Chapter Text
Arthur had never met anyone who was both as lucky and unlucky as little John Marston. The kid had only been with them a few months, but he had still managed to get into trouble on an at least daily basis. And some of it wasn’t even his fault.
Since John had been with them, Arthur had to save him from almost stepping on a rattlesnake (Arthur would never admit the cold fear that filled him when heard the telltale rattle), drowning more than once, getting kicked by Dutch’s high strung thoroughbred and, a quite aggressive dog that, according to Arthur, was rightfully protecting its home and John was in the wrong for just stomping onto private property. And that wasn’t even all of it.
For some reason, Arthur had been designated little Johnny’s babysitter. And while he griped and complained to anyone who would listen, he had taken to the small boy. Looking at John, he saw so much of himself in the twelve year old. The rail thin frame, the large, scared eyes, the skittishness. They were the same, but Arthur was quite certain that he was much less annoying at that age.
Still, John was one of them now. And Arthur was damned if something happened to his family. Even if John was very annoying at times. As he was now, when Arthur had been saddled with him as they headed into the local town for some provisions.
“- and then there was this racoon -”
John had been chatting nonstop since he hopped into the seat next to Arthur on the wagon. Arthur had stopped listening after a few minutes if he was honest, instead taking in the nature around them and mentally marking places he’d stop by the next time he rode out.
“Marston, you got that list from Dutch?” Arthur interrupted the story about the racoon that stole John’s dinner. They didn’t actually need the list, Arthur just wanted some peace and quiet.
“Uh…” John started rummaging around in his pockets. He eventually pulled the crumbled list out of his coat pocket, where it had gotten stuck to a peppermint. “Here!”
“Great.” Arthur sighed.
They eventually arrived in the small but active town.
“Are we goin’ to the saloon?” John stood up in his seat, grabbing Arthur’s shoulder for balance. “Or the gun smith? Can we go look at the horses in the stable?”
“Sit down!” Arthur snapped, pulling John down before he fell off. “No, we’re goin’ to the general store. Just gonna get some food.”
“Aw.” John pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’re lucky you even get to come along.”
Arthur pulled the wagon to a stop next to the store and jumped off, stirring up the dust.
“Can I stay in the wagon?” John scooted over to look down at Arthur from the wagon. “The store is boring.”
“... Alright.” Arthur said after considering it for a moment. It would probably be better, John was infamous for his sticky fingers and he was not in the mood for making sure that John didn’t steal half the store. “But stay here. Don’t go anywhere, or I’ll give you a hidin’ you won’t forget.”
He would never raise his hand against the boy, but John didn’t need to know that.
John watched as Arthur wandered away towards the store. As soon as the man had disappeared around the corner, John started looking around for something to do. Surely it wouldn’t hurt if he just took a walk around the town a bit? He was just going to look around a bit, he wasn’t going to go far.
Having made up his mind, John jumped down from the wagon, just like Arthur had done, but almost tripped and cursed at the pain shot through his feet and lower legs. How did Arthur just jump down like that? John quickly looked around to make sure that no one had seen his stumble.
After brushing himself off, John started wandering down the street and stopped to look in through the shop windows. But he made sure to keep away from the general store, he didn’t need Arthur to look out the window and see that he hadn’t stayed at the wagon like he was told.
Eventually John grew bored of wandering around. For a fleeting moment, he considered returning to the wagon. Then he spotted a man across the street, casually putting some bills in his wallet. John’s fingers started itching. Imagine how impressed Dutch and Hosea were going to be if he came back with a stack of cash. He got giddy at the mere thought.
Disappearing into the shadows, John started stalking his prey. It didn’t take long before he spotted a good opportunity to snatch the wallet.
Except, of course, things didn’t go to plan. John fumbled as he reached into the man’s pocket, he managed to grab the wallet, but the man noticed.
“Hey, what the hell! Thief!” The man tried to grab him, but John was too fast for him and took off down the street with the man hot on his heels.
John had done this before, it wasn’t the first and it wouldn’t be the last time he’d get caught. But he didn’t know this city. If it was someplace he knew, he would have been gone before the man even finished calling out. But now, he was desperately trying to figure out an escape route while not knowing where to go. It didn’t take long before he made a wrong turn right into a blind alley. He managed to skid to a halt right before he ran right into the wall.
“Nowhere to go now, little shit.” The man was panting heavily and had a nasty look in his eyes. He grabbed John by the collar, pressing him against the wall.
John was certain that this was where he was going to die. He closed his eyes, preparing for what was about to happen.
“Let him go!”
