The Last Love Of Arthur Morgan

A.M

The last few weeks have been utter hell. We lost four people - great people, all on account of Dutch's stupidity. Sometimes I cant believe him. Im convinced he thinks he's doing good, which is the scariest part of all this.

So the whole Bronte thing went down hill real fast. He was stringing Dutch along the whole time, while Dutch put his trust in him. I knew he was full of shit the moment he spoke, but I kept quiet for Dutch. 

Somehow, during all this, the O'Driscoll's found their way into camp and shot us up. Only after they decapitated poor Kieran and tied his body and head to his horse. The attack was linked to Bronte; a greasy fucker he was.

He lasted all about two seconds, after Dutch realized he was being strung along. We ended up kidnapping him for a little question and answer session, only Dutch drowned and fed him to the gators. I couldn't believe what was happening, yet, I never stopped him. Nobody did. 

I think I was in shock. I've seen and done a lot of things, but that was just too dangerous even for me.

After that, Dutch had the great idea of robbing a bank in Saint Denis and not just any bank, but their biggest and finest establishment. Quite the laugh we had as we were run out of Saint Denis, having to stay in an empty apartment building and losing out on thirty thousand - again.

But that wasnt even the worst of it. We had to watch Hosea die right in front of us, when Dutch could've done something to stop it. But he didn't even make an effort. 

Lenny died too that day and I stayed with him until the end. He thought I was Jenny and told me he loved me. I still have nightmares about that...in broad daylight. Does it even count as a nightmare if you're awake?

So now we're in another swamp, only this time it holds no former southern charm or beauty. The place is a dump. But we're only here for another day, then we'll be moving on again. To where? I can't rightfully say.

I can say that I am so very tired, though I'm mostly angry. I feel like I've wasted so much time and I probably have. But I cant go back to how things used to be, it ain't even possible. I'm aware of too many things. For one, my hatred for Dutch and now, my declining health. 

I didn't want to acknowledge it, but now it's getting worse. I could deal with the coughing, but now I'm spitting up blood. I'm trying to think of what it could be, but everything with the gang has got my head so clouded, I don't even know what's up and what's down anymore. 

I can't tell Lorna, because she'll want me to go to the doctor and I ain't so sure I want to find out that I got an incurable disease. I'd rather not know anything. I think they call that, living in blissful ignorance? 

Anyway, when I was out in that storm, I thought nothing of myself. For some odd reason, I was worried sick about Dutch and the other's safety - maybe it was my life line. But come to find out, I wasn't even given a second thought. They were too busy in town getting fancied up, while I was shark bait.

Apparently, they were picked up by another fishing vessel and taken back into Saint Denis, where they posed as fishermen. They figured they could get away with it and they did. 

I did get another horse out of the whole ordeal, courtesy of the two fishermen who found me. Their names were John Paul and James O'Neil, two brothers from Boston. I'm thinking of going back to Van Horn to repay them for their generosity, because without them, I would've still been walking.

I heard that Lorna took charge while we were away and despite Dutch being back, folks around here turn to Lorna for support rather than him.

I've only been back a day and I see the way she speaks to these folks and the way she takes care of them, it's more than Dutch ever did or will ever do. Perhaps Charles was right, there needs to be a change in leadership.

(Quick sketch of Lakay)

A.M