I met Arthur's piercing blue eyes from across the camp; he was cornered, yet again, by a completely hammered Swanson. It seemed like as good an excuse as any to interject, not only to save him from the babble that poured out of the drunk man's mouth, but for my own selfish reasons.

Arthur and I had this connection - I knew he could feel it, but, the gentleman he truly is, he would never let on. I was feeling especially fiesty today, and it was high time we confronted it.

I weaved my way from one side of camp to the other. I approached the two, poking myself into the conversation.

"Hey, Arthur," I interrupted. "Can I trouble you for a moment?" I glanced at the Reverend. "Sorry, Reverend."

Arthur's eyes lit up, his gaze meeting mine. "Its no trouble, ma'am."

"I'm sorry, Reverend," I apologized, again.

"Oh, its quite alright. Honestly I was probably done with my point a while ago... just babbling on and on..." he indeed babbled as he unsteadily wandered toward the campfire.

Arthur leaned in to me. "Ma'am, you are my hero," he said quietly, smiling.

That man had no idea the charm his smile put on me. I felt a flush in my cheeks; thankfully it was hidden in the darkness of the night. I smiled back, a big sheepish grin.

"Actually, though, I was wondering if you'd perhaps be interested in a short fishing trip. I know its late, but I just feel so restless, and I can't sleep, and I don't like to wander alone at night," I stated innocently.

Arthur's hand reached up and he gently scratched the back of his neck. "Well, you see, I'm-"

I interrupted once more: "Arthur, you continuously tell me how terrible you are at fishing, yet you supply us with fish day in and day out."

"Well, I suppose. Thanks to Hosea and Dutch, I'm much improved these days," he said, a little proudly, dropping his hand back to his side.

"Its settled then! I'll grab some gear!" I said, hustling off toward my tent.

I had no intention of making it to a fishing site with him, but I had to bring supplies or he would obviously be aware something was amiss. I grabbed a couple of poles and a bit of line and a small pouch of bait, then poked back out of my tent. Arthur waited patiently outside for me, and immediately asked to assist me. He took the poles and we headed for the horses.

"I don't want to get separated in the dark," I said. "Would it be okay if we both just ride your horse?"

"Sure," he replied.

"Great, thank you," I responded.

Arthur climbed up onto his horse's saddle, placing the poles across the saddle in front of him. He then reached his hand down toward me, and I eagerly slipped my small hand into his firm grasp. I watched the muscles in his arm flex as he pulled me up behind him, and I felt another flush in my face. He had no idea that I wished every night he would just find his way into my tent. He always claimed himself a "bad man", but the way I saw it, he was simply misguided. Dutch and his "plans" had taken us farther off course than we ever thought we'd be, and poor Arthur was always so stressed by the craziness that seemed to follow our every step. Tonight, I sought to ease some of his tension, and mine.

I placed my hands on his hips for a hold, doing my best to behave myself, for now, and he gently clicked his tongue to his horse, and we started off down the trail from the camp. We rode in silence for a moment as the sounds of the camp faded into the darkness enclosing us. Suddenly we were alone. I'd never been alone with Arthur before. I felt he was too naive to understand what my play was. He would soon understand.

"I wanna go a little ways off - far enough the camp noises don't scare the fish off," I said.

"Okay, we'll go a bit farther," Arthur concurred.

A little more down the road, Arthur veered his horse off into the grass, starting on a path down toward the river.

"Arthur, you're so tense. All you do is work," I said, moving my hands gently up his sides and back to his shoulders.

"Aw, you don't have to do that," he said quietly, almost shrugging me off.

I kept my hands firmly but gently planted on his shoulders, beginning to knead his tight muscles. "I know, but you deserve a break."

He softened a bit in my grasp, and I could feel his muscles accept my touch. I smiled to myself.

"I could probably dig in a little better if you wouldn't mind taking off your vest," I offered.

He murmured a low response, then unbuttoned and removed his vest, draping it over the saddle in front of him. I smiled to myself. I slowly began to work down his shoulder blades, then his middle back, thoroughly massaging each beautiful muscle I could feel.

"Its just a little chilly. Is it okay if I use your saddle blanket?" I asked.

"Sure," he said, grabbing the blanket and unfolding it across his lap; I grabbed the ends and tucked them back around myself.

"Lower?" I asked, leaning in closer to him, still working my fingers into his back.

"Uh-"

I moved my hands to his lower back, scooting close and pushing my full body against him. His body heat seemed to radiate into my core, and he smelled of campfire and sweat from the day's work. I could feel his breathing change, and my breathing changed with it. I gently worked my hands into his back, slowly working around to his hips.

"I could get just a little lower if you want to undo your belt," I whispered, breathing heavy into his neck.

Arthur knew exactly what I was after now; the horse had just begun meandering down the river, as Arthur had lost all interest in telling it where to go.

My left hand left Arthur's belt line. I ran it slowly across his hip, creeping my fingers under his shirt, and up his lower stomach, tracing the lines of his muscles up to his chest. I planted my hand in the middle of his chest; his heart was pounding, and his breathing became faster. In this same moment, his right hand crept under the blanket to meet my hand on his belt line. His hand clasped around mine, and he moved my hand to his buckle. We fumbled with his buckle for a moment before it popped open.

I softly placed my lips on his neck, kissing him first on the back of his neck just under his shirt collar, then the side of his neck. The muscles in his neck relaxed under my kisses, and a low groan escaped his throat. That groan sent my insides into an almost painful ache, and a small moan slipped my lips, as well.

My left handed stroked a long stroke across his chest, my nails dragging lightly, as my right hand, under his guidance, followed a trail of hair down his stomach into his jeans. My fingers eagerly reached down, and he was already hard. His breath hitched as I freed him from his pants. His hand wrapped around mine around the base of his shaft. A louder, deeper groan arose from him, almost primal.

I grabbed both of his hands and forced him to grab the saddle handle.

"Let me do it," I said, buried in his strong neck.

He didn't reply, but he kept his hands where I put them. My left hand roamed his solid chest, dragging my nails gently through his chest hair, traveling up to the scruff on his neck and back down. With my right hand, I rubbed over the tip of his cock, spreading his wetness down his shaft and gently but firmly stroking the length of him. My lips placed hot, breathy kisses everywhere they could reach - his neck, his shoulders and back through his thin shirt. When I put my teeth on his ear, I thought he would cum then and there. I stroked him faster, tightening my grip.

"Arthur..." I whispered into his ear.

He moaned my own name back to me, and his breath became shakey, and a moment later I felt the warmth of his pleasure running down my fingers as his thick cock spasmed in my hand. I gave him a few more strokes in time with his movements, then felt him relax completely into me with a contented sigh.

I reached into my pocket and produced a bandana and cleaned us both up, carefully stuffing it back in my pocket to be washed in secret. Arthur refastened his belt buckle, sighing once more.

"You didn't have to do that," he said after a moment.

"Arthur, I know that. I wanted to. You work so hard for them. For us. I want to take care of you," I replied, wrapping my hands around him again, resting both palms on his chest and laying my head on his back between his broad shoulders.

"Thank you," he said, wrapping the blanket around my back.

He clicked at his horse again, which had stopped to eat grass a long time ago, and we turned back toward camp.

"They're gonna know when we come back empty handhanded," I thought aloud.

"I've always said I'm a terrible fisherman," Arthur coyly replied.