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Nowadays many folks near New Hanover knew better than to venture too far into the open plains lest they meet an assured grisly end. Not many were brave enough to whisper their name save for a few, but everyone knew not to mess with any of the boys with a green bandana tied around their necks.O’Driscolls, they were called.It was bad enough they were Irish, some thought, but to be so depraved to steal and kill without remorse? Unforgivable.Wanted posters were a constant reminder to the townsfolk of other gangs and wanted men, many of the said subjects tearing them down to prolong their reign of terror but not the O’Driscolls, thriving off the dumb enough to chase them down.They were a shameless bunch, proudly displaying their faces to those they robbed, and knew full well there’d be no way their victims could ever identify them afterward. It was plain bad luck to cross paths with an O’Driscoll since just like the wolves prowling the mountains: they both travel in packs and once you catch sight of one, it’s often too late to run././“Ay. Joe. Y’up to head wit’ me ‘nd Darragh t’go t’Grizzlies? We got some dynamite comin’ up from the North ‘nd Liam wants us on it.” Nathaniel, one of Josie’s posse members asked her, a cigarette lodged firmly in his mouth as he spoke, at least, that is what she thought he said. He was hardly intelligible to begin with since he was a constant drunk.Josie pursed her lips and shook her head, jerking her head towards a drawing of a train, trying to silently signal her intent. Nathaniel stood dumbfounded for a moment before understanding filled his brown eyes.He let out a scoff, “Shit. I keep forgettin’ yer a mute. What’chu doin’ wit’ the train?” He questioned, pulling up a chair from nearby to take a seat by her, propping his feet up on the box where she had laid down her paper and charcoal, not noticing, or perhaps, not caring as he jostled it.It was a rudimentary drawing, something that a child could outclass. With a shaky hand, Josie had drawn an imitation of a train, complete with four big wheels on the side and a series of windows, and a little whistle on top. The name Willard Garfield was written on the side, and a series of questions written on the side such as; ‘How many guns?’, ‘Gold?’, ‘Bonds?’, and ‘Infiltrate?’.He nodded slowly, “Ah. I see. Boss got’chu doin’ some scoutin’. Smart. S’not like you can squeal any should any Pinkertons show up.” He tapped the makeshift table in thought and then leveled Josie with a stare.“I ain’t gonna get in yer business, s’not my place, I know but, uh, be safe. Okay? Yer t’only fucker I trust to back me in a fight.” He finished with a sincere note, his voice strained and eyebrows furrowed. He ran a hand through his nonexistent hair, giving her a look that she couldn’t quite decipher.Despite being a portly man with the temper of a wet wolverine, Nathaniel was a decent man when compared to the other members of Josie’s cohort. He wasn’t the smartest and had the emotional range of a teaspoon but he was loyal, a rare trait within the O’Driscolls. Many at camp wouldn’t hesitate to sell each other out if it resulted in an extra blanket or even some extra coffee grounds left in the pot. They were an unlikely pair, a friendship borne of necessity but she could recount all the times he could’ve left her for dead and he didn’t. In exchange, Josie had begun teaching him how to write in the downtime Liam had given them. She wasn’t positive they’d be friends in another life but she’d be content to be his friend in this one.She tilted her hat in acknowledgment, then shooed him away with her hand. He let out a laugh, “Alright then, I gotta get on anyway. Don’tcha be too excited t’see me go now.” Nathaniel joked, a small smile playing at his lips as he turned away to go join the crew.With a sigh, the ravenette turned around to examine the camp, watching as Nathaniel and Liam mounted their horses and with several others, rode off. Biting down the rising jealousy that she couldn’t join Nathaniel, having instead assigned desk work, Josie opened a book. Despite how utterly interesting, ‘Chess Moves Through The Century’ claimed to be, she couldn’t help but drift off to her thoughts.Colm fancied himself a military man, from what she’d been told, despite taking anyone and everyone he could, he did like some order within his gang. She had heard each of them were like colonies, though she’d never met the man herself, having instead been recruited under his brother, Darragh.He was a right bastard and a brute to boot but she knew she’d probably die for the man, not out of loyalty, mind you but because what a sniveling coward he was. If Colm thought himself to be a military man then Darragh believed himself to be some sort of king. Oh, folks liked Colm fine enough but Darragh attracted swarms of people like maggots to a corpse. You wanted to be liked by that type of man, hell, Josie couldn’t lie, she wanted to be accepted