Hang Em' High [RDR2 X FEM!Reader]

Fire And Flames

The sun was only just rising, orange light bled through the morning mist as shrieks broke out throughout camp. Jack, Abigail and Johns little boy had gone missing. Presumably taken by the Braithwaites for ransom or revenge and even possibly both. Time was at the essence. With a child's life on the line, tension in camp could be cut with a butter knife. Abigail was flailing around. Her eyes locked with yours for a moment that felt like forever, her eyes an abandoned ice rink. Cold and empty. You were frozen in time. You felt a strong pressure on your shoulder, you sluggishly looked up and Dutch was speaking to you. His voice sounded like he was ten feet deep under water. You shook your head and focused on his words
"Y/n! Y/n! For Christ sake, Y/n!" He yelled, shaking your shoulder
"I- what?" You puzzled in a complete daze
"I need you to ride with me. We need as many of us as we can get. Can you handle that!?" He locked his eyes with yours, you noticed his eyes had much more life behind them than Abigail, but you could still sense that desperation was lurking behind the stern eyes that met yours. Dutch was always an amazing pretender, but so were you.
"Yes, Dutch." You replied loudly while heading quickly to your horse. "Hello love." You muttered while jumping on your stallion. What seemed to be pretty much the entire gang surrounded you, all on horses. There was no time to plan or chat before hand, you all needed to get on the road now. The pace you rode in was quick and harsh, the usual calm tune the hooves made was long gone and now you rode with a roar. Arthur was riding beside you, you looked over to him and he gave you a promising look. He knew you could handle it. But did you?

Of course you did.

Arriving at Braithwait manor the wind settled on your skin, shivering, you knew there was about to be a lot of blood shed. The flames from the lanterns that scattered around the building were flickering in an abnormal manner, dancing as living souls in the wind. The horses reared, shaking their heads. Frightened. Almost as if they too could sense the destruction that was about to occur. Nerves tried to sneak into your stomach but you pushed them deep, deep down out of your body. The gang jumped down from their horses. You did the same, giving it one last timed pat for good luck. You all walked in line, side by side. Your boots crushed the stones beneath you. Your footsteps in rhythm with everyone else's. You felt your companions warm presents, and you were ready.
"Get down here now! You inbred trash!" Yelled Dutch, gun in hand. You removed your shotgun from its holster and awaited your orders. Anticipating your deserving revenge. You hated many things, but being lied to took the trophy. And they were going to pay.

A few men appeared out the front doors, holding their weapons as you did. The late night mist surrounded their ankles and the full moon light begged to be seen through the clouds. Dutch began snapping with them, demanding they returned the boy. A muscle in Dutches neck twitched as his eyes focused on the men. He wasn't just angry, but furious. Blood thirsty, even. The entire gangs aura cried with loathing. Your gaze turned to John, one of the men was purposely winding him up. Your eyes lowered to Johns scarred fists, they were clenched in pure anger, just like Karen's had been yesterday. John, all riled up and angry pounced for the man but Hosea held him back. His feet crashing against the many tiny rocks below him caused the men to stare.
"Hand him over!" Dutch's deep voice returned the attention back onto him
"Get off our land!" A man retaliated
"If you ain't going to be civilised about this...."

Quicker than a gator lunging for an eagle, gun shots were being fired all around you. The heavy trees shuck with power the gang created. And suddenly, the men were dead. Dutch ordered you to stay outside and keep watch with a few other and you did as you were told. The cool night wind kissed your cheeks like Mother Nature herself was congratulating you on keeping yourself collected. You heard a gunshot and then some banging upstairs, but apart from that, the silence was murderous. Keeping you on edge to the point where you jumped at your own breathing. Suddenly, men on horses came sprinting into view. How had you not heard their hooves? Gun shots rang out once again, you threw yourself behind one of the large white supports of the manor. You peered your head around and pulled the trigger tightly. Each bullet you released hit your target exactly where you'd planned. Bullets sprayed from above and around you. Your heart beating so fast you thought you may go into cardiac arrest, you took a deep breath and pulled the trigger some more. Your ears ached with the relentless pounding that charged through your canals. You soon forgot about the pain you were encountering when a bullet merely missed your eye by centimetres, it sped into the wall behind you. Eyes paler than ping pong balls, you recalculated where each enemy was. They should have prayed their bullet would kill you because now you were foaming at the mouth in anger. You snapped your head around, aimed and shot. Again and again.  Ending life after life. Bodies dropped to the floor and screams bounced off the trees as you unleashed all you held within you.

After a while the gun shots soon slowed down and the shouting replaced with silence. Now you only had to deal with one thing. Finding Jack. You rushed into the building, your shoes clicked and clacked against the hard wooden floor. Your eyes scanned the large room when you heard banging and yelling coming from upstairs. You gripped the end of the banister and hoisted yourself up the stairs. Dutch was attempting to push the door at the end of the hallway down. With each bang the house shook and the chandelier swung in place.
"Here let me help!" You spoke loudly as you threw yourself at the door in time with Dutch's weight. The door crashed to the ground with a thud. One Man lay dead on the floor, killed by Arthur Morgan who stood their over his victim, should I say victim if he had it long coming? But one mans heart remained beating, Dutch raised his revolver, his eyes danced along the metal before squeezing the trigger. Fixing that problem instantaneously. Hosea came running in from behind you, panting. Dutch marched over to another door and easily kicked it down. Effortlessly, like a stone through water. He grabbed the old hag from her hiding place and slammed her against the wall for you all to see. Tears stained her cheeks as she forced a confident and calm tone to fall from her mouth. You all saw through it. She swore and yelled at you all, as if you were the bad guys.
"Where is the boy." Hosea demanded, gripping her shoulder tightly
"You killed my sons!" She screeched
"Oh, and I'll surely kill the rest of them unless you start talking!" Retaliated Dutch
"Oh, I know your type. Common scum." Scolded the woman, her wrinkles became more visible as she eyed you
"Where, is, the boy?" Interrogated Dutch, weapon raised. The cool tip of the gun teasing the Braithwaite.
"You filth." She spat.
"Alright, we get her out of here." Spoke Dutch, on his last viable nerve and he grabbed her. His cotton sleeves held her tightly around the neck.
"And what about them?" Questioned Arthur, hinting to the woman's family members on the floor. Dutch raised his gun and shot them again for good measure, she shrieked with grief as Dutch forced her out of the room. Her mask had melted - she was clinging onto the smooth wooden banister for dear life. Screaming and kicking to be freed. Dutch ordered for the manor to be burned to the ground as soon as everyone was sure Jack was not inside.

The flames roared in the nighttime sky, forming a light that shone brighter than the moon. Dutch threw the hag on the floor and she landed with a grunt. The Gang surrounded her, a dozen barrels met her eyes. Her eyes darted as she decided on her words.
"I never liked you." She stated
"Shocking," you mumbled to the people closest to you
"Why'd you take the boy, Mrs. Braithwaite?" Questioned Hosea, who definitely had much more patience than you. She hissed insults and tried to convince you that the boy was an even crime in war, but it all went in one ear and out the other. When suddenly she piped up again
"My sons took him to Angelo Bronte. So my guess is Saint Denis. Either there, or on a boat to Italy." She smirked. And you thought John was going to smack her. Hell, if he didn't you would have.
"Let's go." Ordered Dutch "y/n come on!"
"What we doing with her?" You begged
"Leave her." Returned Dutch, suggesting you to walk ahead of him. You looked back to the broken person who laid on the ground before you, life crumbled apart. A devilish laugh cackled out of you and you knew then that, that once innocent girl on the farm was long gone.