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annasinterests · 1 year ago

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going out, she's getting into something

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: here's my contribution for the season, witches! i had SO much fun writing this piece and i hope to get out more for this month! i definitely didn't think it'd be this long but i absolutely loved where it went. also ten points if you could tell when the tone shifted because i started listening to mitski LOL

the dividers are by @saradika — be sure to check them out! 🤍

word count: 10.4k

pairings: arthur morgan x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, halloween time!!! tried to be historically accurate but then again this is fiction y'all, readers having the time of her life honestly, pining, cursing, mentions of alcohol, perhaps some errors??, and some wholesome moments here n there :) — please tell me if i missed anything!

“I already told you girls, the answer is no.”

She didn’t look up from her washing basin as she gave a firm response, her voice tinged with fatigue from the relentless persistence on this matter.

Miss Grimshaw– the unyielding matriarch of the gang– always looking out for the best interest of the camp, even if it meant extinguishing your hopes of a joyous venture beyond its confines.

Normally, you’d accept the answer and move on. But this time, that wasn’t the case. No, you’d been going at it all this week, employing every conceivable tactic to sway her decision– most of which involved volunteering for additional chores atop your designated ones already– because today wasn’t just any other day.

It was Halloween.

And you were damned if you weren’t going out to celebrate it in all its glory.

“Ms. Grimshaw, please,” you continued to beg, “I won’t ask for a thing more!”

The ceaseless scrubbing paused, her hands moving to wipe across her skirt before pressing them against her forehead, muttering words only audible to herself. You stood before her eagerly, hands folded neatly over your apron, shoulders squared– striving to project an aura of innocence that might influence her.

She shook her head as her hands fell hard on her lap, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “Go ask Dutch. If he says it's fine, then you girls can go.”

The elation you felt at her response made you want to dart away before she could have second thoughts, yet your feet remained in the same spot of the muddy grass your heels slowly sunk into. She eyed you as she stood up, your presence a mystery even though she’d already granted your request.

Even though she kept you all on a tight leash, her actions were rooted in sound judgment.

The whole reason there was any stability at camp at all was because of her, no matter how long or short you stayed in some places. She possessed an innate sense of what needed to be done, always placing the welfare of the camp, and more particularly, her girls, at the forefront, even if she had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

“Won’t you come out, too?” Maybe it was naive of you to ask, given she almost never step foot outside camp unless absolutely necessary.

Her hardened stare softened for a moment, peering behind you at camp momentarily as if she really were contemplating it. Her gaze returned to you, her eyebrows drawn together with the faintest curl on her lips.

“What happened to not asking for another thing?”

With a small smile and nod, you excused yourself and set out to find Dutch.

Much to your surprise, he wasn’t in his tent, and a lack of an answer of his whereabouts from Ms. O’Shea didn’t help. Nor did one from Javier out on the post claiming that he hadn’t seen him ride in or out today. And through your thorough search around camp, none revealed a trace of the man you eagerly sought.

On your way back to his tent for a second try, you recognized a figure donning a signature white shirt and black vest standing at the far end of camp, where the view was best of Horseshoe Overlook.

Your smile grew wider with each step to approach him, only calling his name when you were within a few feet.

“Dutch! Can I-”

While your voice caught his attention, it had also gotten the man who stood just nearby him, concealed by the trees until now. You came to an abrupt stop, flickering your widening gaze between the men, feeling hot embarrassment creep onto your cheeks.

It’d been Arthur.

He’d only looked over his shoulder to you, still facing the canyon with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. The brim of his hat rested just above his eyes as he appraised you, running his eyes up and down your figure.

“I’m sorry..” Your hands instinctively folded against your stomach, “I didn’t realize you were..”

A low chuckle rumbled from Dutch’s chest as he approached you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Nonsense, Miss. Arthur and I were just enjoying the view. Why don’t you join us?”

Your gaze shifted from Dutch’s to Arthur’s, who maintained his position with his chin tucked over his shoulder. He gave no indication as to whether or not your presence affected him, and a slight unease settled in as he was usually quick with a polite comment or sarcastic remark, but he did neither and continued to look at you.

Returning your attention to Dutch, you found him patiently waiting for your response– one hand lingering on your shoulder while the other was outstretched in an invitation to join them at the plateau.

Your lips curled up into a small smile as you walked forward, Dutch appearing to your right and Arthur to his.

The view was nothing short of breathtaking. Below and in the distance, dense forests and mountain ranges stretched for miles, a white veil of mist shrouded at the peaks, and the Dakota River flowed through the canyon, its waters reflecting the brilliant blue of the sky.

What made the scene even more enchanting was the weather– the sun shining bright with barely any clouds to obstruct its rays, its warmth a delight on your skin. The air was crisp in a way that each breath rejuvenated your lungs, a cool and fresh quality trademarked by the fall season.

“What do you think, Miss?” He asked without averting his gaze.

You turned to him, stealing another glance before you, “Pretty as a picture, Dutch.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he softly echoed your sentiment. “Indeed it is.”

For a moment, your eyes fell to Arthur. Like Dutch, he made no move to look away, fully immersed and reveling in the simple pleasures of the moment. His hat still lowered over his eyes, shielding sunlight from those bright blues that could be the sweetest or most intimidating sight. His facial scruff was perfectly tailored for the season– substantial yet manageable, complementing his rugged appearance.

Even in his relaxed stance, you could see his clothing fighting to fit around his muscles, especially in the shoulders and arms. The cuffs of his sleeves clung snugly to his forearms, the contours of his strength evident in raised veins and muscular definition. His thumbs remained tucked into his belt, his large hands lazily curling over it, an embodiment of quiet strength and presence.

A flurry of thoughts swirled in your head– the loudest among them an undeniable realization of just how incredibly attractive this man was.

And how this definitely wasn’t the first time you were thinking this.

You hadn’t realized that you were looking right at him while your thoughts were running wild, and immense embarrassment hit you like a freight train when your eyesight focused on him staring right back at you.

To compound your mortification, your initial reaction was to smile– a smile that aimed to conceal the fact that you had been thoroughly checking him out. You tried to maintain some air of sweetness and innocence, but you knew he could see right through it.

It faltered when he broke contact and looked down, his hat serving as a convenient shield to hide his face entirely. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip, cursing your own lack of composure. It was painfully obvious. You’d gone ahead and made a fool of yourself in front of the man.

Dutch’s voice interrupted your thoughts and commanded you to pull your attention back.

“Camp’s in mighty fine shape thanks to the help of you women here,” he remarked, finally looking at you. “Your contributions are always valued.”

You smoothed out your skirt, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Wouldn’t be as good as it is without Miss Grimshaw. That woman is the glue that keeps us together, I swear by it.”

“That she is.” He agreed, “But with all the effort you ladies put in, I ought to say that you girls deserve a little time to yourselves. Not in camp, that is.”

Your jaw slacked and eyes sparkled with excitement. Barely able to contain the thrill that coursed through your body, your hands began to gesture emphatically as you started up.

“Actually, that’s why I was looking for you!” A grin spread on his face as he took notice of your demeanor, “The girls and I have been dying to go out!”

You caught Arthur lift his head to you, but continued on.

“We would love to go out to town,” you reached out and grazed his arm as he listened, “pleeease, Dutch. Just for tonight?”

He nodded, that reassuring hand finding your shoulder again. “Of course, how could I say no to that?”

You beamed at him, buzzing with even more excitement.

“Where would you ladies like to go? Valentine? Perhaps even Strawberry?”

You bit down on your lip again in a futile attempt to suppress the wicked smile that grew on your face, sheepishly shrugging your shoulders. “Saint Denis?”

“Saint Denis?” Arthur interjected before anyone could speak, stepping in front of Dutch and briefly glancing at you, “Dutch, that’s–”

“Quite alright if that’s where they want to go,” Dutch smoothly derailed his refute, “Arthur.”

But Arthur, being the obstinate man he was, didn’t heed the cue. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head, “That's far, Dutch. Too far.”

Dutch fell silent for a moment, drawing a hand to his hip and shifting his weight to one foot. You wanted to say something to counter Arthur’s point, but you knew his standing with Dutch, so contradicting him could jeopardize your argument, especially after Dutch had already expressed his approval.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing we’ll all be going to Saint Denis tonight.”

Dutch’s ability to orchestrate a plan that convinced everyone to head down to Saint Denis was a mystery to you, but the best part was that you had absolutely no responsibility in their efforts to move camp for a night.

Because the only thing you had to focus on was having fun.

After Dutch’s final say, Arthur grumbled, shook his head, and retreated back into camp. It likely didn’t improve his mood when you broke the news to the girls and you all erupted in joyful shouts and jumped around, clinging to one another out of pure delight.

Or when you all approached Lenny and Javier in front of him to ask if they’d take you to town and they agreed without putting up the slightest fight.

Or when you couldn’t resist teasing him by suggesting that he wear his best costume for the evening ahead, earning you a glare that you couldn’t help but smirk at.

You hadn’t even had the chance to get out a proper goodbye to the boys as Tilly grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off the wagon to emerge yourselves in the scene of the town, disappearing into the crowds on the paved streets and dodging the ever flowing trams.

Jack O'Lanterns adorned nearly everywhere you turned, perched atop picket fences that lined the slums to the mansion district. Hay bales, while adding to the festive atmosphere, served as a dual purpose as both sustenance for horses and a playground for children to climb upon– an amusing sight that elicited giggles from you.

Karen had led you all into the markets where several vendors hunkered down for the long night ahead, selling various treats and services from harvest foods, to jewelry, to fortune tellings. They all beckoned and invited you over with their expert sales tactics, and usually you would be able to just ignore them, but given today, you gave in to a woman at a jewelry stand.

You and the girls encircled her table and ogled at all the shiny pieces before you, your hands hovering over a splendid array of rings, earrings, and necklaces. With the utmost care, you picked up a ring to examine it further, capturing the saleswoman's attention.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous.” Mary-Beth leaned in to admire it with you, “I’ve never seen somethin’ quite like that before.”

She was absolutely right; it was one of the finest pieces you’d ever seen, far surpassing what you’d observed other women wear. It was a tri-colored gold ring– a dainty gold rose in the middle, flanked by a pink and green leaf to each side, all set against a band crafted with a delicate weaving pattern.

“Would you like to try it on?” The woman offered with a kind smile. “See how it fits?”

You slipped it on your ring finger with ease, gently turning your wrist to admire it from different angles. It hugged against your skin like it was meant to be.

But when you looked down at the price tag, you quickly changed your mind.

“This is a very lovely piece,” you took it off and placed it back on the table, earning a raised brow from Karen, “but it’s more than what I can offer.”

The woman simply nodded at your honesty. You were well aware that most items in these markets were overpriced, with prices inflated to maximize profit, but you felt that this one was truly worth it’s value. With a polite smile, you stepped away from the table and began to walk off with the girls, your heart feeling a little heavy but knowing it wasn’t the end of the world.

But a gentle hand on your elbow caught your attention, pulling you away from the group– the woman.

She took your hand and cupped hers over it, feeling a small object fall into it. Silently, she observed as her hand revealed what she’d given you.

The ring.

Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape and your eyes widened, quickly covering it with your other hand.

“Ma’am, I can’t possibly– I don’t have enough–” Her hand on your arm again made you quiet.

“You could’ve easily stolen it from me, but you told the truth and walked away.” Her smile was warm as she plucked the ring from your hand and slipped it on your finger. “Not many people do that here in Saint Denis.”

You looked at her sympathetically, holding her hands in your own, “How can I repay you?”

She grinned and leaned in to whisper, “Come back if you wind up stealing from anyone else.”

You muffled your laughter with a hand over your mouth, giving her a knowing look as she playfully shooed you off with a wink.

You were certainly going to pay her another visit.

Rejoining the girls, you discreetly but excitedly displayed your new possession, allowing each of them to take a turn at holding it up to their faces for a closer look, their voices filled with admiration for its beauty.

Moving out of the markets, you came across the park of Saint Denis. A massive tent had been pitched across the field with people busy setting it up for the evening’s events, clearly designed to cater to a younger crowd. Beneath it were several rows of seats arranged in front of a stage that featured a couple of large basins evenly spaced apart– instantly recognizing it for apple-bobbing. Taking notice of the flairs of red gingham about the area, it made you smile with the detail put into celebrating the day.

The girls had been chattering excitedly about something you hadn’t been fully tuned into, but you snapped back to attention when Karen seized your hand and urged you to run.

Spinning around, Mary-Beth and Tilly were a few paces ahead to your right while Sadie came bolting closer from your left, a wicked grin spread on her face as she pointed towards the other two girls.

“Jump on that trolley!”

Without a second thought, you began weaving in and out of the crowd, your knees kicking your skirt up with each leap. Laughter escaped from you as you heard the startled cries of townsfolk being pushed aside in your hasty getaway, though you really had no idea why you were running at all.

You grabbed Tilly’s hand and hauled yourself up as Mary-Beth did with Karen, whipping around and sticking your hand out for Sadie who was too far away for your liking. Your heart was pounding as the men behind her were catching up, your smile from the adrenaline dropping and turning into panic.

Glancing back, you saw the trolley was due to turn a corner, inevitably too quick for Sadie to keep up with. Your panic escalated until you spotted a way to effectively cut off her pursuers– a tall stack of hay bales just waiting to be tipped over.

Swiftly, you sat on the rail and leaned back with the three girls holding your legs and waist, giving you the ultimate leverage.

“Sadie!” You shouted. “Cut the corner when I say!”

A thumbs up from her was good enough for you. You quickly alternated your gaze between her and the approaching corner, slowly leaning back and stretching out your arm until you couldn’t anymore, your adrenaline pulsing through your entire body now.

With one last look, you yelled your cue, and at the last moment threading your fingers through a band of twine and yanking with all your might.

Slowly, then all of once, they came tumbling down like you intended, fellow townspeople causing an even bigger commotion– or distraction, for your case. The men had no choice but to stop, tripping over the bales and crashing into other people, your plan executed perfectly except for one crucial detail– Sadie.

Frantically, you scanned the crowd, gripping the rail so hard that you were sure to put a dent in it. Shit– Had they got to her after the cut?

Before you could conjure a series of worst-case scenarios, she came sprinting from your right and jumped on to the trolley with ease, all of you ushering inside and taking a seat to catch your breaths.

“I keep tellin’ ya' to trade that skirt for pants, girl.” Sadie smacked your knee, “With quick thinkin’ like that, it’s a waste you don’t get out more.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. The thrill of doing jobs got you antsy, seeing it was something that you could seriously enjoy once in a while, but being a caretaker was what you were at heart. You liked providing stability in a different way.

“What in the hell was all that about?” Karen asked before you could while fanning herself with her hand, “You’re supposed to save the mischief for later, ya’ know.”

Sadie smirked and raised her hands defensively, “I may have miscalculated some things, but–” she dug into her pockets and revealed two handfuls of money, jewelry, and pocket watches. “I think it was worth it.”

You sighed back into your seat as Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen hovered over to get a better look, “I say we take that and go straight to a saloon.”

Sadie shot you an incredulous look, “I just worked my tail off for this, and you wanna spend it already?”

“No–” You dragged a hand over your face and huffed out a laugh, “For bets, idiot. Take more from their pockets, but the fair way.”

She contemplated for a moment. “I ain’t very good at table games.”

“I am!” Karen perked up.

You shot a sly look at Sadie, the dots connecting immediately. And just as you found your new activity for the next couple hours, the trolley slowed to a stop, and you all quickly hopped out the back and right into Doyle’s Tavern.

Hours in, Sadie was racking up more cash and treasures than all five of you could even carry.

It’d been more packed than when you first entered, the festive spirit flourishing through the establishment. On top of all the autumnal decorations already in place, skeletons dangled behind the bar and burning candles littered about to give the right impression of mischievous yet inviting. Round tables were busy with patrons, some full of drinks, others invested in rounds of poker or dominoes– like your own. And when you weren’t glued to a game, you were at the bar flirting your way for a free drink or charming men just to get close enough to discreetly pilfer valuables from their person.

Now, you sauntered over to Karen’s side after taking a brief stroll and glance at Sadie’s hand from the opposite side of the table. While you weren’t intimately familiar with poker, you knew what constituted the best possible hand, and it just so happened that your dear friend held that in her fingers without even knowing it.

You could see the men at the table underestimating her, their smug smiles stemming from her being the lone woman and their belief that they held the winning hand.

But none of them came close to a royal flush.

