NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY: RDR2

46. ALL THERE WAS

I frowned up at him, before carefully unrolling the leather and shaking it out. A coat, a fine leather coat, with a fur lining. Dyed the warmest shade of brown, intricate handsewn hems. I blinked at it, at a complete loss for words.

"Well, like it or not?" he asked, perching back down on the log opposite the fire. I let my mouth hang wide open, unable to tear my eyes away from it.

"You made this...for me?"

"I heard you moanin' about your jacket, and I didn't want you spendin' cash on that shit the tailor will try and sell. If you want it done right, you come to me." He said, smiling proudly as I continued to gawk at his handiwork.

"Thank you." I said, knowing it wasn't enough.

"You're welcome, Nora."

Arthur loaded Cripps and Rooster into the back of the wagon, he had laid out a sheet of fabric over Grogan's too heavy to move body, and he had gotten Aine attached with the harness. I sat, dissociative and faded, as he scrambled around the camp.

It was my fault, whoever had done this had done it to me. Because of me. They had sent a message, they had wanted to hurt me, and they had succeeded. Cripps had been caught in the crossfire. 

Arthur helped me dig their graves, up on the mountain that seemed to now hold the majority of the people I had ever loved and cared for. I buried him next to my father in a gesture in recognition of the care that he had shown me during our time together. But it was selfish really. I put him there because it made me feel better, he didn't care. How could he? He was dead.

"Darlin', let me do this." Arthur said, his warm hand holding my own as I looked into the back of the wagon at the headless body of my companion. I was out of vomit, out of tears, out of wails. Only exhaustion and misery remained. I nodded, stepping back to let him do the carrying, barely having enough resolve to hold myself, let alone Cripps' head.

He placed them in their graves, side by side as they had been since the day Cripps' had brought Rooster back to camp. I placed a packet of cigarettes and the half bottle of whiskey I'd had in my bag with Cripps, and covered him with earth. Arthur knelt beside me all night, arms in the thick soil, shifting and digging. We didn't speak as we settled the dirt back into the graves, I couldn't speak. What was there left to say? The damage had already been done.

When it was done, I sat before the fresh graves of my found family and let out whatever reserves of water I had stored in wracking sobs. Arthur pulled me close towards him, resting my head against his chest as he planted soft kisses in my hair. I held onto him for dear life, worried that I was about to break apart into tiny fragments.

"We'll find who did it, I swear." He whispered, and I hoped he was right. I hoped that soon this unbearable grief would turn into rage, that I would take after Sadie and burn down the world that had caused such suffering.

But I knew, deep down, I'd only have myself to blame.

We had just moved to the outskirts of Valentine, the mud was thick and soggy, but the opportunities for contacts were endless. Cripps had been heading out into town most evenings, scouting for buyers... amongst other things. I didn't mind so much; it gave me an opportunity to rest. I'd been out on bounty missions with every free moment recently, it had been a long time since I'd relaxed.

"So, I was in the Saloon the other day, and this tall fella comes up to me and says he knows me." Cripps said, stirring the pelts in the barrel before him. "I says to him that he got the wrong person, I got a familiar face. But he's adamant. Turns out we used to run together, back in the day."