Just grabbing our weapons and some essentials for the wilderness.

  Stephen packed his gear, loaded it onto his horse.

  These days, Stephen mostly stayed at the Camp, Little White, was naturally stuck in camp with him and was understandably upset about it.

  Luckily, we had Kieran, a dependable stable hand, to look after him.

  Kieran, Arthur found on the snowy mountains, he's been at the Camp ever since.

  Dutch hadn't killed him, or let him go either; just put him in charge of caring for the horses.

  The guy's a hard worker, he keeps all of our horses in great shape.

  We've all started to let our guard down around him, and he's even allowed to wander freely around the Camp.

  Stephen didn't dislike him; he'd just been wary because Kieran used to be with the O'Driscoll gang.

  But after repeated interrogations, everyone knows he was just a stable hand the O'Driscolls grabbed, so we weren't so hard on him anymore.

  Kieran saw Stephen leading his horse out, hurried over to say something.

  He hesitated because he remembered how Stephen had scared him with a knife before, then became afraid.

  He stood there frozen, shrinking into himself like a kicked puppy.

  Stephen chuckled at his cautious behavior.

  "Hey, what's up?"

  Stephen's question seemed to startle Kieran, he flinched, stammering, unable to speak.

  "Relax, just say what's on your mind."

  Stephen gave the timid Kieran a friendly pat on the shoulder.

  Seeming to sense Stephen's good intentions, Kieran finally found the courage to blurt out, "Uh, if you're going to town, could you maybe get a new horse brush?"

  "I know it's a pain, but the ones we have are pretty much done for. The horses get grumpy if you don't brush them."

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  Kieran pulled a beat-up brush from behind his back, showed it to Stephen.

  Stephen saw that it was falling apart, half the bristles were gone.

  "Sure, I'll bring one back." Stephen nodded.

  "Thanks, really. Thanks a lot." Kieran bobbed his head gratefully, bowing and scraping, looking totally subservient.

  Stephen swung into the saddle, looked back at the poor guy. "It's no trouble. Don't worry."

  "Besides, you've been taking great care of Little White, I should be thanking you."

  Stephen's kindness seemed to put Kieran at ease, he gave a shy smile. "He's called Little White? Cute name."

  "He's a good horse, real good horse, very obedient."

  Kieran went on, praising Little White, even stroked his head.

  Little White seemed to like it, nuzzled Kieran's hand.

  Turns out everyone's got their talents; even shy, timid Kieran's a natural with horses.

  "Stephen! Time to go!"

  Javier shouted from the Camp entrance; he'd been waiting a while.

  "Gotta go, see you."

  Stephen waved to Kieran, pulled the reins, rode to catch up with Javier.

  Watching Stephen ride off, Kieran mumbled, "Goodbye, Mr. Stephen."

  Stephen wouldn't have heard him since he said it to quietly. He paused for a moment before turning back.

  He had several more horses to brush.

  Javier had already left the Camp, and Stephen urged his horse forward.

  "Chatting with that O'Driscoll fella?" Javier asked, curious.

  "Not much. His horse brush broke, asked me to grab him a new one." Stephen said, smiling.

  Javier nodded. "He's a hard worker, that one. Decent kid."

  "Shame he used to be with the O'Driscolls."

  Stephen seemed puzzled. "I wanna off O'Driscolls as much as the next guy, but you guys really hate them."

  "We've been at war for years."

  Javier said, laughing. "No making amends, 'cept one side kills all the other."

  "You've been in the gang a long time?" Stephen looked at the Mexican man. "I mean, you wanna talk about your life before this?"

  "Sure, if you don't get bored." Javier flashed a smile, began to tell his story.

  "I joined the gang about five years back, I think."

  Javier's gaze hardened. "I killed some big shot back home. He oppressed our people, killed my friends just because."

  "After I killed him, I was marked, had to run to America just to survive."

  "But when I got here, I had no money, couldn't speak the language, all I could do was beg."

  Stephen listened intently to Javier's story; he could see this guy had been through the ringer.

  "Almost starved to death; ended up breaking into a farm, trying to steal chickens, funny, huh?"

  Javier laughed bitterly.

  "No, not funny. When someone's hungry, they'll do what they need to do." Stephen shook his head, reassuring him.

  "That's right. People get hungry enough, they'll do just about anything."

  Javier gestured emphatically. "Then Dutch saved me. Gave me food, clothes, taught me English, and asked me to join the gang."

  "Plus, Dutch does what I wanted to do but couldn't."

  Javier sounded worshipful when he talked about Dutch. "Stealing from the rich and the powerful, giving food, money, and hope to the poor."

  "That's why I swore I'd follow Dutch and give him my loyalty."

  Seeing how emotional Javier was, Stephen could understand how he felt.

  It's simple; when a person's ideals are shattered and they can't see a better life, it's worth something if you have someone who will stand beside you and pull you back up.

  Stephen could tell Javier had noble aspirations, thought his aspirations might be out of reach.

  But people always need something to believe in, right?