Blessed are the Peacemakers

Part One of a Three Shot (18/05/2021 - Originally posted on AO3 31/03/2021) Summary: Lizzie isn't worried, not at first, when Uncle Dutch and Micah ride back to camp without her father with them.

That's not to say she believed Micah when he says her father has just "wandered off again" after he saw the meeting with Colm O'Driscolls was going… not well exactly, but that there had been no need to resort to violence, but she trusts Uncle Dutch when he nods, him adding with a knowing grin that they'll be seeing Arthur soon, most likely with some new rare pelt slung over the back of Athena's rump, with enough meat that they'll be feasting for days.

But as the hours start to stretch and day turns to night, the fear that something has gone wrong, that something terrible has happened to her father, becomes very real as it starts to sinks it claws deep in to her chest.

Chapter One: A lantern lit to guide you home

She isn't worried, not at first, when Uncle Dutch and Micah ride back to camp without her father with them.

That's not to say she believed Micah when he says her father has just "wandered off again" after he saw the meeting with Colm O'Driscolls was going… not well exactly, but that there had been no need to resort to violence, but she trusts Uncle Dutch when he nods, he adding with a knowing grin that they'll be seeing Arthur soon, most likely with some new rare pelt slung over the back of Athena's rump, with enough meat that they'll be feasting for days.

Everyone within hearing range laughs in agreement before moving on with their afternoon tasks. Lizzie though, she can't help but hover near to Uncle Dutch's tent, listening to Uncle Hosea demands to know everything about the meeting with Colm O'Driscoll, seeming unbelieving, given how much bad blood there was between Uncle Dutch and Mr O'Driscoll – and it was years to Lizzie understanding. Years and years of bad blood between them. – that either of them would let the other simply "walk away" when neither of them could settle their differences over the deaths of brothers and lovers.

But Uncle Dutch replied, firmly, that that was exactly what had happened, even when they couldn't see past their differences, they had simply "walked away" from each other, with no one shooting anyone else in the back.

"And that's when Arthur left I suspect. He saw I was safe, and thought his time be better spent hunting. You know how he is Hosea, boy can't stay still, always needing to be doing something." Uncle Dutch laughs and she is certain that it is meant to be a reassuring sound, only… why did the sound of it now fill her with dread?

Where was Daddy?

Yes, she knew he had a habit of going off on his own, for hours on end, usually, without telling anyone even which direction he was heading in, let alone what his destination might be, but Daddy… Daddy would never not report back to Uncle Dutch after such an important meeting with Uncle Dutch sworn enemy.

Even if the meeting had been fine, no shots fired, Daddy would still… he'd still have checked in with Uncle Dutch.

But he hadn't?

Why hadn't he?

"Uncle Hosea?" she watches as he leaves Dutch's tent, his mouth pulled into an unhappy line.

"Lizzie? You gave me quite the fright there sweetheart," she watched him force a smile as he placed a hand dramatically over his heart.

"What is it sweetheart?" he must have seen her face and his joking manner immediately dropped.

"You worried bout Daddy?" She saw no point but being blunt, her stomach was already in knots from worry and Uncle Hosea was the one person she could trust to ease them.

His next words, however, did not.

"I always worry about your father, but if you were listening to Dutch," he fondly tweaked her nose, silently telling her he knew she had been listening in on his and Uncle Dutch's conversation, but it was alright, he understood why she had and she wasn't in any trouble for doing so, "he's right. Your father's gone off again, hunting or helping folk as he likes doing. He'll be back, he always is."

And with a ruffle of her hair, Uncle Hosea walks back to the where he had left his book on the table, more interested in reading it than worrying about his wayward oldest son.

She did try to follow Uncle Hosea, and Uncle Dutch's examples of not worrying. That everything was fine, that Daddy would be back shortly.

She truly did try.

She played with Jackie as normal, helped Pearson cut vegetables for dinner while he spun stories about his "navy days" – she likes the story that involves whales and dolphins best. Not killing them, those made her sad so Pearson doesn't tell those ones no more, but stories about 'em helping sailors who had fallen overboard. Nice stories – and tries her best to distract Molly from her worries over Uncle Dutch by reading her Lizzie's favourite parts of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' – she doesn't think she's stopped Molly from worrying about Uncle Dutch, but she made her laugh and Lizzie guesses that's gotta count for something.

She does her chores without fuss, picks up sticks for the fire, helps Kieran with the horses (she doesn't think of this as much of a chore. She likes helping to look after the horses and she doesn't mind Kieran. She rather likes him, for all that he is as skittish as any deer.).

She even does some sewing for Miss Grimshaw despite her absolute loathing for the task.

Anything to keep her mind off the growing worry in her gut as the afternoon stretched to dusk into night and well into her bedtime.

