#rdr. rdr secret santa 2020

[bicolor-art]

Merry (late) christmas @capskat26!!!! I was so happy to receive a fellow Arthur/Albert enthusiast for a giftee!! I couldnt decide between a few drafts but these two were my favorites :’3 hope you like ‘em!!!!!

(fun fact! All the flowers in Arthur’s lapel were subtle gay signifiers from the late 19th/early 20th century💖🌻)

[prairiemule]

Happy Holidays @mephistia-arts!!! Here’s the vector portrait of John I made you for the @rdr-secret-santa event! 💜✨

[commodoresam]

Well after 84 years I can finally come out to say that @graaid I was your secret Santa!

So sorry it took so long but I tried to make up for the lateness with as much of your prompt as you asked. Just a tad bit of angst sadly, but ya know... as a treat there’s a few details to look out for

Reblogs welcomed

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Snowmelt

Hey hey, @12timetraveler! Merry late Christmas, I was your @rdr-secret-santa​!

Summary: After testing your luck with the weather during a hunting trip with Charles, the two of you are stuck inside a cabin in Ambarino until the snowstorm passes.

Warnings: Smutty smut smut

Word Count: 2,534

A/N: I was hesitant on writing this since I’ve only written Charles once, and never in this perspective. I hope I did him justice for you!

You knew the weather would get worse.

Ambarino always had that bitter chill in the air, one you were familiar with each and every time you and Charles traveled up here for hunting. Between the two of you, a decision of whether to stay or leave would be based on subtle patterns observed within nature. This morning was still and quiet, not a cloud in the sky. The sun carved a path for you and the elk within the mountain forests.

Despite this, however, a feeling in your gut told you to not dwell within the wilderness for too long. Charles assured you that you’d be gone within the hour, but time escaped you. One hour melded into two, and you took advantage of nature’s bounty. Even with satchels full of small game and both horses laden with carcasses, the impending storm arrived with a powerful rage.

What was once a clear sky turned a smoky gray, thick flakes and bitter wind battering your barely covered face. Charles led the way, his lantern and the slightly visible Appaloosa pelt of Taima a comforting sight. His voice carried with the wind, assuring you were with him at all times.

An indescribable amount of time passed before Charles managed to find an old cabin which thankfully had no dwellers. Removing your nearly frozen limbs from your horse as he took both steeds, you trudged through the thick snow to hurry inside. Scant on furniture aside from a small table and a worn bed in the corner and the lack of many provisions, it seemed as if this place had been abandoned for a while. Thankfully there was a fireplace with some wood, which you took the liberty of igniting. Just as the flames began to kindle, the door opened again to reveal Charles.

“Just brought the horses into a small barn closeby,” he spoke as he shoved the door closed. His large body trembled with a slight shiver. “Guess we should have called it earlier.”

You half-smiled and nodded at him. “We got a little greedy.”

He chuckled in response, stepping closer to hold his hands out toward the growing fire. “I suppose we did. No telling how long this storm will last, hopefully we can leave in the morning.”

“If not, we have days of beans,” you pointed out, turning to pull out two cans from your satchel. “Might as well make the best of it.”

Charles smiled warmly at you. “Might as well,” he agreed.

Within ten minutes the little cabin had warmed up significantly, illuminating the walls with an amber glow. The two of you settled at the table with the beans, thankful to have something hot in your belly after spending the day in the cold. Your snow-soaked outer clothing hung above the fireplace to dry. Idle chatter kept you busy during the otherwise silent meal, occasionally quieting down to hear the howl of the wind from outside.

Despite the satiation, a deep chill settled within your bones. Even the warmth of the fire wasn’t enough to combat it. The clothing that remained help a slight dampness that didn’t seem to completely dry. After dinner, you settled on the musty fur rug in front of the fire, not tired enough to sleep, a slight shiver overtook your body.

“Still cold?” Charles’ voice sounded from behind you. After dinner he took the liberty to straighten up the bed before you settled in for the night.

You sighed. Wrapping your cardigan tighter around your shoulders, you nodded. “It’s taking forever for me to warm up. I think my clothes are damp.”

With his body coming into your peripheral view, he knelt down. The tubbing of the fabric on your body indicated his touch. “They are,” he stated, sitting down completely next to you. “Come here.”

You didn’t have an opportunity to ask what he meant, when his arms wrapped around you. He pulled you into his lap, the heat from his body immediately encompassing you. Without hesitation you leaned against his chest, a smile forming on your lips. “Thanks.”

His own lips pressed against your crown, squeezing you tighter against him for a moment. “You should take those clothes off,” he murmured quietly.

You peered up at him with curiosity.

“Gotta let them dry,” he pointed out. “And let you warm up properly.”

“Wouldn’t I be colder?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“Body heat warms you up, and it’s faster when you’re not covered in damp clothes,” he explained.

You took a moment to consider his words. It did make sense after all. With a small nod you began to awkwardly strip of your layers. He’s seen you in much less, so it didn’t bother you in the slightest.

He helped you, his deft hands easily removing the fabric. From your cardigan, to your shirt and pants, you were now down to the union suit that remained dry. The slight chill in the air soon disappeared, and you felt much more comfortable.

“Better?” he asked once you settled back into his lap.

Smiling up at him you leaned up to place a kiss on his lips in thanks. He reciprocated, wrapping his strong arms around you gently to hold you to him. His mouth moved softly against yours, his fingers tangling into your hair. You absolutely loved when he did that, as if it was his own way of claiming you.

After a moment, he pulled back, peering down at you with a soft brown gaze. Those gorgeous eyes could melt you in the spot with the heat of the desert. It was one of the many things that you fell for early on. Eyes that held wisdom that you’d never even learned about if it weren’t for him.

Your fingers carded through his thick raven hair, locks dampened and glistening in the faint firelight. Some days you couldn’t comprehend how gorgeous he was. Without a second thought, you helped yourself to another kiss. Deeper and more passionate than the second, Charles did not hesitate to meet you with equal eagerness.

Losing control over your hands, gripping hair to clothing to arms. Every inch you wanted to take for yourself. He seemed to act in the same manner, his grip on your waist pulling you even closer to his frame. Through your union suit his light touch left a tingle against your skin. Within mere moments you were feeling much warmer, much faster than you’d ever thought. A small fire of your own stoked in your belly, first as a spark erupting into something stronger.

Charles seemed to pick up on this. With you flush with his torso, his hands roamed your back, from your shoulders all the way down to your butt. A touch growing more fervent with each passing moment. One hand rounded to your front, popping open the buttons with ease to expose more of your skin.

Pulling back as he reached halfway down your abdomen, you gave him a look.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

“No fair when you’re still mostly dressed,” you pointed out with a smirk, reaching forward to run your hand down his chest. Even through the fabric the build of his muscles was apparent. You couldn’t wait to see.

He chuckled in response, catching your hand and bringing it to his lips, warm and soft, pressing them to your knuckles. “You’re right, I should fix that.”

Before you could respond, he wrapped his arms around you and stood up, carrying you with ease to the bed in the corner. Upon laying you against the spread, he towered over you with an almost intimidating air. You shuddered involuntarily, watching as he slowly shed his layers, once by one, until he was down to his own union suit. As he began to unbutton, you sat up and gripped his hand.

“I want to do this part,”

He nodded silently, his hand going limp as you took to your duty. With ease each button became undone, slowly revealing his gorgeous skin from underneath. Pushing aside the woolen fabric, your hands immediately went for the expanse of his chest, internally sweeping aside the remaining confinements. First his upper torso was exposed, pulling his arms out before stepping from the leggings.

There he stood before you, his cacao skin bare, holding a faint golden shimmer of the flames. You gazed him up and down, admiring every inch with a smile. He met your eye and leaned toward you, hand raising to caress your chin. His thumb traced your lips, gazing at you with such love before finishing what he started with you. And soon you were as nude as he was.

Yet with you on the bed and him still standing, you wanted to tackle him then and there.

His even gaze swept over your naked body slowly, drinking in the sight like a hungry predator. Biting your lip, a surge of excitement shot through you. He drew closer, placing his hands on either side of you, caging your figure in as he climbed onto the bed, the frame groaning beneath his weight. He bent down to place his lips upon the crook of your neck, creating a path of gentle kisses down to the valley of your breasts. His fingers toyed with your hardening nipples, alternating his mouth and hand to give each equal attention. You moaned and tilted your head back, whispering his name, running your fingers through his hair once again.

His deep voice hummed against your soft skin with satisfaction. It didn’t take much longer for him to seek your center, his touch gentle through your wet folds. He soon found that sweet sensitive button of flesh that left your body singing for him. Your hips ground into his palm, desperate for further contact. He chuckled and slid a finger in, making a small noise to find how soaked you were already.

You were not unaware of the presence soon pressing against your inner thigh. Reaching for it, your hand wrapping around his girth. Hot to the touch, he pulsed in your grip with excitement. It tugged a smile out of you, soon accompanied with a long moan as he continued to worship your body. Sliding the length through your fingers, you’d memorized every inch of the velvet surface a hundred times over. Each and every moment still felt like the first.

“You’re soaking,” he murmured to you, dragging his lips back up to the junction of your neck. “I know that’s not from the snow.”

Heat crept into your cheeks and you giggled shyly. “It is very…warm in here,” you joked.

He hummed in amusement, drawing a lazy trail back up to your lips, eliciting a sweet but short kiss. “Are you ready, love?” He asked, peering down at you in anticipation.

Hell, you were always ready. With a single nod, your hands moved to his shoulders. He kissed you again, deeply and passionately, as he adjusted himself to line with your entrance. Gliding the smooth head through your folds, soaking himself with your juices, he effectively slid within you.

God, you could never not love the way he stretched your walls with that initial invasion. You’ve had others before, however no one matched him. Well-endowed yet never reckless with use. A soft sigh escaped your lips as he buried himself to the hilt.

A warm hand caressed your cheek, boring his eyes deeply into yours with silent anticipation. He always waited, assuring that you were completely ready beforehand. You offered him another nod, tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear.

The first few thrusts always stole your breath away. Heavy hips rolling against your more delicate frame with the most precise angle and pressure to build your peak. His name passed your lips, over and over, your fingers gripping his neck, his broad shoulders, his long hair, his muscular back. He busied his mouth to mark and abuse your soft flesh, leaving no area of your neck and chest untouched.

Within moments, his hand snaked between the two of you, honing on your center again. With a fresh wave of pleasure, you moaned loudly, tilting your head back for your voice to carry into the cabin’s old walls. You were thankful you were alone out here.

“That’s it, I love hearing your voice,” Charles crooned, his own voice husky from his ecstasy. “Give me more,” he demanded in smooth, low voice. Hastening his touch on you, his hips quickened as well.

And so you did, caving in to his wish without hesitation. Your moaning soon turned into a loud whine. Constantly stoking your inner fire, building it into a blaze deep within your belly. It wouldn’t be much longer until you burst.

Except he slowed down, favoring long and slow strokes to reach deep, pulling along that sensitive area that had you keening. Your back arched, head thrown back into the pillow to call out his name once again. Legs tangling around his torso. Nails scored his flesh, earning a low groan from him. Your name graced his lips with a deep growl.

“Love, let me feel you,”

Your body responded faster than your conscious mind. I mere seconds, your peak crashed over and rippled every inch of your body, manifesting itself as a high pitched squeal. “Charles!” you shouted out, your legs tightening around him, quivering as he milked the last of it until you whined of overstimulation. He eased his touch on you, pressure just barely there but still tangible enough to further tease you.

His lips found yours, drawing you in for another deep kiss. His hand left the space between your legs to wrap around your waist, holding you tight and abruptly pistoning into you, a sign that he too was close. You could do nothing but hold on while he used your body to chase his own release, unleashing a guttural groan into your mouth.

Within moments, he ripped his lips away to utter a strained, breathless swear. Your legs fell limp as he pulled himself out swiftly, just in time for his hot seed to spill across your belly.

He panted heavily above you, his frame shaking and he sunk down to press his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes and slid your hand to the back of his head, burying your fingers into his thick hair as you pulled him in for another kiss. He melted to your touch, relaxing yet careful not to place his full weight upon you.

Moments passed before he rolled to your side, taking a huge breath before his arm immediately sought your waist. You obliged, rolling over to allow your back to rest against his chest.

It was silent, the two of you lost in a fatigued bliss while Charles’ breathing returned to normal, and your now sweaty body began to slowly cool back down.

“I’m nice and warm now,” you quietly said with a faint giggle.

Charles chuckled with amusement, pressing his lips to the back of your neck. His hand traced down your arm to take your hand, entwining his fingers with yours. “Me too. I suppose it’s not terrible being snowed in up here.”

[mephistia-arts]

Hey @my-funky-little-cowboy, I am your secret santa for the @rdr-secret-santa event! 

I hope you like this little Tillyvier piece 💗 (I know it’s a little cliche but sdkjlghsdjkh it was fun to draw it!)

