Ghosts of the Past [ RDR2 - Arthur Morgan ]

Chapter 51 - The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Word count - 2466

CHAPTER 51 - The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Laurel kicked the ground with a snort of discontent. The animal was clearly unhappy. Her owner had pushed the poor steed to near exhaustion. Head hanging low, the horse was a sorry sight. Arthur Morgan could offer little more comfort than a gentle pet and an oat cake alongside his low, rumbling words, "I'm sorry, girl."

This wasn't the first time this week, nor would it be the last, that poor Laurel was pushed beyond her limits. But it's better to calm a fussing horse than end up in the hands of the law right now. Arthur, himself, was heaving heavily to catch his breath. Being chased by law for miles through woodlands and marshes did nothing for his aging joints.

But it seemed, at least for now, he had lost them in the trees.

Old boy skidded to a halt beside them, puffing irritably alongside Laurel as his mount, John Marston, slipped off the horse's back. His feet landed heavily on the ground as he threw up his hands in exasperation. "Jesus!" his raspy voice exclaimed. "Well, that was a damn adventure!" Sarcasm laced in every word.

"Tch. No kidding." Arthur grumbled, moving his hat up to run the back of his hand over his forehead. "You'd think they were waiting on us. Law got there too damn quick."

Their eyes met as realization settled between them. Twin sighs left their lips. "Yeah. Don't reckon there's two guessing how they knew."

And together, they spat the name like a curse. "Micah."

Every day, it became clearer how desperately Micah Bell was trying to get rid of the people who didn't trust him. It started small—offering jobs to John, Arthur, and Charles, ones they all refused. But now? It had descended into blatant treason. Leaking robbery plans to the law, hoping they'd take care of his problems for him.

Dutch Van Der Linde, however, still played the blind man. No matter how many times John, Charles, or Arthur returned claiming betrayal, Dutch would just wave them off, muttering, 'Set up? Just bad luck, boys.'

"God damnit." John pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking the ground as though to mimic their discontented horses. "We can't keep doing this! We gotta get outta this damn place."

A fact not lost on Arthur, who wholeheartedly agreed with John's sentiments. "I know." Arthur uttered, "Rose reckons we ain't far from having enough to just disappear. But we still gotta get the others -"

Scrubbing a hand down his growing stubble, John tried to express himself calmly. "I just -" But instead, his words came out in a raised snap. "To hell with the others!" Which caused Arthur's eyes to snap back to him in a mix of intrigue and concern. "They aren't already planning their own escape - they're blind fools who ain't wanting to see how screwed up this all is."

Arthur didn't answer right away. Instead, he ran a hand down Laurel's neck, letting the silence settle between them. Finally, he spoke. "Mary Beth? Tilly?"

John shifted on the spot, huffing. "Ah—Dammit." He dragged a hand through his hair. Frustration emanated from the man in waves. His disregard for the rest of the gang came down to one simple thing. He knew where his real loyalties lay. "Abigail? Jack? Rose?" His jaw clenched. "They're the ones who matter most to us. That's who I'm putting first."

The older man nodded in understanding, "Then you take your woman and your child, and go."

John bit the inside of his cheek, shifting his weight like he was standing on uncertain ground. He glanced away, jaw tight. When it came to John's loyalties; Abigail, and Jack topped his list. But Arthur Morgan wasn't far behind. Where Arthur went - john was sure to follow. The scarred man was no idiot either. He knew Arthur wouldn't move without one other person. "Rose ain't willing to go till the others get out. Is she?"