Chapter Text
There was something in Collette so viscerally against her liking Arthur Morgan. Well, it wasn’t really a something, more like the vivid memory of Tom being held in his rough hands getting the shit knocked out of him, but there was also a something that, once again, wasn’t really a random something, that was warming up to the man. When he wasn’t beating the shit out of terminally ill men he was pretty benign and okay even.
Collette woke up to with the most nasty case of bedhead she’s ever had in her thirty plus years of life. “Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing at her eyes. She quickly hissed as she moved her raw wrists too quick.
“You okay?” Collette turned to Arthur who was crouched by the fire. He was cooking a very fresh looking slab of meat. He was quite possibly the best person she could have escaped with. He knew how to ride a horse, he was actually prepared to camp at a moment’s notice and knew how to start a fire. All things she did not know how to do, but probably should...
Snapping back to the present she looked at the man across from her, “I’m fine, a little sore.” She nodded her head towards the little grill grate, “What’s for breakfast?”
“Some rabbit with a bit of oregano.” He said gruffly, using his knife to hold out a hunk to her.
Not really a fan of finger food but not about to be a priss, she took the proffered meat. “Fancy.” It was disgusting. She hated oregano. It was a hatred passed down through the family line back to great grandma Eunice on her mother’s side. Also she hated gamey meat with a passion, that was more just a her thing with less of a family history. Nevertheless, she wasn’t about to turn her nose up at it. She wasn’t expecting any Michelin stars so she ate it with no complaint, but man did it leave a lot to be desired. God help her she’d even settle for some A1 sauce.
“Here,” she looked back to Arthur who held out a metal cup to her. She had just seen him pour some coffee and take a sip.
She took it with little thought, “Thanks.” It was the purest most blackest of black coffee. It was almost like the first time she took a shot of vodka, her whole body just screamed, I object! “Woah there man, don’t you put sugar or cream in this? Good Lord, damn!” She heard him stifle a laugh.
“Sorry bout that, lemme jus’ pull out a jug of cream from my satchel,” he said dryly.
She grumbled at him a bit. “I guess there’s a reason why I really don’t camp.”
“You from a city or somethin’?”
She heaved a weary sigh, “Yea in a way, I mean it’s not that I don’t like camping. Well I mean sleeping in mud and grossness last night wasn’t so enjoyable, but everything else so far seems pretty okay.” She said looking at the forest around her. This wasn’t so bad for the first time around. Then again Arthur did all the hard stuff while she just watched.
“You all set to head out?” Arthur asked, his voice a little more gravelly than normal.
“Yea, uh, what should I do with the rest of the coffee?” She asked holding out the metal cup to him.
He sniffed, “Just toss it,” he said, taking the mug and dumping out the contents. He then gave it a shake before putting it into his satchel. Collette watched and said a silent prayer that he cleans that thing better than just giving it a few shakes.
Collette joined him by his black huffing beast of a horse, “A little help.”
“You riding with me? You ain’t gonna take yer own horse?” He asked while easily lifting her up into the saddle.
“Just because I have a horse, doesn’t mean I can ride it well.” She said holding onto the knob of the saddle as Arthur swung himself on behind her. “You really don’t know how lucky you are that I got to you and Jack before those other guys.”
He urged his horse forward, while making a sort of clicking noise that prompted Bugs to follow. He kept them at a manageable trot, nothing that had her slipping off the saddle like last night. “How have you survived without knowin’ how ta ride? I thought everyone knew how.”
“Hm, must’ve missed the memo,” she said, leaning forward, enjoying being on a horse with someone that actually knew how to do it. There were no unexpected turns to graze or random accelerations like with Bugs. Arthur was well in control of his horse, hell he was even in control of her horse. They were on a main road now, well worn by carriages and travelers.
“Please...someone show kindness...on a man with no sight,” Collette jerked up in the saddle, trying to find the owner of the voice. She saw a man standing just off the road, hunched, standing bowlegged. Arthur slowed his horse as the man continued to plead, “Help a blind man.”
With little hesitation Arthur swung off his horse and reached into his saddlebags, “Okay, here you are.” He said before she heard the tink of money drop into the man’s cup.
Collette leaned in closer, she remembered the “blind” beggar in Saint Denis, however this man was definitely legitimately blind. The cloudiness of his eyes were telltale of some sort of problem, cataracts? Maybe a corneal disease.
“You’re whole life, sir, you have followed the wrong star.”
Collette gave the man a hard look, that is a bizarre thing to say out of nowhere. She looked to Arthur, expecting the same, if not, an even more confused reaction, instead he only nodded, “Okay, friend.” He then got back on the horse and continued to ride.
Collette leaned to the side, barely noticing Arthur’s arm stiffening to keep her from falling. The old man still stood there on the road, shaking his little cup. “What the hell was that?”
Arthur shrugged, “Jus’ some fella I’ve seen a few times now, gotta say fer a blind fella he gets around.”
“You donate to him often?”
“It’s just a dollar, I got at least that ta spare.” Collette could strangle this man, she really could. He beats the sick, runs with a gang and donates to the blind.
“Of course, and does he always have weird lines like that to spare?” She asked, thinking about what he said. An odd little sentence and yet it sat heavy in her head.
