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unofferable-fic · 5 years

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The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 4 - Conversing, For Beginners

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they’ve made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

Originally found here

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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, some fluff.

Word Count: 4,065

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Playlist: Further Away” — Ben Howard, “Morning” — Gustavo Santaolalla, “The Fine Art of Conversation” — Woody Jackson

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A/N: Also available on AO3. Chapter four comin’ at y’all.

Arthur had thought the bank robbery would go smoothly, so the drastic turn of events that occurred was an unwelcome one. They adapted — as they always did — but two close calls with Dutch and Maebh were not something he would ever feel ready to comprehend if the worst comes to worst. The former had merely been lucky in his escape with the arrival of a random passerby and he dreaded to think what might have taken place had the Reverend not been present. And Maebh, well… The second she fell behind and her horse lost its life, William had turned his own mount right around. It was only by the young man’s insistence that Arthur and Dutch didn’t try to assist. Instead, they waited until the siblings reappeared over the hill from a short distance away — only then did they lose the lawmen and make the journey back to camp.

Maebh looked shaken up, and Arthur couldn’t blame her. By the looks of the blood covering her fancy clothes, it had been an eventful rescue. Upon returning to camp, William was quick to help her off the horse she’d escaped on. Dutch had already called for Mrs Matthews and Miss Grimshaw to come and see that the girl was alright, but her brother looked like he would just about murder anyone who put a hand on her. It was only when he and Arthur had carried her to their tent that the latter felt the need to step in.

“You need to take a minute,” Arthur instructed him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. He eased the younger man back a bit, closer to Hosea and John who looked on from a polite distance. “Grab a beer or somethin’.”

William stared at her while she sat on her bedroll with some effort and the two ladies began to look her over for any injuries. “How the hell can I have a beer when there might be somethin’ wrong with her?”

“What happened back there?” Hosea asked in concern. Even John looked a bit worried.

“The law nearly caught her but I shot the fucker before he could take her in. Shot her damn horse though, so she went flyin’.”

Hosea nodded, some of the worry in his expression fading away. “I know it might sound insensitive, but that’s good in the grand scheme of things. Better to fall off a horse than be shot.”

“You saved her, kid,” Arthur added. “Give yourself a bit of credit.”

“And a break.” Hosea turned and took a seat at one of the camp tables. “John, would’ja fetch us some beers? I think the kid needs it. If she needs you, William, she’ll call.”

John went to fetch some drinks, albeit it with a slightly disgruntled expression, and Arthur and William took a seat around the table. Arthur watched curiously as the kid practically refused to take his eyes off his sister in the caring hands of the camp’s two finest matriarchs. He only looked away when Bessie fetched a hot bucket of water and closed the tent off to the outside world. Soon after, John returned and handed each man their own bottle. Arthur cracked his open immediately, enjoying the taste as the cool liquid slid down his throat. After reassuring William that his sister would be alright, they descended into casual conversation, Hosea smartly steering it so that William had to speak and take his mind off things. They discussed the successful aspects of the bank robbery, including the size of the take and what they planned to do with their individual shares. Not only that, but they pondered what would be done with regards funds and the locals who might need it.

In the midst of all this, Dutch came over and briefly joined in the chatter, his jaw now swollen on one side and throbbing red. “A job well done, gentlemen. A damn fine job. It was a tough one, but we adapted just fine as always. Seems like we’re just too slippery for the lawmen in this state.”

“We certainly did alright given the circumstances,” Hosea agreed, and offered Dutch a match as he whipped out a fat cigar. “How’s that bump?”

“Could’a done without it but I’ll live.” He took a drag before turning his attention to young William. “More importantly, how’s your sister doin’, son?”

William shrugged and scratched at the short hair on the back of his neck. “She wasn’t shot at least. Mrs Matthews and Miss Grimshaw are with her now.”

“Well then she’s in the best hands we got. I’ll go pay her a visit and have any formal celebrations rescheduled to suit with whatever recovery time she needs. In the meantime, I’m proud of how strong you’ve been, William — she’s lucky to have a strong lad like you for a brother. God knows where she’s be now if you it wasn’t for your protection.”

William gave the man a nod in thanks as he left them to it, approaching the tent not far across camp. Hosea and John also headed off a little while after that, joining the others around the campfire. Arthur remained, noting how William made no move to go elsewhere.

“She’ll be fine,” he said, glancing at him from beneath the brim of his hat. “She already survived gettin’ thrown off a horse once.”

William shook his head bitterly. “I know. I know it could’ve been a lot worse like Hosea was sayin’, but it…” He hesitated before meeting the older man’s gaze. “It was a close one. It wasn’t the horse that had me worried.”

Arthur nodded in reply. “I understand. Well, I ain’t got a brother or sister myself, but I guess that that bond is pretty strong. Heck, the Callander boys are lunatics but even they got each other’s backs through the thick of it.”

“She’s all I got…” He paused, finally letting his eyes rest on his companion with a sense of finality. “I know this gang has been good to us, and we do see you lot as family to a degree, but she’s…”

When the two siblings first joined that gang, William was definitely the more standoffish and reserved of the two. It took a long time before he opened up to any degree — he was always distant, always stiff in his stance with his arms folded across his broad chest. Arthur always thought that his eyes focused not only on you, but through you, picking away at every little detail and ill thought you held in your heart. He was like a wild dog, always ready to savagely sink his teeth into your hand if you got too close. His trust had to be earned, and it had taken Mr Morgan a long time to get what little he had. But, once you had it, it was a valued asset; something to be cherished like a priceless gem. His loyalty seemed unbreakable, and just looking at the way he and Maebh were together was evidence enough of that.

“She’s important to you,” Arthur finished, then took a swig of his drink. “I get it, kid. Y’know, I’ve been in this gang for most of my life. It’s the only family I got and I’ve always seen little Johnny Marston as my brother. We might not be blood, but it still counts for somethin’.”

William nodded in agreement. “You can see that this gang is a family for those who’ve been in it for a while.”

“You’ll get there too someday; just takes time. But she’s your sister. That kinda bond is special, so you hold on to it.”

“I’m tryin’ my best to do just that.”

Arthur huffed out a snort at that. “You guard that girl with an intensity I rarely see. I fear for the man she marries.”

“Jaysus,” William sighed with an amused expression. “As long as she doesn’t marry one like Marston I won’t have’ta kill him.”

He chuckled at the notion. “Naw, Maebh ain’t dumb enough to end up with someone like him.”

As the pair shared a laugh at John’s expense, Uncle came trotting over, a beer firmly held in his grasp. “Are you two anti-socialites gonna join us ’round the fire, or what? We’re tryin’ to learn more ’bout this reverend feller.”

Arthur played dumb. “What for, old man?”

“I am tryin’ to be kind here, Arthur,” Uncle scolded him in offence. “And acknowledge a job well done on the bank! No need for your usual sour sarcasm.”

Arthur looked to William before replying, but decided to oblige after seeing no negativity in his demeanour. Though the young lad did throw a glance at his tent before following them and joining the others for a somewhat civilised drink. It was awhile later when Miss Grimshaw and Mrs Matthews reappeared with Maebh in tow. Though she was walking with a visible limp, the ladies had helped her wash all the blood and dirt off her face and got her into a fresh set of clothes. Upon seeing his sister gingerly making an entrance, William sprang up despite having consumed a few bottles in the time he’d spent with the others.

“An bhfuil tú ceart go leor?” he immediately asked in their native language — of which Arthur had yet to understand a damn word. But, judging by the kid’s gentle placement of his hands on her shoulders and the look of concern in his eyes, he could gather what he was asking.

Maebh hushed him, insistence evident in her tone, though she was smiling up at him regardless. “Tá, fan bog!”

“You nearly gave the boy a heart attack,” Hosea jested from his seat. “Perhaps you ladies should check him over now, just to be safe.”

Dutch raised his drink to her. “We’re glad you made it outta there with barely a scratch, Miss Hennigan! A true testament to your abilities.”

“Or my luck,” she replied with a shrug. “I don’t think I can take all the credit for this one.”

“Beat me to the punch,” John muttered before handing her a bottle of whiskey. “You gotta play catch up now.”

“It would be wise to take your time,” Miss Grimshaw cut in, giving Marston a look that could kill. “Don’t drink at the pace those morons already set.”

“I won’t, Miss Grimshaw. I’m still a bit sore though, so drinkin’ at a reasonable pace is the plan.”

The group cheered to that one, raising their bottles to a job well done and safe return home.

* * *

26th August, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa

Despite the fact we had two close calls at the bank, our luck held out and everyone made it out alive. While Dutch ended up with a swollen jaw, Maebh was the one who was ordered to have some bed rest. Thankfully she seems well enough now. She was nearly captured during the escape, but William insisted on going back to save her. The passion with which he protects his sister will always astound me. Maybe it’s because I didn’t really grow up with a sibling, but I’m a little jealous of their strong bond… Regardless, I can look at my own relationships within the gang to try and understand, especially my one with John. He was always like a little brother to me, even if he can grate me sometimes… Alright, maybe more than ‘sometimes’.

The pair of Irish orphans are something else though. I can only assume that they’ve been through quite a lot together. I’m only now suddenly realising that I don’t know much of their time before the gang. Maybe I’m overthinking things — maybe it is just because all they’ve had for so long was each other. I have to wonder whether I’ll ever know—

“Whatcha writin’ there?”

Arthur looked up from his journal to see Maebh standing at the threshold of his tent, two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. He shut the book before placing it down on his cot. “Nothin’ interestin’, I can promise you that.”

At the foot of his Arthur’s cot, Copper raised his head at the newcomer. His tail began to wag as Maebh offered the dog his own greeting.

“Whatever you say,” she replied and offered him one of the cups. As he thanked her, she took a seat on the ground. As soon as she was sat down comfortably, Copper was on his feet and plodding over to join her. She cooed at his dog and happily scratched behind his ears before once more meeting Arthur’s gaze. “All these years, Mr Morgan, and I still have no idea what in the hell you write in that little book of yours.”

He smirked at her comment. “Tell you what; maybe you finally tell me somethin’ ’bout yourself, and I can write it down in this little book of mine.”

“Whatcha mean?”

