Mud and Gold [Arthur Morgan] [RDR2]

➵ chapter xviii

The next day, Arthur awoke as the first rays of sun appeared.

He laid in bed for a moment, basking in the peaceful atmosphere the camp preserved from the night before; at least, from after his rather chaotic and heart-wrenching arrival, and once all dangers had been deemed not worthy of anybody's concern. Not even Miss Grimshaw's usual hollers could be heard; everyone stayed quiet, some probably still asleep while others remained silent as the sun crawled up and over the horizon line.

With a small push, the outlaw sat up, letting out a few grunts as he felt his tired muscles protesting against his rapid movements. He ruffled his wild hair, a yawn escaping from him before he could even think of stopping it.

"Mornin', Arthur."

Hosea's gentle voice made Arthur stop his motion altogether, quickly he snapped his gaze up to meet the old man's eyes already scanning him all over. "Hosea." He acknowledged the man with a mumble, the past night's events hitting him within seconds.

"Slept well?"

"I slept better..." he grunted out, finally standing up and tossing his blanket somewhere on the bed. He took the chance to take in Hosea's state; the older cowboy had definitely had better days, but despite everything he still kept his composure quite well—Arthur admired that. "How's she?"

A smile tugged at Hosea's lips. "She ain't awake yet, but the wound's not caught an infection either—I'd say she's quite alright." At the man's reassuring words, Arthur sighed in relief; once again, it felt like a burden—a heavy one, at that—had been efficiently taken off of his shoulders.

Then, his blue eyes took quick notice of the slightly yellowed envelope Hosea held in his hands. As if on cue, said man offered the envelope to him with a small, sad smile.

"Read it." He commanded gently, as Arthur hesitantly took the object from his hand.

Inside, Arthur found a neatly written letter—written by Odin Victoriano himself; addressed to his adopted daughter.

"To my dearest (y/n),

Before I draw my last breath, I must give you one last wish for you to grant me; I know you will not fail me. You already know of my wish for you to retrieve my earnings from Ambarino... and here is my last wish: go and find your father.

Hosea Matthews is his name, although I know you have never forgotten. Perhaps you have always known I kept tabs on him ever since he stopped writing you letters, perhaps you never suspected of such a thing. One way or another, I have always had the feeling you knew far more than you have ever let on. You are smart, perhaps even more than your father, although never tell him I ever said that about him.

To find him, you must be careful—he still runs with the Van der Linde gang, whose leader now has a high price on his head, and Pinkertons are out and about, scouring every corner of this land. You have always been cautious, but you must be even more so now.

I know you will find him eventually. I can feel it in my weak bones; and once you do find him, stay with him. Take the gold, help his gang take the very last step towards freedom, and live the life you have been deprived of. You deserve to have your father back by your side, and so does he deserve to have you by his side again. It is supposed to be this way.

Find him, (y/n). And forgive him.

As for me... It's finally time for me to go reunite with my family, wherever they may be. But I am not leaving this world without thanking you, first; I thank you for bringing hope and purpose to my life, in a time when there was none of that for me. I thank you for giving me a chance to be a father again, as I thank your father for giving me this chance as well.