Chapter Text
Davey 十
Then, as we were fleeing east over the Grizzlies, an almighty storm hit us.
Davey Callander, who got shot in the gut on the raid, passed away, it was brutal to watch, and the rest of us nearly froze, but we found shelter and have been resting here in some old abandoned mining town while we await the thaw.
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Hosea kicked in the door of an abandoned cabin, pointing his gun into the darkness of the building. Cautiously, he stepped up and through the doorway, lifting the lantern in his other hand, and assessed the room to find it empty but drier than the weather outside. Holstering his gun, he leaned out to call to the approaching caravan.
“Bring him in here.”
The gang members filed through the door. First came Abigail, followed by Bill Williamson and Arthur carrying Davey on a board. After them, Reverend Swanson entered, then Tilly ushering Jack. Dutch moved into the doorway, waving in the others.
As soon as she entered the room, Miss Susan Grimshaw, the honorary mother of the gang, took to calling out orders. “Miss Gaskill, get that fire lit quick. Miss Jones, bring in whatever blankets we have. Mr. Pearson, see what we’ve got in terms of food.”
Abigail leaned over Davey where he had been laid in the back of the room. She had to make the announcement that everyone had been dreading to hear aloud, though they all had known it was coming.
“Davey’s dead.” Her stomach dropped as she spoke the truth she had been trying desperately not to tell herself during the gruelling trek up the mountains.
“There was nothing more you could have done,” Reverend Swanson told her.
Coins were placed on Davey’s eyes to hold them shut.
“What are we gonna do?” Hosea asked Dutch. “We need supplies.”
“Well, first of all, you’re gonna stay here, and you are gonna get yourself warm,” Dutch told him. There was a deeply-rooted sentiment of love in those words. “Now I sent John and Micah scoutin’ out ahead. Arthur and I, we’re gonna ride out, see if we can find one of ‘em.”
Arthur looked at him in disbelief. “In this?”
“Just for a short bit. I don’t see what other choice we have.”
Dutch turned to address the rest of the gang, huddled in the small room.
“Listen... listen to me, all of you, for a moment. Now, we’ve had… well, a bad couple of days.” He paused, swallowing against the stinging of his cheeks as blood began to flow back into them. “I loved Davey… Jenny… Sean, Mac, they may 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. But, we’re gonna ride out and we are gonna find some food.”
Arthur nodded solemnly.
“Everybody,” Dutch continued, “we’re safe now. There ain’t nobody followin’ 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.” He paused to think. “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!”
Dutch grabbed the lantern from Hosea and turned toward the door.
“Come on, Arthur.”
Arthur touched Hosea’s back as he moved past him to follow Dutch.
Miss Grimshaw piped up to resume calling out orders. “All right, we’ve got some work to do.”
Dutch and Arthur stepped down into the snow outside as the door closed behind them.
“Well, we ain’t run into them yet, so they both must’a headed down the hill.”
“Sure.” Arthur lit a cigarette. “Hey, I ain’t had time to ask. What really went down back there on that boat?”
Dutch’s dark eyes reflected the light from their lanterns and the reddish glow from Arthur’s cigarette as he sucked on it. “We missed you, that’s what happened. Come on.”
They began to make their way out to the trail as Charles Smith trudged into the camp, leading a pair of horses. He called out to Dutch and Arthur. “Hey, you need horses?”
“Oh yeah,” Dutch said, “and Mr. Smith, get yourself indoors.”
Dutch mounted his horse, The Count, a moody Arabian as white as the snow around him. Arthur mounted Taima, Charles’ mild-mannered Appaloosa.
“You need to rest that hand,” Dutch told Charles. He’d burnt his hand during the disaster back in Blackwater, and now had it wrapped up in bandages.
“I’ll live.”
“Get indoors, son! I… we... need you strong.”
Charles wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.” He began to make his way toward the cabin where the rest of the gang was holed up as Dutch and Arthur slowly began to ride out of camp.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“Ain’t sure what we’re gonna find out here, Dutch.”
“We have to try. Stay close, we’ll do our best to stick to the trail.”
