Dead. Sean was dead. Arthur felt horror-stricken tears choke at his throat as Bill rode off with the boy's body. Stupid, Cocky, good, Sean. The boy Arthur considered to be an annoying little brother now lay dead with a gaping wound through his skull between his eyes. He could see out of it as he'd put his body on the back of Bill's horse.
Dead.
Sean.
How'd they even get here? What happened? Arthur couldn't think straight as he kicked his horse into a furious gallop away from everything. Half of Rhodes now lay dead and he couldn't care less. Infact he'd taken a wicked pleasure in putting a bullet through Sheriff Grays' skull. Just like Sean. Midnight panted as she pushed hard into the ground with no real directions, she just knew to run. So they did until Arthur pulled her into a stop near the water, near where He had gone fishing with Dutch and Hosea. He pulled out his satchel and cleared his mind until the rampant disorganized thoughts finally settled into coherent sentences that he could write into his journal. He pretended to not see the tear stain on the paper, or the blood that he'd wiped onto the page. Sean's blood, he realized.
His heart ached as he realized He would have to tell Karin. Poor Karin. The girl and Sean had some sort of unofficial relationship that they thought no one knew of, but it was blatantly obvious to the entire camp. How he wished he could just close his eyes and wake up. He shook his head, and sighed. He had to go back to camp, he realized. They had to know and they had to move, again. He wasn't quite sure where to yet. He'd figure it out, he always did.
Arthur nudged Midnight into a run back to camp. As they pulled into the entrance he could see Dutch, Abigail, John, and Evelyn shouting to each other. Alarmed, he quickly dismounted and made his way to them.
Evelyn stood above one of the Braitwaite men, gun to his temple. Mrs. Braithwaite wailed, kicking at Dutch who held her against the wall. One of her sons was already dead on the floor but one had only gotten shot in the stomach, and that was the one Evelyn had grasped tightly by the hair and jerking his head back so he could see his mother as she shrieked. He moaned in pain.
"Where are the children?" Hosea demanded. She spewed some nonsense about how they had lived in that house for years, and something about Yankee's. Hosea shoved her harshly against the wall, making sure she hit her head against it.
"You killed my sons!" She hissed. Dutch laughed coldly.
"And Evelyn here will surely kill your last, lest you get to talking." He taunted. She spit at him.
"Common scum." She spat. Dutch lowered his gun and put his face close to hers.
"Where are they?" He asked in a slow, low voice.
"Filth." She merely said. Dutch chuckled bitterly and shoved her to Hosea who took hold of her arms.
"Alright, we get her outta here." He said.
"What about them?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the man underneath Evelyn. Dutch took hold of Mrs. Braithwaite's hair and forced her head to look at her son.
"What do you think, Evelyn?" He asked. The hag in his hold shrieked more, then wailed as Evelyn made eye contact with her and put a bullet through his skull. "John, Arthur, Hosea. Burn this hell hole to the ground." Dutch commanded. They were all too happy to oblige. As the manor sparked into flames Mrs. Braithwaite crumpled to the ground.
"Why'd you steal the children?" Hosea demanded.
"You stole my liquor. You stole my horses. You started this damn war." The woman cried.
"You don't steal children you damn hag." Hosea spit. Dutch pointed his revolver at her.
"Where are they?" He asked. She sneered at them.
"My sons gave him to Angelo Bronte. My guess is Saint Denis." She cackled. "Or on a boat to Italy!" Dutch rolled his eyes and signaled for everyone to leave.
"Let's get out of here." He called.
"What about her?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the old woman who lay crumpled on the dirt.
"Let her rot."
The manor ignited into a fearsome blaze, illuminating the property around it. Evelyn watched as the woman wailed and crawled into the fire. She turned, following the rest of the men as they left. The Braithwaite son's blood felt sticky against her face. She smiled, hoping his death was painful. Arthur watched her in concern as they rode back to camp. Evelyn was beginning to tire, the adrenaline that had spurred her into action slowly draining away to leave the bitter emptiness of fear deep in her heart. When she'd discovered the children missing she immediately shut off her emotions, unable to cry and only feeling the white hot burn of anger crawling up her throat and the sickly fear clutching her stomach.
When Dutch had called for the men to arm up and march she was the first one mounted, despite Dutch suggesting that she stay with Abigail. She refused coldly, stating that she was coming and left no room for argument. She'd already changed into her pants and a shirt and had a Lancaster Repeater that Charles gifted her slung across her back.
Her baby. Her precious Annabell, and Jack the boy she'd grown to love as her own. How could someone steal two innocent children from the arms of their mothers?
How could she have let them? Her mind thought bitterly. She scoffed. They arrived to the camp, Abigail running to John with hope in her eyes. It killed Evelyn to see it be replaced with despair as she sobbed into John's coat and he lead her back to their tent. The rest of the camps residents resumed their nighttime routine and Evelyn couldn't bring herself to get off her horse. Arthur, who'd hung back to keep an eye on Evelyn came up to her side. He rested a hand on her thigh and offered her a hand to help her get down.
