Leopold found that numbers always made better friends than people. It had been that way since he was nine years old, when he still lived in Vienna with his family.
As a child, he regularly succumbed to a variety of illnesses that left him weak, so most days he'd be inside, stuck in bed and away from any other children.
When he inevitably exhausted the house's single shelf of books, he moved on to his brother's abandoned school books. He just so happened to come across a workbook on mathematics. Leopold's love for the subject flourished and led him on a path he might never have explored otherwise.
By the time he reached the age of seventeen, he hadn't shaken his daily sickly disposition. His parents could no longer afford to keep him if he couldn't work. He'd have wounded up in an orphanage if his Uncle Felix hadn't invited him on a ship headed for America.
As if the prospect of the New World revived him, Leopold somehow shed his childhood sickness on the ship ride over. After nearly forty years, he still had no reasonable explanation for the phenomenon.
However, the miracle cure did not extend to his uncle. Felix struggled to adapt to the chaos of New York City and died of a heart attack shortly after their arrival.
With no means to pay for housing, Leopold lived on the streets and he hated it. He got sick again. He knew he had to change something or he was going to die. It was pure chance he found himself in the basement of City Hall, working alongside a treasurer and assisting with payroll.
Leopold devoured the work. Numbers were easy to keep in his head and they let him forget the cruelty of the outside world. Leopold carried on with this and other miscellaneous accounting jobs for years, smudging the numbers whenever he felt his employer was skimming on his pay. When he scammed the wrong man and was caught out, he'd had to flee New York.
Leopold didn't like how he'd become so remiss, but he knew it was because of the constant changes and moving around. Secretly, it unnerved him. The last thing he wanted this late in life was to return to poverty. It was why he was on the hunt today, to track down Mr. Morgan and task him with the two names in his book.
Leopold scanned his eyes across the camp, at everyone packing away once again, but Arthur was not in sight. It seemed everyone else was outside, and the sight of his fellow gang members brought to mind their most current contributions they'd made in the ledger.
Mr. Pearson finished closing up the back of the food wagon and turned to assist Susan with a crate.
Pearson: a fish, bluegill
A poor contribution, too be sure, but his reliable meal preparations made up for it.
Susan: nothing of late
Her latest contributions relied solely on her delegating the other women rather than any physical offerings.
Leopold winced as he took his first step away of the cabin. His leg ached nowadays after it rained and it never stopped raining in Lakay. Leopold couldn't voice his complaints as it was his idea to hide here. It had been a couple months since he'd been wounded from that fiasco in Valentine, yet the pain from the gunshot persisted in aggravating him daily.
Despite his years with the Van der Linde gang, that had been the first time Leopold had been caught in the middle of the fray. He discovered exactly how much he did not like getting shot at. That was the moment he decided he would not be leaving camp until the heat was off of them. Only, that hadn't happened again until half of them were lost at sea.
The group left behind hadn't had a single incident or run-in with the law, bounty hunters, or Pinkertons until Dutch and Bill arrived. Not even Arthur or Micah's presence had raised any alarms. What that meant to Leopold was confirmation on his assumptions that Dutch inadvertently summoned the worst of their hunters. Of course, Dutch had always been a particularly desirable target for the law. However, for once, the Pinkertons hadn't held back in their shootout and it was the second time in months Leopold seriously feared for his life.
Near the edge of camp, Bill stood with his horse, saddling it and giving it as much attention as a coddling mother.
Bill: boar tusks, $5.26, three duck feathers
That gathering of random items was before he'd been lost with the others. Usually the oaf was forgetful when it came to contributing his share and donated whatever was on him at the time.
Away from the others, Micah sat on a barrel cleaning his guns, petting them in a similarly loving manner as Bill treated his horse.
Mr. Bell: $17.00
Leopold's lip curled in a sneer, despite the amount. Micah rarely donated, but when he did, it was cash and conveniently done at the same moment Dutch inspected the box. Leopold was not fooled by his brown-nosing ways.
