Author's note: Did I say 2 parts? I totally meant 3. Also it's a little earlier than I anticipated.
"I like ya better this way, Dutch. I admit I was initially–" Molly began as she wrapped herself around him in bed, debating whether or not to turn his chin towards her as he stared up at the ceiling.
"I do sincerely apologize for the way I behaved when we first met, Miss O'Shea. But," he glanced over at her and pensively rubbed at his stubbly chin and chuckled, "I did keep my promise to you to be more…uh…civilized."
"Yer the first man that ever…" Molly blushed, shying away from him for a moment and he had to hide his disappointment from her. He quickly looked back up at the ceiling of her room in Blackwater and quietly rubbed his mustache.
Fuck, she's going to be difficult to get rid of after this. Here we go, the 'you were the first man I ever lay with' speech, like that means anything to me. Watch her be a real fool and fall in love with me, ignoring every opportunity I give her to get away from me.
"I was uncivilized before," he grabbed one of her hands from his chest and softly kissed the ends of her fingers for a moment, causing her to giggle before he set it back down where it had been before, "you forgive me, don't you?"
"Aye, I forgive ya. Though…it's just that…" She pulled herself up, leaning on her elbow as she turned sideways in bed and stared off into the distance. After a moment she realized he had a stray strand of hair in his face and she went to push it behind his ear again, but the moment she touched him, she stopped as he quickly looked at her and his expression went sour.
"Don't do that," he quickly tried to correct his facial expression into a more tender one and the woman relaxed, "a woman broke my heart a very long time ago and she liked to do that to me."
"She was a fool then, breaking yer poor heart like that." She replied with a smile, choosing instead to use her entire palm and swept it over his forehead to smooth his hair back. "Is that better?"
"Yes." He rolled over onto his side and pulled her in close to him to whisper in her ear. "Shall we have another go, then? Or have I exhausted you enough for one day?"
"I think we ought ta–" She began with a giggle when there was a knock at the door and her expression now soured, angrily glaring at it and huffing. She folded her arms and pouted for a moment before the door knocked again and she rolled her eyes. "Oy, whattawant!"
"I'm looking for Aiden O'Malley, I'm a friend of his, Mr. La Fonde." Hosea announced to the closed door, prompting Dutch to grunt as he rolled out of bed.
"Yes Mr. La Fonde, I'm here but presently occupied–" He laughed but he could hear Hosea click his tongue between his teeth and he sighed. Oh good, a fuckin' lecture, just what I really needed.
"Mr. Callahan and I have been working on something and I believe you might be curious to know all about it." Hosea began to tap his foot impatiently as Dutch grabbed his suit pants and pulled them on, sliding the suspender straps over his bare back and zipping himself up.
"I really oughtta take this." he gestured to the door with a smirk and Molly rolled her eyes, pulling the blankets up over herself to cover her nakedness and he turned back to the door, snarling slightly.
You know, Belle was vexing but not nearly as insufferable as this little Irish bitch.
He unlocked the door, opening it just enough that Hosea could step inside before shutting it again and gesturing to a small table and chairs on the other side of her large room. Hosea's eyes flickered over at Molly for a moment before snapping back to Dutch.
"It's a long story my friend." He chuckled, picking at his facial hair nervously and shrugging a bit.
"Oh I'm suuure it is, you been gone a while, Mr. O'Malley. I was getting worried about you–" Hosea teased when the woman interjected angrily.
"Don't ya be so impolite to THE Dutch Van der Linde, sir." She snorted and Hosea immediately blinked in confusion for a moment and turned back to Dutch.
"THE, you're earning goddamn titles now are you? You gonna be knighted next, your highness? Don't you remember what happened last time you gave some poor whore your real name–" Hosea folded his arms and the woman interjected bitterly yet again, causing him to immediately roll his eyes as he started coughing.
"I am a lady! How dare ya–" She fumed but Dutch put his hand up to quiet her, giving her a rather stern and cold look.
"This man is a very, very dear friend of mine. I'd appreciate it if you would keep your commentary to yourself. Please…" He tried to smile but he was certain that it must've seemed more like a scowl to her as she huffed again and snapped her head away from them, staring out at the window near the bed.
"Put on some goddamn clothes and meet me downstairs." Hosea hissed under his breath, spinning back towards the door and quickly exiting out of it, leaving the two of them alone together.
"He shouldn't get ta talk ta ya like that. That's all I'm sayin'."
"Molly…that man is my right hand, my trusted brother, and my closest friend. It's you who needs to learn a little respect, not him. I don't like petty and jealous women and…I never have." He grumbled, going back towards the bedside to retrieve his shirt and turn it rightside out, brushing the material a few times to see if it was still clean enough to be worn or if he should go back to camp later and change. He slid the suspender straps back down, taking a tentative sniff of his shirt and realizing he definitely needed to go back to camp.
I smell worse than a fuckin boar. I'd take a bath before but there's no point if I don't have something clean to wear. Susan's gonna bitch at me about the stench I'm sure. 'You smell like you've been rootin' around in the whorehouse.'
"I…" Molly unfolded her arms and sighed, shaking her head and laughing but he could tell she was laughing at herself. As though his sudden callousess was due to her overreaction and not the fact that he personally wasn't fond of her at all.
