what they'd get from the vault, but there didn't seem to be a reason not to either.
"No one do anything stupid now," Dutch warned the people in the bank.
Bill scanned the rest of the lobby, looking for his intended victim. There was a man frozen in place behind the circular counter until Micah shoved him with the others, but Bill didn't think he was the manager anyway. He looked to Dutch for guidance and he pointed to a man with a golden pin on his jacket backed against a set of double doors.
Bill moved, grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the vault door. "Open the vault or you're dead."
The manager whimpered and shakily started turning the dial.
Once Micah herded all the patrons to the doors in the back, he pushed them open. He sneered at someone inside. "Howdy, cowpoke."
Bill shifted his attention as Morgan swept out the doors, between the people rushing in. His sudden appearance confused the hell out of Bill. Even more nonsensical, Morgan went straight into a fight with Dutch.
"What the hell you doing here, Dutch?"
"Arthur," Dutch said in a cool voice. "I thought you'd be cleared out by now."
"And I thought we had a plan so we wouldn't need to go through with this."
"I have a plan to get money, Arthur. More than you can from Mrs. Balfour." Dutch peered around. "Where is your oh-so generous benefactor, by the way?"
"I sent her off already so she wouldn't become an accomplice when you get us caught."
"With the money?" demanded Micah.
Morgan scowled and snapped, "'Course with the goddamned money."
Dutch spared a moment in his disagreement to snap, "Bill, get that bastard moving!"
Startled, Bill turned once again to the cowering bank manager while Dutch and Morgan bickered more.
"Get this goddamned vault open right now!" Bill struck the bank manager's head as encouragement.
At the hit, the man's arms dropped to his sides. His eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped against the vault. Bill stared at the body sliding to the floor in an unconscious state. Bill blinked, frozen in place and unable to comprehend what he'd just done.
Shit.
"What the hell did you do?" Micah had come up beside him. He wasn't concerned for the man, but for the information that was in his head. He spat scornfully, "I swear, you got nothin' but shit for brains, Williamson."
Bill said defensively, "I didn't hit him that hard." But he knew he had.
Luckily, Dutch hadn't noticed his mistake yet as Morgan continued urgently, "We ain't got time for this. Lenny says law's on the way."
"Impossible," argued Dutch. "We rode into town without anyone the wiser."
"Someone's wise to it because—"
"Dutch!" an irritatingly familiar voice called from outside. "Get out here now."
Bill abandoned the knocked out manager and vault. He followed everyone else to the windows. It was a bunch of goddamned lawmen, like Morgan had said. They lined the balcony across the street on either side of a group of Pinkertons clustered in front of the bank. The Pinkertons were behind crates and wagons, their rifles and pistols pointed steadily in the gang's direction.
Agent Milton came around from behind the wagon, a gun trained on a person he had grasped by the arm, a woman with an overflow of vibrant red hair. "Found her trying to leave the country."
Bill stated the obvious, "It's Molly."
"She musta been the one who squealed," Micah accused.
Morgan shook his head. "She got the raw end of the deal if she did."
"Come out now, Mr. Van der Linde," Milton threatened, "or Miss O'Shea's dress will soon match her hair."
"Bastard!" Molly snarled at Milton and tried to pull away.
Still holding his gun, Milton backhanded her across the cheek.
"Jesus," Morgan said with disgust.
"We don't need her," Bill said. Give up Dutch for Molly? That weren't a deal at all.
"For once," Micah said. "I agree with the idiot Williamson. Let the bitch rot."
Morgan studied the situation. "Maybe Dutch can keep Milton talkin' while we come up with somethin' to distract him. Might be able to pull her out."
"She's a rat, Morgan," Micah pressed.
"We don't know that she is."
"She's bait. We know that much."
Dutch deliberated silently for a moment.
Milton called out again, "Mr. Van der Linde, this is your last chance to come out peacefully."
Finally, Dutch's face hardened and he called out, "Imprison her, kill her or spare her. Miss O'Shea don't mean shit to me, Mr. Milton."
