Chapter Text
The adults were lying to him. Isaac knew all the signs. They whispered to each other, glanced at him, dodged his questions, promised that they would have news soon but soon never came.
Cried when they thought he wasn't watching.
Even Copper knew something was wrong. The dog jumped up whenever Hosea and Dutch returned to camp, but flopped back down with a sigh whenever his pa wasn't with them. Isaac often sat with him, still waiting, still wondering.
"When is Pa coming home?" he asked Aunt Bessie after Uncle Hosea left camp again. He wanted to ask Dutch, because Dutch actually saw his pa, but Aunt Anna immediately dragged him off to his tent. Bessie told him not to disturb Dutch when he was in his tent.
"When he's feeling better," Bessie said.
"But why isn't he feeling better?"
Bessie sat down and put a hand on his shoulder. "You remember what I told you about those men? They hurt your father."
"The bad men?"
"That's right. Your father needs to rest for a while so he can heal, and a doctor has to watch him to make sure he heals right."
"But why would the men hurt him?" Isaac asked. "Were they robbing him?"
"No, sweetie. They were mad at Dutch, and they wanted to kidnap someone he cared about to scare him. They tried to take Anna, but your father wouldn't let them."
It didn't really make sense to Isaac. Why did they hurt his pa if they were mad at someone else? It wasn't fair! Not that he wanted something to happen to Dutch. He didn't really know Dutch that well. Dutch usually stayed in his tent with a book or went riding with Mac and Davey. He was always on the move, as his ma would say. But whatever the bad men did to his pa, it did scare Dutch.
How hurt was his pa? Because when people got hurt real bad, they died.
Just like his ma.
Which was why, as another day passed with more quiet conversations and tears, Isaac knew they were lying to him. It was just like when Mama died. Mabel and Jim wouldn't tell him what was going on, they just kept promising to let him know soon. His pa was the one who told him the truth, but he wasn't here now! He'd just have to go see Pa himself. Everything was always in town: stores, post offices, doctors. And Pa took him to town, it was just down the trail. But it was so far, so he needed to borrow a horse.
But which one? Bo was Pa's horse, and the only horse he'd ever ridden. But Bo was tall! He knew Rory well, too, but Rory only pulled the wagon. Daisy was smaller, but she was John's horse, wasn't she? John had two horses.
It was probably best to take a horse he knew. He could lead her next to a wagon and climb on from there. He waited until night, when Hosea got back and went to talk with Bessie and Anna. They would never let him go alone, so he needed to sneak out while they were distracted.
"Hi, Bo!" he said to the horse. She perked her ears at Isaac, and he held out a peppermint for her. When she lowered her head to eat, he slipped a simple rope halter over her head. "Do you miss Pa, too?"
Bo snorted as if to say yes, and followed Isaac back over to the wagon. He climbed on top of the wagon, but Bo sidestepped away, eying him suspiciously.
"Come on, stay still!" Isaac said, hopping down to put Bo back into position. This happened several times before Isaac was finally able to pull himself onto Bo's back, grasping a chunk of mane for support.
He gave Bo a small kick on the sides. "Let's go, Bo!"
Bo did nothing.
"Come on, giddy-up!"
Bo heaved a giant sigh and began grazing.
"What are you doing?" a voice called from the trees. Isaac gasped and almost toppled off Bo. Would have, if he hadn't grabbed Bo's neck.
"Go away!" Isaac said.
John walked over, gaping at Isaac on the horse. "Uh, what are you doing, kid?"
"I'm going to see Pa, and you can't stop me!"
John reached for Isaac, and Isaac tugged on Bo's makeshift reins to get her moving. She did, at a leisurely walk, before putting her head back down for more grass.
"Arthur wouldn't want you going out by yourself," John said. "You don't even know how to ride a horse."
"But I have to go! They won't tell me anything, they- they're lying to me." Isaac started to cry as the thought occurred to him. "Is Pa… dead?"
"No! No, he's not dead," John said, quick to reassure him.
"So you've seen him?"
"No."
"So how do you know he's not dead?" Isaac asked, hiccuping between words.