Nudging Karen, you whispered your observation, a smirk appearing on her face instantly. She shot Sadie a wink– the cue to let them have it– and watched the scene unfold as she splayed her cards across the table.

Their smug smiles dropped to open-mouthed astonishment and disapproving grumbles, slamming their hands down on the table and begrudgingly pushing their bets towards her. She kept her head down in a noble act, but it was really to hide the shit-eating grin on her face as the table cleared and her opponents drudged to the bar for another much needed drink after losing their fourth consecutive round.

Sadie joined you at the side as you all began to leave with the earnings. “God, why don’t we do this more often?” She mused while placing a chunk of wealth into your hands, “Better than the guys doin’ busted-up, ass-backwards jobs if ya’ ask me.”

Mary-Beth spun around and walked backwards as she received her cut, “Well we would if Miss Grimshaw wasn’t such a damn witch.”

“Mhm,” Karen agreed over her shoulder, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw her ridin’ a broom tonight.”

Amid their hearty laughter, you quietly chuckled. You knew that despite her being a hell-bound handler, she loved you girls more than anything.

“Y’all are terrible,” you playfully chided while poking them in the back, “both of you!”

The sun had set as you entered the streets of Saint Denis again, now lit up by streetlights, candles, and Jack O’Lanterns. Your eyes twinkled at the sights, the town completely transforming for the night life. Children roamed the sidewalks in noisy groups, no doubt ready to wreak havoc and fully embody the spirit of mischief. Townsfolk flooded in front of every tavern, saloon, and vicinity that promised alcohol, money, and a good time.

But what really caught your eye was the other women– more precisely, their attire.

Left and right you spotted the most beautiful Victorian dresses you’d laid eyes upon– rich in color and carefully designed with the best materials money could buy– and as well as soft and colorful medieval gowns that fluttered and flowed in the gentle breeze. You couldn’t help but stare in awe of their beauty and how well-fitting they were for the evening.

Sadie saw your hands curl around your money as your eyes flitted around and a sly smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Ya’ know, there’s a boutique just around the corner.”

You shrugged at the idea, but she insisted. “Don’t give me none of that– Go on, go get yourself somethin’ pretty,” she bumped you with her elbow, “I know you wanna.”

You bit your lip as a smile crept on your face, glancing down at your hands and back to her while slowly backing away.

“Give me five minutes.”

It was a lie.

Five turned more into twenty with trying on several different dresses before finding the one.

Initially, you tried on the first dress you saw in the window of the shop, a gorgeous navy dress with an integrated corset between the flared skirt and puffy sleeves. However, the bustle was more than you bargained for, and you certainly didn’t fancy the look of having a shelf on your backside. The mirror in the fitting room let you know that the ‘regal’ look was something you weren’t interested in.

The second was a significant improvement from the first. It leaned toward a more gothic style, featuring a mix of black and red satin, as if the red were a robe draped over the black gown, yet both were stitched together seamlessly. Strings criss-crossed over the bust and torso, giving it a unique backward corset appearance, and the sleeves were long and chinched near the elbows. It even came with a hood adorned with black lace trim– a distinctive feature compared to most gowns you had seen. You loved how it looked and felt, but there was a persistent voice in your head that told you it looked too cultish, especially with the hood. In the end, your conscience had guided you out of the fitting room and onto the next.

Picking through the collections had consumed more time than you had anticipated, and your impatience grew as you felt your precious night slipping away.

Nothing was catching your eye and you just wanted something.

You looked out the window to all the bodies strolling through the streets– laughing, smiling, talking– while you were wasting time away finding a silly dress to wear.

The sound of the bell above the door ringing brought you back as a couple customers entered the store, a trio of young women in animated conversation about accessories and making a bee-line for the displays. But as you eyed them, your gaze shifted to just the right of them, falling on exactly what you were looking for.

There it was– a long, crimson floor-length skirt cinched at the seam under the bust, paired with a striking black blouse. But this wasn’t just any black blouse. No, it had balloon sleeves with exaggerated cuffs adorned with buttons that matched the body, and a stunning combination of lace and mesh on the collar that extended gracefully from shoulder to shoulder.

Not wasting another second, you swiped it and practically flew in and out of the changing room, taking a look in the mirror afterwards and absolutely falling in love with how it looked on you. It was comfortable and conventional with a dash of sexy– a match made in heaven! You slid a wad of cash across the counter to the gentleman in exchange for a paper bag for your other clothes and were quickly out the door.

Clutching the bag, you navigated the labyrinthine alleyways and main roads of Saint Denis in search of your girls, thinking just when you found them, it was just another bunch that looked similar from afar. Head on a swivel, you did your best to avoid getting distracted by the lively celebrations around you, despite your strong desire to join in.

So set on your mission, you didn’t even think to look both ways before nearly stepping in front of an oncoming trolley– being saved by a large hards on your arm and waist.

“Oh!–” You palm flew over your chest as you gasped, “I– Thank you! I didn’t even see where I was going!”

“Quite some timing there,” the figure chuckled, “we just got here.”

We?

Looking up, you were met with Charles looking down at you with a kind smile, putting you at ease. In the not-so-far distance, you saw Dutch, Jack, and Kieran hitching their horses and making their way over to you.

“I see you girls have been busy!” Dutch declared as he grandly gestured to your new clothes. “Having fun I hope?”

You nodded politely. Fun and causing trouble, but who were you to spill about that?

A satisfied grin crossed his face, “We’re off to meet the others at Mayor Lemieux. Care to join us, Miss?”

Reuniting with the rest of the gang? Say less.

Before you could answer, you remembered the bag in your hand and looked down at it, your thoughts not lost on the men around you. Not that your old clothes were worth much in a town like Saint Denis, but they were still yours.

“You three go on, we’ll meet you there.” Charles insisted to Dutch, then turned to you as they walked away. “You can leave your stuff with me, it’ll be safe.”

You smiled as he just knew what to do, the protective side of the men you always appreciated. A short walk over to the stables, where he insisted on keeping his horse rather than in the open, and stowing your things later, you were back on track to the mansion district– after some jokes about all the wealth you’d been carrying, of course, and keeping a couple pieces on you for when you saw your market friend.

You marveled at the increasing crowd in the town– kids’ laughter echoed through the streets that mingled with the roars and singing reverberating from every saloon, and occasionally, there were startled shrieks of terror caused by juveniles of the night. You made comments about the atmosphere and were very careful to stay out of the way of the ongoing trolleys, a small inside joke brewing between you both.

In Charles, you felt a strong sense of safety and trust. He was one of the few men you believed to be genuinely good, his only flaw being part of a criminal gang, but even that could be justified with loyalty. He was kind and respectful, not just towards women, but towards everyone. He was someone to have on your side, always.

“So, is everyone really out here?” You inquired, “I didn’t think that Dutch could really rally everyone up to come into town.”

“For the most part,” Charles shrugged, “a couple of them wanted to stay and watch camp. Said they weren’t too big on celebrating.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who decided to hang back?”

Charles chuckled and glanced at you, teasing, “What’s got you so curious? Expecting somebody?"

Your cheeks burned at his question. You hadn’t been thinking of him until this very moment.

“Maybe I was praying for a miracle that Micah didn’t come.”

He laughed louder this time, “Well, it was answered.”

You cracked a smile at your banter, but now your mind was totally elsewhere and remained that way well into the district, the buzzing of your thoughts stopping at the front entrance of Mayor Lemieux’s estate.

Before you was a huge mansion, white with pillars supporting the sprawling balcony that extended to each side of the house and a wide staircase that led up to an opulent wrap-around porch. From the outside alone, you could tell that every inch of this property was occupied between the amount of people and staff.

Charles led the way into the estate, making sure you didn’t lose him along the way as you looked about. You thought the exterior was grand enough already, but the interior proved to be much more. The flooring in each room varied, from carpet, to tile, to wood– all extravagant. As soon as you stepped inside, a staircase greeted you and split off into two more on each side for the second level, all lined with a rich red and gold carpet. The walls were lined with exquisite light fixtures and portraits of people you couldn’t even begin to name, and an enormous chandelier hung over the center of the entrance, adding to the luxurious ambiance.

Making your way to the back, you grabbed a drink and some hors d’oeuvres off a tray from a nearby server, nursing the drink and nibbling on the food a little bit at a time. As if you thought the place couldn’t be anymore rich, the gazebo and water fountain in the backyard told you otherwise. It was also now that you noticed that the estate had been on the water which reinforced its extravagance. Every single detail had been thought out to make this place the go-to spot for the people of Saint Denis between the assortment of food and beverages, games, decorations– everything.

Your favorite part, though? Finding your people again.

The girls cheered as you locked eyes at the same time, flocking to you and immediately forcing you to spin to show off your attire for the evening. Charles rejoined Dutch, Jack, and Kieran again as they watched you five with amused expressions.

“Next time, we’re comin’ with,” Sadie raised her glass to yours, “five minutes my ass.”

You sheepishly smiled at her and clinked your glass against hers while looking around, “Where’s everyone else? Charles said-”

“There she is!”

Your voice froze as you heard the familiar sound of a particular woman, turning around to meet them.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up.”

Your face dropped.

“Miss Grimshaw?”

She took complete pleasure in your utter surprise, sporting a smirk as she sipped from a glass of dark liquid. You approached her, gesturing to say something, but words eluded you, earning a chuckle from her. She savored her drink and waited patiently, her smug expression unyielding until you finally found your voice.

“I didn’t think you wanted to-”

“Celebrate the Day of the Dead? I don’t.” You raised your eyebrows at her bluntness. She took a few steps towards you, “But it beats bein’ in that camp for once. And free drinks ain’t so bad either”

There’s the Susan Grimshaw you knew.

You were quiet as she surveyed your attire, ruffling your sleeve from awkward creases and smoothing it afterwards. Her gaze drew up to your face, looking everywhere but your eyes, making sure all your hairs were in place and that you didn’t just walk straight out of a barn. She placed her fingers under your chin and tilted up to her.

“Don’t be dumb. Don’t be stupid. And don’t go diggin’ up graves. Ya’ hear me?”

You smirked. “No promises.”

She rolled her eyes as her hand dropped, smacking you on the shoulder. “Lord, y’all are the reason I have all these grays.”

She winked at you as she moved on from your conversation, and when you turned back to your friends, they had vanished.

Again.

You let out a suppressed laugh at the circumstances. Of course– if you weren’t glued to their hip, you were bound to lose them. And with as many people there were, finding them again wouldn’t be easy. So, you chose not to.

Swiping another drink from a passing server, you wandered about the property and drank while you observed the various scenes that played out. Suited men overindulging in beers and politics, staff lingering in the corner and gossiping in hushed tones, and young women trying to appear more desirable by loosening buttons or letting a sleeve slip off their shoulders.

The further into the night, the more increasingly bold and uninhibited people became, embracing the wicked and mischievous aspects of the holiday. You noticed it more as you went about the district, slipping in and out without attracting much attention– a level of anonymity you found strangely enjoyable.

The only interruptions were the occasional sightings of familiar faces when you were least expecting them– like Lenny and Kieran on the corner of a saloon, or Karen and Sean talking it up on the staircase of another mansion. Despite their lack of acknowledgement, you still grinned towards them and continued your exploration.

As you came across one of the last estates, you’d barely stepped foot on the property before hearing your name shouted out, causing you to jump.

“Over here, Miss!”

Realizing it to be Dutch beckoning you over, you relaxed and crossed the yard to join at his side, accompanied by a few unfamiliar men. You graciously made their acquaintance and accepted a drink offered by Dutch.

“Gentlemen, this here is one of Van Der Linde’s finest.” He bowed to you, eliciting a shy chuckle out of you, “Truly, she’s one of a kind.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” the man to your left winked in your direction. He extended his hand to you, “It’s a shame we haven’t met earlier.”

He was conventionally attractive; kept hair, clean shaven, chiseled features, well dressed. His accent you couldn’t particularly place but found it interesting nonetheless– carrying a definitive air of sophistication.

Taking his hand, he brought it up to his face and kissed the top of it– an act that normally would be acceptable, but you got an icky feeling from him. You bowed your head only to be polite, finding words unnecessary.

“What do you say, dear, let me take you for a drink and have the privilege of getting to know all about Van Der Linde’s finest?”

The bold request had you raising your eyebrows and an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You flushed with embarrassment, was this really happening right now, especially in front of Dutch? It felt so wrong. You didn’t realize how long you’d been silent until another voice interjected.

“She ain’t interested.”

Your eyes widened and back straightened at the deep drawl.

Arthur.

His imposing presence settled beside you, taking the opportunity to steal a glance at him while he was focused on the gentleman before you. It turned into a double-take once you realized what he was wearing.

His hands held his trusty gun belt over a pair of dark pants– jeans, maybe, but it was hard to discern in the dim light. He swapped his typical suspenders for a ragged dark brown leather belt, a unique change yet fitting one. And his shirt– God, his shirt– a white and red gingham button-up that he filled out perfectly with cuffed sleeves. Now that was different, and probably not his preferred style deep down, but you loved it. Even his hat was different, trading his father’s for a much fancier one with a wide front dip and roll, as well as the band featuring brass rifle bullets.

You couldn’t help but gawk. He looked so damn good, and also the only one out of the gang that actually dressed up for the occasion.

“Last I checked, I was speaking to the lady.” The gentleman puffed his chest a bit, elegantly gesturing to you.

Arthur chuckled lowly, his demeanor remaining cool, “Yeah, well, last I checked the lady wasn’t talkin’ back.”

The gentleman, clearly insulted, narrowed his eyes on Arthur as his fingers pinched the stem of his wine glass– the difference between their behaviors clear as day. During their small exchange, you kept your eyes on your hands that held a drink, though you weren’t interested in it much at the moment.

“It’s clear you’ve made her uncomfortable with your poor manners,” the irony of his words made the faintest smile curl on your lips.

Arthur laughed louder, turning to you and draping a hand behind your back while the other settled on his belt still, “Miss, have I made you uncomfortable with my poor manners?”

You met his gaze with a knowing look, biting your lip to fend off the smile that was deepening at him fucking with the man. You knew the answer, and so did Arthur, and you got a kick out of his way of making him look like a fool.

“What poor manners?” You raised your drink to your lips to further conceal your amusement while maintaining eye contact with Arthur, a smirk appearing on his face.

“See? She just ain’t wanna talk to you.” Arthur’s hand pressed against your back, directing you to move, while he tipped his head and gestured a farewell, “Now, you gentlemen have a fine night.”

As you walked further away you could hear bits and pieces of Dutch attempting to soothe the situation, which, to you, sounded like a lot of ass-kissing to salvage whatever relations he had built with those men before suffering a blow from Arthur.

Speaking of him– your skin was warm where his hand touched and guided you, steady as he maneuvered you both through the crowds. It was reminiscent of the feeling you’d had with Charles earlier, but with Arthur, it was different– more intense. Even from behind, you could sense his frame towering over you, feeling a warmth in your cheeks just at the thought of his broadness alone. He mumbled a series of ‘excuse us’ and ‘watch out’ as you moved along into the backyard, the scene nearly the same compared to Mayor Lemieux’s, of course the obvious difference was the actual yard itself.

It was only when you were nearly at the back that his hand dropped from you as he rested against a pillar, his eyes carefully scanning through the sea of people before returning to you.

“M’sorry about that,” his sincerity was evident. “Dutch’s been with ‘em all night, and I ain’t got a very good feeling about it.”

You appreciated his apology though it wasn’t really necessary. His intent was clear, and you admired him for it.

“Well, I’d say you’re my knight in shining armor, but it’s looking more like..” Your eyes danced around his attire again with a hint of a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he shook his head and put his bottle to his lips, giving you a fine sight to see. “S’your fault I’m wearin this get-up, by the way.”

He pointed at you while leaning back, shifting his weight to one foot with the other crossed in front of it. His arms crossed against his chest in a way made his arms look ridiculously big, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this man didn’t have women lining up for him around the block.

“Oh, you say it like it’s a bad thing,” you retorted, taking a sip from your glass before gesturing to yourself. “And you’re not the only one, see?”

With a graceful twirl, you spun around, allowing your skirt to flare for a flashy effect. Arthur couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you.

“Are you supposed to be somethin’, or?” There was a genuine curiosity in his tone that had you raising your brows, which caused him to stutter. “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong! It looks, you look–”

A laugh from you calmed his nerves, “I’m not, I just wanted to be festive, is all.”

