It's almost Halloween! I can't believe how fast the year is going... I blame college and constantly being busy. Also, it's starting to get cold and I'm not ready...

Chapter 39: Hamish

Mary wrote to him. The letter surprised Arthur when he finally returned to his tent after spending most of the night sitting quietly with Annabelle and Dutch. Arthur had ducked his head when he made the walk across camp, thinking that he was too old to be scared of Colm O'Driscoll. But he was scared. Scared to end up in Colm's hands again. Scared someone else would suffer because of the feud.

Though, it wasn't like he left any of them alive to tell the tale. Maybe years of only dealing with the fringes of outlaw life left him easily rattled by a little gunfire.

He kept his eyes peeled for more green neckerchiefs when he made his way into Valentine to see Mary, and thankfully didn't spot any. From her letter, he knew this wouldn't be a social call. Mary was asking for help, directly too, and he worried about what kind of trouble would lead her to reach out to him.

"Arthur, how are you?" she asked.

"I'm alright," Arthur said. "How are you?"

"Not so good," she said, and the whole story came out.

Turned out it wasn't her in trouble, not really. Her little brother Jamie had run off with the Chelonians. Arthur immediately agreed to help, having always like Jamie. He had his second scare in only a few days when Jamie, completely confused and distraught, pointed his revolver at himself. Arthur was able to stop him, thankfully, and convince him to return to Mary in Valentine.

"Are you and Mary sweet on one another again?" Jamie asked on the way back after Arthur gave him what he hoped to be good life advice.

"No, that was all over a long time ago," Arthur said.

"You know her husband-"

"Yes, I know." Mary told him that Barry Linton died, and he was sorry for it. But they'd agreed a long time ago that they didn't work together.

Once they were back in Valentine and Mary was reunited with Jamie, though, Arthur pulled her aside. He had a question.

"Mary, you remember what you said when you sent me back the ring?" Arthur asked. "That if I ever found two people in love who could use it… you still mean that?"

"I do," Mary said. "Who did you give it to?"

"I haven't yet. My brother, John, wants to ask a girl to marry him."

Mary squeezed his hand, giving him a smile. "I would be very happy if John took ring. What's her name?"

"Abigail. They've been together for a few years now, and they have a son. Jack."

"You have a nephew now, too?" Mary asked.

"Yeah, he's a good kid," said Arthur.

"Tell John to take the ring," Mary said. "I hope she says yes."

"I think she will," Arthur said.

"How is Isaac, by the way?"

"He's doing good. Growing up way too fast."

The train pulled up at the station, and Mary gave Arthur a hug. "Thank you, Arthur."

"You're welcome, Mary."

He rode home excited to tell John the good news. A bit of searching in his trunk, and he found it. The red stone still had a shine to it against the gold band after all those years. He slipped it into his pocket and went to find John, looking over a map under a tree.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked.

"Mary-Beth heard about a train full of rich folk coming through Scarlett Meadows, and I think I found a way to stop it. We'll get an oil wagon, and put it on the tracks. No conductor wants to get cooked alive, so they'll have to stop."

"Sounds good."

"I'm thinking a small crew for this. Annabelle has been itching to go on a robbery. What do you think about Charles as a third?"

"I think Charles will do just fine," Arthur said. "He'll keep a cool head under pressure. Unlike some of those fools."

"You're right about that," John laughed.

"How was robbing stagecoaches with Hosea?"

"Easy. We waited until night, and did it real quiet. No one noticed us, and I got a few hundred from the house," John said.

"Good," Arthur said with a nod. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Sure, what?"

Arthur pulled the ring out of his pocket and offered it to John. "Here. Ask Abigail to marry you."

"Arthur, what?" John stared at the ring, but made no move to take it. "Where did you get this?"

"I bought it," Arthur said. "Years ago, to ask Mary to marry me. She gave it back when she got engaged, but she said if I ever found a couple in love, then I could give them the ring. I'd be honored if it was you and Abigail."

"Arthur, I can't just take this."

"I'm giving it to you."

"Arthur-"

"Listen, John," Arthur said. "I know it might seem odd, taking someone else's ring, and I don't think you need one to get Abigail to agree to marrying you."

John snorted.

"But you want to do this your way, and I know you're tired of waiting. Take it. Please."

John sighed, and reached out for the ring. He held it up and turned it in the light. "It's beautiful."

"Yes, I thought so," Arthur said with a smirk.

"Thank you," John said. "It don't feel like enough to say it, but really, thank you."

"You're welcome, John," Arthur said. "So, are we having a wedding tonight? Do I need to sober up Swanson?"

"I haven't asked her yet!"

"She'll say yes," Arthur said, patting John on the shoulder. "Just make sure I'm there for the wedding. I could see Dutch starting a ceremony as soon as he hears the news."

