Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun looked down on the muddy, rundown settlement of Van Horn Trading Post. The atmosphere was always a hostile one here for whatever reason, the place just generally seemed to attract the most miserable people. The buildings being in various states of terrible disrepair and the horse manure packed mud that was smeared pretty much everywhere did not help morale at all. However, one inhabitant of the town walked down the nasty streets with a smile on her face. She was heading toward a bar in the distance. She hummed wistfully to herself as she marched on.    

Her skin, a deep caramel, glistened in the ever-lowering sun. Her hair, a bundle of tightly coiled dark brown curls, sat atop her head in a loose bun. The fingers of her left hand played with the strap of her satchel as she walked. A yellow sundress with several skirts that complimented her skin tone and legs donned her body, while a pair of basic black boots encased her feet. A gun belt slung low around her hips, slightly swaying with each step. After a few more minutes, she finally made it to the bar. Sticking a key in the slot of the front door, she pushed forward and propped the door ajar with a wedge of wood on the nearby ground.

Kristabelle Walker was not one to complain much, but even she had to scoff at the state the bar was currently in. Her bar. The night before, there had been a brawl between a few drunkards. She was too tired and distracted after kicking everyone out to clean up then and didn’t get a good look at the mess they really made until now. Chairs scattered everywhere, some broken to pieces. Broken glass from beer bottles all over the floor. The mirror behind the counter where she stood serving drinks and food, shattered. She sighed heavily; this was going to take every bit of time she had before opening for the night. A prospect she was not thrilled with.

She spent the next hour cleaning the floor, managing to get every single piece of glass she could see without cutting herself. Years of practice came in handy. She moved on to the glass from the mirror behind the counter when she heard boots entering the doorway. She looked up, preparing to tell the potential patron that she wasn’t ready to open the bar yet, but her words caught in her throat.

There stood a man, nearly twice her size in height and width. He wore a blue striped shirt that had seen better days, black suspenders, black jeans and black boots. A worn black hat sat on his head, and a black bandana hung around his tanned neck. He pushed the brim of the hat up a bit, and the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen bore into her dark brown pools. His eyes looked like the ocean itself, a brilliant hue of blue and a touch of green that were accompanied by long, thick lashes. He removed his hat; strands of medium length light brown hair fell across his cheeks. Her eyes followed the strands that fell by his full lips. Even through the light stubble that was on his face, she could make out a scar or two on his chin. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Apologies, ma’am,” he drawled in a thick, gravely accent she couldn’t quite place. The gruffness of it wasn't natural, she guessed it had been a result of years of smoking. “I was hoping to get a drink, but don’t look like you’re servin’ right now.” he said with a slight, lopsided grin. She broke herself out of her stupor and finally spoke to him.

“Hello, stranger. I’m sorry for the state of things here. Some idiots got rowdy last night, this be the result of it.” she pointed to the remaining mess. “If you give me a minute I can get you a beer, whiskey, or some of my personal tequila. Imported from Mexico.” she tapped her satchel.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to trouble you. Seem like you got your hands full already.” he absentmindedly picked up two chairs, putting them back in their correct places.

“It wouldn’t any. Trust me, having to clean up this bullshit is way more vexing than getting you something to wet your whistle, friend. So, what would you like?” she waited expectantly for an answer.

“Ladies’ choice.” he nodded towards her.

“Tequlia it is then. I need it anyway.” she grabbed two shot glasses from behind the counter and sat them on top of it. She retrieved the tequila from her bag and poured two healthy shots. She picked one up, holding it out to her new guest. “Here you go.”

He stepped further into the room, and she noticed just how muscular his arms and neck were. A few of the top buttons of his shirt were undone, a few chest hairs peeked out. His scent was blown in her direction by a stray wind that filtered in the doorway. He smelled of leather, cigarettes, and something else pleasant she couldn’t make out. Pine? Wilderness in general? He reached out to take the cool glass, his fingers briefly touching hers as she handed it over. Rough, calloused. He had clearly worked with his hands a lot. Her father had hands like that. It made her feel warm and nostalgic. Her thoughts were interrupted when he spoke again. “Arthur…”

She looked up at him quizzically, those eyes mere feet from her now. “My name. It’s Arthur. Arthur Morgan. Nice to meet you, and thanks for the drink, Miss?...” he waited for her response.

“I am very rude, ain’t I? Kristabelle Walker at your service, though most call me Kris. Welcome to my bar, or what’s left of it.” Kris grimaced when she looked around again. Still several hours of work to do before she could make any money for the night. Arthur slugged back his shot in one gulp, gently placing the glass back on the counter. Being as big as he was, she didn’t expect him to be so nimble. She took her own shot as well.

“How much I owe you?” he started fishing around in his own satchel.

“Nothing, it’s on the house.” Kris waved him off. He looked at her like she had two heads. With a heavy sigh, he replied.

“Fine then, let’s get to work.” he started picking up more chairs, righting them as he walked past.

“Huh?” she asked, utterly confused.

“In exchange for the drink, gonna help you clean. Too much work for one person anyhow.” he took the broom that was leaning against the counter and started getting the corners of the floor Kris had missed in her ire.

“You really don’t have to do that, as kind a gesture that is.”  she protested.

“I know.” he continued sweeping.  

