Red Dead Damnation (Van der Linde gang x Male Reader)

Part. 1

By 1899, the age of outlaws and gunslingers was at an end. America was becoming a land of laws...even the West had mostly been tamed. A few gangs still roamed but they were being hunted down and destroyed.

But even when the end seems near some stay determined and keep fighting.

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The wind howled as a small group of covered wagons rolled up the snow-covered mountains. The snow that it kicked up pounded on the sides of the cloth. The horses pulled forward, obviously overworked and underfed. The cold only got worse as the sunset, the only source of light came from the dim lanterns that were hung on the front.

The occupants of the three wagons were obviously not in a cheerful mood, especially the one leading the other two. As Davey Callander was laying in the back, his life was slowly leaving him, as his wounds were too great. The resident Reverend had essentially given up, he ran a hand through his messy red and gray hair, there was nothing else he could do, he silently shook his head and hopped off the wagon. Leaving two women to keep him comfortable until he died. Reverend Swanson's walked up to the driver of the wagon, a grim expression engraved on his face. The Reverend kept pace with the wagon, he spoke to the driver in an extremely worried tone, his voice was muffled due to the wind, "Abigail says he's dying, Dutch. We'll have to stop someplace."

The driver Dutch van der Linde didn't seem to like the idea of stopping but he nodded, his wise demeanor never cracked, "Okay. Arthur's out looking, I sent him up ahead." Reverend Swanson nodded, as he was obviously not in the mood for a conversation he walked back into the back of the wagon to try to warm up.

The man sitting next to Dutch spoke with clear concern, "If we don't stop soon, we'll all be dying." The man looked around frustrated at the snow, "This weather, it's May." Dutch looked his aged partner, Hosea Matthews, the man sitting next to him, he didn't seem to mind the weather as much, "I'm just hoping the law got as lost as we did, weather be damned."

Suddenly, a shape started to appear out of the snow-covered fog ahead. It quickly took the shape of a man Dutch noticed it, he yelled out, "There!" Suddenly the man revealed himself, he was riding a horse, Dutch quickly exclaimed "Arthur! Any luck?" Arthur got closer to the wagon, his strong features were laced with concern, there was a body thrown over the back of his horse. The rider didn't acknowledge it, "I found a place where we can all get some shelter. Let Davey rest while he...you know."

As Arthur turned around, Dutch noticed the body, he immediately recognized the unconscious young man and turned to Hosea, "I thought I saw him get shot in Blackwater, how did he make it all the way up here?"

Hosea scoffed and shook his head as if the answer to the question was obvious, "That's (F/N) (L/N) for ya, getting out of troubles practically in his blood." Dutch shook his head, he smirked slightly and muttered "that boy."

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(F/N)'s eyes snapped open, as soon as Arthur dropped him on the floor of the cabin. He took a large gasp of air, he could barely move. He felt like he was frozen stiff, the last thing he remembered was falling off his horse and into the snow.

(F/N) suddenly felt a pain in his side, Arthur spoke in a stern voice, "Get up, (L/N)." He turned his attention to Arthur, he looked at the man in annoyance, but slowly stood up, his mind was slowly catching up to him. The gunslinger stumbled a bit as he caught his balance, Arthur didn't bother to see if he was alright, he walked over to the gang's leader. (F/N) blinked a couple of times and started to follow him. He could hear Miss Susan Grimshaw barking her usual orders with a sharp tounge, 'Miss Gaskill do this, Mr. Pearson look for that' despite the circumstances (F/N) had to smile.