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marvel-redemption-omega · 5 years ago

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Of Outlaws and Family

Chapter One: New Beginnings

A/N: So I have RDR2 beat to 85% completion (the compendium isn’t finished but the story section is) and I CRIED when my precious Cowboy died! I had high honor and helped John so there was that at least I suppose... This has eight parts so uhh be prepared for this. It’s a helluva ride. It follows the story in the game for the most part, I changed some missions and added in a few for my own personal reasons (OFC x Arthur) so yeah... Don’t worry, there’s gonna be a happy ending! I promise. I have a lot of the story already planned it’s just a matter of getting the next chapters cranked out. Also Hosea and Dutch are a thing in my eyes... Dutch never corrected nor denied Hosea when he said “the curious couple and their unruly son” soooo I took it and ran.

I am from the south and I drop ‘d’s, ‘g’s and do a buncha (<- example) other stuff when talking irl so I’ve added that into the story and tried to keep the same type of dialect (is that the word I’m tryna think of?) as they have in the game with accents. I also am trying (and editing) the Irish accents I have for Sean and Molly! If you think anything can/should be changed, please lemme (<- another example) know! Or if you can’t figure out a word/phrase I’ll help or have it in parenthesis if I know some people might have a hard time getting the accent if they’re trying to speak it aloud to hear it for themselves (my friend does this occasionally).

Warnings: Cursing, typical gang violence (shoot outs/shoot ups/gangs,bushwhacking. etc), mentions of death/dead gang members

Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are appreciated!

My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.

Word Count: 3,246

“Faster, Girl, faster! Go! We gotta get home before them!”

“You think you can outrun us? You owe us, Little Lady!”

“Get her!”

“Don’t let her get away!”

“Fancy, let’s go! Hyah!” She urges her horse on and leans forward, stirrups tied high on the sides of the saddle. The brown mustang tosses her head and breaks from her gallop to a flat out bolt. “Atta girl, c’mon.” The trees and rolling land all blurs as she and Fancy run along the road, she barely registers the white blip of a horse at the four way cross.

“Whoah!”

“Sorry, Mister! Can’t talk! Gotta run!” She turns slightly in her saddle to call the apology over her shoulder as her mare continues to carry her back home. The small band of people, behind the man she narrowly missed, watch her in curiosity.

“There she is!”

“Don’t lose sight of her again!”

“Try and cut her off before she gets over that hill!”

A group of seven men, each on their own horse, fly by as well, sparring not even a glance their way. The owner of the white stallion is stunned for a moment before he calms his horse and turns around.

“Bill, Micah, go after her and help with those damned O’Driscolls. We’ll continue on to get settled. Once we’re good, if they’re not back yet, we’ll go search for them. Come on,” he instructs and watches as aforementioned duo break off and tail the lady’s assailants.

“Dutch, why did you send them? You know how he acted with Mrs. Adler. Was it really wise to send both of them unsupervised?”

“Arthur, are you doubting me? We’re almost there and it shouldn’t take too awful long to set everything up so we won’t be too far behind them,” Dutch turns his horse back and clicks his tongue as they continue on.

“Looks like that was the last one, Ma. Want me to go start the bonfire?”

“Yes please, James. Take Fancy out to the paddock on your way. I left her hitched to the porch,” she answers and leans her gun against the wall. “I’ll get the horses that didn’t spook and start dragging these guys around back.” The boy runs out the back door and she can hear murmurs to her horse and the soft nickers in a sort of reply as he does as told. She sighs and opens her front door.

“Hello, Ma’am, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Seems like we didn’t need to come help.”

Two men push their way inside as she darts back towards her table, picking up a rope lying on it. She lassos one of them and yanks him to the floor, hog tying him as a shotgun clicks as it’s cocked. The other man holds his hands up at the boy who is aiming the gun at him, startling back a few steps.

“Bill! Don’t just stand there! Do something! Untie me!” the hog tied man grumbles as he rolls onto his shoulder to look at his friend.

“And end up shot or like you? No thanks, Micah. I’ll stay here,” he snips and glances down. She uses the moment of interruption to her advantage and lassos Bill too, dragging him closer before hog tying him as well.

