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Chapter 30

Inside the tent belonging to Dutch, Hosea sat across from him, the two men huddled over a map spread across the table between them. The dim lantern light illuminated, casting shadows on their faces, emphasizing the lines of age and worry that had deepened over the past few months.

Hosea traced a finger along the map, his brow furrowed in thought as he stared up at his companion. "The O'Driscolls found us here," he stated, his voice low and firm. "Now, we have been compromised. The Heartlands aren't safe anymore."

Dutch leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he considered Hosea's words. Annoyance was in his eyes. "You think I haven't considered that, Hosea?" he asked, his tone clipped.

Hosea met Dutch's gaze, his own eyes filled with concern. "I'm not saying we leave tonight, Dutch, but we have to start thinking about where we're going next. The O'Driscolls may still be out there and isn't going to stop until we're dead, and you know it. Staying here just gives them the chance to strike again."

Dutch sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And where do you propose we go, Hosea? We're running out of places to hide, and the law might be breathing down our necks. We need to find somewhere safe, somewhere we can regroup and figure out our next move."

"There are options," Hosea said, pointing to different spots on the map. "But we need to be smart about it. We can't just go running off into the unknown."

"Micah suggested Dewberry Creek."

"Dewberry Creek, like Micah recommended, is too exposed. The terrain there is a nightmare, and it's too close to the roads. Anyone could stumble upon us. I also don't know if we should trust anything he suggests."

At the mention of that, Dutch's eyes sharpened. "Micah's got his faults, but he's a survivor. He's been pushing for Dewberry Creek because it's remote, away from prying eyes. Maybe we should consider it."

Hosea's expression soured, his resignation only holding down his disappointment. "Dutch, you're listening to Micah more and more these days. I know he's been helpful, but he's reckless. He's not thinking about the long term—he's thinking about what's convenient right now, about what's best for him. Dewberry Creek is a dead end, and you know it."

Dutch slammed his fist onto the table, making the lantern flicker. "You think I don't know how to survive, Hosea? You think I'm just blindly following whatever recommendation comes my way? I'm attempting to keep this gang together, to keep us alive! We need every option that someone has."

Hosea held his ground, his voice calm but firm. "I'm not questioning your leadership, Dutch. I'm questioning the path we're being led down. Micah's got his own agenda, and it's not in the best interest of the gang. I don't have to have proof. I just know it. We've got to stop following whims and start making decisions with our heads, not our hearts."

Dutch's jaw tightened, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and frustration. "And what about Arthur? He's been doubting me at every turn, questioning every choice I make. It's like he's lost faith in the cause, in everything we've built together. He's supposed to be my right hand, but all I get from him lately is resistance and rebellion. I can't keep going along like this with him."

Hosea sighed deeply, shoulders slumping. "Arthur hasn't lost faith, Dutch. He's concerned, like the rest of us. He sees what's happening to the gang, and he's trying to keep us from falling apart. I think it's good that he's adopting the voice of reason, the one who questions when things don't make sense. That's not a flaw—it's a strength."

Dutch leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "I don't need reason, Hosea. I need loyalty. I need people who believe in what we're doing, who won't hesitate to follow me wherever I lead. If Arthur keeps questioning me, it's going to spread doubts to other folks. I can't have that. We can't have that."

Hosea shook his head, his expression tinged with sadness. "You don't need blind loyalty, Dutch. You need people who will challenge you, who will make sure you're making the right decisions, who tells you what you need to hear instead of what you want to hear. Arthur's been with you for twenty years, and he's always stood by you. But he's not a mindless follower, and you shouldn't want him to be."

Dutch's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm trying to keep us alive, Hosea. You think I'm asking too much?"

"I think you're letting fear and paranoia drive you," Hosea retorted softly. "We've always been about freedom, about living life on our own terms. But lately, it feels like we're just running, reacting to every threat, instead of thinking things through, and running some more. If you keep pushing everyone to follow without question, we're going to end up in a place we can't come back from."

Dutch fell silent, his gaze drifting to the map on the table. Both felt this. There have been a crack in the foundation of their long partnership. Would it ever be fixed?

Hopefully...

But if not...

