Out of the Dark
sky_daybreak
Chapter 3: Take you up and bring you down
Chapter Text
Arthur near jolts in surprise when Abigail approaches him and he quietly curses himself for being so lost to his mind. He's thinking so much these days, honestly, he might actually end up breaking something in his brain if he keeps going like this.
"Could you, I mean." Abigail seems so unsure for a moment and Arthur consciously tries to gentle his features a bit and drop the frown. He cares for her, cares for the boy, remembers her breaking down in tears at the thought of John dead. Remembers the startled grief in her eyes when she realizes that she won't ever see him again, after he lifts her onto the horse behind Sadie. He remembers the way she handed him the key, gripping onto it, onto him, just a bit longer, like she tried with all her might to keep him alive just an extra minute. As if with this small act, she could end up saving his life somehow or change its course.
She's so brave and so strong. John is one of the luckiest men alive and Arthur finds himself reaching out, gently putting a brief, steadying hand on her shoulder, her hands calming a bit from their nervous gesturing, before he lets the touch drop away again.
"Would you take the boy fishing?" She asks and Arthur nods before she has to come up with words to try and cajole him into it. He tries, he actively tries to be better this time around and he won't make her beg for a bit of kindness, for someone to be there for the kid too, even if it's just for an hour or two. Besides, Arthur starts to like the thought of being a proper uncle this time around. He doesn't ever want to replace John as the father, but that doesn't mean he can't be a bit helpful from time to time.
"Sure, Abigail." He tells her and sees her shoulders sag with relief, a true smile blooming on her face. "I'll take the kid fishing. Now?"
"Oh, yes, if you want to." She gestures to where Jack is playing at the edge of the camp and Arthur gives her an understanding nod. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it." Arthur says and heads over to Jack. It's only on the way there and catching a glimpse of Micah, that he realizes what this is going to mean. Damn it. The Pinkertons. At least they shouldn't hurt either of them. Still...
He's frowning again by the time he reaches Jack and has to pause a moment to take a deep breath. It wouldn't do to be grumpy to the boy or make him worry. This is supposed to be fun for Jack. Well, as fun as possible with who is going to accost them.
"Jack." He calls out and the boy looks up. Sometimes, Arthur wonders if Jack might be lonely and bored, single child that he is among a group of adults where most, frankly, don't really have their life together. Not that Arthur does either, so he isn't one to talk. "Let's go fishing, what do you say?"
The boy is just as light as Arthur remembers, when he pulls him up into the saddle, Storm standing carefully still like she's very aware of the small passenger. On the way away from camp, Arthur promises Jack to go looking for a book, the boy's face brightening up in a grin as he tilts his head back to look up at Arthur.
Arthur even urges Storm into a faster gallop at Jack's request, hearing the boy's laughter. It twinges something in his chest, a memory of Isaac popping up unintentionally. The boy loved riding and Arthur loved teaching him. Loved lifting him up in the saddle and smiling at the way his face would light up at praise or at getting something right. Isaac had been such a good kid.
His chest tightens and he has to take a careful breath. Ever since waking up, he's thought more about Isaac than before and the thought fills him with guilt. Something about dying himself seems to have knocked something loose. A part of Arthur wonders if their crosses even still stand and who is caring for the graves. He hasn't been back in years. If given the chance, he has to visit them at least one more, one last time. He owes it to Eliza and Isaac. They deserve better than to be less than ghosts, for him to avoid thinking about them as if that's going to make the pain disappear.
Arthur honestly contemplates to not pick the same spot along the river as last time, but he feels that it's important to know that the Pinkertons are there. It's important to know their enemies, especially now that Micah is back in camp and it makes sense for the detectives to show up.
The only thing Arthur skips, in all honesty, is fishing. Jack didn't seem all that interested or invested in it the last time around. Instead, Arthur dutifully helps him pick flowers for a necklace for his mother. It's something he wouldn't have done before, but he finds he doesn't care now. Something about dying, about watching so many folks die before him, about getting betrayed and seeing his whole life fall apart, it really makes it so silly, to be bothered about helping a kid do something nice.
"How heartwarming." A voice drawls behind him and Arthur straightens from where he's crouched beside Jack, letting the kid show him how he makes the necklace - which Arthur has no idea how to make, if he's honest, so he's actually really learning something, not just humming along to encourage Jack.
He steps in front of the kid, ignoring the way Milton smiles at him, all slick cold, that small smile sharp as a knife. Arthur still remembers Abigail shooting him, remembers almost losing to the man, how he would get Sadie as well. He has no idea how things are going to go this time around, but Milton is certainly a problem he has to find a solution for as well. What a damn mess, no matter where he looks, a new obstacle appears.
The two detectives are just as unkind and more or less subtly menacing as the last time. Arthur can't help but keep shifting slightly to ensure he really has Jack behind him, a paranoid voice in the back of his head worrying that by changing even the tiniest thing, he might change what happens too, that they might end up hurting the kid.
He only allows his shoulders to relax again after the detectives are gone from his sight. Looking back at Jack, the kid looks up at him with worried eyes, unsure if he should be scared but definitely unsettled too.
"It's alright, I'll fix it." He promises quietly and crouches back down beside Jack. "Come on, let's finish this. It's going to make your mother very happy."
