#It could be any time from before Or after colm and dutch were a team…

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Colm and Micah with his daddy issues. 3, 2, 1 go!

Micah 🤝 Arthur

^having their superiors manipulate them/groom them with the idea of family and personal attention their absent fathers never provided them.

[arthurmorganismaboah]

Outlaws Never Die- Chapter 13- Robbing Banks

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A few weeks had passed since the last bust up in camp. You had put your head down and did all the jobs Dutch asked you to. Micah was back in camp now after a score with Arthur, he was good at doing small scores here and there. What he wasn’t good at was doing them quietly. Sean was also back in camp with the help of Kieran who was now, kind of one of the group, though the men, specifically Arthur hadn’t warmed up to him all that well yet, despite him saving his life that you thanked him for profusely. Nothing else had really changed, other than the usual hunting for O’driscolls, specifically Colm and the fact that later on today you were going to town with Arthur, Bill and Lenny to Rob the bank.

As you were getting ready into one of Karen’s fancy gowns, Arthur came to join you in your tent, things had cooled off with Dutch, he still didn’t approve but you had done a lot for the camp recently and proved that you could be trusted.

“Hello, beautiful” Arthur stood at the entrance of your tent, a big smile plastered on his face. He had been smiling so much recently and it made you happy.

“Hello, Arthur.” You stood with your back to him, moving your hair out the way as he helped do up the gown from behind.

“You sure you wanna do this, sweetheart? Can always get someone else to do it.” It was more for his sake, he cared about you greatly and didn’t want you getting hurt, especially after nearly getting your throat cut. He swallowed hard, tracing his finger along the visible mark against your neck. It had healed well, though it was going to scar. It was visibly pink, with scratched scabs where you’d been at it, though you had been told time after time that picking the scabs would make the scar heal badly, but still with time it would fade to a more silver tone so you didn’t give a damn. He finished doing up your gown and paused for a second shifting around behind you.

“I’m sure, not like I’ll be doing much anyway, right?” You turned around facing Arthur, evident makeup on your face. You’d never worn it before, the girls had helped apply it. You looked different and it definitely wasn’t you. Rosy cheeks, red lips, it was all very strange. Arthur smiled at you moving a stray hair from your face, all he wanted to do was kiss you, but it wasn’t the time to be scrubbing lipstick off his face, “do you like this look, Arthur?” You looked at him, waiting for his answer.

“You’re always beautiful to me, y/n of course you are, but this ain’t you.” You smiled wide at his answer. You weren’t going to start wearing tons of makeup for anyone.

Arthur looked at you shyly and then to his muddied boots as he reached into his pocket, “wanted to give you this, woulda waited for a better time… it ain’t much but,” he shrugged handing you a small wooden box. A beautiful necklace, small and dainty with a small stone in the middle you stood looking at the necklace and to Arthur repeatedly not knowing what to say. No one had ever been so lovely to you.

“Arthur, I” he smiled at you taking the box from your hands.

“Turn round, darlin’” you did as he said as he put the necklace around your neck. Holding the small stone in your hand you shook your head.

“How did you know my favourite colour?” You questioned.

“Now that’d be tellin’!” He chucked deep from his chest as he fastened it, “didn’t steal it or nothin, the money was mine. Kinda...” you smiled and shook your head. You knew it wasn’t stolen without him even saying so. Arthur kissed your neck once more and ran his fingers lightly up your arms, letting your hair cascade down your back, beautiful locks almost swallowing your shoulders. Your hair had grown a lot the past few weeks and needed a trim, it suited this look well.

“I’m never taking it off.”

Fixing yourself up more, the tight corset digging into your ribs you wondered how women did this daily, you slipped on your shoes and left the tent with Arthur, Sean standing nearby getting coffee.

“Well look at you two, fun in there English? Can’t see no lipstick on your face, bet it’s elsewhere though.” his eyes glanced towards his southern region. Sean and his usual Irish tone almost echoing.

“Oh, get lost you cheeky, sod!” Arthur waved his hand about shooing him off, his words had made you blush, but thankfully you already had rosy cheeks from the makeup. They had a love hate relationship. Sean was too loud for Arthur; Arthur was too quiet for Sean.

***

The ride to valentine was quiet and unnerving it was cold as you had a lot of skin on show, especially in the chest area. Way more than you were used to, and it made you a bit uncomfortable, but it had to be done. You didn’t bring your own horse with you, instead you were riding side saddle with Arthur. Your arms wrapped around him tighter than ever. You were nervous, you had done things around camp, you went out hunting regularly, you’d do the odd pick pocketing so you could contribute to the camp pot, but this was your first ever big job and it was daunting. You had already caused too much havoc around Valentine, shot the place to hell, or not you per se, but the group and you were all one team. You definitely wouldn’t be sticking around here; it would be time to move out as soon as the job was done.

“We”re gonna send Y/N on in ahead as a distraction.” Bill went on to say, you already knew the plan as it was talked out in camp before setting off. Arthur and Bill were conversing about how it could all go wrong, shooting will start, not all that reassuring. You couldn’t let anyone down, you had to do this, clearing your throat you started to speak.

“So, who should I play? Lost little daddy’s girl or a drunken harlot?”

The other men told you to play as the drunken harlot, Arthur was rather quiet and didn’t speak up about the matter. You nuzzled into his back being careful of your makeup and sighed deeply seeing the valentine sign. This was it. Hitching the horses, Arthur helped you off the back and smoothed out the ruffled creases, “beautiful.” He smiled adoringly at you and nodded his head to everyone, “ready?”

“As ready as ever” you smiled at Arthur and walked off before the men, thinking it was better time than any to play as a drunken mess. Taking a deep breath you stumbled through the banks doors, from outside they would be able to hear the commotion, people telling you to leave, you played it quite well seen as though you were put on the spot, pulling out a gun that was hidden in your petticoat, you pointed it at the civilians, “put your god damn hands up, now! This is a robbery!” The men smashed open the doors and joined you, their faces covered with bandanas, cocking their guns at people.

“Nobody move!” Chorus of shouts ran out as people stayed quiet, your gun against people heads. Arthur went around the back, his voice raised shouting at someone to open the vaults. You’d never really heard him shout so much but you tried not to think about it too much. You could hear the commotion; you could hear Arthur’s gun smashing into someone’s face. It wasn’t the time to think about it, you had to push it into the back of your mind. This was for camp; this was for your people. It had to be done.

It was taking quite a long time but you had to get that for Arthur so he could do his job, “we got trouble” Bill came running in through the bank doors, “hurry up in there, law on our back.” Everyone took cover as people started running out the bank screaming and crying for their families, for their lives. Sitting there watching the other men, you couldn’t move, instead you ruffled up your skirt and legs as close to the wall as you could to protect yourself from spraying bullets that would fill the bank very soon.

“M done” Arthur ran to where you were and took cover, “this ain’t good, Bill. We’re gonna have to shoot our way through this.” Arthur looked at you sympathetically, handing you your gun that was next to you, “alright, darlin?” You nodded to Arthur ignoring the thumping in your chest as you took the gun from him. Squeezing your eyes shut you got ready to start firing.

The sound of shots filled your ears making them ring. Bodies falling on the floor, even the odd horse which hurt your heart. Blood was everywhere. This was carnage. What started off as a tally in your head of how many people you had shot, became a tally of guilt that you couldn’t keep up with. “Let move. NOW.” Arthur was loud but you followed, shots still firing out but dying down, the odd few barely skimming your skin. The horses weren’t far, but it was very obvious you would have to be moving along as soon as you got back to camp. Climbing onto the horse behind Arthur, your skirt up to your hips, not worrying about riding side saddle now. You had to get out of there.

Losing sight of people and Valentine everything came to a halt. “We did well, but we have to split up.” Arthur spoke breathless as he gave everyone their share and kept the overall for the camp with him. “We’re going to have to move out soon. I’ll meet you all back at camp.” You clung onto Arthur, afraid to let go. You also hoped he wouldn’t get off the horse right this minute with the other men nearby. If he were to get off now, they would definitely see up your skirt. They were already trying not to look at your exposed legs.

“Let’s go girl.” Arthur patted his horse on the neck and clicked his tongue, riding away from the others. You buried your face into his back, not caring about the makeup anymore, you were riding for a long time. It was almost dark when he stopped. With a huge sigh he got off his horse and looked towards you. “Come here darlin.” You shuffled up the horse and leant forward hoping to get off in a more dignified way, without showing Arthur everything up your skirt, but ended up with it getting stuck and rolling up to your hips, your bum definitely on display with the cool air getting your skin. You could hear Arthur chuckling behind you, and not in a malicious way. “I love you, Y/N.” the words had you shook, the skirt of your dress gently falling to where it should be and covering your modesty. You looked to Arthur who was all red in the face, the words had obviously just fallen out of his mouth, “I, I’m sorry.” You shook your head and flung your arms around Arthur kissing him deeply as he was taken aback by surprise, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly, pulling you into his person he kissed you back.

“I love you, Arthur.”

[arigatouiris]

revenge is a fool’s game // arthur morgan — [03]

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

word count: 1895

warnings: strong violence, emotional distress, mentions of torture, rape and sexual abuse, explicit sexual references, a whole lotta angst, cowboy stuff;

notes: i am so so sorry for the late af update!! things got carried away at work and i was trying to finish my peter parker story (sighhhh). anyway, this is a short chapter, but do expect an update pretty soon~

not following a taglist for this, i can’t seem to keep track of people who ask so just check on my masterlist~ 

masterlist in bio~

Chapter Three: Ain’t No Foolin’ John Marston

○

(y/n) woke up, just before day break, and panicked. She looked around inside her tent, and breathed slowly before realizing she was actually panting. Her hair was a mess—and she was glad she had cut it to a boy’s regular messy cut, but she wasn’t wearing her bandages. 

Without her bandages, her breasts would pop out. She was big enough to alert the people around her that she wasn’t a boy but a boy in disguise. Without question, she quickly took her shirt off and began to tie the bandages around her chest, tightly. Each time, she felt she tied a bit too tighter—forever compressing her chest to one without breasts.

She hated that she had to do this; she hated living in disguise. She would normally love scents and everything that came with being a woman, but now—now things were different and unforgiving. Her long hair that she had adored once before was trimmed away, and her cheeks were unmoisturized beyond control what used to be soft and smooth. She missed being a woman, but now she had no choice.

After tying the bandages around her, she put her shirt back on. Through the tiny holes in her bottle green tent, she observed that it was breaking day. She had a tiny mirror using which she fixed her hair—and turned into a boy again.

Through Dutch Van der Linde, she would find Colm o’Driscoll, and through Colm she would find a slight bit of redemption. Colm was someone she would take vengeance for herself. He had nothing to do with her brother, but had done something terrible to her. Words and lies were carved carefully to sting her in such a fashion that the sting would never heal, and what remained was a ghost of a person with an inability to move on from the pain caused. She had a plan, and no sympathy and no compassion came close to bringing her down from what she saw needed to be done.

“Riley!” 

She heard Susan Grimshaw’s voice call from outside. Her heart sometimes ached when she heard her brother’s name, but she was her brother now. 

“Come out here and gimme a hand, boy.” She didn’t sound mean, she sounded nice, as a matter of fact.

Riley stepped out of the small tent, looking timid. He blinked a couple of times and noticed Mrs. Grimshaw smiling at him. The smile reminded him of his own mother’s, but Riley tried not to think of anything regarding his past (her past).

“The horses need feedin’, boy. Here,” Susan motioned toward the stack of hay. “Take this to them horses over there. Make yerself useful here and you’ll belong quite alright.” Susan smiled and Riley nodded.

“My,” Susan sighed and said softly. “I sometimes forget ya can’t talk. Poor soul.”

The only reason (y/n) chose to leave Riley dumb was because her voice was far too feminine to hide. She was always told that she had a beautiful voice when she sang, but it sounded too much like a woman for a man.

While Riley was moving one haystack after another toward the horses, he observed that there were eyes on him. He paused for a second and noticed a boy watching his every move—unashamedly, not looking away even after Riley caught him doing so. The boy’s name, he could recall, was John Marston. He was around fifteen years of age, and far too aggressive for his own good. Riley watched him staring at him for a brief while before tilting his head a bit and getting back to work. It had been close to a few days since Riley joined the Van der Linde gang, and while even Arthur stayed out of insulting the boy, Riley noticed John’s hesitance in talking to him.

“Give him some time,” Hosea had said, when he first observed this behavior. “The boy’s got a nasty past.”

Nasty past, (y/n) thought before piling the hay carefully in the stack where it was supposed to go. I understand nasty pasts.

A moment later, Hosea approached Riley and grabbed the boy’s arm. Riley’s face turned pink—(y/n) still not used to being touched so freely by a man twice her age, but tried hard not to show any signs of discomfort.

“Need to talk to ya, son.” Hosea’s tone scared Riley. Instantly, he knew that it was something related to the confession he had made about the o’Driscolls.

Riley blinked at Hosea, while being led inside the white tent. Arthur was standing by the entrance, no expression on his face. Arthur noticed Riley and gave him a small nod, I think he understands that I’m a member here now, she told herself. He hated me before, she thought before blinking a couple of times. Arthur grunted once before straightening his posture. Dutch was entering the tent.

“So, son,” Dutch said before continuing, “You hate Colm,”

Riley didn’t nod. She didn’t hate Colm, it wasn’t hate. It was hard to explain without telling them some part of the story, and that was what he didn’t want to share.

“And you want him dead.” Dutch stated facts.

Riley blinked.

“The thing is, we don’t like him all that much either,” Hosea said, in a calculative manner.

“We’re teamed up wit’ em right now,” Arthur said, sighing. “Dutch and Colm had a… what ya call, a ‘partnership’ o’ sorts.”

Riley didn’t understand. He made a face, which conveyed his exact emotions.

“See Colm’s got a brother, Wyatt.”

(y/n)’s blood boiled. Oh, I know Wyatt o’Driscoll damn well, she thought before frowning. Hosea noticed the sudden change in Riley’s face, but chose not to comment on it. There were some stories each of them carried, with no want or need to divulge them. What he wanted to comment on was the fact that Riley’s wish to murder Colm intersected with their own wish to end their partnership.

“Wyatt’s got his eyes set on Dutch,” Hosea said, sighing bitterly. “Wyatt is plannin’ on handing Dutch over to the authorities for the bounty.”

“Let him try! I can rip his head off his skull and still make him see the end of it.” Dutch said, sarcastically, with a weird grin on his face.

What Riley didn’t understand was why they were telling him this. He knew that Dutch didn’t like Colm, and he knew that they felt the same way about all of the o’Driscolls, so why were they telling him this plan?

“We kill Wyatt first.” Dutch said.

(y/n)’s heart picked up pace. Wyatt was fourth in her list, ending his life meant getting closer to Colm. She nodded once before taking her notebook once.

Wyatt has this horse he loves. We get to his horse and we get to him. He’s a dumbass with very little that he cares about.

Hosea laughed as he read out Riley’s note. “This is why we needed you, boy! Somethin’ tells me you’ve been on the insides of the o’Driscolls’ party!”

It’s the other way around, Hosea, (y/n) thought bitterly, forcefully blinking tears away. Arthur watched the boy, before noticing the sun fall on the boy’s shirt. There was a dark patch in his chest, which looked almost made up. It was like he was wearing another shirt inside the one that he could see. Arthur blinked before clearing his throat and looking away, it wasn’t his business.

“Alright. We get to his horse. Can you identify his horse, boy?”

Riley nodded.

“Dutch,” Arthur said, before looking at Riley. “How can we know we can trust ‘im?”

Riley’s heart dropped. This was one question that he was hoping no one would ask. It was a good question, she had to admit, because how can anyone be sure that Riley himself wasn’t an o’Driscoll?

“Actually, that’s a great point. What if Colm sent you here and if this is all a trap?” Dutch spoke out loud.

Riley’s eyes filled with tears. He wrote in his notebook.

I had a sister. Colm and his brother raped her every night after saving her life one day. They raped her and ruined her life. She is no woman no more. I’m doing this for her. And I’m doing this for myself.

I’m doing this for you, brother. Rebecca’s voice was for herself only.

“I.. I’m sorry to hear that, son.” Dutch said, sympathetically.

Hosea patted the boy’s shoulder before saying, “You don’t have to say anything more than that, Riley.”

Arthur, on the other hand, was the most shocked. He didn’t once think Riley could have gone through so much. After having cared for Mary so much, he understood so much about how hard women had it for themselves. Their torture would always, always exceed the pain that anyone can give to a man. Women were strong, and hurting them came easy.

Rape, Arthur thought, was unforgivable.

He watched Riley get back to his chores, sad face and sadder eyes, and a soft spot bore in his heart for the boy. To lose a sister the way he had, must have taken more than just anger for him to come huntin’ after them o’Driscolls, Arthur thought.

○

That evening, Riley sat alone by the fire. He was thinking about what he had shared with Hosea, Dutch and Arthur, and he wondered if it was the right thing to have done. They wouldn’t have trusted me, (y/n) thought. Arthur is suspicious of anyone new, she sighed. A moment later, she felt someone sit beside her.

It was John. He had a scowl on his face, and his hair was a mess. From the past few days, she’s noticed that John was what they’d call, ‘a problem child’. He was naughty and barely did any chore around the camp. Susan would have to scream at him repeatedly to have him eat.

“I know you’re a girl.” John said, glaring at Riley.

Her blood froze. She suddenly felt very exposed, but this was a fifteen year old child and this old jibe was thrown off the window by Arthur the first time it had happened. Riley turned to look at John and glared back, trying hard to keep the glare on and not let the fear show.

“You’ve got breasts, and you ain’t got no penis.” John said, softly.

Riley shook his head and turned away, red faced—but in front of the fire, one couldn’t tell. She hoped John wouldn’t be able to hear her rapidly beating heart.

“They might think I’m some stupid hillbilly,” John said, “But I ain’t gonna ever call a woman a man.”

Riley took out his notebook and hoped John could read.

Go away, John. I don’t have to prove shit to you.

“Alright, ma’am. I know no one ain’t gonna believe me, but I know yer secret. Riley or if that’s what your name is. You ain’t a man. Yer a lady. A lady dressed like a hillbilly. Don’t know why an’ I don’t care. But you ain’t foolin’ me.” John said, before getting up and walking away.

Riley waited for a moment. He hoped no one heard this conversation, and he hoped no one cared for John’s words. Because of the way he behaves, no one took him seriously. However, John’s hunch, if it was a hunch, was right. Riley was no man.

(y/n) was scared for her life now.

[ohdeputy]

100 Letters PART V

Arthur Morgan x John Marston

Words: 5,513

Read on Archive

Part IV

-

“John, John!”

John’s heart dropped when he heard his name being called and squeezed his eyes shut as he braced himself. After letting out a deep sigh, he opened them again and turned around to see Uncle approaching him.

“What do you want, Uncle.”

It had been another week or so without John leaving camp and he was slowly going crazy. He didn’t know if it was from feeling better and itching to leave or if his current company had finally made him crack.

“Oh, now don’t be like that! I actually had some information you might want to hear, considering you’ve just been sitting around since we got here!”

John couldn’t bear to listen to the old drunk. “Don’t talk to me about sitting around, old man. I know someone who’s quite good at that.”

“Hey, I do my fair share, like getting this information! So do you want it or not?”

John sighed, flatly responding, “what is it.”

“Well, see, Mary-Beth told me about this train,” Uncle shoved a map he seemed to materialize out of thin air into John’s hands. He carefully unfolded it, not sure where exactly Uncle had been storing it.

“I told Arthur about it but I’m not sure he was listenin’, you might convince him though. You two always did make a great team! It would be a good score, I’m tellin’ ya!”

John narrowed his eyes, “you just want the credit for it.”

“I just want to help out, is all!”

John sighed, looking down at the map. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t be so sour! Just think about it at least, jeez.”

“Fine.” John put the map away in his pocket, “I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything.”

Uncle wandered off while John thought for a moment longer. As much as he hated to admit it, it did seem like a good job. And with his lack of doing pretty much anything, he wasn’t in much of a position to be picky

So in the days that followed, John continued going over the map that Uncle gave him and trying to turn it into something feasible. Eventually, he started to believe that the idea had some potential. With something solid in mind, John was left with deciding who would accompany him to do the job.

His initial thought was Arthur, but he quickly pushed the idea out of his mind. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t need him, seeing as it probably wasn’t a good idea to get him involved.

He knew the job needed at least three people, so naturally Charles was his first choice. But as for a third, John had no idea who else he could bring. Javier would have suited the role, but when John asked him about it, the other man informed him that he was already preoccupied with a job of his own. Something about a farm robbery not far from where they stayed.

“Sorry compadre, you know I would run with you anytime.”

John assured Javier that it wasn’t a problem, though he was running out of options for other people he trusted well enough to partake in the heist. His mind wandered back to the one person he knew would be perfect. He cursed to himself, Arthur was the best suited to aid them. John knew it, and he couldn’t fool himself otherwise. Slowly accepting that, he concluded that he might just have to ask him.

