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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! 😊 can you write fem!reader being Hamish's beautiful, helpful daughter who builds a bond with Arthur and later falls in love with him? She tells Hamish and he's supportive. On their last encounter Hamish tells Arthur to take both heartbroken reader and Buell with him.

Holy crap, this was an awesome request! Again it’s one that would make for a fantastic multi-chapter fic. That being said, this one’s nearly 20 pages. Happy reading!

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Read on AO3

Warnings: none. Does a TB free Arthur count?

“Hi, dad,” you say, walking into the small cabin, your arms stuffed with herbs you collected from the garden.

“‘Lo,” he replied, walking over to the sink, his crutch holding him up in place of his leg. You’re used to him doing this every morning as his fake leg gets uncomfortable and he never sleeps with it on.

“What are your plans today?” your father asks, pouring two cups of coffee. You tell him you want to take a ride out to town, pick up some supplies. “Valentine or Annesburg?” he asks as the cabin sits nearly halfway between the two towns.

“Valentine,” you say. You’ve never been fond of Annesburg. Not that Valentine is much better, with the muddy streets that never dry and the sour people. At least the air there is clean. As a mining town, Annesburg’s air always makes it feel harder to breathe.

“Take Buell then, will you?” your father asks after handing you your cup. “He could use the ride and I am going to work on fixing the shed out back.”

You nod. You’d rather take your own mare, the cherry bay thoroughbred, as Buell can be temperamental, but you’re used to his disposition.

After a quick breakfast, you get ready and head out, giving Buell his head. He prefers to canter along the trail which is something about him you like. He’s always had a lot of energy, even though it’s gotten your father into a spot of trouble every once in a while.

As Buell canters along, your mind wanders freely. Because you’re stuck in your head, you don’t notice the black bear standing in some bushes 20 feet off the path. Buell does though and he slows to a nervous walk and begins snorting and stomping his feet.

“Buell, cut it out,” you say, coming back to the present. He rears a bit, still snorting, and a low growl catches your attention. That’s when you see the bear. “Buell, relax! It’s just a black one. If it were a grizzly, I’d be screaming with you.”

You pat the horse’s neck, trying to calm him. Black bears are usually harmless, being smaller and more timid than their grizzly cousins. However, Buell panics more and he suddenly rears up, causing you to slide off, your butt slamming onto the hard earth. The bear turns and runs just as Buell darts off

“Goddamn it, Buell!” you groan as you lie on your back.

“Need help, ma’am?” a rough voice says as you sit up. Looking towards the speaker, you see a man astride a horse. The first thing you notice about him is his blue eyes and the hardened look of him. It’s clear from his skin, hair and clothes that he lives the majority of his life outdoors.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you look at the state of yourself. Your left hip smarts as you stand and you look around, finding no sign of Buell. “Maybe,” you finally say to the man. “My father’s damn horse is a pain in the ass on the best of days.”

“Yeah, think I saw him take off that way,” the man says. He reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out a lasso. “I’ll go get him. You wait here.”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you begin but the man takes off. Feeling stupid and helpless, you stand on the trail, your hands on your hips.

Your father, Hamish Sinclair, raised you by himself after your mother died when she gave birth to you. Hamish made sure you were self sufficient, that you wouldn’t need anyone’s help to survive. One time when you were little, you asked him why he taught you to hunt, fish and forage when other girls your age were being taught how to knit, sew and clean. You can still recall what he said.

“Those things are all fine and useful, but I ain’t gonna be around forever, and I ain’t gonna tell you to wait for some man to appear to do all this for ya when I’m gone. I want you to be able to take care of yourself.”

You’ve always been grateful to your father for this. He’s also the best man you know. While he sometimes has his fits after suffering a nightmare containing memories of the war, he’s never been a danger to you. He was the best father you could ask for as a child, teaching you everything you’d need to know as an adult and providing you comfort and safety, and now that you’re an adult, he’s your best friend. You cannot count how many nights you’ve been out in his boat fishing or in the woods hunting down dinner.

Before long, the man comes back with the lasso around Buell’s neck. “Got your horse,” he says.

“Thank you, sir. I could’ve gotten him myself, you needn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

“Ain’t no trouble, miss,” he says, removing the lasso. Buell shakes his head, calmed at this point.

“Well, thank you. I don’t have anything to pay you with, but… perhaps I could take you to town and buy you a drink?” you say. Most women you know would never invite a man to accompany them alone to town, but your father made sure you could defend yourself.

The man smiles a bit. “Sure, I was on my way to Valentine anyways.”

You smile and mount up, perhaps a bit more gingerly than normal as your hip still throbs a bit. On the way to town, you and the man make some small talk. He’s friendly but clearly holding back when you ask him about what he does and where he’s from. When you look at him again and notice how heavily he’s armed, a voice in your head tells you he must be an outlaw, but you quickly brush that thought aside. Outlaws don’t come up this way much anymore as they’re a dying breed.

Once in Valentine, the two of you hitch the horses outside the saloon and go inside. You pull out your money and buy two beers, one for yourself and one for the man. You take a sip and then look at him.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Y/N Sinclair. And you?”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

“Ah, the man with two first names,” you joke.

“Excuse me?” he says.

“Nothin’. Nevermind.” Over the beers, you and Arthur talk more. One beer quickly turns into two, then three, and finally four. He becomes a bit more loose lipped as he drinks more, but still doesn’t tell you outright what he does.

“I just ride with a big group. We don’t really stay in one place long. Ain’t never had the luxury, I guess.”

“Sounds tough,” you say. “Not being able to plant your roots anywhere.”

“Maybe, but I like it. Ain’t never felt free being stuck in one place.”

“Sounds like you never tried it long enough to really know,” you reply and he chuckles. You look outside by this time and see the sun’s nearly set. You still haven’t gone to the store. “Shit, I’m sorry, Arthur, but I gotta go. I meant to get some things and take them home. My father will be expecting me.”

“Oh, well of course.” Arthur stands and tips his hat to you. “Well, thank ya for the drinks, ma’am. I hope I ain’t oversteppin’ bounds here, but… you’ll be safe ridin’ home?”

You nod, feeling a warm sensation in your chest at the thought that this stranger was worried about your safety. Or maybe the sensation was just your tipsy state. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

“A’right, I believe ya. Um, well… would it be rude for me to ask when you’re comin’ to town again?” There’s a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. As you look at him, you suddenly realize how handsome he is.

“Probably in a few days. Or I could just come and meet you here, have a proper round of drinks.” Okay, you really have had way too much to drink if you’re asking this guy in a not-so-subtle way on a date.

He smiles though. “I’d like that.”

“Then it’s settled.”

A little while later, you leave the store. Arthur’s horse is long gone by this point, but you’re already excited to see him again. It’s been a long time since you met a man who had manners and respect for you with no expectations of any favors in return.

When you get home (much later than you planned), Hamish doesn’t mention it. He’s used to you being out for long periods as you’re much like he says he used to be. Before he lost his leg, he was a wanderer as well. It was how he learned to hunt and fish. His lifestyle demanded it. For some reason, you don’t tell him about your meeting with Arthur.

A few days later, you set off for Valentine again. Again you failed to tell Hamish the truth. You’re not sure why. It’s not like your father would be upset or irritating about it, telling you to be careful. He’s always encouraged you to make your own choices, but for some reason you just couldn’t get the words out. Maybe it’s because you don’t see the point of it. After all, this thing with Arthur is probably going to be very short-lived.

When you meet Arthur in town, you feel your heart skip a beat. It makes you feel stupid as you think you’re like some ridiculous school girl. Arthur waves to you though from the porch of the saloon, a small smile on his face. He’s leaning his shoulder against one of the pillars and damn does he look good doing it.

Once inside, the two of you grab a table and order a few rounds of drinks. To say you get carried away is an understatement. Before long, you’re a giggling, drunken mess. Arthur comes back from the bar, slopping down in the chair and chuckling.

“Barman’s cuttin’ us off,” he says.

“What? Why? That guy doesn’t ever turn off the tap for nobody.”

