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You’d been running with the O’Driscolls for almost eighteen years now, longer than any other member of the gang besides Colm himself. You’d been shot and beaten beyond an inch of your life, but you always made it back to the O’Driscolls. In a way, you refused to die.
You always came back, you were always there. So it wasn’t surprising that you became Colm’s ‘right hand man’ as it were. Nothing official, as your boss preferred to stand in the spotlight and kick everyone else off the stage, but it didn’t go unnoticed the way you were included in every plan or given special privileges and respect in camp.
There was a sick thrill in watching those who were your supposed “equals” in the group holding their tongues to you the same way they would if you were Colm.
You were enjoying a cigar, sitting on a barrel and looking out into the snowy landscape of the Grizzlies. Colm was organizing a train robbery with a massive load of dynamite and had involved you in every exhaustive step of the progress. A moment of peace and quiet with just you and your cigar was a luxury on the eve of such a big job.
“Mister! Hey, Mister!” You turned, looking down at the man that came running to you, a hand on his wide brimmed hat.
“What, Duffy?” You growled out, relishing in the way he stepped back, hand instantly dropping to fidget with the blue handkerchief around his neck.
“The horses-”
You didn’t give him a chance to speak, lashing out your hand to grab him by the shirt collar and yank him in, effectively silencing him.
After a long, slow drag of your cigar, you blew the smoke into his face, causing Kieran to turn his head and cough. His eyes were watery, either from the smoke or his fear. Probably both.
“Do I look like I give a fuck about the horses, Duffy?”
For a second he looks angry, like he’s about to tell you what's what, but your Cheshire grin shuts him up. His brief show of balls just amuses you.
“They’re almost out of food..” He mumbles, leaning back as far as he could despite your grip, refusing to look your way. You frown, cursing softly as you let him go. No food meant no horses, so maybe it was a serious matter.
“Go tell Colm, then. The hell are you bothering me for?”
Kieran looked around, still desperately avoiding your gaze.
“But..Colm’s...he’s…” You watched with a raised eyebrow as he struggled to get the words out. You knew exactly what Colm was like. You had seen more than one grown man weep just from the tongue-lashing Colm would give at the slightest hint of defiance. How merciless he was with even the sick and pitiful. That even with the most pure intentions of their success, Kieran wouldn't even last more than a couple of seconds under Colm's sneer. How difficult was it to say Colm was terrifying? Hed probably be flattered. You watched Duffy flounder and grown anxious, making a decision.
“I’ll tell him then.” Kieran looks at you finally, confused that you would do anything for him, even something so small as to keep him out of your bosses’ harsh gaze.
“W-What??”
You shoved him back as you stood, not looming over him but still having to look down. “Did I stutter?”
“N-No!!” You watched exasperatedly as he scurried away from you like a beat dog, tail tucked between his legs as you tossed your cigar to the side, sighing as you felt the brief relaxation of a quiet moment fall away.
-
You didn’t get the chance to talk to Colm until that evening, just as he’s about to leave. By that point you'd nearly forgotten about your conversation with Duffy, anyway.
“Stay here.” He told you. You stood by his horse as he passed out orders, bored out of your mind while you waited for him to finish so you could say your piece.
Your eyes began to wander as Colm kept talking. He wasn’t talking to you anyway, no need to pay attention.
And there was Kieran, playing with his horse’s mane and speaking to it softly. What was its name? Brandywine?
You didn’t notice Kieran staring over at you and Colm until he was beckoned over.
“S-Sir!” Oh God, you didn’t tell Colm about the horses. Kieran had taken it upon himself to tell him instead, the fool. “The horses are running out of food! It's...it's ridiculous that we tried to bring them up here with so little food and so much snow...they're going to die if you don't do something!”
It was stunning to think that Kieran might believe Colm cared, even more so that he got so far into his little rant. It was less stunning to be jolted out of your thoughts by the sound of a gloved hand hitting Kieran across the face, twice. His head jerked to each side when the slaps came his way, and you couldn’t hold back the barked out laugh that left you when it did.
Colm waved his hand dismissively at Kieran, and once again you got to watch him run away from you, back onto his horse and out of camp entirely.
You watched Kieran and Colm leave at the same time somewhat amusedly as Kieran had to awkwardly wait and still his horse so Colm could pass before he did.
Maybe it was mean to laugh at such a soft man getting the shit slapped out of him, but it was just as funny to watch as it was rude to laugh.
Now the only competent person left in camp, you made the decision to follow Kieran. You whistled for your horse out of the stables, watching the beast push the doors open with his nose and come trotting up to you.
Despite being nameless, you did care for your horse. A tall, broad war horse, covered in scars. Some people said that horses could be reminiscent of their owners, and that was proven true in the instance of you and your horse.
