"Arthur Morgan, you get your sorry ass out here now!" Grimshaw's shrill voice disturbs the blissed-out atmosphere of the tent.

Arthur groans when his dozing is disturbed, his hands coming up to rub the sleep from his face. He looks down at his chest to where you're peacefully sleeping, your new engagement ring sparkling as it catches the light. He's lost for a moment in the sight, you are sleeping in his arms, the promise of being his wife glinting on your finger, the life he helped create growing in your womb. Lifting his hand as gently as he can he brushes a loose strand of hair from your face before dropping his hand to your belly.

He wasn't around when Eliza was pregnant, so he has no idea when he'll begin to feel the baby move, trying to think back to when Abigail was pregnant, he remembers she was much rounder when she complained of Jack kicking from within. He couldn't wait to see you around and full, the image causing a smile to creep across his face as he thought of how beautiful you'd look.

"Jesus woman, can't you give them a moment's peace?" the rasping of John's voice immediately pulls him from his thoughts.

Grimshaw wastes no time in turning on John, their bickering becoming white noise outside the tent and effectively ruining any chance he had of returning to his peaceful state.

Sighing he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, muttering to himself, "No goddamn peace in this place."

"I'd get out there before she comes in here and drags you out." you groan, attempting to bury yourself further into Arthur's chest.

Feeling you awake and your heat against him Arthur is in no mood to move, instead, he turns and draws you in closer, completely engulfing your body against his as he slips a knee between your legs. You gasp at the contact as he brushes against a particularly sweet spot. Noting your reaction, he pulls you closer with a hand on your hip, grinding your core against his upper thigh. You whimper at the movement, your hips taking over the movement as the wetness between your legs begins to grow.

"There she is. So good for me, there you go darlin', find your pleasure." His voice is deep as he drawls out praise for you, encouraging you to ride his thigh harder.

All too quickly you're becoming a panting mess as he continues to whisper in your ear. His hands still guiding you against him he presses wet kisses along your neck as he senses you drawing close to your peak.

"That's it. Just like that. Keep going for me, sweetheart."

You feel yourself tipping over the edge, your body going ridged as you begin to sigh his name breathlessly.

"Arth-. "

"Arthur Morgan, if you're not out here in five seconds, I'll come in there and drag you out myself!

Groaning loudly in frustration you cease your movements and press your head to his chest, your orgasm effectively chased away by Susan's screeching.

Arthur can't help but chuckle as he strokes your hair sympathetically before swinging his legs from the bed and pulling on his jeans. "I'm sorry darlin', I'll make it up to you later."

Still grumbling to yourself you follow his lead and get dressed, your movements jerky and agitated as you feel the frustration of orgasm denial settle within you.

"Took you long enough." Susan greets you as you follow Arthur from the tent, smoothing your hair as you try to hide any evidence of yours and Arthur's mischief.

Susan isn't a fool, however, casting you a judging eyebrow before continuing with her agenda.

"Mr. Morgan, we have much to do to prepare this place for a new baby, but first..."

"Jesus woman!" Arthur rubs the back of his head where Susan swiftly hits him. "Will everyone stop hitting me!?" he growls, casting a scowl at Susan as you cover your mouth to hide your smirk.

"That is for running away on this poor girl and scaring us all!" she points her finger at him menacingly.

Arthur continues to rub the sore spot, glaring at her with the look of a scolded child, but you don't miss the flash of guilt that passes over his features. He knows he's messed up leaving the way he did but the constant reminder from everyone in camp was going to be a hard pill to swallow for him.

Susan, satisfied with her telling off, turns her attention to you, her features softening instantly. "Now you dear, how are you feeling? Have you been taking any herbs to help with the baby? When did you last bleed? Do you know how far along you are?"

Steering you from Arthur she steals you away as you look back at him desperate for help, hoping he'd save you and find an excuse to avoid Susan's fussing, but the wicked smile that plays across his features tells you all you need to know, he's giving you no help. Rolling your eyes, you stick out your tongue like a child, before turning back to Susan and accepting that the rest of your day is going to entail her barking orders and getting you up to speed on your pregnancy. You were thankful for her mothering ways, but you'd just gotten Arthur back, and you weren't too keen on being away from him just yet.

Watching you get dragged away Arthur can't help but smile to himself, the news that he was going to be a father again was still settling in his mind. He was happy. He felt he had been offered a second chance.

With Eliza things had been different, they hadn't meant anything to each other, no more than a one-night stand with consequences. When he'd found out she'd had Isaac he'd immediately gone to her, offering whatever help he could. Although he loved that little boy and over the years he and Eliza had grown to become good friends, he never truly felt like the father he wanted to be. He was always on the outskirts of their life, living with the gang and visiting when he could, he missed so much of Isaac's development. When he'd found them dead and buried, he'd buried that part of him too, believing that he was never meant to be a father, that the life he led would always prevent it.

When he heard you speak the words his mind had gone into overdrive, his first thought was that he had failed you. He always had a plan to marry you, he wanted to get you out of this life, find a home for you both and then make you his wife. When you told him you were pregnant his mind conjured images of people calling you a whore for carrying a child out of wedlock, he had to protect you, his first instinct, fix this and marry you. He never told anyone about his mother's ring, not even his own father knew he had it. She'd given it to him on her death bed, hoping it would serve him better than it had served her, even when he was young, desperate, and starving, he refused to sell it. He'd kept the ring hidden in a deposit box at the Rhodes bank under the name Tacitus and when he left camp the other day that was the first place he headed, having not seen the ring in 20 years.

