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The first shot of whiskey still burns hot in his throat when he orders the second. Arthur doesn’t shoot it right away, he just stares at it, let’s the first settle in his stomach and warm the tips of his fingers. He wonders which will come first, a job opportunity or becoming blackout drunk. Either way he’ll do anything to stop thinking about her. Anything to put his regrets out of his mind. Even if it means being passed out in the dusty bar in the equally dusty town of Tumbleweed or working himself to the bone on some farm, these days he’d even take bleeding out while shooting some bandits square between the eyes.
He’s beginning to think it’ll be the last one when he overhears some talk at the table behind him, just as he’s begun to finger his glass and contemplate just getting drunk anyway. Arthur can’t help but listen in, an old habit he can’t break, hoping for some sort of lead and a hefty payday that’s as honest as a former outlaw can get.
Their story seems intriguing, the bits of it he can make out anyway, their accents, whatever it was, were thick and speech slurred from drink. Something about a local bandit gang that’s been terrorizing anyone between Tumbleweed and Armadillo, the Del Lobos he thinks they’ve said. He hasn’t heard of them yet, not since he’s been back in New Austin, but from what he can hear they’re sitting on some sort of treasure and they’ve got a large bounty, holed up in some fort to the south east. It’s all he needs to hear.
Arthur downs the second shot before placing his payment to the bartender on the counter and walking out of the saloon. It’s not too late to turn around and get drunk instead, have a shot at finding someone else at a later date, he thinks. If he stopped now he still had a chance at a future. He’s not used to freedom, he wasn’t sure if he should throw it away so soon by getting himself killed, but he didn’t feel free as long as she was still out there. And what was freedom to a man with a broken heart.
So Arthur did what Arthur did best. He mounted his horse and spurred him on towards the promise of staring death in the face. He had tried to know something different, to do something other than dive head first into flame, but it never worked and he always ended up hurt in ways he couldn’t heal himself. He was sick of it.
The sun has begun to set by the time he arrives at the fort. Judging by what he can see down the road it’s armed to the teeth with no way in except the front. Guards lined the walls and were stationed at specific points all around. It’d be impossible to sneak inside, he’d have to go in guns blazing. Wagons out front were the only real cover. They’d have to do.
He leaves his horse well away from the site, not wanting to risk the life of the animal that had carried him for the last year or two, that horse was too good to be taken out by a stray bullet, and if things went south he’d need an escape, a dead one would do him no good.
It’s probably foolish but the only long-arm he brings is his Lancaster and whatever extra ammunition he can carry. He’s taken on a lot worse with a lot less and in worse states. A little anger fueled bounty hunting seemed like such a small feat compared to hoards of pinkertons and just a pistol as defense.
Arthur sticks as low to the ground as he can, watching the towers carefully and hoping he wouldn’t be spotted before he can get real cover. The tall dry grass and cacti do their job permitting him to successfully hide without detection. Now that he’s so close the towers don’t seem that close together and neither have the best shot at him from where he hides. He almost laughs when he notices there aren’t people at all in them, just dummies set up so it appears that way. But the one in the middle of the wall is in fact very real, so are the ones guarding the gate, and he’s sure there’s even more on the inside.
The one stationed on top of the wall is the one he shoots first to make his announcement, his hiding spot being a decent advantage and he’s able to get a clean shot, the man soon falls down from the wall and his body comes crashing down to the ground behind the guards at the front gate who immediately start shooting at where he hides. There’s only two and he’s able to put a bullet in each of their chests two quick shots one after the other. It’s brought the attention of their friends inside but given him enough of an advantage he can push up before more can head to the wall.
Once inside and under the safety of the arch, Arthur is lucky to find cover behind a group of barrels which he’s almost too big to hide behind perfectly. He makes do, shooting the ones who have higher ground before making sure to take out any who have gotten too close. His heart skips a beat when a bullet goes whizzing past his head and nicks his hat while he reloads.
He’s foolish to think that there aren’t as many as he thought, they go down quick and he can hear shouting from further in the fort but he’s already cleared the front section. When he stands to assess the damage he’s confused, counting the bodies once, twice, and a third time when it appears there's more than he’s sure he shot. Something has happened here and it’s happened recently judging by the blood that’s just stopped pooling compared to the others.
He doesn’t have time to solve the mystery now, there’s already more of them coming from further back. Acting fast, Arthur bursts through the first door he sees, slinging his gun over his shoulder and hoping he’s caused enough confusion and for them to assume he’s left so he can get the upper hand and take on the rest of them. Through a crack in the door he’s able to peer out, taking the time to breathe and assess just how many of the men were left. Judging by whatever previous masquer had occurred it wasn’t many. Maybe eight or ten men, nothing he couldn’t handle.
