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Chapter 32

While Arthur was resting against a tree, listening to the rustling wildlife and the air moving around him, the gunslinger had allowed himself to feel a sense of peace. This was something Arthur wanted to do more often. He'd vowed to do more often if he'd made it out...

Despite the thick atmosphere around him, Clemens Point was making the spirits even higher, as Arthur remembered Charles pointing out last time. The scars from the attack that the O'Driscolls had launched were obvious, though Uncle was recovering well, and Dutch and Hosea were becoming less paranoid. He couldn't even fault either of them for being so in the first place. Hell, he had been since then. If he didn't make it, Arthur had no idea what he would do. The man was resting and drinking a lot of alcohol to dull the pain, though he most likely enjoyed that.

"Hi, Arthur, I hope this is what is a good morning," Sadie walked towards him.

Arthur responded. "It is."

"You sure?" Arthur felt a tinge of irritation rising within him. It was irritating that folks started treating him like a child. He didn't need any protection; he only wanted to provide it himself. Was this not his second chance to give them an out?

They weren't the same.

They had one chance.

Once down, they stayed down...

"Yes," Arthur hoped that he managed to keep the bite out of his tone. Sadie was by no means a pushover. She was far from a pushover and didn't take any man's authority. He'd wondered if that would become a feature of society someday.

Hell, who knew? A female President may happen beyond Arthur's lifetime if that was the case...

"What is it, Mrs. Adler?" Arthur inquired.

"You saw your friend getting shot," she pointed out. "I thought you need to talk 'bout it with someone."

"I don't," Arthur said, closing his eyes.

"There was nothing you could have done."

He saw where this was going... "Gee, thanks, maybe give it to the man who'd gotten shot."

Sadie stared at him for a long second before grumbling, "That's your problem."

Arthur blinked, "What?"

"Never giving yourself enough credit," she answered.

Oh, this again? Seriously?

Of course, when she started, there was no stopping her.

"You'd gotta stop blaming yourself for everything, you know? You can't control the way the world works. It's not all on you."

Arthur sighed. When would folks understand? It was. It was all on him. Throughout everything, he had to remain strong. That had been one of Dutch's many powerful messages that he agreed with. Lacking strength would mean that John, Abigail, and Jack wouldn't get out this time, hopefully with more folks capable of thinking for themselves.

He couldn't afford to be weak and desperate.

That would get them nowhere and accomplish absolutely nothing.

"You don't understand, Mrs. Adler," Arthur said.

Sadie fixed him with a pointed glare, "Well, make me understand."

For some reason, Arthur wondered how Jake and Sadie had been as a wedding couple. She was by far too commanding. Not like the others. Abigail, Mary-Beth, and Tilly were able to be tamed. Sadie wasn't the type who let a man talk her down from her goals and dreams if she didn't have to.

"I can try, but you wouldn't," Arthur stated, resigned.

Sadie sighed across from him, "Alright, alright, you win this round, Arthur Morgan."

Thankfully, she didn't argue further.

"Thank you," Arthur said, though he knew this was over.

What felt like another hour passed.

The silence was interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Arthur, a moment of your time, please..." The sentence came from one he'd recognized, and he looked up to see Dutch, another cigar in hand... "Ah, Mrs. Adler..." His eyes flashed, before he smirked slightly, "I'll only borrow Arthur for a moment."

Sadie huffed, "It ain't like I can keep him, Mr. Van Der Linde."

He stared at the leader of the van der Linde gang and frowned.

As they retreated to a quiet corner of the camp, Dutch's fingers edged around the cigar, and an exhalation of smoke exited. Part of his lungs grew irritated with the smoke, but he overlooked it.

"What's going on, Dutch?" Arthur asked.

Dutch exhaled slowly, "First, I want to apologize for what happened the other day."

Oh, how long Arthur had been waiting to hear that word from Dutch. Once upon a time, Arthur wouldn't have thought so much of it. Dutch rarely apologized, but Arthur still held love in his heart for the man and didn't realize he would leave him and John behind to die.

"-Though I am admittedly still confused about your reluctance in accepting the new members into our gang, I shouldn't have blown up as I did."

But it was a cold comfort.

Joe and Cleet weren't gone yet.

Moreover, Arthur couldn't tell when Dutch actually meant an apology. It ain't likely Dutch would cut him loose as easily. He was healthy, still in his prime. It had been unlikely that things would be the same.

Arthur nodded. "I want to apologize as well, but there's more." He ain't need to keep the matter going.

"Of course..." Dutch sighed, almost in fondness; or fake fondness as he put it.

