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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.”

Chapter Text

Take John fishing, they said. It would be fun, they said. Instead, Arthur had to do his utmost to not throw the kid into the water and just let him drown. 

“Marston, I swear to god, if you don’t stop throwin’ rocks, I’m gonna drown you.” Arthur growled as the kid had attempted to once again skip a stone.

“No you ain’t.” John grinned at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t?” Arthur glared at him. “Why don’t you keep throwin’ those rocks and find out?”

John stuck his tongue out at Arthur, but dropped the last of the stones he was holding into the sand. 

“You could always help.” 

“Nah, it’s borin’.” 

“You could use a little borin’, Marston. Life ain’t gonna be fun all the time, y’know.”

Arthur got lost in his thoughts while fishing. As per usual, he didn’t catch much, but it was still relaxing. There was no one shooting at him, he didn’t have to actually do anything most of the time. He wasn’t sure where John had wandered off to, but the kid was old enough and probably had enough sense to not get himself killed on the small strip of shore they’d stopped at. This was one of the few moments in Arthur’s life that were just calm and peaceful. 

That was until Arthur suddenly found himself standing in an inch of water. Ah, shit. 

Hosea had warned him about the tide, telling him that it was especially unpredictable around here. As per usual, Arthur hadn’t really listened as well as he should. And if he didn’t get a move on, he’d soon have to wander back into camp with wet trousers and a bruised ego. He whistled for his horse as he started jogging towards higher ground. His horse came trotting towards him, tail swishing.

“John?” Arthur called out as he hopped onto his horse, looking around. “John?!”

Where had that damn kid wandered off to? Arthur had told him to stay close. 

Arthur’s heart dropped into his stomach as he spotted John standing on a rock a bit out in the water. A while ago, it would probably have been on dry ground. But with the water rising as quickly as it did, John would be swept out to sea soon enough. Goddammit, the kid couldn’t swim, he was going to drown. Arthur hated the uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach. He drove his spurs into the sides of his gelding. 

The water kept rising and by the time Arthur made it to the rock, the water was up to the chest of his horse and almost reaching John’s knees. Arthur could see how terrified the kid was, his face was sheet white and there were tears threatening to fall from his eyes. 

“John, hey, it’s okay.” Arthur said gently as he reached out his hand towards John. “C’mon, take my hand, it’s okay. I got you.”

But John didn’t move, seemingly frozen in place. Arthur tried to push down the annoyance that filled him. It wasn’t John’s fault, he reminded himself. People couldn’t help how they reacted to fear. 

“Alright.” Arthur muttered and dismounted his horse, while keeping a tight grip on the reins. The gelding wasn’t exactly known for being predictable or calm. If he bolted now, they’d probably all drown. 

The water was now up to his chest and the current was strong. Arthur took careful steps towards John, making sure he was putting his feet right. Eventually, he stood beside the rock and looked up at John, reaching out his hand again. 

“Okay, get up on my shoulders and I’ll take you to the horse. It’s okay.”

Arthur was beginning to panic a bit now. The water was rising fast and he wasn’t sure how much time they had. If John didn’t participate, Arthur would have to throw caution to the wind and just grab the kid and haul ass to shore. 

But luckily, John seemed to regain his senses and reached out. Arthur helped him climb onto his shoulders. He could feel John shaking and he made sure to hold onto the kid’s shirt, just in case. 

Though the whole process had probably taken less than two minutes, it felt like hours before Arthur finally helped John onto the horse. The gelding was just as scared and unsettled as John, but Arthur was so proud of him for not having just run off. 

“There, you’re okay.” Arthur said as he made sure John was secure in the saddle. By now, the water was almost by Arthur’s armpits and the current was intense. He just needed to get on the horse. But he saw John’s eyes widen and Arthur turned around just in time to see a large wave barrel towards them. Making a split decision choice, relying on his own ability to swim, he gave the gelding a smack, sending it towards the shore.

The final thing he heard before the wave swept him away was John calling his name, then he slammed into the rock and tumbled out with the current. 

“So, do you think Arthur is actually going to bring any fish back this time?” Dutch asked Hosea over their coffee by the campfire. 

“I think so.” Hosea sipped his coffee and put his arm around Bessie’s waist. “Having John with us has been good for him. He’s more responsible now.”

“It was about time.” Susan said. “Arthur needs to grow up, he ain’t a kid no more.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on him!” Bessie added. “Arthur’s doing his best, he’s a good boy.”

