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porkchop-ao3 · 5 months ago

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A Thrill I've Never Known (Chapter 70)

Losing Oursleves

Hey guys! I don't think you were expecting regular updates from me, but it's been over a year and I can't quite believe it. A lot has changed (I'm a married woman now!) and this year has gone so fast. But I'm determined to finish this story. So here's a new chapter (a naughty one hehe). I'm thinking there's only one or maybe two chapters to go :) it's all planned out, just gotta write it!

(All chapters tagged as #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

A number of weeks had passed since everybody went their separate ways. Arthur and I had made it to the remote and desolate wilderness of New Austin. We moved from place to place each day, always out in the middle of nowhere, sleeping with the armadillos and the iguanas, and even on one occasion coming face to face with a panther. That was a moment during which I'd caught myself beginning to miss the days of living in a camp with a dozen other people, always someone on guard to protect from not only human intruders but also those from nature.

Waking up to a panther sniffing at the wagon and making off with a day's worth of freshly hunted goat meat was exactly the push we needed to find a better arrangement for storing our meat overnight. We were lucky, the animal didn't seem all that interested in us, only casting a glance at us when it realised we were watching it, frozen on our bed rolls, Arthur with his gun trained on the thing and ready to shoot. He would've done so if it hadn't immediately ran away, and we realised it was probably a youngster. Had it been an adult, it might have preferred its dinner warm and still with a pulse. Yes, we were very lucky indeed.

Life in the desert certainly wasn't fun. I think I preferred the muggy, soggy swamp, alligators and all. But maybe I was biased, touched with some kind of nostalgia for my childhood, which made those gloomy conditions seem somewhat comforting. Especially in comparison to the sharp and unwelcome atmosphere I tended to get from the desert, sharp in very much a physical sense as well as metaphorical; everything was sharp. From the unrelenting brightness of the sun which assaulted my eyes, to the scratch of the cacti each time I unknowingly brushed up against one or found a stray needle in my bedroll.

But then there was the evenings, when the sun was setting and the temperature dropped, and the sounds of the place came alive. Insects chirping all around from every direction, birds of all sizes and kinds flying overhead, calling out to one another as they prepared to find a spot to roost for the night, and the quiet whistle of the wind whipping through the dry grass and across the arid land. There was something, dare I say, peaceful about it.

There was definitely a love-hate relationship between the desert and I. I hadn't spent much time there at all in my life; I'd visited a few times as a child – my mother had cousins living nearby, though all since long dead �� and of course I had been in Blackwater when my brother passed. I never liked it much as a child, and that didn't change much as I aged. But now? The desert became paired with a new association. One of freedom. Of course, I still couldn't say I enjoyed being there, but I enjoyed being away from everything the East had put us through. It felt like a fresh beginning.

So, Arthur and I spent our days in the wilderness, staying mostly out of the way of other people. Most days we didn't see another soul besides the animals, and those certainly felt more abundant than they had anywhere else. However, I figured it felt so just because there were less places for them to hide.

When I did see other people, it was when I headed into Armadillo to visit the store, where I'd buy supplies for us. I didn't speak more than necessary and always kept my head down, I was alone, with Arthur needing to stay out of sight in case someone recognised him. It was the second time I went there that something caught my eye in the store. A little notice pinned to the wall by the door. It read:

FOR SALE. Seaworthy steamboat. Roomy interior with comfortable living quarters. For information ask for Pete at saloon.

It was a simple poster with a hastily yet nicely drawn sketch of a long steamboat with a raised interior section protruding from the deck. I paused on the way out of the store to inspect it, leaning in and narrowing my eyes. A flicker of interest lit up my chest and I considered things for a moment. A boat. A boat with living quarters? How convenient, I thought. Perhaps it was a ridiculous idea, and I was just influenced by my slowly building desire to get away from the desert.

Or perhaps it was genius?

I left the store with my groceries and headed back out of the settlement of Armadillo to meet with Arthur, who was waiting by our wagon. When I arrived I loaded the things I had bought into the back of the wagon, and floated the idea out there.

"How'd you feel about boats?" I asked.

"Boats?" Arthur scoffed. "I think I recall telling you I'd never set foot on one again, after Blackwater, that poker job in Saint Denis, Guarma…" he laughed, snapping me back to reality. Oh yeah… I remembered his words from what seemed a lifetime ago now. Every time I set foot on a boat, at best I get wet and at worst I almost die.

