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It was a bit upsetting leaving Valentine, it was a pleasant town with a lot of charm, but it was clearly getting a bit too hot. Rumors of Leviticus Cornwall and Pinkertons swarming around were cause for concern, so the time left in the area was limited, ticking down quickly. Which is what prompted Y/N to practically beg for more excuses to go to town, be it for simple errands or for theft. She wasn’t picky which.
Dutch wasn’t going to decline her want to contribute, not when she’d truly proved how good she was at swindling without bloodshed. But, he didn’t trust her all that much. She supposed it was fair, she hadn’t been around too long, and when they found her, she was essentially a damsel in distress. She wasn’t too concerned in proving herself to the man either. That odd, foreboding feeling he brought with him never left. Though, she managed to hide her skeptical glances whenever he’d get into a speech.
Arthur mentioned it once, and she felt what he said rang very true. Dutch had a gift for speaking. She held her tongue, but she couldn’t help but agree. He had the gift of speech, and that was really it. A lot of words that sounded relevant or full of purpose, but when she truly listened, it felt aimless. Walking in circles. It was a lot of mannerisms that commanded respect and big words of empty encouragement, things that made him sound like a level-headed leader. She’d met men like that before. Mostly preachers. Not that Dutch was a holy man, Lord no.
That aside, she’d managed to grab a few wallets and pieces of expensive accessories on the outskirts of Valentine. Mostly by acting like she needed help. She felt a bit guilty when a stranger was particularly nice, but it was a matter of survival. It went smoothly, but if it hadn’t, she could’ve handled it on her own. And even if she couldn’t, her shadow, a couple yards behind her at any given time, made her feel safe.
Arthur Morgan, on his dusty colored Clysdale mare, hand often hovering on his holster. Watching carefully from a distance. He’d had plenty of adrenaline spikes that day, watching her act so well. Maybe she’d do well in plays. He was sure she’d be quite the sight on a stage, perhaps with a musical element, under bright lights and dressed glamorously.
“Alright, I think we should calm it down now. We’ve gotten lucky but who knows how long that’ll last.” The man commented, leading the horse to walk beside her. Y/N chuckled to herself as she tucked a gold pocket watch into her skirt pocket. “Fair point, sir! We’re close to town anyway. What did we need again?” She questioned, tilting her head up toward him.
Arthur sighed fondly, shaking his head. “You’re the one with the list, sweetheart.” He reminded, looking back down to her. Y/N gazed at him fondly. The brim of his hat left a heavy shadow over his eyes, eyes she found herself dreaming of more often recently. The warm sun radiating over his face, illuminating freckles and smile lines.
“Right, my apologies.” Y/N replied to him, looking for the paper on her person. She wondered if he was aware of how much she liked him. It had to be obvious by now, they had a whole secret language purely for asking for affection. He still asked her for sugar, almost daily. But whatever was between them, it wasn’t labeled. She wondered if it should’ve been, or maybe it would’ve been better to leave it be. It wasn’t like it meant much, putting a word purely to describe the emotions in the air between them.
That, and she was far too nervous to ask.
“Here you go. You tell me where to go, boss.” Y/N held up the list to him, speaking cheerfully. Arthur smiled at her enthusiasm as he took it from her hand. A short list of errands and what to get. “The gunsmith, general store. Somethin’ bout talkin’ to the ranch hands, I guess to scope out if there’s any money floatin’ around the livestock.” He mumbled. He gave her back the list as they approached a hitching post, hopping off Dusty. He patted the mare’s neck and rounded to give Y/N the spending money. “I’ll deal with the ranch stuff, why don’t you try the gunsmith.” It was more a direction than a question, but she didn’t mind. Though her face did express a bit of hesitation. “He might not sell to me. I’ve had that happen before, cause, well,” She paused and made a gesture to her being. Not nearly as done up as when they first met her, but still rather put together. Flowy skirt in a pastel color, the little bow around her neck, hair properly twisted up. “If he gives you any trouble, I’ll handle it.” Arthur patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Right, I forgot. I have a big scary cowboy on my side, what was I thinkin’?” She teased, giggling as Arthur rolled his eyes with a sigh. She straightened out his shirt collar and patted him on the chest. “Let’s get these errands done, I wanna see if we have time to get some food that Pearson didn’t make.” She stepped around him to start toward the gunsmith.
