When Ethan finally arrived back at camp, it was a little after dark. There was a large fire already ablaze and Dutch's irritating Victrola on full blast. He slowed Gray down near the other horses and jumped down. He could already hear Sean's big mouth over the music. As he unsaddled Gray, he heard laughter and cheers from behind him. He was relieved that everyone else was relaxed, it was a long time coming. And after everything they've endured, it was well deserved. Ethan hoisted the saddle off Gray and draped it on the hitch. He offered Gray a sugar cube, then wiped his hands off on his pants.
Ethan walked to his tent to change his shirt and replace his weaponry, considering he didn't need it right now. He needed ammo first and foremost, before he could carry a gun. He'd reload in the morning on his way to town.
"Etan Morgan!"
He rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. Sean was swaying with a bottle in his hand, yelling incoherent things around camp. He was such an embarrassment. Dutch stepped out of his tent, an enormous smile on his aging face. He puffed on his cigar and when he noticed Ethan, he approached him.
"You're in a good mood." Ethan pointed out.
"I am, son, I am," He chuckled. "Let's have some fun tonight, alright? I just had to tell your Pa to let loose."
Ethan smirked. "Cut from the same cloth we are."
"Took the words right out of my mouth."
Suddenly, a very drunk Sean stumbled over to Strauss' wagon and stood on an overturned crate. Everyone knew what was coming and as frustrating as it was, they encouraged him. But they were just as drunk as him.
"Speech, speech!"
Tilly rolled her eyes. "No speeches!"
Karen laughed. "Don't listen to her, speech!"
"Make it quick, you fool!" Abigail shouted.
"Uncle Sean is back–" He slurred, waving his arm. "And don't you worry, Miss Grimshaw, you old crone. I'll keep them gals in line - if I have to whip'em myself, I will!"
"Yeah I'd like to see you try."
Ethan shook his head, as he grabbed a beer from the crate.
"And don't you worry, Mr. Pearson, you drunk old shit bag. It'll be nothing but the finest game in the pot, now that deadeye Macguire's back!" He keeled over laughing. "Don't worry 'bout nothing Miss Grimshaw, we'll have this camp running like clockwork. Heh...I love you bastards. Have fun...Have lots of fun!"
"That wasn't too bad." Arthur said from behind.
Ethan turned. "Bad enough. He insulted the two people who can kill him."
"We can kill him just as easy as them, though–" He leaned against the wagon. "I reckon it's easier when you control the food and everything that comes into camp."
"My point exactly."
"How was it?" He asked, taking a long swig of his beer.
"Rough. I was convinced we weren't gonna make it at some point."
Arthur shook his head. "I wish you'd let me go with you sometimes. I got what you don't - experience."
"It didn't matter, there were too many of them. We ran outta ammo right in the middle of the fight–" He took a swig and grimaced. "Wheew, this is strong."
"It's good beer."
Ethan shrugged. "Anyway, they backed off after we used the last of the ammo. So they saw us, they knew it was us and they're probably plotting our death."
"Hell...they ain't plotting, they're planning."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference?" Arthur bristled. "Plotting just means they don't know how to kill you, planning means they know."
Ethan stared in shock.
"One also gives you more time than the other."
"Well that doesn't make me feel any better."
"It shouldn't." He took another swig of his beer. "The moment you let your guard down or feel safe, that's when they strike. They wait for that precise moment, because they know it works."
Ethan shook his head as he looked across camp, eyes searching for Mary-Beth, who was sitting near the fire with Abigail. He turned back to his Pa.
"I guess you do have more experience."
He chuckled. "Maybe not in the area you're looking for, but with everything else...yeah."
"And what area are you talking about?"
He nodded toward the young brunette. "I don't know much about them, but I do know they like it when you take a chance on them."
