"How are we supposed to embrace civilization, Dutch? We're wanted men. You step into civilized society, you get hanged. I don't understand… This ain't like your old way of thinkin'."
Hosea frowned, his voice low and uncertain, tinged with a faint glimmer of hope. He wanted to believe—but Dutch sounded like a different man.
Dutch chuckled softly, his grin crooked and teasing. He glanced at Arthur and the Callander brothers, then waved them over.
"Come on, boys, gather 'round. You too, Hosea. We're stepping into a new age. So quit thinking with your walnut-sized brains!"
Arthur raised a brow, exchanging glances with Mac and David.
Dutch turned back to Hosea.
"Tell me, old friend—what do you think we really need to survive? To stop runnin', to live free, to live safe?"
"Money…? Endless money?" Hosea replied cautiously.
He wasn't wrong—money was the only reason the Pinkertons kept chasing them. In his mind, it was the key to a peaceful life. Arthur and the others nodded in agreement.
Dutch shook his head with a sigh. "No, no, Hosea. That's still old thinking."
Hosea leaned forward. "Then what is it, Dutch?"
Dutch's expression hardened. He raised a clenched fist.
"Fists, Hosea. Guns. Power."
Everyone fell silent.
"Money don't buy freedom. It buys time. And if the army shows up tomorrow, they take everything—including our precious pile of cash. But if we had one hundred thousand men under our command, fully armed? Then nobody in this country would dare stand against us."
He stood, eyes burning with conviction.
"My idea is this—when we come down from this mountain, we start building an arms business. We produce weapons, smuggle them overseas, maybe even start a private security company… or hell, a full-blown army! This country is headed for chaos, Hosea. And in chaos, men need guns. If we're the ones supplying them…"
He let the idea hang in the air.
"Then we'll be law-abiding citizens—because anyone who says otherwise'll already be six feet under."
Dutch grinned, charming and dangerous.
"I've even heard of a place called Guarma… a fine little island, far from prying eyes. The perfect spot to manufacture firearms."
"I have a plan."
That old spark, that magnetic charm—the one that had once drawn everyone to him like moths to flame—blazed once again.
Even if no one fully understood the plan, it stirred something in their hearts. A dream. A purpose.
"But before all that," Dutch said, interrupting their thoughts, "let's take care of Colm first. Arthur!"
Hosea's brow creased again. "Dutch… I might not live long enough to see this future you speak of, but I still want to know what you're planning. I don't want these boys to get caught up in—"
"We'll talk more when we get back," Dutch said, waving it off. "One step at a time, Hosea. First, we burn Colm O'Driscoll to the ground."
He turned and strode out the door.
Hosea hesitated, then followed. He was old, and Dutch's vision sounded more like a dream—or a scam. But even if he disagreed, he always stood by his friend.
That had never changed.
---
Later That Day – Snowy Trails
A small cavalry team rode through the snow-blanketed mountains toward the plot's next waypoint. Dutch led the way on his horse, The Count. The blizzard made conversation difficult, but Arthur urged his horse forward to speak.
"Dutch," he called, "that plan of yours—are we really gonna do it?"
Arthur rarely questioned Dutch in the early days. And even after Blackwater, his loyalty never wavered. He'd stood by Dutch's side, even when Hosea had doubts.
Now, after watching Dutch take three bullets just to buy time for the gang to escape, Arthur's admiration had reached near reverence. The same was true for David, John, Jenny, and even Micah—though for different reasons.
(Well… not Sean. He'd been knocked out and kidnapped by the Pinkertons at the start of the robbery. But Dutch was confident that Trelawny would take care of that at Horseshoe Overlook.)
Micah, on the other hand, was only still breathing because Dutch hadn't decided otherwise yet.
Riding up front, Dutch glanced at Arthur, then smiled.
"My plan, Arthur… it's foolproof. Or at least, it's the best shot we've got. We're wanted men. Ain't no future waitin' for us in a rocking chair and a glass of whiskey."
He took a long breath.
"You wanna get old in a prison cell, son? Sick and weak? Surrounded by Pinkertons with sticks and twisted appetites?"
Dutch let out a low chuckle.
Arthur laughed. "Hell no."
David joined in, laughing beside him.
Dutch turned back with a grin. "Didn't think so. Only man who'd enjoy that is Bill. Ain't that right, Bill?"
"Goddammit, Dutch! What did I do this time?! You better hope I don't save your ass again, you jackass!"
The group erupted in laughter, riding through the snow with renewed energy.
Dutch laughed with them. For a moment, he felt like himself again—or maybe better than the Dutch he'd replaced.
If I didn't have a plan, he thought, even I would start questioning whether I'm the real Dutch at all.
But he did have a plan. One even the real Dutch never dared dream of.
Micah, ever the snake, spoke up from the back.
"Oh Dutch, my most admired father," he drawled, "you know, that money from Blackwater made us fearless long ago…"
No one answered him.
They all remembered who ran first when the bullets started flying.