Twenty

                                    

                                          
And once again you found yourself accompanied by Arthur at night, walking up that hill while you sat on the back of his horse.
The light of the campfire illuminated the trees and made them throw large shadows, like arms that reached through the dark.
The voices filled your ears again. It sounded almost as if this was a small community for happiness.
Like a home to be found.
Arthur let the horse stop behind a tent again.
But it wasn't the same kind of tent from the first visit. It was smaller, with more holes to let air through, and a bed.
"This is mine.", Arthur said and helped you off the horse without you having to ask for it. "You can sit on the bed. I'll fetch Dutch."
With those words he vanished.
He didn't even take the time to tie the horse to something so it wouldn't run off.
Maybe it was a loyal animal and wouldn't run anyways, but you took the reins and tied them around some carriage that was parked nearby.
"Good girl.", you patted Boadicea's neck. "You know, you're such a nice horse, I might want to learn how to ride."
A deep breath escaped the horse. Its eye moved to look at you.
Or at least it seemed like it.
Again, you patted its neck before returning to the tent.
Arthur had offered the bed to sit on, so you did exactly that.
It was a small tent, barely big enough to fit the essentials like a mirror and a bowl filled with water. It was probably where he shaved. Hair was all over the place.
As you sat down, you noticed the softness of the sheets.
Either he had cleaned them or someone at camp was taking on all of these duties. Either way, it felt clean and new.
A harsh yet expensive scent was in the air.
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.
It was his aftershave.
Somehow, it made you smile to know that a man, as rough and pragmatical as Arthur, was vein enough to use such things as aftershave to make himself more presentable to the outside world.
You liked the smell. And it did feel like it suited him a lot more than he would have wanted to admit.
"Ah, our little gold bird!", Dutch's voice suddenly said.
With a polite smile, you turned to face him.
"Good day, mister van der Linde.", you nodded your head in greeting.
"Dutch's fine.", he crossed both arms in front of his chest. "I heard you've got something for me."
"I suppose I do. But Arthur must have told you I come with a request as well."
Dutch smirked. It was a strange expression, so confident, so dangerously unworried.
"Everything comes with a price. Just tell me yours and we've got a deal."
You took a moment to examine Dutch from top to bottom.
He seemed like a man who'd do a lot for the right price.
Maybe even too much.
Perhaps it was also just a matter of the right price to get what you wanted in order to protect Karl.
Arthur appeared behind Dutch. With his chin raised and his hands on his belt, he met your eyes and gently shook his head in a way to tell you to not say whatever you were thinking about.
At his sight, your heart skipped a beat.
He knew what you wanted.
And he also knew that Dutch wouldn't give it to you.
You decided to give it a shot anyways.
"I need a man dead.", you said, dead serious, and placed a handful of platinum on Arthur's bed for Dutch to see. "This is pure platinum. And it's just a bit. I found a cave. I'll tell you where you can find it if you kill someone for me."
Your eyes jumped to Arthur.
He knew where the cave was. He was probably also smart enough to remember how to get there.
One word from him and this entire plan would be for nothing.
But Arthur didn't make a single sound.
With his bright blue eyes glued to Dutch and his clenched hands on his belt, he waited.
Dutch stared the stone.
The light of the campfire got caught in it and made the cracks shimmer like stardust.
His lips curled.
He reached out to grab the stone.
You allowed him to do so.
He was supposed to be convinced by the sheer look of the mineral. And if that couldn't make him decide he'd be impressed by the value of it.
His fingers stroked over the uneven edges of the stone. A bit of the silver shimmer got stuck to them.
All of a sudden, his eyes jumped up to lock with yours.
"This...", he raised the stone. "This isn't worth as much as a man's life. We don't just kill. We aren't murderers."
A smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
He wanted to play the hero.
He wanted you to believe that he truly was a man of honour.
But everything Arthur had told you spoke against that.
"Dutch.", you leaned forward to place another rock on the bed. "I'm not asking you to kill just anyone, but a man who killed his wife and mistreats his son. He's an alcoholic, a man who doesn't know anything but anger. It won't be murder. It will be the boys freedom. You'd do good by killing his father."
Dutch's eyes lingered on the second stone.
Then he glanced up at you again.
"A cave, you said?", he asked. "How much are we talkin'?"
You gestured with a nod of the head towards Arthur.
"Arthur saw it.", you said and met his eyes, so blue, so full of surprise. "He'll tell you how to get there. If we have a deal, that is."
Dutch laughed.
"Arthur?", he asked with one eyebrow raised. "My boy is so loyal to me, he's tell me without the murder."
"No I won't, Dutch.", Arthur suddenly said. "I'm not sayin' you should take the deal. But you should consider. I ain't got nothin' to do with this."