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Chapter 26

'We've been in Horseshoe Overlook longer than last time. Milton and any signs of the Pinkertons are a no-show. I think me questioning Dutch ain't a good idea. More and more, Dutch, Javier, and Micah have been meeting in silence with each other. I don't know what they're planning. I don't even know if they are planning. But I'm keeping an eye out. Folks have gotten use to my new attitude. It's been welcomed. At least, Marston is starting to show signs of wanting to step up as a father.'

Arthur finished his drawing of a buck, pocketed his journal inside, and stood up, masking in the relieving afternoon morning.

He approached the table where Dutch and Hosea were sitting opposite from each other.

"What did I tell you, Hosea?" Dutch asked, his voice ticked with pride and confidence, "everything's getting better. One step closer. We gather our losses and keep on moving."

"But how long? How far?" the older man asked inquisitively, "How much do we keep running before we finally lay low and stop killing folks?"

Dutch's voice didn't change. "With Arthur and the rest of our boys, we're getting one step closer to the west. Come on, Hosea, where's the faith? You know we'll pull through. We always do. You gotta look at things more optimistically."

"Dutch, I'm glad we got some money from this score. But this ain't how we should be handling things. After a robbery like that, it's only a matter of time before more of the law would close in on us."

"I have a plan, Hosea," Dutch dismissed, keeping his cool facade in the face of questioning, "we're almost there. In Colter, we got Colm O'Driscoll. Here, we'd managed to recover our losses. The train robbery. The bank. What could go wrong? I need you to be strong. There's no time for weakness. We have to do what we can do to survive."

"I'm trying, Dutch, trying." Hosea submitted, his voice weak, almost a sigh. It was as if he'd known that trying to reason with Dutch here and now would result in nothing.

"Try harder," the word was ever so blunt but spoke with a cool measurement that almost even had Arthur swayed that everything was going to be okay. He didn't know how he could still fall for the charade sometimes when that led to his death, but he'd presumed that was just part of the indoctrination and loyalty that he used to have to Dutch van der Linde. "We need to remember what is at stake if we fail. We have to have faith in one another. In every man and woman here for survival. Remember that."

His face became severe for a moment 'till Arthur came closer, placing one leg on the nearby crate and staring at them.

Dutch's face brightened when he'd seen Arthur. "And ah, there's my prized son, how have you been feeling today?"

"I've been good, Dutch," Arthur answered. "What is it now?"

"Do you expect action all of the time?" Dutch chuckled, amused.

"I fear we may have imbued that into him, wouldn't you agree, Dutch?" Hosea's face broke out into amusement. Arthur hated when he did that, just 'cause this reminded him of the old days. When it was just him and the two. So long ago as a lost 15-year-old. Arthur wished he'd enjoyed the moments more.

"I'm aware that you don't work well with Mr. Bell, and haven't seen eye to eye with myself lately, but despite our different opinions, you're still my son," Dutch added, Hosea nodded in agreement behind him, no doubt having also felt the wrench between them. The wrench that Arthur himself implanted 'cause he couldn't forget Dutch leaving him behind.

His hand removed from his shoulder, feeling like chains that were slapped over him, Arthur Morgan could think again.

He nodded. "I'm loyal to you, Dutch," he lied yet again. "Just don't agree with you all of the time."

A chuckle rumbled out of Dutch at that moment. "Hosea, if there's anything we could have said 'bout young Arthur here, we'd learned that your influence of worrying too much for things have rubbed off of him. What else would you teach our son, I wonder?"

Hosea grinned. "I have to leave some sort of legacy behind in my old age, Dutch." He laughed somewhat, though it quickly transformed into a cough, beating against his chest as he hid his face from the two men who'd mattered mostly to him and coughed to the side 'till a spit came out.

"Oh, don't talk like that, Hosea. Like we all told you, you would outlive the lot of us." Dutch quipped, slapping the man on the shoulders playfully.

Laughter came beside them as Uncle joined them at the table, stopping at the right end of it. "Hello, gentlemen. For once, Dutch's not reading." He laughed. "Hopefully, it becomes common."

Hosea snorted. "Not likely. You know how our king likes to be a reader."

Uncle laughed, shaking the table, something that notably annoyed and amused all of them. "Ha. I imagine that Your Majesty have a lot of obligations to pay for to himself. Don't you, Dutch?"

Arthur rolled his eyes but hummed.

