"So, when Issac was born, I asked you about…well…" John frowned, trying to figure out a way to say what he wanted to without actually saying it.

"Oh I remember John. I let you borrow that pillow book when you turned sixteen so you wouldn't look like a fool the first time you took a woman. Or were the descriptions and pictures not enough for you to understand the art of sex, John?" Dutch seemed to tense up, almost nervous as he bit his lower lip and started to reel his line back a little bit.

"I've been intimate with Miss Roberts a couple times and, well…uh," John ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, "I uh…"

"Just what the camp was truly lacking. Another bastard child who is just going to die right along with their mother." Dutch growled, his fishing pole shaking a bit as he tried to take deep breaths. He gritted his teeth a bit as he prepared himself for the conversation he was sure was about to come. I should've known, he thought to himself bitterly, my luck always runs out when there's women involved.

"No? I did like you…well…Annabelle told me to. And I've been making sure she talks to Susan when she suspects she might be with child. If she is pregnant–it sure as hell ain't mine, Dutch. It's…sweet and such, but I just don't think I'm really in love with her anymore on account of her profession. You were with Miss Grimshaw once, it never bother you that she was…having intimate relations with other men?" John flopped down on the post of the dock and let his pole sort of dip into the water.

Thank God.

"She wasn't because I made her my woman at the time. Granted, that didn't exactly stop me from sleeping with Annabelle once in Saint Denis. I was more than content with having two women attend to my base desires, because I am a dog at the end of the day, but they saw it differently I guess. Well, Annabelle did anyway. And she was the one that came onto me in the first place!" Dutch chuckled, shaking his head as he thought back to her old apartment in Saint Denis where she had basically held him hostage at gunpoint because he put hands on Susan just to let him fuck her all over that bedroom not twenty minutes later. You were a strange woman, Annabelle. But we were both young, passionate, and stupid then.

"Did you love Susan, Dutch?" John asked, retrieving his line and standing up to cast off again.

"In a way, I suppose. I just loved Annabelle differently, or more maybe, I'm not entirely certain of which. Do you remember the time you first got to camp and tried to sneak into our tent because you had a nightmare? You must've been twelve or so at the time, crying and carrying on, thinking you could snuggle up with us. Except we were presently occupied with one another." Dutch nudged John with an elbow and the young man shivered a moment in disgust as he recalled the times in boyhood where he had unexpectedly caught them in the throes of passion, seeking the comfort of one of them to soothe him back to sleep. Dutch had always claimed John was 'too old' for such things, but Annabelle would either indulge the boy or give her man a stern look to do as he had been asked. He folded every time, unable to deny her and by proxy, John.

"I had seen people doing that sort of thing before so it wasn't like I didn't know what you two were up to. I have to ask though, there were a few times I ran into you both in an intimate moment and it sure didn't look like it was very pleasant for Annabelle, Dutch. I mean, you had hurt her before–" John was interrupted by Dutch who coughed and put his hand up. Ah, the times that she asked me to be savage with her to try to calm down. 'Come home to me', she would say and I knew what she was asking me to do to her.

"Sometimes, I needed to…exercise some frustrations and Annabelle was quite fine with it. I realize it might appear that I was…forcing myself on her or hurting her, but I assure you, John, it was consensual. Now, can we move onto a different topic, son? I'd rather not wander down memory lane or discuss the intimate nature of my relationship with her. Get to the point." Dutch rubbed the space between his eyes. Jesus Christ this boy wants too much honesty from me.

"I guess, I just wanna know if I can get over Abigail's profession. I like her, but it really pisses me off when I catch her fucking Arthur or Bill or Javier, or you." John grumbled, as he recast his line and slowly started bringing it back.

"For the last time, I didn't have sexual relations with Abigail, John. I have rejected the girl outright so it won't happen again. If it bothers you that much to share her with other men in camp, then ask her to be your woman, son. Annabelle was jealous too. You get that possessive nature from her, not me. The young lady approached me and made an attempt, but I was not in the mood. She kept my bed warm and then she left. And that is all that happened, son. They all had her, but I didn't, even if I wanted to initially." Dutch shook his head in disgust for a moment, reeling in his own line and fiddling with the bait that had slipped a bit on his hook.

"Whatever you say, Dutch." John rolled his eyes and earned a cuff to the back of the head.

