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

CHAPTER 43 - The last straw

„My name is Leviticus Cornwall!"

The words rang in my ears like gunshots. My eyes searched for Arthurs, but they were fixed on the elderly man outside. Cornwall looked to fragile and old to threaten us, a group of rugged outlaws that weren't afraid to fight dirty if needed. And still he seemed - he was - much more powerful than us.

„(Y/n).", Dutch hissed.

I turned around, fingers tightly clenched around my revolvers grip. „Yeah?"

„Get out there and make sure Strauss and John are out of trouble.", he ordered in a hushed voice while he slowly stood up.

So I pushed the back door open, ready to leave, but Cat stopped me. She tried to follow me and I had to block her way and force her back inside. I couldn't put her in this danger. Once she was safely contained, I snuck out, my head lowered, and peaked around the corner of the small pub. What I saw made clear that it was to late for any rescue attempt: The two outlaws were dragged towards Cornwall by two broad shouldered men in uniforms. Each one had wrapped an arm around their captives throat while the other hand wielded a pistol.

I could only imagine what Dutch and Arthur were thinking and doing inside when John and Strauss were pushed down on their knees. I hoped for some heroic escape plan that would safe the two men and pondered if I should go back inside to help. The guards took aim, while Cornwall kept yelling. Then, with a little creaking noise, the door of the saloon swung open. But instead of some dramatic rescue attempt, the two men stepped outside, their hands held high above their heads in surrender.

Dutch opened his mouth and stopped walking, trying to talk his way out of this mess, as always. But before he could, a gun went off. The bullet burrowed itself in the wooden planks, right in front of his left boot. A dozen of weapons were aimed at the mens faces. In the quick glance they exchanged I could see that this didn't go according to their plan.

They were escorted down to the other two gang members. Meanwhile, Cornwall and most of his men left, probably not wanting to be associated with the ugly scene that would unfold soon enough. Only five men remained.

The two outlaws were disarmed and forced onto their knees. Arthur kneeled closest to me, his darkened eyes scanned the empty road desperately, hoping for help from above of some sorts. I hoped that our eyes would meet as I peaked from behind the corner, but they didn't, as his head was forced down.

„Keep the leader, shoot the rest...", one of the men ordered, his voice was carried over to me by the wind. I watched how Dutch was pushed away from the rest and how his hands were tied behind his back.

I pulled my gun at the same time one of the guards pointed his revolver at the back of Johns head. I gritted my teeth. I hadn't dragged him trough the mountains to watch him get killed for nothing.

The decision to start this shooting was made in less than a second, for Johns sake. The man holding him at gunpoint dropped with a bloody hole in the side of his head. My eyes remained fixed on the body while my body moved to fire the next shot. It seemed as if the time was moving slower, thick and sticky like honey. It took a painfully long moment for my companions to realize what was happening.

Then finally, John jumped up and grabbed his revolver. He shot one man standing only a meter away in the head. Arthur whipped around, his fist collided with the face of the man holding him down. The outlaw brought him down with a sneer on his face. Dutch struggled against the rope around his wrists while the man holding him back fumbled for his weapon with a terrified grimace. He died with this expression, forever frozen on his face as I sent a rain of bullets trough his body.

Between the shots, I could hear the men cursing, Dutch yelling: „Shoot someone, Arthur!", Arthur replying: „I'm trying!" and John calling: „Strauss got hit!".

„Damn it.", I muttered under my breath and sprinted over to the small group. With one last shot, John killed the last remaining man.

While I cut the ropes that were tying Dutchs hands together, John kneeled next to Strauss, wrapping a piece of cloth around his wound to stop the bleeding. „What do we do now? They'll come back in no time!"

„Now...." Dutch's voice rose to a strong, confident order. Just what was needed to get a bunch of cornered, nervous outlaws moving. „Arthur and (Y/n) move up to the front to keep us clear of Cornwalls men. John, help me get Strauss on the wagon, then we push it." He gestured to a small, unused cart next to the gunsmiths store.

While the two men laid the injured gang member onto the wagon, I sprinted over to the saloon to free Cat. She was already waiting at the door, nervous pacing up and down. I picked her up quickly. Over at the cart, I placer her in Strauss lap. „Hold onto her, don't let her go.", I ordered. He just nodded, his faces was as pale as paper.

I reloaded my revolvers and glanced at Arthur, determined to get all of us out here alive. He replied with a grim nod and took the place at the head of our little procession, right behind the corner of the wagon. I followed closely and placed myself by his side.

We kept moving steadily and way to slow for my liking. Strauss in the back whimpered in pain, John cussed at him, telling him to shut up. But nothing happened, the Main Street was completely empty. Arthur and I moved up, so that we were walking in front of the cart.

Arthur was the first one that noticed the trap, I wasn't sure how. He pushed me to the side behind the wagon, so that I stumbled and fell into the mud. His body crashed onto mine, pressing me into the ground. It hurt, he was to heavy and I couldn't breath. A rain of bullets went down on the spot that we had been standing in only seconds ago.

Through the beating of my heart, I couldn't hear Dutchs orders, only the sound of his voice. The weight of Arthurs body rolled off me and I gasped for air. Then I pushed myself up, held onto the wagon for support. I had to fight, I couldn't let the sudden weakness overcome me. I leaned out of the cover, still breathing heavily, and fired multiple shots, hoping that one would hit.

„Our horses are up ahead, finish them men!", Dutch yelled from somewhere behind me.

The battle was a mess of gunshots, cries, screams and I kept shooting until no one fired back. Arthur rested a calming hand on my shoulder and pulled me back behind the cart. There was no time for comforting words. Both our hearts were still racing with adrenaline. Then his fingers left, he moved away from me. „Let's get outta here."

Arthur carried Strauss, Cat ran by my side as we sprinted across the open street, praying that no one was left to shoot us. I was aware of each breath, each footstep. We reached the horses, Arthur trew Strauss onto the back of Dutch's horse, we mounted.

Yells emitted from behind us, a new group of men had gathered in the streets. „Get the hell outta here!", I cursed and pressed my legs against Smiths belly. The already agitated stallion jumped forward and took off, followed by Arthur and Cat. We left Valentine with gunshots echoing behind us.

{-}-{-}-{-}-{-}-{-}-{-}-{-}-{-}

I will be making a little change in my updating schedule, new chapters will be posted each sunday instead of friday. It's just a little to stressful for me to keep up with updating each friday.

-1361 words