#she just finished curse of the warmbloods and was like ‘I KNEW IT’

[orangeblobby]

My mom while reading prophecy of bane: “I don’t trust lady military person”

“oh?”

“What’s her name. Slovakia. I don’t trust her’

[queenxxxsupreme]

Protector (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: In most of my Arthur fics, if I mention the reader’s horse his name is Calvin and he’s blind in one eye so if you’ve noticed it that’s awesome! If you haven’t no worries! I just wanted to point it out before anyone gets confused. I’m not sure how many times I’ve mentioned it but I know in my head that’s how it is 😂

Warnings: Micah being a dick, no actual animal abuse but it almost happens, Micah roughly grabs reader but that’s it, nothing out of canon

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You can defend yourself. Arthur knows this. But he makes sure Micah knows you aren’t the only reason he should keep his hands to himself.

***

You hummed softly to yourself as you helped Mr. Pearson prepare dinner. 

You looked up from the potato in your hand for a moment, eyes flickering around camp to take count of who was present. 

Mrs. Grimshaw had pulled Pearson away from his wagon and all the way to the other side of camp. Mary-Beth was sitting on a chair near her shared tent with the girls, busying herself with a book in hand.

 Abigail and Jack were towards the back of camp. Abigail was doing her best at keeping Jack occupied with the flowers growing in the grass back there. Molly was fixing her makeup in her tent at the center of camp.

 Micah was near the horses, messing with a saddle bag on his horse. Everyone else was gone. Today was one of those days that everyone was busy away from camp. 

“Son of a bitch!”

You lifted your head up from the potatoes you were peeling, turning your attention to where the horses were hitched. 

Micah stood by your horse, a gray Dutch Warmblood named Calvin. Micah was cradling his hand to his chest as he cursed, but then he looked at your horse and pulled his fist back as if to strike the animal. 

You were on your feet and crossing camp in a matter of seconds, grabbing the back of his coat and pulling him away from your horse. 

“Don’t you dare put your hands on my horse, Micah Bell.” You spoke through clenched teeth, holding the knife you’d been using to peel potatoes in your hand at your side. 

“That damn bastard of a horse bit me! Nearly took off my fucking hand!”

“Then don’t get close enough to him for him to grab you!” You raised your voice to match his, holding his gaze as he glared at you. 

Micah took a step towards you, knowing very well that he could use his height to appear more intimidating. But you weren’t one to back down so easily.

“Maybe if someone taught you a lesson in manners, that horse would behave better.”

“You don’t get to say shit about me and my manners, Bell.” You shook your head, pointing at him with the tip of the knife. “Don’t touch my horse, or I’ll put a knife between your ribs.”

You moved to return to the potatoes but Micah wasn’t about to let you off so easily. 

“Now see, girl, I don’t much care for that attitude you have.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you back around to face him. You didn’t even get a chance to use the knife to defend yourself because he’d grabbed the arm that you held the knife in. 

“Let me go, Micah.” You spoke through your teeth, glaring up at him. 

“Oh, Mr. Morgan isn’t here to save you, sweetheart. You’ve gotta face the consequences of your actions.” He smirked as he looked down at you. His grip on your arm was unbelievably tight and no matter how much you tried to get loose, you couldn’t seem to break free. “Don’t you raise your voice at me like I’m some little bitch of yours. I’m not your cowpoke. I ain’t scared of you, and I ain’t scared–,”

You cut him off by headbutting him. He immediately released you and stumbled back, cursing. 

“Don’t put your hands on my horse, Micah Bell.” You repeated your warning, readjusting your grip on your knife. 

“You think you’re big and bad because you’re sleepin’ with Morgan, don’t you?” Micah took a step towards you, wiping the blood from his lip. “Goddamned whore! Probably sleeping with half the fucking camp too!” 

“Micah!” Charles called his name. 

You turned your head to see Charles moving towards you and Micah. 

“Is she sleeping with you?” Micah pointed an accusing finger at Charles but Charles ignored him. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Charles asked you. 

“I’m fine, Charles.” You gave him a little smile, hoping that maybe he’d let the whole thing go. “Just had to have some words with Micah.”

“Looks like it was a little more than a few words.” Charles glared at Micah before following you back towards Pearson’s wagon. 

