Arthur Morgan did not intend to survive when he gave his hat to John Marston and stayed behind to gain his redemption. As he crawled towards his final resting place, he never intended to wake up again.
But he does wake up. Thanks to time travelers F...
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"Ouch!" Arthur cried, pulling his fingers back quickly, shaking them vigorously to try and dull the pain. "Son of a bitch."
The pony in front of him snorted, shaking his head peevishly. The bit Arthur had been trying to put in his mouth fell to the dirt along with the rest of the bridle.
"Shaggy, no!" Jamie scolded, glaring at the pony with his hands on his hips. "I'm sorry he tried to bite you, Arthur. He ain't used to anyone besides me or Mary yet."
"Isn't," Mary corrected from Arthur's left. She'd been watching Arthur saddle the pony as she sat in front of a wash tub, doing laundry. "The correct way to say that is, 'He isn't used to anyone.'"
"But that's how Arthur talks!" Jamie protested, picking the bridle up from the ground and handing it to Arthur, who was grinning in amusement. "I wanna be a lawman like Arthur when I grow up," he declared.
Arthur snorted. "A lawman, kid? Is that what you think I do?" He took the bridle from Jamie and pushed it into Shaggy's mouth, being careful this time to stay away from the Shetland's quick, little teeth.
"Sure!" Jamie replied as Arthur buckled the chin strap to keep the headstall from the bridle from slipping off the pony. "You carry a gun all the time and you save people from bad men. What else would you be?"
Arthur's eyes met Mary's. They grinned in amusement at each other, both appreciating the irony in Jamie's words. Shaking her head cheerfully, Mary drew one of Arthur's shirts out of the water and began rubbing it against the washboard, with a little soap to help take the dirt out. A bead of sweat dripped from her brow.
Arthur decided not to correct Jamie. It was better that the kid did not know everything about the life he led. It was kinder and gentler that way. He remembered what it was like to lose his innocence at such a young age, and he'd do anything to prevent that from happening to this sweet, pure soul.
"I ain't sure, kid," Arthur said at last, checking Shaggy's girth. "Ready for a riding lesson?"
"Yeah!" Jamie exclaimed. "Ezra and Joshua tried to give me a few lessons, but I don't think Shaggy liked them very much."
"Sure," Arthur agreed, looking beyond Jamie to Boadicea, who stood already saddled, tied to the ramshackle fence of the abandoned ranch the gang was currently living at.
Arthur liked this place. There was a small, one-room house for Dutch and Annabelle, and a large barn with several horse stalls in it that had been divided into individual rooms for sleeping using the large pieces of cloth the gang usually used as tents. Arthur wasn't used to having a real roof over his head, not that they needed it in this desolate desert. It simply did not rain often enough. As it was, one or two members of the gang were already forced to take a wagon laden with barrels several miles to Lake Don Julio twice a day to draw water for the camp and for the horses.
