#cloudynoiire

A long sigh escaped you as you dwelled over whether you'd just misjudged the situation, and whether riding out on your own to the nearest town, away from your outlaw family was your fault, and yours alone. Despite that, you couldn't help but harbor some contempt towards Javier. After all, he was the one who'd taken it up a level, when you were trying to keep it under wraps. You turned your nose up slightly as your mount finally plodded into Valentine, both at the smell of sheep, and at the fact that you were making your own self feel unworthy of being part of the gang. Hosea did enough of that, you didn't need your own head to do so too.

The mud squelched under your horse's hooves as you neared the hotel, and though you weren't too squeamish when it came to mud and other dirt, you had to acknowledge that you only had a small supply of clothing on you. You inched your horse as close as you could to the hotel steps and slid off the saddle, grabbing your suitcase off the back of the animal and leading it over to the hitching post where it'd spend its first night. You remembered the story Hosea once told about his saddle being stolen outside a saloon back in the day, and while you didn't want that to happen to you, you didn't have it in you right at that moment to do anything more about it than give it a minute's thought.

Boarding a horse was expensive, and besides, you were hoping not to be away from home for so long that you even needed to board your horse at all.

The hotel door swung open with a quiet creak as you entered what would be your new home for the foreseeable, and after asking if any rooms were available, you were directed up the stairs and to the end of the hallway. Reality kicked in even harder once you'd put your suitcase down and sat on the bed to take a look around. The room was quiet, devoid of personality, and the lack of snoring and cricket song that you'd grown oh so accustomed to would be sorely missed for the duration of your stay, as indefinite as it was now starting to feel.

It was late morning when you woke up, and after a quick trip to the general store opposite, you returned to your room where you had your breakfast, alone, in that awful uncomfortable silence. See, you usually liked the silence and having some time to yourself, but you'd quickly come to the understanding that you only liked it when you lived within a gang of 20+ people, because in that environment, a moment to yourself was pure bliss.

In this instance, you'd had no choice.

You'd had your gang taken away, and with the gang went the noise, the fun, the routines, and the feeling that you'd actually found your people. You couldn't imagine life without them anymore, and this isolation that'd been forced upon you was truly making you see that.

A moment to reflect was all that Hosea wanted for you. To take a step back and feel the things that you were currently feeling. To realize how silly your quarrels were when they could cost you your life as you knew it. To confirm through this awkward silence that going it alone was something you really did not want, for you'd done enough running on your own. The gang was where you were meant to be now, and where Hosea and the rest wanted you to be too, so if you were to stay, you'd have to work out your differences with Javier once and for all.

At least, that's what you speculated, because the gang didn't just cut people loose for their wrongdoings.

Dutch had imposed a rule and stuck by it for as many years as the gang had been active. "Once a traitor, always a traitor", and by Dutch's rules a traitor was to be done away with. And, who was to say that you wouldn't betray them were they to just let you go? Why wouldn't you run to the Pinkertons and save your own hide by giving them the 20+ bodies they chased relentlessly, now that they'd shut you out? Revenge stories like these were not uncommon in the outlaw world, though if the Pinkertons didn't go back on their word about guaranteeing your safety for intel, the gang themselves would sure come after you for treason were they to avoid the law's clutches.

Either way you'd be screwed. The Pinkertons couldn't be trusted, even if you complied to their demands. You were an outlaw, after all. The scum of the earth to them. Now it went without saying that you were sure you'd never do such a thing to your newly found, though dearly beloved family, and you hoped the gang knew that too, but people can change in the blink of an eye. They'd seen it happen before and they were sure it would happen again at some point in time. Such is the way of outlaws.

You took solace in the thought that if the gang truly wanted to be rid of you, they wouldn't take the risk of just letting you walk alive. It was for this that you felt that their words were a little hollow, but that didn't stop those hollow words from still being rather unsettling in their own right. For all you knew they could be plotting ways to be rid of you, though exile would be as good as anything. Forcing you out with no food, drink, shelter or any other basic human needs in the cold and often rainy Heartlands was as good as doing away with you directly.

Your nose scrunched as your mind wandered, there were far too many ways that these next few days could play out, and your stomach only sank further as you truly began to feel like the reason you were sat alone in a boring yet somewhat cosy hotel room was because of your own poor judgment. You'd let your feelings cloud your vision, a classic case of female hysteria as many men might have put it. If only you'd welcomed the smile Javier had given you at the campfire the night before, for it was presented to you so softly, without a touch of malice.

If only you'd sat yourself down on that log beside Charles and asked him about his day instead of losing yourself to your thoughts. While you did believe there was still an ounce of credibility to them, your mind was becoming clearer to the situation. Javier wasn't the type for power play, he had no reason for it. He was thankful for the people he'd been so graciously welcomed in by, and the resources they spared him to survive alongside them. A lot more than he would've had, had he not stumbled into Dutch that one fateful night.

You swallowed thickly. What had you done?

Maybe a stroll out to see the horses in the small holding pens by the stable could be on the cards for you today, or going to check for any familiar faces on the newly pinned bounty posters outside the sheriff's office. Truth be told, there wasn't much of you that actually wanted to leave the room at all, but with the way your thoughts were running away with you, you deemed it in your best interest to stay occupied.

But what if someone called for you and you weren't in to receive the verdict, would they search for you? You didn't imagine they'd take the time out of their day to do so for someone they currently held in low esteem - if anyone even came at all. Nevertheless, you deduced they'd be happier to come to a room and find you waiting rather than having to search all of Valentine for you, so maybe here is where you'd stay, at least for a little while longer.

With the only thing left available to you that you hadn't yet exhausted in the few short hours of your hotel room occupancy being a book you'd packed, you picked it up and turned it over to read the title. You hadn't checked before leaving camp, you'd just thrown it in your suitcase in a fit of rage, disappointment and upset, and lo and behold, it was a romantic poem book, of all things.

You opened the book halfway through and tried to focus on the poem that your eyes had been drawn to, but those same eyes were seeing words on a page, and nothing more. Words that your brain just wasn't taking in, and instead the words that your head was taking in, and unfortunately starting to obsess over again, were the last words you'd heard out of Javier's mouth before your untimely exile. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I left this morning with you-" he'd huffed, hurt in his voice now that hindsight had been bestowed upon you.

Night finally fell upon the now sleepy town of Valentine, and while you had left the simple comforts of your hotel room for only a short while to get yourself a hot plate of lamb's fry for supper, you'd returned to your room straight after with less than a full stomach, given that eating wasn't the highest priority on your list in your situation, too stressed and down in the mouth to enjoy the finest Valentine could provide.

Day two was the same: eat if you could in between the stress of the unknown, roam around town aimlessly if you felt you could leave the room at all, read the one same book, albeit a different poem each time, and sleep. It was on day three that you really started to worry. Maybe Dutch and the gang had decided on your fate, and that fate was to leave you in the dark, to fear the unknown and remain in a state of anxiety until you came to terms with the fact yourself that they weren't coming to get you. A cruel fate indeed.

You contemplated just going back - just riding into camp and fighting for your right to stay with them, to plead your case and show them what a mistake they were making by exiling you, a fine young gunslinger and a useful asset to them as a woman who wasn't afraid to use her charm to get what she wanted, when needed. You could think of a few who contributed less to camp life and the gang as a whole than you, yet were never reproached for it. All that being said, you didn't want to dig yourself a deeper hole, as that action surely would. Besides, you didn't think you could bear the embarrassment of making such a scene only to be turned away again. You'd look a fool in front of everyone.

You remembered when Micah had ridden off for a while back before Colter, and to earn back his respect he'd not returned to camp until he'd found a peace offering for Dutch. Now Micah wasn't one for good ideas, nor was he your favorite person to be around at all, but his method certainly seemed to work. You had more to lose by not attempting the same than you did by going out and returning with a peace offering of your own. Micah was far less of a desirable asset to the gang than you, wild and unpredictable. If he could do it, surely you could, your only crime within the gang being bickering.

With that, you left your room with nothing on you but your repeater and headed down the hotel stairs, out the door and across the way into the saloon where you ordered something to fill your belly before you headed out on the trail. Your appetite was the same as it had been the past few days, lacking, but you couldn't set out on such a mission without sustenance. Who knew when you'd next be able to eat a proper meal.

The saloon was quiet, unusually so. On any normal day, it was full of farmers, carpenters, stable hands and more of the working folk around Valentine looking to get their midday fill. Save for a working lady and a pair of Irish scoundrels loitering in the back of the dimly lit saloon, you were alone. You hid your face as best you could with the brim of your hat, ordering your meal at the bar before finding yourself a table by the window. You could see the Irishmen from your peripheral, but they wouldn't quite be able to identify you.

"You wouldn't happen to know why it's so quiet today, would you?" You asked politely as the barman brought the food to your table. "I apologize if it's not my place to ask." The bartender grimaced, not at you but at what he was to announce. "Talk of a big storm rolling in from the mountains, heavy rain or possibly snow. None of us are too sure, but something mean is brewing atop those peaks," he started. "And just when the mud was beginning to dry up." You hummed in agreement, walking over from the hotel hadn't been quite such a miserable few steps for the first time since you'd arrived a few days ago, your shoes mostly dry and clean.

"Most people are out trying to finish up any work that needs doin' before it hits us. I'm surprised you've not heard, miss." You nodded and picked up your fork, not wanting to bother the man much longer, though he did sound happy for the company on such a quiet day. "I'm not really one to read the paper or pay much mind to small talk," you gave him a soft smile, "thank you." The bartender muttered a gentle "of course", nodded and swiftly returned to his duties behind the bar.

Not one to pay much mind to small talk? In this instance that was a lie. Paying attention to small talk was something you'd had to do to survive for many a year. You'd tuned in on the O'Driscoll's conversation immediately as the bartender had left you, and while a lot of it was completely useless or positively foul, you caught wind of a shipment, though you didn't know what of. They'd planned to take it for themselves as it made its way somewhere up past Fort Wallace, tonight.

You weren't sure about your mission now, but you couldn't stay in Valentine any longer. It was becoming somewhat clear to you that the gang either weren't interested anymore, or were taking their sweet time to make a decision, letting you stew in your regret as long as they deemed necessary. Riding out and finding a good score was the only option you felt you had. If you rode out, though, there was a chance you'd get stuck in the storm without shelter, get hit by lightning or perish from hypothermia from the rain or snow. If you stayed in Valentine you'd be shin deep in mud, as opposed to just being ankle deep if duty called for you to leave the hotel, you'd be sheltered, but you'd most likely begin to tear your hair out with nothing much to do, indefinitely.

You stood with a quiet groan after you finished what you could of your meal, thanked the bartender again and headed back to the hotel for some light snacks and your old waterproof duster. While it was fairly sunny and warm as of that moment, you weren't taking the chance of riding out without it. Onto the back of your horse it went, wrapped under the same straps as your bedroll. Your poor horse was almost bored to death by now, so seeing you and the signs of leaving the town for different views had its ears perked right up.

"You'll be pleased to hear we're heading out, my friend," you stroked your hand down its neck, resting on its withers before giving it a gentle pat. "Let's go get us a score." You mounted up and rode north-east out of the muddy livestock town, tightening all girths and fastenings as your horse strode out towards Cumberland Forest, ears flickering with excitement and a slight bounce in its step. While you were a seasoned rider, this type of wild energy under you still filled your body with some amount of adrenaline.

With the later afternoon came more of a chill, and while you were used to the cooler climate now, it was enough for you to allow your horse to cruise while you reached for your duster, unraveling it and threading your arms through. You made sure it was tightly shut before retaking control of the reins, not that you'd had to direct your horse for a while now, who was naturally just following the trail. You rode for a half hour, cursing yourself for making the amateur mistake of leaving at a time where very few people - targets, would be traveling, but your mind was set on this alleged shipment above all else.

The roads were still, except for a squirrel here and a bunny there, the first few spooked your horse who in the short few days had come to believe that small critters crossings its path were infact, scary again. As of most nights up near Fort Wallace and beyond, the wolves, grey and timber were out en masse, howling coming from multiple directions, but not close enough for you to be fearful of it, more enthralled. Your horse however was less serene, snorting like a dragon and flaring its nostrils for as long as the howls sounded. "Easy now", you cooed, bringing your hand down to pat at its neck.

Passing by Fort Wallace, you glanced over at the gate, a few guards standing out front and a few more atop the wooden parapet. Swallowing, you squeezed your legs around your mount, urging the already prancing animal to pick up the pace just a tad more. You knew their eyes were on you, and while they couldn't see anymore than a silhouette atop a horse, making its way through the late evening as any passerby posing no threat would, you knew far better than to ride any closer. Instead, you decided to make one final push up to Bacchus Station, out of harm's way, from both fauna and firing squad.

As you approached the station, the voices of at least two men came into earshot, making you slow your horse to dull the sounds of its hooves on the now near frozen ground. Finally, you thought to yourself. You'd started to lose hope. "Another hour is all you have to stand guard for", the first guard spoke as you brought your horse to a halt. "Aye, but an hour in this cold feels like 10", his colleague replied, and the more you listened to their back and forth, the more you picked up on their accent being that of a particular Irish gang.

How was it that the O'Driscolls seemed to always be in the right place at the right time? How had they caught wind of this shipment and your gang hadn't? You half wondered whether you'd see any familiar faces cresting the horizon for it. Oh how your heart would sink, both in relief but in fear of what they might tell you. Unfortunately for the O'Dricsoll's though, in this case they just happened to be here at the wrong time, as whatever shipment they were waiting for was going to be yours, and their lives were more than likely going to be extinguished within the next hour if they tried to stop you. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

For the first and hopefully the last time, you were somewhat glad to hear their Irish drawl. It was familiar, and at least you wouldn't have to deal with the civilians that were expecting the shipment originally. They'd most likely already been dealt with by said O'Driscolls. You disliked that the civilians had suffered the wrath of those who followed Colm, however it did make your job easier with them out of the picture, as morbid as it was to admit they'd done you a favor. Killing for sport wasn't something you agreed with, allowing anyone who hadn't posed an immediate threat to your life to flee whichever scene you'd imposed on them in the past.

Your code was to avoid regular working folk as best you could, yes, but you had no moral qualms when it came to putting O'Driscolls down. Van der Linde or ex Van der Linde, the contempt instilled in you from them and for other personal reasons, made it so easy to snuff out their lives when required. You nudged your horse back in the direction you'd come from and headed up the base of the Grizzlies to find the perfect vantage point, one where you could see the trail and the O'Driscolls on guard duty, but where you were just covered enough by the tall, thin aspen-looking trees to not easily be spotted by them.

Bringing your horse to a halt once more, you slid off the saddle and told it to stay, not hitching in case it needed to run if things went awry and you didn't make it back, or, you needed a quick getaway. You hoped the latter would be the outcome if this were to go bad. Luck didn't seem to be on your side as of late. After fumbling for your binoculars in your saddle bag, you headed up the mountain just a few steps further and reached the vantage point you'd been looking for. Now all that was left to do was sit, wait, and keep an eye out for lantern light on the trails beneath you.

You checked your pocket watch here and there, sometimes with only a mere few minutes between. Your livelihood was dependent on this score, whatever the score may be. You were starting to hope that the O'Driscolls knew how to tell the time right, or if they'd somehow managed to get even that confused, but with that thought came lanterns in the distance, on their way up from the Cornwall oil refinery, perhaps. A large oil wagon pulled by two great draft horses crested the hill, your binoculars being only just clear enough with the cold weather to make out that it was indeed a Cornwall shipment.

An oil wagon was not what was on your list of shipments you'd be happy to take back to camp, but an oil wagon was what you'd been given, and what you'd have to take. It would be put to use somehow, or sold for a little extra cash for camp. You watched intently as the wagon closed in on the station, no more men popping out of the shadows led you to believe this was not a job that the O'Driscolls had run by Colm for his approval. Maybe the outlaws at the base of your mountain were also looking for a chance at redemption, too.

You slowly slinked your way down the hill, staying behind the trees and using the many bushes for cover as you closed in. Still no sign of any more than two men, it couldn't be more perfect for you. You readied your rifle as the wagon came to a stop, the O'Driscolls acting as though they were standing guard at the station, rather than waiting to put a few bullets in the two men atop your score. Stepping down onto the frozen ground, the Cornwall henchmen gave but a glance towards the O'Driscolls and headed inside the station. Poor men, completely unaware of the carnage they were about to find inside.

It took only a second for the guards to turn on their heels, pistols raised and harsh words on their tongues as they burst back out the doors to find their buyers' attackers. The O'Driscolls were on the wagon already, one shooting as best he could at their pursuers as the other cracked the reins down on the horses, pulling the wagon swiftly out of the station. You groaned at their incompetence and ran back up to your horse, jumping on and following the Cornwall guards and the wagon that was now heading northbound.

Northbound, dangerously fast at that, and right towards the jagged red rocks of Calumet Ravine.

You'd fallen hard for the outlaw, for his rugged charm and quick wit. But also for the simpler things, like the way his golden hair fell in his face while he scribbled in his journal, or the little scar on his chin you'd always wondered but never pried about how he'd obtained. He'd fallen for you too, albeit very slowly, but surely.

He loved the calm you brought upon him whenever he was in your company, and the little butterflies he felt when you shared a glance from across camp; something he was almost sure he would never have the privilege of feeling again.

Something he'd told himself he'd never allow himself to feel again.

He'd found over the years of living together that you completed him, as much as it scared him to admit. At first he believed it to be simply a wonderful friendship with the way you clicked so well, the way you'd wait up for him into the late hours of the night, refusing to sleep until he returned safe from his travels, and the conversations you'd have into the early hours of the morning as a result. But it didn't take long for him to realize that you did that out of love; a love above one shared between close friends. And it didn't take him too long after that to understand that, despite the idea making his stomach twist, deep down he wanted to be more to you too. It just took him a long time to admit it to himself.

