"He slowly moved on the General, preparing his knife, ready to grab his throat and drive the knife deep into his heart. Suddenly white hot pain exploded through his hand as a gunshot rang out, his gun having been shot out of his grasp!"
Jack gasps softly and leans further into Mary-Beth, reading along to her voice with wide eyes.
"His feet were kicked out from under him and a Schofield Revolver was pointed in his face. 'Jim Boy Calloway. What are you doing wearing that Deputy badge?' The man holding the revolver scoffed."
"Jack, whatcchu up to?" Arthur suddenly asks from above the two, nestled in the grass.
"Mary-Beth's reading the book you got me!" He chirps excitedly, suddenly grabbing the Penny Dreadful book and holding it up for Arthur to see, arms out stretched.
"You liking it?" Arthur asks, not acknowledging Mary-Beth.
"I love it uncle Arthur." Jack says, studying the cover thoughtfully. He jerks his head back up again. "Did you know Arthur got this for me?" He beams at Mary-Beth who shakes her head.
"No, I didn't. Ain't that nice." She says with a smile. It was a nice thing to do but her praise isn't for Arthur, it's simply to encourage Jacks chubby faced grin.
"Has Arthur ever given you a gift?" He cocks his head to the side, listening with utmost interest.
"He has actually. A fancy steel pen." Mary-Beth glances without meaning to at Arthur, who is glancing back. She quickly looks away.
"Wow." Jack breathes, as if it's the most incredible thing he's ever heard.
"Jack," Arthur continues. "Your momma thinks we should go fishing, just the two of us." He glances surreptitiously at Mary-Beth again.
"Fishing?" Jacks asks.
"Sure. You're... it's about time that you started to earn your keep."
"Okay. But only if Mary-Beth comes." Jack seems to be at the stage where he's testing out what exactly he can get people to do for him.
Mary-Beth and Arthur both make hesitant noises at the same time.
"I- I ain't sure Jack, I'm sure Mary-Beth has got lots to do."
"Uh yes... I have a lot do sorry Jack."
Jacks expression drops. "But I thought you said Miss Grimshaw said you can take the afternoon off."
This is true. It was a very rare thing to happen and Mary-Beth was ecstatic, now, she wishes it had happened another day.
"Oh well..." Jack had caught her out.
"Please Mary-Beth." He pleads. "You can learn how to fish with me! Especially if you have nothing else to do..." He shrugs comically.
Mary-Beth and Arthur share a look, this time not accidental. Mary-Beth searches his expression for a hint to whether or not he would care if she comes but his face is blank.
Mary-Beth would rather do anything than come, she would return to work happily, but Jacks hopeful face is too hard to reject.
"Oh sure, what the heck, let's go fishing!" She gets up and reaches down for Jacks hand who takes it eagerly.
Arthur gives Mary-Beth another brief look, still impossible to read. He brings his eyes back to Jack.
"Let's go get your pole then Jack. Now you do have a fishing pole, don't you?"
"I sure do. Uncle Hosea made me one."
"Good. Well let's go get it then, and go catch us some fish!"
"Yeah!" Jack laughs hurrying into camp to retrieve his fishing pole. Arthur mounts his horse.
Arthur's demeanour is surprising to Mary-Beth, he sounds so different to the man he usually is, but that's usually the effect children have on people.
Jack returns quickly, which is a relief to Mary-Beth. Arthur stows Jack's little fishing rod in his saddle, then effortlessly lifts Jack from the ground with one arm and rests him securely in front of him.
It's unfortunately undeniably attractive.
"Well? You coming?" Arthur speaks to Mary-Beth for the first time today, giving her a slightly irritated nod in response to her not moving.
"Oh yes. Of course." Mary-Beth hurriedly unhitches a camp horse and pulls herself into the saddle. Arthur nudges Artura forward quickly before Mary-Beth is ready so that she has to urge her horse to gallop after his.
When she catches up to Arthur, Jack is chatting curiously. "So where are we going?" He asks.
"Just down to the river near here. We shouldn't go too far from camp."
"Oh okay."
"You feeling better? I know you was a little sick." Arthur queries.
"Oh I'm fine."
"You're a brave kid."
"So, just like you."