“Well, with someone like Micah Bell, words barely get through to him.” You returned to peeling potatoes. “Too damn stubborn.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Just a few moments later, Arthur, Bill, Javier, and Lenny returned to camp, hitching their horses up beside Calvin. 

Bill tethered Brown Jack to the same post Calvin was on. 

“Be careful of Calvin, Bill.” Lenny warned, pointing to your horse. “He likes takin’ a piece off of whoever passes by too close.” 

You grinned a little as you listened to them joke around about Calvin. He was a sweet horse, he was just crotchety and being that he was blind in one eye didn’t help that either. 

“I think it’s just you boys he don’t like.” You spoke up as the small group made their way into camp. “Kieran can brush him down any time of day and Calvin is just as sweet as could be.”

“That’s ‘cause Kieran sneaks the old man treats.” Javier spoke as he sat down at the table not too far away from Pearson’s wagon. “Found out how to get to Calvin’s heart. Sugarcubes.”

“Oh, it’s just ‘cause Kieran’s a sweet kid.” You teased, eyes flickering up to watch Arthur. 

He grunted, shaking his head. 

“Ain’t nothin’ sweet about an O’Driscoll.” 

You finished cutting up the potato in your hand and then put the knife down. 

“Damn bastard!” Karen shouted as she hitched her horse to a post.

“Who are you cursing at, Karen?” Lenny asked. 

“Micah! He nearly ran right into me running outta this place!” She brushed her skirt off. “What’s got him all pissed off?”

“The wind probably blew the wrong way.” Arthur said. 

You chose to stay quiet. You turned your head to look at Charles. He was near the backside of Pearson’s wagon. His eyes found yours. You took a deep breath, shaking your head just slightly, then turned your attention to Calvin. He was okay, you knew that, but you couldn’t help feeling the need to make sure he was okay. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” You wiped your hands off on a rag and set it on the table before making your way towards the horses.

Arthur took note of your behavior. You usually were the first one to poke fun at Micah, to comment on his antics. It was unlike you to stay silent when his bad attitude was brought up. 

Arthur sat down in the seat you’d previously been in, absentmindedly scratching his scruffy jaw. 

Seeing that Javier and Lenny were engaged in a conversation of their own, Charles moved to Arthur.

“Arthur?”

“Hey, Charles.” Arthur greeted him.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Arthur nodded and followed Charles towards the lake away from everyone else. 

“I didn’t see everything, but I was coming back from switching out guard duty when I saw Micah had ahold Y/N’s arm.” 

Arthur’s eyes darted across camp to you. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. She’s okay.” Charles assured him. “I just wanted to tell you because I don’t trust Micah. I don’t know if he’ll do anything or what he was trying to do. I don’t know what goes through that man’s head, and I don’t want anything to happen to Y/N.”

Arthur let out a heavy breath, running his hand over his face. Anger bubble in his veins. 

“He’s a snake, Arthur.” Charles spoke quietly.

“I know he is, Charles.” Arthur shook his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Did you…. Did you see him put his hands on her in any other way?” 

“No. All I caught was him holding her arm and she headbutted him. Caught him right in the nose and mouth.”

“He didn’t hit her or nothin’ did he?”

“Not that I saw.”

Arthur nodded his head, letting out a heavy breath through his nose. He put his hand on Charles’s shoulder, nodding his head once, then moved across camp. 

***

You approached Calvin on his right side so that he could see you. His left eye was the one that was blind and he didn’t react well to anyone coming up to him from that side. 

“Hey, handsome.” You cooed, smiling softly as you reached out to rub his nose. He huffed and leaned into your touch. Your touch moved along his neck and down his side, then to his hindquarter. “My good boy, huh? Just don’t like no one else, do ya?”

“Think you have a thing for grumpy old fellers.” 

You looked up to see Arthur rubbing Taima’s nose. 

“I like the challenge that comes with the grumpy ones.”

He chuckled.

“You, uh, you know why Micah left like he did?”

“No.” You shook your head, moving around to Calvin’s blind side. “But it’s hard to tell what’s going through that man’s head.”

“Just thought maybe you’d know since you were here with him.” Arthur thought at loud.

You shook your head. You could feel his eyes on you, studying you like a book. 

“You’d tell me if something happened, wouldn’t ya?”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. You were quiet for a few moments, locking your jaw. 

“Charles told you, didn’t he?”

