Know My Name - a RDR2 Story

Tactics and Trains

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!: brief mentions of guns
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Guns? Check.
Change of clothes? Check.
A book? Check.
Money? Check.
What else could she possibly be missing?

Kam had started packing the night before, shoving only what she needed in a small duffel bag before tying it to Brutus. She planned to leave early in the morning, just before anyone--including Hosea--would be awake. The day before they would leave, Kam made an agreement with Ford to hold Brutus until she could come and collect him. Ford, being bribed with money and a full bottle of Lemoyne Moonshine, agreed.

Normal people would leave their horses in the stables, but with how much stable tax was increasing over the years, Kam would rather die than pay that extra 50-cents.

The plan was: leave Clemens Point early in the morning, leave Brutus with Ford right outside Valentine, catch a train back to Rhodes, meet Brock at the train station, and finally, go to Chicago.

She'd been to Chicago before, but that was ten years ago--give or take two years. Last time she went, the city was still converting from kerosene lamps to electrical power for lighting. She had no idea what it looked like now, nor did she know if people still rode horses or if they walked everywhere. It was going to take a couple of hours to get used to the changes up North.

Save tomorrow's problems for tomorrow. And God, how she wanted to. She wanted to obtain a full night of rest before she was forced to wake up at an early hour just to get on a train that was less than comfortable. Luckily, trains had been updated to be able to have beds inside them.

Yes, it was a surprise to Kam too. Beds! Full on mattresses and pillows! Not the dirt ground or a weak cot with questionable stains, nor was it just a cushioned seat with Dutch van der Linde across from her. A real bed. It goes without saying that Kam was very excited about sleeping on a train.

The night before wasn't anything too special to gawk about. She hung outside of camp the entire day, hunting, fishing- whatever; she just wanted to be away from camp. Chicago was bound to be gushing with people and lights and sounds, so Kam was mentally preparing herself for the constant migraines.

She still hadn't told Dutch.

The moment she realized that the only person who knew about the Chicago job was Arthur, it was already 9pm- perhaps later. He'd already gone to bed, probably next to Molly, and something told Kam that waking him up wasn't the best idea. Dutch was grumpy when he woke up, Kam found. After spending a handful of days with the man on a train, getting to see all his flaws early in the morning with greasy hair and deep eyebags, she never wanted to see it again- or smell it again.
Of course, the difference between his pomaded hair and his greasy hair was slim, but Kam somehow found a way to tell how. And the only way to tell when he had bathed last was the smell. Sour, salty, and thin sweat vs. the thick scent of pine and something green was a huge difference.

Kam had been used to rancid stenches for years. Twenty, to be exact. She got used to the hefty smell of cigars since she lived with the Shaull's, the smell of blood since she was 13, and the God-awful smell of lack of a shower since Colm picked her up.

Twenty years with Colm was hard to think about. Everything felt like a blur, even if it wasn't. She still remembered every event. Every robbery, every face, every murder, every stolen item, every smell and sight. All of it. She supposed her long-term memories had something to do with her reoccurring nightmares. Her nightmares weren't too severe, they were just short clips of things she'd done in the past. The Cornwall's were the most repetitive, them and Colm casting her out.