Arthur chuckles. "Well I don't know about brave... I ain't much of a kid no more. Though your momma might disagree. Her and a few other women I guess..."
Mary-Beth wonders if Arthur realises she's listening, or if he meant for her to hear. If so, is he apologising or something? She doesn't have a clue.
"What do you mean?" Jack asks, apparently just as confused as Mary-Beth.
"Oh I'm just talking silly... it's been a tough few weeks up in that snow."
"I liked the snow." Jack chirps innocently.
"Yes but not like that."
"Me and Mary-Beth made a snowman."
Mary-Beth remembers that day. Jack was tugging on Abigail's sleeve, begging her to take him outside and play. Abigail was busy tending to injured John, or maybe scolding him, but either way there wasn't a chance she was going outside with Jack.
Mary-Beth saw how Jack was annoying his mother and decided to offer to take him out. It was a clear, sunny day, and if they bundled up they would be just fine.
So they went outside and made a snow man. It turned out very lopsided, but it was their creation nonetheless, and Jack was infinitely proud.
"What fun." Arthur smiles at Jack, who is peering back up at him. "Alright this is as good a spot as any." Arthur pulls to a halt near the river side. He lowers Jack to the ground before passing him his rod and hopping down himself.
Mary-Beth hesitates before she dismounts, wondering if she can make up some sort of excuse for leaving. As Arthur and Jack walk to the edge of the water, rods in hand, she realises she doesn't even have a rod and her being here, is really not necessary. Jack seems to have forgotten about how he desperately needed her to come earlier as Arthur helps him bait his hook.
Until he suddenly calls, "Mary-Beth are you gonna learn how to fish with me?"
"Of course, bud." Mary-Beth smiles, hopping down from her horse without further hesitation. "But maybe I could just watch and learn because I don't have my own rod."
Jacks face falls. "Oh." His expression lights up again. "Maybe uncle Arthur will let you use his!"
Why the little boy wants so desperately for Mary-Beth to fish, is a mystery to her.
Arthur's huffs quietly. "Sure." He says with a slight grumble. He passes the rod.
"Okay, to cast your line, swing the rod back over your shoulder and bring it forward in a smooth motion."
Mary-Beth follows direction, drawing the pole back over her shoulder. But apparently, not to Arthur's satisfaction as he places a hand on her back, the other on her elbow, lifting it so her rod hangs further back.
The touch was unnecessary, and makes Mary-Beth's skin tingle. Which angers her somehow.
She jerks her arm free by casting the line, far too aggressively. The line flails and falls short.
"Try again." Arthur says simply.
Mary-Beth winds the line back in, irritated.
"Use your wrist, not your elbow." Arthur says.
She draws the rod back and casts it, much smoother although she still feels tense. The lure lands in the water with a satisfying plop.
Jack, having waited and watched for Mary-Beth's final cast, casts his line well. "Like that?"
"That's it, good." Arthur praises. "All we do now, is wait for a fish to take the bait."
"How do I know if I've got a bite?" Jack asks.
"Well, if you feel the tip of your fishing rod just... twitching? Don't yank it yet, that just means one's nibbling. But if you feel a hard tug, that's a fish going for the bait, so yank hard to hook it."
Mary-Beth feels a twitch, like Arthur described. "I think I might have something." She murmurs. Suddenly her rod is tugged, hard, and she jumps forward slightly, startled.
Arthur grabs her waist to steady her, but thankfully doesn't linger. "Now, while it's fighting, just pull the rod against it to tire it out." He says from closer to her than he was last standing, his breath tickles her neck.
Mary-Beth does what he says, but again, Arthur isn't satisfied. "Like this." He says, closing his hands over hers and tugging the rod in the opposite direction that the fish is swimming in.
"I can do it myself." She hisses quietly.
"Okay." Arthur releases his grip. "Now reel it in."
Mary-Beth winds in the line, and pulls the rod against the fish when it struggles, until her catch is raised from the water.
Arthur pulls it from the hook and holds it up. "It's a chain pickerel, almost as small as you Jack." He chuckles. "We should really throw these smaller ones back, give 'em a chance to grow up a bit. That alright with you?" He asks Mary-Beth.
