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porkchop-ao3 · 4 years

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 39)

Country Pursuits

Reader’s art dealer job has some unfortunate (but is it really unfortunate..? You’ll see) results. Arthur starts making plans. The bank job is looming on the horizon, y’all... Enjoy!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

The men were out doing the art dealer job. My art dealer job. I felt full of nervous energy, sitting by the campfire with my sketchbook and pencil, tapping the end of it against the page as I looked around for something to draw that'd take my mind off of it.

The day had been pretty uneventful until then. Arthur and I had returned to camp with a pair of pronghorns for Pearson and the gang, so nobody commented on the fact that we'd spent the evening away from camp. I thought that was a nice trade. Food for their silence. Not even Dutch had anything to say, only stopping to tell Arthur that he had been thinking of how to deal with Bronte, and that he'd need to talk to him once he, John and Lenny returned from stealing those paintings.

That was so long ago, it felt like. The boys had only been gone a couple of hours and realistically it was going to take a few with how far they'd be travelling to Valentine, then Emerald Ranch provided everything went correctly (Hosea had spoken to a friend of his over there, Seamus, who'd be taking the art off our hands). Even so, I was restless the entire time.

I focused my attention on Javier's guitar where it was leaning up against a barrel, and started drawing it. I sketched it to fill up a page, giving it plenty of detail in a bid to stretch out the process, have it consume more time before the boys got back. I could only pray that the job went well, considering I'd brought it to them. If anything went wrong, I wouldn't be able to stomach it.

"You, uh, you ever drawn me in that book o' yours?" The log I was sitting on shifted unsteadily as someone dropped in beside me. Micah. I froze for a moment, eyes going wide with shock.

Micah hadn't been particularly friendly with me as of late, given our quarrels and the whole Arthur kicking his front teeth in thing. He either didn't speak to me at all or he barked some order at me, got me to do something for him. A lot of which, I simply didn't do. I wanted to be useful, not a damn servant.

"Why, you gonna demand that I do so if I say no?" I asked, not taking my eyes from the guitar, carrying on sketching. Micah chuckled, and my throat itched from cigarette smoke as he exhaled it, not bothering to direct it away from me.

"Well, would be nice if you did. Show a little friendliness, make out like you might just be able to stand me," it was all spoken in jest. I finally looked at him.

"I stood you for a long time, remember? More than that, thought you were a decent feller if you tried."

"Well, I told you you was wrong, that this is just who I am."

"Yeah and I never believed you. Though, that was 'bout the only thing that came out of your mouth that's true, so I should've."

"You saying I'm a liar, princess?" He questioned and my mood withered further, eyelids lowering in irritation.

"I ain't gonna waste my breath asking you again, Micah. You know I don't like you calling me that," I deadpanned, and I heard him exhale a drawn out breath. "And lying might not be the right word for it. Twisting things, though, that you do plenty of."

"Still think I was going 'round trying to convince people I'd fucked you? That's all rather conceited of you, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. Not half as conceited as you thinking me showing you the barest of kindnesses means I must want you to kiss me," I quipped back, and there was a pause before he made an unconvincing chuckle.

"Whatever," he breathed, sucking on his cigarette hard enough to hollow his cheeks, the end glowing bright before ebbing again when he exhaled the smoke; once again in my direction. It made my eyes water.

"I don't wish to be unfriendly with you, Micah. I never was one for conflict."

"Then I guess you chose the wrong business, this ain't a life that comes free of conflict. That pretty gash in your neck's some pretty solid evidence of that," he muttered, gesturing to my throat.

Every time someone mentioned it, it burned.

"I can't argue with that. I guess I could be more clear; conflict with people that once upon a time I got along with, dare I say liked," I replied, snapping my sketchbook closed when I became too distracted to carry on.

"You liked me?" He smiled and spoke in a sickly tone that was completely condescending and not in the least bit pleasant or sincere. "First time I've ever been told that. Truly, I am touched."

"Maybe it'd happen more often if you didn't go 'round treating people like crap."

"I've never treated you like crap," he told me in all seriousness, brow forming a heavy line above his eyes. I cocked a brow at him and snorted.

"You ain't? How about dumping all your shit on me, telling me to wash this, fix that, I stood in horse shit, scrub my boots? And saying all those dirty things to Arthur right in front of me?" I provoked and he laughed, shaking his head. Anger fizzed up and over inside. "And telling me that all I'm worth is my unsullied body, and you only wanted to fuck me 'cause I'm a virgin?"

Micah's eyes snapped to me at that, and it was a fair bit of time before he responded.

"If I'd've buttered you up real good, would you have been up for it? If I whispered sweet nothings in your ear and called you beautiful and scattered rose petals on the bedroll? Would you have fucked me then?" He levelled his gaze to me, looking directly at me after flicking his spent cigarette away.

"No!"

"Then what's your problem? So what if that's all I wanted you for, if I weren't gonna get you anyway?"

"Well, I suppose you would look at it that way."

"What way do you look at it? Educate me."

"It just weren't nice having that spat at me like I was nothing, like I was completely useless to you since I weren't gonna give you what you wanted. Especially with how well we worked together, how we got along whenever you weren't in one of your moods."

"Well, I guess I figured I owed you the truth. Otherwise you'd be walking 'round thinking you'd hurt my feelings, feelin' guilty, and we can't have that," he shrugged and I rolled my eyes, looking away. "You got an attitude somewhere in you," he added at that. He was smirking.

