Chapter 8
A Good Thief
"Son of a bitch! The stink of this place..." A somewhat round and portly fellow stepped off the train and announced for all the world to hear. His hands thrown at his sides up in the air. A smartly worn blue coat along his torso with equally fine pants and a pocket watch chain glinting golden that ran from his vest into one of the pockets on full display.
"What did you expect?" Another, darker toned man wondered with a sour look to him. His face etched in lines long made from what one could imagine to be endless grimacing. He wore a bowler on his head and an equally fine dark suit. While a third unspoken, younger seeming, man followed after. No suit, but an opened vest running down his shoulders, a white clean shirt, and dark pants of his own as his attire. All three men wore clean and shining black shoes meant more for city life than the country. Indeed all three of them stuck out...that is if Valentine were not already flush with such folks of late. Bounty Hunters, Pinkertons, and personal security for Cornwall Kerosene and Tar. Among other sort...
The first portly man stepped down off the train fully with a grunt. Followed swiftly by the other two. In his right hand a suitcase. While his two companions sported clear gun holsters with revolvers.
"This shit-hole...how long are we to wait here for?"
"Don't ask stupid questions you already know the answer to." The second dark man grumbled.
"A few days is no clear marker, Antonio."
"Two days." The dark man, Antonio, repeated with exasperation.
"Two days. Right two days. Well, we best get situated! Come along you two. We should find a hotel among the mud and hicks."
"He's one to talk." The third, previously unspoken man intoned towards Antonio.
"Tell me about it. Let's just...get this over with."
"How long 'till the train comes 'round this way?"
"Same time. We do the hand off outside of town, and then we head back. Signore Bronte wants this done quietly, and quickly. Outside the city. None of Magliano's men to see."
"Right." The third man nodded absently as Antonio explained. The three moving up the main road deeper into the small town.
"You see that fat bastard yet? Who's with him?" Carlos whispered as he and Ruggero laid down on their stomachs, their heads and shoulders propped up by their elbows pressed into the dirt. They found themselves on the cliffs due east of Valentine, right next to the town past some trees. No one would have need, one could imagine and hope as both men did, to look their way, and their view was open enough to get decent enough line of sight on the train station.
"That's definitely Greco. Looks like he has...Antonio Dimino from Martelli's crew with him."
"Anyone else?" Carlos wondered lowly as Ruggero angled his elbows on the ground looking through a pair of binoculars they had bought from the General Store in town.
"Why in God's name are you whispering?" Ruggero wondered.
"I...we...shut up!" Carlos scoffed. "Who the hell else is there?! Anyone?"
"Yeah yeah, I see Johnny Megna."
"Megna...Megna…"
"He's the one from downtown. Works with Salvatore Calli in-"
"Oh damn!" Carlos made a snapping motion with his fingers. "Right that little shit who shot one of Nolan Coughlan's goons on Bordeaux Avenue a year or so back?"
"The same." Ruggero nodded. "The Micks haven't forgiven Bronte for protecting him."
"Wish we could gut him here and now. Would go a long way towards ingratiating ourselves with the Paddies. Well the Coughlan Boys anyways."
"Well...if we get the chance."
"We'll see." Carlos nodded. "Alright what about Greco? He carrying anything?"
"Yep, got a suitcase, or bag, something. Seems to be holding it pretty tightly."
"Probably shitting himself thinking about what will happen if he loses it here in a cow-town."
"Sheep."
"You catch my meaning." Carlos shook his head while Ruggero chuckled lowly.
"I do...alright, well, they're here. Next move?"
"Next move?" Carlos repeated and pushed off the ground. Dusting himself of the powdery dirt from the cliffs as he did. Ruggero followed. Swinging his shotgun back over his shoulder as he did so.
"Next move is to go and meet ourselves more of this outlaw gang."
"Hopefully they're all as amenable as your cowboy and Mr. Matthews were."
"I think we'll be fine. So long as both them boys are present when we make our proposal. We walk our asses over there with nobody to back us up they'd probably get...skittish."
"True. That's what I'm afraid of." Ruggero sighed. Carlos beamed another smirk and pat his back. A fine cloud of dust rising off him as he did.
"Chin up, brother, we'll be fine! I got a -"
"Good feeling about this, I know. You get to hold that one over me because it worked out last time. Just wait until we have a colossal shit-show on our hands, then I can lord that over you."
"Non essere così acido!" (Don't be so sour!) - Carlos waved him down. "We'll be fine. But, we best get this started and done as soon as can be. The quicker we can take care of this business, the sooner we're back in Saint Denis. The less time Angelo has to think it was us who had anything to do with the mess his men fell into up this way."
"He will all the same."
"Like I said, he will. He'll want to assume we had something to do with it, but if we send some of his men back with clear indication it weren't some fellow Italians then he'll have less...capacity to set the city on fire. His captains won't want war, neither will any of the other clans we both do business with if there isn't clear sign we did anything." Carlos waved Ruggero after him. The two moving back from the cliff side to make their way down a more slanted hill they could easily move down.
"Will Angelo make moves? Yes. Will there be some damage sent our way? Yes. Which is why we need Niccolò and the rest to be ready for any bullshit that may eh...ignite. More likely, Angelo will seek vengeance up this way. If he thinks outlaws, bandits, and the sort were the ones to take what was his, intentional or not, he will look for blood. Especially to save face."
"You gonna tell your new friends about that?"
"Of course." Carlos nodded. "The last thing we should do is appear like we're using them."
"Ain't we?"
"In a manner. A sense? Sure. But, we all use everyone for something. They, for their efforts are going to be paid. So we are using them, for their skills and capabilities."
"Alright." Ruggero shrugged and followed after Carlos. Midday began to wane as the sun loomed overhead. The two began the trek from Valentine to where they were told to go just due south near some more cliffs among a thick line of trees.
"Coming in!" Arthur called out to whoever the guard on duty was. 'Least for this side of the camp entrance. He and Hosea moved their way up the trail. At their combined right they saw John holding a carbine repeater. Wearing that brown jacket of his and still looking a little beat up. Them scars on his face healing, but a bit puffy and red.
"Welcome home you two."
"Evening, John." Hosea nodded as he passed by on Silver Dollar.
"Golden Boy! Keeping things safe around here?"
"Doing my best. We can't all go on hunting trips and enjoy ourselves like you, Arthur."
"Well...guess you're right." Arthur chuckled as he passed by. Hosea jumped off Silver Dollar and led the Turkoman to the little glade beside the hitching posts where some of the horses grazed. Arminius, Arthur tied to the post. Still thinking the big feller needed some time to get used to the camp, the horses and everyone else. Jumping off the gray brute, he patted his neck and the horse whirled his head happily.
"There, boy. Here, have this." Arthur produced a wild carrot he had found along the way with Hosea. A few sniffs and the horse eagerly ate up, Arthur chuckling deep and low as he did.
"Good boy."
"Ah, getting him situated still?" Hosea wandered over.
"Yeah. He's getting there. I think he'll be happy enough with the other horses in no time. Well, one can hope."
"I should think you're right. Thanks for coming with me, Arthur."
"You mean, 'thanks for saving my life, Arthur,' that?"
"Well, I wasn't going to repeat myself, but sure! Thanks for saving this old man's life from an early passing by a mean bastard like that bear!"
"You're quite welcome, Hosea. Quite welcome." Hosea and Arthur shared a laugh. Both a little wheezy as they did so. All the same, they broke free of Arminius who stood lounging for now.
"What you gonna do?"
"Me?" Hosea repeated. "Ah well, I'll take the rest of the day here. Rest up a bit, read a book. Then tomorrow I'm going to head out. I heard tale talked by some fellers I met on the road of some business at that strange little ranch out east, Emerald Ranch I believe it's called."