Right, the girl…well, you'd better prepare a damn good explanation for Hosea when you meet him downstairs and he inquires as to how it is you've been away from camp stuffing your cock into this girl for damn near a week. 'I have needs Hosea'...Hmmm, that could work I guess. It's an excuse I've used before.
"I will return in a moment, Miss O'Shea. You'll…keep the bed warm for me, won't you?" He chuckled and raised an eyebrow flirtatiously and the girl giggled, brushing her stray hair from her face.
"On one condition."
Jesus Christ…I do not understand women and their need for conditions and pinky swears and promises…
"Anything." He purred back as she motioned for him to approach her with her slender fingers and he did.
This is going to get real old, real fast. But…it has been a while since a young woman was eager and willing to please me…besides, I deserve a little companionship too, don't I? I could've taken one of the whores that hangs out at camp but…it feels like…No. No, I do not want to meditate on that right now.
"Give us a kiss, Mr. Van der Linde." She raised her eyebrows a couple times flirtatiously and he growled, slowly meandering across the room as he replaced his shirt and then his suspender straps but left it unbuttoned.
"Of course." He leaned down and tucked his fingers under her chin, pulling her towards him and teasing her by being close enough that she could feel his mouth but not actually press it to her. She tried to push towards him to actually kiss him but he quickly put his right thumb over her mouth to give her pause. "Haven't you ever heard that 'patience is a virtue', Miss O'Shea?"
"Just a little one." She pouted, pushing his thumb off her mouth with her hand before cupping his cheek and pulling him closer until they actually kissed. It was quick, probably quicker than she would've wanted or liked he realized, the sort of chastise kiss that all women really wanted from time to time though. Just enough to keep you around while I figure out how to dispose of you.
"I'll be back in a moment." He muttered as sweetly as he could muster as he straightened up again and started to button his shirt.
—-
"You've been busy." Trelawny lit his cigarette, sitting at a small round table with Hosea downstairs off in a corner and out of sight as Dutch approached and tugged on his vest a moment before taking his own seat.
"I am a man and I have needs, like all men do." He replied coldly, reaching for the bottle of bourbon between them and pulling one of the tin cups towards him to fill it.
"And so does camp. There was an incident between that vagabond you brought back a couple weeks ago and Miss Kirk last night." Hosea snorted as Trelawny passed the silver cigarette case to him and he retrieved a smoke of his own from it.
"Lovely. What did he do this time?" He set the bottle down and leaned back in the chair, looking down at the amber liquid for a moment before back up at Hosea.
"All I know of him is that he used to run in another outfit some time prior and was let go for his…unsavory methodology. You're not…indulging where you shouldn't, are you?" Josiah snickered, taking a drag and exhaling through his nose as he reached for his own cup now.
"I am aware of Mr. Bell's less than 'savory' past mistakes, but that is all they are. Mistakes. Gentlemen, we have all made an error or two in our time, haven't we?" Dutch reached into his pocket to find a cigar and cutter before giving Trelawny a sideways look. "I have not been where I ought not to be. And if I had, do you think I'd have the capacity to be mounting that girl as frequently as I have?"
"Dutch, I don't want to question you or your end game with this Micah fellow, but he essentially raped Miss Kirk. They were both drunk but she was far drunker than him. Now he's practically bragging about it to Lenny and Javier, and you know how those boys feel about her." Hosea inhaled and exhaled sharply, billowing silver smoke out as Dutch cut the cigar and Trelawny offered him a lit match.
"Sounds like Miss Grimshaw's problem if you ask me. You know I don't make it a habit to get involved in every little love triangle or affair that happens at home. Jenny is a grown woman, Hosea–" Dutch leaned forward with his cigar and puffed on it before Trelawny retreated and waved it out.
"He held her at gunpoint! Forced himself on her! What the hell is wrong with you! You're too busy burying your dick in that woman that you can't be bothered to get involved in the interpersonal politics of your camp! You leave me and Sue to deal with these issues just because you're in charge, huh? Are you, Dutch? Are you really in charge?" Hosea snarled, furiously bouncing one of his legs under the table causing the entire thing to rattle.
"She's the camp enforcer for a reason! You think I'm just laying on my back getting sucked and fucked by some little Irish harlot, huh? That I'm just 'taking it easy'? And yes, I am in charge, Hosea. Forget about Micah and Jenny and all that ancillary bullshit for a moment, I'll deal with it later, you said you had something cooking up with Arthur." He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.
I mean…you are essentially doing exactly that…
"Fine. But II strongly disapprove of the way you're toying with that girl, because I know you…you're a 'big boy' Dutch and you can stick your prick in that rattlesnake den all you want. Just don't come crying to me or Susan when it gets bitten off. You played this kind of game with Anna–" Hosea took a drag and exhaled loudly, looking away as Dutch let out an angry growl while taking a sip off his bourbon cup.
"She was different and you know it. Go ahead, kindly expand on what you mean by bringing her name up to me right now, old friend."
"No," Hosea looked over at him again coldly, "I don't. You know better than that. This game is that same scheme as it was back then. You gonna make an honest woman out of this one too, Dutch?"
"Hosea…" He snarled in a sing-song voice, he may have been smiling as though the jab didn't wound him. You might as well kick me in the fuckin' ribs O'Driscoll broke.
Trelawny seemed to sense the mood and cleared his throat to catch both of their attention for a moment.