He nodded and shifted his weight to the other foot, casting his gaze towards the crowd again. An awkward silence filled the space for a moment.

“What about you? What’s your get-up?” You grinned as he rolled his eyes at his word choice for costume. “And don’t say a cowboy.”

He fell quiet.

“An outlaw?”

Your laughter mingled in the air with Arthur’s, seeing a dash of red spread across his cheeks. It was exactly the kind of answer you had expected.

As it died down, his attention returned to the yard, and you couldn’t help but look at him. With his rugged looks, quick wit, and heart of gold, it was hard not to feel something for him. And for how much you were having a good time in the short duration you were with him, you couldn’t believe he ever protested coming out here.

Your heart fluttered for him. He could’ve been anywhere else right now, either at camp or drinking and getting into trouble, but yet he stayed with you, and it didn’t look like he was leaving your side anytime soon.

“Arthur–”

“We gotta move–”

The sudden urgency in his voice caught you off-guard. He stood from the pillar and a protective hand was on your back again, preparing to lead you away once more. Both of your gazes were fixed on several unfriendly-looking staff members who were combing through people with lanterns– grabbing them by the shoulder, holding the light to their face, then carelessly throwing them aside when they weren’t the face they were looking for.

Just your luck.

Quickly, Arthur guided you down the steps and to the right to what you assumed was a storage house. You kept an eye out while he found a way in, though your panic rose as they kept sweeping the yard and moving closer.

“Arthur, any day now would be gr–”

He pulled your arm into darkness and swung the door shut, immediately blocking it with an object that was too dark for you to see. The space was much smaller than you imagined and quite stuffy, the music and conversation muffled to your ears now.

Your heart hammered in your chest, surely this wasn’t because of a bruise to the ego? But then again, these rich folk seemed sensitive. You joined Arthur at the small window, just peeking around the curtain to watch the unwelcomed company grow closer, “Some staff this place has.”

“This place belongs to Angelo Bronté. And that ain’t staff.”

You scoffed, “Who?”

“Somebody we ain't need to piss off.”

You faced him, “And let me guess, you pissed him off somehow?”

As he turned to you, you became acutely aware of the lack of distance between you both. Just the slight inch forward and–

No– now was not the time to lust over him, even if your body was giving you all the telltale signs, especially the fire that burned in your core. But it didn’t help when he smirked at you for an answer, the dim illumination of half his face making him look criminally more attractive. You groaned at the overall situation– grappling with your desires and figuring how it wouldn’t be a true Van Der Linde outing if someone didn’t cause trouble.

Your fingers curled around the curtain as you watched them gather near where you’d been standing no more than ten minutes ago. Glancing back, you noticed another window that would lead just over the wall– your escape.

“Hey, there’s a–”

“Where'd you get that?”

You knitted your brows in confusion at him, letting a beat pass before seeing where his eyes had been glued to– your hand on the curtain.

The ring.

The dim light from outside still made it twinkle in the darkness of the room, catching his attention. You glanced at it before redirecting your gaze to the henchmen that had now come down the stairs and searched the opposite side of the patio behind some barrels. It was only a matter of time before they came looking where you were.

“Someone gave it to me, but listen–”

“Who gave it to you? His voice was insistent as he stared at you intently.

You stared back dumbfounded. Between wanting to have him right in this storage house and your pursuers less than twenty yards away, you couldn’t comprehend he was pestering you about this right now.

Letting out a huff, you blindly reached around for anything to give you a boost, finding your footing and hoisting upwards to reach the higher window. With one arm supporting yourself, the other made work with the pane, pushing it up little by little. It proved to be more difficult than you expected from its old age and scarce use. Your heart raced when you heard the twisting of the door knob and voices from the outside congregating around it.

Shit.

With a final push, you opened it all the way, whispering urgently, “C’mon!”

Arthur followed swiftly after you, his plunge to the ground a bit more graceful than yours, but certain he wasn’t looking anyway. Just as hit feet hit the ground, you heard the door bust open from inside, followed by several heavy footsteps and angry voices.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the right to run down the street, bumping into townsfolk along the way and hearing their unpleasant words go in one ear and out the other. But they weren’t the only ones disgruntled– so were more henchmen that were right after you. How many people did this guy have?

Your muttered profanity let Arthur know that trouble was on your tail, tightening his grip on your hand and looking for any way out.

An intersection was coming up as you ran further into Saint Denis, which meant more people, more places to hide, and more–

“Trolley!”

You pointed at it as it was approaching too quickly for your liking, hoping Arthur would see and redirect your route. But instead, he tugged for you to run faster.

“We’re not gonna–”

“Just trust me!”

Your eyes darted from the street ahead to the trolley, panic at an all time high as you were essentially running to your certain death.

You squinted as the bright lights blinded you, your legs pumping as fast as they could, and your shriek swallowed by the horn of the machine– you accepted your fate as an oversized bug smeared across its windshield.

You felt your body jerked to the side and slam against concrete. You were disoriented, your senses in chaos. This was it. The afterlife already– dark, cold, and full of..

Ragged breathing?

“Goddamn...” Arthur’s voice reached your ears.

You shot your eyes open at Arthur’s rasp, your heart painfully thumping in your chest and lungs aching with every breath. You heaved and peered around the corner to see Bronté’s men grouped in the street looking for a sign of either of you, but their efforts yielded nothing. WIth an angered look of defeat, they turned back towards the estate, and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

When you turned back, Arthur stood close to you, his gaze drawn to the men then falling to you after.

“You,” you poked at his chest, “are absolutely insane. Never make me do that again!”

“Remember,” his hand reached up for yours, “I’m an outlaw, not a liar.”

You shared a soft laugh, captivated by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and the soothing timbre of his voice. Your gaze shifted down to your conjoined hands, appreciating the gentle way he held yours despite his larger and rougher ones. His skin was warm against yours, and although you expected fireworks, it was more like a softness, surrendering to its familiarity despite never having experienced it before.

Lightly, his thumb grazed your palm and stopped at the band around your finger, gently turning your hand over so that the design was visible. He examined it closely, tracing the delicate details with his thumb.

“A woman in the market here gave it to me... Told her I couldn’t afford it, but she wanted me to keep it– insisted on it.”

He continued to look at it, taking in all the tiny details as best as he could in the dark alley. A faint smile appeared on his lips as his thumb ran over it, “Sounds like it was meant to be.”

His choice of words resonated with you, reaffirming the same feeling you’d had when you first tried it on.

A chuckle and grin from you caused him to tilt his head with a playful expression, slightly leaning closer to you, “What?”

You glanced at the ring and back to him, briefly holding your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. Your gaze flickered from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up again.

“You believe in fate, Arthur Morgan?”

His smile faded and eyes slightly widened, but your soft gaze remained steady on him. Your hands left his and traveled to his shoulders, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles. His breathing quickened, especially after the sudden touch. He stared deep into your eyes, searching for any sign that would tell him it was all in his head, but it wasn’t. You knew what you were asking.

He lowered his head for a moment, his expression softening under your touch and drawing closer to you. When he met your eyes again, a fleeting look of sadness crossed his face as his hands found themselves under your elbows.

Being involved with someone like him came with hardships for both sides– a lifestyle that one had to keep and the other suffered because of it. It wasn’t fair, eternally caught in moral dilemmas and forever denied the chance to settle down. There wasn’t the luxury to cherry-pick from life’s offerings, to have it all. This was his life, and he carried the weight of it heavily.

“I don’t believe in a lot of things,”

But you didn’t care. You had embraced a life similar to his, akin to that of the Van Der Linde gang. If you hadn’t, would you all have winded up together anyway?

You understood the unconventional life you all led, far from the standard, civilized existence that others pursued. But it worked for you, and you had each other to rely on, and that’s what truly mattered. You saw beyond the surface, beyond the cold outlaw label that clung to him, a man with flaws and virtues. Maybe he lost his temper too quickly at times or wielded a sharp tongue, but beneath it all, there was love, kindness, and a sense of honor that ran deep within him.

The world may have painted him as the Devil incarnate, but you knew him differently. He was a good man, capable of both selfless kindness and quiet introspection. In your heart, you held this belief, and nothing could change that.

Life had conspired to bring you together. And in that union, there was fate.

“But I have my exceptions.”

He pressed his lips gently against yours, his arms snaking behind and around as yours curled over his shoulders.

It was slow and sweet just like how you imagined he would be– taking his time to know your body and touch. His hands spread along your back and held you protectively, your bodies melting into one another. The breaks between were short, too focused on the fact this was happening to pay attention to anything else but each other. Your hand moved to his cheek and ran your thumb along his beard, earning a hum of pleasure from the small act and had you smiling against his lips.

When you finally broke, you rested foreheads together, pushing up his hat slightly in the process. Even in a dark alley, you could still make out his bright blue eyes and a deep shade of red gracing his skin. You couldn’t even begin to conceal your toothy grin, nor could he.

“I have my exceptions, too.”

His hand reached up and curled around yours, “Hope I’m the only one, then.”

You pecked his lips before stepping back and lacing your fingers with his, gently tugging to walk, “I’ll think about it.”

He rolled his eyes at your wink but still grinned, happily following you around wherever you dragged him to. Slipping between alleys, you merged yourselves with the lively nightlife again– the same sights you saw during the day looked even better now.

As you strolled through the town hand-in-hand, a sense of domesticity settled upon you. Tonight, you weren’t part of a highly wanted gang, you were just another pair in the streets of Saint Denis– clinging to his arm, catching snippets of entertainment through saloon doors, and getting the other’s attention when something of interest was spotted.

One of the things you enjoyed most was Arthur’s reactions to when kids jumped out to scare you both, a prank played on anyone who dared to walk the particular stretch of the street. The younger the prankster, the more dramatic Arthur’s responses became. He would place a hand over his heart and tightly cling to you with feigned disbelief, saying things like “Haven’t been scared like that in years!” or, “Never even saw ‘em comin!” before saying some words of encouragement that fueled the next scare.

Teenage boys who attempted the same stunt received a more wary reception from Arthur, recognizing their motives often stemmed from a desire to appear cool in front of friends or impress girls, and that their pranks were much more juvenile. In most cases, his glare and sheer size alone were enough to send them fleeing, but those who dared to persist were subjected to his quick tongue and left them retreating like chastened dogs with their tails between their legs. Your laughter always followed the encounter, adding to the lingering sting of Arthur’s verbal reprimand.

Eventually, your route had led you near the markets again, and you eagerly pulled Arthur along to find your favorite stand. He chuckled and followed your lead as you navigated through the crowd, your excitement palpable.

“Oh please tell me you stole him!” Came a familiar voice around the corner.

You smiled at the sight of her and approached, seeing that her table had been decently cleared, a sign of a good night for profits.

Arthur politely tipped his head towards her with a shy smile, “Afraid it’s the other way around, ma’am.”

You felt a warmth on your cheeks at his answer and gently squeezed his hand before letting it go to dig out your promises tucked expertly within your clothing. “But I do come bearing gifts!”

Her playful frown turned up into genuine surprise at your reveal of assorted jewelry and trinkets– indeed impressed with your take as it was more than she anticipated. Carefully, she examined each one before placing them with her own wares for sale, whispering a praise about the item while doing so. As she spoke, her eyes flitted about her table, her gestures revealing a hint of embarrassment.

“I apologize that I don’t have more to offer, dear,” her eyebrows furrowed apologetically, “but please, do take whatever you like.”

You glanced over the table, hesitating as you hovered a hand over an item before retracting it, shaking your head slowly. The woman and Arthur exchanged puzzled glances, the woman’s expression now tinged with concern.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight, I’ll be here–”

“It’s quite alright,” you replied sweetly, though the confusion was still apparent in her expression. “I just wanted to repay you.”

She layered her hands over her chest in gratitude, and you felt the act of pure kindness from one human to another to be worth more than any dollar bill or piece of gold.

You also knew that besides the girls, each member that was out had surely pickpocketed or gambled their way into getting a cut for themselves and camp.

Her eyes peered over to Arthur for a moment, his posture straightening when she pointed a motherly finger at him. “Don’t let this one go, you hear?”

You giggled at her demand, and another wave of red kissing his cheeks only added to your amusement as he tipped his head at her once again.

Slowly, you exchanged goodbyes as Arthur placed a hand on your lower back and subtly scooched you along– only for it to be an excuse to slip a wad of cash towards the woman without you noticing. Her hands were quick to replace the cash in his hands for something small and delicate into his, darting her eyes between your turned figure and him before shooting a wink. Without looking, Arthur knew exactly what she gave him, and placed it right in his pocket before giving you his full attention as you continued through the strip.

A warm smile graced your lips as Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist and he planted a gentle kiss on your head, feeling a tiny swarm of butterflies in your chest. His attention made you feel important with the way he had to touch you, like he needed everyone to see you on his arm, proud to have you by his side.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t suppress the heaviness of your eyelids. You tried to hide your yawns that wouldn’t stop coming after the initial one, but Arthur noticed after the second one. After exploring nearly all the sights of Saint Denis, with the exception of the mansion district, of which you had wisely avoided for the rest of the evening, he convinced you to rest at a hotel for the night. You protested at first, but another yawn and knowing look from him persuaded you to give in.

He’d slipped the clerk a little more than the average room cost, wanting you to have the best possible after such a physically taxing day. The clerk, more than willing to oblige, had graciously handed over the keys.

While the lofty bed and opulent room details were certainly appealing, you immediately took to the private balcony that gave the perfect view over the town, allowing you to continue enjoying the night from the comfort of your room. Your skirt fluttered in the breeze, mirroring the movement of the curtains as you leaned against the iron railing. A soft, ambient glow illuminated your figure, creating a picturesque scene that Arthur couldn’t help but admire– a sight he would undoubtedly sketch later.

He joined at your side, his presence reassuring as he brushed against your shoulder. You continued to gaze down at the bustling town below, the sounds of murmured conversation and laughter from the open buildings– mostly taverns and saloons– filling the night air. You rested your head against Arthur’s shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

“I know I acted like I didn’t wanna come out here tonight,” he mentioned as he looked down at you, meeting your gaze that reaffirmed his statement that pulled a smile from him. “But I’m glad I did.”

Adjusting to face him properly, he snaked his arm around you as he did the same, drawing you closer to him with a soft, affectionate look. You brushed noses as you settled in his space, your lips mere centimeters from his.

“I’m glad you did too.”

Your lips locked in a passionate embrace, and the cheers and woos from below had reached your ears, causing both of you to break into smiles at the unexpected audience. But he paid no heed to the commotion as he pulled you in for more, his hands finding your face to deepen your connection.

In a brief moment of separation, you took the opportunity to give him a suggestive smirk and nod to the room that told him everything he needed to know– quickly peppering kisses along your jaw and neck before swiftly sweeping you off your feet and right into bed.

If tonight proved one thing, it was that you needed to get out of camp more often.

Especially with Arthur.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fic #rdr2 #halloween fic

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the-fiction-witch · 10 months ago

Text

I'm sorry my love...

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sad + Sweet

Warnings surgery/ depression / amputation

I finished up in the morgue arranging my scalpels down and cleaning up, I heard footsteps on the stairs but didn't question it, suspecting some nurse chattering about, but the morgue doors unfurled dramatically to the most captivating of sights.

Stood in the doorway she stood, in her heeled leather lace-up boots, her blue plaid dress with her immense bird cage style crinoline and bustle under it giving her a swooping skirt with a little tail that follows behind her, her charming little black gloves, her velvety Y/h/C hair pinned up with her little black hat and hatpin, her black lace parasol folded up in her hand, her beautiful oceanic Y/e/C eyes looking at me.

"Humm well, it's not every day I get a visit from such a beautiful young lady," I smiled at her,

"Ummm," she glared a little coming closer to look over the work I'd done almost inspecting it,

"Humm, if you're lost looking for the ocean little Syren I'd be more than delighted to walk you back," I joked,

"Very funny," She rolled her eyes as she leant across the table and pressed her precious silky elegant lips against mine, I wasted no time to kiss her back, I moved my hand to her cheek and stroked her smooth skin until we pulled back keeping out noses close enough to stroke each other so I could look into her blue eyes and smile at her sweet face, "Hello,"

"Hello, Mrs Dawkins," I smirked,

"You really enjoy calling me that don't you?"

"Of course I do, it reminds me of you're my little bird," I cooed as I gave her a sweet kiss,

"you're too sweet sometimes Jack,"

"Well, you're easy to be sweet too when you're so sugary,"

"Are you ready to head home Y/n?"