Arthur paused for a moment, watching her walk away. His had raised to graze over his collar, as if he’d get to feel the phantom sensation of her hands. He scoffed at himself, tilting his hat down in a moment of embarrassment. He was growing soft, and the worst part was, he didn’t exactly hate it. It was different, and it was pleasant. Not that he thought this little…crush, or whatever it was, would be enough to completely change the kind of man he was. Wanting to be a gentleman to a kind young lady wasn’t going to make up for years of murdering and theft. It was those factors that made in wholy certain he wasn’t worthy of getting bashful over her attention anyway.
From the second he saw her, she seemed to be the opposite of him, even if time had shown they had quite a few similarities. Hell, she’d killed a man the second he met her. Yet, he couldn’t compare himself to her. Not when she seemed so soft and graceful. Not fragile, no, that wasn’t fitting at all. She’d proven several times to be quite the independent type, be it when it came to standing up for herself or problem solving on the fly. However, her atmosphere reminded him of so many sensitive things.
The feeling of a light breeze on feverish skin, the fur of a kitten, the satisfying burn from a fancy whiskey; the kind that went down real smooth. It wasn’t even limited to when she’d actively interact with him either. Sure, he was particularly taken with her compassionate hands squeezing his shoulder reassuringly after the day had worn away at him. Finding some strange solace in her voice when she said his name so warmly, like it brought her joy to say it. But something about her existence as a whole made him feel that way, it was almost frightening.
Whether she came to him in thought or he watched her from afar, it didn’t matter. There was this anemoia with her presence. He’d never had much of a home, sturdy walls and the safety of a roof. But she felt like that, or, he thought so anyway. However a home was described to feel like, that’s what it was. Though he recognized he wouldn’t really know since he had yet to experience it, and he knew he likely never would.
He’d felt fondness and love for women, and others, before. Some more brief than others. Each time, there was a familiar thread that connected the feeling, so he could recognize it.
This time was truly different though. Why, he wasn’t sure. He’d tried to think about it, weigh it to past experiences. He wasn’t keen on being left in the dark when it came to anything, much less his own feelings. He’d failed though. All that ended up happening last time was he’d zoned out and came back too having drawn her face in his journal. Again.
At the very least, he liked her, a lot. Arthur felt his cheeks burn, no doubt red, much to his dismay. He rubbed his face with both his hands, continuing to walk as he groaned quietly to himself. He wasn’t old per say, but he felt too old to be acting so callow. Like he was a teenager again. Easily flustered and giddy over the smallest things. He shook his head at his foolishness, dropping his arms, but keeping his gaze at the ground. He inhaled, steeling himself, raising his head.
“Hey mister!”
“Oh son of a-“ Arthur turned and was met with the sight of a gun barrel. There was no Irish accent from this man or his companion, though they didn’t sound local either. He sighed as the stranger pulled back the hammer, finger on the trigger. The one aiming the gun was a pale man, dark hair and eyes, clean shaven and probably not much older than himself. His accomplice seemed younger, still carrying some youthful glow in his cheeks that was oddly unmatched by an unkempt beard. Arthur blinked slowly, looking at the gun. He raised his hands, though his face portrayed an aloof expression, perhaps a bit annoyed.
“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble.” Arthur said. “Save it, cowpoke. You speak when spoken to, ya hear?” The gunsman spat. Arthur didn’t hide his face of disgust when he saw some spit leave the man’s lips with the conviction he spoke, thankfully not hitting him. Still gross though.
“I want everythin’ you got, or I shoot you where you stand. Got it?” The stranger demanded. Arthur gritted his teeth. “I ain’t got much to give.” He replied, much to the mugger’s annoyance.
“If you wanna do this the hard way-“ The man and his friend flinched when a woman’s voice broke through the air. Arthur felt his heart sink when he recognized the melodic sound. He looked over his shoulder, as did his adversaries. Sure enough, not too far behind him, the sugary-sweet rabbit he’d rode into town with approached. Her eyes wide with worry, her hands clasped in front of him.
