Chapter Text
Arthur’s shoulder kept getting jostled as he rode across the prairie, pain rushing through it with each movement. His whole body ached and he could feel himself getting more and more tired as the time passed.
Hands were gripping as strongly as they could into his horse's mane, knuckles going white. His legs were wrapped around her body, feet practically touching each other. His whole body was wrapping itself around his horse to make it impossible to fall off. He was so grateful his horse was okay, the O’Driscolls had left her alone throughout his entire torture. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if they had hurt her at all. Perhaps he would have truly broken then.
After losing Boadicea in Blackwater he had felt numb. She was with him for years, she was his best friend. He tried several horses but none of them stuck the way she did. It wasn’t until he went back to Colter to visit Davey’s grave did he finally find the horse who could take her place in his heart. A beautiful white Arabian who was starving and freezing in the cold, snowy mountains.
He named her Atalanta, after the character from Greek mythology. Atalanta obviously belonged to someone, or she used to, and based on the way she acted around Arthur when he first met her she was abused. Treated unfairly, especially for such a beautiful horse. The character Atalanta had been abandoned as a child in the mountains by her father. He thought it was fitting.
She grew to be his best friend despite the short amount of time he had her, and he became hers. Now, she had to bring him home, he trusted her, trusted her with his life. He knew she would get him to camp. To the gang. To Dutch and Hosea. To his home. But that could only happen if he stayed on her.
His hands weakened their grip against his will, body growing more and more tired. How much longer until he’s back at camp? He bent forward with his eyes closed. Pressing his forehead into Atalanta’s neck, inhaling deeply. Maybe he could just… fall asleep here. Atalanta could take him home. She can do it, maybe he can just rest for now.
He lost track of the time, of the distance they traveled. All his body wanted to do was stop and give up. To pass out on Atalanta’s back as she ran. It was the hardest thing, keeping a hold of consciousness.
Atalanta slowed to a stop. What happened? Had he run into someone? A stranger who was riding on the paths? He cracked his eyes open and lifted his head up slightly. It was the camp. Clemens Point. She did it. His girl brought him home. His eyes closed again. A small smile growing on his lips. He really made it. He felt his body begin to shut down. His mind growing calm. Maybe now he could really rest.
He felt himself start to slide off of Atalanta. The grip he had on her before completely relaxed until he was no longer holding himself up. He braced for impact and landed hard onto the ground, letting out a small grunt as a result. Someone ran up to him.
“Arthur!” A face appeared within his vision. Miss Grimshaw. Then another, “Arthur?” Karen said softly, her voice shaky with fear.
A deeper voice spoke, “Arthur.” Dutch’s face appeared, his face looking down at him in shock.
“I-I told you it was a set up, Dutch.” Arthur slurred out, his whole body beginning to ache again. He felt more aware of every feeling present in his body, the pain in his shoulder, the tiredness his body felt, the bruises on his torso that were likely darkening with each passing minute.
“My boy,” Dutch whispered out, “my dear boy, what?”
“They got me, but… but I got away.” He bit out, gritting his teeth together as the pain grew stronger, awareness coming back to him as he spoke. His eyes started to water a little, blurring his vision as he tried to blink them away.
“Yeah, that you did.” Dutch encouraged before yelling out, “Miss Grimshaw! I need help! Reverend Swanson!”
Arthur tensed up at the noise and spat out “He was gonna set the law on us!” Several people started to approach them, surrounding the area and watching with ever growing worry.
“Of course he was!” Miss Grimshaw walked up to Dutch, bending down beside him. Pearson also walked up, opposite of the other two and bent down to speak directly to Arthur.
“I’m sorry, Arthur!” He apologized, his voice laced with regret.
“It’s a bit late for apologies.” Dutch barked out before calling out, “Swanson!” Swanson ran up, his face was red, likely due to drinking but he seemed to be aware of the urgency.
“Mr Morgan! Mr Morgan, you're safe now.” He tried to comfort. Two of them, Dutch, and Pearson, lifted Arthur up, they moved his arms around two sets of shoulders, dragging him away from the cleaning he fell on.
“Let’s get him to bed,” Grimshaw said as Arthur grit his teeth and let out a hiss as he was jostled around. Before he knew it they were placing him onto his cot, adjusting every limb on his body to fit inside the small bed.
“You are safe now, Arthur.” Dutch tried to comfort, “I got you. You're safe now.” Arthur let out a hollow laugh, his eyes tearing up again. Dutch’s comfort wasn't worth much at the moment. It felt just as hollow as his laugh.
“That’s pretty Dutch, that’s real pretty.” Arthur could feel his body completely shut down, eyes closing.
“Miss Grimshaw, please sit with him a while.” Dutch paused for a moment before he started to walk away, his footsteps growing faint with each second that passed.
“Of course. You’ll be okay, Mr Morgan, you’re home.” Her reassurances were the last thing he heard before he allowed himself to fall into the deep clutches of sleep.