A story that will follow the Red Dead Redemption 2 timeline of game events. My OC included. Hope you enjoy, and please review - it would be lovely to see the interest in this story and any options the readers have.
Enjoy, Brandey XX
Fortunes of the American Frontier
The prairie, the wayward wind, the long line of the horizon, smudged when the dust begins to rise. A promise of a new world full of possibilities. This is America in 1899. Many found their fortunes in the land of opportunity.
As time went on, the world began to change. Divides over land began to move onto previously untamed territory. More laws have been implied in the land that was previously lawless. The line between good and bad was becoming blurred – a fight for survival commenced. All was starting to unravel under the pressure of the encroaching modern world
The few that lived life by their own rules were forced into the nomadic lifestyle. The outlaws that made the wild west so unruly were being hunted and killed. If that West was won or lost, it has to be decided individually. But the story that is about to unfold is one of the last few gangs that roamed the land.
A man that went by the name Dutch Van der Linde leads a gang across the country in search of a better future and the promise of free land. A particularly charismatic and anarchistic leader. He sees himself as not a criminal, but a man fighting against the corrupt system. Over the years he took orphans and street kids under his wings, taught them how to read and instilled self-worth and ideas into each one of their hopeful minds – all framed with his own ideologies.
The story of the outlaws so far is a misfortune one so far. After a failed robbery, Dutch's gang fled from blackwater into the Grizzly Mountains, where a late spring storm left them half frozen and starving. Holed up in an abandoned mining town, they licked their wounds before finally catching a break. After stealing documents from the rival O'Driscoll gang, Dutch's boys were able to rob a train and seize bonds from a powerful local figure – a railway magnet called Leviticus Cornwall. Seizing the opportunity of a lull in the storm, the gang decided to move east to a new camp location: Horseshoe overlook.
They say the spirit of the Wild West is the mustang, and the stories are told from the saddle of the horse. Most of Arthur Morgan's life could be traced back to the saddle.
He smoothed the silk of the horse's coat with his fingertips – the last living embodiment of the land he so long yearned to see once more. A wild mustang, chestnut coat with jet black mane and tail. A truly untamed force of nature and a true riding partner. He named him King. That's what he believed the mustang was - majesty above all horses.
Arthur eyed the new campsite and all the people in it. Everyone worked together to make the most out of their new settlement. Tents and wagons were being unloaded. The women worked hard to make the camp home. The man planned their next move of action into the nearby town to provide the funds. He too would sure plan his own mode of action to acquire money. Hunting was also his responsibility as it put food on the tables for everyone.
It was a pretty enough land that they settled in. Horseshoe overlook is exactly what it sounds like. A place with a view that looks over the sprawling mountains. So long that the view was pretty, and the money would run high, maybe they still had a chance to reach that dream of theirs. He hoped.
They had previously made a nice settlement for themselves back in Blackwater. They lived well, almost like most decent folks and Arthur grew accustomed to a comfortable bed and a warm bath each night. That was all gone now. They were back to being nomads. All because of one wrong move into a messy job. A heist on a ferry that turned ugly very quick.
He himself was not involved in the job, and he knew little of what went down on that boat. Still, he well knew that it was a bad idea from the getgo.
Arthur shook his head in disbelief.
He did not like to reminisce about this, it was still fresh in his mind with more questions than answers.
All was left now was to not overthink the past but move on and secure a new future for himself and his companions.
It takes will power, stubborn determination, thousands of back-breaking hours to survive on the road all these years. And that's what Arthur's spirit was - unbroke after the many times of hardship.
He sighed loudly and patted the horse once more. It was time to do his part in the camp. He was the working horse under Dutch's command – but not to say that he was not keen on such work. He felt a tremendous responsibility to the gang. Each person relied on his input while he feels pride in getting the job done.
Arthur was growing into middle age now. And although he did not consider himself a smart man - he was observant and very much aware of the pressure the government and authorities were pushing on folks that lived as they did.