I didn't respond, opening up my sketchbook again and flicking through it absentmindedly, opening it to a blank page.

"Well, you should know," he began, "I ain't got no hard feelings. It's pretty clear the ship has sailed, anyway."

"I'm sorry?" I questioned, looking at him.

"You think nobody notices when you walk in here with Morgan, acting like he ain't been pokin' you all night? The bags under your eyes are as tellin' as they are unflattering, my dear," his tone was low and dirty and I screwed my face up in distaste. "You ain't no virgin no more."

"Whatever," I hissed, though my face felt hot.

"Those marks on your neck, too, you didn't get those from that O'Driscoll's knife, did you, sugar plum? Likes doing that, does he? Marking what's his," he added, and I stared at him, mouth agape. He was unbearably audacious!

"I don't know. But he sure liked kicking your teeth in," I reminded him, narrowing my eyes. His lip curled up, revealing the gap in his teeth, and he wriggled his tongue between them crudely. I wrinkled my nose. "Just leave me alone," I eventually sighed.

His nasty little laugh petered off as he surprisingly did as he was told.

I must have dozed off at some point when I was supposed to be darning a pair of socks, leaned up against the large tree by the fire. I woke with a start when something tapped my arm; for a moment I was ready to receive a lecture from Miss Grimshaw for sleeping on the job, but instead a hand holding a bundle of cash was in front of my face. My eyes travelled up the arm it was attached to and settled on John.

"Here's your share, sleepy head. Get up before someone sees you, I know Hosea don't take kindly to people doing what you're doing," he advised me, and I took the cash from him, my brows raising.

"Wow, this is my cut? Just for setting it up? You must've got a lot."

"Yeah, we didn't do too badly at all," John nodded.

"Did it go okay?"

Amusement twisted his features.

"Yeah, went off without a hitch. We all rode off without having to fire a single bullet, no one was hurt on the job," he began, and I was about to voice my relief when he continued, "didn't stop Lenny from fucking his leg up somehow on the way back."

"What?" I balked, sitting up. John stepped aside and gestured to where Arthur was helping Lenny down off his horse. Well, dragging him off of it with control while Lenny clung to him, wincing at every jostle of his leg.

I bolted up and raced over there, John hot behind me.

"Lenny! What happened? Are you alright?" I asked uselessly holding my arms out towards him and Arthur in some vague attempt at offering to help. Arthur managed to get him on the ground, balancing on one foot.

"Sure," Lenny said, face frozen in a grimace, "don't worry, ain't nothing to worry about."

"The kid's horse threw him," Arthur informed me, mild amusement on his face too. Neither Arthur or John seemed too concerned, which brought me some relief.

I looked at the horse in question. Little, tiny Maggie.

"She threw you?" I murmured.

"She saw a snake and got spooked, that's all."

"Was pretty impressive, the way he landed on his feet," Arthur mused.

"Till he hit the floor, screaming bloody murder," John added and they both chuckled.

"Glad it's so amusing," Lenny sighed, looking nothing short of mortified.

"We just robbed a whole bunch of valuable artwork from a serious collector without a single problem, but you can't manage to ride home? Yeah, it's a little amusing. Don't worry, it don't look broken, you probably just sprained it," John said. Lenny shook his head, leaning heavily on both Arthur and John as they helped him towards the house. Arthur called Hosea over, who immediately joined us.

They set Lenny down on a chair inside, and Hosea kneeled down in front of him. He inspected the injured ankle, asking him about the pain; where it was, how bad it was, if he felt anything snap. Hosea seemed satisfied after some investigation that no bones were broken, but he needed to rest it. He sent me off to fetch some medical supplies, and when I returned he bandaged up the ankle firmly to support the joint, and Arthur gave Lenny some whiskey for the pain, patting him on the shoulder.

"Now, you just take it easy for a few days, keep your foot up. You keep moving around on it, you'll make it worse," Hosea explained, tying off the bandage before pushing up to his feet, leaning on Lenny's good knee for support as he did.

"What about the bank?" Lenny queried, and Hosea went quiet for a moment. Arthur and John looked to him for his response.

Bank?

"Well, I'm sure we can manage without you, son," Hosea started, and Lenny sighed and leaned his head back, face a picture of disappointment. "Hey, don't be like that. How irresponsible would it be of us to have you along on a bank job when you can barely walk?"

"I know," Lenny grumbled, "I just wanted to be along for that. Show you fellers I can do a good job."

"I trust you would. Don't worry, there'll be other opportunities, I'm sure."

"'cept Dutch keeps saying this'll be the last big score," John noted with a humourless chuckle. Hosea looked at him, unamused and with a certain look in his eye.

"Well, I ain't got much to say about that," Hosea replied, his tone abrupt. It was clear he believed as much as they did that their scores were numbered. "Anyway, you stay here, Lenny. Rest up. Can we bring you anything?"

"If I'm gonna be sat here on my ass for the foreseeable future, some books would be nice," Lenny snorted, slumping glumly in the chair as Hosea dragged over a crate and had him rest his foot on it.

"Books," Hosea repeated with a nod, "certainly."

With that, he headed off. John left too, with a parting sympathetic pat on Lenny's shoulder, leaving just the three of us behind. I immediately turned to Lenny, fiddling with my own fingers, chewing on my lip a moment before speaking. I felt Arthur's eyes on me the whole time.

