The next few days, Isabella had gotten worse, her fever growing too powerful over her, causing her to fall into a dead like sleep. She often heard voices, some familiar, some not. More so, she could feel hands against her skin, causing her to groan. She felt sick, and even if she did wake for a few seconds, she wanted to vomit.
Her hands often clutched at that nightgown she wore, or the rugged blankets she laid upon, getting a feel at the fabrics made her understand that she was not dead, on the very verge of dying but not completely gone.
Miss Grimshaw and Abigail had decided that Reverend Swanson's little morphine friend could help her, Arthur agreed, having the man sent in, letting him shoot the drug up into Isabella's arm.
"It worked for John," Isabella could hear Abigail say, Arthur sighing a bit, sounding far away when he spoke, Isabella coming to realize she was falling back into a fever like sleep.
The next time Isabella awoke, she wasn't alone, wearing a different nightgown, her blankets had even been changed out. Her emerald eyes darted to the figure beside her, a sleeping outlaw with his hat over his face to block out any light that poured into that small room. Isabella smiled a bit, turning her gaze away from him, looking up at the ceiling, shivering a bit. Her fever was gone, having broken the night prior, her side didn't burn as much as it first did, and she didn't feel like she was dying. At least for now. When she heard the soft ruffle of clothing, her gaze was back on Arthur, who had shifted a bit in his chair. Was he really the Arthur Morgan she had heard about? The deadly butcher, gunslinger, who ran with deadly boys, causing mischief for years and years on end? He surely didn't seem like all the stories she'd heard about. Isabella wasn't exactly sure how many ran in the Van Der Linde gang, but she guessed it was quite a few, considering all the voices she heard in her fever like dreams.
Right now, it didn't matter, she needed to get back on her feet first before she planned how she would take down not only Arthur, but Dutch himself.
Isabella was trying to sit up, a loud hiss sounding from her when she felt a pull in her side, a sudden pain rushing back. Arthur must have heard it too, that man jumped up, his hat nearly falling. He looked her over, seeing that she was trying to sit up, and scoffed.
"What you doing, woman?" He called, almost a look of pleasure on his face, seeing that she was struggling.
"What's it look like?" She snapped back, Arthur shaking his head.
"I wouldn't sass me, if I were you." He said, lowly. It was almost a threat, if Isabella wasn't in so much pain she would have smacked him.
Isabella rolled her eyes, "What you gonna do about it? Shoot me?" She taunted, Arthur sitting forward, that smug, pleasant look on his face disappearing.
"I just might," he threatened, and a sudden chill ran through Isabella's body, and it showed, Arthur knowing it had an effect on her, causing him to sit back in his chair. Isabella laid back down, seeing no point in trying to sit up, at least not yet.
"You've been out for a few days, but your fever broke. Which is what we were hoping for." Arthur stated, Isabella lifting an eyebrow. "We?" She called softly, hearing him clear his throat, "The girls, it's what they hoped for." He said quickly, as though he was caught in a lie and was covering it up quickly. Isabella turned her gaze and looked at him, was that a blush on his cheeks?
"But look," Arthur said, his tone serious, and low as he sat forward again, staring at her. "You're gonna need a few more days to heal up, and well, we ain't gonna be here a few more days. We're getting out of here, finding a new camp. With the snow thawing, it'll be a good time to move. There's been talk, and well, we want you to move with us." Arthur explained, Isabella giving him a confused look. Who was we? Was that Dutch? Did he know of her presence?
"I know you got a lot of questions, and so do we. Now just ain't the best time to be asking things. Not with-" He cut himself off, knowing he was about to say too much to her. She couldn't blame him, he hardly knew her, and to suddenly give out information was a bad idea.
"O'Driscolls?" she guessed, having heard that name one too many times in her sleep over the last few days. Arthur was a tad surprised, but he didn't show it, not to her.
"Something like that," Arthur said, getting ready to say something else, but stopping when the bedroom door opened. A gentleman, who was much older looking stepped in, along with Dutch. Isabella knew what he looked like, having seen that wanted poster so many times, she could practically draw the man from memory, if she needed to.
"Arthur, you're awake. So is our guest, I see." The older man stated, Arthur rising from his chair, towering over the pair of them, as well as her. He had to be at least six feet, and a small part of her was suddenly afraid of him. He was well known for his gun, and Lord knows what else. He could take her down easily if a fight ever came between the pair of them.
"Hosea, Dutch, this is Miss Isabella Turkin." Arthur called, the pair of newly come men looking past him to see her.
"Quite the scene, isn't she?" Dutch called softly, Hosea nodding, stepping closer to her.
"Yes, and those eyes, mesmerizing." Hosea said softly, Arthur stepping out of the way, watching the pair of them.
"What happened to you, my dear? You've been through hell as I've heard, just as much as us." Hosea said, Isabella finally finding the strength to sit up, a hand tucked to her side, feeling a slight burn.
