Sometimes, life chooses favorites. But more often, the good people, who do what they must to get by, aren’t so lucky. Arthur Morgan was one of those people. His entire life has been one giant disaster, for twenty years since the day he joined Dutch Van der Linde. Nothing but running from the law and knocking off banks. According to Dutch, it was all in pursuit of a better life for the gang. How blind they were to believe it could ever be true?

For months, someone within their gang ratted them out to the Pinkerton Detective Agency. It was only after their final train robbery and saving Abigail Roberts did Arthur realize the mole was none other than Micah Bell. He’d always known Micah was a loose cannon, and yet he never would’ve figured he’d be the one to betray them.

To make matters worse: Arthur had been diagnosed with Tuberculosis some time back. The disease slowly but surely affected his lungs, shutting them down. He knew he was a dead man walking that moment forward, but he pressed on as best as he could.

Here he was now, surely the last leg of his life. Shortly after escaping Van Horn and the Pinkertons, Arthur, along with Abigail and Sadie Adler found a spot to stop so Arthur could rest. He was wheezing like crazy, coughing up more blood since discovering his tuberculosis.

“Arthur, there’s no time,” Sadie insisted.

“There’s time,” Arthur disagreed breathlessly.

He stretched out his arms toward Abigail, who sat along the rump of Sadie’s horse.

“What happened to John?” Abigail asked. “Where’s John?”

“I-I don’t,” Arthur began. “I think…”

Arthur held out his arms again, helping Abigail down. Sadie also dismounted, holding onto Abigail.

“Arthur…”

“He…” Arthur began with a shaky voice.

“What?”

“He got killed or he got captured.”

“No…” Abigail lowered her head.

Sadie kept hold of Abigail, as she almost lost her balance. Over the knowledge that her husband, John Marston, could very well be dead.

“I’m really sorry, Abigail. I’m…”

“No!” Abigail cried out.

“I was on the train and didn’t see it.”

“No-o-o-o-o…” Abigail sobbed.

Arthur closed in on her, slowly turning her head so her teary eyes could meet his.

“Listen, we got Jack,” Arthur assured. “Mrs. Adler will take you to him, but… John… I want you to know this… he loved you. He loved you and Jack, he did. He wasn’t perfect, but he did. Now… you gotta go get that boy. Go on, get outta here.”

Sadie started to climb back onto her hose.

“Arthur, what are you doin’?”

“I gotta go have a little chat before I get much sicker.”

“Oh, Arthur…” Abigail cried.

“Don’t you ‘Oh, Arthur’ me… neither of you two, not now. You both know.”

Arthur put Abigail on the back of Sadie’s horse.

“You’re good women… good people. The best. You go get that boy… there’ll be time for sorrow later.”

“I-If you’re headed back there, Arthur,” Abigail reached into her shirt. “Take this. I don’t… need it anymore.”

Abigail shows Arthur what appears to be a key.

“What’s that?”

“There’s a chest in them caves. In the back to the left. Hidden under a wagon. Dutch’s chest. With all out money. I know John told you I knew where it was.”

She gave the key to Arthur, who looked at it in disbelief. Arthur released a breath of surprise, as he turned back toward Abigail.

“Abigail Roberts.”

Abigail took Arthur’s hand, as tears flowed down her face, knowing this might be the last time she ever saw him.

“I always was a good thief,” She cried.

“That you was. Go on, get outta here.”

Arthur turned away from them and got on the back of his white Arabian horse, Serena, as the women left. Looking out through the trees, Arthur reached into his bag and pulled out his signature hat which he placed upon his head.

“Come on girl. Time for one last ride”

He gave a kick and Serena galloped off leading them back to the gang’s camp at Beaver Hollow. All the while, Arthur’s thoughts were flooded with words of praise from those he helped over the last few months.

“You’re a good man. If only you’d done it before he worked hisself into the grave.”

“I’m really sorry for you son. It’s a hell of a thing.”

“You saved my life. You’re a good man.”

“Thank you feller. You know there ain’t enough kindness in the world that’s for sure.”

The sun began to set over the horizon overlooking Beaver Hollow, as what remained of the Van der Linde gang proceeded to pack away the camp. The only ones left in the group were Javier Esquella, Bill Williamson, Susan Grimshaw, and a few of Micah’s hired hands. Overseeing the process was none other than the unpredictable, Micah Bell. The unhinged cowboy grew increasingly impatient with each passing moment that the camp was not moved.

“Get them backs packed up quick, Miss Grimshaw!” Micah demanded. “Come on! All of you!”

