Proving Micah Wrong
Since Micah had retrieved his guns, he seemed to be in a much better mood. Which of course meant that he was being an obnoxious, self-righteous pain in the ass again, and Arthur was starting to wonder if the money was worth having Micah back to his old self. Well, mostly his old self anyway. He still loved to irritate people, but he wasn't quite as callous or mean-spirited as he once was. To Arthur, however, that hardly meant he was turning over a new leaf. All it meant was he was just a bit less of an asshole than he used to be, for whatever reason. Arthur chalked it up to him just being in a good mood. Since the gang rescued Sean from captivity as well, he couldn't help but notice he had been talking with Micah quite a bit. Arthur couldn't but wonder why, and also worry for the young boy. They didn't exactly seem like natural friends, although Arthur supposed he had seen odder, and he had seen the two laughing together on more than one occasion. Then again, Sean was easily amused, and Micah enjoyed making jokes at the expense of others. He had a feeling, however, that they were planning a job together of some sort. The last thing Arthur wanted was Micah getting Sean killed over some crazy stunt, and he sure as hell didn't trust Micah to care if anything happened to him. Eventually, he felt the need to confront Micah about it before it went any further.
"Micah," Arthur said, approaching the outlaw as he was sharpening his knife at the table.
"Well, hello dear friend," Micah said, only glancing at Arthur for part of a second before turning his attention back to the knife. "Whatever can I do for you?"
"What's going on with you and Sean, Micah? You putting ideas in his head?"
"And what are you, his mother?" Micah asked, turning to Arthur fully now, a bothered expression on his face. "Do you hate me so much that you won't even let me make any friends?"
"You're not his friend. You and I both know you don't give a damn about that boy, so don't go getting him killed, or you'll have me to deal with."
"That's where you're wrong, Arthur. I like the boy, I do. He's got a lotta heart, and he doesn't complain every five seconds like you do. His aim could use work, though."
"I know you're planning somethin' with him. I'm warning you, Micah. Anything happens to Sean, it's on you."
"Oh for fuck's sake, why does everything gotta be on me?" Micah asks, rising from his seat and staring Arthur down. "He's a grown man, well mostly. He can make his own damn choices. I'm not forcing him to do anything. If you're so damn worried, why don't you come along? As long as you promise not to whine the whole time. We could use another gun."
This gave Arthur pause for thought. The gang could always use more money, and this way he could keep an eye on Micah and Sean both.
"What kinda job is it?"
"Homestead," Micah said with a devious grin. "Bunch of O'Driscoll boys sitting on a score they took from a stagecoach a few days back. I overheard a bunch of the fool's blabbin' about it at the saloon, said they got it stashed at an old ranch north of Valentine. Already scouted it, all's left to do is rob the livin' daylights out of the damn fools."
"Why are they waitin' so long to divide it up?"
"Hell if I know, I didn't stop to ask them. Maybe Colm wants a taste. Doesn't really matter, does it?"
"No, I suppose not," Arthur replied, "How much we talkin'?"
"Not sure, but if it was enough to get the O'Driscoll's so excited, I figure it's gotta be a pretty good take. We're leavin' in a few hours. You in or out?"
"In on what?" came a sudden, feminine voice from nearby.
Micah and Arthur turned to see the mischievous Mary Beth approach, an intrigued look on her young, pretty face.
"Nothin' you need to concern yourself with," Micah snapped, dismissing Mary Beth's interest. "The last thing we need is a girl distractin' us."
Mary-Beth made a sour face, "Why do you always have to be so awful, Micah? You never give us a chance. I'm bored to death here, and I can help, I know I can! Tell him, Arthur!" Mary-Beth said, appealing to her friend.
"It's true, Micah," Arthur nodded, "She's a distraction alright, and she's a damn good one. Nothing gets men to lower their guard down than a pretty face like hers."
"If we sent this girl in there alone, those O'Driscoll boys will rob her, rape her, then probably kill her. They don't go no sympathy for innocents like this outfit does, Morgan. You saw what they did to old Mister Adler, didn't you?"
"They'll never even get that close. I've done this before, Micah. I'm not some defenseless little girl, I can shoot if I need to!"
"You can shoot? I bet you couldn't hit a tree in a forest," Micah said back, only causing Mary Beth's angry frown to intensify.
"Enough, Micah," Arthur butted in, defusing the situation. "We should at least talk to Sean, see what he thinks."
"Talk to me about what?" came the Irish man's voice, hearing his name from around the corner.
"Oh Christ," Micah sighed, realizing this had quickly turned into a group meeting.
"Micah asked me to come along on this job you got going with Micah," Arthur explained, then gesturing to female to his side. "Mary-Beth here thinks she could help, too."
"Well of course she can," Sean agreed with a smile, "No one puts on a false friendly face like Mary here, other than meself of course."
"Fine! Fine! The girl can come!" Micah finally conceded, rising from his seat to point a finger in Mary-Beth's direction. "But you better not be a burden girl. I got no tolerance for dead weight, male or female."
