Arthur Morgan is finally happy.
A wife, a daughter, and another child on the way, he's finally living the life he never thought he deserved. Finally free from the gang and with Colm dead, Arthur looks to continue his family and marital bliss, but...
"Jesus." John curses, his eyes following the shot glass to Abigail's lips as she tilts her head back and effortlessly swallows the amber liquid.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she makes sure to meet his eye while she signals the bartender for another, adding the empty glass to the growing collection beside her on the bar. John shakes his head defeated and turns back towards the table where you and Arthur sit before a worn map stretched across the tiny bar table.
"She's about two shots away from passing out."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Arthur simply grunts, barely listening to his brother as his eyes continue to scan over the map, seeking out potential hideouts and safe routes.
"Let her grieve John." You offer him a weak smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. The truth was you wanted to drown your sorrows too, and had it not been for your infection making you feel like death warmed up you probably would have joined Abigail. Remembering your pills, you reach into your satchel to find them, shaking them out onto your hand you frown at the tiny caplets in your hand.
What were you going to do when you ran out?
Wanted outlaws didn't have the luxury of walking into pharmacies, let alone being able to afford them while you were all on the run. It was only because Arthur had connections with the saloon owner, having helped him with a rat problem in the past, that you'd all felt safe staying here for the night while you plan your next move.
"I'll get you more."
Looking up from the medicine you see Arthur and John staring back at you, Arthur's face serious and tinged with protectiveness. Nodding you swallow them back, quickly shoving the bottle back in your satchel, deciding that was a problem for down the line.
"So, what's the plan?" you ask, nodding to the map where Arthur had plotted a line from St Denis and up to a place called Emerald Ranch.
Arthur stares at you, ignoring your question. Clearly, he wasn't going to let you change the subject so easily.
"Ya sure, you're up for this? I can find somewhere safe for you, an' come back when all this is dealt with. Micah won't find you, I'll-."
"You'll trust me when I say I'm okay. We're in this together Arthur."
He simply nods, your tone not allowing him room to question you. Turning his gaze back to the map he traces the line with his finger, guiding you through the swamps and across the planes.
"We'll need horses. I got a friend in Lagras who could probably set us up with a few, but he'll want paying. There's an orange plantation out of town, John and I can hit it on the way."
You nodded, following along. You hated having to resort back to crime but since you were on the run you had few options and even fewer dollars.
Arthur continues, his finger dragging across the paper. "Once we get the horses, we'll work our way up to Emerald Ranch. They don't bother if there's a price on your head there, so we'll be safe while we wait for Micah. He'll have to pass down here." He points to a trail not far from the ranch, "We ambush him when he passes him through."
