A week later
Almost dawn, it would be Harriet's turn to take watch. She finally got used to this new rhythm and her new way of living. After selling enough pelts and a few jewels she managed to loot from a stagecoach robbery she took part in with Arthur and Lenny, Harriet had been able to buy herself some new blue jeans and a proper equipment for her horse.
Taking her bow and arrows, she got up from the bedroll and was on her way to the border of the forest when a voice stopped her.
"Miss Wiley."
The woman turned around to see Dutch walking up to her. She instinctively straightened her back and swallowed in apprehension of what he would tell her.
"Did someone show you how to shoot yet?" he asked as he got closer.
Simply shaking her head, she waited for him to order her to go practice or to just go on with her business. But he didn't.
"Arthur. How is it that that nobody took care of her?" He almost shouted to be heard by Arthur, slowly getting up from his cot.
"I've been busy…" he justified in a mumble.
"Yeah, I can see that." Dutch snapped back.
In a way, Harriet enjoyed this little show. Dutch seemed to be a fatherly figure to all these people: Taking care of them but at the same time, forced them to fall in line.
"I'll take care of this. For revolvers. And Arthur will teach you how to shoot a rifle. Now come with me." He said with a softer tone.
Dutch picked up a bag near the food wagon and started to put all the empty bottles he could find inside, before making his way towards the horses. Without saying a word, he fastened the bag to his saddle and got on his white horse. Harriet did the same and followed him as he left the clearing.
In a week, quite the few things had happened: John had taken Charles, Arthur and Sean on a train robbery, quite successful judging by the amount of jewels they brought back and another member joined them. A certain Micah, but Harriet wasn't sure.
"This spot should do it." Dutch announced as they reached the river after passing by a calcinated town.
Harriet got down from her horse, letting him graze on the other side of the road and carefully watched Dutch install a few bottles on a rock.
She didn't know what to do. She was just waiting, nervously playing with the hem of her sleeve like a little girl.
But when Dutch came back to her, he took a revolver from the satchel placed on his horse's back and handed it to her. She took the piece of metal in her hands, estimating the weight of it between her fingers.
"Now. I've heard that you're good with a bow, so it means your aim is good. But, with a gun you need to handle the weight and the kick, so your aim can be precise." He explained as he got closer. "So, hold it up, and aim."
Harriet nodded, her body facing the bottles. Holding the gun up, her arm seemed to shake from the heaviness of the weapon. Placing her finger on the trigger, her heart started to pound in her chest when she aimed for a bottle.
"Hold on." Dutch said as he took a few steps closer. "You're an archer, so I'm assuming you're not in this position when you shoot."
Harriet didn't say a word and turned her body; this time facing the river and turned her head toward her target.
"That's better. Shoot whenever you're ready."
Harriet held her arm up, trying to fight the weight of the gun as she pointed it at the bottles. Closing an eye, pressing the trigger, the sound of the shot echoed in her ears. But the recoil sent vibrations in her arm, spreading throughout her body and forcing her to take a step back as the bullet flew between the bottles.
"It's okay. You're thinking too much. Arthur told me that you managed to kill two men the other day."
Harriet slowly let her arm fall back against her thigh, still holding the gun before shrugging her shoulder. It wasn't the same the week before. It was necessary and the adrenaline prevented her from thinking.
"It's..." She clumsily started. "They had to die. I had to shoot."
"And you'll have to again." Dutch announced as he hooked his thumbs to his belt. "If it helps you, think about that day. Come on, aim." He ordered.
The dark-haired woman held her arm up again, took a deep breath and tried to find a good balance. Those men probably didn't deserve what happened to them. But they didn't get a choice that day.
"They're after you. They're too close for Arthur to deal with them on his own."
She pressed the trigger. The sound of breaking glass sent shivers down her spine before she armed the hammer of the gun again.
"They're closing in."
Another bottle.
"What are you waiting for? They will not spare you!"