"I'm not bullshitting you. You and her are the only people who really know who I am, son. Don't you go doubting me now. I am trying." Dutch chewed his lip angrily, huffing a moment as John's hook caught a hold of something and he turned his attention to it.

"There we go!" John whooped and slowly started fighting the fish on the other end of the line.

—-

They had taken several scores from O'Driscoll now and it had driven his old rival mad. He relished every opportunity he had with the boys to tear Colm's men to pieces. Of course, he needed to keep his delight buried, lest Hosea and the others thought he had gone mad again. He was going to try to live by the code, at least, faking it until he made it anyway. Susan had been right when she had asked him if the code had died with Annabelle, but he hadn't wanted to admit it then or admit it now that he was sitting across from Hosea.

Both of them were covered in blood, granted, at least it was O'Driscoll blood and not their own. They had been both successfully gaining money as well as looting Colm whenever they ran into one another. Of course, both men knew at some point Colm would hit them back, it was only a matter of time.

"Furthest West we've been so far Dutch, we're near Mexico." Hosea remarked as he poured them both another drink and groaned a bit, feeling his age beginning to creep up on him. "I'm getting too old for this. Aren't you?"

"I've been saddle sore before," Dutch stretched, grimacing a bit as his shoulder muscles burned and he cracked his neck, "but I've still got years on me Hosea."

"I hate to interrupt but," Susan was sort of half running half walking to them and Dutch knew by the quickness in her step that he was about to hear all about whatever bullshit the whores had gotten up to while they had been gone, "we need to talk."

"There are two theories to arguing with young women, and neither of them work." Dutch groaned, folding his arms behind his neck and scoffing. "I am fully aware that you are not too keen on Karen, but I really don't want to deal with this henpecking right now."

A young woman had joined the gang along with a gentleman named Sean recently. Karen had a pension for drinking to excess and often was at odds with Miss Grimshaw over minor things. Susan tried not to complain to Dutch too much, but lately she had been bugging him to at least say something to the woman. Though, he refused. She could tend to the girls, he and Hosea had their hands full enough with the boys and Miss Kirk.

"Not Karen. It's Miss Roberts." Susan began to pace somewhat frantically and Dutch and Hosea looked at one another for a moment before Dutch reached for his cup and tapped it to the table before draining it. If it ain't one whore it's another.

"What about Abigail, Susan?" Dutch mumbled, watching the woman continue to pace nervously in the tall grass when it dawned on him, the reason why she was practically sweating and refusing to look him in the eye. "Fuck, she's pregnant isn't she?"

"She refuses to…well…she…" Susan paused, shaking a moment as though she anticipated Dutch to suddenly rise from his seat to go confront Abigail himself, but seemed surprised when he did not. It was clear he was tense, but he hadn't quite reached his snapping point just yet.

"Spit it out, preferably today." Dutch snorted as Hosea refilled the tin cup and Dutch growled as he pulled it towards him.

"You need to talk to her. She respects you. She'll listen to you–" Susan put her face in her hands, growling herself and clutching at her hair. She was trying to be as patient as possible, but some part of her wanted to throw her hands in the air and tell Dutch she was done with this. As the boys and Dutch collected more women, they were becoming more and more dependent on her to deal with the feminine aspects of camp life. She hated feeling like a madam. This was not why she had chosen to remain with him all this time.

"Do we know which one of them," Dutch gestured at the rest of his boys who had gathered either around the larger camp fire or were chatting with Pearson, "is the responsible party?"

"I suspect–" Susan began quietly, realizing that she needed to tread very carefully now as Dutch grew angrier and angrier. It was subtle to the others, but both Susan and Hosea had seen it before.

"I DON'T WANT GODDAMN SPECULATION! WHO. IS. RESPONSIBLE!" Dutch screamed, slamming his fist down on the flimsy table, sending it clattering to the ground and launching himself off of his seat. Not again, I can't deal with this again. We aren't fit to raise families! No, he needed to calm down, there was something about this situation that he was missing. That's what she would've told him to do. Whores know how to prevent and even abort a child, Abigail knows this, and it sure as hell ain't mine. But the question is which one of these idiots is she in love with.

"You alright, Dutch?" Arthur called out from where he was standing with Pearson, Mac, and the new recruit Sean.

