'you make me crazy,
you make me wild'

-

The weeks now seemed to surge onwards since you had entered the happiest, highest state of mood you had done in what felt like seemingly forever. Those moments you managed to escape with Arthur from camp for your 'lessons' were the ones you treasured dearly.

Of course you were learning how to use various guns, from rifles to revolvers – but also it meant you had a few hours away from prying eyes to spend with the gunslinger. Compared to the grouch from a few weeks back, the Arthur who had finally let you in was so, so different. It was obvious to see he was just as pleased with his decision to finally give into his feelings as you were.

"You're gettin' almost too good at this." He praised you one day after you'd shot down a bird from the sky, the thing plummeted quickly down to the ground below and landed with a thud a few metres away from you in the grass. Cockily, you leaned the rifle against your shoulder and gave Arthur a coy smirk.

"Watch it cowboy," you teased, aiming the rifle at him. "It might be you next." You whispered, mocking his accent.

Arthur chuckled at your playful mannerism,  approaching you slowly, fingertips pressing the barrel of the gun down to the ground.

"You wouldn't do that, you'd soon regret it." He replied, his voice was low and the tone sent a shameful pang of glee through you. Damn this man, with words that wrapped around you like a silk ribbon – the softest, sultry caress.

"You're right," you said then, a honeyed look in your (eye colour) eyes, "I think I still have my uses for you."

The rifle was then slung carefully over your shoulder by it's strap, as you very gladly closed the space between yourself and Arthur. The moment his hands met your hips gave you that perfect feeling of completion. It was a gesture you found greatly sparked a sense of elation within your stomach; every time he did it. He was so changed now, from the withheld, difficult creature he had been previously.

"D'ya think any of them has figured out about us yet?" he had asked you with a boyish smirk, that framed ever so perfectly on his handsome face. The gesture only succeeded in setting the biggest grin off on your expression.

"I think so... Dutch has, I see the smug look on his face when he sees us leave camp." You responded, followed by a short shrug, "But the others? I think they have their assumptions... but I think they just want us to confirm it."

"Ahhh.... We will do one day, that's for sure." Arthur returned, releasing his hold on you to walk back to the horses. That temporary emptiness filled you, and you rushed to catch up to his side. It was almost embarrassing how much you always wanted to be at his side since the pair of you had agreed to start courting.

You also worried about him endlessly now when he went out on little missions with the boys, you always feared he wouldn't return. It was the most horrid plague of anxiousness you ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

"I'm sure we'll get caught." You blurted to Arthur once you had mounted Boxer to head back up to camp, the big shire less than pleased about having to stop grazing to walk.

"Caught?" Arthur started to laugh in a way that encouraged you to elaborate.

"Yeah – you know," you started, looking over to your left at him. He even rode so coolly, comfortably slouched on Phantom's saddled back – reins in one hand and other arm just relaxed, hanging there.

"Someone's bound to see you grabbing me like you do, or when we kiss each other goodnight-" talking about it even caused the smallest rose blush to creep onto your cheeks. You felt like a stupid young girl with a crush.

"It don't bother you, does it? About us bein' found out?" Arthur then asked with a serious expression, leaning across with his free hand to grab Boxer's reins and pulled the horse gently closer to Phantom, causing the pair of you to be right beside each other.

"No – no of course not." You replied with a giddy smile at the new closeness. "You are all my family now... I don't want us to live in secrecy." You said with a confidence, sweeping your loose (hair colour) hair behind your ear.

A gentle and considerate smile played on Arthur's lips then, and it was easy enough for him to lean across to the right ever so slightly – cup your jaw and pull you in for a soft, sweet chaste kiss that had you craving more.

"Good." He added with a husky tone, after withdrawing from your petal-pink lips – a charmed look on his expression. You often wondered if he was just as spell-bound by you as you were by him... it was something you assumed was surely not possible.

This moment – the perfect summer's day, beautiful warm light casting it's rays across the lush and untamed landscape, a gentle sweet breeze that smelt of wonderful wild pine trees and fresh flowers – paired with the perfect solitary occasion, just yourself and Arthur... It kindled such a fervent level pure white joy within you. This was everything you had wanted, something that gave you a purpose... a sense of belonging – feeling cared for and desired after such a horribly dark and bleak start to your life in this new country.

