#red dead brodemption

[prairiemule]

You think John ever used to make fun of Arthur for having that patchy part in his beard cause of that chin scar, only to have the same shit happen to him but even worse

#rdr #rdr2 #john marston #arthur morgan #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #my thoughts #my uploads #red dead brodemption #like i imagine if he'd gotten it young enough #john would have definitely given him shit for it #but now thanks to those wolves he's got the exact same problem lmao #if anybody tags this as ship it's an insta block by the way #1k.

[squidproquoclarice]

We're coming up on a brother reunion real soon right? So can you do a Red Talk on John and Arthur's relationship?

I love me some Red Dead Brodemption, and I’m looking forward to the reunion, and how that shapes things after, as much as y’all.  I’m not certain what’ll happen so this should be fun.  As to when, I’m pretty sure it’ll happen by the end of Chapter XIII (Horseshoe Overlook II).  As usual, I’m kind of taking the story as it comes and letting it find its own flow, and forcing the reunion in earlier just didn’t feel right.

OK, so we have a few confirmed pieces: John is 10 years younger than Arthur (given 1863 and 1873 birthdates), that they found John in Illinois when he was 12, that Abigail joined in 1894 at age 17 (1877 birthdate), quickly got pregnant, and gave birth to Jack in 1895 (4 years old in 1899).  John tried to deny paternity and generally shunned the responsibility of being a father, and at some point between 1895 and 1899, also disappeared for a whole year.  Arthur is still incredibly pissed about this.

My meta is that John’s sudden adoption threw a 22-y-o Arthur into a panic.  He’s clearly always struggled with feeling insecure and worthless, and Dutch and Hosea suddenly fawning over this new boy, talking about educating him, making him one of the family, etc. means he’s failed.  He’s not lived up to what they needed him to be, and so they’re turning to someone who can replace him.  It’s not pretty that a grown, even if very young, man is threatened by a child, but given Arthur’s traumas and mental issues, it’s understandable.

So he started to act out.  Went chasing jobs, bringing in more money, to prove that a man, not a boy, was what Dutch needed.  That he was still worth his place.  Dutch loved it, of course, and probably took advantage of Arthur’s desperation and willingness to do about anything to prove himself.

That cost him his relationship with Mary as she saw he wasn’t moving further away from the gang like he’d promised, but sinking even further into criminal life.  I also HC that shortly after this, Arthur and Eliza had their lonely drunken hookup that resulted in Isaac.  So his life pretty much turned into a disaster for a few months there in 1885 because he was running around in a total panic.

He was likely kind of an asshole to John early on, because if you’re deathly afraid of being replaced by this kid, why would you be nice?  But being stuck together for the winter, they learned to get along.  Arthur saw that he wasn’t being kicked out.  John was the golden boy, the new favorite, and that wasn’t going to change.  Dutch and Hosea still valued him for what he could do.  He resigned himself to being the workhorse, and earning his place via his skills.  Plus Arthur being Arthur, he’s a soft touch, especially for kids and animals, and so he’d have seen more than a little of himself in this feral little gremlin.  I think he switched pretty quickly, once he made his peace with being somewhat replaced, to being John’s fiercest defender.

On John’s side, he initially hated Arthur a bit too, because a grown man picking on you when you’ve been let down and hurt by adults in your life already, cool.  Once things softened, and John started to settle in and soften his own trauma-based armor, he idolized Arthur.  This former illiterate street rat, just like John, who’d become this formidable man who seemingly could do everything, and do it well.  He had Dutch and Hosea’s absolute trust, rather than being an ignorant kid who couldn’t even read.  Everything John wanted to be, really.  

So for a good while I think the two of them had a very close-knit relationship.  There was always something unequal about it, because John was a kid still, but they were brothers and would have done anything for each other.  As you get past 1890 and John turning 17 or so, things started to shift again.  Arthur would always be more capable, wiser, and older, but now John was becoming an adult himself.  They could start to relate a bit more as peers, and John in particular really craved that.  Arthur’s respect and praise was probably the one he wanted most, because it was so hard earned.

1890-1894 were probably promising years for their relationship.  Arthur lost Eliza and Isaac in 1890, and took that as a sign.  He quietly resigned himself to a life of nothing but the gang, and worked even harder.  John started to grow up.  Then the “Jackcident” happened, and things went to shit again.  Arthur had lost a family only a few years before, and he saw John making a similar mistake, but even worse--unlike Eliza who wouldn’t join the gang or marry Arthur, Abigail was right there.  John doing the right thing would cost him so little, but he refused.

Things deteriorated from there, and John hid his overwhelmed insecurities behind a slut-shamey “The kid’s probably not even mine”, and saw Arthur turn into a coldly judgmental asshole again about it.  What did Arthur know about this anyway?  He’d been chasing the same unattainable woman for years (or so John thought) who’d made it clear she wouldn’t have him.  But fine, if he couldn’t have Arthur’s respect, maybe it wasn’t worth having anyway, the judgmental prick.  If Arthur can’t forgive him when he’s this cold-hearted clay statue who doesn’t care to understand what love and relationships are like outside of storybooks, screw him.

As for Arthur, his inability to straight talk John about Eliza and Isaac meant he just turned frosty and angry, and it stayed that way.  Then John left, and it got even worse, because that meant John had betrayed the gang, betrayed his son and the woman who’d borne his child, and he’d also betrayed Arthur and all the affection he had for John, and the hopes that John would turn out better than him. 

Arthur’s still pretty pissed about this and John returned at least a year prior to Chapter 1, so he is absolutely holding a grudge.  Plus John’s every bit as resentfully defensive about it as Arthur is frostily judgmental.  That to me speaks to them having to have had a really close relationship before John’s shunning his responsibilities to Jack and Abigail caused this rupture, because you honestly don’t react that strongly, or passive-aggressively, to someone you don’t give a shit about.  You tend to ignore them totally.

Chapter 4′s “Angelo Bronte, A Man Of Honor” (RIP Bronte glitch, I miss you) is really a huge turning point, and seems to show how things used to be between them.  John’s trying hard to relate to Arthur in that mission, admitting his failures as a father, admitting his fear for Jack.  Arthur responds readily to that admission of responsibility and concern, like he’s been waiting for exactly that all this time, because he has.  It ends with a moment of them returning to the awkward impasse they’ve been in for years, with John’s inability to even say to Arthur what it means to him that he helped rescue Jack beyond “Thank you”, after finally admitting his failures openly.  But then we return again to a glimpse of something brighter with Arthur’s quiet, “I understand...go be with your family.”  There’s a sense of much-needed forgiveness in that.  

It starts really paying off in Chapter 6, because it’s finally there that we see the two of them able to stand there and talk to each other as grown men, like they never had a chance to do before.  Though there’s the interesting note to that whole thing that even as they’re relating as men, it also returns to where it began: Arthur giving so much of himself to protect and teach John, and John idolizing Arthur as the standard by which he measures himself (and all too often falls short.) 

But there’s something left still unfinished there, because the relationship is still unbalanced.  It needs John to kick off Arthur’s boots he’s been trying so hard to wear all these years, so to speak, and finding his own that fit and becoming his own man, and Arthur being able to slip off the yoke of carrying so much weight for John while he continues to grow up.  So yeah, there’s some work left to accomplish in 1907.  ;)

#arthur morgan #john marston #rdr2 #thank you for coming to my red talk #may the sunrise #Anonymous

[prairiemule]

If Luck Were a Man - RDR2 One Shot

Yeehawgust 2021, Day 6 - Six-shooter

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston

Words: 2,431

Summary: After a tip for a simple home robbery goes very wrong, Arthur realizes that John’s luck is far more powerful than anything the universe could throw at them.

AO3 Link

California - 1891

The shade from the trees and a cloudy sky mercifully cut down on the California heat. The two riders walked their horses through the forest of pine. Arthur ducked under a low hanging branch, holding his hat to his head. The trail to this cabin was becoming overgrown, looking like it had been hardly used by anyone in awhile. With its already fairly steep incline and winding path, it made traversing the trail all the more difficult.

“Shit.” John exclaimed suddenly.

Arthur looked over, seeing his younger brother rubbing his face. He laughed. “Got a scratch there?”

“Yeah . . .” John muttered, leaning forward and patting his horse, a big brown turkoman. “We better get there soon, Layla is too tall for this skinny trail.”

“If that feller’s tip is right, we should be getting there soon. Said it would take about forty minutes on this trail.”

John grumbled as he ducked another branch. “Better be.”

Sure enough, the winding little path soon revealed a secluded cabin in the woods. It was located in a small open meadow, beautiful flowers dotted the long grass all around it, with tall trees stretching up at the clearing’s edge. It was somehow both very inviting, and very foreboding.

“Guess this is it.” John said, pointing out the obvious.

“Must be.” Arthur squinted, trying to take in more of the house’s details. There was no movement inside, it didn’t look like anyone had walked through the area around the house recently, and the dead garden next to the cabin was full of overgrown weeds. To top it all off, there seemed to be a shallow grave behind the house with a makeshift wooden cross stuck in the ground. It all seemed to point to nobody living here anymore. Emphasis on living. “I’m thinking the house is empty.” Arthur finally concluded

“That’ll make this easier.” John said.

“Yeah, well. Just be prepared. Ain’t nobody living here anymore, that don’t mean we won’t find some dead bodies.”

“Great.” John sighed, walking Layla closer to the wood cabin. “This better be worth the trouble.” He said over his shoulder.

“At the very least, we could probably move camp up here if we ever needed to. Nice secluded area.” Arthur nudged his own horse to move again.

The two of them dismounted into the tall grass. They didn’t bother hitching their horses, trusting them to stick around, giving the mares ability to eat their fill from the abundant foliage around.

Even though he was nearly positive the house was empty, Arthur drew his revolver as they approached the door. John did the same, flanking the door as Arthur pushed it open. The hinges creaked eerily as it slowly, slowly swung open. An unpleasant musty smell wafted out, but other than that there was nothing.

Arthur nodded to John and the two of them crept inside. It wasn’t a huge cabin, but there were two other rooms attached to the main area. Probably bedrooms. Or maybe one was a storage room. Whatever the case, once they were sure the first area was clear, they both took a side room to check.

What Arthur found was an empty bedroom.

What John found was a - “Oh god damn it.” Came his raspy yowl.

Arthur rushed towards the room John had entered. “Marston? You okay?” He said quickly, unable to keep the worry from his voice.

When the older man barged into the other room, he saw John just standing there, staring into the corner. Following his line of sight, he found what had spooked his brother, an old woman’s corpse.

“Oh.” He said, finally holstering his gun. “Guess that explains it.”

“Come on, Arthur.” John looked over at him, exasperated. “How are you always so relaxed about this kind of shit?”

“You’ll go numb to it too, soon enough.” Arthur rolled his eyes. But, he pulled the quilt from the bed. He walked over to the long dead woman sitting quietly in her chair, and gently draped it over her. “Sorry ma’am.” He murmured, hoping silently that John didn't hear.

“It ain’t like I’ve never seen a corpse before ” the young man defended. “Just . . . took me by surprise is all.”

