MAY 1899
It had been late morning when Johanna Lynn had been called downstairs from her room in the family home by her mother, Elizabeth Lynn. The well-dressed and thin redheaded woman had been standing in her parlour, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Three men stood in the parlour, two of them looking raggedy with worn dirt-covered clothes, while the oldest of the three was well dressed in a pristine white pinstriped shirt and spotless black waistcoat and trousers. He smiled wide when his green eyes landed on Johanna.
"Da…" Johanna spoke when she recognised her father. Colm O'Droscoll.
Colm nodded, walking around his daughter as he took in her appearance. "She's grown up to be quite the beauty." He rasped, the comment directed at Elizabeth. While Johanna was now nineteen years of age, she had only seen her father a handful of times, but he always sent one of his goons to drop off money to Elizabeth to see to the rearing of his daughter. Colm twirled a strand of his daughter's strawberry-red hair between his boney fingers as he turned around to face her. "She's even got my eyes!"
"If you bothered to show up at all as I was raising her, you would have learnt that years ago." Elizabeth snapped, her Irish accent thick as she put herself between Colm and her daughter. "I've called her down as you've asked. Now speak what you want to speak and be gone."
"I need her to help me with a problem," Colm stated simply, stepping away and sitting down on one of the parlour's plush couches. Elizabeth Lynn had done well for herself in the last twenty years. Having to retire from her career as a working girl when she fell pregnant with Colm's child, she started up her own brothel in Strawberry, which now worked under the radar of the town's seemingly 'purist' mayor. To anyone on the outside, she simply ran a boarding house for young unmarried women, teaching them how to cook and clean so that they could one day be of service to their future husbands and inlaws.
Elizabeth scoffed, shaking her head. "And what problem is that? Having issues with Dutch van der Linde again?"
Colm frowned deeply after that, sitting up as he glared at the aging woman. "Careful, Elizabeth, you may be the mother to my daughter, but you are nothing to me." She didn't flinch from his threats. Elizabeth had dealt with many aggressive men over the years, both clients of her brothel and her own clients from her working days. After over forty years, they just stopped being scary, just sad and pathetic men in her eyes. Colm leaned back on the sofa once he was satisfied with Elizabeth's silence. "He and his gang shot up some of my men up neat Colter and even robbed a train I was eyeing to steal from. But then I heard he saved some girl that my boys had played with, and I got an idea." His eyes landed on Johanna as that same wide green returned to his aging face, the look making Johanna want to shrink back. "What if I could get a sweet little thing in their camp, someone who could whisper me information about their plans."
"You want to use Johanna as a spy?!" Elizabeth barked, outraged at the idea. "Dutch would kill her simply for being your daughter. He already killed your brother, and now he wants you dead, and you want to put her into a den of vipers?!"
Colm frowned again. "She's a pretty little thing. Just having her bat her eyelashes at those fools would have the men eating out of her hands."
"She's not a working girl. She has no experience in charming men!" Elizabeth barked again, stepping closer to Colm, not caring for his two goons as they reached for their weapons holstered at their hips.
Colm stood up, the frown on his face deepening into a scowl. "I'm not asking for permission." With a nod of his head, his men drew their guns on the two women. "Johanna will be leaving with me." He stepped closer to Elizabeth, his hand reaching around her throat and squeezing tight. For all the fear and cruelty he put into his actions, the woman still didn't flinch. She just merely glared at him. She wants to swear at the man, to kick and scream. But she knew she couldn't, not with Johanna standing behind her. She couldn't let her daughter see what would happen. Colm wouldn't hesitate to kill Elizabeth. He wouldn't care that his daughter would watch her mother die by her hands.
"Johanna," Elizabeth started, speaking with as much strength as possible. "Go and pack your things."
Colm chuckled, his grip on Elizabeth's throat lessening. "Good choice."