“Well, let’s just say this ain’t my first time gettin’ plastered in his bar. I came in here some time ago with a friend and… well, I don’t really remember much of that night.”

“Oh my God, I heard about that! Were you one of the fellas in the can-can line?”

Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yes! I’m surprised ya heard about that!”

“Yeah, the gunsmith told me!”

Arthur smiles a bit. “I didn’t know you shopped at the gun store.”

“Have to. After all, how am I supposed to live? Gotta catch my own food.”

His eyes twinkle a bit. “Damn. You’re tougher than most women I known. Only women tough as you are the ones I run with.”

“Oh? And what kinda people you run with?”

Arthur’s clearly drunk because he tells you in a quiet tone that he runs with a gang. It consists of both men and women, and you think he mentions a small boy but you’re not sure as you’re pretty drunk yourself.

“Hmm. They sound like interesting people,” you say. “I wouldn’t mind meeting them.”

He shakes his head. “No. No, if you don’t mind, I… I wanna keep you separate from them. The other day when you said I ain’t ever been in a place long enough to know the joys of it, that stuck with me. I… I might like to try that, and maybe ya can help me.”

You blush and look down. “Perhaps. I wouldn’t mind that at all, Mr. Morgan.”

His smile stretches and his hand suddenly slides over yours. Your skin burns where he touches you. Before you can stop yourself in your drunken state, you lean over and place your lips against his. He stiffens at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, after a moment, he deepens the kiss, his free hand winding into your hair.

Suddenly someone whistles loudly at you two, and you look over to see a man applauding the show you’re providing.

“Let’s get outta here,” Arthur grunts in your ear.

You take his hand and run outside, but you don’t go to the hotel. Arthur clearly wasn’t done with the kiss as he takes you to the side of the saloon, plants you against the wall, and kisses you hard. Your hands wind up in his hair, nearly knocking his hat off, and his hands slide over your back, pressing your body to his.

As things progress and you can feel yourself slipping over some kind of threshold, you suddenly pull away, despite not wanting to.

“Arthur, are we moving too fast?”

He looks at you, his eyes surprisingly clear. “Maybe a little, but… damn Y/N, I find I’m really likin’ ya.”

You blush and, oh lord did you just giggle? You’ve never giggled in your life. “I really like you too, Arthur,” you finally admit. He smiles and his lips crash to yours again. For the next few moments, the two of you makeout. Arthur presses your back against the wall and it’s only when you lift your leg to wrap around his waist that Arthur finally pulls away.

“We better not get too carried away,” he says softly.

You let out an almost disappointed breath, but he’s right. The last thing you need is to end up in a bed with him when he’s practically a stranger.

“I’ll see ya soon?” he says softly and you nod.

Tugging his collar a bit, you press yourself to him again. “I better.” You set a date and then Arthur gives you one last kiss before he walks away, leaving you flustered.

**********************************************

Meeting up with Arthur in Valentine once or twice a week becomes a regular. It was only after a few more dates with him that you ended up sleeping together, and he performed wonderfully. The two of you had taken a stroll outside of town and it just sort of happened. After that, the walls still standing between you came tumbling down and Arthur told you the full truth about his lifestyle.

Arthur would never tell you but he’s extremely grateful that you don’t hold his outlaw ways of life against him. He told you a bit about Mary and how poorly she treated him and looked down on him for it. Not long after that, Arthur told you about his son Isaac and how he’d died with his mother. It broke your heart, but you understood why he’d been hesitant to sleep with you the first few dates you had.

You still haven’t told your father about Arthur, though you’re sure he suspects you’re up to something. You haven’t left the house so often for such long periods since you were a teen. However to his credit, Hamish says nothing. He’s always respected if you chose not to tell him something, even if he wanted to know.

You can’t put your finger on why you still can’t tell your father about Arthur. The two of you have been together long enough that you’d like to introduce the two, but for some reason you just can’t bring yourself to tell Hamish. You’ve told Arthur a bit about your father, but he’s never pressed for further details.

Things were getting quite serious between you and Arthur. He’s never introduced you to his gang, though not for lack of you wanting to. He said that there’s something about you that makes him want to dig in roots somewhere and maybe, just maybe, try for a more normal life. This highly flattered you when he admitted it, but you wouldn’t mind living with him.

No one has ever made you feel this way before, or done the things Arthur’s done. You couldn’t count how many nights he’s asked you to lie under the stars and name them with him. The days you were without him became long and boring, and the time with him was too short but the best you’ve ever had. There’s no doubt about it. You love Arthur Morgan.

The next date you set to meet him though, he didn’t appear. Nor did he show the night after, or the one after that. You wrote letters addressed to Tacitus Kilgore (upon his request), but they were never answered. Of course you know how much danger he’s in because of being an outlaw and being chased by Pinkertons. Thoughts of them catching up and killing him plagued your mind.

You decided after the fourth week of no word from him to search. Unfortunately you had no idea where his hangout was, but you recalled him mentioning the swamps around Saint Dennis. You spent several days down in the swamps, searching for any sign of Arthur. You were out so long you knew Hamish would begin to worry, but you were worried about Arthur. Where the hell was he?

You stumbled upon an old abandoned manor on the outskirts of the swamps called Shady Belle that had signs of being recently vacated, but nothing that definitely said Arthur was here. The only thing you found that made you suspect he may have been here was a letter addressed to “Uncle Tacitus”. It’s a unique enough name that you wondered, but there was nothing else.

Finally you went to Saint Dennis, despite hating the town, and investigated. You heard about a gang that came through around the same time that Arthur missed your date, and things had gone badly. Two members had been killed, one arrested, and the rest vanished. It was suspected they managed to leave on a boat, but there was nothing that was sure. One thing was clear though: Arthur was long gone.

It’s been three weeks since you left Saint Dennis. Hamish asked many questions upon your return but you couldn’t answer him. The thought of never seeing Arthur again was too devastating. You have no idea if he was one of the two members in the city that was killed, or if he was on a boat. Of course, the thought that he might still be in the states but decided you weren’t worth more of his time crossed your mind. That idea hurts the worst.

The only thing you can think of doing now is to try and go on with your life as though you never met Arthur. That seems impossible though because, just before Arthur disappeared, he mentioned wanting to spend the rest of his life with you. You almost wish he’d never told you as it just makes the pain of losing him worse.

Hamish has been a great comfort though. He respects your privacy enough that, even though he’s no idea what happened, he helps take care of you. On the days when you’re too miserable to barely even get out of bed, he takes care of your chores and brings you coffee. Somehow, he seems to know you lost someone you loved though. As you lie in bed, feeling miserable and exhausted, he sits down at the end after giving you coffee.

“You know, after I lost your mother, I thought I’d never recover. There were more days than I care to remember when I just wanted to lie down and give up.” You look up at Hamish. He’s almost never spoken of your mother. He stares softly back at you. “But you were so young and dependent on me, you kept me going. If it wasn’t for you, I know I wouldn’t have made it. You’re much stronger than I’ve ever been though, so I know you can make it through anything. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you.”

This makes you smile for the first time in days and you sit up to hug him. “Thanks, dad.”

“Of course, baby.”

*********************************************

A few days later, you return home to the cabin. Today’s the first day since you figured Arthur was gone for good that you’ve been out for a long time. The back of your horse is laden with pelts, as well as the carcass of a particularly large stag you killed. When you hang up the skins to dry and set down the carcass for Hamish to come and dress later, you head inside.

“Hey, baby,” your father says in greeting. He’s pouring a glass of whiskey, which you know what that means. His leg’s bothering him more than usual.

“You okay, dad?”

“Oh yeah. Buell just took my damn leg again. Snake spooked him and he bucked me off.”

“Again? How’d you manage to get your leg back?” you ask, knowing how immobile Hamish is without his wooden leg or crutch.

“Some fella helped me out. He was real nice too. You might meet him, I invited him to come fish with me.”

“Oh yeah? When?”

“Probably in the next couple of days. Think you’d like him. Name was Arthur.”

Your heart stops when you hear the name. “What was his name?”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” Hamish turns and looks at you standing rigid in the doorway. “What is it?”

