Davey couldn't be bothered to argue with Dutch.
John was whispering to Abigail, who occasionally glanced at Davey, her eyes showing a mix of surprise and awe.
Mac sat nearby, smoking a cigarette, clearly bored. After spending so long at the Helton Inn—drinking, bathing, and indulging in hot coffee and women—returning to camp felt like a downgrade.
As the saying goes, it's easy to go from frugal to lavish, but hard to go back the other way.
Now Mac's head was full of memories of Valentine's pleasures.
When he saw Davey approaching, Mac immediately perked up.
"Davey, my brother, when are we heading back to Valentine?"
Davey sighed. "Mac, those women are going to drain you dry. Can't you rest for a couple of days?"
Mac protested, "Davey, I'm strong! I can handle it."
Davey smacked the back of his head. "No matter how strong you are, you'll wear yourself out if you keep wasting your energy like that."
While the two were talking, Leopold Strauss walked over.
"Davey, have all those debts been settled?"
"Only Mr. Wróbel's," Davey said casually. "The other two are too far away. Haven't gone yet."
In truth, he had no intention of collecting them at all. Whoever wanted to could handle it.
Seeing Davey's indifferent attitude, Strauss didn't press the issue and simply continued, "There's another matter, Davey. A farmer I met in Valentine—also a preacher—named Downes. He's been refusing to repay his debt. I've looked into it; he can pay, but he won't, unless you go personally."
Before Davey could answer, Mac suddenly shouted, "Downes? You mean that preacher who runs those charity drives?"
Strauss blinked in surprise. "Mac, you know him?"
Mac didn't hold back. He grabbed Strauss by the collar and yelled, "Strauss, you disgusting bastard! Are you trying to get us killed?"
"That fool Downes has tuberculosis—it's highly contagious! You want us to collect from him and get infected too? You damn vulture, I'll kill you today!"
Enraged, Mac swung a heavy punch that smashed straight into Strauss's face.
Poor Strauss never stood a chance. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth as he collapsed, struggling to get back up.
But Mac wasn't done yet—he raised his boot, ready to kick him again.
Davey didn't intervene. He knew Mac had control over his temper and wouldn't actually kill Strauss. But Dutch had no choice but to step in.
"Mac! Mac! What the hell are you doing?"
Dutch hurried over, panicked. The camp's steady income depended far more on Strauss than on any of the unreliable gunmen. He couldn't just let him get beaten to death.
"Dutch, this bastard tried to get me and Davey infected! You think he doesn't deserve a beating?" Mac shouted furiously.
Dutch, faced with Mac's rage, turned to Strauss and asked, "Strauss, what's going on here?"
Strauss, still dazed from the punch, took a moment to catch his breath. That hit nearly sent him to the grave.
"It's one of our debtors, Dutch. I knew he was sick, but I didn't know it was tuberculosis," Strauss explained hastily.
Dutch tried to calm Mac down. "Mac, it's a misunderstanding. Strauss just wanted the debt repaid—he didn't mean you any harm. Let's not make this worse."
Davey finally spoke. "Enough, Mac. Mr. Strauss probably didn't know. If he had, he'd never have lent money to someone with tuberculosis. But Dutch, after all these years collecting debts, it feels like karma's coming for us. Maybe it's time to let someone else handle it."
"Arthur, John, Bill, Javier—they can do it. It's just poor folks anyway; anyone can go."
Dutch quickly agreed. "Alright, Davey. We'll do as you say."
The debt collection job had always been handled by the Callander brothers. It wasn't exactly moral work, but it paid well. If they didn't want to do it anymore, there were plenty of others willing to step up.
Strauss staggered away to find some medicine, too afraid to say another word to the brothers.
Dutch rubbed his temples in frustration. The Callander brothers were like live explosives—ready to blow at any moment. Ever since the Blackwater incident, they'd become harder and harder to control. Davey had been that way first, and now Mac was too.
While Mac kept cursing under his breath, John's side of camp was much calmer.
Little Jack was running around happily, thrilled with his new gifts.
Abigail was smiling too—John had brought her perfume and a hairpin. It was the first time he'd ever brought her a present.
Davey's expression grew complicated as he watched them.
Arthur's nickname as "Black Lung" would never exist now. That alone was something that lifted a weight from Davey's heart.
But still... without tuberculosis, did Arthur even need redemption anymore?
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser