Chapter 3

"Come on, Arthur!"

"No way, Hosea!"

"It's the simplest routine, I swear it."

"I ain't dressin' up again. Make Dutch do it!"

"Dutch has his own part to play."

Arthur kept his back to them, arms folded tight, a hard scowl on his face. He could hear Dutch stifling a chuckle, knew he had that shit-eating grin on his face as he sat with his legs propped up on the table.

"You're no help, Dutch," Hosea said. He sighed in exasperation, waving Arthur off and turning around with his hands on his hips.

Dutch chuckled. "I'm sorry. I think you traumatized poor Arthur last time, Hosea."

Hosea faced them after Arthur turned around. "So, the last charade got a little out of hand. It wasn't that bad. I mean…all things considered."

"A LITTLE?" Arthur countered. "I had to wear a goddamn dress to get outta there! That or go stark naked. I regret not goin' naked."

Dutch flicked ash from his cigar. "For what it's worth, Arthur. It was a very nice dress."

"Shut up, Dutch."

His mentor choked on smoke from his cigar as he laughed. A cough spluttered between his snickers as he stood and waved the smoke away, leaving for his tent.

Hosea held up his hands. "No dresses, I swear. Just a nicer set of clothes and a simple character script to follow."

Arthur groaned. "Can't ya jus' leave me to the shootin'?"

Hosea shook his head. "No, no shooting. These people need a different kind of lesson, Arthur. You heard me earlier. They started the fire in Andell. They're running competition out of Hickory. They're making plans to get tracks built this way. People are livin' poorly 'round here because of them. The sheriff and mayor are in cahoots with 'em. And they have a lot of money. This would be the biggest score we've done in a while. But I need you to help us do it right."

Arthur groaned. "Fiiiiine, okay."

Hosea beamed, patting Arthur's arm. "That's my boy! This will be a good one. I can feel it."

"What 'bout them guns and money at the gunsmith? Dutch wants 'em."

"I'm still trying to talk him out of that. We can't do both. It's too dangerous. My plan will get us more money…put us in a position where we can teach this family a lesson. But you know Dutch. Once he wants something, it's hard to talk him out of it."

Arthur snorted. "Yeah, think yer the only one with the grit to handle that job."

"You better learn. One day I won't be around."

Arthur gave him a look. "Whatcha talkin' 'bout? You'll probably outlive us all, Hosea. Besides, you 'n Dutch…well, yer like a package. Can't see havin' only one of ya 'round. Wouldn't be…right. I've never been one to believe in fate 'n all that, but when I listen to the stories 'bout how ya'll met, what you've gone through together and where we are now, I can't help but to believe in it."

Hosea's smile was genuine, warm as he nodded. "Bessie says I'm the Yin to his Yang."

Arthur scrunched his eyebrows as they saw Dutch emerge from his tent rolling his shoulders. "The hell's that s'pose to mean?"

"The light to his darkness."

"So…did Hosea manage to coax you into our little burlesque?" Dutch asked.

Arthur sighed. "I reckon so. I'd rather be shot at."

"You'll do fine." Dutch's tone was playful but affectionate. "We're gonna rob these bastards of all their money and teach 'em a lesson. After that, we'll be heading west for a while."

"Bout damn time."

Hosea squeezed his arm, his eyes shining with more affection and respect than Arthur's blood father had ever showed him his whole life. "Get some rest, son. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Sure."

Arthur spent the morning hours with Bessie and Susan testing distractions on certain stores in town, most notably the gunsmith, which held quite a bit of money and high-end guns belonging to the Warrens. Although Hosea was able to talk Dutch out of the heist to instead go after the Warrens at their homestead, Dutch still wanted a "backup" job, in case something went wrong.

Arthur wasn't fooled. Dutch just wanted the guns, plain and simple. He didn't blame his father-figure though. He felt it would be less of a risk with the gun store. And even though they had plenty of weapons between them, they did need better ones.

