《HIS | Arthur Morgan X Reader》Epilogue I
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5 years later...
"Daddy, Jack said he won't play with me anymore." Tris pouts, her tiny feet kicking up dust as she stomps into the barn rubbing her eyes.
She had been trying desperately all morning to get Jack to play sheriff with her, but he seemed more interested in his books than pretending to be a lawman. She had even fashioned him a makeshift badge out of paper, which she had spent hours meticulously coloring with her crayons, her tiny tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she tried in vain to stay within the lines.
Arthur leans back from the broken wagon's wheel and watches Tris approach, her eyes wide and a crumpled paper star clutched between her fingers. Seeing his daughter's bottom lip start to quiver, his heart instantly clenches, frowning at her saddened features.
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"Hey sweetheart, c'mere." he soothes, opening his arms wide to her, she instantly runs to embrace him, burying her face into his neck and sniffling back tears.
He's sad for her, he really is, but he can't help the smile that creeps across his face. Poor Jack had played with Tris for endless hours and she never seemed to tire, she would constantly invent new games for them to play but in the end, Jack would get tired, or bored, and sneak away to read his books, leaving Charlotte Beatrice alone and looking for a new companion. Sensing Jack may have given her the slip once again Arthur stands, holding her against him, and gently petting her head.
Since being born Arthur had been wrapped around his daughter's little finger, usually leaving you to be the stricter parent. Tris had a sweet tooth, a trait she inherited from you, and on a number of occasions, you had had to enforce a no candy before bed rule. This usually ended with Tris flashing Arthur her widest 'sad' eyes and asking to have her Daddy tuck her in that night instead of you. You would roll your eyes, knowing your husband was being played by a five-year-old, but as it always happened, the night would wear on and you would walk past Tris's room to see Arthur with her curled up on his lap, the pair asleep and surrounded by chocolate wrappers. The one time you had happened to catch Arthur in the act of sneaking into her room, he at least had the decency to look guilty before handing over the candy bar as you shake your head with a smile.
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The only time you'd ever seen Arthur become cross with her was one day by the river. John and Arthur had taken Jack and Tris fishing by the shore as you and Abigail relaxed nearby. The sun had slowly begun to set and you all quickly realized that Tris had wandered off. She often chased after small animals and insects so this was a common occurrence, but as the minutes dragged on you had all begun to panic, Arthur becoming practically frantic as he called her name. When she innocently appeared from behind a tree, having wanted to scare her Pa as a joke, he had scolded her quite fiercely about wandering off, before collecting his fishing pole and silently stomping back to the house. At first, you were furious at him for overreacting and making your daughter cry, but later on, as you crawled into bed with him you understood.
Arthur explained to you his outburst, his head low at the guilt of scaring his daughter. He had feared the worst when he realized, she was gone; his mind replaying the pain of losing his son Isaac and he had instantly begun to panic. As he opened up to you, you laid his head on your chest, smoothing his hair as he began to weep. The next day you both made the decision to tell Tris about her departed half-brother and why 'Daddy had gotten scared when she was gone.'
"Tris?" Arthur turns his head to hers, hoping she'll unbury her face, but instead she pulls herself tighter to him. He sighs, his heart, aching at his daughter's disappointment.
"Jack probably just wants to play one of his own games for a little bit, okay? Why don't you help me fix the wagon until dinner's ready huh? I gotta get this fixed up for Mommy's trip." Arthur kisses her curls, but still, she refuses to raise her head.
" I spent all night making him a badge and now he won't wear it." She mumbles and sniffs into his neck.
"What kind of a badge did you make him?" Arthur questions, hoping to coax his daughter into a conversation and out of her blues.
"A shewiff one." Her mouth not quite able to pronounce the word correctly.
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Arthur can't help but huff a short laugh and roll his eyes, a smirk of disbelief spreading across his face. Trust his daughter to want to play the sheriff...If only she knew.
"Well, maybe Jack didn't want to be a sheriff. What if he wanted to be an outlaw instead?"
Tris pulls her head about from his neck to stare at his face confused.
"You mean a bad man?"
Arthur tried hard not to wince at his daughter's unwitting harsh words.
"Sweetheart, what if I told you, that I was an outlaw?" Arthur asks, his heart beginning to hammer hard in his chest.
She pauses, her head tilting to the side as she takes in her father's face. Seemingly searching his features for if he had it in him. After a tense minute, she squeals excitedly, throwing her arms around his neck once more to his confusion, only this time she hugs him tightly.
"You can be the outlaw and I'll be the shewiff!"
Arthur releases his held breathe, dropping his shoulders in relief at his daughter's innocence. The conversation of his colorful past could wait for another day, for now, he had a game to play. Placing Tris on the ground, he takes the crumbled star from her fingers and pins it to her blouse, she puffs her chest out proudly before holder up her fingers in a mock revolver.
"Alright mister put 'em up, I've caught you red-handed!"
He raises his hands obediently, the irony of being held up again by a tiny and undoubtedly adorable sheriff not lost on him.
"Alright sheriff, you can take me in, but I'll never tell you where I hid the money!" Arthur plays along, enjoying the look of excitement on his daughter's face at Arthur's development of the game.
Their game continued with an attempted escape and a wild and dangerous shootout before Tris manages to corner Arthur by the main house, him admitting defeat and accepting his fate, and allowing her to 'cuff' him.
Arthur tugs gently at the ribbon binding his wrists.
"Alright, I admit it. I am Arthur Morgan, and that is my bounty poster." He surrenders, wondering briefly if there were still any of his actual bounty posters out there.
"Ha! I knew it. You're coming with me." She demands, tugging her father joyfully into the house.
John leaves the kitchen just in time to see his old partner being 'locked' into the dining room chair jail.
"Well, I'll be damned." He smirks at Arthur. "They finally caught you?"
Arthur huffs a laugh, raising his eyebrow sarcastically at his brother.
"Hey sheriff?" he leans down to whisper in Tris's ear. "If I tell you where to find the man who actually robbed the bank. Will you let me go?"
She eyes her father suspiciously before nodding and leaning in.
Tris's eyes grow wide as she holds in giggles, turning towards John to point her 'gun' at him.
"Stop right there!" she exclaims.
"The..hell!?" John questions as she sprints over and dives at his feet.
"You're under arrest" she yells, wrapping her arms around his calf and hugging his ankle.
He drops his hands in understanding, nodding his head at Arthur, to signal that he was willing to play along.
"On what charges?."
"For being dumb enough to get half-eaten by wolves!"
She bursts out laughing as Arthur slaps his knee, roaring with laughter at the expression on John's face.
"Seriously Arthur!?" he huffs exasperated and rolling his eyes before stomping away.
Tris gulps for air as she comes down from her fit of giggles, pushing herself up and walking over to her jailed in Pa ready to release him for his cooperation.
"Okay, you can go." She tugs at the ribbon, pulling his hands free.
"Thanks, Sweetheart." He chuckles, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Shall we go see how your Ma's doing?
She nods, grabbing Arthur's hand and letting him lead her along.
"Can we had chocolate?" she asks.
"Of course we can," he nods with a smirk, knowing you were going to kill him later.
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