Chapter Text
He was hunched over beside Hosea in the front of the wagon. The snow was blowing viciously around them, the storm only getting worse.
They had sent Arthur, John, and Micah scouting ahead. He had to trust they’d be okay. He knew Arthur would be but the others he had his doubts about. John could be downright stupid sometimes and Micah hotheaded.
He shivers as another gust blows over them. Despite the storm, he’s not really that cold. He doesn’t understand it, his coat isn’t that thick. He should be just as cold as the others.
Hosea is shivering next to him, the cold already causing him to cough violently.
Maybe he was sick? Or it was stress? He wasn’t sure, he let his mind wander as he tried to figure it out. He was running through the events leading up to the ferry job when his eyes widened.
His suppressants.
He didn’t take them.
He had meant to while in town one evening, stopping at the saloon for a quick meal, only to find them missing from his satchel. Realizing he had forgotten to put them back after washing it.
He told himself he’d take them as soon as he returned to camp. When he finally returned, he was too tired to remember.
Come morning he was so caught up in preparation for the job he forgot again, remembering on the ride there. Making a mental note to take them after the job. His heat was due any day and he was pushing it.
He had to take them that day or it would be too late and he’d have to ride it out. He hadn’t had a proper heat in years. The suppressants he took just meant to lessen the symptoms. Make them easier on him. It made his heat only last two or three days instead of the week it did without. Afterward, he’d only need a day or so of rest before being back on his feet. Off them he’d be sleeping for nearly a full day afterward, needing almost another full week to be back to himself.
He curses, of course, they never made it back to camp. And now his suppressants were back in the abandoned camp with anything else they were forced to leave behind. Even if someone had grabbed them, he knew it was too late to take them now. It had already started.
Why now? Of all the times to forget. He groaned as the cramps hit him, thankful at least the storm covered his scent. Between the high winds and the cold stuffing people's noses, he doubts anyone’s noticed.
Anyone but his mate.
His Alpha noticing his discomfort. Either through their bond or just because they were pressed against each other. One of Hosea’s hands grabs his, his finger taps the back of his hand. A silent conversation. ‘You okay?’
Dutch shakes his head no, Hosea giving him a worried look. Dutch tilts his head to the left. ‘Later.’ Hosea gives him another worried glance but lets it go, keeping a hold on Dutch’s hand.
He tries to focus but it’s getting harder. He’s unbearably hot, sweating under his jacket. His abdomen is cramping, he can feel the needs of his heat starting to scream in his head.
He pushes his legs together as he feels slick start to trickle. He is beyond grateful everyone is too preoccupied to notice his plight.
Arthur finally reappears, leading them to shelter. He manages to make one of his speeches, seeming put together enough to not raise any questions.
Hosea pulls him aside before they head back out. “Tell me.” Dutch feels both shame and arousal rise, “Heat.” Hosea looks surprised, “You’re in heat?” Dutch nods. “Things got away from me. Forgot my suppressants. Then we had to run. It’s too late to take them.”
Hosea places a hand on Dutch’s neck, his thumb pressing on his scent gland, he just stops himself from making a noise at the contact. “It’s going to be brutal. You haven’t heated off those in years.”
Dutch takes a shaky breath. “I know, but we gotta go find the others before I get worse.” Hosea doesn’t look happy but doesn’t argue, “Should I tell them?” Them being the rest of the camp. “Might as well, they’ll know before too long.”
Hosea nods, “Okay. I’ll make sure you and I are away from the others. Maybe Arthur with us. In case anything happens.” Despite not liking the thought of his son being within hearing range of the two of them, he’s the only one he’d really trust in this situation.
Hosea lets out a few weak coughs, “You sure you’re up for this?” Hosea clears his throat, “I’ll have to be.” Dutch shakes his head, “Please, don’t force yourself. Even if I’m begging, please take care of yourself first. I can make it through. You might not.”
Hosea’s eyes soften, a fond look on his face, “We’ll figure out something b’shert, now go and get back here in one piece.”
It’s agony to tear himself away from his Alpha but he knows he has to. He and Arthur ride out, he quickly explains what is going on, Arthur ready to help in whatever way he can. His instincts telling him to help another Omega in need, not only that but one he’s has a familial bond with.
They find Micah, following him to the ranch he found. Before they know it there’s dead O’Driscolls everywhere and they’re taking a widow back with them. He is once again grateful for the wind, covering his own scent and keeping others away from his nose. Though he does get the smell of grief from the widow.
Dutch winces at the thought of losing your mate. A broken bond is horrible. He couldn’t imagine. Luckily, he doesn’t dwell on it long as they are met as they return.
Dutch notices the only Alpha in the group his own, all the rest out of sight. Susan ushers them to their own shack, Micah being pushed towards another on the far side of the abandoned town. Probably where all the other Alphas are.
It’s a small place. Two bedrooms. A fireplace in the main room, enough for the three of them. It’s already stocked with what little food and water they can spare. Their things already piled into the rooms, a few extra blankets and clothing items given by the pack, always offered freely for his nest.
Items from the Betas, Mary-Beth’s shawl, and one of Susan’s dresses. He smiles at that; she’s was stern but it was because she cared.
He picks up the items from the other Omegas, Tilly’s skirt, and Javier’s poncho. Arthur’s shirt being placed near his head, a sense of comfort, a reminder his son is nearby in case they need him.
The only Alpha item that isn’t his mate's is his other son’s; one of John's shirts. Dutch feels a pang of worry for his missing son. He has to push it aside, there’s nothing he can do right now.
He arranges a nest on the floor, though there’s a small cot it doesn’t look comfortable nor big enough for two people. He makes sure Hosea’s spot is padded and soft, ready for the sore man.
He sheds down to his union suit, crawling into his nest, purring in contentment at the safety that surrounds him. The smells of his family. His pack.
He is already drifting when Hosea settles next to him. He cuddles up to his Alpha, nose pressed to his neck, inhaling his scent. He purrs louder as his Alpha wraps his arms around him, he allows himself to fall asleep, knowing he should get it while he can.