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“I don’t want to hear it, Hosea.”
The words leave your mouth before the older gentleman has a chance to even fully seat himself, and besides the brief pause in his movements when he hears your statement, Hosea makes no further indication that he really cares about whether or not you wanted to have this conversation.
It was going to happen, and you knew it the moment you caught sight of him approaching your isolated figure seated next to the dying fire—however the irrational side of your brain had urged you to keep resisting.
“It ain’t really your business,” You try again, arms coming up to cross over your chest in a defiant manner as you take in the sight of him settling down within the wooden chair on the opposite side of the fire.
Unbothered, Hosea turns his thoughtful gaze upward towards the moon looming over the two of you—and the rest of the sleeping camp—though only for a few seconds. You know he’s contemplating the best way to respond, the best way to approach you without riling you up and waking up the others; and in the back of your mind you know he’ll be successful. The moment he directs his attention back to your tensed form, your shoulders slump in defeat, a quiet exhale slipping past your lips as the irrational side of your brain finally gives in.
“Well, child,” Hosea starts, and you shoot him a somber glance at the chosen term of endearment, mostly because you were a grown woman, but you know Hosea meant well, so you spare him your half-hearted complaints.
“I reckon that it is very much my business, especially if it’s affecting your work with the gang.” His proclamation is an accusation and an expression of his concern both wrapped in one, and it instantly provokes you to move to the edge of your seat, a rebuttal forming on your tongue as you prepare to disagree.
“It ain’t—!” Hosea holds up a hand to both calm you and silence you, and your weak attempt at defending yourself is suddenly forgotten as you scoot back in your seat while subconsciously trying to control the increasing rate of your heart.
“Although I’m sure it’s been much of a help to Miss Grimshaw, it’s very unlike you to stay cooped up around camp doing chores. That never fit you, and it doesn’t now. You do your best work out there,” He states, extending an arm and pointing nowhere in particular to emphasize his words, and all you can do is watch and listen as a small frown tugs at your lips. “You work better with Arthur .” The mention of your lover’s name has your hands balling into small fists, and you don’t notice it until you feel your nails gently poking against your slightly chilled palms.
Hosea takes notice as well, and gives you a moment to relax before persisting. “I suspected that within a week the two of you would have fixed any issues by now, but it seems I was wrong. I see you’re still avoiding each other. Arthur’s been gone for a few days, when he came back this morning I expected to see you two making up for the time spent apart, yet that wasn’t the case. And I’m not one to pry, my dear, but..” Whatever he intended to say next died on his lips as his concerned eyes searched your face for any answer or reaction.
The fresh tears glossing over your eyes was all he needed to see before he sprung into action.
Grunting as he did so, Hosea pushed himself out of his chair, only to scoot it a bit closer to you in an attempt to give your conversation as much privacy as it could have considering you both currently sat right in the center of the camp.
His movements seem to pull you out of your own head, and you blink rapidly with the intention to hold back the tears that threaten to decorate your face; it works, this time at least. Gracefully, Hosea takes his seat for the second time within those few minutes, his hand instantly coming to your shoulder to provide you with comfort you didn’t know you needed until now.
“It’s alright,” he assures once, a small smile stretching across his face as he rubs your shoulder in a way that seems to be encouraging you to speak up, and so finally, you do.
“I don’t know, Hosea. It might be me,” Truthfully, you don’t think it is, but you say this anyway to downplay some of your anger as you softly bite down on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know if he went and mouthed off to Dutch about what I said last week..” Hesitance is detectable in your voice when it falters as you say your leader’s name. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Hosea, nothing ever does, but he remains quiet; a silent indicator that forces you to keep going.
With a shake of your head, your fists unclench and you flatten your palms to rest against your thighs, a gesture that soothes your nerves a tiny bit. “Usually they tell me what’s goin’ on, sometimes they let me come along, but lately I just been left out and playing catch up, trying to figure out what’s happening and what I can do. Why should I reward him for that? Last week he came back from some robbery that I had no clue about,’cause he didn’t tell me. He just took off with Dutch, Micah, and Bill for days. He did the same thing the week before with Javier and Charles.”
This time it is your eyes that trail towards the dark sky, seeking some sort of solace in the beautiful glow the moon provided as you vaguely recalled the events of the week before. “I sort of snapped at him, told him he shouldn’t be takin’ off like that without letting me know, ‘cause I worry about him so much, Hosea. He apologized, and it should’ve stopped there..” You’re immediately overcome with guilt, the feeling making you shrink into yourself as you absentmindedly pluck a small piece of lint from your pants.
“But then I made a comment about him being too irresponsible to realize Dutch was workin’ him like a damn dog, and since then everything has just been..” Your eyebrows knit together and you frown, head shaking as you fumble to find some sort of word to describe your predicament. You never do truly finish your train of thought.
