"Sadie, do you want to kill Kieran Duffy?" Mike Walker asked.
Hearing that, Sadie's steps slowed, hatred filling her face.
"As long as he's from the O'Driscoll gang, he deserves to die!"
"Kieran's just a poor bastard," Mike replied. "The O'Driscolls only kept him because he's good with horses. And the one you really want revenge on should be Colm."
"I thought all of you believed every O'Driscoll should die." Sadie shot him a sharp look.
She wasn't wrong. These days she had seen clearly the hatred between the Van der Linde gang and the O'Driscolls. If Dutch didn't need information from Kieran, he'd probably already be a corpse on the roadside.
"Most of them do deserve to die," Mike admitted. "But some are just victims with no choice."
"That's true." Charles, usually quiet, finally spoke.
"So what?" Sadie snapped back, her eyes burning with vengeance.
"I'm not telling you to let go of your hatred," Mike said, shaking his head. "We all have a score to settle with Colm. None of us would spare him if we had the chance."
He paused, then continued, voice heavy with meaning:
"I just think you should consider what comes after revenge. Once it's done… how will you live your future?"
"Life is long, Sadie."
Sadie fell silent. So did Charles.
Even spotting the distant tracks of an elk didn't stir either of them to speak.
They weren't stupid especially Charles.
If Mike's earlier words hinted at something, then now he was laying everything bare.
"That's a problem for later…" Sadie finally murmured.
"Of course. But people need to look forward."
Then Mike turned to Charles.
"Charles, do you think Dutch and Micah will kill people on that train job?"
Charles' brow tightened, though he didn't answer.
Sadie did her tone laced with irony.
"So what, you all never killed before?"
"People are different," Mike said quietly. "And some bastards don't count as 'people'."
Charles nodded.
He understood all too well.
Federal law preached equality, but that was a joke.
In the West, if someone like him with Black and Native blood died in the wilderness, the law wouldn't even open a case. Unless a good Samaritan found him, he'd rot where he fell.
And if Dutch, Micah, Arthur, and the others attacked a train?
Would they kill the guards?
Especially with Micah involved?
The answer didn't need to be spoken.
Those guards weren't criminals.
They were ordinary men federal citizens.
People whose lives counted.
"Bullseye! Looks like this one will feed us for a few days."
A whistle of wind and the snap of bowstring cut the heavy silence.
Sadie and Charles snapped to attention just in time to see an elk collapse, Mike's arrow sunk deep into its throat.
The animal twitched, bleeding heavily, before going still.
"Sadie, Charles dress the kill. I'll fetch the horses. And think about what I said." Mike smiled lightly, then headed back toward the horses.
Sadie didn't move at first.
She watched Mike's fading silhouette long after he was gone.
"Come on," Charles said, drawing his knife. "Let's get to work."
"Charles… what do you think Mike is trying to do?" Sadie asked as she followed him.
"You know," Charles answered without looking back.
"I'm still not entirely sure…" Sadie admitted, sounding lost.
"No matter what he plans, sticking together is the right move," Charles said as he began cutting into the elk.
"And you?" Sadie asked.
"I've only been in the gang a few months," Charles replied. "I don't know the Van der Linde gang as well as you think."
Then he added quietly:
"But Mike is right about one thing: if we keep living like this, sooner or later another job is going to go wrong. If Mike's the one who's dependable…"
He didn't finish the sentence, but Sadie understood.
"What about you?" Charles asked, glancing at her.
"I agree. And… he saved my life." Sadie said honestly.
Two elk that was all Mike, Charles, and Sadie brought back that day.
But none of them cared about the hunting results.
For all three, this trip had nothing to do with hunting at all.