“His name… Arthur Morgan? He’s alive?”

“Baby, what are you talkin’ about? Are you okay?” Hamish takes a step towards you when he notices the tears. The moment he does, you completely break down. He comes over and sits you down at the table. “Baby, what is wrong? Have you met Arthur?”

“Met him? Dad, I… I planned to spend the rest of my life with him.” Finally you come clean to Hamish about your relationship with Arthur, and about why you’re so upset about hearing the name. “I thought he was dead, or he just changed his mind or something.” You put your head into your hands and sob. After a few moments, you look up at Hamish. “Dad, what am I supposed to do?”

He sighs heavily. “Do you still love him? If you found out that he changed his mind, what would you do?”

“Well, I’d wanna know why, but I hope that I’d respect him enough to let him go on. But I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him, dad.”

“I felt that way about your mother. Still do, matter of fact. Well, when he stops by to fish with me, you two can talk.”

“Wait, does he know I’m here?” you ask, unsure if you’re afraid or hopeful.

“Course not. I had no idea before now the two of you were acquainted.”

For this, you’re grateful. Part of you thinks that if Arthur knew you were here, he’d never come here again. A few days pass and you’re sitting at the table, drinking coffee, when someone knocks on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Hamish says. He hobbles over and opens it. “Arthur!”

“Hello, Hamish. You said we could go fishin’?”

“I did. However, I wanted to introduce you to someone first. Baby?” Hamish gestures for you.

Fear grips your gut. Do you really want to see him knowing he could have easily abandoned you? You’ve no idea where he’s been all these weeks. Had he been lying when he said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you? So many questions flit through your mind and your chest tightens, making you want to cry.

“Come on, baby,” Hamish gestures for you again. With a resolved sigh, you walk over to the door.

“Hello, Arthur,” you say quietly and finally dare to look up at him.

You never thought you’d see Arthur looking the way he does now. Angry, perhaps, or scared, but not relieved and on the brink of tears.

“Darlin’?” he says quietly. “Y/N, you… I been lookin’ everywhere for ya.”

“So have I, Arthur.” Tears spill down your cheeks and you reach out for him. He quickly takes your hand in both of his before pulling you in for a tight hug. He holds your head to his chest, his heart drumming in your ears, and he kisses your head.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Hamish says and he slips outside through the backdoor.

You and Arthur hold each other for a few moments, silently reconnecting before you pull away.

“Arthur, where have you been? I don’t know how long I looked for you.”

“I know, I know. I went to Valentine as soon as I got back, but no one there knew where you were.”

“Got back? From where?”

Arthur sits you down at the table and explains about the failed bank robbery and his trip to Guarma. “I don’t think I woulda lasted long down there,” he says, “it was nothin’ short of hell. But the thought of coming back to you kept me going.” He squeezes your hand affectionately. “I meant it, you know.”

“What?” you say.

“When I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with ya. I still mean it, darlin’. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Of course I will, Arthur. I mean, hell you’ve already won over my father, and the two of you didn’t even know I was involved. That’s nearly impossible, by the way. My dad’s never liked any of my previous relationships, not that I blame him anymore. Most of them were… idiots.”

Arthur grins and leans over to kiss you. You return it enthusiastically, feeling like a piece of you that’s been missing has finally been replaced.

Hamish walks in shortly afterwards. “So, you two lovebirds ready to go fishin’?” You both nod and stand, heading outside and clambering into the boat. Hamish gives Arthur his spare lure and then Arthur rows the boat out into the middle of the lake.

After a few hours and after watching your father get pulled into the lake by the monster pike he’s been hunting for three years, Arthur finally catches it and Hamish gets the pleasure of bashing the fish’s head in.

Arthur rows the boat back to shore and he helps you out. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he walks you up to the cabin.

“Well, that sure was some magnificent fish,” Arthur says to Hamish.

“He sure was. Hey listen, you ever wanna go huntin’, stop by. I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t argue,” he gives you a wink.

Arthur chuckles. “Sure, I’d like that. What you say, darlin’? Wanna go huntin’ with me and your ol’ man?”

You smile and reach up to kiss him. “I’d love to, but… maybe you two boys can get to know each other better?”

Arthur smiles and nods. “Okay. I’d like that, even though I’ll miss ya.”

“Oh hush, Arthur, you’ll be seeing plenty of me.”

Arthur gives you one last kiss and then bids farewell to Hamish before leaving. The moment he closes the door, Hamish walks over and puts his hand on your shoulder.

“I’m real happy for ya, baby. Arthur seems to really love ya. I knew from the instant I met him he was a good man, and I can see he’ll make a good husband.”

“Dad! He hasn’t even proposed.”

Hamish looks at you with a sly smile. “Give it time, sweetheart. I reckon… two more weeks and he’ll ask me for your hand.”

You roll your eyes and turn away to help Hamish with the fish.

***************************

Over the next two weeks, Arthur stops by nearly everyday to see you. Sometimes he sits at the table and Hamish joins in, asking Arthur questions about his life. To your surprise, Arthur doesn’t hide anything about his past. When you asked him why, he said he wanted your father to know everything about the man who loved his daughter more than anything in the world.

Your relationship with Arthur has fully rekindled and even grown. If you thought before his trip to Guarma that you’d like to spend the rest of your life with him, it’s become a need now. You have to be with him. Life without Arthur would be like someone telling you that you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Arthur’s been much more romantic with you too. Now that he doesn’t have to hold any secrets, he has no barriers to worry about. Most days, he asks you to join him in a simple ride or a walk. One time, he’d visited when Hamish was out hunting, so he invited you to swim to the island and lie in the sun with him. You said yes, but when you were about to jump in, he prodded your shoulder. When you turned around, he was stark naked.

“Arthur! I didn’t know you meant swim naked!”

“Well of course, darlin’. Figured you and I could have some fun on that island.”

You couldn’t help but blush but you stripped down to nothing and the two of you raced to the island. There, Arthur really showed you how much he missed you there. It was a day you’d never forget.

The night comes when Arthur takes Hamish up on his offer to go hunting. Hamish heartily agrees and Arthur kisses you hard before the two of them leave.

“Now don’t you worry, darlin’. I’ll bring your pa back in one piece.”

“You better. Now make sure he comes back with two legs.”

Arthur chuckles and as he walks out behind Hamish, you smack his ass. “Hey! None of that in front of your ol’ man!”

You laugh and close the door. A few hours later, Hamish returns alone.

“Where’s Arthur?” you ask.

“Oh, he had to go take care of something with his gang,” Hamish says, but you notice he doesn’t really look at you.

The next day, you wait for Arthur to visit, but he doesn’t. Nor does he come the next day or the next. You’re beginning to get nervous, wondering if he’s been in some incident like the one that led him to Guarma. Hamish senses your fears and he encourages you.

“I’m sure he’ll be around shortly. He’s probably just busy. Sounds like his gang’s in a lot of trouble.”

“I know. He’s been telling me how his leader Dutch has been losing his mind.”

“Yes, but like I said, I’m sure he’ll be around shortly.” He gives you a suspicious wink.

Just as Hamish predicted, the next day Arthur comes by. Hamish invites him in to see the wolf they encountered the night they went hunting. Arthur admires it for a moment, then he turns to you.

“Darlin’, will you come with me? Wanna take you somewhere.” You agree and the two of you mount your horses. He takes you up to Calumet Ravine near the Wapiti Reservation. He stands silently near you for a while at the north end of the lake to watch the sun begin to set, his hand curled around yours.

He’s been standing so long, you begin to wonder what he’s planning.

“Darlin’,” he finally says. “The end is coming for my family. My way of life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s Dutch. He’s… losin’ his mind. He seems to be on a suicide mission and plannin’ on takin’ as many of us with him as he can. So many people have left already, and I’d be surprised if more don’t end up doing the same.” He continues looking off towards the sunset. “My point is, darlin’, is my time with the gang is coming to an end. One way or another, this is nearly over. When that time comes, I’ll need somewhere to go. Maybe I’m being optimistic, but I was hopin’... Hopin’ I could try for a life with you. If you’ll have me.”