"Oh, right," I nodded, tutting to myself. I climbed up onto the wagon beside Arthur, and noticed he was looking at me, waiting.

"Why?" He eventually asked.

"It don't matter," I told him, chuckling dismissively.

"Must've mattered a minute ago, was the first thing you said to me when you came back," he said. I shrugged my shoulders.

"No, I just saw there's one for sale nearby. Apparently it has living quarters inside, I wondered if it would be good for us but you're right, you were never that lucky when it comes to boats," I explained.

Arthur kept looking at me, his brow furrowed in thought. "How much?"

"It didn't say, but there's a feller named Pete apparently, frequents the saloon."

"Hm," he grunted, before letting it go. Then we headed off, back into the empty wilderness.

–

Just a few long days later, there was an incident. One that shook us up and reminded us of just how many ears the tales of Arthur and Dutch's Boys' crimes had reached.

We had moved further west, towards the little town of Tumbleweed. I remembered the place from my childhood, during the times I had visited family nearby; it had been a lot more substantial back then, bustling with new business and new inhabitants, it seemed it would become quite the hub of the West. But in the subsequent years, the success of Armadillo was becoming increasingly noticeable in the downfall of Tumbleweed. Businesses and people moved out, passers by rarely looked twice, what remained was a small collection of stragglers who refused to stop beating the dead horse it embodied. It was becoming a mere smudge on the map and so we figured Arthur might not be recognised there.

We both desperately needed to bathe and buy a fresh set of clothes, since the harsh days in the desert – and even less access than usual to clean water to wash them – had taken its toll on the small amount of clothes we had. So we stopped by the general store and chose from their small range of clothing and paid their up-marked prices without complaint, and without incident. The saloon seemed like our most promising hope for a place to take a bath, and so we headed there next to enquire.

There was no bath, unfortunately. There was however a gentleman who recognised Arthur, even less fortunately. He was reasonable enough not to shout it on sight and instead waited until we were outside, heading back to the wagon. He followed us, confronted us, and shortly after was laid to rest somewhere North of Gaptooth Ridge.

Arthur had been quiet for hours after that. He'd shot the man point blank in the chest with very little hesitation, but I could see from his tight, grim expression that lingered well into the evening that he was chewing over the guilt. I let him have his time before I mentioned it over the campfire that night.

"You okay?" I asked him, and he merely grunted. "Arthur."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say. You shouldn't have seen that, today."

"I've seen worse," I scoffed.

"But all this talk, all this crap about changing and doing the right thing from here on out. Didn't exactly last long, did it?" He rumbled, his voice almost just a vibration that reached my thudding heart before my ears.

"That's different."

"How?"

"You weren't left with much of a choice."

"You sure?"

I sighed and rolled up onto my knees and shuffled towards him on the bedroll we were sitting side by side on, below the stars. "I'm sure. He'd have gone and told somebody and then the law would know we're out here, and we'd be up shit creek without a paddle faster than you could've pulled your pistol if you'd hesitated for a second longer."

"Or I could've paid him off, threatened him, I don't know," he grumbled, shaking his head. I put my hand on his shoulder and turned him to look at me.

"But why take the risk?" I asked.

"So I wouldn't have to kill another innocent person," he met my eyes and they were pained. I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"Okay," I accepted, "but he knew who you were, what he was getting himself into when he confronted us alone. It weren't too bright of him. He could've kept his mouth shut and ran to the Sheriff. At least now we know he took it to the grave."

Arthur didn't say anything, he dropped his eyes to my chest and kept them fixed there.

"The other day you were telling me to let go of guilt, to not beat myself up. You should take your own advice sweetheart," I told him, cupping his cheek in my hand and stroking the highest plane of his cheekbone with my thumb. He closed his eyes and softened, his lips parting just slightly.

I pressed my lips to his and he jumped, not expecting it, but he responded quickly. His hands reached for my waist and he turned to me more, facing my body completely. He broke the kiss just for a moment, his breath sucking in quickly and sharply in realisation.

"Let's buy that boat," he whispered.

"Seriously?" I questioned, and he pulled me back to kiss me again, his hands insistently gripping my waist like he wanted something he was too afraid to ask for. I climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips

"Seriously," he affirmed. "Might finally feel like we have a home."

