Go Where You Breathe Free; a Arthur Morgan x OC RDR2 Fanfiction

by sunsetsinvalentine

Summary:

The price on Arthur Morgan's head was enough for Elodie Warner to buy back her freedom. She thought hunting Arthur Morgan would be simple. But in the Grizzlies’ white silence, the hunter becomes the hunted. Arthur Morgan is unaware of just who he captured, what she is capable of and exactly what she would do for freedom. Falling for the outlaw though? Well, that was never apart of her plan.

Notes:

Hi, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy. Update soon x

Chapter 1

The snow fell in lazy swirls drifting from the silver tarnished sky, the sun’s light made the blanketed white ground glisten like a thousand diamonds. My boots crunched against the ground, the creak of leather and the sharp rasp pf my breath under my scarf all muffled by the icy hush of the Grizzlie’s West. Out here silence wasn’t peaceful, it was a trap. I pulled my scarf higher up my nose, lifted my sighted shot gun and peered down the scope, watching the lone rider cutting through the snowfall ahead.

Broad shouldered, steady in the saddle, his horse was a thick coated bay that moved like it had all the time in the world. A white cloud of cold breath escaped the man’s mouth as he reached for a bottle of whiskey from his satchel. I watched as he took a swig, his eyes closing for just a second.

Five thousand dollars alive, three thousand dead. Enough money to buy a clean slate, start over, start a real life. Enough to hang up my guns and stop looking over my shoulder. I’d been trailing him for a week, slipping in and out of slight, sleeping cold and hungry while he camped in some spot I didn’t dare get close enough to find. Arthur Morgan was my ticket to freedom and I intended on cashing in.

The wind picked up and sliced through my hair, whipped my cheeks and made my eyes water. My finger brushed against the trigger, kill shot, game over, paid and on my way. Easy money. But that wasn’t what I wanted, what I needed. Alive. Which meant getting up close and personal, which meant risk. I shifted my weight ready to press forward something under my feet crunched that wasn’t just snow. Shit. I pause, holding my breath, my eyes firm on the prize. With an exhale I stepped carefully, stealthy like a cougar going for its prey.

Arthur Morgan turned his head his eyes set on mine, it wasn’t casual though. It wasn’t an idle glance over his shoulder; he looked right at me- like he had known I was back here all along. Our eyes met through the falling snow; my heart almost stopped it was beating so fast. His mouth curled at the edges into a smirk and that’s when I knew. I wasn’t hunting him anymore; I was the one being hunted.

I turned and ran, my guts dropping to the Earth’s core when I couldn’t spot the black coat of my horse. I sprinted as fast as I could, as fast as the thick snow allowed me, I whistled sharply for Cobalt, my eyes darting over a vast blanket of blinding white. I heard galloping hooves but not from the direction I expected, I whipped my head around to see Arthur Morgan, my prize money, riding his chestnut steed straight towards me with his hands grasping a lasso. I am so fucked.

As I felt the sudden constricting around me my feet left the ground and I fell hard, face first into rocky boulder, my chin teeth and mouth searing with pain. Blood stained the white ground, my vision blurred as I heard the neighing of Cobalt and her hooves crashing towards me. I let out a guttural scream of pain as I heard Morgan get off his horse, tightening the grip of the rope around my body as I stepped closer.

“Don’t… don’t kill my horse!” I screamed, the sound piercing and jagged, echoing off the mountains. 

He didn’t speak as he tied me up, tightly by the wrists and ankles, the rope almost sliced my skin. Face down in the snow, blood everywhere, my eyes stayed steady on Cobalt as she whinged moving from one leg to the other in fear. I screamed again, pleaded as Morgan lifted me up off the ground, a trail of my own blood lining the snow as he carried me.

“Don’t leave her here!” I growled with the wind was knocked out of me as he stowed me on the back of his horse.

“I don’t kill horses,” Morgan finally spoke as he mounted. “Bounty hunters on the other hand…”

“For fucks sake.” I groaned. “At least tether her on, she’ll die out here if you leave her.”

I felt Morgan’s weight shift as he reached back to snatch my face and twist so he could look me in the eye. His green eyes pierced mine filled with complete disregard for me, he looked absolutely terrifying. But he was handsome, even if his beard was overgrown and he hadn’t washed for weeks on end.

“Why would I do you any favours right now?” He said through gritted teeth.

His fingers dug into my jaw, my wound bleeding down his hand. My eyes darted from him to Cobalt who was still fussing as she watched on.

“Because you don’t kill horses.” I said, salty tears stinging my eyes. “Do what you want with me, I ain’t got much to live for anyway.”

I watched as Morgan mulled things over in his mind, his face softened but only slightly, he looked away for a moment but when he turned back to me his expression hardened again. I looked at him pleadingly, my mouth filling with blood. Morgan exhaled and let go of me roughly, pushing my head away as he got off his horse and approached mine.

Cobalt whinged and snorted as Morgan calmed her, his voice low and soothing, gentle. When he got her calm he pets her, running his hands against her coat, whispering to her. He led her towards us and tied her on; she bumped his hands with her nose in thanks. My heart clenched, relief, gratitude. When Morgan mounted again he shot me a look of complete disdain. I swallowed my words of thanks hard down my throat, unintentionally ingested some of my own blood causing me to gag. Morgan ignored me as I lay there staring at the ground and the dribbles of red dripping from my face as he drove the horses and I back down the hill.

