Sam slept for most of the ride back to Rhodes. Arthur did, as well, hoping to kill time as the trip would take a while considering how far away West Elizabeth was from Lemoyne.
After the carriage dropped them off in Rhodes, Arthur doted on Sam's shoulder, insisting he ride behind him on Soleil, with Aurora following behind them. The camp wasn't far from where they were, and hopefully, Lily was calmly waiting for them at the tent she shared with Sam.
"A COUGAR?!" Lily practically shrieked, her hands on Sam's upper arms, as soon as he explained what happened. "Who… Wha-Are you okay?! How did a cougar… Are you okay?!"
Arthur sighed, said his apologies and went to deposit the money.
"Ah, Herr Morgan," Strauss greeted. "How did things go?"
"Same as usual," said Arthur. "Everyone was more or less destitute or desperate… or dead."
"What? But I told you-"
"Oh, it wasn't me. It was a cougar. Killed Winton Holmes trying to hunt its hide for the money."
Strauss' brows raised. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"And then it went after Sam!" Arthur grumbled. He closed the collection box, before lighting up a cigarette. "It got him, but he managed to throw it off and run. He was out with a fever for a few days."
"I see."
Arthur shrugged. "That's it? He nearly died. Handing out beatings is one thing, but-"
"Sam chose to get involved, Mr. Morgan," said Strauss. "I sent you, not him."
Strauss had made excuses as well when Mr. Downes died. Other than that rake, he wasn't able to lay a finger on him. Mrs. Downes paid off the rest of it, but according to Sam, it was like she was wishing damnation on all of them. And like before, Strauss said that it wasn't their problem.
"I was just… protecting you." Sam's words still rung in his ears.
Arthur sighed. Sam chose to go with him, but he was the one who chose to go out and get those debts, in the first place… wasn't he?
"Sure…" he said, flatly. The outlaw finished his cigarette and threw it into the dirt.
Dutch was by the tent soon to check up on Sam. He was a bit shocked to see Lily taking Sam's shirt off to reveal bandages wrapped around his torso, which was to cover up his back. They were removed, revealing stitches from a nasty wound, along with other cuts and that scar from that fire from when he was a child. Lily was just assessing the damage, cleaning it up a little before applying new bandages over them. Sam hissed, trying to stay still through all the prodding and poking. After Dutch entered the tent, Lily explained what Arthur had told her. And while they were on the subject, Dutch caught Sam up on what was going on in his absence.
"I've got Hosea looking into the Braithwaite place and John looking into something with the Grays," said Dutch.
"Need my help on any of that?" said Sam.
Lily raised a brow, staring daggers at the gang leader, as she put away her medical supplies. Dutch knew what that meant.
"Ah, I would, but… look at you." He gestured to the young man sitting on the bed, as Lily handed his shirt back.
"It's just a scratch, Dutch," Sam said, reaching to get his arm through the sleeve. "I'm fine." And he hissed. Lily grabbed Sam's shirt sleeve and helped him into it before trying to stand.
"Sit still, son." With a firm hand on his unwounded shoulder, he guided Sam back to sitting. "Lily, why don't you tell Sheriff Gray that Sam's gonna need a few days before he's back in action."
"But-"
"No buts!" Lily chided Sam like a mother. "That's you're shooting arm you need to rest."
"I have the other one!" Sam insisted. "I can't give up the hunt!"
"We're not telling you to stop," said Dutch. "You need to slow down. You're hurt."
Sadie, Charles, and I will keep you updated until you're better," said Lily. "Oh." She rolled her eyes. "And Micah, too, I guess. Don't worry."
Sam huffed, his arm with the injured shoulder twitching as it gripped the frame of the cot he was sitting on. "As if I have a choice…"
Lily eventually gave Sam some tea for the pain, and he fell asleep not long afterwards. She and Arthur met up with Hosea and Dutch in the leader's tent.
"He was out with a fever for about four days," Arthur explained. "He fought me a few times, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle." He looked over into Sam and Lily's tent and saw the young man already fast asleep from the tea Lily whipped up for him. The outlaw cleared his throat at the memory of how Sam clung to him at the welcome center. "Clingy bastard…"
"As much as I don't like what happened, thanks for looking after him," said Lily.
"Of course."
"Just… He's never been so stubborn about taking it easy," said Lily. "He usually knows when he's ill or injured, he has to relax." She sighed. "Well, it's not like I don't know why. Considering the stitches and how long it's been, he should be okay in about a week or so."
"That should be good," said Hosea. "He'll just need to rest until then, right?"
"Yes," Lily said with a nod. "But, I don't want him doing any heavy lifting until then."
"I'll talk to Miss Grimshaw," said Dutch. "Arthur, go ahead and take the rest of the day off, since you've had quite a trip. I'll let you know if something comes up. Lily, keep doing what you're doing."
Once the "kids" were dismissed, Hosea waited before leaving.
"Sam worries me, Dutch," the old man remarked.
"I know, Hosea," Dutch said. They stood outside of the tent, while Dutch lit up a cigar. "We've dealt with this before, remember?"
Hosea sighed. "That was a long time ago… Or at least it feels like it was, huh? Are you sure about this? Because I don't think a certain someone is making it any better." He glared at Micah who was busy at the table, sharpening his knife and staring at Abigail, who was working at Pearson's wagon.
The gang leader took a deep inhale of his cigar, before letting the smoke out through his lips. "Is Sam asleep?"
"For now. We'll have to make sure he keeps taking it easy."
