(Red Dead Redemption 2 Story)
'𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 - 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.'
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From the author that brought you 'Playing Dangerous'
You are the daughter of one of the most brutal, sought after 'Guns for Hire'...
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Facing the hangman's rope felt more suiting as Fox's hooves thudded placidly through the rust red dirt surrounding Lemoyne, the sickening feeling in your stomach having not dissipated in any way and instead made you feel incredibly unable to face anyone at this time.
But you had to return, tell everyone you were fine - and then speak to Arthur alone. You thumbed your reins nervously, pointing Fox into the leafy coverage of the trees surrounding the outer camp; the dry dirt lost in dapples of warm morning sunlight cast through the quenched brown and golden leaves of summer scorched trees. It all felt so wrong, you had to play out everything was fine until you could speak to Arthur in private about your surprise pregnancy.
You replied to Karen's authoritative bellowing demanding your identity with as much vivacity as humanly possible, unsure of how you quite passed it off that you were fine.
Returning to camp, your heart sunk somewhat behind your chest when you realised Artemis was gone, along with Silver Dollar and Old Boy. There went your chance of immediate relief from the chaos whirling inside your head.
Reaching the hitching post, you swung down carefully from the saddle and tried to steady your shaky legs in the yellowy-green grass, running up Fox's stirrups and sponging him off with a pail of cool water. It was a sweet distraction from the thought of plastering on a fake smile for the next few hours.
"Mornin' (name)," came Abigail's voice, as she ambled past in her dress, dark hair fixed back into a bun and clutching a metal coffee cup in hand. "If y' lookin for any of the boys, they headed out 'bout an hour ago." She then sighed deeply, "Don't ask me where 'cause John don't tell me nothin'." Her frustration was evident at the man who was seemingly struggling with stepping up to being a father to his son.
"Thanks Abigail," you smiled wryly and reached out to touch her arm softly, "Don't worry about John. He'll come round one day and see what a wonderful son and a good woman he has."
Abigail laughed softly at the compliment, flattered but also clearly amused.
"He's a damn fool, I sure hope he does see how lucky he is." She smiled back in gratitude, shielding the bright sunlight from her eyes with the back of her hand, as she slipped off into the hazy slowness of the camp in the morning half of the day.
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The day grew hotter and more humid as the afternoon toiled it's way in, unbearably stifling and suddenly Flat Iron lake seemed more inviting than ever.
You had taken to your area of the tents and wagons where the rest of the girls were, looking through your belongings you had collected from your father's house and staring sadly at the pictures of your mother. You missed her so dearly, and wished you had her for guidance in your life in this difficult time. If your father hadn't been so much of a bastard, maybe there was a way she would have been at your side still.
