01 — a short life of trouble
[ RDR2 X fem reader , 2334 words ] — next ✶
rhodes was a quiet town at the best of times. as much as the pompous sherrif, mr leigh gray, liked to juice up his line of work, the most action this collection of run-down buildings saw was the same petty feud between two families that was seemingly everlasting. an alleyway punch up after a night of drinking, perhaps even a few shots on the outskirts of town; this was all that was worth talking about amongst its residents, whatever distracted them from their lungs filling with red dust kicked up by horses and the sun drying up their almost forgotten patch of land in the valley of lemoyne.
when dutch van der linde first rode into the town, he felt at home, a welcome sight for the conman. it was a clean slate, filled with nooks and crannies that he could infiltrate and manipulate at his will. the townsfolk were stupid, the law even more so; it was a perfect combination to have some fun. it was no surprise to the rest of his gang that in no time at all, he was already sitting pretty on the porch of the sheriffs office, hand rested on the shoulder of sheriff gray himself. and lets not forget, with a gleaming deputy badge pinned firmly on his chest.
his main confidants, arthur morgan and hosea matthews, agreed that there was an opportunity for control here, to take what they needed and disappear before anyone in rhodes knew what had hit them, or that they were to blame. they were, after all, outlaws. on the run from forces beyond their capabilities. it only took a matter of days for the rest of their gang to settle in and set themselves up once again in a temporary camp to call home, finding a location south of the town in a secluded grassy plain. it was close to town, but still hidden unless you knew the right tracks to follow.
placing himself firmly amongst the law had led to dutch walking freely around town, a feeling he had not been able to experience in months, perhaps even years. still in a state of high alert (one that never seemed to leave), he allowed himself to look less frequently over his shoulder, not analyse every face he saw or mentally count how many weapons the men around him may have on them at any given moment. occupational hazards had ingrained this behaviour into him since a young age, but at least he could leave the confines of his camp more confident than he had in a long while.
arthur and himself rode down the now familiar dirt road towards the sunbaked town, passing dry fields and even nodding at passers by. dutch chuckled slightly, “we are living it up now son! look at me, look at us!”
arthur let himself crack a smile, “yup, i don’t know how you manage to squeeze your way into situations like these but …. thank goodness. everyone at camp seems settled in, happy even.”
dutch turned to the outlaw riding next to him, “what did i tell you arthur. i have a plan. it’s working. these fools are just the beginning.” he raised his hand to gesture to rhodes, now larger on the horizon and full of morning activity. people entering the train station to the right, some riding through to perhaps visit some of the general stores throughout. the local saloon would even start filling up with its regular drunks soon enough , even this early in the day.
“now,” dutch continued, “you break off to the left here and go visit our dear friend trelawny. last i heard he’s living amongst thieves in old trailers on the outskirts of town, see what kind of information he’s kicked up these past couple of weeks. meanwhile, i’ll go catch up with our great protector.” he placed an exaggerated hand on the deputy badge his chest, chuckling once again, “this sheriff’s perhaps a greater fool than even uncle.”
arthur laughed then let out a sigh, “fine, but next time you deal with trelawny. who knows what scheme he’s going to wrap me into.” with a kick to his horse, he rode away from dutch, leaving him to continue riding deeper into town.
hitching his loyal arabian in front of of the sheriffs office, he entered the building oozing the charisma and confidence that any man would dream to have. within ten minutes, he left holding official papers and a smug look on his face. mr gray had so graciously given him a tip off about some illegal moonshiners east of rhodes, the only instruction? to eradicate the men; any means necessary, just get the job done.
this translated to only mean two things to dutch; free booze and easy money.
eager to return to camp and start planning this ‘offical raid’ with a few extra men, he jumped back onto his horse and slowly started to make his way back home. shoving the papers into the saddle bag on his left, he allowed himself to light a cigar and let out a low sigh while he held it loosely between his calloused fingers. delicious and familiar smoke filling his lung, with an oblivious town in front of him. things were looking damn good …
just as he passed the bloody faced butcher hacking at a deer, he heard the first gunshot.
instantly alert, his still-lit cigar hit the dirt road and both hands were like stone by his sides, each ready to uncap the holsters beneath them at a moments notice. he scanned the area, turning his head every which way, already looking towards the hiding places he had mentally noted weeks earlier in which someone could potentially hide. just as he was straining to hear any sort of noise, he heard yet another gunshot within seconds.
habits had made him duck closer to his saddle, his horse becoming skiddish as dutch looked around once again. the townspeople were on high alert also, most crouched or back indoors after a few shouts. seconds passed before dutch realised that the shots were coming from out of town entirely, the echoes ringing out from where he guessed was the thicker forest that stood in the distance. these past months had made him assume every gun was pointed towards him, each loud noise, bullet or not, had made him instantly ready to fight and assuming the worst.
sitting straighter and tightening the grip around his reins to calm his horse, he figured the folk around him had concluded the same, most standing up and even waving their hands with a dismissive gesture. he had come to realise that in this town, if the shooting wasn’t at your front door, it wasn’t your problem ….
