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They rode out under the rising sun, the forest swallowing them as easily as it had Dutch the night before. They search around, until they finally found him near a ravine. Dutch stood at the edge, staring down into the mist below as though considering the drop.
Caleb dismounted first, before followed by Hosea and then Arthur who separated with John and encounter them.
"Dutch," he called.
Dutch turned slowly.
His smile was wrong.
Too calm. Too empty.
"Oh," he said softly. "You came."
Arthur dismounted beside Caleb, his hand hovering near his holster, every muscle tight. "You need to come back."
Dutch laughed, a quiet, hollow sound. "Do I?"
Hosea stepped forward, voice steady but heavy with sorrow. "Yes. You do."
Dutch's eyes flicked between them, sharp and suspicious. "You sendin' him to fetch me now?"
"This ain't about pride," Hosea said. "It's about safety."
"Yours," Dutch replied. "Or mine?"
Caleb stepped closer, boots stopping a careful distance from the ravine's edge. "Both."
Dutch's gaze snapped to him, burning with something feral.
"You think you won," Dutch said quietly. "You think because they look at you now, you've replaced me."
Caleb shook his head. "I don't want your place."
Dutch scoffed. "Liar."
"I want them alive," Caleb said. "That's it."
Dutch's smile widened, cold and hollow. "Then you should've let me here alone isn't it. After all, all of you think that I was the one who put everyone in danger."
He stepped back, too close to the edge.
Arthur tensed. "Dutch—"
Dutch raised a hand. "Listen to me."
They did.
"When this all comes crashing down," Dutch said softly, "don't say I didn't warn you."
Caleb met his eyes. "Come back."
Dutch stared at Caleb for a long moment… and then he laughed.
Not a warm laugh. Not the booming, theatrical one the camp used to know.
This one was thin. Cracked. Almost relieved.
"Did you even listen to yourself?" Dutch said, shaking his head slowly. "Come back? You really think anyone wants me back?"
His eyes flicked to Hosea. To Arthur. Then settled again on Caleb, sharp and accusing.
"Especially you."
He spread his arms wide, boots scraping dangerously close to the ravine's edge, mist curling far below like the breath of something waiting.
"Here," Dutch continued, voice taking on a strange, almost reverent calm, "here I finally found it. Solace. Sanctuary. I ain't gotta pretend anymore. Ain't gotta be the man they want me to be."
He tilted his head back slightly, breathing in the forest air.
"I can finally be my truest self," he said. "Free. Real. The American freedom we always talked about."
Hosea's face tightened, pain cutting deep lines into it. He stepped forward carefully, palms open.
"Dutch… calm yourself," he said softly. "You ain't soundin' like yourself."
Dutch scoffed.
"This... this ain't you," Hosea continued, voice trembling but firm. "Not the man I knew. Not the man I rode with for years. Step away from the edge. Come back with us. Please."
Dutch shook his head, slow and deliberate.
"No," he said.
Then, without warning, his hand moved.
Steel flashed.
Dutch drew his revolver and leveled it at them.
The metallic click echoed far too loud.
The change was instant.
His voice dropped into something harsher. Angrier. Stripped of all charm.
"I ain't goin' back," he snarled. "Not to that accursed camp. Not to that so called family that betrayed me and stabbed me in the back."
Arthur's eyes widened. Hosea froze in shock.
"All of you," Dutch continued, eyes wild now, "turnin' on me… for this nobody."
The revolver's barrel traced up and down Caleb's body.
"This thing I dragged in," Dutch spat. "He took everything from me."
Arthur raised his hands slowly. "Dutch! Put the gun down! You outta your damn mind?"
Hosea echoed him, voice urgent. "Dutch, don't do this. Please."
Dutch didn't even look at them.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
Caleb didn't flinch.
He was watching Dutch's hand.
His breathing slowed.
'One to three shots,'his mind calculated instantly. 'First center mass. Second instinctive follow up. Third if panic sets in.'
His perception sharpened unnaturally, every detail etched into clarity, the twitch in Dutch's jaw, the slight tremor in his wrist, the uneven stance near the ravine's edge.
Arthur took a step forward. "Dutch, open your eyes, for God's sake!"
Dutch laughed again.
"Oh, Arthur," he said mockingly. "You're the most naive one here."
Arthur's jaw clenched.
"You don't see it," Dutch continued. "Me, him, Hosea, we all know how this ends. Someone's gettin' hurt today. Either me… or him."
Hosea's voice cracked. "That ain't true."
Dutch snapped his gaze to Arthur. "It is. Only way this gets settled."
Arthur growled, "That ain't the only way."
Dutch smiled thinly.
"All of you made it the only way."
Then he pulled the trigger.
The world snapped into Dead Eye immediately for Caleb at the same time.
Everything slowed, color draining into a golden haze.
Caleb moved.
He dove hard to the right as the first shot cracked past where his head had been a heartbeat earlier, bark exploding from a tree behind him. He rolled, already drawing his lasso in one fluid motion as Dutch fired again, the second bullet tearing through empty air.
Arthur shouted and charged forward, desperation pulling his focus.
Dutch's eyes flicked to Arthur for half a second.
That was all Caleb needed.
He rose from the roll, spun, and hurled the lasso.
The rope snapped tight around Dutch's torso with brutal precision.
Caleb planted his boots and yanked.
Dutch lost his footing, the revolver flying from his hand as he slammed face first into the dirt, away from the ravine's edge.
The Dead Eye haze vanished.
Arthur stared in stunned disbelief for half a second… then rushed forward. He kicked the revolver out of Dutch's reach and was on him instantly, knee in Dutch's back, wrenching his arms behind him.
