WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. XVIII

You never thought forgetting to do something as vital as breathing could potentially be an occurrence in normal circumstances, but there you were. Out of breath, staring at the three silhouettes riding off towards the Heartlands.

The fact that money wasn't the first thing that came to mind when you mechanically mounted your horse and begun trailing after them bothered you, maybe even caused something similar to happiness with a hint of self-criticism to well up in your chest. How peculiar.

Arthur Morgan was a sight you hadn't hoped to ever lay your eyes on again. Yet, at the same time, you had desperately wanted to.

So without giving it a second thought, you gave your horse the spurs, following the three horse tracks the riders — and Arthur — had left behind.

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Lobo had also realized right away that keeping quiet was something you required from him, and had mirrored the reluctant, faltering manner of your every move as you stopped in the cover provided by a forest to watch the three men ride up a hill. You made quick work of retrieving your binoculars and analyzing all three of them: there was Arthur, obviously, another blond man with shoulder length-hair, a mustache and a white hat, as well as a man with a face one could never forget, simply because of the sheer amount of bounty posters he'd been illustrated on: Dutch Van Der Linde.

They had a quick exchange — and suddenly, Arthur parted from the group, continuing his way towards the top of the hill while the others rode around the it, towards a valley of some sorts, when you ultimately lost sight of them. Arthur disappeared out of your field of vision not much later as well.

You waited for a few more minutes, at the very least, before saddling up once again. You hesitated for a second — trying to figure out whether you should follow the other two riders or Arthur. You weren't given the chance to ponder any further, your instincts alarming you of another presence nearby. You quickly returned in the cover of the bushes.

Lo and behold: five men, fully armed, sneaking up the hill. After Arthur, you could only guess. Something in your stomach flipped unpleasantly at the mental image of them overwhelming the outlaw, pointing a gun to his head—

You shook your head. Stupid fantasies were not going to help you, nor Arthur. But were you going to help Arthur?

The answer was yes. Admittedly after a few second thoughts, but it was affirmative nonetheless.

You dismounted, taking your rifle with you, and asked Lobo to stay. He did, even going as far as sitting down and looking at you with a solemn, promising look in his dark coffee-colored eyes. That was more on an answer than you could have hoped for.

By their looks, the sneaking men more than certainly promised trouble — every action, whispered word and silent laugh confirmed it time and time again. Their dark clothes, greasy hair, and from what you'd managed to make out from their whispered conversations (which wasn't all that much, aside from the Irish accent), made the assumption that these were O'Driscoll's men anything but far-fetched.

And that was when it clicked: The blood feud between the Van Der Linde gang and the O'Driscoll boys. These men had been sent out to catch Arthur. Kill him, maybe.

Unfortunately, that realization had kicked in far too late.

The five men were sprinting down the hill, one of them forcing the white Arabian to follow. Slung over its back, you realized the animal carried a passed out (and hopefully not dead) Arthur. The entire operation was completed before you could blink: they'd whistled for horses, tied the Arabian to one of them, then made their getaway to the east.

You hesitated. Should you go after them? For an outlaw? Was it all worth the hassle? Shouldn't you just forget about all of this and pick another, easier bounty?

On the other hand, however, cutting off the entire encounter with Arthur Morgan like this...it felt like starting an intriguing book, then losing it, or throwing it out in the mud. Especially given your current situation. You wanted to continue this, whatever it was. Help him. In a way, you felt like you were supposed to.

You owed Arthur saving his life in return. Maybe then you'd be even, and you could finally, hopefully be at peace. Both with him and yourself.

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You had followed the O'Driscolls with utmost subtleness, keeping quite a distance between yourself and the group of people. You had also remarked with some horror that they just kept growing in number as the journey progressed. They hadn't taken notice of you yet, thankfully, but you had gone the long way to make sure of it: you would stop from time to time, wait for ten minutes or so before finding their tracks and following them. Lobo had proved to be especially useful for said task.

The bastards had ridden to Valentine, where they had split up. Lobo had went after the imprints leading away from the settlement, which led you to hope that your gut instinct was, at least for once right. Reason only reaffirmed your dog's decision. What were they going to do with Arthur in Valentine, anyways? Turn him in to the sheriff? The prison there was laughable at best. A well-placed explosion, shootout or charlatanry and his gang could easily break him out of there. No, they weren't taking him to Valentine. There was no good reason to.

So you followed Lobo, to a place north of Caliban's seat and south-west of Valentine, a small plateau of sorts, where you had quickly spotted a campfire in the inky darkness. A mere three silhouettes sat around it (a look through your binoculars only confirmed it), and if you squinted, there was a passed out form in the periphery of the makeshift camp.

At first you thought it to be a sleeping O'Driscoll, but the ingenuous idea of checking the horses — for the Arabian, more precisely—  came to mind, and ultimately confirmed the fact that the body may have very well belonged to Arthur.

If you were going to act, it would have to be now. Under the cover of darkness, when the men had lessened in number, and most importantly, when they would least expect it.