Butterfly

At A Standstill

"What do we do now, Dutch?" Arthur asks his mentor, his father-figure of more than twenty years. "We should have run off someplace else from the start," Hosea mumbles, staring off at the swamp. "The game ain't over yet," Dutch chuckles, anger seeping through his voice as he thinks about those who have the upper hand. "I haven't played my hand."

Hosea and Arthur turn to each other in concern. The older man fears his best friend is slowly going mad with paranoia. And he knows why.

Leviticus Cornwall and the Pinkertons have the gang in their sights, and Dutch is desperate to win. This has turned into a game of kill or be killed—where the victors enjoy the spoils of the fight. But if this continues as Hosea fears, no one in the gang will be left alive.

"What about the women and children, Dutch?" he asks sternly.

Dutch stays silent and this makes his old friend sigh. "We can't let them suffer over this. We need to get them somewhere safe while we get the money we need—where no law can get to until we're ready to move far away from this place," Hosea continues. "We can't stay here. That much is obvious," Arthur says, shaking his head. "Where are we goin' to now?"

Dutch massages his sideburn, calculating as he does. He looks at his two most trusted members. "Will you two have my back?"

Hosea's stern eyes soften at the fear in his voice, and he offers the man a smile. "Of course."

"Always, Dutch," Arthur nods. "But we need more money," he sighs before deciding to confront the man with what has been eating at him for a while now. "And I seen you killing folk in cold blood like you always told me not to."

Hosea's frown returns upon hearing this, wondering what Arthur had seen for him to reprimand Dutch like this. He struggles to get on his feet, gripping the makeshift crutch Pearson made for him. "What did you do?" he says as he stumbles forward, tripping over a lifted plank on the patio. Dutch is instantly at his side, catching the old man before he hits the floor. "It was needed, Hosea. For our survival," he says as he helps Hosea stand, Arthur picking up the crutch and handing it over.

"No more of that, Dutch. From this point forward," Hosea scolds as they sit him down. "I don't care how much you justify it—it ain't helpin' the gang. In fact, I think it's makin' things worse. So for the sake of everyone, Dutch, that ends there."

Dutch stays silent, backing away towards his seat before sighing and looking at Arthur. "There's a bit of country up in Roanoke Ridge, up past Butcher Creek. Take Charles and bring folks up that way. Micah and I will follow," he looks at them both. "I just need time. I ain't got a final plan... yet... Hosea... I ain't got..."

"I'll stay here with you," Hosea says, offering the man some reassurance, grasping his shoulder gently . "You'll be safer up with them," Dutch says, touching the man's hand but Hosea shakes his head. "You're gonna need a voice of reason, Dutch. Now, more than ever, so let me."

Dutch relents, nodding as Arthur bids them goodbye to carry out the man's orders.

Charles, Arthur, John, and Elizabeth ride up to Beaver Hollow—knowing full well what danger lies ahead of them.

The Murfree Brood gang is full of inbred lowlifes that have a hard-on for violence. Their cruelty knows no bounds. Whether it be human, horse, or wildlife—sometimes even their own kin, there is a guarantee of them falling victim to these folk.

"They call my people savages," Charles says as they enter Roanoke Ridge from Lemoyne. "Yet they turn a blind eye towards those more capable of savagery in this world."

"People are idiots, Charles," Elizabeth jumps in as they veer left. "They cast out things they don't understand—like colored folk, strong and independent women, native folks. And then they wonder why the world is crumblin' around them."