"Whatever you say Micah," Mary-Beth said, glaring right back. "Whatever you say."
The four riders headed North past Valentine, following Micah to the O'Driscoll homestead in the woods. Micah didn't doubt that there'd be plenty enough for all four of them, he would just rather do things the simple way with four strong gunmen, rather than all these diversion tactics involving a woman who's probably never killed a man in her life. That said, the plan was pretty simple. Arthur, Sean, and Micah would hide in the tree line, while Mary-Beth approached the homestead, playing up the "lost little girl" act, getting as many O'Driscolls out in the open as possible. When they got too close to Mary-Beth, she'd duck out of the way, and that's when the shooting would start. Micah had never truly seen Mary-Beth in action before, so he just hoped she could keep her head, literally as well as metaphorically.
"Alright, we're comin' up on it now!" Micah announced, slowing down at the side of the path. "Let's hitch the horses over here, best not to draw attention to ourselves."
Now on foot, the four made their way down the path, being careful not to make too much noise. When the homestead was within sight, the three men scurried off the path and into the trees, while Mary-Beth remained, taking a very deep breath.
"Alright, I see two of em' outside, at the moment," Sean said as he peered at the house, before turning to his female companion. "Alright Mary-Beth, work your magic," he smirked encouragingly.
"Yes, let's see if you're as good as you say you are," Micah replied, much less confident.
Mary-Beth ignored Micah, putting on her best sad, innocent face, before making her way into the open. She had fooled folks much smarter than these O'Driscolls, she just had to make sure she didn't herself shot in the crossfire.
"Hello? Is anybody home? Hello?" she called out, quickly getting the attention of the two thugs.
"What the hell?" came one of their voices, directing his attention to the approaching Mary-Beth. "Well, look at what we got here, Pete," he said to his friend as he laid eyes on the beautiful siren.
The O'Driscoll thug grinned as he stepped out into the open, the man he called Pete following close behind. Now that she was closer, Mary-Beth could clearly see three other gang members outside as well, although further away. They were now looking in her direction as well.
"What can I do for you, missy?" the thug asked with false friendliness, trying not to chase her away.
"Oh mister, I'm so glad I found you. You see, I got separated from my family, and my horse just up and died on me, and I haven't got any food or nothin'!"
"Oh, well isn't that just a damn shame? I'm dreadful sorry," the thug lied, looking back to see the other O'Driscolls were approaching to see what all the fuss was about. "Why don't you come on inside? We got plenty of food. Why don't ya come on inside, put some food in your belly?"
"Well, that's very kind of you," Mary-Beth smiled coyly.
The beauty of this act was that the thug thought he was reeling her in, while in reality he was the one being deceived. However, Mary-Beth didn't want to get too close to him, for she could see right through his poor attempt at a ruse, and knew right away what he really planned to do with her. She still needed to kill more time, for the last three O'Driscolls weren't out in the open quite yet. Mary-Beth took a step towards the house, then pretended to trip, collapsing to the ground.
"Ow, gosh that hurts! I been walkin' for so long, I think I finally pulled somethin'! If you could just help me inside," Mary-Beth said, trying to sound as helpless as she could.
"For Chrisssakes, alright, I'm comin'," the thug sighed, making his way towards Mary-Beth. "You better be as tight as you are pretty ya stupid strumpet," the thug muttered to himself, but foolishly loud enough for Mary Beth to hear. She sure wouldn't feel bad getting this scum killed, that was for sure.
When the thug's friends had gotten to what Mary-Beth hoped was close enough, she looked to the thug approaching her with a smug grin. "Stupid strumpet, am I? Looks like I'm smart enough to fool you, you dumb O'Driscoll!" she said, suddenly springing to her feet and dashing out of the line of fire.
"What? Oh shite!" the O'Driscoll boy's realization came too late, as the Arthur, Micah, and Sean opened fire, tearing the foolish man apart with a volley of bullets.
Caught off their guard, the remaining four gang members outside were stuck in the open without any cover to speak of.
"It's a trap! It's the Van Der Li—," was all one of them was able to get out, before he was promptly shot in the face, courtesy of Micah Bell.
The remaining three O'Driscolls could only fire blindly into the trees, unable to see their assailants as they were picked off. An all-out shoot-out had erupted, as the remaining O'Driscolls on the property had emerged from the buildings to defend their stash. Of the four who were caught off guard, only one remained alive, and quickly turned away, desperately fleeing the in the direction of the homestead. Sean Macguire stepped out from the trees, unleashing both barrels of his shotgun on the retreating O'Driscoll. Mary-Beth grimaced a bit at the amount of blood that erupted from his body as he was shot in the back, collapsing to the ground with a scream of agony. She pulled out her pistol just in case, but she mostly tried to remain out of sight. She was no gunfighter. She had done her part.