"Yes, uncle Arthur." Jack looks a bit reassured and Arthur keeps an eye on their surroundings as the kid finishes up the necklace and then stands up, carefully holding it to ensure it doesn't get squished.
"Let's go back." Arthur lifts him back into the saddle and keeps the pace slow enough that he can see if anyone might follow them. Jack is calling out for his mother as soon as they step into camp and Abigail's face lights up at receiving the necklace.
After telling her everything went well, Arthur takes a quiet, deep breath and turns to Dutch. Alright then, time to warn the man about the Pinkertons. That's going to be fun. Squaring his shoulders, he lets the serious, tense expression he held back until now cross over onto his face.
~*~
Arthur still is of the opinion that they shouldn't rob the train. On the other hand, there is no shortage of people willing to take his place and he has no strong enough argument to keep them from going for it. John especially would feel smarted and like Arthur just doesn't want him to succeed with something or get a plan right or anything of the sort. So Arthur rather accompanies them and hopes to everything that is willing to listen, that nothing goes wrong.
Like last time, Sean is by the oil wagon and Arthur already knows there is no convincing the kid to leave. Sean is hell-bent on coming along, so Arthur won't even bother with trying.
"You're getting better." He says instead, nodding to where Sean practices his quick-draw on a couple of bottles.
Sean pauses and then straightens. "Alright, let's have at it."
Arthur pauses as well from where he's about to lean against the wagon and looks at Sean in confusion, frowning. The kid gestures at him, something incredulous and a bit confused and damn it, even slightly guarded in his gaze.
"What is it with you?" Sean asks. "You being all nice an' praising. You hit your head?"
Arthur can't help but frown more now, feeling his shoulders tense a bit, uncertainty slithering along his muscles. He...was he really that bad before? Damn it.
"You are getting better. At least you're hitting closer to the target now. You'd still end up shooting your allies before your enemies, but you're getting better." He points out, voice going a little rougher despite himself, waving his hands in a bit of exasperation, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling nesting in his chest. "You want me to lie about that or what?"
"That's more like it." Sean says, gesturing right back at him. "All sour, the good ol' Arthur I remember. What's up with you?"
Arthur drags a hand over his face and feeling the brief urge to just make a frustrated noise. Then again, he's usually more dignified than that and he ends up sighing heavily, briefly staring skywards.
"Look." He tries and Sean falls quiet, eyes smart and attentive on him. Anyone saying Sean is dumb is a damn dumbass themselves and would end up robbed blind by the end of the conversation. It's no wonder the kid noticed that something is different. "I just..."
Words are damn hard and he sees a small frown briefly tug at Sean's brow, before the kid settles back on his heels, looking like he might start to catch on to what is going on with Arthur. For a split second, Arthur can't help but remember him on the ground in Rhodes, the splatter of blood, that too quick, too sudden, too unexpected bang of the rifle and watching Sean crumble, there one moment and gone the next. Just like that. It's almost scary, looking back at it.
"I've had some time to think." Arthur says and it's true too. He's had so, so much time to think, even before getting this second chance. When he was ill, sometimes all he did was think, during the nights he slept too little, the hours he spent on horseback, struggling to accept his fate and succumbing to the realization that he can't stop it in the end. All those hours spent thinking about how to salvage what he can and how to save John and his family and anyone else left by that point.
"You always was a brooder." Sean says, voice flipping to something lighthearted and near careless, a wave of his hand implying that he's ready to drop the subject.
The thing is, Arthur isn't dumb either and he knows Sean has understood quite a bit of what went unsaid. He certainly also doesn't miss the brief glance Sean throws him from under the brim of his own hat. Arthur pushes upright from his position and sees the way Sean tilts towards him, adjusting his stance. He remembers the conversation they had the last time in this place, of Sean telling him he had no time for him no more. The kid isn't so wrong about that.
"Want me to teach you?" Arthur gestures at the bottles and doesn't comment at the bullet holes he can see in the wood and stone, all the missed shots. Sean's eyebrows rise and he looks surprised, before quickly taking a step sideways.
"For real?" He grins as Arthur takes up his place at his side, letting his hand fall to the gun in his holster. "Alright, but let me tell you, I catch up fast."
Arthur can't help but chuckle under his breath. "Sure you do kid."
"Oh, I will. Be prepared to be left in the dust, old man." But Sean's grinning, eyes sparking like a wildfire and Arthur settles down for a lesson.
By the time John and Charles arrive, Arthur has to admit that Sean does learn reasonably fast. His accuracy has improved in the last couple of hours, before they settled down to rest and Arthur feels a bit better at knowing he mostly hits the bottles now. Not perfectly and the shots aren't necessarily good ones, but they largely hit the target. Anything that helps Sean be better at keeping himself safe and alive is good in his books.
They head out then, Sean blabbering on and Arthur can't help his smirk, chin tucked down to hide the expression a bit, at the exasperation all around that Sean pulls out of them. Arthur, while he can admit that it does get a bit much, is equally as glad to have all of them with him. Alive and well.
"Alright, we should be quick about this one." Arthur tells them as the tracks come into view. "You heard about the Pinkertons, right? We should be prepared for the law being alerted to us being here."