By late afternoon, Arthur cleaned himself up and dressed according to Hosea's directions. He put on his best pants and boots, a white long-sleeved button up shirt with a gray vest and a matching jacket. He put on a trilby hat, despite preferring his usual cowboy hat.

The women remained at camp and Arthur rode back into Hickory to meet Dutch and Hosea at the saloon. He saw their horses hitched out front, but when he entered the crowded bar, he didn't see them anywhere.

He walked over to the bartender in the back, his eyes scanning the main room and all the faces for his mentors. "S'cuse me, Mister. I'm lookin' fer a couple of friends 'o mine. One's a tall, dark-haired feller, dressed proper. And an older gentleman with blond hair. Supposed to be havin' drinks with a Mister Warren?"

The bartender nodded as he wiped a glass with a cloth. "Yessir. They went upstairs to the lounge. Go right on up, they're waitin' on ya."

"Much obliged."

Arthur took the stairs, the wood creaking below his feet as he went up to the second floor. It wasn't long before he heard some guffaws echoing down his way as he turned the corner into the lounge. He saw Dutch and Hosea on one sofa and three gentlemen across from them on another. Each of them had drinks on the table in the center.

Hosea's arms were animated, face a little red, as he told some random funny story that Arthur had heard a million times. Dutch caught sight of Arthur first and waved him over.

"And I said to the feller, don't you think the misses will be missin' you? And he says 'of course, she's been missin' me for a whole goddamn year'!"

The men laughed again. Arthur smiled. Hosea had them reeled in good already. Dutch stood, offering Arthur a seat between him and Hosea.

"There he is! Come have a seat lad. Mr. Warren, this is Mr. Fenton's nephew, Benjamin."

Arthur nodded, reaching across to shake the middle man's hand. He was an older gentleman with graying brown hair, glasses and a trimmed beard and mustache. He wore a blue suit. With him were younger men, one looking to be around Arthur's age of early twenties, the other a bit older.

"Gentlemen," Arthur greeted.

"Excuse my nephew's tardiness, he was never good with time," Hosea said, then turned to Arthur after he sat. "Benjamin, this is Mr. Randy Warren and his sons Troy and Lester."

By the introduction, the older one was Troy. Arthur logged it away.

The older man smiled, waving them off as he took a drink out of his whiskey glass. "It's not a problem, my friend. I am just pleased you were able to take some time out of your busy schedules passing through my humble town to talk with me. I only wish the best for Hickory."

"You know," Dutch said, puffing on a cigar. "It was such a shame to hear about Andell. But this town…I like it better. I know why you wish the tracks to be built out this way. The growth and grandeurs it could see!"

Mr. Warren nodded, a sleazy grin forming on his thin lips. "Exactly. So much potential here, Mr. Smith. I just haven't had much luck convincing your friends."

"Well sure it's a little out of the way, but they just haven't seen it," Hosea added. "The land, the people here. It's very promising. I know our friends like to get caught up in their contracts and regulations, but I'm thinking…Archibald and I could do a little convincing."

"Oh, Samuel," Dutch chuckled, flicking ash away. "Not just a little…I'll damn well write the new railroad contract myself if I have to!"

"Shall we take a walk around town? I have an area that could make a nice station you should see," Mr. Warren suggested.

Dutch stamped his cigar out and stood, prompting Arthur and Hosea to follow his lead. "Of course, my friend. Lead the way."

The Warren patriarch ushered his sons ahead and they took the stairs down to the first floor of the saloon. Mr. Warren looked Arthur over as they followed Troy and Lester.

"So, Benjamin, do you travel with your uncle often?" he asked.

Arthur nodded, glancing at Hosea. "Sure, quite often, sir. Doin' some apprenticeship under him. He's good at makin' money and lots of it."

Mr. Warren grinned. "Of course, of course. Well, you know what they say. Money makes the world go 'round."

"That it does!" Hosea agreed.

Once outside the saloon, Mr. Warren and his sons guided Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea through town. Mr. Warren pointed out each business and a few important people. He told a brief history of Hickory and how his family made their wealth.

