Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Interrogation

Hosea lit another cigarette and looked at Arthur. "Even though you've quit smoking for some time, don't you want one in this situation?"

Arthur took off his hat and placed it on the table, shaking his head to decline Hosea's offer. "Thanks, but no." Smoking is harmful to health, and in his fragmented memories, he had already deeply realized this truth.

Hosea looked at Arthur and said, "The snow is still heavy, and we'll have to stay here for a while."

"It seems so for now. Everyone is still weak, and the snow has almost filled the wagon. We can't go anywhere until the snow stops and melts."

Hosea nodded. "The weather is just one problem. We have bigger troubles. Even if we leave here, what then? What's the plan after that..."

Arthur nodded inwardly. It seemed Hosea also understood the situation they were about to face—the massive bounty on Dutch would attract many bounty hunters.

Leaving might be the easiest way to escape, but Arthur couldn't do it, and Hosea couldn't either. The others wouldn't agree to it for now.

Hosea didn't continue the topic but changed the subject.

"The O'Driscoll kid you brought back, Dutch and I have already tried to interrogate him."

"He wouldn't talk. Maybe our civilized way of questioning isn't the right method to open the safe. You should go and see him later. Dutch wants him to spill everything he knows."

Arthur nodded. "I'll go later. Have you talked to Dutch?"

Hosea didn't seem very interested and replied flatly, "He might be too tired. I'll try to talk to him again later."

It seemed Hosea and Dutch hadn't had a smooth conversation and didn't want to discuss it.

"Listen, Hosea, we've known each other for a long time. I've always trusted you and Dutch to take care of everyone. Even I could see the plan was unreliable, but Dutch insisted... As we saw, the plan failed completely and brought us significant consequences."

"Hosea, Dutch has changed."

Arthur said this calmly, as if it were a minor matter. He believed Hosea could feel it too, but he wasn't ready to accept it.

He also knew the severity of the exposure of the robbery was not comparable to their previous small-time operations in Blackwater.

Everyone avoided talking about it, and Dutch tried to downplay the failure to regain morale, but everyone could feel that this wasn't going to end simply.

The government agents were really after them.

Hosea, with his old face, remained silent. Extinguishing the cigarette with force, he slowly said, "I believe in Dutch, and so do you. Like in the old days, Dutch will find a way. And this is a big country..."

Arthur didn't disagree. It was indeed a big country, and the vast West provided them with ample space to survive. But over the years, everything had slowly changed.

The environment in the West had begun to change, and they needed to change too.

Standing up and putting his hat back on, Arthur said, "Hosea, wake up. I don't want to say this, but I liked our old life. However, this vast land has very little space left for people like us to survive."

"People like us?..."

Hosea fell silent, and the happy days seemed like yesterday. He subconsciously touched his already graying hair and broke the silence with a smile. "Arthur, when did you become so eloquent?"

"It's good. If only you had spoken like this before, maybe we could have prevented things from turning out this way."

Arthur also fell silent. Maybe it had always been a maybe. Hosea still didn't want to admit where the problem lay. Maybe he still believed more problems were his own fault...

"I'll go see if the kid is willing to talk now. Hosea, smoke less. Don't think you're still a young man."

Arthur tipped his hat and left the room.

***

"Hello, Arthur." Pearson, wrapped up tightly, looked even fatter. With nothing to do, he preferred to stay in this kitchen converted from a stable, warming himself by the fire.

Arthur walked in, patting off the snow. "How's the O'Driscoll kid?"

Pearson pointed to the right along the wall where a wild deer was hanging. The kid was tied up next to it, looking miserable but still alive.

"Have you decided what to do with him? When I was in the Navy, it wasn't this complicated. Captives would talk when asked. You have to admit, it's surprising how tight-lipped the O'Driscoll scum are."

Arthur decisively interrupted Pearson before he could continue sharing his military experiences.

"Mr. Pearson, I'm very interested in your Navy life and your service to the country. It's admirable. If possible, let's continue this topic another time."

Arthur looked at the food supplies, a few bags of fruit, hanging meat, and a few boxes of beer in the corner. He continued, "We escaped Blackwater, and despite being pursued by government agents, we still managed to get genuine Navy light beer. Not bad, huh?"

Picking up a bottle, a brown bottle with no labels, brewed on a Navy ship, it was naturally chilled in this weather and surprisingly good to drink.

"We'll get through this, just like we always do, Mr. Pearson." Arthur handed Pearson a bottle, and they clinked bottles, taking a big gulp.

Free encouragement, Arthur was happy to give now.

If you asked Pearson who his favorite person in the group was, this seemingly honest but somewhat cunning man would tell you that everyone was the same. Although he liked to talk about his Navy service, most of the time, everyone was happy to indulge him. If you asked who was the most supportive, it would definitely be Arthur. So, despite saying everyone was the same, in his heart, he would choose Arthur.

Pearson took a big gulp of beer and said to Arthur with some embarrassment, "Last night was a bit rushed, and the food wasn't great. Since everyone hasn't eaten well recently, I prepared roast venison and tomato and radish venison stew for lunch today, so everyone can have a good meal."

"Sounds good?"

The O'Driscoll kid, who felt like he wasn't even there during their conversation, made muffled sounds. Hung in this drafty kitchen all day, cold and hungry, he couldn't even sleep. Whenever he found some drowsiness in this uncomfortable position, the fat cook would wake him up with a fire poker.

At this moment, he had decided that when the time was right, he would confess and save himself.

"Kid, before I start, I think we can agree that no one is coming to rescue you." Arthur stood in front of him, looking into his eyes. Seeing the kid trying to speak with a gag in his mouth, Arthur shook his head, thinking young people always had an incomprehensible stubbornness.

"In other words, no matter what ideas or resolutions you have, I hope you consider your fate first. Don't you think?"

"Woo! Woo!" He smiled ingratiatingly.

Arthur didn't remove the rag from his mouth but delivered a powerful right punch to his stomach.

"Ow! ... You son of a..." Before he could finish the insult in his mind, Arthur followed up with a left hook to the lower right side of his ribs.

"Listen, I'll only ask each question once. You should know that in this heavy snow, hitting a punching bag is a great way to warm up and effectively release emotions. You might not know, but I haven't had a good time recently."

Arthur straightened the kid's pain-twisted body and continued, "I can't remember where I heard this, but it always makes sense to me. The saying goes, 'A smile doesn't disappear; it just moves from one face to another.'"

Arthur smiled and delivered a series of left-right punches to the kid's face.

Honestly, Arthur didn't care whether the kid would confess to what Dutch wanted to know. The interrogation, in his eyes, had become more of an emotional release, a way to vent the pent-up frustration that had been tormenting him for a long time.

Finally after some time Arthur took the rag out of the kid's mouth and threw it on the ground.

"Huff... hiss, huff..." The O'Driscoll kid breathed heavily.

Painful sounds came out of his broken cheek. "You... you son of a..."