John paced around the small area inside his tent, going back and forth in both his movements and his thoughts. If he was being honest with himself, he would prefer Arthur to take the lead for the train robbery, anyhow. He trusted the man could pull it off better than anyone else, including John, and would rather leave it in his hands.

Outside his tent, multiple voices could be heard, with Arthur’s mixed in between them. Thinking he might catch Arthur before he was absent from camp once more, he moved toward the opening of his tent. He didn’t want to give himself more time to think about the situation or back out of asking Arthur, so John quickly exited in search of where their conversation was taking place.

Upon leaving, he heard a commotion going on where the O’Driscoll boy they'd held captive was kept. Peering over toward the source of all the noise, John could make out Dutch, Bill, and Arthur surrounding the tied up man. John hadn’t really paid any attention to him until now, not even knowing his name. He avoided going near the O’Driscoll boy for the most part. Abigail had mentioned him a couple of times, saying she almost felt a little sorry for him. She had even admitted to giving him water when the weather had been particularly hot.

All John knew about him was that he was an O’Driscoll, a bit pathetic, and someone Dutch took pleasure in torturing. And as much as John didn’t want to admit it, the fellow kind of reminded him of himself. He thought of how Abigail seemed to have a soft spot for types like them, goddamn fools.

He watched the group as they harassed the O’Driscoll, John thinking that perhaps this wasn’t the best time to make himself known. Dutch motioned to Bill, who seemed all too pleased to oblige to whatever Dutch had proposed. Beside them, Arthur stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. It was clear he did not share the same enthusiasm as the others for whatever it was they were doing.

Only a moment later did Bill return with a pair of gelding tongs and a look in his eyes that showed he was enjoying this all a bit too much. Dutch proceeded to yank down the O’Driscoll’s trousers in humiliation then waved for Bill to come closer.

“You sick bastards!” The O’Driscoll yelled while struggling against his restraints.

Dutch paid his pleading no mind as Bill took his time inching ever so agonizingly slow toward him, snipping the tongs with every step he took. The O’Driscoll flinched each time, and even John could see him begin to tremble.

“Dutch,” Arthur rasped, wearing a frown, “do we really have to?”

Dutch didn’t even look as he responded, “patience, Arthur.” He had a glint in his eyes that made John shudder.

“Fine-FINE!” the O’Driscoll stammered out, his eyes tearing up. “I’ll tell you everything I know!”

Dutch laughed triumphantly, catching John’s eye as he did. Without breaking the stare he put a hand on the tongs Bill held out, lowering them.

“Awh, can’t we do it anyways, boss?”

“No,” Dutch spoke, a menacing smile pulling at his lips. “He has no sins to hide.”

John finally broke their eye contact, turning away from the group. He was aware of how fast his heart was beating in his chest as he tried to walk away from the scene, suddenly finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other. He could feel the sweat on his palms and rubbed them against his pants.

He retracted back to his tent in fear of meeting Dutch’s gaze again. The safety inside the canvas walls was short-lived when he heard a voice behind him.

“Enjoy the view, did you?”

John jumped, looking back to see Dutch standing at the entrance. Even though John was terrified of the man, he felt his cheeks grow hot from anger, angling himself away to avoid his stare.

When he didn’t answer, Dutch continued, “hmmm, I’m sure you loved to see that. Someone like you, that is.”

Still, John stayed silent. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an argument but also scared of what might happen if he did respond.

Dutch gave his lack of response little mind, only continuing to prod at John further. “It’s a shame Nico isn’t here to protect you any longer.”

John flinched when he said her name, clenching his jaw.

“No worries though, the O’Driscoll can be your new best friend. His name’s Kieran, by the way. I’m sure you’ll get along jusssst fine.”

Dutch dropped his smile, “anyways, I want you to go with Arthur, Bill, and that O’Driscoll boy to Six Point cabin. There is word Colm could be close.” He paused for a moment, “oh, and I want you to be the one taking Kieran on the back of your horse.”

John whipped his head to Dutch, not able to stop himself. He thought about protesting before he met Dutch’s icy stare. It bore into him, yet he swore he could see an underlying amusement there, too. It was as if he were purposely trying to rouse John into disagreeing with him. So instead John stood up, grabbing his gun belt and coat in compliance.

Reaching the tent's entrance, Dutch’s voice made him falter for a moment longer. “Birds of a feather, John. Who knows? Perhaps the two of you will run away together.” His voice lowered to that of a sneered whisper, “though, this time maybe it would be best if you didn’t return.”

Figuring he’d heard about enough, John pushed through the tent’s opening and hurriedly made his way to where Arthur and Bill waited. He was interrupted when Abigail came out of nowhere and practically jumped in front of him.

“John-where are you going?”

“Out.” He tried to move past her, but she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought maybe you could take Jack fishing, the boy wants to see you, John.”

He shrugged her off, “no-just-leave it be, woman.”

She didn’t try to stop him the second time as he walked away from her. He didn’t look up as he mounted his horse, his movements a little stiff as he did so. He was more than ready to get out of there.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Wasting no time, John helped Kieran onto his horse and spurred Old Boy toward the direction he was told to go. The others followed closely behind as the O’Driscoll led them along the path toward Valentine.

“Take a left up here,” Kieran pointed at an overgrown path exiting into a densely wooded area. John slowed his horse as the terrain became less regular. He could make out Arthur riding up beside him, who looked over at John.

“You alright, Marston?”

“Fine,” he answered while keeping his eyes straight ahead.

The more distance John put between him and camp, the better he started to feel. It was nice to ride out together with the others and do something other than sitting around. He tried his best to push away his short interaction with Dutch. The things he’d said… John only just started to relax once his hands stopped shaking. He wanted to tell himself it was from anger but knew it was more than that.

Soon they made it to a clearing littered with tents and supplies, with a cabin at the far end. There was a smoldering fire with food and drink left out like it was only recently abandoned. Clothes hung on wires left to dry but even with everything going on there wasn’t a single person in sight. John sent Arthur a questioning look, to which the other man only shrugged.

“Whatchu expect, that we’d actually find Colm here?”

John squinted, suspicious as he scanned the clearing, “no, but I thought we’d at least run into some of his men.”

Arthur dismounted, everyone else following suit. “We should look around, maybe we can find some idea as to where he ran off to.” When Kieran didn’t move from his spot, Arthur gave him a stern look, “that includes you, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran nearly jumped out of his skin before scampering after Bill to search the site. John only shook his head and pulled his rifle out from Old Boy’s saddle, slinging it across his shoulder.

“Nice new horse, by the way.”

John turned around to see Arthur still stood there. “Thanks.”

The two of them walked together toward the clearing in awkward silence. John thought back to the train heist and asking Arthur about it. Now was the best time to say something. He fidgeted with the strap of his rifle.

“There’s this train-”

“About the other day-”

They both cut off what they were about to say, waiting for the other to continue until a bullet whizzed by their heads and the conversation became an afterthought, their heads snapping to the source.

Bill ran to where Arthur and John stood, throwing himself behind a tree for cover, “get behind something, it’s a damn ambush!”

John ducked behind a log, clenching his rifle in his hands. He looked up just in time to see Arthur find cover behind another tree and immediately start firing his revolver. O’Driscolls appeared out of the woods, surrounding them. They were outnumbered but John was quite confident in their odds seeing as the rival gang was up against at least two adept gunslingers.

John peered over the edge of the log, locking onto one of the men and quickly releasing his breath as he pulled the trigger. He moved onto his next target before the first even dropped to the floor.

“Cover me, I’m gunna get closer!” Arthur called out before moving from his tree to a couple of crates not far from where John knelt. As he did, John quickly reloaded and stood to shoot an O’Driscoll who had the same idea of advancing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another appear from behind an old tent to aim at Arthur. The man’s intention was short-lived as he dropped to the ground a moment later and John reloaded a couple of bullets.

Steadily, they picked off the opposition until a few stragglers were left, who chose to leave with their lives rather than face the same fate as the others.

“Whoooie! Look at ‘em run off!” Kieran called out as the last few just made it out of sight.

“You’re quick to change loyalties from the men you once fought alongside, O’Driscoll.” Arthur searched the pockets of a fallen enemy, shooting Kieran a look of judgment.

“I keep tellin’ y’all, I ain’t no O’Driscoll.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, but John could see he wasn’t convinced.

“Nice shooting there, Marston.”

John only nodded his head as he scanned the ground. He turned over a container in search of anything worth taking.

“You had mentioned something about a train before, uh, you know.”

John looked up, “oh, yeah. Well, Uncle told me something ‘bout a train that’s gunna be heading through Scarlet Meadows real soon. It’ll be at night, not too heavily guarded from what I hear. It’ll be good, plus-” John cut himself off. Plus it would give me a chance to start doing something, he thought to himself.

“Hmmm,” Arthur scratched his beard, looking doubtful.

John got up from where he knelt, “we’ve done it plenty of times, it’ll be good money.”

Arthur squinted in thought “Yeah but… stopping a train? Pain in the ass.”

John was prepared for Arthur’s hesitation, having spent a while going over the plan in his mind. He continued excitedly, “sure, but what if we could force a train to stop.”

Arthur gave a chuckle, sarcastically responding, “well, of course.”

Arthur knelt beside another body to loot, assuming the conversation to be over. But John persisted, moving closer to keep his attention. “I’m serious, look, we get a wagon, a wagon full of something flammable-say oil. Put it on the tracks,” Arthur stood, nodding his head slightly as he listened to John.

“Only two choices, they know they’ll either have to stop or die.” When John finished Arthur looked at him, unblinking.

“So?” John continued, “you in?”

Arthur gave a breath of laughter to which John furrowed his brow in confusion, “that is… kinda brilliant.”

Whatever John was expecting, it wasn’t that. He quickly avoided Arthur’s gaze, looking to the ground.

“Uh, for you that is.” Arthur cleared his throat, “you know, for someone who’s brain is half-eaten by wolves. But I think that’s the first time you came up with a decent plan!”

John rolled his eyes, “shut up.”

“No, I’m serious! How did you manage to end up MORE intelligent!?”

John waited for Arthur’s chuckling to die down, “so we doin’ it then?”

“Sure, sure. But were gunna need ammunition, guns, and probably some dynamite to crack open that train.” He listed the items off with his fingers. John nodded along, “I can get those from town if you focus on getting us an oil wagon, I can go there now assuming I’m not needed here anymore?”

“Sounds like a good plan, Marston,” Arthur smiled. “You sure you don’t want to head back with us?”

“Nah, I only just got out of camp. I’d like to enjoy the serenity of being away from it a little longer.”

Arthur gave a nod of understanding, “sure, I get it.”

“Alright then, I’ll catch up with you later.” John started walking back to his horse as Arthur tipped his hat in farewell. When John knew he was at a safe enough distance, he let himself smile. As much as he knew he shouldn’t let it mean anything, a little bubble of excitement swelled inside his chest.

He rode Old Boy into town and straight to the gunsmith, picking up the necessary equipment to get the job done. He made sure not to forget the dynamite before leaving, too, as it would be crucial to their plan. After thanking the owner and heading back outside, he noticed that it had started to rain.

By the time John made it to the end of the street the rain turned from a light drizzle to what looked like buckets coming down. He made it to the hotel and ducked inside, shaking himself off a bit. Thunder rumbled in the distance, making John reconsider travelling back to camp.

“Can I help you, sir?”

John turned around to see a young woman stood behind the front desk of the hotel. He gave her a smile and a nod, “as a matter of fact, do you have any rooms available? I’ll take anything you got!”

The woman returned the smile, “why, of course! I’ll show you to your room, it’s just upstairs.”

John entered the room, making sure to thank the lady as he did. He looked around the room, it was quaint and small and not at all what he was used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept in a proper bed, waking the next day with an energy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He spared no time in making the trek out to the train tracks near Dewberry Creek. It was located some ways past camp, but John thought it was worth scouting out the area, so he headed southeast out of Valentine. He passed the opposite side of Citadel Rock into the open plains. The sun was high in the sky without a cloud in sight, the rain from the day prior long gone. He breathed in, thankful for the warmth of the sun with the cool wind in the air. It was perfect.

By the time he arrived and studied the spot, the sun was hanging considerably lower. John aimed to find the best spot to ambush the train, eventually finding a dense cluster of trees just beside the tracks. When John was satisfied that this location was suitable enough, he began riding for camp. He was eager to return, wondering if he might go over more details with Arthur.

Upon his arrival back, John could smell the scent of stew being passed around for dinner. He quickly hitched Old Boy, not realizing until that moment how hungry he was. The usual bustle surrounded the stew pot as people grabbed a bowl and sat together around tables and tents. John strained to see if Arthur was amongst any of them, disappointed when he thought he spotted his blonde hair only to reveal Micah. He couldn’t help his face from twisting in disgust, disappointed to know of his arrival back.

“Looking for someone, brother?”

Charles approached John with two bowls of stew in hand, offering one to John. He took it gratefully.

“Yeah, have you seen Arthur around?”

Charles shook his head, moving to sit near one of the campfires. John followed, sitting across from him. He was thankful it was just the two of them.

“He left early this morning. Did you need help with something?”

John couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that Arthur was gone once again. He tried not to let it get to him, pushing it deep in his mind.

“Actually, Arthur and I are doing a train heist and I’ve been meaning to ask if you’ll join us, too. We could use someone like you, Charles.”

“Sure, anytime.”

John smiled down at his stew, taking another bite.

“You seem surprised.”

John looked back up at Charles, “I suppose I am. You never hesitate to offer your help.”

“Only with those I find worth offering that help to. For you, it’s an honor. As honourable as you can be amongst thieves, that is.”

John raised his eyebrows. He was not expecting such high praise from someone like Charles, who he thought was better than any man he knew combined.

Charles continued, “it’s hard to find good people, and I mean wholeheartedly good people, John. I see it in Arthur, even though he doesn’t see it in himself… I saw it in Nico.” Charles looked up at John, “she always did try to look out for those she cared about.”

He paused, then gave a slight chuckle, “I see it in you, too. Though I have to admit it took me a little while to fully understand you.”

John let out a snort of laughter at Charles’ words. A moment later, the smile faded from his lips. “Can I ask you something, Charles?”

When Charles nodded, he continued. “Why did you join us? Why did you follow Dutch?”

Charles steadily set his bowl down on the ground, then sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I ran on my own for a long time. I did fine, too, but it makes life more difficult. The world is a lot crueler when you’re alone in it. I spent most nights worrying that someone might kill me in my sleep. Running with Dutch, well. Dutch is different. He treats me fair, he doesn’t see me for what others hold against me. Most of you don’t, so here I am.”

John nodded, swallowing dryly, “I see.”

He sat with Charles a while longer before departing for the night. He lay staring at his tent ceiling for what felt like hours. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Charles had said about Dutch. It was disconcerting. To be reminded of how deeply rooted people's faith in Dutch was. He wondered how someone like Charles could see such morality in John. And Arthur and Nico. Yet, he also trusted in Dutch. It made John feel sick, knowing the deceit that lay there instead.

He’d spent so much of his childhood seeking Dutch’s approval, to be praised by him. And what for? So he could fall in line with the others to be blindly shepherded along like lambs to the slaughter? Still, a part of him yearned for that validation. It was twisted, and cruel to subject himself to the thought, but it was present nonetheless. No matter how much he might deny it.

The following day there was no sign of Arthur. John didn’t expect to see him return so soon, but he had held onto the slightest hope that he might’ve been proved wrong. When one day turned into two, and two days turned into a week, John became anxious that Arthur wouldn’t come back soon enough.

John mostly preoccupied himself by going over the plan. He talked with Charles, too, which helped ease his mind slightly. After a few more days passed and there was still no word from their third party member, John started to grow a little annoyed considering the train was due in three days' time.

On the morning of the heist, John was pissed. The previous day, he ended up taking matters in his own hands by securing an oil wagon by himself as he felt he couldn’t trust Arthur in appearing out of thin air to say he found one.

John sat at his usual spot under the oak tree. He held a cigarette in one hand and the map Uncle gave him in the other. He looked over the marked X where the train tracks crossed over the road like he had countless times before. He had gone over the plan again and again in his mind, determined to do it right when the time came.

He brought the cigarette up to his lips, thinking of how little his efforts were met by Arthur. He blamed himself for thinking they could do this. It was too good to be true, John knew that now. He just wished he didn’t try to trick himself into believing otherwise so that he would’ve saved himself the trouble of trying. That, and the sinking feeling he had since coming back from Valentine.

He folded the map up and stuffed it in his pocket, not paying attention to it anyways. He was angry with himself that he was so upset over the whole situation. He didn’t know what he expected to get out of it all. To try to be closer to Arthur? Physically, since emotionally was never an option. In all the past eight years that idea had never gone well. So John didn’t understand why he thought that could change.

John could hear indistinct conversation coming from the edge of camp, which he paid little mind in his deep thought. That was until he heard what he thought was Arthur’s voice reply. John’s head snapped up, thinking his ears may have deceived him. To his bewilderment, there Arthur stood in the flesh.

John took a long drag from his cigarette while he watched Arthur hitch his horse. As if he felt his eyes on him, Arthur turned his head toward him. John quickly looked away, scowling as he did. He heard his footsteps approach but still refused to look up when they stopped in front of him.

“Hey-”

“You never got us that oil wagon, did you.” John finally did look up at him, flicking the cigarette away after blowing out his last breath.

It took a second for Arthur to register what he said, “Ah, I’m sorry,” he gave a little chuckle. “I clean forgot.”

“Are you? Sorry?” John shook his head, “nevermind.” He stood, “it’s taken care of, anyways.”

He moved to walk past Arthur, “otherwise we’d miss that train.”

Arthur took the few steps with him, opening his mouth like he was going to say something then closing it. John stopped to turn to him again, “are you still interested in the job? Cause if not I’m sure I can-”

“I am.”

John nodded, “okay then. Well, good.”

When neither of them said anything further, John continued on his way.

“Er, Marston-”

John faced him again but didn’t say anything. Arthur continued, “thanks… for getting it, by the way.”

John stared at him without saying anything, he blinked and without thinking blurted, “maybe we shouldn’t do this job together.”

It was a joke to have thought he could work jobs with Arthur again. He thought perhaps things were good enough between them that they might be civil. But the tension was there already, and it would only continue to build. The two didn’t work well together anymore. John’s heart dropped at its realization and from the look of surprise on Arthur’s face.

“You take it. Get Charles and Sean or someone to go with you. You don’t have to give me a cut, either.”

“What, why? Is this because I didn’t get the damn oil wagon?”

John winced at that, “No. It wasn’t. But it was your job to get it.” He felt his frustration rise, like a fuse that had been waiting to be lit upon Arthur’s arrival.

“You know, I’ve been pretty busy running all over the damn state. Perhaps you should’ve gotten it in the first place, seeing as you’re not preoccupied by much these days.”

John scoffed, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. Since when does John Marston finish anything he’s started. Maybe I will take Sean with me, seeing as he’ll be a good replacement for your incompetence to see things through!”

John raised his hands in frustration, “I’m not talking to you like this, Morgan.”

Arthur laughed dryly, “go on then, run away like you always do when you can’t handle it.”

John gave a look of disbelief, “are you joking? Can’t handle it? You’re the one who didn’t bother getting the damn oil wagon! I actually want this job, believe it or not!”

“Yeah? Well what’s it like being disappointed?”

Their yelling immediately ceased, the air growing quiet like the silence that follows the crack of a whip.

John blinked, “what?”

Arthur hesitated for a second before his features hardened, “maybe you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t work together on this.”

Not waiting for a response, Arthur turned and walked away, leaving John behind in the quiet aftermath of their argument. Alone and with nothing but a boiling anger that grew inside him, John turned too, stomping off toward the direction of his tent.

Without stopping, he grabbed his coat and left again. He found Old Boy and mounted the horse, steering him out of camp. Spurring to go faster, he flew through the countryside. John didn’t know where he was going but knew he just needed to get away for a while. He didn’t slow his pace until he came up to the river. He didn’t recognize this part of the winding waters, making him realize just how far he’d gone. But he didn’t care.

He slowed Old Boy and launched himself off and paced on the sands of the river a moment. He wanted to scream from frustration, yell at the top of his lungs. Looking down, he picked up a rock and threw it into the water. Then he picked up another and did the same, repeating himself again and again. When he got tired of throwing rocks, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He paused for a moment, feeling the map. His fingers curled around it, then yanked it out. Without hesitating he ripped it apart and hurled it with all his might.

For all his force, the pieces merely fluttered around him, getting caught in the wind. They lingered briefly before a breeze swept by and took them away. John watched them go, and suddenly he was on the ground with tears streaming down his face. He didn’t know where it came from, but he couldn’t stop now that he started crying. The sand was cold and damp yet he continued to sit there, unable to move.

