Scarlett Meadows, April 1899
'Never a smile wit you, is there, Englishman?' Sean laughed as Arthur tightened the saddle bag on Montague.
'Ain't got much to smile about,' Arthur returned without looking at the kid.
'Come now, Art'ur. We got the money, certainly all the excitement!'
Arthur remained silent. The robbery was a success, Cornwalls men aside, but rich folk or not, he never really did enjoy beating them senseless for a few jewels.
'Tell Dutch I'm heading into Valentine,' he said eventually, hooking his foot into the stirrup and he threw his leg over the horse.
He kicked the horse into a canter as Sean called after him. With some nonsense, no doubt.
The trees gave way to the open country as the sun was slowly climbing into the sky. Finding what peace he could, Arthur took in all the sights of the land. The first rays of the sun rose over the treetops and bathed the fields in glorious sunlight. The morning mist had begun to clear away, and the birds were starting to sing again after their nightly serenade of silence.
He took his time, taking the longest route to the town that he knew and by the time he arrived in the Valentine, it was closing in on midday.
The town was busier than usual, with a large influx of workers pouring in from the surrounding farms, no doubt for their lunchtime drink.
Making his way through the crowd, Arthur walked into the saloon, a liveliness already enveloping the patrons.
Arthur took a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey before lighting a smoke. The barman seemed in no mood to serve anyone and only grudgingly took his money as he shoved a dirty glass towards Arthur, filling it with the brown liquid.
Arthur nursed his drink, watching everyone pass by, unsure whether it was the boredom or the risk of him being recognised that kept him looking. Eventually, though, his mind wandered, as it often did.
The gang were in a bad way. He felt they had lost direction and lost purpose. There was always another job to be had, one more damn carrot to chase; the only problem was, none of those carrots ever led anywhere new, just old ground covered with dead bodies and dried blood.
Arthur's gaze fell upon the girl sitting near him, her dark hair cascading onto her shoulders. He noticed her looking at him since he arrived, and now she had clearly found her prey.
'Drinking alone there, mister?' She said, her voice silky as she waltzed towards him.
'I am. If it's all the same to you, miss,' Arthur said, tugging at the brim of his hat, 'I'd like to keep it that way.'
He'd be lying if he said she wasn't a nice thing to look at. The good ones always were, but they were the type of girls that you could make a man part with a week's wages from a single smile. Arthur was too long in the tooth for those sorts of ventures, no matter how shiny the veneer was.
She smiled seductively at him, pushing back her hair.
'Must be some way I can convince you, cowboy,' she giggled, flicking her fingers across his hand.
The gesture caught him off guard, and he flinched involuntarily, pulling away his hand.
'Like I said, ma'am,' Arthur said, his lips pressed into a firm line, 'you take care of yourself now. There's a lot of nasty folk out there.'
He gave a short nod and turned back to his drink, hoping to put the whole affair out of his mind. As he drank his whiskey, trying to drown his conscience, he began to wonder just how many men had been tricked like that? More than most, he hazard a guess.
The moments crawled by and, for the most part, he was left in the solitude that he craved. His thoughts rotated like a carousel, between Dutch, Cornwall and now this task of supervising Trelawnys' rich niece. But where Dutch told him to go, he went. It seemed there were very few left to say no to him these days.
At least, it would be a job that he hoped would be over soon enough and give them a decent financial foundation. Arthur supposed it could have been worse. She seemed pleasant enough, with all the spoiled and demanding attitudes he expected of someone of her station.
His thoughts grew more curious as he wondered why Trelawny had never discussed this access to wealth, he hardly seemed the fatherly type.
Yet there was something about that Miss Edwards, her forthrightness and complete lack of showmanship he would expect from a relative from Josiah.
Hosea certainly seemed to be quite taken with the woman, commenting once or twice on her candour of their trip back from the estate a few days prior. He held a certain admiration in his voice when he spoke of her, but Hosea always did like the pretty women who could talk back to him.
He frowned, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why he was even thinking about her so much. It was probably the whiskey, or maybe it was simply that he had been gone for so long and was feeling particularly lonely. Whatever the reason, he tried to not dwell on it, or her too much.
However, a feeling crept over him, like he was missing something. Pieces of the puzzle that didn't quite fit. Not that it was any of his business, anyway. He was there to do a job and collect a paycheck, but Arthur's gut rarely lied to him.
Finishing his drink, he gestured for the barman, who gave a grunt of disinterest as his glass was filled once more. Arthur paid and turned to leave for one of the booths for some privacy and to clear his thoughts with the help of his journal.
The whiskey went down quicker this time, as it wasn't long before he found himself back and the bar for another, and then another. His journal did little to quell his thoughts as the amount of times he opened and closed the damn thing, he couldn't say.
