Work Text:
Lenny first notices in Colter.
The biting cold and gnawing hunger does little for any of them. Paired with their missing and dead friends, Lenny is in a foul mood for most of that time. Most of them are in low spirits, so those that deal by speaking incessantly seem to not mind the fact that some of them, Lenny included, can’t bring themselves to utter a word more than strictly necessary. With the girls quieter than usual, without Sean there to be the distraction he usually is, and with Lenny feeling like his jaw is wired shut against the cutting winds, there’s little else to do but observe and think.
He has no luck hunting with Bill, not that he understands why he and Bill were sent out at all. Bill might be a good enough shot, but he’s about as quiet as a bull in a china shop, and Lenny will readily admit that he has the tracking skills of a toddler – wilderness survival has never been his fortè. Still, the both of them return to camp even more exhausted, hungry, and annoyed than when they left, and Lenny doesn’t have many kind words to spare for Bill until they descend from the hellish mountaintops.
Which is why it sticks out to him, when he goes to apologize and explain to Pearson, only to realize Bill has already informed the man of their failure. Apparently, Charles has dragged Arthur with him to try their luck, and Lenny wonders why they didn’t send those two initially. Pearson says something about Charles being hurt, and Arthur not being an especially good tracker, and that’s what Lenny later pinpoints as where this begins, for him.
He settles next to Tilly not long after, the wooden bench uncomfortable, the both of them wrapped up in layer after layer of clothes. Mary-Beth and Karen are both sitting with the Adler widow, and Uncle and Swanson are both knocked out on the other side of Tilly, so there’s a little bit of space to speak privately between them. Lenny rubs his gloved hands together to generate some heat between them, before clearing his throat, which has Tilly looking over at him with an arched eyebrow.
“Arthur knows how to hunt, right?” He asks lowly, looking over at her just to see her brow furrow.
“Yeah, of course,” she answers, seeming equally suspicious and amused by him even asking.
“And track game?”
“Yes, Lenny, Hosea taught him,” Tilly drawls, before rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, hunching in on herself in an effort to preserve warmth while still eyeing him. “This about you ‘n’ Bill’s attempt at it? I promise we all know you tried your best.”
He scowls at her teasing tone, and is maybe a bit too defensive in his response. “No, ain’t about me, it’s about Arthur.”
“Why,” she starts, then takes a quick look around to make sure nobody’s paying attention before leaning in a bit closer. “You figure how to get his journal without John’s help?”
That has been an ongoing game between John, Tilly, and Arthur since long before Lenny joined them – moreso between John and Tilly, really. Arthur does his best to keep his journal hidden and out of reach, and he’s good at it, John is just better at finding it. It’s like he produces it out of thin air sometimes, and it irks Tilly like nothing else, for reasons Lenny can’t really understand, but she conscripted him onto her side of the game almost immediately. It’s been years and they still haven’t worked it out besides the one, when Arthur found them out immediately and threatened to throw Lenny’s entire book collection into the river if he didn’t hand the journal back over. John laughed for a very long time once Lenny proved to be a very easy turncoat, when it comes to the endangerment of his own possessions. He’s not sure why Tilly still insists Lenny is on her side – he has very decidedly taken a step back from that particular competition, in the interest of what personal property he has collected over the years.
“No,” he answers exasperatedly. “This ain’t about the stupid journal– Why is that the first thing you think of?”
Tilly shrugs. “Could use the laugh. Ain’t like John’s lookin’, laid out as he is.”
“Jesus Christ,” Lenny mutters, shaking his head. If anything, they have a lower chance of getting ahold of it while in a transitory camp – Arthur doesn’t remove his journal from his satchel for spots like this. Tilly knows that, so she’s probably just bringing it up to get a rise out of Lenny. “No, ain’t about that, listen…”
He shifts a bit closer, ducking his head down, and Tilly matches with a renewed interest at the apparent need for secrecy. “Spoke to Pearson earlier, he said Arthur ‘n’ Charles went out hunting together, ‘cause apparently Arthur can’t track too well.”
The snort of disbelief from Tilly is validating, if nothing else. “Well, that’s silly.”
“Right? That’s what I was thinkin’,” Lenny hisses with agitation, only to be hushed by Tilly in an effort to not draw attention towards them. “The hell you think he’s up to?”
