The camp was lit with voices and laughing around you whilst you sat unbothered on a log overlooking the lake you had so admired when you had first laid your eyes upon it.

The day had been one of your nicest yet. The Arthur had not been buzzing around for you only to have to swat away. No, rather it was peaceful.

You weren't being unattentive but the sound of soft footsteps still made you snap your head around to look at the person approaching.

The finest lady in camp. Dutch's favorite girl. The one you had no opinion on yet as most of the time neither of you looked each other's way. The way she appeared made it seem like she strayed away too far from her well to do family, but you couldn't tell if that was true or just what it looked to be.

Her skirt dressed the worn wood kindly as she sat with distance from you. Quite frankly you had not a clue on whether you should say something or leave her to her own but she decided for you.

"You're that other O'Driscoll, aren't you?" She questioned, her green eyes giving you only a second of grace before scanning the horizon of the lake.

It took you a moment, unsure of where she was going with this and distracted by the sudden sight of Arthur, who was making his way toward an idling Dutch on the shore of the lake, not too far from you. "Unfortunately."

Molly's eyes scan you up and down, a familiar look of disparage glinted in her gaze. "You seem close with Arthur." She stated outright rather bluntly.

Shaking off the stare she had given you and comprehending her bold words you replied in short, "I suppose it could look that way."

"I feel like you're trying something." Her irish accent shone through with her clearly disdained words.

It was an accusation not unaccustomed by yourself, and you weren't in the mood for more of it. "I have no power to propagandize that man. He's as stubborn as an ass."

It seemed if it wasn't Arthur, it was someone else. Would the O'Driscoll talk ever end? You felt as though you had proved yourself more than needed.

"Why haven't you and your sly little buddy left yet then?" Her interrogation had you slipping on your hat in preparation of departure.

"We're just looking out for our lives, miss. If it's not the law, then it's our former members." You made sure to emphasize the past tense. O'Driscoll's gang was certainly in the past for you, whether you wanted it or not.

With that, you got up and started walking away. Perhaps you'd take a trip to town, get away from camp for a while.

"I didn't say you could go?" She scolded with a bark of her voice.

Saying more could be bad, saying nothing could also be bad. So you chose silence, you didn't want trouble with Dutch's girl.

As you walked through camp with a stretch of your back, a hand stabbed at your ribs, a sensitive part that reminded you unfortunately, you were ticklish.

You hunched over with a gasp, your arms throwing themselves to your sides to defend from further attack. It was already evident who it was.

Dutch and Arthur strolled by you, Arthur with a slight smirk watching you. Dutch caught on and studied you for a second.

"Why don't you come along to fish, Mrs. O'driscoll? Arthur told me of your struggle last time." He chuckled after Arthur gave him a slight shake of his head, a warning to redact his offer.

Mrs. O'driscoll was a new one for sure. The nicknames seemed to come from a never ending stream of creativity you despised.

Was there any way that you could say no to Dutch? No was never to be said to Colm, and learning from that, you agreed. "Alright, as long as it delights Arthur."

"It does not particularly-" Arthur rumbles before he gets guided forward by an interrupting Dutch.

"Oh, he might jump out of his boots with excitement." He laughs with a pat to Arthur's back. Like father and son. It was cute, admittedly, to see notorious outlaws have such a bond.

Hosea was waiting for the pair, and now for you as he questioned your proximity to them. "She taggin' along as well?"

"She needs to see your flare with fishing, Hosea." Dutch proclaims with a grunt as he pulls himself up in his saddle.

"Alright, let me show you how its done then." With an aloof attitude and a nod, he leads the group out of camp.

The ride you had with the three of the men wasn't heavy with feelings of stress or worry on your part. Dutch spoke of the activities he wanted done down in this town, of the money the gang needed. It felt as though you were finally one of them.

Dutch was sure to tell you all that he wanted everyone to be on the down low. Just to snoop around for now. That was easy enough for you.

It wasn't long after you got close to the tracks that the quiet atmosphere of hooves and voices was filled with the thundering of a train.

"Looks like law up ahead." Dutch chimes, his words directing your eyes to the stopped caged carriage up ahead. "Play it cool."

You and Arthur exchange glances before he made his way from your left to your right. A barrier between you and the law for whatever reason.

"Hello gentlemen." Came a mellifluous voice from the metal bars, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Well!" Came a surprised chortle from Dutch. "Look what the cat drug in."

"Ive seemed to have gotten myself in a spot of bother." You hadn't caught it before but now the smooth accent of a brit plastered his words.

You had not a clue who this man was or how he knew the gang. It was only so long that you would find out however.

"Quiet back there." Grumbled the lawman from upfront, his fist hammering down on the metal to rattle the cage.

Dutch examined this for a moment, "lets see if we cant sort this out."

The small talk that commenced turned into the talk similar of a lawyer. Defending the "silly fancy fop." Clearly, he was important if this was worth the trouble.

The other imprisoned men in the back took Dutch's distraction and started picking at the lock, providing entertainment for you and Arthur who sat there watching.

Dutch didn't get finished before the man had the lock off and the creaky doors opening, the other three men following with no hesitation.

"Shit!" Exclaims the sheriff, his and his partners eyes wide as their captives latched onto the train now departing. "The Anderson boys! I cant have more scandal!"

"Allow us to help, my friend." Dutch offers, his gaze not waiting a moment longer to send you and Arthur off. "Arthur... y/n."

Arthur sighed, "chase wanted men?" He confirms, ushering you on with a glance.

"And-" he points to the lawman's partner, "take Archibald with ya."

You followed, your horse already springing into action, your adrenaline not short after that.

"Just what I signed up for..." Arthur clearly discontent with what he got to be volunteered for. "Come on, big guy."

He helped Archibald up on his horse and took off beside you and after the train. The sight of the men on the back of the train and your chasing brought you back to the very day that was the reason you were here now.

Archibald hollered from the back, encouraging you forward with jarring words. "Keep your guns holstered, we need them Anderson boys alive."

You clicked your tongue, pushing your mare forward, surprised at the speed in which the train was already traveling.

Archibald nagged again. "Come on hurry!"

His words were met with swift retort of displeasure from Arthur. "All right."

"Come on, we're losing them!"

"Will you relax? We're not losing 'em!"

"Faster, come on! What's your name, sir?" Archibald seemed to have a speed in mind that a horse would have trouble reaching with two riders on its back. "And how about you, lady?"

"Arthur. Arthur Callahan." Replied a grumpy Arthur. Although you didn't have much sympathy for him, it made you smile in the face of this situation.

"Y/n Callahan." Without a fake last name in mind, you copied Arthurs.

"Faster, Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, please. My neck is on the line here!"

"I get it. We're doing our best." Arthur grunts. His eyes were trained on you, curious that you copied him.

The last of the four was dangling off the back of the train, struggling to pull himself up. His buddy fortunately came back for him.

"You sure I can't just shoot him?" Arthur asks, disregarding what he had been told moments earlier.

"No. Did I not say that?" Archibald scolds, watching the men escape further up the train.

"You've said plenty." Arthur was on his last straw and you appreciated the help from Archibald.

"So long deputies!" Came a man monkeying around on the roof of the final cart, teasing and whooping.

The water tower in the back posed a quickly approaching threat to the completely oblivious man who was but too quick to celebrate his victory.

You cringed back as the harsh smack of the back of his head met with funnel to the water tower. Your horse barely missing his body now knocked clean out on the tracks.

"Idiot. Now get after the others, come on!" He shouted at you and Arthur, keeping your minds trained on the ones who were conscious.

The train started slowing as it passed the big red building that was the station, which Archibald pointed out.

Your horses now were more of a match for the speed and you both came up alongside the train.

"You think you both can jump on there?"

"She can." Arthur outs you with non-existent hesitation. "But why me?"

"Because you ride like my grandmother!" Insisted Archibald, which would have you chuckling right in Arthur's face had you not been distracted.

One of the men started throwing bottles, one would've hit you if the man wasn't so bad at judging distance, the glass shattering in the distance that you covered quickly.

"Now he's throwing bottles. The lowdown bastard!" Archibald squealed, dodging one heading right for him.

