Another Him- RDR2

family

It was dusk when you finally rode into Valentine. It was much different than Rhodes. It was busier, and the people were comparatively more rowdy. Biscuit's hooves left deep tracks in the muddy street.

You were hungry. You hadn't really eaten all day, since you planned to get here earlier and eat with the gang. But your horse caught something in her shoe near Dewberry Creek, so you had to stop for a while to clean them out. It was an easy task for two people- one to keep her calm and the other to do the job. On your own, though, she was easily irritated and wouldn't cooperate. It took you upwards of an hour to get back on the road.

So you made a new plan- grab some food at the saloon, then go and find the camp. Just as soon as you turned down onto the main street, the sound of drunken shouting rang through the air.

"Figures..." you muttered to yourself. Of course, there had to be a bar fight. "Looks like we'll have to wait till tomorrow for a meal." You stroked Biscuit's mane as you spoke to her. You reached around into you saddlebag, rummaged through it blindly, and found your last apple. You continued down the street, steering with one hand and eating with the other. The shouting inside the bar got louder the closer you came to it, but you tried to block it out.

The next moments went by fast. You barely saw the mass of bodies launch itself out the window, you barely heard the glass shattering. In an instant, Biscuit let out a terrifying noise and reared up on her hind legs. You were thrown off into the mud, your apple flew out of your hand, and the wind was knocked out of you. Struggling to breathe, it took you a few seconds to get back on your feet, only to see that your horse had taken off down the road past the stables. Pain shot through your right shoulder.

Finally, you could see what had happened. People were rushing out of the saloon as well as the hotel across the street to gather around the two men wrestling in the mud before you. They started to fill in in front of you, at your sides, and behind you. You shifted around to get a good view. One of the men, probably two times the size of the other, was sitting on top of him, landing blow after blow right to the man's face. "Get 'em, Tommy!" a bystander shouted.

You thought, surely, the smaller one was about to get himself killed. But then Tommy threw another punch, which he caught in his palm. It caught Tommy off guard. The crowd gasped. He used that the surprise his advantage, slamming his knee into his...

"Damn!" Tommy bellowed in pain, rolling off the smaller man and onto his back. He hugged his torso in agony.

"You big bastard," the other man grunted. His accent was strange, but familiar. It was hard to see him from where you were. You studied his face intently, but between the darkness and the mud plastered over it, you couldn't tell who it was.

He had climbed on top of the incapacitated Tommy and was slugging him again and again across the face. You winced, watching the bigger man slowly stop struggling under the other.

"Arthur, enough!" a deep voice yelled from the other side of the crowd.

Arthur?

You furrowed your brow, squinting at the man, and pushed your way through the crowd. Could it be him? you wondered. You stepped into the middle of the circle, looking down at the two. The smaller one had slowed down, but was still throwing punches. "Arthur?"

At the sound of your voice, he stopped, turned, looked up at you. His face was covered in dirt and blood, do you couldn't really read his reaction, but his speechlessness said enough. "Y/N?"

You smiled. Of course, it was him. Arthur was like a brother to you. The two of you joined the gang around the same time, about 20 years ago, and he was closer to family than your own family, along with John. But in those 20 years, you had never seen him lose a fight. You should've known it was him. "What in the hell are you doing?" you teased. "It's the first time I've seen you in seven months, and you've already beaten some poor feller half to death."

"Arthur, let's go." The same voice from earlier, but closer this time. You looked up from Arthur to see a tall, dark figure push his way into the circle. He looked up from Arthur at you. You saw him smile. "You're back."

"Charles," you greeted him. "Good to see you, but what's going on here?"

"You wanna guess?" Arthur asked. He was wiping the grime from his face, flicking it from his hands back to the ground. "And it ain't what, it's who."

You thought for a moment. Obviously, this escalated from the bar fight you heard, but Arthur and Charles wouldn't start that. It was someone else. You opened your mouth to answer, but you were interrupted by a shout that came from the front of the saloon.

"What a fight, Morgan!" a man shouted loudly. You recognized that voice. You spun around to see Bill Williamson, along with Javier Escuella, coming down the steps of the bar. Bill's arm was slung around Javier's shoulder, and he stumbled slightly coming down the stairs.

"Figures," you mumbled to Arthur and Charles. Arthur had stood up and came to your left side, and the other walked over to your right.

"That only happened because you were bein' and idiot," Arthur spat at Bill. Javier guided him to the three of you. "What happened to layin' low?"

"You're no fun, Morgan," Bill laughed. He was either ignoring you or hadn't noticed you were there. Javier, however, smiled at you. "Glad you could make it, Y/N."

"How you doing, Javier? Bill?" you asked them. You had always liked Javier. He was friendly to you, and even flirted with you from time to time. It was Bill you didn't really like. You saw him as standoffish and stubborn. You weren't on bad terms with him. You just weren't close to him like you were with the rest of the gang.

Javier opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but instead looked over your shoulder. Just then, you heard a voice behind you. "Gentlemen! What a pleasure it is to see you!"

"Lord," you heard Arthur mutter. The three of you turned around and saw two men crossing the street, both dressed in elegant clothing.

You could tell one of them was Trelawny from the way he talked. The other had to be Dutch.

"Charles, you're looking well. Strong. Javier and Bill. Y/N, I haven't seen you in a while. And Arthur! My dear boy, you go get yourself cleaned up!"

"Sure, Trelawny," Arthur said before walking off into an alley. You followed him with your eyes, watched him kneel over a barrel to splash water on his face.

"Y/N, you've made it," Dutch said cordially. "Welcome back."

"Thanks, Dutch," you grinned. Arthur came back and took his place at your side, his hair and face wet, but clean.

"Look who I've found sniffing about," Dutch introduced Trelawny.

"What're you doing here?" Arthur asked him. "I thought you went up to New York."

"And miss all this glamor?" Trelawny joked, motioning around at the dirty town. "No, I went to Blackwater looking for you gentlemen. It seems your not too popular there."

"No, we're not," Dutch affirmed.

"We left a lot of money there," Arthur added.

"And young Sean, as well," said Trelawny.

"Sean?" you asked. You felt six pairs of eyes fall on you at once. You looked to each of the men. "Where's Sean?"

"You don't know," Javier said in sympathy.

"Shit," Bill cursed.

"Right," said Dutch. His voice cracked. "What are we doing? We need to get you back to camp, Y/N. We'll tell you everything once we get there. Gentlemen, let's ride!"

The six of them went to get on their horses, all hitched on different posts along the street, and you whistled for yours. A few moments and you heard her hoofbeats slamming into the earth. You saw her emerge from the woods behind the stable.

"There you are, girl," you spoke to her when she got close. You stroked her nose, then grabbed the horn of her saddle, put your foot through the stirrup, and swung your leg around. At the top of the street, everyone was waiting for you.

You clicked to Biscuit, picking up speed till she reached a fast trot, and joined the men. Heading out of the town, you crossed the train tracks, riding south into the forest.