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

CHAPTER 47 - Enough of this

Soooo, I wanted to put a reference to Dutch and Mollys fighting in this chapter and thought I remembered Molly saying something along the lines of „you barely touched me in weeks" in one of their arguments, but after literally half an hour of research, I found only one meme on Instagram referencing the quote. Does anyone know if she actually said that? I dont know if I just imagined it and I really don't know where else it could be from.

Anyway, this is a way to lighthearted beginning for this chapter of pure depression, but this is stuck in my head now. Please help :,)

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The next few weeks were unpleasant. Apparently, Dutch had gotten himself and a few other gang members, Arthur included, jobs with the local law enforcement. And I wasn't one of them. That meant that our routine of handling our jobs together came to a harsh end, as Dutch noted that „having a woman tag along wouldn't fit the old fashioned standards of the sheriff". And so I stayed back, watched them leave every morning and felt more frustration build up with each passing day.

Of course I found things to do, mostly camp chores like feeding the horses, hunting, chopping wood. It was bearable for the first week or so, then I started to loose my mind. The days seemed to stretch on forever though, and without the daily missions tiring me out, the nights quickly turned into a nightmare-riddled chaos, in which I often found myself suffocating between the walls of my tent.

Arthur and I barely talked, and that was the thing that bothered me the most. In the morning, he was busy tacking up Gin, yelling commands to the others and trying to eat a little to strengthen himself for the busy day. I had given up on trying to speak to him then.

When the group returned in the evening, he took a bowl of stew, ate it while sitting on his bed and went to sleep straight away. That cycle repeated itself for three or four weeks. I was miserable.

It was Kieran Duffy of all people who brought change. He had been creeping around in the camp ever since he had been released, tending to the horses and hiding in his tent. No one seemed to really like him, still. I almost felt bad for him.

The group of men had returned earlier than usual and I was on my way to Arthur, hoping to get a grasp of him before he disappeared again when Kieran stopped me. „Hey. What are you up to?"

I narrowed my eyes, suspicious of his motives. „Nothing."

„Great. You wanna come fishin'?" He smiled.

„Why?"

„It's pretty boring goin' alone. And I think you're one of the only people that would at least consider it.", he explained while he fiddled with his fishing rod.

„Well..." My gaze wandered to Arthurs cot for a moment, then I snapped back to him. There it was again, the pity for the man in front of me. I sighed. „Alright. I'm comin'."

A cheerful grin snuck onto Kieran's lips. „Great. Let's go then."

A heavy hand on my shoulder stopped me. I knew who it was, even without turning around. His smell, his hands, his steps, his presence. He confirmed it with the gravely sound of his voice when he asked: „Where are you goin'?"

I turned around to face Arthur while I cursed myself for agreeing to come with Kieran and loosing the chance to spend time with my friend instead. „Fishin'. I'll die of boredom if I stay one minute longer in this camp." An idea flashed through my head. „You wanna come along?", I asked.

He studied my face for a moment, looked over at the other man. „I'm not a great fisherman." Neither was I, but I shrugged it off.

„But I am.", Kieran chimes in. „I'll teach you somethin'."