*ONE MONTH LATER*
Arthur pulled his leather jacket tighter as he coughed dryly into the lapels, his horse walking slowly up the grassy path back to camp.
It was going be a very cold night and after such a long day of running errands, Arthur was trying to decide whether or not he had sufficient energy to dig through his things and find his winter coat. (The fluffy one he hadn't needed since just after Blackwater) Or if he should just dump everything he owned on top of him and go to sleep under a pile of dirty laundry. Miss Grimshaw be damned.
"Who is it?" Bill's distinctive voice asked from the shadows.
"It's Arthur, ya moron!"
Bill chuffed or laughed, Arthur couldn't tell. "Stay warm out their tonight." he cautioned as they passed, receiving a brief wave for his concern.
Arthur was surprised to find the camp quite busy as he rode in, seeming to only catch the attention of Charles who immediately came trotting over to assist him.
He greeted Arthur with a brief nod, rubbing gloved hands together for a last second or two of warmth before chilled, clumsy fingers, set to untying the blankets and other supplies.
Brisk wicked wind whisked around them, flapping cloth and tent polls alike.
Arthur was glad to be back, this was not a day for travel. Too much of the sun's warmth was hiding behind dark ominous clouds.
An especially harsh gust of wind blew in and knocked over a few empty crates, the domino effect sent the corner of a tent flapping wildly. Tipping his hat and ducking his head into the blast, Arthur happened to see John rushing over with a rope while Dutch yanked the cloth back into place.
"It been like this all day?" Arthur asked, hauling a saddlebag over his shoulder.
"Pretty much. It's rained some off and on but mostly it's the wind that's been wreaking havoc on everything. We've had to rearrange the camp a bit since most of the tent polls couldn't handle the wind. Everyone's been moved into two makeshift tents. The women in one, the men in the other."
Charles nodded in the direction of the two large frankein-tents. Each side appeared to be a collection of tarps, the largest tarps Arthur recognized as belonging to Dutch and the Marstons, had become the roof. The walls were roped down and secured in place and fortified by various crates, boxes and heavy barrels.
Arthur and Charles each clutched a bundle of woolen blankets as they made their way to the mound of tarps in the center of camp.
"Everyone decent?" Charles called as they approached.
"As decent as we'll ever be." Karen answered with a cheery shout.
"Oh, hush up you drunken fool." Miss Grimshaw chided opening the tent slightly.
"We come bearing gifts." Arthur said with a rye smile. "Warmth and food."
"Alcohol?" Karen asked as they entered.
"Ah'course." Arthur answered with a widening grin, tho he made sure to pass that particular goodie off to Miss Adler. Who promptly hid it behind Miss Tilly.
"Well in that case what the hell are you waiting for?" Karen hollered, unaware of the exchange.
Miss Grimshaw pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at Karen, a clear sign for Arthur and Charles to make a hasty exit. He gave a polite nod to little Jack as they left, good luck kid. he thought. your gonna need it.
Returning to the horse the two unloaded the last of the supplies, medicine and more blankets.
As they entered the men's tent, Arthur noticed it was a bit bigger than the other, which he was quietly thankful for since he didn't relish the idea of sharing the limited floor/bed space with Uncle. The inebriated fool was already tipsy, plopped in a corner complaining to Person about his lumbago acting up... again.
Arthur just rolled his eyes and stretched his aching arms, preparing to brave the bitter chill once more.
"Arthur." He heard Hosea's gentle voice call before he stepped outside. "How are you feeling my boy?"
"Go on," Charles coaxed "I'll tend to the horses." and he was gone before Arthur could turn back to face him.
If Arthur wasn't so exhausted he would have gone after him but he was so he didn't. Instead, he settled for a gracious "thank you." that he hoped reached his friend's ears before making his way over to Hosea.
The old con sat on a chair with his legs up on a crate, lamp-lit beside him with a book propped open in his lap.
"I'm feelin just Fine Hoesa." He assured the old codger, taking a seat on the floor. He leaned against a heavy crate and took the opportunity to stretch his long legs while he still had the room to do it. The resulting sigh was deep enough that it turned into a yawn.
"Are the roads as cold as out little camp?"
"Colder, didn't have the benefit of trees on some roads to block the wind."
"Have you eaten?"
"not yet, I-"
"Good, Pearson made a relatively good Beef and Bean stew for supper, you should try it."
"I even saved you some." Pearson piped up. "I think there are some good coals left, I'll go heat it." Arthur figured Pearson's sudden enthusiasm had more to do with avoiding Uncle rather than actual pride in his food. Reheating food for one was just something they didn't bother with but he didn't argue.