The horse-drawn stagecoach rocked as it moved down the old gravel road, certain large rocks causing the housed chamber where Johanna sat to lurch side to side, making the woman almost fall from her seat. She had to reach out to one of the open windows, gripping the sill as she tried to steady herself. Her eyes were closed as she breathed. The young woman hated riding in stagecoaches, this only being her second time. She'd never even ridden a horse before. Her mother had kept her close her entire life, keeping her locked away in the ivory tower that was her bedroom. Her mother had spoken strongly of the dangers that existed out in the west of America, with tales of native savages, banditos and gunslingers. Johanna opened her eyes, green orbs looking at her stagecoach window to take in the landscape surrounding her. She had always seen them from a distance outside her bedroom window, but she was genuinely amazed to finally have the chance to see the towering mountains and valleys that seemed to go on forever.
It had been over a week since her father had come and taken her from her home in Strawberry, taken her from her mother, under the threat of killing the older woman. That's how she ended up in this stupid stagecoach. It had been her father's idea to use his 'young and beautiful' strawberry blonde-haired daughter to better his business by taking out his rival, a man named Dutch. She knew nothing of the man or his gang, only the blood feud that existed between Colm and him. All her father needed was to stage a robbery near Dutch's gang. He knew that the 'honourable' thieves would come running to the assistance of a woman screaming for aid, where they would 'save' young Johanna, and, in playing the weeping damsel with nowhere to go, they would welcome her with open arms. Johanna rolled her eyes. Her father was an idiot if he thought this plan would work. When the stagecoach lurched again after hitting a rather large stone, Johanna had rocked in her seat hard enough to slam her head into the window sill. The woman hissed, gabbing at her head, moving her hand down to her eyes to see if there was any blood. There was. Johanna swore, pulling out her handkerchief and holding it against her wound, using pressure to try and stop the bleeding.
Her father had arranged for one of his men, in disguise, to be the driver, but Johanna was convinced the man was an idiot. The man was to pull around the outskirts of Valentine, around Horseshoe Outlook, as many of the rival gangs had been seen in that area, leading her father to assume them to be camping in the area. A bunch of his men would swoop in on their horses, purposely firing off rounds into the air and have them ransack the stagecoach's planted luggage and bolt off when the rival gang came riding in to investigate and save the poor girl. Johanna had been put into a well-made silk gown for the staged event, parts of it already torn to make it look like she had been attacked. She guessed her new head injury would play into it too.
"Misstress Lynn?" The driver called out to her. "We're almost at the staging point!"
"Very well!" She yelled back to him, preparing him to stop the stagecoach. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her nerves. She had seen some of her mother's working girls act before, even had some of them advising her how to trick a man back when she was still a young teen until her mother found out and put a stop to it. When Johanna felt the stagecoach lurch a final time as it stopped, she looked out the window, still holding the handkerchief to her head. She could hear the galloping of horses and the firing of rounds in the air, men yelling as they got closure. She noticed the green bandanas around their faces, shielding their identity and marking them as O'Driscoll's, her father's men. The driver had jumped down from his seat, taking off running as he'd been instructed to, but Johanna screamed for real when she watched the man fall forward as a shot rang out. She continued to bellow as she watched his fellow gang member's horses trample his body.
That wasn't planned. She wasn't informed that it would happen at all. Her breathing was heaving as the stagecoach door was yanked open, and one of the men grabbed her and pulled her out, shoving her into the arms of another man. She screamed as she felt the man's hands holding her, gripping her dress and tearing the fabric. Johanna fought against him, gagging as she could smell his foul whiskey-tainted breath. She screamed again, shoving hard at him. He threw her to the ground, laughing at her. The other men joined in on the laughter as one of them began to toss down luggage from the stagecoach's roof. Johanna stared at them. She didn't understand. This isn't how it was supposed to go.
The one that had manhandled her knelt in front of her. He was still chuckling. "Ya daddy said not to harm ya, but me and the boys thought we'd have some fun, make it look real. Ya, just a bastard, after all." He snickered, looking back at the men behind him. When he looked back at her, he moved to stand, but his body jerked backwards as a gunshot rang out. More shots followed, shooting the man off the roof and another one standing off by the stagecoach. The men began to panic, bolting for their horses before the animals could flee in terror. Johanna watched as the stagecoach took off, leaving her panting heavily on the ground, bodies and a single luggage case open, its contents spewed about. She didn't register the voice of strangers calling out for her. She could only feel the ending of the shock as her world when black, collapsing into the dirt road.