“What you mean ‘what I mean’?”

“Are you, the mysterious Arthur Morgan, insinuatin’ that I’m the mysterious one?”

He shook his head and aimlessly scratched the stubble on his chin. “All I know is I know very little ’bout ya. I think I’ve gotten a bit more outta your brother than you actually.”

“Well,” she sighed, gently cupping her coffee in her hands while Copper laid down on the grass beside her, his furry back resting against her leg. “I don’t exactly know loads ’bout you either. So to me, it sounds like we’re mysterious peas in an incomprehensible pod.”

Arthur assessed her from his spot. She was still decorated in a few bruises and cuts from her second fall off a horse, but seemed far less stiff and sore than she had previously been. Perhaps that was something to open with, and hopefully lead into other conversation. “How’re you feelin’ after Winterset?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, grand. Could’a been a lot worse, and while I hate being segregated to takin’ it easy, I know it had to be done.”

“I don’t like havin’ to rest much either,” he agreed sympathetically. “But it’ll help you in the long run, which is important.”

“I don’t even mind havin’ to loiter ’round camp if I’m doin’ jobs and the like, but sittin’ and doin’ nothin’ drives me up the wall.”

“You seem to spendin’ most of it lookin’ after that new horse o’yours.” He nodded towards where said horse was grazing on the other side of camp. After riding it out of Winterset during the robbery, Arthur had noticed how Maebh had tentatively approached the animal the next day, probably half expecting to receive a hefty kick or bite. But the tall horse seemed surprisingly docile, instead happily accepting the attention with curious ears titled towards the new stranger. She returned again later with pats and a peach, which seemed to go down well, so Arthur saw an opportunity to quickly sketch the pair in his journal, something he never intended on letting her see.

Maebh threw a curious glance over her shoulder at the relaxed animal. “She’s a nice horse. Seems to like me a lot more than Banquo ever did. William did advise me on how to approach her though, just to make sure I couldn’t add ‘kicked in the head by a horse’ to my long list of embarrassin’ injuries…”

“She’s a beautiful animal. You gonna keep her?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, clearly thinking it over. “I think it’s ’bout time I got a new mount. I suppose I wouldn’t be much of an outlaw without one. Maybe me and my horse can be as compatible as you and Boadicea someday.”

“If you look after her just right then it can happen. As I always say, if you look after a horse, it’ll look after you just as good.” He took a sip of his coffee before noticing that her eyes were subtly fixed on his journal, and found himself smirking at her inquisitiveness. “Still curious then?”

“Always,” she admitted and leaned forwards slightly. “I always see you scribblin’ away in that thing. I’m startin’ to think you’re writin’ the world’s longest novel.”

“I sure as hell ain’t no novel writer,” he replied, embarrassed by the insinuation. “That’s for sure.”

Her brow piqued slightly. “So if you’re not a novelist, you a playwright?”

“Naw.”

“A poet?”

That one made him laugh aloud. “Say that louder so Dutch and Hosea can get a kick out of it too.”

She held a hand up in mock defence. “I’m just tryin’ to cover all the options here!”

“Well there ain’t no stories, plays, or poems to be readin’ in here,” he said before gesturing to the apparently mysterious book. “Just… my thoughts really.”

The young woman let out a prolonged ‘ah’ and met his gaze. “So it’s like a journal?”

“I guess so.” He lowered his head at the admission, his rough fingers tapping on the edge on the warm cup. He cleared his throat and tried to appear casual about it all. “It ain’t nothin’ really. Just helps me keep track o’things.”

“You don’t need’ta explain yourself to me,” was her response, her tone having shifted from mild jesting to a gentle understanding. “Journals are personal things — maybe even more so than writin’ stories. So don’t worry; I’m not goin’ t’ask you to let me read it.”

The fact she didn’t tease him for keeping a journal was a small relief for Arthur. He’d previously been consumed with the worry about her thinking it was pointless or excessive, but now he merely wondered from where this empathetic awareness came. “You speakin’ from experience?”

She paused and suddenly she was the one finding the grass beneath her quite interesting. “Kinda. I used to write stories as a kid.”

Well, there was something he didn’t know about her.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by that,” he mused. “You fancied yourself a writer?”

The subject was a curious one. Her entire demeanour shifted with the mention of her old hobby. He noticed her hands relentlessly tapping on the cup, causing it to ring out in a repeated rhythmic beat. “Maybe when I was younger, not so much now.”

Over the years, they had talked of the past surprisingly little in the time they’d known each other. They knew the basics sure, but personal details in the realm of secret pastimes were few and far between. He was quite intrigued with the new information, so curiosity got the better of him. “What made you wanna be a writer?”

“I like stories,” she replied with a small smirk. “Thought you could’ve guessed that from all the readin’ I do.”

“Suppose I should’a guessed that much.”

“I’ve just... always been into readin’ stories and tryin’ to create my own when I was younger. I had an active imagination.”

Arthur thought of the times he rarely saw a book out of her hand if she wasn’t otherwise occupied with chores or drinking. “You must’ve been read to a lot as a kid then.”

The ghost of a smile passed over her lips. The movement was one he rarely saw — it was genuine, entirely so, not the same type of smile she plastered on in most group situations. Her eyes appeared glazed, as though she was somewhere far away at that very moment. “My ma and da were big into storytellin’ — my ma in particular. She used to insist that it was important we were familiar with stories of where we came from, both real and fictional. So it was normal for us to be told a story before bed each night. Somewhere along the line, I think I began tellin’ my own ones. Or trying to at least. Sometimes I just repeated her ones over and over again.”

Arthur rarely heard Maebh talk about her parents. He still didn’t know much about what happened to them or who they were. Their existence remained a mystery to him, much like their children still did to a degree. Of what little he knew, her memories of them seemed mostly fond at least. She was lucky to have folks like that, lest he thought of his own bastard of a daddy.

He sipped at his coffee, trying to waste the bitter taste off his tongue. “They sound like educated people. Your folks, I mean.”

“Not so much actually. They were just brought up in the same way and I think they wanted us to be aware of what was goin’ on ’round us.”

“Were they from Dublin too?”

As she spoke, a tentative hand ran over the back of her neck, skimming the chain of her necklace back and forth. “My ma yeah, but my da was from Connemara which is in the west of Ireland.”

He sensed that he was veering into uncertain and unstable territory. Though he was curious about her upbringing, he got the feeling that she would close off if he pushed the talk of her parents, so with a casual nod, he railed her back in. “So, you got parents who love to read and tell stories, and then you start writin’ your own... Why’d you stop?”

Her answer was dismissive, and her fidgeting hands didn’t relent with his new question. “I don’t really have time for all that anymore. Kinda busy doin’... outlaw stuff.”

He thought about her reply for a moment, then let out a sigh and tapped the leather cover of his journal. “I’ve had this here journal for just over a year now. And I had one before that, and one before that. I’ve been writin’ in ‘em since Hosea got me my very first one a couple years after I joined this gang. You just gotta make time if it makes you happy. Dutch keeps up with his readin’, John whittles in his free time, Susan always tries to have a game of poker when things get stressful, Hosea and Bessie go out on huntin’ trips to get away sometimes. Hell, I’ve seen you and William goin’ on fishin’ trips sometimes. If you like it, you gotta make time.”

She seemed to ponder his words, the tapping of her fingers slowing until they stopped. When he met her gaze, he found her watching him intently with curiously glint in her eye. She nodded slowly and then said. “I suppose you’re right. I might look into it at some point if I have the time.”

“Good. And then maybe sometime you’ll let me read the stories you write.”

She actually grinned at the suggestion and let out a laugh. “The day that happens is the day you let me look in that lil journal.” She got to her feet, coffee in hand. “I’ll leave you to your writin’, Arthur. I don’t want’a take up much more of your time.”

“Alright, well, thanks for your company, Maebh.”

“The pleasure was mine.” She reached down to pet Copper’s head. “See you in a bit, boy.”

Arthur gave her a small wave as she wandered off to the other side of camp. He watched as she was set upon by Karen and the two got into a casual conversation. Copper eyed her too, before letting his head rest one of his paws again and catching up on some shut eye.

Without much thought, Arthur grabbed his journal again and opened it on the page he had been writing before her arrival. With a slightly dull pencil, he picked up where he left off:

So, seems that Maebh used to be a storyteller. Why does that come as no surprise to me? Hosea and Dutch always encouraged that I kept up with reading and writing, though I suspect she will not need to be encouraged to stick with reading. Regardless, maybe I can help ease her back into writing if that’s what she’s passionate about. I tried to explain how important it is to have hobbies outside of the gang, but I’m not sure if my words failed me or not. I’m not the best at passionate speeches — that’s more Dutch’s job than mine. Hopefully I didn’t discourage her, at least.

Still, it was nice to discuss trivial things for once. It seems that I’ve gotten my share of personal conversations with the Hennigan siblings in the last few days. Hopefully we do it more in the future and I can learn more about these two orphans and where they came from.

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thehooliganhangoutspot · 7 years

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(Submission) ☝🏾Link to transcript of Bruno’s 60 minutes interview.

Bruno Mars on his artistry: “I’m working hard for this” He’s been broke, busted and nearly homeless. Now, as 60 Minutes’ Lara Logan reports, he’s on top of the music world

2016 Nov 20

The following script is from “Bruno Mars,” which aired on Nov. 20, 2016. Lara Logan is the correspondent. John Hamlin, producer.

Bruno Mars is one of the world’s biggest music stars and he’s one of the most driven people we’ve ever seen. Just 31, he’s the product of what he calls a “school of rock” education – a working class life of experiences that have taught him the music business. None of it came easily. He’s been broke, busted and nearly homeless. But this week, following the release of his first album in four years, he’s on top of the music world.

To show us how he got there, Bruno Mars did something he’s never done: he shared with us some of the toughest moments of his Hawaiian upbringing, and gave us the opportunity to witness his extraordinary skills as a songwriter and producer.

We begin with Bruno Mars, the entertainer.

Bruno Mars at Paradise Park, Hawaii AARON TOMLINSON/60 MINUTES This show in Connecticut last month was his first public concert of the year, and he used it as a tune-up for the release of his new album and world tour to follow. On every song and every note, from arenas to halftime of the Super Bowl, he and his band, The Hooligans, perform full throttle.

