#anyway i feel like now i need to draw a younger john with dutch too
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storytellering · 2 months ago
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Look at me when I'm talking to you, son.
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redeadepression · 4 years ago
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Never Be | John Marston Fic | Arthur’s POV
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I’ve decided to make this a small series. John’s inner monologue of all his failures (set in my Modern AU) and interactions with his friends and family/their reactions to his situation. This one is different because it’s written from Arthur’s POV! Let me know if you want to hear John’s!
Jumbled timeline because I write what I feel like lately. This is the earliest story in the series so far.
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Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston. Hosea Matthews, Dutch Van der Linde Setting: My Modern AU  Words: 2849 Tags: Angst, Family, Adoption, Modern AU, Teen John No Trigger warnings Summery: Arthur returns home to visit his parents and receives some disturbing news.
~~
The scratching sound of Arthur’s hand-brake was always a concern to him. But even at the age of twenty-eight he was still struggling to have enough money to take the concern too seriously.
Instead, he ignored it as he always did. Making sure to let it click at least three times and silently praying that his car would not roll back down the drive once he left it.
He sat back in his chair for a moment. Letting his head fall back against the rest and sighing deeply as he prepared himself for the next few hours.
He loved his parents deeply. He would be forever grateful for the way they took him in. Not just as a Foster family but for adopting him officially as well.
But hell, they were exhausting sometimes. Dutch more so than Hosea. Always wanting to talk shop and try and convince Arthur to go another way in life. Stop trying to get his art out there and take on a trade instead.
Hosea was more supportive of his life choices. But the way he fussed over Arthur’s eating and the way he lived was its own form of exhausting. Always having to assure the older man that his apartment was clean and he had eaten three meals in a day.
Instant ramen was a meal. He didn’t care how hard others argued against that.
He missed being a carefree teen like John was at the moment. Not having to worry about mundane things like bills and whether or not his car would break down on the way to work for the third time in a week.
Steeling himself against the wave of questions as to why it had been so long since he visited, he pushed open his door and exited the vehicle.
Locking his car and checking to make sure his wallet was in his back pocket. He turned, jogging up the front steps and knocking on the screen door. It rattled under his knuckles, wobbling in its frame. Arthur had always mused just how easy it would be to push it off it’s hinges and walk inside. He was always on their asses to lock the wooden door as well but they refused. The screen let in the cool breeze and stopped them from having to pay for air conditioning.
Not that the cool breeze ever did anything to alleviate how sweltering their house was in summer.
Air conditioning was something Arthur had looked forward to the most when he left home. Turning it on and letting it run 24/7.
Until he’d gotten his first power bill.
“$600 a year is a bit steep for power isn’t it?” He’d asked Hosea bitterly.
Hosea had laughed heartily at his son’s naivety.
“Electric bills are not yearly son.” He’d corrected. “Every three months.”
“Every three months?” Arthur had asked incredulously, the other man smiling to himself knowingly.
“Not so fun being an adult now is it?” He’d chuckled simply.
Arthur still bristled at the memory. They could have warned him.
Although he knew deep down there was no way he would have listened anyway.
Arthur drummed his fingers absently against his thigh as he waited to be let inside. Frowning when no one came to the door and flicking through his keys to look for his old one.
He let himself inside, closing and relocking the door behind him as he yelled out that he had entered.
He checked the time on his watch as he walked down the hallway and turned into the living room. They did say lunch was at 2pm. He was only fifteen minutes early.
No one was in the kitchen.
Placing his hands on his hips, he looked around the room, clicking his tongue as he decided they must still be on their way home.
“Alright.” He whispered under his breath, leaving the living room and continuing on down the hallway towards his old room. He had wanted to grab some of his book he’d left here years before anyway.
As he sidled down the hallway he stopped in his tracks, movement catching his eye as he backtracked a few steps and peered into John’s bedroom through the open door.
“Hey?” He asked in surprise, realising the teen was home.
John startled at Arthur’s voice. Turning to stare at the older man, equally surprised from his place atop his bed.
“Hey.” He said back croakily, arms crossed across his chest moving to rest by his side as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.
He had been staring despondently at the ceiling. Arthur wondered if he hadn’t heard him or if he was ignoring him purposefully.
“I called out.” Arthur stated simply, shrugging as he moved into the room without invitation and slumped himself down into John’s desk chair.
“Thought you were Dutch.” John said wearily, head hanging low as he sat on the edge of his bed and refused to make eye contact with the older man.
Arthur frowned, something about the teen seeming off. He was never the most enthusiastic teenager but he usually made a little more of an effort to engage with Arthur than he was at the moment. Despite his emo phase ending a few years earlier he seemed withdrawn and sullen.
Arthur took in the younger’s pale appearance. Dark circles underlining his youthful eyes and discolouration mottling his cheeks and brow.
He seemed ill or at the very least, extremely tired.
Arthur knew he had been working hard at his trade lately. He’d earned himself an apprenticeship in some form of construction work. Hosea had been fuzzy on the details. Even hazier on whether or not John actually enjoyed or wanted the job.
Deep down Arthur felt perhaps John had just bowed to the pressure of setting himself up in life that his parents had always instilled on them. He had to choose something to get them off his back.
He felt bad for the kid. He didn’t really have any ambitions. None that he ever liked to talk about anyway.
“You alright?” Arthur asked earnestly, leaning down to try and catch John’s eye as the other nodded softly.
“Yeah.” He lied, unable to truly force the deceit.
Arthur heard the statement for what it was, pursing his lips as he rested his forearms on his knees and leaned closer to the younger man.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, already knowing what the answer would be as John shook his head.
Arthur inhaled deeply, sitting back in his chair and wincing as he leaned forwards again to pull his wallet from his back pocket. Placing that and his keys on the desk next to him before pausing and returning for his wallet. Slipping a 20 out of it and placing it between a stack of books.
He was broke as shit but he always had money for little John. The boy never asked anyone for a Goddamn cent and Arthur knew firsthand how cruel teenage life could be growing up with no cash. Although his parents had been generous with him, they were still less than wealthy compared to a lot of other kids in Arthur’s class.
Arthur turned back to John, clasping his hands together in between his knees and thinking on something to say to try and get the kid to talk to him. He had been feeling bad for not visiting as often lately. He wondered subconsciously if John was annoyed about that. Feeling neglected.
He had been meaning to drop by. Especially as John closed in on his eighteenth birthday. Only a week away now. Arthur had wanted to have a quick chat with him about drinking responsibly.
Although he knew of course the kid would never listen to him as he had not listened in the past. He wanted him to know he could always call if he needed him. That Arthur would be his designated driver no questions asked if he needed it.
Hosea had offered that to him just shy of his own eighteenth birthday. That and adoption papers. Arthur had never been so happy in his life.
“Your birthday’s coming up.” Arthur said after another moment of silence. “Eighteen, that’s exciting.” He baited, waiting for the other to perk up at the mention. What kind of teen wasn’t excited about hitting adulthood and all the disappointing realities that came along with it?
John’s hands tightened against his mattress, frown deepening at the mention of his birthday as Arthur watched on in confusion.
“Uh…” Arthur began, unsure what exactly had upset the kid. “Not excited then?” He asked, regretting his choice of words as he caught sight of John’s eyes watering. The younger’s hand shot to his face, wiping at the wetness before it could fall. Turning his face away from Arthur and trying his hardest to hide his tears and compose himself. “John?” Arthur said softly, feeling guilt well in his chest for causing such a strong reaction in the teen. It had been a long time since he’d seen him cry.
“Don’t.” John choked, shaking his head as he silently begged the older man to leave it alone. “Just, don’t.” He repeated, voice thick with emotion as Arthur watched on sadly.
“Arthur!” Hosea called suddenly, excited voice echoing down the hall as they both heard the old screen door rattle. Arthur turned away from John, looking out the doorway as the scrape of boots on the front mat and footsteps on the floorboards could be heard. The clunking steps drawing closer as the older couple returned home. “You’re early!” Dutch chided as the footsteps took a turn and Arthur knew without having to look that they had walked through the living room and into the kitchen.
“Fifteen minutes!” He shouted back. “Ya’ll haven’t even started cooking yet.” He complained half-heartedly before turning back to John and frowning once more. The younger was wiping at his face frantically, looking panicked as he tried to usher Arthur from the room.
The older man nodded, grabbing for his wallet and keys before leaving John’s room and closing the door behind him. He stood in the hallway for a minute, reflecting on the strangeness of John’s behaviour before heading back towards the living room.
He supposed he would not have wanted them to see him crying at that age either. He still had trouble crying in front of his romantic partner, let alone his parents. He would feel like a right fool if they caught him in that state.
Arthur’s parents looked up to greet him as he entered the living room, walking through and towards the kitchen bench as they both fluffed around putting groceries away.
“And here’s one we prepared earlier.” Hosea joked as he lifted a large bag of KFC into view and dumped it onto the bench in front of Arthur. The younger man laughed. He hadn’t been sure what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t take away food. Not that he was complaining. But he sure did miss a home cooked meal.
He didn’t let the irony fly over his head at that fact. He had complained many times as a teen that he wanted fast food instead of the roast that had been prepared. Now he would kill for a juicy roast instead of the same greasy burger over and over again.
Arthur watched as the older couple shuffled around the small kitchen, gathering the plates and utensils they would need to eat.
He took the plates as they were handed to him, moving the short walk to the dining room table and placing them down in their respective places.
He moved back towards the bench and took handful of cutlery from Hosea.
“Hey?” Arthur asked softly, grabbing the older man’s attention as he leant against the counter and chewed over his words. “Everything alright with John?” He asked after a moment, keeping his voice low as he was aware the kid could enter the room any minute.
“Is he here?” Hosea asked in surprise, making Arthur frown.
“Yeah.” Arthur replied simply. Taking a moment to let Hosea speak again before adding. “In his room.”
“Oh.” Hosea said softly, un-bagging the food and passing the items to Dutch to place onto plates. Arthur waited for one of them to speak again. Feeling impatient as they continued to ready lunch rather than answering his question.
“Is he alright?” Arthur asked again, a little firmer as Dutch finally turned his attention to the younger and Hosea ignored him, walking past with platefuls of food.
“He’ll be fine.” Dutch assured, picking up his own plates and walking towards the table as Arthur followed suspiciously.
Hosea placed his food down in the middle of the table. Turning to face Dutch with his arms across his chest and a sour face.
“Go on.” He snapped as Dutch approached. “Tell him.”
Arthur looked between them with furrowed brows as Dutch let out a long sigh. He had rarely seen them fight in his time with them and if they did it was usually Dutch that held a grudge.
Arthur felt something unsettling turn his stomach as he watched Dutch place his own plates down on the table.
He turned to Arthur, shrugging.
“We’ve decided not to adopt John.” He explained, shaking his head if he was talking about keeping a puppy or a kitten and not a human child.
Arthur felt his mouth open in shock as he looked between the two of them in disbelief.
“What?” He asked softly, eyes lingering on Hosea as he waited for the other man to argue.
“Dutch feels…” Hosea began, stopping himself quickly and correcting his words. “We feel…” He began again. “That it’s not in our best interest to take on another child permanently.” He explained eloquently as Arthur scoffed at the excuse.
He had always assumed that John would be adopted just as he had. As soon as the agency had confirmed that they had no plans to send him elsewhere, he had become a permanent fixture in their lives. Or Arthur’s life at least. He had let himself actually get to know the kid.
He loved him like a real brother. He had always thought that one day they would really be brothers, tied together by their parents.
“What about John’s best interest?” He asked flatly. Shock stopping him from expressing himself properly as he waited for a better answer than ‘it’s not in our best interests’.
That was a load of bullshit. There was something else going on and it made Arthur feel uneasy.
“We don’t have time to get into it now Arthur.” Dutch said gently, holding a hand out in front of him to signal that Arthur needed to drop the subject. The younger man glared at him, jaw clenched as he held back a rebuttal.
His parents were good people and he trusted them to make good decision for himself and the other children.
Well, John.
John had not been the last child they’d taken in. He was just the only one that didn’t have parents to go back to.
He was alone in this world, just like Arthur. John didn’t have any family and the family he did have before they passed had left him with nothing. Which is why Arthur had always assumed Dutch and Hosea would take him in too.
Give the poor kid the family he so desperately craved.
He knew deep down that they must have a good reason for what they were doing to John. But in that moment, he was blinded by a simmering rage as he remembered the boy’s tears earlier and how hard that kid had fought his whole life to feel accepted by anyone, especially their family.
Arthur turned his attention to Hosea once more, their eyes locking as Arthur registered a deep sadness in the older man. Stood a few steps behind Dutch, the older man shook his head slowly, telling Arthur to let it go before this situation turned ugly.
Arthur swallowed audibly, licking at his lips and turning to look at the dining room table full of food.
He felt sick to his stomach. His appetite gone.
“Have you told him?” He asked after a long moment, sucking on his teeth as he waited for an answer. The silence in the room deafening as the seconds ticked on without a reply.
“Not yet.” Dutch answered eventually. The scrape of a chair breaking the tension in the air as the older man pulled it out from under the table and slumped down into it.
Hosea followed suit, gesturing for Arthur to do the same.
He did as instructed, walking around the table and pulling out the chair from his favourite spot. Slinking down into it and looking to his right at the empty place he had set for John.
He supposed that they were all aware the kid would not be joining them.
“Well, he knows.” Arthur replied, venom in his tone as he snatched at the bucket of chicken in front of him and pulled it closer.
End.
~~~~~
Poor John. :(  If you’ve read my other works you guys can probably see where this is heading. 
I got my electric bill today.. Also had KFC for dinner because I couldn’t stop thinking about chicken after writing this. 
Please let me know if you read this and liked it! I love hearing from my awesome readers! Let me know if you want more backstory and what you’re hoping to see in future stories! ❤
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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago
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Hello! Could i request a drabble where orphan!reader gets picked up by the gang only after a few months Arthur does? He's like highkey jealous of the new golden child until she's in a bad situation to get hurt and he instantly goes protective, kinda ends up realizing she's part of his family too along the way. Also i send many praises your way ~ you're so talented and thank you for doing these requests!!
This one turned out greatly different from what I planned, but that’s one of the joys of being a writer. You don’t always know what’s going to happen either. I’ve also never written a young Arthur, so this was a new experience. Anyways, enjoy! There’s blood, violence, poor Spanish (on my part), and it’s topped with a big serving of fluff at the end. 
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Arthur leans against the fence, glaring across the paddock at you. You’ve been a thorn in his side ever since you showed up four months ago. He used to think John was bad enough, but you… you’re worse.
Dutch and Hosea brought you in, covered in dirt and thin as a bone, but your pockets laden with stolen trinkets. You’d foolishly tried to rob Dutch himself, hoping to find something you could sell in order to get the day’s meal. Never before had you been caught stealing, but it was hard to fool a pro like Dutch. He instantly knew what you were up to, but he and Hosea saw your potential when they unloaded your pockets and saw all your ill-gotten gains. 
Over the next few months, Dutch and Hosea both taught you to read, Grimshaw taught you how to clean and Arthur was told to teach you how to use a gun, though he hated it. He couldn’t believe someone as old as you (though you were a few years younger than him and he was nearly twenty) could barely do anything. He’d heard the story that your parents died when you were very young, taken by yellow fever. After their deaths, you were sent to an orphanage but it was so overcrowded, filthy and miserable you ran away and lived on the streets where you were more likely to scrounge up a meal. Still, Arthur didn’t care for you. 
Hosea and Dutch boasted about you as you were eager to learn. You picked up reading and writing extremely fast and Grimshaw had no problem teaching you how to do the domestic work around camp. You liked doing them even, as they kept your hands busy (even though the work itself was dull). Arthur felt smug when you struggled to learn how to shoot a gun or skin an animal, ignoring the remarks by Hosea that he was more likely to blame for being a poor instructor. It was no secret Arthur was jealous.
But how could he not be? For years, it had been just him, Dutch and Hosea. They were the perfect trio and the two men were more like a family to him than he’d ever known before. When Grimshaw entered the picture, it didn’t change things much. In fact she was a bonus as she taught Arthur how to repair his clothes. But when John Marston came, that was when things turned. Dutch and Hosea rescued him when he was only 12 and standing on the gallows, a rope around his neck. 
John became the golden boy after that and Arthur felt he was pushed to the side. He tried time and again to gain his status back, to be the favorite boy. He just wanted the same attention he used to get instead of having most of the work thrown on his back. Sure, John learned the proper ways of being an outlaw, but Dutch and Hosea doted on him. Things went on this way for nearly four years and then you entered the picture. 
There’s been a lot of resentment Arthur holds towards you. Since he was a few years older and definitely looked like an adult, he was intimidating. Not only that, but he’s been running with the gang for most of his life. You, well, the easiest way to put it were a nobody. Just some orphan girl who could barely pick up a knife before you came here. And now here you are, raking in all the glory while he does all the work. 
He sighs, his eyes boring into you. You’ve been wise to avoid him the past couple of days, ever since the robbery. Hosea had taken you into town, targeting a rather rich man who would be easy to rob provided he had something to distract him. Hosea had gotten you to pretend to be his daughter and to have a fit. You’d played the part brilliantly and the man was too easy to rob, and the take was excellent. Arthur was supposed to go with him on that job, but he’d been out with Mary so Hosea took you instead. 
Arthur’s mood dips even further when he thinks about Mary. They’d had another big fight and he wasn’t too sure she’d contact him again this time. He loves her, but he isn’t too sure that feeling is reciprocated. A few weeks ago, they’d been out together and some man tried to pick a fight with Arthur. That was the first time Mary saw his outlaw side and it scared her how quickly Arthur drew out his gun and he hadn’t even flinched when he pulled the trigger. They’ve been fighting ever since. Part of him regrets giving her that ring last time he saw her. He felt he was making a commitment to her, but she might not be willing to do the same. He’s started to see how easily she plays him. 
A loud giggle draws him out of his mind again and he looks back up at you and Hosea. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, at this old house the gang has been occupying for the last few months. He goes over to his horse, his mind set on taking a ride and being gone for a few days. Maybe that’ll help him clear his head and he can get away from you. Just as he’s about to mount up, Hosea walks over with you in tow. 
“Arthur, where you going?”
“Just… around. Be back in a few days.” 
“Well, take Y/N with you.” 
“Why?” Arthur shoots back. 
You lower your head. You know he’s not fond of you. 
“Because she needs to learn how to survive out there. Teach her how to set up a campfire, go fishing, hunting. She needs the experience.” 
“Why can’t you or Dutch take her?” 
“Arthur, she’s your family too, whether you like it or not. Besides, me and Dutch might have something cooking up. Just take her and don’t get her lost!” 
Arthur groans but relents. Despite his annoyance, you flash a big grin at him and grab your horse. He doesn’t wait for you to get settled into the saddle before he’s running. Nothing has ever felt like a bigger weight than dragging you along. 
For the next few hours, he leads you on down south towards the San Luis River. He hopes you won’t complain about the heat, the bugs or the snakes. You don’t though. You try to pick up a conversation with him a few times, but when he doesn’t take, you settle for gazing at the surroundings. The sky is so beautiful down here, feeling somehow closer. 
Over the next several hours, Arthur continues further south and west, down below Tumbleweed even. You’ve never been this far out west, but you like it. The land is incredible, growing in strange, hot formations. The water from the distant river has a richer color than it does back east. 
Several times, Arthur tries to lose you. He just wants some peace and quiet, some room and space to think. Besides, if he really wanted to talk with someone, you’d be the last person he’d pick. Unfortunately, you stick to him as efficiently as a determined fly. He just can’t shake you off. 
By the end of the night, Arthur is more than irritated with you. He shows you how to pitch a tent and make a fire, but he grumbles the entire way through it and he doesn’t do a very thorough job. You feel you’ve learned nothing, but you know his patience is short enough as it is without you acting stupid, so you pretend to know what you’re doing. You lie down in your bedroll, your head sticking out enough so you can still see the stars. 
Arthur, lying in his own tent, continues to glare at you. You’re still young enough to retain your naivety towards the world, and part of him despises you for it. He’s started to see how ugly it all is, how ugly his way of life is. At least he can hold onto the smug thought that someday, in a couple of years or maybe even sooner, you’ll see it too. 
Halfway through the night, Arthur’s startled awake. He’s always been a light sleeper, and he’s even more so when sleeping out in the wilderness like this. You’d snored particularly hard and that was why he’d woken. He sighs heavily when you give another loud snore. Why did he get saddled with you? 