She heard him spit off to the side and fought the shiver of revulsion, America was apparently built on blood, sweat, tears and spit. “Usually,” he sniffed, “mostly. He, uh, said he could see the future, or somethin’. They’re interestin’ enough to listen to, I guess.”
“Such as?”
He took a moment to think, “One time he’d said somethin’ bout what’s killin’ me helping me ta see?” He laughed a bit, “He’s harmless enough and good fer a laugh.”
She hummed thoughtfully and the weird just gets weirder. “Are we almost there?” She was feeling anxious having left her cultures unattended for so long, also Tom, plus Edith was probably wrought with her level headed sort of worry. She really just needed to get back.
“Nearly, you ought ta be careful though, after a stunt like that the town’ll be on high alert.” Arthur advised.
“If you actually took your own advice you wouldn’t be in this mess at all.” She snarked at him.
“It ain’t me makin’ the decisions.” He answered stiffly.
Doesn’t she know it, she’d seen him again, Mr. Dutch Van Der Linde. “Still I told you back at the river you guy’s should’ve cleared out. You still at horseshoe overlook then?”
Arthur made a gruff noise, a bit disgruntled before saying, “Yea.” She waited and after a few beats was rewarded with more incite into Dutch’s stupidity. “I tried tellin’ the others, but Dutch says that they was tryin’ ta scare us into doin’ something stupid.”
“Do you think they was-were trying to scare you?” She could see the sense, scare someone and they make a bad decision, it was a classic tactic, but the river thing wasn’t the Pinkertons trying to scare the gang. What they had done, almost done, that was more like a probe. Just two guys? No, that wasn’t an attack, it was barely a threat. Not to a guy like Arthur, and they had to have known that.
“Well you heard ‘em talkin’ more than me. D’you think that’s what it was?”
She thought for a moment, it’s not like she had given it much thought since it was over and done with. However, now thinking back on it, “No, they were going to make you an offer. They said, your freedom for your leader.” Collette heard Arthur scoff, it was a very telling reaction. “Think about it though Arthur-”
“I ain’t no traitor.” He snarled, his grip on the reigns turning his knuckles white.
That was rather telling too, he looked at it like betrayal taking their deal. He makes a snap decision with no thought to, well, thought, to tactics. Had she been in his position, she’d take the trade. A person generally has more flexibility when they aren’t wanted. She’d get herself safe and then think of a way to save the others, if there were any others that she liked. Hogan and Dutch could rot. Wonder if they’d make Hogan lose his stache in jail?
“You’re such a nitwit,” she rolled her eyes, “that’s not what I’m talking about. Think about it,” she said thoughtfully. Collette leant forward in the saddle, her elbows balanced on the knob her hands laced and supporting her head. “They know Dutch.”
“Tch, you’re crazy.” He said with a laugh.
“No, I don’t think I am.” They knew Dutch, they knew how he thought. If psychological profiles existed they certainly had one for him. “How much organization do you think it took for that ambush yesterday? That was some man power, missives, telegraphs, letters all sent out to organize what we just saw.”
“Yea, probably.” He agreed.
“And how long ago was that almost meeting at the river?” She prodded. What’s the point of a brain if you don’t friggin’ use it?
“Three days...wait...” And there it was dawning on him.
“Three days isn’t enough to put that whole show together. They knew, and were waiting.” She said, spelling it out for him. “Had that meeting happened, had they thought they’d ‘scared you into doing something stupid’ like leaving. Then why were they waiting for you, with Leviticus fucking Cornwall himself, so sure you’d show up?” Her riding companion was silent. She left it at that, if anything the man needed a lesson in thinking for himself. “Stop here, I don’t think the Downes will really want to see you.” She said, more a reminder to herself than him. She was trying to help an unrepentant criminal see sense. An unrepentant criminal that has self esteem issues and donates to the blind...ugh!
He did as she asked, then helped her off the horse without a word. Just before she turned and walked away, a hand grabbed her shoulder causing her to look back. “I don’t-do you...” It was almost painful watching the man struggle for words before clenching his brows with resolve. “Dutch has gotten us outta worse situations.”
She looked him right in the face, deadly serious. “Then I hope for Jack-” she laughed to mockingly to herself, at herself, “and, hell, even your sake that you’re right.” Rather than shaking off his hand she dug her nails into it, holding it and his attention. “Because this isn’t the time for that unthinking loyalty you seem to do so well Arthur, really look at the man leading you,” she said tightening her grip on him. “I don’t know him like you do, but-”
“No, you don’t.” He said with a tone of finality.
She squeezes his hand harder, really let her blunt nails bite into him before jerking out of his grip. “Good luck Arthur, I really hope you don’t need it.” She said striding away from him. He mumbled something too quiet for her to hear, and she was also just too annoyed to listen. She wondered if she should reiterate her point, to just remind him she’d be willing to take Jack, but that seemed pointless. Not because he was too angry at her to do it, but because she trusted that he knew the offer still stood, and will remain standing.
Now, she had a long walk to get to the ranch. Really wish I had my watch, “Start channeling, whatever will remains, discern what’s fiction and what is true...”