Persona Non Grata - A Red Dead Redemption 2 Story

Prologue

The wind was brutal that night. 

The travellers huddled in the back of carriages, desperate for any sort of warmth as the temperature continued to drop. The tarp, though open on both ends, shielded some of the wicked wind but it just wasn't enough for some. Many were on the verge of death and there was no let up in sight.

The carriage drivers were even worse off as they took the brunt of it all. Snow speckled their bodies, the chill penetrating through even the thickest of cloth. Tiny icicles clung to their eyelashes making it hard to see, not that there was much they could. If not for the dull light of the lantern of the carriage ahead of them, the snow would swallow them whole. 

"Abigail says he's dying, Dutch"

Upon hearing the voice, the driver looked to his left. A man, desperately clutching his hat, was walking beside him. His gait was uneven as the snow swallowed his foot each step he took. "We have to stop somewhere,"

"I've sent Arthur up ahead to find shelter," The driver's voice was hoarse. His throat was parched and while he could easily quench it with some snow, he didn't dare to do so. Not after what happened with a friend of his. He'd never seen a man so sick after eating tainted snow. He'd have to wait for a drink, not sure if he'd even live to see another bottle of liquor.

The man beside Dutch pulls his scarf tighter around his neck, and lowers his head to stop the blizzard from affecting his vision too badly. "If we don't stop soon, we'll all be dying. This weather, it's May... I'm just hoping the law got as lost as we did."

A lone man rides towards the convoy, raising his head to maintain eyeline with the man he considers his father.

Dutch called out to him "Arthur! Any luck?"

"I found a place where we can get some shelter." Arthur replied, his voice barely audible over the howling wind "An old mining town, abandoned, it ain't far. Come on." "Come on!" Dutch yells out, whipping the horse on the carriage, the rest of the gang following behind them, eager to get out of the blizzard.

*****

The man who sat alongside Dutch on the wagon pushes a door open with a revolver and a lamp in his hands. He looks around and gives a signal to the others "Bring him in here." Several men and women enter the shed, whilst a few carry Davey in on a stretcher.

A voice bleeds out from darkness as the gang's women huddle around Davey's body. "Miss Gaskill, get that fire lit quick. Miss Jones, bring in whatever blankets we have. Mr. Pearson, see what we've got in terms of food."

A young mother presses her head against Davey's chest, listening for his breath. When she didn't find any, she stood upright "Davey's dead." she announced solemnly. Some of the members looked down at the floor, silently paying their respect, whilst others closed their eyes - guilty and angry that they couldn't save their fallen comrade.

"There was... nothing more you could have done." The Reverend says, placing coins over the eyes of the now-departed Davey Callander.

"What are we gonna do? We need supplies." Hosea, Dutch's second-in-command, says to no-one in particular, his eyes still fixed on Davey's lifeless corpse.

"Well, first of all you're gonna stay here... and you are gonna get yourself warm." Dutch says. "Now, I sent John, James, Sergio and Micah scouting out ahead. Arthur and I, we're gonna ride out, see if we can find one of 'em."

Arthur points out of the door, with a look of disbelief written on his face. "In this?"

Dutch looks Arthur in the eye, and nods. "I don't see what other choice we have." he says, before redirecting his attention to the rest of the group. "Listen. Listen to me, all of you, for a moment. Now, we've had, well, a bad couple of days. I loved Davey, Jenny, Sean, Mac, they may be okay, we don't know. But we lost some folks. Now, if I could... throw myself in the ground in their stead, I'd do it - gladly. Dutch's eyes hardened, not out of anger but rather conviction. He wouldn't let another one of his gang die to the law. "We're gonna ride out, and we're gonna find some food. There ain't nobody following us through a storm like this one. By the time they get here, we're going to be long gone."

"Mr. Pearson and Miss Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp while we're gone. Everyone, stay strong and get yourselves warm. We ain't done yet! We will make it through this!" Dutch turned for the door, calling Arthur to come along with him.

"Alright, we've got some work to do." Ms Grimshaw says, as Dutch picks up a lantern and walks out, Arthur following close behind him onto the street where the blizzard is howling.