A horrible thought comes to him. What if he just ditched you? Hell, a couple of days on your own out here would do you some good. He’d come back for you of course, he’s not stupid enough to return to the gang without you. Hosea and Dutch would be furious. He won’t set that kind of example for the 12 year old John neither. After thinking on it for a while, he quietly collapses his tent and gets on his horse, riding away into the night. 
He doesn’t go far, of course. He’s not so cruel to leave you completely unattended, but he’s rather interested to see how you’ll handle yourself. Besides, it’ll distract him from Mary and maybe he’ll even get a good laugh. 
He settles himself far enough away that the only way to keep an eye on you is through his binoculars. You surely won’t be able to see him. He sets up his own tiny camp and sleeps a while longer. 
Hours pass and the sun rises, forcing you to wake. After rubbing your eyes, you look around to find Arthur’s things gone. The sight causes you to leap out of your tent. Did he abandon you? No, you think. Arthur may dislike you, but you refuse to think him cruel enough to do that. The only conclusion you can think of is that someone took him. However, after inspecting where his tent had been, you see no signs of another person or even an animal around. Everything you can see points to the fact that, at some point, he’d just gotten up and left. 
You sit down near the hot coals of what’s left of last night’s fire, place your elbows on your crossed legs and plop your chin on your hands. You’ve been trying so hard to stay out of Arthur’s way, to not give him a reason to hate you. It’s not your fault that Hosea and Dutch dote on you so much. Personally, sometimes it makes you a bit nervous, like they’re setting you up for when you finally mess up. But did Arthur really hate you enough to just leave you like this? Will he tell Dutch and Hosea that you drowned or ran off or something, give them some kind of excuse behind your absence? Probably. 
The thought of what lie Arthur might come up with sparks an anger you’ve never felt before. Dutch and Hosea took you in, offered to give you a new life with meaning to it. You’re not some orphaned kid living in the street like a rat anymore. You’re an outlaw, and outlaws are brave. You won’t give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing he bested you. Somehow, someway, you’ll find your way back to the gang’s hideout. You smile when you think of the shocked expression on Arthur’s face when you show up. 
After eating a tin of peaches, you clumsily pack up your tent and stuff it into your saddlebags, ignoring that a large section dangles out (you tried stuffing it in but it just wouldn’t fit). You kick dirt onto the coals, sufficiently dousing them and then you mount up, determined to head back home. Unfortunately (and under the watchful eyes of Arthur), you start heading east, but you’re not going far enough north. 
Arthur doesn’t stop you though. He follows you, constantly checking on your progress and chuckling to himself when you continue the wrong way. He’s provided another good laugh when you pull out the bow Dutch had bought you a few weeks back, but you’ve never used before. It’s clear you’ve never shot a bow before, Arthur watches you struggle to notch an arrow and then try shooting it at a grazing pronghorn. The arrow flies forward about five feet before it lands on the ground. The tip doesn’t even get buried in the sand. 
Several more times you try to shoot the arrow, but with little progress. You shoot on and on until the muscles in your arms and ribs throb painfully. Arthur only left you with a few cans of food and a bit of dried beef. Certainly not enough to allow you to survive a few days on your own. But you’ll manage. One of the benefits of being an orphan on the street was you learned how to go a day or two without food. It’s not fun, but you can do it. 
A few more hours pass and you’re miserable. Your stomach is growling, but you refuse to eat any of your precious reserves. The sun beats down hard and unrelenting, burning your arms. You’re grateful for your tattered hat as your head and face are spared. 
As the sun begins its slow descent in the sky, you come across a small lake. On the south end is an empty cabin. Perhaps you’ll have the good fortune of being able to stay there for the night. After setting up a good place to sleep in the cabin and unsaddling your horse, you take out your fishing pole. However, you don’t know the first thing about fishing and no one bothered to set it up before giving it to you. You know there’s some complicated knotting to it all, and that’s about it. 
As the sky grows a bit darker and you’re given a break from the unforgiving heat, you scour the land for any kind of edible plants. The problem is  you really don’t know what’s safe to eat, or if some plants must be boiled or cooked before they’re safe. It’s all new territory for you. After finally crumbling and eating some of the dried beef, you go to bed, your stomach still demanding more food. 
Arthur chuckles to himself from the safety of his own camp, a rabbit cooking over the fire. You’re really out of your element here. Finally, there’s something he can boast about that you can’t do. Of course, he knows that if Dutch and Hosea ever find out, they’ll be furious, but Arthur’s sure you won’t ever tell them. Especially when he comes back to get you and you find out he was never far away. After eating, he lies down on his bedroll, his hands behind his head. He looks up at the stars, smiling a bit. Depending on how badly you do tomorrow, he’ll fetch you and bring you home. 
Morning comes once again and Arthur sits up. After clearing his eyes, he pulls out his binoculars and easily finds the cabin you spent the night in. Your horse is still where you left it, but there’s no sign of movement from the cabin. Figuring you’re just tired and hungry, he waits for you to come out. However, when midday comes and he still hasn’t seen you, he grows worried. After packing up his things, he rides to the lake. 
When he arrives, he pauses, listening, waiting. Still nothing. He puts his horse next to yours and inspects it. Your horse greets him with a soft whinny, but she’s clearly hungry in this tiny paddock with no food to browse on. Something’s wrong. You care about your horse more than anything, you’d never let her starve. He gives her a quick pat and then heads into the cabin, hoping you’re not sick or overly distraught. 
When he opens the door, his stomach plummets. The cabin is strewn with signs of a struggle, furniture toppled over. A table lies on its side, one leg splintered off. The mess looks fresh, like it happened within the past few hours. The bed in the corner shows signs of having been slept in. It takes him only a second to realize that sometime during the night, someone or maybe even a few people came in and kidnapped you. 
Arthur’s not a pro at tracking, especially people. That’s one of his weak spots, but he knows he has to do his best and find you.It’s not even the thought that Dutch and Hosea will kill him if he tells them, it’s that he never intended for you to get hurt during his little prank. He has to fix this.
*****************************************************
You’re tied up to a post in the middle of a paddock, the sun unforgivingly beating down on you. Your throat cracks with nearly every breath, desperate for water. Your skin screams for shade and sweat glides down your back beneath your shirt. During the last hour, your head has started to pound. 
When you’d gotten to the cabin last night, you believed, based on the thick coating of dust on every surface, that it hadn’t been occupied in several months. However, shortly after you’d fallen asleep, three men broke into it and captured you. You tried giving them a hard fight, but as they were bigger than you (and there were more than you), it didn’t take them too much effort to subdue you. 
When they managed to get you tied up and thrown over the back of one of their horses, they discussed a little. You couldn’t really understand them, as two of them spoke quickly in Spanish. The third, although being a white man, also spoke their language, though his was more broken as though he didn’t quite have a handle on it. After a few minutes, they mounted up and rode off, leaving all your things behind. As they cantered away, your hat fell from your head. 
A few hours later, your gut heaving painfully from being thrown over the horse’s rear, the trio slowed down and you saw in the darkness a small house and a large barn with several paddocks outside of it. As the group approached the property, more men came out, speaking again in Spanish. A few of the white members traded some words in English and it became clear what they were going to do. They were going to try and sell you as you were still young and desirable to a great number of men. 
Your blood pumped hard in your ears and you tried to break free or squirm out of your bonds, but they were too tight. One of the men grabbed you and you began thrashing and screaming, kicking him several times in the thighs and stomach. 
“Este tiene una pelea en ella. Hagamos que tenga sed,” he said. The others chuckled and nodded their heads. 
The man carried you into one of the smaller paddocks that had a large pole staked into the sun-baked earth. The ropes around your hands were cut just long enough that he and one of his companions could swing your arms behind you and tie them back together. It became quickly clear that the only way to free yourself was to try and attract the attention of anyone who was nearby, so you started to scream. 
“Cállate!” one of the men yelled and held a knife to your throat as tears slid down your cheeks. 
“No, déjala gritar,” said a particularly tall man. You gathered from his stance and his dusty clothes that he might very well be the leader of these men. “Se cansará, y no hay nadie aquí para escucharla.” 
The man holding the knife to your throat backed off and they all went back into the house or the barn. You knew you only had a few hours until the sun rose, so your best bet at escaping was now while you still had the strength and energy. However, those hours slid by quickly, and you hadn’t gotten anywhere. You’d twisted your arms, rubbing your wrists raw, but the rope held tightly. You’d screamed, but just like the tall man had said (though you hadn’t understood him), you screamed yourself hoarse. 
This is where you are now, trapped, being forced to await your inevitable fate. Not once have any of the men come out to check on you. Occasionally one will come out of the barn or the house and go to the other building, or step over to the wall of a small plateau to take a piss, but none of them ever interact or even seem to take notice of you. Sometimes you’ll hear one of them yell from the buildings, but other than that, all is quiet. 
As the day wears on, you wonder what the hell they’re waiting for. If they intend to sell you, why don’t they just drag you away. You almost don’t care anymore, you just want to get out of this sun. 
At one point, a vulture soars overhead and lands ominously on the roof of the barn, peering down at you with a liquid black eye. He stays there for a long time too, almost as though waiting to see if you’ll die. You know you won’t though. Not today anyways. Despite this horrendous torture, you’re not so dehydrated as to expire. If you’re in this same state in two days, it will be different, but you’re not there yet. One of the men shouts loudly inside the barn and the vulture takes flight. 
Finally, gratefully, the sun dips down to the horizon. Your mind wanders back to Arthur and how he just left you. Even though you’ve every reason to, you don’t hate him. Sure, you’re angry and hurt that he just disappeared during the night, leaving you completely alone. You’d looked up to him during these past few weeks. Despite being only a few years older than you, he had so much more knowledge and he had such a cool, collected attitude that you admired. Not only that, but he was good looking, even though you know he’s involved with another girl. Still, as your burnt skin aches and your wrists crack with dried blood, you can’t hate him. Hell, you would’ve probably done the same thing were you in his shoes. 
Stars flicker in the sky above as the horizon grows darker. As the air cools, you feel a slight surge in energy and you try to wriggle yourself free again. While you squirm, you realize if you angle your right hand in a flat shape and don’t clench your hand or wrist, you might be able to slip free. You do so and your hand begins to slide out. The rope catches at the widest part of your hand where your thumb grows out of your hand, but you angle it in such a way that the rope continues up and over. Finally, your arms fall loose. You’re free. 
You fall onto your hands and knees for a moment. Your legs are exhausted from being forced into the crouched position for so long and your feet have gone numb. You give yourself one minute to recollect yourself, then you stand up and start walking to the fence farthest away from the barn. 
Just as you’re climbing the fence, the barn door opens and you hear someone yell at you. As quickly as you can manage, you start running, but the whole group is aware now. They charge after you and two of them swing lassos around you. A shrill scream leaves your throat as you fall to the ground, the ropes tightening around your elbows, pinning them to your body. 
“Ah, still have fight in you,” one of the men says in a thick accent. He chuckles beneath his thick mustache. 
The tall leader glares down at you with a nasty smile. “Átala de nuevo, pero hazlo mejor. Asegúrate de que no pueda escapar esta vez.” The others nod and agree. The leader bends his knees to look you in the eyes. “Try to escape again, we will show you what we will sell you for.” 
A sickening chuckle goes around the circle from all the men. You can do nothing but try and look angrily back at him, though you’re terrified. He smiles, puts a cigar in his throat, and beckons to the two men holding you with ropes. 
Just as they bend to pick you up, a deafening bang echoes not far off and one of the men’s heads shoots out a thick stream of blood. He stumbles and falls, but just as the others are turning to look at the source of his death, another one falls, clutching his neck. You hear a horse thundering towards you, roaring as your captors return fire. You can’t see who it is through the tangles of legs between you and your rescuer, but a spark of hope flickers in your chest. 
As more men topple, you get the urge to fight. You start kicking the men closest to you, knocking them down and making them easy targets. You smash your heel into the ankle of one of the men holding your ropes. He falls and you climb onto him, slamming your fist into his face over and over. 
Just as the last of the men fall, you’re suddenly yanked from the man you’re beating. A thick arm goes around your neck and the barrel of a pistol gets shoved to your temple. 
“Drop your gun!” the tall man says. “You want her dead?” 
This is the first time you’ve been given the chance to look at your savior and your eyes land on Arthur. He looks angry and worried at the same time, his pistol pointed at the man. 
“Let her go,” he tells the man, who just chuckles. 
“I have the upper hand, chico. I make the rules. You want her alive? Drop your gun!”
Arthur complies and throws down his gun. The man’s finger fiddles a bit with the trigger and he laughs again.
“Good. I’ll give it to you, hijo. You can shoot real well. If it wasn’t my men dead, I’d invite you to my gang.” 
“And what gang is that?” he snarls. 
“Del Lobos, chico. I know you’ve heard of us.” 
Of course, the Del Lobos. The gang made of Mexicans and Californians looking to seize power after they themselves were stripped of their own. Honestly you’re surprised it’s taken you this long to run into them. Seems that most people who live south of Blackwater have dealt with them. Arthur’s eyes betray that he’s certainly heard of them. 
“Just let her go, buddy. She ain’t done nothin’ to you.” 
“Why she so important?” the tall man demands.
“Because… she’s my family. I just want to bring her home.” 
The tall man makes a mocking, simpering sound and then laughs again. “So sweet. Familia. Greatest strength there is, and yet the greatest weapon. But… I don’t want to let her go. She’s… how you say… valiosa. People pay lots of money.” 
Arthur’s eyes narrow. You know he won’t have any chance to save you if you just stand here and let yourself be a damsel in distress. Before Arthur has the chance to respond, you pick up your foot and slam it against the man’s shin. His hold on you loosens and his gun points up in the air as he cries out in surprise and pain. 
“Maldita sea!” he yells and Arthur takes the distraction, pulling out a knife and throwing it. His aim is true and the knife plunges into the man’s eye, throwing his head back as you duck and break out of his grip. 
When the man falls, gurgling as he dies, you look at Arthur, breathing heavily. He picks up his pistol and holsters it. Then, with a guilty expression, he looks at you. 
“Are… are you okay?” 
“Yeah, no thanks to you I might add.” 
He swallows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really leave. I had my eye on you the whole time. Well, most of the time anyways. Thought.... Thought it might be interestin’ to see how you faired on your own.” 
“So me getting kidnapped, beaten and threatened to be sold was interesting to you, was it?” you snarl, your anger picking up. 
“No, it wasn’t. I didn’t think this would happen. Here.” From his satchel he pulls out a waterskin, handing it to you. You snatch it from him and drink greedily. While you’re drinking, he goes over to the man’s corpse and pulls out his knife, wiping it clean on the man’s clothes. 
Once you’ve had your fill of water, you hand Arthur his waterskin back and look around. By his horse you see yours not far behind. “Thanks for… for getting her. Saves me the trouble of having to track her down.” 
Arthur just grunts in response. “Well come on. Think we’ve had enough of an adventure.” 
The two of you mount up and begin riding off. As you leave the property of dead men behind, Arthur turns to you. 
“You aren’t going to tell Dutch and Hosea about this, are you?” 
How dare he ask you this? You nearly died back there, and if you hadn’t been killed and if Arthur hadn’t showed up, you’d have lost your freedom. 
Arthur looks at you with a sad expression. “I’m really sorry about all this. I… I don’t know why I thought leaving you alone out here was a good idea. Guess… with the way Dutch and Hosea talk about ya, it’s like you can’t do nothing wrong. Maybe I just wanted to prove I was better at somethin’ than you.” 
“Better at something?” you say. “Arthur, I’ve been idolizing just about everything you do for weeks now! I can barely hold a gun while you just shot like eight guys on your own back there. You can do a million things I can’t, and even the stuff I can do, you can do better.”
He sighs and looks ahead. “Don’t seem that way with how they talk about ya.” 
“Arthur, I don’t want to be the golden child in the gang, I really don’t. But I can’t control how they act over me. But… I won’t tell them about this.” 
He visibly relaxes and thanks you. 
“But can I ask,” you say, “why did you go to all this trouble to save me? It would’ve been easy enough to go home and tell the others that I’d just run off or something like that.” 
He sighs. “Because that wouldn’t be right. I… I couldn’t let you be killed by those men if I knew I could do something about it. I already have enough sins to carry, I don’t need to add your death to that list. Besides, you’re… you’re my family, miss. You, Dutch, Hosea, Susan… John. You’re my family. Sure, we ain’t always gonna get along, but no family does. Besides, I’d rather have you part of it than not.” 
You smile at him, your heart flooding with warmth and affection. That was the first time you felt something for him that was more than just admiration or idolization. 
You sit now on the bed, Arthur sleeping next to you. You’ve been dating him for a few months now, but it’s hard to think that you’ve known the outlaw for nearly twenty years. They haven’t been easy either, secretly being in love with him and watching him prance after Mary, finding out about Eliza and his son Isaac and then their deaths. 
Arthur’s grown remarkably since you were captured by the Del Lobos, and not just physically. He developed an extremely strong sense of loyalty towards Dutch, Hosea, you and even John, though he was badly hurt when John disappeared for a year after Jack was born. The gang’s grown remarkably since too, adding over a dozen more people. 
Arthur stirs awake beside you, rolling over to expose his strong chest. You smile when he looks up at you and sighs sleepily. 
“What you doin’?” he groans. 
“Just writing,” you say, closing your journal. Another habit you picked up from him. He puts his hand on your back and you lay down, plopping your head onto his chest after kissing his neck. He sighs again, his arm settling over you. 
“What you writin’ about?” 
“Nothing much. But you remember that first camping trip we took?” 
Arthur groans and chuckles a bit. “Oh God. That was awful. I don’t know why you liked me so much. I was the biggest ass.” 
“Maybe. But I thought you were cool. And maybe I kinda wanted to be like you.” 
“At least you were nice enough never to tell Dutch and Hosea.” 
You chuckle and slide your hand over his, which is resting on his stomach. You place a soft kiss over his heart and settle down to get some sleep. 
“Do you have to do this job in Blackwater tomorrow?” you ask. 
“Darlin’, I told ya. Hosea and I ain’t doin’ the ferry job. We’re just goin’ to town, gonna try workin’ on that real estate scam and keep an eye on things while Dutch and the others work on the boat.” 
“Mmm, good. Somethin’ doesn’t feel right about this job,” you say. “Just… promise me you’ll come home safe?” 
You look up at him. He can’t help but melt at your large eyes. He kisses your forehead. “I promise, sweetheart.” 
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marvel-redemption-omega · 5 years ago
Text
Of Outlaws and Family
Chapter Five: Rodeo Queen, Awakened
A/N: This is nothing but a random mission I decided might be fun; a way Scarlet can show Dutch that she can help bring in money, even if it seems silly to him. Just some general fluff and good times with Scarlet, her son, James, and some great fluff between Scarlet and Arthur! Buckle up cause it’s a loooooooong chapter! There’s lots of stuff goin on in this one.
Warnings: Cursing, typical gang violence, mentions of drinking, sexual references/innuendos, general dangers of rodeos (bull riding, bronco riding, etc), mentions of pick-pocketing, betting, mentions of bush whacking
Start here: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620167374619951104/of-outlaws-and-family-chapter-one-new-beginnings
Last Chapter: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620331349279145984/of-outlaws-and-family
Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are appreciated!
My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.
Word Count: 14, 837
“Dutch!” Scarlet jumps off Shamrock and runs into camp with a piece of paper in her hand. Dutch steps out of his tent, cigar in hand as he raises a brow at her. “Dutch, oh, Dutch! You gotta see this!” She slows as she nearly runs into him, his free hand on her shoulder to steady her. He nods to the paper.
“What’s got you so excited? Find a treasure map?”
“What? Nah, something even better!” She shakes her head at his silly question. “No. Rhodes is hosting a rodeo!” She squeals, opening the folded paper, revealing a flyer for a rodeo.
“Darlin’, not to be a downer, but I just ain’t seeing why you think going to this is a good idea. Hosea and I are wanted men, we can’t just drop everything we’re working on to play rancher in front of people,” he scans the paper, taking it from her. Her happy demeanor deflates a bit before she’s smiling again.
“I get that. Look, I’m not sayin that ya gotta come out and be there, but there’s loads of opportunity for money! There’s cash prizes for fastest horse in a few categories, then there’s prizes for perfect scores, and even longest rides. At least for the bronco and bull ridin events it’s the longest time,” she quickly explains, trying to reason with the stubborn leader. He wipes a hand over his mustache, glancing between Scarlet’s puppy pleading green eyes and the flyer in his hand. He sighs.