You took the liberty of joining the Anderson boys on the train first as you were ahead of Arthur and Archibald. Arthur not mere moments fore he was behind you.

You caught your breath for a second, catching another bottle hurled at you while Arthur faced him head on.

The man atop the cargo on the train managed a good kick on Arthur who fell to the side. His neck quickly subject to the squeezing of the Anderson boy's hand.

"You bastard!" Screamed the man as he held onto Arthur with vigor.

You felt a strange sense of anger wash over you as you made for Arthurs aid, grabbing a good fistful of cloth and heaving the man off with Arthurs help.

"Thats it!" Came Archibalds encouragement from the side lines. In his hands were your horses reins. Kind of him, you thought, to bring your horse.

You helped Arthur up and both of you started for the rest of them, although admittedly, without a gun, you'd have to let Arthur do most of the strong arming.

"Come on, both of you! I'm relying on you guys!" Archibald was certainly one for constant reminding.

The sprinting on the train felt counter productive, it was certainly more work than just regular running.

Arthur made sure to be in front of you, he was like a big shield and ran surprisingly fast for how large he is.

"You hold it right there!" Arthur shouts at the other two men who were barely in sight ahead of you.

You had to jump atop the roof and Arthur, the gentleman that he is, helped none.

This normally would not have been a problem, but with your weak arm, it left you struggling.

Arthur had pushed through it despite his shoulder and was ready to go off and leave you but he didn't. He stood above you and held out his hand.

"Let's go, Mrs. Callahan." His face gave away the fact that he enjoyed this activity with you. Also by the fact he was picking on you again.

"I'm coming, grandmother." You were sure to tease back. His hand gripped yours and with the strength of not a grandmother, pulled you up with ease. He gave you a scoff before continuing on after the Andersons with you.

"Come on, shitbags!" Mocked one of the men from ahead. Jumping from cart to cart and down again to keep ahead of you both.

The second time you both needed to climb Arthur just grabbed you and heaved you up, his shoulder clearly bothered him as a pained grunt was heard from behind you.

Atop this car one of the men was right there, but your mind was on helping Arthur instead. As you gripped under his arms and pulled, footsteps pounded behind you.

The guy came right back around and started coming for you, which was not good. To say the least.

"You're the law?" He scoffs, your not so threatening appearance seemed to spur him on more. "We're runnin from you?" He hadn't seemed to notice that Arthur was also hot on his tail.

He was large and he was not letting up. His heavy footsteps thundering toward you shook the metal roof under you.

Your hand instinctively brushed the gun at your hip but Archibalds multiple requests lingered in your mind.

He was quick to be on you, throwing out your arms to brace yourself and push him away from you as his hands met your shoulders, trying to wrestle you off the train car entirely.

His strength was clear as you both struggled, your body wobbling closer and closer to the edge.

"Not so scary now, huh?" This man derides before his eyes widen at the friend you had in tow.

Arthur pulls him off and throws him to the ground, his back meeting the hard metal with a thud.

You take the chance to continue after the other, perhaps just threatening the man with your gun would do. You felt like you weren't being of much help, which hit you right in the gut.

"Damn bastard!" Hollers the man now at Arthurs mercy from behind you. "Get away from me!"

That was his final spew of nonsense before his consciousness loses itself to Arthur's fist.

Ahead was the final member of this gang that was in need of a catching. You had to jump down and get inside of the car he had slipped into.

The running came to a halt, the final cart being cold and the smell of fresh meat filled your nose. A particular pleasure that wasn't all that pleasurable.

"Quit runnin'. You ain't got much of a chance anyway, Anderson."

"Yeah? And what are you gonna do little lady?" He jeers from his cornered position at the front of the train cart.

"Don't worry your head about me. It's him." You point back to the man behind you. It wouldn't be like that had you been able to use your gun. It certainly felt strange being so powerless but not unfamiliar. Arthur always reminded you.

"Do we need to bother?" Arthur groans, rolling his shoulder with a wince.

"Let me go!" The man demands, his aggressive stomps closing the distance between him and Arthur.

"I can't do that." Arthur replies, holding up his fists. The man had a knife, which worried you slightly as you watched this fight ensue.

The sudden halting of the train threw all three of you forward suddenly, the man caught off guard, was doubly caught off guard by Arthur taking his chance to take him on.

They wrestled around, the sounds of fists hitting bodies were apparent. Despite Arthurs effort, the man kept getting closer to where you stood, which then had you counting your options on what to do if he changes his target.

His knife went clean through Arthurs forearm, who in turn gasped in pain. You wanted to do something, but getting in Arthurs way would do more harm than good.

He stumbled back from Arthur, his proximity to you no less than an arm length, it presented an opportunity. With your good arm and the back of your gun, you brought it down hard on the back of the man's head. Not enough to knock him out but enough for Arthur to.

You and Arthur stared at each other for a moment before hunching over to catch your breath. The spontaneity of this situation finally hit you and the realization made you laugh breathily. Arthur gave you a look before he couldn't help but give a small chuckle as well.

Motioning for his bleeding arm, you tear off the remaining cloth from his shirt and shape it into a decent enough improvised gauze.

"Can't fix my shirt now, I guess." Arthur observes the obvious but he didn't seem to be genuinely mad by the prospect of it.

"All this blood of yours ruined it already." You shake your head, tying the torn cloth gently around his arm gently.

"Suppose you're right." He admits, a conceded smile drawn on his face.

"That's how it always is." You tease, not being sure what to do with your hands now that they have blood on them. "At Least you got him."

"That's also how it always is." He repeats in a voice that sounded like it was suppose to be a mockery of yours.

"I expect no less from you, grandma dearest." You praise, even if it wasn't exactly that.

"Leave out grandma, please." He shakes his head, his laugh turning into a tired smile.

"Just dearest?" Your eyebrow raises with a teasing smirk.

"Just dearest." He confirms, meeting your eyes with an equal look on his face.

Despite him saying things like this before, you haven't found yourself any more prepared for it than the time previous. "If you're going to flirt, at least try."

"Okay then." He stands upright and as he gears himself up for the "flirting" a loud, galling voice comes from the outside of the cart.

"Hello? Is everything alright in there?" For the past minute, Archibald had vanished from your mind, only to return at an unsatisfactory time.

Arthur was audibly and visibly displeased as he reported back to the lawman, "well... I don't think he's dead... but I think we won the fight."

Arthur picked up the downed man, and Archibald pulled the door open to finally see what happened. "Bring him out here."

"Deputy." Arthur nods with a greet as you follow out behind him.

"Sounded like quite a commotion. Is that him?" The lawman examines the blonde Anderson to check.

"I sincerely hope so." Grumps Arthur. His temporary humor gone from just moments ago.

"Old Anders Anderson." Scoffs Archibald with a look of scorn.

That there was the head man, a surprise that he didn't have more in him. Though in all fairness, he got ganged up when you joined Arthur for a second.

You all mounted, following Archibald to where you needed to go take this man not unlike you and Arthur, to the can.

The ride basically amounted to nothing more than a tour from Archibald. He spoke of the Gray's and the Braithwaite's. One, a respectable family. The other, not so much.

Arthur kept glancing at you while you both listened to him talk about these families, their fortune and their feud. You both knew it sounded like something Dutch and Hosea would love to hear about.

The road brought you lot into town quickly, greeted by a fairly large saloon, sure to be mentioned was that it was owned by the Gray's. As most things were said to be in this town. Rhodes, so it was.

Hosea sat outside of the sheriff's office, greeting you all as you rode up and it wasn't long till Dutch barged out of the door behind Sheriff Gray.

"I told you Arthur would deliver, man has a passion for justice." Dutch exclaims behind the sheriff as he meets the rest of everyone back outside.

Sheriff Gray thanked you and Arthur for the help, setting Trelawny free from his imprisonment in return for the task you had completed.

All of this for a man you'd never met. Though as much as you thought about it, there was no regret. Running alongside Arthur and the two of you on that train together had been a surprising amount of fun.

Dutch and the Sheriff exchanged conversation for a short while before warning Dutch to keep Trelawny out of trouble.