Elizabeth Lynn had been right. The world outside of her childhood home was too dangerous for her. This is why Elizabeth wanted to protect her, to lock her away.
Arthur Morgan watched as the woman collapsed on the road, unable to reach her in time before her body gave out, leaving him to wonder if it was due to shock or injury, having just returned from the outskirts of Blackwater to save one of their own from bounty hunters. While Javier Escuella, riding with the now rescued Sean MacGuire, and Charles Smith had separated on their return to the Camp in Horseshoe Overlook, the four of them met up as they got closer to camp, only to change course when they'd heard the woman screaming and the sounds of gunfire.
As they'd forced their horses towards the sounds, they spotted the O'Driscoll's boys shoving around some finely dressed woman and raiding her stagecoach. The driver's body just up the road, showing that the man had tried to flee on foot. All it took was one shared look, and the four men acted, pulling out their revolvers and firing, Arthur getting the man who stood over the woman in the head. The O'Driscolls had started to flee, scrambling to their horses before they could bolt. The horses pulling the stagecoach had been spooked, taking off as more fire rang out as more of the O'Driscoll's bodies hit the ground.
So now the four of them stood, just a short distance from camp, with bodies littered around and unconscious woman to deal with. Arthur swore as he knelt over her petite form, scanning her for life-threatening injuries, only finding a bleeding wound on her head. Her attire was torn from the scuffle of being thrown around or because the men had ill intentions, he wasn't sure, but Arthur frowned at the thought.
"She alive?" Sean's thick Irish accent could be heard as he ran up behind Arthur, peering over the man's shoulder.
"Yeah," Arthur muttered gruffly. "What do we do with 'er?"
"Well, we can't leave her here." Sean lectured, moving around his friend. He knelt behind the girl, lifting her into a sitting position.
"Woah, what the hell you doin'?" Arthur barked, watching the Irish man struggle to lift the woman. His yelling attracted the attention of Javier and Charles, who had been busy looting the bodies for anything valuable.
"Bringing her back to camp with us." Seam spoke as if the answer was apparent.
"Hell no, not happenin'!" Arthur stood, making to pull the Irish man away from the woman. "Dutch said no more strays!" Charles and Javier just exchanged looks, not sure of what to do. When Arthur looked back at them for support, he could only frown as Charles stepped forward to help lift the woman. Javier mounted his horse, waiting for his friends to bring her over to be slotted in front of him on the saddle, holding her unconscious body against his with a hand around her waist. Once she was secure, Charles mounted his own horse with Sean behind him. "Damn, you all," Arthur muttered, heading to his horse. "You all will have to explain this to Dutch, not me!" He kicked his horse forward once mounted, leading his companions back to camp, Javier taking up the middle and Charles at the back of the formation.
Arriving at camp didn't take long to stir some issues, as Dutch had moved out of his tent to greet the boys, knowing that they would be returning with Sean, but when his eyes landed on the form of an unconscious woman sitting in Javier grasp, the broad smile on his face faded into a scowl. He looked at Arthur, ready to yell some sort of question, but the man moved past him, telling him to take it up with 'those blasted fools'. Dutch looked back to the three remaining men, observing Javier guide the woman down off his horse and into Charle's arms with the aid of Sean. Javier dismounted, his dark eyes moving to Dutch when he noticed the man glaring at them.
"I thought I made myself clear. No more cargo." Dutch bit, pointing at the woman Charles was carrying in his arms.
Sean stepped forward. "It's good to see you, Dutch, but when returning, we heard screaming and guns firing. Found those pesky O'Driscolls manhandling the girl. She must have collapsed from shock, and we couldn't just leave her there."
Dutch sighed, running a hand over his face as the Irishman explained. He glanced past the redhead to Charles and Javier, seeing that the two men were also conflicted with the predicament. "Charles," He addressed the dark-skinned man. "Take her to the girls. Let them tend to her."