The cold bit deep as the horses trudged through the snow, my blood dripping in steady rhythm onto the blanket of white below. The rope burned around my wrists, each jolt from the horse reminding me how quickly I’d gone from predator to prey. I clenched my jaw, trying not to whimper which each bump, trying not tot give him the satisfaction. The silence was worse than the ropes or the open gash on my face. Morgan didn’t speak, didn’t look back, just guided the horses like I was no more than animal corpse. My thoughts tangled and twisted, five thousand dollars slipping through my fingers, weeks of trudging in the cold and all for nothing.

“Are ya gonna keep starin’ holes into the back of head, or ya going say your piece?” Morgan’s voice drawled and I could tell he was smirking. “Most morons I catch beg to be set free.”

There was no panic in him, no cracks, he wasn’t rattled, not even by the sight of me looking down at him through the barrel of my shot gun. He seemed to be enjoying this, but he was ignorant. And despite what they say, ignorance ain’t bliss.

“I can’t be bothered,” I replied honestly.

“Ya know, it ain’t every day I find some woman trailing me with a shot gun,”

Some woman? Was he serious? I ain’t just some woman.

“I can assure you I have other weapons,”

Morgan laughed, “I’m sure yer do, are you sure you know how to use ‘em though?”

That jab rolled off my quicker than I could actually shoot him, if I had the chance. He didn’t know a damn thing. He didn’t know my name, my reputation or the price on my own head. He didn’t know I was a notorious gunslinger’s daughter, but thanks to the matrimonial change to my last name not a lot of folk knew that; nobody that was alive anyway. My heart clenched at the thought of the carnage which led me to this life but I didn’t ponder too hard or for too long. Because I realised I had the upper hand.

“We’ll have to see won’t we?” I sighed and Morgan chuckled as if to say as if.

I may have been tied up and bleeding, but I wasn’t broken. Not even close. Arthur Morgan thought he’d caught himself a desperate little beginner bounty hunter scrambling for scraps. Let him think that. Let him smirk and underestimate me.

Because I wasn’t done. Not by a longshot.

Chapter 2: Chapter Two

Notes:

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy x

I fell in and out of consciousness as the white ground turned to wet, brown and muddy. We had travelled out of the snow and across state lines, it felt like it had been hours and hours. At some point the air had changed and it had started raining- hard. I was soaked, face still bleeding and pounding in pain; I probably lost a lot of blood.

The rope around my wrists rubbed my skin raw, my stomach hurt, my bones chilled and I felt like I was going to vomit- maybe I did. The rain turned into a massive thunder and lightning show and Cobalt was getting spooked. She started trying to break free and bolt, I tried to calm her down but my throat felt like a thousand knives.

Morgan seemed to notice and cared enough to slow his horse down to a trot, I tried to peer up, I saw him look around, maybe for some shelter. He calmed Cobalt down once more reaching into his satchel and pulled out a carrot, offered it to her and she took it making a noise of satisfaction. We kept riding for what seemed like a long while through the storm, pelted by hard rain before we came across an old trapper’s hut, it seemed deserted. The roof was patched with mismatched boards, the door hanging crooked on rusted hinges, no one in sight.

“That’ll do.” I heard Morgan mumble to himself.

There was a small shelter with hitching posts off the right side of the hut which is where Morgan took us. He dismounted and tied both horses to the posts, giving them both a treat before turning towards me. I saw his eyes widen, just a smidge at the sight of me, halfway dead. Morgan pulled me off the horse, my body heavy and limp, a garbled mush of nonsensical words escaped my mouth as he carried me out of the rain and into the hut. He placed me carefully on a small cot, the mattress was dirty but it was soft, a nice change from the hardness of his horse’s rump. I watched dizzily as Morgan pulled out a knife, thinking he was going to end my life, I didn’t care at that point. Any ounce of care I had left had bled out of my face.

“Just fucking do it already,” I breathed.

“What?” Morgan paused, confusion written on his face.

“Kill me,” I said eyeing the blade.

Morgan pursed his lips and leaned towards me, I shut my eyes tight but when I felt the rope around my wrists being cut I was confused. I watched him as he sat me up on the cot, moving my arms in front of me and inspected my red skin before pulling the bandana from his neck. He bound me again, but the fabric was almost soothing to my sore wrists. He had enough human decency to not cause me even more pain. Morgan moved away from me and looked around the hut, he took a rag from the sink and came back. He kneeled in front of me and wiped the blood from my face, the gesture confused me but I was grateful nonetheless. I watched him as he cleaned me up, his eyes distant as if his mind was somewhere else.

“I got it from here,” I said, holding my bound hands up and took the rag from him.

“Put pressure on it,” he murmured as he turned and surveyed the hut again.

I looked around as I applied pressure to my wound, I’m not sure what good it would do, I had already lost a lot of blood. There was another cot on the other side of the hut, a table littered with papers and books, a sink, cupboard and a small fireplace. Morgan found a stack of wood and silently lit the fire. My body ached, my whole head felt like it had been dragged across the entire country and into the depths of hell.

“Thank you for not killing my horse…” I said quietly when the fire was lit and Morgan sat on the other cot.

“Didn’t do it for you,” he replied lifting his eyes at me, the same look of indifference.