Now quickly did you find that Trelawny was quite the talker.

"And you are?" He coo's with a slight bow and a hand shake.

"Y/n l/n." You nod, returning his hand shake.

"How lovely to meet you, Miss l/n." He kindly nods before spinning back around to lead the group of you.

Trelawny reiterated the story of the Gray's and Braithwaite's. Long standing feud, gold that was fought over, cousins marrying cousins or not marrying cousins. It was strangely interesting.

"I want you guys to check that out later." Dutch was sure to mention, directing it towards you, Hosea and Arthur.

Trelawny warned of all the talk, 500 miles around, north and south, "super agents" or sorts of that matter.

Dutch laughed with disbelief. "Super agents? All talk."

"Oh, no doubt." Trelawny agreed before turning back around to face all of you. His words were that of departure, which surprised you, having just met this man no less than five minutes ago.

Dutch shrugged when Hosea looked at him, even surprised, nodding a goodbye to Trelawny.

As your group of four made way back to your horses, Dutch brought up the rich families.

"Hosea, I want you to check out the Braithwaite's. Arthur, you and y/n sniff around the Gray's place."

You nodded your agreement and Arthur his. "Our friend Archibald showed us the Gray's place earlier." Told Arthur, recounting your recent ride.

Dutch and Hosea now chattered together up ahead, leaving you and Arthur to walk together behind them.

The two of you were so close together your shoulders brushed but neither of you seemed to care enough to make any distance.

"So who was that?" You ask Arthur curiously.

"Oh, Trelawny? A slippery con man of sorts. We've known him for a good while."

You hum your acknowledgement, "he's not a part of the gang?"

"He is. Just, that's why he's slippery. Doesnt stay nowhere too long."

You give it some thought. The man looked like a high fligher and in towns like this, spelled trouble. You had found that out before you had become particularly opinionated against the law.

You rubbed your sore arm, the scab formed around the wound was sure to leave a scar. It hurt everytime you prodded at it too much but admittedly it became a bad habit.

"How's your arm after that?" You guessed he was referring to the man you had scuffled with no less than an hour ago.

"It's not bad." You dismiss with a wave of your hand. "Your shoulder is more worrisome, that cut too. Think you should rest it for a while."

Arthur looked over at you with a subtle look of sarcastic shock. "Worried for me now, are ya?"

You bumped into him with your shoulder, your discontent frown unable to stay for long as a smile crept up on you.

As close as that man could get to giggling was what he was doing.

"Quite the fishin’ trip, huh?" Arthur proclaims ahead to Hosea and Dutch.

"The fish weren't so easy to catch neither." You sigh, tired from all that runnin you had to do.

"No, that they weren't." Dutch laughs in agreement, talking like the one who gladly had to do none of the fishing. "There's still time. I'm up for it."

"How about you two?" Hosea questions, looking you and Arthur up and down. "Or have you had enough of the chase for one day?"

Arthur meets your eye, seemingly checking if you'd want anything to do with it first.

"Pearson will need something for the soup." You agreed, pushing down the unsavory idea of handing over your catch for the stew Pearson would cook up.

"Yeah alright then." Arthur adds, agreeing with the rest. Hosea, happy with this, mounted his horse behind Dutch and Arthur.

Amongst the riding, Hosea and Dutch told stories of the past, ones involving Trelawny. Everyone in the group had a good laugh at these stories, and for this moment, you had not a care in the world. Not even the feeling of being an outcast haunted you as you and your fateful friends - perhaps, if you could call them that, made your way to your planned fishing trip.

----

The further you got, once again, the colder it was, both you and your horse now having slowed to a nervous walk. Far from anything that could resemble a road or life beyond yourself and your mount.

You were lost. If that were any descriptor. Lost, cold, and tired. You could only hope Van Der Lindes gang was just as lost as you too, but much further, desirably completely headed in a different direction.

Thankfully, the rabbit you saved from earlier kept you from needing to hunt again. Hunting now would certainly only draw attention where attention was not needed, a fire too. Options were limited, to say the least.

The sky above was as dark as could be, yet sparkled with so many lights. The contrast calmed you amidst the just now subsiding adrenaline.

You blew your condensated breath into the air, watching it fade away with the seconds that passed. Bringing yourself to think on how you'd find your way back seemed impossible. The thought of laying your head into a motel bed completely dominated your mind.

You'd have to try to stop somewhere, soon at least, to rest your horse if you didn't want to run the risk of the both of you collapsing. It'd been hours since you got away with a bit of cash and some measly train bonds.

All of it didn't seem so worth it now for a few stacks of paper. But, at least it'd calm Colm some knowing that the score he'd set up wasn't for naught.

A loud crack rang out.

Your mare jumps beneath you, spooking into a quick canter.

Your whole body seized up as you clutched your saddles horn, only a second did it take for you to glance down to where you felt an impact.

A sudden, deep, burning heat spread through your left arm like the blood that seeped from the open wound.

When you finally realized what had just happened, you whipped your head around, and there he was.

That man in the navy union coat. The barrel of his pistol staring you down as he did.

Adrenaline and shock pushed you into action as you unholstered your revolver, aiming it the best you could at him through the darkness.

Each time you barely clipped him, the bullets ricocheting off the nearby pines as he crouched down at your fire, trying to avoid looking like the trees.

You couldn't meet his eye. His hat nearly covered the whole of his face as he spurred his paint after yours.

He shot again, narrowly missing you, to your relief. Your gun clicked empty, quickly realizing you had already used your whole round.

You clutched your arm to your side, beginning to get weary as you rode. The blood from your arm didn't let up.

You grabbed for your second revolver, knowing you'd most likely have another bullet find you if you reloaded now.

You'd been in situations like these before, though only once did you actually get shot, once that didn't disable you as badly as this.

The terrible aching started to really bother you now, but you couldn't focus on your arm, riding and shooting all at once.

Pivoting in your saddle the best you could, you pointed and shot again, but now he was further. Taken a path left that granted him more cover by the evergreens thick trinks.

There was no use wasting your bullets now while he stalked you like prey, waiting for you to drop. The frustration and fear with this man kept you out of the daze you felt approaching.

You made quick glances around, making sure there were no more of his members also out here for your head as well.

He would be the only manageable option.

Every time you turned and aimed, it proved more and more difficult to aim. Like he kept getting further out. The pain in your arm started worsening, making you clutch it closer to your chest with a wince. - Your mind came back to you once you hit the ground. You had fallen off and into the snow, which had at least padded your fall, but nonetheless still knocked the air out of you.

Everything around you started becoming more fuzzy, the details in the land blurry. You had to do something about your arm and the man, but probably the man first.

You stared back up through the trees, squinting and trying to focus in the darkness that shrouded your surroundings. Wherever he was, he wasn't close enough for you to see.

Heaving in breath after breath, you propped yourself up against a nearby tree, weakly pointing your shaky gun as you waited for the blue blob to get closer.

When you figured he was close enough - too close - you hit the trigger.

There was nothing after that but ringing. It looked like you hit him, you thought so. So you dragged your knife out, cutting your shirt to wrap your arm and put much needed pressure on it.

You winced with every poke and prod, and with your torn shirt quickly soaking up the blood, it gave you barely enough time to turn for your chap, slicing a piece long enough to tie around your bicep.

You dropped your knife as soon as you finished and lifted your arm as best you could to apply your make-shift tourniquet above the bullet wound.

All you could do now was hope the bleeding would stop long enough to get your bearings and get out of here.

---

Your head bobbed up and down on hardwood, enough to wake you with a deep groan. Your whole body ached like mad once you slowly regained consciousness.

"She's awake." Stated a deep silvery voice, which made you shoot your eyes open.

"Really?" Replied a man farther away.

"Pretty sure."

Everything that was happening just now started to overwhelm you in your state of being barely cognizant. You stayed silent trying to recall just last night.

From what you could muster, it seemed like death had caught up to you after all, yet you were here.

You'd been shot. That much you could feel. Your bicep burned and tingled with the puncture wounds that had penetrated each side.

When you cocked your head up enough to look at your- where was your jacket? The expected sight replaced with a dusty brown colored coat. 

