Chapter Text
Part 1
That damned horse
Dappled light pooled on the path that wound around the west bank of the Upper Montana River. Robins chattered amongst the branches sung their joyful song. Songbirds sang hidden amongst the young leaves and the odd junco flitted between the brush, not quite ready to migrate North for Summer— which would be soon.
After the harsh Winter, the world was becoming green once again. Short, patchy grass sprung up between dried and crumbling leaves. Little Spring ephemerals of bright, cheery colors had started popping up between the leafing brush. Yet as life woke up around him, the air still carried a chill that stung the throat on the coldest of nights— or when it blew down from the snowcapped peaks.
The wind had him pulling his jacket a bit tighter around him. No matter how badly he wanted the warm embrace of fair weather, the world had to remind him to wait.
As patient as he needed to be, it didn’t stop Arthur from taking in a lungful of that wind which carried the scent of the wilds. He could try and place each note, but that was best left to those much better at it than he. His lack of skill however, didn’t stop him from noting the undertones of pine sap and minerals carried to him from newly exposed rock and earth as the snow receded. Only the peaks remained capped in a thick blanket of snow, waiting for the warmth of Summer to wake them from their Winter slumber.
The breeze ruffled Arthur’s tawny hair, which, after days spent in the respite of the wilds, hung a bit too low over his eyes. Somehow he’d managed to lose his clippers— not that he was very good at cutting his own hair anyways. But the loss of that and his straight razor was made him decide to head back. His beard, which he normally kept short and neatly trimmed, had grown two lengths too long. Lumpy in some parts and tangled in others— but the worst was how damned itchy it was. Had they not been lost, he would have pushed his stay a couple days at least.
His heart belonged to that wild, untamed land. It was a place that never judged him for all of his misdeeds. It never sought to punish him for the cruel acts he committed. He could forget himself among the aspen and spruce— he could let himself go and drift alongside the lazy rivers and towering peaks. The wilds were the only place where he was truly set free— unshackled from the chains of responsibility and the life of sin he led.
Yet all good things had to come to an end eventually. There was no more delaying his obligations to the gang. Each day he stretched into another made the guilt in his belly sink deeper until it was too heavy to ignore. And, he tried to reason, the warmer weather was a welcome reprise from the cold that sunk deep into his bones.
The time he spent away was not taken from granted. It gave him time to clear his head and think on some of the newer members of the gang. It felt that people were coming out of the woodwork and needing a way to follow after being lost or so long. It was Dutch’s infectious word that reeled those wanderers in— a far cry from the old days of just the three of them. Things were much simpler with just him, Dutch and Hosea.
With more people, came more mouths to feed, more fears to assuage and so many more needs to be met.
Arthur sighed and scratched Boadicea’s neck. He dwelt on Dutch’s assurances that his gang were unlike any other gang— they were a family. A merry band of misfits come together under the guise of family, but, he supposed, if it was good enough for Dutch, was good enough for him. It was best not to think on it too long…
Except when Arthur did. It was those assurances and needs that sent him North. Past Strawberry and into Big Valley, he went searching for truth in rumors of homesteaders with pockets a little bit too deep.
Which, much to his surprise, proved to be more than just rumor. There were four homes and at a glance, simple to tell there were valuables littered throughout those houses. Though, it was a job that would take more than him. He needed somebody who knew his way around large game and large takes— and he knew just the silver-tongued feller.
A deer hung over Boadicea’s rear. A young buck whose antlers were just beginning to grow back after shed.
He’d admired the beast over a morning coffee and can of beans. It had sipped so confidently from the clear blue water of lake Owanjila. It was a shame it failed to notice Arthur reach for his rifle and aim slowly until his shot was completely sure. A bullet tore through air, and startled flocks of birds took to the sky. A moment later, the bullet found its mark in the young buck’s breast, felling it on the spot.
He would bring it back so that others wouldn’t get on him for returning seemingly empty handed. Pearson would be more than glad to take it off his hands and make good use of the entire deer. It would satiate the others for a while, which would give him time to sit down with the silver-haired con man.
Maybe, if he was lucky, he could persuade Dutch to abandon that boat job he’d gotten in his mind.
Arthur chuckled to himself. There was nothing that could possibly go wrong with the information he’d gathered. If everything went well, the score they could have on their hands would set everybody up nice enough to back out West.
He carried on, taking time to enjoy the passing scenery. Behind him, the river roared. It spit foaming white rapids and whirling eddies between the jagged rocks protruding from the riverbed. Day by day the icy current rose as warmth crept into the high elevations. Boadicea had hesitated at the crossing— tossing her head when Arthur’s gentle coaxing finally made her step into the water.
