#the buck and the fox

[trappers-cloak]

The Buck and the Fox

Chapter 2 - The Jewel of the Heartlands

Chapter 2 of my ongoing fanfic, the Buck and the Fox.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x female oc, narrative building. i'm trying to stay away from tropes to describe rn, still new to writing and posting fanfiction!

word count: ~4k

Diana Wegner

It had been several days since Diana had her life given back to her, albeit by the skin of her teeth. To her, it may have seemed like months since she had seen the man - Arthur - yet she found herself thinking of him often. Each time she did, she pinched herself, remembering the vows she choked through in the chapel, five years prior. 

Not that she had to pinch herself often. Where she grew up with ample time on her hands to think and read and embroider and mull over the state of the world, she now had a ranch to take charge of. Cows to milk, sheep to shear in the summer, chickens to feed. 

A typical day began in her tent. This was the first abnormality of her would-be married life. The tent behind the store that Arthur had seen had a companion tent for three quarters of every month. Each morning in the tent had its reason for starting there, but this morning was defined by cold water, a pail, and a set of bloody undergarments. 

Diana grunted as she scrubbed them clean. She had grown used to this particular part of womanhood in recent years - before, her parents would never have dreamt she’d be put to such a task. Then again, they would be appalled if they saw her in any capacity today. 

After the underclothes were scrubbed beyond recognition - with only a light brown stain, where a deep cherry red had been - she got herself dressed for the morning. For ranchwork, she opted for her pants, a loose pair, with a black unbuttoned shirt. She pulled out a pleasant sage green hat  - a round thing that had a sturdy, ornamental rope spiraling around its trim. 

The hat provided some good protection from the beating May sun, an especially useful trait given the lack of shade beside the big green barn. The various chores took Diana the better part of the day - feed the chickens, help Cripps set up the stew pot. Finally, she would reward herself with her favorites: the cattle. The great cows, Juno and Bessie, all but ran to the sight of Diana. They were some of her only friends of late - it was too hard for Eugene to forbid her from speaking to animals. 

“Hey, girls,” she cooed, petting both of them before picking up some hay. The cows mooed in response, nudging each other’s faces out of the way for the first bite. “There ya go,” Diana said again, feeling their hot breath on her hands. The great big bull stood nearby, waiting his turn. He had just been branded - the scar, and the pain from it, made the beast a bit shy of farmhands. The scar on his rump reminded Diana of her other purpose. 

“Seamus?” she called, grabbing another handful of hay. She called the name again as she walked over to the bull, beginning to feed it. “Thereeee, Vulcan, there ya go. I’m sorry, buddy,” she said. She knew better than to try petting him. “I’ll pick you something for that later.”

“Seamus?” she called again. I swear, if he’s drunk again… “Seamus? Where are you, you lazy sod!”

The grunting from behind the workbench told her all she needed to know. 

“You been on the moonshine again, then?”

Seamus bumped his head, and swore. “No,” he replied. “I’ve just been organizing the goods all day and magically collapsed!” The moonshine bottles clinked together under the bench. 

“Anything of use come by, then?” she asked, hoping for a hit. 

“Just these earrings - oh, and a silver bracelet. Nothing of much-”

“I’ll decide that, thank you very much.”

A small bag and a few coins exchanged hands. Seamus and Diana had formed an understanding three years ago, when Diana had caught him buying stolen goods from the brigands found around the county. She gained his allegiance when she’d promised not to tell Eugene, who would not only have thrown a fit, but would have demanded a hefty sum of the profits. Her husband was not only a hard-handed owner, but a ruthless capitalist with a nose for cash like a bloodhound. 

In exchange for some money, Seamus gave Diana the fine pieces of jewelry he came across. Paired with the feathers of pheasants, ducks and geese, Diana had grown skilled at creating small trinkets - a skill she had truly perfected as a child. The cowboys who frequented the store often liked to adorn their hats. 

The bag secured on her gunbelt, Diana turned again to seamus. “Any new carts?” Seamus also dealt in stolen buggies, which were few and far between. 

“Only one - a little two seater buggy. Romantic, fancy little thing,” he answered, and before Diana could ask, he said “Mister Wegner took it out already. Went to Valentine. Something about a horse?”

Diana raised her eyebrows. “How long do you think he’ll be there?”

“He brought a money clip with him. And a flask.”