Happy Holidays! 🥰💖💖

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Arthur x gn!reader

Characters: Reader, Simon Pearson, Mary Linton, Arthur Morgan

Word count: 3306

Summary: You and Arthur have recently made your relationship official by moving into his tent...but is he really into you...or is he still holding onto his past?

Notes: SFW, Angst leading to fluff

After requesting several wonderful stories from one of my favourite writers and people, I was super honoured to have the chance to be able to write something for the super talented and lovely @littlestarofthewest -  Merry Christmas from your secret santa 😘😘

Also a huge thank you to @horsegirl1h (who helped me plot this out) @verai-marcel (for wrangling in all my stupid grammatical mistakes) & @mileycyprus-hill who took a quick look over this and gave me a much better character note on how to improve Arthur's feelings in this story and give me a far better title I could ever think of myself. Thank you all 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

The First Shall Be Forgotten

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find the cot next to you still empty. It was fairly late when you'd finally taken yourself off to bed last night, but you had found yourself unable to keep your eyes open as you'd sat around the scout fire. Your hope of Arthur riding back into camp and joining you in lying down for the night had turned into a wishful dream of waking up with his strong arms wrapped around you, but it turns out it was just that - merely a pleasant dream. 

It was only a few months since you'd started dating, with most of that time spent being inseparable, but lately you noticed that Arthur was staying away from camp longer and longer. Yes - the events of Blackwater had changed the gang's luck and the likes of Dutch and Strauss kept giving Arthur more and more tasks to do, but you'd felt like that most of these jobs could be done well before nightfall. Surely Arthur wasn't avoiding you because he was bored of you already….could he?

You sat upright, shaking your head free of any more of those nasty thoughts, quickly making the decision that you should get dressed and help out around camp before Miss Grimshaw marched over to berate you for wasting so much time idling about.

There was a chill floating in the air this morning in camp and so you found yourself shivering as you looked around for your light jacket. Opening your shared trunk, you proceeded to pile a mixture of both yours and Arthur's clothes on to the cot in your quest to find your missing coat. Though you soon found yourself distracted as you lifted one of Arthur's shirts up, tutting to yourself as you saw just how worn and dirt stained they all were. You swore that that man would wear these offending items until they fell apart on him...and some were close to doing so, judging by how often they'd been patched up.

   "Ah, there you are," Pearson's cheerful voice booming from behind you, making you jump out of your skin, "I need a helping hand gathering supplies in town and was wondering if you could come along with me for the ride"

   "Me? Surely there's someone more capable about?" Although Valentine was only a short ride away, the idea of being Mr. Pearson's captive audience for that short length of time was not high on your list of priorities for the day. 

   "Well, I don't know if you noticed but we are stretched a little thin on the ground right now," his hands gesturing to the almost empty camp area in front of you, "Mr. Smith & Mr. Escuella are yet to return from Blackwater with young Sean and, as you well know, Mr. Morgan is still yet to return from wherever he has took himself off to. As for the girls..." you tried to stifle a chuckle as he trailed off to glance nervously over at where Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen were currently sitting at their wagon, making sure they couldn't hear this conversation, "...I'd rather not ask them. Uncle told me of the trouble they got up to on their last visit into Valentine."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at Pearson's fear of trying to keep three excited young women from creating chaos. "Sorry, sorry," you apologised, wiping your eyes as he looked at you with confusion, "Well...since you have no other options, I'll join you. I've been wanting to pick Arthur up a new shirt anyways." Spotting your jacket at the bottom of the truck, you quickly threw it on, leaving all the other clothes heaped on the bed, "Shall we go now then?"

"Goddamit, why does there have to be a train in the station?" you grumbled as Pearson pulled the horses to a stop at the crossing, which was blocked by one of the carriages belonging to the offending train. After being waylaid by the shop boy slowly loading the wagon with all the goods Pearson had chosen for camp - not that any of these ingredients would do much to improve his cooking, you cruelly thought to yourself - your head was starting to ache from listening to Pearson's constant tall tales. All you had wanted to do was get back to camp and sleep off your headache, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, thanks to this stupid train.

   "I know what you mean, I was hoping to get back and make a start on preparing supper," Pearson sighed before suddenly cheering up, "But, hey, at least it gives me more time to tell you about my time at sea. There was this other time..."

Internally, you found yourself groaning, trying to zone out the older man as he recounted yet another story, that this time seemed to involve him somehow, inexplicably fighting a walrus -  single-handedly -  to save his crew.

You glanced around, finding yourself admiring all the different horses hitched up around the station...until a familiar sight caught your eye.

   "Hey isn't that Brutus?" you interrupted Pearson mid-sentence, gesturing towards the big, black Shire horse that Hosea had gifted Arthur a few weeks ago. Arthur had rarely named his horses after losing his beloved Boudicca in Blackwater and was more than content to just refer to this one as "Boy", but after overhearing Hosea called this giant a brute, you'd jokingly suggested the name Brutus, a name that had tickled Arthur and agreed it was the perfect name for this beast.

Put out a little by the fact you had rudely interrupted him just as the story was getting good, Pearson grudgingly glanced over to the direction in which you were pointing.

   "Er, it does look like it. So anyway after I killed the Walrus with nothing but my bare hands…" 

   'So this is where you've gotten to Morgan,' you thought to yourself, once again not listening to Pearson's story. 'Here's hoping you're on your way home too.'

Smiling to yourself that your lover would hopefully be by your side once more, you absent-mindedly found yourself scanning the crowd of people that was starting to thin out as they slowly stepped onto the carriages...until you saw him standing with his back to you.

A smile started to creep over your face as you recognised Arthur's dirty blond hair, broad frame and filthy blue shirt. Just the fact you could see how dirty it was from this distance made you glad that you'd made the decision to buy him a new one now, as that one needed throwing out, never mind a good wash. Anybody would think that man spent most of his time rolling around in the mud than riding a horse around.

With his hands on his gun belt, he shifted his weight to one side and the smile on your face was replaced with a look of confusion as a young lady was revealed to be standing next to him, deep in an intimate conversation.

Unconsciously scowling at her, you were unable to shake the feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of you, you couldn't quite place where.

You squinted your eyes to try and focus your vision on her delicate features before a feeling of rage bubbled up from your stomach as she kissed Arthur's cheek, in a way that suggested more than just friendship.

"And I'll tell you - I used that walrus meat to feed a crew of 50...and not one of them complained the way you and the rest of camp do about my cooking" Pearson waffled on down your ear, distracting you from your thoughts about this mysterious woman and how you wanted to jump down and throttle her. Instead you suddenly had the urge to wrap your hands around the cook's neck. 

Turning to face him, you barked, "Maybe being at sea for weeks at end with no food makes people more appreciative of the slop you always manage to serve up - no matter the ingredients." 

You instantly felt regret as the words left your mouth and you saw the hurt in the older man's eyes.

   "Christ, I'm sorry Mr. Pearson. I didn’t mean to take it out on you..." You paused, thinking about telling him about what you just saw, but you doubted this old sea dog would give a damn about your love life and so explained "I just have a real bad headache and it's put me in a bad mood."

He nodded softly and turned away so you wouldn't see him wipe the sting of the tears from his eyes.

Feeling guilty from the hurt you just caused, you looked away to the source of your own pain, only to find Arthur had disappeared from the platform and the train was now pulling out the station. Had he gotten on board with his mystery woman? Gone off to start a new life with her and left you and the outlaw life behind him? These thoughts rattled around your head as Pearson told the horses to giddy up and the pair of you headed back to camp in an awkward silence.

Jumping down from the wagon, you helped Pearson unload the wagon - still with an uneasy tension in the air, before you tried to broker the peace between you both by offering to help prepare the next meal as a peace offering.

   "No, it's quite okay," Pearson patted you shoulder to show there was no hard feelings, "You go sleep off that sore head of yours"

You nodded appreciatively, finding yourself thanking him and apologising once more as you picked up the wrapped parcel containing Arthur's new shirt, and headed back to your tent. 

As you walked over, you rolled your eyes in annoyance at yourself as you caught sight of the mess you'd left behind this morning. Picking the mountain of clothes up, you threw them in straight at the trunk at the end of the cot, surprising yourself as you heard a loud clatter of something hitting the side of the chest and then dropping onto the floor.

Peering over, you saw that a few shirts and a pair of trousers had missed their target and were now scattered over the floor... alongside a wooden photoframe, laying face down on the ground, that definitely wasn't there before.

Picking it up, you recognised the image of a younger, but still very handsome version of Arthur standing on the left.

'You've always been a good-looking bastard haven't you?' half smiling as you took in his handsome features, 'No wonder you have a long list of admirers to spend all your time instead of me.'

Well before you and Arthur had started dating, you had seen this photograph before. You recalled picking it up from his bedside table back then too, in order to get a closer look of how attractive Arthur's always been.

But sometime between then and making your relationship official, Arthur must have removed it and hidden it out of sight from you. Just as you were about to ask yourself why, you spotted who else was in the picture.

   'No…no it can't be,' you thought to yourself as you stared at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing next to him in the image. But, as much as you didn’t want it to be, it certainly was. Looking straight back at you was a younger version of the same woman from the train station…the same woman who had ripped Arthur's heart out and tore it into a million pieces all those years ago when she called off their engagement - Mary.

Time seemed to slow down as your mind went into overdrive. Did he simply remove the picture as a thoughtful gesture so you wouldn't wake up to a younger Arthur and his ex-fiancee looking at you…or did he hide it because he still loved her and her alone? Were you just a stopgap - something to fill the emptiness in his heart until she came back to him? Is that the real reason Arthur had hidden the picture and not gotten rid of it completely? So once he had managed to win her back, he could toss you aside and place it once more on his bedside to stare lovingly at while he held her in his arms?

You hadn’t realise you were crying or just how hard you were gripping the frame until you heard the sudden sound of glass cracking and a mix of your blood and tears began to streak all over her stupid, perfect face. Standing frozen to the spot, you stared and stared at her image, slowly disappearing under the physical manifestations of your hurt and betrayal, until you heard Arthur bellow out your name as he rode back into camp.

   "Hey you. Boy, did I sure miss you while I was gone," he cheerfully greeted you as he strode towards you, "I tell you, there's some strange sights out there that I've been dyin' to tell you all 'bout."

   "Tell me?" you snarled, acting the wounded animal you currently felt like, "Don't you have other people you'd rather spend your time with?"

   "What? What's got into you?" 

Your heart panged as you saw the hurt cross his face as he saw how upset you were. 

"Listen, if this 'bout me spendin' so much time from camp recently, then I am sorry - but I did miss you somethin' fierce y'know" he assured you, placing his arms around your waist.

   "Just like you've missed Mary for all these years?" Just saying her name out loud felt like you had tasted venom on your lips and needed to quickly spit it out.

"Mary? Where's all this comin' from?" He flustered, averting his eyes downwards as not to meet your steely gaze. Upon seeing you holding the photograph, he exclaimed, "Christ alive, you're bleedin'. Here lemme fix you up."

"I'm fine," you snapped at him, pulling your hand away from his gentle touch. Any other time, this small act of affection - the big mean outlaw gently cradling your hand in his - would have made you melt on the spot, but today your inner rage wasn't having any of it. Instead you blurted out, "I saw you. At the train station…with her."

Realising he had been caught out and couldn't bluff his way out of this sorry mess, he sat down on the cot and tried to explain.

   "Okay, yeah, I was at the train station with her, but it really ain't what you think…"

   "I saw her kiss you."

  "You mean when she kissed my cheek? That was her sayin' goodbye. Her and her brother are headin' back East to find their father."

You sat next to him, the photograph still in your hands.

   "Still doesn't explain why you were with her in the first place."

   "No it doesn't, does it." He sighed, running his hand down his face. "I was on my way back to camp, ridin' through Valentine when I thought I'd check and see if there was any post. Lo' and behold there was just the one - a letter from Mary askin' if I could help with a small problem of hers."

   "So you must have been in contact with her if she knew you were in town."

He shook his head. "No. No, she'd recognised the girls after their last trip into town and wrote to me on the off-chance I was also in the area."

   "Why?"

"Her kid brother, Jamie, he'd gone and got himself mixed up in this weird cult up in Cumberland Forest. Christ, you shoulda seen them all listenin' on as this lunatic spouted some nonsense about turtles or somethin'," laughing, he patted his leg until he saw your stony expression still waiting for the answer to your question.

   "Get to the point please, Arthur."

   "You're right, sorry," he said as he nodded, "Jamie was the only one in her family who stood up for me and I owed it to *him*, not Mary, him -  to help get him away from those crazy fools."

You fidgeted slightly next to him. You wanted to believe him, but he seemed to be avoiding the main topic of conversation.

   "So say I believe you about your reasonings for helping her…why did you keep a picture of her?"

Silence filled the air for a second before he simply answered. "I shoved it in there so you wouldn't have to keep lookin' at it when we lay together...and I guess I forgot all 'bout it."