You remembered falling off your horse, but much beyond that was still hard to recall.

Trying to sit upright, you found yourself tugging at binds, which set off a swift onset of panic as you started to jerk at them, your arm screaming at you to stop with every yank.

"Easy." The first man mumbled. He moved closer for you, grasping for your shoulder that didn't have a terrible stabbing pain in it. You met his eye as he pulled you up with ease to a sit.

He stayed crouched in front of you for a moment, assessing you. A soft and hardly discernible look of concern across his face. Tough but gentle, and he didn't seem to mean you much harm despite the situation you found yourself in.

Upon your upright position, you found your ammo and gun belts had vanished, and the only semblance of your items, your hat, crumpled on the floor next to you.

You took a better look around when something - someone - caught your eye, nonetheless like a moth to a flame.

That man. His union coat still hugged him, his black hat sitting on top of his head. You could never forget that attire. The clothes he wore while he gunned you down in the forest.

You knew exactly what you did to the last man who got a lucky shot in on you, only this time you had to find a way around your limbs being bound together.

You stared daggers at him from behind, desperately wishing he'd at least glance back so you could finally see his face. The face of the first man who had gotten an upper hand on you, the thought filling you with contempt.

You cleared your throat before you spoke, a rough and scratchy feel after how you'd woken. "Look at me, you bastard." Your voice still sounded hoarse over the anger that lined your words, the lack of water you'd been subjected to made its mark.

Even though you didn't call him by name or any of his noticeable features, he seemed to know exactly who you were addressing.

He gave the driving reins to the older man that sat next to him, who had his head turned to inspect you momentarily. 

"I'm lookin'." He announced, smug as could be.

He was intimidating, more so than what you initially expected. That wasn't enough to wane your aggravated attitude though, what else would he do to you know? You knew what he wanted and he wasn't gonna do much after all this.

He stood slightly bent over to hold his balance before jumping into the back where the other man sat with you.

You eyed him with such malice, yet the expression on his face only twisted into a small smirk.

"You gonna untie me or what?" It was worth the ask, unlikely he'd relent anyway.

"You gonna behave?"

"Sure, if you give me back all my shit. My horse as well, preferably, or one of yours."

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest at your ridiculous request. "I might've considered it had you left it at 'sure'." He drew out a cigarette and lit it just to puff the smoke at you.

Your eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. "Ask me again then."

He snickers at your second most ridiculous request, playing into it. "You gonna behave, girl?"

"Wouldn't dream of misbehaving." You granted, it didn't reach him, though. His expression of pure amusement gave it away.

"Never been much of a genie, so I can't grant any your wishes." He sat relaxed and aloof next to the first man you weren't sure of yet.

"You already shot me. Untying me is the least you could do. I reckon you could just poke my arm if I start actin' unruly." Reasoning with him was difficult, though you were confident you wouldn't try to fight off three full grown men. He wasn't.

"I'll think about it. If you talk nice."

"I talk nice when I'm not tied up."

"And I untie people who talk nice beforehand." He retorts, infuriating you further. "What's a girl like you doing Colm's dirty work anyway?"

"It's none the different than what you'd do for your boss."

"A train robbery alone? I think that's funny."

"Would it have been if ya' hadn't caught me last night?" The edges of your mouth curl up in a smirk at the thought of being so close to remaining victorious.

"What's even in it for you? Ya' Colm's special girl or somethin'?" His accusation made the small smile that lined your lips vanish in place of shock.

He scanned you all the while, his eyes lighting up when his insult hit where he intended.

You knew why he'd say something so ludicrous, no doubt. Not many of the yellow bellied half-wits in this gang would attempt something like this, for good reason too. Colm didn't give a rats ass for his men, yet you liked to think you brought more value to him.

"No." You replied, scorned.

"Really?" He emphasized, hammering down on the nerve he already hit. "Seems more from your end than his."

You wanted to defend yourself, but you were limited in knowing what he'd take your word for. Clearly.

"Doubt he'll even come lookin' for you. Nor your buddy I caught a few days ago."

"We'll see." Your patience - what little you even had of it, kept you at bay, still clinging on to the prayer that he'd undo your ropes.

"Tell you what? You tell us where he's at and we'll go lookin' for him instead."

"I know exactly the same amount as you." That much was true. You hadn't seen him since he made his way up to Colter. As far as you saw, he wasn't amongst the fallen. But whether they saw it as the truth was beyond you.

He turned his head to the man whose company you preferred. "What do you think' Charles? She bullshitting us?"

"Couldn't tell you," He took a moment to think you over. "Haven't had enough time to tell."

Charles. You had the name of one of the three men that rode on this carriage with you.

"I ain't lyin', you'd have to bury yourself into the man's skin to always know his whereabouts."

"Yeah?" I'm sure there's more you can tell us than that." He stops, staring straight into you. "What's your name, anyways?"

"I can tell you about my ma and pop, but anything else?" A small laugh escapes your lips at your own joke, at the absurdity of this all. "You'll have to untie me."

He mumbled something under his breath, a stormy gaze as he eyed you darkly. He makes his way closer to you and to your horror, reached out for your left shoulder.

You winced at the pain he caused when he clutched you, moving you so your back faced him enough to reach your binds.

He cut through the strings he tied you with, involuntarily getting jittery each time you felt his blade touch your wrists or palms.

Finally, the ropes that clasped you had released their tension, letting out your relief with a sigh.

"That ain't gonna last for long, so enjoy it."

You blew him off, rolling your right shoulder that you had been passed out on as you rubbed your sore wrists. "You gonna do my legs too? Or are you gonna make the poor little lady do it herself?"

"Gonna make the 'poor little lady' do it herself." He agreed, with a shake of his head as he rumbled out a chuckle.

You grunted with each movement too harsh you made with your arm while you slowly undid the ropes, bitter at this man and his yapping. Glancing up every so often, you met his eye each time. His never left you as you sat there.

He flicked his cigarette off the carriage, projecting his full attention onto you. "Alright," He chimes, leaning in. "Where's he at?" Some of his initial aloofness replaced with a more serious tone.

"Have you considered asking my associate?" You reply, taking off whoever's coat this happened to be, examining your wound closer. With every poke and prod, you winced out a hiss. The bloodied bandages an unfavorable sight to see.

"No. We invited him in by the fire to eat with us." He mocked with each word that left his mouth. He was starting to lose his patience - to your delight.

"I would've told you all about Colm if you had done that instead of shooting me." You quickly filled with regret at your snide. Your sentence sounding more like an admission rather than a jab at him.

He raised his brows, contemplating for a moment. He took it as an admission as you feared, scolding yourself for it.

"It's not going to get easier for you. Just tell us where he's at, and we'll let you go. Maybe."

"And what if I don't know where he's at? You gonna maybe let me go, or shoot me again?"

He lets out a heavy sigh, realizing he's not getting anywhere with you. By the looks of it, he hadn't slept much - served him right for hunting you down in the forest.

-Arthur's pov-

Upon his initial meeting of you in the forest, he felt slick that he tracked you down through the snow and got a shot in. Yet, after missing, he felt a sudden confliction on whether or not he should kill you.

Bill, Javier, Dutch - they all left him to deal with you, as they all knew he had a track record of collecting O'Driscoll's just fine. The group just didn't want to be out here so late. 

Sneaking around like you did and just about getting away with robbing them blind entirely alone, he had to admit, was impressive, albeit cretinous.

It led him to have some level of respect for you despite being an O'Driscoll.

Wary of your sporadic shooting, he wasn't sure how long you'd keep shooting, nor if it was even possible to not leave you dead out here in these woods. But the hit he had gotten in on you did more to subdue you than he needed - luckily. 

Only when he finally caught up to you did he see your soft features, lacking the facial hair most unkempt O'Driscolls had. You were a lady.

You pointed weakly at him with a stare so contradictory, but your grip on the gun was meek you couldn't aim properly. 

He flinched at the final shot you let out, your bullet sent whizzing past in a direction unseen, an unexpected shot from you. Just how many damn bullets did she manage to have?

