Inevitable

503 17 1
                                        

1899

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1899

That next morning was cold. You had grown used to the body heat of somebody else beside you so that could be a possible explanation as to why you weren't welcomed to the day with warmth.

Abigail had given you a long white cotton nightgown to wear that night, it was very different from the long-sleeve lace gowns you'd grown used to living with William. Abigail was still neatly curled around Jack, sleeping peacefully.

The morning wasn't grey, but by soothing lavender and brilliant amber. The colors almost merged into a neon pink and peach. You had wakened early in the morning in the stronghold to watch the sunrise. After all, you could only see so many.

Pearson had already made a pot of coffee that you poured into a cup, taking sips every so often while you stood at the edge of the deck and watched the magnificent colors of the sky.

The spreading sunrise made the pinkish glow form into a deep amber that only seemed to get lighter. Once you ran out of coffee you walked over to get another, just one wasn't going to suffice you through an entire day with the gang again.

Abigail was up now, Sadie at her hip as they sipped on their coffee together near the pot of stew. "Good morning," you say to them with a pleasant smile.

"'Mornin' (Y/N)," Sadie says as she takes the last gulp from her cup.

You pour more coffee into your cup and look up at Abigail as she giggles, "Tired huh?"She asks and you nod.

"Like you wouldn't believe," you sigh and stretch out your back.

"I was just askin' Sadie if she would borrow you a few clothes until we can get you some or your own," Abigail says, "I know you don't really like wearin' dresses or skirts and Sadie's the only other woman who wears that stuff."

Sadie flicks her gaze to yours, "I got a few things that'll fitcha," She says and looks you up and down, "Come with me." She says and leads you to her tent, her things were stored in an old crate that once stowed moonshine.

"Thank you, Sadie." You say as she hands you a few pairs of bottoms, some button up blouses and an extra pair of raggedy black boots.

"It's no problem," She says and smiles up at you, "It's a bit of a relief seeing that I'm not the only woman who prefers trousers over skirts." She jokes and walks away, letting you change.

You slip into a black button up shirt and a pair of faded dark blue jeans, and for a moment everything feels normal again. You hadn't worn these type of clothes since the last time you were in the gang, it was somehow empowering.

You couldn't help but bring your attention towards Micah who was walking to Reverend Swanson, who was as usual laid out beside Pearson's wagon.

"Look at him!" Micah calls out through the butt of his cigarette between his teeth, the pitch of his voice rising up and down. "Huh? Look at him!" He calls again, you start to walk over to the men as Reverend Swanson blinks into a conscious state. You always had a soft spot for Swanson, as nasty as he could be in his intoxicated states. Micah takes the cigarette from his mouth and holds it in between his fingers, "It's a disgrace. You're a disgrace." He spits and slams the heel of his shoe into Reverends ribs. "Rest of us are our riskin' our necks so this... degenerate man of the cloth can dissipate himself-" Miss Grimshaw seemed to have had the same thing in mind as she intervened.

Wait.       {Arthur Morgan x Reader}Where stories live. Discover now