Otis Miller and the Boy from New York

Otis Miller and the Boy from New York is one of the books in Red Dead Redemption 2.

Content
No. 69 in a Series of Original Tales Of Otis Miller's Adventures

than when he had first arrived in New York City. His nose bristled at the foreign sights and smells and he had a thirst a mile long. Otis sat on his horse. He looked on at the wagons and refuge and the cacophony of city noises and shoeless children running and workmen heading home and women carrying bags of groceries and shouts and sounds that drowned his ears. The red reflection of the sunlight cut between the buildings and seemed to sever them in two like a curtain of some boudoir.

He got down from his horse and walked it to the outside of a bar and tied it up on the cobblestone street.

When he walked inside all eyes and ears turned as everyone took in his getup. He had left his gang holed up outside of the city. None had been this far towards civilization and he feared one of them would get drunk or into trouble and disclose the whereabouts about the rests of his gang, who currently sat on a considerable amount of money, having perpetrated a bold holdup against that evil scoundrel on the Lannahechee train. They had been overrun by detectives outside of Blackwater and had fled north and east as man-hunters posed in various guises, scouring the countryside as everything from lightning rod salesmen to itinerant peddlers of farming implements in their desperate search for Otis and his gang of kindly outlaws, and the sizeable bounty their headswere worth.

Whiskey, neat, with water back, he said to the barkeep.

The barkeep eyed him suspiciously.

You wander in off some farm?

I reckon maybe I did.

He put a dollar down on the bar and looked the barkeep in the eye. A voice behind him hollered out: Don't get much of your lot here in New York City.

No, I reckon maybe you don't, he said, turning his head to see a Packenbush revolver pointed dead at his face.

The patrons looked on with breathless interest and waited for the outcome. Otis sneered. He had not even taken the trouble to turn around. He looked at the bartender.

Let me have another.

Yes sir.

And one for my friend here.

I ain't your friend.

There ain't gonna be no shooting in the bar unless I do it. And presently you aren't worth the price of a bullet to kill you.

Before the man could blink, Otis took a shot of whiskey and whipped around, grabbing the man's gun and pointing it in his face. You gonna have to be quicker on the draw. A baby could get the drop on you.

What you plan on doing? You gonna shoot me, farm boy? Every detective from here to Chicago will be after you.

They already are.

Otis sneered and looked the city boy up and down. The bar patrons gazed at one another in silence. Then Otis noticed the man's other hand held a second revolver that had been tucked in the back of his britches.

I reckon you ain't the greenhorn I thought you to be. Never thought I'd meet up with the famous Otis Miller in New York City.

Otis smiled and handed him his revolver.

You city boys have a queer way of greeting strangers. I'm looking for a Tucker Van Pelt. Withe the Gaslamp Gang.

You found him.

The kindly bandit pulled out a handsome gold watch, no doubt the memento of a dare-devil raid. He studied the numbers.

I reckon you're late.

They walked outside and passed a group of women, painted and powdered, who whispered and snickered as they went past.

I hear you're interested in pulling a job on the Bank of New York. It's run by nasty folk who exploit the poor. You're gonna need a team of horses to get all that gold out of there.

That's a good thing then.

What's that?

I know just the place to get me such a team.