Well that was more than he ever expected coming from his father. He was never one to open up and he never knew why, but now he did. Arthur Morgan was experienced in most avenues of life, except when it came to women. So naturally he shed away from the topic. It was hard to believe there was one thing his father was not good at, especially when he had two children with two different women. He had a younger brother, Isaac, who he had only met twice before his untimely death. His mama, Eliza, didn't like him around the gang and after recent events, he understood her concerns.
He traveled with his father twice to meet his brother, once when Isaac was just born and once a few months before he was killed. He was four years older than Isaac, so he didn't quite understand what happened to him. His father tried to explain it the best he could, but he hadn't accepted it yet and when he did, he blamed himself. When he was around nine, he overheard him speaking with Hosea about Isaac and Eliza. He not only blamed himself, he said he wished she had come with him when he asked. He could've protected them both or at the very least, had plenty of eyes to watch over them if he wasn't there.
Everyone knew it wasn't his fault except him, and Ethan was pretty sure he'd blame himself until the day he died. That's just how he was. He may not show it everyday, but the pain was still there. Ethan liked to believe that was the reason behind his distance.
"Ethan."
He turned. "Hey Hosea."
"I heard it got pretty rough out there?"
He heaved a sigh. "Ain't it always?"
Hosea smiled. "When it comes to us, yes."
"I'm going into town for more ammo."
"Good–" He nodded. "Thank you for risking your life for that little Irish shit."
Ethan shrugged. "I appreciate being needed."
"Well being needed and used are two different things."
"I don't think I follow?"
Hosea waved his hand. "Being needed is fine, just don't let anyone use your services. Take Sean for example...he needed us to save him and we did, but if we needed him, he wouldn't know his ass from a hole in the ground."
Ethan snickered.
"Always help those who'd be willing to lay down their life for you."
"Solid advice."
"And you heard it here first...so don't let Dutch swindle you into thinking he thought it up."
"You have my word." Ethan chuckled.
"Have a good night, kid."
He tipped his beer bottle. "You too, Hosea."
Ethan took another swig of his beer, only to realize it was empty. He grunted to himself, not remembering when he drank it all? It must've been during his chat with his Pa. It was so unexpected he didn't know what to do. He pushed off the hitch post and strolled towards the food wagon, when he heard God awful noises coming from John's tent. At first it sounded like John was having a good time, but then he heard another voice join in. He scanned around camp looking to see if it was, in fact, John, though he came up short. He knew right off the bat that it wasn't Abby, because she was with Jack near the horses.
He didn't want to leer, but he was curious. Then he heard it and it made him cringe; the unmistakable Irish accent of none other than Sean Macguire. He couldn't pinpoint the female companion though, but...she sounded familiar to him. He suddenly spun around, already thinking the worst, only to be instantly reassured when he saw her lounging on her bedroll, writing in her diary. "Shit." He mumbled.
He heard some fumbling and quickly scrambled away, not wanting Sean to make a lewd comment about him being a voyeur, because he would and Ethan was most definitely not. He rounded the back of the tent and came face to face with Karen...well he wasn't expecting her.
"Oh hey."
"Miss Jones."
She scooted on by and if he wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw a blush. He couldn't help but smirk, he knew that Karen and Sean liked each other, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. If anything he felt bad for John and Abby since they're the ones who have to sleep in that tent later.
"Young Etan Morgan!"
"Sean."
"Had me a little performance...sorry ya missed it."
He scoffed. "Well we all heard–"
"Heh, ya woulda been proud."
"Sean...you and me have different ideas of fun."
"That's for sure!"
As Sean stumbled away, Ethan turned and made his way to the food wagon. He needed a few beers to wash away the ick he felt. At least when Dutch and Molly...performed marital duties, they were gracious enough to get a room in town. Sometimes they were just that quiet that no one knew. He didn't think Hosea was interested ever since Bessie passed and his Pa, well...Ethan didn't want to even think about that. He grabbed another beer and was headed for his tent when Lenny snuck up behind him and put him in a playful chokehold.
"What the hell?"
"I'm glad you made it back."
"Yeah you coulda just said that."
Lenny laughed. "Don't be such a stick in the mud."