He wished he didn’t rip up the map, he wished he could put the pieces back together.

No. that wasn’t it. He wished Nico wasn’t dead. He wished what he and Arthur had wasn’t dead. He wished he didn’t fuck up every relationship he ever had. He treated Abigail poorly, and could barely look at Jack. John didn’t know how they all deserved to have someone as flawed as him. He thought he could move on, but it seemed he would be dealing with the repercussions of his actions for the rest of his life.

John held his head in his hands, gazing into the churning rapids of the river. He wondered when things got so out of control. It felt like just yesterday when he and Arthur were still kids doing nothing but spending their days never apart. Now John was so much older and alone, growing into someone he never wanted to be.

Night fell over the sky making the crickets song come to life and the stars flicker up above. John didn’t realize how long he had sat there until the evening had come and went. Wiping his cheeks with the sleeves of his coat, he eventually stood. His bones ached once he got up, stiff from sitting for so long.

Old Boy grazed not far from the river, looking up when John walked over. He gave the horse a few pats, “sorry, boy. Let’s get you home.”

John retraced his way back to camp, this time much slower than before. He tried to collect himself along the way, finding it to be pointless as his heart was still heavy. He waved to Bill as he crossed over the border into camp, quietly hitching his horse and retreating to his tent. He took off his coat and crawled into bed, his last thought wishing the day had never happened.

[rainythefox]

The Truth of Micah Bell

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR RDR2

Wanted to put my thoughts and theories out there about the despicable rat Micah Bell, and how he almost single-handedly took down the Van der Linde Gang.

The Van der Linde Gang, a highly infamous gang that has been around for nearly 20 years by 1899. By this point, they have robbed nearly 50 banks, countless businesses, stagecoaches, trains, etc. You have some of the deadliest gunslingers, marksmen, robbers, hunters, etc within this group of people, led by a highly influential man armed with wits and a silver-tongue and his partner, a master con-artist.

How does a gang like this fall apart, implode, and crumble within months after so many years of loyalty, love, and dedication? All you need is one snake playing the right angles.

In the game, we learn that after the gang came back from Guarma that it was Micah that was picked up by the Pinkertons and talked, that ratted them out. Molly was just an unfortunate red herring. Now, Micah may not have talked to the Pinkertons before that moment, to save his skin, but there are definite signs that he never had the gang’s best interests at heart, especially after Blackwater.

So the story goes that Micah joined the Van der Linde Gang after “saving” Dutch when he tried to sell stolen gold for the gang and was “attacked”. This was said by Micah in a random camp event, and this is never backed up by Dutch or his closest partner or enforcer (Hosea or Arthur). So we can only go by Micah’s word whether this truly happened or not, but I know there has to be some validation to this as Dutch allowed him into the gang.

He is only with the gang for six months before the events took place in Blackwater that set the ball rolling that would be the untimely demise of our favorite gang. It was Micah that got Dutch excited about this ferry job, when Hosea and Arthur told him it didn’t feel right and had a better lead for something else. The ferry job not only fails, but becomes a major slaughter. The gang loses four members as we are starting the game, (Mac, Davey, Jenny, and Sean, who luckily comes back) and John gets shot. Now when you live this kind of lifestyle, people are going to get hurt or die, sometimes things go wrong. But this gang has been doing this for nearly 20 years. Mistakes like this are unlikely to happen. It has been hinted in game that this ferry was heavily guarded, but that it wasn’t known to the gang, that it was supposed to be “easy”. Who fed this information to Dutch? Micah.

From there on out, the gang continually gets into botched heists and jobs, and this isn’t something you would expect from a gang that, again, has been doing this for 20 years with some of the best gunslingers in the world.

For a man such as Dutch, who, with his fellow gang members, have always stayed one step ahead of their enemies, have stolen heists from other notorious gangs, have continued to live this long despite the prices on their heads, just doesn’t make any sense. I think someone was sabotaging them. Who? You guessed it. Micah.

Let me give an example here. Colm O’Driscoll. He suddenly wants peace with Dutch and their gangs? They knew Arthur would be on the ledge. We knew it was a trap in the beginning. And Colm said it was to lure Dutch and the others in when they went to save Arthur to get them captured by the Pinkertons in exchange for him being left alone. But Micah insisted Dutch do this, preaching a scripted story about how he cares about the gang and that this would get one less enemy off their backs. Micah is the one who told Arthur to go up on that ledge! And that they would meet him at the crossroads after the meeting (which didn’t happen of course). Now, we know it was Pearson who brought this up, saying he bumped into Colm’s men and “got to talking”, and they suggested peace. First of all, how the HELL do the O’Driscolls even know who Pearson is? He isn’t one of the known faces of the gang. Someone told Colm about Pearson and what he would be doing, and set it all up. I’m thinking...Micah. I’ll get back to this in a minute.

When you go back to Micah’s temporary camp after you bust him out of Strawberry jail and he has rejoined the gang, you can find his leftover stuff. One item you pick up is a WANTED POSTER for Dutch van der Linde. I assume it is an old poster as I recall it saying $1000 for Dutch, but Milton stated that Arthur was worth $5,000. So I assume Dutch’s bounty has skyrocketed past that after the Blackwater incident. Suspicious, yes? It gets better.

Now we can chock the fallout with the Grays and Braithwaites as just another failed lead and mess up. Maybe they were smarter than they looked and caught on. But come on, how could these families get wind on the gang that fast? The Grays seemed especially gullible despite their powerful influence. These two warring families should have assumed it was the other more so than the gang. I think someone tipped them off as well. I can’t provide any hard evidence to this particular scenario, but it just seems unlikely that the gang would have been found out that fast without some inside information. Besides that, how the hell did the Braithwaites know where the gang was camping at? Someone had to have told them in order for them to sneak in there and take Jack. I know Hosea wasn’t about to hand Catherine a map with directions so they could play cribbage *snorts*.

Keep in mind Micah still has his buddies on the outside of the gang he could use to relay information or tip anyone to set the gang up, be it the Grays, Braithwaites, Pinkertons, etc.

That being said, I do not think Micah tipped anyone off about the Saint Denis bank job. I think that was a mix between the destruction of the Grays and the Braithwaites, and the botched train station job where Arthur, Dutch, and Lenny were set up by Angelo Bronte. I think this drew in the Pinkertons. Hell, maybe Bronte tipped them off when he saw that the cops failed to kill Dutch, Arthur, and Lenny, and knew they would be coming for him.

Anyways, I digress. Once Hosea was dead and Arthur was getting sicker, Micah weaseled his way into being Dutch’s right hand man. He twisted words and played Dutch into turning against most of the gang, including his most trusted. It was at this time that it went to shit in a hurry, that Dutch went mad and started doing reckless, impulsive actions, something he never used to do. Maybe most people would play into it being because Micah is also impulsive and violent, and he is manipulating Dutch into doing what he wants. Although partly true, I also think it stems that Micah wanted Dutch to be caught/killed all along. Or at least since after the Blackwater incident.

In the Epilogue when John shows up to kill Micah and avenge Arthur, Dutch is already there. Micah makes it sound like Dutch just arrived, and that they had plans to team up together once more. I bet he lured Dutch in, telling him he went in and got the money from Blackwater. He tempts John to join them, although this is likely a trick. After Micah is killed, and the credits are rolling, we see Edgar Ross and Archer Fordham arrive at Mount Hagen. They find Micah’s body. Ross seems really disappointed about finding Micah dead. How did they know where to find him? John, Sadie, and Charles only found out by threatening Cleet. I think Ross and Fordham knew where Micah was because Micah was going to hand over Dutch.

Can you imagine the reward money for Dutch van der Linde? Alive? If Arthur was worth $5000 after Blackwater, I guarantee Dutch was nearly double that. Now some of you may think that it wouldn’t make sense for Micah to turn Dutch in for the bounty when he could make more money staying in the gang. Well, that’s why he played Dutch. He played him and the gang, set it up to get Dutch’s trust, and turned Dutch against everyone else. Once their big score was secured, Micah was going to turn in Dutch to get the Pinkertons to let him go free and he was going to disappear with ALL that money.

Once Micah realized the shitstorm they were in because of Blackwater, he started working on how to get free and save himself. I think he tried to work a deal with Colm O’Driscoll first and set them up, but Arthur escape and it fell through. I think Micah tipped the Grays and Braithwaites off somehow to try and get the gang caught, and I am sure it did end up drawing the Pinkertons in. After he was caught, of course he was going to rat them out. He made a deal to save himself and hand the rest of the gang over on silver platters. I think Micah shot Miss Grimshaw not only to cut down Arthur’s support, but to alert the Pinkertons where they were. I mean, they showed up directly after. He knew they were coming!

And yet again, Dutch and the others got away. And this time Dutch left him, left Arthur, left everyone. Because Dutch realized that Arthur was right and couldn’t face what he had done. Years later, when Dutch comes to see Micah, you know Micah is preaching for them to team up again, using the money from Blackwater as a bargaining chip to lure him in. He knows that if he can keep Dutch there, the Pinkertons would come in and take him and Micah gets a reward and let free. And bonus points if he got JOHN MARSTON as well!!! Why else would he tempt John to join them?

I think by this time, Dutch knows what Micah is up to, and doesn’t really care. I think he is there to kill Micah just as much as John was in that very moment. For Arthur.

Ross is just so disappointed that Micah was dead. It’s hard to miss.

Anyways. In the end, Micah was a manipulative, backstabbing coward who knew exactly how to play Dutch and the gang to save his own skin. He is a rat, but also quite intelligent. I think he knew Dutch’s type, and knew them well. I think he has done this before. He knew exactly how to take advantage of every single misstep or tragedy the gang endured, weaseling his way into a position where he could sell the gang out, turn them in, especially Dutch, the most wanted of them all, and take all their money and run.

“I believe there’s winners and losers...and nothing else besides.”

He almost did too, until Dutch and John arrived to avenge Arthur.

It only takes one rat to infect your family with disease. In this case, that disease was betrayal.

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 16

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

CALIBAN’S SEAT, NEW HANOVER

Pain. Cold. Isolation.

These were the only things I could feel at the moment, and the only things that greeted me as I woke up in this rusty, old cabin.

I didn’t know where I was, or who had brought me here, but right now...all I cared about was gettin’ the hell out.

I had been in the hands of the enemy enough times to know when my life was in danger, and I definitely didn’t intend to get killed now. Especially not when Eddie was out there all by himself, and completely oblivious to what was happening.

I had to escape before whoever captured me found him too, and I needed to get him someplace safe.

...I just didn’t know where to start.

Struggling in my restraints, I tried wiggling around a bit, only to realize that I was hangin’ upside-down from a rickety ceiling and dangling in the middle of the room like a worm on a hook. I could hear distant voices chattering outside, and it seemed like I was bein’ held captive in some camp. That meant there was tons of people guarding me.

Shit.

I frantically glanced around the cabin, hurriedly searching for any possible way out. There wasn’t much fillin’ up the small building, and the only piece of furniture I could see was a slim table pushed up against one of the walls. It looked like there were a few tools laid out on its surface, but nothin’ sharp enough to cut me free. Besides, I was too far away from it to even attempt at grabbin’ one of them. Dammit. I’d have to find another solution.

Before I could start hatchin’ any ideas though, the flimsy door suddenly creaked open with a gentle thump as a gust of cold wind seeped through, chillin’ me to the bone.

The same man from before casually strolled inside as he lit a cigar, its soft orange glow barely lighting up his face in the dim atmosphere of the cabin as he approached me.

He gave me a toothy grin from behind the smoke, his cheek wrinkling due to the malicious smile.

“...Morning, sunshine.” He whispered.

I let out a pained groan in response, still a bit dazed from the bash to the head I received earlier.

“You again...?”

The man sighed apathetically. “I know...my face ain’t the most pleasant to wake up to. But show enough resistance, and soon,” he let out a puff of smoke, leaning closer to me, “...you’ll also be seein’ it in the mirror.”

I did my best to swerve away from my nameless captive, turning my head in the other direction.

“...Just get to the point,” I said. “What d’you want...?”

The man observed me for a second, tilting his head down at me as if I was some little kid.

“Answers, Mister Morgan. I want answers. And I hear...that you might have them.”

The rope dug even deeper into my ankles, causing me to let out a strained hiss.

“...Is that so?”

He smirked at me, his face now mere inches away from mine. “Well, I guess we’ll see...won’t we?”

The man took a few steps back and began nonchalantly pacing around the cabin, his one-eyed gaze never leaving me.

“...Does the name Theodore Bishop mean anythin’ to you?” He asked. “Or Eddie Ryan? He goes by both nowadays, more often the latter. You heard of him?”

I froze in shock.

Theodore Bishop? That was Eddie’s “old” name -- the identity we just spent the past month and a half tryin’ to run away from. If this man was askin’ him by that, that meant he was with Atticus Rose.

Shit. I couldn’t tell this bastard a single thing then, no matter how much pain he put me through. I had to keep Eddie safe.

I kept my lips shut tight and shook my head, pretending I didn’t know nothing about it.

“No.” I answered simply.

The man slowly removed the cigar from his lips, furrowing his brow in a skeptical manner.

“...You sure?”

He suddenly drilled the fiery tip of the cigar straight into my collarbone, causing me to let out an agonized yell as smoke rose from the blackened skin and a repulsive sizzling sound reached my ears.

My mind was shrieking at the moment. I couldn’t think through the excruciating pain, and the longer he kept the cigar in the place, the more I writhed and tensed up, powerless to do anything in my position.

He finally removed it after a minute, not even bothering to hide his amusement as his smile grew wider and I let out a deep, raspy breath of relief.

Goddamn this man. For his sake, I hoped I never broke free.

“Does that refresh your memory at all?” He questioned, throwing the cigar away.

I still refused to give in.

“...No.”

The man slipped his hands in his pockets. “You ain’t seen him?”

A frustrated sigh escaped me. “I don’t even know what he looks like...!”

“He’s a young man,” he described. “English. Black hair, green eyes. Works as a performer at the Râleur Theater in Saint Denis. You sure you haven’t seen him?”

I spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

His glare strengthened. “...It sure is.”

The man examined me for a while, his eye narrowing in thought as the gears turned in his head. I had to admit -- there weren’t many people out there who scared me, but this son-of-a-bitch goddamned terrified me.

There was just a certain air him that made me feel like I was playing a game. That all of this was solely for his personal amusement alone, and that he had only captured me so he could use me like some toy to be disposed of. But of course, he’d never say it. That would be too easy for this lunatic.

The man bent down slightly and took a closer look at me, his nose almost touching mine as he uttered one, final question.

“...You really have no idea who I’m talkin’ about, do you?”

He paused for a second, taking my stubborn silence as a confirmation.

“...Well then,” he finally said, backing off, “maybe you can take a good look at him for yourself...once he comes to rescue you.”

My heart began hammering in my chest at that, and the man chuckled at the sight of my horrified expression, his face plastered with a malevolent sense of entertainment.

He knew. This crazy bastard already knew where Eddie was.

This weren’t no interrogation. This was a goddamned trap.

And I was the bait.

The man sauntered away once he knew it had clicked in my head and made his way out the cabin, callin’ for his “associate” now that he was done toying with me as I was left to my own devices.

“Colm!” He barked, swinging the door open. “This fool’s all yours. Do what you want with him -- I don’t care. Just make sure you don’t kill him. In the meantime, I’ll keep watch. I’m sure Mister Bishop will be showin’ up soon, and we wouldn’t wanna disappoint him...” the man grinned at me, “would we?”

Colm wandered inside along with a few other O’Driscolls, all of them cracking their knuckles and preparing for a fight. Only -- I wasn’t gonna be able to fight back.

My captive slithered through the doorway and glanced over his shoulder, saying one, last thing to me as his coat billowed in the powerful wind.

“Consider this retribution, Mister Morgan...for what you did to my assassins. And to Thatcher Middleton.”

From Eddie’s POV

CALIBAN’S SEAT

Sneaking around the camp under the pouring rain, I hurried my way behind one of the multiple shacks around the area, trying my absolute best to stay out of sight whilst I searched for Arthur.

There were loads of men guarding this place. Some of them appeared to be part of Rose’s gang, whilst the others were with someone else named Colm O’Driscoll. I didn’t know too much about him, or what his business here was, but based on what I’d heard his people say, there was some sort of feud between him and Dutch Van der Linde: Arthur’s boss.

That would explain why they helped Rodrick capture him.

As for Rodrick himself however, I had yet to see the bastard anywhere. Neither him nor Atticus were in sight, and there weren’t any clues suggesting to their presence at the camp. Though, I had no doubts Rodrick was watching me from afar, just waiting to take his shot whilst I scurried around like a mouse.

I’d have to hurry if I wanted to save Arthur. There was no mercy when it came to Atticus and his gang, and I could only imagine what they had in mind for him.

I just prayed I had the strength to rescue him.

Slipping away just as two O’Driscolls came in my direction, I took cover behind a nearby wall and flattened myself against the wood, eavesdropping on their conversation as they passed by.

“I can’t believe they finally caught the fucker,” one of them said. “Seems like ages we’ve been after the Van der Lindes.”

The other wasn’t so enthusiastic. “I dunno, man.”

The first man shrugged. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, it’s just...” he lowered his voice, “what if the boy doesn’t come alone? Bishop, or whatever his name is. What if he brings help? ...What if he gets Dutch? You know that man’ll raise hell if he learns we’ve taken Arthur.”

His friend rolled his eyes. “That’s the reason Colm teamed up with Kingsley, dumbass. So if he does bring help, we’ll have enough men to fend ‘em off. But I wouldn’t worry too much. Apparently, this boy ain’t even part o’ the gang. Just some kid who plays the piano for a living. Now, shut up and go keep watch. Rodrick thinks the boy’ll be here soon.”

The second man gave in, throwing his arms up out of defeat.

“Alright, fine. But you’re joining me later.”

Walking off, the O’Driscoll disappeared in the distance whilst his friend stayed in place, taking shelter from the heavy rain inside the shack I was hiding behind. Maybe now would be my chance to get some answers.

Pulling out my knife, I crouched down and snuck through the back door of the building, slightly pushing it ajar before completely creeping in.

The O’Driscoll was currently by himself, and had his back turned to me as he rearranged some of the supplies stored in here, including crates of dynamite, rifles, gun oil, and even moonshine. I guessed this was the shack where they kept all their valuables.

Waiting for the O’Driscoll to conclude his business, I tiptoed behind him after he finished stacking some boxes and swiftly wrapped a restrictive arm around his neck, covering his mouth before aiming the knife directly at his throat.

The man struggled for a moment, only to cease his movement when he noticed the blade threatening to slice him open.

“...Where is he?” I growled.

He blurted out a response. “W-What? Who...?!”

“The Van der Linde. Where are you keeping him?”

The man only stuttered more. “I-I dunno! I didn’t bring him here! He’s probably in one of the shacks!”

I clenched my jaw in annoyance. “Which one?”

“I really don’t know! M-Maybe in the cabin to the north of the camp? That’s where Colm usually takes most of our prisoners! Th-That’s all I know! I swear! Who the fuck even are you?!”

I tightened my hold on the knife, preparing to strike.

“Just some kid who plays the piano.”

Slamming the knife’s grip into his head, I knocked the O’Driscoll out and dragged his limp body behind a pile of crates, looting his double-barreled shotgun in the process. So far, no one else had detected me, and judging by the calm state of the camp, I assumed Arthur hadn’t attempted to escape yet. I still had some time to move, albeit not much. I’d have to think of something fast.

Interrupting my thoughts, the sudden sound of clamoring brought my attention to the shack’s tiny window, leading me to sneak over in order to see what was going on.

Just outside, I spotted Colm O’Driscoll and a handful of his men dragging a beaten Arthur to the center of the camp, probably hoping to use him as bait.

The man looked like he had been punched, burnt, cut, and I had no doubts he’d met Mister Kingsley already based on the multiple scars decorating his body.

I could feel my blood boiling. No matter how much he may have believed it, Arthur didn’t deserve this type of treatment. He was simply a good Samaritan who had been pulled into this mess because of me, and I was going to do everything within my power to make sure he got out of it.

I just didn’t know how. Originally, I had planned to slip Arthur out of the cabin they locked him in, but now he was in the middle of the camp. So not only was he out in the open, everyone could also see him. How the hell was I supposed to break him out now?

I desperately searched around the shack, hoping to find something I could use. I mean, I had a shotgun now, but that wasn’t going to anything against an entire gang. I needed something that could take out multiple people at once, and also keep their attention off Arthur in the process. If I gave them enough time to react, they’d kill him within a heartbeat. So whatever I did, it was going to have to take them by surprise.

My eyes suddenly landed on the crates of dynamite sitting in the corner, giving me an idea for a plan that I never thought I would have.

It was going to be tricky, and I’d have to be as quiet as a mouse, but if it meant Arthur could go back home...then it was worth it.

