#or feeling like the major events didn’t actually happen and that he dreamt or daydreamed them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

journal-of-an-outlaw · 5 years

Text

Price to be Paid

Chapter 4

Camp over the next few days was exhausting. Between getting everything set up to stay in one place for awhile and getting to know the people you were living with you were tired every night and almost asleep before you hit your bedroll. To say it was uncomfortable was an understatement. The small tent provided you enough room to change your clothes while hunched over, but that was about it. You were extremely grateful to those who gave it to you of course, but sometimes you got caught staring longingly at Arthur's raised mattress and daydreaming about how one night off the ground would feel.

You finally got to test out your new bow one day when the hunting party was relatively small. Arthur, Charles, and Javier accompanied you. Charles watched appreciatively as you took down a few rabbits with your new bow.

"If you move your hand around you'll be able to shoot farther. Instead of all of your fingers pulling from under the arrow, try one over and two under." You gave it a go and the arrow flew much higher than it had been previously. But it landed in a completely different spot than you had been aiming.

"I'll try that! Thank you, Mr. Smith."

"Charles." He smiled warmly at you and clapped your shoulder then headed over to Javier who was not having luck fishing. He seemed to be swearing at them more than catching them, and his cursing in Spanish increased with each cast.

Arthur watched you from across the field. You wondered if he trusted you or not. The two of you had barely interacted in the past week but you still feel bonded to him for saving your life back in Blackwater. You rode over next to him and looked out at the small group of deer feeding on the grass by the lake.

"Easy enough prey if you move quick." He pointed over to the bunch. You had never actually hunted deer before, just smaller game you could get with your bow. Living in town didn't give you a need to hunt purely for meat. His eyes barely moved from watching the herd ahead of him.

You were sitting upon a borrowed horse again, still not able to afford your own. A beautiful grey and white mare had come into the stables in Valentine recently and you had your eye on it.

One of the deer picked up it's head quickly as if it caught your scent on the wind. Raising your bow and using the new technique Charles taught you, you easily took one down. The pair of you rode over and the rest of the herd dashed away and pulled it up to your horse's back.

"Mr. Morgan, would you teach me how to skin this? I want to earn enough to buy a horse in town."

He raised his eyebrows at you. "You sure you want to get blood on your clothes, Miss Moore?"

Your temper flared up. "I'm out here hunting, ain't I? If I was worried about my clothes I would be content sewing and cleaning and cooking with the others. Just because I'm from town don't mean I can't learn other ways. Now, do you start with this end or the other one?" You pointed to the head, thinking it was wrong but determined to prove yourself. Arthur showed you the best way to skin it, and what furs to look for. You thanked him and added it to the growing pile on the back of your horse, stretching your arms and back muscles that were sore from your new bow.

"The next time I'm headed to town I'll take ya with me. We can get that horse you've been staring at when you think no one's looking." A smile creeps on your face.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan."

"Call me Arthur."

After you return from the hunting trip, some of the gang decided to go into town. Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen, Uncle, and Arthur all hop in the wagon and roll out. You decided to stay behind and take a well deserved nap after skinning some rabbits. Robbing and stealing would have to wait until another day when you could be more alert.

Abigail joined you at the table nearest the horses so skin. “Sounds like you got real good with that bow, YN.” You beamed back, so happy you had something good to contribute. “Abigail it feels so good. And powerful. I can see helping out with the hunting regularly. Seems like I can fit in here.” Dutch agreed as he sauntered over. “Nice work, Ms. Moore! Now that is what I call helping out thy neighbor. A few more trips like that and we’ll never go hungry again!”

Abigail beamed as the two of you finished cleaning the pelts. “I know it would be good to have you around. I’m so happy, YN, it always comes together. Now go lie down, I can see from your eyes how tired you must be.”