So, it was an all night excursion. Eugene had a gambling habit, a drinking habit, and, when it suited him, a spending habit. Horses were his vice. He always had to have the fastest steed in the Heartlands, or else it became everyone else’s problem. Before her banishment to the tents, such a thing had been her burden to bear. Diana shuddered at the thought. 

But today, a blessing. The house was open. The maids were easy bribes, and the greenhorns who guarded the house were already out with the sheep. 

“Thank you, Seamus. That’ll be all.”

“Yes ma’am,” the Irishman replied, and he hightailed his way into the barn looking for something to do. Diana, a spring in her step, walked over to the big green house, the crown of Emerald Ranch. She supposed she should call it her house, but it wasn’t. This house was a place she frequented, sure, but it wasn’t hers. 

The maid moved to stop her at the bottom of the steps, but Diana quickly silenced her with a flash of the silver earrings Seamus had given her. It was enough to buy silence for today, but the best bet for future visits was a platinum pair. Diana walked up the stairs, confident, secure in the fact that she didn’t need to hide her steps from her husband. Valentine was a half days trip away - she wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed there overnight. 

“Miriam?” she called, hoping not to scare the girl. 

“Diana?!” The response came from down the hall, and Diana took out the key, a secret copy Cripps had made for her. The click of the lock was music to her ears, and she opened the door to find her stepdaughter adorned in a simple black nightgown. 

Miriam pulled Diana into a bearhug before she was given a chance to say hello. 

“My God, I’ve missed you. Father’s been a terror these last few nights,” the girl sighed, face buried in Diana’s hair. 

“I’ve missed you too,” Diana said, and she pulled away to notice tears in Miriam’s eyes. This was almost enough to bring tears to her own as well - she blinked them away, trying to focus on every detail of Miriam’s face. 

Beautiful as both the women were, they bore little resemblance. Miriam was a blonde, her hair in a permanent updo, her legs perpetually hidden behind a skirt. She was a skinny woman, all skin and bones, a new development since the incident of the saloon. Her face, picturesque as always, was contorted with tears and another emotion Diana recognized well. Anger. 

“What has he been doing? Talking about?” Diana asked. How strange it was, for a wife to ask that of her husband. 

“Mostly blather about the ranch. Farmhands never do enough, blasted maids, you know. But yesterday and today he was on about some horse up in Valentine,” Miriam reported, transformed. This was business now. 

“I heard about that, from Seamus. Did he say anything more about the sheep?”

“Why?” Miriam looked puzzled at the question. “What’s wrong with the sheep?”

Diana couldn’t believe it. She knew Eugene kept Miriam in a proverbial ivory tower, but she could scarce believe how much he kept from his own daughter. Miriam was practically a grown woman, at 16 years old, but Eugene sheltered her like a 6 year old princess. 

“You didn’t hear the gunshots a few days ago?”

“When?”

“About two hours before I came to dinner that day. It was mutton that night. Ring any bells?”

Miriam paled - she looked sick at the mention. “I do. But I didn’t hear, because…”

Diana’s heart pounded. What the hell happened while she was out?!

“We were in the basement before dinner. He…was having me try on mother’s old dresses. Claimed he wanted to sell some, but he didn’t want to get rid of anything that fit me,” Miriam said, her eyes downcast. “That’s why I was so quiet at dinner.”

Diana recoiled. She hadn’t been surprised that a family dinner was quiet - they either devolved into a den of snakes snapping at each other, or remained silent for their duration. Eugene was a firm believer in being the man of the house, and asserted this often at the dinner table. 

She was more concerned about the basement. 

“Did he…do anything else?” she probed. 

“No,” Miriam replied, quickly. Assertively. “He just said I looked nice in the dresses, then went back upstairs. I…imbibed that night.” Miriam blushed at the confession. 

“So did I,” Diana said, the memory of the moonshine sliding down her throat like berry-flavored kerosene. She was surprised that Miriam didn’t imbibe more often, given her seclusion. 

“I did meet someone,” Diana added, an involuntary blush rising to her cheeks. “Two days ago, some O’Driscoll’s tried to come after the sheep. I thought I was a goner, until some cowboy shot them both in the head. It was like he shot at the speed of light, and twice as accurate. They didn’t know what hit them!” Diana was gushing now, and she couldn't stop. “Had a nice southern accent too.”

