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Late evening at Beecher's Hope...
The sun had long since dipped behind the hills, casting a navy blue twilight across the ranch. Inside the Marston’s living room, warm lamplight flickered while the adults gathered—bellies full from supper, drinks in hand, laughter echoing like a song only they knew.
Charles sat in the corner with a harmonica, playing an old Wapiti tune he learned from Eagle Flies. The sound was cheerful and melancholic at the same time, and somehow made everything feel like home. Uncle, already three bottles deep and leaning heavily on the arm of the sofa, suddenly bellowed...
“Now lemme sing y’all a song about a fella we all know…”
“Oh Lord…” Sadie groaned, laughing as she leaned into Abigail’s side on the couch. Arthur—seated right in the middle of the room on a rug by the hearth—just raised his drink and smirked like he was bracing himself.
🎵 “There once was a man, with a real gruff face,
Who never smiled 'til he left that place.
Shot up some O'Driscolls, rode through a storm,
Now he’s cuddlin’ babies, safe and warm!” 🎵
Everyone burst into laughter.
Even Arthur couldn’t help it. He chuckled through gritted teeth, rubbing the back of his neck. His face turned red, but his smile was wide and genuine—the kind of smile no one used to see on him back in the old days. Now? It looked natural. Easy. Like the world had finally loosened its grip on his soul.
John elbowed Abigail gently and whispered, “Look at ‘im. Man used to scowl more than he talked. Now he looks like he’s gonna start singin' campfire songs.”
Abigail laughed and leaned against him. “He looks happy,” she said. “It's amazing seein' him like this.”
Sadie couldn’t take her eyes off her husband. He looked so relaxed, sitting cross-legged by the fire, eyes half-lidded from the drink, but glowing with quiet contentment. That smile—that big, boyish grin—made her chest ache with love.
She fell for that man during a war. But she stayed for him during peace. And now… peace looked real good on him.
Then a small, sleepy voice broke through the room.
“...Dada?”
Everyone paused. Heads turned toward the hallway where tiny Maisie stood in her little nightdress, rubbing her eyes and clutching a blanket she most definitely dragged from the bed. Her curls were tousled, her cheeks pink from sleep.
Arthur instantly softened.
“Hey there, baby girl,” he said in that low, syrupy tone only Maisie ever heard. He set down his glass, got up off the floor, and crossed the room to scoop her up into his arms. She snuggled into his chest without hesitation.
Sadie stood and joined them, wrapping one arm around Arthur and kissing Maisie’s cheek twice, then her husband's shoulder.
Abigail’s hand clutched her chest. John muttered a warm “damn…” under his breath. Even Uncle stopped hollering and started wiping his tears and sniffling.
“I’ll say it,” Charles added with a grin. “That man was meant for this life.”
And everyone nodded.
Because it was true.
Arthur Morgan had finally found his peace. And it suited him better than any gun ever did.
The fire had long since died down to glowing coals. Outside, the crickets sang their lullaby while the moon watched silently overhead.
Inside the Beecher’s Hope little guesthouse, everything was quiet... except for the gentle sounds of family settling in for the night.
In the soft glow of their oil lamp, Arthur stood by the bed in his favorite blue sleep pants, rocking little Maisie gently in his arms. She was halfway asleep, her tiny hand clutching at the hairs on his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.
Sadie was already tucked under the quilts in her nightgown, leaning against the pillows and smiling sleepily.
“You’re good at that,” she murmured, watching him sway back and forth.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder and smirked, keeping his voice low. “Well... I’ve had practice.”
He hummed just then, a soft and gentler rendition of Rye Whiskey—Maisie’s favorite. And like magic, her eyes fluttered closed for good.
He climbed into bed beside Sadie with ease, holding their sleeping daughter against his chest. Sadie leaned over and carefully shifted Maisie into the middle of the bed, between them.
Maisie immediately curled up like a little cinnamon roll, one hand still resting against Arthur’s arm, the other clutching a lock of Sadie’s hair. A perfect little bridge between her parents.
Sadie whispered, “Look at her... sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“She gets that from you," said Arthur.
“You flatterin’ me to get lucky, Mr. Morgan?”
“Always.”
