Chapter 8
Colter's weather would never stop being irritating, no matter how much time passed.
Arthur almost didn't come out here, based on that alone. But he had to. He still had his responsibilities as the third in command around the tent.
He was moving to the shed where John was currently recovering in. He had to make sure scarface hadn't done something he shouldn't have. Also, he wasn't particularly keen on leaving Marston next to Dutch, Javier, Bill, and Micah, knowing what they would do at the end of all of this.
Along the way, he noticed the form of Lenny standing alone, looking utterly lost and defeated, as he stood in the middle, a cigarette lit.
"Hey, kid, you're okay?" He inquired, though he had a feeling he knew what Lenny's current state was 'bout.
Lenny hesitated for a moment before responding, "...I miss Jenny."
"I understand."
He nodded, "I mean I know this life is crazy, but it's still hard to believe she's fucking gone."
He clapped him on the shoulder. "She would want you to be happy. Mourn for her but don't put her memory in vain."
He smiled. "Thanks, Arthur, you're a lifesaver sometimes, you know that?"
His bearded lips curled up into a smile. "Easy now, kid, ya don't want Sean to know that you're going soft on everyone."
Lenny scoffed. "Sean is the last person to be talking."
Arthur entered, brushing the snow off him, and approached Swanson and John. "Hello, Reverend, I thought you was reading him his last rites. Now I see you are introducing him to your other passion."
John's expression was unreadable, but he most likely would have rolled his eyes. The offended Reverend repudiated, "I'll mind you to show me some respect, Mr. Morgan."
"Don't hit your head too hard. You might end up devoured by wolves too." Arthur quipped before sitting on the rickety chair next to John, doing his best to hide his concern. Yeah, yeah, he survived. "You're still breathing, Marston?"
"I owe you," John mumbled.
"Nah, this is enough," Arthur snarked in his dark humor. "You have quite a survival track, boy? Bullet in Blackwater? Now this? Like I always say you're just lucky."
"Don't feel like it right now. You should have went up to the bloody mountain," John replied.
"Oh, but you're so good at those type of things," Arthur responded in a fake pitiful tone, "you know, we need to come up with a better story for that scar."
"So, freezing, breeding, starving, damn near getting eaten to death, ain't good enough for you?" John responded gruffly.
"I heard better," he replied.
"...What's been happening to you, Morgan? Folks are saying that you've been a bit different." There was faint concern in his voice, even though the younger idiot wouldn't ever admit it. "I heard Bill talking 'bout how you called out Dutch 'bout Blackwater."
Arthur was pretty sure a shiver traveled through John's body at that moment, at least from the inside. He'd understood why. Heidi McCourt was a traumatic event for John for a long time. It'd shown him the truth behind Dutch, even though he didn't want to admit it.
It should have shown that to Arthur.
"I did," he admitted without guilt or hesitation.
It was really the beginning of the end for the gang. But since Dutch had shown no signs of wanting to get out of this life despite the many opportunities knocking, Arthur couldn't depend on him for doing anything else aside from getting folks killed.
The door snapped open, allowing the cold air inside. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Dutch van der Linde walked inside, the eager anticipation clear.
"Arthur, I think it's time for Colm O'Driscoll."
Ever the opportunistic, John offered. "Want me to come?"
"Of course I do but look at you," Dutch gestured to him.
John tried to find humor in the situation. "I was always ugly, Dutch. It's just a scratch." His voice came out more as a wheeze than the laugh it was intended to be.
"Lie still, son," Dutch growled in a warning tone.
"You worry too much, old man."
"Don't be a child, Marston, you can barely even move," Arthur contributed in agreement, pushing John back onto the bed.
Abigail entered the cabin with Jack trailing after her, playing with his fingers, he looked curiously and apprehensively at his Pa.
"Little Abigail," Dutch greeted.
"Dutch." Abigail greeted before looking at John. "The boy wanted to see you, John."
Jack approached John slowly. Arthur's heart ached. Not even a pipe from John. It made him want to gift him with another scar. When would the stubborn son of a bitch realize he'd gotten the opportunity many others didn't.
"He seen me, now. What's left of me." John commented sarcastically. "What 'bout you?"
"Guess I was hoping to see a corpse," Abigail replied roughly. Arthur known she didn't mean that. But their antagonistic relationship had went away only when John realized what he'd almost lost. If Arthur could whip him back into shape, then maybe that could fix that strained bond and finally just raise the boy exactly in the way he should be raised.
"Bide your time. You'll see plenty of them." John returned.