"Hosea and Bessie wouldn't lie to us about that," John said. "Art- your pa is alive."
John seemed confident, but Isaac didn't know John very well. He tended to keep to himself. He didn't have a reason not to believe John, but he was still scared.
He was so tired of being scared.
He missed Mama, missed the house he grew up in, missed his neighbors. But he knew Pa loved him and cared for him, but what if Pa never came back! What would happen to him?
"Are you coming down?" John asked.
"No. I want to see Pa."
"I can't let you leave, I- you got to- what if you got lost? How about this. Since I haven't seen your pa either, I'll go to town. And then I can tell you what's going on. That good?"
Isaac considered John's offer. He only went to town once, and what if he got lost like John said? What if those men came back? "You promise you won't lie?" Isaac said.
"I promise. Now come down."
Isaac looked over Bo's side and said, "It's too high!"
"Okay." John awkwardly lifted Isaac off Bo's back and set him on the ground. "You aren't going to try sneaking out again, are you?"
"I won't."
"Okay. See you soon, I promise."
Isaac watched John lead Moose away from camp, and then Annabelle called him over to go to bed. He tried staying awake, determined to be there as soon as John returned, but then his eyes blinked open to the sunrise.
And John still wasn't back.
"Has anyone seen John?" Davey asked. "He's supposed to take over guard duty."
"No, I haven't," Bessie said, looking around the camp. "He's not in his tent. And Moose isn't here!"
Isaac ducked his head down, feeling butterflies in his stomach. John was missing guard duty because of him. Would they be mad? Should he say something?
But Bessie, Susan, and Anna were really scared, so in a quiet voice he said, "John went to see Pa."
Susan turned to Isaac and said, "John went to town? Why?"
Isaac didn't like Susan's tone. She sounded angry with him. But Isaac was a bit angry, too. Angry at the lies. "Because no one will tell me what's wrong with Pa! I want to know, so John said he'd check for me."
Susan's eyes narrowed, her face getting red, but Bessie stepped in first. "Sweetie, we told you. Your pa is hurt and isn't feeling well."
"But why isn't he getting better? It's been days!"
"Hey, I see John!" Davey said. "He's with Dutch."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the crowd. "John, why did you run off like that?" Susan shouted.
"Leave him be," Dutch said, and ignored her protesting to go straight to Isaac. "Hey, son. I heard you got questions about your pa."
Isaac nodded. "Is he okay? What's wrong with him? Why can't he come home?"
"He's feeling a bit better this morning. As for your other questions, that's a little harder to explain," Dutch said. "Your father's leg, well… it had to be amputated."
"What does that mean?"
"Your father's leg couldn't be fixed, not correctly anyway. It was safer to cut off the broken part."
"But why can't he come home?"
"Because amputating a leg is hard on the body. It can easily get infected."
"Infected?" Isaac asked.
"Right, that's when… the wound makes you sick. Hosea and I are worried your pa is going to get sick. That's why we're keeping him at the doctor's," Dutch said.
"Is he sick?" Isaac asked.
"He is a little sick. But your father is so strong, Isaac. I don't doubt he is going to fight his way through it and be well in no time."
John stepped forward. "I saw him, Isaac. Dutch is telling the truth, I promise."
Isaac threw his arms around John, much to John's surprise. "Thank you! Sorry I got you in trouble."
But John hugged Isaac back and said, "It's fine. Arthur has gotten me in way worse trouble, believe me."
"I have a feeling it was usually the other way around," Dutch said. "Now, why don't you let John go, Isaac. He hasn't gotten any sleep."
"Okay! Goodnight, John!"
He did receive a light scolding from both Susan and Bessie, though Susan seemed to be restraining herself. But it was worth it to know his pa was okay! And that night, when Dutch left to see his pa and Uncle Hosea came back, Uncle Hosea came right to him and said, "Your father can come home tomorrow!"
"Really? I can see him?"
"Really! But he's going to need a lot of rest, so we're all going to have to be a little patient and let him be sometimes. Think you can do that?"