Milton frowned over Dutch's decision and narrowed his eyes in their direction, recalculating.
"You sack of shit!" Molly wailed, "I loved you, you goddamned bastard!"
Eyes trained on Molly, Dutch said, "Arthur, would you kindly put Miss O'Shea out of her misery?"
Morgan turned in surprise. "What?"
"She's been working with the Pinkertons. What are the chances she ain't talked? You know the rules."
"Dutch." Morgan's expression was aghast. "It's one thing to cut her loose and let Milton have her, but coldblooded murder? In the street?"
"Bill," Dutch turned to him, "will you do the honors?"
Before Bill could raise his rifle, Agent Milton was speaking again. "If that's how you want it, take your whore back to die with the rest of you."
Milton shoved her into the street. Caught in the middle of a standoff, Miss O'Shea stared in their direction and glanced back at the Pinkertons with hesitation. Bill knew she was stalling 'cause she was dead no matter which party she stepped towards.
Milton decided to make the choice for her. He raised his sidearm and aimed for the heart.
Just as Miss O'Shea was sure to die an early death, an explosion rumbled the ground violently. Whistles erupted with an unorganized madness about two blocks behind the officers and a cloud of smoke floated above the rooftops.
The police at Milton's back abandoned their positions and headed down the street to investigate.
"Stop, you idiots!" Milton hollered at the retreating policemen, pointing at the bank. "They're the root cause of all this."
But Milton had no true authority of the Saint Denis police. On top of that, while Milton's back was turned, Miss O'Shea had disappeared from sight in the confusion. It was as if she'd never been there in the first place. Slippery, devil woman.
"What the hell was that?" exclaimed Bill, watching the smoke billow.
Dutch seemed to be wondering the same thing until his expression cleared and he said with excitement, "I love that, Hosea!"
"Damn it," Milton cursed to his fellow agents. "Men, open fire on these degenerates."
The rest of the Pinkertons did as he ordered. Even with the absent lawmen, Milton had brought with him enough manpower to keep the gang pinned inside the bank.
Bill didn't hesitate in responding in kind and his companions did the same. He asked over his shoulder, "What's the play here, Dutch?"
"I'm working on it."
Bill didn't waste time with chatter. He let their leader make the plan while he focused his rifle on killing as many goddamn Pinkertons as he could.
At some point in the gunfire, Dutch retreated deeper into the bank, ducking behind the circular desk, likely needing the moment to think up something. Bill wasn't worried. Dutch got them out of Blackwater. He'd get them out of this.
"I got an idea," Dutch said eventually. "Arthur, you still alive?"
"Just about," he bit back and moved to join Dutch.
Bill took up Arthur's better position on the other side of the window. He didn't hear what they were doing back there, but after a few moments more, he found out.
The floor shook again, but this time debris flew Bill's direction and he nearly lost his footing. He looked back to find a hole gaping the side of the building.
Bill grinned. Crazy bastard had done it. Dutch always came through with something.
He thought they'd immediately leave, but Dutch shook his head and joined him. "Arthur will head for the roof to cover us. We'll start following once we're clear."
"How are we gonna know when that is?"
Bill didn't need to ask. It was obvious when Arthur was in position because suddenly men was falling like struck trees before Bill even got an aim on them. While Morgan's privilege with Dutch pissed him off most of the time, he couldn't deny the man's handiness to come through in desperate times.
Once the five of them started heading for the hole in the wall, Pinkertons busted the side door Javier had been protecting. It was a blind spot to Morgan's sniping position, but they all slipped from the building without injury. Bill was in the rear, suppressing fire.
He remained behind Dutch, Javier, Micah and Charles climbing the ladder. Near the top, Bill heard Morgan warn, "They got a Gatling gun. Stay low."
They all followed his direction, crouching as low as possible while bullets pinged the brick below them, dusting the air.
Arthur and Dutch conferred like they hadn't been at each others' throats minutes ago. The prodigal son gains favor once again.