"I'm not–" He fixed his collar. "Where've you been?"
"Down by the river...thinking."
"Don't go down there alone anymore."
"I was washing up...didn't think you wanted to watch."
Ethan snorted. "No I don't, it's just far from camp and we all need to stay close."
Lenny laughed. "I know, I'm just playin' with you."
Ethan took a long swig from his beer. Lenny looked up at the star lit sky, stuffed his hands in his pockets, then turned to Ethan - who stood there waiting.
"We should do something."
"Like what?"
"Poker–"
"No! You stole all my money last time."
Lenny smirked. "Alright then, how about that knife game Micah taught us?"
"Anything he teaches I don't wanna learn."
"C'mon! It's fun–"
"Since when?"
"Since I tried it!"
Ethan was skeptical of anything Micah suggested. He was a snake and would take any opportunity to strike. And not to mention, he didn't like colored people, so it was no surprise that he would teach Lenny the knife game, hoping that he would hurt himself.
"We'll see about that."
"Or we can play the drinking game?"
He raised a brow. "Which one?"
"We try to name all the states and each capital and if we mess up we have to drink."
"That sounds a lot safer than the knife game."
"So it's a go then?"
"Yeah sure, why not?"
Lenny clapped his hands together. "Yes! I'll go grab the whiskey and a map."
Ethan chuckled and shook his head. He never played the states drinking game before, but he was up for the challenge. Everyone always made up new games, once the old games grew tiresome. Ethan even made up a few, although he'd never admit to such. As he walked to the table, Lenny came out from behind a wagon with two bottles of whiskey. Obviously they couldn't play out in the open, because they would have an audience or have booze hounds lurking.
"We need to go somewhere quiet. These fools'll take everything we have."
Lenny chuckled. "Yeah you're probably right. C'mon, I think the ledge is desolate."
They snuck away from the party and made their way to the ledge. He was hoping no one saw them, because they didn't have enough alcohol for everyone. Ethan plopped down against the tree as Lenny loomed over the edge.
"Thought you wanted to sit by the ledge?"
"I am by the ledge."
Lenny snickered. "Scared?"
"Ha! No. I just don't think us drinking and hanging out by a ledge is exactly smart."
"That's true. I'll be careful though."
"Just don't fall, cause I ain't coming after you."
"That ain't right."
Ethan popped the cork off the bottle with his teeth. "Let's start this game."
"Alright...New York."
"Albany–" He tipped the bottle. "New Jersey?"
"Trenton."
Ethan looked down. "Yep, looks right."
"You don't know?"
Ethan snorted. "Can't see too well out here."
Lenny rubbed his hands together. "Alright, alright...Maryland?"
"Hmm, D.C?"
He glanced down at the map, the lantern beside him illuminating the answer. "Nope, drink!"
"Great." Ethan tipped the bottle back and felt the burn as the liquid slid down his throat.
"Keep that up, you'll be drunk before you get to Florida."
Ethan snickered. "Alright, North Carolina?"
"Raleigh."
"Shit how'd you know that?"
He shrugged. "Got some kin in that area."
"Ah...well your turn."
Lenny looked down. "Tennessee?"
Ethan grabbed the bottle and took a swig.
"Didn't know it?"
"Nope," He rasped. "I figured I'd save myself the humiliation."
He laughed and pointed. "Your turn."
"Texas."
Lenny raised a brow. "Hmm...uh, Blackwater?"
Ethan tossed his head back with a laugh. "Wrong!"
"Damn, I was doing so good too."
"Too good."
After a while of going back and forth with the game, now both equally drunk and stupid, they stumbled back to camp. They made sure to dispose of the empty whiskey bottles over the ledge; out of sight, out of mind. Everyone was still dancing to Dutch's obnoxious Victrola, laughing, drinking and playing various card games. It was as if they didn't even know they were gone from the party, which wasn't a slight, they were just too drunk to care.
"Wanna grab a game of poker?" Lenny asked.