"Well, we ain't run into them yet. So... they both must have headed down the hill."

"Sure. Hey..." Arthur says, walking up to Dutch until both men stood square in each other's faces. "I ain't had time to ask. What really went down back there on that boat?"

"We missed you, that's what happened. Come on." The whinny of a horse approaches them, as a black man walks out of the storm, leading two horses with him.

"Hey! You need horses?"

"Oh yeah." Dutch says, relief cracking in his voice, "and Mr. Smith, get yourself indoors. You need to rest that hand."

"I'll live." the other man says, folding his arms around his chest as Arthur and Dutch mount the horses.

Dutch looks at the black man, before raising his tone, as himself and Arthur begin to ride away. "Get indoors, son! I... we need you strong."

"Okay."

Both Dutch and Arthur ride out into the blizzard, their grunting being drowned out by the wind whipping around them like wintry daggers in spring.

"Alright. Let's head out."

"Ain't sure what we're gonna find out here, Dutch." Arthur says, the soft glow of a candle-lit lantern illuminating his face against the snow spiralling around his face.

Dutch didn't look back at Arthur, focusing on not losing sight of the path in front of him in what seemed to be several feet of snow. "We have to try. Stay close, we'll do our best to stick to the trail." The wind picked up in intensity, distorting their sense of direction and smothering everything it could in snow.

"This goddamn weather."

"Been two days or more like this now. Oh, it has to blow over soon." Dutch says, as both riders pick up their pace. One of the horses whinnys in protest, longing for the warmth of a stable and a fresh bed of straw. "Bridge coming up, take it easy."

Both riders traverse the low-sitting bridge, the gurgling of flowing water almost too silent against the wind. Still, they pushed onwards. "Hey, move up alongside me. Can't see you back there." Dutch says, as Arthur pushes forward through the snow to get up to his side.

"Can't believe we lost Davey too." Arthur says, thinking back to the corpse they left in the shed with the rest of the gang. They'd lost Davey and Jenny, whilst Mac and Sean had not been seen since the botched robbery in Blackwater.

"He's the last one, Arthur. No more. We need to get those people warm and fed."

"Least we don't need to worry about Pinkertons tailing us in this." Arthur and Dutch both scoff at the thought of the law pursuing them in this weather.

"A couple more days, we'll be on the other side." Dutch says, looking back at Arthur. "You need to help me pick the others back up. You're the only one I can rely on to stay strong right now."

Dutch begins to slow down, and lifts the lantern in his hand to illuminate the snowy road in front of him. "Hey, I think I see something up the path."

"You up ahead! Who's there?" He calls out, as another rider approaches them, snow decorating his moustache. "Micah."

"Gentlemen."

"Found anything?" Dutch asks, and Micah nods, maintaining a grim look on his face.

"I think so. Found a little homestead down thataway."

"Okay. Anyone home?"

"Sure. Place is blazing with light and noise. Sounded like a party." Micah says, sarcasm ringing in the echoes of his voice, pleased with his little joke, whilst Arthur and Dutch looked unimpressed.

"Let's go see."

"Follow me." Micah says, as he turns to head back up the road, with Arthur and Dutch following behind. "How's Davey doing?"

"Ah, he didn't make it. Nor did little Jenny."

Micah looks down briefly, remembering the good times he had with the ginger-haired girl. "That's too bad. Davey was a real fighter. Both of them Callander boys is, or was."

"Yeah." Dutch says, unbothered by the growing intensity of the storm.

"And Mac and Sean?"

"We don't know."

"Quite a business." Micah says, referring to the botched robbery in Blackwater that he orchestrated.

Dutch pauses before saying something, lest the wrong words come out. "I'm glad you're alright, Micah." he says, not willing to lose any more members of the gang.

"Always."

Arthur shifts his attention towards Dutch, aware that Micah wouldn't be able to hear him from the front of the group. "Ask him if he's seen John."

"Hey, have you seen John, Micah?"

"Didn't see much of anything once this storm came in. Haven't seen Sergio or James since the storm settled in either."

"He hasn't seen him, nor James or Sergio." Dutch calls out to Arthur, who scoffs under his breath

"They'll be fine. Things always turn out right for those boys."