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Leaving Colter in those goddamned frost-bitten mountains, the Van der Linde gang looked worse for wear. The caravan was forced to change direction to the west instead of the east that Dutch had originally planned, thanks to a gang of O’Driscoll making camp in an old logging camp. Taking on the O’Driscoll camp? Without Arthur Morgan? It would have ended in a bloodbath. The gang had already lost so many people, the Calendar boys, Jenny, Arthur…it was best to keep away and take another path. Hosea slumped into Silver Dollars saddle, he didn’t speak much anymore, not like anyone asked. Dutch Van der Linde paid little to no attention to Hosea’s input anymore. Cold to his old bones, the wet freezing clothes stuck to his skin as he rode behind John and Abigail's wagon. The slush fell from the sky just to make a miserable journey unbearable. The yips and growls of a pack of starving coyotes were following the gang. drawn to the smell of blood from Hosea’s youngest son’s wounds. just as hungry as the Van Der Linde gang was. Hosea pulled his scarf around his neck tighter, burying his nose in the thick wool. First, it was that stagecoach job up near the town of Strawberry that Micah went on with Arthur. It should have been a straightforward job, one Arthur had done many times before. knocking over a stagecoach. Hosea didn’t worry, he had slipped a chocolate bar and a ginseng elixir into Arthur’s bag and told him to get some money ruffling his hair. Micah came back a week later with two saddle bags full of money, loudly bragging about how much money he had gotten away with. At first Hosea didn’t worry. Arthur had a habit of galavanting around the country. His eldest son had a love for exploring and nature. admiring flowers, animals and little treasures that were worthless but impressive nonetheless. time went by like it should, a month had passed. Micha claimed to Hosea that the cow-poke would come home eventually but… Hosea had sent John, Javiar, and even Bill after his son… but everyone came up empty handed. This wasn't like Arthur, just leaving like this. Hosea began to worry, it wasn't like it was when John had up and left, being scared of being a husband along with being a father. Hosea at least didn’t mourn for his youngest son. He knew John was alive and well if not scared out of his mind. Shaking his head, trying to clear his poor taxed mind. Hosea looked to the wagon in front of him, John was bundled up in the bed of the wagon like a squirrel in a nest. face stitched up but healing, John was lucky surviving the wolf attack, Javier getting to his youngest son in the nick of time. he coughed into his hand gripping Silver dollars reigns in his other hand. Secondly, Dutch and Micah got a bee in their bonnet about that god damned riverboat, an obvious lure for robbers. ignoring Hosea’s profitable real estate scam he got cooking for cheap fast blood money. Causing the gang to flee Blackwater and leave behind the money they so desperately needed. What Hosea lost his eldest son over… Micah riding proud on the back of poor baylock, rode up to the party. “This way! Just down this trail leads into West Elisabeth.” He called out in that annoying swagger that grated on Hosea’s poor nerves. “About to be out of the damn snow!” He cackled but not earning a sound for the gang. “Very good son! Can feel that sunshine already.” Dutch praised Micah. Hosea snap his head up and found his voice. “Dutch Van der Linde, he ain’t no son of mine.” His voice boomed like thunder startling the poor gang, all heads swishing back to one furious Hosea Matthew’s. Dutch was stunned into silence for a moment, having to swallow and laugh. “Easy old girl, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just a slip of the tongue.” He held his hands up trying to sooth the older man, that damn cigar still in hand. “Our sons, our sons Dutch.” Hosea’s hands gripped the leather reigns as his hands shook with rage. “Both abandoned by this-“ ”hey old man! Don’t be blaming this on me!” Micah growled while moving Baylock behind The count. Hiding behind Dutch like a spoiled child needing a good spanking. coward. “Hosea, Old girl. Calm down now-“ Dutch added. Hosea turned Silver dollar, to the left now with a sharp pull. “Abigail, y’all come with me. I ain’t leavin my son with these people.” He shot the young woman a look who nodded. “Anyone else? Come on!” He ordered heading down another trail, leaving the gang finally. Rage turned into tears, Hosea wiped at his eyes as he rode. Not bothering to look back