Charles nods, serious, while John frowns in thought. Sean just rolls his eyes and gives his shoulder a small shove-pat, an expression of exasperation mingled with a strangely reassuring end. Really, this kid.
"Loosen up, will ya? No wonder you lot get nothing done." Sean says as he hops down from the wagon. "They're not gonna catch us."
Well, hopefully not. Arthur climbs up the wagon while everyone else slips away to stay out of sight. Hiding his face, Arthur can't help but feel nervous and just a bit uneasy. Not because of the robbery, he's done too many to be unsettled by it, but his worry lies with the law he knows is going to arrive too quickly. He'll try to get everyone to move away as reasonably soon as possible. If needed, he's going to drag Sean by his damn ear.
Things go like he remembers it. The engineer gets knocked out and Arthur hurries over to accompany John inside. All the while, he keeps sneaking fast, brief glances out the windows of the train and he notices that John starts to do the same at one point, growing uneasy.
"Something wrong?" John rasps as they are about to move to the next wagon.
"Let's hurry." Arthur murmurs back. "I think I saw some lanterns in the distance."
"The law?" John asks, alarmed and peers over his shoulder to the dark outside, as they step into the next wagon.
"Possibly. Let's take this one wagon and then leave before they get here." Arthur urges and John gives him a curt, understanding nod.
They wrap the robbery up fast from then on. It's possible the most efficient they've ever been and Sean thankfully listens when both John and Arthur tell him and Charles to get a move on. Their horses are waiting for them and carry them away swiftly into the night. Arthur can't help but exhale once they're far enough from the train. Looking back, he can now see the dozens of lights swarming the train and John whistles lowly at his side.
"Damn, that would've been ugly." He glances at Arthur. "Good that you noticed them."
"Was lucky, that's all."Arthur mumbles and can't help his dark frown. "Pinkertons being here makes me nervous."
John blinks at the admission, though he doesn't say anything about it, merely frowns as well. Charles, who rides ahead with Sean, slows down and waits until they catch up.
"We were lucky to leave when we did." Charles says, subtle relief lacing his words. "We can't exactly afford a shootout."
"No, we can't." Arthur murmurs. "Let's go before they start searching the area."
"Was that a setup? The law turned up real fast." John asks and where Arthur brushed the idea off before, he now thinks of Micah, thinks of the Pinkertons and something bitter and ashen seems to spread over his tongue.
"I don't know." He answers, because the truth is, he doesn't. It could be that this was just a coincidence, that Micah didn't have anything to do with this, but he can't afford letting his guard down. He looks at John, Sean and Charles, who are all watching him attentively, though Sean hides his watchful gaze behind a cocky, lopsided grin. "But just in case, let's be more careful from now on."
The thing with the train went better this time around, thankfully and the money is reasonable, decent. And yet, Arthur feels something like mist-cold dread ghosting along his neck and making his shoulders tense slightly. His mouth feels dry as he takes one last look at the robbed train, before it disappears from sight as they ride over a hill. Arthur can't shake the feeling that something bad heads their way, that he's not changed anything even with sidestepping the law finding them by the train. Damn it, he just hopes they can avoid that shootout in Valentine, though he already has a feeling that won't happen.
What a damn disaster everything is.
~*~
Valentine is a bloody tragedy. Arthur sees it coming from a mile away and yet, doesn't dare to try and change it. They'll all make it out alive, after all. He doesn't dare to ask John or hell, even Strauss, to keep themselves hidden, to watch out. He's too worried of changing this song and dance and having one of them delivered dead to his feet. To watch John fall, bloody and dead and bringing the news to Abigail. He isn't sure if he could take it. Watching John fall from the train, shot in the shoulder, had been bad enough already.
A part of him is also slowly but surely unearthing anger towards Dutch. Not the kind of anger that makes him get in the man's face, not that Arthur would either way, not now anyways, but the kind that makes him want to knock the man out and order the camp to pack up to get to safety. To shoot Micah point blank between the eyes and finally leave these lands behind. To shake Dutch until he sees reason again.
It's the kind of anger that seems to make his heart ache and burn. It's filled with so much bitter pain that Arthur just wants to walk up to Dutch and ask him why. Ask him why he's not good enough, why it has to be Micah, why he has to bring them all to their doom. Why he will abandon him, stop believing that Arthur is worth saving, worthy of his care and consideration. Why he just won't listen. A part of Arthur even starts to doubt if Dutch ever really cared for him, ever really loved him, though he knows that thought is unkind. There was a time, years ago, when Dutch would ruffle his hair and praise him, help him shape his skills and laugh freely, soothing people as he handed out whatever goods they stole.
Dutch was truly good, once upon a time. And like with all things, that part of the story seems to have come to an end. And it brought all the rest of them to a painful, bloody end before as well, but this time, Arthur is determined to ensure it has a better ending for the others at least. Dutch can crash and burn, a part of him decides. If it comes that far, Arthur won't stick around to see it, won't just stand by and watch as the flames consume everything around them as well. He'll go and he'll take who he can.
