Chapter 6

Conveniently - well that was what both Javier and Charles believed - along the way back from the mountain, they found themselves running into lone Deers.

Given John was on Arthur's horse, he selected Javier and Charles go. Unsurprisingly, they didn't argue. The two worked together well, and this was before Javier descended into madness.

Arthur pulled on the reins, deciding it was paramount to get John back, while they'd hunted. He made sure to be extra gentle with the ride, not jumping over rough edges and grounds, allowing John's fading into unconsciousness to be undisturbed. This resulted in him taking the longer way, but Charles and Javier caught up, corpses of Deers strapped on Taima and Boaz's rears as they carried their hunt back to the direction of Colter.

"How was your hunting expedition?"

"Javier learned well," Charles answered, a tone of dissatisfaction pouring into his voice, "though I do wish for you to teach you soon."

"We could in the future when little Johnny boy stops getting himself into these mishaps," he quipped 'bout John's survival streak.

The mostly unconscious John groaned at that moment. No matter what he told him or the others, Arthur did indeed care for the little fucker. If only Marston could just value his body more and work on his goddamn shooting, so Arthur didn't have to come to rescue him again and again.

For a long time, Arthur was angry 'bout him leaving 'cause of what happened to his son and woman. He knew how special it was to have both, what it was like to lose them, and regretted not being there for him. So, seeing John make almost the same mistake he did and even worse in some degree really ticked him off. He would have to whip John into shape of being a proper father, one of the people Arthur would pour much of his time into saving him.

John Marston was truly a man at the end of the day. He eventually recognized the mistakes he'd made and went on to make improvements. Was he the best father out there? Far from it, but he was better than Dutch. At least, John, being young and inexperienced, realized the flaws of his parenting, and did his best to make sure he was able to be there for them eventually. Hosea would have ultimately been proud of John and the man he'd became.

"Are you alright, vaquero? You have been acting strange. Is it only about Blackwater or is there something we should know about?" Concern lined Javier's features.

"No," he responded bluntly.

"What happened in Blackwater?" Charles asked. "I keep hearing this woman being mentioned. Heidi McCourt?"

Javier responded with an ounce of nonchalance, or denial. "Dutch killed a girl...in a bad way, but it was a bad situation."

"Bad enough to blow a woman's brains out?" Arthur couldn't help but reply sarcastically. Javier's hands tightened over the reins.

Javier replied with as much stoicism as he could, "We wouldn't have survived as long as we have without Dutch."

The last days of his life replayed in Arthur's head. His loyalty was what got him murdered. It would do so with Javier... eventually, 'cause that loyalty, everything he'd given Dutch, was wiped away by a rat. Even before TB, in Colter, he'd questioned Dutch from time to time, even though he'd deferred to his leadership naturally.

But Javier only rarely questioned him.

When the hell was Javier going to ever realize the truth 'bout what they were? See Dutch's delusions? Realize the truth about the man? Could he even ever go against him? Could he see the same thing as Arthur did, and would still follow Dutch long after his end?

It was almost like he was willing to look past the fact that she was an innocent bystander 'cause of the situation, contrary to Charles' reaction seemed to consist of doubt and displeasure.

Initially, Arthur believed Dutch had changed, had originally intended to achieve paradise, only for it to fall through at the end. But that couldn't be further from the truth.

So why did he still felt that ache in his chest whenever it came to Dutch van der Linde? Why couldn't it be easier? Then again, this whole journey wasn't meant to be.

He knew the answer. Dutch didn't change; all Micah did was reveal who he really was on the inside: a man who preached lies and false promises. No, Javier changed. He was watching the person he trusted, believed in, would follow through the gates of hell, fall apart in a rapid manner. His hero who he lived with just turned out to be a character, and everything he said he stopped for was nothing more than words. Most people took that very hard, and everyone would process that differently. The Mexican just bottled it up and decided to trust nobody and be close with nobody so he can't be hurt again. His history in Mexico wasn't pretty.

The gang failing apart hit Javier hard-harder than even Arthur and John, and just 'cause of living in delusions and dreams instead of having to face the fact that Dutch was a liar, he couldn't admit the flaws in his mentor.

"You should go to Dutch," Javier persisted, "he would help you. He always has." The concern in his eyes, and borderline disgust, Arthur could detect.

