Mud and Gold [Arthur Morgan] [RDR2]

➵ chapter viii

"Either you tell us where the girl is, or I shoot you dead right 'ere, right now," he threatened.

Arthur remained silent, glaring at the O'Driscoll—he regretted not shooting him in the head when he had the chance.

A subtle whoosh sound cut off the silence around them. 

An arrow, appearing out of nowhere, suddenly hit the O'Driscoll—the sound of the sharp arrow hitting the man's flesh seemed to echo all around them, and was immediately followed by a piercing scream. He dropped his gun, stumbled backwards, and away from Arthur, and looked at his shoulder in horror. Blood oozed out through the bandages, not enough to kill him, but enough to make him scream bloody murder.

Arthur almost couldn't hold back his laugh; seeing the arrow stuck right where he had shot him previously, it was quite a fun sight to watch. Then, Greasy and Scarface aimed their guns everywhere, and anywhere, eyes crazily glancing between their injured friend, and the forest behind him, and the trees behind them.

"Who the hell—ARGH!" Greasy shouted, only to be soon cut off by an arrow hitting him in the leg—right in the thigh, below his gun belt. He shrieked, and held his leg, dropping his revolver in the process as well. "Goddamnit!"

Arthur took the chance granted, with the O'Driscolls too busy figuring out who shot at them to even notice him as he rolled over the dirt, and crawled to a nearby rock to shield himself from the sudden rain of arrows. Whether those were meant to hit him, or not, he didn't want to risk it, and stay right in the open.

A third arrow flew through the air, he heard the whoosh close to his position; but it missed any of them, and got stuck in the ground instead, right by Scarface's feet. At this, the man jumped, yelping, and panicked.

"Let's get the hell out of 'ere!" he shrieked, deciding to not test his luck, and remain the only one not hit with an arrow, ushering the others to follow him, and mount on their horses.

"We'll be back, Morgan!" the O'Driscoll yelled.

Arthur peeked over the rock at the man; he held his bleeding shoulder, having taken out the arrow previously, and ran to his horse. Yet another arrow crossed the meadow, and landed right behind him as he mounted on his horse, making him scream something Arthur did not understand.

The horses neighed loudly, and soon galloped away, back the way they had come. The O'Driscolls left just as quick as they had arrived.

Silence conquered the small meadow once again. Only then did Arthur fully come out of his hiding spot.

Slowly, he stood up. His eyes darted between the arrows stuck in the ground, and the forgotten revolvers from the O'Driscolls left on the dirt not far from him. He frowned, and eyed the forest across him, and the trees behind him; soon his gaze fell upon his steed trotting back to camp... with (y/n) on her back, holding a bow proudly in her hands.

Arthur stood on his spot, dumbfounded at the sight. It wasn't until (y/n) dismounted his horse, and ran up to him, that it finally dawned on him. "You... you was the one shootin' the arrows?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

At his words, (y/n) looked at him almost accusingly. "Why, Arthur Morgan, I'm more than capable of usin' a bow!" she protested, still holding his bow in her hands. She gently shoved it against his chest, and he caught it quickly. "Least you could do is thank me for savin' you!"

"You even know how to use a bow?" he questioned, still quite stunned at the sudden turn of events, and completely ignoring her last sentence.

"Wha—I'm a farm girl, not an idiot!" she huffed, folding her arms over her chest, and softly scowled at him.

Arthur stared at her, and found himself adoring this new side of hers she was showing—she could be fierce, he had to give it to her.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the scowl that formed on her face, still finding it adorable the way she got so frustrated at his questions. And, at the sound of his laugh, he watched a small, bashful smile tug at her lips.

"Did I do good?" she asked quietly, uncrossing her arms.

Arthur nodded his head, eyes darting to the bow in his hand, before he gazed up at her and smirked, "oh yeah, you did pretty good."

At his words, a proud smile formed on her face. Seeing her so proud made Arthur's insides warm up—he loved her smile.

"C'mon," he mumbled as he walked around her, towards the campfire. "Bet they won't take long to come back, might as well eat 'n' rest 'fore they do."

"'course, cowboy."

Arthur stood by the fire, and turned to glare at her jokingly. (y/n) grinned cheekily as she trotted to his side, and plopped down next to him, picking up one of the roasted pieces of game from the bowl.

Before he sat down to eat, he put his bow back in his saddlebag, dusted off his clothes, and eyed the two revolvers sitting on the dirt by the fire. Huffing quietly, he picked up both, and his own as well as he went to put them all inside the tent. Without asking for it, he had earned new guns.

Maybe I could teach her how to use one of them? He thought to himself as he turned to face (y/n) sitting by the campfire, peacefully eating. He had a feeling that she'd definitely need to learn how to use one in the future, for her sake. And for his.

Arthur sighed to himself, moving to sit next to her. He took a piece of game, and ate it eagerly. Before he could reach out for another one, he felt the blanket once again being draped over his shoulder and back, just as a shiver ran up his spine, shaking his whole being.

"You'll never learn, will ya?" she giggled, patting his back, and adjusting the warm blanket around his form.

"Probably not," he shrugged his shoulders, and chuckled. "Who taught you how to use a bow?"

She smiled sadly. "My pa did, told me I had to learn how to hunt, so he taught me," she shrugged her shoulders, and looked up at him. A small frown formed on her face then. "How's your head?" she asked, worry lacing her voice.

"Jus' fine," Arthur glanced at her, just in time to see her reaching one of her hands up to softly touch the side of his head. Her fingertips touched the spot where Greasy had hit him with the gun, and he winced, earning a quick and quiet sorry from (y/n). When she retrieved her hand, he saw a little blood staining her fingers.

"Wound's small, but you should clean it," she mumbled.

He hummed in response. "Maybe later," he mumbled, nodding his head. She didn't say anything, and cleaned her blood-stained fingertips with a small handkerchief she took from her pocket.

They ate in silence after that, simply enjoying the peaceful aura that had taken over the meadow after the O'Driscolls left. Neither of them had no need to talk about those men, and Arthur was grateful. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about that gang, and what they had done.

Eventually, (y/n) broke the silence, almost hesitantly. "Y'know... About the whole bow thing? I was actually aimin' for the head." 

She spoke quietly, almost as if she didn't want him to hear, but since she was sitting so close to him, he heard her—he heard her perfectly. And he couldn't help but laugh at her sudden confession, almost choked on the piece of game he had in his mouth. 

Of course, his laugh had her huffing in annoyance, and he felt her punching him in the shoulder playfully. 

"Oi! At least I made 'em leave!" she protested, though she giggled at the end.

Arthur recovered quickly, swallowed the bite, and cleared his throat. "Sorry," he chuckled, and placed his hand on the small of her back softly. He hadn't really noticed how close they actually were sitting until then, but neither of them gave off any signs of discomfort at the closeness. Arthur quite enjoyed it, in fact, as he glanced down at her cute face, and smiled. "Thank you for savin' me."