"Which one of you bastards got Miss Roberts pregnant!" Dutch snarled through gritted teeth as all of the men began to look at one another. Camp had become eerily quiet, even the crickets and the fire seemed to silence themselves as Dutch fumed in place. Clutching his hands into fists and gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

"Mr. Marston did." Abigail called out from behind Dutch, standing defiantly the way Annabelle once did. Her head held proudly and her arms folded in front of her as she coldly stared at Dutch's back.

"I beg your pardon?" Dutch slowly turned to look at the young woman, a mixture of panic, shock, and disbelief as he blinked a couple times and shook his head. She's lying, John's smarter than that. He said he was doing as we taught him to do.

"I said, Mr. Marston, did. We've been–" Abigail began as Dutch started to laugh, quietly at first but it started to grow louder and caught everyone's attention. John knows better, we raised him together. He knows that you can't have a family and be an outlaw. You have to choose one or the other and that boy is not ready to hang up his gun belt just yet. He wouldn't. He can't. I won't let him repeat my mistakes, our mistakes, thinking he can be both like we did.

"Dutch, get a fucking grip." Hosea hissed through gritted teeth as quietly as he could, Dutch tried to stifle his laughter as it turned to gasps and he covered his mouth with his hand.

"Hosea, there's no way. John is my son, he knows better–" Dutch began with a smile as John approached them from the main campfire. The young man was furious, his gaze sent a shiver even down Dutch's spine and his smile faded. So that's what I look like when I'm enraged.

"Are you sure about that, Miss Roberts? Cuz the way I see it, you've been sleeping with most of the goddamn camp. You sure it ain't Williamson's? Or maybe it's Morgan's? Or maybe, just maybe it's Javier's!" John snarled, walking past Dutch and mirroring Abigail's standoff position.

"John, is there even a remote possibility that you…" Dutch's voice trailed off. His anger had subsided a bit for now, surprised that it had come and gone so quickly. What if she's telling the truth? It's times like these I wish you were still here Annabelle, because you always knew how to read a situation. You'd be giving me that cross look right now, quietly telling me with nothing but your eyes how I ought to react.

"She was supposed to take care of it." John replied coldly, spitting on the ground angrily as he glared at Abigail who was now wide eyed and open mouthed. Something in Dutch cracked a bit, an old memory came back to haunt him at that moment. Did I sound like that to you, beloved? Was I that callous and cruel to you when we had our own scare all those years ago? He felt ashamed, as John must be looking as he did once upon a time when Annabelle thought she might be pregnant. I can see now why you reacted the way you did when you eventually did, that I made you feel that way.

"You asshole!" Abigail bellowed, picking up a rock and launching at John but missing him as Susan went to grab her and Hosea and Dutch went to grab John to keep them from tearing into each other.

"I ain't gonna hit her! I'm not you!" John roared, throwing both Hosea and Dutch off of him and shoving Dutch who planted his feet and remained solid. The leader snorted, grabbing John by an ear and hissing at him. No, you're not, you're a better man than I could ever be because we raised you that way. She is the reason you could be better than I ever will be.

"Get your ass to my tent, now." He shoved him towards the direction of the open canvas tent, his usually pale face flushed red as he panted.

"Arthur, come on." Hosea waved him over and gently placed a hand on Dutch's shoulder, "You need to calm down."

"I'm going to fucking kill him, Hosea!" Dutch snapped, trying to pull away but Hosea kept his hand firmly on his shoulder and gently squeezed.

"I know. Which is why you and I are going for a walk while your boys have a heart to heart." Hosea let go and gestured for the creek bed that ran adjacent to camp.

—-

"If she were here right now she'd be making fun of you again for becoming a grandfather for a second time." Hosea snickered, sitting on a boulder as Dutch frantically paced back and forth angrily.

"Don't remind me." He growled in response, kicking at a patch of dirt before finally deciding to settle on a boulder across from Hosea's to run his hand through his hair and chewing his bottom lip.

"John isn't ready. You weren't ready either, but you at least tried for the sake of your woman to try to be the kind of man who was. You know that boy is still grieving her as much as you are, probably even thinking the same thing you are right now. It's not going to end well. But, I look at this like it's a second opportunity for you. The family she left you is growing, Dutch." Hosea fidgeted with his pocket to produce a couple cigarettes for them and Dutch stood up again to retrieve it.

"The boy has a point, Hosea. She may claim that–" Dutch began as he put it into his mouth and went to find a lighter. No, Hosea I am not ready for the family to expand. I can't watch another woman give birth just to have that child and her die and leave John as heartbroken as I am. I won't do it.

