Hosea dragged Arthur into the house to sleep off the drink while Dutch and Annabelle lounged on the porch seats. The raven haired youth haphazardly rolled himself a cigarette while the girl leaned on her elbows, staring at him intently behind her messy dark brown curls.
"You can roll your own, Princess." He sneered, tightly packing the tobacco in the paper and rolling it between his fingers before wetting the lip of it with his tongue.
"You know, as long as you don't open your mouth, you're a rather suave looking man, Mr. Van der Linde." She frowned, still propped up on her elbows and swaying slightly.
"Mr. Van der Linde. Even the way you say my name makes my skin crawl." He snorted as he stuck the wet paper to the dry and set it down between them.
"Why did you insist on us just reading to one another? You could've had me and been gone. But night after night you'd crawl up to my window just to talk about books." She went to grab the cigarette between them but Dutch caught her wrist and gave her a cold, mean look. She took him off with her free hand and grabbed it anyway, putting it between her lips and lighting a match. Holding it up but letting her cigarette remain unlit.
"You had interesting books, Miss McLean." He sprinkled tobacco into another piece of paper and carefully worked it between his fingers.
"Do the whores you spend cold winter nights with even know your real name? Or did my literary treasures make me worthier of your tragic backstory, Mr. Van der Linde?" She lit her cigarette and coughed a bit as she inhaled more than she had bargained for.
"I never intended for you to come with me. I'm a scoundrel, a dog, a lowly worm writhing around on this god forsaken earth just waiting for you and your kind to crush me under your boot. I told you a story in exchange for the ones in your library. You were a means to an end." He licked the paper and squeezed it together tightly as he reached for the match box, catching her staring at him again.
"You could've lied to me, but you didn't." She raised her eyebrows and he chuckled, snatching the box from her lap and producing a flame of his own.
"I should've." He puffed on the small hand rolled cigarette and exhaled loudly.
"So what are we doing next?" She asked, accidentally flicking the cherry out of her cigarette and pouting as she watched it burn by the feet.
"There is no we. There never was," he crushed the ember under his boot and lit another match for her, holding it out as she leaned in and inhaled, "go home, Annabelle."
"Thanks to you I don't have a home to go crawling back to. I can pull my weight. You'd take down much bigger fish if you let me stick around, Mr. Van der Linde. I know the major players, I know the game and how it's played, and you fake it well but you're no different than a scarecrow in a three piece suit. There's money to be made in Saint Denis." She leaned back in her chair and coughed again, gently tapping her chest.
"You've never smoked before, have you? Mark my words, Annabelle, this rough and rumble lifestyle will squash you like a bug. I'm not a good man, or a kind one, or much of a gentleman. But," He paused, ashing his cigarette and realizing she was toying with him again, "this lifestyle will eat you alive and spit out your bones."
"I wanted to see if it had any appeal," she picked a loose piece of tobacco that stung her gums out of her mouth and stamped the cigarette out, "you're a contradiction, Mr. Van der Linde. You hate this life of running all over hell and half the country, because of the sadistic nature of your trade. The rough and rumble, as you said. Yet despite this, you never swallowed up my bones though you could've easily done so. You've tried to kill me now, four or five times? But you hesitate."
"Mr. Morgan and the Matthews would skin me alive if I did. I prefer being above ground than below it. We live by a code." He exhaled, blowing the silvery threads away from them before leaning back in his chair.
"Yet the code means nothing to a pawn like me, right?" She stood up, stretching a bit as she leaned against the veranda and looked out at their sparse camp below.
"Now you're starting to catch on. Good, I was worried I hadn't made it perfectly clear that you aren't welcome to ride with us." He laughed and ashed his cigarette.
"Can I ask something of you before we part ways, Mr. Van der Linde?" She turned around to face him, leaning against the weathered wood.
"You're not coming." He replied flatly, exhaling a large cloud of smoke at her which she dispelled with her hand.
"I know. That's not what I was going to ask." She glanced at the floor and bit her lip.
