Part 1:
"I'm afraid that in order to escape this loop, you will need to suffer more."
Hey! This is my first fanfic in a year and a half, and the first time I am writing these characters. So please be constructive in your criticism and tell me of I'm writing Arthur or anyone else as OOC.
I'm using Rdr2 characterisation for of them as I haven't played Rdr1. So I'm winging it in some aspects.
I also haven't finished Rdr2 because of irl busyness. Maybe I'll try snd doing it during xmas.
This fic is also Arthur/John/Abigail, among other minor pairings that will be revealed as the story moves forward. I tried writing this with Arthur/John, or Abigail/John, or even Abigail/Arthur out of desperation, and I couldn't make it work.
OT3 is best ship.
"The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself."
-Lord Byron.
The sun was cold. Too cold.
As it steadily rose in front of Arthur, its early rays hit him square in the face. He blinked back the light, struggling to breathe and stay alive.
It was beautiful. And peaceful. And the end. The last thing he'd ever see.
I hope John makes it...no, I know him. He will make it. For Abigail's and Jack's sakes. He hoped.
Micah was gone. Dutch was gone. Sadie was safe. Charles was safe. Tilly was safe. Abigail and Jack were both safe.
And most of all, he- John was safe and going meet up with his family. His true family.
Arthur was finally alone. Completely and utterly alone.
There was nothing left to worry about.
He was at peace.
Finally.
He relaxed against the rough ground, expelling a final breath as his body went limp.
He expected it to all end.
For his existence to cease. For his life to sputter out.
But it didn't.
Arthur's vision faded, and all sensation left him as an inky darkness abruptly overwhelmed him, trapping him somewhere.
A hellish void.
He was blind and deaf and mute in that place, but he was still alert enough enough to suffer it.
The nothingness. Bleak. Consuming. Never Ending.
He didn't know how long that cursed existence went on for. Only that it was either one long drawn out second, or years upon unfathomable years.
He wanted it to end.
Maybe it would never end.
Maybe this was hell.
Maybe this was his punishment.
For all the all the harm he'd wrought through wrongly following Dutch for so many years and giving into the myopic evil of his lifestyle.
It had cost him his family.
Sean, Kieran, Hosea, Lenny, Karen, and Susan; all of them had died unjustly. Heck, even Molly had as well. She hadn't done anything to deserve the death she'd gotten and hadn't even betrayed them in the end after all.
And then there were the others.
All the innocents or near-innocents he could've spared if he'd just taken a moment to think instead of blindly following Dutch at every opportunity, or in general with his numerous criminal pursuits. And the dozens and dozens of lawmen- who'd just been trying to do their jobs and defend their own from the gang; a bunch of rampaging outlaws from their perspective.
There was also Strauss's debtors. Such as poor Mr Downes whom he'd beaten into a pulp for almost nothing, among countless others. It was probably where he'd gotten his Tuberculosis from.
And then there was the Wapiti, whom Dutch had screwed over in his final scheme to get ahead. It had led to poor Eagle Flies dying, while sacrificing himself to save him, and Rains Fall losing his only remaining child.
The list went on and on. A never-ending stream of corpses that had simply gotten bigger and bigger, until he'd died and been rendered incapable of killing anyone else.
At least he'd saved John and his family...the one act that had redeemed him, in death.
It was a lifeline. A single thought-
So Arthur grabbed onto it. In that nothingness, it was a bright thing. Something rather than nothing.
Yes. He'd saved John-
But he was so very selfish.
He wanted- he wished that he could see him again. Even if it was only briefly.
Their relationship in life had been so messed up.
They'd been family once many years ago, raised and bound together by Dutch and Hosea.
The near decade between them hadn't mattered at all. He'd been the aloof and gruff...older one, while John had been the carefree and lighthearted younger one.
Over time their bond had lessened, declining until it was a shadow of its former self.
Arthur couldn't pinpoint exactly why. He guessed it was either their criminal lifestyle getting in the way, or the shittiness of their life in general.
No- he knew why. It'd been the deaths of Eliza and his son Isaac.
The event had traumatised him, making him more cynical and rougher and angry than he already was in the process. He'd been sent spiraling into a deep pit he couldn't escape from.
John had never found out. He hadn't understood Arthur's sudden change in behaviour and had thus treated him like crap over it.
They'd almost come to blows on more than one occasion after that.
Then Abigail had appeared, and John had become a father himself. Albeit a reluctant one. A very, very reluctant one.
It'd pissed Arthur off. That John could be so careless and uncaring, of the precious thing he had.
Something he had lost himself.
A child.
Then John had taken off for a year, and Arthur's hatred of him had only grown. Until he'd returned of course and exacerbated the issue.
