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Chapter 15

'Well, here we are. Back at Horseshoe Overlook. Last time, I was disgusted with coming into civilization. Hell, Hosea even mentioned once that we would have been to New York by Christmas. Oh, if only he knew what bullshit Dutch would have gotten us wrapped up in the following months. That aside, I made the occasional trip to Valentine during a few times in the past couple of days, mostly for supplies, but there was no rest for anyone 'till all tents and supplies were where they belonged. At least, Kieran ain't tied up this time around, and the women actually seem to enjoy his presence. This way, John gets more rest, everyone's safe, and I can plan.'

Arthur set aside his writing utensil and closed the journal, placing it inside of his satchel. He pushed up from the wood he was sitting on and walked inside of the camp. Since his recent change in attitude that most of them ain't seen coming, the reactions were mixed.

The likes of Dutch, Micah, and Javier were actively eyeing him, but none said anything to him yet. Others like Lenny, Hosea, and most of the women-aside from Molly who still were chasing after Dutch in her delusions, treated him like all was normal.

He could see the looks in Dutch and Javier's eyes. They were the same as they were back in Beaver Hollow. The faint distrust. The wonder of what happened to his loyalty. The disgust of him questioning Dutch.

Arthur wasn't exactly helping himself for sure.

But he ain't found any reason to care.

Not now as he'd moved over and carried two sacks to the provision wagon, loaded two bales to feed to the horses, a bucket of water to carry to the provision wagon and top off a wash barrel and 5 logs to split. It was a routine he had made. To take away the burden from the women at camp. His heart opened to the world, he didn't want to leave them to do all of the chores.

Since Kieran gained some esteem around the camp already, he was positioned next to the camp stables-a good move by Dutch. Seriously, Arthur didn't know what the fuck Dutch and Hosea were thinking having Kieran doing camp guarding when it was known that he wasn't able to even rival the likes of John or Lenny yet. He'd needed training before he did such ever again.

He walked inside of the tent where Marston was resting in. The man was conscious, his wounds healing somewhat, but there was still a long way to go.

"Anything interesting happened when I was out, Morgan?"

"Nothing worthwhile you being eaten by wolves," he replied.

"I wish Dutch would just let me leave." John grumbled with distaste. The decision to force Johnny boy to rest was another thing that Arthur'd agreed with Dutch 'bout.

"Dutch is right, Marston, you have a son. It's time for you to worry more 'bout those duties."

"If he's mine," John responded with no small amount of venom.

"That's just an excuse to ignore the fact that you've gotten a little too fancy down there with Abigail, boy," Arthur responded, not having the patience to deal with this bullshit. "He is yours. He looks like you. You just don't want to take the responsibility."

"-Pfft, now you're sounding like Hosea. He had been nagging like a wife to me 'bout this too." The younger man groaned. "Ya know, ya care so much 'bout the boy, why don't you raise him?"

"Are you serious?" Arthur asked, glaring at him full-attention.

"Deathly so, Morgan."

"You're such a goddamn idiot, Marston, take on the responsibility. Those twenty minutes of pleasure turned out to be an eighteen years of yours." Arthur replied pointedly. He didn't exactly warn Marston 'bout the consequences of his actions when it came to sleeping with Abigail, far from it-cheering him on. This turned out to be a mistake that Marston would have to sleep with. "You have no idea what you're pushing away, boy," he continued not with just anger but more disappointment, "I would do anything to be in your place. You have this opportunity and you're wasting it. What a goddamn deadbeat."

"I'm not a deadbeat," John replied, a tad bit defensively, his eyes narrowed.

"Tell yourself that, Marston, to sleep better at night. You have been given a gift with that boy and you push him away, blame him for the mistakes that you have made." He sneered. "You know what it is like to be an orphan. You have been abused yourself and you're doing the same to Jack. Hosea is the one who's teaching him to read when it should be your goddamn responsibility. He's not Javier's son. He's not Dutch's son. You act like you hate him."

"Look, I don't hate the boy," John sighed, "bu-but you know what this life is like. I can drop dead in five minutes, and the boy would have to live with that. He has his ma. She can take care of him."

This stubborn slack of shit...

Arthur fought down the rising rage, replying icily. "We're going to be leaving this life behind one day, John, you can't push Jack away. He's getting older every day. You know damn well what's it like to not have a parent in your life. When you want to take care of him, it would be too goddamn late. Come on, John, you're better than this."

