A Red Dead Redemption story.
A seasoned bounty hunter, you've buried your past beneath the weight of your work. But a brush with the notorious Van der Linde gang unravels everything. Amid bullets and bloodshed, you discover love and a sense of belon...
The contrast of the sun blinded you on the way out of the Gunsmiths. Clagging your way through the mud back down to your mare, a shrill shriek of a woman's voice alerted your fight or flight response.
You followed the direction of the commotion, leading you into Saints Hotel. "Hey, HEY!? I don't want no trouble!" The hotel clerk emitted, cowering behind his desk.
You raced up the wooden stairs, shooting the hotel clerk a look of disconcert. The commotion grew louder as you approached the third room down the left corridor.
"Get offa' me y' creep!" You bust the door down with heel of your boot. A blonde, busty woman looked at you, eyes wide with fear, cupping her flaming red cheek. You punched the man stood in the room with her, without hesitation.
He fell backward, the base of his skull connecting with the bed post with a loud crack.
"Y'all alright?!" The man from the general store huffed in the doorway, as if he'd just ran up a mountain.
"Yeah, I'm okay." Replied the blonde woman, "he caught my cheek is all." Still cupping the rosy wound.
"This gal bust in here just in time!" Gesturing towards you. "I ain't no damsel in distress, but neither is she by the looks of it!" The blonde giggled at you.
"I just- I know what its like too- uh.." You stammered, you weren't used to disclosing details of your traumas.
"'Y' know what its like to be attacked by a man who wants y'? Ya, I get ya'." She reassured.
"C'mon, best get outta here before the law finds out." The man gestured you both out of the room, hoisting the body over his shoulder with ease.
You followed the busty woman down the back stairs, leading out of the hotel, avoiding alerting the hotel clerk. The man slumped the unconscious body into the mud.
"What the hell were y' doin' in there anyway, Karen?" He growled.
"Well, I thought I could pick-pocket him if I got 'em where I wanted 'em, but he had other ideas." Karen scowled as she dusted her skirt down.
You smirked at Karen, she reminded you of yourself in years gone by. A skilled con-woman who, occasionally, took the role of damsel in distress a little too seriously.
"I should thank y', uh-, I didn't catch y' name?" The tall man looked into your (e/c) eyes. Igniting a flame in the pit of your stomach, which you couldn't ignore.
"Oh, uh-, (y/n). It's (y/n)." You blurted, catching you off-guard.
He took your considerably dainty feeling hand in his coarse, bear paws. "Thanks again, (y/n)." With that, he strode off to meet the older gentleman who was now sitting in the front of a wagon filled with supplies.
Karen caught you off guard with a small hug of gratitude. "Thank you, (y/n). I hope we catch ya' again someday." She shouted as she trotted off to meet her acquaintances.
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You spent the rest of the day aiding Valentine's sheriff with an outlaw he needed tracking down. Cleet Anderson was camped just outside of Valentine in Cumberland Falls.
"C'mere y' piece o' shit." You forcefully hogtied his hands and feet, dragging him over your shoulder, stowing him securely on Onyx.
"I could get used to this, being strung up by a lady, gettin' me hot!" he snarled. You beat him across his temple, knocking him out. Ugh, you thought to yourself.
It gave you great pleasure getting these men locked up, the same men who tormented you all those years ago. Even more pleasure giving them a beating or two. Your method was to knock them out, only killing them if necessary. You preferred to hear of them swinging or spending the rest of their days in Sisika Penitentiary.
The ride back to Valentine Sheriff's office was haste, you wanted to get back to Strawberry before nightfall. Barely taking time to appreciate the beauty of Cumberland Falls, you gave a firm dig encouraging Onyx to ride faster, something she was great at, as a Thoroughbred.
"I hope he wasn't too much trouble for ya', miss (y/n)." The Sheriff assisted, closing the cast iron cell door, leaving Anderson to sleep off his beating down from you.
"Na, he was a peach." You replied, sarcastically.
"Yeah, sure." The Sheriff scoffed, "Here's y' payment. Spend it in the saloon, y'll need it."
"Oh, and (y/n)," the Sheriff caught you for one last word, "Say, have y' ever heard of a 'Van Der Linde gang'?"
"No?" You scoffed in confusion, "may I ask why?"
"No reason, just we had a few Pinkertons sniffin' about, askin' too many damn questions." Snarled the Sheriff.
"I wanted to see if y'd heard of any trouble recently, so we could get them offa our backs." He questioned further.
"Sorry to disappoint, Sheriff." You replied. "Sounds like somethin' outta a kids story book about cowboys." Smirking, as you took the note stack off the desk and headed out to Onyx.
Despite the Sheriff's offering of Valentine's finest saloon, your only intention was to get back to the comfort of Strawberry.
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