WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. XXV

Nothing you'd ever done in your life had felt quite as wrong as pointing a rifle to the back of Arthur's head. The moment you'd stepped outside, you knew you were doomed: the house was surrounded by lawmen, and there was no way to move, much less escape.

"Good evening, gentlemen." You urged Arthur forward by positioning the barrel of your rifle between his shoulder blades and pushing lightly. "You're looking for this fine criminal, I would assume?"

One of the men, with a weathered face and skin that looked like it had swallowed millions of small bullets stepped forward, brows furrowed and chin raised as he inspected Arthur.

"Him and you both, miss (l/n)." He explained, voice like a foghorn as he spoke. The man tipped his hat at you, though the gesture seemed more intimidating than polite."Agent Milton, Pinkerton agency."

Oh, Christ.

"As much as I appreciate the Pinkertons showing up at my ranch in the middle of the night, I had this under control." You nodded at Arthur's restraints. "See for yourself."

A pause followed, in which the agent's eyes scanned Arthur with disgust and superiority. Good lord, how you itched to shoot that expression off his face.

"So much in control that you have also nursed his wounds, it seems." Agent Milton retorted with a sly smirk.

"Well, the law wants him alive, as far as I know." You had to refrain from cupping Arthur's face and apologizing time and time again when you forced the stock of your rifle against the back of his head, not enough to cause a serious injury, but enough to let him know he should drop to his knees. You could not afford letting the act seem less believable than it already was. "And my aunt is very sick, so I could not afford not checking up on her. I ain't about to risk losing my money because this damn bastard bleeds out. That's why I decided I should tie him up, take care of his wounds, then turn him in in the morning. Didn't know the law was in such a hurry to get their hands on Arthur Morgan."

"Shouldn't come as a surprise, seeing as you were quite eager to get your hands on mister Morgan as well." Agent Milton grinned. "Three men who were keeping him prisoner have been shot near Valentine. Rumor has it you were the one behind the trigger, miss (l/n)."

Damnit. You needed to come up with something, and fast.

"Of course I was." You confirmed, simultaneously trying to hide the subtle tremor in your hands the best you could. "They were O'Driscolls, after all. If I'd had let the situation escalate any further, they'd killed him, and I'd been left without any bounty to cash in."

He stared at you, but it was clear he did not believe a word.

"Very well, then. Thank you for your services, miss (l/n). Me and my men will take it from here." He looked over his shoulder, giving three of his subordinates a nod. They rushed forward, grabbing Arthur's forearms and dragging him to his feet. The third went behind him, checking his restraints.

"The rope's been tied loosely, boss." He notified as he tightened the knot, earning a silent wince from Arthur. You had to refrain from running up to that bastard and knocking him out right then and there. How dare these idiots put their dirty hands on him—

Agent Milton said nothing, only watched you with a strange kind of disgruntlement before he scoffed and turned to walk away.

"Hey, wait!" You shouted, moving to grasp the agent's shoulder. You found three guns pointed at you before you could even graze the material of his coat with your fingertips.

Agent Milton did, however, turn around nonetheless. His gaze looked like that of a bored adult's who stared down at some pesky, needy children that begged for attention. You hated that.

"I demand I get paid. At least fifty percent. I caught him, after all."

Roaring laughter erupted throughout the group of lawmen, with agent Milton's being the one that set the volume for everyone else's.

"Fifty percent? You, miss (l/n), have killed three men! If anything, you should be grateful for getting away without a bounty of your own."

"Forty." You insisted, and raised your rifle towards him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He warned, gesturing at his accompaniment. "For every bullet you put through me, my men will put sixteen through you."

You drew in a shaky breath. Steady, now. "Give me the damn money. I caught him."

"If anything, woman, you stole him, now lower that damn weapon before I lose my patience."

Next thing you knew, you'd been knocked out after someone rammed the grip of their gun over the back of your head.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You woke up to the wonderful, relieving feeling of a cold rag set on your forehead.

And the not-so-pleasant pounding of a headache against your skull. You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Oh, thank God! You've no idea how damn worried I've been, you—" The familiar voice of your aunt began scolding, but abruptly came to a half when she noticed your pained expression. "How is your head, you fool of a girl?"

"Just fine." You lied, sitting up and blinking to adjust to the light. You were in your room. Arthur was nowhere to be seen. Oh God, they'd taken him. They had taken Arthur, they were going to kill him, they—

"What the hell did you get into? Who— why was the law on our front porch? At damn midnight, (y/n)?" She rambled, scurrying around the room aimlessly as she looked at you. "What were you thinking? Bringing that man into our home, then putting yourself in danger, and for what exactly? An outlaw, for Christ's sake! Why didn't you tell me your damn friend was a criminal? When was I supposed to find that out?!"

"Where is Ar—"

She drew in a shocked, angry breath as she looked at you in disbelief.

"In a prison, probably, where he damn well belongs."

Your stomach dropped.

Aunt Cathy crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at you sternly. She must've noticed your terrified expression, you were sure of that. You forced yourself to sit up, slinging your legs over the side of the bed. You were stopped with a push against your shoulders before you could hope to do anything else.

"No, I am not letting you out of this damn house, even if it's the last thing I do!"

"You can go ahead and try, then." You retorted, wrapping your fingers around her wrists and forcing them away from you. Somehow, you managed to drag yourself onto your feet. "I refuse to stay here and wait for him to die, and you're not going to stop m—"

Cathy tightly grabbed both your shoulders, forcing you to face her. Tears had welled up in her eyes, though her expression was nothing short of stone-faced.

"(Y/n)." She said firmly. "Think about the farm. About me. What am I going to do if— if you die rescuing some stupid criminal?"

"I'm not dying." You swallowed down the forming knot in your throat. You weren't going to cry — not now! "Think of all the times I could have. When I hunted down that grizzly bear. All the bounties I caught before Arthur. Think about all the times I could've died but didn't. This is no different." You tried to look at her insistently, but found yourself being the one backing down under her relentless gaze. "Let me go. Please."

She sighed, her palms sliding off your shoulders, caressing your arms on their way downwards, stopping when they reached your hands. Gingerly, she brushed her thumbs over your knuckles, choking back her own tears.

"You do care about him that much."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

You nodded.