"Let me help you, Miss." He said softly. She stared down at him, her eyes wide with unshed tears. She shakily placed her hand in his and let him help her. As she was lowered to the ground she fell into Arthur, grasping his leather vest tightly and finally let the tears flow. He stood there and held her as she shook with the force of her sobbing. As she began quieting down many minutes later she finally spoke.
"I can't believe... My Anna... I can't believe I let someone take her." She whispered mournfully. Arthur tightened his arms around her, lowering his head to bury his nose in her hair.
"Ain't none of what happened your fault, you hear? It was the work of evil people, and they're dead now." He soothed. Evelyn sniffed, her face still buried in his chest.
"I'm tired, Arthur." She whimpered. He nodded and lifted her into his arms and carried her away to the campfire that resided a bit outside of the camp. Usually it was reserved for the nightly watch but with the day's events everyone was in mourning, too tired and broken to stand vigilant on watch. He situated himself near the fire, up against a tree and cradled Evelyn in his arms as she cried herself to sleep. He quickly followed her into slumber.
What a day.
The next morning wasn't any easier. Dutch, Arthur, Hosea, Evelyn, and John sat gathered at a table together.
"I cannot express how proud I am of you two in this moment." Dutch said earnestly to John and Evelyn. Evelyn had a comforting hand on Johns back. "You're both doing the right thing. Staying calm. Logically, the children are just fine." He reassured them. Evelyn's eyes were bloodshot and she still wore yesterday's clothes, though she had washed her face clean of blood. "They want to scare us, they won't harm your dear Annabell or precious Jack." He said confidently.
Evelyn appreciated the effort.
"If something happens to Jack... I'll... she... She'll kill us all." John said, his voice harsh and cracking. He was referring to Abigail who was hidden away, still crying. Dutch shook his head.
"Nothing will happen to them." He repeated. Hosea nodded.
"Nobody takes a child to hurt them. They just wanna scare us, they'll be fine." Hosea agreed. Arthur nodded.
"They'll be just fine. But of course they're scared rotten;" Arthur gestured to the two parents. "All those people we killed? The trouble we stirred up? For nothin'" He lamented.
"For livin', son."
"Dutch! We gotta problem!" Lenny called out. They turned to see two men in suits being followed at gunpoint by Lenny. The man in the lead held his hands up.
"Not a problem, a solution." He offered. Everyone stood to attention and gathered around, leaving a path from the agents to Dutch. They stood on either side protectively with their guns out. Evelyn stood by Arthur, confused but also with her revolver cocked.
"Mr. Van Der Linde, Mr. Mathews," the man looked John up and down with distaste. "And who are you?"
"Rip Van Winkle." John answered curtly, cocking his gun. The agent rolled his eyes, which lit up when they fell onto Evelyn.
"Ah, and how did you end up here, Mrs. Kings? You're a far ways away from your husband's estate, are you not?" The agent asked mockingly. Arthur shifted closer to her.
"I don't know who you are." She said. The man feigned hurt.
"Agent Milton, and Agent Ross. You've a high bounty on your head, Mrs. Kings. About as high as Mr. Van Der Linde's. I suppose that's the price for killing one of Americas most prestigious Bank owners, though." He said, his eyes raking up and down her body, then stopping on Arthur who stood stiffly next to her.
"Nice to see you again, Mr. Morgan." He greeted. Arthur glared at him, staying silent.
"And to what do we owe the pleasure, Mr. Moron?" Dutch tauntingly asked.
"We're here to save these poor lost souls from your foolish ambitions. This is a civilized country now, your kind don't belong here any longer." Milton said. He examined the people around him, smirking. "I'm here to offer a lifeline to the poor folks. Turn yourself in, Van Der Linde, and we'll give the rest of you three days to run. A most generous offer." He said, watching as Dutch rose from his seat at the table and turned around, his hands up.
"I lead no one. These folk are here of their own free will, to escape this so-called 'civilized' land you claim."
"And who made you the Messiah? You lead these people to nothing but prolonged pain and suffering. You're nothing but a killer." Milton spit, then took a deep breath. Dutch surrendered and stepped towards the agents who readied a pair of hand cuffs. He chuckled.
"You'd offer a savior to these people in return for me? Ain't that just fine." Dutch drawled. Around them a symphony of weapons being cocked and aimed sang out.
"I think it's time for your friends to leave, Dutch." Miss Grimshaw grit out.
Agent Milton sneered. "You're all making a huge mistake."
"We've got something, we live and love and fight. Can you say the same?" Dutch asked. The Agents turned to leave.
"The next time you see me there'll be fifty men to turn all of you in." He growled as he looked at everyone. His eyes settled on Evelyn. "And you, I'm sure Glenn Kings' family will be happy to see you hang." He spat out. The two Agents took their leave, Lenny following closely behind to ensure they didn't try anything funny.
"Dutch, we gotta leave this place." Arthur plead. Around everyone gathered anxiously awaiting orders. "There's a big house out in the swamps outside Saint Denise. Me 'n Lenny cleared it of the Civil War folk. Well hidden, we'll be safe there at least for a few days."