“You’re too soft on him, boy needs a hard hand.” Susan gestured towards Bessie with her knitting. 

“Ladies, please-” Dutch started. 

But whatever Dutch was about to say was drowned out by the pounding of hooves and Arthur's large gelding barreling into camp. Hosea was out of his seat before any of them, running over and grabbing the reins to stop the animal from trampling their camp. The horse reared and John came flying out of the saddle. 

The adults all let out shouts of concern when John landed heavily on the ground. They all got onto their feet and ran over to the small boy. He was soaked and shaking, with tears running down his cheeks. 

“Johnny, what happened?” Bessie gasped and pulled the small boy into a hug. “Honey, you’re soaked!”

It took a change of clothes and half a cup of tea before John had calmed down enough to tell them what had happened. He sat between Bessie and Hosea, clinging onto Bessie’s arm. Between sobs, he told them about the tide and how Arthur had been swept away by the water. 

Dutch and Hosea were on their feet by the time John had finished talking and tacked up their horses in record time. They rode out without even a backwards glance, they knew time was of the essence. And they both knew that there was a large chance they were already too late. That Arthur had already been swept out to sea. Or washed up drowned on shore.  

“Hosea, what do we do if-”

“Stop.” Hosea cut Dutch off. “Don’t talk like that.”

About half a mile from where he had started out, Arthur crawled onto shore, coughing and spluttering. His throat burned and he shivered. He was lucky that slamming into the rock hadn’t knocked him out and that he had the wherewithal to hold his breath as he tumbled around. Well, he had been able to hold his breath until he collided with another rock and the pain and shock made him swallow a large amount of water. 

By some miracle, he made it back to shore without drowning or getting swept out to sea. But his muscles ached and he was exhausted. He kept coughing until his body had gotten rid of the sea water he had managed to consume and inhale. Breathing heavily, Arthur collapsed onto his back on the beach. 

Goddamn John Marston. The kid would be the end of him. Arthur hoped that he was okay, that he had made it back to camp. Hopefully he was sitting by the campfire with the others right now. Arthur grimaced at the thought of having to walk all the way back to camp. Especially with his muscles hurting as if he had just been thrown by a dozen horses. 

As he lay on the beach and his body seemed to accept that he was no longer in danger of drowning, other pains were making themselves known. His head hurt, as did his left shoulder and ribs. He was fairly certain nothing was broken, only bruised. Still, he was in for a few days of pain. With a sigh, Arthur closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasant afternoon sun. He’d just rest here for a moment or two before walking back to camp. 

“Dutch.” Hosea reached out to grab Dutch’s shoulder. “Dutch, it’s getting dark.” 

“We can’t just leave him.” Dutch turned around, anger clear on his features. “We ain’t gonna leave Arthur just-”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Hosea kept his voice calm, but he was just as upset at Dutch. Their boy, their Arthur was lost somewhere out there. Hosea’s heart was breaking, he felt like a part of him had disappeared and died. 

For a moment, Hosea almost thought Dutch was going to hit him. But the air suddenly seemed to go out of the younger outlaw and he seemed to almost shrink. He gave Hosea a solemn nod.

They rode back to camp without speaking. Hosea kept trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. God, he was going to have to tell Bessie and Susan. And little John. Oh god, John was going to be devastated. 

They dismounted outside camp and Hosea turned to Dutch again. 

“I’ll tell them.” Hosea said quietly. Dutch just nodded, pain and sorrow clear on his features. 

Hosea had done a lot of hard things in his life, but this was without a doubt the worst. Arthur was his boy, his son. Hosea removed his hat and held it against his chest as he walked into the light of the campfire. And stopped dead in his tracks. 

He had expected three figures around the fire. John, Susan and Bessie. Instead there were four. And the one sitting next to John with his back towards Hosea was sporting a rather familiar hat. 

Hosea was moving before he even was aware of what he was doing. Emotions boiled over and he gave Arthur a slap upside the head. Arthur flinched and turned around. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” He called out. 

“Oh, you stupid boy.” Hosea pulled Arthur into a hug, burrowing his face in Arthur’s shoulder. “You silly, stupid, reckless boy.”

“Uh.” Arthur gave Hosea’s back a gentle pat. 

“Arthur…” Dutch’s voice was barely audible. “You-”

Arthur pulled out of the hug and looked between Dutch and Hosea with a confused look on his face. 

“He came wandering into camp an hour or two ago.” Bessie said, walking over to hug her husband. “Only a bit battered and bruised.”