"You and Arthur have been making my life a lot more difficult lately."

"You need to listen to Arthur more often. He still is our son." Hosea said with a slight sigh. He held him with a firm stare. "I want you to do that when we move up. Ask him what he thinks. Maybe he's speaking out because he's feeling unwanted."

Dutch's eyes softened for a moment. "Arthur means everything to me. But he's our son. He have to respect me."

"I'm sure he does. But he's getting worried about you. We all are." Hosea replied.

After a long second, Dutch spoke again, his voice controlled.

"If not Dewberry Creek, then where? We can't stay here, that much is clear."

Hosea leaned forward, tapping a spot on the map. "Clemens Point. It's far enough from the Heartlands to give us some breathing room, but close enough to keep an eye on things. There's water, good cover, and it's away from the main roads. We could set up camp there, lay low for a while."

Dutch studied the map for a second longer. "Clemens Point…" he muttered, the name rolling off his tongue as if testing it. "It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing."

Hosea nodded, sensing the shift in Dutch's tone. "It's the best option we have right now, Dutch. We need to think about the long game, not just the next few days. If we move to Clemens Point, we'll have time to regather, to figure out our next steps without constantly looking over our shoulders."

Dutch sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the decision. "Fine. Clemens Point it is. But Hosea, we need to be ready to move at a moment's notice. This ain't over. The O'Driscolls, the law—they're all still out there, coming after us. We can't afford to let our guard down."

Hosea met Dutch's gaze, a flicker of contentment in his eyes. "We'll be ready, Dutch. But we need to start trusting each other again. That's the only way we're going to survive this."

Dutch nodded slowly, his expression softening. "You're right, Hosea. We've been through too much together to let things fall apart now. We'll go to Clemens Point, regroup, and then… we'll figure out where to go from there."

Hosea smiled faintly, the tension in the tent relaxing just a bit. "That's all I'm asking for, Dutch. We'll get through this. We always do."

Dutch stared down at the map one last time, then folded it up and tucked it away. "Clemens Point," he repeated, as if he was affirming the decision in his mind. "Let's hope it buys us the time we need."

The morning light cut through the trees, introducing a rise of the new day. Arthur stood near the hitching post, tightening the saddle on Ryan. Dutch had just given the word: they were to head out to Clemens Point, a new spot for the gang to relocate to. Arthur didn't know what to think of it, but he knew one thing for certain—staying here wasn't an option anymore. The O'Driscolls had seen to that.

Dutch barked orders. "Arthur, John, Sean, Javier, Charles—you folks check out Clemens Point. Make sure it's good for us to move the camp. We can't stay here, not with the way things are. I trust you'll see to it that everything's in order."

Arthur nodded, pulling himself into the saddle, his eyes catching John's across the way. John returned the look, a silent understanding passing between them. Sean and Charles were already mounted up, prepared to ride, while Javier swung into the saddle with his usual smooth grace.

"Be careful," Sadie said softly behind him. A slight smile was across her face. And Arthur pretended not to notice the grinning face of Sean and John. Even Javier's lips curled.

"I will be," Arthur nodded. Dutch and Hosea checked the surroundings to make sure that there ain't no O'Driscolls around. It ain't meant that none of them weren't paranoid.

As they rode out of camp, the quietness stretched between them, only the soft clop of hooves on the dirt trail preventing the silence from becoming deafening. Clemens Point was some ways off. Arthur allowed his mind to wander, bathing in the scenery, fighting to keep the unease gnawing at his insides at bay.

Sean.

Sean.

Sean.

"You heard the lady, Arthur. Keep careful, why don't ya?" Sean taunted. "Finna have to keep an eye on that one. She'll be something different."

"Shut up," Arthur replied in a forced grouchy tone.

"So, Clemens Point," John stated after a while, breaking the silence. "Never thought we'd be heading down there. Feels like we've been moving camp every other week."

"We have been," Arthur replied, his tone resolute. "Ain't safe nowhere, not anymore. O'Driscolls got their eyes on us, and the law ain't far behind."

Even though they were arguably in a better position than last time.

Just gotta prevent folks from getting themselves injured or killed.