Lenny strode past Leopold, heading for one of the wagons, a sack thrown over his shoulder.
"Mr. Summers," he called, stopping him. "May I have a word?"
The boy glanced at him and grimaced. Leopold didn't take offense because he knew what was on Lenny's mind.
Lenny: a gold chain, $2.30
The dollar amount was the full amalgamation of Lenny's attempt in retrieving debts. A pathetic collection, to be sure.
Leopold had three names total in his ledger due for collecting. The first, Mr. Davison, Arthur was supposed to have dealt with, but Leopold had never received confirmation it had been. When he sent Lenny to investigate, there was no one at the house and nothing of value to make up the loan.
The more recent Mr. Londonderry was another desperate family man to add to the list. They were common enough men and easy to find.
Desperation had always been a quality Leopold could sniff out. One might call it a gift. The neediness showed itself in the darting of the client's eyes, in the sweating of their palms and in the high-pitched tones of their denials.
In this case, Leopold wasn't the only one who smelled the reek of Londonderry's despair. Leopold had wanted the debt collected soon because he was aware the miner had other sharks ready to bite. Yet, Mr. Summers had been reluctant to continue the work because of the second name on the list.
Mr. Weathers should have been easier to get money from. A soldier he was, yes, but a deserter with more devotion than a sense of duty. By the way Lenny had avoided Leopold's eye contact after that trip, he suspected the boy had unfortunately caught sight of the soldier's immensely pregnant wife. While the more naive may consider Lenny's act of mercy morally admirable, a conscience didn't keep the rest of them fed.
However, Leopold was not here to uselessly berate a man who didn't have the capacity to overlook a stranger's situation for the gang's. No, he sought a superior specimen.
"Mr. Summers," he asked, "have you seen Mr. Morgan?"
Lenny frowned at him. "Last I heard, he and Charles were the ones clearing out a place for the new camp."
Leopold had first enlisted Arthur for collections after they'd left Blackwater. Before him, the Callander brothers had made themselves willingly available to pursue all the debts. They never returned empty-handed. Arthur turned out to be a successful follower in their footsteps. However, with every debtor, Mr. Morgan grew ever more reluctant to follow through. Yet, with the proper encouragement, Leopold believed the job could still be accomplished.
How irritating Leopold didn't catch Arthur before he left. He could have given up the names and perhaps the money would have been ready for the box when they arrived in their new camp. "Pity. When will they return?"
"Quit distracting Lenny from his work, Mr. Strauss," interrupted Sadie.
Lenny moved on and Leopold turned to the woman who had of late ascended as their leader.
Mrs. Adler: small pelts, tonics, canned vegetables, biscuits, ammunition, shoes for Jack...
For a woman who had started out as an additional mouth to feed, her contributions to the gang recently were nearly endless. Without her, they might not have survived and certainly, they would not have stayed together.
All in all, Mrs. Adler impressed him. More than any woman that he'd known before her.
"Get your ass moving, Strauss," Sadie ordered. "We ain't coming back if you get left behind."
Leopold had his essentials in a traveling bag so he needn't rush himself. "Of course, Mrs. Adler."
Sadie barely looked at him and he sensed she wished he would stay behind. Her and some of the others acted like his business revolted them, but they had yet to refuse the money he brought in. He scoffed at their disgust. Did they think he'd never been poor before? That he didn't understand their plight?
His father sold his sister to bonded slavery when she was a child to offset the family's expenses. He also sent Leopold's brother out to steal from watchmen in order to feed the family. Leopold knew where to draw the line when one was without means. Those who accepted his loans needed to learn their own boundaries.
From the trail entrance of the camp, a single horseman rode in. It was Charles and he dismounted, striding with purpose to Dutch now in discussion with Micah.
Charles: quality deer and wolf pelts, $23.45
"Dutch, I need to speak with you."
"Ah, Mr. Smith." Dutch greeted in friendly tones. "How goes the takeover of Beaver Hollow?"
Charles stopped before him. "We didn't make it."