“Well, we’re doin’ our best!” Susan Grimshaw snapped.

“Hurry, we ain’t got long… hurry!”

“We just got plenty of time, Micah.”

It was at the moment Arthur rode up on Serena, quickly climbing off his prized mare and hitched her up before walking quickly towards Micah. The man in question looked over his shoulder seeing Arthur making his way toward him.

“We all need to have a little chat.”

“Black Lung, you’re back!” Micah said, outstretching his arms with a bow. “That’s great! Hurray.”

Arthur looked back towards the tent near the mouth of the cave seeing none other than Dutch walk out. He sneered at the sharply dressed gang leader who left Abigail for the Pinkertons.

“I just saw Agent Milton, Dutch. Abigail shot him. She’s okay… not that you care too much about that. You rats… all of you!”

Arthur turned directly toward Micah.

“Seems Micah was pretty close with Milton,” Arthur accused.

“What the hell are you talking about, cowpoke?” Micah asked.

Arthur just stared daggers at the treasonous snake that sold him and the rest of the gang down the river.

“You talked!” Arthur confessed.

Though his demeanor nor his facial expressions admit it, Micah knew he had been found out. However, he still knew he had Dutch in his pocket, and he was going to continue trying to talk his way out.

“That’s a goddamn lie!” Micah yelled, turning to Dutch. “Dutch, think of the future!”

Dutch turned over toward Arthur.

“Milton told me,” Arthur added.

“And you believe him, Black Lung?” Micah chuckled.

“It all makes sense now,” Arthur shook his head.

“No… it damn well doesn’t!” Micah scowled.

Arthur quickly reached into his holster, pulling out his revolver. Micah did the same, as Bill and Javier pulled out their rifles. All the men were willing to kill one another here and now, as Dutch kept looking back and forth trying to figure out who to believe.

“Dutch, think!” Arthur snapped.

“Dutch, be practical now,” Micah warned.

Dutch continued to look between Arthur, who had been with him for twenty years, and Micah, who had helped him garner such a variety of wealth in such a short time. Just as it appeared he was about to make his decision, a new voice cut through the air and shocked them all.

“Dutch!”

Everyone turned toward the side, seeing John Marston stumble out of the foliage. He clutched his bleeding shoulder where he had been shot in the train robbery. It was shocking seeing as how Dutch said he was either dead or captured by the police.

“John?” Bill said.

“You left me…” John growled. “You left me to die!”

“My boy…” Dutch spoke, walking from his tent. “I didn’t have a choice. John, I didn’t…”

“You!”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Left me!”

“It wasn’t like that!” Dutch snarled.

“All of you… you pick your side now, because this is over,” Arthur said calmly. “All them years, Dutch… for this snake?!”

“Oh, be quiet, cowpoke!” Micah said. “Be quiet. You live in the clouds.”

“No,” Susan said, approaching with a shot gun. “You be quiet, Mr. Bell, and put down your gun.”

Then, Javier came running back to the group rapidly in great concern.

“There’s Pinkertons coming this way!” He said urgently.

During the distraction, Micah shot Susan right in the gut and she fell to the ground, groaning and moaning in pain. Dutch pulled out his guns, aiming at Arthur and Micah.

“Now! Who amongst you is with me…” He demanded, as his aim remained. “And ‘who’ is betrayin’ me?”

John joined Arthur’s side, but everyone else moved to Dutch’s.

“Bill, Javier, think… think for yourselves!” Arthur urged, starting to cough.

“He’s lyin!” Micah said. “Hee’sss lyyyiinnnggg!”

“Put your guns down!”

Suddenly, the Pinkertons swarmed their location in large numbers. Many of them with big guns. Shooting started, as everyone ducked for cover.

“God dammit!” Dutch shouted. “Move!”

Arthur took cover behind a large box to avoid the bullets blazing past him, while John hid behind a stack of crates.

“You ready, John?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah!” John replied.

“Everyone get down!” Dutch shouted.

“This is Agent Ross with the Pinkerton Detective Agency! Put your guns down!”

The firing of guns echoed through the air, as Arthur and John kept shooting and the Pinkertons kept gaining ground.

“The others have run for it!” John shouted.

“It’s just us anyways, John!” Arthur pointed out.

“Where’s Van der Linde?” Ross shouted to his men. “Get after them and find him!”

“Come on!” John yelled. “Into the caves!”

Arthur fires off a few more shots, killing a few more Pinkertons before following John deep into the mouth of the mountain. The two men proceed to climb the rocks and ledges of the cave, trying to reach the ladder leading to the outside.