Bill didn't have the time to spare for sulking as some of the police had returned to the scene. He, Javier, Micah and Charles held off while Dutch figured out what they had to do next.
"What you think?" Dutch was asking Morgan.
"I reckon, me and Charles find a way across the roofs and you cover us."
"Sure, sure." Dutch gestured for them to move. "Get going."
"Charles?"
Charles stood and made his way to Morgan. "Let's go."
Javier and Micah left the corner while Bill shot one more officer before following. They kept a short distance from Charles and Morgan as the two leapt onto the next rooftop, Bill watching their rears for any stray Pinkertons.
Ahead of Morgan and Charles, the rooftop door entrance flew open and two Pinkertons swung out, guns rising. Morgan lifted his firearm in response, but he wasn't going to be fast enough. Shots rang out, echoing across the sky. Like the others, Bill stopped and stared, expecting Morgan, Charles or both to collapse from gunshot wounds.
Instead, it was the Pinkertons themselves who fell to the ground nearly on top of each other. Both were dead.
"What the hell?" Bill yelled.
The next moment, the door to the roof swung open all the way and John stepped out. He spun his revolver into his holster and faced them with a half grin. "Funny runnin' into you fellas up here."
"Marston!" Morgan said. "How'd you find us?"
"Heard two of them Pinkerton bastards talkin' about cutting you off and followed them up."
Bill could hear lawmen and Pinkertons running below. It wouldn't take long for them to catch up if they sat around gossiping like a bunch of elderly women. He snapped impatiently, "Quit chatting and keep moving."
The seven of them now continued across the rooftops, jumping a gap to the next building. They crouched, huddled together as the policemen kept blowing their whistles for some indeterminable reason. As they waited a moment, Morgan and Marston started whispering.
"Where's Hosea?" asked Morgan.
"I don't know." John grimaced. "We set off the charges and ran separate ways."
"Lenny? Charlotte? The reverend? You see them?"
"Shush!" Dutch interrupted.
John shrugged at Arthur in response, clearly not knowing.
They all listened to the pounding footsteps of officers or Pinkertons running in the alleys beneath them. As soon as they were past, Dutch had the gang moving again too.
"Follow me, one at a time."
Dutch took the lead and they crossed a balcony and another couple of rooftops before he directed them to crawl into a boarded up window of an abandoned building.
Soon as they got inside, Morgan pointed an accusing finger at Micah. "They knew we were coming. Just like your ferry job in Blackwater."
"Ain't nothing like that," Micah shot back.
"It's exactly like that." Morgan glared, hand hovering over his holster like he was about to pull his gun and shoot Micah right here, right now.
"Amigos." Javier stepped between them. "We shouldn't be fighting. It's what Milton wants. We need to stop this and think of a way out."
"Javier's right," Dutch said.
But Micah couldn't seem to let well enough alone. "I don't see you carrying no money bag, Morgan. Didn't your little miss hand it over?"
"She did."
"Then where is it?"
"I imagine, on its way back to camp with Lenny and Swanson."
John asked, "What happened in the bank?"
Morgan shifted his anger off of Micah to focus on John. "Lenny warned us before the law arrived. I told him to get them other two out of there. I don't know what tipped them off in the first place."
John shook his head, addressing their leader. "You never should have gone after Bronte, Dutch."
Dutch's eyes flashed. "It wasn't because of that."
"You don't think it brought the wrong kind of attention on us, killing that bastard off?" John challenged. "He said the Pinkertons were on to us and now we know he weren't lyin'."
Micah cut in, "It was Miss O'Shea who was squealin' to them. We saw it ourselves. We were never supposed to make it out of there."
Bill thought that made sense so he started nodding, but Morgan disagreed.
"That ain't what it looked like to me."
"Seems to me, what it looked like was you being quick to get your money out of there."
"It was for everyone, Micah. You know that," Morgan snarled. "Besides, money ain't worth shit if we ain't alive to spend it. We're lucky we all got out with our own skins."
John pointed out, "Except we don't know what happened to Hosea."
