Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Snowstorm

A sudden blizzard swept across the land, blanketing everything in a pristine white. Several horse-drawn wagons trudged slowly along the snow-covered mountain path. The flickering lights, barely visible through the swirling snow, revealed a group of terrified and disoriented refugees. Most of their belongings had been left behind, save for what could be hastily packed into the wagons. The relentless wind howled, making the wagons creak and groan.

"Abigail says he's not doing well, Dutch," Reverend Swanson called out, struggling to step down from the lead wagon. He stamped his feet alternately, trying to keep warm as he made his way to the next wagon.

"This snow is relentless. We need to find shelter," Swanson shouted over the wind, his voice trembling. The gusts occasionally filled his mouth with snow.

Sitting beside Dutch, Hosea Matthews looked worried. The snow covering him made his already white hair and wrinkled skin appear even older. Seeing Dutch's silence, Hosea remained quiet.

Fortunately, Dutch didn't keep Swanson waiting long. As the leader of the group, he mustered his strength and raised his voice, trying to convey confidence and certainty.

"Arthur's out looking. I sent him to find a place. Hang in there," Dutch said.

Swanson nodded and hummed in response, either too cold or satisfied with the answer. He rubbed his hands together and returned to his wagon, where several women and a critically injured man sat in silence.

After Swanson left, Hosea spoke up. "If we don't stop to restock, we'll all die on the road... It's already May... I hope the law are as lost as we are."

Hosea had wanted to ask Dutch why the plan to rob the ferry had failed, why they were in this situation, and what had happened on the ship. But the constant threat of pursuers had kept him from asking.

"Dutch..." Hosea tried again.

Dutch cut him off. "Look over there."

A man on horseback, holding his cowboy hat against the wind, rode slowly towards them through the snow.

Dutch recognized him immediately. "Arthur! Any luck?"

"I found a place that can shelter us from the snow. Davie needs proper rest. I hired a couple to help clean up and bought some food. I told you, robbing the ferry wasn't a good idea," Arthur replied, turning his horse to lead the way.

Arthur had opposed Dutch's plan to rob the ferry for reasons he couldn't share with the others. It was only recently that he had confirmed his suspicions. A couple of years ago, he had fallen seriously ill and had a strange dream.

It was an incredibly vivid dream, so real that he didn't believe it was a dream but rather another life. In that life, he had grown from a newborn to a young man, studying hard and eventually attending his dream university. The life was so real and filled with joy and happiness he had never experienced.

If those memories hadn't faded and become fragmented after he woke up, he might have gone mad or doubted his current life was the real nightmare.

In the dream, his current life was just a game called "Red Dead Redemption."

Riding against the wind and snow, Arthur raised his voice. "I found a place, an old mining town. It's been abandoned for years but isn't far from here. Let's pick up the pace; I don't want anyone freezing to death."

Arthur spoke to the group and to himself, knowing that the convoy included not just the elderly, women, and children, but also the injured. The terrible weather and morale were close to breaking the group.

"Everyone, stay alert! Pick up the pace! Giddy up!" Under Dutch's command, they followed Arthur to the abandoned town.

Looking around, they saw a few dilapidated wooden houses along the central road that could barely shield them from the wind and snow, along with some abandoned tools, evidence of the once-thriving mining town. Arthur thought it more accurate to call this place a ruin of broken-down houses rather than a town.

The convoy entered the village, and two people emerged from a relatively intact cabin, the fire inside already lit.

Arthur introduced them. "This is Mr. and Mrs. Adler. They run a small farm not far from here. I'm very grateful for their help."

Arthur then introduced Dutch and Hosea to the Adlers, who tipped their hats in greeting.

After the brief introduction, Hosea wasted no time in rallying others to help carry Davey from the wagon into a hastily cleaned room. The room was drafty but offered some protection from the snow, and the fire inside was burning brightly, providing warmth.

With Arthur's help, they quickly moved Davey into the room. Dutch stood by the door with a lantern, calling everyone inside and counting heads to ensure no one was left behind.

"Here, lay him down," Arthur instructed.

Davey was placed on the bed. The bleeding from his gunshot wound had stopped, but the days of travel and the freezing temperatures had left him in a dire state.

Abigail had been caring for Davey throughout the journey. Having grown up in bars and brothels, she was adept at looking after men, especially those with gunshot wounds.

Seeing Davey's condition worsen, she voiced her concern. "His fever's getting worse. He needs medication urgently."

Arthur stepped forward and pulled out two unmarked brown bottles from his satchel. The labels were hastily written.

"Supposedly good for gunshot wounds and complications. Let's try these," Arthur said.

Don't ask why Arthur had these. Ever since Dutch found him in Blackwater and told him about "a plan," followed by Hosea proposing a scam on a land-swindling businessman, Arthur had quietly made some preparations.

Though many memories from his dreams were no longer vivid, and only fragments remained when he tried to recall them, there was no doubt that these strange experiences had profoundly changed Arthur.