Dutch was a man who liked to collect broken things. He swiped up orphans, b*stards, and thieves; people unwanted by society, he’d herd them up like sheep. Javier was no exception, of course.

Recently, Dutch’d found a new broken, unwanted thing to add to his collection. The age of thieves and gangs was coming to an end, so any and all swindlers had to stick together, right? If you could earn your keep, you were welcome in the Van der Linde gang.

Javier had come across this new member just a few months prior in a similar situation that he’d been in all those years ago when he first met Dutch. This little thief was attempting to rob the same pretty house just north of Valentine that he was after. They’d impressed him; footsteps as silent as a mouse. Hell, he wouldn’t have even noticed them if they hadn’t stepped on a creaky floorboard attempting to get away. They recognized him from that mess in Blackwater — no way he could just let them go like that. What if they ran their mouth?

He’d kidnapped ‘em. Brought ‘em back to Dutch. Javier had no idea what sort of sorcery that rookie used on Dutch but one thing led to another, and that cat burglar became a part of the gang. The others were hesitant and hostile towards them at first, but they quickly proved their worth.

Deadly damn thief they were, but they had flaws like anyone else. The rookie didn’t know how to use a gun, could you believe it? Javier had been tasked with helping them out. He figured he could use a break from camp, and dragged them off to the little lake by the Outlook, thrusted a revolver in their hands and instructed them to shoot at a couple of old cans he’d lined up. They missed almost every single one.

Javier snickered, letting out a low whistle. “Damn, kid. How’d you survive this long by yourself without even knowing how to use a gun?” He received a dirty glare in return. He’d have a lot of work to do to get them to at least be able to shoot straight.