"You come back to me at the end of the day. Worn out or not, you get yourself right back here."
Arthur wrestled with his sheet where he lay asleep on his cot, as the sounds of familiar conversations from dreams past filled his head. Eliza's voice.
"Arthur… We can't afford this."
Then his own.
"I'll say what we can afford."
A glimpse of her smile.
"You'll never see it off me."
It was the morning he'd given her the sapphire necklace. The same day they'd had an unwelcome visit.
"Just don't…don't take any unnecessary risks, all right? We need you. In more ways than one."
"Unnecessary risks? Me? You kiddin'? Not with my family waitin' at home. Wouldn't dream of it."
Flashes of his younger self leaving the cabin, then rushing back in a flurry astride Boadicea to find them ambushed back in the bedroom, two figures standing over them.
Eliza gasping, "Arthur!"
"You busted into the wrong house."
The bang of his own gunshot, and the thud of a body hitting the floor.
The other man stumbling away bloodied and terrified.
"Never come back."
"Keep your eyes on me, babies," Eliza whispered to the children.
His own voice again: "Remind me why we still live here."
"We'll live anywhere, as long as you're there, Arthur Morgan." A sniffle.
"Hey… You're all right. We're all right now. All of us."
"It ain't that. You're just so good to me. So good to us. There ain't no comparison. And it's never been so clear to me. You're a gentle and kind husband and father. Who could ask for anything more? I love you, Arthur. I love you."
He could make out the sight of his younger self holding the three of them in his big arms and gently swaying back and forth on the edge of the bed.
Alive. Safe and healthy. Flooding relief.
And the rest of the room faded into view: the disheveled dresser and trunk, the smashed kerosene lamp, the body slumped across the floor, blood seeping from what was left of his head.
The children were crying and sputtering nervously, and Eliza was pressing their faces tight to her chest.
"I'll get him outta here," his younger self finally said low. "Gimme a minute."
He walked over, stooped to pull the body by the ankles away from the wall, threw it over his shoulders, and walked out the front door with it.
Still covering their eyes with her hands, Eliza walked the children to their room, instructing them to stay there until she came back in. She hurriedly retrieved wash rags and a basin of water, going to the floor in her room to try to mop up the large blood stain. But it remained, no matter how hard she scrubbed.
She finally decided to lay a clean swath of linen over it, and have it stay there permanently. But she couldn't do that for the little spots of blood spatter dotting the wood of the walls. She prayed they wouldn't be noticed by the children, and that the spots themselves wouldn't stare her down every time she passed.
Meanwhile Arthur walked quite a ways off the property, detesting the thought of this body being buried anywhere on his land.
And that night the two of them sat quietly on the edge of the children's bed, trying to explain in the best way they could.
"They wanted to hurt you, real bad. All of you, even Mama. And I stopped 'em. That's really all there is to it." Arthur had made a point to keep his timbre calm and even, and he looked them in the eyes as he spoke.
But the words alone were disturbing enough. And their little doe eyes glistened as they looked up at him, their mouths bending into pained frowns.
"But…but why?" came the question in Isaac's timid voice. "Why'd they wanna hurt us? They don't even know us."
Arthur let out a long sigh and gently wagged his head. "I don't know why, except that… People, when they lose their way, it really don't matter who they hurt." He watched Eliza gaze at them, then swallow painfully and turn away.
"We're all real tired," he added. "We ain't gonna find all the answers to what we're feelin' tonight. What I do want you to know, without a doubt," he lifted his voice just a little and spoke slowly and methodically, in hopes Eliza knew it was meant for her as well, though he kept his eyes on the children, "is that I will always protect you. Understand me? I don't want you to live in fear. I will always, always protect you."
Moving only his gaze, he glanced up to see Eliza still looking away.
They held the children close and steady for a few minutes, giving them kisses and telling them of their love before finally making it to their own room.
Eliza changed into her white cotton nightgown, and as he changed out of his own clothes, he watched her sit on her edge of the bed and gaze at the wall with a dazed, pale expression. He heard her take a breath when he sat on his own side of the bed in his long johns.
"I didn't…" she breathed, and he looked over at her. "I had no idea…people could be so cruel. We were goin' about life, so carefree an' happy. And all the time, they were out there. I'm their mother, why didn't I know?" her voice pinched a bit.
"It ain't your fault," he shook his head. "You're shocked, and in pain, and you're lookin' for someone to blame. But it ain't you."
She swallowed. "I saw it in his eyes, Arthur. Flashes of malice, and wickedness. I was sure," she swallowed and shook her head. "We couldn't get to you, and I was so sure—"
When she couldn't finish the sentence, he reached out and took her hand, silently willing her to stop recounting the painful memories, for her own sake. At the same time though, he knew she was still processing, and that this was all part of it.
"From that moment," she went on, her voice shaky, "I've wrestled with the thought…of a world where they're gone." Her teary eyes rose to meet his. "A world where they're dead." She clenched her eyes tight, and the tears ran down as she sucked in a hasty breath. Opening her eyes to look at him again, her chin trembled sorely as she brought a hand to her mouth and whispered, "My very soul would cry out in horror."
Watching her sift like sand, he quickly brought his arms around her and held her close, bringing his hand to the back of her head. He gently stroked her hair as she cried and wept and worked to catch her breath, though her groans and gasps only rose in volume. He could feel her whole body shaking against him, could feel her fingers tighten around fistfuls of his long johns at his back.
"Mercy, mercy!" she sobbed deeply into his shoulder. "Arthur!"
His brows drew up, and he tried to breathe calmly and evenly, though the same thoughts sent a quake through his own soul, and the sight of her in such a state tore at the fibers of his heart.
He continued to hold her, rubbing up and down her back and bringing his fingers softly to her temple, slowly pulling them back through her cool, silky hair. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, and they sat like that for a few minutes until her breathing started to calm enough to match his.
He could think of nothing else to comfort and reassure her, except the feel of him with her. When she finally sat up and sniffed, he brushed her hair from her face. And as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead gently to hers, his own harried soul produced, quiet and merely breathed: "I can't lose you. Any of you. I won't."
At the sound, she opened her eyes to look up into his face and saw a fatigued, worried look she'd only ever seen twice before—each time she birthed their children.
He finally drew away, his eyes heavy. And as she slowly lied back onto the pillow, he went with her, his back curling as he rested his cheek on her breast and brought his arm over her abdomen. And she ran her fingertips through his hair, finally resting her hand atop his arm.
Over the next couple days, the family tried for a semblance of normal, though it felt as though a nervous hush had fallen over them, and it took a while for the hazy cloud to gradually lift from where it hung about them. It wasn't until the third evening, when Arthur and Eliza heard both children giggle from their bedroom when they were supposed to be getting shut-eye, that they felt they could relax, take a breath, and smile.
When Eliza went to the cupboard in the kitchen and pulled down a jar, he walked over and turned with his side to the counter to face her.
"You know I don't blame you at all. Truly, I don't," he said quietly. "But I want you to start back up with your arms trainin'. We're gonna get back at it with full vigor, 'til you feel comfortable. 'Cause I want you to be safe."
"I was thinkin' the same thing," she said as she unlatched the jar and immediately tilted the mouth towards him.
When he looked down and saw it was full of roasted peanuts, he smiled and dove his hand in. "Y'know…I been thinkin' some other things too…" he said as he leaned his hip against the counter and popped a shell between his fingers. "Been thinkin' a'…finally movin' us up outta here."
"Oh?" she said as she took a peanut, keeping her eyes on him. "Where to?"
He looked up at her. "Thinkin' a findin' a nice plot a' land out west, there's still plenty out there—"
"California?" her eyes went wide.
A smirk grew on the corner of his mouth at her reaction as he popped a peanut into his mouth and munched it. "And you an' I, we could start a horse breedin' ranch."
"Oh, could we?!" she gasped and nearly jumped, her latent smile now unhindered.
He couldn't help but grin bright as he pulled another peanut out of the jar. "'Course, if you like the idea. We got Bo an' Samson to start with. Ain't nothin' stoppin' us."
She nodded vigorously as she chewed.
"Be the perfect time. Isaac ain't started school quite yet. Hasn't made friends, put down roots. I mean, we'll always miss Colorado." Still leaning against the counter he threw another peanut into his mouth and looked up, taking a breath. "Main point is…" he looked into her eyes, speaking in hushed tones as his expression grew a bit sober, "can't stay here."
