Here we are, a day later than originally intended. Blame Sekiro Shadows Die Twice for completely and utterly DESTROYING ME! And yet I can't stop playing? Mainly I think because I paid for this game, either I finish it or it kills me. I'm guessing it will be the latter.

Chapter 10: Valentine Shootout

Somehow, Arthur woke up without a serious hangover. A miracle, really, considering his past record over the last few months. He hoped Albert had fared just as well, but he couldn't worry about that for now. He went to outside with a bit of breakfast and sat down, keeping his eyes peeled for John and Old Boy, since Hosea planned to bring him to town today for a talk.

Not too much later, he spotted the Hungarian Half-bred walking down the street with Silver Dollar and Javier's horse, Boaz. Arthur stayed on his seat, nervous to meet with John. In his head, he had gone over what he wanted to say to the man over and over, but none of it felt right. After years of being angry at John for leaving the gang, Arthur went and did the same thing. Different circumstances, sure, but he knew John wouldn't see it like that.

John was trying to get Javier into the gun store. Hosea was trying to get John to continue down the street. And just when Arthur was on the verge of ducking back into the hotel, Hosea caught his eye, waved, and pointed John in his direction. The younger man turned and froze. Arthur didn't move either, taking in the narrowed eyes, the finally healed scars on his face just making him appear more enraged. He kicked up mud everywhere as he crossed towards Arthur, and Arthur received very little warning before a fist was knocking him back onto the porch.

"John!" Hosea shouted, grabbing John's arm. John tried to wrestle out of his grip even as Arthur chuckled and got back on his feet.

"Good to see you too, Marston."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" John managed to get his arm back. "You just disappear for days, for weeks, without a word that you are okay?"

And because Arthur wasn't having his brightest moment, he said, "Well, now you know how it feels."

And got punched in the face again.

"Will you two quit acting like children!" Hosea latched himself to John, trying to drag him away. Even Javier, eyes wide and confused after walking out of the gun store, tried to jump in and help as Arthur struggled back to his feet for a second time. "Now, I asked Arthur to come here so you two could talk. Do I have to play chaperon?"

"No," John said.

"Good. Now then, Javier and I are going to get ourselves a drink." Hosea dragged the still shocked Mexican away, whose eyes had morphed from confusion into something closer to anger. Arthur was disappointed but not surprised. Dutch had found Javier, like many other gang members, at his lowest point. The loyalty created by that took a lot to break.

But for the moment, all of Arthur's concern landed on John. Now that the two of them were alone, he wasn't entirely sure how to begin. "I, uh, rented a room upstairs. We can go up there, talk private."

"Fine," John said, pushing past Arthur and up the hotel stairs. He paused at the landing, letting Arthur lead the way to his room. "You alright?" asked John.

"Me? Yeah, I'm good. You?"

John sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded in his lap, and didn't answer for a while. Arthur patiently waited, and then, "So you just decided to leave, is that it?"

"You saw what Dutch did, do you blame me?"

"It was an accident, and you know it!"

"Was it, John?" To that, John didn't have an answer, and Arthur knew his brother had probably wondered the exact same thing over the last few days.

John sighed. "What even happened? What were you and Dutch arguing about? Dutch wouldn't tell us anything. Keeps blaming you."

"I told him I didn't like Micah. Or debt collecting for Strauss. We got to arguing, and he shoved me. We were standing a little too close to the edge, and you know what happened after that." He remembered just how terrified John looked when he leaned over the edge.

"You coming back?"

"I don't know. At first I just wanted to get away, clear my head. Now? This world don't want folks like us no more. And Dutch ain't going to change. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to just get out. You understand, don't you?"

"What? No! I don't understand," John said. "Ever since I got back, all you've done is given me shit about being loyal to the gang and now you are doing to exact same thing!"

"This is different, John! Christ alive." Arthur stopped himself from just storming out of the room. Of course, John would need this explained to him. "Look, it wasn't just about the gang, when you left. You have a kid, Marston!"

"That boy might not be mine!"

"So? I know you like Abigail, and for whatever reason she seems to like you back. She wants to raise Jack with you." John tried to interrupt, but Arthur continued. "And who cares if you don't know for sure Jack is yours? He probably is! And even if he isn't, so what? You think Hosea and Dutch ever gave a shit who our fathers were?"

"No," John whispered, looking for at his hands. The two avoided eye contact for a few awkward minutes.

"Look, you got a chance to have a family. I know Hosea talked to you. You could have a life outside the gang. You. Abigail. Jack."

