"Looks like Sheriff Malloy doesn't see me as a real friend after all—he just stood there and watched my brother get attacked."
"Is this how the Valentine Police Department handles things?"
Davey had expected something like this to happen, but he hadn't known exactly when.
And since no one in the gang was going to die over it, he hadn't taken it too seriously.
The moment the gunfire broke out, Davey received word. He headed straight to the Valentine Police Station to demand answers.
Stopping the police from giving chase was also a way of saving the Valentine officers' lives.
With their level of skill, going up against sharpshooters like Arthur and Dutch would be nothing short of suicide.
"Mr. Land, Cornwall showed up far too suddenly. I had no notice—he didn't send word, and he didn't contact me."
"This was his own personal operation."
"And we never actually went after your friend, did we?"
Sheriff Malloy hurried to explain. He had no desire to offend the man funding him.
Since partnering with Davey, the sheriff's life had become much more comfortable. Of the $500 he received each month, $300 went straight into his own pocket, and Davey also supplied the department with plenty of contraband liquor.
"All right, Sheriff. I trust you'll continue to support me as always."
Davey didn't push further. He knew that not pursuing the gang was already the limit of what Sheriff Malloy could do.
There was no way he could ask him to go after Cornwall—Cornwall was a tycoon, after all.
...
Horseshoe Overlook Camp.
"Looks like the Valentine officers aren't chasing us. Maybe Davey stepped in," Arthur said.
Just hearing Davey's name soured Dutch's mood.
"If he really wanted to help us, he wouldn't have let John and Strauss get caught."
"And he sure wouldn't have kept Cornwall's return to Valentine from us."
"Enough. Now that Cornwall knows we're nearby, he'll bring in the Pinkertons. We can't stay here. We need to find a new camp."
After his one jab at Davey, Dutch quickly shifted the topic. He clearly didn't want to dwell on it.
"John! John, what's wrong? What happened to you?"
Dutch and the others' noisy return drew every eye in camp.
The moment Abigail saw John with blood all over his face, she nearly collapsed and rushed toward him.
John was touched by her concern and tried to reassure her.
"It's nothing, Abigail. Just scraped myself a bit. A small wound. Really—don't worry."
Abigail looked him over anxiously, and when she spotted the cut on his forehead, she gasped.
"John, you call that a small wound? Come with me—now. I need to clean it and put something on it."
...
That evening, Charles returned from hunting, and Hosea slipped back into camp after scouting for information and identifying potential targets for robbery or swindling.
Dutch shared the day's events with everyone, then went with Hosea to talk strategy.
Inside the tent, Hosea listened to Dutch's plan and finally asked:
"So… we just keep heading east? That's the plan?"
"For now," Dutch replied. "Trelawny still isn't back. We don't have a better location yet."
Hosea's voice was thick with doubt.
"And when do we stop? When we reach Paris?"
Dutch spread his hands.
"Oh, that wouldn't be bad. Maybe we can join the Paris Commune."
The little joke did nothing to lighten the mood, so Dutch continued:
"We'll settle once we find the right spot."
"Shake off Cornwall's men—or the Pinkertons—and keep our heads down."
Hosea shot back, "And this is what you call keeping our heads down? We've already turned into a pack of killers. Honestly, Dutch."
"Killers, yes. We never pretended to be anything else."
Dutch tried to calm him.
"Hosea, we're just trying to survive. We don't have a choice. This will all be over soon."
But Hosea wasn't buying Dutch's empty promises anymore.
Unlike many in the gang, he understood just how bad things had become.
"You're right. It'll be over soon," he said. Then he stepped out of Dutch's tent.
Arthur, having overheard the argument, walked up.
"Dutch, do you have a plan now?"
Dutch pulled out a map.
"Arthur, I do. Micah Bell told me he found a good spot. Look here—Dewberry Creek. Maybe you and Charles can go take a look, clear out anyone you find there."
"Then we can move the whole camp. We stand out too much here."
Arthur asked, "And what exactly do you want us to do?"
Dutch shrugged.
"No idea. Maybe we start with a warm-up dance?"
The small joke lifted Arthur's mood slightly.
"Guess that makes me the errand boy now."
With word of the relocation spreading through camp, everyone began packing.
At that moment, Abigail approached John.
"John… maybe it's time for us to leave."