#jack is named john????? omg | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cowboydisaster · 2 years ago

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes

part VII: horshoe overlook iii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.2k

summary: You and Arthur take Lenny to drown his anxieties at the saloon, and it ends up bring more trouble than you would have imagined. The gang finally deals with that O'driscoll, and Arthur opens up more about his past when Abigail asks you both to take Jack out. You meet a couple of threatening strangers.

a/n: highly recommended playing 'a quiet time soundtrack' when you get to the bar scene. This chapter was so fun to write omg. Lots of set up in this chapter, along with plenty of fluff, angst and more talking about our feelings. You're still in denial, Arthur is opening up, its a whole thing. P.S. if you aren't sure who Nils is, just google him on yt. Please please check the warnings before you read! beta read by @margowritesthings <3

warnings: Violence, gore, blood, attempted/implied mention of SA, its very brief and we kill him hehe, wanted to add the tag just in case)

hotlinks: TFIYE on AO3 & official series playlist

SERIES MASTERPOST

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

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

“Okay, pick a color. We have pink, red, orange or white.” Marybeth asks, excitedly weaving her fingers through your hair, neatly braiding it. You smile, glancing over to her basket of wildflowers.

“How about white?” You suggest, looking at the assortment of flowers in her basket, eyes honing in on the pale white jasmines and baby’s breath.

It's a warm evening, with golden light peeking over the mountains as the sun begins to set. You had ventured down the hill towards the Dakota River with Marybeth earlier, and she had picked from a patch of wildflowers, bringing home only the most beautiful specimen. Tilly and Karen sit around on the ground next to you, and you chuckle as the three girls giggle and gossip.

“Marybeth, you oughta do me next. I can’t be goin’ out on the town with hair like this.” Karen jokes, and Marybeth lights up, excited to share the time with you girls.

You bite into an apple, crunching and savoring the sweet flavor as Marybeth braids your hair down your back. You glance into the mirror, the one Marybeth stole from Arthur’s shaving station, noticing how much your hair has grown since you’ve joined the Van der Lindes. She ties the bottom of the braid with a little white knot, smiling as she plucks some white flowers from her basket.

“You’re gonna love it.” Marybeth sighs, eyes sparkling as she begins to tuck the stems into the creases of your braid, leaving little white flowers embedded in your hair. She’s missed a few tiny pieces around your face, and they fall down, framing your cheekbones. From across camp, sitting outside his tent like an overseer, Dutch keeps his eyes on you. You ignore it, purposefully refusing to meet his glance.

You glance around, people watching as Marybeth finishes up her work. On the other side of camp, Uncle is wasted, Strauss is scribbling away in a journal, and Abigail is having a hushed argument with John. It's all so normal.

"I heard Abigail and John yellin' again this morning." Tilly tsks, shaking her head with a sigh, glancing to their tent.

"What about?" You ask, eyebrows pulled together. Marybeth releases your braid for a moment, allowing you to turn towards the girls.

"The usual." Karen bites, irritated by their bickering, and Tilly elaborates.

"Well John ain't exactly been… a great father to Jack."

"John's an ass. Jack only wants his daddy, but he knows his daddy wants nothin' to do with him." Karen explains, scowling in the scar-faced outlaw across camp.

"Poor Jack…" You frown, familiar with the feeling of being unwanted.

"How does Abigail do it all?" Marybeth asks, pulling and perfecting your braid and the flowers lined in it.

"No idea." Tilly mumbles. It grows quiet for a while as you all get lost in thought. You think about what Arthur had said, just a few weeks ago, about his son, and you sigh.

"Done!" Marybeth chimes and you smile at her as she holds Arthur's mirror up, letting you see. She's done a beautiful job, leaving the braid tight enough so it won't fall out, but loose enough for it to be beautifully messy and comfortable. The little white flowers are an intricate touch, just enough of them to add dimension to your hair without overpowering it.

"Marybeth, it's beautiful!" You say, smiling sweetly at her before reaching into your satchel.

"For your troubles." You whisper, winking as you slide her a candy bar. Marybeth's eyebrows pop up in surprise as she takes the little sweet, tucking it into her skirt.

"Thank you, Marybeth." You say, standing up and stretching your knees. You address the other girls then, nodding to them.

"I'll return this to Mr. Morgan, thank you for your good company." You say, taking his stand mirror from the ground and walking away from their wagon. Arthur's tent isn't far, and within a few moments you stand outside his covered wagon, placing his mirror back down on his designated shaving barrel with a hum.

A throat clears behind you, startling you as you whip around to find the source.

"Stole my mirror, huh?" Arthur jokes. He's standing in front of his wardrobe, wearing only a pair of jeans as he digs through the clothes in search of a shirt. He's looking down in the chest, and you swallow thickly, watching the muscles flex as you blush.

"Yeah uh, well Marybeth took it to do my hair. I'm just bringin' it back." You mumble, running your finger along the barrel lid to distract yourself.

At the mention of your hair, Arthur looks over at you. His eyes wrinkle with crows feet as he smiles, a little warm grin. The white flowers frame your face, and you look up at him with those eyes. He's sure you've fallen from heaven, looking as innocent as a lamb. How deceiving, because your temper is anything but.

He comes toward you, still shirtless, though he holds a deep blue patterned shirt in his hand.

"You uh," Arthur nods to the white flowers that crown your hair like a halo. "Your hair looks real pretty." Arthur says, pulling the shirt over his arms before buttoning it up.

You huff, pulling one of the flowers out and dropping it to the ground.

"Marybeth." You explain, just as hooves sound out like war drums from the outskirts of camp. Without a second thought, your hand rests on your holster, prepared for the worst. You jog towards the camp entrance with Arthur just as Lenny gallops through the trees on Maggie, both out of breath. Lenny practically throws himself out of the saddle in a panic, and Maggie rears up.

“They-! They got Micah!” Lenny hollers, running towards the two of you.

“Arthur! Star, Dutch! They got Micah, they got him in Strawberry. They nearly lynched me!” Lenny yells, hands resting on his knees.

You rest your hand on his shoulder, making sure he's okay, as you all try to catch up.

“What is going on?” Dutch asks, striding out of his tent and straight up to the three of you. Your braid flips over your shoulder as you make sure Lenny is steady before letting him go. He takes a breath, calming down before continuing as Dutch joins.

“It’s okay, son, breathe.” Dutch pats the younger man on the back.

“They got Micah at the sheriff’s in Strawberry, and there’s talk of hangin’ him.” Lenny explains, and you raise an eyebrow, unsure of what the problem is then. Arthur seems to be sharing a similar train of thought as he mumbles under his breath.

“Here’s hoping.” Arthur bites, and Dutch looks at him with a comically shocked face.

“Arthur.” He scolds, as if disciplining a dog, and you snort.

“Micah deserves to sit in that jail for a while. Let him get nervous, let him rot a little more, it’ll do him good.” You point out, leaning down to strike a match of the bottom of your boot.

“She’s right. You know my feelings’ bout him Dutch.” Arthur warns, voice low and you nod, lighting a cigarette.

“He is a fine man. But she’s right. He’s brought this on himself. Go get him in a few weeks, Me and the lady’s faces are plastered all over Blackwater, it’ll have to be you, Arthur.” Dutch explains, and Arthur groans with a sigh. They continue their bickering, and you leave them to it, walking over to where Lenny sits at the wooden table.

“You okay?” You ask, sitting on the table, placing your boots onto the seat of the chair next to Lenny.

“Yeah, just shaken up. I hate ridin’ with Micah, it’s like he loses his mind.” Lenny whispers, eyes far away as he shakes his head.

“Yeah… I seen it too.” You mumble, scowling. Arthur and Dutch wrap up their conversation, and then Dutch walks over to the two of you.

“C’mon kid. We’re gettin’ a drink, Dutch’s orders.” Arthur chuckles, and you slide down from the table, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m comin’ too.” You chime, following the two boys to the hitching posts.

“Maybe just one or two will calm my nerves.” Lenny sighs, climbing back up into Maggie’s saddle.

You pet Athena, giving her a mint as a peace offering for taking her from the hay before mounting up.

“We even allowed to go in the saloon after all that ruckus you caused?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at Arthur. Lenny turns in his saddle to look at you for a moment before spurring Maggie further into the evening.

“What trouble have you boys been causing now?” Lenny directs at Arthur, hollering over the sound of cantering hooves.

“Nothin’ much just some good n fair bar fightin.” Arthur says, downplaying the situation.

“Ha! Yeah, Arthur, just some friendly punches. How much you wanna bet that the windows’ still broken from your ass flyin through it?” You holler, and Arthur laughs, crossing over the railroad tracks into town.

“It’s all done with now, and at least nobody died.” Arthur points out to which you nod. Good point.

You trot up the main road, pulling your horses in front of the new Blacksmith building. Typically you would just hitch in front of the saloon, but the bar must be packed tonight because horses line the street in front of Smithfields. You jump down from Athena, petting her neck while looking at the new building in front of you. There's some light inside, a candle or two, and an ‘open’ sign on the front door. Outside two men talk, one wasted.

“Y-You open mis-” he hiccups, “Mister?” The one man asks, a plain looking feller. But the man he is talking to, presumably the shop owner, is a small man with small features and a big white beard. He wears a red beanie hat on his head, and his face is bright red.

