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

chapter 33; fleeting joy

For the first time in weeks, Arthur had a full night's rest. After Abigail force fed him three bowls of stew, Charlotte poured him a hot bath. While he soaked, she cut his hair back to it's usual short length and shaved his face. With a fresh clean union suit, he fell asleep within seconds of hitting the pillow, Charlotte's arm loosely draped over him as a protective shield. 

The peace was short lived as the following morning brought dozens of questions. Micah returned in the quiet of the night, slipping in unnoticed. Nobody jumped to hear what g Everyone wanted to hear whatever information Arthur could offer them. Did he know what happened to John? Where are the others and when will they be back? He gave them the little bit that he knew; they separated to return home alone and avoid being caught but knew nothing of their whereabouts now. They could walk in at this moment, in a few days or not at all.

"We buried Hosea and Lenny side by side..." Charlotte drawls, stirring her breakfast on the plate. 

Arthur swallows hard. Their deaths was something he'd not allowed himself to think about. "Where?"

"Not far from here. It's quiet. Peaceful."

The group grows silent, unsure of what to say. The loss hit everyone hard but it's nothing compared to the pain Charlotte has felt. First the news of her father figure and dear friends deaths then half of her surviving family goes missing for months on end. Now, still reeling with the loss of Hosea, the return of Arthur, the reality that her father may never return hits her at full force. She loses a father, the gang loses it's leader. 

Reverend is the first to suggest Arthur step in and take Dutch's place during his absence, however long it may last. But Molly reminds the group of his condition, still too weak to ride long distance let alone lead a group of outlaws on the run. This leaves a prime opportunity for Micah to step to the plate, offering his services being that he was Dutch's right hand man. No one knows his plans quite like Micah does. Or so he claims. 

The topic is put on the back burner for the time being, the crowd growing tired of talking about depressing things. Grief weighs heavy enough its difficult to take a breath between the losses. 

But some problems are impossible to avoid, too urgent to leave be until everyone is ready to handle them. 

"They've got John, they arrested him." Abigail dutifully reminds. Much like Charlotte, her mind has been only on saving her man though she lacked the conviction in ever actually going out to find him. She fell into a state of unawareness, as if the only thing she was capable of was taking care of little Jack. Otherwise she was in her tent, staring at the wall, completely lost in thought.

 This perks Arthur's interest, him having thought his brother dead. Last he'd seen, gunfire was raining down on them and Just was just a few too many steps behind. Dutch had lead him to believe he was killed, much like Hosea. "And he ain't hung yet?" 

"Not yet." Charlotte inserts herself back into the conversation. Where others strength failed, Charlotte and Sadie stood up to do what the rest couldn't. "They've got him in Sisika, working on a chain gang."

The rest of the day dragged on, spirits lifted with Arthur's return but still at all time low. Nonstop rain pouring down, keeping everyone cooped beneath shelter does nothing to help. At night fall, huddled around the fire with plates of fish and potatoes, Micah once again offers to take place as gang leader. The usual strong team that would jump to veto the mere suggestion was lacking, dwindled down to only Charlotte, Sadie and a dilapidated Arthur. The voices of reason are either missing or dead. 

"You'd have my daddy dead so you could jump on his throne and send us all to our deaths, wouldn't you?" Charlotte spits through gritted teeth. 

Jaw tightening, Micah leans toward her. "You're old man trusted me fer a reason, you'd be wise to do the same girl."

"He ain't dead. He'll be back for us. If you knew him well as you claim to, you wouldn't be so eager to bury him." She keeps her spiteful tone but is hardly convinced by her own words. Dutch had changed much before the robbery, what had Guarma done to add to the damage?

Micah sneers, their eyes locked together like jungle cats ready to attack. The swamp shack door swinging open interrupts their bickering. Dutch's figure appears in the doorway, dripping water over the already damp floorboards. Bloodshot eyes, cuts and scrapes, soaked black hair clinging to his face; still only half as bad as Arthur had looked. It takes seconds for Charlotte to drop her argument with Micah, springing from her seat to embrace her father. 

"I told them you'd come back. I told them!" Charlotte boasts. Dutch wraps his arms around her, soaking her clothing consequentially. 

"My girl, you've always had faith in me." Dutch coos, cradling the back of her hand in his hand, waving thick fingers through soft dark locks, not unlike his owns. 

"Always." She murmurs, feeling safe in his arms and content with the return of the only two men she's ever loved.