now. Dutch has what he wanted. Loyal mindless knights for his round table. Hosea just wanted his sons. “Hosea-“ Abigail called out. Giving a nod of his head showing he heard her. “Yes, my dear?” He called out not looking back. He didn’t want to show the young woman how deeply he was hurting. “Where we goin?” She asked softly, not wanting to push that man on what just happened. “Home.” Hosea replied, keeping his head forward. The sun slowly disappeared the farther down the trail they rode. the cold hard ground warming away into tall lush green grass. hardly passed lunchtime judging by the sun. when they rode into the green lush valley. a nice spring-like breeze in the green valley, full of purple sage flowers blowing in the breeze. Deer, elk, all sorts of wildlife. Hosea watched a rabbit run by as he started to notice little groups of plants in the tall grass of growing, ginseng, lilly root flowers and big berry bushes. Raspberries, blackberries, even blueberries too. This was a nice area, surprised there weren't folks living in the area? If memory served this area was pure wild, hidden in the shadows of the mountains. Hosea could remember riding with Bessie all those years ago, talking about settling in an area like this. Possible children and the dreams of a young married couple. Bessie teasing Hosea about making her a collar with something pretty on it. A covered wagon with two big oxen and starting a fresh new life together… Life simply changed into another season like it dose, times got hard. Money got tight, Bessie fell ill. Hosea needed quick money and Dutch had come to help him. Just one last job…. Hosea sighed, shaking his head, what was it about long rides that brought back painful memories? Hosea was blaming those purple sage flowers swaying in the wind. The same one Bessie had favored. Looking ahead now, Hosea spotted a person with a horse just near the little stream. A fawn and white mustang mare, following a man to a berry bush. Nipping at the man’s poor hat, making the man laugh and reaching out with his right hand to stop her, petting the mare’s face lovingly. A familiar laugh. Like a ghost of the past seemed to rattle poor Hosea to his core, slipping off of Silver Dollar. Making the horse neigh in annoyance. “Hosea!” Javiar called out in shock, getting tangled in his own saddle in the hurry to get to the old man. Boots hardly touched the ground as the old man bolted to the stranger, wheezing and coughing in his hurry but not stopping until he got to the man in that ratty old gambler's hat. “Ar-Arthur!!” Hosea bellowed like a war cry, falling into the man's arms. The man caught Hosea, one arm around his chest to support the wheezing man. The other arm was around Hosea but there was a lesser grip, like it was weaker. Head at the man’s shoulder, Hosea took the person in. He was in a deep green poncho with a pattern of triangles , hiding a large beer belly and full chest. A layer of healthy fat now but no doubt the man was strong. There was a mating collar around his neck, a sign that someone was joined body and soul to someone special. deeper than marriage, a soul bond almost. common in fairytales more than real life but sometimes folks still bounded like this. fine dark brown leather with three glittering stones clustered together in the middle. In the center of the cluster was an opal: the size of Hosea’s thumb. The start of something new, beloved. Moonstone was on the left of the cluster.: new beginning, supports new mothers during child rearing. Acceptance. A deep purple azurite was on the right.: protection, awareness and understanding. The three stones were protected by a pair of shining panther teeth and backed with gold. Hosea prayed that this stranger was Arthur, someone found his beloved son. Someone who loved his son so much, that person had kept him, spoiled him in ways that Hosea never could. Made Arthur Morgan into a good honest man. holding his breath, gathering his courage. Hosea looked up into the face of his beloved son. Arthur Morgan, smiling down at Hosea holding him, looked like he was about to cry himself. Arthur almost looked younger, happier. Same crooked noses and cocky smile but a lot of those worry lines that plagued Arthur, had mostly faded away. His hair was long, curling at the ends under his hat, face clean shaven too. “My word boy! been gone almost two years!” Hosea chided hands gasping Arthur’s shirt tightly. “speak ta me will ya Son!?” he demanded. Arthur nodded but in a weak voice. “Howdy pa, it’s been ta long.” His voice was damaged but healing, at least Arthur