If everything went well, Sam should be back by tomorrow. At least, that was what Arthur hoped.
Dutch had left after only two days of Sam leaving on his "mission" to go hunt down one of Colm's top men. He didn't even know he had any. The O'Driscolls all looked the same to him: Drunk, angry and crazy.
Hosea had put up a huge fuss since Arthur came back with that head injury, but he was going stir crazy being cooped up in camp and he had only just been back from seeing Lily a few hours ago. There was still time in the day. Other than writing in his journal and doing the occasional chores around the camp, he wished he could go out and maybe get away from Uncle being annoying or the reverend's drunken singing.
Abigail somehow knew Arthur was feeling "camp" fever so, hoping to get Miss Grimshaw off her back for a while. She had approached him and, while Arthur was reluctant at first, agreed to take little Jack out on a small adventure. Anything to get out of camp for a little while. He certainly wasn't John who got put out of work for almost a month or more because of a scratch from a wolf.
They didn't go far from camp, just down hill and towards the river. Arthur thought it was a good opportunity to teach a kid Jack's age how to fish. He already had a fishing rod that Hosea made for such a little guy. It wasn't much. Arthur liked to call himself a wanderer who always came back home to camp eventually, but it was nice to have some quiet away from camp. Jack was a good kid. He expected Jack to space out from fishing eventually and find something else to do. The kid had a lot of energy.
He had a lot of energy too... He would've been the same age as Jack today… maybe a bit older... if not for…
"Fishing sure is boring, Uncle Arthur," Jack said, honestly. He continued picking up the red flowers he saw, his fishing rod laying in the dirt.
Arthur just smiled and let out a sigh. He was still a kid and probably didn't get it yet.
"Yeah, I know," he said, "boring as hell." He jolted, feeling a fish on the line and with a grin, he gave his fishing rod a yank to hook the fish. "But then… something happens, and you can get food for days."
"Really?"
"If you're lucky." The fish wasn't too big, since it wasn't too hard to reel in, but Arthur still did his best to tire it out first. Once he had it out of the water, he held it in his hand. It was a Chain Pickerel. "Look! It's almost as small as you!"
Jack looked up from his work, laughing a little. It warmed the outlaw's heart. Arthur knelt down so he could look at it a bit better, before he tossed it back into the water.
"Why did you let it go, Uncle Arthur?"
"The smaller ones should go back," Arthur explained, before standing up again. "Give 'em a chance to grow up a bit. Until then, you just… sit, and wait, and…" He paused, his eyes focusing on the river, the trees and the clear skies above him. The memories that were trying to poke their way into his headspace flowed away like the water that passed him, "try not to worry. It's good for you." And with that he recasted his fishing line.
Jack looked up, his young eyes staring. "It's good for you?"
"I guess…"
"Hey, look at this," Jack said, holding up the chain of flowers he looped together. Arthur walked over, reeling in the line.
"At what?"
"This necklace I made."
"Necklace?" Arthur said, crouching down to the child's level.
"For momma."
"What a fine young man… and in such complex circumstances."
Arthur stood. He saw two men climbing down from their horses. He knew the red they wore along with their black suits and gloves. Pinkertons. The one who took the lead had a badge on his coat and was leaner than the mustached man who was following him. Didn't have much hair on his head, but his dark eyebrows were thick. He wore a bowler hat like many other Pinkterons. His cheeks were taunt, with the bones against his skin. The other man behind him was holding a rifle. It was loaded and ready to fire.
"Arthur Morgan?"
Jack wasn't sure what was going on, but he instinctively stood behind his uncle.
"Who are you?" said Arthur.
"Yes, Arthur Morgan," the Pinkerton said, stopping in front of the pair. "Van der Linde's most trusted associate." He turned to his partner. "You've read the files, typical case… orphaned street kid seduced by that maniac's silver tongue… and matures into a degenerate murderer." He gestured, placing a gloved hand on his chest. "Agent Milton." Then he gestured to the man next to him. "Agent Ross. Pinkerton Detective Agency… seconded to the United States Government. Nice to finally meet." He smiled, as if they were just two simple men meeting Arthur on a random trip.
"Do you?" said Arthur.
"You're a wanted man, Mr. Morgan," Milton stated. "There's five thousand dollars for your head alone."
That was new. His face was probably all over West Elizabeth, especially after what happened in Strawberry, but he never cared about the price on his head. What he had now, had to be a new record, though.
"Five thousand dollars? For me?" He quickly turned his head, just to make sure Jack was okay, which he was. "Can I turn myself in?" he joked.
"We want Van der Linde," said Milton.
"Old Dutch? I haven't seen him for months."
"That so? Because I heard… a guy fitting his description robbed a train belonging to Leviticus Cornwall up near Granite Pass."
Arthur was shocked. They knew about the train?
"Oh, ain't that a little… old fashioned nowadays?" he asked, a small laugh in his voice.
"Apparently not," Milton said, hands on his belt. "Listen, this is my offer, Mr. Morgan… bring in Van der Linde… and you have my word, you won't swing."
"Oh, I ain't gonna swing anyways Agent, um…"
"Milton."
"You see, I haven't done anything wrong… aside from not playing the games to your rules."
"Spare me the philosophy lesson… I've already heard it… from Mac Callander."
Arthur hadn't heard that name in a long time. He never thought he would hear it again. "Mac Callander?"
"He was pretty shot up by the time I got to him…" the Pinkerton said, solemnly, "so really it was more of a mercy killing." Arthur glared. He wasn't shocked to hear that Mac didn't make it. He kind of assumed such… but knowing that it was a Pinkerton that did him in… "Slow… but merciful." Despite his expression, Arthur knew Milton was relishing in it.
