It has to be said, the stable owner might have some questionable kinks, but his craftsmanship is top-notch.

  The saddle, tailor-made for the white horse, ensured both horse and rider were perfectly comfortable.

  A clean body and flowing mane made the white horse, galloping in the sunset, look like an elegant sprite.

  When Stephen rode back to Camp, the others had already packed up.

  Karen was on watch and exclaimed in surprise when she saw Stephen ride in: "Wow… where did this Prince Charming come from, here to pick up his princess?"

  "Riding a white horse isn't just for princes, it could be Tangsen too." Stephen chuckled.

  "Tangsen, what's that?" Karen asked, clearly clueless about the reference.

  It was one of Stephen's greatest regrets – his jokes always fell flat.

  "Never mind, just an eastern monk, don't worry about it."

  Guided by Karen, Stephen tied the horse to the designated post, then looked around, asking, "Where's Dutch? Need to talk to him about something."

  "Don't know, he went out with Hosea, no idea where." Karen shrugged, "What do you need him for?"

  Out already? Just settled down, what are those two up to? Stephen scratched his head, speechless.

  "Something about the O'Driscoll gang, is anyone else around? Where's Arthur?"

  "He's over at the cliff with Charles, having a drink." Karen pointed to the cliff.

  She playfully patted Stephen on the shoulder with a smirk: "Come by my tent for a drink tonight, handsome."

  Stephen quickly refused – he wasn't that kind of guy.

  Pearson was already preparing dinner, he saw Stephen and called out, "Cowboy, you're just in time, the stew's almost ready."

  Stephen walked over, eyeing the bubbling pot curiously: "What's cooking tonight?"

  Pearson proudly announced, "Charles bagged a deer this morning, and I caught two rabbits, plus a plump rat, all stewed with some veggies."

  As he spoke, Pearson scooped up a spoonful of stew and savored it, "I think it tastes amazing! Want a bowl?"

  A rat? Really?

  Stephen suddenly found the pot hard to look at, the Van der Linde gang certainly had strong stomachs, if nothing else.

  "I'm going to find Arthur, need to discuss something important about the O'Driscoll gang, you know." Stephen quickly turned and left.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  "Oh, that is important, don't worry, I'll save some for you." Pearson called after him.

  Please, eat it all yourself! Stephen wailed inwardly.

  Quickly escaping the dark cuisine chef, Stephen found the camp terrifying.

  He went straight to the cliff, where Arthur and Charles were sitting, drinking.

  Seeing Stephen, Arthur raised his bottle, inviting him to join.

  Stephen felt his stomach still a bit delicate from last night’s drinking.

  He waved, refusing, and lit a cigarette, sitting down beside them.

  "Guess what I found?" Stephen began, teasingly looking at them with a grin.

  "Looking like that, what could you find? A decent whorehouse?" Arthur quipped, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

  "Look at you, new clothes, new shoes, even a new hat. Looks like you did pretty well in Valentine."

  "Don't even mention it, it was a nightmare." Stephen covered his face, not wanting to recall last night.

  That spur-of-the-moment idea last night was just awful, Stephen regretted it more and more.

  He took a long drag, as if trying to smoke away the awful memories: "I found the O'Driscoll gang's hideout in Valentine."

  "What? O'Driscolls? A hideout in Valentine?" Arthur looked shocked, Charles watched Stephen with curiosity.

  "They've taken over the Clinic in Valentine and have bought off Sheriff Malloy and the Deputy Sheriff. If our guys go to Valentine and get spotted, what do you think will happen?"

  Stephen said it with a smile, but Arthur didn't find it funny.

  He had dealt with the O'Driscolls for half his life and knew exactly what they were like.

  Charles took a swig of his drink, then asked carefully, "What are you thinking? Taking them out?"

  "Of course, why leave the threat?" Stephen replied matter-of-factly.

  "They have the Deputy Sheriff protecting them, and one wrong move will bring the cops. I can't do it alone, that's why I came to you guys for help."

  "We need to be careful." Arthur said worriedly, "We've just settled down, can't go looking for trouble."

  "Don't worry, I checked it out. There's only the owner and three hired guns. As long as we sneak in quietly and don't fire, we can get out before they know what happened."

  Stephen said confidently, "And as far as I know, they're running a black market there, helping themselves fence stolen goods, so there's gotta be a lot of money there..."

  "Why didn't you say that earlier?" Arthur looked at Stephen with distaste.

  "It's not too late to say it now." Stephen shrugged, "It's a Clinic, how can they not have money, plus we can get a lot of medicine while we're at it."

  "True, we do need those medicines." Arthur nodded, then slapped his thigh: "Let's go then, let's head out!"

  "You serious? Shouldn't we wait for Dutch to come back and talk about it?" Charles asked, confused.

  "Nah, just some O'Driscoll scum." Arthur slapped Charles on the shoulder with excitement: "Let's go now, we'll take care of them tonight."

  Since Arthur had spoken, Stephen and Charles naturally had no objections.

  "You need any weapons? We shouldn't use guns this time." Arthur asked Stephen, "I have some weapons in my wagon, you can go pick something handy."

  "Oh, I've got my own." Stephen went to his cot and took out his longsword, twirling it a few times.

  "Alright." Seeing the sword, Arthur clearly remembered the psychological trauma it had inflicted on him the first time he met Stephen.

  Stephen put the lever-action rifle he got on the snowy mountain into his saddle, slung the longsword over his back, and considered himself ready.

  Arthur and Charles each grabbed a dagger, a bow and arrows, and Charles also grabbed a hatchet.

  "What are we going to do? Gotta have a plan, right?" Charles asked, calmly looking at the two confident figures.

  "Simple, I'll go to the Clinic, pretend to buy medicine and check things out. Stephen, you go check out that Deputy Sheriff in the Sheriff's office. Charles, you wait outside for us." Arthur stated his plan plainly.

  "We move at midnight, once the door's open, it's just three thugs, one for each of us."

  Definitely Arthur's style – simple and brutal. Stephen thought to himself.

  Or maybe, the real masters are just unskillfully skillful?