could speak now. Feeling his bad knee starting to hurt now, Arthur moved them to the patchwork quilt he had laid out. “Sorry, I get tired easily now..” he apologized to Hosea, moving oddly as if he couldn’t get onto the ground so easily anymore. He was stiff but practiced like he had to re-learn his movements. “Hosea?!” Abigail with John, Jack and Javiar hurrying over together. “Easy boy, what the hell happened to ya?” Hosea helped Arthur sit down on the quilt. He looked to Abigail and waved her over. “right here my dear, just…found something I lost.” Marching through the tall grass, holding her skirts as best she could. Abigail approached with her little pack behind her. She was the alpha wolf after all. “What could you have los-“ Abigail’s words died in her mouth, a hand covered her mouth and tears started to prick at her eyes. “Arthur? That you?” she held her hands close to her chest. “Brother! We thought you died.” Javiar fumbled out, pushing up his hat to look the outlaw over his mouth hanging open. John hardly raised his head, feeling stronger knowing his brother was there. “What happened Arthur? two years? aint like you to up and leave without a reason.” He wheezed out. “Yeah it’s me.” Arthur greeted his voice, surprising the group. Softer and weaker, still manly like it always had been but much different. “should ask you the same thing Marston.” Arthur reached up with his left hand to push his hair back, it was odd his fingers didn’t move but there was a tight metal bracelet cuff with a ‘u’ like hook on it. Hosea felt his worry grow, what had happened to his strong son? Jack, ignoring the adults like usual, ran to his favorite Uncle gripping the man in a tight hug. Giving Arthur a kiss, blinking when he couldn’t hug like they used too. Jack couldn’t get as close as he wanted. Jack always loved Uncle Arthur’s big arms and soft chest. almost as safe as mama’s arms. Something was in the way? “Uncle Arthur, why do you have a belly like uncle?” Jack asked in confusion, feeling the man’s large belly feeling the movement in awe. Arthur looked to the worried faces of his family, giving a look that said he would explain later. But for Jack, he looked down at the boy and nodded with a smile. “My husband. Give me some fruit to eat. Ate a seed.” “Husband? I didn’t expect you to go for men, brother?” Javiar teased before not understanding what Arthur’s saying was suggesting. The desperado’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What seed could have done this?” He gestured to Arthur’s swollen state. Hosea wheezed into the crook of his arm, the shock making his lungs contract. “Y-you married? You have a baby coming?!” He got out through coughs. “Two years! I thought I lost you, boy! Dead even! Why didn’t you come back?!” He demanded, tears pricking at his eyes. Javiar looked more confused, not by the fact that Arthur was pregnant. more of the strange saying. Looking down in his shame, Arthur fiddled with the hem of his poncho. “Was hurt, real bad. I was asleep for two weeks straight. Can’t really use my left hand no more, just recently healed enough ta talk again. Walk without a cane too. Can’t ride in a saddle to long anymore. I got about a hour in ta saddle before I start hurtin’. Arthur worrying the fabric in his hands more. “Charles, my husband.. is’a saint of a man. findin’ me ina ditch near Strawberry. patchin’ me up…took care of me. hell had ta tie me ta the damn bed to keep me from hurttin’ myself by mounting up.” Arthur laughed softly, still such a nervous man, even after all this time. “I wanted to send a letter but the mailman wouldn't allow Charles in ta help me. it was about two months inta my healing and I couldn’t speak.” taking a breath, Arthur looked up to Hosea.the same way he would look at Hosea when he was a boy. “I ain’t run off…I’mma so sorry Pa.” he said quietly. “But I can’t, do what needs ta be done. I can’t hunt, can’t pull a gun, can’t chop wood, can hardly ride a damn horse.” He rubbed his eyes trying not to cry. “Dutch would probably put’me down like a horse witha broken leg.” Hosea pulled Arthur close to him in a tight hug. “easy, ya are my son. hell I would have shot Dutch myself before he even thought of putting a hand on ya..” he swore to Arthur. Arthur hugged his Pa for a good while, gathering his emotions with a sigh. pulling back now and taking in the state of his family. Arthur’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “….all of yall are so thin? dirty too. was the gang doing that badly?” Arthur asked, tilting his head. “I’mma bein’ rude ain’t I? Still