"Lenny, I'm so sorry," I began, and Arthur laughed.

"I was waiting for that," Arthur said, and I frowned at him in confusion.

"Huh?" Lenny simply grunted, looking at me cluelessly.

"I'm sorry about your ankle, I was praying all day that none of you'd get hurt, but…"

Lenny looked at Arthur, a hint of a smile curling his lips.

"Is she for real?" Lenny shook his head and I flushed a little, feeling foolish. Was I missing something?

"Just tell her it's okay," Arthur put an arm around my waist and carefully began leading me away.

"You think this is your fault?" Lenny called to me, then laughed, "hey, don't worry about it. I forgive you for making Maggie throw me, I don't appreciate it, but at least you're sorry," he teased.

I stopped in my tracks and turned back to him, resisting Arthur's tugging.

"It was my job you got hurt on, that's what I meant. I mean, obviously, right?"

"Listen, somethin' I came to learn real quick. Shit happens. Sometimes it's somebody's fault, but most of the time? It's just shit," Lenny snickered, shaking his head and grinning at me.

"You're speaking to the lady who felt bad over killin' an O'Driscoll who was about to slit her throat, just let her say what she's gotta say," Arthur explained and I frowned deeper.

"Hey, don't tease me for having… morals and– and guilt. You were the one blaming yourself for that O'Driscoll ordeal just 'cause you didn't make me leave the gang, Arthur, so you're one to talk," I snapped.

"That was a whole different thing," Arthur frowned, going serious, "I still think about that, you know."

"Well, don't!"

"How long you two been married?" Lenny asked and we swivelled our heads to look at him, observing his mischievous grin. Hosea walked back in then, a bundle of books in his hands.

"Here you go, son. These were by your tent, but I can ask around, see if anyone can lend you something different?" He began, putting the books down next to his foot on the crate.

Arthur took the opportunity to lead me off again, with that marriage comment ringing in my ears I didn't try to resist. Oh, to be married to Arthur Morgan… I stopped myself before I got carried away.

He led me outside and we took a seat at the front of the house, on the edge of the fountain. He groaned as he sat down, sighing in exhaustion. He looked about as tired as I'd felt all day.

"You alright?" I asked. Arthur nodded, yawning. "Wow. I hope last night was worth it," I said light-heartedly, smirking.

"Oh, it definitely was. Much better than a restful night, princess," he chuckled. "That job went well, John give you your cut?"

I nodded. "It's a lot."

"Yeah, we did real well. I'll tell Dutch… I gotta speak to him at some point. Wants to talk about Angelo Bronte. Dutch is on about robbing a bank in town, so something's gotta be done about him; the man who seems to run the whole damn city."

"You're gonna rob a bank in the middle of the city?" I balked, eyes going wide and bile rising uneasily in my throat.

"Apparently. Hosea thinks we can do it, couple of the girls have been out scoping the place. Doesn't look too heavily guarded," he explained, though it didn't quell my fears at all.

"Yeah, but what about after? Fleeing through the city? It ain't like Valentine, where you run for thirty seconds and you're out on open plains," I exclaimed and Arthur shook his head, agreeing with me.

"It's a risk. I know. But Hosea says the place is full of cash and gold, so if we get away…" he trailed off, looked up towards the house. Hosea and Dutch were sitting up on the balcony above us, talking.

With a sigh, Arthur took my hand and led me away, over towards the edge of the water, out of earshot from any of the camp. I went along with him wearing a concerned frown. He turned to me, then, taking both of my hands and looking down at them.

"If we get away," he continued, not yet meeting my eye, "we should have a lot of money. Enough for the whole gang to get out."

I stared for a moment, wondering why he needed to tell me that in secret. "That's great, but–"

"Not only that, my cut… my cut would be big enough that – put together with what I have saved – you and I might just be able to– to– we could get away," he finally met my eyes at that. "You and me, princess. We could leave, we'd have enough to support ourselves. I could keep you safe."

My lips parted. I had to admit, that all sounded rather wonderful. A totally fresh start, far away from Dutch and the Pinkertons and the O'Driscolls… with Arthur. Just him and me. I must've started smiling a little because Arthur smiled too, pulled me into a hug.

"We could do it. We'd see that the others made it out alright; Charles, John, Mary-Beth, all those people you've grown close to. We'd have peace of mind and then we could leave, be done with all this getting shot at and knives held to our necks. Start leading a proper life," he whispered against the top of my head, swaying me from side to side in his arms.

"You gotta do the bank, first," I reminded him, "oh, please be careful, Arthur."

"I'm always as careful as I can be," he told me, then pulled back to look at me, "I want this. I'm so certain of that."

"Me too," I nodded, cupping his cheeks.

"All that's holding me back is not knowing what'll happen to these people. I want to make sure they're gonna be okay," he whispered and I nodded in understanding. "This bank could be it, princess."

"Arthur!" Dutch yelled across the camp. I looked over Arthur's shoulder to see him leaning over the edge of the balcony, waving him over. Arthur held a hand up in acknowledgement, then let out a soft breath.

"I'll see you later," he said, kissing my forehead and squeezing my hands. I watched him walk back to the house, a feeling in my stomach a bittersweet combination of hope and dread.

