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I found Dutch back at camp and he was restless as always. Said he was sweating, though only from being stuck in that swamp. I couldn’t blame him, this place was a miserable, disease-ridden hole. I asked about what Trelawny said earlier regarding the bounty hunters. Dutch claimed he wasn’t worried, though he admitted to “a little gentle perspiration.” That was his way of saying he was uneasy.

He then told me to check in on Trelawny anyway and see what he knew, and also said Charles ought to come with me. According to Dutch, the two of us together could charm secrets out of a statue. I went to find Charles. Didn’t take long. Told him we had business in town. He agreed to come without question.

On the way, I explained Dutch wanted us to talk with Trelawny about the hunters. Charles joked that we were deputies now. He further pointed out the irony of running from one group of lawmen while working for another. I laughed and said Dutch called it “hiding in plain sight.”

We talked about camp as we rode. Charles thought that spirits of everyone in the camp were high. I agreed. It had been quiet with no Pinkertons in sight. Just the bounty hunters, though Dutch didn’t seem worried. He said Trelawny seemed a strange fellow. I told him not to worry, he was just a cockroach in fancy clothes, always finding cracks the rest of us couldn’t.

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When we reached Trelawny’s camp, it was clear something was wrong. The food was untouched, the bed unmade, like he left in a hurry. Then we saw blood. We figured out that the fight had happened earlier. Tracks led into the woods, so we followed.

A little further on, we came across two strangers. I asked after Trelawny, and they gave themselves away with their answers. It turned into a fight, quick and rough. When it was done, one finally admitted Trelawny had been dragged off to a cabin near Braithwaite Manor. I let him live, but warned him not to cross me again.

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We cut around the Braithwaite place and came up on the cabin. There was Trelawny, beaten but alive. I leveled my revolver and the bounty hunters scattered.

Charles and I chased them into the cornfields. One by one we put them down, though the last nearly had me with a rope around my neck. Charles saved me with a clean knife throw. I was grateful.

Then came some more bounty hunters, but we fought them off and finally quieted the place. We went back for Trelawny, who was shaken but alive. He swore he hadn’t told them much. Trelawny said he would stick with us for a while, couldn’t return to his caravan. I told Charles to take him back to camp while I stayed behind.

Later that night, writing in my journal, I thought about it all. Feels like civilization keeps creeping in no matter where we go. I want to be back in the open country, the West, or what’s left of it. But even that doesn’t look the way I remember anymore.

(to be continued...)

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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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