"Yeah! I'm just so happy to see him!"
"Me, too," Hosea said, patting him on the shoulder. "Me, too."
Dutch woke up in a panic to a hand on his shoulder. "What? I'm awake. What's going on?"
Hosea laughed and said, "Well, I thought we'd take Arthur back to camp this morning, but if that disturbs your nap…"
Groaning, Dutch untangled himself from Arthur and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, it's just… he had a nightmare and I was trying to comfort him."
"And you fell asleep as soon as he did," Hosea finished with a knowing smile. "Arthur is fine, Dutch. He probably slept better having you next to him."
Of course Hosea understood. They used to take turns when Arthur first joined them and the horrible memories of his father and his years alone were still fresh in his mind. More often than not, they fell asleep in Arthur's tent, and they never once heard a complaint about it from the boy. And Arthur certainly wasn't complaining when Dutch gave him a gentle shake and said, "Wake up, Arthur. It's time to go home."
They went through the motions of thanking the doctor and assistant, received the last few pieces of advice on Arthur's care, and settled Arthur into the back of the wagon that had been lined with all the pillows and blankets in camp. Dutch sat with him while Hosea drove, keeping up a mostly once-sided conversation with a sleepy Arthur.
Copper knew immediately that Arthur was with them when they rolled into camp. He barked and raced around the horses, trying his best to jump in the back. "Could someone grab that damn dog!" Dutch shouted, and John jumped forward to hold back the excited coonhound.
"Pa is home! Pa is home!" Isaac shouted, also running to the wagon. Hosea scooped him up and brought him to Arthur, reminding the boy that Arthur was tired. But Hosea mostly left Isaac alone to crawl over to Arthur and give him a hug, one which Arthur readily returned.
"Are you okay, Isaac?" he asked.
"Yeah. Are you all better?"
"Not quite," Arthur replied, but he kept the frown off his face for Isaac's sake. "But better enough to be here, I guess."
"Alright, how about we get Arthur to his tent and sitting up, then we'll let Copper see him," Dutch said. "Before he dislocates John's shoulder."
John was already struggling to hold back Copper. The dog whined and lunged against his arms, searching for any gap to wriggle his way out. Dutch and Hosea moved Arthur onto his cot as fast as they could, barely getting Arthur settled before John lost his grip and Copper jumped onto Arthur's lap, licking his face. "Ugh, get off, Copper!" Arthur said, especially when the dog bounced against his ribs, but Copper began to settle when Arthur patted his head. "Yeah, glad to see you, too."
Dutch let Annabelle move in next, once they got Copper down from the cot. She wrapped Arthur up in a tight hug, crying as he reciprocated, "I'm so sorry, Arthur."
"It's okay."
"I just wish I could have done something."
"Ain't your fault," he said.
Isaac moved a little closer, studying Annabelle. "Why are you sad, Aunt Anna?" he asked.
"I'm not, I'm really happy," she said.
"But you're crying!"
"Sometimes when we are really happy, our eyes don't know what to do. So, we cry," she said, opening up one arm to let Isaac join the hug. He crawled onto the cot between them, hugging Arthur again.
Bessie, Susan, and John stayed off to the side of the tent, knowing that they'd get a turn eventually. Mac and Davey almost wandered off, saying that this was a family moment, but Dutch encouraged them to stay. They were part of the family now, especially after all they'd done helping to keep the camp safe for the last few days.
"We'll be moving the camp closer to Denver. Try to put some distance between us and Colm, and there's a man who makes wooden legs in the city. We are going to lay low while we are there, no need to stir up trouble until Arthur is taken care of," Hosea told them.
Dutch started to say, "Now I know this isn't what you boys signed up for…"
"We get it," said Mac. "You certainly take care of your folk, so we're sticking around."
"Yeah, Arthur's a good guy. I'm sure he'd do the same for us," Davey agreed.
"Thank you both," Dutch said. "Now, if you don't mind taking a trip, we have a new campsite to find."
Hosea shook his head. "Do that tomorrow, Dutch, you've been staying up all night for a few days now. Or I'll take them to Denver. I haven't had a chance to ride with them, yet."