Charles nodded, following the instructions as he carried the lithe woman to the tent where Mary Beth, Karen and Tilly had been staying. He had found Mary Beth inside reading, the brunette jumping up from her cot when she saw the woman in Charles' arms. She'd instructed him to place her down on one of the cots before pushing him outside to attend to the woman, scanning her for injuries. Mary Beth didn't need to know what happened, only that the young girl, barely out of her teens, needed assistance.
Johanna first registered voices, hushed in tones and not far from her. She guessed they belonged to whoever was looking after her. Secondly, she realised she was lying on some sort of cot. An uncomfortable one. She groaned as she shifted, the voices ceasing.
"I think she's waking up! Go get Dutch!" The voice was feminine and was very much country hick. Someone who'd grown up on a farm if Johanna had any assumption. She heard feet dashing away from her form, thumping hard on the solid ground. Not wood. It was dirt and grass. Johanna tried to move again, but it was painful. Even her eyes had trouble opening. "Careful now." That same voice spoke, moving closer as Johanna felt hands trying to hold her still.
Johanna fought against the grip. She needed to sit up. "No…" She mumbled. The hands retreated, the owner giving up on controlling the young woman, instead helping Johanna sit up. When Johanna finally opened her eyes, they landed on a thin brunette woman dressed in simple clothes of pink hues and a green shawl around her shoulders.
"You really shouldn't be sitting up like that…" The woman spoke. "You've been out half the day." Johanna stared at her, taking in the woman. "Oh, I'm so sorry. My name is Mary Beth." The woman introduced herself, a smile matching her sweet voice spreading across her freckled face.
"Johanna…Johanna Lynn." Johanna mumbled, giving the woman her own name. She finally looked away from the woman, taking in her surrounding. She was in a tent with two cots and another sleeping pallet on the floor. Mary Beth's smile became wider at hearing the woman's name. "Where am I?" Johanna looked down at herself, noticing that only her bodice had been removed, leaving her chemise and corset visible. She was glad that her grandmother's ring was still hanging off the chain around her neck.
Mary Beth's smile faulted briefly, giving away her desire not to share that information with the wounded woman. "Somewhere safe."
"Mary Beth? I've brought Dutch." Another female voice called from outside the tent. Mary Beth quickly removed her shawl, wrapping it around Johanna to shield her form as the owner of the voices stepped inside, a blonde woman who reminded Johanna of a saloon working girl, followed by a man dressed in a fine black suit with a matching hat. Johanna pulled the shawl tighter around her when she saw his eyes on her, a sneer on his lips as he looked over her.
"Go get the girl some food, Karen." The man, Dutch, spoke to the blonde, not even taking his eyes off Johanna. Karen merely nodded, leaving the tent as quickly as she had arrived. Dutch stood at the entrance, hands on his hips. "You have a name, girl?" Johanna flinched under the tone. She knew who this man was. Dutch van der Linde. The leader of the gang that rivalled her father. Her father had stated that this man appeared caring and charismatic to those who followed him, but the man was actually greedy and cruel and only got to serve his best interests.
"Her name's Johanna Lynn," Mary Beth spoke, cupping the woman's right hand in her own two hands, the warm gesture comforting under Dutch's gaze. Dutch nodded. The man didn't move when the Karen woman returned with a bowl of stew and bread for Johanna. Mary Beth took it off her friend and offered it to Johanna. The redhead tried to take the bowl with shaky hands, but Mary Beth stopped her, seeing that the woman was too nerve stricken to feed herself. "Dutch, can this wait? She's clearly too shaken up right now."
Dutch grunted but adhered to the brunette's request and left the tent. Karen stayed, sitting next to Mary Beth on the spare cot. "How's ya head feelin'?" The blonde spoke, leaning forward to look at Johanna's forehead.
Johanna raised a shaking hand to the injury, her fingertips tracing along a bandage wrapped around her head. She couldn't feel the wound. "Numb…" She spoke, looking at Karen. The woman's face was grim as she studied the redhead.