I awoke the next morning in my bedroll, laying on the floor of Arthur's room. I knew he'd be returning at some point in the night after heading out with Dutch, so I'd left his bed free. I had to smile to myself, then, when I felt his presence behind me, a hand softly resting on my hip.

The next thing I registered was the smell. Wet, stagnant, musky… unpleasant. I shifted, looking over my shoulder at Arthur to see him lying asleep in just his union suit. His clothes were in a pile nearby, and I realised they were the source of the smell; his jeans and shirt sodden with filthy water, his boots caked in mud. What on Earth had he been doing last night?

I laid back down, lacing my fingers with his on my hip, lifting his hand from me as I rolled to face him, replacing it on my other hip. Arthur woke up a moment later, either stirred by my movement or sensing my eyes on him. His eyes creased with a smile when he saw me, but before he could say anything, I couldn't help but ask;

"Have you been swimming around in the swamp?"

Arthur only paused for a moment before answering. "Yes."

I quirked a brow, utterly perplexed.

"Dutch had us helping out some feller with a boat, reckons he'll get us to Bronte's house so we won't have to go in through the city," he told me sleepily. He started to appear more alert until it all seemed to come back to him in a rush and his face shifted to urgency. "You should'a seen the goddamn alligator out there. Big as a damn bison, I swear."

I nodded in understanding. "Yeah, some big ones out there. You couldn't pay me to set foot in the water, and I grew up there, what on Earth were you doing out there?"

"It's a long story. Ended with me in the water saving some kid, almost had his leg torn off. This alligator… there's big, and then there's big,” he shook his head in disbelief.

I stared at him, a little bit horrified. "You were in the water with a bloodthirsty gator?"

"I still got all my fingers and toes, don't worry," he chuckled, but it quickly faded off, "this kid weren't so lucky. Well, everything's still attached, I just hope he don't get gangrene. Could be pretty bad…"

"Goodness. And where was Dutch during all of this? It was his thing, getting the boat, right?"

"He was in the boat, yelling, but otherwise being unhelpful," he said drily, moving to sit up with a groan. He stretched out his back and I watched the muscles work through the clingy material of his union suit, my head propped up with my arm. "Still, I reckon he was shittin' himself. Course he weren't getting in to help."

"Course," I tutted. "I'm so glad nothing happened to you. Gators, they can be real vicious."

"You're telling me," he snorted.

"When I was a kid, my closest neighbour's son met his end that way," I started, Arthur looking to me with widened eyes, "was out there fishing, waded in too deep and didn't see this big guy in the water."

"Shit…"

"Yeah… all I know is, his dad started firing his gun at the gator, but ended up aiming at his son just to– well, it was the kindest thing to do, apparently," I murmured solemnly.

"Jesus. This ain't filling me with confidence about getting back in that boat, heading out into the swamps again tonight," Arthur breathed, shaking his head.

"Just make sure everyone keeps their limbs inside the boat this time. You'll be fine," I offered him my most comforting smile.

"Noted. I don't particularly feel like watching someone get torn limb from limb by some dinosaur-looking bastard," he sighed. "Anyway, I best get dressed."

"Me too. And I'll wash those nasty clothes of yours. They stink," I laughed, sitting up and reaching for my suitcase, pulling it over to me and retrieving my corset.

"They do? I'm sorry. I can't smell it, must be used to it. Either that or I stink too," he snorted.

I leaned over and sniffed him, amusement worming its way onto my face. I held my thumb and index finger an inch or so apart and gave him a sheepish smirk. He dropped the clean shirt he was about to put on before nodding.

"I'll wash up first."

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #atink #arthur morgan x female reader #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

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missblissy · 5 years

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Title: Homeless at Home Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: fanfiction, chapters, angst, reader insert, fluff, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, pre-game Characters: Young!Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Mathews, Arthur Morgan/ Reader, Female reader, Arthur x Reader, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur/ You, Young!reader Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine

Follow me on AO3!! Read it there too!

((Hello again everyone!! Thank you all so so so so much for all the support that you've given this fic!! Do not worry!! I am NOT DEAD!! I've just been busy with finals and college and stuff!! Please show the fic some love by leaving a kudos or commenting! I'd love to hear what you all have to say!!

I made a playlist on Spotify for Homeless at Home! Follow it to dive deeper into the world of the Gang and Reader!!

Lastly, everyone gets ready, because these next few chapters are leading up to something big!!))

Description:

The inside of the house was dark and smelled like a mixture of smoke and wet dirt. As you ran through the empty kitchen in the back of the house, up front were a dining room and living room came together in the foyer, where Arthur was laying on the floor at the foot of the old staircase. He had his gun in both hands pointed up to a figure halfway down the stairs.

It was an old man, he had his hands up in defense and fear was on his face that was taken over by an unkempt beard peppered with silver hairs that stuck out against his faded brown ones. Fear was on his face, “I-I-I didn’t mean!” The old man let out a yelp when Dutch pulled his gun out too, pointing it at the homeless man, “I’m sorry! I’m real sorry- please don’t kill me! I’m just a useless old man! I’ve been squatting here all summer waiting for the law to kick me out again!!” He looked like he was ready to piss himself.

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The sky was cloudy and the wind was strong, chilly, and cold enough to annoy you. Not that you weren’t already annoyed. Your legs and back had been hurting since the moment you had gotten on Callus. He was still a large horse and you were still small. That was a week ago. Callus was a tame animal, after all, he was a bit jumpy and easily agitated, but you could change that with trust and bonding, or so you were told. Nobody told you that riding a horse would be painful though.

