Disclaimer: I do not own Red Dead Redemption 2. This story contains blood, violence, abuse, and dark themes. Viewer discretion is advised.
Most, if not all, of the horses were awake when Kieran walked into the stables with Branwen and led her into her stable, which was the first stall and was already open. He ensured she was locked correctly in, and each horse was given their breakfast before tending to his fresh cuts and bruises. After gathering a damp cloth and damp bandages from beneath a loose floorboard, he took off his coat and shirt. The chill air nipped at his bruised skin, making him shiver, the old, stained bandages wrapped around his torso and arms providing thin coverage.
He let the cloth sit in the snow before sitting down on a crate and patting it on his neck, shoulder, and back, hissing through his teeth as the action stung his tender wounds. He made a mental note to pick up a bottle of alcohol the next time he visited the clinic in Valentine, which felt so far away up on this snowy mountaintop. He went on to try and wrap his shoulder, but the task quickly became pointless with his limited range of motion and his shaky hands from the cold.
"You strugglin', lad?" the sudden voice startled him, making him jump and drop the bandage roll. It rolled until it stopped at the feet of the new arrival. Mondy picked up the roll from the floor, rolling it back up and dusting it off. His mossy green eyes held a striking mix between amusement and disappointment. "How long were you plannin' on failin' until you ask for some help?"
"I-I don't know?" the jumbled words sounded more like a question than the statement he wanted. Mondy groaned with a roll of his eyes.
"Of course. Go on and turn back around. I'll wrap you up proper." Kieran did as he was told, unable to stop himself from flinching as Mondy approached from behind. "Hold up your arms." Mondy's rough hands were anything but gentle, making Kieran cringe and hiss. "What's with all that baby noise? Come on, toughen up a bit, big guy." He scolded.
"Sorry."
"Let me guess, big bad Conan was the one that did this to you?" Kieran nodded. "And you didn't fight back?"
"I di-didn't wanna f-fight him."
"Look where that got ya." Mondy finished the wrapping with a firm pat on the back. He walked in front of Kieran; with Kieran sitting down, Mondy looked much taller than he already was. "Listen, lad, you're barely survivin' by the skin of your teeth. So what's it gonna take until you do somethin' for yourself?" An "I don't know" was on the tip of Kieran's tongue, but he quickly swallowed it under Mondy's scrutinizing glare. "Nothin'?" Mondy sighed, his glare softening. "That better change soon." He tipped down his hat. "Colm's finishin' up the new plan. Hurry up, get the horses done, and then come to the main cabin with Ruarc. We've little time with those damn Van der Lindes close by." He left the stable with those orders, leaving Kieran to redress himself and get to work.
Taking care of the O'Driscoll horses was as stressful as it was rewarding. Their riders did little to keep them from getting their coats dirtied with mud and gunk, stones and pebbles stuck in their shoes, or making sure their reins weren't too tight. The horses would be in a sour mood whenever he'd start working on them, being cautious not to be a bit when adjusting their reins or kicked by them when fixing their shoes. But the frightened horses usually calmed down halfway through their treatment, with their temperaments much brighter after the care was finalized. It was always satisfying to give them a small treat afterward and see the simple gleam in their eyes.
Ruarc was undoubtedly the best well-bred horse out of the herd, being a sleek chocolate roan-coated Dutch Warmblood that Kieran worked hard to maintain. Ruarc was, after all, the steed of Colm O'Driscoll. Kieran led the well-mannered steed out of the stables. Nearly every O'Driscoll was up by now, either scheming, "working," or finalizing the supplies for the train robbery.
"Hey, stable boy!" The shout made him jump into Ruarc; the steed kept his composure while Kieran was already crumbling on the inside. He looked at the table of gang members that had called his name. Seamus gestured for him to hurry over to them. Kieran wanted to say that he needed to be somewhere, but the thought died before he could speak, and he reluctantly walked over with Ruarc in tow.
"Yes?" He asked, unable to meet Seamus's piercing eyes.
"Get the lads and me some drinks." He nodded while internally groaning, hoping that he needed nothing more. He came back with all four drinks and placed them on the table, the O'Driscolls promptly grabbing at the bottles. He turned to leave."
"You know when Robbie and the others are comin' back?" But turned right back around at Donal's question.
"No, s-sorry."
"Ah, that's a shame. We usually play five-finger fillet with Robbie around this time. You wanna take his place, stable boy?" Kieran was already shaking his head before he spoke, wringing his bandaged hands together.