Moments later you curled up on your bed roll, the lazy midday heat helping you drift off to sleep. You dreamt of a stag running through a field and chasing after it, but always being a few steps behind. Dark grass grabbed at your legs and made you feel lethargic and slow. You knew you had to catch it no matter what. You pumped your arms to run as fast as you could, but no matter where it darted next be a stream bed or field of flowers you were always behind.

Shouting in the camp woke you up. The wagon had returned with the additions of Charles, Javier, and Bill. The men were caked with mud and obviously drunk, laughing uncontrollably while recreating what must have been a fight that broke out in town.

Javier wheezed, “And then! And then, he winds back with Arthur in his hands and launches him out the window! Glass was everywhere, nearly cut my ass open trying to follow,” he began howling and couldn’t even finish a sentence. Of course he tried to roll out the window rather than take the front door. “Then! That grande beast looked at Arthur, and called him...called him...pretty boy!” Arthur was grabbing onto the wagon trying to stand up with Charles leaning on him. Javier and Bill finally sat on the ground unable to support themselves standing anymore. The women were laughing as well, but much less loud and brashly. Hosea glanced over the rim of his book to see what happened but quickly went back to his novel once the scene concluded.

A new face rode into camp as the story was ending on a tall while horse. Sharply dressed and a northern accent caught your attention as most of the gang was obviously from further down south.

“Gentlemen! Quiet the street brawl in deed. And our own Arthur Morgan struck fear into the hearts of the gentlemen and caused the women to quiver no doubt! But I come with important news. Dutch, I found where they’re keeping Sean.”

Dutch and Hosea moved quickly over to the man. “Sean! Where is he, Trelawney?”

“Ahh, the problem. He’s in Blackwater with some bounty hunters.”

The gang looked around and waited for Dutch’s call. “If there’s a chance he’s alive, we ride.”

Charles was the first to volunteer to scout ahead first and left immediately. Some of the others needed to sleep off the effects of Valentine and the day’s events. You traded with Pearson the pelts you had kept for cash and left to find Arthur. Finally you had enough to pay him back for the bow he bought you, no matter how he disguised the purchase.

He was standing over a barrel of water dunking his face. You watched him for a moment, then slowly approached. At first you thought he was getting out tough hiding dirt from behind his ears. Then the smell hit you. Valentine’s stench had been amplified with alcohol and rain making Arthur a putrid mess. You tried to subtly cover your nose as you approached.

“Arthur? Arthur, do you have a moment?”

He stopped, sopping wet, to look over at you. “I can come back later if you’d like.”

“Now is fine!” He plopped down on a seat and shook his head with the remaining water causing droplets to spray everywhere. He motioned for you to take a seat but you politely declined. “I wanted to give you this,” you say as you held out a coin purse full of the $9.50 you owed.

He looked inside and immediately opened his mouth to protest. “Please, Arthur it’s the least I can give you. You’ve saved my life, taught me how to skin an animal, and not hated me for moving in with the gang. Honestly I owe y’all a lot more than I could gather up the past few weeks here.” Nodding he pocketed the purse and with it your debt was paid back. He smiled at you but quickly grabbed his jaw wincing, he must have been hit pretty hard in town. You cleared the seat off and removed his hand to get a better look at the damage. A cut that ran below his mouth and a bruise, but nothing major.

“It’s nothing, that fella just packed a mean punch is all.” No one was around to see you fuss over him, and he didn’t tell you to stop. You pulled a clean rag and some cleaning ointment from your medical bag and gently cleansed the area. Arthur flinched when your left hand met his face to hold it steady but he allowed you to help him with the cuts on his face.

How this bear of a man could have so many sides you hadn’t figured out yet. Outlaw. Sweetheart. Mean. Angry. Soft. But something in his blue green eyes was intriguing enough to make your heart catch in your chest when you stared into them too long. Arthur watched you while you concentrated on rinsing the mud off his chin and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Is there something on my face too, Mr. Morgan?”

“I told ya to call me Arthur. And no, I just never saw brown eyes shine like that in the sunset before.”