I looked away staring at my boots, if I could, I would kick myself so far up my own ass for being so stupid. There’s a reason why Arthur Morgan hadn’t been caught yet, why he’s been a target for the law and bounty hunters across multiple states. I huffed and rolled my eyes at my own thoughts before I realised Morgan was watching me as he went through my satchel.

“Elodie Marie Warner,” Morgan said, he sounded bored as he rifled through my things.

“That’s me,” I replied returning the same tone.

He picked up a stack of bounty posters, all with my name on it, all with my price. I watched with a smirk as his eyes widened a little.

“Surprised?” I murmured.

Morgan looked up but only for a second, he was… speechless?

“Ten thousand dollars alive or dead. Wanted in four different states…” Morgan continued reading. “Armed robbery of civilians, banks, stagecoaches, assault, disturbing the peace… murder…”

“That’s pretty standard don’t you think?”

Morgan looked up again, he was… impressed. We stared at each other for what seemed like a long time, nothing but the rain and the shuddering sound of thunder and lightning to be heard. Eventually I looked away, I’m not particularly proud of my past but everything I did I had good reason. I assume the same for Morgan who seemed like he had a million questions to ask, but he only asked one.

“Want a smoke?”

I nodded and Morgan lifted himself up and sat beside me, took the rag that was completely soaked in my blood from my hands. He inspected my wound, informed me it had stopped bleeding but it would need to be stitched up at some point.

“Cigarette first,” I said.

“You’ll need more than a bit of tobacco,” Morgan replied with a humourless chuckle.

He slid a calloused hand into his coat pocket and fished out a crumpled pack of premium cigarettes before drawing one between his fingers. The faint scrape of the match against the box filled the air, followed by a sharp flare of light that painted his cheekbones in a golden glow. He inhaled slow, the paper crackling, the tip burning bright and as he exhaled, the curl of smoke wrapped around me like something alive. The scent of earthy tobacco laced with the faint musk of his skin made my breath hitch.

“Here,” he murmured low, almost like a purr, the sound curling down my spine.

He took the cigarette from his lips; the end glowing and lifted it toward me. I went to take it from him but he ignored my extended bound hands. His knuckles grazed my jaw as he slid it between my lips, the brief contact burning hotter than the smoke I took a long drag from. When I exhaled the smoke rose between us, and he leaned in just enough for it to mix with his breath, warm, heavy, intoxicating.

“Don’t burn yourself,” he said voice husky, but it didn’t sound like a warning.

Chapter 3: Chapter Three

Notes:

Thankyou for reading, hope you enjoy x

Morgan placed a whiskey bottle at my feet, the glass clinking against the wooden floorboards. I looked up at him as he kneeled in front of me and took my wrists. My heart skipped a beat, and I frowned as I watched him untie his bandana.

“Make a move and I shoot,” he murmured, his green eyes piercing mine. “Got it?”

I nodded, unable to speak. I’m not saying the thought of running didn’t cross my mind- because it did- but I knew Morgan would keep his word and I’d be dead. I’d be free, technically, but dead.

“Here,” he said, his voice low, almost grudging, as he handed me the whiskey bottle.

I took it without hesitation, letting the cool glass press into my palm before tipping it back. The burn tore down my throat, heat blooming in my chest that almost drowned out the throbbing in my face. Almost. When I lowered the bottle, swallowing my last mouthful of liquid fire, Morgan was already leaning in with a clean cloth in one hand, the other steadying my chin. His expression was cold but not uncaring. We gazed at each other for a moment before he doused the rag in whiskey to sterilize it. He handed me the bottle again, and I took another swig before setting it back down.

“Let’s get this over with,” I slurred, my eyes already heavy, my mind already dizzy.

Morgan almost smiled, just a little curl at the corner of his mouth, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

“This will hurt,” he told me seriously. I nodded.

The first touch of the whiskey rag against my open wound stung like a red-hot lightning bolt cracking under my skin. I flinched, my eyes watering and my jaw clenching, a strangled growl escaping between my teeth.

“Hold still,” Morgan murmured patiently, his thumb brushing against my jaw to keep me steady.

He worked quickly, wiping away dried blood, dirt, and sweat. His breath was steady and even, close enough that every exhale ghosted over my skin. I started to zone out-either because I was getting used to the pain, or because I was a bit drunk-but it was becoming bearable.

“That was the easy part,” Morgan said, setting the rag aside and picking up a needle and thread.

He met my eyes for a moment and my stomach knotted-not from fear, but because I knew this kind of pain. I remember it, but I wasn’t scared to feel it again. There weren’t much I was scared of these days. The first prick was quick, but the sharpness lingered. The pull of the thread was just as bad as I remembered it-tugging skin together in a way that made my vision blur. My hand shot out before I could stop myself, gripping Morgan’s arm as the second prick hit harder. A strangled gasp escaped my lips as I instinctively tightened my hold, feeling the firm muscle beneath the worn cotton of his shirt.

Morgan didn’t pull away or react, not even when my nails began digging into his skin. As he worked, I sobered fast, and the pain-familiar though it was-became almost unbearable. I squirmed and whimpered, clutching both of his arms now, the space between us closing in. We were so close, I could feel his heart beating, feel the strength in his arms- in his whole body. He was more patient with me than I thought he would be.

“Almost there. Just one more,” he said, his voice smooth.

