Bad Beginnings (A RDR2 Fanfic)

Illiteracy

Armadillo was a sad town. Everyone seemed to be sick, and everyone was so depressed that there were fights in the bar and tears at the doctor's.

The bank at Aurora Ridge had a lot of money in it, so they came up with a system for dividing the money. One half would go to the whole three of them for food, ammunition, and medicine. Then, the remaining half, would be divided by the three of them.

The bank had held a whopping $6,000, so Arthur felt quite nice, having a nice $1000 in his hands to do what he pleased. Their method to splitting money was that half would go to the entire group, while the other half would be split among those who did the job.

It was a hot morning. It was always hot in the desert. However, to Arthur, he'd rather be hot than cold, especially when it's supposed to be winter. He always felt more free when he didn't have to wear a coat.

"Arthur, we're going to the store," Hosea said to him out of nowhere, startling the boy out of a cactus drawing. "Let's go."

"That's one hell of a way to say hello, Mr. Matthews," Arthur replied, closing his journal and following Hosea to the horses.

Hosea laughed. "Let's just get going."

They rode the short ride to town. It was blistering hot out, so they were sweaty by the time they got over there. The horses were even more tired. Hosea passed Arthur their shopping list that Dutch had written.

"Tell me what we need, Arthur," Hosea said, hitching his horse and running a hand through his sweaty hair.

Arthur hitched Beatrice next to Hosea's and gave her some water before he said anything. "Um..." He squinted at the writing, trying to make any sense of it. "I-I don't know." The strange symbols didn't seem to make any sense. Who the hell came up with this nonsense?

"Very funny," Hosea laughed. "You can't tell me Dutch's handwriting is that bad." If Dutch had bad handwriting, Arthur couldn't tell.

"Well, um..." Arthur's nerves were on fire. Hosea would be pissed for sure. Arthur was keeping secrets about his lack of being able to read. Keeping secrets? He would never. "I-I can't read, Mr. Matthews, sir." It was the best to come clean.

Hosea sighed, taking back the list. Arthur couldn't tell if he was angry, or just tired. "We'll talk about this later. Let's go."

The store was uncomfortable and the ride back to camp was even more uncomfortable. Arthur didn't think that Hosea was mad, maybe disappointed. Dutch, on the other hand... Arthur had no clue what that man would do.

They finally pulled up. "Welcome back!" Dutch greeted them, standing from his maroon blanket on the ground. Dutch hated to get his clothes sandy.

Arthur hung his head as he dismounted, already embarrassed. Hosea was going to make such a big damn deal out of this.

"Guess what I learned today, Dutch!" Hosea said, steering Arthur over by the collar of the boy's shirt. Arthur could feel his face heating up, and he managed to shuffle and trip over his own feet, even though he was looking right at them. "Turns out little old Arthur here, can't read!"

Dutch didn't look entirely shocked. "I guess we're teaching him how to read then, Mr. Matthews," Dutch replied calmly. Arthur realized that he should be more afraid of Hosea than Dutch. However, he considered himself lucky that he wasn't on both men's bad sides.

Hosea sighed. "Fine. Fine! Have fun with that, Dutch, because this boy's as dull as rusted iron!" Hosea said. Then he laughed. "Yes, good luck." Hosea released Arthur's shirt with a shove, causing him to stumble.

Dutch sighed, rubbing his temples. Arthur went and sat down next to him. "I'm sorry," Arthur said quietly.

"What for?" Dutch asked, closing his book and placing it behind him.

"That I'm... stupid, and don't know how to read," Arthur admitted with a sigh.

"You're not stupid," Dutch replied, patting Arthur roughly on the back. "You're still plenty good at stuff, even if you can't read. I'm still proud of your work in Aurora Ridge, son."

"Thanks, Mr. Van der Linde," Arthur replied. Hosea still hadn't thanked Arthur for saving his sorry ass.

Dutch laughed suddenly. "I swear, we're never going to break that habit," Dutch said. "You're making me feel like an old man."

Arthur laughed. "Maybe, Dutch, you are an old man." Arthur knew that Dutch wasn't old, the guy was around 25 for Christ's sake, but he had to play along.

Dutch scoffed, clutching his chest and knocking into Arthur with his shoulder. "You take that back!"

Arthur laughed. "I ain't gonna take back the truth, sir."

Dutch laughed as well. "You're a goofy kid, Mr. Morgan," he said. "Tomorrow, you're gonna start learning how to read. You'll be even more useful than you already are!"

"Sure, Dutch."