The sincerity in the basic task of his sweeping made her heart jump unexpectedly. “Um…okay. If, you’re sure.” she resumed cleaning the countertop.

They talked as they worked, just basics at first. Where they were from, if they had siblings. How old they were. She 28, he 34. Arthur was being a bit vague whenever she asked him deeper questions about himself though. Not that he was trying to be deceptive, but that he had to be. Kris noticed but kept quiet. What business was it of hers if he was a private person? After all, he didn’t know her from a hole in the wall. He could just make up stories for all she cared, he owed her nothing. His opening up to her at all was a privilege.

Kris realized once she lifted the last chair that all the work was finished. The bar looked great, better than it did before the fight even. She looked up at the clock, with an hour to spare before showtime too. She looked to where Arthur was leaning against the counter, cleaning his nails with his hunting knife. She had only now noticed he was armed well. He could easily outgun her measly pea shooter. Yet, she wasn’t afraid. He was massive and could snap her like a twig if he felt bothered, but she didn’t get that energy from him. If he was as rough and tumble as his mass and scars made him seem, then for whatever reason he was being a pussycat around her.

“Well Mr. Morgan, what do you say to having another drink with me? To celebrate me being able to earn a living tonight and to thank you for helping. You didn’t have to at all. Most folk here would have kept walking and left me to my own shitty devices.” she pulled a chair out for him to sit.

Arthur shoved the knife back into his gun belt and sat down, sitting his hat on the table. Kris grabbed the tequila bottle, glasses, and sat in the chair across from him. She once again filled them generously, sliding Arthur his. He studied the liquid for a minute before speaking again.

“This stuff is no joke. Where’d you even get it? I know you said it was Mexican but you ain’t been to Mexico yourself, have ya?” he asked while killing the shot in one go again.

She laughed softly. “No, I ain’t been to Mexico. A feller came in one night, dying of thirst. He had no money, looked like he may have been beaten up too. I felt bad for him. So, I fed him, gave him water, whiskey and a couple of beers for the road. He left happy, and I felt I’d done a good deed. The very next night he came back, only that time he had something for me.” she raised her glass and drank its contents down before continuing.

“He gave the tequila to me, said it was worth much more than what I spent the night before helping him. I took it to the fence over yonder, and it was genuine. Fence wanted to give me $100 on the spot, but I decided to keep it instead.” she poured them another round.

“Why?” he wondered. “Hundred bucks is a decent sum.”

“Because I don’t do many nice things for myself. That money would have just gone back into the bar. It always does when I make a side score. I wanted to be selfish for a change. I’m glad I did because this stuff is great.” she downed her shot. Arthur looked at her as she did, a hint of bemusement on his face.

“And what do your parents think of their little girl hard drinkin’ and runnin' a bar in this shithole?” he drank his shot. The small smile on her lips faded instantly. Kris topped them off again before answering.

“They don’t think nothin’ ‘cause they’re dead.” she looked at the glass in her hand, twirling around the clear liquid. One of the only things on earth that kept her even a smidgen sane these days. Arthur grimaced. How could he be so careless? This is why he barely drank anymore, he didn’t know when to shut the hell up when he indulged.

“Kris, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ he started but she cut him off.

“You’re fine, Arthur. Really. You ain’t had no way to know. It was an honest question.” she smiled halfheartedly, downing her fourth shot before continuing to tell her tale.  

“When I was about ten, my momma fell pregnant again. My daddy was happy, she was happy, but most of all I was happy. Because I wanted nothing more in the world than to be a big sister. The more momma’s stomach grew, the more excited I got. Then one day, she came home from the doctor and wasn’t pregnant no more. She had lost the baby, died inside of her at six months, and they had to do a surgery to get 'em out. She almost died too. It was a boy, my little brother. She was never the same after that. Held on for two more years, before taking a bit of rat poison with her morning coffee one day. I found her.” she sighed, rubbing her hand over her face.

“Shit. That’s…shit, Kris.” he looked at her face, deep lines ran through her forehead as she frowned. He tried to find the words that could lift the sorrow she was so clearly still stuck in, but he couldn’t find them. She spoke up again.

“My daddy made it five years longer, then pitched forward into the hedges he was trimming on his last day on this earth. Heart attack. Broken heart more like, if you were askin’ me.” she poured herself another drink. He stared at her eyes; he had never seen such misery. Especially not someone still so young. Well except maybe when he looked at his own reflection. “I’m sorry.” she whispered.

“What you got to be sorry for, Miss Kris?” he genuinely did not understand.

“For unloading all that on you, I’ve no idea why I did. I usually just keep things to myself. Easier to get through life that way.” she sighed again.

Arthur looked at her with empathy bursting from behind his eyes. “Do you feel better?”

“What?” she looked up at him.

“Do you feel a bit better havin’ gotten that off your chest?” he laid a hand gently on top of hers, the one not with a death grip around the shot glass. She thought a moment before answering him.

“Yeah…I…actually do.” she let out a small laugh, not believing that in the span of a few hours this stranger not only helped clean her bar, but listened to her sob story, and comforted her afterwards. This was the happiest she had been in ages. She put on a face of happiness every day but there was something not so deep inside that hurt every waking minute. But in that one moment, she didn’t feel that pain anymore. Arthur let go of her hand and cleared his throat, trying to change the subject slightly.