"But what about loyalty to the gang? To Dutch and Hosea? They raised us, Arthur. That means something."

"Be loyal to what matters. Trust me, John. Your family matters more. I know Dutch might not understand, but Hosea will support you." John didn't say anything, but Arthur continued. "Just promise me, you'll talk to Hosea and think about it?"

"I will," he said. Then he stood up quick, remembering something. "I should go. There's a job…"

"What're you boys up to?"

"Sheep rustling. Going to scare off the ranchers bringing in sheep from Emerald Ranch and collect the money for them at auction."

"You? Herding sheep? That I got to see!"

They walked back down the stairs, relaxed and laughing. Hosea appeared happy to see them, but Javier held a scowl on his face. "You ready?" Javier said, pointedly ignoring Arthur.

John glanced at Arthur, then said, "Take care, Arthur."

"You, too."

They mounted their horses and left, and Hosea turned to Arthur. "I take it your talk went well?"

"He better do right by that boy. Make sure he does."

"Of course. It's good to see you again, Arthur. I wish I could stay, but I need to pick up some medicine for one of the horses."

Arthur walked with him towards the stable. "That's too bad, which one?"

"Ennis. He should be fine, with a little extra care. Kieran has been taking care of him rather well. Of course, that means Sean is lazing about in camp more than he usually does."

"How is the O'Driscoll anyway?"

"We'll make a Van Der Linde of him yet! Takes good care of the horses. Said he could make some medicine if he had some burdock root, but I haven't had the opportunity to go looking for any."

"Well, I'll let you know if I find any." Arthur's horses perked up when they entered the stable, and so did Albert's horse. He gave Lucy a few pats as he moved down the line.

"You didn't get another horse, did you?" Hosea asked.

"Naw. She belongs to a friend."

"So, where are you going now?"

"Not sure. Back into the mountains, maybe?" Or stick with Albert for a bit. Who knows?

"Please keep in touch. Let me know that you are alright. Help quiet this old mind."

"Of course. I'll figure out where to best get letters and I'll write to you."

Hosea's hand landed on Arthur's shoulder, then after a moment of hesitation, wrapped around his back to pull him into a hug. "I'm going to miss you, son."

"You'll still see me, Hosea. I haven't fully decided that I'm not coming back."

"I think you have," Hosea said sadly. "But it's for the best. The world has changed, and it is time." They separated, and Hosea headed to Silver Dollar.

"I'll see you around, Hosea."

And he was alone again. But not alone, as a hungover-looking photographer stumbled out the hotel door.

"You alright, Albert?" he asked with a laugh.

"I'm not sure if I can take pictures today," the other man groaned.

"You need food. Come on." Arthur dragged Albert to the general store. The town was bustling because of the auction, but they were able to squeeze through the door. "Here. Crackers, some fruit cans. What do you want?"

"I want to go back to bed."

"Oh, come on! You didn't drink that much!"

Arthur paid for the food, since Albert didn't look coherent enough to rummage through his own satchel for coins. They sat on the bench outside the store while they ate. Well, Arthur ate. Albert seemed content to listlessly stare at the food despite Arthur coaxing him to take a bite. That's when he heard a woman arguing with a man, his voice wispy and accented… and very familiar.

"Excuse me," Arthur said to Albert, heading up the street. His pace quickened when he realized that he recognized the woman, too. Herr Strauss had cornered Mrs. Downes, though cornered wasn't exactly the right word, since it appeared as though Mrs. Downes towered over the loanshark.

"Your collector said that our debt was taken care of!" she screamed at Strauss. Arthur approached from behind, grabbed Strauss by the suspenders and tossed him away from Mrs. Downes.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Arthur said.

"Oh, Mr… Mr. Morgan," Herr Strauss stuttered, eyes wide behind his tiny glasses frames. "I didn't know you were… back."

"I told you that the Downes debt was paid, and it is."

"Mr. Van der Linde… he said… he said because it was your own money that is was simply a camp donation-"

"No. I don't care what Dutch says. The debt is paid. You leave this woman alone and her husband."

He didn't hear the other man approach. Strauss glanced to the side, and then he heard, "Arthur! That's enough."

Arthur turned and took in the black jacket and vest, the red pocket square, the perfectly groomed mustache and hair. Dutch van der Linde stared down at Arthur like a parent breaking up a children's squabble. "Now, Arthur," he began. "You know how this works. Strauss lends money, they have to pay it back. Not you."

