"Sorry… I mean no offense," Kieran said hesitantly as he watched Mike.
"But… you know… I honestly feel like you people aren't much different from the O'Driscolls."
"Oh?" Mike chuckled softly.
"These days I've overheard things… You're the same as them outlaws fighting nature and the law just to survive. You all do it for yourselves."
"A pretty accurate summary," Mike replied.
"But here's something to learn: out here, you keep thoughts like that to yourself. If Arthur heard you say that, you might as well say goodbye to your manhood."
Kieran shuddered at once, imagining the horrible end.
But then he looked at Mike with genuine gratitude.
...
Leaving the shed where Kieran was tied, Mike greeted Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Sadie.
Most of the camp gear pots, pans, tools had already been packed. Only bedding for the night remained.
He walked straight to his cabin and pushed open the door.
Inside, two injured men John Marston and Davey Callander lifted their heads.
"Mike," Davey greeted.
"How are the wounds healing?" Mike sat beside them.
"Still hurts, but give it a month or two and I'll be fine," Davey said, rotating his shoulder slightly.
"Same here," John added. "Honestly, I think I'll be up and moving sooner than him. If something comes up, you should let me join."
From the side, Abigail having just tucked in little Jack snorted coldly:
"Look at yourself. You can't even get out of bed without help."
John shrank back with a guilty smile.
After abandoning Abigail and Jack months ago, and after she spent days caring for him when Arthur and Mike dragged him off the mountain, his guilt ran deep.
"I heard from Abigail that you clashed with Dutch earlier?" Davey asked, worried.
"Dutch and Arthur care a lot about loyalty," John added.
"If your loyalty is the gang, you're right," Mike said quietly. "But Dutch's loyalty… is not the same thing."
The room fell still.
John didn't answer he was thinking.
Mike wasn't blunt, but his meaning was unmistakable.
After half a minute of silence, John murmured:
"Dutch is… a charismatic man. He brought us together. And this gang it isn't like other gangs."
"I never denied that," Mike nodded.
Because it was true.
Dutch used to be someone admirable.
"But a runaway wagon rolling off a cliff is still a runaway wagon," Mike said.
"You can't stop it. The only thing you can do… is make sure you don't fall with it."
John sat stunned.
But beside him, Abigail tightened her grip on his hand.
"Jack is five," she whispered.
Her timing was perfect; her plea cut straight into John's heart.
No matter how much they argued, they were still a family.
And he knew he almost died on that mountain…
leaving Jack fatherless.
John swallowed hard.
"Mike… whatever you're planning… as long as it's not joining another gang…"
His voice was conflicted, torn between loyalty and fear for the future.
He wasn't Arthur, who saw Dutch as a father.
But he cared.
And he was terrified.
Terrified of leaving the gang… terrified of staying.
After all, John had left once before.
And came back because he couldn't survive alone.
Maybe this time… was different.
Mike nodded.
"You'll see a different kind of life, John."
Inside, he let out a quiet breath of relief.
John Marston.
Uncle.
Abigail.
Charles.
Sadie.
The first wave of people he hoped to rally secured.
The rest… would depend on what future he could show them.
Because if the ship looked like a leaking wreck, no sane person would climb aboard.