Cause and Effect

Chapter 3

tacenda [ta-sen-da]

(n). things better passed unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence

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Arthur Morgan was a quiet man, gruff around the edges, but with a heart of gold. He'd lived in Valentine more years than not, and he had a unique ability to search out the most obscure spots, hiking up the peaks to spend a night or two among the stars and firs. 

He turned up in Valentine all those years ago, a shadow behind the rancher Hosea Matthews, daring the world to try him again, to take this one good thing out of his clenched hands. Hosea had taken him under his wing, teaching him ranchin' work, and how to be human again, and when people thought of Hosea they thought of Arthur. 

He split his days between Hosea's ranch, and Dutch's car shop, working a few shifts a week, before rushing back to check on the horses they were breaking in back at the Matthews ranch. He'd taken up the position of foreman when Dutch had started the car shop about ten years ago because god knew Dutch knew shit about engines and Arthur hadn't really left since then.  

Dutch. That was another factor in his life. One of Hosea's oldest friends and Arthur's too, he'd stay over several nights, a glass of bourbon in one hand, the other flying through the smoke-filled air as he rambled on about the flaws of capitalism. So yeah, it was ironic that the man opened his own business a few years after Arthur turned eighteen. 

VDL's Car Shop was a pretty special place to him. He'd worked there since he'd graduated high school, that graduating class was only a few people and he wasn't top of the class, but Hosea was proud of him for graduating and he started at VDL's soon after. Dutch knew him, and trusted him enough to move him up to look after the starting technicians on the ground floor, and then to look after the books soon after that, and Arthur felt secure enough to feel established as a working man. 

They didn't hire too much, keeping who they hired pretty close to the vest, preferring referrals more than off the street, so when Arthur heard about this John Marston who he never heard about before in his own circle, let alone in the whole town of Valentine, he was slightly nervous. They didn't trust easy, Hosea and Dutch, and because of that, he didn't either. 

"Who is he?" He was leaning up against a wooden door jam, thumbs stuck in his belt loops, staring into the flames. "New hire, I mean."

Dutch was over, and he glanced over, pausing in the middle of pouring the three of them some drinks. "Who? Marston?" He shrugged. "Charles called me up 'bout it, told me that Tilly said something 'bout it."

Arthur nodded, accepting an offered glass with a nod of thanks. "What should I expect wit' 'im."

Dutch settled down in a chair. "I've got his background if you want to look at it, he's messy that one." He laughed drily, and Arthur stared at him. 

"You ain't the one there Dutch, I gotta look out for him." 

"I think he'll be fine." Dutch placed the other glass down on a little carven side table, Hosea's favorite table. "I don't do things without purpose, son. You know that."

"So what's the purpose?" He settled down. "I ain't really seein' one from where I'm at."

"He's runnin', he's not going to do something rash when he himself, is wanted for more than what's on those background papers. It's not worth it to mess up something this good for a few bucks."

"Lotta faith in him Dutch." Arthur took a sip. "Coulda jus' not of hired him."

"We need men right now, and you know Javier needs less time there, and more time over here. If he can pick up those hours, we can start finally moving. It'll start coming together son, just trust me."