Jack Marston is at a low point in his life. His family is dead, Beecher's Hope is in ruins, and he has nothing left to live for. Most days he spends so drunk he can barely remember anything, he kills and robs people at will, and there isn't an ounce...
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"Whatcha up to?" Uncle Arthur asked.
Jack hadn't even noticed he was there until then, having been so lost in his own thoughts as he poked at the dirt with a stick. He'd been looking for small bugs and worms because he liked to look at them and study the way with which they moved and how different they looked from humans. Nature fascinated Jack, and it was about the only thing in abundance as far as entertainment way out here.
"Playing," Jack replied calmly, continuing to poke at a beetle with his stick.
"Anything fun?" Uncle Arthur asked.
Jack paused. Clearly there was something Uncle Arthur wanted to talk about. He set down his stick and sat back, curious about what Arthur had to say, but a bit annoyed he had to stop playing at the same time. "I guess," he said at last.
But Uncle Arthur only smiled and shrugged. "You want to come fishing with me?"
"Fishing?" Jack questioned, raising an eyebrow.
He'd never been fishing before. Once he'd heard Momma and Pa arguing about taking Jack fishing, but Pa had adamantly refused, citing work he had to do for Uncle Dutch. That was as close as Jack had ever been, and he wasn't sure if he'd like it or not. He'd heard Bill complaining before about how awful it was, but Uncle Arthur seemed to go quite frequently, as did Javier and Uncle Hosea. It sounded interesting enough, but Jack was still a bit apprehensive.
Seeming to detect the reluctance in his little voice, Arthur's grin widened. "Sure!" he exclaimed proudly. "You're... It's about time you started to earn your keep."
"Okay," said Jack quietly. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice, and all things considered, there were worse things to be doing. He hated sitting around camp listening to the adults bicker and argue and drink and moan.
"Good," said Arthur. "Let's go get your pole then. You do have a fishin' pole, don't you?"
He did, although it had never been used. It had been a gift he'd received for his fifth birthday not too long ago. "I sure do!" he exclaimed proudly. "Uncle Hosea made me one!"
Sensing Jack's increasing excitement, Uncle Arthur's grin widened even further into an infectious, toothy smile. "Good!" he exclaimed. "Let's go get your pole then. Go catch us some fish!"
"Yeah!" Jack exclaimed back, whipped up into a ball of excitement by Arthur's infectious mood.
They walked to Arthur's horse together, and Jack retrieved his tiny fishing rod while Arthur mounted up. He took Jack's pole and stored it on his saddle before extending his hand to lift Jack up in front of him. Then, they started for the Dakota River with Arthur's strong arm wrapped protectively around Jack's torso while his free hand grasped the horse's reins.
In years to come, Jack would not remember what exactly they'd talked about on the way down to that river, but he remembered feeling safe with Uncle Arthur, and completely confident that nothing could ever hurt him as long as Arthur was around.
