#john “yes ma'am” marston

[daisydood]

all the red dead women are literally the best like oh my god what do you mean abigail is annoying or mary is manipulative they are all goddesses idk what ure talking about. like if any of them ask someone to do something i expect a yes maam from the character theyre talking to

[moonlightkitties]

You're Your Father's Daughter - Red Dead Redemption Reader Insert (Part Eight)

Plot: You, Arthur and Jack try to have a peaceful fishing trip but get interrupted by two men who claim to be Pinkerton Agents.

Word Count: 2k+

Mission: "A Fisher of Men"

Rain was pouring on your tent when you woke up; the sound of raindrops on the fabric of your tent was soothing, but the cold chill of Horseshoe Overlook was not. You grumbled and pulled your blanket closer to your body, trying to block the wind out. The flaps of your tent were swinging in the wind, and since you couldn’t go back to sleep, you sat up, put your boots on, grabbed your hat, and walked out of your tent to see if anything needed to be done.

Arthur and John were busy talking about something and what's a better way to waste time then annoying your older brothers?

"What's going on?" You asked, poking John in the side. He jumped, and swatted your hand away "Nothing that involves you," he said. You pouted "Aw, come on, you can tell me." John shook his head "No" he said, his voice stern. You looked at Arthur "What's going on?" Arthur rolled his eyes "A train job, but you ain't coming."

"What? Why? You saw me in Strawberry, I'm a good shot," you said. Arthur sighed "That's exactly why you ain't goin', just stay here and" he sighed and let out a grumble "I don't know, spend some time with Jack," he finished "Sure, because everyone knows his actual father doesn't." John glared at you and Arthur shot you a warning stare, telling you to back off "Jus' sayin" you shrug, making your way towards Abigail and Jack.

"Hey Jacky" you say, sitting beside him "Good morning, Auntie (y/n)!" You smiled "You wanna do something today?" he looked up from his toys and nodded "Yeah!" Abigail walked in as you and Jack were discussing what to do "What are you two kids doin'?" she asked, sitting on her cot "I wanna do somethin' with Jack today" you tell her "But we're havin' trouble figuring that somethin' out." Abigail smiled "Well that's very kind of you, but I don't really want Jack out in this rain." You looked outside the tent, it was still raining heavily, "Well, we can stay in camp and do something, anything you want Jack." He smiled, and you studied his face, you never noticed how much he looked like John.

"Can we go on a ride?" Jack asked, looking at Abigail "Please, momma?" Abigail sighed "A short one, if she wants to take you" she said, looking at you. You smiled "Of course, I've been meaning to take Whiskey out anyways." Abigail nodded "Just please stay around camp," you gave her a nod "Yes, ma'am."

You lifted Jack up off the ground and put him in front of Whiskey, you held onto him and led her away from camp. The rain was stopping, it was just a gentle drizzle. "How have you been?" you asked him, stopping at the lake that was a few feet from camp.

"I've been good" he told you. "You glad Uncle Sean's back?" you asked, dismounting Whiskey and helping Jack down "Yeah! I've missed him!" You smiled fondly at watching him pick up some flowers "What do you need flowers for?" you ask bending down to his level "I wanna make a necklace for momma!" he exclaimed, showing you the tiny yellow and red flowers he picked. "You're such a sweet kid," you said, ruffling his head. He smiled and went back to picking flowers.

After a few moments of silence and watching Jack pick flowers, the rain started up again "Come on, Jack! The rain's getting pretty heavy and your momma is gonna want you back at camp." Jack stood up and you helped him on Whiskey, she snorted, annoyed by the rain and you made her gallop, so you could get back to camp faster.

You lifted Jack off of Whiskey and set him down on the ground once you got to camp. He ran to Abigail to show her the necklace he made. Someone wrapped their hands around your waist and you jumped but relaxed when it was just Sean "I've been lookin' for ya, love" he whispered, kissing your neck. You smiled "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Marston told me bout'a train job," he said, leading away from the main area of camp "So?" you asked "So… I was goin' t' go with 'im, an' I wanted ya t' join," he said, squeezing your sides. You shook your head "Nah, I'm exhausted from yesterday's dramatic shootout," you told him "But tell me how it goes." Sean let out a disappointed sigh "Alright, love" he said, kissing your neck a few more times before leaving to go over to the horses.

You sat down at a table, Molly walked over to you and you greeted her with a smile. "Whats up?" you asked "Do you know if Dutch is okay? He hasn't spoke to me in a while," she asked, a hint of concern and sadness laced her voice. Your frowned, Dutch was a busy guy but he shouldn't be ignoring her like this. "I'm sorry, Molly" you tell her "You really don't deserve him." Molly sighed "I love your father, I really do, he just worries me." You nodded, understanding "I know, I'll talk to him for you if you want me to."

-------

It was late at night whenever Sean and the others got back from the train job. You felt your cot dip and groggily opened your eyes to see Sean taking his clothes off. "How was it?" you asked, sitting up. Sean gave you a smile "Fine" he said "Got a knock on me head, but it was a good score."

"That's good" you said but looked at him "Is your head okay?" you asked, snuggling into him as he laid down "Fine as ever," he said with a soft chuckle, petting your head gently. You were lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat and the gentle strokes of him petting your hair.

-------

When you awoke, Sean was still sleeping beside you. A soft smile was planted on your face, he was so peaceful, you wanted to spend your entire life with him. You quietly made your way out of the tent and spotted Abigail talking with Arthur. Once you got over to them Arthur gave you a nod "I'm takin' Jack fishing, ya wanna come with us?" You nodded "Yeah, just give me a second." Going over to your tent, you picked up your rod and your hat. Sean was awake and he pulled you onto his lap and nuzzled into your neck.

"Where ya goin' love?" he asked "Fishing with Jack and Arthur" you said, kissing along his jawline. He chuckled "Don't start things ya can't finish love" he said, a glimmer of mischief in his green eyes. You let out a giggle of laughter and give him a kiss before getting up "Oi! Wait" he said, grabbing your hand. You turned to him "Yeah?" he grinned "I want ta do somethin' with ya soon" he said "Just the two of us." You smiled "Like what exactly?" you asked, Sean shrugged "I dunno yet, but I'll tell you as soon as I figure it out."

After your conversation with Sean, you and Arthur rode out down to the lake where you took Jack yesterday.

You dismounted Whiskey and followed Arthur to the lake "Me and Auntie (y/n) came here yesterday" Jack said, as Arthur handed him is rod. "Is that so?" Arthur asked, grabbing his own rod from his satchel. "Yeah! I made momma a necklace!"

Following Arthur and Jack to the lake, you watched as Arthur taught Jack the proper way to fish and how to perfectly reel a hooked fish in. You took out your own rode and stood beside Arthur. "So, how are you holdin' up?" he asked, reeling in his second catch of the day. You shrug "I'm doing good," you told him. "When do you think we're going to move camp?" You asked, struggling to reel in a fish that got hooked on your line. "I dunno," Arthur replied, looking around to keep an eye on Jack "Dutch wants us to do another score before we head out but I don't think it's the right idea."

"Well, he's right if he wants us to leave camp soon, the Pinkertons are gonna catch on to us soon," you say, anxiety weighing down on your chest.

Jack called Arthur over to look at something he made. You felt something bite your rode and you reeled it in. It was a small bass but it was fish nonetheless.

"Arthur! Look what I-" your voice trailed off once you saw two men walking over towards Arthur and Jack. You quickly made your way over to them but Arthur stepped in front of you shielding yourself and Jack from them.

"Arthur Isn't it? Arthur Morgan?" the man wearing a red bowler hat asked, walking towards the three of you.

"Who are you?" Arthur asked, the man ignored him and continued speaking. You did not trust him, not one bit. "Yes, Arthur Morgan, Van Der Linde's most trusted associate," the man glanced at you, his eyes showing curiosity. "Who are you?" he asked, you froze and Arthur glanced at you.

"Pip Montgomery," you blurted out.

"Pip Montgomery?" the man repeated, you nodded "Yes sir," you told him. The man shook his head, and looked back at Arthur "Agent Milton," he said, introducing himself and he pointed to the other man beside him, who wore a black bowler hat "Agent Ross." The men walked closer to you and Arthur and told the pair of you that they were Pinkerton Agents. Your heart dropped, how did they find you already??

"You're a wanted man, Mr. Morgan," Agent Milton told him, "There's five thousand dollars for your head alone," he finished.

"Five thousand dollars?" Arthur scoffed, "For me? Can I turn myself in?"

"We wan't Van Der Linde."

"Old Dutch? I haven't seen him for months."

"Is that so?" Milton asked "Because I heard, a guy fitting his description robbed a train, belonging to Leviticus Cornwall up near Granite Pass."

Arthur shuffled around, you could tell he was nervous.

"Well ain't that a little old fashioned nowadays?"

"Listen," Milton walked up to Arthur and got inches closer to his face "This is my offer, Mr. Morgan, bring in Van der Linde, and you have my word, you won't swing."

"Oh I ain't gonna swing anyways, Agent, um.."

"Milton."

"You see, I haven't done anything wrong," Arthur snapped "Aside from not play the games to your rules."

Milton rolled his eyes, "Spare me the philosophy lesson, I've already heard it from Mac Callander."

You let out a small gasp and glanced at Arthur, who's eyes widen.

Milton smirked at our response, "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 growled and threw his rod on the ground. Agent Ross threw his gun up at him, pointing at him. Jack gasped and your mouth was agape. You've never seen Arthur so mad.

"You like being a rich man's toy, do ya?" he yelled, venom laced in his voice.

"I like society, flaws and all," Milton said, "You people venerate savagery and you will die savagely. All of you."

"Oh, we're all gonna die, Agent," Arthur said, his voice a mocking laugh.

"Some of us sooner than others," Milton responded. Milton turned around, and started walking away, "Have a good day Mr. Morgan."

"You better spend more time with your father, Miss Van der Linde, he may not be alive for much longer."

Your heart stopped. What did he mean by that and how did he find out your name?

"Enjoy your fishing kid, while you still can," Agent Ross told Jack, putting his gun away and following Milton to their horses.

"Who are they?" Jack asked, Arthur pushed him gently away and towards our own horses. "No one to worry about, no one at all."

The three of you rode back to camp in silence. Well, Arthur and Jack talked, but you were silent. Once you got to camp, you dismounted Whiskey and followed Arthur to Dutch's tent while Jack made his way over to Abigail and John.

"We got a problem," Arthur said, looking around to make sure he was out of sight. Dutch looked up from his book "I just met some guys down by the river, a fella named erm, Milton and erm, I don't remember the other fella's name." Arthur was pacing, his arms were flailing around. "And?" Dutch asked. "And their from the Pinkerton Detective Agency and they know about the train and they know we're here!" Arthur snapped.

"Were you followed back?" Dutch asked, standing up. "No, they know we're near here and they want you Dutch, they offered me my freedom in exchange for you."

"Why didn't you take it?" Dutch asked.

"Hah, very funny," Arthur sarcastically said, "Well what do we do now?" Arthur asked.

A few moments of silence passed through Dutch and Arthur.

"I say we do nothing, just yet," Dutch told him, "They're just tryin' to scare us, into doing something stupid."

"And if they find us?" You asked, interrupting him.

"Their not," Dutch said. "We have turned a corner, we have survived them mountains, we just need to stay calm."

Arthur nodded, agreeing, you were still doubtful. Dutch walked away, leaving the pair of you alone. "He's being stupid," you whispered to Arthur, "They are going to find us, and when they do their not going to be nice about it." Arthur shook his head "I know you're worried, but Dutch know's what he's talking about." You sighed "I really hope you're right, Arthur."

[zvdvdlvr]

ain't like that, kid. | PROLOGUE, INTRO

series masterlist | navigation

☆ - synopsis :: john marston used to be known for sleeping around with women. he was dangerous in a way that got many women got… aroused. now that he was running with the dutch van der linde gang, that was all behind him- not to mention he had jack and abigail. needless to say when he gets contacted by one of the women he had sex with, he was genuinely taken aback when he was informed that he had a daughter that needed a different place to live.

☆ - warnings :: coarse language, murder, attempted murder, bad communication, illness, character death, it gets better

☆ - pairings :: platonic john marston x daughter ! original chatacter

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - PROLOGUE, INTRO

"Ain't you handsome," crooned a woman, running her hands along John's shoulders. The man smiled and took a swig of the alcohal in his glass.

"Thank you, ma'am. Y'ain't bad yerself," he found himself saying. John was affected by the alcohal, but he was still thinking properly.

"Well, I thank you kindly. You got a name, mister?" the woman asked, massaging john's shoulders.

"Yes ma'am," he replied after finishing his drink.

"Oh? Well what is it?"

Standing up and turning around, John smiled a charming smile that made all the girls dance. "Whatever you want to call me, honey, that's my name." With that, John gently grasped the woman by the waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

I think you know what happens next.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

Almost 9 months later, the woman that John had sex with that night gave birth to two kids. Two baby girls, both small and tiny. Premature, the doctor had said. Both of the girls were premature.

This was not very good, doctor Mathers explained. They were barely into the eighth month when Catharine gave birth.

It doesn't matter, Catharine had said. I'll do what needs to be done.

What are you going to name the girls ma'am? the man asked after nodding at the woman's previous statement.

Catharine thought for a moment. Carmen and Cameron, she answered. The Corrigan family has two more successors, Catharine said with a smile.

Indeed it does, Doctor Mathers had replied with a weary smile.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

Cameron and Carmen were like many sisters of the era: best friends. The girls- although very similar in looks- were differing in personalities. Not to the point were they clashed over everything, just to the point where they each grew irritated at each other for their likes and dislikes.

Carmen was the oldest. She left the womb approximately three minutes and fifty six seconds before Cameron. As the eldest, Carmen made it her responsibility to take over the chores that Cameron inevitably slacked off. Carmen had black hair that reached her back that was twisted into intricate braids pinned to her scalp. Carmen was nice enough. The girls were told never to speak unless spoken to, never lie or withhold information, never speak out against an elder's statement, and to never wish harm upon anyone. Every single one of these rules were broken by both of the girls but as long as they weren't doing anything illegal or to get the family of three in trouble then Catharine didn't care.

Cameron. The second born. Cameron was as perceptive as her sister but she normally stated what she saw. Cameron was taller than her sister by not even an inch. She was a strawberry blonde, just like Catharine. Cameron inherited her mother's brown eyes while Carmen had a vibrant shade of green and brown. (Literally. Carmen's left eye was green and the other was brown!) Cameron's hair was cut as short as her mother would let it. Her hair was exactly two and a half inches past her shoulder and was braided and pinned back just like Carmen's hair.

Catharine's joy about her kids never wavered. They were the joy of her life, along with a bottle of rum every once in a while. Catharine kept clean for her girls, always putting them first. She worked at the local saloon and was fortunate enough to be able to bring home three or four extra meals that the chef had made more of.

Despite how happy the three were, they knew the hardships of life. When Carmen and Cameron were barely a year old, Catharine was living out in the streets, picking the locks of some churches and sneaking into abandoned houses to sleep in. Only when Catharine had four more years of parenting under her belt did the tide start to turn.

Now at 14, Carmen and Cameron were both working in town. Carmen and Cameron both took time out of their day to go earn some money at the Valentine stable to help clean stalls. In return, the men working would give each twin a dime or two and teach them how to ride horses.

The twins had different main jobs. Carmen worked at the gun store with 'Papa Dalton' (an inside joke from years ago). Papa Dalton taught Carmen everything she'd ever need to know about using any kind of weapon, and- as per their mother's request- taught both the girls basic fighting moves.

Cameron worked with the town doctor, Ben Calloway. She spent her days helping treat ailments and studying medicine. The doctor had a soft spot for the family. He- along with Dalton Smith- cared for the family of three like a grandfather. Calloway taught both girls how to stitch someone up properly, how to suture a wound, remove snake venom from a bite, and many other useful things.

In any case, the Corrigan family were doing better than most. They had each other and reciprocated love for their town of Valentine.

[scariusaquarius]

John Marston fluff blurb cause i miss him

Warning: none

It was a quiet but beautiful day. The summer had been relatively easy on West Elizabeth, the blistering sun mostly hidden behind pristine white clouds most days, and though there were plenty of storms throughout the long summer months, it made for a cool and brisk day.

John had already finished the chores around the ranch during the early morning to avoid the heat that came with West Elizabeth's summers, and you had already finished all of the housework, so the two of you were sitting at the small river.

The river felt cold against your feet as you and John let your feet dangle in the water from your perch John had made a while back. His large and calloused hand was holding your own sweetly, thumb rubbing against your skin as you both basked in the moment.

"Hey, John?"

John opened his eyes to glance at you, tilting his head cutely as he responded.

"Yes, ma'am?"

Your lips turned up slightly, John immediately smiling back as you hummed.

"I love you."

John's ears pinked, and he became shy, scratching his cheek slightly as he glanced down at his feet within the water.

"I love you too, darling."

"You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

John looked a bit surprised, a bit of confusion crossing his pretty face, almost as if he was suspicious as to what you were saying.

"Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?"

Your heart began to race as you fidgeted, kicking your feet slightly before you reached into your pocket.

