The Dusty Shamrock ~ OC RDR2 fanfiction

Chapter 8

A/N: I have put a song from the RDR2 soundtrack at the top, whenever I put a song at the top it just sort of means it's kinda the soundtrack of the chapter. :)
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My eyes tore open, revealing the rickety prison I was enclosed in. The floor boards creaked, the walls of dirt looked like they'd come crumbling down any second. I was tied at my wrists and ankles, they'd foolishly not gagged me. Hell, were they gonna get some lip. The room I was in was poorly constructed, obviously underground. I was in a basement.

My clothes were torn. They'd done something to me and I knew it. I hoped, prayed they hadn't done something unsavoury and unspeakable.

I needed a plan. I needed one fast.

The bonds around my wrist were loose, poorly tied and I was able to easily slip my hands free.
The O'Driscolls always say it's "quantity over quality", seems by "quantity" they don't mean brains. I slipped my hands out of the prickly twine and set onto freeing my ankles. I hopped up from the floor and dusted myself off. Upon movement I discovered that they had beaten me more than I had originally thought, I ached like hell.
There was a small cupboard on my right- whilst rifling through I found my personal guns, the cattleman for Sean and Javier's knife alongside my own knife. I shoved a few other cans of food and supplies I'd found in a tattered satchel I'd found discarded on the floor. If my ears hadn't failed me, I'd heard one of the ones that'd captured me tell another to take me to the 'northern camp'. I kept a loaded pistol at side, readied in case the worst were to happen.

And it did.

My original plan of sneaking out quietly, without causing trouble, was foiled. One of them was creeping down the steps to the room I was kept in. I didn't know him, so I shot him, Which raised the alarm with the other idiots in the area. I hurled the sideboard away from the wall to use as a barricade. The O'Driscolls, one by one, dropped dead as they were shot with my bullets. My frenzy was fuelled by a splinter in my buttock, the tear in my trousers made way for the small spiny piece of wood to make itself at home in the muscle. I cursed. It fucking hurt. I plucked the minuscule dagger out of my flesh and searched the bodies that had fallen at the base of the stairs. I stormed over the bodies and hurled up the stairs, pistol at the ready. The cabin's only inhabitants that were left were three men. A portly looking gentleman, purple faced with a grey mane of hair which crawled into a set of mutton-chops aside his face who was curled into a corner with a skinny looking boy, black haired and kind-eyed (Kieran Duffy).
"Which one o' yous tore the arse part on my trousers?" I roared.
"It wasn't us ma'am" The skinny boy said with a shaky tone.
"Well it was feckin' one a' ya's" They bolted out the door before a bullet could graze them. I looked over to the last man, whom I recognised. He had the same grizzly face, scruffy facial hair and part-bald head. The same piercing eyes and a pointed nose. The man that had captured me.
"I was jus' followin' orders, Miss..." he trailed off.
"Tá súil agam go dtaitíonn ifreann duit"
"I hope hell welcomes you"
Was all I could mutter before placing the muzzle of my revolver to his temple and pulling the trigger. His blood and brain matter splattered onto my torn shirt. It didn't matter, I was gonna get a new one anyway.
I raided the cabin, I raided the whole place for anything of use. I found about $200 in the chimney, along with about $40 in loot from the dead bodies. Maybe getting kidnapped didn't always end badly, at least I'll be able to get some new clothes.

Upon walking outside, I found two horses who were still tied up. A bay thoroughbred and a black Kentucky saddler, I loaded up my loot onto the Kentucky saddler whilst I rode the thoroughbred out of the camp. Luckily, one of the bodies was wearing a leather duster coat, I took it as I was in need of something to cover up the hole which was exposing my butt.