"Don't you move!" Arthur roared.
Dutch thrashed, spitting curses, madness blazing in his eyes.
Hosea hurried to Caleb's side, gripping his arm. "Are you hurt?"
Caleb exhaled, Dead Eye fading as the world snapped back to normal speed. "I'm fine," he said, breath steady. "Lucky."
Hosea closed his eyes briefly, relief washing over him. "Thank God."
Arthur keep Dutch on the ground as he struggled. "You damn near killed him!"
Dutch spat dirt, snarling incoherently.
Hoofbeats thundered through the trees.
John and Charles burst into the clearing first, guns drawn, eyes wide as they took in the scene. Javier followed close behind.
"What happened, hermano?" Javier demanded, rushing to Caleb's side.
Before Caleb could answer, Hosea spoke, his voice heavy with grief. "Dutch has lost his mind. He tried to shoot Caleb. Said things… worse than last night."
He looked down at Dutch, who was still cursing, eyes wild. "This ain't the man we knew."
Charles went to Arthur, helping him secure the rope tighter. John grabbed Dutch's discarded revolver and put in inside his satchel for safe keeping.
Dutch laughed even as they bound him. "You think this fixes it?" he spat. "You think tying me up makes you right?"
Arthur hauled him to his feet, fury and heartbreak mixing in his voice. "Shut up."
More riders arrived, Sadie, Bill, Lenny, and Sean, drawn by the gunshots. The sight of Dutch bound near the ravine stunned them all into silence.
Sadie's hand hovered near her gun. "Jesus Christ…"
Arthur looked at everyone. "We're goin' back to camp."
He shoved Dutch forward. "And he ain't goin' nowhere. Not like this. He's a danger to himself and all of us."
Dutch continued muttering, venomous words spilling from him, but no one answered.
Arthur swung him onto the back of his horse, wrists tied tight, legs secured.
Caleb mounted his own horse slowly, the weight of what had just happened settling deep in his chest.
As they rode back through the forest, the morning light filtered weakly through the trees.
No one spoke.
The sound of hooves was the only thing breaking the silence.
By the time the camp came into view, the truth was undeniable.
Dutch van der Linde was no longer their leader.
He was their prisoner.
And whatever came next… would decide the fate of all of them.
They rode straight into camp.
No attempt at subtlety. No attempt to soften what had happened.
The horses were hitched one by one, leather creaking, hooves stamping uneasily as if even the animals could feel the wrongness hanging in the air. Arthur dismounted last. Without ceremony, he hauled Dutch off the back of his horse and slung him over his shoulder.
Dutch didn't resist.
That was the part that unsettled everyone most.
His arms were bound, his head hanging forward, blond hair falling like a curtain to hide his face. His boots dragged through the dirt as Arthur carried him toward the center of camp, past the fire, past the tents, past the faces that had once lit up whenever Dutch walked by.
Now those faces twisted in shock. Gasps rippled through the camp.
Pearson, wiping his hands on his apron, rushed forward, his face a mask of confusion and horror. "Arthur—!" he blurted, hurrying forward, hands raised as if to stop an oncoming train. "Arthur, what in God's name are you doin'?! That's… that's Dutch! You can't just… tie him up like some common criminal!"
Arthur didn't break stride. He fixed Pearson with a look so full of weary anguish that the cook fell back a step. "We are common criminals, Pearson," Arthur said, his voice flat and final. "And I'm doing this because he's a danger to himself and to every single one of us."
Pearson froze mid step, mouth opening and closing without sound.
He walked past the sputtering cook and deposited Dutch roughly into the chair that sat outside Dutch's own tent, the chair where Dutch had once held court, spinning dreams and giving orders. The symbolism was cruel and inescapable.
Hosea came up beside the stunned Pearson, placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "None of us wanted this, Pearson," he said, his voice low and trembling slightly. "But he drew his gun on us. On Arthur, on Caleb, on me. He fired at Caleb. Twice. Arthur's right. This man… this isn't the Dutch we knew."
Pearson stared from Hosea's grief stricken face to Dutch's slumped, unresponsive form, his own face crumbling as the reality sank in. He stumbled back, muttering incoherently, the foundation of his world cracking.
The rest of the camp, Strauss peering from his wagon, Molly frozen with a cigarette halfway to her lips, Karen and Tilly clutching each other, Uncle actually sober and wide eyed, watched in stunned disbelief.
Mary-Beth broke from the group, her skirts flying as she ran to Caleb. Her hands flew to his face, his arms, checking for injuries, her eyes wide with terror. "Are you hurt? Tell me the truth!"
Caleb caught her hands, holding them still. "I'm fine, Mary-Beth. Truly. He was… unsteady."
Her breath shuddered out of her. "Thank God…"
"He was tired, I think. Spent the whole night talking to himself by that ravine. His aim was off." Caleb continued as he kept his voice calm, trying to ground her, but the memory of those two shots in the amber haze was sharp in his mind.
Mary-Beth swallowed, eyes darting briefly to Dutch before she nodded. "That's… that's not good."
"No," Caleb agreed. "It isn't."
From the direction of the chair, a voice cut through the murmurs. Arthur was standing over Dutch, his posture rigid. "Dutch. You calm now? You hear me?" There was no response. Dutch continued to stare at the ground between his boots.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 7/10
- Luck: 8/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 4)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 4)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 4)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 4)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 4)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 3)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 2)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 4)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 4)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,726 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 112,892 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 65 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, & 1 Broken Pirate Sword
Bank: -