may i stand unshaken [Arthur Morgan × OC]

Chapter 13

The day changed into a new day. Each member of the gang continued to work and receive money, putting the notes into a small box, which went towards the prosperity of the camp. There was a little more medicine, provisions and ammunition. It often happened that someone would go out hunting and return with the carcass of some animal, and Pearson would be busy cutting up the meat for another stew, which so far tasted rather bad. It seemed that he continued to think he was feeding the sailors on the ship, but I hoped that his culinary skills would soon become much better. No one in the gang was picky about food though, as everyone knew what it was like to be without it and be happy to feel a piece of food again after times of hunger. No one complained about another move and various changes. Everyone loved the place where we were staying. In the thick of the forest and with a beautiful view, it was hard to find a camp, the close proximity of the town added to the possibilities. However, this was followed by the question: how long would it last?

Some became bounty hunters, though the numbers for catching criminals seemed small, the posters with ugly faces were plentiful. Some, for a reward, helped out on someone's farm. Once I came across a little old lady who asked me to help her and her daughter look after the garden and the cattle, for they were not strong enough for the two of them. It was hard without a man in the family, though most of them preferred to see their family and life at the bottom of a glass or bottle. Everywhere I look, there were drunkards and sadists who preferred to beat their wives instead of protecting them. For such people love didn't exist at all. I'd rather be all alone than let some piece of shit lay a hand on me.

Girls spent more time at camp. Not all of them could stand up for themselves, so they preferred to help with chores and read books in the high sun, so I decided to spend the day being lazy and resting. Susan was grumpy as usual, but she was not directing her mutterings in our direction, which gave us a chance to lie on the bedspreads, talking idly about various subjects. Mary-Beth was reading a novel, occasionally sighing languidly, covering her mouth with her hand or flapping her eyelashes in surprise. Karen was talking about something, gesticulating so vigorously that she elbowed me in the back of the head several times while I lay on her feet with my hat over my face. Tilly and Abigail chuckled softly, keeping up with the blonde's chatter. Sitting next to us was Sadie, who still seemed aloof from all of us. It was hard for her to fit in with this group of women, but we did our best to make her feel comfortable. Even today she was listening intently to another hilarious story of Karen's adventures, laughing hoarsely. One time Pearson tried to pull Sadie away from us and force her to do the cooking, but I made him leave and do it himself by throwing a large apple at his forehead. Another time, giggling, Uncle came over with a bottle of alcohol in his hands. He tried to sit down next to us and annoyingly start telling us something, but quickly scurried away while I threw tin cans at him. Girls laughed, and even Mary-Beth put her book aside to watch Uncle run away, stumbling in his own feet. He shouted that we were crazy and ill-mannered, and the men in the camp cast mocking glances at him and went on about their business.

Not really listening to the women's conversations, I picked up a man's voice. Someone was telling someone to stop doing what he was doing. I opened one eye and glanced toward the thick tree to which O'Driscoll's boy was still tied. Opposite him sat little Jack, throwing pebbles at the bandit. Man chuckled occasionally as the captive squirmed in pain and asked him to stop.

– Abby, tell your son to stop doing that, – I said, rising.

Abigail looked up from her conversation, glanced at Jack and with a heavy sigh called sternly for him to come to her. I squinted against the sun and rose to my feet, scooping up a bucket of cold water and heading over to O'Driscoll. He looked up awkwardly with small, swamp-coloured eyes, then glanced at the jug in my hands. Guys had left him wearing only black trousers and a thin white shirt. His greasy dark hair was sloppily tucked back. He was small, a little shaky.