Chapter Text
Mary-Beth sat beside Karen in a warm patch of sunlight with an old book resting snugly in her lap. The black leather cover was cracked and faded with time and the pages had yellowed, only the story inside remained young and beautiful. A timeless classic. She could recite it word for word without ever turning a page if she chose to.
Yet, the familiar act of holding its rough edges and letting her eyes roam the old ink was always a comfort, especially in uncertain times like these. Her hands idled softly against its chipped spine as she tipped her head back to enjoy the sweet scent of blossoms on the breeze. Horseshoe Overlook was a beautiful place.
Karen had been on the bottle since sun up and now bored, dug an elbow into Mary's side, jarring the younger woman to her senses.
"You know, I've seen you with that book nearly every day since you started running with us. What is it?"
Mary flushed and Karen's' grin turned mischievous as she leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper and a quirked brow.
"Is it boys?"
"No!" Mary exclaimed, but the smile on her face was soft and fond as she placed a hand atop the book's damaged surface. "Well, sort of. It's a love story for the most part. But it's more complicated than that."
"It's always the quiet ones," Karen scoffed, taking yet another hearty swig from her bottle. The dark brown glass reflected the sun harshly into Mary's eyes and she looked down at her book, smiling to herself as she spoke.
"There's forbidden love and a castle. And a young woman who gets mighty swept away by it all, and, well, it turns out that the man she falls in love with isn't a man at all. He's a vampire."
Karen scoffed again. She could read but preferred not to. Especially not flights of fancy like that. She liked her men real and scrawny, with fiery red hair and quick, clever eyes that could have you questioning all you thought you knew if you dared look into them long enough.
Karen tracked Sean as he made his way over to Pearson's pot for breakfast. She was hoping he would join them, but the redhead hardly even looked her way as he grabbed his food and returned to his tent. Bastard. Same story as always. Only interested when he was steeped in liquor. They had spent the night together, sneaking off to his tent as the party wound down; all hard kisses, clacking teeth, and torn undergarments. But when the sun came up and the hangover set in it was all just smoke and mirrors. And she was once again his silly little whore only fit for purpose.
"What in the hell is a vampire anyway?" Karen asked, sullen. She tugged a clump of grass from the ground and started to mindlessly sift through the blades. "Sounds dumb."
Both girls looked up as Arthur joined them, a bowl of stew in hand. He looked tired, Mary thought. Dirt had settled into the crow's feet around his eyes and his posture was stiff. He had that nasty cough, too. More than a few times now she'd caught him keeling over, hacking up a lung when he thought no one was around to see. She'd asked about it. Of course, she had, dodging his snippy words delicately each time he threw them. Just allergies, mind ya business, woman, ain't you got nothing better to worry about?
Truth was, no, she didn't. She cared.
Arthur Morgan would hop to with a broken leg if it meant pleasing Dutch.
Dutch, who lazed in his tent with Molly while the boys were set to work. Molly. Stuck-up madam that she was. Never lifted a finger around camp, always with her nose pressed into that darn pocket mirror. Miss Molly and Dutch sat with a fur-lined floor and fancy bedside tables, decorative rugs to boot! And there Arthur lay pulling the heaviest load on a tarp cot with a tent roof full of holes. She had seen that darned tithing book and everyone knew damn well Arthur had paid the bulk of their fancy living quarters.
"Mornin' ladies," Arthur said. They offered him a polite smile before returning to their conversation.
"Well, the book says it's a man," Mary said, thoughtfully. "Only it isn't a man. He drinks blood and can't go outside during the day. Can't be killed like a normal man, neither. The only thing that hurts him is a stake to the heart or sunlight."
Arthur snorted, trying to fish a big chunk of meat from his stew as he sat beside them on the grass.
"Now, I ain't no doctor. But I'm pretty sure a stake to the heart would kill most folk."
Karen laughed in agreement and Mary rolled her eyes, "Will you two leave off? It's romantic, okay?"
"Drinking blood?" Arthur asked incredulously.
"No!" Mary put the book aside and shrugged her shoulders, tightening the shawl around them. Arthur watched her. Mary Beth was a rare woman to have in a camp like this. A hopeless romantic with a love for life that would thaw even the hardiest of wild men. He'd been awful keen on her for a while. But there was a fatal flaw to his attraction. Mary Beth was kind to him. More than he deserved and it chafed his skin like boot leather.
After taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she spoke.
"It's the temptation and the mystery of it all. He wants to be with her, but he's scared he might hurt her. That being with him would have her shunned by society."
Arthur purposely turned his eyes to his bowl and started fishing for another chunk of meat amongst the veg and gravy. Never had been very good when it came to talking about feelings, much less other people talking about their own.
"More importantly, he listens!" Mary said with a laugh as she swatted the outlaw, mistaking his meat hunting for ignorance.
Arthur rolled his eyes, "Well then If I see any rough, blood-drinking crazies out there who listen, I'll be sure to let you know."