Arthur finally turns to you and he reaches into his satchel, pulling out a tiny box. He opens it and reveals a small silver banded ring with a sapphire set into it. You gasp, but he continues. “Darlin’, I went with your father to do more than hunt the other night. I went to ask him for his permission to marry ya. So… Y/N Sinclair, will ya marry me?”

You laugh and hug him. “Arthur, nothing would make me happier.” He holds you tight and you hear a faint chuckle rumble in his chest.

“Thank ya for this, darlin’. Now let me put this on.”

He pulls away and takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto your finger. After inspecting it, you reach up and kiss him.

********************************************

The moment you got home from your ride with Arthur, Hamish demanded to see the ring. He spent longer than was necessary looking at it, though you knew he did it to unsettle Arthur, which made you laugh.

“Dad, you can relax. It’s just a ring.”

“Just making sure he did right by my baby girl.” He finally released your hand and smiled at both of you. “Well, I’m real proud of you both.”

Only a few days later, both you and Hamish were awakened late in the night by distant sounds. They appeared to be gunshots and it was causing Hamish’s anxiety to spike. Your mind immediately turned to Arthur and that he was in trouble, but Hamish told you it was unlikely. A few hours later, however, someone knocked on the door. You opened it and revealed Arthur, looking horrible. He was beaten badly and the way he stood suggested he had injured ribs, maybe even broken.

“Arthur! What happened?” You grabbed his hand and dragged him inside, sitting him down gingerly in the chair.

“Things… fell apart.” Hamish brought him a strong whiskey and Arthur told you both the events that led up to the gang completely falling apart. He ends it by telling about how the Pinkertons discovered the gang’s hideout.

“It’s over. It’s all over,” he says miserably. “Everything I… I sacrificed everything for. None of it matters.”

Arthur looks beyond devastated and it breaks your heart. Ignoring the fact that Hamish is watching, you lean down and press Arthur’s head into your chest, hugging him tightly. He sniffs loudly and clutches you so hard it almost hurts, but you say nothing.

“Dutch, he… he let Micah trick him. He was rattin’ us out to the Pinkertons all along. He… he nearly killed me and Dutch just stood there and watched. I been with him for more than twenty years and Micah’s only been there for six goddamn months. It was like none it meant anythin’ to Dutch.”

You stroke Arthur’s hair, trying to comfort and sooth him. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I can only imagine how much you tried to prevent that from happening.” You let him cry for a moment into your shirt, and then you speak up again. “But I want you to know that you always have a place with me. 20 years from now, I’ll still be here right beside you. I just want you to know that.”

Only now do you realize you’re also crying. After a few moments, Arthur releases you and gingerly stands up. He suddenly cups your cheek and strokes a stray tear. “Thank ya, darlin’. The best choice I ever made was to ask you to marry me.” He kisses you so gently, but behind it is all the emotion he feels. All the pain for his gang, but the gratitude he feels for you.

Hamish clears his throat and the both of you look over at him, blushing a bit. He just laughs though. “Well, son, sounds like you’re in need of a family. You’re more than welcome to find one in me and my daughter.”

“Thank you, Hamish,” Arthur says and he walks over to him and holds out his hand. Hamish takes it.

“Honey, you look like you’ve been to hell and back,” you say, putting your hand on his shoulder. “Come on, you need to rest.”

With that, you gently guide Arthur to your room and get him settled into your bed. You start to clean him up, dabbing at his face with a damp cloth to clear the dried blood. Afterwards, he looks some better. You then position him with some extra pillows to cushion his injured ribs.

“Get some sleep,” you whisper and kiss his head. He suddenly grabs your hand.

“Stay with me?”

He looks so desperate, you can’t refuse, so you nod and climb under the covers with him and settle gently against his chest. His hand winds into your hair and he sighs.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I love you more than you could know,” he says softly.

“Well, if it’s as much as I love you, then I think I do know.” You kiss his neck and close your eyes.

****************************************

A few weeks have passed and Arthur has healed well, both physically and mentally. The grief that came from his gang falling apart was extremely difficult for him to get over, but you did everything you could to help him. There were times he was unusually quiet, and other times when he was angry. You were patient though as you knew these were the steps he had to take in order to recover from his grief.

Hamish was the best source of help to you in how to handle Arthur during the most difficult times as he acted the same way shortly after losing your mother. Arthur doesn’t tell you but he can never repay you for how patient and understanding you are.

When he’s physically recovered to the point he can withstand going hunting and riding, Hamish suggests you both take Buell and go out and have a little trip. This turns out to be the best medicine Arthur could have gotten, going out into the wild and being alone with you. You both end up in Big Valley and spend over a week there. Arthur ends up sleeping with you a lot, but you don’t mind as you know it’s acting as an outlet for him, and that he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t have extremely strong feelings for you.

He manages the physical demands of the trip well enough and by the time you get back, you’re both laden down with so many pelts and meat, Hamish says he won’t have to go hunting for six months.

“Well, I’m glad the two of you are back. There’s been signs around of a huge boar and I found some cattle gored.”

A few days later, Hamish spots the boar by the outhouse. He tells you and Arthur to grab your horse and follow him. You and Arthur ride your horse as Arthur’s died the night his gang fell apart. With Arthur riding behind, you track the boar up to a trail where Hamish loses it because it splits in two. He tells you to follow one path and he’ll take Arthur, so you direct your mare up the hill.

“What is that?” Arthur says as something appears in the trees, lying on the ground. He dismounts and inspects it. “Damn boar’s goring wolves now!”

Suddenly you hear gunshots on the next hill behind you. “Dad!” you scream, recognizing the sound of his gun. Arthur quickly jumps onto the back of your horse and you kick her into a canter. When the trail appears, you see Hamish and Buell being chased behind the hill by the boar, which is easily as big as a yearling buffalo.

“Damn thing’s after him,” Arthur grunts as you call for Hamish. Slamming your heels into your mare’s sides, you gallop down the hill and behind the one Hamish vanished behind. Just as you round it, you hear him cry out.

“Dad!” you cry. A second later, he comes into view. Hamish lies on the ground with a nervous Buell standing close by. You scream to him again and leap off your horse, running to him and kneeling by his side.

“Damn boar got me when Buell threw me,” he grunts. You see a thick trickle of blood coming from his half-leg.

“Dad! It’s okay, we’ll get you fixed up.”

“Nah. Nah, baby it’s… it’s too bad for me. ‘Sides, if I had to choose a way to go out, it’d be this way. Doin’ the things I love with the people I care for most.”

Arthur kneels down beside you, his hand on your back. “Hamish.”

“Take care of her, Arthur. My girl’s tough, we both know that, but she needs something to keep her steady. Be there for her since I can’t be anymore.”

“Dad!” you gasp, tears pouring from your eyes, your chest painfully tight. You reach out and take his hand, but he squeezes back gently.

“It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay. I’ll say hi to your mama. Do me a favor though. Take Buell with ya. You already know how stubborn he is, but he’ll do ya right.”

“I promise, Hamish. We’ll make sure Buell stays with us and I’ll watch out for Y/N. I’ll make sure she’s happy.”

Hamish smiles weakly, but his eyes are glazing over. “You’re a good man, Arthur Morgan. Thank you.”

He lets out a long breath and then the light in his eyes go out. His hand in yours goes slack. A wail escapes your throat as the realization that your father’s dead hits you. Arthur wraps his arms around you, pressing you to his chest.

Suddenly a piercing squeal whips through the air. Arthur bolts up and the two of you see the boar that killed Hamish. Rage floods through you, but Arthur pulls out his pistol.

“This is for Hamish,” he growls. The boar roars and charges. Without hesitating, Arthur unloads his bullets and you watch as they plunge into its skull. Only inches from Hamish’s body, it collapses, barely missing Arthur.

“Fucking thing,” you hiss and then you turn back to Hamish’s body. You stare at him, wishing, hoping that he’ll open his eyes or stir. “Dad? Dad, please. We got the thing. It’s dead.”

You feel a weight on your shoulder. Arthur’s hand squeezes gently. “Come on, darlin’. We need to get him home, get him buried.”

