Know My Name - a RDR2 Story

Colm's Right Hand

Let me tell you a story about a young woman who fell into two crowds: the good and the bad.
Of course, there are pros and cons to each category, but I suppose it only depends on the way you look at it...

TW!: guns, death, violence, kidnapping, smoking, swearing
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"Jesus... it's been 8 hours! Let us take a goddamn break, woman!"

"It's either clean or go out and find some work, James! You wanna be found by the Pinkerton's?" Colm's right-hand woman was hard working and loved working others to the bone. It was in her job description. Her favorite part of her job description, to be exact.

"And what the hell are you doing? While we're out here working our asses off, you're doing pottery? You should be out here doing as much work as the rest of us, even if you are a female!" another O'Driscoll yelled as multiple started to swarm the woman at the round table. Six men, all taller than her, who smelt like beer, whiskey, cigarettes, and horse shit all hovering around the slimmer woman. The way he called her 'a female' reminded Kam of why she cut her hair in the first place.

Being a woman was fine, about as fine as it can get in 1899. Sure, they didn't have any rights, say in the government, nor the ability to own property, but she was lucky enough that Colm saw through all of that, even if it was all for money in the end. She still owes Colm nearly $2300, paying off her debt one job at a time. When Colm didn't need her to watch over the camp, she was out making money off the Bounty Board by a Sheriff's Office.

The first time she applied for taking in a bounty, she was denied almost immediately because of her sex. She immediately went to camp, cut off all her hair, and rode back there the next day. This time, because of her appearance and sudden change in hair style, she was practically handed the job and pushed out the door, she made a couple bucks off that job. And thus, Kambria became Kam.

"Charlie! Will you tell me how many explosives we have in the crate over there!" she yelled out to one of the members without looking up from the circular clay trinket. She made sure not to get any of her cigar ashes in the clay, puffing out a cloud of smoke after every lite and holding it with the corner of her mouth.

"Uhhh... We've got 'bout seventeen!" Charlie looked into a brown, wooden crate, thought for a moment, and then answered with a point of his finger. All the men seemed to turn from O'Driscoll to O'Driscoll, back and forth between the two, watching as their conversation unrolled.

"And will you be so kind as to tell everyone here who makes the damn things!" Kam put down a finished crust of an unfinished bomb, washing her dusty hands in the metal bucket by her legs as she yelled across the camp.

"...You do..." he sighed, followed by several other groans of annoyance.
"And there you fucking have it." Kam nodded her head with sass and stood up to grab the rest of her materials from her room.

Kam wiped her hands off on a dirty rag with stains from her previous project, which hung from her bed frame. Kam, being the demolitionist expert, always tended to keep explosives in her room. She loved the idea of having them close by without anyone but herself touching them, which made sense seeing as she grew up around men who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Kam took off her hat and set it by the bed, it was a lot hotter today than it was yesterday.

Speaking of yesterday, Colm still wasn't back.
It seemed reasonable for Kam to worry a little bit about him. I mean, he was like a father to her. He raised her on his own, protected her when she needed protection, taught her when she needed to be taught, talked down to her when she got too cocky. He was more of a father than her biological father ever was, or what she remembered of Mr. Shaull anyhow.