Arthur chose not to satisfy that with a response, thinking 'bout other things. In some ways, Heidi McCourt was a personification of the innocents killed in the trials and tribulations of the Van Der Linde gang as they sought for freedom and liberty and couldn't bear the brunt of accepting the moral facet that they were killers of the innocent and vulnerable, and embody the very type of frontier colonial brutality that they claimed to hate so much.

"I agree," Charles supported, and it took all within Arthur not to swallow the lump forming in his throat. The dark-skinned man didn't notice, and continued his supposed helpful advice, "I understand that you two are reasonably close. Maybe he can help you."

Of course, there was another problem. Arthur trusted Charles. He knew that the man was a great morally character, but he had no reason currently yet to doubt Dutch. That was the cruel reality. Not that Arthur could blame him. He, himself, was loyal to Dutch to the point where he'd refused to see through his bullshit 'till it became undeniable right in front of his face. The African-Native American was as loyal as Arthur from the beginning. They both noticed Dutch changing around the same time which was when they started doubting his judgment. Everyone made noise everywhere they went, which drew major attention to the gang. Bar fights, bank heists, shootouts, not to mention all the Cornwall attention. Literally everything the gang did was ringing the world's biggest dinner bell saying hey guys, we're over here. No, now we're over here.

Both of them were extremely loyal and dedicated people. Charles was a bit more reserved, and it was harder to earn his trust and loyalty, but, once you had it, he would take a bullet for you. Charles was a bit wiser with the loyalty he put in people. He was always more aware of Dutch and how he was "changing" during the first time around than Arthur was. He was more willing to admit something was wrong and to start questioning if following Dutch and being dedicated to him was a good choice. Granted, while he may not have been raised by the gang and been in it for 20+ years, Charles cared about as much for the gang members as Arthur did. Or at least, the people who managed to earn that, in his mind.

It did occurred to Arthur that Charles always expected better of Arthur compared to everyone else, but most of all, he respected Arthur so much 'cause Arthur treated him as a person despite his mixed heritage. Which couldn't be said for the likes of people like Micah or Bill, who were extremely derogatory towards him.

He was determined to save Charles 'cause he couldn't allow him to fall with the rest of the gang when Dutch's ever so wondrous plans came into flow. Hopefully, he didn't severely misjudged the man.

Something within Arthur told him it wouldn't take as much motivation, not like with some of the others, but still he had to be careful.

Arthur stopped thinking when they arrived back to Colter.

Pearson, who was already standing outside, waiting, moved up. "

"Found some wolves, Mr. Pearson, highly doubt everyone wants to taste Marston, so we decided to change the menu." Arthur offered dryly.

Pearson noted the dead Deers on the back of Boaz and Taima and nodded as both men took them off, the grimace clear across Charles' face. He'd still wondered how he'd gotten that injury in Blackwater.

Abigail was the first one to burst open the door. When she'd seen John, she was relieved and glad. Still, Arthur had to wonder why did she put up with him for so long.

"You're alive!" Abigail exclaimed in relief and moved over to the trio. "Oh, you're alive!"

Bill and Lenny also arrived and moved to extract John from the horse. Arthur wasn't going to allow them. He got off of the horse and slowly removed him with all of his strength, making sure to retract him safely. Several stunned stares awaited him as they all looked at the form of Arthur Morgan carrying John Marston. Some hadn't seen such a scene for a long, long time, and the public show of almost affection was just outright shocking. One, Hosea Matthews, joined them, his face dropped in shock, before a smile broke out on his lips.

Arthur ignored the stares and walked inside, passed Lenny and Bill who shared a stare at one another and shrugged at the same time in almost a comedic manner.

"Come on," Abigail shook her head, the shocked expression removed. "let's get him warm."

The idiot that was John Marston was settled on the bed inside the cabin. He was quickly tucked in with a blanket and they slowly placed a gauze on his head. The sleeping man looked peaceful in that moment, but Arthur still couldn't help a distinct shot of concern flowing through him at seeing him like this. He was alright. He would have to be okay. But it still didn't meant that he felt the screaming inside of him, the part of him that wished he went back before John went on top of that mountain and had a close encounter with the wolves. He would have gone in his stead if he had to. Goddamn it!