Arthur tried to stay focused. The dull talk bored him, but he had a part to play.

They went to the southwest side of town, near the post office. Here, Mr. Warren pointed out the area where the tracks could come in from Chicago, and the station they could build. Hosea played his part, using his steps to measure out the area while Mr. Warren and Dutch discussed the layout of the station. Troy and Lester looked bored to the side, watching as townsfolk meandered nearby.

"Well, what d'ya think, Mr. Fenton?" Dutch asked as Hosea returned to them.

"It's promising. Not much leveling needed. It's a bit big of a station than what they would like for a small town, but…I'm sure we could come up with an agreement."

"I am, of course, willing to adjust my offer to make it work. I have plenty of money. All I need is a contract and some hard-working men to get it done. We can discuss it over dinner, perhaps? How about you gentlemen come to my home for dinner tomorrow before you return to Chicago? You said you had your wives with you, yes? They can come too."

"Oh, I'm not so sure-"

"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Smith. I promise, you won't regret it."

The sly grin on Dutch's face told Arthur everything. He and Hosea had Mr. Warren where they wanted him.

"Sure, friend. We'll tell our dear wives. Tomorrow it is then."

He shook Mr. Warren's hand. The patriarch also shook Hosea's and Arthur's hands, grinning.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I look forward to discussing the future of Hickory with you tomorrow. Have a good evening."

They watched as Mr. Warren and his sons left. Soon, Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea headed back towards the saloon to fetch their horses.

"Ain't he the greediest son of a bitch you ever met, Hosea?" Dutch asked.

"He's up there. He acts all nice, but he sure looks down on most folks. He doesn't care about all the lives he's ruined from destroying Andell and making it look like an accident. And let's not forget all the folks he ran out of business here in his own town just to get more power."

They mounted up and rode for camp. Arthur was ready to get out of fancy clothes and go back to being comfortable.

"So, what kind of lesson we givin' this feller anyway?"

"While we are robbing him tomorrow, I know exactly where to find all of his blackmail letters and the proof that he was behind the burning of Andell. We'll turn it into the next town over and be gone," Hosea answered.

"What kinda lesson is that? We've never done things that way."

Dutch stayed quiet ahead of them on the path as their horses trotted farther and farther from Hickory. Arthur looked to Hosea, skeptical of the way he chose to handle this.

Hosea took off his hat to rub his head, sighing. "I know it's not something we usually do, but trust me. It's the only tasteful way to do it. It will destroy the Warren family without anyone getting killed. Dutch ain't a fan of it either, but any other way we risk getting ourselves or other people killed."

Arthur frowned. "If you say so, Hosea."

Once they arrived in camp, it was starting to get late. Arthur changed his clothes and jumped back on his horse to go out hunting. He spotted Dutch reading a book while Hosea and Bessie played dominoes. Susan knitted nearby. There was plans for them all to play poker and drink tonight, and so Arthur was eager to get the hunting done to enjoy it.

He rode his horse down by the river on the east side of Hickory where he remembered seeing some wild turkey. It was too late to cut up a deer, and fishing would take too long. So, it was either turkey or more rabbits.

Once near the river, he spotted a small flock. Holding up his rifle, he lined one up and shot it dead. He trailed his scope to another as it ran for the brush and shot it down as well. He rode his horse over to the area and jumped off. He tied both turkeys to the saddle of his horse.

As he went to mount up, he heard voices. There was splashing and yelling coming from the river. Arthur left his horse to go check it out. He slung his rifle over his shoulder but kept his hand ready on his revolver.

He came out of the trees, the river not far from him. The water glinted off a red and orange sky as the sun dipped below the horizon. Two men were dunking something in and out of the water, their voices loud and angry.

A boy came up from the water, gasping for air only to be shoved down again.

"This is what ya get for stealin' from us, you little tramp!" One man yelled, the water going up to his knees.

Arthur couldn't believe it at first. It was the boy that stole his hat, the one that Dutch let go with a bag of stolen food. John Marston. These men…they were drowning him.