Arthur threw his fishing pole to the dirt in frustration. Jack let out a tiny yelp and hid behind Arthur while Agent Ross pointed his rifle at him. This was the type of thing society was doing: Claiming to be better when they kill people more horridly? Pointing guns while a damn child was present!?
"You enjoy being a rich man's toy do you?" Arthur hissed.
"I enjoy society… flaws and all," Agent Milton said, sternly. "You people venerate savagery, the same that tore Valentine apart, and you will die… savagely. All of you."
"Oh, we're all gonna die, Agent."
"Some of us sooner than others." And with that, he turned away towards his horse. "Good day Mr. Morgan."
"Good-bye."
Agent Ross lowered his rifle as he slowly backed away.
"Enjoy your fishing, kid…" he sneered, "while you still can."
Instinctively, Arthur knew his gun was nearby, but damn it all! He could not bring himself to shoot and kill in front of Jack. The agents mounted their horses and left.
"Who were they?" Jack asked, shyly.
"No one to worry about…" said Arthur, "no one at all. Come on, let's pick up your things and get home."
Jack picked up his fishing rod, and even picked up Arthur's. He should've known they would catch up eventually, especially since they weren't in their home turf out in the west. Sometimes Arthur wondered if they could've just run westward from Blackwater instead of up north and into the mountains, but it was too late to consider that now. They were stuck in unknown territory heading east, where the law was trying it's damndest to grip the people under their will. The same that left kids as orphans, money protected over people, and let people lose their loved ones. Like Sam and Lily.
It was hard to lie to Jack. He hated having to do it, but he brought up Mac. Sometimes he wished he still had that naivety, but that was why Jack had him and the camp to protect him. He got him to talk more about that necklace and much he liked their little fishing trip.
They weren't far from camp. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Pinkertons could track them to where they were, but the fact that they were close to Horseshoe Overlook was troubling. He hadn't seen any trace of Pinkertons in Valentine before being confronted by a pair of them, which made him wonder: How did they know that Valentine was attacked?
That wasn't for someone as young as Jack to worry about, however.
They were back at camp by sunset. Jack was always excited to ride on a horse with his Uncle Arthur, even more so with how fast he was riding.
Arthur sort of wished he could still share that blissful ignorance.
"There you are!" Abigail exclaimed, as Arthur and Jack approached the hitching post. "How you boys getting on?"
Arthur lowered Jack to the ground first before dismounting himself.
"Great," said Jack, "we caught a fish…" He held out the necklace for Abigail, "and I made you this necklace."
"Ain't that pretty?" Abigail said, taking it gently in her hand. "Ain't I the luckiest… Did you thank Uncle Arthur?"
"No need," Arthur said, handing back Jack's fishing rod, "we had a good time." But his dejected voice was saying otherwise.
"What's wrong?" Abigail said, as Jack left to put away his things.
"Nothing…" Arthur stammered, "just met some folk. Best if I just wait for Dutch to come back."
"Okay." She was curious, but was sure whatever it was Arthur and Dutch could handle it.
Dutch wasn't like Colm… or pretty much any other gang leader Arthur had met. He wasn't one to stand behind his men while they did his dirty work. He was there right beside them when he wasn't holed away in his tent, making his plans.
But lately, Arthur found it weird how he would go with Sam sometimes on his little adventures for vengeance. As long as Sam was bringing in money, which he seemed to earn by picking off dollars and valuables off his dead enemies, nobody seemed to care about his mission.
Arthur did, though. Vengeance would only bring them trouble, and he'd be damned if Sam was pulling Dutch into it. Now he was gone, while the Pinkertons were on their tails and almost knocking the door of Horseshoe Overlook.
"Someone's coming!" Lenny announced, not long after the sun went down. People had finished dinner and everyone was settling down. Jack had finished telling his mother all about the fishing trip.
The young man held up his repeater, but soon he lowered it upon seeing who was coming. "Hey, everyone!" said Lenny. "Dutch is back!"
Arthur closed his journal and stepped out from his tent, seeing Dutch riding in with Sam hanging onto him from behind. A thick woolen blanket was wrapped around him, while he rested his head on the gang leader's shoulder. Charles was riding in with Sadie sitting behind him. She was sitting sideways, with her legs dangling on one side of Taima, with Sadie and Sam's horse following them.
"Yes, we are back!" Dutch proclaimed, boldly. He let out a small laugh, as other camp members looked up, waving and happy. Well, they weren't so happy as soon as Micah followed into camp along with them. Most of them were just happy that their leader was back to guide them, and of course Jack would get upset if his Uncle Dutch was gone too long.
Dutch guided Sam to bed, fussing over how he should rest some more and demanded he stay put while he fetched him something to eat from Pearson's wagon. Luckily, there was nice warm stew leftover from dinner. Charles carefully helped Sadie to her bedroll, much to her reluctance.
Sam had finished explaining what happened to Hosea, who had shooed away some lookielous to give Sam some space.
"That was pretty brave," Hosea confirmed. He checked his ring and pinky fingers on his left hand. They were bandaged up together to help alleviate the soreness by limiting movement. "Brave and stupid. I don't know what's up with Dutch telling you to go out there and do stuff like this, but we don't got the time to be chasing down Colm."
Sam shook his head. "He didn't make me. I chose to do this."
"By putting us in danger some more?"
"By drawing the danger away from you. The O'Driscolls don't know I'm with your gang. As far as they know, I'm just some idiot who's hunting them down."
Hosea sighed. "That's what I'm worried about."
"What?"
"You're still young, Hawkeson. You oughta be dedicating yourself to something else other than some wild goose chase for revenge."
