Unbound

Chapter 18

"All I'm saying is," She straightened out her red and black waistcoat, trying to smooth out the large crease that had formed, "You have every right to despise me and my gang, but he deserves to have a familiar face at his side."

"Right," Arthur nodded, "A gang who rapes, plunders, sells people, and tortures and kills those who they don't see eye to eye happens to have one member who's free of all sin."

"He's not the worst one."

Granted, Peter had done some very questionable things that tipped his honour further into the red than the white, but he hid it well behind a bashful personality and friendly demeanour. Hell, he even treated prisoners and hostages as friends. Didn't sit well with a majority of the O'Driscolls, though.

"An O'Driscoll that hasn't killed a child or massacred a family," He exited the hotel and made for his horse, "And I'm the Queen of England."

Her brows lowered, but she was silent, watching Arthur as he climbed onto his horse. When his arm extended her way, she gave a look to the doctor's office, uttering a low 'I'll be back' before accepting his hand and climbing up behind him.

When he felt her hands resting gently at his sides, he spurred his horse and they broke out in a gallop, a burst of speed that narrowly missed a man who was crossing over to the general store.

The ride back was quiet, peaceful, even. He enjoyed her touch, as miniscule as it was, a hand moving to rest on hers, taking her hand, getting lost in his thoughts until there was a call from Lenny and he let go.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Lenny!" Arthur spoke loudly as he slowed to a trot, "How are you?"

"Stressed, but still glad to be off that mountain. You?"

"Fine, fine."

Halting at a post in camp, he made a gesture for Beth to dismount, which she did, so he could hitch up his horse.

"Beth, can we speak to you?" Javier questioned from the side, causing her to look over.

Her brows furrowed tightly and she assuringly placed her hand onto Arthur's shoulder before walking over to Javier, following him elsewhere into camp.

Arthur was cautious but decided not to overreact. He was growing too attached, and surely that wasn't all too good given the situation and their way of life. He reached into his saddle bags and pulled out Beth's hat before beginning to walk to the campfire.

"Arthur," John called out, making the older man halt, "Have you seen Abigail and Jack?"

"Lost 'em already, Marston?"

"C'mon, Arthur. Have you seen them or not?"

"No, I haven't." Upon seeing John's shoulders fall, he added, "Uh, why don't you try the horses? You know how Jack is."

"Thanks, Arthur." John gave a nod and then walked off to search for his girlfriend and son.

Arthur turned back around to finish walking to the campfire, taking a seat on an upturned log, placing Beth's hat beside him. An elbow rested on his lap while a hand reached into his satchel, fishing out a leather-bound book that had, written in oddly cursive writing, the name 'Bethany Schwipps'. It was her diary, and he had managed to swipe it from Dutch.

Did he look inside? No. But he was tempted. He moved to place it inside of her hat, eyes flickering to the floor as pictures floated to the ground. He placed the diary in her hat and reached down, picking up the photos to have a look.

The first was old; grainy, something Arthur could identify as definitely not recent. It depicted a gang, he assumed, of eight people posing with a stagecoach. His eyes scanned the relevance of such a photo, until his eyes landed on the young looking person stood atop the stagecoach itself, rifle held in both hands, stance strong, hat familiar but less beaten.