Opening Scene: Colter
By 1899 the age of outlaws and gunslingers was at an end.
America was becoming a land of laws...
Even the west had mostly been tamed.
A few gangs still roamed but they were being hunted down and destroyed.
Wind whooshed between the trees and mountains, the sound of snow crunching under horse hooves and the coaches' wheels. One man stepped off a moving coach into the deep snow, the wind freezing his body. He clutched his arms to his chest as he walked to the front of the coaches.
"Abigail says he's dying, Dutch. We'll have to stop someplace!" yelled Reverend over the harsh and loud wind. Dutch turned his head as he saw Swanson walking beside his moving coach.
Dutch didn't stop the horses that pulled the coach he was sitting on and that he drove. "Okay, Arthur's out looking. I sent him ahead." Swanson nodded at Dutch's explanation and went back to the rear of Dutch's coach. Dutch looked over his shoulder as he watched Swanson step onto the coach. Hosea, who sat beside him and was covered in snow just like Dutch, started talking. "If we don't stop soon, we'll all be dying. This weather, it's May... I'm just hoping the law got as lost as we did."
Hosea pointed ahead just as Dutch and Hosea saw a figure in the distance. "There! Arthur!" He pulled on the reins and the horses stopped. "Any luck?" Arthur, who had his face hidden behind his hat, looked up, one hand holding onto his hat. "I found a place where we can get some shelter. Let Davey rest while he.. you know." He yanked on his horse's reins and turned the horse as he continued speaking. "An old mining town. Abandoned, it ain't far! Come on!"
Come on!
Chapter 1: Colter
The wooden door creaked as Hosea pushed it open, his lantern casting flickering shadows across the room. With his gun gripped firmly in his right hand and the lantern held aloft in his left, he stepped cautiously inside, his eyes scanning every corner for hidden enemies. Satisfied that the room was clear, he holstered his gun on his left hip and adjusted his grip on the lantern.
"Bring him in here!" he barked, gesturing with his free hand for the others to follow.
As they entered, Hosea moved further into the room, the floorboards groaning softly under his weight. He approached an old-fashioned wooden desk nestled in the middle of the room and pushed it aside with a grunt of effort, making room for the rest of the group.
As Abigail stepped inside, the cool air of the room instantly chilling her gloved hands. She rubbed them together briskly for warmth, glancing over her shoulder as Bill and Arthur followed closely behind. Between them, they carefully carried a makeshift stretcher fashioned from rough-hewn wood, upon which lay the unconscious form of Davey Callander.
Dutch gestured for the rest of his gang to step inside, while Arthur and Bill placed the wooden stretcher on a teacher's desk at the end of the room. The thump of hardwood against hardwood echoed, accompanied by Arthur's grunt as he set it down. He clapped his hands together to shake off the snow.
Abigail walked toward the unconscious Davey. "Miss Gaskill, get that fire lit quickly." Miss Grimshaw ordered. The door closed behind them as Miss Grimshaw continued issuing instructions to the women. "Miss Jones, bring in whatever blankets we have. Mr. Pearson, see what we've got in terms of food." Mr. Pearson nodded at Grimshaw, and the others dispersed to fulfill their tasks.
Abigail waited for the silence to settle before speaking in a somber tone. "Davey's dead." she said, her gaze dropping in sadness. Dutch, sensing the need to console not just Abigail but everyone present, began addressing them all. "There was... nothing more you could have done." he assured, his words directed not only at Abigail but also silently acknowledging the efforts of the other women who had tried to save Davey from death.
"What are we going to do? We need supplies." Hosea interjected, attempting to steer the conversation away from Davey's death, while Bill reverently placed two thick cents on top of Davey's closed eyes. Dutch responded to Hosea's question, as it was directed at him being the leader of the Dutch Van Der Linde gang.
"Well, first of all you're going to stay here." he ordered Hosea, who shifted his gaze from Davey to Dutch standing beside him, continuing to address him. "And you're going to get yourself warm. Now, I've sent John and Micah scouting out ahead."
He then pointed at Arthur. "Arthur and I, we're gonna ride out and see if we can find one of them."
"In this?" he grumbled, waving his hand towards the door. Dutch glanced at the door, understanding that Arthur meant the ugly weather.
