(A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update guys. I've been having pretty bad writer's block with this.)
As the afternoons turned into days, the days turned into weeks. Jane grew more in tune with her routine. She would wash clothes, then help Pearson with copping vegetables. At the end of the day, she and Arthur would sit, rather it be on the dock or one of their beds, and talk.
The gang was trying to play two rival families, the Grays and the Braithwaites. There was talk about some gold stashed between the two.
Arthur and some of the other boys were deputized in Rhodes, and Jane wouldn't stop teasing him about it.
She rode into Rhodes, Arthur driving the wagon next to her, with their elbows linked together.
"Man," she said, smirking slightly, "I feel a lot safer going into town with a deputy with me."
He shook his head, although it was almost indistinguishable from the constant bumping and bustling from the wagon.
"How many times do I gotta tell you it ain't funny? This was Dutch's idea- not mine." His voice was serious, but his face showed otherwise. He had a goofy grin on his face, one that he couldn't seem to get rid of when she was around. Jane was used to seeing 'all-business', solemn Arthur at camp, but as they spent more and more time together, she learned that he really did have a soft side. And she loved it.
She ran her fingers over the inside of his wrist. "I know; I'm just teasing. Don't you think it's strange that you're damning men that do the same thing we do, though?"
He hummed. "Yeah. I don't like it, but it's what Dutch thinks is best. It is a little genius, but it the cover won't last for long."
Soon enough, they arrived in Rhodes. It was a small, dusty town, but still significantly bigger than Valentine. People were scattered around, some waiting for a train, and others going about their lives.
Arthur pulled the wagon to a stop, and hopped off before offering her a hand. She landed on the ground with a hop which kicked up a little cloud of rusty dust.
"Now, I've got to go to the gunsmith across the way," he said, his hands resting on his gun belt. "Can you handle getting the supplies by yourself?"
She shoed some dust off of her skirt. "Yeah. Everything is on the list, right?"
He nodded swiftly, and turned away, heading down the street. Jane couldn't help but admire him as he meandered away. She was made aware of the butterfly feeling that never seemed to go away.
She watched him for another minute before realizing that she had a responsibility. Smoothing out wrinkled list that had been previously crinkled in her hand, she looked over the items.
It was mostly basics, like vegetables and health items, but at the bottom, in messy handwriting, a request for rum.
Probably Sean, she thought before heading into the store.
"Hello, Miss," the storekeeper greeted. He was old and looked gentle, and Jane found herself comparing him to Hosea. "What can I help you with today?"
"Hi there, sir. I have kind of a large list to cover today."
He nodded and he motioned for her to give him the list, which she did. For some reason, nerves spread throughout her as his eyes scanned the paper.
"What are you doing with all this stuff? It's enough to feed a small army."
Her fingers rung together. "It for my, um, it's for my family- actually a group of families. We're a caravan, um, a caravan from the north and we're going to... California, yeah, California for the gold. You know, with the talks for gold- it's all over in the North. Have you ever heard about the gold? My brother, he talks non-stop about it. Always blabbering about the gold." She stopped herself, and gave him a weak smile at the end of her spiel.
The settled awkwardness was cut when Arthur came through the door.
"Ah, there he is, my brother, Joe," she said, pulling the name out of thin air. "Joe, I was just telling this man about how we're going to California for gold, and how much you talk about it."
A confused expression rested on his face, but then he realized what she was doing, and went along with what she was saying with a sigh. "Yeah, there's a big talk of gold in California, sir. My... sister, here," he said, spitting out the word 'sister' like it was poison, "is supposed be getting supplies.
The poor shopkeeper, obviously overwhelmed and confused, nodded slowly before looking over the list, and began to gather the materials.
Arthur directed his attention to her. "You go out to the wagon. I'll stay and help him bring the things out."
She obliged, and left the two to sit in the wagon. Damn me and my big mouth, she cursed herself. Never know when to stop.
Around her, the quiet town seemed to let out a breath as it settled in the hot afternoon sun. The dry wind blew her hair out of her face.