"You're a rotten man, John Marston!" The woman snapped.
"He's a goddamn idiot, Abigail," Arthur added before scowling down at John, "and don't talk like that around your son, boy."
"Sure, Dutch," John scoffed.
At the end of the day, John hadn't been through any of the things that made him realize he needed to be a good father and partner at that point: Jack getting taken, him being arrested, seeing the gang slowly fall apart under Dutch's leadership, Arthur's sacrifice, all of it, so another reason why the past was kicking him in the ass. He reckoned things would deteriorate between him, Abigail, and Jack pretty quickly in the scenario where Arthur forced them to leave the gang earlier. How was he going to open his goddamn eyes again? Make him become the goddamn man he'd wanted not to be, but the one Jack would need?
"You two are fools," Dutch commented with bland humor in his tone, before he left the cabin, having nothing else to say.
All that mattered to him was finally catching Colm O'Driscoll, and more so, that goddamn train. It occurred that this conversation was a familiar one, though it happened at a different event, at a different time. Did he make any changes yet to make certain conversations happen sooner? He didn't think so, but eh, what could he do?
He followed him out, vowing to have a very important conversation with John later. Abigail too. 'Cause if John stepped forward as a father, the last those two idiots needed to do was pushing away each other. The relationship was strained, not broken.
"You're okay, son?"
"Yes," Arthur responded bluntly, the tone of voice stunning Dutch as he collected the rifle and lasso from Dutch and mounted his horse. He knew that there was no changing this. But he did agree at a chance to take out Colm. Colm had to go. He had to be put down before he'd hurt anyone else.
"Mr. Matthews. Mr. Smith. Mr. Pearson. Will you please look after the place? There are O'Driscolls about!" Dutch barked.
He urged the horse ahead and pulled on the reins, leading them down the path.
"Southwest, right, Arthur?"
"Yes," he responded sharply. "Just follow the main trail southwest. They're camped near some lake."
Ultimately, he didn't want to rob Cornwall. That would be a disaster for the Van Der Linde gang, but he had to go get Kieran. If he don't, the boy would remain an O'Driscoll, stuck with Colm and the rest 'till the day came where they've fallen, no chances of happiness. At least, Mary-Beth provided him with some form of that for the short time he was there.
"Okay! Let's go find these bastards before they find us and rob this score they're planning!" Dutch shouted to the followers behind them.
They went down the direction, pushing through the cold blizzard. Arthur didn't say anything. Eventually, they came across a few tracks. His good muscle memory made them unnecessary."
"Horse tracks," Dutch observed correctly. "As far as I can tell, the only fools out here are us and them."
"Like I said," Arthur declared.
Arthur remained silent, so the leader of the Van Der Linde gang continued, "Listen, son, I know you don't think much of my ideas recently, but this is the right move. I learned a long time ago that you hit Colm O'Driscoll. Wait for him and people you love die."
"We aren't going to wait for him," Arthur dismissed, the words spilling out in a darker tone than intended, though not for the reason Dutch most likely believed.
"There's the Arthur I know." Satisfaction leaked in his tone. Ha, that was exactly what Dutch'd always seen in him. As long as Arthur was a good boy, Dutch loved him. When he'd acted out of place, however, all of that meant nothing. "I was worried that Hosea may have corrupted you, son." Although phased as a joke, Arthur'd spotted what he'd perceived as a threat in his tone. It was only a matter of time before Dutch would've started pinning things on him as he did Marston last time. Let him, Arthur didn't care. His little brother being accused of being a rat hurt the man at the time. Arthur would spare him of that burden 'cause John didn't deserve that type of treatment from Dutch nor them goddamn traitors, Bill and Javier.
"Maybe Morgan hadn't gone soft after all!" Micah cackled behind him, his irritating voice causing Arthur to pull on his reins harsher.
"You will wish I had." It wasn't a threat-instead a promise. A promise that went over the rat's head.
"Enough," Dutch snapped, at his wits end with the arguments between Arthur and Micah. "Whatever's going on between you two, it stops now."
Dutch actually had a point. Arthur would take care of that when they'd crossed that bridge when it came to it.
But for now...
It was time to end this once and for all.
Soon, the gang found themselves housed on top of a mountain overlooking the O'Driscoll's camp.
The world was deaf to Arthur's ears, his eyes narrowed on the small forms of the many O'Driscolls moving 'bout, most standing alone, isolated.
He'd spotted the small form of Kieran tending to his horse, and he could help a silent jolt that traveled through his body.
Revenge was a fool's game.
But was it revenge-doing what must be done?
