Dutch's Daughter [[RDR2 Arthur Morgan x OC]]

chapter 9; sheep, goats and other wild things

"Thanks for all your help... can't herd sheep, can't swim..." Arthur groans the sarcastic remark at John as they approach the Valentine saloon.

"Give it a rest, will ya? I ain't Lottie and we ain't kids no more." John barks.

"'Spose we never really was."

The two enter the Valentine saloon to find Dutch, Herr Strauss and Charlotte waiting for them at the bar. They join the trio, taking seats on the uncomfortable barstools. Arthur's eyes avoid Charlotte at all costs, keeping their focus on the bar where he's crossed his arms.

"Where have you two been?" Dutch leans forward to look Arthur in the face.

"Working, Marston's thing."

"Good...and?"

"Just waiting on some money from sheep we rustled."

Dutch gives a slow approving nod, turning to face John next. "John, my boy, why don't you and Leopold here go make sure there's no funny business?" He pats the man firmly on the back.

John shrugs, a slight grumble under his breath as he stands, barely having a rest from the job he'd just finished. The two follow orders and step out of the saloon onto the porch connecting several storefronts outside. Dutch waves down the bartender and orders three whiskeys. Charlotte silently winces at the sight of the full glass of murky brown devil liquid in front of her. Her last few run ins with the substance hadn't ended terribly well.

"Nothing like talking to old Strauss to make you want to blow your own brains out. I should have left him where I found him all those years ago. Bookish little Austrian fresh off the boat, his eyes out on stalks."

"Van der Linde finishing school has some strange graduates." Charlotte lifts her glass to toast, wishing John was still there to be included.

"That it does. To your good health." Dutch smirks and raises his glass with his two protégé's.

Full glasses collide with the sticky bar table top, spilling slightly before meeting the trios lips and burning their throats celebratorily. A loud crash followed by a scream sounds from outside, the almost sweet moment shared between the three coming to a crashing halt as their attention is stolen. Dutch leans back to look out the large front windows.

"Van der Linde! You don't know me but you keep robbing me. My name is Leviticus Cornwall. I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you. Get out here, before I have these men killed!" A clearly drunk stranger is bellering outside, a team of men with him. Dutch swallows the last of his drink before making a smooth dive to the window's edge, his company following him. Weapons drawn, they peer over ever so carefully to see the commotion. John and Leopold have been taken hostage, thick, muscular arms wrapped around their throats with barrels pointed to their skulls.

"Shit... what do you think, Arthur?" Dutch turns to him.

"Start spinning some yarn... we'll think of something."

Dutch scoffs but doesn't see any other option. He pushes the saloon doors open and lifts his arms to a wide open stance. Once again, his natural talent at charm comes in handy and he starts talking Cornwall's ears off, feeding him his stage name and feigning he has no idea who Dutch is. Charlotte looks to Arthur while loading her revolver.

"What's the plan?"

"You take John... I'll get Strauss." He crosses the door to the adjacent window, picking a spot with a clear view. Giving Charlotte a nod, they take aim and with a simultaneous deep breath, bullets sting through the air, burrowing deep in the enemies skulls, setting the two captive gang members free. Dutch pulls out his own gun, assisting in taking down the remaining few as Leviticus bolts to safety. Before they can celebrate the victory, Dutch charges down the road after the cowards, Arthur and Charlotte naturally following.