It wasn't traditional at all to ask him the question. It was completely out-of-sorts, but you knew this was what you wanted. You knew you wanted John to be yours for life. So, you pulled out the little box and held it to him, saying softly as his eyes widened at the sight of the wedding band sitting pretty in the navy blue box.

"I know it ain't traditional...but I know what I want in my life...and it's you. For a long time, if you'll have me...I...would you...marry me, John Marston?"

John was frozen in shock, his eyes wide and mouth agape, and he wordlessly sifted into his own pocket, pulling out his own little box. He held it out for you wordlessly, and you couldn't help but laugh as the man huffed.

"Dammit, lady, I'm the supposed to be the one asking you this."

You and John both began to settle into a fit of giggles before you leaned over and kissed him. John set aside the boxes of rings carefully so he could cup your face, kissing you like his life depended on it, and you both were breathless when you both pulled away.

"I sure do love you, John."

"I sure do love you too, Mrs. Marston."

[highaver]

"Yes, ma'am." Balfour granted her his sweetest smile with that affirmative nod as he got to his feet. He was smiling all the while until he returned to her, their drinks in hand, so warmed was he by the knowledge that some things really did work out. And not just for the better but for, in the case of John Marston, as always seemed to be the case for John Marston, the stupider as well.

"Mr Marston the rancher," he said in disbelief, once he had sat. He seemed to still need the time to recover from it, his coffee as of yet untouched, big, stupid grin of his still firmly in place. "Now, that truly is ridiculous."

It would keep him going for at least a month. He couldn't wait to tell Elethea.

"You mentioned Charles, as well? There anybody else around here?" Enough familiar faces and it might give him reason to pause. Balfour yearned for the familiarity of that old family, of the people that he had loved and cared and very much almost died for, but stupidity could not rule out. He had spent these last years keeping his sister safe, and that was not about to change. Too many old faces in one place, after all, and they might well start getting recognised.

Still. A little while. That couldn't hurt.

❝ yessir. it's called, uh...i don't recall. beech-something. ❞ she can't blame balfour for laughing; hell, john marston never seemed like the type to be able to do something like this. but abigail was always real nice to miri, jack and the twins played together when they were younger, and she was so relieved to hear that she was okay. it's not like it had been years since she'd left the gang herself, before everything went down; it had only been months, and from what she's heard, not everyone survived. and those that did probably shouldn't, some of them. if the marstons are doing okay, miri's glad about it.

❝ i ain't seen abigail in a while, dunno if they're ranchin' proper yet or if they're still building, but that's the plan. she says charles smith's been helpin' them, too. i didn't know him well, but i figure that's good. ❞ miri doesn't know what went down, in the end. she doesn't know why the rift happened, or if it was clear that there was a right and wrong side. but balfour's her friend, and he doesn't seem inclined to go over there and shoot john in the head, and maybe that's all she needs to know. ❝ we can go find 'em sometime, if you want. ❞

the world's a small place after all, if they're all turning up in blackwater. ain't this where things started to go wrong, for the gang?

she smiles at balfour, now. ❝ i'm strictly a coffee kinda gal, these days. whiskey's more the saloon's area. ❞

[anthophobicowl]

Can't believe sadie/john is such an obscure ship with how much they interact in the epilogue. I mean I guess very few players ever get to it and that those that do already have made up their minds about pairings. But they just get along so well.

[the-del-noche-gang]

Can't get over the fact that Bonnie is supposed to be 15 years old in Red Dead Online. I can't tell if I should follow her orders or make sure she's not going to bed after 8pm. Should I go attack a gang of violent outlaws on her say-so or make sure she's drinking her milk? Should I bring her the head of a dead alligator or should I bring her like, a pony?

[vidjyagames]

[myfairgunslinger]

Title: Red Dead Revenge: Kiss of Death  [Part 8 ]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC x John Marston

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Rape

Summary:  Maeve is feeling cramped up and Arthur decides to take her fishing, not without a couple of people that want to join however.

A/N: Finally! I have returned! And with a brand new chapter picking up where we left off! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 8: Hook, Line and Sinner

Maeve was staring at the newspaper, puffing on a freshly lit premium cigarette, flipping through each page and scanning the articles to see if any news had been reported about them. Yes, them being her sick obsession. Her new reason for living.  The two men that ruined everything by going too damn far. Mike and Phil Bollard along with their gang of diabolical lackies.

She blew out the smoke that collected in her lungs all over page two's piece on Blackwater's Eleventh Annual Bird Shooting contest. The first three places were taken by contenders Maeve recognized from prior years of beating them.  The girl flipped the next page of the newspaper finding a story about a home robbery and kidnapping outside of Strawberry, but robbers were unknown.  It would be something to investigate.

"Miss!" Maeve's head looked up to see a tracker working from his stand, holding the cougar pelt Maeve had scored a few days ago. Since her fight with Abigail, she hasn't necessarily seen John.  More so avoiding him.  When he didn't come see her that night, Maeve took that as a bad sign and just wasn't ready to hear his reasoning.  She's been kept busy doing chores with Mrs. Grimshaw who has not spoken about what happened that night.  None of the girls around camp have for that matter.  Mostly due to Susan telling the girls, "I don't wanna hear any lip about that fight.  It ain't none of our business and I will not have any fuss over it. Understand!"

Maeve hasn't really seen Abigail either, which was cleverly orchestrated by Mrs. Grimshaw.  Having either Abigail focus on dishes or other close campus chores while sending Maeve to do laundry or chores that are more on the outside of camp with Tilly.  Maeve did find herself doing the errands that required riding into town.  Hosea often requested the mail be checked, always saying how Dutch was expecting a letter or how urgent it was that Hosea's letters get to the post.

"They think I'm not seein' these things, but I do!  I ain't that dumb!" Maeve would complain to Arthur, who has been one of the only people she spoken to these past few days.  After hugging Arthur, realizing how much she can trust him, Maeve started to spend time with him.

"They know you're not dumb. That's why they keep sending you off to do things for them," he would say in a humorous tone.  Arthur was enjoying their time together even though he knew it was to distract her from her more unpleasant thoughts.  Maeve would go into his tent to straighten it up to purge the tables of empty bottles and bowls or opened books and scattered papers.  His dirtied clothes would be on the ground after a long day of doing 'work for the gang' and Maeve would just toss it all in a basket.  For being the only person sleeping in his tent, Arthur somehow always managed to make a mess out of it.

When Maeve would go in there to clean up, her and Arthur always got into depth in their conversations about old stories they read to bits of Arthur growing up in the gang.  He went into details about their first bank job together, the small slip ups that occurred but the overall success of it.  It amused Maeve so much that she smiled at the end of it.  

Maeve approached the stand, digging out the money she needed while flicking away the cigarette, "All finished up, Ma'am.  With fine stitchin' you got yourself there one nice coat for the winter."  She handed over the money to him, "Thank you, now that's one thing off the list." She took the wrapped-up article of clothing and put it under her arm, no way was she wearing that thing in this heat.

She had walked over to the post office, tripping over the leg of a man that had sat in the middle of the entry way. After an irritated shake of her head, Maeve went to ask for the mail, "One moment while I go collect it."  The postman she had come to know as Frank usually gave her this specific look every time the girl came in.  Maeve wasn't sure what to make of it, was he sizing her up to see if Maeve caused any issues in the town of Armadillo or was that just how his face rested.

The girl decided to look over the strange article she saw earlier and managed to find a name of the surviving victim.  Her name was Alma Gouin, around the age of fifty-three.  She had to hear her daughter and son-in-law being tortured and shot before hearing her granddaughter screaming when these robbers tied her up to be taken away.  All the while old Alma had to listen to all this from the top attic where she sleeps.

Maeve had a gut feeling that these might be the men she's looking for.  She pulled out the journal Arthur got her and started to scribble away a letter, "Can I purchase an envelope and stamp from you?" she asked still writing.

She had handed over a letter to the post man with the address made out to Alma while in return she was given three letters.  One for Hosea, he always had one of these waiting for him.  The next letter was for Dutch, must be the one he's been waiting on.  The last one was unexpectedly for Arthur and the handwriting looked feminine.  Maeve flipped the back of the envelope to see the return address was to a Mary Linton.

       _______________________________________________________

When walking over to the saloon Maeve wondered who this Mary Linton was and what business did Arthur have with her?  He certainly never mentioned her or even said he was expecting to hear any news from this person.  Maeve then became curious as to if it was a past love of his.  Her eyes got a little big thinking of that idea.

"Why should I care anyway?" she said more to herself when looking down at the letter, debating to rip it open and find out what this lady wanted.  Then what? Hand Arthur an envelope with a broken seal telling him got a private letter.  That would look well.

Going through the doors, Maeve stuffed the letters in her saddle to find Arthur leaning against the bar with two shoots of whiskey in front of him, "Miss Milley," he smiled over at her and slid a glass over to her when she was close enough, "Get everything you needed to get done?"

"Yes," She glanced at the shot glass for a moment, "This a good idea?  Remember last time we were here?"

"You made me dance with you for a moment and thought I had a twin.  I remember quite well," he chuckled, "It's just one."

"Hmm," Maeve picked up the glass and threw her head back to drink it.  She hissed out from the burn, "Still not use to that," her voice wheezed. Arthur watched her, amused with her reaction before standing up straight, "We should get you back."

Maeve groaned out and he turned to her, "What? Sick of us already?"

"You?  No way in hell," Arthur made an awe noise acting touched, "Sick of being whispered about?  Sick of getting dirty looks from Abigail? And Little Jack for that matter? Sick of getting treated like I'm some fragile object?  Most definitely."

He couldn’t help sympathizing, "I'm sure Jack is just mimickin' his mother." She scoffed, "She was nowhere around!"

Arthur shrugged, "Guess he hates ya."

"Terrific," Maeve's voice was not excitable.  Arthur set down his shot glass, "You fish much?"

Maeve shook her head, "Too busy shootin' birds."

"We should go.  Catch fish.  Talk without wondering who's listening.  There's a river above Blackwater, right?" He suggested to her.

"Just you and me?" She rose an eyebrow at him.

"Oh sorry.  Did you wanna invite Abigail and Jack along?" He teased her.  Maeve couldn't help the laugh that escaped her throat.  "God no."

Back at camp Arthur went to find his spare fishing rod for this trip while Maeve went to pack a few things not knowing when they'd be back.  When opening her saddle bag, she saw the letters that she picked up in the mail today. She had no idea what to make of the one Arthur received but figured asking the one person that knows Arthur best.

Walking up to the two leading men of this gang, she held up the letters to Dutch and Hosea, "Mail for you two," keeping Arthur's in her other hand.

"Splendid!  I have been waiting almost three weeks for this," Dutch took the letter from her going to open it up.  

During these past few days, Hosea had been trying his best to get to know Maeve after their hunting trip.  He saw she was educated when she stopped to read one of the books around Arthur's tent along with writing down in her journal.  He was surprised in her knowledge of stars along with knowing old Greek myths relating to the constellations.

Maeve glanced at Hosea who took his letter but set it down on the table.  Maeve figured he'd read it now, "Aren't you gonna open it?"

Hosea shook his head, "It can wait.  Just some scam I'm pulling," Maeve nodded once before watching Dutch going over to sit down on his sofa, "What's Mister Van Der Linde been waitin' on?"

Hosea rolled his eyes, "A letter from some girl he's taken a fancy to.  Rich and Irish," Maeve chuckled, "Oh, I heard of pen pals, but I didn't know it could--"

"It doesn't," Hosea finished, "There's been a lot of talk of her trying to come here to 'travel' with us.  I think it's a waste of time."

"Guess we'll see--" a bark of laughter from Dutch cut her off and Hosea noticed what was in Maeve's hands, "What's that?" he nodded.

"Oh, I actually did want to talk to you about this. It's for Arthur.  It's from some woman," Maeve explained and Hosea held his hand up and worry in his eyes, "Give it here."

She held it further away from the man, as if protecting it, "But it's Arthur's."

"Yes, but I know what's best for Arthur.  Why else did you want to speak to me about this," he countered.  Maeve leaned in closer to whisper, "Is it a lover?"

"It's a damn nightmare.  Letter.  Now," Hosea demanded.  Maeve handed it over to him without hesitation.  He inspected it for a moment, seeing the seal of a 'M.L.' then cracked it open to pull out the letter.

"Hosea!" Maeve hissed, "How could you?"

"Oh, stow it!  You're just as curious as I am," he said bringing it in close so he could read it.  Maeve didn't even defend herself and instead moved to where she could also read the letter over the man's shoulder.

She must have been reading at a fast pace, skipping over words that looked like scribbles due to Mary's terrible handwriting as stated at the start of the letter, "Who taught her to write?" Maeve muttered under her breath.  Hosea gave her a questioning look but ultimately held in a chuckle.  As the letter continues Mary goes on to recall of the old days her and Arthur shared when they were so full of hope and promise.  Maeve groaned at this cringey paragraph, wanting to vomit.

"You okay Miss Milley? If the letter is too much for you to bare--" Hosea said in a mocking tone.  "Shush!  I'm still reading it," Maeve will never admit this to anyone, but she could feel that jealousy in her own gut boil at every "Oh Arthur!" that this woman wrote.  Eventually the letter was requesting if Arthur meet up in Strawberry for a chance to catch up.

Maeve was at a loss for words when finishing the letter. This Mary, this woman was someone that clearly had a history with Arthur, that much was known from the way she wrote to him.  The other thing she noticed was how much they must have loved each other, enough for Hosea to recall it all as a nightmare.  That past relationship must have ended in a lot of heart break.  The only question was who took the most damage, Mary or Arthur?  The last thing on her mind was why did Maeve have a strange feeling after reading this letter.  Was this guilt?  Maybe she shouldn't have looked at this private conversation.  Even she despised the fact her relationship to John was now know to everyone here.

John.  He was such a dilemma on his own for Maeve.  She's never met anyone that she can be so infuriated at yet still hold a place in her heart.  The real reason she's been avoiding John was she doesn't think she's ready to take his rejection about whatever it is they can be.  Part of Maeve did want that second chance, but then that other part kicks her in the ass.

"Probably gonna ask a favor of the man. Poor fool," Hosea said closing up the letter.  He glanced over to see Maeve stuck in her head.  He snapped his fingers to draw her attention, "You here?"

"We have to reseal it," Maeve said to Hosea with her hands on her hips.  Hosea looked back at her as she continued, "He has to read this for himself without knowing that we opened this up."

"Or we don't show him, and he doesn't get sucked up in whatever Mrs. Linton's problems are."

Maeve shook her head, "Hosea even you know that's not right. Besides what if he finds out?" Hosea let out an irritated sigh, "Miss Milley, you haven't seen Arthur when it comes to Mary.  It's as if nothing else matters and he'll go far out of his way to do whatever it is she demands.  Like a dog itching to have a bone. It's better if he doesn't know and you keep giving me any letters from her."

As much as Maeve didn't like the idea of Mary having this hold on Arthur, she went up to Hosea to take the letter back which he wasn't expecting, "Are you mad?"

"You have no idea!" Maeve held the letter far back from the man as he tried to reach for it, "But you're madder for keeping this from him.  What if someone did this to you?  Keepin' a letter from your loved one, someone you might want a second chance with."

Hosea stopped trying to grab the paper and instead looked at her, "You have no idea what box you're about to open up, Sweet Pandora."

Maeve rolled her eyes and then put the letter back in the envelope.  She glanced around the tent to see a candle that was lit and went over to it.  Hosea watched her for a moment before asking, "The hell are you doing?"

She picked up the candle to hold it to the seal seeing it melt the wax, "I don't want him knowing we read it.  How embarrassing would that be?"

"The way you’re holding it is gonna--" before the older man could finish his sentence the paper had caught fire, "Holy hell!" Maeve quickly let go of the letter as it caught flame.

She had hiked up her skirt so the girl could step on the fire to put it out.  Hosea on the other hand grabbed a blanket to toss over it, successfully putting it out, "Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine, but the letter!" she pulled the blanket up to meet with burnt pieces of paper, "God damn it!"

Hosea after a moment of silence chuckled at her, "Oh Miss Milley, it was probably for the best, bless your kind heart," he continued to laugh between his words.  Maeve was not finding any of this humorous.  She looked at Hosea, defeated at idea of her trying help only resulted in causing a fire. Hosea continued to chuckle at her clumsiness.  How it reminded him of when the Arthur and John were younger.

"Miss Milley?" Arthur had called from outside the tent.  Her eyes were large when she glared at Hosea.  He placed a finger over his lips signaling for her to say nothing of the letter, "She's in here."

The man came in and saw a guilty faced Maeve while his nostrils smelled smoke, "What is that?  Something cookin'?"

"Nope!"

"No idea," Hosea said at the same time with the girl.  Arthur stared at them oddly, "Right, Miss were you about ready?"

She nodded, "Yes, sir.  We should go," Maeve hurried out of the tent as Hosea tried not to laugh when he realized she was gonna keep the letter from him, or at least not speak of it now.

Arthur was still rather confused when watching Maeve scurry off and observing Hosea's face, "What is going on with you guys?"

The older man shot back, "What's going on with you guys?" Arthur shifted in his stance, "Just fishing."

Hosea's eyebrows rose up, "Just you two?  Can I join?"

"No!" Arthur's brow furrowed. Hosea scoffed, shaking his head, "I see how it is then."

