#its not like hosea knew dutch from when he ran away at 15.

[ursaspecter]

Even if John and Arthur didn't consider each other to be brothers, the fact that Arthur was 22 when he met John at *12* would make Arthur super predatory for pursuing John as soon as he was old enough. Like fine. Ship what you want I don't fucking care anymore I'm too tired to care about this anymore when there are bigger problems. But you cannot tell me that morston is not problematic in that regard.

I'm not saying you're a bad person or deserve to die or whatever for shipping it or for liking something Problematic(tm). But you cannot ignore that element about their relationship unless you just pick and choose what you consider to be canon. And at that point you might as well just make ocs.

[irishmacguirefucker]

Home

Or alternatively, Charles Smith loves his new family and would follow arthur anywhere

(4 pages of writing brought 2 u by me blacking out and typing a lot. TW: Hunting, non-descriptive skinning/harvesting of animals, Wolves)

Charles may be a newer member of the gang, but he was there long enough to be just as loyal as any other.

He found a family in these people, brothers and sisters and friends. He would stick with them until the end. An end that seemed to be rapidly approaching.

Charles Smith wouldn't consider himself much of an intellectual, but it doesn't take much to see that the gang life is dying out. As he and Arthur got close, they spoke of it a lot.

Arthur's new focus on treasure hunting was really confusing. For the second time, Arthur asked Charles if they could take a detour on a hunting trip to go find some treasure stash or another that he heard about.

They weren’t exactly in a rush to get back, so Charles didn't exactly have a reason to decline. And Dutch was in a foul mood lately anyway, so maybe coming back with a little treasure might help with that.

So he agreed and followed Arthur and his weird map, all the way up assfuck nowhere Amberino, AKA Coterra Springs.

The whole way there, Arthur seemed off. Neither of them are exactly talkative men, but this wasn't their usual comfortable silence. Arthur barely stopped, not taking the time to comment on landmarks or interesting animals, they even passed a herd of paints and he barely glanced at them.

Getting there was somewhat of a blessing, Arthur seemed happy they had made such good time and immediately wanted to try and find the treasure. Charles had to be the one to pull him back and point out the obvious signs of a wolf pack living nearby.

This seemed to ring a bell in Arthur’s mind, and he pulled out his journal, flipping to the back where he had various maps tucked away. Pulling out his Legendary Animals map, he showed it to Charles. Should they encounter wolves today, they would be dealing with some dangerous ones.

They made a plan, Charles would keep an eye out for movement along the treeline (as well as pull a distracted Arthur away from the geysers), and Arthur would search for the next piece of the Jack Hall Gang's treasure.

(Charles had broken the silence on the way there to ask. “Jack Hall Treasure...as in the gang? What were they doing hiding maps and treasure?”

Arthur responded lowly, not wanting any passersby to hear what they were out for. “Apparently ‘fore they died out, they robbed some banks out in California, ran out here to escape the law. Buried the gold they stole an’ wrote out the maps to find it again, but Hall got his gang killed and arrested with a bad robbery ‘fore they could go back for the money.”

“Huh, some story. Song don’t quite hold up, specially with Sean and Uncle singing it.” Arthur chuckled at that, “Most songs don’t with ‘em.” The break in heavy silence was nice, but short lived as Arthur set back to studying the map.)

Arthur seemed to be getting more and more frustrated with the doodles on the map, trying to compare it to his regular map, and his surroundings. Charles said nothing, focusing on what looked to be shifting forms in the trees, wondering if it was elk or wolves.

By the time he realized it was wolves, it was too late. They had herded the men and their steeds without the knowledge of either. Just as Charles was about to quietly get Arthur’s attention, the man spotted what he was looking for.

“Charles, I think I found the damned treasure!” He said loudly, and pulled out a rattling bag of coins, effectively scaring the nervous horses into rearing and setting off the wolves.

It was a close call, the wolf of legend was massive and more intelligent than the average wolf. The pack was bigger than either of them had seen. A few of them ran off after the fleeing horses and the men could only hope they would be alright as they dealt with the majority of the pack and the biggest of them all.

The wolves seemed to run at them in waves of 3 or 4, always outnumbering the men and getting mighty close to biting distance before they were shot down. It was almost sad, having to take out such a large number of mighty animals, but it was the wolves or them.

Just when the pack seemed to be thinning out enough that they might start to retreat, the massive legendary wolf made his move. He took down Arthur from behind, and it was pure luck that Charles landed a shot through its massive head with his rifle.

The moment the legendary wolf went down, the rest of the wolves seemed to realize they would not be getting their prey and retreated. Several wolves ran back from the direction of the horses and based on the lack of blood covering their muzzles, they were unsuccessful in their pursuit.

Before Charles could even be relieved by the horse's success, Arthur groaned from beneath the massive animal. Charles quickly fell to his knees and dragged the wolf's carcass off Arthur, briefly marvelling at its weight.

Arthur groaned again in relief and heavily pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Christ, I'm too old to be getting knocked down like that. Creature outta be nothin but muscle, taking me down like that.”

Charles laughed, half in relief and half at Arthurs commentary. “He was huge, I’ll give you that. He was likely nearing 150 pounds, very large for a wolf. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just outta breath. Caught me off guard.”

Charles looked at the bag of gold coins sitting on the ground a few feet away. “Was it worth your treasure?”

Arthur seemed to remember it and quickly reached for the bag, apparently not wanting to get up yet. “Suppose we’re gonna find out.” Inside the bag was another map, that Arthur sighed at, but tucked aside to look at after.

He quickly counted the money. “15 dollars, not quite a damn treasure Hall.”

Charles was confused. They had been finding stashes of money like this for a while and as far as he knew, Dutch was just putting it away and it had barely been spent on anything. “It's not a bad haul Arthur, especially not for us. Why are you so focused on treasure lately? We could earn more if we went back to robbery.”

Not that robbery seemed such a good idea right now, after the mess that chased them out of Valentine. But it would certainly get them a larger haul than chasing ambiguous treasure from a years-old map like pirates.

Arthur was silent for a while, what he was contemplating, Charles had no idea. He seemed to be thinking mighty hard on it though. Finally, he sighed deeply and seemed to make up his mind about something.

“It’s quite the story if you wanna hear it. It's a pretty big secret too, not that I've ever been worried ‘bout you running your mouth or nothin.”

Charles smiled warmly at his friend, attempting to put him at ease. “You don't have to tell me Arthur, but you never have to worry about me sharing secrets with anyone. And we have nothing but time, we’ll be skinning these wolves for a while anyway.”

Arthur sighed before dragging himself to his feet. “Suppose you’re right. Let’s start getting these dogs together and I’ll tell you all about Hosea’s plan.”

Arthur did just that. He told the story from the beginning, every detail he remembered as they carefully skinned the wolves and salvaged what meat they could. Partway through, the horses had found their way back, a little antsy but no worse for wear.

By the time Arthur had explained the entire plan, night had fallen and they were finding a spot to camp. (Away from the spot where they left the stripped carcasses, lest they be attacked by a damn bear in their sleep.)

Charles had a lot of thoughts. The plan itself seemed rather solid and safe, definitely a result of Hosea being the one to make it. He would definitely need some time to think about it before he could make any real comments on it. For now, he could only say; “Certainly explains why Dutch is so irritable lately.”

Arthur laughed loudly, and Charles smiled. Arthur seemed so excited about this plan, happier than he had seemed in the whole of their friendship.

“Yeah, he weren't a fan of our lack of faith...Do you think you’ll go, Charles?”

Now that was quite the question. Such a life wasn’t anything Charles ever thought of as a possibility for himself, though he expects that how most everyone feels about it.

He thought about his family. Not so much his father, but his poor mother. She had always wanted a peaceful life for her family, and he can’t help but think she would have been thrilled at the idea of her son finding a ‘proper’ home after just wandering since he was 13. The lone wolf was never a title she would have wanted for him.

He also thought of the rest of his gang, his new family. He would never say it to her, but he had always hoped that one day Abigail would take her baby and find herself a safer home, he never wanted that boy to end up an orphan like him and many of the other members. Them and everyone else in the gang could be safe and fed and happy, and in a way, he felt he deserved to be a part of it. After being a lone wolf so long, he had earned a home to share with his family.

“I think I will. I’d like to see what it's like to have a real home. I haven't had that since my mother was taken.” He hadn't meant to be so open when he started speaking, but he supposed that Arthur is his closest friend now, so why not.

Arthur seemed surprised at his open words, but it shifted to happiness. “You know, I think that's somethin’ I’d like to try as well.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while as the fire got properly warm, and Charles couldn't help but notice that this silence felt so different from Arthur’s silence on the way here.

And on their way home, Arthur stopped to study the herd of American paint horses, and Charles knew all was well once more.

[sunshinexlollipops]

So would you say that Arthur was a victim of Dutch’s psychological abuse or some kind of other abuse?

Hey anon!

So sorry if this reply is a bit odd, I’m spending the night at my friends house and I’m three glasses of wine and one screwdriver into the night and it’s wild. :)

I do wanna make a disclaimer that Dutch wasn’t the same as he is by the time we even play RDR2 as he was throughout his years, but there is definitely something to be said about underlying issues that predated even the obscure beginning to his descent.

I would say that Arthur was in no doubt shaped by his time with both his father and Dutch. But I would say that Dutch had far more of an overall effect on Arthur.

There was a post written by someone on here before and they talked about how Arthur was conditioned to bring results to his father, otherwise he would be beaten. And that makes sense.

It’s not explicitly stated, what happened when Arthur did live with his father, but Arthur ran off at 15 or so, so that is a good amount of time in the sense of his father getting a vice on him through abuse (both physical and verbal, I’m sure).

Growing up that young and enduring abuse can extremely alter someone’s perspective, especially of themselves.

And I can guarantee you that a lot of Arthur’s self-worth and confidence issues lie within the time he lived under his father’s wrath.

As for Dutch, he is more of a psychological abuser. And he no doubt takes advantage of the imprint left behind by Lyle Morgan.

As I mentioned, both that post and the overall concept makes sense— Arthur would want approval because he was beaten without it, and in general, Dutch put a huge emphasis on performing to the task.

Arthur sought the “positive” encouragement and support that Dutch gave him. I feel it fed into Arthur’s insecurities and self-worth issues, because without someone telling him otherwise, Arthur thinks he’s useless or a bad man.

So it makes sense that Dutch’s silver tongue and purposeful words enchanted him as they did when he was young. The praise that Dutch gave was given with intent, and was never truly genuine honesty in the sense it only came from the heart.

But how would Arthur know?

Dutch ws probably the first person (apart from Hosea) to give Arthur that, and I’m sure when it happened Arthur was overwhelmed and hooked from the start. And Dutch more than likely knew this.

This was probably the most influential point in Arthur’s tutorage, and you can tell the impact it had on him. After all, how much of Hosea’s influence do we also see in Arthur?

He was so impressionable at this stage, and I think Dutch saw his opportunity in that.

And so he began to craft Arthur. Slowly but surely.

And if you read the newspaper scrap from Arthur’s tent about his first bank robbery, it took place on April 15th, 1887— only 12 years before the game takes place.

So Arthur was more than likely 24 around the time he did his first robbery.

And that is about almost 10 years difference from when he was picked up by Dutch.

So almost ten years was spent molding Arthur.

That isn’t just something you can easily brush off.

And, as I mentioned in other replies, Arthur took John “replacing” him personally.

That spotlight he’s been given was taken away and redirected at a new star for Dutch to wish upon, and it left Arthur in the dark.

The toll it must’ve been to go from the beloved favorite son to finding out you were merely a prototype must’ve been hard for Arthur to swallow.

But where else could he go?

What else could he do?

At this point, Arthur is twenty-something years old, and this life is ingrained into him. He’s also far too young to realize the gravity of it all or want for much else.

The twilight days were yet to come, and happenstance only drew Arthur further into the gang.

He lost Eliza and Isaac, and he lost Mary. He wasn’t a good father, and wasn’t good enough to wed Mary.

But he was good enough for Dutch, once.

Maybe he could be good enough again?

So Arthur strived harder, worked harder, fell in harder, because he only wanted what Dutch once gave him.

