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 Bill practically stormed back into the camp, repeater slung against his shoulder. Blood soaked into and staining his clothes even though he himself was unharmed besides a few scrapes. "Morgan!" 

 Dutch walked out of his tent, arms crossed and looking more than a bit irritated. "Williamson!" He shouts. "What is all this rucus?!"

 "Micah's dead!" He answers, tossing his repeater to the ground with more than a bit of vitriol. Dutch blinked twice, face full of shock. "Arthur never met us at Van Horn."

 Dutch shakes his head, utterly bewildered. "What?"

 Bill makes an exasperated motion with his hands. "You know how he gets, rode up to the patrol guns blazing. Got shot down like a goddamned animal."

 It was almost like Bill's anger was being transferred into Dutch, with how quickly the man turned to Ms. Grimshaw who was discreetly watching from the side where she stood near Mr. Pearson. "Ms. Grimshaw! You seen that boy?!"

 She sighs and walks over, not very affected by the news of Micahs unfortunate demise. "Mr. Morgan came back late last night, haven't seen him since then."

 Bill whirls around immediately, followed closely behind by Dutch. Directly next to the ammo wagon, Arthur's bed lay with a large form lying face up upon it unmoving.

 "Arthur Morgan!" Dutch shouts as Bill pushes his way under the wagon's tarp, making sure to shove the small endtable to the side with a loud crash.

 With that, he grabs Arthur hard by the shoulders, and lifts him from the bed abruptly. "What you think you're-"

 Then he pauses, looks down at the man he was holding up by his lapels. At the way his head hung limp upon his shoulders. His arms that still lay on the bed. The blood that had long since dried on the sheets. 

 He drops him as abruptly as he had lifted him. "What are you doing?" Dutch asks from the side, taking a step closer and eyeing the pallid body in front of them. Confusion coming in more and more as Bill places a hand on Arthur's neck.

 The other man's skin was cold as sin, and no heartbeat thumped against his hand. All the anger faded immediately from Bill's mind as he came to realize that he was staring down the corpse of Arthur Morgan. "He's dead."

 Dutch remains silent for a long, long moment. He had known that something had been happening. Who could not, with how pale Arthur had been lately, he'd figured the man had caught the flu, something like that. He'd not seen terribly much of him lately, though. Must have been a few weeks since they spoke more than a few words to each other. 


 Bill just turns away, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Kicks his repeater that still lay on the ground as he passed.

 Dutch remains still. Watches the still face of Arthur Morgan lying dead on his bed. For a moment, his eye catches on the broken end table that was several feet away. On the journal that had been flung from it's top. Stared at the broken picture that lay face up on the ground. 

 Hosea Arthur and himself stared back at him from within it. 

 Ms. Grimshaw said something to him, but he just turned away, and walked back to his tent. Completely silent even as the camp exploded into sound around him.