You looked away as more tears fell down your cheeks. Gently placing his hand under your chin, Arthur turned your face to face his, looking deep into your eyes he told you, 

   "You’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

   "Prove it." You pleaded.

   "Okay then...this should show you she's nothin' to me now." He took the broken frame from your grasp and carefully removed the picture from the frame, lingering for a moment before crumpling it up in his hand and walking towards the campfire.

Though his stride was purposeful, you couldn't help but feel he faltered once more as he looked at the flames, but those fears disappeared as he turned to look back at you with a warmth in his eyes and a smile stretching wide across his face. Looking straight at you, his hand opened and the picture fell into the flames, where it lay for a few moments as it slowly rendered into nothing but a pile of ashes.

Making his way back over to you, he picked you up and spun you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

Bonus scene: Arthur's POV

He slowly removed the picture from the frame, partly being careful not to cut himself on broken shards of glass and partly because he wanted to make sure he was making the right decision. He was convinced that after Mary called it all off between them, he'd never smile, let alone love again. But then you'd walked into his life and brought light back into the darkness he'd found himself in.

But maybe there was a reason he'd held on to this photograph for all this time - a reminder of the good times that existed between them. Heartbreak has a funny way of erasing those memories, but seeing the woman you once considered the love of your life in person has an equally funny way of making those feelings rush back.

But no, the heartache he'd felt for all these years outweighed the fleeting moments of happiness he'd felt with Mary. And that kiss on the cheek to say goodbye that she'd given him at the train station? It certainly didn't give him butterflies like it used too. Looking at her image one last time, he crumpled it up and walked over to the campfire.

Though he had confidently strode over to flames, he once more had doubts he was right to finally let Mary go. Turning to face you, everything suddenly became very clear in Arthur's mind. Everything he ever wanted: someone who loved the group of people he considered family, as well as loving him for the man he was - despite his faults, someone who was willing to stick with him through thick and thin, make him laugh when he was down, and never fail to make him smile, that special someone he wanted to grow old with with...he already had that with you.

Without thinking, he opened his hand and let the battered photograph waft downwards, enveloped by the flames and turning to nothingness as he made his way back over to you, picking you up and spinning you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

[capskat26]

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Happy New Year @rcrisdraws!! ✨I am your Secret Santa for the @rdr-secret-santa event!!  I hope you enjoy this happy & healthy Charthur. ;; I enjoyed drawing it so much!! 💖

[my-funky-little-cowboy]

I know this is a little late, but @mesangelique​ I was your back-up secret santa for @rdr-secret-santa​! You wanted a cute Kieran x reader piece, and I really hope I delivered 💚💚

Relationship: Kieran Duffy x f!reader Characters: Tilly Jackson, Kieran Duffy, f!reader Warnings: none Themes: fluff, pining Words: 1,792 [ ko-fi] || [ ao3 ]

“Kieran? You ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of about talkin’ to him. He’s as harmless as they come!” Tilly chuckled and a rush of embarrassment washed over you. 

“I know, he’s just about the sweetest man there is. I just, I just don’t know what we would talk about! We ain’t got nothin’ in common.” You said, defeatedly.

“You know anything about horses? Because, next to Arthur, I ain’t ever met anyone who loves horses that much.” Tilly replied.

“I can’t say I do.”

“Well, there you go! You want to spend more time with him, have him teach you about horses!” She put her hands on her hips. “Do something! You’re driving us ladies wild by moping around because he won’t give you the time’a day. He’s as timid as a field mouse, you think he is gonna try anything with the boys around?”

Tilly was right, Kieran kept mostly to himself, especially around the women, though he was always pleasant enough. The gang had started to warm up to him in the last six months, but he still spent a lot of his time alone with the horses. 

“You’re probably right.” You said, standing up.

“Of course I am.” Tilly smiled smugly. “Now go talk to him, I think he was cleaning one of the saddles last I saw him.” She said nudging you gently with her hip before going to finish her chores.

Right. Tilly’s right, just go talk to him. You’ve talked to him before,  no problem!

You made your way over to where the horses were grazing, nervously watching them. You didn’t know much about horses, that was true, but they also made you kind of anxious. Such a big animal, all that power, they could kill you so easily. Maggie raised her head as you passed, making you take a step to the side. 

“Oh, hey there miss! Need somethin’?” Kieran’s voice was warm as he rounded the wagon, his hands full with some fresh water for the horses.

“Just, uh just wanted to come look at the horses.”  

Kieran poured the water into the tin bath, and turned back toward you, a smile plastered on his face.

“You like horses?”

“Well, I actually don’t know too much about horses. They kind of scare me.” You rubbed your arm nervously.

“Scared of ‘em? How can you be scared of somethin’ so sweet?” He walked past you to Maggie, running his hand along her flank and she lazily raised her head. “Maggie here? Gentle as a kitten, c’mere, I’ll show ya!”

He waved his hand for you to join him and you took a cautious step forward. 

“C’mon now, she won’t bite, will ya Maggie?” He took her face in his hands and gave her a scratch under the chin. 

You inched your way up behind him. A stupid grin spread across your face as you watched him gently kiss Maggie’s nose. He reached back for your hand and you felt your ears get hot as his fingers laced between yours.

He pulled you in front of him, bringing your hands up to brush lightly along Maggie’s neck. Her coat was smooth against your hand and you felt her lean into your touch.

“See? No more than a kitten.”  He said in your ear. “Horses can read your energy. Did you know that? The more relaxed you are, the more relaxed they are.” 

He released your hand, taking a step back and you exhaled, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“How can they tell?” Maggie turned her head to look at them as Kieran backed up, flicking her ears, annoyed that the attention had stopped.

“Don’t really know, might be because of how we have worked with horses for a long time.”  He shrugged.

You watched as he picked up a brush and moved farther into the herd. Kieran gestured for you to follow him and you moved reluctantly into the herd. “C’mon miss, you gotta meet them all!” 

He stopped in the middle of the herd and a few of them moved toward him, vying for his attention. Ennis spotted you and pushed his nose into your arm, pulling gently on your sleeve.

“No, no, uhhh...”

Kieran looked up as the horse really began to tug. “Ennis! No, leave her alone. Shoo! Shoo!” 

Ennis snorted and walked away, flicking his tail in agitation. Kieran apologized profusely, promising he just wanted a treat. He pulled you closer to the middle him near the center of the herd. 

He spent the next half an hour telling you about each of the horses and how they all had their own personalities. Showing you how to brush them, and how each has its own preferred brushing. You were in awe, watching him, he cared so much for them and he was so sweet to them. He turned back, offering you the brush.

“Now you try, miss!” His smile was bright as you took the brush from him, his cheeks tinged with pink as your hands met and he turned quickly, calling Branwen over. “Branwen’s my horse.” He cleared his throat and muttered. “But I’m sure you knew that…”

You brushed out Branwen the way he showed you. He watched you for a few minutes before disappearing to return to his chores. Branwen watched you, her gentle eyes following your movements, she nuzzled you as you neared her face, closing her eyes as you took her face in your hands, gently petting her as Kieran had shown you. Maybe horses weren’t as scary as you thought, in fact, you found that you actually kind of liked them. The horse leaned into you as you finished and Kieran chuckled.

“I think she likes you.” He said, placing a bale of hay down and pulling a knife from his belt, making quick work of the bindings. “Here, give her some hay, then she’ll love you.” He pulled some hay from the bale and held it out for you.

You took the hay, offering it to Branwen who whinnied happily, taking the hay from your hand. A smile pulled at your lips. They definitely weren’t scary, giving her a gentle scratch on face.

“Thanks.” You said as Kieran joined you, his hand full of hay as he led Branwen to graze with the others. “For letting me help you today.” 

“Oh! Ain’t nothin’, really!” He clapped the dust from his hands. “So, ya still scared of ‘em?”  Taking the brush from you.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head. “I should, uh, I should get back to my chores. It was real nice talkin’ to ya.” Kieran’s face turned bright red, and he mumbled that he enjoyed it too.

                                                        -- ♞ --

It had been about six months since the boys had brought him back to camp, and it had been nearly another month before they let him off that tree. Some of the women had snuck him a bit of food and water here and there, but even then, most of them steered clear, leaving the job to you.

Despite everything he had been so polite, when he was awake. Dutch had warned everyone not to feed him or give him water, but watching him, day after day, had been too cruel. 

It started with sneaking him a drink of water, late one night, after most of the rest of the camp was asleep. Just a small sip, too scared to get caught. He had whispered his thanks through chapped lips, a small smile cracking them further.

Then again when you saw him around camp, tending to the horses, doing the chores no one else would. Still the group kept him at arm’s reach, only Arthur would talk to him, threaten him. He smiled through it, wished everyone a pleasant day, thankful to be alive.

Slowly the gang began to accept him and you spoke more, in passing. Polite niceties around the fire, greetings over coffee, but still he kept mostly to himself. It was endearing, he could have left, found someplace where people would have accepted him, but he stayed, wanting to belong. 

You remember the night that you realized your feelings for him, the night he said he stayed here, because despite everything, the gang had been nicer to him than Colm ever was. It had been late. Everyone had been drinking, celebrating a successful score, and you were sitting at the fire. Only a couple remained: Kieran, Uncle, Reverend Swanson and yourself. The men might not have heard it, his low and tearful admission, each of them lost in their own demons, but you did. Suddenly overwhelmed by his confession, he apologized and disappeared into the night. 

He wanted to feel loved, wanted to belong, and it had struck you so deeply. 

                                                         -- ♞ --

You settled between the girls at the fire, the sun just ducking below the horizon. Tilly had cornered you shortly after you went back to your chores. 

“So?” She sidled up to you behind Pearson’s wagon, a cat-like smile crawling across her face. “How’d it go?”

“I learned a lot about horses.” You brushed her off, pretending to pay attention to your chores.

“C’mon, you can tell me!” Tilly whined.

“That’s the God’s honest truth, Tilly!” You sighed, returning the dirty dish to the basin. “He taught me a bit more about horses. He was real sweet about it.” 

Tilly huffed and crossed her arms before a sly smile started to creep across her face once more. She waved at you and turned to leave.

“Well, if you don’t want to tell me.” She called over her shoulder as she sauntered off around the wagon. You stared after her, your face twisted in confusion when you heard someone come up behind you.

“Evenin’ miss.” The familiar voice came from behind you, and you silently cursed Tilly before spinning around to greet Kieran. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see if I could help ya with your chores…” he paused, “...since you helped me, I mean.”

You gasped slightly in surprise, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.  “Oh, heh, it was nothin’. You don’t need to waste your time helpin’ me.” You turned back to your chores, to hide your face.

“I, uh, I don’t think it’d be a waste.” Kieran stepped forward, offering you a small smile as you looked over at him.

He picked up a rag from the counter and held out his hand. “To be honest, I like spendin’ time with you.”  He looked down as his face turned all shades of red.

A small chuckle escaped you. Tilly had been right. “I like spending time with you, too.”  You held out a bowl to him.

[rdr-secret-santa]

RDR Secret Santa 2020 Sign-Up!

Howdy everyone!

It’s getting to be that time of year again, the holiday season is fast approaching, and to give everyone plenty of time to work on their gifts, we are starting the RDR Secret Santa sign-ups now! The sign-up cutoff will be Sunday, Nov. 15th, after which you will be assigned your santa the following week.

Sign-up is here, no email is required, just your tumblr username. 

Gifts will be writing or art only this year, we will not be doing gifsets, moodboards, or playlists as gifts, apologies!

We want this event to be both nsfw and minor friendly, as such we are asking you to confirm your age on the sign-up so that no minor ends up with any nsfw requests. This is very important, do not lie about your age! Additionally, you will only be assigned nsfw wishes if you confirm you are comfortable with them. We are also asking all participants to include at least one sfw wish.

For those unfamiliar with the concept of secret santa, everyone who signs up will be put in a pool, and the mods will assign each person to someone else in the pool, you will be given a list of wishes that person wants, and your job will be to create something for them from one of their wishes, keeping it a secret until you post it come Christmas, you will also receive a gift from someone secret!

If you have any questions at all, please reach out to us!

**This event is not tied to the one that happened last year and is being run by a separate team**

~ Mod Hyde & Mod Jay

(gif credit @prairiemule​ )

[bllds1]

@so-many-tears-i-was-wasting happy holidays!! i was your secret santa

i really like the idea of dutch and hosea being able to have fun away from the gang so that’s what i tried to go with :’)

@rdr-secret-santa

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Red Dead Secret Santa

Howdy @mileycyprus-hill​ I’m your secret Santa this year! I hope you like my gift to you! 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Arthur sits astride his horse, his fingers aching from the cold. He shaked his hand a little, trying to fend off the ever-pressing chill. Even inside these rabbit-fur gloves, the low temperature bites his skin. Not only that, but his toes are chilled, his nose, his neck and ears. The one thing that keeps him warm is the thought of coming home to you and his two children. 