Sam huffed through his nose. "You sound like Arthur."
Hosea smiled briefly, a bit proud of that statement. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He finished his stew and set the bowl aside before pulling the woolen blanket a little closer around himself. He wasn't necessarily cold as much anymore, other than the night bringing a chill. He ran his thumb over his sore fingers, still aching from being dislocated.
"I can't let others decide the fate of those I care about anymore…" said Sam. "I have to do what I must to protect them… and get justice for the ones I couldn't. I wasn't able to save my aunt. I never found out who killed my mother, but my uncle… I know his killer is out there."
Dutch was listening as he put his winter coat away and was changing into his union suit for the night. Molly was asleep with the girls and didn't want to wake her, but he knew she'd be happy to have him back. He was about to go and talk with Sam, but Arthur was storming up to him.
"We've got a problem," he said, keeping his voice low to prevent waking anyone who could be asleep.
"What?"
Arthur stormed his way inside the tent. "I met some guys out near the river today… a feller named, erm… Milton and, erm… Ross."
"And?"
"And… they are employees of the Pinkerton Detective Agency…" Arthur said, hurriedly. It was rare to actually hear him a bit panicked, "and they know about the train… and they know we're here."
"Were you followed back here?"
"No…" Arthur answered honestly, raising his hands like a robber surrendering, "they know we're near here…"
Dutch stepped out of his tent into the night. He stopped just outside, thinking to himself.
"...and they want you, Dutch," Arthur added. The older man turned back and faced his son. "They offered me my freedom in exchange, they did."
"Why didn't you take it?" Dutch then said.
"Huh, very funny…" At least in the situation, Dutch still had his sense of humor, which was kind of relieving to Arthur. "Well what do we do now?"
Dutch wandered around the outside of his tent. Arthur knew he was thinking. If he was in his shoes, he would've had the camp pack up their things immediately.
"I say we do nothing…" Dutch then said, "just yet."
Of course, he should've known Dutch would always try to think crazy.
"They're just trying to scare us… into doing something stupid. We have turned a corner… we survived them mountains." Dutch felt instantly calmer seeing his most loyal boy nodding in agreement. "We just need to stay calm."
Hosea came out from Sam's tent.
"Hosea!" said Dutch. "How is he?"
"He'll live," said Hosea. "A few bruises and some dislocated fingers never hurt nobody. He's young. Still got a lot of energy, that one."
"Yeah, as long as he ain't chasing himself into an early grave," Arthur grumbled. "You sure that kid knows what he's doing?"
"I'm not even sure."
"Hey, he don't look much, but he can handle himself," said Dutch. "You were hardly anything when I first picked you up, Arthur. You know that."
"I'm just saying… It's like when we was up in those mountains," said Arthur. "We don't have the luxury of vengeance, especially now."
"Well, with any luck we shouldn't have to worry much longer. We found out Colm and his cronies fled south."
Arthur shrugged. "I don't think that'll stop him."
"Oh, it will," said Dutch. "I'll make sure of it. Colm ain't getting away with what he did, but we need to focus on what's important, and Sam ain't slipping away so easily, otherwise."
"Well, if you're so sure."
"Faith. Arthur. Now relax and get yourself to bed."
Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. "Whatever you say, Dutch."
The outlaw was still tense after seeing those Pinkertons today. Of course they had folks guarding the camp at night, but he still felt like at any moment one of them would shout that they were coming to attack and he wanted to be alert when it happened, rather than getting taken by surprise because he decided to sleep.
Eventually, he did fall asleep, forgetting to change into his union suit, but he was so tired from worrying, he couldn't care less. So much for taking it easy while he was supposedly "healing."
In the middle of the night, Sam awoke randomly to horses. He didn't remember anyone stepping out from camp tonight, but the journey back from the mountains took forever, so he could've missed somebody for all he knew.
He casted his woolen blanket aside and stood in nothing but his union suit, walking out barefoot. Some of the other camp members, while still kind of groggy, were curious.
Bill was out on patrol that night with Karen, but they seemed confused. It wasn't long before Sam could see why.
"Where the hell have you been?" Sam could hear Karen say. "Hey, wait!"
A lantern was near one of the hitching posts, among some of the others that kept the tents lit up at night and the three campfires that were each for a different purpose. A horse came into view. A blue grayish Nakota, and the sound of quiet, gentle sobs. The young man saw golden hair, hazel eyes…
Sam's jaw dropped slowly.
"Lily?"
Lily couldn't even bring Adonis to the hitching post. Once she saw Sam's shocked face, she climbed off her new friend, and would've slumped to the ground had Charles not shown up and caught her. Finally safe, and in a friend's hands, she just proceeded to sob out loud.
Her cries released Sam from his stillness, bringing him back to when he was young. Just like now, he would always race to her side when she sobbed, hoping to ease her pain, no matter what it may be.
"Lily, are you alright?" Sam rushed to her side and crashed onto his knees. His question, however, seemed to make her cry even more. Miss Grimshaw was already storming up to her in an angry fit.
"I don't think she's hurt," said Charles.
Finally, Lily got in a breath. "It's over…" she said.
"What?" said Sam.
"Archie… He… He wanted me gone…"
Sam's lips parted. No way. Archie loved her.
"I was… I was gonna marry him, Sam… I was… I was…"
Sam reached out, his fingers marred by the acts of his crimes, and placed a hand on her back. She had no idea of the things he had done, but was still shocked when she curled deeper into his hold.
"Easy, Lily. Breathe."
Miss Grimshaw suddenly backed away. This wasn't a girl who had slacked off only to come back causing a ruckus. This was a girl who just had her heart broken.
