Dutch's Daughter [[RDR2 Arthur Morgan x OC]]

chapter 3; cornwall

"It's been a bad few weeks but Dutch being Dutch, he is busy making plans and Dutch being Dutch, those plans involve robbery and dreams..."
...
Thin wire runs from a push lever to the train tracks nearby, attaching to stacks of dynamite carefully placed underneath wood slats. Bill struggles to make the final connection, fumbling with the material clumsily. Dutch sends his prodigal son down to assist the dimwit despite Arthur not knowing any more than Williamson. In fact, a hell of a lot less. Declaring it a job done good enough, the two men split apart, Bill sending out a warning to the men the gathered above to prepare themselves for a mighty blast.

Arthur rides up the slope, returning to the five waiting on the hilltop for the trains arrival. Now six total, side by side on horseback, the gang prepares for another gunfight. Dutch nudges Charlotte with his elbow, reminding her to don her bandana. She pulls the black cloth patterned with paisleys over half of her face, successfully concealing her identity. Her black hair is swept over her shoulder in a messy braid, thick eyebrows knitted together in focus and a wide brim hat hiding her eyes.

A rhythmic hum turns into chugging followed by the heavy clacking of wheels gliding over metal rails. The headlight appears from around the corner, smoke pouring from above it as it clips along the track, right on schedule. Dutch holds up a hand, watching Bill carefully below, waiting for the precise moment to signal him. The open hand crushes into a fist and the chubby man pushes all of his weight down on the lever.

Silence.

Dutch's hands fly into the air, utterly disappointed.

"Goddammit, Mr. Morgan!" he shouts.

"How the hell is this my fault?"

"You were supposed to make sure he did it right!"

"Well maybe if Char... Charlotte?" Arthur turns in her direction, ready to shift the blame but she's gone. They spin around and see the rear end of Sheriff kicking up dust, flying over boulders to catch the escaping train. "Shit..." he mutters, spurring Rogue into a dead sprint. To her disappointment, her rival catches up, racing against her to get there before she does. He throws himself from the horse, landing on the rooftop of the train below. Desperate to keep up, Charlotte jumps after him but falls short, barely saving herself by gripping the edge, her body dangling over the racing tracks. The roof is smooth and rounded, leaving nothing for her to grab on to pull herself up with.

"Arthur, help me!" She calls out, pure terror taking over as she looks down to see the wheels spinning well above cruising speed.

The familiar face of the hateful bastard appears above her, his stance ready to run. Choosing the latter, he grabs his gun and dashes.

"Wait! Arthur, please! Fucking help me!"

He freezes, a moral turmoil brewing inside as he contemplates whether to save her life or let her die. Letting her fall would certainly solve his problems but would create a whole other slew for him to deal with once Dutch finds out. Fingers slide and Charlotte loses her grip, plunging towards her demise. She cries out, desperately reaching but only catching handfuls of air in her attempts to catch herself.

A firm hand wraps around her arm. Arthur strains to pull her up, hoisting her back onto the rooftop with a mighty strength fueled by adrenaline. Now safe, she draws in deep, panicked breaths, trying to settle her pounding heart.