I forced myself to move away from my hiding spot, eager to get to work as I prepared my trap. Both Colm and Rodrick were going to regret ever putting Arthur’s life in danger -- but if things went according to plan today, they’d never attempt it again.

From Arthur’s POV

A LITTLE LATER

Throwing another punch at me, Colm pounded his fist against the bruises already growing on my skin as his men laughed in unison and I toppled into the muddy ground, only to be hoisted back up again into Colm’s grasp.

By now, my entire body was aching in severe pain, and the more these O’Driscolls beat me to a pulp, the less I believed I gonna survive the day.

Shit. What the hell was I gonna do?

No one in the gang knew where I was. Not Hosea, not Charles, and certainly not Dutch. As far as they was concerned, Eddie and I were still runnin’ around the country, hiding away from Atticus and his men. They had no idea that I’d been snatched by some maniac, and the only person I could think of who’d come to my rescue was the last man I wanted to put in danger.

Goddammit...if Eddie showed up, I was gonna shoot that boy myself. It was too dangerous for him to come here, and I definitely didn’t want him to share my fate.

Jabbing his knuckles into my ribs, Colm wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled out his gun, almost impaling the barrel straight through my temple as he leaned in close.

“Look at the big, bad wolf now!” He taunted with a rough cackle. “Not so tough now, are you...Mister Morgan? Oh, if only good ol’ Dutch could see you...! How mad that man would be!”

I struggled in his hold, gritting my teeth. “Let me go, Colm...! We both got bigger problems to worry ‘bout. Trust me. You ain’t doin’ yourself no favors getting involved with these folk. They’re just gonna kill you once they get what they want! ...If I don’t kill you first, that is.”

He chuckled at that. “You? ...Kill me? You can hardly stand on your own, big man! You ain’t gonna be doing much ‘cept for dying. And when that happens...” Colm whispered in my ear, “...I'mma be laughing.”

Before the O’Driscoll could torment me any further, a lone set of footsteps suddenly approached us from the front, interrupting our “conversation” and causing us to look ahead.

Marchin’ straight towards the center of the camp under the cold, heavy rain, I spotted none other than Eddie himself as he trudged through the thick mud, armed with a shotgun and ready to go to war.

Christ Almighty...! What the hell was that fool doin’ here?!

The boy raised his shotgun at Colm and inched closer towards him, gulping in anxiety as droplets of rain and sweat rolled down his forehead.

“L-Let him go, O’Driscoll!” He demanded, his tone filled with fear. Or was it? Part of me suspected Eddie was pretendin’ to be the same, innocent boy he was when we first met as a way to gain the upper hand. Smart kid.

Colm took the bait and pressed the gun deeper into my temple, cocking his head in a patronizing manner. “...And if I don’t?”

Eddie stammered, holding his ground. “...Or I’ll...I’ll shoot you!”

That only made Colm’s nasty smile stretch wider and he let out a raspy laugh, his men howling along with him.

“This...” he mocked, gesturing towards Eddie as he smirked at me, “...this...is your knight in shinin’ armor...?! Some lil’ lost soul come across the pond, searching for his one, true love?”

He wiped away fake tears from his eye and shook his head in disbelief, afterwards pulling down the hammer on his gun.

“Hoo, I never knew you was such a hopeless romantic, Morgan. But I guess that’s why you still runnin’ with Dutch, ain’t it? You lot is always chasin’ some nonexistent treasure on the other side o’ the world. ...Heh. Guess you finally found yours. Wonder what would happen...if I put a bullet in him?”

“Leave the boy outta this, Colm!” I shouted, growing progressively more restless. “He ain’t got nothin’ to do with this, or Dutch! He’s just a goddamn kid!”

Colm laughed wickedly, grinning in Eddie’s direction.

“So? Kids die as well as adults, I’ve heard. ...Mind if I test that theory?”

I turned to the pianist, practically begging him to leave.

“Eddie, listen to me. Get the hell outta here! NOW! It ain’t worth it...! Go back home! Forget about me!”

The O’Driscoll frowned playfully, pouting in a condescending manner.

“Aww, would ya look at that? The big brute ain’t so emotionless, after all. Never would’ve guessed you was sweet on boys, Morgan. But I suppose it makes sense, seein’ as how no woman’s dumb enough to have you.”

Eddie ignored the snickers from his men and simply strengthened his hold on the shotgun, steadily aiming the barrel straight at Colm while I desperately tried to get his attention.

“Don’t do it!” I yelled over the merciless wind as the other O’Driscolls pointed their weapons at the boy. But he wasn’t listening.

“Eddie!” I exclaimed again, spitting rain from my mouth. “Listen to me, goddammit! Put the gun down...and run!”

Colm firmly held the revolver to my head, his finger inching over its trigger as he glared at the pianist with a daring look in his eyes.

“Yes, Eddie...” he goaded. “Be a good boy, and run...”

I could hear the sharp clicks of the other O’Driscolls cocking their guns, every single one of us now on the other end of a barrel.

By now, we was all soaked head-to-toe in water -- dirty and shiverin’ in the wind -- and the more rain that flooded through the land, the more Colm merely saw it as a chance to wash away the bloodshed that was about to commence.

I shut my eyes and braced myself for the storm that was about to come, knowing damn-well there was nothin’ I could say or do that would change Eddie’s mind.

The boy readied his weapon and took a deep breath, preparing to fire.

He rested his finger on the trigger.

“I don’t run.”

Takin’ us all by surprise, Eddie suddenly diverted his line of fire and shot through the window of a nearby shack, causing the entire building to explode into a thousand pieces as the impact shook the ground.

“What the hell?!” Colm blurted out, completely forgettin’ I was even there as he tried to keep his balance. But it weren’t over just yet.

Snaking its way across the grass, the fire followed a trail of oil that led it directly towards the next cabin, instantly igniting the dynamite that had been placed in that one as well as a distant sizzling sound reached our ears.

The cabin erupted into a colossal mass of flames with a thunderous boom, the chaos frightening the gang’s horses as they broke free from their hitching posts and galloped frantically all over the camp, trampling over O’Driscolls left and right.

“HOLY SHIT!” One of them screamed, watching helplessly as the rest of the camp was consumed by fire.

One after another, each of the cabins blew up in a line of explosions, the force sending shards of glass and broken splinters flyin’ all over the place while Colm’s men desperately tried to escape the mayhem, running around like headless chickens as they patted out the fire catching onto their clothes.

And as if that weren’t enough, Eddie used the remaining shell in his shotgun to blast away the O’Driscolls surrounding me, afterwards throwing the empty weapon away and whipping out his own revolvers before gunning down any survivors.

He fired a bullet into Colm’s arm, forcing the man to let me go as I slammed an elbow into his face, sending him straight into an unconscious state.

Eddie guided me to cover, giving me one of his revolvers while the two of us battled any remaining O’Driscolls.

“You’re outta your goddamn mind!” I exclaimed, diving behind a nearby wagon.

The pianist hid behind a tree, peeking out every once in a while to shoot down enemies as oncoming bullets grazed the side of the trunk.

“Maybe, but I’m alive.” Eddie reached over and allowed me to lean on him, sporadically firing behind us as he led me to his horse.

“Come on!” He urged, noticing my struggle. “Bullet’s not far from here. We can escape!”

I glanced back what looked like Hell’s gate raging in the middle of the camp, pushing myself to keep going.

“Oh, believe me...I have no intentions on staying...!”

Hauling me away from the battlefield, Eddie practically dragged me to his horse who was waiting just in the outskirts the camp, both of us growing more and more panicked as Colm’s men began to chase us.

Bullet neighed out of fear, only managing to stay somewhat calm due to the pianist’s presence as he helped me up.

“Oh, it’s good to see you, boy.” I greeted the regal animal, trying my best not to pass out while Eddie mounted up.

The musician took hold of the reins, not even bothering to look back before whipping them and commanding Bullet to gallop away from the scene.

“Hold on, we’re almost out of here!” He assured me.

Bolting across the Heartlands with the speed of lightning, Eddie and I ducked and swerved to avoid the numerous shots being fired at us as we sprinted through the relentless rain, digging up clumps of grass with how fast we was riding.

By now, there was probably a dozen O’Driscolls hunting us down, and if we didn’t find someplace to hide soon, they would catch up to us, too.

I shot a few sloppy bullets at them, unable to aim as well as usual as Eddie approached a railroad in the distance.

Even in my delirious state, I couldn’t help but notice the train that was powerin’ its way over the tracks, a bit too close for comfort. It looked like it would be long past us by the time we reached the railroad, and I didn’t much like our chances of makin’ it across...but of course, that didn’t stop Eddie.

I pointed to the train, alerting the boy.

“Eddie...! Up ahead!”

He soldiered on. “I see it. We have to beat the train if we want to get rid of these bastards!”

I darted my eyes around in a panicked manner, searching for another solution.

“You sure we can’t just shoot ‘em?!”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m out of ammo, and we don’t have enough left to take down that many men. That train is our only way out of here.”

I pulled the hammer down on my revolver, making the best of my last few shots.

“Aw, hell...!”

Rushing towards the tracks, Eddie snapped the reins with a sense of urgency as the train’s whistle blared in the distance, echoing throughout the entire area while Bullet raced as fast as he could. The O’Driscolls were slowly but surely gainin’ on us, and with every step we took, it seemed like they took two more. We would have to move a lot quicker than this if we had any hope of escaping.

Pushing his horse to pick up the pace, Eddie and I held our breaths as we approached the railroad, neither of us takin’ our eyes off the other side.

We couldn’t fall back now, and we definitely couldn’t let that goddamned train run us over. We had to get the hell outta here, and we had to reach safety. Makin’ it across was our only option.

Nearly leaping over the tracks, Eddie threw the three of us to the other side as the train practically grazed my back, barreling right in front of the O’Driscolls and preventing them from going any further while we rode to freedom.

There didn’t seem to be anymore enemies in sight, and judging by the lack of gunfire, I assumed they had given up in their pursuit.

We had escaped.

Finally slowing down to a halt once we were alone, Eddie and I took a moment to catch our breaths as we rested in the middle of nowhere, wonderin’ where the hell to go from here.

We couldn’t return to Saint Denis. That was where Colm and that other lunatic cornered me in the first place -- and Eddie too, no doubt. It was no longer safe for the boy to stay there, and I sure as hell had no plans to go back to that god-awful city anytime soon.

I just didn’t know what other choices we had.

Turning around in his saddle, Eddie gently brought his hands to my face and lifted my chin, staring intently into my eyes as he examined my wounds.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice quiet due to distress, “Arthur, are you okay?”

I let out a strained groan, finding comfort in Eddie’s soft grasp.

“...You damn fool...!” I scolded. “...What the hell was you thinking? Comin’ after me like that. You coulda--” a sting of pain flashed throughout me, causing me to hiss. “You coulda gotten killed...!”

The boy ran his fingers through my hair, attempting to soothe me.

“You didn’t really expect me to just leave you behind, did you?”

I clutched my ribs, still sore from the beating Colm gave me. “No...and that’s why I was worried.”

Eddie caressed my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” he apologized, “but I’ve saved myself enough times. When Atticus killed my father, I ran. When he sent Thatcher to kill my mother, I ran. And when my sister cried for help after she had been cornered by an assassin...” Eddie’s voice faltered, “...I ran.”

He regained composure, bringing his gaze back to me as he held back the tears that threatened to spill.

“I wasn’t going to run from you. And I’ll never run from anything again.”

I sighed at that, secretly admiring his determination but also afraid it would put him in danger again.

“You’ve certainly got some stones, Eddie...” I breathed out, barely able to speak coherently, “but sometimes, you gotta run. Whether you like it or not. You hear me...?”

Eddie nodded, though a bit reluctantly. “I hear you. Speaking of running though, where do we go from here? I can’t take you to Saint Denis. That’s where Rodrick found me. He left a note on my doorstep. Underneath your own hat, no less.”

The pianist reached into his saddlebag and pulled out my hat, returning it to me.

I took the accessory in hand, giving him a puzzled look. “Rodrick? Who’s that?”

“Rodrick Kingsley. He works for Atticus. That man is absolutely insane, Arthur. He relishes pain, and I’m sure you must’ve encountered him at least once during your stay at Colm’s camp.”

A bitter taste filled my mouth at the sound of his name. “Feller with the red hair and scar over his eye?”

“That’s him.” He confirmed. “But my question remains: do you have any idea where we could hide for the time being?”

I weighed our options, thinkin’ about any areas that would be secluded enough for us to stay.

I didn’t wanna camp out in the wilderness by ourselves again. After all, we had just seen how many men Atticus had at his disposal, and the last thing I wanted was to be ambushed out there when we was alone like at the Kamassa. The ideal location would be somewhere with a decent amount of people around us.

But...that would narrow it down to only one possibility.

Shit. I guessed we had no other choice.

Peering at the mountains over my shoulder, I squinted my eyes in the sun and pointed towards the southeast, informin’ Eddie on where to go.

“There’s only one place I can think of that’ll be relatively safe for us,” I explained. “But it ain’t gonna be easy gettin’ you in there.”

The pianist quirked a brow. “Why’s that?”

I hesitated before telling him, feelin’ like an absolute moron for giving away our hideout like this. It was a risky move, and the whole gang would probably end up tannin’ my hide for this, but there was nowhere else we could turn to.

I decided to go with it.

“It’s...it’s where the rest of my gang is holed up,” I explained. “It’s where Dutch is. A place...called Shady Belle.”

[unofferable-fic]

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 3 - Full of Sound and Fury

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they’ve made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

Originally found here

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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence, civilisation, jokes at John’s expense.

Word Count: 5,747

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Playlist: “Too Old to Die Young” — Brother Dege, “We” — Bon Iver, “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” — Dropkick Murphys, “Inverness” — Jed Kurzel

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A/N: Also available on AO3. Chapter three comin’ at y’all. And yes I like to imagine that William somewhat resembles Luke Mitchell because he’s a beautiful boah.

23rd August, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa

Another city, another bank to hit. Dutch is happy with our plan to take the bank in Winterset and chose a good team to work with. As well as the boss himself, he wants all experienced hands on deck, so John, Maebh, William, Hosea, and I will be attending. He asked that Karen come too so she can act as a distraction before we make our entrance. She proved she can handle herself in the last town, so we’re happy to have her along. Considering the Callander brothers are newer to how things work around here, he wants them to guard the camp.

With the plan to plant some of us in the bank beforehand, things seem good to go. As long as we get in and out with the money and keep casualties to a minimum — or preferably none at all — then we can call it a job well done.

* * *

“Marston, I’ve a question for ye.”

“What is it, Hennigan?”

Maebh looked up from reading her book beside the campfire. She raised a brow at William and John who sat beside her, the latter whittling away at a piece of wood while the former stared at him curiously.

“What happened to your voice to make it permanently raspy?” William enquired, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “Did Arthur punch you mad hard in the throat or somethin’ and you’ve sounded like this ever since?”

John frowned, his hands halting their movements. “I’ll have you know it’s hereditary.”

“Yeah? Who was your da? A furnace?”

Maebh casually added. “A Scottish furnace, actually.”

“My voice ain’t that raspy.”

William let out a snort. “Ah, c’mon now! You’re only twenty and you sound like you’re pushin’ on fifty.”

“No, I don’t.” Maebh tried to keep her mouth shut, but the look of amusement on her face caught the older man’s attention. “What the hell you smirkin’ at?”

She scoffed “Nothin’! Don’t bring me into your little tiff.”

John threw his hands up in the air and let out a huff. “Then maybe get your brother to stop botherin’ me.”

With a shake of her head, she shut her book and got to her feet. “He’s his own man and I’m not gonna tell him what to do.”

She left them to it, just about managing to hide her laughter as William continued to do Marston’s head in.

It had been three years since she and her brother found themselves in a spot while robbing a stagecoach, and thankfully being saved by Dutch van der Linde and his gang. Though they had both been skeptical of the group at first, seeing Dutch and Hosea focusing on helping those forgotten and in need across the country had helped to ease their worries. Now, they were well settled into their rolls and formed bonds with their fellow outlaws. Dutch had been the supportive leader they pegged him for — encouraging them to keep reading and ‘broadening their minds’, thus ensuring that they were made aware of what was happening in the country as governments, cities, and civilisation took over. While it was a nomadic life, it was better than what they had before. Together, they robbed multiple banks across the country, and gave vast amounts of wealth to the forgotten people who needed it.

The gang itself had acquired new tag-alongs and members since they first joined. Another pair of siblings, Mac and Davey Callander, had recently been recruited by Dutch after he encountered them partaking in a massive street brawl. They were a proper vicious pair of bastards by the sounds of the stories they told, but they bothered Maebh very little. Though they were particularly violent, they seemed to be able to control these tendencies towards their fellow gang members. Another newer member was a woman named Karen Jones. Bursting with confidence and personality, Arthur and Maebh were the ones to encounter the proficient scam artist in a local saloon. She did an impressive job of drinking the pair of them under the table that day and stealing their money when they blacked out. When they later tracked her down, they came with an offer rather than a loaded firearm. Last but not least, the ever flamboyant and mischievous Josiah Trewlany appeared randomly at camp a few weeks after Maebh and William originally joined. Apparently, he had been a member of the gang for a while, but rarely stayed at camp. He was constantly going to and fro, but always seemed to have a lead; the very reason Dutch still welcomed him upon each return.

Returning to her tent, Maebh set herself down on her bedding and continued reading. It was one of William’s plays — Othello — he finished it himself a few days ago and asked if she would read it so that he could hear what she thought. He was always one for long discussions about stories whenever they were travelling long distances for work, or while sitting in their tent at night. Having been familiar with Shakespeare’s work already because of his mild obsession with the bard, she was happy enough to read another of his tales. Frankly, she read any book that William hopefully plopped into her lap.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Engrossed in the story, she hadn’t noticed someone approaching. Tearing her eyes away from Iago’s monologue, she was met with Arthur standing in front of her. “More Shakespeare.”

“You really like his work, huh?” he asked, taking the book as she offered it to him.

“He’s more William’s favourite than mine, but I gotta give him credit where it’s due, it’s a good read.”

He flicked through the pages carefully. “Sure. Hope I ain’t disturbin’ your good readin’?”

She waved him off. “Nah. I’ve been at it for most of the mornin’ anyway so I should probably call it a day.”

He nodded and handed her back the play, resting his hands on his belt buckle. “If you ain’t up to much, I was gonna go do some huntin’ if you wanna join? You can ask your brother too if he ain’t busy.”

“Yeah.” She offered him a small smile. “That sounds fun actually. I could do with gettin’ outta camp for a bit.”

“Good, good. Grab your bow and I’ll fetch William before he makes Marston’s head explode.”

“Might want’a move quick, then.”

With a smile, Arthur left to do just that and Maebh gathered her hunting supplies in a bag. She hurried over to the hitching post where William’s mount, Dantès, was currently stationed and waited for the others. She offered him a sugar cube from her pocket and stroked his mane, admiring the animal with genuine fondness. She was surprised to see not only Arthur and William approaching, but also John following closely behind them.

“Marston wanted to join us,” Arthur explained as he readied Boadicea. “So don’t be surprised if him and your brother decide to turn a huntin’ trip into a competition.”

“No thanks,” William countered, patting his horse’s neck. “I’m just here to help get supplies. I’d rather beat him at a good aul fist fight anyway.”

“We can make that happen!” John assured him as he got on top of his own horse.

William shook his head and hoisted himself atop Dantès before he offered his sister a hand on to the back of the Dutch Warmblood. “You ever goin’ t’get yourself a new horse?”

“I will eventually,” she replied and hung on to his slim waist. “It’s not an easy thing to do, y’know, gettin’ over a horse.”

“You’ll know when the time is right,” Arthur added, taking his hat from his saddlebag and putting it on his head. “We ready to go, fellers?”

Soon, the four of them were heading out. They galloped through the rolling hills of Madison County, basking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. They reached a spot not far from camp that was known for having a decent amount of activity amongst the local wildlife. One of the many smaller ponds in the area, deer and other herbivores were common enough around those parts, especially on a hot day like this. They left their horses hitched to some trees and went about planning how to take down a few deer if they could. Splitting into two teams, the Hennigans went to one end while Morgan and Marston went to the other. Not far from where Dantès was hitched, Maebh spotted a rabbit slowly scurrying amongst the brush. Crouched low behind a tree, she notched an arrow and steadied herself when William encouraged her to kill it. It was released with a thwack, and flew through the air before successfully piercing the animal, killing it instantly. Its carcass was swiftly clipped to his saddle before the pair slowly crept to a spot near the lake. From here, hidden within some bushes and the shade of an overhanging tree, they could get a good view of the surrounding area and the deer that currently stood drinking water on its bank. Arthur and John could be seen on the other side, thankfully far enough away that their hunting wouldn’t disturb the Hennigans’ targets.

“Right,” William began in a whisper. “We’ve got three horses, which means three deer max. D’you want to get this one?”

She shook her head. “Nah. I got the rabbit — you can hardly go through a huntin’ trip without catchin’ somethin’.”