You complemented eachother perfectly. Where Arthur lacked in confidence you were there to pick him and his spirits right back up, and where you lacked in experience he was there to show you the right way. It was a match made in heaven, as the saying goes, but for your father Hosea, it was the last thing he ever wanted to be informed of. That his daughter was sweet on an outlaw. He wanted better for you than a life of crime, for he'd raised you better, or at least he'd sure tried to after Bessie's passing.

He wanted you to eventually leave the gang and make a life for yourself, where you wouldn't have to live in constant fear of having possibly everything you knew and loved taken away from you in an instant because of your ties.

But here you were, despite his warnings, still swooning over the very outlaw he'd tried to forbid you months ago from being anything other than friends with. The very outlaw who would hold you back and keep you in this dangerous way of life. Who would sully your name were you to be exposed with him to the outside world. The very outlaw who could cost you your future, or even your life.

"I can't let you just throw your life away!" Hosea turned his back to you and the table that separated you in the dusty Shady Belle room, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. "And by being with Arthur, you're doing just that."

You turned your nose up at his comment while his back was turned. He'd had the first talk with you about Arthur around three months ago, and for three months you'd continued to pursue the outlaw despite Hosea's disapproval, continued to learn about him, and you only loved him more for doing so.

"It's our own fault that we're here. We know that." He turned back to you with a sigh. "Yes you were born to outlaws, and yes, this way of life is the only one you've ever known," he paused, "but that doesn't mean that you have to follow in our footsteps and make the same stupid mistakes that we did to get ourselves here." He huffed, his blood starting to heat ever so slightly. "Is this the life you want? Constantly looking over your shoulder? Constantly in fear of the ones you love being captured or hurt? Because you're headed straight down that path."

You pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down quietly, studying his face for a few seconds before you spoke up.

"That's precisely it, Pa. This is all I've known for all my years, so why would I want to leave behind the only routine, and the only people that I know?" Your voice grew quieter as the emotions started to rise. "I know you think that sending me away is what's best, but doing so nowadays is as good as throwing me in jail yourself. We may think that the law doesn't know my name, that they don't know my face or the people I'm tied to," you leaned backwards against the chair, a sigh escaping you. "But we've been wrong before, Pa. Oh, so wrong. We're too large a gang nowadays, and too conspicuous. They have an eye a lot closer on us than we think."

Hosea sighed back, knowing the point you made was uncomfortably true.

"This is where I belong, with or without Arthur." You tried a smile. "If you want me safe, keep me here, under the protection of those who care." Hosea pulled out a chair himself and sat, propping his elbows on the table, head in his hands now. "I just don't want you to spend the rest of your life like this, (y/n), because we're not living. We're surviving, and I want more for you than just surviving."

You dropped your eyes to the floor. You didn't truly understand the privilege that you had, the privilege of living over surviving. Your entire life you'd been tucked away safe and sheltered from the outside world, so that if the day came where you did want to leave, you'd have a better chance at going unrecognized.

But your father's comment had you perplexed. The only thoughts that most of your family had were about food, or ammo and protection, and those thoughts were so far from your own. Your mind was consumed with all things positive; joy, love, support, the list could go on. To you, you were living. Having such a beautiful relationship with Arthur made you feel that the life you lead was so much more than just the dangers and the worries the gang were faced with.

But of course, you weren't the one hunting. You weren't the one searching for leads and coming home with either a big bag of cash or on a mediocre day a few bullet wounds. You dreaded to imagine a bad day. You'd had everything that you needed delivered to camp and around the clock protection. You just didn't understand the privilege.

But your life was exciting with Arthur and you didn't want to change that for the dangers of being alone in the outside world. You had no idea what it was like to be part of society, part of those who actually followed the rules. Just like you had no idea whether the Pinkertons were watching and would take the first opportunity they had to grab you and take you in for questioning. That was, if they didn't just hang you that same day in an attempt to intimidate the gang into turning themselves in.

You'd much rather face the dangers as part of the gang, and you'd much rather face them with Arthur at your side. You just didn't see things the way your father did. And sadly, he didn't see them your way either.

"I'll just never forgive myself if you end up like us," Hosea spoke softly now, leaning back with a shake of his head, almost as though he was in denial about the fact that you already had. "Arthur will never change. He'll never get out. And seeing him is a sure fire way of ending up stuck like us. Like us, or worse," he rubbed a hand over his face in despair.

"You could end up six feet under."

"I could end up suspended six feet off the ground if you send me out there, too. And if I'm to die, I'd much rather do it here." You were well aware of the risks that came with being with Arthur, but they were no scarier than those presented by society. You never asked to go out on jobs, you never put yourself in the line of fire. If you did you'd understand and maybe appreciate your father's lectures more, but the risks truly felt as though they'd never happen to you, and if they did, at least you'd go happy.

"Listen, your mother," Hosea paused again, longer this time. "Bringing her into my world was the biggest mistake of my life, and I'd give anything to go back, to stay away from all of this for good."

You didn't really remember Bessie. She'd passed when you were young; wrong place at the wrong time. A bullet not meant for her, but for Hosea who afterwards was drunk for a year, or so you'd been told a few times. Your memories were truly hazy, but maybe that was due to the fact that Ms Grimshaw had stepped up and raised you for that year Hosea was unable to. She'd been the mother figure you were robbed of and protected you from the outside world. Or maybe your mind had just erased those memories, to keep you safe from the trauma.

Hosea reached for your hand, which you gently placed in his with a feeble, empathetic smile. "Arthur knew Bessie," he looked at your hand in his, before returning to your glistening eyes. "I'd like to think that he understands the risk of loving someone when in his line of work. To think he'd be responsible enough to put some distance between the two of you, before something inevitably happens to one of you."

Hosea released your hand after a moment's silence and stood, asking you with a flick of his head to follow. He guided you towards the front door of the manor; you both needed some air now, as heavy and humid as it was in Lemoyne. "I buried Bessie," he spoke, with a tinge of emotion in his voice he tried his best to keep at bay. "I'll be damned if I'm to bury my own daughter too."

You sniffled, the thought of your father going through so much pain, pained you.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," you took a deep breath of air as you stood on the front steps of the manor. "But if it does, at least you'll have some closure when burying Arthur, too."

Hosea chuckled slightly, but his stern look swiftly returned. "There is no 'let's hope', my dear." He sighed. "I can't have you seeing Arthur and that's just that. After all this, after your mother, I was hoping you'd see that clearly."

Your stomach flipped, you thought you'd somehow managed to evade the subject or even change his mind. Alas, Hosea's only goal was to persuade you to part ways with Arthur, and he'd just circled back to it. "I've nothing against Arthur." Hosea looked at you with compassion. "I've known him just as long as I've known you, and he's about as good as it gets, I'll admit." He took a step down, giving you some space. "But he's just not worth the risk of you losing your life, or me losing the best part of mine."

You were lost for any civil words. Those that sprung to mind were far too angry. Of all the talks you'd had, you felt as thought this one might've been the one to sway Hosea.

But of course not.

You felt betrayed, but you weren't about to make a scene for everyone at camp. You didn't reply, and Hosea knew of everything that you were hiding behind your silence. "For your mother's sake," he tried a final time to get his point across, though only adding extra salt to the wound, "make the right choice."

He stepped away and headed for Dutch's tent, probably to relay to him that you believed you were all being closely watched by the law. No doubt Dutch would have some sort of feeling about that, and would surely make life a little difficult for you one way or another for having so little faith in him. Probably what you deserved anyway in the eyes of your father, for making such a wrong call and continuing to see Arthur. And if you were occupied with jobs all day, you'd be too tired to wait up into the night for him. He probably hoped that if he broke your routine, eventually you'd grow apart.

But despite your anger, your heart broke a little at the thought of him not knowing that you'd already chosen to betray his wishes, and you always would. He only had your best interests at heart.

You'd been raised to be trustworthy, and in a gang that was built on trust, you did your best to respect it. So, maybe ending your relationship with Arthur was on the cards after all.

With a deep, anxious sigh, you stepped down into the courtyard and headed over to the gazebo where you'd left a book earlier that day. You rubbed your face as you sat down and kept your hands there momentarily, so many thoughts and feelings rushing through your mind. You looked over the swamps at the alligators that just breached the water's surface. At this very moment in time, you almost wished to fling yourself in.

It was late evening by the time Arthur returned, tired from his travels but never too tired to find you.

You'd moved from the cold concrete of the gazebo to the warmth of the main campfire. John was there to keep you company, whittling what you weren't quite sure. The thin wood shavings floated down into the fire, some barely even touching it before they caught alight and flickered back up into the night sky. Javier was there too, strumming quietly on his guitar, but no singing tonight.

"It's so late," you remarked as Arthur came to sit beside you, "I was starting to worry."

"You needn't worry about me darlin," he smiled softly, placing a gentle hand on your knee under which your muscle tensed and you all but pulled away.

His eyes were nothing short of confused, concerned even, and yours told him that maybe he in turn did have something to worry about. "I'd like to talk to you," you hummed, trying not to make it sounds like it was one of those talks in front of the other boys. "I spoke with my father again today but, we'll do this later, with a little more privacy."

Arthur only nodded, lost for words for what you'd sprung upon him. It certainly wasn't what he wanted to hear after a long day away from you.

"Now, you must be starving," you jumped to your feet with the aim to change the mood. "Let me get you some food, then you can tell us all about what kept you away from us for so long." He nodded again, only this time he managed an "of course."

After a good bowl of stew and stories of his travels between the sweet melodies of Javier's guitar, you wished both him and John goodnight before you stepped away with Arthur. You led him back to the gazebo, where you sat him down on the now rather cold cut out bench with you and took in the song of the bayou by night, before breaking the news.

Of course, Arthur was no stranger to these talks your father had been having with you. They'd happened at least once a month since you'd announced your relationship a few months ago. He was no stranger to the feeling of inferiority in the eyes of his in-laws. But to feel it coming from Hosea? He'd be lying if that didn't hurt him a little more than it had with others before him.

"So," he started, hesitation in his voice. "What is it this time?"

You shrugged and turned to him, a hand on his forearm now. "The same as it's always been, Arthur," you sighed. "He just doesn't agree with us being an item. He thinks you're putting my life in danger. Or, more so than it already is."

Arthur respected Hosea, respected his decisions and choices, always had. He understood the reasons for Hosea's disapproval. And despite always having been loyal to Hosea, parting ways with you was one request that Arthur just wouldn't fulfill. He hadn't felt love both from him and for him in what felt like an eternity, and he'd be an absolute fool to let that go.

"So what are we to do?" He paused, studying your face for any sort of answer. There was a moment of silence, though not uncomfortable. It was more a moment to think over your next words.

"I've been going over this for a while," you started, "ever since our first talks really, both with my father and you. At first I thought, maybe he was right. Maybe we should end it before it went too far, before we got too involved and one of us got hurt."

You let out a somber sigh, squeezing his forearm as he came to rest his hand on yours. "But I've grown far too close to you to ruin what could one day be something truly beautiful. A little house with some livestock. A family of our own, with none of the fears we live with now. That's something I want with you, Arthur. I picture it so vividly."

Arthur smiled shyly at your comment. The feeling was mutual, of course, but he knew that the gang would never truly stop running in a world that was hunting down their kind. He knew that if he one day had the opportunity to whisk you away and try for a fresh start in a new place, you'd still be hunted.

In the changing world, outlaw dreams like these were only ever to be just that; dreams.

"Well," he spoke quietly, moving his hand to cup your cheek. "You do paint quite the picture, and I sure ain't gonna just let the chance of having that slip away." His thumb caressed your skin, a flicker of sadness in his heart both at your naïveté and that he'd gone along with your fantasy. He just didn't have the heart to ruin it.

"Unless o' course, for Hosea's sake you want me to." He moved back to his original spot. "You and your feelings mean more to me than any other 'round here."

You tutted, your brow slightly furrowed at him. "No, Arthur. Listen." You took a quick look over to Dutch's tent where Hosea sat, chatting away. A quiet sigh escaped you.

"I hate to go behind my father's back, Arthur, I really do. And this sounds like something out of one of those silly romance novels I have but.. that's because it is. It's my last resort."

You expected Arthur to laugh, but he didn't.

"In the one I'm reading, I can't help but see.. us." You met his gaze before dropping it to your hands. "Star-crossed lovers, who meet every night beneath the tallest tree that shelters them from prying eyes. And while I don't think that we should play it out word for word, I do think that we should take a page out of their book, so to speak."

Arthur dropped his eyes to your hand, small and delicate against his forearm. "Keep us a secret?" He all but whispered.

You nodded, bringing his eyes back to yours. Arthur knew that you hated going against the rules, and even more so lying and manipulating an unfortunate soul to get your way. But this act only showed that you were in it for the long run, and after past relationships he'd had, a little reassurance about that went a long way.

"We go about our days as usual, only we limit our interactions, act a little sad, or avoidant, even. By night we'll meet up somewhere. Spend our evenings as we usually do, just, after everyone has turned in. Or at the very least my father, and Dutch." You smiled softly. "We both know that the others don't have a problem, nor will they care to relay what we're doing."

Arthur hummed in agreement, a slight chuckle escaping him. "Most probably won't even notice a change. They all have their own problems to worry about."

You smiled in return, he was right.

"So, how will I know where to find you?" He almost tilted his head. You chuckled, now it really did sound like those forbidden love novels you read.

"We haven't been forbidden to be in eachother's company." You took his hand in yours, your thumb tracing gently over a small new wound he'd acquired from his last outing. "The way I see it, we can still be around eachother, and we can still talk. But we have to seem distant from eachother. At least for a few days. And I'll be distant from my father, too. Hopefully sooner than later he'll come around. I hate that I'll be hurting him, but, I know that he won't be able to live with his daughter giving him the cold shoulder. It's the only way."

Arthur sighed, wishing that you didn't have to do such a thing. Hosea knew that he was good, that he'd let no harm come to you. He could let you both at least try before outright forbidding it. It all felt so strange, like Hosea was trying to reduce the two of you to mere children, incapable of looking after yourselves. It didn't help that you were going to be sneaking around like teenagers now, either.

"Alright," he mumbled, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

"I know it's not ideal," you smiled understandingly. "Frankly it makes me feel a little silly too. But I'd rather do this for a few days and have my father come around to the idea of us, instead of him continuing to disapprove and us being in this uncomfortable situation for the foreseeable."

Arthur only hummed, but it was all you needed.

"Now we should turn in, you must be exhausted." He nodded, a yawn creeping up on him at the mention of sleep. "I am."

You both rose to your feet, your fingers now intertwined for what felt like would be the last time in a long while, before making your way down the gazebo steps under the cover of darkness.

You said your goodnights and shared a tender kiss, before heading to your respective rooms as you always did. You'd never shared a room with Arthur, nor a tent. Not even a bed in the time you'd been together. You felt bad enough for just being with him against your father's wishes, but to be intimate with him on top of everything? Now that felt like a step too far.

Of course, you wanted to be. You both did. But Arthur understood, you didn't want to go that far until you got your father's blessing. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to be physical until getting a blessing either. He respected Hosea just too much to do such a thing.

And besides, when that day came it would only make it all the more special.

You rose early the next morning. You wanted to get out and away from everyone, to give an air of sorrow.

Arthur was already gone, his horse the only one missing from camp at such an hour. Oh how you wished he'd calm down, settle a bit. He'd sure earned a break for all the years of work he'd done. Hell, there were so many other men in camp who could give him a day's rest, but you knew he wasn't able to without receiving an earful from Dutch.

You sighed as you made your way to the little cabin a short walk from the manor. You didn't want to go further than screaming distance for the many gators that called the swamps home, but it was far enough to hear no noise from camp.

You'd brought that one book with you, one of your favorite things to do was read the hours away, and what better way to fill the necessary lack of socialization for effect and lack of attention from Arthur than by picking up where you'd left off on the star-crossed lovers. You sat on the river side of the cabin with your back up against the wall, hidden from the first morning rays. The air was already humid enough to keep you at a nice temperature.

With the warmth awoke the smaller creatures like the frogs and toads. You heard them jumping into the murky water here and there, escaping the hungry eyes of the early rising birds.

With a deep intake of the heavy air, you opened your book to the chapter you'd left on, but kept a wary eye on the riverbank, just in case a gator had you on its breakfast menu.

Before you knew it an hour had passed, maybe even two, and you were brought back to reality when you turned your gaze to see none other than Hosea, making his way over to you. "I thought that I'd find you here," he greeted gently, not too sure how you'd ended things with Arthur, if you had at all, and therefore how to approach the situation.

"Good morning," you turned your attention back to your book and your finger on the line you'd last read.

"I brought you coffee," Hosea cooed, extending his arm down to you. "Oh," you tried a smile, "thank you."

Hosea wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but you being so quiet and distant from him wasn't it. He hated your silence more than anything. To him, having you kicking and screaming would be preferable. At least then he'd be able to just hold you for consolation. But this was something he wasn't sure how to tackle.

He'd never wanted to hurt you or break the bond you shared, but he was starting to feel like maybe he'd done just that, only by trying to keep you safe.

"I came to talk," he started, standing a little way off from where you sat. "I know that it isn't what you wanted," he paused with a sigh, "and truthfully it's not what I wanted, either. What I want is for my family to be happy. Safe, and happy. But I just don't see any way for you to be both if you're romantically involved with Arthur."

Silence fell upon you, your unwillingness to respond and the lack of knowing what to say on Hosea's part made it rather awkward.

