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Chapter 42
The first few days came with uncertainty for the new Morgan Community. Quite frankly, they had nowhere to go, and nothing else to plan. Cutting their losses from Dutch was something that no one wanted to do, but they'd depended on Arthur and Hosea to come up with something instead of planning to stand here for a long time. It was not an isolated place, and they'd received a few attacks from Murfree Brood. Hell, Arthur and Charles even set out and dealt with them, rescuing a few of their captives and bringing them back to civilization. It was by the fifth day that they were finally being left alone. The Murfrees seemed to have recognized that their area was up for shares and this group of members weren't going anywhere.
After that good old strapping, they were back to the lowest points of their lives. They had no Dutch to speak to them about plans, even giving speeches about hopeful possibilities. Pearson was able to put together something passable for them, but it was clear that they were running low.
A week and three days after they'd left the Van Der Linde gang, Hosea called Charles and Lenny in and asked Charles if he could take young Lenny out and train him how to improve his hunting skills. Thus, Charles was guiding him.
Under his whispered instructions, Lenny leveled his Bolt Action Rifle and dropped the deer onto the ground, taken down by a sole dart.
"Did you see that, Charles?! Did you?!" Lenny exclaimed eagerly, lowering his rifle and wrapping it around his chest.
"You learn quickly," Charles said, distant and reserved as always. Truth be told, Lenny's innocence was relieving. Charles had known a brief summary about the boy. He was eager, ambitious, but the boy had a touchy past on slavery.
But in some ways, Charles found himself dealing with more responsibility since they've left Dutch behind with his followers. He was no fool. He knew that Dutch wouldn't let all of this slide. Him drawing his guns on Arthur and John was telling. Doing so with Hosea, it just confirmed that the man wasn't who he'd thought he was.
Arthur thankfully had seen through him and the bullshit. With the likes of Micah Bell, it made for a dangerous combination.
"This is how you cut the meat," Charles said, carefully guiding his knife over the meat and giving it Lenny to grab instinctively.
"Do I have to carry this?" A groan almost came from Lenny at the last statement.
Charles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and looked at him pointedly. "You want to have something to eat, right?"
Lenny nodded once.
"Then yes."
"Okayyy," Lenny agreed at last without complaint, loading the meat up on Maggie. "Hey, you're coming back to camp?"
"Hosea and Arthur may have found something for me at Saint Denis," Charles voiced. "They told me to meet up with them."
"And why can't I?"
"You'll be too busy making sure that nothing happens when we're gone," Charles said seriously, catching the way the younger man's face darkened.
Lenny nodded once again and kicked his horse into action, allowing Charles to move over to Taima, briefly checking the map for the location that Arthur and Hosea told him to meet up, before doing the same, but in the opposite direction.
It only took what Charles guessed was a few hours as the sun rose even higher.
As Charles moved into the bustling streets of Saint Denis, he'd checked around to make sure avoiding the law enforcement that populated the streets. He navigated through the crowded thoroughfares, his eyes scanning the alleys and side streets.
He'd spotted the familiar figures of Arthur and Hosea tucked away in a narrow, shadowed lane. They were close together, deep in conversation, though quietly.
Charles hitched Taima and approached them, his boots echoing softly against the damp stones. Arthur looked up first, eyes softening slightly as he acknowledged Charles with a nod. Hosea glanced at him briefly but continued speaking as he looked back up at a nearby hotel.
"Glad you could make it, Charles," Hosea greeted, finally turning to face him. "We've got a plan, but we'll need your help to pull it off."
Charles nodded, obedient and prepared. "What's the con?"
Arthur leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "There's a wealthy gentleman in town, goes by the name of Theodore Harrington. He's a collector of rare artifacts and has a particular fondness for Native American relics. We've got a fake artifact that we're going to sell him for a hefty price."
Hosea chimed in, "I got it all figured out. We'll need to play our parts just right, but if we do, we'll walk away with a tidy sum."
Charles was already ready. "Just say what you need me to do."
The edges of Hosea's lips curved into a small smile. "Here's how it's going to go down. Arthur and I will approach Harrington, posing as dealers with a rare and valuable artifact. We'll spin a tale about its history and significance, getting his attention. Meanwhile, Charles, you'll be our eyes and ears, keeping watch from a distance. If anything goes wrong, you'll be our backup."
Charles listened. He didn't know much about cons as much as Hosea did, but he was no idiot. "Sounds straightforward enough. What's the signal if things go south?"
Hosea smiled, a small grin spreading through his lips. "If things go south, Arthur will tip his hat. That's your cue to step in. But I don't think it'll come to that. Harrington is a collector, and he'll be too eager to pass up the chance to own something so rare."
"It won't require shooting," Arthur felt the instinct to add in. "We don't want to kill anyone. We just want to keep this low."