 “How did you come by this place?” he waved a hand around.

“It was my momma and daddy’s. It was left to me in their wills, and the family house up north in Annesburg. That’s where I live. I stayed here in town though last night after that stupid brawl. So pissed I couldn’t see straight. I’m friendly with some of the working girls, so they put me up for the night, so I didn’t have to make the trek home in that state.” she finally inhaled her waiting shot.  

Arthur started to say something, but he was interrupted by three people drunkenly flying into the bar. Kris looked up at the clock. Shit, it was time to open.

“Oh, I lost track of time.” she said disapprovingly, not wanting to work, to just keep talking to him instead. But duty called.

“You hungry?” she tossed the question into Arthur’s lap as she stood.

“I could eat.” his stomach growled audibly. He clearly hadn’t eaten in a while.

“Chef’s special coming right up.” she started towards the counter to take care of the other patrons. He called out after her.

“Who’s the chef?” he shrugged.

“Me.” she replied while passing out beers, before darting into the kitchen area. She came back out about twenty minutes later with a plate of steaming hot food and an ice-cold beer. One that was in the ice box in the kitchen, one she was saving for herself. She sat them down in front of Arthur proudly.

“Here you are, my friend; the Chef’s special.” the plate was piled with smoked beef, black beans and rice, and a potato baked clean through. There was a slice of sweet potato pie on the side too. “Please enjoy.”

Kris turned her attention back to the now half-filled bar. Arthur looked down at the offerings in front of him. Never had he seen a plate as delectable, almost feeling bad once he started to eat because he felt it was something that should be admired longer. But he couldn’t help himself. He was starving and the smell of the food was too much to ignore.

He watched her work, zipping and zooming between patrons. Never missing a step. Not only could she cook her ass off, but she could also run that place like nobodies’ business too. He hadn’t really gotten a good look at her features until now, too busy trying not to blush in front of her every time he glanced at her.

She was not tall, but she was not short either. The tallest woman in the bar presently, that was for sure at least. The dress she wore hugged her thick curves, larger chest and muscular thighs. What of them he could see every now and again as she moved, the slight slit in her skirts swaying one way or the other. Her gun belt currently missing as she took it off in the kitchen while preparing the feast for him.

His eyes traveled back up to her face; her skin was soft looking, her eyes always half lidded. Probably from some sort of condition he was unaware of. Her pudgy nose sat on her face perfectly, as did her high cheek bones and full, plump lips. His eyes stopped at her hair; the bun had become a bit sloppier since she started her day. He found the way it coiled incredibly interesting. He’d never seen hair like hers so up close before. It looked soft just like the rest of her. She was something he’d never seen before in general.

Arthur shook his head, trying to avoid thinking of this poor girl with a horrible life story as attractive. The only feelings he should have are empathy and sympathy for her plight. That’s it. He looked up from his plate, catching her looking at him from behind the counter. Flashing him with a quick smile before she was blocked out by more customers. And the night went on, the ebb and flow of patrons shifted as they did usually.

Every so often someone would get loud with Kris, and Arthur would start to stand up only to see her take care of it all by herself. Every time. She took no shit from anyone, even unarmed. But her demeanor, even when she was putting someone in their place, was of a motherly nature. He found it odd that she seemed much older than she was. But he felt the same way about himself at times, so who was he to talk?   

Kris cleared out the last of the patrons, plopping down in the seat across from Arthur again. Tired.

“I’m sorry. I feel so bad I couldn’t talk to you during my shift. I wanted to though, that was much more fun.” she offered him a shot of whiskey. He happily took it from her.

“You gotta stop apologizing woman, you ain’t done nothing wrong. Matter a fact, you done a whole lot of good. Not just by me neither. I could tell how much these people respect you, even the assholes.” he took his shot.

“I appreciate you saying that. I try my best to make this a haven, you know? I hate seeing folks in pain, and Van Horn is full of sad saps with loads of pain to spare. Things get out of hand sometimes, but it’s been okay enough so far. Bit of luck on my end I guess.” she shrugged.

Arthur thought hard for a minute or two, before pressing forward with his next question. “I know you get hassled sometimes about you bein’ a lady,” he ran a hand through his hair, working up the courage to continue.

“Yeah?” Kris raised an eyebrow.

“Well…do you ever get bothered because…um…because….” he stumbled. She finished for him.

“Because I’m colored?” she asked flatly.

“Yes, because of that do you get fucked with around here?” he was really wishing his glass was full again with whiskey, but he dared not move. What she had to say was more important, he could be a big boy and wait.

 “Around here? Not really. I think I ‘ve amassed enough goodwill for even those types to leave me be. I have in other places though. Do my very best to stay clear of the South unless it’s vital I go there.” she looked Arthur straight in the eyes. “…Does it bother you? Me being colored?”

His face turned completely white. “God no, Kris! Of course not. I hate everybody all the same. Skin color ain’t got shit to do with it.”