Miriam giggled, but there was a caution to her. “So…are you…”

Diana started. “Heavens, no!” she yelped. “No…I was talking about him…for you! If Eugene knew you could get a suitor, and if it was some strong cowboy like this man, then maybe-”

Miriam’s eyes, at their spilling point, gave Diana pause. She turned towards the window, looking down the center of the ranch. 

“I know you love me like I’m your own…but please. You need to know me, too. You need to know that I’m not ready yet,” she choked. 

“Miriam, I-” Diana stuttered. “I’m so sorry, I just thought…” she trailed off, and steadied herself, walking towards her stepdaughter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open up old wounds.”

“It’s not that old. Maybe to you it is, with your ranching and your sheep, but up here? Time moves like molasses, and grief twice as slow.”

Miriam was three times the reader Diana would ever be, and for good reason. It showed in these moments, where she seemed more the ghost of a poet than an imprisoned prairie nymph. Diana was almost unstung by her words. 

“I…well, I can’t say I know, but I understand. Time will resume soon.”

“How?”

“Because I’ll kill Eugene if he keeps you here beyond your 18th birthday.”

“Good luck with that,” Miriam said, scoffing. “More likely he’ll just marry me off and you’ll never see me again. Send me off in the night…”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Diana said, setting herself up for a joke. “In fact, if he even tries-” 

The pair were cut off by Pluto’s barking, right below the window. The dog was in earnest. All Diana knew was that Pluto only barked like this as an alarm. A warning. 

“Damn,” she muttered. “It’s Pluto.” Miriam knew what she meant instantly. 

“Father’s not supposed to be back this early! He wouldn’t even be halfway to Valentine yet!”

“Either way, it’s something. Pluto doesn’t mess around.” Diana moved to leave, before pausing. She reached into the small bag Seamus gave her, and pulled out the silver bracelet. She held out the pretty thing to Miriam. “Here,” she said, unhooking the clasp.

Miriam kept her wrist at her side, to Diana’s confusion. It wasn’t like Miriam to deny such a gift - it was something that kept her sanity, handling the trinkets from the wider world. 

“Keep it. Give it to Josh,” she whispered, moving to her desk. She pulled out an envelope. “I know it's a waste of paper, too, but…” she handed the envelope to Diana. It said, in bold letters on the front, Dear Mother. “Burn these two and spread the ashes over both of them. They’re both in the envelope,” she said. 

Diana knew immediately what she meant, and nodded. “I will,” she said, and paused. “I love you, Miriam,” she added. 

“I love you too,” Miriam replied. “Now go. You know what could happen.” Diana hesitated, to which Miriam laughed. “I’ll be fine.”

“So will I,” Diana said, grinning. “What else could he do, anyway?”

Arthur Morgan

There was still sleep in Arthur’s eyes when he heard Tilly’s voice float over to him. A welcome wake-up, compared to something like Bill’s grumbling or the drunken singing of Reverend Swanson. Arthur had slept most of the day away after being on guard duty the night before. 

“Hey, Arthur- oh, sorry. Want me to come back another time?” Tilly asked, concern showing on her face. 

“Nah,” Arthur grunted as he rose. His neck popped as he turned his head to the side. “D’you need something?”

“I just got a message from Hosea - he said to ask if you could meet him at some place called Emerald Ranch. Said he found something, struck a deal with the foreman near there?”

Emerald Ranch. Arthur was glad for the excuse to go back there. He could check on his bear hide, swindle the tanner for some more stew or whiskey. 

He could even get a look at that shepard again. 

He cleared his throat, and responded. “Thanks, Tilly. I’ll head over now. Save me some stew, will ya?”

“Even if Pearson messes it up?”

“Even if he overcooks it. That's what whiskey is for.” 

Tilly laughed, and walked away. Arthur moved to put on his old hat, but caught a glance of himself in his tiny mirror. His beard had grown bushy - Dutch had kept him busy these last few days. Hosea could wait a few minutes for a man to shave, right? Plus, arthur wanted to look  presentable for a new client, or partner in crime, or whoever this foreman was. Nothing else to it. 

Nothing at all. 

Ares was chomping at the bit when Arthur got to him. The war horse, he had learned, was an impatient one, wanting to run amok at nearly all hours of the day. This was a bit of a nuisance, but good for the ride ahead. It was quite some distance to the ranch, over flat plains. Ares would have the time of his life galloping there - and he did. The ride was a good deal shorter thanks to the horse’s restlessness. 

