"Arthur?" Charles leaned back and stared, incredulous at this turn of events. It was his friend, true enough, if a little worse for wear. A few waning bruises and scratches occupied his face, but he was nowhere near death.
In fact, Arthur grinned widely, displaying an abundance of good health. "How'd you find me way up here?"
His shock fading, Charles returned his own enthusiastic smile and admitted, "Truthfully, my friend, I wasn't expecting to find you above ground."
Arthur chuckled, in surprisingly good spirits. "Apparently, hell ain't ready for me yet."
Charles shook his head, shedding the rest of his disbelief. "Apparently, not."
Arthur glanced at the woman in the doorway. She'd lowered her gun, but was watching the two of them with clear apprehension. "Charles, this here is Mrs. Charlotte Balfour. Charlotte, Charles Smith, a good friend of mine."
At the introduction, Charlotte bestowed him a friendly smile for the first time, her wariness at last disappearing. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith. Any friend of Arthur's is a friend of mine."
He nodded to her. "You can call me Charles, ma'am. And my apologies for startling you."
"Oh, let's put it behind us, shall we?" she said graciously. "Why don't you two hitch the horses and come settle in? I was just about to put on a pot of coffee."
Arthur returned to his mare as Charles collected Taima. He followed Arthur to the front of the shed and they hitched their horses next to each other. His thoughts were spinning. As he'd heard from Johnny in Van Horn, Charlotte had found Arthur and now Charles was bearing witness to just how much she'd helped him.
But why had Arthur stuck around? He was upright and well enough to ride a horse. Why hadn't he tried to reach out at his first opportunity?
Charlotte smiled upon them as they entered the cabin, placing two mugs on the table. The room was sparsely decorated, making Charles wonder if Charlotte had only recently moved in. Arthur had introduced her as Mrs. Charlotte Balfour, but there weren't signs of a husband sharing this space. He remembered the dug grave at the bottom of the hill and could speculate as to who she had newly lost.
As she moved back to the stove to stir the contents of a pot, Charles commented, "This is a beautiful corner of the country you have up here."
Charlotte turned and said softly, "Yes, I've been incredibly lucky in that regard. If I could only learn to make more use of it."
Charles told her with honesty, "From what I can see, you seem to be doing well enough."
"Much of that is thanks to Arthur," she said in obvious gratitude. "More than I can ever repay, I fear."
Arthur protested, "There ain't nothin' to repay."
"Tell me, Charles," Charlotte asked as she poured the coffee, "has Arthur always been so stubbornly modest?"
The two went back and forth for a minute while Charles watched their exchange closely. They seemed comfortably familiar with each other, as if they'd been acquaintances for some time. But Charles didn't recall any mention of Arthur having a friend in the area, especially of anyone of any significance. Yet, he was witnessing a side of Arthur he'd never seen before as he grew ever more intrigued at this dynamic he'd stumbled upon.
Eventually, Charlotte picked up her mug from the table and said, "I'll leave you boys to catch up."
Before she left their company, she paused by Arthur's chair to squeeze his shoulder and smile down with discernible fondness. She told him to call her in if he needed anything and then she was out the door. Charles raised a brow, his assumption that they were more than friends gaining traction.
After Charlotte left, he ventured, "Retired life suits you, my friend. You look better than you have in a long time."
"I ain't retired," Arthur denied, almost moodily, as he moved to change the subject, "What do you know, Charles? Last I saw of you, you were about to help Rains Fall move the tribe north."
Charles debated a moment on whether to pursue the discussion of Arthur's new life or answer him and move on. For now, he said, "Rains Fall and I got his people settled somewhere safe. Then I heard about the Pinkerton raid down here. What happened, Arthur?"
Arthur's expression turned grim as he dove into an explanation of how the gang fell apart, the last train robbery they'd accomplished, how he'd helped John escape, and his final confrontation with Micah and Dutch. Having been witness to the lead up of it all, it was the result Charles had expected. All except for the specifics of Miss Grimshaw's fate.