Dutch grinned. This wasn't his first time handling stubborn children, even if the one in question wasn't a child. "Of course. I'll take care of my boy, no matter how much he hates it."
As far as Sam knew, Seth was still locked up in that little jail cell. At least, that's what he's heard from Micah. It's been two days, but he swore, however, that if he didn't get out of this camp soon, he was going to go crazy. He was banned from most of the chores. Although, he did know his way with a needle and thread, so he was allowed to sew, mend, and wash clothes with the girls, even if Micah or Bill gave him snarky remarks over it.
"At least you're the only exception to the men never helping out with the laundry," said Tilly.
"It's probably one of the only chores that doesn't require me to move my arm over my shoulder," Sam grumbled. "I've had patients come in with their clothes torn, so we do our best to mend them if we can."
"That's nice," said Mary-Beth. "Did you finish that book you borrowed from Lenny?"
"Oh, that mystery novel? Yeah, I liked the ending. The-"
"No, no! Don't spoil it!" the girl pleaded. "You think I could read it, now?"
"Sure. Just ask Lenny, but you'll have to trade me."
"Aw, all I read is a bunch of nonsense," said Mary-Beth. She put down the cloth she was sewing up and picked up one of her books. "Like, this one. There's a princess, who was raised as a peasant girl… but her noble blood shines through."
The two laughed, along with Tilly.
"Oh my gosh!" said Tilly. "That really is nonsense." She chuckled, and after folding the last of the laundry, she put them all in a basket and stood to go put them away.
Sam batted an eye at Mary-Beth. "Can I borrow it?" he said, quickly. "Don't tell anyone."
"Of course," Mary-Beth replied, happily.
After the clothes were done being cleaned and mended, Sam tried to get up and do some more work, but his wounded shoulder was aching. If he took any of that medicine, he knew he'd be out like a light in minutes. He had to get out of here and find out about those O'Driscolls. If he wasn't working, they'd make him get some rest, and he had to stay up incase, Micah, Sadie, or Charles returned.
However, he didn't have time to look for something else to do. Lily had eyes on him like a hawk, and even got the other gang members in on it. After he was done with helping with the laundry, Miss Grimshaw, of all people, was telling him to take a break.
"You go cool off, or I'll skin you myself, Mr. Hawkeson!"
He hobbled back towards his tent, holding the back of his shoulder, and gently rubbing the wounds. It still ached, and the stitches were kind of itchy, but he knew better than to scratch at it. He got to his tent, and found Swanson digging through his stuff and snatched a bottle. The two made eye contact. Sam didn't glare. He just sighed. The reverend slowly put the jar back down, his frame shaking horribly.
"I… I was just…"
"Yeah? Like this thing?" He held up a book, but before Swanson could try and take it back, Sam opened it, the inside showing a syringe, a needle, and some string. "I can't stop you." The young man shrugged.
"I-It's not like I want to," the reverend said, his head lowering in shame. "I-I just… I don't pity myself. I hate myself. Well, maybe not that, but… I don't know anymore." He didn't know what else to do, but he walked away, without taking that bottle with him. Sam graciously gave him his "book" back.
Cliff had dealt with a few people struggling with addiction. From what he knew, Reverend Swanson had some kind of addiction to morphine. It was difficult to deal with, even for someone with his uncle's experience, and Sam, nor anyone could do anything unless Orville put in the initiative.
It was late when Sam finally heard horses. He was sitting by the campfire, listening to Javier play guitar. Others were there, too, listening, drinking, or reading. He stood up as quickly as he could for a man with an injured shoulder, and met up with Micah near where the wagon of Moonshine used to be.
"Met a few fellers while I was off patrolling in your place," he said. He laughed to himself as he held out a few dollars.
"You robbed them?!" said Sam.
"Well, they were Braithwaite workers," said Micah.
"Wait, I work at the Grays."
"I was getting to that. One of the workers fessed up that there could be a clue to the so-called gold those two families could be sitting on. Something about a tree on the Braithwaite property."
"A tree? Did you tell Dutch?"
"I'm about to. Couldn't find which one, on the count of guards everywhere."
"Good. Go do that." Micah nodded. "And, uh… good work. I'll look into it when I'm back on my feet."
The blonde nodded, grinning at Sam. Sam never thought he'd miss it after being confined to camp for all of three days. He had lived with Lily and Cliff, but it had been just three of them, before it was them and his Aunt Violet. They got loud whenever they fought or were having too much fun, but he felt a sense of peace, and quiet moments were just as fine as the loud ones.
"Sadie's still out looking into them O'Driscoll, right?" Sam said, breaking the silence.
"Of course. Bastard in the jail still hasn't talked about where in Lemoyne they're hiding, but we'll get him squealing soon enough."
Sam grinned, and when he laughed at the violent remark, Micah wasn't the only one who heard it.
Arthur was writing in his journal at his tent, and looked up and saw Sam and Micah re-entering the camp together. They were laughing about something.
"So, like this?" Sam kicked the air real hard.
"No, you put your back into it, like this!" Micah kicked up dirt just as Kieran walked by, and the ex-O'Driscoll nearly fell over. The blonde laughed out loud as Kieran ran off, saddle in his hands.
Arthur huffed through his nose, lowering his head to look at his journal, but then Sam laughed, as well. It wasn't as loud and obnoxious as Micah's, but his reaction worried him.
"Think you'll find him?" said Micah.
"I've got to," said Sam. "I've come too far to back down, now. I mean, you got your payback at Skinny, right? He was gonna let you hang?"
