We're Dead, No Redemption

Wasted Lives and Stolen Horses

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TW: MENTION OF SUICIDE)

"Come on, girl. Just a little farther. We'll find shelter."
Arthur's warhorse snorted shallowly, her sides heaving from running for a while. Arthur patted her sopping wet neck. "I know, pretty girl. Th' rain is awful. We'll be out of it soon."
The rain had held off long enough for Arthur to get to Emerald Ranch and collect Lilly's debt, catching him and his horse in a thunderstorm as soon as they stepped foot (hoof?) off the property. They where both soaked to the skin in seconds, the warhorse exhausted from having to chase down a crime witness and Arthur shivering from the cold rain. The fact that they now seemed to be completely lost didn't do much to help the mood of either one.
Walking along the foot of a mountain Arthur somehow found himself at, their saving grace suddenly appeared. An ancient-looking broken-down cabin that clearly hadn't seen life in years. The abandoned cart in front of it gave off a weird vibe, but it could be shrugged off as a robbery that happened ages ago.
Dismounting his horse, Arthur took her reins off her neck and let her along the side to try and find a way in. The doorway found along the side was just tall enough for the two, so he led the horse in-and stopped dead in his tracks.
Skeletons were everywhere. Human skeletons, wrapped in rotting cloth that was all that remained of their clothes. One of them was seated at a kind of desk in a ceremonial hood, their hands (wrapped in tarnished silver bracelets and chains) on the desk and a dark splatter Arthur was willing to bet was blood splattering the desk in front of her. Another skeleton in ceremonial garb was on the floor on their back, in the middle of some strange symbol carved into the wood floor. Many more skeletons were in their beds for their final rest.
Ignoring the prickling feeling that was making it's way up his arms, Arthur carefully moved a blood-stained folded piece of paper out from under the hooded desk skeleton's hand and unfolded it to read. On it was written a few lines in a language he didn't understand, though it looks like Latin so someone at camp may be able to translate it.
Tucking the paper into his satchel, Arthur led the warhorse further inside and closed the door behind them. Creepy or not, it was shelter from the storm. Maybe he can loot the place while they ride it out.

The Latin text slipped Arthur's mind for a good few hours after that. It wasn't until after a successful carriage heist with Hosea the next day that it snapped into mind out of the blue, right when they returned to camp.
"Wait! Hosea, hold on a moment." Arthur patted his warhorse's neck after climbing down and stuck his hand into his satchel. "You know that old building I was telling you about?"
The older man gave him a confused look. "...No?"
"I'm not sayin' all that again. It's more-I found this."
He handed the written note to Hosea and stood beside the older man as he read it. Hosea nodded his head a few times, furrowed his brows, read it over again and looked over at Dutch's tent. "Hey Dutch!"
The gang leader looked out from said tent. Hosea waved him over. "Come and take a look at this."
Arthur tipped his hat in a greeting as Dutch walked over, getting a nod in return. Hosea held the paper out at an angle for him. "It's like a curse."
"Let's see?" Dutch carefully took it from him. "'To save our families, we must first contact the God'...Something about blood circle...Breathing life into the dead?"
Hosea turned to Arthur. "Where did you find this?"
"Back near Emerald Ranch." Arthur pointed over his shoulder. "Place looked like it had been abandoned for weeks-months, even."
"What was in there?"
"Skeletons. Tons of 'em. Place looked like the end result of a suicide cult."
Hosea gave Dutch a look Arthur couldn't read. The dark-haired man didn't react, focused on the "curse" Arthur had found.
"Arthur, go into Valentine and get more supplies." Hosea put an arm over the taller man's shoulders and turned him back towards the horses. "Take Abigail and Jack with you, give them something to do besides be ignored by John all day."
"I heard that," John cut in. Hosea ignored him.
"Uh..." Arthur gave his adoptive father a sideways look, then shrugged. "Okay."
Abigail was glad to leave the camp for a while, if her practically picking up Jack and rushing to the horses was any indication. Arthur tried to push any thoughts of weird curses cast while they were in Colter out of his mind and climbed onto his warhorse again, turning her towards the path leading out.
"Why were you gone so long?" Abigail asked, riding over on a Morgan.
"Got caught in a rainstorm." Arthur shrugged. "Had to hide out someplace until it let up, then got stuck camping for a bit. I still have one debtor to take care of, I presume, though Strauss hasn't said anything."
"Kind of hard to when you've just arrived and haven't had th' chance to talk to him," Abigail pointed out.
Arthur laughed a bit and shrugged. "I guess you're right."
