Struggle, But Not Alone
Ch. 3
Two More, Plus One Raised from the Dead
Arthur Morgan:
I held my smile as long as that gun was held to my head, and that gun was starting to shake. My life flashed before my eyes, as well as my new one here. Albeit short. Facing death again didn't seem as bad as the first time.
"You died!"
My grin grew more,
"Did Micah tell you that?"
His barrel moved closer to my forehead. Javier's teeth were gritting and the anger shown was now liable enough to make him pull his trigger.
"No! Dutch told us when he tried to get us back!"
I turned to the worn old man who was just brought up. Dutch looked up for the first time since yesterday, spared only a glance at Javier before he looked back down at the ground.
"Why don't you ask the man himself?"
The Mexican outlaw looked at Dutch with awe and utter disgust. Similar to how I found him a day prior. The difference being that laughter soon followed.
"Don't make me laugh! This el hazmerreír?' (Joke). I can tell he's not the man we followed! Isn't that right Bill?"
Bill?
I looked at the other man, full grown beard, upturned brim on the side of his hat. Instinctively I placed the gunman with the name. Then at once it clicked.
Bill!
He was worn now, I could tell. Packed a few pounds too. Time had for sure gone by back home. In my favor, it seems like I was the odd man out.
Well, biding time, I acknowledged my one time brother.
"Bill. Last I had seen you, you sided with Micah."
The man took his aim off John as he walked towards me in anger, and his hand twitched as he held his gun towards my head. This was far from the Bill I knew. Not unlike what Dutch became.
"No! I sided with Dutch! A man I respected, a man I feared… That man ain't him… Nothing changes, I'm my own man!"
John came up to him from among the confused crowd that gathered to the scene unfolding, "And how well did that work out…"
Bill quickly turned around and pressed the gun to John's stomach, making Marston hold his hands up.
"That didn't count! I was betrayed!"
"So was I!"
This did nothing to calm the Mad American Outlaw as he backed up, gun still aimed at him.
"And that wasn't a fair match!"
"And you'd do the same?!"
He stopped in his tracks, looking down a moment before looking at John and holstering his gun,
"I am now. Walk back, John."
"Bill-."
"I said walk back! We're finishing this!"
John only looked at the man with a neutral expression before obeying him. Each of them relaxed their hands close to their side, ready for the draw.
All the while, the crowd had gathered too close. One or two could be liable to be hit in the crossfire
A couple of the guards watched on in confusion, and were confronted by the noble who was now standing tall.
"Are you gonna stop them?!"
"From what? We're just as confused as anyone else. They don't have any swords on them."
"But they have something on them, and they're holding up the line! Apprehend them!"
I turned to them along with Javier (He had his gun lowered, unsettled by the sight of Bill's raving.)
With a clearing of my throat I warned the Noble and his troop, "You won't want to do that. Unless you'd each want a hole in the head."
The Mexican quickly shouted out to Bill, "Calm down, Amigo! You're gonna get us in trouble."
"I've been waiting for this since I woke up… I ain't backing down!"
John quipped, "Don't have nothing to lose. Right, Bill?"
To be honest, I was also getting fidgety. Readying myself for what was about to come. And in that apprehension, I turned to Dutch who was standing next to Uncle. Like the lazy man, he was scared. Not for himself, but for what was happening before him. He looked around for anything, anyway to stop it.
I was about to turn away from him when Dutch stopped and stared at the table still occupied by the fat book keeper.
In a moment, I heard a hushed phrase I heard one too many times. Though this one brought a chill down my spine.
"I got a plan…"
So Dutch moved towards his prey and cleared his throat, having a different air around him as he walked. Different from the lunatic I ran into the night before.
"Excuse me, fine sir?!"
The man at the desk was previously watching everything unfold, and was started by the former gang leader. As were some who stood nearby.
"Uh-,Yes?"
"Forgive me now, seeing as my friends are currently distressed. It's a sad story, we are currently lost, I'm afraid. Lost in a foreign land to us."
"O-oh?"
Soon, the attention of the crowd crept back to the counter. To those who did not know him, in front they saw a lightly dressed man who looked like had seen better days. Though the words in how he spoke now dripped like honey.