“I dunno, Lenny, huntin’?”
“Tilly, the only person he goes hunting with is Hosea, as we’ve already established.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “It’s too cold for this,” she mutters, and then waves him away. “Go, do your thing then, let me know if he’s conscripting Charles for some evil means we need to counter. Sure that ain’t it, though.”
Lenny might huff indignantly at the time, heading off to walk the short guard route weaving among the rickety buildings of Colter, but this is where he first catches on. Because Arthur and Charles return from their hunt while Lenny is still on watch, and it’s really not his fault that the route brings him right past where they’re hitching their horses.
“Oh and, uh,” he hears Arthur say, the man flicking Lenny a nod in acknowledgement as he passes, cheeks red from the cold, before returning his attention to Charles. “Thank you, for showin’ me how to, uh, use the bow properly.”
Is that it? Lenny figures Hosea probably never taught Arthur how to hunt with a bow. He knows Charles is skilled with it, so maybe that’s what this has all been about.
There’s a small huff of air from Charles, due to laughter or the weight of the deer carcass as he hoists it from horseback onto his shoulder, Lenny isn’t sure. “I only showed you a little, it takes a lifetime of practice to master.”
That’s about as much Lenny catches as the two bring the hard-won game to Pearson, and Lenny continues the rest of his watch deep in thought. He is very grateful for the food, but as he eats the meat-filled stew, there’s just something about the course of events leading up to it that won’t let him go.
So, the thought won’t leave him. It’s there when it becomes clear upon arrival at Horseshoe Overlook that Arthur broke the wheel of his wagon on the way, and Charles jumped off Bill's cart to help. It’s there when Arthur follows Charles into the woods during Sean’s welcome back party. It’s there when apparently Arthur suggests Charles as the third man for John’s train robbery, to Sean’s great indignation. It’s there in every interaction he sees them have in between.
His understanding of the situation does evolve over that time, with the realization that the redness on Arthur’s cheeks back at Colter isn’t just from the cold. It becomes a pervasive thing, whenever Lenny witnesses Arthur after an interaction with Charles – not always as noticeable, but definitely there. Arthur is many things, but a great liar has never been one of them.
So when he finally gets both Tilly and John on board, they have a lot of fun.
Tilly first believes it at Horseshoe Overlook.
Yes, okay, if you ask Lenny, he absolutely caught onto it first, and he even told Tilly, and she didn’t believe him, blah blah blah. Sorry if it takes more than a bold lie and some longing looks across snow-dusted horsebacks for her to throw herself behind one of Lenny’s theories. She’s learned her lesson in that regard, she won’t be making that mistake again, if only to save her from being teased relentlessly – something the boys like to do oh so much.
It’s really Sean’s party that does it, initially. She’s busying herself poking at a nasty bruise on John’s back, because she reckons he’s drunk enough to hardly feel anything even though he’s telling her to quit it – it’s not her fault he’s slurring his words, how on earth can she understand? She’s simply worried about his poor frail body, after that wolf attack.
It actually did scare the living daylights out of most of them, seeing John return in that state, but Abigail has had the privilege and pleasure of reaming him out for it, so Tilly and Arthur have both settled on simply being annoying about the recovery process. Tilly does this by acting overly concerned, where Arthur downplays the entire thing, and neither are very well received by John. At least he’s alive, Tilly heard Lenny tell him when he complained about it the other day, only for John to grunt back at him in that dismissive way he does. It’s all great fun, really.
So she’s poking at the bruise on his back, asking if his bandages are too tight over his loud, drunken complaining at her poking the bruise on his back, when she catches the unmistakable shape of Arthur moving in from the treeline. She squints in suspicion, taking in his flushed face as he stops by a crate left by one of the wooden tables, picking up two bottles of whiskey. Is he drunk already? She’s not seen him drink very much tonight – barely seen him at the party since he returned, really.
“Ow– Ouch, Tilly!” John’s voice snaps her back to what she’s doing, digging a knuckle maybe a tad too harshly into the edge of the bruise. She rounds him and looks at him with wide eyes and clear faux-concern.
“Oh, no, John,” she simpers, hearing Javier snort with amusement from where he’s sitting nearby, which is a win in and of itself. “You alright?”