Keeping his voice low, Arthur told him, "The kid just needs to get out of camp.  Hasn't been easy on her past few days."

"I get that," Hosea went to stand, approaching the man, "I think you two should have a talk."

"A talk?" Arthur glanced out the tent to see Maeve kicking a small rock to the side waiting on him.

Hosea leaned in a bit closer, "An honest talk where you both tell the other what you're keeping from them."

"Is she keeping something from me?"

"Aren't you keeping something from her?" Hosea said knowing that wasn't a question, "You should tell the girl, Arthur. She has a right to know."

Arthur stared at him, but he simply murmured, "I don't know if I have it in me," with that he left the tent.

Maeve let out a sigh that Arthur was taking so long, hoping Hosea said nothing about her burning Mary's letter.  She started to rub the back of her neck when hearing a, "You do that when you're nervous."

She turned around to see John walking up to her.  Maeve instantly stopped that gesture, "What's troubling you?" he asked her.  The girl was just near burning a hole in his head, "Why do you care?"

"I'm not allowed to?" He tilted his head, "Why you been avoiding me?"

Maeve crossed her arms, "Didn't realize I had," she lied.

"Oh?  Then the other day when you were carrying laundry, you turning quickly on your heel right after seeing me walk towards you, that wasn't you avoiding me," John wanted to clarify.

"I didn't even see you.  I forgot I left Uncle's union suit behind," she quickly answered, "Sure, but you see me now, right?" John stared at her and she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, "What's got you on edge?"

Maeve opened her mouth and saw just the man that was on her mind, "Arthur!"

"Miss Milley.  Sorry I kept you waiting," he eyed the leaner man, "John. Pleasure seeing you here." John glanced at them both, "Where you two going?"

"Fishing," Arthur said leading Maeve to the horses with John following behind, "Just you two?"

"Yes," Maeve answered as they got to the horses. John ran up in front of them, so they'd stop, "I wanna go."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "You hate water, you idiot."

"But I like fishing," he shrugged. Arthur shook his head, voice subtly growling, "No... you don't." Maeve's ears picked up on that.

"Yes," John stepped closer to Arthur, "I do." They shared a scowl that has been heated for a while.  Maeve, rather small when compared to the outlaws, went to stand between the two, "Excuse me, Gentlemen?  I believe I also get a say in this?"

They both turned to her as she then continued, "John, I'd rather you stay here, but since you'd probably follow us anyway you might as well come along," John hid the smirk he wanted to flash Arthur who was not happy about this. "Besides, we can always use you as bait," Maeve snarked at him while walking to Liability.

John tipped his hat to Arthur, "The lady has spoken," he then went to grab the bedroll from his tent.  Arthur clutched a fist longing to strike John, but then instead loosened his grip to hurry back over to one particular tent, popping his head in to say, "You can join us."

Hosea looked up from the piece of paper he was reading to meet Arthur's eyes.

       _______________________________________________________

The four rode the trail all the way up to Upper Montana River. The entire ride up was filled with silence apart from Hosea's whistling he'd do.  John had a lot he wanted to say to Maeve, while Arthur did as well. Maeve didn't know where to start with either of them, but that's not what was eating at her.  She just hoped not a word about Mary's letter was breathed by the old man.

When they got to the river, they dismounted at a decent enough spot to get started.  Maeve took one of the fishing rods and went over to where the water was streaming at a much calmer rate.

"You'll need bait!" Hosea called out to her and then nodded his head at Arthur, "Go help her."  He then saw John about to walk over when he stopped him, "John, help me get a fire started."  The youngest man sighed.

Arthur stuck a hand in his pocket, "Here, this should get you a bite," he handed her a small clump of cheese.  Maeve rose an eyebrow at him, "I thought a worm is what you use?"

He shook his head, "You can, but the scent of cheese attracts fish too.  Besides, I'm not carryin' around worms in my pocket, Miss Milley."

"Just smelly cheese," Maeve teased getting him to chuckle, "It works."

She hooked the piece of food to the lure then was about to cast it off until Arthur placed his hands on her shoulder, "Wait. Can I show you a trick on how to cast out?"  Maeve nodded and he went to go behind her, using his hands to position her posture a certain way.  He pushed her elbows up more than what they were, "Have them like that," Arthur said in a low voice.  Maeve did exactly as he instructed, "And the more you pull back to cast, the farther the line goes out.  Since this is a river, try not to have it go to shore on the other side of the river."

When John would look over all he saw was Arthur having his arms around a girl he used to call his.  A girl that was smiling when another man was talking to her.  A girl he should have stayed with instead of leaving. John felt his stomach tying in knots as Hosea snapped his fingers to get his attention, "The wood's not gonna collect itself." John gave him a glare as Hosea said, "Help an old man out."

"I'm starting to think the old man is helpin' out someone other than me," he started to pick up large sticks that were laying at the roots of a tree.

"That's a good thing. You're starting to think," He smiled at a not amused John, "She did say I could come along. Doesn't that mean she would like to enjoy my company also? Not just Arthur's."

Maeve had cast out the line to land in the middle of the river and Arthur patting her on the back for landing a good spot.  He also cast out his line once he got his fishing rod ready.

"John, if there's one thing you must know in life it's that sweet girls like Miss Milley don't wanna hurt anyone's feelings, especially people that are special to her."

John dropped the collection of wood he gathered in front of the man, "You find her to be sweet?"

"Don't you?"

John thought of all the times he's witnessed Maeve become angry, throwing a shot glass in his direction, stabbing a robber behind the Armadillo Train Station, her fight with Abigail, "She has her moments.  I'd be more worried about pissing her off. You do that right and it's good-bye sugar and candy." He then gazed over at her.

She stood on a flat rock, wondering when she would get a nibble, "How long until I get a bite?"

"The key to fishing is patience, the fish will come to you," Arthur said.  Maeve rolled her eyes, "Rather just shoot 'em."

"You start firing your gun off you'll scare away all animals in the area, meaning no dinner for anyone," Arthur flicked his line.

Before Maeve could say anything there was a tug pulling on the line, "Oh my, I think I have a bite!" Arthur pointed to her hook keeper, "Start reeling!" she did just that until a dark brown boot popped out of the water, swinging towards her.  Maeve made a small frown when seeing it, "What a load of horse shit!"

Arthur laughed when she went to take it off her hook, "Don't feel so bad, Miss Milley.  Happens more often than you know."

Eventually, Arthur had caught a couple fish while Maeve caught nothing.  They were welcomed back with a campfire with John and Hosea.

"Ah what did you catch for dinner?" the older man asked seeing Maeve go over to her satchel to take out a can, "Arthur had a nice catch. Caught a load of nothing," she said bluntly when opening up the can, the scent of strawberries seeping out.  John smirked at her knowing that red fruit was going to be all she ate, "Never been much of a fisher, have you?"

"Give yourself more credit, Miss Milley.  You did catch a boot," he chuckled with John. Maeve sulked when scooping out a berry, "Go on, make fun."

Hosea hushed them, "Like the two of you never caught your share of boots when you first started.  Hell, Arthur you would go buy fish from the market and say you spent all day at the lake."

Arthur groaned a bit from the memory with cheeks slightly reddened, "And John...the biggest fish you caught was Bill. Your hook caught on to him when you went to cast it out." John felt embarrassed and remembered how Bill chase after him for the mishap.

Maeve laughed at them, "I might have caught a boot, but it was honest work," she popped another berry in her mouth.

"You'll catch a fish one day, Miss," Hosea said getting up to help Arthur cook the food.  Maeve sat down by the fire keeping a bit of a distance away from John, who scooted closer to her anyway, "This is nice.  Just us out here."

Maeve, with a full strawberry in her mouth, stared at him for a moment before chewing.  John continued, "It's a beautiful spot.  It's not too far from Blackwater either," his eyes did become soft aft a moment, wanting to ask her a question that's been on his mind.

She swallowed her food, "What?" the girl knew he wanted to say something.  John saw the other two men were still busy, "Arthur says you don't ever plan on going back."

Maeve's eyes held her focus on John, "Nothing to go back to. I'm not sorry that this makes problems for you."

The corner of John's lip slightly lifted, "I don't want you to go," Maeve could feel herself becoming elevated as he continued to speak and he could see the subtle tells on her face, the way her pupils flooded like a full moon.  "It took me a while to realize that I don't want to see you leave, Mae. Not ever."

Their gaze on each other held for so long that Maeve had to turn her head away, a genuine smile on her face, "Oh John. Don't make me do this."

He had leaned a little closer to her, "Do what?  I'm not makin' you do anything."

Her head shift to where she was facing him, John's face closer than she thought.  The tension between them, thick as ever, "This," Maeve went to stand up on her feet.  With a single glare from the woman she made a soft frown, starting to walk away from him.

"It's ready," Hosea said over his shoulder as John watched Maeve walk towards the river, "John!" Hosea called again and the man grunted when standing up, "I'm going!"

Arthur had noticed Maeve walk off, seeming unhappy from her conversation with John.  He went to follow her.  When approaching her, he had stopped a distance away taking in the sight of her back towards him.  Maeve's arms were crossed as she scanned the view of the river, scattered trees and night sky with all the stars.

He had cleared his throat, "Nice night this evening," taking a few steps closer, "Almost wasteful to see you not enjoying' it."

Maeve's attention went to the man before her.  She gave him a smirk when saying, "Where did you get that idea, Mister Morgan?"

"I got a feelin'," he was standing next to her, looking down, "Was I right?"

Maeve had perched her lips not quite meeting his gaze, debating on her emotions, "Perhaps, but the night's still young." It was there her eyes shifted to his, "Come have a walk with me?" she asked him.

Arthur looked back to the campfire to see Hosea and John talking while having fish, "Sure."

When they were further away from the small camp, Maeve let out a chuckle after hearing one of Arthur's stories when he was younger, camping on his own for the first time away from the gang.

“With the way I set up the tent poles and the wind blowin’ in the direction it was, my tent was bound to catch on fire.  Had to sleep under the stars in the cold with no bedroll or dinner,” he said with an amused expression, enjoying that he had her smiling.

“Sounds like you had a rough time,” Maeve looked down at her boots to see the ground she was walking on.

“Yet here you are giggling at my hardships,” he said in a teasing tone, eyeing her smirk.  How he could get lost in just observing every physical gesture or movement that she does. Arthur could see why John stuck around Blackwater, only difference is he would not have left.  Then came that shameful feeling he always got when he thought of Maeve for too long.  The shame of almost being the one to rob her and her family.  

They were approaching a large rock that was sticking out of the earth.  The girl lifted her head to catch his gaze, the first-time witnessing Arthur actually staring with affectionate eyes that Maeve cleared her throat to break him out of it, “Well, what can I say?  I do like seeing you in turmoil.  You should have seen your face when you re-bandaged my wound,” she wanted to see how much Arthur could get flustered.  The answer was very much from the way his cheeks turned a light shade of red when remembering her bare skin.

“I knew you’d bring that up again one of these days,” Arthur slowly stopped in his steps as did Maeve with a mischievous smirk on her face from succeeding, “If you must know, Miss, it’s been a while since I’ve been in the company of a… exposed lady.  Especially one of the likes of you.”

An eyebrow rose, “And just what does that mean?” Maeve questioned crossing her arms, slowly taking steps towards Arthur, wanting to hear this.

“Well, for one you are not a delicate flower like I first thought.  You don’t have a problem standin’ up for yourself where most women would be meek,” Arthur had taken a step back as she got closer to him, “Really?  That all you like about me?”

Arthur’s back had touched the large rock that was there, and Maeve stopped, being arm’s length away. His mind was running many thoughts on what she was doing, why she was questioning him like this. Her head tilted to the side waiting for his answer.

“No, that ain’t even close to being it,” her eyes had that intensity that excited him, “Ever since the night we met, you’ve kept surprising me with being unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

Maeve’s face softened at his words as he raised his hand up to gently cup the side of her face.  His thumb brushed the flesh of her cheek while their gaze held.  She then took the only chance Maeve knew she would get before having to tell him about the letter, remembering the woman that sent it.

Her lips pressed to Arthur’s moving against his. He didn’t even fight it at first, the soft lips of Maeve captivated the man, having longed for this kind of affection.  As they kissed, Arthur had not noticed that he had backed up against the rock.  They held their closeness until Maeve pulled away to move her lips to his neck where Arthur took a deep breath.

“Maeve,” his voice said lowly while she kept her mouth on his skin, giving him soft nips with her teeth.  Arthur let out a small groan, his eyes opened to look down at her. His heart swelled, wanting her to keep going; however Arthur placed his hands on her shoulders to gently pull her away.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes went to meet his wondering what his thoughts were.

Arthur cupped her face, instead of seeing her all he could see were the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Milley that he had buried, “This. We shouldn’t be doing this.  Not after everything.”

Maeve shook her head along with the confusion she felt to take off his hat and card his hair with her fingers, “Why not?  I see how you look at me and I’ve been attracted to you since I first saw you,” she moved her hands down to the top button on his shirt to pop one open, “There’s nothing wrong,” another button popped, “Why fight this?”

His breath hitched as Maeve leaned into kiss Arthur on the lips, “Just give in…” she whispered while undoing more buttons.  He wrapped his arms around her body as their kiss deepened.  Her heart was pounding but his lips left hers, a somber expression on his face, “Maeve you ain’t thinking straight. You want me cause you’re vulnerable and I ain’t taking advantage like that.”

Maeve let out a soft whine, “But I want this.  I do! Please Arthur,” she reached down to his belt, touching the buckle.  Had he been a lower man, he would have just given in and distracted Miss Milley of her troubles by making her feel good.  Arthur went to grab her hands, “I can’t do this to you.  Not when we have to talk about something important.”

“It can’t wait?” Maeve groaned staring at his chest then his face.

He needed to do as Hosea said, have an honest talk with her about that night.  Arthur knew if he did not and she found out what happened by any one besides himself, he would lose her. “I’ve put it off long enough.”

That sparked dread in her stomach.  He knew.  He knew about the letter she burnt up.  Hosea must have let it slip while they were preparing the fish, while she was busy talking to John.  She might as well come clean and explain herself, “Hosea told you then.  Arthur, I swear it was an accident.”

His eyes winced, “Accident? What are you goin’ on about?”

Now Maeve was starting to doubt what he did know, “Your letter…from Mary.”  His eyes got larger at the mention of the name, “My letter from Mary?”

He didn’t know then, “I set it on fire,” Maeve confessed to the man that had pulled further away, “On fire? How the hell did you manage that?”

She had a more flushed expression to her face, “I tried resealing the letter…after opening it up to read…” Arthur stared at her, baffled she did all of this, “It was Hosea’s idea!”

He groaned out while covering his face from the humiliation, “He read it too!” Maeve crossed her arms, now that their moment was ruined, “What did she say?” Arthur asked.

Begrudgingly, Maeve told him, “Something about meeting up with you in Strawberry.  Excuse for not remembering more but it was hard to read her chicken scratch.”

Arthur caught that bitter tone, “Are you…jealous?” That was surprising to him. Maeve shook her head while pointing to herself, “Of what? I had a proper education in literacy.”

“You are!” Arthur chuckled out before having to regain his composure. Maeve rolled her eyes, “Ya clearly didn’t know any of this.  What the hell did you have to tell me that you had to stop whatever it is we were doin’?”

The man then had dread resurface within himself. This conversation he would rather avoid but can’t now.

“Maeve, the night we met, I wasn’t just passin’ through Blackwater,” he started, “I got tipped off about a house that had gold in it. Some stableman got lucky an found a bunch of gold bars in some abandoned train.”

Maeve stared at him in disbelief.  That was her father, Everett.  How that information got out was beyond her, but it was her mother letting it slip out to a prospector she was so kind to feed breakfast one morning.  His repayment was to tell Arthur about the gold once he was saved from wolves.

“Later in the night, after we met at the saloon, I went to go see this house.  Get the gold and bring it back to the gang, but…”

Maeve finished for him not making eye contact anymore, “That’s where you found me, running for my life,” her tone was almost emotionless. Almost, the sparks of rage were just igniting.  Arthur didn’t see this yet, “I swear, I had no idea it would be your house I was going to. If I had got there first…maybe—”

Her cold brown eyes snapped right to his, “Maybe what? You’d rob us and only beat up my daddy? Smack around my mama? Hmm?”

“No—no—” Maeve cut him off, “We’d be in bigger trouble if ya robbed us first.  Hell, maybe I’d have died quicker since there was nothing valuable to collect.  How would you have robbed us, Arthur?  Would you ask politely for the gold? With your gun pointed right at my mama—no, at me?”

“Maeve, no!  That’s not what I’m getting’ at!”  Arthur wanted to believe if had saw her with her family that he would have left them alone, but that could just be him lying to himself.

“What are you getting’ at?” Maeve shouted, “If my daddy refused to give you the gold would ya have raped my mama like the Bollard Twins did? Or go after me since we hit it off so well?  What exactly would you have done different if it were you robbin’ us, Arthur?” He could see the angry tears in her eyes, knowing whatever he said was just going to infuriate her more.

“Miss Milley, that is not how I am.  If I was robbin’ you…maybe I could have helped your family from those awful men.  I can’t know for certain how things would be different, but I can promise you it would not have happened the way it did that night.”

