Johnny tallied up the haul. Apart from the ODriscoll Gang under-boss he hadn't bothered to loot, he'd stripped fourteen others clean.
They now owned nothing but ragged flesh and the shirts on their backs, yet corpses needn't go to waste.
Waste was what Johnny hated most; once things cooled down he'd wring every last drop of value from them—using the bodies themselves to bait the mountain wolves.
All told: fifteen dollars in change, three silver pocket watches in fair shape, eleven Syrian battle-scarred cowboy revolvers, three carbine repeating rifles with rifling worn smooth, two boxes of matches, and twenty-three cigarettes.
They'd been dirt-poor, no two ways about it. Johnny sorted everything, stowed it with his own gear, and loaded it onto the wagon.
He feared the ODriscoll Gang might sweep back through; losing everything he'd scraped together would be unbearable.
Meanwhile, Sadie spread a soft blanket and thick quilt with practiced ease, smoothing them across the wagon bed.
Unlike Johnny's small rig, this one was pulled by two sturdy draft horses—roomy enough for people and supplies alike.
Arthur wasn't idle either; he gathered every last cent in the house and tucked it carefully into his satchel.
Together they hauled all the food to the wagon, and from the mantel took the Adlers' wedding photograph.
Inside, Arthur belched contentedly, patted his full belly, stood, and hoisted the unlucky fellow onto the horse.
Then he swung up onto the handsome spotted mount, ready to ride.
Just then Johnny, finished with his own chores, felt a twinge: he'd claimed a fair share of loot that should have been Arthur's.
He gave an apologetic grin and hurried over to share.
Arthur waved him off. "Mr. Van der Linde, you're too kind. Saving little Jenny is help enough for me."
"All I did was fire a few cheap bullets—nothing worth mentioning."
He flicked the reins and the spotted horse walked on.
Johnny knew Arthur's Boediceia had died in Blackwater Town; this spotted horse was borrowed from Charles.
Johnny insisted Arthur take the dun Tennessee Walker as his share; Arthur finally gave in under the barrage of words.
As they prepared to leave, Arthur looked troubled: two Devon steers, a Florida cow, and five sheep still in the pens—too much to drive.
Johnny thought a moment. "I have a plan. Arthur drives the wagon, Sadie rides the Tennessee Walker to herd the stock, Mr. Morgan leads, and I'll bring up the rear with the second wagon."
The truth was he couldn't ride—something he dared not let Arthur know, or he'd never hear the end of it.
They set off in good order. Soon Arthur reined in, talking with someone ahead.
Had Johnny been playing a game, the mini-map would have flashed: legendary animal tracks nearby—go hunt.
The man speaking with Arthur was the very creature players curse for being unskinnable—Micah Bell.
The legendary rat carried a battered lantern, its dim light bobbing in the dark.
His small frame sat astride a mottled, ghost-faced fox trotter horse while he whispered with the towering Arthur.
The wily rat kept shooting greedy glances at the piled supplies, eyes shining.
Arthur looked thoroughly sick of him, answering curtly; tension crackled between them.
Moments later Arthur waved the rat back to camp with orders to report to Dutch.
Luckily Micah never spoke to Johnny; had he come close, Johnny might have blasted two shells of buckshot into the rat's back.
With the rodent gone the ride was quiet; three hours later they reached Pear Knife Village.
Johnny exhaled, anticipation stirring—he was about to meet the fabled leader of the Gang: Dutch van der Linde.
Dutch waited outside. Before they'd even stepped down he called Bill and Javier to stable the wagons and tend the stock, then strode forward.
"My friends, allow me: Dutch van der Linde, head of this family. Thank you for saving mine from freezing to death."
Arthur relaxed; he'd feared Dutch would bristle at his making decisions while fifteen thousand Pinkerton Detectives breathed down their necks after the Blackwater Town robbery.
Mr. and Mrs. Adler voiced their thanks; the cattle were all they could offer in return for Arthur's help.
Though the stock would fetch good money later, death was stalking them now—besides, if Arthur meant to rob them he'd already have taken everything.
Jenny slipped quietly to Johnny's side, too shy to speak while Dutch talked, thanking him with her eyes.
Dutch turned from the Adlers to Johnny.