She glanced down. "I know."
"Not after that," he gave his head a single short shake as he looked back down at the jar.
She nodded. "I'll start packin' us up. If I'm spendin' time with you, trainin' with guns, we can be ready in about a week." She ate another peanut. "How're we gonna get Bo an' Samson cross country?"
"I'll get us a couple work horses, and we'll take a wagon."
She coughed and sputtered. "A wagon? What, are you crazy?" she said in a strained whisper. "It's 1894! Wagon'll take twice as long! Arthur, we'll take the train!"
He leveled his gaze at her. "Oh sure. Ask the guy that used to rob 'em to ride one. No, no—" he held up a hand. "Ask him to have his family ride one, even better!"
She rolled her eyes a bit, smirking and setting her jaw on tilt.
"Ain't no way. Ain't no way," he tacked on for good measure. "Wagon be just fine."
She took a breath and let it out through her nose, setting her hand on her hip. "You'd rather, drive us cross country, in a rickety ol' wagon, than just take a train?"
He grinned, lifted his brows, and brought his chin forward to match her sheer sarcasm. "That's what I said."
She squinted at him. "Well, if you get to be crazy, I get to be too."
His brow twisted quizzically.
"Take us to Saint Denis!" she smiled pleadingly, bringing her folded hands up before her chin.
"What!"
"Please?"
"That counts for crazier 'an me!"
"It always sounded so wonderful to visit. You know my papa used to bring me back trinkets from there."
He winced sourly. "It's overrated. Ain't nothin' to write home about."
"Well how'm I ever gonna know for myself?"
"It's the wrong way, baby!" he frenetically waved his arms with wide, incredulous eyes, whispering in a strained tone and almost laughing. "What, you wanna hit up New York on the way too?"
She smirked at his sarcasm. "I bet the kids would love to see a new place."
"They'll see plenty. You're talkin' double, now it's triple if we go backwards!"
She clucked her tongue and slumped her shoulders. "It's probably my last chance to see it, Arthur," she whined, providing a big doe-eyed look as she gazed up at him.
"Agh. Every time!" he grumbled in a low whisper, smacking the heel of his hand against his forehead and wiping his hand down over his face. "All right. You promise to work hard on gun practice with me, and we'll visit Saint Denis 'fore headin' out west."
When she smiled bright and quietly whooped, he knew it was hardly a bargain, giving her something in exchange for what she'd already planned to do. He smirked and shook his head at himself, letting out a wheezy scoff.
"You're soft as water when it comes to her, bud," Arthur smirked, wishing he could pat his own shoulder. "Don't even try to pretend to be firm. One look at her, an' she can have anything she wants. She damn well deserves it." He smiled at the sight of Eliza clenching her hands and bouncing a bit in excitement. "Softest spot I ever seen." But as he swallowed, his expression grew a bit sober. "Musta been right confusin' to her in reality. 'Fact, I know it was." He slowly sighed. "Ain't changed. Got the same soft spot when I think about her."
When the scene melted and shifted, a play of images slowly flashed before him. He saw the pair of them standing side by side outdoors while the children were inside, and she focused on all the things he taught her about guns and how to handle them. He'd show her how to best hold it, how to best fire, and she'd immediately repeat. Over and over and over again they'd practice, each day, until he was satisfied with how quickly she could grab the gun and aim, how well she could hit the target. Until she felt comfortable.
They were also saying goodbye to Addie and visiting Eliza's parents' graves one last time. Packing up what could be easily transported—food for the journey, clothes, blankets, keepsakes, and small necessities—filling up the back half of their covered wagon, but leaving room to sleep inside each night of their travels.
By the end of the week, he'd sold the property, sold their chickens and Eliza's milking cow, bought two work horses, and they were walking through the house to say farewell to what they'd known. Arthur hitched the work horses, placing them where they'd pull the majority of the weight at the front of Boadicea and Samson.
When they all climbed up into the wagon seat, Isaac sighed as he and Hope sat between their parents. "I'munna miss it," he mumbled quietly.
"We all will," his mother responded, reaching over and stroking his head. "But we're on to even better things. Promise."
"You're gonna like California, Isaac," his father said as he took the reins in his hands. "Don't feel like it now, but you'll probably like it even better. Trust me."
He watched Isaac nod a bit dejectedly, and he glanced up at Eliza. "Main thing is, we'll be together. Right?" he said.
Both children nodded.
He smirked and faced forward. "All right, here we go…" he sang. Grunting a, "Yup," he nudged the horses onward, and they were off.
No more than fifteen minutes later, they'd stopped for the children to relieve themselves one at a time in the bushes with the aid of their mother. And half an hour later, they were begging to stop and play.
"Let's just get somethin' straight right here at the beginnin'," Arthur said firmly. "Two stops a day. Got it?" he held up two fingers. "Two."
Isaac started in with, "But what if—"
"Two."
Hope tried to pipe up. "But—"
"Two," he eyed them. "Better use 'em to do what you gotta do."
With Arthur refusing to stop for more than two rest breaks a day, the children were sometimes required to relieve themselves while riding in the bed of the covered wagon. And before long, Eliza got so good at being able to tell when they needed to go, she'd tell them she'd meet them in the back before they said anything.
In one instance, they were all three in the back, and Arthur listened in amusement from the seat as Eliza tried to wrangle their focus.
"Okay, Isaac. Hope's turn. Turn around and face the corner."
The sound of tinkling into a jar. A little gasp.
"Oh no! I got some on the blanket!"
"It's okay—"
"Ho-oope! You got it on the blanket?"
"It's all right. Don't pester her—"
A sniffle and a whining cry. "It's 'cause Daddy jostled the wagooon!"
Arthur's expression smoothed into a smirk, and he hung his head, shaking it with a groan and a wheeze.
Each night they'd stop to pull over and make camp. Arthur would start a fire and cook supper, and they'd sing around the campfire for a bit before retiring to sleep in the bed of the covered wagon, where the children would lie between them.
Arthur was proud of the way the children behaved themselves overall, especially considering they'd never been on anything close to such a long trip before. But on the sixth day, he could feel them beginning to grow antsy. His pride was no lessened though, knowing every child had their limits.
"Where'd you say we're stoppin' 'fore we go to Cally-fornia?" Isaac whined a bit.
"California," his mother said as she passed them each a couple pieces of dried fruit. "And we're stoppin' for a couple days at a real special place called Saint Denis," she smiled.
"Oh, it's special, all right," Arthur mumbled with a deep smirk.
Eliza glanced into his eyes over the children's heads.
"We're almost there, actually. Couple more hours, thereabouts," he said.
Both children sat up straight. "Really?"
"Yeah," he chuckled. "Made pretty good time. You two did a real good job."
"You think they'll have ice cream?" Isaac asked excitedly.
"They got somethin' I think you'll like just as much," he said, then let his gaze slide over to them with a grin. "Beignets…"
"Huh?" they both cocked their heads, causing him to laugh.
"Hard to explain. You'll like it, just trust me."
When they finally slowly pulled into the city, Arthur grinned as he watched all three sets of eyes plaster wide, their gazes darting to and fro at the sights around them. Eliza especially was on the edge of her seat, pointing things out and smiling wide. The sound of the cobblestone street beneath their horses' hooves, the distant melody of the trumpet player in the park, the fine lace-like edging that bordered nearly every balcony, the very modern trolley system, the foreign origins of nearly every shop name, words like aperitif, dim sum, bourguignon, and chocolatiers. She was excited by all of it.
He stopped at a hotel, hopped down, paid their way for a couple nights, and hopped back up into the seat, taking the wagon and horses to the stables and paying to lodge them there.
Feeling the bubbling excitement of his family, he took Eliza's hand in his and whisked the three of them off to get a bite to eat in the heart of the finest part of the city.
They were welcomed and seated at the fancy cast iron outdoor table, and large menus were placed before them.
"Nah, nah," Arthur patted the air to have them lay their menus back down. "I got this. I know just what you'll all like. For the kiddos…" he eyed the two of them where they sat, "fried alligator," he said to the waiter without shifting his gaze from them, his eyes pulsing wide as he spoke to garner their excitement. And he grinned in victory when they gasped and smiled at each other. "It's like those little bits a' fried chicken Mama makes you."
"And for the lovely misses?" the waiter inquired.
