Chapter Twelve

"Since we got here, it feels like every step forward has come with a hundred steps back."

Arthur weren't exactly sure if it were eagerness or cowardice that had him jumping onto the saddle. Sure, he was excited to ride a horse again. Feeling the wind sweep by as he directed Jane into a steady-paced trot down the wooded trails.

However, he couldn't fully focus on the ride because he was distracted by the actions of one Charlotte Balfour.

When she'd tipped her head and rose to press a quick kiss on him, he hadn't known what to do. There weren't no denying what he'd wanted to do; pull her in, crush his lips into hers and kiss her 'til dusk fell. He hadn't held a woman in a long time and she'd felt good in his arms, felt right.

And why was he holding himself back? She weren't a naïve girl he was taking advantage of. She knew what she was getting herself into. Well, maybe not fully, but enough that he knew she wasn't acting on impulse.

As Arthur crested the hill to the house, ready to face Charlotte again, all his amorous notions dropped off. She was standing on the porch with her gun aimed at a man. God damn, did this woman never catch a break?

Then his attention went to the stranger and Arthur realized immediately he was no stranger. Charles? He slid from his horse and strode up to his friend, calling his name.

The big man spun around and his eyes widened at Arthur coming up. "Arthur!"

Arthur caught him in a hug, grinning with unexpected joy. A part of him had thought he'd never see Charles again. "How'd you find me way up here?"

Charles clapped him on the back enthusiastically. "Truthfully, my friend, I wasn't expecting to find you above ground."

"Apparently, hell ain't ready for me yet."

Charles smiled. "Apparently, not."

Arthur noticed Charlotte in the doorway. She'd lowered her gun, but was watching them with apprehension. "Charles, this is Mrs. Charlotte Balfour. Charlotte, Charles Smith, a good friend of mine."

The tension went out of her shoulders and she smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith. Any friend of Arthur's is a friend of mine."

He nodded to her. "You can call me Charles, ma'am. And my apologies for startling you."

She waved away his apology. "Let's put it behind us. Why don't you two hitch the horses and come settle in? I was just about to put on a pot of coffee."

Arthur returned to Jane and led her to the shed and Charles joined him as they hitched their horses next to each other.

Charles tilted his head. "How much does she know?"

Arthur glanced over at the house. "Not a hell of a lot, but she's guessed enough."

"And you trust her?"

"Yes." He didn't trust many, but Charlotte had never presented herself as anything other than what she was. "But, it'd be best if she didn't learn much else."

Charles nodded. He knew how to be discreet.

As they entered the cabin, Charlotte was setting three mugs on the table. She commented, "I swear, I've never had so many visitors before you got here, Arthur."

She said it playfully, but her words set him on edge for some reason as they sat.

Charles commented, "This is a beautiful corner of the country you have up here."

Charlotte said, "Yes, I've been incredibly lucky in that regard. If I could only learn to make more use of it."

"From what I can see, you seem to be doing well enough."

"Much of that is thanks to Arthur. More than I can ever repay, I fear."

Arthur protested, "There ain't nothing to repay."

"Tell me, Charles," Charlotte asked as she poured the coffee, "has Arthur always been so stubbornly modest?"

"Not sure I can attest to that, ma'am. But, he's proven a true friend to me many times over."

"Indeed. He lets me prattle on without complaint."

"When you need him, he's there," Charles added.

Charlotte nodded. "I've found that to be true too."

Arthur shifted in his chair. "Alright, enough out of you two."

"We probably should stop." Charlotte crinkled her nose. "He gets terribly uncomfortable when you sing his praises."

"Ain't like that," Arthur grumbled. "Just feels like you're both ganging up on me."

She chuckled. "Only in the best sort of way." She stood with her mug. "I'll leave you boys to catch up."

Before she left, she paused to squeeze his shoulder and said softly, "Let me know if you need anything, Arthur."

As Charlotte shut the door, Charles eyed the house and then studied him, commenting, "Retired life suits you, my friend. You look better than you have in a long time."

Retired? "I ain't retired." Then he thought on it. He weren't working. Hell, maybe he was retired. He shook his head. "What do you know, Charles? Last I saw of you, you were about to help Rains Fall move the tribe north."

"I got them settled somewhere safe when I heard about the Pinkerton raid down here. What happened, Arthur?"

The wound was still fresh, even after all these weeks of healing. He said grimly, "The gang fell apart, Charles. Some of 'em got out before it went to shit, but the others, I'm not sure. Miss Grimshaw got herself killed by Micah."

