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The horse trotted uphill towards Wapiti reservation, every beat of her hooves on the dirt road felt like hell on Arthur’s body. Breaths wheezed out of him from lungs that struggled to take in air, the disease so deeply rooted now it threatened to undo him. He honestly could have ran here, it would have had the same effect on his body, and displayed the same sense of urgency. Funny, he thought to himself, how he spent his whole life aimlessly running that only now he finally had something to run to.
After the chaos that arose in the rescue of Eagle Flies, he left it up to Charles to take him back to his father so his wounds could be tended to. But as he turned the opposite direction towards their hideout in the caves, he felt restless. He had become so accustomed to the day by day living that kept him breathing up to this point that now, when his lungs failed him, he felt compelled by some sense of actual purpose. Even if that purpose was rooted in regret. So, in the echoing words of that kindly sister of the cloth, he took a gamble.
Arthur hitched the horse outside the reservation, pending a few more blood-laden coughs, and walked deeper within as he searched for Charles. It didn’t take long to spot him, as the whole population of this small camp gathered around the chieftain’s tent where, presumably, Eagle Flies had just been delivered safely. A small wave moved through the crowd as they parted to let someone through, and soon Charles stepped out of the throng and met Arthur’s gaze.
“Arthur? I thought you were headed back to camp.”
His voice carried a mixture of surprise and relief, as if he needed a distraction from the events of the night. He quickly closed the distance between them and Arthur ducked his head in a small nod, clearing his throat.
“I was, but… I needed to talk to you, and it couldn’t wait.”
Charles caught the low rumble that carried his words, the one that always arose when he had something serious to discuss but only in a private setting. So he nodded and gestured towards the rest of the camp for him to follow. Arthur reciprocated the nod and walked behind him. Away from the other tents to a more secluded area.
Wordlessly, he led him to a tent separate from all the rest, one Arthur assumed was made for Charles while he stayed with the tribe, and opened the flap. He allowed the sickly cowboy to go in first before he followed after and let the tent close behind them.
Arthur shakily brought himself down to the dirt floor and Charles took up a spot directly across from him, leaving only a fire pit between them. Dry tinder lay dormant in the circle of rocks before they crackled to light, sparked by a match Charles threw in before he sat back on a small cushion. He looked back at Arthur inquisitively.
“So, what is it you wanted to talk about?”
Arthur opened his mouth to reply, only for his face to collapse inwards as he unleashed into a series of violent coughs. One hand quickly caught them, bloody spittle and all, while his opposite hand had raised in a gesture of pause. He had to get it together, he needed to. He couldn’t pass out again now.
Charles nodded and raised a hand towards him. “Does it have to do with this?”
Arthur shook his head, forcing the words out between coughs. “N-no, no.” He gasped in a deep breath, then exhaled as he wiped his soiled hand on his pant leg. “Actually, I don’t know, it’s a lot of things.”
He took a few more deep breaths before he fully recovered from his short fit. Charles sat patiently all the while and waited for him to elaborate.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started with a slow drawl, “it’s pretty much all I do now at this point. About everything we’ve done, all I’ve done. I used to think there was some purpose to it all. All the killing, robbing, lying, and cheating. It was going to give us a better life. But now… look at us, lost more than we ever hoped to gain. Those of us still left are at each others’ throats.”
Charles stared into the fire contemplatively, taking in every word. “It’s all falling apart, isn’t it?”
Arthur ducked his head under his hat and suppressed a cough. “Much as I don’t want to admit it. And the one person I trusted to hold it all together is barely holding himself together most days. The longer we go on, the more I struggle to see a way out of this.”
He tilted his head up slightly, catching Charles nodding in forlorn agreement. To see him agree, that despite it all at least he hadn’t changed, Arthur knew he was right to come back here.
“If it weren’t for those left I can rightly say I still trust…” he admitted softly, faltering when Charles caught his gaze.
He thought to clarify his statement. That even in the short time they’ve known each other he’s found great wisdom in his words, more than any he’s heard from Dutch recently. Beyond that, there was a feeling beyond the camaraderie he shared with the rest of the gang. Something he ought to confess while he still had the air to do it.
Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Do you regret it, Arthur?”
Arthur met his eyes again, those deep, near black pools he constantly found himself entranced by. Like the night sky they felt infinite, filled with limitless possibility, and in the light of the fire they sparkled with stars. They invited him to open himself up in ways he had never done with another person. Despite himself, he almost always did.
