Evelyn and Charles had been up as soon as the sun had risen, and to their dismay Arthur was still missing. So, together they set off to where Arthur had last been seen. Evelyn wasn't anywhere close to being a tracker, and to be honest she doubted she was any help at all to Charles who intently examined the dirt, the woods, and their surroundings with some sort of expertise. As the sun rose higher in the sky they made little progress.
"This is where Dutch said Arthur was on the lookout. " Charles said, again, as they'd circled back to the same spot for the third time. She wasn't sure if he was talking to her or just trying to straighten his thoughts aloud. They'd deemed by the multiple hoof prints in the dirt that there was more than one person in that spot at one time. They were able to follow the trail until it hit the main road. From there translation was lost to time as other riders and wagons wiped the slate clean.
"Maybe we should just follow the main road for a while, see if we see anything out of the ordinary. It's worth a shot, at least." Evelyn suggested. Charles nodded and they headed down the road. They travelled in silence for a while, both of them silent as they focused intently on their surroundings.
"You seem hell bent on finding Arthur." Charles commented. Evelyn startled slightly at the sound.
"Aren't you?" She asked him, confused by his statement. Of course she was trying to find him. Charles shook his head, his long brown hair contained in a ponytail fell across his shoulder.
"Of course. But I've known Arthur a long time, and usually the women leave the men to do the work but you were up before I was. I'm just curious as to why." Evelyn wasn't sure where he was going with this. She didn't understand why people were so interested in her.
"Arthur's a good man, and he's helped me and my daughter out more than I can ever repay. I would do the same if it were you who was missing, Charles." She said resolutely. Charles hummed and turned his attention back to the road.
"Wait... Evelyn, do you see that?"
Evelyn strained her eyes against the sun to look at where he was pointing. She gasped.
"Is that..?"
Arthur's vision swirled. In. Out. In. Out. There was an odd black-red tinge at the edges and he tried rubbing his eyes before he cried out in pain. His shoulder flared in white hot agony, slightly waking him and reminding him again that he'd just escaped the clutches of the O'Driscolls. He groaned and keeled forward resting his upper body against his horse. His chest swelled as he absently stroked the mares neck. Those men were fools for bringing her along, as he was sure he'd have never gotten away if it wasn't for the steel reserve and loyalty his horse had.
He had to get home. Had to see the folks he'd grown to love as family, Dutch, Hosea, hell even John. He wondered, somewhat bitterly, if Dutch had even been looking for him, or if he even sent anyone to look for him. He wasn't sure if that meeting was a set up by Micah and Dutch or not. He figured probably not, seeing as how it was Pearson who'd instigated the 'parley' between the two gangs and he knew Pearson was probably too dumb to even think of such a thing.
He lifted his head to look at his surroundings and nearly cried when he realized the path ahead of him was familiar. He was close to home. Midnight had dutifully carried him from the O'Driscoll camp all the way back home without any guidance. He promised that if he lived through this he'd give her all the apples a horse could ask for.
As his vision left him once more he idly wondered if Evelyn had found the necklace he'd left for her. He felt like a fool not giving it to her in person, now. As his conscious left him he heard the very woman call his name, and he smiled. He didn't mind dying with her voice being his last earthly experience.
Evelyn unwrapped the dressing from the grizzly wound for the third time that night. Being one of the few members of the gang with any medical knowledge Dutch had tasked her to look over Arthur as he ever so slowly recovered from his wounds and the deadly infection that had taken over him. For a while they were preparing to bury the man, as he flirted with death multiple times. Evelyn couldn't sleep, dedicating her time to watching Arthur's chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. Every once in a while Charles and sometimes Hosea would cover for her so she could cuddle with Annabell and rest which she was grateful for though she rarely got more than a few hours of sleep. She was relieved when the infection had seemed to tire and left the man to heal.
