When Arthur returned a week later, in the dead of night, I saw only a glimpse of him being escorted to his bed. The days prior to it I had occupied with deciding on whether or not the growing void inside me came from missing him. Yet I knew when I saw him stripped of his daily attire and gasping for breath. I darted towards him while Dutch , Mary Beth, Miss Grimshaw and Pearson were already drawing him to his feet.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Morgan." Pearson's sympathetic words drifted with the low breeze.
"It is a bit late for apologies," chided Dutch and called for Swanson. He was one of the many I hadn't met personally. From what I could observe and there was very little because Swanson was often wandering or sleeping, he was a reverend prior to joining. A kind man who succumbed to an illness I couldn't connect.
He moved quickly to aid Arthur to his feet.
I watched oblivious, like the public mass at an execution, as they escorted him to his bed. I lingered in a distance where I could see what was happening, but the words went amiss. Miss Grimshaw took a chair to his side and while a part of me was intimidated by her, just as equally as I pitied her, I wanted to be her in that moment. I wanted to hold his hand, assure him it would be alright so I could assure myself and be there for him as he awoke from night terrors. That wasn't me, though. I was on the outskirts the rest of the night and the night after.
By the third one, I saw a chance I took.
Arthur had awoken several times within the time period, occasionally coughing or wheezing, rarely a wince and Miss Grimshaw would sooth him back to sleep. She never moved unless it was to retrieve a glass of water or stew, never for herself. By the third night, Dutch finally pardoned her of her duties with a quick argument. She left with an unexpected obedience, before falling quickly into sleep like the rest of the camp. I stayed up staggered by my own sudden impulse to visit him. I wanted to see him. I wanted to know if he was alive and yet, the constant menacing aura I often found myself in kept me still.
When I picked my way towards him, I didn't realize the choice I had made until collapsing into the chair by his bedside. He rested in sheets saturated by sweat. A layer glistened on his chest by the lantern's light. His face had sunk and whitened.
"It was...different, with you gone. I was always waiting for you to come back. They said you might just be venturing around, because that's who you are, until they realized...I prayed for you to come back. Selfishly, for myself." I drew in a short breath and slipped my hand into his feeble grasp. My other one rest upon his heart, while timing the rise and fall of his chest. "You see, I've never really...belonged. I'm cursed in a way. Never….being able to really talk. Even being noticed. Affluent father or not...that money could give me everything but, but happiness. A friend."
I shifted and the chair cried. "When O'driscolls invaded, I had a chance to run. Maybe any sensible person would have taken it, but we both know I'm not the most sensible. I….I stayed... You were the first person to ever really acknowledge me. Before all of this, I spent most days hidden in my bedroom, reading stories about places I could never go and about people I would never be. My father hated me…..well probably still does. And my mother, she left me in a world that didn't want me. All my life, I've just been waiting for the end...and then I met you.
"Sure, Mary Beth is nice to me. Dutch….kind of. But out of all of them, you were the only one who reminded me I existed. You were my….my friend. So I stayed. And I hate to ask, but could you please stay with me now? Because I need my friend."
My eyes swept over my shoulder to guarantee we were still alone. Though I hesitated, finally I stood from the chair and let my hand slip out from his. I felt his heartbeat once more. Then I leaned in, tickled by his ragged breath, and puckered my lips against his forehead. My forlorn words I spoke stung my eyes.
"I love you, Arthur."
I drew in another breath before turning around. Dutch lurked behind. I exchanged a wounded stare that obscured my forced smile. As I brushed pass, he murmured a good night, one that I could only reply with a nod.
"Entering into May, well - known magnate and business typhoon Leviticus Cornwall 's daughter, and future wife of Mayor Henri Lemieux….." My eyes recoiled from the newspaper article and onto Arthur who remained still in bed, recovering from his prior plight. Enough strength had returned to him to sit upwards. His face had lightened from the statement, or my expression, I couldn't tell. "I...I didn't know I was getting married ...?"
"I don't know, Amelia, when has the newspaper ever lie?" he retorted.
My eyes constricted and my brow twisted, before returning to the newspaper. "...has gone missing. Ms. Amelia Cornwall was last seen in a state of disarray, leaving Mayor Lemieux's residency on Flavian street after attending a private party in honor of the mayor's proposal."
I glanced back to Amelia. "I don't remember any of this."
With a faint smile he gestured for me to continue.
"She excused herself after the beautiful moment - shared only between, Mayor Lemieux, Ms. Cornwall and his personal assistant - appearing incredibly animated upon leaving." I released a heavy sigh. "Returning home, Mr. Cornwall's youngest daughter, Adele and her nursemaid came to find the door open and the lights off. Ms. Cornwall was nowhere to be found. The search continues on as we reach June and Mr. Cornwall has raised a reward of a hundred dollars, to two hundred fifty…."
"Really?" Arthur inquired. "A millionaire and he gives a reward of one hundred dollars? My bounty's more than that."
