WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. XII

The morning had gone by before you knew it. You and Arthur had used the momentarily kind weather conditions to your advantage and packed up, then made your way back towards Valentine.

You had unbuttoned your jacket since your surroundings were becoming increasingly warmer, still letting it hang loosely over your shoulders as you trailed behind Arthur. The muddy ground presented a bit of a nuisance for you and the horses, but a great joy for Lobo, who was covered in dirt up to his snout and circled around you and Arthur, barking and yowling with playful joy.

"Shouldn't be much longer 'till Valentine. Might even get there b'fore noon." Arthur commented with a fleeting glance over his shoulder.

"Hope so." You answered, spurring on your horse just enough to catch up with the Arabian, which was tied to Arthur's steed. You reached out to pet its mane, but refrained when you noticed it had become uneasy from the proximity with your steed. "How much do you think we'll get for it? A few hundred maybe?" You asked with a nod at the white mare.

"I thought you was the, uh...how'd you call it? Horse expert, was it?" Arthur laughed through his nose.

"Doesn't mean I can't ask for second opinions." You shot back and propped one hand on your hip.

He smirked at your mannerisms but obliged to the question with a thoughtful frown. "In that case...yeah. About a few hunfred, I reckon. But since we ain't got no papers for it...well, I ain't so sure."

You nodded absentmindedly and examined the white Arabian with a critical, careful gaze, as if you'd somehow be enlightened with a price if you stared at it long enough. That, however, was not the case, since your mind had instead conjured up the mental image of Arthur's drawing.

"Did you think of any names for it?" You asked, which, judging by the sudden (though barely visible) tension in his shoulders, had caught him off-guard.

"It's a 'she'." Arthur corrected, then slowed down his steed by a fraction. "But no. There ain't much use in namin' if we're sellin' her. Why?"

"No reason." You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to seem unbothered by his focused gaze, as if he could see right through you. "Just...wondering."

A grunt and a nod were the only answer you had received. To your dismay, the rest of the ride to Valentine was silent, though you couldn't pinpoint why exactly the verbal idleness had irked you so much.

After you and Arthur had hitched up your steeds on a post near the stable, he had taken the white Arabian by the reins. You, on the other hand, feeling as if you were somehow...intruding, had begun looking through the saddlebags for a brush.

"You comin' or not?" He called, and you looked up in slight surprise, but didn't comment, and instead complied.

Mud splattered over your boots as you jogged to catch up with Arthur, then entered the stable alongside with him. The Arabian neighed, which you guessed was because of the constricting feeling the stable had to it. Almost by reflex, you gave its — her — neck a reassuring pat. The gesture was observed with a soft smile from Arthur, which he luckily managed to hide before you could take notice of it.

"Mornin', mister. Miss." The stablehand trotted in and greeted with a nod at Arthur, then you. "Quite the fine horse you got there."

"Why, thank you. We're actually looking to sell." You chimed in with a smile that you were hoping would win him over. "If you'd be interested in owning, exactly like you stated, such a fine horse."

"You got papers?"

"Surely its perfect condition should be proof enough of its quality. If you're still reluctant, my—" You glanced at Arthur, unsure of what exactly he was. Acquaintance? Savior? Helper? A sales partner of sorts?  "My friend here would be more than happy to show you."