"But you hate boats," I huffed a laugh.

"Not as much as I hate all this looking over our shoulders," he said.

"Right," I breathed, nodding as I kissed his forehead. He tilted his head up and connected our lips again, kissing me for a few short moments before I felt the warm press of his tongue against the seal of my lips. I eased, letting him run the wet tip along the underside of my upper lip so lightly it tickled. Then I heard a needy whine escape him, his hands squeezing hard into my hips urging me to put my full weight onto him, and I felt his desire firm between my legs.

It'd been a while since we made love. Our circumstances had hardly been ideal for it, but I'd noticed in Arthur's demeanour that he had wanted to, in the press of his hips into my backside when we laid side by side in our bedrolls. He'd stay there for a few moments until he got hard, and then he'd roll back. I knew he wouldn't ask me for it out in the open, he wouldn't want to take the risk of anyone seeing. Our tent was buried somewhere in the wagon, an oversight during packing, and frankly we'd been too lazy to dig it out.

I regretted that now, as he kissed me, unashamedly showing me his desire in the rough and hungry way his lips worked against mine, and the tight grip of his hands on the soft flesh of my hips.

Suddenly, with the buildup of my own arousal reaching a precipice, I didn't care who saw.

"Let's do it," I whispered harshly against his lips.

"Wha- here?" He balked, hesitancy in his actions as he readied to peel himself away from me. I ground myself against him to stop him.

"Do you wanna?" I asked.

"If someone sees–"

"No one's gonna see," I giggled, lifting my skirt and shifting it out of the way. I took his hand from my hip and guided it down, slipping it through the layers of fabric until it reached me. His fingers cascaded over the slickness, between the folds, sinking inside. He shuddered out a sigh and nipped at my jaw and my neck.

"I wanna," he breathed, rocking his fingers inside me, closing his eyes as he imagined something else disappearing inside the warmth.

He pushed them deeper, finding my favourite spot with practiced ease, rubbing it until my breath became laboured.

"I missed this feeling," he told me, "you feel like heaven, I imagine."

"You imagine," I repeated, puzzled by his choice of words.

"Well I ain't got much chance of seeing the real thing, so I figure I'm getting my taste of heaven here on earth now," he chuckled, his voice a honey smooth buzz clouded with lust.

I reached between his legs too, unbuttoning his jeans and the lower part of his union suit until his stiff length sprang free, the tip already glistening, having left a wet spot on the new clothes we'd bought just that morning. I took him into my hand, coating my palm with the slick and using it to lubricate my strokes.

Every tense muscle in his body seemed to ease at my touch, his shoulders sagging and his ministrations on me temporarily stuttering. I smirked a little, rocking my hips to bring his attention back. His eyes flashed open, cheeks flushing as his fingers restarted their dance inside me; it was short-lived, however, and he withdrew them. I was feeling deprived for less than a second before I realised they were heading for his mouth. He tasted me.

"I'm gonna need a little more of that," he rumbled, wrapping his arms around me and rocking back, then forth; the momentum rolling him onto his knees and me onto my back.

He flipped my skirt up and buried himself underneath, keeping my body hidden from the world so he was in a little one man tent. I laughed, dropping my head back against the bedroll, jumping and gasping when wet heat engulfed my nether regions. His tongue explored, circling my most sensitive spot before moving down, slipping just inside my entrance. I moaned quietly, my fingers clawing into the fabric of my skirt wishing they could tangle in his hair instead.

I squirmed on the bedroll, tilting my hips and pressing against his mouth, and he encouraged my motions with a moan that vibrated through me. But it wasn't long until the emptiness felt unbearable and the desire to have him inside me was more of a need.

And I told him so. "Arthur, I need it."

He reappeared from underneath my skirt, his lips glistening and hair tousled.

"You need it, huh?" He repeated, his smile growing. He glanced around and pushed my skirt up when he was satisfied the coast was clear.

"I need it," I reiterated with a nod, twitching as I felt his thumbs move to my folds, parting them as he looked down to admire the view. I looked down at his cock, twitching and leaking where it jutted out from his clothes. I imagined how the round head of it would feel pressed up against my entrance, pushing forward until my body yielded, letting him in. An involuntary whine left me.

"Now," I'd never sounded so demanding, and it caught us both by surprise.

"Yes ma'am," he chuckled, sitting back on his heels and picking my hips up, dragging me closer to him down the bedroll until my hips were raised onto his thighs.

