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

Chapter Eleven

"We're almost there, sweetheart," said Arthur in attempt to comfort (Y/n). They had been rushing on horseback for two minutes in silence.

"Ugh, is...is that the place?" She asked. They were heading into a cleaning near the shoreline. There were tents and people roaming around, men and women. The camp looked comfortable enough.

Arthur rubbed her shoulder, "Yeah, this is it."

A native-dressed man wielding a rifle stood at the entrance. "Arthur? What- who is she?" He looked skeptical and raised his gun.

"Don't! Just, hold it," Arthur waved his hand, "She's okay, well, not physically. She needs medical attention." He quickly hitched the horse and jumped down, catching (Y/n) as she nearly fell off the saddle. "I got you," he said. After carrying her into the camp, a crowd began to form, and a flood of questions followed.

Who is she?

Why is she here?

You know her? How long?

What happened?

(Y/n) was not sure of what exactly was happening around her. She knew people were walking over and decided to cover up more of her bare torso. Although, severely wounded, she felt embarrassed. She knew she needed aid, but the attention from strangers she knew nothing of, it was scary. (Y/n) felt vulnerable and hoped that Arthur was truly right, claiming that they are good people.

"Who's the harlot?" Asked a man wearing a white hat. (Y/n) was unable to clearly grasp everyone's faces; her vision grew hazy.

"Micah! Shut up!" Exclaimed Arthur, "This is (Y/n), she got scratched up. Bad. Mrs. Grimshaw, Tilly, y'all make room in the tent!" He pushed the small crowd out of the way to place (Y/n) on a sleeping cot.

Dutch marched over to Arthur, placing a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to face him. "What in the world do you think you're doing?" Dutch asked, rather angrily. He wanted to keep their hide out as discrete as possible. Letting in a new, abrupt 'member' in was not part of any plan of his. Especially a woman.

He was fine with the current women in the gang, but mostly cared for them only if they complied to his schemes. Dutch had admitted before that the women's purpose was to help fit in while traveling to appear as 'pilgrims' or 'nice folk'. At this point, adding another woman was like adding an extra mouth to feed and more dead weight.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Here we go."

"Oh? You think this is funny? You just let in an outsider!" Said Dutch. The two men walked away from the commotion and to the campfire.

"She was hurt! A pack of wolves attacked her out of nowhere!" Arthur said in defense. He never knew how cold Dutch could sound.

The older man rubbed his face, then turned back, "who is she?"

"(Y/n) Johnson," he lied.

Dutch sighed raised his hands and then dropped them to his sides, "No, who is she to you? There has to be a Goddamn explanation as to why you brought in some woman into this camp."

"She needed help!"

The leader of the gang pointed his finger, "I know you are the helping kind, Arthur, but you have never brought in some random nobody into our group before."

Arthur was at a loss. It was true. He has been known to lend a hand to strangers he had come across. However, not in any of the situations he has encountered, maybe even worse than (Y/n), has he ever even considered bringing them to their camp, no matter how close it was. (Y/n) was a special case, though. The cause for the exception being he actually cared for her.

In some sense, in the back of his mind, Arthur had subconsciously known (Y/n) would eventually be in the camp. It was a feeling he tried to ignore. He just never had imagined she would be entering into the hideout due to a wolf attack. He wished things would have gone better. Even the gang's reaction was turning out to be bitter.

In almost a split second, Mary-Beth interrupted. "Oh, Arthur, she's alright. She's gonna be okay, come," she said. She grabbed his arm and pulled him away towards the tent. Dutch simply clenched his fist and went away to his tent.

Tilly was applying a damp washcloth to (Y/n)'s head. "She's doin' fine. Mrs. Grimshaw stitched up the wound. We're trying to keep her from catching a fever in the meantime, but she should be alright."

Arthur closed his eyes in relief, "Thank you, all of y'all." He could not help but smile as he walked over to (Y/n). She was resting, looking like she was at peace. He gently stroked her head, thinking about what was to come after she had woken up.

He had hoped they would be able to talk in private before (Y/n) could be interrogated by Dutch or by any of the others. Arthur had lied earlier to Dutch about her name. He decided to hide (Y/n)'s true identity, a member of a rich, aristocratic family from England. If Dutch knew, there's no telling what he would do to take that wealth. Especially if he had found out that (Y/n)'s parents were deceased, leaving her to claim the inherited fortune if she came out of hiding.

"You should probably let her get some rest, " said Tilly.

Arthur got up, "Yeah, I'll be on my way and back in a bit." He had an idea while (Y/n) was resting. His plan also required him to leave the camp, which was exactly what he needed to do anyway. Arthur went back on his horse and rode off far in great haste.

He knew exactly what he wanted to get and where to get it. Off North-East of the land were a variety of flowers. Arthur had figured a thoughtfully picked bouquet would put a smile on (Y/n)'s face. She had gone through so much already; he feared her happiness would be lacking.

"If my memory serves me right," Arthur spoke aloud, "this is the place that sells 'em." He walked into the store and was greeted by the man behind the counter.

"Hello there, Sir! What brings you here?" He asked. The man was a small, older man with messy, grey hair. He eagerly awaited to hear the special occasion to visit his flower shop.

Arthur scratched his chin, "Uhh, well, I was looking for some flowers. Ones that a woman might like-"

The flower shop owner beamed, "Oh! Your wife? Or maybe Fiancée?"

Arthur scoffed, "No, not neither one of those-"

"Are you going to pop the question? Perhaps that's the occasion!"

"What? No, she-"

"Then what could it possibly be?" The man curiously asked.

" It's for a lady I met, taught how to hunt, ended up fallin' for, and now she's recoverin' from a wolf attack, so I'm tryin' to get her something real nice."

The old man was gob smacked. "Well," he said, "I suppose you hear something new every day. I mean, that's certainly a new occasion I've never heard." He walked over to the wall, picked two-dozen pink carnations and handed them to Arthur.

The man cleared his throat, "since you've seemed to be quite in a pickle- I'll strike you a deal. I sell you two-dozen for the price of one-dozen."

"Uhh, sure, Mister. That's real kind of you." Said Arthur as he paid, "are you sure these flowers are what ladies like?"

"Definitely. You said you love her?" Questioned the owner.

Arthur sighed, "I believe I'm beginning to."

"Then pink carnations are perfect for this unique occasion," he gestured away, "now run back along to that poor woman of yours!"