Chapter Thirteen

"Please take care and remain true to the man I know you are."

It turned out Arthur didn't need to be concerned about Charlotte arguing with him for the rest of the night. After he agreed to hold off leaving, she retreated to her room, shutting the door and never coming out.

Was she giving him the silent treatment? He didn't reckon she were the kind of person to ignore him, but he weren't thinking he didn't deserve it neither. He only wished, since he was staying the evening, he could've actually spent some time with her on his last night.

He slept like shit and woke up coughing something terrible. Like his body knew he was about to betray it and leave the peaceful cabin to return to work. When he couldn't take being miserable in his room, he rolled out of bed and went to be miserable in the main room.

Charlotte woke an hour later. She didn't comment on his state, but there was no way she hadn't heard all his coughing in the early hours of the morning.

She paused in her doorway, dressed in the same skirt and top as when her family had visited. Likely, it was the cleanest and most intact clothing she had.

"You ready?" he asked gruffly before he changed his mind without her help.

"Before we head out, I want to give you something." She turned back into her room.

Arthur sighed and followed, pushing her door open further. "Charlotte, there ain't no need—" She faced him, cradling a tan leather coat. One he recognized. "Where'd that come from?"

She stepped up to him and handed it over, explaining, "It's the coat you were wearing when I found you. I couldn't salvage any of your other clothing, but I've cleaned and stitched this up the best I could."

His hands strayed over the leather. "You sewed this?"

"Contrary to your expectation," She smiled, a twinkle in her eye. "I'm not without any skills of my own, Arthur."

His mouth felt dry. "You didn't have to do this."

"Of course, I didn't have to." She shook her head. "I did it because I wanted to."

There she was, always giving and never expecting anything in return. Then he grasped the real reason she'd hidden in her room. She hadn't been ignoring him. "This is what you were doing last night?" Even after he'd snapped at her.

"I was hoping for a bit more time to tidy up some of the fraying, but it'll do for your journey." She patted the top of the coat. "Go on. Put it on."

Feeling unworthy of the kindness, Arthur pulled it over his shoulders. Charlotte started buttoning the coat before he could tell her he preferred it open. He allowed it, watching her concentrate on each button. When she reached the last one on the top, she smoothed out the collar and rested her palms on his chest.

Her crystal eyes met his. "What do you think?"

Arthur was thinking this was the kind of send off a wife gave her husband. Too intimate a gift for her to give to the likes of him. "It's nice."

She raised her brows. "No need to bestow high praise on my account."

He winced. "I didn't mean it like that."

She smiled and brushed her knuckles on his cheek. "I'm only teasing. I'm glad you like it."

Oh, God. He wanted to pull her close, forget everything except the two of them in this cabin and kiss her until oblivion.

She dropped her hands and stepped back. "I just have to grab my bag."

"I'll get the horse saddled." He turned on his heel and got out of there before he made a fool of himself.

He crossed the yard, his heart thumping in his ears as he tried to remember why the hell he was leaving. Micah needed to be dealt with and Arthur wanted the advantage of a surprise attack.

Before he'd fully convinced himself, Charlotte was opening and closing the front door. He finished readying the saddle and took her bag when she walked up.

"I'll have to ride sidesaddle with this skirt," she informed him, her hands twisting together.

"That's alright. I'll pull you up behind me." Arthur mounted up and reached his arm out for her.

She started to stretch up, but then drew back. "Wait!"

"Now, what are you doing?" If they didn't hit the trail soon, he was going to tell Charlotte to forget the whole thing and that they should go back inside and pretend yesterday's conversation had never happened.

She lifted her skirt and made her way back to the house, saying, "I need to put something out for Puck so he doesn't think I'm leaving for good."

Arthur shook his head. "That cat will be long gone by the time you get back here. He's probably long gone already."

"Oh, ye of little faith," she chided lightly. "Surely, by now, he considers this a safe haven."

Arthur watched her go inside and come back out with some meat scraps, setting them in a tin on the porch. Lucky beast would get all of her attention if he were smart enough to come back around. He scowled. God damn, was he jealous of a cat?