After a few moments, Arthur and the shopkeeper came out, carrying full boxes. After loading then up, Arthur hopped out in the seat next to her.
"Thank you," she called to the shopkeeper.
His old face wrinkled as he smile. "You're very welcome, Miss. Good luck with the gold!"
She smiled, and Arthur set then off.
After a few silent moments, he spoke up. "So, I'm your brother?" She expected it to sound humorous, but it was flat.
"I guess so."
He was leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You may have just gotten us into deep shit, Jane."
This surprised her. He seemed almost... angry.
He continued. "Now I've got to go into Rhodes with two different identities."
She immediately took on a defensive front. "Well, sorry. You know I go on rants sometimes without meaning it."
He still stared straight ahead. "Well, you gotta cut it out. We ain't got much room for mistakes as outlaws."
She couldn't believe what he was saying. "Well I'm so sorry, Mr. High-and-Mighty. Guess I'll remember that next time you make a mistake."
He lit a cigarette, and his once stable voice now raised a bit. "Don't start with me woman."
Her aggravation was now raised when she saw his cigarette. "I though I told you to stop smoking those damn things."
That really set him off. "Since when did you become my boss? Last time I checked, I was the one that has been in this gang for a long time. I can smoke if I damn well please." And as if to prove it, he released a long stream of smoke.
She nearly jumped off of the wagon. "Can you just stop? I'm sorry, I was nervous and I made a mistake! Or is Arthur Morgan so perfect that he never messes up?"
He doesn't say anything. Jane scooted to the edge of the wagon seat, turned away from him.
His pride almost kept him from putting out the cigarette, but after a moment, he threw it away reluctantly.
The pulled into camp silently, the tension so thick between them that it could be cut with a knife. As soon as it stopped, she leaped down, and scurried out of sight. He couldn't help but feel a twinge if regret.
She stomped to the her wagon. Who does he think he is? He's made plenty of mistakes. It was an accident, is all. Not a big deal.
Her insides burned as she threw her shaw on her bed. Sweat had gathered on her forehead from the unbearable hot day.
To try and battle the heat, she took her outer shirt off, so it was just her thin blouse underneath, and took the thick layer underneath her skirt off.
"The nerve of that man..." she grumbled to herself. Part of her knew she was being irrational, but the stronger part of her knew that he picked the wrong week of the month to upset her.
She tied her hair up into a ponytail before she went to the edge of camp, careful to avoid talking to people.
Sitting on the edge of the dock, she took her socks and boots off. Her feet shoed away the bugs that rested on the top of the water as she dipped them in.
Thankfully, the water didn't take after the weather. It was cold. It felt like heaven. The overcast sky wouldn't clue her in to what time it was, besides that it was light out.
Of all the things she thought about, it was before her family went sour. They would go on picnics, her mother taught her how to knit and make pies, and her father was pleasant.
He would read stories to her when she was little, and then when she was an older child, she would read to him. When she was little, he would do silly voices, and they would act it out for her mother. They would do that every day, without fail, right after he got home from work.
One day, he didn't come. Jane could recall the smell of the burning apple pie, the sound of drops of water from the ceiling hitting the pail on the ground, the yells of her mother and the screams of her father. Her mother had just found out that he had lost his job months before, and that they were broke. She begged him to accept the checks from his sister or get a loan, but his pride forced him to refuse.
Jane was eleven at the time. After that, she and her father had never read again.
She could also vividly remember later that night, when her crying mother was tucking her in.
Now, I've got to go talk to your father. Hopefully he won't get upset with me again.
Mama, are you still mad?
Her mother brushed away a tear as she ran a hand over Jane's hair. No, honey. You're never supposed to go to bed angry. I just hope I can convince your father of the same thing.
The words echoed in Jane's head. You're never supposed to go to bed angry.
The cooled down air rekindled Jane's senses, calling her back to the present.
You're never supposed to go to bed angry.
The world had darkened a bit, and she wondered how long she had been sitting there.
Her mother's advice continued to filled her thoughts. Maybe Jane just had to swallow her pride.
Sighing, she stood up and picked up her boots. The grass was a nice alternative to the rough wooden dock.
