Chapter Text
The warm glow of the rising sun peeks through the windows of the Rhodes Hotel. You had been staying in Rhodes for quite a while; normally, you would have moved location by now.
You flip over onto your back with a soft groan escaping your lips as your eyes flutter open. Birds chirp outside as you sit upon the edge of the stiff bed, wiping your eyes before getting ready.
Slipping on some brown pants with a black plaid shirt – leaving a couple of buttons undone at the top, as it was a rather warm day in Lemoyne. Putting on your brown and scruffy cowboy hat, your copper boots, and lastly, your satchel and holster.
After sliding your pistol into your holster, you swing the old door open and walk down the hallway and down the creaking stairs which led into the bustling saloon. Even early in the day, people scurried into the saloon for a drink. Pushing the Saloon doors open into the humid air of Rhodes, you took a deep breath of fresh air before turning towards your horse.
A small smile curls the edges of your lips as you gently pat your horse's chestnut coat, “Morning Penny.” You say softly as the horse huffs. You dig through the satchel placed on your horse to find an apple, feeding it to her before swinging your leg over Penny’s back. You adjust your position on the saddle before giving her a quick pat on the neck and giving her a nudge in the stomach with your heel to move forward through the streets of Rhodes.
Before leaving the small town, you decide to hitch your horse outside the general store. Before making your way into the general store, you saw a woman who looked well off standing on her own. Her big bag was placed at the side of her feet. Seeing this, you decide to take advantage of it.
You walk behind her and gently nudge her bag closer to you before opening it quietly and diving your hand in to find anything. Your hand lands on a money clip and some valuable-looking earrings.
A smirk tugs at your lips before closing the bag and putting it back where it was. Stuffing the valuables into your satchel, you finally enter the general store. You were low on arrows as you had been hunting a lot lately.
You examine the store while looking around, looking for the arrows. Your eyes settled on some candy – glancing over to the shopkeeper to make sure he wasn’t looking – you wrapped your fingers around the small packet and slipped it into your satchel.
You then saw the arrows set on a shelf among other ammunition. You pick up around 10 arrows and travel towards the counter, placing the arrows down.
The shopkeeper counts the arrows with a bored expression on his face, “That’ll be $2.”
He murmured. You poke around in your satchel before your hand grasps a few coins, then scatter them onto the counter before picking up the arrows and walking out towards your horse, tying the arrows onto the bow that rested on your horse.
I should move to a new location today.
You thought. Whipping out your map from your battered satchel and unfolding it, being cautious not to rip the flimsy piece of paper further. After scanning the map, your eyes settle on a town called Valentine in New Hanover. You’ve been there before; you remember visiting the town with Arthur Morgan when you were in the Van Der Linde gang.
Arthur Morgan.
Your heart aches at the memory; your mind always seemed to draw back to Arthur. You let out a rough sigh as you try to forget it.
It's been 11 years, get a grip.
Your thoughts shout at you as you hop onto Penny. Even though it's been over a decade since leaving the Van Der Linde gang, your heart still stung whenever the old memories crossed your mind – and that was almost every day.
You tried to set your mind off it as you nudged your horse into a light trot; the ride to Valentine was going to be a long one. You hummed a song under your breath as you travelled along the path towards New Hanover – your mind still drifting to Arthur.
You rubbed your hand over your face with a frustrated groan before grasping the reins again. It made you think back to when you first joined the gang at 16, you were scared and a little confused at the new environment.
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You rode into the camp on the back of Dutch’s horse, holding him firmly as you had never been on a horse before. He halted and jumped off the beast before helping you down. “This’ll be your new home, until we move again.” Dutch chimed with a grin.
A man walked over; he seemed older than Dutch. “Who's this?” The man inquired.
“Y/N, this is Hosea Matthews. Hosea, this Y/N, found her in an alleyway in Blackwater about to get robbed before I stepped in.” Dutch explained, and the last part he said a bit more quietly. You hadn’t peeped a word since Blackwater; the past week or so had been dreadful for you. You didn't know who these strange men were, so it was only normal for you to be a little unnerved.
Hosea led you to the campfire and sat you down on a tree log, bringing over some hot food – meat and potatoes. “It's not much, I know, but it'll do,” Hosea said with a warm smile as he patted you on the back gently.
He strolled over to Dutch, and they had a hushed conversation that you couldn't overhear. As you dug into the food, a sigh of relief rippled through your throat; this was the first decent meal you’ve had in a long while.