His standards are high because the legends of music set them.

Bruno Mars: I just really care about what people see. I want them to know that I’m working hard for this. The artists that I look up to like, you know, Michael, Prince, James Brown. You watch them and you understand that they’re paying attention to the details of their art. And they care so much about what they’re wearing, about how they’re moving, about how they’re making the audience feel. They’re not phoning it in. They’re going up there to murder anybody that performs after them or performs before them. That’s what I’ve watched my whole life and admired.

He is a throwback. You see it in the choreography on stage and hear it in the songs themselves. Descendants of the generations that came before him.

“I just really care about what people see. I want them to know that I’m working hard for this.” Bruno Mars Lara Logan: When I listen to your songs.

Bruno Mars: Uh-huh.

Lara Logan: You can hear all those people that you’ve listened to.

Bruno Mars: Yeah.

Lara Logan: Over the years.

Bruno Mars CBS NEWS Bruno Mars: A lot of people are really quick to say, “That song sounds like this.” Or you– “He’s tryin’ to sound like this.” And I’m always like, “You’re damn right I am. That’s how– that’s why we’re all here.” You know, we all grew up idolizing another musician. That’s how this works. That’s how music is created.

The musical education of Bruno Mars began in his hometown: Honolulu, Hawaii. He was born Peter Hernandez, to a Puerto Rican father and Filipino mother: parents who were professional musicians, performing together in the tourist showrooms of Waikiki Beach. Their act was called the “Love Notes” and when Bruno was four years old his parents included him in the family business. He played “Little Elvis” and it’s when he first learned he could steal the show.

The “Little Elvis” routine lasted six years. But the lessons of his parents’ Vegas-style Waikiki entertainment revue, have lasted a lifetime.

Bruno Mars: You know, it was, like, “School Of Rock” for me. And it was just this kind of razzle-dazzle lifestyle.

Lara Logan: That’s real showbiz.

Bruno Mars: Yeah, show business. You know?

Lara Logan: Right?

Bruno Mars: And if you wasn’t hitting those notes and the audience wasn’t freaking out, then you weren’t doing it right.

By the time he turned 12, his parents divorced and the family band broke up. Money was tight. His four sisters moved in with his mom. He and his brother lived with his dad…

Lara Logan: On top of this building?

Bruno Mars: On top of this building.

…anywhere they could.

Bruno Mars: My dad was just the king of finding these little spots for us to stay that we should never have been staying at.

Lara Logan: But you were, like, homeless people?

Bruno Mars: Yeah. No. Yeah, for sure. We was in a limousine at once. 1984 limousine.

Sleeping in the back of a car, on top of buildings, and this place…

Lara Logan: So this is where you lived?

…Paradise Park, a bird zoo where his dad took a job. This was the first time he’d been back here since. Even people who work with him haven’t heard this part of his story.

Bruno Mars: Where we were staying at first—

Lara Logan: Yeah.

Bruno Mars: –didn’t have a bathroom. So we’d have to walk across the park to this other spot that had a bathroom.

Lara Logan: Wow.

Bruno Mars: In the in–

Lara Logan: And sometimes in the middle of the night?

Bruno Mars: In the middle of the night.

When the park closed, they stayed, moving into this one-room building.

Lara Logan: This was your house?

Bruno Mars: Yeah.

They lived here for more than two years.

Bruno Mars: Just so people don’t think we’re crazy.

Lara Logan: Yeah.

Bruno Mars: It did not look like this.

Lara Logan: It had a roof?

Bruno Mars: It had a roof.

Lara Logan: It didn’t have plants growing inside.

Bruno Mars: It didn’t have plants growing inside. I don’t know what happened to the roof. But the bed would be right there in the middle.

Lara Logan: Yeah? And you’d all sleep in one bed?

Bruno Mars: We’d all sleep in one bed.

Lara Logan: Happy memories?

Bruno Mars: The best.

Lara Logan: That’s– is kind of amazing in that, what you remember about it is not the struggle or the things you didn’t have.

Bruno Mars: Nah—

Lara Logan: It’s all the things you had.

Bruno Mars: Yeah. We had it all, you know. We had each other and it never felt like it was the end of the world. “It’s alright we don’t got electric today. It’s alright. It’s temporary.” saying, “Well, we gonna figure this out.”Maybe that’s why I have this mentality when it comes to the music. ‘Cause I know I’m gonna figure– I’m gonna figure it out, just give me some time.

As soon as he graduated high school, he left the Waikiki showrooms and Hawaii altogether.

Lara Logan: You could’ve stayed here, right—

Bruno Mars: And be—

Lara Logan: –and you could—

Bruno Mars: –very happy.

Lara Logan: Yeah? And made a good living, and done what your dad did and been a big star in Hawaii?

Bruno Mars: I wanted to go for it.

Lara Logan: You wanted more?

Bruno Mars: I wanted more. And my family pushed me. And this island pushed me.

Lara Logan: How?

Bruno Mars: These are my people, and this is my culture, and I want to represent them. I want people to think of Hawaii and think of palm trees and magical islands and Bruno Mars.

So he headed for Los Angeles where he was quickly signed by Motown Records. Gone was his given name of Peter Hernandez, branding himself Bruno Mars instead.

“Bruno,” his childhood nickname, “Mars” shooting for the stars. The name stuck but the record contract didn’t. Motown dropped him.

Bruno Mars: I don’t blame Motown. I don’t– I– I was sim– it’s simply I wasn’t ready yet. I think everybody don’t know what color I am. It’s like, “He’s not black enough. He’s not white enough. He’s got a Latin last name but he doesn’t have– he doesn’t speak Spanish. Who are we selling this to? Are you making urban music? Are you making pop music? What kind of music are you making?”

With no hit songs of his own and dead broke, he started over, writing and producing songs for other artists with friends Ari Levine and Philip Lawrence. They were starving musicians. Inspired by the hustle just to pay for food, they came up with this song.

[Music from “Billionaire”]

It led to another record deal of his own. His career as a songwriter and performer was finally on track. About that time though, he was arrested for possession of two-and-a-half grams of cocaine.

Lara Logan: From the outside you really seem to keep it together and to be very professional and, you know, very committed but you nearly threw it all away.

Bruno Mars: I did something very stupid. I’m in Las Vegas, Lara. I’m 24 years old. I’m, you know, drinking way more than I’m supposed to be drinking and it was so early in my career and I always say that I think it had to happen. That was the reality check I needed and I’m– I promised myself that that, you know, you ain’t never gonna read about that again.

Headlines for hits, not drug busts have been his narrative ever since capped by two Super Bowl halftime performances in three years and three Grammys including “record of the year” for his collaboration with producer Mark Ronson, “Uptown Funk.” It’s the biggest hit in a career full of them.

Lara Logan: How difficult is it to write a song that’s great?

Bruno Mars: “Uptown Funk” took us almost a year to write. And there’s songs that taken– that’s taken us two hours to write. And we throw ‘em away. “Uptown Funk” was in the trashcan about 10 times.

Lara Logan: Really?

Bruno Mars: Yeah.

Lara Logan: Why?

Bruno Mars: ‘Cause we made a lot of, you know, you can make a left turn and all of a sudden this song is something terrible. Embarrassing almost. But you have this one thing that keeps you going. This one part of the song that feels so good and it makes you want to keep going. And it makes you want– “Ah, we should just try again. Let’s try again, let’s try again.”

He told us the conception of much of his music begins, in this California recording studio.

Bruno Mars: This is it, Lara.

Over the last two years he has been on lock down here trying to answer the challenge created from his run of big hits. Especially his last one.

Bruno Mars: This album, it was daunting, because coming off of “Uptown Funk” was like the biggest song I’ve ever been a part of. And then you’re like, alright, now what are you gonna do?

This is what he came up with. His new album, “24K Magic.” The title song, out just six weeks, is already another massive hit. He showed us how they built the song from the drums up.

“I was built for this…It’s dedicating yourself to your craft.” Bruno Mars Bruno Mars: That’s how it starts.

Lara Logan: And then?

Bruno Mars: Well come on, come on!

Bruno Mars: And then we could put some sparkle on it. Like put a little magic dust on it. Hear that?

Bruno Mars: Drums and base is locking, right?

Lara Logan: Yes.

Bruno Mars: Feel good yet?

Lara Logan: Yes!

Bruno Mars: Then you add the sauce, the secret sauce. You ready?

Bruno Mars: That’s it.

Bruno Mars: 24 Karat Magic!

Bruno Mars: Showtime! Guess who’s back again?

It’s easy to see that Bruno Mars loves the only job he’s ever wanted and that he’s still driven, to get it right.

Bruno Mars: I was built for this Lara. It’s dedicating yourself to your craft. Spending thousands of hours in a studio learning how to write a song, learning how to play different chords, training yourself to sing. You know, to get better and better.

Lara Logan: Are you there?

Bruno Mars: No. I’m not even close.

#Link #submission

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stardust2003 · 7 years

Text

Madferit: The Novel - Chapter 27

"Their brand new CD, I have a copy of it right here, is entitled 'What's the Story (Morning Glory?)'. Here they are kids. They're great. Please welcome, Oasis!"

Scott's fucking off didn't halt the band's tour. Not that anyone truly expected it to. They regrouped. Replanned. And then we were back in New York.

Noel kept things in order like he always did and figured out a brilliant way to replace Scott without having to add anyone new.

"Bonehead, you'll go on bass."

"Alright." Bonehead replied with an agreeable nod.

And that was it.

Emma and I got front row seats in the audience to watch the show. It was my second time being there but it was no less exciting.

The boys might have been nervous switching roles a bit but you'd never know it. They always kept this weirdly calm demeanor when they were on national television. But I suppose Noel wouldn't have it any other way.

"We'll not fuck this up!" That was his warning to the entire party every time before they went in front of the cameras. It usually seemed more aimed at Liam than the others but he definitely meant it. He also enforced a strict "no gear" policy until after the gigs had been completed. Again, this was aimed more at Liam...with the expectation the others would look after him as well.