ain’t use ta having a home ta be all welcoming like.”Arthur softly admitted while adjusting his hat once again. “why dontcha come home with me? get some food in ya and clean clothes on ya.” with a click of Arthur’s tongue, Peaches his mare. mosey over to her owner and allowed Arthur to use her as a support to get up. Arthur’s bracelet with a ‘u’ hook on it, hooked onto a metal ring that dangled from her saddle and Arthur was up on his feet. “I’mma so hungry I can eat a bison!” Jack squealed, smiling when Arthur picked up the boy with his strong right arm and placed him on Peaches' back before he gathered up the quilt. “a whole bison? Uncle Charles will be so impressed. he is hunting, let's hope he and Eagle flys finds something good.” Tucking the quilt into the saddle bag, Arthur with the help of his brace pulled himself up into his saddle. “ya’ll follow me, my home ain’t ta far away.” Arthur gustred up ahead with a tilt of his head. Abigail finally spoke. “that'sa mighty generous Arthur, but won’t we be too much for your homestead?” she pointed out, “with the baby coming and winter…it’ll put stress on your homestead.” “I still can’t believe you're alive.” John admitted now sitting back in the wagon. “I have some money, we can pay.” Javiar offered, earning annoyed looks from Hosea and Abigail.The desperado looked between the three annoyed people in surprise “….what? I simply kept my share.” …..right. “ya’ll will see, come on.” Arthur waited for Hosea to mount up. mounted up on Silver Dollar, Hosea rode beside him. just watching his son, afraid that Arthur would disappear before his eyes. it was strange to see Arthur look so happy and at ease. reminded Hosea when Arthur was a boy learning to read with him and Dutch. eyes taking in Arthur, Hosea couldnt help but to look at Arthur's large belly and back to his son's face. “This Charles feller, is he good to you? didn’t force himself on ya or nothing? how far along are ya anyways?” He gestured to Arthur’s belly. “until the baby comes.”' Hosea couldn’t help but to worry about the type of person that married his eldest son. now if he could get his youngest son to marry… Arthur snorted a smile tugging at his lips and gave a small laugh. “nah, ain’t nothin’ like that. Charles is’a good man, a kind man. better than I deserve. just kinda happened? we get along.” he promised. “sometimes I think I’mma gonna wake up in that ditch and all this is’a dream.” Arthur looked down at his belly bashfully, “any day now? should have come last week. Been taking big spoonfuls of caster oil, ain’t done nothin’ but make ma feel sick.” ”…..and Charles let ya go out here, alone?” Hosea stiffened, shoulders back already reaching for his shotgun. Arthur was in that delicate state? “well…I kinda talk’d him into it. said baby wasn’t comin’ and Eagle flys needed his help on this hunt. promised I would stay close ta home.” ducked his head looking sheepish now. “said I would go ta the stream, pick some blackbarried and draw a little. He wants me to rest so no chorin’. I’mma about ta pull out ma hair. still ain’t used ta not working.” Hosea sighed and shook his head, gripping his reins as he looked to his son now. “What happened Arthur.” Hosea demanded now. Arthur was quiet for a moment, giving a pleading look to Hosea. “Please, not now, Jack is with us. here a little later tonight I will tell ya all everything.” Arthur promised before adjusting his hat and looked back to the road. The small party rode in the soft quite, Arthur leading away just like he had always done in the gang. suddenly everything seemed a bit better, they weren't gonna die in the snow. no wolves attacking, full bellies and no O’Driscoll attacking them. This ride was almost pleasurable at the leisurely pace. coming up to the goodsized ranch, the big wooden gates welcoming them. The sign read ‘Sage Stream Ranch.” Javiar was the first one to speak. “Ey’ I know this place!” Javiar blinked in supirse. “Hanging dog ranch, this is that big O’Driscoll camp?! no way you’re with one of them are ya, Brother?” he asked Arthur. “I came right past here a few weeks ago! right up under my nose Arthur.” Arthur shook his head no. “naw, we cleared’em out with ma snipper riffle off of a clif. well…Charles pulled the trigger I aimed the rifle. now its my home. paid the twenty dollars and now its all legal like” Arthur informed in his now quite voice. Riding into the large barn, Arthur stiffened at a hard mean kick, rubbing his belly for a moment. trying to sooth the kicks of his excited baby. “easy there, not till daddy gets home.” he reminded