Arthur stared at you as you tried to stop the bleeding, seemingly not even noticing you hadn't hit him. Your arm drenched your coats sleeve with a deep scarlet, soaking up every bit that seeped out of the wound.

Silly to state the obvious, but the bleeding, if continued at the rate it was at, you were going to be some wolves meal. 

He was reluctant to approach as you tore away at your chaps to stop the bleeding yourself, though it wasn't long till you finally slumped over. He cautiously tip toed to you, his first worry, your guns. He snatched them both up, confiscating your gun belt in the same breath. 

Arthur took in a deep, exasperated breath. Taking in another O'Driscoll didn't fill him with much glee. The rest of the gang would detest it, too. He could already feel their ornery. But just any O'Driscoll? That was false. He crouched down to examine the wound he had caused you, determining just what had to be done to aid you.

He called a few times to you, patting your cheek with his glove, checking wether you were alive or about to jump out at him, though the latter unlikely. Your cheeks started losing the rosy colour that the wind had cut through. Finest O'Driscoll he'd ever set his eyes upon - as regrettable as a thought that was.

"C'mon, O'Driscoll..." He murmurs, rummaging through his satchel. "Just how much trouble are ya' gonna give me?"

He shook his head. He'd have to make this quick. Your wound was still bleeding, and though your efforts did help, it was unlikely you'd make it out here alone, or alive. 

Removing your blood soaked jacket, he reluctantly unbuttoned your shirt to get to the puncture. 

The exposure sent goosebumps all over your soft skin. It was tough, but he did his utmost to keep from looking any further than your arm, all except a glance to assure there wasn't anything else outstanding for him to deal with. 

With the last of his gauze, Arthur packed your wound to the best of his ability. Every time you threatened to wake up, he prepared for the worst, though it seemed more paranoia than reality - perhaps the darkness and the hour was getting to him.

As he finished, he was relieved you had neither woken or died... both a strange contradiction. He gently buttoned back up your shirt, returning your jacket - have to find you something else soon. The blood on your sleeve started crunching as the ice claimed its territory, quick as it was. "Gang's gon' have me for this..."

He slid his arm gently under your lower back and legs, gently scooping you up. He'd have to tie you up before he set off, wanted absolutely no more blunders from you. The list of troubles you'd given him so far ever growing. 

That brought another line of questioning. A woman like you. An O'Driscoll. Solo train robber. Just what kind of person were you? Crazy one, sure, but how annoying would you be? He'd be responsible for you after all - a supremely risky investment. 

Through the flurry of thoughts and the wind kicking up the fresh snow, he wanted nothing more than what he had come here for. The bonds and the cash. 

Your horse had stopped only mere yards away, to much of his relief, he wouldn't be tracking anything else tonight. 

Arthur trailed up behind your mare, grabbing the loose reins before heading back in the direction you'd came.

---

Arthur could already tell in what ways you differed from Kieran, the one who was an O'Driscoll, yet so vehemently claimed he was not.

You had unfortunately entirely skipped begging for your life, screaming, or crying. You spoke to the one who shot you like there was a guarantee he wouldn't do it again.

It intrigued him. Were you just dumb? Being fearful never seemed to cross your mind.

But the more you argued, the more that intrigue turned to irritation and regret... If only you knew the trouble he went through for you. A stranger.

Arthur knew now perhaps the trouble he would have saved himself would've been worth it. Yet now here you were.

He questioned why someone like you was running with a gang like Colm's. Far too much loyalty and ambition - not to mention insanity.

Despite his curiosity, you were just as reluctant to speak as Kieran. Just as annoying too but in a more infuriating way.

Even as his patience wore thin, he still found himself unable to take the easy way out. There was a chance you knew more. Maybe you were closer to Colm. Maybe there was more use to you.

You hadn't gotten Arthur to do much this morning, as he was getting off easy after being asked by Abigail to take Jack to do something, something that would distract the poor boy from all the goings-on in this camp.

By no means were you mad at Abigail or Jack, but the snide look Arthur gave you as he walked by to his horse after telling the boy to get his fishing rod did.

"You think you're gonna get to leisure?" Snickering harshly as you decided then and there you were tagging along.

"Got business to do, I guess." He was more than happy to dismiss his duties, but you weren't letting up that easy.

"Fine then, but I'm coming with." You made sure you had all your guns, and though you didn't neglect them, you wished you had just so they'd be difficult for Arthur to clean. "Teach Jack to fish, but then you're cleaning my guns."

He bites back an argumentative retort, glaring at your face that now traded eachothers looks. A dirty smirk on yours and a vexed frown on his.

Pulling his eyes away from yours, he lifted Jack up on the back of his horse and pushed past you down the path leading to the river below the overlook.

Bouncing around on your horse after yesterday... you could feel most every part of your muscles burning and aching, especially your back, shoulders, and arms.

You wanted to get back at him, and now it was his turn to see how fun working was with a wound like yours.

Arthur and Jack spoke a bit of back and forth until you had enough courage to get your mare into a canter, much as your body protested.

"You feelin' better? I know you was a little sick." Arthur questions jack with a small check-up.

"Oh, I'm fine." He assures plainly. At that age, you recalled the simplicity of life.

"You're a brave kid." Compliments Arthur, the sort of warm speech you'd use with a kid. It didn't seem much Arthurs style, that's for sure, from what you were used to at least.

Jack looked up to Arthur, both literally and figuratively in that moment, confessing his conclusion. "So just like you."

Arthur gave him a chuckle, glancing over to you as you focused on not sliding out of your saddle with your sore legs shaking.

"I dont know about brave... I ain't much of a kid no more either." You were a bit surprised with this display, as typically he was all up in your face haughty. "Though your momma might disagree. Her and a few other women, I guess."

Now, his glance turned into more solid eye contact when you felt you were referenced in that sentence.

"I like it when you're agreeable." You nod with a certain light heartedness. The kind that was hard to muster around Arthur on a normal day.

His brow knitted together, but his playful look didn't completely vanish, no.

"What do you mean?" Jack chimes with confusion. He was still too young to understand humor of that sorts.

"Oh, I'm just talking silly. It's been a tough few weeks up in that snow."

"I liked the snow." Jack corrects as his eyes light up with the memory. For you, you'd been up there for only barely two days and didn't like it much. Their whole story of being up there you'd only caught snippets of.

The rest of the ride was short as you scoped out a good spot to fish at, Arthur and Jack, continuing a small conversation about the old camp and something he'd left behind in Blackwater.

It was tough for Jack, and tough to explain a situation like the gangs to a kid in a way he could not only understand but not start being worried or stressed.

You felt bad for him, but this whole trip was exactly for helping him not worry or stress.

Dismounting, you helped Jack down as Arthur got out the fishing supplies.

"You ready for fishin', Jack?" Distracting yourself with a question for him as your arms screamed at you with his weight being held.

He was still a bit skeptical of you. He knew about O'Driscolls and didn't like them much either as the rest of the gang. Did his part in pickin' on Keiran too, as young as he was.

His eyes scanned you with a harsh and genuine judgment only a young kid could give you, social skills not yet fully developed. "Yeah, I think so."

You walked him close to the water as you waited for Arthur, who wasn't far behind, holding the rods and bait.

"So, what was it you said you lost at Blackwater?" If it wasn't something completely unique, then perhaps you could get it for him.

"My storybook." He reiterates, clearly enough for your ears this time. That was easy enough for you to find. Probably. You hadn't seen a library in a long time.

"I'll see what I can do for you, hm?" You offer, not wanting to promise anything, just in case.

"Okay." He states plain as day. Conversing with kids was hard. So straight to the point most of them.

You stood back, heading for a small, dry rock to plant yourself on as you watched 'Uncle' Arthur verse Jack in the ways of fishing.

He seemed to catch on quick as they cast their rods out.

The whole setting by the river and birds achatter while Jack and Arthur were fishing, admittedly was the most calm you'd had for some time.

"I think you got a bite, look!"

The tranquil prattle ahead turned into excited calls from the both of them, your eyes drawing to the water to see what they spotted.

Arthur exclaims the same as Jack. "Fish on the line!" Safe to say, you hadn't seen Arthur like this at all before.

