Okay, so I know I've already got one Arthur/OC pairing going on, but I wanted to start up another one. Why? Because all the time traveling ones I've found on here have seemingly been abandoned and therefore, I would like to contribute one that won't be. Now, this doesn't mean I'm abandoning the other two I have going on. I just need a break from them for the time being.

Also, this story is gonna be on my Wattpad account as well, just an fyi. Hope you like this new pairing.

Chapter 1: Colter

The Okie Dokie Diner was packed by the time Samantha Burke showed up. It was a modest joint with booths and a counter, resembling more of a soda fountain place than an actual diner. She was late...again. Her manager, a balding man in his late forties with a dirty apron and a beer gut noticed her walk in and he sneered at her. "Sam, where the hell have you been? You're twenty minutes late!" he shouted at her.

Sam cringed at his voice and made a sorrowful expression, feeling small at the amount of anger being thrown her way. "I'm sorry, sir. I have no excuse other than my alarm didn't wake me up."

The man huffed at her. "Well, just don't let it happen again. This is the third time this week."

"Yessir," she said meekly before grabbing a notepad and pen. "Where should I start?"

"Table 9 needs to order."

"Okay." Sam quickly made her way over to a booth in the corner and took a deep breath. It was full of a bunch of U of M college jacket boys, probably wanting breakfast before classes. "Hi, my name is Sam. I'll be your waitress this morning, what can I get ya?"

A blonde boy in a Minnesota Gophers jacket smiled up at her with bright green eyes. "Helllloooo, beautiful," he said. "What's a gorgeous thing like you doin' in a place like this?"

Sam eyed the boy and sighed. While she was certainly not in the mood to get hit on, the compliment did lighten her spirits, although she'd never taken much stock in her looks. She considered herself a Plain Jane. Even so, she needed to remain professional. "I'm working."

His friends, also in Minnesota Gopher jackets, started snickering at their friend, who looked a little perturbed. "Ah, don't be like that, sweetheart," he said, trying his best to sound suave.

Which he was. Sam had a feeling a lot of girls had a hard time saying no to him on account of how attractive he was, but she was at least ten years older than him and therefore, she was not interested. "The only thing I'm being like is a waitress. Now what can I get you boys?"

The boy frowned and seemingly gave up on his come-ons. "I'll have the steak and eggs, medium rare, and water."

Sam jotted his order down. She looked at the other two who were doing their best to keep their composure. "Um, the pancake platter with sunny side up eggs and a Coke," the one nearest to the window said.

"I'll have a coffee and the pancake platter too, eggs scrambled."

Sam scribbled the orders down. "You two want bacon or sausage with that?"

"Bacon," they both said in unison.

Sam wrote that down too and smiled sweetly at them as she grabbed their menus. "Okay, I'll be back with your drinks."

Sam walked away, but not before hearing hysterical laughter behind her. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself. At least she was amusing to someone. She set the menus down, handed her boss the order, then went to the pop machine and filled a glass with ice and Coke. She reached for another glass and put ice and water in it. She grabbed a tray to put the drinks on and reached for a hot coffee container. Sam gracefully made her way back through the crowd, raising the tray and twirling to avoid knocking into her waitress friend Tiffany.

"Woa, be careful there," Tiffany said. "Not that you need it, of course, Miss Ballerina."

Sam let out a cackle and made her way to the boy's table, handing out their drinks. Once that was done, the woman made her way to other tables to take orders. The day became a long one with the hustle and bustle of her mundane job, but after the rushes were done, she was finally allowed a break. She went outside to have a smoke, leaning against the back of the building and lighting a cigarette from her Marlboros pack. She inhaled the smoke and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of it in her lungs before exhaling.

"Those things will kill you, ya know," a familiar voice said.

Sam's eyes opened and she looked over at Tiffany with a grin. "Oh please. You smoke too."

"Yes I do. Now give me one."

Sam pulled put a "cancer stick" fron her pack and tossed it to Tiffany. She graciously accepted it and lit it. "So, late again, huh?"

"Yeah, I think I'm going deaf in my old age," Sam joked.

"You're not that old. You're thirty-two."

"Thirty-three next month, kid."

Tiffany put a hand on her hip. "I'm not a kid," she pouted jokingly.

Sam took another puff of her cigarette. "To me, you are."

Tiffany was an 18-year-old spitfire of a girl working her way through college. The long haired brunette was gorgeous in Sam's eyes, with pouty lips, straight teeth, high cheekbones, and big blue doe eyes to match. Sam, however, was a straw blonde, hazel eyed nobody with full lips, an oval face, puffy cheeks, and not the best of complexions. The only beautiful thing about herself, in Sam's opinion, was her smile.

"Well shit," Tiffany said. "Guess I am, you old geezer."

Sam breathed out a laugh, smoke escaping her lips. "Oh fuck you."

Both the girls laughed and then their manager came out the side door. "Hey, come on! There's people inside waiting for their food!"

He slammed the door shut and Sam put out her cigarette. "Well, back to the ole' grind."