It'd taken a lot of death and several close calls, for them to become remotely close on a brotherly level again.
John had finally chosen between the two loyalties he was stuck between and manned up, and Arthur himself had gotten his head out of his ass and realised what was truly important.
They'd wasted so much time bickering and arguing about petty things. Time that could've been spent getting to know each other better and forging a true relationship.
Yes. He missed John most of all.
And everyone else of course-
Suddenly, Arthur could feel something...rushing at him.
Like running water. Except it was faint, almost intangible. A concept of water, rather than something physically present…
Where did that come from-
Then it was on him.
The force of whatever it was sent him reeling backwards.
He was drowning in it, struggling feebly against the current.
Then he stopped and let it carry him.
Because he was sick and tired of suffering, of going on and on with no end in sight.
He wanted his existence to just end already. For his death to play out as it should've had.
Something whirred, like a machine-
Light blinded him, and he was wrenched back into existence.
Arthur came to himself and blinked blearily. It was cold again, although far colder than the dawning sun had been.
His eyes adjusted to the gloom and the world itself seemed to blink in an out of existence for a moment, everything flickering in place, making him wince. His imagination was just playing tricks on him-
Then a pair of large ears suddenly flickered in front of him and he almost dropped the lantern he distantly realised he was holding.
He was on a horse. A white one with black flecks that he could barely make out through the thick blizzard. It wasn't Arturo, whom he'd lost just before he'd died. He had been all black.
Arthur almost teared up, remembering the horrific way Arturo had perished. He'd been shot down by the Pinkerton's and Arthur hadn't been able to do anything to save him. Not that he could at that point. All he'd been able to give Arturo was a comforting pat and a fleeting goodbye before he'd been forced to flee with John to escape their encroaching foes.
God, he missed that horse.
Shaking his head, Arthur raised the lantern to look ahead and froze completely when he finally noticed what he was wearing thanks to it illuminating an all too familiar blue sleeve and pair of thick gloves.
His blue long coat.
It'd been eons since he'd last worn it. All the way back to before everything had gone to shit.
The coat had become buried at the bottom of his chest under everything else, forgotten and mislead, thrown there in a hurry when the gang had initially arrived at Horeshoe Overlook.
Arthur swallowed gingerly. He had to check something. Just had to. This couldn't be real.
Carefully moving the lamp to his right hand and holding it with the reins, he peeled off his left glove with his teeth, and used his now free left hand to feel his face.
Yes. He had at least a day or two of beard growth. He'd been clean shaven when he'd died. His preferred look.
So the blue coat, and the snow, and the slight beard, and the horse-
The goddamn horse.
He knew who it belonged to. He'd been lying to himself from the moment he'd seen it.
It was Taima. Charles's horse.
But Charles was long gone. He'd left to help the Wapiti.
So-
No. It couldn't be.
None of it made any sense.
Except it did.
What is this place? What's going on? Unless...this is hell. He thought, panicking slightly.
"Arthur!? What's going on son? Why are you ignoring me?" An impatient, but somewhat concerned voice called out. One that almost made Arthur fumble for his revolver.
Dropping the reins, Arthur hurriedly put his left glove back on, then picked them up again and steered Taima around to face who'd spoken.
He flinched when he saw who it was.
It was him.
Dutch.
He was driving a wagon and scowled at him lightly when he saw him staring.
Arthur swallowed and looked into the wagon behind Dutch, and his fears rose.
They were all there. All the tired faces he'd expected to see. The women...and little Jack.
His heart lurched.
He had to-
"Arthur! Davey is bleeding to death! Pull yourself together! We need to stop." Someone distantly yelled.
Arthur whipped his head aside to meet the eyes of the man who'd just spoken.
He hadn't noticed him because he'd been so intent on checking the wagon and had passed over him in his rush.
It was too dark and snowy. He couldn't quite make him out.
So, he blinked and narrowed his eyes, finally focusing enough to see who it was exactly.
Then he did a double take and quickly withdrew. His brain short circuited as he processed whom he'd just seen.
The person sitting next to Dutch-it was Hosea. He'd recognise that solemn face and those grey eyes anywhere.
Hosea was alive.
And so was Molly, he abruptly realised. He'd seen her anxious face in the group of women behind Dutch.
Does that mean that Lenny is alive too? And if he is, then is John here too? Arthur inwardly rambled, his heart beating faster and faster as he processed everything at once.
It was almost too much.
"Arthur! Son! Please kindly snap out of this- uncharacteristic grief or panic, or whatever it is you're going through. Remember! Every moment counts. Did you find anything? Anywhere we can take shelter?" Dutch's concerned reproach snapped him out of his state.