"No, sorry, I-I'm b-busy." He tried to walk away, but a firm hand gripped his wrist. Seamus pulled him back over with a laugh:
"But you've been workin' so hard, stable boy." He forced Kieran's hand flat on the table as Donal pulled out his knife. "Have some fun!" His nerves stung fiercely as his mind and body screamed at him to get away, franticly trying to pull his hand away from underneath the knife's blade.
"S-Stop-p it-t! Th-thi—"
"W-W-What's the matter? Sc-scared?" Seamus' mocking laughter quickly molded into cries of pain as Ruarc bit into the back of his scalp, releasing his hold on Kieran, who fell back into the snow. The O'Driscolls switched their attention from the stable boy to Seamus as he desperately tried to pull his hair free, cackling like jackals. Kieran got up to help, pulling out his pocketknife and cutting the hair between the steed's teeth. Then, with the laughing gang members distracted, he took his chance to escape them with a sigh of relief.
"Thank you." He said, patting Ruarc on the neck. He tied Ruarc's rein to the post in front of the main cabin before walking up the snowy porch stairs and knocking on the door.
"Who the hell is it?" Conan shouted, irritated from the other side.
"It's me." Light footsteps tapped over to the door before it opened with a wide swing, revealing Maeve on the side, her curled grin and round dark eyes doing their best to appear welcoming.
"Mornin', horse boy." She loftily greeted him, letting him in.
"Mornin'," he muttered, walking inside. The scent of rot hung thick in the air, making his nose curl. So, they didn't toss out the Van der Linde's body.
Mondy, Tommy, and Conan were seated at the dining room table with Colm at the head. The O'Driscoll leader looked up at him, and he immediately felt the strong pull of his powerful gaze. Colm smiled.
"You made it just in time, boy. Have a seat." He pointed to the empty seat beside him. Kieran quickly took his seat, ignoring the glares from Tommy and Conan as he passed by. "As I was sayin'," Colm began, "We'll split up. Mondy and Maeve take a few boys southeast of Citadel Rock in New Hanover." He marked the spot on the map with a pencil. "Conan and Tommy, take your boys and head to Dewberry creek east of the Heartlands, and Kieran and I will go to Six Point Cabin in the Cumberland Forest. Some of the boys are already hidin' out there. It'll take a few days at least and a week at most for us to get there. Depends on how fast we ride and if we get into trouble. By the first week of June, we'll meet near Fort Wallace. We leave as soon as possible while the Van der Lindes are still settlin' in."
"So, we're just leavin' 'em be?" Conan questioned with his arms crossed over his chest, earning Colm's cold glare.
"For now. Don't doubt that that bastard will pay for what he did to us. Dutch van der Linde will suffer. I guarantee you that, boy. So, you just shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you. Got it?" Even though the harsh tone wasn't directed at him, Kieran shrunk down in his seat.
"Yes, sir," Conan grumbled, uncrossing his arms.
"Good." Colm rolled up the map and stuffed it in Kieran's arms. "We'll head out now, but I'll give a little speech first. Get the boys excited." Kieran was the last to get out of his chair and exit the cabin, where he stood by Ruarc, stroking his mane, watching as Colm shot his gun into the air. The working gang members stopped whatever they were doing, and those asleep woke up instantly, all looking to their leader.
"Gather around, boys," Colm shouted from the porch, his companions fanning on either side of him while his followers came to surround him. "' Tis a lovely mornin' to be alive, boys! Now I know it may not seem so on account of us freezin' our asses off. But you all must remember why we are here on this very mountaintop. For the money! There's some rich bastard's train runnin' through here just askin' for a robbin'. We'll be drownin' in so much money, we'll get whatever the hell we want, boys!" a cheer raised through the crowd, and Kieran quietly clapped his hands together. He rarely went on jobs that required shooting, and he preferred to keep it that way.
"Now," Colm started again, his tone firm and smile thin. The crowd quieted, "If we're to pull this off, not one of you boys can get cold feet. And if any of you sorry sods do, you might as well go ahead and throw yourself off the cliff with Robbie. Seeing as that's where you'll end up bein'." The sliver muzzle of his pistol shone in the morning light. "Now get back to it, boys." He flipped his gun back into its holster as a final dismissal, the gang members either returning to their work or just starting to. Kieran undid Ruarc's rein from the post as Colm came down the stairs.