“James, hun, go start that fire. We might have more than I thought,” she orders and takes the gun from him as he passes. He shoots a glare over his shoulder to the strange men and dashes out the back door.

Dutch and Arthur look at the house where Bill and Micah’s horses are grazing. Arthur gives him a pointed look, which Dutch sighs at. They climb down from their horses and lead them to the porch and try to quietly walk up, checking around them for any traps or followers. The door is slightly ajar and a women’s voice, the same from earlier, filters out.

“You two have some nerve. Now tell me, what does Colm want now? I done told him I ain’t joining his stupid gang and I won’t warm his bed. If you think that I’ll do it for either of you then you’ve got another thing coming and not even half a mind between the two of you!”

“Well, Darlin’, you might be right about that. There’s not half a brain betweenst those two, but I do take offense that too you think we’re with that dirty, yellow bellied scum, Colm O’Driscoll.”

“Who the hell are you?” A shotgun is pointed at the two newcomers, and Arthur’s lips twitch up as his and Dutch’s hands go up.

“Dutch Van der Linde and this here is Arthur Morgan. I sent Bill and Micah here to help you with those fools, after you nearly trampled me,” Dutch smoothly states, walking forward as he speaks. She backs up to the other side of the table and raises her brow.

“Ma! Ma! There’s two mo-” James freezes at the back door, eyes wide as all attention focuses on him. “They’re already here. What do you want with my Ma?! She ain’t got no money! She don’t want no dirty O’Driscoll!” He shouts and moves so he’s beside his mother, eyes narrowed.

“That’s a tough little boy you have there, Ma’am. What’s his name? And yours?” Dutch stands just on the other side of the table, hands still up, no move made to untie his men, nor is there anyone else in the house, and he hasn’t reached for his pistols either.

“James. His name is James. And I’m Scarlet. Scarlet O’Hara,” Scarlet lowers the shotgun and places it on the table. “So if you’re not with Colm, why are you here? My…” she hesitates and glances at James,” his father isn’t in trouble is he? He’s not part of a gang.”

Arthur and Dutch share a look, glance at the grumbling duo on the floor, and back to Scarlet. They shake their heads and James wraps his arms around his mother’s waist, head resting on her stomach. She wraps her arm around his shoulders and leans down to press a kiss to his mop of dark brown hair.

“Considering we don’t know his father, by name or otherwise? No, we aren’t here about him. When I realized you we’re running from O’Driscolls, I figured you might need help. So I sent these two men to try and help you; though from the looks of your yard and what you’ve done to poor Bill and Micah, well, you didn’t need our help.” Dutch has a way with words, Scarlett will admit that. He’s charismatic and charming, easy on the eyes too. She likes him.

“Well, Mr. Van der Linde, care to help me drag the bodies out back to the pit? We burn any ones that manage to get too close,” she offers and hands James a knife, motioning to the men on the floor. “Cut ‘em loose, but don’t cut them or yourself, James.” The boy nods and cuts the rope on their wrists and backs up to Scarlet, leaving them to cut the rope on their ankles. He sets the knife on the table.

“Damn woman put these too tight to slip out of,” Micah mutters under his breath as he slices through the rope on his legs. He gets to his feet and helps Bill up as well.

“I think we can help with that. Any chance of more O’Driscolls coming this way?” Arthur leads the group out the front door, glancing at Scarlet over his shoulder.

“Maybe. I planned on burning down the house and headed out tonight. I have a wagon down yonder with our stuff and a horse. I was gonna saddle up Fancy and Shamrock and sneak there with James,” she admits and ducks her head a little in embarrassment. Dutch studies her for a moment as they gather the dead men and move them to the backyard.

“I have an idea. You’re free to say no of course, but we could always use more people. We could help give protection to not only you, but to your boy too. James seems like a smart kid, we’ve got another boy just a little younger than him. I’m sure Jack would love to have someone his age to play and hang out with.”

Ooooh, curse this man’s charisma. He’s bound to know I’ll do anything for my boy. Curse him, Scarlet thinks, hesitating in kicking her guy into the small, dug out pit. James helps roll the guy down then busies himself with the O’Driscolls horses, leading them to the pasture as he talks to calm them. There’s kindling starting to catch the logs and clothed bodies of the dead already in the pit.