Dutch nodded, his eyes staring far away into the sky. He took a deep breath. "You and John go get it ready. The rest of us will stay here and pack up." Dutch ordered. Arthur and John spurred into action, quickly getting their weapons ready and mounting up.
"And John," Dutch called out. "We'll find Jack. Don't you worry about that." John nodded and the two rode away. Dutch gestured for everyone to get moving, and for the second time since Evelyn's arrival they made quick work of packing up.
Evelyn made her way over to Abigail, who'd retreated back to her tent after the Pinkerton Agents left. She was packing up hers, Johns, and Jacks belongings.
"Abigail, how are you?" Evelyn asked softly. Abigail stopped to look at her. She sighed.
"I'm about as okay as you are, I reckon." She chuckled bitterly. Evelyn put her hand on the woman's shoulder.
"We'll find them. I'm so sorry, Abigail." Evelyn said, her chest tight. Abigail patted her hand.
"This ain't your fault. I know you're going to find our babies. I have faith." Abigail assured her. Evelyn nodded and turned away to pack up her own tent. She still felt so guilty for the children being taken. She changed out of the shirt she was wearing, a gray now bloodstained shirt she'd borrowed from the laundry line yesterday and swapped it with a long sleeve navy colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway to just below her elbows. She opted to stay in pants and tied her hair up in a loose braid. She started with the loose objects first, Evelyns books, Annabell's toys, and any loose articles of clothing that hadn't made it into the dirty laundry pile yet. Her eyes watered as she packed away the doll she bought for the girl from Rhodes. She shook her head, ridding herself of the tears threatening to fall and focused on her task.
Her thoughts strayed to this morning. She'd woken in an unusual setting, instead of her tent she was surrounded by trees and the open air. Confused, she looked up, her eyes landing on Arthur Morgan's, who was looking down at her. Mortified she realized that she was sleeping on top of the man, whose arms were wrapped snuggly around her to keep her in place. They stared at each other for what felt like forever before Evelyn flung herself off of him.
"I'm so sorry." She blurted out. He cleared his throat and rested his arm on his now upturned knee.
"Ain't no problem, Miss. You'd pretty much passed out and it seemed like you needed company." He said. Evelyn blushed furiously and stood up, facing away from him.
"I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, thank you Arthur." She replied. She left before hearing his response, and then soon after the Pinkertons showed up.
Evelyn shook her head, trying to ignore the weightlessness in her chest at the memory. Soon her tent was neatly packed up and stowed onto a wagon. She hadn't accumulated many personal belongings during her time with the gang so she was one of the first done and she tried helping out where she could. She helped Kieran with the extra horses, tethering them to the back of a wagon and making sure the straps were tightened on the draft horses who would be pulling said wagons. The camp wasn't quite sure what to do with Sean's horse so they kept it with the others until they could figure something out. Evelyn hadn't had much time to think about Seans death, since she'd only learned about it on their way to the Braithwait Manor when she was hyper-focused on finding her daughter. She wasn't very close to him, but she knew he was a sweet and good-natured boy, so her heart hurt at the loss.
"Alright everyone," Dutch yelled out. John stood by him, holding Abigail in a hug. Evelyn didn't even notice his return. "Let's get a move on!" With that the gang seemed to move as one. Evelyn rode in the back, Sadie riding alongside her. The creaking of so many wagons was comforting to her, for some odd reason. It made her feel like she was a part of a community, which she guessed that she'd been here long enough to be considered a part of the Van Der Linde gang now. Their destination wasn't all that far away, with the slow-moving Caravan the trip was only an hour. Everyone whispered excitedly as they pulled up to a massive mansion tucked away discreetly in the woods where it couldn't be seen unless one knew what they were looking for. She wondered how Lenny had found it, so long ago.
Arthur welcomed them as they all pulled up, his arms out in a flourishing gesture, showing off the property proudly.
"Welcome, to my humble abode." He said. Dutch looked around, nodding in approval.
"You boys did great in findin' this spot. Thank you, John, Arthur, for getting it ready for us. I trust you had no issues?" He asked. Arthur shrugged.
"Just some stragglers."
"Wonderful. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw! Work your magic!" He called to the two camp patrons, who obeyed quickly. He looked to Evelyn and nodded at her, gesturing for her to come closer.
"Mrs. Kings, Mr. Morgan, ride with Me?" He requested. They both nodded and prepared to ride after him. Molly called out.
"Dutch, can we talk?" She asked. Dutch shook his head, turning his back on her.
"Not right now." He said simply before nudging his horse into a canter with Evelyn and Arthur in tow. As they got further and further away Dutch shook his head. "Can you believe her? All I've got goin' on and she wants to talk." He scoffed. Evelyn looked at him, surprised at the venom in his tone.
"Where we goin', Dutch?" Arthur asked. He was also confused at Dutch's irritation at his lover.
"Well, I thought it'd be a good idea to get acquainted with our new home, the big city." Dutch answered from ahead. "We're going to ask around for Angelo Bronte."