That's when your eyes drifted towards a man who looked to be in his early 20s, chopping firewood. You hadn't realised you were staring until you locked eyes with him as he put the axe down. You quickly averted your gaze to the empty plate in your hands.
The man's Footsteps grew closer until he sat down next to you on the log. “Did Dutch bring ye here?” He said, his voice surprisingly soft, given his rugged appearance. You answered with a simple nod.
“I'm Arthur, Arthur Morgan. You are?” he asked.
“Y/N.” You squeaked.
The corner of Arthur's lip curled up in a soft smirk. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'll set you up a place to sleep t’night, alright? You rest up.” He spoke. You seemed to remind him of when Dutch and Hosea brought him under their wing when he was just a boy.
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You rode into Valentine, and the sun had started to set once you got to the main road. Your eyes gazed up at the signs of the various buildings surrounding you, looking for the hotel. You found the said building on the corner nearest the stables, hitching your horse outside.
You walked up to the wooden building and to the counter, “Can I take a room and a bath, please?” You requested of the man behind the counter. You slid some coins across the surface towards him.
“Bath is down that hall to your left.” The man nods towards the hall as he takes the coins. You murmur a thank you before heading down the hallway and into the bathing room. You stripped yourself of your clothes and slipped into the bath with a sigh. The water was so warm and cosy.
You scrubbed your limbs one by one, taking your time and enjoying the bath; you hadn't had the money for a proper wash for a while, but since you found a money clip in that woman's bag, you thought you'd treat yourself. It felt like you were in that bath for an hour until you stood up and stepped out of the bath. You dried yourself with a towel and put your clothes back on before heading upstairs to your room.
Opening the creaking door, you could see the sun being engulfed by the horizon through the misty windows. You set your satchel onto the bed and your hat onto the dresser, as putting your hat on the bed was widely known to be bad luck – and you weren't playing around with that, knowing how bad your luck has been lately already.
You jump onto the bed with a sigh of relief. Although the bed was stiff, it still felt so good after a long day on a horse. You got dressed and sat in bed, grabbing your old journal out of your satchel.
I haven't opened this old thing in a long time.
You thought. You opened the journal and saw a page with the corner folded. You furrow your eyebrows in curiosity with a small smile before flipping to the page.
April 16th, 1888
Your smile drops at the familiar date. The day you left the gang.
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Your hand trembles as you write on the piece of paper. The note you were to leave by Arthur's sleeping body before leaving forever. You sat on a seat next to yours and Arthur's tent, a long groan leaving your lips as you put your face in your hands.
“What have you got there?” Arthur's voice rips you out of your thoughts as you fold the piece of paper so he can't see anything on the nearly blank page.
“It's uh... It's nothing. Just trying to put my thoughts on a page.” You mumbled under your breath as you looked up at Arthur
Arthur crossed his arms before he pulled over a wooden crate from nearby to sit on next to you. “Have you been alright? I mean, you've seemed off or distant lately. Everythin’ alright darlin’?” He asked, Worry underlining his voice.
You divert your gaze elsewhere as you answer, “I'm fine, Arthur, really. Just the workload Dutch has been giving us, I suppose.” You lie between your teeth.
Arthur stays quiet for a minute, “Look at me.” He ordered, his calloused fingertips settling on your chin, pulling your face towards him as you meet his gaze. “Y’know you can tell me anythin’, right?” he whispered to you.
“I know, baby.” A small smile stretches your lips.
He nods, “It's getting late now, you get to sleep. I'll meet ya in bed after I do some things ‘round camp.” He gets to his feet and presses a soft kiss on my lips that lingers a little longer than a small peck would.
He moves to help move some sacks to Pearson’s wagon as you enter the tent. Guilt rips at your chest, knowing what you're going to do tonight. It broke you to leave Arthur, but you knew he wasn't going to leave this gang anytime soon, and you needed to get out of this gang – it always just felt suffocating to work for Dutch.
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You snap the journal closed before any more memories flood back of that date, you chucked the journal onto the bedside table and crawled into the sheets. You did not need to think about what happened later that night with Arthur after placing that god-forsaken note.
You closed your eyes and tried to get some sleep for what felt like hours before you fell asleep. Even after you fell asleep, you still woke up feeling restless and agitated.
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ARTHUR’S POV
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His gloved hands held onto the reins, the wagon jolting at every small rock that the wheels passed over. Hosea sat next to him, and Charles sat in the back amongst the many items that they were moving to the new camp location.