“Really?” Arthur said as he turned, raising a brow. “I even warned you.”

“I know. Still, didn’t expect it.”

“Listen, I know I warned you, but the easiest way to deal with this shit is if you just don’t expect anything, then you can’t be surprised.”

John stared at him blankly. “So . . . no expectations? For anything?”

“Yep.”

“That sure explains a lot about how you get through life.” John sighed. “Okay, well I guess that does explain why that man said the people living here ain’t been seen in town in months.”

“Yeah.” Arthur nodded. “I have a feeling her husband is the one buried out back.” He changed the subject. “So, let's get to clearing this place out so we can get back to camp before sundown. I don’t feel like navigating that overgrown trail in the dark.”

“Me neither.” John agreed.

They made quick work of the cabin, thoroughly inspecting each room and grabbing what valuables and cash were lying around. There was a bit of decent jewelry from the old woman’s small collection. Would sell easily at a fence. Arthur even grabbed a few cans of still unopened food from the kitchen cabinets.

The best find, by far, was a large wad of cash stuck in an envelope under one of the beds. Arthur counted one hundred and six dollars.

John stared at it. “So . . . what if we didn’t tell Dutch or Hosea about that cash and just split it between us?”

Arthur glared at him. “You know we can’t do that. Everyone else needs to eat too. You been trying for years to be a fully fledged member of the gang, so try acting like it for once.”

John scoffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. I was mostly joking anyway.” He muttered.

“Mostly.” Arthur repeated with a small chuckle.

His little brother glanced around the house for a second. “You think that’s everything? Was a pretty decent haul. I’m actually surprised how good that feller’s tip was.”

“Me too.” Arthur agreed, shoving the envelope full of money in his satchel. “I think we’ve turned the place over, we should head ba-“

Arthur was interrupted by a loud voice outside. “Alright boys!” The man’s voice said. “Just come on out now, hands in the air, and we won’t kill you!”

The brothers stared at each other for a split second before they quickly crouched low and out of sight from the windows.

“The hell is that?” John whispered harshly. “The law?”

Arthur shushed him, putting a finger to his own lips.

The voice continued. “Now I know you can hear me, just give us what you found, and maybe we’ll let you live!”

Arthur sighed. “That ain’t the law, we been followed.” He said quietly.

John cocked his head. “A setup?”

“Maybe . . .” Arthur crept towards the window by the door, slowly peaking out. He saw four armed men, one on horseback, the other three standing around. He held up four fingers to John. As he looked closer, he recognized the man on the horse. It was the same bastard who’d tipped them off about this cabin in the first place.

“You got ten seconds to get out here, before we start shooting the place apart!” The man threatened, clearly growing more impatient.

Arthur ducked back down. “John, crawl out a back window, quick.”

John looked back and forth at people that weren’t there, then pointed at himself. “Me? Why me?”

“I’m too big, dumbass, now get moving. I’ll distract them. And be careful of any more of them.”

John grumbled but quickly darted towards the bedroom further from the front door.

Arthur finally raised his voice. “Alright, I hear you.” He spoke loudly, hoping to cover for any sound John was making. “Just take it easy, why the hell did you give us that tip if you just wanted to rob the place yourself?”

“Oh, well, we just wanted someone else to check and see if it was safe. And, figured you two was thieves already.” The man replied smugly. “So you probably have even more valuables on you than what we would’ve found here.” The man laughed. “Just two birds with one stone is all. Robbing you and the house at the same time!”

God, that was a stupid plan from these second rate criminals Arthur grumbled to himself. But he needed to keep him talking for John’s sake. “Sorry friend.” Arthur hollered out. “Anything else we’d have stolen wouldn’t be with us. We ain’t that dumb.”

“Guess we’ll see about that ourselves, now get out here.” The man growled

Arthur went to reply again when suddenly there was a surprised yelp from behind the house. Then the resounding bang of a gunshot and a man’s scream. Arthur held his breath, hoping it had been John’s gun, and the kid was okay.

A split second later he was relieved to hear his dumb little brother exclaim “Shit!” For the second time in the last hour.

“What the hell?” One of the men out front said.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Arthur burst through the front door, shooting the nearest man between the eyes before dashing to the side of the house and taking cover against the side, he felt the heat from the bullets as they whizzed by him, taking cover against the side of the house, somehow unscathed.

One of the men tried to come around the corner at him, but Arthur was too quick, killing him too. Arthur crouched down, staying at his corner of the house.

Suddenly from behind him, he heard John’s rasp. “Arthur, Arthur!” Came his harsh whisper.

Arthur looked over to see his little brother sliding closer to him, his back against the side of the cabin. “The hell is it John? You get hurt?”

“No!” John replied quickly, holding his six-shooter out. “My gun’s jammed.”

“Jammed?” Arthur repeated, frustration laced his voice. “Well go get the gun from the man you killed, quick!”

“I can’t!”

“Why the hell not?” Arthur was losing patience he didn’t even know he had left.

“He dropped it in the well when I shot him!”

The incredible stupidity of that statement hit Arthur so hard, he thought he’d been shot for a split second. What were the odds of that happening, on top of everything else going wrong today.

Arthur needed to take his own advice and not be surprised by something so unexpected, he had to get his mind back in the moment. They needed a way out of this. The bullets kept flying by them, keeping them pinned. There were only two of them left at this point, but he was going to have a hard time getting an angle on them. Especially with John not having a gun to help.

Twice as he leaned out, a bullet narrowly missed him. He peeked out again, just as John jumped out, throwing his revolver with all his might at the man on foot.

Then the most insanely lucky thing Arthur’d ever seen happened. As the jammed revolver hit the first man in the face, it fired, angled perfectly to shoot the second man on his horse under his jaw and right out the back of his head, killing him instantly. When the man’s body slumped and slipped out of the saddle, the horse panicked and ran off.

Arthur barely had time to let that all sink in before he rushed out and shot the last remaining man, he was an easy target, still stunned from being smacked in the face with a gun.

Arthur turned around in disbelief at what just happened. John stood in silence, exactly where he’d been when he hurled the gun. Eyes blown wide open, then a big smile formed on his face and he started laughing nearly hysterically.

“God damn it, boy.” Arthur shook his head, then let out a wheezy laugh. John’s cackle was infectious. The older man sat down in the grass, continuing to laugh and wiping his eyes.

John leaned forward on the house, putting one arm up to support himself, keeping the other wrapped around his stomach as his cackling kept going.

They remained like that for what felt like longer than their shootout had lasted. Until finally, Arthur stood back up. He looked over at John, who was finally getting control of himself and breathing deeply. “What a god damn circus clown show that turned into.”

“Did that really happen?” John asked in disbelief. “I must be dreaming.”

“It really did.” Arthur pinched his nose. “You have got to be the luckiest boy I’ve ever met. How you managed to pull that off and not even get shot in the process is beyond me.”

“Luckiest man.” John corrected as he stood up fully. “And how can you say that after all the bullshit with the well?”

Arthur shrugged. “Well that’s luck too, just not good luck.”

“It all evened out then, huh?”

“That’s how it goes, I guess.” Arthur grinned. “If luck were a man, he’d be you.”

“Don’t know how I feel about that.” John shook his head, then had some kind of realization and glanced around the area. “You don’t think there’s more of them, do you?”

“If there were, they would have killed us while we were having our laughing fit.”

“Oh . . . yeah.” John scratched the back of his neck. “What do we do now?”

“Check the bodies for anything of value and get the hell out of here.”

“Alright.” The young man smiled wildly. “I cannot wait to get back to camp and tell everyone about this.”

Arthur chuckled. “The first thing you should do when we get back to camp is clean your god damn gun, you moron.”

“That can wait.” John dismissed quickly.

Arthur chuckled. “You’ll forget if you don’t.” The older man pat John’s shoulder, then lightly pushed him towards the back of the house. “Alright, that’s enough talk. Go check the feller you killed back there, sooner we get out of here, sooner we can tell camp how much of a lucky fool you are.”

John looked over his shoulder as he walked. “I want to see Hosea’s face when I tell him. He’s never gonna believe me!”

Arthur shook his head fondly at his little shit brother, sometimes it was hard to believe how much he’d grown up the past few years. “You’re right, he sure ain’t.”

notes: This was actually an old one shot I had outlined and planned awhile ago that I never got around to writing, but I finally decided to bring it back out and write it to fulfill today's Yeehawgust prompt, I thought it could fit it well enough!

Sorry if it's a little messy, for whatever reason I struggled a lot with the action segment and trying to keep the plot in line

#yeehawgust #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #rdr2 fic #my writing #my uploads #red dead brodemption #this one is pretty silly #i struggled getting the plot and action sequences together lol #but still i had fun with it #watch me have to remove the ao3 link cause tumblr hates me

[prairiemule]

Yeehawgust Day 5 - Campfire Tales

Featuring a young Arthur and John!

#yeehawgust #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #rdr #red dead brodemption #vector art #my art #my uploads #just wanted to do something simple with the brothers #pretend arthur's telling john some story #hope i got john's hair looking messy enough lol #i keep taking so long to get these done T^T #i really struggled to get them to look right

[prairiemule]

The Saddle & the Springs - RDR2 One Shot

Howdy @bllds1! I was your backup santa for the @rdr-secret-santa event. You said you wanted a brotherly-bonding piece with the boys, so I hope I delivered!

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston (major) Bessie Matthews, Susan Grimshaw, Hosea Matthews (minor)

Words: 9624

Summary: While looking for potential scores in a small Wyoming town, the boys hear about a wonderful and strange park to the north, Yellowstone. What they find there will amaze them.

ao3 link

Wyoming - April, 1891

Mild weather in April seemed impossible, but it had been nothing but beautiful clear skies for days now. Arthur leaned back in the saddle, staring up at the sun for a brief moment. It was a little past noon, maybe one o’clock. He needed a new pocket watch badly. Maybe he’d buy one in town, recent scores had left him with a decent chunk of pocket change.

Beside him, John was grumbling and adjusting himself in his seat. His brown turkoman horse, Layla, patient with all the fiddling.

Arthur cocked a brow, “The hell you doing, Marston?”

“This damn saddle.” John growled out. “It don’t fit my ass no more.”

Arthur stifled a laugh. “That so? Surprised you can even say you have an ass, skinny as you are.”

“Shut up.” John shot back. “I’m not the kid I was when I got this old thing.”

The older man nodded. “Suppose you’re right. You gone and turned eighteen on us, huh?”

John smiled proudly for a short second. “You’re gonna have to start treating me like an adult and not some little shit kid.”

Arthur laughed. “You’ll always be my little shit brother, Johnny.”

The teenager grumbled again, changing the subject. “How much longer we gonna be staying around here? Thought we was headed for Denver.”

“I have no idea. Hosea and Dutch seem to be up to something. Maybe they think there’s a score in Granger worth getting in the meantime.”

“So, what are we supposed to do?”

“Not draw attention to ourselves.” Arthur shrugged.

John sighed. “Whatever they’re cooking up better be worth it, there ain’t nothing to do around here to pass the time.”

“You should try reading more, kid.”

“Reading is boring.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to have this argument again with a moody teenager. “Maybe we’ll find a score of our own in town when we get there.”

