In The West

Chapter 3

After near an hour of searching, he finally finds what he's looking for.

It's the right size and just starting to bloom. He takes his knife, jutting it into the terrain and slowly digs it up, taking care to keep the roots intact. Fits in his hand it does, nestled there like it were meant to be and it brings a comfort he cannot describe.

Copper draws near, scrambles halfway into his lap sniffing. Arthur runs his free hand over his head, scratching behind his ears.

“It's a flower my ma loved. Like to keep one of these with me, as a way to keep her close. I ain't remember too much about her. She died, when I was just a little thing, but reckon I loved her. Must have, ‘cause I sure do miss her. What about you boy? You miss your ma at all? “

Copper looks at him with those big brown eyes and for a moment something passes between them. Something of understanding and compassion that makes it all feel right.

And then in one, sudden movement, Copper eats the flower. Roots and all.

Chapter 17: John Marston

“You got something to say, or you just gonna keep looking at me like that?” he wondered, voice still raw from the noose.

He ignored the snark, curiosity winning over instead. “You got any family nearby?”

“Nope,” John breathed, chasing around the crumbs with dirtied fingers. “Were just my daddy and me, and he died, years back. Tried to put me up in an orphanage, but it weren't for me. Left on my own, been on my own since.”

Shouldn't have come as a surprise. They’d seen much the same with Arthur; world weren't kind to those who were poor, nor those that were orphans. They were the first that society like to cast aside, the scourge of civilization, a blemish upon humanity. Only confirmed what they'd done was right and Hosea couldn't help but feel they'd come at the right time, for more than one reason, given his state.

His clothes were tattered and frayed, his feet bare, reddened from the cold and carrying a score of cuts and scrapes, an indication he'd been without shoes for some time. Long locks of matted hair stuck to his skin, clinging to the bits of jam that were still smeared across his face.

“I see you've been doing well for yourself,” he mused, watching him still. He saw the youth scowl at that.

“Was doing fine, until those bastards got me,” he scoffed, staring at the corpses. Then his gaze snapped back to where Hosea stood, eyes narrow and dark. “'n it ain't like I asked you to save me anyhow. I'd gotten away, eventually.”

“You were dangling from a rope,” Hosea pointed out, his tone dry, but not without mirth.

John shrugged, discarding the empty pie tin, using a sleeve to wipe at his mouth. He succeeded in smearing the jam further across his face. “I woulda figured it out. I always do.”

Chapter 2

“Come on, boy. We ain’t gonna catch catch nothing if you keep tryin’ to chase them off like some sort of deranged otter. You gots to be patient."

 To that he whimpers, as though he don't agree and Arthur finds himself laughing. 

“I know, boy. Ain't much fun, but we ain't got much choice, do we? It's this, or beans again. And I don't know ‘bout you, but I'm getting sick of eating those.” 

He wags his tail, tilts his head as though he's thinking about it. That's when the first fish nibbles, and Arthur sets it on the line. 

Causes a stir that does. Copper's all excited, yapping and lunging, damn near pulling him off balance as he pulls it in. Ain't nothing more than a small blue gill, ’bout the size of his hand. 

Usually he tosses these ones back. Ain't much of a meal and it lets them grow into bigger ones, but Copper's whining and crying like he's about to die of starvation, so Arthur relents. Tosses it to him. 

Things flopping in the grass and the pup's chasing after it, trying to pin it down. Arthur uses distraction to bait his hook and casts it back out. Copper is making an odd sound, a cross between a growl and a whine as he's trying to keep hold of the thing. It keeps flipping, tail smacking him plum in the face.

"You gonna eat the thing or play with it?" Arthur wonders, watching the entire ordeal play out. 

Chapter 16: A Hanging

Weren't like them to be at odds, but then again, they'd never had a sort of disagreement of this magnitude before. Hosea wasn't quite sure where it was they stood, a delicate balance, a dance almost, trying to navigate it all. True, Dutch hadn't forbade him in venturing out to find the boy, and doubtful he would, but Hosea were no fool either. The man would not be happy in learning as much.

If he didn't already know; man had certainly been keen on watching his every move as of late. All that proven as he rode in, the man standing near the hitching posts, watching him with a glowering stare.

“Am I to take it your hunt was unsuccessful?”

The hunt.

Yes...The pretense he'd hidden under when he'd ridden out that morning, decked with supplies and food. A guise he'd be out most of the day and unwanting to be caught off guard. A claim that someone had to keep the others fed, a lie that might have been successful had he actually taken the time to hunt and bring back some sort of prize.

Would be easy to lie. Hosea was ever the conman, even since he were a youth, yearning for the act upon the stage, quick with his thoughts, quicker even with his tongue, a story already crafted without much restraint, threatening to fall from his mouth. Checked only by that guilt, the one built from years of honesty between the pair of them.

And while they might not share all their truths, it did little to encourage dishonesty. It were an agreement, of sorts, fostered in the months after they'd started running with one another. An understanding that lies and deceit were saved for those they swindled, and not for each other. Did no good in watching each other’s backs when their words could not be trusted.

He conceded. A lie that held a twisted version of the truth. One that Dutch would easily see through.

“Guess that depends on what you're hunting.”

He's ain't keeping the thing.

He ain't.

He's just taking care of it til he can get to town and sell it.

That's all.

'sides, what's he gonna do with a dog?

Or, Arthur gets a puppy aka Origin story for Copper

Chapter 15: The Lake

The man's voice soft, laden with concern instead. “You holding up alright?”

“Right as rain,” Arthur snapped, devouring yet another bite.

“You sure on that?”

“Ain't nothing to concern yourself with,” he waved the man off, desperate to change the topic. “So, what happened after...well, you know?”

After Dutch had tried to put him six feet under. Was a curiosity there, a burning need to know how it'd gone all down. But more importantly to why no one had come after him. He were still sore on that, the wound having festered and yet to start healing. Were going to take a long while for that, if it ever did, he suspected.

He watched as Hosea shook his head, the man's lips pursed tight, before responding. “Took a while for Dutch to simmer and well, he's calmer now; perhaps calm ain’t quite the right word. I think everything has him shaken, honestly.”

“He's shaken?” Arthur laughed, raising an eyebrow, “He ain't the one that'd been threatened to be run through.”

Try as he might, he couldn't forget that. The seething anger, the near-demonic possession that had overcome the man. Arthur had seen Dutch angry plenty of times; but that had been at fools poor and stupid enough to earn his wrath. Never had it been directed towards him, not until as of recent, and if he were being honest – it chilled him to the bone. Left him feeling like he'd a curse cast on him, and that something foul was waiting just beyond the shadows.

“Dutch spoke poorly,” Hosea did his best to explain, “though it's hard to place blame solely on him, given the circumstances.”

“I ain't write that letter.”

His tone solid, unwavering. Cause he didn't—even in his most obscene drunken escapades had he even thought of selling anyone in the gang out, least of all Dutch. He'd been nothing but loyal. Surely that had to count for something.

“I know,” Hosea agreed. Warmed him to the core that did, the lack of hesitation when it came to agreement. Lessened some of the hurt and anger inside.