The men moved up, advancing on the homestead as the more cowardly O'Driscolls had already begun to flee into the woods. Most O'Driscoll gunmen were just worthless thugs that could barely shoot straight, and were no match for exceptional, experienced gunfighters such as Arthur Morgan and Micah Bell, although the young Sean MacGuire was certainly holding his own. Mary-Beth followed, trying to keep up and contain herself as she hugged the barn wall. Micah Bell joined her at her side, taking cover to reload his revolvers.
"Excitin' enough for you?" he asked with a snarky grin, quickly glancing to her.
"Well, I have to admit, this is more action than I'm used to," Mary-Beth confessed over the gunfire, trying to stop herself from panicking. "The distraction worked pretty well, don't ya think? I told you I could do it, Micah."
"Big fuckin' deal, you did what you said you were gonna do," Micah snapped, still not impressed. "Just keep your pretty little head down, we'll take it from here."
Micah turned around the corner, only to get bushwhacked by an O'Driscoll who had been waiting on the other side. He knocked Micah to the ground with a hard strike to the head with the butt of his rifle, now aiming down at rattled blond outlaw, both of his revolvers out of reach.
"I got you now, ya filthy Van Der Linde dog!"
"Stop!" came Mary-Beth's high, nervous voice.
The thug turned to see the young woman holding her holding her pistol with both hands, shaking like a leaf on a tree. She seemed hesitant to pull the trigger, and had foolishly warned the rival gang member first. She had a terrified, but exhilarated look in her still innocent eyes. Micah was regaining consciousness, looking up to see the scene before him. The O'Driscoll had his rifle pointed at his skull, and unless Arthur or Sean had noticed this, his only hope was Mary-Beth Gaskill. He could try to make a dash for one of his guns, but ten to one odds said that would end with him getting shot almost instantly.
"Put down the gun, or I'll shoot you. I swear I will."
The O'Driscoll answered with a disbelieving stare, then a mocking laugh.
"You look like you've never shot a man in your life, girlie," the outlaw correctly assumed. He didn't think she could do it, and frankly, neither did Micah. "You wait your turn bitch, I'll get to you soon enough."
The O'Driscoll turned his eyes back to Micah Bell, fully intending to shoot him dead. For a second, Micah really thought this was how he died. He always knew he'd die in a gunfight, like his father and grandfather before him, but getting shot in the face after getting knocked clean out by a lowly, drunk O'Driscoll was hardly the death he had hoped for. Certainly not something he could brag about once he got to Hell.
"Fuck you," Micah spat defiantly, "You O'Driscoll piece of—."
Micah actually flinched when the gunshot came, but mostly out of surprise that he wasn't the one to get shot. Blood spurted from the stunned thug's neck as he slid down the wall, slowly dying. Mary-Beth, looking just as shocked as both of them, had found her guts at the last second. She lowered her pistol, gaping disbelievingly at the man she had fatally shot.
"Oh my God," she said with a gasp, feeling sick to her stomach. "Are you alright?" she asked, looking to Micah.
"Oh sure, fine and dandy," Micah said, retrieving both of his revolvers. "I can't tell what's more humiliating, getting killed by him, or saved by you."
"Excuse me? I just saved your life, Micah Bell. I just . . . God, I just killed a man."
Micah wasn't sure how to respond. She certainly had saved his life, despite the fact she was mostly disdainful of him. Now she looked like she was about to faint, meanwhile there was still a gunfight going on. If it wasn't obvious she had never shot someone before, it was now.
"Well, thanks," Micah forced himself to say, looking down to the O'Driscoll, who had died from blood loss by now. "I gotta get back out there," he said, for the fight wasn't finished.
"I think I'll stay right here," Mary-Beth said, still trying to get a hold of herself.
Micah reached into his coat, taking out a flask of whiskey. He walked right up to her, shoving it into Mary-Beth's hands.
"Here, that'll help with the nerves," he said, knowing from his own experience. He owed her now, as much as he hated to admit it.
Mary-Beth looked a little shocked at the gesture, but was happy to take the drink. "Thank you, Micah," she said, not believing the words were coming out of her mouth.
"Don't you thank me, just don't tell no one about this," Micah made clear, outstretching a finger in her direction. "I mean it, Mary-Beth. Don't tell a soul."
"Fine, whatever you say," Mary-Beth agreed. "Just go kill the rest of those degenerates."
"Oh, with pleasure," Micah replied, leaving her now to rejoin the gunfight.
Mary-Beth wasted no time in downing some of Micah's whiskey, welcoming the calming feeling that followed. She sank down the barn wall, scooting herself away from the man she had killed. She sighed in exhaustion as the last few O'Driscolls were picked off or run off. She took another swig of the whiskey, which she had to admit was a lot of help. Maybe after this, Micah would come to appreciate her and the rest of the girls more. She could only hope. He had swallowed his pride enough to thank her, even going so far as to help her cope with her first killing, which she most certainly did not expect. Mary-Beth took a deep breath, trying to relax. The take for this job better have been gone, whatever it was.
"What a world."