WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. XXVII

On the ride to Clemens Point, Dutch had practically bombarded you with questions about anything he could think of: from how you and Arthur met, to how he had ended up in your ranch. You had been so lost in trying to retell everything in as much detail as you could, that you hadn't even noticed you had arrived near an assembly of caravans and tents.

The group was practically brimming with people of all races, genders and ages. Dutch van der Linde seemed to be a man of little to no prejudices, which made him seem...a bit more approachable than before. You followed the three men to a tent in the middle of the camp, where you had been offered a seat at a small wooden table. Lobo had lazily plopped down next to you.

The flaps of (of what you assumed was) Dutch's tent did very little of shielding you from the hot, relentless afternoon sun. To avoid the curious, prying gazes of both men, women, a child, and even another dog, who continued reluctantly approaching Lobo, you focused back on the conversation around you.

"I reckon it could be an underground cell, maybe." Hosea leaned forward in the wooden chair, setting his arms on his thighs as he looked at Dutch first, then at you. "I've broken Arthur out of Saint Denis before, sure, but this isn't the usual anymore. They know who he is now — they're not going to let go of him that easily."

You had followed the conversation carefully, noticing that John had offered up the limited knowledge of the newspaper article by dropping it on the table for all four of you to see. Hosea was trying to make something out of it, while Dutch simply stared at the piece of paper, though you couldn't tell if it was for effect or because he was actually thinking of a way to go about the entire situation. You hoped it was the latter.

"Maybe they wanna use him to lure us into Saint Denis." John chimed in. "Just like the O'Driscolls did."

"We will take only a few men, then." Dutch spoke up for the first time in minutes. He nodded at John. "You, Micah and me can shoot our way outta there once we get Arthur, as long as Hosea can cause a distraction."

"I may be old, Dutch, but I ain't slow." The older man smirked. "I just need some backup. One man should be enough."

"Javier?" John suggested with a shrug.

"Sure." Hosea nodded his head. "Go and tell him for me, will you?"

"I'm not going to stand by and watch either." You interrupted, voice firm and hellbent. "I'll help wherever. The distraction, the guns, I don't care. I just want to see Arthur get out of there alive."

All three men were silent, but you could tell they all shared the same thought and realization. Your sympathy for Arthur.

Hosea then looked at John and nodded. Taking that as a dismissal, the young man walked away, towards one of the campfires, where he approached a Mexican fellow.

You coughed awkwardly. "On another topic...when are you going to do...all of this?" You asked with a simple gesture towards the wooden table, eyes darting between Dutch and Hosea. "I don't think we'll be able to get through to the prison cell, no matter how big the distraction."

"My dear, you should not underestimate us." Dutch responded with that same, honeyed smile.

"She may be right, Dutch. We don't know how guarded it is." Hosea argued. "We should send someone there to see what it looks like. One of the women, to avoid raising suspicion."

"I can do it." You blurted, which earned a surprised look from Dutch and a knowing smile from Hosea. "Scout it out, see what we could do."

"Take Mary-Beth with you." Dutch instructed. "The young woman over there, curly brown hair, readin' a book in that tent."

You glanced where you were told to, an saw a pretty young woman glancing up from a novel, laughing airily when she saw a dog — more precisely Lobo (when had that little rascal left your side?) — and patting his head before watching him trot over to a young boy sitting in the dust with his own pet.

You gave the two men a curt, sincere nod as you stood up. "I shall."

"Miss (l/n)?" Dutch piped up, and you turned around to look at him with a tilt of your head. "Leave the dog here. Wouldn't want to frighten any of those...feeble-minded officers."

Hosea was quicker to pick up on your slightly disgruntled expression and assured you that dogs weren't on their killing list, and that young Jack, one of the boys at camp, would be thrilled to have company for his own canine best friend.

So you did end up leaving Lobo in their care, momentarily.

But not without a hug and a treat before your departure.

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Mary-Beth was good company, albeit nosy in the slightest. Alright, 'in the slightest' was a bit of an understatement, but it was quite endearing, in a way.

"That's all so romantic!" She sighed, spurring on her horse to keep up with yours.

You had just told her about how you and Arthur met, though you quite failed to understand what part of it caused that specific emotion.

"Romantic?" You repeated, voice going up an octave in both embarrassment and confusion. "What could possibly be romantic about almost getting my arm chewed by a wolf and embarrassing myself to a complete stranger?"

"Now, you ain't lookin' at it the right way, miss (l/n)." She argued. "He saved you, from certain death, in fact. Arthur was your knight in shining armor, that fateful night."

You chuckled and shrugged your shoulders. "The way I see it, you're reformulating my stupid mistake into sounding romantic."

"Maybe I am. Ain't too much of a stretch, considering all the silly romance novels I read." She paused, taking a strand of her horse's mane between her fingers and twirling it before looking back at you. "But I think he deserved it too, ya know?"

You raised a brow. "Arthur? What exactly did he deserve?"

"Romance. For someone to care, I mean. To care for real." Mary-Beth explained. "He's been used time and time again, and he's never expected anything in return. From anyone he's ever loved. So that's why I think...well, he deserves this — you. Someone that would risk as much for him as he would for them."

You leaned forward with a cheeky grin and a cocked brow. "And how are you so sure about that?"

"Don't think I wasn't listenin' to that little conversation o' yours with Dutch 'n Hosea." She smirked right back. "You're dead set on gettin' him back, ain't you?"

You absolutely were.