Charles murmured, "I buried her, up the valley overlooking the lake."

He'd have to visit the grave site, to pay his respects. Arthur clenched his fists. "I tried to get Dutch to see Micah for what he was, but he wouldn't listen."

Charles said with regret, "I should've been there."

"No, you shouldn't have." Arthur said firmly. "You'd likely be dead."

"As dead as you?" Charles remarked. "No one knows Arthur Morgan is alive, not even the law."

"Really?" That surprised him. He would have put money on his face being on wanted posters across the counties.

Charles explained, "The Pinkertons think you were killed on the mountain and your body was taken by coyotes or wolves while they gave chase to the others. It was only by chance I happened on the story of a fatally wounded man being carted up here."

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "That would be Charlotte. She somehow figured I were involved with the shootout and found me on the mountain. Owe her my life on that one." Twice over, if anyone were counting. "She doctored me back from near death."

His friend nodded approvingly. "Impressive woman."

Arthur thought so too, but for some reason he didn't like that Charles also took notice of it. He cleared his throat. "You heard anything from anyone else? John? Sadie? The rest of them?"

Charles shook his head. "No, nothing. Likely, they're all laying low, same as you."

Arthur supposed no word on them was better than anything bad. But, he'd hoped to get some kind of good news.

"I have heard whispers of someone sounding like Micah recruiting at Lakay. I reckon he wants to try his hand at leading."

Lakay? "Back in the swamps?"

"That's what I heard around the table when I stopped at Emerald Ranch."

Now that Arthur's elation at reuniting with Charles was fading, a certain dread filled its place. If Charles could find him, who else determined enough would make sure he was in the ground?

Charlotte's innocent words ran through his head. I swear, I've never had so many visitors before you got here. It'd been gnawing at him since she'd said it and now he knew why. Lakay weren't that far from here. How long before a man as rotten as Micah heard rumors he was alive and came gunning for him?

It was a painful reminder why this place was a dream only. Willard's Rest was secluded, but not immune from life's intrusions. He was still an outlaw and it weren't safe for him to settle down anywhere, let alone with Charlotte.

Unsure if he wanted to know the answer, Arthur asked, "Hear anything on Dutch?"

"Nothing."

Arthur didn't know what he'd say or do if he ever faced Dutch again. Leaving him on the mountain didn't bother him. He understood that. He was dying and the authorities were surrounding them. He'd have left too if he were in Dutch's boots.

No. The battle at Cornwall's factory was the memory that caused him the most pain. Dutch was there. He was right goddamn there. Even now, thinking about it, he nearly couldn't believe it. He'd only been saved because of Eagle Flies. That kid had died so a no-good outlaw like him could live.

Arthur clenched his fists tighter. He had issues with Dutch that would never be resolved, but there was another he could deal with. If they found Micah's camp, he and Charles could swoop in one night with a surprise attack. They could clear it and be out by sunrise. He could get that rat for all the wrongs he'd done to him and the gang, like an angel of death descending.

Charles was studying him. "What are you thinking, Arthur?"

"If Micah's this damn close, it'd be stupid not to go after him."

"Maybe," Charles hedged. "But what about..." He tilted his head to the window.

Charlotte. "What's she got to do with it?"

Charles eyed him skeptically. "If we do this, you run the risk of bringing awareness to the fact you're still alive. That might be the end of the line."

"It's already the end of the line." He didn't want a chance for Charlotte's life to be in danger because of associating with him. "If I finish Micah off, we'll all be a lot safer. And happier."

Charles raised a brow. "How's your woman going to take that?"

Arthur scowled. "She ain't my woman."

"Then you must not be trying hard enough."

"Shut up, Charles."

He cracked a smile, but sobered up soon enough. "You really want to do this?"

"I feel like I ain't got a choice."

Charles frowned, but didn't comment as he stood. "If that's the case, I'll head down to Annesburg for guns and ammunition."

"Good idea."

Charles opened the door to the cabin, telling him, "I have a camp set up down the river aways. You can find me there if this is what you decide."

"I already decided it," Arthur grumbled behind him.

Charlotte looked up from her garden as they left the cabin. Noticing them heading for the horses, she stood and brushed off her hands. "Charles, you're not staying? There's not a lot of room here, but I could fix something up for you."

Charles smiled at her. "Sorry, ma'am. You're very kind, but I think you and Arthur have some things to discuss in private."

