#drunk arthur

5:27 PM

The sound of the saloon echoed around us as we drank, eyes glancing at the two men sitting on either side of me. Neither of the guys seemed to care as they knocked drinks back, chatting together as I sat back in my chair and listened, overly aware of the judgmental eyes watching us. Not only was a non-working girl sitting at the bar, but I was with men that were involved in the fight. Specifically Arthur. In their defense, they really hadn’t done anything to start that fight. Something which Arthur reminded the bartender as he ordered a bottle of whiskey for our group. 

And he was technically right, Bill had started the fight. The other guys that joined in were just following up on the initial blows from Bill and the guy he was fighting. Ride or die, I guess. 

“So you think you’ll go get him?” Lenny asked as he winced from the alcohol he sipped. 

Arthur grimaced, “if it were up to me, I’d let the bastard hang, but it ain’t up to me. This was Dutch’s call.”

“I feel like Micah doesn’t care about nobody but himself and only himself,” Lenny huffed, “well that and maybe his horse.” 

The men laughed and cheered in front of me, knocking their glasses back and slamming them down on the table. 

“Now, Emma,” Lenny turned to me and smiled, “tell me, does a lady like you know how to drink?” 

I scoffed, “a lady would never, but I never claimed to be such a thing, did I?” the corner of my mouth rose in a mischievous smirk as I glanced at Arthur who was smiling back at me. 

“I bet you can’t keep up with the likes of us,” Arthur leaned over and breathed into my ear, sending chills down my spine. 

I gulped but pulled back and looked at him square in the eyes, rising to the challenge, “oh you’re fuckin’ on cowboy,” and with that, filled my cup and took the drink in one swoop, cringing as it burned down my throat and settling into my stomach.

—

6:42 PM

The glass fell from Lenny’s hand and shattered on the floor beneath us, all three of us bursting out in laughter as if it were the funniest thing we’d ever seen. Arthur balanced one on his hand and with the sway of his body, it fell to the floor below, shattering alongside Lenny’s. 

The conversation covered just about every range of topics from Lenny’s parents and why Arthur never married Mary, to why I wasn't married and living in Boston with some rich oil man, to our horses and the people that filled the camp. It was such an easy-flowing conversation that I barely noticed when Lenny brought up what happened to my family when he asked about my mom. 

“She was young,” I finally broke our silence, the three of us sipping from our new, unbroken glasses. 

They both just listened as the story half poured out of me as if I was made of my own whiskey and emptying the bottle into someone else's glass. 

“I remember, we were on a train, buncha cowboys rode up on us and killed a whole bunch of folk in the cars in front of us. We were in the back in the private car with one of daddy's friends,” I paused and my face grew tight as I remembered the day it all happened. 

I remembered thinking my father had abandoned us all in that car, how Griffin had held me as I cried when that outlaw shoved his gun into my mother's chest and threatened her. A chill ran over my spine thinking about him, his features blurred in the haze of time passing over the memory. 

I could remember small details, how he had dark hair and wore a pocket watch like the rich men that sat with my father over brandy did. He was well put together, much more than any outlaw I’d ever imagined. I remembered the young man he had with him, how his eyes pierced into our own as he approached the man that killed my mother and told him the law was comin’. 

“I lost my mom that day, on the Southway rail back before it was Levi’s,” I downed my drink. 

Arthur nodded, his shoulder leaning into mine gently to gather my attention, “looks like we are both a product of change and society. One and the same. Orphans,” his lip came up in a small curl on one side - an attempt at relating to me. 

“Yeah, I guess we are,” I clinked my glass into his and poured us another round. 

—

8:31 PM

My eyes can't open. I'm laughing so hard as all the men in the saloon had gathered, the piano playing a lively ragtime tune. I clapped along with the beat and watched them all kick one leg out and then the other, balancing on each other's shoulders. It was the first time in a long time I’d laughed this hard. In fact, the whole evening was the first time in longer than I could remember that I’d laughed like this. 