John almost started crying when he heard the rough and familiar voice. He turned his head to see Arthur standing at the opening of the alley. Oh, he had never been so happy to see Arthur.
“This ain’t your business.” The man growled.
“It sure as shit is, leave him alone.” Arthur walked towards them. “I won’t tell you again.”
Grunting, the man let go of John and walked towards the open street. Arthur gave him a glance before walking over to John and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“You alright, kid?” His voice was strangely soft and he scanned John’s face.
John was about to answer that he was okay when a gunshot rang out. Arthur’s hat flew off his head and for a terrified moment, John thought he’d been hit. But there was no explosion of blood, instead Arthur spun around, face white. The man was pointing his revolver at him, seemingly unaffected by the near miss. He pulled back the hammer and prepared to fire again.
Arthur charged him, knocking him to the ground and the gun flew out of his hand. The men tussled on the ground for a bit and after a few seconds, the man scrambled back onto his feet and clutching his bleeding nose, he took off down the streets. Arthur stood up, brushing himself off and wiped off some blood that had run from his split lip.
“Come on, let’s go.” He grumbled as he grabbed his hat. “Stay close.”
There were eyes on them as they walked out of the alley and walked towards where they had left the wagon. John kept his head down, his cheeks burning from shame. Arthur was going to kill him.
The drive back to camp was quiet. The closer they got to camp, the more and more nauseous John felt. He didn’t know who he was more afraid of. He was in so much trouble. His heart was thundering in his chest and he was certain he was going to throw up. And halfway to camp, he realised he had left the wallet in the alley.
“Where have you been?” Dutch’s voice was sharp as they finally drove into camp and John suddenly found it hard to breathe.
John looked up at Arthur for the first time. His lip was swollen and there was dirt smeared on his face. Arthur’s eyes burrowed into his and it felt like they looked at each other for ages. In his mind, John was begging Arthur to not say anything.
“We ran into a bit of trouble.” Arthur eventually said as he jumped off the wagon.
“What kind of trouble?” Dutch demanded and walked over to look at Arthur’s face. “What happened?”
“Y’know how it is.” Arthur shrugged. “Someone says something and then it starts…”
“Jesus Christ, Arthur.” Dutch pinched the bridge of the nose. “We can’t even send you into town without you getting into a fight? And when you have John with you? What’s gonna happen now? Do we have to move, is the law heading this way right now? I am so disappointed in you.”
Arthur didn’t take the small speech well, he glared at Dutch.
“Ain’t no law comin’ here. It’s fine, no harm done.”
“No harm done?! Listen to yourself, how can you be so reckless?!”
Arthur and Dutch were right in each other’s faces now, their voices gradually getting louder and louder, drawing the attention of the entire camp. John was still on the wagon, staring wide-eyed at what was happening. Why had Arthur lied?
“John, come on.” Hosea appeared beside him and reached out a hand to help him off the wagon. “Let’s leave them to it, they’ll cool off soon enough.”
John hung his head as he followed Hosea over to the campfire. He sat down next to the older outlaw and stared into the flames, still feeling queasy.
“So, what actually happened?” Hosea’s voice was low and gentle.
“I got caught pickin’.” John didn’t look Hosea in the eye, shame filling him. “The guy caught me, was gonna beat me up, but then Arthur showed up. Then he almost shot Arthur and they fought and I think Arthur broke his nose. And now they fightin’...”
John sniffled and wiped at his face. Hosea wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him close.
“Thank you for tellin’ the truth.” He gave John’s shoulders a squeeze. “I think you learned your lesson.”
Arthur heavily sat down on his cot and reached to pull off his boots. He had left camp for a few hours after his argument with Dutch. Ms. Grimshaw had pretty much thrown him out when the spat devolved into shouting and cursing. A few hours away from camp with just his horse, nature and no John Marston had done wonders for his mood. And his lip wasn’t throbbing as much anymore.
“Why did you lie?” A small voice said from next to the cot.
Arthur jumped at the sudden noise and whipped around to spot little Johnny sitting on the ground next to the head of the cot.
“My god, Marston.” Arthur dramatically clutched at his chest. “Why you in my tent?”
John just shrugged and picked at the grass.
“Come up here, you’re gonna catch a cold sittin’ on the ground.” Arthur patted the cot next to him. John scrambled up and looked at him with large eyes.
“But why?”
“Eh.” Arthur shrugged and returned to his boots. “Didn’t seem important.”
“Oh.” John shuffled towards him a bit.
“But, Marston.” Arthur gave him a shove. “You owe me one.”