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

chapter 20; reunited

Warning: This chapter gets spicyyyyy!! Smut ahead!

... A few weeks later ...

Arthur flicks a finger, wiggles a toe and slowly comes back to life. His body rests under a three dense layers of blankets, put there to counteract the chill of an infection induced fever. The bright light of afternoon sun burns his corneas, having not opened them fully in... he's unsure of how long. Blinking slowly, he pays close attention to each of his senses, trying to assess just where he is. 

The temperature provided by the covers is closer to an unbearable heat than a comforting warmth. He smells a campfire, the familiar scent of coffee and what he believes to be whiskey, lingering on breath. A turning page of a book sounds from a mere foot away, a low grumble of throat clearing with it. He pushes the thick wool stack off of his chest, relieved to find the air soothingly cool. 

"Arthur, you're awake!"

A twinge of disappointment pangs his face when he recognizes the voice belonging to Hosea. "Hosea..." He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the cot, realizing how sore he still is. "What the hell happened?"

"Well, my boy, we were hopin' to hear that from you. You don't remember anything?" Hosea sits in a small wooden chair pulled up beside the cot in the canvas tent. An afternoon smoke is propped between his two fingers also holding the corners of "Shrew in the Fog", a book Arthur had given him a few months back. 

"'fraid not." His hands rub his jawline, discovering his beard length doubling in size. As he straightens his spine, popping joints and taking count of every bandage meticulously wrapped around him, his eyes scan the camp outside. "How long I been out?"

Hosea looks in the same direction, gathering what Arthur is really searching for. "Took three men to pry that poor girl off you. Even then, she snuck back in as soon as her father retired for the night. She sat with you every night, reading to you and checking that Susan changed your bandages." He uncrosses his legs, shutting his book and taking a drag of his cigarette. He was careful to emphasize father, flashing Arthur a warning look. "Dutch... has forbidden her from seeing you. Says he'll figure the rest out once you woke up." 

Arthur nods his head, processing the information. He'd expected to Dutch to be upset but this was exceeding his expectations. He'd always thought of himself being just as close to Dutch as Charlotte was, in a certain way. Though he wasn't family by blood, Dutch raised him to be the work horse he is now. Doesn't that earn him a little more respect? His head is still foggy, memories dipping in and out. 

"I'll, uh, go see where she's wondered off to, let Reverend know you're up. She'll want to know you've made it." Hosea stands, setting the book on the bed beside him and exits the tent, leaving Arthur with his spinning thoughts. Before he can dive too deep in his own mind, Swanson has replaced Hosea's presence, his eyes bloodshot and red hair sticking in three different directions. If he weren't the closest thing to a doctor in a ten mile radius, he wouldn't let him anywhere near him but he has no other choice. A drunk reverend will have to do.

"I thought I'd be burying you, Mr. Morgan." Swanson laughs, patting him on the back and taking his wrist in hand to begin examining the healing injuries. "Oh, not just yet I'm afraid." Arthur chuckles weakly, lungs sore. 

"How are you feeling?" Reverend doesn't look at his face as he squints to survey each wound for signs of infection.

"'bout as good as you." 

Swanson laughs, heartily. "Well then, I'm sorry to hear that." He digs in a bag resting at the foot of the cot, pulling out a small brown bottle of some type of health elixir. "Drink this, it'll take the edge off."  Arthur takes it from him, thanking him but not drinking it immediately. As soon as the man leaves the tent, he slides back in the medical bag. Being that he's unsure of what's in the potion and that there's a good chance his caretaker is drunk, he'd rather drink it. Besides, he finds the dull pain a pleasant reminder that he'd managed to pull through.