This chapter is a little shorter than I normally would like, but I just really wanted to end it where I did. Hopefully the next chapter will be written on time, I'm helping dogsit right now and the friend has Disney plus...

Chapter 15: The Bayou

The mud soaked into his boots, into his pants. It sucked him down and refused to let him go. Arthur rolled his eyes and yanked up hard with his leg in order to take another step. It seemed that Merlin's bravery did not extend to alligators, and the horse dumped him to run for dryer ground. He tried whistling, but Merlin refused to return for him.

"Damn horse," Arthur muttered to himself. "Damn Algernon Wasp and his damn orchids!"

As Arthur's leg and shoulder improved, his boredom increased drastically. The city began to bother him, the noise and crowds pressing in from all sides. He noticed the problems that Dutch liked to point out. The rich in Saint Denis sat in their mansions and ate lunch in fancy, private gardens while the poor begged on dirty street corners, the factory workers stumbled home with meager wages in their pockets while the factory owners considered what other expenses they could cut, and orphaned children took to the streets in steal whatever they could while their parents either rotted in the cemetery or drank themselves in that direction.

But with Albert, Arthur could also notice the advantages of the city, the good parts squished between prominent and the impoverished. After traveling between towns that normally contained a gunsmith and a general store, if he was lucky, Arthur had access to a wide variety of goods. He bought better pencils to draw with and updated his wardrobe. He explored several places specializing in shoes and saddles, but ended up putting in orders with the trapper at his main store in the market.

While Arthur was finding some fun, he could tell there was a strain on Albert's finances. The photographer was getting ready for an art show, which apparently meant spending time going over prints and negotiating gallery fees. Albert couldn't spend as much time taking pictures of paying customers. So when Arthur stumbled upon the shop of Algernon Wasp, full of rare flowers and the ugliest fashionable hats Arthur had ever laid eyes on, and the man offered him money for the simple task of egret feathers and Lady of the Night orchids, he agreed without thought. Forgetting, of course, that he would have to slog through the swamps to get them.

The low growl of another alligator sounded out close to him, and Arthur froze. Buried in the mud a few feet from him was yet another of those prehistoric monsters that Albert was so keen on preserving. Arthur understood protecting wild horses and had a respect for wolves, but gators? He would be glad to see them all gone! Yet he had lured one out so that Albert could take a photograph not long ago.

"What if I set up on the bank? Maybe one will swim by and poke it's head above water?" Albert had asked a week prior.

"Bad idea. Terrible idea. They creep up on you, you know. Don't want to see you get dragged into a death roll."

"Now, I know you are not the alligator's biggest fan, but did you know that in the last fifty years we've killed ninety percent of them?"

Arthur sighed. "You say that like it makes you sad."

"They are beautiful creatures!"

"And I would prefer if you didn't get eaten by one." Arthur looked up and down the bank, before spotting what he was looking for. "Let's take that boat out. I'll row, you take your pictures."

"Really? Do you think we can just borrow it?"

"We'll bring it back. Besides, you need the protection. The ten percent who survived, they're the nasty ones."

"You sure that you can row?"

"I'm fine! I promise," said Arthur, picking up the oars before muttering, "Mother hen"

"I heard that."

They moved out into the water, and Albert swayed slightly to the rocking of the boat, "Oh, I saw movement to the north of us, oh and to the west, and the northwest!

"Let's go look, then."

"When we find one, line me up so I can get the shot." Albert's eyes switched from the lens to the swamp, scanning for the hidden alligators. "But don't get too close, you'll scare them away."

"Close but not too close, got it. Just tell me where to stop." Turning the boat north, where Albert pointed out the first of the alligators, Arthur couldn't help but relate to Albert's excitement. It was practically seeping off his… friend? Lover? Their relationship was still rather new, he didn't quite know what to call it yet. A long time had passed since he last even thought about seeking a romantic partner.

And as much as Arthur loathed the idea of comparing Albert to his previous relationships, mainly Mary Gillis, it was hard not to. Albert and Mary both were from society. Both were absolutely clueless when it came to nature.

But the difference came in the fact that Albert was willing to try to change. Albert took Arthur's advice readily and enjoyed his different perspective, whereas Mary always wanted to change Arthur to fit her world. Mary always seemed to ask for favors. Albert never needed to ask.