I loosened my grip, opening the space between us again as Morgan finished the last stitch and tied it off. He lingered for a long moment, watching me with a kind of softness I hadn’t seen yet. He broke eye contact to pick up the whiskey bottle and handed it to me. Our hands touched as I took it from him, his fingers on mine for maybe only just a second but everything felt like it was slowing down now.

“You need to rest,” Morgan said gently. “And then we’re leaving.”

I just nodded and drank the rest of the bottle, feeling the burn wrap around me like a blanket. Morgan gave me a piece of bread and I drunkenly ate it, everything tasted so much better when intoxicated. He bound my wrists again with his bandana and I slipped into sleep before my head hit the pillow.

*

When I awoke the rain that stopped, the hut was in silence for the first time since we arrived here. At first I forgot where I was, who I was with and under what circumstances. My vision was blurred and I felt groggy, hung over and my face was sore. I groaned quietly as I sat up shakily, feeling heavy and disorientated.

“Here,” Morgan’s gruff voice made me jump and the events prior to my waking flooded back to me.

He gently shoved a cup of water into my hand and some bread, his eyes running across my face. I frowned and grumbled, “The fuck are you looking at?”

Morgan chuckled, his face twisting into an expression I hadn’t seen before, a smile. “Well, you’re not a morning person,” he said. “I’m checking the stitches.”

I lifted a hand to the side of my face instinctually, the memory of my head smashing into that rock on the snowy hills flooded my mind and I winced. “Do you have a mirror?” I asked.

“It looks alright, now that it’s clean,” Morgan said in an unusual reassuring tone. “Should only be a thin scar, if you don’t pick the scabs.”

“I… can I just have a mirror?” I asked again smoothing my voice.

Morgan gave a short nod and moved away from me, cross the room to the table where his own satchel was and rummaged through it. My eyes lifted to the small window which overlooked the horse shed, I could just see Cobalt through the grimy glass. Morgan found what he was looking for and made his way back to me, he sat next to me- close enough for our arms to touch- and handed me the small compact mirror.

“It’s really not that bad,” he said, I guess he was trying to make me feel better.

I opened the compact, which was silver and engraved with styled swirls and tiny flowers; he probably stole it. My reflection stared back at me, my brown eyes bloodshot and tired. The sewn shut wound didn’t look too bad- Morgan was right- but it was red and angry and extended from the side of my mouth and up between my eyebrows in a jagged line. It was already starting to bruise, deep blueish purple splotches forming around the edges. I pursed my lips at my reflection and snapped the compact shut, handing it back to Morgan.

“You can keep it,” he said with what seemed like a smile, but it was small.

“Thanks…” I murmured as he got up, pulling his jacket on and picking up his hat from the table.

“We’re leaving in twenty minutes, I’m gonna get the horses ready,” he told me.

I frowned, “What… what is your plan?” I asked as Morgan fished a cigarette and stepped over to hand it to me.

“What do yer mean?” his brows knitted together, confused- had he forgotten why I’m here?

“Um, are you planning on turnin’ me in or… what?” I exhaled, anxiety bubbling in my gut for the answer.

Morgan paused as I lifted the cigarette to my lips and he handed me the matches. Judging from his expression I guessed he hadn’t decided yet, but I knew the sum of my prize was tempting.

“I ain’t decided yet,” he said softly. “But I need to get to Valentine, so I guess you’re comin’ with me.”

I sighed and lit my cigarette as he turned and headed for the door, I watched him through the window when he reached the horses. He fed and petted them both, brushed out their coats, checked their hooves… he was gentle, caring, which was nice. I wondered if I’d ever see more of that side of him towards me.

 

Chapter 4: Chapter Four

Notes:

These first chapters are rather short but I promise they'll get longer soon. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy. Comments are so welcome, looking forward to hearing from you xo

The air outside was icy, the breeze whipped through my hair and seared my face as I stepped out of the hut. Morgan was tethering Cobalt on, I made my way over and he looked up; Cobalt whinnied at the sight of me. I greeted her with a pat on the nose; she nuzzled me affectionately. I’m so glad Morgan didn’t leave her on that mountain. My wrists were still tied with Morgan’s bandana; it was getting annoying- the fabric was making me sweat and doing simple things was becoming increasingly irritating… I huffed a little in annoyance to which Morgan looked up curiously.

“You alright there?” he queried with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with something- humour?

I raised my wrists in the air and grumbled, “Is this still necessary? It’s very constricting and I still feel claustrophobic despite finally being out of the damn hut!”

“You really are not a morning person,” Morgan actually laughed- genuinely.

“And don’t think for one second I am going belly over the butt of your horse, I swear I have bruises on my ribs!” I ignored his remark. “I really need this off!”

“So you can run?” Morgan asked.

“So I can readjust my undergarments!” I cried infuriated.

Silence fell between us and I watched as Morgan’s expression crack, he burst into laughter almost falling to the ground, throwing his head back and stumbling a little. It seemed like he hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. Can’t say I was happy for him; I wasn’t happy about any of this.

“Can you stop?” I groaned. “Just hurry the fuck up and decide if you’ll turn me in or not so I can at least scratch my ass and pick wedgies as much as I damn please.”