Arthur took a deep breath and did his best to calm down.
Considering everything he'd just seen, there was only one explanation for his situation.
He had somehow gone back in time. Back to the beginning of the final sorry months of his life, to just after the Blackwater heist. He could think about that later, but for now he had to play along until he could pull himself together.
And make a plan of some sort. He couldn't just kill Dutch right away- something strange was going on.
"Pardon me Dutch. Just- whatever. There's an abandoned mining town ahead. Plenty of space for everyone if we clear it up. No word from Micah or John yet." Arthur said hurriedly, trying to sound normal and struggling to remember the exact details of that night.
Everyone in the wagon visibly relaxed and Dutch nodded at him solemnly.
"Good. Please lead on. And don't fall apart on us." He stated.
"I won't. Just had an odd moment- like someone walked across my grave. Must be the cold." Arthur tried to assure him and deftly turned Taima back around.
He could see Colter in the distance. Just like that first time.
Steeling himself, he pushed Taima forward and led everyone to it. Just like that first time.
It all went as the same as before.
Davey was dead. The woman and Jack were shivering and tired. Charles and Lenny and Bill and Javier would soon arrive with the horses and supplies. Dutch dispatched Pearson and Susan to turn the town into "a camp", then he turned to Arthur with an expectant look and beckoned him to follow.
He nodded minutely and heeded his order.
Even if he hated Dutch- every fibre of his being and his deranged beliefs, he couldn't kill him just yet.
It was too soon. He needed to get adjusted before even contemplating doing anything so drastic.
To make sure this was all real, and not some weird dying dream he was going through.
And if he really was in the past, it meant that he would see John again. Not the one that he'd helped- the John he'd grown close too, but someone he could hopefully recapture that relationship with.
Then he realised something.
If John is here- then he's either bleeding out in the goddamn snow or is about to be attacked by fucking wolves. I can't leave him out there. But Dutch'll expect me to follow him now and meet up with Micah of all fucking people. I remember that he found a homestead full of O'Driscolls. It's where Sadie was...I'll have to rescue John tomorrow. Sadie takes priority now. I'll go as soon as I can tomorrow morning. He silently vowed, trying to juggle all the different events of that night.
There were just so many things to take into account-
"Coming, Arthur?" Dutch called out from atop The Count. His tone was harsh, but he had a concerned expression on.
"Arthur? I have Taima all ready for you." Charles quickly stepped in and held out her reigns to him.
Oh, right. Charles. Someone else Arthur hadn't expected to see again. One of the most decent people he'd ever known- knew, and one who'd saved his life multiple times.
He really...was going to see everyone together again. Back as one big family, and not the twisted broken mess it'd become in the end.
"Yeah. I'm coming. Thanks Charles. I was jus' thinking- about everything." He rambled in excuse and hurried through the snow and took Taima's reins and his lamp back. He didn't want Dutch to think that anything was wrong with him and get suspicious.
"Good. We need you to be strong Arthur. Everything is going to be okay. We just need to get everyone warm and safe." Charles assured him and clapped Taima's rump as Arthur and Dutch set off.
Dutch quickly flicked The Count into a canter and made for the western passage out of Coulter, Arthur did the same with Taima and followed closely.
She responded easily, but not as easily as she would've had if he'd been her master.
It made him miss Arturo all the more.
Riding on, Arthur did his best to respond cordially to Dutch as they began discussing the current situation and what they had to do to save everyone.
He had to suppress a bitter chuckle when Dutch expressed his sadness at losing Davey and enquired if he was all right as he seemed so "uncharacteristically out of it".
"I'm fine Dutch. Jus' Blackwater and losing so many people...and then this. I expected things to go different. That's all." He said, keeping up a falsely affable tone.
"Right. I understand Son. The ferry job was a real bust. At least you and Hosea hid our money and we got everyone out before those damn Pinkerton's could find us." Dutch replied, a fraught look on his face. One that seemed real on the surface, but Arthur knew the truth.
"You shot a girl, right? An innocent. I got that impression from the way some of the boys were talking about it as we rode." Arthur ventured brazenly, unable to help himself.
"I did. I didn't mean to- she just ran in the way. You're- why are you bringing this up now? And Arthur...why do you sound so accusatory?" Dutch said slowly. He sounded very hurt.
"It jus' doesn't seem like you. That whole job didn't. Even Hosea had reservations about it...I worry sometimes. You're like a father to me. I'm sorry for bringing it up so soon Dutch. You're right. This isn't the time for it. We need to band together and make sure everyone survives." Arthur said carefully, barely managing to utter the pack of lies without venturing into overt sarcasm.