Arthur clearly remembers the overheard conversation between Dutch and Strauss upon entering the saloon, how Dutch said he was too old to change. Arthur thinks that's a load of horseshit, because if a stubborn bastard like himself can figure out what the right thing to do is, Dutch could do it a hundred times over and do it better. The simple truth is that Dutch doesn't want to change. Doesn't want to stop doing what he does and seeing himself the way he does. And something about that realization is both entirely unsurprising and hard to swallow.
When they finally leave Valentine behind and escape, Arthur notices how heavy he's breathing, his hands almost shaking. All the dead and for what? They're only going to keep being chased and now that Arthur knows how this will go, he can see that they never stood a chance of escaping the way Dutch envisioned it. They made too many enemies, spilled too much blood, followed Dutch for too long. Loyalty, once what held them together then turned into their poison.
Arthur can't help but feel like things are slipping through his fingers a bit, as if he's trying to catch and hold on to fine sand. He feels nerves lacing through his shoulders and making him tense up. He's scared, he can admit that much to himself. Scared that he's going to fail this, that he's going to fail everyone he tries to save. He also knows that he can't afford hesitation. When it comes down to it, he'll have to do what it takes. Or watch other people die all over again, if he isn't already in the ground long before them.
Arthur just wishes it would be a little bit easier. Then again, if it were indeed easy, things wouldn't have taken a bad turn in the first place.
He's angry and tense when he returns to camp. It's that anger that makes him speak up just as Dutch is about to order him to go check out a new spot for the camp.
"We have to stop, Dutch." Arthur hisses roughly, stepping close so he can keep his voice down. He can see the way something in Dutch's eyes shutters, his face smoothing over so for a moment, it's impossible to tell what he thinks. It's the same expression Hosea got for his worries and his anger just a moment ago. "You have to see that. We're only going to make this worse. This is going to kill us."
"Arthur, calm down." Dutch puts a hand on his shoulder and for a frozen second, Arthur realizes he can no longer tell if the soothing, reassuring quality of his voice is honest or just another act to keep him on Dutch's side. "It will be alright. We leave here and bring some distance between us. All it takes, is one big thing and we'll be long gone before these Pinkertons or the law or whoever else catch up to us. But I need you with me, I need you strong."
Arthur grits his teeth strong enough to hear them grind. His voice, when he speaks sounds rough. "Dutch, listen to me."
"I hear you, son. But, have faith in me. I have a plan, it will all work out, you'll see. Just have a little faith." Dutch gives his shoulder a squeeze and Arthur feels like he's choking on the ugly bark of laughter that gets stuck in his throat. "Now, go and take a look at this spot Micah mentioned. Take Charles with you. The rest of you, get packing!"
For a second, Arthur feels rooted to the spot, feels the same betrayal creep up his back that had clutched him so tightly back when Dutch walked away in that factory, the same bitter, burning betrayal that was with him in his last moments before he died. For a second, he stares at Dutch, not hearing anything that goes on around and it feels like something in his mind clears. It's not a good sensation. It feels cold and sharp, like shattering glass. He's lost Dutch a long time ago. It wasn't Micah who caused it, but instead who made him see it. Made him see that Dutch is so far beyond Arthur's reach, any kind of efforts on Arthur's part would be wasted. There is a yawning rift between them and for the first time, Arthur really sees it, really notices it.
And now Dutch sends him to a spot Micah picked. Just like Micah, most likely, got Cornwall on their tail in that saloon in Valentine. The ugly, seething thing in his chest rears its head and makes him wish he could take Micah along to that spot and shoot him somewhere, leave him behind and blame it all on an attack. He should. Should have done it far sooner too. Should have left him in Strawberry or done him in during that coach robbery. Suddenly, it feels like an ice-cold mistake to leave Micah alive.
With effort, Arthur drags his thoughts away from the rat and away from Dutch, his shoulders feeling tense enough to snap when he turns around. At least Hosea is as angry as Arthur feels and something about it gives him a strange kernel of hope, that Hosea could end up choosing him over Dutch in the end.
"Hosea." Arthur quickly steps after him once he leaves Dutch, who turns back to finish packing up. The elderly man pauses and Arthur can see him wrangle his anger away, to have as clear a mind as possible for Arthur. Arthur lowers his voice and subtly gestures towards Dutch. "Can do you something about him?"
Something in Arthur's chest falls and then hardens at the way Hosea briefly looks aside and closes his eyes for a second. He thinks he sees a flash of grief on Hosea's face, for a man they both knew and loved, a man lost over the years. Something final, as if Hosea already knows which way Dutch is heading and that he thinks has to see it through to the end as well. Arthur wonders how he never saw it all before. Wonders how, before, loyalty clouded his mind to moments like these.
"I'll do what I can, my boy." Hosea answers quietly, gently and yet too kind to lie. "Now go, we need to get out of here."
Storm senses his agitation when they leave, Charles and Taima at their sides. She's running with more force than before, almost angry in the way her hooves dig into the ground, like she's joining him in his anger. It's only when Charles pulls up beside him and asks him to slow down, that Arthur reins in the mess of emotions in his chest, the jumble of thoughts in his head.
"It went that bad?" Charles asks, a slight caution in his voice, like he doesn't know if it's okay to broach the topic. Arthur inhales harshly and forces himself to exhale roughly, to calm the hell back down.