Although it was hard to ignore, you did your best to shut out the sore throbbing pain that came from your lower back and legs. You carried on, doing your best to ride behind Arthur who was riding behind Dutch. The three of you were going somewhere very important and Arthur said this would be a good chance to bring you along for once. He argued that you needed to get out of camp more often and Dutch took the bait.

Almost an hour later and you were nearly at the end of this long ride. Your destination was close, that’s what Dutch said at least. Something awful has happened within the last few days. Hosea had gone missing. No one has seen him in four days, and this was not normal. You checked in town, in the jail, in the saloon. You found no sign of him until Arthur had went to Bessie’s stables and found David. He said she was home, and he saw Hosea giving her a ride on a wagon a few nights ago. He said he might have taken her home. So the best lead was Bessie’s own house, deep in Paradise Valley. She owned a large ranch miles away from Sugartown.

It was hard to believe she would take this ride to sell horses in town when she could have done it off her property. You laid eyes on a large horse ranch, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen. You could fit the whole town on this plot of land. Dutch, Arthur, and yourself were at a stop before the large gateway that welcomed you to Bessie’s fabulous home. Not a single one of you had any idea she stemmed from such a… wealthy family.

The place seemed almost totally abandoned aside from the horses who grazed away in their fenced in pastures. It was nearly noon as you rode towards the house. Dutch took the lead, a hand always ready to grab his pistol. Arthur, however, was relaxed and making fun of Dutch’s paranoia. Dutch was only like that because you were there, you knew that Arthur knew that. Even Dutch knew that. The only reason why you weren’t as nervous as Dutch was because Arthur made a valid point earlier, Bessie was a friend, not a foe. It was clear she liked you, Dutch and Arthur. She hadn’t meet Annabelle or Susan yet but that was also because Hosea kept her at a distance from the gang. Dutch did the same with Annabelle, which is why no one was bothered at his hesitation.

Just as you had gotten near the house someone started rustling away behind a door as they jimmied it open. Dutch’s hand inched closer to his side where his guns rested in their holsters. The door swung open and out came a man you didn’t know. He was tall and skinny with big sunk in eyes, “Can I help you?” At least he was friendly and not threatening you to get off his land.

Dutch cleared his throat and gave a small wave, “I am so sorry, sir,” he started off. You could hear the showmen inside him come to life, “I’m looking for a friend of mine. I was told he was last spotted here. Maybe you’ve seen him? Tall, blonde hair? Blue eyes? Pointy nose like a rat?” You saw Arthur nearly burst into laughter. He snorted through before he brought his fist to his mouth and dug his teeth into a knuckle.

“Name’s Hosea?”

“Yes!” All three of you spoke at once, surprised and delighted to hear his name. Dutch spoke once more, “Have you seen him? Is he here?”

“Yep, he’s here.” The man headed back inside.

Well this was a nice and safe journey across the county. No guns. No shooting. No nothing! Now it was time to get Hosea and go home, right? Dutch needed help moving camp because winter was going to set in soon, but you didn’t have very many options to run to. There was a desert south, but it was barren and not livable, and Colm O’driscoll was down south. Which Dutch didn’t want to run the chances of crossing. You could head north but that would make things colder. East wasn’t an option. Neither was west. Dutch was extremely tempted to stay the winter in Paradise Valley, simply because the winters were mild here. However, Hosea was more familiar with this area and knew more people.

The door opened again and out came Hosea. He looked… not good. He seemed tired, his hair was messy and his eyes were dark. He was paler than normal as well. He looked like he hadn’t slept since he left camp. Dutch rushed to slide off his horse and took no time asking, “What has happened to you? Where have you been?” Here, clearly, but why?

Hosea started to shake his head and stayed on the large front porch, “I’m sorry Dutch- I.. didn’t mean to get caught up here for so long.”

“What’s going on here?” Dutch asked. You and Arthur had gotten off your mounts as well and followed Dutch up the steps. You stood on the first step while Arthur took the second.

There was a moment of silence as Hosea opened his mouth for a second then closed it. He then sighed and said, “Bessie’s father died,” He spoke quietly, “She… It’s very complicated,”

At some point Dutch had pulled out a cigarette, he lit it with a flick of a match along the side of the little box hidden in his palm. As he dragged in the nicotine he nodded, “As all things are, I’m sure.”

They seemed to have some kind of silent understanding for a moment before Hosea wrung his hands, “Yes, so,” He took a breath, “I’ve been helping Bessie and her sisters with the ah-.. the financial stuff,”

Dutch nodded his head as he steamed out a cloud of smoke, humming, “Mhm, sure,”

“And the legal stuff too. You know, who gets what, what goes where. It’s just he died, um- last night.”

“Oh, he did now?” Dutch raised his brow, not nearly as surprised as he let on, “Maybe that’s why you look like shit?”

Laughter mingled between them and Hosea shook a finger, “I couldn’t have said it better. It was real bad. We brought the doctor from town. Don’t even know what killed him. He just got very sick, lots of vomit, blood, couldn’t eat or sleep. He withered away, really.”

“Awful thing, that’s just awful. I’m sorry to hear that, Hosea, I am,” Dutch paused and this is when you knew the conversation was about to shift, “But we need ya back at camp. I get that this is not a good time but we have to get moving soon, you know that as good as I do.”