My hand wrapped around his length and I helped guide him, rubbing the head of it against me, revelling in the hot firmness. I savoured it as he nudged my opening, and let him press forward slowly so I felt every single inch. We sighed in unison as I took him deep, until our pelvises were flush.

"Lord have mercy," he murmured, his face slack, almost comical. He pulled back slowly, and rocked back in quickly. It sent fireworks into my lower belly, and he repeated that slow-fast motion a number of times, the slow part becoming faster and faster until his rhythm settled into a quick one that wasn't gentle. Gentle wouldn't cut it then for either of us.

I let my knees fall apart and he caught my legs, his palms cupping the crooks of my knees as he bounced me back and forth, his cock drilling in and out of me in a way that was so satisfying, it was like drinking a tall glass of cold water on a hot day. My eyes practically rolled back in their sockets and I moaned his name, my head dropping back on the bedroll.

Arthur's eyes darted from between my legs, to my face, to our surroundings. He was never one to let his guard down completely and I allowed myself to let go and put my trust entirely in him. I didn't think about where we were, our vulnerable position out in the open. I just focused on the pleasure, the slick and rhythmic motion as he entered and re-entered, pressing something deep inside me.

My hands found their way to his knees, and I held onto them for support behind my hips, squeezing my fingertips into his thighs. My touch encouraged him, he fucked harder, and the angle of my body changed. Disoriented for just a moment, my calves ended up on his shoulders, his face peeking out between them as he wrapped his arms around my legs and shifted upwards. His cock was tilted forwards, pressing the most sensitive spot inside me. His arms squeezed my thighs tightly together and it changed the nature of the pleasure, it felt even nicer this way, and I knew he'd undo me quickly.

I wondered how it would feel to have him burst inside me, filling me with what he usually painted my stomach with. I wondered if it would feel good; hot and satisfying, adding to the slick, or if I'd notice at all until he pulled out and allowed it to drip from me. I imagined him failing to stop in time, losing himself in a way that Arthur never does, and chasing his orgasm unthinkingly, spilling into me before even realising what he was doing. The mental image did things to me that surprised me and made me gaze into his face, imagining it over and over, almost willing it to happen. Now I was losing myself.

My orgasm built off of that image and I didn't try to stop it, didn't try to make things last any longer, I let it take over. I felt it, really felt it in an all-consuming way, my heart racing as I climbed to that precipice, and crying out involuntarily as I leapt off of it. My goodness, it felt good.

"I'm coming!" I gasped out, a plea for him to keep going, never stop. Arthur obliged, turning his head and pressing kisses into my inner leg, dancing his lips across my scars as I enjoyed him.

Shortly after my come down, Arthur pulled out, rubbing his cock between my thighs with that unchanging rhythm, and released with a grunt. It was powerful, shooting past my shoulder and partially onto my face, which prompted him to pull back harshly and soil my inner thighs with the rest. I giggled in surprise.

"Shit, I'm sorry Princess," he huffed and puffed, shakily releasing my legs down either side of him and leaning forwards, thumbing away the gift he'd bestowed upon my cheek. I caught his hand, and tongued his fingertip to clean it away. He kissed me roughly, lips pinching mine between them and pulling, sucking until they tingled. It was like he wanted to devour me.

"It's okay," I chuckled when he let me speak.

"That was an accident, I didn't expect it to shoot that far," he apologised.

"Me neither," I smirked, cupping his face in my hands.

"Should'a known, it's been a while," he breathed, leaning back and looking down. He tutted at the state of himself, his trousers stained by what he'd left on my thighs. "Jesus," he said, humour clear in his eyes.

"We need a place where we can do this without ruining our clothes," I noted.

"That boat of yours got enough room?"

I laughed, "I think so."

"Perfect," he smirked.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #reader insert #atink

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porkchop-ao3 · 2 years ago

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 69)

Free

Here I come to give you another chapter before disappearing off the face of the earth again!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

We'd been travelling through the night. Neither of us had slept in over twenty-four hours but it didn't matter, we just needed to create distance, and figure out exactly what to do. Our best plan was to head west and hope things had calmed down enough since Blackwater, there was no guarantee of course, but that was better than heading in literally any other direction. We weren't fit to survive out in the freezing cold of the Northern mountains, just the two of us, it was way too risky in the East, what with everything that had happened there, with how many people were after us.

