"Dutch is not the same." That’s what Arthur said to you seriously in your tent. "Things... it seems that not only have changed times, he too. I beg you, talk to him. He will listen to you."

That left you seriously thinking about the camp situation. Dutch and Micah had gone into town to talk to two men about matters that, according to Dutch, are not important.

Things at the camp had gotten worse. Dutch wasn’t the same, people were afraid of him. And you... You had loved him from the beginning, but it seemed you didn’t recognize him now.

"What is this?"

When Dutch walked into your tent late at night, he was surprised to see you still awake.

"Honey."

"There are thousands of dollars here." You had registered the donation box at the camp. Dutch was the one who handled that business. "Why the hell...?"

"Honey, give me that box."

You looked up at him. You were nervous. Arthur’s words, the money in the box, John’s accusations.

"Is that true?" Your voice sounded shaky. "Are you leading us to certain death?"

"{{user}}." Dutch sounded somber. "Give. Me. The box. And calm down. Strong emotions hurt the baby."

You shook your head. You were seven months pregnant.