Arthur squinted at her, slouching back in his seat across from her. "Jambalaya."
She tilted her head just a bit at the sound of the word.
"It's hot. As in, spice hot," he smiled, sitting up.
"Oo, yum."
"You'll love it."
He ordered a steak and a lager for himself. And when the food arrived, hot and steaming, he reveled in the fact that there was nothing but the sounds of munching, smacking, and gratification all around.
Eliza cleaned her bowl and considered asking for a second; but she was much too excited at the prospect of strolling about the city together. So in a couple minutes' time, they'd paid the bill and were doing just that.
She watched the people pass to her left and right—men in top hats and bowlers with clean, brightly colored silken vests; women in soft, fine gowns with dainty lace and frills, feathered fascinators and parasols. It was pomp like she'd never seen.
As they passed a glistening shop window, she paused and noticed all of their reflections in the glass as Arthur stopped short beside her. Herself in a simple white and pale blue striped blouse, gathered at the bust with a high collar—her most fashion forward outfit for the occasion; a belt and a plain country bumpkin skirt lifted off the ground a few inches for practicality's sake, but still trimmed in a water-logged ring of dust and dirt along the bottom; her heeled lace-up boots caked in mud and grime beneath it. Trailed like a mother duck by two golden-haired little ducklings, hand-in-hand. And there was Arthur, her striking young husband, nothing short of a sight to see in his gorgeous black cowboy hat, black neckerchief, leather vest, gun belt, steel-toed boots, and shining spurs.
"We stick out like sore thumbs, Arthur," she chuckled and smiled at him, to signal she wouldn't have it any other way.
He looked from her face to their reflections, and back at her with a smile.
"We'll keep to this part of town, if we can help it," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
"Well, there's…certain parts…ain't so nice. They can get…seedy."
That evening Arthur took them to the nearby theater for a picture show. They marveled in awe at the gaudy, opulent lights above the entryway. The display announced a short film of Annie Oakley doing what she did best.
He paid for multiple bags of popcorn, knowing the children would woof them down when they tasted the mounds of butter, something they only had a bit of to drizzle on their popping corn at home.
They walked through the theater doors just as the accompanying ragtime began to play.
"Cherry River Rag," Ed Haley
you tu . be /tsTYZgB37R8
And as they sat in their fine velvet seats in the darkness of the theater, Arthur couldn't help but grin at the sound of all three of them ooh-ing and ah-ing.
He turned and looked past Eliza to see their children's little awestruck faces: the reflections of the motion picture in their little eyes that they couldn't peel away from the screen, as they shoveled handfuls of popcorn into their mouths. He grinned and glanced at Eliza to see a similar awestruck look; but she was too wholly distracted by the magnificence of the playing images, the excitement of the accompanying quickstep rag music, to even care about popcorn.
"Dat was the most amazeen thing I ever saw!" Hope guffawed when they all walked out of the theater together.
"I never knew there were those!" Isaac said, taking slow steps with a dazed expression.
"You been keepin' picture shows from us!" Eliza smiled, coming close to Arthur and nudging him in the chest with the side of her arm.
He grinned and looked down at his boots. "What was the point? Weren't no way of explainin' it or takin' you to see one 'til now."
He took her hand in his, and they strolled through the town streets, the lamplights creating a misty glow from their perches. When they arrived at a little café, he took them inside, and when they came out, they were licking soft white sugar off their fingers and thumbs.
"What you think?" he asked with a grin.
"Oh my goodness gracious. It's sooo good!" Hope said with wide eyes.
"Can you imagine—beignets and ice cream together?!" Isaac said with a bright smile.
Arthur wheezed. "Remind me to keep an eye on 'at sweet tooth a' yours."
"Sure, you can keep an eye on it," Eliza smiled. But she couldn't say the rest without snorting: "Keep an eye an' watch right as he eats every beignet in the city."
He slowly wagged his head with a laugh as they all linked hands again, walking back to the hotel and up the stairs to their room.
Eliza stood at the vanity unbuttoning her striped shirt before the mirror. "I know it's my most modern blouse, but…I don't think I'll where this again tomorrow. It chokes me somethin' awful."
"So don't," Arthur said as he came up behind her, pressing a kiss to her neck and working his way down to her shoulder as the fabric came away. "Where one a' your pretty dresses. I like to see your collarbone," he grinned, leaving another kiss there as she smiled. "'Sides. You can show this off," he brought his finger up to the sapphire necklace, exposed now that she'd unbuttoned her bodice.
"Blech! They're gettin' googly an' kissy again!" Isaac whined.
Eliza could feel the warm breath from Arthur's nostrils against her skin as he huffed a little laugh.
"There it is. Six years old. Finally hit the point where he don't like to see it," he mumbled.
"Well, I like it when they kiss!" Hope chimed in. "They're supposed to! Means they're happy!"
Pulling her nightgown over her and slipping her clothes off underneath, Eliza turned to them with a glowing smirk. "We've had a long, full, adventurous day. Time for bed. Both of you, jammies on now."
When the pair were tucked into their twin bed off against the opposite wall of the room, Arthur and Eliza doused the candles and climbed into the queen bed. But it wasn't long before the sound of Eliza's soft giggling and whispers began to arise.
"Stop it! No, don't! Arthur!" she whispered, interspersed with quiet laughter.
"It's the first time we been in an actual bed in a week!" he whispered back. "Come on, baby. Just let me kiss you."
"Arthur, stop! No, we can't! They're right there!" Each time her giggling would die down, a few moments later it would start back up again, only louder.
Isaac grumbled. "Quit tickling!"
"Yeah, I'm tryin'a dream about ponies!" Hope chimed in.
A chortled laugh immediately erupted from Eliza's lips, transforming into another rolling giggle.
Isaac finally sat up. "If you don't stop tickling, I'munna come over there an' hit you with the pillow!"
Eliza's twinkling eyes flashed to Arthur's beside her, and she wore a bright, mischievous grin beneath them.
"Oh no. Don't do it," Arthur's brows came together pleadingly as he looked into her eyes and whispered, knowing exactly what was in her head. "Please don't."
As her grin widened, she sat straight up, her blonde waves dangling about her face. "Well get over here then!"
Isaac's gaze connected with hers, and he ever so slowly smiled as he took her meaning. And in the space of a moment, he grabbed his pillow, ran over, and bounced onto their bed, Hope following closely behind him.
Winding their arms back, they repeatedly brought them down as hard as they could. Their mother lied back and shielded herself with her own pillow. Amid the sound of their laughter, Arthur looked into her eyes with a soft smirk, and she bit her lip with a bright, knowing, near apologetic smile.
He grunted and pulled himself up to a sitting position. "All right, who's gettin' pounded tonight?"
"Not me! Not me!" rang their melodious giggles.
Their parents laughed and playfully hit them back between incoming swats. Their tinkling cackles filled the air as they all disappeared into a cloud of flying pillows.
When the tickles and pillow fights finally died down, the children gradually faltered and finally slumped like lead weights in their parents' bed.
When they were both asleep, Arthur watched his wife brush Isaac's short hair back with the flat of her hand and kiss his forehead, then close her eyes and rest her cheek against his temple as he slept. When she opened them again, their eyes met, and he knew what she was feeling. That they were both somehow grateful to have been given new eyes. To seize each moment and cherish it.
The next day after breakfast, they began to stroll about the city together, and Arthur paused.
"How you feel about takin' the kids for a bit? There were some things I wanted to look at…"
"Oh, that's fine. I had a bit of shoppin' I wanted to do anyways," she nodded.
"All right. Got your gun?" he asked quietly.
"Mm-hm," she mumbled, opening her handbag to show the little pistol he'd gotten her.
"Good." Shifting his gaze to the children, he bent at the waist, rested his hands on his knees, and looked them both in the eyes one at a time. "It's very important you both behave yourselves. Understand me? You listen to your mother. If I hear you disobeyed just one time, I'll be very disappointed in you."
"Yes, Papa," they both nodded gravely.
Satisfied, he straightened and kissed Eliza on the cheek. "Meet you right back here in a couple hours?"
She smiled and nodded, and they parted ways.
Arthur looked back and watched them round the corner.
"Always hold hands, babies. And Isaac, you hold mine. Never let go. Like little ducklings following the mama, remember?" he could hear her say, and he smiled.
He walked down a few streets until he found what he was looking for—a fancy wine and spirits shop. La Meilleure Saveur.