‘righteous people, truly ….’ he jokingly thought to himself.
another shot ran out from the trees, causing the remaining birds in the area to fly over the canopy. flinching less than before, dutch started his horse into a gallop once again, leaving rhodes to deal with their own backyard business. whoever it was, dutch figured he would rather it be their problem than his. moving closer towards the tree line on the dirt track to camp, he did let himself wonder what all the ruckus was about…. then it hit him …. that sinking feeling that usually rested at the bottom of his chest.
quickening his horse, dutch cut off the path and ran towards the forest. ‘trelawny….. that damn fool.’ he thought, his mind racing towards conclusion that he hoped weren't true. ‘who knows what kind of business he put those two up too. those gunshots could have been from anybody … but ….’
breaking through the tree line, he scanned the area on horseback, looking on the ground for tracks, broken branches, blood strains, anything. moving closer to where he guessed the shots were coming from, he got down from his horse and continued on foot. each step he took was barely audible despite the dry leaf litter below, his right hand once again hovering steady above the shining revolver on his hip… he could smell gunpowder in the air, this must be the place.
“arthur? son are you here?” he let himself say aloud in shouted whisper, scanning the trees for any sign of movement. the area was thick with stumps, boulders, tree trunks and bushes, all bending and layering into a green and brown mess. it was eerily quiet, most animals being scared into running with all the noise, despite a few birds chirping as they bravely returned to their nests so soon.
eyes, ears and mind alert, ducth finally saw something, a body laying face down a few feet in front of him. he let himself rush over and sighed as he realised it belonged to a stranger. not just a stranger he realised, but an o’driscoll! ‘yes’ he thought, ‘green vest, rusty gun… missing teeth… good riddance.’
looking up he saw another body laying in a flower bed to the right. both men were huge in stature, undoubtably lacking brains, but still a force not taken on without guts and skill. looking down at the o’driscoll closest to him once again, he noticed that he had a gunshot wound, right in the middle of his forehead…. impressive. walking over to the other, he had the same. a clean and fatal shot. perhaps this was arthurs handy-work?
he stood and continued deeper into the forest, calling for arthur once again. he passed yet another dead o’driscoll, taking the satisfaction of stepping right over his body and observing yet another perfect headshot. three gunshots, three wounds, three dead o’driscolls. mystery solved.
“arthur, where the hell are you boy?” he called once again. perhaps trelawney and himself were long gone, away from the scene and disappeared before the real trouble of the law or more o’driscolls showed up. or maybe they were never here at all?
dutch stood straighter and felt himself relax. whatever happened here seemed to be over, and his two men were nowhere to be seen. just as he figured he may as well leave this be and head on his way, he heard the snap of a branch behind him. turning around in an instant, hand already holding the loaded revolver in his hand, he froze as he came face to face with the barrel of a rusted repeater.
a woman was standing before him. her hair was matted, eyes wide, skin covered in who knows what but hands steady as a rock, eyebrows furrowed in fierce concentration. she was wearing a blouse, ripped and stained dark with what dutch assumed to be blood, her skirt torn and thinning. the boot she wore seemed three sized too big, a second gun on her side attached with nothing but a thin rope tied around her waist.
dutch slowly raised his palms in line with his shoulders, gun pointed upwards, “miss? i-” he started.
“don’t. who the hell are you.” she spoke stern but her voice sounded exhausted. she hid the shakiness well.
“i’m ….” he trailed off, “miss, did you kill those men back there?”
she stood unmoving. “so what if i did. those are bad men.… now answer my question.”
“oh i know,” he ignored her still, moving his right hand to touch his chest and daring to take a small step forward. “i’m glad they're laying face down in the dirt where they belong.” he paused. “thats some fine shooting you must have had.”
she looked him up and down with a quick glance, eyebrows furrowed, “what are you playing at…”
dutch dared once again to take a step forward, eyes glued to the woman with an unwavering confidence, despite the gun pointed right at his chest. “you asked who i am? my name is dutch van der line. i’m somewhat of a… outlaw around here. cast off and trying to survive….. i sense that you can relate to that.”
the woman seemed to slip out of her fierce gaze for a split second, her arms lowering slightly then snapping back into position, even taking a cowering step backwards as the stranger in front of her continued forward.
“i’m sure you're tired miss, hungry?” dutch continued. “when was the last time you laid to rest without keeping one eye open…” he moved closer still, his steps more frequent. “trust me, i’ve been there. i can help. we can help you.”
the woman stared, she didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to respond. and dutch knew it. he had her just how he wanted.
he was close enough now to raise his hand and place it on the barrel of her gun, slowly lowering it and moving in. he spoke low, calm and considerate. “miss… if you come with me, i can give you all these things. we have a camp, not too far from here. we already have a common enemy it seems,” he gestured behind him to the dead o’driscolls, even smiling slightly as he turned back, “it doesn't matter who you are, what you’ve done, just … trust me.”
the woman was staring unblinkingly at dutch, but he could tell that she had no choice, she seemed so exhausted, guessed she had nowhere to go. how long had see been alone for? was the dried blood that painted her clothes her own, or some other dead fool? “please miss, whats you’re name.”
“y/n.” she responded weakly, finally letting her arms drop by her sides. it seemed despite her unmoving position, she was struggling to hold up the heavy gun, her arms and strength exhausted. she allowed herself to let her guard down, her legs making her sway, shoulders slumped. it was all too much.
ducth let himself touch her shoulder, holding her small frame in his skilled hands as he let out a high whistle, calling his horse towards them.
“come on y/n. you’re safe now.”
