Chapter Text
“We're going to see uncle Arthur, right?”
Abigail smiled at her son, sitting in front of John in the saddle, holding onto the reins of Old boy.
“We sure are. Uncle Arthur's found us a nice and cozy place to stay.” She said, looking fondly at her son as John allowed him to steer Old Boy along the dirt path. She was sitting behind Sadie, holding onto the other woman's waist as they passed by Moonstone pond.
It was still quite early in the morning, she hadn't been able to sleep that well after hearing Charles' news of Arthur's whereabouts the evening before. Unable to sleep, she had started packing camp when the first rays of the sun had started peeking through. She couldn't wait to get out of the place. Although O'Creagh's run was a beautiful spot, she didn't feel safe at all. At night she could hear the howls of wolves nearby and when Sadie and John had returned from a short hunting trip, almost gotten killed by a huge grizzly, she had begged Charles to look for someplace else to stay, somewhere safe for her boy.
She was also relieved to see Arthur again, from what she'd heard, he’d had a hard time the last couple of weeks. She and the rest of them felt extremely guilty towards him. She knew how the others had promised to get Arthur out of that awful man's clutches. John had been restless and desperate, talking every day about the man he saw as his big brother. But times had been tough for them as well, constantly on the run, being hunted down. When things finally had calmed down, John, Sadie and Charles had immediately set off to Saint Denis, only returning disappointed without Arthur by there side. He was nowhere to be found. They had kept an eye out on any news, if the infamous Arthur Morgan had been caught by the law, surely they would read it in the papers.
“Are we there yet?” Jack asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She smiled when she saw him glancing innocently around his surroundings, his eyes lit up when he saw a small red cardinal flying by.
John chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. “Not yet, Jack. But we'll be there soon.” He smiled and clicked his tongue, urging Old Boy to walk next to Charles. He kept silent for a couple of seconds and glanced at the other man.
“So Arthur, did he seem okay to you?” He asked.
Charles sighed as he stroked a hand through Taima's manes. “Not really.” He said calmly, keeping his answer short.
John nodded and frowned, looking down at his son who seemed busy steering and talking to the horse.
“Does he really want us there? You know, after everything what happened?” He asked slowly, looking uncertain. “I feel like I deserted him..”
“You shouldn't hold a grudge on yourself, friend.” Charles replied calmly. “Arthur wanted us to come. You know how he is, he doesn't hold grudges. Is probably blaming himself for everything.”
John nodded slowly, staring ahead of them. Charles words didn't help much for his guilt. “You said he's staying at a ranch close by, you know how he got there?”
“He said it was gifted to him, nothing else.”
John raised an eyebrow. “A gift? That's one Hell of a gift.” He said, looking incredulous.
Charles shrugged. “That's what he said.”
John glanced behind them at Sadie and Abigail, the girls were chatting quietly, a side of Sadie he only saw when she was talking to Abigail or one of the other women. Normally she acted brash and bold, but with Abigail there was a certain calmness and gentleness. A respect between two women who both hadn't had an easy life.
He turned to look up ahead again, his eyes following the trail that led them down the mountain and would lead them into the Heartlands. They were close.
They continued the rest of the short trip in silence, listening to Jack's cheerful humming and chatting.
“Is that the house where uncle Arthur lives?” Jack asked after a while, pointing at a ranch looming up behind long fields and scatterd trees.
“I think it is.” John said. He glanced at Charles, who simply nodded in confirmation.
“Wow! It's got cows!”
John chuckled. “It sure has.” He said, spurring Old Boy on in a gentle trot, leaving the rest so he could walk up to the fenced corral, letting Jack take a look at the cows. John glanced around the property, searching for any sign of Arthur, he couldn't find him at the moment. He looked around the perimeter and spotted what seemed like the main house. All seemed really nice and quiet, probably too nice for some dirty outlaws. He turned Old Boy to the others and quickly followed after them when he saw them getting close to driveway.
When they steered the horses into the dirt path that led to the main house, they saw Arthur coming out of the building to greet them, he was limping and seemed to have a small smile on his lips when he saw them. Still, John was surprised to see the state his brother was in. He looked pale, with big dark bags under his eyes, he seemed skinnier than usual and there was a slightly hollow look in his eyes, he looked somewhat different, maybe a little bit lost? He didn't know, he wasn't that good at reading other people.