She let out a light laugh. “I believe you because if it bothered you, you woulda cut tail and ran the second you saw me. You wouldn’t have taken anything from me, especially food and drink. You wouldn’t have listened to me, and you wouldn’t have shown me kindness. I don’t believe you about hating everyone, however. I don’t know much of anything about you. But in my time being around you, you strike me as a feller that hates folk who need hating. Not the folks just trying to exist. If I didn’t feel that way, I would have kicked you out of my bar hours ago.”

A deep silence falls between the two of them, neither sure what to say. Kris broke it.

“Thank you for asking me that. I never get to talk about this stuff. Thanks for being a sounding board to my bullshit.” she smiled.

“Nothing about you is bullshit…” he blurted out. Kris could feel her ears heat up. Did he really just say that?

“I…um…” her words hitched in her throat. Arthur looked at the clock about her head:

3 A.M.

“Shit it got late on us. I should head out; I got some business to take care of.” he stood up, again his large frame was towering over her, encasing her in his shadow.   

“Of course. I hope I didn’t keep you…” she smiled again.

“I was where I wanted to be, don’t you be worryin’ about that.” he rested his hands on his gun belt. Kris stood up too, not sure what to do next. She wanted to hug him; wanted to know if his lips felt as soft as they looked. But she chickened out and just kept the goodbye simple.

“It was nice spending time with you, Arthur Morgan. If you’re ever back this way feel free to say hello. Don’t be a stranger.” she curtsied.

“It was nice spending time with you too, Kris Walker.” he held out a hand. She took it as a signal he wanted to shake, so she accepted it. To her surprise, Arthur flipped her hand over and gently kissed the back of it before letting go. All the blood in her body rushed to her head, it was a miracle she didn’t pass out. He stepped back slowly towards the entrance.

“Goodnight, Arthur.” Kris managed to choke out breathlessly.

“Goodnight, Kris.” and with that, he was gone in the night.

Kris had been holding in a breath she hadn’t realized, finally letting it go. She couldn’t believe any of that just happened. She happened to look down at the table, and noticed Arthur had left his hat behind. She picked it up, holding it close to her heart as she walked behind the counter. She sat it down atop it. Was it by accident, or a ploy for him to come back? She didn’t have time to wrap her head around it when she heard heavy footfalls. She was hopeful it was Arthur back for his hat.

Alas, it was not.

A man with stringy black hair, dirt encrusted union suit and jeans, and a scowl walked in. Kris stepped back a bit.

“Oh, good evening, sir. I’m so sorry, I am closed right now. About to shut off the lights. I can get you a beer for the road if you’d like though?” she gave a fake smile, hoping that would be good enough and he would just leave so she could go home.

The man flicked his tongue over his teeth, one of which was housed in a gold cap. He stepped closer. “What you can do for me sweetheart, is open that register and give me all you got.”

Kris’ right hand instinctively reached down her side.

Nothing.

Her fingers twitched.

The gun belt, you fucking moron. It’s in the kitchen where you left it!

She couldn’t believe she had done something so stupid. The man noticed the look of shock on her face; one she did not mean for him to see. He stepped close enough for his extended belly to hit the front side of the countertop, brandishing a pistol.  He pointed it at her head.

“I ain’t gonna to tell you again. Money. NOW.” Kris slapped her hand down on the register, and it flew open. The fruits of all that hard work she and Arthur had done, all the sales she made because of his help, were about to be stolen. There was nothing she could do but hand it over. The man snatched the stack of bills from her hands and shoved them into his pocket.

Anger filled her chest. “Alright, you got my money. Now get the fuck out of my bar.” she pointed at the door. But the man did not move towards it, in fact, he moved closer to her. She backed up until her bottom hit the shelf behind her, underneath where the mirror used to be. He looked at her like she was a steak dinner.

“Truth be told, I ain’t never had no colored girl before.” a deep, sinister smile spread across his thin and dry lips. He held the gun to her head directly. “Bend over the counter.”

Kris’ lip wombled, but she didn’t move an inch. Frustrated, the man reared back and hit her in the face with the butt of his gun.  He knocked all the things on the counter off except Arthur’s hat and threw her down belly first. A torrent of blood flowed from her nose. Her head spun like it never had before; she could barely see more than black spots. She could feel the back of her dress being hiked up, the sound of a belt buckle being undone.

She still couldn’t believe this was really going to happen. She had such a good time with Arthur only a short while ago, getting back to feeling truly happy again. Now she was trapped underneath a rapist, robbed of all her hard work and a gun pressed to her temple. Kris could feel him touching her where she did not want to be touched, and it made her want to retch. She did this to herself. She allowed herself to get distracted, knowing that things like this could happen at any time.

Arthur.

She pressed her eyes shut, trying to envision his face. She knew this man aimed to kill her after he had his way. No way would he just walk away, she had seen his face. She did not want that to be the last face she saw, so she burned Arthur’s into her mind’s eye instead. Kris took a deep breath, stealing herself. To add to the hopelessness of the situation, she was still untouched, never having found a suitor she fancied enough to try. Not only was she robbed, but she would be violated, stripped of her last bit of innocence and murdered. In her own god damn bar. In her momma and daddy’s bar.

Silent tears stained her high cheeks; her body shook uncontrollably. She heard his pants hit the floor behind her. He lowered himself to her ear. “Stop your whining. You should be honored to be takin’ by the leader of the Van Horn Honors.”  