“I-” Dutch took a deep breath. “I need a drink.”

Chapter Text

Arthur’s hands shook as he desperately tried to get the match lit. But just like the various wooden items on the ground in front of him, the matches were soaked and there was no way he was going to be able to get a flame going. His teeth chattered as he kept on trying, striking the match again and again against the stone wall. 

“Arthur?” John’s small voice came from behind him. “Are we gonna die?”

Arthur looked over at John. The kid was sitting far back in the abandoned mine shaft they’d had to seek shelter in. He was wrapped in Arthur’s large and heavy coat, curled in on himself to ward off the cold. 

“No, kid. We ain’t gonna die. It’s gonna be fine.”

The lie didn’t even sound convincing in his own ears. 

“Try to get some rest, while I get a fire going, ‘kay?”

The day had started out well enough. Their small gang was making their way along a mountain road and about halfway up, it had started snowing. The temperature plummeted, but their spirits stayed high. Bessie and Susan made sure everyone was dressed in their warmest clothes and all of them took turns ragging on Dutch for not listening to the store manager’s warning about it being too late in the year to head through the pass. 

Suddenly, the weather had taken a turn for the worst. The sky got darker and darker, and the wind picked up. Soon the visibility was close to none and Hosea had instructed them to stay close so that they didn’t get lost in the storm. It wouldn’t have been a problem if Arthur’s horse wasn’t an absolute menace. The nervous gelding got spooked and took off. John had been on the back of Arthur’s horse and Arthur tried his best to hold onto both the reins of the horse and to John. In its wild panic, the young horse stepped wrong and they all went tumbling head over heels. Arthur had managed to hold on to John even as they fell and he kept his hold on the young boy as they tried to right themselves. 

Arthur’s heart broke when he saw the state of his horse. The gelding’s leg was obviously broken and he was letting out heart wrenching sounds of pain. Even in the best of times, there was nothing to be done for the poor creature. Arthur had ordered John to turn away and then he put the steed out of its misery. 

They couldn’t stay out in the wind, they’d freeze to death. Still holding on to John’s coat, Arthur managed to grab the saddlebags and slung them over his shoulder. They had some provisions in there, as well as a blanket and some spare gloves and socks. For a while, they had stumbled around in the blizzard, blinded by the snow. It was John who had spotted the old mine shaft and they hurried inside. 

It was a relief to be out of the wind, but it was still bitingly cold. They were both shivering and panting heavily. They’d sat down to rest for a moment and catch their breaths. Just to have something to do, Arthur started going through his saddlebags, taking inventory. 

After a while, it became evident that John was handling the cold much worse than Arthur was. The boy was shivering and his lips were turning blue. Arthur hadn’t even had to think twice before offering John his own large and warmer coat. John was still only skin and bones, even after having been with them for a good while now. Arthur was larger, he had more to take off. He’d be fine, as long as the weather died down soon enough. 

It was hard to estimate how much time had passed when the world outside was just a grey blur and they were freezing into their bones. Arthur had wrapped himself in the damp blanket from his saddlebags and as darkness started to fall, he had relented and decided to try starting a fire. 

He struck the match against the wall of the mine again and almost cried of relief when it finally lit on fire. He shielded the little flame with his hand and brought it to the somewhat dry paper he had pulled out of his journal to use as kindling. His heart sped up as the paper caught on fire. 

Don’t count your chickens yet. He reminded himself. He nursed the small fire, feeding it kindling and the driest wood they had managed to scrounge up from around the shaft. It took several minutes of work and careful tending before the flame was large enough that Arthur didn’t feel the need to constantly watch it. Grabbing various debris, he tried to build a wall around the small flame to shield it from the wind that occasionally blew into the shaft. Perhaps he should have built it closer to the opening to stop the space from filling up with smoke and choking them. But with how cold it was, it sounded like a much more pleasant way to go than freezing. 

Arthur put his hands as close to the fire as he dared. He had taken his gloves off as he attempted to light the fire and his fingers had already turned a concerning pale colour. Shivering, he pulled on his gloves again, holding his hands close to the fire. 

John came to sit beside him and Arthur felt relieved to see that John’s lips were no longer blue and he wasn’t shivering as violently as Arthur was. 

“I’m real sorry ‘bout Church.” The kid sat down next to him, leaning against his side. 

“He was a real piece of shit.” Arthur put his arm around John’s shoulders. “But thanks.”

“He bit me once. I was gonna give him a sugar lump.”

“Sounds like Church.” 

