Unshaken: An RDR2 Story

Chapter 6

We spent the next three days hunting out in the wilds, and Charles hadn't been wrong that my new horse would be a pain in the behind. He was strong willed, but I was even more so, and it was very much a battle between us. I was determined to win it.

Over the course of the three days, while also being shown how to fish and hunt, I created a connection between Scout and I. He resisted less when I tried to turn him, was more comfortable whenever I mounted him, even began demanding to be scratched whenever I dismounted.

The return to camp brought me back down to earth from my high. It had already been mostly gutted, and I realised what had happened.

"Charles, you're back, thank goodness," Dutch approached us, "We ran into trouble in town. Leviticus Cornwall, he nearly killed us. Arthur can fill you in, I need you two to go and scope out our new camp. Arthur will show you where I mean."

"Can I come?" I spoke up, knowing I was perhaps in Dutch's bad books.

"I don't think so," he shook his head, speaking softly, "We don't know what they'll encounter."

"Trust me, I'll know when to stay out of the way," I said quietly, "Plus, my language skills are the reason I want to come. They'll need it."

"Be careful," Dutch relented, "Javier, with me. I need a word."

Charles, Arthur and I rode to the creek that Micah had suggested, Arthur caught us up on what had happened and we shared our concerns. They knew Dutch couldn't lie low, and with the Pinkertons after us all, land we could hide in was running out. I knew that better than them, of course.

"I think its that dried up creek, up ahead," I called, breaking an awkward silence.

"Seems very open," Charles said.

"Yeah, it does," Arthur replied, "Ain't sure it'd be the best in the rain, neither. Let's take a look around."

We found a body that had been shot, and drew our guns. A camp was just ahead of the body. We came across some tents and wagons, all ransacked. That was never a good sign.

We investigated the camp, but there was no sign of anyone. That was until I moved some crates at the wagon, crates I of course knew were there, and found three people hidden underneath. A mother and her two children.

"It's okay," Charles said as we holstered our guns, "We don't mean no harm. Are you okay?"

They got out from under the wagon, a shotgun trained on us.

"He said, are you okay?" Arthur repeated, and the mother replied in another language.

"German?" She asked and the boys shook their heads.

"Ja, ich spreche Deutsch," I stepped forward, despite knowing what was wrong anyway, I had to go through the motions, "Was ist los?"

"Oh, Gott sei Dank!" she said, "Mein Mann! Er ist... er ist vergeben!"

"Wo?" I asked, "Und wer?"

"Ich weiss nicht, aber in diese Richtung," she pointed and I nodded.

"Her husband was taken," I explained, "She doesn't know by who but they took him in that direction."

"Come on," Charles said, leading the way to the horses. He led the way, successfully picking up a trail.

"You speak German?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"I do, badly," I replied, "Never know when it can come in handy."

"Hmph, well, if you didn't, we wouldn't have to help," he grumbled.

"You're not that coarse," I told him.