“Okay…” The peculiar man says with a strong accent. Your eyebrows draw together, and you chuckle. Maybe he doesn’t speak english.

“I need a hammer… you see I'm building’ a house, buildin’ a house down the road..” The drunk man slurs, barely able to keep steady as the smaller, foreign man grabs the drunkard's arm, pushing him inside the shop.

“Okay!” The small man says, and you laugh at his oddity. You remember Hosea telling you about this shop owner, and the strange little things he sells in his shop.

“Star? You comin’?” Arthur asks, and you turn around, realizing you’d been eavesdropping on the strangers. You turn back to the shop for a moment, eyeing its peculiarity before sheepishly turning back to Arthur.

“I'm gonna go check this place out for a minute. I’ll be over shortly.” You smile, looking towards the shop excitedly, remembering that you have a little cash from your box on you. Lenny rests against a beam under the porch of the general store, out of earshot from you and Arthur’s conversation. He only knows that you’re both doing a whole lot of talking and not a lot of drinking.

“You two comin, or what?” Lenny hollers, and Arthur gestures towards you.

“We’ll catch up, just give us a minute.” Arthur yells back, following after you towards the shop entrance.

“I’ll start a tab.” Lenny chuckles, walking up the sidewalk towards the bar.

“You need somethin’ from the blacksmith?” Arthur asks, holding the door open for you as you step inside.

“No, just wanted to look is all. Hosea said there was some more stuff in here than tools, the man likes to work metal into all kinds of things.” You say at a volume so that only Arthur can hear you. He nods, and you take in the shop. The little building is split into two sections. On the right, the bigger section, all sorts of home made tools hang from nails in the wall, for sale. There's hammers, screwdrivers, bits, and all sorts of other things that you don’t care about. You glance to the left side of the shop, and your eyes light up. Shelves line the wall, and the little foreign shop owner sits on the checkout counter beside them, swinging his legs. The shelves are lined with hand crafted metal cups, decorations and jewelry, anything one can think of. He has little metal spoons, crafted and twisted beautifully. There are necklaces, belt buckles and rings, none of them resembling another, all unique. Your eyes light up, and Arthur watches you with a sweet smile as you run your hand down the expanse of one of the shelves, taking everything in. A few other people mill around, looking as well.

“Arthur, look at all this.” You gasp, bewildered by the handcrafted, intricate things that this odd man has made. Arthur walks with you, falling into pace as his spurs click against the floor. He’s mesmerized, alright. But the trinkets on the shelf have little to do with it. The flowers in your hair, the excitement on your face from such a small pleasure, the stars in your eyes that shine brighter than any night he’s ever seen.

Arthur steps away, walking towards the other side of the shop as you come up to the accessory section. Particularly what catches your attention is the hat accessories, and you pick a few up, wondering what they might look like on your own hat, back at camp. Then it catches your eye. A smaller hat accessory rests closer to the back of the shelf, and with your eyebrows pulled together in concentration, you pick it up. It's a piece to be added on the side of a hat, a small bundle of feathers, bound with twine and wrapped in beautiful, coiled metal. But what catches your eye is the teal agate, embedded into the metal that wraps around the bundle. It’s a color you've seen time and again. A throat clears behind you, and you turn, meeting eyes of the same teal.

“Ready?” Arthur asks, not noticing the little gift that you’re hiding behind your back. You nod, glancing at the older shop owner for a moment.

“Yeah I’ll be right over, but first could you… could you give me a minute?” You ask, and Arthur nods, looking a little confused or worried.

“Sure. Everythin’ alright?” Arthur asks, and you nod. He steps back, tipping his hat to you lightly before walking out of the shop. With a breath, you pull the accessory back in front of you.

The agate is the same color as Arthur’s eyes, and you look over the gift with great fondness. No because of the accessory itself per se, but because of the man you’re going to gift it to. Holding the feathered accessory up to the light, you gasp, seeing almost unnoticeable stars stamped into the fine metal. You want to give Arthur something new for his hat, something that he can use to make it his own. Damn his father, and the fear that Arthur feels every day, wondering if he’s turning into the bastard. You want Arthur’s hat to be his, something he can pass down to his children or whomever one day with good memories, not bad ones.

With your mind made, you walk up to the shopkeeper.

“How much for this?” You ask, placing it on the counter where the man sits. He hops down, not saying a word as he walks around the other side of the counter. He takes a piece of paper from under the register, writing some things down in a language you can't understand. Then, he opens the cash register and looks up to you.

“Ja, Okay.” He says, holding his hand out for you to place cash into and you chuckle, sighing.

“You?- Alright mister.” You chuckle, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a five dollar bill. A man, leaning against the wall laughs, filling you in.

“Yeah, that there is Nils. He don’t really talk much, he understands though. A Norwegian fella, not even sure he speaks English, but he’s a damn good smith.” The man says, picking up a belt buckle and looking it over.

“That he is.” You hum as Nils hands you back a few odd cents.

“Names’ David Geddes.” The informant smiles, reaching to shake your hand. “I work with Nils here. He’s helpin’ me to build a ranch up in West Elizabeth.” Mr. Geddes says, releasing your hand. You smile, hearing that northern West Elizbeth is beautiful territory.

“If you’re ever in the market for tools or land, you know where to find us.” Mr. Geddes smiles, and you nod, knowing that you’re never going to need either of those things. You keep it in mind, though.

“Thank you Mr. Geddes, pleasure to meet you. You as well, Mr. Nils!” You smile at both men, giggling as Nils says ‘okay!’ when you walk out the door. Proudly, you place the little gift in your satchel. You want to wait until the perfect time to give it to him. Smiling, you walk past the few shops towards the saloon. You can hear the music from outside, a pianist enjoying himself on the keys, probably drunk as a skunk. You were right earlier, the window is still smashed out from Arthur being thrown out of it.

You push the saloon doors open, walking in just as a man was walking out. Your shoulders hit off each other, and you scowl deeply at him before moving towards the bar. A loud game of poker is being played at the table, with drunk, laughing players. Working women linger about, draped over chairs and men, waiting to be taken upstairs for the night. You squeeze past the people, slipping onto the bar beside Arthur and Lenny, with Arthur in the middle.

“Boys.” You greet, waving down the bartender. The saloon is loud, and you have to yell over the music to hear each other, even with the close proximity.

“Now just one or two. Right, Arthur?” Lenny asks as he clinks his bottle against Arthur’s.

“Course, just a drink.” Arthur responds, tapping his glass against the counter before taking a long swig.

“Hey!” You yell to the bartender, irritated. He doesn’t pay you any mind, and you huff.

Jumping up onto the bar so that your stomach is on the counter, you grab a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter. It’s nearly empty, and you groan. Arthur shakes his head as you slide back down to the ground.

“I don’t plan on staying too long.” Lenny reiterates, and you nod, tapping your fingers against the bottle to the rhythm of the funk music.

“Me neither.” You say, swallowing the little bit of drink left over before tossing it over the counter.

Another man slides onto the open space of the bar beside you. He’s already been done in by the drink, eyes glazed over with red cheeks. Arthur keeps an eye on him, not too comfortable with the way this man is looking at you.

“Hey- Hey miss?” He asks, and you turn to him. Arthur watches it unfold as you bat your eyelashes, and at first he’s confused as you look up to the sleazebag with doe-like eyes.

“Yes, mister?” You ask, twirling your finger around your hair.

“Can I buy you a beer?” He asks, smiling like an idiot. You smile, resting your hand on the man’s chest. Ah, a pocket watch,right in his vest pocket. You feel the outline of the fine metal through his shirt, and you smirk.

“She likes whiskey.” Arthur bites, not seeing your scheme playing out. You elbow him lightly, and his eyebrows pull together.

“Hey, Hey a beer for this fine woman!” The drunk man calls out, and as he leans over the bar to pay the tender, you sneak your fingers between him and the bar, gently pulling the chain until the pocket watch emerges from his pocket. Very content, you slide it into your pocket, smirking up at Arthur. He looks bewildered, amazed, as he laughs, elbowing Lenny and filling him in.

“For you, m- m’lady.” The drunkard says, handing you a beer. You take it, no trace of a smile on your lips as you slide it down the bar to Lenny. The drunk man scowls angrily, slamming his fist down on the counter.

“What the hell?” He asks, face turning red with anger. You smile, leaning against the bar, acting as if he doesn't exist.

“This what a feller gets for bein’ nice?” He huffs, and you bite your tongue, slipping your eyes closed to quell your rage. Arthur orders a whiskey, and places the glass in front of you.

“Tried to tell you partner, this lady likes her liquor.” Arthur chuckles, toasting another glass with Lenny. You swirl the glass in your hand, sipping from it while putting all your attention into not killing this man.

“You owe me!” He yells, spittle flying. Even Arthur tenses at your side, pointing a threatening finger to the drunk.

“Shut your mouth, buddy.” Arthur warns, and the music grows louder, more intense, as does your grip on your drink.

“Or what?” The man laughs maniacally, sizing you up and down and concluding that you wouldn't hurt a fly.

“Leave this idiot alone, he ain’t worth it.” Lenny interjects, always the voice of reason. The man laughs at that, turning to you three like he's an old friend.

