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

chapter 8; fishing for trouble

"These dreams I've been having refuse to let up. Rather, they get more and more vivid every night. I suppose if I quit drinking myself numb, they'd probably quit... If I look at it a different way like Hosea would advise me too, I could see it as a welcome distraction from thinking about Micah. I can still feel the sick bastards touch and that nightmare haunting me. It's been a long time since I've dreamt about momma..

On the bright side, when I woke up this morning, my vision was restored. Eyes still purple but least I can see now. If I'm honest with myself, I don't mind dreaming about Arthur. So long as I'm asleep, I'm safe to feel what I'd like to and allow it to comfort me in the privacy of my own mind. When I'm awake, I struggle to understand how I actually feel about him. Then he opens his mouth and I remember exactly why he bothers me so. Damn. Much."

Charlotte trades her journal in for a mid-morning cup of coffee, sipping it carefully while taking in the view of the distant Dakota River. Grimshaw offered up a tincture of yarrow and burdock root to help with her hangover, curing the headache she'd had brewing. A secret benefit to being the old shrews favorite gang girl.

Behind her, the camp is stirring with comotion. Sean and John are hunched over a map, discussing the details of yet another train heist. Dangerous with the promise of unfathomable amounts of wealth. The usual disaster in making. Charlotte tunes into a conversation audibly closer to her. Jack's little voice ringing out followed by the telltale low rumble of Arthur.

"-bout time you start earning your keep round here. Now, you do have a fishing pole, don't you?"

"Sure do! Uncle Hosea made me one!" Jack hops with excitement.

"Go get it then." Arthur ruffles the kiddos hair, turning to Rogue to secure a fishing pole of his own.

"Where are you two off to?" Charlotte asks, sweeping up behind him.

The pole clamors to the ground, along with all of his previously packed gear. "Shit, Lottie... uh... you snuck up on me."

Charlotte raises an eyebrow at his blushing face. She'd never seen him act so strange and bashful before. "Sorry, didn't mean to. Figured I better check that you weren't trying to steal little Jack away from his momma."

"God no. Just taking him fishing for the day, that's all. Abigail's basically forcing me to since John's too damn useless to do it himself." Arthur returns to his usual tough exterior.

"Mind if I tag along? Could use some time away." Her eyes flit over to Micah who's joining the men over the map. His looming presence put her in a constant state of anxiety. Arthur's gaze follows hers and he makes his assumptions. Jack leaps back to the horses, pole in hand and a big smile on his face.

"Guess I don't mind, so long as Jack here doesn't mind sharing a horse with a stinky girl." Arthur jabs a finger between the boys ribs earning a squeal of laughter from him.
Charlotte smiles and hoists the boy up onto Sheriff, wedging him between her body and the horn of the saddle. His miniature fishing pole pokes from the saddle bag, occasionally smacking her in her already sore face. Probably should've packed it more wisely, she thinks to herself as the horses gallop steadies to a gait as they approach the river.

Lifting him down to the rocky ground, Jack wastes no time snatching up his pole and joins Arthur's side, following him closely to the water's edge. Arthur crouches down to show him the mechanics of the miniature fishing pole , carefully teaching him how to bait and cast. The little boys eyes are widened with curiosity, soaking up the information as much as his little mind can. Once he's got the hang of it, Arthur focuses on his own pole, casting further out into the deepest part of the rivers gently flowing waters.