Some of the other girls had woken up upon hearing the commotion. Tilly and Mary-Beth showed up to help Charles and Sam walk Lily to their tent, while she kept mumbling about Archie. She was sat down on Sam's cot, still warm from her cousin laying on it, and the young man gave her the woolen blanket that had been used on him to her, wrapping it around her trembling frame while Miss Grimshaw came in, telling Mary-Beth to make herself useful and to get the poor girl some tea. Tilly slipped out to get Lily a fresh night-gown to put on, now that the one she had was dirty from running around in the fields.
Once she was all settled, Sam asked if he could have some time alone with his cousin. A request that he was granted without any opposition.
Dutch was roused from his slumber from Lily's sobbing. He was briefed by Susan about Lily's return, knowing the reason for it wasn't any good.
"All our friends… the town… Archie… they've all casted us out…" Lily sobbed. "Why? After everything… I… Why can't they understand?"
Sam didn't know what to say.
"Everything…" Lily whimpered. "Everything he and I had had together… it was all for nothing…" She looked up at her cousin, fresh pearls of sadness falling from her eyes. "So we really did mean nothing to them! You were right… All of it. Aunt Anna, Mommy… my father most of all. We all didn't mean a thing to anyone."
Lily held her teeth tight. Hugging her arms to herself tightly.
"They left us… both to die…" she stated, her voice just above a whisper.
Another sob bubbled up from within and she fell forward, her face hidden in Sam's chest. Almost too quickly, Sam wrapped his arms around her, not caring about any tears or snot that were dampening his clothes.
Sam swallowed hard, grimacing. He warned her, but now wasn't the time to be in hindsight. Even if he was right, he didn't even want the satisfaction of being as such. He felt like he was the one who needed to apologize for not figuring out a way to make her realize this without getting her feelings hurt. He should've been protecting her from not just bullets. His cousin needed him. She was hurt, and almost inconsolable. All because of Archie.
"You always have and will mean something to me," said Sam.
"He left me…" Lily wept.
"I know…" the young man said, gently, rubbing her back.
"Because… I… I didn't want to leave you."
Sam let out a soft gasp. The words left a feeling in his chest: A strange warmth that spread through his body. He never thought he would hear those words from anyone.
"But… he would've made you happy," said Sam.
Lily sniffled, nuzzling his chest as if she were a child again. Her fingers curled on his arms, pulling on the sleeves of his union suit. She was gripping him like a security blanket. "I c-couldn't leave you. I can't. Never."
Sam teared up. All this time he had feared she would leave him, but in fact, it was quite the opposite. His cousin, his most trusted friend, the sister he never had, always was holding him in her heart.
Meanwhile, outside, what Dutch heard was probably the most beautiful thing that had entered his ears. The young lady chose loyalty over love, because she loved Sam more than anyone else. They weren't related, but their bond was stronger than blood, bringing a smile to the gang leader's face when he thought about Arthur. That boy could be a great leader someday.
Maybe that boy really was his.
Lily was sewing with the girls the next morning, and Sam, despite her time away, decided he would handle things in the medical tent today. Not many supplies were taken while he was gone. He also decided, mostly because of Hosea, to check on Arthur's head wound as the bandages were finally removed.
The gauze was set aside into a little bin and Sam was careful and quick, cleaning up any dirt or grime that may have accumulated over time, even though he told him to change the bandages at least once every day.
"You're all set," said Sam.
Arthur nodded in thanks. He stood up, as Sam was putting away all his supplies. Just before Arthur was outside, Sam spoke up.
"Tell me the truth," Sam then said.
The outlaw stopped and turned back to the young man. "Huh?"
"Did you really see Pinkertons near Horseshoe last night?"
"Yes," said Arthur. "Why?"
"Then what is Dutch doing?"
"I don't know yet, but with any luck we'll move far away from this."
Sam shrugged and closed his box of supplies. "I can't go with you, then."
Arthur scoffed. "I don't remember it being your choice, 'cause it ain't."
"Colm and his cronies fled south. Going out west where you want to go won't get me anywhere."
"How many times do I have to tell you that going after them ain't gonna solve nothing?"
"And how many times do I have to tell you that I don't give a rat's ass about it?!"
"Well, you should, boy!" Arthur hissed. He kept his voice low, but he knew his words and tone were still ringing true, regardless. This man, who had scared the living daylights out of him when they first met, had become Sam's friend, but to him, was still just the same as when they met: scary. "Because the last thing we need now is trouble from you because you're going around killing folk."
"Only folk who deserve it," Sam responded.
"It don't matter!"
"Yes, it does!"
"No, it don't!"
Sam stepped back, he held his hands up briefly and shrugged. "I don't get you!"
"How you mean?"
Sam cleared his throat. "'You speak as if killing were something I cared about'," Sam mocked, attempting to match his voice to Arthur's. "Don't you remember saying that to me? What changed?"
"Nothing's changed, but you sure as hell ain't going south without Dutch's permission, and he ain't gonna give you it."
"Why?" Sam said, sternly. "You gonna stop me?"
Arthur knew that Sam wouldn't stand a chance against him, and Sam knew that he knew he wouldn't stand a chance against him, but at least he had some spine, now. They stared at each other, both of what they wanted at an impasse. The last thing either of them wanted was to start a fight in camp.
"Mr. Morgan."
Herr Strauss' voice cut through the tension and he approached the outlaw.
"Strauss," Arthur responded. He didn't take his gaze off Sam.
"That man, the debtor, Thomas Downes…"
"He's dead," Sam said, coldly.
