Arthur's eyes wonder over the new group of men in camp, taking in their actions and mannerisms. But each time he'd find his eyes lingering on the big brute of a man by the name of Eli Samson. Arthur never liked the guy, from the moment they first laid eyes on him back in Bingham. Likes him even less now as he watches the absolute disgust that comes over the fat man's face as Hosea and Dutch approach him. Opening his mouth to speak no doubt utter nonsense before Hosea cuts him off right quick.
"I don't want to hear whatever poor excuse you've conjured in that melon of yours, what you're gonna do is sit and listen." The old man's voice is stern and quick like a whip. Pausing to hold Samson's gaze with a serious fire in his eyes.
Dutch speaks next with a rumble in his chest. "You were warned once before Mr. Samson. And I am not a man who enjoys repeating himself."
"Leave. The women. Alone."
The three men simply stared each other down before Samson finally relented, eyes breaking contact and nodding his head with a small pathetic "Yes sir...".
"I don't like him..." Arthur mutters.
"Who?" John asks.
"Samson. I don't like him"
"Think he'll be a problem?" John's eyes fall to the man in question now sitting all alone in the dirt attempting to pomade his hair into place. Face all red. A single stubborn strand of hair refusing to fall in line. Arthur watches him carefully.
"He's a man with too much pride, definitely trouble." Arthur turns to John, "He look much like a miner to you?"
"He looks like a wannabe rich man. Dresses like a banker." John scoffs. The two watch, a moment of quiet before John speaks again. "And uh...the new girl?"
Arthur groans, "I've caught more than an eyeful of her and the red head indulging themselves more than once. Not sure they considered the lack of privacy the life of an outlaw would entail."
"No not-I wasn't talking about her." Arthur turns to meet John's dark eyes, cigarette dangling from his fingertips as he watches John's mannerisms.
"The stowaway?" Arthur smirks, "She ain't exactly new now is she? Been with us some months." He sucks in a drag.
"Yeah, so?" John inquires again. Eager to hear Arthur's answer.
"Does it matter?" John just tilts his head with an impatient look. Arthur lets out a sigh, tapping off some ash onto his boots. "I think... She's got a good head on her shoulders." The end of the cig lingers just before his lips. "Got a sort of wisdom about her I wasn't expectin'."
"So you like her?"
Arthur's face scrunches, "I hardly know the woman." He then teasingly nudges John's knee with his boot, "But we all know what you think of her."
John's face frowns as his face instantly turns crimson red, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't play dumb. You live the part just fine." Arthur puffs out a billow of smoke, "Usually I'd let you stumble and fall flat on your face when it comes to your women troubles." Arthur pauses, eyes fixated on John's, "But leave this one alone." He flicks his cigarette stub at John's shirt leaving a splash of ash.
"And why should I take lady advice from you of all people?" John wiped at his shirt aggressively.
"Do or don't. Just know if you do, it'll save you a kick in the balls."
YOU ARE READING
Fates of the Fateless
RomantizmBrowsing the many articles and advertisements that described an incredibly dated way of life. And as much as you tried to convince yourself of all the excuses to explain your twisted journey up to this point. The number 1891 burned in your mind with...
