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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1883
It was as hot a day as any the day Davey Callander and Henry Claybourne rode into camp. The temperature had to be in the triple digits, and if Arthur looked into the distance, he could see shimmering heat waves across the red rocks of the New Austin desert. Not even the animals moved on days like this one. In fact, the only animals Arthur had seen all day were the buzzards, circling gently overhead like ghostly, black reapers.
There was nothing to be done on days like today, where the blistering air stood so still that not a single leaf moved on the low clumps of sagebrush and creosote that carpeted the desert floor. Arthur lay in the horse stall he shared with Mary and Jamie in the stiflingly hot barn of camp. Mary wasn't there, however. She had gone with Jamie and Annabelle down to Lake Don Julio to fetch water for the parched men and horses, and to cool off a bit from the heat. Arthur wished he could have gone with them as their protection, but Dutch had decreed that Arthur was to remain behind in case something happened at camp. Annabelle had already proven how good she was with a gun and was quite capable of looking after Mary and her brother on her own.
A rapping noise on the rotten wood of the stall gate dragged Arthur from his doze. He'd removed all the clothing from his body except a light pair of undergarments that covered his waist and legs, so the knock startled him. He pulled his quilt over his waist and sat up, pressing his bare feet to the dirt floor. "What?" he asked gruffly.
"Arthur, it's me," said the quiet, soft-spoken voice of Hosea. "Can I come in?"
Still a bit tired, Arthur grunted. "Uh huh."
Hosea pushed back the dangling blanket that hid the front of the makeshift room from the main area of the barn and opened the wooden door with a creak. "Did I catch you at a bad time?" he asked, settling himself into a seated position atop the cot Jamie usually slept on.
"Is there ever a good time?" Arthur growled sarcastically.
"There's no need for the hostility, Arthur. Everyone else is just as uncomfortable as you."
Indeed, Hosea wasn't wearing much clothing either. Just a pair of denim pants held up by a pair of fabric suspenders over his bare chest and shoulders. Come to think of it, Arthur hadn't seen anyone wear a proper shirt in at least a week. Not even Susan Grimshaw or Annabelle, who had taken to wandering around camp dressed in only the breathable, cotton shifts they normally wore beneath their dresses. It wasn't modest, but no one dared be too friendly with Annabelle for fear of Dutch, and Susan was past caring about modesty.
"Sorry," Arthur apologized. "I ain't... I ain't been myself lately, Hosea."
Hosea sighed. "None of us have. The burning of Limpany and Mary showing up changed a lot of things for us. The only one who seems unbothered is Dutch. He reckons we can swindle some of the locals out of their money and then head to cooler climates. Maybe the northern foothills of the Grizzlies, to buy land. Somewhere in North Elizabeth or Montana."
