Chapter 9
It took what felt like an eternity for Colm O'Driscoll to finally land on the snowy ground, and when he did, all Arthur felt was a surprising amount of numbness. He was the arch-nemesis and former friend of himself or Dutch, and the sadistic and cruel leader of the O'Driscoll Boys.
Gone.
Another death in the habitat of the Wild West.
He didn't bother to conceal his cruelty, but Arthur didn't know how to felt as he replayed the events of what he'd just done. It was necessary, a cruel necessity. Could he have done anything differently?
It wasn't the first life he took, nor would it be the last. But it left him to feel very unnerved, disgust worming up in his system as he'd thought about the bond that they used to share. They were... friends. He may have been an enemy of Dutch, but it wasn't anything personal as far as Arthur was concerned. He hadn't thought 'bout how he'd tortured him since it happened, having plenty of time to grumble 'bout it, before moving on.
Colm O'Driscoll was a monster, murderer, robber, and rapist. But half of those titles fit every member of the Van Der Linde gang, including Arthur. He'd never forced himself on another, but he'd labeled those other titles to a horse. He'd allowed Kieran to suffer for weeks in the other lifetime, approving of starvation and threats against an innocent man.
Technically, Dutch've started it. He killed Colm's brother and in return, Colm murdered Annabelle. This of course only strengthened the hatred and rivalry between the two and their gangs.
Once, the Van der Linde gang once planned to rob a stagecoach, only to find it filled with women and children. The gang chose to abandon the robbery and let the innocents go their way. However, they later discovered that the O'Driscoll gang encountered them down the line and robbed and killed them all.
Did Colm have anyone who cared about him? Those who he'd abducted didn't matter for a brief moment. Did Arthur just made children orphans, a woman a widowed, his parents childless? Colm had no care or a genuine relationship when it came to his men whatsoever, not even bothering to know their names. However, every evil person out there had someone who cared about them.
Good people don't kill anyone. Good or bad. They'd allowed the law to take matters into their own hands. And so maybe, Arthur wasn't a good man, not entirely. He'd wanted to be, but the best way to describe him was morally gray of anything else. He would never kill people for the hell of killing, no matter if they were hostages or not. He just couldn't do it. But it didn't meant he wasn't a saint.
He lowered his gaze, diverting the weapon down at the direction where Colm collapsed. He was overwhelmed by the feeling of... curiosity? What would happen now that the leader of the O'Driscolls were dead and gone-killed earlier than the last life?
Colm was no longer a friend and had not been for a long time. He hadn't held back any longer, intent of destroying everything for control and power. He had done many people a favor. There were no other justifications to be made. Simply put, Arthur couldn't laid down the gun just yet. If he'd ever been given the chance.
What snapped him out of his thoughts were the sound of Colm's mount, the American Standardbred, neighing in fright, shrieking, before dashing away in the snow.
Arthur watched as a few men dashed over to the body of Colm.
Kieran was... alive.
The poor boy was stuck between approaching and retreating, his hands shaking as he didn't know what to do. The men who passed him to their fallen leader shoved him to the side.
Arthur knew he had to grab the boy now. He had to get Kieran the hell out of here! And quick!
One spotted him. "Over there! On the tower!"
All of their eyes went from shocked and borderline terrified to angry and vengeful. They all raised their guns. All of them paid for it. Now, he didn't hesitate as he fired, catching them all in vital areas; the neck, forehead, or spine. None was spared.
No time for doubts!
Kieran screamed and dropped, his hands falling over his head. Good. That could work. Would have to be very careful with his bullets. Shooting those who came close, Arthur took the moment of reprieve to jump off of the tower and land on the ground, knowing that just staying there would be a death warrant if they'd swarm around him.
He aimed at the general direction of the nearby O'Driscoll who kicked poor Kieran in the side.
"Get up you goddamn coward! Be a man!" He heard, followed by a grunt from the poor boy.
Someone on top of the nearby building's bullet came right past his body, almost shunning him. Arthur paid him back with a shot right through his chest, causing him to stagger back 'till he was falling off, collapsing on the ground.
He put the rest of the advancing men down, making a path for Kieran.
Just a little further!
Where was the goddamn rest?!
Right?! On top of the bloody mountain?! Was this punishment questioning Dutch even earlier?!
He'd expected Dutch, Micah, Bill, and Javier to leave him to die.
But would Lenny...
Goddamn it, he should have just followed Colm and took him out silently without Kieran being in danger! Now, he was actually desperate for help.
He aimed at the O'Driscoll almost manhandling Kieran, this time hitting him in the stomach and chest, and causing him to finally collapse. They focused on him, with Arthur only peeking out, firing at them, injuring some, missing others.