To those who did know, they paused in what they were about to do and followed the crowd in their gaze.
I smiled,
Hook,
"You see, we're honest men. Looking to fill out our wages for the homes we made, the families we built. As the Book says, "If a man doesn't work, Neither shall he eat!"
One soldier nearby said quietly to another, "Does the Holy See really say that?"
I saw his friend shrug in response.
While Dutch continued speaking, the noble started walking slowly back to the desk. He didn't interrupt yet, as I assumed he was curious as the rest.
"To that I say, we are willing to work an honest wage! Tell me, why is the amount set at 3 pieces?"
"W-well, sir, it's because statistically the average skill range of people here is three kills per an individual. And that's being generously hopeful."
"So a Silver for a head!"
He gave a pause to look around at the masses, "Then my team will do the work of thirty men!"
Line.
The noble had enough when the amount was brought up, "Thirty men?And you want 90 silver? Between the six of you, I assume?"
The crowd broke into a small bit of laughter, only myself and the other former gang members weren't laughing around us. Or I thought till I saw Guts. He stood a ways off, but his arms were crossed. Looking.
Only Dutch laughed with them a little before clarifying, "No, I meant each. That would be pooled to 540 pieces of silver."
Silence followed that statement. And many parroted that amount in lower voices.
"500?"
"500 kills? Who do they think they are, Zodd?"
That last one was quickly elbowed, clearly a touchy subject.
"I'd like to correct that statement and say 'at least' 540. That's the amount we will work for. Each one of the six of us is the work of thirty men, if not more. Correct me if my math is wrong."
A snap of fingers came from the noble, and the fat man started working on an abacus (think I heard a banker call it that.)
After a few seconds, the man looked up, "That's correct."
The noble almost chuckled, "I see that at least you're an educated man. But surely you can see that your men are under equipped for that task."
Dutch didn't mock, he didn't deny, "Perhaps, maybe a demonstration is in order."
He turned to the crowd, "Anyone willing to sacrifice a helmet for us? We'd find some way to pay you back."
Finally, a small man did. Looked to be new to this outfit by the condition of his armor. In his hand was a metal cap that had one strap to it.
"Thank you young man, Not a scratch on it. As you all can plainly see! So now I shall now demonstrate our strength! Don't be alarmed. I will count them, six shots. "
He took a quick breath and tossed the helmet straight in the air. And as it reached the peak of its height, the old man drew his revolver and fired in quick succession.
The sound of the hand cannon caused many present to cover their ears. Except for the outlaws.
It ended when the helmet dropped to the ground. The shock wore off seconds later, and the noble acted while cradling the sides of his head, "Arrest this man! Oh, my ears!"
Regrettably, they had a similar problem .
"What was that sir?!"
In all of this, the rookie who had donated his helmet for the gun show rushed to retrieve the said cap. As he looked, he gasped and held it up for the others to see.
It was torn clean, making for one gaping hole. Leaving only the brim of the metal.
Dutch smiled as he held his gun aloft, "Perhaps I should spread my shots more in the future."
The medieval men looked at the once functional helmet, then at the smoking gun of Dutch. Back to the hat, and back to the gun. Then they looked to the two men who were previously about to perform the duel. Each one of them had a similar weapon, then it clicked for most of them. They were in the line of fire about to take place.
Panic ensued in most of the men and gave John and Bill a wide berth. One man cried out, "Mini Cannons?!"
Dutch chuckled, "So you are familiar? I was afraid the concept was foreign in these parts. So you can see all of us are well equipped for the fight ahead! The words I have spoken now hold weight!"
He then looked to the noble who was now just recovering, "Will you accept our assistance? What say you, kind Sir?"
"I'd say I should have all of you hanged!"
But his eyes said different as he looked at the helmet that once was. A twinkle in them told me he had made his choice,
"But I would be foolish to turn down such a power to aid me. Have your two men step down and sign up if you wish. If you perform as you say, you will be paid that amount, and more if you do better."
And so the noble sat in his special chair.
Sinker.
