Author's Note: I won't lie, I've wanted to work Mister Pearson into this story since the very beginning, and as soon as I realized one of the prompts was about soup... well, obvious prompt is obvious. He was a bit of a challenge to write for, but I enjoyed it a lot.

Pearson's such an underrated character, and while I'm happy he gets a pretty "normal" life at the end, I hate that in-game we only "meet" Ethel by her yelling at him through the ceiling from upstairs. I feel like he deserves better. So for the purposes of this AU we're going to go with Ethel being a kind wife and a loving mother instead of the horrible nagging shrew we hear in the Epilogue. Mmkay? Mmkay.

Day 10 Prompt: Warm Soup After Being In the Cold

Rhodes General Store, Rhodes, LE - December 10, 1910

"Will that be all for you today, Mrs. MacGregor?"

"I think that'll do it."

"Alright then, you have yourself a nice night, now. Get home safe!"

"Thank you, Mr. Pearson. You enjoy yours too. Tell Ethel and Meggie I said hello!"

"I sure will, thank you!"

He waited until Mrs. MacGregor had made it safely down the front steps before locking the door behind her, then dimmed the lights before moving back behind the counter to total the day's receipts. Today had been a good sales day, and he'd turned a fair profit. That was usually the case this time of year, though. Folk tended to flock down to warm, dry places like Rhodes in the winter to escape from the misery of the snow and slush farther north, and with the increased number of visitors came more customers for his general store. The opposite was true in the summer, though, with those same people who loved Rhodes in winter fleeing north from June to September to escape the oppressive heat that baked the red earth until it cracked.

December in particular was always a busy month. With the Christmas holiday getting closer, everyone was looking for something special, whether that be a little gift to let a loved one know they were thinking of them, pen and ink for the annual Christmas letter, or some extra pantry staples and special treats for when friends and family came to visit. He always enjoyed how happy everyone in town seemed around the holidays, too. Rhodes was a much less depressing place now than it had been back when the gang had made their home at Clemens Point. (That may have been because the gang wound up destroying both of the feuding families who had kept the place under their thumbs for generations, but that was beside the point.) Whatever the reason, the atmosphere here was calm these days, pleasant even, and he was more than happy to call it his home.

Once he'd double-checked his numbers, he pulled the cash drawer from the register and put it in the safe along with the ledger, making sure it was locked down tight. Tonight was Saturday night, so the bank would be closed tomorrow; he'd have to make the deposit first thing Monday morning. Now, though, it was time to finish his other duty for the day: cooking supper before Ethel and Meggie got home.

His wife and daughter had left early that morning to visit Ethel's mother, Shirlene, who still lived in the little cabin near Ringneck Creek where she had grown up. Meggie always loved visiting her grandmother; Simon did too, truth be told. She was a lovely woman, as sweet and kind as could be, and a few minutes around her was all it took to see where Ethel had gotten her own gentle disposition from. But the shop wasn't going to tend itself, and it just didn't make sense to close down on a Saturday during their most profitable month of the year. So he'd sent them both off that morning with a hug and a kiss, promising he'd handle dinner and telling them to stay at Shirlene's a little longer to make up for his absence instead.

He made his way upstairs into their modest house, which occupied the second floor above the shop. He'd taken a short break a couple of hours ago to run upstairs and prepare the dough for their bread, and the first thing he did when he walked into the kitchen was check to make sure it had risen enough to bake. It had, thankfully, so he quickly slid it into the oven and then got to work chopping meat for a stew. He was feeling a little nostalgic tonight; this time of year always got him thinking about the old days, and his time with the gang. He still kept in contact with a few of them, some more often than others, and he was ecstatic that so many of them had moved on and found their happiness, in new places and with new people.

But he would be lying if he said he didn't sometimes miss the freedom he'd felt back then, too. Things hadn't been easy for any of them, far from it, but there had been a camaraderie among the members of the Van der Linde gang that he'd never encountered anywhere else, even in the Navy. Poor and desperate as they were, they were also family, and he had loved them all as if they'd been his flesh and blood - with one notable exception, but thankfully he had met his end over a decade ago in this very town. It had taken several months of aimless wandering after the dissolution of the gang before he'd settled down in Rhodes, less from a desire to settle there specifically and more from a lack of interest in anywhere else.

Then by chance he'd seen the owner of the general store was looking to retire, and on a lark he used his share of the Blackwater money to buy him out. He soon fell into a comfortable rhythm of running the shop each day, getting more familiar with the town of Rhodes and finding himself making new friends for the first time in a long time. After a year or two, he actually began to think he might even want to put some roots down here. In 1902 he'd met Ethel at a small party in the parlor house, and was instantly smitten. By some miracle she'd felt the same way, and by the end of the year they were married and living together in his little house above the shop. Their daughter, Margaret Shirlene Pearson, was born in the spring of 1904 (although the only one who called her Margaret was her mother, and only when she was in trouble. Otherwise it was always Meggie.) After that, there was no question - for better or worse, Simon Pearson's roots were well and truly planted in the red dirt of Rhodes.

"Leave her Johnny, leave her! Oh leave her Johnny, leave her!" he sang to himself as he finished browning the beef and mushrooms and added them to the pot to simmer. His eyes landed on the old, yellowing photo of the gang he'd hung up on the wall years ago, and he smiled softly. "For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow, and it's time for us to leave her!"

He was finishing up the last verse of another shanty when the door to the upstairs balcony swung open, and a small voice called excitedly across the house.

"Papa, Papa!"