I chuckled as I watched them do their thing. Actually, I was chuckling at Liam. For whatever reason, he thought it best to wear sunglasses during the show.

"I'm a fuckin' rock and roll star!" He said before they went on. "I'm s'posed to wear 'em all the bloody time!"

There was no sense in arguing with him, not that I really wanted to. I just wondered how well he could actually see.

The band performed as a four-piece with Liam singing, Alan drumming, Noel on guitar, and Bonehead on bass.

"So what's wrong with the other guy?" Emma asked as we sat in our seats.

"Nervous exhaustion." I replied.

"From what?"

"Touring I guess."

"Oh." She said. "Did he quit the band?"

"No." I told her. "He's supposed to come back. Just don't know when."

Everyone had been leaving Guigsy alone to give him time to recover. He was staying in Manchester away from all the chaos surrounding the band, hiding out at his parents' house with his girlfriend.

The band caught a super late red eye after the gig and we were on our way back across the pond. To London.

And I was surprisingly excited to get back.

We boarded the plane with Noel leading the way.

"You want the window seat?" He asked when we got to our row.

"Course she fuckin' does!" Liam spoke up. "Right next to me." He pushed Noel out of the way.

"Oi!"

"Go on, Tixie!" Liam grinned as he nodded at the seats. "That's our-"

"No it fuckin' isn't!" Noel barked as he went back towards Liam. "Get the fuck out-"

"Enough!" Emma screamed as she jumped between them. "I'm not about to get kicked off this plane for you idiots!"

"I'm not doin' nothin'!" Noel defended. "He's the one that-"

"Is there a problem here?" The flight attendant asked as she came up behind Emma.

"Yeah." Liam replied. He pointed at Noel. "He's a fuckin' cunt. Tryin' to kick me outta my own fuckin' seat!"

"You fuckin'-"

"Knock it off!" I hissed as I held my arm up in front of Noel to keep him back.

"May I see your boarding passes please?" The flight attendant asked the two brothers.

"The fuck d'ya need to see 'em for?" Liam asked. "I'm not lyin'! He's in my fuckin' seat with my-"

"SHUT UP, YOU DICK!" Noel bellowed.

An iron strong expression spread across the flight attendant's face.

"Boarding passes. Now!"

Noel handed his right over but Liam was naturally reluctant.

So she jerked it right out of his hand.

"Right." She said after she read the passes over (to Liam more so than Noel). "Get in your seat. Now!"

"But-"

"Sir! Either you get in your assigned seat or you'll be escorted back off this plane."

"To where?" Liam asked. "Ya can't detain me. I'm an English citizen! What ya reckon Her Majesty'll think-"

"Oh will you shut! Up?!" Emma and I said in unison.

But of course, he didn't listen.

"She'll fuckin' have you, she will!" He pointed at the stewardess. "And she'll have Thatcher after ya as well. Forget John Major. The Iron Lady'll fuckin'-"

"Liam!" Noel cut him off quickly. "For God's sake! Shut your fuckin'-"

"I'm not shuttin' nothin'! This bird thinks she'll-"

"Sir!" The flight attendant piped up. "This is your last warning! Take your seat or you'll be-"

"Alright!" Liam exclaimed as he held his hands up in surrender. "Jesus!"

Everyone, including Our Kid, got in their correct seats. Noel and I were in one row, Liam and Emma were right behind us, and the rest were behind them. It was going to be a long flight with time changes and stuff and I really hoped it would go smoothly.

I found myself drifting back and forth between being asleep and awake as I rested my head on Noel's shoulder. He seemed to be doing the same thing while he had his chin on the top of my head. His breathing was quiet and even and I was glad he found peace enough to rest.

In the moments I was fully awake, I got the entertainment of listening to Emma and Liam.

"You can't smoke on the plane!" She exclaimed.

"Yes I fuckin' can! And I fuckin' will, right?" He replied. "I'll just go back and spark up in the toilet and no one'll have a fuckin' clue."

"Yeah until a big cloud of smoke comes billowing outta the bathroom! Are you trying to get kicked off the plane or something?"

"No! I'm tryin' to have a bloody smoke! Where's me cigarettes?"

"In your bag where you put them."

He began rifling around in something. "Where's me lighter?" He said. "Did you steal it?"

"No I didn't steal it!" Emma replied. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"'Cuz you're a nurse and ya think it's bad for me. But I don't care. I like smokin', me."

"Oh my God! Will you please shut up?!"

He did...for a bit anyway.

"When d'they bring us dinner?" He asked. "Thought we got food on this flight. And booze."

"There's no way you're getting anything alcoholic to drink." She told him. "You act like a dick even when you're sober!"

"No I don't! I was perfectly within my rights as a fuckin' passenger for what I done earlier."

"Are you shitting me?! You almost got us all kicked off the plane!"

"No I didn't!" He argued. "There was no fuckin' way that bint was gonna make that happen! She don't know who she's dealin' with."

"Oh my God, Liam! Seriously! Just shut the fuck up!"

"I will when they bring me my dinner! Or tea. Is it time for tea yet?"

"I don't know." She said. "What time is that normally?"

"London time." He replied. "What time is it in London?"

"I don't know-"

"Haven't ya got a watch?"

"Yeah but it's set to Eastern time and-"

"Tixie'll know." He interrupted her. "She always knows this sort of thing, she does. Tix? Tixie!"

"Leave her alone! She's sleeping!" Emma said firmly.

"She'll wake up for me! She's my sitter, right? My-"

"Liam! I mean it! Let her go!"

He sighed. "It were just a question. Just one. Then I won't mither her no more."

And he didn't.

No questions were asked. No mithering was done either.

The plane fell quiet and I found it easy to go to sleep. We were going back to London for a week or so break before the next gig and I was finding myself more and more ready for it.

Noel's shoulder was quite comfortable to rest on despite how boney it was. It felt warm and protective and I was happy in knowing how safe I was with him.

I don't know how long I was asleep for. My mind had been playing tricks on me during the whole flight, confusing me with what was real and what wasn't.

Like when I heard someone singing.

That someone being Noel.

The sun is up, the sky is blue

It's beautiful and so are you

Was it reality...or unreality?

Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play?

I opened my eyes to see a pair of blue ones staring back at me.

I smiled. "My name's not Prudence." I said.

He smiled back. "I know that." He replied. "But I had to wake ya up somehow."

I hummed in reply and then readjusted my head on his shoulder.

He kissed my forehead then got as close to my ear as he could. "C'mon, Pet." He said softly. "This lady'd like to know what ya want to drink."

I opened my eyes and sat up. It was morning and a glass of orange juice sounded absolutely delicious.

Noel got one too and we sat there enjoying them...for a few seconds anyway.

"Oi!" Liam yelled as he kicked the back of Noel's seat causing him to lurch forward. "Who the fuck d'ya think y'are singin' John Lennon? Knobhead!"

Noel set his glass down and turned around. "You fuckin'-"

Liam kicked his seat again nearly causing Noel's glass of orange juice to spill.

"The fuck'd ya wait 'til now to start your shite, eh?" Noel said. "We're nearly descendin'!"

Surprisingly, the plane landed at Heathrow without incident and the tour vacation finally began.

Bonehead went back to Manchester. Alan went back to Lewisham. Liam went to Patsy's. And Noel, Emma, and I went to Supernova Heights.

No parties were planned and for once it was a good thing. It was nice to have peace and quiet. And I think Noel agreed.

With Halloween fast approaching but Noel refusing to let Emma and me put up decorations ("You'll only have to take them down again!") we relegated ourselves to the next best thing – baking.

Emma and I had at least three dozen chocolate chip cookies done and cooling by the time the Halloween cut-outs went in.

Noel left us alone in the kitchen and hid upstairs working on a new song.

I knew he was in his element but decided not to let him be by himself for too long. The sugar cookies still had a couple minutes to bake when I gathered a few of the chocolate chip ones and a glass of milk to take upstairs.

I walked into the "music room" and found him sitting on the couch, strumming his guitar, completely tuning out the world around him.

He only noticed I was there when I sat down beside him and made him jump.

"Hi." I said looking at him.

"Hi." He replied. He looked at the plate and glass. "What ya got there?"

"Treats."

"For me?"

"Yep." I nodded. "We've got Halloween ones coming too but they still need to be iced."

"Ace!" He said as he propped his guitar against the bottom front of the couch and took the cookies and milk from me. "What's the occasion?"

I shrugged. "Nothing really. Just something to do."

He raised his eyebrows in response as he took a bite of a cookie. He set the plate and glass down on the table beside the couch as he finished the cookie.

I sat there watching him, congratulating myself (and Emma, of course) for doing well on the cookies.

Noel leaned back in the couch and relaxed a bit.

I reached over and began massaging the base of his neck making him sigh and close his eyes.

"You don't feel as tense as you normally do." I remarked as I stroked his skin.

He hummed in reply. I knew he wouldn't give much more of a response when it came to that subject.

"When's them other biscuits done?" He asked a couple minutes later.

"After we ice them." I replied. "You won't let us decorate the house, you can at least let us decorate the cookies."

Again another hum.

I continued his massage for a few more minutes then left him to go check on things downstairs.

It was getting close to dinner time so Emma and I agreed we better get to fixing something. Spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread. Something filling and perfect for a cool, October night.

The pasta was boiling as the sauce and meat balls heated up. The bread was in the oven and the kitchen had a lovely aroma of tomatoes and garlic.

While things continued to cook, Emma and I busied ourselves with icing cookies until someone came barging through the front door.

"Hey up! What smells so good?"

He came sauntering into the kitchen in that famous way of his with his nose in the air trying to figure out what was cooking.

"Ah! Nice one!" He exclaimed as he took off the pan lid and saw the spaghetti sauce inside it. "How long 'til this is done?"

"Not long." Emma replied. "Didn't know you were coming."

"Didn't need to tell ya, did I? Unless there's some RSVP bollocks I should know about."

"Oh yes!" I chimed in as I rolled my eyes.

He smirked as he grabbed the spoon we'd been stirring the sauce with and stuck it in the pan.

"Liam!" I yelled as he put the spoonful in his mouth. "What are you doing?"

"Testin' it, yeah?" He said. "Makin' sure ya actually put meat in it."