This moment seemed so perfect to say the one thing you had been wanting to say to Arthur for at least a week now, but had been slightly worried it would be too soon for him. That one 'L' word that would mean the absolute world to you.

Your lips parted, breath bated and heart rushing like a herd of wild mustangs'-

"Oi oi! What's all this then!?" came some stupidly giddy Irish tones from the treeline surrounding Horseshoe Overlook.

Well, if that didn't kill the moment then what else could?

It was also ironic he should spot you both, following the discussion yourself and Arthur had just had.

"Hello, Sean." You replied, feeling a little embarrassed now that Sean had been watching the pair of you.

"I bloody well knew it! I had a feeling youse' two was hiding sometin'." The Irish man sneered as the pair of you calmly plodded past him on the horses'.

Arthur wasn't saying anything, but you could see the huge, humoured smile on his face at Sean's reaction.

"What the bloody hell do you want with an old man like him, eh?" Sean pressed you, Boxer lumbering past, hooves heavy in the dry dirt and fallen leaves. The statement from Sean made you look back, a questioning gaze about you – but you still had to smirk. Like you were going to explain the in's and out's of your feelings to a man who would only go and take the piss out of your lover for it.

"And what business of yours is it, Mr MacGuire?" you replied playfully, watching the sneer cross Sean's expression. He was clearly loving this banter, you were sure it was his favourite pastime.

"Young guns are where it's at now, love. That's all I'm sayin'." Sean raised his hands in a cockily nonchalant fashion. From just ahead of you, you heard Arthur break into a half splutter of laughter.

"More like dumb guns." He responded, and rode onwards up to camp with you giggling in tow.

It was rather laughable when the stumped stammers and bumbles from Sean could be heard, as if he was trying to figure out a strong comeback – but could feel his window of time slipping from his reach.

"You-! You bastard, I heard that!" Sean called up to you both, he sounded in disbelief of himself that he had been beaten at his own game.

The camp was in a calm state once you emerged from the thicket of the trees – it was that time of day where friends could sit down for a game of cards, or just catch up for a small chat around the campfire. It was much better than the heavy bustle of the mornings – Miss Grimshaw shouting at the girls, or Pearson usually. It was made even worse if the boys were out a mission, because they were always so loud when discussing and reaffirming their plans. A calm and quiet slow rise was always greeted with welcome by yourself.

"The wanderers' returns." Dutch chimed loudly, swanning over to yourself and Arthur as the pair of you had dismounted and were busy untacking and brushing your horses. 

He was taking slow drags of his cigars, the scent pungent against the sweet summer air.

"How'd it go today, Miss (name)? Gettin' better?" Dutch asked you, a friendly and somewhat hopeful smile on his face. You were confident enough with yourself to smile back, brushing Boxer's underbelly near his front legs where the girth had been and caused some sweating from the horse.

"Really good Dutch... Arthur has been such a good teacher." You explained, smiling over Boxer's back at Arthur who smiled at you in a sweetly simple manner, gazing over Phantom's back as he brushed the Dutch Warmblood's silky black mane.

"Nah, she's just bein' modest, Dutch." Arthur interjected with a smile, "(name) is a real good shot, I need to remember not to get on her bad side." The outlaw joked with his Gang leader. Dutch's low rumble of laughter filled the air around you both, and he took another slow puff of the smoking cigar he held carefully between his fingers.

"Well eitherway, it's good news. Means we got more chance of keepin' those goddamn O'Driscolls' off our backs." Dutch concluded in a finalising tone, patting Arthur on the shoulder promptly.

"Oh – and son, John's been waitin' for you to get back. Said something about a job he's found out about." Dutch encouraged Arthur, who sighed slightly after looking at the state of Phantom's dusty and dry-sweat covered coat.

"Just go, Arthur." You assured, "I'll sponge him down and brush him off. Don't keep Mr Marston waiting any longer."

