Chapter Eight

"Nature provides, but she sure don't always make it easy."

Arthur had wanted to do something special for Charlotte, since he couldn't do much of nothing else as it were. He reckoned some decent food could be made on what they had out here. Then he got the bright idea to eat at sunset overlooking the river.

Every step closer to finishing his set-up, he'd felt less sure of himself. Was this stupid? Would she even like a dinner outdoors?

When Charlotte's eyes lit up at the sight of the table, all his efforts had felt worth it. He hadn't expected her to enjoy the meal so much, but he supposed her palate was used to blander food nowadays.

Charlotte asked him now, "By the way, what did you say to my brothers?"

He shrugged. "Nothin' much. Just told them to leave you be."

"Well, Benji's fairly enamored by you." She sipped her bourbon. "But, I bet Clark didn't accept that without comment."

"No offense, but if that boy don't keep his mouth shut, he's gonna wind up in serious trouble."

Her brows creased. "They didn't hassle you too much, did they?"

He liked the concern in her eyes, that she'd been worried over him of all things. "Nah. They was just tryin' to look after you is all, even the pompous one."

"Thank you, Arthur. For sticking by me."

"Weren't a problem. Besides, Ben seems likable enough."

"Yes, I think he'll do well once he gets out from under Father's thumb." She finished her last bit of meat, closing her eyes. "I honestly don't know how you made rabbit taste like this."

He chuckled. "Believe me, I couldn't cook a damn thing 'til Hosea taught me."

She opened her eyes and asked curiously, "Who's Hosea?"

Arthur frowned. How had he let that slip? He'd told himself he wasn't gonna reveal nothing about the gang. Even though it felt like a betrayal to deny the existence of someone who'd raised him, he said, "No one."

She remained silent for a moment and then stated, "I know you were in a gang, Arthur."

No denying that one. "Yes."

"Why won't you talk about them?"

Weren't it obvious? "They're outlaws. Dangerous folk."

"And people," she argued. "Same as you or me."

He laughed shortly. "There ain't a goddamn one of them as innocent as you, Charlotte."

"Do you think my opinion of you will change if you told me more of your past?"

Yes. "We weren't good folk," he answered coarsely, "None of us. Aimed to rob the rich, but that don't mean good people didn't get in the way."

She fidgeted with her fingers before informing him softly, "You spoke in your sleep, during your fever." She watched him. "Calling out for Dutch. For John. These men mean something to you."

Damn. Betrayed by his own self before he was even conscious. "Maybe."

"And Hosea? He's someone you really care about too, isn't he?

"Was," Arthur corrected gruffly.

"Was?" Her face fell. "I'm sorry, Arthur. It's difficult to lose someone dear."

"I know it, but talkin' about 'em don't bring 'em back."

"In small ways it can," she said lightly. She rested her chin in her hand, elbow on the table. "Tell me a little about him."

"Hosea was..." She made it sound like an easy task, but he found it difficult to find the right words. How did he describe a man he'd known for twenty years and had lost in an instant? Charlotte waited patiently for him to finish. He drew in a breath and released some of his tension. "Hosea was like a father. Better than my own anyways. He taught me, well, a lot. Huntin', fishin', writin', pretty much everything."

"He sounds like an incredible person," Charlotte commented. "He must have cared for you deeply to teach you so much."

"I reckon he did and I didn't make it easy." Arthur hesitated, but admitted something he hadn't told anyone else, "Still don't. I ain't even taken the time to visit his grave."

"Why not?" She cut to the point, didn't bother letting him stew over it.

"I don't know," he confessed. "It ain't like I don't want to. I guess I thought...seein' his name on a grave marker would make his death real." He shook his head. That was stupid. "I mean, 'course it's real. I saw it happen with my own damn eyes."

"We all grieve at our own pace," Charlotte said quietly. Her gaze went to the ground below. "That's one lesson I've had to learn on my own out here."

She looked troubled. Judging by the direction of her stare, she was probably reliving the day her husband had been mauled. He'd seen some gruesome scenes in his day, but he didn't know how she'd managed that by herself. "You got plenty of other folk who could take care of you, if you wanted."