"You didn't...make it?" A storm formed over Dutch's brows and he slowly shifted to face Charles. "Did I not make clear the urgency needed? We need a place to lie low. What the hell have you and Arthur been doing all day?"
"We escorted Mrs. Balfour home."
"Oh and her needs outweigh the needs of the gang, of the family now, is that it?"
Charles frowned at the sudden hostility. "Of course not."
"And where is Arthur right now?"
"He's with Charlotte readying—"
"You spent all day with that woman instead of ensuring the family's safety? I'm disappointed in the both of you." Dutch turned from Charles and addressed some of the other men, "Bill, Lenny, John, can you three succeed where Arthur and Charles have failed? Ride up to Beaver Hollow, clear it of any squatters and be the saviors this family needs."
"We can't go into those woods," Charles argued. "The Pinkertons know—"
"The Pinkertons don't know shit."
"Besides," Micah stepped up to Dutch's side. "We killed most of them bastards last night. They're nothing we can't handle."
Bill and Lenny had obeyed Dutch's order, heading for their horses, but John hesitated on the edge of the group.
John: poor quality pelts, $4.30
Mr. Marston had been severely lacking in donations as of late, even before he was arrested.
Abigail stepped in front of her lover, holding his sleeve. "Dutch, John can't leave."
Dutch crossed his arms as he went up against Miss Roberts next. "And why not?"
"He just got back from jail. He ain't even slept yet."
Dutch said wryly, "And you can blame Arthur for his lack of reprieve."
"He's tired. He can't—"
"I assure you, Miss Roberts, we are all tired."
When Abigail started her arguments, John's initial reluctance cleared and stubbornness replaced it. "I'll go."
"But, John—"
"I don't need you to defend me, woman." He stalked from her without a backward glance, saddled up and took off behind Bill and Lenny.
"Dutch," Charles said calmly, but an edge had moved into his tone. "This is ridiculous."
"Ridiculous?" The word seemed to infuriate him. "That I want my family protected and hidden?"
"No, but—"
"Listen up, everyone," Dutch spoke over Charles and stepped around in a semi-circle to draw the most attention. Those who hadn't been keeping up stopped to stare now. "Mr. Charles Smith thinks he knows better than old Dutch van der Linde."
"That's not what I'm saying." Charles' gaze was locked on Dutch. "Why do you refuse to listen?"
"Oh, I have listened, son. Closer than you think." He addressed the rest of them again. "People, when are we the strongest?" He answered for them, accentuating his point with a waving fist. "When. We. Are. Together."
Charles stared, as if not believing what he was hearing.
The idea of a family unit was not one Leopold was sold on so he couldn't say Dutch's speech moved him any. However, he did believe in pulling one's own weight for the group to succeed. If Leopold had learned anything in the last few weeks regarding Charles Smith, it was that the man didn't mince words. If he thought there was issue, it deserved to be heard out.
"Why do the woods concern you, Mr. Smith?"
Dutch cut a glare his way, but Leopold saw no harm in asking.
"There are dozens of Pinkertons stationed near," Charles told all of them. "In Van Horn."
Gasps and whispers spread throughout those who were still present.
"It is not a concern to us, folks," Dutch replied breezily. "We expected this. It's why we are moving out today." His attention shifted back to Charles. "It's why you and Arthur should have been ready for us by now."
"There's another spot for us to be safe," Charles appealed to the others, seemingly already giving up on convincing Dutch. "Mrs. Balfour has offered her land for us to use for a few days."
"Do not doubt me." Dutch's face flushed red, clearly restraining his anger. "If any of you wants to leave the family, to throw your lives away in favor of trust for a stranger, you'll damn yourselves to death."
"Our intention is to benefit everyone," Charles tried to compel them. "Come with me."
Charles didn't plead, but he tried to catch everyone's eye as Leopold followed his gaze and the others' responses. Susan glared openly, Tilly crossed her arms and Mary-Beth looked away. Micah smirked, Pearson's brows pinched together, Sadie rested a hand on her hip and Javier frowned. Only Abigail seemed tempted to accept, but she wouldn't leave without John, who'd already cleared off on Dutch's order. Uncle and Karen were nowhere to be seen.