“Stop with that kicked puppy look,” he reads over the flyer again.
“Dutch,” she calls, waiting for him to look back at her. When he does she smiles, “I know I can win several of the listed events. I’ve been ridin nearly my whole life. Bulls ain’t so different from broncs, just a bit wider and not as tall. I promise it’s worth it. Just let me go and enter an send your best pick pockets with me. There’s always loads of people at rodeos. Loads of rich, stupid, drunk people,” she persuades, watching his body language for signs of defeat. When he relaxes his shoulders she knows she’s won.
“Talk to the guys and see if anyone would be interested in any of the other events,” Dutch orders, holding up the flyer. “Mind if I have this to look over?”
“No, no, not at all! Take it, Dutch. I’m gonna go ask them now. Oh. Is, uhh, is Arthur here?” She asks, the excitement now drained from her voice. Dutch’s lips quirk a bit, knowing they were sweet on each other, even if they hadn’t noticed it themselves yet.
“No, Pearson asked if he could go hunting. We’re getting low on food,” he answers with a smile, pointing towards the back of the camp.
Scarlet takes his leave as dismissal and heads over to the cliff, looking into the valley below. Sure enough, Arthur’s got his bow out, creeping up on a small herd of deer. She scoffs as he draws the string back and lets it go. He quickly notches another arrow and manages to drop two deer back to back. “Show off,” she mutters to herself.
Scarlet’s in the middle of switching saddles and horses when James runs up to her, arms wrapping tight around her legs. “Mama! Can I go to the rodeo with you too? Please? I wanna see you ride the horses and a bull!” He begs, green eyes bright and pleading. She rubs his head, playing with his hair.
“Who told you bout that?” She asks, looking down at him. He grins and lets go of her to pet Fancy.
“Uncle John and Uncle Javier were talkin about goin an they mentioned you was,” he innocently replies, hugging the mare’s neck. Scarlet crosses her arms and rests her weight on her right foot, chewing her bottom lip.
“Maybe. It depends on who is going to be there, Sweetheart,” she finally answers, leaning over to ruffle his hair. He yelps in surprise and swats at his mother’s hands, running away from her. She laughs and finishes putting Fancy’s old saddle on her; leather worn and tattered from years of wear and rough riding. Fancy, knowing which saddle she was now wearing, tosses her head and paws the ground anxiously. “Easy girl, we’re headin out later,” she settles the old mare. James runs back up to her, Arthur following behind him. The cowboy gives Scarlet a curious look as he approaches, looking at Fancy’s saddle change.
“What’s with the get up? You running away already?” He jokes, gesturing to Fancy.
“Hah, as if. You an ol’ Dutch ain’t gonna just let me up an go,” she snorts at him. He wants to say something against her, but he knows she’s right. “Anyway, there’s a rodeo bein held in Rhodes. I figure since it’s in a few days, I’ll just head that way now an get a room, just stay at the hotel there so I’m not ridin any of the horses the day of,” she explains and walks with them back into camp. James runs off to Abigail and John’s tent, asking for Jack. Scarlet smiles at that, happy he has someone to play with, even if Jack is four years younger.
“M’kay, ya got us there. What’s a rodeo though?” He asks as she sits down at one of the tables, pulling a can of peaches from her bag. She slices the top and pries it up, stabbing a peach slice before answering.
“It’s a big event where people, usually cowboys and ranchers, gather to show their skills. There’s steer ropin, team ropin, bronc bustin, bull ridin, an a lot of other different activities. My Ma used to take Fancy to the barrel races. We ain’t had a horse beat her record yet. Least, not that I’ve heard. But she’s gettin old an I know Shamrock is a lot faster than she is, he’s just not as skilled. Where Fancy is elegant, Shamrock is clumsy. He takes his turns too wide. But he’s still faster than her time, even bein as such,” she explains, eating the peach from her knife. Arthur tenses a moment, fearful she’ll cut herself. She hums and offers him a slice, which he refuses.
“So what events are you going to be in, Miss O’Hara?” He inquires, watching her carefully so she doesn’t cut herself.
“Probably my usual; bronc bustin, bull ridin, barrels, an pole bendin,” She states matter-of-factly. Arthur hums out a positive affirmation. “Broncs have two categories, saddles an bareback. Saddled is easier because, well, you’re in a saddle. Bareback is obviously harder, like if you’re breaking a horse out in the country, no lead or nothing. They give you a riggin to hold on to, but that’s it. It’s basically a heavy rein. That’s all you get. The goal is to stay on for minimum of eight seconds; for broncs an bulls, but if you can go longer, the better your score an points.”
“So it’s a gatherin for stupid people, who pretend to be cowboys an ranchers, to watch other stupid people pretend to be cowboys an ranchers?” Arthur summarizes, smiling at her.
“Well now, I didn’t know you thought I was stupid, Morgan. Here I thought we made a pretty decent team!” She feigns hurt, stabbing another peach from the can. She maintains eyes contact as she bites the fruit from her knife, letting out a soft moan at the sweet taste. Arthur’s skin flushes a light pink and he coughs to clear his throat.
“I’d never! Weren’t talkin bout you, Darlin’. But that’s just how it sounds for the majority. I’ve seen you work, you’re the real deal,” he chuckles as she nods at his praise; she leans the open can towards him, holding her knife by the blade in offering. He rolls his eyes but takes both, eating a few slices before passing them back to her.
“Well in that case, will you ride with me? I don’t know if I wanna bring James but if you’ll be there I’ll feel better ‘bout him taggin along,” she admits, playing with her knife before taking out a green handkerchief to clean it. He studies her a moment, weighing his options.
“What’s Dutch think of you runnin off to do this?”
“Dutch? Aha, I swayed him. There’s good money in it if you win events. Ample opportunity to pick pocket old, rich, drunk bastards too,” she shrugs and tips the can to drink the juice. “So, Arthur, will you ride with me?”
“When you plan on leavin?”
“Probably this afternoon. I gotta go get Shasta. He’s good at the pole bendin. If you’re decent, we can sign up for the team ropin! We both ride our horse in the pen they have set up and have to rope a steer. One of us ropes the horns and the other it’s back legs, then we face each other and back our horses up so the ropes are nice and tight and it can’t get away,” she explains, slipping her knife back in its holster.
“You got me. I’ll go. Not sure if you want me in the competition, but I’ll ride wit’chu,” he agrees and nods. “Besides, I wanna see what this bronc bustin is. Seems like you’re real excited for it.”
“Oh I am, Cowboy. Bronco bustin is a favorite of mine. The wild, young stallions with too much spirit are my favorites,” she winks at him, getting up from the table. “You’ll need a new saddle if you do plan to enter any events,” she calls over her shoulder as she heads for her wagon to finish getting ready.
Dutch helps Scarlet onto her wagon, handing her back the flyer. She watches him silently, studying his expression. He looks up at her, taking hold of her hand.
“You do well to keep my boys in line, ya hear? Don’t let them go makin fools of themselves out there,” he prompts her, watching as she laughs.
“Keep’em in check and show’em how a real hustler works their magic, aye. I’ll do my best, but remember I’m actually in most the events. I wouldn’t worry too much though, I’ve got Arthur and that Silver Fox of yours, Hosea. I think with those two I can handle the rest. The girls shouldn’t be an issue, but I’ll keep an eye on them,” she squeezes his hand reassuringly as they lock eyes. “You have my word, Dutch.”
“Alright. You do well then too. Keep me updated on how things go. We’ll be waiting for your return,” he gives his approval as he lets her go.
Everyone ready?” She turns to the group in the back. Her eyes roam over the small group: John, Abigail, Jack, James, Javier, Tilly, Sean, and Mary-Beth.
“I think so, everyone’s here,” Abigail sends Scarlet a smile, arms secure over both boys’ shoulders. “They’re settled in for the ride.” The others nod their confirmation and Scarlet turns back to Dutch, tipping her hat to him.
“We ready?” Arthur joins her in the front of the wagon, taking the reins.
“Yeah, Daddy Dutch just gave us his blessing,” she winks teasingly at Dutch who crosses his arms.
“Very funny, Miss O’Hara,” Dutch calls as he steps back from the wagon, scoffing at her audacity. Molly gets up from his cot, moving to stand by him just outside his tent.
“You know you love me,” she hums, scooting closer to Arthur on the bench as she removes her revolver from her belt and sets it between their feet on the footrest.
“You be safe, Miss O’Hara,” Molly waves as Arthur cracks the reins. Shasta and Shamrock toss their heads and pull the wagon around the camp, weaving around the other tents and set up.
“Always, Miss O’Shea!” Scarlet hollers back, throwing a hand up in a wave as they head into the trees. She whistles and Fancy and the blood bay follow them from the hitching posts, both saddled up and ready to ride. Arthur slows them as they pass Sadie and Charles, Sadie turning over guard duty.
“Where y’all off too?” She pets Fancy who nickers at her, prancing in place.
“Rodeo is Rhodes. Ever been to one?” Scarlet leans over the side, one hand on Arthur’s leg to keep her tethered to the wagon.
“Acourse I’ve been to a rodeo. Need another rider for anythin?” Sadie asks, shouldering her rifle.
“You any good at Steer Ropin? Javier could use a good partner. I’m not bad but I’m not great either,” the red head admits. Sadie’s eyes light up as she nods.
“Yeah, I reckon I’m as decent as any man,” she claims, brushing the mustang’s mane with her hands.
“Run tell Dutch you’re coming with and hop on the blood bay there,” she invites the blonde, leaning back into the seat. The others whistle for their horses while they wait for Sadie.
The ride to Rhodes is a long one, even with a wagon. Scarlet enlightens everyone on all the activities and events at a rodeo, Sadie and Javier jumping in for clarification or to add something she forgot.
Sadie keeps an eye out for any raiders and makes sure Fancy, Boaz, Smoke, Ennis, and Old Boy are keeping up with the wagon. She keeps them calm and whistles for them if they ever are falling behind, slowing the thoroughbred to make sure they can find their way and to make sure the horses aren’t ambushed and stolen.
Scarlet makes sure she’s always touching Arthur in some way, be it her leg pressed up against his, her hand on his leg, her arm looped through his, or even leaning on him for a nap. He doesn’t mind, allowing it after a questioning glance the first time he noticed she was doing it.
“Here we are. Rhodes. You think they’ll be enough rooms for the lot of us?” Arthur glances at Scarlet then back to the small town.
“Dunno. I can run in an ask real quick. Wait out here,” she orders as she starts climbing down the wagon before he has it stopped. He yells after her, something about waiting for him to stop the horses before jumping off recklessly. She just grins as she lands in Fancy’s saddle. They wait patiently in the wagon until she rides back up, having to pull up hard on Fancy so she almost bucks to a stop.
“So what’d they say?” Arthur leans over the side, hand outstretched for her to take. She grabs his forearm, locking her hand around it as he does the same and pulls her up with a grunt.
“Said they got two rooms. I went ahead an rented one for the boys; Jack and James, and the other for John and Abigail. The rest of us can camp just outside of town here. That is, if that set up works for y’all?” She raises a brow at the group. They share looks as John and Abigail look at each other. She tilts her head to the left and her brows furrow.
“That’s fine, thank you, Scarlet. Jack can stay with us if you want the other room with James,” Abigail speaks up, running her fingers through her son’s hair. James looks up at his mother expectantly.
“You sure?” The red head inquires, motioning for James to move up to the front with her. He does so and sits on the side of her so she’s between him and Arthur.
“Yeah. We are a family after all,” Abigail confirms with a nod of her head. Scarlet nods and turns back to the front, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. She points to the clearing back by one entrance of the small town, instructing Arthur to pull the wagon up there.
They all unload the wagon and pitch the small tents Scarlet pre-purchased, when she went to pick up Shasta, and brought along. Tilly and Mary-Beth take a tent, Sean and Javier take another, Hosea and Arthur in one, and Sadie gets her own.
“What are we gonna do for food?” Mary-Beth questions, clapping her hands together as Javier gets a small fire going.
“Arthur and I can go hunt. He’s not too poor a shot,” John volunteers, playfully jabbing at the older man. Arthur rolls his eyes and grins.
“Maybe we’ll run into your friends, the wolves,” he quips back, walking over to Smoke to retrieve his bow and rifle.
“On second thought-”
“Nope, you already volunteered. Let’s go,” Arthur grabs the back of John’s shirt, preventing him from trying to get out of hunting.
“You ain’t gotta worry bout wolves out this way. Just coyotes. But they’re more scared of you, usually,” Scarlet offers in partial consolation. He deadpans at her and she laughs along with the others. “Just sayin. Maybe you’ll have better luck havin a run-in with them.”
Arthur pulls John along with him until he shrugs him off to grab his own rifle from his horse. They walk through the fields, Arthur looking for tracks, scat, or fur. When they come close to the tree line they stop, several deer grazing along the woods.
“Let’s see if we can get two,” John whispers, pulling his rifle up to look through the scope. “There’s a buck scratching his antlers on a tree, you see him?”
“Yeah I see him,” Arthur sets his scope on the white coated buck John sees. “You wanna take him?”
“Nah, there’s another one a little ways down to the right. I’ll get that one. Just let me know when you’ve got a shot lined up, I don’t wanna be tracking these things all night if it’s not a solid kill,” John huffs and focuses on his buck. “I’ve got a clean shot.”
“Me too.”
Two gunshots sound, almost in sync. Sadie and Scarlet look up, eyes searching the source.
“Abigail, stay here with them. We’ll be right back,” Scarlet says and gets to her feet, Sadie on her heels. They quickly mount up, Sadie on the blood bay and Scarlet on Smoke, and head over to the field where the shots came from. Scarlet laughs as she sees John and Arthur hauling bucks over their shoulders.
“Let’s go help them,” she states, slowing Smoke from his gallop to a walk. He instantly obeys, making a bee line for Arthur when he sees him. “Good boy,” she praises him as he stops a few feet away from Arthur, neighing. He looks up at Scarlet in his saddle and raises a brow before tying the buck onto the back.
“Now where am I supposed to sit?” He chides playfully. Scarlet glances at John and Sadie, who are tying his buck on the back of the other thoroughbred, before slipping her boots from the stirrups and sliding her body almost completely onto the horn of the saddle. Arthur gapes at her a minute before chortling, putting one foot in the stirrups and pulling himself into the saddle. Once he’s settled, Scarlet sits back, sitting half on his lap and half on the saddle.
“See? There’s always room if you know how to double,” she tips her head back to look at him, green eyes bright with mirth. He shakes his head as he smiles at her, taking the reins from her hands.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters. Sadie and John have a similar set up, though Sadie is sitting on the very back of the saddle with the deer behind her.
“Lucky an cute, I ain’t. Charmin an sassy, I am,” she replies and clicks her tongue, Smoke listening to her command.
“Oh, so now my horse listens to you?”
“For the most part. He’s such a good boy. I’m sure he’d do well in barrels or pole bending,” she expresses, leaning forward to rub the dark grey thoroughbred’s neck. “Ain’t that right? Yeah, you’re a good boy,” she cooes to him before straightening herself back in the saddle as best she can without rubbing against Arthur too much. “He was the closest horse to me. I thought you were using bows, not rifles. We wanted to make sure y’all’s a’right.”
“Aww how sweet,” he leans his chest against her back, breathing on her ear as he whispers, “you was worried bout me.”
“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes and pushes back against him. “Acourse I worry. I already told y’all, you’re my boys. Can’t let anything happen to y’all, I’m too emotionally invested. So’s the boy,” she chews her lip and holds onto the horn; she can feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she posts with him, moving in tandem with Smoke’s even strides.
Scarlet helps the two men skin and field dress the deer a bit away from camp before they bring them back to cook. Sadie pulls out oregano and mint from one of the saddlebags and helps Abigail get it cooking. They all chat idly around the fire, the boys playing in the mud.
The small group settles into a content silence as they eat, the two boys settling into the wagon to play with the dominoes, courtesy of Tilly, once they’re done eating. Sadie leans on the wagon, watching and smiling as Scarlet and Arthur sit with their boots knocking against each others.
“Hey, Scarl!”
The Irish-blooded woman looks up from her deer sandwich and tilts her head. Sadie waves her over and she frowns, wiping the bread crumbs from her pants as she stands up. She bends down, whispering something to Arthur who nods, and brings her food over to the wagon.
“You need something?” Scarlet asks the blonde woman, leaning on the wagon beside her, crossing her right ankle over her left. She pops the last bite into her mouth.
“Just wanted to ask about you and Arthur. What’s goin on there? You look like a love struck puppy,” Sadie teases, watching Scarlet cough, slightly choking on the food.
“What makes you say that?!” She starts, graciously taking the offered brandy and downing it. She stares at her friend, wide eyed and a little shocked at the bluntness of her question. “He’s a...he’s a good friend, a gentleman,” she states.
“Uh huh. That why you’ve both been sittin so close to each other an ridin together?” Sadie sasses, smile growing as Scarlet tries to find a comeback, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Look, Sadie, he’s just a friend. Nothin more,” she sighs, playing with the empty brandy bottle in her hand. She tosses it under the wagon and uncrosses her feet, letting her back lean fully on the cart. “I have my son to think about. That’s my main priority.”
Sadie nods, acknowledging Scarlet, but keeps quiet. She knows that she’s pushed a little much but she got what she needed from Scarlet. Sadie pats her shoulder and gestures to where she had been sitting. “Go on, sit and talk. I’ll watch the boys.”
“Thanks, Sadie.”
Hosea looks up as Scarlet leaves to see Sadie. He smiles and turns to Arthur, setting his beer down. “Anythin goin on between you two that I should warn Dutch about? We ain’t gonna be worryin bout any mini Morgans are we, Arthur?” The silver fox asks, nodding to Scarlet when aforementioned cowboy looks up. Arthur nearly drops his beer in shock, spitting some of it out. He stares at Hosea like he’s crazy.
“Old Man, just what you on bout now? Ain’t nothin gon’ on between us. We’re just friends, she’s a decent outlaw of a woman,” he admits, swishing around the beer in his bottle.
“You sure bout t’at, Art’ur? You two seem ta be really close. Like, really, close. Weren’t she just in yer lap when you brought t’at there deer back?” Sean chimes in, tossing his empty bottle to the side and reaching for another.
“Yeah. We work well together, what do you want me to say?” Arthur asks, directing his attention to Hosea, completely dismissing Sean’s second question.
“That you are sweet on her, even if only a little? If you won’t be honest with us, at least be honest about it with yourself,” Abigail scolds, tucked into John’s side by the camp fire. He regards them a moment, nodding to himself.
“I care about her, just like I care about any of you,” he admits, watching as Abigail and Tilly frown at his words. He laughs as they throw blades of grass at him. “Okay, so maybe I like her a little,” he freezes momentarily at the looks the group give him collectively, “okay a lot more than I let on. An yes I am sweet on her, but she don’t want no part of bein with an outlaw..”
“Oh you let on more than you think,” John chuckles.
“Apparently, if you can see it,” Arthur retorts.
“Have you tried actually talkin to her about it, Arthur?” Tilly asks, setting her coffee cup by her feet. The outlaw scratches his neck, shaking his head.
“Bout what? Me likin her? Nah. She’s got James, an I guess his father is still in the picture. No need to involve myself where I might get hurt,” he sighs and leans back. He chugs the rest of his beer and motions for Sean or Hosea to pass him another.
“Why don’t you just ask her an see? I’m sure you’ll be surprised. You don’t see how she isn’t as happy an herself without you around camp. When Dutch asked her to stay and talk to him the other day? When you went into Valentine with Uncle and the girls? She helped us just fine but she didn’t really talk to anyone unless it was necessary. Well, she talked to Sadie an Abigail, and the boys of course. Everyone else she pretty much ignored. Dutch and myself included. Didn’t even bother to instigate with that O’Driscoll boy you brought back to Colter either,” Hosea reveals and hands him another bottle.
“Just...Oh, Arthur, just think about it will you?” Abigail pleads, hugging John’s arm tight as she stares at the older man. Arthur sighs and nods his head, throwing his hands up in surrender.
“Alright. I’ll think on it,” he pops the top off his bottle. He reflexively scoots over when Scarlet comes back over, taking up her spot beside him on the log again. Hosea and Tilly give Arthur a look and he rolls his eyes, sending them glares.
“Sadie said she’ll watch the boys for a little. I think I’ll take them to the hotel in a bit to get a bath before bed though, if that’s alright with y’all?” Scarlet nods to Abigail and John, offhandedly asking for permission.