The thought breaks your heart even more and you can’t stand to think of putting him into the cold earth. Arthur seems to understand. He goes over to Buell and leads him over, talking to him gently. Then, with great care, he lifts Hamish’s body and drapes it over Buell’s back.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s just get your pa home.” His voice seems strained as he helps you stand up. He then starts giving you instructions, keeping them very simple. “We’re going to get on our horses, Y/N. Let’s take it slow, darlin’.”

You listen and obey him mindlessly. Your thoughts are fogged and you’re not entirely sure what’s going on. All you know is you want to scream, to rip your chest open because it can’t contain this pain any further.

When the two of you get home, you dismount and then instantly fall to your knees, sobbing. Arthur comes over and kneels down, taking you into his arms. “He was a good man, darlin’, and the best father. Most people don’t get that luxury.” You sob openly into his shirt, clinging to it so tight you’re surprised the fabric doesn’t tear.

“Ya know,” Arthur continues, “for you to experience such pain means you were able to enjoy the best of times.”

You look up at Arthur, barely able to see him through tears. “Promise me you’ll never leave me, Arthur.”

“I promise,” he whispers and kisses your head.

Afterwards, you manage to get the strength to stand up and Arthur helps you find a good spot to bury your father. You find it not far from the cabin by a patch of wildflowers. It’s where your mother is buried and you know he’d want to be buried here too.

Arthur does the majority of the work to dig a suitable grave for Hamish. You help as much as you can, but you have to take several breaks as you’re overtaken by the pain.

By the time the sun sets, Hamish is buried and Arthur sets down an engraved stone to mark it, declaring Hamish as a loving father and friend. It couldn’t be better. As you stand near the grave, silently crying, Arthur takes you in his arms again.

“We’ll get through this, darlin’. You helped me when I lost my family, the least I can do is the same for you.”

“At least I haven’t lost all my family,” you sniff and snuggle a little closer to him.

“I’ll never leave ya, sweetheart. I’ll always be here for ya.” He kisses your head again and the two of you stand silently. As the sky grows darker, you see a glimmer of hope in the thought that you have the rest of forever to spend with Arthur, the family you chose to have despite being deprived of the one you had before. Perhaps from here on, you can build a bigger one with him by your side. Hamish would want nothing more for you, after all.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #awkward asks

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roads-rise-to-meet-me · 6 years ago

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*:slides in and whispers:* please feed me hcs of ariadne and kieran.. and the little family they start together 🌺🌹🌸💐💕❤

AHHHH sure thing!!!! ;-: <3 Gonna be long so fair warning rip

Westward Bound- So the two of them decide to head west together shortly after Arthur leaves and Kieran gets to stay. - Arthur had planted the idea in Kieran’s mind that he should go with Ariadne and build an honest life elsewhere. - She was a little unsure at first, but ultimately the idea of a clean slate and an honest living was all too tempting for her. - They left the gang in the hands of Ariadne’s most trusted associates, packed up everything they had to their names, and set off out west on horseback.- They rode for a while, camping out under the stars at night, hunting and fishing for their meals, until eventually they came across a nice enough little town and rented a room in the saloon. - They stayed in that room long term while they got all of their ducks in a row. - Ariadne already had some money; a parting gift from the gang. But they needed a bit more before they were comfortable purchasing property.- Kieran took jobs as a stable boy in the town and at some of the surrounding ranches; wherever his services were needed, he went. The special way he had with horses started to make him into a bit of a local celebrity. - Ariadne took small jobs around the community here and there, but most of the time she was out hunting and selling the pelts for money. Hunting was in her blood; her grandfather is an old trapper that travels around the states. You might have heard of him… ;) - They settled into a routine, and slowly but surely started filling up multiple coffee tins with cash. - Kieran was riding home back to the saloon one evening when he came across an elderly man and his ailing horse out on the trail. He assisted the man in getting his horse back into town, and the stranger was grateful. Enough so that he insisted on paying Kieran for his help despite what little he had to his name. - Kieran walked away from the incident with a few dollars, a golden pocket watch, and some jewelry; a couple of necklaces, and most notably, a ring. - He sold the other items off for money, as the old man had intended, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the ring. So he kept it in a pocket in his shirt, just in case. - Kieran and Ariadne’s hard work finally came to fruition the day they bought their ranch. A house, a barn, and a few paddocks, all in need of some TLC. Oh well, they already made it this far! - They put in the work, fixed the place up, and after a while K&A Ranch was finally finished and ready to operate. - They already had a few horses. Kieran had Branwen, and Ariadne had her own stallion, Theo. But if you think she had left her other hoof-children behind you’re crazy. (Ariadne’s Hoof-Children) - They took care of their horses, and Ariadne ended up building a coop and bringing home a few chickens. Part of the property was set aside for a garden patch where the pair began to grow their own produce.- More animals were added to their growing menagerie. Goats, cows, sheep. Even a peacock turned up near the chicken coop one day and never left. - His name is Hank and he follows them around like a dog. Meet The Duffy’s- Kieran finally proposed a little over a year after they got the ranch. - It was around 2 AM and they were both sitting down against the wall of Rio’s stall. The first foal on their ranch had just been born, and they had been up all night helping Rio deliver her baby. - It was a testament to how far they had come together; from a couple of outlaws trying to survive out in the woods, to proper ranch owners, raising horses. Living.- Kieran figured there was just one thing missing from the otherwise picture perfect happy ending, and Ariadne was already saying yes before he was done popping the question. - They had a small ceremony attended by a few of the friends they had made around town, and survived through all of the questions one might ask a newly married couple. - “So, what about kids?” - They just smiled and laughed and waved it off. That was a discussion for later on, they said. - And it was…At least until it wasn’t. Cause it wasn’t even a month into their new married life when Ariadne started showing all the signs she remembered so well from her first pregnancy. And she was positively terrified.- The messy ending to her relationship with Blake had left her scarred. What if it really was her fault that her son hadn’t made it? And what would Kieran do? Would he react the same way? - Kieran knew she was afraid, and he reassured her that no matter what happened, he wasn’t going anywhere, and they were going to get through it together. - They began to prepare for the baby. And as the due date drew closer, they discussed what they would name him/her. They were enthralled to find that they were both on the same page for a boy’s name. - “Arthur.” - 9 months seemed like they flew by, and Kieran and Ariadne Duffy welcomed to the world a bouncing baby…Girl. - They named her Morgan. - Morgan Duffy got her daddy’s dark brown locks, but her freckles, and her button nose, and the way it crinkled up when she was mad was all her mother.- She was born into a life in the saddle and took to it like a duck to water. Kieran took her for rides around the countryside on Branwen even before she could walk, and taught her to ride at an early age by ponying her around on Casanova. By age 8 Morgan knew how to tack up, mount, and ride a horse with no assistance. - Ariadne taught her to read and write, just like she had with Kieran after her and her gang had rescued him. She also taught Morgan how to shoot a gun and hunt. More than anything, Ariadne wanted her daughter to be self sufficient. - Morgan developed a fiery personality, and was never afraid to speak her mind; a quality that filled her parents with both pride and exasperation depending on the social setting. - One day, she announced that she had a request to make. - “I want a baby brother or sister!” - Kieran and Ariadne, who already considered their hands full with the ranch and their heavily opinionated blessing of a child, told her “Maybe someday.” - Someday came a lot sooner than previously intended and the family prepared for the arrival of Brayden Arthur Duffy. - Brayden was born with a full head of auburn hair coupled with eyes that resembled his father’s in every way. - He received the same teachings that his older sister had when she was younger, and Morgan was always around to put her own spin on it. - However it was clear from an early age that Brayden had his own distinct personality. Morgan liked to wander the surrounding countryside all day once her chores were completed, but Brayden was content to stay closer to home. He preferred to spend his time hanging out with the animals and could always be found with either a book, or a pencil and journal in his hands. - Kieran and Ariadne settled in nicely into domestic bliss with their two kids, their home, and their animals. It was a quiet life, but it was the kind of life both of them preferred over one spent on the run. <3

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead online #rdr oc #rdr oc: ariadne foster #kieran duffy #ariadne foster x kieran duffy #oc x canon #rdr: the foster gang #cometoceantrenches

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catherindonald · 5 years ago

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Nose-Twisting Nasturtiums

By Susan Belsinger

Plant Profile Family: Tropaeolaceae Scientific name: Tropaeolum majus Common names: nasturtium, Indian cress, trophy cress, trophywort Native Habitat: Peru, parts of South America Plant Type: Annual Growth Habit: Dwarf bushy cultivars grow from 8 to 18 inches in height, while the climbers can easily reach 6 to 10 feet, or more. Hardiness: Hardy in frost-free locations Light: Best in full sun; can tolerate a few hours of shade, which produces more leaves with fewer flowers Water: Moist but not wet; will tolerate some drought Soil: Friable and porous garden loam, well-drained soil; does well in containers Propagation: Seeds in spring

“Nasturtium is an herb which for me has three uses: it lights sober herb beds with its bright colors of orange and yellow; all summer it decorates salads with leaves and gay flowers; and in the autumn it provides green seeds for pickling. Does it not earn for itself a place in an herb garden?”