He reeled the line in as best he could as he fought with the thing, said thing, giving quite the scrimmage for its freedom against Arthur.

That was another learning chance for Jack, Arthur teaching him more tips along the reeling he was doing.

Once he had it close enough, he yanked it out. A dinky little thing, no bigger than your hand.

You let out a small snicker at his prize, one that perhaps wasn't worth the fight.

Arthur shoots you a look over his shoulder before holding it up to show Jack. "Look Jack, it's a bluegill! Almost as small as you."

Another small laugh came out of you at Arthurs laid-back teasing with Jack, who didn't seem much for the joke.

He threw the fish back in and cast his line back out, a short silence before Jack became disheartened with not catching anything. Wasn't long after that, he wanted to take a break, which was your time to strike.

As Jack strode a few feet away to a small patch of grass and flowers, you came up behind Arthur.

Your hand gripped above Arthurs shoulder, who jolted with your sudden arrival and touch just above his wound. "You see those guns on my saddle?"

He glowered at you next to him, glancing back and then to you again.

"I'll fish for you, get something bigger." You smile with raised eyebrows, feigning innocence over your cocky attitude.

Handing over the rod reluctantly, he went back unwilling to your mount to collect your guns. "Dont reckon you'll catch much better than me."

"Reckon I will. Dont doubt me yet."

"Too late for that."

You shake your head, switching your position to that of one you'd assume a professional would take. Likely it wasn't anyway.

"You got gun oil, or do I gotta use my own?" He gripes while he sat down in the distance between you and Jack, your shotgun and rifle in hand.

"Count it along my drinks you owe me." Gun oil was dirt cheap, and you didn't feel too bad if he had to use his own.

He grumbles something with a shake of his head and a quick venture into his satchel to grab some out. "I'm almost out since someone used most of it on my guns yesterday."

"They're clean, aren't they?" There was a chance you'd used a bit extra, but some of his guns were extra dirty, you shrugged. "We have to go to town soon anyways."

"Yes, we do." He was quick with his response, but both you knew your bounties would need to be paid off first. You just didn't want to arise any curiosity from Jack.

"I think you got a bite, y/n!" Jack points to the slight splashing in the water, just then finally paying mind to the tugging and whipping your head back around.

Bantering with Arthur distracted you from an activity you hadn't done for quite some time, something that you could agree with Jack on, was boring.

You reeled and pulled carefully, tugging the fish closer each time it stopped fighting. It took forever, and your full focus.

Just when you thought it finally conceded your attempt at yanking it to the surface, it pulled with vigor that near startled you.

"Dont loose it now, y/n." Arthur chortles behind you with his typical grating voice, the type that nearly lost you the fish.

As the fish finally slipped out of the water, you prepared yourself for the teasing you already knew you'd get from Arthur.

You could hear him chuckling evil. Both because of the fish but your confidence in your fishing ability. "Good thing we aint relying on you to eat."

"You weren't doin' much better than I was." Begrudgingly setting the small fish go before setting out the line again. You already felt like giving up. "I prefer fishin' in lakes anyway."

"I dont think you prefer fishin most of the time 'anyway'." His voice was much closer now, his steps near silent in the sand as he crept up on you.

"I fare better with guns, I suppose." You clicked your tongue disappointed that the fish proved Arthur right and your confident position started to slump. "Did you leave my guns in the sand?" You ask as you turn to give Arthur a look and your guns a glance.

Arthur was much closer than you anticipated, which somewhat shocked you. Not quite realizing how close he had actually gotten.

"Your guns are fine, but here." His chest suddenly met your back, and his hands finding themselves over yours. "You need to hold the rod like this."

You raise a cynical brow. Firstly, not realizing there was a wrong way to hold a rod, but secondly wondering why he was helping you physically, not just with his words.

The words you thought of saying prevented by another bite on the line. Jack calling it out again.

The sudden jerking caused Arthur to back up and let you at it, returning back to the guns he had left on the rock and thankfully not in the sand.

If you were not mistaken, the fight from this fish gave you hope that it was larger, but with that hope, a dread that your line was about to snap.

Arthur and Jack stayed just as silent as you, everyones sole focus on the splashing in the water as it wrangled closer to shore.

The splashes through the water made it hard to see how big it was on the surface, but you prayed and prayed it was big.

Finally, the splashing quit, and the fish revealed itself. The scales shone and glimmered in the sun as it wriggled in protest.

You looked over to them with dismay, both of them with a smile on their faces. "You think Pearson would be proud of me for this one?"

"No." Jack was quick to reply simply and truthfully, though a bit of a giggle mixed in as he fiddled with small red flowers in his lap.

"Pearson would be proud of himself if he caught the first one you had." Arthur chuckles along with Jack, finishing with your guns.

You couldn't help but laugh with them through the disappointment of another small catch.

As you threw the fish back into the water, Jack drew both yours and Arthurs' attention. "Hey, look at this."

"At what?" Arthur asks, walking back up to him.

You traipsed closer to get a better look, Jack holding up a necklace of flowers for display. "This necklace I made." Proud as could be.

"Necklace?" Arthur squints as he bends down to examine closer.

"For momma." Jack answers with a soft grip on it, cautious to not break any of the delicately knotted stems.

"That's sweet, Jack." You smile, impressed with his intricate craft. "Not even I can do that."

"Really?" He asked like it was something everyone knew how to do.

You handed back the rod to Arthur, who started deconstructing it for you. "I never learned properly -"

"What a fine young man." Interrupted a slithery voice behind you, which had you and Arthur both startling upright. "And in such complex circumstances."

In front of you had arrived two well-dressed men, dismounting and calmly floating to where the three of you stood.

"Arthur, isn't it? Arthur Morgan?" His tone and initial dialog was easy to be judged and labeled with ill-intent. The badges on their fancy and clean coats weren't helping either. "I think I've seen your face on a wanted poster or two, as well, miss." Now he directed, unexpectedly at you.

"Who are you?" Arthur made sure Jack was behind you and him, a sheild of sorts.

You already knew this wasn't business either of you wanted Jack hearing.

Arthur already had the same idea, both your eyes meeting, and with a small nod of agreement, you scooped up Jack as the man with a badge of the law spoke to Arthur.

Jack seemed confused as you walked away with him, your mind running with whatever would come out to distract him until you got out of earshot.

"Listen, I know I'm an O'Driscoll, but how 'bout we set our differences aside for a moment?" You ask softly, listening the best you could to the man as the distance silenced him. "Could you teach me how to make one of those necklaces?"

Jack contemplated you as he slowly slid out of your arms, your muscles ready to cramp. "Okay. But who are those men?"

You weren't even sure yourself, quite honestly. Whistling your horse over from where she stood grazing. "No one to worry about." You assured in the most comforting tone you could manage.

Now tagging along just for clean guns wasn't a bad idea, after all. You liked the boy, and avoiding any unnecessary trauma inflicted on him was the least you could do.

-

Arthur spread a gob of leather conditioner over your saddle that sat over his lap as you both sat at the table together.

You eyed him every so often. Occasionally, he did too, both making eye contact for a few moments. His eyes burned, and so did his pride.

The soup you ate while sitting in pensive silence with Arthur tasted even better while you watched him run the rag across your saddle.

If he hadn't made you chop so much wood yesterday, then youd've been sure to make him do some too, but as of right now, only splinters and small chunks of wood sat left.

Every time his eyes met yours, you gave him a content grin, which seemed to only peeve him off more.

"There'll be a time where I wipe that smile off your face." He growls at you from across the table. His movements with the rag getting more rough in his frustration with you. "Why are you sitting here, anways? I've seen enough of you for a day."

You stared at him for a moment before deciding to finish your soup, not bothering to retort first. "You remember when we were fishing just earlier?" You pointed your spoon at him all accusatory, sly, and teasing.

"Yes? I dont forget that fast." Then his anger fell, his head slowly turning to meet your look. His eyes squinted, and his lips pressed together when he realized where you were going with this. "Dont even start."

A slow chuckle started out of you as he tried to cease the progression of something worse with just a glare. "Was I actually holding that rod wrong?" You weren't direct. You wanted to see if he had an explanation.

