Under the Grit

Die From A Broken Heart

"Son?"

The voice was low, gravelly, carrying the weight of years and a familiarity that filled the room. Two men stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the fading light from outside. The first man, tall and broad, had an air of confidence about him. His dark hair, streaked with silver, was slicked back, and he wore a sharp, tailored coat that looked both timeless and well-worn, as though he had walked through countless years without ever losing his polished edge. His mustache was neatly trimmed, and his eyes, piercing and shrewd, scanned the room, settling on Arthur with a mix of warmth and authority.

Behind him stood another man, shorter and older, but just as commanding in presence. His face was lined with age, his gray hair thinning but combed back with care. A wide-brimmed hat rested in his hand, and he leaned ever so slightly on a cane, though it seemed more out of habit than necessity. His expression was softer, almost fatherly, and his eyes—wise and calculating—moved from Arthur to Evangeline, studying her with a look that suggested he understood more than he let on.

Arthur, still holding Evangeline protectively close, straightened up at the sight of them. He cleared his throat, stepping slightly away from her as he turned to face them.

"Dutch. Hosea," Arthur said, his voice thick with surprise. He didn't let go of Evangeline's hand.

The room suddenly felt too small for the tension that followed them in, their presence commanding attention without a word needing to be spoken. Evangeline glanced between them, feeling the weight of their gaze, and though she didn't know these men, something about their arrival made her feel like she had stepped into something much bigger than herself.

Dutch, she presumed, stepped forward, his eyes flicking briefly to Arthur's hand still holding Evangeline's. "Well now," he said, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, "who's this?"

His tone wasn't harsh or judgmental, but the question held enough weight that Evangeline instantly felt the need to compose herself. She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to make herself look more presentable. Her heart raced, the sudden shift in the room's energy making her even more self-conscious.

Arthur glanced at her, his grip loosening slightly, giving her the space to step away if she needed to. He seemed to sense her discomfort, but before he could answer, Evangeline cleared her throat and spoke up.

"I'm... Evangeline," she said, her voice shaky at first. She straightened her posture, forcing a polite smile. "I'm a friend of Arthur's."

The way the two men looked at her made her feel exposed, like they could see right through her attempt to keep it together. Dutch's smile widened slightly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"A friend, huh?" he said, his voice smooth and knowing, as if he understood there was more to the story.

Hosea, standing just behind him, gave her a kinder, almost sympathetic smile. "Nice to meet you, Evangeline," he said, his voice softer than Dutch's. "You alright, dear?"

Evangeline nodded, though she wasn't sure if she was convincing anyone, least of all herself. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, her words rushed. She could still feel the warmth of Arthur's presence next to her, grounding her in this strange situation. But the weight of everything—her panic, Ben—was heavy on her shoulders, and she wasn't sure how to act around these men who seemed so close to Arthur, yet were strangers to her.

Arthur gave her a reassuring look, but Evangeline couldn't shake the feeling that these two men had walked in on something they weren't supposed to see, and she didn't know how much they understood.

Evangeline shifted uneasily, trying to steady her breathing as Dutch and Hosea looked between her and Arthur. There was something about them—especially Dutch—that made her feel like they were sizing up the situation, assessing her, though they remained polite. She wasn't sure if they could sense the turmoil she had just been through or if they were simply curious about her presence.