“I always said I’d never run with a gang, though I fear as I don’t have much other choice. Not now anyway. They won’t stop coming after me and it’s not like I can hide here forever. They’ll find me eventually. I can’t have that. They can’t find out about James,” she confirms, voice filled with conviction. She nods to herself and turns to face the four men. “Dutch Van der Linde, you have yourself a new member. Just tell me all I need to know.”

They finish up the litter of bodies as Dutch and Arthur list the rules of the gang and all it entails, or what they feel they can share around James, with some protest from Micah, then all head back inside. Scarlet ushers them to sit around her table as she fixes them lunch, sending James to feed and water the horses when he’s done with his plate, which he obliges without protest. She keeps busy by cleaning the dishes and packing them as the men talk amongst themselves.

When James comes back inside, having fed and watered the small groups’s horses too, Dutch suggests they head out. He volunteers Arthur to stay behind and drive the wagon when she decides to leave and join them. Scarlet thanks them and sends them on their way with a promise to not be too long with the last of the packing.

It doesn’t take too awful long to get three full double-saddlebags put on the horses. James is sent to lead all the horses to the fence and hitch them to posts in preparation of saddling. Arthur offers to help James and Scarlet nods in thanks as the males head out the back.

Once the trio of horses are saddled, Scarlet ties Shamrock’s reins to Fancy’s saddle horn so he doesn’t spook when she lights the house. She helps her son get into Fancy’s saddle and rubs the brown mustang’s nose, up the white blaze between her eyes.

“Stay, Girl. I’ll be right back. Calm,” she coos to the horse and steps away. Arthur is waiting in his saddle, Fancy’s reins in hand to keep her calm, though Scarlet is positive she won’t spook and tells him as such.

It takes less than two minutes for her to grab her hidden cash and light the bedroom on fire. She leaves the door open as she walks down the front porch and towards the five horses, two being ones from the O’Driscoll members. She climbs into the saddle and Arthur hands her the reins, James sitting in front of her.

“Let’s go get your wagon and then head out. I think we can make quick work of the trip,” he suggests and James tilts his head up to look at his mom.

“Can I ride by myself please?”

Scarlet bites her cheek and hesitates a moment before nodding and slipping from behind him. She unties Shamrock’s reins and tosses them over his head and neck before hopping to his back and adjusting in the barely used saddle. He startles a little but settles down once Scarlet gives his neck a pat and reassures him it’s only her.

“Alright. I’ll lead you to the wagon, and then we can tie those extra horses to the back side of it so they can’t run off. I can ride your horse or lead him back if I ride Fancy. James can ride in the back of the wagon. Shamrock will follow wherever his momma, Fancy, goes,” she plans, though she’s talking mostly to herself until the end, and walks Shamrock to the hitching post to take the reigns of the O’Driscoll horses. They toss their heads and nicker softly as she ties the reins to the horn, leaving plenty of slack so her legs don’t get caught. “That should do it.”

“Lead the way,” Arthur gestures for her to lead and watches as James clicks his tongue and Fancy prances up behind Shamrock. He follows behind the boy and mother, smile on his lips.

“You know, I gotta admit, that was some fine handling of gang members. You sure you’ve never ran with someone before?”

Arthur’s question startles Scarlet slightly and Shamrock spooks, prancing to the left and pulling the two tied horses with him. She rubs his neck and soothes him before straightening in the saddle and kicking him slightly. James lets the reins rest on the horn, hands rubbing Fancy down as he sings her praises.

“No. My brothers are part of one, or were. I’m not sure anymore, haven’t heard from them in awhile. My parents weren’t too happy bout it but they were grown and both could handle their own with the best of them. Last I heard from them, I think they was in Blackwater. But that were years ago. Long before I were even pregnant with James,” her eyes stay trained on Shamrock, blinking back the withheld tears.

The thoroughbred-mustang cross tosses his head and neighs at her discomfort, slowing from a gallop to a trot despite her order to sped up. He pulls enough so the reins are from her hands and he turns to look at her, nickering softly. Fancy speeds up to trot as close as she can beside them, gently nipping at Scarlet’s boot.