Morgan was still giggling, although seeing my seething expression he was trying to stifle his laughter but it was puffing out of his lips like little farts. It only made him laugh harder. For fuck’s sake. I let out an annoyed groan and lifted my wrists up, giving him the deathliest stare I could; if I could place my hands on my hips in annoyance I would. Morgan spluttered and coughed as he tried to stop laughing, eventually he managed to with a deep clear of his throat.

“Alright, fine,” he said after a moment of me staring him down. “But you’re sitting behind me.”

I stepped forward and held my hands out to him, Morgan pursed his lips and gave me a warning pierce of his eyes that said ‘try anything and I shoot’ but something made me think he wouldn’t even though he very much could. He untied the bandana and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans, my wrists were read raw, despite the fabric being better than those ropes. I stepped back reaching behind me but stopped when I realised Morgan was still looking at me.

“At least give me the decency of turning around so I can… adjust myself,” I grumbled.

Morgan’s face lit up again, he muffled his laugh by covering his mouth with his hand and turned around.

 

*

 

I was mildly uncomfortable on the back of Morgan’s horse, my chest pressed up against him, my arms around his middle. We travelled for hours without stopping, my arms were getting numb and my face hurt, throbbing red hot pulses only made worse by the icy wind. We got past Strawberry when I noticed Morgan’s shoulders tense, his head moved to the left side and I followed where he was looking. Four men on horses approaching- guns drawn-their voices muffled by the wind.

“Arthur Morgan!” one of the men called out as they closed in on us.

“What?” Morgan bellowed, the vibration of his voice made me flinch.

The man surrounded us, blocking the path forward. The leader who was a dirty looking man, thick beard, in a dust-stained coat, spoke again as the other looked on. I recognised the thick heavy set, barely any neck, fat sausage fingers… some kind of skin condition running up the side of his face. I had run into him once in Blackwater, I was sitting in the saloon eating and he thundered in, sat at my table and slapped my bounty poster into my unfinished meal. He snarled gotcha and it was a mad cat and mouse chase all the way up towards tall trees where one of my bullets finally hit him- in the arm but it slowed him down enough for me to hightail out of there before he got me. I watched behind Morgan as the chunky bounty hunter peered over my way, his eyes like slits and his mouth curling into a smirk.

“We’ve been looking for ya,” the leader drawled flashing his yellow teeth as he smiled.

“And look who it is!” the big man piped up, momentarily confusing the other men- until they saw me.

“Well, well, what a treat!” the leader grinned.

Morgan started a back-and-forth with them, in my opinion wasting precious seconds. While his voice carried over the wind, I slid my hand toward his hip. The weight of his pistol was warm against my palm as I eased it from the holster without so much as a hitch in his sentence. My boots hit the dirt a moment later, knees bending to absorb the drop.

The bounty hunters’ eyes were on him, not me.

I raised the pistol, breath steady, and the first shot cracked like thunder, punching a neat hole clean between the leader’s eyes. He didn’t even have time to look surprised—just slumped sideways in the saddle, his horse sidestepping with a frightened whinny. Before the others could blink, I swung to the right. The young blonde’s smirk died in the same instant the bullet took him, his bowler hat tumbling as he pitched backward off his chestnut mare. The silent one twitched- rifle coming up- but my third shot split the air and dropped him like a rag doll, his hat spinning in the dust. The heavy one was last, and his shotgun had barely lifted when I put one through the bridge of his nose. His big frame went limp, sliding out of the saddle with a dull, ugly thud. Gotcha.

It was over in less than five seconds. Four men, four shots. My ears rang in the sudden quiet, the smell of burnt powder curling in the cold air. Morgan blinked at me, his expression first appearing surprised, then angry and then impressed.

“Ten thousand… alive or dead?” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yep,” I replied handing back his gun. “Come on, let’s loot and leave.”

 

*

 

On the rest of the way to Valentine we came across one more group of bounty hunters, but they were accompanied by the law and a couple of Pinkerton Agents. We didn’t waste time in disposing of them this time, I could tell Morgan was tense and he kept looking around us, watching the tree lines; he was worried. When we finally reached Valentine the sky had changed and the sunset painted the town with a warm orange and pink glow. Morgan took the horses to the stable for the night and we walked tiredly towards the hotel.

“Two rooms please,” Morgan said to the attendant at the front counter who was reading the newspaper.

“Ah, good to see you again,” the man looked up recognising Morgan. “But unfortunately, we only have one room available, I can throw in two free baths though?”

Morgan glanced at me and I shrugged; he nodded in agreement and paid. We dragged our feet walking up the stairs, both heavy with eyes.

“Take the bed I’ll sleep on the floor,” Morgan murmured as he placed a pillow and a spare blanket in front of the fire.

I didn’t respond, too focused on the bed and wanting to fall into it. I pulled off my jacket and boots and crawled into bed. I lay awake listening to Morgan snore in between muttering to himself in his sleep, I wondered what he was going to do with me-now that we had bounty hunters and the law tipped off to our travels. Eventually, I fell asleep, a deep slumber of nothingness.

Chapter 5: Chapter Five

The sound of thunder and lightning woke me up first, the flash of electricity lit up the room and shook the whole building. My heart was pounding against my rib cage, my eyes wide and my mind hazy. For a moment I forgot where I was, it seemed that happened to me quite frequently. I peered around the room and found Morgan sleeping in front of the fire that had burned out, the room was cold and he was shivering. The sound of his teeth chattering distinct, he was curled over on his side with his arms around him, hands pressed under his pits.