"Of course I am," I nodded cleaning off my hands and getting my apron off handing her a cloth to clean off her face where when I stroked her I had put blood across her pale skin, "What do I have to look forward too tonight?"

"mushroom soup,"

"Oohh, let's get home then." I smiled as I took her hand and we headed up out of the hospital and onto the darkening Port Victory streets, I held her close as we walked the streets eager to get home.

I perked up as we walked when I heard the sound of horseshoes and a scream behind us. I turned in panic and saw a black coach with horses rushing down the street towards us I quickly pulled Y/n into my chest and bolted out of the way as quickly as I could turning us so she was away from the street, feeling the cabin miss my back by maybe an inch. I had my arms around her as tight as possible her own hands on my jacket as we both just stopped our hearts racing our breath sharp.

"Are you okay!"

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I'm fine too."

"Ohh... that was close," she nodded as she cracked her nervous laugh and I joined her too in that nervous breathy laugh you get after a terrifying experience,

"Too close. far too close." I told her before giving her a sweet kiss feeling our hearts racing as we kissed as we were filled with adrenaline and I admit part of me kinda got excited by it.

As we pulled away I gave her nose a little stroke with my own, "I'm just glad you're okay... I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you little bird,"

"I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you either," she smiled, "Come on let's get home before something else goes wrong,"

I nodded and held her tight as we headed home to our little house, we had dinner and cuddled up cozy by the fire, my back against the sofa arm the book in my hand, her chin resting on my sternum as we cuddled up close with a blanket over our legs, her hat gone so I could play with her sweet Y/h/C hair,

"This meeting of the two parties proved highly Sat.. sati..."

"Sound it out," she reminded as she took my hand from her hair to hold it tight,

"Sat.. is.. fact.. ory.. satisfactory" I nodded,

"Perfect Jack," She smiled kissing my hand,

"and decided the whole business at once. Each lady was previously well disposed for an agreement, and saw nothing, therefore, but good manners in the other" I read,

"what is it?"

"No, I think I- and, with regard to the gentlemen, there was such a..."

"A?"

"uhhh.. Hurty?"

She peaked the book a little "hearty, Hearty good humour, Jack"

"Ohh... Hearty good humour such an open," I read, "Thank you, Y/n," I smiled kissing her head, "trusting lib- liberality.. liberality on the Admiral's side, as could not but influence Sir Walter," I read, "who had besides been flattered into his very best and most polished behaviour by Mr Shepherd's Ass- ass- asur- asuran-" I stumbled a little trying to figure this word out, "Little bird?"

"Let me see," she smiled having another peak, "Assurances,"

"Ahh, right... assurances of his being known, by report, to the Admiral, as a model of good breeding."

"You're getting better," She smiled,

"do I get a kiss?"

"You get a big kiss,"

"A big kiss? I did that well?"

"Yes you did," she smiled giving my lips a sweet kiss and I happily kissed her back cradling her in my arms, till we pulled back,

"So? thinking of breeding?"

"Something you're implying Jack?"

"Maybe,"

"Alright,"

"Yes! Let's go my little bird," I smirked setting the book down and tugging her upstairs to bed.

I headed out to the courtyard for a break, to get some air for a moment. Thinking of my plans for the day, even if I mostly just wanted to get home and get cuddled up with Y/n. She did say she was going to make a pie today... can I just... nip home for pie? surely no one will miss me if I just pop home for a slice of pie... Suddenly I heard a scream, that chilled my body to the core.

"Y/n!" I bolted up and out onto the street where I saw her in her emerald green dress covered in blood, her body on the road, screaming.

I ran to her side and looked at her overseeing her dress torn, her leg mangled, her face scared and scratched, "Oh- oh my god- Y/n! my sweet little bird!" I cried seeing her like this, "What happened? What the hell happened!" I yelled to the people at the market,

"A dog- he came out of nowhere. He attacked her." A woman said,

"Don't worry little bird. don't you worry. I'm going to get you inside, and get you looked after, I promise" I told her taking off my tie and grabbing her hat pin to use as a ternikit for her leg doing it as tight as possible to try and prevent the bleeding so I could get a look at the damage even if I could tell from her screaming and from just what little I could see it was bad.

The nurses heard the commotion and rushed out to help quickly getting her into the theatre, I rushed around getting everything I needed whenever I could I held her hand and kissed her head,

"Step aside dawkins, let me work." Doctor Sneed came through with a smirk rolling up his sleeves,

"Don't. You. Dare." I warn him as I hold Y/n in my arms, "Don't even think about it. YOU are not touching her. You are not touching MY WIFE. No one is performing surgery or even looking at my wife! I am doing this. No one else."

"Jack are you sure you-" Hetty began,

"I'm sure!" I yelled, "No one is doing this but me."

Sneed sighed and backed off so I held her tight and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips,

"You're gonna be okay Y/n, I promise everything is gonna be okay. I admit this is going to be the worst pain of your life but I promise you I am going to do absolutely anything I can to make sure you're going to be alright," I told her, "I love you so much, Y/n, my sweet little bird. your favourite memory take your mind there,"

She nodded fighting back her tears so I kissed her again before I grabbed my scalpel.

I held my breath but got to work doing my best to investigate the state of the damage, her leg had been ravished by the dogs attacks, and her bone shattered barely anything left of it, I did try and sew up the bleeding, I tried to sew and cut trying to save her leg but I knew the longer I waited the more obvious it became that I couldn't. And the longer I waited the more blood she lost and the higher the risk of infection and I couldn't listen to her screaming. I sighed and got the saw I needed and I saw the panic in her eyes.

"I... I'm sorry my love," I told her wiping the tears from my eyes,

She shook her head tears flooding down her face, I couldn't face her as I worked as fast as I could doing my best to make it as painless as possible, As I removed her leg as low as I could and sewed her up. "It's over. it's over. It's all over little bird. it's all okay, you're gonna be okay Y/n," I told her kissing her sweet head,

I came through into the room setting down some soup on the table before I sat down beside her bed, "Hello little bird, how are you feeling?"

She looked at me with tear-stained cheeks without saying a word,

"I know you're upset Y/n, but I - I had to do what was best. I couldn't save your leg. You know I would if I could."

"I know..." She nodded, "I know you... you had to jack it just an... adjustment."

"It will be little bird," I told her holding her hand tightly, "The phantom limb will fade in time, I've got Tim working on a prosthetic for you I've told him to take his time make it look pretty for you,"

"Thank you Jack, I'm so sorry I don't mean to seem ungrateful-"

"It's alright, it's a big adjustment" I reassured her, "After everything I'm not surprised you're stressed and upset,"

"I'm most certainly not eager to see any dogs,"

"Understandable Little bird," I laughed, "Well you have nothing to worry about I'm going to be here every step of the way, I'm going to hold your hand through all of it I promise,"

"Thank you," she smiled squeezing my hand back,

I arrived home but before I could even think I dropped my bag and rushed to the stairs where Y/n sat in tears,

"Y/n! Little bird what's the matter! Are you alright!"

"I- I was trying to go to the kitchen," She cried as I cradled her in my arms,

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

"I- I didn't want to be a bother..."

"It's no trouble, Y/n you need help you're still getting used to this big change come on I'll help you up," I told her trying to help her to her foot but she only cried,

"I don't want to. Just leave me here..."

"I'm not just leaving you on the stairs, come on you got this far don't give up now let me help you back up and we'll get you down to the kitchen,"

"what's the point..."

"Y/n... you're not going to be okay again instantly, it's a big change, to need to learn to walk again, need to learn your balance again. I know it's hard, even seems impossible. But you have to keep trying my love." I told her, "Come on little bird, let's get you up and hopping like a little bunny down the stairs and I promise if you still can't walk when you get to the bottom I'll carry you the rest of the way," I told her kissing her head and helping her up her arm clutched to the bannister, I walked down to the bottom but stood ready to rush up and grab her if I nodded too, "Come on. I know you can do it."

She fought through her tears and hopped down the stairs one by one but lost her balance and tumbled down again so I quickly took her back into my arms as she burst into tears again,

"It's okay little bird, I'm still proud of you Y/n, you'll get it soon I know you will," I smiled kissing her and picking her up to carry her to the kitchen to look after her bruises,

I headed home and excitedly headed up to the bedroom where Y/n lay in bed her Y/h/C hair mattered and the covers were pulled up tightly, she hadn't been out of the bed much since leaving the hospital, luckily Prof was fairly accepting of me heading home on breaks to check up on her since being discharged, I had picked her up to take her down for dinner a few times but she was never happy about, I had yet to see her sweet lips smile since the amputation and I missed her smile so badly. She just sat up in bed all day with tear-stained cheeks, she hadn't been reading, or cooking or doing much of anything, she was a shell of herself and I felt terrible that I was the one to do this to her, it felt like... I cut out her soul when I cut off her leg.

"Ohh little bird?" I cooed,

"Hello Jack," She said her voice distant and vacant,

"How are you feeling?"

"... fine,"

"I have a gift for my lovely lady,"

"I'm not in the mood,"

"Are you sure? It's a really nice gift."

"Alright," She sighed,

"Behold, a beautiful leg for my beautiful wife," I smiled showing it off for her, "Tim got it working from a wooden manakin leg for you," I told her sitting on the bed, "Shall we give it a go then?"

"I don't know Jack..."

"Come on, For me little bird." I pleaded pulling a pouty face for her but not even that made her crack a smile,

"Alright," she nodded defeat in her voice,

"That's my girl," I smiled kissing her and pulling back the covers revealing her amputation she could barely look away tears slipping down her cheeks, "what's the matter?"

"I... I don't like looking at it."

"Why not? I think I did a pretty good job," I chuckled but she didn't laugh, "Y/n, why aren't you excited? You'll be able to walk around again? It'll take some getting used to."

"Jack." She spoke up, "I can't face looking at it, thinking about it... My body doesn't feel like me anymore."

"You really can't?"

"I can't. I feel like... I'm locked up in here. Like everything I knew is gone."

"Will you try? for me?"

"...I don't know If I can."

"I know... But you just need to embrace it, come on you know you can. You are a big strong girl. You just need to get back into the rhythm of things again" I told her as I pushed up her nightie and slipped on the prosthetic and gave it an adjustment to make sure it sat tight, "Awww look at you, you look very cute." I smiled kissing her,

"I'm a pirate."

"A pirate? Ohhh wooden leg... right? Well, you're a very beautiful Pirate." I told her giving her more kisses, "And trust me just walking around on a ship his hard enough when you do have two legs. If those dirty pirates can do that, I see no reason my little bird can't do it."

"I don't think I can... it... it feels foreign."

"It will do, you need to give it time is all, embrace it, and make it feel like you." I told her, "Come on you're a clever girl, what if... we paint the toes on it to make it match your outfits?" I suggested and she cracked a tiny smile across her lips, "What if we slip your stockings over it? hey? have it match the other in your cute little cotton and lace stockings?" I suggested stroking my hands up her wooden leg like I would her other being slow and seductive, "though I admit... you make it look too good I might not be able to keep my hands off," I smirked at her, "I'll end up stealing it while you're sleeping to cuddle with,"

"Jack!" she laughed,

"Maybe we can get some ink and give you some cool tattoos?"

"Jack! No" She smiled unable to stop laughing,

"No? I think you'd look beautiful," I smiled, "No matter what, I think you look beautiful Y/n,"

"You mean it?"

"Of course I do, You're my wife. My sweet little bird, no matter what I love you and think you are the most beautiful girl in the whole world,"

"Even with this?" she asked moving her leg a little

"Even with this." I nodded kissing her thigh,

I finished up on the ward and headed towards the prep room work ready for surgery, but I stopped short as I saw the door open in the entryway and I almost cried.

The door opened and Y/n came in her little boots on, her sweet sky blue and white dress, her little white gloves, her Y/h/C hair clean and soft with a little white hat, a wooden stick in her hand to aid her as she slowly walked with a little bit of a wobble but still graceful and poised as ever.

"Good Afternoon," she straightened herself up,

I just pulled her into my chest giving her a tight hug and a million kisses, "I love you so so much little bird,"

"I love you too Jack,"

"I'm so proud of you, really. I'm so so proud of you Y/n."

"Thank you, Jack, it's not easy but I'm getting the hang of it."

"I'm delighted to see you up and about again, you look so beautiful, it's so amazing to see you smile again,"

"Thank you," she blushed,

"I have surgery this afternoon, and then how about I walk my lovely little bird home?"

"That sounds lovely,"

"Alright, we just have to make sure you don't push yourself too hard,"

"If I get too tired would you carry me?"

"Of course I will little bird,"

"Perfect, if you're feeling up to it we could take a stroll by the water?"

"We'll see how I feel..." She nodded, "But either way we'll walk home together and we can make dinner,"

"Ohh? Pie?"

"Pie for dinner." she nodded,

"I love you so much," I squeezed her kissing her cute little head,

"I love you too," she smiled giving me a little kiss, "And its Tuesday, reading time and you're well behind given how many we've missed,"

"I suppose I am, okay. After dinner, we'll do some reading." I nodded "Come on you can come cozy up in the prep room with me." I smiled holding her hand and leading her slowly with me,

#thomas sangster #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagine #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #tbs #doctor jack dawkins #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins #jackdawkinsartfuldodger #theartfuldodgerjack #thearttfuldodger #the artful dodger #theartfuldogger

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enchantedchocolatebars · 5 months ago

Text

Kid Philip Week 2024 - Day 5 (Horses)

Horsey Cupcakes Recipe

Summary: A chapter in a cookbook is dedicated to making Horsey Cupcakes.

Story inspired by this commission art.

(DAY 5 OF KID PHILIP WEEK! IT'S HORSEY CUPCAKES TIME! 🐴 🧁 🩵 🤍 💕 ✨️ 💟)

Enjoy!

In a cyan-colored setting, hearts and sparkles share the same color.

The background displays many vanilla cupcakes dressed in light blue liners and topped with sparkly light blue frosting that is decorated with an animal cracker shaped like a horse and another shaped like a horseshoe, as well as a small blue ribbon.

The cute Disney recipe book that is present is the most striking thing.

The book is partially open and in a standing position.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Today, we'll be making...," an elderly, feminine off-screen voice spoke as sparkles were magically sprinkled onto the cover of the book, opening it fully to the half-title page.

This woman was the narrator, and she had an English accent.

As the book rapidly flipped through adorable recipes dedicated to chibi Disney characters, it made an abrupt stop on the page containing the recipe for...

"... Horsey Cupcakes. Let's get started, shall we?"

The Narrator teleports the entire scene into the recipe page, where we see a Chibi Kid Philip looking directly at the "audience" with a simple yet sweet smile.

"Hello there, Philip," the Narrator greets the brunette boy in a kind and pleasant tone as he waves a hand at her despite the woman not being visible on-screen with him.

"Are you ready to make Horsey Cupcakes?" she asked.

The little chibi nods his head.

"Good! First, we'll need to put you in the proper setting."

Philip is soon teleported into a kitchen, where the Narrator magically ties a cute horse-themed apron onto him.

He tests both the top and bottom knots for strength by gently tugging on them before throwing a thumbs up.

The cupcake ingredients that appear in the air are then neatly arranged on the wooden table that Philip is standing in front of for his use.

"So, in order to make Horsey Cupcakes," the Narrator began. "You'll have to follow five simple steps."

A cute sky blue sign with the words 'Step one' written in white overtakes the screen.

"Step one: Add all of your ingredients to a bowl and mix them thoroughly."

Philip begins to beat his butter and sugar in a bowl before adding two eggs, vanilla, and dry and wet ingredients.

Mixing them with a wooden spoon, he created a batter mixture that was both thick and pourable.

He gazes down at the mixture he's made with a pleased smile before attempting to sneak a taste with his finger.

"Ah, ah, ah," the Narrator hummed in a warning tone, prompting Philip not to dip a finger into the raw batter as an embarrassed smile, along with blush stickers and a sweat droplet, appears on his face.

"Step two: Fill your cupcake liners with batter."

With great precision and caution, Philip began slowly filling his light blue cupcake liners with batter using a plastic spoon, making sure not to spill a single drop.

His tongue remained stuck out while he concentrated.

Once the final liner is filled, Philip wipes his brow, blows out a relieved puff of air, and beams at his accomplishment.

"Step three: Have an adult place your pan into the oven."

At the third step, Philip's face displays a sad expression.

"What's the matter, Philip? Do you not have an adult?"