Truth be told, he hadn't held any harsh feelings to Colm about kidnapping, shooting, and holding him upside down. Those moments didn't matter. He had been through worst. All that mattered was...
Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran Kieran
No...
KIERAN CAN'T DIE! KIERAN CAN'T DIE! KIERAN CAN'T DIE!
Him...
KIERAN KIERAN KIERAN KIERAN KIERAN
For Arthur, the Earth suddenly seemed frozen in place, as if time itself had stopped. He realized he was at a crux in time; the fate of Kieran would be decided in the next few moments.
Memories washed over him in a wave, and a million possible outcomes entered through his mind simultaneously. The O'Driscolls were a large gang. They would come after Kieran when discovering he was in their enemy's hands. He saw variations of the boy's own life and death played out over and over in every conceivable way, shape, and form.
He had to choose, but there was no way to know which was the most likely outcome, or what actions of his would lead to which results. If he did what he was tempted to do, this would be a big change to the point where the future wouldn't be too certain. There would be consequences for this, though he didn't know exactly what just yet.
The moment passed and the world began to move again, though everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Colm O'Driscoll revealed himself, walking up to his horse. Arthur knew he had to act now; he had to make his choice.
In a sudden moment of clarity, he saw...
'Now I wish there was something I could do to make the two of you get along better.'
'Well, that's easy. Make him change.'
'Very funny.'
'...What is that?'
A shout, full of pure, unsullied horror.
'It's Kieran!'
'What the hell have they done to him?'
Kieran Duffy. Just when he had started liking the kid as well. At the very least, Sean and Lenny's deaths were nothing short of painless. Kieran, however, had been forced through who knew what type of horror. It'd shown the sadism and ruthlessness of the O'Driscolls.
Originally, he didn't want to change too much and invalidate his future knowledge...
'Kieran saved my life, yet I wasn't able to do the same for him.'
-but doing so meant that Kieran's life would be on a timer. Possibly Sean, Hosea, and Lenny's too. He had already accepted that he couldn't allow them to die again. For better or worse, he would have to do what he could with the force of humanity around them.
Right then and there, the gunslinger knew what he had to do.
Instead of advancing with his five companions, he stepped to the side of the cliff face, where he saw a small ledge, he could jump down to, then descended the rest of the way.
"Arthur?!" Javier? Lenny? Dutch? It didn't matter. None of them did.
He landed just shy of the water tower, feeling verbal backlash. He glanced around, wondering if anyone spotted him yet. He gripped the one on the tower, hands in front of his mouth, 'till the protest in his body stopped, and the man doubled over, temporarily unconscious.
He gripped his Cattleman Revolver from his holster. It felt cold in his hand, as Kieran's headless body was. He breathed in, the best he could, even though his lungs threatened to fall out of his body. Steadied. Calm down. It was not going to be the same. Kieran won't die again. He had knowledge of the future. He won't let it happen again.
It was time to end this now!
He raised the weapon. Time was in slow motion. His ears rang. There was an almost crackling sound, getting higher and higher as the seconds passed and noise started to accelerate. He flagged an invisible 'x' in his mind and released the lever.
One round, two, three, four, five, six, seven, they collided into the target. Resounding, thunderous, booming, vibrating over everything else. Cutting through the mountains. Unseen to Arthur, the few animals in homes nearby stopped and looked up at the source of the noise. Some scurried off while others went back.
His hands reloaded the weapon on instinct, but his mind was absent.
Colm O'Driscoll stood. From what it looked like, the gang leader was staring at him, his eyes bore into his very essence, seeing right through him. Arthur returned the stare with a glare of his own, defiant 'till the very end. No smile. No taunt. No threat. He was just standing there... empty, a vessel.
His worst fears came to life. He'd fucked up, got Kieran killed, alerted Colm. The boy who saw through Dutch, the boy who was mistreated by all, the boy who was too good for this world. He died again. Killed by the blade of man yet again.
Arthur changed nothing. If anything, it made the tragedy of the whole situation happen quicker. By his hubris and anger, for a moment forgetting his code, Kieran was dead even sooner. He wanted to change something, wanted to make everything better.
His revolver was still smoking, it stench almost pouring into his nose and making him cough.
Nothing happened for a moment...
Most looked each and every way to see where the shots came from.
Then something did happen.
Bullets cut all over, the leader of the O'Driscoll gang collapsed onto the ground, large pool of blood pouring out of the man's body.
Arthur Morgan stood unshaken at what he had just done, allowing the thought to travel through his head.
The first major change.