"Cornwall found us. It was a bloodbath." He answers, voice harder than he wants it to be. At least Strauss is going to be out of commission for a bit, that's most likely the only good thing coming out of this. Staring ahead, with a start, he suddenly remembers the german family they're going to encounter.
He entirely forgot about them. Hazily, as though through a fever dream, a few glimpses of blurred memories pop up. He thinks they helped him, once, back when the illness was getting incredibly bad. How did he forget them? He doesn't know, but it's good to direct his restless energy at something else. At doing something good this time around. At being better himself.
"Let's go." He says to Charles, calmer now and the man seems to ease a bit as well, as if Arthur's tension had caused him to be more alert.
He's quieter from then on, follows Charles when they reach the place and find someone dead. The woman with the two kids is hidden away under a wagon like last time, but compared to before, Arthur tries to be soothing. He still doesn't understand a lick of what they say, but he tries. Tries to be more patient, tries to not be some ugly bastard that crashed into them like the second monster of the night, right after the animals that took the kid's father.
Charles helps. Charles has always been nicer, looked kinder and his voice is gentle and encouraging, while Arthur just hopes he has his sour expression a bit more under control.
They find the father of the family like last time and Arthur takes him back just like before. He still urges the family to leave, especially before more trouble finds them and ends up frozen as the man gently, carefully, places a gold bar in his hand.
"I..." He doesn't know what to say, just like last time. "Thank you."
The german smiles at him, looking less spooked this time around and isn't so overly cautious when patting Arthur's shoulder. Arthur still doesn't understand a word of what they say, but he waves them off, sees the relief on the kids' faces as they wave back and how the wife swipes a hand over her eyes, her husband pulling her into a one armed hug.
Exhaling, Arthur stares down at the gold bar. If his memory is right, the gang's going to be safe in Clemens Point for a while. He can afford going to collect some more money to hide away in that rotting cabin. Like this gold bar. And the bits of loot he got from the guys they shot tonight.
"At least something comes from this disaster." Arthur murmurs and stashes the bar away, before whistling for Storm to come over. He feeds her a treat, also in apology for his bad mood from before. She seems to have long forgotten it though and rubs her nose on his arm, snorting a bit of snot against his cheek. Arthur pushes her head away with a grimace and wipes his face clean. Then he looks at her and feels himself sobering, remembering everything from before and until now too. Her loyalty, her strength.
"Thank you." He murmurs and her ears perk. "Don't know why you chose a bastard like me, but, thank you."
Storm merely noses at his bag, lipping along it like she can coax the treats in there out of it. Arthur huffs in gentle amusement and just feeds her another carrot. She crunches, content and happy, standing close to him like she's right where she wants to be.
He's so damn lucky.
~*~
Arthur helps build up the camp and sees a few pleasantly surprised faces at it. Sean throws a joking comment his way and Arthur needles him into helping pitch the tents as well. It takes a while, but then everything is set up, campfires burning, tents steady and the horses fed, with Pearson already preparing food.
Arthur doesn't miss how Kieran ends up sticking close to his wagon and he pauses when he sees the horse that the kid is taking care of, brushing it out thoroughly, the horse looking so relaxed and at ease, it might fall asleep where it stands.
"That horse." He says and watches Kieran jump. The horse loses some of his relaxation, lifting his head to look over at Arthur. "Where did you get it?"
"B-Branwen?" Kieran's hand falls to his horse's shoulder and Arthur doesn't miss how the horse shifts just a tad towards the kid. "He's mine. He, he found me, after..."
"Ah, I see." Arthur takes a step closer, stretching out his hand. Branwen carefully takes a whiff and then settles back down, his attention returning to Kieran. "You got a loyal one here."
Kieran seems to cautiously relax a bit, a tentative smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. When he looks at his horse though, there is something steady and calm appearing in him, the nerves fading away.
"He's been with me for a while now. He, uh, was stuck at camp when I fled, up in the mountains, when you caught me. I don't know how he ended up finding you guys or following you down the mountains. I just...one day he was there." Kieran gently scratches Branwen's nose and Arthur hears the soft, quiet little whicker of the horse.
The sight makes him feel a bit lighter, a bit better. Arthur pats Kieran's shoulder, positively surprised when the kid doesn't flinch this time around, before he walks off. Pulling out a cigarette, Arthur lights it and looks around thoughtfully, head tipped down a bit to hide his sweeping gaze over the camp. People look a bit harried and tense, but not too worried.
Arthur though, Arthur knows that now they're here, things are going to get blown to all hell sooner or later. Sean. He won't let Sean die and then he somehow has to get everyone together and going before that bank job in Saint Denis. Exhaling smoke, he feels another headache coming and decides to head out again for today. To loot some more places he remembers, to find as much valuables and cash as he can. As much as he can scratch together. With a wry, humorless huff, he finishes his cigarette. Look at him, already sounding like Dutch. He doesn't like it one bit.
"Arthur, are you leaving already again?" Mary-Beth sounds surprised, when he walks past her towards the horses.
"Sure. There's a lot to do." He answers and she pauses and nods. "Want me to bring anything back?"
"Oh, oh no, I'm fine, thank you." She is quick to wave him off and Arthur remembers that pen he forgot again until now.