Dutch chuckled, "More than you can imagine, jester."

"Oh, I see where this is going. I'll leave the King and Jester with each other," Arthur remarked sarcastically, moving away from them to avoid the oddities of Dutch and Uncle's relationship.

He'd been searching for Mrs. Adler. He'd known she would recover, but there were still concerns 'bout her mental state. She didn't have any reason to stay with Colm dead, really. But unfortunately, he didn't run into her. Instead, he'd spotted the form of John sitting on a crate. He'd attempted to be wise and calm, but he had enough of this shit.

"Get up." he commanded, glaring at John.

"What is it now, Morgan?"

"I'm tired of this shit. C'mon! Let's go!" The big brother of the Van Der Linde gang barked, halfway pulling Marston behind him, attracting much attention. Sean and Karen were sitting next to each other next to the latter's tent. Kieran and Mary-Beth were sitting on a log, enjoying each other's company. Abigail was sitting near a wagon, looking up to see him dragging Marston, and huffed slightly.

"Mary-Beth, Kieran, come over here. Ms. Roberts, you too," Arthur gave his next command.

Kieran and Mary-Beth both stared at each other in curiosity, and the latter lowered the book, following this order.

"Kieran, Mary-Beth, watch Jack. You two, let's go." Arthur led John and Abigail to the river, now gripping both of their arms, pulling them down the hillside to the direction of the river. "You two are not allowed back into camp 'till you talk it out and decide to be decent with each other."

"What?!" Both chorused.

"And if I catch you fighting after this 'bout this bullshit, you can sleep in the forests or here 'cause you won't be around Jack 'till then."

"Morgan, this ain't funny!" John snarled.

"Am I smiling, boy?!" Arthur thundered back. "I already told you! You don't talk it out, you both ain't sleeping in your tents tonight!"

"There's nothing to talk out! He won't listen!" Abigail exclaimed.

He looked at the woman. "There's my points. I'm done with you two keep on goddamn insulting each other like it's going to solve a thing." He glared at John. "Marston, that's the mother of your child, and you speaking nasty things 'bout her, right around the goddamn boy no less; every attempt she made to rekindle your relationship, you have been taking it as a personal attack against your character." And now, he glared at Roberts. "And you gotta talk to him without losing your temper. Insulting him, snapping at him, it ain't solving the goddamn problem. Treat him like a goddamn person. TALK!"

They may hate him now, but he was doing them a favor.

His voice darkened and he pointed at them with his index finger, intimated with the mood of the next words.

"Don't make me come back here."

"Arthur!"

"MORGAN!"

When he entered the camp, ignoring the shouts of complaints behind him which grew fainter, he'd noted that his scene with Marston and Roberts attracted attention.

One of the faces was Lenny, who approached him.

"You know," the boy laughed timidly, "you are stubborn when you want to be, Arthur."

He huffed.

The sigh of irritation that escaped his throat could not be contained, but right now John Marston couldn't care less. For the first time since Arthur Morgan rescued him on that mountain in Colter, he'd found himself shocked, 'cause Morgan's change in demeanor had been noticeable. It had come both at the worst and best time.

The gang may have robbed and killed, but only killing when necessary. It seemed like Morgan believed they weren't getting out, escape to another county was a dream. They would be hunted 'till they were all caught, or dead. Marston didn't understand. He hadn't exactly trusted Dutch and thought too fondly of him lately, but that didn't mean he'd lost all faith in him. The death of the girl on that ferry... it still made him shiver, something that John actually agreed with him 'bout. For some reason, it reassured him that Morgan wasn't a fan of the acts that had been occurring. He was very fond of pulling scams with Hosea instead.

But the fact that both Arthur and Hosea doubted Dutch, and Arthur didn't back down when it came to Dutch's excuse according to Tilly, it was... a rough chance.

He could see folks were starting to get worried 'bout where all of this was going.

He'd supposed it didn't matter, none of it, at least not right now.

"So we have to talk," Abigail stated, her voice bitter. "I guess Arthur's right 'bout that."

Deep down, Marston knew she was correct, they did need to talk, and Morgan had put them in the perfect position to do so. Maybe he wouldn't kill him later.

"Yeah, I know..." an awkward silence passed. "So how you been? You and the boy?" Damn...

"We ain't been eaten by wolves so you could assume we're fine," Abigail retorted darkly, her eyes piercing right into his.

