An Unfortunate Face (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

(23.) Bank Robberies and the Like

"We're creating the distraction," explained Hosea over the pounding of hooves.

"I can do that. What kind of distraction?"

"Loud noises, a few sticks of tricky dynamite. They're real loud, but don't have much force to them. We don't want any civilians getting hurt."

"I'm not sure Dutch made the same promise," you said sadly. Hosea sighed at your expression, knowing full well that you were probably right.

"He doesn't mean to be so intense. We've been running a long time, y/n. Bounty hunters, rival gangs...we could always outrun them. But government agents? I'm not so sure. If we get a good score from this bank, it may very well be our last."

"It seems it's always supposed to be our last, Hosea. I've grown attached to you all—"

"—Arthur especially," Hosea interrupted, resulting in a smile and blush on your cheeks.

"—him too...I don't want to see anyone else die, I guess. I've seen my fair share of friends..." you trailed off. "I don't want my friends to die over a little money and pride."

"We have been through a lot, this gang," Hosea said softly, "A bank robbery isn't going to kill us."

You had only just crossed the bridge into Saint Denis when Hosea stopped you.

"Hitch the horses up here, we'll travel on foot to the north entrance."

He dismounted first and helped you down with an outstretched hand.

"If anyone asks us any questions, let me answer. I can con my way out of anything."

"Sure," you giggled. "Arthur's told me a few stories."

"Hm," he smiled. "Alright, you're my daughter for now. Ms. Y/n Matthews."

You nodded and he started the long walk to the bank. It seemed to stretch on forever, a thousand little shops and houses intertwined in the big city. It didn't bother you though; it was a pretty enough sight if you could stomach the smell.

"You see that alleyway up there? Put two sticks of this stuff down and light it on my signal. Come back and when it blows, you scream and run. Got it?"

You nodded and took the tiny package from his hands, looking around every second or so to see if anyone was watching.

You could see the bank from here, just barely making out Charles' figure against a wall in hiding.

At least Dutch was ready. You walked into the alleyway with a pep in your step, like the rest of the city folk, and placed two sticks into a small corner covered by old barrels.

You peeked your head around the corner and saw Hosea's hand strike an imaginary match. Taking this as your signal, you lit the fuses and walked calmly back to Hosea.

The dynamite blew and you screamed, holding onto Hosea for dear life.

"Perfect," he whispered calmly into your ear.
You had only put one foot forward when a man's voice rang out behind you.

"There he is! One of Van der Linde's!"

You turned to see three Pinkertons all surrounding Hosea. He was no match against all of them, and in an instant they had swarmed the whole bank.

Someone had to have snitched.

"Move and we'll shoot you," one threatened. Your hands were making their way to your holster when Hosea mouthed something at you.

"Run!" He was saying. "There's too many, y/n, run!"

You opened your mouth to plead with him, but it was too late. He had kicked one of the guards in the knee, causing him to trip. They were distracted long enough for you to turn the corner and cover yourself.