“Don’t interfere, woman!” The younger man shouted. “We’re doing some private business here, so move along.” He pulled out his own gun now, clicking the safety off,
Arthur felt his heart go from his stomach to his throat, blood rushing in quick bursts in his ears. She moved recklessly toward them, in front of him. Blocking him with her arm whilst shouting a protest. Of course, their gun’s aim went to her. That was when she used both hands to cover her stomach, and then pleaded again.
Arthur was now just as confused as he was anxious. He looked over at her face. He’d seen her fear stricken face before, how her brows furrowed with worry, how her lip trembled when her eyes watered. Her face expressed worry now, but it was different. It dawned on him very suddenly that she’d pulled this kind of thing before when playing a trick.
She was acting.
“Please, leave him be. Surely there are other people you could steal from!” Y/N pleaded with a whimpering tone. While the younger man didn’t seem to waver, the older of the two seemed to zero in on her defensive stance with her stomach. “We don’t want their money, we want his.” The bearded attacker hissed. “Please, my husband and I are already on hard times as it is. We need to save now more than ever. Just a little mercy, please.” She begged. If it weren’t for him knowing, Arthur would’ve bought the act fully. She really had a talent for it, even if she was using it for thievery. And, well, for saving his skin.
“Lady, what don’t you get?!“ The young man shouted. “Mason, quit!” The elder man sent a swift whack to the back of the other’s head, his gun lowered. Arthur took a step back when feeling Y/N push at him. She gave him a side glance, and it told him enough. He pulled her to him with hands on her shoulders, before wrapping one arm around her torso, turning her to face him. To shield her more.
“Wh- but, you said-“
“We don’t attack expecting mothers, and I ain’t havin’ you widow’er either.”
The act worked, clearly, but Arthur’s quiet demeanor made Y/N feel unnerved. He seemed disturbed in a way, but she couldn’t exactly take a second to ask why. He was playing along, at least, so she kept up her part as the two men holstered their guns. “We’ll be on our way. But I expect you to keep this between us.” Said the leader of the two. “Of course sir, I won’t say a word.” Y/N reassured. With a nod, the man grabbed his accomplice by the back of the vest and dragged him away to their horses. Soon enough, they were far away, and Y/N gave Arthur more space.
She was worried before because of obvious reasons. He’d almost been shot point blank, and that wasn’t great, but he seemed more uncomfortable than she’d expected. He’d had plenty of these situations happen before. She looked him over, his almost detached expression as he adjusted his hat.
“Arthur?” Her voice spooked him for a moment, but he seemed to click back into reality. “Huh?” He blinked. She clasped her hands together, nervously fidgeting with a small ring she wore, twisting it around her finger. “Are you alright? I’m sorry if I messed something up there, I just didn’t know how else to help without shootin’ them.” Arthur blinked slowly before shaking his head and rubbing his eyes with his hand, letting out a long breath. “No, no. You did great. Just uh, the whole…” He motioned vaguely to her stomach and then around at the air, somewhat aimlessly.
“Oh! Oh, right. I figured that would make them back off. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Y/N said. He’d started walking down the dirt path, she followed beside him. His mood had shifted rather dramatically. She’d seen him annoyed, stressed, downright angry. This wasn’t any of those, which was what made her so worried. He seemed borderline melancholy, and she didn’t know why, but to think she caused it made her a bit sick. “You’re alright. It’s just, an uh, sensitive subject I s’ppose.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck while looking at the ground.
That felt more confusing to her, honestly. But she kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t her place to ask, she felt. But Arthur glanced up at her, catching curiosity in her concerned face. There was a lump in his throat that almost seemed to suffocate him. There were very few things he opened up about to most people, especially when it came to things that weighed so heavily on him. He didn’t like bringing up his past, not to others and not to himself. His mind was a stubborn thing and it liked to stick on regrets to the point of making him physically ill. Arthur never handled emotions well, so he’d learned to avoid them for the most part. Not for his comfort, but for his survival.
But she looked so worried, and the air around her was so warm. Arthur looked at her face again and felt his shoulders loosen. He inhaled, holding his breath for a moment, before letting it out in one big huff. The silence stretched a bit longer as they slowly meandered down the dirt path, the air a bit tense. Before he finally unclenched his jaw and opened his mouth to speak, without planning what he’d say. And out it spilled.
