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Chapter 1: Colter Part 5

The next morning, Arthur arrived at their temporary camp. He saw Dutch and Hosea standing together, while Miss Grimshaw was bickering with the girls in the background. Arthur stopped his horse and dismounted, then walked over to Dutch and Hosea.

"So, we getting out of this hellhole?" Arthur asked them.

"We're gonna try. Weather seems stable." replied Dutch.

Hosea decided to point something out too. "And we just robbed a Leviticus Cornwall train."

"We got money in our pockets, the worst is behind us, gentlemen. So the question is, where now?" Dutch smoothly changed the subject, his tone calm and confident.

Hosea, ever the planner, didn't miss a beat. "I know this country a little," he began thoughtfully. "I told you we should set up camp at Horseshoe Overlook, near Valentine. We'll be able to hide out there with no problem, as long as we keep our noses clean."

As Hosea spoke, Arthur glanced to his right. He noticed John being lifted into a wagon by Lenny and Charles. John looked so helpless and foolish, struggling with the pain and exhaustion.

Arthur turned back to the others as Dutch spoke."Well then, let's go—clean noses and everything else."

"Arthur," Dutch addressed him, his voice commanding attention. Arthur looked up at him as Dutch pointed toward one of the wagons. "You're in that one. Bring Hosea. I know you two like to talk about the good old days and what's gone wrong with old Dutch."

Arthur exchanged a glance with Hosea, and they walked toward the wagon Dutch had appointed for them. It was the second-to-last one, creaking softly as they approached.

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After a good stretch of traveling, the snow began to melt into the earth, revealing patches of green beneath it. The cold, stark white transformed into the vibrant warmth of fresh grass. The white sky gradually shifted into a bright blue, dotted with a few soft clouds. It felt as though winter itself was gently stepping aside, allowing spring to take its rightful place, the world waking up from its long slumber.

"Lenny! Micah! Get over here!" Dutch called out sharply, his voice cutting through the air. Micah trotted up to Dutch's wagon, where Dutch and Pearson were sitting at the front, with Dutch holding the reins.

"Yes, boss?" Micah's tone was controlled, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of irritation.

Dutch, seemingly oblivious to Micah's mood, gave his instructions. "You two ride up ahead, make sure there's no surprises. We've had enough of those." Micah glanced at Dutch with clear disdain, but Dutch either didn't notice or chose to ignore the look.

"Me, with the boy?" Micah repeated, his voice dripping with disdain.

Dutch remained unfazed. "Just go."

Micah's voice turned raspy as he addressed Lenny. "Come on, kid. You can buy me a whiskey." With that, both of them spurred their horses into a full gallop, riding ahead of the group.

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After a while, the group had switched wagons. Arthur, still with Hosea, found themselves in the last wagon. They were crossing a lake, the path flanked by a cascading waterfall. The water made it difficult for the horses, and Arthur urged his steed to press on through the current.

"Get us out of the stream. We gotta keep moving, but calm," Hosea advised from beside him. Arthur responded by giving the horses a firm slap on the rear with the long reins. The horses pushed through, and they managed to get the wagon across the lake.

However, the moment they were out the water, the wagon broke down. The right back wheel snapped off with a loud crack. "Ah, shit!" Arthur yelled in frustration, the sudden halt causing a jolt of irritation.

"Okay, let's take a look." Hosea said calmly, his demeanor steady despite the situation. The wagon in front had also stopped, where Charles and Bill were assessing the situation, and Javier was on horseback, surveying the scene.

"You alright back there?" Bill called out.

Arthur stood up from his seat, his irritation evident. "Does everything look alright?" he grumbled.

"Well, what's going on?"

Arthur jumped down from the wagon, exclaiming, "Argh! I broke the goddamn wheel." He glanced at the wheel lying on the ground before walking over to the spot where the wheel was supposed to be attached.

"Alright, let's get it fixed." Hosea said, taking charge of the situation.

"You need help?" Charles called out as he ran to the back of the wagon where Hosea stood.

"I reckon we can handle it... Alright, Charles, you and me hold the thing up while you try and put the wheel back on, Arthur." Hosea instructed. Both he and Charles positioned themselves with their backs against the wagon, hands gripping underneath to lift it.

Arthur moved over to the wheel, picking it up and rolling it toward the wagon where it needed to be reattached.