There was a pause as Dutch turned away from him and seemed to mull over his words.
"Yeah. We should focus on the present. But- you worry me as well Arthur. You've seemed very strange this past hour. Very strange indeed. All woozy and the like. Do you want to go back and help Pearson and Miss Grimshaw set things up? We ain't so far away that it'll be an issue. You can send Javier or Bill if you're quick enough. I can find Mr Bell by myself." He offered gently.
Arthur had been so preoccupied with keeping his cool around Dutch, he had forgotten that they were riding out to meet him; Micah Bell, the traitorous snake who'd destroyed everything, his family and his life. Dutch had been bad enough on his own, he readily recognised that, but Micah was worse.
No fucking way am I letting Micah-fucking-Bell and Dutch be alone together now. Especially with Sadie being at the homestead ahead, trapped with the monsters who killed her husband. He thought, his expression darkening as he remembered the trauma that the O'Driscolls had inflicted upon Sadie, as well as the torture they'd put him through later.
"No. I'm fine Dutch. We need to get on with it and find Micah." He said sharply, allowing an undercurrent of hate to enter his voice. Dutch knew that he vehemently mistrusted and detested Micah at this point, so there was little point in concealing it.
"Arthur...Look, I know that you distrust Mr Bell and all, but can't you just give him a chance? He's been a great help to us these past few months. And he should able to assist us even more. He has various contacts and connections we can make us of." Dutch argued.
Arthur couldn't help himself. He scoffed loudly at Dutch's feeble reasoning and then laughed, emitting an almost harsh bark that echoed evenly around them.
Dutch sent him a fierce, but equally perplexed glare.
"You really believe that? Dutch, Micah is- well, he's scum. And that's putting it lightly. He's responsible for why the Blackwater heist went bad, ain't he?" Arthur stated, the accusation spilling from his mouth before he could stop it. He'd recalled something that Lenny or John or Bill had said about Micah "getting excited" before the heist, and that he'd been too gung-ho in pushing Dutch.
Dutch's eyes widened, and he just stared at Arthur for a few moments, struck speechless by his words, before his stunned expression morphed into one of sheer disbelief.
"Where did you get that ridiculous idea? Don't blame Mr Bell for Blackwater going sideways. It went bad for other reasons- ones that I cannot pinpoint right now. What is wrong with you? I have half a mind to send you back to camp anyway. Please don't- just don't, accuse Micah when we see him. I can't deal with your squabbling right now." Dutch mumbled, putting his back to Arthur and hunching in his saddle. He was the very picture of dejectedness.
"Fine Dutch. I'll hold back for tonight." Arthur called out.
Dutch merely nodded in response and they continued in uncomfortable silence.
Arthur cursed under his breath. Driving Dutch away so early was a bad idea. But he couldn't help it. His old anger had well and truly returned; the "giant inside of him" as Mary Linton had called it, in her final letter to him.
Despite himself, he did miss her. But he couldn't afford to think about that now. So he pushed it away.
Soon enough, they ran into Micah.
The bastard smiled his usual filthy smirk as he rode up to them, expression turning to leering derision when his eyes fell on Arthur.
It was just like the one he'd had when he'd beaten the shit out of him at their final confrontation. A feat Micah had only achieved because he had been too sick and weak from his late stage tuberculosis to really fight back.
Arthur's fingers twitched with the want to draw his revolver and shoot the bastard square in the face or drag him off his horse and pummel him to bloody hell with his bare fists.
He could've easily done the latter, overpowered Micah and everything as he was back to his proper strength, but he didn't.
Because of several reasons: one, he still didn't know if what he was experiencing was even real. It could be some dying delusion or dream for all he knew: Two, as angry as he was, he wasn't just going to blindly charge into a sensitive situation without thinking things over first. Not anymore. He'd learned that the hard way with all the times he'd messed up prior in his life. This fed into the final thing: if he had been sent back in time, he didn't know the how or why of it. It could either be an act of God or the devil or some other agent, or something far beyond even his meagre comprehension.
He'd never been a particularly religious man. Even when he'd been dying of tuberculosis, he hadn't given God much thought. Acting more out of his own will for redemption, than any consideration for a higher being. Despite talking to Reverend Swanson about his fears, before the pastor had left.
The harshness of the world, coupled with several traumatic events in his life, such as his sons death, had long ago killed any religious inclinations he'd possessed. Although this "second chance" was making him doubt that.
Maybe God is real after all? He thought absently as Micah and Dutch greeted one another.
But that question was for another time, so Arthur shoved aside his feelings for now and steeled himself for the coming hours. He was going to have to put up with Micah Bell without showing any untoward anger to him.