By the time he stood with a slight sway to retrieve his fifth drink, he was stopped in his tracks when he saw that same sporting girl from before walking toward him.
She wore an expression of curiosity as she walked over to him, her hips swaying as she walked in a slow and provocative way that only a woman could achieve.
Thankfully, she didn't accost him this time around, but the alcohol that swirled in his blood told him he wanted her to.
You're a damn old fool, Morgan, he thought to himself as he lit his cigarette, the only women who want you and the ones you have to pay for.
He snorted into his drink, gulping deeply, and the stale taste of alcohol and cigarettes filled him.
It wasn't long, however, until he was joined again by the woman with dark hair.
'You sure do look lonely, cowboy,' she said in a low tone, as she took to the stool next to him.
She toyed with a rogue curl, wrapping it slowly around her finger and gave him another of her suggestive smiles.
'What's your name?' he asked, wanting nothing more than to escape from this place and her smile, that seemed to invite more than just companionship. An invitation of five minutes of happiness and an empty coin purse.
'I don't think you care all about that,' she said with a wry smile as her thigh glissaded against his.
'Nah,' Arthur said with a slight slur, 'I don't suppose I do.' He took to his drink again, finishing the remainders and beckoning for another.
She grinned at him as he drank. The light from the bar reflected off of her, as Arthur resisted the very visible swell of her breast pushed high past her corset.
'I have something else that will make you feel better,' she said coyly, as Arthur tried not to stare, both his patience and resistance waning.
Maybe it would make him feel better. He was always being told to lighten up, to not take things so seriously. It seemed to work well for all the other fools at camp.
'Lead the way,' he grumbled, as she stood, taking his hand as she walked upstairs.
She led him into one of the rooms in the building, a red light cast against the walls. Arthur felt himself beginning to get drunker by the second as she guided him to the bed, standing before him.
'Take off your clothes,' she commanded with a leer, and Arthur's head began to swim. He couldn't see anything else about her other than she was pretty, and he was drunk.
He shrugged out of his jacket as she removed her shawl and stepped out of her skirt. A smirk played on her lips as she licked them, her hair trickling in long, dark curls around her. Arthur was starting to understand why the others would frequent the girls so often.
She found her way to him, standing over his lap as she pushed him gently to the bed, her small, soft hands caressed his chest as she straddled him, biting at her lip.
'Please,' she murmured as his head grew heavy, his eyes growing heavier with each passing moment, 'I've been waiting for you all day.'
Arthur grabbed at her hips as a small moan escaped her. He could feel himself growing hard as she gently writhed on top of him.
'You can have me,' she said in a seductive whisper as she stroked his face and ran her fingers through his hair.
But it wasn't enough. The fog of his beastly urges waned as he tapped on the side of her leg, moving her off.
'How much do you want?' He said, although not unkindly.
'Pardon?' she said, her wide eyes searching him.
'It ain't you, darlin',' Arthur said, reaching into his pocket. 'Here,' he said, passing her a twenty-dollar bill.
'I sure don't charge that much, mister,' she said, but took the bill without much argument.
'I would have been happy to do it for free,' she laughed softly with a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
'Sure,' Arthur mumbled, taking his jacket. 'It's all for free until I'm asleep and you rob me blind.'
She blinked at him, enough of a confirmation for all he needed to know. He couldn't believe he was foolish enough to even think any of this was a good idea.
'Take care of yourself, sweetheart,' he said, leaving the room and the woman behind.
He made his way downstairs in some haste, breaking free again into the outside world, his head spinning far too much for what it should be for the afternoon.
He stumbled and swayed along the way back to camp as he tried to shake off his inebriated state, cursing himself for ever allowing this to happen. His body was so much different than his mind and while he was in no doubt he would have got his money's worth, it wasn't the way he liked to court women. It made them feel cheap, hell, it made him feel cheap.
Not that any woman would take him for him alone. Mary certainly didn't and Eliza... Well, that didn't even bear thinking about.
Without much command, Montague led Arthur back to camp, knowing that his owner was in no fit state to be taken anywhere else.
The whiskey churned in his stomach as he leapt from the horse with no grace. Dutch was already storming towards him.
'I hope you haven't been causing any trouble,' Dutch said, his eyes narrow as Arthur stumbled slightly towards the heart of the camp.
'Me, Dutch? Never,' Arthur replied with an indignant snort.
'Good. We're heading into a new town tomorrow. Rhodes.' The gang leader said as Arthur removed his hat, shaking out his hair.
'Sure thing,' he said, as the older man walked off, eyeing him suspiciously.
Arthur sat at the table, his head in his hands as the late afternoon sun bathed him in its welcoming warmth, wrapping him in a sarcophagus of comfort. Needless to say, it wasn't long before Arthur was asleep.