You’ve been Arthur’s anchor for many years now. Even before the gang fell apart, you were his rock. His best decision was to marry you, and his two favorite days were when his children were born. However, despite having a proper home now where you can live a quiet, peaceful, and most of all safe life, Arthur still has his wandering spirit. He definitely doesn’t stay away for as long of periods as when he was just a gang member. Usually he’s only out a couple of days. 

He’d left three days ago to go “hunting with John”. Or that’s what he told you and the kids. In reality, he’d taken a trip down to Blackwater to do some last minute Christmas shopping. He wanted something special for all three of you, and luckily Blackwater, being the large port for trade that it was, provided just that. After he’d done some shopping, he’d continued wandering to hunt for game, mostly as an excuse to you for being gone so long. 

The wind blows hard again, picking up a cloud of the freshly fallen snow and nearly taking his hat. His hand steadies it, securing it back onto his head and keeping him warm. Oh what he wouldn’t give to be in his warm home with the most important things to him. The steady mare beneath him snorts, seeming just as miserable as him. He pats her neck. “Almost home, girl.”

Around him, the iconic sharp mountains south of Valentine appear out of the fog. They’re covered in a beautiful blanket of snow, thanks to the major winter storm that had come through the night before. He looks up at the darkening sky, feeling even colder at the sight of the thick clouds. 

After another hour of riding, Arthur finally reaches the fork in the trail that will lead him home. Just as the snow begins drifting down in fat flakes again, he sees the lights of his cabin. His heart lifts at the sight, thinking about your face. 

When his mare’s in her stall with some food and a blanket on, he heads to the cabin with the gifts tucked away inside the furs in his arms. The moment he opens the door, he hears a squeal. Smiling, he drops his load on the floor and bends down to pick his five year old daughter up. 

“Papa!” she huffs in his face. She pokes his red nose. “Cold, papa.” 

“Yep, I’m cold, darlin’.” 

“I get a blanket, papa,” she says and he puts her down, chuckling as her short legs carry her off. His eyes immediately find you. His entire body warms at the sight of you coming over to him to greet him with a kiss. He returns it enthusiastically, loving the feeling of you in his arms again, right where you belong. 

“Where’s my boah?” he asks gently when you pull away. 

As though on queue, the two year old comes toddling out. He’s carrying his stuffed horse, his eyes the same color as yours nearly hidden under his mop of dirty blond hair. “Pa!” he hollers at seeing Arthur. Once again, he bends down to pick up his son. 

“Hey son. You been good for your mama?”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” you tease, patting Arthur’s back as you go over to the stove to pull dinner off. 

Smiling, Arthur puts his son down and then takes off his winter gear before helping you pull out the dishes. 

“Mm, smells so good, darlin’,” he says, looking at the meal before him. He’s just glad he got home in enough time to eat with his family. “So, how was our little girl?”

You sigh a bit. Your daughter has always been a daddy’s girl and when Arthur leaves, she can be a downright nightmare. She pouts a lot, but the likelihood of her throwing a tantrum multiplies by ten. “She’s… well, you know how she is.” 

Arthur smiles and decides to go and find her. After all, wasn’t she getting him a blanket? He goes to her room that she shares with her brother and finds her laying in bed on her favorite blanket. She instantly grins when she sees him and he knows she’s been waiting for him to come fetch her. 

“Come on, baby. You gonna come eat?”

“I have a blanket, papa.” 

He chuckles and picks her up, her blanket still clutched to her. She instantly lays her head on his chest. He loves how cuddly she is with him. He remembers briefly how when she was about a year old, she’d gotten sick. Both you and him were so scared she’d die, and Arthur spent many nights with her tucked against his chest as he sat in a rocking chair by the fire, trying to keep her alive. Ever since then, she’d been his biggest fan. 

When he walks out with her in his arms, you smile again and the four of you sit down to eat. Arthur silently says a thank you to whomever might be listening that he got home tonight. After all, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. He wouldn’t miss spending it with his family for anything in the world. 

The next day is spent in some chaos. You and Arthur always clean the house from top to bottom during the day of Christmas Eve, hampered by your two kids. Although your daughter tries to help, she’s only five. Plus it’s Christmas, which means she’s more hyper than if you’d let her drink some of your morning coffee. Her brother isn’t much better, and being two he’s as destructive as a tornado. However, you and Arthur manage to keep them mostly in check. It’s still a relief when night comes and you can finally sit down to eat dinner. 

Arthur always catches a wild turkey for Christmas Eve dinner and this year is no exception. If Arthur prides himself on anything, it’s his ability to take care of his family. He sometimes regrets not giving the same attention to Eliza and Isaac when they were alive, but he’s grown a lot since they died. When the gang fell apart, it really shook his world but when you stuck by his side he knew he’d die for you. 

Arthur sits down at the table, sighing as he prepares to carve the turkey. You’ve done your best to create a beautiful dinner; Arthur grabs your hand and tells you it looks wonderful (although he’s sure the potatoes have a little more garlic than needed). Luckily your kids are sitting relatively quiet, although it’s clear they’re jittery. 

After stuffing yourselves, Arthur does what he’s done every year since you began your family and sits down in his chair. His daughter immediately crawls into his lap, a book in her hand. 

“Papa, here’s the book,” she says, handing it to him and then curling into him. He chuckles and opens the book. He reads this every year on Christmas Eve after dinner. You sit in another chair with your son on your lap. He’s clutching his stuffed horse again, but he’s got his wooden cowboy that Arthur made him for Christmas last year. As Arthur begins to read, your son plays with his toys, thankfully quietly. 

You love listening to Arthur read, how the words come alive with his deep tones. You love watching him even more right now with his daughter tucked against him. He’s been such a blessing as a husband. Never have you had to worry about how ends would meet, about food being on the table, about your children’s safety and it’s because of his efforts. 

When Arthur finishes reading, he closes the book and his daughter yawns. “Hey, why you goin’ to sleep? We ain’t done yet, baby. Ya need your Eve gift.” 

Immediately she perks up and hops off his lap. “Papa! Go get it!” 

He chuckles and stands up, and so do you. He kisses you briefly before heading outside into the darkness. It’s traditional for your kids every year to get new pajamas and a new story book before bedtime. 

After a few minutes, he comes back in with two packages, similarly sized. Your daughter immediately squeals with excitement, but your son runs over and grabs his leg. “Pa! Up, up!” He gestures for Arthur to pick him up. 

“A’right, gimme a second, boah. Ya gotta open your present first.” 

He hands the kids their gifts and they immediately rip into them. His daughter giggles when she sees the pretty little night dress of her favorite color, while the boy inspects his new boy’s union suit. He’s young enough to not really understand the tradition yet, so he’s a little disappointed. However, he sees the children’s book and gets excited. Although he can’t read yet, he loves stories. 

After the kids have opened their present, Arthur puts his arm around you. “A’right kids. Who can get dressed in their new pajamas first?” 

Your daughter stands up, giggling madly. “Me! Me!” She books it into her arm, closely followed by her brother, although his stubby legs greatly hamper his speed. 

When the kids are in their room getting dressed, Arthur grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. He bends down and kisses you deeply. His behavior tells you that, if the kids were already in bed, he’d be laying you down near the fire and making sweet love to you. It’s all you want as well, but too soon the kids’ door opens and your daughter comes bustling out in her new PJ’s, followed by her pouting brother. It’s obvious who finished dressing first. 

Arthur rewards both of them, telling them how good they are. He then tells them it's time to read one of their stories for bed and that the sooner they go to sleep, the sooner they get presents. You follow them all into the kids’ room and watch as Arthur sits down on your son’s bed. His daughter, as always, crawls into his lap as he reads one of their new books. It’s expected when he finishes, they both argue to him to read the other one. If it hadn’t been Christmas Eve, he probably would’ve said no, but tonight’s different. 

By the time he’s done reading, both kids are drifting off. He stands up and lays his daughter in bed, pulls the covers over her and kisses her head. After, he does the same for his son. When he’s done, you go in and say your good nights and give kisses as well. 

After both kids are put down, you and Arthur clean up the house and then lay out the kids’ presents for the morning. Without a doubt, your daughter will come out of her room in the middle of the night to gaze at them to make sure they’ve shown up. You don’t mind though, she never opens them until morning when you and Arthur have woken. 

When everything’s done, Arthur pulls you into a one-armed hug and gives you a squeeze. “Come on, beautiful. We got a long day tomorrow.” 

With a yawn, you nod and let him guide you to your bedroom. Once there, you begin pulling out your nightgown to change. Arthur’s hands are suddenly on you and he’s kissing your shoulder from behind. 

“You ain’t gonna need that now, darlin’. I’m gonna keep you warm all night.” 

Sighing, you let Arthur slip your clothes off and begin touching you. With surprising speed and strength, he picks you up and tosses you onto the bed. Giggling, you watch him crawl over your naked body. With a wicked grin, you can tell exactly what he’s going to do.

“Can I give you my gift early?” he says, but he doesn’t wait for you to respond. Sighing in the pleasure of his touches and kisses, you know it’s going to be a long night. 

[prairiemule]

The Saddle & the Springs - RDR2 One Shot

Howdy @bllds1! I was your backup santa for the @rdr-secret-santa event. You said you wanted a brotherly-bonding piece with the boys, so I hope I delivered!

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston (major) Bessie Matthews, Susan Grimshaw, Hosea Matthews (minor)

Words: 9624

Summary: While looking for potential scores in a small Wyoming town, the boys hear about a wonderful and strange park to the north, Yellowstone. What they find there will amaze them.

ao3 link

Wyoming - April, 1891

Mild weather in April seemed impossible, but it had been nothing but beautiful clear skies for days now. Arthur leaned back in the saddle, staring up at the sun for a brief moment. It was a little past noon, maybe one o’clock. He needed a new pocket watch badly. Maybe he’d buy one in town, recent scores had left him with a decent chunk of pocket change.

Beside him, John was grumbling and adjusting himself in his seat. His brown turkoman horse, Layla, patient with all the fiddling.

Arthur cocked a brow, “The hell you doing, Marston?”

“This damn saddle.” John growled out. “It don’t fit my ass no more.”

Arthur stifled a laugh. “That so? Surprised you can even say you have an ass, skinny as you are.”

“Shut up.” John shot back. “I’m not the kid I was when I got this old thing.”

The older man nodded. “Suppose you’re right. You gone and turned eighteen on us, huh?”

John smiled proudly for a short second. “You’re gonna have to start treating me like an adult and not some little shit kid.”

Arthur laughed. “You’ll always be my little shit brother, Johnny.”

The teenager grumbled again, changing the subject. “How much longer we gonna be staying around here? Thought we was headed for Denver.”

“I have no idea. Hosea and Dutch seem to be up to something. Maybe they think there’s a score in Granger worth getting in the meantime.”

“So, what are we supposed to do?”

“Not draw attention to ourselves.” Arthur shrugged.

John sighed. “Whatever they’re cooking up better be worth it, there ain’t nothing to do around here to pass the time.”

“You should try reading more, kid.”

“Reading is boring.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to have this argument again with a moody teenager. “Maybe we’ll find a score of our own in town when we get there.”

“Haven’t robbed a coach in awhile.” John mused.

“What did I just say?”

“You’re no fun.” John groused, but there was humor in his voice.

“They keep telling me that.”

“Where the hell is this next town anyway? Sweetwater, was it?”

“We’re almost there, relax.”

As the sun gradually fell from its peak in the sky, the two of them continued their leisurely walk alongside the train tracks toward town, an inbound train whistling in the distance. Soon enough, they crested a hill, and the little town of Sweetwater was easily visible in the arid landscape of slowly rolling hills and short, hardy shrubs and grasses

“Don’t look like much from here.” John said, pulling his hat off to wipe his brow.

Arthur took the little town in, noting the railroad station. “Probably not much more than a place for travelers to stop and rest up. Still, keep your eyes and ears open. With so many people who pass through, you never know what gems you can pick up in dusty little forgotten holes like this.”

“Guess I’ll check out the saloon.” John said quickly.

Arthur held in a laugh. “Trying to take the easy job, huh?”

“Maybe I just don’t think your hearing is good enough for it, old man.” John teased. “It can get pretty loud and rowdy.”

“Whatever you say, kid.” Arthur shook his head. “I needed to go to the general store anyway.”

“Pick me up a -”

Arthur interrupted him. “Buy your own damn cigarettes, John.”

“I’ll pay you back!”

“I’ve heard that lie too many times now to believe you.”

“Fine.” John conceded. “Maybe I’ll just take a pack off some drunk patron”

Arthur gave him a stern look. “If you do, just try not to get in another brawl. I don’t want to have to save your ass again.”

“I fight fine, Arthur.”

“A blind raccoon could fight better than you.”

John rolled his eyes. “Just come join me when you’re done in the store, alright?”

“Sure. Might check out the station or a few shops ‘fore I come to the saloon. Doesn’t look like there’s much in the town, but you never know.”

