NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY: RDR2

29. THE SOLID HUE

"Why make so much of fragmentary blue

In here and there a bird, or butterfly,

Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,

When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?"

— Robert Frost 

It had been five days since that evening at Shady Belle, I had heard nothing from Arthur, no letters and no visits. I supposed I couldn't hold it against him, I hadn't made contact either. I wondered if he had thought about it as much as I had, or if he hadn't thought about it at all. Perhaps he was glad for the silence.

I watched the meat cook over the fire, sizzling and browning on the end of my knife. Cripps was nearly done with the wagon, which meant that until the buyer was lined up I had nothing to do but wait and watch him drink himself into a slumber. I was itching to go back out there, find the adventure that I had grown accustomed to. I thought about heading up to Colter, seeing if I could do some fishing in the freezing waters of Lake Isabella. It was quiet up there, the sun and the sky melting into one vast open space, the mountain tops standing high above all else. They had been there long before us and they would remain there long after we are gone, there was something comforting about that. Knowing that all my problems, all my worries and my fears, mattered not in the grand scale of things. But it was far too cold in Colter, and Aine was far too precious to willingly stand in deep snow for days on end, so I ruled it out.

I'd then considered heading west after the wagon sale to spend a few weeks in the desert. I'd never been but had always heard the stories. I thought the sun might do me some good, I thought the time alone might do me just as much. But the west would remind me of Arthur, it would remind me of the small smile that played on his lips when he spoke of it, the longing in his eyes to return. I knew deep down that no matter which direction I went in; I'd be reminded of him. That left only one direction that held any resolve, I had to go south to the swamps. I had to go and visit him, to try and smooth things over.

I looked over at Cripps, sat opposite me by the fire. He was carving something out of a stick of wood, small knife in hand, lit cigarette dangling from his lip. I shoved the cooked meat into my mouth and grabbed my boots.

"I'm headin' out." I said, mouth still full. He didn't even look up.

"Where to?" he asked, disinterested.

"To speak to Arthur."

"Oh, thank god." he said, finally putting his work down and looking over to me. "Does that mean you'll stop moping?"

I sat up straight, shooting daggers at him. He just gave me a lopsided smile and shrugged, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"I've been working, not moping." I say defensively.

"Oh, you been moping. I been tempted to go down there myself an' find him." he chuckled, returning to his carving. "Oh to be young and lovesick again-"

"Cripps..." I cut him off, warning him not to go further. He just laughed and tossed me the small piece of wood that he had been working on. I caught it swiftly, turning it over to see a small intricate carving of a stag. "What is this?"

"I am a man of many talents, Nora. Now get outta' here and give me some peace." he replied, locking his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. I smirked and shook my head at him, ridiculous old man.

I placed the carving into my satchel carefully and rose from the fire, Cripps began whistling to himself, eager for the my exit. I quickly saddled up Aine and pulled myself up onto her back, setting off towards the swamps. I had no game plan, I wasn't sure at all what I was going to say to him when I saw him. I'd probably apologize profusely and ensure him that it would never reoccur, or stare at my feet and say nothing at all until he asks me to leave. Either would be entirely plausible.