As he stepped through the door, he saw walls and shelves covered with bottles of imported wine, gin, rum, whiskey, and more that he'd never have enough time to browse. There were even some fancier bottles hanging from the ceiling. And the sales counter displayed a few different cutting boards littered with fine cheeses and charcuterie.
He stepped closer to a nearby wall to peruse the wine, and though he had no idea the differences between the funny sounding pinot noir, petite syrah, and zindfandel, he determined to look them over to try to find the best one. He stood there a few minutes, ducking his head and peering this way and that at them, when he heard,
"You're in love with her. Oui?"
He turned to see an obviously French gentleman with thin, upturned black mustaches standing at the counter, smiling at him.
The only response he received was a burgeoning grin across Arthur's mouth from underneath the brim of his hat as he took a few steps closer.
"Ohh, tell me about her," the man said dreamily in his thick French accent as he rested his elbows on the counter and his chin on the heels of his hands. "Is she very dulcet? Very charming and lovely? A lamb?"
Arthur's grin widened a little as he brought his hand to rest on the countertop and grew pensive for a moment. "Only woman ever got me to step foot in a church. Probably the only person who ever could."
"You'd do anything for her," he smiled as he straightened. "And what are you doing here? In the big city, monsieur cowboy?"
"Well, she wanted to stop here. We're makin' our way to the coast. West coast, that is. With a couple kiddos."
"Ah. The products of your love, oui? How very romantic."
He tilted his head and chuckled a bit. "Don't always feel quite like that, you know? Raisin' little ones. Once all this is over, we'll finally get a night to ourselves. I just want it to be real nice."
The man nodded. "Well. Only La Meilleure! But you can't tell the best wine from looking at the bottles, you know this? No, no, no. You must taste. But first, tell me what you plan to eat."
"Eat?"
"Oui! You must pair it with something! What does the jeune femme like to eat best?"
"Well…her favorite things are pickled or spicy."
"Oh!" He lifted a hand. "A woman of very sophisticated palette."
"Really?" Arthur nearly squeaked with a cocked brow as the man bent for something behind the counter.
"Oui, oui! Do not doubt her. Here," he said, placing a jar of something swimming in brine before him. "Hot pickled okra. A delicacy, and a great aphrodisiac."
"Aphro-what?"
He tisked his tongue. "Sensualité." When still no sign of understanding registered in Arthur's expression, he brought his palm to the side of his cheek and shook his head just a little. "Oh, la, la." He faced him squarely, snapped twice, then spoke firmly. "Desire. Arousal."
Before the second word, Arthur had begun nodding and patting the air. "I get it." He looked down at the jar, eyeing the little pointed pickled vegetables. "All that from a little pickle?"
"Oui, monsieur. It is no magic bullet, but chemistry and biology are both sciences, are they not?" He paused, this time not waiting for recognition. "Chemistry," he began, gesturing as he looked for the English words. "The science of properties interacting—"
"I know what chemistry and biology are," Arthur grumbled low. "Read whole biology books to prepare for my little girl's delivery."
The man shrugged. "I'm only here to help. Will you be taking the okra, then?"
Arthur gave his head a tilt. "I don't figure we'll need it, but…sure. I'll take a jar."
"Wonderful. And if that's the case, I have just the bottle." He went to the back wall covered in bottles, danced his fingers in the air a bit, and finally retrieved a specific one, bringing it to the counter.
"Negrette," he said. "The 1888 vintage—a personal favorite." He carefully set the bottle before him, keeping it tilted at an angle so the artful and intricate label was in view. "This wine was made from grapes only found in the southwest region of France, out of the whole world." He quickly waved a hand to emphasize the last couple words. "Well—I hear some fools in California have got their hands on some Negrette grapes and are trying to recreate it. We'll see. People try desperately to copy it, because only that special grape can produce this wine."
"California, you said?"
"Oui."
A grin slowly grew on Arthur's mouth. "I'll take it."
"Without tasting?"
"I'll take your word. How much you want for it?"
He flipped the bottle over to show the price on the back.
Before his younger self saw it, Arthur took a look. "Ha! This guy's playin' you. Like a fiddle."
His younger self went bug-eyed. "You can't be serious."
The little French man began to go into a frenzy. "If you are to experience this wine, you must understand its rarity, its value! Its exceptional quality, its—"
"Forget it," Arthur rolled his eyes, speaking over him. "I'll walk over to Draft Horse Brewery, get her a lager. She likes beer better anyway…" And he headed for the door. But he hadn't reached it when he heard,
"Wait!"
and he grinned wryly to himself.
"F-for you, monsieur cowboy, today only, I can do…half price."
Arthur turned and walked back to the counter. "S'more like it." He slapped a handful of bills on the counter as the man gingerly placed the wine and pickled okra jar in a paper bag and handed it to him. "Obliged," he brought his thumb and first finger to the brim of his hat and turned again for the door.
"You do love her," he heard and paused. "Obsessed, rather. You worship her."
Turning only his face to the side, a smirk caught the corner of his mouth before he continued out the door.
Meanwhile, on a different street, Eliza led the children on their little walking chain to a shop she'd caught a glimpse of from the wagon seat: Madame Josephine's Boutique for Ladies.
Pausing before the elegant clothing displays in the large street-facing windows of the shop, she finally took a breath and entered.
"Wow, Mama! Look at all the pretty dresses!" Hope gasped, gazing about the shop.
"They're lovely, aren't they?" Eliza said quietly. Noticing her reaching out for a satin skirt, she quickly took her hand. "Don't touch anything, okay? We don't wanna soil it. Then we'll all really be in trouble," she connected eyes with both of them.
Noting her expression and remembering their father's words, they both folded their hands.
Eliza turned back to the nearby displays and began to quietly peruse the clothing. Amongst the ribbons of delicate lace, the swaths of shining satin, and the dangling chains of fine gold jewelry, she almost felt too inadequate to breathe. But then she remembered—her mother had left her lace doilies more delicate than these; her satin wedding gown had been handed down through generations; and not only was her diamond-adorned wedding ring still shining on her finger, but not two weeks ago Arthur had gifted her with a sizable sapphire floating on a fine gold chain. And she perked up, realizing she had no reason to feel lesser, and had no need of anything besides what she'd come for.
Just as she'd begun smirking at her own thoughts, she heard a quiet voice behind her.
"Bienvenue, madame," the voice said in a lilting French accent. "I like your chignon."
She turned to see a little woman with auburn hair done up in a curled coif. "Chignon?"
"Oui," she smiled, gesturing to her tousled bun. "The French call this a chignon."
"Oh," she let out an airy chuckle.
"And you have with you two little anges!" she said with a soft smile as she looked down at the children by her side. "You are being so very good, and letting mommy shop, are you?"
They both slowly nodded with pursed smiles and inquisitive gleams in their eyes; Eliza knew it was because of her thick accent.
"How may I be of assistance today?" the woman asked as she looked up at her, rocking on the balls of her feet and sweetly folding her hands behind her.
"Oh, um, I've just been…lookin' around."
"But not seeing anything to suit you?"
"Not…not quite."
"Is there something in particular you are looking for?"
"Oh, no. Well! I-it's just that I, uh…" Eliza looked up at the ceiling and swallowed as she struggled to suppress her blush, knowing it was wholly and completely silly and unnecessary. But she'd never spoken about such things with anyone besides Arthur. She finally stepped closer to her and bit her lip, going into a whisper. "You see, I'm…married, and, uh…"
"Ah," the woman lifted her chin with a subtle grin. "Not to worry, say no more. This way." She turned and gestured with her fingers for her to follow. "Are you from a very long way away, madame?"
"Oui," Eliza said, swiping some stray hair from her eyes as she followed with the children to another set of rooms in the back. "Don't need to tell me how you knew."
"You have a sweetness about you, is all," she said without turning. "The kind that simply does not grow here. You must be from very far away indeed. He is lucky to have found you, out of all the world."
"Oh," Eliza began to smile, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Thank you."
"Does he know it?" she said as she stopped in a little corridor and turned to her.
A bit flustered by the question, Eliza looked away, scrunched her nose, and stammered unintelligibly.
"Please forgive me! Me and my nosey nose again."
Eliza finally managed to look back at her. "He's the best husband and father to my children I could ever ask for. And I love him, more than words could ever say. I just like to make sure he knows it. Make sure he feels it."