"Pack up and get on Branwen, boy," Colm ordered Kieran as he mounted Ruarc. "I'll be waitin' for you at the front."
"Yes, sir." Kieran headed towards the near-empty stables and led Branwen out of her stall. He packed his clothes, bandages, spare clothes, and map into his mare's saddle bags. "Steady, Bran," he said, pulling himself onto her back and riding out of the stables.
"Wait, Kieran," The mention of his actual name made him stop in his tracks and look back to see Maeve walking over to him with a map in hand. "You dropped this," she said, waving it around with a smile.
"Oh," he gasped, a bit surprised. "Thank you, Ma-aeve."
"Don't mention it," she put the map in his saddle bag. "Where are you meetin' the boss man exactly?" He looked to the camp entrance, immediately finding the gang leader on his steed waiting.
"At the fr-front, waitin' f-for me." He looked back to Maeve, who had her hands behind her back, rocking back and forth, grinning still. "Be safe, pl-lease. See y-you in June."
"See ya." She waved. It didn't take him long to meet up with Colm, who took a final drag from his cigarette before flicking it into the snow.
"Finally ready, boy?" Colm asked, a blend of smoke and hot breath steaming from his lips. Kieran nodded. Both horses trudged leisurely through the snow that glittered stunningly in the sun's light which burned brightly in the soft blue sky above shining rivers of crystal water. Despite the piercing cold, Kieran would have liked to find an excellent fishing spot, cast a line, and simply enjoy nature's scenery as he waited for a bite. "Whatcha thinkin' about, boy?" the sudden question pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked to Colm, who had slowed down Ruarc to keep pace with Branwen.
"Fishin'." He said simply. Colm cracked a smile, his coal-like eyes glossy.
"You would be. I've been meanin' to get you a new rod, but I've just… been a bit preoccupied."
"No, i-it's alright. I a-ain't got time for fishin' anyw-ways." Colm's brows furrowed.
"I said I'm gettin' ya a rod, boy."
"Yes, th-thank you, sir." Kieran quickly mumbled out, nodding.
"That's better. When I offer you somethin', you take it. They'll be the only gifts you get in this world."
"Yes, sir."
"You know, you talk better than you used to."
"I-I do? It don't f-feel like it."
"You do. You don't notice it 'cause you're so quiet all the time. You need to talk some more; let your voice get some exercise."
"I got no one t-to talk to… b-besides Bran and you."
"Well, then talk to yourself."
"Like a-a crazy person?" he chuckled. Colm laughed too until he suddenly shut his mouth, and his gaze snapped to a spot-on Kieran's head. The long scrutinizing stare made Kieran internally cringe.
"What is that?" Colm asked firmly.
"What's w-what?" Kieran flinched at the uncomfortable sensation of a finger jabbing into the bruise on his neck.
"That."
"Oh, r-right," Kieran muttered, sheepishly rubbing his neck. "I uh fell."
"You fell?"
"O-Off of a… cliff," he instantly regretted his wording at the look of horror in Colm's eyes. "No, not like that, I-I promise. It's j-just that wh-when y-you asked Con-nan to help w-with the body, he got u-upset and s-so we uh got in-into a fight a-and-d—"
"He pushed you." Colm finished solemnly. Kieran nodded meekly. "And you didn't tell me because?" he could hear the flames of rage boiling underneath his words.
"… W-Well…" Kieran nervously toiled with the reins and chewed on his lips, thinking of an appropriate response that was taking too long to come to mind.
"Well, what, boy?!" Colm snapped fiercely like the crack of a whip, gloved hand raised with a twisted scowl, the old scar on his face straining.
"It di-didn't seem ser-serious." Kieran hurriedly sputtered, flinching away. Colm glared at him for a fleeting second. Then, he took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and slowly lowered his hand. He pulled Ruarc to a dead stop. Kieran did the same with Branwen, anxiously waiting for Colm's following words. When Colm opened his softened eyes, he released a heavy sigh, relaxing his angered expression to one more akin to sorrowful disappointment than blind rage.
"Kier," he started slowly, quietly. The echo of a gunshot breezed through the air catching both men's attention. One of Colm's hands went to his gun and the other to his binoculars in his saddlebag, looking back to the O'Driscoll camp far in the distance. "Shit." Colm cursed, stuffing his binoculars away. "The damn Van der Lindes found us sooner than I thought."