She stepped high across the entire crossing until finally they reached the other side. They continued up the road that wound back up the rise and Arthur let out a contented sigh when sunlight peeking through the broad leafed trees would kiss his cheeks. Leaves rustled in the wind and songbirds still sang their happy little tunes. The near deafening roar of the river became one with the breeze and fell into the background. A horse squealed from somewhere up the road unseen, followed immediately by a startled scream.
Arthur’s hand flew to the six-shooter on his hip and his fingers wrapped around the rose wood handle. His eyes narrowed and he scanned the road ahead. They flicked over to the tree line as he slowly lifted his revolver from its holster.
There was another sharp cry.
The hammer cocked back on his gun.
Hooves thundered towards him and Arthur readied his gun. Moments later, a buckskin mustang tore around the bend. It barreled towards him, ears pinned back, whites around its irises and foam around its dark lips.
“Whoa there!” he exclaimed, pulling Boadicea’s reins as she tossed her head and snorted. “You’re fine girl.”
Boadicea turned in place and bucking her head back as he attempted to calm her. She huffed and let out short notes of dissatisfaction. Arthur turned to check on that mustang, then turned back when a frustrated shout captured his attention.
A woman ran towards him in the direction that mustang had gone. Her frilly skirts billowed around her in a mess of fabric and she held them up as to not fall. A pair of shiny, now dirt splattered kitten heels nearly stuck in the soft dirt of the road. Arthur raised a brow when the woman stumbled. She threw her hands out and caught herself with outstretched palms. When she rose again, her cheeks were flushed deep red and she wore a scowl.
He couldn’t find it in him to hold back a chuckle— even if it was at her expense.
“Oh god dammit! Damn you, Bear!” you shouted as you rounded the bend. One of your heels stuck into the dirt and you gasped as the ground rose to meet you. Anger prickled hot on your neck and your palms stung. You curled your upper lip and wiped off the dirt and pine needles onto your dress. “You damn beast! There ain’t nothin’ out here to spook you like that!”
He chuckled again and smiled so wide it reached his eyes. Such a foul mouth for a woman stuffed into such a proper dress. Boadicea stamped her foot and blew out a frustrated breath.
Your head swiveled to the noise. Just on the edge of the path sat a man atop a chestnut horse. He eyed you curiously from behind the brim of a well-loved black gambler hat.
“Oh dear Lord! You nearly gave me a fright, Mister!” you exclaimed as white hot embarrassment coursed through your veins. You squared your shoulders and forced yourself to meet his baby blue eyes. “You- you didn’t happen to see a buckskin mustang, did you? He’s about fifteen hands or so.”
“Sure,” Arthur drawled the molasses coated syllable, eyes glinting with amusement as you tried, then failed to regain your composure. “He went that way.” He gestured with a tip of his head down the path.
You nodded and looked down the path. The sun shone overhead and you squinted against it and managed to spot a swishing black tail. “Thank you mister.” You offered him a smile before gathering your skirts again. They bunched around in your hands and you huffed when your toe nearly caught on one of the ridiculously frilly ends.
A curse hissed under your breath and you kicked at the skirts before making your way down the path. Arthur watched you struggle and the amusement faded from his face the longer you fought your attire. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, then pulled at Boadicea’s reins to turn her. Boadicea trotted up as you huffed again and fussed with your skirts. “You need any help fetching him, miss?”
At his question you turned and furrowed your brows as if he’d asked a question in another language. Arthur rubbed the back of his neck as he reconsidered his offer.
“Would you?” you asked.
“Sure.”
“By all means then mister, please, try and reign in that ornery basta- beast.” You motioned towards the direction he’d pointed to, then looked back to Arthur. He chuckled and nodded while a lopsided grin spread across his lips.
“Stay right there miss, I’ll bring you back your horse.” He tipped his hat before saying a quiet word to his horse. She blew out a breath before kicking up dirt and trotted in Bear’s direction.
A minute passed and you sat down in the lush grass. Your skirts pooled around you and you pulled at the blades of grass and picked the white clover flowers.
A second minute passed and you looked in the direction the stranger had gone. There were only trees where you had last seen Bear’s swishing ebony tail. You heaved a sigh and tucked your chin against your knees. “What rotten luck…” you muttered. “Trusting a stranger like that.”
Arthur had gone towards your mustang that stood amongst a a small grouping of spruce and fir. Sunlight dyed his coat gold as he snacked contentedly on a patch of clovers. As Arthur approached, the horse rose his head and turned his ears towards him and Boadicea.
“Hey boy,” Arthur said low and smooth. “You enjoyin’ that clover there?”