Hours passed and the wind eventually calmed as it started to get light out again. They had shared a can of lukewarm beans and John had fallen asleep as close to the fire Arthur would allow him. Arthur had taken a peek outside, the snow was deep and the wind was still strong. There was no point anyway, they had no idea where they were or where the caravan had gone. How long had they travelled before they realised John and Arthur weren’t with them anymore? Were they safe? Horrible images of the caravan buried in snow and the others dead flashed in front of his eyes and he forced himself to take deep breaths to keep from panicking. 

The cold was eating away at him, his teeth chattered so badly he almost worried they’d shatter. He moved so close to the fire that the blanket was in danger of catching fire. Well, then he would at least be warm. 

He was exhausted and his head started dropping. He needed to sleep. While he didn’t want to wake John, he also didn’t want to leave the fire unattended. And if Hosea or Dutch came looking for them, he needed someone to be awake to call out to them. 

“John.” He shook the boy’s shoulder. John roused after a while and yawned. “Can you watch the fire for an hour or two?”

John nodded and Arthur gave him a small smile before he lay himself down on the floor and drifted off. 

Arthur woke up to someone violently shaking his shoulder. His eyes flew open and looked right into the worried face of Hosea. He turned his head to see John being led out of the shaft by Dutch. 

“Arthur, come on. On your feet.” Hosea gently slapped his face and Arthur grunted, sluggishly making his way up. 

Outside, it was still cold as hell, but the wind had died down and they could finally see more than two feet in front of their faces. Arthur’s muscles were stiff and he had lost the feeling in most of his extremities. It shamed him that he needed the help of both Hosea and Dutch to get onto the back of Hosea’s horse. 

Arthur was only vaguely aware of the journey and that he was ushered inside a cabin. A bottle of whiskey was pressed into his hand and after taking a few sips, a pleasant warmth was spreading through his body. Exhaustion overtook him and he felt dead on his feet. 

The next thing Arthur was aware of was the pleasant crackling of a fire and the weight of a thick blanket on him. 

“Are you awake, my dear?” 

Bessie sat next to the couch on a small chair and Arthur gave her a small smile. She seemed to be doing some embroidery and it rested in her lap as she smiled a gentle and warm smile.

“You’re lucky, you still have all your fingers and toes.” She put aside her work and leaned over to kiss Arthur’s forehead. 

“I’m known for my luck.” Arthur mumbled. “Is John okay?”

“Oh yes, he perked right up after a bowl of soup and some time in front of the fire. He’s sleepin’ in the other room.” 

“Good.” 

“Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you care about the boy.”

“Now, that’s just slander, Mrs. Matthews.” Arthur said, mirth in his voice.

“Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Morgan.” She smiled at him and tucked the blanket more securely around him. “Get some more sleep, you deserve it.”

Chapter Text

Arthur almost shat himself as a gunshot suddenly split the air. The bullet passed close to his cheek, so close that he felt it graze his skin. It hit the tree right next to his head, sending splinters flying. He stared at the hole for a good while, trying to figure out what had just happened. When the shock finally wore off, he spun around, anger flaring. 

“Marston!” He barked. “What the hell?!”

John stood a few feet behind him, holding the revolver Arthur had handed to him just a few moments ago. He had taken the kid out of camp for some target practising and he was in the process setting up some bottles when he almost got shot. John was staring wide-eyed at Arthur, still aiming the revolver. Arthur walked over to him and wrenched the gun out of the young boy’s hand. 

Never before had Arthur been so close to actually hitting John. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur growled, bending over to get at eye height with John. “You almost killed me, you bastard! I knew you was stupid, but really ?”

“I-I didn’t know it was loaded.” John squeaked, his bottom lip quivering. 

“You always assume a gun is loaded, even if you just emptied it. You never point it at something you don’t want dead. Do you understand me?” 

“Ye-yes.” John hiccuped. 

“Oh, don’t give me them tears. Get out of my sight.” 

John scampered off towards camp and Arthur took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Normally when he was almost shot in the head, it was while being chased by the law and he was well aware that it was a possibility. But he had never anticipated it would be John who almost shot him. How could the kid be so stupid? He knew John had killed before, he knew how rough he’d had it. How was it possible he didn’t know the basics of guns?

“Shit.” Arthur let out a shaky sigh. 

John sat curled up behind his tent with his arms wrapped around his legs and tears running down his cheeks. He was listening to Arthur and Hosea speaking at the campfire. 

“He almost shot me, Hosea.” Arthur's voice had a strange tone to it. 