“If you insist, sis. You’ll grab its attention?”

Maebh watched as her brother carefully notched an arrow and steadied his aim with an unbreakable focus. They had hunted together on too many occasions to count throughout their lives together, so the process was familiar at this stage. When he gave her the signal, she whistled and caused a nearby buck to raise his head in response. Lacking any hesitation, he let the arrow fly and struck it in its neck. With a mewl, the buck fell to the ground and died as the other deer scattered in fright.

“Nice shot,” she commented, glad that the animal didn’t suffer needlessly. “Need a hand carryin’ it back?”

William grinned widely and stood up straight once more. “Ah, thanks, but I’m grand. I don’t want to give Marston an excuse to claim I wasn’t the one who caught it.”

“Don’t mind him,” she insisted, though her tone was moderately amused with the jesting. “He’ll probably pass comment regardless of who carries it back to the horses.”

“Probably,” he replied, and hoisted the carcass over his shoulder. “But no need to give him a bit of ammo.”

She shook her head as they strolled back to the horses, taking in the sight of the peaceful  little lake, now practically devoid of animals thanks to their intrusion. On the other side, she could just about see Arthur and John carrying their own kills in the same direction. “I swear, you’s two would make a competition out of breathin’ if you could.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea… We’ll see who can hold their breath underwater the longest!”

“You know he can’t swim…”

“… Who can hold their breath the longest in general then! First to pass out loses.”

“Jaysus Christ.”

Dantés waited patiently as the pair of them return to his side. While Maeve petted his mane, William loaded the buck on to his rear and secured it with some rope. Not long after that, their companions appeared through the brush, each carrying their own deer.

Maebh offered them a friendly ‘Howdy, gentlemen’, though Dantés still held most of her attention.

“Only one buck?” Marston observed, voice slightly out of breath as he carried the hefty animal. “You two are losin’ your edge.”

“Excuse me,” she interjected. “I’ll have you know, Mr Marston, that I caught that succulent lookin’ rabbit too.”

“And a fine rabbit it is,” Arthur chuckled good-naturedly. “He’ll taste good in a stew, although probably not if Pearson’s makin’ it.”

“Marston,” William announced and approached said man as he placed his catch on his horse. “Got a challenge for ya.”

John smirked. “You lookin’ to get beat, boy?”

“I’m only two years younger than ya, pal, calm down.”

“Alright, what you have in mind?”

“We both get thrown into the lake and the first to drown loses.”

Arthur burst out into a hefty laugh while Maebh found herself guffawing at the bitter look of displeasure on Marston’s face. She interjected before a full on fight could break out. “C’mon, let’s get these back to camp before you two have another one of your marital spats.”

Thankfully, everyone agreed to mount up and head back. The success of the trip had the group in good spirits and they took their time heading home, choosing to let the horses roam on an easy trot. As they made their way along the trail, William spotted a small band of wild horses grazing on a rolling hillside. A particularly beautiful chestnut stallion had the young man whipping out his binoculars to get a better look.

William let out a whistle before passing the device to his sister. “That’s some horse.”

“This might be a good opportunity for you to get a new mount,” John suggested. “Considerin’ it’s ’bout time you got one.”

“I’m not the best at breakin’ in horses,” Maebh admitted as she studied the animal from a safe distance atop Dantés. “I’ve much more experience with breakin’ in fellas.”

John spluttered at the retort while Arthur hid an amused grin. “We’ve got your back if’n you wanna try. Gotta try breakin’ in wild horses sometime.”

Knowing that her companions were right, and with a reassuring promise from William to step in if needed, Maebh hopped on to the ground and slowly approached the grazing horse. She planted her feet carefully as she waded through the grass, trying to keep herself  — and the animal — calm. Upon noticing her approach, the stallion raised its head and whinnied. The rest of the herd, alerted to the disturbance, began to scatter in the opposite directing, their hooves thundering into the distance.

“Hey there, big fella,” Maebh called out to the stallion, feeling a little stupid for doing so while her friends were nearby.

The horse stomped a hoof in reply, heavy breaths being snuffed from his nostrils. Despite his visible discomfort, he didn’t run as she continued to slowly make her way to him.

“My brother said you were some horse,” she continued. “And now that I’m up close to ya, I can see he wasn’t full of it.”

The animal began to make small jumps on to his back hooves, neighing as she closed the gap.

“Easy boy, easy… You’re alright. Look at you.”

Eventually she reached the stallion’s side with sure and careful strides. The animal, though somewhat calmer than before, was still visibly uncertain with her presence. She reassured him by carefully patting his neck, though always on edge in case he lashed out — the last thing she wanted was a horse shoe to the face. The thoughts had her heart thumping rapidly.

Thinking that the interaction was progressing well, she saw an opportunity and quickly hoisted herself on to the horse’s back.

It didn’t end well for Maebh.

She managed to hang on to the now panicking horse’s golden mane for some time, trying to desperately balance herself as it leapt around the pasture and tried to buck her off. The rapid spinning of the world around her and the deafening neighing quickly became too much. Suddenly, her balance was lost and she was falling through the air. The landing stung but she didn’t have much time to think about it; the stallion’s legs were kicking wildly and she could only assume she was in its path. Despite the wind being knocked out of her, she rolled her body in a direction she hoped was away from the  angered animal. She rolled and rolled and, as she sensed a distance being put between them, raised her head.

William stood beside the horse, lasso already wrapped around its neck and ensuring that the animal calmed down. Hands grasped her shoulders, and she looked up to see the worried expression on Arthur’s face. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she admitted and winced as he helped her sit up. “I think I made a balls of that.”

“You nearly had it,” he replied and gave her a once over. “But I think it's in better hands now.”

Now that the horse had calmed down, William thrust the lasso into the stunned John’s hands before flying over to his sister’s side. “Are you alright? He didn’t kick you, did he?”

Seeing the panic in his green eyes, she tried to reassure him. “Nah, I’m grand.”

“You got bucked off a fuckin’ horse and you expect me to think you’re grand.”

“I am grand.”

“We’ll have Miss Grimshaw take a look at her back at camp,” Arthur added, presumably trying to calm the situation. “The main thing is she didn’t get kicked. Looks like she got away with only some bruises.”

She pouted at her sibling while he gently brushed some dirt off her tinted cheeks. “I’m sorry I gave you a fright, William.”

“You can repay me by lettin’ me help you back to camp.”

William and Arthur carefully hauled her to her feet, and she was relieved that she could stand without their assistance.

“She okay?” John called while he remained with the wild stallion a few feet away.

“She’ll be fine,” Arthur answered as he fetched their horses. “Doesn’t look like she got any broken bones.”

She allowed William to help ease her atop Dantés and carefully wrapped her arms around his waist as he sat in front of her. “Well, that was embarrassin’…”

“At least you got a new horse outta it,” he offered, taking the lasso as John passed it to him. “And you didn’t die either.”

“I think that horse is yours. You calmed him after all, and I don’t think he likes me much.”

William didn’t even glance at the animal as it followed them back to camp. “We’ll discuss that after we make sure you’re okay.”

Knowing that there was no arguing with him, Maebh simply let her cheek rest against his back and enjoyed the smooth ride home, nursing the ache in her hip and her somewhat fractured ego.

* * *

Arthur had thankfully been right — Maebh managed to escape the incident with no broken bones and only received a bit of hefty bruising on her hip and shoulder from the fall. It was nothing too serious, bar some cuts and grazes. She was mostly just relieved that none of her injuries kept her from the bank robbery that they had scheduled to do a few days afterwards. William didn’t leave her side for days, despite the fact she could walk and talk with no issue. She was however prevented from doing other jobs and leaving camp; Dutch said he wanted her in tip top shape for the robbery, so aggravating her injuries wasn’t an option. She did manage to convince her brother to keep the damn horse though, and now the stallion — formally named Banquo — stood grazing with the others at camp. Arthur checked up on her too, bringing hot food and coffee with him. His presence was appreciated, especially when she started getting anxious about being stuck in camp. At night time, Karen came to her with some beers and the two usually ended up drinking themselves to sleep after a sing-song with Uncle and Miss Grimshaw.

Maebh was relieved when the days passed by and the morning of the robbery arrived. She felt fit and ready for the occasion thanks to her few days of rest. Soon, she and William were riding into Winterset with Dantés and one of the spare mounts from camp.

The plan was simple enough. In order to avoid suspicions with a large group riding into town, she and William would go into the bank alone with concealed guns and inquire about making an account as a newlywed couple. Hosea would also go to the bank on his own, and the three of them would wait on opposite ends of the room for the others’ arrival. Karen was the signal that things would begin — she would come in, cause a distraction to grab everyones attention, and Dutch, Arthur, and John would storm the bank through the front door. Once they arrived, it was masks on and all hands on deck. Arthur was to intimidate the manager into opening the lock boxes as quietly and as quickly as possible. The others would keep the tellers quiet. The plan was that there would be no casualties.

They rode into town, dressed to impress in a suit and frock respectively. Having hitched their horses on the edge of town and entering the bank, Maebh and William played their part well, and the latter got into a casual conversation with one of the tellers under his alias.

“I think I should discuss it with my new wife before making a decision; she’d murder me if I did it without her. Y’know how women can be, huh, pal?”

They retired to a pair of seats on the right and pretended to be in deep conversation about their finances. Across the room, Hosea sat and made as though he was perusing through some bank statements.

“We’re lucky it’s not very busy today,” Maebh said to her brother in a hushed whisper. “Less people in the crossfire.”

He glanced around the room quickly before meeting her gaze. “Hopefully that’ll play in our favour. In and out in no time.”

It wasn’t long before wails could be heard outside and a figure came crashing through the front door. Karen stood there, dressed in her fanciest outfit with tears streaming down her plump cheeks. She heaved out complaints about an apparent man who had wronged her as one of the bank’s staff came to her side. Whatever attempts he had at hushing her were drowned out by her howling. She expertly drew him in, only to suddenly unveil a gun and push it into his gut.

Her voice shed its previous woes, now laced with stinging vinegar. “Get your goddamn hands up! This is a goddamn robbery!”

At her signal, Dutch, Arthur, and John burst through the doors, bandanas covering half their faces and guns raised.

“Nobody move!”

“Hands up!”

“Anyone moves and we shoot!”

John was on the teller with the keys in an instant, and William and Maebh moved into position. They tugged their bandanas on and William and Hosea quickly shut the front doors while Maebh waited by the teller’s door.

“Unlock the door,” John ordered and swiftly tossed her the keys. “Quick!”

Maebh did as asked, trying to ignore some of the pleads from the bank’s workers.

“This is a robbery, gentlemen,” Dutch announced, addressing the whole room. “And we don’t want to shoot any of you kind folk. So do as we say and no one gets hurt, is that clear?”

As soon as she unlocked the door, she called out to Arthur. “We’re in! Come help sort the vault out.”

While the others attended to those in the main room, Maebh, William, and Arthur stormed through the door to the vault. Arthur grabbed the manager by his collar and switched his demeanour like the flip of a coin.

“Open the goddamn vault!” he screamed, revolver pointed to his head. “Open it!”

“Okay, okay,” the manager said, voice quivering in terror considering he had three guns pointed at his head. “Just don’t hurt me, p-please. I’ve got a family—”

“Open the fuckin’ vault if you want’a see them again!” William growled, getting the man to move. “C’mon the fuck!”

He got to opening the vault, moving too slowly for their liking. With a swift whack of Arthur’s cattleman, he worked faster. “Sonofabitch, c’mon! Hurry up!”

The door opened with a heavy creak, and William pushed the suit into the vault with them. Inside were four lock boxes that were sure to hold ample amounts of money they could use. Though things were going well, Maebh could feel sweat building on the back of her neck.

“We’re in!” she called out to the others. “How you’s holdin’ up out there?”

“We’re fine,” Dutch called back. “Just make sure he opens those lock boxes up without causin’ any trouble!”

Arthur grasped the manager once more and threw him towards the lock boxes. “You best get them open before I put a goddamn hole in your head, boy!”

There was no arguing to be had, and the manager did as he was asked. They quickly shoved the contents of the lock boxes into four bags Arthur had brought along.

Once they were in the clear, William gave the manager a box and knocked him out cold. “That should give us a bit more time to get away.”

Before either of them could make a comment about how smoothly things had gone, a commotion stirred up in the other room. A single shot rang out. Glass smashed and screams erupted. Hosea’s voice could be heard amongst the rabble. “What the hell are you doin’?”

The trio emerged from the teller’s door to see Dutch stood by the front door, one of the window panes smashed through and glass littered on the ground. Maebh glanced out one of the other windows and saw a dead lawman on the street, blood pouring from a bullet hole in his chest. The weight of the money bag on her back felt all the more heavier now.

“What in the hell happened?” Arthur demanded.

“Lawman was investigatin’,” Dutch explained hastily. “He saw what was goin’ on — I had to shoot him.”

“We don’t kill people on these jobs!” Hosea argued, disgusted by the turn of events.

Dutch refused to back down. “We do when our lives are at stake!”

“Well now you’ve put all of us at risk! We could’ve done somethin’ else!”

Karen quickly joined Maebh at the window just as more lawmen appeared outside. “Awh, shit… We got more law outside, boys!”

“They sure as shit know we’re here now,” Maebh added and turned to face her friends. “What do we do?”

“We fight our way out,” Dutch answered, drawing his pistols in each hand. “And get back to camp alive and with the money. We’ve been plannin’ this for too long to give up now. We gotta leave this town as quick as we can. Arthur and I will open fire and force them to stay in cover while the rest of you get to the horses. Head down the alley and loop around; Hosea will lead the way. Shoot anyone in your way, you hear me?”

“Lead the way, Dutch,” John said and took the spare money bag from Arthur. “We’re right behind you.”

A swift glance amongst the group to ensure that everyone was ready, and Dutch was kicking the door open. He was the first to open fire on the waiting lawmen, who ducked behind shop fronts and buildings to steer clear of the bullets. Arthur followed, wielding a repeater and forcing their adversaries to hide if they wanted to avoid being shot. One by one they emerged from the bank, cash in hand and guns ready to take out anyone who threatened their escape. As always, Maebh planted herself ahead of William, staying low as they hurriedly turned and snuck down the side alley and through the back gardens of several shops and a hotel. The thundering clamour of guns firing and bullets flying through wood and clashing with brick could be heard as Hosea, Karen, Maebh, William, and John skirted around corners and hopped over short fences.

As the horses appeared up ahead, visibly skittering at the sound of shots firing, Maebh threw a glance over her shoulder to see if Dutch and Arthur were nearby. She let John and William pass her as she peered around one of the alleys.

“What are you at?” William asked, hesitating to continue.

“We can’t leave without them,” she insisted, wiping her brow and getting her breath back. “Two men against a whole load of law won’t end well.”

“It’s Morgan and Dutch; they’ll be grand. We need to stay with the others.”

Though the commotion continued to rage, she was relieved to see Arthur come barrelling around one of the corners, skidding on the dirt ground as he went.

Upon seeing the siblings, he sprinted to their side. “Y’all okay?”

Maebh shook her head. “I feel like we should be askin’ you that. Where’s Dutch?”

“Comin’ ’round now. He told me to go ahead, so let’s move.”

With his confirmation that their leader was alright, the pair followed the older man as they continued in their escape. As they reached the horses — the others already mounted up and ready to leave — Maebh saw Dutch appear from the corner where Arthur had come running. He was unscathed and thankfully outrunning and law that was following him. She would have grinned at the sight, had he been alone.

Before she could cry out in warning, an armed lawman leapt from around a fence behind Dutch. With a whack, he clocked him in the jaw with the butt of his carbine. Dutch was sent sprawling to the dirt.

Maebh grabbed Arthur’s arm in a knee jerk reaction and her breath caught in her throat.

As the lawman stood over their floundering companion and aimed his gun at Dutch’s head, she heard Arthur desperately calling out his name.

A single gunshot cracked through the air.

With a clatter, the carbine felt limply out of the lawman’s hands. His body went next, landing in a lump on the ground, and blood spurting from the wound in the back of his head. Dutch was stunned, as they all were.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” William asked.

Behind the lawman stood a reverend, decked out in a classic black coat and white neckerchief. Underneath his large brimmed hat was thick, wild ginger hair and a weary but anxious expression. In his hand he held a revolver, smoke steaming from its barrel — the weapon that had saved Dutch’s life.

“Thank you, Reverend,” Dutch said, voice cracking beneath his bandana as he let out a sigh of relief. “I think you just saved my life.”

“I think you were in trouble and I helped you,” the stranger replied, frowning beneath his moustache. “Doing nothin’ would’ve been wrong.”

Arthur quickly turned to the others atop their horses. “You three get outta here! We’ll make sure he’s alright.”

Needing no further encouragement, Hosea quickly guided John and Karen out of town at breakneck speeds. Maebh and Arthur sprinted to Dutch and his new friend while William quickly gathered the horses and prepared them for departure.

“Well, I doubt the law will see it that way,” Dutch said as she and Arthur quickly  helped him to his feet. “If you wanna live, I recommend comin’ with us.”

“I don’t even know your name,” he replied, but followed uncertainly as they approached their horses. “And by the sounds of things, you just robbed the bank.”

Dutch was quick to mount up and offered the man his hand. “I ain’t gonna lie to you — we did just rob that bank. There will be time for introductions later though. You saved my life, and I owe you a debt, Reverend.”

Though he hesitated for the briefest of seconds, the reverend took the offered hand and hopped on to the Count. Each of them mounted up, just as more law arrived in town, this time riding on horseback. Maebh grabbed her reigns and quickly pushed her horse to follow her companions’ tail. Last to leave, she tried to stay close behind her friends as they galloped out past the town’s limits.

Up ahead, Arthur called out. “More comin’ in!”

She looked up and, atop a small hill, three more riders appeared, coming towards them with guns drawn. Dutch was on them first, taking one man down while Arthur got another in a flurry of bullets. One remained, but she steered her heavily breathing horse in an attempt to dodge the oncoming attack. Her companions sped off up ahead, the continued strain of jerky movement causing her horse to tire and slow.

They were far off when her horse cried out in pain and several bullets struck the animal. For the second time in a few days, Maebh was flung from a stallion and sent crashing into the dusty road below with some force. Her head spun and her shoulder throbbed. She breathed deep, lungs working overtime to get whatever air she could down her burning throat. Quite suddenly, her scalp stung as a vicious hand grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.

She cried out as tears built in the corners of her eyes. Through blurred vision she saw the lawman who shot her mount. Now he stood before her, his gun stuck in her face. “I got you now, you little—”

A deafening blast cracked through the ringing in her ears, and the man’s chest quite literally exploded. Blood and bits of flesh and bone struck her face, and suddenly, the pressure on her skull relaxed. With a wobble, he crashed to the ground, revealing a fuming William behind him. He sat atop his horse, shotgun in hand with a look that could kill. His piercing eyes fell on her — his only visible feature thanks to his bandana — brow furrowed so deep into his brow that it cast a shadow over his youthful face and emphasised the scar marred into his skin. He barely even flinched as he holstered his weapon once more.

“Get on his horse!” he ordered through gritted teeth by the sounds of it. “We need’ta leave now!”

Though dizzy and trying to get her breath back, Maebh listened to her brother, and quickly hauled herself on to the abandoned animal. There was simply no time to think about what had occurred — if she thought about her close encounter at that very moment, it would surely cost her her life this time around. With a glance at the dead horse and body in the middle of the road, she lurched and kicked the animal into a gallop, following her brother over a hill and out of sight as cries from the evaded lawmen disappeared on the wind.

[squidproquoclarice]

Don't know what you'd think of this, but my read on Dutch is that his first concern is his own safety, and when his safety isn't a concern his talk is genuine. When everything starts going to shit his selfish nature comes to the forefront and he subconsciously ramps up the manipulation tactics. And I don't how Ch 6 Dutch would have behaved if he wasn't Post-Hosea and brain damaged.