Mary Beth sighed. "Let her rest, Karen." With the bowl in one hand and the spoon in the other, the brunette scooped up some of the stew, holding it out to Johanna's lips. "Eat up." Johanna nodded, accepting the offer to be fed the stew. Johanna wasn't sure what the meat was, but she knew it didn't taste the best. The liquid was thin, the meat was rough and lacked spices. But she ate it. She was hungry and needed something in her empty belly, and the food would give her the strength her body needed to heal. Karen had begun to rip off pieces of the bread, feeding them to Johanna as well.
"Thank you." After she finished eating, Johanna finally spoke, looking at the two women. Both of them smiled at her.
"You're more than welcome. We women need to look out for one another." Karen spoke proudly, picking up the used bowl and spoon. "I'm gonna go get these washed up." She left again, leaving Johanna alone once more with Mary Beth.
"The boys who found you said you'd been attacked by the O'Driscolls boys," Mary Beth spoke. Johanna's brows furrowed as the brunette spoke, deciding to act like she didn't know who they were. "They're ruthless murders, outlaws who'd do anything to get some loot." Johanna nodded. She could see how Dutch's gang would see it that way when her father told her they were no different and would do anything to survive just as much as Colm O'Driscoll would. "If you're feeling up to it, would you like to go outside? We're having a party tonight to celebrate one of our own returning to us. He's one of the boys that saved you today." She stood, making for the tent's exit, stopping only to look back to see if Johanna was following.
Johanna stared at her, gripping the shawl around her tighter under the brunette's gaze. "My bodice?" The realisation hit Mary Beth fast, the woman forgetting that the young girl had nothing covering her torso except her undergarments.
"Oh!" She moved away from the exit, going to look through a trunk. "I completely forgot! Your bodice was almost in tatters when the boys brought you in, so you'll have to borrow one of mine. We're about the same size." She pulled out a cotton bodice from the trunk, not made from fine silk as Johanna's had been, but the redhead was happy as long as it covered her chest. Mary Beth helped the young woman dress and stand, guiding her out by the arm into the camp. The camp's members, totalling twenty-two people, moved around them. The sun was beginning to set in the sky, crates of drink were being moved around, and the smell of stew was heavy in the air.
"Ay, she's up!" A loud Irish voice boomed, moving closer towards them as a lanky redheaded man trotted up to the women, his smiling face directed at Johanna. "How you doin' love?"
"That's Sean, one of the men who brought you back," Mary Beth whispered into her ear.
Johanna looked at the man, smiling as she spoke. "Well, thank you." His grin widened at her response. "And thank you for your assistance."
He chuckled, waving off her thanks. "Couldn't leave a damsel in distress now, could I? I hear your name is Johanna Lynn, and with hair like that, your family is from the motherland, I take it?" The motherland he was referring to was Ireland, hench his thick accent. Johanna guessed he must have come to America as a child or early teens, seeing how strong it was when he spoke. Had the man grown here at too young of age, he wouldn't have it at all.
"Mother's from Dublin. Came as a child with her parents right before the war." She answered his question, which only caused him to laugh louder. The man was giddy that she was Irish on one side, begging to know if she was on her father's too. He was hollering when she confirmed that she was, the man dancing with delight to the point where some of the men had to yell at him to make him stop. Johanna wasn't sure what to make of it all, but Mary Beth was laughing beside her, enjoying the theatrics of it all.
"Ah, I should introduce you to the others who were with me!" Sean reached her, practically pulling her from an objecting Mary Beth and dragging her across the camp. Johanna could hear Mary Beth following behind them, yelling at Sean for manhandling the young woman, but the man was just so full of energy that he didn't listen. Or he just plainly didn't want to hear. "Charles! Arthur! Javier! Come meet Johanna!" He had called out to a group of men that had been positioned around a fire, their knives and revolvers in hand as they cleaned the weaponry.