"Alright."
"Go to bed, Dutch."
One last look at Arthur, being coddled by Annabelle, Susan, and Bessie, and Dutch was finally able to rest.
For the better park of a week, Arthur mostly slept. He slept through their move to a small, abandoned house just outside of Denver. He slept through the loud racket Susan caused when Copper chewed through her boot. He even slept through most of his visit to a new doctor to make sure the end of his leg was healing correctly.
When Arthur was awake, Annabelle could put on a smile for him and keep him company. But when he was sleeping, the guilt crept back into her, a constant, nagging reminder that it shouldn't be Arthur stuck in that bed. It shouldn't be Arthur worrying about whether or not he would walk again.
"I need you to give me a shooting lesson," she said to Dutch one morning.
"Why? You know how to use a pistol," he said.
"Yes, but I just can't help but wonder… maybe if I was more confident with it or had something more powerful…"
"But you said there were too many O'Driscolls to hold off."
"For me, yes," she said. "I've heard the stories you and Hosea tell. If one of you had been there, they never would have gotten Arthur!"
"You don't know that! Besides, you were looking after Isaac."
"I could have gotten Isaac behind some cover and gone back!"
"If something happened to that boy, I don't think Arthur would ever forgive himself."
"But Colm was after me!" she said.
"Anna," Dutch said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's not your fault."
Annabelle sighed and nodded. "I know."
"If anyone here is to blame, it's me. I killed his brother."
"Don't you dare!" she said. "Connor started this when he broke the truce. But that doesn't mean I can't be more prepared."
Dutch almost argued again, then stopped himself. He grabbed a few boxes of ammo from their wagon and a new gun. "Here. We'll start with a Lancaster Repeater. It's not as powerful as a rifle, but it fires fast with fourteen rounds between reloads. Let's find some empty cans."
"How are you, honey?" Bessie asked as she walked into his room. Arthur was awake, well, his eyes were open. His face was blank, and he was holding the tattered remains of his gambler hat in his hands. Bessie wanted to take the hat and see if she could restore it, or at least make it wearable, but Arthur hadn't let go of it since Dutch gave it back to him the day before.
"It's a nice day out," Bessie continued, pulling back the blankets. "The sun is shining, there's a nice breeze off the mountains. How about we get you up and out of this bed for some lunch?" She picked up the pair of crutches and held them out to Arthur. "You haven't given these a try, yet. No better day than today!"
Arthur stared at the crutches, indifferent.
"Come on, it might make you feel better to be up and outside," she said.
"Bessie, I'm tired, and I'm not even that hungry," Arthur said.
While Bessie knew that Arthur needed lots of rest initially for healing, she suspected his constant fatigue now had other causes. Nightmares, for one. Hosea tried encouraging Arthur to talk about what happened with the O'Driscolls, but Arthur always clammed up. "You know what happened," he'd say, as if he could ignore the memories and one day they would just go away. He needed to process it. Otherwise, he'd never be able to move on.
Or accept what came about because of it.
But now wasn't the time to force Arthur to open up. It was lunchtime, and she fully intended to force Arthur out of bed.
"Isaac would be very happy to see his father out of bed," she stated as the final argument.
"Fine," he grumbled, swinging his legs over the side and sitting up. He carefully positioned his right leg under himself. Bessie hauled him up and supported him while he got the crutches under his arms. She let Arthur set the pace, keeping nearby in case he became dizzy from finally standing up but not so close that he could complain about her hovering.
"See? A nice day," Bessie said as she got Arthur settled on one of the porch chairs. "Want to prop your leg up?"
"Sure."
Bessie slid a pillow onto a second chair, and Arthur put his left leg up, still avoiding looking at it. "Stay here, I'll bring you some soup."
They ate slowly. Arthur watched Isaac sitting with Mac, Davey, and John at a table. "They teaching Isaac poker?"
"No, it's just a card matching game," Bessie laughed.
"That's good."
