「 ✦ ENIGMA ✦ 」ARTHUR MORGAN X READER

002.

the words hung heavier than they should have, the rest of the conversation long gone, but that sentence clung somewhere deep in your soul. you swallowed, nodding. thoughts raked your mind, you couldn't seem to ever quite pin down what he was getting at. he reminded you of a chameleon — constantly shifting and changing. it was hard not to end up with a freight train running through the middle of your skull. with him around, you found yourself getting lost.

he hopped into his saddle, begrudgingly outstretching a dirt stained hand to help you follow suit. you took it, savoring the brief warmth, you climbed up behind him. your fingers hesitantly curled around the edge of the leather, holding on as his horse began her steady gait.

you hadn't a clue how you would survive the new chapter of your life you had started. the most bewildering of all — you weren't so concerned with the risks you had taken when you took up the full-fledged death sentence of joining the dangerous crew. instead, your brain scavenged for scraps. you were thinking of ways you could pry any sort of information from the outlaw's rough grip. what secrets hung loose in his grip.

the ride back proved long, the sound of cicadas buzzing keeping you down on earth. you kept your grip on the saddle light, not wanting to be the victim of embarrassing yourself if you were holding on for dear life. the land rolled out before you in endless shades of green and yellow, and each step of the horses hooves brought you closer to camp.

arthur didn't say much. he never did. every now and then, his head would tilt and his trained gaze would scan the tree line. the ride was silent, saved for the occasional quiet hum deep from his chest. you couldn't exactly tell if it was a tune or just the noise of a man deep in his thoughts. either way, it was oddly comforting.

by the time the smell of campfire threaded through the air, your fingernails were worrying a seam on your blouse. arthur slowed his horse, letting her go on her own pace down the remaining steps of the trail. as you got closer, voices grew: laughter echoing through old wagons and tents, the clink of bottles, nearby birds cawing. yet, it didn't ease your nerves. it felt odd to be coming back from your first outing, arriving to a place not yet familiar enough to be home.

arthur swung down with the ease of habit, hitching his horses reins. he offered his hand to you again. dirt-stained, steady. you took it without thought, politely smiling as your legs buzzed from the ride.

dutch's eyes lingered on your form as you stepped towards the fire, arthur not far behind you. he looked as if he could see every secret sprawled in your journal. he had a small smile on his lips, it was pleasant, but it stretched a touch too wide.

"well?" dutch's voice rolled smooth as bourbon, low and coaxing. "what did our fine friends say down at the bank?"

you held the journal tighter, it's leather edges biting into your arm. "the clerk told me how the ledgers are handled. at the end of every day, they're locked in the strongbox. the vault is locked nightly, too. only the manager and the clerk got the keys."

dutch's eyes lit up like you told him the directions to a recipe he already knew. "see, arthur?" ash from his cigar hit the dirt, gesturing it towards you. "sharp this one. sweet face, quick wit, and a knack for asking the right questions. a rare combination, hm?"

arthur grunted something similar to an agreement, though it was more sound than word. his gaze was unwavering on dutch.

you shifted under the heaviness of their attention. "i don't know how helpful the information is—"