The teenager nodded. When they finally made it onto the main drag of town, John split off and headed further down the road, having spotted what was clearly the saloon. A good number of stumbling fools wandered around outside of it, along with a few working girls gauging potential customers.

Arthur took a big swig of his canteen. The weather may have been clear and relatively mild, but it was still bright and hot out in the arid environment. He would need to refill his water while they were in town.

As he looked around, by all accounts Sweetwater wasn’t some beaten down, desperate little place. It was quaint, and well kept. Perhaps being on the railroad line kept it this way. There were a few interesting shops and businesses, a little bookstore, a tailor, a stable, and what appeared to be a leatherworker or saddler.

He hitched his roadster mare, Artemisia, outside the general store. The big horse let out a sigh before drinking heavily from the nearby trough. The heat was getting to her too. Arthur gave her a few pats. “We’ll head back to camp after this, and you’ll be able to rest up a few days.”

She flicked her ear and snorted her response.

Arthur chuckled, giving her one more pat before heading into the general store. It was a quick stop, grabbing some provisions for the road and finding a decent pocket watch to replace his broken one. He could have stolen one. But sometimes he enjoyed truly buying and owning something for himself.

Once back out in the street, Arthur glanced around town, again taking notice of the saddler and stable on the far edge of town. He almost didn’t think much of it, when suddenly an idea crossed his mind. He took one look at John’s horse, Layla, hitched outside the saloon, then he turned and wandered up the road towards the saddler.

- - - - -

He found John at the saloon’s bar maybe an hour later. The kid was standing steadily, nursing a beer bottle. So Arthur imagined he was only a few drinks in, if at all. “John.” He greeted his brother, lowly.

He looked up. “Arthur.” John returned.

Arthur leaned against the bar and took in the place. Most folks seemed to be having a good time, lots of raucous conversation and laughter.

Arthur dropped a quarter on the counter. “Gimme a beer.” He said to the barkeep. Avoiding his usual drink of whisky for the time being.

“Sure thing.” The barkeep replied, reaching under the counter and handing him a bottle. “Anything else?”

Arthur held up his canteen. “Water for the road would be good.”

“There’s a pump around back you can use.” The barkeep replied. “We’re also right on a river if that doesn’t suit you.”

Arthur nodded. “Thanks.”

After taking a few drinks from the bottle, he nudged John and gestured to an empty table in a dead area of the saloon, John grabbed one more drink and followed. “Heard anything?” Arthur asked quietly when they sat down.

John shrugged. “Not really. Think the most we’d get out of this town is robbing the few rich train passengers that may pass through. Even that’s probably not worth the trouble right now.”

Arthur nodded. John was talking sense for once. He’d been doing that more lately. “Didn’t see much from the various shops around. We could check another town tomorrow after we get back to camp.”

“Maybe.” John paused for longer than he usually would.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur. “Something on your mind?” He pressed.

“I dunno. You uh . . . you heard of a weird park north of here? Yellow-something or other?”

Arthur stared at him. “Yellowstone?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s it.” John took another moment. “People ‘round here, keep saying shit about rainbow colored pools up there? Holes in the ground that blast out water? Boiling pits of mud?”

Arthur nodded. “I read about Yellowstone park a couple times over the last few years, in some papers and a few other things.”

“So . . . is all that shit true?”

“I dunno, I guess?”

“ . . . Weird.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?”

John shook his head. “Nothing, just the only interesting thing I’ve heard all day.”

“If that’s all you been hearing about, this town really ain’t worth the trouble, is it?”

“Don’t think so.” John sighed. “Shame too, I’m so damn bored.”

“We’ll have some action soon enough.” Arthur stood. “We best head back to camp then, let Hosea and Dutch know there’s nothing out here.”

John downed the rest of his drink, standing as well. “Alright, can we please rob someone on the road on way back?”

“No.”

“God damn it.” The teenager sighed.

“Let’s get a move on. I’d prefer to be back in camp before the sun sets.”’

“Yeah, alright.”

They left the saloon without another word. Arthur found the water pump around the back and refilled his canteen. Then the two of them mounted up on their respective horses and began their journey out of town.

As they passed the stable, John pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Gimme a match, would ya?” He held his hand out towards Arthur.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “So you gone and stole a pack of cigarettes, but didn’t have the sense of mind to get matches while you were at it? I ain’t giving you one of mine.”

John dropped his hand. “Shit, Arthur. Maybe I got one on me.” He started patting his pockets, finally finding a small, broken match in his shirt pocket. He held it out proudly, cigarette still dangling between his lips. “Ha! See?”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“You always say to be prepared.”

“That’s not being prepared, that’s being a lucky fool.”

“I’m pretty sure lucky is the last thing you can call any one of us.” John replied, having successfully lit his stolen cigarette.

Arthur snorted. “Maybe so.”

Unlike the relaxed ride into town they had, Arthur insisted they pick up the pace on the way back, cantering and trotting most of the way. John grumbled a few times after they’d passed an extravagant looking coach and they didn’t rob it. But Arthur remained steadfast and kept them moving.

The sun had almost completely disappeared beyond the horizon when they reached camp. It was just south a ways of the little town of Granger, right up next to a small stream. Far enough out that it was hidden by the hills. They followed the stream into camp, two fires glowing in the dimming light.

He heard what sounded like a heated discussion between Dutch and Hosea, muffled by Dutch’s large tent. Unsure if anyone would be on guard duty, Arthur announced their presence as they got close.

“Arthur and John, coming in.” He called out.

After a small delay, he heard a “Welcome back, boys.” From Bessie, off near the campfire.

“Any news?” Arthur asked as he led his horse to the hitching post.

He heard her approaching him now. “They’re still working on something.” She replied.

“When they get back to camp?”

“About an hour after you two left.”

John laughed. “They been fighting that long, huh?”

Bessie rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “You know how it is. Dutch thinks he’s right, Hosea knows he’s wrong. They’ll come to an agreement eventually.”

Arthur dismounted and began to remove Artemisia’s tack. “Well whatever they’re hoping to score better be good. Granger sure ain’t a big town, and if it’s anything like this Sweetwater we just went to, there’s not much of value.”

Bessie frowned. “So no luck with you two then?”

John shook his head, leaning on the saddle horn. “Nothing. Not even a funny story in the saloon.”

“Well, I guess you boys better get some food. Susan’s got some stew ready. I’m sure Hosea and Dutch will want to hear about what you found eventually. Even if it’s nothing.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Matthews.”

She smiled and gave him a quick shoulder squeeze before heading back to the scout fire.

John dismounted, rubbing his ass when he was down on solid ground. “I’m serious, Arthur. This saddle is killing me. I have half a mind to take one from the next person I see alone on the road.”

Arthur glared at him. “Wait till we’re on the way to Colorado again if you’re really gonna do that. I don’t want to tell you again, no drawing attention to ourselves right now.”

“You ain’t the boss of me.” He groused.

“Like hell I’m not.” Arthur laughed. “Besides, that order comes from Dutch and Hosea, not me.”

John sighed, beginning to take Layla’s tack off. “One of these days, you ain’t gonna be giving me orders no more.”

The older man shrugged. “When I’m dead.”

With their horses finally tack free and brushed down, the two of them grabbed bowls of stew and joined Bessie at the campfire. Arthur looked around between a few bites. “Where’s Ms. Grimshaw?”

Bessie glanced up from her sewing. “She’s doing a quick parameter check. Thought we might have spotted some coyote scat off towards the butte when we went hunting earlier.”

“Coyotes, huh.” John repeated, pushing his food around in his bowl. “You think they’re gonna try and steal some food from us?”

“Who knows.” Bessie replied. “But if they are thinking about it, Susan’ll scare them off with a few shots I’m sure.”

“Almost got bit by a coyote a year back.” John grumbled.

“How?” Arthur asked, raising a brow.

“I dunno!” The teenager threw up a hand. “I was out doing some target practice, and one of them wiley bastards just walks up on me, ain’t afraid or nothing, then it - ” John stopped himself. “You know what, nevermind.”

“No, please continue.” Arthur pressed. “Why ain’t you ever told us this?”

“ . . . Well I just rushed off towards Layla and ran away. That’s all that happened.”

After a moment’s pause, Arthur replied. “Alright so that’s why you never told us.”

He could see his little brother turning red, even in the dim light. “Shut up.”

“No, no. It’s okay. Coyotes are real frightening.”

“Well the ones I’ve met have been!”

“Why didn’t you shoot at it?”

“I’d just shot all my bullets at the targets, I didn’t have time to reload!”

Arthur started laughing, and Bessie reached over to smack him. “Don’t tease him, Arthur. You know better.”

“Fine, fine.” Arthur said. “I won’t tease him about being scared of a little coyote. Least it weren’t a wolf, or a cougar . . . or a bear!”

As John went to bite back, a few shots of a repeater rang out nearby, followed by the unmistakable yowls of coyotes.

The conversation stopped, until finally Bessie spoke up. “Ha, guess Susan found them.”

“Good.” John said. “Like to wake up and not have the camp ransacked by thieves.”

“Hope she brings one back, that’ll be breakfast.” Arthur mused.

There was a grunt of agreement from John, despite the fact that he’d barely eaten.

The night continued as they finished with their stew, John at a much slower pace. The stars were beginning to shine above, uninhibited by any clouds. A nice, pleasant breeze, further cooling down the arid climate.

Another half hour or so of idle chatter later, and Susan rode up on her little paint horse, a single coyote strapped to its back. “Well, I chased them off.” She said simply when she joined them at last.

“And got us breakfast.” Arthur added.

Susan gave a small laugh. “I guess so.” She sat down next to Bessie. “Good to see you boys back in once piece.”

“Just a quick look in the next town over, weren’t nothing to be worried over.” Arthur said.

Susan snorted. “Oh please. You two are a nightmare of a mixed bag. You boys either work like a well-oiled machine, or a set of mismatched gears. Either way it’s worth worrying over.”

Arthur shrugged. “Well, we’re fine. And we didn’t rob anyone while we were out, despite John’s protests.”

He could feel the death glare from John without even looking at him.

“Good.” Susan said simply.

It wasn’t long before Arthur started nodding off, staring blankly into the campfire. Suddenly he felt John’s body slump towards him, the kid had passed out, and was leaned up against him, cheek planted firmly on Arthur’s shoulder. He gave a small sigh, deciding whether or not to wake the kid up.

He looked up to see Bessie grinning at the sight of them. Arthur only rolled his eyes, finally nudging John awake. “Come on, Marston. Time for bed.”

John jolted upwards. “Huh? Oh, uh. Yeah.” He wiped the drool from his face, getting to his feet.

Arthur stood too, giving a nod to Bessie and Susan. “Goodnight, Mrs. Matthews, Ms. Grimshaw.”

“Goodnight, pumpkin.” Bessie returned with another cheeky grin.

“Night, boys.” Replied Susan.

John gave them a little wave before turning and trudging towards their tent. Arthur ducked in after John, sitting down on his cot and taking his boots off. Then removing his jacket, gunbelt, and hat. John had done the same, already crawling under the blankets on his cot.

Finally alone with his thoughts, he pulled his journal from his satchel, opening up to the next empty page. Arthur wasn’t feeling up to writing, but a drawing did come to mind. He found the idea of John running for his life from a coyote so amusing, he did his best to get it down on paper. After 20 minutes of working, he was satisfied with the quick gesture drawing he’d made. With one final line, he put his journal away and finally turned in for the night.

-»»»•«««-

John’s eyes blinked open slowly. Peaking over his shoulder he could see dim light filtering in through the tent flap, it must have been early morning. A quick look to the opposite side of the small space and he could see that Arthur was still there, fast asleep.

After fruitlessly trying to fall back asleep for a few minutes, John gave up. He shook his head and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Finally stretching and freeing himself from his blankets. He got changed quickly and quietly, Arthur was a light sleeper, and could be an enormous grump when woken up too early. So John took great care not to disturb him.

Once outside, camp was quiet. He half expected to still hear Hosea and Dutch arguing. But he was apparently the first one up. The sun was just rising when he looked towards the eastern horizon. It was almost funny to him that he was first awake, usually Susan or Arthur were the first ones up.

By all accounts he should have started the coffee, that’s what he was supposed to do as first up. But looking towards the horses he had another thought.

He silently walked towards Layla, whispering her name as he got closer to hopefully not startle her.

The big brown horse looked up, ears pointed forward as John approached. She turned and walked to him, greeting him with a nudge and a gentle snort.

“Morning, Layla.” John said, giving her a pat. “Let’s get that saddle on you and get out of here, quick. ‘Fore anyone wakes up.”

As if she got what he meant, she remained deathly silent as John began saddling her up, giving him no trouble as he tightened the straps. Usually she would puff her belly out a bit to keep the saddle from being too tight, but she didn’t today.

Satisfied, John went to mount up, then realized in his hurry how unprepared he was for his plan. He sighed, rushing quietly back to the tent.

