In the year 1878 the gang was small only Dutch, Hosea, and a fifteen year old Arthur but the family grew a little bigger when they find 9 year old Annabelle hidden away in an old wardrobe after just witnessing the deaths of her family. Overcome with...
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By 1899, the age of outlaws and gunslingers was at an end. America was becoming a land of laws... Even the west had mostly been tamed. A few gangs still roamed but they were being hunted down and destroyed.
"You haven't said a word since Blackwater." Arthur grunted in annoyance while the snow and ice nipped at his face, Dutch had sent him up ahead to look for shelter, Annabelle tagged along cause she couldn't stand to watch Davey die. "You pissed at me, Annie?"
"I should've been there." She said in a harsh bite trying to not let the emotions get the best of her. "Maybe if I had... Pa wouldn't have done what he did. I could've said something kept him from hurting that girl."
"Girl?" Arthur asked not knowing what happened either.
"Javier didn't tell you? Well had you been there you--you would've seen him murder a young woman. She wasn't but maybe 19 or 20." Annie said bitterly trying to keep her anger under control, but it was hard. It was hard knowing that the man she saw as her father figure was a cold killer. "WHY weren't you there? Why didn't you help?!" She snapped at Arthur not really caring for the answer.
"So that's it. That's why yer mad at me. Go ahead. Have at it." Arthur voiced not knowing if he was being loud because of the wind or the frustration he felt with everything. "Look I ain't responsible for Dutch's choices. Hosea didn't feel right by it and honestly I can't say I did either. It was doomed from the start. Who knows what would've been or what could've been, but either way somehow the Pinkerton's were going wind up in the same spot. Ain't no use crying over spilled milk."
"This ain't just spilled milk you fool!" Annie said as she kicked the sides of her horse to speed it up and also just wanting to be away from Arthur in the moment. "THIS IS JENNY, SEAN, MAC... DAVEY IS DYING. They ain't just spilled milk! It's blood, Arthur! Blood on all of our hands even if we weren't there."
"You think I don't know that?! I am just as disappointed by all of this as you are!" Arthur yelled over the sounds of the noisy storm and the exhausted horses. "Or is there something else you pissed about?!"
"Why do you give a shit? Ain't like you've cared for a long time now." Annie spoke harshly, refusing to look over at him.
"You can be mad at me for breaking your heart, you go on right ahead. I'm a god awful bastard, may I shrivel up and die. BUT you can't be mad at me for Blackwater and the shitstorm we're in now. With or without me this was where we were going to end up. So go on and blame me if it makes ya feel better."
Annie stayed silent after that thinking back to the past couple of years and all of the missed time, opportunities and tragedy. Arthur was her best friend. The only man she had ever loved and the only man who could get so far under her skin it hurt, but she couldn't stop loving him. No matter how much Dutch hated it, no matter how many times Karen told her she was a damn fool, and no matter how many hours she spent crying on Abigail's shoulder... she loved him and no matter how much she hated it too it wasn't ever going to change. He was the first face she saw. He was the first face she trusted.
