Chapter 11

Colm O'Driscoll's death, predictably, spread around the camp.

It left a feeling of happiness and exhilaration in its wake.

Arthur Morgan, the perfect son to Dutch van der Linde, murdered him. It was a surprise to no one as he'd murdered rivals of Dutch before, but the knowledge that the O'Driscolls wouldn't be a problem most certainly did raise hopes and morales.

With the death of O'Driscoll, Dutch vowed to throw a party when they'd settled into a comfortable place. It was a small victory. O'Driscoll was someone he just couldn't regret killing.

Arthur didn't think 'bout Colm after that day. Not much. The man wasn't on his mind. He did want to make sure Kieran wouldn't be capture and tortured to death, eyes ripped out of his skull, head in his lifeless hands as he went back to camp.

As another day started, Arthur exited the cabin, only when his stomach began growling. He didn't have much to write in his journal today so he chose to leave that activity for later.

"Hey, Arthur, took you long enough!" a youthful shout grabbed Arthur's attention, beckoning him over.

"I was enjoying my sleep," Arthur laughed as he came next to the kid at the table, enjoying a small part of soup.

"Yeah, I bet you were, after that trek down the mountain. You might have gotten some snow on your very bones, Arthur Morgan!" The dark-skinned man laughed too.

"Assuming you didn't eat all of it just yet, is there some food left, Lenny?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, what do you take me for? Of course there's some, but you should cut back a bit. You're gaining some weight." Lenny teased.

"Am I..."

Arthur joined him. He very much missed the kid, would have done anything for him to be brought back to him. In some ways, he was like a little brother. Others, a nephew. And in more ways than one, a son. Sean's death saddened him to the extreme, taking a bit of optimism out of his life.

Lenny, however, ripped a bit of his soul out, something that would never be replaced. While Arthur viewed Sean as a little brother, Lenny helped nurtured the hole formed in his heart when Isaac died.

Eating, they exchanged in conversation throughout, 'till the thunderous sounds of doors opening and peeked out to see it was Dutch emerging from his own cabin, his eyes gleamed with opportunity and optimism.

Dutch moved over to the stables. "Gentlemen!" he bellowed loud enough for all to hear. When he guaranteed he had that attention of everyone in the camp, the leader of the Van Der Linde gang continued. "It's time we make something for ourselves."

Arthur stiffened. He knew what was coming next, had prepared for it even. It filled him with emotions 'cause this was when the robe was tied for the gang.

"Gentlemen, get your horses ready! We have a train to rob!"

He despised Cornwall. He was a greedy bastard who believed himself on top of the world and could get away from shit. But, robbing that train was what started this bullshit in the first place! Goddamn it! Dutch had to always carry his prideful nature, and everyone had to bite the bullet at the end, except for that rat bastard which preyed upon Dutch's opportunistic nature and took advantage for himself.

He spotted Hosea ahead, trying to stop Dutch from doing this suicidal move. Trying and failing. Arthur would too. "Why are we doing this?" the man was inquiring. "Weather is breaking, we could leave. I thought we were lying low."

"We need money, Hosea." Dutch said in exasperation, all the while prepping up his horse for what it was to come. "Everything that we had was back in Blackwater."

"But..." Hosea's lips curled as he tried to find ways to approach this with Dutch.

Arthur decided it was time to step in. "Hosea is right, Dutch," he interjected, moving up to join them. "It's too much of a risk. This is a terrible time to be robbing folks when the Pinkertons would be hot on our trail and Marston is still sleeping off being devoured his wolf!"

A glint passed through Dutch's eyes. Let it never be said that he had been exactly happy with being questioned by Arthur a few days ago. Too bad. "Haven't you already doubted me enough, Arthur?" Dutch snapped in impatience, his true colors revealed for a singular moment. He sighed and regained his composure. "You should know that this train robbery is full of money. With enough money, we can go to out wes-"

Arthur was done with that bullshit!

"It ain't 'bout going out west and the goddamn money no more. It's about survival." Arthur snapped, his frustration barely contained by a thin veil of control. This type of line of thinking, rather intentional or not, was the type that got so many of their brethren killed. The type that would have led to Milton almost killing Abigail. He didn't want Jack to become an outlaw, even though Dutch may choose differently!