So we kept riding, our horses pulling a wagon which Arthur and I sat atop; it was full of all our things, just like every other time we'd been on the move. Only this time, it was just the two of us. We'd all gone our separate ways, parting with haste below the light of a full moon, saying goodbyes that were far too hasty, though necessary. And most importantly, not forever. That's what we all kept saying, at least. I hoped it would be true.

"You ready?" Sadie asked me, approaching with a sorrowful aura that I hadn't seen since I first joined the gang, when she'd been fresh from the hell of what happened to her and her husband out in the snow.

"I guess so. Just waiting for Arthur. What about y'all?" I replied, and followed her gaze to where she cast it towards John and Abigail; who'd packed so little that it fit into saddlebags, just the same as Sadie. They had to pack light, where they were heading.

"Yeah, we're ready," she nodded, then sighed. "It's been real nice knowing you, it's been quite a ride, huh?"

"Yes it has," I chuckled quietly, then stepped closer, into the arms she immediately opened for me. I squeezed her tight, rubbing her back as she patted mine. "We'll write each other, you know what to do."

"Of course," she nodded, pulling back and smiling at me. Her eyes shined.

We'd all discussed a plan to keep in touch. We'd all have mail sent to Strawberry under various alias' and have them forwarded to wherever we found ourselves settling, once the timing was right. None of us knew when the timing would be as such, it could be years. But it'd happen eventually. We'd all been through far too much to part ways and become mere memories in each others' minds.

John and Abigail approached then, with Jack propped on Abigail's hip, his sleeping head resting on her shoulder.

"Arthur's coming," John said, nodding towards the road behind me, and I turned to see him and Jet emerging from the distance, cast in blue light from the moon. I took a shaky breath and quickly turned to John. He hadn't said much when Sadie and I arrived back at the camp and informed everyone of what had happened. He and Lenny hadn't been around when Dutch had died, and he seemed to remain in a state of disbelief from the moment we described the incident.

I still felt incredibly guilty.

"How're you feeling?" I asked them both. Abigail shook her head, as if to say that she didn't know, and I could understand. I was numb besides guilt.

"Lucky to be alive, after everything," John said frankly, exhaling a small, empty laugh.

"And what about what happened… you know–"

"About Dutch?" John cut me off, getting straight to the point. I nodded. "Well, it was gonna happen some way or another. I sort of wish I could've been there to see it, to see how he finally got taken out."

"You ain't mad?"

"Mad?"

"Well I know we ain't all been his biggest fans just lately but, he was still someone important to y'all," I mused, glancing back and forth between Abigail and John.

"He was as good as dead to me already. He would've killed one of us if he had the chance, I'm willing to bet money on that. He went so wrong, got totally twisted, he weren't the man I used to respect no more. I don't know if he ever could'a come back from it neither," John explained, glancing at Jack, "besides, there's far more important folk in my life who didn't leave me to rot in a jail, and people who gotta depend on me now. I couldn't go on like this and still have anything to do with that man. I guess it's… maybe it's better like this."

Abigail nodded in agreement, kissing Jack's forehead.

"I just can't believe after all he did, this is what finally did him in," she scoffed, shaking her head. "A damn horse."

"My only regret is we couldn't take his ass in to claim his bounty," Sadie snorted, trampling through any trace of delicacy in the conversation up until then. My lips parted, unsure of how to respond, and the others also remained silent for a few painful seconds. "Little bit too far?" Sadie questioned.

John allowed himself to laugh and shook his head. "Maybe a little further than I'd dare take it, but I can't hold it against you," he admitted, patting her shoulder.

Arthur arrived then, swinging his leg over to dismount and heading immediately our way. He glanced between the four of us, assessing the mood, and it was Abigail who spoke first.

"How're you doin' Arthur?"

"Well I'm about as alright as the rest of you I'm guessing, this ain't exactly how I expected things to go today when I rode out to them oil fields," he said distractedly, hands going to his hips. "I uh… I buried him. Took him out to the Cumberland Forest, figured it was a quiet enough spot, didn't wanna hang around for too long."

"You did a good thing Arthur, burying him after what happened," I told him, and when he met my eyes he seemed to not believe me.

