A Man's Pride

The Fight

Warning: this chapter contains violence of a mild sexual nature. I recommend skipping anything that makes you uncomfortable.

Anastasia moved so quickly that the trees she passed were reduced to a blur. Her body longed for a break, she's bled through the black cloth that temporarily stopped the bleeding. Anyone who laid eyes on her would surely perceive her as a madwoman, covered in splotches of dirt and her own crimson blood. Yet she refused to give in to these temptations fueled by exhaustion, unbreakable because of what motivated her.

She reached the cave that was full of Pinkertons. They could be heard complaining since their boss was elsewhere.

"I say we should've blown them up after what they did to Milton," said one agent with a deep voice.

"Ross says they need to be made an example of... I heard he was planning on hanging them all at once," responded a younger man.

Ana looks down the hidden hole. The Pinkertons who stayed behind were gathered in one area, digging through junk that didn't even belong to the gang. She debated her approach, sneaking in was dangerous and difficult. Shooting them was no safer. It occurred to her that she has a stick of dynamite in her satchel. This was not a kind approach but it's the only way. She lights the explosive, carefully tossing it next to a lantern.

"Oh shit!" shouted someone. A loud bang went off, smoke rising from the area of impact. Ana took a peek downwards. All of them were dead or dying. She gulped at the scent of flesh burning.

With no sign of any further threats, she climbed down the ladder. She treads carefully and hurriedly, brown eyes searching for the hiding place. A carriage with a few boxes underneath gets her attention.

"Real smart, hiding all this money under a goddamn wagon..." she mumbles to herself, pushing wooden crates that block the stash. The chest that contains so much treasure is surprisingly light when she pulls it out. She inserts the key, pushing up the lid. Her stomach drops when there isn't anything inside besides a money clip. They must have moved it before the train job. Dutch hadn't completely lost his sense of logic after all.

She kicks the useless box, feeling foolish and ashamed for wasting her time. All she could do now was return to her friends with nothing.

Ana left the cave to find her horse waiting for her. It was relatively strange since she hadn't whistled. She mounted it, heading for the hill Arthur and John climbed, thinking maybe she could catch up with them.

...

It was easy enough for her to follow their footsteps, they'd left a trail of dead Pinkertons. The sun would soon peak out from the horizon, teasing greenery of the light that's to come. She felt uneasy amongst the calm and quiet, the image of the battlefield they fled was so fresh in her mind. This night would embed itself into her soul, leaving a scar as a reminder of what she faced.

Then, the sound of struggle, shouting, and grunts. Ana began running towards the noise, hearing words spoken by an unforgettably venomous accent. Micah, it had to be him. This was more than an ordinary scuffle, it was a malicious brawl.

She turns a corner that reveals the scene of a fight taking place on a wide ridge. Bright orange flowers are flourishing on a patch of grass. Arthur is crawling, nearly beaten to death, wheezing with each breath he takes. Micah can barely walk as he struggles to follow him. Neither of them notices her presence. She raises her pistol, pulling the trigger the moment her aim settles on her foe. A clicking noise. Nothing leaves the barrel, she's out of ammo.

Micah turns around, revealing a gory sneer. His face is just as bruised and swollen as Arthur's. "There she is... I thought you did the smart thing and left these boys. But you wanted more, didn't you? Couldn't resist one last taste of me."