"She's a night woman, she knows how to plan accordingly, I think they both wanted this to happen and now John is only getting cold feet because of the way you're reacting. I'm sure when Annabelle told you–" Hosea said gently.

"I wasn't angry, Hosea, I was scared. I was nervous, I was overjoyed, I was frantic, but I was never angry with her. Part of me…hoped it might happen someday, deep down, though I would never admit it to anyone including her. I knew the consequences but I continued to carry on like they weren't applicable to me. You know the first thing she said after she told me all those years ago when we ran with Colm, was that she would 'take care of it', like she assumed I would be furious with her. As though it were solely her fault and responsibility. When it was mine, I knew what I was doing Hosea. But," Dutch lit his cigarette with a sigh, "we were already married for four years when that happened. John is…young, naive, and maybe a little slow."

'Darling…'

No. I don't want to talk to you. You aren't her.

"What would she tell you to do, Dutch?" Hosea lit his cigarette and took a long drag as Dutch thought it over, scratching his chin with his right hand, his rings catching his eye for a moment.

"She'd tell John he needed to 'father the little bastard'. The way she came down on Arthur, once. Hell, she'd probably slap the shit out of him too for his little outburst and make him apologize to the lady." He chuckled, lowering his hand a moment.

"And?" Hosea exhaled through his nose and coughed for a moment, but pretended he had just taken the drag incorrectly.

"I can't force him to. He has a point. I mean, if it comes out looking like Williamson, then we know she's just using John and that's the end of that." Dutch shrugged and Hosea shot him a rather cross look.

"Do you even hear yourself? It's obvious the girl would know who the father of her bastard is because she chose him and he clearly chose her. What reason does she have to lie, Dutch?" Hosea shook his head in disappointment and Dutch sighed again, retreating to the rock and sitting on it while taking another drag.

"I don't want him to have to go through what we went through, Hosea. You, me, Arthur…Annabelle…and even Sue. I know she has no reason to lie about John being the father, but," he looked at the ground a moment, "I don't want him to suffer the same fate that this lifestyle gives to those of us stupid enough to think we can have 'both' a family and freedom. It doesn't work that way, we have to choose one or the other, otherwise it chooses for us. 'We live free or we die like dogs'."

"Everything dies Dutch. Even us someday." Hosea coughed again, covering his mouth with his sleeve and wheezing a bit, hoping that the dark haired man across from him wouldn't mention it.

"I know. It doesn't mean I have to accept that. I'm not ready to accept it." Dutch responded quietly, picking at his teeth a moment to retrieve a piece of loose tobacco that stung his gums.

"John needs to take responsibility for his actions, the way you and Annabelle made Arthur once upon a time. You can't protect him from heartbreak, Dutch, no matter how hard you try." Hosea said after a while, finishing off the cigarette and tossing it away from him in the dry creek bed.

—-

"It's a boy, Dutch." Susan's shadow loomed on the canvas outside as he sat listening to the record player and trying to read a book simultaneously. He had turned it up as high as it could go, trying to drown out the screams of Abigail on the other side of camp. More painful memories, no matter how hard I try to move on from you. The record player hissed as the last track had finished a while ago, but he had been too despondent to move to change it out or move the needle back to replay it.

"I see," he replied in a hushed voice, closing the book and standing up to take the needle off the record entirely and he heard her begin to open his tent, "and Miss Roberts?"

"Resting for now. John slipped out of camp, into town probably, I think she hoped that the closer she got to being due that he might settle a bit. But–" Susan was carrying the child in her arm, bundled up in ragged blankets and a hand knitted one that Susan herself had made during Abigail's pregnancy.

"I can't force him." Dutch didn't want to turn around, even as he heard the baby in Susan's arms begin to gurgle a bit in his sleep, scrunching his tiny face up as he debated whether or not to cry out.

"She named him John, after…well…" Susan approached, making sure Dutch could see her and the child she was carrying and he closed his eyes in response.

"Don't. I'm not ready to welcome him into the gang." He went to hold up a hand but Susan pushed it away and turned to him, pushing the child at him and he opened his eyes and looked down.

I know I'm supposed to be over the moon about this, but I just can't be. This child, that girl, John…they're just going to suffer the same fate we did, aren't they? I want to be the kind of man you thought I was, but I am nothing but a 'scarecrow in a cheap three piece suit' playing at being a father, a husband, and a grandfather, again. Colm's going to crush this child the way he crushed ours and you along with it. And if not Colm then some other monster. The law, the government, savages, it doesn't really matter who, does it? I couldn't even protect my own in the end.