The mustang regarded him with caution, stamping a foot and tracking Arthur’s every movement. After a moment, he shook his black mane. Slowly, Arthur put his hand out and with the other, reached for the lasso strapped on Boadicea’s saddle. The mustang pinned its ears back.
“You’re okay boy, let’s go back nice and easy—“
The horse set eyes on the lasso and bared his teeth. Arthur cursed low. The mustang turned heel and fled further down the hill in a tangle of hooves. “Dammit- Just what I need.”
Again he approached the mustang and instead of pulling out his rope, he took a different approach. Arthur hopped down from Boadicea’s saddle and approached your horse calmly. “Don’t run again,” he cautioned when the mustang pinned its ears back. “I don’t wanna chase you all day, y’hear?”
Bear snorted and stamped a foot again but raised his ears, angling them towards Arthur when he spoke. It was then that Arthur took the reins. Yet the mustang had other plans. He pulled hard and Arthur nearly stumbled. Both of his hands grasped the leather reins as he skidded along the grass a few feet.
“Whoa now!” Arthur exclaimed, gripping onto the reins as the mustang kicked and jumped. “Stop it now goddammit!” He pulled tighter on the reins and Bear whinnied. His golden sides heaved but after his minute tantrum, he lowered his head. His dark eyes looked right into Arthur’s— not admitting defeat, but merely allowing himself to be led by the man.
Arthur swallowed at the defiance in the mustang’s eyes. “Are you goin’ t’ come nice? Your lady’s waitin’ for you back there.”
Bear’s nostrils flared as he heaved a sigh. Arthur nodded and began to lead the mustang back up the hill. “Now why’d you go buckin’ her like that? Ain’t very nice of you,” Arthur chided, then whistled low for Boadicea.
“How’d you end up with a saddle on your back anyhow?” Arthur asked Bear.
Bear huffed and shook his mane.
“You don’t know either? Must’ve been an unlucky day for you then,” he replied. Of course, the mustang said nothing but blinked as if he understood the words spoken to him. Arthur chuckled low, then said, “you got spirit. Far too much of it for that lady a’ yours… or maybe just enough, hell if I know.”
You huffed, still sitting in that same spot you’d chosen, waiting for the stranger to come back with Bear— if he ever did. Several minutes passed and a sinking feeling settled in your gut.
“If I ain’t the dumbest, most foolish woman in the world…” your words trailed off when you heard the muted clink of spurs and hoof steps on grass. You leapt up to your feet and smoothed your dress down as Bear’s head came over the rise, followed by that worn black gambler hat.
“You be good to her, y’hear?” Arthur said to Bear, who nickered in response. “World ain’t too scary you need t’ go ‘n buck her like that again.”
The stranger’s attention was turned to Bear, whose head was lowered as if in penance as he walked beside the man. You swallowed down a tightness in your throat when he scolded Bear. When they stepped back onto the path, he turned his attention from Bear onto you, looking at you from behind the brim of his hat.
“Got your horse,” he said, coming to stop just a couple feet away from you. He offered you Bear’s reins and you took them greedily.
“Oh thank you mister! I was beginning to think I might be stranded out here,” you replied. Something flashed across his face which sent a prickling embarrassment across your shoulders. You pushed it aside and straightened. “He ain’t ever run off in that manner before.”
“Ain’t no thing,” Arthur said with a nod, then removed his hat. “How’d you manage to come across such an ill tempered beast anyhow?”
Bear snorted when you tugged on his reins, but crossed the path and stood beside you. You looked to your horse, then back to the man. “My daddy,” you started, “he bought him at an auction a year or so ago. Said he thought Bear would be loyal and fearless! A great companion for me. Well— he ain’t ever broke or trained his own horse before. Left all the hard work to me I suppose.”
Arthur laughed softly, his blue eyes shimmering as they caught on the sunlight. “Ain’t never trained a horse ‘n he decided a wild mustang would be the best place to start? How old is he anyways?”
“Fifty-six.”
Arthur’s shoulder shook and he laughed louder that time. “You’re tellin’ me that horse of yours is fifty-six?”
“Oh!” Warmth rose in your cheeks when he so blatantly poked fun at your misunderstanding. You squared your shoulders and rose your chin. “No, mister. Bear is just over four.”
The smile left Arthur’s face and he eyed your change in demeanor. After a moment of tense silence, he replaced his hat and took Boadicea’s reins in hand. “Apologies ma’am, didn’t mean no offense.”
Bear blew out a breath that ruffled your hair and the black bonnet atop your head. He chewed his bit but laid his ears and pawed the ground. You glanced between Bear and the stranger and offered him a small, polite smile. “Well, apology accepted. I appreciate you gettin’ my horse back for me. I should get back headin’ home.”