"Hey!"

Their heads snapped around, and they stood up quick. The boy came up for air, coughing and drenched.

"What the hell you doin'? Let the kid go!" Arthur snapped.

"Stay outta this, mister. This doesn't concern you."

"It sure as hell does concern me when you're drownin' a goddamn little boy! Get away from him."

"We're teachin' him a lesson for stealin'. You need a lesson too, boy?"

Arthur lumbered right over to them, fists clenched. Arthur may have been younger, but he towered over the men.

"I'm ready fellas. I betchu I hit a whole lot harder, so ya better make yer swings count."

The two men came out of the water and at him. Arthur dodged the first swing, nailing the first man with a hard punch to the stomach. He yelped, bending in pain. He felt a hit to the face from the other, but it hardly fazed him. Arthur grabbed the man, clipping him several times in the face before kicking him away to miss a throw from the second fella.

He was backhanded, a sting radiating across his face. Arthur grabbed the man's hand, breaking several fingers and kicking him in the thigh. The man stumbled with a cry, and Arthur seized him. He plunged him into the river, water splashing onto Arthur's face. The second man jumped on his back as he held his friend under.

Arthur swung his head back, busting the fella's face. He let go of his submerged opponent to grab his friend once more, bashing his fist several times into the rib cage and tossing him onto the ground.

The men moaned in pain. The soaked one ran first. His friend struggled to get to his feet before he also ran off.

"I better not see yer goddamn faces 'round here again!" Arthur hollered.

He turned to John. The boy was now out of the water, drenched and shaking. He held himself, staring wide-eyed at the water.

"You okay, boy?"

His head swung around, eyes still wide and Arthur could tell he was terrified. "W-What?"

"I said are you okay?"

"They…almost drowned me."

"It's alright. They're gone now."

John coughed, shivering. His body sat in mud, water dripping off in streams from dark locks, and too scared and exhausted to move.

Arthur scratched his head, looking around. He felt for the boy. Dutch was right. He didn't have anyone. And whether he stole his hat or not, Arthur wasn't about to damn him to such a fate. He was just a kid.

"Come on, let's go."

"Go? G-Go w-where?"

"You need a safe place to rest. You need to get warm and dry and fed. Come on, git'up."

"I thought…you hated me."

"I dislike you. It's different. But I ain't 'bout to leave ya here after that. Now come on."

Arthur whistled for his horse. He heard the gelding's nicker, and he came out of the trees to canter over to them. Arthur patted the horse's neck, watching as John slowly rose to his feet. He helped the shivering boy up onto his horse and them mounted himself.

Arthur kicked his horse into a gallop. "Yaw!"

John clenched fingers on Arthur's shirt to hold on. "W-Where ya t-takin' me?"

"Back to my camp. I reckon the women would like havin' a kid to take care of for a bit. The man you kicked, and the man that let you go with the food, well, they're there too."

"Oh."

"You ever stay outta trouble, boy? Every time I've met you, you're causin' a ruckus."

"I'm…just tryin' to survive, mister."

"Call me Arthur."

"T-Thank…you."

Arthur looked down at him, the boy was completely up against him as he shook and held on tight. It was a sad sight. Arthur sighed, not liking that he felt pity for the boy.

When they returned to camp, Arthur got off his horse first and hitched him. He held his arms out for the boy. Shaky and weak, John took his hands to be helped down. Soon Dutch, Hosea, Susan, and Bessie came around, having noticed the newcomer on Arthur's horse.

"Miss Grimshaw, Mrs. Matthews, could you please take care of him? He's been through a lot."

Bessie nodded, holding her hand out with a caring smile. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you dry and warm."

John hesitantly took her hand and she led him away with Susan.

"What the hell happened?" Dutch asked.

"Some lowlifes tried to drown the kid for stealin'," Arthur answered. "Bad business…He's lucky I was nearby."

"These men…they still with us?" Hosea asked, his eyes sharp as he watched his wife draped a blanket over John.

