𝗖𝗨𝗣𝗜𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗜𝗜 ➳ 𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗥𝗘𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗜

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑.

Eleanor hastily poked the campfire, her knees huddled up to her chest. Arthur sat by her, writing something in his journal. While he wrote down his thoughts, hers consumed her. 

Mister Peters was dead. She never had the chance to learn his first name nor did she care to but he was dead. The man who thought he was a hero for handing her in to Mary with his men. It must've been his men they killed today, Mary probably paid them to watch the place like hawks because she knew Eleanor would go back sooner or later.

Mary was smart. She didn't send her own men off to die, instead she paid some foolish bastards to do it instead. Not like the money meant anything to them now that they were nothing but corpses. She would find out in a few days when she sends someone to come check on them. What a scene it would be to ride up to. 

"How's your shoulder?" Eleanor looked over to Arthur, still poking her stick in the fire. The outlaw looked up from his journal, pencil in hand.

"Just a graze, nothing major. You should be getting some rest," he muttered before looking back down at his journal. Eleanor watched him as she listened to the pencil scribbling on the paper. Eventually she turned her attention back to the fire.

The two had camped down in the dried up creek of Dewberry Creek. While they were setting up Arthur informed her that they were thinking about setting up camp here which Eleanor saw as small minded. It was out in the open with a road very close by. Travellers and people of the sort would come wandering in. 

"What's on your mind?" Arthur asked her suddenly. Eleanor looked over at him to see the man staring at her, his pencil resting in his journal. Eleanor found herself getting butterflies in her stomach from the man. 

"Today. Micah," She sighed before tossing the stick into the fire. "These past two days where it's just been you and I have been nice. Now we have to return and I have to see that son of a bitch," She rested a cheek against her fist that rested on her knee, looking at Arthur. "I don't know, I didn't enjoy killing people today. I never do, but other than that it's been real nice."

"I know," Arthur murmured, nodding in agreement as he shut his journal and placed it beside him. "It's been a while since we've been alone together. I don't know if I want to go back either."

"Really?" Eleanor sounded surprised as she raised an eyebrow of interest at the man's comment. He nodded causing her to scoff slightly. "Because of Dutch?"

"Him and Micah, I hate that rat bastard as much as you do," Arthur announced before getting up and moving over to join her. He sat down beside her with a groan before holding his shoulder. Once the pain seemed tolerable he moved his hand away, placing it on the ground behind him as he held himself up beside her. "Dutch isn't the man I knew a few months ago. He's changed and Hosea knows it too. We both know that if this happened with Micah a few months ago Micah would've been dead. Sure Hosea didn't want to kill Micah but Hosea ain't really the violent type anymore, not while he's been sick and since Bessie died. We've killed a rat in the gang before, I don't see what's so different about Micah."

"Because we need his gun," Eleanor attempted to mimic Dutch's voice as she spoke, causing Arthur to chuckle at the woman.  "I don't know what to tell you, Arthur. I wish I did," she sighed, looking at him. 

"You don't need to say anything, you being here is enough," Arthur shrugged. Eleanor smiled at the man, appreciating his honesty. "I'm sorry about the mess today. Blowing folk up is nasty business."

"Ain't your fault they were fools, we were left with no other choice," Eleanor defended his actions. "Besides, I've seen plenty of corpses. Guess I was a little disgusted at limbs laying around."