Warnings: mentions blood and violence, but nothing too major or graphic
Hey guys here’s a little oneshot for you that I started because I am currently stuck on chapter 3 of HitS. Hope you enjoy!
~~~
It was another job gone to shit, that was for sure.
It was supposed to be a simple, easy heist; one where all you had to do was stand there and chat up the guards while John and Lenny robbed the wagons outside a small mining operation just northeast of Valentine. The past several weeks had been hard on everyone, what with the sudden need to pack up and get away from the overlook camp before the law could catch on, and amid the chaos, you had managed to catch a persistent cough that was enough to exhaust you on the particularly bad days. Still, the plan that John had cooked up with you and Lenny seemed simple enough, something you could get done quickly and be back at camp in time for supper. You couldn't say no.
But Arthur could.
Before you could leave with your accomplices, Arthur had caught your arm and asked where you were headed off to.
“The boys got a plan to make a little bit of easy money,” you had said, pulling away and smiling at him. “We’ll be back tonight, it shouldn't take us that long.” Arthur didn't look convinced, casting his gaze apprehensively over towards Marston as he secured his rifle to his saddle.
“You’re sick.” Arthur met your gaze, unyielding. He wasn't going to tell you outright not to go for fear of making you feel inadequate, but a bad feeling had settled in his gut that he couldn't ignore. He brought his hands to his belt to keep from fidgeting.
You huffed out a little laugh at his frankness, and offered your hand for him to take. “We’ll be fine, Arthur. I’ll be fine,” you reassured, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “It’s just a little cold, won't hurt anything.”
Arthur sighed and took your hand between both of his own. He knew that not even he could stop you from doing something you had your mind set on, and right now your mind was set on getting more money for the gang, same as him. He couldn't fault you for that, even if he was worried. He looked down at your hand in his.
“Just… jus’ watch yourself. Lenny’s got a good head on his shoulders, but John can get… ambitious, if you let him. Tell ‘im to keep his head and follow Lenny.”
You smiled and hummed, which turned into you needing to clear your throat. It didn't help your case, but you were quick to recover. “I will, don't worry. ‘Sides, we’ll be in and out before Marston even has a chance to go astray. It’ll be fine.”
You could still see the doubt in Arthur’s eyes, like he was about to pull away. You tugged him towards you, standing on your toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, brushing your hand over his stubble and making him smile despite himself. You pulled the brim of his hat back down as you leaned away once more.
You gave Arthur one last grin over your shoulder as you turned away to meet John and Lenny. He waved, nodding to Lenny when he caught the younger man’s eye. He nodded back and gave a little salute as you climbed onto your horse.
~~~
That had been two days ago.
Now you sat in the corner of a dusty jail cell in the Valentine sheriff’s office with your knees pulled up and your arms crossed over your rattling chest, trying to keep warm. You kept your eyes down, too uneasy to try and sleep, as you listened for any movement from the lawman at the desk a couple yards away. Ever since they tossed you into your cell, you had been looking for an opportunity to get out, hoping the man with the keys would wander close enough for you to snag them, but that hadn't happened, not yet. Right now, the set of keys hung behind the desk way on the opposite side of the room, mocking you, it felt like.
You felt like a fool, sitting there without a plan, coughing into your shirt and huddling further into the corner. The stuffiness of the jail hadn't done anything to help your ailment and you feared it would only get worse if you stuck around much longer. But if anything, you could always play the ‘sick little jail bird in need of a doctor’ card, and hope it would buy you an opportunity wrestle your way out of the office and onto a getaway horse. You smirked at the idea. Hosea would love that story, you thought.
You closed your eyes and let your mind wander back to the heist, silently praying that John and Lenny had made it out alright. Everything had been going according to plan. You had caught the attention of the two men guarding the entrance of the mine shaft, asking them confusedly about how you could get to Valentine from there. Every time one of the men tried to give you directions or point you down the right road, you told them “oh, but that’s the way I came… well, I think, or… no, I came from the west, didn't I?”
You had talked them in circles for a good five minutes, all while you watched out of the corner of your eye as John and Lenny broke the locks on the wagons to steal what they could. They were just about finished when a third man came wandering out of the mine, stopping dead when he saw the two outlaws standing frozen over an opened lockbox, each holding a small stack of money. A lot happened all at once after that.
John had pulled his revolver from his belt with one hand, stuffing the money into his pocket with the other. He fired twice as Lenny ducked for cover behind the wagon. You had gone for your own gun, but one of the guards grabbed your arm, tackling you to the ground easily and kicking your pistol away. John fired off a few more rounds just as two more men came clambering out of the mine shaft, one brandishing a shotgun.