He looked back at Arthur and gave a firm nod. "Just for a short bit... I don't see what other choices we have." With that, he turned his body towards his gang.
"Listen... Listen to me all of you, for a moment. Now, we've had.. well, a bad couple of days.""I loved Davey... Jenny.. Sean, Mac, they might be okay, we don't know. But we lost some folks. Now, if I could throw myself in the ground in their stead, I'd do it gladly." Arthur glanced at Dutch with a solemn expression and gave a firm nod in agreement with Dutch. "But we're gonna ride out and find some food. Everybody, we're safe now. There ain't nobody following us through a storm like this one. And by the time they get here, well, we're gonna be-we're gonna be long gone."
Again, silence fell before Dutch spoke again. "We've been through worse than this before. Mr. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp. We may be here for a few days. Now, all of you- all of you! Get yourselves warm. Stay strong! Stay with me! We ain't done yet."
With that, he turned around and took his lantern, urging Arthur to come with him. "Come on, Arthur." Arthur glanced at Dutch and gave Hosea a pat on the back before following Dutch outside.
༺༻
"Well, we ain't run into them yet. So they both must have headed down the hill." said Dutch, as Arthur closed the door against the harsh snowy wind.
"Sure. Hey," Arthur stopped Dutch from walking any further to question him. Dutch turned to face him, holding the lantern in the air with his right hand. "I ain't had time to ask... What really went down back there on that boat?" Arthur and Dutch held eye contact as the silence stretched for a few seconds between them.
"We missed you, that's what happened. Come on." With that, Dutch ended the question immediately and ushered Arthur to follow him into the thick snow.
"Hey, you need horses?" asked one of the members, who held two horses. He had one injured hand, yet held the reins in that hand anyway.
"Oh yeah. Hey Mr. Smith, get yourself indoors. You need to rest that hand." Charles gave the reins to Arthur and Dutch, and both climbed onto the horses.
"I'll live." replied Charles to Dutch, yet Dutch was having none of it."Get indoors, son!" He urged the horse to start walking, and Arthur followed him. Dutch looked back at Charles to say the last word. "We need you strong."
"Okay." was all that Charles said back as the two men on the horses left in the snowstorm to find the remaining gang members.
They went a little bit more forward before turning left, it was a path that led deeper into the forest. "Alright. let's head out." said Dutch and they walked on the path, now past the homestead they were now staying in.
"Ain't sure what we're gonna find out here, Dutch." Arthur was skeptical; the weather was bad. It had been snowing nonstop for at least two days. If they didn't hurry and leave this place soon for the warmer side, they would freeze to death here. It wasn't a good place to hunt; animals would seek shelter away from the storm.
"We have to try. Stay close, we'll do our best to stick to the trail." replied Dutch stubbornly.
"This goddamn weather." grumbled Arthur, annoyed as a sudden wave of harsh wind blew through them. He ducked his head, letting his hat cover his eyes. One of the horses neighed, probably in protest. It was way too cold for these horses.
"Been two days or more like this now. Oh, it has to blow over soon." said Dutch.
When they emerged from the cover of the trees, a full gush of wind blew directly into their faces. The landscape opened up to a small lake, turning the area into an exposed, windswept expanse.
"Careful over this bridge here." warned Dutch as they approached a small, flat bridge. It had no fences and was fully covered with snow, blending seamlessly into the surrounding whiteness. The wind whipped across the lake, hitting them from the side as they crossed. Arthur felt the relentless force pushing them to the right, making the already treacherous crossing even more perilous.
Once they made it across, they continued along the trail, urging their horses into a canter. "Can't believe we lost Davey too," said Arthur, his voice heavy with grief as he urged his horse to keep pace with Dutch.
"He's the last one, Arthur. No more. We need to get these people warm and fed." Arthur looked at Dutch's back, squinting due to the snow getting in his eyes. The blizzard was relentless, and each gust of wind felt like a sharp knife cutting through his face.
"Least we don't need to worry about Pinkertons tailing us in this," said Arthur instead. Dutch groaned at the mention of the Pinkertons.
"A couple more days, we'll be on the other side. You need to help me pick the others back up. You're the only one I can rely on to stay strong right now." Dutch's voice was firm, but there was a hint of desperation. He needed Arthur more than ever.