Even by the time we play, it’s so god damn evident. When Dutch calls him his son. I think mainly to the time after racing Arthur back to Clemens Point— the look on Arthur’s face.

It still happens.

He still wants to bring pride to the gang because while Arthur never can bring pride to himself, he takes what he can vicariously through giving to others.

He thinks he is only worth what he is capable of, and it’s what others think too.

So whenever of the gang gives him shit when he falls severely ill with TB, it’s a splash of cold water.

Especially with Dutch giving him hell as he does, because for the first time since Dutch picked him off the streets years ago, Arthur is incapable of giving him what he wants.

His treatment of Arthur changes, and it reverts almost to the likes of his father in terms of the vile degradation he faces.

“Arthur just needs to rest—“ spoken with mocking when Arthur is fucking dying.

Arthur’s value was placed in what he could do for the gang — for Dutch — and he was conditioned from an early age to desire and strive to please Dutch as much as he could.

And when he wasn’t able to perform up to par, Dutch’s “hard love” soon lost its superficial face.

So yes. Dutch was as abusive as Lyle Morgan, but in his own way.

He may not have beaten Arthur with his fists, but he damn well made Arthur think he had to use his own just to matter.

[arthurmorganismycowdad]

A/N: ok hi I wrote this listening to my Arthur playlist so like. It gets emotional. I decided to give my idea of what the whole, Arthur returning to Isaac and Eliza to find two crosses in their place thing. Details to keep in mind: I imagine Arthur to have been around 21 when he and Eliza had Isaac, which would make him 25 in this. I also included a tiny tiny part of an oc called Annie, but she’s literally just a memory so she’s really not that significant. Just a heads up for any confusion! Enjoy!

It was muscle memory at this point. The ride to the house just in the corner of the woods. The trail between trimmed shrubs and branches that created an arch above it, almost like it was welcoming him into its grasp. It was a pretty house, too, no doubt. Folk wondered how Eliza Holliday, the sweet, quiet barmaid could afford something like it. She had been living with her parents in their tiny little shack in town, when all of a sudden word spread that the house in question was bought by her. It was strange enough that she could afford it, a girl her age, and even stranger that she’d occupy it alone. Folk couldn’t make sense of it. 

No one linked it to the heist. The answer to their question was right in front of them, clear as day, but no one could think sweet little Eliza could be responsible for the robbery at the mayor’s house, during a party at that. It didn’t even enter their mind.

It wasn’t her. Arthur, however, the same can’t be said for. No amount of persuasion could have made Dutch and Hosea part with such funds, so he reckoned he’d get it himself. With the help of Annie, Eliza’s strange friend, the possibilities were endless. She was a brave girl, Annie. Did more for Eliza than Arthur even knew. Made her smile when she felt down. Planned the Mayor Heist. Died for her. Arthur was forever indebted to Annie. A brave, strong girl. Braver than he could ever be, he imagined. To think, she ran with a gang he was supposed to hate. Their leader was out for Dutch’s blood. Annie may be gone, but the leader she turned on wasn’t. She won that fight.

Her name was Willy, which is odd. She wasn’t a fan of Wilhelmina, according to Annie. She was a good leader at some point. Raised Annie from when she was a little girl. Willy found her wandering around, Annie only 8 years old, looking for Dutch. They both had the same mission even then, only with very different reasons. Willy wanted Dutch dead. Annie was looking for her uncle, at the wishes of her dead mother. Willy worked her magic and did so for 10 more years, turning Annie away from her old idea of Dutch. Her mother’s idea of him. Manipulating her into thinking she was the best parent for her. Annie’s story was a wild one, but she had a kind heart. Right to the end.

Arthur still thought about her. It was impossible not to. Eliza loved her, he knew that much. And Annie loved her right back. The last thing she said to him before she faced Willy one last time was to keep Eliza and the baby safe. He hadn’t even been born yet, and Annie was already looking out for him.

Eliza wasn’t the same after Arthur returned to the house with Annie on the back of it, wrapped up in cloth from head to toe. He understood full well how she felt about her. It was fair, too. He knew he wasn’t in love with Eliza. And she wasn’t in love with him. Both had different people on their mind, and both needed each other to hide that pain.

He didn’t want to think about Mary. Eliza and Arthur weren’t romantic anymore, if they ever really were. They were close, though, and she always encouraged him to talk. She was good at that. And it sure was refreshing to have someone listen. Dutch and Hosea meant the world to him, as did Bessie and Annabelle, but he never felt he could mention Mary around them. He didn’t want them to think he was a fool. He already thought it about himself.

He always got lost in thought on this ride. It was a nice area, full of birds singing and wind rustling the trees. He was glad Isaac was going to grow up somewhere as nice as this. His own childhood wasn’t something he wanted to throw on his own son. It was one of the reasons he didn’t want him constantly moving with the gang, and why he and Annie bought the house for Eliza. He deserved a settled childhood, away from the life of an outlaw. A normal life. If Arthur couldn’t have it himself, he’d make sure his son could.

He didn’t like being away from them. He promised to visit for Isaac’s fourth birthday, which would mean 2 visits that month. That promise couldn’t be kept, which broke Arthur up inside. Trelawny messed up information he had on a job, and it led to the gang hiding out in a barn for a week. So now, a week late, Arthur was surprising them.

His favourite part was hearing the cheer Isaac let out when Eliza would call for him. He was growing so fast, it was like he defied the laws of time. He was a curious kid, too, always running around the garden and getting intrigued by the smallest things. Eliza told him the boy had stared at a blade of grass for 20 minutes, totally amazed. She reckoned he’d be a drawer some day, just like his Pa. it was probably the only trait Arthur wanted to pass down.

He was nearing it now, just about to turn the corner towards the final trail to the house. He imagined the smile on Isaac’s face as he hopped off the horse and ran to hug him. His little boy. God. He never thought he’d get to say that. And Eliza. He was lucky to have her in his life. So damn lucky. There was a love there, even if it wasn’t romantic. They cared for each other very much. Their little family of three.

The horse slowed as the house came into sight, and Arthur prepared his big announcement of his presence. Unconsciously, a smile was forming on his face. He missed them more than he knew. He was finally here. The beautiful house that meant so much to him. The trees that surrounded it making it look like something out of a fairytale. The crisp white paint that was still as bright as the day he painted it. The porch he sat at with his little family and watched the stars on.

A wooden cross. A second cross, right beside it.

The smile dissolved, and was replaced with confusion. He urged the horse to stop, pulling the rains and hopping off. A name was carved into each cross.

In an instant, he was back on the horse, riding back through the trail, that once seemed like something out of a dream. Now it was a nightmare, as branches reached for him and leaves begged him to stay. The wind howled instead of lightly whistling, and the shrubs seemed to close in on each other. He had to go. He had to find them.

The town wasn’t far from the house. Passers-by jumped as he dashed through it, towards the saloon where it all began. She would be in there, standing at the bar like she was that night, a smile on her face. Isaac would be there too this time, running around the saloon or playing on the counter. There would be an explanation. They’d be ok.

The music came to an abrupt halt as he burst into the room, throwing the wooden flaps open and stopping where he stood. Mickey stood at the bar, drying a glass. The second he saw Arthur, his face paled. The boy was red in the face and tears were already streaming down his face. His breath was hitching as he stood there, waiting for the saloon-owner to tell

him.

‘Arthur...’ he began.

‘Where are they?’ he said, his words shaking as they left his mouth.

Mickey stared at him, unable to form the next sentence. He was an older man, late fifties. Not only an employer but a friend to Eliza. He was kind to Arthur, too. Didn’t even complain when his presence prompted a shootout in the bar. Mickey was a good man, and knew what he said next would break the boy’s heart.

‘I went to the house and... and...’ began Arthur.

‘I’m sorry,’ was all he could respond.

‘Where are they, Mickey?’

‘I’m so sorry, Arthur.’

Arthur stood for another moment, breathing heavily, unable to control it. The moment he raised the gun, Mickey threw his hands up. As frightened as he was, he knew the boy was just processing. To hear your world has been taken away isn’t easy.

‘Stop lying to me!’ said Arthur, though it sounded like a whimper now. He wanted so desperately for it to be a lie.

‘Son,’ came a voice behind him. ‘Lower the gun.’

Hosea. Arthur turned to see him, standing with a newspaper in his hand and a look full of sorrow on his face.

‘News got to camp after you left,’ he said. Arthur stared at him, the gun already fallen to his side. The tears had stopped. Now it was just shock. Hosea held the newspaper towards him. He read the words, which barely sunk in, and could only stare. ‘Young mother and child shot dead in Home Robbery’. The saloon matched his silence. His feet slowly moved out the door, stopping when the air from outside hit him. Hosea followed closely behind him. The boy practically fell into his arms, hiding his face in Hosea’s shoulder.

He hadn’t cried like that since he was a child. Hosea only remembered one time, when Arthur was around 15, that he sobbed talking about his mother. It was the first time he really opened up to Hosea. He was a broken person when they first found him. They healed that somewhat, then Mary came along and broke his heart. And he was right back to the broken child they’d found years before. Eliza and Isaac healed that again, only for that to be torn away from him too. Hosea wished it could be different. He wished the life they lived could be better. He wished Arthur could be happy and keep the things that made him that way.

But it just wasn’t like that. And it never would be.

[rebeldaydreams]

Atonement (Dutch van der Linde x Reader)

words: 5k

pairing: Dutch van der Linde x Reader (Gender-neutral), a small amount of Arthur x Reader

summary: After a heated argument with Dutch, Reader storms out of camp but ends up getting caught by the O’Driscoll’s. Dutch, Arthur and Charles come to their rescue.

warnings: fairly mild descriptions of torture with a knife, but nothing super gory or anything

a/n: angst/hurt/comfort fic with a lot of Soft Dutch™ at the end because I live for it. Dutch is a father figure in this story. the Arthur stuff can be whatever you want, platonic or romantic! works either way :)

(H/N = horse name)

It was when most of the camp was gathered round the fire in the early evening that you decided to talk to Dutch. Ideally you'd have preferred a more private setting but a lot of the time he'd shut himself in his room or was “busy”. You were tired of waiting. As you approached the fire and subsequent huddle of people gathered round it – most clutching bottles of beer or whiskey – you caught ear of their conversation.

“Good job today, Arthur.” Dutch said, giving Arthur a congratulatory clap on the shoulder.

“Couldn’t’a done it without you.” He replied.

Hosea piped up from behind them. “Oh and I didn’t do anything I suppose.”

Arthur turned to him and chuckled. “And you, old man.”

Hosea mumbled a begrudged thank you and returned to his drink.

“We’ll be out of here in no time. Especially if we carry on like this.” Dutch said, raising the bottle he held as an unspoken toast.

“And where exactly will we be going?” you asked, stepping forward into the light of the fire as you decided to pitch in. You weren’t sure if it had been the spontaneity of your question, or perhaps the way in which you asked it, but the gang fell silent and heads turned. You looked intently towards Dutch, whose brow had furrowed at your interjection.

“Well...away from here, for starters.” Dutch replied with a small laugh, which was accompanied by a few agreements from the gang. You weren’t sold by his vague answer.

“What happened to “going back to the West”, huh?” you asked. Dutch's smile fell at your response.

“What exactly are you getting at, Y/N?” he asked, watching you carefully. You shrugged.

“I just wanna know what the plan is, Dutch! I’m sick of not knowing, I’m sick of being in a different place every other month!” You said, not as calmly as you’d intended.

Dutch nodded, dropping his now-empty beer bottle on the grass and sliding his hands into his pockets, taking a step towards you.

“We will be out of here soon, I promise you that. All we need is more money, we can’t do anything without more money.” He explained slowly. Your last shred of patience disappeared as the last word left his lips.

“There you go again! All you ever talk about is fucking money!” Your voice was slightly raised now, as much as you were trying to control your temper. You’d just been holding this in so long, it was all coming out whether you wanted it to or not. Dutch remained calm and collected.

“Because we need it, Y/N.” He replied coolly. “I promise you we will be out of here in no time.”

None of the others chipped in or said a word, they stayed silent, listening to the conversation. If it could still be called a conversation. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to put together a coherent sentence.