"Anything good?"
"Not sure yet." Hosea hummed as the two gingerly paced nearer Dutch's ever lavish tent. Well...comparatively so.
"Could be nothing. You know how stories told by strangers met on the road are."
"You rob 'em?"
"Who, me?!" Hosea heaved as though insulted. Arthur raised an eyebrow, and the old man broke into another smirk. Them old eyes twinkling as he did so.
"Perhaps...maybe a few little things."
"There he is." Arthur chortled and pat the old man's shoulder. Feeling quite content in the moment. His own eyes fluttered through the camp. Noticing Pearson wasn't at the food wagon, probably sat at the main campfire. Along with distantly seen Herr Strauss. Those beady eyes dancing over that book of his. Memory fluttered to Arthur's mind of that little...meeting he had had with them Italian fellers again just yesterday morning at Downes Ranch.
"Well, if you'd excuse me, Hosea. I gotta drop off Herr Strauss' money."
"Of course. Good work, Arthur. All things considered and well...you understand."
"I do. Rest up old man."
"Bah, the young!" Hosea waved him off as both shared a parting laugh. Arthur moved on by Dutch's tent. Sat at his little seat and facing Arthur was the man himself. His black coat off, his red and white bandanna laid around his neck, and the rest of them clothes of his looking well kempt.
"I thought I heard you two making your way back in, son!" Dutch began without even turning his head up. His eyes scanned a final line or two in one of them Evelyn Miller books he was fond of before he closed it with a sort of happy finality to the gesture. He wouldn't need something to keep his place, Dutch would remember it just fine.
"How you two get on with that hunt? Catch yourself a bear?" Dutch chuckled as Arthur came to a stop. Gripping his belt as he shrugged.
"Nah. Well, we did find the beast, and that thing...was a monster! Huge! Bigger than even I dared imagine. Thought it was gonna strip the meat off Hosea's bones."
"I heard that!" Hosea called from the spot he shared with Lenny and Bill. Speaking of which…
"Has anyone heard from Lenny or Micah yet?"
"No." Dutch simply shrugged. "I don't think so. But, I'm not too worried. Not yet 'least. Them boys can more than handle themselves. They wander, like you, son. But eventually everyone comes home."
"I ain't too sure about Lenny wandering much. Micah...well the more he wanders the better. Best he just go on and get gone!"
"Arthur."
"What?" He smirked as Dutch shook his head.
"Some of the best men I have and you two can't get on."
"Best men? Micah ain't much more than a lunatic in my mind, Dutch."
"You ain't seen the heart I've seen! The man that lays beneath the surface, Arthur. Few men can see what others have in themselves. Too often told what they are, who they are, and how things will be by government men, civilized men!" Dutch wagged his right hand with pointed finger about. Jutting it frantically across the whole world in accusation.
"Micah is just like all the rest in this here camp, Arthur! A lost soul who was given no direction and had no hope for himself nor this unhappy world. But together? As a community, we can achieve great things. Do great things, imagine greater things! Unlike those rich men, and them folk who live by feeding off what scraps they lay down and all the rest besides – we can think and imagine, and dream, Arthur. That's the difference! That which is most beautiful." Dutch pat his temple with his index finger. The ring upon it seeming to almost glint a little brighter as he did.
Arthur knew damn well he had unleashed the dreamer inside Dutch again. Not on purpose, but here he was. Talking as he talked. Arthur wasn't one to believe too strongly in them dreams as Dutch did. But, he had to admit there was always some frantic strength, and some power that Dutch had when he went on a tirade such as he did from time to time.
Maybe them as could dream like Dutch were truly the great ones? Maybe, but Arthur imagined...or thought really, of himself as realistic. These modern times weren't kind to them as lived lives as outlaws and thieves in the West. The world didn't want outlaws running about the continent stirring up trouble no more. Maybe worse still for Dutch, they didn't like his kind neither. Them dreaming sorts who had grand visions of things as they ought be, or wanted them to ought be rather than as they was.
Pretty dreams, as Mary had said once or twice before.
"I hear ya', Dutch." Arthur nodded. Times like these he often found himself without much to say. Best to agree with Dutch and let him spout his ideals. They led the camp, as much as Dutch himself led the gang. He had never led them astray thus far...Arthur would hold to that.
"You hear me, son. But as soon as you believe me, you'll see." Dutch smiled with that wild, manic even, knowing glint to him. Those almost lordly features that sculpted his face held that posture of sureness. Hell of a thing. Arthur was almost jealous one could be so damn sure of themselves even in the face of a world unwilling to help you support them ideas and dreams. That was one of Dutch's strengths and powers.
"That said," Arthur continued. "I still ain't gonna be sad if Micah disappears."
"Oh you two." Dutch shook his head again.
"I am worried about Lenny. If he ain't back by tomorrow I say we go looking for him."
"Hmm, if you think it would be best."
"Sure." Arthur nodded. Happy enough to have Dutch's consent as much as one could read from what he had said.
"Oh and Dutch,"
"Yes, dear boy?"
"I collected that last loan for Strauss. That fool went and gave money to a feller that had no damn way of paying it off with all them as he owed money too."
"You got the money?"
"I did." Arthur nodded. "But, not from them. Those fellers, the Italian ones bought their land from under the family and repaid the debts."
"Well…" Dutch hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose all is well that ends well, son."
"Yeah but these jobs...sharking...I don't like it."
"I know. But it does pay."
"I can make more than enough money to cover the 'costs' that Strauss forces onto others. Anyone of these fools can pull a heist of a simple stage moving through the Heartlands and get more money than...than Strauss makes in a goddamn month!"
"Hmm…" Dutch grumbled. Not heartlessly. He averted his gaze with an all too familiar thoughtfulness to his manner. Arthur knew Dutch weren't one to like Strauss' business all too much neither...heck Dutch weren't much a fan of Strauss in general. But if their conversation just prior was any indication, Dutch must've seen something in Strauss. Weaselly little Austrian that he were.
"As well he's gone and made enemies with them boys."
"What boys?"
"The Italians."
"How so, exactly?" Dutch pressed. A new sharpness to his tone. Cautious and as protective of those as were 'his' so to speak.
"The one that paid us for the work, Carlos, he don't like loan sharks. If it weren't for me going Strauss could've gotten himself shot dead."
"And…?"
"Well it isn't a big deal now. I more or less settled things with them, and they paid. Just saying, Strauss can and has pulled in the wrong sort on us. If he irritates the wrong folk he could be more trouble than he's worth."
"Usually he only loans out to those who ain't much for fighting."
"I'd pretend that weren't part of my problem with the man, but-"
"No...I know." Dutch sighed. His eyes narrowed sharply. Thoughts passed unshared with Arthur as Dutch leaned forward in his seat. Another moment and a cool breeze fluttered by, before he clicked his tongue and nodded.
"I won't say we'll stop Strauss from doing his work going forward, but...for the time being, I'll have him pull back."
"Best tell him if he gets into it with folks like them fellers I won't be there every time to pull his ass out of the fire."
"I'm the intermediary now?"
"Sure." Arthur shrugged and Dutch chuckled that familiar almost dark sort of chortle of his. Just his manner.
"Alright Arthur, alright. Go put what's owed in the box and be done with this. For now. Good work, overall."
"Of course." Arthur nodded and did as told. Rounding the tent to drop off the money paid up by Carlos on behalf of the Downes family. Where would they go now? Arthur supposed it weren't his concern. Sick bastard...poor bastard and his wife soon to be widow and the boy. Ah hell, good luck to 'em.
