Against his wishes, the men had clobbered him again and dragged him back to an apartment Annabelle had overlooking the river. He groaned as he put the cool towel over his head, trying to soothe the throbbing aches in his temples. She had given him a private room, as promised, although it seemed like it was actually her bedroom. Lavish gold framed paintings, a thick oak desk with hidden drawers, a large bay window and terrace overlooking the river, and one of the nicest beds he had ever laid upon. The mattress was soft, probably made of down feathers, conformed to his body as he patted his face before eventually setting the towel in the cool bowl of water.
He needed to get up, it was already the afternoon of the next day. He went to push himself up but the door opened and he flopped back down in defeat, assuming it was that little snake or one of her associates.
"You had to mouth off, didn't you, Dutch." A familiar voice said as he heard the spurs jingle and the door shut.
"Mr. Matthews. I thought you were out of the game?" Dutch grunted and pulled himself upright, setting his feet on the ground as the older man pulled up a chair and sat across from him.
"We got word a couple weeks ago that you had managed to find yourself imprisoned. It's a nice palace she's set you up in," Hosea inspected the room and scratched his chin, "probably too nice for you. Considering you tried to poison her?"
"I didn't think she'd realize until it was too late. Do you have any idea how long it took Susan and I to make a potent enough batch to get the job done? I heard she needed to be taken out so I–" Dutch began, grabbing the cold cloth again and wringing it out. His face ached from the rifle butt to the chin and the hit he had taken from the taller bodyguard, he soothed his tender skin with the cool material and held it against his eyebrow.
"So we're assassins now?" Hosea crossed his legs and snorted, shaking his head as he tossed his hat onto a chair nearby.
"She started it. I'm just ending it." Dutch grumbled.
"Let it go. The woman's done quite well for herself in the last two years. Spends most of her profits helping feed the poor, educate the orphans–she actually does the sort of thing you claimed you would to me all those years ago in Chicago. She outclassed you, Dutch. You can whine about it or you can learn from it." Hosea snorted as the younger man dropped the towel back into the bowl.
"That girl is just like her dear old daddy. Charitable enough in her schemes and cons to earn the love and admiration of the same peasants she'd crush under her pretty little boots if she had the opportunity. She's a snake. Trying to buy her way into Heaven by acting kind hearted and gentle. She's what's wrong with this country. Men and women like her who look down on noble and honorable men like us, like the schemes and cons and games they play are somehow fair. Macguire was a prick, but I'd rather squeeze what little I can out of a man like that than accept a handout from that woman. You put your hand out, she cuts it off and slaps you with it. The rich and powerful are all the same." He stood up and tugged at his shirt, smoothing down the crisp starched material with his hands as the door opened again but this time it was Susan and Arthur who had entered the room.
"Where is that little viper!" Susan wildly spun around the room as though Annabelle might have be inside with the two men and Hosea nodded his head to young Mr. Morgan who moved the hat from the chair and flopped down in the seat.
"Fortunately it seems our host is absent for the moment, come here." Dutch smirked and grabbed at Susans shoulders, embracing her and giving her a long passionate kiss. Susan accepted it for a while before she pushed her beau off of her and slapped him. He rubbed his cheek mournfully and rolled his eyes.
"You said you would take care of her. Yet here you are sleeping like a king in that little bitches house. You told me she hated you, Dutch. But that's twice now that she's intervened on your behalf. I won't share you with her! I don't know what kind of toxic love game you two are playing at but I won't be a part of it." Susan folded her arms and Dutch shut his eyes and growled.
"I ain't interested in Annabelle. This is her game, Susan. She fucks with people and she's winning this game by turning you against me." Dutch put both hands on either side of his chest as Susan continued huffing and puffing angrily.