"Alright, what can I do for you, Miss McLean?" Dutch stamped out the cigarette and folded his hands in his lap, smirking at her. He could still feel the booze sloshing around in his veins, dulling his senses and removing his inhibitions.
"I want you to be the one to…" Her gaze darted up at him and he sneered, knowing full well what she was asking.
"Now why would I rob a sweet little thing like you of her virginity? Give me one good reason." He folded his arms as his eyes narrowed, glowering at her as she ran her fingers along the post in thought for a while.
"Call me a romantic. You're the first man who looked at me as more than just a fancy broodmare, even if it was just a ruse. You can even include Mr. Matthews and Mr. Morgan in the festivities, considering the type of private reading material you have lying around." She tapped the wood briefly with her fingers as Dutch rose to stand.
"A dreamer, huh?" He put a hand on her waist and pulled her close to him, carefully running a finger over her lips and pressing himself against her.
"I just want to know what it's like," she wrapped her arms around his neck and gently pulled at his slicked back hair, "once. In a sweet way. Before this world swallows me whole and spits out my bones."
"I've heard it's not pleasant, losing your chastity to a man. Are you certain you want me to be the one to do it?" He wrapped a hand around her neck to tease her but she shrugged it off and put her head against his chest.
"I'll give you the spoils of robbing my father if you're gentle with me, Mr. Van der Linde."
"You'd pay me like a whore for something I could've taken from you at any point in time?" He laughed quietly, pushing her away but she pulled him close to her again.
"Twelve thousand and five hundred dollars, take it or leave it, Mr. Van der Linde."
—-
He carried her from the porch to his tent, setting her down gently in the pale moonlight to undo the flap and gesture for her to head inside. She nodded, taking a seat on the cot as he shifted inside and turned his back to her to shut the flap tight. He could hear her trying to untie the back of her dress, grunting slightly as she tried to pull at the small bow in the back.
"Let me," he whispered, delicately pulling the bow and tugging at the string until it came loose, stretching out the string with his fingers until she held it in front of her chest, "you wanted me to be sweet, right?"
"Don't patronize me." She clung to the fabric around her bust as she stood up. He wrapped his arms around her waist again and softly kissed the back of her neck.
"I won't. I'll be real gentle-like. Highest paid whore in the whole United States." He whispered, pushing the loose dress material from her hands and to her waist.
"What should I be doing?" She asked as he kissed her neck and collar bone.
"Just enjoy it." He began to fiddle with her corset, pulling the string loose as it fell off of her underdress and he moved his hand up towards her breasts.
"Wait." She whispered, turning to face him and letting the dress and corset fall to the floor. She began to kiss him on the mouth while pushing his suspender straps off of his shoulders, slowly unbuttoning the long shirt.
"You've done this before." he chuckled, pulling his mouth away from hers for a moment, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.
"No," she whispered back as she moved the shirt off his back, "but I thought about this thoroughly."
"Have you?" He smirked and pushed one side of her undress off her shoulder, pressing his mouth to hers again. He took her into his arms and began to slide the other strap off of her shoulder.
"You're warmer than I imagined you'd be." She pulled away as the underdress threatened to fall to the floor but she caught it just above her breasts. He pulled her back and peeled the dress off, letting it slip through her fingers and onto the floor. He could feel her body against his and he slid his hands to her waist again, digging a thumb into the divot of her hips. She squealed a bit and he stopped, half closing his eyes to give her a stern look.
"If you think that hurts, I have news for you–" But she raised a finger to his mouth and grabbed at his belt.
"It caught me off guard, that's all." She pulled the belt out of the loop, slowly tugging it out of the loops of his pants and grabbed at the button.
"Wait," he put his hand on her wrist and brushed hand away, "not yet."
"Why?" She asked as he picked her up and set her down on the small square table of his tent, pushing things out of the way with his forearm.
"You'll see." He leaned her back down onto the wooden surface and started kissing her neck again, his stubble scratching her soft white skin as he made his way south. She giggled a little bit as he mouthed over her abdomen with his mouth, she instinctively grabbed at his head to pull him back up towards her and he paused, giving her a stern look again.