"Hey there, Arthur." Turning towards the main campfire, Arthur indeed saw Pearson sat with Uncle, of course, and Charles. Javier was off somewhere, so it seemed, while Swanson was passed out at his bedroll. For the best considering what nonsense he could get up to. Had gotten up to at that.
"Charles." Arthur nodded in greeting. "Apologies for disappearing yesterday. Got wrapped up with Hosea and that hunt I promised him before that wagon train."
"No problem. I caught more than enough yesterday for everyone. Though you do owe me." He smirked as he sharped his blade.
"I do. Thanks again. I'll head out in a few and see what I can get. The Heartlands near have plenty of pronghorn and deer."
"That all you two know? Pronghorn and deer, pronghorn and deer!" Uncle chimed in, beer bottle in hand.
"Venison is more than enough good eating, Uncle." Pearson idled as he stuck a stick into the fire.
"That's the problem with you fools. All of ya'! No damn variety in your sad lives! You get a deer and that's all you damn well get for nigh on a year! Add some variety, some expanse to your ideas! Do something different from time to time! Same thing with how you rob. Just damn repetition."
"Coming from you, Uncle?! That's rich!" Arthur hacked a laugh. "You sit here in camp all damn day, every damn day, drinking and shooting shit! You ain't got a unique bone in that body, you old parasite!"
"Now there's no need for that type of language, Arthur Morgan! I have done my time and seen more than quite enough of the world. Food, women, and especially my drinks!"
"Sure, just for you Uncle I will head out and find me some food befitting a man of your...station." Arthur hummed, and scratched his chin. "I'm thinking maybe I find some pigs."
"Pigs, boars would be more than-"
"So I can feed you to them, old man! The hell is wrong with you? Complaining about the food when you don't do nothing to catch or buy any."
"It's the-"
"Don't…" Arthur raised a cautionary finger as Charles shook his head, happily listening but not engaging. "Don't you dare say it. I don't wanna hear another word about this 'condition' Uncle." The older man scoffed. Seeming to take the threat in stride.
"The youth these days. Nary a hope for them to learn from them as have learned plenty."
"You've certainly learned a lot. Like how to cling to anyone and everyone as so that you survive on their blood, sweat and tears. You are a parasite!"
"He has you there, Uncle." Pearson chortled.
"Now don't you go and help this poor young deluded fool! The last thing he needs is anyone feeding into these delusions. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you're a sick man, Arthur Morgan. It's all bad for him and his brain."
"No Uncle, that would be you. Endless bullshit that comes crawling out your mouth, I mean. One of these days I will make you go on a job again and earn your goddamn keep!"
"You know, Arthur Morgan, you certainly know how to raise the mood 'round here, don't you?" Uncle hummed, seemingly unfazed, and taking a hearty swig of his bottle.
"Best keep to yourself on matters that don't concern you, old man. I'll hunt whatever I goddamn well please to hunt, and knowing you, you'll eat more than your fair share."
"Sad man, Arthur Morgan, sad man." Uncle shook his head. Forlorn for whoever the hell knew what! Only in his mind did he make sense, so Arthur thought.
"Best to go hunting soon, Arthur." Charles finally began again. "The sooner you do the sooner you won't have to listen to him talk."
"See, now that's some prime wisdom, Arthur! You should listen to Charles more."
"Goddamn parasite…" Arthur growled, readying for another round of barbs…
"Arthur!"
At hearing his name called from damn clear across the camp, Charles, Pearson and Uncle all also looked or turned up. It was Marston and his damn scratchy voice bleating for him.
"The hell that fool want?" Arthur wondered with a gruff sigh. "Excuse me, gentlemen." He bid the rest farewell even as they still seemed dully interested in all the sudden fuss. Arthur rounded Dutch's tent from the side nearest his wagon and marched passed John's tent. Stood near the table was Hosea looking out towards the main entrance of the camp. While John was stood with his back to the camp. His rifle aimed down sights at someone unseen.
"The hell is going on?"
"I don't know." Hosea replied. Dutch, for his part stood from his seat and came over. His eyes narrowed defensively.
"Arthur, get over here!"
"Alright, Marston! Quiet down." He intoned more to himself. Eyeing both Hosea and Dutch a final time, Arthur moved up.
"What's with the howling, Marston?"
"You know these fools?" He didn't really answer.
"What?" Arthur began, but as he reached John's side, he stopped himself. Coming to a full stop, brow furrowing as he saw...them goddamn Italian fellers again!
"Ah there you are, Arthur!" Carlos began. His hands raised up and that dumb smirk on his face. The big bastard, Ruggero, stood unfazed by John's trained rifle. His shotgun slung over his shoulder still. His own eyes tracing the camp even from a distance. A clearer line of sight with how damn big he was.
"What in the hell...how did…" Arthur began taking a step nearer. "How the hell you two know where our camp was?" A bit gruffer than he had earnestly intended to sound, Arthur nonetheless let himself appear all the meaner. The less people knew where they were the better. Even if these fellers paid well, and he more or less got on with them, it wasn't exactly ideal to let their sorts know where they were. Who knew who could or would talk if the need demanded it? All the same, it weren't Carlos who spoke, but Ruggero.
"No offense, Cowboy, but you and yours aren't exactly as hard to find as you would like to assume you all are."
"What's that mean, exactly?" Arthur grumbled, but Carlos stepped forward, hands still up.
"As much as I would love to explain that to you, I would much prefer we do so without your friend here aiming a carbine at us."
"Why shouldn't I, friend?" John wondered pointedly.
"Well precisely! We're friends, are we not, Mr. Morgan?"
"I wouldn't exactly say that." Arthur answered bluntly, though honestly. To which Carlos grinned all the more broadly.
"Arthur, John...what's...ah I see." Hosea had moved up. Upon seeing the two Italians he nodded. Though he also spoke low and carefully. Himself all too aware like Arthur of the potential problem they were now potentially faced with.
"I must say I hadn't expected to see you two again after our business concluded." Hosea went on. "That was until Arthur mentioned his meeting with you yesterday I believe?"
"That it was, Mr. Matthews." Carlos nodded. "A pleasure to see you again, and in good health. I was hoping to meet with you and Arthur again. Seeing as the both of you are...amenable. Plus, with the last job being done so well I figured I should spend where I know I'm getting my money's worth."
"I see." Hosea nodded. The heaviness among those from the camp strangely seeming to not stir the two Italians. Which only made for a curious sort of thickness in the air. Felt and unfelt at once. Unclear who was feeling what.
Arthur, for his part, passed his eyes from Hosea, to John and then to Ruggero. Much as he had no reason to think either of these fellers couldn't be a threat of their own...he had more reason to be concerned about the big bastard between the two.
"Look," Carlos continued, taking a gingerly step nearer now his own. John remained fixed and angled the carbine again. "I understand that this may seem...come si dice…?" (How do you say?) - Carlos turned to Ruggero.
"Startling?"
"Yes! Startling!" Carlos chortled. "Our appearance, but I can assure you and yours we mean no harm. Of course, if we did, you could more than easily kill us both I am sure. Seeing as there's doubtless more than a few perfectly capable men among this group and camp…"
"I suppose so." Hosea agreed. "It sure would be a shame if things came to such over misunderstandings, as it were."
"Of course." Carlos agreed. He cocked his brow and shook his hands. An unspoken question aimed at everyone. Arthur, for his part eyed the feller a moment longer, before gruffly, sighing at that, pressed his left hand atop John's carbine and pushed it down. John eyed him, but didn't say anything. Letting Arthur push it down. Carlos laughed again and placed his thumbs into the pockets of his pants.
"See? Consider it payback for yesterday, Cowboy!"