Lenny jumps out from the line and grabs my hand, yanking me to my feet and pulling me into the line between him and Arthur. I yelp, eyes bugging from my head as I stumbled but they caught me, pulling me into the line as we all kick out of sync. It’s the best time I've had in god knows how long. 

Eventually, the music changes, something slower and more intimate and the line breaks apart, Lenny grabs the current bottle of whiskey and as he goes to hand it to us, he realized that Arthur has swept me up in his own arms, spinning me in circles. 

“Arthur…” I look up at him, my eyes worried because this seemed too intimate for public, but also I didn’t want to stop. 

“Just give me the one dance, darlin’,” his voice swayed as much as our bodies did and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lenny smirking at us as he drank straight from the brown whiskey bottle. 

—

10:87 MP?

“Lenny? L-Lenny!” I whipped my head around the saloon looking for him. 

“Len? Lenny… Lennayyyy?!” Arthur called, stumbling into the bar top and reaching for the bartender, “have you” he hiccups, “seen him?” 

“I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about friend,” the bartender said as he casually wiped down a glass. 

“Lenny!” I called again, stumbling up to Arthur, “you found him?” I sounded excited. 

“Nope. Not even,” hiccup, “not even close.” 

“I dunno where that boy would’ve run off to.”

“Let's go on a hunt!” Arthur slammed down the glass in front of him after shooting yet another glass of whiskey back. 

—

00:00 AMPM

“Whatever you do, do not go up,” hiccup “up… don’t go up.” Both of the Arthur’s I see in front of me look like they are about to tumble down the stairs as he points behind him to the rooms on the top floor. 

“Wh-why?” I stumbled into his arms as he descended the stairs. 

“Well see, they all look like Lenny, but they sure as shit ain’t Lenny! Especially the woman,” he broke out in a burst of almost violent laughter. 

“Where in the hell could that boy be?”

“Come on, let’s go look,” he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me along with him as we stumbled out the back door. A man and workin’ girl laughing saying “how nice it is to be young”. 

—

12:25 A/PM

We search, stumbling together around the back of the saloon headed in the complete opposite direction of the town, and find ourselves in a field, singing and dancing while sharing a bottle of whiskey. Eventually, we forget altogether that we were even looking for him. Our eyes adjusted to the dim evening, trees and grass blowing in the cool wind as we skipped and danced under the stars in that field. 

It had to be after midnight but even as the lights faded from the town, we could still faintly hear the party in the saloon still continuing on without us. The sound of Valentine growing quieter while the sounds of the heartlands growing louder. 

Eventually, we found a nice little spot under a tree, the grass was thick but we didn’t mind as we sipped whiskey from the bottle we passed between us. The amber fire made my belly warm and my body loose. It felt good to get out and have some fun. Something I’d never really been allowed to do in modern society when I was expected to behave like a lady. 

“Arthur, why aren’t you married? Or ever with,” hiccup, “with a woman?” I asked as I flopped down into the grass and rested my head on a soft pile of grass while I looked up at the stars. 

Arthur sat down at my side and laid back next to me, his head matching my own. He hesitated before he answered but finally told me about her. 

“I almost was as a matter of fact,” he said quietly. “Even considered askin’ her to marry me.”

I sat straight up in shock and looked down at him laying beside me, his left arm bracing under his head while his right arm reached out towards me for the whiskey bottle. 

“Well, what happened?” I asked, handing him the bottle. 

He took a long pull, “her daddy never approved of me. Hell, she never really truly approved of me either. She was some rich woman caught up in the romance of bein’ on the run. She asked me to leave this gang so many damn times and each time I thought sure, I could walk away from all this. But look at how that ended up for Hosea? And Dutch is like a father to me. He found me on the streets fendin’ for myself. I couldn’t turn my back on them.”

He smiled softly and looked up at me gawking as he spoke, “as much as I loved her, she would never love me the same way. Least not in the way I wanted her to. And I couldn’t be what she needed, I can’t change for someone like that,” he coughed as he took another sip and passed it back to me. 