"But I can tell that my peace offering wasn't as effective as I was hoping," he shrugged, "so I won't bother you any further." His voice was quiet, upset. "Just, please don't hold it against me for wanting you safe above all else. It's a father's duty, and I owe it to your mother."

The last part struck a nerve, and your eyes teared up in pure guilt as he walked away. You weren't sure if you were going to be able to go through with this, outright lying to your father and giving him the silent treatment. You shook the thought off and returned to your book, listening to Hosea's steps as they trailed further and further away with the urge to call out to him and tell the truth.

You spent another hour reading and taking sips of your coffee, trying your best to keep your mind away from the wrong you were doing, but you could only read so much and needed a change of scenery. You headed back towards camp without the usual spring in your step, and made your way to the other girls who'd only just risen.

"Morning," you smiled feebly, walking straight past them and grabbing a few clothes that needed repairs.

"What's got you so glum?" Karen questioned through a yawn as she tried to resist having just five more minutes of shut-eye. "Oh, nothing," you shrugged, sitting beside them on their wooden pallet to get started on patching. "I just didn't sleep too well, too much on my mind." The girls shared your feelings, they'd all been struggling to sleep since the move to Shady Belle, but you could tell they weren't quite buying that a lack of sleep was the only reason for your melancholy.

You tutted at them, they'd grown too good at reading you.

"It's just the same old story, I won't bore you with it again." You tried a chuckle.

The girls had heard this all before, and each time it'd ended up the same; you stayed together and defied your father, so they were sure this wouldn't be any different.

Karen chuckled and went to stand up. "If you ask me, you're old enough now to make your own decisions. None of us had our parents around to tell us right from wrong but we all turned out great."

You sighed through a smile as you moved to the next tear that needed patching.

"I know," you spoke quietly, taking a break from your sewing, your hand falling to your lap. "I'm not a child anymore, and my father knows that. I think it's something he just doesn't want to come to terms with."

The girls just listened, wondering whether what you were going to say next was what they were hoping for. "So he's getting the silent treatment until he comes around. Until he realizes that it's better for him to have me with Arthur than not have me at all."

And it was.

They hated seeing you upset over this, over something that shouldn't be under anyone else's control, and they were glad that you were finally putting your foot down.

"And?" Tilly drawled, wrapping her fingers around her first cup of coffee. "And, well," you lowered your voice, "we've.. faked a split. An act, until my father comes to his senses. We're going to meet only by night, for now."

The girls all smiled, of course you would meet in secret.

"Oh," Mary-Beth sighed longingly, "secret midnight rendez-vous? You only read of those in books."

You chuckled, placing your first finished garment to the side. "Please keep your voices down, my father can't know about this. It would break his heart beyond repair."

You got a nod from all of them before they went about their mornings as usual, only to eventually join you back for a little group sewing. But you didn't have much more to do yourself, so you were quite happy just keeping them company and listening to all the new gossip.

     The rest of your day consisted of avoiding others, more reading, cursing the bayou for it's sweltering humidity, and waiting for Arthur to return to camp and spend as much time with you under the cover of night as you felt you could.

The next few days were exactly the same; avoiding, reading, cursing, and more waiting for the cover of evening to spend some time with your beloved.

As the days passed your father tried to talk to you. He tried to repair the bond he now was sure he'd broken for good, but it seemed all in vain. You were truly too heartbroken to want to talk to him and it was all his fault, or so you made it seem to keep up your little charade.

You were sat with Arthur on yet another warm night, behind the cabin where you'd found yourself a few days ago, hidden from prying eyes.

"How long do we have to keep doing this?" Arthur drawled, cigarette between his lips. You sighed deeply, wondering whether the time had come for a change of plan.

Humming quietly, you placed a hand on his thigh. "We shouldn't keep doing this. My silence is hurting my father too much. He doesn't deserve this treatment, no matter what his views on us are." You paused for a moment, your heart heavy. "I've been eating less, my sleep is worse than usual, and it's all because of this.. game we're playing."

You folded the corner of the page you were reading and closed your book gently. "And if I may be honest, being confined to a hiding spot together for an hour or two a night isn't how I want to spend my time with you."

Arthur looked over at you with concern, not sure whether this was breakup talk or not.

"I want to be free to be with you wherever I want, and in the presence of whoever I want," you squeezed his thigh reassuringly. "So I say that tomorrow we confront my father. Tell him it's us together, or neither of us at all. I know he's having a hard time now that him and I aren't speaking, and as terrible as I feel to use that against him, I think it's better than continuing this awful lie."

Arthur took a drag, holding the smoke for only a moment before letting it escape him. "You know I ain't too good at talking to in-laws."

You chuckled quietly, moving your hand back to your own lap. "You've known Hosea for far too long to see him as a real threat, Arthur. And I think I'll have more of a chance of success if you're there with me."

Arthur didn't reply, it was as though he was lost in thoughts of his past. Just Mary and the disapproval from her father all over again.

"He isn't like that," you turned to him and settled on your knees, taking his face in your hands. "You know he isn't. You know my father won't be unkind to you. He loves you. He just disapproves of our lifestyle, and at the moment there's nothing we can do to change that. So," you rubbed a thumb tenderly over his cheek, "he either has to accept that, or accept that his only daughter and the man he's counted on for two decades won't speak to him again."

Arthur knew you were right, but he was still hesitant. He'd heard similar to this before and it hadn't gone well that time.

"Why don't you sleep on it?" You smiled softly. "Just, please let me know in the morning, before you set off."

He hummed as you planted a tender kiss on his forehead, a move you knew would sway him if your words hadn't already. "I'll see you bright and early then. Goodnight, Arthur."

You rose to your feet with a tired groan, now looking forward to sleep and the new day.

"G'night darlin," he cooed, taking another drag and a long, uneasy exhale as he released the smoke into the night. With that you returned to your room and settled down to rest, only closing your eyes and fully relaxing once you heard him walk by to his own, just a few minutes behind.

     You scrunched your nose up at the first morning rays coming through the cracked glass of your room's windows, your skin tingling at the newly found warmth.

It'd been a while since you'd slept well, and last night was no exception. You cleared your throat and turned over, using your shoulder to block as much light as you could. It was just too early for you to feel like socializing, and either way you had to wait for Arthur. You hoped he'd show.

You turned over as you came to again, an hour or so later you assumed, not opening your eyes for the nap you'd just taken had made them more stingy and sensitive to light than they had been the first time you opened them. You lied there on your side for a while, listening to the quiet sounds of the wildlife around you and the clattering of mugs and Pearson's pots and pans as camp started to wake up, too.

Turning over again, your cot rather uncomfortable this morning, you clocked the sound of footsteps and the jingle of spurs making their way across the landing that separated the rooms. The gait was all too familiar to you, and you greeted Arthur with a sleepy smile as he quietly entered your door.

"I was hoping not to disturb you," he mumbled, closing it behind himself and standing there momentarily.

"You didn't wake me," you hummed and settled back down onto your side as you watched him sleepily with one eye, barely open. He made his way to the chair not too far from your bed, and his hat came off and rested in his lap as he sat down and gathered his thoughts.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes slowly took in every inch of your body as the morning rays danced across your skin. It wasn't his first time seeing you in so little clothing, but to anyone who could sense his heartbeat they'd sure think it was. Though, behind the tinge of desire that was cause of his raised heart rate, he was more in awe at the woman who lay before him. He still couldn't quite believe that someone so beautiful had actually chosen him. You looked so perfect, so peaceful.

"I'll be back early afternoon," he spoke softly, shifting in his seat with the same unease as he had the night before.

"Thank you, Arthur." You smiled through a relieved sigh, sleep starting to creep up on you again now that the anxiety had shifted.

He hummed and you heard him stand and take a step towards you. His fingers carefully graced your skin, brushing the hair from your temple to make way for a tender kiss he left in its place.

"Be safe," you spoke sleepily, only just above a whisper.

"I always am," you could hear his soft smile through his tone. "You get some more rest now."

He gave one last gentle caress to your temple before he moved to pull your blanket up over your legs. It wasn't cold, it never was in the bayou. It was more to prevent others from somehow seeing you. This view, the few clothes you wore, were for his eyes only, and he'd be damned if he were to let prying eyes see more of you before he'd had the privilege of doing so himself.

      Arthur returned in the early afternoon just as he'd promised you he would.

You'd had a knot in your stomach ever since you'd actually got up; you hadn't been able to eat any breakfast or do much patching for the shaking of your hands, and you linked it to the anxiety at the thought of him maybe deciding not to show after all.

You knew he'd never betray you in such a way, you knew he'd never lie. But seeing his horse walk back into camp immediately untied the knot and loosened any tension you'd been stuck with for the last six hours or so.

You felt a little bad for doubting him.

His first thought after turning his horse out to graze was you. You could see him from where you sat, alongside the cabin with a book as usual. You'd made your way there after you'd had to take a break from chores due to the shaking, and you'd been sat there for longer than you realized.

He eyes searched for you while he walked down the path into the courtyard, his entire body relaxing when he noticed you at your usual spot. But with a slight wave in your direction, he turned towards Dutch's tent with a sense of urgency.

You knew he'd been out looking for leads this morning, as he did pretty much every morning, but his demeanor was different than usual which only caused the knot in your stomach to return. You truly hoped that he only had good news; perhaps rich pickings to be had from a nearby O'Driscoll camp, or a legendary animal whose hide or pelt would sell for a pretty penny. You'd heard talk of an alligator at least two wagons long in length, with white scales that shone brightly in the moonlight. You were sure something like that could bring in some real cash, and probably feed camp for weeks, though, the thought of eating such a creature made you feel a little queasy.

It probably wasn't even real anyway, but dwelling on that thought made you stand and back away from the water.

Arthur soon made his way over to you with less urgency in his step now, cigarette between his lips and a soft smile to go with it. "You're in a good mood," you chuckled as he came to a halt beside you, swiping a match across the sole of his boot and leaning his shoulder against the cabin for a first drag. "How was your ride out?"

"Not too bad," he took a drag from his newly lit cigarette, "got wind of a score."

"A score?" You almost gasped, it was certainly more than you were expecting. "What kind of score?" Arthur just shrugged nonchalantly, clearly proud of himself for finding the information but trying to play it cool. "A riverboat," he took another drag, "a poker game, on a riverboat."

Your heart sank twice as much as it'd jumped at his first announcement.

"A riverboat? Oh, Arthur," you sighed, clutching your book to your chest. "Wasn't Blackwater lesson enough?" Arthur just shrugged again and took another drag, offering the cigarette to you which you politely declined, despite the need for a pick me up after everything you'd been through today already. And you still had the talk to deal with.

"Blackwater wasn't my idea," he grumbled, "this time we'll do it right."

You shook your head at the idea of him putting himself in so much danger, again. "But it's just word o' mouth as far as I'm concerned. Dutch and I will do some more digging over the next few days." You lacked the words for a response, looking away from him and out to the bayou for a moment. "Don't you worry yourself."

"Speaking of worry," you sighed and turned back to him. "We should talk to my father soon, before he gets too wrapped up in.. heist planning." You spoke the last words quietly, the thought of Hosea endangering himself as well as Arthur was a little much for you.

His smile all but vanished, as if he'd forgotten what he'd promised you. "I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news," you smiled apologetically. Arthur only took another drag, and after a moment spoke up.

"He'll be too busy with planning already," he started, "they had their map out before I'd even left the tent."

You sighed and shifted your weight, looking away from him again. "We can't keep making excuses, Arthur. We can't keep avoiding." You couldn't see him, but you could sense him furrowing his brows at you as he let out a quiet huff. "If this is your way of getting out of talking to him with me, then frankly I'm a little offended that you went through all this, just to avoid telling me outright." You paused, keeping your eyes on the swamp. "But, I understand."

"Now it ain't nothin' like that," he dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with the heel of his boot. "I'm just sayin' that now ain't the time to go over there. Best wait until nightfall."

You turned back, your expression tired, more mentally than physically. "Whatever you say."

The both of you sat against the cabin together for a while, you felt a lot safer being so close to the water now Arthur was there with you. You even asked him about the alligator, to which he admitted he wasn't sure was entirely true either. After a while you went back to your chores, and he went back to working around camp too, even riding out but returning not too long after. The day overall was pretty average after his return, despite the anxiety that you were still battling with.

You met for dinner around the campfire that evening, and for the first time in a few days you sat next to eachother. Of course it didn't go unnoticed by Hosea who happened to be at the fire too with his own bowl of stew. You tried your best to avoid his quizzical gaze; the complete opposite of Arthur, who seemed none the wiser to his looks.

Ignorance is bliss, you thought.

So with one final mouthful and a raise of your eyebrows in disbelief at your father's scorn, almost a week on now, you stood and left without a word. You felt so foolish for having had any empathy, throwing your bowl and spoon into the wash basin without a care about what would get splashed. Had Hosea made peace with the silence you were giving him? Had he made peace with the fact that his relationship with his own daughter was well and truly broken? It sure seemed like it, or felt like it. He was just too stubborn to accept any other outcome than the one he wanted.

     While others shared food around the campfire and sang a few songs to lift their spirits, you sat alone by the cabin, once again. There was a new feeling brewing inside you. It wasn't quite anger, and it wasn't quite sadness. In fact, you weren't quite sure what it was at all. But whatever it was, it made you feel so small, so insignificant to the rest of the world now.

Arthur joined you after a while as he always did, but no words were shared.

You assumed he felt a little bad about how the day had gone, and about the fact you hadn't been able to have your talk or sort things out the way you'd wanted to.

As he lit a cigarette, you turned to look at camp, only to find that Hosea was slowly making his way over, too. You mumbled under your breath, barely loud enough for Arthur to hear before you turned away and hoped that he hadn't seen you looking.

"What was that?" Arthur spoke quietly after exhaling into the night. It took you a while to respond, a lump forming in your throat. "I think I'm about to get the final lecture."

"Cat's outta the bag," you jested, too tired of the whole situation now. "Come to shun me for lying on top of everything?" Hosea just stopped a few feet away with a slight chuckle. You felt a little uncomfortable. For the first time, he seemed to accept that the two of you were alone, together. Or at least, he hadn't immediately commented on it.

"I'm not here on account of my disapproval, my dear child." He started. "So wipe that look off your face." Again, you were startled by his tone. Was he playing you? Surely. After the looks from across the campfire, there was no way this could be anything but that. "I'm here to talk about something," he paused. "A job," he paused again, "and how I won't have the peace of mind to be able to plan this correctly if I don't make peace with you, first. I can't risk endangering everyone's lives, including yours, for some silly story that's been clouding my mind."

Maybe this heist was a blessing in disguise after all.

"Silly story?" You huffed. "And how do you intend on doing that, Pa? Because unless you've decided that I'm grown enough to make the right choice in who I love, our relationship as we knew it will just remain a thing of the past."

Hosea only sighed at your harsh words, moving closer to lean up against an old barrel.

"You know your silence hurts me more than any words possibly could," he looked down at you, "and your silence, my dear, has been louder than ever."

You rolled your eyes and gazed out at the murky waters of the swamp, only for him to continue since you'd denied him of a response. "So," he shook his head at you before looking out over the bayou himself. "After a long pondering, I feel that at the very least, I owe you an apology."

You shrugged. Of course you appreciated it, but at the same time you hated what you were hearing. He didn't need to apologize, not really. His priority was to keep you safe, and to him, in order to keep you safe, he had to keep you away from Arthur. He was just doing his job as a father.

"I let my own insecurities, my own fears get the better of me." He cleared his throat. "But my fears, the past that I'll be forever tormented by, shouldn't be reason to deny you of the future that you desire."

You let him talk, it seemed as though he had quite a bit on his chest.

"I've been a fool," he shook his head, "clouded by my fear of the past repeating itself, despite the situation being entirely different, despite you always staying safe inside camp and making the right choices. I risked losing the best part of me, and the only tie I have left to Bessie. I can't lose you, and I can't lose her, not again."

Your gaze dropped to your hands, watching as you twisted your ring around your finger in what you were sure was more anxiety.

"What are you trying to say, Pa?"

"What I'm trying to say, is that your happiness and well-being is worth more to me than you'll ever understand," he smiled softly. "I'm saying that you keeping yourself safe and out of the way doesn't make my fear any less valid," he paused, "but that I've come to understand that it's unfair of me to let it rule your life. Your life is yours to live the way that you want. I can only serve as a guide."

You looked over at Arthur, who seemed just as stunned as you at your father's words. "So," you paused for a second, not sure whether to ask, or whether to even look at him. "Is this, you giving us, your.. blessing?"

Hosea was quiet for a second, almost as though the realization that he was had taken him by surprise too.

"Well I- yes, I suppose I am."

You let out a sharp breath in disbelief, turning to Arthur and placing a hand on his thigh which you gave a light squeeze. "I knew you'd come to your senses one day," you smiled and looked up at him.

Hosea returned the warm smile, a hand on your shoulder with the same reassuring squeeze you'd just given Arthur. "Don't make me regret this," he spoke softly, and turned to head back to camp.

     With nightfall came an urge, unlike any urge you'd felt before.

Usually they only happened in your cot, when your mind wandered and created scenarios in the dead of night. But you were getting an urge now, sat around the campfire with a few other gang members. Arthur was opposite you, and with your head slightly tilted towards the ground you looked at him through the flames, unbeknownst to him. His chiseled jaw, his battle scars, his stubble; every feature your eyes skimmed over made your core wind tighter.

There was no noise except for the fire crackling, you feared others would soon hear your heartbeat if you didn't think of something else- anything else to keep the hunger you had for this man at bay.

With a slight shake of your head you brought yourself to sit upright, catching Arthur's eye as you did, and one corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. You weren't sure whether it was because he knew what he'd caught you in, or whether it was just him acknowledging he'd seen you eyeing him, but it sent a small shiver down your spine nonetheless.

