[ Bonus Update Progress: 14/20]
Chapter 28: Departure and Rebirth
Johnny finally had a horse of his own, and a noble Turkoman at that; to say he wasn't thrilled would be a lie.
He deftly stowed his carbine repeating rifle, carcano rifle, spare cartridges, wolf meat, and other essentials in the saddlebags.
From the carriage he pulled a lighter change of clothes and lashed it behind the saddle.
Then, unable to wait, he swung into the saddle to feel what riding a top-tier horse was like.
He gently stroked the animal's silky mane, murmuring softly as though sharing secrets with a trusted friend.
From his pouch he took several fragrant oat cakes and carefully offered them to the horse's muzzle.
In moments the restless, stamping, snorting beast calmed.
It sniffed the tempting oat cakes, then eagerly crunched them with obvious delight.
Dutch looked around and saw that the others had finished looting the area.
Straightening, he cleared his throat and bellowed:
"Gentlemen! Ladies! We can't linger in this godforsaken hole! If we dawdle, those damn Pinkertons will be on us like hounds on a bone!
Look at this wretched pit—it's a tomb, gives me the creeping horrors!
So let's move! Tonight we ride for Horseshoe Overlook—land of freedom and fresh air!"
With that, Dutch flicked a glance at Arthur.
Arthur nodded, grabbed a can of kerosene, strode to the pit, and emptied it in.
He tossed a torch; it arced through the air and landed dead-center.
Flames roared up like a tide, turning the pit into a blazing inferno, fire licking the sky.
Confined to the deep shaft, the blaze posed no danger to the surrounding woods.
As the fire crackled, Hosea said, "Don't forget the blood-stained snow. Shovels, boys—snap to it!"
The Gang scooped crimson chunks into the pit; in a quarter-hour every trace of the O'Driscolls vanished.
To any later visitor the camp would seem untouched, the outlaws as insubstantial as dust on the wind.
As the others climbed into wagons, Johnny rode the roan Turkoman to Dutch.
"Dutch! I've business to settle. Arthur and I will ride to Blackwater Town, sell our farms, then catch up."
"Go, son—stay sharp. When you reach Valentine, post word to Tacitus Kilgore; we'll come for you."
Johnny asked Arthur to watch his wagon; Arthur promised it was as good as done.
As Johnny turned to ride with Mr. and Mrs. Adler, Arthur called:
"Ask after Micah and Sean—don't push too hard."
Johnny flashed an OK sign and spurred after the Adlers.
"Arthur! Sadie! Once the farm's sold, where will you light?"
Arthur scratched his head. "East, maybe—haven't decided."
Johnny grinned. "I have a plan. There's a ranch near Valentine, poor management, up for grabs. Good grazing—could turn a profit."
Arthur considered. "Worth a try. Stock town draws buyers; price low, volume high."
Meanwhile Ms. Grimshaw's head ached: the Gang's women, eyeing the captured horses, pestered Dutch to ride instead of riding in wagons.
Micah snarled at them:
"Women—tend your own affairs and stop dreaming about what ain't yours!"
His glare swept over them like a whip.
Ms. Grimshaw exploded:
"Micah, you heartless wretch! Is this not a family? We look after each other!"
She trembled, cheeks scarlet.
Dutch cut in:
"Enough! Micah, shut it. Grimshaw, cool down. We don't turn on each other."
He turned to the girls.
"Pick your mounts, one at a time—Arthur will help."
Arthur sighed and complied. "Never ends…"
When they were alone Micah edged his horse beside Dutch's.
"Dutch, aren't you worried? That new boy heads for Blackwater—might sell us to the Pinkertons.
A law-abiding civilian suddenly joins a pack of wanted men? Could be after the price on your head."
He watched Dutch's face for a twitch of doubt.
Dutch scowled; victory barely cold and already knives came out. Yet Micah was his hound, so he only muttered he'd think on it.
He cursed himself for letting the man into the Gang; Micah had talked him into robbing Blackwater's bank and they'd lost three, two of them top guns.
Still, the bright young newcomer might fill the strategist gap—Hosea was slipping.
Dutch blamed others, as leaders do; the fault was his plan, but he would never admit it.