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Chapter 35

Lenny was reading about mathematics. It had been difficult at first for even him, but when he started getting into the subject, the young outlaw couldn't deny the urge to get more proficient at it. He might even teach Arthur and the lads when he'd finally convinced them to get involved. After all, Sean MacGuire wasn't the only outlaw that had been avoiding him. The rest needed to get used to it because when they leave this life behind they have to know some things.

He felt movement beside him and spotted the form of Tilly. She wasn't much older than him, though sometimes he forgot that they were the same age.

"I need to talk ya brains."

Lenny frowned. "Sure, what is it, Til?"

"Not here." She caught sight of Bill lazing around, likely too drunk to even know what they were talking about.

Lenny complied with a nod, moving with her to the outside of camp. He really hoped Micah hadn't seen them, or Dutch. He didn't need rumors spreading.

Finding Javier — just his luck — standing in patrol not too far from them, Lenny was fortunate that the Mexican was focused on the trail ahead. He didn't want any problems with him either, especially since he and Tilly did have a connection, too, but his latest change of attitude was discernible.

Tilly waited, trying to find words for herself, "You really think Arthur could be right?"

"About what?"

"About it all. I see him questioning Dutch."

Lenny frowned. He wasn't the type to brood. That was Charles' job, but he might be doing a lot of that soon. Ain't no point in listening to Micah when he had someone who had been at his side for years.

"It's been a crazy time," Tilly continued before Lenny could answer. "But Dutch ain't led us wrong before. Things are getting better."

That did, at last, elicit a reaction. "Dutch ain't perfect, Tilly, there's always mistakes that humans will make."

Tilly stared at him. "Dutch is doing his best with what we've got."

Lenny shook his head. "His best?"

"Yes. His best." she enforced.

"Arthur and Hosea were both away on a con when he had us go to Blackwater. Hosea told him not to do that job, and he did it anyway. We lost the Callander brothers and Jenny because of that." Only now did he understand he had some contempt for Dutch and Micah. It was wrong. He felt bad about it. The former made a mistake, but he couldn't help it. Simply put, while Lenny didn't like Mac or Davey much, Jenny would have been alive if they never went to Blackwater.

"I'm... sorry, Lenny," Tilly said sincerely, placing her hand on his shoulder. "But you gotta think. Dutch has a plan."

Before Blackwater, those words may have been enough to get him to fall back into place. Lenny wasn't pleased with the idea of going to Blackwater in the first place. But he kept his doubts to himself. That was until Arthur started speaking out about Dutch, and those quiet doubts came back and increased.

At this point, it made Lenny wonder. Micah was a goddamn fool, but while Arthur's criticism was expected to anger Dutch since it was stressful times, the fact that he was listening more and more to the obvious racist and sexist asshole over Arthur was just absurd. How did Javier not see it? Or even Bill? It was just common sense.

"I don't like seeing any of them like this."

"No one does, Tilly, but do you think Arthur doesn't know him? He has more experience than all of us except John. He knows Dutch like the back of his hand."

Tilly opened her mouth, about to respond, but Lenny didn't let her.

"You believe what you want, Tilly, but Dutch's latest decisions have been a disaster. For the past six months, we have been getting in more danger. Micah ain't nothing but a hired killer. Arthur and Dutch are much more than that. I like to believe that their bond means Arthur would know more about the man who raised him."

Tilly looked him in the eyes, "You lost faith in him too?" She sighed, resigned. "What's wrong with all of you?"

"I'm still here, ain't I?" Lenny pointed out, becoming angry for a moment. "I just happen to agree with Arthur. Micah gets away with too much. He should have been kicked out. The man doesn't care about anyone but himself. He's made that clear. Dutch continues to provide excuses for him."

"And you're speaking as if Arthur can't be wrong? That he can't make mistakes either," Tilly said coldly. "I don't want him cut loose, but come on. Dutch is a busy man. All I'm seeing is you two and others unappreciative of his hard work."

