An Unfortunate Face (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

(2.) A Familiar Man

The sun came through the trees bright and early, the light cascading over your eyes as it woke you from a peaceful night's sleep. You weren't thrilled to be up so early but you were relieved that you hadn't been gutted and pinned to a post by one of those awful Skinner Brothers.

You sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as the sun continued to violate your pupils. Your horse was calmly grazing by your head, somehow narrowly missing your messy hair.

"Mornin', h/n," you smiled at them, trying no to groan as you sat up. The air was thick and humid against your skin, making you crave a bath. The feeling of your hair sticking to your wet forehead was enough to make you want to throw your thin winter coat on the back of your horse somewhere, but you knew that you'd need it where you were going.

You thought about making a fire for some coffee but decided against it, figuring the extra warmth would make the surrounding heat unbearable. The vibrant sun had already woken you up anyway.

The past few days had been spent planning out your trip into the mountains; Arthur was a member of a gang known as the Van der Linde's, a name you'd come across once or twice before. A gang that big would be easy to track, but it also meant you had less of a chance of finding him alone. You hoped that if you followed their movements long enough, you might find the right opportunity to strike.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled out the small map you'd bought a few days prior and glanced over the red circles and arrows you'd marked. Everything was ready and planned; all you needed to do was actually find the man.

"You ready to get ourselves a bounty?" You asked your horse as you folded the map back into a small rectangle. They nuzzled your arm as if to answer you, finally lifting your mood. It had been just the two of you for so long that they had become part of your family. The only family you had, really.

You double checked your mental list of supplies and then rechecked again. Warm clothes, plenty of food, blankets, camping supplies. That was everything.

Blackwater was the farthest east you'd travelled in a long, long time. You'd never gone up into the mountains, but you'd heard the stories; The mountains could be unforgiving and harbor temperatures cold enough to kill you—even in the middle of May.

You packed the last of your smaller belongings into your satchel and slung it over your shoulder, letting the bag comfortably rest at your hip. You made sure the ground looked the same as it had the night before as you mounted your horse, eager to get a head start. There had been no news of Arthur's capture; the only news about the Van der Linde's you'd found was about a member named Mac Callander who'd died shortly after being captured by the Pinkertons.

Pinkertons, you thought. Shit. Maybe this bounty was out of your league.

No. You hadn't planned and waited and come all this way for nothing. I mean, what could it hurt to try? A lot, actually. But you didn't exactly have much to lose.

"Come on, h/n. We got a long journey ahead," you cooed, rubbing their mane. They neighed again in response and you urged them forward, their pace becoming a quick trot as they followed the unkempt path. Looking down at your compass, you headed north and planned to cross the Upper Montana River, only a mile or so away now.

It would only be a matter of time before Arthur Morgan was yours.

•••••••••••

You eventually slowed down at the entrance to Strawberry, careful to let your horse take a break. Groups of townsfolk milled mindlessly about, seemingly talking about nonsense, so you took your time as your horse gently trod through the roads.