"Hell yes!" Micah said, enthusiastically. "Eye for an eye."
"Exactly. I want to get even." The pair walked past Arthur's tent, and the outlaw feigned to be focused on tonight's journal entry. He still had a drawing of Strawberry somewhere on one of the pages.
Blackwater wasn't a joke. It wasn't that ferry Arthur had felt off about. It was Micah.
But Strawberry…
"They had something of mine… my guns. I showed him… and I'll show the rest of this town!"
Arthur had a bad feeling about this…
In the end, what has a man but his thoughts? I would postulate further, what is a man to stand for, but his thoughts? His actions, perhaps? I know precious little of actions. Lions, donkeys, hyenas. They all act. So is that what we are? No. We are more and less than the beasts. We are thoughts. We are actions and the reflections upon those actions. Yet, we are also not merely reflections. We are not mirrors.
That is the perseverance of spirits, of the gods. We are actions and the thoughts upon actions, neither one nor other. We are free neither from action, nor from thought. Our humanity can only be understood if we embrace both the animal and the god within us. As humans, we must nourish both, yet America is a land of action. A place fixed not on ideas, not on the redemptive power of the thought but on the obliteration of the intellect.
Sam closed the book he found by Dutch's tent and set it back down on the crate near the chair where the gang leader would usually read. He had tried to read it, since Dutch spoke highly of the author, but… he had no idea what the hell he just read. He absorbed nothing!
"Come on play, Pa!"
Sam looked over and saw Jack running up to John who was working on fixing one of the wagons.
John leaned away from his work momentarily. "What did you call me?"
"I'll be Achilles, you be Hector," Jack said, playfully, his eyes sparkling.
"I… don't read none of that nonsense," John said, hesitantly.
"It's easy. You swing your sword like this!" And he swung his stick around, but away from John.
The man sighed. "Now ain't such a good time, kid."
Jack huffed and stormed away, dropping his stick.. "Guess it never is…"
"You tried reading Evelyn Miller?"
Sam gasped and looked over at who was talking to him. Lenny walked by with a bowl of stew in his hands. It was the next morning, and everyone was waking up and getting started for the day.
"Yes, and… I guess I tried to read Evelyn Miller?"
"Tell me about it," the young outlaw said, stifling a laugh. "Nonsense, right?"
"Oh, I thought I was just too stupid to understand."
"Nah, it's Sean who thinks he's too stupid. That's why he's still unable to read."
Sam felt lucky that his uncle was a doctor, and therefore, was able to teach him and Lily to read and write. It was unfortunate that a lot of the populace couldn't, but the camp seemed better off in terms of literacy.
"He can't, or he doesn't want to?" said Sam.
"I dunno, but I haven't given up," said Lenny. "Hey, maybe you could help me."
Sam raised a brow. "How so?"
"'And… he… kn… knew he was… ca… ca…'"
"'Caught…'" said Sam.
"Okay," said Jack.
"What's going on in here, Hawkeson?"
Sean peeked into Sam's tent and saw him sitting with Jack. He had a book open and Jack was trying to read it.
"Just teaching Jack," said Sam. "Wanna help?"
"Ah, I don't need that," said Sean.
Sam feigned ignorance, and raised a brow. "You don't know how to read?"
Sean shrugged. "Eh, I've tried. It just ain't for me."
"Oh."
"What the hell do ya mean, 'oh'?"
"It's nothing," said Sam. "Now, try to read this part, Jackie."
"No, no, no!" Sean said, sternly. "Spit it out!"
"I just… reading is a challenge, but I didn't think you'd back down from one," said Sam. "That's all."
"'The… bad… prince… was… banished… from… his… king… dom'?" Jack read.
"Kingdom," said Sam.
"What's a kingdom?" the child asked, curiously.
"Aye, hold on!" Sean then raised his voice. "Gimme that!" He grabbed one of the many practice books from the pile and sat down.
Meanwhile, outside, Lenny was practically grinning ear to ear. It was the oldest trick in the book, but it seemed to work on Sean to get him reading.
Reverse psychology.
When Arthur returned from heading out, he was surprised to see an unlikely group in Sam's tent. It was Sam and Lenny, with Sean, Jack, and even Kieran.
"Well, since Kieran has decided to join us, let's have a quick review," said Sam. "Jack, how many letters are in the alphabet?"
"Uh… twenty-six," said Jack.
"Very good."
"'Ligihit'?" Sean read.
Lenny looked over at the text Sean was reading. "That's 'light'."
"Then why the hell is it spelled weird?"
"That's English for you," said Lenny.
"English made for right idiots, it is," Sean grumbled.
Kieran was just jotting down the letters. Sam secretly knew that the ex-O'Driscoll was just trying to impress Mary-Beth, but he couldn't say anything in front of Jack. It also really looked like he was trying his best.
Arthur grinned and headed over to Pearson's wagon to turn in some meat and pelts he had hunted.
Sam rubbed his sore shoulder after a day of teaching. He didn't think it would be so tiring, but with Lenny's help it wasn't so bad. Jack was off playing with Cain, Sean was drinking, and Lenny was reading, even after helping out with today's lesson, because he loved reading. The sun had just disappeared over the horizon, so it would only be a matter of time before Abigail called her child back to camp for dinner.
Some people were gathered by the fire, while Javier was tuning his guitar. Charles went off to play the harmonica in peace, so Sam took his place by the campfire. Instead of sitting on one of the chairs, crates, or the log however, he sat in front of the log, and let his feet stick out. Uncle handed Sam a beer and he graciously accepted.