I’m wrapping this into another Ask of “You believe Dutch never loved Arthur, John, or any of them?”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~To answer second Ask very directly, I’d say no, that Dutch never loved any of them.  But that’s due to asking “What is love?”  (Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more).  I’m saying that with the perspective that real, genuine love needs empathy, selflessness, concern for the other person first above yourself.  You can be very fond and affectionate and caring, but if you’re a narcissist who will always, always instinctively want to put yourself first, if you’ll sacrifice them for your needs, then yeah, you don’t truly love them.  You can’t.  But none of them knew it, including perhaps Dutch, because they weren’t pushed anywhere near that until 1899.  The only vague hint we have is his implied habit of going through women and treating them as somewhat dispensable.  (I do think he was fond of Annabelle, but if you dig into it, I’m going to guess at its core it’s mostly anger that something of his was taken from him.  He only talks about her in a sense of outrage that Colm killed her, not the grief for her as a person.  Contrast that to Hosea’s very real grief for Bessie.)To the first Nonny, I think you’re right.  I never would say Dutch is all a cynical act.  He does like and care about these people.  He’s taken them in when they’ve been lost souls and given them a family, and yes, there’s certainly an angle of self-interest in preying on their vulnerability–the ones he finds as kids are particularly painful–but it’s clear he also enjoys these people.  He likes them.  He’s not just seeing them as little toy soldiers who he has to fool by playing nice so he can use them.The trouble with Dutch is, as you say, when the good times are good, his better nature is there.  He can be kind, generous, funny, and it’s easier to downplay the darkest part of the reality, that he’s a silver-tongued egomaniac who’s drawn all these people together into an anarchosocialist cult with him as their godhead.  But there’s room for kindness.  There’s room for affection and pride.  There’s room for him to see Hosea as (almost) his equal and treat him and his opinion with great respect.  Though the fact that it’s very definitively the Van Der Linde Gang, not the Van Der Linde/Matthews Gang, makes it clear that Hosea may be a brother, but definitely subordinate.  There were other outlaw gangs with a more equal partnership definitely noted: the James/Younger Gang, for example, or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid getting equal billing in the Hole In The Wall Gang.  In this case, Hosea’s the quieter junior partner, and even he eventually observes how he’s fallen under Dutch’s spell.Most violently oriented cults don’t hold together for years on end.  I think there’s a reason for that.  Technically the gang’s been in existence for at least 23 (?) years, since I believe Hosea’s news article details him and Dutch breaking out of prison in Ohio in 1876.  They found Arthur in 1877.  Hosea had Bessie, and it sounds like Susan is also an OG.  But that was that for a while, until they brought John into it in 1885.  That changed things again, but I’d argue that the early days of the gang were very different.  It was a small group: Dutch, Hosea, Bessie as Team Mom, Susan leaving her role as Dutch’s lover and becoming Team Spinster Aunt, Dutch’s current lover in any given year, Arthur growing into manhood and his role as Annoyed Older Brother, and John as Little Brother.  That small core family of two kids, two dads, one mom and one aunt (though Bessie sounds to have died before the gang really exploded in size) and one revolving-door girlfriend, seems to have been a fairly set dynamic until c. 1892 or 1893.  It sounds to have been fairly stable, tight-knit, warm and affectionate.  I suspect Arthur’s anxiety settled down when he saw that he’d always be treated and respected as the eldest son, and he and John were actually pretty close until John fucked up with Abigail.  The closest that anyone came to leaving was Arthur riding off for a few days every couple of months to  go see Eliza and Isaac.  This also sounds like the best days of the gang in terms of charity—that article from the bank robbery from the mid-late 1880s that’s clearly Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur happened, and they promptly went and were handing out money to the local poor people and basically being giddy Robin Hoods.  Arthur remembers when they used to help people.  These were the good days.  So in 1892/1893 you have Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, John, Susan, and Dutch’s Current Girlfriend (though I suspect nobody counts her that much since she’s prone to changing every couple of years).  I think Bessie is dead by this point since Hosea makes it sound like it happened before most of the gang members were there. So we’ll say this gang is effectively five people, with one more loosely attached honorary member.  Suddenly the gang population explodes.  It sounds like everyone else joined in the last six years prior to RDR2, probably many in the last two to three.  From Pearson’s pic of the stagecoach likely in 1895, given Abigail holding baby Jack, they had Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, Abigail, Susan, John, Pearson, and Bill, and we know Javier was part of it, Tilly sounds to have been.  That’s ten right there, maybe more.And I think that swapped the dynamic for Dutch too.  Suddenly they’re acquiring every stray, lost soul, and orphan in their path.  He’s not just the fond patriarch of a tight-knit family, he’s got to be the leader, the prophet, the Messiah of a Goddamned movement.  And I think that exacerbates his narcissism.  He has more people to look after, and more people to hold in his sway.  His personality becomes bigger.  His rhetoric and his plans become more grandiose.  He becomes more of the fire-and-brimstone street preacher.  The gang becomes less charitable, more insular, more we take care of our own first, because they’re becoming far more dangerously visible with the need to take care of ten, fifteen, twenty people, and the more constant stream of risk and crimes that comes with it. The population explosion pretty much doomed the gang, I think, because it pushed Dutch’s narcissism to deadly levels, and forced them to start taking on bigger and riskier crimes on a more regular basis.  By 1896 the clock was probably already ticking down, and the pressure of the next few years ratcheted that up until it finally explodes in the Blackwater Massacre and everything that happens after. So to backtrack: I think the Dutch that Hosea, Bessie, Susan, Arthur, and John knew from c. 1876 to 1893 was a proto-narcissist who would have looked out for ol’ Number 1 when pressed hard, yes, but the situation and dynamic they had was a lot more forgiving and brought out Dutch’s idealism, affection, and the like rather than his worst traits.  When the gang started getting bigger, he had more people to hold there, and more risk to keep it all together, the manipulation and grooming and gaslighting ratcheted up too because things had already subtly transformed and started to turn.  You can see some of it in Chapters 1-4 with things like him insisting Arthur will betray him and telling Hosea he needs FAITH NOT DOUBTERS but yeah, it’s really Chapters 5 and 6 that show it.  Missing Hosea’s restraint and with Arthur as the son being unable to take the role of the brother, and with the likelihood of Traumatic Brain Injury/TBI to boot, there was no other way it could have ended, because those were the final nails in the coffin.  But I don’t think it was all Hosea and TBI. The seeds of everyone’s destruction were there long, long before.  I don’t think Dutch is this cynical mastermind and that everything is a deliberate act, mind.  Both those who say that Dutch changed (Sadie, Charles) and those who say he became who he always was (John, Arthur) are right.  He changed and became his true and worst self, and I’m not sure even he fully realized how much he’d been keeping at bay in a far more forgiving situation that let him be his best self.  

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 17

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

A COUPLE HOURS LATER

SHADY BELLE

Practically leaning my entire body against Eddie due to fatigue, the boy hurriedly rode through the thick woods surrounding Shady Belle as we approached the abandoned mansion, instantly catching the attention of the guards.

Things seemed peaceful enough ‘round here, and it didn’t look like Atticus had reached the camp yet which was a huge relief considerin’ the shit Eddie and I just went through with the O’Driscolls. Though, that only made me wonder whether it was because they didn’t know our location, or because they was simply bidin’ their time. I supposed we would see soon enough.

Slowin’ down to a halt, Eddie transitioned into a steady trot as we got closer to the camp’s entrance, causin’ someone to block our path. It was John.

“Who goes there?” He called out, readying his rifle.

“Relax, Marston!” I replied, my voice a lot more hoarse than normal. “It’s me, Arthur.” I gestured to Eddie. “Don’t worry ‘bout him. He’s a friend. He means no harm.”

John took a better look at me, his eyes widening in concern once he noticed my wounds.

“Jesus...!” He exclaimed. “The hell happened to you out there, Arthur?”

“I’ll explain later...” I slurred out, struggling to keep myself upright. “Right now, I just need to speak with Dutch. Y’know where he is?”

Marston pointed to the mansion. “I think he’s in there with Hosea. He’ll wanna see you. You’ve been gone for quite a while. But...what about your friend?”

I held back a pained groan. “Like I said...he can be trusted. He won’t breathe a word about this place to no one. I wouldn’t have brought him here if I thought otherwise.”

He still appeared somewhat hesitant, but allowed him inside anyway. “Well...if you’re sure. Just keep an eye on him. Folk ain’t gonna be happy you brought a stranger to us.”

I nodded, holding onto Eddie as he took us into the camp. “I know...I know.”

Proceeding through the barricades, the pianist hitched his horse just outside the entrance and helped me down as the gang slowly gathered around us, all of ‘em curious to see what was goin’ on while Eddie guided me to the mansion.

From all different directions, I could hear the other members murmurin’ to each other in both relief and alarm as they speculated about the situation, skeptical to trust the new face I had brought along with me.

“...Is that Arthur?” Mary-Beth asked, pokin’ her head above Charles’ shoulder. “Has he come back?”

“Looks like it,” the man replied in a stoic tone. “He’s not alone though.”

Micah let out an annoyed yet somehow amused scoff, casually sharpening his knife. “Pfft. Leave it to Morgan to make a grand entrance like this.” He raised his voice slightly. “Welcome home, Arthur! I’m sure things’ll be just fine now that you’re here.”

I threw a glare at him, doin’ my best to keep up with Eddie’s pace. “Shut your mouth, Micah.”

He grinned. “A gentleman as always, my brother.”

Sadie jumped in, both her and Pearson’s eyes nailed onto me as the pianist was forced to come to a stop with how many people was surrounding us.

“Arthur!” She greeted, her brow furrowed in anxiety. “Goddamn, what happened to you? Was it them Pinkertons?”

I shook my head, growing weaker by the second. “...No.”

A sense of anger ignited her already wild eyes. “Well, whoever it was, they’re gonna have hell to pay.” Sadie turned to Pearson. “Don’t just stand there! Get him somethin’ to eat, for God��s sake. The man looks dead!”

The chef complied, briefly acknowledging me before taking his leave. “Right, of course. Mister Morgan.”

“Pearson.” I said back.

Bill and Javier hopped in the minute Pearson left, bombarding me with even more questions.

“Well, you’ve seen better days, amigo.” The latter remarked.

I let out a frail chuckle. “I’ve also seen worse.”

“Who even did this to you?” Bill asked.

“And more importantly, did they follow you?” Javier added.

Again, I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. We didn’t see anybody on our trail.”

“Yeah,” Bill commented grumpily, “people like to make sure you don’t see them when they’re followin’ you, Arthur.”

I sighed. “I don’t have time for this, Williamson. I just need to speak with Dutch.”

A voice of pragmatism joined the conversation, breaking up all the commotion.

“Well, here I am.”

Pushing his way through the crowd with Hosea in tow, Dutch’s presence alone instantly caused the entire gang to fall silent as the two of them walked up to me, immediately recognizing the boy standing by my side.

Both of them looked distressed upon seeing my injuries -- Hosea especially -- but in Dutch’s face, I could also see a hint of anger and uncertainty. It was pretty damned obvious he didn’t approve of my bringin’ Eddie into the camp, and I didn’t blame him one bit for it.

I mean, here I was, lookin’ like a corpse come back to life with God-knows-what chasing me, and a man who was a stranger to most of the people in the camp. They didn’t know a damned thing about him, or the men who wanted him dead, and yet, I had allowed this boy to enter the heart of our operations. Not only that, but I had also possibly led Atticus and gang here, too.

Goddamn, I really was a fool. But I was a fool with no other choices.

Taking a step towards me, Dutch examined my burned and cut body, his brown eyes flicking up and down.

“Oh, my boy,” he said, “my dear boy...what happened to you? And why’ve you brought your friend here?”

“He saved me, Dutch,” I answered, my words almost incoherent at this point. “...He saved my life.”

The man glanced at Eddie. “Is that true?”

Eddie nodded, adjusting my arm around his shoulder as I hung like a noose. “Arthur was kidnapped,” he explained. “By the O’Driscolls. They were holding him in their camp. I got him out though.”

Dutch cursed. “Colm’s involved in this? Shit. I shoulda known.”

Hosea gave the boy a sincere expression of gratitude. “Well, you certainly have our thanks, young man. It was brave of you to do that.”

“Indeed,” Dutch agreed, “but I hope you don’t mind, Arthur, I’m still gonna have someone keep an eye on your friend here.” He turned to a random member. “Micah?”

I mentally groaned to myself. Out of all people...

“Sure thing,” Micah said, moseying on up to the boy. “Don’t you worry, Arthur. I’ll take good care of him.”

I glowered at the sleazy man. “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

Dutch promptly took Eddie’s place and allowed me to lean on him, sensing the growing tension between me and Micah.

“In the meantime...” he continued, “let’s you and I head inside, and you explain what all this is about.” He glanced at his friend. “Hosea? Come with us, would you?”

The older man rushed over. “Of course.”

Helpin’ me inside the mansion, Dutch and Hosea guided me through the front doors while the rest of the gang stayed behind, all of ‘em watching with a newfound curiosity.

I didn’t much like the idea of leavin’ Eddie alone in a camp full of outlaws -- especially not when Micah was the one guardin’ him -- but I knew the kid could handle himself, and I trusted most of the people here to keep things civil. I only prayed I was right.

After all, folk here had been stressed recently, and Lord only knew what they went through while I was away. I doubted it would take much more to push ‘em over the edge, and the last person I wanted them to be takin’ out their anger on was Eddie.

Jesus. I really hoped I did the right thing, bringing him here. He was a fish outta water among us criminals, and if somethin’ were to go south, Eddie didn’t exactly have any other places to hide. This was his only viable option at the moment, and Atticus already had his men crawlin’ all over the wilds. If he went back out there, he would get killed.

I supposed our only choice now was making things work...no matter how hard it would be.

Assisting me to the closest couch, Dutch plopped me down on the cushioned piece of furniture as I sighed in relief, finally able to relax a little ever since escapin’ from Colm’s camp.

After endurin’ the kidnapping, the beating, the shooting, and the longest goddamned ride of my life...honestly, I could’ve fallen asleep standing up. But I had to discuss things with Dutch and Hosea first, and hopefully, if I got lucky, convince him to let Eddie stay.

Dutch examined my broken body, the more vengeful side of him comin’ out as he looked to me for answers.

“Now...you mind tellin’ me just what the hell is going on? How did Colm find you?”

I clutched my wound, tryin’ to keep myself from keeling over. “He weren’t alone. Colm’s teamed up with another gang, Dutch. The same gang that wants Eddie dead. They was plannin’ to use me as bait to lure him in.”

Dutch glanced outside. “Eddie. That’s the boy you brought with you?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Eddie Ryan. You met him briefly at that gala a while ago. The people who sent them assassins after him -- they’re finally here. And they’re doin’ everything within their power to kill him.”

Hosea raised another question. “And who are ‘they,’ exactly?”

I coughed a few times, suddenly feelin’ extremely parched. “...Atticus Rose. That’s the gang’s leader.”

A sense of familiarity twinkled in the old man’s eyes. “Atticus Rose?”

I perked my head up. “You know him?”

“Not personally,” Hosea replied, “but back in the days of the Wild West, stories about him used to circulate, especially around New Austin. They say he’s an extremely skilled gunslinger. Was raised by the very same outlaws that killed his parents. And once he was old enough, Atticus killed the ones responsible in return. Formed the survivors into his own gang. Though...like I mentioned before, these are just stories. They’re probably more mythical than factual. Most-likely nothing more than tales created by outlaws to scare civilization from spreading to the west.”

I leaned against the back of the couch. “Well, I can assure you: he’s very real. And he wants Eddie dead.”

Dutch gave me a stern glare, gesturing to the mansion around us.

“...And so you bring the boy into our home? Into our sanctuary...?! Even knowing who’s after him?”

A pang of guilt hit me. “I know, Dutch. I know. It’s dangerous, and it’s risky...and I’m sorry for doin’ it...but that boy ain’t got nowhere else to go. They’ve surrounded his house, and they’re searchin’ all over the wilderness for any signs of him. Eddie may be tougher than he looks, but even he can’t go against that many men. He’ll be killed out there.”

Dutch sighed in frustration, unconvinced. “Well, like I said before, Arthur, we can’t afford taking a risk like this! We don’t have the time or the resources!”

“Eddie could be of use to us, Dutch,” I assured. “He’s a good shot, and he’s lived in Saint Denis for years now. He knows that city better than any of us combined. We’ll need that knowledge if we’re still plannin’ to hit that bank. And most importantly...Eddie’s loyal. He’s got no reason to turn his back on us, and he trusts me. We’re the only option he has left. He won’t give us away.”

Dutch’s mind still wasn’t swayed.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but we got our own enemies. Our own battles. Our own problems! And that boy ain’t one of them!”

Hosea joined in, voicing his own opinion.

“He is now.”

Dutch suddenly cocked his head towards him, clearly upset about the situation.

“Hosea, we can’t--”

“--You would’ve done the same for Annabelle!” The older man fired back, almost looking disappointed in his brother. “And I would’ve done the same for Bessie. Arthur’s right. This is a dangerous move, and it is risky...but that don’t matter. People like Eddie are the reason we started this gang, Dutch. You’ve said it yourself: we shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feed ‘em as need feeding. We aren’t perfect, but we can protect the people we love. ...I say the boy stays.”

Making his position clear, Hosea went quiet after that and took a moment to calm himself, causin’ Dutch to glance back and forth between the two of us as he made a decision, obviously torn by the dilemma.

He didn’t look as eager to take Eddie in as he did when we sheltered Mac, or Jenny, or even Sadie, but I could tell some part o’ him still cared, and he knew how much that kid meant to me.

At the same time though, none of us could ignore the threat of the Pinkertons closin’ in on us more and more with every passing day. Agent Milton had already found us twice, and there was no tellin’ how many more of them was watching our every move.

Having to worry about them as well as Atticus and his gang...it was gonna stretch us thin. It was gonna make the tensions in camp escalate even higher, and there was also the fact that I didn’t know how the rest of the gang would accept Eddie. If they’d accept him at all.

It was a choice that was gonna end up dividing us one way or another, but all I wanted was to keep the boy safe. That was it.

Rubbing his chin in thought, Dutch turned back to me and took a breath, his eyes narrowed in skepticism as he pondered the decision.

“...You really care about this boy?” He asked. I gave him a sincere look.

“I do.”

“And you think he’s worth it?”

Again, my answer was the same.

“...I do.”

Dutch took the response to heart, appearing to have finally changed his mind as he peered through the mansion’s windows, examining Eddie for a second before announcing his conclusion.

It was pretty evident he didn’t think much of the boy, and he had a hard time seein’ the same things Hosea and I saw in him, but deep down, I could tell he was still hurting from losin’ Annabelle. He understood more than anyone how hard it was to lose a loved one, and despite how much we may have argued recently, Dutch didn’t want the same thing to happen a third time.

He let out a reluctant sigh, seemingly willing to give Eddie a chance at least.

“...Very well,” he agreed. “If both of you think this man has a place here...then I suppose we can keep him around for a while. Least until he sorts things out.”

I looked up at him with a hopeful gaze. “So you’re lettin’ him stay?”

Dutch nodded, resting his hands on his hips. “Yes. Mister Ryan...is now part of the gang.”

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 15

This story is also on AO3 

Previous chapter

From Arthur’s POV

ONE MONTH LATER

RYAN RESIDENCE, SAINT DENIS

Eddie and I trotted underneath the calm night sky, steadily making our way back to the pianist’s house as the rest of the city dimmed down with the fading of the sun.

By now, the boy and I had been ridin’ all over this country for the past few weeks -- bounty hunting, moving from town to town, hidin’ from Rose’s men -- and strangely enough...part of me was sad that it was all finally coming to an end, despite the danger we were in.

Spending time with that kid...it made me feel free. Made me feel like I didn’t have a single, goddamned worry in the world. And somethin’ about him just gave me the courage to step outta this angry, spiteful shell I had created. I mean, I was still grumpy...but at least when I was with Eddie, I knew that weren’t all there was to me.

As much as I enjoyed bein’ around the musician though, I figured I had dragged him across the wilds for long enough and that it was time to bring the boy home, now that things had calmed down in Saint Denis.

Neither of us had set foot anywhere near the city ever since that god-awful shootout, and it looked like Dutch had also kept his distance from the “civilized” land, allowing the local law to lower their guard a bit. And on top of that, I didn’t see any sign of Atticus or his men, which meant they had probably given up their search in this part of Lemoyne.

Eddie should’ve been safe for the time being, and I certainly prayed I was right.

Hitching our horses outside the property’s fence, I walked the pianist to the front door as the both of us stretched our arms and neck, stiff from the long ride home.

It had been quite a while since I last saw this house, and the minute I laid eyes upon it, memories started flooding my head like a wave on the shore.

I remembered the first day I met Eddie; when he asked me to come to his house to hear one of his compositions. Life seemed so much simpler back then, and part o’ me still couldn’t believe how much we had been through since those days.

Dealin’ with Middleton, surviving Rose’s assassins, hunting the Arlington Twins and Archibald Hill -- Eddie and I truly were almost unstoppable when working together. I mean, sure, the kid might not’ve been as good a gunslinger as Dutch, or Hosea, or even me...but he sure as hell had learned a lot since our first encounter. And I...I was proud of him. Extremely proud.

“Welp, here we are,” I said, gently holding Eddie’s hand as we walked through the front door. “Home sweet home.”

The pianist let out a content sigh and took his hat off, placing it on a nearby end table as he settled in.

“Never thought I’d say it, but...I missed Saint Denis. It’ll be nice to sleep in an actual bed again. I’m exhausted.”

I laughed at that. “I bet.”

Eddie gazed at me and beamed brightly, bringing out the soft-hearted side of him I had grown so familiar with.

“Thank you for all your help these past few weeks, Arthur. You didn’t have to stay and help me survive out there...but you did. I won’t forget it.”