Davey looked over at the house and waved at Arthur. Isaac also noticed Arthur was outside, and immediately abandoned his cards. "Pa! You're not sleeping!"
"No, I'm not sleeping right now," he said.
"You should play with us!"
"Maybe another time, Isaac," he said.
Isaac's face fell. "Oh, okay."
Bessie glanced at Arthur. "Your father is just getting his lunch, Isaac. How about you show him the game later?"
"Okay, see you later, Pa," Isaac said, and went back to playing.
Bessie smiled at him. "I know this is tough, but I think spending time with Isaac will be really helpful. I know he will appreciate it."
"There just ain't much I can do," Arthur said.
"Spending time is something."
"It's not enough," Arthur sighed. "Can't work, can't make money, it's not like I can stay here or go to your sister's ranch."
"No one is kicking you out, Arthur. You always have a place here, I promise."
Arthur stared out into the field, eyes blank. "I've got one foot, Bessie."
"For now, but you'll have a second one soon. It will just be made of wood. I know it will take some time, but you'll figure out how to use it. I promise."
Arthur turned to look at her, and Bessie had a sudden surge of hope that she'd gotten through to him. But he said, "I think I'd like to go back inside."
"That's fine. But let's try to get some fresh air every day, okay?"
"Okay."
Arthur moved gingerly back inside. Bessie kept more distance this time, hoping a little independence would give Arthur a boost of confidence. But she wasn't sure that it would.
Hosea was awake at the first whimper. He sat up from his cot next to Arthur's bed, confused and blinking in the mostly dark room. The lantern must have burned out some time during the night. Still, he'd worry about that later, once Arthur was sleeping soundly again. Part of him was glad to not have a light. Otherwise, he'd be tempted to check his pocket watch to see just how little sleep he'd gotten since Arthur's last nightmare.
Of course, on the rare occasion that Arthur remained settled long enough for Hosea to rest, his own memories of finding Arthur in that coffin tortured him.
"Hey, Arthur, it's okay," he said, blindly reaching for Arthur's hand in a routine he'd kept up for several nights now. He missed, bumping into Arthur's face, and decided to run his fingers through Arthur's hair instead.
Big mistake.
A wounded shriek escaped Arthur's lips. He scratched and clawed against Hosea's attempts to calm him down. Hosea reeled back when Arthur kicked out with his legs, swinging them over the side of the bed and trying to stand up evenly on two feet. He toppled into the nightstand with a heavy crash, stunned for only a brief moment before he scrambled into a corner.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Dutch appeared in the doorway, quickly followed by Annabelle, Bessie, and Susan. Dutch tried to approach Arthur, holding his lantern aloft, and Hosea finally got a good look at Arthur's glassy, distant eyes, his pupils blown wide in terror.
"Stay back, Dutch," Hosea said. "Let's give him a little space."
He could tell it pained Dutch to stay back, but he obeyed. Everyone stayed quiet. The only sound that filled the room was Arthur's short, frantic gasping as Hosea whispered his name and slid a little closer to Arthur. But another cry had him freezing again.
More footsteps came down the stairs, the soft pattering of Copper's paws and the heavier thumps from John. Susan went to intercept them, but Copper was fast, slinking into the room and sniffing Arthur's face. Arthur blinked, his arms moving as if through molasses until they were buried in Copper's fur.
"Arthur?" Hosea tried again, and this time Arthur looked up and finally met his eye.
"Hosea?" he cried. Copper leapt out of the way as Arthur threw himself into Hosea's arms, shaking and sobbing into his shirt. Hosea settled himself against the furniture, rubbing Arthur's back and crying, too.
"You've got to talk to about this, Arthur," Hosea said. Arthur shook his head no. "Please? You can't keep what happened bottled up. These nightmares are just getting worse." Understatement of the century. Simple nightmares he could handle. A full-blown night terror was something else, and more than anything he was afraid that Arthur would get hurt trying to escape one. "Arthur, I don't care who you talk to, but please talk to someone! Will you tell me what happened?"
Again, Arthur shook his head no.
"Will you tell Dutch?"
Another no.
"Annabelle?"