Looking down, he answers with a slow shake of his head.

"Ah, I see. Well..." Chibi Kid Caleb suddenly emerges out of thin air with cardinal oven mitts, causing Philip's eyes to light up as they glimmer in awe.

"An older brother will have to do."

After opening the oven, Caleb places the pan inside, closes it, and turns it on.

The cupcakes then begin to bake for 20 minutes as the boys watch with keen interest as the baked goods slowly form.

When the oven makes a 'ding' sound, the cupcakes are done.

Philip is very excited about this.

Caleb opens the oven, removes the freshly baked cupcakes from it, and transports them to a wire rack to cool completely.

"Step four: Frost and Decorate!"

At the wooden table, Caleb uses a large piping bag to pipe sparkly light blue swirls onto each cupcake.

He then decorates the frosting for each cake with an animal cracker shaped like a horse and another shaped like a horseshoe, along with a small blue ribbon.

While he does this, Philip watches his brother with bright eyes and light blue frosting on the corners of his mouth.

"Step five: Serve a Horsey Cupcake to a horse and observe if they enjoy it."

The brown chibi pony horse from "New Friends From Another Town" is now in the kitchen.

Philip places a Horsey Cupcake on a plate in front of him.

Now facing the cupcake, the horse takes a whiff of the dessert, his dotted eyes now lighting up at the sweet, vanilla-scented treat.

He proceeds to take a small bite and immediately neighs in delight at the dish he was served.

He takes another bite, this time bigger, as he chews quickly before swallowing.

He neighs for a second time.

Philip and Caleb giggle as a result of his reaction, and they give the horse a smile.

...

Philip and Caleb begin to enjoy a Horsey Cupcake of their own alongside the horse, who was given another one.

The Narrator teleports out of the recipe, and we are now brought back to the outside of the Disney recipe book, which slowly closes.

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cowboydisaster · 2 years ago

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes

part VI: horseshoe overlook ii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 13.3k

summary: you, Arthur, and Hosea find some important horses on your trek to a hunt gone-wrong. Away from camp, Arthur opens up, letting you peek through his point of view to his heart-breaking past. Dutch asks for your help.

a/n: chapter six! Arthur and reader find their heart horses, there's a lot of hurt/comfort too which we love. Oh and I spoiled a plot point to Jane Eyre, so sorry if you were planning to read it, but also it was published 176 years ago so maybe get onto that. Also the tuberculosis in Jane Eyre was just a coincidence, so don't fret. I plan on keeping Arthur tb free. Lastly, there is some good ol' fashioned 'talking about our feelings' in this chapter. We are opening up and talking about trauma, yay! BTW, series hit 50k this chapter! Anyway! Enjoy

warnings: animal abuse (seeing a horse that has been abused), mentions of former child abuse, mentions of infertility, all are described briefly, nothing graphic.

SERIES MASTERPOST

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo10300 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup

Arthur’s supposed to be on watch, and you’re supposed to be doing laundry. But he’s tired of staring at trees and you’re sick of cleaning beer and stew out of Uncle’s long johns, so here you are.

Technically, Arthur hasn’t completely abandoned his task like you have. You’re both sitting on a decent sized boulder, the one he always sits on during his guard shift, just off the trail into Horseshoe. But his eyes are not focused on the trees, instead they fixate on his journal, where he is sketching something on the ivory pages. You’re all too curious, again, about what he’s drawing, but he's positioned in a manner so the contents remain hidden from your nosey gaze. He hasn’t missed the way you subtly lean every once in a while, peering down your nose to try and see the pages. Each time he notices, a small smile tugs on his lip, and he pulls the journal a little tighter towards himself. Arthur’s carbine rests between you two on the rock, next to a little bag of candies that he had picked up when you were in town a few days ago. Currently, your nose is in a book, but you haven’t been reading it for a few moments, instead peeking over the pages at Arthur. It’s nice to get away from camp for a bit. The past few days you’ve spent doing house chores for Grimshaw. She was less than happy when you “Went to the saloon all day with the men” as she put it, those couple days ago. She made sure that you made up for the lost time, and you were stuck peeling potatoes for so long that your hands went numb.

It’s a beautiful day, the sun shines brightly, and a warm breeze passes through the camp. Birds chirp, singing their tunes as they build nests in the trees above your head. A few rabbits have passed by, even a fox, filling up on food before the storm hits, another reason you’re avoiding your chores. Charles had warned everyone that by the look of the clouds, a big storm was coming, probably tomorrow. You’ll be damned if you spent the last nice day staring at Pearson’s apron or a laundry bin.

You watch as Arthur moves his eyes from the journal to the bag of sweets, and he reaches into it, pulling out a yellow candy. With an almost unnoticeable frown, he drops it back into the paper bag, and pulls out a red one. He seems satisfied enough with this choice, and he brings the little treat to his lips. It’s been so long since you’ve had the pleasure of candy, and you’ve gone and eaten nearly half the bag. You haven’t had money for pleasantries in a long while, not since your momma died anyway.

“You don’t like the lemon ones?” You ask, reaching into the bag and pulling out the one he had dropped back inside. You pop it into your mouth, eyes slipping shut in bliss from the sweet, tart flavor of the candy. Arthur looks up at you for a quick moment, scanning over your face with a chuckle before trailing back down to his journal.

“Nah, I like 'em well enough, but I noticed they’re your favorite. Didn’t wanna take all the good ones from ya.”

You smile, grabbing another yellow candy from the bag just as you feel the remnants of the last one finish dissolving. You missed hard candies. They weren’t exactly high on your list of priorities before joining the gang. You put your book down, a piece Marybeth had let you borrow. You’ve read it a few times, and you already know exactly what the pages entail. However, you don’t know what the pages of Arthur’s journal look like.

“Whatcha drawin’?” You ask, criss crossing your legs on the boulder. Arthur huffs a laugh, having expected this question.

“Nothin’ much, just somethin’ little.” Arthur whispers. You’re confused as he leans down towards the grass, plucking a dooryard violet from a little patch of the wildflowers. So many of Arthur’s actions throw you for a loop. He’s so… dynamic, constantly showing you new sides to him that you would never expect.

He unsheathes his hunting knife, quickly snipping the stem of the flower off. Now what really throws you off is when Arthur leans over, concentrated, and tucks the flower behind your ear. He adjusts your hair accordingly.

“There,” He whispers, settling back into his former position to admire you. “Purple looks good on you, well except when it's your cheek that's purple but-” Arthur jokes, nodding to your bruised cheek, and you laugh, shoving him a bit.

“I was just about to say that you’re goin’ soft, but now you’re makin’ fun of me. I guess things are back to normal.”

Arthur’s face turns to mock hurt, as he squints at you.

“I ain’t goin’ soft.” He chides.

You placate him, putting your hands up.

“Alright, whatever you say, Mister.”

With a smile, you pick your book back up. Arthur reaches into the bag of candy, pulling out a yellow one. Words need not be said as he mumbles to get your attention, and when you look up, he tosses the little yellow candy towards you. You catch it, tossing it into your mouth and thanking him. It’s quiet as both of you pick your books back up. It’s nice, with you both silently enjoying each other's company. You’re lost in the world of Jane Eyre, and Arthur lost in his journal. Every so often Arthur will peek up from his book, glancing at you for a moment before returning to his sketching.

You reach the bit of the novel where Helen is lying on her deathbed, finally succumbing to tuberculosis. This particular scene has been read and reread by you many times, but it still manages to choke you up. Helen is so brave in the face of death, so sure of the paradise that will await her. And poor Jane, another loss, another grief. You’re not sure what happens after death, but if there is an afterlife, you’re not so sure you’ll be on the pleasant side of it. Tears begin to prick the sides of your eyes as Helen speaks her last line to Jane, begging her not to grieve, beckoning her to find joy. Arthur eyes you curiously from the side of his eyes, wondering what about that little book has you so in your head. With a sigh, you finish the chapter and sniffle, placing the book down to take a breath. Arthur’s charcoal stills on the paper as he hesitates, a question on his lips.

“What's goin’ on in that head a yours? Tough read?” Arthur asks, gesturing to the little ruby colored book in your hands. You meet his gaze with a raised eyebrow, placing the book down on it’s opened pages to keep your spot.

“How about a compromise? I’ll tell ya…if you show me what you’re drawin.”

Arthur’s eyes turn dark with mock threat as he whispers, tone gravelly.

“Never.” He chuckles, and you sigh dramatically.

You both slip into a comfortable silence again, and you find yourself bored. You don’t feel like reading any more, and you’ve picked through most of the yellow candies, so in a futile attempt to distract yourself you toy with your spurs, flicking the rowel and watching as it spins. Arthur notices this, and he huffs. He’s noticed in the past few weeks that you’re always keeping your hands busy, always toying with something or other. He thinks back to when you were tracing constellations on his palm in the bath, and his head hangs low with some shame, and a pain.

“I uh- I been meanin’ to apologize…” Arthur mumbles, eyes fixated on his book.

Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, what on earth does he have to apologize for?

“The other day in Valentine, in the bath house. I overstepped- or I misread the situation n’ Im sorry. Never meant to make you uncomfortable, Star.” Arthur all but whispers, a heavy feeling settling in his gut because he doesn’t want to mess this up, doesn’t want to push you away, and he is.

Immediately your heart sinks, you’ve been meaning to have this conversation, practicing your words when you lie awake at night, unable to sleep. But all the things you wanted to say slip from your mind.

“That wasn't… you didn't-" You mumble, at a loss for words. There's so much you could tell him right now, so much you could explain. But you don't. No, instead you shove it down, pulling that unbothered facade over your face that has been protecting you from heartache for years.

"We don't gotta talk about it, Arthur." You whisper, flicking the rowel of your spurs and avoiding his eye contact.

You can still see it though, as Arthur leans back, cocking his head with a downcast face. He wants to talk about it, but you can't.

With a sigh, you lay back against the rock, hands behind your head to look up at the clouds. As soon as your back hits the rock, Arthur sighs, humorously irritated.

"Dammit woman will you just- " Arthur chuckles, pulling you back up to a sitting position by grabbing your forearm.

"Just hold still for a minute, I'm tryin' to do somethin…" Arthur smiles because you're always moving, you can't sit still, and a moving model proves to be a difficult one.

You go back to your sitting position, and Arthur leans over towards you, adjusting the violet in your hair. Your eyebrows are pulled together in confusion for a moment until you spot the little journal sitting in his lap, closed over his charcoal. Your eyes go wide, and your lips crack into a shocked smile.

Arthur leans back, picking the journal back up and opening it. For a few seconds his eyes run over the soft features of your face, and then he looks down to his paper.

"You're- You're drawin' me ?" You ask, perplexed, honored.

When Arthur glances up, seeing the look on your face, he gets nervous. He probably should have asked your permission first. He didn't mean anything strange by the drawing, and he doesn't want you to think that.

Arthur scratches the back of his neck, searching for words to explain, but falling short.

"Uh- yeah, I am. But I don't mean anything odd by it. I just like to draw things that I like or that I find- Well, I don't know, usually I draw things that I think are pretty. Like nature n' plants and uh…" Arthur rambles, terrified you're gonna think he's some type of pervert. A smile blossoms across your face, a full, genuine one. He's dug himself in with his words he realizes when you lean in toward him, voice quiet.

"...and me?" You ask, finishing his sentence. Arthur smiles crookedly, eyes on the paper as he responds.

"Yeah, like you."

You smile, content. Arthur continues sketching. The quiet scratching of charcoal on paper is the only reminder that he's still beside you as you slip your eyes shut, soaking up the last of the sun. You listen to his sketching, to his breathing, and the little sighs and chuckles he lets out when you move too much. He knows you can't sit still, it's just one of those little things about you.

After a while, the sketching stops, and you peek one eye open, glancing down at Arthurs hands. He sets the charcoal down, closes the book and then dusts his hands off of his jeans.

"You gonna let me see it?" You ask, turning towards him, adjusting the flower in your hair.

"I never really shown anyone this… My new one or my old." Arthur says, quietly.

"You don't gotta, it's okay." You reassure, sincerely. He's very closed off about the journal, and you respect that. Having one yourself, you understand the desire to keep it hidden away. Arthur thinks for a moment, looking down to the leather bound journal in his hands.

"Here," he whispers, opening it to the correct page and handing it towards you. You hesitate, not wanting to push him, but he nods for you to go on.

"It's just for fun, I'm not real good or anything." Arthur adds, always having a lesser opinion of his works.

You very gently take the pages from his hands, pulling the book towards you. You cover your gaping mouth in shock. Anytime Arthur has previously mentioned his drawings he downplayed them greatly. You should have expected this, as he always down plays his talents. But you had expected messy scribblings, doodles.

What Arthhr has created is beautiful. He intricately copied your face onto the paper, perfectly portraying you in his own style. His shading is perfect, contouring your face and the bright smile plastered onto it. He's drawn the violet, sticking out from behind your ear.

"Arthur…" You gasp, taken aback by his artistry. Next to the journal is a little note, accompanied by your name, spelled out in all caps, and a little drawing of the north star.

She joined me for my guard shift again. We was bored so I started drawing while she read something or other. She looked real pretty with that flower in her hair, oh and she likes YELLOW CANDIES.

Arthur blushes a bit, embarrassed that you've read his thoughts, but he knows you won't judge him for it. Make fun of him, however? Knowing you, you will. He chuckles, glancing up to your face.

A throat clears behind you both, and you jump, turning to see Hosea standing there. He curiously eyes Arthur's journal in your hands, eyes flickering between the two of you, knowing that you're the first person he's ever shown those pages to.

"How's your watch goin'?" Hosea asks, knowingly quirking a brow.

"Just fine, now whatchu need?" Arthur asks, gently taking the journal back and binding it up. Hosea is unshaken by Arthur's attitude, having dealt with it for nearly twenty years.

"Your horse. I'm heading to the stables to buy a new ride, but I need a way to get there." Hosea answers.

"Thought that was your horse there? Why don't you ride him down to the stables?" Arthur asks, gesturing up the slope towards the hitching posts to where a massive black shire horse resides. You don't recall seeing the beastly animal before, but then again you've been stuck with Miss Grimshaw.

"Yes, well I'm giftin' that bastard to you. He's a nasty son of a bitch, and I'm too old to be thrown. I nearly died a handful of times just getting him back here. I stole him from a fella on the road a few days back, now Karmas got me." Hosea says, angrily gesturing towards the stallion who is pinning his ears and pawing the ground impatiently.

"He can't be all bad. You know anything about him?" You say, eyebrows pulled together as you stand up, walking up the slopes to the posts. The two boys follow you.

"Well before I robbed him of his horse and his hunting map, me and this fella got to drinkin'. He was boasting about this damn thing, and said it was immortal. Apparently he was ridden by a bounty hunter before this, and got hit with more bullet shrapnel than you'd believe. Somehow he managed to stay alive. Fella was drunker than a skunk though, so I reckon you should take it with a grain of salt."

You stand back with Hosea as Arthur steps towards the uneasy animal. The horse stomps, ears pinned, and Arthur coos to him, hands up in surrender to the animal.

"That boys' always had a way with animals." Hosea remarks, watching as Arthur calms the shire enough to pet it. His hands meet the dark horse's neck as he shushes. After a few moments, the horse begins to calm. His tail stops swishing, his ears prick to the sides, listening to Arthur and his lip becomes loose.

"Real good, boy. Now don't go kickin me, I'm just gonna take a look, I ain't gonna hurt ya." Arthur coos, running his hand from the horse's front shoulder down to its hock and pastern. He whistles lightly, pulling his hand back up.

"Feller weren't lyin'. Legs are covered in old scars. It's a miracle he didn't die from infection or just get put down." Arthur says, patting the horse's croup before backing up, eyeing the horse from a few steps back.

"He got a name?" Arthur asks, and Hosea shakes his head.

"No, never given one." Hosea adds.

"Reckon I'll start callin you Balius, you're a strong one." Arthur says, moving back towards the horse and picking up his hoof, checking over the state of it.

"Balius…?" You ask, not sure why Arthur would have picked that name. It's beautiful, but foreign to you.

"Ah, Balius. An immortal horse, a gift from Poseidon." Hosea smiles, looking at Arthur and the horse.

"Arthur, he's a smart one. Too humble to show it often, I'm afraid." Hosea whispers to you.

You think back to Boadicea. Arthur must take some interest in history and mythology. You curiously watch him, seeing Arthur in a different light.

