Chapter Text
The morning sun gleamed into Arthur's makeshift bedroom, composed of the weapons wagon, a tarp, his bed, a table, a chest, and other trinkets. The bright light woke him up, mixed with the commotion of the gang outside.
Arthur sat up on his cot, rolling his shoulders with a grunt and briefly stretching. A bit later, he grabbed a cup of coffee by the pot of incoming food and sat by the main campfire. Bill and Charles were there already. He didn't care much for Bill, nor did Charles. Arthur didn't know that for sure, but based on what he did know about Charles, he could assume that he didn't feel strongly for Williamson.
Bill sat there trying to start a conversation with Charles, but he seemed uninvolved and a bit dispassionate. When Williamson gave up, Charles turned to Arthur and asked, “I was planning to go on a hunting trip. It'd be a few days. If you want to come with me, I plan to leave at noon.” And then Charles went back into his quiet, introverted shell, looking to his own cup of coffee.
Arthur nodded, thinking about it. He planned to get away from camp for a few days just as a break from the chaos. Charles was a pleasant man to hang around, Arthur had thought that ever since they first met. Charles was quiet, but sincere and honest, and Arthur liked those kinds of people. “Don't see why I couldn't?” He replied rather late. His green eyes scanned Charles as they sat near each other.
Charles simply nodded, finishing his cup of coffee and getting up, bringing the empty mug to Pearson's wagon. He then retreated to his tent and prepared his weapons and things that the two of them would need.
Arthur did a few things, like write in his journal, tease John, and a few chores. A little bit before the planned time to leave, he scrambled about, readying his things. A few minutes after that, Charles walked to Arthur's tent and leaned against the table. “You ready?” he questioned, handing Arthur a quiver of arrows in case the blonde man ran out.
Arthur merely nodded as they walked side by side to their horses. Along the journey, there were a few words spoken, otherwise it was a peaceful silence. The lack of words was different but much needed for the both of them, as most of the other people in the gang would never stop rambling on.
“Where are we huntin’ again?” Arthur inquired, riding behind Charles. His hand came and patted the side of his large, work horse's neck.
“Just a bit north of Ambarino. There's a lot of deer and elk there.” The other man replied, looking back at Arthur. His brown eyes followed Arthur's hand as he showed affection to his horse.
And it was generally silent for the whole ride there. Charles found a nice spot. A stream was next to the camp, the woods for hunting weren't too far, it wasn't too far from the trail but still far enough for it to be secluded and peaceful. The canopy of trees shaded the area where the two men set their tents up. Small speckles of light shown in like stars in the night sky on the lush grass.
“I was planning on doing a little bit of hunting. Even if we only find something small for tonight.” Charles spoke up. Arthur forgot that people could talk, the ride was so quiet. He just nodded and handed Charles his bow and arrows. The green eyed man continued to set up camp, preparing the fire and getting proper wood for it.
It wasn't too long later Charles came back with two white tail rabbits. He quickly began skinning them and taking the meat out. Arthur had finished setting up their camp, though it wasn't too great.
“Stew I'm guessing?” Arthur asked, turning to look at the other man. Charles nodded and finished preparing the rabbits. He brought them over to the pot, throwing the chunks into the brown broth. Potatoes and carrots floated on the liquid, steam rolled into the cold, evening air.
The sky was dark, stars twinkled in the vast space, the half moon illuminated the land just enough for navigation. The air had been nipping at the skin of both Arthur and Charles, so they had been passing a flask of whiskey between each other and sitting next to the hot flame.
The blonde man looked into the hot, red light, getting his boot awfully close to the fire. “It's nice gettin’ away from camp.” Arthur spoke gently to the other man.
“I agree.” Charles replied, looking into the eyes of Arthur. He stirred the stew with a ladle absent-mindedly, then averting his gaze. Both of them knew it was going to be a quiet night, not much talking.
Throughout the night, there were a few half asked attempts at conversations coming from Arthur, but they never turned into anything substantial. The two of them ate their food and fell asleep with ease.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
The cold morning air nipped at Arthur’s nose, waking him up. The fresh breeze filled their lungs as he exited his respective tent. When he left, he found Charles sitting by the flame, sharpening his tools. The scent of brewwing coffee and frost permeated the air.
“When are we gonna leave?” murmured Arthur. He wanted enough time to prepare, but was open to any time.
Charles thought for a moment, then spoke up, “Noon. What time did you want to leave?” his face turned to look at the other man, standing across from him.
“Noon sounds good.” Arthur replied, rolling his shoulders. He was basically ready, but he needed some time to wake up, and for that coffee to be done.
A few hours later, Charles gripped his bow tightly in his large hand. Arthur slung his own weapon around his shoulder as they both approached their horses, hopping on the saddles. Their horses trotted as they approached the dense forests just north of the Ambarino mountains. The only sounds were the whistling of birds, scuttling of small animals, the clanking sound of the horses hooves, and the breathing coming from the two men. Once they reached their hunting point, they hitched their horses on trees.
“Hope we can find more than yesterday.” uttered Arthur as they walked down a faint trail through the woods.
Charles grunted and responded in a hushed tone, “Sure hope so. Two rabbits barely fed us.” as they carried on through the woods, keeping their eyes open for any animals.
