Chapter Text
Shame was an overwhelming thing.
Its like an awful pit that forms in your gut, and makes your head get dizzy with hot embarrassment that clouds your brain until it becomes the only feeling you can focus on. Creating the overwhelming feeling of needing to break away and hide from the world around you. Wishing to be lonely rather then seen.
It was a feeling that Arthur had become quite familiar with over the past couple months. The urge of wanting to duck his head down, avoid everyone that has eyes, and run. Not that he has anywhere else to go. He wants to run to his Ma, but that'd only lead to a grave. He wants to run to his home, but there'd be no one waiting for him.
Not in a comforting way, at least. Not in a loving way.
Not to say that Pa didn't care for him. Arthur knows that his father loves him. He surely does! He just has a funny way of showing it. Especially after his ma passing. He's doing his best though, Arthur knows that. He just wishes that he'd have more patience with Arthur. He misses her just as much. He's trying just as much. Pulling, or trying to pull, his weight so him and his dad can survive. He knows that he makes it harder for his father, but to be honest, Arthur doesn't think his old man cares about much anymore.
When looking at the man in question, talking to a feller who is clearly not interested in talking to Pa, Arthur wishes the old man would look for work instead of turning to thievery.
Pa could work a job. He did when Ma was alive, after she'd first fallen ill. They still didn't have enough money to buy her medicine and still afford food for the week, so he took to pick-pocketing as a side hustle. Later teaching Arthur to do the same. Even then, they dont get much. Really, they're no better off now then they were then. Maybe more dirty.
At first, Arthur will admit it was exciting to learn how to pick pocket. Pa never paid so much attention to him. Telling him what kinds of folk to look for, what time of day was busier and how to sneak through crowded areas, how to be present but unnoticed, it made Arthur feel smart. His father was teaching him important life lessons and skills, just like how fathers were meant to teach their sons. Arthur felt important.
Now, Arthur cant bring himself to think of his father in a kind light. Instead, he feels an unnerving weight grow in his stomach, crawling up to his throat and rooting itself firmly within Arthur. He knew what they were doing ain't right.
"It don't matter none what's right, right now son. Im telling you to do something, so you do it!" Is what Arthur was told along with a smack over top his head.
He waited for his signal. For a sign from his pa that now was the time to pass him. His job in his father's plan was very simple. Wait for Pa to slide whatever goods he snatches into his back pant pocket. Arthur will then rush past him and the out of towner, taking the prize out of Pa's pocket and into Arthur's. Then arthur is to make his way back to the cabin and sit in the loft till Pa gets back.
It was the same plan they'd done twice this week. It was fool proof– thats what Pa tells him. Arthur looks like nothing more then some street rat brushing past two fellas as he ran about the town. If the feller they're robbing notices something missing, Pa can distract them until Arthur distances himself and the stolen goods away from being found.
The man Pa was talking to was from no where near here. He wore nicer, cleaner clothes not much folk around them can afford. A fancy black vest with golden buttons with a nice satchel wrapped around his torso, and fine rings and chains around his fingers and belt. His dark hair was long and slicked back. Accompanied by a thick mustache and a matching patch of hair under his lips. The man had a very prominent nose and eyebrows that made the man look far more...serious.
Arthur thought he almost looked strange. Maybe just a tad out of place. Especially compared to folk like him and Pa.
He was watching in an alley just a couple yards back from them. Pa was talking and waving his hands around dramatically. Putting a show for the traveler, who looked throughly unamused. Something in Arthur's gut told him that this was wrong. Not only in the moral sense, no, something was wrong.
"You! You're the bastard that stole my horse!"
He couldn't see who hollered, but it didn't take long to get to. A large man was marching towards his pa and the out of towner. Pa catches sight of him at the same time Arthut does, and decides right then that it was time to go. The fancy man seems startled as well, before moving out of the way as the man begins chasing after his father.
"PA!" Arthur shouts, jumping out of the shelter of the alley.
Arthur stills. His eyes wide. Pa didnt get the money. He looks up at the man with fancy clothes, who is now looking at Arthur with scrutinizing eyes. He's intimidating, someone most people don't mess with much.
There's some more yelling, and Arthur watches as a few more men run after Pa.
Something shifts deep in Arthur. The need that comes of not having money. The need to eat tonight. The need to make his pa look at him with something besides annoyance.
He leaps for the man. Charging at him before he has the chance to process Arthur coming towards him. He grabs onto the satchel wrapped around the man and pulls at it with all his strength. The man stumbles and pushes him back, his deep voice ringing in Arthur ears as he yells something of surprise from the boy at his side. Bewilderment written on his face.