"Of course we put meat in it! Why wouldn't we?"

He shrugged. "Patsy won't put any meat in hers. Or real pasta. We're not allowed to have any bread 'cuz she's afraid it'll make her gain weight!"

"Well you don't look like you're suffering." I told him. Despite all the drugs, he and the others had quite the appetites. For junk food mostly but they definitely liked to eat.

And they definitely wouldn't pass up on a home cooked meal.

Liam ate about half a dozen of the sugar cookies before dinner and polished off the other half afterwards.

"Can I stay here?" He asked when we all went to chill in the living room. "Please?"

"Did ya bring your stuff with you?" Noel asked. "We leave tomorrow and if you've not got your shit packed-"

"I did, yeah. Already planned for it."

Noel tutted and shook his head. "Course ya did. You'll have to sleep down here though. Emma's got the guestroom."

"What?!" Liam exclaimed. "But the guestroom's my room!"

"The guestroom's whose ever I bloody well want it to be!" Noel informed him. "And I want it to be Emma's. She's stayin' here so-"

"So am I! I were here first-"

"I don't fuckin' care! Ya can sleep on the couch or ya can fuck off back to Hounslow. Take your pick."

He picked the couch.

"Stay with me." He said as he grabbed my wrist. "Please?"

"No." I said firmly. "You'll be fine-"

"Please Tixie! I don't like bein' down here by myself. Just, just stay with me 'til I fall asleep. Please?"

"No! Good night, Liam."

I expected him to come sneaking into the bedroom later but he never did. And I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

The alarm clock started buzzing letting us know it was time.

"Nobody should ever have to get up this early." Noel yawned as he stretched and wiped the sleep out of his eyes. "Should be illegal to start your day before ten AM."

"Better write your MP." I told him as I sat up.

I left Noel to shower while I went downstairs to roust Liam.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" I exclaimed as I looked over the back of the couch and saw him lying there.

I leaned down on the top of the couch's back and began running my finger up and down his spine.

He jerked with a gasp. "It's fuckin' freezin'!" He exclaimed without opening his eyes.

"Then wear clothes!" I said.

He opened his eyes and looked up at me. "Tixie? What're you-"

"Making sure you're awake. You've got a gig to do in case you forgot."

"I didn't forget." He shook his head as he readjusted it on the pillows and closed his eyes. "But we've plenty of-"

"No we don't." I cut him off. "Bus pulls out in two hours. Get up!"

He smirked as he rolled over on his back and looked up at me. "Make me."

I went to reply but got distracted when I noticed his dick looked about part way to becoming a semi.

And he could obviously tell I noticed. He grinned even bigger as he spread his legs a bit more to get my attention.

"You're welcome to have a bite if you're interested." He informed me as he nodded at it.

"Fuck! Off!" I snapped as I slapped him not as hard as I could've.

"Ow! Jesus, Tix! There's no reason for ya to be rude!"

"Oh piss off!"

I went to swing again but he grabbed my wrist to stop me.

"I'm sorry alright?" He said his eyes that crystal clear blue. "Just come sit down, yeah? 'Til our Noel gets done in the bath."

"Not 'til you use this." I told him as I threw a blanket over his waist.

I came around and sat down on the couch, letting him rest his feet in my lap. "How'd ya sleep?" I asked.

"Like shit." He replied. "You lot need a new couch. This one's too lumpy. It's like I'm sleepin' on a bed a rocks or summat."

"You'll have to take that one up with Noel."

"Trust me. I will."

I chuckled.

We sat there quietly for a few minutes before Liam changed it all up.

"Liam!" I screamed as he pulled me down on top of him. "What the hell are you-"

"Just say ya want me." He said as he grabbed the back of my head and pulled my face closer to his. "Y'know ya do so just fuckin' say it! Please Tixie! I don't wanna play around anymore. You and I are meant for each other so stop this arsein' about with Noel and come back to me!"

"No! Liam!" I struggled to break free but it was no use.

"I fuckin' love ya, Adds! I really fuckin' do. How can I show ya how much I care about you?"

"By letting me go!"

He grabbed the back of my head with both hands and crashed his lips on mine.

"Stop!" I ordered as I pulled my face away. "Please! Stop!"

But he wouldn't listen.

And neither would I.

I was going to be in control though. That was the one thing he had to give me.

Besides, he knew he'd get more out of it in the long run.

"This cuntin' blanket's the only thing separatin' us." He remarked.

And he was right.

Literally and metaphorically.

I slid my hand under the blanket and down his stomach.

He was hard and ready when I got there.

I wrapped my whole hand around his member and gave it a gentle squeeze. It felt so firm and smooth in my hand. I knew there'd be no friction.

There never was.

I began stroking him, revving him up as I increased the speed.

"Faster!" He commanded. "Ya've gotta go faster and give me summat to work with. I can't go on this fuckin' slow pace."

I sped up and his hips moved with my hand. They rocked and swayed in a perfect motion as he panted and started to moan.

I squeezed his balls which were swollen and hard making him gasp in a mixture of pleasure and pain. They were two of his most sensitive areas and it was pretty easy to tell.

I twisted my hand around his shaft back and forth opening and closing a jar.

"Quit fuckin' teasin' me!" Liam said. "Just hurry up and do it right!"

"Why do you always wanna hurry?" I asked.

"'Cuz Our Kid'll be comin' down them stairs and-"

"You have a guilty conscience?"

He just looked at me letting his eyes do all the talking.

I shook my head and squeezed him a little harder.

"Jesus!" He hissed.

We kept things going until he gasped and his whole body tensed up.

"Stop!" He exclaimed as he grabbed at my hand. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

"Why on earth do you wanna stop?" I asked curiously. "We're just getting-"

"Seriously, Addie! Quit! I'm gonna blow me fuckin' wad if you don't fuckin' stop now."

"Well isn't that the whole purpose of this adventure? To make you blow your fuckin' wad?"

"Not on Noel's couch!" He said. "He'll fuckin' kill me if he-"

"What the fuck do you care?" I asked.

The look on his face made a complete change. That dead stare came back. That cocky, confident, dead one he pulled off so well.

"I don't."

I smirked. There was no way he'd let himself bow down and be nice. No way he'd quit being selfish.

At least, not when I had his dick in my hand.

He sighed as he lay his head back trying to catch his breath. He was clearly spent. And clearly contented.

"You give that blanket a couple minutes to dry out and it'll fuckin' break in half." He said as he pointed at it before closing his eyes.

"Lovely!" I mused.

He giggled. "Oh, Tixie! That were fuckin' brilliant!"

"Thanks!" The pitch of my voice fell in sarcasm.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. "C'mere." He said as he waved his finger at me.

"No." I shook my head.

"C'mon! Just for a sec."

"No!"

"C'mon, Tix! Just-"

"No!" I told him. "I know what you want and you're not getting it!"

He went to speak but someone else beat him to it.

"Ready to go?"

#Liam Gallagher #Noel Gallagher #OFC #oasis band #fanfiction

0 notes

unofferable-fic · 4 years

Text

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 9 - Once More into the Fray...

————

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, fluff, violence.

Word Count: 6,926

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Playlist: “Minnesota, WI” — Bon Iver, “In God’s Country” — U2, “God Slap” — The Scratch, “Future Glory” — Jed Kurzel

————

A/N: Also available on AO3.

“Now son, why do you got that gun pointed at me and my friend here?”

Had Maebh been expecting Dutch’s tactics for dealing with a drunken highwayman to be laughter and sympathy? Not even remotely, but it wasn’t like she had any option other than to trust him. She had seen him talk his way out of many a situation in the last three years, so had no reason not to have faith that he could do it again. She kept her mouth shut, holding and pacifying an on-edge Copper, his hackles raised in defiance.

“’Cause I want your money, mister,” the robber replied. When Dutch laughed again, his cheeks went red. “You shut your damn mouth laughin’ at me!”

Dutch’s tone revealed just how unfazed he was by the situation. “Well what has you all the way out here tryin’ to rob some good folk such as ourselves?”

“Ain’t none of your business. I’m not lookin’ to talk.”

“I very much doubt that, my friend,” Dutch replied steadily. “You look to me like a feller who could do with some talkin’. I’m Dutch, this fine young lady is Maebh, and that’s Copper.”

The larger man grumbled. “I don’t give a shit.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“None o’your business! My only concern here is money.” Dutch chuckled again at that, prompting an aggressive response. “I told you to shut up laughin’!”

“How can I not laugh, my friend, when you insist on pretendin’ like you don’t need some help. You can’t tell me that you planned on spendin’ your life on the highway robbin’ any folks that wander by. Don’t you want some purpose?”

“How I spend my life ain’t no concern o’yours.”

“Well if you’re strugglin’ it is.” Dutch took a step towards the attacker, small enough that it wasn’t intimidating, but sure enough that he appeared confident in the move. “I have a gang, ya see — a family of misguided souls who were hard done by this country’s leaders. If I see someone I think needs help and has somethin’ to offer, I’ve no problem extendin’ a hand. Now, we got food, shelter, and booze, and you look like you can handle a gun. Why don’t you put it to better use makin’ a difference with some likeminded folks?”

The man hesitated, his rifle still aimed steadily, but his tone shifting into something more inquisitive. “And why don’t I just shoot you two down now, take your money, and be on my way?”

Dutch hummed with an amused grin. “Well, there’s two outcomes for that Mister…?”

A pause, then a gruff answer. “Bill.”

“Mister Bill, then. Either you shoot me, Maebh, and Copper there before lootin’ our corpses and wanderin’ off before you either die alone by the bullet or the bottle. Or outcome number two; I draw my pistol so quickly you can barely make a noise before I blow your brains out. Now, I would much rather it didn’t come to either of these, but it ain’t gonna end well for anyone who threatens my family.”

Maebh opted to keep quiet, knowing Dutch was far better with persuading crazy criminals than she was. She focused her attention on keeping Copper calm. Thankfully, the dog had stopped growling, but he was still very much wary of the stranger. She patted his side gently, reassuring him that he was alright and that he was, of course, a good boy.

“Tell me, Bill,” Dutch began again. “You ever heard of the Van der Linde gang?”

