When We Were Younger

The Bigger Picture

Arthur stood amongst the training men and women, watching their progress with shooting guns.  He had to say, he was pretty impressed with how far along a lot of them were.  He hadn't been training them to shoot much, but Dutch and Hosea had.  And they were the ones who taught Arthur, after all, so it was fitting for them to teach.  Right now, though?  Arthur was just passing time, waiting for everyone to get here for the meeting as he studied the future gunslingers' shots and stances.  There was one man in particular off by himself who wasn't quite getting it right, however, so Arthur ambled on over to him.

The man was actually very young, looking no older than seventeen.  He was holding his rifle like an unsteady leaf in the wind, his arms shaking as he took a wide shot and missed his target completely.  Arthur chuckled at the young blonde man before he went to his side.

"What's your name, kid?" Arthur asked.

The boy jolted a bit and almost dropped his rifle as he looked at the Earl of Moycullen.  "Me name's Finn, m'lord," the boy said.

As he got a good look at the boy, Mr. Morgan rubbed his own chin.  Finn was small, lanky and didn't seem very coordinated.  His eyes were a light grayish hazel and his nose was slightly crooked.  He was pale with freckles and had a homely look to him.  Arthur sighed and bowed his head, thinking for a moment before raising it to meet the lad's gaze.

"You sure you wanna shoot rifles?" Arthur asked curiously.

Finn stuck his chin up, a defiant look in his eyes.  "I wantah fight fer ya, sir, and fer the countess."

Arthur nodded and grasped his belt buckle.  "Not when you're holdin' the gun like that, you ain't."

Finn shut his eyes tightly, taking in a deep breath.  "I ain't got much talent fer shootin', sir, I must agree with yas on that.  But what else can I do?"

Arthur hummed and stroked his chin.  "You got any interest in a trade, Finn?"

Finn lowered the gun and sighed.  "Sort of, but it's...it's embarassing, really."

"Can't be more embarassin' than this," Arthur grumbled, motioning a hand towards Finn's rifle.  "I mean, who the hell's been teachin' ya how to hold the damn thing?"

"Nobody."

Arthur made a very confused face.  "How long you been here, boy?"

"Mm, 'bout a week."

"You been here a week and nobody's been teachin' you...oh for-" Arthur shut his eyes and breathed deeply before looking at Finn.  "Why ain't nobody been teachin' you?"

Finn lowered his head.  "They all think I'm a lost cause..."

Arthur grunted softly before grabbing the rifle from Finn.  "Follow me..." he said before marching off.

Finn scrambled to catch up to Arthur.  "Where are we goin', m'lord?"

"Who was supposed to be teachin' you?" Arthur asked, pointing towards the tents and groups of would-be warriors.  "Point 'em out to me."

Finn walked by Arthur's side, gazing out at the field before pointing at a very tall red head.  "There.  Mr. Doyle.  He's the one."

"The red headed asshole?" Arthur pointed.

"Yes, m'lord."

Arthur nodded and gripped the rifle tighter, being mindful not to break it as he sauntered over to Mr. Doyle.  As some of the men spotted the Earl of Moycullen, they immediately stopped what they were doing and went to a knee, bowing their heads.  Soon, others followed, as did Mr. Doyle when he realized who was behind him.