Maeve scorned at him as he reached out to her, “If I could take back my intentions, I would.  I wish I was just riding through on the off chance of seeing you in the rain.”  She had leaned back so he wouldn’t touch her, “You can’t.”

Arthur reeled his hand back in defeat, “I can’t.”  Nothing but dead silence was shared between the two.

The woman, still angry, turned on her heel to walk back towards their campsite, leaving Arthur all alone.  The closer she got to the fire the more Maeve didn’t want to be there. Hosea would ask where Arthur was.  Worst of all he would see the expression on her face and question that, but not just him. John would too.  Maeve glanced off to the side where some trees were was a shack, a place that fishers could set up their reels, leave some supplies, or just hide from the sun for a bit.

She decided to walk up there, to hide in until everyone was sleeping.  When she entered the shack, it couldn’t have been bigger than an Uncle laying down along and across the floor boards.  A beaten-up table was pushed against the wall and a broken chair was tucked under it. As far as supplies goes, there was an old bucket that reeked of fish and some rusty hooks were scattered around. Maeve plucked the hooks on the table, tossing them in the bucket then tossed that outside.

She sat in the chair and pulled her journal out from her saddle bag, beginning to write in it.  Hosea said she needed to find her reason to live, Maeve couldn’t think of anything better than taking the lives of the ones that ruined hers.  She wrote down Mike and Phil Bollard at the top of her ‘list’. Followed after it was a man named Bob, the gang member that escaped with the twins that night. She was going to find these men, find them and put her through the same misery they did to her.

Before she could write anymore there was a knock at the door to this shack.  Maeve stood up and shut the journal to open it up, “John?”

He placed his forearm against the doorframe to lean on it, “I’d ask what you’re doing in a smelly shack, but you’ve been doing questionable things lately I figured it’s best I don’t ask.”

“What do you want?” Maeve said staring at him.  He then went to slip his slender self through the woman and the door, “I just wanna talk.”

“You could have done that a few nights ago,” Maeve reminded him.  John gritted his teeth, “Yeah, that’s actually what I wanted to talk about. Why I didn’t.”  She stared at him waiting for him to explain, “Abigail just wouldn’t stop her hollering at me over you.  Saying how you were gonna pay for all the trouble you’ve caused our family. I only stayed back so she wouldn’t start anymore of her shit.”

Maeve rolled her eyes, “Well, don’t think I’m just gonna take whatever she can some up with.”  John shook his head, “I’d expect no less.”

After a moment of quiet John felt he needed to get out something, he’s been wanting to say for a while, “Truth is, since you’ve been back in my life, I’m starting to feel everything we had back when were together in Blackwater.  It’s not doing what’s right to Abigail and Jack, thinking about being with you,” John continued, “I’ve never been no saint, but I did want to try with them again after seeing how wholesome you and your family were.  I wanted that.”

Maeve felt her heart being stabbed at their memory, “John—”

“I’m not done,” Maeve nodded so he can finish, “I thought it should be with them, but Mae—I want that with you instead.” Her mouth parted open, “You’re the only person I ever felt I can be free with.  I didn’t have to be a certain person for you.  And I know you still have some feelings for me.”

He was staring at her, deeply into her brown orbs, “I mean why else did you want to sit by me at the campfire?  Why else did you lie for me when I begged you? Or even ask me to come along today?”

John was getting closer to Maeve now who backed up against the table, “Mae, I’m tired of denying what we have.  Aren’t you?”

Maeve bit her bottom lip, “John, we— how can we ever come back from that?  You did what you did.”

John reached his hands up to hold the sides of her face in a gentle manner, “I’m doing this now,” he leaned in to press his lips to hers.  Maeve’s hands gripped the edge of the table out of surprise, but she took it all in.  This kiss was something she wanted so much from the day he left.

She had pulled her head back to look at John, as if giving him one last warning, “Don’t make me do this, John.”

He shook his head, “Do what? I’m not makin’ you do anything.” John was praying she wouldn’t leave again.

“This,” her hands caressed the sides of his face as she placed a soft kiss on his lips now.  He went to grip her by her waist, to hold her in place during their passionate kissing, just like how they used to.

[rosemary-morgan]

John Marston X F.Reader: The sky in her eyes - Part 3

(pictures found on pinterest. John Marstons picture belong to @gangofgunslingers​ 🖤)

Hello lovely ones (✿◕‿◕✿)

Here comes the third part of “The sky in her yes” 😊 I hope you all will enjoy this chapter. Thank´s so much for all the likes, reblogs, and comments. Thank you so much dear ones 🖤🖤 Means a lot to me!!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 4

(¯`v´¯)                                                      (¯`v´¯) `*.¸.*´                                                        `*.¸.*´ ¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨) (`’·.¸(`’·.¸  ¸.·’´) ¸.·’´)  (¨*•.¸ (¨*•.¸`•.¸ (¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•               •`¯¨• ¸¸ `•. `•.¸) `•.¸) `*.¸.*´                                                       `*.¸.*´

The sky in her eyes - 3

You couldn't believe you were really going to do it. Just thinking about it embarrassed you profoundly, yet you had no choice but to get money this way. You were so nervous, and tried to hide your fear when you bought a train ticket at the station. None of the passengers would assume that a young woman like you intended to rob a train.

Where did you get the two dollars to buy a ticket? Well, you were begging. You actually asked passersby to give you money, and it took a lot of effort to overcome, but that was your only chance to carry out your plan. You were wearing a hat with a black veil in front of your face like you would at funerals. You didn't want your face to be recognized.  "The train leaves in fifteen minutes, Miss. Wallace Station." "Thank you." The words came weakly out of your mouth. Of course, you felt bad, but you had to ensure your survival. "My condolences, Miss." "Thank you, Sir." The man who sold you the ticket assumed that you were grieving for your loved one. Well, that wasn't entirely wrong. You still hadn't dealt with your parents' death. With a soft sigh, you sat on an empty bench. You had no idea how your life would go on. Your palms were cold and sweaty at the same time. You were very excited, afraid of the consequences that would come to you. You felt how difficult it was to breathe calmly. It felt like there was a hand around your neck that squeezed you tightly. Again and again, you had to remind yourself to stay calm because you felt hot tears burn into your eyes. Of course, you knew that this whole action could go wrong, and that's what scared you. But on the other hand, who would miss you? You had no one left, and maybe that the reason why you´ll take this risk...

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"A ticket please." "Where do you want to go, Mister?" "Wallace station!" "Two dollars, please." John rummaged for the money in his pocket and then put it on the counter to pay for his ticket. "You should hurry up, Sir! The train will leave in a minute!" John took the ticket in his hand after paying for it, and stowed it in his satchel. "Thank you, Mister!" John hurried out of the building so as not to miss the train. The passengers had already taken a seat, and it was difficult for John to find one. He ended up sitting next to an older lady who willingly offered him the place next to her, and it quickly turned out that this woman was very talkative. John didn't want to be rude, so he talked to her. It was a very old lady, probably around eighty, so John made an exception, after all, the young man wasn´t very talkative. "I´m sure that your wife and children look forward to seeing you!" John laughed softly, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Wife and children? Yes, that would be nice! "No, ma'am. I'm not married." "Oh! That's hard to believe! Such a friendly, good looking man must have a lot of admirers!" The older lady was very curious, which made John roll his eyes. "You know, my granddaughter has just turned twenty-three, and she is very beautiful!" When John heard that, he cleared his throat. Oh no, that wouldn´t be a good idea. He was also starting to dislike this conversation. The older lady was just too pushy. "You know Ma'am, actually I already have a nice lady. She waits for my return every night!" When the older woman heard that, she immediately fell silent, looking at him with eyes wide open. John suppressed a laugh. Well, she would have to disappoint her granddaughter now. But John hadn't expected that the older woman would only become more curious. "Oh!! Lucky girl!" She started with her questions, and the young man rolled his eyes in annoyance - why couldn't he just enjoy a quiet trip?

Your eyes wandered from side to side, from right to left, watching everything very carefully. You weren't expecting so many people, which made you more nervous. Your hands trembled, and you felt your shoulders shake as well. God, you must have gone mad! But now you were here, and you would do it! You slowly rose from your seat, your hand moved to your hip, and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as you watch the passengers reading peacefully their books and newspapers. You didn't want to hurt any of these people. Tears of shame ran down your cheeks, but they were invisible to everyone else. They were hidden behind a black veil. Suddenly the time seemed to go back to normal when you pulled out the revolver, ready to steal from these people. "You all stay calm now! You will do what I say!" At first, the passengers were a little confused, but when they saw the revolver in your hand, they slowly realized the situation. A man rose from his seat, which you saw immediately. You aimed the gun at him. "SIT DOWN!" The man immediately sat down when you started yelling at him. "This isn´t a joke! I want your money, your valuables! Everything!!" You carried an old, ragged sack with you. Fortunately, it was still in very good condition, so that no valuables or gold could slip through. You had found this bag on the street and finally took it with you. "Didn't you understand me?! Hurry up!" While the first passengers began to empty their pockets, you had no idea that there was a marshal in this train compartment. Marshal Tom Davies. He watched the situation closely and slowly pulled out his revolver. The man didn't know how dangerous you were, so he carefully watched the situation.

When the time came, Marshal Davies intervened. You heard a click, then you felt the barrel of a revolver on the back of your head, and now you knew it was over. "Take your gun down! Slowly." Pure horror was visible in your eyes, and you instantly became pale in the face. You couldn't describe your fear in one word - it was endless. You would be arrested, taken to a prison. And if you didn't want to die today, the smartest decision would be to listen to the man behind you who was threatening you with a gun. You slowly took your weapon down, and the marshal immediately grabbed your revolver, dragging it out of your hand. He roughly reached for your arms to tiding your wrists behind your back. "You are in great trouble, lady!" You said no sound, just sobbed softly. He was right. You have committed a great stupidity. How could you believe that you would be able to raid a train? "You're lucky the guards didn't catch you, Missy! Otherwise, you would be dead now!" The marshal turned you around, pulled the black veil from your face, and looked at you. You saw that he was a little surprised. For whatever reason. He saw your tears, saw the shame on your face. But he was a man of the law and had to follow his rules. He remained silent for a few seconds, looking at you with his blue eye. There was an eye patch over his right eye. He also has a very distinctive mustache. "I'll take you to Straweberry, Miss! I will hand you over to the sheriff." No word came over your lips. There was nothing you could say. There was nothing you could do. It was over. The man pulled you with him, past all the people who looked at you with their evil eyes - you couldn't blame them. "To do such stupidity! What were you thinking, girl?!"

John Marston, who was also in the same train compartment as you, saw you being led away from that marshal. John frowned, wondering if he had seen you before. You seemed very familiar to him. The emptiness and the fear in your eyes, he had seen it before. The young man looked down at the floor, thinking about what had happened here a few minutes ago. He had seen everything. What John had recognized from the beginning was that you had no idea of robberies. You had no structure in your process, no plan, and he had seen how nervous you had been during the raid robbery.

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Strawberry, the next morning...

The sheriff had been really kind to you, and you couldn't complain that you were in a prison cell. After all, you had a bed and a warm blanket. You even had a hot meal. It was just a little porridge and a cup of tea, but it was better than starving. For a week you hadn't eaten anything except some fruits, bread, and nuts that you had stolen. You were starving. You didn't even know how to hunt an animal. "You are lucky that nobody was injured. Still, you will have to be in prison for a few months." You didn't answer the sheriff, looking at the spittoon that was in the corner of your cell. "Tomorrow, you´ll be taken to Saint-Denis prison." You sighed softly when you heard that, and you had to admit that it scared you to be put in a bigger prison. You would no longer have privacy, which deeply embarrassed you. You hadn't even peed in the chamber pot that was next to your bed. You had held it back. Accordingly, you had terrible pain in the lower abdomen and around your kidneys. The sheriff had told you he would leave you alone so you could have your peace, but that didn't convince you. "How long will I have to stay in prison, Sir?" "I don't know. But I guess it'll be for two months. Except someone pays your bail." Who should pay bail for you? You didn't even ask how high it was. For what? You had to make friends with the idea of ​​being locked up for the next few months. It was your fault. You couldn´t judge anyone for the circumstances. "I'm sorry, Miss." "..." The sheriff saw the poor creature sitting in this cell, waiting silently for its fate. The man wondered what had happened in your life. He saw how malnourished you were, your dirty clothes, your tousled hair. He felt so sorry for you.

When it got later, and the darkness announced, someone entered the prison. "Can I help you, Sir?" "Yes. I'm here for the young lady." When you heard that, you didn't believe first that you were meant. But who else should be meant? No other prisoners were seen except you. You looked curiously at the young man who spoke to the sheriff. Hope sparkled in your eyes as you listened to the conversation. "What's your name, Sir?" "Jim Milton." "Do you know this young lady, Mister Milton?" John glanced over at you, saw the same sad expression on your face he had seen on the train the day before. You said nothing when the young man looked you in the eye intensely. "Yes, Sir. I Do." John said this without taking his eyes off you, but your gaze lowered to the ground. Why did this strange man help you? You couldn't remember him. Who was he? "Well, I'm afraid I can only release the lady on bail." "How much?" John asked without hesitation. When you heard the price the sheriff mentioned, you got sick. It was a lot of money, and you were sure that the stranger wouldn´t pay to free you. Certainly not without expecting anything in return. But you were wrong. John took out a small bundle of banknotes, counted them. "Here's a twenty-dollar deposit. You'll get the rest tomorrow." But the sheriff just shook his head. He couldn't just let you go. "I'm sorry my boy, but tomorrow she will be transferred to Saint-Denis!" You weren't sure if you should be happy or cry about it. You were so confused, exhausted, and you were afraid.

John sighed softly, glancing into the cell. He saw this young girl, and he didn't want her to have to sit in this prison any longer. What should he do? Then he suddenly remembered that he was carrying a watch for which he actually had no use. The young man pulled them out of his pocket to place it on the sheriff's desk. "That's all I have. It's worth at least twenty dollars!" The sheriff took the piece and examined it closely. He liked what he saw. "This is a platinum pocket watch. Are you sure you want to give it away?" It looks like he could buy you in freedom. Platinum was in high demand. "I think so, sheriff." "Well, then. You can take back the twenty dollars. This watch is enough. She is a free woman now." The sheriff rose from his chair to go to your cell. John followed, and when the sheriff opened the door, you looked at the young man with wide eyes. You just couldn't believe that a completely strange man helped you. But why? What reason did he have to help you? Of course, you had some concerns at the moment. You were on your own, and therefore a simple victim. You wouldn´t have the strength to defend yourself against this man. But you didn't want to think about it, and when you looked closely, the young man didn't make the impression that he wanted to harm you. "You can go." You slowly stepped out of the cell, looking at the unknown man who had got you out of this mess. His eyes bored into yours what you could hardly stand, and finally, you lower your eyes again. You sure looked horrible. Tousled hair, dirt on clothes, and face. What a shame, you toughed. "I don't want to see you here again, missy. Got it?" You nodded to the older man, smiling weakly. "Thank you very much, Sir. You have been really kind to me." "Take care of that girl, boy!" John nodded to the sheriff before turning back to you and gesturing to the door. You looked up at the young man with concern. He wanted you to follow him? You were visibly confused, and John saw it clearly. "Oh, um... I just want to talk to you", he replied quickly, because he didn't want to scare you. You fold your arms into each other, slowly looked at his face again. Finally, and without saying another word, you left the prison with him. It was already getting dark, and certainly colder too, which made you freeze. You sighed, your breath was visible in the dark night. Of course, John didn´t miss this fact. He took off his coat to hand it over to you. But when he got closer, you startled a bit, looking at him with eyes wide open. John cleared his throat, took a step back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to give you my coat." You were very surprised by so much kindness since it has been a while that someone took care of you. Hesitantly, you took the black coat. "Thanks a lot." You put it on, feeling how the wool gave warmth to you. That was much better. But one thing was still unclear. Why did he help you? "Listen, I'm very thankful for your help. But..." You shook your head while you looked at him in confusion. "How and... why? I mean..."

You didn't know how to express your insecurity, but John already had an answer for you. "I was on the train when you tried to rob the passengers!" When he said that, some things became clear. So, he had seen you and heard that you would be taken to Strawberry. Guilty took hold of you again, and you didn't dare to look at the stranger. Your eyes lowered to the ground, full of regret and shame. "I- I... had no choice. I was in need... I have no money, no food, nothing.", you said softly while tears burned into your eyes. It was hard. John knew the meaning of famine, he knew it all too well. His eyes were full of pity. You were so young! What had happened in your life that you had to live under such conditions? "I was a fool to think I could rob a train! My god...I had also been robbed. I know how bad it feels, and I was going to do the same to other people." John frowned as you continued to speak. So the same thing happened to you before? "A robbery, Miss?" “Yes. As it turned out afterward, two members of the Van der linde gang had robbed the train. I was there." John's eyes widened in shock when he heard that. He swallowed nervously, frowned again. Now everything fits together. That girl whose necklace he had stolen - that was you! The young man was speechless. He couldn't believe that he had actually met you again. That's why you looked so familiar to him! He had never forgotten your eyes, or rather, the fear in your eyes had haunted him for years. At that time, you begged him to leave you alone, but he simply tore the piece of jewelry from your neck. And now you stood in front of him. "What happened back then, if you don´t mind me to ask?" “Something very valuable had been stolen from me. But for this guy, it was nothing more than a necklace. He ripped it off my neck." You didn't know why you were telling him this, but it felt good to talk about it.

