Every time Charles saw Arthur he was riding a different horse. At first it didn't seem like anything. Arthur was likely finding horses, training them up and selling them for the highest price. But then Charles overheard Dutch harass Arthur about not putting anything into the camp funds.
Was Arthur building a side business but not giving the camp it's cut?
Now that did not sound like Arthur. Arthur was constantly bringing in meat for the camp. Using two or more horses to bring in big game and pheasants and rabbits. More often than not, the man was hauling in more food than needed. Pearson obviously didn't want to admit it but Charles got the impression the man simply didn't have enough recipes or room to cook all the meat Arthur was bringing in. The cook was just too embarrassed and out of his depth to admit otherwise but Charles and some of the others had noticed the meat buried out behind his wagon.
On top of that, each time Charles saw Arthur, he looked more haggard and weary, more and more undone and exhausted. He looked thinner than usual and his clothes were worn and unkempt. His hair was becoming long and wild. He was clearly working hard, so that begged the question, what was he doing?
Normally Charles was not the sort to get involved. Whatever Arthur was up to was his business... And yet curiosity drove him to inquire as to how Arthur had come across such a gorgeous White Arabian. To which Arthur's replied, "well, found him up in Coulter and after being stuck up there myself, I figured I just couldn't leave um." Charles had intended to question him further but Arthur quickly excused himself, saying he was close to finding the location of some local treasure. Should be a good haul he had said... except Charles was beginning to doubt if Arthur was even donating to the camp anymore.
It bothered Charles more than a bit to doubt the word of his friend. Charles knew Arthur was a better person than a low life lier but Arthur's decisions were his own and so Charles tried to let the matter drop... except the next time he saw Arthur, he was riding a Strawberry Ardennes.
So finally, his curiosity and concern nagging him, Charles couldn't stop himself when he saw Arthur sneak out of camp the next night. Charles unrepentantly hopped on Taima and chased after him. He tracked the man to a glade south of Rodes and just past the lining of trees Arthur dismounted... And Charles was stunned.
Horses EVERWHERE!
There must have been hundreds of horses surrounding the cowboy as Charles rode up.
"Arthur!" he called, no longer willing to remain silent about his friend's odd behavior. "What the HELL are you doing?"
Arthur whipped around, hands still stroking the neck of a Blond Chestnut Belgian Draft. "Charles, um ah." he fumbled for an explanation. "See I was-"
Charles hopped off Taima and began wading through the sea of horses.
"See, I I found um and Valentine stables were all full up as was Strawberry and the one North of Emerald Ranch and the one in Annesburg... and Saint Denise."
As Charles neared he simply leaned on one leg and crossed his arms to get his point across and Arthur stopped.
"Arthur, my friend, You have a problem."
Arthur just hung his head, "I know. But I just can't choose. Every horse I meet along the way, I just wanted to keep um all, ya know?" The cowboy looked up expectantly, hoping to be understood.
Charles let out a sigh. "I know you love horses but this isn't right. It's not fair to them and it's not healthy for you. Look at you! You must be spending every waking moment hunting and robbing just to feed them."
Arthur just sighed, refusing to look at Charles and instead lovingly stroked the neck of a nearby Blue Roan Nokota. "I just can't find any horse to replace Boadicea. Even with all these horses, I just can't do it."
"Oh Arthur," Charles said walking close enough to put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "It's not about replacing her, it's about finding a horse to carry on what she couldn't finish. She would want you to have a good horse because that is what you deserve... but Boadicea would not want this." Charles said gesturing to the horses all around them. "I'll help you, Arthur, if you let me." Charles offered.
To which Arthur readily agreed.
Despite having his cooperation, it still took Charles quite a while to convince Arthur to limit himself to a reasonable number of horses. Eventually, they decided on four. And after far more debate than Charles considered necessary, Arthur eventually narrowed down his final four to the Gold Turkoman, the Revers Dapple Roan Nokota, the Black Arabian, and the Amber Champagne Missouri Foxtrotter. All equally impressive horses in Charles opinion.
Arthur and Charles then spent the following weeks selling off all of Arthur's other horses and rehousing them to good owners. The money was then divided between Arthur and the camp funds. Dutch's jaw about dropped off when Arthur handed him the sack of bills that made a bank heist look like petty theft. (and that was just the money that couldn't fit in the lockbox.)
Afterwords, Arthur admitted he felt much better having fewer horses to maintain and wasted no opportunity at repaying Charles for his generous intervention. As for Charles, he found his reward in seeing Arthur so happy. Arthur was healthier and stronger, well-rested and in much better spirits.
And so, thanks to Charles, Arthur's problems were solved... that is until Hamish died. With his last breath, the hunter begged Arthur to take care of Buell; his Cremello Gold Dutch Warmblood... Now I ask you, How was Arthur suppose to refuse a man's dying wish?