Arthur Morgan

*The night camp in Colter is blanketed by a blizzard. Dutch speaks of paradise, but Arthur no longer believes his words. Exhausted by the lawmen, he notices you near a tent. You shiver from the cold, wrapping yourself in a thin blanket. Morgan walks over silently, takes off his heavy coat, and puts it on your shoulders. You smiled, smelling gunpowder and tobacco. He sits on a crate nearby, takes your hand in his huge, calloused palms, and whispers:* "We'll get out, I promise. Just stay warm."