//BEARING ARMS//RDR2//ARTHUR x READER

Chapter Seven

As Arthur strode into camp, he received weird stares. It was dark and he had barely returned with no prisoner or blood on his hands and clothes.

"It's 'bout time you showed up!" Said Bill, rifle in hand at the Camp's entrance. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the surrounding area.

Arthur hitched his horse and made his way to the warmth of the campfire. He sat next to Javier, across from them was Uncle, Charles, and Micah. Arthur could not help but smile to himself, the fire's light touching the features of his face, exposing his delight in the evening's earlier events.

"So, uh, what's got you smiling?" Asked Uncle, being his nosey self. However, everyone around the campfire was insistent on hearing the explanation. It seemed usually that there was little to smile about. Yet, here Arthur was, content and happy for some strange reason.

Arthur had not known he was so obvious, "Oh, nothin' I just- I just am happy to be back here around this fire. I was, uh, feelin' a bit tired but this-"

"No, no, don't give us that. What's the real reason?" Asked Javier. It was not only clear to him it was a lie, but to the whole group of people listening as well.

"Well," he paused, "I just-"

"Arthur! Get in here," called Dutch from his tent.

Arthur looked to everyone before getting up, "Well, guess we'll never know, huh?" He walked over to Dutch.

The leader of the group lifted his arms only for them to fall back at his sides. "What happened, son?" He said.

Arthur raised his brows, "I'm guessing you mean after that coach robbery?"

"Yes, of course I'm talking about that!"

"They got away."

"They got away. How? You let them go?"

"What? No, no, nothin' like that. They was fast, I was too far behind, and-"

"And what?"

Arthur hesitated, "I... tripped over a log, blacked out." He was never so embarrassed of a lie. He hated the fact that Dutch, if he even believed him, would go on to think he was a clumsy man, tripping on logs, knocking himself out cold.

Dutch was serious. But then, his stern face softened out into a hardy laugh. "You, Arthur Morgan, tripped on a log and that's it? That's how the bastard got away?" Dutch took a moment to breathe.

Arthur knew he would not let this 'confession' down. "Yeah, I know. Pretty foolish of me, now can we drop it?" He said.

"Sure, son," said Dutch, "but that just means we got to keep an eye out for him. You see that witness, and you make sure they got their facts straight, do what you have to. We are good people." He gave Arthur's shoulder a pat before leaving his tent.

He let out a heavy sigh, "That woman better keep quiet." Arthur walked over to his tent and decided to write in his journal.

***

The gang and I had run into what seemed to be a stage coach robbery. It was the O'Driscolls doing, of course. Luckily, none of us was hurt or killed except for an older couple.

Turns out, those two were the Lavender Lady's parents- the woman I saw at the Valentine Saloon. Poor woman came back and saw the massacre of a mess them O'Driscolls done.

Dutch had me hunt her down, wanted me to do away with whoever saw the scene. I found out it was her, that pretty woman. Her name is (Y/n) Robinson. I couldn't bring myself to hurt her so, instead, I'm teaching her to live on her own, learn how to survive off the land.

I feel as if there is something she's hiding. Then again, I hide much of everything, as well. Why do I insist on helping this stranger? I'm a fool for falling yet again to a woman who will end breaking my broken heart once more.

***

Arthur quickly, but skillfully, sketched (Y/n) on the page. He shut his journal and placed it in his pouch. He wanted to get as much sleep as possible, for Arthur planned to visit (Y/n) again. She needed him and he felt alright with that. He wanted to leave her knowing she was self-sufficient. If not, he would feel like it was her blood on his hands.

8:00 a.m.

Arthur woke up earlier than most of the group to leave for (Y/n). He had gone to sleep wondering if she was okay being alone. He wished she could stay within their camp, but he knew that would cause trouble. There were already 23 members in their gang, and although they are a bunch of misfits, (Y/n) would not be wanted. Dutch was not interested in adding on to the group.

(Y/n) would have a hard time fitting in with the group anyway. She would have become an outcast within the group of outcasts. And she did seem insistent on being alone. That was what had Arthur curious. What could (Y/n) be possibly hiding that left her wanting to remain alone and secluded? Avoiding her prior destination? Surely, she had family or someone else she had known here.

Things were not adding up to Arthur. He took it in small increments: first, make (Y/n) a survivor. Then, after learning more, ask a few questions. Afterwards, leave her be. He convinced himself that he was only curious about (Y/n) was all. No true interest. Just curiosity tugging at his mind.

"Miss Robinson, don't you worry 'bout a thing," said Arthur, already close to the cabin.