Arthur was now trotting next to Dutch, holding a lantern that cast a faint, flickering light in the swirling snow. The path ahead was barely visible, but then he caught a faint movement in the snow. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the shape.
"Hey, I think I see something up the path." warned Arthur. Dutch stopped his horse, and Arthur did the same. Dutch held his lantern forward, its light struggling to penetrate the thick snowfall.
"You up ahead, who's there?" he called out. They both tensed, hands inching towards their guns. But when they saw the outline of a familiar figure, they both relaxed a little.
"Micah." said Dutch, his voice carrying over the howling wind.
"Gentlemen." Micah said, looking at both Dutch and Arthur. His clothes and horse were covered in snow, blending into the white landscape. His eyes had a glint of relief, though his face was weary from battling the storm.
"Found anything?" asked Dutch as Micah approached with his horse, flakes of snow falling from his coat.
"I think so. Found a little homestead down thataway." Micah replied, his voice slightly muffled by the wind.
Dutch nodded at Micah and glanced briefly at Arthur before focusing back on Micah. "Okay. Anyone home?""Sure. Place is blazing with lights and noise. Sounded like a party." Micah started, but Dutch cut him off abruptly.
"Let's go see." urged Dutch, his urgency cutting through the howling wind. Micah didn't object.
"Follow me." Micah said decisively, turning the reins to guide his horse back the way he came. The horses trudged through the deepening snow, their hooves crunching softly as they followed Micah toward the distant homestead.
"How's Davey doing?" asked Micah as Dutch and Arthur followed behind him, forming a line against the relentless wind. Dutch was behind Micah, and Arthur trailed behind Dutch, the snow swirling around them.
"Ah, he didn't make it. Nor did little Jenny." explained Dutch, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.
"That's too bad. Davey was a real fighter. Both of them were, or... was." Micah replied as they continued their ascent up the mountain.
"Yeah."
"And Mac and Sean?" The three bolted into a canter up the mountain. "We don't know." Dutch replied.
"Quite a business."
"I'm glad you're alright, Micah."
"Always."
Arthur interrupted them and asked Dutch an important question: "Ask him if he's seen John."
"Hey, have you seen John, Micah?"
"Didn't see much of anything once this storm came in."
"He hasn't seen him." yelled Dutch back to Arthur, who sighed deeply. "He'll be fine. Things always turn out right for that boy." Although Arthur said it to reassure Dutch and Micah, he felt like the words were also meant for himself. What if something terrible did happen? He really hoped not.
"I hope," Dutch's words shook Arthur out of his thoughts. "Mac and Sean are still out somewhere too." Dutch continued, his voice heavy with concern. Then he addressed Arthur suddenly. "Hey, Arthur, let me take the rear. You move up."
Arthur nodded and guided his horse forward, positioning himself ahead of Dutch. He cantered closer to Micah until he was riding beside him. Arthur glanced at Micah, his skepticism clear in his eyes. "You sure about this, Micah?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of doubt.
Arthur never really trusted Micah. Something about him always set Arthur on edge, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe it was Micah's attitude or the way he carried himself, but Arthur felt an instinctual unease around him.
"Mr. Morgan, I never thought I would be so pleased to see your face. Been kind of... lonely out here. Where's everyone else?" Micah changed the subject, a habit that really bothered Arthur. Why couldn't he just answer the question? Despite his frustration, Arthur answered Micah's question about the others' whereabouts.
"Old mining camp, back up the hill." Arthur responded, his voice steady despite the biting cold. They were cantering downwards now, and he noticed his horse's head lowering in fatigue. He couldn't stop now, though; he had to push this poor horse a little further. If they arrived at the homestead, he could give the horse a little rest and maybe a treat too, if he had any.
"Huddled around a fire waiting for daddy to put food on the table." mocked Micah. Arthur glared at him for a second, the irritation clear in his eyes, before Micah addressed everyone. "Okay, let's keep it down now, gentlemen. It's just up ahead."
With that, they walked to the edge of the mountain and saw, indeed, a small homestead-a farm, of sorts. "Snuff and stash those lanterns, boys. Best you two lie low on this." said Dutch. Arthur complied, extinguishing his lantern and attaching it to his horse's saddle.