John peeked in, Arthur was still sleeping, so he crept inside. Fast as he could without making noise, John gathered up a few things he thought he’d need from under his cot. Then wrote a small note, leaving the paper on the blankets.

When he made it back to his horse, there was still no sign of anybody else awake. John smiled to himself, excited to be getting out on his own for a while. But as he put his foot in a stirrup to swing himself onto his horse, he heard a familiar voice.

“The hell are you doing, Marston?” Arthur demanded.

John let the saddle go and turned quickly. Surprised by how close Arthur was already. “Nothing!” He replied, far too fast.

He saw those cold blue eyes narrow at him. John knew that look, he was absolutely busted. “Where you heading off to, kid?” Arthur asked, holding up the note John had just left.

“I . . . uh.” John stumbled over words in his brain. Finally spitting something out. “I just. I wanted to see that Yellowstone place.” He mumbled.

He saw Arthur’s face soften, and then his brother let out an enormous sigh. “Christ, John. You shouldn’t go up there alone.”

“And why not?” He shot back. “I’m old enough to do stuff on my own. Dutch and Hosea told me you used to go off on your own a lot when you were my age.”

“John.” Arthur stopped him. “I’ve read enough about that park to know how dangerous it can be. And I think you may just be dumb enough to fall in a geyser and die.”

John went to argue back then had to stop. “ . . . . a ‘geyser?’”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about.”

The teenager grumbled, looking down at the ground. “I just want to do something. I’m so bored, Arthur.”

He heard Arthur sigh again, then a long pause followed. “Alright.” He spoke up at last. “You can go.”

John’s head shot up quickly, the sudden smile on his face betraying the cool demeanor he was trying keep. “Wait, are you serious?” He said.

“Well you didn’t let me finish.” Arthur replied. “You can go, but I’m going with you.”

John’s smile faded and he groaned. “God damn it, really? I thought you hated ‘babysitting’ me anyway.”

Arthur crossed his arms and stood tall. “I think I may hate you turning up dead even more. It would be my ass on the line if that happened. Either I go with you, or you don’t go at all.”

John folded his arms too, kicking at a rock on the ground. After muttering for awhile, he finally spoke up. “Shit, alright. Fine. We both go.”

The teenager looked up in time to see that stupid grin on his older brother’s face. “Alright, we’ll leave in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll wait here for - ”

John didn’t get a chance to say much else before Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back towards camp. He tried to fight it for a few seconds, but it really was hopeless. Arthur was too strong. “Okay, okay!” John spat out. “I get it, I’ll come with you.”

Arthur let him go. “You know I’m not that dumb.”

“Worth a shot.” John grumbled.

“We need to tell Hosea where we’re going.”

“What if he doesn’t let us go?”

“Don’t see why he wouldn’t.” Arthur shrugged.

As they approached Hosea and Bessie’s tent, the flap opened and the man they were looking for stepped out. “I thought I was hearing you two argue. What is going on?”

Arthur nudged him. “Well, tell him, kid.”

Hosea looked at John expectantly.

“Uh, we’re gonna go up to that Yellowstone park north of here.”

Hosea’s eyebrows shot up for a moment before he resumed his usual collected expression. “Did you hear about a potential score there?”

Arthur answered for him. “Naw, the kid’s bored. And there’s nothing in Sweetwater. So we got jack shit to do unless you and Dutch need us for your scheme.”

Hosea smiled but shook his head. “The way things are going, don’t imagine we’ll be making much progress on that for a week or so. If you two really want to go, be my guest.”

“Alright.” Arthur nodded. “Probably be gone a couple weeks, I’ve read before the trails aren’t the best to get there.”

“We’ll be here.” Hosea replied. “You two have fun.”

Arthur pushed John forward. “Keep an eye on him while I get ready, would you?”

Hosea laughed. “Sure, I won’t let him sneak off without you.”

“Thanks.” Arthur replied, heading off towards their tent

With him gone, Hosea looked over to John. “You grab enough food for this little escapade?”

John sucked in a breath, realizing he’d grabbed nothing from the chuck wagon for the journey. “Uh . . .” Was all he could muster.

Hosea sighed. “Let’s grab you something now then.”

A few minutes later and John was loaded up with a sack full of dried goods and some canned food. “Try not to eat that all at once.” Hosea told him. “Be sure to hunt fresh game when you can. This food is more for emergencies, understand?”

“Of course I do, I’m not some dumb twelve-year-old.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Hosea grinned.

John frowned. “Now that ain’t fair.”

“Life ain’t ever been fair, John.” Hosea replied, still smiling. “But considering you forgot to grab food, I feel I am justified.”

The teenager could only grumble his response.

Hosea kept an eye on him as he went and loaded Layla’s saddlebags with the new supplies. “Now come here and make the coffee like you were supposed to.” Hosea called out as quiet as he could.

John sighed with his whole body, completely at a loss for how his plan got so out of his control.

He trudged back to the main campfire, seeing that Hosea had already done him the kindness of bringing the fire back to life with new kindling and logs. He refilled the coffee pot with water and added more ground beans, setting it by the fire to warm up.

About ten minutes later and Arthur was almost ready to go, he was dressed and putting the tack on his horse. At last joining them by the fire and pouring a cup of coffee. He drank it down after letting it cool a moment. “This got enough grit to be sand.” He said.

“Maybe time to clean the pot.” Hosea shrugged.

“Probably.” He looked to John. “You ready?”

“I was ready twenty minutes ago.” He replied.

Arthur snorted. “Well aren’t you prepared for once.”

“Of course I am.”

“Let’s get going then, kid.”

Hosea stood up. “You two stay safe, we don’t see you by the end of the month, we’ll come looking.”

Arthur nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“See you soon, Hosea.” John waved.

With that, the two of them mounted up, riding out of camp, the pink sunrise lighting their way.

- - - - -

A quick stop for directions in Granger had them riding the same road as they did the previous day, through Sweetwater, then the next town after by the name of ‘Marston.’ Which Arthur got a kick out of, but John found appalling.

From there they took the road north, following the Green River as far as the road would take them.

They remained on that same path for several days, stopping rarely. Arthur managed to catch them some animal almost every night for dinner. The night he brought in a coyote, John could tell he was making fun of him.

They chatted idly about the usual things as they went, or bickered about nonsense. But mostly they remained quiet as they trotted, cantered, and galloped through the ever changing landscape.

Over the course of a few days, the mountains in the distance became larger and larger, the arid environment becoming more green and forested. Until they were right up against the base of mountains themselves.

The road and river came to a stop, and they were forced to navigate themselves. That night at the campfire, Arthur studied the map of Wyoming he’d bought in Granger.

John looked over his shoulder, staring at all the different geography, lines, and tiny words.

Arthur pointed to a spot on the map on the western half, directly below a large range of mountains that stretched to the north. “We should be about here.” He said.

“How much further to Yellowstone then?” John cocked his head and looked closer.

“Few more days I’d say.” He pointed down the map a ways. “Here’s Granger, camp is just a few minutes south of it.” Then he pointed up towards the Northwestern corner of the state. “And here’s Yellowstone. We’re a little over the halfway point between the two it looks like.”

John sighed and sat back down on the opposite side of the fire. “Dunno why I thought it would be closer.”

Arthur snorted. “Maybe because you didn’t bother to check a map before you came up with this idea.”

“Can you really blame me for wanting to get away for awhile? You do it all the time. Be gone for a month and come back.”

There was a strange heaviness to Arthur’s voice when he spoke. “I probably won’t be doing that anymore, John.”

The weight of his voice took John by surprise, and he wished greatly in that moment that he could see Arthur’s face, but he was hidden behind the map. “Oh . . . alright.” Was all John could seem to say.

Arthur exhaled. “We better get some rest, kid. I think I see a decent way up to the park. We’ll take this valley as far as it lets us, then we’ll have to traverse our way through a couple mountains, but that should take us directly into the park.”

John nodded. “Thanks . . . uh . . . for navigating I mean.”

Arthur folded the map forward, one brow raised as he stared at John. “Starting to sound like you’re glad I’m here.” He teased, a grin growing on his face.

The teenager scowled. “No - I . . . Shut up.”

Arthur laughed as he stood and folded the map up, putting it away in his satchel. “We’ll be leaving early in the morning. Good night, kid.”

John got to his feet too. He sighed. “Night, Arthur.”

- - - - -

Arthur hadn’t been kidding about getting up early. John was awoken the next morning to Arthur kicking him. Not a hard kick, but enough to make John jolt upright.

Camp was packed up quickly, and they were back on the road again. The way was less obvious to John as they continued their journey the following couple days. But Arthur seemed confident. He always had a knack for navigation, almost like he had a map and compass in his head.

They found themselves in a beautiful green valley by the name of Jackson’s Hole with huge mountains on either side. The Teton range to their west according to Arthur. In his short life, John had traveled a vast amount of the country with the gang. But he couldn’t help but take in the beauty of this valley.

It was a long stretch of land, taking about a day and a half to run the length of, but Arthur told them once they passed Jackson’s Lake, they’d be within spitting distance of the park.

By midday, the lake was behind them, and they began riding through the mountains. John felt full of anticipation. If Arthur was correct, they were nearly there. They stopped rarely, once so Arthur could pick up the deer he’d spotted and quickly dispatched for their dinner that night.

As the day continued, John was a little disappointed when Arthur stopped them to make camp at sundown. He found them a nice flat area up against a plateau near a river to set up. “Thinking we’re in the park now.” His brother said simply.

“So we’re not gonna look around?” John asked.

Arthur cocked a brow and stared at him. “How we gonna look around when we can’t see shit, John?”

“I dunno, we just come all this way, and we’re here, and we gotta stop?”

He sighed. “I understand, kid. You’re excited. But you’ll get more out of it when it’s daylight and we can see everything.”

John hated that he was right. As usual. “Fine.” He said, then after a pause. “Are you going to cook up that deer?”

“Why else you think I shot it?” Arthur laughed.

“I was just asking!”

“Yeah, I’ll get it cooking. You set up the tent.”

“You sure you want me to do that? You complained about it almost falling down last time.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I can’t do everything, boy. Put up the tent, just drive the stakes in deeper this time.”

He complained the whole time, but soon enough, the tent was up, John very sarcastically hammering the stakes even after they were well into the ground. In annoyance, Arthur threw a slab of half cooked venison at him. Eventually though, they settled down and ate their dinner, talking for awhile before finally turning in for the night.

John fell asleep hoping this whole trip would actually be worth it.

-»»»•«««-

Arthur decided he should let John sleep in when he woke up early that morning. He’d been pushing them pretty hard to get to the park in a fairly short amount of time. The kid needed as much rest as he could get, considering he barely ate any food.

In the meantime, he built the fire back up and cooked up some more meat from the deer he’d caught. He left a few pieces for John, then got coffee going in the kettle. With that taken care of, he stood and stretched deeply, looking off a ways towards where they’d left the horses.

He saw Artemisia and Layla exactly where they were supposed to be, saddles off and grazing lazily. Arthur greeted them softly as he approached, both of them perking up and coming to him. He gave them a few pats before brushing them down one at a time.

He couldn’t help but talk sweetly to them as he went. “You two both did such a good job.” He whispered to Artemisia, brushing the dust from her dapple buckskin coat. “Bringing us all the way up here in such good time.”

Then he looked to Layla. “And you did great bringing John all this way, despite how much he must squirm in that saddle he hates.”

She snorted her response.

Arthur grinned. “Alright, come on you two, let’s get to the river for a drink.” He led them down towards the river not far from this plateau they’d ended up at. He refilled his canteen and let the horses drink their fill.

Glancing around, Arthur saw very little signs of human life. There were animals, yes. But if there were any other people in this park, he sure as shit wasn’t seeing them.

When they returned to camp, John was finally up. He was warming himself by the fire and yawning heavily. “Morning, Arthur.” John greeted in that rough voice he’d developed.

“Morning, John.” Arthur returned. “You eat yet?”

“No.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He should have figured. “Well eat some of that meat I prepared and drink some coffee, we should tear down camp soon.”

“Yeah, alright.” John spoke as he yawned again.

Arthur poured himself some coffee then went and got the horses saddled. John wasn’t exaggerating much when it came to his saddle. It was pretty worn down. A lot of that could be attributed to John’s own personal neglect, but not all. He did need a new one.

They packed up camp, and mounted up. Arthur could see John trying to hide the smile on his face. Arthur had to hold in a laugh, he really was a teenager.

“Which way we going?” John asked as they started off.

“Thought maybe we’d go see Yellowstone lake, which on this map is about the middle of the park, then go from there.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

The scenery was beautiful as they traveled. Vast green hills and plateaus, mountains all around them, pine trees spread about, rivers and streams snaked their way through the landscape. There were deer everywhere, pronghorn and elk too. Arthur wondered about potential herds of bison as well.

After riding for awhile, John spoke up again. “Sure ain’t seen no ‘rainbow colored pools’ yet.” There was noticeable disappointment in his voice

“I’m sure we’ll find them eventually, we just started looking.”

