The Angel Butcher of Rio Bravo: An RDR2 Story

xvii. "Another thing to steal"

Arthur.

The morning after their ill-fated ride on the Braithwaites, Arthur was rudely awakened by another enemy of the Van der Linde gang; one with decidedly deeper pockets.

The faces of the two Pinkerton agents were as familiar as they were unwelcome, the very same two he'd been confronted with while fishing with little Jack, back in New Hanover. Their sudden appearance was jarring after the loss of Sean and Jack's kidnapping. Bad news comes in threes, he supposed.

Arthur looked to the twin, angry statues that were John and Tine for support, stood next to each other with their elbows identically bent, hands hovering over their guns. Also identical; their normally-straight hair - John's dark, Tine's light - with an unkempt waviness to it, signalling it had recently been wet.

Arthur clued back into the tense conversation between Dutch and the two agents, Milton and Ross, just as his leader - rather insincerely - bid them good day. Lenny stepped forward to usher the pair out and Dutch called, "Arthur, John, to me, please."

Arthur witnessed a brief brush of Tine's fingertips to John's upper arm as they passed each other; John, to Dutch, and Tine to stalk after the Pinkertons making their slow way out of camp, ensuring they really were gone.

"We need somewhere new to live, and fast," Dutch said, his face grave, and Hosea's filled with worry next to it. "You boys have been here and there this past while, anywhere we could go?"

Arthur wracked his brains, thinking to the handful of makeshift campsites he'd shared with John and Tine; suitable for three, not their twenty or so. Outside of camps... "There was some old plantation house I been through with Lenny, had some of them Lemoyne raiders in it, east of here. Has a house we could sleep some of the women in, and a decent-sized lawn, besides. Close to water."

"It'll do just fine, sounds like," Dutch nodded quickly, his eyes shut tight. "You two head off and we'll pack and meet you there."

Arthur saw John's mouth open in protest, but he seemed to think better of it, pursing his lips and pulling himself away for his horse, choosing to voice his concern when the pair were on the road, instead.

"We should be going after Jack," John said, trailing after Arthur and Buster, who were leading the way to the house.

"Soon as we get to the house I'll head on to Saint Denis, John, look for him," Arthur soothed, glancing over his shoulder. "This new place is right by the city, if my map is right." John spurred on Old Boy until he rode beside Arthur, offering him a grateful smile, one that faded immediately when Arthur asked, "Where were you and Tine last night?"

John's face reddened, and he looked down at the loose grip his hands had on the reins. "I washed up."

"So did she, by the looks of things," Arthur tried to keep the accusation out of his voice, but was only somewhat successful.

"Yeah, well," John's head was completely turned away now, his address to the old civil war battlefield they passed. "I don't control what she does."

Arthur loosed a bitter laugh. "You have me there," he said, under his breath. They were quiet the rest of the way, and Arthur was glad of the task of clearing the plantation house of the few Lemoyne raiders that remained there, sparing him from having to dwell on their painful silence.