If you've followed me for a short while, you will know that I am a huge Mary Linton defender/Marthur truther and I finally got to draw them after so longggg! You know a hetero ship is good when it makes you as heartbroken and devastated as queer ships T_T
â Relationship: Mary Gillis/Arthur Morgan, Annabelle/Dutch van der Linde, Bessie Matthews/Hosea Matthews
â Rating: Mature
â Word count: ~58,000 (so far) â Chapters: 13/?
â Summary: As the summer of 1885 breathes its last, oppressive breath, the Van der Linde Gang sets up camp outside a thriving rail town, seeking out new scores before they inevitably move on. When Arthur Morgan is discovered scouting a job by the local mill owner's daughter, Mary Gillis, his world is transformedâin the midst of escalating violence and risk as the gang moves from petty schemes to more brazen endeavors, he finds himself falling in love with her. In the years that follow their fateful meeting, both Arthur and Mary are forced to reckon with loss, loyalty, the vast difference in the worlds theyâve known, and whether love alone can be enough to overcome the many forces pulling their lives in opposite directions.
â Tags: Pre-Canon, First Meetings, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Sexism, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst and Romance, Complicated Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Grief/Mourning, POV Alternating, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Smut
â A/N: I haven't been posting any updates for this work on tumblr, but I figured it was about time I finally did! This pre-canon fic primarily follows Arthur and Mary, but against the backdrop of many thingsâAnnabelle and Dutch's relationship as well as Bessie and Hosea's, how the gang becomes involved with the O'Driscoll brothers, the aftermath of Mary's motherâs death and her father's slow descent into addiction to cope with itâand all of it set during the long period of prohibition in the state of Kansas as the era of the cattle drives is coming to an end. It updates with a new chapter weekly-ish! I've included a snippet of Chapter 1 below. Dividers are by @/saradika-graphics.
LATE SUMMER, 1885.
Arthur watched his two mentors wordlessly shovel food into their mouths, both of them deep in thought. As he hunted in his bowl for a carrot or potato to give his teeth a break from the gristly, salt-soaked bits of meat in the meager stew, he became lost in his own aimless ruminations. Mostly about the invisible grip of the dense, humid air swathing him in a damp discomfort.
And the noise.
From somewhere outside the flickering glow of the fire, a mighty chorus of cicadas hummed and pulsed while he, Dutch, and Hosea silently dined. The only sound that broke through the din of the insectsâ swelling drone was the occasional chirping cadence of a katydid, not so much an interruption as a melody floating on top of the chorale. Arthur knew the sonorous hymn would fade as the curtain of night swallowed the last of the daylight, but the persistence of the refrain was astonishing.
What was removed from their company occupied his reflections as much as the unrelenting moisture and the resonant buzzing that surrounded them at the campfire: off on the other side of camp, Miss Grimshaw was eating alone, often preferring to take meals in her own company when Bessie and Annabelle werenât around. He'd never quite gotten his head around it.
Given her past involvement with Dutch, he wouldâve thought watching Annabelle playfully sitting in Dutchâs lap, tucking his long, dark locks behind his ears, smoothing the hair of his thick brows with her thumb, and affectionately spinning the rings on his fingers would be torture for Grimshaw. Instead, the presence of the other two women always seemed comforting to herâby all appearances, she was equally fond of them both and untroubled by the complicated history.Â
Confounding as it was, there was little Arthur could claim to understand about women.
âWhat about the mill?â Hosea suggested, his words rupturing the spell of the cicadasâ song as he brought a spoonful of stew to his mouth.
âWhat about it?â Always the fastest eater of the bunch, Arthur had already finished his food and was pulling a cigarette out of the slightly soggy box in his pocketâit was suffering as much as he was in the humidity.
With his spoon hovering halfway between his bowl and his lips, Dutch laughed deeply. âWhat do you mean âwhat about itâ?!â
Arthur wasn't sure if it was affectionate or an unspoken joke at his expense.
