Chapter 4: Calm Before The Storm

  After leaving Dutch’s tent, Sebastian made his way to the stewpot, the rich aroma of cooked meat and herbs filling the air. A few gang members were already gathered around, chatting idly as they filled their bowls.

  Pearson gave him a nod as he ladled out a portion. “You’re up early.”

  Sebastian took the offered bowl and grabbed a piece of bread from the side. “Didn’t sleep much,” he admitted.

  Pearson smirked. “Well, eat up. Can’t have you wastin’ away.”

  Sebastian simply nodded before making his way back to his tent. Settling down on his bedroll, he let out a slow breath, finally allowing himself a moment to relax.

  The warmth of the stew seeped into his fingers as he held the bowl, and he took slow, measured bites, the flavors grounding him. The events of the last night still lingered in his mind, but for now, he focused on the food in front of him.

  Sebastian finished the last bites of his stew, wiping the bowl clean with the remaining piece of bread before tossing it aside. The warmth of the meal settled in his stomach, but it did little to ease the tension creeping into his thoughts. He pushed himself up with a quiet sigh, stretching out his shoulders before stepping out of his tent.

  The camp was starting to wake up properly now. Horses whinnied, voices murmured, and the steady clatter of morning chores filled the air. He caught sight of Arthur near the hitching post, tending to his horse with slow movements.

  Sebastian made his way over, stepping around the others without much of a word. As he approached, Arthur glanced up, giving him a brief nod before returning to brushing his horse’s mane.

  "You're up early," Arthur remarked, his voice carrying that usual rough edge, though not unkind.

  Sebastian shrugged. "Didn’t sleep much. Figured I’d get moving."

  Arthur smirked slightly. "You and me both." He patted the side of his horse’s neck before turning more fully toward Sebastian. "What’s on your mind?"

  Sebastian looks Arthur in the eyes before he asks " You mentioned a few days back, about a lead you and Hosea think you've got?"

  Arthur gave him a long look before nodding. “Yeah, me and Hosea been talkin’. Think we might have somethin’ lined up.”

  Sebastian crossed his arms. “What kind of job?”

  Arthur glanced around the camp before lowering his voice slightly. “Somethin’ big. A stagecoach comin’ through, supposed to be carryin’ a fair bit of cash. Hosea’s got a plan to hit it clean.”

  Sebastian exhaled through his nose, considering. “Sounds better than whatever Micah’s tryin’ to feed Dutch.” He pointed his head toward the tent where Micah was still speaking in hushed tones.

  Arthur followed his gaze, his expression darkening. “Yeah. That bastard always thinks he’s got the best ideas. But Hosea? He’s got a good head for this. If we do it right, we could make off with a good haul, no mess.”

  Sebastian nodded slowly. “When?”

  “Few days,” Arthur said. “Gotta make sure we got all the details worked out. Hosea wants it smooth.” He studied Sebastian for a moment. “You interested?”

  Sebastian smirked faintly. “If it means puttin’ some coin in my pocket, ja.”

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  Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright then. I’ll let Hosea know.”

  Sebastian gave Arthur a small nod. "Appreciate it," he said, his voice carrying the hint of his German accent.

  Arthur simply grunted in response, already returning to his horse, and Sebastian took that as his cue to leave. His body was still weighed down with exhaustion from the past few nights of restless sleep, but there was always work to be done around camp. If nothing else, keeping busy might keep his thoughts from straying too much.

  He made his way over to the chopping block, grabbing an axe and setting a fresh log into place. The rhythmic thunk of splitting wood filled the air as he worked at a steady, unhurried pace. His muscles ached, but the methodical nature of the task was grounding. It was better than pacing around with nothing to do.

  As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he spotted Karen passing by, carrying a tin cup of coffee. "Hey, Karen," he called, setting the axe down for a moment. "You seen the Callander boys around? Or are they out drinkin’ again?"

  Karen snorted, rolling her eyes. "What do you think?" she said, taking a sip. "Those two barely do a damn thing ‘round here ‘less Dutch breathes down their necks. Swear they spend more time at the bottom of a bottle than they do in camp."

  Sebastian huffed a quiet laugh. "Figured as much." He picked the axe back up, shaking his head. "Guess some things never change."

  Karen smirked, leaning against one of the nearby crates. “You’d think with all the trouble stirrin’ up lately, they’d be smart enough to keep their asses in camp.” She took another sip of her coffee. “But no, they’re probably passed out in some saloon or startin’ a fight they can’t finish.”

  Sebastian sighed, setting another log onto the block. “Long as they don’t bring that trouble back here, I don’t much care.” He swung the axe again, the wood splitting cleanly with a satisfying crack.