She faced him again, her brow lifting. "You've met my mother. As intimidating as she seems, she's nothing compared to my father. In fact, she likely gave up so easily on me today because she assumes Father will successfully bully me onto a train after we talk. Which reminds me..." She peered up at him. "Will you come with?"

The question caught him off guard. "What?"

"To Saint Denis. My mother insists I visit them before they leave. Would you accompany me?"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." Arthur didn't think any trip he'd ever made into Saint Denis had been a good one. Running through the cemetery with Marston, chasing down Mary's useless daddy, doctor telling him he had TB, the trolley set-up, Colm's hanging, the bank robbery gone wrong...

"I'm sorry. I'm being too forward. You obviously have no obligation to encounter my family again." She tucked some hair behind her ear. "I didn't miss how uncomfortable you were this afternoon and my father isn't any better of a conversationalist."

Arthur wanted to shake his head. Charlotte really thought he hesitated because he didn't want to be put in another awkward situation? She must not have read them bounty posters in Annesburg too closely. He narrowed his eyes on her. Or maybe she had and she wanted him there for a different reason.

He said bluntly, "You want me there to scare your father off?"

Her brow furrowed. "That wouldn't solve anything and likely only make things worse."

Not if it was done the way he did it. "Then, why?"

"I just want...you." Her eyes widened "I mean, I want you there. With me. For company." She blew out a breath. "I'm bungling this, aren't I?" She straightened her shoulders. "It would mean a lot to me to have you there."

He studied her after that odd reaction. "You sure?"

"Of course," she said firmly. "Having you by my side always raises my confidence."

It was funny to Arthur that a woman with a posh background like hers asked for the presence of a fighter like him and it weren't for intimidating someone. She wanted him with her for emotional support, of all things. It still didn't sound like a good idea to him. But he knew it weren't impossible stay out of trouble in Saint Denis, just had to keep his head down.

"You know what, sure, why not?" He didn't much like the city, but he didn't exactly have much else going on. And maybe a part of him wanted to make sure Charlotte wasn't swept back into a world she didn't want to be in anymore.

"You will?" Her face bloomed with happiness. Like he'd granted her everything she'd ever wanted. Damn, she was easy to please, if his company was all it took.

"I know my mother will want to make a day of it, but I think you and I could find time to stock up on supplies. We can stop by Dr. Barnes' office and pick up those tonics he recommended. Oh! And the tailor's for some clothes more to your liking. We may need to bring some extra bags..."

As she talked, Arthur thought he felt a stray couple of raindrops. He frowned and glanced upwards. Clouds were darkening parts of the sky, hiding sections of the stars. Hard to tell if it were going to turn into something nasty, but either way they should probably head in.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Charlotte broke his study of the possible storm. "Was I nattering on?"

"Yeah," He grinned at her. "But, I like your nattering."

She rolled her eyes. "You are perfectly preposterous."

"I don't know about that, but I reckon we should start makin' our way in now. Smells like rain."

"Really?" She looked upwards. "I suppose it is getting rather late."

Arthur stood and she followed, asking, "Should we gather everything up then?"

"I think we have time for it. I'll get down and you can start handin' things to me."

They moved the table, chairs and the basket closer to the edge and Arthur hopped down. Charlotte lowered everything piece by piece and he set it aside. When everything was on the ground, he turned to assist her.

"I could just jump, Arthur. It's really not that high."

"No. Last thing we need is you to land on your ankle funny and have us both be invalids."

She scrunched up her nose. "I'm not as clumsy as all that."

"No more arguing. C'mon." He reached up, waiting.

She sat, laid her palms on his shoulders and he plucked her down by the waist. As he set her on her feet, his mind went back to the last time he'd lifted a woman like this, but that had been onto a horse. It was his final talk with Abigail, before he knew John was alive. God, he hoped they made it out, that they found each other. He wanted to have accomplished one damn good thing before his life had derailed.

"Are you okay, Arthur?"