"Yeah, but they're hurtin' bad. I think they'll think twice next time."

Dutch patted Arthur's back, also scowling. "That's my boy. Who does that to a child? I do not understand people sometimes."

"Me neither," Hosea said, shaking his head. "Good job, Arthur. Come on, you and me can get these turkeys ready to cook. That boy needs a good meal."

Arthur nodded. "Sure."

"I'll get the fire started," Dutch said.

Arthur and Hosea prepped the turkeys and cooked them over the fire. John was stripped of his clothes to dry and was wrapped in a thick blanket near the fire. He was no longer shaking, but looked shy and uncomfortable. Arthur wasn't sure if it was the same boy he met back in Hickory at first. His demeanor was completely different.

Bessie handed John a mug of hot tea to drink. When they finally sat down around the campfire to eat, John scarfed his plate down like a starving animal. Bessie and Susan exchanged concerned looks. Miss Grimshaw got up and made him another plate. John eagerly ate that plate clean also.

Arthur took a drink of coffee, looking over at his father-figures. Hosea studied the boy quietly while he ate. Dutch kept a close eye on John, thinking deeply. It wasn't a distrustful look, but a curious one. Arthur wondered if Dutch was thinking back to the time he and Hosea found him in a similar manner.

"John, correct?" Dutch asked.

After scarfing down a third plate, he gulped the rest of his tea. "Yes, sir."

"What's your story, John?"

The boy looked anxiously between them. "Why?"

"We just want to get to know you, son. We mean you no harm," Hosea reassured.

John lowered his eyes to the campfire, pulling the blanket over his head so that only his face peeked out. "Well I…I came from a bigger city. Was in an orphanage for a while after my Pa died. I ran away to try 'n live on my own. I…I killed a man, b-but he started it! He attacked me, I was just defendin' myself. I got scared and hid on a wagon til I got here. Been tryin' to make it on my own here since."

"And how long has that been?" Hosea asked.

John shrugged, frowning. "I-I don't know. A long time it feels like."

Arthur closed his eyes, feeling a pain in his chest. He was reminded of his own rough beginnings. He felt sorry for the boy. He understood now. John's terrible demeanor was just a defense mechanism, much like his own unruliness when Dutch and Hosea first found him. He could see a scared, lonely little boy before him now, huddled under a blanket after nearly drowning.

"I ain't never meant to harm no one. I'm just tryin' to survive."

Dutch stepped over to the boy, kneeling before him. He slipped the blanket from off the top of his head, the boy looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry for what you've had to endure, son. But you are safe here. We won't let anyone harm you. You don't have to starve while you are here. Are you still hungry?"

John sheepishly nodded.

"Miss Grimshaw, could you get this fine young lad another plate?"

"Of course, Dutch."

Dutch rubbed John's head, inciting the first smile they had seen on the boy. "Relax, son. You're one of us."

John took the fourth helping from Susan and shoveled it without any manners. Dutch chuckled. Arthur shook his head, picking at his plate. Bessie and Hosea exchanged loving looks, holding hands.

Once night fell and they were fed and the chores were done, Arthur lit a cigarette and found Dutch at the table outside his tent. He puffed on a pipe, feet propped up on the table and eyes to the stars while deep in thought. Arthur could hear Hosea joking with Susan and Bessie near the campfire. The last time Arthur saw John was at the fire as well, but when he looked, he didn't see the boy.

"Whatcha thinkin', Dutch?"

"Dreaming, Arthur," Dutch said. "Dreaming of the west. I cannot wait to head that way."

"Me neither."

"We are going to make our own future, Arthur. No civilization, no matter how powerful or corrupt, will tame us."

"If only we could fight it. Y'know…stop it."

"Oh, we could, son. If we had enough people who believe just as we do. Stand for what we do. Until then, we will just have to make do fighting evil in our own way."

"Like the Warrens?"

"Yes, like the Warrens. Although, I desire a bit more of an edge to their lesson, Hosea's way is safer for us…but far from fulfilling."