The glow of the homestead's lights flickered through the snow. The trio prepared themselves. "Okay... let's head down there," Dutch said. Arthur turned his horse to the right, following Dutch and Micah as they navigated a path that led downwards onto the property.
When they moved further onto the property, they saw a hitching post. "Let's hitch up here." said Micah. The three went closer to the hitching post, securing their horses. Dutch spoke to the two, his voice low and firm. "Let me handle this, we don't want to spook these fine people."
Dutch walked in front, with Arthur following closely behind and Micah bringing up the rear. "Sounds like quite the party," commented Micah in an amused tone.
"You two, get yourselves out of sight. One lonely man is a lot less intimidating than three nasty-looking degenerates," Dutch instructed. "Micah, hide behind that wagon. Arthur, you take that old shed on the left. And stay low, both of you."
Both men complied. Arthur moved quickly to the old shed, crouching down to hide himself behind its low walls. The shed offered little cover, but he made do, peering above the low wall to keep an eye on Dutch. Micah slipped behind the wagon, his form barely visible in the swirling snow. The cold bit into Arthur's skin, but he stayed focused, ready to act if needed.
Dutch walked towards the front door yet stayed a meter away from the door, making sure for the people inside the house to come more outside instead staying inside hidden from Micah and Arthur.
"Hello?" yelled Dutch.
They heard a voice from inside the house, a manly voice. "Shut up, Billy. Shh, shh, shh!"
"Excuse me? Hello?" Dutch called out again.
Arthur kept his ears tuned to the sounds from the shed, trying to catch any clues about what was happening inside the house. Arthur gripped his gun a little tighter, ready to spring into action if needed.
Just then, the door opened and Arthur saw the glow of a lantern. Due to the dark hour and the storm, he couldn't make out the person's features from this distance."Oh, well, hello friend." greeted Dutch.
The person, however, didn't seem welcoming. To Arthur, their tone sounded quite irritated. "What you want?" the person demanded.
Yet Dutch paid no mind to it. "I am very sorry to disturb you. Uh, my friends and I, well we got into some... trouble up the way. Lost in the storm."
The person at the door walked down the small stairs, moving in front of Dutch but keeping a safe distance. Arthur noticed another man coming out to stand next to the first one, with a third man remaining by the door.
"Ah, gentlemen." greeted Dutch once again, trying to come off as friendly and non-threatening as possible. Arthur watched closely from his hiding spot, his senses on high alert as he watched the three men.
"We can't help you, Mister." said probably the first person.
Just then, Arthur noticed heavy breathing and a soft thump coming from Micah. He tried to keep his focus on Dutch interacting with the others, but Micah was distracting him as he whispered urgently. "Arthur..."
Arthur turned his focus slightly toward Micah, who was softly stammering from behind the wagon. The unease in Micah's voice made Arthur even more anxious, splitting his attention between Dutch's conversation and whatever Micah had noticed.
"Arthur, we got a problem," Micah whispered urgently. Arthur looked over, confused, as Micah pulled a blanket upwards from the wagon. He couldn't see exactly what Micah saw, but the shock in Micah's tone was clear.
"There's a corpse right here." Micah whispered urgently. Arthur's eyes widened as he glanced over at Dutch, who was now laughing with the men."Arthur... there's a body in the wagon." Micah repeated, his voice tense.
"Yeah, I hear you.." Arthur responded, his voice low and steady. "Just keep your eyes on Dutch."Arthur heard Dutch say something else and he focused intently on the conversation happening. "Now I, I just need, some, cans of food, or something. Gentlemen... please."
Yet the men were resolute. "I think you should go now, buddy." said one of the men. Arthur silently drew his gun from its holster, noting another man shifting into a hiding place-definitely suspicious.
"Now, friend, I ain't asking for much." Dutch persisted, his tone strained with desperation.
Without hesitation, Arthur took aim at the man's head. "Please, I am... kinda desperate."
Bang!
Arthur's shot rang out, hitting one of the men squarely in the head. It clearly wasn't what Dutch had expected; he flinched, and the other men immediately went into defense mode. Dutch hurriedly took cover, and Micah joined in, firing at the men who were hidden all around.