“That’s the day I’m sure you heard us fightin’ with each other.” Sheepishly you cast a glance over at Hosea, and the amusement floating around in his dark orbs confirms your suspicion. For a moment you wonder if anyone else had overheard your bitter argument with Arthur but the thought doesn’t linger for long. “He told me he’s just goin’ out to make money for the camp so that we can keep movin’, the same old nonsense that I already know.” You huff out, cheeks growing red with frustration as you direct your focus towards the small fire, your eyes boring into the dying embers.
“Arthur says the two of you spoke about this before, sometime when we were stuck up in the mountains.” Hosea mentions, and when you realize that Arthur has been venting to Hosea without your knowledge, a tinge of unease and guilt settles within your stomach though you don’t pay the feeling too much attention. “He said he spoke to you about his role in the gang, and you two had a mutual understanding that he would be needed a lot more.”
Hearing the words come from Hosea had pushed a button, as they had been the same words Arthur tried to throw at you during your fight. “I know that I agreed at first, I was trying to be an understandin’ girlfriend,” Your posture straightens, your tone defensive as your frown deepens. “But experiencin’ it is something else entirely, I didn’t know it would this hard.. and I know that we depend on him a lot, I know. But the other boys in this camp are just as capable! They can’t even get a chance, cause Dutch is always hollerin’ for Arthur! Can’t he ever get a break?” You’re scowling, and although Hosea believes it doesn’t fit your kind features, he lets you continue. “There has to be some middle ground between him being ran around as Dutch’s personal servant boy and being here—”
“With you.”
Hosea finishes your increasingly heated rant, and once the words leave his mouth you’re stuck, feeling conflicted about how selfish they sounded coming from someone else. Arthur pointed it out when you had said them to him, and it wasn’t until now that you could imagine why he thought so. You mentally scramble to prepare yourself for Hosea’s scolding, waiting for him to tell you how it was inconsiderate of you to think of such a thing.
“For you.”
He corrects himself, and you feel your breath catching in your throat as you turn to look at him. A warm smile is stretched across his face, and you have to blink twice to make you’re seeing him correctly in your state of physical and mental exhaustion.
Did he understand?
The thought of someone understanding you made your heart stutter, and the sense of hope building in your chest was strong enough to force tears to the corner of your eyes once again.
Hosea sighs, however it is not one of frustration or annoyance, but rather one of fondness and pure apprehension of your dilemma. “Can I be honest with you, my dear?” He perks up, not speaking further until you signal him to press on with a slight nod of the head as you bring your arm up to wipe your eyes against the soft fabric of your sleeve. “I know what it feels like to be in love with someone and have this type of life get in the way of that.”
His words catch you off guard, and you don’t miss sadness that swims around in his eyes despite the fact it only stayed there for a few seconds. “You and Arthur have more of a chance than I ever did. I have seen my fair share of things worth quarreling over in a relationship, but I don’t think this is one of ‘em. This is childish. You and Arthur are entitled to feel however you feel, but your silences are doing you more harm than help. If you both say the things that you have been saying to me, to each other, well..” Hosea gently pats you on the back once more, before suddenly using his hands to help push himself up to stand. “I think you’ll find that middle ground that you’re fighting so hard for. Perhaps something even better.”
Silence dominates the atmosphere around you two, yet it isn’t uncomfortable. It happens to be the opposite, Hosea’s words oddly providing both clearance and consolation that you haven’t felt for the past week and a half. Mimicking the silver haired man, you take a stand yourself, a humble smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you suddenly move forward and capture Hosea in a hug. An airy chuckle escapes him, and he offers you a few gentle pats on the back while returning your hug.
“Thank you, Hosea.” You murmur quietly to him, only letting him go when you hear his response. “ Go , child. Talk to him.” He presses with a sense of urgency, returning your smile as he bids you a good night.
You don’t look back when you turn away from Hosea, hesitation overcoming your being with every step you take towards your shared tent with Arthur. You’re well aware that he’d be asleep at this hour, however the thought of waking up in the morning and bringing up the topic of your past fight had unnerved you. The sound of leaves crunching under your wary footsteps is deafening in your ears, though it doesn’t seem to stir the others within the tents surrounding you. Exhaling quietly upon arriving at your tent, you relax your shoulders, deciding you would leave all your worrying for the morning hours which were soon to come.
However, the rustling of your tent flap has you freezing in your spot, your footsteps coming to a halt. You stare as the thin cloth is lifted, a fully dressed Arthur emerging and stopping once his eyes settle on your smaller figure. Your eyes lock with his blue ones, and the silence engulfing the two of you is disrupted by the small breeze blowing through air. You knew he could read the confusion on your face, and that he could tell there were questions building up on your tongue, yet you hadn’t had a chance to throw them in his direction as he had been the first to speak up.