You were surprised to even be feeling these things at all around others, averting your gaze from his. But you knew that the blessing was what had triggered it; the go ahead that you were yearning for to have the softer parts of Arthur's skin right at the end of your fingertips.

"I should get to bed," you faked a stretch before standing up, "it's been a long day for me. Goodnight everyone."

The gang hummed you a goodnight as you turned on your heels, letting your eyes linger on a certain outlaw only a second longer than usual to give him an idea of what was going on in your mind.

Your cot was cold, it always was. But tonight it felt colder as you sat down and ran a hand along it. You wondered if Arthur had got the hint or if you'd be spending yet another night alone. Hell, you weren't sure this was something he even wanted himself. Sure, he showed his love for you in his own ways, but he wasn't the openly over-affectionate type. You often had a hard time reading him, and it was no easier task when it came to this subject.

After a short wait you settled down under your blanket, hearing others were heading to bed too and assuming Arthur keeping you warm wasn't for tonight. Within only a few minutes you fell asleep.

     You stirred and groaned as you were pulled from your slumber, though not by noise, but a presence.

Arthur, slinking into your cot and gluing himself to your back as though you'd been made to fit there all along.

His hand snaked over your hip as it came to rest on your lower belly, holding you close as though he expected you to move away. Of course, you didn't. In turn you sank into him with a contented sigh, turning your head slightly to see him out of your peripheral were you to even bother opening your eyes. "You're so warm," you smiled, "just what I needed."

His hand moved up your side to cup your chin, kissing your jawline once tenderly and leaving another on your lips before he let you sink back down.

You were happy with this. It was a big step up from what your relationship had been for the last few months, and just being in his company while he was as relaxed and vulnerable as he could be made you feel so happy deep inside. You spent a good moment like that, enjoying eachother's warmth and the comfort it brought you both to be so at peace together.

But your breathing quickened only slightly as Arthur's hand began to move. It moved back up to your hip, and instead of leaving your body as you expected, he slowly moved it down towards your thigh.

With the stroke back towards you, he collected the material of your night gown against his fingers, bringing it back up to expose to his rougher hands the softness of your outer thigh. His lips graced your neck as he did, ever so softly.

"Arthur," you stuttered through a breath, instantly aroused by these new feelings, to which he only hummed into the next kiss. His hand moved higher but hesitated at the top of your thigh before he revealed anything more intimate, even if he couldn't see it with the blanket still over you both.

"Yes," you sighed, your hand moving to his to guide him higher, "please."

Arthuragain only hummed into you, all the confirmation he needed. His hand rubbed down your thigh again, and as you expected him to return back to your hip, he didn't. He instead moved across your thigh towards your core, grabbing the inside of your thigh and gently asking you to pry your legs apart.

You only obliged, slowly bringing one knee up towards the ceiling and resting your outer thigh against him, still in jeans and a loose shirt.

Your breathing shuddered as his fingers came so close to where you wanted them, caressing up your inner thigh and then up to your hip bone and back. He traced your thigh one last time, savoring the softness at his fingertips, before moving up to your lower abdomen and bringing his caressing to a halt.

"Hush," he spoke merely above a whisper as he watched your eyebrows scrunch in protest. His hand shifted, and fingers first he slid it down your stomach, over the neat patch of hair and slowly down your folds. "Let me savor you."

Your breathing hitched at the feeling, one you'd enjoyed by yourself, increased tenfold under Arthur's touch. He rubbed back up, hovering over the nerves that begged to be stimulated, before brushing back down again. You could feel your heartbeat down there, so strong you were starting to wonder if Arthur could too.

His fingers dipped into you ever so slightly, gathering the slick you'd made for him and coating your folds up to your clit.

And he rubbed.

He rubbed the most delicious circles, coaxing the most gentle moans from you as you breathed. "Arthur" you sighed again through a smile, threading your arm under his to hold his forearm that worked on you.

He gathered more slick and continued his movements, watching the pleasure wash over your face with every new circle, and just as he was about to bring you to the edge, he stopped and gently pressed against your leg to ask you to close them.

Your discontent must've been louder than you'd liked, for Arthur chuckled at the noise you made and turned you to be completely on your side again. His hand met your lower back oh so tenderly, pulling up your garment further to reveal your behind to his touch. His hand slinked down, over your folds and back up again, a single finger breaking the seal and lubricating itself as he went.

"Do you want to do more tonight?" He murmured, almost too muffled for you to understand. You turned to him with a look of slight concern. "Don't you?" Your voice was quiet, a wave of anxiety crashing over you as you waited for what felt like forever for an answer.

"Course I do."

With a contented hum you turned away again, feeling his hand bump against you as he unbuckled his belt. This was it. "Take it all off, Arthur, won't you?" You pleaded as his hand returned to your hip. "I'd like to feel your skin on mine, not those." You spoke of his jeans.

Of course Arthur wanted the same. He didn't want the boundary of an item of clothing between your body and his, but he wasn't quite sure why he hadn't just removed everything. Perhaps the fear of being caught, or maybe just first time nerves.

He pushed the blanket off of himself and sat up on the bed. His shirt was first to come off, before he stood and removed the rest.

What a sight.

His warm body was soon against yours again, and if you hadn't had such built up anticipation right now, you would've been happy to just enjoy the embrace for the night.

But that wasn't the case.

Arthur wrapped a hand around his cock, tracing your folds with the tip, giving you a taste of what was to come. He wasn't small by any means, and you were excited for it. You rolled your hips back into him, words unavailable. "Alright," he cooed, removing the blanket from the both of you to see himself so close to being inside you.

"You sure this is what you want, now?" You chuckled in disbelief, though you did appreciate him pressing for full consent. "Fuck me, Arthur."

Before you could roll your eyes, Arthur made you do it himself, slowly sliding his tip inside and pulling from you the quietest but most obscene noise.

His hand moved to your inner thigh to part your legs only slightly as he pulled back before going to slide in again. You grabbed his forearm as he pushed in a little deeper, your walls clenching around him almost as tight as your hand was. He was so thick, you were sure to be a little sore by morning.

With soothing words of affirmation he lifted your leg slightly for easier access, and after a few seconds of breathing and adjusting to him, you relaxed for him to move deeper.

"Oh," you sighed between slow thrusts, "this.. was worth.. the wait."

Arthur's chest rumbled against your back, and his hand moved to sit in the dip near your hipbone to pull you closer into him as though it was even possible.

After a few lazy thrusts his hand moved from your hip to snake across your belly and came to rest just below your chest, as if in hesitation. Though he heard no words, only a chuckle against his hand which was promptly moved to cup one of your breasts.

And he finally gave in.

You'd never imagined Arthur to be rough, and you were right. His thrusts that now held more intent held so much love, so much passion it made your insides burn with desire. If you ever had a doubt for his love for you, all that has been washed away with the embrace he has you in. You couldn't get close enough to him, and he couldn't get close enough to you.

He held you so close to his chest, his warm breath tickling the back and side of your neck with each gentle yet sharp exhale.

Your hand moved to the back of his neck, your fingers getting caught in his dirty blonde hair which changed his pace slightly; a little faster but no less passionate. He almost couldn't believe it as he opened his eyes momentarily, your bare skin against his, the warmth, and the glistening at the base of his cock as he pulled out only to slide right back in. Into you.

Your gasp brought him back, a gasp that only meant one thing, you were close. But Arthur didn't want you finishing where he couldn't look you in the eyes.

"Don't," his voice was deep as he pulled out and moved down the bed. Your face was expressionless, not understanding what was going on and feeling a little disappointed and robbed of what would've been your first orgasm by him.

"Don't look at me like darlin'," he cooed, opening your thighs so you'd move to be flat on your back, "I just want to see you better."

Your eyes almost rolled at the comment alone, as if him looming over your body and dragging his cock along your wet folds wasn't doing it enough for you already. His lips met your collarbones and moved up to your neck as his cock met your entrance once more, sliding in with more ease and filling you even more deliciously than it had the first time.

You instinctively placed a leg on his back, pushing down ever so gently asking for more. Arthur hummed but his lips never left your body for long enough to speak. His thrusts grew slightly harder as he moved down to your breasts, kissing and licking the skin before he took his lips to one of your nipples.

Your back arched in surprise and you let out a quiet laugh after your initial shock, making Arthur chuckle with you.

Your moans grew only slightly louder, mixed with giggles and gasps as he worked you as though he'd done it a thousand times before. You were aware that being too loud would probably be the death of you if your father found out that you'd been at it so soon; or at it at all.

"Arthur I'm so close," you panted as he raised his eyes to meet yours. Your skin glistened just as his did, you looked so beautiful under him. "Me too, darlin'."

His lips returned to your neck as he gave you a few more thrusts, lazy and clumsy as he neared his own high. Oh how you'd craved to see him come undone. His forehead came to rest on yours as he gave his final thrusts to push you over the edge. You writhed under him and your walls tightening made him pull out with an urgency you hadn't seen before.

He sat back and did his best to control where he went, decorating your lower stomach though he'd have preferred not to sully you in such a way the first time. As you caught your breath he wiped you down and came to rest beside you once again, only this time in front of you. No words were needed, the both of you truly on cloud nine.

You snuggled into his chest despite still being quite warm, you'd be damned if you were to cut this moment short, this buzzing feeling that coursed through your body. But as the minutes passed you both battled with sleep, and too relaxed to fight it, you let yourself drift off in Arthur's embrace.

For in Arthur's arms was where you were meant to be, and where you hoped to remain forevermore.

It didn't take long for things to escalate. Neither of you had had the luxury of someone else's touch in months, and Dutch's hands on your body were long overdue. His free hand roamed up and down your side as he hummed into the kiss, but he pulled away after a few short seconds to finish his glass. You did the same, and he took the glass from you to put them both safely back beside the gramophone. His lips were back against yours in no time, the taste of Irish whiskey still on them, making him even more intoxicating. You moved a hand to his chest, your fingers intertwining with his golden vest chain, before you slowly started to undo it.

"So eager," he mumbled between kisses. You hummed a quiet chuckle into him, "I've been waiting too long for this to be courteous." He chuckled back and snaked a hand around the back of your neck after allowing you to remove his vest entirely and place it to the side, all while your lips were locked. His shirt buttons were next, and soon enough he was top naked with your fingers tangled in the dark curls adorning his chest. His broad shoulders, the subtle muscle definition, the trail of dark hair that ran down into his pants, his musky amber or maybe even cedar wood smell, you couldn't get enough of him.

You pushed a hand gently against his chest, asking him to take a few steps back until his legs hit the edge of the cot and he had nowhere else to go but down. Now his turn to remove some of your clothing, his fingers fumbled with the buttons on your own shirt as he had you straddle him so that he could place tender kisses over every new little piece of exposed skin. Your core was now directly above his, and you could feel just what you were doing to him as he squirmed under you, looking for that friction he so desperately needed. So you gave it to him as he kissed up to your neck, grinding down and in circles slowly.

His moans were nothing short of carnal, and they created butterflies that fluttered wildly inside of you. You were more than ready for him, and Dutch knew, as his hands made their way to the button of your pants, undoing them before slipping one inside and brushing his fingers lightly over your folds. You shuddered under his touch, and a gentle chuckle escaped him. "Look at you," he purred, "starved." Placing your hands either side of his face, you pulled him in for another kiss to muffle the moans you were trying your best to keep for only him, but backed away for only a brief moment to allow Dutch to help remove the rest of your undergarments.

"Beautiful," he cooed, taking your hand and pulling you towards him, his legs either side of yours. He kissed your stomach, and then up between your breasts, reveling in the way your skin goosebumped. You wanted to ride him, oh so bad, his words only tightening the coil inside you. But you didn't want to do so without seeing his cock out on display for you first. You'd imagined it many a night, and now your hands trembled ever so slightly in anticipation as you fell to your knees and fumbled with the button to release him. Dutch leaned back and placed a hand behind himself, smirking at the gasp that escaped you as he sprung out of his pants.

He was exactly how you'd imagined; big, thick, and nestled within a patch of well kept dark hair. You swallowed thickly as your mouth salivated at the sight, and took your tongue to his tip, all the while your eyes were locked onto his. His chest rumbled as he rediscovered the pleasure, his free hand moving to the back of your head, asking for you to take more of him. And you did. You licked up his shaft and took what you could, hollowing your cheeks every now and again, your stomach flipping and nether regions throbbing with every new moan of his. It was like nothing you'd ever heard before; the baritone, the rumble, and the slight breathlessness and hitched breathing if you stopped or happened to try to take him deeper. It made you feel so dirty, and you loved it.

You sucked and twirled your tongue around him only a little while longer before releasing him with a quiet pop. "Satiate me," you pleaded breathlessly. Dutch hummed and helped you up, immediately pulling you into a kiss to taste himself on your lips as you settled over him once more, knees on the cot and dripping heat hovering over his own. Oh how it turned him on. "Of course," his voice was like honey, "who would I be, to deny you of sustenance." With one hand on your hip, the other went to his cock which he held firmly in his hand below you. "Look at me," he purred, bringing his tip to your entrance, "I want to see those telling eyes when I slide inside you." You hummed and held your bottom lip between your teeth as he pushed in slowly to muffle a whine, his tip alone stretching your neglected heat and making you feel wonderfully full.

"God," you sighed out, not yet comfortable enough to take more of him. "It's okay," he purred, a hand moving to your face, thumb brushing over your cheek, "we'll take it slow." He moved his hand to your other hip as you sank down slowly so that the back of your thighs met the top of his. "Good," Dutch groaned as he was enveloped by your tight warmth, "just like that." A roll of your hips was all it took for him to tighten his grasp. You were sure that you'd have small marks come morning, but they'd be sign of all this having actually been real, and not a dream you'd found yourself in like many a quiet night.

In all your dreams, Dutch had always been rough with you; he'd used you and left you sore and satisfied, but the truth of his ways couldn't have been more different. His thrusts were slow and deep, painful but in a way that made you crave him more. He was one to make you work for it, he didn't move nor touch too much until he'd built the tension inside of you so much that you'd resort to begging for him to fuck you properly. You could sense that he lived for that; the feeling of someone begging, for him. But with the power that he gained through that manipulation came passion. He was passionate in a way you'd never expected nor imagined him to be.

Of course he was chasing his own high, naturally, but he seemed to care for your pleasure more than his own. At least, for now. He was proving to be far more respectful of you and your body than you'd expected, but it came as a very welcome surprise. "You're doing so well," he smiled softly as you rocked your hips slowly into him. He watched you oh so intently, almost as though he was studying you, it made a shiver run down your spine. Moving his hand back down between your now glistening bodies, his eyes not leaving your face, he placed his middle and ring fingers on your bundle of nerves and traced small, slow circles.

"Mm, I know," he chuckled deeply as you tipped your head back with a moan, exposing your throat to him. "It feels good," he licked up your neck, "doesn't it?" You hummed in response, placing a hand on his forearm between you. "To be touched by someone other than yourself. Tell me," he sighed, his warm breath gracing your neck as he hovered over the patch he'd licked, "tell me how long you've wanted this. How long you've been aching for my touch." He watched your throat as you swallowed, a slight smirk on his lips. "Oh, Dutch I've lost count of the days," you moaned, your breath hitching now and again.

"Days?" Dutch repeated, you could hear disbelief in his tone. "And the nights," you added with a smile as you brought your hip rolling to a halt. "So many nights, I've touched myself to the thought of you," you cupped his face in your hands, his eyelids growing heavy with lust at your words, "turned myself into a panting mess at the thought of your hands on my body," he rubbed his thumb over your hipbone, "and now here you are, not only touching me, but buried deep inside." You kissed him through a moan as he bucked his hips gently up into you. "Destiny," Dutch's hand moved back to your cheek, "it's the universe conspiring, to bring you to the place you are meant to be."

"If that's truly the case," you quirked an eyebrow, "then, is this where I'm meant to be, Dutch?" You rocked your hips again, quiet moans rolling off of your tongue. He took a minute to respond, too enamored of the way you moved. "No," he took back his hand and lifted you off of him by your hips. Your stomach turned, wondering if you'd said something wrong, but he only stood and motioned to the cot for you to get comfortable. "You're meant to be under me." With a coy smile and a chuckle of relief, you slid onto the cot, watching his every move until he was sat at the foot of it and practically fucking you with his eyes.

His fingers ran between your thighs before he moved forward, coating a finger in your slick and slipping it inside you. He loved the way your brows furrowed at the stretch, so tight, shiny and new; something for him to break in. With his cock in one hand and the other returning to your hip, he pushed himself in once more, just the tip at first, and then the rest of his length as he watched your eyes roll. "Such sweet sounds." He picked up the pace only slightly, this time doing all the work for you; and god did it feel good. He had a hand rested on your inner thigh as he watched himself thrust in and out of you, the way your bodies met, it was quite beautiful.

The skin on skin was music to your ears, and each deep thrust sent a jolt up your spine as he hit that perfect spot inside you over and over again. You weren't quite sure how he'd already figured you out, but he had. You both knew that it wouldn't be long now until you'd both fall over the metaphorical edge. "You feel so good," he praised as he pulled out slowly before picking up his rhythm again, his hands gripping tighter on your hips and pulling you into him. "So, perfect. Like you were made just for me."

You moaned and whimpered under him, his thrusts making you arch your back and grab onto his forearms, peppered with the crescent moon indents that your nails left behind. "Oh, Dutch," you whined, your leg now propped up on his hip. "Louder," he rumbled, and had the rain not picked up a little while ago maybe you would've been more self conscious. "Oh Dutch, yes!" His pace quickened, quicker than it had been all evening and his thrusts began to grow sloppy. "Again," he commanded, his tone almost scary. "Right there," you bucked up into him, "Oh Dutch, right there!"