Javier chuckled, though it held no actual humor. "Well, we'll make do. Dutch always finds a way. Clemens Point could be good for us. Get us away from all the mess in the Heartlands."

Arthur was barely able to prevent a grunt in response, not trusting himself to say much more. He didn't want to voice what was really on his thoughts, though, not out loud. Not when Dutch was trying so hard to keep them all together.

The trail narrowed as they persisted on, the trees growing denser around them. Arthur noticed Javier glimpsing his way, a stare in his eyes that made Arthur's skin crawl.

"What's wrong, Arthur," Javier stated controversially. Arthur almost thought he was concern. "You alright?"

Arthur kept his eyes on the trail ahead, his jaw tightening. "I'm fine, Javier. Just trying to keep us all from getting killed, that's all."

Javier smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You sure about that? Just seems like maybe you've been doubting things more than usual. Dutch notices it too. We all do. Can't have you second-guessing everything, Arthur. Not when we're all trying to stick together."

Arthur felt a pang in his chest. It wasn't the first time Javier had attempted to get under his skin, but this was different. It felt more personal, more deliberate. He didn't think Javier would go this crazy just yet. He'd thought he could save him, but with his active time around Micah, more and more he began resembling the bitter and antagonistic man that he turned into at Beaver Hollow.

Arthur swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat, keeping his voice steady. "I ain't doubting Dutch, Javier. I just want to make sure we're doing the right thing. For everyone."

Javier chuckled, as if dismissing the whole thing. "Of course, Arthur. We all want what's best. Just… know this. Dutch knows what he's doing. He always has."

Arthur nodded, knowing it had been far too late for that. He wished things were different, that he didn't have to keep questioning every step they took. But it was hard to shake the feeling of knowledge that they were headed for a fall, and every choice they made seemed to edge them closer to the cliff.

He probably ain't got tuberculosis (if he did the symptoms would come up sooner or later), but there came the nature of man. At least, they were getting away from the Pinkertons, but the gang may be doomed.

The group was occasionally broken by the sounds of the wilderness. Birds shrilled out from the trees, and the wind rustled through the leaves, but the unease among the group remained thick in the air. Arthur kept his concentration on the trail ahead.

Sean, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for most of the journey, suddenly piped up. Hell, Sean ain't ever been that quiet. Arthur almost forgot the Irish was there. "Javier, I've been meaning to ask ye something," he started.

Javier raised an eyebrow, glancing at Sean with intrigue. "What's on your mind, Sean?"

Sean leaned forward in his saddle, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Javier. "You've been spending a lot of time around that bastard Micah lately. What's that 'bout? I ain't been the only one who's noticed it."

Javier's face temporarily darkened. His expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he kept his attention straight ahead, avoiding Sean's gaze.

"Micah's loyal to Dutch," Javier said, defensive. He was always the most loyal to Dutch and it made sense. He copied Dutch in wearing nice clothes, his mannerisms, all of it. "He's done his fair share to keep this gang afloat. You might not like him, Sean, but he wants what's best for Dutch, same as the rest of us. You should know better than to question that."

Sean scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Loyal? Micah? That's rich, Javier. That fella's as loyal as a shark in the ocean. He's got his own agenda, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise. Just because he's been whispering sweet nothings in folks ears doesn't mean he's got the gang's best interests at heart."

Javier's eyes narrowed. "You don't know Micah like I do, friend. He's rough around the edges, sure, but he's proven himself time and again. Dutch trusts him, and so do I. You should, too."

Arthur's grip tightened on the reins, seeing Sean rolling his eyes. He kept his mouth shut, but Sean wasn't thrilled with the latest turn of events. Still, he understood that it was better to remain quiet in this argument.

Sean laughed bitterly, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Ye're blind if ye can't see what's going on, Javier. I trust Dutch but I don't trust that fucker. Finna be the death of us, I'll tell ya. He'll stab us all in the back if it means saving his own skin. Don't say I didn't warn ye."

Javier's eyes flashed with anger, but he kept his voice even, though the edge of tension was impossible to miss. "Sean, Micah's been nothing but loyal, and if you can't see that, then maybe you're the one who needs to consider about where your loyalties lie."

