[ Bonus Update Progress: 13/20]
Chapter 27: New horse, New Weapon, New Boss
"Mama! Can I have a gun of my own?"
Little Jack, perched beside the wagon, blinked his innocent eyes and looked up at his mother in eager anticipation.
Abigail frowned at the request and answered without hesitation,
"No, my dear Jack. You're going to grow up to be a respected, elegant writer, not like that good-for-nothing father of yours who's always fooling around with dangerous firearms.
You just keep an eye on Papa, all right?"
With that, she turned away and set about looting everything within reach.
Right now their tiny family had to keep itself alive on its own.
Just then Hosea led a towering black Shire Horses toward Johnny, murmuring as he walked,
"Hey, Johnny! I know you love collecting beat-up old guns, but honestly I can't see what use that pile of junk could be.
Oh, right, I passed Colm's Stable just now and spotted a beautiful white Shire Horses inside. Thought I might fetch it for you so you'd have a roomier wagon.
After all, the one you're using belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Adler, and word is they're heading off to start a new life in a new city, so we shouldn't keep their things forever."
The kindly old man had always looked after every member of the Gang in his own warm-hearted way,
and the thought always brought a wordless lump to Johnny's throat and stung his eyes.
Meanwhile Dutch led Colm's magnificent mount from the hitching post beside the house—
an Arabian Horse glossy as midnight, standing proud as if born to rule.
Dutch strode toward Arthur, who had just scavenged a barrel of kerosene from the house.
He offered the reins with a smile.
"Arthur! I know your Boadicea was lost to you in the Blackwater Town disaster.
The horse you're riding now isn't much good. But Colm's mount has lost its master; perhaps this is the greatest service it can render after death.
With a steed like this you can ride free across this vast American land again."
Arthur said nothing, merely accepted the reins; between him and Dutch, words were no longer needed.
Once Hosea and Johnny had finished assembling a new wagon, Johnny began loading his gear.
First he carried Mr. Marston from the old wagon to the new, then stacked the others' collected firearms carefully, keeping clear of John to give him space.
When that was done Johnny walked up to Colm and stripped him clean, leaving nothing but his underclothes.
Kieran watched in terror and despair.
He saw these ruthless men show no mercy to the living and not even spare the clothes of the dead.
The brutality convinced him he was doomed.
The thought broke him; he sobbed uncontrollably, tears streaming down his cheeks.
At the same time Johnny handed the scavenged clothes, hat, and a pistol up to Mr. Marston in the wagon.
John took them with a puzzled frown. "Johnny, what's this? You think I'm short of clothes?"
Johnny waved his hands frantically, trying to explain.
Despite his hurried words John didn't quite follow; he grew angry and shouted that he would see Dutch and have it out.
Hearing the commotion, Dutch and Arthur hurried over. Before Arthur reached them his sharp tongue fired like a gun:
"Oh! Little John, crying for Dutch—missing a daddy's love, are we?"
Arthur swaggered up, mocking as he came.
John's feelings for this brother ten years his senior were mixed:
deep respect on one hand, and on the other an exasperation with Arthur's merciless mouth.
Now, publicly ridiculed, John flushed, bit his lip, and shot Arthur a furious glare.
Dutch stepped in, motioned for quiet, and told John solemnly that this had been his plan all along.
He announced that from this day forward John would be the leader of the ODriscoll Gang.
John stared, startled; then his eyes rolled back and he fainted.
Arthur realized he'd gone too far and moved to help John lie down.
Johnny came over with a carcano rifle and offered it to Arthur.
"Arthur, this one's in good shape—kept it for you. You'll put it to better use!"
Arthur took it, clapped Johnny's shoulder, and praised, "Not bad yourself. I saw your work—most shots in the head. Already better than that unreliable Sean."
The two leaned against a wagon wheel and talked.
After a while Arthur rose. "Need to shift my gear from the tennessee walker's saddlebags—guns and bow are still on it."
Johnny slapped his forehead; he'd forgotten too, and they parted ways.
Johnny planned to ride back to Blackwater Town. Getting a bunk from Ms. Grimshaw in the Gang was hopeless; many still had no bed of their own.
He'd have to fend for himself. Sleeping on the ground was torture, and he wanted some comfort.
A cot could be bought in Valentine, but a tent required a real city. Saint Denis was too far; the easiest place was Blackwater Town.
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