And with that he hit that spot deep inside you for the last time and pushed you over the edge, the contractions from your orgasm doing it for him too as he pulled out almost too late and decorated your stomach with his seed. What a sight you were blessed with when you opened your eyes. Dutch, the big boss himself, short of breath and glossy skinned, sat back on the foot of the cot still admiring the mess he'd made of you. You almost didn't believe it to be real. With a contented sigh you let him wipe you down, and after a short minute to catch your breath, you sat up beside him. "Well, I suppose I should get back to my tent," you felt a yawn coming, "sleep seems to be calling for me now."

Dutch nodded and stood, putting himself away and picking up his shirt and your clothes. He helped you up and dressed you first, his aftercare another thing you weren't expecting. You wished you could stay with him longer, share a moment together in bed just enjoying the post climax atmosphere and the warmth of eachother's bodies as you fully came back down. You could tell through his silence that he would've liked that, too. But you both agreed without even discussing that you shouldn't be seen together in such a way. Not just yet. He held the tent flap back for you, the rain having subsided just enough for you to comfortably make it back to your own quarters now.

"Sleep well," he sighed with a smile as you stepped past him. And with a nod you went to step away, but not before giving him a playful "I will."

You untied the leather straps of the cinch, throwing them over the seat of the saddle and pulling it off gently as you listened to Sean draw on, his words already slurred despite having only beaten you back to camp by around a half hour. "I love you bastards," he hiccuped, "now have fun, have lots of fun!" You watched him stumble over to the main table as you carried your saddle across camp to your tent. He joined Uncle, Karen and Javier, the last-mentioned having dressed up in his grey jacket and sombrero for the occasion, and had his guitar on his lap, ready to accompany his drunken camp mates to whichever song they chose, which just so happened to be The Louisville Maid.

You took a carrot back over to your horse and gave it a quick brush down, before removing the bridle and turning it out to graze with the morgans and walkers on the outskirts of camp. You assumed you wouldn't be riding out again for anything too serious in the near future. With that taken care of, you could finally take care of your own tired body, and since you clearly weren't going to be able to sleep anytime soon, you figured that getting some alcohol into your system could wake you up a little. You made your way over to the chuckwagon where you grabbed yourself a beer, popping off the cap and taking your first swig before turning around.

Your eyes wandered, over the table in front of you, to the campfire where Bill was telling a story of his past, and finally to where Dutch, Molly and Mary-Beth stood, and Arthur too, who'd only just returned. Your eyes met Dutch's, who'd clearly been searching for them to do just that. He beckoned you over, stepping to the side as you closed in to stand between himself and Arthur. "So?" He started, taking a puff from his cigar. You sighed, shifting your weight, not wanting to admit that Hosea and Dutch's little plan had actually worked. "Look at her, she's all red," Molly chuckled as she looked past her lover. You could tell her words were said without malicious intent, but it didn't stop you from feeling as though she was making a mockery of you.

You shot her a glance that was subtle enough for the men not to notice, but effective enough for her to know not to say another word. After all, yes, you did feel embarrassed about the whole situation; about the silly grudge you'd held against Javier for so many months, and more so about the fact that someone had to step in and concoct an entire plan just for you to put the squabbling to bed. You'd been made to feel similar to a child, now in the presence of a father figure waiting to hear one thing in particular, to which you complied in fear of being punished. "So," you paused, wanting to prove you were on better terms but without it sounding like you'd become best buds.

"I don't think the bickering will be so frequent anymore, let's put it that way," you shrugged, looking down at your bottle nervously while you awaited Dutch's response. "The idea was for the bickering to stop," he paused, turning to raise an eyebrow at you, "completely." You nodded and looked away briefly, your eyes landing on none other than Javier. "I know, but these things take time. We had a good talk on the ride to Blackwater, and we seem to be on the same page," you turned back to your boss. "I think that's the best we can do, for now." Dutch hummed, taking another puff from his cigar. "It is a step in the right direction, I suppose." You gave him a single nod and a slight smile, hoping to end his questioning there and then.

"Then we'll leave it at that," he turned to the gramophone in his tent, getting it ready to play once the rowdy main table ended their song. "Just make sure we don't have to step in again." You didn't need to reply, instead you took a swig from your bottle and a step closer to Arthur, just out of earshot now of Dutch, Molly and Mary-Beth. "How was your ride back?" You looked up at the man, he seemed as though the only thing he wanted right now was a little peace and quiet and his cot; a bit like yourself. "Fine," he shrugged, his hands not leaving his gunbelt, "quiet, probably the last quiet moment we'll ever get now Sean's back." You laughed quietly to yourself, it was so true.

The man had Karen on his lap now and was singing at the top of his lungs. You stood back and watched with a smile as they finished their next song, and Dutch took the opportunity to stop them from starting another by playing his own music. You watched as he extended a hand to Molly, walking her through the tent to dance on the other side, away from the rest. You'd only had a few opportunities to dance in your years, and you'd enjoyed every single time you had. But tonight you were rather glad for the lack of suitable dance partners, being too tired to do much more than stand and exchange a smile or a word with whoever passed by.

You stood by Arthur in a comfortable silence for the rest of the song, swaying slightly and taking the odd swig. But your bottle seemed endless tonight, and though you didn't want to waste it, you didn't really want to finish it either. You turned your nose up slightly as the sweet, distinct odor of the beverage filled your nostrils. "Arthur," Mary-Beth called from the other side of you, "will you dance with me, Arthur?" Mary-Beth was quiet and her request was rather bold, it was brave of her. You gave Arthur a smile and stepped back to lean against the barrel upon which sat the ledger, your way of telling him not to refuse. "Ahh, why not," he chuckled, "but I'll warn you, Miss Gaskill, I ain't much of a dancer."

His hands were in the air as he made his way over, soon disappearing to the other side of the tent beside Dutch and Molly. You watched as everyone dispersed, taking a break for a few minutes before they'd return to singing and drinking. For a moment you lost sight of Javier, and it didn't trouble you until you regained it, watching him put down his guitar and make his way towards you. Perhaps he was just going to put something in the box, some cash or jewelry he'd found and forgotten until now, or perhaps he was going to walk right past you and grab another beer from the chuckwagon. Your grip tightened around your bottle, your heartbeat increasing with every new step towards you.

"Is this your way of showing me you're not a stick in the mud?" He hummed, his tone playful as he came to a halt beside you. "Stood here, all alone, barely even able to muster a smile?" Your gaze dropped to the grass beneath your boots, a quiet chuckle escaping you. "It's been a long, crazy day for me, Javier," you returned your attention to him, "I'm about ready to turn in." Javier nodded, one hand coming to rest on his gunbelt. "That's not gonna be so easy, with all this noise." You hummed in return, watching as Sean stumbled over to the campfire with Karen in tow. "How about," he turned to you, pulling his knife from its holster, "how about a game, to pass the time."

The moonlight glinted off the metal blade that he twirled in his fingers for extra effect. If someone were to ask if you were immune to the ways his fingers moved, you'd be a nasty liar were you to say yes. "Are you taking advantage of the fact I'm tired?" You raised an eyebrow with a playful smile, "do you need a win that bad?" Javier shrugged, sheathing his knife and returning his dark eyes to yours. "I'll go easy on you," his tone had become almost sultry, though you hoped you'd heard wrong due to your fatigue and intake of alcohol. It could only be that, right? You studied him for a second, Javier doing the same as he awaited your response. "Okay," you spoke softly, standing from the barrel.

"Okay?" Javier seemed surprised you'd accepted. You chuckled, motioning in the direction of the table, "let's see if you're truly as good as they say." Javier scoffed as he sat down at the table opposite you, "why don't you watch and learn." So you did watch as he started the first round, guiding the knife between his fingers, already scarred from failed attempts from many moons ago. He made it look easy, and though you didn't suck at the game yourself, he truly made you look like you did. "Okay, good luck," he stuck his knife into the table, giving you your cue. "Luck's got nothing to do with it," you smiled, pulling your own knife from the table and giving it a little spin before readying yourself.

You completed your go without a scratch, Javier liked your newly found confidence. "You're good," he nodded, taking back his knife, "but it seems like you could handle a little more speed." He went to start the next round, but hesitated as his knife hovered beside his thumb. "No?" You swallowed with a nod. He knew what his words were doing to you, and he could tell that you had no complaints with the way you shifted in your seat at the end of every subtle double entendre. "Why don't you find out," you purred, not knowing where the sexual tension had come from, but it had at full force. You'd always been attracted to Javier, he sure was eye candy amongst the gang. But this kind of attraction was new, and despite scaring you a little, it wasn't entirely unwelcome.

Javier sank his knife into the grain of the table once more with a satisfied look on his face. "Your turn," he sat back and admired the pink dusting over your cheeks as you let out a breath and grabbed your own blade. He reveled in it. Javier's words lingered in your mind as your knife tapped rhythmically on the table: you cleared between your thumb and index finger, then your thumb and middle finger, then your thumb and- "fuck," you made Javier jump, gritting your teeth with a sharp intake of breath as your blade sliced right through the side of your ring finger. Your knife dropped to the ground as you shook your hand, the wound stinging like a paper cut.

Javier watched you bring your finger to your lips, a quiet whimper escaping you as you sucked on the cut to relieve the pain. The sight of you got something brewing deep down inside of him; the way strands of hair fell to frame your face, the way your brows furrowed and your knee bounced as you powered through the sting. Your display had him thinking about what it would be like if the situation were different. What if your reaction had stemmed from an act of pleasure instead of pain? Would you still have a leg shake? Would you still furrow your brows? Would you whimper so sweetly? If he let his mind go any further, he'd be trapped at the table for the next 10 minutes all while having to make awkward excuses about why he couldn't get up.

He wasn't quite sure what had come over him, he hadn't had that much alcohol, so he ultimately chalked it up to the gratification of spending time with a beautiful woman who used to despise him, his thing for knives, and overall, the lack of intimacy he'd had in a very long time. After all, he was sure the other men had thought about sharing a night with you, it just so happened that he had been too busy arguing with you beforehand to realize how truly ravishing you were. "It happens to the best of us," he cleared his throat and sat forward, rubbing one hand over the other that held more scars. "Let me see, though," he extended his arm towards you, "I'm used to dealing with this."

You smiled and placed your hand gently in his, your skin tingling as you made contact. "It's nothing, really," you shrugged while Javier examined you, "I was just a little distracted is all." Javier hummed, "distracted, huh?" He traced over one of your rings slowly with his thumb before letting go of your hand. You brushed your hair back and bent to pick up your knife from where it'd fallen, a way to hide the colour returning to your cheeks. "One more round," you span your knife in your fingers and readied it next to your thumb. Both Javier's hands rested on the table as he sat back once more, "all yours." You completed your final turn flawlessly, Javier nodding, impressed with your time as he readied his own blade.

Of course, he beat your time, spinning his knife at the end of his turn and lodging it into the table all without a single scratch on himself. "You are good," you smirked, "I'm impressed." Javier chuckled back, "well, trust me," he stood, grabbing his knife, "these skills are not only on the table." With that, he holstered his blade, gave you a tip of his hat, and turned on his heel to head back towards the campfire where the others were patiently waiting for him to accompany them on their next song. You took a second to register what had been said before turning around to make sure you were the only one who'd heard. Thankfully, Arthur and the rest were still dancing, and the others were too far away to have been able to overhear.

You took one last look at your finger and stood up too, leaving your bottle on the table to clean up in the morning. If your heat wasn't pulsing with his original flirting, it sure was now, imagining just how well his skilled fingers could work on you. Gosh, a week ago you hated his guts, and now you wanted him in yours. How the tables had turned. You made your way to your tent, the only thing on your mind being sweet release from the tension Javier had knowingly built up inside your lower abdomen. You closed the flaps tightly, undressing to only your undergarments as you did every night and settled into your cot. Your hand immediately roamed your body, making its way under your clothing and down to where you needed it most.

This was oh so risky, but the adrenaline only fueled the fire inside you. You gave yourself what your body was craving, your breathing heavy at the thought of Javier's hand replacing your own, stroking up and down your folds, slick with desire. Seems like you could handle a little more speed, were the words that came to you, picking up your speed and the sound of your whimpers in unison. You were already nearing your high, your heart racing and back arching under your own touch, but you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting- no, needing more before reaching your climax. Your fingers explored more, hitting every single spot, your moans turning into his name. "Javier," you mouthed, your mind running wild with the image of him pleasuring you, "Javi- ah goddamnit!" You fumbled for your covers as he eagerly brushed past the fabric of your tent.

His hands were already fumbling with his belt buckle as he shook the flaps shut. Your heart raced even more and a lump rose to your throat, but instead of being embarrassed and stopping or ordering him to leave at once, you relaxed back into the cot and watched him, continuing to whimper as you pleasured yourself. Javier chuckled and climbed on top of you after he'd freed himself of his belt and jeans, saying he was eager to be inside you was an understatement. He gripped your neck with one hand, squeezing gently as his lips roughly met yours, the other on the cot to support himself. He wasted no time in asking for permission, his tongue was battling yours in a matter of seconds in the steamiest make out you were sure you'd ever had.

"Fuck," he moaned into you before pulling away, his eyes heavy with lust, "you're such a fucking tease, whimpering my name like that." He moved his hand down your undergarments and batted away your own, placing his fingers perfectly on you and soliciting a deep moan of his name. "Que mojadita," he purred, leaning over you to place kisses down your neck. "Is this what I do to you, huh?" He rubbed over your clit before sliding down to your entrance, your legs closing automatically only for him to immediately part them again. "How long have you been wanting this?" He pushed a finger inside, "because I've had thoughts about fucking you for weeks now." He pushed in another finger, slapping his free hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. "That cabin back in the snow? I wanted to take you right there and then, even more so after you gave me attitude."

You were lost for words, the only things you were able to muster being whimpers and moans as he showed off just how skilled he was between your thighs. Javier angled his fingers and slid them in and out of you, his eyes never leaving your face. "So needy," he smirked, "it's almost like you've been saving yourself for me." Your body contorted under his touch, Javier feeling you contract as you neared your high again and slipped his fingers from you, much to your dismay. He grabbed your undergarments and pulled them right off your body, a shaky sigh leaving him as he was graced with the sight of your core. After a few pumps of his cock, he grabbed your thighs and pulled you towards him, lining his head up at your entrance. "I'll make you wait no longer," he sighed, watching you wince as he slid himself into you slowly.

Your eyes rolled at the feeling of him filling you, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you like he'd said he wanted to- and of course Javier wasn't far behind on that. His hands gripped your thighs as he picked up in both speed and strength, thankful for Dutch's music and the drunken singing that would drown out each of your moans. "Fuck," you whined, "fuck Javier, you feel s-so good," you moved a hand to his clothed chest, grabbing onto whatever you possibly could. "You take it so well," his tone made your insides butterfly even more than they already were, "and you look even more beautiful doing so." His words were enough to want to let yourself fall over the edge, and by the look on his face he wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer either.

With a few last rough thrusts and his thumb on your clit, you writhed under him as you came, moaning his name between heavy breathing. Hearing his name that way was enough for Javier too, he pulled out and finished on your stomach only just in time to prevent any accidents, his breathing heavy and skin glistening almost as much as yours. He sat back on his heels and admired the hot mess he'd made of you, legs spread and dripping; you were truly dick drunk. He stroked his hand gently over your core, smirking as your leg twitched from overstimulation before he stood from the bed to put himself away. His eyes were still half lidded as he found a towel in your tent and wiped you down, much to your surprise. You honestly expected him to fuck you and leave you before anyone could find out, yet here he was, being a gentleman.

"You should get some rest," he cooed, throwing the towel to the side and heading towards the flaps of the tent. "Quite the day you've had." You could only hum in response, to which he chuckled softly. And just like that, Javier disappeared just as quickly as he'd came, leaving you throbbing from him and honestly, in a true state of disbelief.

Part 7

The noise deafened you as the dynamite blew, and the smoke that came billowing out of the room made your eyes burn. "Goddamnit," you coughed, wishing now that you'd chosen the quiet approach of playing with the combination lock. "We don't have time to waste, move!" Dutch ushered you and Bill forward, through the light grey cloud and into the room that you all had threatened the bank teller with his life had he not opened the door to. You ran over to one of the vaults, the door blown clean off and Bill ran to the other to shove the wads of cash into the saddlebags you'd brought, all while Dutch kept watch in the doorway.

The clattering of hooves came first, quickly moving in your direction and growing louder by the second. Then the police whistles and the frantic running and screaming of all the Saint Denis residents in the area as they fled the scene from what they weren't even sure. Minute two, time to run. You threw the saddlebag over your shoulder and followed Bill out of the room, Dutch taking up the rear to cover you as you made your escape through a personnel entrance you'd scouted out the back earlier that week. Lucky for you, the police hadn't yet made it to that exit, and the three of you took off into the dark alleyways of the city.

By minute three, you'd managed to evade a few police men chasing you and their bullets that flew within grazing distance of your bodies, and made it to the main road near the cemetery where your horses had been strategically placed for a quick ride out of town. Digging in your spurs, you all galloped your horses down the street until cobbles turned into dirt, past the corn fields, past the cows and the barn, and into the muddy bayou where the whistling and shouting grew faint. Escaping had been far easier than you'd expected, no lead had even left your pistol, but you didn't want to be the one to celebrate too soon.

With minute four came silence between you all, everyone listening for any law from any and every direction as you kept riding towards Lagras, where you'd planned to wait it out until the heat died down and the trails back to Shady Belle would definitely be clear. You'd taken a fair amount of cash, enough for you all to truly start thinking about getting out of the swamps and out west like originally planned, and you'd be damned if you were to let the law take it and your lives simultaneously just because you wanted to rush back with the good news. You turned to Dutch with a smile for a job well done, and the both of you turned to Bill, who in turn didn't look so happy.

