Know My Name - a RDR2 Story

Run to Rhodes

Let me tell you a story about a young woman who fell into two crowds: the good and the bad.
Of course, there are pros and cons to each category, but I suppose it only depends on the way you look at it...

TW!: swearing, slight depictions of injury

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The water swooshed and swayed gently, the distant jumping fish and a horse drinking seemed to be the only sounds that echoed around Flat Iron Lake. Brutus was minding his own business, drinking from the lake peacefully without a care in the world. Kam, on the other hand, cared about how dirty her Shire had gotten and had decided that he needed a good wash. He was dusty and covered in dirt and mud from his neck down. It was a lot of ground to cover, but Kam figured that she could do it.

Brutus' head snapped toward his rider, watching as she came to a sudden stop in the water. Kam watched as his eyes drifted off to her left hand carrying what looked like a brush; she panicked a little. "I's jus' a brush... no need t' worry-" Brutus let out a high whine and galloped away in the water, splashing Kam with every trot.

Kam, who was now soaked from the head down, let out a groan of desperation and stood from her crouched position amongst the lake. "Brutus! I ain't chasin' you round the whole damn lake! Yer gettin' a wash, whether you like it er not!" he detested baths. Brutus was always a stubborn bastard when it came to washing, he barely let Kam get near him with a brush. Now he was getting a bath with a brush? He wasn't having it.

The Shire let out another whine and slowed down to toss his head back and lift his front leg, protesting with his body language. Brutus might have been stubborn as a mule, but so was Kam. Neither of them was having it when it came to bad attitudes. "You best get over here, Brutus! It'll only take a second!" she shouted at the stallion, who threw his head back again as if he were mocking her.

"Alright, you bast'rd. I caught you once, I'll catch you again." Kam, of course, was referring to the time she tamed the beast. Brutus seemed to take her declaration of war as a challenge.

If you have ever seen a Western movie, you should know very well that every single one of them has at least one standoff scene between two gunmen. Now, if you take that image and replace it with Kam vs. Brutus, you will understand just what this scene looks like. Neither of them moved but were both ready to bolt. Kam was never the first one to shoot and would always been the last one to run; those rules would still apply now.

With a lot of splashing and whines and grunts, the two best friends took off after each other- or rather, Kam took after Brutus. Profanities and threats were being yelled left and right while her stallion only seemed to laugh at her poor efforts. They chased each other around for what seemed like hours, Kam's clothes being completely drenched all the way through, showing her white undergarments like her shirt was transparent. All this splashing water had eventually gotten on Brutus one way or another, so even if he protested the bath, he still got one.

Somewhere around the shore in knee-high water, Kam's bare feet had lost their balance on something slippery underwater, causing her to fall over and land butt-first into the lake. If anything from the waist down was dry then, it most certainly wasn't now. Kam's chest heaved in exhaustion, not having the best stamina, as she tried to catch her breath. She was practically gasping for air by the time she hit the water, her legs feeling light and weightless from running a little too hard. Her palms were the only things holding her upright, otherwise she'd flop onto her back and probably drown.

The water was knee high when she fell, so when she sat on the murky lake floor, it ran up to her chest with every wave. Her eyes were closed before another splash of water forced them open to look at Brutus as he stood over her in a triumphant stance. She scoffed. "Yeah yeah, you win this round, but I ain't the only one soaked." Kam shooed Brutus away with a tired hand before dropping it back down into the lake with a splash. The Shire trotted away, creating a ripple, and returned back to camp, which just so happened to be about 20 or 30 feet away from where the O'Driscoll had fallen.