“Oh, a bath sounds nice! Don’t you think, John?” Abigail croons, pressing against his side. He glances up at Scarlet who nods before he looks down at his wife.
“Uhh, yeah, sure. A bath,” John answers, scanning their group for a possible way out. He sighs and gets up, pulling his arm from Abigail’s hold before holding his hand out to her. “Shall we go take a bath, Abigail?”
Scarlet and Sean make eye contact and immediately “Ooooooh,” at the couple as they head away from camp. John turns back and drags his thumb across his neck and points to them before Abigail grabs Jack from the wagon and they disappear into the town. The Irish duo crack up and Sean hands her a whiskey bottle.
“To being free and not tied down!” He cheers and knocks back his drink. Javier, Tilly, and Mary-Beth follow suit, draining their drinks. Scarlet looks at Arthur and Hosea, offering her bottle and motioning to their own drinks in question.
“Y’all are married or were?” She speaks over the crackle of the fire, watching the shadows dance across Hosea’s face. The old man nods and leans forward so his elbows are on his knees.
“Once, a long time ago. My sweet Bessie and I were together for awhile. I stepped away from the gang for a few years, back when it was just Dutch, Arthur, and myself. Arthur, we picked him up when he was bout fourteen, fifteen. I don’t think he remembers her much, or me leaving. But as things always do, I drifted back into it. She knew what I was and how it went, but we somehow made it work. She passed away many years ago. I was drunk for about a year after,” Hosea clears his throat and takes a swig of his drink, eyes downcast. Arthur shoves up from the log and stalks over to the wagon, saying something to Sadie who joins them at the fire. Hosea sighs and pats Scarlet’s knee, motioning to Arthur with his bottle.
“Did I- is he okay?” She looks at Hosea with furrowed brows.
“He’s been through a lot. It’s not something you can just get over,” the silver fox explains. The trio watch as James leans over the side of wagon, tapping Arthur’s arm. The two seem to talk and Arthur strikes a match, lighting a cigarette. Scarlet squeezes Hosea’s hand that’s still on her knee, giving him a small nod of affirmation.
“I’ll talk to him. It’s not good to keep it bottled up...I know better than most,” she mumbles as she makes her way to her wagon.
She quietly climbs into the back with James. “Son, go sit with Mrs. Adler and Mister Hosea. I’m gon’ talk with Arthur a moment.”
“Yes, Ma. Bye, Mr. Morgan, thank you! I can’t wait to get home!” The boy cheers and clambers down from the cart, headed for Sadie. Scarlet takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, climbing to sit sideways on the front, staring at the sunset with Arthur. They’re both silent, Arthur taking slow drags from his cigarette and Scarlet staring at the horizon, deep in thought.
“Wanna talk ‘bout it? I don’t know what I said to upset you, but I’m sorry,” she apologizes, voice soft. She turns her head as he snuffs out the cigarette on the bottom of his boot. He doesn’t answer, just leans on the wagon with his hat tilted down. She picks at her jeans, worn with age and often wear. Arthur turns to her, hand gently resting on hers, stilling her fidgeting.
“It’s a long story, Darlin’. Maybe some other time. And it’s not what you said, it’s what they did,” he finally speaks, voice gruff as though he were on the verge of tears.
She immediately opens her arms as she slides down from the wagon seat. Arthur takes her up on her offer, wrapping his arms around her as she does the same. He buries his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent and trying to calm his racing heart. They stay like that, Scarlet wrapped tight in his arms with her hold on him just as tight, her breathing helping slow his as he tries to sync his frantic beating heart with her steady one.
“We have three days, and you know where I sleep,” she comments, chin resting on his sternum as she looks up at him. He pulls back a little to look down at her.
“I know. You’ll be in one of them rooms at the hotel,” he replies, dipping his head a little. “Forgive me fer askin, but what room numbers?”
“Why? Plannin on payin me a midnight visit?” She teases and steps back as he finally lets go of his hold on her. She hesitates in letting go, but her arms eventually slip from around his ribcage.
Scarlet startles awake, glancing around the room as she momentarily forgets her bearings. She sits up as the same sound repeats, a trio of knocks on the door. She grabs her hunting knife from her belt that’s draped over the dresser. Sleepily, she makes her way to the door, trying to stifle a yawn. She unlocks the door and opens it, knife poised in her left hand, hidden behind the door.
“Arthur?” She yawns, relaxing and ushering him inside. He ducks his head in embarrassment as he steps into the room, minding to be quiet when he sees James asleep on the bed.
“I uhh, I was wonderin if you wanted to talk?” He asked shyly, taking a hesitant seat on the bed when she gestures to it, slipping her knife back in its holster.
“Come, come. Lay with us an we’ll talk,” she offers, climbing back into the bed, scooting close to James, leaving enough room for Arthur to lie down to her left. He goes to protest but her sleepy glare has him taking his boots and jacket off.
“You said it’s not good to hold these things in so I figured that I’d tell you,” he starts, slowly crawling up the bed, lying on his side to face her. She pulls the blanket up to her shoulders, tucking it under her left arm as she faces him.
“It’s not, and I’m not pushin you, Arthur. If you don’t wanna talk about it, you don’t have too. I’ll sit here with you in silence if ya want. No promises I won’t fall asleep on you though,” she yawns again as she curls her legs up. He nods and relaxes back against the wall, holding his arm up for her to scoot in and cuddle.
“Like I said, it’s a long story. Might as well be comfortable,” he informs her when she gives him a puzzled look. She laughs lightly and nods, moving closer to him, resting her head on his chest, left arm resting on his shoulder. He pulls her left leg over his waist, fixing the blanket after he does so, letting his hands rest on her lower back and on her left calf, holding her leg in place over him.
“Take your time,” she encourages, moving her left hand to cradle his head, scratching at his scalp with her nails. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tries to figure out where to start his story.
“Like Hosea said, he and Dutch ran into me when I was young. I was a delinquent, rough and wild as they come. They took me in and taught me what they knew, even taught me to read. I’ve been with them for nearly twenty years, maybe more. But I had a girl once, we weren’t married but I did get her pregnant. A nice waitress I met, Eliza. She gave me a little boy, Isaac. I told her I couldn’t promise her a good life, she seemed to understand. I’d send money and every few months I’d stop in for a few days to see them, spend some time with them, yanno?” He lets out a shaky breath. Scarlet nods against him, her hand in his hair slowly tracing patterns on his scalp to try and calm him.
“If it’s too much, you ain’t gotta talk ‘bout it,” she whispers, tilting her head to look up at him. He looks down at her, green eyes filled with concern for him. He shakes his head and squeezes her calf.
“One day when I rode up, I saw two crosses outside the house, one smaller than the other. It didn’t take me long to figure out they were robbed. All for ten dollars,” his tone is laced with venom as he spits out the last sentence, face scrunching in anger momentarily. Scarlet stays silent as she tries to think of what to say. She knows loosing someone you love, or even just care for deeply, isn’t easy. She tells him as much.
“Look, we can’t keep living in the past, wishin things were different. They’re over an it’s not like we can change them, no matter how bad we wanna. I know. I’ve tried. Ran myself into the ground for years while riddled with guilt that wasn’t mine to bear,” she soothes, her right arm curling about his own under her. “Be sad an mourn them, yes, but don’t allow that to cloud yer judgement an prevent you from doin things. Especially if it’s somethin ya really wanna do.”
It’s Arthur’s turn to be quiet, letting her perspective sink in. He nods and rubs up and down her calf soothingly, meeting her eyes once again. She’s smiling and he can’t help but smile too as they stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments.
“I guess you’re right. Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. Just stormin off like that; it wasn’t fair to you. It’s not your fault they brought it up. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine me even having the chance to have that again,” his voice cracks as he holds her a little tighter, a little closer to him. She pauses scratching his scalp and sighs, nuzzling against his chest.
“To have that closeness with someone again? Yeah, me too,” she softly admits between yawns. Arthur moves his hand from her hip to her head, holding it against his chest as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. She lets her eyes flutter close as he gently starts to rub her back.
Scarlet doesn’t remember falling asleep, or waking up at four in the morning either. So the surprise of waking up in Arthur’s warm embrace shocks her a little. She’s up before James, which is another surprise to her; she immediately turns over and gently shakes Arthur, whispering softly to him to prevent startling him.
“Come on, Arthur, get up,” she croons, gently shaking his shoulder. He turns his head and grumbles under his breath in his sleep, arm moving to wrap her up. His eyes flutter open as something blocks his arm from his cuddle buddy.
“What the?” His voice is rough, riddled thick with sleep. Scarlet subconsciously licks her lips as she hears it, eyes darting to his lips before back to his face. She huffs out a quiet laugh at his slightly confused expression.
“Mornin, Cowboy. I think it’s best you go get ready for the day, James’ll be up soon and then we won’t hear the end of how you were ‘sharin a bed with Ma at the rodeo’,” she muses in delight, hand tracing lightly over his chest. She’s made no effort to even dislodge herself from his hold, despite her claim for him to get up.
It’s about ten minutes of them idly talking before Arthur finally slips from the bed and pulls his boots back on, telling her that he was going to check on the others. He’s closing the door as quiet as he can, trying not to wake James, when a gasp behind him startles him.
“Arthur Morgan!” Abigail scolds lightly, quietly; eyes wide as she glances down at Jack. Arthur’s gaze meets hers and he half shrugs at her.
“What?”
“I know I did not just see you coming out of Scarlet’s room,” she grits out as she stares at him hard, eyes cutting through him. “Not with James in there.”
“Jesus, Abigail! No. I came by to talk to her, ‘at’s all. I, the others...Last night a few of them drank to “being free and not tied down”,” he explains as he shuffles awkwardly under Abigail’s scrutinizing gaze. She nods and opens the bedroom door for Jack to go back in to wake up John.
“It brought up Eliza and Isaac, didn’t it?” She lowers her voice, tone softening greatly. Arthur nods and brings his hat to his head, adjusting it to his liking.
“Yeah. Yeah it did. I told her. I told her about them, about it all,” he voice is barely a whisper, gruff, the start of almost tears evident. Abigail nods and moves to him, resting a hand on his shoulder, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
“I’m proud of you. I know that’s not easy to talk about. Just stay honest with her. Did she say anything about James’ father and his role?” She changes the melancholy subject, stepping back a couple steps.
“No. We just talked a bit bout Eliza an Isaac. She didn’t bring him up,” he replies softly, eyes warm as he meets Abigail’s. “I’ll ask her later, she’s getting ready. I’m gon’ make sure everyone else is up and ready for the day.”
John steps out of the room, pulling his coat on. “Let’s go then.”
By the time John and Arthur make it back to the tents, everyone is up and they all share glances before smirking at them. Arthur groans and points at Hosea.
“Not one word. I was talking with Scarlet and Abigail,” he states before anyone can ask him anything. They shrug and make room for him around the fire, passing the coffee pot around.
Scarlet, Abigail, and the boys join the rest of them not too long after, both boys running towards Hosea. They show him their books and sit on either side of him as he offers to sit and read with them. Scarlet’s heart melts at the sight, wishing James’ father was willing to be as accepting as this gang. She’s done her fair amount of research on Dutch and his gang. As far as she was concerned, they were nothing like what the papers and people were saying. She trusts them with her life.
“What’s the plan for today?” Javier asks as he passes Scarlet the pot for coffee. She thanks him and pours herself a cup before taking up the only available seat, beside Arthur.
“Mm they should have everything set up by tonight. Which means they might start the events tonight or tomorrow. Regardless, I figured we could go take a look at the bulls and broncos they have for the events. If I remember correctly the townsfolk said that they were bringin in bout five different broncs and at least three different bulls,” she replies and looks around at the people she’s slowly started calling her family. She smiles, her eyes lingering on Hosea with the boys, their laughter drifting over to her.
“Have you signed up yet?” Sadie sits down at Scarlet’s feet, leaning back on her legs. Scarlet looks down at her and shakes her head.
“No, not yet. They won’t let us sign up this early, and from my experience I have to have a man with me vouchin that he’s my guardian or partner and he expresses his permission for me to participate,” she rolls her eyes and cradles her coffee mug in front of her face, blowing on the steaming liquid.
“What?” Scarlet turns to Arthur, John, and Javier at their outburst; they’re all looking at her in disbelief.
“You didn’t tell us that,” Arthur raises a brow as he sets his now empty coffee on the ground. “Why?”
“Didn’t think it necessary. If y’all wouldn’t’ve come with me I’d’ve just done what I always do. Pinned my hair up and pretended I was my brother,” she smirks, shrugging at him. “No need to bug anyone if y’all woulda had better things to do.”
“Oh, Sweetheart, if you’d ask I bet any of the men at camp would have gone with you even if Dutch had told you no,” Abigail laughs. The men all look at each other then away, rubbing their necks at being called out. The females giggle at them and Scarlet nudges Arthur’s knee.
“I know at least two would, the others I’m not sure about,” she teases back, stealing a glance at Arthur who quickly looks away when their eyes meet. He clears his throat and claps his hands on his knees.
“Well, are we going to go see how far they’re set up?” He suggests as he pushes up from the log, holding a hand to Scarlet. He pulls her up and the rest of them follow suit, Jack and James jumping up when they see everyone else heading towards them.
Scarlet leaves them a little bit after they’ve checked out the last pen, excusing herself by stating she needed to get dressed for the event. James gives her a hug before she goes, telling her to wear his favorite of her outfits; she smiles and agrees, giving the others a wink as she heads back to the hotel.
By dusk, everyone is ready to watch Scarlet compete. They are cheering her name as the announcer calls out all the competitors, hers being the last one since she was the last to sign up for each event. In the end, Hosea had been the one who went with her to register, saying she was his daughter to compete for him since he was too old.
Arthur has James on his shoulders, Jack on John’s, as they make their way over to the fence, letting the boys sit on the top post. Abigail and the other women head off to try their luck at pick-pocketing people, not too interested in the competition until it’s Scarlet’s turn. Hosea leaves the two men with the boys, going to place bets on Scarlet for the bronc and bull riding, with the money she gave him to do so.
James whoops and throws his hands up as Scarlet rides out on Shasta, the stallion bucking a little with the other competitors. Jack cheers and claps along with Arthur and John. They competitors ride around the pen, waving to everyone before being huddled in a circle.
She’s dressed in a black, long sleeve top with red fringe down the arms and along the sides and on the front, across her chest with matching black chaps, also with red fringe down the outside seam of the legs. She’s wearing the hat Arthur bought for her too, black boots with silver spurs completing her look. Arthur stares.
“Alright! Is everyone ready?” The rodeo announcer yells loud enough to silence the crowd. They all move closer to listen. “We’re gonna be startin off with the Broncs! Saddled then unsaddled! Then bull ridin followed by steer ropin! We have our bronc riders here, so give them all a warm welcome!” He cheers and runs from the small platform he’s on to discuss rules and terms with the bronc riders.
Afterwards, the group of eight, Scarlet included, turn their horses and trot out of the pen. Scarlet walks Shasta over to her group and slides from the saddle, hitching him to a nearby tree. She braces herself as James and Jack barrel into her. She laughs as they hug her legs and James mumbles something about not ever saying ‘I love you’ enough. She silences him with a hug and kiss to his temple. She ushers them back over to the fence and joins them on the top post, Arthur leaning on it and towards her as they wait her turn.
“Oh! There goes O’Malley, at five seconds in! Not long enough to make the cut, unfortunately!” Arthur tunes out the announcer and clears his throat, nudging Scarlet’s thigh with his shoulder.
“Nice getup,” he comments, side-eyeing her. She tips her hat back and looks down at him, hands resting firmly on the post to steady herself.
“Thanks. It was my mother’s; back when she used to race Fancy. Red and black are our lucky colors,” she replies, turning back to the ring to watch the next competitor. He’s thrown, right out of the gate, and they laugh.
“When are you up?” Arthur asks, hand playing with some of her fringe. She glances at him, her dark wash jeans peeking through the sides of the chaps.
“I’ll be last since I was the last to sign up. I’ll need to go to the other side after the next couple of guys get tossed though,” she explains, pointing out the small area where they rodeo hands where locking the horse back in. “They’re doing unsaddled first, which is good and bad. Good that it’s out of the way, bad because they’ll know they’ll have somethin to hold on to other than just the riggin.”
“Which is easier for you?”
“Unsaddled or saddled? They’re both pretty easy if you know what you’re doin. Breaking horses is easy, you saw my skill when we broke those thoroughbreds,” she smiles and pushes against his arm with her leg. “Just watch, relax, an enjoy yourself here. Hosea go make bets?”
“Yeah, I think he said he was going to place some on you,” John answers, helping Jack off the fence. “We’ll be back, Jack’s gotta piss.” Scarlet waves at them, fringe dancing as her arm moves, turning back to Arthur and James.
“James, wanna go see the bull I’ll be riding later?” She asks, wrapping her right arm around his shoulders. He eagerly nods up at her and grins, eyes bright.
“Can I?”
“Sure. We’ll go once I’m done with these two events, alright?” She kisses his forehead and hops off the fence. “I reckon I best get over there before I get called out.” She starts to head back to the other side of the fence. She doesn’t get far.
“Wait, Scarlet!” Arthur grabs her hand and tugs her back into his chest. He grins sheepishly down at her and pulls out a red neckerchief that coincidentally matches her outfit. He ties it around her neck and nods. “For good luck,” he prompts. Her fingers brush over the soft fabric and she smiles up at him.
“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll keep it as a reminder that we, together as one, broke six horses in a matter of twelve hours,” she chuckles as she starts walking backwards, her spurs jingling with each step. Arthur watches her as she spins on her heel and gets ushered to the other side of the corral by some rodeo hands.
“Ma likes you, ya know, Mister? I haven’t seen her smile like that in a few years,” James hums as he glances at Arthur.
“Yeah? You think?”
“I know. I overheard her one day, talkin to Papa Dennis, sayin she didn’t want to bring any new guys ‘round me,” he lowers his voice as the next rider climbs over the small fence to get on the horse. “She’s gets sad when I go stay with Pa; I see it in her eyes. They fought once; I remember it scared me. I hid under the table with Frank, my Pa’s dog. Pa said somethin bout me livin with him an Ma said no, that if he wanted that he would grow a pair an stop listenin to his family an what they say bout her; come live with us if he really wanted that. Pa left that night, I don’t know where. He made Ma cry before he left though. I found her in her bedroom, cryin on the floor. I don’t know what Pa did, but it made Momma cry. You’re not gon make Ma cry, are ya?” He looks up at Arthur, same green eyes as Scarlet’s staring back at him. The man sighs and clears his throat, patting James on the back.
“Son, I don’t wanna make your momma cry. That’s the last thing I wanna do,” he assures the boy. He lifts James back onto his shoulders when the boy asks, holding his knees. “You see your Ma?”
“Yeah! She’s climbin the gate now! Look!” James squeals in excitement, tapping Arthur’s hat lightly and pointing across the pen to where Scarlet was slinging herself over the top post, her red fringe and neckerchief standing out in the moonlight. She scans the crowd on the other side of the corral and smiles as she meets her son’s green eyes staring back at her. She lets her gaze travel lower to lock eyes with Arthur, his face scrunched in slight disdain before he notices she’s staring at him. He grins then, waving with one hand.
James holds one of his hands up, signaling his mother to do the same. She grips the rigging tight in her left hand and throws her right hand up just as they open the small gate. The bronco jumps out of the gate, agitated and bucking high. Scarlet grips tight to the rigging, shifting her weight with the stallion. He rears before starting to run, then quickly turning in small circles in hopes of throwing her off. Scarlet laughs and coos to the horse as he continues to thrash.
“Eight! Ten! Twelve!”
Scarlet looses her grip on the rigging and gets bucked onto the bronco’s neck. She curses as he immediately rears and she hits the ground. She jumps up and runs over to one of the two men on horses and he pulls her up, bringing her over to the far side of the pen, letting her climb onto the fence and out of harm’s way. She nods to him and walks over to her group. “That’s seventeen seconds folks! Miss O’Hara takes the unsaddled bronco event!”
“Are you alright?”
“That looked like it hurt!”
“Do you need to sit down?”
“Momma! You did great!”
“You’re not hurt are you?”
Scarlet motions at them to calm down, rolling her shoulders and neck. James taps on Arthur’s shoulders, signaling he wants to be put down. He obliges and the boy runs to Scarlet; she kneels down and catches him in a hug that has her stumbling back a bit. Their laughter sparks happiness in the rest and they relax, joining in the affair.