"This train you want to rob…" he continued icily. "It belongs to a man named Leviticus Cornwall. That asshole owns this place, everything you set your eyes on. The mines, railroads, oil, and let me tell you, if we push our luck, he will pay the Pinkertons or some sort of other agency to come after us, and we'll have a bigger storm of heat than we already have!"

Desperation gripped his lungs with a powerful grasp. Come on, you stubborn son of a bitch! Listen! Stop valuing your fucking ego! Think 'bout everyone else! He wanted to say this, just voice his words, but his throat didn't obey. For some reason, the words tasted of hot ashes, on the tip of his tongue, but wouldn't leave his mouth.

"Well, good for him then." Dutch positioned himself on top of the Count and turned to face outward. "He can learn just who he'll be dealing with."

Arthur gritted his teeth. His words had fallen on deaf ears. "Goddamn it, Dutch, get it through your fucking head that this ain't the time to be robbing and killing! We have bigger problems on our hands 'cause of you!"

Now, Dutch's face darkened. "I don't answer myself to you, Arthur. I did what I believed was best. We needed money. The mess at Blackwater happened due to them getting over us. Get over it, son! It won't happen anymore. If you trust in me, in my plans, you will see results." His voice softened a degree, but still right with the sound of steel. "I cannot function the well-being of this gang with you two continuing to doubt me. We need money and supplies for resources."

Oh, how Arthur wanted to tackle that idiot off of that goddamn horse and slammed him against the stables over and over again 'till he'd listened to reason!

"I understand that. Don't you get how bad things are getting? Time and time again, we are being hunted."

"That's why we make a name for ourselves."

"Dutch!" Hosea and Arthur both snapped.

"Either follow along or not, the choice is yours, Arthur. If it bothers you so much, stay here. Maybe you'll have time to clear your head."

Dutch pulled on his reins and left them both behind in the storm. Others followed loyally, and Arthur stormed up to the stables and kicked so hard that the horses still present screeched.

A few of the women came out, terrified at the usually controlled Arthur Morgan just losing his temper like that. At this point, they didn't matter.

A hand came onto his shoulder. "Arthur..."

He looked at the visage of Hosea.

"Are you okay, son?"

"Yes," he responded, gruff, feeling a pain 'cause it wasn't Hosea's fault, and he thought it was. It was always Dutch, Dutch, Dutch. The man wanted them to follow every one of his plan, willing to go as far as sacrificing his supposed son and his woman. Dutch was the only one who kept the gang from running the way it did!

Dutch van der Linde served as a father figure at one point. An act among countless others-no doubt. But Dutch didn't value family as much as he'd valued loyalty, no matter how misplaced that simple concept could be.

It didn't matter if he'd killed Colm O'Driscoll and ended that feud. All that mattered was Arthur being a good boy until he couldn't, only for him to find a successor. He approached Ryan, remembering him dying, being shot by Pinkertons a few moments after Dutch'd turned him on, how much was at stake. That horse was more loyal to him than Dutch ever could be.

He swung on top of the horse and pulled on the reins. At this point in time, the horse wasn't fast. He didn't felt comfortable around him, but Arthur eased his concerns, rubbing the side of his neck. His Walker. His horse. He didn't care if he belonged to O'Driscolls beforehand. It never mattered for Arthur. Horses were loyal, and they had no titles.

As they rode through the snow, Arthur could feel his senses growing harsher. He'd wondered if Dutch would ever realize the consequences of his actions, or would he actually carry his beliefs until guns surrounded him, or knowing Dutch, the goddamn bastard would probably take his death into his own hands.

Always to be the one in control.

Never being wrong.

Must always be correct.

The ride soothed his anger just a bit, but the rage was still present. They were swimming in his mind. Sean, Hosea's, Lenny, Molly, Ms. Grimshaw, all of the others. All 'cause Dutch wanted to have the perfect plan, to demand loyalty and receive it from emotionless bunch who would follow behind him off of a bridge if they'd so choose in front of a moving train and die for their efforts.

Yet, if Arthur'd punched Dutch, broke his goddamn nose, it may rattle some sense in him. Then again, probably not. It might alienate even Lenny and Hosea from him. They were concerned 'bout him right now, believing it was the stress of everything, but he didn't want them to become anger.

He exhaled the smell of smoke and sniffed again, followed by the stench of death.

What the fuck?