You froze, then remembered to breathe again. “All cleaned up. Hopefully that helps you sleep.” Arthur cleared his throat and thanked you with a tip of his hat and a small smile, then moved back to his tent to rest for the evening. Maybe he didn’t mean the comment in the way you took it. You gazed over the campsite to focus on something else, and it was stunning in the light of the setting sun.

Hosea was spooning stew into a metal bowl for himself when you joined him. “Mind if I sit with you for dinner?”

“Not at all! I’ve been meaning to talk with you. Let’s sit and watch the valley.” It was your favorite view from the site and he must have seen you there with the scenery stuck in your eyes a hundred times already. The two of you used the makeshift table near the edge of Herr Strauss’ tent.

“YN, you’re a reader, is that right?” You nodded excitedly. Finally someone to talk about books with! Not that you would have judged them but some of the folks in camp couldn't read.

Hosea smiled and the two of you discussed which genres you preferred. He loved a good mystery novel, and your weakness was adventure stories. Tales of the way life used to be was so romantic. Pirates plundering for lost treasure, or maybe the knights of the round table. Every new experience was something you yearned for.

“Too bad real life can’t be like that. Even our way of adventure is dying out,” he looked so sad, you put your hand on his arm. “How long have you been running with Dutch?” Thinking back, he replied “I reckon nearly 25 years at this point. We found young Arthur maybe 5 years after that, and folks traveled with us here and there. Always dreamed of owning a big old ranch out west somewhere though. That was our goal.” It all sounded so idealistic. Dutch, the loud and confident ranch owner. His second in command Arthur who maybe worked the stables, and Hosea who would be in charge of the hands. Or something like that.

“What’s Arthur’s story, Hosea?” He gave you a funny look, but you didn’t really see it because you couldn't meet his eyes fully.

“Arthur Morgan. Helped raise him since he was a boy. He’s an outlaw alright, wanted in more than 6 states by now. Heart of gold though, something in him always tells what’s right and what isn’t. He follows his instincts even if it gets in a scrap of trouble,” he paused but then continued on. “He’s got a sweetheart, Mary. Ain’t seen her in years now but I bet he still holds a flame for her. She...they...it never worked out.” You nod and finish off your stew. “YN, you’re a pretty girl. I’m sure there’s a hundred men who would love to be with you.” Laughing you try and correct him. “Hosea don’t worry, I’m not sweet on Arthur. I just spend more time with him silent than I do talking and I wanted to know him a bit better. Please don’t tell him I asked anything.” Hosea noded and you offered to clear his plates for him so he could light a cigarette and watch the last yawns of the day leave the earth in front of you.

Clean plates set to dry and an aching shoulder from your archery practice drove you to head to sleep early. Passing Arthur’s open tent, you heard him softly snoring as he lay flat on his back. The small table next to him had his journal thrown lazily and two photographs standing upright, but without the sun it was too dark to see who they were of. You’d bet your next meal one is of that Mary, and the jealousy that coursed through you surprised you more than you would have liked to admit. He’s handsome. Of that there’s no doubt. But you’ve seen him flirt a bit in camp with Mary-Beth, and knowing he has someone he’s been pining over made you more dejected than usual. Not that you’ve had any indication he thought of you other than just a person in camp but you had hoped. Another part of the adventure of living life as an outlaw.

After you washed your face with some cold water, you lay down exhausted. The gentle sounds of the camp carry you back to sleep. A small symphony of snores, tree branches, and bodies wrestling around had become your norm. It was comforting to know that even all the way out in Valentine, you were never alone.

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

The next day was the rescue of Sean. You wouldn’t be riding with the main group of course, but you had offered to be with the wagon halfway between Blackwater and camp to help if anyone needed anything with Tilly and Mary-Beth. Because her boys were now both mobile and moving around camp Abigail tended to stay with them instead of riding on missions.

