Bad Beginnings (A RDR2 Fanfic)

Act Like a Boy

The bright sun caused Arthur's eyes to ache when he finally woke up. He stretched, cracking his back, then crawled out of his tent into the sweltering heat.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Hosea greeted him, flipping to the next page in his book. "Have a good sleep? It's almost noon."

Arthur couldn't help but sigh. "Hi, Mr. Matthews. I didn't realize I slept that long..."

"It's okay, my boy," Hosea replied, with a small smile. "Dutch wanted to meet you at the saloon around 2."

"Thank you!" Arthur called behind him, already walking to Beatrice, pulling on his boots and satchel as he went.

Arthur wasn't in too much of a rush, so on his way there, he took Dutch's gun out of his gun holster, and switched it out for the new one, after admiring it and loading it.

Once he got everything together, he rode with more purpose, hoping to get there on time. He got to the saloon right at two.

"Arthur!" he heard Dutch yell. He finally spotted the man at their usual table in the corner.

"How's it going, son?" Dutch inquired, before taking a sip of his liquor.

"Good," Arthur replied. "I have your gun. I figured you'd like it back."

"Thank you, Arthur," Dutch said, as Arthur produced the weapon from his satchel, and slid it over to Dutch.

"What are our plans for today?" the younger asked after a moment. "I don't imagine you called me over here for no reason, sir."

"Yes," Dutch replied, sliding his gun back into its holster. "I almost forgot. I heard about a job, a little ways east, that I thought you might be interested in."

"Go on."

"It's a house. Real mysterious... Might be a large stack of money involved," Dutch elaborated, voice dropping.

"Well, Mr. Van der Linde, I can't say no when there's money involved," Arthur replied, with a small laugh.

"Great!" Dutch replied. "We'll head out tomorrow, then."

Before another word could be spoken, a skirmish broke out at the next table over. Apparently a man had lost a game of poker and was more or less... pissed.

Arthur wouldn't remember much of what happened. All he knew was that Dutch stood as the punches were being thrown, so Arthur followed.

Arthur soon lost sight of the other. The crowd filing into the bar pushed him about. This was the first bit of action that the town had gotten for a while. Arthur could hear Dutch yelling for him, but it was lost among the sound of people yelling.

People soon started turning and beating each other just for the fun of it. When a man approached Arthur, Arthur decided that he wouldn't run.

Arthur didn't suck that much, saying that he'd gotten caught in a few scuffles when he was younger. The man was drunk, helping Arthur out.

Soon enough, they were one of the last left. Arthur was quick and agile, but the other was bigger and stronger. Arthur caught the man with a hit to the stomach, making him double over. However, Arthur wasn't prepared for the hit in the nose. Nothing broke, but it hurt like hell, naturally making Arthur's eyes water a bit.

Arthur rolled behind the looming man, who turned, but not quickly enough, because Arthur caught him with a foot to the back of the knees. The man fell to his knees, allowing Arthur to hit a quick knee into the other's nose.

The man growled, grabbing Arthur by the boots, and hauling the boy to the wooden floor. The breath was knocked out of Arthur's chest as he quickly scrambled back to his feet.

The man had drawn his knife, the cheating bastard. Before Arthur could raise his arms, the tip of the blade caught him in the chin.

Arthur held his sleeve to his bleeding wound, as he ducked out of the way of the knife, the blade barely missing him with each swing and jab. This was getting tiring.

Before Arthur could get butchered like a dead hog, someone grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the circle of people.

"You're in big trouble," he heard a familiar voice growl angrily. Dutch.

"Mr. Van der Linde!" Arthur cried, when they got over to The Count and Beatrice. "I can explain!"

"I don't care!" Dutch exclaimed, pushing Arthur to Beatrice. "Get on. We're going home."

The ride back to camp was in silence. Arthur had never been this afraid since he was young.

When they got there, Hosea wasn't around. Dutch walked over to Arthur's horse and hauled the younger off of it by his shirt.

Dutch then pulled Arthur to his feet. "If you want to act like a boy, then you must want to be beat like one," Dutch growled, then, without any other warning, slapped Arthur hard across the face.

Arthur fell onto the rocky ground. Arthur's vision swam as he saw Dutch looming over him. Arthur thought it was long enough ago, but apparently not. Arthur's lungs couldn't seem to take in enough air as his throat closed.

Arthur was drowning. Drowning in the middle of a dry desert. The edges of his vision darkened as he saw Dutch walk away. Arthur wish he could scream, but he simply passed out in the dirt.