by him too, initially, but if you sprinkle gold on shit, it’s just really shiny shit.She had given up everything for him and like some sort of witch, Darragh had taken her voice too in the process. She could still talk, briefly, though the pain of being discovered outranked her resentment towards Darragh. So, despite every bone in her body begging her to leave the camp, leaving nothing but her green shirt behind, Josie stayed.It wasn't like she had a family that was willing to whisk her away from this life or some lover that was willing to fight the big bad man, she had no one like that.Darragh had offered her something beyond the nothingness the streets offered a poor orphan like herself. It was a tale as old as time, parents stolen from a child far too early, forcing the child to take charge of herself. Oh, she’d stolen and lied just like any street urchin but folks didn’t want you around anymore after a reputation of being gutter scum trailed behind you everywhere you went. St. Denis didn’t want her and she wasn’t welcome in most reputable cities, so when Darragh had caught the guttersnipe aiming to help herself to the contents of his pockets, instead of skinning her alive, he welcomed her into the fold.It could have been his stutter or impatience, but when Josephine tried to introduce herself and give him her name, he had cut her off to ramble on about taking her on her first job, and that was that.With a sigh, the woman shut the book close, hadn't even gotten past the first chapter and then dug into her pocket, fished out a cigar, and lit it with her lighter. Smoking was a nasty habit, she knew, but the burn of it trailing down her lungs and the release she felt whenever she exhaled, was something Josie just couldn’t give up.Too full of energy from the nicotine, she eyed the document once more, picking it up as she studied its contents.From intel, she’d gathered through force from some men within Garfield’s mining company, she knew a shipment of gold from the mine would be heading from Iowa to a pitstop in Yellowcreek, switching out the crew and then continuing onto Pennsylvania, where Willard’s business was based at.It had been decided that the best course was if ’Joe‘ intercepted the train while they were resting at Yellowcreek and found a place to hide until Darragh showed up. When discussing the heist, he had mentioned wanting to show up with a small group, something that the guardsmen would underestimate and then she’d pop up and they’d make it off with the gold and bonds she’d heard about.Something about the element of surprise, she was supposed to help them sneak on as well. It was a terrible plan, if you asked her but they did not care enough to.Normally this type of work wasn’t assigned to her but several of Josie’s bosses are now resting in prison, where they would sit until Colm or Darragh decided they needed them. She was a grunt worker, unceremoniously promoted since most of her higher-ups were either dead or imprisoned. She knew there was a high turnover rate as an outlaw but it was almost laughable how she was now the most competent to set Darragh’s plans into motion.It felt like being given the honor of rolling the wooden horse into Troy.Josie hadn’t been in any gangs before Darragh had integrated her into the gang but the O’Driscolls were the strangest she’d ever ridden with. For a bunch of murderous and seemingly inbred lot, the O’Driscoll Brothers treated this whole ordeal more like a parlor game of Ludo but with a hedonic pursuit and more blood drawn than your typical game. They were always at war, whether it was with the Lamarie Gang, the Hangmen, or Del Lobos, whose paths they frequently crossed depending on where they resided.Luckily in the past few months her cohort led by one of Darragh’s chosen, Liam, had been hanging around Texas and Arizona, mostly performing homestead robberies and the odd carriage robbery. It was nasty work, killing folks unnecessarily and stirring up more trouble that drew unwanted attention, thankfully she got to keep her hands clean and tidy by focusing her efforts on gathering information that could be useful. It didn’t make her a better person than any of the other O’Driscolls, Josie was still a rotten no-good outlaw just like the rest, it didn’t matter if she wanted to be there or not.However, as the seasons changed and cycled once more, most of the gang had traveled and settled near the border of Ohio and West Virginia, only a few miles from either state in each direction, while the rest remained in Tennessee to further terrorize the homesteads that resided there, though they should be all grouping up shortly as March approached.Her eyes flickered to the rest of camp, spotting the setting sun. It was a cramped space, all of them packed up in a small meadow like sardines.She grumbled, shooting a glare at the sun as if it was its fault she’d gotten caught up in the clouds. The campfire flickered and taunted her, the boys circled the fire, beckoning her