John really was sorry about it. He was certain he was as scared, if not more scared than Arthur had been. He had just been messing around, he really had thought Arthur hadn’t loaded it before he handed the gun to him. John sniffled. 

“It was a mistake, he’s just a child.” Hosea replied. 

“I think you missed the part where I almost died.” Arthur growled and John could imagine the look on his face. “What would you have done if he actually hit me? Give him a pat on the back? ‘Oh, it’s okay lil Johnny, shit happens, come let’s have some chocolate to cheer you up’?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hosea sighed. “Be gentle on him, he’ll learn. He’s had it real rough, you also messed up when you was young.”

“I don’t recall me ever almost shootin’ you or Dutch.” There was a pause. “How many times have I had to save him these last months? I ain’t always gonna be around to look after him. He’s gonna have to learn sometime.”

“And he will. Just… Be gentle on him. That’s all we ask.”

There was no reply from Arthur.

John wandered through the desert and the tears had finally stopped running down his cheek. He had a pack on his back, where he had packed some cans of food, some changes of clothes, the nice coat Ms. Grimshaw had given him when he first met them and the storybook Arthur had given him. 

“ Here .” He had growled and thrust the book into John’s hands. No ceremony, no kind words, but John had still been so happy that Arthur had given him a gift. 

But John had always had the nagging feeling it was too good to last. The outlaws had been so kind to him, but he could never really understand why. And he hadn’t really questioned it at first. He had just been so happy to always go to bed with a full stomach, always had someone to go to when he was scared and always had someone to help him. They’d even started to try to teach him to read. But of course it was too good to be true. 

Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw had made jokes about John eating them out of the house, but John had always thought they were just jokes. But maybe they always thought that he was a waste of space. Another pair of clothes to wash, another mouth to feed. And now he had almost killed Arthur. It had to be the final nail in the coffin. 

John had decided to run away. He decided it would be better than them throwing him out. It would hurt less, he thought. Briefly, he had considered taking one of the horses so that he didn’t have to walk, but he knew he wasn’t a good enough rider yet. He was still a bit scared of the larger horses, even though he’d never admit it.

He wasn’t sure how far he’d walked before his feet started hurting and he started to feel tired. He found a large rock to sit down by, the shrubs around it shielded him from view and he hoped he’d be safe to take a nap here. Should he try to light a fire? But he remembered Dutch telling him to be careful where he lit a fire, in case he started a wildfire. And with the dry climate of the desert they were in, John didn’t want to take the risk. 

Instead, he curled in around himself and pulled out the storybook. He still couldn’t read, but the pictures were pretty. John lazily flipped through the pages, just to have something to do. 

Suddenly, he got the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. He scanned the environment around him, holding his breath. His mind raced through all the animals he knew existed in the desert. Snakes, coyotes, cougars… He remembered what Arthur had told him as they rode through and John asked about the big cats. 

“ The thing about cougars. ” Arthur had said as John looked around. “ You don’t see them ‘til they are ‘bout to eat you. ”

“ Stop scarin’ the kid !” Dutch had called out and Arthur had just laughed. 

Oh, how John wanted them to be there as he felt his heart speed up. He continued to look around, breath quickening and panic rising in his chest. He prayed that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Or that it was a little armadillo or maybe a herd of pronghorns. 

Then he saw it. The faint light of the setting sun reflecting in the eyes of a sand coloured creature appearing from behind a collection of cacti and shrubs. It pulled back its lips, showing off large and sharp teeth. John’s short life flashed in front of his eyes. He was going to get mauled. He was going to die there in the desert, all alone. The cougar took up speed and jumped towards him, claws and teeth on display. John braced himself. 

The creature slammed into him and John was knocked to the ground, the breath knocked out of him. But… The cougar didn’t start chewing on him. In fact, it didn’t move anymore. John was processing what was happening when the weight suddenly lifted from his chest. He gasped in a lung full of breath. And then he suddenly found himself being pulled onto his feet and into a hug. 

“Oh, John.” Arthur’s voice sounded strange.

After he had recovered from the shock from what had just happened, John wrapped his arms around Arthur and burrowed his face into his brother’s shirt. Arthur smelled familiar, of campfire, leather and horse. Arthur smelled like home. When Arthur pulled away, John wanted to complain, he wanted Arthur to continue hugging him. Arthur kept a hold of his shoulders and scanned his face. 

“Are you alright? It didn’t get you?”

John shook his head and glanced over at the cougar that was bleeding out on the ground. It was first now he spotted the bullet hole through its throat. 

