Traveler trilogy Book 2, updates every Friday!
Five years after killing Levi Cornwall, Arthur Morgan is happy. He has a wife who loves him, an honest job he enjoys, and two beautiful children named Sadie and Hiram. All of it is turned on its head, h...
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Warning: period-accurate racial slurs are used in this chapter. They do not in any way reflect the author's views, and are only used to make this story a more authentic period piece. Don't be a racist asshole like some of the people mentioned in this chapter.
"You look a sight," Jenny grunted, dismounting Willow. She threw the horse's reins around the saddle horn to keep the mare from stepping on them and knelt down beside Arthur.
"Ugh," Arthur groaned as she seized him around the armpits and propped him up against the tree he'd been lying under. "Where am I," he moaned raspily, rubbing his forehead and smacking his lips. All too familiar with the furry taste of a hangover on her tongue, Jenny smirked and handed him her canteen from Willow's saddle.
"Near Flatneck Station," she answered. "Looks like you and Lenny had quite the time of it last night."
"We did," Arthur grunted, getting slowly to his feet. "From what I remember of it, at least." He paused and rubbed his forehead. "Shit. Did I kill somebody?"
"No," said Jenny, chuckling. "Just scared the daylights out of some feller is all. Sheriff Malloy and his deputies picked up Lenny, but you apparently got away. I tracked you here and brought you your horse. We've got to get Micah out of the Strawberry jail, after all."
Arthur grunted and took another sip of water. "One thing at a time, kid. You look a sight, too. When's the last time you slept or ate somethin'?"
Jenny froze. When had she last slept? Or consumed something that wasn't alcohol? She knew the answer, but she hated thinking it. "Since you told me about Mac," she admitted, hanging her head. "I... I don't rightly know what to do with myself anymore these days. If it weren't for you and Charles and the fact that so many people in the gang depend on me to help feed them and keep them safe, I would have gone already. It's not worth hanging around with Pinks nipping at our heels."
He sighed and popped a wad of tobacco in his mouth, spitting the juice out after a bit of time spent deep in thought. "Forget the Pinkertons for a minute," he said. "You're dead right that we got too many people to protect, and too many mouths to feed these days. You can't go. Dutch needs you."
"That's bullshit," Jenny snorted. She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a stick of jerky. She broke it in two and gave some to Arthur before yanking a bite off the remaining half with her teeth.
"See, unlike the rest of them," she said as she chewed, "I don't give a damn about Dutch. He wanted to leave me there on the side of that road, and I'd be dead now if Mac hadn't managed to convince him to reconsider. I harbor no love for that man. It's folk like you and Mary-Beth and Hosea I care about. I can go any time I want to, but I can't leave the rest of you behind to starve and get shot. Which brings me to why I'm here with your horse."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Micah," he sighed at last. "You're not comin', kid. Your temper runs too hot, and you and Micah together are like a couple of ornery chickens fightin' over a grape. I'm doin' this alone, mostly so you can't tempt me to hang him myself."