Bill released a huff. “Heard of ’em? They’re famous for robbin’ banks all over the damn place. Are you tellin’ me you’re Dutch Van der Linde?”

“Well I certainly ain’t talkin’ through my ass, son. Either you can join one of the most famous band of outlaws in the country, or you can go ’bout your business on your lonesome. It’s your choice, and I implore you to make the right one. It would be good to have ya onboard. You don’t gotta be alone anymore.”

There was a tense silence. If Bill was expecting Dutch to further try convince him to join, he was met with merely a stare down. The older man had already laid out his cards on the table and waited for the reveal of Bill’s hand. Maebh fixed her gaze on him, ready and willing to have Dutch’s back if it came to it. The barrel of the rifle rattled in Bill’s shaking hands before it abruptly lowered to the ground.

He quickly pulled down his bandana to reveal the rest of his pudgy face. “Suppose I would be dumb not to take it.”

Dutch smiled widely and quickly grasped his hand to shake. “Right you are, Bill. A wise choice indeed.”

At Dutch’s insistence, Maebh stepped up and accepted Bill’s handshake. “As long as you never point a rifle in Copper’s direction again, we’re good.”

He nodded, looking down at the young woman. “I ain’t gonna argue with that.”

“Just a warnin’, ’cause his owner would have no problem stranglin’ you for it.”

“You’ll meet him at another time,” Dutch began. “For now, you can come to camp and meet the rest of the gang. We can have some drinks and you can tell us about yourself. How’s that sound?”

“Good,” Bill replied, standing with his shoulders slightly more relaxed that before. “I guess.”

Even still, Maebh was wary. This wasn’t like when they had previously recruited Reverend Swanson. He had joined after saving Dutch’s life, whereas Bill had just threatened to shoot them both. Even still, she had to place faith in her leader and assume there was logic to his offer. While this newcomer certainly appeared lost and directionless, he also seemed ruthless if he was willing to rob and shoot innocent people along the highway. Perhaps that could be knocked out of him. She knew from her experience with Arthur that a hard and threatening front used to get your own way could always be just an act.

So, she listened carefully as they walked back to camp and made idle conversation. Bill was an army veteran, having been assigned to the 15th infantry that fought against Native Americans. When asked about why he left, he admitted to being dishonourably discharged for deviancy and attempted murder the year before.

Jaysus, not off to a great start, she thought to herself. Although I guess I can hardly judge…

He admitted to sleeping rough for the last year, just about surviving off robbing people along various highways while drinking to pass the time. Not exactly a pleasant life or ideal situation for anyone to be in. She could at least understand why he had been so inclined to accept Dutch’s offer when he had little else to live for.

Back at camp, her friends were surprised to see them returning with not just the ginseng.

“Everyone!” Dutch announced, standing outside his tent. “Everyone! Gather round!”

At his words, the ever loyal gang members who were present stood together before him. William found a spot beside Maebh while Karen appeared nearby too.

She gave Maebh a nudge with her elbow before nodding to the newcomer who stood awkwardly next to Dutch. “Who’s that?”

“New recruit,” Maebh whispered. “Met him when he tried to rob us on the highway.”

“Rob you?” Karen repeated in disbelief. “And he took him in?”

“Guess he figured he was another lost soul. I think he sees some potential... He looks like a big gruff bastard, but I trust Dutch on this. He did threaten him for tryin’ it on us, to be fair.”

“O’course. Trustin’ Dutch ain’t my problem, but threatenin’ to shoot and rob y’all don’t sit well with me.”

“As much as I appreciate you defendin’ me, let’s just see what happens.”

Maebh quickly finished the conversation just as Dutch began to address the group. “Now, friends, I wanted to introduce you all to a new recruit for our family. This is Mr Bill...?”

He threw a glance at Bill, who cleared his throat. “Williamson.”

Maebh heard the small snort that William let out under his breath as Dutch continued on. “... Mr Bill Williamson, and Maebh and I met him out on the highway. He’s another man lookin’ for purpose, just like all a’you. And just like all a’you, he has somethin’ to offer. So for tonight, everyone who is here is gonna sit ’round the fire and celebrate a new member on our mission to find paradise. What do you think?”

“We’re always with you for a party, Dutch!” Davey cheered, already going to grab a bottle of beer.

“Boss’s orders!” Mac agreed, following his brother’s lead.

There were unanimous cheers from the gang, during which Maebh met the eyes of a very happy looking Karen. “Right, I ain’t happy he threatened you two, but I ain’t never gonna turn down an opportunity to drink.”

As Dutch asked for Mr Pearson to grab the boxes of beer he had stashed, the group began to disperse and William turned to the two women. “Is no one gonna talk about how that fella’s name is William Williamson? Even better, William Son of William? I can’t be the only one who thinks that’s hilarious.”

Maebh linked her arm into his before replying. “As long as you wait a few months to say that to his face, it’s grand.”

“Are you three gonna catch up or keep whisperin’ to each other?” asked an already half-cut John Marston. He wobbled up to them with beers in hand, fully intending on getting them locked.

Maebh took the beverage he offered with thanks. “But we’re goin’ t’have’ta drink two whole beers before we catch up with you.”

“You sayin’ I’m a lightweight?”

“Yeah,” Karen agreed, though not unkindly. “Because ya are. We say it all the time.”

John let out a raspy wheeze. “Well at least drink with me after insultin’ me.”

Happy to oblige, the group all sat around the campfire and began to work their way through multiple beers. As Dutch had requested, it became an evening of everyone introducing themselves to Mr Williamson, and the latter sharing what he could about himself. Even though she was surrounded by her family and friends, Maebh couldn’t help but feel the loss of Arthur’s presence on such a celebratory occasion.

Just over a week later, Arthur was happy to see those familiar tents and wagons as he steered Boadicea down the little pathway that led to camp. He had enjoyed him time away even if it was only a short trip, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn't missing the gang. It was late at night again he returned, choosing to spend as much time as he could with Eliza and Isaac. The first one he met was Marston, who sat at a table on the edge of camp cleaning a repeater with a cloth. He looked up as he heard the hooves on the dirt path.

“Welcome back, Morgan!”

“Good to see you, Marston.” He carefully eased his faithful steed to a hitching post and allowed her to get her breath back as he dismounted. Offering her an oatcake, he continued talking to his brother. “How’re things?”

“Good,” the younger man replied. “We’re all ready to go tomorrow. You made it back just in time.”

“Yeah well, figured I should get the most outta my trip.”

John got to his feet, gun cleaned and ready to head off to guard duty. “How’s the boy doin’?”

“He’s doin’ good. Gettin’ big!” Arthur smiled at the memory. “He seemed happy to see me.”

“I’m sure he was. And how’s Eliza?”

“She’s good too. I brought them some supplies and money to keep their stocks up, but she said they were managin’ just fine. She took it after some insistence.”

“She sounds almost as stubborn as you.”

“Just about.”

The sound of his name being called grabbed Arthur’s attention. William offered a small wave as he made his way over to the pair. “It’s good to see you again, pal.”

“You too, kid,” Arthur replied and gave the younger man a firm handshake. “How’ve you been gettin’ on?”

“Just preparin’ for the train really,” he replied. “Dutch wants us to try keep our heads down beforehand so we don’t make too much noise. How was your trip?”

“Good,” Arthur affirmed. “It was nice to have a little break from bein’ an outlaw. What are you still doin’ up anyhow?”

“I’ve got guard duty with Marston,” William explained, gesturing to the carbine slung over his shoulder. “We make a good team, don’t we, John?”

“Sure,” John mumbled with a raised brow. “I guess so.”

“Why are you pullin’ that face when I just gave you a compliment?”

“That’s the exact reason why I’m makin’ this face, Hennigan.”

“Look,” Arthur cut in quickly. “I’m gonna get some sleep before the heist tomorrow. You two try not to shoot each other, alright?”

At his insistence, the pair swiftly left to take up their spot amongst the surrounding trees. With the rest of camp either sleeping in their tents or passed out drunk, he was relieved he could sneak off to his tent and grab some much needed shut eye before tomorrow. Now that he was away from his son, it was back to the reality of the Van der Linde gang.

“What d’you think?”

Maebh looked up from her book to see William standing over her, one hand gesturing to his face. She blinked twice upon realising that his beard had been replaced with a dark blonde moustache on his upper lip.

“Had you told me you were goin’ t’do that,” she began, shutting her book after marking the page. “I would’ve said you’re mental, but you actually pull it off.”

William smiled at her compliment and turned to look at his handy work in the small mirror beside his shaving utensils. “Cheers. I figured I should go all out if I’m to look like a fancy salesman on a trip for business.”

“You definitely look the part,” she agreed and got to her feet. “Mrs Matthews and Miss Grimshaw said they would do my make-up for it.”

“Make sure Susan doesn’t go too dark on your eye shadow.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows that’s a look only she can pull off.”

Maebh stretched slightly, looking out at the rest of camp from their tent. It was mid afternoon in Iowa, the entire gang having just finished their lunch for the day. Trelawny was still at camp, agreeing to stay up until after they rob the train, considering he was due a cut for his services. Said train was due to pass through Saint Charles that evening, with a change of guard coming at the state line. While running her eyes over each member of camp, she spotted a familiar face coming towards her.

“Hey, Arthur!” she greeted the visitor.

Arthur had returned last night while she had slept, and he had been asleep all morning. Unwilling to disturb his much needed rest, she waited patiently to welcome him back home.

“Miss Maebh,” he offered in return, tipping his hat. “Mr Hennigan. How’re y’all doin’?” At that, William turned around and Arthur saw his new look on full display. “Damn, kid. How the hell do you manage to pull that ’stache off?”

“It must be my youthful good looks,” William replied. “Who fuckin’ knows.”

Arthur chuckled before idly stroking his thick beard. “I actually gotta shave myself, now that I think of it.”

“How was your trip?” Maebh asked, recalling her previous conversation with Bessie about his privacy.

“Good, good,” he replied with a small smile. “Always nice to get away for a little while.”

“Well you’re gettin’ thrown into the thick of it again now.”

“You’re tellin’ me. By the way, who’s the big bastard I’ve seen drinkin’ with Mac and Davey?”