Johanna wanted to flinch away from them as they took her in, more scared of the weapons than the men. Out of the three of them, one was dark-skinned, another a Mexican, and lastly, a gruff-looking white man who scowled at her, just as Dutch had. Johanna didn't have time to move before Sean pushed her down onto a log by the fire. Despite the bodice and shawl that covered her, she felt exposed under their gazes. All she could do was smile weakly. Mary Beth sat on her right, nodding a greeting to the men who returned it with their own nods. Johanna took in the men as Sean introduced them, starting with Charles Smith, the dark-skinned man, the Mexican Javier Escuella, and the gruff man, Arthur Morgan. Arthur appeared to have no interest in her as he looked at the fire while wiping down his gun. Charles offered her a reassuring smile as he fiddled with his own weapon. And Javier just seemed to pass glances at her now and then as he was cleaning a rather large knife.
"Well, they're not the talkative sort." Sean bemused, chuckling at some joke that only he seemed to understand.
Johanna could only sit there as the men and Mary Beth conversed. She felt so out of place, and she had a feeling they could sense her nervousness. Everyone looked back to the camp centre as they heard the raised voices, Johanna taking notice of Dutch arguing with an older gentleman. The sight made Arthur grunt in annoyance. He stood, going over to the pair as he tried to put an end to the bickering.
"Who is that man?" Johanna asked timidly, not turning away from the argument.
Mary Beth leaned over to her, whispering into the woman's ear. "That's Hosea Mathews. Dutch's right hand." Johanna looked away fast when Dutch gestured her way, the man stopping when he noticed her watching, the angry look on his face worsening as he saw the object of his aggression staring at him. Mary Beth saw it, too, as she once again took Johanna's hands in her own, trying to comfort the woman.
"The boss really has it out for you." Sean joked, laughing once more, smacking his thigh. The man seemed to take everything as one big joke.
"Sean," Charles' voice held a warning tone. "Go bother someone else." The Irishman shrugged playfully, his arms raised in a mock surrender before he sauntered off, no doubt looking for another target to annoy. "Johanna, don't take it personally. Dutch just worries about us surviving, and the possibility of having a new mouth to feed isn't helping."
Johanna frowned. It made sense that their leader would be concerned about keeping his own people safe and fed, and now he had some unknown woman to deal with. Her father had told her that the gang had fled Blackwater weeks ago as the Pinkertons had been called in, which probably meant they had left without most of their belongings, which would be deemed correct by how makeshift their camp was. She glanced back behind her towards the three men. Arthur appeared to have ended the argument for now, but Johanna needed Dutch to let her stay, to welcome her with open arms. It was what her father needed her to do. Slipping a hand from Mary Beth's, she placed it over her chest, feeling at the ring that sat trapped between her skin and the borrowed cotton bodice. With one deep breath, Johanna stood, making her way over to the three men, ignoring the protests of those behind her.
"Mr Dutch?" Johanna spoke, her voice breaking from her nerves. She did her best not to flinch as the three men turned to her, Arthur and Dutch not looking impressed with the small woman, and Hosea only giving her a look that made it obvious he pitied her. "I've been informed that you don't want me here as you have a duty to provide for your people. So I want to offer you payment in thanks for your men saving me." Before either man could react, she reached for the chain around her neck, pulling it over her head, and the ring appeared out from under the bodice. Johanna offered it out to Dutch. The man took it, his brown eyes lighting up when they landed on the ring. He had taken it from her with hesitation, eyeing the emerald and diamond gemstones in the band. Arthur whistled low as he, too, admired the ring. "It's been in my family for over a hundred years."
Hosea snatched the ring from Dutch's hand and forced his way between the two men who'd been practically drooling over the trinket. "Then we cannot take it." The older man spoke, taking Johanna's hand and placing the ring into her palm before closing her fingers over it. He looked back to his friends. "It wouldn't be right." His tone was firm, lecturing the men that stood behind him. After a moment of tension, he turned back to Johanna. "Go sit back by the fire. The warmth will do you good in your condition." He guided her with a soft push on her shoulder, nudging her to return to where the men and Mary Beth sat, having watched the whole interaction.