"Mr Bell." He greeted the grinning bastard curtly, as Micah turned to him after having told Dutch about the bright homestead he'd found ahead.
"Mr Morgan! Dutch was right. You do seem slow this evening. To be honest with you, I'm concerned. Are you sure you're well enough to come? It's quite a ways. And you might get in our way as well." Micah sneered, tone dripping with faux care.
"No, Micah. I'm quite well. Feel better than I have in a long time. I'll come along." Arthur said steadily, doing his best to not give in to his fury.
This snake wasn't worth it. It would be hard, but he could do it.
Micah narrowed his eyes at him for a split second, then seemingly relaxed into his casual smarminess. He hadn't expected Arthur to not rise up to his taunting insults.
"Micah, enough. And Arthur...I've already spoken to you. Let's get going. That homestead seems promising. We need supplies- food, blankets, whatever's useful. Every bit helps. Our family needs it." Dutch said and motioned for Micah to lead the way, sounding so sincere that Arthur was almost fooled for a moment.
Almost.
Then he remembered Dutch refusing to safeguard the women and children when they'd went on their last heist together, leading to Abigail being captured by the Pinkerton's when they'd attacked in their absence. It made his intense loathing for both of them return tenfold.
"Come on. Let's jus' get this over with." Arthur said lowly, almost snarling. The memory was too much. He couldn't bring himself to be polite to Micah or Dutch anymore. He didn't want to put up with them for a moment longer than he had to.
He spurred Taima ahead and pointedly ignored the twin expressions of disbelief his sudden exit created.
"Uhh Morgan. You don't know where-" Micah started.
"I can figure out where it is just fine. It ain't that hard." Arthur snapped at him. Although it'd been a long time since he'd last ridden the path to Sadie's homestead, he had a vague recollection of where it was.
Sure enough, something seemed to be guiding him the correct way. It was like an unconscious pull telling him where he needed to go.
Maybe it's intuition or something. I am doing this for the second time. Don't worry, I'm coming Sadie. I'll be there soon. He promised her silently and rode on.
Then Arthur realised it was quiet. Too quiet.
Glancing behind him, he realised that Micah and Dutch were riding very close to one another with their heads bowed. It didn't take much for him to put two and two together; they were whispering urgently about something. Probably him.
He couldn't let them do that. So, he cut in with a mundane enquiry.
"Sorry for interrupting your conversation, but I wanted to ask Micah something." He said loudly.
"Yes? You seem to know your way to the homestead just fine. So what do you need me for?" Micah said shrilly, annoyance clearly present in his tone.
Arthur had to bite down on his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. It was just too comical.
"It's just that- well, I was wondering if you could tell me about the layout of the place? And how many people you thought was there?." He said innocently, knowing fully well what useless questions they were.
Micah would've told them all the intel they'd needed when they'd arrived at the homestead anyway, but he just wanted to stop him and Dutch from talking.
"It looks like what every other fucking homestead looks like; a small house and a bunch of other buildings. As for how many people are there- how the fuck would I know? Why are you asking so many pointless things Morgan?" Micah snapped at him. He was radiating irritation.
Arthur couldn't really sense Dutch because he was further behind. But the man was uncharacteristically quiet, so chances were good that he felt the same as Micah.
"Oh, no reason. I just wanted to know in advance. It's easier to get ahead that way." Arthur said blithely.
"What." Micah muttered flatly.
"You two- just can it. Arthur, stop fooling around. Micah, there's no need to be so confrontational. Calm down. We don't know what we'll exactly find there, so we shouldn't make any plans until we scope the area out." Dutch finally lectured.
Arthur could sense an unspoken request underneath his words; he wanted Arthur to back down, so he could return to talking to Micah alone. But knowing his priorities, he solidly ignored it.
Maybe he could even use this opportunity to mess around with them both a bit more.
"I have a good idea of what we'll find there. I bet it's gonna be a gang of some sort. We'll probably have to fight them off." Arthur suggested breezily.
"Where did you get that idea?" Micah said and scoffed.
"Intuition. Something about the fact that a small homestead is having a party in a blizzard like this. Sounds like a bunch of men up to no good." Arthur explained, making sure his voice was bright and clear.
"That's bullshit Morgan. You're drawing conclusions out of nowhere." Micah said sourly.
"Boys, please! Stop squabbling. And Arthur- you have no way of knowing that. You've been wrong in the past. What is- I'm not going to start arguing with you myself. Just both of you- please stop." Dutch pleaded with them. He sounded very tired.
Arthur backed down, but he didn't stop talking completely.