It was Hosea who sat at the foot of the bed, while Dutch stood, all three men eyeing her, as she thought up some lie to tell them. They were a gang of outlaws, she had to think like them in order to lay low.
"Husband shot me," Isabella called, Hose and Dutch peeking a look at one another. "We got this tip, about a homestead job, money ain't always came to us easily, so we didn't think twice when we got the tip. Apparently, this woman has a lotta money, and my husband, well, if I knew what a greedy bastard he was, I wouldn't have married him. He wanted it to himself, so what better way to get things to yourself? Kill off anyone who gets in the way. He tricked me, said he had business on this mountain, next thing I knew, he turned on me. Got the gunshot wound to prove it." Isabella said, sighing softly. It wasn't all necessarily a lie, her ex hunter partner, a skillful bounty hunter, had definitely shot her for dead when she claimed that she would be going after Arthur and Dutch alone. She knew of their Blackwater job, what a mess it had become, and that they were going anywhere to get away from the law. If that meant dragging lives through a snowstorm, then so be it. Isabella knew everything she needed to know, about them, about their failed job. It wouldn't be easy to bring them both in, but Bounty Hunting was never an easy job.
"Left you for dead, huh? Bastard did a half assed job, I'll tell you that." Hosea said softly, Dutch nodding in agreement.
"Well, I am sorry, Miss. I do hope we don't come across as such a man like that. I know dear Arthur here might. We're bad men, but nothing like that, Miss Turkin." Dutch said, Isabella giving a smile, looking to Arthur. The look he was giving her, a hard, cold stare. He didn't believe a word she said, and she knew it. Her stomach flipped, but she played off his cold gaze as nothing.
"He seems harsh, but I know he's only that way to keep you all safe." Isabella said, staring back at him, seeing him scoff and then look away.
"Ah, he acts dumb with those big muscles, but the boy has a good head on his shoulder, you'll see." Hosea said, Dutch tilting his head a bit, looking at Isabella.
"I'm sure he told you the news, we wouldn't want you staying up here alone. You will join us, if I'm not mistaken?" Dutch called, and Isabella didn't respond right away.
Staying here alone meant possibly dying, either from her wound, stupid O'Driscolls, or from the actual cold. Staying here meant losing her shot at capturing her targets. And she didn't need that right about now. Going with them gave her sanctuary to heal, and to earn their trust. To wait for the right moment and then make her move, of course that meant laying low for a while until she managed on her own.
"I think that would be best," Isabella said, seeing Dutch in approval.
"Very good, we'll see to getting you your own tent. Borrow a few things from the girls, I'm sure they won't mind lending you a few of their things, just until you're back up on your feet." Dutch said, eyeing Arthur.
"You're gonna help her with whatever she needs,"
"Dutch, I ain't-"
"Just until she can manage on her own." Dutch said firmly, hearing Arthur sigh, shaking his head. "Alright, Dutch. Whatever you say."
"Good, we best turn in, busy day ahead of us." Dutch called, patting Hosea on his shoulder, Hosea coughing a bit as he stood.
"Goodnight, my dear. Try and get some sleep." Hosea called, Isabella sat forward a bit.
"I will, and thank, I'm grateful for your help." She called, all three stopping to look at her, Dutch nodding, a small smile on her face.
When they left, Arthur went with them, and Isabella herself fell back asleep, strangely dreaming about that towering outlaw, and his blue, cold stare.
Over the next few days, it was mostly just the gang settling in. A tent was provided to Isabella, one with the sides closed off, giving her the privacy she wanted. The girls, Tilly, Karen, and Abigail handed down a few pieces of clothing that they either didn't want or need. Isabella was overly thankful for everything that they were doing for her, and she felt a bit guilty. They hardly knew her and most were treating her like she was one of their own.
But, like most Bounty Hunters, she couldn't let her emotions get in the way of her job, so she pushed anything else that wasn't about the task at hand away, and seemed as if she was emotionless, and distant.
It was difficult, watching the gang move about with their daily lives, how close everyone was. How John and Arthur bickered, how protective Abigail was over her son, how little Jack said good morning to everyone. The Dutch Boys, as she had heard, wasn't just a gang, but a family. They cared about the well being of each other, looked out for one another, and for Isabella to have such a small portion of that, she felt lucky almost.
"Isabella," a voice called from outside her tent, Isabella removing herself from her tent, seeing that it was Arthur. Dressed in a blue everyday shirt, along with dark rancher's pants, his gun belt around his waist, while his satchel sat on his shoulder, hanging down to his hip. The faint scent of pomade filled Isabella's nose, and she suddenly realized he cleaned up a bit.
"I've a visitor, how kind of you." Isabella teased, Arthur shaking his head.
"Hosea wants me to take ya out, get ya a decent horse. Dutch said that he might want you going out on jobs when you're feelin' better." Arthur said, Isabella was a bit surprised.
"He said that?"
