Bad Beginnings (A RDR2 Fanfic)

Careful Morgan

(A/N: I'm sorry that this took so long! Thanks for being patient ❤️).

At 2:00, Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea rode their horses the few miles from town to the Morgan house.

Arthur was still surprised at how short the ride actually was. Walking definitely made it seem like a long journey.

Arthur didn't know what he was expecting when they got there. The wooden house was still standing but the grass around it was getting long, and the windows were dark. No one had moved in.

They dismounted, then headed inside. Immediately, Arthur's breath caught in his throat. It was exactly how he remembered.

They started searching for things they could salvage and take with them. Even though the memories in this house weren't amazing, Arthur couldn't help but be a little sad.

While he was checking the living room shelves, he came across the spot Copper would sit at to warm up by the fire. He had to walk away and enter his old bedroom. He could hear Dutch moving around the kitchen and Hosea moving around his father's old bedroom, as Arthur searched his own room.

So many bad things happened here, yet it was one of Arthur's safest spaces. He gathered some of the blankets off his bed and was searching the chest at the end of the bed, when Dutch walked in.

Arthur tensed up as he heard the sound of boots against the wooden floor. It was a natural response, from years of fear. This exact position had happened before, however the man wearing the boots, this time, was Dutch. Arthur released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Hello, Mr. Van der Linde," Arthur greeted him, before grabbing a picture of Copper that was laying at the bottom, shutting the chest.

"How are you doing, son?" Dutch asked Arthur as the boy was standing, putting the photo into his pocket, and dusting off his jeans.

"I-I'm doing just fine, sir," Arthur replied, with a bit of hesitation. It hurt to be back here, even knowing that nothing could hurt him. He was even about to hurt everyone in this town come tomorrow.

"You're still a terrible liar, Mr. Morgan," Dutch replied, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I... I can't tell you."

"Why?"

Arthur was at a loss for words. Why? Why couldn't he tell Dutch what happened here?

"I don't know how...," Arthur paused. "And I think I'm a little bit afraid of what you'd say." He could faintly hear Hosea moving around in the next room over. Dutch's eyes were difficult to read, but they looked curious and sad. Arthur decided to look down at his boots.

"There is nothing to be afraid of, Arthur. Hosea and I care deeply about you."

Dutch's hand on Arthur's shoulder felt like the weight of the world was about to break his spine. When Arthur looked up from the dark floor, Dutch's eyes seemed like they would swallow him whole.

Before he could say something absolutely stupid, he shrugged off Dutch's hand. He silently picked up the blankets and his satchel, and left wordlessly, leaving Dutch in the darkening room.

He went into his father's bedroom to see if there was anything Hosea missed. There was one thing. A dark hat laying on the bed.

Arthur picked it up and placed it on his head. It was his father's, and now, peering into a mirror, Arthur decided it would now become his. It was black, with a piece of rope wrapping around it a couple of times, ending in a knot at the back. A clean bullet hole went through one side and came out the other.

Arthur also managed to find a picture of his father, a mugshot, but still something, and a photo of his mother. Before Arthur acted even more foolish, these photos went into his satchel as well.

Arthur left the room as Hosea was saying, "I think that's all there is to get. I suggest we head out so we don't come across anything on the way back down."

Arthur and Dutch agreed, but, of course, Arthur had to take a piss first, before they headed out. Hosea and Dutch shared a sigh as Arthur ran into the trees, with Hosea yelling, "Be quick! Don't let a bear eat you!" Dutch let out one of his booming laughs at this.

Arthur was finishing up and zipping up his jeans when he heard the small crunching of leaves and a yowl behind him.

Arthur barely had time to mutter: "...son of a bitch..." before he was grabbed by the foot by some sharp teeth, and yanked to the hard ground.

He cried out, it hurt real bad. He then realized that he wasn't alone. Dutch and Hosea were only 50 yards away.

"Dutch! Hosea!" Arthur yelled out, kicking the cougar with his free foot while getting a grip on his gun. "Help!"

As he heard Dutch and Hosea running for him the cougar tightened its grip and started dragging Arthur along the pine needle covered ground.

Out of fear and the sharp burning pain, Arthur let out a blood curdling scream. A bang rang out, startling the remaining birds from their trees, and the cougar laid dead.

Dutch quickly pried the cougar's jaws off of Arthur's leg, then him and Hosea lifted the boy's arms over their shoulders and helped him hobble over to his horse.

Arthur hissed in pain as Dutch lifted the smaller onto Beatrice. Hosea ripped some fabric off a blanket to wrap around Arthur's bloody ankle.

"What the hell happened?" Dutch asked, seeming angry, as Hosea tightly wrapped the wound.

"The cougar, it just pounced on me, sir," Arthur replied. "I didn't have time to defend myself."

"That should be okay," Hosea said, tying off the bandage.

"Thank you, Mr. Matthews," Arthur replied, swinging his leg over his horse.

Dutch sighed. "You need to be careful, Mr. Morgan. You could have died." He mounted The Count and got going at a trot.

"Yessir," Arthur sighed in reply, him and Hosea following closely behind.

They decided to still hit the bank. Arthur was just going to have to push through.