"I'm only doing what she would do. Hold your grandson, you brooding bastard." Susan responded gently and he bit his lip as he accepted the newborn into his arms. There was that familiar feeling of anxiousness, joy, and bewilderment. I didn't think it would happen again.

"Jackie," he said in a near whisper, "that's what she used to call John sometimes. He hated it, allegedly, but I could see that he was lying through his teeth when she would say it. Have Arthur go fetch John from town. I need to talk to him."

He turned to Susan, gesturing for her to take the child from him and she did. She nodded, smirking a bit and gently nudged him with her shoulder.

"She was right, you know." Susan murmured as she went to turn away from him with Jack in her arms.

"About what?" He replied in an equally hushed tone as he picked at his bottom lip in thought.

"That you would be a great father. She didn't always give you what you wanted, but she knew what you needed. I know you're not much of a spiritually inclined man, but," she smoothed back the jet black hair on the child a moment, "she must've made quite the scene in heaven to make this happen for us."

"Maybe." He snorted, a sort of half delighted and half mournful noise as Susan retreated from the tent entirely.

'Darling…' That whisper that called out to him from time to time spoke again, though it had been a long while since he had paid attention enough to hear it.

"Making your point, are we beloved? Sending me another mouth to feed. It's not time yet, you were right, I have a family to look after. I'm not ready to deal with Colm yet, but I will be soon. Every little raid I launch on him is another wound and I hope it goes septic very soon. I can't protect them on my own, Annabelle. I need your help." He gently touched the place on his chest where his heart was, where she had touched him during the withdrawal period from the opium and told him that he would find her there in his dreams. "You're still with me, aren't you?"

'I will never leave you.' That whisper replied and he closed his eyes and hummed a moment, though he didn't feel her like he had before. That voice wasn't hers, but the sentiment was hers because he could feel it squirming under his palm.

—-

The letter remained unopened, having sat for a week now on his dining table, addressed to him directly in John's handwriting. He had already been gone when Arthur had gone into town, leaving nothing but the envelope addressed to Dutch.

"You're just gonna let him go, then?" Arthur folded his arms angrily as Dutch sat outside his tent on a stool with Jack tucked into one arm as he read a book in the other hand that was resting on his lap.

"I can't force him." Dutch replied quietly, turning the page as Jack slept pressed against him.

"Bullshit Dutch! When I got Eliza pregnant you–" Arthur snarled and Dutch looked up from the book coldly, placing a finger over his mouth and gesturing with his head down at Jack.

"You'll wake Jackie, Arthur."

"Dutch…why hold me to a higher standard than John? Say the word and I'll ride after him, I'll drag him back here and insist he do right by his woman and child. Beat it into him if I have to." Arthur hissed desperately and Dutch could see how his decision to let John ride off into the sunset was affecting the older of his two boys.

"It was different then, Arthur. I didn't hold you to a higher standard, Annabelle did, and you know I always gave in to her demands of me. John isn't ready–"

"And I was? I was barely the same age as he is! You're playing favorites, Dutch and that ain't fair. What about the code? 'Noble savages' and all that? John can shirk his responsibilities because he chose to bed a camp whore and deny to all of us that this child ain't his! She's a whore, Dutch, she chose John and John chose her. I don't give a damn that he ain't ready, I'm going to hunt him down and drag his ass back here!" Arthur spat, disgusted as Dutch continued to regard him with that same neutral expression as though he were blocking out Arthur's pleads entirely.

"No, we have work to do. Let him go, Arthur. We'll raise Jackie ourselves, with or without his alleged father. I raised you two, didn't I?" Dutch snorted, checking to make sure the baby was still asleep before retrieving his closed book and trying to find the page he was on.

"Dutch!" Arthur growled and Dutch looked back up at Arthur angrily.

"Don't you start Arthur. I already get enough shit from Miss Grimshaw and Mr. Matthews as it is for not going after him. I made my decision. Let John go. All of you."

Arthur didn't say anything, turning quickly away from Dutch and kicking a chair over as he stormed away towards his own tent.

He'll come home when he's ready to, the way we taught him to. I don't need to read the letter, I already know what it says without having to open it to know. He'll come home when he's ready to, we always find each other eventually.