Caught | Arthur Morgan × Reader

XI

By the time you had gotten up and out of bed, Arthur was already out of camp. Though it was beyond you as to why, being as hungover as he should be.

You were sure that hangover would be enough to keep him out of the game for a while, but he wasn't so inclined to let up.

It was a good reason for you to make a quick trip to Valentine. You felt so close to winning this.

Being determined to win was an understatement. You had had enough of all his shit, and you wanted him silenced. If he was a man of his word, of course.

As you scoped out the exterior of the doctor's place, you hitched your horse, walking discreetly to the back.

While you made your way to the back, you thought on how you were to go about this. The sheriff's place was a neighbor. A very close neighbor at that.

Guns would make a lot of noise, and you'd be likely caught if you weren't careful or quick.

Though the consequences of it was dwarfed in comparison to the aspect of winning. Seeing the look on that man's face. It'd be worth the jail time, and he'd probably leave you in there.

The back had a small jutting out building, which you strode around as inconspicuous as possible.

There was a large metal door, one with a slit at the top. You were tempted to knock, but whether you'd be met by a gun or not, you couldn't tell.

The sheriffs place right behind you both gave you confidence to knock, and the dread that they were so close.

Raising your hand to knock, a figure from the corner of your eye slips around the behind of the building you had just come from, grabbing you so fast it was as if to stop you from setting off a bomb.

Their hand situated over your mouth, and your arms held tight, you struggled greatly in their grasp.

"Quit it." An all too familiar voice. What the hell was he doing? "And hold still."

You relaxed in his grip, turning your head to look back at him. He still held you tight from behind as you met your eye with his.

You gave him your most unenthusiastic look of shock and fear. "Please, oh please, let me go, sir."

He held you back, his hand still slightly over your mouth as he hid you behind the wall where the door wasn't facing.

"Shut up." He growls, finally letting you go with a stumble. "If you had knocked, they'd for sure catch on."

"Have you already knocked then?" You tried your best to stay calm, infuriated that he got here before you.

"Yes? Why is your ass here?"

"I got lost." Fighting with him was now unintentionally your focus, and you hated how he took it.

He sighs deeply, closing his eyes in defeat for a second as he brushes hair back from under his hat. "I was here first."

"I should've been. You're supposed to be hungover?"

"I am." He grumbles, holding his head as he impatiently speaks to you.

"Do us both a favor, and go back to camp. Rest your head."

"No?" A disbelieving scoff blew out of him. He got closer to you on the wall, standing over you with harsh eye contact. "You might as well get back to camp. Wait for me so I can tell you what you're gonna get to do for me."

You should've left his ass for the sheriff to take in, shaking your head with regret. "You would've been behind bars if not for me."

He gives you a weird look, one of confusion. One that certainly prompted some reflection on the night before. "That's your mistake then."