They also met at different points in Arthur's life. Arthur considered himself to be a fool, but he wasn't that much a fool to not know that Dutch's opinions did have some influence on his younger self.

"Oh look, on that little beach. Boars! If we're in luck, an alligator won't be far away."

Arthur turned and followed Albert's eyes. "Saving alligators, but you don't mind that pork chop getting butchered?"

"Pork chop isn't in danger of extinction."

Arthur steadied the boat and got ready to wait, but they didn't have to wait for long. Just as one of the boars went to take a drink, and alligator surged out of the water and sunk its teeth into the boar's neck. The frightened prey squealed, but it was too late. Albert's flash went off as the alligator dragged its meal back into the water.

"We caught him! In the middle of his dinner. This is history making, truly. Nature in all its glory, and cruelty."

"And to think you wanted to stand on that bank!" Arthur said, turning the boat towards the next location.

"But I didn't! That's why I bring you along."

Arthur just shook his head and kept rowing while Albert kept talking. "Did you know," said Albert, "Last year they brought ten thousand skins out of the swamps of Lemoyne alone?"

"The gators got some catching up to do then."

"Cases, trunks, shoes, boots, belts… bibles even. They'll make anything out of gator leather that the market desire. Oh, over there in the cane-break! That's a likely spot for one."

Just as Albert had predicted, a gator was swimming across the channel. Arthur lined them up as well as he could and Albert took the photograph. "Can you get it?" he asked, and the flash a second later gave him the answer.

Albert stood up from his camera and watched the gator for a few seconds away from his camera lens. "Excellent. The beast in repose. All is calm as the predator lurks. I think one more photograph should do it, just to be safe. You know, in the season, there are more alligator hunters down here than, well, alligators."

"I did not know that." One thing Arthur learned about Albert is that the man enjoyed reading fact books. Arthur took after Hosea when he did read, preferring mysteries and adventure stories. He didn't need nature books because he could learn from the real thing. But Albert never had that opportunity, and while not all the knowledge he gained was practical for survival, it did increase his passion for his project. Though Arthur was certain that no amount of information would make him like alligators.

"There was even a tour company that let excursionists shoot from the deck of a paddle steamer. Chugged up the waterways and churned the whole bayous into mud! Thankfully the state legislature put a stop…"

"A paddle steamer? Seems safer than this rowboat at least!"

"Seventeen feet, nineteen feet, twenty one feet with a five foot head…"

"What are you mumbling about?"

"They found some big bulls in these parts, surely they did."

"There's twenty food gators here and us two idiots are sitting in a twelve food skiff."

"No, this is in the seventies, eighties… oh there! No, he's gone!"

A rather large gator, thankfully not the size of the monsters Albert described, darted back into the brush. Arthur stopped the boat by the shore while Albert peered into the grass.

"Al, if we stop too long, the locals are going to start getting curious."

"I know, I know. But if I could just get that fellow's likeness, it might just save him from the taxidermist. Could you, maybe, run in there and coax him out?"

"What!"

"Yes, just get his attention and then get back to the boat!"

Arthur looked at the alligator, with its large teeth and cold eyes, and then to Albert's eager face. He sighed. "Fine! You are lucky I like you."

The warm swamp water reached midway up his chest, and Arthur vowed to make Albert do the laundry later. He really hoped there were no alligators around besides the one he was about to walk up to. It was laying in the grass looking away from him, but turned too quick when Arthur got close.

"He's awake!" he shouted, turning and running back to the rowboat. "I hope you're slow," said Arthur, not wanting to look over his shoulder and check.

"In, in, in!" Albert cried, giving Arthur some indication of how close the monster was to eating him. "Jump in the boat!" And the flash went off a second before Arthur launched himself over the side and into relative safety. "Got him! What a specimen!"

Lungs heaving, Arthur laid along the small wooden bench when Albert turned to look at him. "I am not doing that for you again," he said, and Albert laughed. Leaving his camera on the tripod, Albert crawled over Arthur and kissed him, deep and passionate.

"You are wonderful, thank you!" Albert said when they broke apart. He leaned in again, but Arthur held him back with a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe we should wait until we are away from the twenty foot gators," he said.

"I told you, all the big ones are gone."

