Arthur had been riding for an hour and a half before he lost the law from Blackwater. Once he was out of danger, he jumped off the horse and hitched it to a nearby tree overlooking the waterfall. Stormed up to the edge and screamed in agony. The pistol he had used to kill Isabela still bloody in his holster. He took it out and threw it over the side of the cliff along with the bloodied holster. Then collapsed to his knees. Isabella voice still clear in mind.
"You do whatever Dutch tells you to don't you."
She was right, Arthur didn't even hesitate to pull the trigger, and he killed her, just like that.
"You're nothing, but a dumb thug aren't you." He yelled at himself as he sat on the edge of the mountain overlooking the falls. His head hung in his hands. How was it so easy to take life so absentmindedly.
"What the fuck is wrong with me." He asked himself and looked up.
"Shit, what if I can't step foot in Blackwater again." He pinched the vein on his forehead with his thumb, trying to stop the spiralling thoughts which were leading to a headache.
"What would Rosalyn think of me?" He asked, coming to a realization. A look of horror in his eyes as he went silent.
After a long 20 minutes of inner thoughts, he looked at his bloodied clothes. Arthur needed to get changed, but he had left his horse in Blackwater. The best he could do was go back to camp, and they were used to see him in such a state, but this time. Arthur didn't want to go one second longer wearing those bloody clothes. He stripped off his shirt and vest and tossed them, washed his face and hair in the running waters and tried to get himself a clean of Izzy's blood, but no matter how hard he tried. Her blood was still staining his hands. After realizing no amount of washing would make a difference, he saddled up back on the horse he stole and headed back for camp — unarmed other than his knife and bare-chested.
Back in Blackwater, Dutch was at the Saloon. The entire town was on lockdown and forced to stay put. Smoking a cigar with a glass of scotch, he watched an idle game of dominos and made small talk with the folks in town. His charm catching the attention of some of the ladies, but there was only one he was waiting for. Miss Rosalyn Bush. After his second glass of booze, she finally arrived.
"Miss Bush." He said, getting up ignoring the curly hair brunette who was about to pour him another drink as she walked in. A sombre expression on Rosalyn's face as the Deputy escorted her.
"My Lady, what's wrong?" Dutch asked seeing the tear-stained mascara running under her eyes.
"So you do know who I am," Rosalyn said, ignoring his question, walking past him to sit somewhere alone.
"I do, I understand the secrets what with how dangerous it is on the road, but why are you crying?" Dutch asked again following her before the Deputy stepped in front of him.
"The Lady has had a trying day, sir, and please leave her be." The Deputy said, putting a hand on Dutch's chest to keep him from getting closer. A small glare in Dutch's eye as he did.
"You wouldn't happen to know about the shooting in the street today, do you? Mr Van Der Linde?" Rosalyn asked.
"Shooting? I heard a gunshot not long ago. What happened?" He asked smoothly. Not giving a hint of hesitation in his lies as if he had rehearsed it like an actor would for a play.
"Isabella Morningstar. Heard of her?" Rosalyn asked suspiciously.
"The name sounds familiar. Isn't that the famed bounty hunter? The Lady in Red?" Dutch asked.
"She was murdered." Rosalyn spat aggressively before the Deputy pushed her back.
"It couldn't have been him. I saw the murderer! Perhaps if there was a reward I could describe him" One of the bar patrons stood up hearing the conversation.
"A reward!?" Rosalyn shouted. "You are going to tell me everything you saw or else you will be the next one who's blood is split on these streets." She spoke passionately with a fiery rage. Which only made Dutch more attracted to her.
"A-a big nasty looking fellow. I saw him ride out of town." The witness announced to the bar with a stutter not interested in invoking the lady's wrath. Everyone's eyes were on him, including Dutch.
"Well come on then, anything else?" Dutch asked pressuring the man.
"I... I didn't see his face. He was wearing a white shirt." The witness shivered with all the attention on him.
"Come with me, let's go report this to the sheriff. Miss, would you to come along?" The Deputy asked.