This is it, this is how I die.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out, the sound deafening in the small confines of the bar. She could hear the man’s body fall to the floor, blood and brain matter that were not her own dripped down from the crown of her head. Shakely, she looked up. Expecting the next bullet to be for her. But there were no more shots fired, only a smoking gun being holstered. Kris’ eyes met with the eyes of her savior. Those same beautiful, ocean filled eyes.

Arthur took long strides to her side, scooping her up and holding her tight against his chest.  He knew the answer to what he was going to ask, but he had to anyway. For her sake. “You alright, sweetie?”

Kris looked up at him, his pupils had been blown out from rage a few seconds ago, but now they were returning to normal as he looked down on her. “You…you left your hat.” she weakly pointed toward it, before completely unraveling. Her sobs filled the entirety of the bar.

“You’re okay. I got ya. I got ya.” Arthur soothed her hair, trying to help her calm down a bit. Not bothered by the gore latching onto his fingers with each pass.  

Kris sniffled a bit longer, then spoke up. “I left my gun belt in the kitchen. He came in to rob me. Then he, he…” fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

“He failed, and he’s gone. He will never hurt you or anyone else again.” Arthur gently massaged her back.

“That’s twice you rescued me today.” she continued to sniffle.

“You were capable of taking care of this piece of shit yourself, just got caught off guard is all.” he reassured her.

“I, I gotta get out of here.” she snuggled further into Arthur’s chest.

“Sure. Let me take care of this sack of shit first.” he sat her down and moved away, turning toward the dead man. He gave the corpse a heavy kick before looting it.

“I believe this belongs to you.” he handed the money back to her, before lifting the corpse like it weighed nothing and carried it out the back door. On the way back into the bar, Arthur grabbed Kris’ gun belt.

She started to say thank you when a loud sound from the front door drew their attention.

Fire.

The entire doorway was set ablaze, as if someone had thrown a fire bottle at it.

“What the hell?!” Arthur yelled out.

“It’s them! His gang, they must have planned to do this the whole time!” Kris screamed as she watched the flames spread, destroying everything they touched. Relics from her parents, photos of her childhood there. All gone within seconds.

“We gotta go. NOW!” without waiting for a response, Arthur scooped Kris up again. He stuck her gun belt between his teeth and raced out the back door. The corpse was still in its position, meaning that the others hadn’t been back there yet.

Arthur carried Kris behind several buildings until he found where he hitched his horse. He sat her on the saddle before jumping on himself, placing her gun belt in her lap. He clicked his tongue, and the majestic beast was off. Away from danger, away from the burning memories of a life once lived.

“Van Horn Honors.” she whispered.

“What?” Arthur asked while looking over his shoulder, making sure they weren’t followed.

“What he said. He was the leader of the Van Horn Honors. They are local to here. I never had a run in with them. Not until now.” Kris started sobbing again as images of flames devouring the place she spent so many happy days with her parents danced around in her head.

“I’ll kill ‘em all.” he growled, tightening his embrace around her shivering form.

“I know a shortcut to my house. Go through the trees up here on the right, then head north for about an hour. I gotta get my horse, my clothes, and a quick bath. Can’t stay long though, who knows if they’ll figure out where I live.” she huffed weakly.   

Arthur nodded and followed where she said to. “I have a place you can go. It ain’t fancy livin’ but you’ll be safe.”

“Okay. Thank you, Arthur.” she looked down at her hand, not realizing she had grabbed his hat at some point. Kris leaned back and put it on his head, her fingers briefly caressing his cheek. He let out a small sigh as her hand slipped back down to her lap.    

“I ain’t worthy of thanks…but you’re welcome.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Chapter Text

“I never asked what your horse’s name was.” Kris piped up, attempting to find some sense of normalcy after everything that had happened.

“Oh. Well, her name’s Boadicea.” Arthur replied softly. “She’s a good girl.”

“That’s a pretty name. Never heard it before.” she patted Boadicea on the head.

“I thought so too. Saw it in a book once, thought it fit ‘er.” as they rounded a corner, Kris pointed out a house in the distance.

“You see that house up on the hill, near the mine?”

“Yeah.” Arthur nodded towards it.

“That’s my house.” he nodded again, gently steering Boadicea along the pathway leading to the house. After a few more minutes, they arrived. The house was modest in size but sat on plenty of well-kept land. There was something familiar about it, but Arthur couldn’t place it. Kris dismounted once he stopped near the house, breaking his thought.

“Wait,” he dismounted as well, grabbing a pistol before following behind her. “Just in case.”

“Of course. Hopefully that won’t be necessary.” Kris walked briskly toward a barn, waving for Arthur to follow her inside once she reached the doors. She made a beeline to the back of it. 

“Hey boy, sorry I left you for so long!” Kris called out. A loud neigh called back in return. She wrapped her arms around the neck of her horse, Weiland. He was all white, except for a brown spot on his nose. He licked her face, moving to nudge her hand to her satchel with his nose.

Arthur reached into his own satchel and pulled out a sugar cube. “Here you go, boy.” Weiland happily ate it and Kris smiled at the exchange. She brushed the horse down, speaking to him as she went.

“We’re going on a trip in a little while. I need you to be a good boy. Can you do that for me, Wei?” Weiland licked Kris’ face again in response. She giggled before pushing him away.