Arthur told him that it was Micah who had shot her. Charles had assumed the Pinkertons had killed her during their raid. Things must have gotten real bad if the gang had devolved into killing each other, especially when it involved the death of one of their loyalest members.
Charles informed Arthur, "I buried her, up the valley overlooking the lake."
Arthur's hands resting on the table clenched his fists. "I tried to get Dutch to see Micah for what he was, but he wouldn't listen."
Charles said with regret, "I should've been there."
"No, you shouldn't have," Arthur replied firmly. "You'd likely be dead."
"As dead as you?" Charles remarked, thinking of all the newspapers displaying Arthur's face. "No one knows Arthur Morgan is alive, not even the law."
"Really?"
Charles explained how the Pinkertons thought Arthur's body had been taken by wild animals. He told him how he'd come to Van Horn, of the young man he'd overheard speaking of an outlaw fatally shot on the cliffs. "How did you get out of there?"
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "That would be Charlotte. She somehow figured I were involved with the shootout and found me on the mountain. Owe her my life on that one."
Charlotte must have a strong disposition as she'd managed to elude authorities to bring Arthur here, and had nursed him back to health from near death on her own. Because it was true that Charles thought Arthur was looking better than when he had last seen him. Even his cough wasn't as prominent. But it wasn't just in physicality that he'd improved. Besides the bruises and scrapes, there was less of a worried scowl etched in Arthur's features.
"You heard anything from anyone else?" Arthur asked, almost eagerly. "John? Sadie? The rest of them?"
"No, nothing. Likely, they're all laying low, same as you." Charles thought a moment, recalling the gossip on his trip down. "Someone sounding like Micah might be recruiting men in Lakay."
"Back in the swamps?"
"That's what I've heard."
At this news, Arthur's face fell into a melancholic contemplation. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Hear anything on Dutch?"
"Only that he's alive."
Arthur's expression darkened and he sunk into a deeper silence. All the worry that Charles had noted a moment ago as being absent began to make its way back into Arthur's features. Charles nearly regretted telling Arthur about Dutch and Micah because a dark, murderous gleam lit his eyes.
When he wasn't forthcoming about his thoughts, Charles prompted him, "What are you thinking, Arthur?"
"If Micah's this damn close, it'd be stupid not to go after him."
"Maybe," Charles hedged, not liking the glint in his eye. "But what about..." He tilted his head to the window to indicate Charlotte outside, bringing her back to the forefront of the conversation.
"What's she got to do with it?"
Charles eyed him skeptically at the defensive tone. Did he not care about disrupting this new life he'd settled in? "If we do this, you run the risk of bringing awareness to the fact you're still alive. That might be the end of the line."
"It's already the end of the line," Arthur snapped. "If I finish Micah off, we'll all be a lot safer. And happier."
Charles asked point-blank, "How's your woman going to take that?"
Arthur scowled. "She ain't my woman."
Charles took the opportunity to insert some levity. "Then you must not be trying hard enough."
"Shut up, Charles."
Charles cracked a smile, pleased to be able to exchange barbs with a friend again. But he sobered at the idea that Arthur's need to go after Micah outweighed the tranquility of their current setting. "You really want to do this?"
"I feel like I ain't got a choice."
Charles frowned as that wasn't an especially confident answer, but he held back from voicing his opinion. Arthur's set expression proved it would be futile to disagree. "If that's the case...I'll head down to Annesburg for guns and ammunition."
"Good idea."
Charles stood, heading for the door. "I'll have a camp set up down on the riverbank. You can find me there if this is what you decide."
"I already decided it," Arthur grumbled behind him.
As they left the cabin, Charlotte looked up from her garden. As they headed for the horses, she stood and brushed off her hands. "Charles, you're not staying? There's not a lot of room here, but I could fix something up for you."
Her invite warmed him, as it been a long time for him to receive one. "Sorry, ma'am. You're very kind to offer, but I think you and Arthur have some things to discuss in private."