“I’m alright. I’ve been bucked harder. Still don’t think there’s anythin worse than bein treed or fenced though,” she scoffs, letting James go.
“Treed? Fenced?” Hosea asks, warm smile on his face. “What’s that?”
“Oh uh, basically where the horse can’t get you off by bucking so their dumbass runs into a tree or fence; headfirst, skids and slides you into it, or anythin like that,” she explains and brushes the dirt off her outfit.
“Sounds painful,” Arthur muses. She nods and tips her head up at him.
“Well, congratulations. I just won the bet on you for this. I said you would at least stay on for ten seconds,” Hosea smugly states, patting his chest where he has the money hidden. Scarlet chuckles and shakes her head, nodding to the pen.
“You’re welcome? I didn’t expect them to use the same horse for all eight of us. Normally they let us see which horses are in the line ups and change from each rider or after a coupe.” James tugs on her sleeve, looking between her and Arthur.
“Momma you said we could go see the bulls!” He reminds, bouncing in his boots. Her nose scrunches in thought for a moment before she clicks her tongue.
“You’re right, I did. Come on, we can stop by the barn and check on Fancy and Shamrock,” she suggests and leads the small herd of people through the crowd that’s slowly gathering, people calling out congratulations and some throwing slurs. She brushes them off.
Scarlet takes a deep breath before she climbs up the fence to get on the saddled bronco, a mare this time she notes. She exhales and slings herself over the railing and into the saddle in one quick movement, gripping the heavy, lead lead she’s passed.
Her heartbeat is in her ears, the sound of the crowd -some cheering and booing- slowly fades as her heartbeat slows with time. The gate opens and she hangs tight to the lead, moving and adjusting quickly in the saddle. Her eyes focus on mare’s ears, pinned back as she grunts and snorts below her.
Everything rushes back to her as the mare rears and yanks her head back, nearly smacking Scarlet in the face. Luckily she snatches the reins to the left and quickly adjusts her position in the saddle. The mare spins quickly, attempting to bite at Scarlet’s foot, though she just pulls them back.
The mare finally charges the fence, slamming her side into it. Scarlet lets out a whimper as pain shoots through her right foot as the mare leaps to the left, away from the fence. Scarlet’s pulled from the saddle, her foot caught in the busted fence post. She can hear the announcer saying her time, but it’s fuzzy and she doesn’t catch how long she was actually on for. One of the men on horses’s pulls up beside her, leaning over to help lift her up. She holds herself on the back of the saddle as the man and a few audience members lift the post. She lets out her breath, not realizing she’s holding it, and slips from the horse, laughing as she’s helped through the fencing to Arthur and John.
“Christ, you okay? Sit down,” Arthur barks, forcing her to sit on the ground as he lifts her right leg, gently poking and prodding. She raises a brow at him and laughs, grabbing his hand. She moves it to her thigh where she can already feel a bruise forming.
“My foot is fine, my boot was just caught in the angle. It’s my upper thigh here she caught on the actual post. Fuckin mare, fenced me,” she swears, breaking out into a giggle fit as she leans back, lying on the ground. Hosea walks over and drops her hat on her chest, shaking his head.
“Twenty two seconds, you fool. You could have been severely hurt, why didn’t you get off before she ran you into the post?” He scolds, fear and concern heavy in his tone. Scarlet pushes up to rest back on her elbows, looking up at him.
“Didn’t know she was gon’ fence me. My adrenaline was up and I lost touch with reality,” she admits with a shrug. Arthur helps her to her feet and walks with her back to the gang, John and Hosea trailing behind. She can barely make out John telling Hosea that he couldn’t be too mad because she won yet another round.
Sean’s somehow manages to convince almost everyone to drink with him. Scarlet refuses, saying she needs to be fully focused on staying on the bucking bull since they’re unpredictable. Abigail declines and reminds him she has a son to watch, which in turn makes Arthur refuse as well, motioning to James. Hosea suggests he hold onto the money and things they rest of them have pick-pocketed before they get drunk. They readily agree. Sadie and Javier agree to one drink, reminding them of their steer roping event.
Arthur stops Scarlet before she can begin to climb the gate to get on the bull. She turns in his arms as she holds up a hand to signal she needs a moment, thinking something was wrong with James. He leans down, hands resting on her hips, and brushes his lips against her ear, whispering softly. “Good luck and please be safe. This one looks awful mean.” His warm breath fans down her neck and she shivers, hands subconsciously moving to rest on his forearms.
“Yeah, a’course. Always,” she smiles brightly at him, pulling away when the hands tell her she can either get on the bull or forfeit. She pauses as she’s straddling the top rail, sending a wink to Arthur before dropping down onto the dark bull. Arthur can hear the snorts and heavy hooves beating the ground as the bull tosses its head, its horns waving wildly.
Before he can yell at her to not to go through with this, he sees the gate open one last time. The bull jumps straight up before trying to use his horns to knock her off. She looks like she’s struggling and falls to the side of the bull. She yelps in surprise and yanks herself back up, enraging the bull. He bucks and whips his body to the right, throwing her over his left shoulder. She grunts as she hits the semi-packed dirt.
The bull bellows angrily at her and stamps the ground, kicking dirt up under his stomach and tossing it to the side. She rolls to her feet, snatching her hat, and makes a beeline for the fence as the bull charges. Three men in bright, silly looking outfits yell and distract the bull just long enough for Scarlet to slip out through the fence rails, rolling onto her back at Arthur’s feet.
Her chest heaves as she tries to calm her racing heart and even her breathing, her lungs trying to recover from the spasm of being thrown so hard. Arthur kneels over her, back of his hand running along her cheek gently.
“You good?” He inquires and scoops her up in his arms. She nods, her breathing slowly evening out. He sets her on her feet as they approach their friends. They have their bedrolls, Scarlet presumes from their tents, and are sprawled all out on them; the only sober ones being Abigail, John, Javier, Sadie, and Hosea. She giggles and takes an opened bottle John offers her, chugging the last bit and tossing the bottle to the side. Jack and James are curled up together in the middle of the group, both fast asleep.
“That’s the last event for me of the night. Tomorrow will be the others. If y’all don’t mind, I think I’m gonna go get a bath and go to bed. Hosea, did you get my time for this one?”
“Eleven seconds,” the silver fox replies, nodding to her. “You placed third this go round. I still won some money from betting. Some people were counting you out, I told them you’d be in at least the top three,” he preens as she congratulates him on being able to press his luck on her skill.
“That’s fine, I’ve won two. The barrels will be another victory, pole bendin maybe. I haven’t worked Shasta on it in awhile, but he’s really raring to go, or he was when he saw them earlier,” she comments, leaning on Arthur as she yawns. “But I think it’s bed time. Make sure they all make it back to their tents, could ya? They might get looted just laying about out here like that,” she gestures to the slumped group of people, all in one big cuddle pile.
Arthur lets her go as he picks up James for her, despite her protests. John grabs Jack and they all head back to the hotel, Hosea staying behind to wake the others and have them move to their temporary camp.
The duo couples say goodnight to each other and Arthur helps Scarlet get James into bed. She watches as he tucks her son in, something in her stomach fluttering. She clears her throat as he walks up to her, resting his forehead on hers. She watches his face, his expression.
“Stay?” She breathes as his hand comes up to cradle her cheek in his warm palm. She grips the front of his shirt and pleads, the need to be comforted a little too much for her at the moment. Arthur opens his eyes to stare at her, nodding and gesturing to the wardrobe against the wall. Scarlet releases his shirt, going to change from her rodeo clothes and into a soft, cotton night gown. She climbs into the bed by James as Arthur takes off his gun belt, bandolier, boots, and hat, back still turned to her from when she was changing, before joining her. He sits against the headboard, rubbing her back as she cradles the pillow under her head.
When Arthur believes Scarlet is fully asleep, he slips from the bed, pulling his boots and gear back on. He glances back at them, Scarlet rolling over to face where he just was lying. He smiles when she pulls the pillow close to her as she settles back down, closing the door quietly behind him. John’s leaning on the wall in the hall, lighting a cigarette; he offers Arthur one. They step outside and glance towards the group camp, each taking slow drags, neither speaking.
Arthur snuffs our his cigarette when it’s short and nods to John who glances back at the hotel. He heads to the camp while Marston makes his way back inside to his and Abigail’s room. Arthur crouches and flops down on his bedroll, letting out a low groan. Hosea turns to face him, sitting up slightly.
“You’re not stayin the night again?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a real question in his words, watching the man he considers a son. Arthur shakes his head and undoes his gun belt and removes it and his bandolier again, setting them off to the side. He lies on his back and rests his hat over his eyes, a sign he doesn’t want to talk about it. Hosea respects his choice and lies back down as well. “Goodnight, Son.”
“Night, Hosea,” he mumbles from under his hat. He rests his hands on his chest, fingers laced together as he crosses his right ankle over his left.
Scarlet sends James into Arthur’s tent, talking softly with Hosea. They watch as the boy attempts to sneak into the tent, successfully tossing the gun belt and bandolier out of it and also out of Arthur’s reach. They hear Arthur yell as James presumably jumps on the poor, unsuspecting man. Scarlet laughs as her son walks out of the tent triumphantly, Arthur’s hat on his head. It’s too big and falls into his eyes but he merely upturns his face and beams at his mother.
“I got it, Ma! He missed when he tried to get it back. He tripped on the bedrolls,” the boy laughs, running behind Scarlet as Arthur emerges from the tent. Hosea smiles and pats Scarlet’s shoulder as he goes to get coffee.
“Mornin, Arthur,” she greets as he gets closer, she’s dressed in her rodeo gear again. She’s even got the neckerchief around her neck. His lips quirk up at that.
“Was that your idea or his? Sending your spawn to wake me?” His question is playful, sending a faux glare to James who only laughs louder and hides completely behind Scarlet.
“Both? Mine was to steal your hat, the waking you up was just a bonus,” she smiles at him, hand going behind her to rest on James’ shoulder, pulling him to her side and out from behind her.
“Well, he’s lucky I like him, his Momma too,” he teases, winking at the boy. James puts a hand on the top of the hat as Arthur lunges for him. Scarlet sidesteps as the man wraps his arm around her son and tickles him. She watches in amusement as James’ squealing laughter resounds around their small camp, making everyone stop and turn to them. Jack runs over and pulls on Arthur’s arm.
“No, no, stop tickling James, Uncle Arthur!” The younger boy cries, tugging harder on his arm. Arthur stops his assault on James and picks Jack up with his other arm, tickling him instead. James tries to catch his breath as Jack takes his place. “Not me! Uncle Arthur!” Jack squeals, laughter falling from him in waves. Arthur cedes his actions and sets the boy down, crouching and ruffling Jack’s hair before the boy runs over to Abigail, smiling.
The mothers share a look and Scarlet turns to James, nodding her head to Arthur. James takes the hat from his head and holds it out to the man. “He’s so good with children,” she comments. Abigail nods, eyes shifting from Scarlet to Arthur, smiling.
“Yeah, he is.”
“Here’s your hat back, Sir,” James says as Arthur straightens from his crouch. He takes his hat and smiles down at him, patting his shoulder with his free hand. He puts his hat back on and walks with James back to the rest of the group.
“We’re down to the last two events of the rodeo! First up we have pole bending! In this event, a horse and rider must run the length of the six posted poles, weavin between them, turn sharply around, run the length back weavin back through them,” the announcer calls as a non participant demonstrates how it’s supposed to be done correctly, though not as quickly as it’s to be done..
Scarlet is in the barn, triple checking Shasta’s saddle is tight enough so it, nor she will fall or slip off. The Buckskin nickers at her, bobbing his head in anticipation. She ties the excess strip of leather through the ring on the saddle and makes sure it’s tight. He paws the stall door as she turns and reaches into her side bag. She pulls out a carrot and Shasta’s ears prick forward, snorting at her as he sniffs at it.
“Ready, Shasta boy? I know I ain’t ridden you in awhile but let’s see if we can’t beat our time of eighteen seconds!” She encourages the large animal. He nibbles the end of the carrot and she rolls it so he can have the whole thing, palm flat as he takes it from her hand. “Good boy. Let’s go,” she takes his reins in hand and leads him out the stall and out to the corral with an opening.
“Y’all ready?” Arthur calls as Scarlet steers Shasta over to them. She nods and pats Shasta’s neck, clicking her tongue. He tosses his head and rears as she jumps into the saddle.
“Yep. This is a timed event but it’s more for how fast you can be, not how long you can stay on like the other three,” she explains as Shasta drops back down to all fours, pawing the ground restlessly. She shushes him and makes sure the knot in her reins are tight before resting it on the horn.
“Good luck, we’re cheerin fer ya, Lass!” Sean calls with a wave, headed over to the fence to watch. Jack, James, Arthur, and Abigail stay with her for a moment.
“Be safe, don’t scare us no more like yesterday!” Abigail scolds lightly, joking underlining her tone. Scarlet just tips her hat with a grin.
“No promises,” she replies and clicks her tongue, urging Shasta towards the opening where the other riders are waiting on their horses. James and Arthur follow beside her. “Happy birthday, James,” She leans down and presses a kiss to his cheek before sitting back up, gripping Arthur’s forearm before letting go as Shasta starts prancing in place. “Okay, Boy! Easy,” she soothes and spins him a few times before he trots closer to the group of five other riders.
They share stories of previous rodeos, their horses, and how for a couple of them, it’s their first time participating in this event. The other veteran riders try to give tips and tricks to get a faster time, Scarlet listens but doesn’t comment. She knows exactly how she and Shasta need to run this to get a good time. It helps that he’s got excess energy he needs to burn off.
Before Scarlet knows it, she’s the last one up. She walks Shasta to the opening, hesitating a moment. Her body language shifts and Shasta pins his ears forward, letting out a loud whinny as he rears. When he pulls his front feet down, he shoots with the power from his hind legs, jumping from the rear to propel himself forward. She holds his reins tight, restricting his head movements. “Faster, Boy! Faster! There ya go! Wait until we turn!” She cheers him on, timing her turn just right. Shasta spins on his front hooves, quickly spinning and weaving back through the six poles. Scarlet lets him have his head, the reins slack. He kicks up sand as he crosses the opening again, tossing his head with a neigh.
“Sixteen seconds!” The announcer shouts in disbelief, double taking at his platinum pocket watch. Shasta holds his tail and head high, snorting as he passes by the rest. Scarlet pats his neck, rubbing him down.
“That’s my boy!” She praises, letting him celebrate with the light trotting he’s doing. She laughs at his personality, shaking her head good-naturedly. “I gotta go get Fancy saddled, Shas. Let’s go.” The stallion prances his way back to the barn, heading straight for Fancy’s stall. The mare gets to her feet. She nickers and takes in the prancing Shasta, tail flicking around.
Scarlet slides off the Bucksin and ties his reins to the post by Fancy’s stall, quickly undoing the buckle and pulling off his saddle, setting it on his stall door. Fancy straightens her head when she sees the old brown saddle Scarlet reaches for on the hitching post.
“Ready for some barrels, Fancy?” She inquires, unbolting the stall. Fancy pushes it open and walks out, turning so her left side is facing Scarlet, watching her rider intently. Scarlet laughs and grabs her halter, pulling her head down to give her a kiss on her nose. “You’re more than ready, ain’tcha?” She lays a black and silver blanket down on her back before hefting the saddle over the mare’s back. Fancy stands patiently as she gets saddled, nipping lightly at Scarlet’s arm when the saddle is a little tight. Scarlet immediately loosens it and adjusts her stirrups up a little more.
She grabs the matching bit set and slips it over her ears and into her mouth, over her tongue without issue. “Let’s go girl,” she coos and walks the mare out to the group who have packed up their camp and are waiting with the wagon by an empty spot off to the side of the corral, Smoke and Shamrock harnessed in it.
Hosea approaches her on Silver Dollar, informing her that they’re ready to leave when she’s done with the event and collects her winnings from the previous day’s events and if she has any after the barrels. She agrees and climbs into the saddle, having to immediately hold back on the reins when Fancy tries to dart into the corral. She apologizes to Hosea and watches as the second rider runs into the corral and starts around the barrels. They’ve all gone to the left side first, she notes.
She’s waiting with Fancy at the opening when the fifth rider runs out, cheering his Thoroughbred. Scarlet pets Fancy’s neck and murmurs encouragement, giving out all the slack on the reins for Fancy.
The mustang darts up the middle and cuts to the right barrel first, whipping herself around it so close that Scarlet’s knee knocks into it. Just as soon as she’s there, she’s crossing to the left barrel, cutting diagonal slightly to round the farther side and turn left. She’s as close as on the first barrel, Scarlet cursing as she feels her knee make contact again, though the barrel doesn’t move. Fancy dashes back to the center and up to the farthest barrel, cutting around it from the right to the left, spinning her weight on her front hooves, shoving off and booking it back out the corral, snorting.
“Folks! That concludes the Rhodes rodeo! Please standby for a few moments while we tally the times here for the barrels, as well as the overall score from yesterday and today! Feel free to look around at the broncos and bulls we brought and talk with the participants,” the announcer states, the man leaving his post to go meet with the timers.
“Yes! Who is my good girl? You are, Fancy!” Scarlet cheers and drops from the saddle, leaving the reins on her neck as she grabs her horse’s halter. Fancy tosses her head as best she can without yanking away from her rider then nuzzles her face into Scarlet’s chest, nickering in delight. She leads the mare to her wagon, tying her to the back and thanking her friends as they congratulate her on her time as well as giving praise to Fancy, their excitement warming her heart.
“You didn’t knock over any barrels! It looked like you almost hit them,” Javier states, helping her into the back of the wagon to join the party. She leans against the side, one leg hanging off the back as she sits up.
“Oh my knee knocked them, no doubt. But the closer you get, the faster you can turn. It also helps that Fancy knows how to throw her weight to her front legs and whip her rear around. I’ve found that makes us turn a lot easier and a lot faster,” she replies, ruffling said mare’s mane. She snorts and turns to look at Shasta, who Arthur’s leading over. His saddle just resting on his back, not tied. “Well look at you, Cowboy. Didn’t think he liked anyone else save for James. How’d you manage to untie him without him bitin you?”
“A couple of the other riders were in the barn. I heard them sayin somethin about your horse and I found them plannin to make off with him. Or try to anyway. He didn’t like them more than he doesn’t like me I reckon. Ain’t that right, Shasta?” The stallion tosses his head and nudges Arthur, a silent request for him to walk closer so he can stand by Fancy. Arthur obliges the horse and ties him next to Fancy, climbing onto the other side of the wagon, mirroring Scarlet’s seated position. “Apparently they were mad you won the bronc events. By the sound of it you have the last two in the bag too.”
“Here’s to hopin then. My poor boy, those mean people wanted to steal you?” She croons to her stallion. He nickers and rests his head on her leg, nibbling at the boot of her bent foot. She giggles and brushes a hand down the piece of mane on his forehead, scratching behind his ears with her other hand. “Wanna go see with me?”
Arthur nods and slips off the wagon, holding a hand to help her down. She clicks her tongue twice and Shasta takes a few steps back, pulling his head from her lap. James crawls over Sean and Javier, much to their dismay, and jumps down, grabbing his mom’s hand.
“I wanna come too! Where we going?” He looks up between the adults, smile wide and eyes bright. Scarlet nods, happily agreeing, happy her son wants to go with her. Arthur sweeps his arm in front of him, smiling at James.
“After you,” he states, falling into step with the mother and son. They walk back to the corral, joining the small crowd that’s gathering around the far end where the announcer and timers are.
“Alright, is everyone here? Can everyone hear me?” There’s screaming and yelling from all around before it goes quiet, not even the crickets being heard. “Alright! For the fastest pole bendin and barrel racer, we have Scarlet O’Hara!” The announcement causes cheers to break out among the women and some men, the rest grumble or flat out boo the result. “Alright, alright! That’s enough. The winner for overall best time for all events is...Scarlet as well! Mrs. O’Hara, please come up here!” Scarlet and Arthur glance at each other at the mention of ‘Mrs’ but she shrugs it off and makes her way up to the front, James trailing behind, still holding her hand. Arthur hangs back a little before following and standing near the front, deciding it’d be best to be close if something breaks out.
“Is there anything you’d like to say? How did you stay on the broncs so long? How’s that mare of yours so fast?” The announcer floods her with questions, the crowd yelling they want to know as well. She smiles and shrugs, gently pulling James close to her.
