Dutch's Daughter [[RDR2 Arthur Morgan x OC]]

chapter 31; swimming lessons

Spring air carries the aroma of wildflowers and warm soil through the open cabin windows. The breeze chills Arthur's bones, stirring him in the linen sheets. Sitting on the beds edge, he takes in the state of the small cabins single room. Home knitted blankets cover the back of two chairs, a cowhide rug rests in front of the fireplace and filled bookshelves line one wall. Fresh coffee is waiting for him on the furnace, his mug already set out for him beside the pot. He has the luxury of sleeping in most days now.

Mug filled and steaming, he steps out onto the front porch. Enormous mountains painted with every shade of green are at the vast end of a massive valley filled with a rainbow of flowers. A herd of antelope stir in the distance, feasting on dew covered grass. But the best view is the laundry line, where Charlotte stands next to a wicker basket full of freshly washed linens. Carefully balancing, she clips the white sheets to the tight line.

The front door claps shut and she spins to face him. His favorite smile stretches from freckled cheek to freckled cheek as she bends down to fetch the carefully wrapped bundle taking a morning nap in the laundry pile. Arthur closes the distance between them, instinctively reaching out. She places the swaddle in his arms and his son's face, not unlike his own, peers up at him, eyes hardly open as they fall back into a blissful sleep in the safety of his father's arms.

He looks to his wife, the beauty that brought this wonderful gift into the world with a smile. But hers has fallen. Her face droops with a sudden sadness, tears welling in her eyes. The sky begins to turn dark, thunder rolling in the distance as dangerous clouds form above. Thick rain beats down, drenching them immediately. The crack of breaking tree trunks and rushing water sound in the distance. Panicked, Arthur turns to run inside, clinging his crying son to his chest but his feet are stuck in the mud.

"Wake up, Arthur!" Charlotte screams through a hoarse sob.

A wave, tall as the mountaintops, crashes through the valley, hurling in their direction and destroying everything in it's path. He has no other choice than to just hold the infant as tightly as he can, looking at his family one last time before the force takes them all. The last thing he feels is droplets of muddy water on his cheeks before smoke is stinging his nostrils, choking him all together. But it's not the consequential cough that wakes him but rather Dutch gripping his shoulders, shaking him wildly back and forth.

"Wake up!" His voice demands. "Wake up, Arthur!"

"Shit..." Arthur groans, coming to reality once again. His sore bones stretch as he leaps to his feet, assessing the situation at hand. Smoke pours in from beneath the door, quickly filling the small bunkroom. "Go on, get out of here! I'll be right behind you." He calls out, balancing on the iron bar of the bunk beds, struggling to breathe evenly. Micah heaves the door open, the hall outside a chaotic mess of running feet and panicked voices. Dutch takes Arthur by the arm, forcing him into motion down the narrow corridor. The ship lurches, rocking abruptly to the right, sending stacked crates flying to the ground. Fallen boxes divide him from the others, losing his footing, his back colliding with the floor.

"Dutch!" Arthur calls out, struggling to catch his breath.

"I'm okay! Are you?" Dutch finds a hole in the wall of crates, looking over at Arthur.

Pain pulses in Arthur's leg. One of the crates is keeping his ankle pinned between wall and box, the bones certainly crushed. "I'm stuck!" He calls over.

Dutch sees the bottom of his boot trapped beneath the crate, twisted in an unnatural way. His stomach sinks, a desperate situation only getting worse by the second. Adrenaline takes over and he grips the hefty box, lifting with all of his strength to raise it just enough for Arthur to pull his mangled limb free. Beads of sweat drip down Dutch's face as he drops the massive weight, taking an exhausted breath of relief. "Can you walk?" He looks through the gap in the wall at his wounded son.

Arthur tests out the ankle, putting light pressure on it. The pain is agonizing but he sees no other choice. It's either walk or sink. "I'm fine! I'll find you up top." He manages a nod, hardly selling himself on the idea. Dutch holds his eyes, scared to leave him behind without knowing he can get himself off the ship. A loud explosion sounds and they know they're running out of time. With one last nod, they part ways, Dutch at a dead run and Arthur at a slow hobble.

Eventually, he crawls out of the winding corridors to the ships deck. Dozens of crew men scurry about, pained cries sounding out in the distant. Two lifeboats have been deployed unsuccessfully, now upturned in the water, it's passengers no where in sight. The glow of a raging fire illuminates the deck, Arthur unable to tell where it's sourcing from. With no viable rafts left to board, men are throwing themselves overboard, taking their chances in the roaring waves. No familiar faces appear in the crowd. Dutch is no where to be found. The deck is rapidly tilting further into the water, making it near impossible to stand upright.

Arthur's dream comes to his mind once more; A homestead with Charlotte as his wife, a son and all the property he could dream of. If he wants a chance at that, he has to get off this ship, even if it means risking drowning in the deep ocean. His calloused knuckles grip the metal rail, flushing white as he struggles to lift himself over over the ledge. He can see nothing but pitch black beneath him. Taking a leap of faith, he throws himself over, the freezing water cutting through him, paralyzing his entire body. Determination keeps him alive once again as he forces his limbs to move, broken ankle managing to propel him to the surface. Gasping for air, he finds a floating crate and clings to it, fighting to keep himself above the water line but the waves are determined to do otherwise.

The night is seemingly endless as he fights for his life on the crate, listening to the wails of the dying men surrounding him, praying that his colleagues are not among them.

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[A/N] ~ Thank you so much for nearly 9k reads for Dutch's Daughter and 16.7k for Blessed are the Peacemakers! You guys are awesome! <3