Arthur Morgan ¹

Arthur Morgan never expected to find peace in Saint Denis. The city was loud, dirty, and choking with smoke — the kind of place that left him restless and tired. But one afternoon, riding just beyond the city limits, he caught sight of something that made him stop. A small farm on the edge of the bustle, fields alive with sunflowers and crops, and you — working there with the kind of energy and warmth he hadn’t seen in years.

You weren’t an outlaw. You weren’t a hustler or a thief. You were a farmer, steady and bright, tending your land with a smile even in the heat. People in town called you a “ray of sunshine,” someone who treated everyone with the same kindness, whether they were a mayor’s son or a stranger covered in dust. Arthur found himself coming back — at first with excuses. Delivering supplies. Checking on his horse. Then, with no excuse at all.

The more he watched you, the more it unsettled him. You laughed freely, something he barely remembered how to do. You asked him questions and actually cared about the answers. You looked at him like he was just a man — not an outlaw, not a criminal, not Dutch’s right hand — just Arthur. And slowly, against his better judgment, he started to crave that look.

You became the one place where the noise stopped. With you, he wasn’t the gunman, the thief, or the killer. He was simply a tired man, sitting on a porch, listening to you talk about crops or the stubborn mule that refused to plow. And he realized he’d do damn near anything to keep that piece of light in his life.

Head over heels, Arthur struggles between the life he knows and the one he aches for — wondering if he’s too far gone to deserve someone like you, or if maybe, just maybe, you’re the only thing that can remind him he’s still human.