He nodded. "We're all being haunted, I didn't forget about that, Dutch," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "This life ain't easy." Boy, did Arthur ever know that from himself? Betrayal could happen so suddenly.

"We can fight our destiny."

Unlikely, given how deeply the government's influence went.

Arthur's face cracked at those words.

Dutch's expression remained the same nevertheless. "If we stay under Uncle Sam's eyes."

"Perhaps," Arthur whispered. "But I don't want to lose any more folks and I doubt you do either. Folks doesn't always get as lucky as Uncle, Dutch."

A moment of quietness fell between them. "I am working a lot to ensure that it doesn't happen again," he replied. "But I have a gang to lead, and I need you to stay strong."

Stay strong. Just how long had Arthur heard those words in the past many years? He wouldn't pretend Dutch was always wrong. No, he'd led them through death itself and came out with a few casualties at most.

He looked at Dutch. If he'd stood there much longer, he would have lost the last of his sanity. He was stuck in a hard place with no possibility of getting out. Sometimes, he wanted to scream and bash his head on the ground. Other times, he didn't know what he wanted.

This was not one of them times...

He'd needed to stop Dutch from going too far...

"Dutch," he began carefully, thinking about how to word this. "I read up on the conflict in Rhodes. 'Bout the Grays and the Braithwaites. We have to be careful here. We shouldn't get too involved."

"So you have gone behind my-" Dutch lowered his voice, "back, and did your own investigation here?"

Those words almost shattered Arthur's calmness...

"I did it for a reason, Dutch," Arthur confessed, "I want to be involved as more than just a killer."

"You are," the leader snapped, frustration crossing. "But you're causing dissent. Can't you see that? Folks are murmuring about how they agree with you. They're showing doubt in my leadership, Arthur. I need to keep us together. We cannot afford to be separate now." Dutch gripped his head. "So, what can I do to stop this attitude from you?"

This was... wonderful.

Before Arthur could respond, of course, Dutch wouldn't let it go there. "We have to dream big to get big, Arthur. I have a plan. I just don't know why you don't understand this."

'If I hear that word one more goddamn time, I'm gonna jump in front of a stagecoat,' Arthur thought furiously, feeling the urge to roll his eyes. Dutch clearly saw his aggravation.

"Fine, fine," Dutch said, taking two other puffs of smoke. "What do you want to tell me?"

Arthur gave a small nod, though guilt coursed through his body. It made a small part of him hate himself even more.

His thoughts traveled to the Grays and the Braithwaites, and the reminder of what happened gave him strength. The Braithwaites stayed to themselves, while the Grays attempted to dominate the area. And they killed the man who was like a little brother to him. The Braithwaites were slavers and kidnapped and sold Jack. The Grays were slavers and corrupt lawmen. Certainly, the Gray killed Sean. But that was AFTER they figured out the gang was trying to fuck them over. In some ways, it was understandable, because they were all pretty shitty, selfish people, and everyone would be better without them.

Dutch and Hosea played a dangerous game and were rewarded.

Goddamn it, he wasn't going to let any more folks be put in harm's way 'till it was time to rally them up against Dutch and demand a change or cut their losses.

He didn't fully agree with the Braithwaite and Gray fiasco but played along because he trusted Hosea's skills and plan. 'Bout Sheriff Gray, he was surprised they are pretending to be deputized and he kept asking Dutch what the end plan is. When they race back to Clemens Point after stealing some moonshine, and when he was pretty critical of the whole thing, Dutch ain't seem to realize or care what he was telling him. He also disagreed with the night attack at Bronte's manor and the way Dutch murdered him.

"They were both previous slave-owning families until Lincoln and the Union got involved. The Grays are among the worst hecklers of the suffragettes. I heard that the Braithwaites locked a poor mentally ill girl in an outhouse for years until she died. Not even a cellar or cabin in Ohio, just an outhouse. The Braithwaites are also close with the Lemoy Raiders, who are basically terrorists. The Grays are far from good, but they're taking criminals off the streets."

An eyebrow raised at those words, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Oh, Arthur," he said, "do you not have a high opinion on Hosea's charisma?"

Arthur held his ground. "Too much of a risk. We got really lucky in Blackwater, and folks who agree with me might not be too fond of this."

"We have to keep mov-"

He sighed, agitated. "This ain't gonna stop 'till you listen to me, goddamn it!"

Sean's head blown off, the blood leaking from his head, came to his vision again...

Dutch's face paled in surprise, and an indignant shout of "Arthur!" left his lips.

But Arthur did his best to keep himself at bay. He ain't gonna be the stuttering mess he was at Beaver Hollow.