“Mama?” James inquires, concern and fear in his quivering voice. She slouches in the saddle, hand going slack on the reins. She leans forward and whispers something to Shamrock before sitting back, looking at her son with a sad smile.

“Just miss my brothers, your uncles….that’s all, James. I wish you coulda met them. I wish I knew what’s happened to them or at least where they are,” she admits and reaches into her shoulder bag. She drops one sugar cube into her right hand and leans forward to feed it to her stud. She holds her palm out for Fancy who happily eats it, then turns to each horse tied to Shamrock, coaxing them softly to take the sugar. She holds her hand out to Arthur who hesitates a moment. “It’s just a sugar cube, ain’t gonna poison your horse. I’d be stupid too,” she chuckles as he accepts the horse treat. His horse tosses his head as he pats his neck.

“Well, I guess you’re right. Can’t be too careful though,” he huffs a small laugh as he rubs his horse’s neck as it nickers happily.

“Mm. That’s the wagon, just ahead,” she nods to a wagon stashed between several trees and bushes. Arthur moves his horse to her other side to get a better look at where she’s pointing. It hadn’t been a far ride, and there’s a horse already tied to the front, pawing at the ground in wait.

“How did you get to own three horses? If you don’t mind me asking,” Arthur asks as they slow to a walk until they reach the tied wagon. Scarlet shrugs as she slips easily from the saddle and leads Shamrock to the back to tie him to one of the trees and undo the other horses.

“My mom. Fancy was hers. Well, technically my grandmother’s but when she couldn’t take care of them my mother offered to take them and well, when I was ready to leave she said I could have Fancy since she don’t ride no more. Said it would be good for her to be with someone she trusts and who would actually ride her and take care of her. She’s pretty old, thirty five or six I think,” she admits and kisses Shamrock’s nose when he puts his face in hers.

“Shamrock was born a few years after I was, so he’s roughly my age. Maybe five years younger. That,” Scarlet points to the horse on the wagon, “asshole is Shasta. He is a moody jerk who I sometimes have to fight just to put up for the night. I got him in a race. Before I were pregnant with James, I would race Fancy. Bets for money or horses were traded, depending on my opponent.

“So I beat the guy who owned him. I felt bad though cause Shasta was young then, only two at the time. His owner, a real rich prick, hit him in the face with the butt of his pistol. So I lassoed the guy off Shasta and hogtied him. Fancy just let me do my thing since she’s seen almost everything, my old girl.

“Shasta spooked so I tossed the guy on Fancy and caught Shasta, lassoing him and calming him. When I climbed into that man’s saddle, I swear he didn’t even have him broke, just listening out of fear. He immediately started bucking and kicking like crazy. I wore him down and tied him to Fancy so I could rid him of the horrid saddle. It was too big for his back! I beat the guy up a bit and yelled at him about his abuse of the poor horse and made him swear to be better. Then I looted the saddlebags and the guy for all he had on him and dropped him and his saddle on the side of the trail we were on after cutting his wrists free. I rode with Shasta tied to Fancy back to my old place and have had him since,” she recalls, chuckling at the memories of that day.

“Sounds like you like gettin into trouble, or at the very least, causin it. Should I ask Dutch to rethink this invitation? We don’t need any more trouble,” Arthur jests, climbing off his horse to help unsaddle the O’Driscoll horses.

“Nah. I’m not gonna be the cause of it. I usually just wind up pulled into it. We can change Shasta with these two so they can’t break away and run off on us. I’ll ride him and my two will follow. Unless you’d feel comfortable tying him to the back,” she rambles as she helps James into the back of the wagon before moving to help Arthur with the saddles.

“Two horses work better than one. I think I’ll let you handle unhooking Shasta though. Sounds like he’s a right brute when he wants to be,” he hefts a saddle and puts it in the remaining room in the wagon, ruffling James’ hair in passing. James sticks his tongue out at the man before clambering closer to the seat and waiting for them.

“Aha, yeah. You’re right. He’s a brute alright,” she chides and rounds the front of the wagon after adding the second saddle on top of the other one. “Go ahead and slip their bits out and I’ll settle Shasta, get him dressed in Fancy’s saddle.”

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