Arthur spotted one of them on the second story, foolishly shooting from a fully exposed window. He took advantage of the opportunity and aimed carefully, shooting the man directly in the head. "Who the hell stands wide open in a damn window? Stupid as all hell." Arthur muttered to himself.
They killed a few more until Arthur heard Micah yell at him, "We've got a runner! You see him, Arthur?"Arthur didn't reply. Instead, he jumped over the low wall and turned left, where he saw a person running across a medium-length field, heading beyond the property. Arthur's instincts kicked in. He raised his gun, took careful aim despite the distance, and fired. His shot was precise, hitting the runner squarely in the head before Arthur even reached the fence.
Arthur paused for a moment, scanning the surroundings to ensure there were no more threats. The cold air was filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, and the snow around them was dotted with dark patches where the skirmish had taken place. He turned back to check on Dutch and Micah, ready to regroup and assess the situation.
When Arthur turned around and got closer to the house, he heard Dutch yell at him, "Arthur, I said I'd handle this!"Arthur rolled his eyes, knowing Dutch couldn't see it in the distance and darkness. "Didn't seem to be going too well." he replied, moving closer to Dutch, who had his back to a shed, a gun in his left hand.
"Goddamn, O'Driscoll's boys here?" groaned Dutch.
Arthur now stood next to Dutch, taking some deep breaths. Running in the snow wasn't easy, especially when it reached his knees. He could feel the adrenaline wearing off, leaving a dull ache in his legs and a burning in his lungs. "Why?" whined Dutch, his frustration evident. Micah also came closer to them. "I don't know, maybe the same reason as us." Arthur replied.
Arthur and Dutch walked closer to the stairs leading to the front door. "Micah, go bring the horses closer to the house. Arthur, let's go search the cabin."
Arthur followed Dutch as Dutch stepped up the stairs and into the house. Inside, it wasn't big but rather cozy. When you first stepped inside, you could see the bedroom immediately at the end of the room, with a wall beside the bed dividing the closet area. There was a ladder by the small wall leading to a half second floor, a small loft. To their left was a kitchen with a medium-sized table.
"Smells like a party in here." commented Arthur, eyeing the table where plates were scattered.
Dutch immediately gave an order. "Turn the place upside down, grab as many supplies as you can."Arthur and Dutch walked over to the table and gathered the food they could use. "We need the essentials. Food, medicine... whiskey," Dutch said, the last part in a low tone.
Arthur found some salted beef and placed it inside his satchel that hung from his right shoulder to his left hip. He turned around and walked to a fireplace that was still lit. There were some alcohol glasses and even pictures. "Oh," Arthur muttered, picking one up. It was a picture of a woman and a man-likely the corpse outside.
"Looks like the poor bastard was married too, at some point."
Dutch, still rummaging through the kitchen, called back, "If we can't eat it or drink it, put it down."
Arthur walked to the right and saw a small side table. He found four classic oatcakes and suddenly felt the pangs of hunger. Had he eaten yesterday? He couldn't remember. He let out a groan due to the pounding in his head. "I'm starving." he muttered but placed the oatcakes in his satchel without eating them.
"You should eat something now. Get your strength up for the ride back." advised Dutch.
Arthur complied, taking an oatcake out of his satchel and eating it. He then walked into the kitchen and gathered more supplies: canned fruit, canned vegetables, and assorted biscuits.
"O'Driscolls, I don't believe it." said Dutch, his voice tinged with frustration. Arthur kept searching the cabinets for medicine and food.
"It's a strange one, alright. Maybe they're hiding up here too. There's a big price on Colm O'Driscoll's head... nearly as big as the one on yours." Arthur replied, chuckling a little at the last part.
"Wanting Colm dead is about the only thing me and Uncle Sam agree on." Dutch said. Arthur found more canned vegetables as Dutch spoke.
Arthur didn't respond and walked towards the closet area. He noticed a broken shelf and, after a moment, realized there was a puddle of blood scattered on the floor and on the broken shelves. "Big old pool of blood on the floor here." said Arthur.
"I saw." Dutch replied, his voice grim.
"Probably the poor old bastard who lived here. Micah found a dead body in the wagon outside." Arthur added.