“My mare, Fancy was my Ma’s horse. My Ma used to barrel race her too, so she knows how to race. The broncs were easy, it’s just like breaking a horse; a very angry an agitated horse. If you’re new to rodeos, you want to try your hand at breakin a couple horses, be they young ones you raise or wild ones you catch. Time yourself,” she suggests as she accepts the money stacks from the announcer, thanking him. “Thank you, Rhodes! It’s been fun,” she concludes and steps away with James. Arthur’s at her side in a heartbeat, hand on her elbow as he leans in.
“They’re watchin us. Let’s leave on the horses so they don’t follow the wagon back. We’ll put James on the wagon,” he whispers to her, draping his arm over her so to the onlookers it looks like he was praising her. She nods and puts James in front of them, telling him he’s going to ride back with Uncle John, Aunt Abigail, Jack, and the others.
When they reach the wagon, Scarlet quickly unties Shasta and Fancy while Arthur hoists James into the back, ordering him to stay down and close to the front. He explains the situation to the others who nod in agreement. Hosea, John, Javier, and Sean are to keep lookout; John and Abigail to drive back to Horseshoe Overlook while he and Scarlet lead any followers away from them. Javier and Sean climb on their respective horses, guns on their backs and loaded. Scarlet quickly saddles Shasta with the help of Sadie, using Arthur’s saddle, putting her saddle in the wagon. Sadie climbs onto the blood bay and rides on the left with Hosea. Scarlet turns Shasta for Arthur.
“Climb up-”
“You want me to ride Shasta?”
“Well, Fancy’s not one to listen to males, but if you wanna ride her, be my guest. Smoke is harnessed in with Shamrock, so it’s not like we can take them. We don’t have the time to switch Smoke for Shasta,” she sasses and throws the reins over both horses. Arthur sighs but nods, pulling himself onto Shasta’s back. She climbs on Fancy and leans close to Hosea, slipping him the last of the prize money she received. “Hold on to that til we get back?”
Before he can answer she’s pulling Shasta where the rein meets his halter, making him walk despite wanting to run and buck the unusual weight off his back. They watch and wait patiently until the wagon is out of sight, Scarlet turning to Arthur.
“Ya sure he’s not gon’ buck me?” He asks as he notes Shasta’s pinned back ears and light prancing.
“No, he won’t,” the stern reply is meant for Shasta, who flicks his ears forward before pinning them back again. “Don’t make me ask Fancy to have you behave, Shas,” she warns. Fancy lifts her head and stares at Shasta, almost as if waiting for him to disobey. The standardbred snorts in defeat and flicks his ears forward. “Good boy. Get used to Arthur an his weight. He might be ridin you for awhile dependin on this situation,” she adds, letting her horses know they might be needing to run. They both neigh in response and paw the ground, awaiting orders.
“We good?”
“Yeah, should be. Try an give him a command. Get him walkin,” she suggests and leans her forearms on the metal horn. Arthur squeezes his thighs against Shasta, clicking his tongue as he’s watched Scarlet do numerous times. Shasta snorts in annoyance but walks around Fancy for him. Scarlet praises her stubborn horse and reaches over to pat him as reward.
“Keep being good to Arthur an I’ll get you somethin nice,” she promises, turning Fancy to ride out the other side of town and around. “Arthur, keep close. There’s raiders in Lemoyne here and they don’t care who or what you are. An be ready to run at a moment’s notice. That’s all the chance we might have if ambushed. Shasta knows to go to Valentine if anythin happens. Fancy will go to camp first to see if anyone’s there then Valentine. She’ll cause a ruckus an get attention drawn to her if anythin happens to me. I also have a special whistle I use for her if I can’t speak. If I go down, get back to camp. Don’t try to rescue me, leave an come back with reinforcements,” she whispers as they ride through the town, both observing their surroundings.
“I’m not leaving you,” he grunts at her, looking at her to see her staring at him. She sighs and nods.
“Fine. Fire fight it’ll be if anythin does go wrong. But I warned you,” she points a finger at him before urging Fancy to a gallop. Shasta prances to the side a moment before riding beside Fancy at her pace, tossing his head.
The duo are just about at the Lemoyne line when two riders come on either side of them, riding too close for comfort. Fancy nickers in warning and Shasta snorts, kicking a little as the rider forces them to ride closer, Arthur and Scarlet’s knees rubbing as they ride.
“What are you two doin out here? You lost?”
“Hey, ain’t you that pretty lady who won a few of the events at our rodeo?” One of the two riders questions, leaning over close to her. She shakes her head and frowns, shifting her weight just enough for Fancy to catch her unspoken command.
“No? There was a woman who won events? That’s new,” she feigns innocence, stealing a glance to Arthur who clenches his jaw. She taps Shasta’s shoulder with her knee, a silent order for him to follow Fancy’s lead.
“Nice try, but there’s not a lot of ladies wearing black chaps and shirts with red fringe,” the second rider sneers, both raiders drawing their guns.
“How’s ‘bout you just give us your winnings for protection in Lemoyne?” The first rider offers, switching his reins to hold in his left, the same hand he’s holding his gun with. Scarlet nods and reaches into her shirt, pausing momentarily as shock and fear passes across her face.
“It appears I’ve already been robbed, fellers,” She lies and squeezes Fancy’s sides twice and the mare kicks out to her left, hitting the horse and making it collapse, causing the raider to fall and be rolled over. Shasta kicks to the right at the same time Fancy goes left, hitting the second raider off his horse completely.
“Run!” Scarlet orders, spurring Fancy and giving her her head. Arthur kicks Shasta and the Buckskin bucks for a second before charging after Fancy; his strides long, catching up to the mustang in no time.
They cross from Lemoyne back into New Hanover and Scarlet sighs, urging her horses to gradually slow up when their breathing becomes labored. Arthur shakes his head and turns to her.
“What the hell was that?” He asks, patting Shasta. Scarlet blows a raspberry and turns to make sure they’re not being followed.
“Lemoyne county Raiders. Bunch of right bastards they are. Unfortunately they’re a group that, I believe, fought for the south and they won’t put the past behind them; continuing the rebellion with kids they pick up. A bad lot, though not as bad as the O’Driscolls,” she answers, petting Fancy. The two horses toss their heads and snort, Shasta trying to pull the reins from Arthur’s hands. “Oi! Cut that out,” she swats Shasta’s ear when he tries to grab a rein again, startling him slightly so he prances away.
“I’ve got him. I’m not gettin thrown by the likes of him. I’ve dealt with worse,” he shrugs as he adjusts the reins so there’s less for Shasta to potentially get a hold of. Scarlet nods and they make their way back to camp, enjoying the other’s company.
“Hey! Who goes t’ere?” Sean calls out, gun ready to fire.
“It’s just us, ya Irish twat,” Scarlet calls back, accent coming out a bit. Arthur laughs lightly, covering it as a cough. They hitch the horses to one of the hitching posts and Scarlet makes an attempt to find Hosea; Dutch stops her with a whistle. She feels her face heat up as she turns to Dutch.
“Well what do we have here? Little miss rodeo queen?” He teases, holding his arms open as though he were presenting her like a prize. She rolls her eyes and nods slightly, smiling at him.
“Somethin like that. Did Hosea already talk to you?” She tries to change the subject, hoping he doesn’t want too much detail.
“No, why? Did somethin happen?”
“Wha-? No! I uhh just gave him the money I earned from the events I won an he won the majority of the bets placed against me to win. I was just gon’ give you half, kinda as a thanks for helpin me an takin not only myself but my son in too,” she quickly reassures the leader, eyes downcast. Dutch nods -she can see his shadow on the ground in front of her- and smiles, clapping her shoulder.
“That’s my girl,” Dutch praises, taking out a cigar to smoke. Scarlet giggles and shakes her head, bringing her gaze back to meet his.
“I’m not your girl. I don’t belong to anybody,” she quips, stepping back from him. “But I would like to change so holler if you need me,” She excuses herself.
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we-cant-fight-gravity · 6 years ago
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How about a HC on the kinks of each camp member, I'm pretty sure even the greatest of villains had a weak, guilty spot somewhere ;P (I don't think it needs any reader interaction but of gender neutral.)
I had actually planned on doing this, so thank you for giving me more of a reason to do it! I’m aware that some of the things I included aren’t really kinks, but I feel like they’re important to mention, none the less. Some people don’t have as many kinks as others, just because I hc them as pretty vanilla. There are also a couple characters that I left out, either because I forgot them or I figured there wouldn’t be that much interest in them anyway. So, sorry Uncle fuckers, it’s just not your day ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Abigail - Facesitting. Will sit on her partner’s face like it’s a fucking throne. She looks real pretty up there too. Dirty Talk. Domination (switch, but she prefers to dom). She’s a very gentle dom, but she makes it very clear as to what she wants. When she’s with John, there’s a constant power struggle. Spanking. Mostly on the receiving end, but might be down to use those hands if her partner is really into it.
Arthur - Praise. Constantly telling his partner what a good girl/boy they are and uses lots of sweet pet names. Mutual Masturbation. He also has a thing for masturbating in front of his partner/to the sight of them, especially early on in the relationship. Light Spanking. The last thing he wants to do is actually hurt his partner. Dirty Talk. He does most of the talking but loves hearing it back as well. Body Worship on both ends. Sometimes he just wants to be told how handsome and sexy he is, ok? 
Charles - Outdoor Sex. Biting. Usually when he gets close to finishing. He mostly does it so he can keep himself quiet. Afterwards, he kisses any mark he may leave on his partner. Light Spanking. He’s got big, strong hands so he has to restrain himself. Edging. Praise. Primal Play. Face Sitting. Loves having his partner up on top of him, paws at their chest as he pleasures them. General Rough Sex (w lots of sweet, loving aftercare to follow). Body Worship. Gets really flustered if he’s on the receiving end, but he enjoys it none the less. 
Dutch - Daddy Kink. Degradation. Gagging. Can’t have his partner waking up the whole camp now, can he? Light Bondage. Spanking/Belting. Lies his partner down on his cot, ass up, and goes to town on them with his belt. If they make any noise, he gags them and goes way harder 👀. Domination (he’s a dom, and not a particularly nice one). 
(Sorry for the cut, there’s just like,,, 13 more of these and I don’t want to annoy people by clogging up their dash with a wall of text!!) 
Grimshaw - Domination (dom, she runs the show, no matter who she’s with). Thinking about the constant power struggle between her and Dutch makes me feel some kinda way. Praise. I don’t think this is a kink, but Scratching. Marks her partners all to Hell. Back, thighs, shoulders when they eat her out… you name it. Dirty Talk. God she loves hearing it but is fucking fantastic at giving it. A true Queen. Face Sitting. Tell her how hot she is while she’s up there and she’ll die. Not an all the time thing, but she digs complete and utter Body Worship now and then because she’s getting a little insecure in her old age. 
Hosea - Slow/Passionate Sex, but in his prime, Hosea used to be a real stud. Not really a kink, per se, but he loves Spooning. He keeps one hand on his partner’s chest, holding them close, and another stimulating them. Has a thing for Toys, though they’re not readily available. Cock rings are his favourite, just because it helps him stay hard longer. Praise. Edging, though he can’t handle it himself. He encourages his partner to hold off, it’s really sweet. Not sure what it’s called, but he has a thing for younger folk. Probably in their mid to late 20s or early 30s.
John - A true king of Power Bottoming. Biting, but that’s just the raccoon in him coming out. His partner needs to get a rabies shot before they have sex. Mostly on his partner’s neck and thighs. General Rough Sex, but also slows it down sometimes. Light/Playful Degradation, nothing too extreme. Even though he’s not super into giving oral, if he’s with a lady he loves Face Sitting. He might be willing to have a male partner sit on his face, but I think he’d really have to be with the right fella. Domination (a switch, but I’m leaning more towards dom). Light Bondage, tie this boy up and ride him!! He goes crazy!!
Javier - Light Knife Play. Mostly just for show, but sometimes he will run it across his partner’s skin and draw a lil bit of blood. He has cut his hand all to Hell fucking you with the handle of his knife before. Daddy Kink (prolly in Spanish 🤤). Domination (he’s a dom, not into being submissive). General Rough Sex. He can be very aggressive, so be warned.  Facesitting. Choking. Usually, he grabs your throat to make you look him in the eyes, especially when he’s about to finish. Praise/Degradation. He goes from calling his partner a whore to ‘mi corazon’ in .0002 seconds flat. Self-proclaimed king of Dirty Talk. 
Karen - Ok this girl is so into Rough Sex I have no idea how she was with Sean. Domination (such a good lil sub, but does like to have control sometimes). Choking. Deepthroating or if she’s with a lady Facesitting. Just likes to be messy in general.  Praise. Likes to receive it, but she can and will give it back. Likes NEEDS to be coddled and told how beautiful she is afterwards, so I’ll throw in Body Worship as well. Light Bondage; she is the prettiest rope bunny. 
Kieran - Mutual Masturbation, especially when the relationship is new. He’s not very experienced, so taking things slow would make him much more comfortable. That being said, Clothed Sex is also a thing that Kieran enjoys. Praise. Outdoor Sex. He loves to sneak away from camp and get it on in a meadow or somewhere else that’s pretty and quiet :,) Domination (he’s a sub and he NEEDS to be told what to do), but he does best with a sweet and gentle dom. Overstimulation, on both ends. Particularly enjoys it when he’s on the receiving end, even though he swears he doesn’t in the moment.
Lenny - My baby boy. I don’t think he’s that kinky tbh. Deepthroating is a big thing for him though. Loves to look at his partner absolutely choke on his length. Which is a little out of character, but we all have our weaknesses. Actually, Oral is a big thing for him in general. He always, always, always, makes sure his partner’s needs are taken care of. The amount of Praise this boy gives is unbelievable. When he gets it back, he gets a little flustered, but it’s surely a soft spot for him. Especially if his partner tells him he’s a good boy, or something similar. He has really long Fingers and loves to have his partner suck on them before he goes to town on them. Lenny is a pretty vanilla boy but I love him anyway.
Mary-Beth - Slow/Passionate Sex. Not exactly a kink, but Erotica. She probably has some of her steamiest encounters written down somewhere. She often touches herself while re-reading them. Body Worship. She can be kinda insecure, so she loves hearing how beautiful she is. On the flip side, if you’re her partner, expect to be treated like a queen/king. Forreal.
Micah - General Rough Sex. Domination (a very, very mean dom). Gun Play. For show, mostly. But sometimes he does have his partner suck off the barrel of one of his guns, that’s hot. Degradation. Deepthroating is probably his biggest weakness. Loves seeing his partner gagging and choking on his cock. He doesn’t feel the least bit bad about it either. Belting/Spanking. He really overdoes it sometimes oops. Orgasm Denial, his partner really has to work for it if they want to cum.
Molly - Praise/Degradation. Call her little pet names and she’ll melt. But also responds well to being called mean names when she’s been ‘bad’. Domination (totally a sub). She likes a dom that will be rough, yet loving with her. Spanking. Bonus points if her partner makes her count the spanks as they go along. Edging. She gets really squirmy and whiny and by the end, she gets really flustered and swears to God that she’ll never do it again, but she always does :)) 
Sadie - General Rough Sex, usually the one to initiate… Y’know. Light Slapping, Spanking, the usual. Domination (dom, but does like to switch it up sometimes). Super into Oral, won’t fuck her partner unless she’s given them a nice sloppy blowjob or left their legs shaking from eating them out. She’s also into receiving. She loves sitting on her partner’s face, but I would describe it more as FaceRiding because she really puts in the extra work up there. Likes to hear her partner use some Dirty Talk. She tries her best to reciprocate, but she gets flustered and can’t do it very well.
Sean - Light Bondage. Another boy that likes to be tied up and ridden. But this one gets very bratty very fast. FaceSitting. He swears he wants to die by being drowned in pussy. Can we make that canon? Loves giving Facials. Always tells his partner how fucking pretty/handsome they look with his cum all over their face. Praise for days. Loves to give it, loves to have it thrown back at him. Especially if he’s going down on his partner. 
Trelawny - Heavy Bondage. Whipping/Cropping. We love a BDSM king. Domination (he’s obv the dom). Idk what to call this, but he has a thing for Fingers. Loves to have his partner suck on them, and vice versa. Expect a lot of fingering in foreplay. Praise. Always tells his partner how good they’re doing, especially when things get intense. Edging/Overstimulation and he will be MEAN about it too. Orgasm Denial if his partner is ‘naughty.’ 
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galadrieljones · 5 years ago
Text
That he may hold me by the hand: Chapter 5
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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason  
Rating: Mature (Adult Themes, Violence, and Sexual Content)
Summary: After saving Albert from stumbling off a cliff in the Heartlands, Arthur invites him to Valentine for a drink. What ensues after that is a quiet love story, in which both men find themselves completely undone.
Masterpost | AO3 | Epigraph
Chapter 5: I was a bird on the wire.
Like a worm on a hook Like a knight from some old-fashioned book I have saved all my ribbons for thee
-Leonard Cohen, "Bird on the Wire"
After she returned from St. Denis, Mary Beth spent the next week or so thinking and looking at Arthur from afar. Slowly, he was starting to move around the camp and do things for himself, and this reassured her and made her happy. He played a couple hands of poker with John, had dinner by the fire, went down to the water, but he didn’t seem interested in fishing. Mostly he seemed to just be drawing pictures. He spoke little. He did not really speak to Dutch or Hosea. There seemed to be something going on there and it had been going on for a while, but it was getting deeper, and Dutch seemed insecure, frequently checking on Arthur through side channels, but the two of them did not talk. Arthur held everything tightly inside, and he was not really talking to anyone about what had happened with Colm. Not even Hosea. Mary Beth asked him but he only smiled in his handsome way. He wouldn’t worry her, and though she knew it was walls, he was a tough cookie, and she did not know how to bring them down.
In any case, he was still calm and handsome, and his hair was getting longer. She brought him a lot of books to read, mostly shit penny novels she stole from the general store in Rhodes, a couple she even paid for. He would polish them off in an afternoon. She told him it was important for him to read crap as well as classics if he was to become a true gentleman of culture in the world, and this made him laugh, which relieved her. They walked together. He healed quickly and though he could not take sharp, quick breaths without pain, his bruises were getting somewhat better, and his ribs seemed to improve to such lengths that Charles, who had endured broken ribs in the past, speculated that perhaps Arthur had only bruised a couple ribs round the side. That none were broken. This seemed to relieve Arthur, but again, he did not talk on it much.
Meanwhile, Mary Beth could not really stop thinking about Albert Mason, a wholesome man who, regardless of intension, seemed to care about Arthur. A lot. But she was unlike John, who kind of always just had his hand on the truth, and instead, she tended to see what she wanted to see. She hung out with Arthur but he did not talk about Albert. She knew that if he wanted to talk about it, he would eventually. It was not important to her, what was really going on, as long as he was okay.
John, on the other hand, was very curious. He could not stop thinking about it and he would follow Mary Beth down to the water in the evenings where she would be washing clothes and ask her questions about Arthur and whether he had said anything. He was like a little old lady, she thought. He could not help himself. Once while John and Mary Beth were sitting down and smoking by the water, Arthur came down to join them. Mary Beth rolled him one neat cigarette and he lit it himself with a match off the sole of his boot. The color was back in his cheeks now as it had been almost two whole weeks. They all sat watching the birds flying in V-shapes in the sky and the steelhead trout doing flips in the twilight water. The stars were so bright it was like they were on fire, and after a little while of this, just smoking and sitting in a row on the sand, John started talking.
“So,” he said, glancing past Mary Beth, to Arthur. “Arthur. You gonna go see Albert soon? You seem like you’re back on your feet.”
“As soon as I can get on a horse, sure,” said Arthur. He seemed disinterested in the conversation.
“Did we tell you he made us tea?” said John.
Arthur gave him a funny look. “Tea?” he said.
“Yeah,” said John. “Some kind of weird tea. It was good. What was it called again, Mary Beth?”
“Earl Grey,” she said.
“Right,” said John. “Earl Grey.”
“Sounds like something out of Dickens, don’t it?” said Mary Beth.
Arthur smiled at her. “Little bit,” he said, smoking.
“Anyway,” said John. He took a drag. “He seemed like a really nice guy. Albert.”
“That, he is,” said Arthur, watching the lake. A sea bird flew down in an attempt to pick something out of the water with a fair amount of speed, came up empty. “How’d he seem?” he said.
John looked right at him and seized upon the opportunity. “What do you mean?”
Arthur scratched at his beard, smoked, stayed staring into the scenery. His eyes did not break from nature for a second. “I mean how’d he seem,” he said. “It ain’t a complicated question.”