Self-consciously, he realized he'd set Charlotte down, but hadn't let her go, just stood there like a simpleton, staring into oblivion with his hands on her waist. For her part, she was studying him and hadn't taken her hands off his shoulders.

He hadn't answered her. "Er, yes."

He damn well was not okay. He was an idiot. Here he stood in the presence of another good woman, one who gazed up at him as if he didn't have all sorts of damnation chasing him. She looked at him like he was someone else, like he hadn't done so much wrong in his life. Even more confusing, a part of him wanted to be that man. Wanted to be...more.

She raised a hand, brushing across his jawline. "What's rattling around in that head of yours?"

Her light touch had his heart thumping loudly. "Nothin' good."

"Maybe you should let me be the judge of that."

Her thumb gently caressed the scar on his chin. He caught her hand and pressed it against his cheek, her warm palm chasing away the cool of the night.

Arthur closed his eyes, absorbing her touch and thinking. Could he be that man for Charlotte? He weren't much of nothing no more, but something in him wanted to try. To start over, but the right way this time.

When he opened his eyes again, Charlotte had tilted her head up, her eyelids lowering and her lips parting open. He only had to lean down...

A sudden, booming crack of thunder overhead startled them into jumping apart. For a moment, they could only stare at each other, but a second later an angry cloud burst overhead and the downpour started. Their clothes were soaked through in an instant.

"C'mon!" Arthur clutched her hand and they ran up the hill, towards the house. They abandoned the table and chairs and would have to collect them in the morning. Charlotte stepped inside first and went to light the lantern on the table. She was flushed from the run and the rain had loosened her hairstyle so it rested down her back.

She turned to smile at him. "That was fun."

Arthur flicked some of the rain with his hand as he stood dripping in the middle of the room. "A goddamn rainstorm in the middle of dinner?"

"We were finished eating," she said easily, despite his temper. "No harm done."

He wanted to argue with her further, an unexplained frustration manifesting, but his chest was aching from that short sprint. He started coughing, and once he started, he couldn't stop until it was done with him.

"Arthur, sit down," Charlotte ordered, leading him to a chair.

She left the room and he leaned his elbows on the table, rasping breath in and out. When Charlotte came back, she had a towel for each of them. She wrapped it around his shoulders and then moved to the kitchen counter.

He didn't watch what she did, but after a moment, she placed a cup of water in his hand. "Try and drink this."

Charlotte rubbed circles on his back and while she meant to comfort him, his inner thoughts were pummeling him. He was useless, less than useless. Stuck in a chair, barely able to catch his breath. He drank some of the water, but it only eased his pain slightly. Every time the TB attacked him, she was always there to help and that weren't fair to her.

Arthur stood abruptly and a little unsteadily. "I got to change...and go to bed."

"Arthur—"

He brushed past her, determined to make it to his room without stumbling. He opened and closed his bedroom door, leaning on it as he heaved in breath. He heard her footsteps come near, but she didn't try and enter. Soon, she moved away and he sighed. He'd been rude, but he didn't want her to see him like this. Weak, pathetic, hardly a man.

He wanted to throw something, hit something, but that was childish. He stripped down, exchanging his pants and hanging his wet things. He settled into bed, but his mind was racing. He'd never get to sleep like this. He leaned on his elbow and reached for the lantern on the end table, lighting it and then grabbing his journal.

He sketched the scene he'd laid out for Charlotte, the table and chairs, the waterfall in the background and two figures sitting across from each other, enjoying each other's company. Then he wrote a passage to accompany it.

'Am I a bigger fool than ever? Charlotte... I know if the rain hadn't started, something would've happened. I coulda kissed her, she was willing. But, it ain't right. I nearly passed out running in the goddamn rain. What the hell was I thinking? The last thing I need is to complicate things between me and her. She don't need me and I don't got a damn thing to offer her besides. Not even the body of a healthy man.'

Arthur looked out the window, at the rain pattering against the glass. No. He was an idiot for dreaming, even for a second. This, this sickness, was the rest of his life. And all he would ever be, could ever be, was a burden.