Arthur nodded silently.

“He almost got a knife in his gut. He raised his fist like he was gonna hit Cal ‘cause Cal bit him. But I had it under control. No need to worry. Micah’s just a sour bastard. Don’t like being told off, especially not by a lady.”

Arthur let out a sigh. 

You gave Calvin a loving pat on the shoulder and moved to go back to Pearson’s wagon. 

“I don’t like leavin’ you here at camp with him.” Arthur followed behind you.

“I know you don’t, but you don’t have much of a choice.” You washed your hands and started to get back to work. 

His hand wrapped around your wrist and he carefully pulled you back around to face him. 

“Don’t egg him on when I’m not here.”

“I can fight my own fights, Arthur. And I’m not gonna let him hit my horse-,”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’, Y/N.” He cut you off, looking down at you. “If he ever put his hands on you, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill ‘em.”

“I know.” You placed your hand on his chest. “I know. But you, Arthur Morgan, also know that I can kick ass just as good as any man here. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

“I’ll always worry.” Arthur took your hand and brought it up to his lips. “Micah’s a snake.”

“Worrying is bad for such an old man’s heart.” A grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you moved away from him. He allowed you to slip away, watching you return to your chair by Pearson’s table. 

Arthur chuckled at you, shaking his head. 

***

Arthur settled back into bed, getting comfortable while you changed into a chemise and fixed your hair for the night. 

“I think I gotta go to Strawberry tomorrow.” 

“What for?” You slipped on your chemise, pulling it down over your head and into place. 

“Dutch said there’s someone there who has information on a train comin’ through.” Arthur tucked one hand behind his head and watched you turn to face him. His eyes flickered down to look over you. 

Though the lighting from the lamp wasn’t the best, he could see an odd marking on your bicep just above your elbow. It was darker than the rest of your skin and seemed out of place. 

Arthur sat up, brows furrowing together. 

“Come here a minute, pumpkin.”

“What?”

“Just come here.” He patted the bedside next to him. 

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, confused but unaware of what he had seen.

Now that he was close enough to see just exactly what they were, he could tell they were bruises. 

You looked down to see what he was looking at. 

“What is that?” You furrowed your brows together.

“Looks like finger shaped bruises.” Arthur just barely brushed his fingers over the markings. “Micah’s lucky I don’t cut off his goddamn hands.”

“Don’t, Arthur.” Your eyes shot up to find his. “I’m serious.”

“I am too.” Anger clouded his blue eyes, making them a stormy gray instead of the pretty vibrant blue you adored so much. 

“He ain’t worth you gettin’ in trouble, Arthur. I probably broke his nose anyways.” You stood up. “Let’s go to bed.”

Arthur was silent as he laid back down and you climbed into bed with him. You curled up against his side, resting your head on his chest. 

“Just don’t want nothin’ to happen to you, pumpkin.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. 

“Nothin’s gonna happen to me.” You assured him. 

***

Once Arthur was sure you were asleep, he put his clothes back on and slipped out of his tent. 

He looked around camp, spotting a small group gathered around a campfire near Pearson’s tent. He could spot Dutch, Hosea, Javier, Bill, John, and most importantly Micah. 

Arthur took a deep breath, fighting the urge to cross the camp and start throwing punches at Micah. 

Instead, he calmly made his way to the fire and sat down on the log next to John. 

“Thought you went to bed.” John commented. 

“Nah, can’t sleep.” Arthur shook his head. 

“Arthur! So glad you could join us!” Dutch’s voice was unnecessarily loud. Arthur hoped you wouldn’t wake up. 

“Hi, Dutch.”

“Thought you and Miss Y/L/N had gone off to bed for the night, cowpoke.” Micah offered him a beer but Arthur declined, lips pressing together in a tight line. “What happened?”

“Figured I’d stay up a little longer. Spend some time with you guys.” Arthur forced a smile on to his lips. “Don’t get to do that much anymore, do I?”

“No, as a matter of fact you don’t. You’re either off playing hero or-or…. or your off playing hero.” Bill swayed in his seat. He had too much to drink. 

“Or you know, you’ve got certain people around here up your ass.” Micah shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t have time to sit around and drink with your brothers.”

John furrowed his brows, looking over at Micah. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Bell?”

“Shut up, Marston.”

