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...
Mid-afternoon sun warmed the uncovered parts of your skin, exposed by a frilly chemise you picked up running errands with Pearson and Mary-Beth. You figured it to be smart purchase, seeing as summer was just on the horizon. Daylight lasted longer, light-nights romanticised the uncivilised life the Van Der Linde gang chose to lead.
Yourself and Arthur hadn't talked in a few days—the breadth of the words uttered was a passing 'Hey there' or 'Good morning' over chores or coffee during sunrise. You felt his azure eyes watching you; but trying to catch his gaze was futile, the cowboy looking away at the slightest move of your head.
You had grown tiresome of the child's-play displayed by a man who wasn't afraid to go after what he wanted; leaving confusion and frustration hung in the air like dust in a desert storm. Growing resentment towards Arthur's only severed ties further.
"I can handle it, Arthur." Snatching the piece of rope that tied one half of a hay bale in place, out of Arthur's hand.
"I told y' I'd take care of it." He rumbled in a hushed tone, avoiding to create anymore commotion than what it was worth.
"Oh—y'know what, fine—," Hurling the hay bale at Arthur's feet, "Y' wanna be a man so bad, huh? But ch' can't be man enough to talk to me!" You spat furiously at the Outlaw who was now staring back at you; matching your resentment.
You huffed your way over to Onyx, fiercely tightening her saddle; causing her to let out a grunt of displeasure. "Sorry, girl." You hummed in her ear.
"(y/n)? (y/n)—" Abigail's sweet voice stopped you in your tracks, pulling at your mares reins to steady up. "What's wrong? What's happenin'?" Worry growing on her face, as she reached out for your arm.
"I'm jus' goin' for a ride out, I'll tell y' later." You dug your spurs into Onyx's side leaving Abigail at the entrance of Horseshoe Overlook.
•
Being back out on Onyx was just what you needed. The breeze thrashed through the loose strands of your (h/c) hair; Onyx appreciated the ride out just as much as you. She was a powerful race horse, steady as a needle, and you'd neglected her needs whilst pulling your weight in camp.
"Y' alright, girl." Giving her a pat on the neck, you slowed up on the outskirts of Emerald Ranch. You'd tacked quite the way out unbeknownst, but it felt good to be away from the Gunslinger's ardent gaze.
Regretting the way you hissed at Arthur before you left, guilt pooled in your stomach. He didn't deserve to been spoken to with the disrespect you'd shown him; but where your emotions were concerned, you didn't care.
"(y/n)?" Hosea's voice echoed behind you, drowned out slightly by the song of various birds and bugs in the vast countryside. "Hi Hosea, I—I was just out for a ride—," Hosea's wise tones interrupted you, "Y' don't need to explain, free country, isn't it?" He chuckled breathlessly.
"Yeah, I guess." You smirked.
"I'm headed back now anyways, y' coming?" Taking Hosea's offer, the pair of you tracked back over the Heartland's in the direction of camp.
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Taking to of the right side of Twin Stack Pass, the Grizzles stood picturesque behind the live stock town of Valentine. "Boy, it was cold up there." Hosea noticed your eye's gazing up at the scenery.
"Arthur told me y's were hauled up there for a while, I'm no good in the cold." Pulling a jacket from Onyx's saddle bag at the thought, the breeze nipped at your goose-pimpled skin. Your admission earned a chuckle from Hosea, "neither was I!" He reminisced on the time the gang spent in Colter less fondly.
"What were y' doin up in Emerald Ranch?" Praying your question did not disrespect the boundaries of the elder gang member. "I was enquiring about a line of work," Hosea started to your relief.
"The stableman, Seamus—he has a cousin or somethin', who's recently bought a very lavish, stolen, stagecoach." Pulling his Turkoman steed to a slow canter. "He said if we can get it back to him, we can take anymore 'coaches that come into our possession there, for a fair price."
"Seems easy enough." Raising your chin at the prospect.
"I mean—I was goin' to go with Arthur, but, with your experience, y' can tag long, if y' like?" Hosea propositioned you.
"I—Uh—yeah, why not." Hosea was right, you did have experience wielding a gun if things didn't go according to plan. What you weren't so convinced with was the potential of doing a job with Arthur.
"He's sweet on you, (y/n)." Hosea's omission felt out the blue; but your hesitation more than likely gave your feeling's away.
"Hm—funny way o' showin' it," you started, "people keep tellin' me this but I ain't seen nothin' of the sort." Your divulgence into your emotions left you feeling embarrassed.
"Ah, (y/n), if there's one thing I know about Arthur," Hosea readjusted his firepower into the tack on his steed, "he's soft on the inside, did he ever tell y' about Mary?"
Your (e/c) eyes met Hosea's, furrowed with curiosity. "No?" You felt like you were intruding on some mystery that was not yet yours to be discovered; but you'd do anything to understand Arthur more.
Hosea explained how Arthur was engaged to Mary Gillis, ultimately ending their relationship due to her families disapproval of Arthur and his association with the Van Der Linde gang. The older Outlaw told of how Arthur's deep love for Mary scarred him; inevitably closing him off to the prospect of getting to know anyone new.
Bundling your mare over the train tracks leading out of Valentine's periphery, you felt even worse that you'd given Arthur such a hard time.
"Oh my God—Hosea, I— I had no idea," You stammered over your helplessness. "Well, you wouldn't, 'cause he doesn't tell anyone." Hosea offering comfort, "listen, the only way y'r going to get anythin' out of him is if you speak to him first," his sagacious nature was all you needed.
"He's a fool, (y/n), but he'd be a moron to let a woman like you slip away." Hosea gathered slight speed, leaving you alone with his words.
•
Closing in on the forested path that disguised camp, Charles called out through the birch's; on guard for anyone passing through who shouldn't be. "It's us, Hosea and (y/n)." The camp elder answered for you.
Hitching Onyx next to Silver Dollar, you placed your hand on Hosea's arm as a gesture of thanks, his age-worn palm covered the back of your hand, smiling at him as he walked over to tell Dutch of his new business proposition.
"Yeah, sure. C'mon Jack, y' ready?" Arthur's southern-drawl called out to the boy over his shoulder, "I just need to get my fishing rod, Uncle Arthur!"
Jack ran towards his tent shared with his Mother and Father. Clocking you hitching up your mare, the young boy bounded over.
"Uncle Arthur, can (y/n) come with us?!" Arthur's eyes darted over to you. "Uh—," He hesitated.
"Yes, of course, Jack! I even got my own pole." Lifting the boy onto Caliban's back.
If you took anything from Hosea's revelations, you knew you had to be the one to address the tension with Arthur. This fishing trip being the prime opportunity to do so.