"Look, why do you care so damn much?" John inquired pointedly. "You weren't there before."

"Cause I don't want you to waste an opportunity as I have. The chance is right in front of you. You and Abigail ain't have the best relationship. It was just a night of lovemaking; but she's right. You have a son. Like it or not, you'll have to be a man and take care of him. There's no time to run off on your horse and leave behind that boy. You have to step forward and be a father now." Arthur indicated to the boy sitting by himself, shifting. "Look up, Marston." He didn't. Fury crossed his face, and he shouted. "Look, boy!"

John did so, slowly, looking up at Jack from a distance-sitting by himself, playing with the dirt in his hand, no one noticing him. A brief moment of pity flashed in his eyes. It was distinct, almost not seen by his flesh scars, but it was there. Crushed by the forced apathy that he'd placed on.

"You're doing the same thing to him that had been done to you. You're a better man than this, John Marston, he didn't ask to come into this goddamn world. You brought him here with your stupid mistakes. He is a Marston as much as he is a Roberts. Accept it. Come true to yourself."

His point made, Arthur stood up and left. He'd known John would at least think 'bout it-hopefully. There was no doubt in his mind that it would take time to sink in. But if he was lucky, John would at least try to be friendly to the boy. That would be another positive change in his favor. To make John step up sooner 'cause goddamn it, the boy was a Marston!

He had made jokes 'bout Jack, right directly to him and away from him. But even last time, Arthur saw in the whole pictures they'd used to have that the boy'd looked so much like John than he did Abigail that John'd to be a goddamn fool for not seeing it.

He spotted his tent a short mile away. Grimshaw had located all of his belongings right where he was accustomed to. His layers of clothes, at the foot of his bed. His table was an arm's length away, and his shaving kit at the front. His photographs, newspaper clippings, and souvenirs surrounded him. He walked inside and just sat on the bed.

He reached for his trimmer.

"Mr. Morgan, I need a favor," Susan Grimshaw said, appearing at his side.

Arthur fought a groan. He'd already knew... That drunken fool was always going to make Arthur age some extra. "Lemme guess. Reverend?"

"Reverend," she confirmed. "Gone missing again. I need you to go find him." She indicated in a general direction.

"Not this again…" Swanson really drove him crazy. Arthur knew he could never do it, but the goddamn drunk bastard was going to end up on the other side of his revolver at this point.

Well, he could let Ms. Grimshaw handle him. "I got him." He sighed in irritation and moved over to his horse. Luckily, he had known exactly where the priest would be. Some rundown shack next to the railroad, betting his money, and likely some of the camp that he'd smuggled away, which landed himself on stupid debts.

As he approached his destination, he could hear Swanson's guffaw. It was soon interrupted by a shout as the Reverend found out his losing hand.

Wanting to get this out of the way already, Arthur busted through the door, perhaps far more abruptly than necessary.

Swanson stared up from his pile of cards. "Mr. Morgan!" he shouted. "I took your advice, sir. I took your advice."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, let's go home." He reached out to grip him, but Swanson slapped his hand away. In an awkward motion, the priest stumbled to his feet, knocking aside his chair as he grabbed Arthur by the shoulders.

"I took your advice, sir," he repeated. "I have removed myself from Morpheus' embrace. No more shall I sink, sir. I am free. I am free!"

"Come on, Reverend, I ain't got time for this bullshit," he wrapped his arm around his shoulders and led him away. Swanson stumbled underneath his grip, obviously wanting to put up a fight, but the alcohol made him more irritating. "This is finished."

Seeing that his chance at easy money was vanishing, one of the poker players immediately got to his feet. "Sit down, Reverend, we ain't finished." Arthur glared at the man, making him shy back slightly. "What? Ain't none of us forced liquor down his throat, friend, I just want him to play."

Goddamn Swanson, sober up for once. Grimshaw'd really needed to have more people watch the drunken fool. "Play? Look at him. He's drunk."

"Why can't we all just get along?" Swanson interjected. "These are good men, Arthur. They're children of God. Children of God…" Right as the last word exited his mouth, the man's eyes rolled up and he collapsed on the ground. Expected.

Arthur scoffed.

"Oh. Well…" Seeing that the Reverend was not in the position to play the game further, the indignant player went silent. "How's 'bout you play in his place, huh? That seems fair."