“I had a son once.” Arthur said plainly. Y/N’s eyes widened and she almost let her mouth fall agape. She held back her surprise though, not wanting to be rude. She stepped a bit closer though, but kept her hands to herself. “I was young, so was the girl. A waitress I met in a town, lovely girl. I was…reckless, selfish. I knew I didn’t want to stay committed to her but I got’er pregnant.” He explained. He kept his gaze down, whether it was because he was ashamed at the past or that he was admitting sensitive things, she didn’t question. Just listened.
“I wanted to do right by’em. Or, maybe I told myself that to make myself feel less guilty.” He shrugged. “I didn’t stick around, but I didn’t completely leave either. I’d come around when I could to help. Felt it was the least I could do, support’em. I helped make the boy, ya know?” The question was rhetorical but she nodded to show she was listening. This felt so intense and heavy, and she had the distinct feeling the story wasn’t a happy one.
Arthur ran a hand down his face and looked up at the sky before continuing. “At one point, I considered sticking around a little more permanently. Not get hitched to her or nothin’, she deserved better than me, obviously. But Dutch wanted to move further West and I couldn’t take them with me.” He cracked his jaw, clenched his teeth. His nose scrunched up. “Go on, son. Pick what life you want. You can settle down, go soft, force yourself to be a father. Or, you can come with the family who accepted you. Be my guest. That’s what Dutch said to me.” He huffed.
“That’s a terrible thing to say in that situation!” Y/N suddenly spoke, outraged at the callousness. Arthur found himself smiling faintly at her rage. It felt cathartic to have someone on his side, even if it was far too late. “Yeah, never quite got over that. But…I was barely twenty, and, I didn’t know what to do. Dutch raised me and I wasn’t exactly sure how to be a good man.” He grew sad so quickly again. He hit his left palm with his right fist a few times, a nervous tick she’d noticed he had. He seemed to have a lot of them, actually.
“I left, for a long time this time. I didn’t forget ‘bout’em. Though, I remember telling myself they’d be better off without me anyway. To make it easier on myself, as if I deserved that.” He whispered the last part while looking down at his feet. Y/N’s hand reached over to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. They both came to a stop at a bench in front of the post office, the area barely populated and the sun on its way to set. She subtly guided him to sit down, still listening intently.
Arthur bounced his leg, leaning back to rest against the wall. He swallowed. “Well uh, I came back one day. The place was empty, but the backyard had uhm…two crosses.” His voice grew a bit hoarse. Y/N’s heart broke as she watched him force his face to stay as cold as possible, eyes facing the sky, as if trying to escape into it. “Oh Arthur…” She said in a hushed tone. He rolled the joint of his jaw again, biting his tongue. It weighed so heavily on him and it showed, that was precisely why he didn’t talk about it.
He looked over when he felt Y/N’s hand gently grab his forearm, caressing the skin with her thumb. Her gaze made his muscles loosen, and while the ache of guilt and regret was heavy on his chest, he found himself able to breathe still. It wasn’t suffocating.
“I couldn’t possibly understand what that’s like.” She let her hand fall back into her lap, not realizing how much he ached for the contact once it was gone. She looked around and searched her brain for what to say. It was something so heavy, so she wanted to treat it seriously. Though, she also knew a heavy atmosphere made Arthur itch to run away. He wasn’t a coward, but he wasn’t fond of the feeling. She patted her lap a bit awkwardly. “I mean, the closest thing I guess I could think of was realizing I lost my brother. But, he’s alive, not- I dunno, why am I even trying to relate? I just,” She awkwardly stammered. “I want you to know I hear you, so I’m trying to relate, but I- I can’t. And I shouldn’t be trying, I’m sorry.” She cringed.
Arthur let out a breathy laugh. “I get it. Thank you.” He reassured, watching her deflate in relief. She handled it clumsily, but the sentiment reached him all the same. She rubbed her hands together, still feeling timid about approaching the topic. She wanted to comfort him, ease the pain, but this kind of situation wasn’t something she could fix with a “good job” and a hug. The woman squeezed her hands together before looking him over, hoping her sympathy conveyed in her face. “I thought of something to say, but I don’t know if it’ll actually help as I intend for it too.” She admitted.
