Work Text:
November 5th, 1899.
Arthur Morgan was never a religious man. He had never quite been one for church services, rosaries, confessionals, priests in big black cassocks or pastors at pulpits delivering fiery speeches from their pulpits. He had always maintained the view that God did not exist, for what kind of God would have made him an outlaw that was constantly on the run with no real idea of who he was or what he was meant to be beyond a silent workhorse that could get things done, with nobody beyond their victims knowing.
And yet, as he hobbled along the hills of Mount Hagen, his mind kept repeating a verse he had heard from some sister or another.
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
It did little to stop the bleeding from his side, or the shock that Micah was laying dead atop the mountain, with his knife still in his chest, buried a few inches too deep. And it did not bring back Lenny, or Javier, or any of the other people that had abandoned him across his endless years of running and hiding. But, it brought a sort of ethereal comfort to him, as if someone was patting his shoulder and saying "You'll be alright."
And so, he kept walking, even though it felt like the very hills that surrounded him were closing in on him and that every breath felt like he was fighting back the urge to just crumple to the ground, and lay there till something came to collect it's due. But, he fought back against those urges with some strength that he somehow had, even if it felt like all of his blood was currently being worn on his undershirt.
He walked for what seemed like miles, with not a person or animal in sight; only him, his spinning head and this oppressive darkness of the early morning. It all came together in some unholy concoction that made it feel like he was going insane. And his mind kept spinning, with random memories flashing infront of his eyes like painful paintings of a life that was once his own.
He then took another step forward before his foot rolled slightly on the uneven dirt path that he was currently walking on.
"Goddamn it!"
He reached down and ran his hand across his boot, feeling his foot throb slightly as he touched it. With each throb causing a loud wince to escape him, especially if he touched anywhere near the ankle. He grabbed his revolver from its holster, and checked the gun barrel, seeing that their were a few bullets left. He could just end it now. Just end all of this suffering now and he could be free of this dreaded life that he called his own.
He felt the coolness of the silver as the tip of the revolver rested against his cool forehead, with his thumb resting outside of the trigger. And with all of his might, he tried and tired and tried to get him thumb to the trigger, but, no, his body would not allow it. And now that he thought about it, this was not what he was meant to do. he had to keep pushing forward.
The sound of his revolver being set inside of it's holster filled him some kind fo hope a she hobbled forward while wincing every time he stepped on his left foot. But, every time he took a step, it hurt less and less. Matter of fact, everything hurt less now, though he wasn't sure if this was a good thing. But, that ethereal comfort and reassurance came back to him as he walked, while it reassured him that he was doing the right thing. That this choice would somehow lead him to a better place.
"Are you alright?"
He heard from behind him as he was hobbling. he then quickly turned around, wincing as he did so to face the person who had spoken to him. Though it was hard to make out from behind his bleary vision, he could see it was a young woman with two simple braids that hung by her head.
"Oh God. Sir, what happened?" The woman said as she walked toward him with seemingly no care about his disheveled and bloodied appearance.
'I got into a bit of a bad fight." He said, even if bad was an understatement. He then wiped away the tears from his eyes as he got to see the girl more clearly. He saw what could only be described as heavenly beauty with her braided, blonde hair and striking green eyes.
"I can see that rather well, mister?"
"Morgan."
She nodded as she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Well, Mister Morgan, How about I get that patched up for you. You can't be walking around like this."
He could do no more then helplessly nod as the girl lead him to a short stump that she then forced him to sit upon. He then watched in a daze as she knelt down beside him and peeled back his undershirt to fully view the wound on his side. He heard her small gasp as she looked at it with wide eyes.
"I'm sorry you have to see this." And he hardly blamed her as he knew it was a rather bloody and deep wound that was no doubt red and bleeding.
he was then surprised as she placed her hand on his cheek and made him look at her. "Don't be. if anything, be glad I got to see it as I can tell it's not that bad."
"How do you know?" He said weakly.
"My mother was was a nurse in the civil war. And from what she told me, this doesn't look too bad as it only hit one vein and not two. It just looks bad as veins tend to bleed a lot."
He right hand then went to her left shoulder before tearing off the sleeve of her dress. She then stood up slightly as she took the end of her sleeve and wrapped it around his body before tying it in the back.
And as she was tying the knot, he said "I'm mighty sorry about your sleeve."
'Don't be Mister Morgan. I have other dresses that I can wear. What matters to em right now is saving your life. Which means that you must stop talking since you need all the energy you can get. Now, I'm going to run down and fetch my parents and siblings and we can get you to safety. Are you alright with that?"
"Yea, I'm fine with that."
The girl then patted his shoulder before turning to march down the trail. and as she walked, he felt the need to say one last thing.
"Oh and miss?"
"Yes?" She said as she turned around, with a few strands of her hair flying about her head as they had escaped her tight braids.
"Thank you."
"No problem, Mister Morgan."
And with that, she began to run down the mount before turning to yell at her family. He then looked from that scene as he felt the first few beams of sunlight hit his face. He then smiled broadly as he looked to the sunrise that was forming infront of his own very eyes. A sunrise that meant more then just the start of a new day. It was the start of a new life, a life where he didn't run and hide.
A life where he didn't need to fear the shadow of death.
And that was perhaps the greatest miracle of them all.