"You still strong enough to hold up a wagon?" Arthur asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"Shut up." Hosea replied, the strain in his voice evident as he struggled to keep the wagon steady.

"I'm just saying." Arthur responded, his tone laced with amusement.

"Well, say less." Hosea retorted, his focus fixed on keeping the wagon in place.

Arthur picked up the wheel, its weight significant and the sturdy wood making it as tall as he was. With a determined grip, he positioned the wheel where it was supposed to be and pushed against it to lock it into place. He braced himself and leaned his shoulder into the wheel, pushing three times until it was firmly secured.

Hosea and Charles released their hold on the wagon, their task complete.

"See, you ain't so useless after all." Arthur remarked with a smirk, glancing at Hosea who was picking up the items that had fallen to the ground. Hosea laughed, massaging his sore back.

"Not quite." he replied, still chuckling.

Arthur picked up a wheel wrench and a lug nut from the back of the wagon and walked over to the wagon. As Hosea and Charles picked up the fallen boxes, Arthur placed the lug nut in the middle of the wheel and used the wrench to tighten it, ensuring the wheel was securely fastened.

Hosea looked up at the mountain, drawing Arthur's attention as he finished rotating the lug nut. Arthur followed his gaze, and Charles, noticing their focus, turned around as well. On the cliff, three figures on horseback stood, watching them from a distance.

"What do you think?" Arthur asked, quickly stowing the wheel wrench back in the wagon.

"If they wanted trouble... we wouldn't have seen them." Charles observed.

Hosea raised his hand in a half-hearted gesture, as if offering a greeting. "Poor bastards... we really screwed them over down here. Come on, let's not push our luck."

"What happened?" Arthur asked, curiosity piqued.

"Well, get in, and I'll tell ya." Hosea replied, gesturing for Arthur to climb back into the wagon.

Arthur climbed back onto the wagon, settling into his seat and taking up the reins once more. "Not too far now. Stay on this trail," Hosea instructed. Arthur gave the horses a firm slap to get them moving. "We'll follow the river, then cut left inland."

Hosea continued, "So... yes, the Indians in these parts got sold a very raw deal. This is the Heartlands we're heading to—good farming and grazing country. They lost it all, stolen clean away from them, every blade of grass. Killed or herded up to the reservations in the middle of nowhere."

"And how's that different from anywhere else?" Charles asked from the back of the wagon, where he had settled as Bill and Javier had earlier rode off to catch up with the rest.

"Well, maybe it's not." Hosea replied. "I just heard some of the army out here was particularly, uh, unpleasant about it."

"Unpleasant? How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?" Charles retorted. "We don't, in spite of Dutch's talk."

"I fear I was perhaps trying to simplify something more complicated for the benefit of our blockheaded driver here." Hosea said with a hint of amusement.

"Hey, don't blame it on me." Arthur interjected. "Never forget, this here's a conman, Charles, born and bred. Just 'cause it sounds fancy don't mean he knows a damn thing about what he's talking about."

"So... what happened to your tribe?" Arthur asked, his tone more subdued.

"I don't even know if I have one... least not that I can remember," Charles replied, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy. "My father was a colored man. They told me he lived with our people for a while, a number of free men did, but when we were forced to move from our lands, the three of us fled. I was too young to really remember much. All my life, I've been on the run. A couple of years later, some soldiers captured my mother, took her somewhere. We never saw her again. We drifted around... He was a very sad man, and the drink had a mean hold on him. Around thirteen... I just took off on my own."

Hosea interrupted Charles there, his voice cutting in with a hint of nostalgia. "That was about the age we found young Arthur here, maybe a little older. A wilder delinquent you never did see. But he learned fast."

"Not as fast as Marston, apparently." Arthur grumbled.

"Wait... I don't understand. What's the problem between you two?" Charles asked, his curiosity piqued by the tension in Arthur's voice.

"Arthur?" Hosea added, prompting him to explain.

"It's a long story." Arthur muttered, clearly reluctant to delve into it. He wasn't sure why, but talking about it felt like a betrayal. It was something personal, between him and John, something they needed to work out on their own.