Arthur raised his hand in an encouraging motion. “No, go ‘head. I wanna hear what you have to say.” He nodded. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, inhaling slowly.
“I think…I think you would be a great father, all things considered.” She whispered. It was genuine, truly. She believed it fully too, and she could only pray it came across. Maybe back then he was young and reckless, but she could see how well he’d do now. From the way he handled the gang, how he talked to Jack like the boy was his own, a leader and while he could be stubborn and gruff, he had the softness important for child development. He felt like a family man, a good one. She’d told him that before, but she wanted to make sure it stuck.
Arthur rubbed his palms on the fabric of his pants as the words hit him in the chest. He clicked his tongue, allowing himself to smile slightly. “I ‘ppreciate that.” He replied softly. Y/N reached over and squeezed his arm again, smiling at him with so much kindness, it lessened the load of the world again. “I appreciate you trusted me enough to tell me, I don’t imagine it's easy to share.” Her words made him nod again. “It ain’t, and I usually don’t. But you…” He admired her face again. “You’re easy to talk to, I guess.” The woman lit up at that. She’d always enjoyed being told she was nice to be around, that her efforts to make those who cared comfortable to be vulnerable around her worked. It was rare she got an outright confirmation that it was working, it made her feel warm and fuzzy.
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual.” She chimed in, making him look up, brow raised and prompting her to elaborate. “I mean it! I know I might seem naive sometimes, but I’m quite the good judge of character. And you,” She nudged him with her arm playfully. “You’re a good man. I think I’ve explained why before.” He chuckled at that, feeling blood rush to his face as he recalled the night at the hotel. It was a completely innocent night, but a powerful one, which he’d found himself thinking back to it often. Though, saying he wished to feel her dainty hands running over his skin again didn’t sound like something a gentleman would say, even if it was true.
Arthur shook his head but he was smiling regardless. “I have a feeling you won’t let me argue.” He said, and she gave a confirmative hum. “I’ve met plenty of people in this world, and plenty that superficially act like you. But what makes you different is you feel, well, safe.” She explained. She’d felt awkward before, but saying this, she felt no shame. It was the truth and she wanted him to know it. She appreciated the shades of blue in his eyes in the warm sunlight as she spoke, truly adoring the little details she noticed. Every freckle and line in his skin. “Safe? Me?” Arthur challenged genially. “Yes sir, you. There aren’t many men in this world that have the feeling you do. Like…like walking into a blanket warmed by a fire, after a long walk in the cold.”
The outlaw scoffed and looked away, his elbow resting on his knee, hiding the lower half of his face in his hand. “I mean it!” She insisted, resting her hand on his shoulder. Had her hand drifted upward, just slightly, she’d be able to feel the speed of his pulse in his neck. Rapid and stuttered. Desperate to compose himself, he looked for a way to change the subject, lest he say something he’d regret or melt into the ground beneath him. “Well, I told you about me.” He sat up straight again, clearing his throat as he looked her in the eye again. “Care to share your own? You mentioned your brother. Wouldn’t mind lendin’ an ear, if you’re willin’ to share.” He said.
Y/N’s mood shifted a bit, and Arthur regretted his attempt at removing the attention from himself, until she prepared herself to speak. “It’s nothing like what you went through, he isn’t dead or anything, just…different.” She explained. Picking at her nails for a moment, she recalled her past. Her father was a mean man, that wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard. But he wasn’t the only member of her family, just the head of it. Her mother was sweet, though, the woman seemed to favor the baby boy she’d given birth to over her daughter. That was a fact Y/N sometimes recalled with bitterness but considered herself mostly healed from. Her cousin came to stay with them later on in life, he wasn’t great from the start, but she didn’t exactly consider him family regardless. Even if others around her went to calling him her brother pretty quickly. But her brother, that always stung a bit more.
