There were numerous possibilities as to how last night could have ended, you groggily recalled, but being laughed at and mocked at by Arthur Morgan was one of the things you least expected.
"My heart, Mr. Morgan. My heart is in a million pieces."
It took a few good seconds, Arthur shifting his head from you to the direction of John's cabin and back to you – he had figured it out, an oh-that-explains-things expression on his face.
"[Y/N], you are young, smart, and capable of a lot of things; I can see that. But I didn't take you for being capable of making the biggest idiot of yourself." He was suppressing his laugh but could not hold it any longer as he spoke the last few words of his sentence. He snorted boisterously. He was still laughing as he exited the room cabin. Well, that certainly entertained him for the night.
You rubbed your eyes. Your head throbbed like hell. Now you were regretting all that whiskey you drunk and Javier's coaxing you take 'one for the road.'
You groaned and you felt like puking. You wanted to stay longer in bed, bury yourself under the sheets (hoping the others would just forget about you and your drunken folly last night), and just nurse this hangover until it vanishes. But you knew if you don't get your ass up, Ms. Grimshaw would storm here any minute now to give you a hell of an earful.
You got up and straightened yourself up and tidied your hair. You made your way to get some breakfast before you started your day. You squinted, as your eyes transitioned from the dimness of your cabin to the sunlight outside – at least the weather's looking better today than yesterday. You just hoped you didn't bump into anyone from last night.
You saw Javier with his rifle on hand. He was on guard duty. His face lit up as he saw you approaching.
"Ah, such a lovely face!" he teased you, fondly recalling your company last night over fire and whiskey. "How are you, Chulita?" he kidded you, knowing fully well you are hung over from last night.
"Like shit, Javier." You answered. He laughed satisfyingly at your demise. He quite enjoyed toying with you.
You went inside and saw Arthur Morgan sitting by the fire. The girls were there too, huddled together.
Fucking great, ain't it! Just your luck. Do you think he's forgotten all about it?
"Here you go, dear." Mary-Beth handed you a piece of bread and cup of coffee.
"You could just sit here, y'know." Arthur slyly remarked. Your paranoid self swore he could burst out laughing any minute now. Without much choice, you accepted his offer and carefully seated yourself next to him.
You lost your appetite but pretending to nibble on the stale bread and sipping on the tepid coffee did help make it look like nothing was bothering you.
"Don't worry, Ma'am. Your secret's safe with me." Arthur poked you gently as he gave you a mischievous wink. You heard him laugh again and you blushed in embarrassment, causing you to accidentally swallow a rather big chunk of bread. Before you could say anything in response, Arthur stood up, still amused at your revelation from the night before, and bid the ladies farewell. Dutch was waiting for him, something you heard about going after the O'Driscolls and hitting them first before his gang hit you.
You scanned the room, finishing your piece of bread and sipping what's left of your cup. You noticed an unfamiliar face huddled among the ladies. She had blonde hair and brown eyes. She looked like a hardened woman, but at her current state, she had seen better days. A few years older than you, you assumed. She must be the woman they rescued from the O'Driscolls a few nights ago. Poor thing – and to think just around a year ago, that was you – traumatised at the sight of your father's execution at the hands of the O'Driscolls and couldn't stop crying for days on end.
Javier was among the first to befriend you. He tried his best to cheer you up and give you some sense of normalcy after all you've been through. When he wasn't out running 'errands' with the others, robbing homesteads or stagecoaches, he'd take you fishing with him.
On occasions, John hung out with you and Javier, and that's when you found yourself slowly falling for John Marston – how could you not though? He was handsome and he wore that smile that made you crumble and melt inside, and he gave you that playful look with his eyes, whenever the three of you were up to no good or just hanging around the camp.
The people around always remarked he wasn't the brightest, but he did make you laugh when he joked around you, and at times, when he innocently flirted with you. And although, you had the biggest crush on him, you have constantly tried your best to never let his seemingly innocent playfulness with you mean anything else.
"He's like that with other women." You shrugged.
A few days after you've settled in your new home, Dutch handed you over your dad's medical bag – it was among the few things they were able to 'salvage' from your dad's clinic. He thought you'd like to have it as a keepsake. Lucky for him and the rest of the Van der Linde gang, you picked up a couple of things from watching your dad work. He taught you everything you know – from poultices and tonics to stitching wounds. You were thankful for that and you'd like to believe that Dutch and the rest are as well. It gave you purpose. At least when Dutch took you in under his wing, it didn't feel like you were just another mouth to feed.
You brushed the breadcrumbs off your skirt. As much as you disliked it, you offered to wash the dishes for the day. Figured you could simply fade into the background that way and helped keep Ms. Grimshaw off your back, at least for now. You did try arguing with her at first, making your case that you shouldn't be doing dishes or laundry anymore, as you mended the wounded, but she was having none of it.
"I appreciate the work that you do, Ms. [Y/N], I really do. But it's not every day you are mending the wounded, is it?" she snapped back at you, and you never dared argue with her ever again.
And here you are now, washing dishes.
"Washing dishes…the exciting life of an outlaw" you chuckled remembering Tilly's usual quips.
Your head was still hurting, and you were lost in thought when you felt a tug in your skirt. You looked to see what or who it was and surprised to see little Jack.
"What is it, Jack?"
"Mama told me to tell you that you left your bag in our cabin."