Arthur couldn't quite wrap his head around it—why John got under his skin so much. They'd grown up together, been through thick and thin, but John's actions had always puzzled him. Maybe it was the way Dutch just accepted John back into the fold without a second thought, without any punishment for leaving them behind. It gnawed at Arthur because he knew if he'd pulled something like that, Dutch wouldn't have let it slide so easily.

John was a fool in so many ways, reckless and unreliable, yet somehow always landing on his feet. It frustrated Arthur to no end, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. There was a bond between them that couldn't be easily broken, but it didn't make the confusion and resentment any easier to deal with. They needed to talk, but Arthur wasn't ready—not yet.

Arthur decided to change the subject, eager to steer the conversation away from John. "We still heading the right way?" he asked Hosea, shifting his focus back to the task at hand.

"That depends," Hosea responded with a hint of dry humor. "Are we still heading west, in search of fortune and repose in virgin forests, as we planned? No. Are we heading in the correct direction on our desperate escape from the law eastwards down the mountains? Yes, I believe so."

"You know this area?" Charles asked, glancing around at the lush green mountains and the lake beside them, a stark contrast to the snow-covered terrain they had left behind in Colter.

"A little." Hosea replied. "I've been through here a couple of times. There's a livestock town not too far from here, called Valentine. Cowboys, outlaws, working girls. Our kind of place."

"O'Driscolls?" Arthur inquired, his tone cautious.

"Probably them too." Hosea acknowledged with a nod.

"Pinkertons?" Arthur asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Let's hope not." Hosea said, his expression reflecting the same concern.

"And this place we're going... wait, what's it called again?" Arthur asked, trying to recall the name.

"Horseshoe Overlook," Hosea reminded him.

"It's a good place to lie low?" Arthur asked, doubting a little.

"It'll do for now," Hosea replied, though his tone carried a note of doubt. "And how low do you think Dutch is really going to lie low? It's just... you know, maybe it's me who's changed, not him, but we kept telling him that ferry job didn't feel right. You and I had a real lead in Blackwater that could've worked out."

"Maybe." Arthur replied, his tone reflective.

"It's just... isn't like Dutch to lose his head like that." Hosea said, voicing his concern.

Arthur considered this. "Things go wrong sometimes. People die. It's the way it is... always has been. Me, you, Dutch, we've all been in this line of work a long time, and we're still here. So... I figure we must've got it right a hell of a lot more than we got it wrong."

For some reason, Arthur didn't quite believe himself as he said this. Despite his words, doubt lingered in his mind, a shadow over his conviction.

A few minutes later, they spotted Javier standing in front of a rock. "There you are, brother," he greeted with a nod. "Head in there, follow the track for a bit." Javier gestured towards the trees to their right.

"Thanks." Arthur replied, giving the reins a firm slap to urge the horses forward.

"Hey, slow up! I'll jump on." Javier called out. Arthur slowed the horses to a walk, allowing Javier to jump onto the wagon. Once Javier was settled, Arthur urged the horses to move forward again.

"Any trouble getting in here, Javier?" Hosea asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Nope, it went well. This is a good spot." Javier responded, his tone reassuring.

"Excellent." Hosea said, nodding in approval. "I think this will work for us, Arthur. For now, anyway." Hosea said, his tone hopeful as the trees began to thin out.

As they continued, the dense foliage opened up to reveal a clearing where the gang had already made significant progress setting up camp. "Here we are, gentlemen. Home, sweet home." Hosea announced with a sense of relief and satisfaction.

Arthur parked the wagon and brought the horses to a halt. Dutch walked towards them, his arms raised in satisfaction. "You weren't wrong, Hosea. This place is perfect."

Hosea, slowly climbing off the wagon, glanced at Dutch. "I hope so."

"Gentlemen, we have survived," Dutch declared, positioning himself by the table where Uncle was sitting with a bottle in hand, while Tilly cleaned up the area. "For now," Hosea added, his tone cautious.

Dutch ushered Uncle away, for Dutch to place himself at the seat Uncle had previously occupied. "Now it's time to prosper."

Arthur already stood by the table as Hosea slowly walked up to Dutch, who was holding a cigar and taking a leisurely puff.

"Arthur and I were about to prosper in Blackwater," Hosea began, frustration evident in his voice. "We were onto something big, then Micah got you all excited about the ferry, and here we are." Hosea threw his arm in the air, gesturing vaguely as he tried to make his point.