"Well, he had a wife and child," Strauss added. "She will assume the debt, of course." Sam rolled his eyes, but the Austrian man kept his eyes on Arthur. Sam's eyes drifted to Lily, who was sewing with the girls. She could barely get out of bed this morning, and didn't see her eat. He wasn't worried about that, because Miss Grimshaw snatched Lily's knitting needles and put a bowl of stew in her hands.
"You're eating all of it," she said.
"When you can, head up there and collect," Strauss said to Arthur, as Sam's ears registered their conversation. "We lent them a lot of money."
"No!" Sam then said, sternly. The two turned to the young man who hadn't taken his eyes off his cousin. Strauss was about to speak up about Sam's opposition, but he wasn't finished. "I'll go." And without another word he turned and went towards his horse.
Arthur just sighed. It'd save him the trouble. "I'll check on him in a bit," he told Strauss. "Make sure he don't do nothing stupid."
Strauss nodded. "Thank-you," he said, before returning to his tent.
The outlaw shook his head as Sam rode off on Aurora. Once again, he was out, following nothing but his feelings and no sense.
"Arthur, I need you for something!"
Arthur knew that voice, but was too focused on wondering why he cared about what Sam was doing.
"You there?"
"What, Marston?" the outlaws finally responded.
"I need you and a sniper rifle to follow me."
"For what exactly?" said Arthur.
"You remember when I said I was gonna get something started in Valentine? Or did you hit your head that hard?"
"Ain't you got anyone else you can bother?" Arthur asked, irritably.
"Do you wanna make money for the camp or not?" said John.
Arthur shrugged. "Let's just get this over with…" he grumbled, walking past him towards the horses. "I have something actually important to get to."
"Yeah, yeah…"
Sam never thought he would ride out to the Downes' Ranch again. He had gone down that road many times growing up.
"Go faster, Uncle Cliff!" he remembered telling him as a child and he giggled and laughed with joy when Cliff made the horse gallop along the trail.
Now he was traversing it alone, aware that this was probably the path Lily took to get back as the tears flowed from her eyes.
The ranch was empty. There weren't any workers. The fields were free of crops, and all the animals were gone. Mrs. Downes wasn't around anywhere, but he saw Archie sitting on the porch. He looked up as he saw the familiar dark steed approach. He stood, closing the book he was reading and put it back on the table that was outside.
Sam didn't say a word. He dismounted his horse and just started walking towards him.
"Sam?" Archie finally said, as Sam walked up the steps, casually. Almost too casually. "What are you-"
He was interrupted when Sam punched him under his chin. Archie cried out, doubling back. "What the hell?!"
"You bastard!" Sam growled.
"My father ain't even cold in the ground and you're here to punch me?"
"I'm here for the money," the rookie outlaw said, coldly.
"Money?" Archie's voice quivered. "Sam-"
"You insult my cousin, asking for a pity party after you discarded her like trash!"
"Trash? What you did to her was just that!"
"I didn't do anything to her!" Sam snapped.
"You made her a killer…" Archie hissed, pointing at him accusatively. "Just like you. I know it's you who's been killing O'Driscolls like a maniac."
Sam shook his head. "I don't have a choice."
"Yes, you do!"
"No, I seriously don't."
"Lily was good and did good. You ruined her!"
"You broke her heart!" Sam growled. "If you don't want her at her worst, then you certainly don't deserve her at her best. I could've come to this place at any time and dragged her back with me, kicking and screaming, but I didn't… I thought I knew you could take her away and give her a better life than the one I was walking into."
Archie continued rubbing his sore chin. "You've changed, Sam… You weren't one to just walk up and start stuff."
"You started it when you casted us out…" said Sam.
"Just get out of here," said Archie. "Momma and I are leaving, anyway. Corrupt somebody else." Archie turned away, going to walk back inside. "I was wrong about you. Momma was right. You're just like your mother."
When Sam took his next breath it was shaky. He stormed forward and yelled, throwing himself at his former friend. They tumbled to the ground of the living room as they struggled and threw punches and kicks at each other.
"What the hell do you know about my mother?!" Sam yelled as pinned Archie down. "I barely even got to know her!"
"Momma knew enough! She's an outlaw!" He managed to kick him off, but Sam stood up immediately ready to jump at him, but Archie stood up as well, caught his wrists and they struggled against each other. "And now look at you! Have you ever thought of eternity? You should."
"Would you stop sounding like your goddamn mother?!" Sam shouted. He kicked Archie back.
"Then stop acting like yours!" Archie yelled. He countered him immediately and Sam was met with an elbow to the face. He fell back and Archie gasped, watching out in horror when Sam smashed through the window.
Arthur and John were riding out into the open fields of the Heartlands. Tried as Arthur might, John continued to be coy until they were truly away from people.
"Why are you being so cagey about all this?" Arthur finally snapped. "Always playing some goddamn game."
John snapped his head around towards Arthur briefly before continuing to look forward while on his horse. "Me? I ain't the one taking Jack on fishing trips."
"No, you ain't. If you say the boy ain't yours, what's the difference? You'll probably only run off again."
John rolled his eyes. Again with this shit…
"Why are you so interested in my life?" John questioned, harshly. "Ain't you got one of your own?"
Arthur had plenty of time to think about that while ignoring the past few months. There were plenty of reasons. He probably wrote out most of it in his journal. It wasn't that he was interested in it. He was curious. Arthur thought he knew John, but after he ran off, he doubted he ever knew him at all.
"Just do one thing or another," Arthur just said, "not be two people at once, that's all I'm saying."
"It ain't that simple," said John. "You know that as well as anyone. Same as with you and that girl, what was her name… Mary?"
"That was different."
"No, it ain't," John argued, "just the same."