John sighed slowly, stroking his black hair. Good god... Was it his fault that you have to live in such a condition? Did he throw you into this misfortune? God, he had terrible remorse. How should he ever make it up to you? John said nothing. He had actually intended to give you back your piece of jewelry, but now that you were standing in front of him, he didn't have the courage to reveal himself to you.

"I know... what you're feeling right now. Really. It's not an easy life." When he said that, you looked up at him in surprise. So he didn't judge you for what you had done? You could very well remember the looks of some passengers. They had looked at you with anger, with scorn. "It was a long time ago, I also lived on the street. I know what it means to go hungry." You nodded when he said that, looking at the ground again, and sighing softly. It became quiet between you both. "My name is Jo... Jim Milton!" "I know. You said that to the sheriff earlier.", you reply softly, causing John to smile. "My name is Y/N L/N." "Miss, is there anyone I can take you? To your parents...? Or..." "No. There is nobody." His question almost broke your heart. You didn't want to be reminded of your parents, it was too painful. When John heard that you had no one, he sighed softly. He felt so sorry for you. No money, no food, and no family... that was too much pain. "I hope you will forgive me Mister Milton, but I can't give you anything except my thanks." You were about to take his coat off when he stopped you. "Wait." You looked at him curiously. What else did he want to tell you? "I run a ranch. Beecher's hope. I want to give you the opportunity to help me with my work." When he said that, your eyes widened. You knew this was a unique chance that you shouldn't throw away. John wanted to help you live a better life. That was the least he could do for you. "The only thing I can offer you right now is a hot meal and a bed. No money." "Really?" That sounded unbelievable to you. This man came out of nowhere and offered you a job? It was hard to believe. You knew that you should never trust a stranger, but in that case, you had no choice. Of course, anything could happen. Maybe this Jim Milton was a psychopath? He offered you a job, and damn! You knew how to run a ranch!

"Yes. I'm serious." "Okay then." You nodded at him, accepting his offer. "Maybe you should rest. You should spend the night in the hotel, eating a hot meal. It's a long way to Beachers Hope." "I have no money." John was aware of this, and he nodded to you. "I know. Let me pay for it." You snuggled into the warm coat, searching protection in the fabric because you didn't know why he did all of this. This seemed so suspicious to you. But John just wanted to help you. He felt guilty, and therefore he had an urge to give you something back. He couldn't reverse what he had done to you many years ago, but he could help you now. "It's okay. Really." You said nothing, just looking at your feet, and you didn't know whether you should accept his offer or not. You reminded yourself to be careful because it would be naive to think that he only did this out of kindness.

John saw your insecurity, and he didn't know what to do to convince you. Maybe he should leave you alone? But he couldn't and didn't want to let you down. He knew how dangerous life on the street was. How heartless this world could be. "Miss L/N, at least let me buy you a hot meal." Hot food sounded so damn delicious. Oh, you would sell your soul for a warm piece of meat with potatoes. Just at that thought, your stomach grumbled. "Okay." You were very thankful, yet so insecure. But you followed Jim Milton, as he walked to the hotel, which was only a few steps away. The thought of working on a ranch soon calmed you down a bit. You just wanted to live a peaceful life and finding a place in this cruel world...

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The next morning...

It felt so good to be able to sleep in a proper bed, and the hot bath had been damned good. You felt relaxed and clean this morning. The hot meal last night had also been a blessing for your stomach. You also had washed your dirty clothes, which hopefully would be dry soon since you didn't wear a single piece of clothing. You turned on your side, sighing softly as you slid your hand under the pillow. You looked out of the window, watching the beautiful sky, and suddenly, you felt hope. That stranger Jim Milton had entered your life, but you didn't know why he helped you. Maybe he was just a nice guy, and yes, maybe you should just trust him. A few days ago you slept on the street, and now you were lying in a cozy bed. John had also rented a room, but he hadn't slept last night. He still couldn't believe he met you. It was so strange. His inner voice had made him follow you to Strawberry. He usually stayed out of other people's business, but he felt sorry for you. He had seen immediately that you had never raided a train before. You were very lucky that you were still alive. How could you do such a dangerous project on your own? That was insane! "Jesus..." He just couldn't get rid of the idea that he had ruined your life...

[galadrieljones]

The Lily Farm - Chapter 48

AO3 | Masterpost

Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: After Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. What takes place at first is a simple love story: full of trials and journeys that they must endure together, as a team. But over time, things complicate. The gang is in trouble, and as Arthur and Mary Beth aim to set out on their own one day, they must find a way to help those they love while eventually, finding escape. Their ultimate goal is to go north with the Marstons, to find the bucolic stretches of Wisconsin where, rumor has it, there are lily farms. Will they make it? How will they survive when all hope seems lost? This is their story.

Chapter 48: Wayward Sons and Wayward Daughters

“Arthur?” said Mary Beth, handing him the binoculars. “What the hell is all them lawmen doing down there?”

Arthur was flattened out on the chilly top of a hill, Mary Beth by his side, just the two of them, dressed warm, breathing the crisp air. The snow was finally starting to fall. It had held off all night, but the sky looked heavy as hell now. Charlotte hung back, unsure of what was going on. She had gathered some red winter berries into a basket, which she would use for their juices, to dye a new pair of gloves.

“I ain’t rightly sure, Mary Beth,” said Arthur. He spotted a dozen of them, moving about the town in parasitic pairs, asking questions. “They ain’t Pinkertons though. That’s for sure.”

“What the hell are they?” she said. “Can’t all be with the sheriff. I doubt they got more than two deputies in this dump.”

“They’re federal prison guards.” He gave her a look, closed his eyes and took a mighty breath. “A couple of county guys, too. From all over. Goddammit.”

“How can you tell they’re prison guards?”

“It says Sisika Penitentiary, right there, on their arm badges. If you look real close, you can see.”

“Shit,” said Mary Beth, looking through the binoculars again. She was bundled up in her red coat with a hood. Her hair was floofed forward and getting in her eyes. Arthur pushed it away for her. She thanked him, bit off a hangnail. Then she said, “You think it’s to do with John?”

“I don’t know,” said Arthur. He took back the binoculars, stuffed them in his satchel. Then he helped her to her feet. “But I do know I can’t go down there. Not today, and neither can you. I got no idea if they got the drop on us. I ain’t seen no wanted posters, but who knows.”

“Wanted posters?” said Charlotte. She was coming up the hill with her basket, wearing her lovely shawl with a paisley embroidery. She was a sight to see, looking like a figure from a snow globe. “What do you mean, wanted posters?”

“Oh,” said Mary Beth. She looked at Arthur, a little exasperated. He shrugged. He was not wearing his hat, and the snow was catching in his eyebrows. Mary Beth went to Charlotte and said, “It really ain’t what you think.”

“What do you think I think?”

“I don’t know,” said Mary Beth. “That were murderers?”

Arthur sighed. “Jesus Christ, Mary Beth.”

“What?”

“I don’t think your murderers,” said Charlotte, taking one little step forward in her leather boots. “I mean, you couldn’t be. Could you?”

Arthur took a deep breath and hung his head. “We ain’t wanted for…murdering,” he said. “Not exactly.” Then he looked right at her, squared up. “But we are on the run, Charlotte. Me and Mary Beth. No use lying by omission no more. It's how we ended up out here in the first place.”

“On the run?”

“We’re outlaws,” said Mary Beth. “But we’re trying to get out, to escape, and start over.” She placed one hand on her sloped belly. “It ain’t easy.”

Charlotte was looking at them now like they were both crazy. Not in fear, just like she had no idea what the hell they were talking about. “You’re…outlaws?” she said. “Like stagecoach robbers?”

Arthur smiled and tried not to look too strained. She knew very little, which was a good thing. “Stagecoach robbing is somewhat old fashioned,” he said. “But yes. Trains, stagecoaches, banks. You name it, I've robbed it. But not Mary Beth. She don’t do that. And I don’t do those things no more.”

“I only rob rich men, not stagecoaches,” Mary Beth said, like she was real proud of herself. But then Arthur gave her a look and she remembered who she was talking to and corrected herself. “I mean—rich men who got it coming. I pickpocket, mostly. But like Arthur said. Not no more.”

“We don’t hurt innocent people,” reassured Arthur. “Okay? That’s rule number one. I promise, you’re safe with us.”

Charlotte stood a little frozen, with her mouth open. The snowflakes had picked up between them. The air wasn’t too cold, so they were big and fat. “All right,” she said, eventually, like she wasn’t sure what else she could say. “I mean, thank you for telling me the truth. I trust you.”

“You do?” said Mary Beth.

“You’ve helped me for two weeks,” she said. “You’ve been nothing but generous and kind. You’ve asked for nothing in return. I have to no reason not to trust you.”

“Good,” said Arthur. He patted her on the shoulder. This seemed to comfort her. “That’s real good.”

“What is it that you need to get in Annesburg?” she said. She took another step forward, this one more certain than the last. She stood on her tip-toes to assess what was going on down there, from the ridge line.

“We need to check the mail,” said Arthur. “We are expecting important correspondence from friends and have been for some time. And I was gonna grab a few supplies. Some salt, maybe. Coffee. Ammunition.”

“That’s it?” said Charlotte.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She looked around, holding to her basket. She then tightened the shawl around her shoulders and said, with confidence, “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” said Mary Beth.

“Of course,” she said. “It’s the least I can do. What name should I ask about at the post office? Arthur Morgan, or is there an alias?”

Arthur was a little surprised by her astuteness in the situation. “Ask for Arthur Callahan," he said.

“Sure thing,” said Charlotte. She handed Mary Beth the basket and proceeded to mount her horse. “I’ll be right back.”

“Are you sure?” said Arthur. “You don’t have to do this.”

Charlotte smiled, pulled on the reins. “Absolutely,” she said. “Do you want ammunition for just your rifle, or are there other kinds?”

“Uh,” said Arthur. He thought fast, took a page out of his journal, and scribbled up a little list for her. He handed it up. “There you go.”

She scanned it, nodded, and folded it into her dress pocket.

“We’ll keep watch on you,” said Mary Beth. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

She trotted her filly back toward the path, down the ridge.

“That went…unexpectedly,” said Arthur, putting his arm around Mary Beth as they watched Charlotte go.

“You’re telling me.”

Once she got down to the snowy town, Charlotte rode up to a hitching post outside the store. She tied up her old girl and dismounted, her scarf tied tightly around her hair, and the shawl delicately tied around her shoulders. Her clothing was, perhaps, too fine for this place. She felt she stuck out. But as long as she kept her eyes straight forward and her mouth in a low smile, she did not seem to catch anyone’s eye.

She went to the store first to buy the supplies for Arthur. It was not well-stocked, but they had everything she needed. She also bought a tin of chocolate for Mary Beth. She thought it would be a nice surprise, and a treat. She had never been pregnant, but she had known women who were, and they all seemed to like chocolate a great deal. After she left the store, she crossed the street to the post office, which was in the same building as the train station. She went up to the man and said, “Hello, sir. I need to check my mail.”

“Name?” said the clerk. He did not even look up from his paper.

“Arthur Callahan.”

This piqued his interest. He gave her a funny sort of look. He was smoking a cigarette.

“Arthur is my brother,” she corrected. “He hurt his back, in the mine. I’m—well, I’m in town, helping out. Until he’s better.”

This softened the man right away. Like all she needed was to say something, anything, and be her indelible self. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

He closed his newspaper and turned around. He was wearing white gloves. He checked many compartments, lined up in a big grid. After a moment or two, he turned around, holding an envelope. “You’re in luck,” he said. He handed it to her.

She took the letter, pleasantly surprised, and tucked it into her pocket with the list from before. “Thank you, good sir,” she said.

“You’re welcome, ma’am. I hope your brother’s condition improves directly.”

“Me, too,” she said, and she smiled. She lingered then. She had one more thing to do. “May I—may I post a letter as well?” she said.

“Of course. Where to?"

"Philadelphia."

"Postage is two cents.”

She paid the man and handed him the letter. As she let it go, she felt an enormous wave of nausea wash over her. It tipped her off balance, and she had to lean into the counter to catch herself.

“Ma’am?” said the clerk. He was kind, with blue eyes. “Ma'am, are you all right?”

“Oh,” she said. She placed one hand over her eyes to collect herself. “Yes. I’m sorry. Just a little hungry, I suppose. It’s been a lot of…work.”

“Well, take care of yourself now,” said the man. “You hear?”

She smiled softly. “Yes, I hear.”

She turned to go. Bracing, she took a deep breath in, and a long breath out. She felt proud of herself, in that moment. She felt proud, and she allowed it to be so. She was proud of her bravery and of her mission accomplished. She tried looking forward, not back. But when she got outside the door, the cold hit her like a sledge hammer. The letter she had posted, she had written several weeks before. It was for Cal's parents, and his sister. She broke down sobbing, but only for a moment. She pulled herself together quickly, wiped her cheeks on the back of her gloves, and faced forward.

A woman had followed her out the door. Charlotte thought nothing of it at first. She had not seen her while inside, was surprised to see her now, but that meant nothing. The woman wore a long, dark men’s overcoat, with the hood pulled up so that half her face appeared in shadow. She withdrew one of her hands from her pocket and held it out, as if in a peace offering. They could both see their breath out there on the lonely platform, beside the empty train tracks. “Excuse me,” said the strange woman. “Miss, may I talk to you?”

“Yes?” Charlotte, standing very still near the door.

“I think maybe you can help me,” said the woman. She had a deep, scratchy voice. Like she’d spent her whole life screaming.

“I don't see how."

“Did I just—hear me out, okay? Did I just hear you asking the clerk in there to check the mail for Arthur Callahan?”

Charlotte looked around. Her heart ceased up, then began to race. She thought she had been caught. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she said. She placed her hand on the door handle, prepared to go back in. “Good day.”

“Wait,” said the woman. She held up both her hands, in surrender now. Then she took down her hood. She looked very worried and very tired. She was pretty, but she had a scar on her face that meant business. “I ain’t law. I promise.”

“Who are you?” said Charlotte.

The woman got closer. A man came out the door then, casually, into the cold. He was just your average joe miner, barrel-chested and balding, in a dirty duster with tails and a scarf. He nodded to the women chivalrously, went away across the train tracks with his hands in his pockets. The strange woman lowered her voice then, getting closer. “I am a friend,” she said. “A very close friend, of Arthur and Mary Beth.”

Charlotte blinked, several times.

The woman smiled. She nodded, in excitement. “Are you with them?”

Charlotte said nothing.

“Take me to them, please?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Please, trust me,” reasoned the woman. She held out her hand, for a shake. “My name is Sadie. Sadie Adler.”

Charlotte shook Sadie’s hand, with hesitance. “I’m Charlotte.”

“You been helping them, Charlotte?”

Charlotte felt suddenly plunged into some sort of underworld. It was mildly exciting, but she did not know how to act. She usually knew how to act, having been raised in a society of manners. But none of that did her much good now. “Not really,” she said. “They’ve actually been helping me. I am new to the area. I needed a bit of…introduction.”

“Yeah, that sounds like them,” said Sadie.

“If I take you to them, will that get the into trouble?” said Charlotte.

Sadie was offended, but like she was trying to see apples for apples. Charlotte was protective, and overly suspicious. Those were good traits where Sadie came from. “No, of course I ain’t gonna get them into trouble,” said Sadie. “I’m a friend. Didn’t I mention that?”

“You did,” said Charlotte. “I just—I told them I would do this favor for them. I didn’t expect to run into one of their friends. I’m simply calculating how to proceed.”

“Well they’re gonna be glad to see me,” said Sadie. “You rest assured, Miss Charlotte.”

“Are you wanted, too?”

Sadie pulled her hood up again. “Something like that,” she said.

Sadie did not have a horse. She had hiked down to the town from her hide-out, on reconnaissance. The two women walked side by side in the falling snow. Charlotte took her filly by the reins and together they just exited town together, no questions asked. In this way, it was easy to be a woman. Nobody suspected a damn thing.

When they got up the path to the ridge line, Charlotte could see that Arthur was very alarmed to see that she was not alone. He placed his hand on the pistol at his side. He didn’t seem to recognize the other woman, not at first, and for a moment, Charlotte thought she had made a grave mistake. Mary Beth had dozed off atop her horse, but Arthur shook her awake. She sat up, looking confused, and Arthur drew his gun and stepped in front of her.

“Wait,” said Charlotte. She set down the bag of coffee, salt, and bullets.

“Charlotte, who's this?” said Arthur.

“It's me." Sadie took a step forward. She put her hood back, the snow catching in her hair. She put her hands up, a sight for sore eyes. “Surprise, I guess.”

“Sadie?” said Mary Beth. She hopped down from the horse, rushed to her immediately, and took her into a massive embrace. It happened so fast, Sadie was taken for shock. Plus, Mary Beth was stronger than she looked. “Oh my god. It's you!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Mary Beth.”