“I have spent weeks doing what you asked – doing jobs, getting money – with little to no questions asked, because I trust you Dutch. I always have. But look at us.” You gestured vaguely around the camp at Shady Belle. “Hiding in some godforsaken swamp?”

“It’s temporary, Y/N.” Still, Dutch kept his cool. You lost yours.

“Temporary?! Bullshit! We’ve been here for weeks! And still you haven’t told us anything! We’ve got O'Driscolls, Raiders and Pinkertons on us every god damn day and we don’t have any kind of plan. I’m fucking tired of it, Dutch!” your voice was shaking with anger, though also maybe relief at finally letting all this out.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Dutch's voice sounded lower, with more of a growl to it, and the volume had increased just slightly.

You looked at him with an incredulous expression.

“Anything! Tell us what your grand plan is, where we’re going from here. I’m sick of going to bed at night and wondering if I’m going to get shot in my sleep.” You paused a moment, narrowing your eyes at him as the realisation hit you. “But you can’t tell us anything, can you. You can’t tell us your 'grand plan’ because you don’t have one.”

There was a glint of something in Dutch's eyes. You couldn’t quite place it.

“I look up to you, Dutch. We all do. I trust you. But if you don’t know where we’re going from here just tell us. Enough with all this “we just need more money” crap. We need an actual god damn plan.”

Dutch stepped even closer, looming over you, but you stood your ground.

“Why don’t you try being the leader, then, Y/N? Since you feel the need to tell me how to do my job.” He growled.

“”Do your job”? Give me a break, Dutch.” You scoffed at him. “Much as it is hard to believe, the world doesn’t revolve around you, and this camp certainly does not.”

Dutch opened his mouth as if to speak but you cut in again.

“You know what? I’m starting to wish you’d never found me in the first place.” You snapped.

Dutch stood silent for a few moments, taking a step backwards and meeting your gaze.

“Get out.”

The words pierced you like a knife, your stomach turning at hearing them come from his mouth. Arthur stepped forward, grabbing Dutch’s shoulder.

“Dutch, the hell are you-“

“You heard me!” Dutch barked, violently shrugging Arthur off.

You nodded, a fake, forced smile on your face. “You don’t need to ask me twice.”

You turned and stormed off towards your tent. Dutch did the same, retreating to his quarters with not another word.

There was nothing but hushed whispers from the camp for the next 15 minutes as you threw your belongings into your bag - not that you had a lot anyway. You were so deep in your own thoughts that you didn’t hear someone enter your tent behind you.

“Where will you go?” Arthur’s voice sounded and you half turned, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“I’m not sure yet.” You replied in a quiet voice, almost the polar opposite of how you’d spoken to Dutch minutes earlier.

“You don’t have to leave. Just stay here and-“ Arthur began quietly, but you cut him off.

“Dutch made himself quite clear. I think it’s best if I go.” You said.

You picked up your satchel and bag, then turned and finally met Arthur’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” You said, your voice at the risk of breaking. “I just...I need some space.”

You gave him a sorrowful look before passing him and leaving the tent.

As you were securing your bags to your horse you heard footsteps behind you. You knew immediately who they belonged to.

“Jus’ be careful, alright.”

Arthur's soft voice made you turn around and as you met his gaze, tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. You nodded, and Arthur reached out with both hands and cupped your face in his palms.

“I’ll speak to Dutch. Okay? You know what his temper is like...” he said. You nodded again, casting your eyes down. You reached a hand up and briefly covered one of his with your own, lightly brushing the back of his hand with your thumb before you moved away to mount your horse.

You cast one quick glance up at the house, seeing Dutch on the balcony with a cloud of cigar smoke swirling above his head, before you spurred your horse with a “hyah!” and started off down the long road.

You had a friend who had a little place up near Strawberry – you were going to try them first, see if you could crash with them for a little while. They owed you a favour. You kept running your argument with Dutch through your head. Had you been a complete fool? Maybe. Admittedly, you regretted some of the things you’d said in the heat of the moment. You weren’t going to stay away forever, of course, but it was clear you needed some space from Dutch. 

You’d been riding for maybe 2 hours when suddenly you found your path blocked by two men on horseback, with the barrels of their rifles pointed towards you. You brought your horse to a skidding halt, whipping your head round to see three more men now blocking the path behind you. You cursed under your breath.

“Well well well, if it ain’t one of Dutch's loyal dogs.” Came the thick, Irish voice of one of the men blocking your path. You gripped the reins of your horse with white knuckles.

“Let me guess...Colm’s boys?” you said.

They laughed, and the one who had previously spoken pushed his horse a few steps towards you.

“You are a clever one. Colm has a bit of...unfinished business with Mr Van Der Linde. We were hopin' you could help us out.” He said smoothly. You didn’t take your eyes off him.

“You're very sorely mistaken if you believe I'm going to do anything for you.” You said, your hand hovering near your revolver.

“It’s more what you can tell us, actually.”

You hadn’t heard the men behind you dismount. By the time you did, you didn’t have any time to react. They grabbed you, yanking you down off your horse. You were thrown to the dirt road, but when you reached for your gun you found it wasn’t there. Looking up, you saw one of the O'Driscoll's waving it in his hand.

“Looking for this?”

The last thing you heard was a sequence of laughs, before the butt of your revolver made contact with the back of your head. Amidst the chaos, your Horse reared back, neighing loudly in alarm before he ran. One of the men went to go after him but was stopped.

“Let it go, dumb horse won’t last long on its own.” One of the other men said. “Come on let’s get this one back to the camp.”

Your unconscious form was thrown without care onto the back of one of their horses, and then they made off into the sunset whilst your own horse sped off in the direction you'd come from.

It was John’s turn to keep watch that night. A few people were still up and about but the majority of camp were in the privacy of their own tents, or asleep. He had resigned to leaning on a nearby tree as he lit up another cigarette. A few serene minutes passed, with only the distant noises of the swamp audible, until a sound made him straighten up and ready his rifle.

“Who's there?” he called out, squinting down the dark road. He could hear a horse, and eventually it came into view. “I said who's the-“

John cut himself off when he noticed that the horse had no rider.

“What the...” he said with a furrowed brow, lowering his gun and stepping out into the road. At the commotion, Arthur had come out of his tent to see what was happening.

“What’s goin' on?” he asked, coming up to stand beside John as he tucked his journal back into his satchel.

“Horse, but no rider.” John said. Your horse was now close enough so that Arthur could see him properly, and his eyes widened.

“That’s Y/N’s horse – H/N.” He said in alarm, breaking into a jog to meet the distressed animal.

“Whoah, whoah, easy boy. Easy…“ he said, raising his hands to the horse, whose eyes were wide. “Easy.”

After a minute or so of gentle encouragement, H/N calmed down enough so Arthur could pet him.

“There we go, sshh...” Arthur cooed.

Dutch, having heard the loud, distressed neighing, had emerged from camp and was approaching Arthur and John.

“What the hell is all the racket?” he asked. Arthur turned to him, his hands still gently petting H/N on the neck. Dutch's gaze rested on the horse. “Is that...?”

Arthur nodded.

“But where’s Y/N?”

Arthur dropped his hands down and shrugged. “No idea. That’s what’s worryin’ me.”

Dutch walked over to the horse to inspect the saddle. He dug around in the saddlebag and found it full, and upon further inspection found your rifle and shotgun were still stowed.

“They wouldn’t just dismount without taking any of this.” Dutch concluded.

“You think something happened?” Arthur asked, a concerned look in his eyes.

“Y/N loves this horse. You really think they’d just up and leave him?” Dutch said. H/N was becoming restless again, trying to pull away from Arthur who was now holding his reigns.

“He’s trying to lead us somewhere.” Dutch said, making for his own horse. “Arthur, mount up on him! Let him take us wherever he wants us to go.”

Arthur nodded at the instruction, climbing up onto your horse. At the very least, Arthur was glad that Dutch wasn’t still angry at you seeing at how quickly he’d jumped into action at the very thought of you being in danger.

“Charles! We need an extra gun.” Dutch shouted back into camp.

Charles, who had been crouching by the fire, voiced his acknowledgement and whistled for his own horse.

Arthur gave H/N an encouraging pat and gentle prod with his spurs and he broke into a gallop down the path, Dutch and Charles following close behind.

The three had been riding for a couple of hours when, eventually, H/N came to a stop in the middle of a road, still seeming quite distressed.

Arthur shushed him, giving him a praising pat.  “Good boy.”

Dutch dismounted The Count, followed swiftly by Arthur and Charles.

“Look around for any clues that could tell us what happened.” Dutch instructed, and the three began scouting the immediate area.

Arthur knelt a few feet from where they’d stopped, inspecting something in the dirt.

“Blood.” He said, running his finger along the dirt. “There was some kinda struggle here, for sure.”

“There’s tracks, here. Look.” Charles said, beckoning them over to him. “Not fresh, but they lead off road.”

Dutch mounted back up on his horse without a second thought. “Let’s go.”

The three made off in the direction of the tracks, with Charles leading the way. They rode a short while, coming to the edge of a forest. Charles held up his hand as a signal to stop.

“Voices. Through the trees.” He said quietly. “Leave the horses here, we should go forward on foot.”

“Do we gotta keep doin' this? Where's Van Der Linde’s fucking money?”

The O'Driscoll doing the interrogating was using both hands to hold you roughly by the collar of your shirt, now stained with your own blood. Your hands were tied above your head with coarse rope to a makeshift hook on the ceiling, your feet barely brushing the ground. Your face was painted with bruises and your lip split and bleeding. They’d kicked you in the shins, punched you in the stomach, and hadn’t given up with their assault just yet.

You lifted your beaten face and stared him down.

“Up your fucking ass.”

Another hard swing to your face sent you reeling backwards. You’d held it reasonably together so far, but you were starting to break. The pain was starting to get to you.

“Fuck, why did I get into that stupid argument and walk out...they’re never going to come and find me. I’m going to die in this fucking cellar.”

Your thoughts raced around like untamed horses, but you were brought sharply back to reality when the O'Driscoll brandished a knife in front of your face.

“I’d say I was hopin’ it wouldn’t come to this, but to be honest...I was really hopin' it would.” He grinned.

You just stared him down, trying to hide the fact that your heart was beating out of your chest.

“So, where’s the money.” He asked once more, holding the knife firmly against your cheek. You didn’t say anything, just glared at him.

“Fine.” He said, and pulled the knife sharply across your cheek. You bit down on your tongue but a strangled noise of pain still escaped you. Blood ran freely down your face from the fresh cut.

The O'Driscoll grabbed your throat, his patience clearly wavering. “Tell me where the fucking money is you little piece of shit.”

“You’re...just gonna...have to kill me...” you said, voice slightly strained from the grip he had around your neck.

“Oh but I’m just starting to have fun.” He said darkly.

You didn’t know how much longer you could last. You were hurting everywhere, all you wanted to do was sleep. The O'Driscoll had dropped to his knees in front of you and lifted your shirt up enough to expose part of your stomach.

“Seeing as you’re so loyal to that bastard...” he said, with a small, sinister laugh. 

The moment the knife broke your skin, you let out a wail. You tried to pull away but your bonds denied you any such movement. He carved into your stomach and finally you broke, unable to hold back your screams of agony any longer. The O’Driscoll paused for a moment and you distantly heard the word that fell from your lips.

“Please...” you said weakly. Tears were falling down your cheeks now, mixing with the blood, and sweat glistened on your forehead.

He said nothing but was revelling in your beg for relief. Still, he returned his knife to your skin. You wailed, thrashing in your bonds until you thought you might pass out.

“There.” He stood, admiring his handiwork. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look down as he held up your shirt. On your stomach, he’d crudely carved the letters “D.V.D.L”.

“Now...” he stood inches from you, locking eyes with yours. You were pale and drenched in sweat, tears and blood. It was a marvel you were still conscious. “Last chance.”

You didn’t even have the time to think of an answer before you were interrupted with gunfire and raised voices from outside.

“What the fuck?” your torturer muttered, going across to the door. Before his hand touched the doorknob, it was kicked open and he stumbled backwards. You squinted towards the door, trying to see who it was through your bleary vision.