“Leave me alone? Well people been leavin me alone for nearly ten years! I say that's their loss, I’m a great guy, bought this bitch a drink-” The man rambles on, and your shoulders set, eyes glazing over as a rage fills you. You slam your drink against the counter, spilling most of it before grabbing that damn idiot by the back of his collar. You slam his head down onto the bar in one swift motion, and it cracks. Sparing him no time to recuperate, you tear him away from the bar, dragging him towards the door where you literally kick him through the saloon doors.

Lenny whistles under his breath as you come back, wiping your hands on your jeans before picking your glass back up.

“Where were we, boys?” You ask, turning to the men.

— AN HOUR (OR TWO?) LATER —

‘Clink, clink, clink’ is all you hear as bottles and glasses continuously toast against each other. You’ve lost count of the amount of drinks you've been handed, or stolen off the bar. Arthur laughs loudly over the music, a contagious sound that has you and Lenny giggling like fools. You feel good and warm, a buzz running through your veins and filling your head with a fuzzy cloud.

“You want another one, Arthur? Star?” Lenny asks, laughter dying down as he waves to the bartender.

“Sure, we’re already here!” Arthur hollers, words slurred as you nod your head.

“Yeah but first, I- I gotta go play that piano!” You holler, picking up your glass and dancing your way down to the pianist.

— A WHILE LAETR—

You sit up on top of the bar, laughing so hard that you can barely breath. You don’t remember what was so funny, but it sure was. You slap your knee, cackling at something with Arthur. Lenny’s laughing too, leaning down against the bar to stop from falling over.

“You! You are a hilarious feller, Arthur Morgan!” You snort, taking a big long swig from your bottle. You think it's whiskey, but you're not sure. It doesn’t even burn anymore, just going straight down.

“Arthur!” You call, grabbing his biceps to shake his attention. He jumps, startled, and then laughs. Being on the bar has you sitting a little taller than him, and he looks up at you with a dumb expression.

“You ever-” You hiccup, “-had a dog?” You ask. It's a very serious inquiry, and you need to know. Arthur’s brows pull together as he thinks, and it looks kind of painful.

“One time… bout a million years ago.” Arthur squints, dead serious, staring at the wall behind you. You erupt into a fit of laughter, smacking the outlaw on the shoulder.

“What the hell is a million years?” You ask in between chuckles. The music is loud, the mood is good. The sun has set, and more patrons have joined the saloon.

“I don’t know, but I bet it's at least a thousand.”

You nod, concluding that he’s probably correct on that account. You turn to your right, right where Lenny was sitting, to ask him his opinions on the matter.

“What about you Lenny? You ever-” You stop, dumbfounded when you realize he’s not there. Surely he was just a second ago.

“Lenny?” You ask, turning your head around to find him.

“Oh no.” Arthur mumbles, looking around as well.

“Arthur, he's disappeared!” You yell, panicked, but Arthur grabs your waist, pulling you down to the ground. Once you're down from the bar, Arthur keeps grip on your hips for just a moment longer.

“We’ll find him, don't you worry. If anybody can come back from disappearin’ it's Lenny.” Arthur explains, and you nod. That makes sense.

“Should we split up?” You ask as Arthur leads you to the center of the saloon. Arthur nods, stumbling lightly as he pulls you through the crowd.

“Yeah, youse smart. We can cover-” Arthur burps, chuckling deeply for a moment, “We can cover more ground if we split up. I’ll go upstairs.” Arthur explains, and you nod, pushing past people.

“Smart thinkin. I’ll go upstairs too.” You say, following him up.

“Good plan.” Arthur approves, stumbling up the staircase while pulling you behind him.

“LENNY!!?” Arthur yells, looking around for your lost friend. You see lots of people, but you don’t see Lenny, least you don't think you do.

“Lenny!?” You mimic Arthur, chuckling as he pulls you around the fenced in overhand that overlooks the bar downstairs.

“There you is!” Arthur calls, and you look around until you see him. Lenny is leaning on the little fence, trying to balance a glass on his nose.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask, both confused and amazed. Lenny laughs, swaying so as to not drop it from his nose.

“I- I don’t know!”

The glass falls, and Lenny tries to catch it but his delayed reflexes do him in and the glass falls down the overlook, shattering onto the saloon floor downstairs. You all laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world, doubling over as you try to breathe from cackling.

Then somehow you all have more drinks in your hand, and you’re toasting them together, cheering loudly. You don’t even know what you’re drinking, but it sure goes down nice. Lenny hooks his arm under yours, and you do-si-do, tripping and stumbling and laughing like you’ve never laughed before. Arthur switches spots with Lenny then, hooking his arm under yours and dancing around. But Arthur lacks Lenny’s grace, or maybe he’s just more drunk, and halfway around the circle he accidentally trips you, sending you straight to the floor. Your drink smashes against the ground, and you lay on the floor for a while, arms and legs spread out as you chuckle.

Arthur pulls you up, nearly falling over himself, and then you all lean against the railing with more drinks.

“Arthur why ain’t you never married?” Lenny asks, and Arthur’s mouth hangs open as he thinks.

“No one would have me.” Arthur sighs, a pathetic, sad little noise. You slap him on the back, trying to encourage him.

“Whaddya mean no one would have you, Arthur everyone wants you! Hell I’m sure you had ladies lined up round the block back in the day.” You say, and he nods, thinking it over.

“Well maybe, but I did not see them!” He responds, toasting his drink to yours.

— LAETR?—

Arthur jumps up and down, stomping against the floor with his arms flailing.

“I’m doin’ it!” He screams, earning multiple annoyed glances from other patrons.

“You sure are! I- I don’t know what you’re doin’ but it’s somethin!” You yell back, laughing.

Then suddenly you’re sitting on the poker table, legs swinging over the side. You’re not even sure how you’ve gotten here, but your head is so fuzzy and relaxed you don’t care. Arthur stands on the ground, in between your knees looking up at you.

“Why ain’t you never sweet on no one?” You ask, fingers tracing stars on his right shoulder. Arthur’s hand rests on your thigh, and he looks up at you, confused.

“Huh?”

“Karen said you- you didn't like girls. I mean- Karen said you didn't like any of the girls in camp. They're all beautiful, young n kind, why haven't you gone sweet on em?" You ask, drunkenness loosening your lips and releasing some of the questions you've been holding back for ages.

"Well I am sweet on someone, dumbass." He says, laughing and you slap his shoulder lightly.

"Who?!" You holler, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. He's not sweet on anyone that you can think of, but you can't really think right now. Arthur's hand gently squeezes your leg before he backs away, downing the last of his beer.

"You're funny, y'know. Askin all kinds of questions, but I can't even think right now." Arthur's lips form a little confused pout, "least I don't think I can…"

"Yeah, you're right that's a lot of thinkin'." You say, nodding your head. Arthur comes back forward, placing his hands on the table on either side of your legs.

"It's easy thinkin' bout you though. That's somethin' that don't make my head hurt." Arthur whispers, fuzzy eyes transfixed on the pout of your lips before they trail up to your sparkling eyes. A blush creeps over your cheeks, and you slide down from the table, sneaking under his arm towards the bar.

"Buy me another drink Mr. Morgan!"

— LNENY?—

You cackle, leaning over the bar sometime later. The sun has long since set, but you have no idea what time it is. Arthur's on one side of you, and you look over to where Lenny-

You look over to where Lenny used to be.

"Wait, where'd Lenny go?!" You slur your words as the room spins, flashing all sorts of different colors.

"DAMMIT LENNY WHERE YOU AT BOYYY-" Arthur yells, slamming his drink down on the counter.

"We gotta find him, he's probably lost." You conclude, looking around the room.

"Yeah or maybe he's stuck someplace."

You wander around, losing Arthur as you yell for Lenny at the top of your lungs. You can hear Arthur yelling too, and you giggle. Lennt must have vanished, like those magic shows in the city.

"Leave the kid alone, you goddamn animals." Arthur growls, and you turn to see him walking down the stairs. Lenny is standing up on the bar, yelling at a group of men in front of the bar. The man in front of the bar, who Arthur was yelling at, turns towards Arthur.

"And who might you be?" The man hisses, growing irritated with you all. Arthur looks mighty confused for a moment, and you stumble towards the scene playing out.

"They call me Arthur, n' people who don't call me Arthur? Well I guess they do not know my name." Arthur whispers, chuckling.

"What-?" The other man asks, and you stride right up to him, punching him straight in the nose.

—SUME TYME LTAER—

You line kick, arms intertwined with Arthur's and Lenny's, hoisting your legs up in the air with a bunch of other people, you laugh carelessly, dancing away.

Then you're not dancing- you're laying on the staircase next to Lenny and Arthur, drinks in hand.

"I gotta piss." Arthur says, tapping your knee before standing up.

"You should probably do that. You can't drink more if you ain't peed." You explain, and Arthur frowns, thinking.

"Really?" He asks, and you nod.

"It's true Arthur! I read that once. I- I think I did anyhow." Lenny chimes in, and Arthur runs outside.

You sit with lenny for a while, feeling light as ever, drinking your fill and then some.

— ??? —

"I got a quesstionn…" You say, pressed up against the wall by Arthur's hands.

"Hmm?" Arthur asks, eyes heavy as he tries not to fall over, arms bracing themselves on either side of your head against the saloon wall. You're outside, and the walls buzz from music and banter.

"I probably don't know an answer but… but I'll try." Arthur says.