By the time Arthur arrived, it was evening, a golden light bathing the Heartlands. Hosea was perched and waiting by the big barn on the south end, talking to some crusty ranch hand who looked more like a criminal than most of the Van der Linde crew. Hitching his horse, Arthur could hear some of Hosea’s nonsense - the man was spinning some yarn about the supposed “layoffs” the gang had endured up north, a part of their grand cover story. 

“Now, being short on money, many of us are forced to sell some of our most precious belongings, and if you tell me you have a market for such things, then we would be much obliged-”

“I buy and sell ‘lost’ things, mister. How they got lost is none of my concern, and I pride myself on my…discretion. I hope I can depend on yours,” the man replied. 

Hosea seemed taken aback, but recovered quickly. Noticing Arthur, he waved, and brought him towards the ranch hand.

“Arthur, my boy, this kind man is Seamus, he’s the foreman here at Emerald Ranch. He has promised to turn our treasures that we find around here into gold, isn’t that right, Seamus?”

The foreman nodded curtly, and set a box down on the small counter he had built up. 

“Jewelry, watches, even teeth, if you gottem,” he said. “Your old man here has given me quite a few things already.”

“That I have,” Hosea gloated. “And he paid a good price. I’d love to stay around and chat, but I have some affairs to attend to back at home. The wife must be furious by now!” he patted Arthur on the back, a shit-eating grin on his face as he turned. He was off, kicking dust in the air on horseback within the minute. 

Turning to the foreman- Seamus - again, Arthur took some of his findings out of his bag. A few pocket watches, one gold tooth, nothing much to show. 

“Well, these are fine material - platinum too? Hefty profit. A shame these bastards lost these things,” Seamus remarked. 

“Shut up, you know what this is about,” arthur replied. 

“You sure you don’t wanna buy anything from me? I have a nice assortment - moonshine too. Rings, necklaces, some nice things to bring back to a lady…”

“Boss man know you’re doing this?” Arthur asked. 

“Jesus, no, he’d skin me alive. Or worse,” Seamus whispered, “take a cut of the profit. Now that we can’t abide. The missus doesn’t mind though.”

Arthur paused. Did this slime of a man mean…Diana? The shepard? 

“Oh, so you’ve seen her?” Seamus asked, smirking. Arthur was acutely aware of his freshly shaved face. Should he have left some stubble on?

“...Yeah. saved her a few days ago from some of them O’Driscoll’s," Arthur replied. 

“Oh, well at least you ain’t lookin for Miriam,” Seamus said. This was confusing, now - was Arthur supposed to know this other name?

“I probably shouldn’t ask, but….who’s that?”

“You're not from around here, so I’ll answer - for a price. Normally we keep this sort of thing on lock. For just a few dollars for a poor, poor underpaid foreman, you too can know-”

“For god’s sake man, tell me before I put a bullet in your head and take my business somewhere else!” Arthur spat the words out. He moved to grab his gun. 

“Jesus sir, fine, I’ll throw in some moonshine too…” Seamus grabbed a bottle. 

“Gimme that, ya clown. Now spill, like two men talking over drinks ought to.” Arthur said, grabbing the bottle and taking a sip. The shine was flavored - something sweet, like apple cider. Arthur had tasted stronger beer. 

“And the money-ugh never mind,” Seamus looked dejected, and a bit afraid. Arthur liked his business partners that way - made ‘em less likely to squeal. 

“So, Miriam is the daughter of Mister Eugene Wegner. She’s Missus Diana’s stepdaughter, and a fine, pretty girl. She had suitors from allllll over the Heartlands, and some from Rhodes too. One even came from Saint Denis. But she decided to shack it up with one of the farm boys in that old abandoned saloon. Now, Mister Eugene? He was never the same after that. Man went on a rampage like no other. He was never like to marry off Miss Miriam, and shot that farmhand dead when he caught them...copulating.”

Arthur hadn’t anticipated this much of a story. But then, he hadn’t expected to save a woman who turned out to be the missus of the ranch. He had to hide how invested he was - he felt like Mary-Beth must feel, everytime she read one of her novels. 

“...okay? And then?”

Seamus snickered. “Take another sip, this here’s a doozy.”

“Fine,” Arthur said. The moonshine’s sweetness exploded in his mouth. It was still weaker than an old drunk taking a swing.