“No one should ever ask you to,” I said softly as I took the bottle back out of his strong hands, his fingers brushing over mine softly. 

He just grunted, nodding as he looked up at the sky above us. The stars were so bright, so clear in the sky I could almost count each one of them. I watched his features change, the lines in his forehead becoming harder as his mind went over what was undoubtedly every conversation he’d ever had with this Mary woman. I could see the frustration, the anger playing out and I hated that she would elicit such emotion from him. He didn’t deserve to be hung up on this woman who was clearly no good for him. 

—

1:37 AM

We sat next to one another, Arthur to my left and a small tree to my right. I took a deep breath, thinking about Kieran tied up at camp, helpless and unable to fend for himself against the guys. I know Bill was absolutely giving him hell, I’d seen it with my own eyes. As for the girls, they were likely steering clear from him, not wanting to rock the recently steadied boat. It slipped out of me before I could even register what I was sayin’.

“Kieran was the one that helped me escape,” I hiccuped and took a very long drink from the bottle, not wanting to make eye contact with Arthur out of fear of what he would do. 

I pulled the drink from my lips slowly and watched him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were trained on me, but his mouth parted, chest moving up and down with each breath. 

“He fed me and kept me alive during all that,” I paused, slightly nervous to keep talking, and looked down at the grass poking up around my legs. “I’ve been feedin’ him in camp, trying to repay him I guess. Abigail knows, but I wanted to be the one to tell you,” I cringed, thinking about how much time has passed since they first picked up Kieran. 

I couldn’t stop it once the admission came out, I just had to keep talking. “Abigail said that I should trust you with the knowledge. That if I really considered you my friend, I should tell you but I just…” I sucked in a deep breath, “I already lost everyone and didn’t want to lose you too. I didn’t want you to look at me the way Dutch does.”

There was a very long pause before he cleared his throat, lighting a cigarette that was perched between his lips, and took a long drag, inhaling the smoke and blowing it out. He looked up at the trail of smoke blowing away slowly in the gentle breeze. A chill ran over me as his eyes landed back on mine. 

“Arthur, say somethin’,” I pleaded. 

He took another drag from his cigarette and blew it out, “I know.”

“Wh… what?” I looked at him nervously. 

He laughed deep in his chest, “you ain’t as sneaky as you think you are,” he pointed his fingers holding the cigarette at me, and smiled a cocky grin. “But you should be thankful it was Uncle that said somethin’ and not someone else like John or Karen. They got loud mouths and if Dutch found out you were helpin’ an O’Driscoll?” he ticked his tongue against his teeth and looked at me again. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Oh I’m trouble?” I laughed, “What about you Mr ‘I’m gonna beat every man in town’,” I made a fake country accent and lowered my voice mocking him. 

“Is that what you think I sound like?” he laughed, tossing his cigarette and reaching for the bottle between us only to have me swipe it from his fingertips and lean back taking another sip.

His hands reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards him and making me squeal in delight and surprise. I could feel his grip loosen but then his arm wrapped around my middle and we spilled over into the grass together, laughing and giggling like teenagers. His fingers tickled at the side of my ribs, making me thrash beneath him in uncontrolled laughter. 

“Watch out!” he hollered, “we got us a real wild mustang over here!” he laughed as I bucked my hips and tried to roll out from under him, only to be met with more torturous tickling. It was past the borderline of friendly fun and way into flirting territory but I think we were both too drunk to care anymore. 

“Arthur! Stop! I can’t breathe!!” I laughed, coughing as I struggled to breathe, “Stop it oh god!” I giggled. 

—

2:91 ?AM

“What’s going through that head of yours?” I asked, laying back down beside him. 

He grunted, “nothin’ worth talkin’ about.” His face turned towards mine, our noses barely touching and I could see his lips part slightly. His adams apple bobbed and his eyes shifted from my own to my lips. My tongue darted out and my own eyes wandered to the scruff of his beard. 

Before I knew what I was doing, my hand reached out to cup his jaw. My thumb ran over the scruff that dusted his face, tracing the small scar that parted the hair on his chin. His own hand came to my cheek and our eyes met once again, the breath between us mingling together as we soaked in one another. 