"All right Dutch. I apologise. I'm tired as well. But we should still discuss things." Arthur suggested with fake gentleness.
"Like what, Arthur?" Dutch said slowly.
"Well, if they have a stable, I hope we can find me a horse. I don't wanna impose on Charles any longer than I have to. And I think that we'd better get on with it..." Arthur started.
He kept both Micah and Dutch preoccupied with useless chatter the rest of the way to Sadie's homestead, urging them to hurry when he could. He didn't want Sadie to suffer a moment longer than she already had.
They soon arrived at the well-lit homestead, and Micah shot Arthur a death glare as they dismounted while Dutch just gave him a generally disapproving look.
Arthur was completely unfazed. He even returned Micah's glare with a deft smile, a gesture that seemed to him piss off more than anything else.
"Right. Everything looks good. They should have plenty of supplies for us to commandeer." Dutch said and nodded at them both.
They trotted out into the area in front of the house and crouched out of sight.
"Do you want us to split up Dutch? To cover the place quicker." Arthur asked, knowing exactly what his plans were.
Now that they had finally arrived, it was all coming back to him. He wanted to get things done quickly so he could free and comfort Sadie.
"Yeah. Micah, go on the right and hide behind that cart, while you hunker down on the left and get behind that little out post. I'll walk up to the house and pretend to be a lost traveler or something and try to get the people inside to lower their guard. You and Micah heed my signal- I'll scratch my nose. You can attack then." Dutch instructed.
Arthur blinked. The cart...
"Wait! There's something on that cart. It looks like a body. Lemme make sure." He whispered hurriedly, narrowing his eyes to pretend he was trying to make something out in the darkness.
He then crouched lower and sprinted over to it.
"Arthur...what are you doing?" Dutch seethed at him for ignoring his orders, then was shocked into silence when Arthur pulled back the white cloth on the cart and exposed a bloodied and beaten corpse.
Arthurs stomach turned. He knew who it was: Sadie's husband, Jacob.
Poor woman. Poor man. He thought.
Micah whistled lowly.
"Nice catch cowboy." He said, sounding truly impressed.
"Well, good job Arthur. I trained you well it seems. Well this...complicates things. If they killed this poor man- he must've been the owner of the homestead, then they might've easily murdered me in cold blood." Dutch said.
"So, I was right. They is a bunch of no good lowlifes." Arthur stated.
"Lucky guess Morgan. We still need to come up with a plan on how to take them all down." Micah countered.
"No. We don't. I can still draw them out. You boys open fire on them after I've lowered their guard. Just wait until a good number of them have left the house. Shouldn't take a minute." Dutch suggested.
Arthur quickly agreed along with Micah, and unholstered his revolver as Dutch made his way to the front door and knocked.
Micah briefly stared at Arthur with an oddly veiled expression, then shook his head and looked away. Arthur didn't have the patience to ask him what was going on.
Things went much more quickly than they had the first time.
Dutch drew the O'Driscoll's out and lowered their guard with his "lost traveller" spiel, then he scratched his nose and stepped back, throwing himself behind the cart with Micah, before all three of them opened fire on the unsuspecting bandits.
Arthur had no real qualms in gunning them down. They'd killed Sadie's husband and done unspeakable things to her. That, and they needed the supplies the O'Driscolls were hoarding to ensure that everyone survived the cold of the mountain. He may have been sent back in time and given a chance to try to right things, but he still had to be practical about it.
It'd became a problem in the future, when Dutch would expect him to gladly kill lawmen and innocents alike under the excuse of it helping the gang somehow.
Arthur wasn't that man anymore. He had more of a conscious and wouldn't gun down people if it was uncalled for or unneeded.
Then the last gunshot rang out and the last bandit fell, and Arthur was suddenly faced with having to meet Sadie Adler again for the first time.
He followed Dutch and Micah into the house and was abruptly hit by hunger pangs so strong that he almost keeled over on the spot.
Dutch eyed him warily.
"Better find something to eat Arthur. Some biscuits or something. Check those cabinets by the table." He suggested.
Arthur nodded weakly and followed his instructions, finding and eating the first thing he found. Which was some canned peaches.
His vision clearing, he took a deep breath. He was obviously more worn out than he thought.
Who knew that dying and then coming back to life in the past could do such a number on you. He snarked to himself as he dropped the can on the floor and resumed looking for the basement hatch.
He soon spotted it. It was just under the stairs.
Sadie was down there. But he wanted Dutch and Micah to leave the house first. Especially the latter, as he didn't want him to harrass her or burn her house down yet again.
Clearing his throat, Arthur turned to the other two and got their attention with a wave.