“I’m done witchu,” John growls, pushing her worried hands away with a scowl. “Git gone or Imma tell Javier all ‘bout that time in Colorado when you came along only for–”
“Don’t even think ‘bout it!” She cuts in, slapping a hand over his mouth and muffling his voice, too aware of the story he’s about to tell, and how mortifying John’s rendition of it is.
“Ow!” He ducks away from her hand, lifting an arm to protect himself from any more of tipsy Tilly’s violent tendencies. “Then leave! Go bother Lenny, or somethin’!”
“Fine, I’m goin’. You keep that story to yourself, John Marston, or else…” She gives her most menacing stare, to which John just rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer, waving her on. He won’t tell, she knows, at least not tonight, because then he’d have less blackmail to work with when he might need it later.
“I really wish to actually hear this tale, one day,” Javier sighs wistfully from behind her, and she turns and shoots him a warning look as well. He’s heard a version of the starting sentence a few times too many, over the past couple of years, and if Tilly has her way he will never hear the rest – she’ll put John down herself if she has to. She earns a playful grin in return from the other, before leaving both men to drink the night away in peace.
She takes the long way around camp, seeing Arthur disappear into the treeline again with a couple bottles in hand, before spotting Lenny rummaging through a different nearby crate for a bottle of beer. It’s easy enough to sidle up next to him, casually leaning against the wagon she has her back to and keep her eyes on the edge of camp. Tilly still sees the inconspicuous look Lenny gives her, the way he follows her eyesight before returning to the crate.
“You saw him?” He asks as he picks up a bottle and uncorks it.
She purses her lips in thought for a second, before clicking her tongue in annoyance. “The hell’s he doin’ out there?”
Lenny shrugs and takes a sip of his beer before answering. “Charles is on watch, I guess.”
Tilly’s gaze turns sharp as she looks back at him. She doesn’t need to verbalize the question on her mind, because Lenny is already smirking in that impish way of his, leaning in a bit closer as if sharing a secret.
“Think ‘bout it.”
And that’s how he ropes her in, truly. Because by the time she watches Arthur and Charles ride out to hunt a few days later, again – bison this time, apparently – she already has the older man figured out. He’s not that hard to read, sometimes, especially if you know him. The furious blush, finding any excuse to speak to him – Tilly swears she’s seen Arthur seek out Charles for any reason more than she’s actually spoken to him herself in the past few days – while ducking under his hat whenever Charles even hints at smiling in his direction. It’s Mary-level nauseating, that’s how obvious it is, and Tilly wonders if John has caught on yet just so someone will understand just how bad that means it is.
Still, when Arthur eagerly jumps atop his horse and follows Charles out of camp, Tilly thankfully still has someone to lock eyes with to communicate her astonishment. Lenny, for his part, lifts his eyebrows in a classic I told you so move, earning him a glare from her which he just sticks the tip of his tongue out at. He’s being ridiculous, in Tilly’s opinion, but he does have a point. Taking in the rest of camp, only a few seem to really notice the two leaving, besides Tilly herself, and Lenny. Pearson watches them go with interest, which isn’t that surprising considering how successful their last hunt was, while Sean is on guard and salutes them in his typically teasing manner on their way out, and Jack’s eyes their departure from Abigail's lap, as he asked Arthur to find him a comic book this morning and is clearly eagerly awaiting results on that request. Poor kid has yet to fully grasp the concept of patience, Tilly figures.
Arthur returns alone and drops off meat with Pearson, and Tilly thinks she’s going crazy until she overhears Sean actually asking him about it.
“Where’s yer other half gone, English?”
“Who? … Charles?”
Sean spreads his arms out as if to question who else in the area he could be talking about. Arthur frowns at him. “Didn’t do him in durin’ that hunt, did’ya? I know yer a mean one, but not cruel, Morgan, surely?”
“He went for a ride, Sean, watch your mouth.”
That’s about the extent of what she cares to hear, half of what comes out of Sean's mouth isn’t much worth listening to anyway, so she happily leaves him to his fate. It doesn’t mean she’s free of Arthur being a fumbling fool around Charles though, and she would be of a mind to confront him about it if Lenny didn’t stop her – and if it wasn’t so much fun to make teasing jokes behind his back.
“Poisoned arrows?”
Tilly pauses by Lenny’s side and nudges him to catch his attention, nodding towards where Arthur is standing in front of Charles, who’s been sitting and working quietly by the fireplace for the past twenty minutes. Lenny immediately snorts and clasps a hand over his mouth to hide it.
