The Sins and Virtues of Gunslinging and Love

Cold Evenings and Warm Dreams

The cot you lay in is cold, the same as everything else in this sorry excuse for a shelter. The decrepit windows and poorly built cabin walls let in frosty mountain air. The room fills with sniffles and chattering teeth. Although Colter has brought the gang a place to stay, it's far from comfortable. Most of the women and a few of the men take refuge in corners of the room, away from the drifty glass panes.

It's been a few days since you arrived here. Most people had settled themselves in as well as possible Abigail and Jack sit with John as he lays in a cot across the room from you, mangled from a wolf attack. Reverend Swanson preached something to the few people willing to listen. Usually, you'd enjoy listening to the conversations happening throughout the room but it's virtually impossible due to your morphine-induced delirium. Reverend had injected both you and John to help ease your pain, and boy was it strong. You wouldn't have needed the drug if it hadn't taken three people and a hunting knife to remove the bullet lodged in your femur.

Your eyelids feel heavy as your pain begins to subside, temporarily. Whether it was drug-induced drowsiness, the relaxing crackle from the fireplace, or a bit of both, it creeps up on you quicker and quicker. Just before your fatigue takes over, a fresh gust of cold air rolls through the room causing its inhabitants to groan. Opening your eyes to locate the disturbance's source, you find it instantly. A familiar but unique blue coat greets your eyes as they slide open. Your gaze settles on his wind-bitten face, his cheekbones and nose tinged pink from the cold. Arthur Morgan. Looking up from your cot next to the door, you offer him a derpy smirk and he shakes his head as he speaks, "I s'pose Revends' got you drugged up too, huh?" He gives a quiet snicker as you continue to look at him with a dazed expression. "Get some rest. I'm glad yer alright," he drawls out while his hand pats your shoulder a moment. Adjusting his coat, he saunters over to the other side of the room to torment John.

Subdued by your weary state, you barely even register Arthur left the room. The door closed with a dull thud against the old, rotting wood. The insistent murmurs from the small group of women by the fire start to fall into silence. A black haze washes over like a wave. A golden hue paints itself across your vision. Daylilies blossom from the blanket of grass growing over rolling hills. Atop these hills, a cowboy rides leisurely. His hat tips over his eyes, a brown rope tied about. His wisps of golden brown hair whirl in the wind from underneath the leather head covering. He turns your way and his eyes trace down your body and back up, meeting your gaze. His smile is contagious as your feet carry you toward him. A lily appears in his hand which he holds out to you. His eyes sparkle as you reach out to retrieve the petalled plant. When your fingers make contact with the green stem, the petals begin to drop to the ground. Confused, you look up to Arthur who has now vanished. Suddenly the landscape is gone and your vision is once again dark.

"Y/n? Y/n?" A voice repeats your name. No one appears as you look around frantically in this dark cavern. "Y/n!" The voice yells. You jump and your eyes fly open. Abigail's concerned face meets yours. 

"Christ, ya scared me," she tells you in a concerned but sweet voice, her accent much stronger than usual.

"Sorry... Sorry," you repeat while sitting up. "I was just," you think for a moment. "In another world," you finish.

"Well, you best get back to our world, and quickly too. We're packing our things right now," Abigail states matter-of-factly.

"Already? How long did I sleep for," you asked confused.

"You 'been sleepin' for a whole day now. Figured you'd wake up sooner," Abigail says as she leaves the cabin carrying a few odds and ends.

Between the dream you had and the lengthy sleep, you're sufficiently disoriented. That dream just felt so real... but I don't feel that way about Arthur... do I? Ugh. I don't want to think about this right now. Luckily, you're interrupted by your thoughts by Javier coming to carry you to the wagon. And he's followed by Arthur, great. You'd usually feel very comfortable around Arthur. He was practically your family. It just felt so wrong this time.

After about a day's long journey, the gang finally made it to Horseshoe Overlook. Since you'd been with the gang for long, you got the luxury of personal space; a low standard, but most people in the gang slept in shared tents. The view from your canvas tent was beautiful. You hadn't even set up the tent yourself. Arthur did. Despite the tattered and dirty appearance of the canvas sheet, it looked nice where it was. Underneath the large oak tree, sitting on a small bench next to your living quarters, you could see over the small cliff edge the camp was on. The sun was setting now, casting hues of orange and yellow. Your focus on the beautiful painting of the sky kept you from hearing the approaching footsteps.

"How ya like it?" Arthur's gruff voice startled you. Jumping embarrassingly hard, you turned to face him.

"It's a good spot, thank you," you give him a closed-mouth smile, wincing slightly as you adjust your leg. Arthur notices your discomfort and frowns.

"Sorry," He sighs, sounding a little guilty. Sorry?

"Sorry? For what," you inquire, genuinely confused. He rubs the back of his neck before answering.

"That I wasn't there," he said as he sat down next to you on the bench. Oh, that's what this is about. You knew he cared and worried about you but what you didn't know is that he beat himself up about it.

"It's okay Arthur, really," you say genuinely, "It's not the first time I've been shot, and I lived," you joked, laughing a little bit. Clearly, he did not find it humorous. He sighed again, nodding his head and staring at his feet.

"I'm just glad you're safe," he admits.

"Guess I got lucky, Jenny and Davey not so much," your timbre is more somber now. "Gonna miss 'em... a lot." You frown deeply at the thought.

"Yeah, good people," he responds. You both sit in silence, enjoying each other's company. He gets up first and breaks the silence.

"It's late, I should probably sleep, you too. Gotta rest up for that leg o' yers," he says, gesturing to your now bandaged leg, covered with a skirt. Usually, you preferred pants, but that proved to be very painful when you attempted to put them on. "Need any help?" Arthur's concern for you made something inside you flutter, but you quickly shook it away.

"Nah, I got it," you respond. Arthur walks over to his tent, which you now notice seems oddly close to yours. Did he do that purpose? You shake your head slightly and roll your eyes. Stop thinking like that! What's wrong with you? You don't feel that way, you think to yourself.

Hobbling on the wooden crutch the gang had conveniently stored in the medical supplies, you made your way back to your tent. You sat down on your cot and let yourself fall back onto the flat, sorry excuse for a mattress. Desperate for sleep, your eyes began to droop.

Although your entire body begged for rest, your mind couldn't seem to settle. You couldn't help but notice you kept drifting to the same thing over and over. What are you gonna do tomorrow? The way he walks with a gun belt on his hips. The gang's next big score? His green-blue eyes. How much of my stuff got left in Blackwater? How he cares for you, even when you're not injured.

Fuck, this is going to be a sleepless night.

Thanks for reading! Comments and Critiques are appreciated! <3

(P.S. Cross-posted on Ao3)

-jxkstories