About 3 Months Later, upon His Return

Arthur rode his horse at a trot through the grove of trees, ducking as he brushed past a few low branches. The blossoms rustled and the petals fell in a soft cloud behind him. Springtime in Misty Willow.

He grinned at the thought of Isaac rushing up to greet him with his arms stretched out wide. He could already hear the melody of his laughter trickle on the breeze. He'd kneel and take his son in his arms and kiss him on the cheek, and find it hard to let go. As Isaac grew, Arthur had always said he'd liked his new age even better than the last, though he hadn't previously thought it possible. When he'd been an itty bitty baby, he'd been more precious than jewels—and he still was—but he was getting smarter and smarter and interacting more and more all the time. Arthur found he liked the precocious little package he had in his son to talk to.

And Eliza. He could see her smile from the porch as she watched their son run up to him. He'd try to apologize for the last time he'd been there and behaved as an imbecile. For the rotten, sour things he'd said. And although he'd spent many a night under the stars wondering how to do it, somehow he knew the words still wouldn't come about right. He didn't know what it was inside him that had been fractured and set out of joint, but it seemed almost every time he got around her, at least once he spat at her like a viper. She didn't deserve any of it. This last time had been the most vicious to date, and he'd never even apologized. If his words felt flimsy, he'd figure out some other way to make it up to her.

As he rode up the little hill he always met before coming to the ranch gate, his stomach jumped at the thought of a hot meal, a bath, a bed, and a warm embrace.

He crested the hill and approached the ranch, pulling his horse to a slower pace. A pang jolted from his elbow to his hand, and his chest seized as he peered past the gate.

Two crosses. He lowered his head.

He rode over to the graves and looked down at the nameless markers. He slipped off his horse and sank into the ground on his knees. He let out a long breath, trying not to let the waves of grief pull him under. He reached out and gathered the soft, cold earth above their graves in his hand. It must've been relatively recent.

Poor, dear, sweet Isaac. He'd changed his life once, and now he'd changed it again.

He stayed there a while looking at their graves, just wanting to be with them. Nothing was left for him but their memory; those memories that passed before his eyes were warm, but the reality he now sat in was bone-chillingly cold and empty.

His only child and the mother of his child. Gone. They'd left him here, alive. He gritted his teeth and felt his face go red as a couple hot tears seeped out, one at a time.

Just then he heard a soft, high-pitched whimper from behind him. He turned to see the dog he'd gotten Isaac slowly inch through the front door, scrawny and timid.

"Allie?" he sniffed. "What're you still doin' here, girl?" He went and crouched in front of her. "Looks like you've grown some since I saw you last." She gave him a forlorn look, and he eyed her slightly protruding ribs as he gave her head a rub. "Grown and shrunk, I guess." He scooped her up and put her under one arm. "You're a damn fool to've stayed here, girl. Shoulda hightailed it after…" He swallowed. "Coulda found yourself some food, made it just fine out there in them woods. Were you pickin' the cabin clean?"

He lifted his head and gave a brief thought to entering the homestead, but quickly thought better of it. He never wanted to step foot in there again.

He took one last glance at the graves before turning and walking away. What more could the world take from Arthur Morgan? It would happen to him, of all people.

"Lookin' back on all the wreckage,

all I see is their faces.

How many hearts have I broken?

And tell me, are they still breaking?

.

I went lookin' for attention

in all the wrong places.

I was needin' a redemption.

Get me out of these cages."

.

- Needtobreathe, "Cages"

He road into Misty Willow, the town nearest the ranch, with the dog on his lap. He wasn't looking for Isaac and Eliza, and he wasn't looking for bodies neither. He knew where they were. He was looking for signs as to what in fact happened to put them there.

Once he reached the mercantile, he entered with the dog under his arm, approaching the counter and addressing the owner.

"Howdy. Found this little 'un a few miles back; she's mighty pretty to be a stray," he said. "Think you could find it in your heart to take her in, or know someone who might?"

The old man wagged his head. "Oh, no, sir. It's right kind of you to lend your thoughts to a little stray, but… Couldn't about think of adding another mouth to feed. Ah, is that a Redbone? Fine dog. Mighty pretty, you're right at that. Say, I know a feller in town who breeds them; I'm sure he'll take her in, get a few litters out of her," he said as he lifted the dog and took her behind the counter.

"Thank ya. Appreciate that," Arthur said.

"We gotta get some meat on your bones, girly," he said as he knelt to her and tossed her a piece of jerky, watching her scarf it up. "Yeah, she'll live a good life," he said as he straightened. "There anything else I can help you with?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, uh… I was just down by Deer Head Ranch, saw two crosses out front. What happened there? Sickness or somethin'?"

The man's countenance immediately fell, and his eyes sagged with grief. "Ah, Eliza and Isaac…" he said. "I used to take them groceries every few weeks. They'd make their way in here every once in a while too. Smart, sweet, church-goin' woman, she was. The kindest woman. Fiery too, if you got her goin'," he chuckled. "She would chip in for goods and supplies for the beggars and vagrants round the area, and once a month we'd pass out blankets, mugs of coffee, food and necessities. An angel in human form, she was."

Arthur's eyes went wide.

"She was a subtle beauty," the man continued. "By no means the kind that stops you in your tracks, but…her smile was somethin' to behold—when you were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of it, that is. It could light up your world," he smiled. He looked at Arthur. "Hey, you're not a half-bad lookin' feller yourself. Maybe the two of you woulda been good for each other. If she'd stayed alive for you, that is. And that Isaac, sweetest little feller. Such a good kid. Sharp as a tack too, that one. He had a speech issue, struggled with it off and on—mostly on. She tried everything to get him to talk, but, oh, most days…" he shook his head, "nothin' doin'. But unlike everyone else, I knew he was no dimwit for it. No, he just wrestled with the melancholia, just like his mama."

The brim of Arthur's hat covered his eyes as he looked down, and the corner of his jaw flared.

"Some days Eliza had an easy gleam in her eyes, but other days…the light was out—faded, and she had shadows under her eyes, like she carried a weight on her shoulders…" the man said pensively and shook his head. He sighed and raised his eyebrows. "Some dandy bought her the deed to that land several years back, just after she had Isaac. She never did say who. I was glad for it, though. She needed it. Needed a quiet place outside of town. Well—" he caught himself. His face soured in disgust at his own words. "In the end, I guess she needed it like she needed a hole in the head."

Putting the pieces together, Arthur grimaced at the truth behind the sentiment.

"Last week…" he began.

Arthur straightened, intent on the man's face as he spoke the next words.

"Couple of miscreants found their way onto her farm," his voice went hoarse.

Last week?

"Held her up. Took her for all she had," the man said. "Ten measly dollars at the time. Pathetic excuses for human beings. They could've gotten much more robbin' a coach or a bank, even a train." He stopped and sighed. "It wasn't enough," he wagged his head. "So they shot her dead for her troubles. Her and the child. Couldn't have 'em tellin' tales on 'em, I reckon. Devil's logic. No good reason, if you ask me. Just plain evil to cover up evil. Cold brutality for its own sake." He sniffed. "It's hard to believe this is a world where I'm here and they're gone. Some kinda horrible mistake. They were so young, they were. So full of life, even if they didn't always know it themselves." He shook his head. "Such a waste."

He looked up to find Arthur gone and heard the door swing closed.

Arthur stumbled out the door and into the street. Feeling his stomach revolt, he turned into the empty alley. He fell on all fours as the loss and fury racked his body, and he retched hard.

But his mind sent him into a different time and place.