âWe all saw the wagonloads of flour they delivered to the station when we rode through," Dutch continued, through the bite in his mouth. "It has to be one of the biggest operations in town, and thus one of the biggest opportunities for us.âÂ
Theyâd just arrived and set up their temporary home that afternoon. It was a fairly decent spot, all things consideredâa handful of burr oak and silver maple trees surrounded the camp, helping the space feel at least somewhat nestled in the wilderness in addition to being adequately private. Miss Grimshaw had been the one to find the level, protected ground in the shadow of a small limestone bluff a ways outside the nearest city, Massey, Kansas.
After traveling west from Chicago, theyâd ended up in the ostensible breadbasket of the country, and while Arthur was relieved to be away from the hectic, fetid claustrophobia of the city, he found himself instead feeling exposed in the vast, flat landscape in which theyâd pitched their tents, for now. Theyâd made it as far as Dodge City, but soon realized that a town saturated with outlaws and with a reputation for violence and mayhem was not the most strategic location to look for any significant scores. So, they headed southeast along the Arkansas River to seek out some place rather more civilized.
âI chatted up some locals outside the drug store, and they say thereâs a single ownerâGillis, I think his name is,â Hosea explained, scraping his bowl for the last few morsels of his dinner. âOwns the land, built the mill, acts as administrator. Sounds like heâs quite the local figure, not just in the city, but the county, as well. The operation being consolidated like that makes it an easier mark. Fewer moving parts.â
âBut what do any of us know about millinâ flour, orâŚhow much money theyâre even makinâ there?â Drawing in a mouthful of dry, bitter smoke from his cigarette, Arthur savored the sweet, earthy taste of the tobacco on his lips.Â
âWell, thatâs where you come in, son. Weâll have you go scout the place." Dutch leaned over and clapped him heartily on the back. "First thing tomorrow, I want you to ride over there and see what you can overhear, and, if possible, try to find where they keep the moneyâwhether thereâs a safe inside the mill, or if there are any points of vulnerability when the funds are transported.â
âAlright.â He appreciated Dutch's trust, but Arthur privately bemoaned the early morning that awaited him as he flicked his cigarette into the fire. âIâll tryta leave before the sunâs up.â
Finished with his meal, Hosea turned at his waist to set the metal bowl on the log next to him, and the light of the fire caught the gray that had begun to streak his straw-colored hair. âAnd Iâll head back into town tomorrow, see if I can glean anything useful from folks at the station.â
âWhenâre Annabelle and Bessie cominâ back from Dodge City?â Arthur asked. He always missed the liveliness the two women brought to the camp.Â
âMight be another couple days.â Dutch sighed with a marked unease. âThey were working over some wealthy widower whoâd taken up a room at the Dodge House Hotel. Seems he was dead set on gambling himself into self-destruction, and the poor lonely fool was particularly vulnerable to the suggestions of, wellâŚbeautiful women.â
âTheyâll manage themselves just fine, Dutch,â Hosea reassured his dear friend. âThey always do.â
âArthur! Come help me get this mess from dinner cleaned up!â Miss Grimshaw yelled from the other side of camp.Â
Despite himself, Arthur groaned at the request. Doing the dishes felt like womanâs work and a backslide into boyhood, just as Dutch and Hosea were finally treating him more like the man his 22 yearsâand proven capabilitiesâcalled for.Â
âCanât John do it?!â he hollered back.
âJohn is studying his letters tonight, and we should leave him to it lest the passion for education leave him once again.â Careful not to admonish Arthur, Dutch was still keen to remind him of his responsibilities.
In Arthurâs estimation, Dutch and Hosea had been more patient with John than that rowdy heel deserved. However, he tried his best to remember the timeânot all that long agoâthat heâd been a boy pulled off the streets and thrust into the embrace of a new kind of family. With at least enough sense to recognize heâd been no eager student at first, either, Arthur knew John would grow up sooner or later.
âFine,â he yielded, begrudgingly gathering up the other menâs empty bowls, and trudged over to the water basin to help Grimshaw do the washing.
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