She made her way back over to him and he warned sourly, "You're going to attract rats."

She waved her hand, ignoring his piss-poor mood. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Charlotte raised her arm once more and he hauled her up and around. Her arms came around his waist as she pressed herself into his back, holding tight. Her body was warm against him and giving him all sorts a thoughts he shouldn't be having. Damn. Was he going to survive this trip?

"Are you alright, Arthur?"

"Fine," he grunted. He flicked the reins and they were on their way.

They rode silently for awhile. The trees whispered among themselves and twigs snapped under Jane's hooves. Arthur spotted two foxes bounding in the woods, nipping at each other carelessly.

In the backdrop of the serene morning, Charlotte asked quietly, "What do you have to finish?"

He turned his head. "Huh?"

"Last night, you said you had to finish something from the mountains. What is it?"

His shoulders tensed and he was unsure what to tell her. He said carefully, "It weren't just Pinkertons that left me for dead."

"You're going off to hurt someone?"

'Course she guessed his intentions first try. "Not just anyone. A right bastard who deserves it."

She fell silent. It was worse than if she had rebuked him, and he couldn't see her expression. Maybe that were for the best. He couldn't stand to see fear in her eyes.

"That ain't the only thing we're doing," he felt the need to add. "I want to make sure everybody landed on their feet."

"I understand."

Hell, maybe she did. Between him calling out for John and Dutch in a fever, revealing what Hosea had meant to him, and greeting Charles like a lost brother, it weren't too hard to put it together.

He led Jane up a trail turning right and Charlotte noticed their change in direction. "Where are we going?"

"I gotta meet up with Charles first." That was a damn lie. He could've dropped Charlotte in town first and then came back up here, but he found himself wanting to prolong his time with her.

"Alright." Whether she guessed at his tactic or not, she offered no protest.

The trail was steep and winding and when it turned downward, Charlotte squeezed him tighter. He asked her, "You doin' okay?"

"Yes." She released a drawn out breath. " As long as I'm not looking down. I may have a fear of heights."

Thinking of the one time he'd been nervous of being high up, he commented, "Then you wouldn't take to traveling by balloon too well."

It was just the distraction she needed. He felt her straighten as she asked in surprise, "You've ridden in a hot air balloon?"

"Crashed it too."

"My, my, what an illustrious life you've led. You'll have to tell me about it."

Illustrious. One word for it, he supposed. Probably wouldn't be smart to add he'd only been in one to scope out Sisika Penitentiary, to break out a man imprisoned for getting caught at a bank robbery.

No, he couldn't tell her any of that. "We're gonna go off the trail a bit. Get closer to the river to see if we can find Charles."

They didn't have to travel too far. Arthur spotted a smoke trail from the bottom of the hill and followed the direction of it. It weren't long before they found Charles' camp, near the river like he'd said.

Arthur waved a hand and greeted, "Hey, Charles."

"Hello, Arthur." Charles' attention went to the woman behind him. "Charlotte."

Charlotte nodded. "Good morning, Charles."

"When you didn't show up last night, I thought you'd changed your mind."

Charlotte offered, "I fear that's my doing. I asked Arthur to wait until the morning to give me a ride into Annesburg."

"And he brought you here?"

Arthur told him, "It were closer to come get you than going into town and riding back up the hill."

Charles raised a brow, clearly not accepting that explanation as readily as Charlotte had. "Let me put out this fire and I'll be ready to head out."

Arthur led the way back up the hill. Charles followed behind, starting a conversation with Charlotte. He asked her general questions like where she was from and how long she'd lived in the woods.

"It's been quite a few months now."

"And how long have you known Arthur?"

Arthur shot Charles a look. What was he up to?

"Oh." He could imagine Charlotte scrunching up her face as she thought on it. "Nearly as long as that. We—my husband and I, that is—weren't here long before he passed away. Arthur found me a about a week after that and was gracious enough to teach me some survival skills."

"Interesting."

"What is?" Arthur asked him suspiciously.

"You aren't always so selfless with your time."