Bill, Javier and Reverend Swanson came in soon after. Each tucking their arms tight to their frozen bodies.
"How can it be so cold without snow on the ground?" Reverend Swanson complained.
"I knew we should have headed south." Javier agreed.
Arthur smiled absently as he watched them huddle together in solidarity. All voicing their support of Dutch's Tahiti plan.
He hadn't noticed how blurred his thoughts had become until he was woken up by a warm bowl being placed into his hands.
"Better eat it while it's still warm." Pearson suggested walking away.
Looking up Arthur realized the entire male contingent of the camp was now occupying the entire tent. Arthur surveyed the group quietly between mouthfuls of... well, actually quite good stew.
John sat across the tent form him on the floor laughing at something Dutch was saying. Bill was off guard duty and listened with Javier to every word Dutch was saying. They sat on crates as he stood above them, regaling them with some story. His arms waving in the telling, probably a wild tale of a daring hist he had been in. No doubt embellished with the famous Van Der Linde charisma.
Reverand Swanson, Kieran, Sean and Straus were all playing poker. Didn't seem to be going very well for Straus.
Pearson, Hosea and Lenny were gabbing about something. Charles whittled on a piece of wood, offering the occasional comment here and there, not too far from where Arthur sat.
Behind him, Arthur could hear the girls tent. A silvery laugh that sounded like Mary-Beth or Molly, rang through the air like a song and a chorus of giggles followed after a brief silence.
Then a snort, probably from Karen, followed by more laughter.
Arthur leaned his head back on the crate and took in the sights and sounds of contentment surrounding him. A happiness that had been absent since before Blackwater had somehow found refuge with the little bunch of undeserving outlaws. He marveled at how far they had come and how close they had become.
Arthur didn't remember when he last felt so at home, so safe. Perhaps it was when he still had Isaac and Eliza?
He opened his eyes again, not sure when he had closed them, this time to see John making his way towards him through the crowded tent. A concerned scowl across his face.
"How'r you doning?" he asked, sitting heavily beside Arthur.
"Fine." he answered, and John raised a questioning eyebrow in response, "Just thinking. Thinking about what we have." he gestured to the room as a whole. "We'd been running from everyone, O'Driscoll's, Pinkertons but once Micah left... I don't know, it's like-" he fumbled for the right words.
"Well, for one thing, we aren't fucking up our jobs anymore," Hosea added, joining the conversation abruptly. "That's for damn sure."
Uncle nodded sagely as tho he had somehow contributed to that improvement.
"Things have become calmer around camp." Charles said after a moment. "we are more at peace I think."
"Yeah." Person supplied off-handedly. "Overall, camp moral is the highest it's been in a long time." he quickly looked up at Dutch as if realizing what he'd said. "I- I'm not saying Micah leaving and the camp moral boost are related."
"Yeah," Arthur mumbled under his breath, "Just like the Aberdeens."
"The who?" asked John.
"You don't want to know."
Fortunately for Pearson, Dutch was too occupied with the conversation going on between him, Bill and Javier to notice, and possibly take offense to his comment.
Tho Arthur doubted he would have. Dutch had recovered surprisingly quickly from the loss of Micah, especially considering how much he had defended the man in the past. Then again, Dutch had a tendency to fixate on things and get passionate about projects. Perhaps that's all Micah ever was, just a passing project? Now left behind, abandoned and forgotten.
In the back of Arthurs mind, he wondered if that's all he was too.
A brief nudge from his brother brought him out of the morose thoughts. John had been doing that more and more lately. Actually, they all had. Dutch, Hoesa even Charles was observant enough to figure out what was going on and joined in. This time the subtle touch was disguised as taking the bowl from his hand but Arthur was growing too accustomed to the well-timed interventions to see them as other than what they were. A way to keep him from diving too deeply into the darkest corners of his own mind.
Arthur still wasn't completely sure what he had said to John that night in the woods, drunk out of his mind but whatever happened had been taken seriously by those he considered family. And for that he was grateful.
But the day's travel was quickly catching up with him again and despite how lively the room was, he knew he wasn't going to stay awake much longer. But just being here, in this moment, made him feel very fortunate. Even as he tipped his hat down over his eyes the voices somehow got quieter. A woolen blanket was pulled over him triggering a vague memory of something similar yet different. He remembered something, something from a different time and place... the same situation yet so different. In a camp where he didn't belong. But this one, this one he did.