"Th-The Van d-der Lindes?" Kieran felt his throat clench. "What a-are w-we gon—"
"We're gonna split up. Can't let 'em see you with me." Colm answered his unfinished question. "Remember that cabin we passed close to the foot of the mountain?"
"Um, I'm n-not—"
"I marked it on your map. Some of the boys should be hiding out there. You'll take the south trail, and I'll take the west. We'll meet up there." He reached into his pocket. "You got your revolver?" Kieran nodded as Colm pulled out an extra case of ammo, shoving it into Kieran's hands.
"Don't you n-need—"
"Shoot if you have to but run if you can. Got it?" Kieran nodded again, shakily pocketing the ammo.
"You'll b-be th-there?"
"Of course I will, boy."
"But… i-if you a-aren't?"
"Then just go to Six Point Cabin when the sunrises. I'll be there eventually. Don't stop movin'. You know they won't be kind if they get their hands on you. Not after they see…" Colm paused, and Kieran didn't need to ask to know he was picturing the rotting corpse of the Callander brother locked away. "You'll be at the cabin, Kier. You promise me that."
"Yes, s-sir." Colm let a faint smile form as he patted Kieran on the shoulder.
"Good. Now get your ass movin'." With that, Colm jolted Ruarc into a sprint to the west and Kieran to the east. He could hear Ruarc's thundering hooves quieting in the distance and under the winds of the mountain. When the gunshots became memories and Branwen started to pant, he slowed her down but didn't stop her.
He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out the map, unraveling it and looking for— His heart sunk. There were no markings indicating where the cabin was, only messy scribbles. Like a child had gotten a hold of a pen and used the map as their drawing campus. However, he could read the six words hidden in the tangle of lines.
Happy travels, horse boy ~ Love Maeve
~ O ~
Kieran hated how naïve he could be at times. It had to be the one time he didn't question Maeve's kindness, that led him to be lost in the freezing mountain tops with the sun setting and the Van der Lindes on the prowl. Not wanting to get more lost than he was, he stuck to following a stream of water he had remembered passing on the way up. Not going on jobs was starting to bite him back, as being stuck in camp left him unable to familiarize himself with the surrounding area.
Kieran didn't want to light his lantern as he feared it would draw attention to himself, but he was more afraid that he would accidentally lead Branwen into a hole or a rock. So, with a strike of a match at the dying moments of dusk, he lit himself a lantern to be his guiding light in the consuming darkness. Kieran didn't think he'd be able to find the cabin, but he could hope to try and get as far down the mountain as possible. Though, he didn't know how long that could take or how much longer Branwen could keep going. She had enough water from the stream, but it was clear that fatigue was creeping as her gait was gradually slowing to a walk. But she still held her head high as she always did, not stopping.
"Sorry, girl," he apologized, rubbing her neck. "I sh-should've checked the map M-Maeve gave me. Now, we-we're lost, in the c-cold, with the Van der Li-indes…" he gave a heavy groan. "But… I hope she's o-ok-kay… I hope th-they a-all are… Y-You think Seamus is sti-ill alive? Donal? I mean, there's alw-ways gonna b-be…" he paused, taking a deep breath of the cold night air. "There's… always… gon-nn… gonna… be a S-Se… Seamus… or a Donal." He rubbed his bruised throat. "Huh, it is a little b-b—" a strong gust of wind cut him off, causing him to shiver and blow out the light in his lantern. "D-D-Damnit." He quickly tried to rekindle the flame, but it was as if the wind's vendetta against him continued to make each attempt fruitless.
However, he didn't need to relight the lantern as another light caught his eye. The warm light was far above in the distance. He shuddered in relief, guiding Branwen across the small river and to the light. As he got closer, he saw the light was coming from a cabin window. Actually, there were many small cabins in the area. He thought Colm said "a" cabin, but maybe he remembered wrong. He was getting a bit weary from traveling all day.
Edging closer to the camp, he didn't catch sight of any guards and assumed they may have been on break or switching out. He dismounted once he had gotten to a horse post, his legs a bit unsteady from sitting for so long. He tied Branwen beside a familiar mahogany bay Tennessee Walker, who was never given a proper name as he was tossed between so many different O'Driscolls. He gave him a greeting pat on the neck as he passed by, heading to the lit cabin to tell Colm he had arrived. He saw a guard on the other side of the camp but kept quiet so as not to startle him or anyone else who was probably asleep in the other cabins. Then, as always, he knocked on the door, waiting for an invitation to be let inside.