He nearly gives himself away by shouting when a voice from behind startles him, “Arthur?” It croaks and coughs and it makes his blood run cold in the worst ways. He presses his back to the door, searching through the darkness to be sure he hadn’t imagined it, “The hell...” it starts followed by another cough, “the hell are you doin’ here?” And the sound is enough for him to finally find the source, slumped in a corner looking smaller than he ever thought possible.
Sadie.
Arthur is by her side immediately, any anger he’s felt in the past weeks forgotten and replaced by the longing and sorrow he’s been trying to bury as he goes to her. “The hell am I doing here? The hell are you doing here?” He asks her, squeezing his eyes open and shut to acclimate them to the dark better so he can look her state over more accurately. She only bats him away whenever he tries.
“Huntin’ a bounty. It didn’t go too good. Obviously.” She scoffs at herself, kicking at the dirt with her heel and then grunting in pain soon after, it made sense to him now why there were bodies outside he hadn’t shot, they were her’s, “I’ll tell you later just help me up.” He knows she’s hurt he just doesn’t know where, still he’s careful as he helps her, putting one of her arms behind his neck and prepared to carry her out but she gets her feet under herself before he can lift her from behind her knees. She even seems fully prepared to separate herself from him but she’s barely a step away before she loses her balance and he has to catch her.
“How many more left?” she asks before he can get a single syllable out to ask if she were okay, gripping onto his coat to steady herself and accepting she’d need his help to get anywhere.
“Ten, maybe twelve at the most,” he replies, hoping for less or that at least she can shoot because he can’t reload and support her at the same time, and he’s only got six bullets in his cattleman, “Still got a gun on you? We can split ‘em. Get out of here quicker.”
She nods, her features briefly catching the light coming through the door and he almost swears he can see dark circles under her eyes.
“On three?” She suggests, pulling her own revolver out of its holster, briefly looking up at him, searching for agreement. He nods before setting his sights on the door before them.
“One,” he says.
“Two,” she adds.
“Three,” they declare in unison as he kicks the door open and the shooting starts again. It’s fast, so fast he barely has time to process everything exactly. He shoots anyone he can with deadly accuracy, not able to miss as he’s not about to let her go so they can split up for cover. It’s enough, there’s only nine men and though he’s run out of bullets Sadie has the pleasure of shooting the very last one before he can put a bullet in Arthur’s head.
And just like that they’ve won the fort.
He’s begun to assess the damage when she frees herself from him, pulling away to perch on a nearby crate which he assists her in doing. “So,” she starts, looking anywhere but at him, “you gonna tell me why you’re here?”
“Other than the action?” Arthur snorts, looking over all the bodies, “Heard something about a treasure or somethin’ like that.”
“It’s fake, meant to lure people in so they can rob them. Heard them talking about all the fools they tricked into believing it. Sorry bastards shoulda killed me when they had the chance.”
Arthur has forgotten how much he’s missed her. Well... he hasn’t, not really, he’s remembered every day since their fight, been angry at himself and drank the days away, tossed himself into danger like he’d just done. Seeing her now made him wonder if she had been doing the same.
“We should start looting them before it gets too dark. Can’t tell who killed who so we’ll just split up the total I guess.” Sadie stands on her own much to his surprise, he’s about to offer his shoulder once more but she walks away from him. It hurts, the distance she puts between them, and it’s worse when she adds, “I can’t stay either, I gotta get to Strawberry before the week is up.” And he knows she doesn’t want him along. He’s foolish to think she had forgiven him so quickly and been reminded of what they had just then when they teamed up.
So Arthur throws himself into the work of picking through the pockets of the men nearest to him. He does everything in his power not to notice she’s just a few feet behind him, so close yet so far away that it’s painful. He doesn’t want to think about it, the guilt and sadness is more bearable if he doesn’t. If he can just focus on emptying the pockets, finding money, finding valuables, anything, then he can get through being so close to her again.
It’s when he hears a thud that he’s torn from his focus. He turns around to try and find her but she’s gone, no, she’s not, she’s laying on the ground among the bodies. “Sadie!” Arthur is by her side again, gently moving her to prop her up against her arm as he kneels. He frantically pushes aside her long duster coat looking for any sign of injury and he stops where her shirt is soaked with blood, circled almost perfectly around a small hole just under her ribs on her right side.
He brushes his fingers across her cheek, sitting her up more in hopes of waking her up but to no avail, she feels like dead weight in his arms and if it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of her chest he’d believe her to be dead. It’s then that he lifts her and carries her out the way he came, whistling for his horse and hoping that he was still close enough to hear him, praying he hadn’t run off when the gunfire started.