“Uncle Arthur!” Jack excitingly wiggled in the saddle and John understood the subtle hint, helping him down to the ground.
“Hey Jack.” Arthur smiled as Jack ran up to him. “My! You've grown!” He ruffled the boy's hair.
“Really?” Jack's eyes brightened.
“Sure have.” Arthur smiled fondly at the little boy. He turned to the rest when they had all slipped out off their saddles and had turned to him. “Hey..” He greeted them, looking a bit awkward as he scratched the back of his head.
“Oh come here you!” Abigail frowned as she scurried up to him and gave him a big hug. “How are you holding up?”
“All right I guess.” He grunted and gave her a small smile, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes though.
“You don't look fine to me. you look miserable!” Sadie, as tactful as always.
Arthur grunted in response, chose to not respond to the comment. “You can put the horses into the corral.” He said curtly and pointed a finger where to go. He turned back to Abigail and Jack. “Follow me, Abigail. I'll show you where you, Jack and John can stay.” He said a bit more gentle as he walked up the front porch's steps, guiding them inside the house and up to the bedroom.
John watched them go, holding onto the reins of Old Boy, petting the horse soft snout. “He doesn't look fine to me…” He murmured.
“No, he ain't.” Sadie snorted as she led her horse to the corral. “But you know, Arthur. Doesn't want us to worry ‘bout him.”
John watched the door where Arthur, Abigail and Jack had gone through. He wasn't feeling any better now they were finally reunited with Arthur.
He only felt worse.
………………………………
After a long day of helping Arthur on the ranch, Abigail had prepared a nice meal for them. The pronghorn meat Arthur had shot the day before, boiled eggs and some gravy and leftover potatoes Abigail had kept in one of her bags. John sighed in content, taking a bite out of the juicy meat. It was hard, but satisfying work. He sat on the steps of the front porch, staring out over the serene environment that surrounded him. He could get used to this.
He saw Arthur coming over from the barn, his limping seemed to have gotten worse on the end of a hard working day. John watched him step up the front porch steps and slump down in the chair, lighting a cigarette, letting the cigarette dangle between his lips as he leaned down to gently massage his leg. He looked tired and a pained look crossed his features when he rubbed a particular sensitive spot.
“What happened to your leg?”
Arthur glanced at him and let go of his leg to lean back in his chair, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “Nothing.. it's fine.” He grumbled.
“You were limping, don't tell me your leg is fine.” John growled, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“I got shot. Nothing new there.” Arthur replied curtly, furrowing his brows as he took another drag of his cigarette, staring off over the Heartlands grassy hills.
“Did that Daniels guy do that to you?”
Arthur sighed, it felt like he was interrogated. “Sort of… his men did when I tried to escape, it doesn't matter.”
“Shit, Arthur. He allowed them to shoot you? What did that man all do to you?” John snapped. “You look terrible. I thought I heard he cared about you, but he really didn't.”
“He did!” Arthur snapped and turned to glare at the other, throwing his cigarette on the floor, slightly losing his cool. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, trying to keep calm.
John blinked and stayed silent for a moment, he scrubbed his hand across his face as he incredulously stared back at the other man. Arthur almost never lost his cool like that and why did Arthur even care whether that man cared about him or not.
“Shit… what happened to you, Arthur?”
“Shit happened, John.” Arthur snarled. “Lots of shit.” He stood up and limped down the veranda steps, going up to the barn, grabbing a pitchfork on the way there. He didn't notice the concerned and surprised look on John's face as he walked away from him, he didn't care to notice, he didn't care about anything at all at the moment.
When he entered the old barn, he bended over and lifted a bale of hay on his shoulder, his leg screaming in protest at the added weight. He knew he should be giving his leg some rest, but he needed a distraction. John had angered him with his prodding and his bullshit, the other man had hit a certain sensitive spot deep inside him. He didn't want to talk about Eric, he didn't want to talk about what happened to him when he was with Eric, he didn't want to talk about his feelings, nor his injuries. He just didn't want to talk about anything at all at the moment.
He grimaced in pain as he moved to take the hay to throw it over the fence and into the corral. He climbed over and used the pitchfork to scatter the hay around. He saw the horses coming over to him, their ears perking up eagerly as they started nibbling on the food. He sighed and moved to Capucine's side as she continued eating, stroking her manes and muscled neck.