“That idiot Sean gave me some information about a cabin he spotted yesterday. Said a couple of fellers got their hands on a lot of valuables they stole. It’s only about three of them.” He murmurs, peeking from beneath the brown hat that sat atop of his head. “They’re on the run too, so. It’s better to catch ‘em at sunrise before they go takin’ off.”
You swallow the small lump forming in your throat, finding it hard to do so as you listened carefully to the details. You almost worry that you can’t speak, your throat burning as you try to contain the conflicting emotions building within you.
He was leaving. Again.
“Are you going alone?” The questions seems strained and forced as it leaves you, and the sound makes Arthur frown as he sighs out. “Yeah, but I won’t be gone for long. It’ll be an easy job.” His attempt to reassure you fails to loosen the tightening of your chest, and all you can do is give a subtle nod of your head.
“Okay. I’ll walk you to your horse.”
You offer him a tight smile, and as you turn to head towards the side of camp, Arthur’s footsteps fall in sync with yours. The walk is silent, your eyes locked onto the dirt beneath your feet as you two walk along. You don’t know whether or not he senses your disappointment—Arthur was a lot smarter than he let on—but if he did, there was nothing he could do to ease it at this point besides staying .
And as you neared the bunch of horses lingering around, including your own, you felt the pressure of Hosea’s words enveloping your being as they swiveled around in your thoughts, engulfing them completely.
Talk to him.
Your footsteps come to a stop as you stand in front of Arthur’s horse, the large mount giving both of you an acknowledging shake of the head upon spotting you. Arthur moves to it’s side to saddle up, his attention completely caught on making sure he had all of the items and weapons he needed.
Talk to him.
This time it’s your own voice in your head pleading you to speak up and say something, and you’re not sure if it’s the fear of another argument or the fear or his rejection that has you feeling paralyzed. In one fluid motion, he’s lifting himself onto the horse. Before any further actions are made by either of you, your voice cuts through the quiet space between you.
“Arthur.”
In your ears, your voice sounds horrid; the timidness laced in your tone, the cracking of it as you struggle to get the two syllables out is an unpleasant sound that catches Arthur’s attention almost immediately. His features soften as he turns toward you, and it takes you a moment to realize that your tears had gotten the better of you and were marking their trail as they fell down your cheeks.
“I know you think it’s selfish of me, and I don’t know what else to do, or how to go about this..” Your voice betrays you as it wavers, reflecting every emotion you felt over the past week. Despite the vulnerability, you stand your ground. “But I don’t think you should take that job, tonight. I think you should stay here. And I think we should just talk, even if means we’ll fight. And even if it takes all night, I think we should fight if it means that we’ll be okay at the end of everything.” Your hands fiddle with each other anxiously, and although the short moment of silence frightens you, you find that Arthur is slipping off of his horse and closing the distance between the two of you in the blink of an eye.
With no hesitation in his movements, his hands come to either side of your face, rough fingers wiping away at the tears that decorated your cheeks. Your body reacts on its own and you don’t give much thought while leaning into the warm touch that you had missed so dearly. With a quiet sniffle, you bury yourself into Arthur’s chest, curling up against him as you feel his strong arms come around you in order to hold you securely.
“We ain’t been talking, and that’s been killin’ me Arthur. I want us to just..” Your blabbering is shushed quietly by Arthur before he places a gentle kiss to your head, effectively silencing your attempt to make sense of your incoherent thoughts.
“Stop crying darlin’, it’s okay. We’re okay.” His chest rumbles as his deep voice soothes the feeling of anxiousness that had been forming in the pit of your stomach, and you exhale quietly as you allow yourself to relax against him. Attentively, his hand rubs small circles across your back, and the motion is enough to calm the two of you. After a short period of time of simply standing with his arms around you, you break the tranquil silence with a quiet exhale, lifting your head and allowing your gaze to meet his own. “I’m sorry,” your shoulders lift a bit only to drop down in a small, subtle motion; and you figure if there’s one thing you should get off your chest tonight, it’s that.
And for the first time in what felt like too long, Arthur smiles at you as he gives a small shake of his head. The simple gesture is enough to ignite a small smile of your own, your heart overfilled with relief as you finally feel that you and Arthur were one step closer to being alright. “I know we might not be seein’ eye to eye on some things, sweetheart, but it’s okay. This talk will do us some good.” His gloved hand finds yours, and you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. It dawns on you that he’s accepting your offer to talk things out, yell them out—whatever you both needed to put this issue to rest once and for all; and you fail to find the words to tell him how grateful you are. And yet, your actions speak volumes for you, your fingers intertwining with his as you give his much larger hand a tight squeeze, a motion that says thank you a thousand times without the use of words. Leaning up, you press a kiss against your cowboy’s lips which he wholeheartedly returns, bliss overcoming both you and Arthur as you share your kisses beneath the comforting glow of the moon.