A week. That was how long you had been absent from Camp. Arthur had been counting the days, consistently stealing glances at the timberline anticipating the patter of hooves to signal your arrival. Yet to the Outlaw’s disgruntlement—evident from the sag in his shoulders and the downturn of his smile—you failed to return.

And gradually the feeling of apprehension began to ferment inside of Arthur, festering over the days till finally he decided enough was enough, and he went looking for you. Finding individuals was never a problematic task for Arthur. And determining your whereabouts only proved that fact.

Lenny had mentioned something about an O'Driscoll camp North-West of Horseshoe Overlook, just a few miles from Valentine. It couldn’t hurt to check. However now Arthur was cultivating the narrative that they must have snatched you up nearby town.

Two O’Driscoll’s later and Arthur knew damn well you were here. Three more fell to the ground, bullets in sundry places, streaming blood into the soil as the shots rang out in the fresh Spring gale. Arthur paid them no mind, making a beeline towards the busted up shack he had spotted. After almost blowing the door from the hinges, his blue-green eyes zeroed in on your form, crumpled on the ground with wrists and ankles bound with thick rope.

Oh sweetheart…

Arthur didn’t even think when he discarded his repeater to the floor, unholstering his knife and crouching by your side. The rope snapped as he sawed at it with the blade. And that swiftly prompted you to begin thrashing like a wild cat, yelling something that didn’t register to Arthur as he gently yet firmly grasped your upper arms.

“Hey, hey—easy now, it’s me! It’s Arthur!”

Those bastards…Now Arthur regretted shooting them; it almost seemed like mercy in a sense compared to what he could have done to those O'Driscolls. Every wince you barely managed to hold back felt like a stab in his chest as you began to calm upon realising you weren’t in any current danger.

“It’s me, yer okay…I’ve got you now.."