"What?" John wondered, but Arthur waved him down.
"Don't worry about it. John, this is uh Carlos, and the big one here is Ruggero. These are the Italian fellers who paid us for the wagon train."
"Ah!" Carlos continued beaming as he trained on John. "You were one of them that went with the Cowboy on the job?"
"I suppose. You the feller with all the money that's too easily spent?"
"I suppose." Carlos repeated John's line. The scarred man scoffing a sort of half-laugh.
"What's your story?" John turned to Ruggero.
"Story?"
"Yeah, story?"
"Don't got one. I go where I'm told and where I'm led. Consider me a draft horse."
"Huh...I see. I think." John nodded.
"Now boys," Arthur, John and Hosea twisted where they stood as Dutch's scratchy, but somehow regal, voice began and the slinking of his spurs sounded as he neared. "Are you going to leave me out of this little meeting, or what?" Dutch raised his arms out at his sides as he neared. That familiar jovial manner to his voice whenever he met someone new. Especially those as he imagined were to be played. Be it they end up friend or foe, regardless.
"Hello, sir!" Carlos grinned wider. Stepping between John and Arthur who both grumbled a little under their breaths. "You must be the famous Dutch van der Linde I've read so much on these past few days!"
"Ho ho, famous?!" Dutch began as he reached out and took Carlos' extended hand. The men sharing a hearty shake. "I wouldn't say that, exactly. Infamous maybe! It depends on who you ask, I reckon."
"I am sure, sir, I am sure!" Carlos chortled right along with Dutch. A similar sort of...energy about the two noticeable by all. By Arthur certainly, at least.
"Forgive my manners, I am Calogero Magliano, though those I allow may call me Carlos, so feel free, sir. And this here is my friend, confident, and...all around big mean looking son of a bitch, Ruggero Buonoparte!"
"Bonaparte...?" Dutch began and Arthur felt a thin, unnoticeable smile crawl onto his face as he saw Ruggero's eyes shut and the lids flutter.
"Like the French Emperor, yes, sir." Ruggero grunted.
"Forgive him, he's worse at manners than me, and...sensitive about his regal name."
"Oh well that's nothing but unfortunate, son! It's a good name, good name indeed!" Dutch assured Ruggero who remained silent and sighed a grumbling exhale.
"Well," Dutch carried on as a sort of small circle formed here on the outskirts of the camp proper. "It is nice to finally meet the two who paid so...handsomely for a job well done. All things considered I mean."
"Certainly, Mr. Van der Linde, certainly. Your boys proved quite useful. You and your gang are quite...reputable. It was some sort of strange dumb luck we crossed paths when we did. Though in truth I did see you from a distance some days back. Right after Arthur here got into that little bar brawl that carried on out into the muddy street."
"Weren't my fault, I was defending myself!"
"Of course you were, Arthur." Hosea added, patting his shoulder. "One can never get into too many bar brawls. Builds...something, not sure if character would necessarily be the word."
"I'm sure you can imagine something, Hosea." Arthur shook his head as the elder man laughed at his expense. Matching Dutch and Carlos' energy as the prior heaviness ebbed. Common goddamn feature whenever these two showed up in Arthur's short experience with 'em.
"Hmm." Dutch hummed. "Weren't too clear to me until after the fact how open we were at the time. Not exactly my best moment."
"We all have bad moments, Mr. Van der Linde." Carlos assured. "Better us lowdown guineas, as some would call us, than say those Pinkertons and bounty hunters you and your lot have itching to scratch at ya!'"
"Ain't that the truth." Dutch chortled. "Nothing like fellow degenerates to make you feel safe from the law!"
"Hah!" Carlos barked a laugh shared with Dutch. John turning to eye Arthur who shrugged. The men seeing that the matched energy of the two men was flowing, feeding off one another and being sent back quite easily.
"Introductions aside," John butted in. "How did you fellers know where our camp was?"
"It's a good question." Arthur concurred.
"I told you yesterday we'd find you for this chat, Arthur."
"Yeah and I thought you meant somewhere...not here! In town, Valentine, or something."
"I believe we told you not to go into Valentine if you could afford not to, as well." Carlos motioned his hand between himself and Ruggero.
"Well...yes you did...I suppose I hadn't thought about it that far."
"Wouldn't be the first time, my friend." Hosea chuckled again.
"Yes, why thank you, Hosea. Glad to be so...predictable."
"Now don't go being so sour, son! There's no point in it now." Dutch cut back in.
"It's a fair question, though. Ruggero?" Carlos motioned to the big man again.
"There's plenty of people in Valentine who mention 'itinerant workers' hereabouts. You pay one of them fools a couple bucks, especially the drunken ones looking to get drunker, and they spill more than you'd like." Ruggero easily announced. Both Dutch and Hosea shared similar expressions of unease. Their cover story...not dissected or nothing, but that there was those in town who knew roughly where the camp of such 'workers' was, was concerning.
"Goddammit…" Arthur intoned as John just shook his head. Arthur could guess to the disparaging thoughts rummaging about the boy's mind.
"And these boastful sorts…?" Hosea wondered after.
"They truly thought you folk to be these workers, I should think. They also weren't exactly keen on all the bounty hunters and such in town." Ruggero offered with a shrug. "My sense of them is that they may squeal but only after they're given good enough reason to. So far you lot have been low key enough I think you should be fine. Though, that's just my uneducated guess."
"He's paid to worry." Carlos intoned and leaned towards Dutch. "I trust this big fool with my life, but I also think he worries a little too much for everyone else."
"One can hope." Dutch hummed a little laugh. "Though that does lead into the next obvious question."
"The job?" Carlos asked what everyone already knew. "Yes I made mention of it to dear Mr. Morgan here."
"No details shared of course." Arthur retorted.
"No, no details." Carlos bowed his head. "I was still thinking things over, and the...job so to speak has only just arrived in town." Dutch cleared his throat to that.
"Well we're not in the contract killing business-"
"Oh no!" Carlos laughed him down. "No, no, no, sir! Nothing of the sort. Trust me I had this conversation with Mr. Matthews and Mr. Morgan for the last job. Even if dying did occur it was not the intent."
"True enough." Hosea agreed.
"Yep." Arthur too.
"Well...good then!" Dutch nodded. "We are in a sad state ever since recent...problems incurred to the west of here. So if there is money to be earned…"
"Yes your woes from Blackwater are well known. My people noted your gang has become quite popular among all sorts of bounty hunters, killers, and contract men from Chicago on down our way."
"And your people?"
"Saint Denis, Mr. Van der Linde." Carlos restated what Dutch knew well enough. "Largest city in these parts of the States. Home of creoles, ex-slavers and their former slaves or descendants, with plenty of northern folk of Irish, Italian and assorted stock and good ole boys!"
"It sounds awful."
"Truly, and utterly!" Carlos beamed, and Arthur could see the charm cast both ways between Dutch and him were well enough working on either from the other. Dutch too chortled a hearty healthy laugh from his chest and nodded appreciatively. Anyone who, at least respected his worldview, was sure to make inroads with old Dutch. Whether he meant it or not Arthur could see Carlos had either read Dutch well, or was of similar enough mind to worm his way past Dutch's outer defenses. Not entirely. Dutch weren't stupid...Arthur hoped sometimes. But, Carlos had made a good enough impression. For now.
"Well, if there is work in need of doing by such fine sorts let's have a talk on it! Come along my good sirs!" Dutch boasted happily and swept around. Wrapping an arm around Carlos' shoulders and leading him towards the table and seats not too far from Dutch's camp.
"This a good idea?" John intoned as he and Arthur slowly followed behind Dutch, and Hosea, Ruggero behind them.