“Shit, I thought you was gonna get eaten.” 

“I ain’t never seen a cougar before.” John finally found his voice. 

“I hate the bastards. Real scary.” Arthur let go of John’s shoulder and walked over. He poked the animal with the toe of his boot. “We should take this to camp, good amount of meat on her.”

“Can I come with?” John asked before he could stop himself. Arthur looked up at him, eyes gentle.

“Of course, kid. Ain’t home without you.”

They worked together to get the cougar onto the back of Arthur’s new horse, a mustang mare Arthur had caught and tamed a short while after they arrived in the desert. She was a bit on the smaller side, but strong and didn’t seem bothered by the large stature of her rider. He’d named her Merigold and John liked her a lot better than Arthur’s last horse. 

Since the back of the horse was occupied by the carcass, John sat in front of Arthur in the saddle, holding on to the mare’s mane. They rode in silence for a while, the horse moving at a comfortable trot. 

“I’m sorry for yellin’ earlier.” Arthur finally said. 

“I’m sorry for almost shootin’ you.” John replied. 

“I ain’t gonna pretend it’s okay, you messed up.” Arthur said, voice gentle. “But see it as a learnin’ experience.”

John’s face burned with shame, but he nodded his head. 

“Y’know, I ran away once.” 

“You did?”

“Sure, I was probably fifteen or sixteen. I argued with Dutch and took off. Ms. Grimshaw was so mad when I came back.”

“Are they gonna be mad at me?” John whispered. 

“They don’t know.”

“Really?”

“Saw you weren’t in your tent and took off after you. The old folk don’t need to know.”

Chapter Text

Arthur’s heart was pounding in his chest as he ran, forcing himself to match his speed with the kid, despite the sounds of the law approaching. He looked around for an escape, all the while they kept moving. 

He blamed himself, Dutch and Hosea even more than he blamed John for this one. They hadn’t actually explained to the kid how it worked with false identities and how to act when you were the part of a gang of outlaws on the run. 

They’d hit a small wagon train and came away with a rather substantial amount of money. Unfortunately, they’d had to kill a few guards. But Arthur rationalised it away with the philosophy that it was him or them. They’d packed up camp and as they left, they donated a pretty sum to the local sanitorium. The papers had connected the two actions and Arthur had felt a small amount of pride when they were compared to Robin Hood and his merry men. It was a rather romantic comparison, as long as he ignored the previous lines about them being cold blooded killers. 

Even though John had absolutely zero part in the operation, he was just as giddy and riding just as high as the rest of them after the success. They’d stopped in the next town over. Hosea, Dutch and Arthur wanted them to keep riding, but circumstances forced them to stop. They agreed on keeping the stop as short as possible, get in, get out. But John had started running his mouth, bragging to a barmaid about them saving some people from consumption. Of course, that wasn’t even close to what had happened, but the kid might have misunderstood what a sanitorium was. 

And just their luck, the brother of one of the men they shot was in the same bar. He had gone up to John, confronting him and demanding that he tell him the details. John, who wasn’t known for his intelligence, had told the man that he wasn’t going to tell him anything and that he could go bury himself. Arthur had grabbed John and pretty much carried him out of the bar, all the while apologising and saying that his brother was a compulsive liar. Which John denied loudly. And now they were being chased by half the bar patrons and whatever law was still awake and not drunk at this time. 

Arthur, quite a veteran to the outlaw life at this point, always made a point to map out possible escape routes whenever they arrived in a new city. So, after turning a corner and momentarily out of view of the approaching mob, Arthur pulled John into an alley. 

“There ain’t nowhere to go!” John squeaked as the alley appeared to lead into a dead end. 

“Sure there is.” Arthur whispered. “That’s just a large door, I’m gonna give you a boost over it and then you’re gonna run for the horses.”

“B-but what ‘bout you?” John whispered as Arthur dragged him towards the wall. 

“I’ll be right behind you.” Arthur assured him. “Just… Run for the horses.”

Arthur kept looking over his shoulder as he helped John over the wall. The kid ended up straddling it, too scared to jump down. Arthur ended up gently pushing John over it, and the kid went over, but managed to stay on his feet. 

“Go!” Arthur hissed as he readied himself to make his way over. 

The wood was slippery and it took several tries until Arthur managed to get himself up. But he felt like he was drenched in cold water when he heard John call out. Arthur scrambled to get over the wooden wall and fell heavily onto the ground. 

