Chapter Nineteen

"I don't know, it's hard to explain...I have to do this."

When Arthur and Charlotte passed by the bank, he saw in his mind's eye the day of the bank robbery and knew for a certainty it was past time he paid his respects.

"Charlotte, I want to visit Hosea." He declared it like he expected an argument.

"Alright," she agreed in her easy manner. "Let's collect our things from the hotel and do so."

She started down the street, but Arthur caught her by the arm. He'd been so distracted, he'd nearly forgotten where he'd put the rest of his money while she'd been chatting with her mother. "Er, actually, we got a ride over here."

Confusion switched to curiosity as she followed him. "What kind of ride?"

"Me and Ben got a look-see at the wagons they had for sale at the stables. The cart ain't nothing special, but it'll get the job done."

"I was wondering what was taking you two." She passed him a sidelong look. "I hope my brother didn't chat your ear off."

"We did get to talkin'..." That boy hadn't been shy neither. He'd been quiet until they'd reached the doctor's office.

Ben had started with an abrupt, "Are you going to marry my sister?"

Arthur had shot him a disbelieving glance. "Damn, boy, you don't talk much, but when you do, you cut right to it, don't you?"

"Charlotte likes you," Ben had continued matter-of-fact.

"I know it," Arthur sighed. "And she's worse off for it."

Ben frowned. "Don't you like her?"

"That ain't the problem, kid. Not in the long run."

"I don't understand."

"In a manner of speaking, I ain't got long in this world."

Ben pressed a knuckle to his chin as if were giving Arthur's words some real thought. "Are you sick with something?"

"Good guess," Arthur grumbled.

Ben's eyes widened. "Does Charlotte know?"

Arthur scowled. "'Course she knows. And so does your daddy. It's why he's all hellbent against me."

Ben had shrugged at that. "It would have been one thing or another. Father's never liked any of Charlotte's suitors. Not even Cal."

"Your daddy try and bribe them too?"

Ben cringed. "He pulled that on you?"

"Yeah, but don't tell Charlotte. It's the last thing she needs to be burdened with on top of dealing with me."

Since last night, Arthur had itched for his journal, but he'd left it behind at Willard's Rest. He couldn't seem to get his thoughts straight without writing them down. Charlotte had so much faith that he was meant to be here, in life still. But he didn't feel it. Under the lighting of the street lamps she'd stared up at him with her heart in her eyes, silently willing him to see it himself. But all he saw was that Charles was right about her growing soft on him. And, much as it pleased him, it also didn't bode well in his mind.

Getting away from his musings, Arthur led Charlotte to a gray workhorse attached to a small cart. He patted the horse and it nuzzled him. He was a friendly old boy, a Dutch Warmblood with an affectionate nature.

Charlotte lifted a brow. "Why is the wagon parked like this?"

Arthur had hoped she wouldn't have noticed the cart lopsided and perched halfway on the sidewalk. He didn't look at her as he rubbed the horse. "I, uh, mighta let Ben drive it here."

"Oh really?" She seemed tickled over the prospect.

He muttered, "Yeah, and I shoulda kept my damn mouth shut."

The boy had been excited and a little too enthusiastic. Damn near ran down five people on the way over. Afterwards, Ben had thanked him, saying he'd never had a chance at driving before. But it was the last thing that Ben said to him that really stuck in his memory. After he'd jumped from the wagon, the boy had turned to him.

"You're wrong, you know."

Arthur hitched the horse. "'Bout what?"

"Charlotte has never thought caring for people as cumbersome. It's why she did so well working for Father." Ben shook his head. "If you don't see that, you're a fool, sir."

Arthur had patted the horse, saying quietly, "Never claimed to be otherwise."

His attention was drawn back to the present with Charlotte walking around and examining the cart. Now he was seeing it with fresh eyes and he didn't like the look of it. He and Ben had checked it over, of course. Sure, it was missing a board or two and caked in dried mud. The back gate hinges were loose, but attached at least. Most importantly, the wooden wheels were sturdy and the frame was solid.

