Lone Wolf of Saturnine

The Delights of Van Horn

Author's Note:  This story continues after Widow's Second Chance and There's No Place Like Rhodes. However, it is not necessary to read or re-read those fics if you don't want to. I will be intertwining the first three chapters here with some scenes from those two stories so you'll be all caught up. Anywho, thanks for reading, and as always, all comments, concrit or otherwise, are welcome.

It had been a few weeks since Charles had parted ways with Arthur, after the raid on Cornwall's factory. Each day that passed convinced him further it had been a battle they should not have participated in. But Dutch had egged on Eagle Flies, feeding his hate and encouraging recklessness in reaction to the army's transgressions. And for what? It had not prevented the tribe from being forced to flee the area, but it had lessened their population by a dozen men, including the chief's son. In the end, as much as Eagle Flies sought it, Charles saw no glory in his death.

Charles had done his best in helping Rains Fall and his people move before the army retaliated. It had been difficult at first for the Wapiti people to push forward. They were already weakened from Colonel Favours' previous aggression against them. But they needed to get past their devastating grief over the deaths of their men lost in battle. It was their only hope of survival.

Even though Charles knew staying with the tribe was the right choice, he couldn't help feeling conflicted over the decision. There was a part of him that had wanted to join Arthur for the inevitable showdown against Dutch. Maybe Charles could have been an additional voice of reason in discouraging the last train robbery Dutch had started talking about before he'd left.

Because it was, in fact, news of the blatant broad daylight train robbery that had pulled Charles back to Beaver Hollow. It was how he learned of the shootout that had happened west of Annesburg and the collapse of the Van der Linde gang.

Once Charles and Rains Fall found a sufficient settlement, Charles left the tribe in order to learn exactly what had happened to the gang. As Charles drew closer to his destination of Beaver Hollow, information came easily of what had occurred.

When Charles stopped in Strawberry, he learned of the gang's first casualty after his absence: Miss Grimshaw's at Beaver Hollow. As he passed through Valentine, he heard about Dutch's escape, some of it more tall tale than truth he was sure. At Emerald Ranch, Charles overheard the rumor of Micah already attempting to recruit men of his own. But what of his friends?

It was in Van Horn that Charles learned of Arthur's death. The Pinkertons had wasted no time in printing Arthur's likeness in the newspaper, detailing his demise at their hand. They had trapped him and gunned him down, but they glorified it as a moral victory.

Seeing Arthur's scowling face plastered on the front of every newspaper, Charles grieved and lost hope of the possibility for anyone else's escape. It was easier for him to accept they had been killed than to live with a feeble hope they'd made it out. How could they? The law had finally caught up, and been too numerous to evade. Still, the government hadn't yet apprehended Dutch Van der Linde himself. So, maybe there was some hope left, but he couldn't count on it.

Presently, Charles surveyed with rising dread what was once the gang's camp at Beaver Hollow, the tale of its destruction easy for anyone to read. The wagons were shredded with bullet holes. Crates and tables were knocked over in haphazard fashion. The gang's personal belongings, including nightgowns, hats, cigars, tonics, books, papers and more, were carelessly strewn across the grass. Dutch's precious phonograph lay in shambles in front of the cave mouth. It was evidence of a chaotic shootout, a hard one fought, and guilt twisted Charles' gut since he hadn't been there to fight alongside his friends.

As Charles walked throughout the camp, he shook his head at the havoc the Pinkertons had caused. Despite the mess they'd left behind, it didn't take him long to discover Miss Grimshaw. Wild animals had already gotten to her, as she lay rotting in the middle of the camp she'd once cared so much about.