"What happened?" Your smile vanished, noticing his saddlebag was no longer on his shoulder. "Oh, Bill," Dutch sighed, turning his horse back towards Saint Denis. "Dutch, no- you can't go back in there," you sat back in your saddle, assuming he was smart enough not to. It was a death sentence; surely he wouldn't take the risk. "We need the money," his voice was deep and threatening out of anger at Bill's mistake. He clicked his tongue and began to walk The Count away from you, his gaze lingering on Bill who now looked like a rabbit in headlights. You shook your head and pinched the bridge of your nose, "well, I'm coming with you."

Before Dutch could protest, you'd trotted over and taken the lead, your eyes on the ground and scanning for the lost saddlebag. That was minute five; riding back along the trail you'd previously taken, looking for a bag which, to make life more difficult, was of a colour that blended perfectly with the surrounding flora. By minute six you'd made it back to the barn and the cornfields you'd raced past not too long ago, thanking your lucky star as you saw the missing bag sitting on the side of the trail just a few feet away from said barn. You dismounted and ran to pick it up, Dutch atop his steed still and keeping his eye on the surroundings. You could hear hollering coming from the city still, policemen on the hunt.

"On your horse," Dutch commanded, his eyes not leaving the law he'd spotted starting to make their way out of town, "now." You followed his gaze and shared his concern, your stomach flipping at the thought of what could happen were they to spot you. "No," you stood back, just out of their line of sight, "it's too late." Dutch looked at you, both confusion and concern coming over him. "There's no way they won't see The Count, he's as bright as can be with this moonlight," your voice was shaky, panicked. "We have to hide," you motioned to the barn, "wait it out." Dutch nodded and threw his leg over The Count's neck, "good thinking." He offered to take the second saddlebag from you, which you accepted.

With a pat on his rump, The Count took off into the night with your own steed in tow, and yourself and Dutch swiftly made your way over to the barn, climbing over the crates that were blocking your way and standing behind a few that were stacked. You were still exposed to the open air, but you hoped that with the barricade of big wooden boxes that surrounded you, you wouldn't be spotted. The world around you seemed to grow quiet, with nothing but your heartbeat to contend the army of hooves coming your way. "Dutch," you whispered as you felt yourself get a little light headed, "I don't feel good about this." Dutch furrowed his brows but brought his finger to his lips to shush you, the lawmen only getting closer by the second.

"I don't think I can do it," your voice came with more urgence this time. It felt as though the barricade was closing in on you and that the air was getting thinner. "Why did I have this idea, we could be long gone by now. I'm gonna get us caught, Dutch." You began to pace, "we need to go, into the cornfields." You went to move further, but Dutch grabbed you by the sleeve of your duster and pulled you gently back against the barn wall, trapping you between his forearms. "If we run off and rustle the crop now we're as good as dead," his hushed voice still held such commanding. "Be quiet, stay still." You nodded and tried your best, but the sense of impending doom was quickly overwhelming you, all you wanted to do was give into your flight response.

Dutch gave you a look signaling that they were almost upon your location, so you'd best hold your tongue if you didn't want a rope around your neck come sunrise. You shook your head and scrunched your eyes shut as you listened to the hooves and hushed chatter between the mounted lawmen. "I can't," you whimpered, just loud enough for him to grunt in disapproval at your disobedience. "You're certainly going the right way about getting us caught," he spoke through almost gritted teeth. "I'm sorry, I can't do th-" you were silenced as Dutch raised your chin and put his lips to yours as a last resort. "I said," he whispered into you, "be quiet."

Minute seven, you were pinned under Dutch van der Linde.

You expected the kiss to be short lived, a peck on the lips was all to stun you into silence as the lawmen walked past, their lanterns shining over the barn briefly before moving on. But his hand moved to cup your jaw and squeezed slightly, breaking the kiss for mere seconds to admire you and make sure you were okay with it. He was met with your half lidded eyes, and his chest rumbled a deep chuckle as he took that as a sign to lean in for another. His hand moved down to your neck, his grip not so tight once he parted his lips from yours once more. "We should probably get back to Bill," he released you from his grasp and stepped back. "Right," you cleared your throat and dusted your coat off, "I'd hate for him to get caught coming to look for us."

Dutch sighed and began his way back towards the front of the barn. "Yeah, well," he vaulted over the boxes, "maybe it would serve him right for almost losing half of our score." You hummed, following him over the boxes and whistling for your horse. "You jest, surely." Dutch only shrugged before gripping his saddle and mounting up, waiting for you to do the same. You quickly and quietly made your way back to Lagras after that, avoiding the many gators that guarded the swampland, and laid low until the early morning. With sunrise came the new wave of warmth, the air sticky and heavy. You sure were looking forward to getting back to Shady Belle, to change into something cooler and take a nap in your tent, conveniently shaded by one of the larger trees.

You woke up in the late afternoon feeling a little groggy from your nap, your brow damp and throat dry; you cursed the bayou. You spun your body and placed your legs over the side of your cot, slipping your feet into your boots you'd strategically placed so as not to touch the mucky floor below. With a stretch and a quiet groan, you stood up and fixed your clothes before brushing past the flaps of the canvas and heading straight for the chuckwagon. You needed a drink, and although you didn't particularly want neither coffee nor alcohol, you didn't have much other choice. Instead you settled for some fruit, the juice from the ripe peach you'd chosen quenching you plenty.

Once you felt better in yourself, you decided to adjourn to the campfire, settling yourself on the log once everyone had greeted and congratulated you on the great score. You spent the next hour talking them through the heist, how you'd escaped and especially how Bill had messed up, but you made sure to leave out the part where their own boss had had you up against the wall. If that got out, not only would you never live it down, you'd also get an earful about loyalty and respect from those who still believed he felt for Molly. With dinner came more conversation, and afterwards came music and even a little singing, to celebrate the successful robbing of the Saint Denis bank.

But as the evening came to an end and everyone starting wishing camp goodnight, Dutch approached you by the fire where you were still sat, now on your own. "Beautiful night," he started, the cigar crackling between his lips as he took a puff. "It sure is," you smiled to yourself. You'd felt as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, as though maybe things would be just fine after all now you were sat on a fair bit of cash, it made the night feel different, the atmosphere was calmer. "Did you need something?" You inquired, looking over your shoulder just enough to see Dutch's silhouette. "I'd like a word with you," his tone was enticing, "if you don't mind." He motioned to his tent, not really leaving you any room to refuse.

"Of course," you gave him a nod, standing and making your way over. A knot grew in your stomach with each step as it wasn't often that Dutch had anyone inside his tent nowadays, who knew what he had up his sleeve. He stepped past you and parted the canvas to let you into his dwelling, a sight you rarely saw since he preferred to keep the flaps shut be he inside or not. "I feel foolish asking such a thing, but," you turned to him as he let the canvas fall behind you both, "am I in trouble?" Dutch only let out a deep chuckle as he made his way over to the barrel upon which sat his gramophone, as well as a full bottle of Irish whiskey. "I wanted to congratulate you personally," he poured you both a glass, "on a job well done."

You took the glass from him with a smile and clinked them together before taking your first sip. His eyes never left yours as you both did, the familiar feeling from earlier resurfacing in your lower stomach. "I appreciate it," you swilled the liquid around in the bottom of the glass, "but I can't take too much credit for it. After all, you were the one who went back in there, I only followed." Dutch hummed, moving to sit in a chair beside the gramophone. "But you did so without second thought. More than I can say for Bill." You nodded softly, sitting on his cot as he motioned for you to do so. "I suppose you got me there."

"It's something I've always admired you for," he finished his own glass, "you are fiercely loyal." You chuckled softly, "well, of course. What else is there?" But your good mood was quickly brought to an end when Dutch replied; "but to what end?" You weren't too sure how to react, you'd been loyal to him and the rest of his people for near a year now, and you'd just risked your life following him back into the hotzone earlier that day. Was he really questioning your loyalty after all that? Had his praise been but a means of luring you into a false sense of security so that he could 'crack you' easier and have you reveal that you had ill intentions all along?

"Dutch," you kept your composure, "whatever makes you think there would be an end to my loyalty?" Dutch poured himself another glass, offering you one which you declined. "It's hard to know who I can trust, these days," he took a sip, "how do I know that you're not just being a.. suck up, so that you can gain my full trust, and betray me in the end?" You shook your head, brows furrowed as you tried to understand where all this was coming from. "When have I ever given you reason to doubt my loyalty to you?" He only shrugged, a slight smirk on his face as he swilled his glass, his rings clinking against it. "It's either that, or, your loyalty comes from somewhere else."

You looked defeated, and he took your facial expression as a sign to elaborate. "If I may be so bold, I'm starting to suspect that you may have a fondness," he paused. "A fondness for what, Dutch?" He only chuckled deeply at your naiveté and took another sip. "Me." You took another sip in turn, your eyes never leaving his as you tried to keep your cool. How, you thought, had he seen right through you? It wasn't as though you'd buckled when he'd kissed you, you'd just played along. "Am I wrong?" Well, no. He wasn't. But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing so easily. You finished your drink and placed the glass to the side before turning your full body to him.

"Well, if that were to be the truth, it would only benefit you," you paused, "to have someone follow you blindly, not because you saved them and earned their unwavering loyalty in return, but because they're devoting themselves to you, to serving you, to protecting you, all out of love. It's rather beautiful, if you ask me." Dutch sat back in his chair, the dim orange lantern light illuminating his features so perfectly. "Beautiful indeed," he spoke slowly, "but love, love is just as dangerous. Will I be betrayed if I don't reciprocate it?" You lowered your head with a light chuckle, "well, since that's not the case, I don't think it's something you need to be concerning yourself with."

"Not the case?" Dutch questioned, to which he only got a teasing hum in response. "Then I suppose you won't mind me saying that me pinning you up against that barn wall was strictly out of concern for my own safety." You nodded assuredly, even though his comment had struck you deep down. "Why else. I thought nothing of it." Dutch leaned forward with a slight shake of his head, "that's not exactly what your eyes told me," he quirked an eyebrow, "is it?" You shrugged nonchalantly, "maybe you're not as good at reading people as you think."

He could sense the playful tone in your voice, and with a smirk on his lips he stood, placing the glass back on the barrel and closing the space between the two of you. "It's not wise," he stopped between your parted legs and lifted your chin with his thumb and forefinger so your eyes met his, "to lie to me." He had you tongue tied, receiving nothing but a soft smile in return to his remark. "Nor is it wise to feel this way towards me." He stepped away, moving to the tent flaps to prop one open for a little fresh air. "Now, I know you're no fool," he paused, "so I'll ask again. Which is it?"

Your silence was answer enough, and though Dutch had been surveying camp when he'd asked, his full attention was now back on you. "I see," he paused, before turning back to camp, slightly perturbed, almost as though he was expecting a different answer. "Listen," you started softly after a moment of silence, "I should be on my way." You stood up and stepped beside him, where you paused for a second. "Thank you, for the drink." Dutch only hummed at first, but spoke as you went to step away. "I hope this isn't ground for you to betray me," he shrugged gently, "considering you jumped to the conclusion that your feelings weren't reciprocated."

"I-" you stopped in your tracks, "I'm sorry?" Dutch smirked and shifted his weight, his hands now coming to cross his chest; not so secretly feeling a little awkward about his confession. "I think you heard me just fine," his tone was slightly defensive, so you took it as a sign not to press him any further. Instead, you let your gaze drop to the floor between the two of you with a smile and a sharp exhale in disbelief. "I did," your smile hadn't left your lips as you looked back up at him. "But I should still be on my way," you motioned towards your own tent, "it's pretty late and I have some new leads to chase tomorrow."

"Alright then," he sighed through a smile, thankful that you hadn't tried to toy with him. You plucked up the courage to place a hand on his forearm, and with a gentle squeeze you gave him one last smile before you headed back to your tent under the cover of darkness. Only, you weren't going to get any shut-eye tonight; it would be truly impossible after the realization that the Dutch van der Linde was smitten, and with none other than yourself. You imagined many a scenario with him as you got ready to slip under the thin cloth cover of your cot, and even more as you lied there with your eyes closed, more vivid and real than ever before.

You tossed and turned for at least an hour, trying your best to fall asleep to the sweet lullaby of the frogs and crickets in the surrounding bayou, but now not only was your mind racing, your nether regions also had a pulse; product of a few scandalous scenarios you'd been making up. And you'd had these thoughts before. After all, you'd been toying with the idea of confessing to him for a long while, but didn't want to face the embarrassment and heartbreak were he to dismiss you. But now Dutch had admitted to returning your feelings for him, sharing a cot with him seemed all the more possible, and your desires were all the more present as a result.

To the point where the tension was becoming unbearable, and out of lack of wanting to satisfy yourself, you sat up and pulled on your boots with the plan of being sat in Dutch's lap within the next ten minutes. You tried to step quietly across camp, but the brief yet heavy rainfall you'd had as you'd tossed and turned had left the ground damp, it squelched beneath your boots, and it seemed to be starting back up again. With a hand over your head, you picked up the pace and made it to the flaps of his tent, pushing them aside and jumping into shelter without second thought about what Dutch may do to an intruder in the night.

Lucky for you, he'd been too busy with his nose in a book to react in a way that could've caused you harm. The rain had drowned out your footsteps, and he'd been none the wiser to your presence before you'd clumsily breached the threshold. "Oh, do come in." His tone full of sarcasm as he closed his book over his thumb. "Forgive me," you smiled sheepishly, "I didn't mean to barge in like that I just- it started raining and-", Dutch stopped you with a chuckle, folding the corner of his page and setting the book to the side. "To what do I owe the pleasure at such a late hour?"

Suddenly your mind went blank, what were you to respond? That you'd marched over there with the sole intention of riding him into the early hours of the morning? No. "I couldn't sleep," you started, "and I guess I was just wondering that if maybe I had another glass, it would do the trick." Dutch gave you a single nod and stood up, pouring out two drinks the same way he'd done only a few hours prior. "Here," he closed the space between you and passed you the glass, "try this." You thanked him and took your first sip, only your eyes never left his, nor his yours.

Dutch raised his hand to your face slowly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone before gliding down and repeating the same soft motion across your bottom lip. "Is a drink, all that you came for?" He questioned, his index finger curled under your chin and lifting slightly. "Because once again, my dear, your eyes are telling me otherwise." With a hum you looked up at him. "I stand corrected," you paused, "maybe you are good at reading people after all." And with a smirk on his face, Dutch stepped closer so that your bodies met, and placed his lips tenderly against yours.

(f!reader version of the following scene)

It didn't take long for things to escalate. Neither of you had had the luxury of someone else's touch in months, and Dutch's hands on your body were long overdue. His free hand roamed up and down your side as he hummed into the kiss, but he pulled away after a few short seconds to finish his glass. You did the same, and he took the glass from you to put them both safely back beside the gramophone. His lips were back against yours in no time, the taste of Irish whiskey still on them, making him even more intoxicating. You moved a hand to his chest, your fingers intertwining with his golden vest chain, before you slowly started to undo it.

"So eager," he mumbled between kisses. You hummed a quiet chuckle into him, "I've been waiting too long for this to be courteous." He chuckled back and snaked a hand around the back of your neck after allowing you to remove his vest entirely and place it to the side, all while your lips were locked. His shirt buttons were next, and soon enough he was top naked with your fingers tangled in the dark curls adorning his chest. His broad shoulders, the subtle muscle definition, the trail of dark hair that ran down into his pants, his musky amber or maybe even cedar wood smell, you couldn't get enough of him.

You pushed a hand gently against his chest, asking him to take a few steps back until his legs hit the edge of the cot and he had nowhere else to go but down. Now his turn to remove some of your clothing, his fingers fumbled with the buttons on your own shirt as he had you straddle him so that he could place tender kisses over every new little piece of exposed skin. Your core was now directly above his, and you could feel just what you were doing to him as he squirmed under you, looking for that friction he so desperately needed. So you gave it to him as he kissed up to your neck, grinding down and in circles slowly.

His moans were nothing short of carnal, and they created butterflies that fluttered wildly inside of you. You were more than ready for him, and Dutch knew, as his hands made their way to the button of your pants, undoing them before slipping one inside. You shuddered under his touch, and a gentle chuckle escaped him. "Look at you," he purred, "starved." Placing your hands either side of his face, you pulled him in for another kiss to muffle the moans you were trying your best to keep for only him, but backed away for only a brief moment to allow Dutch to help remove the rest of your clothes.

And as much as you wanted to ride him, you didn't want to do so without seeing his cock out on display for you first. You'd imagined it many a night, and now your hands trembled ever so slightly in anticipation as you fell to your knees and fumbled with the button to release him. Dutch leaned back and placed a hand behind himself, smirking at the gasp that escaped you as he sprung out of his pants. He was exactly how you'd imagined; big, thick, and nestled within a patch of well kept dark hair. You swallowed thickly as your mouth salivated at the sight and took your tongue to his tip, all the while your eyes were locked onto his.

His chest rumbled as he rediscovered the pleasure, his free hand moving to the back of your head, asking for you to take more of him. And you did. You licked up his shaft and took what you could, hollowing your cheeks every now and again, your stomach flipping and nether regions throbbing with every new moan of his. It was like nothing you'd ever heard before; the baritone, the rumble, and the slight breathlessness and hitched breathing if you stopped or happened to try to take him deeper. It made you feel so dirty, and you loved it. You sucked and twirled your tongue around him only a little while longer before releasing him with a quiet pop. "Satiate me," you pleaded breathlessly.