“You know what? Maybe you’re right.” Arthur tilted his head to the side a little as he looked at Micah. “What happened to your nose? I’ve never noticed it was so crooked.”

Micah scowled. 

“Or maybe it’s not.” Arthur shrugged his broad shoulders. “Maybe I just never got a good look at it.” 

“My god, Arthur, I think you’re right.” Hosea leaned forward as if to take a closer look at Micah’s nose. “Looks absolutely terrible, Micah. You might need to get that checked out.”

“Go to hell.” Micah started to stand up. 

Arthur stood up too, stepping towards Micah. 

“The next time you think about putting your hands on Y/N or her horse, the least of your concerns is gonna be her breakin’ your nose or pullin’ a knife on you, you hear me?” He spoke lowly. 

Micah held his gaze for a few moments before turning and skulking away. 

Arthur turned back to those who sat at the fire. Everyone was silent and didn’t know what to say. 

“Is Y/N okay?” Hosea asked. 

“She’s fine.” Arthur muttered, clenching his fist together. “I don’t like that fella.”

“Don’t think many of us do.” John sighed, standing to his feet.

Taglist: @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[risukki]

Shrapnel, Tessies newest mount!

I’ve for a long time now wanted to get myself a new horse in RDO and settled for a chocolate roan dutch warmblood. And he is huge compared to I’on :;) (and Tessie does 101% struggle to get up)

So here I go again on a ramble about my OC haha, can’t help it I love her to bits.

Name: Original name is unknown

Nickname: Shrapnel

Age: Hard to tell somewhere around 5-10 years

Height: 16.3hh / 170cm

Gender: Gelding

Overall temperament: Shrapnel is a calm and hard working horse. Always giving his best. He is a magnificent jumper and with his calm nature he rarely gets spooked. (I swear, trampling wolves like no problem!)

Bonus mini back story!

“This is why I told you we should’ve taken our horses with us here… with this amount of lawmen here we won’t even make it out of this area let alone the city!” hissed Tessie as she glared at the other men still breathing heavy after the resent chase down the busy streets of Saint Denis.

“What were you thinking? that we’d take the trolley?!” She continued glaring at the man in front of her.

“Okay okay, I get it, but on the positive we’re over halfway done with our job.” said Eddie, placing his hand on his satchel that held the documents they’d had gotten.

Tessie looked in disbelief at the man in front of her, fighting back the urge to slap the man as hard as humanly possible. She sighed and leaned back on the brickwall behind her.

“So what’s next?” she asked.

“We need to get these documents to this one feller, then we get outta here.” explained the man, Tessie nodded “Where?"

Tessie and the others split up heading down to the dockyard where they'd hand over the documents and book it out the City.

”Tessie I want you to stay outta this-” Eddie began before he got cut off by Tessie.

”Like hell I am, Eddie”

”Let me finish, I want you to get up somewhere and cover me and the others” Eddie explained placing his hand on Tessies shoulder shaking it firmly ”I trust you.”

Biting the inside of her cheeks she nodded and parted ways with the others again. She couldn't help but feel like something was going to go terribly wrong. The place was eerily quiet, too quiet.

Taking a few deep breaths she took out a box of ammunition and began loading her bolt action rifle.

Looking through the scope she watched as Eddie and the others headed into the fenced in area close to the docks. It was messy, with boxes, barrels, wagons and what not scattered everywhere perfect for hiding in. Closely following the interaction between the man and Eddie with her finger ready on the trigger. Everything seemed to be going well maybe it was just her who was stressing to much.

In a split second the dockyard had turned into a bloodbath. Yelling and the sound of gunfire echoed all around. More lawmen began showing up from all directions surrounding the area.

Tessie saw the other men try and flee out of the bloodbath that was happening on the yard. Lawmen everywhere surrounding the area making it close to impossible for them to escape.

Following the route some of them were taking she took down some of the lawmen providing them a way to escape. She could see them made a quick wave as they booked out of there. After she could no longer see the others of her gang she realised she hadn’t seen Eddie anywhere. A panic rose up within her.

Looking for a way to get quick down to the chaos her eyes landed on a unsuspecting lawman riding in front of her. Knocking out the unsuspecting lawman she dragged him down behind a building ripping of his blue woolen uniform jacket.