"It's hard to hold something so simple wrong, yet you still did it."

Now you were confused, coming to a stand and traipsing over to his side, replaying your stance with an imaginary rod for a second. "You're right about the first part. But I wasn't holding it not normal?"

He looked up at you from under his hat, the darkness setting over the land making it harder to see his eyes.

"I think you just wanted an excuse." The crack at your lips grew with each time you teased without any specifics. He knew exactly what you were on about.

"Oh, for what?" His hand relaxed on the rag, now his full attention solely on you.

"Not even being an O'Driscoll seems to matter anymore." You acted all vaunt, but in truth, you weren't completely dead positive yet.

He raised his head up more to see you better underneath his worn hat. Your teasing didn't seem to completely anger him now, a sarcastic tug at his lips revealed itself. "Felt bad for the only lady who doesn't know how to fish proper."

You hissed out a small laugh, one that acknowledged him, but not one of letting him have the last laugh. "Maybe you felt bad for shooting me, so you gave me your best interpretation of a warm embrace."

That earned you a sharp chuckle, scoffing at your counter. "Save your nonsense for when we get our drinks."

"Then you best save your speakin' in general for that, Morgan." Shaking your head, you step up close to see the progress on your saddle.

"Sure, princess." He turned his head down and away to hide his face under the cover of his hats brim, the rag in his hand returning to its work.

You studied him sitting in front of you, thinking of anything that might annoy him more.

Your hand met his cheek, guiding his face to look back up at you. Not a peep or resistance from him, just sturdy and stern eye contact.

"You missed a spot." Pointing with your other hand to a small area in the dim candle light from the table.

Now his face felt warm, wether in reaction to your first gesture or anger at your words, you didn't know.

Your hand left his face, pushing down his hat over his face as you turned to leave. "When you're done, I'll have found something more for you to do."

---

The land around you briskly faced a blanket of darkness as the sun had just set, the colors had kept you busy for just a stint, longing for them as they faded into deep shades of gray and blue.

People were now rekindling their fires from the night previous, preparing for dinner, a preparation you didn't need to worry yourself with, as much as you wished you did.

Keiran was across from you, and despite being part of your gang, you hadn't exchanged many words. He never did seem too fond of the gang.

Neither of you conversed, not only due to the fact that he tried desperately to distance himself from being an O'Driscoll, but because everyone in camp would also be part of the conversation.

With Keiran ignoring you, and Dutch's gang shunning you, you may as well have been the naughty kid who sat in the corner with a dunce cap on.

The only thing that kept your sanity was finding out that, Arthur, so you came to know, had taken your horse with him that day.

With nothing to do but sit defeated, you zoned out, staring at your horse. The thoughts of escaping with her danced around in your head.

Revenge didn't even cross your mind, in fact, at this point you were willing to let it all go, so long as you had your horse.

Rival gang members came and went, gawking at both of you like zoo animals. At one point, a lady who seemed personally victimized by Keiran had come and dropped food on him.

You were slightly taken aback by her actions, you were hoping it wasn't just for the fact he's an O'Driscoll, otherwise you felt you'd be next.

It was clear you weren't welcome despite being forced to stay and by all means you were happy to leave if they'd allow it. You'd even take Keiran along as well, but they had no such plans.

Out of all the people who roamed before you, your eyes met with one, much to your despair.

You had had enough of the man over these past days when he would check on you, once or twice each day, occasionally giving you water but only teasing you with food.

He kept to asking you and Keiran both, where on earth Colm was, and on that earth, you couldn't give him the darndest of answers.

Each time threatening to rid of both of you right here and there every time you gave him the same answer.

He was no man to play games with, but you still played them. He threatened it but never did actually point the barrel of his gun at you again. You shivered as a small ache crept from your arm just thinking about it.

With the eye contact you regrettably made, Arthur finally decided he'd saunter over and have a friendly little chat with you.

You shifted your weight uncomfortably, your arms and shoulders hurting with every second you didn't stay still.

He seemed to have this look in his eye that you couldn't quite place.

"I reckon it's time to change that bandage of yours." He commented, half gesturing for your arm before looking down and reaching into his satchel.

You didn't want him to touch you, hell, you didn't even want that stinking man anywhere in your sights.

"No, please. I'd rather it get infected so god can take care of it instead." You dismissed, kicking out your leg in an attempt to wave him off since you couldn't use your arm to do so.

He snickered as he crouched down beside you, moving for his knife, and to your surprise, he started cutting at the ropes that kept you tethered to the tree.

"That'd be a good few weeks of worse pain before it finally took you, pain I can just save you from now."

"There's a lot you could've saved me from, not being a poor aim on the day you shot me would've been it." Jeering at him with sass.

Any relief you would have felt from the breakage of your bounds was cut short as you hissed out a gasp of pain.

His large, calloused hand wrapped and dug in just above your wound.

Your instinctual reaction had your right hand balled into a fist and swinging around into a hook that landed sweetly on the side of his face before you could do anything about it, or so that's what you claimed.

It caught him off-guard, taking him a second to react, by which he squeezed your arm even harder and reached for your other wrist in a tight, abrasive grasp.

You cried out while he manhandled you. "Fuck- quit grabbin' me like that, you big brute!" You stirred under him, but he kept you still in an almost a perfect manner.

The whole commotion caught everyone's attention, their turned heads held looks of confusion and surprise.

"Im tryna help your ass, woman." He snarled, keeping you from jerking around. "Hold damn still before I save myself the trouble instead."

You looked away, mumbling a curse under your breath. By no means did you relax, but you stopped fidgeting, he cautiously let go. His eyes burned holes through you as he did.

Suddenly, he reached for your buttoned shirt, you flinched back in befuddled surprise.

"Just what the hell do you think this is?" You demanded, fully desiring to line up another fist to his face, if it wasn't for the control he had over you with clasping your arm.

"Your sleeve doesn't roll up that far. Didn't I tell you to hold still?"

You felt overwhelmed with rage, and worst yet, you couldn't do anything about it.

"Don't look at me like that, how else do you think I took care of this for you before?" He adds, leaving you in silence.

A man undoing your shirt wasn't the problem. The man doing it, was.

"I was hoping you had left me in the care of one of the more dignified ladies here."

"You wandered off so far from where we camped, you would've died before then." He counters, shaking his head.

"And I would have thanked you, if you left it at that." You stayed arguing, but slighted your head up, giving him easier access to your buttons.

His eyes flickered from your face and to your shirt for a moment at your small gesture.

"Left it at that? Nah, I couldn't let you get away with all that money." He takes a moment, unbuttoning your shirt half way, exposing most of your bra.

It was enough to get your arm out but not leave much to the imagination.

"I was hopin you'd know more than your buddy, yet, neither of you annoying shits seem to recall jack all." He nagged, giving you a stern look before returning his gaze to your arm.

You couldn't say much in return when you felt him pinch and prod at your arm, needles running through your body.

You groaned your hurt, though he didn't seem to care much.

"Don't punch me again, y/n. I ain't beyond hittin' a lady like you."

You gave him a dismissive, smug look, shrugging your shoulder through the aching and burning he inflicted on you.

"I'll just skip that part and put a bullet through your other arm instead," he halts his medical measures and grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks in a firm grip. "You understand me?"

You shook your head away from his grasp, a small, childlike and petty desire to jab at him grew inside you.

"You sure feel me up a lot for someone who hates O'Driscolls so much." Your lips curl upward into a mischievous smile.

He raises a brow, leaning away from you, scoffing in disbelief.

"I'd prefer much anything over you, O'Driscoll." He gripes, returning back to your wound, unraveling the old bandage.

"Yeah, I can see that, considering you have me almost half undressed." You did your utmost to keep from looking at your wound, instead keeping your eyes on Arthur's face. His eyes kept strictly at your arm, never faltering as he lazily slathered on some sort of ointment.

"You're full of yourself. I wouldn't be doin' this if I didn't need to." He shakes his head.

As he finished with the fresh bandage, his hands finally had stopped poking you, leaving your arm in peace and an onset of relief.