I shrugged, holding up a casual hand. “Ah, don’t mention it. Least I could do. ...You, um...you gonna be okay by yourself? I mean, I know things have calmed down here, but still, you never know.”

The boy slipped off his coat and threw it over a couch. “I should be alright. You’ve shown me how to defend myself, after all. And if anything does happen, I promise you’ll be the first one to know.”

“Good,” I said. “Just...stay alert, okay? And be well.”

“The same goes for you,” Eddie replied. “I can’t imagine running with a gang is anywhere near secure. So, stay safe.”

I let out a quiet chuckle. “Ain’t no such thing as safe out there, but I’ll do my best.”

A doubtful thought suddenly popped up in my mind, and I gazed at  Eddie for a moment before workin’ up the courage to ask him about it.

“...You...sure you’re okay with me bein’ an outlaw?” I checked. He crossed his arms.

“Well...I wouldn’t say I’m okay with it,” he admitted. “But if you’ve been an outlaw for this long, I assume it’s because you have no choice.”

I nodded somberly. “And you’d be correct. For now, anyway. I ain’t really got any other options at the moment.”

The boy didn’t seem bothered. “Well then, you do what you have to do.”

I was quiet in response, leading Eddie to cock his head at me as he effortlessly pulled out any secrets I was hidin’ behind my stone-cold expression.

“...You don’t believe me.” He concluded.

I threw a limp hand in the air, patting my lap once it fell back down.

“There you go again. Readin’ me like a goddamned book.”

Eddie giggled and took a few steps forward, affectionately rubbing the side of my arm.

“You should know it’s pointless to keep things from me by now, Arthur. What’s on your mind?”

A conflicted sigh escaped me.

“It’s just...” I glanced around the house in uncertainty, “...you ain’t the first person I been with, Eddie. Ain’t the first person to learn about all...this. See... there was this girl a long time ago that I loved. Her name was Mary. I met her when I was young and stupid -- I’m still stupid now, mind you -- but she played me for a fiddle like no one else alive. We was even engaged at one point.”

Eddie glanced at my ringless finger, a look of sorrow spreading across his face.

“Was?”

I clenched my jaw, trying not to open up too much.

“...Her daddy found out I was an outlaw,” I explained. “Learned about the kinda life I had. About what I did...and he hated it. Hated me even more. Eventually, we...called off the engagement, and Mary went off and settled down with some other man.”

The boy frowned out of sympathy. “I mean...I’m glad you’re with me now, but I’m also sorry you had to go through that.”

I shook it off. “Nah, don’t be. Like I said -- it was a long time ago. I guess...I’m just surprised you didn’t take off like she did when you found out I was workin’ with Dutch goddamn Van der Linde. That’s usually the response I get.”

Eddie almost looked insulted. “What-- you really thought I was just going to...abandon you? Because of that?”

“Wouldn’t blame you.”

The pianist grabbed my hand, holding it in a reassuring manner.

“Arthur...I may not approve of what you do, or the way you’ve hurt people, but you are a good man. In your own, twisted way. In fact, you’re the last person I’d want to leave behind, and you’re fooling yourself if you think I ever will.”

I fell silent, admittedly a bit surprised at the response. I was expectin’ Eddie to be at least a little dubious about our relationship, considering I was a wanted man in more states than I could count, but the man seemed adamant in his decision to stay with me. And I loved him even more for it.

I lightened my tone slightly and gripped Eddie’s hand in return, saying a final goodbye to him before taking my leave.

“...Thank you, Eddie,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “I still doubt I’m a good man like you claim, but...I must’ve done somethin’ right to end up with you. Well, anyway, I’ll let you get some sleep. I know you’re tired, and you got a lot to attend to. Just be careful, okay? And come to me if you ever need anything.”

The boy’s smile came back. “I will. But you have to take care of yourself, too.” He pecked a tender kiss on my lips. “Goodnight, Arthur. I hope our paths cross again soon. I’d love to explore the wilds with you sometime.”

I chuckled, heading towards the front door. “You just can’t get enough of the country, can you?”

He shook his head and stayed in the doorway, waving a friendly goodbye as I stepped back out into the cool, dark night.

“Nope. And thanks to you, I probably never will.”

A WHILE LATER

KAMASSA RIVER

Relaxing by the river with my horse, I made no haste to get back to camp as the moon slowly sank its way under the thin clouds, casting a pale but somehow pretty light across the fields surrounding me.

There were only a few hours left until morning, and if I timed this right, I was hopin’ to get back to Shady Belle somewhere close to dawn. I didn’t wanna go galloping into camp in the middle of the night, but I also didn’t wanna deal with the gang when everybody was awake.

For some reason, the people there always seemed to end up roamin’ towards me one way or another, and the last thing I wanted was to be greeted with Swanson’s drunken ramblings, or one of Micah’s attempts at being “friendly.”

I honestly liked Micah even less when he was nice.

Dipping my hand into the river, I cupped some cool water in my palm and washed the grime off my face, suddenly feelin’ much more refreshed at the sensation.

It had been a long time since I was last in the wilderness all by myself, and as much as I missed Eddie’s company already, I couldn’t deny that I appreciated the solitude. Somethin’ about being alone with no one else but my horse just gave me peace of mind, and the longer I lingered here, the less I wanted to return to camp.

Though, I had to confess: I did miss Dutch and Hosea a little. Even if we didn’t always see eye-to-eye. They were like fathers to me, after all. Despite how much we argued sometimes.

Sure, Dutch had been actin’ a bit crazy recently, and things only seemed to be getting worse between him and Hosea...but in the end, we was family. We was a team. There was a strange, deformed love holdin’ us reprobates together, and I just hoped that our escape from the Pinkertons and civilization wouldn’t tear that apart.

I supposed only time would tell.

Standing up from the ground, I wiped the water off my hands and prepared to mount up, only to freeze mid-action when the sound of someone cocking a gun reached my ears.

A familiar, raspy voice greeted me from behind, sending chills down my spine.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, Arthur Morgan,” they growled. “Wanna take a midnight stroll with me?”

Raising my hands in the air, I moved at the speed of a sloth and hesitantly glanced over my shoulder, peering at the face behind the gun as my heart came to a halt.

“...Colm O’Driscoll?” I muttered. “The hell you doin’ out here?”

Before he could respond, my horse started to whinny nervously as a second pair of footsteps emerged from the shadows, their shoes crunching the grass underneath them as a man whom I’d never seen before came into view.

I flicked my eyes to the side, absolutely perplexed by this new face.

This son-of-a-bitch had to be one of the craziest lookin’ fellers I’d ever seen in my life...and that was sayin’ something.

This man had skin so pale to the point where he looked sickly, and it only made the balding red hair on his head stand out even more. He had clearly made some sad attempt to slick it back and tidy it up, but regardless, multiple strands refused to stay in place and stuck out in wild angles, adding to his insane temperament.

Despite his messy hair however, the man actually had quite a groomed beard and wore a black, three-piece suit along with a golden chain hangin’ off the vest...but his clothes didn’t match any of the O’Driscolls I’d seen.

The part about him that really caught my attention though, was the old wound on his face. There was a ghastly scar tearin’ straight through his right eye, forcing it closed and rendering the poor bastard half-blind. Meanwhile, the other one was surrounded by dark circles and crow’s feet, enhancing the nightmarish grin he sported as he examined me.

Just who the hell was this maniac?

“Sorry, partner,” he apologized insincerely, sounding lazy but surprisingly articulate. “I hate to bring weapons to a...civilized discussion, but I hear you aren’t the type to cooperate.”

I scoffed, holding my ground. “Most people aren’t when you aim a gun at their head.”

He chuckled. “True enough. But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep those guns up...just as a precaution.”

“And who are you?” I asked, my eyes following his every move. “You an O’Driscoll?”

The man shook his head. “Nah...not an O’Driscoll. Though, truth be told, my name don’t matter much, anyway. Usually, it’s the scars people remember me by.”

I gestured to the faded gash. “How’d you get ‘em?”

He paused for a second, seemingly puzzled by my question as he tilted his head in confusion.

After a moment of thinking though, the man let out an abrupt laugh once it clicked and grinned even wider in realization.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about my scars...” he corrected, pointing a finger at me. 

His expression sparked with a wicked excitement.

“...I was talking about yours.”

Giving me no time to react, Colm suddenly bashed the grip of his revolver into the back of my head and knocked me out cold, causin’ the world around me to go dark as a hoarse chortle escaped him and my vision doubled.

There was no one around to help me right now, and before I could do anything to fight back, I could already feel the roughness of a rope wrapping itself around my wrists and ankles.

Shit. What the hell had I gotten myself into now?

The two bastards lifted me onto another horse, mounting up as they carried me away to wherever they pleased.

“...You’re ours now, Morgan,” Colm whispered in my ear, his voice echoing in my head as he watched me slip out of consciousness. “And ain’t no one savin’ you this time...”

From Eddie’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

Pouring myself a cup of fresh coffee, I took the warm mug into my hands and sat down in the living room, quietly reading the newspaper as I prepared for the day ahead.

I couldn’t lie. It felt strange not waking up on the ground with Bullet drooling above me, and it felt even stranger to not have Arthur by my side.

I had spent so long traveling with that mysterious man by now that, I actually considered it a privilege to sleep in the same place I woke up in. And I had only been doing this for a month or so. I couldn’t imagine how he felt.

Still, it was nice to be back in the heart of civilization again, despite all the bad memories stalking me here. I doubted I’d be able to revive my career as a performer at the Râleur again, considering how erratic my schedule had become, but there had to be some work for me around town.

I recalled the bartender at the Bastille saying they needed a new pianist, and with my newfound “gunslinging” skills, perhaps there was a chance I could also hunt down a bounty on my own. Though, I had to admit, that wasn’t my first option. I wasn’t nearly as experienced as Arthur, and I didn’t want to get myself killed chasing after a handful of money.

I guessed the Bastille would have to do for now.

Finishing my coffee, I put the mug down and wandered over to the coat rack, preparing to leave. If there was an opportunity for me to get a new job, I wanted to seize it as soon as possible. There were only so many outlaws I could chase if I needed extra money, and as much as I enjoyed the spontaneous nature of the wilderness, I couldn’t deny that stability offered much more comfort. And at the moment, that was what I needed.

Swinging the front door open, I headed out into the crisp morning weather as Bullet greeted me with a welcoming neigh, his tone oddly a tad more agitated than usual. I supposed I wasn’t the only one struggling to adjust to city life.

Just as I began to descend the porch’s steps however, I was presented with a peculiar scene and noticed a lone hat sitting on the ground...just waiting for me to find it.

The hat looked like someone had intentionally positioned it there, and the longer I stared at it, the more my blood turned to ice as I realized who it belonged to.

...Arthur.

Gulping out of fear, I cautiously knelt down and picked up the item, revealing a torn note lying underneath. It didn’t resemble Arthur’s handwriting -- at least, compared to what I saw on his portrait of me -- and there was an unnerving set of initials scribbled at the bottom. No immediate names jumped to mind at the sight of them, but something about the way they were written, and the distant bells they rang in my head just...made me feel uneasy.

I brought the note into my grasp, reading the short message that had been inked onto the surface:

“Come to Caliban’s Seat within twenty-four hours, or next time, I’ll be delivering his head. Hope to see you there, Theodore. -RK”

I froze out of terror, unable to stop myself from shivering like a puppy in the rain as my heart stopped beating altogether.

The only people who called me Theodore were the ones trying to kill me. And the only person I could think of who had those initials...was Rodrick Kingsley. One of Atticus Rose’s most valued gang members.

Despite being nothing but a group of sick, rotten degenerates, Atticus and his men were the equivalent of a dysfunctional family that, for some reason, just couldn’t rip itself apart. They always had each other’s backs and yet, they were also one argument away from stabbing them.

I had seen how much faith Atticus put into his gang...and I had seen just how close they really were.

If Rodrick was here, that meant Atticus was with him.

And they were going to kill Arthur.

[unofferable-fic]

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 2 - Enter, Pursued By Pháistí

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they’ve made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

Originally found here

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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 6,370

Previous Chapter    Next Chapter

Playlist: “Wisconsin” — Bon Iver, “Wandering” — Gustavo Santaolalla, “It Will Come Back” — Hozier

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A/N: Also available on AO3. Chapter two comin’ at y’all.

This was not the expected outcome that Maebh had prepared herself for when planning the robbery. To her, there were only two outcomes really — get away with the money or die trying. The secret third option to join a stranger’s gang was a surprise, but perhaps a welcome one. How she found herself and her brother standing in a field with four other outlaws was beyond her…

“You want two kids to join your gang?” she asked Dutch van der Linde with her brow raised.

The well-dressed man let out a chuckle. “Why, Arthur here joined when he was a teenager, and John joined when he was only twelve years old. Regardless of your age, you both know how to handle yourselves, and you can only learn and improve as you get older. These boys are a testament to that fact.”

Maebh gave said men a once over. Arthur, clearly the older of the pair, definitely gave the impression of a brooding tough guy. He didn’t seem like someone with whom you’d want to get into a bar fight. His large hands presumably packed a punch, and judging by the scars on his chin and nose and the glint in his eye, he had no problem putting himself in the thick of it if needs be. That being said, she couldn’t get a really good look at him with that hat on his head. And yet, there was something oddly tranquil and thoughtful about him, much like the calm before a storm.

John, by his appearance, general mannerisms, and inability to enter a stressful situation without shouting or cursing, was clearly younger. She pegged that he was closer in age to her and William than Arthur, but he was no less moody. Their original interaction was enough to know that he was a hotheaded youngster with something to prove to his gang members. When it came to his physical appearance, his youthful face was somewhat hidden behind greasy black locks of hair but he seemed to wear none of the battle wounds that Arthur did with his years of experience.

“My dear,” Dutch continued on. “This offer is not only beneficial for us, but by the sounds of things, you and your brother don’t have many places to go or many options to choose from. Now, what we are offerin’ is not only a home and a team to look out for you, but a chance to live free from the influence of civilisation. An opportunity to improve your body and mind, and help those less fortunate while you’re at it. All you gotta do is earn your keep — do chores, help out at camp, and partake in the odd robbery or con.”

There was a brief silence that hung on the air, each cowboy awaiting some sort of response. She could feel William’s eyes on her, and she wanted a chance to hear what he thought before making any promises.

“If it’s alright with you,” she began, looking at the leader. “I think we want to chat about it first before makin’ any decisions.”

He nodded, though not unkindly. He slowly dismounted from his horse and signalled for his gang members to follow suit. “O’course! Take a moment if you need it, and I’ll chat with my friends while you do.”

She thanked him before turning to her brother, who gave her a nod off to the side and muttered. “Tar anseo.”

She followed him happily, sticking close as he strode away from the gang, leaving the two groups a respectful distance apart. Thinking it would be wise to do so, the pair of them spoke in their native tongue while standing closely together.

“Cad a cheapann tú foai seo?” she asked without hesitation. What’re you thinkin’?

He shrugged, responding in Irish. “I think we’re in a similar situation to the stagecoach from earlier. Either we go it alone at a big disadvantage or we try to team up with them lot, I guess.”

“They are offerin’ hot food and beds,” she added. “And I’d kill for somethin’ like that.”

“Not to mention safety.” He paused uncertainly and threw the men a glance. “After what we did, this might be a good idea. We’re still wanted ’round here so I’m thinkin’ safety in numbers might be our best bet.”

“You’re right about that anyway. But what about them; how do you feel ’bout them?”

“I think they’re grand for the most part. The young fella seems a bit thick but he could be worse. Your man Dutch seems like the good sort — he had an opportunity to rob us and didn’t. He could’ve left us on the roadside but he didn’t. He’s got some… interestin’ ideologies, but I can’t say I don’t agree with them. The government’s done us no favours.” He lowered his voice and leaned in closer, his eyes looking a little worrisome in the dimming light. “They’re gonna catch us eventually if it’s just me and you, Maebh. This might be our chance to get away from it all.”

“I think you’re right,” she agreed. “I suppose as Dutch said, it’s better if outlaws stick together. Plus, if we aren’t feelin’ them, we can always leave.”

“Good point.” William let out a sigh, clapped his hands together, and returned to speaking in English. “Right, sure fuck it. We’d like to take you up on that offer, Mr Van der Linde.”

Dutch let out a laugh and gave Hosea a look. “Now what I tell ya? These are some smart kids we have found, gentlemen. They will make fine additions! It is good to have you onboard.”

“Thanks for havin’ us, Mister,” Maebh replied gratefully. “Now, where to exactly?”

“Back to your new camp, o’course. John, Arthur, would you be so kind as to offer these two a spot on your horses.” As John let out a grumble, Dutch gave him a look. “Hey now, son, make friends. They’re certainly closer in age to you than we are.”

“How old are you two, actually?” Arthur asked as he once more offered Maebh a hand on to the back of  his horse.

“I’m sixteen,” she replied, sat herself behind him, and hung on to his broad shoulders. She threw a nod in her brother’s direction as John hoisted him up. “And he’s fifteen.”

“You really do pick ’em up young, Dutch,” Hosea chuckled as the four of them set off in a canter. “But you’re right — they can certainly handle themselves.”

“That they can, and I’m sure they too wish to live free in this here fine land, away from all that civilisation. Young or old, their ideals are in the right place.”

“How old were you when you joined?” Maebh asked Arthur as the others settled into some conversation about where the camp was located.

He hesitated, probably realising she was addressing him, and cleared his throat. “Fifteen or fourteen, there abouts anyways…”

“So basically our age, then.”

“I guess so.”

The group descended into casual conversation as they rode to the Van der Linde gang campsite. Along the journey, the sun had set on the horizon and plunged the land into darkness save for the light of the full moon. Maebh watched intently as the horses were steered on to a small dirt path and through a group of dense trees. As they breached the other side, she first set eyes on the camp. Their new home.

It looked quite small, but she didn’t mind that. If anything, she preferred it to something larger or overcrowded. The camp was illuminated in the darkness by some lamps and a campfire where a few people sat with drinks in their hands. A number of tents stood grouped together, some larger and more ostentatious that others, in the centre of which stood a larger wagon that contained a number of provisions and food. Under one of its canopies she spotted a large man chopping away at cuts of meat. A few other wagons were set up not far away — one joined to a bed and canopy seemed to contain ammunition, while another standing on its own housed a few medical supplies. Off to the side in a patch of grass, horses stood grazing in the warm night air. At the sight of the group’s return, the gang members stood up from the fire and came to greet them. Maebh spotted two women and another older man, excluding the one who remained by the food wagon.

“Hey! Welcome back, fellers!” the older man announced, waving a bottle of beer in his hand as he jaunted over to them. “Did you get the money?”

“More importantly,” one of the women began, throwing the man a frown. “Is everyone alright?”

“To answer your question, my dear, Bessie,” Hosea began as he dismounted his horse. “Everyone is fine. And to answer your question, Uncle, no we did not.”

The trio looked stumped. “You didn’t?”

“No.” Hosea pointed to William and Maebh. “They did.”

For the first time that night, the other members of the Van der Linde gang laid eyes on the siblings, having not even noticed their presence. Maebh chose to give them a simple nod without speaking a word. She got off the horse as Arthur did and stood by her younger brother’s side. Arthur and John lead the four horses to the rest of their animals before rejoining the group.

Trying to show William some reassurance, she gently bumped her shoulder against his as Dutch made the grand introduction. “My friends, I’m pleased to introduce you to the newest and currently the youngest members of the Van der Linde gang. Meet Maebh and William Hennigan, Ireland’s finest thieves.”

“You two robbed the stagecoach?” the other unnamed woman asked, her lips parted with curiosity.

“You four were beaten to the take by two kids?” the older man — Uncle — asked before bursting out into a fit of semi-drunken laughter. “You gotta be kiddin’ me! Fearsome outlaws from the West, beaten to the gold by kids from the East!”

“Yes, Uncle,” Dutch agreed. “We were beaten to it by some ‘kids’, but these kids managed to rob a guarded stagecoach without any assistance, so I wouldn’t go makin’ assumptions about their abilities.”

“Oh, trust me, I ain’t. I just get a good ol’ chuckle knowin’ what you stumbled across when you expected a box of money. I wish I could see the look on your faces.”

“I’m sure, I’m sure. Now, kids, introductions for you two. These two fine ladies are Susan Grimshaw and Bessie Matthews, and as you heard this… gentleman is Uncle.”

“Is he your uncle?” William asked, eying these new people up and down.

“Ah, no. He ain’t no one’s uncle here, but we call him that regardless.”

“How many feral children do you plan on bringin’ home, Mr Van der Linde?” the woman Dutch introduced as Susan Grimshaw asked, her hands propped on her hips. While the others seems amused with their arrival, she appeared more skeptical, much like Maebh and William were themselves.

“Only the ones that can handle themselves,” Dutch replied deviously before leaning down and kissing her cheek. “And I promise you, these two can.”

“But can they cook? Clean? Help run things ’round here? They look like can barely keep  themselves clean.”