Arthur looked as if he might argue back at you, but then saw the look in Dutch's dark eyes that said 'do as the girl says'.

"Sure... thank you, (name)." Arthur replied, setting the brush down and heading off across camp to find John. It was rather sweet, as he kept looking back at you whilst walking away – clearly to check you were as fine with the tasks as you said you would be. You just laughed at him, shaking your head softly whilst you continued using the rough dandy brush to remove the dirt from Boxer's short strawberry roan coat. Whilst you were doing so, you had become aware that Dutch hadn't moved. The smartly dressed Gang leader leaned against one of the hitching posts, ring-adorned fingers twiddling the cigar whilst he watched you closely.

"You, being here – joinin' us.." Dutch started in a quiet tone, watching you brush Boxer's large body, "It was a really good thing."

That statement warmed you immensely; stepping back from Boxer with the brush in your hand, you bore a rather soppy smile to Dutch. The look on his face caused him to chuckle in a light hearted manner.

"Oh... Dutch, you don't know how much it means to me to hear that." You responded, taking a deep breath in and savouring the feeling you had – a real sense of belonging... these people were your family now.

Dutch patted your shoulder gently. "Don't worry, missy. I know exactly what it means." He smiled sincerely, such a look of kindness and warm welcoming on his face. You got the impression he was just thankful someone had come around to really make Arthur happy for the first time in a long time.

"You take care now." He finalised, and wandered back across towards his tent with a regal stride of ownership and power, surveying the gentle level of activity around the camp.

What a perfect statement, you had thought – to end this seemingly wonderful day.

To think, those months ago you had dreamed of running off from this camp – thinking you had no place or future here... and now your life was sweet like cinnamon, like a dream you existed in every day. You never wished for this feeling to end... but you knew, you were excited for what was to come.

And part of what that future would determine, would be down to you finally plucking up the courage to say those three sweet little words to Arthur.

It had to come soon.

---

"It's fool proof, Arthur." John's slightly gravelly tones exclaimed after the long and detailed explanation of what this 'job' would entail. "We just take Karen, she sweet talks the folk, we get in there – and take the money. It don't have to be messy." Marston said, pacing around the front of the log Arthur had been sat on, mulling over the story he had just listened to.

"... How many men we gonna need?" Arthur asked then, his cool blue eyes flashing up to John who was still pacing around.

"It ain't a big job... I'm thinkin' me, you, Javier and Sean... and Karen, of course." John concluded, stopping his incessant pacing to take a look at Arthur, hoping to find confirmation in the man's eyes.

After a fair pause, Arthur took a sturdy deep breath and stood up from his seat on the log, a hopeful look in Marston's dark green eyes.

"Okay... Sure, I'll do it." Arthur responded, hands lazily resting on his belt as it often did.

"Thanks, Arthur." John replied quickly, "You won't regret this. There'll be some good earnings offa' this!" he was half shouting as Arthur had already turned to walk away.

"There better be. Or I ain't gonna be happy." Arthur mumbled to himself, tipping the brim of his hat further into his eyes to shade his glance from the glaring sun.

The details of the job were now swirling around in Arthur's head, as the gunslinger double checked with himself that everything seemed as fool-proof as it could be. Arthur often did like jumping into jobs that hadn't been planned out or scoped well... as the years had gone by, he found it often made him incredibly skeptical.

Wandering out towards the cliff for a much needed smoke, the outlaw passed your tent. He stopped to see you laid out on your bed-roll in your pretty periwinkle blue dress, book open whilst you laid on your stomach, taking in the enthralling story out in front of you – even whilst the strands of your (hair colour) hair spilled into your eyeline freely.

Arthur had to admit to himself the view of you rather innocently laid there with your nose in a book was most appealing in a delicately innocent fashion, – the way a rose in full bloom appeals to the human eye. His current course for a cigarette then dissolved as he leaned on one of the supported posts of your tent.

You, yourself- had only noticed Arthur's presence when a large shadow was cast across your book, detaching you from the story at hand.

"Whatchu' readin then?" he asked you with a curious tone about those slow, low drawls. You cocked a smile as you looked up, not that you could see much of the usual details of his handsome face due to the blaring light of the sun behind him.