“Mrs. Adler?” said Arthur. He holstered his gun, got to her in about two long strides. “What on god's earth are you doing here?"

"Here on business,” she said, blowing into her hands as she and Mary Beth parted their embrace. “The shady kind. Obviously.”

“Is all these lawmen on your tail?"

“Afraid so,” said Sadie. “I got John with me, too. Busted him out of Sisika not two days ago. He’s hid out in a cabin north of town.”

“How the hell did you pull that off?”

She smiled, kind of sly. “Your Texas Ranger buddies was a big help,” she said. “I’ll tell you all about it. Later. For now, the law is on our asses like green on grass. Running into Charlotte here couldn’t’ve been better timing.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” said Charlotte. She reached into her pocket, withdrew the note. “Here.” She handed it to Arthur. “There was actually a letter. For Arthur Callahan, just like you said.”

He drew perplexed. He took the envelope, and then he looked right at Sadie who seemed as surprised as he was. “This from Hosea?” he said.

“Not a clue,” said Sadie, shoving her hands in her pockets. “But maybe we could get indoors before we get to deciphering what comes next. I am freezing my ass off.”

“That is a good idea,” said Charlotte.

Arthur looked at Mary Beth. She was happy to see Sadie, but she did seem a little cold. Her nose was red. Arthur tucked the envelope in his satchel and said, “I agree."

“We can go back to my house,” said Charlotte. “There's plenty of room. Do we need to stop, and get your other friend. John, was it?”

They were all taken aback by Charlotte. Her calm commitment to the situation, which was uncanny in its immediacy, was a reassurance. Her cheeks were a little splotchy though, as if she had been crying. Still, Arthur and Mary Beth knew not to ask too much about that anymore, unless she offered. "Yes," said Arthur, nodding in agreement. "We need to pick up John."

Sadie rode Mary Beth's horse, while Mary Beth rode with Arthur. They followed a backwater trail north of town so as to avoid the main road. They ran into a cougar who'd got waylaid by the snow at one point. Arthur scared it off with a couple shots from his pistol. When they got to the shack Sadie knocked on the door in a premeditated fashion, as if they had established a secret code. The structure was well hidden, in a clump of pine trees, with about two inches of snow layered on the tin roof. It looked like an old hide-out, shiners. There was smoke coming out the chimney.

Then they heard John's voice. "Come on in."

When they got inside, Sadie went first. John did not look up right away. Mary Beth was disturbed by what she saw, by the smallness of the shack, and how cold it was inside, even as the fire blazed in the stove. John was sitting at a small kitchen table with a woolen blanket over his shoulders. He was a goddam bag of bones, she thought. She had never seen him so skinny, with sunken cheeks, and his hair chopped short, his beard grown long. He was staring at his knuckles, which looked like they had a lot of old bruises healing under new bruises. He had one battered eye, too. His leg was going under the table, wobbling a millions miles per hour. "You get the whiskey?" he said.

"I got a whole hell of a lot more than whiskey," said Sadie.

Finally, he looked up, to where they were all standing in the doorway. When he saw, he blinked, stood so fast that the chair tipped over onto its side. "Arthur?" he said. "Mary Beth?"

Mary Beth stood in paralysis as Arthur moved past her. He clasped John into his embrace.

John closed his eyes, as relief had finally found its way to the door. "Goddammit, brother," he said.

"You look like shit," said Arthur.

"I feel even worse," said John. "But Jesus Christ, it's good to see you."

Sadie went to the stove to put out the fire. As she did, Mary Beth stood in the doorway with Charlotte and realized how much time had gone by since the night on the riverboat, how it had seemed so slow, for so long. She and Arthur had been isolated in the romantic woods of the Roanoke Valley, ensconced in the privacy of nature, and distracted by their time with Charlotte, for months. But what must it have been like for John? Arthur had never done time in the federal pen. As far as she knew, none of those reprobates had, except for John, and John had done it on a lark to save their lives. As soon as he parted from Arthur, she rushed him and hugged him so hard, he bumped into the table. She could feel his ribs. It was terrible.

"Hey there," he said, laughing still as he got a good look at her. "You're looking good, Mary Beth. You look, uh." He glanced to Arthur, then he looked at her, dumbfounded. "You look pregnant."

She smiled. It was kind of a clumsy, boyish way to say it, but that was the point. It reminded her of home.

[zenexitwrites]

hello all! i was in the @rdrsecretcupid2020 this year and got a super cute partner @nattravn-stuff ! i was quite happy to do some poly arthur/john/abigail for you!  here is the ao3 link and the fic will also be under the cut!

title: sunset rated: T major warnings: none

Arthur sat up in the bed, a groggy sense of heat clinging to him. The kind that made his whole body feel clammy while he slept. Over his chest sat a large bandage, where he had been shot a few days prior by Micah. It had not been in the heart, or any organs, blessed by some unknown grade of god he had never known.

Looking out the window in the small room Arthur had been sleeping in, he could see the lights on the horizon getting low. Reds and pinks mixing together in gentle swirls as the sky began its heavenly descent. There was a tiredness to Arthur’s bones that he had been fighting for months, but wanted to give into so badly. During the time leading up to the final showdown with Micah and Dutch, Arthur was sure he wasn’t going to get out of all of this alive. There was just a sinking feeling deep in his chest, down into the very depths of his bones, that had filled him with dread. A disease like feeling, that Arthur didn’t deserve to get out of all of this alive. Like the best way he could save his soul, or any of those that mattered to him, was to let it all go from his hands. To sacrifice himself on that mountain, to do whatever it took to get John and Abigail, and their family, out of there. 

It was in those moments, watching a sunset not that different from the one Arthur could see right now, that Arthur had let his eyes lower and drop, feeling suns fading light for what he thought would be the last time while clutching bullet wounds he had expected to kill him.

In the end though, it had been more than that. Another had come to the mountain and pulled Arthur off, a desperate John who had learned from a young age never to give up a breath would be the last. A choking noose might feel final, but there could always be one last saving bullet. 

He might not feel worthy in any sort of way, but Arthur had little choice aside from laying there watching that sunset. He could hear faint sounds past the thick wood door that separated Arthur from the rest of the house. It was Abigail in the kitchen, and Arthur could make out the lightest notes of her humming to herself as she worked. He closed his eyes for a moment then, trying to let the moment sink in. This divine world that felt like sunlight on gently blown grass, the kind he never thought himself worthy of. 

John had taken his horse out to go hunting that day, and was now showing Jack outside how to brush him out properly. How to desaddle a horse and clean its hooves, moving over the belts and brushes with his son carefully. Arthur knew after dinner it would be time for Abigail and John to settle Jack into bed, and Arthur cursed himself every night he was just adding another burden on the two of them. Even times like now, where Abigail was singing to herself with a heart full of love, and John was finally learning to show how he really felt towards his son, Arthur couldn’t help the weight on his chest. The guilt that said it was his job as a man and a human to do something for these people, to help make their lives easier. 

A soft but confident knock on the door preceded Abigail opening it a crack and looking in on Arthur before smiling all the way up to her eyes. Arthur had never appreciated the freckles that went across her face until he had spent more time with Miss Roberts in the past few days, her loving hands helping him as best they could. 

“Arthur, are you ready to eat?” Abigail asked, a bowl of stew in her hand. 

Arthur forced a smile on his face. Or, attempted to. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Abigail. In fact, two of the biggest lights in this entire thing had been her and John. Of course, Jack too, but there was something different in the air between the three of them. Something that felt a little bit more charged than before. 

As far as the world knew, Arthur Morgan had died on the mountain. He had bled to death in his weakened state from the injuries he had sustained from Micah. Revenge was a fools game, and John had taken to running with his family instead, leaving this life behind. The world didn’t need to know about Abigail and Jack hudding next to Arthur in the back of a cart, a large cover draped over the two of them while John rode like hell itself was chasing them. Maybe it was, maybe those licks of guilt and shame and death that Arthur felt around the corners of his mind so clearly, had been the kind only a fool like Marston could run from and manage to get away. Hands in his pockets with hard stolen treasures, in this case a family he had never known he needed, with Arthur a man who had never known how to say how much he wanted.

“I could eat.” Arthur said plainly, and tried to sit up before groaning. Pain moved through his body and Abigail sighed loudly while shaking her head.

“You gotta stop doin’ that, Arthur, you know you’re gonna tear your stitches out.” Abigail pulled the wood chair in the room closer to the bed and neatly laid the bowl and spoon in her lap and began to feed Arthur.

Arthur reluctantly sipped on the stew after Abigail would blow gently on it. Miss Roberts made him miss Pearson’s cooking. She wasn’t bad at it exactly, and she put her whole heart into it, but… She wasn’t exactly good. Arthur knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth though, and didn’t complain. He was man enough to admit he never wanted to be on the bad side of Abigail’s anger, especially when she was trying and working so hard to nurse him back to health. 

Hell, even John had been trying. He had come in twice a day to help Arthur up and out of the house out back. For Arthur to take care of his business, and to give him a chance to sit in the wild he cared so much for. Jack had brought coloring equipment to Arthur’s side, and asked him to draw with him. Something that had helped the long hours of the day where Arthur could keep his eyes open go faster. 

There was something so nice about being part of this family, Arthur didn’t think he deserved it, but he couldn’t help but secretly long for the chance to stay. For him to get well on his feet and get to ride with John, bringing home large game they could bicker about who had caught better while Abigail would laugh and tell them to help strip it for dinner. Arthur wanted to teach Jack more, to help the hole in his heart feel a little bit lighter from all the times he had been aching for something just like a son to fill. Arthur wanted to laugh at John and his attempts to dance with Abigail, to try to show them both up when requested, and then be even worse. Arthur wanted to succumb to that Marston charm that everyone fell for so easily, and count stars with him at night once more. He wanted to stand behind Abigail and help her slice vegetables and just get to take in every part of her, and appreciate something in this world that didn’t smell like an outhouse. Arthur knew it was selfish, but he wanted to feel what it would be like to be tucked up between the two of them while he slept. How it would be to have both John and Abigail under his arms, while staring up at a night sky free of society’s touches. 

Getting to the last of the stew, Abigail scraped the bowl getting the last bits to offer Arthur who humbly ate it. She smiled at him again, in a way that made his heart feel light. The kind of smile that could make a man forget about his guilt, his shame and loss, and just get lost in the moment of. 

“Was it good this time?” Abigail asked, looking quite pleased with herself.

“Yes ma'am, it always is.” Arthur said with a small laugh that only made his body ache a little. “Thank you for doing all this for me.”

Abigail rolled her eyes as she stood. She put the bowl on the chair for a moment and began to straighten her dress, pressing down the folds and wrinkles that were on her skirt.

“Arthur, you know it’s not a problem. John and I are happy to do this for you.” Abigail leaned over then and pressed a soft kiss to Arthur’s forehead, and he let his eyes flutter closed for a minute while his cheeks burned hot. 

Before Arthur could reply, Abigail continued.

“John and Jack will be inside soon, they want to eat dinner in here with you. I think Jack is excited to tell you everything about today. Is that alright with you?” Abigail fussed with Arthur’s hair for a moment, finger combing it away from his forehead.

Arthur looked into her eyes and smiled.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

[thefloorisbalaclava]

14. for john?? :3

Here it is. Smut with John Marston. I’m posting this while I still have the nerve to. Enjoy!

John sat across from you, pushing around the food on his plate and taking a bite every now and then. When you talked to him or asked him a question, he would respond, but had that faraway look in his eyes.

“You miss him. I know,” you said and he looked up before looking away quickly. Maybe you said the wrong thing. You shouldn’t have said anything at all, but before you could apologize, John spoke.

“It ain’t just that,” he murmured. “I feel like I let him down somehow.”

“You did exactly what he wanted you to do. Your family is safe because of what he told you.”

“That’s just it…my family, well, they ain’t my family no more. Abigail and me, we really tried. And Jack…he probably hates me. I wasn’t a good father to him and—”

“John, things with you and Abigail ended on good terms, remember? And Jack could never hate you. That boy loves you. You always tell me when you visit he never wants you to go.” You reached over and took his hand. “Arthur would be proud of you.”

“Yeah, I just wish I could feel proud of myself, you know?”

“I know. If it makes you feel any better, I’m proud of you too.” You smiled at him and he gave you his sideways smile.

“You always make me feel better, sugar. Always. How do you always know the right thing to say?” He ran his thumb back and forth over your fingers.

“It’s ‘cause I know you and I love you. I don’t like seein’ you upset and down on yourself. You’re a good man.”

“I must be doin’ somethin’ right if I can get you to stay with me.” He lifted your hand and kissed it then placed it back on the table so he could eat.

“You still flirtin’ with me, John Marston?”

“The day I don’t flirt with you is the day they’ll have to bury me.” He chuckled and finished his dinner then cleared both his dish and yours. “You’ll be real proud of me when you find out what I did today,” he said as he took your hand and helped you out of the chair.

“And what is that?”

“I took a bath while I was in town.” You both laughed as he led you into bedroom but you stopped laughing suddenly as you thought about something. “Don’t make that face. I did it all myself. I promise.”

“We got a bath here, John…”

As he undressed, he explained himself. “I guess I…just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you.” He sat on the bed wearing only his union suit and sighed. “Can’t seem to do nothin’ right. Sorry.”

“John…” You walked over and knelt in front of him. “I’m sorry. It is real nice what you did but next time let me give you your bath like I usually do.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of doin’ things for me? Thought I’d give you a break.”

“I’lI never get tired of doin’ things for you. Ever.” You sat up on your knees so you could kiss him. You began unbuttoning his union suit and he pulled back slightly.

“What are you doin’?” You pulled the top down until he was able to take his arms out. “Hey…”

“What?”

“I…aw hell…” He kissed you harder than you had kissed him then tried to make you stand.

“No. Up,” you commanded and he lifted his hips so you could pull his suit completely off. “Just sit down and let me take care of you.” He leaned back slightly and you kissed his stomach, moving lower with each kiss. He began breathing heavily the lower you went.

“You…you ain’t gotta do that. Shit,” he gasped as you kissed his hips then his thighs.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, looking up at him from where you sat between his legs.

“…no ma'am.” He grunted as you wrapped your hand around his cock. It immediately grew harder in your grasp and you squeezed gently making him curse under his breath.

“John, look at me.” You began stroking him and he bit his lip as he looked down at you. He breathed faster as you moved your mouth towards him and brushed your lips against the tip. He reached down with a trembling hand and placed it on the back of your head as you took him into your mouth.

“Can I…” You looked up and he knew that you were saying yes. He moved his hips, thrusting into your mouth carefully. You let him control the pace tonight. You placed your hands on his thighs to keep yourself steady. He cursed loudly when you sucked harder and suddenly pulled you off of him. You barely had time to catch your breath before he kissed you again. He pulled you off the floor and onto his lap without breaking the kiss. “I gotta have you.”

“I’m yours.” You stood up and undressed, loving that his eyes were on you the whole time.

“Get over here.” He pulled you by your arm and you landed on his lap again with a giggle. His lips brushed against yours as his slipped a hand between your legs and felt just how wet you were for him. “Damn girl…”

“Don’t tease.” You lifted yourself and held him steady as you lowered yourself onto him. “John…” you whimpered.

He grabbed your ass and started moving you just the way he liked, kissing your breasts and teasing your nipples with his tongue. “You treat me so good,” he said, thrusting up into you.

“You deserve it.” You ran your fingers over the scars on his face and he leaned into your touch. He laid his head on your chest as you moved your hips on him and he moved his hips at the same pace. You ran your fingers through his hair and he groaned, holding you tighter against him.

“I wanna…” He lifted you then laid you down on the bed carefully. He spread your legs and immediately nestled his head between your legs to taste you. You pulled on his hair and called out his name as he tasted you, making almost the exact same sounds he made as he ate your cooking. You never wanted him to stop but he had other plans. He stopped, making you whine. “Turn over,” he said before licking his lips. You rolled over onto your stomach and he kissed up and down your spine, nudging your legs open with his knees. He lifted your ass a bit then slowly pushed himself inside of you. “You okay?” he asked, voice huskier than usual.

“Mhmm.” You pulled on the sheets as he moved in and out of you slowly. He placed his hands over yours and squeezed them as he picked up his pace, groaning with each deep thrust. You turned your head to the side to look at him and he leaned down to kiss you, pulling away only to catch his breath.

“Touch yourself, sugar,” he breathed. He let go of one of your hands so you could slip it under yourself and between your legs. It wouldn’t take much longer for you to get there.

John’s thrusts became rougher the longer it went on and he repeatedly hit that sweet spot inside of you. His hair tickled your back as he moved to kiss your back again and whisper things to you.

“I ain’t gonna last much longer,” he warned. You didn’t need him to, you were close enough yourself. He sat up and one of his hands joined yours between your legs. His fingers were rougher and had the right amount of friction that you were looking for. You began meeting his thrusts with your own and you could feel his body tense. You cried out his name as you fell over the edge, pulling him along with you not long after. You came around him, squeezing and throbbing and he had to hold you still before he lost control.

“Fuck!” he shouted before pressing his chest to your back and thrusting in as deep as he could and filling you. Your body went limp but you could still feel him throbbing inside of you, filling you with everything he had. He stayed on top of you for a nice long time, the sticky sweaty feeling not bothering you at all. “Good lord, woman. You are somethin’.”