“Sure,” Arthur replied.
You nodded, then looked to Bear, who eyed you with a certain impatience. There was still a ways to go and if you were lucky, you’d make it back home just before sunset.
With nothing more to say, Arthur pulled himself into the saddle. Before he could get Boadicea going, a frustrated noise from the other side of the mustang grabbed his attention again. You pulled yourself into the saddle but your dress snagged on the buckles and stirrups.
His saddle creaked as he hopped down and made his way around Bear. “You need some help?”
“No no— I’ve troubled you enough. I can handle this— Oh confound it all!” You managed to get pull your dress free and pulled yourself up. Your leg swung but hung on the saddle and you dangled, gripping the horn in one hand and the back of the saddle in the other. Bear let out a squeak and turned while tossing his head. “Bear! Bear stop! Shit!”
Your hand started to slip from the cantle and you cussed again as you swung around as Bear circled.
“Whoa now,” Arthur said softly and grabbed your horse’s reins to steady him. Bear snorted and reared his head back but Arthur held tight to the reins. There was no way he would let the irate beast win— not if he could help it. He grit his teeth and tugged back against Bear with all of his strength. “Calm down boy!”
Bear squealed but complied. His movement stilled and Arthur let out a sigh. That relief was short lived when he saw your hands slipping from the saddle. He released Bear’s reins and braced his hands on your back. “I got you.”
Fully supported, you let your body relax and released the saddle. He helped right you and when you were back on solid ground, he looked you over with a discerning eye, then looked to Bear. A hand covered his chin. “You sure you don’t want help?”
“Well… perhaps it wouldn’t hurt,” you replied, fidgeting beneath his gaze.
Arthur nodded, then knelt down on one knee. The other, he propped up,, then cupped his hands together to make a step to help boost you up. Without a word, you stepped onto his hands and when you grabbed the saddle, he boosted you up. Your skirts fluttered about and Arthur averted his gaze when you kicked your leg over the saddle. “Goddamn-arnit!” You exclaimed. “It’s stuck in the buckles!”
“Here,” Arthur said and locked his gaze on the fabric caught in the tack. It was really tangled in it and he frowned when he tugged the fabric close to its breaking point. “How’d you manage to get this so caught?”
“I don’t know.” You sighed. “Tear it if you need to.”
“Alright…” Arthur worked at the material and winced when the thread stitching snapped. A moment later, he had freed your garment from the grips of the saddle with only a small, patchable tear in it. “There. Ain’t torn too bad.”
Arthur patted Bear’s neck as he walked around the ornery mustang and over to Boadicea.
“Thank you mister. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here t’ help,” you said and reached into the small purse at your side. After a moment, you pulled out a couple paper dollars and held them out to Arthur, who stepped down from his stirrup. “Here, for your trouble.”
Arthur’s eyes widened and a small smile came across his lips as he took the cash. “Thank you ma’am.” He pocketed the cash and pulled himself into Boadicea’s saddle. For a moment, he sat, then asked, “Will you be safe to wherever you’re heading? He won’t bolt anymore, will he?”
You nodded. “I should be fine. Strawberry ain’t too far from here— only a couple hours more and I’ll be home.”
“Strawberry?”
“Yessir, heading back from Blackwater.”
A frown tugged his features down with concern. That explained the dress that fit you the way that bridle fit your horse. “Visiting family? You’re a long ways outta the way.”
“Can you fault a gal for taking the scenic route?”
“No, I guess not.”
You stuck your chin up, looking down your nose at him, with pursed lips. Arthur snorted at your haughty behavior and shook his head slightly. He went to spur Boadicea to get her going, but you cleared your throat. He looked back over at you and your flushed cheeks. You averted your eyes and seemingly turning over what to say in your mind. He waited, hoping you might offer more than just a couple dollars for his trouble.
“Thank you again,” you said. “I wish I could offer more, but I ain’t got much more t’ offer… but— if you ever find yourself in Strawberry, please visit the general store and get whatever you need on my tab.”
“Okay… I appreciate it, miss…?”
“Ellison. And you are?”
“Callahan, Arthur Callahan.”
You nodded. “Well, Mr. Callahan, you have my gratitude. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Sure,” he replied, tipping his hat as you clicked your tongue. Your mustang stamped his foot and blew out a breath before he took a step. “Don’t let that mustang get the better of you again Miss Ellison.”
If you heard him, you didn’t acknowledge it. You just kept walking and his gaze followed you and your frilly dress atop that irritable mustang. Regardless, Arthur was able to take in the accessories you wore— the simple, yet valuable necklace around her slender neck, the unblemished and embroidered leather saddle, and that dress… he’d have to ask one of the girls if it was worth anything.