Arthur glared his way as Charlotte turned to him with confusion.
Charles mounted Taima and nodded down to Charlotte. "Thank you for your hospitality, and for taking care of my friend here."
"It's been my pleasure," she said, and by her tone, he knew she meant it.
Charles sent Arthur a pointed look. "I'll see you later, Arthur."
XXXXXXXXXX
Charles left Willard's Rest, but his mind remained heavy, disturbed by his conversation with the newly resurrected Arthur.
For the first time since Charles had known him, he'd witnessed Arthur relaxed. Arthur seemed in denial of it, but with Charlotte taking care of him, he'd shed his tension.
But as soon as Arthur started asking about the gang, his demeanor had changed. It was like he had reverted back to his former persona as the gang's muscle, choosing a familiar course rather than a possibly more comfortable one.
It was foolish. Truthfully, Charles felt a sort of envy for Arthur's current position. Somehow, without even trying, he'd found himself a home, with a woman willing to protect and care for him. Arthur had been gifted a second life, with no one of consequence the wiser as to his whereabouts, which was why Charles didn't feel right about being the one to tear him away from it.
This burden weighing on his mind, Charles made his way into Annesburg. He stopped at the general store for supplies, and then the gunsmith, to purchase what they needed to go after Micah. He knew Arthur favored a rifle so he bought one and plenty of ammunition.
When he completed his purchases, Charles led Taima back to the campsite he'd spotted earlier in the day, when he'd still been of the belief he needed to find Arthur's body.
It was at the bottom of Roanoke Ridge with plenty of shade and cover should Murfrees attempt to ambush him. The river glided through the land nearby. He loosed Taima so she could drink freely from it while he organized the items he'd bought.
The hours passed into night, but there was no sign of Arthur. Charles didn't know whether he should feel relieved or disappointed that Arthur had changed his mind. He kept the fire going, but readied for sleep.
Charles couldn't blame Arthur if he came to the realization just what he'd be risking. Or if Charlotte had convinced him to stay. Yet, a small part of Charles had been glad to have a friend to collaborate with again, and a plan of action to move him forward.
Charles got some sleep, and when there was still no sign of Arthur by morning, he decided he would make the trip up to Willard's Rest to confirm Arthur's decision and say his farewells again.
As he was packing up his gear, a voiced called from the hill trail, "Hey, Charles!"
Charles wasn't sure what to feel as he turned around and greeted Arthur. Surprisingly, there was one more to their company. "Hello, Arthur. Charlotte."
She sat behind Arthur on the horse and kept glancing downward, as if she were ill at ease being up so high. Yet she responded to him in her already familiar friendly manner. "Good morning, Charles."
Charles told Arthur, "When you didn't show up last night, I thought you'd changed your mind."
It was Charlotte who apologized. "I fear that's my doing. I asked Arthur to wait until the morning to give me a ride into Annesburg."
"And he brought you here?"
Arthur told him, "It were closer to come to you first than goin' into town and ridin' back up the hill."
Charles raised a brow as it sounded like a more complicated plan than necessary to his ears. Almost as if he wanted Charlotte along. "Let me put out this fire and I'll be ready to head out."
Arthur led the way back up the hill while Charles followed behind. Since Arthur had brought her, he decided to begin a conversation with Charlotte.
"What did you need in Annesburg, ma'am?"
"Actually, I'm only stopping into Annesburg to catch a coach to Saint Denis," Charlotte explained.
"Are you from Saint Denis?"
"Oh, no. I'm actually from Chicago. My family is visiting, but they-particularly my mother-doesn't much care for my newest accommodations."
"Ah," Charles nodded. He couldn't seem to help himself in questioning this woman who had such an invested interest in Arthur. "How long have you lived out here?"
"It's been quite a few months now."
"And how long have you known Arthur?"
"Oh." Charlotte scrunched her nose as she thought.
While she did so, Arthur turned his head to shoot Charles a sharp look. He ignored it. If Arthur wanted to involve her, he was going to find out more about her.