“No,” he said in a definitive whisper, “not all of it.”
It could have been the flickering shadows casted on his face by the fire but, as Arthur looked at him, he thought he saw the faintest smile.
Charles leaned back slightly. “So what are you trying to get at, Arthur?”
If there’s one thing Arthur disliked more than those who crossed him, it was being misunderstood. Not that he could blame Charles for it. As much as he wished to be honest, his body strained as if every muscle attempted to force the words out, they wouldn’t come. Deep down, he knew why.
“What I’m trying to say is,” he started, “is that I don’t think I’d ever feel this way if I wasn’t dying myself. Especially not about Dutch. I thought I knew him my whole life but it turns out I barely knew him at all, now I’m starting to learn. Too little too late, I guess.”
He spat into the flames, a curse on the name of someone he used to consider a friend. This wasn’t why he came here. Yet the further he got into his doubts, the less he began to recall why he came to begin with.
Charles took him back out of his thoughts with a scoff. “Come on, that’s bullshit Arthur. You aren’t Micah, constantly feeding into his delusions all the time, out of all of us you’ve been the most cautious. Even in the face of Dutch’s decisions, it was you who looked out for us.”
Arthur darted his eyes back over to Charles upon mention of Micah. So he noticed too, he thought.
He swiftly retorted, “And look how much good that did us. Sean, Hosea, Lenny, I was wary then but in the end I stuck by him. Him and his ‘plans’. I ain’t any less guilty in all this.”
Charles chewed on his lip for a moment. “Maybe you aren’t, but can you really blame yourself when he took advantage of your loyalty?”
“No, but I can blame myself for not being smarter. For not… not sticking up when it mattered!”
Arthur forced the words out before another bout of coughing overcame him once more. Charles sat quietly, unable to find the words to rebut him as he watched him fight his sickness helplessly. Eventually, his fit passed; Arthur swallowed hard and gasped, sweat clear on his brow now. The world shifted uneasily on its axis and he fought to rebalance it in his mind.
Once he could see clearly again, Arthur broke the silence. “You know how I would run errands for Strauss? It’s how I got into this whole mess to begin with. Beating on people who didn’t deserve it, all because we let him take advantage of their situation. That’s one thing I do regret.”
He turned his eyes up until they met Charles’, full of sympathetic sorrow.
“Before I tossed him out I went on two more jobs for him. It wasn’t ‘til then that I could see what he did to folk. I always felt it was dirty work, more than our usual brand of it, but these people lost everything, had nothing left to give, and I always found a way to take more anyways.”
His words threatened to choke him, but he pushed through regardless. “I wisened up enough to do right by them, but for others… for Mrs. Downes… I fear I’m too late to fix everything.”
A low rumble cleared Arthur’s throat and, for once, he felt like he could breathe a little easier. Charles looked off to some point on the leather tarp, thinking to himself. Then he adjusted his hands and pushed himself along the floor. Arthur watched him quietly as he maneuvered around the fire, until he sat by his side with only the smallest gap between them. It was close, far closer than he would have liked given his current circumstances. But he didn’t try to push himself away either.
They sat together like this for a few quiet beats, before Charles finally said, “Maybe it isn’t about fixing things. Maybe, it’s about doing better.”
A snort came out of Arthur that Charles raised a brow at, but he shook his head to let him know he didn’t laugh at him. Moreover the irony of it all. Similar words were told to him by the sister, just before she left for Mexico, as well as Mrs. Downes. Like some higher power worked through them, although Arthur knew it was simply the judgment of better men than him.
Right then, it clicked for him why he ultimately came to Charles. More than anything else, he wanted to see his worth measured, if there was anything worth measuring.
Arthur breathed out a collected, raspy sigh, then turned his sunken eyes on his comrade once again. His brows upturned, they created small creases in the middle of his forehead that spoke to deep, underlying concern. Yet he could also read this sense of conviction in that gaze, that he meant every word and knew he was capable of greater things. Despite everything they had been through together, he saw more in him than he ever saw in himself. Guess that made him and Dutch similar in one aspect, albeit for different reasons. Another bit of irony.
While he didn’t completely believe it himself, he took that thought to heart as he replied, “That’s why, despite what little sense I have left, I gotta go back to Dutch. See if there’s still some way to get him off the path he’s on, and help everybody else. Or maybe I’m still the same fool that got myself killed.”