“They’ve been livin’ rough lately, as far as I know.”

“We’ve no problem with chores, miss,” Maebh replied surely. “Cookin’ and cleanin’ aren’t a problem.”

“Good. Well the first thing you can do is clean yourselves up. I’ll fetch you some soap and clean towels, and then you can head on down stream a bit.”

As Miss Grimshaw left to get supplies, Dutch placed a hand on both of their shoulders. “While you two wash up, I’ll have a tent and fresh bedding set up for you. Mr Pearson should have some leftovers from dinner as well.”

Maebh and her brother expressed genuine thanks to the lot of them as Miss Grimshaw returned with their bathing supplies. She asked as to whether they had any clean clothes, but Maebh assured her that they had some spare ones in their bags. The gang left them to it, so the pair walked down the river until they were mostly out of sight. They took turns washing the grime and sweat of the day off their bodies, one in the river while the other stood on the bank and kept watch. After all, they still didn’t entirely trust these new people they just met today.

“What d’you think we’ll have to do ’bout the money?” William asked from his spot on the bank, his back to her while he fiddled with his hunting knife.

Maebh threw a glance at him as she scrubbed her hair. “From the stage?”

“Yeah. D’ya think we should give them some of it? We’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for them lads.”

“I mean you’re not wrong. We should probably give them some of it. Half, maybe? And then you and me split the other half?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” he agreed. “Are you done yet? I’m starvin’ after all that carry on.”

“Yeah, just gis a sec.”

Once she finished up, William threw her a towel and waited for her to dry herself and get changed into fresh clothes. They washed the dirty ones on the river’s edge together before returning to camp feeling a bit better after the messy day they’d had. They could feel some eyes on them as they returned, Maebh linking her arm into the crook of his while he carried their belongings. Upon seeing them approach, Miss Grimshaw called them over. She brought them to a decent tent set up not too far from what she assumed was Dutch’s. Inside, two bedrolls lay on the ground, with an oil lamp plopped nearby to give them some light. She was also surprised to see they had been gifted a little wooden chest to share.

“We set you two up here beside Mr Morgan and Mr Marston,” Miss Grimshaw explained. “I figured you might prefer to bunk together for the moment. You also have a chest for any belongin’s you might need to store.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Maebh said with a polite smile. “We appreciate this, honestly.”

“Well you can repay us by earnin’ your keep. Be up at dawn to help with the chores — there’s washin’ to be done, and Mr Pearson could do with some fresh meats brought to his wagon — if either of you are good with horses, they could do with some groomin’ and feedin’.”

William nodded, noting her very serious tone. Her eyes, decorated with dark makeup,  were full of fury hidden underneath an authoritative demeanour. Her messy bun only added to her confident appearance as the apparent arbiter. He got the feeling that she kept this place alive and she knew she did. She definitely wasn’t one for messing around, clearly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Any questions, just shout.” Without saying much else, Miss Grimshaw left them to their new lodgings.

“Well,” William began, giving his sister’s arm a squeeze. “Which side do you want, right or left?”

“Oh shut it,” Maebh laughed and gave him a soft shove. “It’s all the same to me.”

“Just makin’ sure,” he said with a grin and stowed their belongings in the chest as she hung their washed clothes above the tent to dry out. William took a seat on one of the bedrolls and gently ran his hand over the material. “I have’ta say, these feel much comfier than our ones.”

“At least that’s one plus to this new arrangement.” She took a seat next to him and sat akimbo. She let her gaze wander over the camp, feeling surprisingly comfortable in this new environment.

“What’re you thinkin’?” William asked, eying her curiously. “I can tell your mind is goin’ a mile a minute.”

“Just thinkin’ that I’m actually alright with all this,” she answered honestly. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m still wary of these people ’cause we don’t know ’em, but they don’t give me any bad vibes. They seem grand.”

“I understand, but always be on your toes, yeah?”

With a nod she let her head rest on his shoulder. “Of course. We’re in this together as always.”

While sitting in their new living space, Maebh glanced over to see a figure approaching them. She recognised it to be Mr Morgan, who carefully carried three bowls of food in his arms. He greeted them with a nod. “Thought you two could do with some food. It ain’t much — Pearson really don’t got the hang of usin’ seasonin’, but it’s better than nothin’.”

“Thanks, Mr Morgan,” she replied and took one of the bowls and spoons he offered. Inside was steaming hot beef stew. “That’s kind of you.”

“Call me Arthur,” he replied. “Ain’t no need for formalities with me. Mind if I join you?”

They signalled for him to take a seat on the ground, which he happily accepted. Considering he had appeared so gruff before, Maebh was somewhat surprised to see him making an effort to give them some company. Perhaps he knew the feeling from his own experiences as a kid and wished to ease their transition a little. Though she knew little of him, he seemed like a useful man to have on your side.

“You likin’ the new set up?” he asked, as he swallowed some stew.

“It’s grand yeah,” she replied as she too munched away. “And we appreciate the new belongin’s and all that.”

“We look out for each other in this gang,” he explained. “So don’t mention it. A word of advice though — do whatever Miss Grimshaw asks of you. You don’t wanna see her mean side.”

“We got that impression,” William added, enjoying his hot meal. “And I don’t fancy her givin’ me a smack. She looks like she packs a punch.”

“Oh, she definitely does, take my word for it.”

Seeing this as a chance to get some more information about their new gang mates, Maebh chose to see what Arthur could offer. “Is she Dutch’s wife?”

He shook his head. “Naw, but they’ve been together a while. He’s in charge of things for sure, but she likes to help organise and keep everyone in check.”

She glanced at the campfire where she spotted Hosea and Bessie sitting with John and Uncle. Only now had she gotten a chance to really study her. She could tell that they were together, just by their mannerisms alone, and had been so for a long time. Her shoulder-length hair was beginning to grey, and her face held the telltale signs of age with slight crinkles in the corners of her eyes. She had to admit, they made a good looking couple. “What about Bessie?”

“She’s Hosea’s wife,” Arthur explained. “They’ve been together a while and she’s a good woman. She wasn’t raised an outlaw like most of us, but she goes where Hosea goes. She helps out ’round camp too, mostly with the cleanin’ and breakin’ up fights. She’s clever, with an equally intelligent husband. Hosea is Dutch’s righthand man. Been runnin’ with him since the mid 70s. That man can talk his way into, or out of, just about anythin’. They’re quite a pair.” Arthur eat another spoonful of somewhat bland stew before continuing on his explanation of the group. “And John is still a kid. He’s only seventeen, but he thinks he knows everythin’. He’s an orphan too, but he’s been runnin’ with us for five years and he’s already the golden boy. Dutch taught him a lot of what he knows, so I guess he’s like a father to him. He’s a good kid though and some shot with a pistol.

“Pearson, the guy over by the food wagon, he’s the camp cook. Used to be a sailor so get ready to hear all about his adventures at sea… Shame they couldn’t teach him about herbs while on deck. And Uncle, well… Uncle is Uncle.”

Maebh blinked at him. “He’s what now?”

“Honestly?” Arthur asked, briefly meeting her eyes. “He barely does shit ’round here bar drinkin’ and laughin’. He’s good for findin’ leads sometimes, I guess. Only reason Dutch ain’t kicked him out yet is ’cause he finds him so entertainin’.”

“What a colourful bunch,”  William added as he quickly finished his meal.

“You two’ll fit right in,” Arthur offered. “Trust in Dutch and do what he wants. His word is usually the best one to go by.”

Mr Morgan remained with them for a little while longer before they decided to turn in for the night. He bid them a goodnight and headed back to his own tent. Maebh watched him sit on his bed and write into some sort of book for the rest of the evening before she felt exhaustion overcome her and the need for sleep was too much. She and William fell asleep to the crackling of a fire and the hushed laughter of their new apparent family.

* * *

9th June, 1890, outside Waukesha, Wisconsin

We picked up some new members after the stagecoach robbery. Two kids beat us to the take, and Dutch saw fit to bring them into the fold. Can’t say that I blame him for it, as they certainly seem like they can hold themselves no problem. A brother and sister, two apparent orphans from Ireland… Attached at the hip by the looks of things. Maebh is the eldest and William the youngest, though they seem fairly confident despite their youth. I’m sure John is just glad he’s no longer the youngest around.

It is a little unusual to have new recruits, but I trust Dutch with his decision to take them in. They could certainly be valuable to us all, and I can’t argue with that. Regardless, he hopes that the take will be split in half. One half goes to the gang, while the other goes to the kids to do with what they will. Dutch plans on showing them exactly what we do with a take this big and has asked me to join him for the long ride. Hopefully I can get a better idea of these two along the way, and hopefully it’ll settle whatever uncertainties they surely have about us.

* * *

The following morning, Maebh awoke at dawn. A gentle shake on the shoulder pulled her from sleep, and she opened her eyes to find William sitting up next to her.

“It’s dawn,” he explained with a yawn. “We should get up and movin’ before that Grimshaw woman skins us both.”

“Right,” she grumbled. “Okay, I’m up.”

It took her a couple of minutes to get moving and comfortable in her new surroundings. Once they were dressed, they looked around camp to see a that Miss Grimshaw was also getting up, as well as Hosea and Bessie.

“What jobs were there again?” she asked her brother. “Cleanin’? Feedin’ the horses?”

“And getting fresh food for Pearson too,” William added. “I can tend to the horses and get them fed and watered.”

She nodded and ran her eyes over the nearby Fox River. “Probably a good idea considerin’ how much you like horses. I’ll go with the fishin’ then. Pretty sure I can get some smallmouth or walleye outta there.”

“After that we should have a word with Dutch ’bout the money too.”

“Grand, yeah. I’ll see you in a bit. Shout if you need me.”

While William went off to attend to the gang’s horses, Maebh grabbed her fishing rod  and some bait out of the chest and went a short distance downstream. Finding a quiet spot overlooking the river that was still within the camp’s line of vision, she cast her rod into the water and waited. There was a light rain coming down that morning, which thankfully helped with her chances of catching some fish. As time slowly passed, she managed to catch a number of smallmouth bass to give to the camp cook. They put up a fight as always but she had years of experience to help with reeling them in. Once she managed to pull six decently sized bass from the water, she packed up and returned to camp. On her way, she passed by Susan Grimshaw as she grabbed some morning coffee, the older woman eying her curiously — she couldn’t tell whether it was with approval or uncertainty. Pressing onwards, Maebh carried her fresh catches over to Pearson’s wagon.

“Heard you needed some fresh food,” she announced as she reached him.

The man was hunched over a large pot with a thoughtful look on his chubby face. He looked confused for a moment before noticing the fish she was carrying, upon which, a grin formed beneath his thick moustache. “Ah, you must be the other new recruit I haven’t met! I already met your brother over there.” He offered her his hand. “Simon Pearson, camp cook.”

She accepted and shook it vigorously. “Maebh Hennigan, supplier of fish.”

“I can see that! Bring ’em here.”

She set them down on his table as he began to check them over. “Hopefully this is enough.”

“It’s more than enough. These are some decent smallmouth. You must be a fan of fishin’ by the looks of things.”

“It was one of my hobbies growin’ up. Need help skinnin’ and guttin’ ’em?”

He shrugged. “Sure, kid. Why not? Two pair o’hands is better than one.”

As Maebh attended to helping Pearson with prepping the fish, the rest of the gang continued about its business around her. Mr Morgan walked by her and gave her a tip of his hat in greeting. She sent him a wave and watched as he began cutting some firewood. She noticed Uncle dozing in the sun while Miss Grimshaw cleaned some of the camp’s bedclothes. Bessie and Hosea were repairing the side of one of the wagons, hammering wooden planks into position with each others help. William seemed to be in his element with the horses, grooming the mane of Arthur’s mount, Boadicea. She also spotted a dog roaming about the camp, staying close to Pearson’s wagon as they prepared the food. As she gutted her third fish and cooed at the dog, she noticed John and Dutch talking quietly nearby. Though focusing on her work, she carefully watched them every now and then. Dutch handed the younger man a cup of coffee before pushing him in her direction.

“Uh, hey,” Marston announced himself awkwardly as he reached her.

“Mornin’,” she replied and cut off the tail of the bass with a whack. “Marston, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, John actually. You, uh, want some coffee?”

She eyed the steaming cup he offered her. Choosing to humour him, she quickly finished with the fish and washed her hands in a nearby bucket. “Sure, I’ll take that off you. Thanks.”

He handed her the cup and then took a step back. “No problem.” He paused and threw a glance at Dutch who stood nearby smoking a thick cigar. “Sorry if I seemed kinda�� rude yesterday. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, just watchin’ my back.”

“It’s no bother,” she assured him and took a sip of her drink. Without missing a beat, she shrugged. “Sorry for callin’ you fuck-ugly.”

He scoffed at her reply, but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips. “Not gonna apologise for threatenin’ to shoot me in my fuck-ugly face?”

“I’m not sure. You were bein’ kinda rude, Mr Marston.”

John shook his head, but seemed to take her teasing lightly. As he began to walk away, he added. “Dutch wants you and William at his tent when you get your chores done. Enjoy the coffee, Miss Hennigan.”

Left to it, Maebh continued on with her work until Pearson said she could finish up. By that point, William had finished up with the horses and had carried sacks of flour to the wagon and refilled its a pails of water. Together, they took a short lunch break and then proceeded towards Dutch’s tent together. He was inside with Susan, reading a novel while she worked on some stitching.

“Mr Van der Linde,” Maebh greeted him. “Miss Grimshaw.”

“Ah,” Dutch cheered, looking up from his book. “Well if it isn’t the new recruits. Good work this mornin’, kids. Looks like you two did some decent work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“If you don’t me bein’ so nosey, but what did your parents do?”

“They were farmers, so we’re used to gettin’ up at the crack of dawn.”

“I thought it might’a been somethin’ like that. They taught you most everythin’ you know?”

“Pretty much all of it, yeah.”

“Then I would say they did a fine job lookin’ at you two. Now, I wanted to speak to you about that the money from the stagecoach, if you wouldn’t mind. What exactly are your plans with it?”

Maebh looked to her brother who tilted his head and answered. “Actually, we wanted t’have a chat with you before we didn’t anythin’ with it. Considerin’ we probably wouldn’t’ve made it outta there alive without you’s, we wanted to offer you half the take.”

A smile slowly stretched across Dutch’s lips. “My, my. That is a generous offer from you two; one that I was hopin’ you would make.”

William narrowed his eyes. “You were?”

“Why yes, son. Ya see, the gang uses a similar method with our on robberies — one half goes directly into the gang fund, while the other is split between those who did the job. But we don’t just hoard all of the gang funds to ourselves, and I want to show you what we’ll do with half the stagecoach money. Would you both accompany myself and Mr Morgan on a ride?”

“Where to exactly?”

The older man got to his feet and stepped out from his tent. “To a town north-west of here called Black River Falls; well known for its mining and lumber industries. It’ll take the day to get there, so its best we head out before noon. Arthur!” Maebh looked over to the nearby tent where Arthur resided, scribbling in that book again.

Once he heard his name being called, he came to meet them. “We headin’ out?”

“That we are, do me a favour and fetch the kids two of the spare horses.”

“Sure.” Without argument, Arthur did as his boss asked.

“Well,” Dutch placed his hands on his hips and grinned at the two orphans. “I’m assumin’ you two know how to ride?”

* * *

Though she’d had been living in Wisconsin for years, Maebh had never been to Black River Falls. It was some distance from camp, so they packed an overnight bag at Dutch’s suggestion. They rode out and took breaks for food and sleep that night, considering they and the horses needed a good rest. Their time around the campfire was usually spent with Dutch retelling old stories about his gang. Taking Arthur’s presence into account, he told Maebh and William about how he stumbled across the former as an unruly teenager and quickly recruited him. She was relieved that neither of them pressed her about where she came from. It was easier to not have to reject their curiosity. Whenever she and William decided to divulge about their past would only happen when they felt comfortable and ready to trust these strangers from the West. The one thing Dutch didn’t talk about was the reason why they were heading to this small Midwestern town. Apparently, all would be explained once they got there. Arthur was no more helpful than his mentor.

When they awoke the next morning, they continued on their journey and arrived at Black River Falls in the middle of the afternoon. From what she had heard of the town, it had been a thriving and homely settlement, but there was something strangely eery about the place now that she was there. As they trotted through its muddy streets, she noticed that the residents seemed somewhat dreary and bleak rather than appearing like a flourishing community. They safely hitched their horses outside a saloon and slowly headed indoors.

“Are you seein’ this?” William asked her in a hushed tone, slyly nodding to the people she had been intrigued by outside.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Doesn’t seem like a flourishin’ town to me.”

Before they could exchange any further words, Dutch told them to get a table off to the corner of the room. As the older cowboys went to the bar and made orders for the group, Maebh and William sat down and got a good look at the patrons in the saloon. It was surprising to see quite a fair amount of people in a saloon at this time of day.

“Right,” William sighed. “This is a bit weird now.”

“Agreed. Shouldn’t all these people be at work, or somethin’? They can’t all be outlaws or just passin’ through.”

Under the dim lighting of the saloon, Williams features were sharper than usual. “Why would Dutch ask us to come here of all places? It’s bloody depressin’.”

Dutch and Arthur soon returned with food and drinks in hand. Not exactly expecting much, Maebh wasn’t surprised to see a bowl of oatmeal was the only thing on the menu at the moment. She was somewhat amazed that they were allowed on the premises given their age, but the patrons seemed to care very little. She supposed at least they weren’t drinking any beer, so nothing overtly illegal was going down.

“So,” Maebh began slowly, having eaten half of her meal. “What exactly is the deal with this place? It’s kinda…”

“Miserable?” William finished for her, uncaring of how blunt he sounded.

Arthur snorted at that. “Well, you ain’t wrong, kid.”

Dutch set down his whiskey and answered calmly. “I wanted you two to see this place with your own eyes before I told you what we were doin' here. This town was a thrivin’ place not that long ago, but since then the lumber industries and the mines have shut down and shipped out. For most of the people livin’ here, that was their only source of employment. So now, they ain’t got no jobs and, with no one earnin’ any money, the banks are beginnin’ to fail too, and it won’t be long before they do. The people are positively petrified of the impendin’ winter later this year and there’s talks of starvation if they can’t afford food. They’re stuck out here with no help from any government or Pinkertons — they don’t give a shit about these poor unfortunates, but we do.” He proceeded to sneakily point at the saloon’s patrons. “This is where most of the gang’s half of the stagecoach money will go. These people are in for it for years to come, and we ain’t gonna sit back and watch as the government don’t do nothin’ for ’em. If we did nothin’, then we might as well bury ’em ourselves. Now that you’re in the gang, this is the kinda good you can help bring to the people who need it.”

Without another word, Dutch got to his feet with a bag over his shoulder, inside which was most of the gang’s share of the robbery. He quickly passed off half to Arthur and the pair of them went around the room, handing wads of cash to the stupefied customers. Maebh looked on in hidden admiration as Dutch conversed with the townsfolk, seemingly enjoying their thanks and words of delight. Arthur, though more reserved and polite, waved off their gratitude with a simple nod and urged them to spend the funds on food for their families. Maebh looked to her brother, who usually showed little emotion on his face for others to see, but even he was taken aback by this move.

As Dutch and Arthur moved outside to meet more of the locals, the siblings followed, eager to see the reactions that were sure to come. She observed carefully as Dutch began to address the small crowd that had gathered with words of a lawless America and ‘the ill that civilisation has brought unto the hard-working people that keeps this nation alive’. It was a sight to see, and although he clearly relished the attention, his actions were good and selfless. It was a large sum of money, one that the gang could have used to its advantage, but they would rather give it to those who lost their jobs and feared for their survival.

“The only way we can live in these United States, my friends,” Dutch continued, passing money into the sooty hands of Black River Falls grateful locals. “Is by supportin’ each other. Civilisation would rather have us as dogs lickin’ are their shitty boots. Ain’t no man I’m gonna worship, save for God.”

“Did you think this was goin’ to happen?” she asked her brother from their spot outside the crowd.

“No,” he admitted. “But I have to admit, it’s a noble move.”

“And I think it gives us a better idea of who the Van der Linde Boys are.”

“It surely does.” William smirked before turning his attention from Dutch to her. “I think we might’ve made a good decision for once, Maebh.”

Giving him a curious look, she eyed their new leader who had the crowd in the palm of his hand while Arthur continued to hand out money.

The grand speech continued, spoken now with even more vigour. “So we are returnin’ this money to the pockets of those who need it. Consider it a generous donation from the government of this land, taken without their permission by outlaws who have already experienced hardships at their hands.” At that, Dutch met her gaze and gave her a nod. “This is how you live in America. We are livin’ and we are survivin’, because it’s the only thing we can do while they threaten our very existence. This is how we will live, or we are gonna die tryin’.”

“Yeah,” Maebh said, agreeing with William’s point. “I think we’ll be alright with these lads.”