#rdrd2 oc

39. “You’re not givin’ me much of a choice.” 73. “You know more than you’re telling me.”

Oooh, interesting. I’ll try my best! <3 <3

There it was again- that nasty cough that practically rattled Arthur’s whole being. He reaches one arm up against the saddle of his horse as he exits the general store, leaning the other against his knee as he doubled over, always finishing with a long wheeze before he starts up again.

Every breath he took was raspy and seemed painful. It was hard to watch. He straightens up once the coughing fit was over, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He briefly stared at it, observed was a better term, before clearing his throat and mounting up on his horse. He nods over at Alta to follow, spurring his horse to move.

The young woman furrows her brows in concern. “That cough doesn’t seem to be gettin’ any better, Arthur..” She notes quietly, following him out of the town.

“Sure,” He says, clearing his throat once more. “But don’t you worry ‘bout me. I’ll be fine.”

Alta’s eyes narrow in skepticism. Surely he knows that she doesn’t buy any of that. “You sure as hell don’t look like it. You’re sick and you’re not gettin’ any better. You know more than you’re telling me.” 

Arthur doesn’t reply after that, the ride back to camp going quiet. The only sounds that were heard were the hooves of their horses pounding against the dirt and the wind whistling past their ears. Eventually, he veers off to the right at a forked road, heading into the tall trees of the forest. 

Alta realizes then that whatever he was about to say next was important- why else would he take the longer route back to camp? 

“You always were too observant for me..” Arthur muses to himself, a hint of humor in his tone. He slowed his horse’s steps to a trot, prompting the young woman to do the same. “You’re right, Alta.. I ain’t gettin’ better- in fact, I’m gettin’ worse.. and I don’t think its gonna end well for me.”

Alta swallows the lump in her throat. “So.. you’re sayin’…” She couldn’t bring to finish her own sentence. 

“Yeah.. I’m dyin’. Doc says its tuberculosis- might’ve gotten it from Mr. Downes back in Valentine.” He finished it for her, momentarily looking back to see her downcast eyes before focusing his attention to the path in front of him.

The ride back once quiet once more. The birds chirping overhead along with the leaves rustling gave a serene ambiance- unlike the restlessness and heavy feeling shared between the outlaws. Then another sound was heard. 

Arthur turns his head at the sound of sniffling, seeing Alta brush the tears from her eyes. She tried to hold back her tears, tried to distance herself from the situation like she usually did. But this was different; Arthur was family. After loosing Hosea, she couldn’t take another loss in her life.

“Hey c’mon, don’t go cryin’ on me now. I ain’t dead yet.” He scolded, albeit playfully, in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Alta didn’t know whether to laugh or cry more. Typical Arthur. “You’re not givin’ me much of a choice.” She sniffles, spurring her horse to move alongside his. 

The man sighs, looking over to Alta. He looks over and sees the scared little girl that she once was when Hosea first brought her in. “I ain’t usually the one who says this but- I guess all things come to an end and.. mine is comin’ soon. But that doesn’t mean I still can’t try and do good things, enjoy life while I’m at it..”

Alta nods at this, letting everything sink in. Arthur has a point and if that’s the way he saw it, then she might as well help him live it out. “You sound like Mary-Beth.”

“Well she said that I can be a romantic at times.” He muses. The familiar sound of the camp started growing louder as they neared the clearing they settled in.