"Back in Colter, in Horseshoe durin' that storm, up in the hills in your tent… why’d you do all that?" You ask, a sense of clarity overcoming you even though you're drunk beyond help. Arthurs' trying to think back, but his head hurts.

"Huh?"

"You- you laid with me, held my hand till I fell asleep. Why'd you do that?" You ask as Arthur's hands slide away from the wall, down to his belt. It hits Arthur then, all the things he'd done, things he knows he shouldn't have done, but couldn't stop himself from doing.

"I- I don't know. Guess… you was sad. I wanted to make you feel better." Arthur mumbles, eyes downcast. You smile, buzzing.

"Did it work? Do I make you feel better?" Arthur whispers. His voice is low and deep, that familiar, gravelly tone. You smile up at him as one of his hands comes back up to the wall beside your head, trapping you in.

"You make me feel great, Arthur. Real great." You breathe out, veins pumping with adrenaline as Arthur leans closer in towards your face. His eyes are dark, pupils blown and you can smell the whiskey on his breath with the proximity.

"I bet I could make you feel even better, Star. I could make you feel lots a' things." He growls, eyes trailing from each of your eyes to your lips. You laugh, pushing him away from you lightly.

"Well maybe! But you can’t beat me at poker for shit!" You laugh, pushing the saloon doors open and walking back inside. Arthur follows behind you, laughing all the same.

"You seen Lenny?" He asks, looking around.

"Dammit!" You curse, pushing through the patrons of the saloon towards the steps. You grab onto Arthur's hand, dragging him along with you.

You see a few doors there, and thinking Lenny might be hiding in a room, you push one open. You gasp, laughing loudly as you open the door on a man and a woman having intimate relations. You laugh, apologizing as you swing the door shut, but Arthur screams.

You turn to him, chuckling and confused.

"You n-never saw a naked woman before, Arthur?" You ask. He looks like he's just seen something traumatic as he points a finger towards the door, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.

"That weren't a woman." Arthur bites, the image of Lenny riding Lenny burned into his mind forever. But you're clueless as to what he's just seen.

— …..?—

You laugh uncontrollably as Arthur pushes that man from earlier into the pig's water trough. He dunks the man's head under one more time before tossing him to the ground. You leave the pig pen, oinking and wheezing with laughter.

"I'm a- a police!" Arthur laughs, slipping in the mud as he jogs after you, down the main street.

"I'm gonnaa get'cha!" He yells as you run down the road, sliding and laughing.

"YOU CAN'T! You can't get me, HA-" You scream, running towards the stables, jumping over a fence, tripping and falling into the mud.

"Fuck!" You yell, unusually colorful language for you as the sheriff and a deputy approach you from the road.

"Hey! You two, come here!" Sheriff Malloy hollers, jogging after you. Arthur picks you up from the mud and slings you over his shoulder.

"Arthur! They're- they're gonna get us, we gotta run!" You yell from his shoulder as he bolts, slipping and sliding.

"WE'RE AMERICANS! YOU'LL NEVER CATCH US ALIVE!" Arthur screams into the night, approaching a mighty high fence.

"Yeah, we got RIGHTS!" You yell.

Arthur tries to jump the fence, but he's so drunk, and with you on his shoulder he doesn't even come close to clearing it. The fence breaks as Arthur lands down on it awkwardly, and you both land in the mud.

— — — —

The light hurts your eyes as they flutter open, and you squint, head throbbing. Everything hurts, your head feels like it's been filled with lead and if you move too quickly you know you'll throw up. You finally come to, and realize you're laying on a wooden bench. Arthur is laying on the floor next to the bench, awake but not moving. Then you realize where you are.

You spot the unmistakable metal bars, and you groan.

"Arthur, what did we do?" You ask, not remembering an ounce of the previous night. From outside of your shared cell, Sheriff Malloy stands up, grabbing a cup of coffee from a percolator.

"Well the typical stuff for folks such as yourselves: harassin people, causin trouble, bein loud and breaking shit. But you also waterboarded a fella within an inch of his life, and stole a pig, this man here carried it around half the town oinkin and causing a ruckus. Although it sure was something to see, I don't appreciate being pulled outta bed with the wife at five in the damn morning." He says, taking a sip from his coffee before sitting down in his seat, propping his feet up on his desk. You look around, wincing from the movement.

"Well where's Lenny?" You ask as Arthur groans loudly, holding his stomach as he sits up on the bench beside you.

"Only brought in the pair of ya." The sheriff shakes his head.

“However you two managed to drink that much without passin’ out or dyin’ is beyond me.” Sheriff Malloy whistles, shaking his head.

Arthur stands up, slowly walking over towards the front of the cell. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bill fold before handing it through the bars.

“Should be enough to cover our bounties, and some extra for your troubles.”

Sheriff Malloy takes the cash and stuffs it into his pocket, silently grabbing the keys off of his desk.

“Go on. Get. And how about layin’ off the hooch for a while?” The sheriff asks, and you nod. He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You and Arthur walk out of the jail scot free. As soon as you’re out of the building, you lean against the wooden support beam, heaving.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Arthur winces, pulling your now very messy braid behind your shoulder as you throw up. You cough, wishing you were dead as the sunlight burns your eyes, killing your already throbbing head.

“Here.” Arthur hands a rag from his satchel down to you, leaning on your knees as you clean yourself up.

“Just one or two, huh? Jesus-” You take slow, deep breaths, trying not to puke again.

“You even remember what the hell we did last night?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Nothin. I remember nothin.” You admit, standing up from the beam. Arthur hums, he remembers it all.

“Come on, let's get you home, you need a lie down.” Arthur groans, feeling like shit as he whistles. Luckily somehow, the horses stuck around and they trot up the main street.

The ride back to camp is very quiet, and very slow. Neither of you push your horses past a walk, not wanting to sicken yourselves even more. The silence is comfortable, a mutual understanding that opening your mouth to speak right now would be too much, and you just need to lie down and feel sorry for yourselves. Upon arriving at camp, you find Lenny is there, passed out in the grass next to his bedroll. You dismount Athena, groaning as your feet touch the ground.

“Here, take this. It’ll make you feel better. I’ll go make sure Grimshaw doesn’t give you any trouble.” Arthur mumbles, handing you a glass bottle of tonic.

You take it, quietly thanking him before dragging your heels to your tent. You’ve never been this hungover in your life, you’ve never had reason to drink so much. After closing the tent flap to prevent any extra light from coming in, you drink the whole tonic and flop down in your bed, groaning.

— — — —

You wake up, about twelve hours later, to the sounds of maniacal laughing and screaming. You groan, sighing and covering your ear with your pillow to drown out the noise. It proves futile as the screaming and crying continue, and you figure you should probably go check it out. You get up from bed, mood sour as ever, but you’re feeling a little better. Pushing the flaps open to your tent, you’re met with the pros and cons of living with twenty people.

“Mornin” Arthur chuckles, eyebrows raised at the state of your hair. Your braid is half fallen out, and the few flowers that have managed to stay in your hair are wilted. You groan, rolling your eyes before pulling the band out from the bottom of your braid and finger brushing the flowers out.

“What's got you so sour?” Arthur asks, looking fresh and cleaned up. He's washed up, taken a bath and trimmed his beard. He looks good, and you look like you just barely escaped a natural disaster.

"How the hell are you even awake right now, let alone bathed and cleaned up? I'm pretty sure I still got puke on my shirt." You sigh, re-braiding your hair neatly, but loosely. Arthur takes a sip of his coffee.

"I can actually handle my whiskey." Arthur jokes, "Go back to Valentine, buy a bath."

"Firstly, I don't think you can, considerin' what happened last night. And on account of the bath, I can't. I don't have enough cash." You sigh.

"A bath is only a dollar, thought you had some cash on you?" Arthur raises an eyebrow as you roll back on your heels.

"I did. I spent it."

"On what?" Arthur asks, sure that he'd paid for the drinks last night, except for the ones you stole.

"Just a little present, it ain't much." You smile, sighing and gripping his hand to pull him into your tent. You lead him through the tent flap, pulling him along by his hand.

"What're you doin, woman?" Arthur chuckles as you pluck his hat from his head.

"Don't make fun of me. I saw this yesterday, n' it reminded me of you." You whisper, pulling out the hat ornament and attaching it to the rope band on his hat, on the left side.

Arthur watches on fondly as you attach the little accessory. A warm feeling spreads through his chest, knowing that you'd thought of him. After you've finished, you hold his hat back out to him. He takes the hat back with a shocked expression on his face, and you're worried he doesn't like it, so you rush to reassure him.

"If you don't like it, or think it's dumb- maybe this was stupid I just, it reminded me of you, and-" You ramble, stopping to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

"It's perfect." Arthur smiles, looking down to the agate, feathered ornament, dappled with little stars that remind him of you. He means it. The little decoration is perfect. The teal agate matches his eyes, the imprinted metal ensures that you're with him all the time, as if you don't already linger in his mind 24/7. He couldn't have picked out something more perfect if he tried. The accessory is fashionable, a fancy and intricate piece to add to his hat, and he's excited to wear it.

You blush, smiling happily as Arthur fondly runs his finger over the accessory before placing his hat back on his head. You lean up, adjusting it correctly while on your tiptoes.

"You carry a lot of bad memories with this hat," You whisper, thinking of Arthur's father, "Figure it's about time you make it yours, start makin' some good memories with it." You explain.