Arthur glared at his friend and Charlotte turned to him with a confused frown. He damned Charles for putting him on the spot like that.

Charles mounted up and nodded down to Charlotte. "Thank you for your hospitality and for taking care of my friend here."

"It's been my pleasure."

Charles gave Arthur a pointed look at that comment and said, "I'll see you later, Arthur."

And then Charles abandoned him to explain everything to Charlotte by himself. She didn't waste any time as she crossed the yard and confronted him. "What is going on?"

There were no getting away with nothing around her. He turned towards the house and she followed. Without looking at her, he told her, "It were bound to happen, someone findin' me. I should be grateful it were Charles, instead of someone with less honorable intentions."

Arthur could hear the frown in her voice. "Okay..."

When he reached the house, he headed straight to his room and started to gather a few shirts. "I'll send some money when I can, for the clothes. Sorry, but I got to take Jane off your hands for awhile and that revolver I found."

She stopped in his doorway, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw dawning realization transform over her face. "You're leaving."

"Now that Charles is here, I can finish what was started up in them mountains."

Her brow furrowed. "I didn't know you had anything you wanted to finish."

"I told you before, I got to leave soon. It's just happenin' sooner than I expected."

She crossed her arms. "What about going to Saint Denis with me?"

He moved around her and headed for the table, picking up the revolver. "You don't want me down there makin' a fool of myself and embarrassin' you in front of your rich daddy anyhow."

"What are you talking about, Arthur? You didn't mention any reservations before. And I thought you liked Benji, at least."

"I never shoulda stayed long enough to even meet them."

"Stop." She moved in front of him and rested her hands over his, causing him to halt his examination of the revolver. She asked him softly, "What is going on, Arthur? Why are you giving me the cold shoulder all of a sudden?"

"I ain't for you, Charlotte!" he snapped.

She dropped her hands from him and said quietly, "I thought..." She lifted her eyes to meet his. "I thought there was something between us."

"Maybe there is, maybe there ain't." This place, this woman, was a taste of what his life coulda been, had he chosen a different path. But, it weren't meant for a damned soul like his. Sooner or later his mistakes always caught up with him and ruined whatever chance he got at peace. "But, it don't matter none if you're just stickin' yourself with a man who's gonna wake up dead any day now."

"That's not accurate at all." Her forehead crinkled. "You're being deliberately hurtful."

"For once, I'm bein' the reasonable one. I got a past, and it ain't pleasant."

"That doesn't matter to me. It never has."

"But, it should," he told her, stone-faced. "Charlotte, I've done terrible things. Nasty violence to folk that didn't rightly deserve it. I ain't the kind of man you need."

Her voice sounded strange when she asked, "What kind of man do you think I need?"

She was going to make him say it? "I don't know. Someone kind, like you. Fair. Leastwise, not one with blood on his hands."

Her lips pressed together and her hands balled into fists. She said in stilted tones, "I already had a man like that and he was taken from me."

As much as Arthur wanted to put his arms around her and plead forgiveness for his callousness, he wouldn't. For his own sake, as much as hers. "And there are plenty more out there better than me."

She glanced away for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts. She faced him straight on again. "Arthur, do you know what I see when I look at you?"

A murderer. An outlaw. A sick, dying bastard. But what he said was, "No."

"I see a man conflicted. Guilt-ridden from poor choices in his life. But one who's aiming to do better, be better."

"I ain't no more innocent than the killers I ran with."

"You don't think you've earned a sliver of serenity?"

"No."

Charlotte stared hard at him as if waiting for him to change his mind. He gritted his teeth and said nothing. He'd learned by now he couldn't be a bad man and expect good things to happen to him.

Finally, she sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple. "Arthur, I don't fully understand why you're pushing to leave so hastily, but you're not beholden to me." She glanced up at him. "If you feel so strongly about this, I won't stand in your way."

Simultaneously, relief and an aching grief flooded him. He turned away from her. He couldn't face her. He needed to get out of here before he changed his—

"However," Charlotte continued. "I only ask that you wait until morning to leave."

He balked and spun around. "Why?"

"I would appreciate it if you stayed long enough to drop me off in Annesburg tomorrow."

Arthur hesitated. That did not sound like a good idea. It would give her ample opportunity to try and convince him not to leave.

"Please?"

Damn it. He was too soft when it came to begging women. He ain't never learned how to refuse them. "Fine, but I ain't changing my mind."