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...
The torrid, heavy air of Lemoyne would take some getting used to. Humidity clung to your lungs as you blew out a plume of smoke from a last inhale of a cigarette. Whipping the butt out into the eastern shore of Flat Iron Lake, you dipped your toes into the water; desperately trying to find some release from the already sweltering morning climate.
Footsteps cladded along dock you were hanging from, a coffee cup made its way over your shoulder; Arthur sitting himself down beside you.
"Y'alright?" He started, adjusting his positioning beside you; thighs lightly grazing each others.
"Yeah—thank you." Taking the coffee from his grip.
"You been quiet.. Y' sure y'r okay?" Arthur's blue eyes were soft and concerned. You placed your palm over his bear paw of a hand; squeezing it in reassurance.
"I just don't particularly like bein' this far South," you admitted, "I left here for a reason, Arthur, i-if someone recognised me..." Your voice laden with worry, Arthur wrapped his arm around your waist.
"I won't let anythin' happen t' y'." Placing his temple on yours in reassurance.
Five days passed since leaving Horseshoe Overlook. The upheaval had left sorrow in your heart you felt ridiculous for feeling; but something about that place felt like home, and it had been ripped away from you so suddenly.
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"C'mon," Arthur nudged your shoulder, hoisting himself up from the wooden pier, "let's get outta camp for a while." A smirk tugged at his lips.
"And do what, exactly?" You raised your brow at Arthur, (e/c) eyes glittered with flirtation.
"Well, work, but—" You rolled your eyes at the cowboy, "Ah don't be like that, darlin'."
Arthur let out a playful chuckle, "Dutch asked us to meet him in town, after that, we could.. y'know." Shrugging his shoulders, trying to find the best way to ask to spend sometime with you.
"Le'me just get changed then." You waltzed past Arthur, taking a final look at him over your shoulder.
Migrating South had Arthur opt for a cool linen white shirt most days, leaving his collar open. The small peak at his chest invited temptation, adding to the heavy heat of Scarlett Meadows.
The money you earned with Hosea couldn't have come at a better time. You used your share to order some new clothes from the general store in Rhodes. Opting for navy prairie skirt, you'd thrown on a white linen work blouse and wrapped your (h/c) hair in a low bun; leaving a few strands to frame your face. You re-adjusted the tan gun belt on your waist, checking stock on ammunition. Lastly rolling a short jacket in to your satchel, on the off chance the weather would cool.
"Jesus—what the hells takin y' so long?" Arthur propped his shoulder against the wood pole holding one side of the canopy.
"A ladies got to look nice, Mr Morgan." You shot him a smirk; pulling on your work boots.