Arthur didn't move.
"Will you talk to Annabelle?" Hosea tried again, feeling hopeful.
Finally, Arthur gave a minute nod. Hosea gestured to Annabelle to come over, gently transferring Arthur into her hold. "We'll be right outside if you need us, okay?" he said, then left the room.
An hour passed with Dutch, Hosea, and Bessie huddled together outside Arthur's room. Susan offered them coffee after she checked on John and Isaac. For not the first time since they moved to the house, Hosea was glad that Isaac had been agreeable to staying in John's room.
Finally, Annabelle emerged from the room, wiping tears from her eyes. Hosea got a glimpse of Arthur back on the bed, curled around Copper.
"How's he doing?" Dutch asked.
"Not good," she said. "He's sleeping now, but I'm going to stay with him tonight."
"Did he tell you any of it?" Hosea asked.
"Some," she said with a shudder. "He said they were just going to kill him, but he tried to escape. Sliced Colm's face, so Colm wanted him to suffer. I'm guessing that Colm didn't expect him to survive long enough for you to find him."
"God, you mean he's only alive because they…" Dutch said. "Oh, my boy."
"He asked if we would cut his hair, too," said Annabelle. "I think they kept grabbing it, and… well, Susan? Can we do that tomorrow?"
"Yes, of course," Susan said.
Hosea felt a surge of guilt in his chest. He touched Arthur's hair. Had that made things worse? Combined with the dark room, of course Arthur had panicked.
Dutch checked his pocket watch and sighed. "Well, it's not worth going back to sleep tonight. I'll stay up, see if anything needs to be done."
"I'll join you," Hosea said. He needed to be busy, and distracted, until he could hold Arthur and make sure he knew he was safe.
John could still hear Arthur's cries when he shut his bedroom door and leaned against it. He hated this. He wanted to help, but he had no idea what he could even do.
"Is Pa okay?" Isaac asked. He was waiting for John on John's bed, hugging one of his toys.
"I don't know," John said after thinking for a moment. He promised Isaac that he wouldn't lie to him.
"But what's wrong with him?"
John sighed. "I guess he's dreaming about a lot of bad stuff. What those men did, it's giving him nightmares."
"I wish he could get better," Isaac said. "It's scary."
"Yeah, it is," John said. He could no longer hear Arthur, but he knew everyone was still downstairs with him. "We should probably sleep, though. Hosea and Dutch will know how to help Arthur."
"Can I stay here with you?" Isaac asked, even though his own bed was just across the room. John was tempted to kick the kid out, but he remembered his early days in the Van der Linde gang, when he needed a bit of comfort.
"Why not," he said, letting Isaac snuggle against him. "You know, when I first came here, I was scared a lot, too. Arthur always let me stay with him, even though he complained that I kicked and snored and did a whole lot of stuff. I guess I never really thanked him for that. I'm not really good at saying it. But I think I found a way now."
"Huh?"
"Nothing, kid. Go to sleep."
Arthur had a white-knuckle grip on Annabelle's hand, and it tightened every time Susan picked up a chunk of hair to cut it. Even after a few hours of sleep, Arthur was still consumed with fear and anxiety. Annabelle didn't even ask if he needed her, she just picked up his hand and stayed by his side. But Susan understood why he was willing to go through this. Arthur wanted some measure of control, and if he found it in a haircut, she would give him one. She'd shave his head if it made him feel better, no matter how terrible he would look bald.
"Almost done," she said. More to Annabelle than Arthur. She hoped Annabelle's fingers were alright.
"There! How does that feel, Mr. Morgan?"
She let Arthur run his fingers through his hair. "Thank you," he said. Quiet. Almost fragile.
"How about a bath?" she said. "Come on, Bessie's already heated the water. And your sheets could use a wash."
"I don't know."
"Now I don't mean to be harsh, Mr. Morgan, but you stink," she said, staring down at him with her hands on her hips. "Let's get you cleaned up, into some fresh clothes, get some warm food in your belly. Don't make me get tough with you."