You mounted the animal, urging him to follow the tracks left in the snow.
-
He was sitting on the bank of a stream, his legs curled to his chest while staring into the water. The sound of your horse huffing his way through the snowy landscape drew his gaze. Kieran stood up as fast as he could, slipping on the ice and snow as he tried. You got close enough for him to hear you laugh as he fell back on his ass, an upset look twisting his features.
“Why’re you always laughin’ at me?!”
He sounded as pissed as a man could be, and yet you still found it funny, dropping off your horse to stalk towards him. The bravado of his annoyance fell as you kicked him in the chest, leaving him sprawled in the snow.
“Cause,” You begin, standing over him. “Watching you trip and stumble across this entire god forsaken tundra is hilarious.” You offered your hand to pull him up. “Not to mention you’re just funny looking anyway.”
He took your hand begrudgingly so you could pull him up, frowning angrily but not willing to say anything.
Now that he was standing, you could see the red on his face. It definitely stood out on his pale skin, more red than the wind chill could've provided.
“Damn, he got you good, didn’t he?” You said as you grabbed his jaw, turning his head side to side to look at the damage. His face was swollen, the bruising starting after just a few minutes.
“He wouldn’t have if you’d told him about the horses...” Kieran mumbled through squished lips. You furrowed your brows while anger lashed like a whip through your chest, pushing a finger against his chest.
“It sounds to me like you’re looking to add a few more bruises to that pretty face of yours, boy.” You growled out, following him as he stepped back to get away from you. “Or, you can keep that lip to yourself.” You said, stepping in as he rested his back against his horse, effectively stopped by the animal. He gave you the same wide-eyed look of fear that he’d already shown twice today, but before you could even think to be amused by it, it was gone and replaced by a look that didn’t sit right with you. You felt the fire building up in you both at his look, and how he hadn’t said a word, grabbing his coat collar and shaking him. “Well?! Cat got your tongue?!”
“You think I’m ‘pretty’?”
You let go of his clothes like they’d burned you through your gloves, taking a step back of your own. That was answer enough for Kieran, his mouth opening to say something. Nothing came out though as he scrambled to get up on his horse, leaving you to whip your head around to see what had spooked him.
You saw a group of horsemen, not any of your boys, riding towards you. And in the lead was Dutch Van Der Linde, Colm’s top rival. You wouldn’t’ve known it was him if the snow around you hadn’t cleared for a split second, just long enough for the two of you to lock eyes across the river. Shit. Fuck. If it came to a fight you’d be down four to one, especially if Kieran took off like he was definitely about to do.
Everything ran through your head in slow motion. If they killed you and ran after Kieran, he might talk. He could also get killed- but if you both ran, maybe you could get to Colm? Every plan you made seemed like it wouldn’t end well, but seeing Kieran turn tail and flee kicked you into action, leaping up onto your own horse to chase after him.
“Was that Dutch fucking Van Der Linde?!” You shouted at Kieran, though you already knew the answer.
“I don’t know!” Came his terrified reply. He wouldn’t know, he’d only been in the gang for a few months
“Son of a bitch-” You looked back to see a lone horseman chasing after you, lasso in his hands and swinging through the air.
“Kieran, keep going!”
“What?” You didn’t give him any warning before you’d jumped onto his horse, the rider’s lasso missing you by a few seconds. You let out a sharp whistle for your horse to follow you as you grabbed the reins around Kieran’s hands, urging his horse faster through the snow. When you jumped onto his horse you'd slipped yourself into the saddle, bumping him up almost into your lap. You didn’t look back again, only pushing the horse beneath you harder, faster.
If you had looked back, you would’ve seen the rope fly through the air a second time. Instead, you heard it the moment it wrapped around you, letting out a rough curse as you were yanked back off Kieran’s horse, his smaller body also caught in the rope.
You both crashed into the snow, a grunt leaving your lips as Kieran’s bony frame dug into you.
“Well what do we have here?” The rider’s voice might as well have been a laugh, with how amused it was. You kept your mouth shut, glaring him as he came into view. Arthur Morgan, Van Der Linde’s lap dog. Kieran, on the complete other side of the coin, was begging for mercy.
“Just let us go, c’mon!” He whimpered as Morgan tied your legs together. He followed suit with Kieran’s, immobilizing the both of you before tying up your hands.
“Y’know, just one of you will do.” Arthur said almost thoughtfully, but it was all a show as he looked down coldly at the two of you. “The nice and quiet O’Driscoll is soundin’ a hell of a lot better than the whining, crying one.”
Kieran got the hint, shutting his mouth. You weren’t shocked to hear he was crying, it seemed like Kieran could tear up at the drop of a hat.
“Heeyup.” Arthur grunted as he slung the two of you over his shoulder, depositing the two of you firmly on the rump of his horse.
