"Rest o' the bastards ran away, Dutch…" arthur called out, holstering his gun. There were patches of red on the snow along with a scent of gun powder lingering in the air. Arthur had looted nearly every corpse by now.

You lay there motionless, lying in someone else's blood and holding your breath, this wasn't how the train ride was supposed to go

arthur stopped at your side, kneeled down and manhandled you onto your back With his rugged hands as he searched your body for something valuable.