I smiled for a moment, then I looked at the Mexican next to me. He looked at me too. No words were spoken, but the message was clear. Javier wasn't going to shoot us… yet.
With a nod, both of us walked up to our friends who were processing what happened. I walked to John, Javier walked to Bill.
"Come on John."
"Yeah, but-."
"No buts, Dutch just got us a pay raise."
This shut him up, while Javier had a little more trouble with Bill. Eventually, the former said something to calm the weathered man down. With a huff, he slowly walked over to the table with the rest of us.
I wasn't a fool to just believe Bill would just let it go. I was ready for anything.
All six of us lined up, everyone else around us was still in shock by the display and didn't dare approach. The order was simple, Dutch was in front, I followed behind. Javier walked up next, neither John nor Bill dared to let the other stand behind them, and placed themselves a distance from each other while holding the same place in line. Uncle trudged behind them mumbling something.
"Now, we can make it official."
The noble nodded to the bookkeeper to resume his questions, "Name?"
"Dutch Van Der Linde."
This got the attention of everyone, much in a way like Guts. Believing that he was a noble and all of that. Though not one they had seen before, or see again probably.
The Keep looked up slowly, "Umm… Forgive me, but I'm afraid I don't know how to write that out."
Dutch held his hand up, "Nothing to apologize about, if you'll let me."
The noble sighed and gave him permission, Dutch wrote it out with the quill and ink provided and showed the man calmly before walking to the side.
"Ah, I see. Thank you. And the rest of you party?"
I made my walk forward, "Uh, Hi. Arthur Morgan."
The man's ears perked up at that name too, but he had no qualms about writing my name. Chatter only started to grow as I stepped back with Dutch, letting my old friend go next.
"Javier Escuella."
Again, the man on the books was nervous. Javier picked up on this too and said, "I can write it out myself too, if you'd like."
He accepted it right away, "Of course."
After a few scribbles, he walked off and stood next to Dutch and I. Couldn't help but gander at the sight of him casually walking up to me, though he was surprised too. Looking longer at him, I could tell Time was less than kind with him than the rest of us.
All the same, speculation grew higher from the armored men. I couldn't recall them all, each one more ridiculous than another. Only the boy, Guts, didn't talk with anyone. After that gun display, he looked like he was analyzing us more than when he had first met us.
"Next?"
'Next' was the pair of hot heads, not sparing the other a glance. For a moment, neither spoke. And finally John caved in, looking at the man at the desk, "John Marston."
Quickly, John walked off, leaving Bill to grit his teeth at him.
Seeing the anger on his face, the man was afraid to ask, "N-name?"
"Bill Williamson."
As the man wrote that down, a new whisper was heard,
"Are they all Nobles? What's going on?"
"I don't know, but his hat looks interesting."
Funny enough, he was the only one besides uncle that had his hat with him. It only made me miss my hat more…
Gotta ask John about it… Seeing if we make it through this.
And it seemed like I wasn't the only one who heard the last comment. Bill pulled his hat down by the brim to hide some of his face.
I smiled at just seeing him embarrassed by such a small compliment. He was always aloof from us, even if I considered him a friend at the time. And Micah didn't help him open up none.
I cringed at the brief thought of the Rat and came back to reality. It was Bill… nothing more.
"Ok, next?"
Last of all was the oldest of the bunch. He had taken his hat off, held by both of his hands.
"Uh… You can just put 'Uncle' down for me."
The crowd suddenly seemed to let out a sigh of relief.
"Finally."
"Yeah, after all those names."
"This guy must be their servant."
"Yeah, he's just an 'Old Fart.'"
Uncle was walking away till he heard that last part. Like the flip of a dime, his timid demeanor changed to that of a raging Bull. Quickly turned back to the desk with his hat now on his head.
"Scratch that! That's only for my friends to call me by. Real name is 'Red Harlow!'"
As soon as he said that, I rolled my eyes. Of all the stupid times, he's tempting the hand dealt us.
To my shock, Dutch came to his defense.
"Before you ask, yes. That's his name, it was his name to keep. He had to keep quiet about it where we're from, he's a legendary 'Knight' known for winning numerous duels. And many would like to get revenge on him."