With the plan prepared, the three men moved into position. Arthur and Hosea stepped out into the bustling street, becoming the perfect actors of respected dealers in seconds. Charles watched from the shadows, his eyes never leaving the trio as they approached Theodore Harrington, surrounded by other clearly wealthy men.
Harrington was a portly man with a well-groomed mustache, and clearly a self-centered type if Charles do say so himself. He was standing outside a fancy hotel, engaged in conversation with a few other well-dressed individuals and making a public show of how he had plenty of money.
Arthur and Hosea knew they had to deal with this carefully. They approached him with a polite nod, introducing themselves as dealers of rare artifacts. Charles stayed on the sidelines, prepared to keep on the lookout and acting like a normal commoner who didn't wish to interfere.
"Mr. Harrington," Hosea started. "We've heard about your passion for Native American relics, and we believe we have something that will interest you greatly."
Oh, that was interesting to the dark-skinned man even more.
Harrington's eyes light. "Oh, really? And what might that be?"
"Arthur, show him, please," Hosea beckoned, waving at him to come forward.
Arthur approached him, holding out a beautifully constructed, albeit fake, artifact. "This is a rare and ancient piece, said to have been passed down through generations of a long-lost tribe. It's believed to hold great spiritual significance."
Harrington's eyes widened as he looked at the artifact, his fingers tracing the intricate designs. "This is amazing!"
"Hu ah hu ah," Hosea said, gripping it. "It comes with a reasonable price, my friend."
"How much are you asking for it?"
Hosea chuckled and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. "Given its rarity and historical value, we're asking for a substantial sum. But for a collector like yourself, my friend, it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Charles didn't know how Hosea could sound so useless and convincing at the same time. But it was a good thing. He wasn't with the gang for long. The community was a new life. Arthur made it clear day one that they wouldn't do much shooting outside of hunting and self-defense. It made Sean MacGuire and Karen Jones groan, of course, but they were respecting Arthur's wishes. Besides, the Irish wasn't the same after killing Bill and his comedic demeanor have tuned down plenty.
Charles found that he didn't want to kill any more people either. He'd doubted that they would be able to gather their loses and walk into the sunset. But, it felt much better, knowing that they were doing something and establishing a community that would hopefully grow as they leave this life behind and one day won't have to do this bullshit anymore.
The greedy man nodded eagerly, green in the face, clearly intrigued. "I'll take it. Name your price."
"5,000," Hosea answered.
"5,000?" Harrington repeated, eyes widened.
"5,000," Hosea confirmed. "It was 10,000 where we got it. You could easily put it up for sale."
The collector didn't hesitate. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, handing it over to Arthur with a satisfied smile.
"Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen," Harrington said, clutching the artifact tightly.
Arthur and Hosea exchanged a small glance, a unnoticed inclination that their work was done. They bid Harrington a polite farewell and made their way back to the alley where Charles slowly followed them when the man was continuing to usher people forward, proudly holding his new artifact.
"Well, that went smoother than I expected," Arthur said, smiling widely now.
Unfortunately, Arthur spoke too soon. The artifact came apart in Harrington's hands, causing him to shout out. "Hey, this isn't a artifact! It's a fake! I want my money back!" He barked, throwing it down, red in the face, and turned to face the few men in suits. "Get them! Get them!"
"Shit!" Arthur cursed.
"Looks like you've spoke too soon!" Charles commented.
The three men began running in the streets, the men in suits following them, including Harrington. There was no time to get on their horses. They were too busy, running through the alleyways and pushing people outside. The commotion naturally drew the attention of law enforcement.
"He was such a delightful purchaser! We could have made more deals!" Hosea pretended to be hurt by being discovered.
"Sometimes, I'm thinking you've lost your mind, old man!" Arthur hissed, climbing frantically over the fence.
Hosea cackled this time. "Oh, are you kidding?! This was fun! We're doing this again!"
"Like hell we are," Arthur grumbled, almost tripping over a garbage can and only managing to stabilize himself as he leaned against the wall.
Harrington's men in suits were getting closer and closer, and the situation was quickly spiraling out of control. Charles, Arthur, and Hosea exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. They had to lose their pursuers and quickly!
"Split up!" Hosea called out, turning sharply to the left and fading into a narrow alley.
Arthur and Charles nodded, each taking a different path to confuse their chasers.
Arthur dashed down a bustling market street, going through stalls and startled shoppers. A few people had to dodge out of the way or be pushed by the bulky man, making the man feel bad, but couldn't distract them. Once, he knocked over a basket of apples and oranges, sending them rolling in all directions and resulting in several of Harrington's men to slip and collapse. Two managed to stand straighter, and moved through a few, but both eventually toppled over when others tried to lean on them.
Charles, in the meantime, jumped over a low fence and found himself in a courtyard combined with laundry lines. He grasped a sheet and roughly pulled it down, wrapping a few of the pursuing men in sheets of white and black and giving himself even more time as he'd moved away.
