The wild, wild West (Arthur Morgan x f!Reader)

CHAPTER 23 - A good ol' shootin'

I kneeled next to Arthur and Kieran, my fingers wrapped tightly around Arthurs bow. He had said he was bad with it and gave it to me. I wondered if it was actually because of his freshly injured shoulder. Now we were waiting for our enemies. Our prey.

Kieran had summed them up pretty accurately when we got here. „Drunk, armed, wary of strangers." Pretty much the same as us, excluding the drunk part, of course. Although I wasn't to sure if Bill was actually sober.

„Someone's comin'." Bills hushed voice redirected my attention to three men that appeared between the trees. They were oblivious to our presence and the loaded bows and drawn trowing knives in our hands. My eyes narrowed a little when I raised the weapon, my fingers tightened around the string, ready to pull back. Kieran let out a small whimper, not loud enough to disturb the men. John had clasped a hand over his mouth, his pistol pressed against the other mans temple. Smart move.

One of the men left the group and disappeared behind some bushes for a second, then he appeared again on the other side, out of sight of his companions. Now I pulled the string back and tilted the bow slightly downwards. With a tiny snap, the arrow flew of the string silently and pierced the side of the mans head. He tumbled against the tree and fell down. His lifeless body spilled dark red liquid over the loose sticks and leaves on the ground. The lessons with Charles had payed off.

Meanwhile, Arthur and Bill had left our cover and snuck their way up to the remaining two, their knives drawn. They finished them off silently, leaving just two corpses and a pool of blood that no one would notice until it was to late. My fingers were itching for some action, but I was still reluctant, worried about Colm.

Suddenly gunshots broke the treacherous silence. Men screamed, panic and confusion filled the air. I dropped to the ground when a bullet whistled past my head. As soon as the forest clear, I jumped of the ledge and sprinted behind a big tree trunk. Another bullet missed me narrowly. I reached for my Cattleman.

Bill and Arthur were advancing quickly, each bullet they fired hit a body, not necessarily killing their victims, but enough to keep them down for a while. Men with a bullet in their stomach rarely fired another shot. Kieran and John lagged behind, with John keeping an wary eye on the former O'Driscoll.

I leaned out of my cover and fired tree bullets at the same guy. He dropped and I followed the other two with my head lowered. The shooting felt like a haze, a blur of loading, aiming, firing, jumping, running. We advanced into the camp.

Two men left.

One.

Then we were through. In front of us sat the shabby wooden cabin like a dark, lurking creature.

The forest was eerily quiet without the gunshots and the men yelling orders and suddenly I was afraid to step any closer to the cabin. Grimly, I pushed the feeling aside. My fingers tightened around my revolver and I stepped over the fallen tree trunk I had used as cover. Slowly, my companions emerged from behind trees and boulders, their weapons still loaded and ready to shot any survivors. We invaded the empty camp, ready to face Dutchs biggest enemy.

Arthur was the first to reach the cabin with his hand resting on the grip of his revolver. And then everything happened to fast. The crack of wood as the door barged open and slammed against the wall, Arthurs gasp as his back connected with the ground, the angry yell of the man that stumbled out with his gun raised. For a very long second, my body was frozen, unable to defend him or yell for help. I could only watch how the strangers finger tightened around the trigger. Then my body moved again, painfully slow. I pulled the revolver up, tried to aim.

Kieran was faster than me. His bullet pierced the mans abdomen. He dropped the gun and spat some blood on the ground. The look on his face wasn't one of terror, he looked rather surprised. I ended his struggle with a bullet to the head.