NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY: RDR2

39. NEARER HEAVEN OVERHEAD

"It lifts existence on a plane of snow

One level higher than the earth below,

One level nearer heaven overhead,

And last year's berries shining scarlet red."

—Robert Frost

I stood amidst the carnage, watching as the remaining lawmen and volunteering townsfolk  lifted the bodies of the fallen, carrying them into the back of borrowed wagons. The sheriff stood beside me, shoving chewing tobacco into his mouth by the handful.

"Did you catch the guys?" I asked, dreading his response.

"Not yet, slippery sons o' bitches." he replied, spitting out a glob of the tobacco. I grimaced as it landed on the tip of his boot, unbeknownst to him.

"Well, I'll be sure to keep to the main roads." I lied, tipping my hat to him and turning back towards Aine.

I mounted quickly, my reason for coming into town all but a distant memory as I spurred her into a flying gallop back up the hill. Arthur was camped close enough to the town that they had surely been followed back, it wouldn't surprise me if I walked into an empty camp, or a camp equally littered with corpses. I couldn't think of, even in my wildest imagination, one reason that they would willingly cause a scene like that so close to home. All those dead lawmen, Cornwall himself... and for what? The walls were closing in on them, and by extension, they were closing in on me.

I veered Aine off course, bolting into the thick tree line to the side of the road. On the off chance I was being watched I didn't want to be the one to lead unwanted company back to their camp. It was all beginning to feel real, the end of their scramble was surely arriving. They had no where to turn, and Dutch was obviously not to keen on laying low. Regardless of whether Arthur joined them or not, they were never going to make it to Tahiti. At this rate, they would be lucky to make it till tomorrow.

We burst through the trees at the top of the hill, heading down the path with pounding hearts and a desperate hope to see a bustling camp. As I got closer I saw Karen standing guard, rifle held loosely in her shaking hands.

"Karen!" I called out, she looked up briefly, a spaced look on her face. "Where is Arthur?"

"They just went out." she slurred.

"Where?"

"How in hell would I know?" she said, waving her hand dismissively. "They'll be back soon enough."

I sighed, dismounting and making my way into camp in the search for more answers. I spotted John chopping wood at the mouth of the cave and jogged over to greet him. He looked up as I approached, the colour had returned to his cheeks, the exhaustion somewhat dissipated. It was nice to see him in his own clothes again, to see him looking like himself. A little gaunter, but himself nonetheless.

"Hi John, you know where Arthur went just now?" I asked, out of breath from the ride. He put down the axe and placed his hands on his hips.

"That boy from the reservation came down, something about some horses. They went with 'em." He said, squinting against the sun.

"You hear about Cornwall?"

"Unfortunately, yes." he replied, eyes flicking towards Dutch's tent, where Micah sat surveying the goings on of the camp. He seemed to linger on me with each scan.

"Why the hell-"

"I don't know, I weren't there." He cut me off, shaking his head in frustration. "The things we do don't seem to make much sense no more."