Arthur walked around the camp. He thought about going towards the table, but saw John just chatting with Bill and Javier there, and he turned away, deciding to go towards the campfire instead.
John saw Arthur second guess his desire to sit with him. He was still mad about what he did, he supposed. He grabbed another whiskey and took a deep drink.
Arthur was glad to see Sam relaxing by the fire with the others. Trying to teach must really take it out of someone, especially if one of his "students" was Sean, who never knew when to shut up.
"Opening a school in the middle of camp, huh?" Arthur said, chuckling. He took a seat next to Sam on the ground.
"Might as well," said Sam. "The nurse's office is right there," he said, pointing at his tent. "Kieran's the new kid, Jack's the genius, and Sean's the bully."
"And what does that make you?"
"The teacher?" Sam took another swig of his whiskey. "Then, I guess Lenny's the principal."
"Alright," Lenny said, trying to bite back a smile. "That's definitely the drink talking."
And Sam just laughed. "Maybe…"
Lily looked around the camp. It was getting late and Sam wasn't in his tent. He wasn't by the dock, or at Pearson's wagon. A small fear went through her at the thought that he snuck away, unnoticed by the gang in a dumb attempt to get back onto his mission while he was still recovering. She quickly got Dutch to help her.
Dutch was fearful, but that was put aside, once he heard voices by the campfire. A lot of the boys were there, singing. Karen was there, and for once, was sitting on Sean's lap.
She went off to be a whore
Hung this sign upon her door
A dollar each and three for two
To take a crack at my ring-dang-do
The ring-dang-do, now what is that
It's soft and round like a pussy cat
Got a hole in the middle and it's split in two
And that's what you call the ring-dang-do
The song ended. There was some laughter and cackles. Dutch was relieved to find Sam sitting by the fire with Arthur. He was sputtering while trying not to accidentally spit out the swig of whiskey he drank.
"You're a dirty man," Arthur sneered at Uncle, after the song. The older man just chuckled.
Sam wiped his mouth and then leaned back on the log, upon hearing footsteps. Putting all his weight on the log, the young man leaned back far enough to look up and see the gang leader standing above him.
"Well, I guess the big boss man is telling me it's time for bed, boys," said Sam.
"Ah, come on, Dutch!" said Sean. "Don't be a party pooper!"
Dutch grinned, but kept firm, his hands on his hips. "Sorry, but the 'doc' says that Sam needs his rest."
"Well, screw you, too," Sam grumbled. Dutch knew that was the drink talking.
"Watch your mouth, boy."
"Sorry, sir." Sam stood up, let Arthur have the last of his second bottle of whiskey, and Dutch led him towards his tent. Arthur was just relieved that he caved into just enjoying himself.
Sam and Lenny kept the lessons going over the next few days. Sean slacked off sometimes, but Sam's reverse psychology got him into the "classroom" when they needed it.
"Okay," Sam said, looking over everyone's work. Sam's "students" were writing down some basic words. While Sam held up a piece of paper with a mix of letters. Their job was to find words to write down as a short warm-up to end the day, since Jack was hungry, and nobody liked it when he was cranky. "Kieran, why don't you read what you wrote."
"Uh… okay," Kieran stuttered nervously.
Sam shrugged. He smiled, and the ex-O'Driscoll was shocked to see that it was directed at him.
"It's alright," said Sam. "We're all learning here."
Kieran felt a bit better about this. Although, he was sure Sean would have a field day if he messed up.
"'Urn… Churn… Learn… Poppy…'" Kieran paused for a moment, making sure some words he wrote were actual words.
"S and H make a 'sh' sound," Sam reminded.
"And c and h make a 'ch' sound, right?" Jack said, kicking his feet.
"Right," the rookie outlaw said.
"'Shots…'" Kieran read. "Share… Chain… Chains… Chin… Lane… Lip… Hip… and, uh… lady."
Sam nodded. "Good job."
"Not bad, O'Driscoll!" said Sean.
Kieran sighed, but he was tired of reiterating over and over again that he wasn't one of Colm's men… at least not anymore.
"Alright," said Sam. "I'll look over your work. Practice the vocabulary I handed out today, and we'll meet here again. You boys have earned a break."
"Finally!" Sean practically ran out of the tent like an excited little kid, eager to get to Pearson's wagon for a drink.
Kieran was putting away his things. Jack hopped off the cot and walked up to Sam as he was putting the material for today's lesson away in a bag. Lenny had helped him put it together.
"Uncle Sammy?" Jack asked politely, hands behind his back. Sam turned to him, his heart fluttering at the word "uncle". "Why are you teaching an O'Driscoll?"
Sam looked at the child who was staring up at him. Kieran just sighed and was quickly trying to finish packing.
"What do you mean?" said Sam. "He doesn't know how to read. He's learning, like you."
"But, he's an O'Driscoll!" said Jack. "Momma always said that was bad."
"Well…" Sam paused. He saw Kieran frustrated, as his papers fell to the floor. "It's… It's because… he isn't one anymore…"
"Huh?" said Jack.
"Yeah, what?" Kieran suddenly looked up at Sam.
"He's not hanging out with them anymore, because he knows that they're bad, too." Sam crouched down to Jack's level. "Now, how about you go show your momma the cool words you wrote today?"
Jack nodded. "Okay!"
John walked by, just in time to see Sam pat little Jack on the head. The kid walked outside, just in time to see Cain.
