One one hand he thinks this place ain’t all that bad and being ‘round folk who are decent is sure a nice change from what he left, but on the other he can’t help but feel as though he’s stumbling on the fringes of a steel trap that’s waiting to snap shut about him the moment he lets his guard down. He can’t help but watch the shadows every morning as though he’s expecting them to show on up despite knowing there’s ain’t no possible way they coulda followed him out here. He’s come too far, he thinks, and he doubts they’re even looking, but that worry is there just the same.
So he keeps his eyes open whenever he’s out on the trail with Bo, and listens close while he’s eating supper or playing at them cards for any opportunity to be had. For something to come his way to guarantee enough cash to get him on out of here 'fore it’s too late. But there ain’t nothing to see nor hear though; seems as though Plainview is just as plain as its name suggests. It’s decidedly dull, he thinks. Or perhaps there are things about and he just don’t see them on the account of not wanting to see 'em. After all, he don’t really want to destroy the one good thing he has going for him.
Hosea:Ok, that’s an interesting thought, but hear me out: what if… we ran an experiment where we spent the rest of our lives finding out what happened if we never told him?
It’s Hosea’s turn to feel a touch of guilt. He masks it, or at least attempts to, by taking another slow drink of the tea. Then he clears his throat.
“I ain’t wanna ruin the day for you. Not much luck there, I’m afraid. And here I was hoping we’d avoid all this nonsense, at least until we made it back home.”
Arthur scoffs and he swears he can see the youth roll his eyes. “You ain’t ruin nothin’. Why, I don’t know about you, but I had a splendid day.”
Arthur’s bluffing. He knows he is, because there ain’t no way the kid’s gonna look back at this day and remember the good stuff. Rather it’s going to be about how old Hosea did nothing but bring a damper to it all. It’s a shame and Hosea wishes he can change that, but he knows there’s nothing for it.
“I know you were looking forward to this, Arthur,” Hosea tells him gently. “But there’ll be another chance to come this way. Maybe next time you’ll be old enough to come out on your own and you wont have to worry about me interfering.”
“It won’t be the same without you,” Arthur replies so quick that he ain’t even have to pause to think of it. That, Hosea thinks, is a true sentiment and it warms his heart more than any drink can.
He ain’t got no money on him. No, that’s long been spent, wasted foolishly on drink a few weeks back when he was drowning out his sorrows. Since then he’s been scrounging. Picking pockets where he can and robbing folk on the trail when there’s been nobody around. But this close to town he ain’t like chancing it; hard telling what kind of law was about. Last thing he needed was to end up behind bars.
So he’ll keep his head down, see if there’s honest work about. It’s a small town, just as many rural towns are. Big enough for the folk who live there, but not big enough to draw all manner of folk in. Arthur knows he getting looks; he sticks out like a sore thumb on the account he ain’t shaved nor washed for a time and his clothes are quite a sight. If he can find something, he might have enough to get himself decent. If not, he figures the river works just as well.————————————–Arthur’s on the run. But why?
Tags: Angst, Emotional hurt/comfort, Found Family, Early Days of the Gang
Mark don’t say nothing, nor does he treat him any different and for that Arthur’s glad. He ain’t sure what he’d do if the man did as he don’t like being coddled, but since he ain’t, there’s no reason to worry over it. So Arthur continues to do what he’s always done and settles right back into his routine. It’s easier now on account of the weight that’s been lifted off his shoulders and he ain’t have to think of lies to cover questions he gets asked.
It’s nice, he thinks. Nice in a way he might get accustomed to.
Though it don’t stay that way for long. Arthur’s been many of things, but it feels as though he’s never been one for luck. And that trend seems to continue, considering what he sees once he steps on outside that morning.
He’s good with horses, see. He likes them and he’s feels as though he’s pretty apt in recognizing one breed from the next, but even if he weren’t, he’d be a fool to not notice ‘em. The Count and Silver Dollar are exceptionally distinguishable and they stand out in any crowd.
There’s words between, sure, but they ain’t nothing more than whats absolutely needed and Arthur ain’t quite all that sure what to make of it. Part of him wants to be grateful, cause the man’s done dropped the issue, but he all the same there’s guilt over it and Arthur feels as though the man deserves to know on account of all he’s been doing for him.
So one day, after Mark tells him he’s done, Arthur heads on out and grabs a couple of beers and comes on back. He puts one in Mark’s hand and sits on down on a crate out back and the man does the same. They sit there in the afternoon sun, drinking, all the while Arthur tells him ‘bout everything.
Y'all ever think about how if Hosea and Dutch taught Arthur to read and write, buying paper or paper notebooks would have been too expensive so they probably got him a slate to practice on? And maybe that he even kept it and that’s what John practiced on.