It happened so fast, his drunken lips finding mine, our teeth clashing together as our noses squished up into one another. I could taste whiskey and tobacco on his lips, his tongue pushing out to part my own, and I greedily accepted it, swallowing his breath with each lap of our tongues. They fought for dominance as his hand came to mine, pushing me back into the grass as he rolled over to hover above me. His strong thighs pushed between my legs, causing me to wrap them around his waist while one of his hands came down to my hip and gripped me with such a strength that I knew there would be bruises tomorrow. 

So this is what Arthur was like with his women. Not the controlled lover, but the dominant, unrestrained man with primal needs.

—

9:25 AM

Everything hurts. My eyes refused to open into the blinding light shining in from the window. The window…

Where was I? The last thing I could remember was looking for Lenny and then…

Oh god. 

I opened my eyes to find myself in the hotel of Valentine, partially undressed and wrapped in the comforter that lay on the bed. Arthur was nowhere to be found. 

What the fuck happened last night?

The door opened and Arthur walked in carrying a small tray of food from the saloon. It looked to be a breakfast stew of some kind, eggs, and meat and maybe some kind of gravy? My stomach lurched and I held the back of my hand to my mouth out of fear that if I didn’t block it, I would hurl all over this room. 

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Arthur looked concerned. 

I shook my head, the movement causing me to groan and lay back down, “no, just shhh,” I tried to close my eyes again. 

“I brought you some good hangover food, this’ll help,” he smiled and sat gingerly down on the side of the bed, placing the tray in front of me. 

The smell was divine, unlike anything Pearson would cook back at camp, “god I could eat an entire horse I’m so hungry,” I laughed, propping myself up slightly as I took the fork from the plate and speared a piece of sausage. 

Arthur watched me and smiled when I proved I could keep my food down, but frowned when he noticed me hesitate as my eyes searched around the room. 

“What happened last night Arthur?” I asked. 

“What do you remember?” 

“We were lookin’ for Lenny and- did we ever find him?”

“Nope, but he made his way back to camp, I found out this mornin’ that he went back earlier.”

“Oh,” was my only reply. I ate another bite and immediately my stomach rejected the food, making me turn towards the trash can and vomit into it. My head spun as I flopped back down on the bed. 

“Remind me never to drink like that again,” I groaned, flopping my arm over my eyes, “oww.” 

Arthur reached into the satchel resting on the side of the bed and dug around for a tonic, pulling the cap off and handing it to me. “Here, try this, it’ll help you feel a bit more normal,” he smiled and nudged it at my arm. 

I groan, taking the tonic in one gulp and shutter at the taste as it threatens to come back up. I manage to keep all of the contents in my stomach this time. 

“How did we get here last night? I don’t remember ever checking in here.”

“I already had the room booked when I came to bathe. I just figured, one of us was going to be too drunk to ride back to camp and we might as well have a place to stay that we didn’t have to set up camp for ourselves.” He shrugged. 

“Smart,” I said as we ate together in mostly silence, the occasional sigh or grunt coming from one of us. 

“How are you feelin’,” I asked when I realized he looked much better than I probably did. 

“Surprisingly ok, considerin’ how much we had last night.”

“You take hangovers much better than I do I guess,” I smiled and winced, making my face into more of a grimace than a smile.

“You should drink some water, it’ll help,” he handed me a small canteen from the side table next to the bed. 

I graciously took it, bringing the canteen to my lips and taking a long sip. The cool water soothed the ache in my throat almost instantly. 

“So what do we do after this?” I forked another large bite into my mouth. 

“Well,” he paused around a dry biscuit, “I guess we oughta head back to camp. We did what we were supposed to, came out and drank, even if we lost Lenny in the process,” he chuckled. 

“Right, we definitely got the drinking part down,” I laughed as we finished up our meal. 