Struggling to get her foot in the stirrup she cursed. She got up she spurred the horse into a gallop down the alleyways looking for Eddie. She saw him take a left as she chased after him.

She halted the horse as she saw that he was in fact cornered by her.

”Tessie what are you doing here?! I told you to stay away!” Eddie hissed as he recognised the person in front of him. He had been sure it was a lawman and that he was going to die there on the spot.

”Shut up, and get up we don't have much time before they find us” Tessie hissed in response, she noticed Eddie holding his right arm with a pained expression. Even if he tried his best to mask it she knew, but decided to not comment on it in the moment.

…..

After a long ride through the swamps Tessie and Eddie decided to pitch up their tents and rest. Luckily the wound on Eddies arm wasn’t deep and he had managed to get to stop bleeding while riding.

“Whatcha gonna do about the horse?” asked Eddie gesturing to the gelding grazing on a fresh patch of grass next to both of them. Tessie looked at the horse, short trimmed mane and tail, good build, no doubt an expensive horse.

”I don't know, kinda wanna keep him” she replied.

”Tsk, everyone one would mistake you for a lawman, honestly I thought I was done for when you came. Intimidating sight” said Eddie rubbing his chin.

”Yeah, and you should've seen me struggle to get up too” chuckled Tessie meeting Eddies intense stare he looked like he wanted to say something.

”Mhm, you know, how should I put it” he began ”Thank you, I” searching for the right words he paused again before continuing ”I’m thankful to have you by my side. And on the behalf of the others you saved their skins as well. Thank you.”

Tessie sighed, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. She looked up at Eddie, her eyes watering through her blurry vision she wrapped her arms around Eddies firm body, letting out a quiet sob. Eddie held her close rubbing circles on her shoulder with his better arm. ”Shh, it’s alright.”

”Sorry, I’m acting like this, but what happened there, I don’t know how I could live with the fact that I couldn’t help you guys outta there…” she mumbled between sobs.

Her head was throbbing and her body was shivering not from the cold but the adrenaline wearing off.

”But you did and that’s what matters”

Tessie pulled away from Eddies embrace offering a weak smile, turning her head to the still unnamed gelding ”And thank you to you too” she thanked stroking the horses neck. It lifted its head looking at her and let out low snort.

”Shrapnel, do you think that’d suit him?” She asked turning her head to face Eddie who nodded.

I think I’m making them a thing, also english is not my native tongue, it felt nice to write something again. Haven’t done that in a long time, might write more, helps me to get my thoughts in order haha

[thefinalyeehaw]

Ballad of Dell Jennings (Rdr2 fanfic) Prologue pt. 2

Part 2: Dell Jennings, Horse thief

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Horse thievery became Dell’s main staple. She had a natural talent for horses, the broncos were calmer and trusting in the presence of the young girl. Because of this ability, Dell becomes an expert in luring even the most headstrong horses from the hitching posts of local saloons without alerting the riders or patrons of the crime. Then afterward she sold the fillies to Mr. Larson, the dubious owner of the neighboring town’s stables, who never batted an eye when Dell always rode in on the horse she planned to sell him.

She knew stealing horses was the equivalent to murder, especially out in the West, where equines was a person’s livelihood. Guilt would probably eat at her if her intended targets weren’t well-to-do businessmen whose pockets could afford another pony.

The money Dell stole from her “guide” was dwindling fast, she spent a large amount when visiting the Creedstad general store, prior to the theft of Jolie, for supplies after an appointment with the sneering tailor to fit the clothes stolen from the unguarded suitcase of a male train passenger. She was in dire need for a big score and soon, her tinned ration supply receding at an alerting rate.

“Ya wanna make serious bank?” Mr. Larson asks one foggy morning, leaning against the wooden gate of the stall as Dell brushed the slightly tangled mane of a Dutch Warmblood. Sometimes Dell worked at the stables when she needed to lay low until the law of a neighboring town stop sniffing around for a horse thief to string up.

“What do you mean, sir?” She knew to be wary about any job suggestion the stable owner gave her. Mr. Larson, a hefty Midwestern man with a thinning scalp of caramel hair, steely-eyed, with a bear-like rumble of a voice, is a notorious swindler who uses down-on-their-luck schmucks to do his dirty work and then, is not afraid to finger them for the blame.