to join them, beer in their hands and no doubt to get up to no good. She raised a hand to give them a quick wave, dismissing their offer, and stalked off towards her tent.When situated in a group with twenty or so men- ones who either couldn’t afford to take a bath or simply were long past caring what anyone thought of them, it was best to maintain a healthy distance. They did not produce the natural musk they thought they did, and she aimed to not smell like corned beef and cheap booze. It certainly didn’t help that she couldn’t help but distrust most of the gang.Josie preferred the isolation, always setting up her tent near the edge of camp. It gave her much-needed privacy that one didn’t naturally cultivate in this type of hectic environment and was generally safer. With a short trek through the forest, the noise of the camp gradually quieted down the further she went, and she finally reached her tent.It was a shabby little thing, a faded gray makeshift tent made of spare fabrics. It did the job and kept the rain and cold out, thus, she was satisfied with the tent. Given she hadn’t paid a cent for it, the woman could hardly complain regardless. It was abandoned in a ditch, for a good reason too, it was the ugliest thing she had ever laid eyes on but it was perfect for repelling unwanted visitors, given the various blood stains that settled on the side, Josie reckoned the previous owner didn’t meet a peaceful end.She slowly approached the front of the tent, coming to a stop as she cast a glance over at Ody, nestled near the left side of her tent. Despite the night warming up, she quietly crept towards him and grabbed the blanket she’d left out for him to drape it over him. Satisfied, Josie gently caressed his mane, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she watched him sleep on.He was a spoiled little thing but Josie loved him more than life. She had gotten the Morgan back in Utah five months ago during a game of poker. She couldn’t tell you a lick of the rules, but knew well enough to raise some hell when they said she lost. Though, after being thrown from the pub, stewing indignantly in the mud, Josie, while extremely inebriated, noticed the checkered stallion resting by the saloon. She had recalled vaguely about one of the men- Johnson- or something of the same ilk, had boasted about winning the horse earlier in the day at an auction of some sort, and Josie couldn’t tell you if it was jealousy or an act of revenge, but as soon as she lifted herself up from the mud- she had hopped onto the stallion and made off with her prize.It wasn’t her finest moment, horse thieving, but Josie made sure to make it up to Ody every day, by showering him with head scratches or treats. He didn’t seem to complain either way.She gripped a piece of her tent flap and lifted it as she stepped in. It wasn’t much, but it was home, for the time being. It was a complete mess, Josie thought with some reproach, finally able to take off her hat and release her hair from its confines. Tossing the brown wide-brimmed hat to a small corner in her tent occupied by a wooden box, Josie unraveled her braid, running her fingers through her raven hair to let it splay out.Stepping over various garments thrown carelessly on the floor and bullet casings Josie had left out as she made her way to her cot. With a groan, Josie plopped herself onto her cot, her aching back crying in relief as it melded with the woolen material. She kicked her boots off lazily, not caring where they ended up or what they collided with. With the last remaining remnant of daylight creeping through the tent slit, Josie allowed herself to relax and grabbed the wadded-up blanket near the border of her cot, spreading it out to cozy up on.Despite the call of oblivion edging Josie on and her eyelids increasing heavy, there was one more thing Josie had to do before she fell into slumber. Josie shifted, leaning towards the end of her cot so her hand could snake down below to grab the lockbox.Once her hand found the purchase, she dragged it back and shifted back into place, dropping the box onto her lap. Josie then dug into her pocket to produce a key and opened the lockbox to reveal a cattleman and a few dollar clips, but it was the cattleman Josie was after.She gingerly took it from its place and placed the lockbox back, slipping the cattleman under her pillow, just in case some idiot found out her secret.The O’Driscolls didn’t take kindly to the murder of their own but there were so many of those dolts, Josie wasn’t even sure they’d notice the disappearance of one or two lackeys. Even if they noticed, Josie doubted they’d suspect ol’ Joe Calloway.With that done, Josie needed some sleep.She had a job to perform tomorrow, after all...The silence of the forest was deafening, Josie thought with a twinge of regret, already wishing she’d got to go with Darragh and the other boys instead of being stuck on reconnaissance. It was early in the morning, too early, if you asked