Welcome lovelies, to my first Red Dead Redemption 2 story. Two days ago I finished the main storyline, and I am still gutted about the end. How amazing is it that we can completely ignore what happened in the end and use the magic of fanfiction to correct the mistake Rockstar made, right?
And now without further ado-let's do this.
The fields stretched for miles, only interrupted by a steep mountain cliff, casting its shadow on them this morning. Goats and sheep gently grazed in the breezy pastures. Passing around many of the fields ran a muddy road.
The road eventually reached a beautiful farmhouse. It showed signs of wear and tear here and there; but it was in otherwise great condition. A chicken coop stood next to the house, the birds rummaged all around the courtyard, unaware of the things to come. Several grape vines climbed their way up and over the open gazebo to the side of the courtyard.
The farm had a mellow feel to it, which was helped by the gentle breeze carrying the scent of ripe fruits across the fields. This morning though it also carried the heavy scent of fear and death. A gunshot cut through the silence on this fine morning, followed by an earth-shattering scream. The chickens scattered away, the sheep and goats bleated nervously.
The door burst open and out stumbled a young woman. What was once a shirt was now nothing more than pieces of fabric held barely together; it hung from her shoulders like a discarded old towel. A huge hole in one of the shoulders which reached almost all the way down, leaving much of her exposed. Her pants were in terrible shape as well. The left side was torn up and nothing more than a bunch of shreds. Blood clung to her shirt, pants and face. The shoes she was wearing left a line of blood with each stumbling step she made.
Every movement sent waves of throbbing pain through her chest and back. It was exhausting, and she felt sick, but there seemed to be nothing she could do about it. She only had one thing on her mind. She had to get away. Away from her home. From the house where the bastards had dared to enter earlier this morning, pretending to have a civil business talk with her father. Now her father was lying on the hardwood floors with a hole in his forehead, half of his brain splattered against the cream-colored dining room wall.
She grunted, determined to block out the pain. Her head felt heavy and she could feel dizziness starting to kick in. Surely this pain would stop soon. Surely there would be an end to this. The man had laughed, hissed dirty comments at her while he had pushed her against the kitchen table, ripping her clothes, trying to take her dignity. As she had felt her pants rip, she had seen the glinting knife beside her head. That was the only opportunity she had. One chance to escape. She had waited for her attacker to nestle at his own pants, the other three men too busy ransacking the house. With a swift move she had grabbed the knife. She had seen the quick moment of surprise in the man's eyes right before she rammed it into his neck. Blood gushed out, splattered over her as he dropped down on top of her, wheezing and gurgling til his body went limp. She had mustered all her strength and pushed him off her, rolled from the table and just hurried outside in hopes of having at least a bit of a head start before his companions would notice what had happened in the kitchen.
She cast a glance over her shoulder as she suddenly heard the commotion in the house. They had found their dead friend. It would only be a matter of seconds til they would burst outside, chase her, drag her back inside and finish the things their friend had started. Her entire body was trembling now. Weak and exhausted it cost her all her remaining strength to keep running. There was no way she could give in to the pain, to the fear, there was no way she'd ever give up.
She pressed forward, every movement adding to the barrage of pain, but she kept going even as she heard the men's voices shouting as they had left the farmhouse. Finally, she had reached the stable. She stumbled inside and hurried to the box where her horse, Dancer, nervously pawed the ground as she mounted him. A groan escaped her as another sharp pain ripped through her leg now.
"There she is!"
She looked over and saw the men standing in front of the stable, one of them raising a shotgun at her.
"Go, Dancer! Go, boy!" She spurred the black stallion and with a loud whicker the horse surged forward fast and swift. The man with the gun was taken by surprise, he tried to get out of the way, a gunshot ripped through the stable and with a loud cry she clung to Dancer's reigns as he carried her away from the farm. Away from home. And into the wild.
From outside the saloon looked rough, broken and dull. Large and small stones and hardwood beams made up most of the building's structure. It was nearly impossible to see through the large, curtained windows, but the gloominess from within could be felt outside.
As Arthur entered the saloon through the old, wooden door, he was welcomed by the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, dirt and dust from all places. The bartender was trying to catch a spider and made no effort to acknowledge his presence.
Arthur cleared his throat, knocking against the wooden bar. "Hey, partner, one whiskey." He said.
The bartender looked up startled, an apologetic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sorry, didn't see you, Sir." He said and grabbed the bottle of golden liquid, pouring a shot glass for him. Arthur knocked it back and bumped the glass gently on the counter again. He turned, leaning with his back against it, casting a glance among the taproom. It was as dreary inside as it was on the outside. Several walls supported the upper floor. The walls were decorated, if one could call it that, with old paintings covered in dust.
The saloon itself was almost completely abandoned. The few people inside appeared to be quite ominious and suspicious in his eyes. Whoever they were he wanted to stay as far away from them as possible. Arthur signaled the bartender to pour one more shot. He had heard rumours about this saloon, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what for. Though judging by the dirt, it probably was food poisoning, he thought as he felt a rumble in his stomach. He hadn't eaten all day yet but decided against trying his luck in this place. He'd go check out the convenience store instead. He downed his drink and paid the bartender, then pushed away from the counter. The floorboards creaked under his heavy footsteps as he made his way over to the exit again.
