PATIENCE WAS SOONER A MIRACLE RATHER THAN A VIRTUE. Let alone loyalty, it seemed. His careful ways started turning obsessive. Though he would still call it simply being safe in those tricky times when everyone in the gang could certainly feel the heat not only of the southern dense air but also the lawmen breathing down their necks. Dutch, still, was the most hunted target or so he believed. Ironically, the prospect of the Pinkertons catching him was the least of his worries. The fish rots from the head down. Anyone who he was convinced was on his side could turn out to be the stool pigeon â and that was keeping him at night.
   Most of his evenings now were spent in solitude when others rejoiced around the campfire. Sometimes Micah would be his only companion besides the stars sparkling high above. For whatever reason, Dutch didnât quite mind him interrupting his silent moments of rumination. He needed to give it to him, the man was quite a chatterbox. But he never doubted his authority and that on its own meant a great deal. Particularly when the rest was getting suspiciously comfortable with voicing their doubts near him. Hosea, Arthur⊠and Josiah out of all people. That, in all fairness, surprised Dutch. Especially for someone so keen on working outside the camp, Trelawny sure as hell had a lot to say. Maybe not directly ( was he ever direct? ), but reticence could be just as telling. If it wasnât louder.
   â Good to see you, â unblinking stare fastened on the lakeâs gentle tedium as the frosty greeting rolled off his tongue. He didnât look to check whether the approaching steps were even belonging to Josiah; he could hope the dim silhouette captured by the corner of his eye was the awaited one.
   Dutch knew limits to showmanship. With that, he didnât want to make a fuss for everybody else to eavesdrop on, so he settled for a more remote spot on Clemens Pointâs outskirts. Considering how little it took for him to lose control over his temper, it was probably a matter of minutes before his enraged voice would echo in each corner of the camp.
   â I was thinking about something, Josiah⊠About you and your whereabouts, to be exact. Whereâ Where do you even loiter these days? Your disappearing acts really bug me. â Arms crossed in front of his chest, restless index finger brushing over his chin as he finally turned on his heel in the manâs direction. â I think a question thatâs much more important is⊠Who are you talkinâ to out there? â
Things felt off. Far more than they had before - at least where Dutch was concerned. Honestly, he had the good sense to be concerned - there were a good many people who were after him. Josiah wasnât sure just how much longer they could all remain unharmed. He was doing his best to throw people off their tail, but there was only so much even he could do.Â
On top of that, there were other concerns that he held. Namely, those about certain member of the gang. He knew he wasnât particularly fond of Mr. Bell. The man so crude and crass, misbehaving towards other members in a way he felt unacceptable - and as he had seen Charles defend himself, he wasnât the only one to feel this way. There was a lot at stake here, that was something that couldnât be overstated. And while he, Josiah, had a way out of here without being caught (that he was sure of) he still feared for those he had grown to care about. Arthur, and even John - what with dear Abigail and little Jack. The young boy did nothing to deserve such a dangerous, blood-filled childhood.
When he had taken note of Dutch out by the lake (what a lovely view, the water and sky), he made his way towards the leader of the gang. The only member he felt he knew better was perhaps Hosea, though he did his best to keep his own self quiet from them both. He did have an affinity for Dutch, the outlaw had an allure to him - the man was a leader, and was good at it. That sort of person was one that Josiah could respect, even if he didnât entirely subscribe to Dutchâs beliefs. Â
But the greeting he received as he approached Dutch certainly made him freeze in his spot, âAlways a pleasure, Mr. Van der Linde,â he returned the greeting. Dutchâs voice was colder than he expected, the man felt something in the pit of his stomach. Almost an alert: danger. But this was Dutch. Of course, Josiah knew the man was dangerous to others - he had murdered plenty. However, that was precisely why Trelawny tried to foster a relationship. Find the apex predator, become valuable, and suddenly you have protection.
However. This wasnât something he was quite prepared for. He listened to the questions. They were very fair, and perhaps in a lighter atmosphere would earn a joke or some silly comment. But Dutch seemed to be not too much in the mood for humor, âI do not keep a log of all the people I speak with,â he did, in a way, but that was complicated in itself, âI am often in the saloons, where tongues are the loosest. Doing favors in exchange for favors which will come back rather lucrative for the gang.â It was almost a bit insulting, being questioned like this, but he didnât want to push too hard yet, âIâm out covering your tracks. Such as those left behind by Mr. Bell and Mr. Morgan in Strawberry. Not to mention Blackwater. You leave a trail. I help you clean it.âÂ
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