Pondering for a moment, the woman nodded. "Oui. I can help you do just that. Come. The children can sit on the bench there," she gestured to a little bench at the end of the corridor with a red velvet covered seat cushion as she stepped through a doorway sectioned off by a satin curtain.
Eliza instructed them to sit on the bench together and behave, but she fully intended to remain near enough to the doorway that she could poke her head through to check on them or even straddle the threshold if they got a little too rowdy.
As she entered the new room, she saw displays draped in lace negligees, silken hosiery, and more risqué pieces towards the back that piqued her curiosity.
"Our hosiery and lingerie boutique. I try to keep it always stocked with the newest fashions from Paris," the woman said as she walked up with something in a box.
When she was finally standing before her with the lid of the box opened to her, Eliza saw it was a lace nightgown. Her suspicions about it were confirmed when she touched it. "Too scratchy," she shook her head.
"Ah, you are a woman in need of style and comfort?"
"I guess so," she chuckled.
"I enjoy a challenge," the woman smiled as she walked away.
Eliza took the opportunity to pop her head through the curtain and saw the children swinging their dangling feet where they sat on the bench and singing to themselves.
"Does this interest you?"
When the woman returned, Eliza ducked back through the curtain. She looked down at the ensemble in the box and immediately almost snorted. "Arthur might laugh at me if I wore that. I might laugh at me."
"I see. Fashion, comfort, and a touch of sensibility is needed here."
"Ho-oope! Stop it!" Eliza heard from behind her in a grumbled, distressed tone.
"I'm so sorry, just one moment," she held up a finger.
"Feminine, alluring, but just a little bit demure?" the woman said to herself, looking up at the ceiling and tapping her chin.
Poking her head back through the curtain and looking down at the bench, Eliza didn't have time to notice what Hope was doing or bother to ask. Isaac's brows were knitted together, and his bottom lip pursed. "Hope, your brother asked you to stop."
Hope sat still and folded her hands in her lap, tucking her little chin. "Yes, Mama."
Satisfied, Eliza drew back through the curtain. "Sorry."
"Not to worry. I believe I have just the thing," she said with a bounce, turning on the ball of her foot.
While she was gone, Eliza heard laughter and quietly poked her head through the curtain to see both children giggling and having a high ol' time together. She smiled to herself as she drew back through the curtain once more.
Straightening, she saw the shopkeeper coming towards her with something draped across both arms.
"For you," she said with a smile as she stood before her. "Not quite available to my patrons yet, but I make an exception."
Gazing down, Eliza reached out and touched it. "Oh, it's lovely," she breathed. She watched as the woman took it by the straps and held it up so she could get a look at the whole. "It's perfect."
"Oui?"
"Oui," she smiled.
The woman matched her smile. "Monsieur won't be able to take himself off you. You'll be his little sucette. Um, you call it…" she said, looking up to find the right word, "lollipop."
Beginning to feel her face flush warm, Eliza brought a palm to her cheek. But it was true, she couldn't take her eyes away from it.
"I shall take your measurements, get you the correct size, and box it up for you."
"Thank you."
Before she knew it, Eliza was hurriedly walking hand-in-hand with the children, with the box under one arm, back towards the hotel.
"Why're we going to the hotel again? It's not night yet," Hope said.
"Because Daddy wanted us to meet him at the lamp post."
"Yeah, so why aren't we going there?"
"Oh—" Eliza laughed at herself. "Because I need to put this in the room before we meet back up with Daddy."
At the same time Arthur was coming towards the hotel from the opposite direction. He ran up the stairs, stuffed the paper bag in his luggage, and was back out walking towards their meet-up spot before Eliza and the children ever arrived. And when they got there, Eliza did the same, hiding her box inside her carpet bag before leaving with the children to meet him.
Arthur smiled when they all three approached. "Hey, there they are!" He opened his arms up wide as both children ran up to hug him, Hope's blonde curls catching the city sunlight as she held up her outstretched arms for him. And he hugged them both, scooping Hope up onto his hip.
"Daddy! Gimme kiss!" Hope said.
"Hold on, I gotta give Mama a kiss first. Before anyone." He leaned close and pressed his lips to Eliza's.
"Did we keep you waitin' long?" she asked.
"Nah. Just got here a couple minutes ago. Did my kids behave themselves, like they were told?"
She squinted and peered down at them with a pursed, wry grin.
"Yeeaahh!"
"Yeah, we did!" they panicked. Hope was especially concerned, looking at her mother with a twist to her brows from her place on her father's hip, knowing if anyone was about to get in trouble, it was her. "Every time, we listened!" she nodded hastily.
Eliza's closed grin widened across her face, and she nodded.
Both their faces relaxed into smiles at the sight.
"Aw, she was doin' a funny joke! We listened real good!"
"Yeah, we did! Can we go to the special café?" they asked.
"Special café?" Arthur acted none-the-wiser. "Why, for the life a' me I can't tell what you mean."
"Beignets!"
"All right, all right!" he laughed, looking down at Isaac. He brought his big hand around the back of his head and brought his fingers down to lightly pinch his soft little ear lobe. "'D you have fun, buddy?"
Isaac scrunched his nose. "Mm…we just went to a ladies'—"
"Ladies' tea room!" Eliza hurried to speak over him, her eyes wide as she looked up at Arthur. She smiled and chuckled. "Wanted to see what all the fuss was about. They let Isaac in 'cause he's a minor."
"All right. And…?" he said, his voice sliding high. "'D you like it?"
With a tense smile, she nodded quickly.
"Good." He looked at Isaac and Hope, and bounced Hope once on his arm. "We ready for beignets? I know a shortcut."
"Yeah!" they shouted.
As Arthur turned and set Hope down to walk beside him, Eliza let him go a few steps ahead and held Isaac back. "You didn't have fun with Mama?" she nearly whined in a whisper.
"Yeah, I liked the walking around part. But why'd you tell Daddy a lie?" he whispered.
She clucked her tongue. "It's 'cause I got him a special surprise. Ain't a lie if it's for a special surprise."
"Ohh-hh-hhh," he nodded.
Arthur took them down a side street and began to pick up the pace a bit. But when a beggar sitting in the gutter called out for coins, he paused and dug into his pocket.
"Here," he said, tossing the quarter into his hat with his other hand still holding Hope's. "Go get yourself somethin' to eat, all right?"
The beggar immediately grabbed his wrist and put a health tonic bottle in his hand. "For your kindness. It's nice to give, 'stead of just beggin'."
"Well, thank you, friend," Arthur smiled.
From the shadows several yards away someone had seen the whole interaction, and whispered under his breath, "This sucker's perfect," before walking over.
As the little family continued on their way, a lone boy of no older than fourteen appeared before Arthur. "Mister, could you spare a coin, some food? Anything?" he whined as he held out a filthy hand. "My ma's real sick, you see, and…there's just me, to make sure she gets right. And…well, anything would help."
Eliza stepped forward holding Isaac's hand and brought her other hand to her husband's forearm. "Arthur, give him that thing you just got from the other feller. That oughta do wonders if his mother's sick, poor thing."
Once he'd caught a glimpse of Eliza though, the boy didn't hear another thing that'd been said. His eyes began bugging out of his head, his jaw hung loose, and his tongue nearly lagged onto the ground. Arthur was busy going into his satchel for the tonic while the boy's dazed eyes dragged up and down her form. He watched her lean in over Arthur's arm to make sure he found the tonic. He was only just shaken out of it when his attention snagged on the sapphire glinting in the sun, dangling before her chest just under her clavicle, framed nicely by the neckline of her sweet country dress.
"Here. You got perfect timin' kid. This oughta help," Arthur said, placing the health tonic in his hand.
As soon as he realized what it was, the boy rolled his eyes. In the space of a moment and with one slippery motion, he reached out, grabbed the sapphire, tore the necklace from Eliza's neck, and ran off like lightning.
"Hey! You little shit! Get back here!" Arthur's thunder immediately followed the lightning, and he tore off after him.
The three members of his little family stood dumbfounded and unharmed in the wake of a little thunderstorm on a clear and sunny day.
Eliza sighed and looked down a the children with a smirk. "Off we go after 'em, I guess."
"We ain't runnin' like that, are we?" Isaac asked.
"No. We ain't runnin'."