"You can just come in." The older voice of a man said from the inside, a voice he didn't remember hearing. The oldest members he knew of were Mondy and Colm himself. Then again, the gang gained new members nearly every day. Opening the cabin door, he stepped one foot inside and completely froze.
The quaint cabin had a complimenting fireplace that held a warm ember blaze. Sitting before the fire were two men, one he had just recognized: an older man with silver hair and a stern face. Silver Fingers, the nickname came to Kieran. He did recognize the other man. The light beauty mark on his cheek and squared jaw was a horrifying giveaway. Dutch van der Linde laid his rich brown eyes on Kieran for the briefest moment before he slammed the cabin door shut. He turned on his heel with a sudden burst of adrenalized fear and immediately slammed into someone, knocking them both to the ground. He didn't wait to see who it was, already knowing it was no one good, and scrambled to his feet.
"The hell?!" the man cursed in confusion. Kieran made a break for Branwen and was only a few paces away when he found himself back in the snow when whoever he had knocked over tackled him from behind. Panic set in like a sinking stone as the more muscular man fought to keep him pinned to the ground. His frantic hands made for the revolver on his hip.
"Arthur, what the hell—"
"It's a damn O'Driscoll, Dutch—" A deafening bang exploded in the night as Kieran pulled the trigger, the man letting him go with a surprised cry. He sprung to his feet the moment he could, the sound of cabin doors slamming open and frantic shouting almost hidden under his gunfire. He ripped off a troubled Branwen's reins from the post and threw himself onto her back, not wasting a second to kick her into a sprint.
"Get that goddamn, O'Driscoll!"
Kieran's heart pounded like a beating drum heavy in his chest, and the chilling winds stung his face like a whip as he raced Branwen as hard as she could. He didn't know where he was going, but that didn't matter. He just had to run, had to get away. He didn't dare to turn around when the pounding of thundering hooves came from behind, getting closer. Branwen was moving at a snail's pace compared to her top speed; her fatigued muscles from walking all day could only take her so far, but she pushed on, panting hard.
"There's the little weasel!" was all the warning he got before the shooting started. He ducked down with a yelped and blindly fired back but was met with an empty click. He quickly pulled out the extra ammo from his pocket, but his shaking hands could hardly get the shells out of their casing, let alone into the revolver. He jolted as a bullet whizzed past his face. Just like that, the ammo slipped from his grasp to fall to the snow below. "Shit!" he cursed.
The bullet that carved itself into his shoulder hit hard, but the ground hit harder as he was knocked off Branwen, who continued to run. He rolled off the trail and into the thorny bushes and freezing snow, dazed and bleeding. In the dark, he could feel the freezing snow beneath him and hear the approaching hooves. He crawled deeper into the foliage, keeping low to the ground and holding his breath. The horses came and went like a flash of lightning. He kept quiet and crawled to one of the many trees in the forest to sit up against. Slowly, he felt his shoulder and whimpered at the warm blood he felt through his gloves. He slapped his hand over his mouth as the second wave of horses came but didn't pass.
"Hey, there's blood over here!"
Chills raked his spine at the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow, inching ever closer.
"We know you're here, ya O'Driscoll bastard!"
Quiet as a whisper in a thunderstorm, Kieran pulled out his pocketknife and slowly got to his feet. With his back against the tree and knife clutched to his chest, he held his breath, listening to his thumping heart and the multiple pairs of feet as they trudged through the forest. He homed in on a pair that got too close for comfort, readying his knife. Then, with his heart in his throat, he struck out in the dark, hitting someone from the pained groan he heard, and he took his chance to run.
"He's over here!" The dark forest lit up in bright flashes of blinding light with a cacophony of gunshots. Above glimpses of moonlight trickled through the trees as he sprinted towards the nearest rock for cover. A burning pain bloomed in his lower leg, and he screamed in pain, falling hard to the ground.
"Stop dammit! We need him alive, you idiots!"
Kieran tried to force himself to his feet, but his injured leg wouldn't allow it. With no choice, he crawled as fast as he could to the rock, pulling himself through the bushes to hide behind it and sliding down the incline he didn't know existed. Unable to get grounded, he rolled down, landing hard on his injured shoulder, turning the dull ache into a throbbing agony. He groaned in pain, gritting his teeth and fighting to get back up. He could still run. He would run. That was until he looked up and saw the edge of the ledge he had landed on. He pulled his beaten and bleeding body to the edge looking down, and his heart sunk at the seemingly endless drop into darkness. A skid and thump announced the arrival of one of his pursuers.