"Is it okay if I continue looking around here while you two search outside? I'll get all the food together and look for some blankets and other things." He said.
"Uh, sure. If you really want to. I was going to ask you to check out the stables because you wanted to look for a horse. But if you want to get everything together here, it'd be helpful." Dutch said.
"I bet Morgan is going to use his amazing new powers of observation to find all sorts of crazy things. That, or he just wants to stay where it's warm. But sure, I'll check out the stables for a goddamn horse." Micah gave in and left.
Dutch nodded at Arthur and then followed Micah out.
A moment later an angry shout echoed around the vicinity as the man who'd ambushed Arthur the first time in the stables found Micah instead.
Dutch ran to help him.
Grinning widely for a moment, Arthur steeled himself and made his way to the hatch.
Unsure of what to so, he looked around and paused when he saw a photograph of Sadie and her husband at their wedding. It gave him an idea.
He went over to the hatch and knocked on it firmly.
"Is anyone down there? Miss? I uh- we found your husband and we've killed the men who killed him. We won't harm you. We ain't good men, but we ain't them." Arthur said, doing his best to sound assuring.
There was no reply, or any sound, from behind the hatch.
Arthur sighed.
Of course, she doesn't know me. Sadie wouldn't trust a random stranger. Especially after her ordeal. He thought.
"Miss, I'm going to open the hatch now. Please don't panic, or attack me." Arthur said.
Bracing himself, he grab the handle of the small door and yanked it up.
Sadie was right behind it.
She cowered in on herself and glared at him cautiously as the dim light lit up her face. Although her cheeks were marred with bruises and cuts, it didn't diminish her fierce gaze at all.
But she didn't attack him.
"Miss, I'm Arthur Morgan. As I said, the men who were holding you captive are all dead. I'm not gonna to hurt you- I'm with the Van der Linde gang, and I'm here with two others. I'll admit it- we did come here to loot this homestead, but we ain't like the men- they're called the O'Driscoll gang and we hate their black guts as well- and won't treat you wrong as they did. Now we got lost in this blizzard and made a camp at an old mining town less than an hour from here. The rest of our group is there, if you come with us, we can offer you shelter and treat your wounds. You can make your mind from there about what you want to do." Arthur said tersely, choosing his words carefully.
There was a pregnant pause.
"Fine. If you was gonna hurt me by now, you would've done so already. Not that I trust you or your gang of murderers." She finally said and climbed out of the basement, shivering as it was freezing.
Arthur moved aside and let her walk into the kitchen, where she retrieved a large shawl from a broken cabinet, sat down at the table, and pulled it tightly around herself.
"Lemme get the others." Arthur walked over to the doorway. "Hey Dutch! I found someone! We can help her." He yelled.
A moment later, Dutch came hurrying into the house and his eyes widened considerably when he saw Sadie.
"Hello Miss-". He started.
"Mrs. Adler." Sadie corrected him.
"Mrs Adler, I'm mighty sorry for all this. But we need supplies- blankets and the like. We have women and a child with us here, and we need to look after them properly." Dutch said gently.
"Go ahead. Take whatever you want. I'll come with you. It's better than being here with only a bunch of corpses for company." Sadie muttered emotionlessly and looked away.
"Thank you. Now Arthur, why don't you get the food and everything together here and I'll meet you out front in about fifteen minutes. I'll send Micah in to help you after a minute or two- he found a horse in the stables and got jumped by a remaining O'Driscoll- they must've got lost in the blizzard as well. He's getting it ready for you." Dutch said and left.
"Right Mrs Adler, you just sit tight here and I'll be back in jus' a second." Arthur assured Sadie and started moving around the kitchen to gather up food. She didn't meet his eyes.
There wasn't too much. Only a few cans and some oatcakes and other things. Long term food for mountain life. But it was enough for now. At least until he went hunting with Charles.
Then he turned his attention to finding blankets. After taking the one from the bed upstairs, he was surprised by a sharp yell from downstairs and ran down just in time to step between a leering Micah and a shaking Sadie. He inwardly thanked himself for arriving before Micah had had a chance to do some real damage.
"Micah! What the hell are you doing? Leave her alone. We have to get things together." Arthur barked at the other man.
Micah held up his arms defensively.
"No need to get so jumpy Morgan. I wasn't going to do anything to the poor widow. Just having a bit of fun." He countered.
"A bit of fun? Chasing a poor woman around like that- I'm not gonna push this now. But stop it and get on with it. I've gathered all the food together that I could find, and was trying to find some blankets. Why don't you go down into the cellar and I'll continue searching here?" Arthur ordered.
Micah scowled at him.
"How about you do that? And leave me alone with the lady? There's something up with you cowboy. And I don't like it." He growled.