Dutch hummed and helped you up, immediately pulling you into a kiss to taste himself on your lips as you settled over him once more, knees on the cot and heat hovering over his own. Oh how it turned him on. "Of course," his voice was like honey, "who would I be, to deny you of sustenance." With one hand on your hip, the other went to his cock which he held firmly in his hand below you. "Look at me," he purred, bringing his tip to your entrance, "I want to see those telling eyes when I slide inside you." You hummed and held your bottom lip between your teeth as he pushed in slowly to muffle a whine, his tip alone stretching your neglected heat and making you feel wonderfully full.

"God," you sighed out, not yet comfortable enough to take more of him. "It's okay," he purred, a hand moving to your face, thumb brushing over your cheek, "we'll take it slow." He moved his hand to your other hip as you sank down slowly so that the back of your thighs met the top of his. "Good," Dutch groaned as he was enveloped by your tight warmth, "just like that." A roll of your hips was all it took for him to tighten his grasp. You were sure that you'd have small marks come morning, but they'd be sign of all this having actually been real, and not a dream you'd found yourself in like many a quiet night.

In all your dreams, Dutch had always been rough with you; he'd used you and left you sore and satisfied, but the truth of his ways couldn't have been more different. His thrusts were slow and deep, painful but in a way that made you crave him more. He was one to make you work for it, he didn't move nor touch too much until he'd built the tension inside of you so much that you'd resort to begging for him to fuck you properly. You could sense that he lived for that; the feeling of someone begging, for him. But with the power that he gained through that manipulation came passion. He was passionate in a way you'd never expected nor imagined him to be.

Of course he was chasing his own high, naturally, but he seemed to care for your pleasure more than his own. At least, for now. He was proving to be far more respectful of you and your body than you'd expected, but it came as a very welcome surprise. "You're doing so well," he smiled softly as you rocked your hips slowly into him. He watched you oh so intently, almost as though he was studying you, it made a shiver run down your spine. Moving his hand back down between your now glistening bodies, his eyes not leaving your face, he began to give you that little extra stimulation.

"Mm, I know," he chuckled deeply as you tipped your head back with a moan, exposing your throat to him. "It feels good," he licked up your neck, "doesn't it?" You hummed in response, placing a hand on his forearm between you. "To be touched by someone other than yourself. Tell me," he sighed, his warm breath gracing your neck as he hovered over the patch he'd licked, "tell me how long you've wanted this. How long you've been aching for my touch." He watched your throat as you swallowed, a slight smirk on his lips. "Oh, Dutch I've lost count of the days," you moaned, your breath hitching now and again.

"Days?" Dutch repeated, you could hear disbelief in his tone. "And the nights," you added with a smile as you brought your hip rolling to a halt. "So many nights, I've touched myself to the thought of you," you cupped his face in your hands, his eyelids growing heavy with lust at your words, "turned myself into a panting mess at the thought of your hands on my body," he rubbed his thumb over your hipbone, "and now here you are, not only touching me, but buried deep inside." You kissed him through a moan as he bucked his hips gently up into you. "Destiny," Dutch's hand moved back to your cheek, "it's the universe conspiring, to bring you to the place you are meant to be."

"If that's truly the case," you quirked an eyebrow, "then, is this where I'm meant to be, Dutch?" You rocked your hips again, quiet moans rolling off of your tongue. He took a minute to respond, too enamored of the way you moved. "No," he took back his hand and lifted you off of him by your hips. Your stomach turned, wondering if you'd said something wrong, but he only stood and motioned to the cot for you to get comfortable. "You're meant to be under me." With a coy smile and a chuckle of relief, you slid onto the cot, watching his every move until he was sat at the foot of it and practically fucking you with his eyes.

His fingers ran between your thighs before he moved forward, his cock in one hand and the other returning to your hip. He pushed himself in once more, just the tip at first, and then the rest of his length as he watched your eyes roll. "Such sweet sounds," he cooed in response to your breathy moans. He picked up the pace only slightly, this time doing all the work for you; and god did it feel good. He had a hand rested on your inner thigh as he watched himself thrust in and out of you, the way your bodies met, it was quite beautiful.

The skin on skin was music to your ears, and each deep thrust sent a jolt up your spine as he hit that perfect spot inside you over and over again. You weren't quite sure how he'd already figured you out, but he had. You both knew that it wouldn't be long now until you'd both fall over the metaphorical edge. "You feel so good," he praised as pulled out slowly before picking up his rhythm again, his hands gripping tighter on your hips and pulling you into him. "So, perfect. Like you were made just for me."

You moaned and whimpered under him, his thrusts making you arch your back and grab onto his forearms, peppered with the crescent moon indents that your nails left behind. "Oh, Dutch," you whined, your leg now propped up on his hip. "Louder," he rumbled, and had the rain not picked up a little while ago maybe you would've been more self conscious. "Oh Dutch, yes!" His pace quickened, quicker than it had been all evening and his thrusts began to grow sloppy. "Again," he commanded, his tone almost scary. "Right there," you bucked up into him, "Oh Dutch, right there!"

And with that he hit that spot deep inside you for the last time and pushed you over the edge, the contractions from your orgasm doing it for him too as he pulled out almost too late and decorated your stomach with his seed. What a sight you were blessed with when you opened your eyes. Dutch, the big boss himself, short of breath and glossy skinned, sat back on the foot of the cot still admiring the mess he'd made of you. You almost didn't believe it to be real. With a contented sigh you let him wipe you down, and after a short minute to catch your breath, you sat up beside him. "Well, I suppose I should get back to my tent," you felt a yawn coming, "sleep seems to be calling for me now."

Dutch nodded and stood, putting himself away and picking up his shirt and your clothes. He helped you up and dressed you first, his aftercare another thing you weren't expecting. You wished you could stay with him longer, share a moment together in bed just enjoying the post climax atmosphere and the warmth of eachother's bodies as you fully came back down. You could tell through his silence that he would've liked that, too. But you both agreed without even discussing that you shouldn't be seen together in such a way. Not just yet. He held the tent flap back for you, the rain having subsided just enough for you to comfortably make it back to your own quarters now.

"Sleep well," he sighed with a smile as you stepped past him. And with a nod you went to step away, but not before giving him a playful "I will."

You pushed past the fabric and grabbed your blanket. Charles had his own, and you needed some extra warmth if you were to sit out in the chilly morning air for the next few hours. "All set?" He chuckled, watching you wrap it around your shoulders. "All set,” you nodded, wishing Charles a good few hours of rest, before heading over to your horse. "Hey buddy," you smiled, pulling a sugar cube from your saddlebag and offering it to your mount. You gave your horse a pat, and took your Lancaster repeater from the saddle, as well as a cloth and some gun oil. It'd been a while since you'd used your own repeater, it could do with a good clean before the mess you were bound to get into. You made your way over to Charles' bedroll. He'd moved it during the night, from the tent over to a tree, sheltered from prying eyes. You sat down and pulled the blanket up over your shoulders more, getting to work on your dusty firearm. Your thoughts wandered, going to the last time you'd been able to properly use it.

It was quite a while before Blackwater, before you were even chased out of New Austin, and your first and only mission with another gang member. Out of all the members of the gang, Arthur had been one of the most welcoming, and the first to offer you ride out with him. He'd always loved listening to the stories of your life before the gang, but he had a hard time believing that a young woman like yourself could have done so well going it alone for as long as you did. He wanted to see if it was just all talk, so he'd asked you to meet him down at Gaptooth Ridge. He'd heard talk of a caravan coming from Mexico, stopping at Benedict Point to load its cargo onto a train, before said cargo would head all the way to Thieves Landing. He wanted to intercept it before it reached the station, and intercept it you did. You returned to camp a few days later, with a brand new wagon, and a large crate full of rifles and repeaters. You'd shown him what you were capable of that day, but you'd never been asked out, or even named for a potential job since. Not until now.

"You oughta keep your eye on the horizon," Javier's voice came from behind you. You looked up from your work; he was right. The town's lawmen were out and about again, cresting the horizon, surveilling their surroundings. "They're not close enough to worry." You shrugged, returning your focus to your weapon. "For all they know, we're just a couple of friends out on an overnight hunting trip or.. something like that." Javier walked past you, lighting up his first cigarette of the day, and leaning on the tree that was sheltering you. "Are we?" He smirked. You raised your head again, reluctantly. "Are we what?" Javier took a long drag, his gaze turning to the plains, and then back towards you. "Never mind." You sighed and set your repeater to the side. "You got another one of those?" You gestured to his cigarette, to which he nodded. You stood up and closed the space, taking one from the pack and placing it between your lips. Javier beckoned with his finger for you to come closer, and as you did, he placed the tip of his cigarette against yours.

You inhaled, trying to avoid any eye contact. This wasn't the sort of interaction you were expecting to have so early in the morning, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the bolt of energy it sent coursing through your body. You pulled back and showed Javier a slight smile, taking a drag and a few steps away so that you could have a clearer view of the plains. "I wish we had coffee," you turned your nose up at the taste of tobacco. Javier hummed in agreement, watching you waste the cigarette after a minute or so and put it out with your boot. Watching the bison roam again this morning, the hazy atmosphere and the birdsong, it made you feel something, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. "Do you.. ever miss home?" You asked Javier shyly. The answer was obvious, but you hoped that he would answer some of your own questions. "All the time." His head dropped to his boots. You turned your gaze to him, your arms wrapped around yourself, rubbing slightly to warm yourself up. "What does that feel like?" Javier shrugged gently, before turning his eyes to yours. "Like a part of me is always missing.. or like I don't always belong."

You sighed, feeling a little guilty for having asked a question on such a sensitive subject. "I know what I'm feeling will never amount to what you are," you started. "But I miss the Plains, and New Austin. There's only so much mud I can take before I wish it was the dust we used to kick up that way." Javier moved closer to you, having finished his cigarette and wanting to see the same view as you. "Remember the time we set up camp in Rio Bravo?" Javier nodded, shifting in the cool breeze. "When all my work was done, I'd ride out, around Plainview, along the border, but I'd always end up in the same spot." You offered him one end of the blanket you still had around your shoulders, which he accepted, wrapping himself next to you. "Down a small ravine that came out to a little spot right on the bank of the San Luis river." Javier crossed his arms, enjoying the moment of peace between you. "It was so peaceful, secluded. And I had a perfect view of the canyon arch over on the other side. I could've sat there for hours. I did, in fact." You smiled, wishing you could go back, even if just for a moment.

"I used to ride around there, once upon a time." Javier's voice was quiet. "It was a good place to clear my mind." You turned to him, your expression a little regretful, once again. "Clear your mind?" He nodded, his hand moving to scratch his chin. "The people with the power there? Ah." He batted the air. "I tried to change them, but they're so stuck in their ways, and their ways are so wrong. They'd kill you for having an opinion other than what they wanted you to have. Sometimes, all I could do, was ride away for a few days, to keep myself from doing something I'd regret." He paused for a moment. "But I also spent a lot of my time there," his gaze turned to you, "because of a woman." You looked away, your cheeks starting to warm from such close eye contact. "I'm starting to see a pattern." You smirked. "Indeed," Javier sighed. "Does it have a name, the arch?" You wanted to move away from the woman he spoke of, you could see by his body language that it was still a sore subject, even after all these years. "Ojo del Diablo, eye of the devil."

You frowned upon hearing it. "I wasn't expecting something so ominous." Javier chuckled. "My mother told me it was named that way, because it had seen many bad people pass through. I guess I ended up being one of them." He sounded slightly ashamed. Javier's hand moved to his gunbelt, brushing against your arm as he went. You were starting to realize that, maybe, being in his company, wasn't such a bad thing. "They say a legendary cat lives there too, though I've never been fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of him." You chuckled slightly. "A cat?" Javier nodded, looking down to you. "A-a big cat, a jaguar. They call him Khan." Your eyes dropped to your boots with another soft laugh. "I suppose that's a little more credible than the Chupacabra, huh." Javier's brows furrowed, surprised you even knew of the mythical beast. "Don't speak its name, it'll come for you." Your gaze snapped back to Javier's. "That's a thing?" He shrugged dramatically. "I'm gonna go take a look over Blackwater, see if Trelawny is down there. I'll see you later." And with that, he left you to think over the fact you may have just sealed your fate.

"About time you showed up," you smiled as Arthur rode up to where you'd camped. "Javier spotted Trelawny in town not too long ago, he should be around soon with more details, then we can move in." Arthur jumped down off his horse and walked over to you, handing you a small flask. "For you, for not having killed Javier yet." You showed him a smile. "Isn't it a little early for liquor?" Arthur smirked and took a few steps closer, grabbing your hand and placing the flask in it. "It's warm," you gasped, "is this coffee?" Arthur nodded and let out a gentle hum, starting to walk over to Javier, and Charles who'd been up for a while now. "You're a dear." You shouted after him. You watched as he settled himself between his two fellow camp mates, stealing the binoculars off Charles as he did. "Where is that little Irish bastard?" It wasn't long until you spotted Trelawny, creeping up the side of the hill towards you. He tipped his hat, but didn't stop to chat; more important matters were at hand. You sipped on your coffee while you listened to the men talk, thinking about whether to involve yourself more, though, you could hear everything just fine from where you were.

"Sean is being moved up the Upper Montana," Josiah started, news that was surprising to you and the boys alike, "then to a federal prison out West." He kneeled down, out of view of the passing lawmen below. "We can't be rescuing people from some federal prison." Arthur grumbled, followed by something about cutting Sean loose, though he was quickly shut down by Charles. "Ike Skelding's boys are moving him to a camp nearby, before handing him over to the government," Trelawny continued. "We should stop them before they get to that camp,” you spoke up, “I'm not too familiar with Skelding's boys, but they must have some real firepower if they're being trusted to transport West Elizabeth's most wanted." You took the last sip and slipped the flask into your pocket. Arthur nodded, setting up a plan for Charles to head on over to the North side, while you'd cover the valley with Javier and Arthur himself. "Come on, let's go see." Arthur spoke quietly, the boys moving back from their scouting spot and towards where you were still sat.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, (y/n)," Trelawny offered a hand to help you up off the ground. "Has this become a regular thing, you joining the boys?" He smiled. "No," you sighed. "I guess you haven't been around much these last few months. Javier and I haven't been getting along, the boss man decided this would be a good bonding experience." You smirked, using air quotes. "You listen to Mr van der Linde, young lady. He knows what he's doing." Trelawny waited for you as you patted yourself down, the others having walked past and mounted up already. "Yeah, well, I question that sometimes," you picked up your repeater, placing it over your shoulders, "but between you and me," you spoke quietly, "I think it might actually be working, as much as I hate to admit it." Trelawny chuckled in response. It was true, he hadn't really been around enough to know you had an issue with Javier; but what he did know, from the way you two had been exchanging looks here and there, was that there was more going on underneath it all, whether either of you realized it or not. You just needed to be put in a situation without an audience; one that, for some reason, would spur on the jabs between the two of you.

"You know, Arthur, the government, or people whom the government like, seem to be very angry." Trelawny hopped onto his spotted mount. "Sure, well, we'll rescue Sean, and then we'll get ourselves lost, good and proper, it's a big country." You grabbed your horses reins, walking over to the boys and mounting up. Arthur took the lead, riding over to the edge of the cliff, overlooking the Upper Montana river. Trelawny and Javier took their places behind Arthur, and you took up the rear. "Down there, reckon those might be our boys." Arthur pointed at a boat below. "Keep your guns away until we know it's Sean, okay? I know what you two boys are like." Trelawny took the lead. "What about (y/n)?" Javier piped up. "What about her, dear boy?" Javier shrugged and repositioned himself. "This is her first mission. You should be warning her." You trotted your horse closer to him to hear his little attacks better. "And, well, she has a hard time keeping her head." You knew his comment was more playful now, instead of being said with the intention to hurt you. "Keep talking like I'm not here, Arthur will end up regretting rewarding me with a coffee for my good behavior towards you."

You clicked to your horse and overtook Javier, leaving him stuck at the rear. “You got coffee? I- Arthur!” Javier stuttered. "She told you," Arthur chuckled, "anyway, we should keep it down." You rode along the edge, watching as the boat pulled onto the shore, just below the valley. "Get your binoculars out, let's see what we're dealing with here." Trelawny brought his horse to a halt, the rest of you lining up beside him. "That looks like Sean to me," you commented as they pulled the bag off his head, the sun making his ginger hair all the more red. "Certainly kicking up enough of a fuss, definitely Sean." Arthur's tone was a little flat. "Oh, they're giving him a decent kicking." Javier chuckled. "Well, you can only imagine the shit he's been giving them." The four of you continued along the cliff, before turning down a small ravine and stopping at the river. "I'll go around and create a distraction, then you two sneak across and do the dirty on them. (y/n), follow along behind them. Keep yourselves hidden." Trelawny instructed. You nodded, watching as Javier and Arthur slowly made their way into the river. You stayed back, you weren't about to get yourself wet just yet.

Once Trelawny had the two headhunters distracted, Arthur and Javier crept up behind them, each grabbing their victim. Arthur dealt with his swiftly, but Javier took his time, performing a choreographed takedown that sent a little tingle down your spine. It wasn't a particularly good one; it made you think how that could've been you on the ride here, had you continued to be aggressive, and not had the heart to heart. "A pleasure as always, I think you have it from here." Trelawny hurried back to his horse, the last thing he wanted was to be caught in a shootout. This was it, you were in it now, no backing out. Your heart raced as you walked through the river, towards the valley, joining Javier and Arthur who'd taken cover behind a rock. "Come on, we got two halfway up the canyon to deal with." Javier hurried you. "We? I got this," you gave him a sarcastic smile for rushing you, repeater in hand. The fear had disappeared, now the rush had kicked in, and you wanted in on the action. "They're mine." You wrapped the leather strap around your wrist once and grabbed ahold of your weapon, the wrapped hand just past the frame, the other ready to pull the trigger.