"Okay, I can take him off your hands. Go ahead and ride my Walker to the stables. Just board him there for now, I'll see how this big guy does." Arthur says, pulling an oatcake from his satchel and feeding it to a now calm Balius.

You glance to the unhitched horses, seeing your buckskin grazing with the other gang member's horses. He's a small thing, not much muscle on him and Colter certainly didn't help that fact. He's a good horse, but not what you need. You need something strong and quick, something younger.

"I'll join you, Hosea. I've been meaning to get a new ride for a while."

"I might as well go too, get him checked out by a stable hand. He's gonna need a different saddle. Boadicea's is still down in Blackwater and the saddle on the walker is a piece a' shit." Arthur pipes in. Hosea places a hand on each of your backs as he smiles, leading you towards the unhitched horses.

"I'm not sticking around, I'm afraid. Once I get this horse I'll be heading back up to ambarino for a hunt. I hear that there's a beast of a bear up there."

Arthur stops, hands on his belt as he raises an eyebrow.

"You want help with it? Y'aint so young no more, Hosea." Arthur asks, not wanting to overstep, but worried about Hosea's cough and age. Taking on a bear is hard for someone your age, let alone Hosea's. Hosea hesitates.

"Star's daddy was a gunsmith. Sure she knows her way around what we need and I can track better than you, let us go, as long as the lady wants to." Arthur adds, looking over to you quickly.

"Alright, suppose some company would do me some good up in the mountains." Hosea nods, glancing behind him at the horses.

"I reckon me and Arthur get these horses saddled up. I'll have Charles take the rest of your shift. Dear Star, why don't you go pack a bag, we may be away a few nights. Oh and check in with Dutch, he was asking for you. Tell him we're heading out for a day or two." Hosea orders around, and you nod, anxiety pooling in your gut.

"Dutch was askin for you?" Arthur asks, shooting a look at you and then Hosea. You nod, biting your lip.

"Yeah, said he wants to get to know me on a more personal level… Whatever that means." You mumble, and Arthur's face is drawn up in distaste. Without another word, you head towards your tent.

You wave at Jack on the way, noticing that Abigail and John are fighting again. You feel bad for the boy, caught up in this life. You ignore the hungry cries of the O'driscoll, tied to a tree on the other side of camp. Dutch is a fool for bringing him here. With a sigh, you part the canvas to your tent, drawing the flaps closed behind you. A little wooden box rests on your bedside table, a gift from Tilly after you'd done her a favor. You pick up the wooden box, hand resting in the lid, and yet you hesitate to open it. You know it's not gonna be good, maybe enough change for some canned goods, but not a horse, which you need.

Frustrated, you slam the box down harder than necessary. Your hand grabs an old saddle bag from under your cot, and you move to your wardrobe.

You don’t have a tent kit, but you do have a bedroll, so you grab it and stuff it into the bag alongside a few pairs of jeans and some underthings. Damningly, you forget to grab your coat, leaving it stuffed in the bottom of your wardrobe.

Once your bag is packed you can no longer ignore the wooden box that is haunting you. You sit down on your bed, picking it up and holding it in your lap. You pull the lid off, looking down to a measly five dollar bill. It's not chump change, but it won't help you with a horse. It's the last of the money you have from stealing in Tumbleweed. You hope that with the gang you'll never have to live like that again. You were barely making it, never knowing where you were gonna get a meal or sleep. Anytime you needed to purchase something you had to steal. And now here you are, thinking about how in the hell you're going to steal a horse.

You pluck the bill from the box, fold it over and stick it into your satchel.

"Can I come in?" A voice says from outside your tent. It's Arthur, and instinctually you smile.

"Sure c'mon."

Arthur steps through the flap, coming over to your bed. You scooch over and he sits down beside you on your cot.

"What's the matter?" Arthur asks, taking his hat off and placing it on the cot. You sigh, closing the box and putting it back on your table.

"I still feel like I'm just runnin." You whisper, noting the double meaning of your words.

"From what?" Arthur asks, no judgment in his eyes.

"Everything," You huff, "Myself mostly. My past, my feelings. Just robbing and killing and lying to survive. I'm stuck back in Tumbleweed, Arthur. I have no money, I have nothin' to my name. I need a damn horse before this one up and dies on me but I can't even afford the cheapest one. I'm gonna have to steal a damn horse." You sigh, running your hands through your hair, plucking out the violet and twirling it between your fingers. Arthur rests his hand on your knee, and you look up to his ocean eyes.

"Star, you got the whole gang now, okay? You don't gotta watch your back now, cause we all got it." You nod, knowing he's right and feeling better for it.

"I'll help ya get a horse, c'mon." Arthur says, patting your knee for good measure before standing up and placing his hat back on.

"I'm not lettin you buy me a horse." You bite.

"Marybeth caught word of a train job. You come rob with us, n' get your cut, you can pay me back." Arthur says. You know he would never actually ask you to pay him back, he's only offering this to make you feel better.

Arthur extends his hand out to you, and once you take it, he pulls you up to your feet. He grabs your packed bag from the cot, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Alright, go check in with Dutch, I'll get your horse loaded."

Arthur holds the tent flap open for you, and once you exit he files out behind you. You go your separate ways then. Dutch's large tent seems to rise over the others, intimidating you. But you strengthen your resolve, walking towards it with purpose.

Just as you reach to pull the canvas aside, Molly pushes through the flap, knocking into you and pushing you to the side.

"I'm not blind, Dutch! I know what you're doing! You won't even TOUCH me anymore because you’re thinkin about her!" Molly yells, and her voice pierces the ears of everyone in camp. She points her finger at him, seething with rage before grunting loudly.

"You're delusional. Again." Dutch says, rolling his eyes, frustrated.

Molly flips him the bird before stomping off. Dutch only watches her go with distaste.

"Sorry, I didn't intend to interru-"

"Nonsense. I'm sorry. Miss O'shea has been… difficult as of late." Dutch says, clicking his tongue against the room of his mouth. He comes beside you, placing his hand on your shoulder and leading you into his tent.

"Would I be correct in assuming that you've been avoiding me?" Dutch asks, groaning as he rests down into his chair. Everything about the man is dominating. His stature, his stance, his words. He demands respect, and those who don't give it to him receive a bullet. Naturally, with you being you, you test his boundaries. Arthur trusts Dutch, but he gives you an odd feeling.

"Why would I avoid you?" You chuckle, watching as some of the charisma bleeds from his eyes. He gets off on being frightening, and you've just insulted his resolve.

"Hmm." Dutch squints at you, unsure if you're just ignorant or if you're intentionally pushing his buttons. He grabs a cigar from the pack on his desk, placing it between his lips.

"I only came by to tell you that Hosea, Arthur and I will be off on a job hunting for a few days. They asked me to let you know."

Dutch nods, holding a match to the candle on his table until it lights before bringing the lit match to his cigar. He makes you wait, lighting the cigar, slowly inhaling and then releasing the breath of air.

"Okay… I hope you haven't forgotten about our little chat. I've got plans for you. As soon as you return, come see me. We've got a lot to talk about."

You dip your head in understanding, and turn to exit.

"And miss?" Dutch calls after you, and you stop, turning on your heels.

"Hmm?"

"Do be careful on that hunt. Be a real shame if somethin' scratched up that pretty little face." Dutch says, and your stomach rolls as you exit.

You try to quell your anger, try to be the bigger person. Dutch is the one person who you cannot piss off. Your tongue gets you in trouble often but you won't let it leave you without a home. You move through camp, Dutch's remark playing through your head. The boys are waiting for you at the hitching posts, and they see your rage from a mile away.

"Miss Star, what is it?" Hosea asks, checking his girth to make sure it's tight before climbing onto Arthur's horse.

"It's that prick." You snap, finger directed at Dutch's tent.

"What's the fool gone and done now?" Hosea asks, grabbing the reins and adjusting in the saddle.

"Dutch? He botherin you?" Arthur asks, glancing between you and Hosea.

"Oh I can handle it just fine. Miss O'shea don't seem to be handlin' it so well though. Bastard makes her cry and then two seconds later starts tryin' to flirt with me." You growl, climbing into your saddle. You follow Hosea, cantering out of the Overlook.

"He tried to flirt with you?" Arthur growls.

"This isn't new for Dutch. He finds something shiny, new, and he wants it. Happened with him and Marybeth too, but I shut that down quick." Hosea yells back.

"He knows better. I'll have a word with him when we get back." Arthur hisses, disappointed.

"No. I've got it." You respond.

"Don't mind him, hard as it may be. Lately he's been nothing but greedy when it comes to women. He's downright disrespectful, demeaning… Annabelle would be ashamed." Hosea shakes his head.

"Annabelle?" You ask, never having heard the name before. You turn in your saddle to look at Arthur.

"She was Dutch's fiancé. Got killed by Colm O'driscoll." Arthur mutters, an old pain resurfacing.

"She was a sweet girl. She was good for him, too, and kept him in line. Along with young Arthur over here. He and John were a pair of fools when they were kids. She was always badgerin' them." Hosea chuckles at the memory.

"Nah, that was mostly Bessie. John used to steal my damn cigarettes all the time. Course that was my fault. God knows little Johnny Marston couldn't do no wrong." Arthur chastises.

"Oh be quiet, Arthur. We all knew you were sneakin them to him. Along with the booze."

Your eyebrows are pulled together in confusion as the two bicker, and you laugh.

"Yeah well gettin' the kid drunk was the only way to shut him up." Arthur explains.

"Wait-" You laugh, "You all knew each other when you were kids?" You ask, trying to piece together the timeline, picturing them all younger.

"We brought Arthur in when he was only a boy, about fifteen if my memory hasn't lost me. Our first stray, our unruly son. For a long while it was just me, Dutch and Arthur. But then I found Bessie and Dutch, his Annabelle, and then eventually we took in John." Hosea explains, trotting over the railroad tracks into the auction yard.

You can't help but chuckle, the thought of their younger years is a sweet idea. They really are a family, you can see that now

"How did you end up with them? How did you end up doin' this?" You ask Arthur and then Hosea, spurring your horse.

"I was just a kid, livin' on the streets for a long while, stealin' to get by. The city weren't kind to me. After a few years I decided to get away, take my chances out in the woods. I needed a horse to get away from the city." Arthur explains as you slow your horses, riding towards the livery. Hosea chuckles, and you can't help but smile, wondering where this might be going.

"So one day I'm sittin' on the sidewalk beggin' for spare change. See these two horses hitched outside the gunsmith, real fine horses. Saw a white one, knew it'd be quick and strong, just what I needed."

You chuckle, knowing exactly where this is going.

"Get up close to it, no one's lookin' so I throw myself up into the saddle."

Hosea is smiling brilliantly at the memory, as if he's back in the same setting.

"That horse threw me faster than you could blink an eye. I'm layin' there on the street like a fool, feelin' sorry for myself when suddenly these angry lookin' outlaws peek over me, lookin' down at me in the mud."

"And that was where we found him." Hosea laughs.

You make a note to ask why Arthur was alone at such a young age. Your heart breaks at the idea of him, just a kid, begging for money in the streets. You've heard amongst the laughter of the gang that The Count won't take anyone but Dutch, and Arthur appears to have been the first to test that theory. You trot past the butcher's, making your way towards the stables. Once again, you pass the peculiar one armed man posing as a veteran. You nod to him lightly as you pass, and he smiles in return.

"We can fill you in on old stories during our trek up the hills. There's a lot of goodones, especially about Arthur here." Hosea chimes, dismounting from Arthur's walker in front of the livery.

"Great." Arthur says, sarcastically elongating the word.

You slide down from the buckskin, forgoing your eyebrows as you hear commotion on the other side of the closed stable doors. A horse shrieks, whinnying with fear as thumps sound out against the door.

"Just grab her halter!" A man yells, and the stable doors shake from an apparently hard kick to them.

"I can't! She won't settle, goddamnit she's goin' through!" Another man screams, and suddenly the door cracks and is pushed open.

A beautiful Palomino mare pushes through the door, terrified and angry. You jump back out of the way with a gasp, almost getting trampled by her.

"Star, get back!" Arthur yells as the horse rears up, crying out with an ear piercing whinny.

"I got her!" One of the stable boys yells, swinging a lariat over his head. He releases a coil as the rope flies through the air, landing around the mare's neck.

The rope only seems to terrify her more, and she drags the poor stable hand who's heels drag in the dirt, trying to pull her in by force.

You know that there's no way he could possibly force this horse to do anything. She's tall, lean and strong. Her piercing blue eyes are a symbol of her ancestors' spirit. She's a force to be reckoned with, an open flame, you can tell from just a glance.

"Stop! Stop- you're scarin' her!" You call to the boy with the rope, handing your buckskin's reins to Hosea. You walk towards the spooked mare as she rears, hands placed up to placate her.

"Be careful, miss, please. She's dangerous. Wasn't taken care of properly by her last owner n' now she don't trust men. Maybe she'll take to you." The man calls.

You look to her sides, to the scarred over wounds on either side of her stomach where spurs have dug in harshly, and to the sores on her mouth from where a torturous bit has been yanked far too often.

"Oh you poor girl." You coo, taking a step towards her.

Arthur shifts behind you, wanting to just grab you and pull you backwards. But he knows by now not to question you. You can handle your own. Still, it doesn't help his anxiety as he glances at Hosea.

The horse is locked onto you. She has stopped rearing, but she snorts and huffs, prancing and snorting nervously.

"Drop the rope." You order the boy, but he hesitates, stuttering.

"I- I can't, I shouldn't. She'll run off again, and my boss-"

"The lady wasn't askin', now drop the damn rope." Arthur orders from behind you, and your lips crack into a small smile, grateful that he has your back, that he trusts your sometimes insane decisions.

The kid obliges, immediately dropping it to the ground. Your fingers are crossed, and much to your relief, the mare stays put.

Her crystal blue eyes are locked onto you, separated only by the thick, long white forelock that covers part of her face. Her golden coat is broken up by a thick white blaze, and she has four tall white stockings.

"Easy there girl, I'm not gonna hurt ya." You whisper, inching towards her. She stomps her right hoof, ears pinned back. You stand still, waiting for them to pop back up before you continue.

She has a presence about her, something deeply human about those eyes. There's a sense of understanding in them, a clarity that you find only in the rarest of beasts.

"She's got that affinity for animals too, huh?" Hosea whispers to Arthur, looking between you and him.

Hosea notices that Arthur doesn't turn his head, doesn't acknowledge the older man because his eyes are locked onto your back, watching as you approach the mare. Arthur is looking after you with a small smile, a glint in his eyes that Hosea hasn't seen in so long. He doesn't remember the last time he's seen Arthur with so much… life in his eyes.

"She's incredible ain't she?" Arthur whispers back, eyes glued onto you as he speaks. Hosea brings his hand up to Arthur's shoulder, offering it a light squeeze.

"She sure is, son."

Oblivious to their conversation, you shush to the horse, calming her down some. No one moves save for you, not wanting to interrupt this moment, lest the mare run off again.

"That's a good girl, see I'm friendly I swear it." You whisper, smiling as the horse stands steady on her feet, ears coming forward curiously towards you. Holding your breath, your fingertips reach out, inches away from her pale nose. She snorts, sniffing at you, gauging your intentions.

At the same time, you move towards each other, and your fingers brush against her soft coat. At first the mare hesitates, but after a second she leans into your touch. You laugh, petting under her forelock. When you turn around to show Arthur what you've done, you find him sweetly looking over you, eyes bright, proud.

You gently reach and grab the rope from her neck, using it to lead her back towards the stables.

"I ain't never seen nothing like it miss! She just- she just calmed right down for ya!" The stableboy says excitedly as you lead the mare back inside, followed by Hosea and Arthur with the other horses.

Hosea and Arthut deal with their horses, selling, buying and stabling while you chat with the stable hand.

"Can I help you with anything? Seein as you helped me out." The young worker asks you as the older one helps Hosea pick out a ride.

You hold the mare's rope in your hand, scanning down over the other stalls. There's a dappled standardbred, a silver turkoman, a roan nokota, a morgan… nothing that catches your eye.

You turn back towards the mare at your side, then to the stable boy.

"I want her." You say, no chance of compromise in your voice. The stablehand looks at you oddly.

"You- you want her? Miss I don't think that's such a good idea, she ain't right in the head!" He explains, but you've found your resolve, and you are going home with this mare, one way or another.

"You turnin' down a customer?" You bite, raising an eyebrow at the boy and purposely drawing his attention to his boss. Surely the owner won't appreciate his hand turning away a paying customer.