"Just a romance book I borrowed from Mary Beth." You had replied, looking back down at the pages, "She said it was a good read so I figured I could take a look." You hummed, delicate fingers turning the page with the ambient and pleasing paper-crinkling sound as the page turned.

You could hear a singular chuckle from Arthur, who had now moved to come and sit himself down beside you on the bed roll.

"I wanna say I'm surprised you're readin' something like that... but I aint." He humoured you, "Is it any good so far?"

You mulled over this question for a couple of seconds, you were wondering whether he was genuinely interested or whether he was just trying to find an excuse to have an conversation with you.

Sighing softly, you slipped the strip of red ribbon between the page and closed the book shut softly, setting down on the end of the bed roll.

"It's good... our female main character is a little conflicted... she's in love with a potentially dangerous man with a bit of a background... it's very interesting." You said, and then started to smirk realising the obvious similarities between the book and your real situation.

Arthur had rather clearly caught onto it to, gazing out across the camp in front of him whilst he snickered.

"Why you botherin' to read a story like that when you're runnin' with us?" he queried playfully, flashing those ice blue eyes at you. Once more, you found yourself lost in the pools of his gaze.

"I'm not sure... guess I'm just a sucker for a good story." You smiled over at him, rolling onto your back as you looked at the upside down view of the man you so adored.

"There's something about a girl in a story.... Playing dangerous... living life on the edge." You confessed, watching as Arthur smiled down at you affectionately, his hand reaching across and tenderly sweeping some of the hair out of your face.

"Sure, whatever you say." He replied, still smiling down at you. He carefully took his time in brushing those strands of hair out of your face, and you treasured every second.

"So... Mr Morgan," you started in a playfully posh tone, "What did John want?"

Arthur sighed a little at your question, twirling a strands of your locks loosely around his finger.

"Some job we're meant to be takin' on tonight." He replied shortly, and instantly the mention of a job made you open your eyes again.

"Is it dangerous?" you asked, a gentle level of worry on your tones that you tried to keep somewhat under wraps. Arthur could see right through you, like you were translucent.

"No... not really, as John says. He told me it don't need to be a messy job if we can help it." Arthur responded, knowing you would still be worrying none the less. And it was true, until he arrived back at that camp, safe – then you would be up, restless.

The next moments were wordless, whilst you stared up at the bright blue sky above, spotted a trio of three geese honking loudly as they arrowed across the sky. Arthur hadn't stopped teasing with the strands of your hair, watching you try not to look worried – when it was so obvious you were stewing over it.

"Don't be making yourself unwell, stressin' out over me." Arthur informed, his tone was almost scolding. "I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart."

You knew he was more than capable of firing a gun and taking down hoards of idiots, but you still panicked that one missed second could be a game changer for him... and end his life.

"I know you can, but it won't stop me worrying... Not until I see you back here, safe." You replied with a burdened sigh, sitting up in the cover of the tent to watch John wandering across the camp, catching Karen and Javier by the campfire. You didn't listen all to hard but you heard mention of a job, and assumed they must've been tagging along.

"Well alright, I've tried." You heard Arthur say from beside you. He patted your knee softly before re-emerging into the daylight from the little corner of shade and safety in your tent. Your (eye colour) eyes watched attentively as Arthur went to join the conversation between John, Karen and Javier. Watching them all huddled together and chatting low like they were, just instantly sparked a sense of nervousness in you about the later-scheduled job.

You decided it was best, if you just buried your nose back in that book – and pretended nothing was happening.

----

The sense of excitement was abundant in the air, thick and tense – even the horses had picked up on it – chucking their heads about and stamping their hooves in an eager fashion.

John, Sean and Arthur were stood by their mounts in the low-lamp light, all preparing the horses for the job.

"What time does the carriage come through then, John?" Sean asked across to John, who was tightening the girth of his horse's saddle. His mount, a dark bay with a silvery mane – named 'Old Boy', had angrily put his ears flat back in protest to the tightening of the girth around his middle.

