Outlaws - An American Youth - [Charles Smith x OC]

Chapter 23 - First cracks

When I woke up, I immediately felt that we were no longer in the south. The heat was no longer stifling, and it was much easier to breathe. I could hear everyone busy. Still in the mists of sleep and fever, I slowly straightened up. We must have arrived several hours ago, judging by the progress of the installation. No one had woken me up. I was useless to them with my injured arm, why bother waking me up. As I rubbed my eyes with my good hand, Arthur's head appeared at the end of the wagon.

"So you're finally awake?"

I gave him a sleepy smile. He came over to help me get off. Then he gave me his arm to walk, giving me a tour of the camp. I did not lose a crumb of the view. We were now in the middle of majestic trees, which gave us shade and protection. He made me sit on a rock that overlooked the river below. This natural bench was perfectly placed. I smiled and, with my eyes closed, I breathed fresh air. Opening them again, I saw Arthur's worried face.

"It's going to be alright now, Arthur.

- I... Yes, I guess. I don't know. There's all these tensions. And Dutch... Dutch acts strangely.

- Is this the first time this has happened?

- I suppose Hosea kept things under control. I don't know...

- What is the plan now?"

He couldn't answer me, an agitation diverting his attention. Shouts gathered us all in the middle of the camp. Molly. Completely drunk. Found by Uncle in a pock in Saint-Denis. Now she was there, spitting her drunken anger in Dutch's face. And suddenly, words that froze our blood. She had spoken. To Ross and Milton. To the Pinkerton.

"I loved you, you goddamn bastard! Go on and shoot me."

Arthur was trying to calm Dutch down, to convince him to let her go. She was just crazy. And for a moment, I thought he was going to listen to him. But a loud blow rang out. Miss Grimshaw had used her rifle, killing the pretty redhead on the spot.

"She knew the rules Arthur, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

She started yelling orders at everyone, telling us to get back to work. I walked discreetly towards the horses. I felt weak and could not do much, but I did not want to lie down while the camp was plunged in this deleterious climate. Caressing my mare, I tried to understand what had just happened. I felt sad for Molly. She was in love with Dutch. She believed in him. But he only saw her as a toy, a hobby that could be replaced with a snap of a finger. Still, this did not justify her behavior.

I was angry. Without her, Hosea and Lenny would still be alive. Without her, the robbery would have worked, the last few weeks would not have happened, and we would be living the good life on a paradise island. Without her, there would be no bullet wound in my arm.

Exhausted by my injury and the ambient tension, I put my head against the neck of my mare. I heard footsteps getting closer. Abigail.

"Your bed is ready Anna, you should go lie down."

I nodded and took the arm she held out to me. My bed had been placed on the other side of the girls' cart, sheltering me from the hustle and bustle of the camp. I thanked my friend and lay down. Almost immediately, my eyes closed.

----

A whole day had passed since Molly's death. Useless for everyday tasks, I was sleeping a lot. That afternoon I was woken up by Karen's screams. Totally drunk, she was screaming at Susan. Murderer. Murderer. What was happening to us?

Abigail brought me a bowl of stew, more nervous than ever. I questioned her. Arthur and Sadie had gone to attack Sisika prison and bring John back. Two against a federal prison, what a madness. She told me how, the day before, they had scouted the place using a helium balloon. The picture would have been comical if the situation had not been so tragic.