“I reckon you are too,” you said weakly, hissing as he finally slipped from you. He moved to the side of you and looked at you adoringly.

“What?”

“I just love you is all.” He smirked then closed his eyes. “You wore me out.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“Good I hope.” He moved closer and you snuggled up against him. “You are feelin’ good, right?”

“Yes I am. Real good.” You closed your eyes and sighed.

“Are you really proud of me?” he asked sleepily.

“I sure am.” He made a small sound and you could tell he was smiling without even looking. “I love you,” you whispered but your only response was a quiet snore. You grinned and relaxed against him. You already knew he loved you too.

[elizabeth-marston-roberts]

Snack Time | John Marston x F!Reader |

This was absolutely inspired by @redeadepression and I apologize for nothing. This is also a modern John Marston, and my HCs for Modern John are here!

Pairing: John Marston x F!Reader

Rating: M. 18+ Only

Words: 1754

xx

It's around that time of day where you normally make dinner, so you head to the kitchen. Abigail is out of town for work, so it's just you and John for the week. So far it's been pretty okay, but neither of you have made a move sexually. You'd never gone at it without Abigail being there to watch and tell you exactly what she wants you and John to do.

John should be home any minute now, you think as you glance at the clock. Damn man always came home covered in grease and oil, and while initially he looked sexy like that, it got old quickly when a smear of black grease got on a piece of your clothing. And it was usually on your rear, as John had a thing for greeting you with a kiss and a smack on the ass.

Putting your hands on your hips, you stand in the center of the kitchen, trying to decide what to cook for just you and John. He wasn't a particularly picky eater, but he did have a few gripes about certain foods and meals. Like how he hated black olives, but it wasn't the end of the world if they were on pizza. You'd fallen in love with a strange man.

You're looking in the fridge for an idea to strike you when the front door opens up and you hear John step inside. "I'm home!" His scratchy voice calls for you, and you can hear him set his keys down in the glass bowl Abigail designated just for that purpose due to John always losing his keys.

"In the kitchen!" You call, bending over a little further and perking a brow. What the hell was an empty jar of pickles doing in there? Abigail...

John's heavy footsteps come to the kitchen, and he wolf-whistles when he sees you position. "Heeeey, sweetheart." He says before giving your rear an affectionate tap.

"Your hands better be clean." You say as you shuffle some things around.

"They are, I promise!" He rubs your butt soothingly with one hand, leaning forward against you to show off his other hand, which is in fact clean. "What're you doing?" He asks as he retreats, though the way his hips brush against yours starts to give him ideas.

"Well..."

"That's a deep subject." He snorts, the bastard.

"Shut up, John." You roll your eyes. "I'm trying to figure out what to make for dinner tonight."

"Hmmm..." His dark eyes glaze over, though you wouldn't know it from your current standings. His fingers slip into your waistband and he pulls your shorts down.

"John, what the hell are you doing?" You turn your head slightly to catch a look at him.

He chuckles deeply and runs two slow fingers along your clothed slit. "Found a snack in the fridge, darlin'!" John moves his fingers back up, and then back down again.

"John." You shudder. Sometimes his being a mechanic came in handy for other, more intimate things.

He kneels down and you brace yourself against the refrigerator when he presses a kiss against your underwear. They weren't especially sexy for this occasion, just a simple pair of pink panties, but John loved just about any kind of undies.

He moves the fabric aside and presses another kiss to your slit, this one lingering. "Looks good enough to eat." He murmurs.

"Then do it!" You push your hips back, reaching behind yourself to get a good grip of his dark hair.

"Yes ma'am." John breathes out and practically rips your panties down your legs, diving in. His tongue presses flat against you before he starts his usual routine of quick flicks that in theory had sounded dumb, but in practice often made you come harder than you ever had.

Your hand smacks against the freezer door as you hold yourself up at a better angle for John, and when you look down all you can see is his hands grasping your thighs and his dick swelling in his jeans. You moan softly at the sight combined with the feeling of his ministrations, his facial hair adding an extra but not entirely unwelcome burn. Though when he decided to start fresh and shave it clean, John's head was always between a set of legs, alternating between you and Abi like a champ.

"John... I gotta close this damn fridge." You groan, as the refrigerator was making a noise that indicated it gave no shits about your sexual pleasure.

John growls and continues licking you up, pressing his face against you harder. One hand released your thigh and his fingers were back at work, rubbing your clit. You squeak at the sudden excess of pleasure, pushing down on John's face even more. It'd made you nervous when you first sat on his face in the more traditional way, but once he'd confessed that he really liked the feeling of his face being trapped, it was no holds barred then.

John quickly brings you over the edge, licking and rubbing you through your orgasm. He pulls away and you can hear his heavy breathing as he stands back up, pulls you close to shut the fridge, and then turns you around to face him.

He looks wrecked. His cheeks are flushed, the lower part of his face is shiny with slick that you provided, and his sweet, sweet lips are red and swollen.

The erection in his pants was pretty appealing too.

You kick your short and undies off the rest of the way and make quick work of John's belt, shoving his pants down and then pulling him out of his black boxer briefs, stroking that leaky cock as soon as you could. He hisses at the attention, bucking into your hand.

"You're so wet, John." You murmur. "I love that about you."

You're in his arms now and he's kissing you. He smells like work and while his hands and face are clean, the rest of him isn't. But at this point it's too late to care because you're kissing him back, tasting yourself on his lips, your tongue dancing with his and your teeth occasionally clicking. He was always such an animal when he got horny.

John swoops down, his arms wrapping around your thighs and then he lifts, bracing you against the poor refrigerator. Your calves settle on his shoulders and your hands fly up to the top of the fridge to try and find something to hold onto. He's holding you up with one hand as he guides himself into you, biting down on his tongue and screwing his eyes shut when he's fully seated.

He's breathing so heavily, trying to keep himself composed long enough for you to allow him to cut loose and start pounding. Even like this, he was a sub for you at heart. You lean in and delicately kiss his lips, and he's immediately responsive to it.

"Go." You whisper, and that's all it takes.

His eyes fly open and then he's thrusting, his hands on your hips. The refrigerator is rattling and you're hoping this isn't what makes it kick the bucket, because Abigail would be pissed when she found out. But the thought quickly leaves your mind when John's mouth latches onto your nipple through your shirt, biting down.

"John!" You whine. He somehow has the gall to snicker against you, but he presses a sweet kiss to the offended nipple.

John's tattooed, greasy arm slides around your waist, no doubt ruining your shirt in the process. He moves one of your legs to his other shoulder to join your other leg, groaning at the renewed tightness. His strokes are more powerful now and his moans and groans are more animalistic than you'd ever heard before.

"Fuck, John..." You bite your lip and look at his face. He's staring right back at you, smirking. Bastard.

"It sounds so pretty when you say my name." You've done it now. His ego is inflated and it won't go down until Abigail gets back home. "You look so pretty taking my cock." He leans in and nips your collarbone, turning his head then to begin sucking on your neck. John was always so proud of his hickeys.

You pull his hair while he marks you, still thrusting into you at his punishing pace. You couldn't come like this, but you knew John could and would with the right encouragement, and that would knock his ego down a notch.

"You gonna come?" You whisper. "You gonna pull out and get my stomach all messy? Or are you gonna just barely pull out in time and spray the fridge instead?"

John whimpers at that. Such nasty talk got him so worked up.

"Or do you want to creampie me? Dirty boy..."

His breath catches, but when he pulls away from your neck, you know he's not falling for it this time. Damn him. In an instant your feet are back on the floor and you're facing the fridge once more, and he's right up against your back and sliding his cock back inside of you, ramming you against the refrigerator.

John takes your hands and holds them above your head when you try to rub your clit. "That's my job." He whispers directly into your ear.

"John..."

"I'll take care of you." He coos, the cocky bastard. The hand that isn't holding yours slides down your side and to your clit, his fingertips just barely brushing it.

His hips are smacking against yours hard enough for the sound to be all you can hear anymore. He's grumbling and groaning as he thrusts into you and you know he's close now, which is good because the man has no problem fucking you while you're overstimulated and you really need to make something for dinner.

"God, you feel so good..." He says, throaty and desperately. "So perfect for me. I love you." He bites your shoulder and applies a more constant pressure to your clit, and then it's over.

You're coming and you're clenched around him, practically forcing out his cum. You're flush against the fridge and his body as he comes, his dick throbbing and twitching inside of you as he empties himself.

John kisses your shoulder where he'd bitten you, his breathing ragged. "Pizza for dinner? My treat."

"I think that sounds great." You gasp out. You look the fridge and just laugh softly. This thing will definitely be getting a five-star review online.

[captain039]

A true hero

Arthur Morgan x reader

Summary: You worked in a bar well worked more like sold yourself, your mother being in that business gave you no choice saying you were worthless and only used you for your 'pretty face'. A man shows up one night catching your interest but not his.

Warnings: Prostitution, light swearing, beatings.

It smelt of smoke and whiskey as you walked down the stairs your red dress flowing behind you. Your daddy owned this saloon for over 50 years and his daddy before. Your momma ran the business with him till he passed away and your mother grew cold and hired girls to keep the business going. It disgusted you these poor woman having to do this to survive. You had no choice your mother was strict and used you like every body else did. Men always eyed you and drooled, they paid though you guess it was a good thing and left tips every now and then.

It was the middle of spring as you stood by the stairs fanning yourself gently watching the rich people come through. Saint Denis the land of dreams apparently, until you see what's underneath. You smiled at everyone putting on a show when a man walked in head down making everyone murmur. You frowned slightly seeing his stubble under his hat and strong jaw. He ordered some whiskey and sat in the corner as everyone continued their task. You felt someone grab you by the hip spinning you around into a chest. You giggled it off running your hands up the mans chest acting.

"Hello sugar" He purred moving to grab your ass, you gasped smiling it off wishing you could punch him.

"How much?" he whispered nipping your ear. You really didnt want to you looked up seeing your mother glaring as you gulped.

"5" You whispered he smirked waving some money in your face.

"How bout 10 and I get to do anything" He purred again, you nodded as he smirked in victory taking you upstairs. You were shaking you dont know why though the man seemed off but you could never deny a customer. He started kissing you as soon as you got through the door running his hands up and down before pushing you to the bed roughly. You gasped as he smirked taking his belt off turning it into a whip. You froze not another one like this.

"Roll over" You could only listen and cry as he had his way. The door broke though the mysterious man standing there before knocking the guy out by bashing his head on the bed side table. You let out a whimper, your back was saw so was your ass.

"Ma'am?" his deep voice called you thanked him quietly sitting up hissing in pain.

"I'm fine thank you sir" You wiped your eyes quickly running out. You gripped your sink as you washed your face your makeup ruined from crying. Your mother barged in anger spread across her face, she slapped you twice .

"You are a disappointment!" She yelled storming out huffing. You held your cheek more tears flowing as you got dressed looking at the mark's on your back. You were forced out again the next night praying no one would want you. The man showed up again his eyes scanning till they landed on you, you quickly looked away as a man walked up handing you a five dollar notes. You grabbed his hand gently leading him upstairs when a hand grabbed your wrist.

"The hell?" The man growled.

"She ain't for sale" the mysterious man said his eyes cold looking at the man.

"I paid" He growled.

"I just said, she ain't for sale" He punched the guy sending him running as he brought you to sit down.

"Sir, I-i well need customers my ma will get mad and well" You sighed talking quietly.

"Your forced to do this?" he questioned you nodded.

"My Ma" you whispered sadly, he scoffed leaning back into the chair.

"She gave you that?" he asked pointing to the redness on your face.

"Yes sir" you said quietly ashamed.

"What's your name sir?" you questioned getting off the subject.

"Arthur, Arthur Morgan" He said softly.

"Y/n Y/l/n" you gently shook his hand when your mother stormed to you, you quickly got up realizing what you had done when Arthur stood in front of you.

"Mrs. Y/l/n, your daughter is doing her job" He growled making her scoff.

"Like hell she is you gonna pay or not? other wise I'll make you leave" She growled Arthur put his arms across his chest.

"Miss Y/n is keeping me company last time I checked it's in the job" He said coldly making your mother huff.

"Mr. I'm telling you to watch it that is my daughter she listens to me" She hissed but he seemed unfazed.

"Mrs, your daughter was whipped yesterday by some animal, you dont care I'm pretty sure its happen before by the way she handled it and also hitting her into submission is cowardly" He sneered a smirk on his face, your mother scoffed stomping her foot.

"Out of my saloon" She yelled causing everyone to look.

"Miss Y/n?" he held out his arm to you making you frown.

"Will you accompany me?" he asked smiling to you. You nodded holding his arm as you walked down the stairs your mother yelling. You got outside the breeze hitting your face it's been so long you smiled looking to the moon.

"Come on miss" Arthur said getting onto his horse. You rode with him unsure where but you felt safe.

"How would you like to stay with me? I live with my best friend well more like a brother he has a wife a child I'm sure they'll welcome you" You froze at the offer.

"Like live?" he nodded glancing back to you.

"Mr Marston and Mrs Marston would like you I reckon so would little Jack" He said.

"We got another gal who comes by Sadie shes nice tough son of a bitch though" he snickered shaking his head.

"Wouldnt I be a burden?" you asked.

"Burden? hell no that life you were living ain't no way to live, come see the world" He said he sounded so amazing all these dreams. You could only nod smiling as he ride to your new home.

beechers hope by Blackwater it was nice and open the home was beautiful. Abigail was lovely greeting you with hospitality and kindness, Jack was a little shy and John shook your hand nodding as respect. You got along very well they made a space for you it felt unusual to have a home. Abigail started to be like a sister and John well he was the annoying uncle or brother. Arthur though he was your hero knight in shining armor in a sense. He would always smile at you, offer to help when you were doing something and take you out places. He didnt seem real but on that hill were you both sat he held your hand gently as you both looked to the sunset. He kissed you gently so tenderly bringing new emotions with in you. He pulled away worried but you only smiles kissing him again as he embraced you. This was a true man.

[outlawnurse]

He Insists - Chapter II

A RDR2 Modern AU Written by: @ninja-nurse, Inspired by: @heart-of-gold-outlaw, and with special thanks to @ceruleanchillin

Warning: Language, Violence, Spoilers

Introduction | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V

"Where's the other one?"  Arthur asked Sophia, coldly. She raised her eyebrows, "The other what?" "Marston sister?" "I have no idea."  Sophia shook her head, "The last time I saw her, I was going to bed, and she was drunk dancing with Sean by the fire." He nodded, remembering seeing the same thing. "Why are you looking for her?" He seemed confused by the question, "I don't...  I just wanted to make sure she was doing ok.  She was pretty drunk last night, and seemed ... sad." "She's literally like a hundred a fifty years younger than you."   "I thought she was thirty-seven?"  He scratched the back of his head.   She shook her head, taking her coffee back to her tent, "Keep your syphilis to yourself, cowboy." "What did I say?"  Arthur put his arms up, somewhat hurt, "I don't even have syphilis."  He turned to head back to his tent and saw the woman stumble out of the woods.  He walked over to her, "Are you ok?" She looked at him, fixing her skirt, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to pee with this skirt on?" "I can't say that I do."  He shook his head, trying to to laugh at the woman. "...and why are there so many layers to this thing.  What is even happening right now?" "Are you still drunk?" "No!"  She snorted out, finally looking up at him. He just looked at her. "Yes."  She let out a nasally giggle, as she walked toward the table, sitting down, "I think we stopped drinking like ... just when the sun came up." He snickered, "Would you like some coffee?" "I would love some coffee, Arthur Morgan.  Yes, I would."  She stretched her arms out across the table, laying her head down. He shook his head, walking away. "Is she ok?"  Hosea asked, seeing the woman laying across the table. Arthur shook his head, as he prepared the coffee, "She's still drunk from last night." "She's not the only one."  Abigail rolled her eyes, joining them. Arthur looked to see John passed out in his tent.  He shook his head. Hosea sighed, "They had quite a shocking couple of days.  I can't imagine that Caitlin would have ever imagined getting to meet her great great grandparents."   Abigail sighed, "I was talking a lot with Sophia last night.  She doesn't seem to know as much about us as Caitlin does, but they both seem like good girls." "I suppose she has a heavy burden to bear."  Arthur was intrigued by the woman, "She knows ... everything." "Could you ever imagine knowing what happens before it does, good or bad, not being able to do anything about it?"  Abigail shook her head. The two men looked over at the woman. "What does he want?"  Arthur grumbled, as Micah walked toward the woman. "Easy, son." "I don't like him, and more importantly I don't like how much she doesn't like him."  He gestured, "What does she know?" Hosea shrugged, "I don't...  I don't know, Arthur, but you need to try to at very least be civil with him." "Me?"  He gasped, almost childishly, "Tell him!" The man walked over to the table, seeing the woman lay there.  He ran his hand across her back, "Good morning, sunshine." She smiled to herself, opening her eyes, slowly, "Good morn...."  She gasped, seeing the man, trying to stand up, only to fall out of the chair with a thud. The man laughed, "You are a little drunken mess, aren't you?" "I can do it myself."  She snapped, slapping his hand away, as he tried to help her up. "I'm just trying to help you." "I don't need your help."  She held on to the table for balance, as she stood up. "What is your problem?" "I don't like you." "You don't even know me!" "I knew enough." "Someone tell Marston he better come and get his girl!"  Micah barked.