“Ya know, a gig, one that could fill up ya pockets handsomely,” Though facing away from the man, she could tell the stable owner was becoming slightly annoyed by Dell’s oblivious attitude, the man had a rigid no-bullshit policy.

“Oh! What is it then?” Dell always enjoys playing the role of a fool, everyone underestimates her cleverness because of her age and impoverished appearance. And never fail to be flabbergasted when realizing they have been hoodwinked, cursing the young thief’s name in the wind as she rides into the next town with a heavier satchel and a sly grin plastered on her face.

“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Jennings,” Mr. Larson said in a sing-song voice that made Dell suppress a cringe at the Mr. It became apparent early for Dell, many people believed she was a boy. A belief only made truer by her lanky shapeless figure that swam in dark billowing shirts, often hung off her narrow shoulders, despite it buttoned up to her sternum. The cuffs of her oil-ruined pants rested high above her ankle, the ill-fit hem was cinched tightly to her amorphous hips by a well-worn belt. And her hair, pixie-cut mop of auburn locks, often hidden underneath a tan Stetson hat, Dell stole from a drunken man asleep at the bar of the saloon she was scoping out. To everyone else, Dell looked to be a young orphaned boy, too tall and lithe for his clothes and filthy from the backroads the forgotten must survive on.

A few months earlier, she definitely had been offended by Mr. Larson’s assumption of gender, but now Dell knew it was a blessing, the young thief learn quickly it was better to be a wayward boy in the West, then a wayward girl.

“Ever heard a Hoagy Macintosh?”

Snapped out of her thoughts, Dell shook her head “No. Who’s that?”

Mr. Larson let out a heavy sigh behind her, grumbling underneath his smoky breath about clueless brats. Ignoring the miffed owner, Dell finished brushing the horse’s mare, she admires dark silky hair as the strands seemed to glow in the dim lighting of the stable. The glow of the horse’s mane reminded her of a simpler time in her past, she often forced herself to not think upon it, for it was just too painful to recall. As she returns once again to the present, Dell noticed Mr. Larson began explains further “Hoagy Macintosh is a wealthy doctor from New England, comes a long line of well-respected physicians-”

“What does this have to do with the job?” She turned to the man, irritated. He was beating around the bush, she could tell. Usually, Mr. Larson was very straightforward with his demands and bargaining, so this was unknown for Dell, it terrified her.

“If ya didn’t interrupt, brat, I would have gotten to the goddam’ point!” Mr. Larson growled, annoyance flashing on his aged face before returning to the man’s regular scowl “Long story short, he’s in town and owns me some money from a poker game a few years back.”

Now, was that so hard to say? “Okay. How does this involve me?” Dell responds, watching as another stablehand, whose name Dell could never place, slip past her to grab the reigns of Dutch Warmblood. The stable hand guided the snorting bronco around the two and outside to the fenced-in field for grazing.

When Dell glanced back at Mr. Larson, a sense of dread filled her belly as the stable owner grinned wolfly at her, showing off his missing front tooth “I want ya to steal the bastard’s horse.”

* * *

The sense of dread never left her.

Not even after she delivered the silver Turkoman to the grasp of Mr. Larson, grinning crazily like a man who lost his mind. “Thank ya for ya service, Mr. Jennings!” The man celebrated, clapping Dell in the back with a level of force that would send an unbalanced person to the ground. “...All in a day’s work, Mr. Larson” She wheezed out, her lungs heaved from nearly having the air knocked out “So where’s my payment?”.

Mr. Larson simply waved her over, telling the young thief to come back in a week and a half, claiming that once the horse is sold, she will be paid.

Irate, Dell stormed out of the stables. She wasn’t too pleased about waiting for the couple of weeks to get paid, people typically pay her once the horse is in their possession. Money was already tight of her, food was scarce back at her campsite, there was only a three-days worth of canned goods which mean she is going to go hungry before getting paid by Mr. Larson. She groaned aloud, rubbing a hand across her face, disgusted at the filth that appeared on her glove. Wishing deeply that she had the money to take a nice soak at the town’s hotel, guess she could wash up in the river, even though it was running with the melted snow from winter as the season of spring quickly approached. She grimaced at the thought of the frigid water kissing her bare skin, deciding that it was better to wait the week and a half than take her chances with hypothermia.