"Anyway, for the love of God, will you tell me what you got me doing here before I turn around and hit the breeze?" Arthur asked irritably.
"There's a herd of sheep coming down to auction from Emerald Ranch. Folk in town were saying that the owner's trying to stamp out every farm from here to Annesburg."
"Yes? And?"
"So I'm thinking, that the herd'll make it to auction alright, but, a couple of new ranch hands'll be collecting on the sale." He smiled, like he had thought of another good plan like the train robbery that gave Arthur that bump on his head. "Doubt the town will care to notice too much."
They made it up to the top of a hill, and Arthur was starting to piece together John's little plan: Scare away the real ranchers with a few warning shots and collect the livestock. Still, he had one problem as he took aim.
"You ever even worked on a ranch, Marston?"
"No. You?"
"A day or two. Why didn't you ask Sam?"
"I was gonna, but he ran off after talking to Strauss. Now, hurry up and scare away the ranchers."
Arthur rolled his eyes. He made sure his aim wouldn't actually hit anyone and he opened fire.
Sam just laid there where he was on the porch for about a minute. Aurora was nearby when Sam tumbled outside and whined in terror. His brain needed a minute to process that he was just tossed through a window like that. And by his former friend, no less. Archie always hated it when he stole, but this was… something else.
"Just apologize and leave. Then maybe we can end things on at least okay terms." Archie's footsteps made themselves known. Sam's hands formed fists. He groaned, pieces of glass falling around him as he tried to stand. He hissed, putting a hand to his side. He pulled out a shard that had cut his side. It was kind of big, but the pain was nothing. He tossed the shard aside, but kept a hand there.
"Ain't no way I'm apologizing…" Sam said, through gritted teeth. "Not to some jerk who doesn't understand how Lily feels!"
"And you saying you do?" said Archie. "She ran away from you, and went to me."
"She wanted to help you…" Sam hissed. "And when she opened up her heart you casted her aside. Give me Strauss' goddamn money and I'll go." Sam's eyes squeezed shut as he tightened his grip on his side.
"I'm not going to. I would've gladly taken my Lily with me," Archie continued, "but you've turned her into a murderer. If you really are like your mother, why did you have to drag my flower down with you?"
The young man pulled down a gulp. So even if Lily wanted to stay with him, he would've forced her out anyway?
And yet Archie still had the audacity to claim her as his own?!
My…? Sam thought. MY?!
Archie heard a sniffle. Sam hadn't moved from his spot and was shading his face. One hand was on the walls of his house and the other clutching his wounded side. He knew his words were harsh, but he had to hear them. Slowly, Archie walked up, his eyebrows softened and he frowned. Despite everything there was a soft spot in him who still wished for his companionship. It just… wasn't meant to be. They both knew this.
With hesitance, Sam reached out and took his hand. His grip was soft and limp. Archie gulped and tightened his grip for the both of them... only for Sam to yank him towards him. Archie gasped.
"She isn't… YOURS!"
And with that, Sam threw his bloodied fist into his face. Archie fell over the railing of the porch and into the dirt with a yelp. Aurora was tugging on her reins that were tied onto the hitching post, clearly spooked. Archie let his hand drift to the side of his face where he had punched him. He couldn't sit there and process it, as a hand grabbed his shirt, pulled him forward and he was faced with his former friend, holding his fist in the air.
"Lily is Lily!" Sam shouted.
Archie's eyes were wide open with shock and his mouth was hung open agape. Sam would quiver at the mere thought of a fight, but now… here he was standing over his former friend, bloodied hand grabbing his shirt and fist ready to go.
"Stop! Stop! Please!" a voice pleaded.
Edith had returned in a small wagon and rushed out towards the scene. "Sam, please! Let him go! Let him go!"
All Sam could do was gasp. His brain made him remember the day when he met Arthur: Fighting Tommy in the mud, and nearly beating him to death.
And now here he was…
"We ain't exactly saints, Sam!"
"Guess not… But I'm still leagues better than you."
He frowned, his face softened and his eyes shining with tears. Had he really become no better than them?
Sam let go of Archie, but not before throwing him a little so he hit the ground with a harsh thud.
"I want the money you owe Strauss!" Sam then yelled, snapping his head around, cold eyes locking onto Mrs. Downes. "Now!"
Edith ran into the house immediately. The young man turned his head back to his former friend, still rubbing his sore face, while staying on the ground. She was back before too long, a stack of bills in her hand.
"You make me sick!" she hissed. "The man you've become..."
Sam just snatched the money from her. He had enough of her voice, or even her face. He counted it really quickly. Just as he took one step to leave, he stopped.
"Get out of here…" he hissed. "And I mean so far away, you'll never see me again."
Sam's heart was beating rapidly. He heard Edith rush to her beaten son as Sam held his hand over his wounded side, and got to Aurora, taking a moment to calm her down from the fight. Then he rode away as quickly as he could…
Scaring off the ranchers went easily. Arthur and John rode on their horses and rounded up the sheep, checking for any stragglers. It was Arthur, however, who just ended up doing the herding while John stayed ahead to check for any trouble.
Once again, Arthur was the one doing all the work for John's plan.
At least they were all safe in the auction yard, once they were in Valentine. But, it looked like they were wrong about the town being full of morons. Of course they wouldn't be, especially after an attack as vicious as the O'Driscolls shooting up everything. They wanted some kickback to keep their mouths shut.
"Excuse me?" said Arthur.
"Sure, I'll excuse you… for twenty-five percent."
"Do you want me to put another hole in your head?" Arthur growled.
"Folks swing for rustling livestock," the dealer said, sternly. "Twenty-five percent."