Arthur sighed and shrugged.
"I don't know. We'll have to see what's being asked for."
"No, I mean letting these fellers into camp so openly? We don't know them all that well besides they pay for robbing well enough. Just cause they're robbing sorts don't mean they're trustworthy. Makes them even less so!" John had a point and Arthur could only cock his head in a shrug.
"We'll see, Marston. For now, just...let them have their talk."
"I guess. Just don't need anymore attention on us. Money or no money."
"I get you." Arthur agreed, but cut himself short as Dutch led Carlos to the table and offered him the seat that faced towards the camp. Small banter and chortling unheard by Arthur was shared between them as Carlos took a seat, and fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
Further in the camp, as Arthur neared the table he saw some of the others sneaking very obvious peeks at all the commotion. At Arthur's right he saw Karen down the ways at the other entrance to the camp looking through the brush. At his left Arthur caught Tilly, Mrs. Adler; who was less interested of course, along with Mary-Beth, and towards the trees thataway Charles leaning on one such trunk. He was sharpening his knife still, but Arthur knew he was watching everything closely even from a distance. Dead ahead Strauss was still off near the boulder he sat at, but had turned in his seat to watch as Grimshaw and Pearson were 'mingling' around the food wagon listening from a distance. While Abigail was all but glaring up at them all from her tent, and keeping Jack good and near herself. She was just being cautious. Arthur understood as much.
Everyone else Arthur didn't quite know where they were. In camp or otherwise.
"Take a seat, my friend! Take a seat!"
"Thank you." Carlos sat and Dutch took the opposite chair. Without bid Dutch struck a match and lit Carlos' cigarette, for which he gave a thankful hum.
"And how about your big friend here?"
"Hmm?" Carlos turned his head up as Dutch motioned to Ruggero. "Oh, heh, no. Ruggero isn't the type to sit in a place he don't know too well."
"Truly the careful sort." Dutch nodded while Ruggero said nothing. Arthur glanced over shoulder to see the big feller eyeing all the people that was eyeing him in turn. It were a little disconcerting, if that were the word, to Arthur. But, there was little the big feller could do if the camp decided he had to go. Best not have it come to that. Deaths inside the camp, even strangers weren't ideal.
"Now that we're all relatively acquainted," Dutch began again, himself fishing a cigar and lighting it with what was left of the fading match. "What work have you in mind for my boys?"
"Volunteering us, Dutch?" Arthur needled ever so softly.
"No, son, never! But, the last bit of...cooperation between fellow degenerates proved fruitful! And, it is my understanding you fellers have been keeping an eye on them sniffing about in Valentine for us?"
"More or less." Carlos took a drag and nodded.
"Not so much officially, Mr. Van der Linde." Ruggero piped up. Sounding low and gruff. "But if we're working together in any capacity the less heat and less unwanted attention drawn to y'all means equally less such drawn onto us. If we work together, we best look out for one another. Else we all get the shit."
"I like the way you think, son." Dutch concurred.
"No doubt." Arthur nodded as Hosea and John remained listening and watching. Letting Dutch take the lead as he were one to do in such cases.
"Unofficial or not, think nothing of it. We see what we see, and say what we see. But again, you folk got lots of officials and...less than officials on your asses."
"Always do." Dutch chuckled. Though internally Arthur weren't exactly sure it had always been...like this. Of late things had been harder...worse. That business in Blackwater...even now it were hard to wrap his mind around what had happened there. Bad business of course.
"Ah, but to business, eh?"
"Yes! By all means." Dutch motioned for Carlos to continue. The younger man took a long drag of his cigarette and loosed the smoke in a rattling release from past his lips.
"How familiar are you with the last job your boys pulled for me?"
"Well enough. A wagon train laden with goods and money, but most important papers. Something to do with Labor Unions. Ain't that about it, Hosea?"
"That's about right." Hosea assured.
"Basically." Carlos smiled. "Arthur here did a fine job with it. Him and whomever went with him. I know John here went, eh?" Carlos twisted in his seat. To which John just shrugged.
"I suppose I had."
"Well, it was good work. I got what I wanted, and you lot got what was offered in full. So, I hope my...credit is good 'round here."
"Well enough I should think." Arthur offered without issue from the rest.
"Good. That all said this has to do with them papers. See," Carlos leaned into the table and drew the rest nearer. Though there weren't obvious reasons why.
"Among the Labor contracts and other assorted documents concerning what matters I need attend to back down in Saint Denis there was a letter. One that was meant to be passed from the wagon train handlers to a man by the name of Tommaso Greco."
"Ain't no wagon train to be doing no hand-off now." Arthur chimed in. To which Carlos chortled a little more darkly than before, and nodded agreement.
"Very true, my friend! Which is why we...and by that I mean I, have a golden opportunity to get even more over on the unfavorable sorts I am in contention with back down in the city." Carlos offered as Hosea spoke up after.
"The very same, I presume, as is responsible for your recent Union troubles?"
"Of course, Mr. Matthews. He and all the various assorted lot of sons of bitches who want to upset my business. Well...I say I upset his instead. One of us is going to get the stiff end of things, and I much prefer it be his ass, and not mine."
"Well of course! One can certainly understand your position, Mr. Magliano." Dutch assured, all cordial and accommodating. Both he and Hosea being the open and listening sort.
"We can understand the position, but not what you need." Arthur added. "Who the hell is this Greco feller?"
"Tommaso Greco is one of about five or so men who act as an accountant on behalf of the unfavorable sorts in Saint Denis. He is a nasty piece of work, but not 'cause he is any good at handling...rougher business-"
"He's got a certain taste for causing pain." All eyes turned as Ruggero spoke up. "Greco has a reputation in town among the brothels and other such houses working women call their own."
"That's right." Carlos added with a more dour tone. "He's protected in the city and...well, outside it by the power and influence of them he works on behalf of. When Greco gets his hand on a chosen woman he likes to...hurt them more than they're necessarily paid for. Catching my meaning?"
"Ain't too nice sounding, this feller." John, of all people, intoned for all. Various agreeable nods followed.
"No, not nice at all. But, he manages books very well. Keeps track of certain incomes and outflows of cash. The wagon train you and yours hit was carrying a note of such reimbursements for them as were returning from up north. Of course...such as was left over from the bribe money now sits in this camp, I presume."
"Perhaps." Arthur chuckled. "Though I wouldn't be one to incriminate myself."
"Of course." Carlos chortled right along with Arthur.
"Well that's besides the point" He carried on. "The point is Greco is bound to be carrying with him some relief money for them boys as no longer will be needing it from the wagon train. More important to me, of course, as I am sure you can imagine-"
"More papers, huh?" Hosea caught on.
"Papers, books." Ruggero added. "Expenses and the such. Greco ain't a fool. He'll have pseudonyms and carefully chosen words in place in those books as to hide who is getting exactly what kind of money. To the unknowing eye perhaps."
"Ruggero's point is that we'd know. We have people who can discern who is getting what money. At least the money being reported in those books."
"So," Dutch began with a light grumble. He was hooked on the line, as Arthur saw it. That twinkle in his eyes sparkling as he was sure Dutch saw good money sitting somewhere just beyond this conversation. Hell, Arthur couldn't argue neither. These boys did pay.
"I reckon you want these books stolen for your own personal pleasure."
"Of course." Carlos took another drag, flicking the ash from the cigarette. "Similar to the last job. Whatever is found with the books, cash, trinkets, whatever else of value to you and yours is more than freely for the taking. I have no need for it. Those books, however, are what I want."
"And this Greco feller," John interjected himself. "Where is he?"