—Annie Burnham Carter In An Herb Garden

One of my very favorite flowers that I grow in all of my gardens for many reasons are nasturtiums, and I affectionately refer to these garden rowdies as “nasties”. They are easy to cultivate and effortlessly fill in garden spaces with their mounds of fun foliage even before their showy colors appear. The unusual foliage has rounded, wavy-edged leaves that are attached to their stems from the underside, directly in the center of the leaves, so that they resemble fairy umbrellas. These center-stemmed leaves radiate veins from a center dot looking somewhat star-like and range in various shades of green: grey-green, bright green, blue-green, and variegated. The spurred, trumpet-shaped flowers are available in a palette of bright colors from tropical creamy yellow, peach, and coral to vivid primary yellows and reds, in addition to knockout oranges, golds and even mahogany. Many are splashed or dotted with colors and my new favorite, ‘Bloody Mary’, has a different design and range of colors on each bloom. It is said that due to the shield-like form of the leaf and the helmet-shaped blooms that the botanical name derives from tropaion, the Greek word for “trophy.”

No wonder Monet cultivated them liberally throughout the gardens at Giverny, where he captured the mounding masses of jewel-colored blooms in numerous of his famous paintings. Thomas Jefferson planted nasturtiums in his garden every year and lamented when he couldn’t get seed enough for a bed of them measuring 10 x 19-yards. In Green Enchantment by Rosetta Clarkson, she writes of a Dr. Fernie commenting on “nasturtium flowers giving out sparks of an electric nature at sunset.” Richard Mabey of The New Age Herbalist notes that, “It is said that on hot summer days sparks are emitted from the heart of the flower due to its high phosphoric acid content.” Others, however, have attributed this phenomenon to an interesting optical illusion produced by the interplay of our eyes and the contrast of the flowers and foliage at dusk. For further explanation, read this interesting, informative article about nasturtiums: https://heirloomcottagegarden.weebly.com/blog/nasturtium-tropaeolum-majus

We owe our gratitude to the Spanish conquistadores for bringing the fiery-colored Tropaeolum minus back to Europe from South America more than 500 years ago. The species is a vine that can easily grow about 8 to 10 feet and likes a fence or trellis for support, while the more common nasturtium cultivars grow in mounds or trail along borders, spill over walls or over the edges of containers. Nasturtiums start easily from seed in average soil and full sun; I put them in early in my Zone 7 garden (about the same time that I put in early greens) in late March, early April. I like the ritual—going about the garden with my seed packs—poking the fat bumpy-round seeds (which sort of remind me of a small chickpea) in the cold earth with my finger along the edges of the kitchen bed. I plant them anywhere from 8 inches (for masses) to a good foot apart. Keep them well watered; however, do not fertilize too much or you’ll get massive leaf growth with few blooms. Harvest leaves regularly to keep them bushy.

I just love that their name combines the Latin nasus for “nose” and tortus for “twisted” describing how our nose twists or wrinkles when we inhale their spicy scent. In The Fragrant Path by Louise Beebe Wilder she agrees, “ …perhaps the individual odours of the summer garden are derived from certain plants which persons of hyper-sensitive nasal organs may turn from in disgust. I call these plants Nose-twisters, because the rough and heady scent of Nasturtium, which seems to have in it something bitter, something peppery, and a vague underlying smoky sweetness, is representative of them.”

In the kitchen, you can use both the fresh foliage and flowers to add a pleasant hint of heat and pungency (this dissipates when cooked so I use them mostly fresh) to many summer dishes. The leaves are high in vitamin C and add a peppery cress-like flavor to salads, sandwiches, green sauces, or they can be shredded and tossed with pasta, rice, couscous or chicken salad, or chopped as a topping for pizza.

The blossoms have the same pepperiness as the leaves, but are milder with a hint of floral scent. They make excellent containers for cold salads—egg, chicken, and vegetable—as well as cheese spreads. Since they are a bit fragile when filled, I tend to put them on a slice of vegetable or bread in order to pick them up easily. Whole flowers can be used in salads or as garnishes; vinegar flavored with nasturtium flowers is lovely in color and interesting in flavor; or cut flowers and leaves into chiffonade (thin ribbons) and blend with butter, or toss with egg salad, noodles, vegetables, or fish. The unopened buds, marinated in wine or vinegar, make an unusual refrigerator pickle. Seeds are harvested and pickled and used as a substitute for capers.

To harvest leaves, pick them and remove stems, wash and use like lettuce. For flowers, pick them with long stems and keep them in a glass of water until ready for preparation. Rinse blooms gently and shake or pat them dry. Pull the bloom from the stem and use whole or gently tear into separate petals. While they can stand cool weather, they will succumb to the first frost.

Sources Belsinger, Susan and Arthur O. Tucker. 2016. The Culinary Herbal. Portland, Oregon: Timber Press.

Belsinger, Susan. 1991. Flowers in the Kitchen. Loveland, Colorado: Interweave Press.

Carter, Annie Burnham. 1947. In An Herb Garden. New Brunswick, New Jersey: Rutgers University Press.

Nasturtiums (Tropaeolum majus). Retrieved from https://heirloomcottagegarden.weebly.com/blog/nasturtium-tropaeolum-majus

Wilder. Elizabeth Beebe. 1996. The Fragrant Path. Point Roberts, Washington: Hartley & Marks Publishers, Inc.

Photos courtesy of the author. 1) Bloody Mary; 2) Alaska series; 3) Nasty bouquet; 4) Flower and herb butter

Susan is a culinary herbalist, food writer, educator, and photographer whose work has been published in numerous publications. She has authored a number of award-winning books. Her latest book, The Culinary Herbal: Growing & Preserving 97 Flavorful Herbs was co-authored with the late Dr. Arthur Tucker. Susan is passionate about herbs and her work, sharing the joy of gardening and cooking through teaching & writing, and inspiring others to get in touch with their senses of smell & taste.

Nose-Twisting Nasturtiums published first on https://marcuskeever.blogspot.com/

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houstonlocalus-blog · 8 years ago

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Houston’s Arts Reach: The Overall Conversation

Debtfair at Art League Houston. Photo: Art League Houston

On any given day, one can drive or walk around Houston and spot a dozen tantalizing public projects, exhibitions, and creative endeavors throughout the city. From new city engagement with public parks, bike trails, university campuses, and museum properties, there’s a plethora of signs of our artistic driven initiatives and dozens more to be found. Houston is an incredibly supportive arts city and more sustainable than its metropolitan counterparts. Of its many museums, institutions, nonprofits, galleries, and private institutions, there are myriad national and international projects on the burner building exposure for local and regional artists. Not all projects in this state are presented only for other Texans to see. We all know the story of the big fish in the little pond. However, as early back as the 1930s, Houston has been working on cross pollination projects with groups and organizations from around the world to build on that exposure and present our talents abroad and throughout the country. It’s certainly not a transcendent idea to build up the city’s arts reputation by exposing our creatives to other parts of the world, but there has been some exhilarating efforts recently. As a major museum, it’s mandatory to keep the international conversation fresh and at the forefront. Same goes for many of our veteran institutions and nonprofits. Spaces like DiverseWorks, Project Row Houses, FotoFest, and Art League Houston have worked diligently to maintain this ongoing conversation.