Mary-Beth lets herself feel a moment of pride for her catch, her first one ever. She's almost glad she came. The independent feeling of catching your next meal is something she enjoys, even if you don't end up eating it. She nods. Arthur throws it back.
She begins to wonder if he isn't so cold hearted as she thinks. But then reminds herself that it's just a fish.
Mary-Beth casts her line again just as Jack reels his own in. "Can I take a break from fishing?" He asks. "I wanna make something."
Arthur's hesitates. "Uh, okay." He glances at Mary-Beth again.
Jack wanders off towards the grass around a clump of boulders.
Mary-Beth wishes she hadn't cast again so soon so she could join Jack and leave Arthur to be. She feels his presence beside her, it irks her so. The audacity he has to touch her like that, after all that's happened, after Mary-Beth is sure it's all over, finally put to rest. Had she not made it clear enough? Does he not realise that he betrayed her trust? Betrayed her image of him? Does he not realise the horrible thing he did that day?
"I would appreciate if you could keep your hands to yourself Mr Morgan." She hisses.
"Just trying to help you out is all." He says plainly, either not noticing or not acknowledging Mary-Beth's evident anger.
"I mean it Arthur. We're done. Truly this time. I don't want you doing things like that again." The words feel so big, so conclusive that she has to swallow a lump in her throat.
Something flickers in Arthur's eyes, almost as if he's stung. Surely he couldn't expect anything different from her after what he'd done?
"I'm just tryna be civil for the boy." He growls, that familiar angry glimmer in his eyes that runs a shiver down Mary-Beth's spine.
"Fine." She says curtly, shoving the rod into Arthur's hands and turning to join Jack at the boulders. She has to shake the riled feeling that Arthur leaves her with.
Jack is holding a bunch of red flowers with long stems in his chubby hand when Mary-Beth reaches him.
"What are you up to Jack?"
"Making a necklace for momma. I have enough for you to make one too if you want."
"I would love to."
The two wander back to the waters edge and sit down on the stones, cross legged. Mary-Beth watches as Jack expertly ties the stems of the flowers together, his little fingers are surprisingly nimble.
She remembers learning the skill herself when she was his age. There was a field of wild flowers that grew near her childhood home in the warmer months. Mary-Beth and her mother often sat there and made flower necklaces, crowns, bracelets, anything really.
She remembers vividly the feeling of the afternoon sun on her face and the smell of the flowers, her mother sat next to her, slowly showing her the steps of tying the stems.
Jack is such a gentle little boy. Unlike other boys his age, all rough and tumble. Also unlike his father at that age most likely. Mary-Beth wonders how on earth the boy has become so gentle growing up in this environment. Abigail has certainly done right by him.
The two continue, contentedly silent, carefully tying stems until their necklaces are complete. Arthur catches a fish around the same time and stows it in his satchel before wandering over to them.
"Hey look at this!" Jack chirps, holding the necklace up for Arthur to see.
"At what?" Arthur squints from a few steps away still.
"This necklace I made." Jack says proudly.
"Necklace?" Arthur echoes doubtfully, crouching down to meet Jack.
"For momma."
"Sure." Arthur chuckles. Mary-Beth watches as a small smile spreads across his face. A mixture of pride and love towards the kind hearted boy.
"What a fine young man." A man's voice suddenly comes from behind them. Arthur stands rapidly, Mary-Beth follows suit, grasping Jacks hand and pulling him up with her.
Two men have arrived on horseback, both dressed in similar uniform. The first man dismounts. "In such complex circumstances." He pronounces slowly.
"And you, poor young miss," he's looking at Mary-Beth now. "Down on your luck? Taken up with these depraved lunatics?" He tuts. Mary-Beth scowls.
"Arthur isn't it? Arthur Morgan?"
The second man cocks a shot gun, falling into step behind the first.
"Who are you?" Arthur asks solemnly. He gently pushes Mary-Beth behind him.
"Yes, Arthur Morgan. Van der Linde's most trusted associate." The man turns to his partner, as if chatting to him. "You've read the files, typical case, orphaned street kid seduced by that maniacs silver tongue and matures into a degenerate murderer."
Mary-Beth watches Arthur's shoulders tense ever so slightly, she feels the urge to reach for his hand, give it a squeeze or something.
