Fire and Water: a Red Dead story

14

If Arthur had the time or words to describe John, he'd say he was a swirling ball of hellfire barely restrained half of the time. He'd also say he'd had the most blessed luck. The boy, well he wasn't much of a boy now, still acted solely on his anger, his brain taking a good while to catch up with his actions. Unlike Arthur, he was first to shoot, then think. 

Arthur on the other hand was careful, he knew how to play his cards, how to gauge a situation. Nowadays, it was him and John riding out to do jobs, and it seemed like John seemed hellbent on causing chaos wherever he went. Arthur had tried to keep him cool, keep him from pulling his guns at the first sight of trouble, but John always knew when to flee. It was in his nature, to know deep down, that he was in trouble.  When to fire off a volley of shots as cover and run, shooting off bullets and curses as he went. Sometimes, even avoidable trouble developed into gunfights because of this unique ability. 

And somehow, Arthur watched this flighty, hotheaded, hellfire boy, man now really, because damn, where did the years, go exactly, become an outlaw in his own right. There were times he could still see the little John Marston staring back at him, and he hoped he did right by that little kid, because this wasn't the life for no little kid, not really. He had come to that realization years before, during one of his lonely morning sketches that he did rarely now. He had been young himself and vulnerable when Dutch had found him. He didn't know quite how to feel about that, so he pushed it away, writing a little about it in the corner of his notebook. 

Still, nothing he could do about it now. He was a seasoned outlaw, had even robbed a bank. He was twenty-seven now, a long way from fourteen. 

The Van der Linde gang had begun to grow, something Arthur had yet to become accustomed to. They had struck up a partnership with a slippery man named Josiah Trelawney, he never stuck around much, and Arthur never really considered him a part of the gang, but the jobs he brought back to them were truly helpful. Dutch himself had changed in the years, his ideas on philanthropy gradually degrading and turning into a general disgust for civilized society and government in general.

Arthur generally agreed with him, as civilization began to creep further and further, they began to be more and more wary. He started to feel the slightest bit trapped, and he hated it. 

Hosea hadn't changed much, except he had grown quieter as Dutch had grown louder. They often had loud arguments with each other, Hosea had problems with the way the gang had changed their philosophy. 

You said we would be above the other degenerates Dutch. You said the money we brought in would go towards people that need it. Remember? Now we kill people just for killin'. We're no better than the damn O'Driscolls. 

There had been an uproar in camp about that, and Dutch had been furious about that implication. Arthur remembered taking John for a three-day hunting trip until things cooled down. He reckoned he'd still look out for him, no matter how old he got. 

Ms. Grimshaw too had changed, it seemed they all had, she was harsher, harder lines, and sterner. Arthur figured she must be unsettled with the changes and took it out on the easiest available person. Most times it was John, as he was the youngest, but even he was starting to age out of her administration, something she refused to acknowledge. 

They had a camp cook now, a Mr. Pearson. He had joined a month or so back, riding beside Dutch, and Arthur remembered thinking if this was how it was going to be from now on. He was decent and he appreciated his work, he just didn't know how to adjust to the changes. 

He hadn't really talked to John about any of this, and didn't really plan on it either. John kept everything very close to his chest, afraid to let the world see his emotions. He spent years cultivating a tough exterior and stuck to it, telling the world off any chance he got. Arthur understood his thinking, the world was repulsed by the likes of them for so long, so might as well piss off the world before you could get hurt more.