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“And what are we writing, Mr. Morgan?” Albert asked, seating himself beside the gunslinger beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree.
“Nothin’,” Arthur grunted into his journal.
“No? Your pencil is moving very fast for doing nothing at all. Let me see.”
Just as Albert slid closer to Arthur, and Arthur scooted away.
“No. I ain’t writin’ anythin’, anyways.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I dunno,” Arthur murmured. His pencil moving with long exaggerated strokes that were definitely not English letters. “Just scribblin’.”
“Well if it is only scribbling you won’t mind if I-” Albert snatched the journal out of Arthur’s hands and leapt to his feet.
“Hey now! You give that back!”
Albert dashed around the oak, keeping the wide tree trunk between him and Arthur.
“Why, Mr. Morgan! You were sketching me?” Albert teased, holding a hand over his striped shirt covering his heart. “I am flattered!”
The sketch was far more detailed than the other illustrations Albert had spied within the journal. It captured Albert’s sharp features in a more flattering manner than any photo could display. It was also worth noting that Arthur spent the most attention on Albert’s eyes, accenting his long dark eyelashes and almost imperceptible stars within the light irises. The smile was also new to Albert, or rather he never knew he smiled in such a manner. It was bright, revealing a bit of teeth and framed by laugh lines half-hidden under a thick beard.
Do I truly grin like that?
“C’mon, ya saw it, now give it back to me,” Arthur grumbled, darting around the oak.
Albert was far more spry than he was sensible, and for every lunge Arthur attempted at the book, Albert managed to escape.
“ ‘Today I am spending the afternoon with Albert,’” Albert read aloud.
“Hey! That’s private!” Arthur shouted, and missed Albert again as he gave chase, albeit his chase seemed half-heartedly. The gunslinger had no doubt hunted down bounties far more cunning than a semi-successful nature photographer, but for some reason Albert continued to elude him.
That was all the excuse Albert needed to continue reading the caption beneath the sketch of his likeness.
“ ‘I ain’t seen him in an age though he’s always in my thoughts. People in camp think that I got some new fondness for wolves on account of the photo I have up above my bed. Truth is, I just have it there because Albie took it.’ ”
“Oh, Arthur…” Albert sighed contentedly, “That is so- Wait!” Albert jumped away from Arthur’s grabby hands. “I am not finished, sir!”
Albert made a break for it through the forest to a neighboring oak, not quite as ancient as the previous, but sturdy nonetheless. From the safety behind this tree, he shouted: “ ‘I know an outlaw like me is always runnin’ on borrowed time. As such I think it’s best I don’t hold back anymore when it comes to these visits with Albie. I dunno when I’ll see him again and it’s better he know that I…’”
Albert didn’t finish the sentence. He leaned against the oak tree, staring down at the words and all he could say was: “Oh…”
Arthur leapt into view, slamming his hands against the oak tree on either side of Albert’s head. “Gotcha…” he panted.
When Albert looked up, he had already closed the journal. “Here…I’m sorry I intruded. That wasn’t very kind.”
Arthur straightened and snatched the journal back, shoving it back in his satchel.
“Did ya…read all of it then?”
Arthur’s eyes didn’t meet Albert’s, but Albert starved to be seen.
“I did.”
Arthur tugged at the dark bandana wrapped around his rough neck.
“I ain’t lookin’ for anythin’ from this, alright? I wrote that down and I dunno. I just thought maybe…if you knew…But it was stupid, alright? Can we just let it go?”
“Arthur…Go ahead.”
Arthur ran a hand along his stubbly jawline, something Albert noticed he did when he was nervous. “Go ahead n’ what?”
“Tell me…Tell me what you wanted to say.“
“You already read it,” Arthur said. His voice held a softer edge to his usual gruff tone.
“True, but I want to hear it from you,” Albert replied. His hand reached up and gently batted Arthur’s calloused fingers away so that he and he alone could stroke Arthur’s prickly cheek.
Arthur closed his eyes and leaned into Albert’s soft touch.
There was a time when Albert was ashamed of his tender hands, sheltered and unburdened with the pains of hard manual labor. Yet, in quiet moments like this, Albert realized that maybe it was this softness that someone like Arthur Morgan needed in his life.
“I love you, Albie,” Arthur said quietly. Finally those blue eyes rose up to meet Albert’s longing gaze. “I think I’ve loved you a long time n’ I just never had the courage to say it.”
“I love you too, Arthur.” The words released a dam of emotions within Albert’s chest so suddenly that he exhaled a loud sigh of relief. “I have to admit it feels very good to finally say it, myself. I have been carrying those words around for too long, I believe.”
“Yeah?” Arthur grinned. It was the sort of grin that only an outlaw can muster, boyish with just a hint of mischief. “Well what took ya so long?”
Albert scoffed, his hands finding their way to Arthur’s belt buckle and pulling him playfully towards him. “I just needed it spelled out for me first, I suppose.”
Arthur laughed, tilting his gambler’s hat back before reaching up to move back Albert’s straw hat. “Well, then I guess I’m glad ya took to thievin’ my journal then.”
Albert was not a small man, but he still rose on his tiptoes, so that his lips were comfortably closer to the gunslinger’s.
“May I…say it again, Mr. Morgan?”
“What? Oh, sure. If ya don’t mind me sayin’ back, too.”
“I love you, Arthur Morgan.”
When Arthur smiled, Albert realized that the sketch of his own grin seemed to match the happiness that spread across the gunslinger’s face presently.
And his love for Arthur grew just a bit more.
“I love ya too, Albie.”