In a moment of pure instinct, you rolled to the side, catching your assailant across the jaw with your elbow and making to stand and bolt. “LENNY, JOHN, RUN!” you shouted across the clearing, trying find your gun before the guard could regain his footing.
Lenny sent up a shrill whistle for his horse, running to where he and John had hitched them. John came sprinting after him, throwing shots over his shoulder at the miners. He caught sight of you, just for a split second as you threw out your arms in a desperate signal for them to get the hell out of there. But before you could make your own break for the trees, something cold and blunt connected with the side of your head and you hit the ground hard. Blearily, you watched as two horses galloped away, sending up a cloud of dust behind them. You coughed and spat into the dirt, chest aching. The world around you spun and dimmed as you awaited death, or whatever else the men had planned for you. You blacked out before you could find out.
~~~
You brought a hand to the side of your head at the memory. There was still a bit of blood caked into your hairline and a headache that had persisted ever since you had woken up. A layer of perspiration had manifested over your forehead, despite the chill that had settled into your bones over night, and your cheeks burned. You felt like utter shit, to put it simply. You should have listened to Arthur.
From where you sat, you had no direct line of sight to a window, but across the way the deputy lit the lantern on the desk just as the shadows overcame his reading light. You really didn't want to spend another night in the jail, and you once again found yourself entertaining the thought of the keys happening by your cell.
Suddenly the front door opened, letting in the chilled evening air and making you shiver. At first you thought nothing of it, figuring it was just the sheriff coming back from his rounds, but the voice that rang through the small room was familiar. You lifted your chin wearily, trying to catch a glimpse out of the corner of your eye.
“Ah, excuse me sir, good evenin’.” It was Hosea.
“What do you want,” groaned the deputy, clearly in no mood to be dealing with the public at this hour.
“Well, I heard that there’s a young woman in your custody, and I believe her to be my niece. Ya see, she was meant to be traveling here for a visit, but I’m afraid she got a bit, ehh, confused, as I understand.” You always loved hearing the stories Hosea could spin, and if it hadn't been for your current circumstances, you would have laughed.
The deputy didn't look entirely convinced. “The folks that brought her in say she was partial to a robbery up by the mine. That sound like your niece?”
“Oh, I highly doubt that. No, she was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time, is all.” You could hear the dismissiveness Hosea was layering onto his words, easily making the whole situation seem like a misunderstanding.
The deputy grumbled and swung his legs off the desk. “Stay right here, I’ll go get the sheriff.”
“Take your time.”
Once the deputy had shut the door behind him, Hosea made a beeline to your cell, crouching down to get a better look at you.
“Hos-ea,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from the coughing. He reached through the bars and took your hand in his.
“Hey, y/n,” he said, dropping his pretense in favor of his usual fatherly tone. “Lenny said you would be here. How ya feelin’?”
You coughed into your sleeve. “Well, I’ve been better,” you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper. Hosea gave you a tight smile and patted your hand.
“Sorry we aren't doing this faster. Arthur said you'd probably be in no condition for a quick getaway. Still, the price for John and Lenny is much higher than yours. We’ll get you outta here no problem.” Hosea reached into his pocket and pulled out a small money clip. It wasn't anything substantial, but you still felt embarrassment burn through you. In trying to get more money for the gang, you had only ended up costing them. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the brick wall.
“I’m sorry, Hosea,” you sighed tiredly.
“Hey, don't worry about it, dear. This is from John and Lenny personally, not the box.” You blinked at him. You weren't sure if that made you feel better or worse.
Before you could argue, the door swung open again and the sheriff walked in, tailed by the deputy. “Your niece, huh?”
Hosea stood to meet him. “Yes, yes she is. And, as I’m sure you can see, she's not exactly fit to stay here.” He gestured towards you, and you took your cue to hack into the back of your hand, throwing in a couple of sniffles for added effect. “Let me take her home.”
The sheriff placed his hands on his hips and looked down at you, but Hosea caught his attention again by waving the money clip before him. “For your trouble.”
Sighing, the sheriff relented and went to grab the keys from the wall.
With the cell door having been opened, Hosea passed the sheriff briskly to help you to your feet, his paternal instinct nagging him to get you home. Supporting your weight, he helped you out the door and into the chilly night air.
“Come on, Arthur is just around the corner with the horses.”
