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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Hey guys! Just a bit of a warning before you jump into this chapter. It contains some pretty graphic descriptions of a corpse in the middle of decomposition, so if you lost someone recently or think this might trigger you in some way, there is absolutely no shame in sitting this one out. Have a lovely day!
~Alex
Jenny was so tired she found herself nodding off in her saddle. She'd been tired before, but at the moment, when she hadn't slept for at least two days, she was so tired she might even have been able to fall asleep while lying in broken glass.
From the moment Abigail had come riding into camp on a stolen horse like a bat out of hell, Jenny's world seemed to have been turned upside down. John had been captured, Arthur and the others were missing, and Hosea and Lenny were dead.
They'd packed in a fury. Sadie and Jenny stood guard while the girls, Uncle, Pearson, Swanson, and Strauss packed the camp to run for it. They hadn't a clue where to go, but with all the gang's strong men and decent guns either dead or missing, they knew they had to move quickly before all hell broke loose and the rest of them were shot or imprisoned themselves. The silver lining, she supposed, was that Micah was missing, too.
Sadie decided to call the shots, and no one saw fit to question her. Even Susan Grimshaw, the indisputable matriarch of the gang, took her orders as though she were Dutch himself. Jenny didn't complain; she'd rather follow Sadie Adler than Dutch Van Der Linde any day, and as the best gun in camp now that the men were gone, she was Sadie's right hand woman, in a way. They leaned on each other for support, and in Jenny's opinion, they made a pretty damn good team.
Jenny was thankful for all the chaos and hard work. It kept her from having to worry about Arthur. She just couldn't shake the feeling that he was dead somewhere, buried at sea or deep within the swamp. Maybe he'd been shot in the gut like Davey had, and he was still alive, but on the verge of an inevitable death anyway. The thought of him in pain or alone, without anyone to comfort him, was a waking nightmare Jenny could thankfully keep herself from worrying about in between all the things going on.
She also worried about John. He was kind to her, and Abigail was distraught at the knowledge that he was in prison. Jenny hated seeing Abigail this upset, and she volunteered to watch Jack for a few hours at a time while Abigail broke down or needed a rest. If John was hung or shot or died some other way, she did not know what might become of his family. Under his rough exterior and in spite of his flaws, she truly believed John Marston was a good man, certainly much better than her. He did not deserve to die anymore than Arthur did.
On top of the worry, there was a layer of grief as well. Lenny and Hosea were dead, after all. She'd been fond enough of Hosea, but she'd never been close to him the way she had Lenny. Lenny, who'd been in love with her, but was never pushy about it. Lenny, who had swapped numerous guard shifts with her so she didn't have to take it at night or during rain storms. Lenny, who never lacked a smile and had been nothing but kind to her. She wished she'd been a better friend to him, but alas she'd never get the chance again.