The trio started down the path with that, going at a walk at first to avoid crashing into any trees (it seems the storm hit them here too, what with the ground looking so wet). Abigail nudged her Morgan to keep up with Arthur when they were in the clear and managed to pull up beside him. "What's got Dutch so worked up?"
"Some kind of letter I found." Arthur pushed his Warhorse into a slow lope and looked over his shoulder at Abi. "I don't know what it says, all I got from there was that it's some kind of curse."
"Never took Dutch to be the superstitious type."
"He ain't, that's what confuses me."
Abigail hummed. "Did he read what was on it?"
"Some of it. Something about contacting God and bringing the dead back to life."
"I saw a dead person come back to life," Jack said innocently.
"No you didn't, Jack Marston! You shut your mouth!"
"I did, mama!"
"What'd he look like, Jack?" Arthur asked, pulling the reins to slow down his horse a little.
"Arthur!" Abigail scolded. "Don't encourage him!"
"He was walkin' around our camp." Jack didn't seem bothered by his mother's warnings. "I think he came from the road. Charlie saw him, warned him to get outta here, then shot him when he didn't listen. He fell down, but I kept watchin' and after Charlie walked away he got up again and stumbled around some more until daddy got him in the head. He didn't walk around no more after that."
"Jack Marston you are making things up!"
"I saw him, mama! Arthur, you believe me, don't you?"
Did he? After what he's seen these past few days, he was hard pressed to say no. Still, Abigail was staring daggers into his back and he really didn't want to get slapped over confirming a child's tale.
"I...I dunno, Jackie," he said at last. "Maybe you were dreaming."
"There. See? Uncle Arthur doesn't believe you either." Abigail gave her horse another nudge to pick up speed again. "Now drop it. I don't wanna hear any tall tales from you anymore."
"Yes, mama."
"Why don't you tell him about that fish Grandpa Dutch showed you in that book of his?"
That got the kid excitedly rambling, though Arthur was only half listening. It took his warhorse spooking at a squirrel to snap him out of his spiraling thoughts. The familiar feeling of dread was starting to sink into his stomach.
Whatever was happening didn't look good.
Valentine coming into view settles his nerves a little. Something about a casually bustling society convinced him the world wasn't ending and that Jack's dead man walking really was just a tall tale. Sending Abigail and her son off to do whatever they wished, he took their two horses to the stable and was stopped by a stable hand in front of the doors.
"You look like you got a lot on your mind, Mister," the man said sympathetically. "That your wife and child?"
They might as well be. "No, they're uh...A friend of mine's. I'm just taking them out on errands."
"You look run ragged." The hand gently took hold of the warhorse's reins. "Why don't you let me take care of these two and you go have a drink."
Arthur shook his head with a laugh. "No, thank you."
"Come on. Treat yourself a little! You look so worried."
Arthur looked over at the bar. He's caused a lot of trouble in there, but...Maybe one or two drinks wouldn't hurt if he was careful.
"All right, all right." Smiling a little, Arthur dismounted his warhorse and handed the stable hand her reins. "Here. Thank you."
"Thank you, sir." The stable hand took the Morgan's reins as well and nodded to him. "I hope your day goes better for you."
"You're very ki-"
Someone short tugging at his sleeve cut him off and made him look down. Jack grinned up at him and held up a plush black cat. "Kitty!"
"Why, it is a kitty!" Arthur ruffled the kid's hair and crouched to his height. "Did your mother get that for ya?"
"Nope! I did!" Jack dug his hand into his pocket and held out a handful of coins in his small palm. "Someone's sellin' toys on the corner and I got a kitty with the money Grandpa Dutch gave me for doin' chores!"
"Sellin' toys, you say?"
"She's raising money for an orphanage," Abigail said as she walked over, trying not to crack a smile at her son's excitement. "Apparently she's going from town to town, offering toys and small decorations to sell. Pretty impressive setup, I must say."
"Come see, uncle Arthur!" Jack bounced up and down, grabbing Arthur's sleeve again. "Come see! Come see!!"
"Oh all right," Arthur laughed, "twist my arm then."
Jack cheered and started down the road, trying to pull him along. Abigail caught Arthur's shoulder when he stumbled and kept a hand there as the young boy pulled his uncle towards the other side of Valentine, where a carriage was set up.
"Hello again, Mr. Marston!" An elderly woman greeted Jack warmly when he let go of Arthur and ran over to her. "Are you enjoying your new kitty?"
"I am! I am!!"
"And Mrs. Marston." The woman took Abigail's hand in hers and patted it gently. "This is your husband?"
