The Angel Butcher of Rio Bravo: An RDR2 Story

v. "I'd live and die for this gang"

Arthur.

"Please, please stop this. You've won, isn't that enough?" Arthur turned his head, his fist still cocked to pummel into the face of Valentine's resident tough Tommy, drooling in the mud under him, to take in the small man imploring him to end things.

"Don't know, sometimes it's never enough," he said lowly, relishing the man's face turn from worry to terror.

"P-please," the man stammered, his voice defeated, "just leave him be." Arthur looked from the brute underneath him to the man trembling before him and huffed a sigh, stepping up and off of the man's chest and rubbing at his bruised knuckles.

"If you're gonna be all upset about it," he said, looking beyond the man nodding in fearful thanks to spot two familiar faces: Dutch, who shook his head in good-natured admonishment, and Josiah Trelawny, a longtime, foppish contact of the gang who caused problems often as much as he came in handy. Arthur dully wondered what it'd be this time.

"Making friends, Arthur?" Josiah called out.

"You know it," he gruffed back, wiping at his mouth, which throbbed from the few punches Tommy had landed before Arthur'd gained the upper hand. He extended his hand to Josiah for a shake, and noted his slight trepidation before taking it in his white glove, covered in blood and muck as it was.

"Certainly one way to settle in, my boy," Dutch chuckled, leaning against a post holding up the awning outside Valentine's General Store and withdrawing a cigar from his pocket. Arthur felt slightly scolded, glad of the mud around his ears to cover their growing red.

He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Trelawny. "So, to what do we owe the pleasure? Thought you were off to New York."

"And miss all this glamour, Arthur?" He crowed, gesturing grandly around him. Bill, Charles, and Javier joined them, having picked themselves out of their own fights in the Valentine saloon. "Ah, hello, boys. You'd be interested in this as well." Trelawny looked around and leaned forward, whispering surreptitiously: "I just came from looking for you all in Blackwater. Turns out you're none too popular out there."

Dutch puffed on his cigar, remarking thoughtfully, "Sure ain't."

Arthur added, "Left a lot of money out there."

"And young Sean, it seems." Trelawny always had this infuriating way of delivering news, and he knew it; watching the men around him stiffen, look upon him with much more interest.

"Yes, yes, ta-dah, you old magician," Dutch rolled his eyes. "Our Sean, really? You found him out there?"

Trelawny nodded. "He's being held by some bounty hunters down there, negotiating a price, it seems like. Looks like they're about to move him."

Dutch appeared deep in thought, his thick eyebrows furrowed, the cigar smoke ambling around his face. "Well, we've got to go in after him. Charles, you think you could scout out the situation, carefully?" Charles nodded. "Javier, why don't you follow Josiah here in. Arthur, head back to camp and get yourself cleaned up, then meet up with the rest."

"Sure," Arthur nodded, his fingers to his lips, about to whistle for Buster.

"And Arthur?" Dutch continued, and Arthur turned back. "Take Miss Nilsen with you? She might be able to help talk you boys out of trouble should you run into some."

"Sure, OK," he repeated, but there was little joy in it.

*

The day was bright and cloudless as Arthur and Tine crossed over the Upper Montana River, but a low thrill roiled in his stomach all the same, riding into where they were wanted by the law, the belly of the beast.