“Haven’t robbed a coach in awhile.” John mused.

“What did I just say?”

“You’re no fun.” John groused, but there was humor in his voice.

“They keep telling me that.”

“Where the hell is this next town anyway? Sweetwater, was it?”

“We’re almost there, relax.”

As the sun gradually fell from its peak in the sky, the two of them continued their leisurely walk alongside the train tracks toward town, an inbound train whistling in the distance. Soon enough, they crested a hill, and the little town of Sweetwater was easily visible in the arid landscape of slowly rolling hills and short, hardy shrubs and grasses

“Don’t look like much from here.” John said, pulling his hat off to wipe his brow.

Arthur took the little town in, noting the railroad station. “Probably not much more than a place for travelers to stop and rest up. Still, keep your eyes and ears open. With so many people who pass through, you never know what gems you can pick up in dusty little forgotten holes like this.”

“Guess I’ll check out the saloon.” John said quickly.

Arthur held in a laugh. “Trying to take the easy job, huh?”

“Maybe I just don’t think your hearing is good enough for it, old man.” John teased. “It can get pretty loud and rowdy.”

“Whatever you say, kid.” Arthur shook his head. “I needed to go to the general store anyway.”

“Pick me up a -”

Arthur interrupted him. “Buy your own damn cigarettes, John.”

“I’ll pay you back!”

“I’ve heard that lie too many times now to believe you.”

“Fine.” John conceded. “Maybe I’ll just take a pack off some drunk patron”

Arthur gave him a stern look. “If you do, just try not to get in another brawl. I don’t want to have to save your ass again.”

“I fight fine, Arthur.”

“A blind raccoon could fight better than you.”

John rolled his eyes. “Just come join me when you’re done in the store, alright?”

“Sure. Might check out the station or a few shops ‘fore I come to the saloon. Doesn’t look like there’s much in the town, but you never know.”

The teenager nodded. When they finally made it onto the main drag of town, John split off and headed further down the road, having spotted what was clearly the saloon. A good number of stumbling fools wandered around outside of it, along with a few working girls gauging potential customers.

Arthur took a big swig of his canteen. The weather may have been clear and relatively mild, but it was still bright and hot out in the arid environment. He would need to refill his water while they were in town.

As he looked around, by all accounts Sweetwater wasn’t some beaten down, desperate little place. It was quaint, and well kept. Perhaps being on the railroad line kept it this way. There were a few interesting shops and businesses, a little bookstore, a tailor, a stable, and what appeared to be a leatherworker or saddler.

He hitched his roadster mare, Artemisia, outside the general store. The big horse let out a sigh before drinking heavily from the nearby trough. The heat was getting to her too. Arthur gave her a few pats. “We’ll head back to camp after this, and you’ll be able to rest up a few days.”

She flicked her ear and snorted her response.

Arthur chuckled, giving her one more pat before heading into the general store. It was a quick stop, grabbing some provisions for the road and finding a decent pocket watch to replace his broken one. He could have stolen one. But sometimes he enjoyed truly buying and owning something for himself.

Once back out in the street, Arthur glanced around town, again taking notice of the saddler and stable on the far edge of town. He almost didn’t think much of it, when suddenly an idea crossed his mind. He took one look at John’s horse, Layla, hitched outside the saloon, then he turned and wandered up the road towards the saddler.

- - - - -

He found John at the saloon’s bar maybe an hour later. The kid was standing steadily, nursing a beer bottle. So Arthur imagined he was only a few drinks in, if at all. “John.” He greeted his brother, lowly.

He looked up. “Arthur.” John returned.

Arthur leaned against the bar and took in the place. Most folks seemed to be having a good time, lots of raucous conversation and laughter.

Arthur dropped a quarter on the counter. “Gimme a beer.” He said to the barkeep. Avoiding his usual drink of whisky for the time being.

“Sure thing.” The barkeep replied, reaching under the counter and handing him a bottle. “Anything else?”

Arthur held up his canteen. “Water for the road would be good.”

“There’s a pump around back you can use.” The barkeep replied. “We’re also right on a river if that doesn’t suit you.”

Arthur nodded. “Thanks.”

After taking a few drinks from the bottle, he nudged John and gestured to an empty table in a dead area of the saloon, John grabbed one more drink and followed. “Heard anything?” Arthur asked quietly when they sat down.

John shrugged. “Not really. Think the most we’d get out of this town is robbing the few rich train passengers that may pass through. Even that’s probably not worth the trouble right now.”

Arthur nodded. John was talking sense for once. He’d been doing that more lately. “Didn’t see much from the various shops around. We could check another town tomorrow after we get back to camp.”

“Maybe.” John paused for longer than he usually would.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur. “Something on your mind?” He pressed.

“I dunno. You uh . . . you heard of a weird park north of here? Yellow-something or other?”

Arthur stared at him. “Yellowstone?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s it.” John took another moment. “People ‘round here, keep saying shit about rainbow colored pools up there? Holes in the ground that blast out water? Boiling pits of mud?”

Arthur nodded. “I read about Yellowstone park a couple times over the last few years, in some papers and a few other things.”

“So . . . is all that shit true?”

“I dunno, I guess?”

“ . . . Weird.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?”

John shook his head. “Nothing, just the only interesting thing I’ve heard all day.”

“If that’s all you been hearing about, this town really ain’t worth the trouble, is it?”

“Don’t think so.” John sighed. “Shame too, I’m so damn bored.”

“We’ll have some action soon enough.” Arthur stood. “We best head back to camp then, let Hosea and Dutch know there’s nothing out here.”

John downed the rest of his drink, standing as well. “Alright, can we please rob someone on the road on way back?”

“No.”

“God damn it.” The teenager sighed.

“Let’s get a move on. I’d prefer to be back in camp before the sun sets.”’

“Yeah, alright.”

They left the saloon without another word. Arthur found the water pump around the back and refilled his canteen. Then the two of them mounted up on their respective horses and began their journey out of town.

As they passed the stable, John pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Gimme a match, would ya?” He held his hand out towards Arthur.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “So you gone and stole a pack of cigarettes, but didn’t have the sense of mind to get matches while you were at it? I ain’t giving you one of mine.”

John dropped his hand. “Shit, Arthur. Maybe I got one on me.” He started patting his pockets, finally finding a small, broken match in his shirt pocket. He held it out proudly, cigarette still dangling between his lips. “Ha! See?”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“You always say to be prepared.”

“That’s not being prepared, that’s being a lucky fool.”

“I’m pretty sure lucky is the last thing you can call any one of us.” John replied, having successfully lit his stolen cigarette.

Arthur snorted. “Maybe so.”

Unlike the relaxed ride into town they had, Arthur insisted they pick up the pace on the way back, cantering and trotting most of the way. John grumbled a few times after they’d passed an extravagant looking coach and they didn’t rob it. But Arthur remained steadfast and kept them moving.

The sun had almost completely disappeared beyond the horizon when they reached camp. It was just south a ways of the little town of Granger, right up next to a small stream. Far enough out that it was hidden by the hills. They followed the stream into camp, two fires glowing in the dimming light.

He heard what sounded like a heated discussion between Dutch and Hosea, muffled by Dutch’s large tent. Unsure if anyone would be on guard duty, Arthur announced their presence as they got close.

“Arthur and John, coming in.” He called out.

After a small delay, he heard a “Welcome back, boys.” From Bessie, off near the campfire.

“Any news?” Arthur asked as he led his horse to the hitching post.

He heard her approaching him now. “They’re still working on something.” She replied.

“When they get back to camp?”

“About an hour after you two left.”

John laughed. “They been fighting that long, huh?”

Bessie rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “You know how it is. Dutch thinks he’s right, Hosea knows he’s wrong. They’ll come to an agreement eventually.”

Arthur dismounted and began to remove Artemisia’s tack. “Well whatever they’re hoping to score better be good. Granger sure ain’t a big town, and if it’s anything like this Sweetwater we just went to, there’s not much of value.”

Bessie frowned. “So no luck with you two then?”

John shook his head, leaning on the saddle horn. “Nothing. Not even a funny story in the saloon.”

“Well, I guess you boys better get some food. Susan’s got some stew ready. I’m sure Hosea and Dutch will want to hear about what you found eventually. Even if it’s nothing.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Matthews.”

She smiled and gave him a quick shoulder squeeze before heading back to the scout fire.

John dismounted, rubbing his ass when he was down on solid ground. “I’m serious, Arthur. This saddle is killing me. I have half a mind to take one from the next person I see alone on the road.”

Arthur glared at him. “Wait till we’re on the way to Colorado again if you’re really gonna do that. I don’t want to tell you again, no drawing attention to ourselves right now.”

“You ain’t the boss of me.” He groused.

“Like hell I’m not.” Arthur laughed. “Besides, that order comes from Dutch and Hosea, not me.”

John sighed, beginning to take Layla’s tack off. “One of these days, you ain’t gonna be giving me orders no more.”

The older man shrugged. “When I’m dead.”

With their horses finally tack free and brushed down, the two of them grabbed bowls of stew and joined Bessie at the campfire. Arthur looked around between a few bites. “Where’s Ms. Grimshaw?”

Bessie glanced up from her sewing. “She’s doing a quick parameter check. Thought we might have spotted some coyote scat off towards the butte when we went hunting earlier.”

“Coyotes, huh.” John repeated, pushing his food around in his bowl. “You think they’re gonna try and steal some food from us?”

“Who knows.” Bessie replied. “But if they are thinking about it, Susan’ll scare them off with a few shots I’m sure.”

“Almost got bit by a coyote a year back.” John grumbled.

“How?” Arthur asked, raising a brow.

“I dunno!” The teenager threw up a hand. “I was out doing some target practice, and one of them wiley bastards just walks up on me, ain’t afraid or nothing, then it - ” John stopped himself. “You know what, nevermind.”

“No, please continue.” Arthur pressed. “Why ain’t you ever told us this?”

“ . . . Well I just rushed off towards Layla and ran away. That’s all that happened.”

After a moment’s pause, Arthur replied. “Alright so that’s why you never told us.”

He could see his little brother turning red, even in the dim light. “Shut up.”

“No, no. It’s okay. Coyotes are real frightening.”

“Well the ones I’ve met have been!”

“Why didn’t you shoot at it?”

“I’d just shot all my bullets at the targets, I didn’t have time to reload!”

Arthur started laughing, and Bessie reached over to smack him. “Don’t tease him, Arthur. You know better.”

“Fine, fine.” Arthur said. “I won’t tease him about being scared of a little coyote. Least it weren’t a wolf, or a cougar . . . or a bear!”

As John went to bite back, a few shots of a repeater rang out nearby, followed by the unmistakable yowls of coyotes.

The conversation stopped, until finally Bessie spoke up. “Ha, guess Susan found them.”

“Good.” John said. “Like to wake up and not have the camp ransacked by thieves.”

“Hope she brings one back, that’ll be breakfast.” Arthur mused.

There was a grunt of agreement from John, despite the fact that he’d barely eaten.

The night continued as they finished with their stew, John at a much slower pace. The stars were beginning to shine above, uninhibited by any clouds. A nice, pleasant breeze, further cooling down the arid climate.

