Ghosts of the Past [ RDR2 - Arthur Morgan ]

Chapter 18 - We Travelled West Once

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Word count - 2567

Dusty red roads quickly made way for the more calming, rolling green hills of the heartlands. A stretch of country so pretty, that it did have Rosemary questioning her disbelief in higher powers. After all, the views often looked painted. The distant loom of snow capped mountains served to break up the soft green ground from the bright, cloudless blue sky.

The trip would take a day, Arthur had informed her, yet Rosemary questioned the pacing of this journey, when Arthur seemed content with a leisurely trot and frequent breaks. On excuse of allowing Laurel a moment to drink - yet the horse rarely dipped its head to the water. It became increasingly obvious that Arthur had rather been enjoying their gentle talks and was keen to extend their reaquaintening as long as possible.

When conversation eased, Rosemary's focus returned to their proximity. The feel of his oddly thin waist under her palms, or his gentle breathing to be seen through the mass of muscular back. This position had a kindly feeling of familiarity to her. As though she was simply meant to ride on the flank of Arthur's horse.

The sky made bursts of indigo and scarlets as the sun lazily dipped behind the distant mountains, giving that painted look all the more prevalence in that moment. Arthur's gaze lifted to squint into the setting sun for a moment "We ain't far now." He advised "This is Caliban's Seat just up ahead. Make for quite the camping spot."

In reply, Rosemary gently hummed. "If you say so."

"I do." Arthur stated, steering Laurel gently towards the slopes that lead up to Caliban's Seat. "Well - we ain't far from Valentine neither." He added "If you'd rather a bed in the Saint's Hotel."

There was this odd confusing thought in her mind. That Rosemary would much rather be out in the wild with Arthur, than laying in bed, separated by two doors and a hallway. "No." She replied after a moment's consideration "I'd like to see these views you're praising."

"As you wish." Arthur pulled the reins gently, leading his mare up the slope until they reached the top.

He was quite right. The view was rather spectacular. Vibrant green grass peppered the landscape all the way to the distant outlines of the Valentine buildings, and to one side of the overlook was the odd vertical rock formations that rose from their hillside like beacons to passing travellers.

Having only passed through this area a handful of times, Rosemary never truly got to appreciate the views that could greet her. It created a sense of belonging that only travellers - only those who have nowhere to belong - could truly appreciate. As Arthur pulled the horse to a shortstop, Rosemary slipped down and off of the flank, eyes glancing around the views as she spoke "Well, you weren't wrong. This is some real pretty country."

"Ain't you lived here for years now, Rose?" Arthur asked as he began pulling the canvas of a small tent from his horse's saddle. He seemed to pause for a moment with the canvas in his hand, thinking quietly, but shook what ever thought was in his mind away "I figured you'd have seen a lot more of it than me by now."

Humming in response, Rosemary set about starting a fire, gathering some dry wood from nearby, and kneeling down to begin the work of setting it alight. "I lived near Strawberry. Only times I ever traveled out this way was once to purchase a shotgun from the gunsmith, and once to see about a job with the doctor."

Now pinning the tent up, Arthur chuckled mostly to himself. A laugh that drew Rosemary's attention, questionable. "Sorry." He muttered, shaking his head and struggling to wipe the smirk from his lips "Just - you and a shotgun don't really seem to go together. When I got to yer camp and you were holding it to my face, I have to say I never saw a stranger sight."