"Fifteen," John interjected.
"Twenty."
"Eighteen."
"Done." The dealer reached out and shook John's hand. Reluctantly, Arthur did the same. They were told to return after the auction to collect the money, and they were off.
They trotted into town. Arthur was grumpy after today. Nobody could see sense today. He wouldn't say he was exactly very smart, but he knew a thing or two. And now he was stuck next to the idiot who wanted to steal sheep without knowing how to herd.
"Thanks… for all the help with this…" Arthur grumbled. "Can't herd, can't swim."
John rolled his eyes, annoyed with all of Arthur's pouting.
"Give it a rest, will you? We ain't kids no more."
"We never really was," Arthur mumbled.
John sighed. "Come on, sunshine. I'll buy you a whiskey."
"Not everything… but in the end," Arthur heard Strauss as they entered Keane's Saloon. "I don't believe in absolutes, just shades of gray. Compromises." With John following in behind him, Arthur saw Mr. Strauss sitting with Dutch at a table. They noticed the two men as soon as they walked up. "Gentlemen."
"Dutch, Leopold," said Arthur. "Has Sam come through here yet?"
"I don't think so," said Struass. "I'm sure he's fine."
"More importantly, where have you been?" said Dutch.
"Working…" said Arthur. "Marston's thing."
Dutch nodded. He found it a bit nice that his two sons were working together for once. "Good… and?"
"We're just waiting to get some pay on… a few sheep."
"Leopold, my good friend…" Dutch then said, "as long as you're here… why don't you and John go make sure there ain't no funny business."
"Of course." Strauss stood from his seat and stepped outside with John.
Once they were gone, Arthur took Strauss' seat. There, he talked about what had happened in camp, and what he was doing with John. Dutch was mostly just relieved that someone came in, because talking to Mr. Strauss made Dutch want to blow his brains out sometimes.
"Well, I don't blame him," said Duch.
"How you mean?" said Arthur.
"You didn't see the poor girl last night, Arthur. She was so torn up like everything was falling apart around her, all because she chose her family over love."
Arthur sighed. The thought of that brought Mary into his head. Arthur had done the same, but even if he had chosen her, he wouldn't feel at home. Her family hated him, judged him for his choices, with Jamie being the exception, of course.
Dutch poured some alcohol into a shot glass and made a second one for Arthur. "Maybe you should head up there, and make sure he didn't get himself killed. That family may be destitute, but you'd be surprised what one can do when they're cornered."
Arthur nodded. "I was planning on it, until I got caught up in Marston's shenanigans. Guess the Dutch van der Linde finishing school has some strange graduates."
"That it does." He held up his drink and looked at the man he had raised. "To your good health."
"Thank-you." They crashed their cups together and drank their shots.
"Van der Linde!"
A voice yelled from outside.
"Get out here."
The two men slowly put down their glasses, glancing at the window.
"Get out here now!"
"What the hell…" said the Dutch. The few other patrons inside were looking towards the source of the noise. It was coming from outside. Arthur knew it was really bad when the bartender began to duck under the counter.
Sam rode towards Valentine, the memories of his childhood of the three of them hanging out racing through his mind. It was over. All of it was over. He and Lily had no family, friends or any more ties to Valentine. His home. Lily's home. Archie's home. All of it was gone.
"Van der Linde!"
He hated himself. His abdomen clenched at the memory of what he had just done. His side ached like someone had jabbed him with a pen. His breath was rapid, and he hadn't even realized he was crying until he got to Valentine. He didn't want to be there at all. He wanted to go back to camp, curl up in his cot and shut himself away from the world.
"You don't know me… but you keep robbing me."
The voice made Sam stifle a sob. He gulped and realized the streets were empty. There wasn't a soul outside, which Sam didn't get because it was the middle of the day. For a moment, he feared the O'Driscolls had rode through town again, but nothing was damaged again, or worse than some things already had been, and no bodies were littering the streets. He dismounted Aurora once he was near Smithfield Saloon, walking quickly to check the rest of the street around the corner. Then his heart dropped.
"My name is Leviticus Cornwall!"
Sam had made it to the gun store, which had its door locked, and peeked around the corner. There he saw him: the man who had his rich fingers in many essentials keeping America going these days. Leviticus Cornwall.
He was an older man, balding, but the remnants of the gray hair on his head and his refined beard were combed neatly. He wore a white collared shirt, a blue tie and vest with golden buttons, and a black coat and pants. He was riding on a horse, surrounded by mercenaries.
"I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you!" he shouted at Keane's Saloon.
Sam's breath hitched. He looked around for any other mercenaries, and pressed his back against the wall of the gun store. Two mercenaries were dragging John and Strauss to the front of the saloon.
This was bad. They knew. They knew about the train Sam was told about they robbed while camping out in the mountains, the oil wagon, and possibly other things.
And they knew that someone in the gang was inside the saloon.
"Get out here," Cornwall yelled, "before I have these men killed!"
"Shit…" Sam hissed. They had hostages.
"Get out here, you depraved piece of trash! You think I got where I am by letting scum like you rob from me? Van der Linde, you're done. Now get out here, now!"
Sam was too far away to see any movement from within the windows. He had to help John and the others, but didn't know if he could take on that many men. Moreover, Cornwall probably had more mercenaries at his disposal.
"Deal with this nonsense," Cornwall said. He rode off, a couple of mercenaries following him. They passed by Sam by the gun store and they didn't notice him. He guessed that the man was so angry he had tunnel vision and his senses were obscured slightly because of it.
The front door opened and Dutch stepped out with Arthur. Both of them had their hands up.