Three more shots echoed in the gorge, along with the clatter of glass and the metallic sound of the gun. It took a few moments for Harriet to go back at a normal position as she blinked a few times to properly see the shattered bottles on the ground.
"Well…" she started. "I probably just needed a context." She said as she looked down at her feet.
She felt Dutch come closer and suddenly got even more nervous. He was way taller than her and he was… Well, the boss.
"You did good. Keep that gun, it's not the best, but it will save your life one day." He assured her as he walked past her and got on his horse.
She tightly held onto the gun with both her hands as she made her way towards her stallion.
"Put it in your satchel for now, you'll ask Arthur for a holster, he has quite the collection." The leader added with a smile.
The thought of Arthur hesitating between a heap of holster brought a smile to Harriet's face. She'd seen men collect cigarette's cards, spurs and even suspenders. But never she had seen a man with more holsters than needed.
When she got back to the camp, Dutch just nodded his head with courtesy before disappearing in his tent again as she took her new gun from her satchel and let her horse graze with the others. She quickly noticed Arthur having a conversation with John and decided to wait he was done before asking him for equipment.
"How did it go?" The green-eyed man asked as he got closer, putting on pair of gloves.
"Fine." Harriet automatically answered. "Uh, Dutch told me to ask you for a holster?" She shyly said.
It wasn't in her nature to go to someone she barely knew and ask for something. But Arthur didn't even hesitate and indicated her to follow him. They slowly walked towards his tent and she patiently waited as he opened a chest. In the middle of a pile of clothes, was indeed a lot of holsters and cartridge belt. He took a worn-out leathered gun-belt and handed it to her.
"You might have to adjust it, but it should do." He said in almost a mumble.
"Thank you." She softly said as she took the holsters from his hands. "Can you hold this?" she asked, handing him her gun.
He took it between his fingers, inspecting the double-action revolver as she tied the belt around her waist; it fell on her hips, but she didn't mind. She had to stop herself from taking a step back when Arthur extended his arm towards her. She wasn't used to have people getting too close to her anymore. But she let out the breath she was holding when she realised, he was simply placing the gun in the holster. The weight of it made her wriggle to find a good balance.
"You have a knife?" Arthur asked, and she could have sworn she saw him smile.
Was he laughing at her? It probably wasn't every day that he had to gear up a woman, who didn't have any clue of what she was doing with a gun hanging at her hips.
"No, I don't." she said with a shrug.
She carefully watched him turned around again, taking something from his chest again.
"Here. This one never fitted me." He said as he handed her another belt, much smaller this time. "You have to tie it around your thigh." He explained before taking a knife from the wagon.
She did as she was told, buckling the belt to her right thigh before Arthur placed the knife in its place.
"Here you go." He said in an approving tone. "Now, I've got to go with John. Catch you later." He informed before leaving her in the camp.
Walking around camp, she felt different. She felt that she was now truly apart of the gang, with the gun and knife hanging at her hip, she could feel the confidence running in her veins.
"You planning on staying on your ass all day, carrot top?"
Of course, there had to be a cloud on the horizon.
"Shut the hell up, Micah." Sean defended himself as he got up and walked past Pearson's wagon.
As Harriet thought the blond man was about to add another unpleasant comment, he just laughed to himself before disappearing behind Dutch's tent whereas Sean sat again against a barrel. She always hated bullies. Especially the ones like Micah: Not doing shit except when things needed to get violent and harassing the younger ones.
"Hi." She started as Sean took a knife from its sheath and began to sharpen it.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked with a cocky grin on his face.
"Do you want to go hunting with me?" Harriet offered on a whim.
She never really knew how to comfort someone, and even if Sean was the kind to laugh at any provocation, she could see that he was upset.
"I know it's not as exciting as what the boys can offer but… It's something and it will keep you away from Micah for a while."
The young man practically jumped from his seated position as a wide smile appeared on his lips.
"Sure! Don't be too disappointed but this time, I'll take my own horse!" He joked in his thick accent.
Harriet couldn't help the roll of her eyes as they made their way to the horses. Hunting it is.