𝘊𝘖𝘕 𝘖𝘍 𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘎𝘌 | ᴘʀᴇ ʀᴅʀ2

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rosalie finished weaving her hair into a thick plait, the ends of her hair hitting her mid back as she flicked it over her shoulder and placed her father's black cowboy hat on her head. She meandered over to the outside of her tent where she left her fishing pole and a tin of bait. She stuck the tin under her arm and shifted the pole against her shoulder as she walked over to the fire.

"I'm going fishing," Rosalie said to Dutch, Hosea, and Susan who sat around the fire on boxes or a log. Dutch smoked a cigar, his gaze shifting to her as she walked over while Hosea read his book.

Susan ran a thread through one of John's trousers. She made a face, looking up from her work. "And why is that? I asked you to clean the shirts in that bin over there." She said, pointing to the pile of soapy shirts hanging outside the bucket and against the washboard.

"Those aren't my clothes?" Rosalie said with a raised brow as though Susan had asked a dumb question. "Why would I clean something that isn't mine?"

Susan's gaze narrowed. "Because we all gotta chip in, Miss."

"I do chip in. By hunting and fishing, along with bringing leads to the table that get us money." Rosalie snapped back, her grip tightening around the fishing pole against her shoulder. "I brought back those rabbits we ate last night. No one else brought anything for lunch either. That was me!"

Susan scoffed. "I don't care what you brought back for lunch or dinner. You need to help with other chores around here to earn your keep."

Rosalie's face screwed up in irritation. "What are you talking about?! How come you're getting on to me? Arthur hasn't been here at all, and at least I'm doing something—!"

"I don't care what Arthur has been doing, Miss, that has nothing to do with you!" Susan snapped, getting to her feet now. The trousers hung by her hand, the thread in the other as she met her stare head-on.

Hosea sighed and shook his head, refusing to get involved as he looked down at his book. John came around from the other side of the tent he shared with Arthur, his gun holster in hand and a rag in the other. He had been busy cleaning it but came to see what the commotion was.

Dutch sighed and rubbed between his eyes with his thumb, the smoking cigar between his fingers. He looked between the two women with a pained expression. "Please, ladies, can we not shout at one another? Is gettin' along so hard?" He asked in exasperation.

"Dutch, would you please tell her she needs to chip in more?! We can't be supportin' freeloaders!" Susan cried, throwing her hand up with the trousers in Rosalie's direction.

This set Rosalie off. Susan was a fine woman, most of the time, but wow, could she be downright nasty.

"Freeloader?!" Rosalie cried, looking at Susan as though she had grown two heads. "I was here before you, mind you! I bring in leads, like I just said if you would open your damn ears! Leads, that bring you money, that pays for your shit! Along with food that keeps you from starving!" She shouted, her cheeks turning red from anger.

Dutch stood and waved his hands in the open air, stepping between the two women like he was fending off wild animals from attacking one another. "Ladies! Please! Enough!"

Hosea grimaced and looked up from his book. He placed his hand on his knee and glanced between the two, before his gaze settled on Grimshaw. "Just leave the girl alone, Susan. She ain't gonna be here washin' dishes with you 'cause she's proved herself useful in other ways. I'm sorry, but you gotta let this rest." He said.

Susan scoffed and rolled her eyes, about to argue with him, but Dutch shook his head, cutting her off before she could begin her sentence.

"Enough of this," Dutch glanced over to John and nodded in Rosalie's direction. "John, go with Rosalie. You know how to fish, son?" he asked.