You stretched and moved to get dressed for riding out. The job you had been assigned was to distract anyone coming up the roads, so you picked out an outfit that would seem more upscale than your usual jeans, boots, and long sleeved button up. A short sleeve white top tucked into a full red skirt and was cinched together with a belt you had bought in town. The buckle had a beautiful engraving of flowers on it that reminded you of your mother somehow.

Tilly whistled as you left your tent. “My, YN! You look pretty as a picture. Want help getting that hair pulled back?”

“Sure Tilly! I ain’t even got my own mirror to look at.” She grabbed your hand and pulled you over to where the other girls were sitting and eating breakfast. Mr. Pearson left another plate of food for you and you ate the eggs and bacon quickly, surprised at how hungry you were. Anytime you got nervous your stomach seemed to give you away.

Karen hummed to herself as she ran her hands through your hair in an attempt to brush out the knots. Then she carefully pulled half of it back and pinned it all up with a flower. “There, like a real society lady now.” Mary-Beth looked up from her journal and laughed. Maybe the flower was too much, you moved to cover it with your hand but the girls protested. For the time it would stay then.

Dutch sauntered over. “Alright ladies, here’s the plan. Charles is already out in Blackwater scouting the area, as is Trelawney. Arthur and Javier are heading out soon to begin the rescue mission. Your job is to stay about halfway back and grab Sean when they drop him off and hide him from any prying eyes that are looking for a bounty.”

The girls nod and begin to memorize the map Dutch put on the table.

As soon as the wagon is loaded with folks you all ride out. Javier and Arthur sprint ahead. Everyone was on edge and nervous about rescuing Sean as he was part of the heart of the gang.

“You sure it’s alright for three young women to sit alone in a wagon in the middle of nowhere?” you ask Tilly and Mary-Beth once the three of you are all set up hiding in some trees.

Both of them turn to look at you. “Well, we got our guns in case anything goes wrong, don’t we?”

“I’ve...never actually shot one.” They both stared incredulously.

Mary-Beth found three old cans on the ground and set them up along some rocks as targets. “Alright. So focus with one eye on the target. No! Don’t close the other one. There. Hold it straight out in front of you, steady, and pull the trigger!” You yelped as the gun gave you a bit of kickback. The bullet missed but just barely.

The girls laughed at your attempt. “How you expect to run with a gang if you can’t shoot!”

“I’m trying! I just need practice is all.” The next few hours you alternate between target practice, watching the road, and talking with the other girls. It was terribly boring being lookout on an empty road in the middle of nowhere. The thought of how close you were to Blackwater again made you nervous, hopefully no one from town who could recognize you would pass by. The wrath of your father was a horrible thing to contemplate.

“Quiet, someone’s coming.” Tilly’s voice was sharp as she loaded up her shotgun.

Javier came thundering up the road with someone sitting behind him on his white and gray spotted horse.

“Ah, Miss Tilly Jackson! What a sight for sore eyes you are,” the Irishman drawled. Sean was young and had a full head of red hair. He looked, well, awful after having escaped the hangman’s noose.

“Sean!” Mary-Beth leaped onto him and they both hugged each other happily. You smiled at the reunion.

“And, er, who might this be?” You moved forward to shake his hand. “I’m YN. YN Moore.” “Another Irish then! Good luck to them bastards back at camp. They can’t stop us now!”

Javier climbed back on his horse and told you all to stay safe, then rode off to meet up with Arthur and Charles. Sean climbed in the back of the wagon, and Mary-Beth joined him. You and Tilly clicked at the horses to start moving and the wagon was off.

“That was easier than I thought.”

“Sometimes these things go real south. The way back should be easy but stay alert just in case.” Tilly’s eyes scanned the road, but the first hour was calm.

You and Sean chatted while he sat in the back of the wagon and you learned more about him. Born in Ireland originally, he came over with his family who was now gone. His father had been an infamous outlaw too.

“What part of the Emerald Isle do you come from, Ms. Moore?”

Your geographical knowledge of Ireland was weak, but you remembered seeing a map at one point. “Galway, west coast. My grandparents left to find a better life.”

