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

chapter 34; no rest for the wicked

"It was your daughter and the Adler widow." Herr Strauss answered Dutch, his thick German accent carrying through the small shack. The group had welcomed the leader home with open arms, pouring him coffee and feeding him 'til his belly protruded, engorged and round. Only Arthur had been smart enough to keep a distance, remembering the things he had witnessed during their time overseas. This man was no longer the same Dutch that Arthur had once loved, trusted and worshiped. He had watched him change and not for the better.

"They got us away from the camp before the Pinkertons showed up. Then, Ms. Van der Linde and Mr. Smith drove away the degenerates who were living here." Strauss continued the tale, the group swarming around Dutch in a tight circle, the glow of dim lanterns shining on their sweat slicked faces.

"We owe you!" Dutch booms, offering his tin mug in the air at the proposal of a toast, pulling his daughter tight to his side. "Thank you. Thank you all."

Many followed him, raising their drinks to their returned leader but not all were so convinced. "It's been real hard Dutch... we... we been surviving, but only just. What we gon' do?" Tilly drawls, arms crossed and face taught.

"Things have been tough, there ain't no doubt about that. Trust me..." His breath momentarily hitches, mulling over his next words. "I am gonna get us out of here. This ain't over."

"Course you will. You always do." Charlotte affirms, giving her father a gentle squeeze around his thinned waist. It took them years to build up a father daughter trust bond but once it was built, it was going to be mighty hard to break. Countless times she'd seen her fathers weaknesses come through his tough exterior, seen the darkness that stirs beneath. She'd even seen that same darkness deep within herself. But it was her faith in him that kept her blind and willing to dismiss his flaws. Even when those flaws caused him to fail her and those that they loved.

"Ain't no one interested in hearing about our adventures?" Micah grumbles.

"Guess we're more interested in escaping the hangmen on our tail." Charlotte doesn't miss a beat, biting right back at him. She takes Dutch's now empty mug and heads towards the fire spitting just outside.

"Cheerful nymph of the prairie, ain't you, Charlotte?" He sneers, snapping his teeth at her as she charges past him.

"Oh sure..." She grits her teeth, jaw grinding to withhold all the things she'd like to say to him as she fills the mug with hot coffee. "My fair heart jumps for joy at the sight of you, Micah."

Returning to the room, she hands Dutch the cup. "We buried Hosea, Dutch. Charles and I stole his body from the law one night, gave him a proper burial. Lenny too. It was real nice."

The group falls quiet again as it always does at the mention of fallen members, no matter how recent or how painful the loss. They all felt it and always would.

The thin shack door flies open again, heavy footsteps thundering against the floorboards. "Well here you is!" Bill Williamson booms. "I asked everyone I could find and finally, someone knew, said you damn fools were holed up out in the swamp." He takes deep heavy breaths as if trudging through the mud had been the hardest thing he ever did. "Shit, get me a drink or something!" He barks at the first female face he sees but it's the wrong one.

"Get your own damn drink!" Sadie spits back.

"In our absence, Mrs. Adler has been looking after things. Now sit down, Mr. Williamson." Dutch warns, offering him his own cup of coffee to satisfy Bill's ill temper but there's no time for him to even catch his breath before another voice sounds from outside.

"This is Pinkerton Detective Agency! On behalf of Cornwall Kerosene and Tar, the United States Government and the Commonwealth of West Elizabeth, we are here to arrest you."