“I know Dutch- I know. I’m working on it, I’ve got a place that… Maybe might work for now, it’s actually not far from here,” It was almost as if the world knew he was talking about it. A cold breeze pushed right through the ranch with a heavy gust of mountain air falling from the sky above. Hosea shivered slightly and wrapped his arms together, crossed in front of his chest, “There’s an old house a few miles from here, much deeper in the valley,” He said, “It’s been eaten up by the forest and it’s been abandon for a good few years. I’ve seen it myself, it’s a good spot for now.”

There was a shared moment of silence as another breeze passed through, making a hollow windy sound in your ears as you watched Dutch flick away the dead end of his cigarette, “Alright,” There was a small flare in his attitude, like he was a spoiled child, “Are you coming with us?” He asked.

When Hosea shook his head slowly, you could see a look on Dutch’s face that let you knew every emotion he felt in those five seconds it lasted. Hosea saw it too and he wasn’t quick to rush to his own defense. There was a power struggle here that you or anyone in the world could see. “I can’t,” Hosea finally said, “I… I gotta stay here. Just a few more days, Dutch,” When Dutch didn’t say anything Hosea rambled on, but in a quieter tone as to not let anyone else hear his words but the other outlaw. You couldn’t make out the whispers but whatever Hosea said it must have worked.

“I understand,” Dutch backed away with a nod of his head, “I do, I know what you mean, it’s a terrible time for all of us. I swear it’s the weather, something about the cold makes us all cold-hearted bustards and brings about these dreadful times.”

“Exactly,” They started walking towards the steps, you and Arthur moved out of the way. Hosea turned to Dutch and shook his hand once, firm and formal, and gave him a nod of his head, “I’ll be here if you need me, but I don’t plan on staying forever,” He laughed a little shrill chuckle that sounded tired and strained.

“We know. If you aren’t back in a few days I’ll send Arthur to come in and check in on you. Right, boy?” Dutch had this cheeky flashy grin on his face as he passed the lanky cowboy. Arthur rolled his eyes and was sure to walk off a bit to avoid any teasing Dutch had in store for him, “Come on kids, we got a house to look at.”

As you watched Dutch and Arthur head back to the horses, you looked to Hosea who was standing there with a small smile. You wanted to speak with him, asking him if he was okay and why he had to stay here, but someone came to the front door and pushed it open half way.

His head barely poked out but you could make out who it was. Your eyes locked for a solid ten seconds as he gazed around the front porch. The doctor from town, the one you got the books from, stood in the doorway of Bessie’s house. You felt a wave of anxiety rush over you. Hosea had noticed the doctor too.

He gave you a little wave of his hand back and forth, “I’ll see you around, (Y/n). Don’t worry about nothing, alright?” He disappeared into the house after that.

Your heart was beating faster than a birds wings while trapped in a cage. The doctor was staring at you from around the front door where he still had his head stuck out. You met his gaze and when you did you felt nauseous. His face was blank and his glasses made it hard to see his eyes, for several seconds he stayed there before dipping behind the door and retreated back into the house. He heard your name. Your real name, not the fake one you gave him.

How much did he already know about you? How much of the truth had Hosea unintentionally tell him? Did he know who you were? About your parents? Worry started to sway back and forth in your mind like a bucket overfilled with water. Each splash and wave was like another thought that said something wasn’t right. Should you tell Dutch? Or maybe Arthur? Who knew what that doctor could do. You tried not to think about it as you returned to Callus.

The mustang seemed happy to see you at least. He brushed the side of his head against you as you walked by and let out a little chirp as you struggled to get in your saddle. He was a tall horse and you needed to jump to get up on his back.

Arthur and Dutch chattered away while you headed to this house that Hosea spoke about. You, on the other hand, had kept to yourself, focused on your thoughts. Arthur’s advice on ignoring the prying thoughts of your mother had been going pretty smoothly over the past couple weeks since your birthday, but seeing the doctor opened the flood gates again. For the most part, you thought about your mother’s family, the family you had that was still alive. What were they doing now, and what did they think about you?

The ride to the house felt a lot shorter in contrast to your daydreaming. Dutch had managed to find it by following an overgrown path into the forest. It was in better condition than anyone would have planned. It looked livable aside from all the plant overgrowth. It was a two-story house with white paint chipping away, and looked like it was big enough to fit a large family, which is exactly what you needed. At some point, Arthur had wandered inside while you and Dutch had taken a look behind the house. You found a shitty looking barn only a few feet away from tipping over, but it’d have to do. It was good enough to keep the horses in overnight, someone could camp out there and keep watch while keeping the horses' company.

Suddenly a loud bang came from the second floor of the house, followed by what sounded like rocks tumbling downstairs then someone yelling. You and Dutch looked at each other for a second before heading into the house through the back door.

While Dutch kept his sights locked on the stranger, you went over to Arthur and started dusting off the dirt that had gotten on his back as he sat up from the floor. As he groaned and got to his feet, Arthur’s low voice asked, “What the hell is your name, you old bastard?”

“Don’t got one,” He stayed still in his spot on the stairs. You could see his hands shaking slightly, “They call me, Uncle,” What a strange man. He smelled like whiskey, his hair was on the verge of turning from a light brown to snowy white. He had to be in his 50s at least. He swallowed a lump in his throat and spoke a little softer, “You ain’t the new owners… are ya? C-cause if so y-you- you wouldn’t happen to… keep this from the law?” What a pathetic man.