"No! No of course not, ma'am!"

"That's what I thought. She have papers?" You ask him, and he turns around with a sigh.

“Yeah she got papers.”

You nod, satisfied with the response.

“She’ll be nine hundred n’ fifty, miss.” The boy says, handing you your papers and your gut sinks. $950? Quickly coming up with an idea, you smooth your face over with a small smile.

“I'll take her for fifty.”

The boy laughs, snorting at your attempt at a bargain.

“We already lost enough money on this horse. You can have her for nine hundred.”

You squint, eyeing the man up and down.

“Seventy five.” You bite.

“I'm sorry lady, that just ain’t happenin’. This is one of the nicest horses we’ve had, and I can’t just hand her to you for nothin.” He says, chuckling as if you’re crazy.

“You sure about that? This horse nearly killed you.” You lean back on your heels, eyebrows raised, “You said she don’t like men, right? If I walk away now are you even gonna be able to lead her to a stall?”

The boy glances between the horse and you, and the mare pins her ears at him, biting out as if she wants to rip him apart. He sighs loudly, running a hand over his face before looking back to you.

“Four hundred.” He offers you, and you squint, releasing a little of the mare’s lead so her bites and kicks towards the man land a little closer to his face.

“Two hundred.” You bite, and the man rolls his eyes.

“Listen, lady, my pa will kill me-” He starts but you interrupt him. Hosea and Arthur have already checked out and boarded their horses, and they watch you with amused chuckles.

“You’re startin’ to piss me off mister! Would you rather your pa kill you, or this horse? Cause the more you continue to irritate me, the looser this rope gets, and, the lower my offers get. Now, let's try that again. I’ll take her for one hundred.” You bite, leaving go of some more rope and the man has to back up to avoid the mare’s pinned ears and kicks.

“Jesus! Fine, a hundred works. Just, get her away from me.” The boy yells, and you pull her rope back in towards you, calming her down with a very satisfied smirk on your lips.

Arthur pays the man the hundred dollars, and you switch saddles from your buckskin before stabling the horse. Arthur picks out some carrots for everyone’s new horse’s and before long the three of you are walking out satisfied, with three new rides. You stop outside of the stables as everyone mounts up. Hosea had purchased the turkoman, and now he swings a leg over it with a very satisfied grin.

“So we all got new rides, eh?” Hosea chuckles, waiting for you and Arthur to mount up.

“It seems so.” Arthur chuckles, watching as you comfort your palomino before getting up into the saddle. She feels nice to ride, got solid feet, and she doesn’t buck or fret. You pat her neck once you’re in the saddle, and then signal to the boys that you’re ready to head out.

“This one should do me good. Got nice bloodlines, a good age.” Hosea says, waiting for Arthur to mount up.

“What about her? You pick out a name yet?” Arthur asks, pointing lightly towards your horse for a moment. You frown slightly.

“No. I ain't much good with pickin’ names out truthfully, maybe somethin’ will come to me eventually.” You mumble

“Awe, well ya gotta pick somethin’ out. Horse as fine as that needs a proper name… She’s a spitfire for sure. You gotta find a name that fits her spirit too.” Arthur explains, placing a foot into the saddle and swinging a leg over. You hum, thinking.

“Well what would you name her, Arthur?” Hosea asks, turning his horse around to butt in a little.

“Oh, I don’t know, I was just thinkin-”

“C’mon, what would you pick? Tell me.”You interrupt his ramblings and Arthur looks down at his saddle horn.

“I guess I’d call her Athena. War, wisdom, beauty, sure seems to fit her description.” Arthur says, looking the mare over. Hosea smiles a bit, as do you because you can’t believe he’s hidden this apparent interest in mythology from you. First Balius, now Athena? He’s so complex, you smile.

“Athena” You test out the name, liking the way it rolls off your tongue, and even the mare’s ears prick up when you say it.

“Athena it is…” You whisper, smiling as you lean to pet the mare's neck. Arthur chuckles, watching the two of you.

“We best be on our way then, by the time we get up there it’ll be good huntin’ hours.” Hosea calls out, trotting up the road. You and Arthur follow after him, making a triangle formation up the main road. You all pass the building that's half built, and you notice they’ve made some more progress, as wooden beams stick up, framing the roof. There's a ‘coming soon!’ sign plastered out front.

“Say what are they building there, anyway?” You ask, watching as the workers carry cut beams and tools.

“A blacksmith I hear, some real peculiar feller. They say he's real… imaginative. Sounds to me like he’d be better off in a city, but he liked the ‘quaintness’ of Valentine.” Hosea pipes up from ahead.

“He’s… imaginative?” You ask, unsure of the creative limits to Blacksmithing of all things.

“They say he makes decorations, jewelry, all kinds of peculiar trinkets and the like. Alongside regular stuff, of course. He makes tools, and the odd bits are more of a side gig.” Hosea explains, trotting around the bend past the sheriff’s office.

“Strange…” You mumble, glancing back at the building one last time before it disappears behind the sheriff's office.

“Where exactly we headin’?” Arthur asks, spurring Balius into a canter now that you’re all out of town.

“A little stead, called O'Creagh’s run. Beautiful hunting up there, but it’s a bit far.”

“Let’s ride, then.” Arthur responds, and you all push your horses into a gallop. You use vocal cues, not wanting to touch Athena’s sides with your spurs. She responds well, and within no time you’re all galloping back up north.

— — — —

A few long hours later you finally arrive. O’Creagh’s run is a beautiful little place, with wildflowers, grassy hills and a glass-clear pond with massive fish swimming through it. As you ride past, you see a man in a boat, fishing over the waters.

“Just a bit further, we can leave the horses up ahead off the road.” Hosea says, veering from the road and trotting up a small hill. Big boulders stick out of the ground in places, and you maneuver Athena around them.

Hosea leads you to a little opening, and he slides down from his horse.

“Why don’t you grab that gun? And whatever bullets you see fit. We’ll let dear Arthur here shoot the bastard.” Hosea chuckles, pulling out a map and looking it over for a few moments before nodding.

“Alright this is the place to start lookin.” Hosea says as you pull the springfield rifle from your saddle, loading it with express bullets.

“And what exactly are we lookin’ for?” You ask, never having hunted before.

“Bear shit, tracks, fur, blood, anythin’ really.” Arthur answers, patting Balius before coming towards you.

You nod, falling into step with Arthur as you both follow Hosea. The three of you walk around for a long while, scanning the ground, slowly inching around. You see nothing but rocks, grass, leaves, and sticks. Arthur has noticed that you sigh loudly every few minutes, kicking a rock or a stick out of your way as you grumpily walk around in search of anything.

“Arthur, this is boring as hell.” You whisper out of earshot from Hosea. Arthur chuckles lightly, rubbing at his stubble.

“You won’t be sayin’ that when there's a half ton beast comin’ at you.”

“If we ever find it that is.” You huff, crossing your arms as you follow the men. After a few minutes, Hosea stops, waving you both to come over.

“Bear dung here, fresh.” Hosea explains, looking over the pile.

“Never thought I’d be glad to hear it…” You mumble under your breath.

“How close you think, Arthur?” Hosea asks, looking up to the younger man.

“I reckon he ain’t far. See a few tracks here,” Arthur points in the direction of the disturbed trail. “They disappear up here, it splits off into two trails.”

You look at the two trails. One wraps around the side of the hill, and the other continues through a valley. You’re tired of standing around, walking slow and looking at bear shit, so you nod, walking through the valley.

“Where you goin?” Arthur asks, gesturing to you with furrowed brows. You turn around, slowly walking backwards to yell at him.

“Goin’ to find this thing!” You holler back, and Arthur sighs, telling Hosea to go with you while he searches the other trail.

You wait for Hosea to catch up to you, chuckling as Arthur stomps up the hill in the other direction.

“I don't mean to question your thought process, but what's your plan if we do come across this bear?” Hosea asks as you pull your rifle around into your hands.

“Well I guess I’ll shoot it. N’ if that don’t work, you go get Arthur, or we run, I don’t know.” You admit, shrugging your shoulders lightly, “Wasn’t this your idea?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah but now that we’re actually here, I’m wondering if this was a bad idea.” Hosea huffs, and you crack a smile.

You walk the trail for a while, not really seeing much for about ten minutes. Just as you're about to turn around you see something on the grass up ahead. You jog up to it, crouching to the ground.

"Hosea, I found a fish! He's eaten most of it, he can't be far now." You chime, looking at the fresh blood and teeth marks.

"Uh, Star?" Hosea calls your attention, barely over a whisper. Slowly, you turn around.

Hosea is standing facing away from you, frozen in a statue-like stance. About forty feet down the trail stands the largest bear you've ever seen in your life. Its face is scarred, an eye is missing. On all fours this bear is as tall as you, and your breath hitches in your throat.

"Don't move." Hosea whispers, as the bear inches forward. You can't help it, fear taking over as you stand up from your crouch.

You take a step backwards, and your boot squishes right down onto the fish. The slip surprises you. Instinctually, you gasp, pulling your foot back away quickly with a yelp.

The bear's ears prick forward at your noise and motion, and he roars, spit flying from his mouth as he charges.

"Oh SHIT!" You scream as the bear charges straight forward. Quickly, you pull your rifle around and fire. You hit the bear in the leg, and then in the shoulder, and you curse your shaking hands. The bear charges for Hosea, but as you continue trying to shoot it, it switches direction, coming straight for you. You gasp, pumping bullets into it, missing some, hitting random areas and grazing it in others. It will not go down.

You cry out as the bear gets closer, firing once again before it runs into you, a paw against your chest as it knocks you to the ground. Your rifle is knocked away from your hands, and lies uselessly far away in the dirt. Your heart pumps rapidly as the bear roars in your face, ready to tear you to pieces.

You quickly reach down, unsheathing your knife as the bear's claws against your chest push down painstakingly. Your ribs ache from the impact of hitting the ground so hard, but you can do nothing about it as you plunge your knife into the bear's chest. It yelps, snarling and growling as you pull the knife out, sinking it back in until the bear falls to the ground at your side with a yelp.

You pant, chest rising and falling rapidly as you lay on the ground. Your eyes slip closed as you drop the knife to the ground.

"Am I dead?" You whisper, peaking an eye open, relieved to see the setting sun.

"Oh my God, Star, are you alright?" Hosea calls out from his position backed against a tree on the ground. You ask yourself the same question, noticing that it hurts when you breathe, your ribs ache and there are some scratches against your collarbone where the bear had dug his claws in, but other than that you're okay.

"Think so." You hum, just as Arthur approaches, sprinting down the grassy patch.

"What in the hell happened?" Arthur yells, glancing between you and Hosea and the bear, dead at your side.

"We found the bear." You whisper, placing a hand over your ribcage and hissing.

"The bear found us." Hosea corrects, standing up from the ground with a sigh.

"I'm sorry dear girl. I wouldn't have brought you up here if I would have known." Hosea says, feeling guilty.

Arthur comes over to the grass where you are lying, and he sits down beside you.

"You alright?" He asks, seeing where a deep patch of blood soaks through your shirt. It's not yours, but he's sure you're hurting somewhere.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just let me lay here for a minute n' feel sorry for myself." You whisper, breath coming down from its heightened pace as you slip your eyes closed.

"I'm afraid my age seemed to have slipped me. I ain't as young as I used to be and it shows. I'm shaken up beyond repair, think I'll return to camp to lick my wounds." Hosea chuckles, "You folks comin' with?" He asks.

Arthur glances down at you, noticing the way you cling to your ribs. You shouldn't be riding, it's probably best that you rest for the night.

"We'll set up camp here, be back in the mornin'. She should just rest for now." Arthur responds, and you're relieved for it. A few hours' ride home does not sound fun, and besides, you packed a bag in case.

"Okay." Hosea smiles, "I'll see you kids then, be safe."

Then Hosea directs his attention to Arthur.

"Take care of her, son."

With that, Hosea leaves, whistling for his new horse and trotting off into the night with it. Once he's out of the trees, Arthur looks to you.

"C'mon, I'll set us up a camp. Looks like that storms finally comin' in."

You think back to what Charles had said about the rain, and peek up to the evening sky, colored with black clouds.

Arthur pulls you to your feet and you groan, before he whistles for the horses.

"I'll get you settled then get that bear." Arthur hums and you nod.

Arthur starts a little fire a ways away, getting it set up with his percolator and an iron cooker. Once it's set up nicely, he goes back to skin the bear. You grab your bag from Athena, rolling out your little bedroll on the grass before sitting down on it criss-crossed. The night is cold, and you dig through your bag searching for your coat.

You groan, realizing that you must have forgotten it at home. Rain starts to drip down quietly, just a sprinkle, but it's enough to chill you to the bones as you bring your knees up to your chin.

"Why ain't you got a coat on? You're shiverin'." Arthur points out, walking back toward you with a pelt and a bundle of bagged meat in his hands. His eyebrows are drawn together as he comes forward.

"I forgot it."

Arthur chuckles, setting his things on the ground beside the fire before going towards Balius.

"Course ya did." He chuckles pulling something from his saddlebag before coming up behind you. You crane your neck up to look at him as he drapes a coat over your shoulders. It's tan with a warm wool interior, it's warm, and you wrap it around your body as tight as you can, shivering.

The coat is so big on you, it swallows you up, and you relish in the warmth. But the most intriguing aspect of it is the scent. The coat smells just like Arthur, like gunsmoke and tobacco and something else so indescribably him that you dig your frozen nose into the fabric.

"Don't you got a tent…?" Arthur asks kindly, worried over you. He places a few cuts of bear meat over the cooker on the fire, eying you as he does.

"Hm hm" You mumble, shaking your head no.

"Why didn't you say somethin'? Here let me put mine up, you can sleep in there for the night." Arthur says, checking to make sure the bear meat won't burn before he starts gathering the materials to build your tent.

"Why don't you change into a fresh pair of clothes. Your shirts covered in blood, that can't be helpin' your chill. N' you can check for any cuts that need bandaged up." Arthur suggests, down on one knee across the fire, stabbing the beam supports into the wet soil.

"I ain't just gonna strip down right here. Especially not with you right here." You point out. Arthur stands up, tying together the posts.

"Get changed. You're freezin' to death n' you're worried about a gaze when we're in the middle of nowhere." Arthur chuckles, shaking his head at your stubbornness. You look down at your ruined clothes, blood spattered across your torso from stabbing the bear in the heart whilst he was right over you.

"Fine but you better not peek." You say, standing up and walking over towards Athena.

"Star-" Arthur sighs, laughing, "I ain't gonna peek."

"Good. Cause if you do peek I'll have to kill ya," You smile. "No man's ever laid eyes on me indecent before, and that sure as hell ain't changin' now." You mumble, not even thinking about your words. Arthur however, stiffens, hands stilling where they were pulling the canvas over his tent. His shoulders tighten and he swallows thickly. No man…? Ever…?

He coughs, awkwardly.

"Alright well, uh. Hurry up." He mumbles, putting all of his focus onto the tent and forcing himself not to turn around.

You take his coat off, letting it fall to the grass. Arthur counts the pieces of clothing as they fall, flinching each time a new piece hits the ground. It seems to be forever until you're undressed, but eventually you stand naked in the night. You're facing away from eachother. And if he did turn around, he would be met with your exposed backside… but he won't. He's a gentleman and he's made a promise that he intends to keep.

You stand bare facing Athena, digging through your saddlebag as a slight panic starts to creep up your neck. The rain has picked up, coating you in a cold, yet glistening wet. You dig through the bag, realizing that you hadn't brought a shirt. You were so worried about Dutch and money that you didn't bring the most basic of necessities. You shiver, covering your breasts with your hands.

"Arthur…?" You ask, sounding so coy and small, it's foreign to your ears.

"Everything okay? You decent?" Arthur asks, swallowing thickly.

"No! No, I didn't… I didn't bring a shirt." You say, quietly.

"Oh… Go ahead n' take one from my bag. It'll swallow you up, but be better than nothing." Arthur answers, finishing the tent as the rain picks up. He makes an obvious attempt not to look at you as he turns around, grabbing the meat from the fire and taking it into the tent.

"Just come in here when you're ready." He hollers from inside.

You go over to Balius, leaning up on your tiptoes to reach into the shire's bag. Your fingers brush against a soft cloth, and you pull out a neatly folded jade green shirt. It's long sleeved, it'll be warm and it smells like him. You smile, pulling it over your bare body. The shirt comes down to your mid thighs, and the top buttons are undone three holes down, leaving a little of your chest exposed, including three scratches from the bear along your collarbone. You frown at it, pulling his coat back on before reaching for your undergarments and sliding them up your legs.