The sound of a gunshot filled the small room, and the O'Driscoll fell in a heap to the floor.

“Goddamn asshole.”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“A-Arthur...?” you said in a strained voice.

He crossed the room and immediately pulled out his knife to cut you free, moving to step behind you.

“Thank Christ you ain’t dead.” Arthur said. “It’s me, darlin', you’re ok...and Charles, and...”

“Y/N.“ Dutch stepped over the dead O'Driscoll on the floor, making his way over to you as Arthur got started on cutting through the ropes holding your wrists. “Thank god you’re alive.”

He stopped in front of you, and his brow creased as he took in your ragged appearance. “What did they do to you...”

“D-Dutch...I'm s-so sorry, I-I....” you stammered, fresh tears (of relief, mostly) falling down your cheeks. Dutch shushed you, gently taking your face in his hands whilst being wary of the cut on your left cheek.

“Its all right. You’re alive, that’s all that matters.” He said, wiping away your tears and trying not to disturb any of the abrasions on your face.

Arthur finally cut through the ropes around your wrists and you fell into Dutch, your legs refusing to work. He caught you, quickly sliding one arm under your legs to carry you.

Charles met them as they left the O'Driscoll's cabin, a look of relief crossing his face when he saw you were alive.

“Place is clear, from what I can see.” He said. “I got the horses, too.”

You were ready to pass out, your head resting against Dutch's shoulder as he carried you across to your horse where Arthur had already mounted up.

“You take her-“ Dutch said, and Arthur leaned down to help lift you up, sitting you in front of him.

“I’ll scout around and make sure there’s no more nearby. See you back at camp.” Charles said, mounting up on his own horse.

Arthur mumbled a farewell before following Dutch back to Shady Belle. On the way back he made sure to speak to you, trying to keep you awake. It was a long ride back to camp, and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. Not trusting yourself enough to stay upright, you leaned back into Arthur, your head falling against his shoulder. He secured an arm around you to hold you against him, trying his best to not disturb any injuries he couldn’t see.

“Nearly there, sweetheart.” Arthur mumbled to you eventually.

Upon arrival to the camp, as the horse came to a halt, you became incredibly dizzy. You just about could make out Arthur's voice.

“Shit, Y/N’s passin' out. HEY! WE NEED HELP OVER HERE!”

You blacked out for a little while, only to blearily regain consciousness some time later. You were being carried somewhere. Was that Dutch's voice?

“Lay them down – careful!”

You looked worse now. Or maybe Arthur just hadn’t had a proper look of you in that cabin. Miss Grimshaw turned up at your tent with a box of medical supplies and a bowl of water, placing them on the table next to the bed.

“They do look in a bad way.” she said, kneeling beside Arthur who was beginning to look you over. Normally, Arthur wouldn’t have anything to do with this and just leave Miss Grimshaw to her work (as she is very good at it) but with you, it was different. He didn’t want to leave your side.

Dutch, meanwhile, stood watching from behind. Arthur was rummaging around in the box, pulling out some rags and soaking them in the water.

“Nothin’ too serious, I think. They beat ‘em half to hell, the bastards, but at least they didn’t kill ‘em.” He said, pressing the cloth to your forehead and making a start on washing away the blood and dirt on your face.

A blood stain on the lower half of your shirt caught Dutch's eye. “Wait – under their shirt there.”

Arthur carefully lifted your shirt up, feeling the damp material peeling away from your skin. His breath caught as he saw the cause of the blood. Dutch's hands curled into tight fists at the sight of his own initials carved into your skin.

“Shit...” Arthur muttered.

“Sick bastards!” Miss Grimshaw exclaimed with a gasp.

“Colm will pay for this.” Dutch growled through gritted teeth. “Take care of Y/N...I’ll be...alone. I need some time to think.”

Arthur watched him leave before turning his attention back to you. He and Miss Grimshaw took care of your wounds fine, mostly it was scrapes and bruises, but just when they’d finish with one they’d find another. There were also the wounds they couldn’t see – the non-physical ones.

“Who knows what they put 'em through.” Arthur mumbled, watching as you slept. The peaceful expression on your face calmed him.

Miss Grimshaw had just finished dressing the cut on your cheek and was putting the medical supplies back into the box. “They’ll be just be fine, they’re tough. Get that from you.”

Arthur nodded with a small smile at her comment, letting his hand briefly rest over yours.

“We should let them rest. You should get some sleep too, Arthur.”

“Yeah.” Arthur cleared his throat and stood, looking down at you. Miss Grimshaw seemed to sense his worry and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“They’ll be awake in a few hours. You need sleep, Mr Morgan.” She said, in a firm but caring manner.

“Yeah, I know. You're right.”

She left, but before Arthur did the same, he lightly brushed the back of his fingers across your cheek and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You didn’t stir as he left. He glanced back at you once more before letting the tent flap fall shut. 

The next time you woke, it was early in the morning. The flaps of your tent were blowing gently in the breeze and the light poking through the cracks was that of a sun which had only just risen. Outside was quiet, except for some birds singing in the trees. You felt disorientated and confused at first, as you opened your eyes. You were back in your tent in camp. You remembered Arthur and Dutch rescuing you....Dutch. That would be an interesting conversation to have later.

You had no memory of how you got back, so assumed you’d been unconscious for most of it. The more you woke up, the more you became aware of your injuries. You shifted slightly in your bed and winced at a dull pain from near your waist. You moved your hand over the area, sliding it under your shirt (finding that your wrists were sore in the process) and felt bandages beneath your fingertips. Memory of the O'Driscoll carving into your skin flashed in your mind and you squeezed your eyes shut, letting your hand drop back down to your side. You tried to sit up but immediately regretted it, groaning as your head throbbed and every other part of your body seemed to ache at the movement.

“Careful.” A voice from the doorway startled you and you snapped your head to the side. The light outside made it hard to see who your visitor was, but you would recognise that voice anywhere.

“Dutch.” You said weakly, your head dropping back down to your pillow. In that moment a million thoughts flooded your head. Was he still angry with you? You were half expecting a rant from him. However the warm smile he gave you as he stepped inside told you otherwise. Seeing you still halfway to a sitting position, he crossed the expanse of your tent and slipped his arm beneath your shoulders to help you sit up, propping up your pillow with his other hand. You mumbled a thanks as he pulled a chair up to your bedside.

“How you doing?” he asked.

“I’m ok.” You said quietly, squinting up at him as your eyes got used to the light. He looked tired, you noticed. “How long was I out?”

Dutch pulled out his pocket watch and examined it. “Nearly 14 hours now.”

Your eyes widened.

“No wonder I feel like shit...” you mumbled.

Dutch emitted a quiet laugh, though when he next spoke there was a hint of something in his voice – perhaps anger, at the people who hurt you. “Well, that and being beaten half to death.”

You looked over at him. “Did you-?”

He cut you off. “They’re dead.”

You looked up to the roof of your tent, muttering a quiet; “Good.”

You sighed quietly, unable to bear the silence even for a few moments.  You had too much on your mind. “Listen, Dutch, I-“

He waved his hand to stop you, clearly already knowing what you were going to say, but you didn’t let him stop you.

“No, I need to say this.” You said firmly and, in a manner quite unlike himself, Dutch sat back in his chair and went silent.

Why were you suddenly so nervous about saying this? Maybe it had something to do with the intimacy of the situation. Dutch was rather an intimidating person, after all. Not that you were scared of him, of course, he just had a very particular aura about him. And maybe it also had something to do with the fact that you looked up to him and respected him and the very last thing you’d ever want to do was upset him or let him down.

You took a deep, shaky breath before speaking, trying to recall all the time you’d spent in that cellar figuring out what you’d say to Dutch if you ever got out of it alive.

“I…I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it, I was just…” You sighed, looking down at your clasped hands in your lap. “I got angry an’ upset and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat and your voice threatened to break as you spoke.

“What I said, ‘bout wishing you had never found me and taken me in…it wasn’t true, any of it. This gang’s best thing that’s happened to me, Dutch.”

If you’d looked up then, you’d have seen Dutch’s furrowed brow as he listened intently, and the smile on his face from your confession. He reached out and covered both your hands with one of his, catching your eye.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you to leave, I…” He shook his head and looked down briefly. “Honestly, I regretted it as soon as I said it but, well, perhaps my pride got the better of me. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You blinked at him, surprised by what he’d said. He didn’t exactly say “I was wrong” (that’d be the day), but it was close enough.

“If I hadn’t lost my temper in the first place then none of this would have ever happened to you.” He had the sincerest look in his eyes that you’d ever seen as he looked down to where his hand covered yours, lightly brushing his fingers over the bandages that were covering the nasty rope burns on your wrists.

“I am sorry, Y/N.”

Perhaps you’d misheard him, but it sounded like his voice wavered and your heart broke at the sound of it.

“This ain’t your fault.” You squeezed his hand to reaffirm your statement. “You had no idea this was gonna happen, Dutch. Please don’t blame yourself.”

He nodded.

“I know, I know…you’re right. As usual.” He added with a small smile. You leaned across, only getting halfway towards him before your injuries protested at the movement. You stifled a small groan.

“Look, would ya’ get over here so I can hug you.” You said, irritated at your immobility.

Dutch chuckled, obliging your request and shuffling forwards in his seat enough to embrace you in a half hug so as not to accidentally hurt you. One of your arms wound around his shoulders and you buried your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent and soaking in his warmth. He brought one hand up to brush through your hair and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Can you promise me somethin’?” You mumbled into his shirt. He pulled back to look at you, bringing his hand to your cheek.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Go get some sleep.” You said with a smile. He laughed.

“Alright. I promise.”

[arthurmorganismaboah]

Outlaws Never Die- Chapter 3- leaving Colter.

_________________________________

You arrived back to camp and relieved your horse from the heavy load stowed on his back and delivered it to Pearson, you noticed Arthur’s horse hitched nearby and your heart jumped. Almost running through the snow, you looked in the window of john’s cabin. His family was surrounding him, he had an awful looking wound on his face, of what resembled a claw, but he was alive and that was all that mattered. Everyone has lived another day. Smiling to yourself and walking towards Arthurs cabin. You went to see if he was okay.

“Hey, Arthur.”

You stood with your eyes huge, you should have knocked on the door! Arthur was standing with his shirt open; blood pooled and dripping a little over his chest. Although he was hurt you couldn’t help but stand and stare at the toned male in front of you, little hair over his chest, bruises and previous scars from other difficulties he had faced. For someone that didn’t eat much, he was in great shape, his body in perfect proportion.

“I... I’m sorry, I should have knocked.”

“Come in, Y/N. Please close the door behind you though, you’re letting out all of the warm air.” Arthur finished patching himself up with what little supplies he had left before buttoning up his shirt and putting his coat back on.

“Are you okay? I noticed the blood.” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look at him, you could feel your face flush, you knew it was red without even looking at yourself, the pit of your stomach in knots, butterflies swimming within you.

“I’m fine, Y/N. John ran into trouble up the hill, wolves killed his horse and attacked him. You seen his face? I’d say its an improvement but he’s going to live.” Arthur chuckled to himself, finding his own witty comments amusing. You smiled looking at him “Seems the wolves like me too, they came running once we found him. I had to steer them away. I got caught out a bit, but no damage done, not really.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” you looked at him with sincerity. You both stood and looked at each other for a few seconds, taking in every detail you could see of each other. Dark bags under his eyes where he has hardly slept, his lips still chapped and his face a shade of pink. You didn’t know if he was blushing or if it was just from the weather.

“We will be moving soon, you should probably start packing up, Hosea reckons there’s a place we can hold up for a while, somewhere much warmer than here that’s for sure!” Arthur was packing cans and supplies into his satchel that had also been upgraded and patched up by Pearson. “were moving early morning, so only one more night in this cold.” He stopped and looked to the floor for a second seeing the two deer pelts still on the floor where you both slept last night. “I saw you got two deer earlier, well done Y/N. they look perfect. Clean shots. Where did you learn to do that?”

You sighed and Arthur looked concerned feeling like he had hit a nerve.