How many times had she forced Arthur over to a wash barrel because he came back covered in mud from some adventure? Her slight teasing seemed to get through to him now, and Arthur nodded when she asked about the bath again.
Susan and Annabelle helped Arthur to the tub and got his pajamas off, but let Arthur lower himself into the water and wash his head and hair.
Susan was extra careful when she picked up his left leg. She still wasn't used to seeing it. "Let me know if you want me to stop," she said. "It might feel a bit tender."
She ran the cloth over the end as gentle as she could. He gave a contented sigh. "That… actually feels real nice," he said. The most words since the previous night.
Susan added a little more pressure, massaging the whole area below his knee and smiling when Arthur relaxed even more. "Now, be honest with me. How's it feeling? In general, not just right now. And don't try to lie to me, you know you never get away with it."
He hesitated, then said, "It hurts, sometimes. It feels like my foot is still there, even though I know it's not."
"Oh Arthur, why didn't you say anything?" Annabelle asked, but Arthur didn't answer her.
"Does it feel that way all the time?" Susan asked.
"No."
"Does it feel that way now?"
"No."
"Because of the massage?"
"And the water. It stopped when I got in the bath.
"That's good," Susan said. "How about this? Every day we'll give your leg a soak and a massage."
"You don't have to-" he started to say, but she cut him off.
"I want to. We'll do it in the morning after breakfast, it will be a good way to start the day." Arthur still seemed a little skeptical, but she insisted. "And anytime it hurts or it feels like there's a foot where there isn't one, we'll do it then, too. Okay?"
"Yes, Miss Grimshaw."
Susan smiled at him and said, "A little routine can go a long way, Mr. Morgan."
Arthur could hear talking in the other room, and he couldn't help but think they were talking about him. Or about New Austin, but that was also because of him, wasn't it? Because they were spending all their money on his wooden leg. Between that and the time they had to spend in Denver, they couldn't make it over the mountains. No matter how often they told him they didn't mind the expense, he knew he was a burden.
Just like his daddy always said.
Lyle Morgan liked reminding Arthur that he was only worth scraps of food and thread-bare clothing if he did the veritable mountain of work around the house to Lyle's standards. And for a lazy man who never lifted a finger, Lyle's standards were impossible.
In his first months with Dutch and Hosea, he worked extra hard to be seen as useful and worthy of the food and clothing and lessons they freely gave him. They took notice of it, asked him about it. They began to divide the chores more clearly, made sure Arthur understood that they were all taking an even amount of the work. He wasn't simply earning his keep, he was doing his fair share.
Now, Hosea and Dutch had bags under their eyes, and they tried to hide their yawns when they visited him. Everyone else was taking on his chores, since he couldn't get up to chop wood or brush the horses.
He missed Boadicea, but he didn't want to ask anyone to help him to the barn.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Isaac walked in. "Hi, Pa!" he said.
"Hey, Isaac."
"Do you want to go outside?"
Every day, Isaac stopped by and asked him to do something. Arthur was pretty sure Bessie was sending him. Some days, he managed it. Today didn't feel like one of those days.
"Not today, Isaac."
"Oh."
Did Isaac see him as useless, too?
"Then, can we read a story together? Uncle Hosea gave me one but it's really hard. It's about kings and knights and they have to fight a dragon! And I didn't know what a dragon was an Hosea said it was a giant lizard with wings! Bigger than a house! Can we read it?"
"I don't know, Isaac," Arthur said.
"What about-"
"Isaac, I'm tired! I just can't right now. I can't walk, or run around with Copper, or play games. I can't do anything!"
Isaac lowered his head, but he couldn't hide his watery eyes. Arthur barely heard him whisper, "Don't you like me anymore?"
The soft words slammed into Arthur like a speeding train, knocking him down and crushing him into the tracks. His own voice, saying those same words to his father, echoed in his ears. Horror grew inside him. He couldn't become like Lyle Morgan, but it had already begun, hadn't it? Lyle's ghost haunted him after all these years.
Isaac needed him to be better than that. But Arthur was too slow. Isaac turned and ran from the room before Arthur could call after him.