Because she hadn't given her opinion yet, he felt compelled to say, "It's got a decent size bed. Big enough for a buck, should you take it hunting."

She looked up from her inspection. "This is brilliant, Arthur."

He shook his head. "I don't reckon it's all that great, but it'll get us to where we need going."

She glided up next to him. "And we've acquired another horse, I see."

He quirked a smile. "Another stray for your collection."

"And what's this fellow's name?" She ran a hand down the horse's white mane and he moved his head for more attention from her. She laughed and pet him.

"The boys at the stable yard called him Vee. He's a retired workhorse so he came real cheap. Ain't much use for anything now other than carting people around. But that don't work too well in the city streets seeing as how big he is."

"I see." She tilted her head. "You said his name's Vee?"

"Told me it was short for the Spanish word for old."

"Hmm. Viejo, I think?" Her brows drew together. "How odd."

"Why?"

"Well, he wasn't always old." Her frown turned to amusement. "Did he have a different name when he was young?"

"Damned if I know."

"In any case, I hope you also purchased feed and supplies enough for two horses."

Arthur grinned as he'd been expecting her to voice that worry. He lifted the canvas on the back of the wagon and presented the supplies.

She looked in and smiled. "You've clearly thought of everything."

"I doubt it. But it'll do."

"Yes." She faced him, rose and pecked a kiss on his cheek. Her breath whispered against his skin. "I think it'll do quite nicely."

Arthur stared down at her and, as usual, selfishly wanted more. When he'd seen her with her hair loose in her hotel room this morning, it'd stirred something in him. He couldn't put a name to it, this craving for something he didn't know if he'd ever truly had.

Unaware of all the turmoil in his mind, Charlotte asked, "Shall we head out?"

He nodded. "After you, ma'am."

Arthur offered his hand and she gripped it briefly as she stepped onto the wagon. Once he was settled next to her, she asked, "Were you able to get those tonics alright?"

"Sure." He grimaced. "But I reckon that doctor don't like me too much. Got the feeling he was miffed to see me walking around as it were."

She sighed. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. He'd been quite certain you wouldn't survive the week when I brought you in. I hope he wasn't rude to you."

Arthur shrugged. "Seems to be my specialty lately, pissing off doctors."

After that, he concentrated on maneuvering the cart through the city. He parked beside the Hotel La Licorne and he and Charlotte went inside. They packed separately and met back up at the wagon.

"So where are we going, Arthur?" asked Charlotte once they were ready to head out again.

"It ain't too far from the Unicorn actually." Abigail had told him where they'd buried Lenny and Hosea. Under a great big tree north of Saint Denis. "A little ways out of the city is all."

Life had moved so quickly after the bank robbery. The shipwreck and landing in Guarma had kept his mind distracted with no time to dwell on the deaths of his friends, only on survival.

Then they'd been found out by Pinkertons again in Lakay. They shoulda gone on the run then for good, but instead Dutch and Micah had found time to kill Cornwall and fully sever the relationship between the army and Rains Fall's tribe. Then Arthur had got caught up in that last train robbery and saving Abigail. There had never been a moment to properly mourn Hosea, or any of them lost souls really.

As they moved away from the city, the tree weren't hard to miss. Seemed like the only live thing for miles. At the sight of it and the two crosses below it, a lump formed in his throat.

Arthur pulled the cart to the side of the trail and hopped down, his boots squishing in mud. He turned to assist Charlotte. She rested her hands on his shoulders and he clutched her waist and set her down.

He released her, but she didn't move away. "Arthur, are you nervous?"

"I ain't..." He purposefully had his back to the graves so what was the point in lying? "Yes."

"I understand." she said it kindly. "But you can do this."

