RDR2: Taciturn

Chapter 11

Micah's expression faltered, shock covering his features. Arthur froze behind me, I wagered he had a similar expression on his face. I ducked my head down, scratching my neck awkwardly.

"F-for sh-shooting Bronte," I continued, "S-s-saving me. I-I was t-terrified. B-but you helped m-me."

"You're welcome, kid," there was a strange tone to Micah's voice, I looked up to see him smiling, a genuine smile, "And thanks for finally trusting me."

I returned the smile and he walked away, laughing slightly to himself. I turned back to Arthur, there was a deep frown on his face.

"I'm sorry," I said nervously.

"For what?" He looked taken aback.

"Speaking to him first," I sighed.

"Eliza, I really don't care who you choose to speak to first, that's your decision," he laughed slightly, his features relaxing, "God, speak to Uncle first for all I care! I'm just relieved, shocked, overjoyed that you're back again, that you're talking to anyone again."

"He was the one who shot Bronte, saved me from his grasp," I scratched my neck awkwardly, "I knew I had to thank him, but I didn't think writing it would cut it."

"I'm proud of you, kid," he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, "Are you ready to go face the others again?"

"More than," I grinned, "I need to apologise for going silent on them."

"They understand, you don't need to apologise," he sighed slightly but I shook my head.

"I do," I countered, "I trust them all, I know they're only trying to help, yet I pushed them away. It wasn't fair."

"Well, its your call, but they'll say the same as me," he said.

We reached the campfire, everyone was staring at me, taking note of my changed demeanour. There was some muttering when I took out my journal and began writing in it, I got the gist of what they were saying. Relief was what they felt.

I'm sorry for going silent, more so than before. I needed time to come to terms with it, but that doesn't excuse pushing you all away when you just wanted to help. So I'm sorry

As Arthur predicted, every single person at the campfire began telling me there was no need to be sorry. I just smiled and accepted what they said, but I knew and they knew that my apology was genuine. And that was all that mattered in that moment.

Over the next few days, the boys were getting ready for this mayor's party. I wasn't invited, much to my relief, and I enjoyed watching Arthur complain that he had to wear a suit.

Micah was also not invited, likely because he was hardly able to brush up well enough for it, so I had been spending some time with him. He was teaching me how to clean my guns. I hadn't spoken much to him since the day I thanked him, only saying the odd word when we were either alone or with Arthur or Hosea, but he didn't seem to mind. I was seeing a side of Micah he had never shown anyone, a protective side, and I was overjoyed.

But I knew Arthur was a little miffed at how much time I was spending with Micah, and Dutch had told me as much. I was sat next to Micah as he cleaned his guns (he was obsessive) when I noticed Arthur staring at us, a deep frown on his face. I sighed, standing up and walking towards him, he plastered a relatively fake smile on his face.

"You and Micah are getting along well," he commented, his voice strained.

"Mr Morgan, are you jealous?" I laughed slightly, shaking my head at him.