The bastard daughter of Colm O'Driscoll, Johanna Lynn, was forced into her father's Rivalry with Dutch van der Linde to be a spy within Dutch's camp or lose her mother forever. But when feelings start to grow, Johanna becomes conflicted with sharing...
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Johanna awoke early the next morning, having headed to bed early to wake up before anyone else to set her plan into motion. The previous evening's talks with the other girls had Johanna concerned for her own safety. If Miss Grimshaw had the gall to hit girls for 'failing' in the old hag's expectations, Johanna knew that the woman wouldn't hesitate to hit her when the opportunity presented itself. Johanna was quick to dress, putting on a simple skirt and blouse from Mary Beth's trunk and braided her long red hair back before leaving the tent. It was still somewhat dark out, with the camp being illuminated by the main campfire and lanterns spread out. Johanna's green eyes landed on the campfire, where she noticed the sleeping forms of Sean and another much older man with a grey beard. Approaching the men, she noted the empty whisky bottles scattered around them. With a sigh and shake of her head, she picked up the bottles and deposited them in a crate that held more empty bottles. Karen had explained to her that the men used them for shooting practice.
"Johanna?"
She jumped, turning around to face Charles. He was leaning against a pole of his open tent, the sleeping form of Javier behind him. Charles rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he focused on her, a frown on his face. "Charles...sorry, did I wake you?" Johanna whispered as she placed a hand over her heart as it beat fast in her chest.
Charles looked where her hand was, and his brows creased as he realised he had spooked her. In an instant, the frown and creased brows were gone. "No," He shook his head. "I was already awake. What are you doing up early?" Charles stepped away from his tent, his eyes landing on Sean and the other man briefly with a scowl before he met her gaze.
Johanna gave him a small sweet smile. "Thought I'd get a head start on some chores. Need to impress the den mother." She joked, alluding to Miss Grimshaw. Charles smirked at her, a faint chortle escaping his lips. He understood her completely. He had not even been with the gang for a year, but Charles observed everything in those short seven months. He had come to see how Miss Grimshaw treated the women in the camp, while Dutch revered the older woman in a way that made her untouchable and enabled her to get away with what she wanted.
"Is that what she spoke to you about last night?" Charles asked the young woman. Johanna nodded, which made Charles nod in kind. "Best not to aggravate her."
"Don't worry, I have a plan," Johanna answered with a smirk, which made Charles' brows crease again, concern evident on his face. "I figured...that if I come off as too good at my chore, it will leave the hag speechless and nothing to complain about. I mean, how poorly would it be for her to complain about someone who does a spectacular job?" Charles' brows rose slightly, impressed and amused by the redhead's statement.
"Well, don't let me keep you," Charles spoke, moving away from her.
Johanna watched the dark-skinned man go. Charles Smith was a man of very few words she'd come to notice, but he was also somewhere who had a sense of honour and compassion. Johanna knew she could respect the man and seek him out if she ever needed to, yet it was with that thought the regret bubbled in her mind that she wasn't here to make friends but betray him and the rest of his friends. Johanna shook her head, leaving the central campfire and heading over to Pearson's caravan, where the large man was begrudgingly awake. "Mornin' Pearson." She greeted him, gaining his attention.