Lenny couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Tilly, I'm aware that Arthur makes mistakes. We all do as humans. Arthur will probably be the first to tell you he can be wrong. You see how much he degrades himself. He calls himself ugly, he doesn't have a lot of confidence when it comes to women, he can be awkward at times, and such. We've both saw this before."

The dark-skinned woman looked at him, a smirk coming across his lips. "He annoys you too when he does that, doesn't he? John and I thought 'bout tying him up to a tree and telling him that you're handsome once."

The tension calmed for a moment. Lenny nodded with a smile. "Yes, Arthur doesn't have faith in himself. He's always been depressed. Even more so lately. You are like his sister, Tilly. He would do anything to protect you."

"I know," she nodded. "I'm worried 'bout Javier." She shot a look at the Mexican, who was still staring out from afar, his eyes piercing through anyone who came within his line of sight. "He hasn't been himself lately either."

"Javier has always been one of the most loyal in the gang," Lenny shrugged. "I feel like it would take a lot for him to call out Dutch, and he's taking it hard that folks are asking questions to the leader of us."

"You never know," she batted an eyebrow. "Maybe with that mindset, we can get away."

"Maybe. But one couldn't be too thorough, however."

That ended the discussion. Tilly moved away, while Lenny had a second to be surprised with how it had been this peaceful. Since a few weeks ago, when John "recommended" that they kill Arthur (that joke gave Lenny a heart attack), and the fact that Javier and Bill didn't argue, Lenny was also keeping an eye on all of them.

Folks often forget that he was as good a sharpshooter as Arthur, Micah, Javier, and Dutch because of his age. But Lenny vowed if anyone actually tried to kill Arthur, the dark-skinned man would put a bullet through them and get Arthur out. It could be the last thing he did, but he wouldn't go down until that person was with him.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

Yet, if it did, Lenny knew who he was loyal to.

"I needed that," Sean breathed out, satisfied as his head lay against the cot of the tent. Karen was always special enough to make sex intense. It made him feel complete at times and took his thoughts away from Dutch and everything going on.

The woman snuggled against his chest and nodded. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

They remained content with one another before the afterglow began to fade, and they went their separate ways.

By the time the Irish came to, Joe and Cleet; those two jerks, were playing a game of cards. They both looked up with an irritating smirk. Sean was getting more and more tempted to shoot them on sight.

He was loyal to Dutch, but what the hell had he been thinking about letting these two into the gang? They were 'bout as useful as Bill on his finest day. Meaning useless at all.

"Hey, my little Irish, why don't you share the lady?" Joe whistled, looking at Karen, who was now lifting up the shotgun from Javier to take over guard duties for a day.

"She's something," Cleet snickered.

Sean's fury rose, nevertheless. He didn't like to admit it, but the more sex they had, the more he cared 'bout Karen.

"Oh, fuck off, you inbred cunt. I'm sure you have enough from sucking off that master of yours. You ain't got the slightest clue how to approach a real lady." Sean dismissed.

"Hey," Micah approached, putting his hands at his side with a clear false platitude, "now, you got a be kinder to your new brothers, Sean."

"None of yous my brothers," Sean growled. Arthur, Lenny, even grouch over there," he motioned to Charles, sitting down in silence, "and John's my brothers."

"Oh, Sean," Micah's eyes gleamed, "what would Dutch think if he hears 'bout this?"

"You ain't got no right bringing your boys in here, Micah, not like this. You're overstepping, I tell ya. Dutch needs to make an example of you. Ya getting into his head!"

"A survivor I am nothing but of, Sean!" Micah boasted, intimating Sean. "Oh, no, you hear this, boys? The sweet little Irish telling me that I am brainwashing Dutch when I'm trying to treat folks the same unlike good old Arthur." Both Cleet and Joe laughed at once.

He ain't wanted anything more than to wipe that triumphant grin off Micah's face. The fucker deserved nothing less.

And so Sean lunged forward.

Micah kicked him in the stomach and cackled as Sean vaulted over and wrapped his hand around his stomach. "Oh, naughty, naughty, my little Irish, we don't want anyone else to get hurt, do we?" the bastard taunted from above.