She placed her hand in his, tugging him along to encourage his feet to move. Once they were standing in front of the graves of his friends, he felt like a fool. "What do I say to him?"

Charlotte squeezed his hand. "Anything you want. Talk as if he were right beside you. Tell him something you never got a chance to."

"That could take all day."

"I find it easiest to keep the conversation simple and concise."

Simple. He could do that. Charlotte stood at his side, a steadfast and comforting presence. He wondered what Hosea would think, him here holding hands with a woman as calm, caring and apart from the gang as Bessie had been.

"Do you know this gentleman too?" Charlotte pointed at the second cross. Lenny Summers.

He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out hoarse. "Yeah."

"Why don't you start with him?"

Arthur let out a breath. "I'd say Lenny was the smartest outta all of us, if he'd been given half a chance at a different life. Didn't know it then that he were aspiring toward nothing. I hoped he coulda had better than me at least. He was just a kid..."

Charlotte let him trail off before eventually prompting him, "How did they die?"

Should he tell her? He didn't want to deny them again, especially at their graves. Seemed like bad luck somehow.

"Shot by lawmen. During a bank robbery, no less."

She nodded solemnly, somehow without a flicker of judgment, fear or otherwise. He didn't know what she could be thinking, but he let it pass and shifted his attention to the other wooden cross.

"Hosea could talk his way outta damn near anything, but he couldn't get himself outta that last one." Keep it simple. "You were a father to me, Hosea. I loved you as such and I shoulda told you that when you was alive. And I sure as hell shoulda listened to you more. Maybe half the things that went wrong coulda been avoided."

Hosea knew since Colter they was going in the wrong direction. After the Blackwater fiasco, they should have listened to what he'd kept saying. Stay low and go back west. But it was like Dutch had purposefully done the opposite.

Arthur suddenly recalled a day he'd been striding through camp and overheard a conversation between Tilly, Hosea and Lenny. He had stopped to listen as they remembered poor Jenny and the conversation had turned to talking about how they'd like to be buried.

Hosea had said, "When I die, I just want to be buried with friends."

And Lenny had agreed. Least Hosea and Lenny had each other, which was more than the rest in the ground got. Hosea likely woulda wanted to have been buried beside Bessie, but Arthur thought near Lenny was the next best thing.

Arthur turned away and rubbed a hand down his face, doing his damnedest to ignore the wetness. "Let's go."

OOOOOOOOO

Arthur was quiet when they returned to the wagon and started down the trail again. His mind was full of memories of Hosea and Lenny and the rest of the gang. He'd blocked out some of it, since waking in Charlotte's house. But now he faced it, remembering how it all went wrong and how there wasn't one occasion where a single differing choice of his coulda stopped the failures and saved everyone. The downfall of the Van Der Linde gang had been inevitable. If he were a religious man, he'd say it was all meant to be, but it weren't worth the cost of all them lives just for him to have a damn epiphany.

"Arthur..." Charlotte broke his recollecting. "I don't know if this is the right time for it, but there's something I want to talk to you about."

He turned his head. "Yeah?"

"Would you...would you come live with me at Willard's Rest?" She lifted her head. "On a more permanent basis?"

Arthur wouldn't say he wasn't expecting her to make that offer. It warmed him as much as it gave him a terrible ache to hear. He stared straight ahead, at Vee plodding along the trail. If he said yes, what was he damning her with?

When he didn't respond, she added quickly, "In whatever capacity is comfortable for you, of course."

She was giving him an out, a way to smother their amorous connection, all for the notion he'd have somewhere to hang his hat. As if he and Charlotte could go back to a simple friendship, the way it started. A damn impossible feat for his side of things and he didn't think he was wrong in saying it was the same for her.

Thoughts of the gang's demise swirling in his head, he said, "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Oh. Why?"

Damn. Charlotte never seemed afraid to ask point blank any question she wanted the answer to. He shifted with discomfort. "If you knew half the things I done, you wouldn't make such an offer."

