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 Chapter 10
"Loving & Unloving Memories"

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" -Horseshoe Overlook- "

"Yesterday, I recalled Arthur talking to Mary-Beth. His words - something about the world not wanting us kinds of folks no more - I couldn't help but overhear it.
It's been a few weeks. Days? I haven't had the slightest of clue, honestly. I never had paid much attention or bother to keep track of them days..."

Tulip was writing and drawing the corpse that had been seared into her memory, as if it was branding someone's skin. The beast of midnight swallowed her surroundings with its jaws of darkness. Tulip was laying on her somewhat comfy makeshift bed, busily focused upon her journal, much like Arthur from ways across the serene camp. The orange light from the lantern highlighted his figure, he was laying on his back though.

"Nasty sight, I saw."

Her pencil was quivering at such a vivid memory.

"Disgusts me to my very core. The very thought of it, the intentions, the process..."

Tulip accidentally wrote too fast and she misspelled in her cursive writings, she scribbled it out angrily.

"It revolts me. I wonder if I should forget it or if I should speak to Hosea about this - he always seems to understand."

She was pausing at every end of her written sentence, Tulip was thinking deeply, troubled. She glanced at the shiny silver pocket watch sitting next to her desk, ticking. Sometimes, when she was too concentrated on writing or sketching, the ticking would fade away. Tulip would unintentionally make time fly as her mind would be struck in a trance of dreamland.

"Perhaps I shouldn't. I don't want to burden anyone with my sorry life anyway."

With that, she placed her pencil in her book and closed it, ending the entry with a bitter thought. She rolled over on her back staring at the cloth that hung over her cot from their wagon. The journal laid on her belly carelessly as she sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Tulip didn't feel sleepy at all. No matter how hard she tried to tear her mind away of that disturbing scenery, she just kept thinking about it. It kept worming its way into each crack of her mind's mental barrier, feasting on her anxiousness.

Her mind wandered endlessly as she found herself still staring above her, she began to think of random things.

First, she gazed at the flower pin that folded the brim of her hat. She thought of her own name, Tulip. A flower that resembled love and romance, she'd scoff sourly at herself. It led to her next thought, about the flower in a jar next to Arthur's bed. Arthur Morgan, who was still somehow awake, when she shifted her head. Knowing how late it was, she had never realized that he would stay up quite a while. The beautiful flower in the jar was something his mother loved, it was in vibrant red. She can't quite remember when he had told her about it and bits of his own life, but it was surely years ago. Back when the gang was small, he didn't say too much himself. But before his old journal had burned in some fire, that book kept the backstories of Arthur's personal and tragic life. Willow didn't steal that one, because they both knew that he was broken back then.

She chuckled at herself miserably. Everyone was broken at some point over some...atrocious tragedy, and some were still reliving their memories of anguish.

Upon thinking of those events days ago and punching Micah square in the jaw, she thought of his words. Then her mind drifted to someone at the outskirts of the camp, taking the night shifts of standing guard. Bill Williamson, the man which Micah had made fun of countlessly. Truth be told, everyone felt like they were more when following Dutch. More of what? She couldn't explain it herself, but it certainly felt like it made her so much more.

Dutch Van Der Linde, the leader of one of the most notorious gangs in the West. Definitely had a growing reputation due to the botched ferry heist. She had no idea where to start with this man, Tulip shook her head. He's charming, yet a dangerous fellow, a man who has pride that could crush you like a feeble insect.

She immediately thought of Blackwater.

So many men and women fell during that day.

Tulip was reminiscing the moments, everything was normal and calm. It was just like any other day, no mass hysteria, no grand shootout, no nothing. Willow and her were at the Blackwater Saloon, she remembered that Arthur had one day leaned on some pole and beautifully sketched it out.

Willow and her were dressed in a almost-flamboyant outfit, no matter how many white men would brush Tulip off because of her brown skin, even they couldn't resist their lustful selves.

Tulip and Willow would have them sneak into some small room, close the door and windows, then knock them out, taking whatever money the girls could salvage. She couldn't quite recall what ferry it was that the gang had planned to rob, it could've been the Morningstar Ferry, or something other than that. Not that it quite mattered. But all Hell came loose, the sudden crack of gunfire was truly deafening. Especially when there was flying bullets from the windows and shattering glass. That was the first wakeup call to something going terribly disastrous, the town was shot up and she had remembered Willow and her had to sneak through the hysterical civilians in order to slip away from the Pinkertons.

They appeared out of the blue, Jenny wasn't too far away from the two so they regrouped first. But the Pinkertons, Tulip could never forget, Willow didn't see it, but one of the Pinkertons agents who had called her a savage was the very same one that had planted a bullet in poor Lil' Jen's gut while they were trying to escape on horseback. Tulip still had the man's voice ingrained into her memory.

Arthur and Hosea were at some secluded warehouse near the docks, they're were doing a real estate scam. But she figured that their client got killed during the shootout. None of them knew what was happening, but Willow was panicking because of Jen when they had all came together.