“Alright enough of that. I’ll be back to get you soon.” she hugged him once more before she and Arthur left the barn. As they neared the main house, he swapped places with Kris, so he walked in front of her.

Just in case.

“Seems quiet, but you can’t be too safe.” he muttered.

“I know.” Kris pulled out her key and unlocked the front door, her free hand rested on her pistol. How much better she felt with the weight of her gun belt against her hips again. Arthur pushed ahead, making sure every room was clear of danger. 

“Looks safe, for now.” he nodded at her.

“Give me a half hour to get cleaned up and packed. There’s some food in the kitchen, help yourself.” Kris pointed towards where the kitchen was located.  

“I’ll keep watch.” he sat down in a nearby chair.

Kris started to walk to her bedroom to get what she needed, but stopped and turned back to Arthur. “Hey, Arthur?”

“Yeah, Kris?”

“I know I said it before but thank you. Seriously.” she walked to her bedroom, leaving him to think.

Kris gathered an outfit to change into once she was done bathing: a black blouse, grey jeans, socks and undergarments. She grabbed a towel and exited her bedroom, heading straight into the bathroom. She eyed Arthur as she passed, he sat at the ready. Gun in hand, staring at the front door. She closed the bathroom door behind her.

Arthur took a break from the door to look around the living room, taking in his surroundings. He noticed some photos above the fireplace: a couple on their wedding day, a little girl blowing out candles atop a birthday cake, and the three of them together. He assumed they were Kris and her parents.

Arthur turned in his chair and saw a large portrait of a woman on the wall behind him. The same woman from the photos. She looked just like Kris, same eyes, same nose, same curve of the lip. The only difference being while the woman had a narrow face shape, Kris had a rounded one. Almost cherub like. Arthur heard a noise and snapped back around in the chair.

Kris walked into the room, bags in hand. She had changed into her new clothes, her hair damp from her attempt to wash it. It curled around her face, stopping just under her chin. She sat the bags down and walked over to Arthur, who was still tightly gripping his gun.

“Did you hear something?” she asked, slightly concerned.

“Thought I heard a noise, but it was just you comin’ back. Ain’t heard nothin’ else.” he looked over Kris, taking in how different she looked in these clothes. They added a certain masculinity to her aura, which only further intrigued him. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “You got everythin’?”

“Yeah, all Weiland can carry anyway. Let me grab some food and we can leave.” Kris headed for the kitchen, picking up a basket as she walked in. She filled it with some fruits, vegetables, bread, grapes, some cooked meat and two bottles of wine. As she walked back into the living room, Arthur took the basket for her. “Okay, ready now.”

Kris picked her bags back up and headed for the front door. Once outside, she sat the bags down again and jogged to the barn. After a minute, she exited with Weiland. She wasn’t holding his reins; he just followed behind her willingly. Kris loaded the bags onto Weiland’s saddle; she was about to mount when she suddenly gasped loudly.

“Oh, how the hell could I forget?!” she ran back into the house, Arthur followed her, confused.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as her watched her looking around various places in all the rooms.

“I’m a terrible mother!” she yelled mostly to herself as she continued her search. Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened.

“Mother? You gotta kid?” Kris didn’t answer, she disappeared into her bedroom.

“There you are! I’m so sorry!” she yelled. A few seconds later she returned. She had a scarf wrapped around her chest; a hand cradled a small bundle. “I can’t believe I almost forgot you.”

“You have a baby?” Arthur asked, genuinely shocked. Kris looked up at him, finally hearing what he said to her.

“What? Oh god no! Beatrix is my cat!” Kris pulled back the scarf and showed him the cat. Beatrix was resting comfortably against Kris’ chest, purring very loudly. Her orange fur rose and fell calmly. Arthur’s face turned white for a moment when the cat’s name registered. Kris looked up at him, thinking he was upset with her.

“I’m sorry, I should have said something before. Just a lot on my mind the last few hours.” she frowned. Arthur’s face returned to normal, and he cleared his throat.

“I ain’t mad. Copper on the other hand ain’t gonna like this.” he shook his head. Kris held Beatrix closer to her.

“One of your friends?” she huffed.

“My best friend actually.” he chuckled.

“Oh. So, he doesn’t like cats?” she glowered.

“Or birds, squirrels, rabbits. Anything cute and fluffy.” Arthur mused.  

“What kinda person hates those little critters?” the fact such a person existed was bad enough, but the reality of her sharing space with them soon annoyed her to the core. Arthur let out a loud chuckle.

“He ain’t a person. He’s my dog.” Kris’ cheeks turned deep purple, she was blushing. Then she started laughing at her stupidity.

“Let’s get out of here please.”

“Yes ma’am.” Arthur held the front door open, following close behind her as she passed. Kris started to get on Weiland, but Arthur stopped her. “Nah, you’re ridin’ with me. That way you can keep your little furball comfortable.” he patted the space on the saddle in front of him.

“If you say so.” Kris tied Weiland’s reins to Boadicea’s, then she hopped on her. “I didn’t even ask. Where are we headed?”

“Our camp, out near Tumbleweed. You ever been that way?” Arthur asked curiously.

“No, not yet. Been interested though.”