"Enough," Dutch scolded. "Everyone, calm down."
Bill asked of Dutch, "What now?"
"I don't know," he answered, pacing the room. "This whole town is filled with cops."
"How long are we gonna stay here?" grunted Morgan. "A few hours?
"We go back to camp, they're gonna get every last one of us." Dutch was thinking. "I know they're gonna be watching the roads."
This was all too much goddamn running for Bill's liking. He sat, settling against the wall, Javier joining him.
While Dutch contemplated their situation, John broke the silence. "The plan Hosea and Lenny cooked up was a sure thing. What the hell were you doing in that bank today, Dutch?"
Dutch narrowed his eyes on Morgan and John, and countered, "Why was that woman so eager to turn you boys against me?"
"That's what that peacocking around with the bank was about?" Arthur asked in disgust. "Charlotte didn't do a damn thing except show pity to a bunch of fools."
"She encouraged Molly to leave," Dutch insisted.
Micah asked, "And where did poor Miss O'Shea end up? In the hands of the Pinkertons."
"Is Molly a victim or a rat?" snapped John. "You can't have it both ways, Micah."
"Charlotte didn't have nothin' to do with neither, but it don't matter." Arthur said to Dutch. "You ain't gonna see her again anyhow. She's takin' a train home from Saint Denis. Likely already got on one if your interference didn't halt all of them."
They fell quiet, but tension remained, sparking over the room. John and Arthur stood together facing Dutch and Micah. Eventually, Arthur moved off to the window, to stare moodily out. John went to the opposite wall to lean against it. Micah stayed near Dutch in the middle of the room until he started pacing again. Only Charles hadn't entered the conflict, resting in a chair and watching them all.
"I got it!" Dutch turned from his pacing and said triumphantly, "A boat."
Arthur, at the window, said with confusion, "What you mean?
Dutch explained, "We stay here 'til nightfall. We sneak on down to the docks and get ourselves out of here."
"Yeah, but where?" Bill didn't mind the idea, but he was thinking of his horse. He hoped Brown Jack hadn't been injured in the crossfire of those cop bastards.
Dutch answered, "Any place will do. That's all I got."
"That's all you got?" John said scornfully. "That ain't enough."
The goddamned disrespect! If he wasn't so shit out of breath, Bill would go toe to toe with Marston over his insolence.
"I'm doing my best here, John," Dutch said with undeniable patience.
"Your best," John said with disgust, "is us in this goddamn mess. And this mess is Blackwater all over again."
Javier jumped to his feet, coming to Dutch's defense with more energy than Bill could muster. "You keep wanting to blame Dutch for Blackwater. It was a job gone wrong, but it wasn't his fault."
John said, "You were there, Javier. You know—"
"We leave," Dutch interrupted. "We lie low. We come back for the rest of the family in a few weeks."
"A few weeks?" John asked, appalled.
Arthur shook his head and returned to watching out the window. "I'm guessing it's that or we die out there right now."
"Exactly," Dutch said agreeably.
John jumped in again, "I can't do that, Dutch."
"And why not?"
Micah butted in, "You hidin' something, Marston? You sure found us pretty quick on the rooftop. Who you got to rush off to so fast?"
John ignored any implications on Micah's part and unexpectedly admitted, "Abigail...she'll kill me if I leave for that long."
"She'll understand," Dutch told him. "She'll have to."
"She don't know what's going on here," John argued. "Last thing she heard, we was going to town for a withdrawal, not the goddamned bank robbery."
"The gang comes first," Dutch told him through gritted teeth. "Even she knows that much."
John muttered, "I'd like to see you try tellin' her that."
Bill thought Marston might be pissy because everyone knew he couldn't swim. Being on a boat with a weakness like that wouldn't be ideal. Bill ain't never heard of a more ridiculous notion himself. How hard was it to kick your legs in the water?
"Your place is here, son."
John clenched his fists. "I don't know if it is, Dutch."
Dutch's expression was unreadable, but his shoulders were tense. "If you got so much doubt in your heart, then why bother to come back?"