"C'mon, to bed with you." Uncle John said when he spotted her still sitting by the fire well past her bedtime, eyes drooping but refusing to leave her spot until Daddy returned.

"Daddy ain't back yet." Lizzie scrubbed at her tired eyes, determined to stay awake until he did.

"He will be." Uncle John replied as he slide his hands underneath her armpits and lifted her with ease into his arms. "And he'll be pissed seeing you out of bed."

"Nuh ah." Lizzie grumbled, "He won't."

Uncle John only lets out an amused snort as he carried her over to hers and Daddy tent, but she knows that he knows that she's right.

"Sleep, Liz." Uncle John says as he sets her down just inside Daddy's tent, "By morning, your Daddy will be back, grumbling bout all kinds of shit, ya'll see."

"Like you." Lizzie shoots back cheekily and grins as she is lightly cuffed over the head.

"Yeah, like me. Now git to bed." But then in a softer tone, he added, "Your Daddy will be back in the morning."

"And if he ain't?" Lizzie can't stop the fear that creeps into her voice.

"Then… I guess we'll go looking for him."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now git to bed. Or… do you want to go sleep with the girls, so yous won't be all by yourself?"

"Uh ah. M'right 'ere. Wanna be 'ere when Daddy gets home."

"Alright… holler if you need anything."

And then he's gone and Lizzie is alone in her father's tent.

There's a lantern lit on a crate that acts as bedside table for Daddy and her so the tent wasn't in complete darkness, but it still felt very empty and vast without Daddy in it.

It wasn't the first time she had gone to be bed without Daddy sitting up writing in his journal by candle-light, but it had been a long time since she had gone to bed with this much dread in her belly. A long time, years even. Not since she was no older than Jackie and she thought anytime Daddy left camp it would be the last time she ever saw him.

It takes her half a moment to decide to sleep in Daddy's cot, her nose filling with his familiar scent as she borrowed down into his blankets. Lance curled himself against her back, purring loudly enough to keep any monsters hiding out in the dark of night at bay.

She left the lantern lit (despite the waste of resource – she was sure to hear from Miss Grimshaw about it in the coming morning) so Daddy would find his way back home.

8 8 8

Lizzie woke at dawn to a burnt out lantern and an empty tent, seeing no signs at all in the early dawn light that Daddy had returned sometime during the night.

In a hurry, she dressed, determined to see if Daddy wasn't simply sitting by the fire or the lake side, having decided he returned too late in the night to bother with sleep.

It wouldn't be the first time he had done something of the sort.

Camp was silent aside from the noise of the slumbering and the gentle lapping of water against the shore.

On quick feet, she checks camp all over, from the fire, to around every tent and wagon, to the pier and along the shoreline in case Daddy had decided to do some early morning fishing. She even went so far as asking Uncle Bill and Micah, who were both on watch that morning, if they had seen her father.

Micah was as awful and as unhelpful as ever, but Uncle Bill at least gave her the straight answer of "No, ain't seen 'im" before shooing her away.

She dutifully shooed away with sick butterflies flying bout her belly.

Daddy hadn't come back to camp last night.

Again, she tried telling herself firmly, bravely, this was not out of the ordinary for her father.

There had been times before now, when he would be gone for days because of a job, but, a whisper breathed from the back of her skull, he… he always let her know first and-and… Uncle Dutch and Micah had come back from the only job Daddy had been working on, outside of the whole big Braithwaite/Gray scheme.

So…so, where was he?

Breathing hard, she ran across camp to Uncle John's tent.

"Uncle John! Daddy still ain't back! It's morning!"

She heard a great deal of swearing from within Uncle John's tent before his head finally appeared, looking as grouchy and ill-tempered as the wolves who gave him his scars.

"Hardly morning." He grunted as he squinted and glared at the dawn light.

"He ain't back!" Lizzie jumped up and down, angry that Uncle John was taking so long to get how serious this was. "Neither Uncle Bill nor Micah 'as seen 'im this morning and-and he doesn't… Daddy doesn't go on trips, not overnight ones, without letting me know first." She wrung her hands in front of her, "somethings happened. Something bad!"

"Liz…" Uncle John ran a hand down his face, "He ain't even been gone a day. He'll turn up any time now, with some great pelt or whole lotta money and be wondering why you're in such a state."

"Bu-but, you promised." She bit down hard upon her lip and watched as Uncle John groaned, a hand wiping across his face.

"Hey now… that ain't fair. You… listen, I said I'd go look'en for 'im if he ain't back by morning. This 'ere," He pointed at the dawn light, "hardly counts as morning. Give 'im a few more hours Liz. Trust me, he'll be back b'fore you know it. Don't go letting your head run away with you. Okay"

"Okay."

"Good girl. Think you could go back to bed, or... no, okay." He snorted at Lizzie vigorous head shaking, "Guess you better find something quiet to do til everyone else is up… or your Daddy's home."