“My dad taught me years ago, he must have known I would need the skill in the future and he was right, though he didn’t teach me to track very well.” You smiled and looked to the floor thinking about your old family. They had all died when you were only 15. Your father had got in a lot of trouble and owed people a lot of money. When he needed to pay that money back and couldn’t, they murdered your whole family, except you, they would have if you were there in that house, but you weren’t. You were out robbing people for that money that your family needed so badly before the debt collectors came, but you were too late, you were always too late. Although it wasn’t your fault, you blamed yourself and couldn’t rid that guilt. A stray tear fell down your cheek and Arthur wrapped his arms around you. You were shocked and tensed up but soon relaxed in his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“I shouldn’t have asked, Y/N. I’m really sorry.” He rubbed his hands against your back. The feelings you were having were confusing. Of course, you had hugged people before, but this was so different. It was such a safe feeling, almost a fuzzy feeling in your chest, contentment and even though you were hurting thinking about your old family you felt comfort in his arms, like he could make even the darkest of times better.

“It’s the past, you just have to move on, right? Everything happens for a reason, I wouldn’t have found this group otherwise, I would have never met... you.” You looked up at Arthur, both of your chests touching “Good things always come out of bad and I just have to keep on believing that.” You wanted nothing more than to kiss him right there and then, tell him how you were feeling, how these emotions were taking control, but he pulled away and you felt a little hurt by it.

“We should get something to eat before packing the remaining stuff into the wagons” he held his arm, almost as though he was trying to hug himself.

“Yeah. We should.” You walked out first, not looking back at Arthur. You had embarrassed yourself. Of course, he could feel your heart racing in your chest, of course he could hear your breathing fast paced. If you could melt away and disappear, you would right in that moment. Watching everyone happy, sitting in a big circle in a cabin with a roaring fire and stew you could forget about it for a little while. You decided to sit near the girls and as far away from Arthur as possible.

***

“oh, stop complaining, John. You got yourself in this mess.” Dutch was lifting a cot with the help of Micah with an injured John wrapped up in bundles of blankets onto the last wagon. Everything was set and you were finally going to get out of Colter. Climbing onto the front of a wagon you were greeted by the one person you didn’t want to be with right this second.

“Arthur.” You smiled awkwardly and looked at the other wagons starting to move. Hosea was sitting in the back making sure to keep an eye on the supplies, make sure nothing fell off on your journey.

 "Y/N." Arthur smiles, nothing off about him, it was as though the night before didn't happen, or maybe it didn't happen as you thought it did. Maybe you were just thinking over things too much like you usually do. "Did you sleep okay?" he wasn't looking at you, instead he was focusing on the trail ahead of him making sure not to hit any rocks that could potentially make our couple hour journey multiply by much more.

“I slept quite well, all things considering.” You smiled as you started to get warm, being out of the snow was definitely a big difference. The colours of the trees, the grass, the flowers, there were so many colours, not just the same old white that you have been looking at for days. “its lovely here.” You took off your coat and leaned back with your eyes closed. Your plaid shirt hugging your feminine frame, the top button undone exposing the tiniest bit of your chest. Taking in the warmth of the sun, the breeze that was cool but not cold like the snow had been. Arthur smiled watching you, something stirring inside him, taking his eyes off the trail for a second before he caught on to what he was doing and quickly looked back towards the trail.

“It’s been ages since I last saw you without a coat.” Hosea looked at Arthur and then put his head in his hand and shook his head. Arthur cleared his throat realising how silly he had sounded. He never was the smoothest of talkers.

You were getting closer to the destination and you felt like this was the place, this was the place we could build up camp and stay for a while without worrying about moving so quickly.

 “Here we are, Horseshoe Outlook!” Dutch called out so everyone could hear. “Everyone unpack, get camp set up, Pearson, get some stew on. Y/N, Arthur, head into Valentine and see what’s here for us. Were home folks, lets settle in!”

You looked to Arthur and sighed, “Guess we don’t get time to settle in just yet!”

“Nope.”

You both got off the wagon and trailed to your horses, “let’s head out, you ready, Arthur?”

“sure, Y/N.”

[albrtmason]

would you share some hosea headcanons you have? i’d live to hear them! i agree fandom tends to ignore him.

this is mostly backstory because thats the person i am and i like thinking of things as a Story. these also arent super polished because i havent had the time recently to put proper research into them!!! and this got a LOT longer than i intended so im putting it under a cut haha 

so hosea was born in the early to mid 1840s (1843?) in the allegheny mountains in what is now west virginia (would have just been virginia then, wv didnt exist until 63). he grew up in a small community, largely agricultural, and like most people in appalachia at the time, his family were subsistence farmers. he had his mom and his dad and two younger sisters.

his dad was in and out of his life from the beginning, especially into his teenage years. but its also through him that hosea really got his first taste of what it was like to be an outlaw: his dad was a moonshiner, and eventually hosea started helping him run it (but not distill it). what money his father didn’t gamble away or spend in brothels helped to support the family, which was more than others in the community could say.

(his father of course did a lot more than just run moonshine, and hosea knew that, but he never got involved

when hosea was around 15 or 16 (so mid to late 1850s) his dad was arrested and, his mother having passed away a year or two before, his sisters were sent east to live with a distant aunt. (they kept contact for a while, sending letters, but communication trickled to an end when hosea was in his early 20s and he never heard from either of them again) hosea was considered old enough to fend for himself so he gathered up the little money he had left and whatever could be sold and he headed west for lack of anywhere else to go. initially he had wanted to get enough money to buy a place for him and his sisters to live, but that plan fell through pretty quick

(he knew from his time running ‘shine that the best way to get money wasn’t ever through honest work but rather under-the-table sort of work, the type of work that wasn’t strictly above-board, the type of work where he could do what he wanted whatever way that he wanted)

and he just kept going west, bouncing from town to town to town. he started out running moonshine because that’s what he knew best but he eventually moved on to pick pocketing, petty theft, eventually armed robbery and hitting people’s homes. he preferred conning people though, cheating at cards or rigging roulette, being friendly and silver-tongued enough to get a man blind drunk and rob him of all he had and be long, long gone by the time he sobered up

we know of course that he met dutch in the mid 1870s (i feel like there’s a specific date but i cant remember it rn and im too lazy to look) when they both tried to rob each other, so he would have been in his very late 20s or early 30s by that point, and decently comfortable in the life he’d built for himself. he never really had a specific goal that he worked towards, no plan for the future or anything; he was just living for the present, or whatever. dutch changed that, eventually

(you could put all sorts of vandermatthews stuff here if you wanted and maybe i’ll talk about it in another post but right now i won’t)

he met bessie a while after he met dutch cus they stuck around in one place a lot longer than they usually would, around a year or so, and he took to her almost immediately. she wasn’t astonishingly pretty or anything- was just average, really- but she was well-read and thoughtful and horribly witty and hosea was terribly in love with her. he proposed just before he and dutch skipped town and they got married.

i like to think that bessie ran around with them without actually committing any crimes herself. hosea had been very upfront with her about who he was and what he did once they started a romantic relationship. and it was good like that, for a few years; she and susan kept he and dutch in line and it worked. but eventually i think bessie would have gotten tired of being so transient; i think she would have wanted to settle, to have a family, to be normal. and i think on some level that hosea wanted that, too.

in 1878 or thereabouts they picked up arthur and hosea really threw himself into trying to help him, because while dutch may have seen something of himself in arthur, hosea DEFINITELY did: he saw a kid who’d lost both of his parents and his home, not by choice, trying to make it in the world, just trying to survive. and while years of crime had made hosea rougher, sharper, more sly and less remorseful, he’d never really lost his sense of empathy. i think that dutch liked arthur well enough when they first picked him up, but it’s hosea that really insisted on keeping him around

so hosea became a sort of mentor (and father figure, i guess, moreso than dutch was) to arthur, and along with dutch taught him how to read and write and draw (though hosea was more lettered, and dutch more artistically-inclined). they taught him how to shoot and ride a horse and how to rob and kill. i think at times, especially towards the beginning, hosea would feel a bit guilty about dragging a kid into that sort of life, but then he’d tell himself that arthur would have fallen into it anyway, and with worse people than he and dutch

eventually bessie wanted to settle and put down roots and live, and a part of hosea did as well, so they left the gang for a bit to try and make it work. but hosea didn’t really know any other life than being a criminal; he was smart, he was clever and deft-fingered and a quick learner, but he wasn’t a tradesman and i think he would have started to chafe at the constancy of it all, and so he went back to the gang because being a criminal was all he really knew

like he said in the game, bessie understood. she knew what he was, who he was- she knew him. and he loved her, loved her as much as someone like him could; they tried to make their marriage work, with him gone all the time, and he really hated how it sort of echoed his parents because a part of him had hated his father, hated him for how sad his mother looked all the time, how she’d occasionally sigh and stare out the window like she was waiting for something. he didn’t want to do that to bessie, didn’t want to become like his dad

occasionally he’d split off from the gang and go and see her, often for some weeks, maybe a month, before returning. she was always happy to see him and she never complained but he always felt just a little bit guilty, even though they wrote letters to each other as often as they could. eventually though bessie got sick, real sick, and he spent three months away to be with her, to love her and take care of her the best he could, and to pray she would get better. she didn’t, though, and so he’d had to bury his wife, and like he says in some camp dialogue he spent the next year or so drinking heavily, enough that he was rarely sober and pretty much drunk all the time

john was the apple of dutch’s eye when he was brought to them and while hosea did the same as he did with arthur- taught him to read and write, and other things- it was mostly dutch who took over john’s “”education””. hosea was okay with that; him and arthur started running a few jobs together, just the two of them

as the gang itself grew hosea sort of asserted himself as dutch’s right hand man, if not almost an equal in leadership. he was more analytical and calculating than dutch, and he brought sense to dutch’s passion, taking his ideas and making them into something workable. and that was good, for a while; they worked well together, and by this point hosea was swept up in dutch’s ideas of striking out and making a home for themselves (though the was obviously still a bit cynical about it, as we can see in-game)

he was the only one really able to truly temper dutch, and the only one that dutch would really listen to criticism from, so he also sort of became an intermediary between dutch and the rest of the gang, where they would come to him with their problems and he’d pass them on to dutch and so on and so forth. that started to change though, little by little, and hosea knew that his friend was slipping away and there was not really anything he could do about it except be there to try and play damage control.

things never really got better but they sort of plateaued for a bit in a place where the gang was still safe and hosea was content enough with their position there, with the way dutch’s mind worked, but micah’s arrival really exacerbated dutch’s downward spiral because micah really enabled dutch’s passions and, well, dutch’s ego had always been his fatal flaw, and micah stoked that and kept doing so until eventually everything just fell apart

[krycss]

Crossroads | oc:Alice Harkins/Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith

Ch4: Horseshoe Overlook (Part 2)

[Read on AO3]

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So this is the first time I'm trying out different POVs in a fic. I think it turned out okay, the way it works for me is if there's a solid spacing between paragraphs (******) then the name in the first sentence of the next paragraph is who's POV we're shifting to. Let me know if it works out for ya'll!

Arthur was currently enjoying a rather calm afternoon. It had been a few days since Sean had returned and the camp was certainly livelier with his presence. Arthur couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. Kieran had been allowed freedom from his shackles after saving Arthur’s life from an O’Driscoll the other day. They still kept an eye on him though as he watched over the horses.

Dutch called his attention and Arthur headed over to greet him.

“Dutch,” He nodded his head. “Miss O’Shea.”

“Well,” Dutch stood. “It feels like we are finally getting back on our feet.”

“You find a buyer for them bonds we stole?”

“Not yet, but Hosea’s working on it.”

The two stood side-by-side, overlooking the camp.

“When we heading west?” Arthur looked over at Dutch, hopeful.

“Soon,” Dutch shook his head, going to sit in his chair. “I don’t know.”

Arthur sighed, leaning against the pole of Dutch’s tent. “Feels like things have changed. The whole world has changed. That they don’t want folk like us no more.” Arthur’s jaw clenched. “We’re being hunted.”

“We’re smarter than them.” Dutch looked up at Arthur. “Only the feeblest of men take jobs in the government.”

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “I hope so!”