He still made sure he was rested close to the nearby fire place, wanting to guarantee that his body would get warm instead of colder.

Arthur noticed the brooding form of Abigail. Not that he could blame her. The man was a father. He also had to take better care of himself. He didn't want to be a father or didn't want to accept it. Too goddamn bad! Life was full of challenges.

"This is a new low," Abigail snapped at the unconscious Marston, hands clenched up into fists, likely wanting to throttle the idiot. She would never do it. She was too loyal to John for his own good. "-even for you."

"Why? You know Marston, Abigail?" Arthur smirked. "His survival streak is commendable."

Abigail nodded in agreement, her lips curling slightly. It wasn't exactly a smile.

"Uncle Arthur," the innocent voice stole his attention, "would my dad be alright?"

"Yes, Jackie," Arthur reassured, patting his hair softly, "just don't be an idiot like your pa and end up into these situations."

Jack laughed, much to his relief.

"Thank you, Arthur," Hosea said behind him.

"You got any other lost maidens need saving, old man?" Arthur replied sarcastically. After this morning, it was clear that the man had been worried about him. Arthur wasn't the type known for nightmares.

"Not today," Hosea retorted, smiling at this. He may be in the clear for the time being at his current behavior.

"You have talked to Dutch about our problems." He decided to bring back the root of conversation to the matter at hand.

"I was just discussing with Herr Strauss," Hosea informed him. "When the weather breaks…. I suppose we'll have to keep heading east."

"East?" Arthur repeated the word. He'd thought it an insane idea last time. That was when he'd believed that the problems at the Blackwater were the end of it. He shrugged. "I supposed it wouldn't be a bad idea. Moving into east with all of the civilization would be what the law wouldn't expect and maybe we can lay low."

"Hmm," Hosea responded after a second. "I thought you would have been one of those who wouldn't want to go."

"Blackwater-"

"Changed you, I know. I know." He waved his hands in front of himself. "But..."

Arthur ignored anything else the man may have said, thinking 'bout the circumstances.

The late 1890s have been very dangerous year. There was no avoiding it, and quite frankly Arthur didn't want to. Times were changing. If Dutch, Arthur, or anyone else had gathered up a powerful army of outlaws and somehow stood against the US government, it would just delay the inevitable. They would come back, stronger and more powerful than ever. Taking their losses and disappearing at least would allow them to live normal lives.

Besides, considering where they could move, Arthur came to three conclusions. Europe, New York, or Ohio. The Pinkertons were officially outlawed in the latter after the Anti-Pinkerton law when they killed supplied workers a few years back, and in the others, they were cracked down upon and not above the law.

Hosea coughed. He clawed at his chest for air like Arthur used to. The fact that he was sick reminded him of how much time the old man truly had left. He wrapped his arms around him and helped him breathe in the ways he used to do himself.

Hosea gagged slightly and sighed, finally breathing air inside. Only then, Arthur released him, solemn, dirty, empty...

"Just the cold out here." The closest to a reassuring smile fell across his lips. "This weather just ages you, I tell ya." He'd seen through the charade.

The man didn't want him, anyone in the camp, to get worried 'bout him. He wanted to be strong. The man was a lot like Micah without the rat aspect in his younger days, but he was humbled through time and became better.

It was also a reminder to how the Wild West was in the brink to death. Old breeds like Hosea were dying out one by one. But at least, he could give hopes for future generations before Hosea died. His death may be inevitable, but not everything needed to collapse before the man's very eyes. It would already be harsh with Dutch, extremely harsh.

He turned around and walked out of the cabin, noticing the two looming shadows of Dutch and Javier. The Mexican had his hand outstretched in front of his face and speaking in a hushed whisper, while Dutch nodded, his face troubled and... rigid as he glanced briefly at his direction...

A sign from the past, whenever Arthur and John told on one another to either of their father figures when the other created mischief, a sign that "they would need to have a talk".

A confrontation awaited.

Arthur's note: Gotta remember this is the chapter 1 gang, most would try to kill Arthur if he just walked up to Dutch or Micah (Dutch by association) and capped them.

I feel like healthy Arthur and Javier could actually rival each other. Remember Javier handled a military veteran with significant ease. Imagine if the two fought. Let's hope this is not foreshadowing. Lmao