WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. XIII

After Arthur had left, you'd treated yourself to a bottle of beer from the saloon, then sat on a bench in the Valentine train station. The idleness was much welcome after the last few days' events. Watching the people and trains pass you by in a blur of hasty movements and words did wonders on your mind and soul. Lobo had laid down at your feet, blinking slowly as he bathed the afternoon sun.

Smiling against the rim of your bottle of beer, you traced your fingertips over the edges of the folded dollar bills. Sure, they weren't five thousand. But it was more than nothing. And you could finally get your aunt some more of the Opium she needed for her Lupus.

You watched a train as it passed by the station in Valentine, then took one last swig from the beer bottle before you disposed of it. Getting on your way was a wise idea, though you were in no hurry, seeing as your aunt's humble farm was near Emerald ranch, which was, simply put, a stone's throw away from your current location.

Lobo, having taken notice of the slight shift the moment you'd just considered leaving, immediately jumped up to his feet.

You chuckled at the dog's enthusiasm, wondering, for a moment, where it was all coming from, and silently wishing you could have some for yourself as too. "Well, then, since I've already made you wake up, we might as well leave."

Lobo approved of your words with an energetic wag of his tail.

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You had stopped by the doctor's to get some Opium, then rode off, back home. While on the way, your thoughts drifted back to the peculiar encounter you'd just had.

Arthur, well...something about him just refused to let your mind think of anything else. There surely were an abundance of layers to that man's persona, and while you weren't even sure if you should even dare hoping to meet him again, part of you wished to uncover it all. The mix of openness, warmth and a strange kind of goodness, combined with the secrecy he upheld was, what you supposed, made him alluring. Perhaps it all alluded to some kind of mystery or puzzle even.

Who was he really? Where had he come from? What had he seen?

That journal of his contained at least a good chunk of the answers to your questions, you supposed. But hoping was pointless. Meeting him again in the big, incalculable mess your country was suddenly seemed all the more unlikely. And yet a part of you still wanted to hope.

An enthusiastic bark brought you back, however left you with little to no time to process the fact that Lobo had practically zoomed past you.

A quick glance ahead confirmed why: You were just fifty meters away from your front porch, and Lobo, being the little rascal that he was, had decided it was a good opportunity to start terrorizing the hens quietly wandering about nearby.

"No! Bad boy, leave the chickens alone!" You shouted and gave your horse the spurs to catch up with him. "For Chrissakes! Lobo!"

Chaotic, panicked clucking formed a cacophonous symphony with Lobo's enthusiastic barks.

There was no point in hoping to make it on time, and you had slowly but surely started to come to terms with the fact that you were going to have chicken soup for the next week or so.

That was, until the front door of the humble ranch creaked open, and silence ensued. You didn't have to glance twice to recognize the frame of your aunt, who looked even more worn out than how you'd left her. She whistled once, which, bringing an odd kind of comfort to you, sounded just the way it used to when she had been in perfect health conditions: shrill, loud and stern.