John glanced at Mary Beth.
“He was worried,” she said, looking down at her cigarette. She smoked it, felt it getting low, trashed it in the sand.
“Real worried,” said John. “About you. He seemed to know you pretty well.”
Arthur looked down at his hands, took a drag, tossed the cigarette into the water. He opened up a little then, to their surprise. “We’re pretty good friends,” he said, elbows resting on his knees. “Sorry I never mentioned him before.”
“It’s okay,” said Mary Beth. She put her head on his shoulder. He was very sturdy and she liked the way he felt beside her, as a friend. “Not everything is for talking about, you know?”
“I suppose,” said Arthur.
The divulgence was not enough for John but he knew he was too eager and he was also good at reading moments, and he was good at reading Arthur, too. He let this one be. He finished his cigarette and tossed it out with the others. Then he looked back at the water and thought about Abigail. “I was thinking of maybe…I don’t know. Taking Jack fishing tomorrow. What do you think, Morgan?” he said.
“I think it’s about damn time,” said Arthur.
“You know any good spots?”
“Not really,” said Arthur. “Talk to Javier, though. I know he’s been scouting the shores for fish a lot lately.”
“Okay.”
“Arthur,” said Mary Beth, wistful. It seemed there was a meteor shower overhead. It was raining pretty things in the sky. She made a wish.
“Yes, Mary Beth?”
“I’m glad you’re doin better,” she said, looking at him. “Real glad.”
He sighed. “Yeah, me, too,” he said. “Thanks, Mary Beth.”
“You’re welcome, Arthur.”
They sat for a little while longer, feeling younger than they were, soaking in the celestial majesty and counting the stars.
When Arthur finally felt up to getting on his horse, he walked up the lake to a private spot and he cleaned himself of all the stench of his isolation and loneliness. He combed his hair neatly and tried to see about being presentable as a man in the world. He felt feral but also somehow like a kept child. He trimmed his beard, then he got on his horse and told Mary Beth of his business in St. Denis. He was leaving kind of late in the day, and she wondered aloud when it was he would return.
“I’m not sure,” said Arthur, finding his feet in the stirrups. Amelia was a small and beautiful horse, and she seemed comforted to have him back again. “Anybody asks, I’m just on an errand. I ain’t got a timeline though.”
“Okay, Arthur.”
“You been real good to me, Mary Beth,” he said. She was standing petting Amelia’s white mane. “You been a wonderful friend. I appreciate it, all of it. I wish I could repay you, but I don’t know that I can.”
“Please, Arthur,” she said, smiling up at him and shaking her head. “No need to repay me. You ain’t nothing but a fool for saying such things.”
“Well I do try to impress you so but I know how often I fail.”
She laughed, patted Amelia on the cheek. “Go on,” she said, looking at the horse. “Just be careful out there, Arthur. Go slow. You ain’t 100%.”
“I will.”
“Give Albert my highest regards.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He tipped his hat, as a gentleman, and rode away. She watched him go, her pale skirt swooshing in the southern breeze. For many years now, Mary Beth had been telling herself stories as a means of survival. She had always fancied Arthur as more a knight than an outlaw. Of course that was her girlish brain, but still. Even the way he rode that white horse, it was like the cosmos agreed. He was shiny. He deserved more than this. She sighed and turned around to face the camp, and Karen was waving at her from afar. “Mary Beth!” she said. “You ready?”
They were going to the Rhodes Parlor House to scam some rich dandies out of their ill-earned money. “I’m coming,” she said.
“I got you some lipstick from Molly,” said Karen. “We’re making you look like a harlot!”
Mary Beth laughed to herself as she went.
Arthur rode slow and maintained a sturdy posture on his horse. It had only been a few weeks, and it was still the south, but how he had missed the air, and the sounds of the sky and the wind as it bent through the tupelo trees. Riding hurt. It was full of abrupt and jerky motion that he did his best to ignore. He was sitting upright with his hands on the reins and soldiered forth. It was a thing he was used to—soldiering forth—and anyway, he could not for the life of him imagine spending one more monotonous night down at the camp in Clemens Point. The sounds of the voices there had been wearing him thin, and the clanking of the pots and pans and the moaning tedium of Dutch’s gramophone playing something longwinded and wistful over the sounds of his bitching with Molly had recently begun to fill Arthur with shame and dread and annoyance and regret.
Even still, as he rode away that evening, he knew that he was leaving something behind in Mary Beth. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Whatever potential there was there, it was gone now. He was a man, and he had thought of her fondly many times. He knew how women worked and Mary Beth was full of quiet looks and easy tells, tells he had given into once or twice in the time since he’d known her, but not anymore. He hoped he had not relied on her too much those past weeks.
Overall, he was unable to account for what she meant to him, as he was not very in touch with the things he felt beyond the impressionistic effects they inspired. She was kind and beautiful, but he did not want her that way, and even if he did, in some ways, want her, the last thing the world needed was another of his illegitimate children, running around, trapped inside a sad and lonesome existence. Her friendship was very important to him any how. He sensed its unconditional nature, and he knew that was rare for him, even amongst women who’d always had, for some reason, a penchant for fussing over his security as if he were a helpless creature even as he was not, and it had been like this since he was young. He was grateful and hoped to preserve her devotion with his own, though he would not have blamed her if she drifted away from him to find her own way and another man who would love her how she deserved. He just thought that, like him, she was prone to pleasing others almost like a compulsion, and he hoped that she did not come to rely too strongly on this aspect of herself. For he had fallen prey to that mistake, and it had cost him many years and in some ways, was still costing him to this day, even as he didn’t really know it.
Seeing Albert that night was like being crushed by a boulder. He was flattened and then at ease. Arthur realized something, which was that when you really know someone, and they really know you, not seeing them for a while does not cause disintegration of the ties that bind you. He, perhaps, did not realize how well Albert seemed to know him until that night. It took him for a fool.
“How are you?” Albert said as he closed the door behind them. His eyebrows went up with worry so you could see the little line in between them.
“I’m okay,” said Arthur. He held his hat with two hands in front of him. Glancing around he could see all of the things in the room and how they reminded him of Albert. Everything seemed neatly made and curated. He could tell which parts were just the hotel and which parts were Albert and his artistic regimen. There were the photographs, the little Chinese lanterns, a fine porcelain tea set and stacks and stacks of books. Arthur set his hat down on the purple sofa. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” said Albert, smiling after Arthur with a kind of weariness and relief. “John and Mary Beth came to see me.”
“I know they did,” said Arthur, taking a step toward him.
“They said you’d been in a bad scrape. Are you all right?”
Arthur nodded. “Mostly.”
“What happened?” said Albert. He was eager, but Arthur could tell he was trying to hold back. “I mean—will you tell me what happened?”
Arthur sighed. He spoke calmly. The room was dim, lit only with the Chinese lanterns and one little lamp by the window where he could tell Albert had been reading. “You remember when we got ambushed by those rough fellers out in the Big Valley that time?” he said.
“Of course,” said Albert. “How could I forget?”
“Well, it turns out that weren’t random. They wanted me, and, a few weeks ago, they got me. Or, their friends did, and their boss.”
Albert listened. “Why?” he said.
“Because,” said Arthur, “before you I ain’t much consorted with good people all that often, Albert. The man who—well let’s just say he’s a sorry son of a bitch and there’s a lot of bad blood. But it’s over now, and I’m alive.”
Outside, there was a bird on a wire, singing softly to the moon. Arthur wondered what kind of bird that was, singing in the nighttime. It was not so late that the tavern had silenced though, and you could hear the faint drumming of the voices below.
Albert smiled, nervous. “All right.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Albert studied Arthur then with a very strong focus. It was the kind of face he usually saved for his pictures, like he was searching for the thing that told the story. “If you say so,” he said.
Arthur went over to the photographs hanging from the clothesline. He sat down on the bed. It creaked beneath his weight. He hunched a little and placed his head in his hands. “The truth is,” he went on, feeling tired, “I’m just—I’ve been very bored, Albert. My life is filled with tedium. These past weeks, mostly all I did was read trashy novels given to me by Mary Beth, draw pictures of the water, heal, and think about you. I am relieved to be here.”
Albert had his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a pair of brown trousers with a light shirt, the collar undone. He came over and sat beside Arthur on the bed. “Does Mary Beth like to read?” he said.
“Very much,” said Arthur. “She reads more than anyone I know, and she reads more than just crap. But I guess she’s on some sort of crap spree lately, and she was dragging me along with her.”
Albert laughed at this, glanced. “She seems lovely.”
“She is,” said Arthur. “She’s a very good friend.”
Albert took a deep breath. He removed his hands from his pockets and placed them in his lap, looking at them. “I thought of you a lot as well, these past couple of weeks,” he said, smiling to himself. “And good god, have I been bored.”
Arthur found this amusing. “What you been up to?”
“Oh, you know,” said Albert. “The usual. Playing poker with magicians and taking pictures of French women holding balloons in the park.”
“Sounds incredibly strange to me,” said Arthur.
“I’ve also been reading,” he said. “Some things in Harper’s. Henry James. Dreadful stuff, bored me about to death. I think I would have preferred the crap spree with Mary Beth.”
“Well, that’s your own fault,” said Arthur. “If there’s anyone who deserved to be hanged, drawn, and quartered for his actions, it is Henry James.”
Albert chuckled. “Read him, have you?”
Arthur sort of waved this off. “I’ve read everything,” he said. “James is by far the worst. There are instruction manuals with more verve, if you ask me.”
Albert became wistful. “I missed you,” he said. “That was the consensus at the end of each day.”
“Yeah, me, too,” said Arthur. With little hesitation then, he picked up Albert’s hand. He studied the knuckles and how they were not so scarred as his own. He felt hurried, deep inside his chest. With his thumb, he traced the skin. Albert’s hands were not small. They were not as big as Arthur’s but they were not small. They were just finer.
They looked at each other then, at the same time, as if summoned. Arthur felt himself getting lost. “I’m feeling things,” he said, strangely.
Albert was there with him, inconspicuous in his anxieties. He seemed to feel the same way, however. “Me, too,” he said.
Arthur took a breath then, and they kissed, for the second time in their entire lives. It had been some weeks coming, and they were weightless from it. Nothing had changed. Their need, if anything, had actualized with time. This kiss was deeper and more meaningful than the last. For they had already done it once, and they knew it would work.
They parted briefly, as if to catch their breath and to look at one another in a sort of new awe. They were not simple men, but this thing between them, it was simple. They kissed again, and this time, it escalated. They were feeling past buttons and collars now, slipping out of their suspenders. Arthur leaned in to press Albert’s back to the bedspread. It was an instinct he understood, and Albert gave easily, tugging him closer by the collar, then by the waist. With his lips to Albert’s throat, Arthur felt himself letting go, but the moment he placed his full weight on his hands in front of him and began to lower, his left side seized painfully. The pain was bright and fast. It shot through out of nowhere and took over as an electric current, and he froze. He grunted loud, hung his head and took a deep breath through his nose, constricting his lungs so as not to expand them too quickly, as that hurt as well. He was disappointed and pissed off. The atmosphere, whatever it was between them sending them on their way, it dissolved instantly.
“Arthur?” said Albert. He hauled him up, back sitting with his feet both on the floor. Desperately concerned, he noticed the way Arthur was leaning and how he held that left side so gingerly. His shallow breaths were very disconcerting. “What’s the matter? How hurt are you?”
Arthur shook his head. It all seemed to be a great effort for him with his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not,” said Albert.
“I’m—” He composed himself, resituated on the bed so that he could face Albert but he kept his head hanging somewhat. “I guess I ain’t as healed as I thought I was. Or maybe the ride did me. I don’t know.”
Albert blinked. He placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, as if to comfort him, but he then seemed to realize how vastly he had underestimated what was going on. Assertively, he assessed Arthur’s posture and then pushed the shirt back off his shoulders, exposing the massive web of brand new, pink scar tissue in his shoulder and the fading but still ripe bruises around his lower left side. Arthur did not protest, even as he seemed embarrassed. The sight of him greatly disturbed Albert. “Oh, Arthur,” he said, shaking his head. He touched the scar with his fingertips, looked up. “This is not good.”
“I’m fine,” said Arthur, again. He shut his eyes and breathed. The pain was subsiding even as it was still something severe. “Really, I’m fine. You should've seen it before.” But then he felt Albert, further examining the bruises, the scar and all of the messed up business that had become his body. When he opened his eyes again and saw Albert’s face and the concern illustrated there so profoundly he didn’t know what to say.
“You don’t deserve this,” said Albert, looking straight at him.
Arthur shook his head, incredulous all of a sudden. “Albert, you don’t—”
“Yes,” said Albert, “I do. I know you. I don’t know what happened, but I know you, and you don’t deserve this.”
Arthur felt somewhat frayed. It seemed to take him by the throat. He had rarely encountered this sort of tenderness with men, and he had never processed what happened with Colm. It was too much for some reason, and when he blinked there were hot tears which he wiped away and bit back as quickly as they had materialized in the first place. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Arthur,” said Albert. “Don’t be sorry.”
“I know. I—”
Albert took him by the hand. He held it in both of his. Arthur could not remember what he was going to say.
“I know it is usually you dragging me up from the ledge, dear friend,” said Albert, “but there is a first time for everything, I suppose. Here we are.”
Arthur shut his eyes. It was almost funny.
“Please stay here tonight,” Albert continued.
Arthur gazed at him, feeling his pride going away, feeling helpless. “Okay.”
“Okay,” said Albert
He didn’t ask anymore questions after that or make any presumptions about what Arthur was or was not. A trolley went by, ringing its stupid bell as they continued holding hands, and there were voices of the people as there always seemed to be so many of them even in the late hours, moving through the streets, moving through their lives doing whatever it was they did with such speed. The nighttime bird on the wire had moved along now, leaving them alone. They were alone.      
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ohorthur · 6 years ago
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Of Things That Fall
Arthur x Reader
Summary: Arthur and the reader take a breather after a hunt. Comforting and the blossoming of a new relationship ensue.
This takes place shortly after the gang moves to Horseshoe Overlook.
Word Count: ~2100
A soft breeze rustled the tree leaves above you, allowing speckles of light from the setting sun to poke through the canopy and warm your face. A contented sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back on your elbows from where you sat to bask in the patterned beams.
Another sigh was emitted across from you, only it was one of frustration. You opened your eyes to see Arthur through the smoke rising from the fire between you. He was cooking the only food you two were able to catch during today’s little hunting excursion: one single rabbit. Or rather he was absentmindedly poking and prodding at it with his knife as it roasted on its makeshift spit. His hat covered the majority of his face, leaving only his almost childlike pout in your line of sight. It would’ve been endearing if he hadn’t seemed so troubled and upset over the past few weeks.
“Sticking it like that won’t make it cook any faster, Arthur,” you teased to lighten his mood. “Just sit back a bit. Enjoy the sunshine and be thankful we’re out of that goddamn frozen wasteland.”
The big man grumbled inaudibly in response. “You wanna speak up?” you prodded, casually flicking a fallen leaf off your shoulder.
“I said I can sit back once I’ve got enough food for everyone,” he grumbled louder.
“This’ll be enough for the two of us and it ain’t gonna run away. We can continue tomorrow. You can relax. Lord knows you’ve earned it.”
“I ain’t earned a damn thing,” he chuckled bitterly at your kind words. “The Lord would most definitely agree with me,” he added under his breath.
“Bullshit. You do more for this gang than anyone else. Everyone knows it. Hell, even Dutch probably realizes it, but good luck getting him to admit a thing like that.”
He put his knife away and a comfortable quiet washed over the two of you. Thinking the conversation was over you closed your eyes again and took in the delicious smell of cooking meat.
“I should be doing more though,” Arthur broke the silence. You suppressed an exasperated groan.
“Are you really gonna sit here and sulk over an unlucky hunt?” You knew there was more to this, but hopefully you could provoke him to open the floodgates.
“Folks are hungry and worn out from that goddamn snow. They need to eat to get their strength back, especially Hosea. But it ain't just that, it's...” he paused for a second, wringing his hands and shifting his feet across the dirt. “... Nevermind.”
The small spark of excitement that had formed in your chest was quickly extinguished by that word. You were hoping this hunting trip would provide an opportunity for him to open up about what was eating at him. You couldn't let him off that easy after he'd come so close to divulging the worries he kept locked away from the rest of the world to simmer in all alone.
You rose up from your spot and planted yourself next to him, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his. He tensed slightly. “It's okay, Arthur. You can tell me,” you encouraged softly. “I'm probably a better listener than that journal of yours anyways.”
A small huff of a laugh slipped through his chapped lips. Soon he relaxed under the warm weight of having you so close by his side. He looked down at you, his blue-green eyes scanning your features slowly and fondly. “You’re too kind to me.”
You just stroked his forearm to silently urge him on, not being able to help admiring the surprising softness of his exposed skin.
“A while back, Dutch said that he needed me in Blackwater. That I shoulda’ been there. The longer we was stuck up in those mountains, the more I thought about it. And I can’t help but feel like this is all my fault. Maybe if I was there, I coulda’ done something to make the job right. Maybe we wouldn’t have lost so many people at least. I just can’t seem to do right by our folk anymore. Even if I do, it ends up bad for other folk. The decent ones who just wanna live their lives in peace and don’t want nothin’ to do with us or our way of life.”
“Arthur, you can’t go blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong. The only thing you’re in control of is what you do in the face of things that you ain’t got no choice in. It’s impossible to act on the best option every time. Besides, we’re all in this together, so maybe we’re all to blame in a way. You can’t bear the burden alone. The world ain’t as clear cut as you like to make it out to be. It ain’t all your fault and it ain’t all someone else’s. Just like people ain’t all good or all bad.”
He took a moment to think on what you said. You couldn’t quite tell if he was actually comforted by your words or if he was dwelling on them out of consideration for your effort. But at the very least the mood was lifted and a weight, slight though it was, seemed to dissipate from his shoulders. His eyes were fixed on the fire, mesmerized by the swaying licks of flame.
“If I had as good a head on my shoulders as you do when I was your age - ” he began with a wistful grin.
“Oh please, don’t start with that,” you shoved him lightly in protest. “You talk about yourself like you’re an old man or something.”
“Because I am. Lately I ain’t been able to recognize myself when I look in the mirror,” he chuckled bitterly. He may have intended it to sound like a dark joke but the way his gaze broke from the brightness of the fire and began to trace the speckles of dirt, dried blood, and scars on his hands told you how serious he was. Suddenly your proximity seemed to be a source of discomfort for him and he tried to draw himself away from you and deeper into his unwavering shell of self-loathing.
“Stop,” you commanded firmly, surprising even yourself. You didn’t know if it was directed at his words or his sudden desire for distance. Maybe it was both. Regardless, your impulsiveness continued as one of your hands made its way up to the side of his face. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, okay? You’re hurting yourself… And you’re hurting me too.”
The warmth of his skin tempted you to run your thumb over his cheekbone and lean in closer. Almost imperceptibly, he nuzzled into your touch. Neither of you were breathing. All you could focus on was the sparkling blue of his eyes as they darted between yours in what was either panic or wonder.
Oh shit, you were leaning in. Why were you leaning in? His lips were getting closer.
And closer.
Closer.
Cl-
A barrage of leaves twirled between your forms, some even scraping across your face, as they were shaken from the trees by an unanticipated gust of wind. Startled and hyper-aware of your position, heat rushed up to your cheeks. You pulled away, snapping your hand back and nervously running it through your hair. Arthur meanwhile shifted uncomfortably, trying to find something to look at while he cleared his throat. Your mind raced to think of a way to make this not so unbearably awkward. Before you could settle on a solution, the wind picked up again, this time sweeping Arthur’s hat right off his head.
Jolting to your feet, you nearly tripped running after it. Luckily it didn't get too far and your fingers quickly found its familiar worn leather brim within a few yards. You were about to return it back to its loving owner, but an idea came to mind.
“So…” you twirled the hat on your finger. “If you’re as old a man as you claim to be, I bet you wouldn’t be able to catch me and take this back, would you?”
Your challenge was met with an unamused stare. “Are you serious? Now?”
“Why not? I know John ain’t here but I think I’m just as formidable an opponent on my own,” you grinned cheekily. Growing up, you and John frequently entertained yourselves by stealing Arthur’s hat to get a rise out of him. Your younger selves would run around camp and pass it between each other, trying to keep it out of his reach until Arthur caught one of you.
“...Give me my hat.”
“You’ll have to come get it.”
“I ain’t playin’ your games.”