"Come on, Cain!" the child said, happily. The dog barked and walked beside the boy. Sam and John locked eyes, but didn't say a word to each other as the rookie outlaw walked back into the tent.
Sam sighed, and went right back to sorting out the pencils, papers and books. All this work, and he wasn't even being paid for it. He wasn't paid for caring for the camp members when they were injured or sick, but there was satisfaction in seeing his patients get better and his "students" picking up what he taught them.
"Thank-you," Kieran said, as he walked towards the tent's exit. Sam didn't respond, but the ex-O'Driscoll knew he heard him. "S-Say… uh, you… You wanna go fishing with me later?"
"Fishing?" said Sam. "I… I never learned how…"
"But, I did!" Kieran exclaimed. "Let me return the favor for you teaching me."
Sam thought for a moment, he had been more distracted since he started teaching him, Sean and Jack, but he could do with some time out of the camp. His shoulder was aching less and less with each day, so maybe he could handle using a fishing rod, even if he's never used one before.
"Sure."
Kieran seemed to have a grasp about what he was doing. He had the right bait and tackle, even provided a spare fishing rod for Sam to use. It was all set up by the horses on top of some crates. Kieran didn't actually have an assigned spot to sleep in the camp, so Sam wasn't surprised to see his stuff just among the animals.
Sam couldn't help but think. He had stolen from the gang, but Lily was allowed to set up a tent for herself and Sam. All Kieran did was be an O'Driscoll in the past, but he was just… sleeping outside. No one cared enough to give him somewhere comfortable to sleep.
Sam just sat down with a sandwich and tried to eat, but… he couldn't help but think about how unfair it was… Kieran was an O'Driscoll. That gang killed his uncle, Sadie's husband, and Dutch's lover, as he heard it told.
Still… Kieran's sleeping conditions and treatment around camp was… almost sad.
"You back on your feet yet?" Sadie was walking up to him, repeater in her hands.
Sam wiggled his right arm, a small, dull ache on his shoulder. "Just about. Lily has to clear me, though. You know how she is."
"Well, this was your idea!" Sadie huffed.
"What was?"
"To go after the O'Driscolls!" said Sadie. "And now I hear you're gonna go fishing with one?! Bastards like him killed your uncle, remember?"
Sam bit his lip. "I-"
"Aw, leave him, Sadie," Micah sneered from behind her. He was smoking at the tarp that Bill, Hosea, and Lenny slept under at night. "He got scratched by one big cat and he's gone soft."
"Have not!" Sam snapped. "Dutch and Lily won't let up."
"Well, with you or not I'm gonna kill every last one of them!" Sadie snapped, and she stomped away to go clean her guns.
Micah just chuckled before he walked away. "Enjoy your fishing, kid. With an O'Driscoll."
Sam just huffed and took another bite of his sandwich as Micah walked away. Then he felt a hand on his uninjured shoulder.
"Don't listen to him, Sam." The young man looked up and saw Arthur standing next to him.
"I wasn't," he said, a mouthful of ham, cheese and bread. He chewed thoroughly and swallowed. Despite his sudden grumpy mood after Micah poked fun at him, he was happy to see a friendly face. "They're getting angry because I've been off my feet for almost a week or so. I'm not stopping, yet. I said I wouldn't."
"Okay, I've got everything, Sam!"
Kieran ran back with some extra fish hooks and bait, his pace slowing down as soon as he saw Arthur. "Oh, hey, Arthur."
"You and Sam going fishing?" said Arthur.
"Of course."
Arthur smiled, then it faded as he locked eyes with Kieran. He stepped in front of Sam, his stance intimidating Kieran as the outlaw stepped between the two and Kieran stepped back in fear. "Or you planning to hand the man trying to kill your boys to Colm O'Driscoll?"
"Of course not," Kieran answered, nervously.
The outlaw then laughed. "I was just joking."
Kieran laughed with him, but it was forced. "V-Very funny… I saved your life, and now you torment me. Ho-ho!"
Arthur glared. "Shut up."
"You wanna come with us, Arthur?" said Sam. "Kieran says he's really good at fishing."
The former O'Driscoll's face lit up. "I sure am. I can teach you something, too, you know."
The outlaw nodded. "Sure."
Sam tried not to let his urge to get back to work interfere with enjoying his first fishing lesson. They were on their horses, even if the spot Kieran suggested wasn't far from camp. They were just going to fish off the shores of Flat Iron Lake, a giant mass of water that actually surrounded the current camp that was Clemen's Point. Where they were wasn't far from it. Flat Iron lake was on the southern ends of Lemoyne, New Hanover, and even bordered the east of Blackwater in West Elizabeth. It wasn't noon yet, so the three could afford to fish, without getting cooked by the summer sun.
"Lots of Bass and Bluegill out here," Kieran said, as they dismounted their horses. He tossed the spare fishing rod he brought with him to Sam. "Should be easy enough for a beginner like you to assemble.
Sam, Kieran, and Arthur walked up to the shore. The rod clicked into place as Sam brought it out, unfolding it until it was completely assembled. He could kind of make out the shapes of fish in the water, but other than that, he could only see the trees and the sky being reflected in the lake.
"I guess we're gonna need some kind of bait?" said Sam.
"Yep." Kieran set down his rod and walked up to Sam and grabbed his fishing line. He then tied a worm to it. "That should hold you over."
"Oh, okay," said Sam.
Kieran walked behind him. He put his arms on Sam's to help him grip the fishing pole. "Okay, now grip the rod with both hands," he said, adjusting Sam's arms until he was doing as he was told.
