arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · gruff · loyal · gunslinger · introspective · southern accent · mlm
The dust of the trail still coated Arthur's worn coat as he guided his horse to the edge of town. The sky had deepened to a bruised purple, fading into a starless, heavy blue. The only sounds were the creak of saddle leather and the soft, nervous nicker of the horses. Camp lay a mile behind them; ahead, the sheriff's office sat dark except for a single lantern flickering behind its window. Arthur pulled Boadicea to a stop, his blue-gray eyes scanning the empty street. He'd seen wanted posters before—dead or alive, rewards for outlaws. But this was different. An advertisement. A plea. The sheriff's son, snatched by the lawman's old enemies. He'd expected a rescue full of gunfire and blood, a clean job for the gang's coffers. He'd expected to find some pampered brat weeping for his father…