"Gentlemen, we didn't come here to kick over spent coals. I think the real estate scheme and…whatever Mr. Van der Linde has planned for Miss O'Shea is sufficient enough for you to continue West like you planned." Trelawny waved his hands to try to break the tension between the two men but Hosea had begun to laugh, setting the cigarette down in the ashtray as he choked on both the smoke and his own lungs.
Thanks a lot Trelawny, you fucking sell out.
He had hoped that he could avoid cluing in Hosea as to the young woman's identity, at least, longer than this anyway.
"Revenge? Jesus Christ…" Hosea shook his head with a laugh as his wheezing stopped and went to take a drink off his tin cup.
"No…'revenge is a luxury we can't afford', remember? The girl has money, I don't know where or how much but she's wealthy and comes from a noble family. And I intend to liberate her of it. We need that money, Hosea. And I think Annabelle would've–"
"Bullshit! Unbelievable," Hosea stamped out his cigarette and stood up, taking a moment to smooth his palms over his clothing and still shaking his head, "...I hope you know what you're doing."
"I do. Just…have some faith in me, won't you? I know it looks like–ugh," Dutch set the cigar down in the ashtray and put his face into his hands, rubbing his temples a bit in frustration, "I know what it appears to be, I do, but I swear to you…"
"In any case," Trelawny interrupted, tapping the edge of his cigarette against the tray, "happy hunting, gentlemen. I'm headed back east for a while, but when you need me to handle the documentation, Mr. Matthews, do write to me. I'd be happy to lend a hand if I can."
—-
"Let me see if I have this story straight," Dutch sighed, rubbing the space between his eyes as Susan towered behind him with her arms folded indignantly as both Micah and Jenny stood in front of them at the big table, "you get off on pointing a gun at a woman while you're…engaged with her?"
"I know it sounds bad when you put it like that but–" Micah offered apologetically, holding his hands in front of him and chuckling nervously.
"Because it is, Mr. Bell. What kind of man puts a gun to a girl while he's fucking her…unless, he is actually raping her." Grimshaw snarled back, quickly eying the place she slept and debating whether or not she should retrieve her shotgun or not.
"It was my fault, I dinnae mean to get that…" Jenny wouldn't even look at Micah, continuing to stare straight at the ground in front of her and grip her own arms tightly. She was ashamed she had gotten that drunk, she hadn't meant to give into Micah's advances on her at all, but one thing had lead to another. She hated feeling weak, no better than the whores who hung out at camp, like she had all those years ago when Dutch took her in.
"Sweetheart, he hurt you, there's no shame in being honest about–" Susan offered quietly as Dutch removed his hand from his face and grumbled a bit, biting his bottom lip for a while as he thought it over.
He's unpredictable, unreliable, and a nuisance to this outfit. I should cut him loose now before he does something worse than just taking advantage of a drunk girl and fucking her while he's got her held at gunpoint.
"Miss Grimshaw and Miss Kirk, would you ladies excuse us for a moment?" He went to stand up, stepping over the bench gingerly and gesturing for Micah to follow. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and began to roll the fabric up past his elbows carefully.
But I need him if I'm ever going to have a fighting chance at Colm O'Driscoll. He's a fighter…a warrior, even. I need to use his chaotic nature to my benefit, somehow…
Micah stood up and tipped his hat to the women, earning a disgusted look from Miss Grimshaw but Jenny still refused to look at him.
"No hard feelings, sweetheart. I am sorry if I got a little…carried away." Micah raised an eyebrow and Jenny spun on her heels quickly, storming away as Lenny, Javier, and even Arthur regarded him coldly from their place near a smaller fire.
"Micah, a word." He looked over his shoulder and gestured in the direction of a stand of trees in the distance where the two men could speak privately.
"Of course, Mr. Van der Linde." Micah seemed to enjoy playing weaker than he actually was and Dutch knew it, you'd turn on me in a second if you knew my boys wouldn't put you down like the vicious man you are.
As they headed for the stand of trees, he eventually turned around and had already drawn a revolver and had it stuck against Micah. The man laughed, hopping back a little and eying it for a moment before looking up.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot, partner." Micah offered quietly as Dutch took a sharp inhale and chewed his top lip and mustache angrily.
"No, Mr. Bell, I warned you when you decided to follow me like the lost little cur you are.'' Yet despite his strong desire to simply pull the trigger and be done with it, he reluctantly lowered his revolver and stuffed it back into place. He reached into his pocket to look for the other portion of a cigar he had been smoking earlier, putting it into his mouth and chewing it with a growl before fidgeting for matches.
"I just…like I said before–" He waved his hands and shook his head, trying his best to look a mixture of frustrated and scared but his acting skills left a lot to be desired. Fuckin' idiot, like I'm some dipshit peasant who doesn't see right through this horseshit.
"Micah, I'm going to tell you a story in the hope you comprehend how I personally feel about rape. I had a woman once, not a whore or some runaway orphan girl with nowhere to go either, but my equal, real lovely woman too. Daughter of some rich asshole down South, a real lady, if you will…Mmmm," he lit his cigar and puffed on it for a moment before continuing.
