Birds of a Feather

Dutch

'The power...the kingship we seek is in us and if we deny it, then we make others our Lord.'

Dutch, sitting on the porch, paused a moment in his readings and reveled in those words. If we deny it.

Whenever he read that line, a thrill of excitement shot through him. It was as if Mr. Miller were writing the text of Dutch's heart, in a more compelling manner than Dutch could ever express himself.

He flipped to another page he'd dog-eared when he wanted inspiration.

'Men are fixated on greed, on desire, and on the acquisition of experiences or pleasures but the ability to acquire. People are fixated on wealth. Man is reduced to the desire for desire. Wanting is all that matters. Not loving, not being, not having, but wanting. We are killers for desire.'

Killers for desire. Yes.

"Dutch." Micah suddenly intruded on his contemplation, his shadow casting darkness over Miller's insights. Micah gestured wildly at a wagon being prepared for departure. "Morgan's just told me we ain't doin' the bank job today."

Dutch turned another page, suffocating his annoyance at an interruption. "Yes, Mr. Bell."

Micah didn't say anything for a moment as he stared. "Then when we doing it?"

"We're not," Dutch answered placidly. "Arthur and Hosea are working their own angle. They believe they can get most of the money without the robbery."

"How much?" hissed Micah immediately.

"Fifty thousand."

"That ain't half what we can get robbing the damn place."

"I know it," Dutch said in growing irritation. His meditative state was broken so he set his book down and gave Micah his full attention. "And I'd make the arguments for it if Hosea didn't so graciously remind me of the last time we ruined his set-up. Now, he wants to do it his way first."

Hosea had been insistent on it, in fact, laying out his reasons before Dutch could understand what he'd been speaking of in the first place. In the end, Dutch was reasonable and could see the benefit of a basic scam. Besides, Hosea had assured him, if his scheme didn't work, or if the take was not as much as promised, they'd go all in on the bank robbery tomorrow as originally planned.

"How they doin' it?" asked Micah persistently.

"I have no idea."

Dutch hadn't bothered hearing the details. He hadn't been feeling good about the bank job even with Bronte dead. Hosea and Arthur said the cops weren't nothing, but he still had the bump to prove they'd put up a hell of a fight. If those two thought they could hatch a better plan, by all means, they could try all they wanted.

"And you trust Morgan to handle this?" Micah snarled. "He ain't a thinker."

"That's why Hosea's doing the thinking and Arthur's executing. As per usual."

"If you say so, boss, but that don't explain what it looks like to me."

Dutch crossed his arms and reclined in his chair. "And what's that, Mr. Bell?"

"Morgan and the old man were all for your plan until that woman got here. I heard it was all her idea."

Dutch tensed, feeling his eye twitch. "Was it now?"

"I got a better idea." Micah slid in the empty chair next to him and leaned in close. He motioned disdainfully with his hand. "We let Morgan make his little plans with the womenfolk. And we'll make our own."