Josie, with no sign of life save for a few rabbits that dared to venture out before sunrise. Snow still lingered on the ground despite it being May, though Josie couldn’t say she minded too much, seeing as Ody seemed to enjoy stomping down on snow clumps. She idly ruffled his mane as they continued through the forest.Despite how creepy the silence was to Josie, there was a degree of ethereal peace that Josie couldn’t deny. Life with the O’Driscolls was chaotic and tense, never a moment for true peace but outside in the wilderness, it was like nirvana to the young women.They were always complaining, or reminiscing about life back in Ireland. She didn’t know which one was worse.At this very moment, Josie wasn’t an O’Driscoll or an outlaw, she was just a woman taking a morning ride on her horse through the snow.Frost lingered on the trunks of many of the surrounding trees, the rhythmic pitter-patter of horse hooves against the foliage of the forest relaxed her.Bursts of orange and yellow peeked out through clusters of trees just a bit beyond Josie, illuminating the night-touched forest with its light, with each step Ody took, bringing Josie closer to the end of it all.It rendered her breathless and gobsmacked.Josie grasped Ody’s reins, pulling them towards her chest as she guided him to a stop. It was entirely impractical but Josie wanted to take in the sight.It was something money could only hope to buy, the feeling of the scenic sight before her imbued her with was indescribable. It seemed so small from her vantage point but it astounded Josie how great and vast the river surrounded by the mountains seemed. Hundreds, if not thousands of trees stood tall from each side of the mountain, no trace of the snow within miles, and the rich colors of spring began to sprout as life came back to the valley once more.She raised her hand to stand on the horizon, keeping it close to her head to fix her perspective. Using an old trick she’d learned from Darragh, each finger represents fifteen minutes. As her hand lined up with the horizon, the sun was in line with her ring finger, giving her a timeframe of around forty-five minutes until the sun would have completely risen in the sky.Which meant it was around six or seven in the morning.If the information she’d received from the former Garfield insiders was correct, any moment now the train should be passing through and all she’d have to do was stow away and make sure no other gangs vie for their hit. Like any job, there was a degree of uncertainty since she would be on her own for a few hours until the train crossed the border, where Darragh should be waiting for her, but that was all in a day's work.With a huff, she let her foot gently tap Ody’s side and with that, they set off once more.It was hard not to be pulled into some sort of lull listening to Ody’s hooves hit the dirt path as her thoughts itched at the forefront of her mind. She was afraid to admit it but Josie was hesitant about the job despite all the research gone into it. It wasn’t that she was scared about the prospect of robbing a train with the limited practice she’d been given, no, any idiot worth their salt could rob a train, the question Josie was wondering was; why her?Liam had told her that Darragh had explicitly asked for Joe by name, using her male name. Which surely meant her cover wasn’t blown. They hadn’t spoken in three odd years but here he was, arriving like El Muerto himself with lightning crackling beneath him and the head dangling from his saddle. It shouldn’t be a problem but it did make her uneasy.She was sure no one suspected, having earned grudging respect around the camp that would’ve never been possible had they known she was a woman but Darragh was smarter than the average O’Driscoll. It wasn’t a hard competition, either, they weren’t the brightest bunch. Living with a bunch of morons with a combined IQ of a stray pebble meant it wasn’t too hard to pull the wool over their eyes. She knew better than to underestimate their cruelty, though.Joe Calloway hadn’t been born just so Josephine Calloway could die with a whimper.Maneuvering the reins over to her right hand and grasping the rifle attached to Ody’s side with her left, slipping it over her back with ease, only time would tell, she supposed. She could run around in circles with her thoughts and still get nowhere with it.Flowers lined along the path, all pretty but all unknown to her.May flowers bring April showers, she thought, eyeing the flora once more before redirecting her attention to the path, doing her best to ignore the twinge within the confines of her chest, the ugly feeling that festered within. If she was here, she could tell her the type and meaning of the flower with ease. Josie wished she’d paid more attention when she had the chance, maybe even woman up and tell her everything she never got to. It was cowardly of her, to wish for things to be the same as they were as if she hadn’t driven her away. Maybe Darragh had been right that day.Too late to be remorseful, the best thing she could do was move on from it. ‘Running is all you ever do, Little Joe, why not stay once in a while..?’ It was just noise, the shrill whisper of wind, a ghost, she told herself, her shoulders tensing up, riding alone in the wilderness makes you hear things. It made Nathaniel believe that his dead wife was back, nearly jumping off a cliff in search of an apparition.Shaking off those thoughts like smoldering rain on her jacket, Josie continued on, spotting the glimpse of the train station not too far off.The town of Yellowcreek was a provincial one but most importantly was a company town consisting of steel and lumber mills meaning it was highly populated but incredibly isolated. They tended to deal with exports and imports, in short, the only visitors they received were either men looking for work or those passing by in search of greater things than the quaint town. Even from her current position, she could practically taste the thick smog of smoke that wafted from the factories resting at the edge of the town, overshadowing all the storefronts from her view.Yellowcreek was a shithole, to be put bluntly. Filled to the brim with menial workers most who were born and then died in this town. Never even venturing further than their local creek. If she was smart, that could be an advantage.There wasn’t supposed to be another town for miles upon miles if her map was to be believed.She was even willing to bet they didn’t have any other transportation besides a few lame former workhorses and that shiny new train of theirs.Spurned on by unearned confidence, Josie goaded Ody into a trot by applying a slight pressure on the reins. It was nearing eight o’clock which meant any moment now, the train would be arriving in Yellowcreek and she’d only have a fifteen-minute timeframe to sneak onto the train and hole up until they crossed into Tennessee. With a huff, Ody increased his pace and only slowed down once directed to do so as they approached the big gleaming town sign.Cobblestone pavement lined every inch of the town and it seemed much more populated than she’d expected. Josie had been expecting a two-horse town, a town with only one doctor and general store, not one with a damned theater of all things. All sorts of folk passed by Ody, eyeing both the horse and herself with varying degrees of interest much to her unease. Josie made it a point to blatantly ignore anyone trying to strike up a conversation as she perused the streets, tilting her hat forward to further obscure her face.It took only a gentle nudge from her foot to ease Ody into a tentative trot, allowing Josie to get a better view of the supposed small town.St. Denis it was not though it mimicked some of the French influence in a similar fashion. The storefronts were loud and boisterous, demanding attention from any potential customers, the banners were frilly and colorful to lure in folks.All sorts of salesmen lined up on every corner, each selling something just as ridiculous as the next.“My good men! The government is lying to you! I have seen the truth and it is that we descend from an ancient race of fish that were left behind when God took away the dinosaurs! If you buy my book for twelve dollars, you too, can be informed as I am!” One clearly deranged man cried from a corner, wringing a book in the air, his hair sprayed out in all different directions and his face starved, almost skeletal like, attempting to catch Josie’s eye and garner her attention. She kept her stare at her lap and ushered Ody to speed up and get her away from the man. Didn’t matter what kind of truth that man had been smoking, she wanted none of it.Once his cries for her to hear the truth were far enough away from Josie, she finally raised her head, scanning for the post office.Maybe her information had been faulty? They had sworn up and down it was all true.. Though perhaps she’d been a bit eager when obtaining the confession, too caught up in the haze of it all to assure the validity. It was her fault for letting them congregate, not bothering to gag them, had figured they’d be tired from screaming to lie to her.By all accounts, Yellowcreek should be nothing more than a working town but from what she was seeing, it was a thriving burgh a skip away from becoming a metropolis. She had no one but herself to blame for this. Stifling a groan, Josie reached down into her pocket and wriggled a spare cigarette from the box, letting it hang lazily from her mouth as she brought her lighter to it.With a simple swish and flick, her cigarette was lit and her lighter went back into her pocket.It hasn’t completely gone to shit, this could still be salvaged. Probably.The best way to find out was to try.Hearing a train whistle in the distance, it was now or never.Sighing for the umpteenth time since she’d arrived in this hick town, Josie set off, entirely oblivious to the quartet with similar goals to her own, just mere feet from her.
