The Story Of Red Dead Redemption

Chapter 2: The Van der Linde Gang (Part 1)

"Miss Gaskill, stoke the fire a bit more."

Mary Beth Gaskill had always struck Arthur as an excellent con artist. Her polite demeanor and undeniable kindness made her the perfect partner for Hosea in their scams, a skill that was highly praised by the rest of the gang.

"Miss Jones, bring all our blankets over here."

Karen Jones nodded and went to fetch the blankets. She was a woman with a toughness that rivaled any man's. Arthur remembered her vividly, waving her revolver and telling him in no uncertain terms that she was skilled in deception, bank robberies, and robbing the rich, among other fearsome things. She had warned him not to underestimate her. Unfortunately, most of what she said that night was forgotten, as she had almost drunk everyone under the table, including Arthur.

"Miss Jackson, don't worry about this for now. Take little Jack to the next room and get some food."

Tilly Jackson's life had been one of hardship from the start. As a black woman living in this era, she had faced hunger, fear, and loneliness. Arthur shook his head, knowing that most of the black people he knew had grown up in similar conditions. Tilly was no exception.

Of course, none of them were exceptions.

Susan Grimshaw, not noticing Arthur's contemplative state, continued to assign tasks with authority and experience. Unlike the others who were lost in confusion, Susan understood the need for order in a gang, especially in their current situation. They needed a leader to guide and reassure them.

"Mr. Pearson, stop daydreaming. Go check on the Adlers next door and see if they need help. We need to prepare dinner and take stock of our food supplies. Thank God Arthur brought back some provisions; otherwise, we'd be eating your navy beer!"

Though no longer young, Susan stood firm against the relentless pursuit and snowstorms. If it were useful, she wouldn't hesitate to shoot at the damn weather.

Arthur watched Susan quietly. She still had snow on her that hadn't been cleaned off, standing with a lantern in one hand and her other hand on her hip, giving orders methodically.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy, with the cold wind occasionally tapping on the windows.

"Davey seems to have stabilized. This medicine is really effective," Abigail said happily.

Arthur vaguely remembered that in the future, or rather, the not-so-distant future, antibiotics would be the best solution for such situations. However, he had never quite understood what antibiotics were.

"Thank God our efforts weren't in vain," Reverend Swanson added, relieved that he wouldn't need to have a conversation with God today.

"Reverend Swanson, if it's not too much trouble, could you ask God what we should do now? Davey has stabilized, but he needs more medication. We might have to stay here for a while and gather more supplies," Hosea said, looking at Davey with a worried expression.

"Oh, Hosea, forgive me. I'm just a pastor indulging in worldly pleasures. My connection with God isn't that strong. I think Davey doesn't need my help for now. I must go and have a drink for this poor man," Swanson said, heading to check on the beer Pearson had packed.

"Dutch, say something, like your new plan," Arthur quietly approached Dutch and patted him on the shoulder. Hosea also waited for Dutch to come up with a plan as he always had in the past.

Dutch put his gold pocket watch back in his pocket and began to speak thoughtfully. "First, you all need to stay here... and keep warm. I'll have a good plan, just like in the past."

"Right now, everyone needs to make sure they don't fall apart."

Dutch clasped his hands in front of him, and Hosea, understanding his role, lifted a lantern to gather everyone's attention.

"I've sent John and Micah ahead to scout. Arthur and I are going to check on them," Dutch said, not really asking for Arthur's opinion.

Damn it, Arthur thought. He wasn't sure he wanted to go out in this weather, even with the thickest coat. He suspected Micah and John were at the Adlers' farm, where a gang of O'Driscoll Boys was also taking shelter from the storm.

This wasn't going to be an easy task. He didn't have Dead Eye. Facing armed thugs without numerical superiority could lead to significant casualties.

Wait, what was Dead Eye?

"Arthur?" Dutch called out, noticing Arthur's distraction. "We'll be back soon. This is our only option..." He then turned to address everyone.

"We've had... very tough days. We've lost some comrades—Jenny, Sean, Mac... Davey is severely injured. They might pull through, or they might not. If I could... trade my life for theirs..."

Dutch pointed forward, looking at everyone.

"I wouldn't hesitate! But... we will move forward and find the supplies we need! The important thing is, we are safe now."

"In this blizzard, no one will continue to pursue us."

The group stood with their arms crossed, blowing warmth into their hands, looking disinterested. Arthur was also distracted, thinking about something else.

Dutch continued his impassioned speech.

"...and by the time they get here... we will... we will be long gone."

"We've been through worse situations! Mr. Pearson, Ms. Grimshaw, I need you to turn this place into a camp. We might need to stay here for a few days."

"Now, each of you... each of you..." Dutch concluded.

"Keep warm! Stay strong, trust me."

"This is not our end!" With that, Dutch turned and picked up a coal lamp, heading outside.

"Hurry, Arthur, follow me." Dutch was still Dutch. Arthur patted his cowboy hat and put it on.

Opening the door, the strong wind and snow immediately knocked Arthur's hat off.

Bending down to pick it up, Arthur said, "I left earlier than them and met the Adlers at the foot of the mountain. They run a small farm there. I didn't encounter them on my way back, so they might have gone in a different direction."

Arthur wasn't sure if the O'Driscoll Boys would visit the Adlers' farm after he had hired them, but avoiding an encounter in this situation was undoubtedly a good thing. Bullets don't have eyes.

"Hey, I never got the chance to ask you."

As Arthur was about to move forward, Dutch spoke first.

"I heard your plan succeeded?"

Arthur flicked the snow off his hat brim and nodded.

"What happened on the ship?" Everything had happened so quickly that it seemed abnormal to Arthur. He used to avoid thinking too much, and he still didn't want to, but he couldn't help it now.

Although he had a rough idea of what had transpired on the ship, he needed to hear it from Dutch.

From the start of the operation to the failed plan and escape, the police had acted swiftly, as if they had been waiting for Dutch and his gang to fall into their trap. Arthur was certain someone had betrayed them.

He was waiting for Dutch's explanation. The coal lamp in his hand emitted a faint glow and warmth.

"We missed you. That's all."

Arthur smiled wryly at this sentimental and vague answer.

"Let's go."

Charles approached them, leading two horses. "Hey! I thought you might need horses."

Charles was bundled up tightly, with a cloth wrapped around his head under his cowboy hat. Despite the snow obstructing his vision, Arthur could see the bandaged left hand, which was bleeding again from gripping the reins.

Arthur remembered that Charles had also participated in Dutch's "brilliant" robbery plan. Fuck, Micah's great plan.

Taking the reins from Charles, Dutch discouraged him from joining them, telling him to go back inside and rest.

"Your hand needs proper rest."

"I'm fine, Dutch."

"Get back inside, boy."

"We need you to get better, Smith." After persuading him, Arthur mounted his horse and followed Dutch, struggling to ride through the snowstorm.

"I don't know what we'll find out there, Dutch."

"I don't know either. Stay close to me and try to follow the road. This damn weather has been going on for over two days; it should be ending soon."

Riding through the snow-covered mountains, the world was silent except for the howling wind. The landscape was a pristine white, with the horses' hooves leaving tracks in the snow as they crossed a small bridge over a stream.

Maybe it was the silence of riding that made them want to talk, or maybe speaking would make them feel less cold. Dutch broke the silence.

"Arthur, I need your help to restore everyone's confidence. You're the only one I can rely on now."

Arthur didn't know how to respond. Shouldn't Dutch be trying to restore my confidence in him first?

"Dutch..."

"Wait, is someone coming towards us?"