The ride back was uneventful, if that was a word you could use to describe being kidnapped. You were certainly bored, bouncing painfully while Arthur drug Kieran’s name out of his terrified, shaking form and scaring him with threats.
You knew whatever they had in store for you wasn’t going to be fun, by any means. Maybe you were a little scared, too. But you wouldn’t show it, if you were.
“Kieran!” You whispered angrily, shoving your shoulder against his. “Shut up.”
He heeded your advice for as long it took to get to their camp, whereupon he started begging for his life again.
“Alright, you sacks of shit! Let’s introduce you to the boys.” You were positively thrilled as your chauffeur stopped his horse and hitched it, once again slinging you and Kieran over his shoulder. From what you could see, you recognized the setting as Colter, a little mining town you’d stopped at on your way up to Ewing Basin with Colm.
“D-Don’t hurt me, please!” Kieran’s voice was shaky and afraid as Arthur walked the two of you towards one of the dilapidated cabins.
“Oh don’t worry, they’re very nice.” His sardonic tone did nothing to soothe you, and you felt Kieran’s squirming increase. He was terrified, and you reflected for a moment on how insane it was that he’d managed to survive long enough to join the O’Driscolls.
“Huh, you found the little shit, didja?” Dutch Van Der Linde in the flesh and blood- you felt your own run cold, and not just from the snow as Arthur dropped you onto the ground.
“I got him, and somethin’ a lil’ extra.”
“Good!”
You disliked that they were having this conversation around you like you weren’t there, but understood the tactic. You’d used it yourself a few times, to intimidate and frustrate whoever it was you were blatantly talking around. You tried not to let them get to you.
“Very good.” Arthur cut the rope around your feet and hands, tying you back up while Kieran was allowed freedom of his ankles.
“Welcome to your new home!” You wished you were the one being pulled into a standing position, so you could spit in Van Der Linde’s face. Would’ve served the bastard right.
“Hope you’re real happy here.”
“You want me to make them talk?” Arthur delivered this line with a kick to your spine while you laid on the ground. You groaned in pain, thinking about all the ways you could kill him when you got untied.
“Oh no, now all we’ll get is lies.”
The door of the second cabin opened, two burly looking, bearded men coming over to join the party.
“Uncle. Mr. Williamson.” Dutch greeted them warmly, clapping his gloved hands together as they grabbed Kieran.
“Tie this maggot up somewhere safe. We get him hungry, first.” You felt a boot on your hip, Dutch using it to roll you over and face him. The glare you gave him would’ve sent an O’Driscoll running for cover, but you imagined that you didn’t look too intimidating at the moment. “Leave this one here.”
“I got a saying, my friend…” Dutch broke eye contact with you, looking at Kieran with a deep-set frown. A caricature of a wise man played by a fool.
“We shoot fellas, as need shootin’. Save fellas, as need savin’. And feed ‘em, as need feedin’.” You wanted to strangle him, the mounting frustration of being so helpless getting close to the boiling point.
“We’re gonna find out what you need.” With that, Kieran was dragged away, and you were the one being hoisted up as your companion was dragged off.
“I can’t believe it!” Dutch laughed, spreading his arms out and waving a roll of paper around like a magic wand. You looked at the roll, immediately recognizing it as the map of the train route Colm was planning on robbing. Fuck. “O’Driscolls! In my camp!”
Kieran begins to shout, being hastily dragged away while Dutch takes a step in closer to you. Arthur’s grip was strong, but you still tried to get away. You couldn’t do much, if you somehow got out of the hold, but the small show of defiance was helping to release some of the pent up anger thrashing about in your system.
“I can’t believe it.” Dutch repeated himself as he gave you a self-satisfied grin. “Not only do I gave O’Driscolls in my camp! I have here, with me now...Colm O'Driscoll’s right hand man.”
He sure liked to hear himself talk. Arthur shook you a bit, just enough to assert himself.
“What do we do about this one, Dutch?”
The older man waves his hand dismissively at you as he unfurled the map, making a show of reading it directly in front of you.
“I wonder what Colm will do when he finds out we have you- he probably won’t even know it was us!” Dutch laughs to himself while you continue to be held there, waiting for some kind of dismissal, or perhaps a bullet to be fired into your head. After all, they had Kieran, why did they need you around?
“Now, son.” Dutch started, tapping the rolled map against your chest. “I hope you’ll behave yourself, while you’re here. You see-” He doesn’t get the chance to finish before a well aimed glob of spit lands just under his eye. You’re quite proud of yourself as Dutch reached to wipe his face, letting out a slow hum.
“Go fuck yourself.”
The blow isn’t unexpected, just painful. You curl in on yourself with another groan while Dutch shook out his hand. Surely, the force used to punch you must have strained him.
“Tie him up with the other one.”