"Meggie, my girl!" he greeted his daughter, stepping out of the kitchen to meet her halfway as she dashed across the living room. He picked her up and spun her around, placing a scratchy kiss on her cheek that made her giggle before setting her gently down on the floor. "How was your visit with Grandma?"

"It was great! She let me help her make jam, and showed me how to do... uh... crops-stitching. Oh! And she made a new doll for me, but she said it has to stay there so I always have one to play with if I forget mine here again."

"Wow, sounds like a full day!"

"Yeah!" Meggie said, nodding so hard her red braids bounced against her back. "She said she missed you, though, and that you'd better come see her with us next time or she won't send you any more cookies."

"Oh, is that so? Well I guess I'd better listen, then, huh? Your grandma's not a lady I want angry with me."

"No, she certainly isn't," Ethel said as she made her way into the house, smiling softly at the pair of them. "Here, Meggie, take off your coat and mittens and hang them up, and then you can go wash up for supper."

"Yes, Mama!" Meggie did so as quickly as she could, still full of that seemingly boundless energy that was unique to small children. Once she'd hung her garments on the rack, she walked as fast as possible to the bathroom to wash her face and hands (but still slow enough not to be called running, so her mother couldn't scold her for running in the house). Her parents just shook their heads and chuckled in amusement as they watched her go.

"It was a little chillier than I expected at this time of year," Ethel said as she removed her own coat and hat and hung them beside Meggie's. "I've heard it's been awful in the Heartlands and Roanoke Ridge, fresh snow almost every day and cold as a witch's... well."

"Guess that just means more people headed our way, eh?" Simon said with a wink, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her in to give her a peck on the cheek. "Better for business."

"Mm, that's true. But you know, you really ought to think about coming along next time we go to see Mama. I know you hate closing the store down, but she really does love seeing you, and she always asks about you when you aren't there."

"I still can't imagine why, but I'm flattered. Shirlene's a sweet woman."

"Because you're my husband, for one," she answered easily, following him into the kitchen as he gave the stew one last quick stir. "And you're a kind, devoted man, and the father of her granddaughter. And besides all that, I think all your songs and stories remind her of my daddy, and she loved him the way I love you."

He paused, considering that. Ethel's father had passed a few years before they ever met, but he'd apparently been a Navy man himself, and an all-around respectable sort of fellow.

"I'm not saying it has to be every time," Ethel continued. "After all, I know money doesn't grow on trees, and I appreciate everything you do to put bread on this table - and stew." She gave him a knowing look, well aware that he only ever made what Meggie had dubbed "Papa's Wild West Stew" when he was feeling a little sentimental. "Just consider it once in a while, that's all I'm asking. You're a hard worker, and a great provider, and we all love that about you. But more than that, we just love you, and it's not the same when you're not there with us. Don't forget that."

"Okay," he said quietly, not quite sure how to handle how warm her words made him feel. "I'll, uh... definitely think on it. Promise."

"Thank you." Ethel ladled the stew into three bowls and carried them to the table, slicing a piece of fresh bread for each of them too. "And Meggie wasn't kidding, by the way. Mama really did send a whole batch of cookies home with us. I figured we could have some of them for dessert."

"Cookies?" asked the little girl in question, rounding the kitchen door just in time to catch the end of the exchange. "Can we really eat some tonight, Mama?"

"Yes, but only if you finish your dinner."

"What is for dinner?" she asked, standing on her tip-toes to look into the bowls on the table. When she saw them, her eyes lit up. "Ooooh! Papa, you made Wild West Stew?"

He chuckled, pulling back a chair so she could sit down before pushing it in and doing the same for Ethel. "Yeah, Sweetheart. Stew seemed like a good choice on a cold day, don't you think?"

"Mm-hmm," Meggie hummed, unable to speak for a moment as she took an enormous bite. After chewing and swallowing, she added, "Stew's always a good choice."

"Well," he thought as he grinned and took a bite from his own bowl, "no one will ever have to wonder if she's my daughter or not, that's for sure."

As soon as they cleared the table, Meggie went to her room to change into her nightdress. Just seconds later they heard her little voice drifting through the door, and he had to cover his mouth to stifle a laugh when he realized she was belting out the lyrics to one of his favorite sea shanties clear as day.

"Just what have you been teaching that girl?" Ethel teased, nudging him with her elbow as they sat down on the sofa and listened to their daughter's enthusiastic singing.

"Only the most important things, my dear. Only the most important things."

Lying in bed that night, with his wife held close in his arms and his daughter sleeping soundly just a room away, he reflected on their conversation, and on exactly how lucky he really was. He may not have ever imagined his life turning out this way, being a shopkeeper instead of a sailor and a family man instead of a naval man. But this, right here, was exactly where he needed to be, and where he wanted to be. He would always miss the old days just a little. The things that mattered most, though, the important things, were the ones only his family could give him, and he had them all in spades.

Simon Pearson's roots were planted in Rhodes, now, as deep as they could get. And whether they got there by choice or by chance, he didn't care; he wouldn't have it any other way.

Notes: I had a lot of fun with this chapter, and I hope you guys did too. It's nice to visit some of the "ancillary" gang members and imagine what they're up to (obviously in Pearson's case and some of the others we know generally what they're up to, but it's fun to dive deeper.)

We'll be visiting some more gang members in future chapters, too, but for Chapter 11 we'll be going back in time a bit to visit the "old guard" in their younger days. The prompt is "Going Ice Skating," and I hope to have it up tonight or tomorrow. See you then! :D