"When you two are done flirting, we need to discuss our options. Your little poisoning incident has stirred up a lot of shit between the major players in this town. It works out great for Annabelle, though I don't think you intended it to go that way, by removing a rock out of her shoe. Word got around what you did, Dutch. There's a power struggle forming between the remnants of Macguire's boys, the Silver Dragons, Annabelle, and the Sabuesos over who gets to control the opium trade. A god damn turf war, because you stupidly concocted a revenge scheme against your old flame. And none of you can leave Saint Denis because the second you try to run for the hills, each of those gangs will be fighting each other for who gets to put a little nobody like you in your place. If that girl wanted you dead, she'd have thrown your sorry ass into the streets and let the wolves pull you apart." Hosea rubbed his temples angrily.
"I should've used arsenic." Dutch mumbled as he started to pace the room. He needed to figure out which of Annabelle's rivals would be keen to partner with him, so he could play them both against each other. He'd have Arthur and Hosea work with a rival faction so he could keep tabs on the girl while not giving away that he was absolutely going to betray her in the end. Granted, he would need Susan's help in placating Annabelle so as not to raise her suspicions.
"What drove you to partner with that overgrown bagpipe in the first place? Now all of us are in danger because of your petty spat with that girl. Get a hold of yourself, Van der Linde. You're smarter than this." Hosea scoffed and shook his head, bouncing his leg on his knees and rubbed his hands over his face.
"Couldn't we just wait it out? Lay low for a while and sneak out of town when it calms down?" Arthur asked and the older men mulled it over.
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Gentlemen, we are going to be just fine. We'll help ourselves to our gracious hosts' hospitality and take a few days to observe. I'll think of something, I always do." Dutch picked at his lip and opened the french doors to the veranda that overlooked the river.
—-
Annabelle had certainly spared no expense when it came to feeding, clothing, and sheltering the gang. The penthouse apartment came with servants, attendants, and guards who came and went during the day and night. Of course, Dutch wasn't too thrilled about the men guarding the floor both inside and outside the apartment. He felt like a tiger trapped in a cage, though he had never been exposed to luxuries like the ones his old target provided them. He continually tried to remind himself that just because his prison was a wealthy man's playground, it was still a prison, but that was becoming more difficult the more he explored the confines of the apartment.
Fine suits, custom tailored to him, Hosea, and Arthur. She even had a dressmaker come to visit to take Susans measurements and allowed her to choose from several expensive fabrics. Susan had been hesitant at first, standoffish even, but her beau assured her that there was nothing wrong with taking full advantage of Annabelle's generosity. Spitefully, she had chosen the most expensive ones but the host didn't seem to care about this little passive aggressive move.
They ate and drank like royalty off fine plates, crystal glasses, and silver platters. The finest cuisine that Saint Denis had to offer, night after night. He found as he spent more time in the apartment that he wasn't entirely sure if he could leave it. The black caviar, the foie-gras, the rich red french wines, and the extensive library Annabelle kept in her bedroom. Only emperors and kings could indulge themselves daily on such things, they had been completely out of his reach until now, and he was starting to become fond of this lifestyle. No scraping by, no going hungry from lack of camp supplies, a warm and spacious abode that didn't smell like horses and horse shit, and that indulgent bed that hugged him as he slept. It was the first time he felt well rested, relaxed, and well fed.
Annabelle's bodyguard, Mr. Johnson arrived one afternoon as the gang sat down to a lavish lunch and handed a small envelope to a servant who took it to Dutch.
"You really ought to try that roasted duck, dear. It melts in your mouth." Dutch avoided making eye contact with Mr. Johnson who folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently.
"Sir." The young black woman held out the envelope but Dutch didn't take it, greedily serving himself a plate as Susan played with the golden brown duck breast on hers with her fork.
"Mr. Van der Linde…" Johnson cleared his throat and pointedly stared at the envelope.
"Whatever the lovely mistress wants, I'm not interested." He carefully set his knife down and placed his hand on top of Susan's thigh, rubbing it tenderly as Hosea and Arthur stared at him and then back to the tall and broad shouldered Johnson.
"That's alright," they heard the soft tapping of heels as Annabelle began walking into the dining room and placed her hand on the back of her bodyguard, "it's not from me anyway."