"I came to see if y'all needed help shootin' your way out of Saint Denis. Not to get on a damn boat and get shipped off to who the hell knows where."
Dutch and John stared each other down. "If you ain't likin' the way I do things, Mr. Marston, maybe you should go your own way."
"Maybe I should."
Morgan stepped between them like Javier had done earlier. He spoke to John. "You leave here, you're a fool, Marston."
"Better a fool than stickin' around here listenin' to the same shit that gets us nowhere."
Dutch responded defensively, "Now, that ain't fair. We were set up."
"We nearly got caught. Again." John scoffed. "It's becoming a goddamned pattern. I ain't stayin'."
Morgan watched John head for the door, asking, "Where are you gonna go, John?"
"I'll find my own way out of Saint Denis. Then I'll head back to camp. Someone's gotta warn everyone. Might as well be me. After that..." He paused at the door and eyed each one of them as if not sure who to trust. "I don't know."
That was the end of that conversation. John left the room, abandoning them to get out of Saint Denis without him. Dutch looked daggers at the door with eyes that could kill.
Morgan tried to placate Dutch. "Let him cool off. He's just an idiot who's actually thinkin' of his family first for once."
"The gang comes first, Arthur," Dutch said in a menacing tone. "We are his family."
"I know," answered Morgan. "And he knows it too. He ain't runnin' off. He's going back for the ones who can't defend themselves. You heard him yourself."
When Dutch wasn't seeming any less angry, Morgan reminded him, "He came back for us when he coulda left Saint Denis already. He saved me and Charles on that rooftop, Dutch. "
"If that boy thinks he can get away with these little rebellions, he's wrong," Dutch warned. "But right now, we got to worry about ourselves."
The rest of them fell into near silence after John left. Arthur stayed by the window, as the rest of them settled down on the floor.
Bill dozed off against the wall, waking from Javier shaking his shoulder. He stretched and stood, noticing the darkened sky and the pattering of rain against the broken window.
Bill eyed the rain glumly. They shoulda been back at camp, warm in the house and weighted down by cash and gold by now. They shoulda been makin' plans of leaving this country behind rich.
Dutch led them out of the building, taking a straight path up the streets of Saint Denis, through a train car and around the docks with Morgan providing a brief distraction.
While stuck in a train car waiting for guards to pass, they caught the conversation between two men doing a shit job searching the inside.
"We've wasted enough time with these fools," said the first.
The second answered, "They caught one of 'em trying to sneak on the train a few hours ago. Maybe the others will be stupid enough to try it too."
Bill wondered who, but after the guards passed, Morgan said with regret, "Sounds like they got Marston then."
Serves him right for fighting with Dutch like he did. Maybe he'll learn some goddamn respect after some time in jail, Bill thought, but held his tongue. No need to make himself a target for Morgan's temper.
The six of them ran into another hitch when the last section before their getaway was blocked by a group of agents standing around.
Charles offered to deal with them by himself. He strolled out from the pallets they'd hidden behind, casual as can be. In a second, he'd attracted the attention of the group standing around.
"Hey, buddy! Hey, stop! Stop!"
Charles took off running the other direction and the Pinkertons followed like baited fish.
"That is one of the most beautiful acts I've ever seen."
At the admiration in Dutch's voice, Bill nearly wished he'd made the sacrifice, except he weren't no runner. Once the Pinkertons were out of the way, the rest of them sneaked onto the nearest docked vessel, hiding in between the cargo boxes.
At the breaking of dawn, the boat left the dock and they had escaped over open waters and onto freedom, exactly where Dutch said they'd end up when he'd thought of it hours ago.
Dutch had led them to safety, despite being fenced in by the law. He outsmarted the Pinkertons and now they had a ride to Cuba. They'd stay away for awhile, lie low, come back eventually and regroup with the others. With what little money Micah had robbed off the bank patrons, their little group could skim by until their next hit. Bill wasn't worried.
After all, Dutch always had a plan.