By now, Arthur had that one card over Dutch. The gang may fracture... eventually, but if Arthur played his cards right, maybe they could stay clear. The rules were simple: mind their own damn business and just rest up and recover, until next time. But it was almost as if chaos called to the older man. Without it, Dutch couldn't live.

"I think we ought to be careful," he continued, his tone firm. "We don't want to attract any unnecessary attention."

He looked at him for longer than necessary. Apprehension clawed through his entire body again.

"And how precisely did you find out about the locals?" he inquired, his tone dark, and it made Arthur feel the urge to shiver. "I hope you're careful with any new friends you may be making."

"I'm trying to avoid more problems, Dutch," he replied calmly. He knew that by doing this, he wouldn't be able to help Beau and Penelope. They were raised in dysfunctional families and were in a nasty situation. However, he couldn't help them. At least for now. Maybe in the future, depending on what happens after all of this. But there were more important matters like making sure Micah got put down before he hurt anyone else.

"Caution is not known to shine upon you, Arthur," he responded, and there it was. The gaslighting. Yes, that's the fucking word... "We're a lovely community trying to forge our own path in the world. We can't afford to be held back by fear of what might occur. And with your breakdowns, it ain't helping us maintain a positive image. We need to be as tight as we once were.

"I understand, Dutch," he replied tightly. "But sometimes, it's better to proceed lightly than to charge ahead. We need to be calculative if we're going to preserve, and we ain't able to jump at every opportunity 'cause we feel like doing it."

A tense silence passed...

Arthur saw Dutch's fists clenching again.

"I assume you'll find an alternative. If we don't make more cash, we'll have you to thank when the law tracks us down and we ain't able to get closer to the West."

Dutch's willingness had shown that Arthur was growing stronger in the gang's standing. After what happened with the O'Driscolls, many of their confirmations were proven correct. Both men saw it...

"You're a firm believer in this," he replied. "Will this new attitude of yours stop now?"

Arthur barely managed to prevent himself from shifting uneasily. After all, this was what he wanted: to assume the role that Micah had without appealing to his ego.

"It will if it stays like this," he declared, able to keep his composure, eyes locking against those darker orbs.

Dutch nodded. "Very well," he decided. "We'll stay uninvolved."

Arthur knew this could have just saved Sean and even Lenny. The Pinkertons were no doubt looking for them, but let me look and let them avoid them for a while longer. Again, he had never been the type for planning. He would have to ask Lenny 'bout it. The kid was gladly smarter than all of 'em.

In this game of words, Dutch was still testing his loyalty. Even with his foresight, he couldn't rival Dutch.

"I'm doing this so we can all survive."

A ghost of a smile crossed Dutch's lips. "I know, Arthur," he murmured.

Taking that as a dismissal, Arthur walked away, comforted by the fact that he had convinced Dutch to stay out of that affair. The gang's meddling with affairs, as they always did, backfired. They were not on top of the world anymore. Things didn't work because they always worked. The strategy was to get the Grays and Braithwaites to start shooting at each other. To turn their feud into an open war. They believed they could rob them both in the chaos. The problem was that both families figured out it was the gang who was messing with them. It would've been smarter to try and rob one family instead of playing both sides and trying to rob them both, but even that was dangerous for various reasons.

As Arthur got even further from the leader, he spotted Micah and Javier. Javier had his arm wrapped around Micah, with two bottles of beer on their table, laughing and jeering. He shook his head at what once would have been an unlikely friendship in his eyes and sighed. It was too late to reason with the Mexican with him being Dutch's dog right now and not seeing what Micah could do to them all.

Further away, Arthur found John and Abigail spending a rare moment of vulnerability together. They were watching the nearby river, the former's arms wrapped around his woman. Arthur lingered for a moment longer, watching the two. It was a moment of peace, one that Arthur wished he was able to share, but he had to keep an eye on folks throughout; Micah and Dutch too.

"So John was telling me 'bout you and Sadie..." Abigail started, of course noticing him first.

Arthur was confused for a moment before he realized... "She just lost her husband. Ain't no time for her to find a new one and focus on mourning." He noticed that she was more stable and didn't lose her temper nearly as much as last time, though much work was still needed. Healing was required.

John laughed. "Sure, Morgan, sure..."

"You find something funny 'bout this, boy?" Arthur demanded.

"Oh no. It's just, can I be the one who marry the both of ya? It would be a ceremony, I'm telling you."

"There ain't a marriage, and if I ever get married, you won't be invited. With your brain being frosted by snow, you probably won't show up to your own. Then again, you'll probably engaged with new wolves." Arthur said with his significant dark humor.

The younger man rolled his eyes while Abigail laughed and leaned even closer to John. "You're never going to let it go, ain't ya?"

Arthur smirked. "Nope."