"Some of the locals might disagree. I've heard talk of a huge gator in these parts."

"Really? Do you think we could-"

"No," Arthur said, shaking his head. He gathered up the oars and started back to their horses, determined not to return any time soon. "We are not going after that!"

And yet, Arthur was back in the swamp. Not hunting gators for photography, of course, but near them. On foot, horseless. Could he really wish he was back in a city, of all places?

Considering the sun would start to set in another hour or two, he should really be turning back and finding Merlin. A few egret feathers and two orchids was all he had found for his efforts, and he was starting to wonder if this venture of Algernon Wasp's was worth it.

But it was more guaranteed than his job tracking down old gunslingers for that author, Theodore Levin. Recently, Arthur made the trek up to see Black Belle in her swampland hideout, unfortunately attracting some bounty hunters as well.

Glad that Albert stayed behind in the city that day, Arthur helped defend Miss Belle, but it didn't seem like she needed it! The entire place was rigged to explode, and as Arthur hit the various plungers littered around the porch at Miss Belle's direction, dead bounty hunters went flying through the air.

In the end, he got his picture and a story, but not the one that Mr. Levine was looking for. Jim 'Boy' Calloway sounded like he was a coward, and Arthur wasn't surprised. Gunslinger were still alive these days for a reason.

Still, the encounter went better than his one with Billy Midnight.

One morning, Arthur went to Rhodes, thankfully not to running into anyone from the gang. The helpful station worker let Arthur know that Billy Midnight would likely be in the next bar car that rolled through, and his prediction was correct. Midnight was slouched over the bar, stinking of liquor and downing even more. But asking Billy Midnight about his past provoked a sudden and frightened reaction, the man yelling about how he didn't shoot someone in his sleep. Billy led Arthur on a chase through the train that culminated on top of a freight car. Cornered, Billy Midnight attempted to draw on Arthur, but Arthur was faster. In the end, Arthur jumped from the train to avoid gaining a bounty on the dead gunslinger after taking the photograph, despite the fact that he only shot in self defense.

Hopefully his meeting with Emmett Granger would go better, if he ever got the chance to head back up north.

Evening crickets chirped more, and Arthur began to worry he was hopelessly lost without Merlin. That's when he spotted it in the distance. A cabin!

"Hello?" Arthur called out, but there was no answer. A cabin in the middle of the bayou, no horses or road to be seen? It was likely abandoned for a long time, but a single, lone lantern hung lit from the porch rafters. Arthur did check around the back for a boat before continuing on, but under the house was a rather strange sight. Bars lined the foundation, almost creating a cage with a dead alligator trapped inside.

The inside was even more weird! He wanted to run, but at the same time something compelled him to stay, to continue forward. Red curtains bathed the room in an almost bloody glow. Paintings of a buck, the same buck that haunted his dreams after he drank from that cauldron up in the Grizzlies, were scattered throughout the room. In the center of the room, and unfinished painting sat on display, the mass of black paint almost taking the shape of a… raven?

There was writing on the walls too, crudely carved into the wood. THE MOON WILL SHINE ON IN THE DARKNESS. THE WATER IS BLACK WITH VENOM. TOIL AND TROUBLE FOLLOW THOSE WHO DRINK THE WITCH'S BREW.

And the carvings were on the furniture, too. Arthur leaned forward over a side table.

THERE WAS A MAN CALLED
JIMMY BROOKS
WHO WAS ALWAYS
RUNNING INTO CROOKS
TILL ONE
CHASED HIM DOWN
AND HE HAD TO TALK
HIS WAY ROUND
THAT JIMMY ISN'T
AS DUMB AS HE LOOKS

He knew that name. Swore he would remember it. Jimmy Brooks, the man who recognized him from Blackwater and tried to run away, only to end up dangling off a cliff edge. Arthur had stood over him, questioned him, considered stepping on his fingers and letting him plunge to his death, but he hadn't. He helped the man back up, and Jimmy Brooks swore he wouldn't tell a soul about Arthur or his gang.

Arthur still had the pen, the steel one that supposedly nice and worth something. He never sold it, and his hand moved unconsciously to his satchel when he noticed movement in the tall mirror in the corner.

"Arthur Morgan," a deep voice sounded behind him. "I never expected to see you so soon."