“Hey, you’re not dead yet,” Charles said in a softer timbre, his hand rested on top of Arthur’s as he leaned closer.
Arthur looked down at that hand and felt another pang of sorrow punch his chest. He offered the smallest nod of acknowledgment. “Yeah, not yet.”
He couldn’t help but focus on it now, as much as he tried to avoid it. The feeling that he let another life slip through his fingers, one better than the life he led up to this point. One he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he tried.
For a fleeting moment, he thought to take that hand. Even if it was just this moment, he could temporarily relieve himself of the overwhelming burden placed upon him. Find some small semblance of comfort in someone who didn’t need to fear the long shadow he cast behind him. Someone who truly understood.
Arthur pulled his hand away and stood, albeit with some difficulty. “I already told John this, but when the time comes I need you to get out of here. As far away from all this as you can get.”
His heart thrummed in his chest now, as if he couldn’t see another opportunity to get these words out.
“Arthur?”
Charles stood and Arthur intercepted his shoulders on the way up, holding onto him as he held back another bout of coughing. “This gang’s time is at an end and you need to make yourself scarce when it all goes to hell.”
He nodded towards the tent flap. “These people, they’ll need someone who’ll keep them safe. It won’t be any better for them no matter where they go. And I know you’d continue to do right by them just as you’ve already done.”
He couldn’t force it back anymore and snapped his head away as he hacked aggressively into his jacket. His hands slipped from Charles and he pulled the corner of the coat up tighter to better cover himself. Arthur had no idea what the hell he was saying, but he didn’t know what other options Charles had. He didn’t have a family like John, and he didn’t want him to risk striking out on his own. If the law didn’t catch up with him, then the perverse morals of modern civilization would. More than anything he needed people who would have his back just as much as he had theirs. At the moment, it seemed to be the only sensible option.
“Damn it, Arthur, wait a minute!” Charles protested, clapping a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You can’t ask me to abandon you now!”
Arthur picked up the use of singular, a small comfort as he fought to regain breath. “I ain’t-”
He managed only a couple words before he doubled over himself again, allowing Charles to continue.
“Yeah, like hell you ain’t. After all we’ve been through, you’re asking me to cut and run? That sickness must have reached up to your head if you think-”
“I ain’t tellin’ you to leave now!” Arthur finally growled, bringing Charles to silence.
Turning his head, he threw his coat to the side and stood back up to his normal height. Charles watched him patiently, barely moving as Arthur placed a hand on the shoulder opposite where he held him.
He took a few small, weak breaths, and repeated, “I’m not telling you to leave now. Just when the time is right. You deserve better than all of this.”
Better than me.
Charles recognized the hard look in his eyes, the same grievous tone he met with when Arthur first came into camp, and ultimately nodded.
“Ok. Ok. But until then, I’ll ride with you until the end.”
Arthur felt a wave of relief come over him, and he returned the nod. “I know.”
As he started to pull away, Charles’ grip intensified and he yanked him back forcefully, locking him into a powerful hug. It caught Arthur by complete surprise, the wind literally knocked out of him as he wheezed against his ear. But as he felt his arms hook around his back and squeeze him tight, he began to relax into the embrace.
It spoke to a lifetime of emotion, one that he had felt ever since he stepped inside this tent. Like everything else, it threatened to run off into the sunset as it sank below the horizon and, like everything else, he nearly let it. This time, however, he took a moment to stop and watch as its outline faded into the encroaching darkness.
Arthur wrapped his arms around Charles and tucked his head against the crook of his neck. He brought himself in as close as he could manage and, as he closed his eyes, he willed with every fiber of himself for this moment to last. Out of every day that turned like the lackadaisical roll of a wagon wheel, he pleaded that it would halt its course just this once. He was owed that much, wasn’t he?
But all too soon, he felt Charles pull away, and he reluctantly let him go. When at last he opened his eyes to meet his deep brown portals, he only saw himself in them.
“I know,” Arthur repeated, forcing a weak smile onto his face.
Charles reflected that smile, although he couldn’t say if his was any more genuine. With a tip of his hat, he exited the tent alone and crossed through the reservation back to where his horse stood hitched. All the while he kept his head down, his face a shadow beneath his wide-brimmed hat. As he mounted the mare, a single drop of water fell to the earth beneath them, a sign of the brewing storm to come. He spurred the steed to follow the trail back to camp, where he traveled silently under the clear, open night sky. With only a constellation of stars to light his way.