  Karen chuckled. “You’re soundin’ like Hosea now.”

  Sebastian smirked slightly at that. “Could be worse.”

  Karen shook her head with amusement before pushing off the crate. “Well, don’t work yourself to death, Steiner. You look half-dead already.”

  Sebastian gave her a dry look. “Danke, Karen. Always nice talkin’ to you.”

  She winked before strolling off, humming to herself.

  Sebastian exhaled through his nose and got back to splitting wood, taking his time. His limbs felt heavier than usual, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him, but he pushed through.

  After a while, he set the axe down and rolled his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness. He figured that was enough work for now. Maybe he’d check in with Hosea, see if there was anything else that needed doing. If nothing else, it would give him an excuse to sit down for a while.

  Sebastian dusted his hands off on his pants and started moving towards Hosea’s wagon. The old man was seated on a crate, flipping through a worn ledger, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  “Still countin’ every penny, old man?” Sebastian asked as he approached.

  Hosea smirked without looking up. “Somebody has to, considering how fast we go through them.” He snapped the ledger shut and leaned back, stretching his legs. “You look like hell, son.”

  Sebastian exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not sleepin’ well,” he admitted.

  Hosea studied him for a moment before nodding. “Dreams again?”

  Sebastian hesitated, then gave a small nod. There was no use lying to Hosea he saw right through it every time.

  Hosea sighed, setting the ledger aside. “You know, running yourself ragged won’t help.”

  “I know,” Sebastian said. “Just figured I’d keep busy.”

  Hosea tilted his head slightly, considering. “Well, if you’re lookin’ for something useful to do, Dutch wanted to see you.”

  Sebastian straightened slightly at that. “What for?”

  Hosea shrugged. “Didn’t say. Just told me to send you his way when I saw you.”

  Sebastian exhaled through his nose. “Alright.”

  He turned and started walking to Dutch’s tent, already feeling the weight of whatever conversation was waiting for him.

  Sebastian stepped into Dutch’s tent, pushing aside the canvas flap. Dutch was seated at his desk, a cigar smoldering in his hand, papers spread out in front of him. He barely looked up as Sebastian entered.

  “Ah, Sebastian,” Dutch said smoothly, tapping ash into a tray. “I was just thinkin’ about you.”

  Sebastian crossed his arms. “Hosea said you wanted to see me.”

  Dutch finally met his gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face. “There’s somethin’ big on the horizon.”

  Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

  Dutch grinned. “A ferry, my boy. A ferry comin’ in, carryin’ a whole lotta money. More than enough to set us up real nice.”

  Sebastian frowned slightly. “And you’re sure about this?”

  Dutch chuckled. “Micah’s the one who brought the lead in, and I know what you think of him. But even a snake like Micah has his uses.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “I want you ready, Sebastian. We’re gonna need every sharp gun and keen eye for this one.”

  Sebastian didn’t answer right away. He didn’t like Micah, didn’t trust him, but Dutch was already set on this job.

  Finally, he nodded. “Alright.”

  Dutch’s grin widened. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  Sebastian turned to leave but paused at the entrance. Something about this didn’t sit right with him.

  “Just… be sure about this, Dutch,” he said quietly. “Big jobs like this tend to go south.”

  Dutch waved him off with a chuckle. “Have a little faith, son.”

  Sebastian stepped out of the tent, the uneasy feeling still sitting heavy in his gut.

  Sebastian started walking through the camp, his boots crunching against the dirt as he made his way to Arthur. He found him near the horses, tightening the straps on one of the wagons. The older man glanced up as Sebastian approached.

  “Need somethin’?” Arthur asked, adjusting his hat.

  Sebastian exhaled through his nose. “Can’t help with the stagecoach. Dutch wants me on another job.”

  Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. “Lemme guess ,this ferry nonsense?”

  Sebastian nodded. “Ja. He says it’ll set us up real nice.”

  Arthur frowned, wiping his hands on a rag. “Sounds like another one of Dutch’s big ideas. You trust it?”

  Sebastian hesitated, then shook his head. “Not sure yet. Feels… off.”

  Arthur studied him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I got the same feelin’.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “Guess we don’t got much choice but to see how it plays out.”

  Sebastian crossed his arms. “Seems that way.”

  Arthur patted the side of the wagon. “Well, you take care of yourself on that job. If Micah’s involved, keep your eyes open.”

  Sebastian smirked slightly. “Always do.”

  With that, he turned and walked off, feeling the weight of the coming days settling on his shoulders.