"It tickles," She laughed, "it feels good but it's a bit too much."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow and slid back up towards her again, leaning on his forearms and brushing a stray hair from her face.
"Where were you going with that anyway?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and he lay on top of her for a moment.
"Here." He slid a hand across her thigh and pressed it between her legs and she nearly choked him as she gripped his neck tightly.
"I told you it wasn't a pleasant experience," he snickered as she wrapped her body around him, "but you insisted. Now, should I continue or do you want to pay me now and get out?"
"You're hurting me on purpose." She moaned as he pulled his hand away and gently put his finger back into her.
"I'm not. Though I'd really like to." he grunted, sliding it back out and undoing the button on his pants.
"Dutch–" She writhed a bit but he put a hand over her mouth softly, tracing her lips with the finger he had used a moment ago.
"Relax," He brushed her lips with his thumb now and snorted, "we're not there yet. And Annabelle?"
She nodded as he pressed his full weight against her to whisper in her ear.
"You better have that money first thing tomorrow morning. If you even think about riding off into the sunset with it, you've got another thing coming. Understand?"
"Whatever you say, Mr. Van der Linde." She whispered back as he kissed her neck again.
—-
The next morning he awoke in a haze, he went to scratch his face but realized that he couldn't move his left arm from behind his head so he went to use his right and heard his hand clang against the cot. He could feel a body wrapped around him and the foggy memories of Annabelle came back to him. He went to move his feet and found that he had been lashed to the cot at the ankles, as the girl stirred on his chest and propped herself up with an elbow.
"Sleep well, Robin Hood?" She traced a nail over his chest and he closed his eyes angrily.
"Annabelle. Why am I tied up?" He exhaled loudly through his nose as the girl giggled.
"Where's your stash at, Mr. Van der Linde?" She teased, kissing his collarbone and slowly moving her mouth down and retreating under the covers.
"Cute, you've got ten seconds to untie me before I kill you." He opened his eyes again as she paused in her southward retreat.
"Oh I don't think so." She pulled the covers back over her head and grabbed him, making him writhe a bit. "Where's. The. Money. Van der Linde."
"Annabelle! Quit fucking around." He hissed as she rested her head on his thigh and wagged a finger at him.
"Dutch. I think we both know I'm not playing around," she squeezed him in his hands tighter and he bit his lip, "do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?"
"You snake!" He moaned a bit as she toyed with him in her hands before she seemed to grow bored and sat up. She leaned back and grabbed the revolver from his gun belt and locked the hammer back, holding it steady in front of her.
"You're right. You tend to prefer the harder lessons. Where's the money I took from daddy, Dutch."
"Like I'd tell you!" He roared back, trying to wriggle against the hemp rope that pinned him down. She moved forward a bit, leaning down and putting the cold metal to his temple.
"Darling, don't be like that." Her eyes were cold and Dutch realized that perhaps this little delicate flower had more thorns than he had accounted for.
"You're inbred white trash, you Jezebel, vile serpent! UGH! YOU BITCH!. I should've taken you to meet some of the other boys. They would've loved tearing you up, breaking you in. God, your screams would've been sweet music to my ears." Dutch spat at her and Annabelle wiped the saliva from her breast and shoved the gun into his mouth.
"I'm sure they would've, but you're a man of honor, Dutch Van der Linde. I'm only going to ask you one more time, where's the goddamn money?"
He gestured with his eyes to a small cupboard in the tent and she left the gun in his mouth while she went to look inside. She opened it and pointed to the various boxes, trinkets, and books he had hidden away inside of it.
"Ssssgaar bhosh." He motioned with his eyes again and she opened the small cigar box and tucked it under her arm before setting it on the table and retrieving her underdress and his button up shirt.
"See, honey, that wasn't so difficult," she slid her underdress over her head and bent down to retrieve his shirt and buttoned it up over herself, "I was real sweet-like."