Arthur squinted against the snow, which was being blown right into his face by the harsh wind. “This goddamn weather.”
“Been two days or more like this now. Oh, it has to blow over soon.” They approached a stream. An icy, snow-blown bridge crossed over it. “Careful over this bridge here.” They slowly crossed over the bridge, the wind blowing from the side now.
“Ride next to me, son,” Dutch told Arthur, “don’t wanna lose you.”
Arthur tapped Taima’s side with his heels, picking up speed to ride beside Dutch.
“Can’t believe we lost Davey too,” Arthur said when they’d made some ground.
“He’s the last one, Arthur. No more. We need to get those people warm and fed.”
“‘Least we don’t need to worry about Pinkertons tailin’ us in this.”
“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.”
“We got fire and shelter, that’s a start.” Arthur paused, thinking. “And what about the money? Please tell me you at least got the money before it all went to hell on that boat.”
Dutch disregarded his question. “Wait, is that someone comin’ towards us?”
A light was now faintly visible through the blustery snow. They cautiously slowed, lifting their lanterns.
“You up ahead!” Dutch called. “Who’s there?”
The approaching light and horse came into view, and the rider was now visible.
“Micah,” Dutch greeted.
There was a snarl on Micah Bell’s face, meant to resemble a smile, though whether this unpleasant expression was an effect of the biting cold or just simply his hideous face, Arthur did not know.
“Gentlemen.”
“Found anything?” Dutch asked.
“I think so.” He brought his horse to a halt before them. “Found a little homestead down thataway.”
“Okay. Anyone home?”
“Sure. Place is blazing with light and noise. Sounded like a party.”
“Let’s go see.”
Micah pulled at the reins to turn his horse around. “Follow me.” They made their way back in the direction from whence he’d come. After a minute, he cleared his throat to ask, “How’s Davey doin’?”
“Ah, he didn’t make it,” Dutch told him. “Nor did little Jenny.”
Arthur rode at the back.
“That’s too bad.” Micah’s voice was sucked away by the wind. “Davey was a real fighter. Both of them Callander boys is, or…” Bitterly, he chuckled. “Was.”
“Yeah,” Dutch said solemnly.
“And Mac and Sean?”
“We don’t know.”
“Quite a business.”
Arthur curled his lip in distaste for Micah’s disrespect for their fallen members.
They pushed on in silence for a while, then Dutch said, “I’m glad you’re all right, Micah.”
“Always.”
As they rode up a hill, the wind started to pick up, harder than it had been all night. Arthur had to shout for Dutch to hear him. “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,” Dutch relayed.
“He’ll be fine,” Arthur said bitterly. “Things always turn out right for that boy.”
“I hope… Mac and Sean are still out there somewhere too,” Dutch said with a pause. “Hey, Arthur, let me take the rear, you move up.” He fell back, letting Arthur take his place in the middle.
Now that they were within earshot of one another, Arthur asked, “You sure about this, Micah?”
“Mr. Morgan,” Micah replied with a sardonic tone, “I never thought I would be so pleased to see your face. Been kind of… lonely out here. Where’s everyone else?”
“Old mining camp, back up the hill.”
“Huddled around a fire waitin’ for daddy to put food on the table. I’ve said it before, we got too many mouths to feed.”
The amount of disrespect Micah had towards everyone in the gang made Arthur angry, but this weather was far too draining for him to do much about it right now. “Well we got a few less now, so you should be happy.”
“That ain’t fair, Arthur. I earn my share. You think it’s unreasonable to expect others to do the same?”
Arthur decided to change the subject before he got too pissed off. “So, this house… you speak to the people there already?”
Micah interrupted him. “Okay, let’s keep it down now, gentlemen. It’s just up ahead.”
“Snuff and stash those lanterns, boys,” Dutch said as he rode up beside them. “Best you two lie low on this.”
Arthur and Micah turned out their lanterns and packed them into their saddlebags. The three of them looked over the ridge. There was a house below, with windows emitting warm light, which illuminated the snow blown up around the sides of the house.
“Okay,” Dutch said, “let’s head down there.”
Carefully, they began to ride down the hill towards the house.