A Man's Pride

Killer Wolves

The bang of a gunshot echoes throughout camp at daybreak. Crows squawk and take flight outside a nearby window. It's a grim morning, there's a breeze in the air. I want to complain about the noise until I remember the reason behind a gun being used at five in the morning. The last living member of my family, besides myself, has just been executed and I feel no remorse. Whoever did the deed will likely dump him in the swamp, the gators will make a fine meal out of him. I know that this was necessary, he would've killed us all if he was released. John doesn't know him as I do, that or he's growing softer as an attentive father to Jack. Even if John is becoming more of an empathetic soul, I don't mind. We all change with age, and if you like someone enough, you adapt to their new traits.

I can hear Dutch moving around next to me, the loud noise must've woken him up as well. He exhales deeply and rubs his sleepy eyes. "I'm guessing you heard that. I thought I told Bill to take him far out..." He pinches the bridge of his nose. I don't think either of us slept that well.

I shift my body onto my left side so I'm facing him, supporting my head with my forearm. "It's fine. I'm glad it's done, I'll rest easier knowing I won't run into him ever again."

Dutch has bags under his eyes, his hair is still slicked back with yesterday's pomade. He looks raw with exhaustion, being a leader must take so much out of a person. Sometimes I wonder if anyone truly comprehends what this man goes through while worrying, protecting and loving twenty members of his family. He detects the sympathy in my expression. "Oh wipe that worried look off your face, would you? I should be the one giving you that look right now," he says with a hoarse morning voice.

I sit up and bring my knees to my chest. "Enough talk about yesterday. We got bigger things to think about. Like the Pinkertons, Tahiti, the bank job, and..." I wish I could warn Dutch about Micah's betrayal. It kills me to know that he wouldn't buy a word of my warning, he honestly trusts that man with his life for some strange reason.

Dutch presses a finger onto my lips to silence me, I look at him questioningly. "You ain't gotta remind me of that now. Can't we just spend time together?" He's right, both of us need to remember how to enjoy life even when we're at a low point. Dutch gets up and smooths back his hair, offering me his black coat which he hadn't bothered to fold last night. All I have on is a thin nightgown, so I put it on, it's big and comfortable. I follow him onto the balcony and watch while he lights up a cigar.

My hair was in a wild, curly state at the moment. He didn't seem to mind, even when I'm covered in dirt, he doesn't look at me differently. It's strange to be equally admired at my best and my worst. Could that be a part of what love is? It sure felt like it.

"How'd we get here Dutch van der Linde?" I ask, with no bias behind my tone.

He blows a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Here? If I recall correctly, we walked." He finishes off his response with a sly wink, I roll my eyes with a smile.

"You know what I mean. Feels like ages ago since we met in Valentine. It's been what, four months? Things moved pretty quickly with us, guess that's how it works when two strong-headed fools take a liking to each other." I raise an eyebrow at his expressionless face. Sometimes it seems like Dutch has a very limited range of public personas. Angry, humorous, inspirational and charming. It was rare to witness any other emotion from him, which makes it difficult to identify when he deviates from my expectations.

"I don't see a point in dissecting something that ain't there, Anastasia. You and I are good friends who like getting closer than most folks. Don't overthink it." His manner of speaking is cold and unfamiliar. Where did this come from? Dutch led me to believe we had something special growing between us. Had he tricked me with his charm all along? Was I just like Molly, a woman he reeled in with honeyed words and attention until something newer came along? I feel sick to my stomach because Dutch just managed to make me feel so small and insignificant. I've been staring at him for a while and I can't read his precise thoughts, as much as I'd like to. Although, there's a sorrow buried deep within his dark eyes. No, he's not using me, he's building a wall to protect himself from potential heartbreak.