"It's perfect, Star." Arthur all but whispers, and you sheepishly nod, blushing. You’re proud of the little gift, and Arthur is shocked by the thought you’d put into it.

“Looks real nice. You needed somethin’ to match those eyes.” You nod up to his hat as he leads you out of your tent. He opens his mouth to speak, but much to your growing annoyance, he is cut off by another yelp from across camp.

“Goddamnit, what is happening?” You groan, nodding for Arthur to follow you to the source. You’re ready to beat the hell out of someone, irritated and hungover. You stomp towards the scout fire where the screaming and yelping comes from, with Arthur following behind you.

The scene in front of you is nothing short of insane. That O’Driscoll from Colter is tied up to a tree. His pants have been pulled down to his knees and you make a point to avert your eyes from his… nether region. His bare quads scrape painfully across the treebark as he fights to get away from Dutch. Your eyes boggle when you see Bill come around the corner of Dutch’s tent with a steaming red pair of gelding tongs.

“What are you idiots doin’ to this poor feller?” You gesture to the O’Driscoll, wincing at the way he shoves himself further into the tree to avoid Bill’s eager tongs.

“We’re takin’ his balls!” Bill laughs maniacally, looking all too pleased at the idea. He snaps the tongs a few times for good measure. Your jaw drops a little, and your eyebrows draw together in a mixture of shock and confusion.

“They’re only balls, boy! You probably weren't using them anyway!” Dutch chuckles, slapping Bill on the back.

“You’re- You’re ‘taking his balls’? Really, Bill? What the hell is this, a farm? Get out of my way. Someone please pull his goddamn pants up.” You sigh, ordering the men around. Bill just looks at you for a moment, but you glare at him, and remembering how hard you can hit, he obliges. You sigh, bracing your hand against your nose as Bill drops the tongs and fixes Kieran’s jeans. Then you push past Bill, shoving him out of the way to take his spot in front of Kieran. The O’driscoll is terrified, shaking like a leaf on the tree as if you’re about to torture him. You eye him over curiously before turning on your heels and looking at the men before you.

“What exactly do y'all want outta this feller?” You question, making a plan to get some answers that doesn’t involve castration. Your hands rest on your gun belt, tapping the grip of your revolver in thought. Dutch’s eyes grow dark as he spits something onto the grass.

“We want Colm.”

Turning back to Kieran, you eye the boy up and down.. He’s a weaker looking fella, the kind you would have stolen off of back in Tumbleweed. He’s terrified, and you know he’ll do anything to avoid a beating, including giving up his old pal, Colm. He’s surely hungry and thirsty. They’ve only been giving him enough water to stay alive, and you don’t know if he’s eaten.

“You hungry mister? Thirsty?” You ask, watching as tears fall down the O’driscolls mud-caked face. He frantically nods his head up and down.

“Oh yes! Yes please, please. I'm so hungry, I- I’m so thirsty, miss.” Kieran whimpers, and you nod. Without another word you push past Arthur, Dutch and Bill, straight to Pearson’s wagon. Arthur looks at Dutch, tossing his hands up lightly before following you. He comes up to your side, watching as you dip a metal cup into the barrel of water. Arthur lightly grabs your elbow to get your attention.

“You sure about this? He could be playin’ you.” Arthur warns.

“Yes, I'm sure. You wanna help? Get me your map.” You say, leaning over the table to grab a piece of salted venison from the table. Arthur isn’t sure about this plan, but he trusts you. He nods, taking his map out of his satchel before following you back to the tree.

“You.” You nod to the O’Driscoll, and he nods frantically, terrified of you, but glad that you’re not approaching him with some torture device.

“Y-yes ma'am?” Kieran whimpers, and you hold the deer and water up.

“You want this?”

Kieran nods, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Good. Point me to Colm n’ you can have it.” You give him an ultimatum, knowing that he would rather deal with you than the boys any day. Kieran nods, flinching as you pull your knife from its sheath. You hold it up in front of him for him to see.

“Try anything, and this’ll be lodged in you, okay?” You warn, moving behind him before cutting him free from the tree. Kieran winces, rubbing at his wrists once he’s free. Dutch and Bill look irritated with you, but you pay them no mind as they file away. Arthur has laid his map out on Pearson’s table, just as you’d asked him to, and Kieran rushes towards it. The O’Driscoll eagerly leans over the map, following the roads with the tip of Arthur’s pencil before stopping and circling a small area north of Valentine.

“They’re holed up here. It- It's called Six Point Cabin, and Colm will be there. It should be easy, they’ll all be drunk and asleep if you go now.” Kieran offers, looking past the horizon where the sun is starting to set. You look at the circle on the map, then up to Kieran. He has many reasons to lie, but you dont think he's loyal to Colm. You don’t think he’s dumb enough to lie to you either. But… just for good measure, you grip onto the collar of his shirt, threateningly.

“If this is a lie, or you’re leading me into a trap, I will let this sick bastard take your manhood. You hear me? All. of. It.” You threaten, pointing to Bill behind you. The O’Driscoll frantically nods his head, audibly gulping at your promise. Quickly, you release him from your grip, dusting his shirt off a little from where your iron grip has left wrinkles.Once he’s been thoroughly threatened, you turn to Arthur, trying to ignore the sickness in your stomach as you hear the starved man gulp down all of the water, and tear into the venison..

“Good! Now that that's settled, John, Arthur, you’re with me. The three of us should be able to get this done quickly.” You tell the men, who are standing in a crowd behind you. John is wide eyed, shocked, but of course, Arthur isn’t. With a smirk, you pace through the wet grass towards Athena. Everyone mounts up and rides out pretty quickly, not wanting to waste another ounce of the limited daylight.

“When we get here, we should do it quietly. Arrows, knives. There’s no reason to start shooting if we can take them out quietly, one at a time.” Arthur yells over the pounding of Balius’ hooves. He’s right, doing this quietly will give you the best chance of getting to Colm before he can run.

“I agree. John, you know how to use a bow?” You ask.

“Ha! Little Johnny Marston over here can’t shoot a bow. Not that I should be surprised, he can’t do much of anything. Can’t even swim.” Arthur pokes, chuckling in his saddle at his own stab.

“Oh shut the hell up you big bastard.” John counters, irritated as usual. It's quiet for a bit as the three of you enter Cumberland Forest, moving into a single file line to fit on the narrow trails.

“How’s your leg holdin’ up?” John yells up to you. Instinctually you trace the scar that's hidden under your jeans.

“It’s fine now, healed up nice for the most part.” You chuckle, hollering back, “How’s your face?”

“Ugly as always.” John chuckles.

“Hey, quiet, I think we’re close.” Arthur says back to you both, slowing Balius down to a trot. You all grow quiet, trotting the horses into the woods and hitching them off of the trail a ways. After dismounting, you offer Athena an oatcake for her work. The boys wait as she finishes it, and then you grab your bow from her saddle. Arthur and John crouch behind a fallen log, and you get down, coming between them.

“That bastard weren’t lyin’.” Arthur whispers to himself, shocked.

The camp has one large cabin surrounded by various tents and wagons. Campfires scatter the place alongside a decent number of drunken idiots. Most of the O’Driscolls have retired for the night, snuffed out their lanterns and hit the hay. Some of them voluntarily went to bed, others passed out, completely wasted. A few O’driscolls with greasy hair and green bandanas sit around a campfire, not far from where you’re all perched.

“Arthur?” You ask, waiting for some instruction. You and John both look to him as he formulates a plan, getting a headcount of the O’Driscolls and peeking around for other vantage points.

“Okay we take out the ones at the fire from here. I count four. I'm good with knives, so I'll take two and you each take one.” Arthur grumbles, pulling out two throwing knives from his satchel. You’re curious if he has the skill to take down two so in such quick succession. If he’s just a split second late, the O’Driscoll will alert others. Glad that your job is easy, you grab your bow from your shoulder, steadying it in your hand as you squint to aim for one of the awake O’Driscolls. You exhale, releasing your hand just before the arrow lodges into the man’s chest. Within two seconds the other three men fall, thanks to John and Arthur.

“Good job with the bow.” Arthur whispers, and your breath hitches in your throat when his hand squeezes your elbow with a small, proud smile. He doesn’t miss the hitch of your breath, and unbeknownst to you, he blushes, removing his hand from you and shaking his head. John looks over to Arthur with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle. Oh, he's gonna chastise Arthur for that later. Rolling your eyes, you glare back at the boys.

“Stop foolin’ around,” You hiss, “We sneak in and look for Colm. I'll take the cabin. John, go see what's worth stealin’ from their tents, but don’t wake anyone up. Arthur, cover me if I need it, please.”

With that you stay crouched, jogging off in the direction of the cabin. You have to step over the sleeping men, and be extra careful not to wake them as you go. Colm better be here. If he’s not, you'll hand that O’Driscoll straight over to Bill tied with a ribbon. You gave him a second chance, and by god, he’d be a fool not to take it.

Approaching the cabin, you take a quick glance through the windows. The glass is very dirty, and even squinting through the dirty glass, you can't see much. There's no light emitting from the cabin, so you assume its empty or everyone is asleep.