He only grunted while Charles asked Charlotte about Chicago. Arthur didn't participate in the conversation. He knew what Charles was getting at, that he'd changed. There'd been more than a few times Charles had seen him reluctant to help anyone if it didn't benefit him or the gang.

They reached the outskirts of Annesburg, close enough that the smell of coal invaded his nostrils. He coughed a couple times at the unpleasant air. Damn. This town could fell him if he stayed too long.

"You can let me off here," Charlotte told him as they neared the post office.

As Arthur lowered her from the horse, his mind flew back to yesterday. She'd been willing to press an innocent kiss to him then. Now that she was reminded of his dangerous nature, would she ever try again?

He dropped down and worked on getting loose her bag while she patted the horse. He heard her murmur, "You watch over him, Miss Jane."

He handed over her bag and she said, "Thank you for bringing me this far, Arthur."

"It weren't a problem."

"Well, I hope you two stay safe in your travels." She nodded. "Goodbye, Arthur, Charles."

Arthur mounted up, but he couldn't stop himself from looking back. His eyes followed Charlotte making her way to the stagecoach. He knew Charles was watching him, waiting, but he couldn't just drop her off and leave it at that.

He dismounted, tossing over his shoulder, "Give me a minute, Charles."

"Take all the time you need, my friend."

He ignored the amusement in Charles' tone and jogged to catch up with Charlotte. She had just finished paying the coach driver and turned, her eyes widening in surprise. "Arthur."

"I...uh..." He scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable. Why the hell had he come over here? "You takin' the stagecoach all the way to Saint Denis?" Stupid.

She glanced at the stage. "Yes. I've done it once before. It's about a three hour ride."

He nodded. Why couldn't he think of anything to say?

Charlotte saved him from further awkwardness. "Where will you be, Arthur?"

The driver was checking his horses out of earshot, but Arthur didn't think it was safe to be candid with her. "Might be best if you don't know the particulars."

He thought she might ask more, but all she said was, "Okay."

"I don't know when we'll be back," he warned. If I'll be back.

"Arthur, I know you have issues to resolve. I just wish..." She sighed. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter at this point."

"You don't..." It was weak of him, but he had to know. "...you don't hate me for leavin'?"

Her brow furrowed as she placed her hands over his. "Of course not. You may have kept me in the dark as to the details of your former escapades, but I hold no illusions as to who you are." She cracked a smile. "You have a good heart, Arthur, but I think your rambling spirit wants a turn at the helm."

He turned his palms and held onto her hands, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. As he studied Charlotte's expression, he realized at that moment what had been missing, what he'd been desperately wanting, from his last conversation with Mary before everything went to shit.

Trust.

Mary used to have that hopeful glimmer in her eyes, but she'd given up on him long ago. And rightfully so, if he were being honest. She'd pushed him to run, to leave Dutch, but she hadn't understood why he couldn't.

When he'd told her he had people to take care of, her eyes had dimmed and she'd thought he meant to kill folk rather than get his friends out. She'd taken it the wrong way and he hadn't corrected her. Mary hadn't understood his responsibility for the others. They'd been his family. The women, his brothers, and the kid. Hell, maybe even Uncle.

"That doesn't mean I don't want you to be careful." Charlotte pulled him out of his ruminations, raising a hand to his cheek. "I'd like it if you'd come back in one piece."

Come back. His heart was pounding loudly and he released a slow breath. "And if I don't?"

A tiny smile touched her lips. "I suppose, I'll have to hunt you down and put you back together once more."

The coachman cleared his throat. "We shouldn't dally, ma'am, if you want to make it to Saint Denis before luncheon."

Arthur helped her step into the coach, not releasing her hand until he had to shut the door. She leaned out the window and he reclaimed her hand one more time.

"Take care, Mrs. Balfour."

"Same goes for you, Mr. Morgan."

He kissed her knuckles as one last sendoff and released her. She sat back and the driver started off, obscuring his view of her. The pain in his chest was unbearable as he watched that carriage drive away. It got nothing to do with breathing in the damn coal in the air.

He returned to Charles and they began their ride out of town without speaking. He couldn't get the image of Charlotte peering up at him with unwavering tenderness out of his mind.

