When the Devil Cries (Arthur Morgan X Male OC)

2. The Pianist

From Arthur's POV

SAINT DENIS

Riding alongside Dutch and Hosea, the three of us exited the gloomy swamplands and approached a metallic bridge that had the words "Saint Denis" standing above it, keeping our heads down as we crossed into civilized land.

Even though it was still rather early in the morning, there were already a number of stagecoaches going in and out of the city, carrying passengers that were gussied up in clothes more valuable than my entire coin purse. I guessed Dutch was right about them rich folk gallivanting 'round the place. Couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

Sure, there was probably loads of money in it for us, but when it came to robbin' people like the ones in Saint Denis, we usually had to "get to know 'em" first. And that was an even bigger pain in the ass. I just hoped we wouldn't be here long.

"Well!" Dutch announced, spreading his arms out as we came to a stop, "here we are, gentlemen. Saint Denis. A city where the people are almost as bad as the smell, and their bellies are fuller than their pockets."

I chuckled in a sarcastic tone. "This their idea of civilization? It looks like torture. And that's comin' from someone who's seen Micah drunk."

Dutch reached over and patted my back, grinning. "Optimism, Arthur. With civilization comes rules. And with rules, comes the illusion of safety. These people will let their guard down faster than you can draw a gun, especially with all the lawmen here to protect them. After all..." he gave me a friendly wink, "...what kinda fool would raise hell with so many cops around?"

Hosea jumped into the conversation, throwing his own two cents in. "We should split up; travel alone. Three strangers on the hunt will raise too much suspicion. It'll be far easier to move around if we're by ourselves. Plus, we'll cover more ground that way."

Dutch nodded in agreement. "Alright. I'll go look into that theater. The Râleur, I believe it's called. Hosea, why don't you check out the bank? City like this is bound to have piles of cash sittin' in it. Arthur, you sniff around that saloon, the Bastille. I'm sure there are plenty of wealthy, drunk bastards you could swipe some money from. Or at least lead you in the right direction."

I quirked a brow. "Thought you wanted me to avoid saloons?"

He smirked. "If there's any chance you're gonna start a fight, I'd rather it be in a saloon than a bank."

My expression stiffened with annoyance as I gently snapped my horse's reins, trotting off ahead the two of them.

"Never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

Dutch laughed, waving a casual goodbye as I put some distance between us.

"The day I trust you to behave in a saloon is the day I'll trust Bill to handle explosives again. Good luck, son. And watch your back." His voice lowered with seriousness. "We ain't the only thieves in this city...nor are we the worst."

~~~~~~~~~~

THE BASTILLE

Walking up to the deluxe saloon, I hitched my horse to a nearby post before hopping off, ignoring the curious looks I got from the strangers around me as I headed inside. I was well aware that I stuck out like Uncle in a church, and to be perfectly honest, I had no idea how to behave in front of people like this...but perhaps the drinks would take off some of the stress.

True, it was a bit early to be gettin' drunk already, but frankly I didn't give a damn. After all the shit that the gang had been through -- especially in recent times -- I figured I deserved a drink.