The girls rushed back in and went straight to work. And the day dragged on and on and on until Sam was quite certain her feet needed to be cut off. But the end of her shift finally came and she said goodbye to Tiffany before collecting her tips and heading out to her car. As Sam was driving through downtown, she realized she was dog tired. So tired she could barely stay awake at the wheel. The Okie Dokie Diner had been packed more than usual today and, well, it drained the hell out of her. The waitress eventually made it to her apartment building, and when she got to her quaint little apartment, she didn't even bother taking off her black and white uniform. Sam merely crawled underneath the covers and fell fast asleep.

Usually her dreams were normal, about the hustle and bustle of the city life, but this one was different. She dreamed about a buck in the snow, grazing at a few pieces of grass sticking out of the whiteness of the forest. The buck suddenly lifted its head to look at her, flicking its ears and licking its chops. It hesitantly walked to her and Sam reached her hand out to touch it. Its snout connected with her palm and a light flashed. It was at that moment when Sam woke up. However, she was no longer in her bed. She was in a pile of snow, her blanket wrapped around her.

"What the hell?" she said to herself.

It was so damn cold. As a woman from Minnesota, she was used to cold, but this wasn't just cold. It was freezing, especially with the wind blowing as it was, and her with only her waitress uniform, which consisted of black slacks, black tennis shoes and a short sleeved white shirt, and a blanket wasn't exactly ideal for the weather. Was she still dreaming? She had to be. Off in the distance, despite a blizzard going on, Sam saw some buildings, quickly got up and started trudging through the snow. Dream or not, she needed to get out of this godforsaken snowstorm. It was freezing. Sam reached one of the main shacks and stumbled in, keeping her blanket around her. What the fuck was this place? She slapped herself hard to try and wake herself up. The pain stung her cheek and she shook her head, blinking a few times.

"Ow."

If she was dreaming, why did that hurt? Maybe she slapped herself while dreaming? She'd been known to do weird shit while sleeping and was sometimes prone to even sleepwalking. Sam could see her breath and shuddered, tightening her blanket around her. She moved to the corner of the building and sat down. In an attempt to warm herself, she rubbed her bare arms up and down vigorously. She blew into her fists and rubbed her palms together. Anything to get warm.

"God dammit, what is this place?" Suddenly the door swung open and she screamed. There was man with a blue jacket and a cowboy hat on in the doorway with a lantern and...was that a gun he had in his hand? Sam immediately stood up and raised her hands, dropping her blanket. "Oh God, please don't kill me. Take whatever you want, but please don't kill me."

The man furrowed his brow at her. "Who are you?" He asked in a western, baritone drawl of a voice.

Sam kept her arms up, frightened out of her mind. "My name is Sam. Sam Burke. I...please don't kill me," she sobbed, starting to hyperventilate.

The man took a step closer. "Are you alone?"

The cold returned to her and she started shivering again. "Y-yes, I-I'm alone."

The man looked around the room as if he didn't believe her, but when he was satisfied, he holstered his gun. "Okay, Miss Burke. I'm not here to kill you."

Sam shivered more, cold as ever and scared out of her mind. "O-okay."

When her teeth started chattering, he approached her, bent down and grabbed her blanket. Sam instantly yanked it and covered herself with it. The man with the stubble studied her face before looking down. "What kind of clothes are you wearin'?"

"M-my work uniform?"

The man suddenly laughed whole heartedly. "What kind of uniform is this for a lady to be wearin' trousers?" He asked with a snicker.

Sam pouted and narrowed her hazel eyes. "I'm a waitress, and women wearing, uh, trousers, isn't that rare. What's wrong with you?"

The man laughed once more. "Well, darlin', I've seen plenty of waitresses and not a'one of 'em ever wore trousers."

Sam shut her eyes and huffed. "Look, mister. I'm cold, I'm tired, and I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming and therefore you must be a figment of my imagination, so can you please tell me how the fuck to wake up?".

He looked taken aback at her words. "Oof, the mouth on you. What makes you think you're dreamin', darlin'?"

"Well, I drove my car home from work, I got into bed, I dreamed about some buck...next thing I know, I'm knee deep in snow outside. So again, tell me how the fuck to wake up. And if you call me "darlin'" again, I'll knock you into next week!"

"Woa, easy there, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart, either, you son of a bitch! Now wake me up!" Sam snapped at him.

He cackled loudly and shook his head. "Look, you ain't dreamin', Miss Burke. And...what's a car?"

Sam's jaw dropped. "What rock have you been living under?!"

The man shook his head again with a chuckle. "Alright, look, just...Miss Burke, just settle down for a moment. And...I gotta bring my family here out of the cold, so do you mind if I leave to go do that?"

Sam shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. I'll probably wake up soon anyway."

The man frowned at her and tightened up her blanket around her. "Well, if you're still here when I get back, I'll bring you a coat. Just try to keep warm, alright?"

Sam nodded to him, her teeth chattering once more. He picked up his lantern and headed back out the door. Sam went and sat back down in the corner, crossing her legs and moving back and forth to try and stay moving. Just what in the hell was going on here? Why wasn't she waking up from this weird dream? She was unsure how much time had passed before the door opened again, this time to an older gentlemen in a green coat and a western hat. He looked around and spotted Sam with his lantern.