Dell strolled down the dirt road towards the town of Underwell, a tiny mining town known for its abundance of coal in the surrounding mountainside and its vast criminal underground. Though the town does not seem like a community of thieves, liars, and gunslingers with the freshly-painted houses, clean roads, quiet shops, and kind-looking people. But once the sun slips past the mountains, that when the low-lifes come out.

The sun hangs high in the clear blue sky, signaling noontime. Dell made her way towards the saloon, she has visited the bar to drink after the death of Jolie but got refused by an older barmaid, scolding the youth “Come back when there’s sum hair on ya chest”. Jolie, her late mare got bit by a rattlesnake while the two stroll through some tall grass, Dell tried to get the bronco to Mr. Larson get aid. The Midwestern man directed the distraught thief up to his office, distracting the youth with details of his new gramophone as a nameless stable-hand led the stumbling Turkoman behind the stable. Dell appreciates Mr. Larson turning up the gramophone in his office, muting the gunshot underneath the second-floor window.

Dell snapped out of her thoughts when she noticed a flash of white in the corner of her eye, she grinned as she caught sight of her prize from the theft. At the hitching post stood the white Arabian owned by one Hoagy Macintosh. When she went to steal the horse, she became intrigued by the powerful grace of the snow-colored stallion, deciding at the moment to steal the horse for her personal use. To swindle Mr. Larson, she decided to grab the horse next to the stallion, the silver Turkoman that is residing in his stable.

The young Arabian noticed the young thief’s arrival and announced his annoyance, stomping an impatient hoof upon the ground, stirring up puffs of dust. Dell rolled her eyes at the act, the stallion was barely out of his time of being a foal, so she knew the horse was yet to be trained.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You hate waiting, boy,” Reaching out to stroke the abrasive equine’s colorless mane, the stallion relaxed underneath the girl’s hand, leaning closer into her palm. Dell smiled softly, untangling her hand from the horse’s silky hair, she proceeded to climb onto the stallion, with much difficulty. The equine was unusually tall for an Arabian horse, at least a good hand or two taller than average. And Dell’s atypical height didn’t help her struggle with climbing on top of the horse, luckily the Arabian stay still as the girl managed to swing her leg over the stallion’s wide back, securing her boot in the other stir-up.

“Come on, boy, let’s go,” She said, pulling the stallion into a trot down the main road as they entered the outskirts of Underwell.

“Fucking asshole!” Dell cried out.

Early in the day, she returned to the Underwell stables a week-and-a-half later, to collect her payment. “I haven’t sold the horse yet,” Mr. Larson called out from his second-floor office as the young thief entered the stable. Dell blinked for a moment, then her confusion morph to anger “What? You told me that I would be paid in a week and a half. It’s been a week and a half! Where’s my money?” Her voice bounced off the wood walls of the stable, startling a few of the horses in nearby stalls. Dell knew better than to cause a public scene, but she was too livid by Mr. Larson’s deception to care.

Mr. Larson, unfazed by the youth’s outburst, clambered down the wood stairs that groaned underneath the weight of the burly man “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Jennings,” The man said, tilting his balding head down in mocking guilt, Dell fought the urge to knock out his remaining front tooth as the stable owner approached her. “Ya see, the fella I was intending to sell the Turkoman to, never showed. So I have been scrambling to find a new buyer, unfortunately, I hadn’t got much luck” Dell huffed, scrubbing her face with her hand. She was nearly out of money, despite taking on a couple of horse stealing jobs, to provide some food for herself and her new horse. But it still wasn’t enough, and now the law slowly closing in on her after a botched theft in a few towns over, she needed to leave town soon with cash in her pockets.

“How long you do need?”

“Another week.” Mr. Larson quickly added when Dell shot the owner a dumbfounded expression “An old buddy of mine coming to town, he owns land in Michigan, he’ll take the horse off my hands for the same price I gave the other fella.” Mr. Larson then stuck out a paw-like hand in front of the conflicted horse thief “Do we have a deal, Mr. Jennings?” Dell stared down at the hand as if she had never seen one before. Knowing this was probably of Mr. Larson’s scams to sell her out to the law, in order to keep the cash, and by shaking the man’s hand, she might as well sign her death certificate too. But money was scarce, she desperately needs the profits from the Turkoman sale to keep her afloat, at least until she reaches the next county.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Dell reached out and shook the meaty palm.

“You have a deal, Mr. Larson.”