"Like this?" Sam's hands were gripping it like a sword, still under the handle to reel in the line.
"Yep, like that."
Arthur had already casted out his line, but was looking over and trying not to glare at the former O'Driscoll, laying his hands on Sam like that. Kieran grabbed Sam's wrists and pulled them back until the rod was over his shoulder. The position tugged on Sam's stitches a little, but it didn't hurt.
Kieran stepped away and patted Sam on the back. "Okay, now swing it forward in a smooth motion. Use your wrists, not your elbows."
Sam brought the rod forward in a smooth motion, and the line casted out over the water. "Like that?"
"Perfect," Kieran said, with a thumbs up. He scrambled to pick up his own fishing pole and get to fishing himself. "Now, all you do now is wait for the fish to take the bait. You'll know you've got a bit when you feel somewhat of a big yank on the pole, but if it's just twitching, don't reel it in yet.
"'Kay…" said Sam. Sam took a deep breath and just tried to stay calm. He had no idea why he was so nervous. It was just fishing.
"You getting many bites there, O'Driscoll?" said Arthur.
"I ain't an O'Driscoll!" said Kieran. "I told you fellers a hundred times. I'd only been with them a couple of months. I was just a runner, helping out with the horses, mainly."
"Then… how'd you fall in with them?" said Sam.
"Well, uh…" Kieran looked over the waters. "It's a long story."
"Well, we've got nothing but time right now. And I sure as hell ain't going anywhere."
"Well, my pa got sick and died… my mom got sick and died…" Kieran said, solemnly. "It was cholera. The stable I worked at as a kid threw me out shortly after. I joined the army, but that didn't work out, so I fell in with some outlaws…"
"The O'Driscolls?" said Sam.
Kieran shook his head. "No, but… they got killed by them. They spared me, and they gave me a choice: ride with them, or die."
Sam hummed. "So, it wasn't much of a choice…"
"No, siree, but I'd say I'm more Kieran van der Linde than Kieran O'Driscoll, now."
Arthur snorted. "I hate to break it to you, but I don't think Kieran van der Linde is gonna stick."
Sam was nearly knocked off his feet when he felt a tug on the line.
"Oh!" he yelled. "I got a bite!" He yanked back and got the fish on the line. "Uh… What do I…"
The other two men watched as the fish on the line struggled in the water, squirming and shaking around.
"Don't reel it in yet," said Kieran. "Wait until he tires out."
The ripples in the water eventually became smaller, and Kieran told Sam to reel it in. He went as fast as he could, but not too fast, for Kieran said he could snap the line. It wasn't long before the fish started struggling again, which made Sam stop reeling it in until it was tired.
"That's right," said Kieran. "It's like tug or war."
"Almost…" Sam said, pulling the rod back. And with enough effort he managed to reel in a Bass.
"Wow." Kieran was over immediately to take the hook out of its mouth.
"See? Anyone can do it!" he said. "He went to go store the fish away for the camp." Sam's heart was pumping with excitement. Arthur chuckled to see Sam smiling like a giddy little kid in a candy store.
Sam was excited, but all too quickly, his smile faded.
"I need to get back to work…" he then said.
Arthur sighed. "Sam-"
"I know what you're going to say, so just don't. While I've been playing teacher, getting drunk and singing, the others have been working on what I've started."
"You're injured, Sam," said Arthur. "It's fine."
"But-"
"Don't let Micah get all up in your head." Arthur felt a tug on the line and yanked back to hook whatever was taking the bait. "He has that kind of effect on people and it gets them into trouble."
Sam hesitated to ask, as he tied another worm onto his fishing line. "You… You mean, like Dutch?"
The outlaw swallowed, fighting against the fishing that was struggling until he tired it out.
"I heard about Blackwater…" Sam said, softly.
Once the fish was tired, Arthur continued reeling it in.
"Well, just bits and pieces," Sam continued. "Javier and John don't like talking about it, and the rest don't know much. Dutch shuts me down wherever I ask."
"Yes…" Arthur finally answered. "I wasn't there, but… it weren't pretty." Finally, he reeled in a fish. It was a small Chain Pickerel, so Arthur threw it back into the waters. "Hosea and I were both saying how that ferry didn't look right for the job, but like usual, Micah was whispering in his ear like a goddamn snake."
"Is that why you don't like him?" said Kieran.
"He's a bad influence on everyone. We've gotten in trouble before, but never like this." Arthur spat the words out like venom. "We ain't never been this far east in years, but that changed once goddamn Micah joined up. Anyway, just forget about Micah, Sam. Concentrate on feeling better. It's a nice day out and you've already caught a fish."
Sam nodded. "Yeah… Just…" He walked over to the shore, remembered how to hold his fishing rod back before using his wrists to cast out. "I feel like… when I enjoy myself… it's wrong."
"Why's that?" Arthur said, tying some new bait onto his fishing line.
"Because my uncle's killer is still out there when I'm lazing about," said Sam. "And I used to love lazing about, but that's always in the back of my head, when I do now."
Kieran sighed, as he reeled in a Bluegill. "I'm sorry."
Sam shook his head. "No. It… It weren't you that shot him."
The ex-O'Driscoll tried to contain the joy he felt to hear Sam say those words. Sure, they weren't as kind and friendly, and were referencing violence, but… it was something.
Arthur shrugged his shoulders and casted out his line. "There wasn't anything you could've done back there. They knocked you on the head."
