Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dead Redemption

The grass was soft against her hands. Tiny specks of flies danced against the sun, which was spreading its last rays of the day across the fields; a covering them in a soft blanket of light.

Grace was on her back. They had spent the day moving the cattle to another pasture and she was completely worn out. Cows weren't always the friendliest type of animal. Over the years, she had come to learn that the hard way.

Sometimes it felt as though she had the world on her back. She prided herself in her strength, always being able to withstand most of life's hardships. She wasn't born that way, no one was. It was who she had become through nothing but hard work. But sometimes... sometimes she just needed a break. Even though she couldn't afford anything other than a nap in the field.

She heard the horse before she saw it, even without any wind to carry the sound. A familiar figure stepped down from the saddle and walked over to her.

''Mr. Callahan,'' she said, caught by surprise.

''I, er,'' he cleared his throat. ''One of the hands said you'd be out here.''

Grace stood up, pulling a leaf from her hair. ''They busy with poker?''

''The dark-haired one was showing off his finger fillet skills last I saw,'' Mr. Callahan smirked.

''God help me,'' Grace shook her head. ''If he loses a finger...''

''Actually, I came by to tell you I saw your brother.''

Grace stared at the man. ''Tell me. Please.''

Mr. Callahan grabbed his horse and they set off in a comfortable pace on a walk around the field.

''He was loud alright,'' Mr. Callahan began. ''Like you said. Found him up by the tailor's in Saint Denis. Big coincidence, really.''

Grace looked at him expectantly, but with little hope. She could already tell where it was going.

''I tried to tell him you were lookin' for him. He might've been drunk, I dunno, but he ended up runnin'.''

''He ran?'' Grace asked. ''That little-''

''Might've not liked the look of me. Took me for a bounty hunter or the like, I'd wager. Said somethin' about a debt before he took off. I tried catching him, but...''

Grace held her hand up to stop him and shook her head. ''No, no. I can't thank you enough, Mr. Callahan,'' she said gratefully.

''I didn't really do nothin'.''

''No, you did,'' Grace assured him. ''Thanks to you I know he's still around. Even if he seems to be digging his own grave as he goes.''

Mr. Callahan looked down at his feet, kicking at the dust. Grace eyed him curiously. ''You don't owe me anything, you know.''

He shrugged. ''You saved my life.''

''I just helped you along the way,'' Grace said. ''You did all the hard work.''

Mr. Callahan shook his head. ''Nah. Even if I don't owe you no more, I sure as hell did before.''

Grace smiled. ''As you wish.'' She paused. ''Are you staying in Valentine for a while?''

Something clouded his gaze. ''No. Might've seen more of that town than anyone wants.''

Grace laughed. ''It's a queer town at times, I'll agree, but it's nice most days of the week.''

''I ran into two brothers the other day,'' Mr. Callahan said suddenly. ''They were... most definitely strange.''

Grace knew right away who he was talking about. Everyone around here knew them. Unfortunately.

''Don't tell me,'' she replied grimly. ''The Addingtons?''

''How'd ya know?''

''They're both idiots,'' Grace continued, making a face. ''But Helen is an even bigger one, if you ask me. Leading them on like that, having them make fools of themselves. Even if they do it willingly.''

''I take it they're talked 'bout.''

''Once, they asked one of the hands at the stables in town to let them hang onto ropes behind his horse to see who let go first.''

Mr. Callahan chuckled. ''They wanted me to shoot bottles off their heads.''

Grace stared at him in awe. ''And you did?'' Even though she wouldn't put it past those two lunatics, that was completely insane.

''Didn't have nothin' better to do,'' he shrugged, and she caught sight of the smile on his lips before he covered it up. Apparently he was amused by the whole thing, and when she thought about it; they really were like two jesters. Court fools of castle Valentine.

''I wonder how long they can go on like that,'' Grace said. ''Somehow it feels like it might not end well.''

Mr. Callahan shrugged. ''Fightin' over women never ends well.''

''Fightin' never ends well,'' Grace countered.

''I take it you still haven't picked up a gun?''

''I don't care for it,'' Grace replied. ''I've fired one once, I know how it works if I ever need to know.''

''Well, if you're sure,'' Arthur trailed off and they were left in a comfortable silence. At least, to Grace it was. She rarely felt uncomfortable when not engaged in a conversation.

She picked a piece of grass and began twirling it around her fingers, until it broke. ''If you don't mind me asking,'' Grace began, eyeing him from the corner of her eye. ''What's it like?''

''What?''

Grace pondered for a second before she spoke. ''Vagabonding.''

Mr. Callahan looked at her, then he looked at his feet, and then straight ahead. Maybe she shouldn't have asked. Just as she was about to take it back, he said:

''It's not easy.''

Grace waited patiently. She had gathered he wasn't a man of many words, but that only meant that whatever he said was all the more important to listen to.

''Our group...'' he continued slowly, ''it's like a family I suppose. We all pitch in. But we gotta move around a lot.''

His horse whinnied, and he gave it an absentminded pat on the neck. ''We're hoping to get somewhere,'' he said. ''Somewhere good.''

She recognised herself in those words all too well. The want for something more. Well, maybe not more – that would break her mother's good Christian heart if she spoke in such terms – but something good and peaceful. That was really all one could ask for.

''My father came over from Ireland years ago,'' Grace said after a while. ''He had a dream too. Maybe not much different than yours. He searched for a promised land where he could build a life.''

She looked out over the grass-covered land before them, eyes softening. ''He came through Boston. Then he made his way west and ended up here. Everything that's here, he built it. He's everywhere. If I don't take care of it, I'm afraid I might lose him.''

Grace felt a sour smile growing on her face. ''Silly, I know,'' she continued. ''But he sacrificed so much for his children. I don't want to dishonour his sacrifice.''

''S'not silly,'' Mr. Callahan said.

They went silent again, and Grace turned her attention to his horse. She never was much of an animal lover – to her they were useful, but she never formed the same attachments that others seemed to.

That didn't mean she didn't know anything, of course. Wouldn't be much of a farmer otherwise. She could tell it was a mare, both by the form and the overall temper. A little grumpy.

''You've got a pretty horse,'' Grace complimented. ''She got a name?''

Mr. Callahan petted the animal once more, with affection in his eyes. ''Penelope. Named my last one Boadicea.''

Grace snorted. ''What kind of name is that?''

''Penelope is common, ain't it?''

''Touché.''

Grace straightened the shawl around her neck. ''I don't really name animals,'' she confessed. ''I suppose living on a farm might have done that to me. But maybe I should've named the horses. I let James decide for our two bays, and his ideas weren't very original.''

''Do I even wanna know?''

She laughed. ''Probably not.''

They stopped and stood in silence, listening to the crickets preparing themselves for a night of singing.

Mr. Callahan cleared his throat. ''I should probably be on my way. Take care, Miss O'Neill.''

''Oh, I think by now you might as well call me Grace,'' she smiled, reaching out her hand. Mr. Callahan took it, slightly hesitant.

''Arthur.''