Just a little further...
When Kieran was stolen from him. The horse, Branwen, took several bold steps and, in a moment of confidence, the lowest O'Driscoll of them all gripped the reins, the horse taking off as he'd slowly positioned himself on top of the horse. Some bullets traveled near the traveling horse, a few bullets almost came at the creature's leg.
Not expected, but something Arthur could take advantage of...
"Hey! Come for me you bastards!" Arthur exclaimed, taking a few warning shots which diverted their attention to him.
Few of the bullets came close to the cover he was behind, a thick wall. He waited, hearing them coming closer, spending many of their bullets as he'd stayed close. Behind the cover, he sniped clean with his revolver, staying determined as each of his shots connected to O'Driscolls. He couldn't decipher how many he'd killed at this point, but he had to force himself not to care. Now was not the time for mercy.
His shooting was still sights for sore eyes. In general, Arthur was always an amazing shot. One good thing about contrasting tuberculosis, since Arthur lacked the physical advantage, he'd excelled in his shooting and became even more proficient at it. Beforehand, he often used his muscles and strength to overcome obstacles. It was only on his last legs when even that abandoned him.
Now, that was gone.
Turning, he fired six more shots at the men near the buildings, striking and killing four of them and injuring two of them. While there were obvious signs of O'Driscolls in the area, Arthur'd known they were frantic, a helpless bunch after the death of their leader, making it easier for them to dispatch.
The saddening fact was proven when he looked to see a wounded O'Driscoll - the last one left here - and aimed at him, only to find his arm over his shoulder, his gun empty as he stared at him, throwing it down, putting his hands up.
Arthur hesitated for a moment.
"Pl-please don't kill me. I never wanted to work for him. I would leave. I have a fami-"
The bullet pierced through his head, dropping the poor boy onto the ground. Just a goddamn boy. Arthur was 'bout to, have killed, a boy. But it... wasn't his gun where that bullet came from.
The familiar form of Micah snaked next to him, his pistols smoking.
"Needed my help, huh, Morgan?"
"You didn't have to do that. He was-" Arthur began to protest, staring down at the poor boy with nothing but pity.
"Oh oh oh," he cackled snidely, "come on, Arthur, don't tell me you're getting soft for these O'Driscolls. You took out their leader. Do you honestly think they would show you the same mercy if we take 'em in?"
Always goddamn Micah Bell.
But Arthur hated to admit through his gritted teeth that the goddamn fucker had a point.
He couldn't afford to get emotional through combat. That was a way to get himself shot, stabbed, or maimed in some other way.
He'd searched for Lenny, shooting at more O'Driscolls 'till he found the goddamn boy, taking down three of them with his sniper before casting that aside and using his revolver to take down another two.
An O'Driscoll aimed behind him, only for Arthur to fire at him and catch him in the chest, knocking him back. Surprised but recovering from it quickly, Lenny delivered the finishing shots, nodding in appreciation as he offered a small smile to Arthur.
"Looks like I gotta work on focusing on my surroundings, whatcha think, Arthur?!"
"You have no idea..." Was it sarcasm or was it a truth? If he did, maybe he wouldn't have died during that bank robbery.
Arthur moved over to his direction. Worry 'bout Kieran later. Worry 'bout Lenny now.
The two worked side by side, taking down any O'Driscolls who came close to them.
Predictably, they found Bill who was blowing away any O'Driscoll with restless abandon with his Bolt Action Rifle, and they'd offered aid, 'cause Arthur was unsure if he'd wanted the fat idiot to die.
Arthur switched to his Lancaster Repeater and fired at the nearest ones in sight.
Those were the last O'Driscolls he'd murdered for the day.
The camp was promptly cleared out minutes later. Those who survived were mortally wounded. Their deaths were slow and painful. Goddamn barbarians, they all were. Arthur was no better.
Micah stood over a whimpering, bleeding man with a sadistic smirk as he stared down. "Aww, look at the poor O'Driscoll. It's so fun when they bleed."
His eyes gleamed with the pleasure of the carnage. It'd sickened Arthur. How could Micah so savagely enjoy these men's literally barely clinging onto life, only able to open their eyes from the graves if anything else?
Arthur could only wish he'd been able to shoot Micah here and now. Goddamn it. The rat always had to survive. Always the survivor! He was right 'bout that too!
Micah kicked the man in the gut, forcing him to groan and roll slightly, but making his death all the more painful for him.
The man'd enjoyed killing, but he loved staring in the eyes of his victims even more. The classic gunslinger.