"Just came in off the train today in Valentine." Ruggero answered. "He along with two mean bastards from the city are supposed to wait in town and meet the wagon train after it passes through nearby country. Do the trade off and then Greco is supposed to head back up north. Other business to conduct out of state."
"Which bodes well." Carlos added.
"How you mean?" Arthur wondered.
"Well if Greco is up here that means nobody knows the wagon train was hit. At least not yet. Which should mean you folk did a clean job."
"'Suppose that does bode well." Arthur hitched a laugh. "The less trouble the better."
"Of course." Dutch nodded. "Who are these 'mean bastards?'"
"No one of any renown I'd imagine to you lot." Ruggero spoke as Carlos nodded along. "One of them is a darker skinned man by the name of Antonio Dimino. He is higher up the ranks of the organization we're opposed to, but not top dog or nothing. He's likely head of Greco's security. He's got a mean streak, but nothing I'd imagine to be so unique in the world you folk come from."
"He knows how to handle a gun?"
"Oh yeah." Carlos chuckled. "He's killed more than a few men in his time."
"With them two, though, they got a third. He is a bit more of a hothead." Ruggero added. "Johnny Megna. He's quiet, but he likes to start fights. Usually ends up killing someone at every bar he goes to. At some point. Not real popular with the local Irish in Saint Denis. Young, and eager for a fight."
"Arthur?" Dutch turned. With just his name, Arthur knew Dutch was asking him how he felt. For his part, Arthur grumbled another sigh and found himself scratching the back of his neck. Reviewing all said thus far in this little gathering.
"Well...it don't sound too hard. But I guess we ain't figured how exactly we could do the job." Emphasis on 'could.' Ain't nothing agreed to yet and these fellers best understood such.
"He's right." Hosea happily agreed. "What exactly are you looking for, besides the robbery that is?"
"A fine question." Carlos flicked what remained of his cigarette as Dutch puffed his cigar. Listening...watching with the glow of his cigar flicking in his dark eyes. Intent borne deep in them as Arthur could see clear as day.
"I know you lot ain't contract killers. If dying has to come it happens. I respect that. I ain't looking for you folks to go in and stir up trouble in Valentine for your own sake's. That said, I think I have an idea. If executable, and done so properly I think we could all walk away quite happy, and I'll pay well for well done work."
"Well by all means," Dutch waved him on. "Share away, my good sir!"
"Obliged." Carlos smirked. "Greco, Megna and Dimino will likely take up residence in either that hotel me and Ruggero are in, or try and find room in that saloon. Either way, me and Ruggero have made ourselves scarce. If they see us the chances of this leading back to us increases, and we're looking to keep things as reasonably doubtful as possible."
"Okay." Arthur nodded as Carlos continued.
"Right, and you folks aren't exactly unknown if there happens to be a wandering eye from Pinkertons or bounty hunters about. So this would have to be quiet. No death needed, but, it would be best if we could make it seem like robbers from out here in the country as opposed to a planned job. Just like the last one. So we'd need discreetness and calm."
"I think I get ya'." Arthur nodded, recalling what Carlos had spoke of yesterday. "That's why you mentioned the women."
"Exactly!"
"What?" John questioned to little immediate clarity.
"You have some women in your crew...or your community, don't you Mr. Van der Linde?"
"We do." Dutch elongated cautiously. "A few such, but they ain't necessarily what you'd call guns for hire." Dutch hitched a laugh after. "Well, most of them most of the time."
"Of course, nothing like that." Carlos assured with a renewed smile. "What I am thinking is this," He turned to Arthur. "I pay for three people or thereabouts. Two men to act as guards and party to this little charade you folk put on. One woman to lure Greco in."
"Ain't pay nobody enough to let them get beat, feller." John offered up, and he had a point.
"No, nobody should get beat! Not if it's done properly I mean."
"How's that then?" John pressed as Ruggero stepped near. Once again Arthur saw that these two city fellers seemed to either read or know one another very well. Always quickly able to inject themselves even midway through a conversation when or as needed.
"The way we figure it is that we use one of the girls you got on hand to lure Greco in. He thinks he's about to have him a night of debauched fun, and knowing him he won't be able to help himself. If the woman meets his likes and tastes, of course. If she can convince Greco to lead him to his room it'll make getting the bag full of goods that much easier."
"And how do the fellers factor into things?" John continued pressing.
"I figure two people should be more than enough backup." Carlos spoke now. "One of them to act as the woman's 'companion' as you folk spring what looks to be a robbery trap. Not the first time a working girl would have lured an ignorant fool into a robbery, so it shouldn't raise too many alarm bells once news gets back down to Saint Denis. The second one would be there as insurance. If there needs to be a game played with Megna and Dimino to keep them busy or throw them off the second one of you can get their attention. Or, if it'll just be easier to hit Greco with two of ya' rather than one that's fine. No sweat off my brow. How you folks do things is your business, but this is my idea if wanted." Carlos finished. Leaning forward into the table.
"Hmm…" Dutch hummed. Tilting towards Hosea after. "What you think?"
"Sounds...more than doable I'd give you that. Wouldn't be the first time we've had one of the women help in a robbery of course, Dutch."
"No certainly not!" Dutch chuckled as some unknown memory of such business passed by his head. Arthur's too as he felt a smirk crawl along his features. Reminiscing on passed exploits and such.
"How long this feller expected to stay in Valentine you think?"
"About a day or two. If the wagons don't show near the town in that time then they'll know something's gone wrong." Carlos answered.
"Won't the fact they get robbed and the wagon train is gone make your uh...unpleasant associate think them things are connected?" Arthur offered up and Ruggero nodded though it were Carlos that replied.
"He'll no doubt think I may have something to do with this. Played right though, he could come to the conclusion them as robbed his wagon train learned of a fool from the city come up these ways loaded with cash on hand. If that's the case then he'll imagine the local outlaw, or roaming bandits in these parts are to blame and not me."
"Oh I see, so we take all the risk then, huh?" Arthur chuckled morosely.
"He brings up a good point." Hosea nodded. "We ain't looking to add no unknowns from the city onto our backs. All else that's after us as is."
"Of course." Carlos nodded. "But, Ruggero had an idea, if you folk would be amenable."
"Does he?"
"Yep." The big bastard replied to Arthur. "When the Pinkertons asked me and Carlos here about you lot, days past, they were misdirected. Looking for bandits with Irish accents. Now I don't know exactly all the working in these parts, but we have some inclination that you and yours know of a gang called the O'Driscolls?"
"Hoh that we do!" Dutch nearly growled even while offering up a knowing chuckle. "Me and Colm, their leader have plenty of...history. Nothing pretty. Nothing nice at all."
"Then that makes this an even better idea." Carlos grinned as Ruggero carried on.
"He's right. If your gang don't like these Irish bandits then we have an opportunity to make things seem like they weren't anything to do with y'all nor us in Saint Denis...for a while. No doubt we will get some sort of blow-back, and as long as your people remain quiet enough I don't think you should find yourselves in much trouble. That all said," Ruggero adjusted the shotgun at his back.
"There's plenty of Irish boys in Saint Denis. Street gangs, little crews that run small time rackets and such. A bigger family of the paddies...if you err, excuse the term…?"
"Hardly the worst thing anyone's said in this camp." Dutch waved the slur off.
"Hmm," Ruggero nodded absently. "Like I said plenty of Irish folks in Saint Denis. Plenty of them ain't got too much of a good opinion on the man Greco works for. Could be assumed they had something to do with it. Either they, or these O'Driscolls on their own, or maybe contracted out by the city boys, conducted the raids. All that would be required to sell the story would be a little theater."
"Ah, I see!" Hosea cackled. That huckster flame in him having been blown to life a little. Arthur rather enjoyed the smirk on the old man's face.