“Please forgive John, you know what an idiot my husband can be…”
Slightly startled, Arthur looked up and behind him and saw Abigail leaning against the fence, a plate of food in her hands. He hadn't even noticed her coming closer to him. He was getting rusty.
“He's just worried about you, he feels guilty.” She continued, she held up the plate of food as if a peace offering. “I brought you your dinner.”
Arthur grunted and walked over to her, taking the plate and nodding his head in appreciation. He leaned with his back against the fence and took a bite of his food, staring at the horses munching on the hay.
“You know… the house, this ranch. It's incredible. It's like a girl's dream.” She said, staring around the property, her eyes landing on Arthur's. “How did you get it?”
“Eric… mister Daniels had put the house on my name, I don't know why.” He grumbled as he looked down at his plate, taking another bite of his food. “I guess it was a gift.”
“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Arthur.” She clasped a soft hand on top of his shoulder. “I just want to keep you company.” She gave him a comforting smile as he nodded slowly.
“It's okay… maybe I should start talking about it.” He grunted, keeping his eyes on his food.
“You started to care for that feller, didn't you?” She asked carefully, her hand softly squeezing his shoulder. “It's okay, I think I understand.”
Arthur swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. “Maybe I did, I don't know.”
“It's hard for things to not get personal when you get intimate with somebody, even if it starts of as something you consider as work.” She said. He knew what she meant. Her life, before she ended up with John. Just like him, she had sold her body, only she had done it for a longer period of time and probably with a lot more different men than he ever could imagine doing. He respected her, being able to stay this strong after everything that happened to her. He knew she hadn't had an easy life before she met up with the gang.
“I guess…” Arthur grunted, scrubbing a hand across his face. “He just… it was a long time ago I felt somewhat special, someone made me feel appreciated… I think?” He grunted and gave her a questioning look, as if hoping Abigail could understand his feelings better than he himself could.
Abigail nodded, brushing a comforting hand across Arthur's shoulder blade. “I think what you mean is that it was nice to being loved.” She said, a small smile on her lips. “But I don't think it was a healthy kind of love. I don't know what he did to you, Arthur. But I've never seen you like this before, you look exhausted, physically and mentally.”
Arthur sighed, looking down at his food, he was losing his appetite. “…He did a lot of things. They weren't all good, but I allowed him to do it…” He grunted, feeling shame and guilt bubbling up to the surface. “I think I enjoyed it… sometimes.”
“You don't have to feel ashamed, Arthur. It's not your fault.” Abigail looked him in the eyes. “You did it for the gang, for your family.”
“And I failed.” Arthur turned to give her a serious look. “The gang has fallen apart. Lenny, Kieran… Hosea. They're all dead… because of me. I started this for the family, but there's no family left.”
Abigail furrowed her brows, looking away for a moment. “It's not your fault, Arthur. You did your best for us.” She said, looking back into his eyes. “If there's anyone to blame, it's Dutch. He forced you into this mess and he let the gang fall apart afterwards.” She stared off into the distance, a hard look crossing over her usual soft features. “Dutch was getting careless and arrogant, he shouldn't have underestimated that man, that was Dutch's biggest fault.”
“You can't blame everything on Dutch, Abigail. He always does what he thinks is best for the family.” Arthur said slowly, he was trying to sound convincing.
“You haven't seen him the last couple of weeks, Arthur.” She turned to give him a bitter look. “He's changed.”
Arthur kept silent. Abigail wasn't the first who said this. Charles had said so as well the day before. Of course he had noticed Dutch changing, it had started before the whole Blackwater ferry incident. He hadn't noticed it in the beginning, but after a while he started noticing more and more Dutch wasn't living up to his own code anymore. He was beginning to feel real doubt after he heard of Dutch killing an innocent woman in the ferry job. It just wasn't a thing he could imagine him doing, but he did. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“I'm sorry, Arthur. I know how much you care about Dutch. But please don't seek him out and go back to him. It won't do you any good.”
Arthur looked at her worried expression. He sighed and stared back at the horses in front of him. “I won't… For now, I won't.” He said eventually.
Knowing this was the best answer she could get out of Arthur right now, she dropped the topic, nodding her head as she stared at the horses feeding on the hay as well. They stayed silent for a while, there was some tension in the air, but it soon was replaced by calmness, just enjoying each other's company as they basked in the evening sun.