"You think Dutch is going to be that excited? He doesn't seem that into marriage. I mean, how long have he and Annabelle been together?"

Arthur chuckled. "I don't think Dutch or Annabelle care about ceremonies for themselves. But you know Dutch loves any excuse to party. And a wedding? We're going to be hungover for days."

John smiled wide and said, "We should tell him that if he gets married, we'll party for a week."

"One marriage at a time!" Arthur laughed. "So, when are you going to ask her?"

"Soon, I promise. I just want to do it privately, you know?"

"I do. Good luck, John," Arthur said, leaving him to his robbery and proposal plans. He saw Isaac sitting alone under a tree, since most of the boys were out robbing, a book in his hand. He was wearing his recently finished bear coat, too. "What's going on?"

"Nothing much," Isaac said.

"Do you want to visit that Hamish feller who patched you put after that bear incident?" Arthur asked.

Isaac perked up. "Yes!"

"Well, let's go! Saddle up Apollo! It's a long ride, isn't it?"

"Not too bad," Isaac said, but he scrambled to his feet and grabbed his saddle.

Arthur enjoyed the scenic ride into the mountains with Isaac at his side. "How are you doing, now that things have calmed down?"

"I'm good," Isaac said.

"Are you sure?"

Isaac hesitated. "I miss Davey and Mac," he finally said. "I thought… a couple months ago we were going to get a ranch."

"I know."

"And now we have to start over."

Arthur let Isaac trot past him a bit and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew all of this would be hard on Isaac, and he wanted his son to feel safe. More than anything.

"I know it's tough right now," Arthur said. "But don't worry too much. Blackwater was a mistake, but Dutch wants the best for us. We will learn from it and not make the same mistake again."

"I hope so," Isaac said.

Oh, he had to do right by that kid and keep him safe.

"Hey, there's the lake!" Isaac said. Arthur looked down at the blue, shimmering water with a tiny island in the middle. Smoke rose from a chimney on the east side of the lake.

There was a Dutch Warmblood hitched outside the cabin, and Apollo trotted up to him with his ears pricked. Boadicea followed along, and Arthur didn't mind leaving the three horses together. Isaac leaped onto the porch and knocked on the door.

"Hold on," a muffled voices said, and then the door opened, revealing an older man with shoulder-length gray hair. "Isaac! How are you?"

"This is my pa!" Isaac said, stepping back so Hamish could see Arthur.

"Oh, you found him!"

"Hi, Arthur Morgan," Arthur said, holding out his hand.

"Hamish Sinclair. Come on in!" Hamish said, stepping back. "Nice leg you've got there."

"Thanks."

"Where did you get it?"

"Blackwater. How about yours?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, I got this one in Saint Denis about ten or so years ago. Right about when I bought this cabin," Hamish said, gesturing to his home. "My first one was rather cheap. This one stays on better, except when Buell decides to throw me."

"Looks like good craftsmanship."

"Want to compare?" Hamish asked

Arthur and Hamish sat down in chairs and traded legs. "Well, that's pretty fine," Arthur said.

"You lost the left, and I lost the right," Hamish said.

Arthur laughed. "At least we won't mix them up! How did it happen?"

"Cannon ball."

"Shit!"

"Yeah, I lost it in the war," Hamish said, giving Arthur his leg back. "The kid next to me got cut in half, and I didn't get any gangrene, so all things considered, it wasn't too bad. You?"

"An outlaw decided to shoot it with a shotgun," Arthur said. "A doctor took care of the rest. I've gotten pretty used to it, and it hasn't slowed me down yet."

"Your friend, Hosea, he said you're a hunter? And you work with pelts?" Hamish asked. "I see that bear became a nice, warm coat."

"Isaac did that himself, mostly."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've been learning," Isaac said.

"I started doing it while I was recovering," Arthur said. "Now it's basically my job."

"And what were you before?"

Arthur hesitated, quickly thinking over his answer. "A wanderer, mostly. Did odd jobs here and there. I suppose I still am a wandering man, just without the odd jobs part."

"Where have you traveled?" Hamish asked.

"All over the west."

"You want some coffee?"

Hamish and Arthur spent a good hour exchanging stories from their travels across the country. Hamish hadn't gone any further west than Blackwater, since soon after visiting the small town, he stumbled on O'Creagh's Run and found it to be the perfect spot for his cabin. And it truly was.

"I get moose that come through here, elk, sometimes bighorns that come down off those hills. Now that the bear is gone, the wolves might come back, we'll see," Hamish said, gazing out the window. "The lake gets salmon, too, though the Tyrant is known to eat them."

"The Tyrant? That's the fish you want to catch, right?" Isaac said.