Another half hour or so of idle chatter later, and Susan rode up on her little paint horse, a single coyote strapped to its back. “Well, I chased them off.” She said simply when she joined them at last.

“And got us breakfast.” Arthur added.

Susan gave a small laugh. “I guess so.” She sat down next to Bessie. “Good to see you boys back in once piece.”

“Just a quick look in the next town over, weren’t nothing to be worried over.” Arthur said.

Susan snorted. “Oh please. You two are a nightmare of a mixed bag. You boys either work like a well-oiled machine, or a set of mismatched gears. Either way it’s worth worrying over.”

Arthur shrugged. “Well, we’re fine. And we didn’t rob anyone while we were out, despite John’s protests.”

He could feel the death glare from John without even looking at him.

“Good.” Susan said simply.

It wasn’t long before Arthur started nodding off, staring blankly into the campfire. Suddenly he felt John’s body slump towards him, the kid had passed out, and was leaned up against him, cheek planted firmly on Arthur’s shoulder. He gave a small sigh, deciding whether or not to wake the kid up.

He looked up to see Bessie grinning at the sight of them. Arthur only rolled his eyes, finally nudging John awake. “Come on, Marston. Time for bed.”

John jolted upwards. “Huh? Oh, uh. Yeah.” He wiped the drool from his face, getting to his feet.

Arthur stood too, giving a nod to Bessie and Susan. “Goodnight, Mrs. Matthews, Ms. Grimshaw.”

“Goodnight, pumpkin.” Bessie returned with another cheeky grin.

“Night, boys.” Replied Susan.

John gave them a little wave before turning and trudging towards their tent. Arthur ducked in after John, sitting down on his cot and taking his boots off. Then removing his jacket, gunbelt, and hat. John had done the same, already crawling under the blankets on his cot.

Finally alone with his thoughts, he pulled his journal from his satchel, opening up to the next empty page. Arthur wasn’t feeling up to writing, but a drawing did come to mind. He found the idea of John running for his life from a coyote so amusing, he did his best to get it down on paper. After 20 minutes of working, he was satisfied with the quick gesture drawing he’d made. With one final line, he put his journal away and finally turned in for the night.

-»»»•«««-

John’s eyes blinked open slowly. Peaking over his shoulder he could see dim light filtering in through the tent flap, it must have been early morning. A quick look to the opposite side of the small space and he could see that Arthur was still there, fast asleep.

After fruitlessly trying to fall back asleep for a few minutes, John gave up. He shook his head and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Finally stretching and freeing himself from his blankets. He got changed quickly and quietly, Arthur was a light sleeper, and could be an enormous grump when woken up too early. So John took great care not to disturb him.

Once outside, camp was quiet. He half expected to still hear Hosea and Dutch arguing. But he was apparently the first one up. The sun was just rising when he looked towards the eastern horizon. It was almost funny to him that he was first awake, usually Susan or Arthur were the first ones up.

By all accounts he should have started the coffee, that’s what he was supposed to do as first up. But looking towards the horses he had another thought.

He silently walked towards Layla, whispering her name as he got closer to hopefully not startle her.

The big brown horse looked up, ears pointed forward as John approached. She turned and walked to him, greeting him with a nudge and a gentle snort.

“Morning, Layla.” John said, giving her a pat. “Let’s get that saddle on you and get out of here, quick. ‘Fore anyone wakes up.”

As if she got what he meant, she remained deathly silent as John began saddling her up, giving him no trouble as he tightened the straps. Usually she would puff her belly out a bit to keep the saddle from being too tight, but she didn’t today.

Satisfied, John went to mount up, then realized in his hurry how unprepared he was for his plan. He sighed, rushing quietly back to the tent.

John peeked in, Arthur was still sleeping, so he crept inside. Fast as he could without making noise, John gathered up a few things he thought he’d need from under his cot. Then wrote a small note, leaving the paper on the blankets.

When he made it back to his horse, there was still no sign of anybody else awake. John smiled to himself, excited to be getting out on his own for a while. But as he put his foot in a stirrup to swing himself onto his horse, he heard a familiar voice.

“The hell are you doing, Marston?” Arthur demanded.

John let the saddle go and turned quickly. Surprised by how close Arthur was already. “Nothing!” He replied, far too fast.

He saw those cold blue eyes narrow at him. John knew that look, he was absolutely busted. “Where you heading off to, kid?” Arthur asked, holding up the note John had just left.

“I . . . uh.” John stumbled over words in his brain. Finally spitting something out. “I just. I wanted to see that Yellowstone place.” He mumbled.

He saw Arthur’s face soften, and then his brother let out an enormous sigh. “Christ, John. You shouldn’t go up there alone.”

“And why not?” He shot back. “I’m old enough to do stuff on my own. Dutch and Hosea told me you used to go off on your own a lot when you were my age.”

“John.” Arthur stopped him. “I’ve read enough about that park to know how dangerous it can be. And I think you may just be dumb enough to fall in a geyser and die.”

John went to argue back then had to stop. “ . . . . a ‘geyser?’”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about.”

The teenager grumbled, looking down at the ground. “I just want to do something. I’m so bored, Arthur.”

He heard Arthur sigh again, then a long pause followed. “Alright.” He spoke up at last. “You can go.”

John’s head shot up quickly, the sudden smile on his face betraying the cool demeanor he was trying keep. “Wait, are you serious?” He said.

“Well you didn’t let me finish.” Arthur replied. “You can go, but I’m going with you.”

John’s smile faded and he groaned. “God damn it, really? I thought you hated ‘babysitting’ me anyway.”

Arthur crossed his arms and stood tall. “I think I may hate you turning up dead even more. It would be my ass on the line if that happened. Either I go with you, or you don’t go at all.”

John folded his arms too, kicking at a rock on the ground. After muttering for awhile, he finally spoke up. “Shit, alright. Fine. We both go.”

The teenager looked up in time to see that stupid grin on his older brother’s face. “Alright, we’ll leave in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll wait here for - ”

John didn’t get a chance to say much else before Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back towards camp. He tried to fight it for a few seconds, but it really was hopeless. Arthur was too strong. “Okay, okay!” John spat out. “I get it, I’ll come with you.”

Arthur let him go. “You know I’m not that dumb.”

“Worth a shot.” John grumbled.

“We need to tell Hosea where we’re going.”

“What if he doesn’t let us go?”

“Don’t see why he wouldn’t.” Arthur shrugged.

As they approached Hosea and Bessie’s tent, the flap opened and the man they were looking for stepped out. “I thought I was hearing you two argue. What is going on?”

Arthur nudged him. “Well, tell him, kid.”

Hosea looked at John expectantly.

“Uh, we’re gonna go up to that Yellowstone park north of here.”

Hosea’s eyebrows shot up for a moment before he resumed his usual collected expression. “Did you hear about a potential score there?”

Arthur answered for him. “Naw, the kid’s bored. And there’s nothing in Sweetwater. So we got jack shit to do unless you and Dutch need us for your scheme.”

Hosea smiled but shook his head. “The way things are going, don’t imagine we’ll be making much progress on that for a week or so. If you two really want to go, be my guest.”

“Alright.” Arthur nodded. “Probably be gone a couple weeks, I’ve read before the trails aren’t the best to get there.”

“We’ll be here.” Hosea replied. “You two have fun.”

Arthur pushed John forward. “Keep an eye on him while I get ready, would you?”

Hosea laughed. “Sure, I won’t let him sneak off without you.”

“Thanks.” Arthur replied, heading off towards their tent

With him gone, Hosea looked over to John. “You grab enough food for this little escapade?”

John sucked in a breath, realizing he’d grabbed nothing from the chuck wagon for the journey. “Uh . . .” Was all he could muster.

Hosea sighed. “Let’s grab you something now then.”

A few minutes later and John was loaded up with a sack full of dried goods and some canned food. “Try not to eat that all at once.” Hosea told him. “Be sure to hunt fresh game when you can. This food is more for emergencies, understand?”

“Of course I do, I’m not some dumb twelve-year-old.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Hosea grinned.

John frowned. “Now that ain’t fair.”

“Life ain’t ever been fair, John.” Hosea replied, still smiling. “But considering you forgot to grab food, I feel I am justified.”

The teenager could only grumble his response.

Hosea kept an eye on him as he went and loaded Layla’s saddlebags with the new supplies. “Now come here and make the coffee like you were supposed to.” Hosea called out as quiet as he could.

John sighed with his whole body, completely at a loss for how his plan got so out of his control.

He trudged back to the main campfire, seeing that Hosea had already done him the kindness of bringing the fire back to life with new kindling and logs. He refilled the coffee pot with water and added more ground beans, setting it by the fire to warm up.

About ten minutes later and Arthur was almost ready to go, he was dressed and putting the tack on his horse. At last joining them by the fire and pouring a cup of coffee. He drank it down after letting it cool a moment. “This got enough grit to be sand.” He said.

“Maybe time to clean the pot.” Hosea shrugged.

“Probably.” He looked to John. “You ready?”

“I was ready twenty minutes ago.” He replied.

Arthur snorted. “Well aren’t you prepared for once.”

“Of course I am.”

“Let’s get going then, kid.”

Hosea stood up. “You two stay safe, we don’t see you by the end of the month, we’ll come looking.”

Arthur nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“See you soon, Hosea.” John waved.

With that, the two of them mounted up, riding out of camp, the pink sunrise lighting their way.

- - - - -

A quick stop for directions in Granger had them riding the same road as they did the previous day, through Sweetwater, then the next town after by the name of ‘Marston.’ Which Arthur got a kick out of, but John found appalling.

From there they took the road north, following the Green River as far as the road would take them.

They remained on that same path for several days, stopping rarely. Arthur managed to catch them some animal almost every night for dinner. The night he brought in a coyote, John could tell he was making fun of him.

They chatted idly about the usual things as they went, or bickered about nonsense. But mostly they remained quiet as they trotted, cantered, and galloped through the ever changing landscape.

Over the course of a few days, the mountains in the distance became larger and larger, the arid environment becoming more green and forested. Until they were right up against the base of mountains themselves.

The road and river came to a stop, and they were forced to navigate themselves. That night at the campfire, Arthur studied the map of Wyoming he’d bought in Granger.

John looked over his shoulder, staring at all the different geography, lines, and tiny words.

Arthur pointed to a spot on the map on the western half, directly below a large range of mountains that stretched to the north. “We should be about here.” He said.

“How much further to Yellowstone then?” John cocked his head and looked closer.

“Few more days I’d say.” He pointed down the map a ways. “Here’s Granger, camp is just a few minutes south of it.” Then he pointed up towards the Northwestern corner of the state. “And here’s Yellowstone. We’re a little over the halfway point between the two it looks like.”

John sighed and sat back down on the opposite side of the fire. “Dunno why I thought it would be closer.”

Arthur snorted. “Maybe because you didn’t bother to check a map before you came up with this idea.”

“Can you really blame me for wanting to get away for awhile? You do it all the time. Be gone for a month and come back.”

There was a strange heaviness to Arthur’s voice when he spoke. “I probably won’t be doing that anymore, John.”

