Unbound

Chapter 19

One week.

One week had passed since Beth was, to some degree, indoctrinated into the camp. Granted, she was still treated with hostility, but Dutch had played her advocate and insisted she be treated with some form of respect.

As such, her time was spent fulfilling odd jobs around camp; tending to the horses, chopping firewood, keeping the fires lit, etc. At points she even did jobs for the others, including Arthur. That seemed to be a given, didn't it?

They had spoken a little about her being an O'Driscoll, but Arthur didn't seem to want to dwell on it too much. He was much more happy admiring her features, her body, her personality and endearing ways like the awkward, unsure man he was.

Her horse had been revealed to be saved thanks to Arthur. Her weapons were taken, hidden away where she wouldn't get to them, but she did get what else was in her saddlebags, so that wasn't too bad she supposed.

Herself and Arthur had gone out for a ride, something to pass the time. They had masqueraded the ride as a supply run or scouting mission or something similar.

"-and she gave me the most dumbfounded, absentminded look!" Beth announced with a laugh, earning a laugh from Arthur, too, who could relate a little too closely with that story.

He gave himself a minute to calm down, smile wide across his lips, amusement gleeming in his eye, "You truly are a wonder to behold."

Her gaze averted, blush light, a dust across her cheeks as she shifted, "I, well, I don't-"

He waited patiently, watching her with pride at how quickly she became flustered.

"Can we stop here? My side is starting to cramp a little."

"Of course."

They brought their horses to a halt and dismounted, having this time to stretch.

"I'm thinking we could have a game of five finger fillet when we get back? Or sit by the campfire together?" A pause as she swallowed thickly, "I mean, if not that's fine. Just a thought."

"If I ain't called for nothin', I'll happily accompany you, my fair lady." Arthur eased her clear struggle, smiling to himself, hands resting on his belt as he watched her turn to dig into her saddlebags for something.

Then, the sudden feeling of coldness against his head, hard and rigid, accompanied by a low voice, "Hands up, cowboy, nice and slow."

His eyes flickered to Beth, who was still, the flash of silver at her head, and then he raised his hands. The feeling of his holsters moving made his brows furrow, and then the sight of his guns on the floor in front of him made his eyes squint further.

"Oh my God." Came Beth's voice, loud and alarming.

Arthur felt the urge to turn and look, but as he did, the barrel of the weapon against his head was pushed further, digging into his scalp. He halted.

"Is that you?"

The man who was aiming at Arthur seemed to falter, "Oi! Ma'am, keep your-- Beth?"

The gun left Arthur's head, and he was able to turn now. He watched as his attacker stepped towards Beth, pulling his grey and black scarf down, exposing his beard. There was something familiar about his beard, hair, and hat, but Arthur couldn't quite place it.

"No fucking-- Robert?"

It clicked like a clock, and Arthur suddenly felt angered. Or perhaps annoyed was the term here.

"Oh my God," Robert walked over and engulfed Beth into a warm hug, "It's you! Bloody hell, you bitch!"

She returned the gesture, pulling away after a few moments to gaze up at him. She took in his beard, his piercing dark brown eyes and, when he removed his hat to place at his chest, his neatly kept dark brown hair. A strand framed his face, falling across his forehead, curling slightly.