"No, he's a friend." Abi motioned Arthur over with her free hand. "Arthur Morgan. Arthur, this is Gertrude."
"Gertrude Mulligan, at your service." The lady dropped Abigail's hand and bowed to Arthur. "It's a pleasure to meet such a fine-looking young man."
What's with people in Valentine being so kind today? "Er...Thank you?"
"She's giving you a compliment, Arthur." Abi lightly swatted the cowboy's shoulder. "The least you could do is give one back."
"Oh no, I don't mind." Gertrude took the toy Jack was reaching towards off the carriage and gave it to him to look at. "People in Valentine are clearly...Out of sorts. Not the kindest town I've been to, but the children are so sweet."
"Can I buy this toy, mama?" Jack held up what he was given, a tin soldier.
"Why're you askin' me? It's your money, ain't it?"
"Oh. Right."
Abigail and Gertrude laughed as the five-year-old blushed, turning the toy over in his hands. Arthur left the trio to their business and went to the front of the carriage to see the horses.
Two almost pure-white draft horses with grey legs and cropped manes looked back at him, flicking their ears. Arthur hummed to avoid startling them as he walked over to the side of one.
"Hello there, boy." He let the horse give his hand a good sniff and stroked it's neck as it went. "You doin' okay? I've never seen a horse like you or your buddy before. What are you?"
The horse didn't answer. (Rude.) Instead it lipped at his pockets for a treat. Arthur fished a wild carrot out of his satchel and instantly had both horse's attention when he broke it in half.
"You're both beautiful," he said as he fed the twins a half of the carrot. "And, uh...Large. Clearly work horses. But what kind?"
The horse on the right answered his question by snorting and nuzzling him. The one on the left didn't like that and threatened to bite, making Rightie jerk his head away. Arthur laughed as Leftie pushed his head into his chest and played cute to get his forehead rubbed.
"Oh hey, Percherons." A man startled Leftie somewhat when he walked over and stood next to Arthur. "Are they yours?"
"No, they're...What did you call them?"
"Percherons. French horses."
Arthur gave him a blank look.
"You own these horses and you don't know anything about them?"
"I just said that I don't-"
"He doesn't own them." Gertrude made her way over and put a hand on Leftie's shoulder, catching the horse's attention and making him jerk his head up. "I do."
"Then I hope you know something about horses," the man said.
"Mischief and Mayhem." Gertrude patted Leftie's neck as she walked closer to the two men. "These two twins give me such a pain. This one here you were loving up, Mr. Morgan, is Mayhem. His twin Mischief is more curious than cuddly."
Mischief chose this time to snort again, blowing horse snot all over the place. Arthur cringed. "I see."
"Would you be willing to sell them?"
Gertrude gave the man a dark look. Arthur sensed she was about to tear into him and decided now was a good time to leave. He slipped past them and gave Mayhem once last pat before heading back to the back of the carriage.
"There you are, Arthur," Abigail said. "Meeting the horses?"
Arthur smiled and nodded. "You know me so well."
A gunshot came from the front of the carriage, making all the people at the shop flinch a little. The man Arthur and Gertrude had been talking to came around to them and crossed his arms. "Sorry, folks, show's over. I'm closing up shop."
"Where's miss Gertrude?" Jack asked as Abigail started dragging him away.
"I don't think she's available anymore, Jackie." Arthur gave him a push forewords. "Let's go. We've been here too long."
"But I wanna get more toys!"
"Maybe there'll be another vendor there another day, honey." Abigail picked up her child. "Now let's go."
The stable owner greeted Arthur with a smile when the trio arrived to the stable. "Hey! How's that horse of yours treating you?"
"She's fine. Where is she?"
The stable owner blinked. "What?"
"My horses. I gave one of your stable hands the warhorse and a Morgan. Where are they?"
Now the owner seemed suspicious. "Describe him."
"For cryin' out..." Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "He was a young guy! Maybe a teenager. Said he'd take care of 'em for me since I looked rough. Took 'em around the back, I think. I wasn't paying attention."
"Was he blond?"
Arthur nodded. The stable owner groaned. "Oh no. Sir, I'm sorry, your horses were stolen."
"Excuse me?"
"I heard about that happenin' sometimes," Abigail spoke up. "Read about it in the paper."
"I'm very sorry, mister." The stable owner motioned to the three horses nearby. "You can borrow two of those for now-or buy 'em, if you have the money."
Jack was already standing near one of the stalls, giggling as a large grey horse sniffed his hair. Apparently he had no choice.