“Trust Dutch, Mr. Morgan.” Molly’s spoke up from behind them. “You ‘ave to.”

Suddenly there was shout from across the camp from Lenny.

“They got Micah!” Lenny was still jumping off of his saddle as he called out. “Dutch! Arthur!”

The two walked towards him as he ran in their direction.

“What’s going on?” Dutch asked.

“They got Micah.” Lenny repeated. “He-he’s been arrested for murder. He was in Strawberry and…”

Dutch interjected. “It’s okay, son. Breathe!”

Lenny nodded, taking in gulps of air as he braced himself on his knees. “They nearly lynched me. They-” He took one last deep breath before standing up once more, speaking calmly. “They got Micah in the sheriff’s in Strawberry, and there’s talk of hanging him.”

Arthur smiled to himself. “Here’s hoping.”

“Arthur!” Dutch quickly looked over, reprimanding him.

“What? That fool brought this on himself. You know my feelings about him, Dutch.”

“You think I can’t see past his bluster to the heart inside?���

Arthur shook his head.

“He’s a fine man.” Dutch continued.

“No,” Arthur stared down Dutch. “I ain’t saving that fool.”

“I can’t go. My face will be all over West Elizabeth! I am asking.” Dutch paused. “He would do it for you.”

Arthur waved his hand at Dutch. “I don’t think he would, but fine, alright.”

“Arthur…” Dutch continued to stare at him as Arthur ignored him.

“You okay, Lenny?” Arthur turned his attention to the boy who was currently catching his breath at the table nearby.

“Yeah, course I’m okay.” Lenny’s face spoke otherwise.

“You don’t seem okay.”

“You take that kid into town.” Dutch called out as he walked back to his tent. “Valentine, not Strawberry. Get him drunk. And Arthur? No crazy business.”

Arthur scoffed. “I’ve given that up.”

“And you get Micah out of that jail.” Dutch reminded Arthur, causing him to sigh.

“Come on, son.” Arthur waved towards Lenny.

Arthur and Lenny were headed towards their horses when they heard a voice call out from behind them.

“Couldn’t help but hear you’re heading into town?” Alice ran up to Arthur.

Arthur nodded, smiling down at her. “Gonna give Lenny here a good time at the saloon!” He clapped the kid on the back, earning a huff of annoyance.

“Can I come?” Alice pleaded. “If I have to drink any more of that shit from Sean’s party I’m gonna go insane!”

“The more the merrier!” Lenny called from his horse.

Arthur shook his head. “Alright, come on.” Arthur helped her up onto the back of his horse before joining her. “But remember, we’re getting Lenny drunk. We’re the responsible adults here.”

  Arthur wasn’t sure where things had gone wrong. What was supposed to be just one or two drinks ended up being…he wasn’t even sure anymore. There were bottles of beer, whiskey shots, and mugs of beer all floating through his memories. Lenny had disappeared somewhere. Alice too. Arthur called out for both of them, stumbling his way up to the second floor of the saloon. He heard Alice’s laugh from the other side and spotted the pair. Lenny was currently balancing a shot glass on his forehead much to Alice’s delight. Arthur called out to them, causing Lenny to lose his balance and shatter the glass on the floor below. All three waved down at the bartender who glared up at them.

Alice had somehow found the three of them more beers and they went to town, laughing away. Arthur knew he should stop but that part of his brain wasn’t working it seemed.

Lenny suddenly got quiet. “Why ain’t you never married?” His gaze was towards Arthur but his eyes weren’t exactly focused on him.

Arthur sobered up for just a second.

“No one would have me.” Arthur lamented.

Alice was slapping his arm then, drawing his attention to her.

“I-” She hiccupped. “I’d have ya, Arthur!” She leaned into his side. “Dunno how you ain’t known that!”

Arthur knew she had to have drank far too much. If she had been keeping up with him, then her small size alone had caused her to get drunker faster and to say such silly things. The drink must have gone straight to her brain. He felt a smile form on his face and was drawn from his thoughts by Lenny cracking another joke.

  Arthur found himself outside, pissing against the saloon wall. He didn’t remember going outside, and yet here he was. He vaguely recalled starting a chorus line in the saloon. He headed back inside, stumbling along. He was once again in search of his drinking partners. A voice in his head telling him he should probably stop for the night. He spotted Alice hanging around the piano player, clapping along to the song. Lenny showed up at some point and he and Lenny started a slap-fight, he wasn’t quite sure why. The three eventually found themselves out in the street, laughing away. Lenny was making a mess of himself, causing Alice and Arthur to walk away laughing and trying not to fall over. The shouts from the local Sheriff were suddenly heard and Arthur grabbed Alice’s hand, dragging her off into an alley. The two were a mess, stumbling over barrels, crates, and each other. They rounded the back of the saloon but were caught when Arthur tripped over a fence, causing the two of them to fall to the ground.

  Waking up in the jail cell was not the best experience. The three managed to pay their way out for a fee of $15, and were currently trying to make their way to their horses. Lenny had thrown up again, causing Alice to as well. Arthur held her hair back for her, it had somehow come down from its bun at some point during their adventure.

“Arthur.” Alice groaned. “I think I’m dyin’.” She fell back on her ass.

Arthur sat down next to her, Lenny had wandered off somewhere and Arthur didn’t have the energy to go looking for him.

“You’re fine.” Arthur rubbed his eyes. “We gotta get back to camp. Oh,” He grunted as he stood. “We need some food and sleep.”

The two somehow managed to make it back to camp. They ignored the comments from people in camp. Hosea had come over to berate them but gave them each a cup of coffee to help. It was still early in the morning but the two of them went straight to their tents after eating whatever leftovers Pearson had available.

  Arthur woke the next morning with a pounding headache. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d drank this much, granted he tried not to do it as much anymore as he got older, so he at least wasn’t feeling the effects as badly as he could. He sat up in his cot, stretching out his body which cracked in protest. The camp was quiet as only a few people woke at the same time he did. Lenny was currently face-first into his bedroll, a bucket nearby. He saw Charles drinking a cup of coffee on the other side of camp and Hosea joined him soon enough. Arthur went to grab his own before he got started on the camp chores for the day.

By the time he was done it was still rather early. He knew the Reverend was still out and about somewhere nearby and Arthur had agreed to see what he was getting up to. Anything to delay his having to rescue Micah. On his way back to his tent he saw that the front of Alice’s tent had been opened and she was currently sitting on the end of her bedroll with her head in her hands. He vaguely recalled her comment from last night in the saloon and his face flushed.

‘I’d have ya Arthur.’ He remembered. Surely she didn’t mean it.

He walked over to her.

“How ya feelin’?” Arthur chuckled as he looked down at her.

“I hate everything.” Alice moaned. “God, please tell me I didn’t embarrass myself. Remind me never to drink with you and Lenny again! Or just, never to drink again in general.”

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “Will do, Shortcake. You, uh, you remember anything that happened?”

Alice looked up at him, afraid. “What did I do…?”

So she didn’t remember. Arthur wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. He had hoped to ask her about it.

“Nothin’ too serious, just seeing what you remember is all.”

Alice nodded slowly, mumbling about needing five more minutes.

As he walked away he saw her fall back onto the bed roll with an exaggerated sigh, causing him to smile.

   A few hours later Arthur returned with Reverend Swanson in tow and an attitude. Having to save the man from nearly getting killed by a train which, incidentally, meant he too almost got killed by said train, was not a great way to begin the afternoon. Adding to the fact that once he dropped the man off back in his tent, Miss Grimshaw had told him a letter had arrived for him.

From Mary.

So here Arthur sat in his tent, reading the letter for the second time since opening it. His heart was currently in a confused state – torn between the hope of seeing her once more and the reminder that she had broken his it. Arthur sighed.

“Must be a hell of a letter for you to make that sound.” He didn’t know how long Alice had been leaning against the pole of his tent.

Arthur closed his eyes, nodding slowly. “Yeah.” He glanced up at her but found he couldn’t quite hold her gaze. “It’s from Mary.”

Alice was silent. If he hadn’t still been able to see her out of the corner of his eye he may have thought she had left. When he looked up at her he saw her picking at her nails, her eyebrows drawn together.

“What’s she want?” Her voice was quiet.

“Not sure exactly. Wants me to meet her near Valentine.”

“You gonna go?”

A beat of silence.

“Most likely.”

Alice scoffed. It was quiet but Arthur heard it nonetheless.

“What?” He folded the letter and stood.

“Nothin’.” Alice avoided looking at him and crossed her arms.

“Alice.” His voice sterner than he’d have liked.

She looked up at him this time and his steps faulted for just a second. She didn’t seem angry, but she was definitely upset. Jealous? He thought back to her comment once more, perhaps she really did care for him. That’s crazy though.

“After what she did to you, you’re gonna go see her again?” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Arthur, I was there when she left you, I saw how much that hurt you – how much it still hurts you! And you’re gonna put yourself through that again?!”

“She needs help, Alice.” Arthur grabbed his hat from his table. “Now, whether or not I am in relation with Mary doesn’t change the fact that if she needs help, I’m going to help her. I can’t just turn a blind eye to someone in need.”

“You’ve done it before.” Alice mumbled.

Arthur took a deep breath. He didn’t want to argue with Alice. He also knew she meant well. If he met with Mary he’d just be torturing himself once more. He knows that. But Mary always knew just how to play his heart. He knows that as well. He inwardly cursed his principles. He couldn’t just turn a blind eye to a woman in need – he’d help even if it wasn’t Mary. He had appreciated Alice’s care back when Mary had first left him. She had kept him from going under, truly. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he’d still be alive if it wasn’t for her. He hadn’t told her about how, despite her help, he had still turned to a more carnal form of relief from the heartbreak which led to the situation with Eliza. He still hadn’t told her about that to this day. He was thankful that she cared enough to voice her concerns, but he didn’t understand why she couldn’t see it from his point of view.

He stepped towards her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She stared up at him, her sky blue eyes glossy. He didn’t know what to say to her so he just gave her a sad smile before putting on his hat and stepping past her.

“You know it ain’t gonna lead to her takin’ you back. No matter how many times you come to her aid.” He heard her whisper behind him.

Arthur stopped for a moment, shaking his head before continuing to his horse.

‘I know.’

  ******

  Alice was currently seated by the scout fire. She was set to go on watch in a few hours and was enjoying her time alone. She was still trying to calm herself down from her interaction with Arthur earlier. It had been a few hours since he had left and he had yet to return. She tried not to think about what might be going on.

She just didn’t get it. What was so great about Mary that after all these years he still came to her beck and call when she gives him the slightest attention. It’s been years since they heard anything from her and now suddenly she’s in Valentine?! Alice threw a stick into the fire a little too hard.

“He’s a fool is what he is.” She mumbled to herself.

‘And so am I.’ Alice sighed, thinking.

She knew she was jealous. And she hated that her jealously caused her to lash out at him. It was the last thing she wanted but, she just couldn’t stop herself. Perhaps a part of her had hoped she could talk some sense into the man but, now that she thought about it that seemed a fruitless endeavor. Hell, she thought, the man still kept a photo of Mary in his tent!

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Charles heading towards her. She cursed herself for getting so riled out about Arthur. She had Charles now, right? She didn’t care what Arthur did anymore. He could be with whoever he wanted.

Her heart clenched.

Alice sighed. There was no point in lying to herself. She knew she’d never get over her feelings for Arthur. She didn’t know what it meant for her and Charles either, but she supposed she didn’t have to worry about it now. Clearly Arthur would never return her feelings.

Charles sat down on the ground next to her, the dirt kicking up around them for a moment. He didn’t say anything but she had a feeling he was going to ask her what had her in such a mood.

“You okay?” He placed a hand on her knee.

Alice shrugged.

“Overheard some people say some stuff about Arthur and some woman? Mary?”

Alice nodded.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “She’s…she was his fiancée. A long time ago. Long before you joined up. She broke his heart when she called it off. And yet there he goes off to answer her cry for help!” Alice let out a sharp laugh, throwing another small branch.

Charles hummed, his thumb rubbing small circles into her knee.

“I remember asking you if you and Arthur were together, back in Colter. You said no, but…you do care for him, don’t you.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but she could tell it was.