“Now, Missus Diana came back from some hunting trip to find the carnage, and threw a goddamn fit. Pulled some new fancy bow and arrow and aimed at Mister Eugene. Half the ranch drew on her before she put the bow down. Now, I don’t know the rest of the specifics, but after that day? Miriam’s been locked in that big ol’ house, and Missus Diana doesn’t sleep in the house except for one week, every month. Mister Eugene shouted something to the effect of ‘you wanna act like a savage, sleep outside like one!’ to her last time she tried to go in,” he continued. 

“Now, I ain’t no gossip, or a snitch, but seeing as you seem interested, i’ll tell you myself; stay on Mister Eugene’s good side. Whatever kinda bandits you and your old man are, don’t steal from here. The man is a mean old bastard, sure, but he…there’s other stuff too. He’s a time bomb.”

Arthur nodded again, though he was left with plenty more questions. Before he could ask any of them, a big black lab came bounding down the lane, barking up a storm. Pluto. 

A small buggy came barreling down the lane, almost running over the dog, who whimpered and spirited away. Behind the buggy, tethered to its back, was a magnificent horse, the same blue roan color as Ares. 

“Woah!” the driver shouted. He was an old man, mutton-chopped. His face was a sour one, despite the steed he had in tow. 

“Mister Wegner! New horse?” Seamus shouted back. 

Wait. Was this man…

“That’s Mister Eugene. Be polite, man,” Seamus whispered to Arthur. “And put that damn moonshine away!”

“Meet my newest stallion, a horse - hic - fit for a king!” Eugene said. He was clearly drunk - it was a wonder he’d gotten back from Valentine in one piece. The stallion whinnied behind him. He didn’t look too thrilled with his new rider. 

“Anwho’sthisfeller?” Eugene slurred, glancing briefly between arthur and seamus. 

“This here’s a man lookin’ for goods, Mister Wegner. I was just about to send him over to Cripps to see if he wants any,” Seamus replied. Quick thinking, even though that wasn’t technically a lie. 

“Great! Terrific! Have a good gander, sir! Now where’s my wife?” 

The moonshine burned Arthur's throat at the question. 

“W-what about her, Mister Wegner?” Seamus asked. Even he seemed nervous at the question. 

“I’m gonna,” Eugene began, hiccuping as he spoke. “I shall have her tonight, a time for celebrating!” he leered. 

A few things sunk in for arthur. While he’d known the woman- Diana - was married to this fool, it hadn’t dawned on him how much older Eugene was. The man must be at least 60 - and Diana was a young woman. She must be John’s age - and must’ve been even younger when she married the man. His stomach roiled, and he knew it wasn’t the damn moonshine. 

Desperate to get out of the conversation, arthur murmured a goodbye to Seamus and rode down the lane to the store. Cripps was in the back, stirring the stew that was left. 

“Hey, mister,” Arthur said, strolling up to the old man. 

“Mister Morgan! The savior of sheep! Welcome back!” Cripps exclaimed. He too was clearly drunk, but a jolly one. 

Before Arthur could respond, Cripps got a bit excited. “And have I got news for you, my friend!”

“Oh? About…” 

“About your pelts, good man! I’ve made some fine things, you’ll love ‘em!”

Arthur tried to hide his disappointment, semi-successfully. The stew in the pot smelled delicious, but his stomach still churned with the thought of Diana and Eugene. He would’ve drank it away, if not for the fear of throwing it up. Damned moonshine. 

He sighed, and gestured to Cripps.

“Let’s see ‘em then,” he said. 

Some time later - it had to be an hour or more - Arthur sat atop Ares on a hill, east of the ranch. It really was a pretty spot, a glen - a good spot for hunting, if he had space on his horse. On the back of Ares sat a parcel. The old man Cripps had given arthur a grand tour of his tanning setup - complete with his plans on what to do with the gargantuan bear pelt arthur had given him. 

“This thing is big enough to make 3 big coats,” Cripps had said, “but I’m loath to cut it all up like that! Maybe i could make it a wall-hanger for ya’!”

“Well, I’m sure that would look good, mister, but I’m not in the market for wall hangings. I’d have to have a wall, first,” Arthur replied. 

“Well, then…how about a blanket then? In case you and your comrades get stuck up in the Grizzlies again.”

Normally, Arthur would have rejected such a thing - a blanket seemed like a luxury, given the shit that the gang had been up to lately. But feeling the heavy softness of the pelt, he caved. After all, Dutch was the one who’d said things were looking up for the gang, on the first day they settled onto their new camp. Who knew how long they’d be stuck here - may as well make Horseshoe Overlook feel like home. 