Arthur had been engaged once before, to a Mary Gillis, but it never crossed his mind to use his mother's ring then, instead opting to engage her with a small diamond ring he'd stolen from a stagecoach., but with you, it felt different. He almost felt his mother willing him to give you the ring like she knew the ring had found its rightful home on your finger.

Hosea's hand pats Arthur's shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts.

"You worried me for a minute there Arthur, I didn't think you were coming back."

"Yea... Seems everyone thought that."

"Well can you blame us, Arthur? "

"No, I guess I rightly can't."

Taking a visible pause Hosea nods his head and begins walking towards his tent, indicating that Arthur should follow. Drawing the tent flaps closed behind him he turns and regards Arthur, taking in the grown man before him and still only seeing the lost young teenager he'd taken in all those years ago.

The air feels heavy as he waits for Hosea to speak, wondering what he could possibly need the privacy for.

"Arthur, I know it was hard for you when you lost Isaac."

"Hosea please I-"

"No son let me finish. I know it was hard to lose your son, none of us can even imagine what a loss like that must have felt like but this is a second chance for you. A second chance for you to be happy."

Arthur nods as a small frown worries his brow. Where was Hosea going with this?

Hosea begins to pace as he struggles to find the words, "What I'm trying to say Arthur is I want you to have a real shot with that girl. It's the least you deserve."

Bending behind his cot Hosea pulls out a small mahogany box, he stares at it as he strokes the lid before handing it to Arthur.

The box is light in his hands as he takes it, turning it around he sees two letters engraved on the lid.

B & H

"Bessie and I...we had plans. We wanted to have a chance at a proper life, outside of the gang and away from all this. But...it wasn't meant to be for us."

A sad smile crosses his face as he takes a moment before continuing.

"We never had children Arthur; we never had the chance to. You and John are the closest thing to sons I have, and I want to do right by you both."

Arthur begins to sense where the conversation is going, the box suddenly feeling much heavier in his hands as he realizes his father figure is much more intuitive than he ever gave him credit for.

"That's all the money Bess and I saved for our new life. She fell too ill before we could use it and... well...I want you to have it. You and Y/N, I want you to take it and get the hell out of this life."

Arthur is speechless as Hosea finishes, unsure how to continue. Here he was being given a chance at the life he so desperately wanted to give to you, he owed the man before him more than he could ever know. Feeling too lost for words he does the only thing he can think of, he draws Hosea into a tight hug. Knowing his adopted son was not one to share his affection lightly Hosea welcomed the hug with open arms.

Meanwhile, across camp Susan has you drinking down some god-awful cocktail of herbs as Swanson listens to your heart rate.

"All of it! You have to finish the whole thing!" she barks when you gag on a particularly lumpy mouthful.

"Well, heart rate is good, you seem in top shape" Swanson declares as he begins to pack up his supplies. "If you begin to feel pain at all you let me know."

Thanking him you quickly roll down your shirt, relieved to have the life growing inside you healthy. As Susan ushers you to finish your herb cocktail Dutch wanders over, looking somewhat distracted as he makes his way into the tent, puffing anxiously on his cigar.

"Mind if Miss Y/L/N and I have a moment alone?"

Casting aside glance, you see Susan hesitate, the next batch of herb she was preparing half mixed on the side. She knew nothing good could come from any conversation he wanted to have and was concerned to leave you alone with him, her mothering instincts kicking into overdrive at the look on his face. You see her about to protest, her mouth almost forming the words, but one look from Dutch has her thinking better of arguing, instead of snapping her mouth shut and opting to leave you alone.

The worried look she offers as she leaves isn't lost on you, and you try to compose yourself before you end up mirroring the look on your own face. Turning to Dutch you steel yourself, preparing for whatever is about to come your way.

Seating himself on Swanson's abandoned chair he regards you with a soft smile, taking a long drag of his cigar he exhales slowly before speaking.

"So, should your child call me Grandpa or pops?"

Well, that wasn't the conversation you were expecting, feeling guarded and nervous, you wait for him to continue. Watching as a small smirk plays across his face, you feel your hair begin to stand on edge, like the calm before the storm you sense something is coming. Something you're not going to like.

"Yea neither of those sound right to me, besides, Arthur never really called me Dad, Hosea was always 'Dad' to him."

You hear scorn in his voice as if he were jealous of Arthur and Hosea's bond.

"Regardless of what he called me, Arthur is my son, and I will always protect him, even if that means protecting him from things, he doesn't realize he needs protecting from. Do you understand what I'm saying Miss Y/L/N?"

"Not really, no." you grit through your teeth, already not liking where this was going.

"Well, you see, Arthur has responsibilities, to the gang, to his family..."

The word family clearly implying he didn't include you.

"...and I don't think we...sorry he... can afford a distraction right now."

"What are you saying Dutch?" your blood is beginning to boil, and your patience is wearing thin.

"Oh, my dear, it's nothing personal, but as Arthur's father, the task usually falls to me to clean up his little problems. I had the same conversation with Mary because I know what's best for Arthur and what Arthur needs is for you or your baby to disappear."

"I'll let Arthur be the judge of what he needs, Arthur can control his own life. And Dutch, I'll thank you not to talk about our baby in that way." You practically spit the words in his face as your fists clench and unclench with anger.

Pushing himself from the chair he takes another long drag from his cigar before blowing the smoke at you.

"Well, somethings not even Arthur can control. Pregnancy can be very unpredictable...Very unpredictable indeed."

With those as his final words he leaves the tent, leaving you stunned as your protectively cover your stomach with your hands.

Did Dutch just threaten you?