"If you say so, Dutch."

"You wanted the guns as well, didn't you?"

Arthur flicked his cigarette, blowing smoke as he sat down across from Dutch. "I did at first, yeah. But if Hosea says the way we're doin' this now is better then I believe him. We can always get more guns, Dutch."

"Sure," Dutch said, his foot tapping impatiently for a moment. "It's a shame we do not have the manpower yet to do both. I have a good feeling on what's in there."

"Are you implyin' we do that instead of Hosea's way?" Arthur asked.

Dutch glared at him, smoke billowing from his lips. "Why would you say that?"

Arthur tensed, unsure what he had said to upset Dutch. "No reason. I didn't mean nothin' by it."

He looked away, but heard Dutch heave a sigh. "Sorry, son. I-I'm just a little…worried about tomorrow, is all. We are still putting ourselves in a dangerous position. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Arthur relaxed, nodding. "Sure, I understand. I'll do my best."

"I know you will. There's no one I trust more than you and Hosea. The three of us? Well, we'll make history together. We'll fight for what we believe in, fight for a bright future. Together. We are family."

Dutch rubbed his temple as he slid his feet off the table and stood. He came around the table, putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Goodnight, son."

"G'night, Dutch."

Arthur got up as Dutch disappeared into his tent. He yawned, feeling exhaustion come over him also. Susan's tent was closed and he could see Hosea and Bessie sitting by the fire. Hosea pointed up at the stars but he couldn't hear what they were saying.

Arthur headed for his tent. He popped his neck and rolled his shoulders, feeling the aches of the day.

"Rah!"

Arthur leapt out of his skin as the boy jumped out at him from behind a barrel. "Jesus Christ, boy! What the hell was that for?!"

John laughed, the blanket still wrapped around him. "Scared you!"

"You didn't scare me. You startled me. There's a difference."

Arthur pushed past him. He felt John following him. "Whaddya want, kid?"

"I was listenin' to you talk with Mr. Dutch. He's not much older than you, but he calls you son a lot."

Arthur rounded on him. "You eavesdropped?!"

"Yeah, so? It's not like I'm gonna go tell anyone."

Arthur sighed, waving him off and ambling over to his tent. He glared at John when he was followed.

"So, why does he call you son?"

Arthur impatiently rubbed his eye, sharply inhaling. "It's 'cause he found me, similar like you, and raised me. Him and Hosea."

"What do ya guys do? Are you bad guys? Do you kill people? What lesson're you givin' the Warrens?"

Arthur groaned. "No, I mean, kinda…I mean…listen, boy. We rob bad people, teach 'em lessons if we have to. We don't kill unless we have to."

"So, you're gonna rob the Warrens and teach 'em a lesson for bein' so mean?"

"Maybe."

"Why does Mr. Dutch want the guns from the gun store?"

"I don't know, kid."

John looked curiously back towards Dutch's tent, thinking. Arthur pushed him away from his tent.

"Hosea and Bessie got you yer own place to sleep. Now git along."

John gave him a mild glare. There it was. That's the face of the boy that took his hat. John kicked the dirt and hobbled over to his pallet that was near the fire.

Arthur shook his head with sigh, crawling into his tent. He kicked off his boots and laid down on his own pallet. He turned about until he got comfortable and fell asleep.

He awoke to being hot a couple hours later. Blinking sleep from his eyes, the dying campfire cast a dull light into his tent. He saw John huddled up against him asleep.

"Goddamn it," Arthur hissed under his breath.

He was about to shove the boy off of him, but then stopped himself. John looked…content. He looked innocent right then and there as he slept peacefully. Scowling, Arthur grumbled and gave up, planting his head back on his makeshift pillow to go back to sleep.

A/N: Almost done with this short multi-fic now. I'm working on another RDR2 fic as well, I hope to upload after Christmas. We will see! ^^' We got to see a little bonding with Arthur and John, d'awww. Anyways, hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, and I hope everyone has a HAPPY HOLIDAY!