Charlotte didn't take notice of their silent exchange as she explained, "Nearly as long as that. We-my husband and I, that is-weren't here long before he passed away."
Then Charles was right about her being recently widowed.
"Arthur found me about a week after that and was gracious enough to teach me some survival skills and keep checking up on me."
"Interesting."
"What is?" Arthur asked him suspiciously.
"You haven't always been so selfless with your time." He remembered specifically how reluctant Arthur had been about helping that German family they'd found in Dewberry Creek. Arthur wasn't keen on committing good deeds, or so he always claimed. Yet, it seemed he'd had no trouble involving himself when it came to a pretty widow.
Arthur grunted while Charles continued his conversation with Charlotte all the way to Annesburg. Normally, he wasn't much of a talker, but Charlotte made it easy, especially as she seemed just as curious with her own questions.
Arthur was quick to steer the topics away from anything getting close to the gang, or what they'd been up to the last few months. Charles had plenty of openings to let slip something Charlotte would find interesting, but Arthur should trust him to not reveal anything incriminating. Mostly, it amused him how Charlotte did her best to navigate Arthur's obstructions.
As they neared Annesburg's post office, Charlotte told them, "You can let me off here."
Arthur lowered her from the saddle. He dropped down next and loosed her bag while she patted the horse. When Arthur handed over her bag, she thanked him.
Charlotte turned to face them both and nodded. "Well, I wish the two of you safe travels. Goodbye, Arthur, Charles."
Charles nodded silently as Arthur mounted up. He expected they'd be on their way immediately, but Arthur took the time to look back in the direction of Charlotte, where she was paying for her stage coach.
There was something indecisive in his eye and then he suddenly dismounted again, saying, "Give me a minute, Charles."
"Take all the time you need, my friend," Charles replied in amusement and he watched the scene in front of him.
Arthur clearly didn't want to say goodbye to Charlotte. There was a connection there that even he had picked up on. He watched Arthur approach Charlotte, slowing his pace as he neared her. Charles couldn't hear their conversation, but he observed their body language.
A nervous gesture of Arthur's appeared, where he rubbed his neck, revealing his uncertainty. Charlotte watched him hopefully, as if silently urging him to change his mind about leaving.
But the driver called for her to board and Arthur held her hand as he assisted her up. They kept their hands together through the window, even after she'd taken her seat.
These two were not mere patient and caretaker, friends, or happy acquaintances. There were real feelings drawing them together. Then why did Arthur want so badly to go after Micah? The bastard was in need of a thrashing, but at what cost?
Arthur kissed Charlotte's knuckles tenderly just before the coach set off. Then he watched it roll down the road before rejoining Charles and the horses. He mounted up without a word and Charles didn't comment as he led the way towards Lakay at a casual pace.
The further they rode, the less confident Charles felt about their whole mission today. Chasing down Micah wouldn't be easy, especially if he'd managed to convince more than a few men to follow him. It would be dangerous and revenge wasn't worth Arthur's possible death. Charles had only just found him alive. This wasn't the right way to go about it at all.
"I see you shaking your head," Arthur said, "Just say it, Charles."
Charles encouraged Taima to move up beside Arthur and studied him a moment before asking, "Arthur, are you sure you want to go through with this?"
Arthur deflected, "You're the one who came to me."
"I came up here expecting to find a body to bury," Charles replied bluntly, causing Arthur to flinch. "But I'm glad to have found you alive. You're out of Dutch's reach now, you could survive. You're free. Do you want to ruin that?"
"Goddamn it," Arthur snapped and pulled on his reins. Charles did the same, stopping in the middle of the trail. "What are you saying?"
Charles had seen the glimpses of Arthur's contentment at Willard's Rest, and his reluctance at parting with Charlotte. "I want to know if you're running towards something, or away from something."
"What the hell do you think I'm runnin' from?"
Charles stared at him as it was obvious. A chance at living, and with a woman who clearly held him in high regard.
