NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY: RDR2

42. BITTERNESS TO MOCK

"A plow, they say, to plow the snow.

They cannot seem to plant it, no—

Unless in bitterness to mock

At having cultivated rock."

—Robert Frost

Rooster let out a deafening howl as morning broke, dragging me suddenly out of the dream state I had been floating in. I opened my eyes, groaning as he continued his unrelenting song. Arthur bolted upright, sucking in a gasp of air as consciousness snapped back to him. I reached out my hand, laying it gently on his back for comfort.

"Relax, it's just Rooster." I say, pulling him back down. He squeezed his eyes shut and settled back into the bed, wrapping one arm under me.

"He comin' with us to Wyoming?" he mumbled, irritated. I chuckled, resting my head against his chest.

"You're grumpy in the mornin'." I laugh, patting his stomach.

"I'm grumpy in the afternoon's too."

"And the evenin's?"

"Depends where I'm sleepin'." He replied, burying his face in my sprawled-out hair.

I could of stayed like this, just like this, for the remainder of my breathing hours. In this tent, in this bed, the looming destruction seemed so much further away. In here, it felt like we had enough time, like no one was waiting for us. These brief morning moments of blissful peace, always cut so unceremoniously short.

"I gotta head back." Arthur mumbled, stretching his arms above his head. I lifted myself from his chest, rolling onto my back as he dragged himself to his feet. "I'm sure they'll be needin' me for somethin'."

He was probably right, they always seemed to have a list of things that they deemed only Arthur able to complete. 'They' being Dutch, and from the sounds of it Micah had taken up the mantle as well. I could see Dutch's motives well enough, his desperate scramble to cling onto the power and influence that he'd once held, his need to be seen as the guiding light in the darkness even if he's the one who broke the lamp in the first place. I didn't much care for it, but I understood what it was. Micah... was an enigma. What could he possibly be gaining from the downfall of the gang? They could make more money together; they could go for bigger scores together. It made no sense to stir the pot, and yet he kept stirring. Was it a power grab? Surely not, there would be no power to seize soon enough. Was it to eliminate the competition? It couldn't be, as he was sure to eliminate himself in the process. It made no sense to me, and that's what made him all the more dangerous.

"You sellin' today?" Arthur asked as he fastened his shirt. I shook my head, watching how his hands flexed as he so carefully hooked each button.

"Not today, Cripps has got a few more things to work on." I said, an idea suddenly springing to mind. I had no intention to waste an afternoon waiting for another of my friends to be killed, not when I could potentially do something about it. "I'm comin' with you."

"Nora, it ain't no place to be right now..." Arthur warned, looking over at me with spent eyes.

"You spoke to John? About leavin'?" I asked, brushing off his concern. He pursed his lips, nodding slowly. "And?"

"He heard me."

"Great, but it ain't just John is it?" I said, pushing myself up, not caring to wrap the sheets around me. "Tilly, Mary-Beth, hell...even Karen, if she's still in there. They are friends; they might listen to me."