"O-okay."

She wanders around camp, aimlessly, until she finally grabs up one of the newest story books Daddy had gotten her, one that is about Princesses and goblins and settles herself down by the fire pit and waits… and waits… and waits.

"You're up early Lizzie." Charles called a little while later, his eyes bright and ever watchful.

"I'm waiting for Daddy to come home."

Charles frowned, his watchful eyes flicking around camp.

"He still ain't back yet?"

"No. And…" she jumps to her feet, speaking fast before Charles can tell her it's fine, it's fine, it's all fine, "it's not like 'im. To not come home. Or to leave overnight and not let me know. And-and he…"

"He ain't come back with Dutch and Micah after their meeting with the O'Driscolls." Charles finished for her, worry etched over his face.

Lizzie closed her eyes in relief, because yes, finally, finally someone was understanding why she was so worried.

"I'm sure it's nothing." Her relief plummeted like a pumpkin dropped from the edge of a cliff, smashing to gooey orange pieces on the rocks far below.

"But," he continued as she gazed up at him in despair, "I'm gonna be going out hunting today, how bout I keep an eye out for him? Let him know your worried." One of Charles small, rare smiles showed as he added, "ain't nothing else in the world that would send him back 'ere faster than hearing that you're worrying about 'im."

"Thank you Charles." She jumps forward to hug him tightly, startling them both. Charles had always seemed to be someone who didn't much like being touched – rather like Uncle John – so Lizzie, like with Uncle John, made a point to not hug him, not unless she had permission first. She didn't want to upset them.

"Sorry."

"It's alright." Charles said, his voice soft and gaze gentle. "I'll keep an eye out for your father. We'll get 'im home, Liz, you'll see."

When Charles is about leave to go hunting – and have a look about for her father – Uncle John emerged from his tent, dressed and wearing that expression her father always teased as his 'thinking too hard, John'll hurt himself' face.

Uncle John and Charles speak briefly and after one cup of coffee, they are both off, heading in opposite directions but with, Lizzie was sure, the same mission in mind.

They're gone all day.

As is Daddy.

Lizzie spends the day running loops all about camp – enough so that folk start teasing her about leaving actual tracks in the ground – watching and waiting for any sign of her father's return.

Her chest is tight and the butterflies in her belly have turned into wasps when Uncle John and Charles both return to camp that evening with grim expressions and without the company of her father.

She thinks, hopes, this might stir something with Uncle Dutch, as it does with Uncle Hosea – the only person in camp who hasn't told her to settle her arse down and not to worry about her father – but Uncle Dutch waves away Uncle John and Charles's reports of not seeing Arthur all day, despite keeping an eye out for him, claiming her father has just wandered off further than normal and he'd be home soon enough, thinking them all fools for throwing such a fuss over him being gone an extra day longer than expected.

She feels like screaming when the rest of camp seems to agree with him. Not everyone, there are some who frown and look unhappy, but no one speak up against Dutch and so she spends another night alone in her father's tent, lantern once more burning brightly so Daddy might find his way home.

She doesn't think the lantern is bright enough to guide him home though because their tent is still empty of him the following morning, as is the rest of camp, and no one on lookout duty can report having seen him during the night when Lizzie runs around asking.

Despite Uncle Dutch again telling them that morning that there's nothing to worry about regarding her father's prolonged absence; Uncle John, Charles along with Lenny, Sean, Javier, the girls and even Mrs Adler all promise her as they're making to leave camp for the day to go out and do their various jobs about town or out hunting that they'll be keeping an eye out for him.

It's not much, but it's something.

It's more than what she is able to do in any case.

Anytime she tries to leave the boundaries of camp, Miss Grimshaw or Uncle Hosea are on her, quick as a whip, wanting her to work of her sewing or her reading, busy tasks to keep her from thinking of her absent father and the fact that he had been missing almost two days now and Dutch still thinks things are fine, all is fine, even though Daddy has gone missing after a meeting with Colm O'Driscoll.

Stop, but such thoughts have been rotating around her head for well, at least a day now and she can't stop but keep looking up from her slate where she was meant to be working on her sums, with Jackie chattering at her side at the table, reading his storybook aloud to Uncle Hosea, and frowning at Uncle Dutch's tent, where she can see him sitting, reading and listening to his gramophone.

"Liz."

She couldn't quite stop but turn her frown onto Uncle Hosea who is pointing at her half-done workings with an expectant expression his face.

With a huff, she goes back to her sums but the wasps in her belly continued to sting her from within.

And continued stinging they did as afternoon once more rolled into evening, then into night with dinner rolling past and it's time again for her to start getting ready for bed and still no one has seen hide nor hair of her father, he still hasn't returned home.

No one makes her go to bed though, she's allowed to sit up with the girls in their tent, them speaking quietly about this and that while they play with Lizzie's hair as she stares without seeing into the looming darkness, lost in her own terribly dark thoughts.