"I watched her get torn apart by Colm O'Driscoll and his fuckin' gang, well…the ones that survived my Annabelle's fury anyway. She may have been a woman of refinement, but she was a goddamn animal when you cornered her in a fight, almost as much as I am. So…Mr. Bell, while I will forgive you because I require your capabilities…we are not friends nor do I have an iota of respect for you, let me be absolutely crystal fuckin' clear on that. The only reason you're not dead is 'cause I say so. Now…" He turned to spit at the ground before slowly lifting his head again, "do we have an understanding of what I will and will not tolerate in MY FUCKIN' CAMP!"
"Yeah…yeah we do, Dutch. I'll leave Miss Kirk alone." He began to back up but was surprised when the other man stepped forward and grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in dangerously close. He was unhinged, Micah realized, even in the shade of the trees he could see the feral gleam in those cold dark eyes. He needed to be more careful from now on, he realized, but his button pushing had certainly done something. He had learned something very valuable about the boss, now he just needed to keep that close to his chest until the right time.
"All of them. Should you foolishly kick the hornet's nest again, I will kill you. You so much as look at Miss Kirk again, I will fucking slit your throat and leave your rotting corpse for the crows and wolves. Stay away from the women in my camp, Mr. Bell. I will not warn you again." He let go and shoved Micah away from him, humming under his breath a bit as he folded his free hand around himself and continued puffing on his cigar.
—-
"I think we got off on the wrong foot Miss Grimshaw," Micah had one leg propped up on the stump they had been using to cut firewood as Susan mended a piece of Arthur's clothing and tried to ignore him entirely, "it's just…I contribute a lot of money to this camp and it seems rather unfair that–"
"Take it up with Dutch if you don't like it, not me, Mr. Bell." She scoffed, still not looking up from her work but loud enough in her sentiment that it caught the attention of her old beau who was reading under the shade of one of the trees.
Goddamn it. He inhaled and exhaled loudly, trying to decide how he was going to deal with Mr. Bell trying to kiss Susan's ass in order to get at the whores.
"Uncle Dutch?" Jack asked, leaning back in the man's lap and staring up at him. He blinked a moment, shaking himself out of thought and placed a hand on the boy's head.
"Right, where were we?" He tried to sound as cheery as possible but it was obvious that he was extremely displeased and agitated by what was going on nearby. He looked down at the book he had been reading with the boy but couldn't remember where they had left off.
"Hey…Dutch?" Micah had left his post at the woodpile and began to slowly meander towards them.
"Micah." He responded coldly, glancing over to acknowledge him before returning his attention to the book again.
"I uh…I left some money in the box. Gave a little extra to Pearson for some real food."
"How generous of you." He snorted as Jack wriggled nervously, whimpering a bit as Micah bent down and went to ruffle the child's hair but the boy pulled back in fear.
"Hey there buddy, whatcha readin' with ol' Dutchy, huh? Come on kid, I ain't gonna bite ya. Well…not hard anyway." He chuckled which earned him a rather intense and fierce look from Dutch, causing his smirk to fade and him to return to that apologetic fool he seemed to love pretending to be. "I'm sorry, I just thought I might get acquainted with the boy."
"Uh-huh. Anything else or can I resume educating the boy, Mr. Bell?"
"Well…I heard about a real golden opportunity in Blackwater, if you wanna hear it…"
"And?" He raised an eyebrow and returned to the pages of the book he held in front of him and the boy.
"A ferry. Loaded with gold and money. Gotta be at least a hundred thousand or more. Unguarded too."
He frowned for a second, humming a moment as he closed the book gently and set it off to the side, turning his attention back to the child and patting his back tenderly.
"Jackie, it seems Mr. Micah and I have some business to attend to. Take the book and go find your mother, I'll come find you again when we're done chatting." He smiled and the boy nodded in disappointment, rolling over his outstretched leg to retrieve the blue book and snatching it away. Jack clutched it to himself and slowly stood up, having to grab a hold of Dutch's shoulder as he helped scoop the boy back to his feet and sent him off with a pat. "Off you go, son."
They watched the boy trot away and he reached into his pocket to retrieve a cigar, while Micah fidgeted in his own pockets for a cigarette.
"You were saying…" Dutch murmured as he found it and realized there wasn't much of a cigar left, but getting up to retrieve one out of his tent was more trouble than it was worth right now. He tossed it away and was surprised when Micah tapped his shoulder with a cigarette and a box of matches. He took it from him, allowing the blonde to light his own first before lighting up himself.
"Boy has his father's nose." Micah snickered and Dutch rolled his eyes and shot him a displeased look.
"He ain't mine. I don't make it a habit of leaving my 'wild oats' inside of whores or any woman for that matter. Otherwise I'm sure there would be half a dozen or more of my bastards running around." He grumbled in response and Micah laughed, exhaling hard and blowing smoke through the side of his mouth.
"Oh? Won't take a woman at her word that she'll 'take care of it', huh?"
"No, and so far my 'paranoid' mentality regarding carnal pleasures has kept me out of both the frying pan and the fire so to speak. But, we weren't discussing my sex life, Micah, get back to your little ferry scheme." He exhaled through his nose.
"Right," Micah grunted, "look this could be the biggest score you ever bring in. You're already a legend, but think about how far that money could take you. You'd have plenty to…give away charitably like you seem to enjoy doing…and more. Enough to buy yourself a ticket to paradise if you wanted to."
