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“Miss O’Shea liked this one,” Arthur remarks bluntly when the music from camp reaches them down by the water, smoking together in the late hour as they’ve made a habit of doing after sharing a rather personal evening together the night before taking Hanging Dog Ranch. There’s a haunted look that passes over his features when he takes the last draw from his cigarette then tossing the rest into the water, no doubt having grief over the former gang member. Sadie watches the way the smoke swirls from his mouth when he slowly releases it, noting the cough he tries to stifle and counts the seconds it lasts.
She doesn’t look at him for much longer, casting her gaze to the road on the other side of the creek, tries not to think about the dark circles under his eyes and how his clothes almost hang off of him now, it’s hard to see him like that. She still remembers him the way he was when they met, how big and threatening he looked looming in they doorway to the shabby shack in Colter yet would speak to her with an unexpectedly gentle tone that drew her to him even then.
Sadie tosses the butt of her cigarette down to the ground, grinding it underneath her boot and reminding herself not to swallow the smoke as she builds up the courage to turn to Arthur and ask, “You wanna dance, Arthur?” And begins to regret it when he looks at her almost confused out the corner of his eye, so she keeps going, “Ain’t no one lookin’. And you don’t gotta I just thought I’d ask is all.”
She thinks about just leaving him there, about heading back up to the camp to switch with whoever was currently on guard duty, even starts that way but stops when he says, “Course I would Sadie, c’mere.” He holds out his arms to her and she feels her chest swell. She’d got over feeling guilty for feeling things for him nights ago but wasn’t used to how it made her feel, how she wanted to run to him instead of walk.
Arthur holds her hand in his and wraps his other arm around her waist, Sadie puts hers on his shoulder.
He only begins to sway them at first and instinctively she steps forward, awkwardly bumping into him and nearly stepping on his foot.
“What are you doin’?” He looks down at her, puzzled look on his face like he can figure her out.
“Dancin’?”
“You actually know how to dance?” His voice cracks just slightly and between that and his confusion it makes her laugh.
“Yeah, a little, here-“ she looks down at their feet and by the way their foreheads touch she knows he’s followed suit, watching her every move, “So when I step forward you go back, alright? Try it.” She resets, attempts the step again, Arthur does as told, “Good okay, now you move to your left and I’ll go my right,” and again, “then I’ll go back this time and you forward,” the move is clumsy on his part, moving before she can and being too fast, almost stepping on her, but she stays patient, “last one, my left your right,” the last step is smooth enough she attempts to lead him into the next step, a repeat of the very first and she’s pleasantly surprised when he picks up on it, following her in the pattern she’s just shown him, “Yeah, just like that. It’s a kinda sort of like box, see?”
Arthur seems happy with himself that he’s learned so quick, “Where’d you learn this?”
Sadie looks back up at him, the smile he wears contagious and pride bubbling in her from teaching him so quickly, “My Ma was a working girl from France. She taught me a bit before she and my daddy split and I went with him. It’s called a waltz I think.”
“I’ve heard Dutch use that word, I think you’re right,” Arthur looks back down at their feet momentarily, checking to make sure he’s still doing it right, he’s suddenly confident enough in himself to take the lead and Sadie happily lets him.
She lets herself get lost as they move to the rhythm on the song, staring at the lines in his face and the shadows the moonlight casts on his features, committing them all to her memory should she one day never see it again. She could only hope that day wouldn’t come but somehow she suspected it would. “What’s this song called?” She asks him, just to hear him talk, just hear his voice so that one day she can recall it along with his face.
He thinks for a moment, focusing more on the music and she watches as he tries to recall the name, “It’s... oh, right, Chello Suit Number One. Bach is the composer.”
Sadie can feel the look of surprise on her face as her eyebrows arch upward and eyes widen, “How’d you know that??”
“I know all of ‘em just had to remember. Dutch taught me them a long time ago. Even tried to get me to learn the opera. I can barely do English let alone sing in whatever kinda language they sing in.”
“I think it’s Italian,” she laughs at him and the imagine she gets of Arthur trying to sing opera.
“Yeah I think so too.”
Rustling in leaves near by causes them to pull apart and Sadie’s heart skips in her chest, feeling simultaneously like she’s been caught doing something she should and ready to fight should she have to. She stops holding her breath when she sees John in the tree line. Arthur waves to him and he returns it before leaving them. She doesn’t worry he’s seen them, she had already told Abigail about that night and the way John started looking at her and Arthur she suspected Abigail had told him. If it had been anyone else, though, she’s sure she would have felt more embarrassed being seen so vulnerable.
“Well,” she says, already missing his touch, “thank you for the dance Mr. Morgan.” And she nods, almost a polite bow as she heads up the hill to camp.
“My pleasure,” he calls after her, “maybe we can do it again sometime. You can teach me more steps.” She smiles at the thought, knowing she’ll have to remember more moves if she wanted to keep the unspoken promise.
They’d never get the chance, however.