“Good. It won’t take long, about a half hour if we go around the back way. Probably a good idea to.” he steered Boadicea toward the road, clicking his tongue softly to encourage her forward. As they moved, Weiland followed. Kris spoke up.

“I know it’s a shitty thing to say because it obviously means something to you, but I’m glad you forgot your hat. I’d be dead right now if you hadn’t.”

“I didn’t realize I did.” he responded quietly. “At least not until you put it back on my head.”

“Then…why did you come back?”

“I made it a little way outside of town, when I felt weird. Somethin’ off, I guess. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, so I turned back. When I got to the bar, that piece of shit was on top of you. I should have blown his head completely off.” he growled, his fingers turned white from how hard he gripped Boadicea’s reins.

“I’m just glad you did. If I believed in that sort of thing, I would guess you’re my guardian angel.” Kris leaned back into his chest, the warmth radiating from his skin made her whole body relax. Some of her hair accidentally got into Arthur’s face. Instead of asking her to move, he just inhaled her scent. She smelled amazing, like lavender and something that belonged to only her.

“So am I.”

They continued in comfortable silence. Beatrix meowed, or the horses neighed occasionally but the two of them remained quiet. Kris had closed her eyes a while ago, the steady beating of Arthur’s heart had nearly lulled her to sleep. Just as she felt herself drifting off, he nudged her shoulder gently. Her eyes shot open, and she saw a campground in front of them.

Arthur dismounted, then helped Kris down. While he collected their bags and the basket, Kris looked around. She could see a series of tents, a few wagons, couple of firepits and a bunch of horses. Two of the tents stood out: one was in the center of the camp and was much larger than the others. It had curtains made of fancy fabric. They were drawn closed on the side facing her, but she could tell the other side of it was open by how the light from inside of it poured out onto the ground.

The tent next to it was much simpler in style but still looked comfortable. Its curtains were rolled up, it had some table space, what looked like a shaving area and items scattered about that she couldn’t see the details of. Arthur hitched Boadicea and Weiland to nearby posts, then gave them both some food and water. Once he was done, he grabbed the bags and walked toward the second tent. He nodded for Kris to follow him, which she did. Once they reached the tent, he sat the items down. He brought down the curtains, to give Kris some privacy.

“This is my space. It ain’t much but you’re free to sleep here until we figure out a more permanent sleepin’ solution for you.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“My bedroll, out by the water.”

“Arthur, I ain’t gonna put you out of your own bed.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to sleepin’ under the stars. Plus, I barely sleep anyway. You just worry about you; I will be fine. Rest, eat some of the food you brought. I’ll bring you some breakfast in a few minutes.” Kris started to protest, but then she realized she was too tired to be bothered.

“I just feel bad.”

Arthur placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Don’t. This is what we do, help people. What I do.” he smiled at her before leaving.

Kris sat on the edge of the bed; her stomach screamed. She forgot to eat yet again, a truly bad habit she swore to break but never did. With a heavy sigh, she rummaged through the basket and pulled out an apple. She took a big bite of it; the sweet juices filled her dry mouth, making her smile. A small droplet escaped and landed on Beatrix’s little head. “Sorry buddy.” Kris went to take another healthy bite when she stopped in her tracks.

She heard a loud, booming voice shouting greetings to Arthur. Another lighter, older voice doing the same immediately thereafter. Kris stood up and walked out into the open, the curtains on the tent in the center of camp were now open. She could see Arthur talking to two men, one with dark hair and a light mustache, and the other with graying hair. The men continued talking as she walked up behind Arthur.

“That’s when I went back and saw the guy…trying to rob her at gun point. Took care of ‘em. I had to, Dutch.” Arthur made a point of leaving out the detail of the attempted rape. It wasn’t his business to tell.    

“Of course you did. Excellent job, son”

“That poor dear. Was she hurt?” asked the gray-haired man.

“Fucker hit her in the face, nosebleed but I don’t think anythin’ got broke. Her head's gonna hurt like hell a day or two, but she’s a strong one. I’m tellin' you Hosea, I should have made him suffer.”

Dutch started to say something else, but Kris walked past Arthur and straight up to him and Hosea. She cupped both of their faces. They looked at her in pure confusion, Arthur tilted his head. She searched the two men’s eyes before she spoke up. “It really is you.”

“Oh my god!” Hosea shouted.

Dutch’s mouth hung open until he found his words. “Lil’ Kristabelle Walker. Is, is that you?”

“I ain’t so little no more, Dutch.” Kris laughed.

“I told you to stop growing last time I saw you, young lady!”

“I know, Hosea. Forgive me, I tried.”

“The hell is goin’ on?” Arthur chimed in. Kris turned around to look at him.

“Shit, sorry Arthur. There’s something I forgot to tell you. My ma? She uh, was an outlaw before she had me. Dutch and Hosea are old friends of hers.”

“Hey, I ain't old!” Hosea yelled playfully.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Kris giggled over her shoulder. She turned back to Arthur. “I meant to tell you; it just slipped my mind. That was a long time ago.”

“It’s fine. Explains some stuff.” Arthur nodded.

“We are truly sorry for never coming around after your momma died. We got into some trouble and didn’t want to bring that down upon you and your daddy.” Dutch rubbed his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

“It’s okay, I understand.” before Kris could continue, Beatrix decided to chime in as well and meowed.