Arthur growled out, "You ain't makin' sense, Charles..."
Charles tried a different tactic. "Arthur, you have always been the first to advise someone against seeking revenge. You called it a fool's game. Why are you so keen on it now?"
"I ain't doin' it for revenge."
"Then, why?"
"I..." Arthur fumbled, flushing and clearly not wanting to admit the truth. He straightened his shoulders. "The things Micah's done-"
"Micah's involvement only sped up the inevitable. You know how Dutch was getting, reckless and unreasonable." Charles would never again view Dutch with any respect after how he'd involved Eagle Flies in his machinations. "He kept throwing us into bigger and bigger jobs, but they never amounted to much, if anything, except the attention of the authorities."
"If I don't do this, I'm leavin' it unfinished."
"It doesn't have to be you who finishes it."
Arthur hopped from his horse, frustrated as he marched in a circle. "Goddamn it, Charles! What do you want me to do? Leave them be?"
"If the authorities don't catch up with Micah or Dutch, something else will." It was the way of things, even if the consequences ended up long in coming.
Arthur's furious pacing halted. "What about findin' Marston and his family?"
"I think you've already done all you can for them at this point. The rest is up to John."
"That ain't as comforting a line as you think it is," he shot back and then shook his head. "And the others? You ain't concerned about none of them?"
"Sure I am. I didn't run with the gang as long as you, but some of them are my friends too." Charles patted Taima as she stepped anxiously from foot to foot at their raised voices. "but, I'm thinking now it might be best if none of us are seen in the same place. The girls are smart enough to blend and settle in somewhere. Everyone else knows how to make their own way. No one's new at starting over."
Arthur's brow furrowed, as if he were giving his words real thought.
Charles continued, "If you want to hunt down Micah and Dutch, you won't ride alone. I'll be by your side in a fight. But there's no guarantee we'll find one or both right away. Do you want to spend the rest of your days seeking vengeance?"
He seemed to be getting through, but Arthur continued to argue in a mocking way, "But you reckon I should disappear and start a new life too?"
"I'm saying, my friend," Charles stared directly at him so there was no misunderstanding. "You already have."
Arthur paused as if he hadn't given it consideration. Then he shook his head in denial. "You're settin' up like I can live a life with Charlotte. What if she won't have me?"
Charles scoffed at him. "After that never-ending sendoff I witnessed in Annesburg? I don't think you have to worry."
"And what about all the trouble that could follow me?"
Charles raised a brow, almost amused. "Since when are you concerned with trouble?"
"It ain't for my sake I'm thinkin'."
Charles asked reasonably, "Wouldn't you rather be with Charlotte if that trouble does come calling?"
Charles waited patiently as Arthur worked through his argument. Little did Arthur know, at this point Charles wouldn't be swayed to continue down this path. He could see with his own eyes that Charlotte was good for Arthur. She'd tamed the wilder side of the outlaw, even if it hadn't been her intention. If he had to, he'd use the rest of the night to change Arthur's mind.
"Goddamnit!" Arthur swore as he jumped back on his horse.
Charles asked, "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." Arthur clutched his reins. "Probably something stupid."
XXXXXXXXXX
"This is stupid, Arthur."
They were north of Lakay, beside a set of train tracks cutting into the swamps. They were alone, except for the wildlife. Toads croaked in a muddy pond and a set of cranes stood on one leg partially in the river. The water rippled, an innocuous motion to anyone unaware of the monsters beneath.
"She'll come 'round the bend soon," Arthur said confidently. "She'll slow enough for me to jump on."
Charles eyed the tracks with doubt. "Arthur, you've managed some crazy feats even in the short time I've known you, but jumping on a moving train?"
"I've done it plenty-a times before."
"Not like this." There was only a short distance of dry land before the grass turned swampy, and if he failed, Arthur would have the gators with which to contend. They drifted close to the shore, in anticipation for their next meal.
"You got a better idea?" Arthur shot back.