When she sat down, Johanna released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Mary Beth rubbed the woman's back gently. "Not many folks would have the courage to go up to Dutch like that. What did you try to give him, anyway?" She asked, retracing her hand. Her green eyes were on Johanna's clutched hand. The redhead sighed, opening her hand and showing the woman the ring. "My goodness!" Mary Beth reached for it but quickly retracted her hand. Both Charles and Javier were studying the ring, the fire dancing off the gemstones. "I could buy a house with that thing."
Johanna chuckled at the woman's reaction. "Family heirloom," But her smile dropped when she quickly added. "All I got left now."
"Oh…sweetie…" Mary Beth sighed, going back to rubbing the woman's back, trying to provide comfort. "You got no family?"
Johanna shook her head, remembering the lie her father told her to tell. "Parents died in the Cholera outbreak in Armadillo a few weeks back, got an uncle living out near Valentine, but haven't heard from him in years. Don't know if he's even alive."
"That's why you were in that stagecoach?" Mary Beth asked. Johanna nodded. "Well, we'll just have to help you find him then! Won't we, boys?" She looked to the men, watching as their eyes widened from having been volunteered by the woman for the task, but they didn't object, their gentlemanly nature not letting them. Johanna smiled weakly at the men and thanked them. She didn't know if it was because she was genuinely thankful for the thought of them helping her or because she knew that there was no uncle. The man her father had organised to fill that role was dead, died months back, and now had the O'Driscolls boys living out of his home as a base of operations. The moment she mentioned the name Patrick Murphy, people in Valentine would direct them to his house, located north of Valentine past the Dakota River, where they would only find the O'Driscolls boys waiting for them for a shoot out. Colm O'Driscolls didn't care if any of his men died, as he believed it would serve the greater purpose of seeing to the end of Dutch van der Linde and his gang.
Johanna put the chain back around her neck and tucked the ring back under her bodice. Her mother had always told her to keep it hidden and even from those she trusted, as with these desperate times, someone wouldn't hesitate to take it from her and Johanna's life if they had to get it. Johanan didn't know these people, and while Mary Beth and Karen came off as lovely, the young woman still couldn't trust them. Nor anyone else. In that brief moment of showing Dutch the ring, Johanna could see the greed in his eyes and his desire for the wealth that selling the ring would bring him. Hosea had seen it too. That's why the man had reacted so. As of late, Dutch's actions weren't sitting right with Hosea, despite their long history together. And taking a family heirloom from a woman who had been left for dead after being attacked by outlaws wasn't something that could sit right with Hosea, even though he, too, was an outlaw. He was still a good man at heart.
The redhead was pulled from her thoughts when loud sounds of cheerings reached her ears. She watched as more of the camp's residents approached the fire with crates of food and drink. Already stumbling in his steps with a drink in hand, Sean stood upon a box, yelling out to the camp a speech that now that he was back, everything would run smoother. Johanna found it humorous that while some encouraged the Irish fool, others openly mocked the man, which he seemed all too happy to ignore.
It didn't take long for the gang to become merry with drink, bursting into drunken songs. Johanna just stayed on the log by the fire, watching them all and rejecting any offers of drinks that were put her way. She hoped that the group would assume it was due to the woman's need for caution and not the fact that Johanna wanted to remain sober. Mary Beth had wandered off ages ago, going to celebrate with some of the other women, so Johanna found herself alone. With her eyes closed, she wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulders, trying to create a form of comfort for herself to ease her nerves. The sounds of a guitar playing at the camp made her open her eyes. Looking at Javier, sitting on the ground on the opposite side of the fire, his fingers strumming the instrument's strings. Johanna found the music soothing, the moment a peaceful reprieve amongst the sounds of drunken merriment that had begun to overpower her sense.
"You're very good," Johanna spoke before she could realise the words left her mouth. Javier glanced at the woman as he continued to play, almost pausing for a second as he hadn't been expecting the woman to speak. Johanna smiled at him when she noticed the faint smirk on his lips from her compliment. She continued to listen to him play well into the night, listening to different songs. Occasionally, he would even sing in Spanish, a language she didn't understand, but his soothing voice made the songs more alluring to hear. Johanna could feel her eyes growing heavy as she continued to listen, letting his singing and music lull her to sleep.