“Those bastards left me for dead!” John snarled.

“Seems that’s what they do now!” Arthur barked. “Micah was the rat, John! Milton told me!”

“We should’ve killed him months ago!” John said.

John and Arthur climbed up the ladder, just as the sky turned black and the stars shined brightly on the night sky. It would have been beautiful, if not for the fact they were hunted down. Once up, Arthur bent over and wheezed out a few coughs. They ran down the hill and whistled for their mounts.

“Abigail… Abigail’s safe,” Arthur breathed out. “So’s Jack.”

“Where are they?” John asked.

“They’re with Sadie… at Copperhead Landing.”

John took Arthur’s hand.

“Thank you… brother.”

John went to go, but Arthur kept his grip on him.

“I want you… to not look back… like I said.”

Serena and Rachel came up and they mounted up. Suddenly, the remaining Van der Linde gang rode up on them and started shooting. Arthur and John rushed quickly down the trail when more Pinkertons showed up, but they dealt with them rather quickly. Yet they kept coming, more of them blocked the road ahead so they had to turn around. Arthur kept shooting and riding, and riding and shooting.

It was in that moment Arthur went flying off Serena, who’d been shot out of nowhere and they both fell to the ground. Arthur fell on his ass, got up, and started shooting every Pinkerton in sight. Apparently Rachel had been shot, leaving him and John with no mounts. Arthur went to Serena’s side, gently stroking her mane as what remained of her life slipped away.

“Thank you,” Arthur thanked her.

Arthur grabbed his bow, his arrows, his shotgun, and his repeater from his dead horse’s saddle.

“Arthur, let’s go!” John yelled.

Arthur turned back towards the burnt remains of the old camp, and he couldn’t stop thinking of the chest full of money Abigail told him about. He grabbed the key in his hand, turning back toward John.

“Well, what about the money?” He asked. “Abigail gave me the key.”

“I head down there and I’m dead in five minutes,” John shook his head. “I’ve got a family man, that’s more important.”

“Ah, maybe you’re right, but…”

John walked right up to Arthur and got in his face. It was the most intense Arthur has seen of John.

“You want the money?” John asked heatedly. “You head back down there. I gotta go to my family.”

Arthur looked between John and the burning remains of the camp. Sure, the money was ripe for the taking. But he also knew Abigail and little Jack were worth more than all that gold. Not to mention John was finally acting like a man for his family. There was no question what he wanted to do. Arthur put his hat back on his head, nodding at John.

“I’m coming with you.”

Arthur patted John on the shoulder, as he walked past him and started up the mountain with John following behind.

“I’m gonna get you out of this bullshit if it’s the last goddamn thing I do,” Arthur declared determinedly.

As they proceed up the mountain, more and more Pinkertons showed up and shot at them. Thankfully, both men ducked the barrage of bullets zipping by them and both hid behind a couple rocks. Arthur grabbed his shotgun, blasting a few Pinkertons with such force it knocked them right off the mountain. Once a majority of them were dead, they continued up the mountain until Arthur had to stop and cough, spitting up blood. He’d been greatly exceeding his limits throughout the entirety of this mission, and his health was only getting worse.

“Alright Arthur!” John called. “Come on, let’s go!”

Arthur looked up at John, then back at the rapidly approaching Pinkertons. They were quickly gaining ground; at this point, Arthur knew he was just dead weight. If he continued on with John, they’d both get captured and likely killed. He was already a dead man anyways, so he figured he could at least give John a chance.

“You go!” He waved John along.

John turned back towards Arthur, quickly making for his side as Arthur continued to cough.

“Keep pushing Arthur!” John encouraged.

Arthur let out another series of coughs before shaking his head.

“No…” Arthur coughed more blood. “No… I think I’ve pushed all I can.”

“We ain’t got time for this, not now!” John said. “Come on, we gotta go!”

Arthur just sighed, removing his hat from his head. He shook as he turned towards John.

“We ain’t both gonna make it,” He admitted. “Go… now. I’ll hold them off.”

Arthur took his hat, placing it directly on John’s head. He gave the boy a pat on the shoulder, giving him a small smile.

“It would mean a lot to me… please.”

Arthur handed John the satchel, with all his money so he might use it to help provide a good life for him, Abigail, and Jack.

“Go!” Arthur instructed.

Arthur began to continue up the mountain before being stopped by John.

“Arthur…”

“Go to your family!” Arthur instructed again.

“Arthur!” John yelled.

“Get the hell outta here!” Arthur said loudly. “And be a God damn man!”

