Boundless » Arthur Morgan

5

Arthur chuckled under his breath. "I doubt ghosts are what should be worrying you."

"Then maybe you don't have your priorities straight. I've heard strange tales, like one about a woman wailing for help by Bluewater Marsh. Travelers hear her cries in the night," I made my voice dramatically ominous, though I truly had heard retellings of the tale. I regret to say it has kept me up a few nights.

"I'll tell you what, I see a ghost lurking near you, I'll shoot at it."

I laughed. "I don't think ghosts are affected by bullets, Arthur."

"No, but the sound will alert you and give you enough time to run."

"Oh, and you couldn't warn me by simply yelling, Violet, ghost?"

"My instinct in dangerous situations is to reach for the gun on my hip, not start wailin'. You got me mistaken for Uncle."

Arthur whistled for his horse and rummaged through the saddle, pulling out a couple of bedrolls and a tent.

"I think we better camp here," he said, moving into the forest clearing to set up the tent. "Time surely got away from us, Miss Adler."

"Do you think they'll be worried?" I asked, referring to the rest of the gang.

"No," he said easily. "I do this sort of thing a lot."

"Leave camp for a couple days? I've noticed. You're a busy man."

"A restless one, for sure. Could you get a fire going, while I finish setting up the tent?"

We worked in companionable silence. I hadn't even felt inclined to argue, when he suggested we stay here for the night. I was having the first entirely good day I'd had in some time and I couldn't be faulted for wanting to prolong it. The bad memories were there like a scar, but aching less, as Arthur and the hunt monopolized the day's energy.

Did that make me selfish, I wondered? Enjoying a day in nature, when my family had been buried beneath it only weeks ago?

I gazed into the fire thoughtfully, rubbing my hands together near the flames to warm them.

Arthur cooked a bit of the deer meat over the fire, enough to satiate the two of us. I accepted mine gratefully.

"Yesterday," I spoke up, after we ate. "You left camp in quite a hurry."

His expression shifted and he stared adamantly at the flames. "I did."

"Was it Mary Linton?"

"Yes," he answered. When I suspected that he wouldn't offer more than that, he continued, "She needed my help. Her little brother, Jamie, was runnin' with some cult in the mountains. He's a good kid, always was, so really, I suppose I just wanted to help him. But..." he shook his head. "I don't know."

"That's kind of you," I said sincerely.

"Foolish of me, more like."

"You loved her once. It's understandable." His eyes shot to mine and I blushed. "Uh, Grimshaw told me a few things."

"'Course." He took his hat off and placed it on his lap. "But since Susan holds a grudge like Mary and I just split yesterday, I should clarify it was a long time ago."