"Hey, you still write, right?" He asks and sees a shy but happy smile appear on her face as he mentions her hobby. "Want me to look for a pen for you?"
Now she's surprised. "You would? Oh, but you don't have to, it's just some silly writing, really."
"Nah, it's fine I don't mind." He's quick to reassure her, giving her shoulder a brief, gentle pat. She nods, her smile widening.
"Thank you, Arthur."
"Anything else?" He asks, because if he's already out he might as well look for other things too. "Any of the others need anything?"
She pauses at his question and something about her smile gets gentle, her eyes warming. "You've become...really kind, Arthur. It's good, I think. Let me ask the others, alright?"
"Sure." Arthur nods and inhales deeply when she quickly walks away. Kind, huh? He wonders, briefly, what she thought of him before. Before Beaver Hollow, his illness and before she turned scared and tense. He's glad she left, back when everything fell apart and he dearly hopes she would have been okay.
"You riding out?" Javier asks as he walks over, rifle at ease and looking as put together as always. Arthur still doesn't really know how to feel about Javier, doesn't yet know what to do in regards to the man. But...he'd like to try and drag him to safety too, before he follows Dutch to a crashing, burning end. He wants to see Javier safe or at least with someone far more deserving of his kindness and loyalty than Dutch.
"Yeah, I'm heading out for a bit, getting a feeling for the area." Arthur explains. "You need anything? I could try to look for it."
Javier appears surprised for a moment and then thoughtful. "Some plants, maybe, if it's no trouble. To poison my blades."
"Consider it done." Arthur hesitates for the barest of seconds, before he reaches out and briefly grips Javier's shoulder. The man flashes him a smile in thanks and then walks on to keep watch. Mary-Beth returns a minute later and tells him no one else seems to want anything for now, busy as they are with settling down in this new spot.
"You headin' out?" Sean wanders over just as she leaves again and Arthur is about to brush him off, when, unbidden, he remembers again. Remembers the spray of blood and Sean crumbling. That one second that took his life, that one moment of Arthur not paying enough attention. That one second of them all being too cocky, too confident.
"Want to come along? It's going to be boring as all hell, though, just warning you." He ends up saying, even if it means that he can't search for loot as much. Or that he'll have to be sneakier about collecting things. Sean's mouth stands open for a second, from where he was about to speak again and then he grins.
"Sure, of course I do! Why do you think you gotta ask?"
"Then hurry up, I'm not waiting for you." Arthur shoos him off and watches as Sean takes large steps to go get Ennis.
Kid's grinning up a storm when they ride out of camp and Arthur can't help but shake his head a bit, hiding his own, fond smile by tipping his hat. They do end up riding across the country in pretty much nonsense patterns, because Arthur doesn't remember the exact locations of some things and he goes for the cigarette cards as well whenever he remembers one being somewhere - hey, it promises money, easy money even, in comparison to other things he did.
"This really is boring." Sean says as he watches him root through a cabinet and then turns to look around. "Where do you even find these places? All rotten and abandoned."
Arthur straightens with a small grunt, letting a small sack of jewelry slide into his bag while Sean has his back turned.
"It's always important to look around." He says and Sean looks back at him.
"Bullshit." He nearly laughs and then shakes his head. "Sure, but keep yer secrets, I'll find 'em out sooner or later anyways."
Arthur just hums and tries once again to shake the picture of Sean crumbled to the ground, that hole in his head, that's haunted him ever since they left camp together.
"Alright, what's it?" Sean asks, stopping just as they step out of the old cabin. At Arthur's questioning look, he gestures at him. "You're staring at me, all sad, what's it?"
For a moment, it feels like the air itself gets stuck in Arthur's throat. For a moment, he wants to grab Sean and tell him to take Karen if she wants to go with him, take whatever he can and get the hell away. Get away before...Arthur tips his head down and hides the way he takes a deeper breath.
"'s just a bad day, is all." Is what he ends up saying and then holds up a hand when he can already hear Sean inhale, ready to protest. "Leave it, Sean. I don't wanna talk about it."
"Fine, have it your way." Sean relents, though he doesn't sound happy about it. There is a moment of silence, before he swings himself up in the saddle. "So, that's your thing now, doing nice things for folks?"
Sean motions to where Arthur has a pen and book tucked away in his bag. It's not the same pen he got Mary-Beth the last time, but just as good, just as well made, one of them steel ones, like the one he had gotten from Jimmy what feels like ages ago. He also found some plants for Javier.
Arthur just throws up his hands a bit in exasperation. "I can't do that or what?"
"I'm not saying that." Sean leans on the saddle horn, watching him, head slightly tilted and gaze too damn smart for his own good. "Just saying, you never was so nice before."
"People change." Arthur mumbles as he gets on Storm's back, patting her neck. Sean just sighs, or, more like groans, his head tilted back.
"Alright, alright, be all broody and sour. You heading back now?"
"Well." Arthur slants a glance his way. "I remember seeing signs of a camp a little while ago. You know, from them Lemoyne fellas. The raiders."
Sean's face lights up at once and he laughs, slapping Arthur on the arm. "Why didn't you say right away? And here I thought this was a waste o' me time. Lead the way!"