"You know, I was thinkin' bout feedin you tonight," his words brought you back to how starving you were.

"Can't say I'm feelin' so kind now." His hand found the side of his face, his fingers inspecting the welt you had inflicted on his cheek.

Your stomach found his words utterly strangling, but begging him was out of the question.

"Dead people can't tell you where Colm is."

"So, the answer comes to you if you're fed?" His eyebrow shoots up, sarcasm plastered all over his freshly punched face.

"I can give you my best guess if you feed me." You explained, irritation being the entire undertone of your statement.

"You think guesses are gonna get you fed? Huh, girl?"

"That, or I simply wont have enough energy to think much on Colm." You cajoled, your smirk slowly returned.

"Careful with that mouth of yours, it's gettin' real tiresome." He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Yours reached that point way long ago." You fired back, his face now full of frustration.

"Glad to hear you're not hungry, O'Driscoll." He griped, returning rope to your wrists.

You full well expected it, but having them back on so soon displeased you beyond words.

Once he tied you up good, he got back up without a word and promptly left back to camp, leaving you alone on your tree once more.

You leaned your head back, wondering just how much longer they'd leave you tied up before they acted on their word of killing you both.

Minutes passed as you felt your eyelids get heavy, you didn't want to sleep, not until at least everyone else, but being tired, starving and having been shot only a few days ago left you exhausted.

"Don't you fall asleep yet, y/n." That man's voice chimed. You grimaced at his return.

The front of him was shadowed in contrast to his backside, which faced the camps fire light. You couldn't quite see what he held as he made for you.

"Couldn't get enough of me, huh?" You teased with a straight face, irritation filling you once more.

"You would like if I couldn't, wouldn't you?" A shit eating grin spread across his face at his own comeback.

You scoffed in response, staring him up and down as he got closer and to your surprise - the smell of food wafted into your nose.

Your whole body jolted with excitement, though, you couldn't tell just why he decided on feeding you.

He unties your wound-free arm, but hesitates when handing you the bowl in his hand.

"What?" You ask, looking up at him, his large frame towering over you.

"Say please." He demands, an evil look on his face.

"You're crazy. Now hand it here."

You reach for it but he pulls it away.

"Just say please, O'Driscoll." He laughs, taking a step back to avoid your waving arm.

"Quite actin' a fool and just give it to me." Your voice tightened with anger, your hunger almost possessed you into fighting him for it.

"Didn't anyone teach you manners? Please aint that hard to say."

"It is when the man you're saying it to is the same one that shot you. Now-" You reach again, your hand finally collecting the soup filled bowl.

You glanced back up at him, almost in shock that he actually let you grab it.

"Alright, alright, but next time, I expect some manners, O'Driscoll." He grins, knowing this set you off.

Next time? Next time, really? Your face furrowed with disbelief. "I'm happy you're an optimistic man, Arthur, but next time'll be in your dreams."

"Don't get too cocksure, darlin'."

"You know, you look pretty good when your face has a big red mark on it from my fist." You commented, shuffling in bites as you spoke.

"Really? Well, I think you also looked pretty good tied up all these days." He countered, the smile he had on his face ever growing.

That smile, on that nasty man. You hated it.

"Leave me to finish my food in peace."

He hums in consideration. "As much as I'd like to, you aint tied back to the tree."

You glower at him, desiring to eat slower so you could spend more time to rest your rope burned wrists, but ridding yourself of his presence felt more important.

You stayed silent as you finished the rest of your food, which didn't take long, tossing the dish to his feet and laying back on the tree so he could re rope you.

"That's what I like to see from you, O'Driscoll." He nods with approval.

You ignore him, your pride hurt with every moment more you had to give into this man and his crook gang.

He ties you back up and returns to the heart of camp.

It wasnt long before you finally dozed off.

-

(Set after the scene when Keiran gets interrogated.)

You sat petrified, still as the tree behind you, gelding tongs. They pulled down his pants for it too, if Keiran hadn't spoken up, you feared you'd be subject to it as well.

Goosebumps had crept up your back just thinking about those searing hot metal peices anywhere near your barren skin.

Keiran had finally come up with something.

Six point cabin.

You recalled having been there a few times, but was Colm up there? Your guess was as good as Keirans unless he actually was sure of it.

Arthur finally released Keiran from the tree, pushing him to the direction of the horses, then he came to you.

"You get to join us too, O'Driscoll." A small sinister smile creeps on his face, cutting through your ropes. "You better hope he's not trickin' us."

"Either way, if I'm rid of you, it's fine with me." He finishes, pulling you to your feet, guiding you to his mount.

"I'll get the most joy out of that, I reckon." You affirmed, somewhat stumbling as he releases you.

"Whatever you say, princess." He chuckles, closely following you.

Arthur calls out to a John and Bill, telling them just what's about to happen.

Keiran and a man with a nasty scar on his face were mounting, if you had to assume, the name John seemed best to suit him.

The other - Bill who had to be the man that threatened to 'geld' Keiran, coincidentally the one who also ratted on you that not so faithful day.

As you reluctantly walked along, you passed your steed you so woefully desired to mount instead, your ticket out of here. But Arthur quickly dismissed the thought for you, pushing you to his horse instead.

You gave him a hard stare in return, frustrated with his shoving.

"We're gonna pay your buddies our respects." He announces, entirely unconcerned.

"They taking us to Colm?" Questions John, steering his horse away.

"That's what he says." Arthur attempted to lift you up but you wave away his hands and pull yourself up instead, as much as your arm protested in agony.

Keiran stuttered out his assumption on where the cabin and Colm was, they pushed their horses in the opposite direction of camp.

Arthur mounted on after you, and for the first few moments you chose to hang on to nothing, however as if he knew, he kicked his horse to a trot, prompting you to grab at his sides.

Even underneath his layer of clothing, you could feel his heavyset build that helped keep you steady. Looking him up and down, a shiny metal caught your eye.

You were captivated at the sight of your revolver, missing the feel of it at your side and in your palm whenever you saw fit.

He had taken your gun as if you weren't still alive to be the owner of it.

You clenched your jaw, angry at everything and now finally riding to your more likely than not demise, worse yet, possibly executed with your own gun.

He kicked his horse into a lope, leaving you clinging to his sides firmly.

He turned to look over his shoulder at you, clearly in response to your tightened grip.

A small smirk crossed his lips before peering back to the trail up ahead.

The rest of the entire ride consisted of Keiran condemning O'Driscolls, bickering and directions shouted from you and Keiran.

It didn't take very long at the speed in which you rode, though you feared slipping off everytime you didn't have a good hold on Arthur.

You approached a small hill, Keiran confirmed the destination upon arrival.

"Okay, off your horses." Arthur draws back the reins. "Let's go." His voice now low in tone.

He jumps off and you follow suit shortly after, sliding off the back of his horse.

John reminded you and Keiran as you snuck forward, that he was keepijg his eye on you. Although you felt Arthur had beat him to it, he stared daggers at you as you crept along with the rest of them.

"I ain't gonna shop you now, come on." Keiran assures. "That'd be suicide."

"You'll die, boy. But you'll lose your balls first." Warned Bill, his gravelly voice blunt as could be.

Bill wasn't a man you wanted to be too close to with threats like that, so you kept closer to Arthur.

"Jesus christ…" Keiran murmured under his breath.

The lot of you kept low as you came to a ridge overlooking the cabin.

Keiran gave the rundown, confirming they were in fact armed, drunk and not fond of strangers.

Colm would be in the same way, just in the comfort of the cabin, which you agreed on.

Unlike Keiran's declared opposition, the O'Driscolls were a gang you rode with for a good while and despite Colm's nasty behavior, you felt a large sense of betrayal. Betrayal or your life, as it was now.

Your thoughts interrupted by three men emerging from the small cover of young trees, conversing about something miniscule and not far from earshot.

Suddenly Keiran was grabbed by John, a gun to his head and a hand over his mouth.

Arthur followed suit, pulling you into him, losing your balance with his sudden pull, your own gun held to your head and any potential cries for help blocked by his rough hand.

The now non existent barrier between your back and his chest was closed, you could feel each breath and each nervous heart beat against you.

♡