"Have you missed the part where I said I ain't got time for this shit?" He asked as he gathered up Reverend's unconscious body. And he was certainly in no mood to be chasing witnesses and preventing Swanson from a suicide attempt on the goddamn train tracks. "Good day, fellers."

Their faces dimmed with disappointment, but to Arthur's relief, neither men decided to press the issue any further.

Once outside, he placed the unconscious priest onto the Walker to begin his journey back. He rode his horse through the forests back to camp. Fortunately, along the way, the Reverend didn't stir.

Arthur lifted him up from the Walker and moved over.

"Sleep your way to salvation." He commented with a grunt and placed Swanson onto his bedroll. The man had spent him nearly his entire day, never mind his sanity.

Leaving him behind before he could have come back to the real world, Arthur moved back to his tent, hearing the coughs from the man behind him as Ms. Grimshaw began to tend to him like a child. The scene filled him with both genuine pity for the Reverend and amusement 'cause Ms. Grimshaw always looked out for the gang.

Unfortunately, the day wasn't over yet.

He heard a voice from a distance.

"Dutch! They got-"

What?

"Dutch! They got-"

SHIT.

He almost forgot. That being, one of the biggest things that happened when they first came here. When Dutch sent Micah and Lenny out to patrol ahead moving here, they had gotten themselves into trouble. Lenny managed to escape, but Micah was arrested and thrown in jail.

This! This was it! The perfect plan! This way, he could get to kill Micah without suspicion. The law could get to him, or Arthur could do it himself and retreat. It would be smooth. It would be perfect.

When he came closer to the direction of the voice, Arthur's joy was short-lived. A chill started at his feet and traveled to his chest as he'd stared. No! No! No!

His senses jolted.

Heart picking up rapidly.

It was...

No! NO! NO!

Arthur's breathing increased in fierceness. His chest tightened.

HOW?!

This couldn't be real!

"Little red skin's been arrested for murder! We were in Strawberry..." Micah Bell stated. Arthur saw Dutch ahead, joined by a few others who were at the scene at the time, the rat speaking.

This DID NOT happen last time!

"They nearly lynched the boy. He got lucky-I think. They... they got him in the sheriff's in Strawberry and there's talk of swinging him." Bill added, but a part of him actually seemed regretful.

What, why? Another change in events hurt Arthur more. He'd noticed Bill have been gone, but he ain't think Dutch had sent more than two-that being Micah and Lenny. But it... made sense in hindsight. Dutch'd gotten paranoid 'bout the failed robbery with the Cornwall's train. When Dutch was paranoid, things happened, and when they happened, it usually was up to Arthur, Hosea, or one of the others to fix the goddamn mess.

Goddamn it!

But in some ways, Arthur grudgingly understood. Bill ain't ever had shit to do besides being a fat drunk around camp. Giving him responsibility was definitely understandable. Or just kicking him out altogether. Still, he couldn't help the disgust that worked its way in his system as he glared at the two goddamn rats!

"So, you just left that boy behind to die?!" Arthur demanded, feeling the urge to put bullets through both of them. If Lenny died, he would. Bill's line of thinking got Sean killed last time. Misjudged, misguided, he was, but the fat bastard was a goddamn idiot. Throw Micah in there, and you have chaos added.

"Woah, woah, woah, calm down, Morgan," Micah said, holding his hands out in front of him, not even looking slightly fearful. "He was just a boy. He ain't nothing of real importance." A smile came across his lips, making Arthur felt an even stronger urge to wipe it from his goddamn face. "Plenty of those turds to go around." he laughed.

"They are going to have him swing as soon as possible 'cause of his skin color, you goddamn fools!" he growled.

"I'm afraid I agree with Mr. Morgan here," Dutch interfered on his behalf, his eyes narrowed at their direction, "the fact that you both left Lenny is concerning. I do not want to see it happen again. We are a community. A family. We do not leave each other to die."

That was rich coming from him.

"Now we gotta go get him," Hosea spoke up.

"I will go," Arthur commanded more so than volunteered, and he wasn't just angry 'cause Lenny'd gotten captured instead. It was as if fate was mocking him for shit to happen differently every time Micah Bell was concerned. Was this just the consequences of killing Colm, of the failed train robbery?

How much had he changed indeed?

How much would be the same and totally different?

"You're worrying too much, Morgan!" Micah said behind him, putting false sadness. "While it is a shame to hear 'bout red skin, you are acting like we left him on purpose." There was a momentary glint in his right eye, that suggested this was no accident.