She brushed past her man and held out her hand, indicating to the serving girl that she would take the envelope. As the girl went to straighten up, Dutch snatched it from her hands and slowly began to tear it open to read it.
"For such a refined lady, you dress like a whore." Susan snarled, eyeing the emerald green long sleeved dress that Annabelle wore today. Gold and black patterns swirled over the mass of dark green, reminding Susan of the same kind of patterns as the fancy curtains around the woman's apartment. She smirked as Annabelle looked down at her garment and began pulling off her black leather gloves.
"You know, I wasn't too fond of the material to begin with. But Mrs. Matthews said it complimented my eyes. How's the duck?" She smirked as she set the gloves down on the table and pulled out a chair across from Hosea and Arthur at the other end of the table. She didn't touch the food, instead opting to grab a bottle of wine and pour herself a sizable glass.
"Greasy. Never been fond of rich foods. Too fattening." Susan giggled, her blonde curls shaking a bit as she pushed her plate away from her and began massaging the back of her man's neck with her hands as he read the neat writing on the note that had been addressed to him.
"A pity," Annabelle said as she took a sip of wine and set the glass down neatly on the table, "but I suppose women in your old line of work aren't used to such refined tastes. What does Mr. Ming want from you, Dutch?"
"He cordially invites me to meet with him tonight at his gambling hall. But I don't suppose you'd be willing to let me out of this den of gluttony and sin, unleashed and unguarded. I've been going a little stir crazy these last few days." He tossed the invitation on the table at her, Johnson curled his hand into a fist but Annabelle held up her hand and the bodyguard continued to stare irritatedly at Dutch.
"How interesting. Though, I would leave your friends safe and sound at home if you do decide to venture out tonight. I'll have O'Shea bring your weaponry to you and you can slip out for a pleasurable evening in town. No guards, no escort, you can roam about as unfettered as you'd like. Mr. Ming is a rather paranoid man, but I suppose anyone would be given that you've earned a reputation from poisoning a man you were working for. His men have a taste for soft, plump, white dumplings like the one teasing you under the table," Annabelle raised her eyebrows and Susan removed her hand from Dutch's thigh and scowled at her, "wouldn't want to watch a bunch of chinamen taking your sweetheart for a ride now, would you?"
"I can handle myself just fine, I'm not some milk drinking cunt like you. I know how to protect myself." Susan snarled and Annabelle lifted her wine glass, examining the beverage for a moment before taking a long drink from it and setting it down again. She dabbed her mouth with a pressed white napkin, removing the small magenta stains from the corners of her lips.
"She's far more capable than you could ever be." Dutch sneered as he traced Susan's neck with his finger tips.
"Miss Annabelle," Arthur interrupted the awkward silence between them as Dutch and Annabelle stared coldly at one another for a while, "would it be alright if I sent my girl a letter?"
"Of course, sweetheart. Though I admit I'm rather surprised by you Mr. Morgan. Have you learned to read and write? Well, you could read a little but writing wasn't something you really enjoyed doing." Annabelle smiled, her cold disposition seemed to melt away as she turned her attention to Arthur and Hosea. She seemed kind, gentle, and even a little chipper as she began to converse with them. Dutch had a fleeting flashback of their little one night stand, uncomfortably trying to put her out of his mind as he watched her interact with his boys.
"His penmanship is barely legible, he's no poet or anything but I suppose if you squint a bit…" Hosea chuckled and the young woman giggled as Arthur blushed a little. Her dark brown curls bounced a little as she blushed slightly. She brushed stray hair out of her eyes with her long slender fingers and tucked it behind her ear.
"I'm gettin' a little better. Though, I dunno what to write to Mary. We got into a bit of a…disagreement over somethin' stupid." Arthur grumbled meekly.