Hosea had led his pursuers into a dead-end alley. As they rounded the corner, he was waiting, perched atop a stack of crates. They gasped, but it was too late for them to react. He tipped over a barrel of fish guts, sending the men sliding and slipping in the slimy mess.
"You'll never catch us, you fools!" Hosea laughed, leaping down and practically dancing away.
Back in the market, Arthur had managed to lose most of the chasers, but one particularly ambitious man kept on his heels. Eventually, Arthur spotted a nearby tavern and ducked inside, coming outside a moment later with a tray of empty mugs.
The man turned around the left corner. Arthur tossed the tray at him, sending mugs flying in all directions, receiving a shout by a few people who had to jump aside. The man yelped and ducked, giving Arthur the opportunity to slip away.
Charles was climbing onto a balcony to escape the people who were chasing him, but now found himself cornered. He noticed that they devoted most of their attention to him.
"Get the negro and take him in!" One pompous windbag hissed.
With a quick glance around, he spotted a nearby awning, kicking the racist one of them lot in his lower abdomen for good measure, and leaped, catching the edge and throwing himself onto the roof just before they came out. Below, and from afar, his chasers stared up in bemusement, unsure of where the dark-skinned man had disappeared.
Charles waited until appropriate timing until he jumped down and slowly landed on the ground and went hiding into another nearby alleyway, trying to blend himself in with common folks, receiving a few odd looks from nearby civilians, but nothing much. He looked around frantically, barely resisting jumping and resisting put a bullet between the person's eyes when a hand was placed on his shoulder.
Charles gripped the collar of the person and prepared to deliver a punch to his eye to knock the bastard out when he saw the person he was about to harm.
"Hey, Charles," Arthur Morgan's gruff voice met him. "Can you let me go now? Please?"
"Sure thing. I managed to escape. How did you get out?"
Arthur smiled slightly, "I was able to trick the fools to run pass me. Think they are not chasing Hosea. Let's go find the useless man anyway."
With a whistle, Arthur and Charles signaled for Ryan and Taima, who came galloping down the street. Both Arthur and Charles moved over quickly, climbing gracefully on Taima's saddle, and rode off, leaving his pursuers in the dust.
Hosea out of the end of a long road, spotting Taima, Ryan, and the owner on top, did the same.
He whistled Silver Dollar, and mounted up, riding through the streets of Saint Denis.
A few of the men in blue piped up on seeing them after their mischief, but they were gone. It was nothing big that a small fee couldn't handled. It most certainly wouldn't result in swinging, but they would have to be careful.
The three men rode together at the outskirts of the city, coming across the bridge that was a landmark for their way home.
"That was fun!" Hosea laughed.
"You're saying?!" Arthur called out. "That's crazy!"
"Well, at least, it was successful!" Hosea countered. "Maybe going down the straight and narrow would help us more! Why don't you plan, Mr. Morgan?!"
"Don't think that it would cause any trouble?" Charles interrupted, reserved and unsure as always, despite the small smile across his lips.
"Maybe," Arthur shrugged. "I could send Mary-Beth to pay off if anything else. Blame the old coot here."
They continued moving until they were sure Saint Denis was behind them.
"Well, that was a close one," Hosea admitted, wiping a tear from his eye.
Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "I haven't had that much fun in ages. Reminds me of the old days with John and Du-" he stopped himself, not wanting to mention the gang's former leader. "Nevermind, we'll just have to be on the lookout.
The mood changed nevertheless, but Charles found that he was dissatisfied with it. It wasn't like he'd enjoyed leaving Dutch. None of them did. But it was something they were working through. The path that Micah was leading Dutch down didn't give off a good impression.
Many folks weren't happy with the way things were going already in Blackwater. It only kept happening when Arthur called Dutch out in Colter, and again with every scheme. The Valentine bank robbery didn't mean nothing when the main enforcer of the Van Der Linde gang weren't letting us with every scheme.
As soon as they made it back to cap, Hosea pay Silver Dollar one last time and grinned at the men who hitched their horses up to a nearby tree. "We make quite the team, don't we?"
"You're saying it," Arthur said. "Charles, thank for your help."
Charles nodded and moved past them, noticing Pearson cooking the meat that Lenny had brought back. It wasn't long before he'd finished it, and everyone was able to grab their food, including Karen who was at camp duty for now on the lookout, allowing Lenny to take her place as he'd finished his food fairly early on and was fully energized.
That night, they'd planned to sleep while keeping two lookouts.
Their lives were far from better. They would have to think about going somewhere so that they wouldn't have to live off thievery, but it didn't help that most of the money in Blackwater was lost. What little they have may not be enough to support them in the long run.
But as a community, they would be alright, Charles believed as he closed his eyes and settled in for a good night sleep, knowing that a better tomorrow would happen sooner or later.
Author's note: Not back fully as I have a writer's block on this story but a chapter I managed to whip up. I hope you all enjoy it.