After Johnny's thunderous, soul-shaking speech, Dutch stood stunned, momentarily lost, the young man's impassioned words echoing endlessly in his mind.
He stared unblinkingly at the youth opposite him, complicated feelings swirling in his gaze.
As seconds slipped by, Dutch felt ever more strongly that the vigorous, idealistic young man before him was the very image of his younger self.
They shared the same sharp mind, the same fearlessness in the face of hardship, the same resolve to fight an unjust fate—right down to their tastes, which matched uncannily.
The thought set Dutch's heart racing; he itched to share this astonishing discovery with his right arms—Hosea and Arthur.
So he patted Johnny's shoulder gently. "Son, you've done enough for today. Go get some rest."
Watching Johnny's retreating back, Dutch drew a steadying breath, then strode toward the blazing hearth that radiated waves of heat.
Moments later, by the warm hearth, Arthur, Hosea, and Dutch sat with steaming cups of coffee, heads together, quietly discussing Colm ODriscoll.
Hosea frowned thoughtfully. "I say we leave the oil tycoon Cornwall alone and just give Colm a lesson he won't forget."
But Dutch shook his head firmly, sharp eyes flashing with resolve. "No. This is our chance to kill two birds with one stone. We rid ourselves of Colm and rob that fortune-laden train in one swoop."
Arthur stifled a sigh. He knew Dutch, stung by the recent defeat, needed a flawless plan to restore his standing with the gang.
So, though he had reservations about the risky scheme, Arthur merely nodded in silent assent.
Seeing Dutch so set, Hosea offered no further protest and shifted the topic to Johnny. The tension among the three eased at once. When Arthur heard Dutch's praise of the lad, he burst out laughing. "Dutch, you two have one more thing in common—you both love saying 'I have a plan.' The first time I met the kid, I thought I was looking at a young you."
Night passed.
Johnny woke slowly from sleep, opened his eyes—and found a hulking giant looming over him.
Startled, he blurted, "What the hell!" and sat bolt upright. "Arthur, haven't you heard of manners?"
Arthur shrugged. "If you don't get up now, there won't be any breakfast left."
Realizing Arthur had simply come to wake him, Johnny scratched his head in embarrassment.
He followed Arthur to breakfast—and regretted the first bite.
Good Lord, this wasn't food; it was random ingredients flung into a pot, boiled to death, then dusted with coarse salt.
The taste was abysmal, but hunger and courtesy forced Johnny to empty the bowl.
Afterwards Arthur wiped his mouth on his sleeve and said, "Dutch heard about your family. He sent me to help you. First thing today we'll find what your folks left behind and put up a proper headstone for them."
Johnny nodded. "I've a few things to finish. When I'm ready, I'll call you, Arthur."
He stood and strode briskly toward the Stable.
Outside the Stable he stopped, eyes fixed on his wagon.
He approached and began a careful inventory. The wagon bed was neatly packed.
First, a bundle holding his parents' belongings; beside it, a trunk with season's clothes, a fine pocket watch, and family photographs.
There were also strips of fragrant jerky, several cans, four costly tins of spices, and neatly stacked in a corner, carefully cured wolf meat and perfectly skinned wolf pelts.
Most jarring was a pile of battered guns—trash amid the rest.
When he finished counting, Johnny absently patted his pocket: three hundred ninety-two dollars and twenty-one cents, two boxes of matches, three watches, and plenty of ammunition.
The ODriscoll Gang's old clothes he had already stuffed under his horse's bedding in the Stable—the only useful thing those wastes of skin could offer.
Then it struck him: he still owed fifty dollars to Mr. and Mrs. Adler.
He opened the chest, took out the family pocket watch, slipped it into his satchel, closed the lid, and headed for the nearby cabin.
As he pushed open the Stable door he met Jenny coming the other way, beaming. "Johnny, I washed the clothes you lent me—returning them."
Johnny waved her off. "Keep them, little Jenny. I'm sure my mother would be happy to know they're helping someone in need."
Had Johnny glanced back, he would have seen Lenny Summers on watch, glaring daggers at him.