Arthur felt his body getting increasingly warmer as his blue coat covered him; travelling from a secluded snowy region to a relatively sunny and green one would do that when you're still wrapped in multiple layers. A huff left his lips as he undid the buttons on his coat.
The others went ahead of the three, as they had to fix a wheel that had broken off the old, rusted wagon earlier. “Should be through here, right?” Arthur questioned, nodding towards a path that led through some trees.
“Yeah, just through these trees here,” Charles responded flatly.
Arthur steered the horses down the path and through the trees, spotting the others starting to set up camp. He parked the wagon next to the others and hopped off, immediately fighting to get his thick coat and gloves off, laying them down where his tent was placed.
After taking a swig of water, he went to help unload the wagons.”So, what do ya think of this spot, son?” Dutch barked as he slid alongside Arthur to unload the last wagon.
“Better than that damn mining town.” Arthur muttured with a grunt, placing the last wooden crate down onto the floor next to the others. ”Bring that crate over to Pearson's wagon so he can start making some food, will ya? I’m starvin’.” Dutch demanded with a small grin before strolling over to his own tent.
Arthur grabbed the crate with both hands with a groan and carried it over to the wagon as Dutch requested. Once he set it down, he brushed his rough hands together and made his way to his tent, sitting on the edge of his makeshift bed before changing into an outfit that did not include as many layers.
Before Arthur could relax, Dutch shouted from his tent to bring everyone over for one of his speeches. With a sigh, Arthur got back on his feet and walked over as everyone else did. Standing with his hands on his belt, Dutch started speaking about how everyone will need to earn their keep.
It was understandable; these were rough times. The camp was short on money by a long shot, and if they wanted to start a new life, they would need to work hard.
“There's a Town a little way down the track, name of Valentine, livestock town. All mud and morons if I remember right. That seems like a decent place to start.” Hosea announced to everyone, which piqued Arthur’s interest.
The path down to Horseshoe Overlook seemed familiar, but he just ignored it as everywhere felt familiar by now. But the name Valentine made him wonder where he’d heard that name before.
Everyone scattered around the camp to either work or rest after the long journey. Arthur made his way towards Hosea, “Hey Hosea, have we been here before? The name Valentine rings some bells, but I can't seem to remember.” He inquired.
“Yes, I believe we have been ‘round here before. It was years ago, though - back when it was just me, Dutch, you and... her.” Hosea’s voice goes a bit quieter in the last part; he knew she was a sensitive subject for him to say the least.
Arthur froze, but tried to play it off, “Ah, I see. Yknow you don't have to avoid speakin’ about.. Her around me. It was over a decade ago, Hosea.” His jaw tensed subtly. He hated that every time she came up, Hosea and Dutch looked at him as if he were a lost puppy - it made him feel vulnerable.
Hosea nodded hesitantly, “Are you sure? I know your history with her. I didn't want to remind you of those times.” He muttered.
“I’m aware of what happened. I don't need to be babied.” Arthur's voice was coarse as he tried to mask the gnawing feeling in his chest. Before the conversation could develop, Arthur walked off to his tent and sat on his bed as he set his hat onto the crate beside his bed.
Wiping a frustrated hand over his face, the sun began to set over the distant mountains. The buzzing camp quieted down as people went to rest at their designated bedrolls. Before he went to sleep, he walked over to a stump positioned on the edge of the camp and sat down on it.
After a few minutes, everyone seemed to be asleep or resting their eyes. Arthur watched the horizon, his eyes drifting between the flowing river below, the towering mountains and the swaying trees that decorated the river.
This location was a lot better than the snow-capped mountains they were holed up in before. Arthur took a deep breath and listened to the sound of nature which surrounded them. Everyone was a lot happier here than in the abandoned mining town named Colter.
Arthur grabbed his journal from his satchel, opening it to a blank page before he started to write.
“We got off the mountain and rode east into some pretty enough country called the Heartlands. Ain’t been this far east in many a year. Think the last time I was around here was 1887, when it was just the four of us. Were placed right next to a town named Valentine.
Not looking forward to stepping into that town once again, knowing the memories that place holds. Then again, I’ve been travelling since I was a boy, so every town holds memories of mine that I can't seem to let go of.
Dutch seems a little better. His eyes are sparkling once more, and I can see he’s thinking a little clearer. I think we all feel a little happier, spite of Blackwater and that whole mess.
Shutting the journal with a soft thump, Arthur made his way back to his tent. A yawn rips through his throat before getting ready to sleep. He lies down and rests his eyes. It took a while for him to finally fall asleep, but it seemed every night was like that since you left.