Over one hundred dollars later, the trio were back on their way towards camp. The brown Dutch Warmblood Arthur was on seemed to sense his mood and moved at a plodding pace in response, which only further fouled his worsening mood.
A drizzle starting up made the area grow foggy. Abigail pulled her palomino Morgan close to Arthur's Warmblood and worked the reins in her hands. Jack stood up on the back of the saddle. "Are we lost?"
"We're not lost, Jackie." Arthur looked over his shoulder at the two. "Don't worry."
"Are you sure, Arthur?" Abigail nervously cleared her throat. "Maybe we should go faster, this fog is pretty bad."
"If we go faster and it gets denser the horses could trip over something. I ain't risking it."
Abigail sensed Arthur was in a bad mood and backed off. Arthur's Warmblood finally picked up speed from a lazy jog to a faster trot.
Both horses suddenly spooked at the sound of shouting in the distance, going from a trot to a gallop. Arthur pulled his Warmblood in a circle and held it still as he listened. 'What the Hell?'
A large black blur hurtled past the two horses from behind, spooking them all over again. Arthur fought to control the Warmblood as a man on a sweaty Thoroughbred raced past while shouting and wielding a rope. "I said whoa!! WHOA, dammit!!!"
The man roped the large black horse and made his Thoroughbred do a sliding stop, yanking the black horse to a stop with it. The wild horse violently shook it's head and reared back against the rope.
"Enough, Morrigan!" The man on the Thoroughbred shouted, forcing his horse to brace against the rope. "What is wrong with you?! You feral fucking beast! I should put you down right here and now!"
A hand pulling on Arthur's reins caught his attention. Abigail had dismounted from her horse and was looking up at him. She gave him a nod. "Go and help."
Arthur slid off the Warmblood and made his way over to the man and his two horses. The black Shire he was struggling with refused to let him near it, rearing up whenever he got close and striking at the Thoroughbred when it got close. Arthur walked around the two horses at a safe distance until he was beside the man. "Can I help you, partner?"
"Yes!" The man seethed. "You can hold this beast still until I put a bullet in her head!"
The Shire reared again, almost yanking the rope out of the man's hands. Arthur grabbed the rope from him and held it tight. "What's gotten into her?"
"She's green!" The man went back to his horse and leaned against it for a moment while Arthur wrestled with the wild one. "I bought her off a friend of mine since I needed a work horse-my old one died, see. Apparently it was overworked for its age. He said this one was young and would last me a few years, but neglected to mention she wasn't broken to work!"
That would explain the working harness on the mare. "So what happened?"
"What do you think? I got the harness on, opened the barn doors and she bolted! Thank god she's black and not light grey or else I'd never be able to find her in this fog."
The black Shire stopped pitching a fit and stood on four legs again, her head held high. Arthur decided to take a chance and spoke softly to her as he made his way over. She didn't threaten him, but she didn't lower her head either.
"What did you say her name was?" He asked when he was almost at her shoulder.
"Morrigan."
"Hey there, Morrigan." Arthur stroked the furious animal's neck. "You're not so bad, are you? Just got a little spooked is all. So much new stuff is happening today, eh?"
Morrigan finally lowered her head. Arthur suppressed a shiver. The mare's eyes were almost pure white and fogged over, with the pupil starkly visible. The eyes of a corpse.
"Er, your friend...Where did he get the name Morrigan?"
"He said she came with it. Said it was the name of some Celtic god. The god of death, I believe?"
The horse's ears flicked at the word 'death'. 'Yeah that kind of name suits you.'
"Tell you what, mister." The man walked over to Arthur and Morrigan, his hands in his pockets. "You seem awfully interested in this mare. If you wanna take her off my hands, I'll sell her for cheap."
"How much?"
"A dollar."
Arthur stuck his hand into his pocket and grabbed a dollar bill, handing it to him. "Done."
"What're we supposed to do with a work horse that don't work?" Abigail asked when he led the giant black horse over to her and Jack.
"What you'll do is bond with the Warmblood and have a horse of your own so you don't constantly need to borrow." Arthur put his hand on the Shire's neck. "What I'll do is have a new horse."
"You are not keeping that thing," Abigail chided, watching him climb back onto the Warmblood and give Morrigan a tug on the rope to get her to follow. "I'm serious, Arthur! We aren't keeping a feral horse!"
"I didn't ask you." He pressed the Warmblood's sides and walked ahead.
"The thing looks like she's blind! What're you gonna do with a blind horse?!"
"A blind horse wouldn't bolt."
"It looks creepy!"
"SHE looks creepy."
Abigail sighed. "I'm not talking you out of this, am I?"
"Nope."