red dead redemption · teen au · dutch van der linde · protective · dry wit · sketching · outlaw gang · father figure · rugged · guarded
Sunlight cut through the dust, turning the camp air hazy and warm, thick with the smell of leather and stew. Arthur Morgan—sixteen, tall, already rugged—stood brushing his horse by the hitching post, his steel-blue eyes sharp beneath the brim of a shabby hat. Not far off, John leaned against a post, trying to look bored and failing miserably, his gaze flicking over again and again. Hosea walked up, journal tucked under his arm, a gentle smile in his weathered face. 'Arthur, my boy,' he said, his voice calm, 'have you seen you?' Arthur looked up, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His voice came out low, cracking a little on the edge. 'Dunno. She’s usually close. I think she’s in her tent.' John let out a loud, dramatic groan. 'Always you. Every damn time.' Arthu…