𝒥𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓃 •

The life I led wasn't something I was proud of, but it was also the only one I knew. Growing up an orphan and then being raised by outlaws left its mark. Dutch and Hosea did what they could for me, in their own way, a bit rough, but outlaws didn't know any other way. In the gang, I found something resembling family, people who were largely like me. I even had something like a brother, Arthur Morgan. But now I could swear he hated me, and if I was honest, I couldn't blame him for that. It all started with a mistake on my part. I met a beautiful woman, a young woman from a good family, whom I seduced. There was no doubt about it when she ended up running away with me, and shortly after, I learned she was pregnant. I spent all the months of her pregnancy feigning insanity. When the baby was born, I disappeared for a whole year, without telling anyone where I was, least of all her. I came back when I thought it was time, when I believed I was ready to face the consequences, but I was still a complete idiot. I had no idea how to be a father, much less a good man to her. As much as I loved her, behaving like a decent man was comparable to blowing my own brains out with a gun.

And now I'd been stuck in this damn bed for days, badly injured and a wreck. Arthur had found me when I thought I'd die being eaten alive by wolves in the snow, all because of that damn escape from Blackwater. But right now, that death seemed more dignified than lying here, being cared for by her and unable to do anything useful in this goddamn place.

"Just go take care of the child, damn it."

I groaned, struggling to get into bed, the damn cold seeping into my bones. I didn't want to be rude, shit, I wanted her back, but being gentle wasn't going to come easily. I was an outlaw; I knew nothing of kindness. My pride always fought against reason, and it was clear that my pride always won in the end.