She bit her lip as she went to Arthur's tent. He wasn't there.
"Tilly, have you seen Arthur?"
Tilly, who sat on a stool nearby, put down her knitting needles. "He was here a couple minutes ago. Left all of a sudden. I think he's still in camp."
Jane thanked her, then went off to find him. Anxiety built in her stomach as she passed by her wagon, which was empty.
As she went around the corner, Arthur appeared right in front of her.
They didn't say anything, but just looked at each other for a moment, trying to see what the other was thinking.
"I'm sorry," they both blurted out at the same time.
"You're sorry? I'm the one who got angry at you," Arthur said.
"I shouldn't have gotten so defensive so fast. I should've listened to you."
He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. Relief overwhelmed him to the point where he thought he could cry. "Oh, Jane, I'm sorry. It's really not that big of a deal. I was just ticked off by Micah and then took it out on you."
She relished in his hug. "But you were right. I did get you into a mess."
He looked down at her. "Darling, you mean a whole lot more to mean than some made-up backstory in a town we won't be in for long."
The words warmed her insides. "So we're good?"
He planted a kiss on her forehead. "Always."
The world seemed to be right again. Around them, the air had cooled down significantly. Her thin shirt let the breeze through, but Arthur kept her mostly protected from the wind.
As they stood there peacefully, Jane decided to ask him a question that she had been thinking about for a while.
"Arthur, what's our future gonna look like?"
Our future.
He was surprised at the question. Thinking about the future was something he did often, but it was usually only a few months ahead. "Well, Dutch wants us to get some money, then go out west. Disappear nice and good."
She shook her head slowly.
"What? Not a good enough answer?"
"No," she said. "Can I be completely honest?" After he nodded, she continued, "From what I've seen so far, I doubt we're ever gonna be able to disappear. So what's our plan b?"
Our plan.
"Well, I don't know. Haven't really thought about it."
They migrated to his wagon, where they sat next to each other on his bed.
"So you're telling me, that after- what, over a month or so of being with me, you've never thought once about where you want us to be one day?"
He scratched his beard and looked up, as if searching for an answer. "Well... I don't know Jane. I guess not."
Her heart felt heavy for a moment, but was lifted when he continued. "How about we dream it up together?"
Together.
Her mind raced through the possibilities. "What if we... went far out west, like really far, and saw the mountains and springs?"
He leaned back against the wagon, and pulled her close to him. "That's already a given. What else?"
Sighing, she snuggled close to him and rested her head on his chest. "Well, I've heard that the beaches on the very other edge of the country are beautiful. How about we build a small cabin right on the sea?"
"That sounds perfect."
"And no shooting or robbing."
"No shooting and robbing," he agreed with a grin.
"Then I think it sounds perfect, too."
"What else would you want to do?" He asked. "So far, your world seems like one I would want to live in."
She thought about it for a minute. "Well, I've always liked kids."
He nearly laughed out loud. "Kids? Jane, I thought you jumped off that train to get away from having children."
"No, I got off to be free," she huffed. "I'd love having children if it wasn't expected of me. And obviously it isn't by you."
"I'm just teasing, Jane." His check rested against her forehead. "So kids, huh? I've never been much of a family man."
Her nod caused his head to bobble along with it. "I guess so. No more than two, though."
"Alright," he said, scratching his jaw again. "And what would you name these hypothetical children? Obadiah?"
"If you name our child Obadiah, I'm leaving you."
Our child.
He laughed, his chest pushing her whole figure up. "Don't worry. I don't like that name. Well, what you name them, then?"
"Well, I like the name Lincoln a lot."
"Lincoln? Like that one president?"
She laughed abruptly. "Yes, like the one president."
He hummed, and she felt a wave of exhaustion flow over her. As the dark crept in, she found her head dipping, and eyes fluttering closed.
Sleep overcame Arthur too. They soon found themselves side by side, snuggled together on his cot. But neither of them minded a bit.
As he resurface to consciousness for the last time before getting pulled completely asleep, he gruffly said to her, "Well I can't wait to build a future with you one day."