"Use as much of the thick fancy as you'd like and all the ink you need in the office, Mr. Morgan. Just be careful not to smudge the ink before it dries and hand your letter to any of the staff here and I'll make sure it's delivered. There's also some wax seals inside the desk in the middle drawer, if you want to get real romantic with sealing the envelope. I'm sure Mr. Van der Linde can help you conduct a proper love letter." She finished her wine, dabbed the corners of her mouth as her bodyguard leaned forward to help her out of her seat. "Oh one more thing…"
She turned her attention back to Dutch and Susan and smirked, carefully retrieving her gloves from the table and folding them over one of her wrists.
"The neighbors have complained of the sounds of someone butchering a hog above them in the middle of the night. If you could keep the volume of your spirited lovemaking down, Mr. and Mrs. Walters would sincerely appreciate it. And if you find yourself in need of something to keep the stork from gracing my rooftops, I suggest seeking the services of Doc Yannick, sister. The world doesn't need more poor peasant boys, not that your beau has a paternal bone in his body anyway." She snorted and turned away from them, causing Hosea and Arthur to chuckle a bit as the color drained from Susan's face and Dutch snarled.
—-
The gambling hall was a converted warehouse, with two men with shaved heads save for a single long braid falling past their shoulders. Dutch showed them the invitation and they opened the door and allowed him inside.
It was packed, hot and loud. The dealers, Dutch noted as one of the men escorted him towards the back of the building, were all women. Dressed in next to nothing, their lingerie like garments barely leaving anything to the imagination as they played games with man different kinds of men. There were high roller tables, with men and their escorts dressed in fine evening attire, drinking champagne from crystal glasses. Lower stakes tables where dock workers, hard working men, and the lowly peons of society sat. It was a true melting pot, he thought, though the stark contrast between the 'haves and have nots' was obvious. Yet it seemed to him that here, while the men separated themselves by social class, they seemed perfectly content to sit near one another or occasionally indulge in idle conversation.
Eventually he found himself outside a dark door, a hidden room in the back with some kind of red paper around the door frame with gold characters. His escort opened it and he stepped inside. There were six chairs but only four men sitting at the table so far, and he eyed them each very carefully as a woman pulled a chair out and bade him to sit. He sat and went to adjust his gun belt when the girl leaned down and tried to undo the buckle. He grabbed her wrist as one of the men looked up from his hand.
"No weapons, Mr. Van der Linde. This is neutral territory. Let her take your weapon." The voice belonged to a rather young man, Chinese clearly but he spoke very softly and with almost no accent. His dark brown eyes fixated on Dutch who held his hands up and let the girl remove his gun belt.
"How do I know you're not going to kill me?" He raised an eyebrow as the other four men snickered. There was Graves, who he recognized from his time with Macguire. An older hispanic man with a thick black mustache dressed in clothes meant for a vaquero. Mr. Ming in his red and gold silk suit. And another more familiar face who set his cards down and tipped his top hat to Dutch, Trelawny.
"In this room, we are all friends Mr. Van der Linde. Regardless of the circumstances of our birth or the fortunes or misfortunes life has thrown at us, we are all equal men here." Trelawny picked up his cards again, twisting his mustache with his fingertips.
"Mr. Trelawny, what a pleasant and unexpected surprise." Dutch smiled as the men finished their hand, the woman who had taken his gun earlier went and took a seat on Mr. Ming's lap as Trelawny pushed the chips towards the vaquero who had won the round with two pair.
"Would you care for a drink, Mr. Van der Linde?" Ming asked, waving his hand at a woman who was tending a small bar on the other side of the room.
"Considering the way I disposed of Mr. Macguire, what makes you believe I'd be willing to imbibe?" Dutch chuckled and Ming and the other men shot him a look as the door opened and Dutch immediately recognized the clicking heels on the wood.
"This is a civilized meeting between our noble factions, Mr. Van der Linde. You're quite safe from harm." Annabelle lifted her skirt a little and retrieved the revolver strapped to her thigh and held it out for one of the girls to take. She went to drop the dress when Trelawny cleared his throat and shot her a look, still curling his mustache.
"And the little one hidden between your breasts, Miss Annabelle. Or did you think we'd forget?" He raised an eyebrow and she smiled, reaching down between her bosom and retrieving a small single shot pistol and holding it out.