"Ah, you must be Miss Burke," the older man said.

Sam continued moving back and forth, shivering and shaking from the cold. "Y-yeah, I am. Who are you?"

"I'm Hosea Matthews." He turned his head back towards the outside world. "Bring him in here!" he shouted out.

The next thing she knew, a bunch of people started walking into the building and Sam immediately felt scared again. Who the fuck were these people? There was a man being brought in on a wooden board by some guy with a beard and the man from before with a coat in his arm. A couple of women and a child walked in after them, then a dark haired man came into view and directed even more people to come inside. The two men put the obviously wounded man down and Sam stood up to look at him. The man from before walked around and handed Sam a brown coat very similar to his blue one. Sam dropped the blanket and immediately slipped her arms into the jacket, already feeling warmer. It smelled of pine trees and campfire smoke.

"Thank you, um..." she started.

"Arthur Morgan," he continued for her.

"Miss Gaskill," a woman said. "Get that fire lit quick. Miss Jones, bring in whatever blankets we have. Mr. Pearson, see what we've got in terms of food."

Sam peeked over Arthur's shoulder at the man on the table. "Davey's dead," another woman said.

Sam blinked a few times and looked around the room. Again, she asked herself what the fuck kind of dream this was.

"There was...nothing more you could've done," a man with a red mustache said.

Sam watched as someone put coins over the dead man's eyes. Huh. Someone must've believed in the Ferryman tale.

"What are we gonna do? We need supplies," Hosea said quickly.

"Well, first of all you're gonna stay here and you are gonna get yourself warm," the dark haired man said. Sam noticed Arthur had gone to them and she grabbed her blanket. "Now, I sent John and Micah scoutin' out ahead. Arthur and I, we're gonna ride out and see if we can find one of 'em."

"In this?" Arthur asked before eyeing Sam.

The other man looked to the door then back at Arthur. "Just for a short bit. I don't see what other choice we have."

"But what about Miss Burke, Dutch?" Arthur asked. "She seems, uh, confused about things."

Sam narrowed her eyes at Arthur. She wasn't confused...okay, she was very confused, but he made it sound like she was nuts. God dammit, she wished she'd wake up already. Was she in a coma or something?

The man named Dutch looked at Sam then back at Arthur. "We'll worry about her later." Dutch focused his attention on the rest of the group. "Listen...listen to me all of you, for a moment. Now, we've had...well, a bad couple of days." He motioned to the dead man. "I loved Davey...Jenny...Sean, Mac...they may be okay, we don't know. But we lost some folks. Now, if I could throw myself in the ground in their stead, I'd do it, gladly. But...we're gonna ride out...and we are gonna find some food. Everybody, we're safe now. There ain't nobody followin' us through a storm like this one, and by the time they get here...well, we're gonna be...we're gonna be long gone. We've been through worse than this before. Mr. Pearson...Miss Grimshaw...I need you to turn this place into a camp. We may be here for a few days. Now all of you...all of you...get yourselves warm. Stay strong. Stay with me. We ain't done yet! Come on Arthur," Dutch said as he grabbed his lantern.

Arthur gave Sam one last look before heading out. "Alright, we've got some work to do," the woman named Miss Grimshaw said.

Sam merely stared at the group, feeling the need to slap herself again. She closed her eyes and sunk back into the corner. "Please wake up," she muttered. "Please wake up."

"You alright there, Miss Burke?" Hosea asked.

Sam raised her head and looked at him. "Yeah, just...well, I guess I am confused."

Hosea chuckled and held out his hand. She took it and he helped her up. "Well, that's okay. I'm confused about our situation too."

Sam laughed a little and bowed her head. "That makes me feel better, thanks."

"No problem. Now, do you think you got the know-how to help make a camp?"

"Uh...I can try, I guess."

"Good. Miss Grimshaw?"

A woman came over to see Sam and Hosea. "Yes, Mr. Matthews?"

"Miss Burke here might just be able to help make camp."

Miss Grimshaw looked at Sam skeptically. "Hmph. Maybe. What do you do to live, Miss Burke?"

"Uh, I'm a waitress," Sam said with a sheepish tone.

"That don't help me much right now"

"Well, I can lift heavy shit, if need be."

Miss Grimshaw laughed. "Oh you can, can you? Well come on out and help unload some shit."

Sam nodded and followed Miss Grimshaw outside. It was still blowing like the dickens outside, but at least Sam had a warm winter coat to wear now. She pulled up the hood of her jacket and tightened the straps before walking to one of the wagons. What the hell? Horse drawn wagons?

"Miss Grimshaw? I have a rather odd question for you."

Miss Grimshaw looked at Sam. "Yes?"

"...What year is it?"

"Well, that is an odd question, but it's 1899, Miss Burke."

Sam stopped walking. This had to be a dream. There was no way she went back in time...right? Because even though all of this seemed very, very real, time travel was impossible. Wasn't it? Yeah, it was impossible. Sam resumed her walking, deciding to just pass the time until she woke up.