“He's dead, you know?” Arthur broke the silence after a while. He knew it was an unspoken question she hadn't dared to ask yet. “…And it's all my fault. He would've never died, if he hadn't met me.”
She stared at him, momentarily not knowing what to say. She had wondered what had happened to that mister Daniels, but hadn't expected Arthur to tell her himself.
“I feel like a mess, like I should hate him, but I don't.” Arthur continued, still staring at the horses. “No… instead I miss him. I miss him like I miss Hosea. It's goddamn confusing.”
Abigail glanced at him, her grip on his shoulder tightening ever so slightly. “I don't know what happened, Arthur.” She said calmly. “But please, stop blaming yourself, some things happen for a reason and it's okay to care, even if it feels wrong.” Her voice was soft and comforting. “You can't help what your feeling. So it's better to accept those feelings, than deny them.”
Arthur silently looked at her, listening to her words.
“I didn't understand my feelings for John either.” She chuckled, looking fondly over her shoulder at the man slumped on the front porch's steps behind them. “But there's no stopping feelings. And eventually I started accepting them, just like the baby that was growing in my belly. …Took a while though. You have to give it some time.” She smiled back at Arthur.
“Hmm.. time.” Arthur grumbled, looking at her. “Maybe you're right…”
“Of course I am.” Abigail chuckled, nudging him in the side.
Arthur smiled a small smile. “Shut it, woman.”
Abigail smiled and took his arm. “Come on, let's get back to the house, it's getting dark.”
Arthur nodded, climbed over the fence and let himself be led to the house.
…………………………………
A couple of weeks had passed. It was early in the morning and Arthur was sitting in a chair on the veranda, sketching in his journal, the journal he had gotten from Eric just before he died. Little Jack was playing with Egg next to him, holding a twig with a long piece of twine attached to the end. The cat running and jumping after it as Jack giggled in excitement and twirled the twine around him. Arthur stopped his sketching to look at the boy and cat next to him, smiling fondly. The last couple of weeks, they had all found a bit of a routine and the ranch was starting to flourish again, even slowly making some small profits. Well, at least it was enough to feed six mouths. It was interesting, living an honest life. But something was pulling at him deep from within, it was making him restless and uneasy.
“What are you drawing, uncle Arthur.” Jack chirped next to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Arthur looked down at the drawing he was working on. “A stag.” He replied simply.
“Why?”
“… I don't know.” The simple question surprised him, he looked at the stag, at the trees, the forest he had drawn behind it. “Maybe I miss getting out in the woods and off this ranch…” He said slowly, thinking about the words he was saying.
“Why don't you?” Jack asked innocently, twirling the twine around in his little hands, Egg watching his every move at his feet.
Another simple question he didn't really know how to answer. He shrugged.
“You're silly, uncle Arthur.” Jack laughed and ran away from him, the cat running after him.
Arthur watched him go and glanced back down at the sketch in his hands. He didn't know what kept him here at Carmody Dell. There was a feeling inside of him that said he had to stay. But a bigger part of him said he had to get as far away from this place and its memories as he possibly could. Every day he was staying here, he was starting to feel worse. If he ever wanted to remotely feel like his old self again, he had to get out of here.
Looking up, he took in the scenery of Carmody Dell. The Heartlands certainly was a serene, beautiful and peaceful place, nothing like his own mind right at the moment.
Staring back down at the sketch in his hands, he took his pencil and added more trees, shrubs and plants around the stag. The solution to his restlessness and uneasiness, he had drawn it and hadn't even noticed it. He missed going out exploring new roads, the hunting and roaming free through nature.
Sitting here, living the honest life, it wasn't making him happy.
………………………………………
That evening, they sat together around the small table in the living room, playing a game of poker, smoking cigarettes and drinking bourbon, talking softly, keeping their voices low. Jack was already sleeping upstairs. The room was dark, except for the fire that crackled in the fireplace and the small lantern that hung above the table. Arthur glanced down at his cards, it was a shitty hand. He grumbled and decided to fold, throwing the hand away. His mind wasn't really on the game anyway, he was thinking about this morning, the innocent talk he had had with Jack, had been thinking about it for the whole day now. He had to get out of this place, clear his mind and roam around the country. He just didn't really know how to break the news to the others. They were living a good life, the six of them.
He felt selfish.
He swallowed thickly and coughed in his hand, gaining Charles's attention who was sitting next to him, he glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. The others were still calmly chatting along.