The strap of the bag gives way and rips. Arthur nearly falls over before catching himself and sprinting as hard as a could.
His eyes frantically scanning the crowd, looking for any sign of where his father was. Watching as people would turn their heads to look at him. No good Lyle Morgan and his no good son, running away from the problems they started. Ain't that a simple picture.
Further down the main road at the outskirts of town he spots his pa. Cornered by the sheriff and the deputy on their horses in front of him, the town police behind him, and the larger man that had been chasing him before at his side. Landing a punch directly to his face.
Arthur suddenly stops himself, nearly tripping over his own feet as he watches Pa get tackled to the ground.
Pa's going to be taken in. "Oh no..."
Fast, upcoming footsteps approach Arthur from behind. Whipping his head around fast enough to make his eyes go fuzzy for a second, he see's it is the man Arthur had just robbed and he's brought a friend with him.
Arthur risks one more glance to his pa before he rushes off to whatever way his legs carry him.
The boots he long since outgrew were causing his feet to ache. His stomach and head hurt with what little he's eaten, but Arthur manages to push through the pain as he runs through the alleys of town. He just has to make his way to the woods, where he'll be able to...Well, he don't know much past getting to the woods. Out running the two men behind him. Thats what he needs to focus on.
Arthur slips through ditches and rounds piles of firewood stacked outside houses and shops. He's almost half way across the little town when Arthur slows. Listening for any commotion behind him. Once he's satisfied, Arthur releases a shakey breath.
Sitting back against a brick wall and using two trash cans to help sheild his body from view. He breathes heavily. Unsure of what to do.
Their cabin would probably be checked. People know about Arthur, or at least, they know Lyle has a son. While Arthur's face ain't ever touched a wanted poster like his pa's, there are still a lot of folk in town who know Arthur has stolen his fair share of valuables.
There's one in his hands right now. A fine brown leather satchel. Slightly worn and some dirt along the seems, but its still a pretty bag. He feels bad about the strap ripping. Not that he planned to return it, but it kinda ruins the purpose of having a satchel if you can't wear it around you.
Looking inside, Arthur almost forgets how to breath. Theres a few loose papers that Arthur can't read, a small coin pouch that is full enough to feed Arthur and his pa for two weeks, there's a small knife thats prettier then any ring or necklace Arthur's ever seen, and most importantly– A wad of cash.
There must be at least fifteen bills in Arthur's hands. Its more money than he'd ever seen.
An idea dawns on him. Can't folk bail others out of jail? He remembers hearing people talk about it in conversations he's overheard in town. Why, he could probably bail Pa out tomorrow morning!
He'll get his pa out of jail with the bills from the satchel and Arthur was sure that he'd make him proud. Then he'll show Pa the coin bag and tell him they can get dinner for the next two weeks with it! Maybe more if they're careful with the spending! He wasnt sure what would come of the knife, but maybe Pa will let Arthur keep it. He'd earned it if you ask him!
He smiled to himself.
Arthur Morgan, the boy who saved his pa from jail!
--------
It was almost dusk and Arthur was struggling to light a fire.
He had made his way back home to the cabin and packed his few belongings he wanted with him for the night. His blanket, a small canteen, and a packet of oatmeal that was hidden in Pa's old jacket. That was a lucky find Arthur thought.
He had wondered around in the woods, not super far from town but too close either. He found nice enough spot. It was flat enough to lay on and there was a spring just a couple feet down from him. Arthur has his blanket out to sleep on tonight, his canteen filled with water from the spring, and now he's realized with the temperature dropping from the setting sun, it's going to be cold without a fire.
He's only seen people do it a handful of times, but it never took them this long. At least it sure didnt feel like it did. The longer Arthur sat here with the sticks in his hands the dumber he felt.
Can't trust nothing with you, boy. The dogs in the streets got more brains than you.
His pa had said this to him not even a week ago. It made him feel so small at the time. He'd been told bury a watch and some rings they'd stolen, so later once nobody would be looking for them, Arthur could dig them back up and Pa could trade them for something of more use. Only problem was Arthur forgot where he had buried them.
Although he swears he did remember. Arthur could've repeated where in his sleep from the amount of times he had to repeat it to his pa. The man had been yelling at him so much for losing them. Exactly between the old oak tree and the house, is what Arthur had kept telling him. Pa made him sit there and dig up the yard that whole afternoon. Sweating in the heat with no clean water to drink from a two month drought that season. He suggested maybe someone had stolen it back from them, or that maybe Pa had already dug it up and had forgotten. Arthur immediately regretting blaming his old man because the slap across his face left a shiny bruise on his cheek for nearly two weeks.