“Morgan,” I spoke into the nights air. “Morgan!”

He jolted awake, white breath expecting his mouth as he mumbled sleepily, “What is it?”

“You’re freezing, get into bed,” I said wriggling to the other side of the bed and holding up the covers for him.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but his words were shaky from the cold.

“Morgan, get in,” I sharpened my tone and he lifted himself off the ground and wandered over.

He paused for a second watching me before getting in beside me. I don’t know what made me do it but I snuggled up to him, resting my head in the crook of his neck, wrapping my arm around him as the blankets covered us. His body was cold and vibrating with the chills, I lifted my hand to rest on his chest and I could feel his fast-beating heart on the palm of my hand.

We lay in the silence like that for what felt like a long time, only the sound of our breaths and the dwindling storm outside. I felt his hand touch my arm, the warmth returning to his rough calloused skin. I felt his head bend down to face me; I could just see him in the darkness only slightly illuminated by the sky through the window. I don’t know how it happened. Or why. I just know that when he kissed me, it sent electricity through my nervous system.

His lips grazed against mine, warm and tasting faintly of whiskey and cigarettes. The kiss was slow and searching, as though neither of us wanted to come up for air. His hand slid to the small of my back, the heat of his palm seeping through my shirt. The roughness of his skin scraping lightly against my skin. His weight pressed into me and he moved slightly on top of me, the faint creak of the mattress beneath us loud in the quiet.

A muffled mewl escaped my mouth as he kissed me deeper, parting our lips as my fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt gently tugging to indicate I wanted it discarded. Morgan moved his hands across my chest, feeling his way to my breasts, the sharpness of my erect nipples. He kissed my neck, trailing his lips down my collarbone.

The moment swelled, our breaths hitching, the sensation of pleasure rippling through us- until a violent and deafening crack of lightning flooded the room in a stark white, followed by a thrash of thunder so sharp it made the glass in the window rattle. We both stilled, our heart hammering and our bodies vibrating with desire. The taste of him still lingering like something I wasn’t ready to let go of. We stared at each other, silent, curious, waiting; I kissed him again, gently before pulling away. I exhaled and shifted a little underneath him and he moved back onto the mattress. I snuggled up close to him again, listening to the sound of more rain and thunder.

“I ain’t turning you in,” Morgan’s voice rumbled through his chest.

I looked up at him a small smile spreading across my mouth.

“But I ain’t letting you go neither,” he continued and my smile disappeared.

“With bounty hunters, the law and Pinkertons out there… I reckon you should stay with me,”

“I…I can...”

“I know you can take care of yourself… I’ve seen it,” he continued. “But I’d very much like to do that again…”

I was silent, thinking. I’d been on my own for years, since I was eighteen… I ran with a couple of gangs for a couple of years, but I always preferred to be alone; even when it was isolating and lonely. I knew what this meant, another gang, the Dutch Vander Linde gang. One of the most sought-after group of outlaws in the country. I could either go on the run again by myself or have some protection in numbers the gang offered. And in all honesty, I’d very much like to do that again as well.

“Elodie?” Morgan said breaking the silence, using my name for the first time; waiting for a response.

“Arthur…” I replied my voice hushed. “Alright… I’ll stay with you.”

*

The next morning, I woke to the sound of soft, steady rain pitter pattering against the window as pale morning colour filtered into the room. My eyes blinked open slowly, my lashes heavy with sleep, the room coming into focus in a hazy blur. I could hear the faint creak of the hotel settling and nearby sheep and chickens. I became aware of Morgan next to me, his chest rising and falling gently, a slight whooshing sound escaping through his parted lips. I curled over on my side and wriggled up against him, he stirred a little and he moved his arm around me. I wasn’t sure how this thing with us happened, or why, but it was nice and it felt natural. I ran my hand up his chest, the warmth in his body radiating into my skin, he made a little noise as I brushed my lips against his neck.

“Morning,” Morgan murmured sleepily, wrapping his other arm around me; his strength locking me in.

“Hey,” I replied, my voice low and husky.

Morgan’s arms felt heavy around me, I liked being in his arms, I like being this close with him… I liked him. I didn’t quite understand it yet but I was curious. I shifted slowly, breaking away from the embrace, slipped my leg around his waist and lifted myself so I was straddling him. Morgan made a throaty purring noise as his lips curled into a smile. I leaned down, pressing my body against his, my fingers tangling in his hair. He looked up at me expectedly, I grazed my lips against his chin, biting his bottom lip gently at the same time as circling my hips against him. I felt his excitement; it sent chills up my spine as I kissed him and he instinctively grabbed my waist. Morgan kissed me deeper, harder, focused and his tongue swept against mine with a slow insistence that made me internally shiver. His hands tightened at my hips and he pulled me closer until I could feel every inch of him beneath me, hard and unyielding through the fabric between us. I rolled my hips again, just slightly, testing the friction and his low groan rumbled against my lips, vibrating straight into me.

“Elodie…” Morgan breathed, almost like a warning but his grip only tightened, holding me there.

“Mmmm…?” I sighed as I tugged at his shirt button.

“I’m a little dirty…” he said self-consciously.

“I like it dirty,” I said huskily kissing him again, but he pulled away with an embarrassed smile.