Silence rained again.

Arthur pressed on, keeping his thoughts to himself. It was good to know that Sean was doubting Micah, but that ain't meant he was doubting Dutch. In the other lifetime, Bill and Javier weren't close with Micah until Beaver Hollow. Now, due to the events of recently, that have sped up.

Who could say the same ain't going to happen with Sean? With Lenny? With Marston even? That they feel that they must side with Dutch, or else...

They rode in silence for a while longer. It wasn't until they arrived to Clemens Point that Arthur pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. The land around them opened up into a clearing by a large lake, the water calm and reflecting the clear sky above. It was peaceful, serene even, and Arthur couldn't help but feel a small smile of relief. Maybe this place would give them the reprieve they needed.

"This could work," Charles noted, breaking the silence as he surveyed the area. "Good cover, plenty of water, and far enough from the main roads that we shouldn't be disturbed."

John nodded in agreement. "Looks promising. Better than I expected, honestly."

Javier dismounted, his eyes observing the surroundings with an appraising look. "It'll do. Safe enough for us to lay low for a while."

Arthur slid off his horse, and registered in the familiar landslide. It was a good spot. Isolated, yet with enough resources to keep them going for a while.

"John, Javier," Arthur commanded, staring at them. "Head back and let Dutch know it's all clear. Tell him it's good for us to move the camp."

John nodded quickly, mounting up again. "Will do. We'll see you back at camp."

Javier gave Arthur a final look before he, too, mounted his horse. "Don't worry, Arthur. Things will get better as long as you stay loyal. You'll see."

Arthur didn't reply, just looked, as the two left. When they were out of sight, he turned back to find Sean lingering nearby, his horse tied to a tree. The Irishman wasn't glaring at him like he have grown used to from Dutch, Javier, and Bill, nor was he approachable like Lenny or Kieran. The Irish was clearly split.

"What's on your mind, Sean?" Arthur questioned, leaning against a nearby tree, the cool bark pressing into his back.

Sean scratched his head. "It's nothing, really." Arthur held his stare. "Just… thinking. 'Bout all this. 'Bout you, to be honest."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but kept his tone light. "What 'bout me?"

Sean sighed, leaning on his horse. "I know you've been having a hard time with all this shite lately. And I get it, I do. Blackwater was a cock-up of epic proportions, and Dutch… well, he's been under a lot of stress. But, Arthur, you've always been like a big brother to me. And I don't want to see you getting on Dutch's bad side. We're all in this together, y'know? And it ain't gonna help if you're pushing back too much."

Arthur felt the pang in his chest again, sharper this time. Sean wasn't wrong, but it didn't make things any simpler. "I know, Sean. I'm just trying to keep us all alive. It ain't 'bout doubting Dutch—it's 'bout making sure we don't walk into a trap we can't get out of."

Sean nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I get that, Arthur. I do. But maybe… maybe just ease up a bit. We need you, Dutch needs you, and the rest of the gang needs you too. Just… don't let this tear you apart, alright?"

The feeling of betrayal passed. Arthur realized that there was still hope for Sean. The Irish was one of the most loyal members of the gang, however, he didn't know what Arthur knew. He didn't know Dutch left John to die in a Federal Prison; Javier, Micah, and Dutch later lying about going back for him when he fell off a moving train, or...

This time, Sean would not be on the receiving end of a victim of a bullet. Arthur would make sure of that, and he would also make sure that Sean didn't just continue following Dutch into the madness as Javier did.

Right now, it occurred to him that Sean shown more concern to him in his current changed mood than he'd deserved.

Sure, a bit of it centered around Dutch, but what hadn't these days?

Arthur allowed a small smile, clapping Sean on the shoulder. "I'll be fine, Sean. Don't you worry 'bout me. We'll get through this, same as we always do."

Sean smiled back, slight sadness ripping across his eyebrows. "Aye, I suppose we will. But still, Arthur, just… be careful, alright? Don't wanna drag your corpse back."

Time to go through this part of the journey again...

'What fun,' Arthur thought bitterly.

He searched his memory and frowned. He had to go help that German...