"I should've known!" He managed to push the gun out of his mouth with his tongue as she snatched his hat and the cigar box from the table. She had been up early, waiting for him to wake up just so he would know that she got the better of him. He seethed, frantically trying to break his bonds as the cot hopped around on the wooden floor.
"Shhhh," she picked the revolver up off of his chest and threw his hat over his nakedness and held a finger to her lips, "I would say it pains me to see you like this, Mr. Van der Linde, but I don't want to hurt your feelings by lying to you. You fell for the oldest trick in the book, again. I bet that stings, doesn't it? I would love to stick around and see how Mr. Matthews and Mr. Morgan react to the great intellectual, Dutch Van der Linde. Tied up, naked, and helpless by an eighteen year old girl who sweet talked him into his own bed."
"Annabelle, I swear to god if you walk out of this tent with my money I am going to fucking end you! I will find you!" He huffed, turning bright red as he tried to wriggle out of the rope that was cutting into his wrists.
"Here," she tossed a stack of bills on his chest from the cigar box and nodded her head to him, "a little token of my appreciation to the most expensive and naive whore in the United States. For what it's worth, you were the first man I laid with. But this is goodbye, Dutch Van der Linde."
She strode out of the tent, tucking the revolver into a saddlebag before looking up at the Matthews house to make sure no one had woken during Dutch's screaming before mounting Ares and leading him and Aramis away as the sun began to rise. She gently kicked the blood bay stallion and cantered off with him and the chestnut gelding down the hill below. She was headed to Saint Denis, she had a cousin in the city she could stay with, married to some strange fool of a man who was gone a majority of the time anyway. She could slip into town and disappear entirely. She felt a tinge of guilt for not saying her goodbyes to Mrs. Matthews, Mr. Matthews, and Mr. Morgan. They had been kind to her during the last month or so, she smiled as she remembered Bessie wildly firing her rifle at Dutch. That woman should have actually taken the shot instead of intentionally missing you, she thought.
"FUCK!" Dutch roared, "I'LL KILL YOU ANNABELLE! I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND I WILL KILL YOU!"
—-
Arthur was in stitches, rolling around in the grass howling as Hosea walked down the steep game trail from his patio towards the boy thrashing in the grass.
"Will you quit cackling like a hyena already, Arthur! It isn't funny!" Dutch moaned mournfully from behind the canvas curtain.
"Let me guess. She robbed you." Hosea smirked as he pulled the flap back a moment and immediately let go the moment he spotted the young man. Dutch had somehow managed to flip the cot and was now stuck on his side, his furniture upended from thrashing around. The older man bit his lip, trying not to laugh as Arthur continued to howl, clutching at the grass and tears streaming down his face.
"H-h-hosea!" Arthur tried to breathe as they caught eyes and both burst out laughing again.
"You ingrates! Just untie me already!" Dutch was starting to go hoarse from screaming a good portion of the morning, his voice coming out as a raspy squeak.
"I warned you, Dutch." Hosea took a deep breath and sat down on the wooden platform, pulling out his knife and sliding it under the canvas. "Cut yourself loose."
"I'm going to fucking kill both of you and then I'm going to hunt that foul banshee down and split her face with an axe! Throw her off a cliff by her neck! Burn her at the stake like the witch she is!" Dutch began to think of various ways of killing the girl if he ever ran into her again.
"Vengeance is a fool's game, my friend. We have work to do, well, you have work to do. How much did she take?" Hosea ran a hand over his face and set his hat down as he heard the cot scraping along the floor again towards the knife. Thumping along the wooden floor.
"All of it. The little bitch left me penniless. A pauper. The shell game money, the savings, her daddy's money, the money we got from that little stagecoach robbery back in New Roanoke…I can't reach the knife. Just cut me loose, Mr. Matthews." Dutch sighed and Hosea rolled his eyes before lifting the flap away and coming in to cut one of the man's hands free.
"And Hosea?" Dutch snatched the knife with his right hand and cut his arm free, slumping to the floor a moment before propping himself up on his elbows, waving the knife at his companion who knelt nearby, "If either of you bastards ever speak of this incident again, I'll make sure you're six feet under."