In 1948 The Foundation of the Contemporary Arts Association (CAA), now the Contemporary Arts Museum, became known within Houston’s playing field. Their first round of exhibitions focused heavily on internationally known artists such as Vincent Van Gogh, Arthur Dove, and Joan Miro. The idea was to keep Houston validated on a national and international level and to continue to educate the local collector base and everyday art viewer, combined with the efforts of the Museum of Fine Arts. CAA, MFAH, and private collections such as The Menil Collection and their family efforts continued to grow and gain momentum and putting Houston into play worldwide. For the last 70 years the efforts to create a constant dialog has persisted as the primary motivation. Today, this can be discovered by just flipping through an art history book. As the years go by, the context of the dialog changes as the climate of the art world evolves. The presenting realm becomes vast, complicated, and difficult to navigate in different directions. The exhibition spaces as well as the artists surrounding them must remain nimble and dialed into these directions, ever changing and ever moving. Factors such as financial temperature, regional support, and overall stability certainly play a prominent role into what can and can not happen. However, remaining on a swivel with a 360 view is key and is certainly a pleasing quality we have recently seen in Houston.

Lina Dib, “Artist Time Management Machine” at Debtfair at Art League Houston

Patricia Alvarez is an anthropologist and filmmaker whose scholarly research and creative practice develops in the folds between ethnography, critical theory, and the documentary arts. Her most recent works converge on issues of gender and ethnic representations in neoliberal, post-authoritarian Peru. Alvarez’s films and installations have been exhibited in national and international film festivals and galleries across the US and Puerto Rico. She completed her Ph.D. in Cultural Anthropology with a Designated Emphasis in Film and Digital Media, and her BA in Anthropology from the University of Puerto Rico, Rio Piers, and Alvarez is currently working a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Center for the Study of Women, Gender and Sexuality at Rice University. Her creative practice speaks volumes and while currently a Houstonian, she has aggressively traveled the last several years, presenting her stunning short film Entretejido, an observational-ethnographic film that weaves together the different sites and communities involved in making alpaca wool fashions. The film explores the varying representations of indigeneity that emerge out of these encounters, which both challenge and reproduce historically-rooted racism. A sensorial immersion into the textures that compose this supply chain from animal to runway, the film brings viewers into contact with the ways objects we wear are entangled in racial politics and histories. Much like her other works, there is depth and diversity in the overall delivery. Once through the documentary movements of the film, contemporary art delivered through fashion is brought to light as an art form cultivated through industry and branding, but originating from small Peruvian villages. Cutting from village-based storefront sewing circles to high end fashion runways, local craft becomes high art, while the film remains a story of heritage and new beginnings.

Debtfair at Art League Houston

Over the past 6 years, Art League Houston has consistently reformulated its programming to incubate diversity and multinational reach. In 2015 Occupy Museums, a New York City based activist and progressive arts organization, and ALH joined forces locally on a recent project, Debtfair. The collective invited local artists to submit original works for a group exhibition based on their own economic realities as a way to explore how artists think about the concept of debt in relation to their own art-making practice. Debtfair, is an ongoing artistic campaign to expose the relationship between economic inequality in the art market and artists’ growing debt burdens, explores the idea that all spaces function with a layer of extraction just below the surface. Here in Houston, the project received mixed reviews upfront due in part to the city’s unique artistic financial structuring, but quickly cultivated a sweeping discourse over the next year presenting the project and Houston collaboration in Chicago and Warsaw, Poland. With momentum growing, the New York-based group was chosen to participate in the Whitney Biennial and brought along with them the Houston chapter, represented by ALH. “Michael Peranteau and I were excited to learn that the Debtfair project by Occupy Museums had been selected for the 2017 Whitney Biennial,” Visual Arts Director Jennie Ash eagerly commented. “It has been great to see a project that we believed in travel internationally to the Museum of Contemporary Art in Warsaw last year, and now be developed to reflect artists from around the country for an exhibition like the Whitney Biennial.”

Included in Debtfair and its international exhibitions was multidisciplinary artist and anthropologist Lina Dib. Her installations and compositions range from the experimental to the ethnographic and investigate socio-technical and ecological change. Dib is an affiliate artist at the Topological Media Lab at Concordia University in Montreal and Tx/Rx labs in Houston, and a research fellow at the Center for Energy and Environmental Research in the Humanities and Social Sciences at Rice University, where she also teaches. Dib and her practice are versatile and have landed her exhibitions at such institutions as Lawndale Art Center, Houston; Yerba Buena Gardens, San Francisco; MOP Projects, Sydney, and The Museum of Fine Arts Houston. Dib’s sculpture “Artists Time Management Machine (ATM Machine)” features a 1970s modified time card punch machine. Each time card, as it would be at the workplace, rests alongside in a unified slot system and punched with phrases such as “Writing,” “Fucking Off,” and “Thinking I Should Have Been a Doctor.” The sculpture reads more as an installation element, part of a larger picture, and I found this intriguing about the work. Her piece certainly maintained as one of the stronger pieces in the Houston collection and represented Dib’s ongoing archaeological creative process and complimented Occupy Museums’ participation at the Whitney.

Harold Mendez, “When the night is going wrong or when the day is full of empty promise.” Courtesy of the artist and Tiffany & Co.

Former CORE Fellow and Houstonian Harold Mendez was also selected to participate in this years Whitney Biennial. For the Whitney, in collaboration with Tiffany and Co., Mendez presents a sterling-silver pre-Columbian death mask, now a high end conceptual object, paying homage to his ancestors. “Let X stand, if it can for the one’s unfound (After Proceso Pentágono) II” features a crumpled and marred photo of a man’s head being yanked, punched, pulled, and attacked by unknown assailants from outside the frame. Mendez successfully recreated the photo by the Mexican art collective Grupo Proceso Pentágono. Both pieces show his depth and minimal approach of subject and object and his extraordinary grasp on culture, history, and political temperature. His time spent as a Core Fellow benefited both Mendez and the Houston community with his ongoing projects and collaborations with such spaces as Project Row Houses, Artpace, Sicardi Gallery, Lawndale Art Center, and a dozen more side projects. Now spending most of his time in LA, he continues to maintain a solid presence across the country with his exhibitions and begins on his MacArthur Foundation project in Havana, Cuba in 2018.

Houston sits on a solid foundation for new opportunities to emerge everyday. The creative community within the region is fertile and advantageous with a great many key supporters at hand. While at times still honing our national and international arts coverage through the glossy press world, the unique local structure allows flexibility and bold outlets for our artists and institutions. The benefit of this has been generating a strong community with prevalent diversity throughout exhibitions, collaborations, and the direction of local artists. The overall conversation Houston continues to provide is a catalyst for drawing in creatives from neighboring cities and countries and is ever present within much of the curations being set forth. Growing programs and festivals such as DiverseWorks’ Diverse Discourse and Mitchell Center’s annual CounterCurrent, which just concluded this weekend, are prime examples of these successful partnerships that import and export talent. Houston is the third largest arts city in the country and it is certainly satisfying to see our vision projecting past the foreground and beyond the horizon from so many local talents.

Houston’s Arts Reach: The Overall Conversation this is a repost

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catherindonald · 5 years ago

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Harbinger of Spring Look-Alikes: Dead Nettle & Henbit

By Susan Belsinger

The first spring wildflowers, herbs, and weeds are popping out all over. Two that frequently appear together are both members of the mint family, Lamiaceae: dead nettle (Lamium purpureum) and henbit (Lamium amplexicaule). Since they often grow in a patch together, are about the same height, and both have bright green leaves and purplish-pink flowers that bloom at the same time, at first glance, they are often mistaken as the same plant. However, held side-by-side and inspected a bit closer, they are very different in appearance. Similarities also include how and where they grow. Their early spring blooms are some of the first food for honeybees, and the tubular shape of their flowers attract hummingbirds.