Arthur offered to take the tray back down to give me a moment to clean myself up and get dressed. I found fresh clothes he had brought from the saddlebags on Apollo, along with a new stalker hat that I wasn’t sure was mine. The reflection of myself in the mirror, half-dressed with my red hair going in every direction possible, I groaned, realizing that Arthur had seen me look like this. With a sigh, I straightened myself out and got dressed. 

I stood in front of the mirror, my red hair now in a simple braid down my back and dressed in black everyday pants, a black collared overshirt, and my worn boots. I placed the new hat on my head and looked at myself. I didn’t look like anyone I recognized. The skinny leather band that looped around the black hat glistened from the light coming in from the window like it had been freshly oiled. 

The smile on my face grew. I looked like the person my younger self envisioned I’d be. 

I looked like an outlaw. 

He was waiting out front with the horses, nodding off slightly as he leaned against the hitching post when I emerged from the hotel. Arthur wasn’t a particularly menacing man when he was calm and quiet like this. He looked beautiful, or at least as beautiful as one could look this relaxed. 

“You sleepin’ on the job cowboy?” I called out to him, making his head shoot up and look around for me. 

“Come on, I gotta make a stop on the way,” he said as he turned away from the horses and walked up to the wooden platform that ran along with the town. 

We walked together in silence, and as we approached the last building, he stopped and turned into the gunsmith. The bell chimed as the door swung shut behind us. 

“What are you aimin’ for to-” the gunsmith looked up and his eyes narrowed, “now listen mister, I don’t want no trouble. You just state your business or be on your way.”

Arthur’s hands came up showing they were empty, “I'm just here to spend some hard-earned money, that’s all.”

I looked at him and back to the gunsmith who was now staring at me, curious about my unladylike attire, and offered him a small smile. 

“What are we doin’ here Arthur?” I whispered. 

“We are gettin’ you a gun,” he smiled, walking up to the counter and opening the catalog. 

“No, no way. I have one!” I argued, “you can’t get me a new gun Arthur, that’s expensive!” 

He ignored me and pointed towards the Schofield revolver in the case, “can I see that one?”

The gunsmith pulled it out and checked it wasn’t loaded before handing it to him. He examined the weapon, then placed it down on the counter and slid it towards me. 

“Try this one,” he instructed. 

I scoffed but picked it up in my hand. It felt heavy and a little bulky for my hands. Clearly evident that it was too big for me, he shook his head and took the gun to hand back to the gunsmith, grip first. 

“How about that cattleman right there,” he pointed to a slightly smaller gun that sat to the left in the case. 

The gunsmith grabbed it, checking again to make sure there were no bullets in it, and handed it over to us. 

Arthur did a thorough inspection, checking to see if everything looked in order before handing it over to me again. I held the cool metal in my hands, unsure what he was really looking for me to do. I looked up to him as he hummed, then he asked how much. The men negotiated the price, and within minutes, I had a brand new gun and holster with ammunition to go with it all. 

“Arthur, I can’t pay you back for all this, I can’t…”

“It’s ok. You needed a proper weapon, not a relic,” he said as he adjusted my new holster on the belt. 

“It wasn’t a relic! I mean,” I scoff, “ok maybe it was a little old but it wasn’t that bad. It still works!” I protest. 

“No more arguing, let’s get a move on before we waste the whole day,” he turns and heads back to his horse, leaving me no choice but to follow behind. 

The horses were right where we left them, but there was a tall, well-dressed man standing nearby, gently stroking Apollo’s head while he whispered what a beautiful horse he was. It was odd to see a man that was so well dressed in a town like Valentine. Maybe an investor that had taken the train in from the city. Or an oil man looking for a bank to work with. Reminds me of Blackwater a little. Seeing the odd fellow come off the ferry every now and then. 

Arthur grumbled under his breath, the agitation wafting off him in massive waves. His shoulders scrunched tighter and his face turned sour with a grimace. My eyes pulled away from the man by the horses and looked at Arthur’s frown. 

“Do you know that man?” I asked, feeling slightly queasy from what I assumed was the hangover. 

Instead of responding, Arthur just walked up behind him and cleared his throat. 