Meanwhile Arthur was dodging arches and hopping fences, skidding around corners and jumping across balconies to follow the kid.
When the boy thought he'd finally lost him, he slowed and rounded a corner into a little walled alcove where a group of several other boys were sitting around. But Arthur hung back behind the corner a moment.
"H-hey, it's Tim-bo!"
"Timmyy! Whatchya buttery fingers got for us today?" the other boys called as he huffed and tried to catch his breath.
"I just…saw…" he swallowed and gripped the edge of a table to steady himself, "the most heart-shatterin', jaw-droppin', earth-shakin' beauty of an angel I ever saw I my whole adult life."
They all immediately began to grumble and whine, rolling their eyes and waving him off.
"Hand to God! Honest!" he started to say over their clamor.
"Ah, Timmy!" an older boy shouted. "If it ain't one dumb broad today, it's another tomorrow with you! And you get your eyes buggin' an' your trousers in a twist over any ugly broad in a skirt."
"This time it was a real angel! Was no broad! I swear to gentle Christ! And if you saw her yourself, you'd think twice 'fore talkin' about her like that!"
"Save it. Let's see whatcha got today."
Arthur immediately stepped around the corner. "He's got my wife's goods."
"Your wife's goods?" the older boy said.
"'At's right." He looked at Timmy, his gaze fixed and steely. "Cough it up, boy."
Timmy stood gazing up at him and swallowed. When he spoke, he started out quiet, but grew in boldness. "Your wife's goods make ya sing, I bet, and they're too goddamn good for you."
"Watch your mouth," Arthur snapped, his tone dipping deep, warning of dangerous territory.
"Hey, hey, hey," the older boy sauntered forward. "Ain't no reason we can't handle this with justice an' all, like proper gents." He took hold of a simple rope cinched around the waist of his breeches as if it were a belt. "Now Timmy here says he came 'cross the goods fair an' square." He peered up at Arthur, tipping his chin audaciously. "Let's hear your case, cowpoke?"
It was then that Eliza and the children finally made it to the opposite side of the corner, and she overheard them.
"You got no idea—just no idea—how long it took me to save up for that jewel," Arthur said, his voice huffed and gravelly. "It stands for…some stuff…between me an' her," he mumbled sheepishly. "All right? And you know what, that ain't even the point. Point is, it's hers, it ain't yours. Now cough it up, I said."
"Make me," Timmy said with an impudent tone.
When an uproar began to break out, Eliza took the opportunity to step from around the corner with the children.
"I can make you give me my necklace back," she said.
A hush immediately followed, falling over every boy as they gazed at her. And suddenly they were humming and hawing, their mumbles rising in volume until they were full-on whooping and howling.
"Timmy! You shoulda told us!" they hollered.
"I did tell you! I did!" he tried to shout over them. "I did, didn't I?"
Before Eliza knew it, they were elbowing and pushing each other, nearly stumbling over each other to stand before her and get a look at her.
"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes!"
"Give us a kiss, Mama!"
"Be good to a scallywag!" they were calling out.
"Back the little shits up off her!" Arthur pointed, his brows crimped in disgust.
"Hey, hey! Don't get fresh," his younger self said, holding up two hands and flicking his fingers. "Juuust back yourselves up there, shrimps."
But Timmy forced his way to the front of the commotion and looked up at her. "Oh, come on, baby. My heart's just a-burstin' for ya." He dramatically brought both hands over his chest. "I ain't all boy. I ain't, really. I got some whiskers on my chin. Look, see!" He jutted his chin out and looked down for a moment before looking back up at her. "Come on, baby. I'm just waitin'. Just waitin' on ya to make a full man outta me."
A smirk broadened across Eliza's face as she looked down at him. She bent at the waist and squinted as she brought her face close to his, looking him in the eyes. "You're nearly a big, strong man, huh?" she said low and slow.
"Whoa, whoa, hey…" Arthur said quietly.
Timmy nodded vigorously with a wide grin, his tongue bobbing like a dog's where it hung out of his head.
After another couple moments, Eliza straightened, the same smirk still on her face. She turned to Arthur and promptly took him by the lapels of his vest, yanking him into a deep, passionate kiss.
The boys immediately groaned and grumbled, tossing their heads back and throwing their arms up in defeat and exasperation.
Eliza brought her hand up and wove her fingers through Arthur's locks, making sure the smacking sounds of their lips and tongues were nice and boisterous. She kissed him good and deep and hard until they were both breathless, and lingered there a few moments more.
When she finally drew away, Arthur blinked feverishly and blew out a huff of pure air that ended in him clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck.
Timmy was looking down at the cobblestones in the ground, his shoulders slumped forlornly. But he finally reached into his pocket and produced the sapphire necklace, holding it out to her. "Here," he said.
"What! Timmy!" the other boys whined.
"It's hers. It ain't mine. And she's somebody else's too," he said. "Ain't right to steal from angels, fellas."
"Thank you," she smiled as she took it and returned it to her neck. She began to turn, but paused and looked back at him. "D…do you really have a sick mama?"
He grinned softly and shook his head. "No, ma'am. No mama at all."
Her eyes sagged, and she looked over at Arthur before going into her handbag and offering the boy a few bills. "Ain't a perfect world. But there're still good people in it. A lot of couples who can't have children. They wanna be good to you. Keep you warm and fed, and be your mama and papa. Every day you're away from an orphanage, they can't find you." She smiled as he took the cash. "Go get a bath and some real food, and try to let 'em find you."
As she turned and took the children's hands, walking away with a smile at Arthur, the rest of the boys whined and moaned low.
"A real angel…"
"I'll say."
"Lucky son of a bitch…"
Arthur turned and smirked at them. "Take care a' yourselves, boys."
He caught up to his family, and the four of them went to enjoy one last beignet on their last day in the city.
Afterwards, Hope grew too tired to walk, and Arthur scooped her up, holding her to his chest with both forearms under her bottom so her legs dangled. With her face turned away from his neck, she rested her cheek on his shoulder and promptly fell asleep, her lips squishing unnaturally.
As they walked through the city back to the hotel, the setting sun began to shine through the streets, and she stirred and turned onto her other cheek so she was facing him. He brought his hand over the side of her temple and cheek to shield her face from the sun, scrunching his chin down to look at her. He was glad when he saw she was still fast asleep.
The next morning the four of them were off in the covered wagon, their sights set all the way on the far west coast.
They fell into their usual rhythm of breaking twice a day and stopping to make camp at night. But as expected, their fresh food was beginning to run low. So each evening before sunset Arthur would hunt for supper and food for the next day.
When they reached a town called Blackwater and made their way through the dusty valley to another called Tumbleweed, Isaac looked up at his father beside him with scrunched brows as the rugged earth jostled them in the seat.
"I don't like this place, Papa," he said.
"I know. Me neither."
"It's too hot and dry and dusty. I miss the mountains."
"Yeah, and the green fields and trees and flowers and creeks," Hope said.
"And the birds singing and the butterflies floating by…" Eliza began to daydream with a smile. "Our little garden."
"They got all that in California," Arthur said.
"Yeah, but I miss Misty Willow," Isaac said.
Arthur sighed. "We didn't belong there anymore."
"Well…where do we belong?"
"That's what we're doin' out here. Findin' where we belong."
"But where's that?"
"Together," Eliza chimed in again. "Where we belong is together. That's all."
The children would frequently go into the wagon bed to try to occupy themselves. Sometimes Eliza would join them to keep them entertained; other times she'd remain beside Arthur in the seat. One afternoon Arthur could hear her say from the back, "You better go show Daddy."
Isaac climbed up into the seat and looked up at his father with a smile.
"Look, Daddy, look! I got a wiggly tooth that's so wiggly!"
"Is it wiggly?" Arthur chuckled as he stole glances away from the road at him.
"Yeah, look!" Keeping his teeth together, Isaac pushed with his tongue until one of his little bottom teeth leaned forward. He quickly let it fall back in line with the others and pushed it again and again, as if it were on a hinge. "It's kinda like a door, look." He showed him the same maneuver and paused, singing, "Wee-woo, wee-woo."
While he did it one more time, Arthur looked down at him and sang for him, "Wee-woo, wee-woo."
Isaac cackled and laughed.
"That door's too loud, son. Need some oil on it," Arthur smirked as he looked back at the road and gently pushed his blonde head away playfully. He grinned wider at the sound of Isaac's laugh as he loosely held the reins. "Want me to yank it out for ya?"
