Arthur Morgan

Arthur Morgan finally had some free time between robberies, gunfights, and the usual trouble that came with being an outlaw. For once, he decided to spend it doing something peaceful: fishing.

He had been sitting by the water for the better part of an hour, and he'd managed to catch some good-sized fish—enough to put a decent amount of food on the gang's table. The quiet afternoon had been almost too peaceful.

Then the shouting started.

Arthur's attention immediately snapped toward a nearby lakeside house. A man was dragging his wife backward along the dock, one hand gripping her roughly as she struggled against him.

"You lazy little bitch!" the husband shouted. "Lying in bed all day instead of cleaning the damn house!"

Arthur's jaw tightened. He set his fishing rod down and stood, his eyes fixed on the man. He'd seen plenty of ugly things in his life, but watching a man throw his weight around on someone who couldn't fight back was enough to sour his mood real quick.

"Hey!" Arthur called sharply, already walking toward them. "That's enough."

The husband barely seemed to notice him. He kept dragging the woman toward the edge of the dock.

Arthur's expression hardened. He quickened his pace, boots thudding against the wooden boards.

"I said that's enough."

The man finally turned toward him, but before either of them could say another word, he shoved the woman toward the water.

Arthur moved without hesitation. He lunged forward, catching her before she could disappear beneath the surface and pulling her securely against him.

"Easy, ma'am. I got you."

He kept one arm firmly around her as he looked back toward the husband, his expression turning cold.

"You ain't touchin' her again."