"Must be one hell of a fish if he's eating salmon," Arthur said.

"He's a mean as hell Northern Pike!" Hamish said. "Eats most of what spawns around here, his own kind included. You want to take a crack at him?"

"Oh, I'm a poor fisherman," Arthur said.

"Well, I'm great, so together we'll do okay. Are you good at fishing, Isaac?"

"We don't go fishing all that often," Isaac said.

"Then, I'll have to teach you!" Hamish said, leading the way out of the cabin and down to the docks. "Come on, let's get in the boat! You mind rowing, Arthur?"

"Not at all," Arthur said, taking his seat next to the paddles. "Where are we heading?"

"Take us over there to the right. We'll set up ten yards or so off shore. He don't keep far away from me, the Tyrant. Wants me to know who's lake it is."

"We'll get him," Isaac said.

"Oh, the optimism of youth," Hamish said with a laugh. "Now, I've been trying to make a lure that this bastard will bit. I've spent years on it, looking for the right combination of feathers, twine, and glimmer. Let's see how these work out today. Take your pick!" Hamish pulled three shining fishing lures, and Arthur held up one towards the sky, turning it to see how it caught the light.

"These are mighty fine," he said.

"Now, I haven't tried any of these yet, so we'll see what happens. Might be nothing. Let's try out luck casting towards the island."

Isaac, Hamish, and Arthur sent their lures into the water. Arthur began to reel slowly, breathing in the crisp mountain air. It reminded him of Montana, and he was struck with a sudden nostalgia for the ranch they almost bought.

Funny, that was the last time he went fishing, too. With Hosea, Dutch, and John. He ended up drawing instead, preferring the scratch of a pencil on paper to the methodical click of the reel.

"Now, keep it moving on the water, that's it," Hamish said to Isaac. "Maybe a little faster. And give it a flick every once in a while. You see, when using lures, you have to draw the fish in. They aren't food, and if it's just sitting on the water, the fish know it! You have to trick them."

Arthur took a moment to memorize the scene. Isaac concentrated on his lure bobbing in the water, a slight frown on his face, while Hamish watched his technique with a wide smile.

He would have to draw it later.

"Oh, I got something!" Isaac said, yanking back on the rod and hooking the fish.

"Is it the Tyrant?" Hamish asked.

"Uh, I don't know. It doesn't feel too big," Isaac said.

"Well, let's find out! There, he's tiring, reel him in!"

Arthur stopped fishing while Isaac brought in his fish, which turned out to be a decent salmon. "Good job, Isaac!" he said.

"Hey, now we have some dinner for tonight," Hamish said. "Let's see if we can get a few more."

They didn't find the Tyrant, unfortunately, but they got a few more salmon before they called it a day. "You'll get that fish of yours one day," Arthur said.

"I guess he doesn't like these lures as much as I thought he would," Hamish said, collecting them again. "I've tried all sorts of things: coins, shells, even a medal! He's a tricky bastard, that's for sure."

"Well, at least you're learning what he doesn't like," Arthur said with a chuckle.

"I suppose. We'll try again the next time you visit," Hamish said. "Now, are you going to help me gut these fish?"

"You know, the last time we had three giant salmon like this…"

Hamish roared with laughter as Arthur told him all about Copper and his impromptu feast with some of Hosea's fresh catch. "That's a dog for you! Always looking for food."

"Yeah, we were sad to lose him. He was a good boy. Used to keep me company when I was struggling after my leg got amputated."

"I had a dog for a bit," Hamish said. "I found him lost in the mountains, probably got separated from his owner. Buell didn't like him, though, so I ended up giving him to a kid in Valentine."

"Buell seems a bit stubborn."

"A bit?" Hamish said with a laugh. "That's putting it mildly."

Hamish insisted on cooking the fish himself, giving Arthur a chance to look around the small cabin. There were a few animals mounted on the wall: a buck, a coyote, and a fish. "You get all these up here?" Arthur asked.

"I did. I've gotten some good hunting over the years."

"You know, I've still got some of that bear if you want me to make you something. A boot maybe?"

"If you have enough for a pair, we could have a matching set!" Hamish said.

After dinner, Arthur took Hamish's measurements and jotted them down in his journal while Isaac set up a dominoes game. They played several rounds, and Isaac won every single one. Arthur accepted his defeat with dignity. His son was quick with the all fives games.

Later, when Isaac and Arthur settled down in bedrolls in front of the fire, Arthur sketched the scene in the boat. When that was done, he added the towering pine trees and mountains in the background. It really was quiet up at Hamish's cabin. Quiet and peaceful.

When they returned to camp the next day, with Sean loudly bragging about a simple robbery he went on and Dutch's gramophone playing loud music, Arthur missed that little cabin. Part of him wanted to go back.