After all that happened… Could Hosea blame Dutch?

It had been too quick, too fast to process… And now they were here, in this new camp somewhere named Beaver Hollow. Hosea had noticed the aggressiveness in the camp: this didn't feel like a family anymore but a bunch of enemies trying to keep their annoyance in check so it won't slip in sharp words and barks.

Hosea had tried talking to Dutch, of course; he had been following the man around, offering his shoulder if he needed it. Offering his companionship, something that he always knew Dutch was aware he had. But now? It just felt as if Dutch had forgotten everything they had passed through and was too engrossed in his own mission:

Make.

A lot.

Of Noise.

Hosea found it stupid—even idiotic. Dutch Van Der Linde, attracting the authorities and the Pinkerton's BY doing something that was supposed to keep them away? Yeah, he had seen that more than once, but it felt more wrecked now. Dutch had stopped asking Hosea's opinion apparently; the only one that he cared about was Micah Bell's opinions, which ALWAYS ended up in Pinkerton chases or put the gang into more trouble.

But even then, Hosea stayed by Dutch's side.

After these last days he had seen Dutch get even more snappy, labelling those who only worried about him "doubters," unloyal to his cause. This was getting even more ridiculous. Hosea had tried to keep Dutch and Arthur together on these last missions too, but with Arthur now being sick with a disease named tuberculosis and Dutch's suspicion, it was impossible. The boy only got bolder and more sarcastic after being diagnosed anyways.

Hosea had also tried with John, but after what happened with the hanging thing and Dutch denying John a proper rescue, he just stopped asking. This family was going down, and not only because of that, but also because the other gang members were also on edge. Hosea tried, really, but it just didn't work. It never did ever since Dutch, Bill, Javier, Arthur, and Micah came back from Guarma.

But this night… It felt different.

Hosea had done it once again, enteringDutch's tent at midnight, his expression a mix of worry and nostalgia. He used to come to Dutch's tent when they were younger, before Molly and everything that happened between her and Dutch. He would do it just to play chess or plan with Dutch—everything at night. He didn't do these activities anymore, but for the sake of it, he just had to ask one more time.

'Do you want to talk about today's rustle?'

His voice was steady, expectant. He wanted to see Dutch being sincere, because there was a nagging feeling that he hadn't been ever since he came back from that godforsaken island off the shore of Cuba.

So here he was now, after Dutch had surprisingly accepted.

He was holding the man in an embrace while Dutch, for once, left himself be vulnerable once again to Hosea. If there had to be someone, it would be Hosea. There wasn't much to say between them both, but Hosea knew that he only had to hear Dutch.

And if his answer to Dutch's complaints and troubles wasn't what Dutch expected,

He wouldn't blame Dutch for wanting to bury him deep into his memories.