“Got you now, you little shit.” A rough voice growled and Arthur forced himself onto his feet. 

“Maybe we should just shoot him.” Another man said. “Blood for blood.”

Arthur stumbled out onto the street. 

“No!” He called out. “Please, let him go. I shot them, he had nothin’ to do with it. Please.”

“They were innocent! They died for your greed!” The man who held onto John lifted the kid and pressed a gun against his temple. Arthur felt like he was going to throw up. 

“Gentlemen!” A very familiar voice called out. Dutch appeared behind the mob, hands resting on his revolvers. “What kind of behaviour is this, pointing a gun at a child? Sure, he has a big mouth, but I didn’t know that warrants the death penalty.”

The distraction was what Arthur needed. The man looked away, no longer focusing on John. Perhaps it was a bad idea to rush over and grab the boy, perhaps he should have let Dutch take control of the situation and work his magic. But he couldn’t risk it, he rushed over, grabbing John. The man immediately turned towards them, and fired his gun. The bullet hit Arthur in the arm and he cursed but kept his hold on John. He pressed the kid against his chest, shielding him from the next shot from the man. It hit Arthur in the back and he cried out in pain. He wasn’t sure if the next gunshot was for him or for someone else, but he kept his hold on John, shielding him from the firefight starting around him.

Susan was working on some washing when the men rode into camp, covered in blood and with wild looks in their eyes. But Susan could only see the pale and limp form of Arthur propped up in front of Dutch. 

“Need some help over here!” Dutch called out. He didn’t dismount, keeping a tight grip on Arthur to keep the young man from falling out of the saddle. He was clearly unconscious. 

“My god.” Susan hurried over, followed by Bessie. Hosea had dismounted his horse as well, helping them as well. Susan vaguely noticed that Dutch was clutching his arm, but he would have to wait. 

They carried Arthur over to his cot and as they set him down, he let out a weak whimper. 

“Are you two okay with handling this?” Bessie asked. “I’ll take care of Dutch and John.”

“Yes, good idea.” Hosea said. “We’ll call if we need help.”

Susan set to work, undressing Arthur. The young man made a weak attempt to push them off, even if Hosea and Susan tried to calm him. Eventually, he settled down, either from exhaustion, blood loss, shock, or a combination of the three. 

It took a few hours for Hosea and Susan to dig the bullets out of the three bullet wounds. They then carefully stitched the wounds closed and called Bessie over to help them move Arthur to a clean cot that wasn’t drenched in blood. 

The initial panic after the group rode into camp settled after a few hours. Dutch’s arm had been taken care of by Hosea and while John was unharmed, he was a complete mental wreck and Bessie had her hands full trying to calm him down. 

Dutch and Hosea sat by the fire, trying to figure out what they were going to do now. Susan stayed by Arthur’s side, watching his chest rise and fall. Every breath was a relief. 

She looked at the young man, who she had helped raise into the brave man he had become. She still remembered the first time she had met him, after she had ridden into camp on the back of Dutch’s horse. She had been so surprised to see a young boy with the two adults, glaring at her with uncertain eyes. 

Dutch had introduced them with such pride in his voice and heaped praise on Arthur, how much he had grown in the months he had been with them, what a smart boy he was, learning so much every day. If the Arthur Susan met the first day in camp was so much more civilised and trusting than when they’d met him, Susan didn’t even want to know how he used to behave before. 

In front of her, Arthur grew and matured. Under Dutch’s teachings and Hosea’s love, he grew into a brave but closed off young man with a lot of love to give without knowing how to give it. Susan loved him, despite how often they butted heads over everything and nothing. He was her boy. And if Dutch hadn’t ended the men that shot him, she would have done so herself. 

She reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“You best wake up soon.” She muttered. “We need you.”

Dutch approached her as the sun was beginning to rise. He grabbed a chair and sat down next to her. He too was a bit pale, but at least he was up and moving. 

“We-” He cleared his throat. “We need to go, as soon as possible. What happened in town… It wasn’t good. I ain’t sure how long we can be here before they come.”

“And what do you suggest we do?” Susan's anger flared. “I ain’t sure he’s gonna survive bein’ moved. He lost a lot of blood. He’s in a real bad way.”

“We don’t have a choice, Susan.” Dutch said through gritted teeth. “We either take our chances and try to move him, or we all gonna get shot when the law rides in here.”

Susan took a deep breath in. Despite how appreciated she knew she and Bessie were by the men, she also knew that their word weighed more than hers. So, she knew that she didn’t really have a choice. 