  “I see you’ve brought a friend, Kristabelle.” Dutch smiled. Kris frowned.

“I didn’t mean to burden you with me, my horse and a cat.” she looked down at Beatrix.   

“Nonsense. Any friend of yours is a friend of ours.” Hosea stroked Beatrix head, making her purr loudly. Kris’ frown dissolved.  

Dutch let out a deep laugh. “Oh, Copper is just gonna love his new roommate.”

“Don’t I know it.” Arthur sighed. “Where is he anyway?”

“Playing with little Jack I believe.” Hosea scratched his chin.

“There are children here?” Kris asked in surprise.

“Just the one,” Arthur answered. “Abigail and – Marston’s boy.”

Kris noticed the bit of malice in Arthur’s voice when he spoke the other man’s name. Hosea wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders.

“John is Arthur’s little brother, hence why they fight so much.”

“Adopted. And he starts it by not doing right by that boy and his momma.” Arthur grunted.

“Arthur, please calm down. I know how passionate you are about that situation, but let’s just enjoy this moment, shall we? You brought Kristabelle back to us; everyone must know what you’ve done.” Dutch walked to the front of his tent and called out. Anybody who was awake in the camp gathered around him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Kris looked at their faces, she saw men and women of varying ages. A set of boys who resembled each other and a younger, fellow colored girl stood out to her the most.

“Everyone, listen up. Arthur has done the impossible and returned with a daughter we thought long lost.” Dutch gently moved Kris in front of him. “This is Kristabelle Walker, daughter of Nettie Walker, one of the greatest freedom fighters to ever sling a gun. Kristabelle here is our family; she will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. I expect you all to treat her with the upmost respect. Susan, will you please help Miss Walker get settled in?”

“Of course, Dutch. Come along sweetheart.” Susan grabbed Kris’ hand and guided her away from Dutch’s tent. As she passed, she noticed some people staring at her, those two rough looking boys especially.

“We’ve missed you so much, welcome home Kristabelle!” Hosea called out after her.

“You’re in Arthur’s tent for now, right?” Susan asked suddenly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I am.”

“I don’t have many rules. Just contribute to the chores, the camp funds, and most importantly no screwing in camp. We gotta child here. You take that someplace else.“

They both entered Arthur’s tent. “You don’t have to worry about that with me, ma’am.”

“Ain’t you Arthur’s girl?”

Kris’ entire face turned hot. “I’m his friend, we met just last night.”

“Plenty of relationships start in a night.” Susan huffed.

“Madam, I am not that sort of woman.” Kris’ brow furrowed. Susan looked at her in shock, before a look of recognition creeped onto her face. She understood what Kris was too embarrassed to say. I ain’t that way because I’m still a virgin. Susan’s expression softened.

“I’m sorry dear, wasn’t my place to assume. Just...work hard, contribute and you will do fine here. If you need anything at all, don’t be afraid to ask.” Susan went to leave but Kris stopped her, she picked up the basket full of food.

“I want to start by contributing this. Maybe you could pass it out to everyone. Make sure you take some food for yourself too, please.”

Susan looked inside the basket and was pleased with the offerings. “This will do just fine, thank you Miss Walker. Now please, get some rest.” with that, Susan left. Kris sat on the edge of the bed and resumed eating the apple she abandoned earlier.

“Kris?” Arthur called from outside of the tent. “Is it okay if I come in a minute?”

“It’s your tent Arthur, you can come in whenever you want.”

He entered carrying a plate and a bottle of beer. “It’s your tent for the time being, and it ain’t polite to just barge in on a lady like that.” he held his hands out towards her. “Here, some ham, eggs and baked bread. Pearson made it, he’s our cook.”

Kris took the items, wasting no time cracking open the beer. She took a deep swig, burping accidentally afterward. Arthur just laughed. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“Tell Mr. Pearson I said thank you for the grub.”

“Eat and get a nap in. Me and you are gonna go out huntin’ this afternoon. When we get back, I’ll introduce you to everyone proper.”

“Okay, Arthur. Thanks.”

“Never a problem.” he left.

Kris quickly ate the food, burning herself a few times as she couldn’t wait for it to cool down first. It tasted too good to wait. She fed some of the ham to Beatrix every now and then. Once she was finished, Kris sat the empty plate and beer bottle on the nearby table. She let out a satisfied sigh and laid back on the bed. Beatrix crawled out of the scarf and curled up into Kris’ hair, before falling asleep.

Kris looked around at some of the items nearby. She could see a picture of a dog, who she gathered was Copper. A picture of a younger Dutch, Hosea and Arthur, who was clean shaven. His skin smooth and free of his current scars.

“Christ, he was gorgeous back then too.” Kris let out a small whistle.

Her eyes next landed on a picture of a man who appeared to be wearing Arthur’s hat. He was holding up a board that read:

Lyle Morgan

Larceny

12 - 7 - 1874

Arthur looked a lot like the man; they even had nearly identical scars on their chins. So, she assumed this must be his father. Having had enough for the time being, Kris closed her eyes. The events of the previous day and being up all night had finally taken their toll on her. She was out like a light in less than a minute.

That was the most peaceful she had felt in a very long time.