“I'm leaving tomorrow.” Arthur spoke up, the others looked at him, a bit startled. Maybe he should have been a bit more subtle.
“What do you mean you're leaving tomorrow?” John frowned, putting his cards down on the table. “You're not going back to Dutch, are you?”
The thought of going back to Dutch had crossed his mind lots of times the last couple of weeks, but he wasn't planning to, not yet anyway.
He shook his head. “No, I'm not.” The others looked a bit relieved when he said that. “I need to get out of this place… I’m… it's driving me crazy.” He grunted, looked down and fumbled with the glass of bourbon in his hand, bringing it up to his lips to take a small sip.
Abigail nodded slowly, she had noticed Arthur hadn't started to look any better since the last time they had their talk. A couple of weeks had passed and Arthur still looked miserable and drained. It was a big thing for the other to admit he wasn't doing well.
“Where are you going then?” She asked, her voice gentle as she looked at him.
“I don't know…” Arthur grumbled, still staring down at his glass. “I just need some time away, I'll drop by once in a while though.”
“But what about the ranch, Arthur?” Sadie said, her voice almost sounding whiny. “It's just starting to make us some money.”
Arthur turned an apologetic look towards her. “I've decided to gift the ranch to John and his family.” He said, his eyes wandering over to John's surprised ones. He put his glass down and rummaged through his pocket, taking out some papers, stretching his arm to hand them over to John. “I put the ranch on your name.”
“What? B-but.. Arthur.” John stammered, slowly reaching out his hand to take the offered papers. He stared down at them, immediately wanting to give them back to the other. “I can't accept this…”
“Of course you can!” Sadie piped in, snatching the papers out of John's hands, studying its contents. “Your own ranch, it's what Abigail always wanted!”
Abigail laughed, although a bit uncomfortable. She made eye contact with Arthur who sat opposite of her, he nodded at her. A silent exchange going on between them as they made eye contact. She understood, Arthur really wanted them to have the ranch, it would make him happy. She gently took the papers out of Sadie's hands and scanned through them.
“I guess we don't even have a choice, John.” She smiled, looking down at the papers in her hands. “Our names are written all over these documents.” She looked up, meeting Arthur's eyes. “Thank you, Arthur. This means the world to us.”
Arthur’s lips curled up in a small smile, looking a bit uncomfortable as he scratched the back of his head. “I know, no need to thank me.” He grunted uncomfortably.
John still looked none too pleased. “You can't be serious, Arthur.” He said as he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you giving us the ranch at all. But I'd rather you keep the ranch and stay here with us.”
“I made up my mind, I'm leaving, John.” Arthur replied simply.
“But why? What’s the problem, Arthur? Aren't we good enough, is that it?” John knew he was saying things he would regret later.
Arthur frowned. “It's not you or any one of you, you idiot.” He growled. “It's this goddamn ranch with all of its goddamn memories.”
“So you just gonna leave us, when we're finally living a bit of a stable life?” John spat, letting his anger get the better of him.
“You gonna lock me up as well so you can keep me here, John? Cause I've had more than enough of that bullshit.” Arthur snarled as he grabbed his glass of bourbon and gulped it all down in one go, giving the other a challenging look as he smashed the glass back down on the table. He felt a large hand clasp on his shoulder and he looked to his side, his eyes meeting with Charles's calm, but slightly worried ones. He was losing his cool again, it happened more and more often the last couple of weeks. A sign he wasn't doing that well, he noted.
“I'm coming with you.” Charles said, keeping his eyes on Arthur's. He had stayed silent and listened for the whole time. He looked at Arthur and there was a look in his eyes that said none could change his mind. “I think John, Abigail and Sadie feel a lot better knowing I'll keep an eye on you.”
“I can take care of myself..” Arthur grumbled, slumping in his seat as he fumbled with the empty glass in his hands. Probably looking a bit like a kid.
“I know.” Charles said, saying nothing more.
Arthur sighed. “Sure… fine.” He grumbled, sounding a bit defeated.
“But…” John wanted to start again.
“Oh shut up, will you?” Sadie snorted. “Can't you see what's best for Arthur? The man’s finally gonna take care of himself!” She crossed her arms, staring the other down.
“I know, I know…” John sighed. “…I'm sorry, Arthur.” He scrubbed his hand across his face. “I'm just worried, you know?” He knew it was probably the best thing for Arthur to get out of here and clear his head, didn't mean he got to like it though.