"Mr. Trelawny, nothing gets past you, does it?" She almost seemed to scowl before she went and took the empty seat next to Dutch and removed her black velvet gloves and set them nearly next to her on the round table.
"Champagne?" Ming raised an eyebrow at her and she shook her head, pushing her curls onto her back as the girl on Ming's lap began to deal out cards to all of them.
"No, I think I'll have that sweet milky rice wine your people are so fond of. What's it called again?" She retrieved her two cards and avoided looking at Dutch entirely who was scowling at her.
"Choujiu." Ming replied quietly and Annabelle nodded as she set her cards down and gently picked up her chips, letting a few fall as she took the amount she wanted and tossed it into the middle of the table.
"You can leave the bottle." she leaned back as the girl brought over a small crystal glass that smelled sweet, yet made Dutch sick a little to look at it, as it was milky white and seemed thick. The girl left the bottle behind and looked back at Ming who called Annabelle's wager.
"A drink, Mr. Van der Linde?" He bit his lower lip as he lifted a small round teacup from a wooden platform next to him and took a sip.
"I'm fine, thank you." Dutch replied as Graves folded his hand and he waited for the hispanic next to him to decide whether or not to call.
"Rather rude to not accept a drink from a generous host, sir." Graves sneered and lifted his whisky glass before taking a sip, "Or are you afraid our host is gonna slip oleander extract into your beverage?"
"Graves, don't taunt the man. Or he might take that knife stashed in his boot and sink it between your eyes." Annabelle murmured, delicately lifting the glass of her rice wine and taking a sip.
"Madam, I'd rather bury it in your neck." Dutch hissed as he leaned down to pull the folded knife out of his black boots and held it out for the girl to take from him.
"Where would we be without love, gentlemen." Trelawny gestured at Dutch and Annabelle as the vaquero tossed his bet to call and it was Dutch's turn.
"Love." Dutch chuckled, "I'd love to wrap my hands around your pretty little neck. I dream of it sometimes, you know. Watching you struggle for air, feeling that little vein in your neck kicking against my fingers–"
"Mr. Van der Linde," Ming interrupted, "there will be none of that sort of conversation here. The only reason I invited you here, to indulge in friendly conversation and card games, is because according to her…you're worthy of sitting at this table. You took out one of our own, Mr. Van der Linde. You could be a rich man if you play your cards right."
"I don't work under anyone, sir. I am free. I go where I please, do what I please, and have a code I live by. The oleander incident was a, miscalculation, on my part. Macguire was not my intended target." Dutch called the bet and the girl laid out three cards, carefully flipping them up to be viewed one at a time.
"Didn't you beat, torture, and rape the poor woman two years ago? You and your little crew?" The vaquero sneered, "A code. He fancies himself a gentleman."
"Juan, I assure you the rumors of my ruin have been grossly exaggerated over the course of time. I would apologize to you, Mr. Van der Linde, for not setting the record straight sooner but…" Annabelle pulled out several golden chips and piled them neatly before sliding them into the middle of the table. "I like watching that little vein in your forehead throb when you're angry. You see boys, the truth is we made passionate love to one another and in the morning I tied him up like a bounty and robbed the man while he writhed around naked trying to free himself. Oh, the look on Mr. Matthews and Mr. Morgans face was probably priceless. Watching the Prince of the Sherwood forest flail around like a bull tied to his own cot."
"I've met toothless whores who know how to actually pleasure a man, instead that god awful performance you gave me when you put me in your mouth." Dutch hissed, bristling a bit as it became Ming's turn.
"Oh? I seem to recall you shaking like an autumn leaf, Mr. Van der Linde. But what's done is done, right? You've got yourself a nice busty whore to keep your bed warm. Gentlemen, are we going to argue about my sexual prowess or are we going to discuss business? There is money to be made in Saint Denis, Mr. Van der Linde, the question I'd ask yourself is whether you want to take a piece of the prize for yourself and your little band of merry men or not." Annabelle took another drink of her rice wine and set an elbow on the table.