NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY: RDR2

31. COUNTING AN ENDLESS REPETITION

"The heart can think of no devotion

Greater than being shore to the ocean-

Holding the curve of one position,

Counting an endless repetition."

― Robert Frost

Arthur had given me one of his cleaner shirts to change into before we set off, I had managed to wash the blood from my hands and the powder from my face, but the stain on my clothing would remain there till burned. The shirt smelled so strongly of him, cigarettes and dried mud, there was something inherently comforting about existing within it.

We hadn't hung around for long before setting out towards Saint Denis, my ammunition supply severely drained from the O'Driscoll's attack.

"You know I can find my way to the city just fine on my own..." I started, urging Aine to walk alongside him.

"Oh, I don't doubt it." He replied, looking straight ahead at the dirt road. "I've got my own business to attend to."

I raised my eyebrow, wondering if the man ever just took the day off to kick his feet up and watch the others run around him for a change. Unlikely.

"Thought you might have spent an afternoon with the bottle to celebrate, seeing as your still breathin'." I say, shrugging.

"Not quite yet, Dutch wants to meet about the trolley."

"The trolley?" I ask, interest piqued.

"Supposed to be good money sittin' in the station." he explained, i frown back at him. Trolley stations didn't house any substantial quantities of money, and even if they did Saint Denis was not the place to try something so reckless.

"They ain't keepin' no money in the trolley stations." I scoff, earning a irritated glare from him in return.

"Bronte seems to think so."

"Oh, I'm sure he's trustworthy." I say sarcastically, spurring Aine into to a trot. "He probably earned all his money by telling people how to rob his city."

"You're probably right," Arthur agrees sadly, catching up to me. "But after everything that happened, losing Sean, Jack, nearly losing Tilly...we need something good."

I snap my head around to face him, this was the first I had heard of something happening to Tilly. My stomach dropped, the woman who had been so kind to me during my stay, the woman who had covered me when I had arrived exposed, the woman who had so gently combed the blood from my hair.

"What happened to Tilly?" I asked, his expression darkened considerably.

"Some folks she used to run with before us, been looking for her since she left 'em. Think she killed one of 'em." He said, grimacing.

"And they found her?"

He nods solemnly, the breath catches in my throat. I hadn't even spoken to her while at the camp earlier, too focused on shifting bodies and scrubbing the blood from my skin.

"Is she okay?" I asked quietly, dreading the answer.

"She's okay, we got to her before they could do any harm. Hell hath no fury like Susan Grimshaw."

I breathed a sigh of relief, Grimshaw certainly had that fire in her. She ran a tight ship; I only needed an hour in that camp to know better than to cross her. With figures as imposing at her and Arthur, I very much doubted Tilly's aggressors would be so quick to try their luck again.