Birds of a Feather

Arthur

Arthur needed some space from Dutch before he put his foot in his mouth and said something stupid. After that whole trolley fiasco, Dutch hadn't been too appreciative of his commentating. When he'd left camp, Dutch had been trying to persuade Hosea over a bank job. In Saint Denis. Why Dutch wanted to pull another job in Saint Denis after Bronte had screwed them Arthur had no idea.

He shook his head. He was understanding Dutch's choices less and less, but every time he spoke his mind about having a bad feeling, he'd get an earful about loyalty. Arthur didn't mean for his opinions to sound like doubting, but he was anxious to get out of the shit they'd gotten in. If this possible bank job was indeed the last one, he couldn't wait for it to be done.

In the meantime, he was taking a ride to Willard's Rest. He enjoyed his visits up here, the few that he'd had. Charlotte was a kind, patient woman, who listened to him without judgment. Sometimes, she made him feel like he was half normal in this world.

As Arthur approached the cabin, he saw it was dark and quiet and that filled him with disappointment. Somehow, he'd missed her. She'd told him on his last visit she'd been taking more hunting trips by herself, but he'd hoped he coulda caught her in-between her traveling.

It was a pointless act, but his feet went up the porch steps anyway. He knocked and waited, hoping to hear her footsteps. Instead of leaving, he kept still. He couldn't explain why, but something felt off. Wrong, somehow.

Before he turned and left, he tried the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't. He frowned. How many damn times had he told her to lock it up? Even if she was home.

There was no telling what kind of outlaw could come snooping up here. Himself, included. Charlotte weren't no fool and she'd listened to every other piece of advice he'd given her. There wouldn't be a reason for her not to listen on this neither.

He trusted his instincts so he opened the door a few inches and peered in. He called quietly, "Charlotte?"

No answer. The house was still. As it would be if she was gone on a hunt, he derided himself. Arthur shook his head. He was being a fool about all of this.

He started to shut the door when he spotted the rifle leaning against the wall. Now that weren't right. If she was on a hunt, she'd have taken her gun with.

He pushed the door open all the way and called louder, "Charlotte!"

Not a goddamn thing. He stepped into the house fully, casting a glance around the room. There was a meal on the table, partially eaten. Grim now, he expected the worst if he chose to look further. Did he even want to bother searching the house? Likely, it wouldn't be pretty what he'd find.

Arthur searched anyway, just for answers. Resignation dropped like lead in his heart. He weren't ready to bury another friend. He went straight for the bedroom he knew to be Charlotte's.

When he opened the door, he stopped in shock. Not because of anything gruesome as he'd expected, but that it wasn't. Charlotte was in her bed, sleeping. It was as normal a picture as could be.

Arthur slumped against the door frame in relief. He rubbed his forehead under his hat, a grin starting. Goddamn, that had him more worried than he ought to be.

Arthur's relaxation was short-lived when he got a better look at her. Her face was flushed and sweat gleamed her brow.

Arthur walked up to the bed and rested the back of his hand against her cheek. She was hot to the touch. He weren't no doctor, but something weren't right.

"Charlotte?"

Her brow furrowed deeply and her voice came out hoarse. "Cal?"

He took one of her hands in his. "It's Arthur. Arthur Morgan."

"Arthur..." she repeated faintly. She didn't open her eyes, but fell back into an unconscious state.

Arthur straightened. He pressed his fingers against his eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave her like this. She was in rough shape and he hadn't a guess for how long she'd been like this. For all he knew, she'd be dead by morning.

But he didn't know the first thing about taking care of someone as sick as this. That weren't in his expertise.

He knew what he had to do, but it made his stomach turn to think how Dutch would react bringing an outsider to camp. They had enough heat on them right now after that disaster in Rhodes.

Arthur looked to Charlotte again. He knew for a fact she didn't have no one else way out here. And, hell, she'd do the same for him.

Camp was the only place he knew that were safe. He had to take her to Shady Belle.