“Galway! You know my horse is named Ennis for the county just south of that. Beautiful place. Always did love the smell of the sea there. Fine people come out of Galway.”

Perhaps some distant relative of yours was Irish and you weren’t lying to the gang, but you still felt guilty that it wasn’t the truth. Of course, it was better than them knowing your real relatives.

Ahead on the road there seemed to be an accident. A coach was overturned, the horses shot dead and belongings scattered everywhere along the side of the road. Tilly slowed the wagon down and handed you an extra pistol. “Here. I have a feeling you’re gonna need this.”

Your heart pounded in your ears. No one was around, but the eerie silence didn’t settle well with anyone in the wagon. Tilly tried to rush the horses forward but a man called out from behind a tree.

“Alright, miss. Step on out of that wagon and hand it over now. There’s many more of us than the two of you could take.” He aimed a gun straight at the two of you, and more men walked out to join him. No one moved. The man clicked back the hammer slowly, waiting for your reaction. Behind you Sean and Mary-Beth moved silently into position, and you and Tilly climbed down to stand on the road.

“Alright, mister. All yours. Just put that gun down.” Four men started moving on the wagon, and that’s when Sean and Mary-Beth popped up and started shooting. You fumbled with the pistol in your pocket but one of the men jumped and pinned you to the ground before you could take aim.

You screamed as he tried to get your hands above your head, and you attempted to push and kick him off. He just laughed at you. His knee started to move up your left leg slowly, and real fear started pumping through your veins. The others were busy taking down the remaining two men to help you, so you were on your own.

“I’m gonna take you with us, I think. Tie you up in the back and have my way with you. What a pretty face. You’ll regret ever driving through here…” He went on to describe the terrible things he would do once you were alone.

Although less than half his group remained, he still seemed to think he could take you. Your right arm finally got free from his grip and slapped his face as hard as you could. His recoil was all the movement you needed and without thinking fired the pistol straight into his belly.

Blood spattered everywhere as he fell backwards. You scrambled away as fast as you could and wiped your face, watching the life drain out of the monster on the ground.

“Hey, hey there. You okay Miss Moore?” Sean moved to help you stand but you flinched away. You had never held a gun before a few hours ago, and now you were a murdered. Sure it was in self defense, but panic still spread across your chest hot and white.

The others watched as you finally stood up. You must have looked a frightful sight as Tilly suggested you stop at the lake before heading back to camp.

After the experience with the ambush, the ride back was uneventful. You sat in the back of the wagon with your knees tucked under your chin and didn’t speak the whole way. The thought of that man’s breath on your face and the horrible intentions haunted you, but you know you did the right thing. If he had escaped, some other poor girl could have been attacked too. Or worse from what was planned in his mind.

The stop at the lake was quick as everyone was eager to get back to camp. Your white shirt had no hopes of going back to its original color so you didn’t bother with trying to clean it. The cool water cleared your head and you began to feel better after washing your arms and face. Tilly came up next to you.

“Just checkin’ in. I figured that’s the first man you’ve ever killed.” you liked how to the point she was. It never took long to figure out what she was thinking .

“It was,” you said taking a big breath in. “But I keep telling myself he was bad. The things he said...no one should be able to act like that. What I did wasn’t good, but it sure was right.”

Tilly nodded and patted your shoulder. Eventually, you would come to peace with it.

Back at camp the gang whooped when your wagon rolled in. The others had arrived sooner than you and were eager to get Sean set back up. Dutch clapped him on the back, joy spreading around him like sun rays.

“Let’s have some fun tonight. Let’s enjoy ourselves! A party, just a little one. Mr. Maguire is back! All of you get cleaned up and once the sun sets, we can finally let loose!”

#red dead #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #fanfic #fanfiction #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #charles smith #sean maguire #abigail roberts #john marston #arthur morgan romance #arthur x reader #reader insight #I don't know how to name anything #the next few chapters are good #I promise!!!#price to be paid

32 notes · View notes