Arthur Morgan did not intend to survive when he gave his hat to John Marston and stayed behind to gain his redemption. As he crawled towards his final resting place, he never intended to wake up again.
But he does wake up. Thanks to time travelers F...
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2021
"Good evening, Tori," Arthur grinned, beckoning her into Jackson's house. It was the evening they'd set aside to make dinner together, and he'd been looking forward to it since their time in the Grizzlies.
Jackson had thankfully agreed to make himself scarce for the evening. He'd gone to Strawberry with Francis and Charles to do some drinking and have a good time. The whole ranch was Arthur and Tori's. Only Hank was left behind.
The dog wagged his stub tail happily as Tori entered the cabin, carrying a grocery bag full of food from her house. Arthur helped her with her coat and took the grocery bag from her gently.
"Hey boy," Tori laughed, scratching Hank on the head. "Want a treat?"
Hank licked his lips and barked happily as Tori reached into her pocket and pulled out a dog biscuit. She threw it into the main living area, and Hank chased after it, tail wagging as fast as it would go.
"He seems happy," she laughed, watching him go.
Arthur nodded. "He does. Jackson takes real good care of him." Then, his gaze moved to the bag of food. "What'd you bring?"
Tori grinned. "Taco stuff. Ground moose, some taco seasoning, all the fixins', and the stuff to make Spanish rice and refried beans. It's been a while since I had a taco, and I've been craving them really bad."
"Sounds damn good to me," Arthur agreed. He followed her to the kitchen and helped her get some water boiling for the rice. It was his job to watch it while she prepared the meat.
"Did you comb your hair?" Tori asked as she stirred the ground moose, sizzling deliciously in its pan.
Arthur blushed. Of course he had. Their dinner tonight seemed like a special occasion, and in any case, he was tired of his hair being messy and unkempt. It was time for a haircut, it seemed, but in the meantime, he was damn sure he wouldn't look like a mountain man while Tori was around. "Yeah," he admitted. "I figure you're tired of me lookin' like I been workin' cows in the wind all day."
Tori only chuckled. "Oh, Arthur. I don't mind when your hair is messy. I don't even mind when you smell like horses because you've been breaking three-year-olds all day. I like you just the way you are, flaws and all."
The words "Oh Arthur" brought back so many memories. When she said it, she sounded exactly like Mary. His brain continued down that train of thought, and he realized that regardless of the t-shirt and blue jeans she was wearing, she looked incredibly like Mary tonight. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, framing her heart-shaped face perfectly. Her small, dainty hands were Mary's hands, stirring gently at the meal before her. Her body was Mary's body, with its gentle curves and slender waist. She looked absolutely stunning.
But then, Arthur froze. She wasn't entirely like Mary. Her bushy, heavy-set eyebrows were Micah's. Her face, while extraordinarily like Mary's, had higher cheekbones and a chin that came to a more defined point, exactly like Micah's. The more Arthur looked at her, the more of his old enemy he saw, until he had to look away. His eyes stared endlessly at the kitchen counter in front of him, and his hand clenched itself into a very, very tight fist.