There was no turning back now.
The life of an outlaw is all he has ever known.
A young woman stared out the window of the train heading through the heartlands. Her arms folded, chin resting atop, while her weary, green eyes took in the passing scenery. The long journey was nearing an end.
A herd of horses galloped across the open plains. Her gaze followed, awing at their grace and the majesty of the freedom they represented.
Feeling inspired, she opened her bag to pull out a journal, fancy grey leather covered the book, engraved intricately with her initials. 'A.L.' for Amelia Linton. It was an early birthday present from her momma. She traced the cover with her fingertips and opened a fresh page. The first page of a new journal, a fresh start to her ongoing story. She placed pen to paper. It read:
"It feels like the winter of my life in the middle of a scorching summer of 1899. I'm once more on the road. My mother was determined to head down south to move us in with my grandfather. She had the bright idea of starting a new life there – reconnecting the family. I"m already dreading this, but I'm still being dragged along.
I was born in a place that was known as the wild west – but the road raised me. My travels have taken me throughout the endless country road and far away from my origins, and my home. I have little recollection of the land; besides the stories that my mother tells me. She also tells me many folks travel to find better homes these days - and being grateful for a new day should be something I feel more often.
I do not.
I feel like a lost child on the brink of adulthood, just shy of eighteen years old. Things should be easy now that I'm grown up, becoming a young woman. They should make sense.
Instead, I think I've become sadder and angrier as each mile is left behind. More lost than before.
Here is one of the most enduring tales, of the pioneers and the rebels that go forth with no fear to chase the call of the horizon – just like those horses they search for freedom.
Horses can endure endless journeys, but they always find their way back home.
I hope that will be true for me too. Wherever the road may take me, I just hope I have to find some peace at the end of it."
Amelia closed her journal, placing it back into her bag.
"Next stop, Valentine!" The train conductor shouted loudly as he made his way down the train aisle. "Valentine, ladies and gentleman!"
Mary placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, "'Melia, we're nearing our stop, help me with the luggage." She instructed.
Amelia grabbed both hers and her mother's luggage. Mary tried to grab her bag from Amelia, but her daughter just shook her head and smiled - she was happy to assist her mother. They left the train onto the station's wooden platform.
Mary placed a hand over her forehead, shadowing the sun away. She scouted the station looking for her brother Jamie who was scheduled to meet them.
Amelia, on the other hand, looked around the new and unfamiliar surroundings. She traced the bustling town with her eyes, looking at the rugged ground - muddy and stomped by animals and by people. She moved her gaze onto the snow-capped mountains. Nature's sight to behold. Right above, the clouds soared lazily through the sky. Valentine is a small livestock town that nestled near a massive mountain bank. The air was crisp and cool while the sun provided the warmth - a summer day so fine.
"Mary, Amelia!" Jamie called out from the other side of the platform.
"Jamie!" Mary exclaimed with a tone of excitement. She nudged Amelia to follow her.
The brother and sister reunited in an embrace.
Amelia kept a distance. She barely recognized Jamie. It had been five years that she last saw her Uncle. It was an unfortunate event that brought him to visit all that time ago. At her father's funeral, Jamie supported their family through the hardship.
"Look at you Amelia, you're all grown up. Turned into a fine young woman," Jamie pointed out. "I recall you dressed in boy's clothing, causing mischieve wherever you went," He chuckled, and looked at his sister. "Mary couldn't keep up with you."
"That ain't much different now," Mary added, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Only now I've managed to convince her to finally wear proper dresses."
Amelia blushed at the unwanted attention to her characteristics and wardrobe.
The three of them stood for a second - waiting for a proper greeting from Amelia that didn't happen. It was awkward for Amelia and Jamie took notice. He changed the subject and moved the woman along in the direction of their new house.
Through town and up to a place by the name of Chadwick Farm.