Arthur then realized the "closet" area was a bathroom. It was a bit strange without any walls, but if you're married, it kind of made sense. He saw a medicine cabinet and opened it. Inside, he found two opened Health Cures.
"Keep on searching while I pack these on the horses." said Dutch, taking the collected supplies and heading out.
When Arthur had raided the medicine chest empty, keeping only the necessary items, Dutch called out again. "Meet me out here when you're done."
Arthur quickly climbed the ladder upwards and found a small table by a window. He discovered some supplies: four classic oatcakes and a package of six revolver cartridges - regular. After ensuring there was nothing else of value, he descended the ladder.
Back downstairs, he moved to the bedroom and found a large chest in front of the bed. Opening it, he only found some coins, totaling $1.64. He then checked the bedside table and found a gold pocket watch, definitely worth a good amount if sold. Inside the drawer, he also found a 'Stars of the Stage Card B' and a packet of premium cigarettes, which brought a small smile to his face. Despite knowing it wasn't good for his health, Arthur enjoyed smoking.
Deciding that he had searched enough, Arthur walked back outside. Dutch, who was busy tying some supplies to his horse, sadly addressed Micah and Arthur. "Micah, Arthur, keep looking for stuff." Arthur noticed Micah standing idly, smoking a cigarette. He wasn't going to judge; at least Micah had brought their horses back to the house."Arthur, go see if there's anything in that barn," Dutch instructed.
Arthur nodded and walked to the left side of the house, where a barn stood a bit further away. As he approached, he noticed some tracks but couldn't tell if they belonged to their horses. He kept his guard up, remaining cautious. When he got closer to the barn door, he heard a horse neigh and crept nearer.
Pulling the heavy, thick barn door open, Arthur saw two stables inside. One was occupied by a horse that was fully tacked up, while the other was empty. This was suspicious; you wouldn't leave a tacked-up horse alone if you weren't planning to ride it. He drew his gun from its holster and cautiously approached the horse.
The animal was a beauty-a pied horse with a black coat and striking white spots. It was calm, but Arthur remained vigilant. He carefully checked the surrounding area, trying to understand why this horse was left ready but seemingly abandoned.
Arthur's instincts told him something was off. He examined the tack and the stable, looking for any clues that might explain why this horse was left like this. It seemed unlikely that it was simply forgotten.
Just when Arthur reached the middle of the barn, a heavy weight fell on top of him. It took him a moment to realize it was a man. He fell onto his back, and his gun skidded a few centimeters away, just out of reach. The man tried to climb on top of Arthur, but Arthur managed to slide his foot up into the man's stomach and kicked him off.
"You bastard shot my cousin!" yelled the man, an O'Driscoll from what Arthur could tell.
"Well, he started it!" Arthur yelled back, scrambling to his feet at the same time as the O'Driscoll.
"I'm gonna break your neck!" the O'Driscoll snarled through gritted teeth. Both men stood in a defensive position. Suddenly, the O'Driscoll made the mistake of putting his hands to his sides, leaving himself wide open. Arthur seized the opportunity and landed several punches to his jaw. The O'Driscoll was surprisingly weak, unable to defend himself effectively.
Just then, Dutch's voice rang through Arthur's ears, and he saw Dutch in the corner of his eye, standing by the barn door with his gun pointed skyward. "What's going on?" Dutch asked, clearly intrigued."This guy just jumped me." Arthur replied, continuing to pummel the O'Driscoll, who groaned in pain. Arthur then grabbed the O'Driscoll by the throat, forcing him to the ground.
Dutch chuckled, clearly amused. "Oh, did he now?"
Arthur threw the O'Driscoll onto his butt, still gripping his throat. Dutch leaned against the doorframe, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "Sneaky little bastard... should I kill him?" Arthur asked, his right hand curled into a fist, ready to strike.
Dutch took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "No... Not yet. Find out what they're doing here... and where Colm is."
Arthur landed a few more punches, determined to get the information they needed. The O'Driscoll winced with every blow. "Oh, this son of a bitch will talk... Where's Colm O'Driscoll?"
"With the others... at an old mining camp southwest of here, near the lake." The O'Driscoll gasped out the information, his voice strained.
