Loyalty Divided

Chapter Fifty Two

Arthur stood with Dutch and Hosea, taking in the new surroundings at Horseshoe Overlook. The gang had finally descended from the mountains, leaving behind the cold, harsh landscape for the rolling plains of the Heartlands. The sun was high, casting a warm light over the clearing where they had chosen to set up camp.

"I think this'll work for us, Arthur. For now, anyway. Here we are, gentlemen. Home sweet home," Hosea said, his voice carrying a note of optimism as he squinted into the distance, shading his eyes with a hand.

Dutch nodded in agreement, surveying the area with a satisfied smile, the lines on his face softening. "You weren't wrong, Hosea. This place is perfect."

Hosea, ever the cautious planner, sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. "I hope so."

Dutch clapped him on the back, the sound echoing in the open space. "Gentlemen, we have survived," he said, his voice firm and resolute.

Hosea's response was measured, his eyes scanning the horizon. "For now."

"Now it is time to prosper," Dutch declared, his eyes alight with the vision of their future. He took a deep breath, as if inhaling the promise of the land around them.

Arthur listened, his gaze drifting over the gang members who were already busying themselves with setting up camp. The women were unpacking supplies, and the men were erecting tents and shelters. He couldn't shake the memories of Blackwater-the chaos, the bloodshed, and the constant feeling of being hunted. But here, in this moment, there was a glimmer of hope, a chance to rebuild.

Hosea wasn't ready to let go of the past just yet. "Arthur and I were about to prosper in Blackwater. We were on to something big... then Micah got you all excited about that ferry and here we are," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

Dutch's face grew serious, his usual smile fading. "We have all made mistakes over the years, Hosea... every last one of us. But I kept us together... kept us alive... kept the nooses off our neck," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper.

Hosea looked down, his hands trembling slightly as he clenched them into fists. "I guess I'm just worried. I ain't got that long, Dutch. I want folks safe before I go. And now we are stuck... east of the Grizzlies and out of money... and a long way from our dream of virgin land in the west."

Dutch placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I know, my brother, but we are safe. We make a bit of money here, then we move again... head out around them, be west of Uncle Sam... in a few months buy some land."

"I hope so," Hosea replied, though his worry was evident in the furrow of his brow and the tightness of his jaw.

Dutch gestured to the landscape around them with a sweeping motion of his arm. "Would you just look around you? This world has its consolations," he said, his voice carrying a note of awe.

Leopold Strauss approached, his face set in determination, the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose catching the light. "Gentlemen, I'm going to head into the local town, and you know... see if I can strike up a little business," he said, his tone businesslike.

Dutch nodded, his attention shifting. "Of course, Herr Strauss. I prefer robbing banks to usury... seems more dignified somehow." He then turned to the rest of the gang, raising his voice to carry across the clearing. "Now, everyone put your tools down for a moment, come on gather round, quickly now. I know that things have been tough... but we are safe now, and we are far too poor. So it is time for everyone to get to work."

Hosea added, his voice calm but firm, "Get to work, but stay out of trouble. Remember, we are itinerant workers."

Dutch continued, "Laid off when they shut down our factory to the north. Now, get out there, and see what you can find. Uncle, Reverend Swanson... no more passengers. It is time for everyone to earn their keep."