(Red Dead Redemption 2 Story)
'𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 - 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.'
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From the author that brought you 'Playing Dangerous'
You are the daughter of one of the most brutal, sought after 'Guns for Hire'...
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The afternoon sun was perching low in the sky by the time yourself and Arthur returned to camp. There was a buzz about the place, most of those who had been out in the daytime now returned - almost as if the smell of Pearson's stew had drawn them back from whatever sordid activities they'd been participating in.
You had barely dismounted and gotten Mavis attached to the tethering post when from the corner of your eyes, you could see Dutch advancing. A sense of accomplishment consumed you when you noted the huge smile on his face.
"Mr Summers has already filled me in on your little exploit today," he grinned, patting your shoulder in a friendly and fatherly manner, "good job!"
A new and formerly unfamiliar feeling of belonging blossomed in the base of your stomach - and you smiled bashfully in return, unsure of what to say that would express your gratitude.
"I told y' she was capable, Arthur." Dutch then added before you could say a word, his brown gaze directed triumphantly at the outlaw who stood next to you, having just finished removing the saddle from Artemis' back.
"I didn't doubt her for one second." Arthur quickly returned to his superior, his blue eyes meeting yours with a friendly and seemingly proud gaze. "She did real good."
"Thank you," the words didn't seem enough for the way you were feeling, it gave you an importance like you'd not known before - an importance and validation you'd been seeking for a long time.
It seemed the sense of victory and entitlement couldn't linger for long - as Miss Grimshaw was on her way over with a basket of washing in hand, and your gut sank.
"Miss (surname)!" She started, her voice loud and permeating your ears like some kind of scolding teacher, "congratulations on your take, it seems you're the talk of camp."
From either side of you, you could sense the unmoving glances of Dutch and Arthur who stood by wordlessly.
"However - outlaw or not, you still need to do your share." She then added in a much duller and more dictating tone of voice, thrusting the basket of washing into your grasp with a victoriously snide smirk that made you feel like a sulking child.
You wanted to protest - you didn't feel this was your duty anymore. However when you went to open your mouth, you felt immediately silenced by the look you received from old Susan. If looks could kill, you would've died on the spot there.
"Mr Morgan," she then turned her attention to Arthur, who was midway through lighting a cigarette. His glance snapped over in surprise, the thin off-white cigarette hanging from his lips.
