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.