“Yes.” She looked down at Charles, her eyes wide. “I-I mean, I care about you too, Charles! I wasn’t lying about that!”

Charles simply chuckled, confusing Alice.

“It’s okay, Alice.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I know you do. And I also know you care for him as well. I think everyone does except him, honestly.” He shook his head with a smile. “You can’t control who you have feelings for.”

Alice smiled down at him. Honestly, he was too good sometimes.

“I just…” She leaned her head onto his shoulder. She didn’t know how to broach the subject without it seeming like she wanted Arthur instead of Charles. She hoped he understood what she was getting at. “I knew that I cared for him, right? But I suppose there was a part of me that knew that even if he ever returned my feelings, which I highly doubt now, I know that he’ll always still love Mary. Whether or not she’s physically in his life, she’ll always be there. I saw how much pain he was in when Mary ended things with him, I was there. So I just don’t understand why he’d do that to himself again.”

Alice tilted her head to kiss Charles’ shoulder before continuing.

“So, now that Mary seems to have come back into our lives, I guess I’m worried that I’ll end up losing him before I even had the chance to see if there was something TO lose.” She glanced up and their eyes locked. “I care about you both, you know.” She whispered and Alice’s stomach tightened at the confession she was about to make. “I care about you both so much and it’s all coming together and seemingly falling apart at the same time from two different sides of my heart and I don’t…I don’t quite know what to do.”

Charles hummed. “I don’t have the answers for you, but just know that I’ll be here whenever you need anything. Alright? I care about you and your feelings and I always want you to be able to open up to me about it.”

She felt him shift subtly, it felt like he was shaking his head at something. She had thought she heard footsteps and was thankful that Charles was kind enough to tell whoever it was to go away and give her some space.

Alice chuckled a bit. “I think that’s the most you’ve spoken in one sentence, Mr. Smith.” She felt his laugh as her head bobbed on his shoulder.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound was the crackling of the logs in the fire before them. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and whisper comforting words to her as she prepared for her watch shift to start.

  ******

  Arthur had just gotten back from clearing his mind from his afternoon. Seeing Mary again was…rough, to say the least. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she called him there not to help her personally, but to save her brother, Jamie. He knew she wrote him because he’d always answer her call. He knew. And yet he still found himself tending a pain in his chest after their goodbye at the train station.

‘You’ll never change.’ Her voice reverberated in his head.

He shook his head. She hadn’t seen him in how many years, and thinks he hasn’t changed from one meeting? He sighed. Not that she’d give him the time to prove it.

Arthur ran his hand through his hair as he walked away from his horse. He spotted Alice and Charles over by the scout camp and he wasn’t sure why but he was drawn to them. Perhaps to tell Alice she was right after all. As he got closer he could hear snippets of what Alice was talking about. Or rather, WHO she was talking about.

Him.

She was talking about him. He listened in from where he stood, trying not to make a sound. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop but he couldn’t stop now. Her voice was low but he picked up what he could and his heart skipped a beat.

“-Mary seems to have come back into our lives…end up losing him…chance to see if there was something TO lose.” She continued on about caring for both of them and her struggles in dealing with it.

He wished he was the one comforting her but he also knew that she was better off in Charles’ care. She probably didn’t even want to see him. His foot shifted and he caught Charles’ attention. The man shook his head, enough for Arthur to get the hint but not to let Alice know. Arthur nodded once and walked towards his tent.

He had some things to think about it seemed.

  Arthur woke at the crack of dawn once more. Today he was going to go and rescue Micah it seemed. The ride to Strawberry would at least provide the time needed to sort things out in his head.

Charles nodded at him from across the camp as Arthur was getting his coffee. He wasn’t sure what to make of it but returned the gesture nonetheless. He glanced over to Alice’s closed tent, hoping she’d slept well after being on watch last night. He sighed, dumping the rest of his coffee and headed towards his horse.

 The ride to Strawberry was both beautiful and boring at the same time, especially when travelling alone. Arthur wished he could spend it just admiring the views but his head was currently filled with thoughts running off a mile a minute. His first goal was to try and sort out his own feelings towards Alice before getting into the deeper thoughts.

When he had first met her all those years ago he was certainly intrigued by the fire-haired girl. He had figured out fairly early on that she was trying to con him, bless her. If he hadn’t already been living with a professional conman for the past twelve years then he may have fallen for it. Even to this day whenever she’d ask why he decided to introduce her to Dutch he still didn’t really have a reason. Just felt like she was what their small gang needed at the time.

For the first few years she was with them he took on the same role he did with John at the time – the older brother. She mostly learned from Hosea but when it came to learning to fire a gun or riding a horse properly, she learned from Arthur. She was a terrible student: liked sleeping in, was horrible at taking directions, talked far too much for Arthur’s liking, and was clumsy as all hell. But she was determined, and it was that determination that led to Arthur enjoying her company more than John’s if he was being honest. Even if she was sassy and didn’t listen to him half the time she never gave up on learning. She’d complain all throughout gun training but she never stopped showing up to practice. Even after being bucked off far too many horses and getting increasingly upset, she would just get back up – though, not without yelling at Arthur for a bit. Eventually she grew up and Arthur would admit that he’d found himself thinking about her every so often. Even when he was courting Mary. Alice was always there to be his confidant, his partner. So when Mary left him he was grateful for her presence in his life. He’d tried on multiple occasions to push her away when his emotions got the better of him, but she’d always be there when he needed her, even when he didn’t know it.

Arthur sighed, leaning down to run his hand along Crayola’s neck. He’d finally found a name for his American Paint. He thought it was rather funny since the company made paints. Alice had teased him about it when he first brought up the idea.

“I feel like you’re the only woman who doesn’t make my brain hurt, girl.” He whispered to his horse, chuckling to himself.

He sighed. He knew he was sweet on Alice. He knew, he just never wanted to admit it. But now that he knew how she felt about him? He was mostly upset that he had waited so long to act on those feelings. He had been afraid of running her away, of her only seeing him as an older brother and not someone who could care for her. And now that she seemed to be with Charles…he wondered if he had missed his chance. He was too old for her anyways, he reminded himself. She deserved someone her age.

But she had said she cared for both of them, and was worried about losing him.

Arthur ran a hand down his face, holding his hand over his mouth. He never was good with figuring out his emotions. Let alone figuring out women. He shook the thoughts from his head, speeding up his horse as they neared Strawberry.

Hopefully this would be a simple jailbreak and he could head back to his bed for some much needed rest.

  Micah fucking Bell.

That’s all that was running through Arthur’s head as he moved through the town-turned-war zone. His head was pounding from all the noise and the rain didn’t help either as it caused him to focus on not slipping in the mud. Micah was bound and determined to shoot up the whole town instead of just escaping immediately after Arthur got him out. Arthur reluctantly followed the crazed man as they essentially wiped out half the town it seemed. He already had a lot on his conscious and this was certainly not helping. Especially when he discovered that the reason for all this madness was just for Micah to get his guns back from someone he knew in the past.

When the two finally managed to get away from the town – albeit by shooting anyone who followed – they stopped just outside where Micah gave Arthur one of his extra holsters. Arthur just stared at it for a while before accepting it. It wouldn’t make up for the shit he just pulled, but he’d admit the holster was at least nice looking. Not that he needed another one.

After parting ways, Arthur started the journey back to camp. He was both annoyed and thankful that Micah didn’t want to go back just yet. It meant he didn’t have to see him again for a while but it also meant he was going to probably do something stupid again.

Arthur stared at the holster. He might not need one…but he does know a certain lady who just might.

  ******

  Alice and Hosea were currently heading back to camp after taking a trip to Emerald Ranch. Hosea had set up a contact with a fence who was more than willing to buy any stage coaches the gang acquired. Alice was currently riding on Taima who was very well mannered but she could tell the horse was getting tired of Charles lending her off to people. Alice reminded herself to get a horse sooner rather than later. She glanced over to Hosea who was currently counting the stack of cash that Alice had taken from the home they swiped the stage coach from.

“A good find indeed!” He smiled over to her.

Alice returned the smile but her face must have shown her mixed feelings.

Even though it had been three days since Arthur had left to meet with Mary, she hadn’t seen him since. She knew he had been back after that night she was on watch but she couldn’t help but miss him. Even if she was a little sour.

“Still upset?”

She didn’t need to explain, he knew her feelings on the matter.

“Not necessarily.” She sighed. “I know…I know he loves her. And a love like that isn’t going to go away, even when they hurt you. Plus I know he’s too good to say no to someone in need – even when he acts all gruff and stoic.” They both laughed at that. “I just got a lot on my mind at the moment is all.”

“Well, I may be a crook, but I’ve also got a good ear if you wanna talk about it.” Hosea leaned closer, tapping his ear.

Alice truly loved Hosea. She knew he was a bad man, he is an outlaw after all, but he also took care of those under his wing. She learned so much about the art of conning people from him that half the time they ended up in a game of trying to out-con the other. Hosea usually won that one.

Alice gripped the reins a little tighter, fidgeting as she thought of how much to tell him. She’d learned from past experience that you always watch your words when it came to Hosea, he’d easily use it against you if necessary.  

“Let’s just say I’m currently dealing with…” The words got stuck in her throat. She pulled the air with her fingers to try and find the words she wanted to no avail. “Alright, look. I like Charles, yes?”

Hosea nodded, clearly interested by his smirk.

“But I also like Arthur?” She slouched in the saddle. “And I don’t exactly know what to do with these feelings. God forbid Arthur returned my feelings, then I’d have to, what? Choose between them? But that would mean hurting one of them in the process and I don’t want that.” She quickly realized she was just venting all of her thoughts but she couldn’t stop herself. “I mean if only I could-. “ She bit her cheek to stop that thought.

“Be with them both?” Hosea raised his eyebrows at her.

“I-!“ Alice’s cheeks were burning. “Would…would that be so weird?”

Hosea shrugged, taking in a deep breath while he thought.

“You’re not the first person to be dealing with these issues, my dear. No one can tell you what to do.” Hosea stopped Silver Dollar, Alice did the same. “Just do what you know will make you happy. Whatever that takes. And, I can tell you that Arthur most definitely returns your feelings.” He winked at her before trotting off.

Alice watched him ride away for a moment before her brain caught up and she nudged Taima forward. The two rode in silence for the rest of the journey, Alice’s thoughts a jumbled mess.

  The last thing she expected to see when they returned to camp that night was one Arthur Morgan pacing outside of her tent. It would be adorable if there wasn’t a small twinge in her chest that wondered if this was a good pacing or a bad pacing. She remembered Hosea’s teasing remark about Arthur liking her. She stepped forward quietly, tapping him on the shoulder to stop him from wearing a path in front of her tent.

“Everything okay?” She looked up at the man.

He definitely hadn’t been sleeping in the two days he was out, and if he did it wasn’t very restful.

“Just fine.” He smiled down at her, holding his hands behind him. “I….I wanted to apologize.”

Alice held up a hand, cutting him off.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for, Arthur. I’m the one that should be apologizing, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I know you were just being a gentleman by helping her is all.”

Arthur let a laugh out through his nose.

“Hardly a gentlemen.” He sigh, scuffing his boot on the ground. “You were right, though. In the end. Turns out she just needed my help in rescuin’ her brother and then she was off on a train tellin’ me I’ll never change.”

Alice scoffed, shaking her head.

“She hardly knows you anymore.” Alice placed a hand on his chest, her ears were warm. “You’re a good man, Arthur Morgan. When you want to be that is.” She smirked up at him.

“You got me there.” Arthur shook his head. “Speakin’ of which. I, uh, got somethin’ for ya.”

“Not another gift! I still have to get you back for the gun, Arthur.”

Arthur brought his hands forward, holding a black gun holster towards her. “Think of it as the second piece to the first one. ‘Sides, you gotta put your gun somewhere.”

Alice held the holster in her hand. It was simple, but beautifully crafted. She quickly ran into her tent to place it among her belongings.

“I love it.” She grinned up at him, all her dark thoughts from earlier pushed aside. “So what have you been up to? Been a while since you was in camp.”

Arthur scratched at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, after…all that. I had to go get Micah out of jail. That went about as well as you can imagine.”

