may i stand unshaken [Arthur Morgan × OC]

Chapter 11

The relentless blizzard persisted through the night and even the next morning continued to drive icy snow across Colter. But after a while, the sun lit up the mountain peaks. Without anyone noticing, I took slow cautious steps around the corner of the house, where the sharp gusts of wind couldn't reach me, and sank awkwardly onto a bench covered with a thin layer of frost. By the way, it was mid-spring, and snow was spreading on the thick branches of the green firs. The crackling frost touched his face, turning it a deep red colour. Life high up in the mountains was not like a magical paradise. Breathtaking views from the top of the mountain of small towns, fields and lakes were hidden behind a layer of snowfall and chilly fog the whole time we were here. I would have liked to see the mesmerising beauty in this nature, but it was deeply hidden under fears and worries.

I was awakened by Charles, who came in to check my wound and apply a fresh bandage, as he had promised. He and the chatter of the other members of the gang told me that most of the male crew had gone on their first deal after the ferry robbery. To be precise, it was now Leviticus Cornwall's train that the O'Driscolls also wanted to attack. A sort of revenge from Van der Linde and an opportunity to settle old scores, however much Dutch might try to mention them less. The desire to put sticks in the wheels of an old enemy was higher. But who the hell was this Leviticus Cornwall? I didn't have time to find out the details. Even though the gang had fallen apart after Blackwater, this case would renew the bandits' former spirit, after all, such was our life. Sighing, I stretched out my wounded leg, the pain of which had been bothering me all night, pulling me out of a restless sleep more than once. I wrapped my arms around myself and exhaled slowly. Somewhere in the distance I could hear voices, as if they were coming from under the most unreachable sky. It was like there was nothing around me but white snow. Richard wouldn't have liked it here. He didn't like winter, preferring it to the sweltering heat. I liked something in between. When the air is soaked with a pleasant warmth, when nature is green and the sun's soft rays warm the earth, when a light breeze touches my face and hair and the melodious trills of birds are heard everywhere. It's as if everything around you is beginning to live again.

- Hey, here you are!

I shuddered in surprise, clutching at my heart, and barely contained my fearful shriek. Dutch, towering over the whiteness of the large figure in black, noticed my reaction and laughed good-naturedly.

- Sorry, my girl, - he said, sitting down gently beside me. - I didn't mean to scare you.

- Are you back already? - I asked, furrowing my eyebrows, then shook my head to clear it. - I guess I'd gotten too caught up in my own thoughts.

- Damn, I'm bothering you, right? - man sighed and started to get up, apologising, but I grabbed his big palm and pulled him back down.

- It's okay, Dutch, - I smiled softly. - You're not bothering me.

He nodded, squeezing my hand affectionately in his. Sighing, I rested my head on the gang leader's shoulder, staring up at the peaks of the snow-capped mountains. The sheep fur of the man's coat tickled my skin. It seemed like it had been forever since Dutch and I had spent time together like this, talking about various topics. Hosea had been my teacher, my mentor, who had given me knowledge and skills that were useful not only in the criminal life of the gang, while Dutch had truly replaced my father. Many who didn't even have a purpose for existence grew up under his strong hand. The man always believed in us and made us believe in ourselves. He surrounded himself with bandits, true scum who knew nothing but pain, cruelty and struggle, and united them into a family following a common purpose.

- I've been meaning to tell you, - the black-haired man said absentmindedly. - The way you defended Mrs. Adler was brave.

- We look alike, - I shrugged, biting my lower lip. - Both of us widowed and battered by men.