“I dunno.” He replied. “Kinda just looks like any other part of the region. Can’t see what’s so special abou-”

As if on cue, John was interrupted by a sudden fountain of water bursting from the Earth. An enormous stream, growing rapidly to at least 50 feet high.

Arthur pulled back on his reins, stopping Artemisia as she startled, trying to keep her in place. John appeared to be doing the same with Layla, the generally calm horse whinnying loudly and rearing up.

“What in the god damn hell is that!” John yowled.

As Arthur got his mare under control he laughed. “That, is a geyser, John.”

“Holy shit . . .” He said in awe. He fumbled for words, finally just ending up on one. “How?”

Arthur shrugged, the fountain of steaming water still shooting into the sky. “I have no idea. I ain’t smart enough to know.”

With their horses calmed, they watched the eruption in amazement as it lasted upwards of fifteen minutes. Something about seeing the wonder in John’s expression made Arthur happy. It seemed impossible to get the kid excited about anything other than robbing.

When it finally died down, John tore his eyes away and looked at Arthur. “We gotta get a closer look at that hole it came from.”

“John, no. This is exactly what I meant when I said you’d get yourself killed up here.”

But it seemed John had made up his mind, ignoring what Arthur said and riding Layla out towards the protruding mound in the earth.

“John!” Arthur shouted. Annoyed, he followed after the fool.

John had dismounted and was cautiously touching the mound, before peering inside. “It don’t look like nothing special. Kinda like a giant anthill almost.”

Arthur rode up next to him. “Get away from there you idiot, the water that comes out of there is boiling hot.”

“Hold on, Arthur.” He said, finding a nearby stick and tossing it in. Apparently disappointed when nothing happened, he threw a few more things in.

“Cut that out, you shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” John asked. “Maybe it’ll go off again if I do.”

“We don’t want it to go off again if you’re right next to it. Anyway I don’t think that’s how it works. Now come on.”

John grumbled but finally listened, getting back on Layla and following after him. When they were back up the hill a ways, John looked around. “Are there more of those geyser things around here?”

“I’ve read there’s more than a hundred.”

John’s eyes lit up “We gotta find them all.”

“I don’t think we have time for that, we only have a few days before we start heading back.”

The kid sighed. “Alright, well. Let’s keep moving then.”

Arthur nodded.

They continued along what seemed to be a human made trail of some kind, traveling through a forest of beautiful pine trees. After awhile a foul smell hit them, growing stronger and stronger as they moved along.

John looked around for a source, finally settling on Arthur. “You didn’t fart, did you?”

Arthur glared at him. “Was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“That sure as shit ain’t me. Must have been you.”

“How the hell is it me?”

“I smelled your farts before, this is the same thing, like rotten eggs.”

“I may be a foul, mean bastard but not even I’m capable of making a stink this bad.”

“You sure about that?”

“John you say it’s me one more time and I will come over there and rip you off that horse.”

John threw his hands in the air. “Christ, okay.”

The smell continued to grow as they kept going. Until they started seeing fog or steam of some kind rising from the ground.

John perked up as he noticed it. “That another one of them water fountain things?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Geyser?” He corrected.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I dunno, John. Keep your distance until we find out.”

Once again, Arthur should have known better as John ignored what he said and took off towards the source without him.

“God damn it.” The exasperated older brother muttered as he followed after.

He caught up to John fairly quickly. Artemisia being a faster horse than Layla. The ever-present smell of rotten eggs only grew stronger as they got closer to the rising steam, until finally they broke through the trees and it was revealed to them. A huge stretch of water, of all sorts of colors. Red, orange, yellow, turquoise, blue, creating a beautiful prismatic ring around what could only be a massive hot spring in the earth.

With their horses at a stop. John stared out at the water. “I guess we found the rainbow pool.” He said, awed once more.

“And the source of that smell.” Arthur added.

John tore his eyes away to look at Arthur with confusion written all over his face. “The smell? How could something so beautiful smell so god awful?”

Arthur laughed and shook his head. “Nature is weird, kid.”

John dismounted and got closer to the edge of the water, crouching down next to the shore.

Arthur sat up straight. “Don’t touch that!” He snapped.

John looked over his shoulder at him, one brow raised. “It’s just water Arthur, what’s it gonna do?”

“Burn the shit out of you, can’t you feel that heat? It’s a hot spring.”

“You said the same bullshit about the geyser and it didn’t burn me either.”

“John.” Arthur warned.

But it fell on deaf ears, as John reached a hand out towards the water. An inevitable yowl followed as the teenager leaped to his feet, shaking his scalded hand. “Holy shit that hurts!”

“What did I just say you god damn moron.” Arthur said, irritation rising in his voice.

John opened his mouth to talk back, but it was clear he had no defense, quickly clamping it shut again.

“Get away from there. At this rate you’re gonna fall in.”

Finally, John listened, moving away from the edge and mounting back up on Layla. Once in the saddle, he went back to holding his burned hand, shaking it occasionally.

“Least I don’t gotta worry about your dumb ass jumping in the water and trying to swim in there.”

John’s head turned quickly, expression going from hurt to offended. “You making fun of the fact that I can’t swim now too?”

Arthur smiled, doing his best to make light of the situation. “Any opportunity I can, Marston.”

“I’ve heard of people swimming in hot springs though.” John said.

Arthur shrugged. “Some are hotter than others I guess, I’m pretty sure the majority of the ones around here are hot enough to kill you if you try that.”

John looked at his hand. “Found that out . . .” He muttered.

“Why you think I didn’t want you coming up here by yourself?”

“I would’ve been fine.” John replied, defiant.

“Sure kid, sure.” Arthur grinned. “We should keep our distance, but keep looking around the area for more of these springs. Probably some geysers around here too.”

Staying well away from the edge of the basin, they wandered for hours, finding more prismatic springs deep into the earth with intense steam rising from each of them. The smell never truly faded, almost impossible to go nose blind to, it was so powerful. Several dead trees dotted the area, bright green moss growing on the withered branches. There were few animals in the area, likely sensing how deadly the hot springs could be.

Eventually, they left the area, off to find more oddities in the park. Seeing a few more geysers along the way, although only one went off while they were near it. It took less convincing now to keep John at bay after being scalded, but there was still that wonderment and mischievous gleam in his eye that kept Arthur just a tad worried.

Once the sun began setting, Arthur set out on the mission of finding a decent campsite. Seeing a nice ridge near another stream they could potentially camp up against.

However, this was quickly thwarted when John spotted a bull moose. They kept their distance and watched it graze for awhile, wondering if it would move on. Then it escalated even further when Arthur noticed a large grizzly bear walking steadily towards the enormous creature.

“Should we . . . stay and watch this?” John asked, wide-eyed.

“I’m not . . . I’m not entirely sure.” He answered honestly.

“I kinda want to see what happens.”

“ . . . Me too.” Arthur admitted. “Let’s back up under some tree cover for now I guess.”

John nodded.

Once they were in a slightly more hidden position, they watched in fascination as the bull moose finally noticed the approaching bear. Apparently unfazed. He just kept his head up and focused on the grizzly. But as the bear got closer, the moose lowered his head, that massive rack of horns ready to charge, making a warning sound. The bear let out a roar and charged him.

It was a surprisingly short lived fight, as the bear got gored and knocked around a few too many times, the moose entirely unharmed.  The grizzly whimpered and let out several pathetic sounds as it cowered and ran away. The moose immediately went back to grazing, blood and bear fur clung to his large antlers.

“That was unexpected.” John whispered.

“Bear must have been a juvenile to pull something that dumb.” Arthur added.

“I don’t think I want to camp near that moose.”

Arthur held in a laugh. “Me neither, let’s find somewhere else.”

The sun was much lower by the time they found a new spot far from the encounter with the moose and bear. But it was a decent, well-hidden clearing within a grove of pine trees.

They ate the remaining venison Arthur had prepared that morning. As they settled down to sleep for the night, in the distance they could hear the howls of wolves. Their songs echoed amongst the mountains. He had to assume they’d be safe from them, plenty of their natural prey in the park to choose from, there was no reason to come after a couple humans.

By the light of their one lantern, Arthur pulled his journal out. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then he began to write.

Little Johnny’s gone and turned eighteen on us. Seems like just yesterday we saved his scrawny ass from being hanged. So much has changed, and yet so much has stayed the same. He’s still a scrawny little shit, but he does actually talk some sense every once and awhile now.

But he is a dumb teenager. He tried to sneak off to see that strange park, Yellowstone, up in Northern Wyoming. I’d read about it a few times before. Enough to know he shouldn’t go there alone. So now here I am playing babysitter as usual. I really shouldn’t pretend I’m not enjoying myself. This place is so strange and fascinating. Wish I were smarter so I knew what was going on here.

Much as I like to tease him, I really do care about John. After losing Isaac and his mother. I know now more than ever I have to be there for the people I care about and love. I want to make them happy, and this little trip sure seems to have made the kid happy.

-»»»•«««-

John was awoken by the sound of several voices, for a moment he thought he was back in camp with Hosea, Bessie, Susan, and Dutch. But soon the fog of sleep left him, and he knew where he was.

Quickly poking his head out from the tent, he spotted Arthur talking to a couple men in military uniforms it looked like. John went wide-eyed, this didn’t seem like it could be a good thing, he’d always been weary of police officers or army men.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

Arthur looked over his shoulder. “Oh, John, you’re awake.”

One of the men glanced his way. “Just talking to your brother about what you two are doing up here.”

“Ain’t we allowed to be here?” John questioned.

“It’s not that.” The man said. “We found a camp nearby with a lot of dead animals. Poachers, most like. We’re trying to track them down.”

Arthur gave John a nod. “They thought we might be them at first.”

The second man spoke. “Don’t see how you two boys could have done that, so you’re fine. But if you do see anything suspicious, please find one of us, or find the army base up by mammoth springs and let us know.”

A few more pleasantries were exchanged before the men got back up on their horses and left.

John saw Arthur let out a noticeable sigh of relief once they were finally gone.

“Army? Up here?” John asked.

Arthur shrugged. “Guess they’re the ones overseeing the park right now. Sounds like poaching became such a problem they had to be put in charge.”

John couldn’t help but let out a stress laugh. “I’ll be honest, that scared the shit out of me.”

“You and me both.”

Their sudden, stressful encounter behind them, the two of them had a quick breakfast and coffee, then packed camp once more. Setting out again for the day. There were a lot more hot springs, animals, and geysers along the way. After wandering further north, they eventually came across what could only be described as a large, boiling pit of mud, a similar foul smell to the hot springs from the previous day.

John stared in disbelief. “What . . .”

“You gotta stop asking me. I have no idea.” Arthur replied, blank look on his face.

After a long pause of simply staring at it, John spoke. “ . . . I wanna throw sticks in it.”

He saw Arthur turn his head and glare for a second before he raised his brow and thought about it. “Yeah, okay.” He shrugged.

They spent the next half hour throwing rocks and sticks in the boiling mud like a couple of little kids. Laughing as they watched them sink or float. The mud making extremely satisfying sounds as the objects hit. But, eventually they got bored and moved on.

Wandering westward, they came across a big, open field with a river cutting through it, the large Yellowstone lake to their south, it was another beautiful piece of land. But what really caught their eyes was the massive herd of bison doting the hills in the distance. There had to be several thousand of them.

“Damn.” He heard Arthur mutter.

John glanced over. “What is it?”

Arthur seemed to snap back to his senses. “Oh, uh. Well I just ain’t ever seen a herd of bison that big before. I heard there used to be groups that enormous all over the country. Now they’re nearly extinct.”

John frowned. “Guess it’s good they’re trying to prevent poaching here then, huh?”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Seems to be the only worthwhile thing I’ve ever seen the army do.” He paused. “Though I wouldn’t put it past the army to have been among the people hunting them to near extinction in the first place.”

They dared creep closer to the big animals, while still keeping a respectful distance. John was almost amused by how enthralled Arthur seemed to be. Leaned forward in his saddle, watching the big goofy animals as they rolled around on their backs, butted heads, and grazed. There appeared to be a few calves amongst the herd, their coats a bright, light tan color, compared to their parents of a deep brown.

As they sat there, John lit up a cigarette with the fresh pack of matches he’d brought from camp. He was bored of watching the bison, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to bug Arthur to leave, like he normally would have. It was almost like in that moment John knew more about his brother than he had before. The way he was so enthralled with nature and the wild.

Try as he might to hide it, Arthur did eventually pick up on John’s boredom, and he led them away to explore more, heading further north this time.

They spent a few days like this. Wandering all over the park, seeing the strange hot springs, geysers, a few more boiling pits of mud, all kinds of animals, and even at one point petrified trees. Yet another thing Arthur couldn’t explain to John.

Along the way they passed a carriage full of a few curious visitors. The only human contact other than the army they’d seen. Soon after seeing the carriage, they saw the army encampment the men had mentioned a few days prior.

