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Pale stars and half of the moon embedded themselves into a wine-soaked sky that stained the trees and swaying grasses below. Mulberry-colored hemlocks filtered the moonlight and caught the faintest glimmers on their needles.
And in the quiet of a faintly cold and premature, autumn wind, heavy boots crunched in the day’s sun-scorched grasses. Dull and rhythmic thudded his boots as Arthur Morgan strode under the August sky. He’d been gone since the night before last, in search of a buck. He hadn’t been successful, but it wasn’t much cause for concern- the rut wasn’t far off and deer would be plenty.
His pace slackened and his massive hand pushed the brim of his hat a little higher “Abigail Roberts, what the hell are you doin’ out here at this time of night?”
She spun around, and in the faint moonlight, Arthur could see one hand wrapped tightly around a squirming bundle and the other on a holster he’d never noticed under her shawl before.
He raised his hands slowly “Woah, Woah, slow down there- it’s just me.”
“Good lord, Arthur.” Her hand returned from her holster to cradle the baby and her shoulders fell with a weary sigh, “You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you, I just wasn’t expecting anyone out here this late.” his voice softened “Everything alright?”
Hosea and Dutch had passed on their way of adopting people to Arthur. Since John was practically his brother, and Abigail was more or less John’s partner, Arthur had taken to her like a sister.
Jack, bundled in his mother’s arms, gave a shrill cry, Abigail massaged her temple as it clearly wasn’t the first time.
Arthur winced slightly, “ I see”
“He’s been this way since last night. I haven’t got a wink of sleep” and the dark circles under her eyes attested.
“Whining all day long, sounds about like John.” he furrowed his brow “Speaking of which, where’s that bastard? He could at least let you get an hour or so.”
She rolled her eyes, “You’re a funny man, Arthur Morgan.”
Jack gave another indignant cry.
“I’ve fed, changed, and rocked you, could you just close your eyes for a while?” said Abigail to Jack wearily.
Arthur’s brow unfurrowed “Lemme see the boy”, there was something softer in his eyes as he outstretched his arms.
“Arthur, are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. Get yourself some sleep, Abigail.”
“Don’t cause trouble for Uncle Arthur” She whispered as she pensively slid the bundle into his arms, but the relief in her face was obvious.
“I owe you, Arthur”.
“You don’t owe me nothing, it’s that lazy son of a bitch who owes you for raising his kid while he ran off God knows where for a month.”
Abigail wrapped her shawl a little tighter and blinked hard. Cicadas chirped and the wind rustled the treetops for a moment that passed entirely too slowly. He realized his words, though heartfelt, were a little too strong for.
“I know Arthur, I-I believe there’s a good man somewhere in him,” she sighed “I just-” her voice trailing.
“You’re a saint, Abigail. Get some sleep, you deserve it. I’ll come find you if I need something.”
She nodded wordlessly and slowly left, heading toward camp.
Arthur cleared his throat and looked down at Jack; he’d been crying quietly the entire time. His glassy eyes watched Arthur warily, his face was red and cheeks lined with tears,
“Lemme see” Arthur counted on his fingers back to that late April morning.
“4 months. You’re a little thing, aren’t you?” and he was right, Jack was barely 4.5 kilograms (10 lbs), “Got that gangly Marston look”
Jack gave an indignant cry.
Arthur chuckled, “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to insult you”.
He moved his hand to support Jack’s neck and brought his tiny head to his chest. With a little effort, he whispered the words of a half-remembered drinking song.
“I am a prisoner, and still one til’ I die-” he paused and hummed, “-California miners, who unto us befell” he fumbled the words again, mumbling under his breath until he could find the words again
“Bid us go his way,
for which I will be sorry until my dying days-”
He mumbled the next line before finishing with a quiet “-Then went down to Texas on the old way”
https://youtu.be/0qHVPjTeU9o
It didn’t help.
“What are you doing, Morgan?” He shook his head, “ Offering to take the kid, don’t know a thing about quieting a baby, you old fool.”
Maybe it was the dim light, or that Arthur just needed more sleep, but for just a moment he saw some faint semblance of Isaac in Jack’s eyes, there was something he couldn't quite place but recognized instantly.
