Had he never shed his past life, Dutch would have reveled in the bizarre elements woven into the fabric of the game, finding morbid delight in their strangeness. But now, truly living within this world, every supernatural anomaly sent a shiver of dread down his spine. The fewer the oddities, the better. If Saint Denis truly teemed with vampires, what in God's name would he do then?
He wrestled his emotions into submission, crushing the unsettling thoughts of these grotesque possibilities. They were, after all, low-probability events, statistical anomalies that shouldn't derail his meticulously crafted plans. Dutch rose, a faint smile touching his lips, his mood brightening as if a heavy cloud had lifted. He pulled back the tent flap, his gaze sweeping over Miss Molly O'Shea, who was engrossed in a book.
"Oh, my dear Miss O'Shea," he purred, his voice a low rumble. "Let us have a truly pleasant night!"
A muffled yelp, then a drawn-out moan, echoed through the camp. Every soul within earshot felt the night stretch, a symphony of creaking canvas and hushed groans filling the darkness. Goddamn it! Why did Dutch's needs seem so impossibly potent these past two days?
The next morning dawned, crisp and clear. The members of the Van der Linde Gang stirred slowly, emerging from their tents like figures from a dream, washing away the vestiges of sleep before gathering for a communal meal.
A new presence, a figure of effortless charm, already moved among them. Mr. Trelawny, having journeyed a vast distance, had used his own mysterious methods to track down the gang's hidden encampment.
"Hey, Trelawny," Arthur greeted, lighting a cigarette, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watched the dapper man approach. "What brings you here?"
Trelawny, brimming with barely contained excitement, returned the greeting. "Oh, Arthur, it warms my very soul to see you gentlemen back on track. However, this time, I've brought news… news I suspect you'll find most intriguing."
"News? What news?" Arthur flicked his cigarette butt, grinding it under his heel.
Just then, Strauss, his pockets heavier by the hundred dollars Dutch had given him earlier that morning, approached. He placed a small bag on Pearson's makeshift table, then turned to Arthur. "Arthur, I found a letter for you at the post office. I believe it might pique your interest. The sender is Miss Mary Linton."
Trelawny, his news still unspoken, was instantly abandoned. Arthur's face, usually a mask of stoicism, shifted, a flicker of something raw and hopeful crossing his features. He moved towards Strauss with an almost desperate urgency.
From a distance, Dutch, just emerging from his tent, observed the exchange with a knowing smile before striding over. "Mr. Trelawny, a pleasure to see you again. Though, I fear your timing may be a touch… unfortunate this time. Our gang is on the precipice of a radical transformation. No longer shall we engage in those damned bandit activities, partner."
Dutch's eyes gleamed, a subtle warning in their depths. "But in this new enterprise, it seems we can still stand together, Mr. Trelawny."
Dutch knew Trelawny had come to deliver news of Sean, but he couldn't openly betray that knowledge. Instead, he used the opportunity to subtly inform Trelawny of their shift in focus, laying the groundwork for his future assistance. Trelawny, a man who thrived on cunning and deception, would find their future endeavors, which yielded no immediate, tangible income until fully established, a hard pill to swallow. A heads-up was necessary.
Seeing Dutch approach, Trelawny swiftly stepped forward. "Oh, Dutch, sir, it's been too long. I've truly missed your charming presence. However, I haven't come with business news this time. Instead, I recently caught wind of Sean… in Blackwater."
"Sean?" Dutch's shock was palpable, a sharp intake of breath. "Shit! That young fool is still alive? Excellent, Trelawny, excellent! Where is our lost lamb now?"
Davey and Mac, drawn by the commotion, joined the gathering. Karen, mid-meal, also walked over, a curious tension in her movements. Her history with Sean was murky, a tangled web of unspoken moments, perhaps a fleeting one-night stand.
