Ghosts of the Past [ RDR2 - Arthur Morgan ]

Epilogue I

WORDCOUNT - 2065

EPILOGUE I

He had dreamed once of a two story house. A room just for her books. Stables to house the horses he'd raise from foals. A ranch land to home their flock of cattle. A dog or two to herd the sheep. Perhaps in Calendar, or at least somewhere warm.

That was a pretty dream.

Rosemary Morgan never once complained of their small cabin in the wide forested hill tops of Montana. Their ninth home they had settled in. She instead chose to delight in the few luxuries they did have. A large stove stood firmly in the centre of a small kitchen. And on the opposite wall, a stone built fireplace was currently cracking warmly. Two rocking chairs faced the window, one swung lazily, and recently vacated. A large double bed took up a considerable amount of space, pressed in against a wall.

She was getting older now. Arthur Morgan wasn't a man of many words, but he rather enjoyed the sight of the crows feet etching into the sides of her eyes. As much as he himself felt lucky to see his own beard speckled with gray.

It was a hell of a thing to grow old together with a woman you loved.

Rosemary stood by the sink, washing up dishes as a hot dinner went cold on the table. He could see her through the small window as he slowly trudged up the winding path. Restless was too old a horse now to carry him any longer. And affording a new one was out of the question.

Tempted as he was to slip into easier habits and simply rob one from a passing misfortune, he remained steadfast and honest.

In these past 7 years, he and Rosemary had to move many times. Especially at the beginning, due to the law catching up with him. But it seemed seven years was enough time for even 5000 dollars seemed to become obsolete.

The door creaked a little as he pushed it open. Another thing to fix, no doubt. But watching Rosemary whirl around and greet his late arrival with a gentle smile, pushing the concerns of hard work aside. "Hey, you're late." It was more of a statement than a scolding

"Sorry, darlin'" he sighed a little, scrubbing a hand down his tired face. "Foreman weren't letting none of us go till someone admitted to stealing an axe." His explanation was accompanied by a lazy wave of the hand as he accepted a kiss on the cheek and slumped into a dining table chair.

"I'll heat this up for ya." She said, scooping the plate back up. "Surprised you didn't just walk out anyway."

Arthur huffed in amusement. "Yeah, but an angry foreman with an axe? Seemed too easy a target. Figured I'd stick to job security." He pulled his gun belt from around him, adorned with only one simple. Ancient volcanic pistol. If that gun could talk. "I... overheard a few folk talking." He added tentatively. "We... ain't far from Black water, ya know."

Rosemary tensed up slightly in the act of putting his stew back into the pot. "Yeah... I know that."

"'Bout a day's ride south a' here. Guys at the lumber yard were talking about some... dried up ranch land that's been on sale for years. Finally sold." He continued, "Called the buyer 'a fool with no brain' for buying land that has no use for making money."

Rosemary turned her head to look at him. Unsure why he was saying all this. Those bright green eyes looked

"Jim Milton." He continued. "One of 'em was down in the Blackwater bank when he bought it."

"What's... your point?" Rosemary asked, turning fully now.

Arthur paused for a moment. "Said he had two big scars and didn't look like a rancher to him." He finally answered. "Figure... I knew a man with half a brain and two big scars."