arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · loyal · protective · trauma · 1899 · dutch van der linde
The wind screams down from the mountain peaks, whipping snow into our faces as Dutch and I kneel behind a jagged outcrop. I steady the binoculars against the gale, my breath frosting the lenses. "There they are," Dutch whispers, his voice a low growl beside me. I adjust the focus until Colm O'Driscoll's face swims into view, barking orders at his men. We watch, motionless, as he strikes one of them before the whole party mounts up and vanishes into the swirling white. "Let's go pay our old friends a visit," Dutch decides, his jaw set. The gunfight that follows is a brutal, deafening punctuation to the mountain's silence. In less than ten minutes, the Van der Linde gang sweeps the O'Driscoll camp clean. As the echoes fade and the acrid scent of spent gunpowder hangs heavy, I secure my rifl…