"I wouldn't say it was a good thing, I just dug a whole in the ground and put him in it, I didn't say no words or prayers for him. What I did was the bare minimum. Anyway, we're ready?" He said, rolling straight into the next topic, not hovering around Dutch any longer. I swallowed down the nauseous feeling it gave me and nodded.

"We're ready."

"You folks are leaving?" A new voice spoke, and we turned to see Lenny approaching, Miss Grimshaw by his side.

"I guess so," John nodded.

"Mr. Morgan, I tried to stop her from going to those oil fields but she wouldn't hear sense–" Susan began but Arthur just shook his head, lifting his hand dismissively.

"It don't matter now," he said.

"I can't believe he's really gone," she said, shaking her head, her eyes full of pain. I understood that Susan had maintained a somewhat positive relationship with Dutch up until the end, only really seeing him for who he was in the clarity after Micah's demise. No matter how angry she was with him though, it was clear she would mourn for him. And perhaps even Arthur would; all those years of loyalty, they wouldn't exist free of emotion even after all that had happened.

Nobody said anything in response to Susan's statement, there were just a few shared glances and a long stretch of silence.

"Lenny, you got everything you need?" Arthur finally asked.

"I think so, all that's left is to shake all of y'all's hands," he said.

"You ain't going anywhere with just a handshake, kid," Arthur responded, and waved him in for a hug, patting him firmly on the back as he chuckled. "You take care of yourself, stay out of trouble. Make something of yourself, I know you will," he added.

"I'll do my best," Lenny chuckled. "I've had enough trouble to last me a hundred lifetimes."

They parted and Lenny proceeded to hug the rest of the group, giving John, Abigail and Jack one big collective hug before moving onto the others, and finally myself.

"Don't be a stranger, keep in touch," I told him. "I wanna hear all about Washington."

"I gotta get there first," he chuckled, and despite his obvious skepticism over the path he'd decided to take, there was a vibrancy in his eyes that assured me that he would be alright. He was a smart kid, with what he was willing to put in I was confident he would find a way to land on his feet.

"Safe travels, Lenny," I told him as we broke apart from our embrace.

"And to you."

"I don't wanna see no more about you in the papers Mr. Morgan, alright?" Miss Grimshaw barged forward, wagging a finger before pressing forward into Arthur's chest and open arms.

"I'll do my best," he promised.

"Yes you will, this is over now, 'cause I said so," she said, then turned to me for a hug.

"And you look after him, you hear?" She told me, and I laughed.

"I thought he was supposed to look after me," I teased.

"We both know what these men are like," she muttered playfully, then said her goodbyes to the others. Arthur sidled up to me, his fingers hooking subtly with mine where our arms dangled abreast, just our pinkies entwined.

Saying our final goodbyes, I hugged Abigail, kissing Jack's temple before I pulled away, and finally John. I felt my emotions rise dangerously close to the surface, and I knew I would cry if I gave even a little bit of slack to the rope I was keeping them tightly bound by. I took a deep, slow breath as John and I parted ways.

"It's been real nice knowing you," he said, in that hoarse voice of his that still managed softness in times like these. I scoffed out a laugh that loosened my control enough to fill my eyes with tears, though they didn't quite spill.

"What happened to keeping in touch, John?" I balked, noticing that I wasn't the only one taken aback by his comment. He grimaced and laughed, shaking his head.

"That ain't what I meant, shit, 'course we will. It's just a, uh, an expression," he back-pedalled, knocking a knuckle beneath my chin. "Been nice living alongside you, then. That better?"

"I suppose," I smirked.

Then there was a pause. We all looked amongst each other, lips arched into sad smiles, until we couldn't delay any longer. Things were too dangerous, we had no idea who could be coming for us, if anybody. At this point, our bodies were tired and we couldn't afford to fight anymore. We had to move on.

And so we did. And that was that.

I sighed as I went in circles reliving those moments in my mind, adjusting my position on the wagon seat by rolling onto my other hip. My backside was completely numb and probably bruised at this point from the bumpy road and the unforgiving wood. My new position put me close to Arthur, and he looked at me, gathering both reins into one hand and then the other, stretching out each of his sore palms.

"Want me to take over?" I asked. He must've been in control for the past couple of hours and it was probably my turn again by then.

"No princess, I'm okay. Besides, it gives me something to focus on," he said.

I planted my hand on his knee, rubbing it softly in circles.

"You ain't said much for a while," I noted.

