The Last Love Of Arthur Morgan

No One Gets Out Alive

Arthur and Dutch rode with Javier, Lenny and Micah, into the depths of the bayou, with the hopes of dismantling a still. Apparently the moonshiner's weren't giving Catherine Braithwaite her share, and since she and Bronte were business partners, he was feeling the wrath.

They left their horses at the bridge incase things went awry, which they suspected it would. Dutch sent Micah, Lenny and Javier ahead of them to scope out the area, while he and Arthur took out a few moonshiners that stood on watch.

Arthur crept up behind a shiner, no more than eighteen, his feet bare and pants rolled up around his ankles. He unsheathed his knife, wrapped his hand around the kid's mouth and slid the blade of his knife across his jugular. Blood squirted every where and his eyes rolled back into his head. Arthur quickly disposed of the body and moved on to his next target; crouching behind a tree so that he wouldn't be seen. 

As his target came into view, he stopped a moment to look around as if he sensed Arthur's presence, then turned to face the still. And just as Arthur readied himself for the kill, Dutch seemingly leapt out of nowhere and in one swift motion, twisted the moonshiner's neck with a sickening crunch. 

He stood up straight and looked at Arthur, his eyes darkened by the kill, his chest rising and falling. Arthur felt a chill run down his spine. 

"I was gonna do it." Arthur hissed.

"You were too slow, Arthur." Dutch waved his hand."I don't have time for your griping, we still have a few more hicks to tackle."

Arthur gripped his knife and followed Dutch, crouching low to the ground. He focused his anger on the next moonshiner, slicing his throat with such blunt force, he nearly decapitated him.

When it finally came down to the last one, he was ready for it, but Dutch got to the shiner before him...again. He stood tall and proud, as he wiped the blood and gore from the blade. 

"Must be getting old, Arthur. Not too long ago, you could out run me, out kill me, out think me too." He taunted.

"Shut up." He mumbled.

"What?"

He whirled around."I said shut up!" 

Dutch raised a brow."Is that a fact?"

"Yeah it is a Goddamn fact! Been waitin' on you to shut up since I met you!"

Arthur stomped over to the still and began taking inventory of the barrels, anything to stop him from beating the living shit out of Dutch. And it was getting pretty hard to find something to distract him these days. 

He counted out seventeen barrels and one that was busted. Eighteen in total - seems as if Braithwaite was getting cheated out on her share. Arthur snorted and shook his head, not believing for one second that these hicks could even count, let alone scam someone. 

As he turned around, a shot rang out and a bullet lodged in the trunk of a large tree beside him. It took a moment to process what had just happened, before he hit the ground, belly crawling away from the still. He slid into the water and waded over to the wagon, ducking as bullets whizzed overhead, lodging in trees and crashing into the water. 

He hoisted himself up on to the soft terrain and placed his back firmly against a tree, fishing around for his pistol, thankful it didn't get too wet.

His heart was beating a mile a minute and his stomach was in knots. But a shootout is just what he needed to let off some steam and with any luck at all, he may even hit something worth while. 

He peered around the trunk and pointed his pistol, drew back the hammer and pulled the trigger - the bullet clanked against something near the still. With a grunt and curse, he pulled the hammer back again, pulled the trigger and this time a cry sliced through the thick air.