...
May 21st, 1882
Bill came into camp a few days back, flouting some lip about some tip he heard from a saloon or something of the sort and Dutch took to it like a fish to water. We did some scrounging around and seemed like Bill actually got something for once. Seems he ain’t useless after all. Next thing I’m gonna hear is that Uncle left some booze for the rest of us or Reverand swore off Morpheus. Dutch, Bill, John and I rode there the next night. Called Yellowcreek. Seems like the type of town that don’t get much crime, the kind of town you could go honest in. Not something I could ever live in.
Maybe Mary would’ve moved there with me if I weren’t a no-good outlaw. I don’t know. Ain’t worth getting worked up over.
Bill said something about a man, a shifty lowlife fixing to board then rob the train. Don’t seem too bright of them. Suppose we ain’t too bright either, seeing as Dutch wants to do the same. I ain’t one do question but don’t got a good feeling about this. Bill Williamson has only been riding with us for a year or so, and from what I’ve seen, that man would sell his own Mother if it meant first takes on some shit quality hooch.
I can only hope that Dutch cuts him loose at one point, though I ain’t gonna hold my breath. Not my job to doubt, just to shoot folks that need shooting. Rob those that need robbing.
With that, Arthur closed his journal and stowed it back into his satchel. From what Bill remembered from those workers, which wasn’t much since he’d been drunk off his ass, per the usual, was that the man who’d beaten them half-dead was a real short bastard with a mean look about them. It wasn’t much to go off of but Dutch had reckoned they could sus them out by arriving early and checking out each person who boarded the train. It was only a matter of observation. Naturally, Arthur was chosen to review the passengers while they’d hole up somewhere in the train, leave Arthur to subdue the would-be robber, then they’d take anything of value that wasn’t bolted down.
It was still relatively early morning when they had arrived in town, Dutch insisting they should blend in before boarding the train. Hence, the four outlaws busied themselves with non-existent chores once they were all holed up at their prospective posts. With Bill, all cozied up near the saloon, Dutch on Arthur’s left, getting a lay of the land as he chatted up pretty ladies, no doubt getting information, Arthur thought with a snort. John, ever the lazy bastard, snagged the opportunity to ‘watch’ the train station, leaving Arthur the entrance.
It didn’t bother Arthur much, he’d take guard duty every day if it meant Bill Williamson or John Marston wasn’t all up in his face and bothering him with their combined nonsense. Wrangling a pig in the mud was easier than dealing with them at times.
To look less suspicious than Arthur no doubt looked at the moment, all scowling and dirty by the entrance, he began to tend to Boadicea in the meantime.
From any outsider’s perspective, he was just a lonesome cowboy grooming his horse after his shift, just as rugged and mud-trodden as any other.
All sorts of people came into and out of town, none of them giving Arthur any mind, which suited him fine. It seemed all they wanted to talk about was either the Garfield train or some horticulturist supposed to be riding through the States in a few days.
They’d have to be one hell of a whore to get a whole fancy title.
Though, why come through Yellowcreek? It was a two-horse town and a generally miserable place from what Arthur saw, the grease-covered faces of coal workers and booze stains on their uniforms told him everything he needed to know about it.