That last part was pulled out from his ass. But Dutch of all people confirming the name made me stop to think.
No… No, it can't-.
In truth, I didn't know too much of the old man. Besides coming off as lazy, a griper, and even a coward at times.
Yet even he never gave us his name when we worked together. I had asked him before, but he always changed the question. And with us coming back from the dead, is it really that much of a stretch?
"I see, then forgive me Sir Harlow."
Red smiled giving a tip of his hat, "Think nothing of it."
And walked next to me, most of our party now looked at the aged man with an almost reverent stare. I got the courage to whisper to the man, "All those stories you told us about him, they were about you?"
"Arthur… I need to tell you something."
"Yeah…
"Forgive me."
"What?"
He started to shake a little at his legs.
"I just took Harlow's name in vain!"
…
"It just came out, you know? I wasn't thinking! They called me an Old Fart? Me!"
…
"Say somethin, Arthur!"
"Quiet you Old Fart."
Thankfully, none of the others heard this as the fat man wrote away in his log book. Still, the crowd chattered away at names they heard.
"All of them are nobles?"
"Why are they doing this kind of job?"
"What brought them here?"
That last one hit close to home, something we were still wondering. All of us kept the lid on it, thinking about it now gets us nowhere.
Even the actual noble was agitated by roll call.
"Can't say I have ever heard of such a thing. A band of nobles turning to mercenary work! If it wasn't for your weapons, I would be calling you liars. And given your dialects, you are foreign to these lands. Also, your education is above the average peasant.
"In truth, I should care less."
The mustache man gestured to his aid again to continue,
"What shall we call your Group?"
… I know what we're not going to call ourselves.
I was pretty sure all of us shared this line of thinking while waiting to hear what Dutch would say.
"... Hadn't really put any thought into it, but I believe the illustrious gentleman here already gave us a name. A Band of Nobles."
That stroked the ego of the man for a moment before the next question was asked, "Am I to assume you want a front line position?"
"Yes."
"Excellent, if you would-."
"Hold on!"
One of the mercenaries cried out, "What if they're lying about the kills?!"
"Yeah! Who's gonna keep track?!"
The noble sighed at the outburst, thinking for a moment before answering.
"That will be a responsibility up to you I suppose. If a company wants to oversee them in action they may."
No one was eager for that. Probably fearful of working with too many Wildcards. I'd probably feel the same in their position.
"I'll watch them."
The sound of Guts brought a little smile to my face. At least he had-… Well, guts.
The Noble looked around,
"Hmmm, anyone else?"
Still, it wasn't enough to cause a wave of volunteers.
In the end, it was just the dark haired boy.
Again, the official sank deeper into his throne in thought. Then sitting up in it with an answer, "I suppose I can send you with a company of my own, about 50 fresh from training. You understand why I can't sacrifice some of my more 'experienced' soldiers in this endeavor?"
Dirt bag…
Dutch slightly bowed,
"We accept."
"I'll send them over to you. After that, you can get acquainted with them for an hour or so before returning here. Sign up will be wrapped up by then."
"Of course, we'll be ready."
Van Der Linde gave a light bow again and motioned us to follow him behind a nearby building away from prying eyes.
With no real choice, we followed.
As soon as we were in the clear, Dutch turned to face us with a big grin on his face. A face as one risen from the grave.
This was the Dutch I knew. At least I wanted to believe.
The only way to know for sure was to ask.
"So Dutch, what's the plan?"
He simply shook his head, still smiling and laughing with his arms openwide,
"I don't know."
None of us joined him, or felt the same way…
Instead, all of us quickly remembered that this was for sure the same Dutch. All of us remembered the bone we had to pick with him. Most of all, we reminded ourselves of the situation we were thrown in now because of him.
While looking behind the crazy man for a moment, the answer to our current problem came to mind. A horse trough chock full of water.
I walk up and quickly grab the man by the collar of his shirt. It started him enough to wipe the smile on his face, bringing mine to bare.
"Gentlemen. What say we give this man a niiice bath."
End Chapter
A/N: I live, and I hadn't been letting my writing go to waste just yet...