Your jeans are destroyed, muddied and caked in fur and blood. You don't bother to put them on, knowing they're garbage. Instead you opt to just wear the shirt. It covers you enough, and you prefer sleeping without pants anyways.

You grab your saddlebag, running through the rain until you break through the tent flap, finally escaping the cold water.

"Jesus, cold huh?" Arthur laughs at the way you've barreled into the place. He has turned the whole floor into a bed, as there's not much room. The two bedrolls beside each other take up the whole floor. Arthur sits up, two plates in his hand, and he holds one out to you.

"Frozen." You whisper, sitting on your knees and wrapping Arthur's coat further around you before taking the plate from him. He's cooked up the bear, seasoning it with some oregano and thyme, and you smile for it.

"Maybe if you were wearing pants, ya wouldn't be so cold." Arthur chuckles, forcing his eyes away from the glistening rain on your thighs.

"Yeah well I don't want to." You bite, getting an idea, "Oh! Arthur, I brought rolls!" You chime, digging through your saddlebag until you find the little dinner rolls. You hand him one, and he lifts it up in a little toast.

"Thanks, look, we're havin' a proper dinner." Arthur chuckles.

"Yeah for once."

You eat and chat, enjoying each other's company for a long while. The rain on the tent roof is comforting, and the thunder that usually frightens you doesn't seem so bad now that you're with him. After you've both had your fill, he puts the plates away. You're still shivering, and Arthur's too big shirt slips down over your shoulder.

His eyes flicker to your exposed shoulder, and you go to pull the cloth back up but he knocks your hand away.

"You didn't tell me he scratched you." Arthur mumbles, eyes flickering up to your own as you shrug your shoulder away from his touch, covering it again.

"Just a scratch." You whisper, looking down to the sore wound.

Arthur slides forward, chest towards yours, so close that your knees touch.

"Let me salve it." He whispers, and you look up to his crystal blue-green eyes.

"It aint a big deal, Ar-"

"Please." He urges, eyes locked onto yours as you nod your head lightly.

He reaches into his bag, pulling out the same little tin of poultice that he'd used on your thigh in Colter.

"I use this on you far too much. You oughta be more careful." Arthur whispers, and his breath floats down to your skin, warming you and causing a chill to run over you at the same time.

He gently takes the collar of your shirt, well his shirt, and pulls it down to expose more of your chest and collarbone. You shiver, not from the cold, as he runs his finger alongside the scratch with feather-like lightness.

"Steady." Arthur chuckles, a sound you're familiar with and he applies some salve to your cut. It's so intimate, another thing that's becoming familiar with Arthur, which terrifies you.

To calm your anxieties, you instinctually trace your fingers over the scar on your right thigh. Arthur notices, and he brushes your fingers away from your leg gently.

"Still botherin' you?" He whispers against your skin. You shake your head, ignoring the way his fingers rest on your thigh.

"N-no, just a habit I guess." You stutter, rendered speechless. Artgur focuses his attention back to your collarbone, neatly covering it with the poultice.

His lip quirks halfway up in a smile before he continues.

"Didn't know if you was gonna make it down here after Colter. Thought that fever was gonna do you in." He mumbles, thinking about all that you’ve overcome. Your eyes are downcast, watching as his hand applies the salve to your scrapes. He finishes with your collarbone, and closes the tin up.

“I didn’t know if any of us were makin’ it down from Colter.” You admit, watching as Arthur pulls the shirt back up over your shoulder.

“I'm worried about Lenny,” Arthur sighs, “wherever he and Micah ended up. And I hope Sean is safe for now till we can get to him.”

You nod, thinking about Sean stuck down in Blackwater.

“Yeah, me too. Javiers’ down there with Josiah now. Charles should be heading down in a day or two to help him scope out the town.” You whisper, sighing before tying your hair up and lying down on your bedroll. Arthur hums, watching as you turn towards him on your side, curled up in a ball inside his coat. He chuckles, lying down on his own bedroll beside yours. He lies on his back, hands on his chest, thinking. You’re shivering still, even with his coat. Arthur takes his hat off, fully laying back while keeping an eye on you. He notices that your eyes are far away, your breathing slow and concentrated.

“Caught up in that head again. Whatcha thinkin’ bout?” Arthur asks, crossing his ankles as he intertwines his fingers over his stomach. You hum with a sad smile, drawn out of your stupor by his words.

“My parents… My past.” You admit, pressing one hand against the ground and propping your head up with the other.

“After I shot that creditor I thought I’d never stop runnin from the law. There was so much blood on me, I thought I’d never wash it off.” You whisper, sighing and biting your lip to stop it from trembling. Arthur turns onto his side, mirroring you by propping his head up so you can talk face to face.

“I guess I haven’t yet. I still got blood on my hands.” You frown. Arthur nods, looking down at the space between the two of you.

“Was he the only man you killed before joinin’ us?” Arthur asks, and your lip trembles.

“No… After I left, I was nothing. Just a shell of a person, cared for nothin’, for no one. I was so damn angry. I killed bounty hunters, lawmen. I killed-” You choke on a sob, shoving it back, “I killed people that hurt me, n’ people who tried to hurt me.”

Arthur doesn’t speak, listening to your story. He wants to know how you’ve become so hurt, so afraid of feeling.

“God, my parents would be disappointed if they could see me now.” You chuckle, humorlessly. Arthur’s eyes slip shut with some pain, and he reaches out to brush a tear from your eye with his thumb.

“Now Star, that ain’t true.” Arthur coos, heart breaking at your tears.

“Oh, it is. My daddy was anyway, when he was alive. You’d never come across a stricter man, in his later years anyway. Didn’t let me get away with or try nothin.” You huff, “Didn’t stop me from tryin’ though.”

The wind howls outside, and you shove yourself tighter into your coat.

“Tell me about em.” Arthur asks, and you’re surprised by his curiosity, furrowing your brow, but continuing nonetheless.

“They were in love, truest love you’d ever see.” You smile, and Arthur sees the sparkle in your eyes while recounting your childhood. “I was their only kid, their little miracle.”

Arthur’s eyebrows pull together, and you rush to explain.

“You see, the doctor said momma couldn’t have children n’ that's why she started callin’ me Star. She wished on em’ every night for a baby… Here I am.” You say, smiling sweetly and toying with the blanket of the bedroll. Arthur concludes that you’re right. You are a miracle. You had to have been made from some divine intervention, you're too perfect to be otherwise.

“She was feistier than me, even. I know where I got it from. N’ daddy was grounded, level headed and smart. They kept each other balanced. It was all near perfect… till momma got sick that is.” You mumble, looking up to Arthur. He’s smiling down at you, a warmth in his eyes that is piecing together the background of who you are. You blush, realizing that you’ve explained everything about yourself, and asked him nothing.

“What about you?” You ask, “What was your childhood like?”

Immediately Arthur’s smile falters, and he lies back on his back, sighing. You’re afraid that you’ve overstepped, or upset him, but after a moment he opens up.

“Nothin’ good.” He mumbles, a dark edge to his words. You leave yourself as an open ear, ready to offer him the same comfort that he’s provided you. You want to know about his parents, his life. Hell, you want to know everything about him, as long as he’s comfortable telling you. He has so many layers, so many contradictions. You’re curious as to where they’ve all derived from.

“Momma died when I was just a kid, smallpox. After she passed it was just me and daddy. He was a cruel bastard, the type who enjoyed the pain he caused. See, I was more of his punchin’ bag than his kid. He made me steal for him, made me kill for him. I knew what would happen if I didn’t listen to him. Not that it mattered, nothin’ pleased him.” Arthur sighs, running his hand over his face.

“Don’t talk about him much…” He whispers, afraid by how much he’s just opened up to you, afraid you’ll push him away.

“Arthur, I’m so sorry.” You whisper, hand resting on his forearm. You want to say more but what else can you say?

“Daddy was never kind, never good. He hurt my momma too, even when she was sick. My momma was good. She deserved so much better than that piece of shit. I wanted to protect her so badly. Was just a kid, n’ I wanted to kill him, Star. I saw what he did to her and…” Arthur’s fist clenches involuntarily, “I wanted to kill him.”

You’re at a loss for words, shocked and aching for the trauma he must have gone through. And just being a kid, he never felt sorry for himself. He just wanted to protect her. It speaks volumes about his personality, and you see pieces of that hurting little boy in Arthur today.

“I ran away once, few months after she passed.” Arthur admits, looking up at the ceiling of the tent.

“Just a boy, only eight or so. I didn’t get real far. He found me, made sure I never ran away again. He knocked some teeth out, just baby ones.” Arthur adds, as if that somehow makes it better, “even broke one of my goddamn ribs.”

“Arthur–” You interject, tears pooling in your eyes. He offers you a little smile, letting you know that he’s okay to continue.

“I never ran away again, not till I saw him swing. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw me standin’ at the gallows, knowin’ I wasn’t gonna do anythin’ to stop it.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, and you want to hug him, to hold him, to do anything to take this pain away from him.

“I walked up to the gallows when it was over, picked his hat up from the mud. I wear it to remind myself who not to be… I know it's in me, I got his blood, his rage.”

You glance to Arthur's hat on the ground, seeing the meaning behind it. For the first time since he’s started talking, Arthur looks at you. There are unshed tears in his eyes, ones that you wish you could wipe away.

“How can you look at your wife, your boy, and wanna hurt them?” He asks, searching your eyes for some answer that you cannot provide. He inhales, forcing those tears back.

“He was a sick man,” Arthur growls, an anger coming over him, “I never would have hurt my son, Star. Not ever.” He hisses, and you sit up on your bedroll, eyebrows pulled together.

“...Your son?” You ask, and Arthur curses, head in his hands.

You cross your legs, looking to him with no judgment, only worry.

“Yeah, I had a boy… Isaac was his name.” Arthur starts, eyes slipping shut. He wants to tell you, wants to explain everything, but it's too much.

“Can we-” Arthur sighs, looking up to you with so much pain in his eyes that your heart shatters.

“Can we just lay here for a bit? I wanna tell you everything, I do, but it's a lot, all at-” Arthur rambles, voice quiet. He stops when your hand finds its place on top of his own.

“It’s alright, Arthur.” You say, sincerely. And you take his hands, pulling him up to a sitting position. To his surprise, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his head to rest on your good shoulder in a hug.

“S’okay.” You whisper against his hair as Arthur snakes his hands around your waist.

“I'm so sorry, Arthur. You didn’t deserve any of that pain.” You reassure him, but he brushes it off.

“I was alright. All over now-”

“Don’t. Don’t downplay your pain, it doesn’t work. I should know.” You whisper.

You both stay like that for a while, neither onr of you wanting to pull away. Arthur is feeling more vulnerable than ever, but he trusts you more than anyone. He knows you’ll keep this between the two of you.

"You're nothin' like him, Arthur. Nothing." You whisper, and Arthut nods, finally hearing the words that he's needed to hear for so long.

After a few more minutes, Arthur pulls away, resting down on the bedrolls and patting the space beside him. He's just a little closer to your side than he was before. He wants to thank you, to explain that you've helped him in so many ways, saved his soul time and again, broken down the walls around his heart, but he's not sure how.

You smile as you lie down next to him, soothed by the rain. Your hands are in between each other, resting on the blankets. After a while your heart beats faster, feeling his fingers brush against your own. Slowly, as if testing the waters, his hand moves closer to yours, until you both mutually intertwine your fingers. You smile as he runs this thumb over your knuckles. You’re the first to fall asleep, but even then, Arthur doesn’t pull away. The two of you are wholly comforted by each other's presence, just not quite sure how to show it.

— — — —

The next day, you arrive back at camp feeling better. There's a weight off of your shoulders, having cracked away another one of your layers before Arthur. He feels relieved and more afraid all the same. He had told you more in one night than he’s told anyone. Even Hosea. Still, he doesn’t regret it. He’s glad to know that some of the dark conversation is over, and he can breathe a little easier now that it’s no longer weighing on him. As you dismount, hitching Athena, Arthur moves past you, tapping your arm with a little nod. You smile, just taking the mare’s saddle off as a loud voice calls to you from the otherside of camp.

“You’re back!” Dutch hollers, arms outstretched as wide as the smile on his face. You turn to him, still wearing Arthur’s shirt alongside your old jeans. Dutch doesn’t miss this, and his eyes glance from you to Arthur in his tent, wondering exactly what you and Arthur got up to on your getaway.

“I am.” You say with a sigh.

“Good, now come with me.” Dutch says, and you know there's no room for argument as he leads you through camp to his oversized, white tent.

“What's this about Dutch?” You ask, irritated, as he holds the canvas up for you to walk under his arm into his tent. He enters after you, sitting down in his chair, propping a leg up on a wooden crate.

“Everyone seems to be saying good things about you…” Dutch hums, looking over your body, sizing you up, to see where he can best play you like a damn chest piece.

“That’s… good?” You somewhat ask, completely unsure of where he’s going with this. He leans back, the front feet of his chair tipping up into the air as he squints at you.

“Why haven't you been on a job yet? A real one?” He asks, and you scoff.

“I was on a job, with Arthur and Hosea, but you kinda threw a hitch in that plan when you blew up a goddamn boat.” You bite, harsher than expected. His tongue darts out over his lips, dark eyes scanning you over.

“Marybeth got word of a train, sneaking through Lemoyne in the dead of the night- filled with rich passengers. It’ll be cruisin through virtually unprotected.” Dutch emphasizes the last word, a dangerous glint of power in his eyes as they flick up to you. He seems to have pieced together where he wants you, he's found a play for you to work for him.

“I want you there.” He says, pointing at you, at your brows pull together.

“Alright…”

“A lot of these boys- they’re good boys- they can shoot, and they can steal. But you? You’re a schemer, a player. I can see it in those eyes. You’re like me, like Hosea. We could use your head out there.” Dutch speaks as if his plan is coming together.

“And I’ll get a cut?” You ask, making sure this isn’t charity work.

“Of course.” Dutch responds. You nod, thinking it over.

“Alright, whens it comin’ by?” You ask, and Dutch smiles at your eager attitude.

“Few weeks. Talk with John and Arthur. Come up with a plan, do as you see fit.” He explains, and you nod, moving towards the exit.

“Oh and miss?” Dutch calls after you, and you turn around.

“Do make me proud. I'm not a man you want to cross.” Dutch warns, and you crack a smile, nodding at his attempt to frighten you.

“Sure thing, Dutch.” You respond, and he sticks his tongue in his cheek, looking over you.

“That attitude. I would say it's not ladylike, but I've always been attracted to women with spitfire like yours.” Dutch says, voice almost as low as the glint in his eyes. You bite your tongue for a moment, adjusting your weight to your other foot, and cock your head.

“Molly know you’re sayin’ things like that, Dutch?" You hiss, and Dutch’s smile falters. His stare becomes menacing.

“Molly and I are done-” He starts, and much to his growing rage, you interrupt him.

“Yeah I can see why.” You snap at him. His face turns red with anger as he stands up, and the chair scrapes loudly from how quickly he gets out of it. He comes straight up to you, towering over you, but you don’t back up.

“Excuse me? Do you know who you’re talking to?” Dutch growls, and you only smile sweetly, looking up to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dutch. I thought you liked women with ‘spitfire’ like mine.” You hum, watching as he steps back, shocked and insulted. You chuckle, parting the canvas of the tent.

Causing the gang leader to hate you is probably not a great idea, but you can’t help it. He needs to be humbled by someone. And it's funny. He sits on his high horse, in his castle-sized tent, ordering everyone around while reading, listening to music and smoking cigars. You laugh at the contradiction in his philosophy. He is exactly what he swears to destroy: an overseer, a power hungry fool. Satisfied with your little victory over Dutch, you settle in your tent, pulling out your journal.

It's been a busy few days. Got a new horse, Arthur calls her Athena. She is something special, by god. Beautiful Palomino, eyes blue as the sky. Took her up with Arthur and Hosea to catch a bear, but it nearly caught me first. Arthur and I stayed up there the night, it was real special. We talked a lot. He said things I'm sure he's never said before, and so did I. It was nice, having someone to talk to. I worry for him. There's so much pain in his heart, so much ache, old and deep. I hope that one day he can move on from it all, start anew. I guess I wish the same thing for me too…

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you

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