“Awh Jesus, let me tell ye…”

With their departure time getting ever closer, the trio only spoke for a short while before Maebh went off to see Bessie and Susan. Though Bessie’s health had still been on the up and down, she was happy to help Susan do her make-up so that that she looked the part for the heist. With her makeup resembling something simple yet elegant, they helped her get into the outfit Trelawny had brought as part of her wealthy facade. The grey shirtwaist, decorated with white floral patterns and white lace, also included long sleeves that ruffled at the shoulders and a high neckline, beneath which she had stuffed a bandana for later use. Her skirts, matching in colour, were long and reached down to her black boots. Her footwear thankfully sported a small, chunky heel so that she wouldn’t fall on her face mid-robbery. A white brimmed hat covered her hair, that Miss Grimshaw tied up into a neat bun. On top of this, she wore a matching linen suit jacket and black leather gloves to complete the look.

“You look stunnin’ and pompous,” William later noted as she emerged from the tent. “It’s perfect!”

Maebh shook her head. “Thank you. I’m just happy that Josiah picked up something I can still move in. Plus, there’s plenty of room under my skirt for a revolver.”

“It’s also a good thing that crooked clerk will be able to get us on without bein’ checked for weapons,” he added before shrugging on his own dark grey suit jacket. He seemed happy and confident in his attire — a striped waistcoat, a white dress shirt, a purple tie, dark grey pants, and black shoes. “How do I look?”

“Great,” she complimented, surprised by how much older the attire made him look. “You’re the perfect amount of pretentious. I know I was originally worried ’bout how we were gonna pass for rich people, but we actually look really good…”

“Don’t we?”

“You two ready to go?” John asked, walking up to them briskly in his worker uniform. His eyes darted between them, awkwardly flitting up and down Maebh’s ensemble. “You two look, eh… good.”

“So do you,” she offered in reply. “I have to give you credit, you do look like a convincin’ worker.”

Finishing up the group, Arthur made his entrance. Maebh couldn’t help but give him a once over, noting the well-fitted suit that seemed to create a whole new Arthur Morgan. She tried not to stare — she really did, especially considering he could be so damn self-conscious for some reason — but her eyes took him in with genuine appreciation. He carefully smoothed the front of his grey coat as he joined them. Smartly dressed and beard neatly trimmed, he was ready to go.

“Y’all ready?” he asked before making eye contact with Maebh.

The intense gaze of his blue eyes caused her to blink and look away quickly, realising that he most certainly caught her staring, a gesture she hoped hadn’t made him uncomfortable.

“I think we’re set,” William answered, straightening his tie. “Where’s Trelawny?”

“Right on time,” John announced pointing to the tree line behind them. “And he’s got a friend.”

Maebh, relieved to have a chance to tear her gaze from Arthur, turned to see a coach commandeered by two men coming down the pathway. Trelawny waved from the driver’s seat. “Afternoon, gentlemen, madame!”

The coach came to a halt by the patch of grass where their horses were grazing. Trelawny joined them while the driver waited in his seat.

“You all look wonderful,” Josiah noted before glancing back at the driver. “Don’t mind Andrew — he’s a friend. Are we ready to go?”

“Indeed we are,” Dutch called as he briskly walked to join them. “Are we all clear with the plan?

Arthur nodded firmly. “You’re gonna take John up to the station on Norwalk where he can sneak onboard, the coach will take myself and Maebh to Saint Charles where we’ll board, and Josiah will drop William on the outskirts of town so it don’t look like we’ve arrived together, before he leaves our horses at the quiet spot where we’ll start the robbery.”

“That clear with the rest of you?” With unanimous positive answers received, Dutch clapped his hands. “Then get your guns and let’s rob ourselves a train!”

They each hurried excitedly to their tents, grabbing revolvers, pistols, and sawn-off shotguns that they could sneak onboard. Once they were armed, they set out on their mission. John and Dutch were the first to leave, quickly mounting The Count before galloping out of camp. William climbed atop Dantès while Trelawny grabbed himself one of the spare mounts. Together, they gathered the horses belonging to Maebh, Arthur, and John, then quickly led the animals out on to the main road.

All that remained were Arthur and Maebh. Still feeling a bit awkward having been caught staring, she accepted the hand he offered to help her into the coach. Sitting together in the back seat, the driver carefully steered them out of camp and onwards to Saint Charles.

“Well,” she sighed, looking out at the open country. “This is a bit weird.”

“How you mean?” Arthur asked curiously.

“I’m not used to takin’ a coach to a heist, especially in such fancy clothes.”

He hummed at her admission. “I know how you feel. I don’t mind wearin’ a suit, but the coach and driver is a new one.”

“I think you look really nice in the suit,” she blurted before realising what she had said. “Eh, y’know, you pull it off really well.”

He seemed to take her compliment well, but she wasn’t quite sure if she had made him uncomfortable or not. He scratched at the hair on the back of his neck and offered a humble response. “Thank you. It’s uh, always nice to get a compliment off a good-lookin’ woman.”

Her hands clasped each other in her lap, tapping rhythmically with the movement of the coach. “You sound like you’re bein’ overly generous, Arthur.”

“Trust me, I ain’t.” He paused, gesturing a hand up and down her form. “I meant to say, you look lovely in the outfit Trelawny picked out. Not that you don’t usually look good, I just ain’t used to seein’ ya this dressed up.” He cleared his throat before mumbling something self-deprecating under his breath. “Apparently I ain’t good at givin’ compliments.”

“Thank you.” She noted the slightly awkward air, and placed a reassuring hand on his forearm, which had unexpectedly given her a small sense of ease and comfort at the touch. They could both probably do with a change of subject, and she was more than happy to oblige. “At least we know we both look the part together. Speakin’ of, I guess we should come up with some names if they ask, right?”

“I suppose it ain’t a bad idea.” He pondered it for a moment before throwing out a suggestion. “How about Mr and Mrs Barnes? It’s a common enough name.”

“Sounds believable. I think, if I’m honest, you could pull off the name Henry.”

Arthur let out a bark at that. “Henry Barnes? If that’s the case, then you’re gonna be called Margaret.”

“I know you’re jokin’, but I think it works.”

“Then that’s what we’ll go with, my dear Maggie.”

The journey was thankfully not as awkward as Maebh thought it would be. Arthur was very much happy to fill the silence with just the right amount of conversation. Most of it involved their plan for the train or the last time he was required to dress up for a heist.

Upon arriving in town, the driver left them to their own devices and they strolled into the train station arm in arm. Inside, Arthur handed their tickets to the clerk, who quickly patted them down before allowing them through the doors on to the platform. As planned, he completely ignored their weaponry. She quickly spotted William sitting alone, barely acknowledging them as they walked through the doors. Technically speaking, they didn’t know each other in their current getups, so it was better to act as though they had never met. There were another three people on the platform, presumably boarding the same train as them. Arthur kept a close eye on his pocket watch (another part of Trelawny’s costume apparently) and the familiar chugging of the train could be heard in the distance as it approached the station only fifteen minutes after their arrival.

“Right on time,” he noted as it slowly came to a screeching halt on the tracks. “You ready, Maggie?”

“Of course, my darlin’ husband,” she answered in her best southern accent and kept a firm hold on his arm. “Let’s hope Marston got on alright.”

She felt his gaze burning into her, and looked up to see his blue eyes shimmering with amusement. “Since when can you pull that off?”

“I guess I’m full’a surprises.”

“I guess so, my darlin’ wife.”

The train was, as planned, brought to a stop in Saint Charles station. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed William getting to his feet and waiting for the vehicle to stop. Once safely parked on the tracks, a steward appeared from inside to usher them on, calling out their destination to alert passengers waiting on the platform. He threw a glance at the tickets Arthur offered, before replying. “You’re to be seated in the front carriage, sir. Have a pleasant journey.”

Arthur thanked him and began to lead them through the carriage passageways to the front of the train. Inside, several couples and travellers where already taking up numerous spots. All dressed to the nines, Maebh suppressed the urge to stare and quickly sat where her partner had ushered them. Across the aisle, William took his own seat on a lone bench and focused his attention on the view out the window. Arthur completed the trio, taking the outside seat once Maebh had settled herself down.

“All good?” he asked under his breath, his low timbre a surprisingly calming sound in its own right.

Appreciating the concern and eager to keep up appearances, she patted the hand he kept rested on his thigh. “Dandy.”

He returned the gesture by flipping his hand over and interlocking their fingers in a careful hold. “Did you spot Marston?”

Right on queue, the door at the front of the carriage opened and John appeared in full worker’s attire. As he walked down the aisle and passed their seats, she made brief eye contact with him. “Well, seems he made it on. Everythin’ is goin’ well so far.”

“Let’s make sure it stays that way, alright?”

She had very little time to contemplate that her friend, Arthur Morgan, was currently holding her hand with a tenderness that was new and unfamiliar and a tad daunting. She had assured him that such contact for the sake of the heist was entirely okay, but she was surprised to feel a little nervous at his touch. The rational part of her mind was frowning at her blatant display of overthinking, but dare she say she enjoyed feeling his fingers intertwined with her own? She had seen Arthur beat men nearly twice his size into submission, seen him unload shotguns like he barely felt the power behind the gun’s blow, and seen him break in the wildest of horses along their travels. And yet it was the timidness and the gentleness he offered when carefully wrapping his rough hand over hers that sent her unexpectedly reeling.

Her gaze wandered out the window as the train began its journey along the steel tracks below them, the countryside passing slowly by as they neared the quiet strip of land where the robbery would take place. The familiar hint of anxiety was hopping around her stomach as she realised the robbery was imminent. Despite the awkwardness, and despite her own confusion around the subject, she clung to his hand and clung to the small sense of comfort it brought amidst pre-job nerves.

“You doin’ alright?” she heard him ask. Turning her eyes from the outside world to the man sitting next to her, she was met only with concern.

“Just standard jitters before we y’know, eh, do the job.”

“We’ll be alright,” he assured her. “We got a great team at work here. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout. You just gotta keep her head and you’ll be fine.”

She felt her lips pulling into a smile, his firm yet soothing words seemingly always there to help her doubt her own doubts.