You quietly step around to the front porch, hoping that this isn’t one big waste of time. Your spurs click ever so quietly with every step as you approach the front door. You lean down a little, readying your bow in case someone jumps out. Just as you reach out for the door handle, you hear a sharp, quiet whistle, one that you’d recognize anywhere. Your head snaps around and you spot Arthur down a ways in the middle of the camp. He leans his head down a little, warning you to be safe before he gestures to your bow and then to his knife. Despite the fact that hes signaling you without speaking, you know exactly what he’s saying.

He's telling you to put your bow away and pull out your knife instead, you curse yourself, realizing that you’d neglected to use your head. You need two hands to pull the bow, and opening the door leaves you vulnerable. The knife is a better option. You nod to Arthur in thanks, and swing your bow back over your shoulder before grabbing your hunting knife. You pull it out of its sheath, readying it as you grip the door handle. You hear a loud grunt from the camp, and as you snap your head over you see that one of the O’Driscolls had woken up, and Arthur knocked him out. You need to hurry.

With one hand gripping your blade, the other turns the door knob. You push it open quickly, holding up your knife in defense. It's pitch dark inside the cabin, and it takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust as you step inside. The cabin is pretty standard, across from you is a fireplace, a large table and some bedrolls laid out. You step further into the cabin and find two half-empty bowls on the table. They’re filled with some sort of mushy, brown looking stew, and they’re still steaming…

You connect the dots too late. By the time you whip around, the men who were hiding in the shadows of the cabin slam the door shut so you can’t escape. Your eyes grow dark, and you back up as they step towards you until your back hits the far wooden wall. The two O’Driscolls are tall. They could be twins, black hair hidden away by bowler’s hats, green scarves around their thick necks. They repulse you.

“Get back you bastards, ‘less you wanna end up like your sorry friends.” You threaten, holding your knife up in warning. The bigger one chuckles while the smaller one slides a chair under the handle of the door.

“Oh, Gabe, she’s a fiery little thing.” He says with a sickening, greedy grin on his lips. You hear Arthur try the door knob, cursing that it’s locked.

“Anyone touches a hair on her goddamn head I’ll kill the whole lot of ya!” Arthur yells from behind the door. You can hear him dropping his weapons, and you know he’s going to try to kick the door down, but he won't be able to with the chair. You’re on your own.

“She’s a little one. She’ll be easy to handle,” The other man says before directing his attention to you, bringing up his knife and running it along the jut of your cheekbone. Your knife is in your hand, hidden behind your back as you come up with a plan to take them both down. You know his threat isn’t empty. You know what the O’driscolls have done to women, proudly, with no shame. You’ll be damned if you go down without a fight.

“Hey, sweet thing, is that your man out there? Cause I want him to hear what we're gonna do to y-” You take a deep breath before plunging your knife into the man’s throat with a roar. Blood shoots out from his jugular, spraying all over you. Just as quickly as you had inserted it, you tear it out, and he falls to the floor, clinging to his neck. The sound of flesh tearing sounds through the room as you aim for the second man. Just as you bring the knife down towards his chest he catches your hands. You can hear the loud, angry thumps and screams of Arthur trying to beat the door down, along with his string of threats and curses towards the O’Driscolls. Shots ring out from around you, presumably you’ve woken up the entire O’Driscoll camp and now John is dealing with them. You struggle against the man for a while, as you try to push the knife down into him, and he tries to turn it around. Arthur gives up on the door, instead running around the side of the building to smash in one of the windows. He doesn’t know what's happening, he can't see who’s winning this fight, or what's happening to you, all he knows is that you’re struggling and yelling. As the glass shatters, you hesitate, letting your guard down. A painful sting slices along your abdomen, and you glance down to see that the man has cut your stomach through your shirt. It’s not very deep, but it could have been.

“You goddamn bastard!” You hiss as the O’Driscoll backs away. He smirks, watching you struggle. Arthur wastes no time jumping through the shattered window before running and tackling the O’Driscoll to the ground. Arthur starts beating the O’Driscoll, knocking chairs and items down, and after he gets a few punches in, Arthur smashes the mans head against the wall, killing or knocking him out.

“Colm aint even here!” You seethe, holding a hand against your stomach to ease the sting. Arthur looks up, seeing you covered in a spatter of blood. Immediately, he rushes over to you.

“How much of this blood is yours?” He asks, running his eyes down your shirt until he sees the tear in it.

“Not much of it, I’m fine Arthur, just a scratch.” You sigh, looking down at your destroyed shirt, “Shit.”

It was a good shirt, and now it’ll be joining the burn pile when you get back to camp. You groan, realizing you’ll have to ride back to camp like this.

“Is John okay? And where the hell is Colm?” You ask, pulling up your shirt a bit to look over the cut. It’s just over the lip of your jeans, not deep, but a few inches wide. You won’t need stitches, thankfully.

“Johns fine, lootin the camp now, and who knows where the hell Colm is.” Arthur says, eyes fixated on the bleeding patch of skin in between your jeans and shirt.

“You think that boy Kieran set us up?” Arthur asks, making a mental note to buy you some poultice, considering how much you use it.

“No. He’s not that stupid, or that brave. Don’t think he wants to lose his balls just yet.” Arthur chuckles. He motions for you to follow him out, but you raise your finger up signaling him to wait.

“All this, and we ain’t gonna rob the place?” You ask, and Arthur watches as you climb over the scattered items and corpses. As if you knew exactly where it was going to be, you walk up to the chimney, reach into it and pull out a wad of cash. Quickly, you run your fingers through the folds, counting six hundred dollars. Arthur huffs, forever amused by you, especially as you walk towards him and then stop. You turn on your heels, looking up to the double barrelled shotgun resting on the mantle, and with a satisfied hum, you strut right over and pluck it from the wall.

“Okay now we can go.” You say, walking past Arthur with a smile, soaked in blood.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Arthur mumbles, whispering the last part before you glare at him .

— — — —

You’d stopped in Valentine on the way back, breaking off from Arthur and John to take a bath at the hotel. You’d taken your time, using almost every bath soap and oil just to try them out. Each one smelled so good, it was well into the night before you’d finished. It was a refresher that you needed, and deserved. With a new hundred dollar bill in your pocket from the job, you’d rented a room for the rest of the night, and then bought yourself some new clothes in the morning. You picked out a nicer outfit than usual, a dark burgundy shirt, over the shoulder styled with ruffles on your arms. It’s beautiful, and fancy, something you’re not used to. You tucked the shirt into a new pair of black jeans, and smiled contentedly in the mirror before braiding your hair down your back and heading back to camp.

Much to your surprise, Arthur convinced the boys to let Kieran live, and to keep his manhood. Now as you peel potatoes next to Sadie at Pearson’s table, you watch him talk to and pet Athena with a small smile. Sadie follows your gaze, scoffing.

“You should have just killed him. Can’t trust any of those damn O’Driscolls.” She hisses, garing daggers at the man, causing him to tremble lightly as he feeds Athena a mint.

“He ain’t hurtin’ nothing. Sides, same thing could be said about us.” You point out, and Sadie doesn’t argue back, but she shakes her head in disapproval. You haven’t seen much of her since meeting in Colter. She’s kept to herself, hid amongst the shadows and cried herself to sleep most nights. You can see her bottling up, hardening. She’s turning into you

“Star?”

You look up, drawn out of your thoughts to see Abigail smiling down at you. There is a subtle redness to her eyes that indicates she’s been crying, and your eyebrows draw together in worry.

“Everything okay?” You ask, standing from your seat and dropping your knife to the table.

“Could we talk for a minute?” She asks, a hand sheepishly toying with a piece of her hair.

“Course… What’s goin’ on?” You ask, smiling back to Sadie in an apology before following Abigail towards her tent.

“Well, it's the boy.” Abigail says, biting on her nails as she leads you into her A-frame. Before the flap falls closed, you glance out of the tent to see Jack playing with a toy horse. He seems fine, just playing as children his age do. You look at her, confused, as she sits down on the corner of his tent.

“He’s real sad, Star.” Abigail exhales, tears forming in her eyes that she pushes back, “John don’t- John don’t really care about him like a father should.” Abigail sighs, and you move to sit on the open space beside her.

“Arthur’s always been there for Jack, even when John left…” Abigail says, and you make a note to ask Arthur about it, you don’t recall hearing of John leaving.

“I'm sorry to ask, and I know it’s unfair to, but could you or Arthur take him somewhere, or do somethin’ with him? He looks up to you both so much.” Abigail explains, and you place your hand over hers, nodding. You can’t imagine how she does it all. This life is an unkind one, and raising a child amidst it? You’re sure it's tough. Your heart aches for Jack, and you understand the pain of wanting to be loved by a father that chooses his life over his kids.

“Of course, Abigail, I’d be happy to. I miss Jack, haven’t gotten to chat with him in a while.” You explain, and Abigail smiles bittersweet.

“Thank you so much, I’ll owe you.”

“Nonsense, you don't owe me nothin, this’ll be fun. Let me find Arthur, we still have some time before dark.” You respond, pushing the tent flaps open before walking out. The sun is just beginning to set over the mountains, and you reckon that you have a few hours yet. You manage to find Arthur carrying a bale of hay across the camp, and he drops it to the ground in front of the horses.

“Ride with me?” You call to him, and he looks over at you, pausing for a moment to take in your new shirt, and the neat braid running down your back.