"I think we have just the young idiot for the job! Wouldn't you agree, Arthur?"
"Huh?" Confused for a moment, Arthur narrowed his eyes. His brow furrowing...when then…
"Oh hell…"
"He'd sell the farce well. He looks the part, even while masked up. Sounds the part regardless, and with some...supervision he should be able to pull things off."
"They need calmness, Hosea! That little Irish bastard ain't nearly as calm as anyone would like to pretend!"
"Ho ho, I see! You gotta admit, Hosea's got a point, Arthur!" Dutch damnably agreed.
"I don't wanna play babysitter to that little Irish shit."
"Arthur…" Hosea rounded. "Don't think of it as supervision, think of it as...getting him back into the groove of things. He's been back with us but hardly done any work. Besides sleeping on guard duty."
"And that leads you to thinking he'd be good on a job like this?!"
"With proper motivation, sure." Hosea cackled.
"I see we have a winner?" Carlos smirked and Arthur could only sigh...deeply.
"Sean?!" He called. "Where are ya'?!"
"Oh no, I'll go speak with him, Arthur. You folks finish up the details here." Hosea assured with a pat on his shoulder.
"So we're doing this then?"
"It would seem so." Dutch added, another loose chuckle as he puffed his cigar. "It'd be good for him. Little Irish fool by the name of Sean. He has the look, and mannerisms to him. He'll be more than adequate to sell this little deception you have cooked up. Hosea will more than ready him for the part. Which I think means Arthur will-"
"Go along too, I guess!" Arthur waved his arm.
"Thank you, son!" Dutch chortled. "Which I suppose would just leave us with need for a girl."
"Precisely." Carlos nodded. "Though, no offense intended of course, Greco doesn't like Negroes."
"That means Tilly's out." Arthur nodded. "He got a preference, you said?"
"More or less." Ruggero offered with a hint of disdain in his voice. Greco didn't sound too nice where the ladies was concerned. "Brown or dark hair. Younger, but not necessarily too young."
"'Course. Well that's good I mean." Arthur went on. "Well there's Mary-Beth. Karen's got blonde hair so, ain't gonna work I don't think."
"Hmm, she can pickpocket real well, and play a role." Dutch rubbed his chin. "But I don't think Mary-Beth has the...skill at playing a working girl."
"No!" John snapped before the words had even come out Dutch's mouth.
"What?" Arthur began...till he too got it. "Oh…"
"She don't do that kind of working no more, Dutch."
"No I know! I know, son." Dutch chuckled. "No one here is asking her to! Just...play the part. And, everyone in camp knows what it was Abigail did to earn her living. Ain't no harm done, and no offense intended, John. It's just reality! Now, the girl in need won't be doing no actual work, so to speak, correct?"
"No need at all." Carlos assured.
"Well it ain't just that! That boy ain't got a father. But he does have a mother. This is...well...well it's dangerous all the same. Ain't right forcing her to go and deal with disagreeable men where she could get hurt, or killed all the same." John offered up. Quite the contradiction to how the hell he acted most the time where Abigail and Jack were concerned as far as Arthur had experienced. Damn fool that Marston was. Having one foot in and the other out. Unsure of what the hell he wanted or who he were. But…
"The fool has a point, Dutch." Arthur waved his hand off towards Abigail. The woman still watching, and unseen deepening the furrow of her brow at the pointed motion.
"Abigail don't much do any work no more but mothering the boy."
"No, I know! Ain't nobody saying she has to do anything! I'm not forcing her to, son. Surely not. But, if these boys are paying, and paying well, don't you think Abigail ought be the one in camp to get some of that money? At the very least it would be worth asking her." Dutch offered up. That undertone of a grumble to his voice letting everyone who knew him know, he was already dead set on a course.
"I don't know about this, Dutch."
"Well luckily for us all, I do, John. Ain't no harm in asking Abigail if she wants to earn some goddamn money! Now...now if she don't" He reeled himself back. Standing up from the seat and nearing John. Planting both hands on the younger man's shoulders, his cigar abandoned on the grass. "If she don't want to then she won't be forced to, 'course. But, the decision...is hers, ain't it, John?"
"He's got you there, Marston." Arthur agreed. Trying to deflate the little ebb of tension rising about. Plus...Dutch did have a point. Weren't small change these boys were offering, and Abigail did have experience.
"I...I suppose so. Just don't like it is all."
"We all do things we don't like, son. Worst we all watch others do things we like less. Best we can do is try to make sure they are safe all the same. Abigail will be fine. Besides, Arthur and Sean will make sure of that, if she says yes, won't you, son?"
"I most certainly shall." Arthur nodded. "If she agrees."
"If." Dutch repeated in agreement. Dutch then marched himself off towards Abigail's tent. Leaving Arthur and John with the two Italians.
"Listen, my friend," Carlos rose back up from the seat.
"We ain't friends, partner. Let's have no confusion there, got it?"
"Marston…" Arthur began.
"Ah, it's alright, Mr. Morgan." Carlos assured. "We don't have to be friends. More a colloquial way of trying to tell you that your woman will be fine. I say this not for my part, but for this big guy's."
"Why thank you for the vote of confidence." Arthur scoffed. "He's right though, John. We don't even know if she'll say yes, but if she does, I'll have my eyes on her."
"And Sean?! That fool ain't exactly Micah but...he…"
"I know." Arthur pat the man's shoulder. "It'll be alright."
"If you say so." John intoned. "And another thing, friend, she ain't my woman."
"I see." Carlos smiled. His own eyes tracing John. Arthur well enough aware he was watching a sizing up contest between the two. John from a more earnest place, Carlos 'cause John weren't exactly being too nice.
Either way, it weren't too long that the four stood about in an awkward silence till-
"What the hell have you boys gone and tried to get me involved with?!"
"Evening, Abigail." Arthur greeted the woman as she came stomping over wearing her long dark skirt, tan dirty shirt and white undershirt. Her hair up and those blue eyes lit with that fire she always had laying underneath.
"What goddamn mess have you fools gone and tried to rope me into?!"
"A fine bit of explaining you did here, Dutch."
"Oh, I tried, son. I tried." The camp leader approached with a jaunt and laugh. "Now Abigail, I want you to meet them two as are in need. Mr. Calogero Magliano I believe is this feller's name, and Mr. Ruggero Bonaparte." Ruggero didn't correct the slight pronunciation, and Abigail eyed them both. Up and down as Carlos smirked welcoming-like.
"You two looking for a working girl to go and make a farce of some city-feller! Yeah I got that, I ain't deaf nor dub, Dutch. Ain't work enough and foolishness enough for you to go and get involved in John you got to take the boy's mother away from him now?!"
"Nice to see you too, Abigail."
"Now don't go blaming John, Abigail." Arthur stepped in. "These fellers need a girl, and you or Mary-Beth best fit the type they need. Ain't asking you to do no actual...labor in that way, right fellers?"
"None at all, Miss. None at all." Carlos cast a coy smirk and stepped near with quite pronounced bravery.
"Forgive this whole bout of confusion ma'am. I am Calogero, but please, feel free to call me Carlos. You are?" She reeled her head back, but eyed him a long moment. His hand extended towards her. A slight wrinkle to her nose, before Abigail relented. Probably feeling some sort of unseemly by leaving his given hand unshaken.
"Abigail. Abigail Roberts." She flicked her eyes to John who didn't say or do nothing. Arthur weren't sure what the look was for, but he doubted John had even seen it. If he had he didn't care. Seemingly.