"Nah I am way too fucked to be losing money–" He leaned against the wagon wheel. "I'm just gonna relax a bit."
"Yeah I should probably splash some water on my face."
"Good ya smell like a damn horse."
Lenny chuckled. "As if you smell any better!"
"I drank more than you, so I smell like whiskey."
"That just means you're dumb as shit."
Ethan shoved Lenny. "You ain't so smart either!"
"Smarter than you."
"Yeah yeah, go take a bath ya horse."
As Lenny stumbled away laughing, Ethan lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. They were heavy and so was he. He might've had too much fun with the game, but any reason to drink these days was a good day for him. Ethan looked up and saw the few around the fire were beginning to sing. He stood up and wobbled over, using the wagon for support. Javier was strumming on the guitar, John was three sheets to the wind, slurring his words, Bill was lounging against a crate, Uncle was singing and stinking up the great outdoors. It was nice to be around family, he thought.
The ring dang doo, now what is that?
It's soft and round, like a pussycat
Got a hole in the middle, and it's split in two
And that's what ya call the ring dang doo
A hand clamping down on his shoulder nearly had him jumping out of his skin. He turned and saw Arthur sipping a bottle of beer.
"How much have ya had tonight?"
Ethan snickered. "A...lot, I think."
"You think? Why don't you know?"
He shrugged.
Arthur heaved a sigh. "What'd I tell you about that?"
"You're drinking."
"I'm older than you." Arthur chuckled. "You even know what you're singing?"
"Sure. I know some."
He raised a brow. "Yeah - like what?"
He smirked. "I'm not telling you."
"Mhm."
As the song came to an end, everyone around the fire was in a fit of laughter, whether they knew what they were laughing at or not. This didn't happen often, so when the opportunity arose, they took it and they enjoyed themselves to the fullest.
"Go get some sleep." Arthur suggested.
"I'm not tired yet."
"You will be. Whiskey takes a lot outta ya."
Ethan blushed. "How'd you know?"
Arthur snickered. "I pulled the same shit you pulled when I was your age."
"Oh."
"Splash some water on your face and go to sleep. You'll have a headache tomorrow for sure, but...you'll have another drink and feel better."
"Alright."
Ethan stumbled back to his tent, when he had a better idea. He walked over to the tree he was sitting under earlier, figuring the wind would help him sober up. He should probably listen to his father, but he was too stubborn to listen. He plopped down and rested his arm on his propped knee, letting the cool breeze whip around him. It was refreshing, he mused.
"Hey."
He looked up and saw Mary-Beth rounding the tree, her pink shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
"Hey." He smiled.
Mary-Beth sat down beside him, leaning her elbows against her knees. He felt himself beginning to sober up and he didn't follow one thing his father recommended. Apparently Mary-Beth was the cure to his drunkenness.
"I didn't see you earlier. I was gonna ask if you wanted to dance."
He blushed. "Oh...I was playing some dumb game with Lenny."
She giggled. "Really? What was the game?"
"Naming the states and their capitals and if we get it wrong, we have to drink. And well–" He breathed a laugh. "I am really stupid."
She playfully shoved his arm. "Oh stop."
"Geography was never my thing."
"Me neither."
They sat there, a few seconds of silence feeling like a lifetime.
"Listen–" She turned to him. "I'm glad you made it back safely...Sean too, but he's back to his old antics again, so I don't know how I feel about that."
"I'm glad to be back. I honestly didn't think I was gonna make it back."
"I know, I heard your pa and Dutch talking."
"Oh yeah?"
She smiled.
"Well I hope it wasn't too bad?"
"No...but they said you all wasn't gonna make it back, if those tan coats didn't retreat."
Ethan frowned and looked down. "Well it weren't that bad."
He lied because he didn't want to think about how close to death he came, and he didn't want Mary-Beth to think about it either, but it was clear that she was and now he was. "Alright...it was bad." He admitted.
"Well it's never good with you boys."
He smirked and looked away.
