Word count - 7717
I love Charles, and in this little story, he loves his respect. ;)
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Never did you think that you'd be tied to a tree next to an O'Driscoll.
No, that truly never did cross your mind. Yet here you were, staring out into the camp in which your capturers resided. All you could really do was watch and listen to all the shenanigans that went on as you grew hungry and cold, the ropes tied around your arms and torso restraining you in a standing position.
How did you end up in this position? It was stupid, really.
You had been on your own for years, making no small name for yourself. With bounties placed on your head you were most definitely not a great person, yet definitely not as bad as a few of these folks. It was hard to make money, to rob at least, all by yourself, so when you stumbled upon this camp while hunting and noticed people putting money in an unguarded box you thought it would be easy pickings.
How wrong you were.
You almost got away until a little boy saw you slipping past the tent he was in and screamed bloody murder. You were on the ground immediately after that.
So now, three long days later, you're here. The O'Driscoll boy tied to the tree next to you constantly begged for food, water, anything, and you kept silent. You had no intention to reveal anything to their leader, a big man with a thick moustache, fancy clothes that you had to admit suited him, anything in fear of them turning you in. Not after you heard a burly man addressed as Arthur talking about bounty hunting.
It wasn't like they didn't have bounties.
You stared at your feet, waiting for another round of questions you were going to leave unanswered. You definitely felt stupid for trying to take that money, you could have been eating on a rabbit right now if you hadn't, money or not. Your weapons were deep in the woods next to the remains of a small brush fire not too far from here. If they'd just let you go, you'd be reunited with what you had left, as they confiscated your pistol and varmint rifle you had with you at the time. It was a relief you hadn't brought your precious bow along on your hunt.
Your stomach rumbled, the thought of food elevating that tight feeling of hunger. Shaking your head, you looked back up to observe the outlaws once again. You didn't quite expect to see so many women amongst them and the oldest had a real mean look in her eye, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for the blonde woman who, as you learned, recently lost her husband and home to the O'Driscolls. Your eyes landed on the boy next to you, a feeling of superiority in your chest, knowing damn well these people hated his lot just as much as you.
He was looking around wildly for the next person who would be kind enough to give him food to walk by, glancing your way, then after a double take, furrowed his brows. "Whatchu looking at me like that for?"
Your eyes narrowed, jaw tight. Oh no, you did not like the O'Driscolls at all. Not after, quite like Mrs. Adler, your house had been burned to a crisp, not before they murdered your family right before your eyes and attempting to do so to you. The only thing that saved you that day was the rush of adrenaline in your veins and a rage that sparked and had never gone out since.
The boy had such a terrified look in his eye you would think he'd have been killed off by them long before this. "W-Well you stop it!" He stammered after no response.
A deep chuckle of amusement before you caused him to look forward and quiver. Yet you, burning with resentment, kept your eyes on him. You didn't need to see to know who it was, that voice belonged to none other than their leader, Dutch. "Seems our little thief here don't take well to your lot either, O'Driscoll."