She tilted her head. "You've spent all this time with me and you think me so disingenuous?"

"I didn't say that, but you don't know nothing 'til I tell you."

She lifted her chin. "Well then, tell me so I can reevaluate."

Tell her? He barked a short, self-deprecating laugh. "That ain't happenin'."

"Why not?"

Shit, he didn't know at this point. He shifted the conversation. "It ain't just about me being an outlaw."

"What else is there?"

"Charlotte..." He was too frustrated to think of the words to argue. Didn't she get he wasn't good enough?

"Do you believe I can't understand because of my privileged life? Is that it?"

It weren't what he'd been thinking, but he clung to the excuse she'd given him. "Yes."

"I know we haven't lived the same kind of lives. You've had to do many things to survive that I could probably never imagine."

His hands tightened on the reins. He didn't know why it made him angry. Most likely, just annoyed at his own life choices. It weren't no fault of hers, but he snarled, "How about I tell you how I got TB in the first place? That weren't about survival." He didn't wait for her to answer. "I beat a poor man for money, widowed his wife and left his son without a father."

If he wanted to shock her, he failed. Charlotte said simply, "And I see you suffering because of it every day."

The words unsettled him because he'd said the same thing to Mrs. Downes when he'd handed over a bundle of cash and told her and her son to start a new life.

Mrs. Downes still had some decency for him despite all the pain he'd caused. She'd told him to forget about his guilt, that it weren't doin' no one no good. If only it were that easy, to forget. But he'd found it impossible and no matter how many good deeds he'd done, by the end of the day it never felt enough.

"To be frank, Arthur, I want this relationship to progress." Charlotte didn't mince her words. "Do you?"

'Course he did. He bowed his head, shading his expression with his hat, even though he doubted anything was hidden from her at this point. He'd already come to the conclusion he was too much of a burden on her. Even if her father was right and it wouldn't be for long. 'Sides he weren't warranted the soft life after all the harm he'd done against other folk.

Like she read his damn mind, she scooted against him and placed a hand on his arm. "Arthur, you aren't undeserving of happiness."

The hell I ain't. "Too late in the game for it now."

"I don't think that's true either."

"It ain't my place to end up content." Not when he'd robbed the possibility from so many others.

When Charlotte didn't respond, he assumed she had no reasonable answer to that. He turned to her, but her gaze was locked onto the forest. Her brows furrowed and he looked in the same direction. A moving, orange glow flickered between the trees. Easy to spot, despite the daylight.

It turned out to be a horseless wagon on fire and careening down the hill. Arthur pulled on the reins, stopping Vee as the burning wagon wildly streamed across the path in front of them and rolled up the other side of the hill.

Arthur frowned. "What the hell?"

"Arthur, in the trees, on the left!"

Where the wagon had come flying from, popping noises started and then cracking sounds as bullets hit the wooden planks of their wagon.

He hollered, "Get off the cart!"

Charlotte obediently followed his instruction as they both dropped down the side of the cart not being shot at. They pressed their backs against the front wooden wheel. Bullets cracked the seat of the wagon where they'd abandoned. Arthur pulled out his revolver. They were lucky these people couldn't shoot for shit.

Charlotte's face paled as she told him, "It's Murfrees."

Arthur cursed under his breath. Nasty bastards. He asked lightly, "You ain't got that rifle hidden in your skirts, do you?"

She turned wide, fearful eyes towards him. "No."

Not the time for jokes, Morgan. He cleared his throat. "Listen, Charlotte. You gotta stay low. Don't move."

She reached for him. "What are we going to do, Arthur?"

He didn't have a damn clue. "I got this revolver, but not much for bullets. Gotta make it count. How many you see out there?"

She closed her eyes, concentrating. "I saw at least five or six."

Arthur's heart was beating wildly as he told her with a certain grimness, "Get ready to witness your first shootout, darlin'."