"I guess Morgan's change ain't all good, wouldn't you agree?" While it would sound like a joke, John was simply pointing out a fact.

"I feel like even after all you've done, he still loves you," Abigail noted, a small smile on her lips, something John almost didn't spot. For some reason, she was glad to see Arthur treating him nicely more lately. Although John didn't understand it himself, he knew Blackwater probably had a part. Probably opened his eyes to something that Marston or most of them didn't catch on to. She scoffed, and Marston knew this was the end of the movements: "How have you been? Have you found someone else to use and get rid of?"

"Look, I'm trying here, woman," Marston snapped, anger starting to take over.

"Don't take that tone with me, John Marston!" Abigail shot back, slapping him across the face. "You'd left me and Jack when we'd needed you the most, abandoned us for a year, and now you're trying! John, I can't ignore what you did, or pretend it was done out of our best interests! You didn't want to raise him! You'd left him under the care taking of other men 'cause you couldn't take it that we'd brought a child into this world."

Surprisingly, the fight left John Marston as quickly as it came; another emotion came. Shame. Resignation was in his tone. "I know." he hated to do it, but if they didn't talk 'bout it, Morgan would not let up, and he remembered his conversation with the older man the other day.

"You had not even tried to be a good father at all. You'd think Jack asked to be brought here?! We made that mistake, and now we have to live with it. Moreover, Jack has to live with the fact that his father hates him!"

"I don't hate him!" This wasn't the first time Marston had been accused of hating the boy. Last time, it hadn't been as personal. Could people stop saying that, goddamn it?!

"Well, you most certainly don't love him!" Abigail growled. "If you did, you would be here! But you're not! You continue to leave him without a father! While Arthur and the others try, he doesn't want them. They're not his father. YOU ARE." The last words, spoken so strongly,

Another sigh escaped John, knowing full well what Abigail was talking about.

There was no excuse 'bout it. Leaving Jack for a year was wrong.

He knew.

The argument that Jack wasn't his son was just something he'd held onto. An idiotic argument, just like him. That boy was completely innocent, even though he was part of a gang of outlaws and low lives. The boy hadn't deserved to be brought into this life. But he was...

He had left them without hesitation when they'd needed him the most. And whilst Abigail only attempted to push his fatherly duties onto John, practically holding his hand, John continued responding with childish responses and neglect, insulting the boy and his mother right in front of them. It was probably something Abigail would never be able to forgive him for.

And honestly, neither had he. He would never tell anyone, would never admit it, not even to Morgan, but he realized he would regret leaving Jack behind every day.

He hated himself for it.

"I was wrong to leave you, and I wish to apologize for it. Nothing I can say and do will make up for it, Abigail. You've given me plenty of chances, and I've turned you. I understand if you want nothing to do with me no more."

After a minute, a gentle hand laid on his arm, pulling John into Abigail's side whilst she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Oh John, it takes guts to apologize and admit you were wrong, but you did, and I admire you for that." She sighed, her face sharpening, "But I don't know if I could trust you around the boy at least not now. How will I know you won't hurt him again? How do I know you won't make him cry again?"

That was the closest he was going to get for now, but it was a step. Both knew that Jack needed a father. He realized Arthur forcing them to have this talk was a good thing 'cause he would admit being resentful when Arthur and Jack went out fishing, tempted to join them too.

"So… you really forgive me?" John inquired, honestly stunned at how simple it had been to convince her. He wasn't sure he deserved it honestly.

"Forgive you? Yes, I do. I love you John, but that doesn't mean I'll forget. You can't keep acting like this, 'cause if you do, Jack's going to suffer for it. I'll see how things change, and I hope that you will be an actual father. Please keep this in mind. Don't forget it."

He would. He would prove himself to Abigail that he could be a good father. Strangely enough, he'd wanted to do the same with Arthur. At the end of the day, the man was his big brother, and he didn't cut his losses as he could have easily done on that mountain. It would have been something John'd deserved, for being too afraid of accepting his duties. But Morgan didn't. He did play the role of father figure to the boy to cheer him up, but John could not do it. He would prove himself to Morgan, Abigail, Hosea, and the boy.

"I promise, Abigail, I promise."

"Thank you."

They embraced, her head on his chest, and John's hands in her hair.

He would shoot Morgan when he saw him, but he'd thank him too...

He would never let this go again...