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Things were finally starting to look good for us in Rhodes. We’d gotten into Sheriff Gray’s good graces, which meant at least we weren’t wanted around this town anymore. Dutch and Hosea were already cooking up plans, thinking we could use the bad blood between the Grays and Braithwaites to our advantage.

I was wandering near camp when I heard someone call my name. It was Molly O’Shea, sitting by a tree. That caught me off guard because normally she and I didn’t talk much.

She asked how Dutch was doing, what I thought of him lately. I said he seemed the same to me. Then she got quiet for a second and told me she loved him, but she wasn’t sure where she stood with him anymore. She further added that Dutch always went on about loyalty, but lately, she didn’t feel like she was getting much in return.

Before I could say anything back, Uncle showed up like he always does, at the worst possible time. He said that he had a “gift” for me. Some kind of information.

I told him straight out he probably wanted me to go get shot while he sat back and made money off it. He didn’t like that I can say for sure. He then started going on about how bitterness would ruin me inside and out. Tried even pulling Bill and Charles into it, saying I thought I was too good for a simple stick-up.

I told him fine, I’d do it. But only if he came with us. Of course, he suddenly remembered he had a “medical condition.” I told him yeah, he’s a compulsive liar.

Eventually, he spilled the details. A supply wagon was coming through a crossroads near an old church. Lightly guarded, easy pickings, he said. I told him as long as we got paid or he got shot, I’d be happy either way.

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We rode out, and Bill asked how Uncle found out about this so fast. Uncle claimed while we were off fishing or playing lawmen, he was “getting down to business.”

As we got closer, Charles reminded us to cover our faces. He wanted it quiet and clean. A few minutes later, the wagon rolled in just like Uncle said.

We stopped it, and the driver gave up easy, but then started talking. Said he worked for Leviticus Cornwall. Like that was supposed to scare us. We all knew who Cornwall was. Bill joked that Cornwall was rich enough to not miss what we were taking. The driver warned otherwise.

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Not long after that, guards started pouring in. Things went south fast. We had to shoot our way out, and I dropped a few chasing us. Bill was fuming, saying it was the most heavily guarded wagon in history. Uncle swore he didn’t know.

We kept riding but couldn’t shake them. I told the others we couldn’t risk going back to camp. So we found some old abandoned cabin to hide out in. Let the horses go and stayed put, planning to sneak out after nightfall.

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But just as things calmed down, we spotted lanterns outside. More guards.

They started yelling for whoever was inside to come out. There was a squatter in the house who got caught in the middle. They pressured him until he finally mentioned hearing something by the barn. Sure enough, guards started heading our way.

We were hiding in that damn barn. I tried to take one down quietly, but the silence didn’t last long. The rest came in fast, and we had to fight our way out again. Bullets flying everywhere. Then the whole place caught fire literally.

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We ran for it and made it into the woods. Uncle said we should split up to throw them off. I stuck with him, unfortunately.

We ducked behind some rocks, and when guards got close, we tried to take them out quiet. I told Uncle to go left, I’d take the right. Naturally, he screwed it up, and I had to bail him out.

Then we heard more shooting deeper in the woods. Bill and Charles were in trouble. I rushed in and helped finish off the rest.

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Somehow, we were all still standing. Uncle tried to say we got paid, so it was worth it. But now we had Cornwall breathing down our necks again. “It was an honest mistake,” he said. I told Uncle we’d talk later.

Then I told everyone to split up. Run. Get lost. No sense dragging the heat back to camp. As we disappeared into the trees, all I could think was how one dumb idea just made our lives a whole lot harder.

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Disclaimer

^{Arthur Morgan and the world of Red Dead Redemption 2 might be fictional creations by Rockstar Games, but my love for this game? 100% real. This is a new kind of adventure I wanted to bring to Steemit. I’m narrating the story of RDR2 from the perspective of its protagonist, Arthur Morgan, offering a fresh and immersive take on his journey. Rather than directly copying the game’s dialogues, I’m weaving Arthur’s emotions and experiences into a creative and fictional retelling. You can also experience this story in a cinematic way. I play the game, record my gameplay, edit the footage in the best possible way, and upload it to my YouTube channel. This way, after reading each story episode, you can watch it unfold like a movie.}

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