Both of these spring harbingers prefer sunny spots where the land or garden soil has been disturbed, along roadsides and in meadows and lawns, and will tolerate some shade. They are often found growing side-by-side and intertwined together in patches in moist, fertile soil. I’d say that they grow anywhere from 8-to 12-inches tall, sometimes being the same height in a group together, though occasionally the henbit stretches just a little bit taller than the dead nettle. The henbit is a bit rangier and will even sprawl along the ground, whereas dead nettle is upright.

Henbit (left) and dead nettle (right) have obvious differences when compared side by side.

Harvest unsprayed, tender spikes early in the season—both the leaves and flowers are edible— and be sure of the correct identification of the plants before you eat them (dead nettle has some look-alike plants before it flowers). Both plants are easy to identify once they bloom. I find that many of our weedy harbingers taste green and earthy; I get strong mineral flavors from nettles and henbit similar to chickweed. Although they are members of the mint family, there is no mint to their flavors. If the stems are tough, then I remove them; if tender, I often add them to my Wild Greens Salsa Verde recipe (see below) since it will be pounded or pureed.

Wild, edible greens are powerful, good food and offer a variety of flavors for free; they are nutritious and usually high in vitamins and minerals. In Europe, the gentle word “potherb” is given to wild greens that offer the knowledgeable forager herbs for the cooking pot. Both of these plants can be eaten raw in salads, sandwiches, wraps, and salsas, or cooked in soups and sauces, or combined in a mess o’ greens with other potherbs or green leaves like kale, spinach, chard, tat soi, etc. I prefer to combine them with other greens rather than eat them in quantity on their own.

Dead Nettle (Lamium purpureum)

Dead nettle

Sometimes called red nettle, purple nettle, and even purple archangel, it is thought that this is called dead nettle because its leaves resemble stinging nettle (Urtica dioica), though they do not have the stinging characteristic of Urtica. Spotted nettle (Lamium maculatum) is closely related, however its leaves have whitish spots or blotches.

The foliage of purple dead nettle is wrinkled and hirsute (hairy), and the edges of the heart-shaped leaves have rounded teeth. The leaves grow opposite one another on their noticeably square stems, mostly on the lower stem and at the top (leaving the center stem bare), where they overlap and give the appearance of being overcrowded. Foliage is a medium, bright green although depending upon growing conditions, the leaves clustered at the very top are often purplish-red in color. It is quite attractive against the dainty, single, tubular, lavender-pink flowers. Beginning foragers might want to wait to harvest when the plant is in flower—that way there is no mistaking it for another plant.

In doing research on the medicinal aspects of dead nettle, there are many actions listed: antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, astringent, diuretic, diaphoretic, purgative, and styptic. Since it has astringent and styptic qualities, the fresh leaves are recommended for external wounds or cuts. Tea from the leaves is purported to aid in digestion and is used as a mild laxative. It is also used for women’s issues for heavy menstrual flow and cramps. Caution: dead nettle should not be taken while pregnant or trying to become pregnant.

Henbit (Lamium amplexicaule)

This plant is often mistakenly called dead nettle (L. purpureum). I’ve read that henbit gets its name because chickens like it and seek it out, though I am not sure about that—the chickens that I know don’t pay it much attention—though they have lots of other plants and insects to forage. While dead nettle has petioled leaves (little leaf stems attaching the leaves to the central stem), henbit’s lower leaves grow on short stalks, and the mid-to upper, ruffled and scallop-edged leaves appear in a half-circle, clasped around the square stem.

Henbit

I love how Billy Joe Tatum perfectly describes the flowers of henbit in Billy Joe Tatum’s Wild Foods Field Guide and Cookbook: “The tiny flower buds look like beet-colored velvet beads, as small as a pinhead at first. As the buds open you see silken purplish flowers with long corollas, looking like Jack-in-the-pulpits in miniature.” Often upon close inspection, the tiny flowers are pale pinkish inside with deeper-colored spots; each flower turns into a four-seeded fruit.

Chickens in the dead nettle.

Henbit’s properties are somewhat similar to those of dead nettle and include: anti-rheumatic, diaphoretic, diuretic, febrifuge, laxative and stimulant. Henbit has been used to support good digestion, whether consumed raw or made into a tea, and has also been used to reduce a fever.

To prepare foraged greens:

To quickly capture the best flavor and nutrients, bring the greens to the kitchen as soon as they are harvested. Assemble a salad spinner or washing bowl, a cutting board, and the compost bucket. Run one gallon of water into the spinner or bowl. Add about 1/4 cup distilled white or apple cider vinegar to the water.

Methodically pull the tips or tender leaves from the stems. Pinch off leaves with yellow edges, or brown or black spots. Place the edible parts in the vinegar water as you work and submerge the mass in the water, plunging up and down several times to loosen foreign matter. Let the greens soak in the water for several minutes and the grit will fall to the bottom of the container. Lift them out and drain them. Discard the vinegar water and spin or pat the greens dry. Use fresh or cooked. If not using all of them, wrap them in a kitchen towel and store in the crisper drawer of the refrigerator for a few days.

Wild Greens Salsa Verde

(Makes about 2 1/2 cups)

This traditional green sauce goes well with any type of vegetable, whether it is grilled, steamed, oven-roasted, or crudités; it is also good with simply-prepared meat, chicken, fish, and pasta, or even tortilla chips. Vary the herbs that you have on hand or what is in season. When I can, I make this a wild green sauce by adding whatever I can forage: dead nettle, henbit, sorrel, chickweed, dandelion greens and/or flowers, purslane, lambs’ quarters, violet leaves, field cress, monarda, wild onions, or garlic. You can fill in with any seasonal greens from the garden if need be like parsley, fennel fronds, cilantro, arugula, spinach, etc. Sometimes, I add other ingredients—about 1 tablespoon of capers, a chopped boiled egg, or a handful of nuts, like pine nuts, walnuts, or pecans. The sauce can be made without the bread; it just helps to thicken it a bit.

1 1-inch slice country bread, crusts removed

3 large garlic cloves, slivered

About 1/2 cup olive oil

About 3 to 4 cups of mixed edible green leaves, picked over, washed and spun dry

1/4 cup minced sweet-tasting onion

2 tablespoons white wine vinegar

Salt and freshly ground pepper

Soak the bread in a little water for 10 minutes, then squeeze most of the liquid from it. Add the bread and the garlic to the mortar or food processor and pound or pulse to coarsely chop.

Rough chop the greens. Add them a handful at a time, and pound them in a mortar and pestle or chop in a food processor. Use a little olive oil to loosen them.

Add the olive oil to the herbs as if making a mayonnaise, a few drops at a time, blending or pulsing to incorporate.

When most of the oil has been added, blend in the onion and vinegar. If you want to add capers, nuts, or a hardboiled egg, now is the time; pulse or pound to mix. Season the sauce with salt and pepper, and taste for seasoning. The sauce should be a little thinner than pesto—add a bit more oil, vinegar, or even a bit of water if need be.

Let the sauce stand at least 30 minutes before using—that way the flavors will develop and meld. Adjust the seasoning and serve at room temperature. The olive oil will not emulsify completely; a little will remain on top of the sauce. Store any leftover sauce in a tightly-covered glass container in the refrigerator for up to a week.

Medicinal Disclaimer: It is the policy of The Herb Society of America, Inc. not to advise or recommend herbs for medicinal or health use. This information is intended for educational purposes only and should not be considered as a recommendation or an endorsement of any particular medical or health treatment. Please consult a health care provider before pursuing any herbal treatments.

Susan is a culinary herbalist, food writer, educator, and photographer whose work has been published in numerous publications. She has authored a number of award-winning books. Her latest book, The Culinary Herbal: Growing & Preserving 97 Flavorful Herbs, was co-authored with the late Dr. Arthur Tucker. Susan is passionate about herbs and her work, sharing the joy of gardening and cooking through teaching and writing, and inspiring others to get in touch with their senses of smell and taste.

Harbinger of Spring Look-Alikes: Dead Nettle & Henbit published first on https://marcuskeever.blogspot.com/

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