Ghosts of the Past [ RDR2 - Arthur Morgan ]

Chapter 24 - Healing

WORD COUNT - 2996

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With Arthur comfortably relaxed in the wagon, staring starry-eyed at the ceiling, Rosemary, Swanston and Mr Grimshaw left the cramped space. It was clear to everyone that Rosemary Levenson was not impressed. Her arms tightly folded over her chest and a harsh frown on her face as she leant against the wheel of the wagon and took in the sight of the Reverend as he closed up the morphine box. The Reverend didn't look much happier. It seemed he was finally understanding that his position as the gang's healer had been passed on.

The morphine box snapped shut with a notable click "What?" Reverend asked, not looking at Rosemary. He didn't have to to feel the burn of her eyes on him,

Now given the go ahead to snap at him - after all, Swanston did ask - Rosemary spoke her mind harshly. Which seemed to be her regular way of speaking as of recently. "Great. Fantastic, Reverend Swanston. He's high as a damn kite."

Swanston rolled his eyes, waving his hand at Rosemary dismissively. "He asked." He repeated his earlier argument. Almost uncaringly, picking up a bottle of whiskey from one of the apothecary drawers he'd spotted earlier.

"Enough of the arguing, both of you." Mrs Grimshaw said sternly "It's not helpful." Just as the reverend went to take a swig of the amber liquid, the bottle smoothly plucked from his grip as Susan passed by. "Shake hands. We can't have you two bickering your way to Arthur's health."

Rosemary dropped her head, leaning on the table, eyes screwed shut as she tried to find her patience "Fine." She spoke quietly, standing straight and offering a hand to Swanston "You're right, he probably needed some pain relief."

Swanston hesitated. Clearly torn between continuing being defensive, and giving it all up all together, but took Rosemary's hand "No more." He agreed, "He'll have to fight it himself from here."

"At last." Grimshaw grumbled "So. What happens next? For Mr Morgan."

"A course of the Tincture should break the fever." Swanson explained to Mrs Grimshaw, reaching for the bottle of whiskey, which again was moved from her grip in a smooth motion, and taken from Grimshaw's hands by Rosemary who put it back in the drawer. Swanston sighed in mild complaint but didn't argue "Really it's just a waiting game now."

Grimshaw nodded, "Someone should sit with him."

"Just leave me to it. Thank you very much for your help, both of you." Rosemary said "But I have him, from here."

Grimshaw and Swanston both nodded, bidding Rosemary a goodbye. Climbing back up into the wagon, Rosemary lit a lantern and shut the doors behind her. Sealing herself inside the room with the now sleeping Arthur.

Taking a moment to plump the pillow behind Arthur's head, mostly just feeling a need to fuss over him, Rosemary took a seat on the singular wooden chair, opened one of the drawers and withdrew a book to entertain herself with. Her hand not holding the book open, laid on Arthur's forearm, as a minimal contact. A hope that maybe in his sleep he would register she was there for him.

And that was where Rosemary remained, as the hours ticked on and the book slowly slid from her grasp, her eyes succumbing to exhaustion. Until she felt him shift. Just slightly at first, then his movements proceeded with a low groan of pain.

Rosemary jolted awake, her breath catching as she slipped off the chair to kneel beside the cot. "Hey, hey, calm down," she murmured, her voice soothing as she pressed the back of her hand to Arthur's forehead. His fever still lingered, but at least he was awake.