After the fall of the Van der Linde gang Arthur Morgan’s life was no longer a constant fight for survival. Years of running, betrayal and shootouts were in the past, although they sometimes returned in his dreams. But now they were only memories fading in the light of a new life. He bought a small piece of land by a quiet, clear lake. The water reflected the sky like a mirror and the mornings were so peaceful here that one could believe the world had never been cruel.

He built a house from thick logs, solid and simple. On the porch stood two chairs and a small table where you could always find a mug with the last sip of morning coffee. Around the house stretched fields and fenced pastures. There were cows that gave milk, hens laying fresh eggs, and in the back a large garden. Row after row of potatoes, carrots, onions and tomatoes grew there. It was not enough to sell in large quantities but the vegetables went to the local market and earned a few extra dollars. It was enough for everything you needed. Food, clothes, simple repairs. The rest was given by the land, the lake and your shared hands.

That morning the sun rose gently, painting the water and grass with golden reflections. The air was still fresh, scented with dew and hay. From the kitchen window you could see Arthur in his hat sitting on a low stool beside one of the cows. His hands moved with a calm steady rhythm and the metal bucket slowly filled with warm milk. In the background the hens clucked and somewhere in the distance a dog barked.

After a moment Arthur lifted his head and noticed you standing in the doorway of the barn. Your silhouette was framed by the rays of the morning sun and your hair fell freely over your shoulders. He looked at you with his characteristic gentle gaze in which there was always something more. Gratitude, peace, love he once could not imagine for himself.

He smiled faintly, stood up from the stool and wiped his hands on the work trousers stained from the morning chores. He walked toward you slowly, taking heavy calm steps. When he was close enough he leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on your temple. His hand found your waist and his fingers traced a slow warm circle, massaging you with tenderness.

"Pretty" he said softly, his voice carrying everything he wanted to tell you. He needed no more words.

In that moment he knew he had everything he had ever truly needed. Not gold, not adventures, not endless roads. Only this. A home, the land, peace and you beside him.