his baby, Arthur couldn't help but to smile a bit. Hard to stay mad at his little one. Arthur talking to his belly caught Jack’s intrest once more, the little boy looked up at his favorite uncle. “who ya talkin’ too?” Jack asked with a tilt of his head. “ma baby.” Arthur with a bit of effort dismounted off his horse, before reaching up with his strong arm scooped Jack off Peaches. “can the baby hear in there?” Jack, watching his clever uncle with his left hand brace and hook, was able to unsaddle Peaches. Brush her coat and pick her hooves before allowing Peaches into her stall. Arthur started to reply but stopped, rubbing at the scar on his chin in thought. “rightfully? I ain’t sure. I mean…the baby is in me…baby tends ta move when I speak to it.” he gave a small smile to Jack. “I like ta think so? likes it when their daddy speaks to them too.” he ruffled Jack's hair before walking out to the wagon and started to help untack the horses. Arthur hardly reached out for the reigns, only to be shooed away by Hosea and Abigail while Javiar helped John off the wagon. “Don’t you dare! Should be off your feet as it is!” Abigail fused, making Arthur take a step back holding his hands up. Jack looked confused tilting his head. “Why’s that?” He looked up at the adults. Arthur took a step back, not having the energy for this explanation. “I’lla get the bathwater goin’.” Horses settled and fed, people bathed and dressed in clean clothes. The little pack was doing a lot better, John’s wounds where tended to and bandages changed. Hosea was sitting in a big wingback chair while petting a fat orange and black cat. stirring a pot of vegetable soup on the wood burning stove, Arthur snacked on thin slices of pemmican. Slipping Jack little bits of his treat while dinner was being prepared. Pemmican was lean bison meat dried in honey covered in crushed berries and nuts. The sweet and salty meat was all the baby craved. Fry bread, and fire roasted salmon that Arthur prepared. Setting the table with mixed matched plates and forks, Arthur blinked at all the odd looks he was getting. “What?” ”who knew you could be so…wifey…” John mumbled sitting at the head of the table like he owned the place. “Shut up Marston.” Arthur attempted to growl, cheeks red as cherries. ”get ya ass up, Charles is due ta be home soon.” Arthur froze for a moment. “Arthur…” Abigail started, staring down at the man now. hand on his belly when a pain shot through him…then relaxed when it stopped. “…sorry I got worked up.” He apologized to his baby. “Sit your ass down, fussing at John like that?! That’s my job.” Abigail swished passed him, making sure Arthur rested. “John, ya heard the man. Big daddy is due ta be home. No man wants ta see someone else sitting at his spot at the table.” She helped John into the next seat over. Sitting down now, Arthur almost rolled his eyes. “Thank ya Mrs. Marston.” John’s head snapped up at that. “Now hang on-“ Aibgail blushed looking like a schoolgirl for a moment. “Does have a nice ring to it. Don’t it?” ”stop giving her ideas.” John mumbled. Arthur smirked, “Escuella might sound better.” Javiar almost choked on his whiskey, from his spot by the fireplace. “So interested in namesakes all of a sudden…not like you got a new one.” Arthur opened his mouth about to respond. “It’s Smith.” a deep calm voice said from the man in the open doorway with a bow and quiver on his back, leaning on the doorway looking at the people inside his house. ”now, why are you in my house?”
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“Now, why are you in my house?” Mr. Smith crossed his arms over his chest, his left hand lightly gripping the stock of a sawed-off shotgun. His serious dark eyes scanned the room, assessing the situation. Mr. Smith was a brick shithouse of a man, about as big as Arthur. Broader in the chest and shoulders, with ruggedly handsome features marked by a cross-shaped scar on his chin. A Black and Indian feller, not that race mattered to an ex-gang of thieves and killers. “Easy, young man,” Hosea stood up, allowing Cheater, the fat orange house cat, to hop out of his lap. “I believe I owe you a great debt, Mr. Smith,” he said, moving over to the young man with an outstretched hand. “Savin’ my eldest son from what I gathered?” Charles looked at Hosea, arching a brow before glancing behind the man to his husband, checking to see if Arthur was in danger. Arthur gave a nod before signing in hand language that he was safe. When Arthur was mute, Charles had taught him hand language. Arthur mostly signed with his right hand. Giving