"Well, this is just insulting," I teased, even though I was indeed miffed and a part of me stung inside. Yet I wasn't surprised. "For Mayor Lemieux, he implores the citizens of Saint Denis and the surrounding area to contact the law should they know anything. Ms. Cornwall is blonde, green eyed and medium built with light freckles and a birthmark beneath her right nostril and speaks with a lisp. As Mr. Cornwall's businesses continue to expand throughout the country, could some newfound enemies be the reason for her disappearance? In brighter news, Cornwall Kerosene and other items have gone on sale at the provided stores…."
I discarded the newspaper into Arthur's welcoming arms while I crossed my own. "He's profiting off of me."
He crackled before meeting my glare. "Uh, I'm sorry, Amelia."
I drew in a breath to make my lie more convincing. "It's...alright. It's who he is and always will be."
"I'm starting to understand why you're not impatient on getting back."
"You may not want to understand it all."
We continued with short lived conversations, drabbing into a brief history of my timid childhood, the plight events of his and how we found ourselves here. There was no sly affection invested in his words as he told about his younger days. Not until the mentioning of Dutch and Hosea did he show interest. He spoke more gaily about them then his own father, who died when he was the same age as when my mother did the same. The topic concluded itself from his restraint and my fear of pressing.
He told me about Colm O'Driscoll, a long term rival of Dutch who were tangled in a game of physical chess with him. Colm moved. Dutch moved. Whenever they saw a weakness in the other, they took advantage. Ironically, they had too many similar qualities to make me think of them as different people. When the topic could no longer be beat, my inquiries fell towards the families that were often hoovering on everyone's head in camp.
"So, who are they?" I caught Arthur's stare as it fled from the newspaper. "The Grays and the…..Braith...Braith..."
"The Braithwaites," he recommended. "Uh, they're two families trapped in a hundred year old feud against each other. Grays got the whole town of Rhodes that despise the Braithwaite. And on top of all that both got money."
Curiosity drew me closer.
"Well we've been playing both sides, by Dutch's request," he continued. "Seems I've become a deputy of Rhodes along with Dutch and Bill."
"Deputy?" I giggled. "You got a badge to prove that?"
Arthur gestured towards the duster coat folded across the chest near his desk. My fingers manicured to the front fold, where a silver engraved badge pinned in the fabric. To serve and protect. Between those words and Arthur, sitting up in his bed, my stare balanced. I envied his adventures and his cons, and still I pressed for his stories.
"Then we got the head of Braithwaite, this old hag, whose paying us to burn the Grays' fields. Did that. Got the whole town drunk for her, only to steal her prized horses after that," he recalled with a distressed expression overtaking him.
My smiled widened, something he was quick to inquire.
"Well...it's just, you're a horrible deputy," I chortled. "Not the worst though. That title belongs to the whole Saint Denis law."
"How so?"
"Micah's….not the brightest. And Bill certainty isn't."
"No argument there."
"And still both of them kidnapped me from one of the well - heeled streets of Saint Denis with little interruption. Not to mention it's been a month since my oh so tragic disappearance and not even a lead from them."
"I'm sure your father knows," he countered.
I nodded.
He did, and that was something I never doubted. He must have always known and still I was here among outlaws. It was better than surviving with him, or being pawned off to Henri when I was not pondering what was taking him so long to fulfill the ransom. Maybe it was just a business strategy - the more they pitied him, the more they bought. I wonder how long that scheme would last until it dried out.
I peered back to Arthur who kept half of his attention on the newspaper.
"Do you think I could...uh….go with you?" My head bowed before I caught his stare. "I know you still need to recover, but when...you're ready. We don't have to have a shootout, but the stealing, the burning, the adrenaline, it would just be...fun."
Arthur hesitated upon shaking his head. "I've seen a lot of people die because of that kind of fun, Amelia. It's an easy lifestyle to get into, and a hard one to get out of. Even harder to survive."
His words fumed me.
It was not so much his rejection that made me nibble at my lip and draw forth a drop of blood that taste of copper. It was not his lack of belief in me making my hands clench. It was simply his ignorance.
"I've already lived that life," I whispered.
"This is different," he denied.
I shook my head. His consistent refusal humiliated me. "You've seen the newspaper. There's no ransom in the near future, so I'm going to be with all of you for a quite a while...unless you decide to kill me. But I don't see that happening either. I'm no different than half the people here - I didn't belong. I've lost. And I want to prove myself."
Arthur paused.
"You'll need to learn how to shoot first."
"I know how to shoot!"
"I saw you just grazing those O'Driscolls. If you want to go out, you need to learn how to actually hit something."
Hello my lovely readers, I have finally returned after taking a vacation to find myself. No, I was actually drinking and having writer's block, but now I have returned! Yah! Anyways my sweet pickles, thank you for all the past reviews, followers, favorites, hate mail, I love it all! I hope you guys didn't mind this chapter too much and didn't read it the way I wrote it...I was drunk. Actually, maybe you'll enjoy it better...Anywho, read, review, follow, favorite, only do drugs unless pressured and remember, when in danger or in doubt, run in circles, scream and should! Until next time!