They both leaned down at the same time and planted soft kisses on their daughter’s cheeks, followed by a kiss to each other’s lips. Their little giggles mingled like two kids in love who couldn’t believe how lucky they’d gotten.
A few minutes passed in peaceful silence.
Then Arthur, eyes still closed, shifted ever so slightly.
Sadie jolted as she felt something. His hand… was on her hip.
At first, she let it slide. But then it moved lower. Across the curve of her backside. Then back up. Then—squeeze.
Sadie gasped under her breath and shot him a look. Oh no he did not! Damn bastard squeezed my ass!
“Arthur. There’s a baby between us," she chastised.
Without opening his eyes, he replied smoothly, “I can move her.”
She flicked him square on the forehead.
“Ow,” he muttered, rubbing it and finally opening one eye. “Damn, woman.”
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Sadie grumbled through a stifled laugh. “You wanna risk knockin’ me up again with her still nappin’ on our chests?”
Arthur grinned lazily, clearly unrepentant. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Sadie narrowed her eyes and shook her head, but couldn’t hide her smile.
She leaned in and kissed his temple, whispering, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He hummed, eyes drifting shut again.
Maisie sighed in her sleep, still clinging to both of them, blissfully unaware her father had once again been caught trying to break the no-hanky-panky-while-the-baby-is-between-us rule.
Next day. Sunrise...
The air was still crisp, with the dew not yet burned off. Birds were chirping, cows lowing in the distance, and the whole ranch was still half asleep—except for Sadie.
She stood on the porch of the guesthouse, mug of steaming coffee in her hand, wearing one of Arthur’s everyday shirts buttoned just enough to be legal and her hair all tousled from sleep. Her eyes scanned the horizon, peaceful for once.
Until two massive, sleep-warm arms suddenly wrapped tight around her middle from behind.
Sadie grunted in surprise, but didn’t spill her coffee—muscle memory, by now.
“Mornin’, sweetheart." Arthur buried his face into the crook of her neck, bare chest and scruffy stubble rubbing against her skin.
“You tryin’ to make me fall over, cowboy?”
“Just showin' my wife some love,” he mumbled against her skin, already peppering kisses along her neck.
Sadie took a slow sip of her coffee, then squirmed when she felt something hard press against her backside.
“You’re pokin’ me,” she muttered, but she smiled regardless.
Arthur smirked, rocking into her just enough to really make his point. “Ain’t my fault you look like a whole damn beautiful first thing in the mornin’.”
Sadie scoffed, fighting a laugh from escaping. “You’re insatiable.”
“And yet you married me.”
His hands started wandering. One slid up her torso, fingers teasing the loose buttons of his shirt on her body. The other hand dared to slip just under the hem, grazing her bare thigh.
“Arthur Morgan—”
“Shhh,” he purred, nuzzling her. “We’re alone. Lemme kiss on my wife in peace.”
Right as he cupped her breast and gave her neck one slow, lingering kiss...
“Lord have mercy, can y’all go one morning without gettin’ indecent out in the open?!”
They both jumped as Abigail Marston appeared at the top of the path, arms crossed, eyebrows high, and clearly amused.
Sadie nearly dropped her mug.
“Abigail!” she choked out, laughing nervously. “Erm... err... were just—”
Abigail raised a hand, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “Don’t wanna hear it. Already caught y’all lockin' lips behind the barn last night.”
“That was two nights ago,” Arthur corrected automatically, not even letting go of Sadie.
Abigail sighed dramatically and turned around, waving over her shoulder.
“I'm running to the general store with Jack. Y’all better behave before you traumatize that baby of yours.”
Once she was gone, Sadie turned around in Arthur’s arms, face flushed and grinning when she slapped his chest.
“You got us caught!”
Arthur shrugged, unbothered. “Ain't doin’ anything illegal.”
“Yet.”
They both burst out laughing.
Arthur leaned in and kissed her, slow and sweet.
“Still say you’re the best view on this whole damn ranch,” he murmured against her lips.
Sadie smirked. “Come back inside, Morgan. I’ll give you somethin’ worth pokin’ about.”
And just like that, the porch was abandoned—coffee forgotten, breakfast delayed, and another round of raunchy married shenanigans in full swing.