Alice had heard the rumors from someone in Emerald Ranch, the Strawberry Massacre it was being called. She crossed her arms.

“Figures he’d start some shit like that. You make it out okay?” Her eyes scanned him for any injures.

“Yeah, just…I hate that I ended up killin’ that many folks.”

She nodded. “Anything else?”

“Well, went ahead and picked up a few payments for Strauss as well.”

Alice laughed. “Anything NOT horrible happen?”

Arthur smiled, “Actually, I did meet this rather strange photographer while I was out there. Fella got his supplies stolen by a thievin’ coyote.”

“I take it you went in and helped?”

Arthur nodded, a smile as if remembering it.

“I suppose you can’t stop yourself from helping everyone you come across, hm?”

Neither had to specify that she was talking about Mary as well with that question.

Arthur took his hat from his head, running his hands along the brim.

“I am sorry that it didn’t work out, Arthur.” Alice stared into his eyes. “I was just…”

“Jealous?” Arthur cut her off, a smirk on his lips.

Alice’s mouth hung open and she placed her hands on her hips.

“Now who said anythin’ about me bein’ jealous?”

Arthur leaned forward. “I may have come back that night and overheard you talkin’ with Charles.”

Alice’s mouth snapped shut and her teeth clacked together. “I see.”

“Charles is a good man though.” Arthur placed his hat back on his head. “He’ll take good care of you and I’m happy for you both.” He smiled gently down at her.

“Arthur…” Alice bit her lip. This was far too much confessing lately, she thought. “I care about you too, you know. Both of you, as I’m sure you heard. I just,  I need to think about things is all. You know?”

“Take all the time you need. I just want you to be happy is all. Charles too, I’m sure.”

“I take it Hosea was right in you returnin’ my feelings then?” It was Alice’s turn to smirk.

Despite the darkness of camp, Alice could definitely see Arthur’s cheek darken.

“That man, I swear.” He looked down, hiding his face with his hat.

Alice went to reply when a giant yawn escaped her instead.

He laughed, looking at her softly.

“Get some rest, sweetheart.”

  ******

  Arthur spent the next day with a bit more of a skip in his step. Felt like everything was going to work out fine for him that day. He and John had talked a bit that morning about the train that Mary-Beth had learned about in Valentine. With Arthur’s good mood it was easy for him to turn it into a means of teasing John about his wolf attack again. Turns out he and Uncle had come up with some ideas on how they could go about robbing the train so the plan for today was for Arthur to find and steal an oil wagon.

He was currently seated atop Crayola on a hill overlooking the Cornwall Kerosene and Tar Plant. He’d been there for at least an hour, maybe more, just watching the guards and trying to figure out a pattern. Once he was fairly confident, he pulled up his bandana and trotted up to the fence. He stood on his saddle to pull himself over it, landing on a stack of palettes on the other side. He landed right behind the wagon that had just been dropped off, the draft horses still harnessed thankfully. As quietly as he could he hopped onto the driver’s seat, shushing the horses as he started driving off.

The ensuing chase was much more dangerous considering his cargo and every time a shot fired off from the guards Arthur flinched, expecting a sudden explosion. By the time he managed to escape his pursuers he was more than ready to just be done with this thing. Crayola had trailed along beside him for the journey and he was thankful that she hadn’t run off too far with all the gun fire.

He found the dilapidated shack that John pointed out and slowed the horses to a stop. Once he undid their harnesses he set them free and returned to his own. He was a little hesitant about just leaving the oil wagon out here but it seemed rather secluded. Should it go missing, he thought, then it’s John’s fault for picking this place.

With that, he set off back to camp since it was still rather early in the afternoon. When he got back he was stopped by Abigail before he could get too far.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Probably not…” Arthur looked at her skeptically.

Abigail rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Would you do something with Jack? He seems kinda down. All this upheaval can’t have been easy on the poor kid. ”

Arthur scoffed. “Why? Because I’m your preferred nursemaid?”

“Because you do what you say.” Abigail placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please?”

Arthur sighed. Why did everyone have to make it so hard to say no sometimes?

“Okay.”

Abigail smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

Arthur spotted Jack sitting on the ground on the other side of camp with Alice and made his way over to them. It seemed they were currently drawing in the dirt. Arthur smiled a bit at the scene, his mind making some rather lovely mental images.

“Whatchu up to?” He kneeled down next to Jack.

“Playing” Jack replied, still holding the stick in his hand.

“Anything fun?”

“I guess…”

“Well I see how it is, mister.” Alice teased, poking Jack in the side earning a giggle from the kid.

“Say, you wanna come fishing with me?”

“Fishing?”

“Sure! It’s about time you started to earn your keep. ‘Sides, I bet I’m way more fun than your Aunt Alice here.”

Alice gaped up at him, wrinkling her nose. Arthur shot her a wink.

“Okay!” Jack turned to Alice. “Sorry, Aunt Alice.”

Alice laughed, ruffling the Jack’s hair. “It’s alright. You two have fun, okay?”

“Let’s go get your pole then. You do have a fishing pole, don’t you?”

“I sure do! Uncle Hosea made me one!” Jack smiled up at Arthur.

“Good! Well let’s go get it then. And go catch us some fish!”

“Yeah!” Jack exclaimed, running off towards his and Abigail’s tent.

Arthur smiled as he watched him. He always had a soft spot for the boy, especially with what happened to his own child. He sighed at the memories but was brought out of his dark thoughts by Alice striding up next to him. She was wiping off dirt from her hands but her view was on Jack as well.

“He’s far too adorable to be living with us outlaws.” She smiled.  

“It’s unfair, really.” Arthur crossed his arms, watching as Jack ran back towards them.

“Ya’ll have fun out there. Bring us back something good, ya hear?”

Arthur nodded at Alice as she walked off and Arthur headed towards Crayola. Once he was mounted up, and put away Jack’s fishing pole, he pulled the kid up into his saddle, settling him in front of him.

The ride down to the Dakota River was filled with chatter between the two. It seemed Jack was excited to be out of camp and Arthur couldn’t really blame him. He doesn’t exactly have anyone else his age to play with. When they finally reached the river Arthur stopped Crayola on the shore to graze while he and Jack got set up near the water.

 After about two minutes Jack quickly gave up fishing due to it being “boring.” Arthur laughed. He felt the same when he was Jack’s age so he let the kid go off to apparently make something for Abigail. In the meantime Arthur managed to catch a couple of fish to take back to camp and went to put them in his saddle bags – he didn’t want to ruin his journal by shoving them in his satchel. He figured he should probably go check on Jack and headed back to the kid.

“Hey, look at this!” Jack called out as Arthur got closer.

“Look at what?”

Jack held up his little project. “This necklace I made!”

“Necklace?” Arthur squatted down to stare at the flower-chain necklace.

“For momma.” Jack adjusted one of the knots.

Arthur smiled at him when he heard a crunch behind him and shot up at a voice.

“What a fine young man,” A finely dressed stranger called out. “And in such complex circumstances. Arthur isn’t it? Arthur Morgan?”

Arthur moved to block the man’s view of Jack. His partner pulled out a rifle, loading it.

“Who are you?” Arthur glanced at the badges attached to their jackets.

“Yes, Arthur Morgan…Van der Linde’s most trusted associate. You’ve read the files, typical case,” the man looked towards his partner. “Orphaned street kid seduced by that maniac’s silver tongue, and matures into a degenerate murderer.” The man gestured between himself and his partner. “Agent Milton. Agent Ross. Pinkerton Detective Agency, seconded to the United States Government. Nice to finally meet. We know a lot about you!”

Arthur glared. “Do you?”

“You’re a wanted man, Mr. Morgan. There’s five thousand dollars for your head alone.”

“Five thousand dollars? For me?” Arthur huffed a laugh, glancing back at Jack for a moment. “Can I turn myself in?”

The man, Agent Milton, continued unamused. “We want Van der Linde.”

“Old Dutch? I haven’t seen him for months.”

“That so? ‘Cause I heard a guy fitting his description robbed a train belonging to Leviticus Cornwall up near Granite Pass.”

“Oh, ain’t that a little old fashioned now-a-days?” Arthur fidgeted, he wasn’t sure how those fools he let live on the train could have figured it out.

“Apparently not.” Milton deadpanned. “Listen, this is my offer, Mr. Morgan: bring in Van der Linde, and you have my word you won’t swing.”

Arthur stepped towards him. “Oh, I ain’t gonna swing anyways, Agent, um…?”

“Milton.”

“You see, I haven’t done anything wrong. Aside from not playing the games to your rules.”

“Spare me the philosophy lesson,” Milton shook his head. “I’ve already heard it, from Mac Callander.”

“Mac Callander?” Arthur bristled. They had assumed the man was dead this whole time.

“He was pretty shot up by the time I got to him, so really, it was more of a mercy killing. Slow…but merciful.”

Arthur’s jaw twitched and he threw his fishing pole to the ground. Agent Ross held up his rifle and Arthur could hear Jack gasp behind him.

“You enjoy being a rich man’s toy do ya’?” Arthur growled out.

“I enjoy society. Flaws and all. You people venerate savagery and you will die savagely. All of you.”

The two were almost nose-to-nose by this point.

“Oh, we’re all gonna die, Agent.”

“Some of us sooner than others.” Milton stared Arthur down for one more moment before walking away. “Good day, Mr. Morgan.”

“Goodbye.” Arthur glared at the man’s back.

Agent Ross backed away, his gun still up. “Enjoy your fishing, kid. While you still can.”

Arthur spotted Jack walking out from behind his legs.

“Who were they?” His voice picked up.

Arthur placed his hands on the top of Jack’s head, driving his focus away from the agents. “No one to worry about. No one at all. Come on, let’s pick up your things and get home.”

 The ride back to camp was much less jovial than the ride out. Jack of course had his questions and Arthur tried his best to answer them without worrying the poor kid. He didn’t need to think about these kinds of things at his age. He tried distracting him as much as he could by talking about the necklace he had made for Abigail and whether or not he had enjoyed fishing. The verdict was the same as before: boring. Arthur hitched Crayola, helping Jack down off the saddle and into Abigail’s waiting arms. She was more than thankful for both her gift and Arthur’s help but he needed to speak with Dutch.

Arthur rubbed his face as he headed towards Dutch’s tent. He spotted Alice and Charles off in the distance. It seemed he was teaching her how to fletch arrows. They both spotted him and he nodded in their direction. Arthur walked up to Dutch who was reading on his cot.

“We got a problem.”

“What?”

“I just met some guys out near the river,” Arthur stepped closer hastily. “A feller named, erm…Milton, and erm…I don’t remember the other feller’s name. Ross! Milton and Ross.”

Dutch shrugged. “And?”

“And, they are employees of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. And they know about the train and they know we’re here.” Arthur could feel himself getting riled up, pacing through the tent.

Dutch stood, stepping towards Arthur. “Were you followed back here?”

“No.” Arthur held up his hands. “They know we’re near here and they want you, Dutch.”

Dutch had walked out into the space in front of his tent. Arthur could tell his mind was racing.

“They offered me my freedom in exchange they did.”

“Why didn’t you take it?” Dutch looked towards the edge of camp, the question had no real bite to it but Arthur still couldn’t believe he’d ask that.

“Very funny…” Arthur caught up with Dutch. “Well what do we do now?”

Dutch continued walking around the area, scratching his head in thought. Suddenly he stopped and looked up at Arthur.

“I say we do nothing just yet. They’re just trying to scare us into doing something stupid.” Arthur wasn’t sure if it was to calm himself or convince himself. “We have turned a corner, we survived them mountains. We just need to stay calm.”

Arthur nodded along. He understood. Dutch lingered for a moment before breaking away, still watching the edges of the camp.

Arthur walked over to where Alice and Charles were sitting and joined them.

“You okay?” Alice asked.

Arthur took in a deep breath. This day had certainly taken a turn.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Arthur smiled tightly at her, she seemed hesitant but accepted it nonetheless. Charles offered to teach Arthur how to make arrows as well and Arthur welcomed the distraction. He couldn’t keep his eyes from flitting to the forest surrounding them and hoped whoever was on watch kept their eyes open tonight.