When Arthur finally stood tall again he snarled out, “I ‘aught to fucking kill you for kicking me down the fucking stairs! Hell no, we ain’t the god damn owners!” He pointed his finger and shook it with each word. You’d never seen Arthur get so angry so fast. He spun away and walked away from Uncle and head towards the front door that was still ajar.

“I said I was sorry! You should know better than sneaking up on an old man-” You stared at Uncle with wide eyes trying to mentally tell him to shut the hell up before he said the wrong thing.

Arthur stopped on his snotty little march out the door and looked back at Uncle. There was a moment of silence where everyone stared up at the old man and he looked back at every one of you. Before he turned away again, Arthur shook his head and cursed under his breath while saying, “Dutch do something with this old bag of shit, you’re the businessman,” He left after that.

Dutch on the other hand ran his hand over his mustache a few times while walking directly into the foyer. Uncle had come down a few steps too, but he was still sure to stay clear of Dutch just like he did with Arthur. Funny, because Dutch was the one he should be the most afraid of, you thought to yourself.

“Well,” Dutch started, and took a long pause as he did this thing where he rubbed his chin then crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave Uh… Uncle. You see we might not be the new owners, but… ah… We need this house more than you do.”

Surprise oddly washed across his face, “You ain’t gonna kill me?” Uncle asked.

“Not yet,” Dutch retorted, “No, not yet.”

“You’re just gonna… Kick me out? I was here first!”

“And I got a gun,” Dutch’s voice was smooth and low and calm. He stood in front of you now, while you looked around him and watched Uncle. Laughter twisted around in Dutch’s chest for a second, “Now get out,” He smiled.

Uncle stood there for a second or two while he took in this new reality that just slapped him, “Wh-.. what? You can’t do this to me!” He pleaded, “I… You’re doing me worse than death by sending me out there!” Out where? Outside the house? “Please! Mister! I’ll… I’ll pay! I’ll work! I got money! Please let me stay!”

Money changed the name of this game and Dutch was already bending the rules, “Money?” He tipped his head to the side slightly, “How much money?”

Uncle was frazzled enough already. He brought his hands up and shook them around as he spoke, “It’s in a safe!” he started, paused and licked his lips, “In the basement!” There was a basement?

But Dutch wasn’t as stupid as Uncle wanted to think he was, “Did you put the money in the safe?”

Uncle’s face dropped, “N-no… B-but… I found it! It’s mine!”

Dutch’s laugh came from a dark place, it was loud and sounded like a cackle, “It’s mine now!” His smile flashed on his face and he bent over as he laughed, “Woah! You are something special old man! Tell you what,” Dutch took a finger and ran it under his eye to clear away the single tear he gained, “You got till I come back with the rest of my friends then you gotta clear it from here, ya understand?” Dutch then turned on his heel and headed for the door. He didn’t even give Uncle the chance to say anything in reply because he yelled out, “Arthur! Get over here!”

Like the little lap dog he was, he came running over, “Yeah?” He stayed put on the steps of the front porch.

Dutch walked up to him and said, “You stay put here with, (Y/n), I’m gonna head back and gather up the ladies and bring them here. Make sure no one else finds their way back here alive,” As he walked past Arthur he clasped his shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. And that was it, Dutch mounted his stallion and was off into the forest and gone from sight.

You walked outside and met up with Arthur as he sat down on the front steps. You stood to the side of him and peered back into the house. Uncle was gone, but not really, he must have disappeared back inside. You felt bad for him. He clearly was alone in this world and didn’t have anyone else but himself. He seemed lonely, sad, and well… easy to pity. Maybe you should let him stay?

“It’s a nice house,” Arthur’s voice broke through your thoughts, “Two bedrooms downstairs,” he was staring at the overgrown path that led to the road and out of the forest, “Two bedrooms upstairs too.”

“Well that’s good,” You decided to sit down next to him, “It’s nice that there is some furniture too,” You noticed bits here and there when you were inside. There was a table with some chairs, a couple of couches, and the kitchen had a stove. There were fireplaces scattered around too. It was a really nice find for you guys.

The two of you chatted back and forth. You talked about the rooms you wanted, the warmth you’d have for winter, and how it sucked being nearly two hours away from Sugartown. Arthur made plans to explore the area, see if there were any closer towns or trading posts. As you talked, the sky grew darker and darker with thick grey clouds forming overhead while thunder echoed from far away. Every so often it’d get closer and the wind would get stronger. Soon enough the weather drove you and Arthur inside the house. You both decided to hide in there and wait it out until Dutch returned with the rest of your things and the others.

As you stared out the window you watched the storm outside pick up as a mixture of rain and ice started to fall. It got incredibly cold within a matter of minutes. Arthur started a fire in the living room fireplace in the background of your thoughts while you focused on the chaos outside. The storm felt alive and you felt as if you were apart of it. It came without a sound then screamed when it finally got here. You knew there wasn’t a chance Dutch would be back tonight, so you got comfortable with the new house and waited out the weather. ______________________________________________________________

The winter came much faster than anyone expected. About two weeks later and the world turned into a snowy escape. There was always a thin sheet of snow covering everything while the sun slowly melted it away. Most days were clear and cold, but most nights were colder and filled with snowfall.