“Not very nice, but… Very effective.”
“R-Right.”
She has to bury her face in Lenny’s shoulder to not let out a loud laugh. Really, right in camp? Does Charles even see the effect he has on Arthur? He’s blushing and stuttering now, for Christ’s sake!
“You get me some Oleander, and I’ll make you some.”
“Thank you.”
The weird look John sends them from behind his coffee cup cannot stop either Tilly or Lenny from dissolving into giggles when, after the uncharacteristically jaunty thanks from Arthur, they witness him get straight on his horse and head out, undoubtedly in search of the plant Charles has asked for. Tilly is borderline crying when John gives in and comes over, scowl pre-set on his brows.
“The hell is so goddamn funny?”
“John! Come here, we need to speak to you,” Lenny says between fits of giggles, Tilly taking a quick glance around to make sure nobody else is paying them too much attention. Charles hasn’t noticed, thankfully focused on his arrows, though Mary-Beth and Karen are sending her questioning looks from their sleeping spot. Tilly figures this won’t take long, so they can wait, following John and Lenny the few steps they take for privacy before the three huddle together.
“You notice Arthur just left camp?” Lenny asks, barely containing his grin as John raises an eyebrow, gaze briefly flickering over to the camp entrance.
“I guess,” John mumbles, before turning back to the two of them with suspicion in his eyes. “What’s he got with whatever you two’re on?”
“God, how’re we gonna explain—” Tilly starts, but is cut off by Lenny grabbing her arm and shushing her.
“Shshh, listen,” he laughs, turning back to John, who’s frowning at them again. “Jus’ watch him a little, alright? You’ll get it if you haven’t already, he really ain’t hard to figure out.”
“It’s as bad as it was with Mary, John,” Tilly groans, which is enough of a clue for John’s brows to rise a little, the older man straightening and looking around camp as she continues. “You figured him out ‘fore me with her, and it’s just as horrible, worse even!”
“Who– What?”
“Just–”
“Think ‘bout it, John.”
John figures it out pretty damn fast.
At least now that Tilly and Lenny have put him onto it, it’s hard to ignore. With how quickly Arthur returns from his excursion with only a plant for Charles – which gains John some wide eyed do you see? looks from both Lenny and Tilly – followed by Arthur being real quick about suggesting Charles as the third for the train robbery, John realizes it’s a miracle more people haven’t caught on. He doesn’t even need to borrow the stupid journal; the man might not be the most upfront about what he’s thinking, but subtlety clearly isn’t exactly his game either.
John wonders if Sean, of all people, has picked up on Arthur’s crush. He mentions the lovebirds being ready at the front of the train as he passes to head further back, while John is getting ready to climb aboard between two carts. Kid’s not even supposed to be here, but Arthur’s agreed to let him tag along for some reason, so who is John to argue?
The fourth turns out good to have along when the law show up. John still isn’t sure whether Sean is onto Arthur about Charles by the end of it though, or if it’s all just his typical teasing.
He is pretty sure Hosea knows, if only for the amusement in the older man’s eyes whenever John sees him watching Arthur interact with Charles. Abigail has sussed it out too, which means the other girls probably have as well if Tilly hasn’t told them. It’s only really Tilly and Lenny finding hilarity in it though, and John is one of the few they feel comfortable being open about it with. They all know too much about each other; what’s another poorly-kept secret to the pile, even if Arthur doesn’t know they know it yet?
“Ooh, Charles,” Tilly whispers late one night, when it’s just the three of them huddled on the log by the fireplace, tipsy from the bottle of whiskey they’ve been sharing. “I am so enamored by you ‘n’ your big skilled… hands.”
John might chuckle, just a little, bringing the bottle to his lips as Lenny snorts and picks up where she leaves off. “Oh, please, take me… hunting, yes, that’s it.”
“Alright, you two, Jesus Christ,” John says as the two laugh, pulling his hat off just to run a hand through his hair.
“C’mon, Johnny, where’d you think he even is right now, if not out admirin’ Mister Smith and his beau’ful… eyes,” Tilly drawls as she leans over and takes the bottle from him, Lenny dissolving into another fit of drunken giggles.
“Gonna regret that in the mornin’,” he notes bemusedly, watching her take another sip of the liquor.