The smell of smoke pulls Arthur out of his thoughts. His eyebrows going high when he sees the small, glowing red marks on the bottom piece of wood. Carefully placing dried grass on top of the wood for kindling and gently blow on it, and more and more smoke begins to raise. It almost caused some alarm in Arthur's mind. It was a lot of smoke and no fire. After another minute of softly blowing against the kindling, he's able to quickly place it in a pile of twigs he had prepared and watch as his very first camp fire grows. He'll have to tell Pa about it tomorrow after he gets him out of jail.
Sitting back down on his blanket, Arthur takes a sip from his canteen. He watches the fire for a bit, as he's worried it'll go out. It will most likely go out later tonight after he falls asleep and doesn't feed it anymore wood. Its not very big so it shouldn't take too long.
Arthur gets bored of the fire after some time and dumps out the satchel to look at everything again. Excitement filling his chest. It was probably the best haul he'll ever do in his life. Running off adrenaline and the element of surprise. He can't wait to show Pa.
------
Arthur couldn't sleep. It was cold and he was hungry and if he were truly to be honest with himself, he was scared. Quite scared, actually.
He had started walking after hearing howling. It wasn't close, least, he doesn't think they were close...and he felt awful. Not just from the cold and hunger, but because he felt bad for his pa. Sleeping in a cell right now, on one of them uncomfortable benches in those rooms with bars for walls. At least Arthur was free to walk outside. Free to breath fresh air. Free to...well, Arthur don't know. There ain't a lot he does know.
Walking down the trail he took to get to his camp spot, Arthur follows it back into town. Mindlessly walking the same paths he cycles through every day. Past the general store, turning left at the bank, cutting across the back porch of the post office. He made sure to be careful avoid the saloon, and any folk wondering out and around it.
Eventually, Arthur was nearing the sheriff's office and neighboring jail house. He circles around it. Trying to see into any windows for any signs of his Pa. His heart thumping hard in his chest every step he takes. He doesn't understand why though, he ain't scared to see his pa. And he ain't scared of no police men.
A sharp and quick whisle from directly ahead of Arthur makes him pause.
"Hey!" A mans harsh whisper echos off the wall. Followed by another whisle.
"Damn it, son! C'mere!"
It's Pa!
Arthur nearly jolts and races to duck down to his knees to see through the barred window where Pa's shadowed face can be seen.
During the whole walk into town he would have said seeing his old man's face in front of him would make him feel better, but now, sitting on the wet ground eye level with him. His face behind bars in the jail house cell–Arthur ain't too sure if anything could.
Pa's left eye is black and underneath the shadow from his hat in the dark–Arthur could barely even make out his face. From what he could tell though, he looked...like his usual self. Just...worse.
Older, more exhausted, and most noticeable to Athur, angry. Staring back at his son in a way that usually told Arthur it was time to leave the old man alone for a while.
He's not sure what to say.
"Uh, look Pa I got th—"
"This is your fault, son. Where were you? You should've come runnin' after me! How'd you expect to get out of this fuckin' shit show without a help?" Lyle's voice slowly raises from a whisper to a near shout.
"-I don't even know why you've bothered to come now. What's your plan, huh? Huh? Are you gonna break me out of here in the dead of night? You gonna bail me out?"
"N-No! I mean–yes!" Arthur goes to show him the satchel, or he tries too. Pa's hand can't fit between the bars of the small window and it's hard to really see much of anything in the night.
"I got this off of the guy you were talkin' too! It's got money, and there's some coi–"
"Oh, you're gonna get me out of jail with your stolen ten bucks? Is that your fuckin plan?" Lyle sneers up at Arthur.
Even though Arthur was standing above his pa–he still shrinks down.
"Shit, I should've just considered a dog instead of you. Least they be loyal to their owners!" He hissed while throwing his fist against the bars.
"Pa, no, look!" He tries to take the clip with money, but his old man keeps talking over his shakey voice.
"Yes! You and your stolen purse! I see." Lyle begins with a higher voice, "–oh, oh here Mr. Sheriff! Money I stole to get my out-lawed pa out the ol' slammer!" His voices echos back through the cell, making Arthur tense at the increase of volume.
Lyle grits his teeth as he continues, this time his voice coming out a calm whisper. "You're dumber then your ma was. Thinkin' life is gonna be easy fuckin' walk through the park. Like a moth that can't get close enough to a damn fire."
He grabs the bars either side of his face, letting out a string of loud swears while harshly rattling the metal as much as it let's him. Once he's done, Pa slowly looks up too Arthur. Meeting his eyes
"You're one stupid son of a bitch, Arthur!" He then laughs. "And you ain't ever been a son of mine."