An Unfortunate Face (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

(11.) Ain't About the Money

You woke up coated in a light sweat. You had kicked your covers off the night before, but it hadn't done much to help the humidity.

You wiped your face with your nightgown and rummaged through your things. Most of your clothes were made for normal and cold weather, since the Great Plains were fairly temperate.

But this weather was different; it was heavy and wet and hot. You found a cooler top at the bottom of your sack, but it was revealing.

You were too hot to care.

You put on the shirt and finished with your pants and boots. You looked more like a vigilante than a bounty hunter, but at least you were finally fitting the part.

You opened your tent and Mrs. Grimshaw was already standing in front of you, hands on her hips.

"Nice of you to finally wake up, now hurry up and get somethin' done 'round here!"

You sighed and crossed your arms. She walked away and you headed over to the hay bales, taking a large one in your hands. If you busied yourself with handiwork, she wouldn't make you sew anything.

You carried it with ease to the horses and placed it before them. Kieran had been brushing his own horse and looked up at the noise around him.

"O-oh, uh...thank you, I coulda' done that."

"Ain't a problem," you assured, wiping your hands on your pants. "You think you're gonna need another one?"

He looked at the pile, and then at the horses. "You can take a pile to the other posts, I've got plenty here."

You nodded and headed off to the piles of hay. You lifted another and brought it to the other side of camp, where the rest of the horses were eagerly waiting. Yours nudged you and you gave them a couple scratches, earning a neigh in response.

Other camp members had started to roam around, a few of the men taking long looks at you. It was nothing weird; if anything, it was amusing.

You walked over to the large stump at the edge of camp. There were a few full logs surrounding your feet, so you grabbed one and split it down the middle.

You wiped your forehead between each swing, the axe splitting clean through. Your bare arms tensed with each moment, and the members couldn't help but stare.

You heard footsteps moving behind you but you kept yourself staring straight, not caring about anything but the wood. Maybe it would've been easier to sit down and clean clothes, but you had a point to prove.

"Arthur," you heard Strauss say. Your eyes cut to the side of his figure in your peripheral; He was sitting down while Arthur stood, hands against his belt.

You placed another log on the stump and listened closely to their conversation. You didn't really like Strauss, for the sole fact that he preyed on people who needed help, everything Arthur said the gang was against.

"There are two debts I need you to recover," said Strauss slowly. "A Gwyn Hughs, an apprentice of the Rhodes undertaker, and a...Winton Holmes. Seems he was last spotted in the mountains."

You swung the axe particularly hard into the wood, splintering it loudly and causing the axe to get stuck in the stump.

Both Arthur and Strauss turned around, fixing their eyes on you. Arthur's mouth parted slightly in a silent gasp as his eyes washed over you.

"I-I'll go get those debts, 'xcuse me," Arthur said, making his way to you. You were still facing away from the pair and your foot landed on the stump, pulling the axe out cleanly.