Arthur could see an incident about the happen, and grabbed Old Boy's reins to stop him throwing his head around and biting John.

"It should be passing out of Valentine now – we're gonna catch them as they go out towards Emerald Ranch – where there's not a lot of people passin' by." John called to Sean, none the wiser to the fact Arthur had just prevented a potentially nasty horse bite.

Sean nodded, an enthusiastic look on his expression. "It's good to get out on a job, y'know? Me Da always said-"

"No, god – Sean... not this again." Arthur groaned, and John in turn was grizzling, picking some of the stones out of Old Boy's hooves.

"Yeah – not the 'Da' again..." Marston added. The two men's behaviour had rather disconcerted Sean, who as usual, put up a defensive act.

"Well alright then! You two miserable gits are missin' out on some valuable words of advice-" the Irish man declared, not that John and Arthur were much in dismay – the pair just rolled their eyes at one another.

The mission seemed all set and ready to go – before Javier rushed over, a disappointed look in his dark eyes.

"What's the problem, Javier?" Arthur asked, his hand stroking the front of Old Boy's long face whilst watching the rather irritated expression grow on the man's face.

"I've only been to go and get Karen, and she's drunk a whole bottle of whiskey and passed out by her wagon." Javier grizzled in irritation, and John's face filled with dread.

"What!? Are you kiddin' me!?" Marston cried, kicking the dirt in frustration. "Goddamn it!"

The atmosphere turned bleak – Karen was a key part of the plan, and without her – there was no way the boys could get close enough to the carriage without causing an unnecessary amount of fuss.

For a few seconds, it seemed as if they would have to let this job go... but then Arthur had a rather bright idea.

"Excuse me for a moment, boys." Arthur said, quickly skirting off across the camp. His head was rushing, part of him knew this was a crazy idea... but it could work.

He stopped just by your tent, catching you in there by your oil lamp, still buried in your book.

"(name)." he called, which quickly dragged your attention out of the immersive storyline. You looked out into the darkness, only illuminated by the nearby glowing campfire. Arthur was stood there, kitted out as his usually was for his jobs. Long line dark coat, hips littered with various different weapons – a bandolier crossing his front, ram packed full with ammo.   You smiled to yourself softly once again at how handsome he always seemed to look, even when he was armed to the teeth with all sorts of dangerous weapons.

"Are you ok?" you asked, closing the book quietly. There was hint of uncertainty in Arthur's grey-blue eyes.

"Uhm... sure." He started, his tones were decidedly wavering – and it immediately set off some little red flags in your brain. He wasn't usually like this. "Can... Can I ask you a favour, sweetheart?" he furthered, offering his hand out to help you up off your bedroll where you had been sat.

Frowning cautiously, you took Arthur's rough and weathered hand as he pulled you up, and clutched onto your hands tightly.

"Now... I know you're not gonna like this, but I wanna ask you to help us out on this job-" he'd barely finished before you backed away in dispute.

"Absolutely not!" you called, but Arthur took your hands once more.

"Please, (name) – I'm beggin' you." He tried once more, "You know I would never let no harm come to you... it's just a small job, I swear." The gunslinger reiterated with those needy tones that were wearing you down a little.

"You know how to handle a gun now, darlin' – you would be fine if you did need to use it." He added as if it was to further sway his argument. Your (eye colour) eyes had darted across the camp to where John, Javier and Sean were stood- looking back across at you in confusion as to what Arthur's plan was exactly.

Sighing, you reverted your look back to the man before you – the one you trusted immensely. If he said he wouldn't let any harm come to you... then you had to trust him for that.

"Fine." You sighed deeply, rolling your eyes at yourself for giving in ever so quickly. "But you better be right about this Arthur Morgan, or I will kill you." You groaned uncertainly, watching as Arthur grabbed your suede brown coat from within your tent and put it on for you – still being a gentleman even in his moment's of desperate need.

As he dragged your hand towards the group of horses – you wondered just exactly what you might be pulled into next...

--

A/N: This chapter is going to be like a two part-er... because if I did this in one whole chapter I think it would be like 9000 words.

See you all in the next chapter.