“Don't be.” Arthur grunted, giving him a more sympathetic look. “I can handle it, just got to clear my head for a bit.”
John nodded slowly and stared at the other. “As long as you drop by once in a while.”
“Sure thing.”
……………………………………
The next morning, Arthur got up early, packing his belongings. He didn't have much left, most of his belongings were still in his wagon, back at the Van der Linde camp. If there even still was a camp left anyways. Most of his belongings he still had, he had gotten from Eric. His clothes, his guns, his journal, his horse Capucine, the pocket watch, almost everything. He should try and make some money, shooting some game, maybe start by buying a new coat. He didn't want to remember Eric by everything he owned.
Grabbing his saddlebags, he stuffed his belongings, some supplies and food inside of it and slung it over his shoulder. He limped outside and was met by Charles who was already sitting calmly on the steps of the veranda. He glanced back over his shoulder, nodding his head in greeting.
“Mornin'.” Arthur grunted and sat down next to the other man. It was the same spot where Eric had been shot, the same spot where he had been scrubbing the blood away after his death.
They sat in silence for a while, looking out over the property, Arthur trying to enjoy the morning sun that was starting to peep through. They would leave soon. It was tempting to just go without saying their byes. Jack didn't even now yet and Arthur wasn't really eager on telling him.
He heard a soft purr next to him and looked to his side, looking into Egg's big green eyes. He chuckled when the cat jumped into his lap and lay down, purring obnoxiously. Charles raised his brows in amusement, but said nothing. He must've experienced Egg's quirkiness himself a couple of times the last couple of weeks. The cat saw no danger in anyone and tried to smother everyone he met.
“I actually wanted to ask you for a favor.” Charles broke the comfortable silence between them watching Arthur stroke the cat's head.
Arthur glanced at him, giving the other his full attention, urging him to continue. It wasn't often that Charles Smith would ask anyone a favor.
“Dutch messed up some folks before we got out, I want to go back to them, help them out. They're good people.”
“Sure…” Arthur said slowly. He wasn't too keen on being around folks he’d never met before at the moment, but didn't want to deny Charles's request. “Where are they staying?”
“The Wapiti Indian Reservation up in Ambarino, North of Fort Wallace.”
Arthur nodded, he'd heard about them before, treated like trash by the government. He wondered what Dutch's part was in all this, he'd have to ask Charles later. Back in the days, these were the kinds of folk he and the gang used to help out, not make their lives even harder. The feeling of nostalgia hit him hard, times were good back then. With Hosea still by their side and no law breathing down their necks. Sure it hadn't been easy back then neither, but compared to now it felt like a gentle breeze caressing his face instead of the violent wind he felt ripping at his skin as he thought how messed up everything was right at the moment.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard soft footsteps stepping up behind them. He looked back, seeing Abigail holding a cup of coffee in her hands. He hadn't even heard her coming down the stairs and start making the hot steamy beverage in front of the fireplace.
“Morning.” She said, they nodded their heads in greeting. “There's coffee inside, if you want.” She sat down next to them on the steps and looked down at the cat in Arthur's lap and chuckled. “Jack adores that silly cat.”
Arthur chuckled as well, ruffling Egg's little head, the cat giving him an annoyed look in return.
“So when are you fellers leaving then?” She asked, bringing the cup to her lips, blowing to cool the hot beverage.
They shrugged both in unison. “I guess when everyone's awake.” Arthur replied eventually, scratching his chin.
Abigail nodded, sipping her drink and staring out over the property.
“I want to thank you again, Arthur. This ranch, it's amazing.” She said, turning to look him in the eyes. “Jack will be so happy when he hears this will be his new home. The boy's done being dragged around the country… You're a good man, Arthur Morgan.”
Arthur looked away flustered, feeling a bit embarrassed, never good at receiving nor accepting thanks or compliments. “I’m not, but it's fine, Abigail. You and the boy deserve the best.” He grunted, noticed how Charles was looking at him in mild amusement.
Abigail nodded and smiled a soft smile, bringing the cup of coffee to her lips, taking a sip before giving Arthur a stare he couldn't quite read. “You should go now.” She spoke up, slightly startling the other two. “I'll tell them I told you to go.”
“What?” Arthur looked at her in surprise.