"Nowhere to run, O'Driscoll," the threat was spat out like snake's venom. Kieran painfully turned around to see who had spoken. Without any obstructions, the moonlit illuminated the daunting figure of Blue Eyes Morgan, his icy blue eyes colder than frostbite. Kieran couldn't reply, not when he was slowly collapsing into the snow from exertion and blood loss, and the corners of his vision were darkening. He shut his eyes as his body finally gave out.
~ O ~
Kieran awoke in pain. It wasn't a new experience. Waking up with an aching back or sore cheek didn't bother him as much as it used to. He could still work all the same. However, with his mouth tasting of blood and his legs feeling like jelly, something felt off. He peeked open an eye, but his vision was too blurry to make anything out. He tried to move his arms to sit himself up, though he found that pressure around his wrists kept them behind his back.
"Mornin', O'Driscoll boy." a voice boomed above him, and he shot up like a spooked deer, kicking himself away from the voice though one of his legs burned with a frightening pain. His back slammed into a post, and he noticed the stinging throb in his shoulder. "Huh, he even scatters like a weasel." Now alert, he could hardly believe his eyes. Sitting before him on an old wooden chair was Dutch van der Linde with a lit cigar between his lips and a burning glare fuming in his rich brown eyes. Behind him was Silver Fingers, with a sour grimace on his face, and leaning against the stable wall was Blue Eyes Morgan, his hat pushed down low.
"Eyes on me, O'Driscoll," Van der Linde ordered curtly, and Kieran snapped his gaze back to the gang leader. "You listen, good," he mused, pulling the cigar from his mouth and letting it rest between his fingers as he puffed out smoke. With his fingerless gloves, the two scarred nubs on his right hand that used to be his pinky and ring fingers were unhidden for all to see. "You keep on listenin', and you'll be just fine." Kieran shuddered, but he couldn't tell if it was from the cold or Van der Linde's piercing glare.
"You gave us quite the scare, bargin' into our camp like ya did. What's your name, boy?" Kieran swallowed thickly, letting the question hang in the air. He didn't know if keeping silent was better than a lie or if he could even speak with how it felt like his heart was about to burst.
"Want me to make him talk, Dutch?" Blue Eyes spoke up, a stare rivaling his leader's burning through him.
"Hold on now, Arthur," Van der Linde held up a hand. "I'm giving this boy a chance to speak on his own. See, we've found your little camp before you could find ours. And there was a dreadful sight that's got my boys … all fired up. Now, I've kept them from ripping the teeth from your skull, like you O'Driscolls did to one of my own.
"But seeing as you're uncooperative, I might just let them have their way with you." His deep voice growled, sounding more like a beast than a man. "Though, I suppose I can give you a second chance," he leaned forwards, making Kieran shy away, "Should I give you another chance?" Kieran nodded, not wanting to incur the wrath of Van der Linde more than he already had. "What is your name?" It took him a moment to find his voice.
"Ki-Kieran…" his voice was hoarse and dry, burning his throat.
"Kieran what?"
"Kieran… Duffy." Van der Linde's eyes narrowed, slowly raking them over his face as he took a drag from his cigar.
"Kieran Duffy?" he repeated with a puff of smoke spewing from his mouth into Kieran's face. Kieran nodded, coughing. "Alright then, Mr. Duffy," Van der Linde sat back up, leaning back in his chair. "Why don't you tell me why that sly bastard Colm send you here?"
"He di-didn't se-end me… I-I thought tha-at this-s was a-a O'Dri-isc-coll camp."
"Did you now?" Van der Linde remarked, nearly amused. "So, I'm supposed to believe that an O'Driscoll just happened to wander into my camp thinking it was his own? Is that right?" Slowly, Kieran nodded his sore head. "You're more of a dumb son of a bitch than you look. Or is it that you think I'm some stupid old man? You think I'm stupid, boy?"
"N-No, sir."
"Well, you're sure treating me like I am. How about this? Since Colm wasn't at the camp and neither were you, you must have an inkling where your boss is heading." Kieran stopped his head from involuntarily nodding and bit his tongue. He stayed silent under Van der Linde's glare, who cracked a weary smirk.
