The Van Der Linde Gang (Part 1 Chapter 1)

I held Davey's head in my hands as the carriage bumped over the rough snow tracks. Most of the gang had crowded into the one carriage to help with Davey as much as they could. Blackwater had been a complete disaster and we had already lost Jenny, Sean and Mac. We couldn't afford to lose Davey too.

The Callander brothers had been with the gang for a lot longer than most other people. About 8 years, they had been travelling with us. That's a long time. I was 16 when they joined.

The cold air hung heavy with guilt and worry, and Uncle seemed to feel the tension was too high and he broke the silence with a question directed at me.

"How come your last name is Van Der Linde? 'Course, you're from the gang, but I ain't called Van Der linde. And Swanson ain't Reverend Van Der Linde, and-"

"I think we get where you're going, Uncle." I smiled. I looked over to Hosea, who always liked telling this story.

"That is a good question, my friend." Hosea smiled. It was that smile that told everyone that he was about to go into a long story, that would probably take at least 10 minutes to tell.

24 YEARS AGO

"Dutch and I had met about 5 months before. It was 1875, and we were running out of town after finishing a bank rob in Chicago. We weren't exactly a gang yet, the two of us. We both knew that the two of us weren't going to go very far if it was just a two person gang. It was laughable. That night, it was weather much like this one, hard to see, unpleasant and cold. But even the gusting winds couldn't cover the sound of a baby screaming out into the night. Dutch doesn't like to admit but he pretended he hadn't heard the sound, not wanting a baby to follow on with the two of us. Outlaws. But I explained to him that this was the chance to actually help with the American dream that he didn't stop going on about. A governmentless world. No leaders. Freedom. If we started by bringing up a person in the ideal world we wanted, then they would share the ideals we had about the world and then they would spread it further, and so on. So he turned back and we got out of the carriage. And there she was. A bundle of cloth in a wooden box. Poor mother dead next to it. It looked like both starvation and the cold had got the mother, and the baby didn't look far off either. I picked the child up in their box and climbed back onto the carriage. I'll never forget the way that Dutch's eyes lit up when he saw that child. It was like she was a bundle of light and happiness that was guiding him through the snow. I had to take the reins he was that encapsulated with this child. Dutch was only young at the time, 19. And I was 32, if I remember correctly. And at that moment, as he held her in arms, he looked at me with tears in his eyes, and asked, what should we call her? Can you imagine? Young, emotional Dutch crying over a baby. I laughed and nodded at the box. Well, I said, that box is made out of light willow wood, and she is part of the Van Der Linde gang now. Willow Van Der Linde. That'll be her name. And that was that. One of the finest members this gang will ever have."