A frustrated sigh from behind Arthur made them both jump. He turned to find Sadie looking at them with a face of pure thunder.
"Will both of you just shut it. You-" She pointed at Micah. "Quit whining and go to the cellar. There should be some more food there. Yer friend and I will get the blankets together."
Micah's expression darkened.
"Why you little-" He snarled.
"Go, Micah." Arthur demanded.
He glared at them both and then went down.
"Thank you Mrs Adler." Arthur said.
Sadie rolled her eyes.
"C'mon, If I was you I would've been outta here by now. Let's get on with it." She muttered.
With Sadie's help, everything went much quicker. Food, several blankets, and two cloaks were gathered together, assembled on the kitchen table, and then divided into four loads for the four horses they had.
Before they packed things up and headed out, Sadie grabbed her wedding photograph and stared at it solemnly. She was debating with herself over it.
"If you want, I can take that for you." Arthur offered.
"No. I'll hold onto it." Sadie answered thickly and tucked it under her shawl.
"We'll come back and bury your husband proper tomorrow. You have my word." Dutch assured her.
Sadie nodded weakly and left the house.
Following her outside, they carefully packed the horses and mounted up. Sadie got behind Dutch as he had the biggest horse and thus the most leftover space.
Arthur led his new (old, old) horse and tied it to Taima, before getting on her.
It was a horse that Arthur had never been particularly fond of, having sold it the first chance he could to the stables in Valentine, but he'd still been a good and loyal companion during the time they'd been together. So he scratched it behind the ears and patted it gently before setting off with the others.
The journey back was slow and silent. The snow seemed thicker than before and because they had some baggage and another passenger, the speed of their horses was halved.
Arthur also realised just how tired he was. It hit him in waves, and he had to shake himself every now and then to stop himself from falling asleep
Eventually, Coulter came into sight. Arthur had never been so thankful to see the little cluster of snowy buildings in his entire life.
After a few more minutes of riding, they finally rode in. Charles greeted them with most of the women and Pearson.
"Miss Grimshaw, this is Mrs Adler. We rescued her from some O'Driscolls who'd killed her husband, at a homestead not far from here. Take her in and get her warm and treat her wounds and such." Dutch said.
Miss Grimshaw nodded and helped Sadie get down from Dutch's horse, and handed her to Tilly and Karen, who bundled her in a blanket and took her into one of the small huts.
"Your bed is ready Mr Morgan. You're in the hut next to Mr Van Der Linde and Mr Matthews over there. Mr Bell you're with the rest of the boys in that building over there." She said and pointed where each one was.
Arthur nodded thankfully and got off his horse- he'd called it Jimmy or something last time, and tuned Micah's grumbling about his sleeping space out, and started stumbling towards where his bed was. He needed rest. Enough for two lifetimes he felt.
A hand on his shoulder stopped him.
He looked back and saw it was Dutch, who regarded him with a somewhat wary eye.
"Get plenty of sleep Arthur. I'll need you to do a lot for this gang in the next couple of days. Least of all find John and track down any O'Driscolls hiding out in this valley. And I hope that whatever you're going through is only due to tiredness or pressure...that you wake up more like yourself tomorrow. The Arthur I know." He said and smiled warmly.
Arthur returned the smile. It was a forced one, but he tried to not make it look a grimace.
"Don't worry Dutch. I will. And I'll find John myself. I've been too hard on him. I need to make peace with him." He assured him.
Dutch raised his eyes.
"You've forgiven John? That's great son! My boys'll become proper brothers again. You were so angry at him, it was worrying me." Dutch revealed.
"Uh huh. I was. But no more. It ain't worth it. Being so petty." Arthur mumbled.
"God, you're tired son. You go get some rest now. Don't worry about John. He's strong. You'll find him tomorrow and he'll be fine." Dutch said and chuckled and squeezed his shoulder gently.
You don't know the half of it Dutch. Just how strong John is. Arthur thought, and raised his head and looked his former father figure straight in the eye.
"Oh, I know it. And John is stronger than any of us. He'll definitely be fine." He stated, then he gently shook off Dutch's hand and headed to bed.
Dutch watched him go, an odd expression on his face.
Arthur shut the door of his little shack behind him and kicked off his shoes, then he fell into bed and was asleep within a minute.
He slept like the dead.
Howzat?
At the end of his life, Arthur Morgan feels at peace. He's helped John Marston escape with his family and closed the book on his part in the tragic tale of the Van Der Linde gang.
Then he wakes up at the beginning of it all, all over again. As if given a second chance to right the perceived wrongs and tragedies of the group.
But all is not as it seems.