Once you’ve seen one Northern town, you’ve seen them all. All folks who tried to make it big and settle on land stolen from others, only to settle in any backwater town that’ll have them when they failed.
Speaking of failure...
He did think Bill’s lead was nothing of substance.
Arthur has never doubted Dutch but he did doubt Bill and the prospective score he kept boasting about. It was hard not to remind him about the last two tips he received or how it ended with Arthur breaking him out of jail, both times.
While there was talk in town about the Garfield train arriving, and how it was supposed to be filled with so much gold it would make some European royalty green with envy, it was all conjecture from where Arthur was standing.
Though the time was- the incoming locomotive’s whistle quite literally derailed Arthur’s train of thought. Jumping into action, Arthur mounted Boadicea with relative ease, his gaze instinctively moving towards Dutch, who mirrored his own movements and set off.
Needing no encouragement, Boadicea took heed and followed the white stallion. Smart girl, Arthur thought with a roaring pride, affectionately patting the mare on the scuff of her neck a few times before retracting his hand and giving full attention back to the road.
“Ride on son, in just a few minutes, we’ll be a lot richer!” Dutch cheered with an ease that Arthur almost envied. He wondered about the intelligence in announcing to the world so close to civilians.
“Y’See Bill yet?” Arthur questioned, slinging his rifle over his back.
“He’ll meet us at the train station, had some business to take care of for me,” Dutch explained and with that, they rode in silence to the train station.
He didn’t mind the silence.
It reminded Arthur of simpler times before Dutch and Hosea picked up the stragglers and dead weight like John, Uncle, and Annabelle to name a few. Arthur liked Annabelle enough but despite calming down Dutch during his little fits of passion, she didn’t contribute much to the gang. He remembered laughing up a storm when Annabelle stopped Dutch- all red in the face- by popping a cigar in his mouth to silence him- afterward, Dutch had been so embarrassed that he refused to leave his tent for two days straight, would have been longer if Annabelle didn’t drag him out to force him to bathe.
No, Arthur didn’t mind Annabelle at all, but it didn’t stop him from reminiscing. If Hosea were here, which he should’ve been if it weren’t for his cough, he’d scold Arthur for such thoughts and whack him on the head with a newspaper like a damned dog.
With a robbery of this proportion, Dutch had warned them all about how both lawmen and Pinkertons would descend upon them like a swarm of guns that needed no reason to pull the trigger, so their best bet was if they go in silently and once guards on the train realize somethings wrong, do whatever possible to make off with the loot and regroup at the nearby creek where Missus Grimshaw should be waiting with the rest of camp, all prepared to flee once they all show up.
“Arthur. We’re here.” Dutch told him, slowing down to match Arthur’s gait.
With a grunt, he dismounted Boadicea and gazed upon the train station. It was no Denver Union Station but it certainly aimed to be. It was big, not much to be said there. Arthur reckoned he could fit about a hundred horses in the room alone and still have room to fit a few more, it was colorful too. You could tell they were aiming to be fancy with how sleek the outside looked, and Arthur would bet it looked even fancier on the inside. Type of stuff that northerners- wealthy ones- probably ate up. At that point, they were just begging to be robbed coming to a place like this.
“Y’sure ‘bout leavin’ our horses out in the open like this, Dutch? Don’t see too smart.” Arthur questioned, dutifully tying up Boadicea despite his reservations, doing his best to trust Dutch despite the unease that occupied his mind. It was just too damn risky and if Arthur was being honest; it seemed like a waste of time pretending to be passengers, only to rob them a few moments later.
Dutch still hadn’t filled Arthur in how they’d be making their escape, which set him on edge.
“Arthur, my boy, my faithful comrade in arms, we’ve been through the thick of it—now is not the time to start questioning up a storm,“ Dutch began, quickly adapting his lecture voice. This meant Arthur would be reminded of this conversation later when Dutch would inventively bring this situation up after the train robbery.
“— I know times have been tough but we just need this one robbery and we can finally head westwards to Wyoming.” He finally finished, stalking towards the train station, having considered this matter thoroughly discussed as he left Arthur in the dust.