~*~
They return with Sean all to happy to regale everyone with the tale of them shooting up a small camp, picking up two bottles as he goes and handing one to Karen, while Arthur goes to bring Javier the plants, who gives him a smile in return. And something about that thankful smile makes Arthur feel like he wants to be hopeful that this time around, things are going to be okay between them. Even if he doesn't know for sure, he still can't help but hope, fool that he is. Hope that he might just garner enough trust that Javier at least considers that Arthur could be right about Dutch.
Mary-Beth is happy about her pen, her face lighting up in a way that made the whole trip worth it. Jack smiles wide and with joy at receiving his book and Abigail gives Arthur a thankful smile as well.
"It's, you've been real nice to him." She says quietly as Jack hurries to look for Hosea, hoping to ask him to help him read it. "Thank you, really."
"You raised him well." Arthur says quietly and sees her straighten a bit with pride, her face glowing. He knows it's not always easy on her, but she's doing the best she can, while still running with their lot.
Arthur steps back and goes to get some late dinner. He eats by himself, nodding to Miss Grimshaw - oh, miss Grimshaw. So loyal, so very loyal, and shot for that very same loyalty too. The only one left in camp during that last day who believed him when he told her that Micah was a rat. He remembers it, standing there, dying and thin and growing ever weaker, John at his side, clutching a shot shoulder and Grimshaw on the other, shotgun in hand. There and gone the next moment. Just as violently ripped from life as Sean.
The worst thing is, that even this time around, Arthur doesn't know if he can save her. She'd stay with Dutch, he's certain of it. Even if he would drag her off with him, she'd end up clobbering him over the head, or hell, knifing him even, before returning to Dutch. Not that he'd ever drag her along against her will, wouldn't do that to any of them.
"Mister Morgan." She stops and gives him a small, stern frown. "Get yourself together, there is absolutely no reason to look this sad." He ducks his head a bit on reflex and hears her tut. "Go on and mingle with the others. We are all alright and we will make it out here just fine. We were in worse scrapes before."
"Sure, Miss Grimshaw." He forces himself to say and steps away from her. They're not going to make it through this mess, he knows and Arthur is very certain, if he doesn't get folks away from here in time, they'll end up dying again. If he doesn't get it right, this whole second chance will be for nothing.
Still, Arthur takes her advice and goes to join the others by the fire, Lenny greeting him with a smile and offering the space on the log beside him. Arthur digs out a pack of sweets as he takes a seat and offers them - he found it by the camp Sean and he attacked, along with two bars of chocolate.
"Thanks." Lenny takes some with a grin and Arthur shakes two pieces of candy out on his hand as well, before passing the pack on. It's almost strange, seeing these grown folk light up with genuine delight and surprise at being offered some simple sweets.
"You're getting soft, Morgan." Bill remarks roughly as he passes by and notices what Arthur has done. From the corner of his eye, Arthur catches Karen bristling, as she takes the last of the candy, Sean straightening in response to both her and Bill as well. Lenny just sighs quietly. Charles throws the man a look and the way he crunches on his candy is close to disapproving. It makes Arthur bite back an unexpected smile.
"Yeah, sure." Arthur just waves him off. It's not his fault Bill is so angry and tense all the time and they just...can't seem to get along. This time around, a part of Arthur doesn't even want to try, remembering everything that went down, especially in Beaver Hollow.
"Ignore him." Tilly speaks up from where she joins him by the fire, Bill leaving with a grumbling huff. She smiles in thanks as Karen and Lenny hand her some of their candy. At this point, Arthur might get sweets for more folks than just Jack. Maybe. Most likely. It feels foolish not to, when it's such a simple thing.
Sean slaps his knee and draws everyone's attention, before starting on a story, seamlessly transitioning the moment to something far merrier. Arthur listens with maybe half an ear. He's honestly just taking a moment to sit there and breathe, tries to relax a bit and to keep the worries from starting right back up.
Because, the truth is, no matter his slowly growing treasure, he still hasn't solved anything. Still hasn't managed to do anything to save them from the path they're on. Charles, who sits on the ground beside him, shifts subtly until his toes lightly bump against Arthur's foot.
"Everything alright?" Charles asks in a whisper when Arthur looks over. "You look troubled."
"Just worried, is all." Arthur tries to reassure him. "It's going to be fine."
Dear god does he hope it will be.
~*~
Talking with Dutch is...difficult, but Arthur is too aware of having to play this careful than to risk anything, even something like talking back. So he follows, quiet and chest tight with churning emotions, when Dutch proposes a fishing trip. At least Hosea comes along too.
Like last time, they find Trelawney, caught by law men and like last time, Arthur ends up chasing after a train, with the deputy telling him not to be so damn slow. Something about it, about the whole way Arthur expected this, knows how it goes, causes him to slip up in the end.
He fights the last of the guys, Anders the leader, if he remembers correctly and feels the slice of the blade against his side, hot and biting, a grunt of pain escaping him as the man gets a strike in. It's such a strange mistake to make, to think too lightly of a stranger he already took down once before. Arthur thinks he should have known better. He manages to slam Anders against the side of the wagon, grabbing his head and giving that a rough slam as well, breathing harshly as the guy crumbles to the ground, unconscious.