"Agent Milton. Agent Ross." Milton introduces. "Pinkerton detective agency seconded to the United States government . Nice to finally meet." They step closer.
"We know a lot about you."
"Do you?" Arthur asks huskily.
"You're a wanted man, Mr Morgan. There's five thousand dollars for your head alone."
Mary-Beth's heart lurches, her stomach drops, the number a painful reminder.
"Five thousand dollars? For me? Can I turn myself in?" Arthur jokes casually.
"We want Van der Linde."
"Old Dutch? I haven't seen him for months."
"That so? Because I heard a guy fitting his description robbed a train belonging to Leviticus Cornwall up near Granite Pass."
"Oh, ain't that a little old fashioned nowadays." Arthur chuckles somewhat nervously.
"Apparently not." Milton raises his hands and steps closer to the three.
Mary-Beth notices Jack suddenly grab for Arthur's hand. Arthur takes Jacks tiny hand in his, behind his back, and squeezes it reassuringly.
"Listen, this is my offer, Mr Morgan. Bring in Van der Linde and you have my word, you won't swing."
"Oh, I ain't gonna swing anyways Agent, um..."
"Milton."
"You see, I haven't done anything wrong aside from not playing the games to your rules." Arthur growls.
"Spare me the philosophy lesson I've already heard it... from Mac Callander." Milton Barks.
Arthur shifts. "Mac Callander?" He repeats uneasily.
"He was pretty shot up by the time I got to him so really it was more of a mercy killing. Slow... but merciful."
This pains Mary-Beth to hear, she loved Mac just the same as the others did. Sure he was rough and hot headed, but he most certainly had a heart. Arthur especially liked Mac. He hangs his head slightly now before suddenly throwing his fishing rod to the ground.
This earns a yelp from agent Ross who scrambles to raise his shotgun.
"You enjoy being a rich man's toy do you?" Arthur growls viciously.
"I enjoy society, flaws and all. You people venerate savagery and you will die savagely. All of you." Milton hisses vindictively.
"Oh we're all gonna die agent."
"Some of us sooner than others." Milton turns. "Good day, Mr Morgan."
Ross backs up towards their horses, keeping the gun aimed on Arthur.
Milton suddenly stops before mounting. He turns slowly. "Oh, Miss?"
Mary-Beth steps out from behind Arthur tentatively, letting go of Jacks hand.
"Yes, you. I can offer you something similar, even better. You turn in Van der Linde and I promise, you can walk away from this mess, unscathed, with enough money to set you up for life." He smiles slightly, a cunning glimmer in his eyes.
His promise is tempting, but the exchange, unthinkable. Of course she would never. She can feel Arthur's apprehensive gaze on her.
"No thank you." She says decisively.
"My offer always stands." He replies, his eyes locked on her. The two agents mount their horses and take off.
"Who are they?" Jack asks.
"No one to worry about. No one at all. Come on, let's pick up your things and get home."
* * *
"There you are!" Abigail calls excitedly as they hitch their horses. "How'd you get on?"
"Great! Mary-Beth and Arthur caught a fish, and I made you this necklace." He hands Abigail the red flower chain.
"Ain't that pretty? Ain't I the luckiest— did you thank Uncle Arthur?"
"No need. We had a good time. You did real fine kid." He hands Jack his home made fishing rod and he and Abigail walk off. Abigail mouths a thank you to Arthur over her shoulder.
"You didn't take his offer." Arthur says to Mary-Beth, patting her camp horse.
She scoffs. "You really think I'm that feeble?"
Arthur chuckles. "I certainly don't think you're feeble. I just— I don't know, after that talk about leaving the gang, I thought you might..."
"Well you thought wrong. I would never. And I'm offended you would ever think that." Mary-Beth huffs.
"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry." Arthur raises his hands defensively.
"Anyway, thanks for that outing... I guess." Mary-Beth says. "But I should probably get back to it, and I'm sure you have money to beat out of folk or something." She says darkly, hoping he knows that it's not forgotten.
"Sure, of course." Arthur says slowly, his face blank.
He stalks away and Mary-Beth feels that she may have been too harsh, but only for a moment.