Arthur and Hosea looked up quickly, as did several of the others. "Why is he messing with her?  It's too damn early for his shit."  Arthur growled. Hosea looked at him.

"Fuck you."  She pushed him. Enraged, the man grabbed the girl by the throat. She put her hands on the man's wrist, scared for her life. "Not so tough now, are we, sweetheart?"  He laughed. "Cait!"  Sophia gasped, coming out of the tent to see what the commotion was. "Let her go."  Arthur clenched his teeth, aiming the gun at the man's head, as he walked toward them. He pushed the woman away from himself, causing her to fall to the ground. Arthur holstered his gun, punching the man in the face, "If you ever put your hands on her again, I will fucking kill you." Abigail helped Caitlin up, Sophia walked over, "Are you ok?" "I'm fine."  She was still angry.   "You're going to regret this, Morgan."  Micah sneered. "I doubt it."  He shook his head.

She took a step toward Micah, as the man walked away, only to have Arthur grab her arm. "No."  He looked at her. "He..." "No."  He pointed to her. "You should have let him hang in Strawberry!" "Yeah, well..." She tried to pry Arthur's fingers from her arm, as his grip, "Let me go!" He let go of her arm, "Are you done?" She nodded. "Caitlin, what was the one goddamn thing I told you to do?"  Sophia yelled at the woman. She looked up suddenly, "Uh oh!  Mom's mad!" "You're still drunk?" "You're still mothering me?" "I wouldn't mother you if you didn't need mothering."  She snapped, "You've been perpetually drunk since mom died." "I have not!" "You have.  You need to get your fucking shit together.  You're going to get yourself killed." "I'm fine!" "He literally almost just killed you!" "No, he didn't."  She waved her hand in the man's direction. "So... What... He was choking you for funsies?" "You know what, Sophia..." "Yeah... You're a Marston alright."  Arthur grabbed Caitlin's arm again, having enough of the girls' bickering, pulling her toward her tent, "Go sleep it off." "I..." "Go."  He lead her to the tent, gently pushing her inside, "You'll be fine, girl." "Arthur..."  She stood with her hands on her hips. "Good night."  He pulled the flaps closed.

"Is she always like that?"  Arthur asked, as the woman reminded her of John. "Hot headed and stubborn?"  Sophia rolled her eyes, "I mean, yes, but it has gotten worse since our mother died." They just looked at her. She nodded, "Our Grandpa Arthur died eight years ago and our father seven years ago ... I don't think she ever fully dealt with all that.  She was very close to them.  She's just always so... angry." "Grandpa Arthur, huh?"  Hosea smirked, looking at Arthur. She nodded, looking at Arthur, "Jack named his son after you." The man stood a little taller, smiling, puffing his chest out with pride. "I suppose he never really forgot about you." "Why would he forget me?"  Arthur asked, almost child-like, "Where would I go?" "I-I, uh... I should go... check on Cait..."  Sophia walked away. Arthur just watched her walk away, wondering what his future held for him. *One Month Later*

It has been a month since the girls appeared on the side of the road outside of Valentine.  They had both settled comfortably into camp, doing their part to help with chores, but tried their best not to interfere with their lives.

"Do you miss home?"  Mary-Beth asked. Caitlin shrugged, "I guess.  I don't know.  I mean...  My sister is all I have left, and I have her here with me, so...  I guess not." "You two are close?" "We always have been." "Less chat and more work, ladies."  Susan ordered, as the two women were doing laundry. They looked at each other, chuckling. "Will you miss this when you're gone?" "Doing laundry?"  She looked at the girl curiously, "You know we still have laundry in my time." The girl laughed, "No, I mean...  Living like this... Here... with all of us." "More than you know."  Caitlin said. Sophia walked by, dropping a pile of clothes on the ground, "Miss Grimshaw wanted me to give this to you." "Of course she did."  Caitlin rolled her eyes, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

*That Afternoon*

Abigail spoke with Susan, "I'm worried about the girls." She just looked at her. "Caitlin looks so sad all the time, and Sophia...  She misses home so much.  I know there's a trip into town today for supplies.  I thought maybe it would be a good idea for them to go... to get out of camp for a bit." "I think that's a great idea."  She nodded.

"Sophia!"  She called out, "Caitlin!" Arthur looked toward Susan, then at the girls, as he sat in his open tent, looking through his journal. John shook his head, eating a bowl of stew at the table, "No one escapes the wrath of Susan Grimshaw." "I did my chores, Susan!"  Caitlin pointed at her, "You're not gonna get me today!" Sophia laughed. Susan smiled, "I know you did, dear, and I also appreciate you helping Mr. Pearson with the food the last couple weeks.  I have to tell you that it's been tasting much better." "Thank you."  She smiled, "Which reminds me, we're running low on spices." "I've asked Arthur to pick some fresh ones while he's out." "Arthur Morgan," Caitlin joked, "outlaw, gunslinger, spice picker!  My hero!" They laughed at her. "Well, you're in a good mood today."  Arthur released his ever elusive smile. She looked back at him, "I am, Mr. Morgan.  Thanks for noticin'." He nodded, looking back at his cards. "Ladies, Mr. Williamson and I are going into Valentine for some supplies.  I thought you would like you join us." "Sure."  Sophia nodded, "It'll be nice to get out of here for a while." "Alright."  Susan nodded, "Mr. Williamson, are we ready?" "Yes, ma'am."  He said, as he finished hitching the horses to the wagon. "You two behave yourselves."  John called out. "Yes, Grandpa John."  Caitlin waved. Arthur let out a snort, as John smiled, "Grandpa John." "Shut up!"  He snapped, at his friend, his smiled turning into a sneer. Sophia snickered, "He's younger than us right now." "That's what makes it so funny!"  Caitlin laughed at herself.

The two girls looked around the general store, as Bill loaded the wagon. "I have a present for you girls."  Susan said. They looked at each other, then at her. "I know you've been stuck wearing those pieced together outfits for the past month.  I thought it would be nice if you each had a dress of your own." "You don't have to do that."  Sophia shook her head. "I know."  She said, "I want to.  You girls are so far from home, and are burdened with so much.  I thought it would cheer you up a bit." "Thank you!"  The girls said, together.

The two tried several dresses on, finally settling on ones they liked. Sophia held up the purple and white dress, whispering, "Do you think we can keep them when we go home?" "I hope so!"  Caitlin said, holding the blue dress up to herself, looking in the mirror. "Can I wrap those for you, ladies?"  The store keeper asked. "Yes."  Caitlin handed him her dress, "Thank you." "Thank you."  Sophia nodded, as the man took the dress from her.

Bill walked in as Susan paid for the dresses, "The wagon is all packed.  Should we head  back?" The woman nodded, "We'll be out in one minute." "Ok."  

"I know you ladies would probably like to go home, but it's been nice having you here."  Susan said, "I always appreciate the extra help with chores, and you two really carry your own weight." They both smiled, politely. "It's also been good for John.  I never thought that boy would grow up, but he's really starting to take his responsibilities seriously.  He's been spending more time with Abigail and Jack, and he's been keeping up on his chores.  It's good." Bill laughed, "I have to say, I'm impressed with you girls too.  You've been here this long and haven't run, screaming for the hills yet." "It's not so bad."  Caitlin shrugged. "Well, I don't know how long we've got ya for," Bill said, "but it's nice to have ya.  I'm gonna be sad to see ya go when the time comes." "Thank you, Mr. Williamson."  Sophia smiled, "We'll miss you too." Caitlin smiled politely, but it faded quickly, as she rolled her eyes. Sophia looked at her, questioningly, whispering, as Susan and Bill spoke in the front of the wagon, "Do you know something about him that I don't?" She nodded, not saying what she knew. Sophia sat up, "No wonder you're miserable.  You know too goddamn much." "You think?"

They arrived back at camp and immediately started unpacking the wagon.   "We've trained all our lives for this."  Sophia said, "All those times mommy and daddy went food shopping and made us carry in all the bags and put everything away." "Miss Marston," Pearson called to her, "There's no more room in my wagon, you'll have to put..." Caitlin put her hand up, "Worry not, Mr. Pearson.  I will tetris the shit out of your wagon.  It'll all fit." "Tetris?"  He repeated, "I don't... understand." "No, she's like the queen of getting things to fit in spaces they shouldn't." "That's what she said."  Caitlin chuckled to herself. Sophia laughed. "That's what who said?" "What?" "You said, 'that's what she said', but who said that?" "No, Mr. Pearson, it's...  No one said it."  She hopped down from his wagon, after some rearranging, "It's just a thing people say." "I don't think I understand this future world of yours." "Yeah."  Sophia shook her head, "We don't either."

As the girls walked back to their tent, Dutch called over to them. "Would you ladies care for a game of poker?" "I'm good."  Sophia shook her head, "I'm not much of a card player." "I'll play."  Caitlin shrugged, "I don't really have any money though." "I'll lend you a couple of dollars to start."  Dutch pat the chair beside him, "Come.  Sit."

She looked around the table, as Hosea and Micah turned in their cards from the last game. "I never met me a real lady that could beat me at poker."  Micah said. "Something tells me you've never spent much time around a real lady, Mr. Bell."  She retorted. "I had a woman once."  He sat a little taller. "Whores don't count."  She raised her eyebrow. "Hey!"  He stood up, banging his hand on the table, pointing at her, "She was a good woman!" Arthur looked toward the table, hearing the man's voice. Caitlin put her hands up, "My bad..." Dutch looked at the two, "Are we going to have a problem here?" Micah clenched his jaw, "No, Dutch.  Of course not." "I'll deal."  Hosea said.

They played a few hands.  Caitlin studied the men, looking for any sign of bluffing.  She decided to play the hand she was dealt.  She looked at the cards.  She held a two of diamonds and a seven of clubs. They all placed their bets before Hosea turned the first three cards over on the table.  It was the queen of hearts, the ten of spades, and the nine of hearts.  Her face remained unchanging.  They all bet again and the forth card was placed on the table.  It was the four of spades.  After one more round of betting, the final card was placed on the table. It was the two of hearts. "I fold."  Dutch dropped his cards on the table. "Fold."  Hosea shook his head. "Well, how about you future girl?" "I'll call and raise you a dollar." She dropped money into the pot. He grinned, "I'm all in, baby." She nodded, pushing the rest of her coins in. He grew nervous. Dutch and Hosea leaned in closer. "Ladies first." "A pair of twos."  She laid her cards down. "Oh, my..."  Hosea looked at her, "Caitie, dear, that's not...." "Son of a bitch!"  Micah threw his cards down. Dutch looked at them, "You went all in with nothing?" "I thought she was bluffing and would fold." "I was!"  She let out a squeal, "Ah ha ha!  I won!" "This is horse shit!"  Micah stormed away from the table. Caitlin sorted the money, "Here's what I borrowed from you, Mr. Van der Linde, and here is a bit of interest." "Thank you, my dear.  It's been a pleasure doing business with you." "...and also with you."  She bowed her head to him, stuffing the coins in her dress pocket. Lenny walked over to the table, "Have a good ride, Arthur!" "Yup."  He called back. He looked at the table, "Y'all got room for one more at this little party?" “Where’s he going?”  Cait watched Arthur tacking up his horse. “He’s going on a job for Strauss.”  Lenny said, as he took Micah's seat, “Apparently this man owes him money, and he wants Arthur to shake him down.” “What man?” “Downes I think?”  He shrugged, “I don’t know.” "Thomas Downes?" "That sounds about right."  Lenny looked up at the woman, "He's got a farm West of...  Valentine.  Where's she going?" Caitlin’s heart sank, “No!”  She took off running, before Lenny could finish his sentence. Sophia looked up, as she chat with Javier at the camp fire. “Arthur!  Wait!”  She yelled, as he mounted the stallion.

The entire camp looked up, hearing the urgency and desperation in the woman's voice. “Ssssssshit!”   Sophia stood up, mumbling under her breath. Arthur looked at the woman, almost amused by her urgency, “Hey, girl, what’s gotten into you?” She held the horse’s reins in one hand, putting the other hand on his leg, “You can’t go!” He felt her small fingers gripping his ankle tightly.  He grinned, but after seeing the look of terror on her face, the grin faded away. “Cait!”  Sophia called after her. “I won’t be gone long.”  He looked at her curiously, "A day or two at most." “Please.  I’m begging you.”  Her eyes filled with tears, “Don’t go.  Don’t go on this job.  Just let him be.  I’ll ... I’ll pay the debt.  I’ll do anything.  Please, just don't...” His brow furrowed, suddenly feeling uneasy.  

They all looked at her. Abigail looked at Tilly, grabbing her arm, "Get John." She nodded, rushing down the path, as the man was guarding the camp.  It was only a minute before the two came running back. John handed Abigail his rifle, "Keep the boy here.” She nodded.

“Caitlin!”  Sophia scowled, “What do you think you’re doing?” “I can’t let him...  He can’t go!” “You can’t interfere.”  She pushed the girl hard. She fell to the ground, “Just give me this one....  I promise I won’t get involved in anything else!” “What’s he to you anyway?”  She gestured toward the man. She shook her head, crying, unable to speak.

Arthur dismounted the horse, standing behind the arguing women as John came over, “Your girls are out of control, Marston.” John shook his head, "What the hell is going on?"

“Please... just.... let this happen, ok?”  Caitlin cried out, "I swear I won't interfere anymore.  I won't!  Please." Sophia threw her hands up, walking away, “Whatever.” “You don’t understand.”  Caitlin gasped out, calling after her, suddenly realizing everyone was staring at her, “I’m not crazy!” "No one thinks your crazy."  Arthur shook his head. "I mean, she's a little..."  Micah gestured to his own head, twirling his finger. "Piss off, Micah."  Charles snapped standing beside the man. John sighed, “Come here, Sweetheart.” She cried into his chest, as the man knelt in front of her. He smoothed her hair. She pulled away sniffling, “Mr. Morgan... Arthur, please promise me you will leave Thomas Downes alone.  You can’t go after him.  You can't go anywhere near him.  I will pay the debt.  I will figure out a way to make money and pay back Strauss myself.  Please, just...  Promise me?” John looked at Arthur. Arthur's gaze shifted from the woman, to John, to the rest of the camp, then back to Caitlin. She stood up, still crying, “Please?” “I won’t.”  He said, nervously, “I promise.” She flung herself into his arms, hugging him tightly, around his neck, clutching at his shirt, as if to bring him closer to her. He looked stunned, his arms out.  His whole body tensed, but relaxed as he wrapped his arms around her, “Sssh.  It’s ok.  You're alright.” Leopold looked worriedly toward Reverend Swanson, “What does that girl know?” “Everything.”  He said, calmly.

“What have you done?”  Sophia pushed her sister hard, again, after joining her in their tent. “I can’t let him go there!  It’s a death sentence.” “Caitlin, you’re changing too much of the past.” “I can’t let him die!” “We all have to die sometime."  Sophia put her arms out, "You saving him now doesn't change the fact that he won't be there when we go home." "...but maybe I can give him a better life." "A better life?"  Sophia shook her head, "Listen, I’m so sorry that you fell in love with him.  I truly am, but you need to stop interfering.” “They deserve better than what happened to them.” “They’re criminals.  They knew what they were getting themselves into.  Do you think they were sorry when they robbed that ferry in Blackwater?  Do you think Dutch was sorry when he killed that woman?  Do you think Arthur was sorry when he pointed his gun in your face the day we got here?" “Arthur was fourteen when Dutch took him in.  John was twelve.”  She said, “They were children.  They didn’t know any better.  You think Dutch is going to let them walk away?  That man is slowly losing his goddamn mind.” “...and you’re not too far behind him.”  Sophia stormed out.  She stopped suddenly, seeing John standing on the opposite side of the tent. “Are you ok?” She just walked by him, saying nothing. "Give them a little time, son."  Hosea said. John lowered his head, walking away.

*Late That Night*

Arthur tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, unable to stop thinking about the woman, and how desperate she was to keep him from going on that job.  He couldn't help but wonder what she was trying to protect him from today.  He looked out, seeing a figure standing near the cliff side.

Caitlin wrapped her arms around herself, as she stood, looking into the darkness.  She could hear coyotes in the distance. "There she is."   She closed her eyes, as she heard the voice behind her. "You ok?"  He asked, standing beside her. She nodded, slowly. "You wanna talk about it?" "I made a fool of myself today."  She said, "I had a complete meltdown in front of everyone." "No one thinks any less of you, darlin'." She was quiet, unable to look at the man. He couldn't stop looking at her, "Why didn't you want me to go on that job?" She looked at him, her cheeks streaked with tears, "I can't tell you." He sighed, feeling as though he knew the answer.  He cupped her jaw with his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.  His heart broke seeing the pain in her eyes.  There was something about this woman from the future, the great great granddaughter of his friend John Marston, that mesmorized him.  He kissed her on the cheek, still holding her face, "Thank you for saving me." She looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. He looked at her for a minute, before pressing his lips to hers. She looked up at him, before resting her head on his chest, as he hugged her, his arms wrapped tightly around her neck, as she put her arms around his waist.

To Be Continued…………