When they slowed their pace, he saw Charles shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

"Just say it, Charles."

Charles pulled up beside him, studied him a moment before asking, "Arthur, you sure you want to go through with this?"

Instead of answering, Arthur turned it on his friend, "You're the one who came to me."

"I came up here expecting to find a body to bury." Charles watched him solemnly. "But, seeing you out of Dutch's reach, you could survive. You're out, you're free. Do you want to ruin that?"

"Goddamn it." He pulled on his reins and Charles followed suit, stopping in the middle of the trail. "What are you saying?"

"I want to know if you're running towards something or away from something."

"What the hell do you think I'm running from?"

Charles stared at him as if it were obvious.

That just irritated him and he growled out, "You ain't making sense, Charles..."

"Arthur, you were always the first to advise someone against seeking revenge. You called it a fool's game. Why are you so keen on it now?"

"I ain't doin' it for revenge."

"Then, why?"

"I..." couldn't handle it if Micah found out I'm alive, where I was staying and who I'm soft on. Damn. He was being driven by fear. Fear his past would overtake him. "Micah—"

"Micah only sped up the inevitable. You know how Dutch was getting, reckless and unreasonable. He kept throwing us into bigger and bigger jobs, but they never amounted to much, if anything, except the attention of the authorities."

He didn't have an argument for that. "I don't know. But, if I don't do this, I'm leavin' it unfinished."

"It doesn't have to be you who finishes it."

Arthur hopped from his horse, frustrated. "Goddamn it, Charles! What do you want me to do? Leave them be?"

"If the authorities don't catch up with Micah or Dutch, something else will."

Arthur paced in agitation. "What about finding Marston and his family?"

"I think you've already done all you can for them at this point. The rest is up to John."

"That ain't as comforting a line as you think it is," he replied wryly and then shook his head. "And the others? You ain't concerned about none of them?"

"Sure, I am. I didn't run with the gang as long as you, but some of them are my friends too." Charles patted his horse as it stepped anxiously from foot to foot. "but, I'm thinking now it might be best if none of us are seen in the same place. The girls are smart enough to blend and settle in somewhere. Everyone else knows how to make their own way. No one's new at starting over."

Arthur let Charles' words sink in. He still wanted to find out what had happened to everyone, if they were surviving all right. But, turning up unexpectedly in their new lives could ruin it.

Charles continued, "If you want to hunt down Micah and Dutch, you won't ride alone. I'll be by your side in a fight. But, there's no guarantee we'll find one or both right away. Do you want to spend the rest of your days seeking vengeance?"

Did he want to throw away his life trying to kill Micah-fucking-Bell? He'd nearly done it once. And as far as Dutch went, he didn't know if he had it in him to do anything about the man who he'd once seen as a father figure. Arthur weren't as cold-blooded and disconnected as Dutch seemed to be nowadays.

He continued to argue, "So, you reckon I should disappear and start a new life too?"

"I'm saying, my friend," Charles raised a brow. "You already have."

The image of Willard's Rest came to mind. Charlotte's laugh, their playful banter, the calm nights when she read and he wrote or drew, that tattered cat she kept trying to coax inside...

"You're setting up like I can live a life with Charlotte. What if she won't have me?"

Charles scoffed at him. "After that never-ending sendoff I witnessed in Annesburg? I don't think you have to worry."

Arthur weren't too sure about that. "And what about all the trouble that could follow me?"

"Since when are you concerned with trouble?"

"It ain't for my sake I'm thinking."

"Wouldn't you rather be with Charlotte if that trouble does come calling?"

That was a knife through him that cut deeper than Charles knew. He'd had a lady when he was hale. And a son, a bright boy. A family that he'd failed to stay for and his recklessness had been their demise. That was a dark road he didn't want to return to right now and he slammed a door in his mind to hide it.

He opened another as he remembered his first day waking in Charlotte's house, what she'd said to him after he'd rejected deserving a second chance at life. Please cherish the one that's been given to you.

"Goddamnit." He swung back on his horse.

Charles turned towards him. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." Arthur clutched his reins. "Probably something stupid."