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...
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"Everyone, everyone, now I hate to interrupt this fine evening in this beautiful slice of country we have found ourselves in.
Dutch held his palms up in the air, like a magician casting the spell of silence over his loyal crowd. Here was a man who most certainly did not hate interruptions if he was the one behind them.
These impromptu speeches, quickly woven together by paraphrases from Evelyn Miller's published musings about America and recollections of the turmoil that the Van der Linde gang had survived, were his signature. At night, when everyone was lounging around the fire with steaming bowls of stew in hand, or in the afternoons, when chores were tackled and robberies were planned–one could never predict exactly when Dutch would spring a pep talk on his beloved gang. But we knew, eventually, that it would come, and no matter how repetitive the material got, it was simply our duty to listen.
I glanced up in vague curiosity, saving my place in the novel on my lap with a finger resting down the middle. Often, I'd been on the sidelines of camp when a speech ensued. But tonight, I was caught right in its crosshairs–Dutch's steady gaze was on me.
So much for deciding to take Grimshaw's advice and join the festivities, I thought, flustered. Had I done something wrong?
I looked to Arthur quickly, furrowing my eyebrows. He was sitting beside me on the log, elbows resting on his knees and hands loosely clasped together. Hosea had occupied the space on my other side. Dutch's best men, ensnaring in me in what could be a humiliating trap.
Perhaps sensing the thick waves of panic I was exuding then, Arthur's eyes lazily slid over to me. A tired smile graced his mouth.
"We are here today," Dutch went on, while I widened my eyes at Arthur imploringly. "Because we are free. We persevere in a country that swears it can eliminate folk like us before the new century. But instead, we get stronger. And if we ever needed proof of that undeniable truth, well then, Violet Adler is sitting right here." He stretched an arm in my direction.
Everyone turned to focus on me and my face flushed hot. Okay, I was grateful that this wasn't a hostile intervention, but still, it was a little embarrassing.
"We found this poor woman," he announced, eyes straying from mine to loop in the rest of the group. "Alone. Everything she had, taken by Colm's gang of idiots. And she had an option, my friends. We gave her an option: stick with us, keep her head down, and perhaps someday, find her way back to polite society. But you know what she did instead?"
The question was rhetorical, of course. And it didn't even necessarily matter that it involved me. I'd gotten quite in tune with the rhythm of Dutch's speeches and knew this one was building up to the same point he always intended to make: that this life, hard as it may be, was still a trouble preferable over the shackles of civilization run by government-paid lackeys. And by inadvertently choosing it, I upped the argument a point in Dutch's favor.