“I mean,” Morgan exhaled. “I could use that free bath right about now…”

He seemed shy, his cheeks flushed a little and I smirked trying to stifle the laugh that was rumbling through me. Morgan gave me a warning look, “Don’t you dare laugh at me, you smell ripe too.”

“Do I?” my eyes boggled and I shot up, scrambling off him, immediately embarrassed.

It was Morgan’s turn to laugh, almost the same why he had when I was begging for my wrists to be untied so I could pick my underwear from migrating somewhere they really should not be. Morgan was getting up, chuckling as I was internally freaking out, he grabbed my hand and pulled me back towards him.

His grip was firm but gentle, the kind of pull that made my heart stumble before I knew it I was laughing too; but not without an irritating thought playing on loop in my head.

This wasn’t part of my plan and it is not like me to sway off course. Am I really going to risk my freedom and fall into the lusty embrace of Arthur Morgan?

I haven’t decided yet.

Chapter 6: Chapter Six

Riding into the Van der Linde on the back of Arthur’s horse with my arms laced around his middle felt strange. Whilst in Valentine, Arthur and I took our separate free baths and he went to attend to some business leaving me alone in the room. I’d let things slide with him, I let my guard down too easily and so did he. When he was gone I went over everything in my head and decided I would pull back on my flirtations, it would just lead to trouble.

As we rode into the camp, a man guarding the perimeter called out ‘who’s that?’ to which Arthur replied ‘it’s me you moron, plus one’ the man chuckled and as we slowed to approach him I recognised him. John Martson. I knew him, spent time with him- not like that- but we run into each other a few times a few years ago. We rode and stole together for a while and then he kind of disappeared. I figured he had gone back to his family; we talked about them a lot, his certain anxieties regarding fatherhood and such. I hadn’t seen him since then apart from bounty posters, but I never picked them up to peruse his price, only to destroy them. We were friends. I realised I may recognise a lot of people here from bounty posters.

“Brought a girl home, Arthur?” John teased, his mouth flicked in a smirk.

Arthur and I both snapped our heads towards him and frowned at him, “fuck off” we spat in unison. John Marston chuckled as his eyes took me in, I watched as his expression changed from smug to surprise as he recognised me.

“Warner? The fuck are you doin’ here?” John stumbled over his words, his face lighting up briefly as he almost smile but his eyes shifted to Arthur’s. “What happened to your face?”

“What happened to yours?” I countered raising my eyebrow, even though it hurt like hell.

“Wolves,” he replied gruffly.

“Boulder,” I rolled my eyes.

John Martson laughed and I couldn’t help but join in, we spent many nights camping in the wilderness laughing all night. I could feel Arthur tense in front of me and bit the inside of my lip. John coughed a little on his laugh and cleared his throat, his eyes shifting towards Arthur who was sitting there expectantly.

“I’ll tell you about it another time, Morgan,” John said and Arthur shrugged as he slightly kicked his horse to a trot.

“See you later?” I called to John as we rode into camp and he nodded with a short wave.

The smell of woodsmoke and bubbling stew hit my nose, mingling with the sound of laughter and chatter, someone chopping wood, an abundance of nature sounds and horses nattering. They all looked up as Arthur reined the horses in with curious and measuring eyes. The weight of them made my hand twitch toward my holster out of habit. Arthur dismounted first, his eyes casting a warning glance at me, he hitched both the horses and motioned with the jerk of his head to get down. I swung my leg over the horse and slipped to ground, my boots sinking slightly in the wet earth and followed Arthur into the camp.

The head of the gang game sauntering out from the main tend, arms spread wide like he owned the whole world. He was dressed rather extravagantly for a wanted criminal; fingers laced with chunky gold rings. He didn’t strike me as someone you messed with but could get messy.

“Arthur, you brought a girl home?” he joked but his expression was not humourless, he seemed wary of me and a little pissed off for some reason.

Arthur didn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch until he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Elodie Warner, she’s been ridin’ with me a spell.”

The camp murmured, whispered flicking between the women by the wash line and the men lingering at the campfire. My name carried weight, recognised by nearly everyone. Dutch’s brows rose just a touch and for a moment I could see the calculation in his eyes. Dutch squinted his eyes at me as if sizing me up, I suppose deciding whether or not to let me stay. He watched me for what seemed like a long time. By the time he spoke again the rest of the camp had mostly gone back to their own businesses, but some still watched.

“That’s quite a laceration, Miss Warner.” He commented and I shrugged as if it were nothing.

He continued, “You look very familiar...”

Arthur shifted beside me; I could feel his tension from where I stood.

“May have seen my bounty posters around?” I suggested with a bored drawl.

“Mm yes I have,” Dutch nodded. “Pretty notorious for a little lady,”

“I’m well past the age and the experience of little lady,” I chuckled with a roll of my eyes.

Dutch seemed to like that, his laugh was low and mostly rumbled in his chest. Arthur shifted again awkwardly beside me. Something told me he didn’t quite trust Dutch, I could sense it, it was deeply rooted within his being and hidden.

“I’ll figure it out, in time,” Dutch hummed, finally looking at Arthur who straighten up a bit as if standing to attention.

“She won’t cause issue for the gang, Dutch,” Arthur said and I glanced at him. “Might not stay long, maybe until things cool down a bit.”