"Neither have you," he retorted, though it wasn't with any sort of abrasiveness, there was a vague impression of a smile rising the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah you're right."

"I guess I'm just exhausted. I'm sure we'll talk about what happened eventually, and I ain't exactly avoiding it. I just…" he paused to sigh, "I ain't got the energy."

"That's okay," I told him, squeezing his knee once.

"We'll be able to stop soon I reckon. We're past Strawberry, headed towards the Great Plains. It's a little closer to Blackwater than I'd like but I fancy getting too close to Tall Trees even less. Some nasty folk been hanging 'round there lately I heard. I'd rather take my chances with lawmen than the Skinner Brothers."

"Yeah we should stop," I agreed, suddenly feeling the fatigue hit me once the idea of stopping to rest was planted in my mind.

We rode for another hour or so, and it must've been something like two or three in the morning when we finally stopped. We picked a remote location on the plains, by some trees, simply for a focal point so we didn't feel so exposed. There was no chance of us building a proper camp with a tent, so we just rolled out our bedrolls side by side and made a small fire to bring us some comfort as we ate canned peas to fill our bellies.

Once again, there were few words shared between us. We were both so bone-weary that neither of us even attempted conversation. Small talk felt pointless and anything else was far too heavy for either of us to bear the weight of just then. Instead, we finished our peas and laid down under the stars, pistols under our pillows. Arthur curled his body around mine from behind, settling me close to his chest in a protective embrace that made falling asleep that much easier. Though, my body didn't have it in it to put up much of a fight against the rest it so desperately needed.

We slept well into the afternoon and wasted no time in getting moving again once we rose and realised the time. We stopped by Manzanita Post, where we stocked up on some food a little more substantial than peas and had ourselves a proper meal with bread and meat kindly shared with us by an elderly hunter. The man could barely walk with a left foot almost entirely consumed by a wolf back in '78 – he'd told us the story twice in the time it took us to eat, bless his soul – but he could still hunt. Full and feeling much brighter than we had in days, we set off again.

Moving through the Great Plains, the air felt dryer here and it was a noticeable change after so long in the soupy climate of the Bayou. Though with the sun beating down on us, dampening our clothing with sweat and reddening Arthur's skin despite his hat providing a little shade, I suggested we stop for a while to cool off. Arthur agreed, and we took a rest beside the rapid, choppy waters of the Lower Montana River.

As we sat by the water's edge, enjoying a breeze and some shade from the trees, I realised that the events that had occurred in the oil fields felt just far enough away that discussing it felt doable. I brought it up, unable to hold my tongue as the questions chewed my mind to mush.

"Can I ask something?" I began, prompting Arthur to look at me from his seat beside me on the soft ground, moist from the splashing of the river, "about what happened at the oil fields."

"Go ahead," he nodded, not at all seeming surprised by my curiosity.

"Do you believe that Dutch would've left us be, had things gone differently?"

"Well, for a moment I did. I thought I could talk at least enough sense into him to achieve a ceasefire," he started, speaking through a deep exhale, "maybe I did. Maybe he would've kept his word."

He went quiet for a while, pondering his answer. Just when I thought he was done speaking, he continued.

"But he left me for dead. I saw what he did, and I ain't so dumb as to not realise he would've been glad someone else off'ed me."

"But if you think he wanted you dead, why would you go in there alone, without Charles or nobody?"

"I didn't think he'd have the guts to try and kill me on his own, I figured I'd be safe enough and I didn't want anyone else there making him feel cornered. But I know Dutch, he can't function without a gang behind him," he answered, and I shifted my gaze to Rayna who a little ways up the river from up, drinking and enjoying the shade; and I pictured Dutch's lifeless, bloodied face again. "He'll build up his numbers soon enough, and when he does–"

He faltered, seeming to remember something.

"If he was alive," he said, his voice strange. So that was the something he remembered… "He probably would've come for me when he could have his circus do his dirty work."

The silence that followed stretched on long enough that I thought the conversation was over, once again. But Arthur looked at me again, and took a breath.

"So no, to answer your question I suppose deep down I don't believe he would've left us be. But I was raised by him. I guess that makes me just as yellow bellied as him, and I couldn't kill him either. Not unless I was protecting you," he gestured to me with an open palm, "and thankfully he never had the chance to put me in that position."