“Walter, my younger brother, used to be the sweetest boy. After he was born, my mother got sick, so she couldn’t really care for either of us properly. My father was no good at it, speaking from experience, so I tried to step up.” Y/N explained, shifting her position on the bench for more comfort. “It wasn’t easy, but, after my mother got better I didn’t want to just leave him to the two of them. I liked caring for him, and even though he was a baby, it felt like he actually appreciated what I did.” She laughed at the sentiment. It sounded far more pathetic out loud, seeking validation from the innocent clinginess of a baby. “From the start, he wouldn’t let go of me. Swore up and down I was his favorite person, the best sister to ever live! I held onto that a lot. Especially when he started having a voice of his own, he used to defend me from my father a lot. I know that wasn’t easy. A young man trying to get his father to respect a lady, his rebellious daughter no less.”
Y/N paused as she recalled the various instances of this. How conflicted it’d make her feel, watching the boy she practically raised have to defend her to their actual parents. He did it so valiantly too, even when it caused more grief for himself. Things she wanted to keep him from. Being a punching bag didn’t bother her as much as seeing her brother’s young face contorted in distress and anger. However, being defended after so long felt nice too. It brought a sense of guilt with the comfort, to know someone cared enough to stand up for her against at the expense of themselves, but that last part was what made her sick.
She sighed. “Then, I guess as he got older, my father’s influence seemed more appealing. I mean, my father was a greedy man, but a successful one. Even if most of his earnings came from me.” Arthur watched as the air around her grew somber, and he felt a stabbing in his chest as her mouth formed a frown. For someone with a smile so sugary sweet, her frown put an acrid, bitter taste in the back of his mouth. “He started agreeing with my father more, pulling away from me. I practically raised the boy but as time went on, he seemed like a stranger. I held onto hope that maybe something would break, that he’d go back to how he was.” She shook her head. “Then one day, my father was goin’ on about how ungrateful I was. How I’d be sorry when he finally gave me away. My brother, fifteen then, came in after hearing the shouting.” She leaned back, staring into the ground with a solemn expression.
“For once, I looked and asked him to help. I had never done it before, but, I was so tired. I wanted someone in my corner and I thought, maybe if he saw how much it was hurting me, he would defend me again.” Y/N raised her hand to her hair, fussing with it a bit, something she did when she wanted to soothe herself. Arthur had seen her do it when arguments broke out between people in the gang or when Miss Grimshaw scolded her amongst all the girls for “lazing” about. “Then he said; “He’s right. And you should learn that by now.” And it hit me like a train, full force.” She let out a bitter, scoff-like laugh. It was devoid of any joy, and Arthur felt his heart break when she blinked back some water in her eyes. “He wasn’t the boy I raised. And I knew that the hope I’d ever see that little boy again was gone. Really sealed that when he did nothing but nod when my father told me he’d finally sold me off.”
Y/N shook out her hands and pressed her middle finger to the corners of her eyes, sniffling. “Sorry, I went and made this ‘bout me. I didn’t mean to be so selfish.” She apologized. Arthur shook his head and placed a large hand on her back. She exhaled at the light pressure and the pleasant warmth that bled through her clothes. “Don’t apologize. I asked, and it seemed like you’ve been hopin’ someone would listen.” He replied. She hummed, squeezing her hands together. He noted how much closer she was now, practically tucked into his side, and it gave him a sense of solace. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through.” She downplayed, and he let out a noise to cut her off. “That don’t mean nothin’. It’s still hard on you, clearly. Don’t go actin’ like my pain mean you can’t have your own.”
Y/N fought off the urge to swoon under his caring eyes. It didn’t work very well. “Right, thank you, Arthur.” Her voice brought back that warm feeling in his chest, like he’d taken a swig of whiskey. She huffed and patted her lap. “Alright, ya know what, this day has gone sideways.” She stood up suddenly, full of energy as she pivoted to face him, her face bright and cheery once again. The sky behind her had begun to turn pink, the yellows & oranges illuminated her like a halo. “But, we still got time. I say we go enjoy ourselves with the time. I hear the saloon’s got a new dish they’re tryin’ out, and I think you’ve more than earned a whiskey, good sir.” She held out her hand, the other behind her back, standing straight and proud.
Arthur found himself grinning. He reached his hand out, following her guidance to stand up, even if she couldn’t have pulled him if he didn’t allow it. “What happened to those errands?” He questioned teasingly. “We say we ran into some trouble and try again tomorrow, obviously.” Y/N pulled him along, wrapping both her hands around his own to encourage him faster. “C’mon! I’ll pay!” She cheered.