"Mr. Smith, we have no time for your dallying. Go back to Arthur. Let him know where to find us. If either of you has any sense, you'll join us in Beaver Hollow too and we'll put this pessimism behind us." Dutch began his return to the house, but paused and said over his shoulder, "They trust me to keep them safe and you should too."
Something about the discussion felt off to Leopold and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. However, Dutch's declaration served to be effective for everyone else. One by one, each member of the gang turned away from Charles, returning to their duties.
Before Mrs. Adler left, Charles called, "Sadie?"
That could prove interesting. If Charles could get her to agree, it may sway the others in a way that would displease Dutch.
But she shook her head in refusal. "Sorry, Charles. It ain't nothin' personal."
"How is it not?" Some bitterness leaked into his words.
"You do what you need to. I got business here."
"What sort of business?"
Her eyes glittered. "Dutch will lead me to Colm."
"Revenge, Sadie?" he asked in disgust. "You're above that."
She stiffened defensively. "No, I ain't."
He told her, "The death of the O'Driscolls won't bring you peace."
"I don't care about peace," she spat. "I just want them dead."
"Do what you have to then."
They glared at each other a moment before Sadie's expression softened, as if she didn't want to fight. "What about you? You gonna come back?"
Charles rubbed his jaw. "I'll let Arthur know what happened, what Dutch said. Maybe he knows a way to fix this." He tilted his head back the way he came. "We'll be set up north of Annesburg, at a house near a waterfall. If anyone changes their mind..."
"I'll give them the message," Sadie promised.
Charles didn't bother waiting around to try and convince any others. He knew where their loyalties lie.
However, unexpectedly, one of the gang members had not obediently returned to their duties. Cautiously, Mary-Beth made her way over to Charles, picking up her pace when he mounted his horse.
Mary-Beth: two silver bracelets, a gold pocket watch
She was a charmer with quick fingers and an asset to the group.
"Mr. Smith!" she called in a loud whisper.
Charles waited, raising a dark brow at her curiously.
"I'll go with you," she proclaimed.
Leopold felt his own eyebrows rise high above his glasses. He wasn't the only one to notice Miss Gaskill's sudden want of escape.
"Mary-Beth, what are you doin'?" Tilly strode up. "You trying to leave us?"
Miss Jackson: $3.20
Most of her valuable roles involved information gathering for the other members.
"This could be my big break, Tilly." Mary-Beth beamed. "My dream come true."
"What are you talkin' about?"
"Charlotte's read my work and she says it's good," Mary-Beth said excitedly. "She told me she knows how to connect me to publishers in Chicago."
"She did?"
"I can't pass it up." Mary-Beth grabbed Tilly's hands. "I love you as a sister, Tilly, but I just got to do this. Don't you understand? This could turn my life around for good."
Tilly squeezed her hand. "Just...be safe then, Mary-Beth. And come back to us if it don't work out."
"You should join us," Charles suggested. "If you venture into those hills, there's no guarantee any of you are coming out again."
Charles Smith was not a man to exaggerate so his earnestness had Leopold considering the warning seriously.
While he pondered the conundrum, Tilly released Mary-Beth's hand and answered, "I'm sorry, Mr. Smith, but my place is here. Miss Grimshaw and Abigail will be struggling enough with Mary-Beth and Charlotte leaving."
Charles assisted Mary-Beth behind him and they were off. Tilly remained in the same spot, watching her friend leave and unaware of Leopold's witness to all.
He turned around finally, with the intention of reporting to Dutch this development between his subordinates. It was as he was making his way up to the cabin that Leopold figured out what he'd read in Dutch van der Linde's tone and expression when he'd spoken against Charles.
It had never been easy for Leopold to read emotion in another person, but desperation had always been one he could skillfully detect. While Leopold knew how to manipulate desperate men for his own uses, it wasn't a quality he expected nor wanted to see in a man he respected.