"Yes," Charles told him, crossing his arms. "Just ride down to Saint Denis on a horse."
"Won't get there fast enough."
"What's the rush?"
"You ain't met Charlotte's mama. Willing to bet that woman would hire thugs to drag Charlotte back home."
"You're exaggerating," Charles said, all the while wondering when Arthur had had time to meet Charlotte's family.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Charlotte don't want to go back to Chicago and I'm gonna ensure it. Ain't worth the risk of arrivin' too late and findin' out I'm right. Least I can do is be back-up for her."
Charles shook his head in defeat. "Alright, if you say so."
"Once I jump, you take hold of Jane here."
"Of course."
Arthur said seriously, "Thanks, Charles."
"I'll drop her off in Van Horn's stable for you to pick up later."
"Not just for that..." Arthur swallowed. "But for knockin' some sense into me today."
"Just make it worth it, Arthur."
"I will, but..." he released a sigh. "Still feels wrong, in a way. I know you don't get to live a bad life and still have good things happen to you."
Charles rested a hand on his shoulder. "Life is life, Arthur. Bad things don't only happen to bad people. Just as good things don't only happen to good people."
"Ain't that the truth."
"Besides all that, you don't need to continue a bad life and I know what I'd do if I were in your shoes."
Arthur exhaled. "Yeah." He glanced over and said unexpectedly, "But you'll find someone yourself one day, Charles."
Startled, Charles responded, "What?"
Arthur grinned wildly. "And I'll be right there to push you into doin' something stupid for her, just as you're doin' for me."
Charles looked away, unexpectedly affected. Something about Arthur's promise perturbed him deeply.
The train whistle cut the air, prompting a trio of egrets to fly off, but not causing any disruption among the lurking gators.
"There she is," Arthur declared, not noticing Charles' sudden change in demeanor. "I'll see you around, Charles."
"Good luck," Charles managed after clearing his throat.
Arthur saluted him and then took off on his horse Jane when the train neared. It wasn't a clean jump, and Charles suspected Arthur would have some shoulder pain later, but he made it without any obvious injury. Jane halted at the water's edge, just out of reach of the alligator half sunken on the lake's surface.
Charles raised a hand to Arthur's slowly disappearing figure. Arthur opened the door to the train car and casually slipped inside. If Arthur played his cards right, he'd end up content, as enamored with the woman who had saved his life as she was with him.
Charles collected Jane's reins and took his time leading her back to Van Horn. She was a docile creature and didn't need much prodding to know to follow.
Since he was coming in from the south of Van Horn, the first visual that welcomed him was a jailhouse that burnt down years ago. It served as a visceral warning for passing travelers that the law did not run this town.
He left Jane with the stable master, paying the man to hold her a few days. He also took the time to write a note, promising to visit Arthur the next time he traveled through this area.
After he was done, Charles had the option to pursue Micah on his own. He didn't consider it for long as he found no pleasure in the prospect. He saw little need to take action as it likely would only bring trouble on his head.
He cast a glance at the tavern in the middle of Van Horn, but decided against stopping in for a drink. He wasn't in the mood to deal with nosy locals berating him about lost princesses or accidentally getting involved in an unnecessary brawl.
Much as Charles was happy for Arthur, he found himself alone on the beaten trail once again with no direction or purpose. The only thing on his mind were Arthur's words beating in his head.
"You'll find someone for yourself one day..."
There was once a time Charles had given settling down in one spot some thought. But he'd never found the right place, the right people. The right person.
It was only in the last year he'd sought out more sustainable company. The gang had been enough for him and he'd enjoyed his time with them while it lasted.
For a long time, Charles had been as he was now, alone and wandering the country. He'd occasionally stop in a town, for a supply restock and maybe some paid female companionship, but he never stayed long.
But to have a woman anticipating his arrival home? Was there any woman who could accept him, in the same manner as Charlotte had taken in Arthur? He couldn't imagine her.
Charles looked at the moonlit path in front of him and spurred Taima forward, not entirely sure of his destination.