The weight of his voice took John by surprise, and he wished greatly in that moment that he could see Arthur’s face, but he was hidden behind the map. “Oh . . . alright.” Was all John could seem to say.

Arthur exhaled. “We better get some rest, kid. I think I see a decent way up to the park. We’ll take this valley as far as it lets us, then we’ll have to traverse our way through a couple mountains, but that should take us directly into the park.”

John nodded. “Thanks . . . uh . . . for navigating I mean.”

Arthur folded the map forward, one brow raised as he stared at John. “Starting to sound like you’re glad I’m here.” He teased, a grin growing on his face.

The teenager scowled. “No - I . . . Shut up.”

Arthur laughed as he stood and folded the map up, putting it away in his satchel. “We’ll be leaving early in the morning. Good night, kid.”

John got to his feet too. He sighed. “Night, Arthur.”

- - - - -

Arthur hadn’t been kidding about getting up early. John was awoken the next morning to Arthur kicking him. Not a hard kick, but enough to make John jolt upright.

Camp was packed up quickly, and they were back on the road again. The way was less obvious to John as they continued their journey the following couple days. But Arthur seemed confident. He always had a knack for navigation, almost like he had a map and compass in his head.

They found themselves in a beautiful green valley by the name of Jackson’s Hole with huge mountains on either side. The Teton range to their west according to Arthur. In his short life, John had traveled a vast amount of the country with the gang. But he couldn’t help but take in the beauty of this valley.

It was a long stretch of land, taking about a day and a half to run the length of, but Arthur told them once they passed Jackson’s Lake, they’d be within spitting distance of the park.

By midday, the lake was behind them, and they began riding through the mountains. John felt full of anticipation. If Arthur was correct, they were nearly there. They stopped rarely, once so Arthur could pick up the deer he’d spotted and quickly dispatched for their dinner that night.

As the day continued, John was a little disappointed when Arthur stopped them to make camp at sundown. He found them a nice flat area up against a plateau near a river to set up. “Thinking we’re in the park now.” His brother said simply.

“So we’re not gonna look around?” John asked.

Arthur cocked a brow and stared at him. “How we gonna look around when we can’t see shit, John?”

“I dunno, we just come all this way, and we’re here, and we gotta stop?”

He sighed. “I understand, kid. You’re excited. But you’ll get more out of it when it’s daylight and we can see everything.”

John hated that he was right. As usual. “Fine.” He said, then after a pause. “Are you going to cook up that deer?”

“Why else you think I shot it?” Arthur laughed.

“I was just asking!”

“Yeah, I’ll get it cooking. You set up the tent.”

“You sure you want me to do that? You complained about it almost falling down last time.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I can’t do everything, boy. Put up the tent, just drive the stakes in deeper this time.”

He complained the whole time, but soon enough, the tent was up, John very sarcastically hammering the stakes even after they were well into the ground. In annoyance, Arthur threw a slab of half cooked venison at him. Eventually though, they settled down and ate their dinner, talking for awhile before finally turning in for the night.

John fell asleep hoping this whole trip would actually be worth it.

-»»»•«««-

Arthur decided he should let John sleep in when he woke up early that morning. He’d been pushing them pretty hard to get to the park in a fairly short amount of time. The kid needed as much rest as he could get, considering he barely ate any food.

In the meantime, he built the fire back up and cooked up some more meat from the deer he’d caught. He left a few pieces for John, then got coffee going in the kettle. With that taken care of, he stood and stretched deeply, looking off a ways towards where they’d left the horses.

He saw Artemisia and Layla exactly where they were supposed to be, saddles off and grazing lazily. Arthur greeted them softly as he approached, both of them perking up and coming to him. He gave them a few pats before brushing them down one at a time.

He couldn’t help but talk sweetly to them as he went. “You two both did such a good job.” He whispered to Artemisia, brushing the dust from her dapple buckskin coat. “Bringing us all the way up here in such good time.”

Then he looked to Layla. “And you did great bringing John all this way, despite how much he must squirm in that saddle he hates.”

She snorted her response.

Arthur grinned. “Alright, come on you two, let’s get to the river for a drink.” He led them down towards the river not far from this plateau they’d ended up at. He refilled his canteen and let the horses drink their fill.

Glancing around, Arthur saw very little signs of human life. There were animals, yes. But if there were any other people in this park, he sure as shit wasn’t seeing them.

When they returned to camp, John was finally up. He was warming himself by the fire and yawning heavily. “Morning, Arthur.” John greeted in that rough voice he’d developed.

“Morning, John.” Arthur returned. “You eat yet?”

“No.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He should have figured. “Well eat some of that meat I prepared and drink some coffee, we should tear down camp soon.”

“Yeah, alright.” John spoke as he yawned again.

Arthur poured himself some coffee then went and got the horses saddled. John wasn’t exaggerating much when it came to his saddle. It was pretty worn down. A lot of that could be attributed to John’s own personal neglect, but not all. He did need a new one.

They packed up camp, and mounted up. Arthur could see John trying to hide the smile on his face. Arthur had to hold in a laugh, he really was a teenager.

“Which way we going?” John asked as they started off.

“Thought maybe we’d go see Yellowstone lake, which on this map is about the middle of the park, then go from there.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

The scenery was beautiful as they traveled. Vast green hills and plateaus, mountains all around them, pine trees spread about, rivers and streams snaked their way through the landscape. There were deer everywhere, pronghorn and elk too. Arthur wondered about potential herds of bison as well.

After riding for awhile, John spoke up again. “Sure ain’t seen no ‘rainbow colored pools’ yet.” There was noticeable disappointment in his voice

“I’m sure we’ll find them eventually, we just started looking.”

“I dunno.” He replied. “Kinda just looks like any other part of the region. Can’t see what’s so special abou-”

As if on cue, John was interrupted by a sudden fountain of water bursting from the Earth. An enormous stream, growing rapidly to at least 50 feet high.

Arthur pulled back on his reins, stopping Artemisia as she startled, trying to keep her in place. John appeared to be doing the same with Layla, the generally calm horse whinnying loudly and rearing up.

“What in the god damn hell is that!” John yowled.

As Arthur got his mare under control he laughed. “That, is a geyser, John.”

“Holy shit . . .” He said in awe. He fumbled for words, finally just ending up on one. “How?”

Arthur shrugged, the fountain of steaming water still shooting into the sky. “I have no idea. I ain’t smart enough to know.”

With their horses calmed, they watched the eruption in amazement as it lasted upwards of fifteen minutes. Something about seeing the wonder in John’s expression made Arthur happy. It seemed impossible to get the kid excited about anything other than robbing.

When it finally died down, John tore his eyes away and looked at Arthur. “We gotta get a closer look at that hole it came from.”

“John, no. This is exactly what I meant when I said you’d get yourself killed up here.”

But it seemed John had made up his mind, ignoring what Arthur said and riding Layla out towards the protruding mound in the earth.

“John!” Arthur shouted. Annoyed, he followed after the fool.

John had dismounted and was cautiously touching the mound, before peering inside. “It don’t look like nothing special. Kinda like a giant anthill almost.”

Arthur rode up next to him. “Get away from there you idiot, the water that comes out of there is boiling hot.”

“Hold on, Arthur.” He said, finding a nearby stick and tossing it in. Apparently disappointed when nothing happened, he threw a few more things in.

“Cut that out, you shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” John asked. “Maybe it’ll go off again if I do.”

“We don’t want it to go off again if you’re right next to it. Anyway I don’t think that’s how it works. Now come on.”

John grumbled but finally listened, getting back on Layla and following after him. When they were back up the hill a ways, John looked around. “Are there more of those geyser things around here?”

“I’ve read there’s more than a hundred.”

John’s eyes lit up “We gotta find them all.”

“I don’t think we have time for that, we only have a few days before we start heading back.”

The kid sighed. “Alright, well. Let’s keep moving then.”

Arthur nodded.

They continued along what seemed to be a human made trail of some kind, traveling through a forest of beautiful pine trees. After awhile a foul smell hit them, growing stronger and stronger as they moved along.

John looked around for a source, finally settling on Arthur. “You didn’t fart, did you?”

Arthur glared at him. “Was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“That sure as shit ain’t me. Must have been you.”

“How the hell is it me?”

“I smelled your farts before, this is the same thing, like rotten eggs.”

“I may be a foul, mean bastard but not even I’m capable of making a stink this bad.”

“You sure about that?”

“John you say it’s me one more time and I will come over there and rip you off that horse.”

John threw his hands in the air. “Christ, okay.”

The smell continued to grow as they kept going. Until they started seeing fog or steam of some kind rising from the ground.

John perked up as he noticed it. “That another one of them water fountain things?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Geyser?” He corrected.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I dunno, John. Keep your distance until we find out.”

Once again, Arthur should have known better as John ignored what he said and took off towards the source without him.

“God damn it.” The exasperated older brother muttered as he followed after.

He caught up to John fairly quickly. Artemisia being a faster horse than Layla. The ever-present smell of rotten eggs only grew stronger as they got closer to the rising steam, until finally they broke through the trees and it was revealed to them. A huge stretch of water, of all sorts of colors. Red, orange, yellow, turquoise, blue, creating a beautiful prismatic ring around what could only be a massive hot spring in the earth.

With their horses at a stop. John stared out at the water. “I guess we found the rainbow pool.” He said, awed once more.

“And the source of that smell.” Arthur added.

John tore his eyes away to look at Arthur with confusion written all over his face. “The smell? How could something so beautiful smell so god awful?”

Arthur laughed and shook his head. “Nature is weird, kid.”

John dismounted and got closer to the edge of the water, crouching down next to the shore.

Arthur sat up straight. “Don’t touch that!” He snapped.

John looked over his shoulder at him, one brow raised. “It’s just water Arthur, what’s it gonna do?”

“Burn the shit out of you, can’t you feel that heat? It’s a hot spring.”

“You said the same bullshit about the geyser and it didn’t burn me either.”

“John.” Arthur warned.

But it fell on deaf ears, as John reached a hand out towards the water. An inevitable yowl followed as the teenager leaped to his feet, shaking his scalded hand. “Holy shit that hurts!”

“What did I just say you god damn moron.” Arthur said, irritation rising in his voice.

John opened his mouth to talk back, but it was clear he had no defense, quickly clamping it shut again.

“Get away from there. At this rate you’re gonna fall in.”

Finally, John listened, moving away from the edge and mounting back up on Layla. Once in the saddle, he went back to holding his burned hand, shaking it occasionally.

“Least I don’t gotta worry about your dumb ass jumping in the water and trying to swim in there.”

John’s head turned quickly, expression going from hurt to offended. “You making fun of the fact that I can’t swim now too?”

Arthur smiled, doing his best to make light of the situation. “Any opportunity I can, Marston.”

“I’ve heard of people swimming in hot springs though.” John said.

Arthur shrugged. “Some are hotter than others I guess, I’m pretty sure the majority of the ones around here are hot enough to kill you if you try that.”

John looked at his hand. “Found that out . . .” He muttered.

“Why you think I didn’t want you coming up here by yourself?”

“I would’ve been fine.” John replied, defiant.

