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Dutch sat on his soapbox next the flap of his tent, and lit a cigar. He knew there was scarcely time for a rest accompanied by a smoke. But damn it to Hell, he had to calm his nerves. Even he needed that. Dutch’s belongings were mostly packed in one of the caravans, along with most of his gang’s. Suddenly, he heard the familiar shouts of Susan Grimshaw.
“Damn it, Mary-Beth, leave it! We have got to leave!” She was right, and he’d told her as much. They nearly started a war in Blackwater. The constant, hurried motion of the camp was beginning to drive Dutch a little mad. Folks were moving, their footsteps followed by the small amount of dust one found in West Elizabeth. Still, maybe it was his responsibility for the Hell that had erupted one day prior. He stood up, still wearing the smart clothes tainted by the blood of reckless choices.
“LISTEN, EVERYONE!” His booming voice reached all corners of the camp, cracking at inopportune moments.
“Do NOT forget to bring coats! We are headin’ towards the Grizzlies by nightfall!”
“Do as Miss Grimshaw says, and leave anything that ain’t essential!”
“Dutch,” Abigail Roberts ran to him, “we need to get Davey to a doctor.”
“You know we have to run, Abigail.”
“I know, Dutch! It’s just-”
“We are not stickin’ around here!”
“Dutch, if we can just find one while we’re out on the-”
“Do not doubt me,” Dutch slowly enunciated, a manner of speaking that told others he was not to be pressed. Abigail turned back to Davey’s side, shaking her head. Dutch had frequently thought she had ideas above her station. He began to walk to the northside of the camp, examining the desperate happenings as people rushed and rushed. Another comrade caught up to him and spoke to his left.
“Dutch?” Hosea’s weathered voice inquired, “Are you sure about this? Us leavin’ all at once?”
“I don’t see that we have a choice, Hosea.”
“We gotta play it smarter, Dutch, after what you di- what went down in Blackwater.”
“We ain’t got time to split off and assemble at some spot,” a spot of frustration appeared in his voice. “We go up there. We get lost.”
“Folks are gonna catch on real quick, and you know it!” Hosea rebutted.
“And by the time they do,” Dutch countered, “not one of us will be in their sight.”
“It don’t seem right,” Hosea said with pursed lips, “but I trust your judgement.”
Dutch stopped in his tracks, and looked the older man in the eye.
“Thank you, Hosea,” a sentimental sincerity took over Dutch van der Linde. He placed a hand on Hosea Matthews’ right shoulder. “You don’t know how much you mean to me.” Hosea gave a slight smile.
“Everything will be well,” he continued, “I got you by my side, don’t I?” Dutch patted the older man on the shoulder, and walked off ready to nervously pace and puff a smoke. Hosea lingered, focusing upon Dutch’s figure. What would become of men such as him? He gave a deep sigh before attending to his own business once again.