“Trelawny, what do I owe the pleasure?”

The man turned and a huge almost cartoonish smile swept over his features, “Arthur! My word you’ve grown since the last time I saw you!” he held his hands out wide. 

“That was only a few months ago, Trelawny. I’ve stopped growin’ for a while now,” his voice rang with annoyance. 

“Ahh yes, maybe in height, but not in width, dear boy!” he smiled before realizing I was standing next to Arthur, “and who is this beautiful creature? Does she have a name?” he held his hand out to take mine, to which I placed my hand gingerly. The man leaned forward and kissed the top of my knuckles, his own lips lingering for a beat too long before I replied. 

“She speaks too,” I pulled my hand back and wiped it on my shirt. 

“Oh I like this one, Mr. Morgan.” 

“Yeah, she’s a real spitfire,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “What are you doin’ here Trelawny? Thought you were off scammin’ folk outta their money out west? Or did you give up on that particular charm of yours?”

“I come with news! News of a particular friend with whom we are acquainted. A certain, Irishman, a red-headed fellow.”

“That so?” Arthur’s eyebrows perked up. “What’s the word?”

“The word is that after your escape from Blackwater, which what a mighty fine show I might say. You’ve really got those bounty hunters in a frenzy. I wish you could’ve seen the place after you all nearly cheated death! What a grand-”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Get to the point,” Arthur interrupted him. 

“Don’t be rude boy, I was getting to that. Anyways, after all that commotion you lot caused, our dear old Sean seems to have himself stuck back in Blackwater I’m afraid. The same bounty hunters that were looking for you caught him trying to flee the area.”

Arthur sighed and looked at me, a high of an eye roll for the dramatics of Trelawny. 

“Ok, and what am I supposed to do about this?” “Well, I’m gifting you this information because they are holding him until they can get the best price for him.”

“With how much that boy talks, I’m surprised they haven’t asked to pay us to take him back,” Arthur laughed, neither of us finding it funny. 

I piped in, “so where are they holding him? Do we know?” 

“Well, my dear girl, that is the million-dollar question, isn’t it. From the information I’ve gathered, they are moving him soon, further upriver to a location for transfer. It’s all set to take place three days from now,” he nodded. 

“Well, I guess I’ll go run this by Dutch and see what he makes of it. You comin’ by to share the information? Or are you just stoppin’ in town to pick up a girl or two?”

I scoff at Arthur’s abrupt rudeness. Trelawny doesn’t bat an eye. 

“I’ll be there by tomorrow, I have some business to attend to in town. Give Dutch my love,” he waves over his shoulder as he retreats towards the saloon. 

We both stood there and watched his back fade into the swinging doors of the Valentine saloon before I turned to watch Arthur gear up to get on the road. It was safe to say that that man, Trelawny, put Arthur in a sour mood. Even more so than the hangover did. He’s silent, not wanting to discuss things any further and I don’t push him. If I were being honest, my headache alone was enough to throw me off balance. I didn’t need Arthur’s annoyance taken out on me instead. 

We both mounted our horses, me a little more slowly than Arthur did, but were soon headed off towards Horseshoe. Neither of us spurs our horses into anything faster than a trot, their hooves sloshing in the mud before hitting dry grass. It’s a quiet ride, for the most part, our bodies feeling like we could fall off our horse at any moment in time. It’s not until we slow to a walk that I let my mind do any real thinking. 

He hasn’t asked what I remember, nor has he offered what he remembers either. And if he asked, I’m not even sure what I’d say. That I remember it all? All the way up until the walk back to Valentine? When he had to carry me halfway because I was genuinely going to blackout? Or maybe before that, when we were still in the saloon. Do I just skip every detail, every conversation we had? At what point do I stop remembering the way his lips felt on mine? 

Lost in thought, I don’t even realize that my fingers have come up to touch my own lips, savoring the memory of the way he tasted. Of how he took control and devastated me at the same time. Do I choose to remember that he pulled away from me like I was made of hot coals, explaining how he couldn’t do this, not with someone like me?