"Have you heard what happened down at the Grapevine Farm yesterday?" An older man by the table near the door said in hushed tone to his friend sitting across of him at the table, both nursing at their beer.
Arthur lingered by the window next to the door, curiously trying to catch the rest of their conversation. He knew the Grapevine Farm, about a two-hour ride away from Valentine, right in the middle of the Heartland. If he remembered correctly it was the farm Dutch once bought his horse, The Count, from a couple years ago. Russel Cohen was the name of the farm owner. They produced quite some fine wine too. Arthur himself had never been there and he didn't know much about the Cohen family. Only that they were one of the wealthier farm owners in the Heartland.
"No, what happened?" The other man by the table now asked curiously.
"Heard the sheriff talking this morning. Word is they found Russel Cohen dead in his dining room. Shot in the forehead from short distance. Ransacked the house and burned the stable down."
The man sighed and sipped from his beer. "What about his daughter?"
He shrugged. "No trace of her. There was a dead body beside Russel's. Rumor have it that she killed one of the attackers and escaped. One horse was missing from the stables apparently."
Arthur had heard enough. He left the saloon and stepped outside onto the street. He whistled and just a second later his brown and white spotted horse, Bounty, trotted over. She nudged his hand.
"Yeah, good girl." He reached into his pocket and offered her an apple. She munched it, while he mounted her. "Let's go home, girl." He spurred the horse and galloped out of town, heading for the Horseshoe Overlook Camp.
The sun was already setting by the time he passed Caliban's Seat. He slowed down a bit. Riding past the rock formation. His gaze drifted to the west, where the orange sun was setting over the grassy plains. A wistful smile curled his lips. He would never get tired of the sight of the sunset. Suddenly, Bounty began to whinny, shifting nervously.
"Hooo, girl, what's wrong? What spooked you?" He patted the horse's neck gently. That was when he heard it too. A soft whimper not far from him. He cast a glance around, wondering where it came from when he spotted a big, dark lump about a hundred feet to the east. He turned Bounty and warily approached the shape. The closer he came the more he could make out and he saw it was a horse, lying in the grass. It was still breathing, looked unscathed. Yet, he spotted some blood in the grass as he dismounted Bounty, his boots heavily connecting with the ground. His belt holster clinging softly with each step.
"Hello?" He said and heard shuffling next to the horse. As he surrounded it, he saw a figure lying beside the animal. The black stallion's nose softly nudging the young woman's face. Arthur stepped closer and crouched down beside her. "Miss? What happened?"
She looked up, her head felt eerily light, everything seemed to spin around her in a blur of motion. Soft moans and grunts escaped her mouth. She longed for a bed, a hot bath and a fluffy pillow to lie on, but right now all she could do was lie in the grass beside her horse, looking into the face of a stranger. She blinked slowly, trying to get rid of the blur.
"D-dead…he's dead…" She sobbed and tried to sit up, but the stranger gently pressed her down again. Even though he did not put any force into that motion it brought the memory back from the moment in the kitchen. She growled at him and lashed out.
"Easy there, miss. I'm just tryin' to help you, is all. Here, drink this," He offered her a flask. She shook her head lightly, but he smiled encouragingly. "It's water, don't worry." He lifted her head a little and placed the flask against her lips. She drank eagerly as if she hadn't drunk in days. With a sigh she leaned back down and felt her vision clear up a bit slowly.
"I can't just leave you here." He said. "My camp is not far from here. An hour ride. There's a doctor, he will check on you." He reached out and lifted her up onto his arms carefully. She groaned again, and he could see that her leg was badly injured. He placed her onto the back of Bounty. "Hold on." He made sure she clung to the horse's neck, then went back to check on her stallion.
"Come on boy, let's get outta here." He reached for the reigns and the horse slowly got up. He eyed Arthur uncertainly, yet let him lead him over to the other horse where his owner was leaning against the neck of the animal. Arthur mounted behind her, then tied the reigns of the stallion to Bounty's saddle, placed his arms around the girl and took the reigns in his gloved hands, gently spurring Bounty.
Slowly the horses trotted further on towards Horseshoe Overlook. Silence had lapsed, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of the hooves on the grassy ground. After a while he felt her stir against him.
"Who…" She coughed. "Who are you?"
"Name's Arthur Morgan." He replied shortly, making sure to keep her securely on top of the horse. "And who are you?" He finally asked as Bounty turned to the path that would lead them to the camp in the next five minutes.
She sniffled quietly, and Arthur felt his heart drop a little as she spoke again.
"Nancy. I'm Nancy Cohen."
Thanks for reading this first chapter! If you like the story (it's gonna be multi-chaptered, of course) please don't hesitate to leave likes, follow and write some comments. I am thirsty for actually reading what you think.
PS: I don't follow a certain updating plan. I can't and won't promise you to update every few days or once a week. Even though I will try to do that but I also have a life outside of writing so please bear with me.