And then, with that thought, he recalled a song he’d heard Eliza use. Her thick Irish lilt and the tenderness in her voice had embedded themselves deep into Arthur’s memory, uncovered until now.
He tried to match the way he heard it in his mind. It wasn’t quite in key, and the tempo was a little off, but a husky whisper found itself on his lips
“From this valley, they say you are going,
I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile
And they say that you’re taking the sunshine
which has brightened our paths for a while”
Jack’s cries quieted to whimpers and Arthur felt the steady rise and fall of his chest as he tried in vain to blink away sleep.
“Then come sit by my side if you love me
Do not hasten to bid me adieu
Just remember the Red River Valley
And the cowboy that's loved you so true”
https://youtu.be/TM54-ZRd-9k
Finally, Jack’s eyes closed, and long eyelashes like wings gently brushing the sky.
Arthur sat under the boughs of sturdy elm with Jack sleeping soundly in his arms, his head nestled in against his shoulders and a tiny hand pressed against his chest, Jack’s tiny quilt draped over the both of them. They stayed that way until dawn.
And for the first time in quite a while, Arthur Morgan slept soundly.
---
Abigail awoke frantically. Her eyes strained against the faint dawn piercing the tent.
“Good lord, Arthur’s probably losing his mind”
She threw off the quilt and saw John at the flap of the tent just getting ready to leave.
He met her gaze “What the hell?”
“I’m getting Jack,” she muttered racing to change into a frock.
“Where’d he go?”
“You’re useless”
John squinted, “I just asked where the kid was”
“Jack, his name is Jack. He’s our son, born about four months ago, thought you might remember? Arthur was decent enough to take him so I could sleep last night. Or don’t you remember our son crying for the past day and a half?”
She stepped to the flap of the tent, her eyes piercing into John “Would it kill you to take some responsibility for once in your life?”
With that, she left.
---
Abigail found Arthur around the fire with Jack on his lap, carefully tipping a spoonful of broth into his mouth.
He looked up, “Hey, I didn’t want to wake you, so I’d figured I’d just give him some broth, but I think the boy’s a little hungry.”
She smiled, “Thank you, Arthur, that was mighty thoughtful”
Arthur passed her Jack, who was busy chewing his own hand.
‘For everything I mean,-”
“-Don’t even worry about it”
“I picked the wrong son of Dutch,” said Abigail with a smirk
“Don’t go saying all that now, I was no perfect father“ His voice became soft, “I guess I’m saying you really don’t what you’ve got until you’ve lost it” He shifted in his seat “You and John have got a good thing, a real good thing” there a faint smile in his voice “somewhere in between all the ripping each other's throats out-”
She laughed
“-I think you honestly love him, and I’d wager he loves you back”
Abigail silently turned her gaze to the fire.
His eyes turned to the fully bloomed sunrise stretched out across the horizon, “I’ve known John for longer than I care to say. He was always slow to learn, you know that. The bastard still can’t swim to this day.” he shook his head, “but he comes around, he’s funny like that. You think he ain’t heard a word of what you said, then the next day he’s doing just what you said.”
He turned back to Abigail and she met his gaze, “I think John will come around eventually, you’ve two have got something worthwhile and John’s might be dumber than a box of rocks, but even he can see that. Maybe, someday the three of you can” he trailed off.
“John will come around," he repeated "either that or I’ll beat it into him. Until then, I’m here Abigail.”
Abigail shook her head and tried to blink away a tear, “You never cease to amaze me, Arthur”
“Yeah, I know, ain't every day you see the ugliest, old outlaw in Colter”
She laughed and turned to Jack, who was now chewing her fingers, “Well, I guess it’s time you were fed”
Arthur stood up slowly, and looked toward the road into town in the valley below “-and I’ll be going too, got a little business in town to take care of”
---
He retrieved his bag from his tent and slung it over his horse “I’m going now Ms. Grimmshaw” he called across the camp.
\
“Alright, maybe take a bath while there. You’re filthy, boy!”
He chuckled, “No promises,” handling the horse's reigns.
“Giddyup”
As he rode, he was whistling Red River Valley and his mind began to wander.