But a ways beyond the encampment was one of the most incredible springs they’d seen yet. It was almost like a waterfall of stone. With the water trickling down countless beautiful yellow, orange, and white limestone steps. This was Mammoth Hot Springs.

It was one of the last places they visited before Arthur reluctantly told John it was time for them to leave and head back for camp.

John could have spent another week there, it was nice and peaceful. Other than a bit of teasing, and Arthur trying to keep John from getting himself killed, for once he felt he wasn’t constantly butting heads with his older brother. They were simply out there enjoying the strange and beautiful nature, awed by things they’d never seen or believed existed. He almost didn’t even notice how much his saddle bothered him the whole time, simply too amazed to think about it.

The return home seemed quicker, probably because Arthur knew the way now more than he did before. By the time they reached Sweetwater again, John was out of cigarettes. He considered going back into the saloon and seeing if he could nab a pack off the same drunken idiot as last time.

This thought process was interrupted by Arthur. “Hey, John. I ordered something at the leatherworker by the stable last time we was in town. I think it should be done by now.”

“Yeah?” John replied.

“You mind going in and getting it?”

John sighed. “Why I gotta do it?”

Arthur snorted. “Just go do it.”

After nearly three weeks of non-stop riding, John was at this point just too tired to fight. So he rolled his eyes and said “Fine.”

He grinned. “Thanks, kid. It’ll be under your name.”

John looked at him confused for a moment, but didn’t question it. He hitched Layla outside the stable while Arthur waited on Artemisia. The smell of leather and hide was the first thing that hit John when he walked inside. Which shouldn’t have been surprising.

An older man up front greeted him. “Hey there son, what can I do ya for?”

“My brother sent me in here to pick something up that he ordered a couple weeks back? It’s under my name apparently.”

The man nodded. “Alright, and your name?”

“Oh, uh. John Marston.”

“Oh, yes.” His face lit up. “Your brother spent some good money on this one, but I’m very proud of how it came out. Some of my better work.” He turned towards the back room. “I’ll be right out with it.”

John waited a couple minutes before the man returned holding a gorgeous new saddle, with intricate floral decals and shining brass star grommets. John stared in awe as it was set down on the counter. Almost annoyed that Arthur had gone and gotten himself a new saddle. But as he looked it over he quickly noticed one more detail. The initials “J.M” were monogramed into the leather.

The saddle was for him.

After thanking the shopkeep, he carried it outside, along with the matching bridle it came with. Arthur smiled widely when he saw him. “So, kid. What do you think?”

“It’s . . .” John did his best to contain his emotions. Trying to stay cool and collected. “It’s real nice, Arthur.”

But Arthur must have seen how hard he was trying to keep himself bottled up. “Happy Birthday, John. Was about time you got yourself a new saddle. Hey, and this way, you’ll never forget how to spell your name!”

John glared at Arthur through the mist in his eyes for half a second, before turning away and carefully setting the new saddle on the ground. Already going and taking his old, beaten down one off Layla. Once the new saddle was properly on her back, he traced his fingers over the initials. “Thank you, Arthur. I mean it.” He said. “For the saddle . . . and for going with me.”

As John turned around to look at him, he saw that rare, genuine warm smile. Something he hadn’t seen on Arthur in a long, long time. “It’s no problem, kid. I was happy to.”

John smiled back, before turning around. He took the old saddle into the leatherworker’s shop. Selling it for a measly twenty-five cents. Once back outside, he gleefully mounted up onto the new saddle. Far more comfortable, and much more fitting for the adult he was trying to be.

With the sun setting, they set out for camp once more. It had certainly been a couple of weeks John would never forget. They had plenty of stories to tell the gang when they got back. And he was looking forward to it.

Notes: I did try and do a lot of research for this, to hopefully portray realistically how the park might have been at the time. I haven't been to Yellowstone in nearly 10 years now. So a lot of this isn't entirely accurate, and I definitely took some artistic liberties.

I really enjoyed writing this, but it turned out far longer than I expected, so I hope it flows well enough.

Also, I'm not condoning throwing stuff into geysers and hot springs. That is actually a super bad idea, so many geysers are now inactive because people did that in the past. They are really delicate actually. There were no boardwalks or park rangers or much of anything in the park at the time this takes place, so the boys were able to get away with a lot of dangerous things that probably should have killed them! Anyway, that's it for my PSA

Thank you for reading!

[bloodylove3]

Merry Christmas @puddlesontherocks I'm your secret Santa! For @rdr-secret-santa

I hope you like it! I painted it with acrylic paint. One picture I scanned the painting and I took the other picutres with my phone to try and get the best lighting.

"Preferably just a scene drawing with Arthur Morgan or Susan Grimshaw from any background of the game. no gore/violence/nsfw"

[ask-arthurmorgan-rdr2]

❄Secret Santa Post❄

So awhile back i joined a secret Santa for rdr2 on this server! Love the chance to make someone happy.

So my secret santa was @pinyapple

They had a few options and one involved Oc and Javier! I had to chibi-fy our loveky guitar casanova boi!

So I hope you like it pinyapple!! Gotta say. Was confused by yers a lot!!! XD but love this.

Event hosted by none other than

@rdr-secret-santa

❗❓P.s My main art blog is Bunzlefluff haha. This is ro account boos. ❗❓

[puddlesontherocks]

Happy holidays @snikt-snack​! I was your rdr secret santa -- I hope you enjoy your gift! 

@rdr-secret-santa​

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!reader

Summary: A return trip from Annesburg is about to change your life forever

Word count: 1520

Notes: CW: vague descriptions of wounds | Unsure how to tag this right now, Amensia Plot | Unbetaed [Any feedback is appreciated]

Tags for: @husbandits.

I was so excited when I saw that I was assigned to be your Secret Santa this year (even if i do still have a request I need to fulfill for you 🙈) I loved each item on your wishlist, but this one really jumped out at me.

"okay, so there was a post going around like last year i think where arthur had gotten amnesia and the reader took him in, and honestly i haven't been able to get it out of my head these past few months for some reason"

I couldn't find the original post you referred to, but a rough idea started to form in my head...The only problem is, this idea is so much bigger than the stories I usually write and I was starting to run out of time to get it posted for in time for the @rdr-secret-santa event (as you well know, I'm a slow writer) so...please accept my humble offering of the first chapter while I try chip away at the remaining parts.

The Best Kept Memories

[working title]

Chapter 1: Late 1899 [Oct/Nov]

All this commotion was frustrating to say the least; you'd arrived in Annesburg late yesterday afternoon, ready to pick up the supplies you'd needed to stock your cabin up with before the weather turned back into the harsh winter the Grizzlies were famous for. Despite arriving in town a good 30 mins before the train carrying your supplies from Saint Dennis was due in at the station, an hour later you were still standing on the platform waiting for it to suddenly come rumbling down the tracks.

   "All the trains have been delayed you know" A local busybody informed you.

   "Yeah, I kinda gathered," you politely replied - not really wanting to be drawn into conversation...too bad the older lady didn’t get the message.

   "Talk is…" she leaned in close, as if she was sharing confidential intel that only you were to know about, "a bunch of degenerates living not too far from here, decided to rob one of the earlier trains coming up from city." 

You found yourself rolling your eyes internally upon hearing this; you were aware the Murfree Brood were a sadistic bunch of murdering bastards, but from what you previously heard about them, they could barely care for and ride their horses, let alone plan to board and rob a moving train.

"Terrible affair I heard, seems they managed to make it all the way up towards Bacchus Bridge before…" she stopped mid-conversation, not because she ran out of gossip to share with you but she had noticed that the tracks began to rumble and the sound of a train's whistle could be heard approaching the station.

   "Well, looks like the delay is finally over," you commented, pointing out the obvious.

  "Oh do excuse me will you." You sighed with relief as you watched the woman move a little down the way, heading towards the train's engine to see if the driver had any updates of the goings on in Saint Dennis to share with her.

By the time you'd finished loading your wagon up, you were exhausted and couldn't face the thought of driving home through Roanoke Ridge in the dark, especially if the Murfree Brood were still loitering about. Looking down the main street you saw the local hotel had some vacancies and made the impulsive decision to spend the night in one of the rooms there, ready to feel refreshed in time for your morning ride home.

While it seemed like a very good idea at the time, you soon realised you'd made a huge mistake. After waking up and having a quick wash before getting dressed, you made your way back outside to find the most peculiar sight. The mining town of Annesburg, usually full of workers with dirt covered faces, wandering about in their equally filthy overalls, was now overrun by well dressed men in suits. 

   "They say they're Pinkertons." You overheard the gossiping woman that you encountered the previous night, telling her newly captive audience. "One of them told me personally that there was a gunfight up near Beaver Hollow."

   "Well Eunice, I heard talk there was reports of those hooligans that they're after, fleeing into the night and the 'Pinkertons' had to chase them all over the Ridge well into the early hours of the morning," another lady informed her, looking super smug that she'd been able to provide some information that her friend wasn't already privy too.

   "Well either way, several roads around the area have been blocked off by the men in suits." Eunice huffed before walking off, looking for a less informed person to chat too.

Shaking your head, you dismissed their talk as nothing but idle gossip and jumped up on your wagon, ready to head back home along one of the roads leading South.

   "This road is closed," the well-suited man hissed as you approached the roadblock with your wagon. "I suggest you find another route."

   "It wasn’t closed yesterday when I rode into town, any chance you could let me go past just this once?" you protested, not really knowing why you were bothering. His stony face told you this was not a man who had much compassion for others, but wanting to get back home before the storm brewing on the East side of the Lannahechee river rolled in, you persisted, "I can be home within the hour if you let me past, whereas the other route will take me twice as long - not to mention those treacherous mountain roads I'd be forced to travel along."

   "I said, find...another...way" he growled at you, clenching his teeth as he emphasised each word.

   "Fine," you sighed as you reversed your wagon and drove along the road heading north.

Even though this route would take you the better part of the day to get home, you didn't mind so much as you could take the time to enjoy the beautiful scenery of this part of the country, especially the area around the huge mountain that rudely stood directly in front of you.

Taking a left hand turn to finally head southwards; you trundled along, lost in a world of your own as you admired the red wildflowers that grew in abundance here. Making a mental note to maybe pick some up on your next visit up here, so you could liven your cabin up, you were shocked when your horse suddenly reared up, whinnying a distressed shrill.

   "Hey now Ponos, what's to do with you?" you asked gently, hopping down off your wagon to assess the area around you. There was nothing obvious that you could see in the road, but out of the corner of your eye you noticed a flock of scavenger birds circling over something that must be hidden out of sight behind the giant rock to your right.

   "Trust you to be scared of a half-eaten animal" you chuckled as you patted Ponos' neck in an effort to calm him down. A beautiful Chestnut coloured Belgian Draft, you'd named him after the Greek God of hard labour & toil and while you couldn’t fault his excellent work ethic and seemingly unlimited stamina, you soon realised why the stable owner had offered you such a cheap price for him all those years ago; this giant of a horse was easily spooked by the smallest of things.

After reaching up to grab your gun from underneath your seat, you started walking over to the most likely spot to investigate. If it was a fresh kill you had enough space on your wagon to throw the carcass on and take it home to make a nice meal or two out of.

Approaching the overgrowth behind the rock, the birds squawked and scattered when they realised that you were about to steal the meal they had their eyes on. Getting closer, you noticed a heaped mound laying there. Your mouth started to water as you realised whatever this was, it was certainly likely to be bigger than a rabbit and therefore would provide several tasty meals over the next few days. Using the barrel of your rifle, you cautiously moved apart the long grass, almost dropping your gun as you finally saw what was previously hidden.

Looking like death personified this was certainly no animal, but a seriously injured man. His poor face, gaunt, bloody and bruised. Judging by the shallow, laboured breaths you could see him trying to take, he was still alive - but only just.

   "Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?" You asked, not really expecting a response but the almost corpse groaned and weakly nodded in response.

You glanced back at the grey clouds that had followed you on your journey from Annesburg, before looking back at this wretched soul. What was it your old pa used to tell you?

   'There's never any harm in being a good Samaritan to those that need your help.'

Realising that you could never let yourself walk away and leave a healthy man to be stranded in a storm, let alone an almost dead one to succumb from his wounds, you quickly set your gun aside and placed his arms around your neck. Summoning all the strength you had, you somehow managed to pick the sandy-haired man up and manoeuvre him onto the back of your wagon. 

   "I live a short ride away, you’re welcome to rest there until you get your strength back up.” Unravelling a few pelts you had stored with the rest of your cargo, you tossed them over the injured man to help try to keep him warm.

   "Sorry it's not very comfy but I guess it beats lying there in the cold waiting for the cruel embrace of death," you explained whilst taking out a carrot from your satchel to feed Ponos, in the hope he had gotten over his fear and was willing to continue your journey back home, “Tell me, do you have a name sir?”

Jumping back into the driver’s seat, you looked back over your shoulder, only to find your passenger had passed out.