Arthur sat on the table, his gaze fixed on Hosea. Dutch leaned against a chair, his arm draped over it, listening intently.

"We've all made mistakes over the years, Hosea.." Dutch said, his voice measured. He then stood up, facing Hosea directly. "..every last one of us. But I kept us together, kept us alive, kept the nooses off our neck."

Dutch turned and started walking away, with Hosea and Arthur following closely behind. Hosea placed a hand on Dutch's shoulder. "I guess I'm just worried. I ain't got that long, Dutch. I want folks safe before I go."

Dutch stopped in his tracks, turning to face Hosea. "Me too." he spat with determination.

"And now we are stuck east of the Grizzlies, out of money, and a long way from our dream of virgin land in the West." Arthur looked between Dutch and Hosea.

"I know, my brother, but we are safe for now." Dutch said, trying to reassure Hosea. "We make a bit of money here, then we move again, head around them. We'll be west of Uncle Sam in a few months and buy some land."

"I hope so." Hosea replied, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

Dutch chuckled, throwing both his hands in the air and walking backwards. "Would you just look around you." he said with a grin. He turned toward the edge of the cliff, where the sunset painted the sky with vibrant hues.

"This world has its constellations." Dutch continued, gesturing to the serene scene.

They were interrupted by Herr Strauss, who approached the group. The three men looked at him, curiosity piqued.

"Gentlemen, I'm going to head into the local town, and you know... see if I can strike up a little business." Herr Strauss announced.

Dutch nodded at Herr Strauss, giving a casual wave of his hand with the cigar as if to say it was all right. "Of course, Herr Strauss." Dutch replied.

As Herr Strauss walked away, Dutch turned back to the beautiful view, leaning a bit closer to Arthur. "I prefer robbing banks to usury, seems more dignified somehow." He smiled, glancing at Hosea and Arthur.

Dutch turned around and walked towards his tent, calling out to everyone. "Now, everyone put your tools down for a moment. Come on, gather round, quickly now."

As the gang assembled in front of him, Dutch stood by his tent with Hosea and Arthur beside him. He faced the group, his expression serious.

"I know that things have been tough," Dutch began, "but we are safe now, and we are far too poor. So it is time for everyone to get to work."

Hosea then added, "Get to work, but stay out of trouble. Remember, we are itinerant workers."

Dutch quickly interjected, "Laid off when they shut down our factory to the north. Now, get out there and see what you can find. Uncle, Reverend Swanson... no more passengers." This comment elicited a few chuckles from the group, but Dutch's stern tone soon cut through the laughter.

"It is time for everyone to earn their keep." Dutch said firmly, bringing the focus back to the task at hand.

"There is a town a little way down the track," Hosea then said, "name of Valentine. Livestock town. All mud and morons if I remember right. That seems to be a decent place to start." Dutch nodded at Hosea.

Pearson then spoke up, "And uh... we need food... real food... that means every day, one of you."

Dutch pulled out a red box from his tent and placed it on top of a barrel. "And remember, whatever it is that you find... the camp gets its slice." He pointed to the box as he opened the lid, then quickly closed it. "Now be sensible out there." His tone made it clear that the conversation was over, and the gang members returned to their previous tasks.

Miss Grimshaw approached Arthur, standing beside him. "Now, the girls have your tent ready, Mr. Morgan, come with me. You two will be ready shortly." She glanced at Hosea and Dutch, who both nodded in acknowledgment.

She then motioned for Arthur to follow her. "We put you over here."

"I'm sure everything will be fine, Miss Grimshaw." Arthur replied, as he followed her.

"It should be. Most of your stuff from Blackwater got saved," Miss Grimshaw said as she led Arthur to his tent, which was situated next to Dutch's.

"Everything apart from my money," Arthur grumbled.

"Oh, don't remind me."

"Well, we can always make more money."

"We're going to have to," she replied, and Arthur sat down on his bed as Miss Grimshaw walked away.

"Miss Jackson... I've seen shit with more common sense than you. Do it properly." Grimshaw complained as she angrily walked to Tilly.

Arthur pulled out a cigarette and lifted his foot to light the match by striking it against the side of his boot. As the match lit, he brought it up to the end of the cigarette. Once his cigarette was glowing, he flicked his wrist to extinguish the match and tossed it into the grass.