“Would you go over the plan again with me?” she asked in a hushed tone, aware of nearby passengers.

He leaned into her slightly, ensuring that anyone who was curious enough to nose would merely see a couple having a private conversation. “Right well, once we start approachin’ the quieter land, John will give William a nod to cause a distraction. Once that’s goin’ on, he’s gonna get himself to the driver and force him to stop the train before subduin’ him. He’s gonna hop off the train and head to the back to the baggage car. Then once we stop, you and I kick off the heist while William heads to the last carriage without givin’ anythin’ away. He robs from the back, us from the front. We then meet in the middle, get off the train, call for the horses, and bolt back to camp. Just remember, these are innocent folks, so we don’t want any of ’em gettin’ seriously hurt, or worse.”

“Got it, got it.”

With the plan clear in her mind once more, they sat calmly for another twenty minutes, knowing that the time for action was surely upon them. John made himself known in the cabin, passing through once more and giving the trio a very subtle nod to let them know that he needed the distraction now.

“What was William’s plan again?” Maebh asked Arthur under her breath, readying herself for action.

“He never said,” Arthur replied, eying her sibling curiously. “But he better do it now.”

As if hearing his queue with Arthur’s words, William let out an exaggerated gasp and spoke out in the most ridiculously posh British accent she had ever heard. “You! Worker!”

Maebh looked over at her brother in surprise, as did the rest of the passengers.

His finger was pointing squarely at John, who stood there like a deer in headlights. “Uh, yeah?”

“You got grease on my suit!”

The passengers looked to John for a response, but all he could muster was a stuttering apology. “Uh, I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t see how I could’a—”

“You don’t see how you could have?” William repeated, punctuating every word with utter distain. “Are you inept, man? You are covered in grease from head to toe and you don’t see how you could have stained my suit? You brushed past me and left an entire oil slick in your wake!”

Maebh stared between the pair, mouth agape and not even remotely faking any of her shocked reaction for the sake of their innocence. She genuinely thought this whole thing was hilarious. Her brother was full on shouting now, on his feet and making intense demands.

“Do you have any idea how much this cost me?” he screamed, voice cracking as he got more agitated. Suddenly, he addressed the crowd. “Fear not, fellow passengers! I shall see to it that the expense of cleaning my suit will be taken from this greasy raccoon’s measly wages!”

“Sir,” John began, visibly frowning. “If you could just calm down—”

“I will not calm down, you miserable wretch! I will have you removed from your post for this heresy!”

“You show him, mister,” Arthur mumbled, mostly to himself, very much getting a kick out of this interaction. “Make a big scene.”

As William’s shouting grew louder, the passengers’ mumbles grew more confused, and John grew more embarrassed, another member of staff came hurrying into the carriage. Judging by his dress, Maebh assumed he was someone of higher position than John at least.

“What seems to be the problem here, sir?” he asked, trying his best to remain civil despite the mayhem that was occurring in front of a live audience.

William whipped around with the elegance of a panther and pointed a shaking finger at John again. “This man is leaving a trail. I demand you find a new worker immediately. I came all the way from North New York and I demand better, sirs! Since when do Cornwall Kerosene and Tar employ slugs upon their trains?”

The steward looked stunned. “A trail?”

“Of grease and filth and poverty!”

Visibly confused by the altercation, he turned to John with a tired expression. “Son, did you not bathe before your shift?”

“Uh, it’s just train oil, I swear.”

“Train oil?” William screeched and threw his arms up in the air. “Train oil? Are you calling me a liar, man? I have never in my life dealt with such hypocrisy and disrespect, not in any of my journeys across the settlements in this country! I swear on my dearest mother’s grave — God rest her soul — that this man is the most petulant pustule I have ever had the displeasure of meeting! And now my suit is ruined when I have to do business in the next state over! What am I to do, sirs? What am I to do?” The steward had no time to respond before William visibly wobbled on his feet, breathing deeply with wide eyes. “My God, I think I am about to faint. All because of this greasy, husky, mongrel hick of yours! Oh my—”

As quick as a light, he was out. William went tumbling to the ground, feigning unconsciousness and rousing screams from some of the other passengers. Chaos ensued. The steward tried to shake him awake, but he remained on the ground, mumbling incoherently about ‘suing the raccoon for damages’. The steward panicked, stumped for what to do before he asked if anyone onboard was a doctor. As one man answered his call, Maebh watched John quickly slip out of the room.

“And there’s our distraction,” Maebh announced, nudging Arthur with her shoulder. “You ready?”

“After a performance like that?” Arthur laughed. “I feel like I could take on a damn army.”

“Inspirin’ as always.”

Seconds later, the train suddenly jerked, sending some of the standing passengers tumbling to the floor. Maebh clung to the seat in front of her and the train screeched in exertion as it forced to stop, the metal-on-metal ringing out and piercing her ears. The crew and passengers looked dumbfounded, some peering out the window to see where they were. With the sun setting in the distance, the world outside looked dark and empty.

“Ready?” she heard Arthur whisper as he pulled his bandana on over his face.

“Ready,” she confirmed, and quickly covered hers as well. “Let’s do this.”

With the experience that came with multiple hold ups and years of gunslinging, the pair got to work. On his feet in an instant with his hidden pistol revealed, Arthur yelled at the top of his voice. “Everybody stay calm, and nobody’s gettin’ shot!”

“This is a robbery, fellas!” Maebh added before whacking the stunned steward out cold with her sawn-off shotgun. “Everythin’ you got goes into the bag! Anythin’ worth a cent, is that clear?”

In the midst of the confusion, William was up in an instant and sprinting into the next carriage over to head to the back of the train.

The passengers cowered in their seats, visibly taken aback by the strange turn of events that sent their normal day spiralling downwards. They begged and pleaded to be left alone, that they weren’t bad people, they didn’t deserve this, but Maebh paid them no mind, walking down the aisle and shoving the bag into their laps until they threw whatever they had inside. Some hurled abuse, but it fell on deaf ears that had heard far worse. Arthur stood over her the whole time, ever the imposing figure sporting a pair of fiery eyes to scare anyone who refused into submission.

“Let’s make this quick, people,” he snarled over her shoulder and at a man whose stubbornness nearly got the better of him. “We ain’t got all day and we don’t wanna hurt none a’ya!”

With the front carriage quickly cleared, they hurried into the next one down and repeated the process over again. She waved her gun in the air, instantly having their full attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery! Everythin’ on y’all — money, valuables, that nice lookin’ necklace — into the bag, or you’ll get a bullet in the brain!”

“Do as the lady says! We ain’t here to play goddamn games!”

“The sooner you hand it over, the sooner we’re outta here!”

Their threats worked like a charm for the most part, bar one obstinate husband who received a broken noise for his unyielding attitude. Just as they finished the second carriage, William came through the door, face covered with a bandana and his own bag filled with the results of an apparent successful hold up. John appeared behind him was his own take slung over his shoulder.

“We all good to go?” William asked, voice muffled from the mask.

Maebh quickly tied the bag shut. “All done on our end.”

“We ain’t nothin’ short of efficient, fellers,” John noted, slightly out of breath. “So let’s get.”

“Thanks for your cooperation today, folks!” Arthur called over his shoulder as the four of them hopped off the train, three heavy bags of money and valuables coming with them. As they each released a loud whistle, their horses came galloping from a short distance away, safely hidden where Trelawny had left them.

“Good job today,” Arthur praised them, hurriedly climbing atop Boadicea and patting her neck. “Real good job.”

“A fine job, my husband,” Maebh chuckled happily. “Very fine.”

“You are one mighty supportive wife, Mrs Barnes!”

As she was briskly strapping her bag to Dullahan’s saddle, a bullet suddenly whizzed overhead, cutting through the air with a howl. For a split second, the air escaped her lungs in a heaving gasp. It had narrowly avoided her and her horse, causing her to yell out in surprise. “What the hell was that?”

“Is that the law already?” she heard Marston shout back.

“They don’t look like no law to me,” Arthur replied before grabbing his repeater and firing at the attackers. Maebh looked to the distant tree-line, seeing five riders coming from the brush armed to the teeth and faces covered with green scarves and hoods. Their harsh shouts and cries could be heard clearly on the wind, but they had little time to contemplate these new arrivals. Arthur downed one with ease, the bullet tearing through his chest and seemingly ending his life. “I think we just stole some other gang’s take, boys!”

“You recognise ’em?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen these idiots before!”

William was quick to draw too and managed to shoot another rider off his horse. “These shots are goin’ t’bring a whole load’a unwanted attention!”

John quickly agreed. “Then let’s get the hell outta here!”

“We split up then meet back at camp,” Arthur decided as he let off a final shot that hit its target. “Marston, with me! Hennigans, you two stick together, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” William replied hastily. “Fágfaimid, Maebh!”

Maebh asked no questions, choosing to grasp her horse’s reigns tightly in her hand and urge her into a gallop. “Maith an cailín, let’s go back home now, alright? Fágfaimid!”

As the number of their pursuers dwindled down to two, the four outlaws didn’t hesitate to ride as fast as possible. Maebh pushed Dullahan to the limit, the animal breathing and voicing the effort as she and William tore through a tree line and out into an open field. Arthur and John had already disappeared in another direction, but she couldn’t afford to check for them with a curious glance over the shoulder now. Guns, though less so than before, were still heard going off behind them. All she could do was focus on her horse, focus on her brother, and focus on making it back home safely.

It didn’t take long for the shots to stop. Racing and winding through forest and field alike was something with which she was familiar. As the crack of bullets died away, the thundering beating of hooves on earth slowed its rhythm. The horses’ breathing slowed with relief, as did the wind whipping through her hair. They eased the animals into a trot, noting the stillness of the night around them. There were no lawmen, no gangs, no one following them. With calming words, they assured the other that they were alright.

They were safe, and they made it out with the money. The relief in her heart was a welcome feeling of which she would never tire. When these jobs went well, they were considered a great success, but while she felt pride and joy knowing they made it out, she knew they could be snuffed out with simply one well-timed bullet.

The thought made her think of Arthur and John riding back to camp.

The siblings soon found themselves tired and alone in Madison County’s endless plains, slowly making their way home, and hoping that their friends had made it too.

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