"And if they can't pay it back, I'm supposed to beat it out of them, is that right?"

"I never said you had to-"

"No, not in those words exactly. But you did say get them to pay up. You knew exactly what you were sending me to do. Well, not this time. I paid their debt. It wasn't a donation, it was their debt money. Leave them be." Dutch opened his mouth to speak again, but Arthur beat him to it, turning to Mrs. Downes and saying, "You get out of here. I'll make certain they leave you alone."

"Thank you," she said, making a fast exit.

Dutch's lips pulled back into a smile that was closer to a snarl. "Fine, we'll forget the Downes debt if that makes you happy. Now if you are finished with your little vacation, there's money to be made."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I ain't going back." Hosea was right, he had already decided. He decided weeks ago, when he refused to collect the Downes debt in the first place. Seeing Dutch again just made everything more clear.

Dutch's hand landed on his shoulder, the grip firm and almost painful, as the man he viewed as a father tried to drag him in the direction of camp. "Of course you are coming back, son."

"I said no," Arthur replied, twisting out of Dutch's grasp. He knew that he sounded like a little kid but he didn't care. And it was finally sinking into Dutch's mind that Arthur was serious.

"After all these years… loyalty, Arthur. That is all I asked for… loyalty and faith." For a second, Arthur felt a sliver of fear settle in his chest, but then Dutch backed off. "Fine, you want to go it alone? Think you can survive without me? You'll come crawling back soon, I know it. They all do! But if you get picked up by the law, don't expect me to ride in and rescue you!" Dutch turned and walked down the street towards the other saloon. "Let's go, Mr. Strauss."

Once they were out of view, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. He turned back to the general store and saw Albert watching. "You alright?" the photographer asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Who were they? Old friends? Enemies?"

"More like family," Arthur said.

"Ah, so one in the same?" Albert chuckled, trying to make a weak joke, but it didn't quite land.

"We had a falling out," Arthur admitted.

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"I would say let's drink and forget, but I don't think I'll be touching alcohol again for a while," said Albert. That got a proper laugh out of Arthur. "Come on, let's talk about something else. How should I go about getting pictures of eagles? You are the expert, after all!"

"How willing are you to cage a small animal just outside the camera frame?"

"Wait, what?"

"Eagles might go for a rabbit, but they'll fly in fast."

They sat on the bench for a while, laughing about ways they could get Albert his photograph. A while later, they heard some shouting up the road. Albert ignored it, but something struck Arthur as being off. He strained his ears, trying to catch the syllables floating through the air, but couldn't reach the meaning.

But the gunshots that followed were clear! A few screams went up from near the gun store, and people began running down in their direction. Arthur moved closer to the sound, his own revolver drawn and ready to defend himself. "What's going on?" asked Albert, trailing behind.

"Al, get inside," Arthur said.

"What are you doing?"

"Get inside!" Arthur turned and shoved Albert towards the saloon. Four men moved towards a wagon sitting in the road and took cover behind it. Several more townspeople were still running frantically like cornered prey, and Arthur directed them to the saloon as well. Lawmen appeared throughout the street, both on rooftops and on the ground. The group of outlaws began to push the wagon, using it as cover while taking out the lawmen in their way. Arthur couldn't believe how stupid they were being! They were at the edge of town. Disappearing into the trees would have been easy!

A woman suddenly tried to run past him. He caught her around the waist. "Go to the saloon, it's safe," he said.

"No, my daughter!" she cried. She pointed at a little girl crouched behind a barrel, tears streaming down her face and eyes clenched shut.

"I'll get her," Arthur said. He stayed low, running as fast as he could to the barrel and scooping the girl into his arms. As he stood, he caught the eye one of the outlaws pushing the wagon, dressed in all black with dark hair, and a red pocket square. Dutch stared at Arthur, wild and angry. Arthur didn't have time to wonder what stupid plan Dutch had gotten himself into this time. He had to protect this child from yet another one of Dutch's mistakes. With his shoulders hunched over to protect her whole body, he sprinted to the saloon porch.

He almost made it.

The bullet hit his back, up near his shoulder, and he stumbled a few steps from the door. Fear and pain crashed through him, he wasn't going to make it! But hands reached around the door frame and yanked him inside, even as he fell to his knees. People were in front of him. One tried to pry the little girl from his grip. His whole body suddenly felt like lead.

"Arthur! Arthur, are you alright? Were you hit?" Albert's face was in front of his own, but it was getting dark and blurry, no matter how hard he blinked and squinted, until his entire vision just went black.