Hissing, he looks down at his side, sees the way the fabric of his shirt and vest grow damp with blood. He braces himself as the train stops and presses a hand against the wound. It doesn't feel too bad, the angle of the slice was also all wrong to have gotten him in a bad way, but it hurts. Arthur takes a moment to inspect the wound, hitching up his vest and pulling the rip of the shirt further apart. A shallow enough cut. If he gets it treated in camp, it should be fine.
"Alright then, come on you bastard." He murmurs as he reaches for the unconscious criminal and hauls him up with a grunt, his wound flaring up.
On the ride to Rhodes, Arthur bites back the urge to rub a hand over his face as they pass Caliga Hall. Right, of course. The Braithwaites, the Grays, he forgot none of it. All that trouble they're going to get into, for a treasure that doesn't exist. There is only one sapphire bracelet - one that Arthur didn't even accept as payment in the end, Penelope and Beau had better use for it than a dying man. One bracelet and so much more trouble that it would tear them apart further and kill so many of them in their search for nonexistent Yankee gold.
Rhodes is a familiar sight when they reach it. Familiar in a dusty, sun warm and blood spilled kind of way. Both terrible and yet just a town he went to often enough, always ignoring that place where Sean ended up lying dead. Now too, Arthur doesn't glance that way.
Seeing Trelawney again is strangely reassuring. The man is smart and pretty much the only one Arthur isn't worried about at this point. He has a good head on his shoulder and the sensibilities to know when to get away from something. Arthur remembers, Trelawney leaving in Beaver Hollow and feeling relief at seeing the man go. At knowing that he'd be fine, knowing that if anyone found a way to get out of any kind of trouble, it was Trelawney.
"Arthur, are you alright?" Hosea asks, one hand already moving his arm to the side and the other going to inspect his side. "You're injured."
Dutch straightens with a frown and before Arthur knows it, they take a detour to the local doctor to get him patched up. Well, at least he doesn't have to worry about the injury now. It's also shallow enough, like he thought and can go without stitches, thankfully, as long as he doesn't strain it further.
On the continued ride to go fishing, Arthur has to resist the urge to stick close to Hosea and avoid Dutch. Instead, he rides beside Dutch and listens to them talk, only speaking up when it feels like he should. His thoughts are a mess of memories and half forming plans, as he tries to figure out how to handle the upcoming events. He doesn't know if he should ask Hosea to stop antagonizing the two families owning the area, but then again, Dutch wants to play them and there is little to be done once Dutch wants something. Especially when he gets wind of that rumored gold.
"So, Arthur." Dutch speaks up once they're in the boat and out on the lake. "What is troubling you so much lately?" His dark eyes are attentive on Arthur in this moment, not missing a thing.
"Last few months was tense." Arthur grunts out, focusing on rowing. Now that his lungs are free from the beginnings of coughs, he puts all his strength into it. Channels all his tension and the tangle that are his memories about what happened into rowing with fast strokes. "Things are a mess."
He can feel the way Dutch looks at him, can imagine the way his eyes flicker just the tiniest bit, as he thinks, trying to come up with the right words. To calm, to cajole, to keep him going steady on his side. He also catches the almost inaudible sighing exhale of the man.
"That is behind us now, Arthur. As long as you have faith and I have you and Hosea by my side, nothing can get to us." Dutch says, voice strong and confident and once upon a time, that would have made Arthur feel better. It would have made him feel like he didn't have to worry about things as much anymore and that their problems would end up fixed. Now, now all he hears is the voice of someone who leads them to their end, unwilling to open his eyes to the new world, the reality of who they became. Someone who just can't stop making enemies. And maybe, someone who just has to prove that he's the smartest one out of all of them. The one who wins.
"Enough of that dark talk." Hosea pats Arthur's shoulder. "We're here. Let's enjoy this day and bring some decent catch back."
It's a bit easier from then on, listening to their stories and concentrating on his fishing. Arthur even feels kind of up to joining the singing on the way back. Still, it feels bitter, in a way. To have this moment that made Arthur feel so close to them before, this echo of the family they once were. It hurts, to be with them and know how little this moment would mean to Dutch in the end.
Hosea gives his shoulder a squeeze as they get out of the boat and it somehow feels reassuring, understanding. Supportive. Arthur gives him the tiniest of nods and sees a subtle line of tension leaving Hosea's shoulders. Dutch is turning back around to them, talking and Arthur holds his gaze as steadily as he can, trying to keep his face from showing anything.
As they walk away from shore, he hears Sadie's angry voice. As much as he hates the pain this fight of hers is born out of, hates what brought her this grief that she turns to wild anger, there is a small sense of relief. Knowing she'll run with them soon. Knowing that she's going to be one of the people he can truly count on. It's going to be safer, having her around, Arthur thinks.
Turning to Pearson's wagon, he already sees her, angry and so, so strong. She's going to take them all by surprise. Hell, even now, Arthur is plenty certain that Sadie is going to keep surprising him, that she'll be a force to be reckoned with. It would be scary, really, if he wouldn't remember how it feels to have that force standing at his side, covering his back.
For now though, he'll try to keep her from possibly attacking Pearson.