“Suit yourself,” you sang, making your way back over to him with exaggeratedly slow footsteps. “It’d be a real shame if I accidentally dropped this in the fire before I reached you.”
“Fine,” he lunged up quickly. “You asked for it.”
With speed that you did not expect, he began his pursuit, startling you into motion. You darted left and right between trunks and branches, trying your best to stay out of Arthur’s grasp but still within sight of your small camp. Tiny cuts and scrapes were being etched into your skin from the foliage, but adrenaline was coursing through you too fast for you to notice.
Arthur was picking up speed. His fingers grazed your arm, drawing your attention back to him when you should have been looking ahead. You only realized your mistake after you tripped on a root. You braced for impact with the ground, but it never came.
Instead of the unforgiving embrace of the forest floor, you felt Arthur’s strong arms around you and his broad chest at your back. His warm breath fanned against your hair and neck sent goosebumps prickling across your skin. Shit, were you going to black out? It might have been better to fall. At least losing consciousness would’ve been easier to explain.
Before you knew it, he’d turned you around and propped you against a tree with his hands on your shoulders to face him. “You alright? Are you hurt?” he questioned, leaning down slightly to scan your form for injuries. All you could do was stare into his heaving chest and shake your head. His hat was still clutched against your own chest and served as the only barrier between you. One of his hands traveled up to wipe at a thin cut on your chin that you hadn’t noticed.
“I guess we match now,” you gave him a tired smile, finally locking eyes with him. Hopefully he wasn’t blind to your adoration.
“I suppose we do,” he chuckled. His warm breath mixed with your own, making you weak again. Something in his eyes changed that you couldn’t quite place. He gradually pried his hat out of your hands and tossed it aside on the ground. “Suppose I caught you too.”
Taking the final step that was separating you, he slowly eased forward as if drawn by a magnet. His chest was now pressed against yours, trapping you between his body and the tree. The pair of heartbeats caged within intertwined, made frantic first by the chase and now the catch.
This time the closeness was too overwhelming and your eyelids fluttered shut. You were about to hide into the crook of his neck but he held your head in place against the trunk, palms rough yet gentle against your cheeks and fingers tangling in your hair. Next thing you knew, his dry but soft lips brushed a whisper of a kiss against yours as if testing the waters.
You wanted more but he quickly pulled away, expression changing from a hungry daze to something much more bashful. Before he could lose his nerve and start apologizing, your impulsiveness struck again and you pulled him back to you by the collar of his shirt.
This time the pressure was more intense, the warmth and passion greater. All inhibitions seemed to finally melt away from both of you after years of a friendship full of lingering touches and stolen glances. Your whole being was ensnared by the sensation of his lips and his scent of gunpowder, wood, and smoke.
Come to think of it, he smelled a lot like smoke, unusually so. Oh shit...
“Mmm - Arthur,” you tried to alert him through the kisses in a panic. He simply grunted in response. You tried but failed to ignore the way the low rumble reverberated through his body and into yours. Still you pressed on.
“The rabbit is burning,” you managed to blurt out. He didn’t budge. Like a starving man, he resumed latching himself onto you with an insatiable hunger. He mumbled his response against your lips.
“Let it.”
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thehyperkraken · 6 years ago
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EDIT: yall idk why the actual fic isnt showing up in the tags but this shit is, bc thats literally the opposite of what i wanted, but for the love of god read the fic first and/or instead, that’s the thing i spent more than 20 minutes on: [link]
Hey random idea dump for that one fic i done did yeehaw... it’s almost longer than the fic itself but jesus christ i need to get these ideas out of my head and throw them into the internet ether, seriously don’t read this its a goddamn mess
So ghjkdf the actual plotty part of that fic came from that one b99 bit... the Bone one.....u kno
Arthur: Come on, Dutch. The O'Driscolls thing isn't the problem. You're in a bad mood because you've been so busy planning this heist that it's keeping you and Hosea apart. You two just need to bone. John: Oh no... Dutch: ...What did you say? John: Don't say it again! Arthur: I said you two need to bone. John: Oh my god... Dutch: (with barely contained fury) Hhhhhow Dare you Arthur Morgan, I am thIS GANG'S LEADER!!! You have NO RIGHT to comment on my sex life— (5 minutes later) Dutch, standing on top of a table screaming: BONE?!?!?! (10 minutes later) Dutch: What happens in my bedroom, son, is NONE of your business— (20 minutes later) Dutch, jumping up and down on the table: BOOOOOOONE!!!!!!!!! (40 minutes later) Dutch: And don't EVER speak to me like that AGAIN! (storms off) John, sunken down in his chair in horror: Why the hell did you do that? Arthur: (shrugs) They need to bone. John: Gross, Arthur! That's our dads!
And then like a day later gfdhkg
John: Oh hey Dutch! I know you don't want to talk about Hosea, BUT, I had an idea— Dutch: No need, John, it's all good. John: So... your fight with Hosea is over? Dutch: Yep. John: Because you finally figured out a plan for the heist...? Dutch: Nope! Arthur, excitedly: Because you guys—? Dutch: Yyyyep! Arthur, looking smug: Knew it. John: Ugh... Arthur: (leans down close to him) See, what happened is, our dads had sex— John: UGH, SHUT UP!
Another inspiration I had was John Mulaney’s bit about zoning out for John with adhd,,,,, the part where he’s like “the doctor was reading me the results of a blood test, it was IMPORTANT that I LISTENED, but NO, I zoned out, I was like, I’m just gonna stare at the wall and think m’thoughts” that’s why I wrote the part where John was like “ehhh attention deficient something something disease” bc it made me laugh gjhggdjh
Dutch: so the doctor says you have ADHD John: (thinking about minecraft) what?
Also unrelated but blease consider Arthur teaching John to drive like
Arthur: are you watching the road? John: ........I am looking through the windshield Arthur: John: .......and I’m not gonna hit anyone...... Arthur: John: ....but no. I’m thinkin’ about minecraft
(Also I don’t know anything about ssb I’ve played it once and hated it, minecraft is my og video game love, but Abigail beating John at ssb is funnier, I’m a fake gamer boy :^( rip)
ONE MORE INSPIRATION THAT ONE VINE ITS MY FAVORITE VINE
Arthur: are you drinking coke for breakfast? John: yeah, what did you have for breakfast? Arthur: ........nothing John: (sipping his drink) I’m doing better than you, then
Anyway onto ACTUAL IDEA STUFF HOORAY
So when Dutch and Hosea decided to adopt, they agreed they wanted to take in kids who needed good homes the most, so they were specifically looking for older kids who would probably age out of the system and wind up on the streets
They met Arthur who was a clearly depressed and gender non conforming thirteen year old who hated everyone and everything and wasn’t getting the Love he Deserved, and Dutch was like “I want THAT ONE, with the SAD EYES”
Arthur tried to push them away at first, cuz he absolutely didn’t trust anyone, and some part of him believed they’d just give him right back up for adoption if he disappointed them in any way. But he eventually learned that they were good guys who really just wanted to help him, and they weren’t gonna abandon him if he wasn’t the perfect kid they always wanted
(he probably told them about this fear eventually and Hosea just snorted and was like “if we wanted a perfect kid we woulda got a cabbage patch doll. something that wouldn’t scream or make a mess” and Dutch was like “yeah! or like a 27 year old with a job and their own house and kids of their own. pre-made grandkids” and Hosea was like “or a cat” and Arthur was like “...okay”)
Anyway it took a loooong time but Arthur eventually trusted them enough to come out to them as trans, without really knowing the proper words for everything, just knowing that He Is A Boy And That’s That. As much as Hosea is the one the lads go to to talk about stuff and get comfort and Wise Dad Advice, he probably told Dutch first bc he was more uncertain how he’d respond and he wanted to get it over with in the worst way possible.... like, if they were gonna react badly, heap all the bullshit on in one fell swoop
I imagine he did it off the cuff too, in response to something Dutch said, like Dutch was like “u get back here right now young lady” and Arthur was like “first of all I’m not a lady, I’m a BOY, and second of all FUCK you, I do what I WANT” and Dutch was like “groovy. you’re grounded.” Arthur was like (offended) “don’t say groovy... don’t try to be hip” and Dutch was like “no it’s totally tubular that ur a boy. It’s absolutely funky. You’re fucking grounded though”
Then he went and told Hosea like “congrats! it’s a boy” and they helped him transition and they didn’t tolerate a single person misgendering him the whole time. Like before he’s even begun transitioning, they’re literally at the doctors office to discuss it w/ their doc for the first time, and a nurse is like “ms. morgan?” And Dutch is like “INCORRECT” and the doctor is like “what seems to be the problem (deadname)?” and Dutch is like “FOOL! THIS CHILD WAS LABELED INACCURATELY, WE REQUIRE A GENDER RETRACTION” and Hosea’s like “please stop yelling”
Anyway probably about a year later they got John when he was ten and Arthur was fifteen. Arthur was a little bit jealous like, wow, am I not enough kid for u, but Dutch and Hosea always planned on getting at least two bc they wanted them to have siblings, and they know John came from a pretty abusive situation, so Arthur can’t be too mad at him. At least until he met John and realized what a fucking brat he is
Since John was younger and way more desperate for affection, he immediately loved Dutch and Hosea just bc they were nice to him, he was ready to call them his dads within the month but he was nervous that it was too soon and they’d be weirded out. But I imagine he got triggered by something and had a meltdown and they got to see just a glimpse of what he’d been through, and Dutch and Hosea were falling over themselves trying to comfort him and tell him they love him and now I’m making myself cry :’^(
Anyway... from that point on John was like “these are the only dads I’ve ever had and I would kill a man for them.” He gets in trouble quite a bit bc he’s Naughty, but Dutch and Hosea always make sure to punish him fairly and never yell or be physically intimidating with him or permanently take away his stuff, like they make him do chores to earn back the right to use the xbox or something. And they always explain to him exactly what he did wrong and why he’s being punished and talk to him about how he can make it better or what he can do next time, or if there’s a root problem, like he’s acting out bc he’s overwhelmed with school work or smthn, how they can help him. Especially after he gets diagnosed with ADHD
And of course they do all this with Arthur too, but they make a special concerted effort with John bc he’s The Baby :^) and Dutch somehow maintains an attitude of “idk what ur talking about, John has never done anything wrong ever in his life” every time he gets in trouble meanwhile Hosea is like “what do you MEAN, he’s a GREMLIN” fjfjfhhf
Arthur was probably diagnosed with depression and anxiety at some point... it was probably a long process to get him to even admit he had a problem bc he didnt wanna bother anyone... Arthur also probably came from an abusive situation from the way canon Arthur talks about his dad, but Arthur is much more the type to be like “i’m gonna keep all my feelings inside, and then one day, i’ll die” whereas John is like “i will SCREAM if i get a papercut”
[EDIT: i woke up in a cold sweat at 4 AM with this in my head so now i’m putting it here
Charles: So, Arthur... Do you wanna talk about your feelings? Arthur: No. John: I do! :) Charles: ...I know, John. John: I’m sad! :) Charles: I know, John.
i’m sure it’s been done before but it’s so good. ok now back to our regularly scheduled programming]
In regards to Arthur being trans, John doesn’t really Get It, Arthur tried to explain it to him once and John couldn’t care less, all he knows is Arthur used to be a girl or something, there’s tea involved probably, and John is thinking about minecraft again... he has 2 am thoughts about it sometimes and comes to Arthur like “what IS gender” and Arthur’s just like “hm. big mood”
Dutch is “Dad” and Hosea is “Papa” or “Pa” or “Pops” or “Dad, No Not You, The Other One” or “Other Dad.” Hosea really doesn’t mind at all, he wouldn’t care if the kids called him Hosea or mom or anything else, it truly isnt important to him. But Dutch Loves being Dad. Every time they call Dutch Dad he grows three times stronger and 10 years are added to his lifespan. Dutch is an Alpha Parent, he 100% goes to every parent teacher conference and bake sale, he’d go to every game and concert too if either of his kids had a single athletic or musical bone in their dumb little bodies. I guess the school probably hosts art galleries sometimes to display art the kids make, Arthur always has a drawing in one of those, and Dutch will absolutely go just to brag about his cool son.
Dutch is the Fun Energetic Dad who embarrasses the boys in front of their friends but can always be talked into taking them out to get ice cream. Hosea is the more quietly anxious dad, he makes sure they do their homework and keep their rooms clean and shit, and he's the one the kids always go to talk to when they’re having problems... like Arthur will rant for an hour and a half about high school drama and Hosea will patiently listen to all of it and when he's done he’ll offer to kick the other kids’ asses for him, and Arthur’s like lmao but Hosea Means It.
Hosea is also the one the kids go to for help on their homework because Hosea and Dutch have five brain cells between them, and four of them belong to Hosea. Dutch is like “suddenly I don’t remember basic math, time to make shit up” and Hosea is like “I must become an expert on 1820s Chinese history in two days for my beautiful sons”
I have NO idea what either of their jobs are, I wanna say Hosea is a lawyer or smthn but idk, Dutch is probably like......................a used car salesman LMAO...... they clearly make a lot of money (or maybe STOLE SOME) bc I gave them a huge house w/ a pool gjhkdhg
Anyway more about THE KIDS
They go to a school that is a combination middle school and high school, bc that’s what my school was like
Mrs. Grimshaw is the strict and irritable principal with a secret soft spot for kids, Mr. Pearson is the cafeteria cook, Strauss works in the office, I wanna say Rev. Swanson is a weird but friendly janitor or something lmao. Uncle is Dutch & Hosea’s annoying forever-drunk neighbor who everyone barely tolerates fjfjhfh
Micah is The School Bully but like bc this is a cutesy high school au and I can do what I want, he’s not actually like a violent racist or anything he’s just a bad mad sad kid who is a huge dick
Bill is Micah’s Bully Henchman, he’s generally not as much of a dick as Micah is, but he punches whoever Micah asks him to bc they are the closest thing to friends that either of them have
Trelawny is a new student who just moved from another school and he’s that fucking Weird Magician Kid who can’t hold a conversation longer than five seconds without saying “wanna see a magic trick,” tried to do some unimpressive card tricks for the school talent show, unironically wears a cape, etc.... Arthur stood up for him when he was getting pushed around by Micah and Bill so now Arthur has +1 more weird friend
Karen is the Popular Girl who somehow knows everyone, is probably a cheerleader, everyone is either extremely intimidated by her or thinks she’s gonna be a stuck up bitch, but she’s actually just super fucking chill and nice, WILL stab a man for her friends, she won’t hesitate bitch
Tilly is Karen’s bff who was getting bullied by *shakes fist* those dang foreman brothers.... Karen stood up for her and Tilly was like “no don’t u will get hurt!!” and Karen was like “ha... fool... cheerleaders cannot die” and whooped ass with her gymnastics skills and somehow got the foreman brothers expelled. So now Tilly is like “I owe u one (1) Life Debt” but Karen is like “nah it’s chill just come to target w/ me & we’ll call it even.” Tilly is just tryna get shit done and do her damn homework but everybody else is going on adventures and being nuisances so of course Tilly has to go too bc come on....... who do you take her for, some kinda two-bit GEEK? NO WAY
Mary Beth is a quiet nerdy girl who’s always reading or writing and never talks in class or anything. Karen and Tilly became her friends thru sheer brute force, Karen just sat by her one day n was like “sup” and Mary Beth was too shy to ask her to leave. They were surprised to discover Mary Beth is actually pretty nice and funny when you get to know her and also the Biggest Lesbian Alive
Sadie is a BAD BITCH... NOBODY fucks with Sadie, not even Micah, Sadie is the girl who when some dipshit boy spreads a rumor that he had sex with her, she agrees and tells everyone she pegged him and he cried after, she hasn’t given a fuck since 2007. she climbs on the roof to get lost frisbees. one time she got the gym coach to agree to give her an automatic A in the class if she did 100 push ups in 5 minutes. Then she Did That. She might have pulled several muscles in both of her arms but She Did That. Karen, Tilly, and Mary Beth (but mostly Karen) approached her like “damn that was sick” and Sadie was like “yea i know” and then they were friends
I literally don’t know anything about Sean I’m sorry...... maybe he’s a transfer student who becomes friends with John, they play Minecraft together and Sean boobytraps the houses John builds. Sean is the only living human being who understands how redstone works and he uses his powers for evil
Molly is going to a nearby community college and is working at the high school part time as a TA and she is like 19-20 or smthn so the kids all think she’s The Hottest Shit,,,, like they think she’s just the coolest hippest person alive, but also she is Very Attractive so fuckin everybody has a crush on her, most specifically Javier and Mary Beth. She ineptly tries to flirt with Dutch every time he comes to a parent teacher conference bc she’s dummy thicc and thinks it’s friendship goals that Dutch lives with and has adopted children with his Best Bud Hosea
The teacher Molly is TA for is Charles Chatenay, an all-grades art teacher who takes his job WAY too seriously, like dude chill they’re high schoolers. His class is where Arthur met Albert, bc Arthur loves drawing and obviously Albert loves photography. They were both like “wow he’s cute” but were too shy to talk to each other for more than basic pleasantries, until one day Albert’s Big Project was ruined a day or two before he was gonna turn it in, and Arthur helped him fix it.
They’re so sweet on each other it’s unbearable, they’re both Soft Boys so they fuckin blush if they make eye contact...... the most bold either of them get is when Arthur is feeling insecure about his body and Albert gladly tells him how perfect and handsome he is in every way, and he wishes he was half as gorgeous as Arthur is, and Arthur is like (offended) um, excuse me, how dare u insult my beautiful boyfriend in this way?? They both wanna grow beards so while they’re still going thru Changes they excitedly bond over their facial hair......... they run up to each other at school like LOOK AT MY NEW CHIN HAIR and the other one is like WOW!!! GOOD JOB
Javier has a big lovely family who spoil him rotten and tbh love to spoil his friends when they come over too, his parents are in a constant and devastating game of dish-gifting with Dutch & Hosea, Arthur and John have eaten more of Mr. & Mrs. Escuella’s tamales than any other food, neither Dutch nor Hosea are very good cooks but luckily Javier has plenty of aunts and uncles and cousins who are happy to occasionally take one of their unimpressive lasagnas or cakes from a box mix
Lenny’s cool dad in canon is the high school au dad of Charles and Lenny, he and Charles’s mom amicably divorced and he got remarried to Lenny’s mom, who is a Cool Stepmom to Charles. Charles and Lenny go stay with Charles’s mom all the time, in fact she was around so much when they were younger that she practically helped raise them both. maybe she gets a gf and Charles and Lenny have so many moms and are so loved & cherished like they fuCKIN DESERVE
Kieran is the weird horse girl at school, he’s Lenny’s age, they become friends when they’re forced to sit next to each other and they’re both too awkward and shy to say anything until they’re paired up on a project together bc everyone else in the class already paired up and they were the only ones left gjkhfd.... John wants to dislike Kieran bc Lenny is HIS friend now, but Kieran is a sweet lad with a mean dad.... His dad is Colm O’Driscoll, Dutch & Hosea’s other neighbor and Dutch’s sworn enemy
Dutch expects Kieran to be as shitty as his dad, but he is a SWEET BOY, and as soon as they realize his situation, they tell Kieran he can come over whenever he wants and spend the night any time, he doesn’t have to ask or anything, but Kieran is super respectful and always asks permission and always tries to come over when John or Arthur are there so he can go under the pretense of hanging out with them, bc he doesn’t wanna intrude...
Once he came over when Hosea was the only one home and he was like “hi Mr. Matthews are John and Arthur home” and Hosea was like “no sorry they’re out” and Kieran was like “oh... ok sorry I’ll just go then” and Hosea was like “absolutely not” and brought Kieran in and made him snacks and wrapped him in many blankets and watched a kids movie with him until he fell asleep on the couch... when Dutch came home he was like “??? new son ???” and Hosea was like “yea I guess. oops”
When Kieran gets older they help him become an emancipated minor and get a job and his own place (even tho he knows they’d let him stay with them if he wanted) and he changes his last name to his mom’s maiden name Duffy... Colm and Dutch glare at each other over their fences and Colm is like “enjoying stealing my son?” and Dutch is like “my son now” but Colm really doesn’t care bc he’s an asshole... and even tho they don’t legally adopt him, Kieran’s like “I’m more of a Van der Linde than an O’Driscoll” and oops i’m making myself cry again :’)
And yes Abigail does eventually teach John how to play stupid super smash bros. She’s Pro Gamer level of competent at nearly all video games and John has the biggest heart eyes for her, the end thank u for listening
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