“Sure kid, sure.” Arthur grinned. “We should keep our distance, but keep looking around the area for more of these springs. Probably some geysers around here too.”

Staying well away from the edge of the basin, they wandered for hours, finding more prismatic springs deep into the earth with intense steam rising from each of them. The smell never truly faded, almost impossible to go nose blind to, it was so powerful. Several dead trees dotted the area, bright green moss growing on the withered branches. There were few animals in the area, likely sensing how deadly the hot springs could be.

Eventually, they left the area, off to find more oddities in the park. Seeing a few more geysers along the way, although only one went off while they were near it. It took less convincing now to keep John at bay after being scalded, but there was still that wonderment and mischievous gleam in his eye that kept Arthur just a tad worried.

Once the sun began setting, Arthur set out on the mission of finding a decent campsite. Seeing a nice ridge near another stream they could potentially camp up against.

However, this was quickly thwarted when John spotted a bull moose. They kept their distance and watched it graze for awhile, wondering if it would move on. Then it escalated even further when Arthur noticed a large grizzly bear walking steadily towards the enormous creature.

“Should we . . . stay and watch this?” John asked, wide-eyed.

“I’m not . . . I’m not entirely sure.” He answered honestly.

“I kinda want to see what happens.”

“ . . . Me too.” Arthur admitted. “Let’s back up under some tree cover for now I guess.”

John nodded.

Once they were in a slightly more hidden position, they watched in fascination as the bull moose finally noticed the approaching bear. Apparently unfazed. He just kept his head up and focused on the grizzly. But as the bear got closer, the moose lowered his head, that massive rack of horns ready to charge, making a warning sound. The bear let out a roar and charged him.

It was a surprisingly short lived fight, as the bear got gored and knocked around a few too many times, the moose entirely unharmed.  The grizzly whimpered and let out several pathetic sounds as it cowered and ran away. The moose immediately went back to grazing, blood and bear fur clung to his large antlers.

“That was unexpected.” John whispered.

“Bear must have been a juvenile to pull something that dumb.” Arthur added.

“I don’t think I want to camp near that moose.”

Arthur held in a laugh. “Me neither, let’s find somewhere else.”

The sun was much lower by the time they found a new spot far from the encounter with the moose and bear. But it was a decent, well-hidden clearing within a grove of pine trees.

They ate the remaining venison Arthur had prepared that morning. As they settled down to sleep for the night, in the distance they could hear the howls of wolves. Their songs echoed amongst the mountains. He had to assume they’d be safe from them, plenty of their natural prey in the park to choose from, there was no reason to come after a couple humans.

By the light of their one lantern, Arthur pulled his journal out. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then he began to write.

Little Johnny’s gone and turned eighteen on us. Seems like just yesterday we saved his scrawny ass from being hanged. So much has changed, and yet so much has stayed the same. He’s still a scrawny little shit, but he does actually talk some sense every once and awhile now.

But he is a dumb teenager. He tried to sneak off to see that strange park, Yellowstone, up in Northern Wyoming. I’d read about it a few times before. Enough to know he shouldn’t go there alone. So now here I am playing babysitter as usual. I really shouldn’t pretend I’m not enjoying myself. This place is so strange and fascinating. Wish I were smarter so I knew what was going on here.

Much as I like to tease him, I really do care about John. After losing Isaac and his mother. I know now more than ever I have to be there for the people I care about and love. I want to make them happy, and this little trip sure seems to have made the kid happy.

-»»»•«««-

John was awoken by the sound of several voices, for a moment he thought he was back in camp with Hosea, Bessie, Susan, and Dutch. But soon the fog of sleep left him, and he knew where he was.

Quickly poking his head out from the tent, he spotted Arthur talking to a couple men in military uniforms it looked like. John went wide-eyed, this didn’t seem like it could be a good thing, he’d always been weary of police officers or army men.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

Arthur looked over his shoulder. “Oh, John, you’re awake.”

One of the men glanced his way. “Just talking to your brother about what you two are doing up here.”

“Ain’t we allowed to be here?” John questioned.

“It’s not that.” The man said. “We found a camp nearby with a lot of dead animals. Poachers, most like. We’re trying to track them down.”

Arthur gave John a nod. “They thought we might be them at first.”

The second man spoke. “Don’t see how you two boys could have done that, so you’re fine. But if you do see anything suspicious, please find one of us, or find the army base up by mammoth springs and let us know.”

A few more pleasantries were exchanged before the men got back up on their horses and left.

John saw Arthur let out a noticeable sigh of relief once they were finally gone.

“Army? Up here?” John asked.

Arthur shrugged. “Guess they’re the ones overseeing the park right now. Sounds like poaching became such a problem they had to be put in charge.”

John couldn’t help but let out a stress laugh. “I’ll be honest, that scared the shit out of me.”

“You and me both.”

Their sudden, stressful encounter behind them, the two of them had a quick breakfast and coffee, then packed camp once more. Setting out again for the day. There were a lot more hot springs, animals, and geysers along the way. After wandering further north, they eventually came across what could only be described as a large, boiling pit of mud, a similar foul smell to the hot springs from the previous day.

John stared in disbelief. “What . . .”

“You gotta stop asking me. I have no idea.” Arthur replied, blank look on his face.

After a long pause of simply staring at it, John spoke. “ . . . I wanna throw sticks in it.”

He saw Arthur turn his head and glare for a second before he raised his brow and thought about it. “Yeah, okay.” He shrugged.

They spent the next half hour throwing rocks and sticks in the boiling mud like a couple of little kids. Laughing as they watched them sink or float. The mud making extremely satisfying sounds as the objects hit. But, eventually they got bored and moved on.

Wandering westward, they came across a big, open field with a river cutting through it, the large Yellowstone lake to their south, it was another beautiful piece of land. But what really caught their eyes was the massive herd of bison doting the hills in the distance. There had to be several thousand of them.

“Damn.” He heard Arthur mutter.

John glanced over. “What is it?”

Arthur seemed to snap back to his senses. “Oh, uh. Well I just ain’t ever seen a herd of bison that big before. I heard there used to be groups that enormous all over the country. Now they’re nearly extinct.”

John frowned. “Guess it’s good they’re trying to prevent poaching here then, huh?”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Seems to be the only worthwhile thing I’ve ever seen the army do.” He paused. “Though I wouldn’t put it past the army to have been among the people hunting them to near extinction in the first place.”

They dared creep closer to the big animals, while still keeping a respectful distance. John was almost amused by how enthralled Arthur seemed to be. Leaned forward in his saddle, watching the big goofy animals as they rolled around on their backs, butted heads, and grazed. There appeared to be a few calves amongst the herd, their coats a bright, light tan color, compared to their parents of a deep brown.

As they sat there, John lit up a cigarette with the fresh pack of matches he’d brought from camp. He was bored of watching the bison, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to bug Arthur to leave, like he normally would have. It was almost like in that moment John knew more about his brother than he had before. The way he was so enthralled with nature and the wild.

Try as he might to hide it, Arthur did eventually pick up on John’s boredom, and he led them away to explore more, heading further north this time.

They spent a few days like this. Wandering all over the park, seeing the strange hot springs, geysers, a few more boiling pits of mud, all kinds of animals, and even at one point petrified trees. Yet another thing Arthur couldn’t explain to John.

Along the way they passed a carriage full of a few curious visitors. The only human contact other than the army they’d seen. Soon after seeing the carriage, they saw the army encampment the men had mentioned a few days prior.

But a ways beyond the encampment was one of the most incredible springs they’d seen yet. It was almost like a waterfall of stone. With the water trickling down countless beautiful yellow, orange, and white limestone steps. This was Mammoth Hot Springs.

It was one of the last places they visited before Arthur reluctantly told John it was time for them to leave and head back for camp.

John could have spent another week there, it was nice and peaceful. Other than a bit of teasing, and Arthur trying to keep John from getting himself killed, for once he felt he wasn’t constantly butting heads with his older brother. They were simply out there enjoying the strange and beautiful nature, awed by things they’d never seen or believed existed. He almost didn’t even notice how much his saddle bothered him the whole time, simply too amazed to think about it.

The return home seemed quicker, probably because Arthur knew the way now more than he did before. By the time they reached Sweetwater again, John was out of cigarettes. He considered going back into the saloon and seeing if he could nab a pack off the same drunken idiot as last time.

This thought process was interrupted by Arthur. “Hey, John. I ordered something at the leatherworker by the stable last time we was in town. I think it should be done by now.”

“Yeah?” John replied.

“You mind going in and getting it?”

John sighed. “Why I gotta do it?”

Arthur snorted. “Just go do it.”

After nearly three weeks of non-stop riding, John was at this point just too tired to fight. So he rolled his eyes and said “Fine.”

He grinned. “Thanks, kid. It’ll be under your name.”

John looked at him confused for a moment, but didn’t question it. He hitched Layla outside the stable while Arthur waited on Artemisia. The smell of leather and hide was the first thing that hit John when he walked inside. Which shouldn’t have been surprising.

An older man up front greeted him. “Hey there son, what can I do ya for?”

“My brother sent me in here to pick something up that he ordered a couple weeks back? It’s under my name apparently.”

The man nodded. “Alright, and your name?”

“Oh, uh. John Marston.”

“Oh, yes.” His face lit up. “Your brother spent some good money on this one, but I’m very proud of how it came out. Some of my better work.” He turned towards the back room. “I’ll be right out with it.”

John waited a couple minutes before the man returned holding a gorgeous new saddle, with intricate floral decals and shining brass star grommets. John stared in awe as it was set down on the counter. Almost annoyed that Arthur had gone and gotten himself a new saddle. But as he looked it over he quickly noticed one more detail. The initials “J.M” were monogramed into the leather.

The saddle was for him.

After thanking the shopkeep, he carried it outside, along with the matching bridle it came with. Arthur smiled widely when he saw him. “So, kid. What do you think?”

“It’s . . .” John did his best to contain his emotions. Trying to stay cool and collected. “It’s real nice, Arthur.”

But Arthur must have seen how hard he was trying to keep himself bottled up. “Happy Birthday, John. Was about time you got yourself a new saddle. Hey, and this way, you’ll never forget how to spell your name!”

John glared at Arthur through the mist in his eyes for half a second, before turning away and carefully setting the new saddle on the ground. Already going and taking his old, beaten down one off Layla. Once the new saddle was properly on her back, he traced his fingers over the initials. “Thank you, Arthur. I mean it.” He said. “For the saddle . . . and for going with me.”

As John turned around to look at him, he saw that rare, genuine warm smile. Something he hadn’t seen on Arthur in a long, long time. “It’s no problem, kid. I was happy to.”

John smiled back, before turning around. He took the old saddle into the leatherworker’s shop. Selling it for a measly twenty-five cents. Once back outside, he gleefully mounted up onto the new saddle. Far more comfortable, and much more fitting for the adult he was trying to be.

With the sun setting, they set out for camp once more. It had certainly been a couple of weeks John would never forget. They had plenty of stories to tell the gang when they got back. And he was looking forward to it.

Notes: I did try and do a lot of research for this, to hopefully portray realistically how the park might have been at the time. I haven't been to Yellowstone in nearly 10 years now. So a lot of this isn't entirely accurate, and I definitely took some artistic liberties.

