The world's always unfair, especially out here in the Wild West.

  Kindness is the last thing you need if you want to survive.

  Raphael, having temporarily vented his anger, fell asleep by the campfire.

  Stephen and Arthur led their horses over and tied them to a tree nearby.

  "Think his family's still alive?"

  Stephen asked softly, looking at Raphael's tear-streaked face.

  "Doubt it."

  Arthur sighed, a little helpless. "I know these types. Ending it quick might be a blessing."

  Stephen knew he was right. These guys were inhuman, cruel.

  Even if Raphael's wife and kids were still alive, they'd be barely recognizable.

  The atmosphere turned somber. Neither knew what to say.

  Just like I said, this world is really tough to survive.

  "Didn't expect you to help him."

  After a long pause, Stephen finally spoke. "Not something a bandit usually does."

  "Haha, what did you think we were like?"

  Arthur chuckled, looking curiously at Stephen. "What kind of people did you take us for?"

  Stephen thought for a moment. "Heartless, killers, robbers... not exactly a good impression."

  "But you're as tight as family. Met Lenny back in Strawberry; he didn't seem like a bandit at all."

  "Felt more like a friendly neighbor kid. You know, the guy's great with children."

  Stephen vividly described Lenny哄小孩的故事 to Arthur, who burst out laughing.

  "That's us."

  Arthur covered his mouth, trying not to wake the sleeping Raphael, and grinned. "Dutch once told me we kill who needs killing and save who needs saving."

  "Kill who needs killing, save who needs saving." Stephen nodded. "Good words. Seems like you're living by them."

  "Yeah, we always have."

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  Arthur said slowly. "Dutch and Hosea took me in when I was a kid, raised me.

  John too, and the others. We're all bound together by Dutch's charisma."

  "Life's had its bumps, but we've always been on the right path."

  Arthur looked at Stephen, his face firm. "Never regretted it, not once."

  Watching Arthur's seriousness, Stephen realized this gang was something else.

  Especially its leader, Dutch Van der Linde.

  He used his amazing personal charm to hold together this band of folks from all over the place. A real impressive guy.

  Stephen started feeling a powerful intrigue about the Van der Linde gang, and was a bit tempted to join the team.

  But it was just a passing thought and quickly forgotten.

  Time ticked by, and the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, the world drowning in the darkness.

  A wind picked up in the hills, making the campfire dance wildly.

  Stephen tightened his coat and threw a couple more logs on the fire.

  After running around all day without a proper meal, Stephen was getting hungry.

  He dug out some leftover bear meat from yesterday and two cans of beans, ready to whip up something quick.

  He opened the cans, poked small holes on either side with his knife, and hung them over the fire with some rope.

  Then, he diced the bear meat into small chunks and tossed it into the can.

  The canned beans had some juice in it so he cooked it together.

  Arthur, watching Stephen's trick, copied him.

  The fire had only been burning a short while before there was an inviting smell coming out of the cans.

  The smell woke Raphael, who looked around, a little disoriented.

  "You're up? Grab something to eat. Gonna move out again when it gets dark."

  Stephen carefully handed him a can. "Careful, hot."

  "I... I can't eat." Raphael shook his head. Just thinking of his family killed his appetite.

  "Gotta." Stephen said sternly. "Can't save your family on an empty stomach. Gotta have the strength."

  Those words hit Raphael hard.

  He took the can from Stephen and started eating slowly.

  The canned food wasn't exactly gourmet, and the meat was half-raw, but luckily none of them were picky.

  And right now was definitely not the time to be picky.

  The three sat around the campfire, waiting in silence.

  Stephen leaned against a tree and dozed off. When he woke up, it was after 11 PM.

  "Time to go."

  Stephen shook himself awake and roused Arthur and Raphael.

  The three gathered their things and started walking back up the mountain path.

  They'd barely taken a few steps when a gust of wind hit them, and it started to drizzle.

  In a few moments, rain was falling in sheets, the drops hitting them like bullets.

  Stephen held onto his hat, slowing his pace.

  When Arthur caught up, he asked, "This rain... sure we should do this now?"

  "What? What'd you say?"

  The rain was too loud, and everything was being pelted. Stephen repeated his question, shouting.

  "Good time as any!" Arthur shouted back. "They won't have many lookouts!"

  "I doubt they even have lookouts in this weather!"

  Stephen looked up at the sky. Right, the rain wouldn't stop anytime soon.

  Those Murfree Brood gang savages wouldn't be that disciplined; they'd be holing up somewhere.

  As the saying goes: dark, windy, and stormy night is a great time for murder!

  They were getting close. From the map, Beaver Hollow Cave was just over the hill.

  Arthur led Stephen to a sheltered spot to tie up their horses. Then he pulled out his weapons, getting them ready.

  Stephen drew his Bowie Knife, revolver, and shotgun, fully loaded and put them on him.

  He pulled out a box, the one Sheriff Malloy had given him, full of explosives.

  He handed Raphael a bag of bullets. "Stick with Arthur. Be careful! Remember, only alive you can get revenge, you hear?"

  Raphael took the bullets and nodded hard.

  Everything was ready. The three crouched low and slipped into the woods.

  "There it is!" Arthur said, pointing to a cave ahead.

  Beaver Hollow, they had arrived.