𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘉𝘜𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕 | ʀᴅʀ

Chapter Twenty-Three

Richy blinked at John as he walked off, before looking over at Rosalie. "I coulda' taken Chester! I don't mean to upset him like that. Woulda' jus' been a minute or two."

Rosalie waved him off and lit a cigarette, heading over to Dutch's tent. "Nah, John is a big boy. He can take care of himself. I'm not exactly his biggest fan right now, so I want him to feel like a kicked puppy for a bit." She said, flashing Richy a teasing smile as Mac walked with her in tow.

A fully grown, and very furry Copper barked and raced over to her as she neared Dutch's tent, cigarette between her fingers. Rosalie gasped and rubbed the dog's head as he jumped up to greet her. He placed dusty paws on her front as he panted, but she didn't mind, grinning down at him.

"Hello there, sir!" Rosalie hummed, rubbing his furry face. "Did you miss me? Did you?" She asked, the dog barking and jumping down. Copper ran a circle around her, rubbing on Mac's leg as he went to her other side, before taking off over to the small picnic table outside of Dutch's tent.

"That dog is wild," Mac hummed.

"Sure is," Rosalie agreed, wiping down the dusty paw-prints from her shirt that did not want to go away.

She continued to dust off her shirt, starting to get a bit annoyed now at the little imprints were relentless, determined to stay attached to the fabric. She loved that dog, and she couldn't really complain as she was the one who brought it home for Arthur, but man was it high energy. Not to mention messy.

"You get a nice greeting from Copper, Miss Klein?" Dutch asked as they neared.

Rosalie huffed and looked up, deciding that the collection of paw prints at the bottom of her shirt were just going to stay there for now.

"Yes." She said, defeated.

Mac patted her shoulder teasingly. "I think you'll be fine, cowgirl."

Dutch chuckled, but her gaze on him didn't linger long, as while Arthur and Hosea were also with him at the table, there was a fourth person as well that she hadn't seen before.

It was a man who was much too skinny to be healthy, and while his skin was dark, it looked almost a sickly shade, as though he hadn't eaten or drank anything properly for days. There was a bowl of stew in front of him and a cup of water. He hardly paid her any attention as he ate, shoveling food into his mouth as his black hair hung around his face, stopping just before his cheekbones. It was tangled, matted, and looked as though it had fallen out in some places from malnutrition. A white bandage was wrapped around his throat, but it was bloody, dirt covering the gauze and his face. His clothes were tattered, the gray shirt he wore rolled to his elbows and had plenty of holes in it.

"Dutch..." Rosalie began slowly, eyeing the man who ate ravenously. "Who's that?"

Mac grimaced. "He looks like hell."

"I know," agreed Arthur from where he sat at the table across from the unnamed man.

He pat Cooper's head, the dog having wandered over to him and sitting at his side, chin resting in his lap. "That's his third bowl of stew too. He won't stop eatin'. If we ain't careful he might eat up all our food at this point." He grumbled.

"Arthur," chided Dutch, slapping his shoulder. "Don't be so cruel! You were a starving, mangey little kid once. Have a heart."

Dutch turned his attention to Rosalie. He came over to throw an arm around her shoulder, leading her closer to the table.

"Rosalie, this is Javier. I found him while stealin' some of those chickens from that homestead Hosea found out east. Ran into him while we were both in the coop. To my surprise, when I wandered inside, Javier was already in there! Why, you should have seen the poor fella. Thought I was gonna shoot him dead, but he had no supplies, no horse—just the clothes on his back, a knife, and his revolver." He said, looking at the man somberly.