"Fuck... you..." Sean breathed out, standing back up. He'd considered shooting him now, but he knew he couldn't. Micah got things done, and Dutch had considered him useful, and Sean was loyal to Dutch.

If Dutch had thought something was wrong with his presence, he would have said so already, right? Micah was regrettably one of the best shooters they had.

Still, Sean couldn't stop speaking spitefully, "Go to hell, you spineless piece of horseshit."

Trying his best to ignore their simultaneous laughter as he walked away from them, Sean was thankful Micah didn't have a strong kick.

Eventually, he heard the familiar sounds of gunshots and found Kieran practicing, yet again being torn away from Mary-Beth.

"Are you alright?" Kieran inquired.

"No, slave, don't worry about it."

"Slave? You ain't call me that since you've gotten to know me." Sean huffed. "Let me guess, Micah, Cleet, and Joe."

"Smart thinking,," Sean replied sharply. "You ain't got to talk so much, you know. I'm beginning to wonder why Arthur keeps ya around. Ain't nothing around."

Kieran scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I doubt Arthur would think that way."

"That old Englishman doesn't know of the virtue of the good Sean MacGuire."

"Well, let's see you shoot."

The argument was temporarily forgotten, and Sean decided to work on his shooting. He'd missed except a few times, and it made him grit his teeth. Damn gun was still against him.

Sean raised his revolver, eyes narrowing on the distant tree he'd chosen as his target. His hands were still shaking from the earlier encounter with Micah, that smug bastard. Even Cleet and Joe's laughter still echoed in his ears, but he pushed it all down. Kieran's presence next to him, doing much better in shooting, wasn't helping much either, though he tried to ignore the other man.

He squeezed the trigger, and the bullet missed the mark. Again. He cursed under his breath. Damn, he'd just performed so well.

'Should shoot Micah's dick riders,' Sean mused, and found himself smirking at the thought. They would be good training fire, and they were just as disliked by everyone except Dutch, who welcomed them into the gang.

"Maybe try not to think about Micah so much," Kieran suggested, his voice teasing.

"How do you know who I'm thinking about?"

"It seems to rattle you more than it should."

Sean glanced at him, narrowing his eyes. "And who asked you for your wisdom, Kieran?"

Kieran shrugged, unbothered by Sean's poisonous tone. "Just saying. You get worked up over them, and it's not going to do you any favors. I just ignore them. Why bother with 'em?"

"Because they're trouble, that's why. Micah's out for himself, and Dutch doesn't seem to be able to see it. And as for Cleet and Joe—well, you know them, they're fucking useless." Sean spat on the ground. "If I don't keep an eye on 'em, who will?"

Kieran shot again, his bullet hitting the target dead-on. "From what I've seen, Arthur is the lieutenant to Dutch. I'm sure if something's up, he can handle the situation."

Sean grunted in reply, turning back to his target and raising his rifle once more. He hated how Kieran had a point. He didn't want to admit it, but letting Micah get under his skin was becoming a bigger problem. Karen had already told him as much, urging him to stay level-headed. But it was difficult to let it go when he could feel Dutch slipping further under Micah's influence, day by day.

However, it wasn't his place to question Dutch. He had gotten them out of close scrapes in the past.

As he fired again, the shot finally hit near the center of the target. "There we go!" Sean exclaimed, grinning for the first time that day. He gave Kieran a playful nudge with his elbow. "See that, lad? I'm just getting warmed up. Beat that."

Kieran smirked. "Okay."

Quickly lining up his shots, he released the handle and allowed bullets to hit three trees at the same time, giving Sean a smirk as if to say "Take that".

Sean accepted the challenge, firing his revolver at the bottle on top of the broken tree. He grunted in frustration when he'd finally hit it... narrowly. By "narrowly," he meant that the glass shattered on the right side, leaving one side damaged.

Well, at least he hit something again...

Now he had to keep it that way...

One day, he would be the best shooter of them all.

"Feck!"

Kieran pushed him forward playfully. "Hmph, that would be something. Sean MacGuire, finally a good shooter. You could save someone's life one day with that."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, ya fake Irish," the Irish rolled his eyes, "you wait. Time is on my side."