“Course, always.”Arthur says, entranced by the way you look in the dark red blouse. He debates telling you that you look beautiful, but decides that it would sound odd, so he coughs awkwardly and follows you.

“Where we goin’?” He asks, dusting some hay splinters off of his hands.

“That's up to you, mister. We’re takin’ Jack out.” You say excitedly, leading him towards the boulder where the boy sits. Arthur watches as you sort of skip along, smiling to himself.

“How about fishin’?” Arthur asks, and you stop dead in your tracks, turning around to squint at him.

“You gotta take a lady and a child out for fun and you wanna fish?” You ask, lost on his decision. But Arthur looks pretty excited, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well sure, fishin’ is fun.” Arthur defends, covering his heart in mock pain.

“Yeah and so is dysentery, are you serious?” You huff, chuckling with a shocked expression. Arthur looks at you like he can’t fathom why anybody would think fishing to be boring.

“Fine, we’ll go fishing, but you gotta do something that's actually fun with me later.” You chuckle, approaching Jack. He’s playing with a wooden horse, a sad little frown on his face.

“Hey buddy, do you like fishin’?” You ask him immediately, kneeling down to his level. He looks up to you almost offended.

“Aunt Star, fish are smelly! I hate fishing!” He says, looking up to you with drawn together eyebrows.

“Well we’re goin’ fishin, so go get your pole off of Uncle Hosea.” Arthur says, and Jack sighs, stomping off towards Hosea’s tent.

“Arthur Morgan.” You chastise, looking at him with an open jaw.

“What? It’ll be good for him, he’s practically the man of the house now, considerin’ John’s contributions-” Arthur starts, sarcastically and you swat his chest to shut him up.

“Go get on your horse with your damn pole, I’ll meet you over there.” You sigh, waiting for Jack to come back with his little pole. You smile sweetly at him as he jogs back towards you, a grumpy little frown on his face.

“I don’t even know how to fish that good, but at least I get to stay up past my bedtime!” Jack says, handing his pole out to you, “Can I ride with you? Uncle Arthur’s horse looks scary…” Jack mumbles, looking at the huge black stallion with trepidation. You chuckle, thinking that Athena is definitely more of a force to be reckoned with, but you trust her.

“Sure buddy, c’mon.” You nudge him towards the horses with your hand. Arthur has the horses all tacked up, and is tightening the last cinch on Athena’s saddle when you approach him. You climb up into the saddle first, sliding back as far as you can against the seat, and then Arthur lifts Jack up with a groan, placing him down right in front of you.

“You got a spot picked out?” You ask, turning Athena towards the trail out of camp while Arthur mounts up.

“Yeah, head down to the Dakota, there's a nice spot down by the bank.”

Per Jack’s request, you lope down the slope towards the river. You make sure to keep Athena at a very slow, steady pace so that Jack doesn’t lose his balance. Athena seems to be aware of the fragile life on her back, and takes extra soft steps. Jack giggles the whole time, a belly aching laughter as he hangs on to the horn in front of you for dear life. He’s upset when you have to slow down, but grateful for the fun that it was.

“Here should do.” Arthur says, pulling Balius off the road. He’s chosen a spot in the river with a deep pool off the bank, a nice spot. The grass comes down almost to the water, and wildflowers and big rocks scatter around the area, creating a perfectly peaceful resting spot. It’s a perfect place to read or chat, but of course you’re here to catch fish. Arthur dismounts, coming over and lifting Jack down from the saddle onto the grass. You follow, and both of the horses step aside to munch on the sweet grass.

“Either of you know how to fish?” Arthur asks, hands resting on his gun belt. You and Jack both shake your heads and Arthur nods, moving firstly to Jack. You stay quiet, watching on as Arthur adds a worm to Jack’s hook. He shows Jack how to do it, and then gets him cast out into the water. Despite his predisposition to fishing, Jack seems rather proud of himself

“Real good, Jack!” Arthur smiles, patting Jack on the shoulder. You conclude that he must have been an incredible father, it all comes so naturally to him. Jack looks up to Arthur, so proud of himself, and your heart aches for the whole situation.

“Now, when you got a bite, let me know. We can reel it in together.” Arthur says, nodding to Jack before coming towards you.

“I think I’m gonna sit this one out, Arthur” You chuckle, and Arthur nods.

“Fair enough.”

Jack waits for a long while next to Arthur, and both have their backs faced to you as you sit in the grass behind them. You pluck some pieces of grass from the dirt, and then bored, you grab your little journal. Arthur and Jack talk about nothing and everything at the same time, waiting for something to bite. Eventually, Arthur gets a catch, and he shows Jack how to gut and store it, and then they’re back to waiting. The whole process is a bit mind numbing for you, and your attention is focused solely on the pages of your journal as you update it.

New horses, new blacksmith, and a newfound sobriety after the other night. Lots of things are changing, and yet lots remain the same. It's a confusing thing, and I find myself so caught up in between what I should do and what I want that I fear it’s breaking me in two. Honestly, its getting harder to tell the two apart any-

Your pen stills, as you look up to where Arthur and Jack stand. You’re sure you heard what he’s just said, but still you find yourself analyszing it.

“Y’know I taught another boy to fish once.” Arthur says quietly, head turning towards Jack. Jack looks up at Arthur with his eyebrows drawn together, mirroring exactly your expression.

“Lenny?” The boy asks, and Arthur chuckles, recasting his line.

“No, not Lenny. This was long before I even met Lenny. Hell, before you was born too.” Arthur sighs, recounting just how many years it's been. Sometimes he’s grateful that his life doesn’t require the modern calendar. The passing of time would be far too painful if he was more aware of it. Jack’s confusion turns to excitement, as he once again misinterprets Arthur’s words.

“Oh! What is his name? Could I meet him? I’d like to have a friend…” Jack says, not quite old enough to understand the passing of time, and the growth of children to adults. He’s never been around other children before, and you can’t blame him for his naivete. Arthur’s head dips down, and a bittersweet smile tugs at his lips. You watch on, connecting the dots with an ache in your heart.

“Nah, don’t think you’ll be able to meet him, buddy. He woulda liked you though, was only a few years older than you.” Arthur whispers, swallowing thickly as a fish tugs on his line. He doesn’t even bother to reel it, staring blankly across the river, lost in thought.

“Oh. What happened to him, Uncle Arthur?” Jack asks innocently, pulling on his rod too quickly while trying to attract a fish.

“He passed away.” Arthur mumbles, and the night grows silent save for the buzzing of frogs and the quiet splashes of water. Arthur gives Jack a few more pointers, but after a bit, Jack is tired of fishing, and he sets his pole down, yawning as he walks over towards you.

“I’m bored now.” Jack states, sitting beside you while plucking a few wildflowers from the grass, “Maybe I’ll make a flower necklace for momma.”

Smiling at the kid, soothed by the sounds of Arthur’s pole splashing in the river, you lean back against a boulder, looking up at the night sky. It’s still early, and streaks of orange and red paint the sky alongside dark blue. It’s a beautiful night, and even though its early, you can still point out a few weak constellations.

“What are you looking at, Aunt Star?” Jack asks, curiously tiptoeing towards you with a bundle of flowers in his hand. He plops down right beside you, sitting against your waist as he starts to weave the flower stems together. Now Arthur is the one eavesdropping, pole dipping into the water as he listens to you and Jack’s conversation.

“Oh, the stars, I guess.” You chuckle, thinking that you find yourself answering that question with the same answer frequently. But you just can’t help but eye them, they’re so beautiful, so free. Jack yawns, leaning his head against you as his fingers slow down on his little project.

“You like looking at stars, don't you?” Jack asks, eyes never leaving his flower necklace. Arthur chuckles, asking you the same question in his head. They seem to follow you like a trail, leaving star-shaped kisses on your heart.

“Yeah, I do. I think they’re fun to watch. Aren’t they just beautiful?” You ask, watching as the whole sky twinkles and flickers. Jack nods, yawning again.

“They sure are.”

You watch them for a while, occasionally glancing ahead to watch the slopes of Arthur’s back as he packs up his fishing pole, retiring for the night. After everything is all packed, he starts to make his way towards the two of you. Jack snores lightly against you, and surprised, you look down to find him asleep. Arthur smiles at this before sitting down against the rock at your side with a groan. He rests against your side opposite of Jack, and as he takes his hat off, dropping it to the ground, your hand reaches out to rest over his knee.

“Y’okay?” You ask, turning your head to gauge his eyes. Arthur’s eyebrows draw together, and he nods.

“Sure, why?”

“That must have been hard to talk about.” You nod towards the bank, recalling Arthur’s memory to the conversation about Isaac. Arthur sighs deeply, removing the weight of the world off his shoulders as his hand covers your own on his knee.

“It’s gettin’ easier.” He admits, but his eyes are far away, lost somewhere decades ago.

“Tell me about him.” You invite, leaving the decision up to him. You won’t be upset if he chooses not to talk about it, you understand isolation better than most. But if he chooses to open up, you’ll be there. A supporter, a friend, an ear, whatever he needs.

“There’s a lot to tell…” Arthur huffs, squeezing your hand lightly.

“We got time, if you’re comfortable.” You whisper, hand instinctively running up and down Jack’s sleeping back. Arthur nods, tongue darting out over his lips for a moment. He’s never told anyone the full story before, but as he looks into your warm, familiar eyes, he knows he can trust you.