"You ain't yellow bellied," I assured him, "far from it. Ain't many people who could come out the other end of what you've been through with any semblance of sanity. And a yellow bellied man would have shot him in the back without thinking twice. You gave him a chance to do the right thing, at least."

Arthur took a breath and rose to his feet, taking a few steps forward and crouching by the river. He cupped his hands in the stream, and splashed his face with the cool water. When he was done, he addressed me from over his shoulder, some tension leaving his stance.

"Thank you, sweetheart, you've always had a way of making me feel less of a monster. I ain't sure it's true, but I appreciate you for it," he said.

"You're far from a monster, Arthur."

He inhaled audibly and raised a shoulder almost in dismissal, but he clearly didn't want to argue or press the topic further. I got up as well and closed the gap between us, crouching down beside him. I ran my fingers through the damp strands of hair on his forehead. When I met his eyes again, he was looking at my lips; and I took that as my cue to lean in and kiss him once, simply and sweetly.

"I'm sorry for how things ended. I could tell myself it weren't my fault and that it was just an accident 'till I'm blue in the face, but the truth is; my actions caused it," I said, looking him in the eye. I didn't allow myself to shy away from him.

"You could also spend your life blaming yourself. But you never meant for him to die. I know that, you know that, everyone who was there knows it too. I don't feel like I need to say this, but I know you need to hear it," he said, then took my hand and squeezed it, "you're forgiven."

His words surprised me, those last ones in particular. I knew Arthur didn't blame me but I wanted to own up to what I had done; I wasn't seeking absolution. I didn't even realise for myself what I needed, but he had given it to me. Forgiveness.

He kept hold of my hand and rose up, pulling me up with him. He then held both of my hands in his, looking down at them.

"And I hope you'll forgive yourself. Because we all lose ourselves sometimes. Something happens and we're hurt, we let our feelings rule us, things get out of hand. That's what happened yesterday, and you weren't the only one there, I didn't stop you because I was hurt too," Arthur continued, and I simply listened to his wisdom, soaking it in, always eager to hear when he spoke at length; he was a smart man and nobody gave him enough credit for that. "What's done is done, ain't no amount of guilt is gonna bring him back, just like it ain't gonna stop me from ever living most of my life following him around and doing all manner of unspeakable things. So we just gotta do our best from here on out, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded.

"We've got a chance, now. It won't be easy, there's plenty of folk still out for my neck and I can't make that disappear, and I'm sorry for that, princess, truly I am," he finally met my eyes then, his looking like shimmering pools, brimming with remorse. "For now all I can give you is my loyalty, and all we've got is each other. So if you're willing to accept me the way I am, after all I've done, you ain't got no excuse for beating yourself up."

I nodded slowly, considering the logic behind his words that was inescapable. I didn't want a free pass for what I had done, and he hadn't given me that. But what he had given me, was enough reason for me to swallow down my pity and accept it for what it was; Dutch was dead and I'd played a hand in that, intentionally or not. Nothing would change it. Forgiveness for myself perhaps would come later, for now, acceptance would have to suffice.

"Thank you," I told him, feeling some of the weight and tension bleed away from my shoulders.

"Thank you," he shook his head, "you've done far more for me than I could ever do for you if I spent the rest of my life trying."

"All I did was love you," I told him, shaking my head.

"You say that like it's a small thing," he chuckled, tracing a line with his thumb from my cheek to my temple. He kissed me again, his other hand moving to the small of my back and pressing my body to his. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and leaned into him, working my lips with his softly and sensually. A dizzying flow of warmth cascaded over me like the rapids over the rocks, and I fed a soft hum of pleasure between his lips.

I could've kissed that man forever. But I had to settle until the moment he shifted his footing and lost it on the soft bank, his legs skidding down from under him towards the water. We broke apart suddenly, and there was a strange moment of conflicting forces as Arthur's arms pushed me back towards the bank to save me from going with him, but my own arms reached out in a vain attempt at stopping him. We both ended up in the water with a heavy splash that frightened the birds from the trees.

The water was thankfully not as deep as it seemed and we ended up laying on the river bed, me on top of him, up to our chests and soaked through as the water broke around us, rushing past as if we weren't there at all. An unstoppable force of nature.

After a moment, when the shock of the cold subsided, we laughed. Like we hadn't in what felt like a lifetime, we laughed until our bellies ached and our legs were too weak to lift us back up. And we felt free.

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