When the Devil Cries (Arthur Morgan X Male OC)

7. Your Tomb is my Home

From Arthur's POV

SHADY BELLE

"Well done!" Dutch complimented as we unloaded the money from the stagecoach. "Very well done, indeed. I had a feelin' that the theater was laden with cash, and it looks like I was right."

I helped Bill out and lifted one of the sacks over my shoulder, bringing it over to Dutch's office.

"We got more than just the money," I informed him. "We also managed to swipe some of the props they was storin' backstage. They're pretty valuable, apparently. Made outta gold and silver. Fancy gemstones, too."

The other man nodded happily. "Good, good. Well, once you fellas are finished getting these sacks where they need to be, one of you go visit our dear friend Seamus and see what he can do with those props. The rest o' you, get some rest. Hosea and I got a few ideas with the bank, as well as that gala Arthur's been lookin' into. But for now, just enjoy this moment. You deserve it."

Walking off to attend to other matters, Dutch took his leave while Bill, Charles, and I hauled the bags into the ruined mansion we called our home, plopping them down just inside the flimsy front doors.

It had been quite a while since I'd seen so much money in one place, and half of me felt relieved that we finally avoided a disaster for once. The last time we got a score this big was back in Blackwater, and even then, we didn't get to keep the money. Just tossed it into some hidden stash only to never retrieve it.

To be honest, the only reason I wanted to get it back now was so Micah would shut up about it.

But despite all the thanks and congrats from my fellow gang members, I still couldn't shake Eddie out of my thoughts.

Williamson knocked the poor boy flat on the ground back at the theater, and I highly doubted he woke up in time for his part in the performance. Not that it mattered much. Any money Eddie would've made from the show, we just stole.

Lord...what was I doin' with my life? One minute I was helping out some lost kid come stumblin' here from England...and the next I was robbing him blind. It was like I couldn't decide who to be.

Pfft. Here I was always tellin' Marston not to be two people at once, and yet I was masquerading as about fifteen.

I just...

...I didn't know.

Deep down, some part of me wanted to forget all about the gang and run off with Eddie someplace. I hardly knew the boy, and he knew even less about me...but somethin' about that pianist just told me he was a soul worth saving.

The way he confronted me at the theater...I could tell the man was terrified for his life. But even then, he didn't waver. Didn't flinch. Instead, Eddie looked me square in the eye and kept his gun up, regardless of how much he might've wanted to run away.

Well, he might not've been the strongest in terms of physique, but Mister Ryan certainly possessed a courage that was only carried by men who still had something left to fight for.

I only wondered what it was.

Headin' upstairs to my room, I decided to call it a day and threw off my gun belt the second I walked in before collapsing right into bed, allowing myself to sink into the mattress as I shut my eyes.

Jesus...after all the hell I raised today, I was definitely gonna have to make it up to Eddie somehow.

Maybe I could pay him a visit tomorrow. Take him out ridin' again and practice some more with his gun. Probably a stupid idea, considering he nearly blew my damned brains out today -- or what was left of 'em -- but I enjoyed spending time with the boy. I was only worried that today's robbery might've messed him up more than I thought.