"Paradise? Somewhere with swayin' palm trees, half naked Island women ready and willing to tend to my every need, and maybe even a nice hammock for me on some white sandy beach? Trade my guns for a sugar plantation? Or maybe even farm Mangoes. That the kind of 'paradise' you talking about Micah?" He laughed, taking another drag and crossing one leg over the other being careful not to strike his leg with his spur as he set it down.
"Could be. I hear Australia is a lot like how the West used to be. Wild. Untamed. Full of degenerate low lifes like us and probably plenty of damsels in distress and orphans for you to rescue. No Pinkerton's, No O'Driscolls, just freedom. That's really what you want, isn't it?" Micah raised an eyebrow curiously and Dutch scratched his neck for a while, half rubbing the tension in it and half itching it.
"What makes you so sure it ain't heavily guarded? When I was a younger man, we went out on a stagecoach job in New Austin. Easy money, allegedly. A wagon carrying silver and bank notes and more. So it was just Miss Grimshaw and I getting our hands dirty, she'd play the damsel in distress and I'd pick off the driver and his shotgun. Except…it didn't go that way. You see, the New Austin Bank was real tired of getting robbed by me, Annabelle and her boys, the Mexican banditos, and so on…Pinkertons, bounty hunters, oh and the fuckin' US Calvary showed up too. And the only reason I made it out of being bushwhacked by some asshole bounty hunter was because Annabelle decided to rescue me, even though she hated me."
"Now I find your dead girlfriend hating you very hard to believe. You're a real charmer. I don't see you being the damsel in distress if I'm honest. Women don't make strong leaders. Trust me, I looked into the ferry thoroughly, ask around yourself if you don't believe me." Micah took a last drag off his cigarette before tossing it away.
"She did. Though why she loved a loathsome piece of shit like me after I poisoned her, tried to have her executed by a rival, and dragged her reputation through the mud with her associates…I don't think I'll ever fully understand. Females are…complicated that way, the more you push them away the harder they fight to win you over I guess." He replied solemnly, taking his own last drag before tossing the smoke away.
Ah. Right, after all I have to figure out how to rid myself of Miss O'Shea too. Though, Micah's little ferry job might be just the kind of distraction I need in order to kill two birds with one stone.
"Well, think about it is all I'm asking. I uh, cleaned up pretty good the last time I robbed the ferry, there's about four thousand dollars in the box. It's a simple and easy job. And well, because of how much money I personally brought in, I think it might be–" He began but Dutch already knew where he was going with his conversation.
"Leave the women be Micah. You want a whore, go find one in town because you ain't finding one in my camp." He crossed his legs and went to stand up and brush himself off.
"Maybe I could take a crack at that firecrotch you've been cozying up with…if, of course, you're done with her?"
"You are certainly ballsy, I'll give you that. I am not quite finished with her yet. So, no Micah, you may not 'take a crack at it'." He grumbled, rubbing his face with his hands irritatedly.
"I apologize, I'm a man with needs after all. So, are you coming back to town tonight? Maybe we'll ride over together…"
"Sure." He replied, lowering his hands as Micah nodded with a smirk and started to back away leaving him to his thoughts.
'A man with needs', you held one of my girls at gunpoint and she lied through her teeth to not cause more problems just to satisfy whatever void exists inside you. Not that I'm one to talk myself, considering I remembered the time I used the same excuse when I tore into my beloved like a goddamn animal.
'Darling…'
Ah, back again are we? Though you're nothing more than a delusion of my own creation.
—-
'What the hell is wrong with you? I said 'stop'! I know you heard me mother fucker!'
This wasn't a dream but a memory disguised as one. Well, at least she's in it so I won't complain too much.
"Belle, I didn't hear you! I would never do anything to hurt you and you know–"
She slapped him, furiously shaking in her torn red and black dress with a gold patterned inlay, the one made of the same fabric as his vest. He felt his cheek sting for a moment before it began to throb and he briefly touched where the handprint mark would be but didn't rub it. It was pure hatred in her eyes, he knew, but her hazel eyes weren't heavy with salty tears anymore. There was no anguish, no hurt, and no love in her eyes…just rage and resentment, and that wounded him. But he would continue to lie to her anyway, just to save face even though it was the one thing about him she refused to tolerate.
'Bullshit! And now you've got the gall to lie to my face!' She tore the small gold band from her hand and launched it at him, it hit him and dropped to the floor, rolling away under the canvas of the tent and into the tall grass.
"Belle, sweetheart, I am a man with needs!" He laughed and she struck him in the face again, this time with an uppercut that knocked his teeth together and caught him completely by surprise. She rolled up her sleeves further, taking a boxer's stance and keeping both fists held up and glaring at him over her knuckles. He wanted to hit her back, grab her by the neck and throw her, maybe even choke her a little just to remind her what he could physically do to her.
'And I was your fucking wife, Dutch! You could've ASKED me and I would've GIVEN you what you WANTED! But I guess you're right,' she straightened up but maintained a readied stance as she backed away from him and continued to try to adjust her dress, 'you're a fucking piece of shit.'
"Was? Annabelle, you're being dramatic, sweetheart! I didn't hear you and I'm sorry! I just got caught up in the heat of the moment and–"
She spat this time, taking a long step forward and launching it directly into his face causing him to close both eyes and fume.