The wound on his shoulder was grim and would leave a nasty scar once it healed. She admired the strength it must've took him to pry out the bullet and then cauterize it, which she shuddered to think of what would've happened if he wouldn't have. She guessed the cauterizing is what narrowly saved him from dying before he even got back home. She poured alcohol on a cloth pad then used it to gently tap away at the wound, cleaning it as much as she could. Once it was clean she reapplied a medicinal salve that Hosea made before bandaging it back up. She was worried that since getting back home he hadn't woken up for a week, besides a few feverish episodes where he'd seem to gain consciousness just to fall back into slumber a few seconds later. Though she supposed those precious seconds were a good sign that he was on the right path to recovery.
Often times Dutch would join her by Arthur's side. He'd hold the man's hand and hang his head low. Evelyn could see the guilt in his eyes and her heart hurt for him. He'd stay with her for an hour, sometimes more, and would recant memories of finding Arthur as a child and raising him as his own. Sometimes it was her who would tell stories, telling Dutch about her childhood seemed to please him and ease the pain of his guilt for a small amount of time. Hosea would join in when he could, as he too seemed wracked with guilt and grief for the boy.
"An odd couple and their unruly son." He'd said, describing life when he and Dutch had raised Arthur. She did all she could to reassure them that Arthur was going to be just fine. They appreciated her efforts. Annabell would cautiously walk up to Arthur's side, asking Evelyn if he was sick. She'd answer her as delicately as she could, and the girl listened intently. When Arthur's condition improved she'd even curl up at his side and read aloud out of her nursery book. Often times Evelyn would fall asleep at his side, her head on his cot and her hand resting on his chest as if to stay alert to the rise and fall and the pitter patter of his heart.
At the two-week mark Arthur woke, this time fully coherent and unfortunately also fully aware of his pain. When he was awake everyone wished to be at his side to update him on the camp's activities and to just chat with him and make sure he was feeling well. Evelyn usually was only able to return to his side at night when he'd seemed to have fallen asleep. She didn't mind, it gave her more time to be with Annabell during the day when she was actually awake, instead of crawling into bed with her already asleep and leaving again before she woke. Evelyn felt awful for how little time she was able to spend with the girl as she cared for Arthur.
"Thinkin' hard?" Arthur called to her softly, pulling Evelyn out of her thoughts. She looked to him with an unserious glare.
"Someone has to." She joked. Arthur chuckled then winced as the action jostled his shoulder. He was close to being cleared from bed rest, but his shoulder was still very sore and he'd occasionally catch a brief fever on the colder nights. She brought up his blankets higher to his chest, just in case.
"You worried everyone, Arthur." She whispered, gazing over him as if to make sure he was still alive. Arthur grunted.
"I'm sorry, Miss." He apologized. Evelyn shook her head.
"You can be sorry when you get back to your normal self, you brute." She scolded half-heartedly. Arthur patted her hand, which rested on his cot.
"With such good help I'll be up and kickin' in no time."
"Don't forget Reverends prayers as well." She laughed. Arthur chuckled.
"I'm not quite sure but I think he slipped me some of his 'secret medicine' he keeps in his bible."
It was no secret that Reverend Swanson had a peculiar addiction, and it certainly wasn't to pouring over his bible in the woods. Evelyn shook her head, if he'd given Arthur a shot from his syringe she certainly wasn't going to tell him off for it. It probably worked wonderfully to help with pain.
"We ought to go to bed, Mr. Morgan." Evelyn said, raising up from her seat besides Arthur's bed. There was no reason for anyone to watch over him now that he was nearly fully healed. Arthur snatched her wrist. She looked down at his hand surprised then back at him, who looked as equally as surprised by his own actions. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Uh... You don't have to leave. If you don't want to, I mean. Not that I think you'd want to stay, but, just in case-" He stuttered. Evelyn quirked an eyebrow at him, her heart fluttering in her chest. She nodded and sat back down, and they sat in comfortable, if not a bit awkward, silence as Arthur drifted off to sleep.
She looked at her wrist, and to his hand that was still wrapped around it and smiled. She rested her upper body on his cot and soon fell asleep.