"Ms. Roberts. A pleasure to meet you. Again," He took her hand and gently shook it. Respectably and such, raising it up and patting her hand with his left before letting it go. "My apologies for throwing this on you. But, Arthur here is right. Me and my friend here are in need of a girl to help rob a real bastard. A woman hurting fat brute of a man with more than enough money to be shared."
"That much I heard. Don't see what it's got to do with me." Abigail continued on. Retracting her hand. Crossing her arms over her chest as a little of the fiery flush along her cheeks began to fade.
"Ruggero?" Carlos turned over his left shoulder. Abigail followed and her eyes trained on the massive feller more closely. Her eyes flashed and Arthur repressed a chuckle as she realized this tower of a man was among them.
"Yeah...yeah I'd say she'd do just fine. Or, you'd do fine, Miss. You check out for Greco's type. From what I know of the man."
"See," Carlos started again before Abigail could repeat her earlier...concerns. "This job needs someone who knows how to play a man, and play him well. Lure him to his room, and then along with this brute and this Sean fella I've heard about, you rob him. Make it seem like you're a bunch of robbers from out here in the country."
"Or that the O'Driscolls pulled this little robbery." Arthur added to Carlos' pointing and nodding agreement.
"Or that! Preferably that. From what I understand you don't put in much work in...well that way at all. So there shouldn't be much of anyone to get good enough look at you, or know you at all in Valentine to have description enough to make an issue with you."
"That's all fine and well." Abigail cut him off. "I am a mother now. I don't need to be taking any undue risks. My boy needs me. Ain't got much a father to help him around here neither."
"Yep…" John mumbled sarcastically.
"Fair enough, Ms. Roberts, but...if you'd allow me?" Carlos, with all the charm Arthur could see the man muster carried on. He and Dutch did have...something in common. Though Arthur weren't yet sure what that thing was. Not yet.
"You're a mother, like you said. You got obligations to this boy. I assume you need money to care for him. Food, clothes, books or anything of the sort."
"Well of course. Ain't no bundle of cash going to-"
"How about five-hundred dollars?"
Silence.
Carlos' offer made everyone reel back, even Arthur had to whirl his head. Dutch, behind Abigail got that gleam in his eyes, and he was the first to break the silence with a hearty laugh.
"Ho ho ho! Now that sounds like quite the worthy amount of money to me, Abigail. Wouldn't you agree Arthur, John?"
"Ain't chicken feed that's for sure."
"I would say so." John scoffed. "You're going to pay a girl you don't know five-hundred goddamn dollars to rob a feller for papers?"
"I paid you as much didn't I?"
"I...uh…" John started and stopped.
"He's got a point, son." Dutch chortled on. "Abigail?"
"I...that...that is certainly a lot of money. 'Least for what I have now, I guess. Yes."
"How about them as are protecting her?" Arthur wondered for his own sake, and before Sean bothered him for the knowledge without his prior knowledge.
"Seeing as she'd be taking on the majority of the risk, the lady, whomever it is," Carlos turned and winked at Abigail. She sputtered a scoff, but there was just the barest hint of a blush. John grumbled from his throat beside Arthur which made him laugh, internally.
"I say she gets the lion's share. Five hundred to her. Two-fifty to you boys."
"Another thousand goddamn dollars?" Arthur wondered.
"Another thousand goddamn dollars." Funnily enough Ruggero repeated in a low breath.
"Well ain't that a grand deal?" Dutch all but pressed Abigail who turned over shoulder to look at him. The hint of wanting to say something in her eyes as she remained stood firm with arms crossed. Though she didn't say whatever had been clearly on her mind. At least not to Dutch.
"You...would be watching over me, Arthur?"
"Abigail!"
"What, John?!" She snapped. "That boy needs food in his belly and clothes on his back. One of us best put in the work to see that happen with little need for anyone else in camp needing my begging!"
"I...you know I give…"
"I'll decide for myself, thank you, John Marston!" She growled and Arthur chuckled openly this time.
"Best leave her be, boy. Or she'll eat you alive."
"Real helpful, Arthur."
"Sure." Arthur wheezed another laugh before nodding. "I surely would be watching over you, Miss. Sean will be there too, and that boy may be a fool, but he'll know to keep an eye on you while we deal with these city folk. If you want to do the job I'll be right there with you."
Her brow furrowed tightly. Abigail bit her bottom lip and chewed it gently as a myriad of unsaid thoughts and ideas fluttered over her. No one need be a mind reader nor genius to see as much.
"He's good for it?" She asked Arthur not Carlos, though he seemed to take no insult.
"Sure is. Paid me, John, Javier and Charles each for that wagon train." Abigail nodded. Still contemplating as everyone waited on her.
"Are you a good thief, ma'am?" Carlos wondered, breaking the silence. To which Abigail scoffed. A slight upturn in her features and some measure of pride fluttered over both expression and then her voice.
"I've always been a good thief, Mister."
"One of the best." Arthur concurred.
"Sounds like exactly what this job needs. Besides," Carlos neared much to John's quiet dissatisfaction. "You'd be robbing a real bastard. Woman beating, bottom feeder who works for worse bastards in the city of Saint Denis. A woman like you? Would take him for all he's got just fine."
"Charm, or trying to charm me ain't gonna help you none, Mister."
"A man can try, ma'am!" Carlos grinned. To which Abigail sputtered. Scoffing again. Though as she did Arthur could tell the feller had sold the idea well enough.
"I'll...I'll be needing something fine to dress in."
"Abigai-"
"I'm doing this John. Best the boy have someone bringing in money 'round here!" She retorted with a hint of sarcastic venom sent John's way. Whilst Carlos pat her shoulder gently.
"You have my thanks, ma'am. I know you'll do just fine!"
"Now don't try anymore charming, you. Lest I change my mind with all that extra sugar."
"Apologies, Ms. Roberts." Carlos raised his hands and let her be as she turned and marched past a laughing Dutch. Clapping his hands as he smelled money to be made by his troupe. As good as himself making money as Arthur was more than aware of.
"I daresay great things are on our horizon fellers!" Dutch threw his arms out and boasted.
"Sure, Dutch." Arthur shook his head.
"This had better go well."
"It will Marston, it will."
"I hope so, Arthur...I hope so." John turned and made off. Back ton guard duty, or just to get away and cool off. Either way the fool needed to clear his head some.
"Forgive John. He and Abigail are...temperamental."
"No need to explain." Carlos waved a hand. "Such things…the endless torrent on the thrashing seas!"
"Exactly, my good sir, exactly!" Dutch and Carlos laughed.
"Oh God…" Arthur shook his head.
"Ah, English! You've gone and found some work needing the refined youthful touch of the new guard!"
"Mother of God." Arthur groaned as he turned to see Sean MacGuire on approach.
"Haha! I sees you and they have need of a fine Irishmen! Giving me mind are ya' Arthur Morgan?"
"Nope, it was Dutch, for some goddamn reason."
"Alright you fools. Let's go over things as we wait on Abigail." Hosea came up behind Sean and the little group huddled together.
Plan in mind, and in motion to rob some city folks and make some more money of these strange Italians.
Both of whom stood among a merry camp of robbers, thieves and assorted degenerates. Nothing quite so new for them really.
L's Note: A quick update compared to the multi-year long drought. Apologies again to anyone who found this story from back in the day and found it in them to come back. To anyone new reading this, welcome! Any and all reviews are deeply appreciated, but, of course, unnecessary. Melodycrow! Your stories helped/help inspire Lord Kun to write for this story! He and I are both glad to see you still around, even if, again, the wait was abysmal! Thanks for the review! :3
As usual, if anyone finds any egregious grammatical errors I missed let me know and I will try to fix them ASAP.
Till the next!
-L
Edit Note: Edited/Updated: 4/21/2024