"'Nothing I could've done'..." said Sam. "It's always the same. My aunt died of sickness, my mother was killed, and my uncle, the same…" His eyes fell on the clear waters, seeing the small fish swimming around. "All of them, I couldn't do anything."
"Sam-"
"I can't protect anyone." Sam shrugged his injured shoulder, feeling the stitches tug a little. "Even when I try, I almost get myself killed. I can only avenge them…"
Before Arthur could say anything, Kieran gasped. "What in the world?"
The three picked up on whistling. They turned their heads in the direction of it, and saw a naked man swimming in the lake.
"Are you seeing this?" said Kieran. "Feller's naked as a jaybird."
"Is that why you like this spot?" said Arthur.
"My Lord… there's somebody who needs to go to confession."
"Hey!" Arthur yelled, as the man was nearing where their fishing lines were cast. "Watch the line."
The swimmer stopped where he was and noticed the three men. "Whoa, hey! I nearly gulped down a minnow! Sorry fellers, didn't see you there. You here for some fishing?"
"We hope to," Arthur called back. "You haven't scared 'em all away, have you?"
"Oh, just so you fellers know, there are some real big ones over that way," the man said pointing east. "Like this." He held up both his hands to show how big they were but ended up sinking below the water. Quickly, the man started swimming back to the surface.
"Well, what do you think?" said Kieran.
"Yeah? Maybe we'll take a look," said Arthur. "Thanks."
"Hope you gents catch something!" the naked man said.
"Yeah, let's go get 'em!" said Kieran.
The three reeled in their rods and mounted their horses. Once they were on their mounts, they rode over the hill. Kieran was already ahead of them.
"Wait up!" said Arthur.
They went through the trees and arrived at a different place near the lake. Arthur and Sam had never seen Kieran so excited before. Upon reaching the shores, they saw a big fish jump out of the water, momentarily. Sam flinched, having almost never seen a fish do that before.
"Whoa!" said Kieran. "Did you see that amazing Bluegill?"
"You think you can catch it?" said Sam.
"Hey, with the right bait, you can catch almost anything!" the ex-O'Driscoll proclaimed. He let them borrow some extra lake fishing lures and they casted out. There was some quiet for a while, which Arthur was thankful for, even if he could see Sam self-loathing to himself in those silver eyes.
"Enjoy yourself, Sam," Arthur reminded him. "See, look at this. Life ain't so bad. Least you weren't tied to a tree."
"Very funny," said Kieran. "I'm still a prisoner, you know. I can't step outside camp by myself for a second without being terrified one of Colm's boys is gonna pick me up. When I'm in camp, I got Bill and Sadie whispering in my ear all the time, how they're gonna kill me in my sleep. It's like living in a nightmare."
"Christ. If I'd known you were going to moan this much, I'd never have said yes to this."
"What!? So, Sam can complain, but not me?"
"I think he was making a joke," said Sam.
"Oh, ho-ho!" Kieran pouted.
And Arthur was just grinning.
"Whoa!" Sam was nearly pulled into the water from a harsh yank from a fish on his line. He pulled back, but damn! The fish was strong!
Kieran dropped his fishing pole. "Is that it?! It has to be it!"
"I don't know, but it feels big!" Sam said, nervously. "You wanna reel it in?"
"No, Sam," said Kieran. "This is your fish! Wait 'till it tires out, then reel it in!"
"I'm trying!" the darked haired man struggled against his fishy foe, but it sure had stamina. He found himself being pulled, the sand providing little friction. "Shit!"
Arthur ran up behind Sam and put his arms around his waist. "Hang on!" he said. "Come on!"
Sam struggled to reel it in. The fish was resting, so Sam knew what to do, but damn! That fish was heavy. When it struggled to break free again, even Kieran got in on trying to keep Sam from getting yanked into the water. Sam was really digging his heels into the sand as he kept pulling.
"You almost got it!" said Kieran.
That much was true. The fish was reeled in almost close enough for Sam to see it. He could see its shadow beneath the lake water.
Sam pulled some more, but the fish was pulling back some more, too. Everyone was determined to catch that darn Bluegill. Just then, the fish yanked back, and just as that happened…
BOOM!
A large explosion made itself heard just as Sam's line snapped and he, along with Arthur and Kieran fell onto the ground.
"Shit…" Arthur said, climbing out from the pile. Kieran struggled to his feet, while Sam stood up.
"Damn…" said Kieran. "What the hell was that?"
"The fish ruining the line…" Sam answered.
"No, that explosion!"
Sam looked in the noise's direction. They picked up their fishing rods and ran through the small patch of trees. Once they were through, the three could see smoke coming up from over the hill.
"Ain't that where Rhodes is?" said Arthur.
Sam's jaw dropped. "Kieran, get back to camp!" He ran forward, ignoring Arthur's warnings, or whatever he said, and whistled for his horse.
Sam didn't care how his stitches tugged on his skin as he rushed to mount his horse, Aurora. He didn't care that he was rushing towards the danger instead of away from it. He didn't care about people running away from the town, or the gunshots.
Sam got off his horse, and Aurora ran off to go hide, he marched down the street and then ducked, hiding behind the general store. While he hid he heard the screaming of civilians, men, women, and children crying. They were hurt, scared, dying, or crying over a dead loved one.
He shot a group of men as they were leaving the town. They were wearing green on at least one piece of clothing or on an accessory.
O'Driscolls.
Micah stepped out of the police station with the sheriff. Sadie was there, too. A huge hole was in the side of the building.