While everyone made themselves at home, you took claim to one of the bedrooms on the first floor, Arthur took the other. Surprisingly, Dutch didn’t kick Uncle out after all, but he did kick him out of his room. The old man was left to sleep in the living room on the couch while Dutch and Annabelle took his room, and Susan took the other one upstairs. The sad part about all this was that Hosea had still not returned from Bessie’s Ranch. He visited, once, when you first got here, but you haven’t seen much of him since then.

Dutch had finally had enough of waiting around for Hosea and had left some time ago to go find him. You stayed behind because you enjoyed the warmth the house provided. However, this meant you had chores to do instead. Since Hosea wasn’t around to hunt, Susan had taken up the task, and every morning that she would come back with something, it was your job to cut and clean it. Today she brought back a small and sad looking turkey. She wasn’t the world’s best hunter, but she was all you had.

You sat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and by the windows. You could peer out the icy glass and to the backyard. As you plucked feather after feather, you watched Arthur stand watch by the front doors of the barn, standing over a little fire with his hands close to the tips of the flames. Each time he breathed a little cloud fluttered away in the wind. In the background, you could hear Annabelle and Susan quietly chat about Dutch. You listened to bits and pieces of their words.

“He’s been gone a while now,” Annabelle muttered with a slight attitude, “It’s almost noon. How long does it take to get someone?”

Susan let out some sort of sigh or sneer, it sounded like both, “Girlie,” She started and you looked up to see her pointing a finger at Annabelle, “You need to focus on cutting those potatoes and less on Dutch. He’s fine.” No one knew that for sure but that’s just what was said anytime someone went missing these days. They're fine. They're missing but they are fine and dandy

“Do you think Hosea will come back?” Annabelle’s questions never seemed to end. She was a strong-willed woman and she fought Susan’s bitterness with an air of politeness. She really was such a kind-hearted woman with a spirit of gold.

Again, Susan let out a sound of annoyance and shrugged while shaking her head, “Who knows. He’s found a real lady with a lot of money. He might run east with her if he gets the chance.” There was no way Hosea would do that, you knew he’d never leave the gang.

“You think?” Annabelle picked up a small pile of chopped potatoes and poured them into a boiling pot of water on the kitchen’s old fashion stove, “He doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.”

“Ha!” Susan laughed, she hummed for a second then said, “You don’t know Hosea, then,” You made sure to listen in on her next words, curious to learn Susan’s true impression of the silver-tongued outlaw, “He’s a slimy, evil little goblin who chases after the high of getting rich. He wants money. Nothing else.” That didn’t sound like Hosea at all. The Hosea you knew was kind and gentle and silent. He was a powerful mastermind and a genius at tricking people to give him their money, but he wasn’t a… a gold digger. There was no way on earth he was. What about all the times he spent patiently teaching you to aim a gun? To walk quiet enough to sneak up on a rabbit? What about all the crime novels you’d read together every weekend and gush about? He wouldn’t just… leave… would he? Did the gang mean anything to him? It meant the world to Arthur, this was his home, it was the growing pride of Dutch’s fruits of labor.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps outside on the front porch creaked out. You looked out the window and noticed Arthur wasn’t at the barn anymore. In a matter of seconds, Dutch was standing in the archway of the kitchen with an awful look on his face. Arthur was standing right behind him, peering into the room and sharing a glance with you.

“Well?” Susan asked, “Where is he?”

Dutch shook his head and ventured into the kitchen. As he walked past you he placed a hand on your head and ruffled your hair. He took the seat at the other end of the table while Arthur took his spot in the archway. After what felt like hours, Dutch leaned back in his chair and placed his hands together on his chest, “He’s gone.”

While Susan had a look of almost pride for calling it, Annabelle seemed shocked and so did Arthur, “What?” Annabelle left her potato cutting duty and stared in disbelief, “Where did he go?”

You had also stopped plucking the turkey and left it abandoned on the table, “He’s gone? Like.. he ran away?” You asked slowly while trying to believe it, Hosea actually left?

He waved his hand then shook his head, “I don’t know,” Dutch said, “I went there and the ranch was sold. I spoke to the new owners, some… real fat city folk from the east coast. Pigs,” He spit on the floor, had something gone down between them and Dutch? “Bessie was gone, her sisters sold the ranch and split. They said two daughters headed south to Texas, and the last daughter went west toward California. I’m guessing that was Hosea and Bessie,” Dutch paused as he sat up some more, straight and formal, his voice was low and carried an anger to it that you didn’t understand, “Said they left nearly a week ago,” Silence filled the room aside from the soft bubbles of the boiling pot of potatoes. Out of nowhere Dutch slammed his fist down into the table so hard that it scared the shit out of everyone, “A Goddamn week ago!” He shouted.

No one spoke after that. You all stayed in your place while silently mourning over the loss of Hosea and the betrayal that he left behind. You glanced at everyone in the room.

Annabelle and Susan stood still and startled by Dutch’s outburst. Uncle had managed to peek his head into the kitchen from behind Arthur who had a confused expression on his face. It didn’t make sense… It just didn’t add up. Why would Hosea leave? Did he really not care about the gang and was he really just a money hungry monster?

Something told you it wasn’t that, it was something else, something Hosea never mentioned or talked about. But really everyone knew what it was… It was Bessie... And Hosea’s profound and obvious love for her

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