“Sure,” he’d said. “Anything else you got for me, mister?”

“Well, I’ve got two gifts for ya. One’s from me, the other from the missus.”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat as Cripps gave him the parcel that now adorned Are’s back. 

“Don’t open them until you’re home. We like surprises, here mister Morgan. Hope you’re alright with that.”

And so Arthur sat atop the hill, a parcel at his back and a small moonshine bottle in his hand. As he took one final sip of the sweet stuff, he spotted a figure in the distance. It stood in a skirt and blouse before a gravestone, towards the train station. 

He watched as the figure lit a small paper aflame, and let it burn on top of the gravestone. 

Suddenly, she looked towards him, and appeared to squint, before waving. As the sun caught her hair, he knew instantly. The figure was Diana. He gave a small wave back, a sheepish one, and turned his horse. He would not even allow the setting sun to see his blush as he broke Ares back into a gallop.

[emmy-likes-attention]

Wait, a character can become canonically queer and not immediately be sent to super mega turbo hell by the writers???

[stevenrogered]

Remember when I told you that the universe is gonna send a special person your way? Here she is!

[watchyourbuck]

[trappers-cloak]

​maybe I’ll share my Spotify playlist for my lovely followers

Unfortunately every song is about The Character

[mythtakens]

9-1-1 + out of context

[vilmathelemon]

Sweet Buddie kiss

[neptune-scythe]

[lover-of-mine]

#Buck at the thought of loving his partner of many months........ baby boy what are you doing

[trappers-cloak]

The Buck and the Fox

Chapter 1 - The Shepard and the Angel

Chapter 1 of my ongoing fanfic, the Buck and the Fox.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x female oc, meet cute, introduction to my oc Diana Wegner.

word count: 2k

Diana Wegner

The sun was high enough - and hot enough -  that Diana had ditched her coat. The great green thing hung over the rump of Althea, bouncing as the pair trotted along. Pluto let out a small bark below, nipping at the heels of a dozen sheep along the hillside. The wind billowing through the trees wasn’t nearly enough to stave off the heat, but it swept the sweat from her brow. The surrounding grass was a bright green, peppered with reds and pinks and oranges, all the herbs dotting the Heartlands. Diana could hear no sound besides sheep bleating. That sound was a welcome one, and she sent a silent thanks to God that no human voices polluted her ears. 

A voracious reader as a child, Diana recalled poetry about hillsides like this. Emerson, Dickinson, even Shakespeare…she doubted they could imagine a moment this perfect. Something this devoid of a past. 

The gunshot was, as one would guess, unwelcome. 

All she had on hand was a repeater, a simple thing, slung across her shoulder. It would have to do as she took aim for the origin of the shot, somewhere up on the hill. Sure enough, two bandits rode above, aiming lower than she expected. She turned, and realized; they were here for the sheep. 

With a blast, she narrowly missed the closer of the two, a large man on an even larger horse. 

“Shit,” she muttered, reloading. What was the point of learning to shoot if she didn’t live long enough to use her skills?

 She fired again. This time, the shot grazed the fat man’s arm, and he cried out in pain. His stallion shrieked and began bucking him off, with limited success. 

Before Diana could load again, Althea stood and reared, kicking her front legs wildly. A gunshot sounded from the ground, and before she could blink, Diana was in the air. The impact of her back on the hill knocked the wind out of her, and before she could even collect herself, the other bandit was upon her. 

It’s amazing how time slows down in the heat of the moment. Even with her death imminent, Diana could make out the green kerchief around his neck. Green eyes, a scraggly beard. She knew this man, or this type of man, anywhere. 

The Irish accent gave him away. An O’Driscoll. 

“Well, miss, think the boss man will reconsider-” 

His words were cut off by a snarl as Pluto tackled him, barking and growling up a storm. 

Good boy. Diana was free from the O’Driscoll’s grasp, but her gun was out of reach. She fumbled around for a revolver, to no success. Pluto was still laying into the skinny Irishman, but the big one had regained his senses and had started towards her again. She was outnumbered, and had no choice. 

She took a deep breath, and screamed. 

The sound of galloping filled the air. She was done for. 

She screamed again. 

“HELP ME!”