"What the hell happened?!" Sam's voice caught their attention. He walked up towards all the commotion.
"What do you think happened?!" said Sadie. "Those bastards broke out their buddy!"
"WHAT?!" Sam shouted. "We gotta go after them!"
"We can't!" said the sheriff. "They injured a lot of my men."
Sam looked around seeing officers picking up their injured comrades. Others weren't so lucky. The town doctor had come out from the clinic with some other workers to help. Dead officers and civilians were in the streets. Buildings had bullet holes in them and the streets were filled with debris.
Sam tried to maintain his composure. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. In for six seconds, hold for six seconds, exhale for six seconds…
The sight of this town… The dead people… the crying… the blood, and the debris…
It was like Valentine all over again.
He could've been here. He could've done something.
The young man lowered his head in shame. "I'm sorry…"
"Is that all you can say?" said Micah. "If you had been here, you could've done something."
Sam didn't raise his head. He didn't want to look at Micah. He didn't want to look at or be looked at by anyone. He wanted to go to camp, curl up on his cot and make this all go away. "I was-"
"Fishing…" Micah answered for him. "If you're well enough to do that, you're well enough to be out here. I thought you wanted to kill those bastards."
"Oh, I'll find out where they've gone…" said Sadie. She hadn't looked away from the direction the O'Driscolls fled.
"Sadie, if you go alone, they'll kill you!" said Sam.
The blonde shook her head. "I ain't afraid of dying…"
"Well, your husband wouldn't want you dead."
Sadie huffed and walked right up to Sam, her brown eyes staring right into Sam's soul.
"You don't know shit about my husband!" She walked away brushing his shoulder harshly as she walked towards her horse.
"And you, Micah!" said Sam. "Since when did you give a shit about other people?!"
"I'm just doing as I'm told," said Micah. "I'm trying to protect the people here like you should have instead of leaving it to me."
The sheriff wiped his forehead. "Don't beat yourself up over this, Sam. There was nothing you could've done."
Sam hated those words. And now, he was hearing them again. He had a hand over his shoulder, fingers tracing over the stitches beneath the fabric of his shirt.
"So, you gonna help with this or hobble back to camp?" said Micah.
Sam nodded. "Let me help. I have experience working with a doctor."
"Are you sure?" said Sheriff Gray.
"I need to start pulling my weight again. Let's just get this done." He began to walk towards some injured people, opening his satchel of medical supplies.
"Finally…" said Micah.
Sam did not return to camp until it was late. There were a lot of injured folks and officers, as well. He tended to them the best he could and made his way back to camp, with Micah and Sadie riding behind him.
Lily looked up from her work and her face lit up to see Sam. He walked up to her, bags under his eyes. There was blood on his clothes, but she could tell it wasn't from injury. He had been helping the injured, trying to heal and save lives. His frame shook like he had been panicking, but Lily couldn't recall hearing any thunder.
Sam looked up at Lily as she approached him, his eyes tired, marred from too many sights of the injured, those in agony, seeing painful scenes, and sad goodbyes to loved ones and limbs.
"Sam, what happened?" said Lily. "I saw you go fishing with Kieran and Arthur, but-"
"The bastard escaped from the jail," said Sam. "And the O'Driscolls shot up the town!"
Lily gasped. She put her hands over her mouth.
"Think you can check on these stitches? They may be healed by now."
"S-Sure, but…"
"Lily, a whole town just got shot up while I was out fishing!" Sam snapped. "Please!"
The younger cousin flinched at his outburst. "Okay, okay!" said Lily.
Arthur glared at the scene as Lily rushed Sam to her tent. Micah and Sadie went their separate ways, but the outlaw stopped Micah before he could get to Dutch.
"What the hell did you say to Sam?" said Arthur.
"Nothing!" Micah said, holding up his hands, like he was surrendering. "He saw what happened in town and-"
"Yeah, I heard that. That doesn't mean being a bastard to your cousin."
"I told him to get off his ass and work," said Micah. "He ain't bleeding, no more, Morgan. There's work to do around here. You of all people should know that. We've got Pinkertons on our tails-"
"They wouldn't be if it weren't for you!"
"Oh, again with that darn ferry…"
"That ferry is why we're on the run!"
"We're outlaws, Morgan! We'll always be on the run! I'm keeping everyone working, while you Sam and the O'Driscoll were out fishing! Sam's job is keeping those O'Driscolls off our tails. We can't do that if they're poking around the town that's close to camp. Like I said before: 'big shadow, tiny tree.'"
"Revenge ain't the answer, Micah," said Arthur. "It don't keep no one fed. It don't save or protect lives. It gets a town like Strawberry shot straight to hell!"
Micah rolled his eyes. "Never stand between a man and his vengeance, cowpoke. They'll destroy everything in their path to get it, even their friends, if they try to stop them."
Arthur glared. His eyes twitched. He would've punched Micah right in the middle of camp, but he knew better. So, he held his fist back. If he didn't do something, Sam would fall further from who he was before his uncle was taken from him.
Sam was capable of doing the right thing, even at his own expense. He put himself in danger to save others. He saved Arthur more than once, and didn't even seem that mad to be laid up in Strawberry because of it…
But he would never forget the horrible sight of Sam covered in blood… as he threw someone to the floor in that barn and blew out their skull. A bounty hunter had Arthur by the neck, but Charles saved him. There was no need for… that reaction.
Before he walked back to his tent, he said one more thing to Micah.
"Stay away from him…"