"Dutch," Trelawny recounted, accepting a cigar from Dutch with both hands, a look of immense honor on his face. "While I was wandering through Blackwater, I saw Sean. He'd been captured by bounty hunter Ike Skelding's men. Word is, he's about to be shipped off to Saint Denis for trial. I thought you'd need this news, so I rode straight here."
Dutch's face clouded with sorrow, a deep pity settling in his eyes. "Oh, poor Sean. They say he was beaten savagely, but he never broke. Perhaps… perhaps you can save him."
"Oh, poor Sean," Dutch repeated, his voice laced with genuine grief. "John, David, Charles, Javier, you will go with Mr. Trelawny. Bring Sean back. Rescue that poor child from hell itself."
He turned, his gaze sweeping over the chosen men. "Children, go! Bring Sean back, and then we will proceed with our subsequent plans. Mr. Trelawny, please return once this matter is concluded. Your share in our transformation, our new direction, has already been accounted for."
His voice sharpened, a command in his tone. "Remember, waste no time, gentlemen. Our plan must proceed in an orderly fashion!"
"Alright, Dutch!" Trelawny beamed, genuinely pleased. He hadn't expected Dutch to include him in the gang's new venture. The absence of Micah in camp today was an added bonus, a true double blessing.
The Van der Linde Gang's meticulously planned discussion for the day was, as expected, derailed. But this, too, fell within Dutch's grand scheme. Trelawny's arrival, precisely within the predicted timeframe from the stories, was no surprise at all.
"Giddy up!"
The chosen men mounted their horses, thundering out of the Horseshoe Overlook camp with Trelawny leading the charge. Horseshoe Overlook truly lived up to its name, a perfect sanctuary, its dense, encompassing forest effectively cloaking the gang's presence.
Watching their departing figures, Dutch turned, his eyes falling on Arthur. Arthur had just finished reading Mary's letter, his expression an unreadable tableau of complex emotions. Dutch approached him, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and chuckled.
"Oh, Arthur, guess what I just saw? I witnessed a fairy tale prince going on a date with his beloved princess! How utterly charming!"
"Shut up, Dutch!" Arthur snapped, his face flushed, an uneasy tremor in his voice. His affection for Mary had, against all odds, endured the years, undiminished. The sudden arrival of her letter had sent a jolt of surprise through him, followed by an inexplicable nervousness. Though the letter subtly hinted at a desperate need for his help, he felt an almost childish thrill. Perhaps this was the enduring allure of a 'white moonlight' love, pure and untouchable.
But the harsh reality was that Mary, or rather, Mrs. Linton, was married.
Seeing Arthur's flustered, yet prideful, attempt to save face, Dutch burst into hearty laughter. "Arthur, hahaha. But I truly believe you could bring Miss Mary Linton over. Our gang is transforming, Arthur, and believe me, we will soon shed our outlaw skins. You two might even have another child, build a family of your own."
Dutch clapped Arthur's shoulder once more, then turned and walked towards his own tent, his expression now serious.
"Arthur, I'm giving you one day to put your affairs in order. Tomorrow, you will follow Hosea and me to Saint Denis. We need to begin paving the way for our new lives."
Dutch waved a dismissive hand, signaling Arthur was free to go.
Dutch refrained from judgment regarding Miss Mary Linton's character. Her initial indifference during the first mission had been jarring, but the second mission had revealed a deeper, more nuanced side to her. He suspected Rockstar Games hadn't fully fleshed out her character arc, otherwise, their emotional connection wouldn't feel so… abrupt.
But from Arthur's perspective, Mary Linton could never be deemed a 'bitch,' for they had, in their own tragic way, shared a profound, beautiful love. Dutch wouldn't interfere. He would simply offer his blessings.
As for Sadie, a character many players romantically linked with Arthur, Dutch knew better. She never harbored such feelings for him. Her deepest devotion remained with her deceased husband. Even later, as a hardened bounty hunter, her every action was driven by a death wish, perpetually charging headfirst into danger.