"You playing the silent game now, O'Driscoll?" he rolled the cigar between his fingers. "You really want to do that?" Kieran kept his mouth shut, watching Van der Linde's smirk slowly fade. "Fine then, since you want to keep your mouth shut, I suppose you don't need feedin'. 'Cause I got a saying," He leaned forwards once again, the smell of cigars on his breath, "we shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feed 'em as need feeding." He jabbed him hard in the chest. "We're gonna find out what you need, O'Driscoll boy." With that, Van der Linde stood up and left with his followers.
Alone with his thoughts, Kieran's mind was gradually grasping the gravity of his situation. How he was separated from his gang and at the mercy of the Van der Lindes. The one thing he'd promised he wouldn't let happen. As sorrow and guilt toiled inside him like a maelstrom, all he could do was hang his head and shut his eyes, muttering the last few words he would in a long while.
"Sorry, pa."
~ O ~
He pulled Talulla to a stop at the top of the grassy hill, looking down at the crystal blue waters of the river below.
"There it is, lad," he announced to the boy sitting in front of him in the saddle. "The perfect fishing spot. It's a nice day for it too." He rode down the hill and dismounted before helping the boy off. "I've got a feelin' you're gonna be good at this, Kieran."
"But I've never even held a rod before, pappy," Kieran said, anxiously twiddling his fingers.
"Oh, you'll get the hang of it." He said, taking the fishing rods from Talulla's back and letting her graze as he and Kieran walked to the riverside. "Don't get too close to the water now, don't want you gettin' dragged out over the waterfall. Your ma would kill me. Here," he handed Kieran the smaller rod, "I've already got the line ready for you for your first time."
"What do we do first?" Kieran asked, toying with the reel.
"First," he opened up his satchel, pulling out a bait box. "We gotta put bait on the hook to get the fish to bite, like cheese or bread." He handed Kieran a piece of bread. "Careful not to poke yourself."
"Yes, pappy," He watched Kieran gently place the bread on the hook and pushed it down a little further. Then he put bread on his own hook.
"Now, here comes the fun bit. You gotta lean the rod back and throw it forwards, but don't let go of it, obviously. Like how you've seen me do."
"Like this?" Kieran did his best to copy one of his throws but only managed to toss the hook to the edge of the river.
"More like this." He demonstrated an accurate throw, sending the hook plopping into the middle of the river. Kieran readjusted his grip on the rod and threw again, managing to hit the water. "There ya go, boy! What'd I say? You're a natural."
"Thanks. Now what?"
"Now we wait."
"For how long?"
"Until we feel a tug. Then we do the reelin'. So, how's your day been?"
"Good. I've cleaned Lilah's saddle and helped mammy in the garden. Had to change my overalls because they got all dirty. Where did ya go this mornin'?"
"I went to the market to get some lamb for tonight's stew, the one my ma used to make for me."
"Grandmammy liked to cook?"
"Cook, sew, horse ridin', she liked to do it all. She would have wanted to share all the things she loved with you. But that's why I'm here, to teach you what she couldn't. Ain't doin' too bad, am I?"
"I wouldn't say so. What did Grandpappy love?"
"Da?" He paused, letting the song of chirping birds and whistling wind fill the silence. "He loved…"
"Colm, you there?!" a woman's voice echoed from behind the pair.
"Over here, Deirdre!" Colm called back, and atop the hill appeared a red-headed woman in a blue dress riding a palomino Morgan. She rode over to them, hopping off Delilah.
"Mammy, look! I'm fishin'." Kieran smiled proudly.
"Oh, my, look at you," Deirdre smiled, running a hand through his hair. "Have ya caught any fish, Kieran?"
"Not yet. Pappy says I gotta wait for a tug."
"You're welcome to wait with us if ya like?" Colm offered, hopeful. She looked at him, and he saw how her smile faded when it reached her eyes.
"Oh, I'd love to, but I've got work back home." She stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and lips to his ear as she whispered: "Kane's back." He looked at her with a gaze of denial.
"Already?" she nodded with a somber smile. He breathed a sigh through his nose, staring back at the water. "Let us finish fishin' here, and then we'll head back."
"Alright, but please don't stay out too long." Her warm lips on his cheek sweetened his sour mood. "Have fun, boys." She bent down and kissed Kieran on the top of his head before getting back on Delilah and riding up the hill.
"Is somethin' wrong?" Kieran asked. "You and mammy looked upset."
"Upset? No, not at all."
"You sure?"
"'Course. Everythin's fine, Kier." He reassured, patting the boy's head. "It'll be fine."