Two gunshots fired, calculated, separated. Pow! Pow! But the galloping didn’t stop. And the sound was getting closer by the millisecond. She began to scramble to her feet, pulling out her last resort - a small switchblade that Cripps had given her the day he taught her how to hunt. She flicked the blade open and readied her hand, turning to her assailant. She wondered who she’d face first - the big one or the skinny one. 

It was neither.

“Woah… miss calm down, I ain’t gonna hurt’cha,” the man said, putting his hands up as he hopped down from his horse. 

“Then drop your gun,” Diana said. It was all she could think of. 

He tossed it to the side without a thought, and inched closer. She held out her lance knife, just the way Cripps taught her to. Her face was fixed in a snarl. 

“Ma’am, I ain’t gonna-”

“Did you shoot them?”

“What?”

“Did you shoot them?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Why?”

“Well shit, I guess I was tryna save you, but if you’d rather be in a casket, who am I to judge?” he answered, slyly. He had a deep accent, a country one. She couldn’t place it. 

Diana faltered for a moment, then said;

“You didn’t have to save me.”

“Well, it sure didn’t look like you were gonna do it yourself,” he countered. 

She shot him a glare, readying a comeback, but instead? Instead she burst out laughing. 

“Well, yes,” she said, between breaths, “I guess you’re right.” after a pause, she added, 

“well? Is a lady going to have to help herself to her feet?”

The man started, and extended his hand down. She grabbed it, noting the sheer number and strength of the callouses coating it, and together the pair lifted Diana to her feet. For a very brief moment, Diana was chest to chest with the cowboy - well, head to chest, given that he stood nearly a head above her in height. Two parts of Diana burned - her cheeks with a blush, and her ring finger with shame and a grim reminder. The moment was over as soon as it began. 

“Ahem…uh, thank you, sir,” she started, and sighed. “You saved my life. I owe you something for that at least.”

“Now, I don’t need anything, I was just bein-”

“Well at least a meal or a drink is in order!”

The man started again. “Ma’am, really, I-”

Diana sighed. “Please, mister, it's the least I can do. Plus,” she began, nodding over a few yards west, “I need your help. Those bandits must’ve gotten one of the sheep - look.'' Sure enough, a mound of white wool lay in the grass, the only sheep that had been lost in the raid. 

“Help me get that poor soul back to Cripps, and you’ll be paid for your time.”

The man sighed, knowing he’d lost the exchange. “Fine,” he said, dejected. As the pair lifted the wayward sheep onto Althea, Diana spoke up once more. 

“Thank you mister…”

“Morgan,” he paused. It looked like he was trying to remember what his name was. “Arthur Morgan.”

“Thank you, mister Morgan,” Diana said, and turned. “PLUTO!” she whistled. “ROUND ‘EM UP!”

Arthur Morgan

Dutch had told them in no uncertain terms to lie low. Besides making money, lying low was the top priority. So the O’Driscoll’s over on the hill should not have been his concern, and they weren’t until the bloodcurdling scream Arthur had heard from the middle of the herd of sheep. He may be trying to keep a low profile, but he wasn’t about to let some innocent shepard get herself killed. He imagined there would be some divine retribution for that, or some symbolism - something in his surrogate fathers’ books that would have damned him. 

Now this same shepherd was leading him to some reward he felt he couldn’t accept. He had given his full name, his real name, to this woman, and he felt like he was 13 again. Breaking all the rules. He didn’t lie low, he didn’t mind his business, he didn’t keep himself a secret. And what would he have to show for it? 

The smell of the stew pot hit him before he could see it. 

“Sit down, mister Morgan, stay as long as you’d like,” the woman said, hanging her coat on a hook attached to a beautiful cherry tree. She had taken him behind what must be the trading post at Emerald Ranch - a small building bedecked with animal heads, hides and antlers. The camp spot was a cozy one, with the campfire and a great bronze stew pot as its centerpiece. 

“Mr. Cripps is still working on the stew - the rest of the ranch hands are still tending to the sheep and the cows, but you can have first bowl once he’s done. He’ll be out any second.”

“Ma’am, I really don’t need any fo-” Arthur’s stomach growled mid sentence. He flushed, and the woman turned, and gave a slight chuckle. 

“Riiight.”

“Well,” Arthur continued, taking a seat, “then thank you for your hospitality, Miss…”

She finished for him. 