"Please, gentlemen, this is a terrible mistake," said Dutch. "This is a case… of mistaken identity. What is worse… than admonishing a man… for the sins… of another."
Arthur was looking around. One mercenary had a hold of John, with a knife held up his stitched up face.
"Who wants to be the Messiah?" Dutch continued to ramble. "Not me… Nor do I want to be this 'Dutch van der Linde,' whomever he may be."
BANG!
While everyone was distracted by Dutch saying nonsense, Arthur drew his gun and got to work. A bullet hit the mercenary holding John in the head, and he fell. John pushed the body away before it landed on him and shot the mercenary holding Strauss before he fell to the ground. Arthur and Dutch took cover behind the fencing that was set up by the porch of the saloon.
By the time Sam looked, there were mercenary bodies laying in the streets. There were more coming however, some of them riding in wagons or horses. Sam saw more coming down the main street and others piling out from the second floor of the gun store.
"Push up," Dutch said, holding the pair of his favorite revolvers, "stay with me!" Instead of getting away from them, he started running towards where they were coming from.
"Where are you going," Strauss said, trying to follow after him. "That's right at them!"
"We don't run, Mr. Strauss!"
Arthur and John followed behind them, bringing up the rear. A bullet grazed the Austrian in the leg and he fell over screaming.
"Good God!" he yelled.
"They hit Strauss!" John shouted.
The older man struggled on the ground, while the man who shot him was reloading, when a bullet hit him in the head. Another wagon was pulling up with more mercenaries on it. More shots came, taking them down. Sam came out from around the corner of the gun store, and ducked under some crates.
Dutch was curious as to where Sam had been, but that had to wait until they were out of this. The others thought the same. John rushed out when the coast was clear enough and dragged Strauss to the nearest wagon, loading him into the back.
"John, we'll push the wagon," Dutch said, running up to him. "Arthur! Sam! Shoot someone!"
"What are we doing?" said Strauss.
"Getting out of here!" said Dutch. He didn't really assess the consequences of robbing from Cornwall, but Dutch was tired of running and hiding. He and John pushed the wagon forward, letting Arthur and Sam use it as cover.
Dutch laughed out loud, seeing his boys shooting down the mercenaries. "We are just gonna walk out of here!" Strauss was still groaning and screaming about the wound in his leg.
"It's just a scratch!" John yelled. "Shut up!"
"You can talk," Arthur said, pulling out his Lancaster repeater. "We all heard you whine about a little nick from a wolf."
"Would you shut up and kill these bastards?" Dutch yelled. He smiled, shooting more mercenaries who were coming out of the stables. Seeing as they were coming out of homes and businesses, Dutch knew that this was a planned assault. Of course the places would comply. Cornwall probably paid them… or, from what he heard from Sam, scared them into submission.
The coast seemed clear. Dead mercenaries were littering the streets of Valentine. Arthur walked over to the wagon and pulled Leopold over his shoulder. He yelled out in pain from the wound in his leg and was carried over to John's horse, where he sat him down behind the young man.
Sam had helped out in the shooting, but now that it was quiet, he seemed dazed. He was standing around, gun in hand, making sure no one was getting ready to shoot them. His eyes were blank, and his body almost unmoving as he saw the sight before him. The dark night when his uncle was taken from him replayed in his head.
These were mercenaries. They came to kill them, all of them were sent by Leviticus Cornwall, who was probably one of the most rich and powerful men in America, the same man that ravaged the town of Limpany. Nobody could prove it and those who could were silenced.
But seeing those men laying in the streets… Sam thought to himself. He might as well have been the O'Driscolls and these men could be the victims of them. He helped kill. The night when his uncle died, he fainted after his first murder… but now he could do it, without even flinching. A pair of tears escaped from his eyes. They flowed down from his cheeks and dripped into the dirt.
"You two make sure nobody's following us," Dutch ordered Arthur and Sam. He was hesitant to let Sam fight some more, but like he's told Arthur over and over, he wanted to practice what he preached, and have faith in him. "We'll get back to camp… We're gonna gather the troops… and get 'em to start packing up."
Finally, Sam opened his mouth and spoke. "You're… leaving?"
Arthur looked over at the young man. He looked like he'd been through hell. His hair was all messy, covered in dirt and glass dust, bruises starting to form on his face with new cuts on his body. His left side was starting to stain with blood, and his left hand was covered in it from holding it.
"Yes, we are," Dutch said, gesturing to everyone, including Sam. He climbed onto the Count and Arthur gave Strauss a reassuring pat.
"We can't stick around after this," said Arthur.
Dutch and John rode off with Strauss in tow. Sam had almost spaced out again, but then Arthur yanked him along and they hid behind some crates as more gunfire rang out.
"Don't just stand there, you idiot!" Arthur yelled.
Who came next were not Cornwall's men. They were the law. They had come out of the woodwork and were running out.
The camp was south from Valentine, but Arthur and Sam were stuck on the west side of town. The lawmen just kept coming. Even if they weren't, they couldn't risk leading any law or Cornwall's men to camp.
Sam hissed, ducking as more bullets whizzed past him.
"Screw this! Come on! We gotta move!" said Arthur. They both whistled for their horses and ran. Shooting back as they did.
Still, there was more law and they were chased out of town.
"Off the path!" Arthur ordered. "Come on!"
Sam followed Arthur, knowing that he knew a way out of this. He glanced back at Valentine one more time. All his time there was gone. He was nothing to that place then and he certainly was nothing to that town now. The pair crossed the Dakota River into West Elizabeth. Arthur was wanted there, but the heat was higher right now in New Hanover. Sam shut his eyes tightly as they left the region once more.
Valentine was no longer his home.