I really enjoyed writing this, but it turned out far longer than I expected, so I hope it flows well enough.

Also, I'm not condoning throwing stuff into geysers and hot springs. That is actually a super bad idea, so many geysers are now inactive because people did that in the past. They are really delicate actually. There were no boardwalks or park rangers or much of anything in the park at the time this takes place, so the boys were able to get away with a lot of dangerous things that probably should have killed them! Anyway, that's it for my PSA

Thank you for reading!

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #rdr #rdr2 fic #hosea matthews #susan grimshaw #bessie matthews #rdr secret santa 2020 #secret santa #red dead brodemption #my writing #my uploads #fic #one shot #this turned out SO long #i'm sorry it took me such a long time to get it done for you! #i hope you like it though <3

[prairiemule]

I’ve finally finished and uploaded the most recent chapter of The Broken Jewel! 

Basically this fic is a story revolving around young Arthur and John in 1887 as they try and solve a mystery around the fictional town of Jewel, Colorado

Here is a bit from the newest chapter:

He scanned the herd, a few were drinking from the nearby creek, others were milling about and eating the lush grass. John considered going for the biggest buck he could find in the field, but had to think against it. If he didn’t hit a vital spot, this repeater wasn’t powerful enough to down a large buck in one shot, but maybe there was a smaller doe he could get more easily.

Finally John decided, he had a good angle and clear shot on the doe closest to them, she was drinking steadily from the stream, making it easier to line up a shot. He used the scope like Arthur had instructed earlier, trying not to get it too close to his eye, otherwise it might smack him in the head when he fired.

As he scoped in on her, she looked up once, staring at the two of them. John held his breath, convinced she was about to run. But, after a few seconds she went right back down to drinking.

“John.” Arthur said softly, breaking him from his trance. “Remember to breathe.”

He exhaled finally, “Right.”

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan #john marston #my writing #my uploads #red dead brodemption #fic #i managed to post this on the one year anniversary of the first chapter lmao #wow 4 chapters a year #i'm really killing it #that's sarcasm

[prairiemule]

Geez, John. Stop getting so aggravated.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #rdr #video #my gameplay #my uploads #red dead brodemption #sometimes you just gotta pick on your little brother

[prairiemule]

I wasn’t talking to you, John!

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #karen jones #mary-beth gaskill #rdr #red dead brodemption #video #my gameplay #my uploads #the initial greet was treated as a general hello to the group at the campfire #which is why john says hi #but it's still fucking funny to me

[prairiemule]

Snow, Splints, and Sarsaparilla - RDR2 One Shot

Yeehawgust Day 17 - Sarsaparilla

Characters: John Marston, Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews, Bessie Matthews, Susan Grimshaw, Dutch Van der Linde

Words: 2,526

Summary: In the dead of winter, a young and foolish John Marston takes a hard fall. But Arthur and the rest of his new found family are there to help him out.

AO3: Link

•••••

John sat and waited, his skinny body shivering in the cold, but he was stubborn and persistent. Arthur would have to come through this way to get back to camp. He’d been up in this tree, freezing his ass off for at least an hour now. It had snowed the past week, but today was mercifully clear. They might actually get to go into town soon, get some real food. The kid was always so hungry nowadays.

“He’d better come back with a big buck.” John grumbled to no one. “Should have taken me with.”

He waited another good twenty minutes, until finally, far in the distance, he saw a figure on the pristine white trail. Slowly ambling their way towards him, Arthur and his big Roadster mare kicked through the thick sheet of snow, back through the same tracks they’d made on their exit out. As they got closer, John realized Arthur wasn’t riding her, he was leading her. Artemisia’s back had two large carcasses, one taking up his saddle seat, no room for the man himself.

John stayed perfectly still as the young man walked beneath his tree, head ducked low and holding his hat, perhaps to prevent the glare from the snow getting in his eyes.

With them past him, John turned, trying to see what kind of game Arthur had brought them, his stomach complaining from days of nothing but canned beans. But the change in position caused John to lose his balance, falling backwards off the branch he’d been perched on for so long. The kid was unable to catch himself, his body stiff and slowed from the cold.

He couldn’t help but yowl as he plummeted, managing a flailing backflip, but landing on his ankle in a bad way, collapsing into the snow. The still fresh top layer of snow poofed up around him as he hit the ground. In shock from the fall, John simply laid there, groaning as tears began to well.

Up the trail, he heard Arthur swear, then the sound of crunching snow as the man rushed to his side. “Christ, Marston. What the hell are you doing?”

John looked up, his cheek even colder now from having been pressed into the snow. “I fell.” He whimpered.

Arthur scoffed. “That much is obvious, why were you in a tree? What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

John sniffed. “I was just waiting for you.”

The kid saw Arthur’s expression soften for but a moment. “Well get up then, we’re going back to camp.”

He shook his head. “I-I don’t think, it hurts, I don’t think I can stand.”

“Come on, you’re fine, you can walk it off.” Arthur grabbed him under the armpits and hefted him to his feet, as if he were made of paper.

But as soon as Arthur let him go and John put weight on his ankle, he cried out, collapsing back into the snow. Another puff of powdery snow erupting around him.

“Shit.” Arthur muttered. Crouching next to him again. “You really are hurt.”

The boy looked up again, now the worry on the young man’s face was obvious. “I wasn’t lying.” John said, tears welling up again.

“Shit . . . okay . . . this might hurt.” Arthur grabbed his ankle, surprisingly gentle, pulling off John’s boot. The kid couldn’t bring himself to look at the damage. “Doesn’t seem broken.” Arthur informed him after peeling back the sock a bit. “Maybe you sprained it.”

John finally peaked, seeing his ankle not snapped in half like it felt, looking fairly normal, but very red. “What are we going to do?”

Arthur looked around. “I don’t got anything with me, I don’t-” He paused and shook his head, staying silent for several moments. “Alright, hold this.” Arthur handed John the boot. Then, one arm under his back, and the other below his knees, Arthur scooped him up.

For a brief moment John wanted to squirm as he usually did when Arthur grabbed him, but then he was hit with how much warmth Arthur was putting off, and couldn’t help but curl in closer. The man always seemed to give off heat like a wood stove. But then that was immediately interrupted by how much his ankle hurt, and he was reminded that he needed the help.

Arthur started walking, calling Artemisia to follow him, and based on the rhythmic heavy crunching through the snow behind them, she was. “Hold on, Johnny. We’re close to camp.” Arthur said, picking up the pace, then breaking into a lumbering run.

It was jostling and a bit rough, but John figured he’d take the little bumps of pain if it meant getting back to the warmth of camp quicker. He was worried Arthur would slip, or fall himself, it was difficult to see the ground and avoid hazards. But the young man only stumbled a few times, always catching himself. And they were back in camp within a few minutes.

“Hosea! Bessie!” Arthur called out as he slowed down to a steady walk. “Susan! Dutch!”

Voices followed, and the first one to appear was Bessie, out from the tent she shared with Hosea. Rushing up to them, pulling a scarf over her face. “What happened?” She looked down at John. “Is he okay? Where did you find him?”

“Fool was up a tree.” Arthur replied, out of breath. His heavy exhales visible in the intense cold. “He fell, hurt his ankle.”

“I was just waiting for you.” John whimpered again.

“That aside.” Arthur said. “He can’t stand, what should we do?”

Bessie put a gloved hand on John’s forehead, brushing the dark strands from his face. Then she looked up at Arthur. “You ran all the way back here? Is Artemisia okay too?”

Arthur looked over his shoulder, then back. “She’s fine, over with the others. I just . . . I didn’t know if I should leave the deer and bring John instead, but we need the food, so I just-”

“It’s alright, Arthur. You did fine.” She pat his shoulder. “Go put him in your tent, I’ll grab Susan and some medical supplies.”

Arthur nodded, making his way past the roaring campfire and ducking into their tent. John was placed, gently again, down on his cot. Arthur sat opposite him on his own bed, catching his breath.

It wasn’t ten seconds later that Dutch peaked in. “Bessie told us, I’m sure he’ll be okay. We need you to get those deer you brought back dressed and ready to butcher.”

Arthur looked up. “But I -”

Dutch shook his head. “Food’s important too Arthur, he’ll be fine.”

“Alright, Dutch.” With a sigh and a nod, Arthur stood and left.

With the young man gone, Dutch moved in completely, crouching next to the cot and taking John’s hand. “You’ll be just fine, Bessie and Susan will make sure of it. You’ll be back on your feet in time.”

John nodded.

With a squeeze, Dutch let go and left too.

The kid laid there for a few minutes, rubbing his ankle, trying to ignore the pain. He was still cold, but doing better than before. Soon enough, Susan and Bessie ducked into the tent. They’d brought in a few large, flat stones wrapped in fabric. Having been heated by the campfire, they were placed under the thin mattress, helping to warm John up.

The two of them looked his ankle over over. Susan piped up. “Well, Arthur wasn’t wrong, it’s not broken.”

John let out a sigh of relief.

“We still need to set it though.” Bessie added.

The sigh turned to a groan.

Susan playfully smacked John on the arm. “Nothing to worry about, it’ll help you heal faster. Just won’t be climbing trees for a few weeks.”

Bessie laughed. “It’s going to keep him from doing chores too.”

“Ha. Not that Mr. Marston here does any to begin with.” Susan teased.

“Not that I ever can.” John grumbled. “Arthur does everything.”

“Not everything.” Susan replied. “We could use some help with sewing or cleaning.”

“There’s always things to do, John.” Bessie agreed. “But that’s besides the point, we’ll get you set.”

A few minutes later, and John’s sprained ankle was set in a splint. Then they buried him in many, many layers of blankets and furs. So many that it was almost difficult to move. But all of which he was thankful for. Finally beginning to feel warm for the first time the whole day. That feeling was soon overshadowed by how much his ankle still throbbed and pained him.

After Susan left, Bessie stayed behind, soon joined by Hosea who gave him a smile. “Had yourself a tumble, John?”

“Yeah . . .”

“You’re lucky Arthur was there to bring you back, be careful out there, alright? We didn’t even know you’d left.”

“Sorry.” John replied softly.

“I’m sure they told you, but you’re going to need to keep that splint on for a couple weeks to be safe. And stay off that ankle as much as you can.”

John felt a bit restless already. “I’m gonna be so bored.”

Hosea laughed. “I suppose this means you won’t be able to escape your reading lessons.”

The kid groaned again. “It’s too hard!”

“It would be less difficult if you’d stay and pay attention. You’ll only get better at reading.”

John grumbled and didn’t reply for a few minutes. The pain in his ankle still driving him crazy. “ . . . How long is it going to hurt for?” He finally asked.

The man smiled again, looking over to Bessie. “Look at him trying to change the subject.”

“It’s a valid question, Hosea.” She replied, then turned to John. “It’s going to be sore awhile, but hopefully the worst of the pain will be gone in a couple days.”

“Okay.” John replied, voice gone quiet. Then he spoke loudly. “I’m starving.”

