Dutch had been warned time and time again by his mother to fear gold sickness.
Like many boys his age he never listened.
"Gold taints everything," she had whispered to him. The parting words of a dying woman. He patted her hand and signaled for the priest.
For many years he spent his time seeking his fortune. From robberies to schemes to plans executed meticulously. He always sought the next bigger and brighter things. Sometimes in the night his mother's parting words press his mind. Even from the beyond he can feel her skeletal hand grasping his, a wild look in her eyes.
Gold taints everything
It wasn't until later.
Later after the fire. After the crumbling of the only people he called family. Of the loss of his son. Of his partner. Did he realize that his mother had been right.
Gold taints everything and everyone it touches.