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I had been keeping my eye on Lenny for a few days. Something about him was off. He was quieter than usual, distant, like his mind was stuck somewhere else. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but the chance never came.

One morning I spotted him sitting on a fallen tree near the river close to camp. Before I could walk over, he called out to me. Seemed he had been waiting.

Lenny got right to it. He said he had been down in Rhodes talking to some folks who told him about a gang holed up in the swamps. They were the kind of fools who still believed the Civil War was going on thirty years later. Not only that, but they were selling weapons down south to Cuba and South America. Lenny figured they must be sitting on a stash of guns or money at a place called Shady Belle.

I was not sure if it was worth the trouble, but good rifles and a pile of cash was reason enough to take a look so we saddled up and rode out.

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On the way, we talked. At first it was just small jokes, but it turned into something serious. Lenny told me how folks in Lemoyne looked at him differently. The sharp words, the stares, things I had not really noticed. He told me I would not, being who I was. He was right. I felt bad and told him so. He brushed it aside. Said if we were stealing from men like that, then he was all in.

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When we reached Shady Belle, the place was crawling. Armed men everywhere, crates stacked high with rifles and dynamite. I told Lenny we could either charge in or try something smarter. Then we agreed on playing smart to increase our odds.

He agreed to play the part, walking up calm and easy, talking slick until he had most of them grouped together. He gave me a signal, and I fired at a dynamite crate. The blast tore the yard apart and the fight began.

It was loud and fast, bullets flying from every side. Lenny shouted when one of them made for the Gatling gun on the veranda. We cut him down before he got there. We fought hard, and when the smoke cleared, the place was ours.

Inside we found crates filled with new rifles. Lenny’s face lit up. He said we could sell them for good money. I agreed and we loaded them on a wagon. We hurried out before more men showed up, but it was not long before riders came after us. One of them sneered at Lenny, asking what a black man was doing hauling a wagon out of Shady Belle. I put him and his friends in the dirt before they had much chance to think on it.

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We rode hard through the woods, and when it was quiet again, I told Lenny he had done good. He admitted he just wanted to prove himself, especially with Sean always bragging about his own scores. I told him not to worry about Sean. Dutch, Hosea, and the rest saw what Lenny was doing for the gang. I did too. Told him if he kept it up, things would start changing for him.

By the time we made it back to camp, the wagon was heavy with rifles and our spirits were high. I kept one of the guns for myself. I told Lenny I always enjoyed riding with him because he knew how to fight. He smiled and said the same. After all the fire and lead, it felt like we had come back stronger as a pair.

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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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