You'd wrapped your wrist for as long as you could remember, at least, when you had time to think about where you were going to shoot. You told yourself it was to stabilize the weapon, and as true as that was, it also just looked cool, and you wanted it to be your thing. You aimed at the bounty hunter on the left, taking a shot right at his head, and another to his buddy as he turned around to see where the bullet had come from. "Nice shooting," Javier shouted over the eruption of gunfire, "come on, let's move!" He ran up the canyon and ducked behind a new rock, Arthur and yourself covering him the whole way. "Come on Arthur, let's push up," you signaled. You took care of the men on the cliff while the boys handled those on the ground. "There's Charles," Javier shouted as he kept running, "let's get up there." You looked up to find Charles in a machete fight with yet another bounty hunter. "I got him," you stopped running, taking aim on the enemy. You took the shot, hitting the man in the thigh and letting Charles take care of him from there, before running to catch up with the others.

The three of you made your way to the top of the canyon, joining Charles and crossing the road, towards the camp. "Let's take these hijos de putas!" Javier rushed in and started shooting, Arthur and Charles not far behind. You thought they'd have more of a plan than just running in guns blazing, but it was now too late to do anything but that. "Goddamn army of these bastards," Arthur yelled, "how much is Sean's bounty?" You laughed as you hid behind a stack of logs. "Maybe we should turn him in ourselves." You poked your head out when the coast was clear, your attention turning to Arthur as you heard him groan. "You okay?" You shouted over. "Ahhh just a graze," he kept shooting. You felt a bullet rush past your own body just as jumped back behind cover. "Too close," you spoke to yourself. "They're running away!" Javier laughed at Skelding's boys, pointing at the last few to disappear over the hill. You sighed out of relief, unwrapping your wrist as the shootout came to an end. "Good, let's get Sean down." You raised your repeater one last time, using your last loaded bullet to shoot the rope, letting Sean fall to the ground with a thud.

"You know, you're a lot less ugly from that other angle, Arthur," were the first words out of Sean's mouth. You'd missed him and his happy go lucky attitude. "Do I get a hug, Arthur? A warm embrace for a lost brother now found?" Arthur laughed as he walked closer to the Irishman, his hand patting his shoulder. "Nothing means more to me than this gang, the bond we share." He started to trail off. Javier moved over to a tree, leaning up against it. You felt his eyes on you, shadowed by the brim of his hat. He must've thought you were too distracted to notice him. "I would kill for it, I would happily die for it, but in spite of all that, I would've easily left you here to rot if Charles hadn't stopped me." Sean tripped over his own feet as Arthur pushed him away. "It's good to see you're still breathing, Sean." You smiled, removing your hat to fix your hair as he stumbled over to Javier. "The lovely (y/n), never thought I’d see a lady like yourself riding with the boys! Can I get a hug from you?" You smile turned to a smirk. "You're gonna need a bath before I allow you that close." You shooed him away with your hat before placing it back atop your head.

"Alright we should split up," Arthur stepped in with new orders to follow. "Javier will you escort mr Macguire back to camp, Charles best you ride separately." You watched Javier as he moved closer to Arthur. "What about you two?" He asked, his gaze flicking over to you for a quick second. "We're gonna see what's worth taking here, we'll separate and meet you back at camp as soon as we can." Javier nodded. "Alright. You did good today, (y/n)." He smiled gently at you, before walking Sean over to his horse and mounting up. Arthur placed a hand on your shoulder and walked you away from the loudmouth Irishman, who was already talking Javier's ear off. "So," he started, "was Dutch right?" You shrugged and leaned down to loot the nearest body. "To a degree, I suppose. We seem to have come to a sort of.. acquaintanceship." Arthur whistled for his horse, before looting another body. "Good. Well, the law will be on us soon, we'd best be on our ways. You head back this way," he pointed to the trail you'd rode down the day before, "I'll ride through Strawberry and see you back at camp." You nodded, "sounds good." Arthur mounted up and tipped his hat at you. "Nice working with you again, (y/n). I’ll make sure to mention to Dutch about you riding out with us more.”

With that, you watched him speed up the hill towards the muddy town of Strawberry, leaving you with a smile on your face as you thought about how your boring, ‘stay at camp’ life, was finally about to change.

Part 6

You felt something trickle down your back, a sigh escaping you as you realized it was blood. The girls had patched you up good, but maybe you needed stitches, as much as you hated the idea of them. "Hey.. Ms Grimshaw?" You muttered from your tent, hoping she'd hear you. She was up extra early this morning, covering your sewing shift before doing her own chores. "How are you holding up, dear?" She smiled slightly, pushing past the tent flaps and tying one of them back to let the warm morning sun in. You brought your hand from your lower back, blood staining your fingers. "Not so good," you winced. Grimshaw sighed, disappearing for a few minutes and returning with supplies to clean and patch you up again. "I can try bandages again, but if they don't work this time, we'll resort to stitches." Your hands turned clammy at the thought, but you nodded compliantly. Susan helped you up from your cot, lifting your now blood soaked shirt to reveal the damage. "Let's take this off," she stated, moving your hands above your head. You looked at her nervously. "I raised half these girls (y/n), it's nothing I haven't seen before," Grimshaw shook her head, chuckling quietly.

Living with 20+ people, privacy wasn’t a luxury you could afford. You’d seen a lot, heck, even Uncle and Reverend walking around late morning with their butts hanging out of their union suits, but you still felt uncomfortable with others seeing you. You didn’t really have a say when it came to Grimshaw, however. She had your shirt off and your wound out to the open air before you could retaliate further. She took a cold, damp cloth to your back, wiping away the blood and making you gasp. You listened as people walked past your tent, going about their chores, their footsteps coming and fading, until some walked past and began to fade, before coming back into earshot. You turned your head, wincing as Grimshaw continued to clean around your wound. “I should’ve guessed.” You scoffed, your eyes falling upon Javier’s. “Now you’re a peeping tom, too?” Javier furrowed his brows and shook his head, his hand gesturing to your back. “Mierda, I- I didn’t realize you got hurt so badly,” he stuttered, taking a step closer to your tent. “I could use some privacy right now.” You mumbled, brushing your hair forward to hide your bare chest a little better. Javier nodded, took a last look at your back, and headed wherever he was off to.

You glanced in pain at Grimshaw as she pressed the fresh bandage against your skin. "All clean, don't move around too much. A little r&r will have you healed in no time." Susan passed you a clean shirt and left your tent, taking the bloody one with her. You sat back down on your cot, and with a few groans managed to get your new shirt on. You tapped your fingers against the edge of the cot, looking around your tent for something to do, but alas, there was nothing. You decided a coffee and some company around the campfire was better than sitting alone in your tent, so that's just what you did. You got up slowly and headed to grab yourself a mug, though bending down to pour it was a lot harder than expected. You made your way over to the campfire, where you found the lovely Charles, tending to the burning logs, watching over Jack as he mimicked him with a smaller stick. "Morning, (y/n)," he smiled, his eyes meeting yours before quickly returning to Jack. "How's the back?" You shrugged gently, "about as good as you'd expect." Charles nodded, "I know of some good medicinal plants, I'll make you a tonic and leave it at your tent." You thanked him before he stood, and left you to watch over Jack.

You weren't the most fond of children, but little Jack was different. His life wasn't easy; growing up with the lot of you, having to move all the time for reasons he didn't understand, but you tried your best to protect his innocence. "What happened to you auntie (y/n)? Did you get into a fight too?" His question brought you back to the present moment. "Something like that, don't you worry." You smiled, placing your hand on your cheek to hide the bruise. You brought the coffee to your lips, the steam from it warming your cold nose. "How's the reading coming along?" You changed the subject, worried he'd pick up on the sorrow you were starting to feel. "It's going okay," he chirped, "uncle Hosea has teached me a lot!" You chuckled at his enthusiasm. "It's 'taught', but why don't you get me one of your books? I'd love if you read me a story." Jack dropped the stick and skipped off to find one of his adventure books. You took the few minutes to yourself to look around camp, searching for Arthur. You'd seen both Charles and Javier, and they were both doing better than you. As if on cue, he strolled into camp with some fresh game for Pearson, before grabbing a coffee and joining you, and Jack who'd now returned, too.

It was time for lunch when you and Arthur had helped Jack read most of "Otis Miller And The Black-Hearted Lady," one of your favorites. You'd always loved hearing tales of Black Belle, maybe someday you'd be like her: a badass, famous female gunslinger, always one step ahead of the law and never caught by the many bounty hunters who'd pursue you relentlessly. You grabbed a bowl of stew with the rest of the gang, everyone going to their usual spots at the tables or around the campfire, and Dutch, the big boss, out and back in his tent within minutes, too busy coming up with plans to mingle. You sat back around the campfire while Uncle spun a yarn. You didn't believe any of his stories, but they were fun to listen to. Once you finished your bowl, you headed back to your tent with a nap on your mind, you obviously hadn't slept too well, and truth be told you had nothing better to do. You pushed past the flap that had somehow untied itself, noticing the small bottle of tonic Charles had left for you. You were surprised by how fast he'd managed to put it together, though he could probably do it with his eyes closed by now. You didn't hesitate to open it, and though the smell wasn't too appealing, you took the whole thing in hopes it would bring you some relief soon, before lying down and getting some much needed shut eye.

The sun had already started to set as you finally came to, in a small pool of your own blood no less. Your back wound just wouldn't stop bleeding, so you knew what was coming next: stitches. You hated needles with a passion, and the idea of having to have your wound sewn shut without any form of painkiller, other than maybe another tonic, made your stomach turn. "Ms Grimshaw.." your voice shook, you were hoping she wouldn't hear you over the music from Dutch's gramophone, but soon enough she was at the entrance of your tent. "Oh.. I'll get everything ready." She tried a smile, but you knew she hated the idea of stitches just as much as you did. "Arthur, I need you and two others to help me with something." You heard Susan in the distance. Three men to hold you down seemed like a lot, but so was the pain you were about to go through. “Shirt off, lay stomach down on the bed,” she commanded as she marched back into your tent. “Ms Grimshaw, I really don’t think I can do this,” you replied through gritted teeth, your stew from lunch threatening to reappear. “You don’t have a choice, dear.” If John managed to handle the pain, you could too.. right?

You settled yourself on your cot, the usual cold evening Heartlands breeze causing your entire upper half to form goosebumps as your bare skin was exposed. You muttered a few curses under your breath, Javier’s name appearing in most of them. It was his fault you were about to go through this. Why did he have to put you up to the challenge in the first place? Whatever, you thought to yourself. Nothing you could do about it now. “Come on in, boys,” Grimshaw held the tent flap open, closing it swiftly behind them and washing her hands. “Arthur, Charles, take a leg each,” she started, “Javier, arms.” Your heart dropped as your heard his name. Could this possibly get any worse? The answer was yes, yes it could. “I’m going to sit on your back, not only can I be more precise with the suturing, but it’ll also keep you from moving.” Susan informed you as the others got into position. You watched Javier’s gold tips approaching your side and moving around to your head, trying your best to avoid any eye contact. Ms Grimshaw passed you a flask of whiskey, making sure you drank every last drop, before letting out a long, deep breath, and a “here we go.”

Susan threw a leg over your back and put all of her weight on you, needle in hand and ready to get to work. You folded your arms out in front of you and dug your face into them, preparing for the pain. Javier placed his rough hands on your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he did. "Don't touch me," you snarled, not lifting your head from your arms. Javier's hands flinched, but he didn't remove them. He could see how close Susan was to sticking you with the needle, and if he gave you an inch to squirm around you'd probably get stabbed somewhere you didn't need to be. "Easy," he sighed, frustration in his tone. "I don't need this right now." Grimshaw warned you she was about to make contact, and the needle pierced through your skin, awful sounds escaping you as it did. You laughed, the nerves and anger both fighting for the upper hand. "You don't need this right now, Javier? Because you're getting a needle to the back over and over again, right?" You scrunched your eyes shut as Susan went in for the second stitch. "Because I made you feel like you needed to prove yourself to me."

You could sense Javier was trying to hold back, he didn't want to escalate the situation, but he couldn't help but to defend himself. "No one made you come to Smithfields." He growled at you, his grip stronger than before. “Mierda, do you realize how crazy you sound? I never made you feel like you needed to prove yourself,” he kept adding between your cries. “Maybe you need to work on your self esteem, simple comments wouldn’t dictate your life so much.” You were almost out of breath from the pain. “I could say the same to you.. Javier." You managed to spit through gritted teeth, before letting out a squeal and burying your face into your arms, as Grimshaw went in for another stitch. "For God's sake, will you two stop it.” Susan was sounding stressed now. “And will someone please give her something to bite down on." Arthur left Charles in charge of your legs and rummaged through your tent, managing to find a spare leather bedroll strap which he threw to Javier, who, with a hand under your chin to raise your head, placed it between your teeth. He damn near lost a finger, you almost wished you'd bitten down faster.

Susan tied off the stitch she’d just completed a few times, "only about.. 3 more to go." She grimaced, but got to work on the next one. Your arms moved out to the side of the cot and then up to where Javier stood, your hands uncomfortably close to his groin, grabbing onto the wooden frame, your nails digging into it. You could hear Arthur and Charles share a few words now and again, and a few reassuring words directed towards you, though you didn't even catch what they were. The leather strap muffled your cries, but only slightly. You were thankful for the music Dutch was playing, at least the other's wouldn't be able to hear you so clearly. You heard Javier shift his feet back, but his grip on you never loosened. Grimshaw was on the 5th or 6th stitch now, you'd lost count, and you started to feel like you were going to lose consciousness, too. You lifted your head, Javier noticing your tear stained cheeks in the dim yellow light of the oil lantern. "Ms Grimshaw, I'm not- I can't see straight," you mumbled, your arms coming back down to your sides, and one slowly slipping off the side of the cot, limp. "(y/n)," you heard your name being called, only, it grew more and more faint each time. "(y/n), miss (l/n)?"

You woke up later that evening. Most had gone to bed, but Ms Grimshaw was sat in your tent, watching over you with a book in hand. “Back in the land of the living, I see.” She showed you a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?” You were still lying on your stomach, a blanket up over your shoulders. “Shit.” You groaned, trying to move. “How long was I out?” You let your arm fall off the cot, your fingers brushing against the wooden pallet below. Susan looked at her pocket watch, “around an hour.” She clicked it shut, standing from the chair and turning to head out. “Ms Grimshaw,” you hesitated, not sure whether you should be asking, but you couldn’t let it eat away at you. “Did Javier say anything when I was out?” You shifted under the covers awkwardly. “I mean.. Did he have the last word?” Grimshaw shook her head. “No, you did.” You hummed in response, watching as she left, closing your tent behind her. You wanted to get up, you’d spent so much time in bed today and you needed a change of scene. You pushed yourself up, your skin tight and sore.

You found and threw on the closest shirt, standing slowly and grabbing a shawl Molly had given to you. “It’ll look better on you than it ever has on me,” she’d said. You didn’t know if she was being genuine, or if she had an ulterior motive. She’d never done any chores around camp, she came from a wealthier family than all of you combined. You and the other ladies found her hard to get along with. You stretched gently and left your tent, heading towards Pearson’s chuck wagon to grab a bottle of whiskey. Javier was still up, strumming his guitar quietly at the main campfire. You exchanged a look, his expression changing from sleepy to surprised when he realized you were up and about. Dutch was also still awake, you saw through the tent flaps he was bent over a map, pen in hand, figuring out where you could move next. You saw a couple silhouettes in the distance, standing near the edge of the cliff, though you couldn’t figure out who they were. You reached into the crate, taking a bottle and popping the cap off.

You turned to face the main campfire, leaning against the wagon, cursing loudly at your own stupidity as you leaned right on your wound. Typical how you always hurt yourself more when you were trying to avoid it. You took a long swig, watching the shadows flit about inside Dutch’s tent, before the man himself pushed past the flaps, lighting up his pipe. You watched him for a short while, before turning your face to the stars and bright moon above. “Miss (l/n).” You turned your attention back to your boss, who was now walking over to join you by the chuck wagon. “Evening, Sir.” You smiled, not looking at him for too long. He was intimidating at the best of times, so him coming over now for a one on one made you rather anxious. Over the months you’d been part of his gang, you’d barely spoken at all. “While I appreciate the formality, (y/n), it isn’t necessary. You’ve been with us long enough now.” He took a few puffs from his pipe. “How’s your back?” He sounded genuinely concerned. You shrugged in response, taking another swig. Dutch chuckled deeply, “I hear you.”

"Trelawny's sure he saw Sean in Blackwater," he started quietly, not wanting to wake the others. "Do you have a rescue plan?" Your eyes were focused on the main campfire still. "You aren't going yourself, are you? You know they want you, Dutch." Dutch nodded, pipe to his lips once more. "That's why I'm sending you." You choked on the swig you'd just taken, earning Javier's attention too. You quite liked the idea of him seeing the boss, who he followed with such loyalty, speaking to you. "Me?" You gestured to yourself with the bottle, to which he returned a hum. "I don't think that's something I can handle right now, wound and all, Dutch. I- I don't know if I can even ride." Dutch shrugged and started to head towards his tent. "You used to talk so much about how you wanted to do more. How you could do more. What happened to that (y/n)?" You placed your bottle down, a little frustrated, but also proud that Dutch thought enough of you to bestow upon you such a tough mission. "Still me, I just didn't have a massive gash in my back a month ago." You raised your voice as he got further away, also allowing Javier to hear you, as petty as it was. 

"Am I going alone?" You asked a little nervously. Dutch span around, walking backwards now. He shook his head, pointing with his thumb to the main campfire, right at Javier.

Part 4