“Missus Diana Wegner. My husband owns this ranch. Forgive me for being blunt, Mister Morgan, but are you new around these parts?” She stuck out her hand, boldly. With purpose. A silver ring adorned it. 

He took it, shook it, and responded. 

“Yeah, well, my crew and I were workers in the north, and our factory got shut down, so we’re living in a camp near uh… Valentine?” he recited the story Hosea had told him. It was, to the old man’s credit, a great cover. 

“I’m sorry to hear. Were you stuck up in the Grizzlies when that storm hit?”

Arthur chuckled, despite the memory being, at best, an unpleasant one. “Yeah, we just got out of it a few weeks ago. Lot of folk are still trying to get back on their feet,” he said. 

“Well its a good thing you made it down here,” Diana replied. “I take it you’re doing the hunting then?” she gestured to the pelt on the back of Ares. “How much shot did that thing take?”

Arthur chuckled. “Not as much as you’d think. Damn thing nearly killed me. Apparently it’s some legendary bear - uncommon size.”

“You’ve got that right. Do you know how much that would be worth?”

Arthur shifted, uncomfortable. It would be just his luck to get robbed by the woman he saved. 

“Not sure…”

“Well, me neither, but Mr. Cripps would have a field day tanning that thing. If you’d be interested in selling it here, I’m sure you could work out a deal.”

Arthur paused, wondering if this was a good chance to strike up some work - legitimate work, for once. 

“If Mister…”

“Cripps,”

“Right. If Mr. Cripps buys this, would he buy other skins too, or…”

“Looking for employment, are we? And I thought men were all after something else!” Diana exclaimed. Arthur’s face felt hotter than hell itself. He could only imagine the shade of red it turned. 

“Well, I- maybe,” he admitted. “I don’t know. As long as it pays.”

“That we do. In money, food, goods, or any combination.”

The backdoor of the store burst open, and an old man with a scraggly salt-and-pepper beard stepped out, holding a basket of herbs and corn. 

“And we have the best of all three!” he exclaimed, sauntering over to the pair. “I couldn’t help but overhear the entire conversation, and your hunting skills would make an excellent contribution to Cripps-Wegner Trading Co!”

Diana sighed, and gestured towards the man. “Mister Cripps, Arthur Morgan. Arthur Morgan, Mister Cripps.” Before she could finish, Cripps was shaking Arthur’s hand with an enthusiasm he had only seen a few times before - and most of those times involved Sean and Karen, back before Sean got captured.

Before she could make any more introductions, a bell sounded, and Diana’s head whipped towards the big green house across the road. 

“Shit,” she muttered. “That’s dinner bell.” she turned again to Arthur, and held out her hand. He took it, not knowing whether to shake it or not. Dutch had taught him to kiss a woman’s hand when they gave it this way, but the wedding ring gave him considerable pause. 

“Thank you, Arthur, again. I owe you more than I can describe. Enjoy the stew, and let Cripps know if you have any availability.” as she spoke, she transformed - she did up her hair, tossed her hat aside, washed her hands and changed into ladies shoes seemingly before Arthur could blink. She went from a rancher to a society lady in less than a minute. He hoped she didn’t notice his stare. 

“Come back to Emerald Ranch soon, mister Morgan. Our saloon is closed and it mostly smells of sheep shit, but I’m sure you’ll find something here to your liking.” she turned, and after a few steps, shouted over her shoulder. “Mister Cripps! Save that sheep hide. I have a plan for it.” And she was off. 

There was a pregnant silence between her departure and the voice of Mr. Cripps. 

“So, mister Morgan,” he began, “are you gonna continue to make googly eyes at Missus Wegner or are you going to have some mutton?”

[mischiefbuckley]

GIVE EVAN BUCKLEY A DAUGHTER PLEASE 😭

(also ABC I need some more Uncle Buck and Jee scenes)

[utopiajk101]

Surprise kiss!! 😘

Buddie💕

.

Commission info

Premades Commission

[911experience]

Me ranting about Eddie Diaz

[criminally-obsessed]

MADDIE: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? BUCK, whispering: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? JEE-YUN, whispering: Because I have little hands. BUCK: Because she has little hands.

[stevenrogered]

You said the F word.

[watchyourbuck]

No im not “grieving” Buddie, do you know how amazing it is to have queer/bisexual men representation in today’s media? Do you know how important it is for all of the community and the younger people watching this? This is a huge milestone and Buck’s sexuality is valid outside of any type of ship. Today we celebrate.