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Arthur Morgan practically slid into the corridor, pulling his hat down to cover more of his face as he fumbled in his pockets for a cigarette. Watch your breathing, watch your posture, the best place to hide is in plain sight. He struck a match right as the cops ran by, shouting at each other with guns raised.
“Where the hell’d he go?”
“He must’ve taken that turn up the road.”
“Goddammit–!”
He held the match steady, an inch away from the end of the dart, frozen in position until the thundering footsteps of the police faded away. With a few more precious seconds on his hands, he let out the breath he’d been holding, letting it extinguish the flame just before it singed his fingertips. He flicked the used wood aside, flicked the brim of his hat up just a touch, and flicked his gaze over to the other man leaned against the opposite wall of the corridor.
The stranger met his eyes with surprise, lips parting stupidly as he seemed to fish for the right words. Arthur pushed himself off the wall slow, took the two short steps needed to cross, and tilted his head as he spoke, low and threatening. “You didn’t see nothin’, did you, friend?”
The man shook his head. “N-no, no, I didn’t see anything.”
“But on the off chance y’did,” His head gestured down the corridor, out to the courtyard, “Then it seems that wicked outlaw went thataway, right?”
“That way, yes, yes, he went that way, I-I-I saw him round the corner and head north.”
Arthur nodded, stepping back and smiling around the cigarette still held between his teeth. “Good, I’m real glad we’re in agreement.” He reached up, tipping the brim of his hat before turning towards the nearby stairs. “Good day t’you.”
“G-good day to you, too.” The man slinked further back into the corridor as Arthur left, no doubt more than ready to leave the area and busy himself with something less likely to get him killed.
In all Arthur’s time wandering the wilderness and travelling around towns, there was only one place that had seemed likely to house an art exhibition–Saint Denis–and with just a little bit of poking around, he’d managed to find one. It was a pain working with the prissy rich folk, getting this damn show running, but he had his eyes set on a prize and no snobby asshole or bribed lawman was going to get in his way.
It felt like ages since he’d last seen Albert Mason, and those last words that fell from his lips had been ringing in Arthur’s ears ever since. A gallery, a show, a place to display those photos he’d worked so hard to take; Arthur had been asking about it any time he stopped somewhere new, to the point where a few of the ladies back at camp had taken to teasing him for it, calling him cultured, sophisticated now, soft. They all meant it in jest, but there was truth to it–at least that last bit; he had grown soft, just barely, right around the edges, right where his rough and tumble need for freedom met with gentle hands on his arms and the desire for companionship. It was rubbing off of him, calluses in warm sand.
He stowed his cigarette and climbed the stairs two at a time, only stalling a moment when he reached the top and locked eyes with the gallery attendant. The man sighed, gestured towards the opened doors of the gallery room, voice dripping with sarcasm so heavy you’d think the words were pulled out of him like teeth. “Welcome in, I hope you enjoy the exhibit.”
Arthur’s brows picked up a bit, confused but polite enough to not inquire further as he nodded and moved through the doorway. The first room was small, a door to his right leading into a much longer hall where more people seemed to be congregating–not that this room didn’t have its fair share of folks, crowded around sculptures with champagne in hand, murmuring amongst themselves about the character of each piece. Arthur had half a mind to roll his eyes but before he had the chance his attention was drawn to the wall to his left.
He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face as he spotted the first photograph, nor could he stop his feet from carrying him over to stand before it, the only admirer of the pack of wolves ready to pounce. “I’ll be damned.” He muttered to himself, thumbs catching on his belt as he both admired and reminisced.
“It’s truly amazing how well that one turned out, isn’t it?” Arthur didn’t need to look up to recognize the man who came to stand beside him, his grin somehow growing wider with each of his words. “At the time it seemed like a miracle that I hadn’t wound up their lunch, though these days I’d say the real miracle was how stunning the composition is. The rest was just the thrilling work of man.”
“Mr. Mason.” He greeted, warmly.
“Mr. Morgan.” Albert’s greeting was equally warm, drawing Arthur’s attention away from the photo and finally meeting the gaze of the man beside him. They seemed to stare for both eternity and hardly a second, both men clearly pleased with this meeting. Albert was the one to break their pleasant silence. “I’m amazed you’re here.”
“Practically aged thirty years tryin’ to find the damn place, let alone get it open.”
Albert hummed, hands catching in front of himself. “So it was your kindness yet again that helped me finally get into a show. I’d been waiting for ages for the rest of the slots to fill.”
Arthur huffed, shaking his head and letting his attention turn back to the wolves.
“Well? What do you think?”
“Can’t say yet,” He gestured vaguely with his hand to the rest of the room, “You caught me lookin’ at the first one.”
“Ah! Yes, yes, would be hard to judge based on just the one, hm? Shall we look at the rest then?”
Arthur nodded, following Albert’s quick steps to the next photo to their right. This one had caught the eye of a different pair of guests, a woman and a man, the former of which seemed captivated by the piece while the latter swirled his champagne with mild disinterest.
“It’s practically unfathomable how close they are.” She spoke softly to the man beside her. “I’ve heard others say that wild horses are near impossible to get close to.”
“That’s why all of these must have been staged. This one especially–all he would have had to do is take the saddles off and tell the horses to run. Wild, pfft, there’s no way.” The man shook his head, eyes firmly planted on his drink.
“Either of you ever ridden a horse before?” Arthur raised a brow at their skepticism. “Wild ones are skittish, sure, but they’re much more scared of a movin’ man than a still one.”
The woman turned her head to face the two of them, a spark of recognition lighting her features. “Oh! You must have been the consult on these then, weren’t you?”
Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “Consult?”
“Sure, sure. Mr. Morgan here was a great help, very knowledgeable man.” Albert’s quick to praise him, gesturing with a hand to the photo before them. “You’re quite right about their distance, they were practically specks on the horizon before Mr. Morgan offered to herd them in closer for me.”
“Oh wow!” She seemed impressed, looking back at the photo and smiling warmly. Recognition seemed to hit her again as she stepped in closer, leaning towards the left side of the image. “Would that horse there be you then, Mr. Morgan? I wasn’t quite sure what it was doing back there, it was a bit too far to be part of the group, but I suppose that blur between the horse and the tree leaves–”
“Why yes, that does appear to be him!” Albert leaned in with her, a hand resting on Arthur’s arm. “I’d hardly realized, I was so focused on the composition of the other horses.”
“A second feature in this collection, what an honor.” The woman locked eyes with Arthur, smiling at his confused expression for just a moment before the man beside her was beckoning for them to move along. “Ah, my impatient husband, if you’ll excuse us.”
Both men nodded at the pair as they moved into the next room, the action brief before Arthur turned to Albert. “Second feature?”
“Shall we look at the next one then?” Albert was clearly ignoring the question, hand sliding to the back of Arthur’s arm, ushering him along.
The third picture hung on the adjacent wall was the clearest of the three Arthur had seen so far, so much closer than he had figured the two had gotten to the alligator in question. The scales along its face were practically visible. “Wow…” He breathed out, previous question lost in his wonder.
“This one is stunning, too. Honestly, all of the photos I submitted here turned out quite fantastic.”
“I’d say…” Arthur nodded in agreement, “Especially with the boat rockin’ the way it was.”
“You have an incredibly steady hand with those oars you know.” Albert grinned. “If I’d been on my own for this, well, I think we both know how that would have turned out.”
“There’d be no gallery at all–and that’d be quite a shame.”
“Quite a shame indeed.”
Arthur turned away from the wall, looking along the rest of the length and scanning the room as he spoke. “You manage to get that eagle shot before you–” His words caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the photo across the room from the two of them. Arthur paced over, side-stepping fellow patrons with mumbled politeness, until he was stood before the final photo in the exhibit, a portrait of himself. “Wha–”
“Well, you know,” Albert had followed, finding his place beside Arthur once again, hands fretting before himself as he spoke, “I was photographing–”
“When did you take this?” Arthur’s eyes were locked ahead, scanning the tree line, his own features, trying to pinpoint when this photo was shot.
“This one? Oh, um…”
“This one? As in there’s more?”
“Well!” He sighed. “Mr. Morgan, can you really blame me? I’m a photographer–an artist, a capturer of the beauty of nature, I could hardly pass up an opportunity to–”
“Then what the hell drove you to go takin’ pictures of me?” His eyes lift from the portrait, confusion on his face evident as he turned his head.
“It’s like I was saying, look,” Albert gestured to the portrait, “My camera was set up already, the light was hitting your face just right, the cover of the trees from behind, it all lit you up like fine art, Mr. Morgan–and I hadn’t even asked you to pose.”
Arthur scoffed, shaking his head, lips parting in rebuttal that’s cut off before he gets the chance to try.
“Oh hush, your clear lack of self-esteem aside, I’m sure you’ve noticed others find you quite attractive, yes? I’m sure you have women practically falling at your feet, do you not?”
“Well–”
“My point exactly: If I, a humble artist, have set out to capture the beauty of nature to share with the world, and am set before the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen, am I not to turn my camera to it? Am I to tear down and say ‘well, surely someone with the goal of capturing sunsets will come along sometime’–no! Absolutely not! I take the shot!”
Arthur’s fallen quiet at the passionate speech, eyes still scanning over the picture. Albert clears his throat, his hand resting on one of Arthur’s crossed arms.
“And when I saw how well this one turned out, well, my mission was to preserve America’s greatest predators before they all go extinct, yes?” His voice softened as he continued speaking, lowering to the same murmur the other patrons shared, and he let his own gaze rest on the portrait as well. “I’m sure you’ve seen the signs–the era of civilization overtaking. I figured if there were any outlaw worthy of being immortalized as one of the greatest predators of the west, it should be the man who stopped and came to my aid time and time again–who has likely shown the same kindness to countless others despite what reputation others much like him seem to carry.”
Arthur chewed at his lip, shaking his head slightly, knowing better than to protest verbally. He sighed, leaning in a bit closer to Albert, taking comfort in the way the man rubbed his arm. “I s’pose.”
The silence that filled between them was slightly less comfortable this time, just enough that Albert spoke up again. “Well, I suppose we have only looked at my own pieces thus far, shall we take a peek at the rest of the gallery?”
“I think I’ve seen what I was after.”
Albert laughed, letting his hand drop off Arthur’s arm and watching as the arms uncross and fall with him. “Not the type to enjoy this sort of sophisticated expressionism then, hm?”
Arthur shook his head, smile reappearing on his face. “No, no, not for me.”
“Then what do you say we celebrate the showing of this little adventure of ours, yes? Perhaps you’d like a tour of my studio, a round of drinks on me. How long are you staying in town?”
“Long as I can manage, I s’pose. I’ve…” He considered his wording for a moment, scratching the back of his neck, “Made myself a few unfortunate enemies while doin’ all this, not sure it’d be a good idea to stick around me too long.”
“I see. Then we lay low, we stay in, perhaps I’ll find myself a new project to begin on by the time you decide to leave and we can run for it together.” They stand shoulder to shoulder, staring straight ahead, Albert’s fingers brushing against Arthur’s.
“Y’know, I think I may like that.”