HIS II | Arthur Morgan x Reader

Morton's Fork

"Anything?"

He shakes his head, and your shoulders slump. You'd begged him to ride into Valentine, hoping desperately to have some news from Mary on how your children were doing.

"She'll write soon sweetheart, try not to worry." He swings down from the chestnut mustang he rides.

As a precaution, Arthur had opted not to tell Mary where you would all be heading out of concern for her and your children's safety. So, to keep in touch, Mary had promised to always write three identical letters with envelopes addressed to a Ms. Cartright, that she would then send on to Blackwater, Valentine, and Rhodes. Whichever town was closest would be where you would collect your mail.

"How was the ride?" you ask, knowing that he had risked so much to try and provide you with the comfort of a few written words from his ex.

He shrugs avoiding your eyes, "S'fine. Few more posters appeared in town though didn't see ours, but Abigail's and John's were up."

You sigh knowing how much harder things were about to become.

Arthur is silent as he tethers the mustang, his practiced hands working slowly the leather straps of the saddle. He hasn't mentioned your medicine which you take to be another failed excursion, you'd only a few pills left, and you'd tried to edge out your doses as long as possible, but your symptoms were growing more frequent. You observe him quietly, taking in the tightness of his jaw and the dark shadows circling his eyes that have been there since your night together in the tent. You knew he held his emotions close to his chest, but his behavior was beginning to scare you, and the paranoia that he would run off and do something stupid still lingered.

"John's feeling much better."

"That's good." He picks up a stray brush and begins working it through the sweat that collected under the saddle.

"I can't tell if the women here actually find him charming or if they're just too polite to say otherwise." He doesn't respond, he just continues his brushing.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

You frown when he doesn't turn around. "I'm gonna go check in with Abigail. I'll see you for dinner, okay?"

Watching you disappear into the tent Arthur closes his eyes and presses his forehead into the mustang's mane, letting the smell calm his racing heart. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls free the letter to read over its words once more.

Arthur,

I trust you are safe and well.

I received your letter; I am sorry to hear your wife is still unwell, it does not surprise me that her medicine was not recognized by other doctors for it is quite new. My doctor is well-traveled and as such he often comes across solutions to maladies not yet recognized in our corner of the world. I visited him after your letter and he of course provided what he could, unfortunately, there is not enough to split between multiple correspondences. I fear I must know your location or give it to you directly to ensure she receives it promptly.

Please write back with how you intend to proceed.

Yours,

Mary

Hearing footsteps approaching he stuffs the letter back into his pocket and scrubs his jaw.

"How was town?" John stalls when Arthur turns, his face dropping. "Jesus, you look like shit. Something happen?"

"Nothing I can't handle." Pushing past his brother he makes his way to his tent, hoping to get some time alone to think. Hearing John shuffle his still-recovering body around he curses when he begins to follow. "Ain't you supposed to be recovering?"