Arthur kept his hand tightly curled around the O'Driscoll's throat, pressing for more answers. "What are you bastards doing up here? Why are you here?" He tightened his grip, and the man's nose began to bleed heavily, but he remained conscious.
"We're fixing to rob a train, gonna blow the tracks. I don't know more than that, I swear!" The O'Driscoll's voice trembled, his face contorted with pain.
Dutch chuckled darkly, his gaze lingering on the scene. "Well, I would say it looks like you have this, Arthur. Do what you want with him, I don't care. But bring that horse when you're done." With that, Dutch turned and walked away, leaving Arthur to deal with the O'Driscoll.
Arthur, his face set in a grim expression, returned his focus to the O'Driscoll. He landed a few more punishing blows, each one echoing the harshness of his frustration. Finally, with a forceful punch, he snapped the O'Driscoll's neck, the body going limp and lifeless. Arthur released the now-dead man, letting him fall to the ground.
He took a deep breath, straightened up, and picked up his hat before retrieving his gun. With a determined stride, he walked over to the horse, the beautiful pied horse that had been left in the barn. Arthur approached it with calm, practiced movements.
"Shh, easy, it's okay." Arthur murmured softly, reaching out to gently pat the horse's neck. The animal, sensing Arthur's soothing presence, gradually calmed down. Arthur took the reins and led the horse out of the barn, approaching the others.
Dutch, who was still organizing their supplies, looked up as Arthur came into view. "Is that bastard still in there?" he asked, nodding towards the barn.
"He's dealt with." Arthur replied, his tone steady.
"Good. That looks like a decent horse. You should keep him. Tie him up over there, Arthur." Dutch gestured to a hitching post near a small cabin, which could have been an outdoor toilet or perhaps a storage shed.Arthur led the horse over to the hitching post and secured it with practiced efficiency. As he was finishing up, a sudden, loud noise shattered the moment-a woman's terrified scream echoed through the cold air.
"Get away from me!" the woman's voice cried out, filled with fear.
Arthur pushed through the snow as quickly as he could, his boots sinking deep into the drifts. He reached the door just as Dutch's voice cut through the chaos. "Micah, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Dutch's voice was sharp, filled with anger.Arthur flung open the door, revealing a troubling scene inside. A woman, dressed in a simple undergarment-like dress, stood in the middle of the room, clearly distressed. Dutch stood by the door, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. Micah, on the other hand, was provocatively teasing the woman.
"Oh, look what I found in the cellar." Micah said with a twisted grin. "Wild thing, ain't you?" He dodged a bottle the woman threw at him, the glass shattering against the wall.
Dutch's face hardened. "Leave her alone!" he shouted, his voice brokering no argument. Arthur glared at Micah, his fists clenched. It took every ounce of his willpower not to launch himself at Micah right then and there.
Micah's dismissive reply came as he caught another bottle thrown at him. "I wasn't doing anything."
"She's one of them O'Driscolls." Micah accused, his voice dripping with scorn. Arthur sighed deeply, trying to ignore the surge of anger rising within him. "No she ain't, Micah. Look at her," Dutch countered, stepping forward as the woman picked up a knife from the table, her hands trembling.
Dutch moved with deliberate calm, trying to defuse the situation. "Miss, miss, are you-" His voice was cut off as Micah, in a fit of childish spite, threw the table sideways. A lantern that had been resting on it shattered, sending flames licking up the wooden floor.
"Oh, you fool Micah." Dutch muttered under his breath, frustration evident in his tone.
Micah, still laughing, seemed oblivious to the danger, walked towards the woman, who, now fully on edge, raised the knife threateningly. Dutch moved swiftly, shoving Micah back to keep him out of harm's way. Arthur grabbed Micah by the arm, pulling him further away from the woman.
Dutch spoke in a calm, soothing tone, trying to ease the woman's panic. "Miss, now it's going to be okay." His voice was steady as he slowly approached her. Arthur stood behind Dutch, watching the room carefully, ready to step in if needed. The fire crackled menacingly in the background, adding urgency to the situation.
The woman's hand, still clutching the knife, trembled as she watched Dutch's approach. "We mean you no harm." Dutch continued, his voice as gentle as he could manage under the circumstances. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. When she attempted to use the hand with the knife to attack Dutch, he pushed her hand aside with a firm but gentle touch.