“Ar-thur?” Your voice cracked, but your spirits lifted when you rounded the building with Hosea to see the man standing at the hitching post with a cigarette between his lips. Upon catching sight of you, he hastily tossed the cigarette into the mud and ground it out under the heel of his boot.
“Y/n,” he mumbled, and you couldn't miss the note of relief in his voice. He pulled you gently to him, and gave you quick squeeze around the shoulders, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re burnin’ up,” he said, pulling back, but he felt the tremor in your shoulders and noticed how you had crossed your arms immediately upon breaking the hug. He shrugged off his coat and pulled it around you as Hosea undid their horses’ reins from the post.
“I’ll be fine, Arthur,” you whispered, though you didn't refuse the warmth of the jacket.
He hummed. “That’s whatchu said the other mornin’.” You rolled your eyes, causing him to smirk. Deciding not to nag you any further, he hefted you up onto his horse before climbing up himself. With Hosea taking point, the three of you rode out of Valentine.
Settling in for the long ride back to camp, you wrapped your arms around Arthur’s midsection and rested your head against his shoulder, tucking your nose into the collar of his jacket you wore. He didn't say anything for fear of betraying how worried he had truly been. Instead, he readjusted the reins for one hand, and held yours with his other. You stayed like that the whole way home.
~~~
It was still dark when you got back to camp, past midnight you guessed, but all the lanterns still burned bright. Waiting at the tree line with rifle in hand was Lenny, who perked up when he saw Hosea riding in with Arthur behind him. When he saw you, he turned and hollered to everyone that you were back. Looking over Arthur’s shoulder, you could see several of the other gang members sitting around one of the fires. Mary-Beth and Abigail were the first to stand, with John close behind.
Coming to a halt, Arthur slid from his saddle and tied off the reins before reaching up to help you down. Your feet had barely touched the ground before the girls came hurrying up to you to help you stand. Mary-Beth brought her hand delicately to the side of your head to look at the damage at your temple, brushing some of the dried blood from your hair as she did so. “Oh, y/n,” she fretted, placing the back of her hand against your forehead and frowning.
John jogged up behind her, looking mortified. A long list of apologies began to spill from his mouth, but you raised a hand to quiet him, smiling tiredly. “Thanks for bailing me out, John.” You glanced over your shoulder. “Thank you too, Lenny. I’m sorry things didn't go the way we planned,” you sighed, bringing your hand to your chest.
Arthur let the others fuss over you for a few moments more, before steering you towards your tent. “Alright, y’all, lets give ‘er some space. Miss Gaskill, would you mind grabbin’ that cold medicine from Strauss’ wagon?” Mary-Beth nodded and hurried away. The others began to disperse with a few scattered ‘goodnights’ and some well-wishes from Lenny and John as they returned to their places.
~~~
Another half-hour or so later, you sat alone with Arthur on your cot, watching as he dipped a rag into the bowl of water Susan had brought over. He dabbed the cloth to your temple, cleaning away the rest of the grime and dried blood. You had been quiet ever since he sat you down, only breaking the silence by coughing every now and again. You gazed sleepily up into his eyes, watching his brows knit ever so slightly as he held your chin and patched you up.
“Thanks for comin’ for me,” you rasped, still tasting the cold medicine in the back of your throat. His eyes met yours as he lowered the rag back into the water. “It was all such a mess. Shoulda listened t’ you…” you trailed off.
Arthur sighed and set the bowl on the wooden crate you had fashioned into a bedside table, putting his arm around you and pulling you close. “’S alright. Wasn't your fault. Wasn't Lenny or John’s either.” You huddled closer into his side. “Jus’… promise me you won't put a job before yourself like that again, alright?”
You could feel the rise and fall of his chest matching your own hitched breathing and you closed your eyes. “I promise,” you murmured, taking his hand in yours and holding it close.
“Alright,” he breathed.
The two of you stayed like that for a while longer until you finally dropped off to sleep. He smiled fondly as you lightly snored beside him. Shifting so that you laid flat on your cot, Arthur pulled up the extra blankets Tilly had given you, and pressed one last kiss into your hair, before settling into the chair next to you and lighting a fresh cigarette.
It was there he stayed until morning.
~~~
Thanks for reading, guys!! I’ll try to update HitS soon!
Can I finish this (already late) writing assignment that I had forgotten about without calling my mom and having her cajole me into calmness? Right now my money is on no... So I guess I'm dropping the class, which is okay in principle since this is one more than I need, but then I don't have a buffer :(