John just stared at Arthur for what felt like forever before finally nodding and walked down the mountain. He turned back toward Arthur one last time.

“You’re my brother,” He said.

“I know!” Arthur responded. “I know…”

Arthur continued up the mountain, shooting at the Pinkertons.

“God damn, you bastards!”

He knelt down behind another rock, using his repeater to finish the job. Using his dead eye vision, Arthur hit a series of head shots on a number of Pinkertons before being tackled from behind. He was viciously yanked onto his back, seeing Micah kneel over him with his fist raised.

“I got ya now, Black Lung!” Micah yelled.

“You rat…” Arthur snarled at him. “You rat!”

“I’m a…”

Micah’s fist contacted Arthur’s jaw, hard enough that it could have easily broken it.

“survivor, Black Lung…”

Another punch contacted Arthur’s jaw.

“That’s all there is… livin’ and dyin’!”

Arthur used whatever momentum he had, whatever strength he had left, to throw Micah off of him and they both tumbled over the edge, falling to the hard ground below. Both men groaned as they slowly got back to their feet, preparing to throw punches at one another.

Micah grabbed Arthur by the collar of his brown leather coat, delivering a swift blow to the gut. As he was about to deliver another, Arthur blocked it and delivered a straight shot to the side of Micah’s face causing him to stagger back.

“Oh Black Lung,” Micah said evilly. “You don’t know how long I’ve longed to do this!”

The two men traded blows for an eternity, as they knocked each other down, choked one another, and slammed each other into the stone wall of the mountain. Finally, Micah had Arthur pinned to the ground and delivered punches to his face. That is until Arthur finally landed a strong strike toward Micah, knocking the man off him and toward the ground. Arthur noticed Micah’s discarded revolver off to the side and crawled as quickly as he could to get it.

“All there is… winning… and losing…” Micah taunted.

Just as Arthur grabbed the revolver, Micah snatched him off the ground and slammed him into the mountain wall. This gave Arthur a moment to backhand Micah with the revolver knocking both men to the ground. The revolver flew out of Arthur’s hand, landing a few feet away. Arthur wheezed and gasped, badly beaten and bloody, as he crawled towards the gun.

“Oh Black Lung,” Micah taunted as he got up. “You ain’t gonna reach that gun. You ain’t. You lost, my sick friend. You lost.”

Arthur still crawled anyway, wheezing his way up.

“In the end, Micah,” Arthur wheezed out. “Despite my best efforts to the contrary, it turns out I’ve won. God damn ya!”

He grabbed for the gun, only for Dutch to put his foot on Arthur’s hand, which made Arthur cry out.

“It is over now, Arthur,” Dutch declared. “It’s over.”

“Ooh, Dutch…” Arthur said breathlessly. “He’s a rat. You know it, and I know it.”

“He’s sick!” Micah insisted. “He’s dyin’… he’s talkin’ crazy.”

Arthur looked up toward Dutch, shaking and struggling to breathe.

“I gave you all I had… I did.”

Dutch looked at Arthur, blinking a few times tying to process the entire situation in his head. Here at his feet laid the man who’d given him everything for the last twenty years. But now he was gasping for breath, and in his dying words claiming Micah was the traitor all along. What was Dutch to believe?

“Come on!” Micah called out toward Dutch. “Dutch… let’s go buddy. We made it. We won.”

Arthur looked up at Dutch, laying on his back.

“John made it. He’s the only one. But the rest of us… no. But… I tried. In the end… I did.”

Arthur gasped, fighting to breathe. The sound of the Pinkertons drew closer, garnering Micah’s attention and he knew he had to move this along.

“Come on… let’s go. We can make it!”

Dutch looked between Micah and the fallen Arthur. He didn’t truly know who or what to believe, but one thing he did know was that he needed to get the hell out before he got killed or arrested. With this in mind, Dutch Van der Linde slowly backed toward the mountain before turning and walking away from the scene.

“Come on, Dutch…” Micah called. “Come on!”

Seeing Dutch wasn’t coming with him, Micah snarled and walked his own way off the mountain. They left Arthur wheezing and gasping for air, as he slowly crawled away. He crawled a few feet away until he came to a slanted portion of the mountain wall and leaned against it. He groaned a gasp for breath, as he slowly turned his head toward the sun slowly rising over the horizon.

Sure, he may not have always been the best man in the world, but Arthur Morgan knew for sure he was a good man. Seeing the last sun rise over the horizon was most certainly the least God could offer him. Arthur took a few more breathes, before he exhaled slowly and that was the end of it, as his eyes closed on this world… forever.