His Name Was Isaac (Completed)

9. A Long Road

A WHILE LATER

UPPER MONTANA RIVER

Trudging through the dry, golden fields of the Great Plains, Arthur tiredly dragged himself across the state as a lonely wind breezed past him, filling the emptiness with a peaceful silence and the soft rustling of weeds.

There was no one else around at the moment. No civilization, no bandits, no camps -- nothing. All Arthur could see right now was the wide, open sky stretching out for miles above him, and a collection of white clouds blanketing its vast space.

It had been a while now since the Van der Linde gang stopped chasing Arthur, and for about an hour, he had been wandering alone, searching the land thoroughly for Isaac.

He didn't know if the boy made it out alive, or if he was even still in the vicinity, but Arthur couldn't deny that he felt like he had failed Isaac by not convincing him to spare Mackintosh.

That poor kid was hurting on the inside. Arthur could see it clear as day. Despite the shield he held in front of himself, and the distrustful nature he carried, it was no secret to the man that his son never quite recovered from Eliza's murder. And now, they were all paying the price.

Arthur just didn't know how he'd pull Isaac away from the edge. He wasn't exactly one to talk when it came to berating others for doing wrong, but it was clear to him now that the boy had no interest in showing the Van der Lindes any mercy.

If Dutch came after them -- and Arthur knew he would -- Isaac would kill them all, or die trying.

He couldn't let that happen, though. Death was no longer an option. That boy was the only real family Arthur had left. If anything were to happen to him, he didn't know what he'd do.

And he wasn't willing to find out.

Following Isaac's tracks to the north, Arthur used the trail of flattened grass and tiny blood splatters to guide him, leading him to come upon the Upper Montana River.

There, he spotted a dark brown Thoroughbred standing next to what looked like an abandoned cabin, as well as a bloody handprint on the door.

He assumed Isaac had taken refuge in the decrepit building and decided to approach it, taking out his gun just in case the man wasn't alone.

Creeping up to the front door, Arthur steadily made his way to the dilapidated porch and glanced through the shattered windows, seeing nothing but cobwebs and specks of dust floating in the air.

It reminded him of the cabin back at Aurora's Basin. It had the same isolated mood to it that made you feel separated from the troubles of civilization, and if Arthur squinted hard enough, he could've sworn he saw Dutch sitting in his rocking chair, observing the outside as always.

Placing a light hand on the doorknob, Arthur cocked his gun and slowly pulled the thing open, bracing himself for the worst.

So far, nothing in the house had moved yet, and the only sound he could hear was the creaking of old wood, but if anything unfriendly revealed itself on the inside, the last thing Arthur wanted to do was start another gunfight while he already had a gang hunting him down.

There were Pinkertons still roaming in the area, after all, and Arthur had no doubts that one more shootout was all they needed before they'd be able to track the Van der Lindes down.

He'd have to be extra cautious from here on out. Not just for Isaac's sake, but also for his.

Stepping into the cold shadows of the cabin, Arthur had barely walked through the door before he heard a man's voice threatening him to lower his weapon, leading him to bring his attention to the other end of the hall.