A bit later, they came across a deer. Well- Arthur did, it was a buck. The blonde man hid behind a bush, steadying his bow. He took a sharp, deep breath through his teeth and let go of the string, sending the arrow through the air. The head on the arrow pieced the buck's neck, but didn't kill it. It ran a few feet, then dropped, squirming on the dirt and grass.
Arthur approached the wounded animal and winced, “Damn it.” He mumbled in a tone of irritation and empathy for the animal. The buck scraped Arthur's arm with his antlers, leaving a shallow cut that bled a bit. Arthur grunted at the stinging from his arm, but calmed the buck down and put him out of his misery, stabbing him in the stomach.
Arthur whistled for his horse and when it came, he picked the carcass up and stowed it on the back of his shire. He dug around in his horse's saddle bag and found a bandage and some alcohol to clean the cut. Charles found his own deer. They met up on the trail, trotting back to their set up by the nearby lake. By that point, the sun was lowering in the sky, but it remained light enough to find their way back.
While riding, Arthur made little grunts of pain and tried to hide his arm a few times. Charles finally inquired, “Are you alright, Arthur?”
The other man shrugged with a humorous exhale, “This big ol’ guy I found hurt me!” Arthur said randomly, turning his head to look at Charles, his hand patting the carcass behind him.
The long haired man remained quiet for a moment before speaking up, “That ain't good. Did you clean it? The wound." He tilted his head towards the injured arm. Arthur nodded, turning his head forward again, to steady his horse down the trail.
When they finally made it to their small campsite, Charles set up the flame and Arthur skinned the deer, hanging the fur up. He separated the meat from the bones, tendons, and veins. Whilst he was preparing the meat, Charles got the vegetables and broth.
“I can't cook too well, what about you?” Arthur spoke, trying to spark a conversation. It was quiet and a bit tense, but also soothing.
“Mm, me neither.” Charles replied in monotone as he kept peeling the wild carrot he had in his hand. Arthur just went quiet, knowing the conversation would get stale or go nowhere. If it did keep going, it would be forced and awkward.
After the food was prepared, they both scooped themselves a bowl. The shiny brown broth had chunks of orange and tan floating around in it. They sat across from each other, looking around.
After a few minutes of silence, Charles stirred the stew in his bowl around and finally said, “How's the cut?”
Arthur shrugged, “Eh, ain't too bad- just a little sting.” The blonde confessed. He didn't want Charles to care too much about his injury as it wasn't a big deal.
“Good.” The long haired man replied quietly.
“Y'know… I feel like Dutch has changed over the years. I know you've only been with us for not even a year, but I bet you can still tell.” Arthur slowly uttered with hesitation. It was rather random, but Arthur wanted to get it out sooner or later. Charles simply looked up at the other man, but remained silent.
Arthur continued, “I think Micah has to do with it, or he's having a mid-life crisis, I don't know.” and ending with a chuckle, even though he didn't find it too funny.
Charles replied with, “I don't think anyone but Dutch likes Micah. He's been in the gang longer than I have, though.” He was quite monotonous.
“It's makin’ me question why I'm still with these people. I guess… They're like family now. John's like my brother, Dutch and Hosea are like my dad's.” the green eyed man went back so speaking. Charles didn't see Arthur serious and a bit emotional like this too often.
It took a moment for Charles to reply, but he did in the end. “It's up to you, y'know? If you wanna leave. I never had much of a family, so I can't really say I know what you mean.”
“Yeah, I get it. It ain't that big of a deal, just things changin.’” Arthur made his finishing statement. Otherwise, the rest of the night was quiet between them, exchanging words when needed. They went to sleep on their own time.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
It was the third and final day of their trip, and so they briefly went hunting once more, bringing home a couple of deer for the camp soup. The trip was a nice getaway even if Arthur got hurt. It let both of them escape from the noise of the Van Der Linde gang.
On the trek home, Arthur found himself pondering. It had been a good few minutes before he decided to say anything to Charles about it. “Hey, Charles?” He spoke softly, but loud enough to get the other man’s attention. Arthur had been looking at Charles and he witnessed the brown eyed man return his gaze. “I’ve been ridin’ with Dutch for nearly if damn well not 20 years at this point. I think… I think my times comin’ to a close. I’m gettin’ old and this gang has affected me a lot in my life- both good and bad.”
”Whether you leave or not is up to you.” Charles articulated when Arthur was looking for a response.
”I know, I know. It’s just… I could’ve settled down and started a family twice in my life. The gang has ruined both opportunities. An’- you know this already, but the age of gunslingin’ and outlawing is coming to an end whether we like it or not. The law's been doubling down on us for years, plus it's the turn of the new century.” Arthur kept rambling, soon realizing he might have been oversharing, or at least talking a lot. Charles took note of his yapping.
Charles blinked a few times, thinking about what to say. “If you actually left, I’d be willing to go with you. It isn’t that I don’t like this gang, I just don’t feel… strongly towards anyone. John and his family are tolerable, Sadie is alright. Hosea is a kind soul as well.” He answered, feeling his lips curl into a gentle smile.
When they returned to Horseshoe Overlook, their heads already began to throb and ache from the noise and commotion of the camp.