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...
As you made your way towards the hotel, you noticed a Dapple Grey Hungarian half-bred in your hitching spot. Odd, you thought to yourself, everyone 'round here knows that's my spot? Tourists? You reassured yourself. Out of towner's trickle into Strawberry in the Spring.
You hitched your mare next to this steed, with thick, muscled legs that could easily knock an overly-confident human down if they dared to search the satchels that sat at each side of the saddle.
You resumed your evening routine, brushing the dust from Onyx's coat, removing the heavy, black leather saddle; giving her a kiss on the snout. You made way for the Sheriff's Office to see if their had been any recent updates on Hawkes.
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To your dismay, a familiar figure towered over the Sheriff's desk. Hadley was sat with an unsure furrow to his brow, whilst Farley kept one hand on his holstered gun.
"My name is Arthur Callahan, I'm a bounty hunter-" the man started. "Here! She'll tell y'!" he gestured to you. Both the Sheriff and his deputy glanced towards you, with a surprised expression. They looked how you felt.
"Tell em' (y/n)," How did he know my name?! ..Of course, Karen..
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"Uh- Yes, uh- Mister.. uh- Callahan here is a friend of mine." You started, unsurely.
"See, fellers, I told y'." He reassured all parties concerned. "Now, this Micah Bell y' have in y'r cell, see, he's a very dangerous man and-" Sheriff Hadley interrupted your new acquaintance, before he could even finish his sentence.
"Mr Callahan, with all due respect, no matter how tough y' are," Condescended Hadley, "he's being taken to Sisika Penitentiary tomorrow morn', armed and secured with prison transport. You've no need to concern yourself here, the hard work is done."
Mr Callahan curled a fist discretely. "Look, Sheriff, Micah Bell has information of the whereabouts of a gang called the O'Driscoll's. Bein' a bounty hunter, y' know I need the money, if I could just talk to him for-"
"Enough, Mr Callahan." Farley was at the end of his tether.
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Your acquaintance put his hands up, surrendering to this war of words. "Okay, sure. Thanks, Sheriff, Deputy" tipping his hat to each of the men.
Mr Callahan sauntered off in the direction of the general store. "These damn bounty hunters," started Farley. "Who the heck was that guy, (y/n)? Not a clue, you thought to yourself.
"Just some guy I met down in Blackwater." You lied. "Who's Micah Bell?" You shot back, quizzing the lawmen, avoiding any more questions about how you know Mr Callahan.
"Just some damn outlaw, came up here with a black feller, shootin' his mouth off, started a damn brawl. Got Norman pretty banged up, the black feller made off on his horse." Farley hissed.
"Jesus, all this happenin' when I ain't in town?!" You tried to lighten the sour mood. Sheriff Hadley laughed. "We got it under control, miss (y/n)."
You re-adjusted your gun belt and took a seat at the desk, "so, any news on Hawkes?"
"Nothin' yet, but as soon as we hear, we'll let y' know." Hadley replied.
With that, you took yourself to the general store, buying a bar of soap and some oatcakes to make it look less conspicuous where you were actually going.
•
"So, you in for your usual tonight?" Chip coded. "Yes, Mr Cooper, that would be great."
Chip opened the trap door behind the counter. You climbed down the rickety step ladder leading to the basement.
You hit the cobbled-stone with a thud. Antique brass candle lights lined the walls of the make-shift bar. A hefty distillery tank stood in the corner, pumping and churning Coopers beloved shine.
A bar stood next to it, bottles of Moonshine on log shelves mounted behind the bartender, fitting the Strawberry aesthetic.
The bartender poured a short glass of Moonshine for you. "There y' are, miss, hope y' ain't been workin' too hard out there." You collected the glass; tossed a few cents on the counter; turning once again to find your usual spot taken.
You walked closer towards the chair, ready to kick this guy out of your seat, until you recognised the blue eyes peering up at you.
"(Y/n)..." Arthur's gruff voice made your name sound the most beautiful melody you'd ever heard.
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