Sign of the Times (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter One

 About as far back as I can remember, I've always preferred being on my own. Sure, every once in awhile I would come across an old decrepit house to make camp, but they were sometimes, if not always, occupied. Either by homeless folk, or outlaws, it didn't matter. I never made it a point to stick around in one place for very long. I would always steer clear of large towns or cities, but on the rare occasion that I required something not provided by nature, a trip to the local general store was a must. This just happened to be one of those rare occasions. I had run low on gun oil and was in dire need of medicine for my horse, Zephyr (Pronounced Zeh-fur).

He was a young horse of only four years but had recently come down with a case of colic. I had no intentions of moving him until I was sure I could fix the problem. Thanks to a friendly passerby on the road, I was directed to a nearby farming town, called Valentine. I led Zephyr into town and hitched him to one of the posts near a trough where he could drink, before I headed further into town to pick up the items I needed. The shopkeeper was friendly enough, and I was in and out with no time at all. Plus, he wasn't the type to be unnecessarily cheerful towards customers which was welcomed, the standoffish woman that I am. I was pushing the door open to leave when the sudden sound of glass shattering seized my attention. It had come from the saloon just across from me. Some poor fool had been thrown through the window and had landed hard into the muddy street. He groaned outwardly in pain, rolling over to push himself up, but it looked as though the fall had shaken him pretty badly.

"C'mere, asshole!" Another guy shouted, stomping down the steps from the saloon, looking pissed. His face was red, and it looked as though the other guy had landed a few good blows. The man on the ground attempted to stand but was instead grabbed by the lapels of his jacket and lifted up to meet the other man face to face. After a brief pause, the man standing reared his head back, and brought it forward again, crashing their skulls together with a teeth-chattering sound. The man screamed out as he was released, reaching for his nose that was now gushing blood. Miraculously, he had landed on his feet, but was still quite unstable.

"Arthur, c'mon, you can take this guy!" Another man shouted from the mob that had suddenly surrounded the scene. I rolled my eyes, and was about to continue on my way, only to hear the riotous sound of anger swarm within the mob of townsfolk. The man that had gotten his nose busted had apparently landed a massive blow. Massive enough to knock the bigger fellow on his back. Without a moment's hesitation, he was straddling him, and feeding him punch after punch after punch. When it looked as though the man on top was about to land the final blow which would end his life, he stopped with his fist raised in the air. He stared at the man, fury obvious in his eyes, but then, something else. He was... unsure. All at once, he dropped his hand, and stood. He spit some blood of to the side before glancing back down at him.

"Ah... ya 'aint worth it." He said, taking a few steps away. The mob began to disperse as it seemed the fight had come to an end, but the bigger fellow staggered to his feet, and heaved a deep breath before reaching for his holstered gun.

"Why, you-" He spoke as he lifted the gun, and pulled the hammer back, ready to fire.

"ARTHUR!" The male bystander from before shouted. The man walking away turned quickly, his hand on his hip to grab for his gun, but he wasn't fast enough. A single gunshot rang out though the town, bringing a noxious hush with it as it echoed off the old timber buildings.

The larger man's gun lay on the ground, effectively out of commission as he clutched his hand, hissing in pain.

"WHAT THE-"He shouted as I stepped down from the entrance of the general store.

"Bringing a gun to a fistfight... You're either a complete idiot... or a coward." I said, my brow furrowed in annoyance. The large man's face contorted in fury as he took a step towards me, and I wagged a finger, clicking my tongue as I re-holstered my gun.