“About fifteen years ago we was stayin’ in this town, we were there for a while,” Arthur toys with your hands, avoiding your eyes, “Got to know this waitress, god- she was just a kid, only eighteen at the time… Eliza was her name. We had- well it was nothin’ special, just someone to spend the night with. First time it happened we were both drunk, both hurtin’. Then everytime I was in town I’d stop by her place.” Arthur shakes his head, disappointed in his actions, “It was wrong, but we were young and stupid and lookin’ to feel somethin’ other than hurt I guess.” Arthur whispers, a crease in his forehead from the way his eyebrows are drawing together in pain. You squeeze his hand gently, letting him know you’re still present and listening before he continues.

“One day, after we’ve been doin’ this a while, I rode up and I just knew somethin’ was wrong… Said she was pregnant, said it was mine.” Arthur brings his knee up, resting his arm on it as he recalls memories that he has spent years shoving down, “I knew it was. I didn’t know what to do, I was so lost, Star. I knew I wanted to do right by her, so I made sure she had enough money so she wouldn’t have to work no more…”

You lean your head against Arthur’s shoulder as he runs his thumb over your knuckles. You’re terrified of the end of this story, and you wish there were something you could do to ease his pain.

“I wasn’t ready to be a dad- not in the least. I had no role model worth a damn, and I was so afraid of turnin’ into my daddy…” He whispers, and your eyes glance to his hat on the ground, and the new accessory adorning it.

“But then he was born.” Arthur chuckles, a little huff at some good memory in his head, “He looked just like me, and he was growin’ so fast.” Arthur has a joyful smile on his lips, but it dies out the longer he stays silent, thinking about the next chapter to Isaac’s life.

“I stopped by when I could, always brought him somethin’ from my travels… He’d get so excited when I rode up, Eliza was always hollerin’ after him for runnin’ out the house.” Arthur whispers, an ache in his red eyes.

“I taught him how to write, how to draw, even how to fish and ride. My lord, did that kid love horses.” Arthur huffs a chuckle, “Boadicea especially, she was just under saddle then, a handful of years… He named her- named her after a queen from one of the books I read him. He liked history too. He was such a good kid, Isaac. Smart like his momma and stubborn as all hell like his daddy.”

The smile from fond memories fade away, and are replaced by an old pain. One so deep that you know you could never attempt to reach the bottom. His hand shakes lightly, encased over your own, and he swallows thickly, looking down at his lap.

“One day I was goin’ back like always, but this time I had a real big surprise for him. Saved up for a long while n’ got him his first pony, a chestnut like Bo, his favorite… I rode up the trail, it had been about a month, soon as I got up the path I saw two crosses out front and I just knew.”

Tears trail down your cheeks, and you squeeze Arthur’s hand. It’s all you can do to let him know you're here, feeling this with him. He knows. You’re here, and that's more than enough. Jack is still blissfully asleep in your arms as Arthur finds the strength to continue, unshed tears in his eyes that he won’t allow to fall.

“Found her daddy, he said some gang had come through. Robbed n’ killed them for ten goddamn dollars,” Arthur inhales deeply, and that tear finally falls as he whispers, “And Star- his grave plot was so small. He was there and then he wasn’t, and poor Eliza. She deserved so much better than that, than what I provided, they both did…” Arthur regains his composure, hiding his face from you as he sniffs and wipes the tear away.

“I fell hard into the bottle after that, didn’t come back up for a long while.”

Arthur looks over at you then, and at the sleeping boy in the crook of your arm. You’re shocked, speechless, and hurting for a loss that you never had to grieve. The trauma that Arthur’s gone through, the loss, and he still gives so much, he has such a big heart and yours aches for his.

“Arthur I- I’m so sorry.” You breathe out, tear tracks running down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry you’ve had to carry that alone.”

Sitting in silence for a few moments, offering eachother little glances and touches of support, a question pops into your head.

“You a religious man, Arthur?” You ask, looking up to him from against his shoulder. His eyebrows pull together, not expecting this question as he shakes his head.

“I don’t know, not really.” He explains, having heard a lot about church and god, but never having actually listened, “Why, you believe in all that?” he asks.

“I believe that some way or another, we all get what we deserve in the end, whether that be redemption or mercy or suffering. And kids? They gotta be granted somethin’ good.” You mumble, thinking about it all. Arthur purses his lips, placing his hat back on his head as he looks down at you.

“N’ what about folks like us? What do we deserve?” Arthur asks, looking at your intertwined hands. You could have pulled away by now, but you haven’t. You sigh, contemplating his loaded question before coming up empty handed.

“I don’t know.”

Arthur nods, holding your hand up to exaggerate the fact that you’re holding his hand, pressed into his side.

“What are we doin’ here, Star?” Arthur finally asks, a question that has been on his lips for a while. You bite your lip nervously, looking at your intertwined hands before pulling yours back, and placing it over Jack’s sleeping form.

“It’s nothing, Arthur.” You say plainly, anxiety panging in your chest at his directness, and he sighs.

“Is it?”

“Arthur, stop.” You warn, wanting the conversation to be over. You don’t want to talk about this, not now, not here.

“Why do you keep closin’ up on me?” Arthur begs, having just poured his heart out to you, and you can’t manage to speak to him about anything. You don't speak, eyes purposely avoiding Arthur as your cheeks burn red. You want to cry, to scream, to tell him everything, but you can’t. You can’t because people you love get hurt, and people you love hurt you. Arthur sighs, watching as tears pool in your eyes. He’ll wait.

You’re about to wake up Jack, to take him back home. Just as you start to move, a pair of horses trots down the road, pulling off the bank where you sit. Arthur is up in a second, confronting the people riding up in the night. It happens so shockingly quickly that you don’t even have time to ask questions. Jack stirs awake, confused and sleepy as you shove him behind you.

“Good evening! I’m Agent Milton, this is Agent Ross.” A man calls out, climbing down from his branded chestnut morgan. His uniform is identical to his partner’s, stamped with a damning Pinkerton Detective Agency seal, and you gasp.

“Mr. Morgan, and you,” The bald man, Milton, looks to you then, scowling, “I hear they call you Star now, right? Though it’s not the name on the bounty poster, is it?” He chuckles, humorless. Then, he gestures to Jack hiding behind your legs.

“I’d ask if he’s the both of yours, but you ain’t been riding with these degenerates long enough.” The agent nods to you, as you fume.

“Tell me, Mr. Morgan. Did you coax this poor woman into joining you? Did you tell her all about your philosophy? Your code? Or was that all old Dutch?”

“What do you want?” You hiss, ready to kill these men. Your hand has flickered to your holster more than once, but you hesitate, not wanting Jack to see.

“We want Dutch. You give us him and we'll clear your names. You know what they say about a king-less monarchy, hmm?” Ross says. Arthur steps forward then, feigning innocence.

“We ain’t seen Dutch, not in a long while.” Arthur explains, but Milton chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah that’s what Mac Callander said too, before I shot him, it was really more of a mercy kill.” Milton hisses, and your jaw falls. Arthur is filled with rage, hands clenched tightly as he holds back for Jack’s sake.

“He didn’t talk though, don’t worry.” Ross chuckles, walking back towards his horse.

“You best think over our offer, you’re running out of time.” Ross hisses, climbing back onto his horse.

“Have a good night, kid. You don’t got many more of them.” Milton addresses Jack, and you shove the boy behind you as they gallop off.

“Arthur-” You exhale, shocked and terrified. The Pinkertons have caught up, and if they’ve chased you this far, you doubt they’ll ever stop.

“This ain’t good. We better get the boy home, talk with Dutch. He ain’t gonna be happy about this.” Arthur says, low with a dark edge. Nervously, you watch them ride off.

“You think we’re gonna have to move again? We just got here.” You exhale, emotional at the thought of leaving. This is one of the first places you’ve felt at home in a long time.

“I don’t know. C’mon, we’ll get Jack back and see.”

— — — —

Dutch isn’t worried about the Pinkertons. No, he's furious. He sees it as some personal stab at his ego. Your eyes roll, sitting beside Arthur outside of Dutch’s tent.

“I don’t think you understand, Dutch, they know where we are. They killed Mac.” Arthur growls, trying to get Dutch to see reason. But Dutch’s mind is clouded by delusions of grandeur. He believes he can win the fight against the agency, and you think he’s a fool.

“They’re testing us, son. They’re pushing us. They think they can herd us? Me? They’re wrong. We are NOT abiding by the rules to their twisted games. We are staying here!” Dutch yells, and Arthur sighs, begging Dutch to cut his loses, but the man is insistent. Arthur tries to speak, but Dutch cuts him off, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Son, in the morning I need you to go get Sean. We are not losing anyone else.” Dutch orders, then he moves towards the fire where John is. You and Arthur share a worried glance before following him.

“John! Gather what you need, we are HITTING THAT TRAIN!” Dutch calls out, smiling brightly as if his master plan is falling together, “Watch them try to control this crew. We’ll hit their bounty hunters, hit their train in the same goddamn day. This is going to be beautiful.”

Your stomach turns as you recall Dutch’s orders about needing your level head on the robbery. You have a bad feeling about this train, a real bad one. But as John and Arthur start packing to head in separate directions tomorrow, you realize that there’s no way out of it. You’re a van der Linde now, and you follow his orders.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan angst #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic

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