They packed up as fast as they could, having to rethink their strategy for packing. In order to make space for Arthur in the back of a wagon, they packed the horses as much as they could. Arthur’s horse, lacking her rider, took the bulk of the burden. It would be snug, but Arthur would fit and so would John. 

As they moved Arthur, they tried to be as gentle as possible, but the man still stirred and let out a pitiful moan. John kept away from him, until Dutch ordered him to get into the back of the wagon. John hesitated outside and looked up at Susan. 

“Is he gonna die?” He asked, eyes wide and scared. 

Now, Susan didn’t want to lie to the boys. She didn’t believe in sugarcoating anything. But looking at John’s scared eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth. So she just brushed a hand over John’s hair. 

“No, he’ll be just fine. Now, hop into the wagon and keep him company.”

They didn’t put up camp until they passed the state border. By some miracle, Arthur was still alive by the time they found a suitable place to camp. He hadn’t torn any stitches either, but he still looked pale as a corpse. They moved him onto a cot and tucked him in. They were relieved that he hadn’t developed a fever. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but it was a good sign. 

John was ordered to keep an eye on him, just to stop the boy from getting under their feet. He had changed since the incident in the town. If he had any naivety or belief in a kind world, it had died when he was almost shot and Arthur had shown that he was willing to give his life to save John. 

John sat next to Arthur on an uncomfortable chair, looking at his brother. He thought about all the things Arthur had done for him. They had argued so much and for the longest time, John was sure that Arthur didn’t even like him. He vowed, then and there, to do his best to make it up to Arthur. If only the man would wake up. 

As if Arthur had heard John’s thoughts, the man stirred and his eyes opened. He looked around, confused. 

“Am I dead?” He said to no one in particular. 

John jumped out of his seat and completely forgetting that Arthur was injured, he wrapped his arms around his brother’s throat. Arthur groaned, but returned the embrace with his good arm. 

“Thank you.” John muttered into his neck. 

“Ah, don’t mention it.” Arthur weakly patted his back. “Don’t mention it.”

Camp was finally set up and Susan made her way over to check on Arthur. John hadn’t called out, so she hoped that everything was alright in the lean-to. What she saw warmed her heart. 

Arthur was indeed still breathing and while his face was a bit tense from pain, he seemed to be sleeping. John was curled up against his side with Arthur’s good arm wrapped around him. 

Oh, if she only had one of those new small cameras.

Chapter Text

John looked around camp, still not completely used to the hussle and bussle. In the two years he’d been with them, the gang had grown. But while the gang had grown, he didn’t feel like they were part of the family, not like he, Dutch, Hosea, Susan, Bessia and Arthur. 

Arthur.

John looked around the camp, trying to spot the familiar hat. Most of the gang didn’t know about what had happened that awful day a few months ago. Arthur had asked them, almost begged them to not tell the others. He didn’t want to appear weak. Dutch had given him some speech about how emotions weren’t weakness and the reaction to the immense loss Arthur had experienced shouldn’t just be swept under the rug. But Arthur had looked at him with such pain in his eyes that Dutch relented and promised to keep it between the six of them. Arthur had thanked them. 

While Arthur was busy in camp, Hosea had pulled John aside and asked him to keep an eye on Arthur for them. When John had asked why, Hosea had just looked at him with sad eyes. John didn’t really understand what Hosea meant, but he was more than happy to keep an eye on his brother. So now, when he couldn’t see him anywhere in camp, John went looking. 

He found him outside camp, sitting on a fallen log by the water. He had a revolver in his hands and kept spinning the chamber. 

“Hey Arthur.” John sat down next to him. 

“Marston.” Arthur’s voice was flat. “What you want?”

“Dunno, just talk, I guess.” 

“No offence kid, but I wanna be alone.” Arthur’s voice was shaking slightly.

“Well, I wanna sit here.”

“Just leave me alone, John!” Arthur threw the revolver into the sand and jumped onto his feet. “For once in your goddamn life, leave me the hell alone!”

Arthur turned his back to John and hid his face in his hands, pressing the heels of his hands into his face. John looked at him as his shoulders started shaking. All the energy seemed to go out of him and he sank down into the sand, his whole body shaking. 

John got up and walked over to sit down next to Arthur in the sand. He did his best to wrap his arms around the much larger man. 

“I’m real sorry, Arthur.” He said silently. 

Arthur didn’t reply, but he didn’t pull out of the embrace. John held onto him, he was ready to sit there forever if that was what Arthur needed.