I noticed Arthur’s last sentence almost sounded like a question meant for me. I glanced at him, long enough to make an expression that also indicated a question, fast enough for Dutch not to notice.

“Alright, go on before there’s no stew left. I’ll speak to you later Arthur,” Dutch nodded. “Welcome, Miss Warner.”

*

The rest of the day dragged on a bit; Arthur lingered with me like he was protecting me from the rest of the camp. Throughout the day I met nearly everyone, there were a few missing I was told, out working apparently. Arthur and I ate at the campfire closest to his tent, had coffee and a cigarette afterwards, we were mostly silent, listening to the other men at the campfire. At some point a sharp woman named Susan Grimshaw came bustling over, she gave me a hard stare before she turned her sights to Arthur.

“I assume our newcomer needs a place to sleep?” she asked, she seemed irritated and I sensed she wasn’t someone to piss off. I looked at Arthur who was halfway through a drag of his smoke so he couldn’t respond straight away.

“If it’s alright I have a spare bedroll and tent on my horse I can pitch somewhere,” I said watching the woman’s glare turned into a genuine smile.

“Well, that’s less work for me to do!” she sighed with relief or happiness and Arthur chuckled beside me as he exhaled smoke.

“I’m very self-sufficient,” I smiled and offered out my hand in greeting. “Elodie Warner.”

“Susan Grimshaw, I trust you will make yourself useful while staying here? Chores, mending clothes?” she smiled curtly as she shook my hand briskly and rather hard.

“Oh, I’m afraid I don’t mend clothes, I’m honestly rather useless when it comes to that sort of thing,” I frowned biting the inside of my lip but Susan’s smile didn’t fade. “I was never a very good housewife…”

I bit my tongue so hard I’m sure I drew blood, Arthur piped up then and told Susan I could hunt- animals, bounties, rob and chop wood to earn my keep. To that she nodded her head, satisfied and was turning to leave before she asked another question.

“I suppose you don’t cook at all?” and Arthur chuckled again.

“We’re getting bored of stew around here,” he filled me in.

“I can cook, but I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

I don’t know why I was being so polite, I don’t want to cook for these people. I’ve never liked it; it’s the most mundane thing I’ve ever done. I was too tired to be having these mundane conversations; I was seriously going to lose my head if I had to speak to another person. I didn’t say that though. For long time I’ve lived on canned food, meals at saloons and the animals I’ve hunted and that suits me just fine. I had no desire to ever cook

“I do have some old recipes though,” I offered, Susan said that’d be very helpful and she was off, I heard her barking at some of the women nearby for slacking off.

I finished my smoke and told Arthur I needed some air, he informed me with a smirk that we were outside and I frowned. I got up and walked away, he didn’t follow, I think he understood this was somewhat overstimulating for me. I’d been on my own for so long, so used to being my own boss and doing my own thing. I wandered outside the camp, pausing briefly to feed and pat Cobalt who seemed content around other horses. I walked down the path we and spotted John standing on sentry. He turned before I could even make a noise.

“Tell me you have a cigarette; I ran out an hour ago.” He said huffily.

“I’m claustrophobic here already,” I told him as I handed him a smoke and lit up my own.

“It ain’t that bad once you get used to it,” John exhaled his smoke and sat himself on the ground.

“So, where’s your family John?” I asked curiously, I hadn’t seen a child anywhere just yet.

John’s mouth curled into a smile, “Jack needed a haircut so Abigail took him into town.”

“Jack,” I repeated his son’s name with a grin. “Are you happy you came back?”

John thought for a moment while he took a drag of his smoke and exhaled the cloud to the left of me. Then he nodded, it was short but confirmation. He didn’t have to explain further, I see the love dripping off him. Even if he was sometimes stressed with married life and fatherhood, I knew him well enough to know coming back was the single best decision he’s ever made.

“I’m happy for you,” I said, “But you could have written me or something.”

John eyes widened and his expression turned irritated, “I did El, I wrote all the time and sent pictures!”

I stared at him in disbelief and shook my head, “I never got any letter John.”

He told me he sent them to my alias I use for mail, he said the last one he sent was a few months ago and if I went to the post office they would have all of them. He even checked they were being sent.

“Did you spell it right?” I blurted when he finished.

“Aurelia Montrose, O r r e l i a M o n t r o z e,” he sounded it out- completely wrong.

I groaned with a roll of my eyes, “You are a dickhead! You spelt it wrong!” I yelled louder than I had intended and my voice echoed a little. I got up on my knees and wacked him over the head in frustration, swatting my hands against his shoulders and chest.

“I lost the bit of paper you wrote it on, so I guessed! Fuckin’ stop it, you hit too hard!” John screeched, half giggling like a little boy.

“It’s not funny, John Marston. I didn’t hear from you for nearly five years, I thought you were dead until I started seeing bounty posters,” I grumbled and sat back down with the biggest scowl on my face. What an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “They’d still have them though…”

I pursed my lips, watching guilt fill his eyes, he looked at me apologetically and something within me softened. “I suppose I have a lot of reading to do.”

John nodded and we heard the clomping of hooves approaching us from the path leading into the campsite, John stood up and gripped his shot gun instinctively. A small voice piped up in greeting.

“We’re home, dad!”

Notes:

Hey thanks for reading, comments and kudos so appreciated. Update next week :)