“I think we all are.” Hosea laughed. “Arthur got a couple scrawny deer for us, probably full of shotgun shells, but it’s food.”

Bessie snorted. “He’ll get better at it some day.”

After a few more minutes, the two of them headed out. “Get your rest now, John.” Bessie told him.

John tried, but felt restless. So he simply sat there and listened.

–»»»•«««–

He couldn’t help but worry about the kid. Always his shadow. Like some kind of lost puppy. It was annoying, especially at first, but Arthur knew what that was like deep down. He’d been in a similar place at that age.

Arthur had just finished with the first carcass when Hosea found him. The older man looked his work over. “Oh my, you’ve made a mess haven’t you.”

Offended, Arthur stood up straight, hands bloody and cold, looking back at Hosea. “I’m doing the best I can. Barely anything out there.”

“Yes, but a shotgun?”

“Didn’t want them running on me.” Arthur grumbled. “Wanted to be sure we had something sooner than later.”

“Well, your heart was in the right place.” Hosea approached him. “Here, let me do the rest, I’ll get it done quicker anyway.”

“No, Hosea, I got it.” Arthur insisted. “Already got my hands dirty.”

“How about instead, you go get that sarsaparilla Susan’s been heating up, go give it to John.”

“Sarsaparilla?” Arthur exclaimed, brows scrunched in confusion. “Ain’t that for syphili-”

“Quiet now.” Hosea interrupted. “It’s the only thing we had left. Besides, it’s something of a cure-all they say.”

Arthur scoffed. “You’re the one who tells me most them ‘cure-all home remedies’ are full of shit.”

“Yes, but there’s some good to sarsaparilla, helps with swelling. Which will be good for John’s sprain.” Hosea took the knife from Arthur’s hand. “So go wash your hands, and take it to John. Besides, I know you’re worried about him.”

“No I ain’t.” Arthur shot back, too quickly.

Hosea smiled at him. “Sure, Arthur. Worried or not, go do it.”

“Fine.” Arthur huffed, turning to go find the wash barrel they’d kept near the fire. Cleaning his hands off as best he could and drying them before the cold air could bite too hard.

Susan was crouched nearby, using a stick to drag a bottle away from the edge of the fire.

“Why’re you doing that?” Arthur asked.

“It was frozen solid, Mr. Morgan.” She said simply. “And now it’s not.” Using a very thick glove, she picked the bottle up and dropped it into some snow several feet away. “Go grab a coffee cup, would you? Don’t want John burning himself on this glass. Even cooling it down like this, I know he’d find a way.”

Arthur nodded. “Of course.” He grabbed one from the clean pile at the chuck wagon, then gave it to Susan.

She popped the top from the glass bottle, pouring it into the metal cup. She pushed the cup back into Arthur’s hands. “I was going to take it to him, but sounds like Hosea wants you to.” Then she smiled at him. “I know you’re concerned for him.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “I am not.”

Susan only laughed, returning to her tent. Back to whatever she had been doing before the two young fools interrupted the afternoon camp life.

Left in the cold with a cup of hot sarsaparilla in his hands, Arthur sighed. He made his way over to his tent, ducking inside. He saw John, under an absurd pile of quilts and furs, staring blankly into space. “You still with us, little Johnny?” Arthur teased him.

“Yes!” John spat back. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Good, drink this.” Arthur held the cup out, watching with amusement as John struggled to get an arm out from the weight of the blankets.

The kid took the tin cup, looking wearily inside and giving it a sniff. “What the hell is this?”

“Sarsaparilla.”

“What’s it for?”

“Oh, well, it’s a cure-all.” Arthur replied. “Should help you with your leg.”

“Why is it hot?”

“Do you want it to be cold?”

John thought for a moment. “ . . . No . . .”

“Alright, then drink it.”

The kid looked between Arthur and the sarsaparilla a few times, then, after another brief pause, he drank it down in one go. “That didn’t taste great.” He said simply.

“Probably not. But it should help. We’ll have food soon.”

“Other than beans?”

“Yes, John. Hosea’s getting the deer ready.”

“I hope I don’t crack a tooth on a bullet.” John grumbled.

Arthur sighed again, plopping down onto his own cot. Then he smiled. “Well then I suppose you can just have the beans again.”

John’s head turned lightning fast. “No!”

Arthur laughed, pulling out his journal from the satchel he left on the small table. He did his best to draw the scene before him, little John buried under far too many blankets, trying his best to sleep. It didn’t turn out as good as he’d have wanted. But it was better than how he would have drawn it even a few months back. So in that, he could be satisfied.

He had started another drawing when John spoke up and broke the silence. “Arthur, what’s syphilis?”

The only response the young man had was a roar of laughter.

•••••

Notes: It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me that before the events of rdr2, Arthur had barely hunted in his life. What Pearson says at the start of the game is that it's Arthur's first "decent" bit of hunting. So I just like to think that Arthur would hunt when he had to, he just wasn't the best at it. But he learned to be a much better hunter durning the course of the game.

Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoyed it! I'm planning to do at least one more written prompt for yeehawgust, but hoping I can get two more done. 

#yeehawgust #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #arthur morgan #rdr #rdr2 fic #red dead brodemption #fic #my writing #my uploads #this took way too long to write #like wayyyyy too long #but it is what it is #and i'm happy with it #so that's what counts #i'm hoping to get some art done this weekend and next week too #edit: added the ao3 link

[prairiemule]

Hey ya’ll, I’ve finally finished and uploaded the most recent chapter of The Broken Jewel! Basically this fic is a story revolving around young Arthur and John in 1887 as they try and solve a mystery around the fictional town of Jewel, Colorado

Here is a bit from the newest chapter

The shopkeep greeted them in a neutral tone. An older man, balding and not trying to hide it. “Morning, boys. Anything I can help you with?”

Arthur gave a charming smile, or an attempt at one. “Just here for some food and supplies.”

The owner gave a grunt of acknowledgement. “Well, canned food on the shelves, fresh food by the front, got cigarettes up here, kerosene by the back door. Also got a few clothes in the back corner. Those are the usual things drifters want, anything else you need?”

There was a subtle emphasis on ‘drifters,’ Arthur noticed. “We’re mostly here for the food, thank you sir.” He replied, disarming smile still plastered to his face.

The clerk gave a curt nod. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

Arthur looked over to see John had already rushed to look at the few jars of candy. Arthur joined him. “You know, you need to eat more than candy if you ever want to grow.”

“It’s my money, I’ll buy what I want.” The kid replied.

“Just don’t let it be all you eat for the next couple days. Savor it.” He said, being genuine.

John seemed surprised by the kindness in Arthur’s tone. He couldn’t blame him, considering all the usual teasing they did. “Alright.” John said simply.

Arthur gestured towards some shelves of canned food. “Come on, let’s find something to eat for breakfast and stock up.”

John followed. "Please don’t just buy beans.”

The young man scoffed. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“It’s happened before.”

Arthur paused. “. . . I was probably drunk at the time.”

“Weren't a ‘probably.’”

“Stop sassing me, boy.”

John gave him a shit-eating grin. But didn’t continue. Instead he looked to the shelves and grabbed a can of apricots, staring at it.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #rdr2 fic #rdr #red dead brodemption #fic #my writing #my uploads #this took me an eternity to get done because the pandemic has sapped me #also i'm still a nervous wreck about sharing my writing lmao #but here i am trying

[prairiemule]

Arthur & John || Kicking Uncle right in the Lumbago

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #uncle #red dead brodemption #my gifs. #my uploads #cinematic parallels #only true brothers kick uncle

[prairiemule]

A rare moment of Arthur being nice to John in ch.1

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #red dead brodemption #video #my gameplay #my uploads #about 15 seconds later arthur started teasing john #so that didn't last long #i'll probably upload that little clip tomorrow #anyway i started a new playthorugh #for the first time in a very long time #and started crying the moment arthur popped on screen #i'm a totally healthy normal human being i promise

[prairiemule]

So I’m always very shy about sharing  my writing anywhere, but friends told me I really ought to share on tumblr, so here I am, nervous as hell about it.

Anyway, this is a new story I’m working on, intended to be a mystery. It focuses on a young Arthur and John as they navigate a strange town in Colorado.

Here’s a little snippet of the first chapter.

Arthur took his cash and shoved it in his satchel. Standing up, “Is there anything else you need from us, Dutch? I should get to doing more chores.”

Dutch stood too, grabbing the rest of the money and putting it back in the bowl. “I do have something I need. From both of you.”

Arthur looked at him, brow raised. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

“It’s time you two head into town, try to find some leads of your own.”

The young man looked down at John, the kid counting his bills and probably trying to add them up. John suddenly perked up, apparently slow to register Dutch’s words in his head. “When?” He asked.

“How about right now?” Dutch replied. “This money has given us a good start for what we need, but we really need a lot more before winter hits.”

Arthur looked from Dutch, to the small dirty child, to Dutch again. He sighed. “Alright.” His attention back to John. “We leave in fifteen minutes, get cleaned up.”

John hopped to the ground, shoving the money in his pocket, having given up counting. He began to rush towards their tent, and Arthur at last noticed the kid was barefoot.

“Put some damn boots on too, John.”

The boy shouted back over his shoulder. “That weren’t my fault, you didn’t let me get ready!”

Arthur put a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, but he kept quiet.

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #red dead brodemption #fic #my writing #my uploads #gods save me i get so nervous about sharing my writing above all else #because i have the least confidence in my writing compared to other things i do #and i don't know which passage i should choose as a preview #it's all a big mess in my head #but like . . . if you do read it and like it #please leave a comment cause nothing motivates a writer more than comments T^T

[prairiemule]

🌹 - Give me that sweet, sweet wippage

Arthur had remained silent nearly the whole time, every attempt from John to make a conversation simply ended with a grunt from Arthur.

John’s excitement for the trip began to fade into frustration. Until finally, after a long break of silence, the kid snapped. “You said we’d talk about it in the morning.” He sputtered out suddenly.

The big man jolted ever so slightly from the unexpected outburst. Arthur looked back over his shoulder, something of a mix of a glare and confusion on his face. “What are you on about now, boy?”

“I . . .” he paused. “You were going to talk to me . . . about my horse.”

(From the next chapter of The Broken Jewel on ao3, an early years fic of the gang, focused on young John and Arthur getting up to some brotherly nonsense)

Send a 🌹for a random sentence (or many) from an upcoming wip

#ask the mule #rdr #rdr2 #arthur morgan #john marston #red dead brodemption #fic #(tiny fic but still a fic) #my writing #my uploads #the boys are fighting!!! #thank you for the ask hyde #i can't get the boys to be nice to each other lmao

[prairiemule]

I’m sure John remembers his brother very fondly.

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #red dead brodemption #video #my gameplay #my uploads #old boy is ethereal apparently #also i'm so sorry old boy #but i was getting sick of doing this mission over and over again

[prairiemule]

The fallen hero is not allowed to leave his bed. Not until he’s healed.

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #susan grimshaw #abigail marston #video #my gameplay #my uploads #red dead brodemption #okay outside of abigail glitched to standing on the bed #what i love most is john's exasperated 'oh god no' #when arthur walks in #he knows his brother is gonna shit talk him #he just knows