Mary-Beth smiled and scooted closer. Ethan turned back and was suddenly very aware of how close she was to him. It didn't bother him, no, it excited him more than he cared to admit. She placed her hand on top of his, which just so happened to rest on his thigh. He looked up and they locked eyes.
She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, which took him by surprise. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, taking over where she started. A cool breeze whipped through them, but it did nothing to stop them. Ethan placed his hand on her waist, pulling her close, as the kiss deepened. And just as his tongue traced her bottom lip, she pulled away with a blush. He lowered his head, his own face very red and warm. Probably warmer since he had far too much whiskey in his system.
"I've been wanting to do that for a while–" She admitted. "But I never had a reason until I saw you put the pen on my pillow."
"Oh. You saw that?"
"Yeah...I wanted to thank you."
"So the kiss was a thank you?"
She offered a cheeky grin. "Well I've been wanting to kiss you, I just ain't never had a good reason. I doubt you wanted me to just come up and kiss you."
He snorted a laugh. "You didn't need a reason to kiss me."
Now she was the one blushing, her cheeks no longer pink, but red. He sat back against the tree with a sly grin, watching as she tried to compose herself. There was a stretch of silence for a few minutes and it made him uncomfortable, but he understood their relationship was taking a new turn and it was bound to conjure up mixed emotions. However, it was nice to know that feelings were mutual.
"I'll remember that." She whispered, then stood up and brushed off the skirt of her dress. "I'm gonna try and get some sleep, maybe."
"Well good luck."
She snickered. "You should too - you had a lot to drink tonight. Lenny ain't doing too well either last I saw."
"Yeah well...he ain't too smart, that's his problem."
She raised a brow. "Huh?"
"Uh...nothing." He chuckled to himself.
"Alright then...get some sleep."
"Thanks. Night, Mary-Beth."
"Goodnight."
He watched her walk away, hips sashaying from side to side, almost taunting him. And maybe if he was sober he'd chase after her, but he was far too drunk to even attempt it. So he just sat against the tree, relishing the moment he and Mary-Beth had, a stupid smirk on his face as the morning sun began to rise.
—
May 26, 1899
Well we're alive and so is Sean, minus a tooth. He's such a pain in the ass, but I'm glad he's back. He, for some reason, is essential to the gang. Not my personal opinion, but Dutch's. Had a nice little (long) party for Sean, that lasted the entire night. It grew tiresome when the whiskey wore off, especially that damn Victrola! But I'm not complaining too much, I finally got somewhere with Mary-Beth and for that, I am grateful for Sean's return.
I left her a fountain pen on her pillow yesterday morning, tried to be discreet but she saw me without me even realizing and she thanked me for it...with a kiss, that turned a little heated and if it wasn't for her sobering thoughts, we might've done it right under the tree. Not sure what this means going further, but I'm excited now. Everytime I see her I get stupid and my stomach knots up. I didn't eat this morning and people are starting to wonder, my Pa especially.
I think I'm in love...Actually I AM in love with Mary-Beth. I just don't know how to tell her or anyone for that matter, I guess just take it slow. But the fact of the matter is, everyday isn't a guarantee. We can be gone in the blink of an eye.
Maybe I should talk to my Pa? He's been in love a few times, at least once - my Ma. He, if anyone, would know how I should go about this. Hell, he might suggest I marry Mary-Beth and leave the gang. And after all that's happened, it's definitely an option.
Probably should see how this kissing thing goes first, before I start thinking of marriage. But it's gonna be hard in this mess, knowing everyday isn't promised - every hour, actually. I think we can do it though, me and her, just gotta work hard at it. Thing is, she's shy in general, I'm shy when it comes to women. So that could be a problem. We'll see what happens, I guess.
Anyway, I'm sober now, but I still reek of whiskey, so I'm probably gonna take a bar of soap and go jump in the river. It's freezing, so it'll be a quick trip.
P.S Lenny is still mad and calling for a rematch - ha, don't think so!
E.M