"Miss! Miss.." Dutch repeated, his tone becoming more urgent. He kept his hand on her shoulder, offering a sense of support and reassurance. "Come on, it'll be okay. We need to get out of here, and quick." His eyes flicked towards Arthur, who nodded in response.
Dutch wrapped the woman in the blanket, trying to offer her some warmth against the cold night. The fire's light flickered in the background, casting long shadows across the snowy landscape. Dutch turned to the woman with a compassionate look, though his eyes remained sharp and alert."You okay, miss?" Dutch asked, his voice gentle but firm.
The woman's voice quivered as she replied, "They came three days ago... and my husband, they..." Her words faltered into a sob, her grief palpable.
Dutch nodded sympathetically. "Okay, miss. You're safe now... and you can't stay here." He glanced back at the house, now almost fully engulfed in flames, the second story ablaze and spreading rapidly. The roof was already beginning to collapse. Dutch turned his attention back to the woman. "You come with us."
Arthur, holding the lantern Dutch had passed to him, watched the scene unfold. He saw Dutch's determination and knew that any more delay would be dangerous. Dutch walked over to his horse, which was tethered next to the new horse Arthur had found in the barn. He mounted it and looked back at Arthur.
Dutch gave the woman to Arthur as he was getting on his own horse.
With a gentle hand, Arthur helped her over to Dutch's horse. Arthur guided her to mount behind Dutch.
"Miss, it's okay, alright?" Arthur said soothingly, as he helped her onto the horse. "We're bad men, but we ain't them. so, it's okay."
Once she was on the horse, Dutch made sure she was settled comfortably behind him."We'll keep you safe until you figure out what you wanna do," Arthur reassured her, his voice steady and kind despite the situation.
"What's your name, miss?" Dutch asked gently as they rode through the snow.
...
"Miss?"
"Adler."
"Adler?" Dutch repeated, wanting to be sure he heard correctly.
"Sadie Adler. Mrs... I... he... he was my husband." Her voice broke as she spoke, the pain of her loss evident in every word.
Closing scene: Colter
"Hey, somebody's coming!" Lenny yelled from his watch position, aiming his shotgun cautiously. "Looks like it's Dutch!" he shouted back as Dutch, Micah, and Arthur returned to the temporary camp. "Hey, everybody, Dutch is back!"
Everyone emerged from the main house, curiosity and concern etched on their faces.
"How'd you get on?" Hosea asked, stepping forward.
"Micah found a homestead, but he weren't the first. Colm O'Driscoll and his scum, they beat us to it." Dutch replied, the group coming to a halt as Arthur and Micah dismounted. A few of the gang members surrounded Dutch, noticing the woman on his horse.
"We found some of them there, but there are more about, apparently. Scouting a train. Thank you," Dutch added, handing his horse's reins to someone.
Hosea's concern deepened. "That's the last thing we need right now, Dutch."Dutch turned to him. "Well, it is what it is, but we found some supplies, some blankets, a little bit of food... and this poor soul, Mrs. Adler." He gestured to Sadie, who stood beside him, encircled by the gang.
"Miss Tilly, Miss Karen, would you warm her up, give her a drink or something? Mrs. Adler, it's gonna be okay. You're safe now." Tilly and Karen gently led Sadie away, offering her comfort.
Dutch spoke quieter, his voice heavy with anger and fatigue. "They turned her into a widow. Animals." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I need some rest. I haven't slept in three days." Miss Grimshaw stepped forward, gesturing to a separate cabin.
"You're over here. Miss O'Shea will show you the way," she said to Dutch before addressing Arthur. "Mr. Morgan, we put you in a room over here." She gestured to another small cabin reserved for Arthur.
"Thank you, Miss Grimshaw." Arthur said, nodding his appreciation."Mr. Bell, you're with the fellers over there." Miss Grimshaw pointed to another cabin.
Micah's annoyance was immediate and vocal. "Wha- how come Arthur gets a room and I get a bunk bed next to Bill Williamson and a bunch of darkies?" he sneered, disbelief and irritation evident in his tone.
Hosea's patience was thin. "Get yourself to bed, Micah." he said firmly, his voice brooking no argument.