The poor girl died before Davey Callander did on their way to Colter.

Tulip scolded herself and cursed at herself, she should've paid better attention and rode at the back to take the shot. But instead, she chose to feel responsible for the Irish girl's murder and willingly buried her somewhere at Spider Gorge, at least it was a place were Jenny would've liked to visit. That young woman had always loved to spend her time near rivers and watching the animals play, both her and Willow.

Shaking her head, Tulip closed her eyes.

Listening to the ticks of the watch, she waited. Waited for what? Tulip didn't know. It was obviously sleep, but the slumber of shadows never came. She ripped open her eyelids, not knowing what to do. Tulip couldn't sleep at all. She looked at Willow, who was sound asleep, Tulip had thanked the Great Spirit for preventing Willow on seeing such a revolting scene. She quietly got off her bed, leaving her brown folded hat sitting on the table. Tulip was questioning herself, what was she doing? She had no answer, she was just loitering around camp like some lost animal.

Tulip sighed once again, she had wished that each one could lift the weight off her body and mind, but it was fruitless. She sat and leaned her spine on a tree, still in camp. She ran her cold, thin fingers through her tangled auburn hair, cursing at the accidental harsh tugging of her scalp. She stared at the skies above, the stars blinking and gleaming against the nightly canvas.

She took a moment, gazing at them. Tulip had her chapped lips curled into a sad, small smile. With her name and the flower in the jar, she thought of her parents. Dear God, oh how she had loved them so.

Then her smile disappeared. Still gazing.

It's been such a long time since she had seen the stars above the Heartlands. It's been so many years since her parent's passing, yet she still missed them. Yet, the stars are all still there, forever watching gracefully at the world below in which she is dwelling in.

"What are you doing still up?" She heard a voice beside her.

Tulip turned her head, not very surprised to have Arthur notice her. She just shrugged, letting her head rest on the bark of the tree as her chocolate irises continued looking at the stars.

He looked around the camp, then sighed. "You seem... Distracted lately."

Tulip looked at him, not bothering if she had formed a sorrow-filled frown. "Mm..." She hummed in response.

Arthur scratched his beard, which has grown quite a long lately. It reminded him that he needs some shaving to do. "This is usually Hosea's job, but, uh..." He exhaled through his nose and took a seat next to Tulip. "What's the matter?"

She hesitated, waving him off. Arthur, however, didn't bother to move and dismiss it. It took a few long moments before she had the will to confess it. Tulip eventually shrugged once more and ran her hand through her hair again. "Jus'... No sleep..."

He replied, his husky voice quiet and gentle. "You're startin' to sound like Mrs. Adler, Tulip. You both need to get out more." Then, he quickly added, "Huntin' don't count."

Tulip closed her mouth at that, only the few members of the gang knew that hunting was actually her excuse and a way to avoid them. These past few couple of weeks, she didn't take Willow on hunting trips. Usually she would, but Tulip tried her best to hide her problems, especially to whom she considered as a daughter who cares about Tulip just as much.

"Maybe you need to head to Valentine with us tomorrow. That lazy drunkard Uncle's finally got something to do."

Tulip laughed at that, making her signs slower than usual so Arthur could understand it easier. His green, emerald eyes carefully watched her movements. Her little grin melting away, "Corpse." She spelled out, knowing that it was enough to explain it all.

He nodded, "Can't stop thinkin' about it either huh. Look, I don't know what else to say, but you should just forget about it." He then paused, reluctant to state it. "Did that... Remind you of something terrible back then?"

Tulip didn't nod, because Arthur already had his answer.

"Well," He patted her shoulder. "At least that's in the past. I'm sure you probably told that old huckster more than the rest of us, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Try an' get some rest, I know how it feels, but don't get too buried in your journal."

A blush of embarrassment caked her cheeks, she tried to pull her hat down, but she had forgotten that she wasn't wearing one. Arthur chuckled and she got even more flustered, shoving him away, then quickly heading to her cot.

Taking out the map she took from the dismembered head, she took one quick glance at the initials.

Guess Arthur's right, but I may not be able to let this go... Not this time.
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A/N : I was going to add the next mission for this chapter, but it eventually became too long and is now its own. Sorry if it's like a filler of some sort, but it does show that in the inside, Tulip's deeply troubled. I just kept writing all night and had my own mind wander around too, eventually, I somehow went into a few more details regarding the Blackwater Massacre and Jenny Kirk (may have been Irish due to her last name, says on wiki). Even bringing up a familiar name, Morningstar, to those who played RDR1 and remembered the opening scene.

Truth be told, I was going to have Hosea talk to Tulip, but I shall save that for another time.

What's funny is that the mission, "A Polite Society, Valentine Style" is the journal entry I'm making for Arthur's journal recreation thing lol.

Published : whoops! It's a new year! Jan.1, 2019!