She does, very much so, which is very gratifying for John. Especially since Tilly and Lenny spend the rest of the night discussing the merits of Arthur’s stories about John from when he was young – specifically the one where he managed to dye half his body green at thirteen, which is one the two still find very funny. John thinks there’s only so many times a story can be retold before it stops being entertaining, but Tilly and Lenny disagree, especially when intoxicated and missing the oldest member of their quartet.
The least they can do after making John suffer through that is to have horrible hangovers.
Tragically, both Tilly and Lenny recover, and even worse, John is with them when they witness Arthur do his absolute worst thus far.
Lenny is talking with him about Old Boy, because apparently one of his shoes is about to fall off if they don’t do something about it, so they’re discussing their options when Tilly appears next to them, clears her throat and nods in the direction she wants them to look. It’s Charles approaching Arthur this time, for once, but Arthur hasn’t noticed yet, standing by the foodwagon and looking over the canned goods there.
It happens in slow motion, so John can really feel each passing second siphoning another year off his life. Charles stops a couple feet behind Arthur, says something John can’t hear because they’re too far away, and Arthur must have been too deep in his thoughts because he jumps as he turns. His hand catches one of the cans, which goes flying as if fucking catapulted, hits three other cans that go rattling onto the ground, before hitting the wooden wagon wall and finally landing with a splash in the bucket of water underneath.
Charles has dishwater up to his knees. Arthur is beet red. Tilly is crouched down, hiding her face between her knees, wheezing with laughter. Lenny is stock still, staring wide-eyed with his hands covering his mouth and the breathy half-chuckles he’s trying to keep down. John is hot and cold with mortification on behalf of his brother.
“Let me know when he stops being embarrassing,” John groans and rubs his face, damn the jolt of pain from the scars, as he turns away from the entire scene.
There’s a couple other people looking, but a large share of camp seems to have either already moved on or not noticed. Abigail is biting down a grin from behind where Jack is reading to her though, and with the way the nearby newspaper is shaking, John knows Hosea is hiding his laughter behind it.
For a long moment, there’s not a word, which is actually just as worrying, John realizes.
“Guys?”
“Yeah, we’ll tell you,” Lenny breathes out, as Tilly is still too occupied wheezing and making squeaky noises from where she’s bent over to give a proper answer.
Sean can’t believe nobody has actually caught on yet.
Okay, Arthur is easy enough to figure out, watching him curse and stutter out an apology as he crouches down to pick up the cans. His feelings on the matter is an open secret at this point. Charles joins him in the cleanup effort with a small smile and shake of his head, saying something Sean can’t hear but can very well guess at. And it’s not like Sean can blame the others for not seeing the rest of it, because he probably wouldn’t, had Charles not told him.
See, he might’ve stayed up way after everyone else the night of his return party. It had been for several reasons, really, like not wanting to go to sleep just to possibly wake up back where Arthur, Javier, and Charles found him. Normal, reasonable things, really. However, he still maintains that it was pure coincidence that Sean, far from completely sober in the wee morning hours, had gone to – well – take a piss, only to happen upon Charles on the guard route. He remembers teasing him, thanking him, the whole shebang, and Sean doesn’t really fully remember how, but Arthur had come up. Maybe because Charles was still nursing that bottle the man apparently had brought out for him earlier in the night, big softie that he is.
“We’ve actually been sweet on each other since around when we settled by Blackwater,” Charles hummed nonchalantly, and Sean had not known what to do with his face. Who would? What do you even say to that, after teasing someone about buying into Arthur’s good-boy act?
“Wh– Smith, why’re ya tellin’ me this, I dunno how’ta shut the fuck up!” Sean had hissed in response, worried both about accidentally divulging a secret not his own, and consequently getting his shit rocked by Arthur for it. He still is, somewhat, worried about the latter part, that is.
Charles had arched an eyebrow, and looked Sean over, slouched against a tree and looking perfectly sober as he was at that point in time, thank you very much.
“Outta your mouth? Not a soul that’ll believe it.”
The memory is at the front of his mind whenever he sees the two together. Sean has definitely not tried very hard to keep his knowledge a secret; Arthur absolutely knows he knows, now. But nobody else seems to have really thought twice about the nature of Sean’s teasing.
So, well, at least Charles has been correct about that.