He approached the form of Dutch who stared down at the corpse of Colm O'Driscoll. The man appeared to be sadden and disappointed for a moment.
"It's over now, Colm." Dutch expressed, and Arthur again remembered before all of this when he was staring at him like that too. There was no anger across his face, just familiar disappointment as if expecting more. "Send my best regards to your brother."
As Arthur approached, Dutch's lips broke out into a smirk and stepped over the dead body of Colm, proving his moment of sentimentality as bullshit and nothing else. One last sign of disrespect to the dead.
"Well done, son," Dutch praised, and Arthur fought the warm sensation that crawled up his chest at being praised by this man who would have left him to die.
"It was necessary," he replied, doing his best to hide any contempt from his tone. "Colm had to die."
Somewhat surprising that Dutch wasn't angry that he'd went against his command and put this whole thing at risk now thinking 'bout it after he'd called him out for what happened in Blackwater, but the fact that he'd finally got rid of Colm and send the O'Driscoll gang into disarray clearly succumbed any sorts of negative emotions he may felt towards Arthur.
The most he'd offered Arthur was a nod. He barked to the others, "Did we get everything?!"
"Think so, boss, found this on them!" Micah shouted, handing off the map to him.
As they gathered up everything, Arthur toned out Dutch rambling off. His heart froze as he'd contemplated what was to come next.
Everything led back to Leviticus Cornwall.
Arthur had the clear mind to think 'bout the ramifications of killing Colm earlier. The train robbery was still going to happen, Arthur was unsure if he'd changed that much.
"Hey, Dutch," Javier said, walking up with the O'Driscoll, the same one he'd knocked out earlier. Oh, damn it! He'd honestly didn't think 'bout what that would lead to! "Find this cabrón on the tower. Think John knocked him out earlier."
"Well done, son," Dutch praised, slapping the standing at attention Javier on the shoulder. "He might know where the others are. With the death of O'Driscoll, we are one step closer to winning this. Load up our... guest, would you?"
Part of Arthur wished he wouldn't. That Javier would disobey, show any signs of doubt. But all that came was a curt nod of respect, like the good little dog he was.
'What happened to loyalty, Arthur?'
'Oh, so it's true... you're undermining us all... just when it matters the most?'
John and Javier were incredibly close, always have been. But how the hell was he going to get Marston to see the real Javier? The same one who would plot with Micah and Dutch? The same one who would leave them to die if Dutch so commanded it? Javier was full of a lot of passion for something he was loyal to but had no love. If Dutch told him to jump off of a moving ferry into a raging pack of hyenas, he would do it, out of loyalty. When the situation came down to it, Javier may take far too much time to show the truth. Lenny and Sean could possibly be broken free. Charles had been before.
Arthur watched as the Mexican obeyed, hog-tied him, and placed him on Boaz's back. Arthur knew hell awaited the poor man, but he couldn't blame Dutch entirely this time. He didn't even know his intention. Hell, if he'd never even met Kieran before, he would have assumed that he was also an O'Driscoll, no matter of his pleads and begs.
As the sun began to set and the skies turned dark while they moved back to one of the many lakes, Arthur resisted taking off. Where the hell did Kieran end up to? He may have freaked out and turned tail... Damn, well as long as he found some decent folks. Maybe it would be for the best.
But... not in this weather! The boy might as well freeze to death!
Dutch said: "Arthur! You see that fella? Wasn't he at the camp... with Colm?"
There was a figure in the distance. He was taking off in the blizzard, his horse moving as fast as it could under his command. Kieran. He must have took the longer route to avoid the gunfire but ended up in the same place just to escape. A gamble of luck for Arthur.
"Leave him to me," he demanded.
"Are you sure you want to leave Mr. Morgan with the job, boss?" Micah interjected, just as Arthur was 'bout to take off. "I mean no disrespect, but he'd been acting different since Blackwater. I'm concerned."
Bullshit, if Arthur'd ever seen it.
Dutch's eyes landed squarely on the rat, "Mr. Bell, I understand your concerns, but Arthur had proven himself today," he declared, much to Arthur's shock deep down. He'd never thought he would see him glaring at Micah again. "What he'd accomplished today was no small feat. He'd killed Colm O'Driscoll. He'd proven that despite his... controversial views, he still wants what's best for the gang."
"Yes, Dutch," Micah complied, though not without eyeing Arthur for a moment with an uncertain look in his eyes.
The leader turned to Arthur, "You go get the O'Driscoll, son, and again good work."
Unable to deny the urge to spare a momentary smirk of satisfaction at Micah's direction, the third in command of the Van Der Linde gang urged his horse forward, after Kieran.
Time to right a wrong...