Isaac gasped and brought his hand up to his mouth as his smile promptly fell away. "No! Why? Why would you do that?"
"So the big boy tooth grows there quicker!"
"Arthur," Eliza said from the wagon bed.
He let his head sag back and struggled to hold down a wheeze at the sound. As Isaac climbed back into the wagon bed, he called, "Just let me know when you change your mind and want me to yank it out for ya! I'll do it anytime, I know tricks! It'll be so fast, it won't hurt a bit!"
Arthur scoffed a laugh at his younger self's words. "Tricks to get a loose tooth out… Been a hot minute since I've thought of anything like that…"
Later that afternoon, Eliza rejoined Arthur in the wagon seat. And that evening as the horizon grew hazy and dim, the hubbub of laughter from the back slowly waned and quieted. Finally Hope ducked and climbed up from the wagon bed, stepping into the seat with her little brown lace-up boots.
From the corner of his eyes, Arthur watched Eliza lift her arms and look down as Hope climbed into her lap without a word, closing her eyes and nuzzling her cheek back and forth across her breast until she was settled there comfortably.
Arthur grinned to himself and looked forward. "Smart kid." He glanced over again in time to catch Eliza looking up at him with a smile.
She reached back and pulled up the burlap to see Isaac sleeping on a pillow. "We should make camp and eat. They're gettin' weary."
They stopped and did just that. And the next morning, they were right back on the road again.
"Your hair's gettin' long, Daddy," Isaac said.
"Yeah? Mama likes it."
"You do, Mama?"
"Oh, yes," she smiled, reaching out a hand and running her fingers through his tawny locks, nearly golden when he applied a touch of pomade. "I like your papa every way."
And a few seconds later, Isaac whined, "When're we gonna be there?"
"Hey! Let's sing a song!" Eliza chirped. She took Hope's hand and bounced it back and forth from her own lap to Hope's lap as if to a beat. "How about, 'Keep on the Sunnyside'?"
"Nah! Naahh!" both children moaned. "We've sung it five times!"
"What, I thought you liked that song!"
"Mama, if I have to sing that song one more time, just one more time," Isaac said quietly, holding up a little finger, "I'm gonna sing it like this: 'Kaayyp ahn the sunnayy siiide, ahlweeys ahn the sunnayy siide…" He'd rolled his eyes back into his head and mumbled loudly and nasally.
Hope giggled and clapped her hands over her mouth, and Arthur snorted a laugh.
Eliza half-smirked, trying to hide that she actually was amused. But she ended up biting her lip and ducking her head to chuckle anyway. "All right, what about…'Blue Side of the Mountain'?"
"Nah, we've sung that one three times!"
"It's better with a fiddle anyway," Isaac grumbled.
"Well, we don't have to sing. Why don't we talk about what we're thankful for?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know what thankful means! Tell me some things you're thankful for."
"Ummm…"
"Here, I'll go first," Eliza said. "I'm thankful for…a warm place to sleep, food to fill my belly. I'm thankful for horses, how beautiful they are, and all the ways they give of themselves to help us. I'm thankful for both my wonderful children, who I love with my whole heart, and who I know love me too," she smiled, looking down at them beside her and nudging Hope's arm with her own.
They both smiled brightly at her.
She looked up at Arthur, and her smile grew soft. "I'm thankful for my amazin' husband, the good man he is."
Keeping the reins in his hands, Arthur looked over at her just in time to see her look forward and take a deep breath.
"I'm thankful for…" she said as she breathed deeply, "the air all around us, and a body that can breathe it."
After a few quiet moments, Arthur suddenly piped up strongly, "I'm thankful for my family." Keeping his gaze on the road, he nodded with certainty. "My whole, beautiful, strong family. The way we look out for each other, stick by each other. Are…kind and understanding with each other." He swallowed and nodded once more. "Just grateful for my whole family, that you're all…here."
Another few moments, and Isaac said with a smile, "I get it! I'm thankful for Mama and Papa. And Hopie."
"Me too, me too!" Hope said. "Except Isaac, I mean," she smiled.
Isaac looked at his father. "But…when are we gonna get there?"
Eliza slumped in her seat with a loud groan. She tossed her head to the side and looked over at Arthur. "I tried, baby."
"I know," he mumbled.
"When're we gonna get to ride a train, Papa?" Isaac asked. "You promised me we'd get to ride a train."
Eliza's eyes grew wide as she stared down Arthur.
"I-I…what I said, was…" he stammered.
But Eliza's wide, silent eyes were trained on him.
"Kid was naggin' me about ridin' a train. He loves the idea. You know he does, always has. So, I promised him a short train ride only once we get where we're goin'."
A couple hours later the children had gone into the back, and Arthur was beginning to nod off in his seat. Eliza noticed his eyes drift and his head bob loosely, the reins going slack in his open hands. She reached over and tried to covertly take them from him, but he snapped awake and blinked his eyes open.
"Hun, why don't you take a little nap, huh? I can drive the horses a while."
"Nn…nah, 's fine," he smacked his lips, trying to straighten his back against the seat. "I'm fine."
"Arthur, you've been at this day in and day out like the rest of us. Only difference is we can lie down in the back. Just take a little doze, and you'll wake nice an' fresh. Don't you trust me?"
He looked over at her with bleary eyes. "All right, just keep it on this path. Should be good an' straight for another hour or so. Any funny business, you know what to do. Well, wake me, first of all."
He passed her the reins and slumped down in the seat, cocking his black hat over his eyes and folding his arms.
It was a couple hours when he woke to the sounds of Hope and Isaac whining yet again.
"But Mama…you can just stop the wagon so we can get down an' play for a little bit. Pleeaase?"
Arthur sat up straight and wiped at his eyes to see both of them looking up at her with plaintive expressions.
"What's this? Close my eyes for two seconds, and you're tryin'a break my rules?"
"It's been two hours, dearest."
He looked up at her where she sat holding the reins. "You let me sleep for two hours?"
"That's right. I let you sleep for two hours."
He sighed.
"Please, Papa! Let us get down for a little bit!"
"They're children, Arthur. They need to run around, stretch their legs."
He looked down at his side to see both kids looking up at him with big, round doe eyes.
He grumbled and brought a hand over his eyes. "I don't need the damn vaudeville stage performances every time." But beneath his hand, a subtle grin crept onto his mouth. "We stop now, it'd be pointless to get back on the road today. It'll be close enough to sunset by the time we get everybody back together an' ready."
"Look, there's a stream over that hill, near the tree line. Why don't we stop and make camp? After they run around a bit, I can bathe 'em while you hunt, and then we'll all eat supper."
"Sounds like a plan…" he mumbled, rubbing his forehead.
As soon as Eliza pulled the wagon to a stop, both children hopped down exuberantly. Arthur fed the horses while the three of them went around to the side of the wagon. She kept an eye on them while they played, even running around with them in the tall grass, tickling them each time she caught up. As they tried to get away, she'd suddenly wrap her arm around their midsection and turn with them still tucked there, so their arms and legs would fly into the air with the inertia from their running spree. And every single time, they'd laugh and cackle.
As Arthur took his varmint rifle into the trees to hunt rabbits, she took the bar of soap and walked the children to the stream near the trees to wash. She had them take turns while the other sat on the bank, back turned. By the time they were both finished and drying off with a towel, she heard Arthur clanking around with his cast iron skillet and building a fire. She sent them both running over to him, instructing them to tell him she'd be over in a few minutes.
The moment she was alone, Eliza sniffed under her arm and made a sour grimace. Taking the bar of soap, she stripped naked and crouched down into the stream herself to bathe. By the time she was walking back in her gown, towel drying her hair, Arthur had supper prepared and ready, and the three of them were sitting around the fire chatting and waiting for her.
After they ate supper, Arthur told them another buried treasure story as it grew dark, with the children hanging on his every word as usual.
"Hey, Papa. Where are we?" Isaac asked when he finished.
He took a moment to think. "Ain't completely sure, exactly. Western Nevada, maybe. Might be pretty close to California. But it's more northern California I'm wantin' to get to. Prettiest part, least accordin' to me. More mountains, less desert. More like home," he smiled to them, the orange light of the campfire playing across his face.
"Wait, so we're almost there?" Isaac asked, perking up.