"Told em' about your slingin', never seen a woman pull a gun so fast." He said, the heat rising to Isabella's cheeks when he said it, making her look away. "I did no such thing, mister Morgan." She told him, clearly wanting him to forget such a thing.
"Matter o' fact, who the hell taught you how to shoot?' Arthur pressed on, pressing on Isabella's nerve, which made her groan and stomp back inside her tent, gather her things. Outside, she could hear Arthur chuckle, he loved seeing her miserable apparently.
Returning to him, she adjusted her hat on her head, making sure her gun belt was on straight, Arthur seeing her fiddle.
"Will you stop that? You're acting like we're goin' on a damn date or somethin.' You look fine," Arthur called.
"Well, what the hell would you call it?"
"Just two people, goin' out, lookin' at horses, don't you play mind games with me woman." Arthur said, wiggling his index finger at her, causing her to laugh. Isabella slapped his finger away, taking off toward the horses, feeling Arthur's stare on her back as she went.
"Which one is yours again?" Isabella called, looking at the variety of horses grazing in the grass, Arthur approaching, standing beside her.
"That big one, over there."
"The shire?" Isabella asked, Arthur nodding, walking over, patting that horse's neck.
"I ain't even named him yet," Arthur told her, trying to strike up small conversation, Isabella joining him, gently reaching out to pat the horse's mane with him.
That woman was lost in thought, until she finally spoke. "How about Utana?" She suggested, Arthur peeking a look at her.
"It means 'big' in my mother language." She explained, Arthur tilting his head a bit.
"Your what?" He asked, Isabella shaking her head, almost laughing. Seeing the confused look on his face made her smile.
"I'm a uh, redskin if you will. Most people wou;dn't use the term," She said, Arthur rounding his horse, "We would never disrespect you like that,"
"Easy, cowboy. I know you wouldn't." Isabella said, looking up at him, getting a good look into his eyes again. They were dreamy, deep like the ocean, powerful. She caught herself looking too long and quickly looked away, a faint blush on her cheeks.
"Utana, I think it fits him." Arthur said, Isabella smiling a bit, hearing that accent of his, which put a bit of sophistication to the word now.
"It does," She agreed, Arthur rounded Utana once more, mounting up with ease, and then he leaned, with his hand outstretched.
"You're riding in the front, you're smaller." Arthur explained, Isabella folding her arms over her chest, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Get up here or I'm leaving your ass behind." Arthur threatened, Isabella sighing, taking his hand, feeling him help her settle into the saddle, her hands going to the horn.
She felt Arthur turn that brute of a horse, and spur him forward, the two taking off toward Valentine. They talked softly along the way, but what really distracted Isabella was Arthur's scent. Whiskey and tobacco from his morning cigarette. Hell, her own scent was distracting him while he drove. Isabella smelt sweet like lavender, and like the wild flowers that Jack brought to Abigail from time to time. This comforting herbal smell came about her, and he found himself pressing his nose to her shoulder slightly every so often, only doing so while so spoke, and only smelling at her for a few seconds.
By the time the pair actually got to Valentine, they hardly had anything to say. Especially Arthur. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman, and to have one like Isabella, it would probably drive him up a wall. She was confident, and bold, slightly closed off, but Hell, Arthur liked it. Seeing her pull that gun when they were in Colter said everything he needed to know. She was in no way a damsel in distress, and didn't need a man to save her.
Of course doubt slipped into his mind, Isabella would never want a man like him.
"Arthur?" Did you hear me?" Isabella called, pulling Arthur from his thoughts, his gaze going to her, seeing that she had already dismounted Utana.
"What?"
"I said are you coming?" Isabella asked, turning to head inside the stable, Arthur shook his head, "Need to run to the store real fast, meet you back here in a few." Arthur explained, seeing her shake her head as she went in.
Going his own way, he went to the store, but was far too distracted with his own thoughts to remember what the hell he needed. He questioned her story, the one she told in Colter, but he knew she was a decent enough girl to keep around. That's what scared him. Would she vanish like the last?
Isabella settled on a beautiful American paint with a splashed white coat mare, those blue eyes she had caused her to stand out more than the rest. Arthur returned just in time to pay for the horse, quite impressed with Isabella's pick.
"Beauty," Arthur called, Isabella adjusting a few more straps on the saddle, making sure it was comfortable for the pair of them before she mounted up, riding out of the barn slowly.
"She's perfect, thank you." Isabella called, Arthur having mounted Utana, standing beside her, looking down at her.
"You know, I didn't think you'd make it over these last few days. Damn near surprised me with this comeback. Just a few more days and you'll be back to normal."
"Wow, I'm surprised you think so little of me," Isabella said, toying with him.
"I don't." He said suddenly, Isabella looking up at him.
"You don't?" She asked him, seeing him sit up a bit in his saddle, something he didn't mean to say, but it came out anyway.
"No, you'll fit in just well here. Welcome to The Dutch Boys, Isabella."