"No. I wish to be alone." Rosalyn looked disappointed that the man had nothing much else to say. Perhaps Arthur would come back with something. Was that why he rode off To chase after the killer.
Rosalyn sat down at a table in the back, Dutch pulled a chair along with her and silently sat down.
"I said I wanted to be alone." Rosalyn glared at Dutch who merely handed her a fresh cigar.
"I wouldn't recommend it looks like you were rather close to Miss Morningstar," Dutch said as Rosalyn's eyes narrowed at him, but she took the cigar. Dutch had already cut the end off for her and before she could reach into her purse. Dutch had struck a match and was ready to light it.
"Why are you so nice to me?" Rosalyn asked knowing no man ever put this much effort into anything unless there was some reward in the end.
"Because I knew Isabella when she was a little girl," Dutch said honestly. "But you already knew that. Didn't you?" He asked as she leaned over and lite the cigar. She took a long drag from it and leaned back heavily in her chair.
"Maybe." She said and put both of her feet up on the table and leaned back.
"Well. The truth of the matter is, Isabella didn't like me very much. Even after I saved her from her horrible incestuous family, but I highly doubt she told you that." Roslayn's eyes widened, and she stayed silent curious to more details. "You see the boys, and I were looking for work when we came upon a farm out in the boonies of the west grizzlies — stopped in the see if they needed a few helping hands what with Arthur being as strong as he is and John, well needed to learn what proper day of labour is actually like. We offered our services, but they turned us away. We even offered to work for something to eat, but still, they pulled out their shotguns and threatened us if we didn't leave. So we did, well that is until Hosea discovered Isabella in the barn."
"Why was Hosea in the barn?" Rosalyn asked.
"We were hungry, starving, actually and well. Desperate people do desperate things. Hosea was going to steal a chicken I think, but instead, he found a beaten, scared little girl." He said with a sad sigh.
"Wh... What happened next?" Rosalyn asked, putting her feet down so she could lean forward and listen more. Isabella never being one to share details of her past.
"Well, he asked her how she ended up in the barn-like that and well. Let's just say, and I didn't approve. There's a lot of nasty men in this world, but the things her kin did to her. The Lord would never forgive." Dutch said as that bartender brought them some drinks.
"What did you do?" Rosalyn asked.
"Burnt their house to the ground. To cleanse the world of their filth."
The ride back to camp Arthur took was off the familiar path, not wanting to be jumped without a gun in this rough area. Lucky enough, he wasn't far from camp and got back within an hour. As he approached, Bill was on watch.
"Who's that!" He boisterously said.
"It's me!" Arthur bitterly yelled and rode past him.
"Arthur! Hey, you okay?" Bill asked, seeing the state he was riding in. Arthur rode past too quickly to respond. He leapt off the horse and hastily hitched it to the post and stormed off for his bunk.
"Arthur! We've been worried sick. John said Dutch, and you went to Blackwater after some score. What happened?" Hosea called out and rushed up. Arthur did not stop, just lumbered forward, making Hosea step in front of him to force him to stop. "Hey, stop for a second. Are you okay? What happened to your clothes?" Hosea asked, but Arthur glared at him.
"I don't want to talk about it," Arthur said briefly and brushed Hosea off. "Arthur." Hosea sounded worried but could recognize the pain in his eyes. "You know I'm always here for you." He called out, making Arthur slow his step, but he shook his head and continued forth until he reached his bunk. He closed the flap to the tent. To be out of view of the rest of the camp who had watched his every step. Arthur sat down on his bed with a heavy thud, the wood creaking under his weight as he hung his head in shame. Hosea's words echoing in his head as his heart and brain hurt. Frustrated, he needed to talk to someone. Perhaps Hosea would be the right one to talk to?
As if reading his mind, the flap of the tent opened. A plate of food was held in by the familiar gloved hand of Hosea, "I got a beer for you too, but you gotta talk to me for that." Hosea bribed him. "Fine, come in," Arthur said as he pulled on a clean shirt from his trunk. Hosea stepped in, two beers in his other hand and sat down next to Arthur on the bed and handed him the food. "What's wrong son?"