"Eh…" he winced sourly. "'Almost' is a strong word… I mean, compared to how long we been goin', sure—"
Both children immediately hoorayed and clapped.
"Nah, nah, I meant not almost. Not really," he tried to say over their exclamations of relief and excitement. But they hadn't heard a word.
"And with that…" Eliza stood with a soft grin, "I think it's time for bed."
They climbed up into the wagon to the sizzling sound of Arthur dousing the fire. He sat on the edge of the wagon bed and let out a breath as he removed his boots one at a time before reclining back on his side with them and setting his hat on the flat of the wagon bed nearby. Eliza handed him the edges of the blankets, and he pulled them over the children and himself.
As the kids fell asleep on their pillows between them, Arthur gazed over them through the pale moonlight into his wife's shimmering eyes.
There she was, lying close yet much too far away.
Without a word, he reached out and took her hand that was resting above the children's heads. Pulling it close, he pressed his lips into her palm, once, twice. And smiling, she brought her fingers up and brushed them through his hair.
"Morgan!" they heard at that instant from somewhere outside the burlap of the covered wagon. "I know 'at's you, Morgan."
Unable to recognize the male voice, Arthur's eyes grew wide nonetheless.
"Been tailin' ya since Tumbleweed. Waitin' for my chance to strike."
Even with the distance and with their children between them, Arthur could feel Eliza go tense and rigidly still.
"You're a hard man to track down. Yes, you are. But I know 'at's you."
Keeping their gazes locked, they felt the children begin to rustle and stir just slightly. And Arthur broke her gaze for the briefest moment to glance at a nearby board in the flat of the wagon bed before looking back into her eyes. And she nodded almost imperceptibly.
"An' I know you got a woman an' babies with ya too."
"'Nough a' this," Arthur said under his breath, sitting up and scooting towards the edge of the wagon.
"So should I fill it with holes, or light 'er up? Or are ya gonna come on out here?" he said before he saw Arthur hop down.
And as Arthur stood there, he saw not one, but two men on horses.
"Ah, there he is. The legendary Arthur Morgan. Young an' fit, this feller," the one glanced to the other. "'Parently still enough years to rack up quite a tag."
Arthur eyed him. And when he finally spoke, his gravelly voice was level and sharp. "Put all that behind me. Even nabbin' bounties myself these days."
"Don't much matter to me," the first man said, letting his head sag to the side. "You c'n claim to be a do-gooder all ya want, but people don't change. Law says so."
"Law?" Arthur's tone rose in pitch. "Can't try to tell me that's why you're here."
"Nah, law's who pays my bills. Just like you now, Morgan. But, truth be told, I'm here for selfish reasons." He sat back a bit in the saddle, a greasy smirk beginning to pull up the corner of his mouth. "You know how long, how many years I been waitin' for this? The Arthur Morgan, in the flesh…"
Still lying on her side, Eliza reached for the plank of the wagon bed that Arthur had glanced at, hastily trying to pry it up by her nails while avoiding waking the children.
"Ah, so it's less about 'bounty' for you… More about 'hunt,'" she could hear Arthur say.
"You could say that."
Arthur stared at him, his hands hanging still and comfortable at his sides near his gun belt. "You can still turn around, go on home. Forget you ever saw me. Nobody has to get hurt today."
The man let his head sag back and laughed outright. "See, 'at's what I like about you, Morgan. You still like to believe, that you's gonna win. That you can get away, everything be okay. Probably part a' what's kept ya alive this long. And I admire 'at, I really do," he slowly shook his head.
"Was more for your sake, jackass," Arthur's timbre rumbled low.
"Oh! Okay, so you really mean business, tryin'a sell all the do-goodin'!" he wheezed. "'At you give a flyin' shit about us?"
Arthur grumbled through clenched teeth, "Whatever was there, you're really pushin'…"
"Well. Let's see if I can't getcha to the edge," he grinned.
"What?" the other man's head whipped his partner's direction.
But the first man's eyes never left Arthur's. "I saw her. Bathin' in the creek."
Registering his words and all that they meant, Arthur's eyes flickered with fire, his chin jutting quick to the side.
From where he stood off to the side watching the interaction between the mounted man and his younger self, Arthur ground his teeth tight. "Take this bastard out, please."
"You lucked out, Morgan." The man sucked in a low hiss. "Oooo, she got a body like a fine, top shelf whiskey, yes she does. Mm!"
"H-hey. I didn't sign up for this, Reg," the other man said, seemingly growing itchy in his saddle. "You said we's gonna nab 'im an' go!"
"Shut up, Hank. This is Morgan we're talkin' 'bout. I ain't come all this way to not see 'im get off a shot."
"What! That's right, this is Morgan! You got a death wish? I'm willin' to bet he don't want a shootout just feet away from his family! We can be smart about this!"
Still lying on her side within the burlap of the wagon, Eliza took slow, even, measured breaths. She watched through where the corner of the burlap occasionally flapped open, and when it did, she could see Arthur, standing steely and grave. She could read his thoughts, fuming and outraged as they were. But she knew that was exactly what he was doing—avoiding a shootout, and the chances of stray bullets, as best he could.
Moments seemed to stretch out as the first man and Arthur glared each other down. And when the man finally spoke, his words were slow and calculated: "I'munna have your woman, over and over again, 'til she can't cry for mercy no more. Then I'munna slice your babies' fingers off, one by o—"
A shot rang out from Arthur's pistol, and the man slumped to the ground from his horse with a hole in his forehead.
When Arthur glanced at the second man, he could see he was still panicking, deciding what to do. But just as Arthur was in the middle of saying, "Now, Hank, you wanna end up like your friend here?" he made a move for his gun, and Arthur shot him in the head.
No sooner did his body hit the ground, when something clobbered Arthur's shoulder from behind, effectively knocking his gun from his hand. He turned to find himself face to face with a third man, and before he knew it, they were grappling and wrestling in the dirt. As the burly man came over top of him, Arthur knocked him in the face a couple times. But the man got his hands around his throat before he could knock him hard enough.
As Arthur struggled to get air, he heard another shot ring out and watched the man's temples explode. When his body crumpled, he pushed him off and looked up to see Eliza standing frozen with both arms still up and hands still around the aimed pistol.
He could read all the emotions that flickered across her intense eyes when she saw what had happened at the other end of the pistol. Wrath, resolve, relief. A hint of alarm and bloodguilt.
But just to her left behind her shoulder, he noticed yet another shadowy figure.
"Liza! Drop!" he shouted as he scrambled for the gun that had been knocked from his hand. As she dropped to the ground covering her head with both hands, he took aim from his spot on the ground and shot him in less than a heartbeat.
The only sound that remained was Eliza's ragged breathing where she sat crouched and trembling. He quickly crawled to her and brought his arm around her neck as she struggled to catch her breath.
Just then the sounds of desperate, terrified wailing arose from the wagon. Looking into each other's eyes for a split moment, they both scrambled to their feet and flew to the children.
.
Hi, Readers!
The next chapter will continue the same dream of Arthur's.
So I know that by now this work may've arrived at a place you weren't anticipating when you first opened it, or even when you read the first few chapters. Though I planned out the plot for this work while writing the previous work in the series, I know it probably seems at this point to have gotten very convoluted and maybe overly fluffy.
Please know two important things. That I promise, promise, promise you I have 1899 scenes planned for future chapters. (If you can hang with me, we will get there together.) And that I so solemnly swear I have a very big, intensely meaningful (at least for me) finish planned for this work/series. (In other words, what you're reading now is not purely for its own sake; it all has a point and is all going somewhere very important to me, and hopefully to you.)
If anything in this work is confusing to you, or if you simply adore these characters too much to wait for the next chapter, I encourage you to check out either or both of the previous works in the series. Character motivations are explained very throughly there (including some reasoning for the intense grief behind these dreams). AND there's more Arthur daddy fluff. For instance, there is a scene of Arthur helping baby Isaac learn to walk to Eliza in "Only Fools Hold onto Hope." And they yo fishing together in "Disaster Road."
I work harder on this than I probably should. Not that it's eating away at my life or anything [yet ]. But for instance, after a long hard day, I'll tax my brain even more by writing instead of chilling and flopping in front of the TV screen. Or I'll sometimes stay up later than I probably should, just to write.
It's because I enjoy it so thoroughly, and I enjoy you guys. Thank you so much for being here. 💕
Love to all,
Rosie