Arthur is relieved when he seems him loyally trotting up the road to meet them, seemingly recognizing something to be wrong when he gently sniffs the woman in his arms. It’s a challenge but Arthur manages to lift the both of them up into the saddle, holding her still with one arm and using his free hand to grab hold of the reins. Spurring the horse along he says, “we gotta get her safe boy.”
— — —
The cabin over the state border hadn’t felt so far away when he had left that morning for town, now it felt like he’d never get there. The landscape feels that much longer and the distance that much further away in the dark, moonlight casting long shadows off the cacti as it rises higher and higher into the sky. He’d gotten over the fear of losing her to blood loss what seemed like hours ago when her body began to grow hot. He supposed it was an improvement but now he worried he’d lose her to the infection that had brought on the fever.
Arthur can’t remember a time he’d last seen her so still, he’s not sure he ever has. Even when they shared a bed it seemed as if she’d never completely settle in her sleep. He’d take those restless nights any day over this. Anything was better than this. Anything was better than losing her.
If she died he might just lay down beside her and follow suit.
Hope for the first time comes when the shabby shack he’s been holed up in finally makes its appearance on the horizon. With a shout and kick to his horse’s side and ever growing determination to save the woman in his arms, Arthur ugres the horse onward as fast as he can go, speed in his favor with the race breed beneath him.
They come to a skidding halt just outside the structure and he holds onto her tighter for fear he may drop her with the sudden stop. When he dismounts, rather haphazardly with the weight of another person in his arms, he doesn’t bother to hitch the horse, he doesn’t particularly have to anyway with such a loyal friend.
If he hadn’t already kicked the door down when he broke into the place weeks ago then he’d have done it just then to carry her inside, except it barely hangs on its hinges and a simple nudge with his hip is enough to make it swing open. Arthur is careful not to knock any part of her against the door frame as he enters the one-room cabin and even gentler when lays her down on the bed, almost like she’s some sort of rare and precious treasure because, to him, she is.
— — —
He’s able to remove the bullet from her wound with relative ease which comes as a relief further affirmed when she reacts to the pain he causes her. It isn’t enough that she wakes from it but he can be at ease knowing she’d simply collapsed from exhaustion and not something more dire. It makes patching her up is the easy part now that he worries less. He’s even able to notice that she didn’t have an infection at all, no sign of fever either, coming to the conclusion that the heat he felt had to have just been normal body heat as he spreads a salve over her wound that Hosea had taught him how to make years ago and covers it with clean cloth.
Arthur breathes deeper and steadier, even able to finally relax in a chair beside the bed now that he knows she’s safe with him. She hadn’t been in much danger, though if he hadn’t found her, if he had decided to get drunk in that saloon then he may never have found her, she might have died. The very thought of it brings back the very real fear and heartbreak he felt at the idea of losing her, the emotions bringing him to his breaking point as he grasps her hand and holds it by his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispers, words he should have told her weeks ago finally coming to the surface, he clears his throat and starts again, “I’m so, so sorry, I am. I couldn’t let go and I shouldn’t have let that get in the way of-,” shouldn’t have let that get in the way of them, he doesn’t finish the sentence, it’s still hard to say and hard to admit that he’s let someone in again, “I just didn’t think it’d be so hard to let them go,” of course it would be hard, they had been his family, “You put up with me more than you should’ve and I just kept making it harder for you. You didn’t deserve that.” He stares intently at her face, how calm she looks in the moonlight cast from the window, he doesn’t know if she can hear him but he hopes she can because he doesn’t know if he can say it a second time, “I knew how much you meant to me but I didn’t know what it’d feel like to really lose you and, Sadie, I don’t want to find out. I don’t know… I don’t think I could live if I lost you like that, I could barely make it a couple weeks apart I don’t wanna think about what you dyin’ would do to me.”
He leans over and buries his face in her shoulder, desperate to be close to her again, swallowing back sobs before they can completely tear him apart. He hadn’t meant to love her like this, he loves too deeply and he knows that and it’s always gotten him hurt. But he failed that the night he met her, he’d been doomed from the start.
The hand that combs through his hair is tender and the kiss on his forehead soft. “It ain’t gonna kill ya if you say ya love me, Arthur,” her voice sounds tired and raspy and her words make him laugh almost pathetically because of course she had heard and of course she knew him well enough to know that’s what he was afraid of.
“I love you,” Arthur whispers against her, wrapping an arm around her, careful of her wound. It’s when she says, “You too,” that he’s sure they’re okay, that they’d be okay, now that things weren’t so unsaid any longer.