When Dutch Van Der Linde, Micah Bell and Arthur Morgan stumble across Violet Adler after a crisis that robbed her of the last family she had-her dearest brother, Jake Adler, and beloved sister-in-law, Sadie-she's offered a home. A temporary one, unt...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
After spending a night and half of a day with the Van Der Linde gang, I'd made a few observations.
For one, Arthur had been right. They weren't O'Driscolls perusing the country under a different name. They didn't much resemble the men who'd intruded into my safe place in the middle of the night at all. Quietly watching Jack, a child at this makeshift camp, had made that believable more than anything else had.
He was waving around a toy plane, under the watchful eye of his mother, Abigail. He'd given me more than a few curious looks and I mustered a wave for the little boy.
Second observation? This gang was in deep shit, to put it lightly. They were here in the mountains because the law had chased them away from their last place of residence, Blackwater. I'd been there a few times when I'd lived in Strawberry, as it wasn't too far. I couldn't recall if I'd ever run into these sly folks.
From what I could tell, the plan was to wait out the storm and then move farther east. I'd go with them and then...then, I wasn't sure. I suppose I could try to secure my footing once we were immersed in civilization again, but the idea of that wasn't so appealing at the moment.
I stared into the fire that feebly warmed the shack. No one had talked to me much in the last few hours, except to offer food or attempt quickly failed small talk. I was fine with the silence, with simply listening with an idle ear to the happenings of this strange gang.
"Oh, thank God!"
I looked up at Abigail's sudden exclamation. The door had opened, letting in a cold breeze and light flurries with it. Arthur and another man I hadn't made the acquaintance of were lugging a body inside. A man, heavily scarred on the face and clad in blood-smeared clothing. His head, full of long, dark brown hair was lowered to the floor, like he could barely stand to lift it.
"You're a fool, John Marston, you're an utter fool!" She shouted at the weary man. Arthur nodded in solemn agreement. She heavily sighed, following the men anxiously as they laid John down on a small bed at the end of the room. "Thank you, Arthur, Javier, thank you."
"Sure, Abigail. You got any more lost maidens that need saving?"
"No, just a man who deserves a beatin'." Despite the hostile remark, you saw the genuine concern peeking through the woman's expression as she studied John's state. Jack lingered nearby cautiously, wringing his fingers together.
More of the gang crowded John, with exclamations of relief and teasing comments that he managed to acknowledge with a wheezed retort or chortle.
"You listen to your woman now, Marston," Arthur told the injured man wryly, while backing toward the door. "Reckon you've got more to fear here than out there with the wolves."
"Damn right he does," Abigail muttered.
Arthur and Javier left the shack. My stomach growled and a quick surveying glance around confirmed that the meager snacks we'd had stashed in here were gone. I knew that the girls insisted I ask for assistance if I needed it, but I didn't feel like interrupting the reunion happening feet away. And I could use the fresh air, some room to breathe without the constant presence of pitying gazes.