How the hell did Dutch not spot it?

Even if Arthur almost didn't, he'd known the boy was nothing but trouble.

"If it was you, trust and believe I wouldn't try to save you," he threatened darkly. "Would have even encouraged them to swing ya."

"Oh, I'm hurt, Morgan," Micah replied, placing a hand on his chest. "You shouldn't talk 'bout that way with a brother of yours."

"Ain't no brother of mine, Micah," he snapped back. "Lenny? That boy is loyal. One of the most loyal ones to our family." He'd really hoped that Lenny ain't gonna betray him like Javier did, 'cause right now, all he could be sure of was Kieran and Sadie's loyalties.

"Son-"

He couldn't help it. He glared at Dutch now. "And you don't even want to help."

Dutch's eyes sharpened. "What are you implying, son?"

Arthur wanted to go in and label Dutch's crimes again, but the gunslinger bit his lip.

"That both of those idiots could have stopped this," he hissed, "but all they do is stir up trouble. Every goddamn plan." It took much to resist the urge to mention what happened to Sean in Rhodes, an event that would never happen if Arthur had anything to say 'bout it.

Bill spoke in his pompous loud voice, "It ain't my fault, Morgan! Any of ours!" he snarled, looking seconds away from grabbing Arthur's throat. He was beginning to make Arthur seriously reconsider saving him. "Look, what's the big deal?! We could find someone else. It ain't worth the effo-"

"That boy is part of this gang, just like everyone else, Mr. Williamson," Hosea scolded, his face twisted in anger. "You better hope he doesn't swing."

"So much for us being a family," Arthur snapped, glaring at Dutch who held his stare for one moment-stunned by his words.

He eventually gave up the staring contest and walked away.

Dutch recovered from his surprise and followed. "Son, you gotta calm down," he stated softly, holding his hands out, attempting to grip Arthur's shoulders. "I understand wanting to save Lenny but don't do something you regret."

How dare he preach to him like a child? Despite this, Dutch was unfortunately right. He couldn't shoot up the entire town nor kill Micah and Bill, tempting as it was.

"Why is Micah still here, Dutch?" Arthur snapped. "He's always doing crazy shit, as if trying to cause us swing." he huffed. "And Bill is a useless sack of shit who shouldn't be assigned these type of jobs."

"Micah wouldn't do that," Dutch defended. "He's a good man with a bright head on his shoulders. And Bill is an army veteran. He's skilled at the end of the day. We can't predict the law, son, but they can't hold off armed men by themselves. I plan to punish them for this."

Right, likely cleaning out the stables for a day...

"Bullshit. I have a feeling they'd left him to die on purpose." That last part had slipped out, but the venom in his tone seemed to make Dutch stiffened.

"They wouldn't. We are loyal to each other, son. Micah and Bill are my sons. Lenny is too. You are my son," Dutch continued.

"Blackwater shows why we can't trust him, Dutch," he pushed forward up to the horse. "For Micah, he's always the first. The one who has to survive. He would let us swing just for himself." He knew this. Micah admitted this himself. "That piece of shit has been nothing but a problem since he'd got here, and you'll still keep him around just 'cause he fills your goddamn ego."

Dutch's face became cold, and it wasn't just 'cause of surprise. Both of his eyes went dark, his face darkened, the sunlight almost brimming off of it. "Son," he stated in a breaking tone, "It ain't 'bout my ego. You're acting like a child. Mr. Bell has been helpful to get us out of this mess. I need you to keep faith. You questioning me is exactly why folks like Micah and Bill are needed. I fear you wouldn't be able to do what must be done."

"Whatever that you tell yourself that helps you sleep at night, Dutch."

Ignoring the icy glare, Arthur stormed to the hitching post. Ryan stood on guard. Kieran have been given the responsibility to train his horse, something the boy obviously enjoyed with being a natural horseman. Time to see how much that training paid off.

So much for second chances being easier!

Arthur's note: You'll notice that Bill has been gone for a bit. Trust me, that was intentional. To explain what happened, Dutch was paranoid after the botched train robbery, so he sends Micah, Bill, and Lenny up. Bill is able to save Micah from getting captured. So yes, Lenny is the one captured instead. The butterfly effects would only increase more and more as time passed.

It starts like this. Where different characters get pushed into different positions. Then it slowly becomes where different actions happen and some other things from the original timeline don't occur.