"Woman…you are playing a dangerous fucking game right now." He inhaled sharply through his nose and went to wipe her spit from his eyes with his hand, growling before opening them again.
'Go fuck yourself.' She snarled, stepping away when he grabbed her arm and yanked her back towards him, earning him another strike and causing him to grab her throat and squeeze.
"I said I was sorry Annabelle." He managed through gritted teeth, while he held her neck tightly in his grasp and delighted in feeling her heartbeat through the veins underneath his fingers, the rhythm of her heart did not change. It remained at that steady, even toned thump.
She was quick though, grabbing one of his guns and pushing it in between them, snapping the hammer back with her thumb as her index finger firmly secured on the trigger and not the guard. Her indifferent expression didn't change, nor did the hatred in her eyes, nor the calmness of her heartbeat as she swallowed and he let go of her neck and placed both arms up in surrender.
'It's over between us.' She said quietly, keeping the revolver raised and slowly backing away to the opposite side of the tent.
"Belle…" He looked away a moment and smirked, but this pissed her off even more and she actually fired the gun, raising it above her head and shooting a hole through the canvas before lowering it back at him again.
'I said…it's over, Mr. Van der Linde. Keep the fuckin' ring. Might fetch a nice price at a fence. I'm taking the boy with me before you fuck him up like you did Arthur.'
"Okay, Belle." It hit him, she wasn't being overdramatic or cute or even trying to toy with him like she usually did. She wanted him to know she had no qualms about actually shooting him, that she was serious about leaving, and that nothing he said to her would earn him her forgiveness. He could do nothing except let her go and hope that they could reconcile their differences later like they always did. He glanced at the floor and realized there was a dampness to the wood floor over where she had retreated, but when he looked back up she was already gone.
Carefully he knelt down to inspect the wooden platform and touched at the wet wood, it hadn't completely saturated the surface yet and when he pulled back to look at the tips of his fingers his heart sank. Blood. Not a large amount, but enough that the totality of what he had done weighed on him.
"It's probably just her menses." He muttered, retrieving his bandana to wipe the crimson from the ends of his fingers. Ah, his dick would be bloody too and he would need to clean that off before bed, if he could even sleep now.
He could hear Annabelle rouse John and demand he pack up whatever items of sentimental value he had and that they were leaving. The boy mumbled a bit, half asleep still and yawning as the woman retreated to retrieve her stallion, the angry footfalls of her boots crunching the grass with her every step.
Against his better judgment he went towards the small bookshelf in their tent and retrieved a small red book with a thin ribbon tucked inside of it, his spurs jingling as he followed the meager blood spatter out to where she had gone and into the night. She was already tacking up her animal, his revolver tucked in between her breasts as she fidgeted with the cinch and spoke in a hushed tone to the white animal. The stallion was being uncooperative, having been roused from sleep himself and inhaling a large amount of air to prevent her from getting the cinch to fit properly.
'Come on, don't be a fuckin' dickhead!' She chastized, waiting for the animal to exhale before tightening the strap around his middle.
"Here." He tossed the book at her and let it fall to the ground before turning on his heels towards the wash water.
'Heh, you're so fuckin' petty you'd fuck up my favorite book by throwing it near horseshit? Fuckin' peasant piece of shit!' Annabelle laughed, but he knew by the tone of her voice she was still heated as she scoffed in disbelief.
"Goodbye Annabelle." He unbuttoned his sleeves and started rolling them over his forearms, doing so as slowly as he could hoping that she'd take the bait and argue with him. But she didn't, instead she returned to her business with the Count and finally managed to get the cinch done correctly. She ignored him completely, even as he tried to be as casual as possible and watch her out of the corner of his eye as he unzipped and started to clean himself off. She wouldn't even look at him but made sure he could see that she was paying enough attention to his presence that if he made any sort of sudden move that she'd put a fucking hole in him.
"Going somewhere, Belle?" Hosea had woken up and slowly stumbled towards a dying fire to tend to a coffee pot.
'Yeah. You could say that, Mr. Matthews.' She replied coldly but wouldn't look at him either, as she grew impatient with John who was still in the process of deciding what he wanted to take with him.
"Coffee?" He asked her as she paced a little bit, chewing her lip and humming under her breath impatiently.
'That would be lovely, Mr. Matthews.' She finally replied, spinning in place a moment before approaching the fire that Hosea was getting restarted.
"Dutch? Coffee?" Hosea lifted his head from his busywork, trying to figure out exactly what happened that had both of them so pissed off. He knew they argued from time to time, but he had been woken up not by Annabelle pacing or messing with her horse, or even the gunshot but by her squeals and painful cries earlier. Dutch may have tried to keep her quiet as best he could, yet it had not been enough for those who were still at camp tonight. Even Pearson was awake, despite being completely drunk on rum and he too was watching the couple carefully.
"No. Thank you, Hosea." He finished and grabbed at a nearby towel to dry himself off before tucking himself back into his trousers and zipping up.
'Jackie, I don't have all fucking night! It's not complicated, just get your shit and let's fucking go!' Annabelle yelled across the fire towards the small canvas tent that the boy slept in. Her southern twang became more pronounced on certain words as her rage reached a fever pitch. Dutch felt his stomach turn every syllable and he couldn't tell if she was faking the drawl to her words just to piss him off or not.
"What's the rush, Miss Annabelle?" John called back in an annoyed tone that only made the woman angrier.