Arthur rode up, expecting them to be on a cliff, waiting, planning. It would be just someone sent up there with Bill instead of Arthur. Probably Javier. He was as effective as Arthur. But...

Did he came late? Maybe...

But he just followed behind them a minute or so earlier, and it taken a few minutes last time. At most, they should be ready to be sent down.

Arthur was piqued by curiosity.

What?

What was this?

Where was the goddamn gang?!

Unlike last time, they weren't on the cliff, planning. The train was in front of them, but something was off about it. It didn't appear vibrant or full of life. It appeared to be blasted through.

The horses were down next to the train, along with the armed gunslingers.

"Arthur!" Lenny exclaimed, jumping up and down in enthusiasm.

Arthur didn't share it.

"What happened?" He looked down at the forms of the gun-riddled men before snapping his head up at the gang leader, horrified. Would Lenny go along with this blatant lack?! "Did you..."

"No, the train was robbed beforehand! Goddamn it!" It clearly took much for Dutch to resist kicking at the ground. "Must have been those damned O'Driscolls. Getting back at us after killing Colm or to make his death hurt."

"Without Colm, they must have decided to respect his final wishes," Arthur suggested, doing his best to contain his glee. The Pinkertons may be on them, but not as much. They might focus on those O'Driscolls instead, buying them chances to survive!

Ah damn it! The victory was short-lived. It would have been better if they had robbed the damn train if anything else. Not only would those men be dead on the ground, but the Van Der Linde gang would be going up to the Grizzlies after the Blackwater incident during a bad storm. Coincidentally, when the weather was getting better, a train that was going through near the Grizzles was robbed.

It was possible that both gangs would be blame, and Agent Milton would just decide that killing them all would resolve the problem. Colm O'Driscoll's death would be spread to the public, and the Pinkertons would definitely want their part in wiping out Outlaws, even ones that didn't commit any wrongdoing in the name of the law, at least not publicly.

"Oh boss," Micah said, approaching him. Arthur had to give him points for his manipulation tactics. He placed his greedy hands on Dutch's shoulders. A good servant to the eyes of the eager King. "We can rob somewhere else. We don't need the train. There would come another opportunity."

He looked at him for one moment before he nodded.

Dutch's eyes shone over the corpses for a few moments before he stormed up to the Count.

Suddenly, a gunshot went off in the air.

Arthur had the good nature to be startled. His heart beat into his chest, but he recovered quickly. He turned around to see the forms of O'Driscolls charging up. The O'Driscolls were a big gang, and they now spreaded around them. In a split moment of instinct and good reflexes, Micah pulled out his revolvers, set his aim on the targets, and fired, moving around swiftly.

Five O'Driscolls dropped onto the ground, the ones with the bigger guns. Not too dissimilar to after Sean's death when the Grays ambushed 'em. Arthur gripped his revolver and fired as well.

Three more fell to his shots, all hit in the head.

Their horses took off at the sounds of the chaos, Ryan by far the most terrified, leaving 'em to themselves. The O'Driscolls fortunately chose not to set their aims on them, instead deciding the smaller gang was important.

Arthur noticed Lenny was shooting as well. He caught three folks off their horses, and he couldn't be too certain if they were dead. Definitely wounded for the time being. One, he'd only shunned in the shoulder, but it unfortunately done little to no harm. His attention now on them, Arthur aimed his revolver at his direction and fired.

The second to led O'Driscoll of this pack were hit in the shoulder, and another in the neck. The man fell off of the horse. The O'Driscolls approached, abandoning their skittish horses.

"Kill them all!" Came the voice of one of the O'Driscolls, someone who he couldn't see. "Try to get Van Der Linde!"

Arthur crouched behind what little cover he could and fired.

No one fell. While initially caught off-guard, Arthur kept Lenny behind him safely, still firing at the ones swarming the cliff side.

They vaulted, gunshots of all types still vibrant behind them. Ironically, Arthur, Micah, Javier, and Bill were working together and were providing cover for the others.

One by one, they were off until Arthur was the final one left, and then he was gone as well, shells and gunshots flanking behind him. By now, smoke filled the air as they dashed through the trees, too tightly connected that forced the O'Driscolls to get off their horses and given chase on foot.

Damn it, he have altered things too soon, and now the gang was heading down a path most divergent from last time!