What if he never came back…

What would become of her then? Would the gang keep her?

They were her family, the only family she has left in the world, but they were thieves and con-artists, outlaws constantly on the run from the law and Lizzie was of no help to them other than looking after Jackie. And what if that wasn't enough no more with Daddy gone?

Would they drop her off at an orphanage or to a school for girls and she never saw them again?

She would be alone again, all alone, and she…

A noise in the night pulls her from her dark swirl of thoughts causing her sit up straighter and really listen.

Was that… a horse?

Lance, who had been sitting with her most of the day having sensed her mood, was up and running into the night, leaving with Lizzie little doubt that… that…

"Lizzie!? Wait come back!"

She ignores the calls and tears off into the night, heart pounding as yes, she can definitely hear the sounds of a horse in distress and she thinks… she thinks…

She sees Athena first, her whole body heaving for air, her legs looking moments away from collapsing beneath her, as she noses at a dark sharp lying on the ground, the distressed whiny cutting straight to her heart, though not quite as deeply as…

"Daddy?"

"'ello Liz… s-sorry, I'm late."

"DADDY!"

Her shriek stirs the sleepy camp into action, pulling folks from their beds or from the fireside, sending them running to where she was crouched by her father's prone form, their cries of her father's name sounding like gunshots inside her skull.

Tears prick at her eyes as she listens to her father's pain filled groans.

"I told you it was a set up, Dutch…"

So Daddy had thought the meeting was a trap… had said as much to Uncle Dutch… but Uncle Dutch still, he still hadn't…

She was pulled into Mary-Beth's arms as folk like Uncle Hosea, Miss Grismshaw and Reverend Swanson fussed over her father, with Mr Pearson babbling apologies while Uncle Dutch snapped at him that it's a bit late for apologies.

A bit late… a bit late… late…

Warm arms held her firm, despite her protests, her begging to be allowed to be with Daddy. Her struggles were ignored though as Mary-Beth, who simply held her closer as Karen and Tilly formed ranks around her, telling her it's fine, it's fine, all was fine.

The desire to scream was back. Stronger than ever because it ain't fine, it ain't, none of this was fine!

Her father was hurt, badly!

She saw how bad despite Mary-Beth's best efforts to shield her, she saw the shoulder wound, had smelt the blood, so much blood.

It's almost too much, almost enough to send her to that dark, haunted place in her mind that frightens her, the place in her head where the nightmares step forth from, nightmares of two gunshots and strangled breaths while she lays hidden beneath floorboards as someone moans 'ain't nut'ing 'ere but ten dollars'.

It's so close, so close she's certain that the only thing that will keep that darkness at bay is if she is near her father, near enough to hear him breathing.

He has to keep breathing, he has too!

"Please."

She fights against Mary-Beth's warm arms, against Tilly stroking her hair and Karen talking some nonsense about being strong and a good girl, like Karen knows anything about being a good girl.

"Please, please, please."

Just a look. If nothing else, let her see him, let her see proof that he will live, that he isn't about to die! That the shoulder wound isn't so bad as it looks and the blood, all that blood that covers her father belongs to another and not to him, to the people who tried to hurt him.

Please...

But they won't let her.

They close up hers and her father's tent, with Miss Grimshaw and Reverend Swanson both inside it, tending to her father – though she thinks tending is certainly the wrong word because she can hear her father cries of pain, in agony, and Lizzie wants to beat them bloody for hurting him further – while she is forced to stay away, far away with the girls, until Tilly runs and grabs Uncle Hosea when Lizzie has worked herself into a state that has not been seen since she was first brought to camp four years ago and the nightmares and grief over the loss of her mother, of her twin, were so great that it felt as if she might be torn apart from the inside out.

Uncle Hosea doesn't tell her sweet lies that all will be well.

He knows better than that with her.

No, he sits her down in his lap, and talks to her like she actually possesses a functioning brain and though sweet lies that her father would be fine, fine, fine, might have been nicer to hear, the truth was what she wanted even if it felt as if a knife is being driven in and out her chest.

"He'll live." She whispers as she sits curled up in Uncle Hosea's lap, "He'll live. He has too. He has too."

She had already lost Momma and Zac and she barely survived the pain of their loss, she can't… she doesn't…

"He has to live. He has too."

18/05/2021 Author's Note: I think pretty much everyone who has played and/or watched playthroughs of RDR2 can agree that Arthur deserved so, so much better from the gang when he was captured by the O'Driscolls in Chapter Three's Blessed are the Peacemakers mission.

This three-shot doesn't exactly fix this, Arthur still has to do all the heavy lifting of rescuing and getting himself back to camp himself, but it does try and show that folk cared, that they actually went out looking for him after he went missing, even if they are being pushed to do so by an eight year old girl.