'DON'T FUCKIN' COMPLAIN JUST GET YOUR GODDAMN SHIT MARSTON!'
"Well if camp weren't already awake, they certainly are now, Belle. Why don't you just elaborate on what's got you all pissed off, huh? On the 'deplorable' shit I did to you this time!" Dutch rolled his eyes but she still wouldn't take the bait, still huffing and puffing and shaking her dark curls. If she fought with him verbally then he had a chance at preventing her from actually leaving him and he could craft some other bullshit to appease her.
"That's enough outta you, Dutch. I don't know what the hell has you two all hot tempered like a Spanish bull but being a bastard certainly doesn't help the situation!" Hosea called back impatiently, earning a dirty look from Dutch who snorted and tossed the towel back as he straightened his clothing.
'JOHN!' Annabelle yelled again, standing up this time from the seat she had taken a moment ago and stalking towards the tent.
"I'M COMIN'! JESUS CHRIST!" John screamed back, pushing the flap of his tent aggressively and storming past her towards the The Count, she cuffed him on the side of the head as he did.
'Don't you fuckin' mouth off to me you little shithead! Or I'll fuckin' leave you here with that piece of shit and you two can have all kinds of fun playin' at daddy and son!' She hissed as John rubbed the side of his head and paused to look at both adults. John was the first to notice it, her right hand did not have the ring that Dutch had given her anymore and it occurred to him what was going on. He dropped his small satchel to the ground and pulled out his knife, waving it at Dutch who had his back turned to them.
"What the hell did you do, old man!"
'Put the fuckin' knife away you fuckin' idiot.' Annabelle retrieved the satchel and shoved it at the boy to get him to continue moving.
"Belle, is everything alright?" It was Susan this time, wandering out into the open in her underdress and retrieving a cigarette from behind her ear.
'I'm fine! Just…fuckin' keep that asshole away from me!' Annabelle had retrieved the revolver from between her breasts and used it to gesture at Dutch, she had started crying again and as Susan went to comfort her, the dark haired woman pushed her away. 'Don't fuckin' touch me! Just…just let me go. It's over! So…just let me go…okay?'
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder…so they say." Hosea offered quietly as she began to walk past the fire again and back towards the horses.
'Not this time, Hosea.'
"Here we fuckin' go." Dutch snorted and Annabelle lifted the revolver over her head and fired off another round.
'I swear to GOD if you open your fuckin' mouth again I'm going to put a goddamn bullet down your gullet! I ain't playin' with you, Dutch Van der Linde! I will fuckin' put you down like a goddamn mangy rabid mutt if you so much as say another goddamn word to me!' She was shaking a bit as she held tightly to the revolver, lowering it back down and panting.
"Woman's on her cycle. Actin' crazy." He snickered, it was good to see her so pissed off, she'd probably come over and slap him. He could grab a hold of her again and someone would break them up, she'd be angry for a while but she'd come around. She always did.
She fired a third round and he could feel the bullet tear past his ear, burning the skin of the cheek she had struck earlier as it ripped past. She pulled the hammer back again and he froze completely, afraid to reach for his own face as he felt blood seep from the cut the bullet had torn across his cheek. He had forgotten how accurate she was, even in the dim light of the coffee fire, and he knew the fourth round would not miss if she shot again.
"Annabelle!" Susan quickly looked over at Dutch who remained fixed in position, his eyes wide with fear as he realized he could no longer bait his woman into a fight without her actually killing him. Hosea too seemed shocked that the woman had actually shot at Dutch, though having known her for a long time, realized that what she had done was a warning to her lover. Letting him know full well if she wanted to kill him where he stood, she could and would without a second thought. But he had never seen her this absolutely feral over whatever her beloved had done to her this time. This was not an ordinary lover's squabble anymore.
'I gave you everything I had, and I will give you nothing more, ever again! You hear me! You follow me, chase after me, or god forbid run into me ever again…I will fucking kill you. You hurt me on purpose, Dutch and now you're lying through your teeth about having done so! You know goddamn well I ain't bleeding on account of my condition of being a woman, the fact you're pretending it isn't 'cause of YOU is degrading and insulting! You didn't ask, you just took, thinking that I would roll over like the stupid little bitch I am for you, like I always do! Well...I ain't rollin' over anymore, it's about damn time I showed you my fuckin' teeth for all the bullshit you've put me through over the years!' She began to retreat towards the Count, leaving him still wide eyed and opened mouthed as she mounted behind John and sped off into the darkness.
—-
"You look like hell, Dutch." John glanced up over his coffee at him as he paced the room, picking at his chin for a little while before returning to the table with the carefully drafted plan of the ferry robbery.
"Probably just a little saddle sore." Micah teased, bouncing his ankle on a knee and causing his spur to jingle loudly.
"I didn't get much sleep, that's true, but I'll be alright," he replied quietly, looking over the details again one more time, "now…are you certain the ferry is undefended, Micah?"
"Positive. You can have your fancy English friend verify it if you don't believe me." He folded his arms indignantly and snorted.
"Josiah?"
"It seems a little…too good to be true if you ask me, but…I admit, the vagrant might be right on this one. I haven't heard a word about Pinkerton's or armed escort, and I checked thoroughly." Trelawny replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke and giving Micah a sideways look.