“I know you don't like saying goodbyes, Arthur. And that idiot husband of mine won't make it any easier for you.” She said, putting the cup of coffee down and standing up. “I'll explain it to them. It's okay.”
“Uhh…” Arthur hesitated, knowing the others wouldn't like this one bit.
Charles stood up as well. “Come on, friend.” He stretched out his hand for Arthur to take it.
Arthur nudged Egg off his lap, gave it a final pet and took the offered hand, allowing himself to get helped up on his slightly unstable legs. His leg still wasn't quite right, the wound had mostly healed up, but most of the day he was in pain, even worse at the end of a hardworking day. He wasn't able to walk without a limp and often when no one was looking, he would grab a stick, pitchfork, shovel, whatever he could find, to lean on or to help him with walking and relieve himself from the pain when he was walking. it's what the doctor had warned him for. He wondered if he would ever be able to run again. He tried running, when he had chased some coyotes off the perimeter, his leg ended up collapsing underneath him with him falling into the dirt.
He stood there, turned and let his eyes wander over the house, the memories it brought. He hadn't stayed here for that long, but it felt like he had been here for ages. He decided it would take a long time before he entered Saint Denis again, the mansion over there would probably make him feel a whole lot worse. He sighed, grunted an ‘okay' to no one in particular and slung the saddlebags over his shoulder, limping alongside Charles to the corral, his eyes landing on Capucine. He could be imagining things, but it seemed like she was already waiting for him. Her ears perked and she had a look in her eyes that said she was ready to go. Smart horse.
Arthur turned to see Charles coming out of the barn with Capucine’s tack. He put it down next to Arthur's feet and went back for Taima's. Abigail watched them as they saddled their horses and took them out of the corral, she walked after them as they led their companions to the front of the house.
Arthur sighed, stroking the horse's soft snout, not knowing why he was having so much difficulty leaving. It wasn't a goodbye, he would return. It just felt strange, it felt like he was finally getting his freedom back, even though Eric had been dead for multiple weeks already. He still felt a prisoner when he was here at Carmody Dell, a prisoner inside a jail of memories, shame and regret. He turned to Abigail, who matched his sorrow look, she walked up to him and pulled him in for a tight hug.
“Now you hang in there, Arthur Morgan.” She said smiling, but looking sad at the same time. “Promise me you come back to us a new man.”
He smiled a small smile back at her, looked down at the reins in his hand as he absentmindedly stroked Capucine's neck. “Sure thing.” He said and watched her turn to Charles.
“Take care of him, Charles. And yourself of course.” She hugged him as well, let go and stood back, watching the men climb up in their saddles.
“Arthur!” A voice suddenly yelled and Arthur glanced at the house, John coming out holding something dark in his hands. He looked pretty angry.
He stormed over to them. “Goddammit! You were planning on leaving without saying a goddamn goodbye?”
“Shut it, John. I told them they should go.” Abigail huffed and held onto his shoulders.
“Why would you do that?” He argued, pulling his shoulders out of her grip. “I wanted to give this back to Arthur.” Only now did Arthur realize that the thing John was holding onto seemed awfully familiar. John walked up to him, looking up at him on his horse.
“Last week I went back to our camp up in Beaver Hollow.”
“You did what?” Abigail piped in.
“Shut it, Abigail.” John turned to her, growling in annoyance. “We rushed out of the place when the Pinkertons came barging in, I went back to get some of our stuff back, I found some of Arthur's as well.” He turned back to Arthur. “I couldn't find your guns though, but I found your satchel, your journal and your hat..” He handed them to Arthur.
Arthur swallowed thickly, not really knowing what to say, taking his belongings from the other man. He slung his satchel over his shoulder and looked down at the trusty hat in his hands. “Thank you, John…” He grunted, frowning when his voice seemed to betray his emotions. He put the hat on top of his mop of hair, right where it belonged.
John nodded and squeezed Arthur's lower arm. “I'll see you, brother.”
Arthur nodded, took one last look at the house, seeing Sadie behind Jack standing in the opening of the doorway, holding the boy's shoulders. She waved him a simple wave, he waved back at her. He turned to Abigail and John, giving them a long look before turning his attention to Charles. “Let's go.”
They spurred off and rode silently, steering into the mountains of the Grizzlies. Arthur looked back over his shoulder, seeing Abigail still waving at them in the far distance. He would come back to them. Rather sooner than later. And when he would, he would be a new man, no shell of the man he was now.
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