"Landon Rickett's is in town too. Maybe we ought to reconsider…" Jenny murmured, folding her arms and legs and looking like she was trying to shield herself as Micah spat before looking at her.
"Heh, and here I thought you weren't yella, Miss Kirk. Guess I had you pegged wrong."
"Leave the girl alone asshole." Javier put a hand on his sidearm and Micah responded in kind.
"Or what, you fuckin' greaser?"
"Micah, enough." Dutch clicked his tongue between his teeth and the dirty blonde chuckled, throwing his hands up in surrender.
"My apologies."
"Fuckin' right! Ya think yer so tough, doncha Mr. Bell? Like we all don't know what ya did ta Miss Kirk bein' the real big man ya think ya are! I oughta feed yer balls to ya, ya sorry sack a shit!" Sean snorted now, leaning forward in his chair as he carefully withdrew his knife and pretended to clean it with his bandana.
"He's useless, Dutch. Man can't hit the broadside of a barn if he ain't less than fifty paces from it!" Davey grunted, tapping his foot impatiently.
"You two potato eatin' bastards wanna try me?" Micah sneered, reaching for his gun again when everyone noticed Dutch put both his hands on his.
"You sound like a bunch of whiny whores, boys. I don't give a damn who has a bigger cock than who. Are we making some goddamn money or not? You fools wanna keep doing this forever? Huh? This ferry is a unique opportunity to make more than enough for all of us to retire comfortably. White sandy beaches, palm trees, half naked island women ready to tend to you boys every need…and I mean every need." He chuckled as did the rest of the gang, except Trelawny who shot him a rather cold and mean look.
The hell you looking at me like that for, you slimy limey bastard.
"Exactly! You boys really think if I didn't pull my weight on this job that ol' Dutch here would be in on it too?" Micah exclaimed irritatedly, standing up from his chair with a growl and pacing the small warehouse they had been working out of.
"Would you gentlemen mind if I had a word with Mr. Van der Linde…" Trelawny stomped on his cigarette that had finished and went to grab another, "alone."
His boys all looked at one another. Arthur and Hosea were off running whatever scheme they had going, so it was just Davey, Mac, Sean, John, Javier, Micah, and Miss Kirk who had joined them this afternoon in the warehouse. Dutch nodded quietly as the group got up and began to shuffle out, leaving the two men alone together in the dusty space.
"What, Trelawny?" He asked, pushing himself away from the desk he had the map on and turned around to lean against it, folding his arms and reaching for a cigar as the man retrieved his silver cigarette case from his breast pocket and snapped it open.
"It's how he came by this information that concerns me, Mr. Van der Linde. Other gangs won't touch it. Doesn't that…concern you?" Trelawny raised an eyebrow as he popped a cigarette into his mouth.
"Why would it? You said you hadn't heard anything, unless you're lying to me in front of them to save face…" He responded coldly with a grumble, finally finding the cigar, putting it in his mouth and chewing it a little in frustration.
"What would she say about this? Look, I won't question your ability to keep this family she gave you safe from harm, but…surely you sense there's something off about all of this too?" Trelawny replied, doing a slight of hand trick to light his cigarette and tossing the match on the floor.
"I'm not stupid, Josiah."
"I know you aren't. And I'm not implying you are, Dutch, old boy…there is a woman that works for the ferry. Pregnant too. Heidi McCourt. She gave the same information to the Sampson Brothers, the Dalton gang, hell…even Adams. But they aren't biting, so why the hell are you?" Trelawny exhaled slowly, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth and looking at Dutch with genuine concern now.
"They're afraid, I'm not. For a man who comes and goes as he goddamn pleases to a family I'll never have, you certainly seem to enjoy telling me just how much I'm letting her down. I get it, you fucking despise me, yet you maintain a friendly rapport with me for the sake of the woman I loved. She's dead, Josiah. I watched her die. You really think I don't still think about that anymore, because I can assure you, I do. All the time. And there will never be a time I don't miss Annabelle. But she is fucking dead, buried under a goddamn ridge in…" He stopped, chewing the cigar a bit harder to the point he could feel the tobacco loosen and stick in his teeth and gums, burning him. He took it away and turned his head to spit, trying to get rid of the stinging sensation and the taste out of his mouth.
"I have never doubted how much you loved her, Dutch. Nor did she. I don't try to comprehend it and I don't think I ever can. But tell me...where is the man she fell in love with?"
"He doesn't exist. Rather…he cannot exist. It was my delusional nature that–fuck…I don't want to talk about her anymore. I'm doing the best I can. I know it isn't 'good enough' for you, that she would have plenty to say I'm sure if she could, but she is dead. And I can't…" He covered his eyes with the palm of his hand and gritted his teeth.
Goddamn it. In front of this asshole of all people.
"If something goes wrong, she isn't here to save you, but…I am. Those boys are. Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this? Hosea–"
"I don't want redemption, I want to be remembered! If this job is how it ends for me then so be it," He wiped his tears away and laughed, "gunned down by fuckin' Landon Ricketts. Wouldn't that be somethin'."
"Very well. Do you want me to look into the woman who fed your boy the information before you make your move?"
"No. I've gotten them all this far, haven't I? 'We live free or we die like dogs'."
"We live free or die like dogs, Mr. Van der Linde. I hope for her sake it's the former and not the latter."