a nod back, Charles moved his left hand away from his gun before taking Hosea’s hand and giving it a good shake. “I suppose you do.” A polite small smile on his face. “Charles Smith.” Giving a little laugh, Hosea shook his hand back. “Hosea Matthews. Arthur is my eldest.” He introduced, “The feller with the stitches is John, my middle child. His wife Abigail and husband Javier Escuella. Their youngin’, little Jack.” “Hosea!” Abigail squeaked, covering her red face with both hands. “Not you too!” John groaned, slumping back into his chair. “Do not speak for me, old man,” Javier huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Jack peeked from behind Abigail’s skirts, curious but cautious. Charles gave a nod in greeting, hanging his bow and quiver on its hook. Heaving himself up, Arthur walked over to his husband, helping him take off his hunting jacket. The U-hook bracelet caught the collar of the fine leather jacket, and he hung it up. “Niwah,” Charles started. Arthur ducked his head a bit, like a child caught doing something naughty as he hung up Charles’ jacket. “Charles,” he responded, signing as he spoke to give Charles his full attention. It felt wrong to just speak. “You promised me,” Charles arched a brow at the ex-outlaw. “Raspberries and the creek.” Arthur gave a sheepish smile. “Kept my promises, they found me.” Charles covered his eyes and groaned. “Only you, Niwah. I’m not sure if fate loves or hates you.” Hosea chuckled. “I see you’ve had experience with my eldest’s habit of being in the right place at the right time,” he mused, watching Charles nod while encouraging Arthur to sit back down at the table. That was confirmation alone that Arthur was in careful, loving hands. Arthur sat down without a fuss. “We have a lot ta talk about after supper. Bathwater is still warm for ya. Why don’tcha get cleaned up before supper?” he suggested, looking up at his husband with a little smile. Charles nodded and gave Arthur a kiss on the cheek before heading to the latrine, the door closing behind the man with a click. Taking a large deep breath, Arthur sighed, his chest feeling warm. He really did love that man, and Charles made Arthur feel like he was worth something. Loved and appreciated, safe even. A set of emotions that Arthur had rarely experienced in his old life. He just prayed that he showed Charles that same feeling. Suddenly feeling five sets of eyes on him, Arthur flushed pink and looked to his family. “What?” His weak voice tried to have some bark in it like he used to. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think you would be so god damned wifey.” John pointed out with a snicker. “Then again, never thought you would find anyone that would want to marry you, Morgan.” “Smith,” Arthur growled, crossing his arms over his large chest. Clearly his baby would be well fed. “You can sleep outside then, Marston. Let the wolves finish ya off,” he huffed, blinking when Jack hurried over to Arthur and climbed into his arms with a whine. “You don’t mean it, do ya? Making us sleep outside?” Jack whispered, hiding his face in Arthur’s neck. ”Never, pup,” Arthur whispered back, blinking a few times trying not to cry as he kissed Jack’s head. After a while of talking and mostly teasing, Charles came back to join the group for dinner. Charles was a man of few words, but that was just fine. Not much talking was needed since everyone was bone tired and starving. Poor Jack almost fell asleep in a licked-clean bowl. Belly full, clean, and warm. Jack never had a chance. Javier chuckled. “I got ’em,” he whispered in the candlelight as he picked the little guy up without waking him, and took the pup to bed in the next room. Hosea had been tapping his foot for the entire dinner. He held back because Arthur had asked for Jack to not be present. It must be quite the story if Arthur wanted the adults to be alone to talk. How Hosea ate anything he wasn’t sure. His eyes snapped to Arthur as soon as Javier came back and took his seat at the table, his patience long gone now. Jack was in bed now; it was time. “Ya owe me answers, boy,” he said, wagging his finger at Arthur while leaning on the strong oak table. Arthur was sipping his raspberry tea, much better than castor oil. The U-hook bracelets holding the simple clay mug. “I ain’t forgotten.” He took a breath, steeling himself from the painful memory. Arthur held his head up, locking eyes with Hosea. “Just…kinda painful.” He kept crossing and uncrossing his legs uncomfortably. “It was that stagecoach job, the one Micah sold us on. The stagecoach was supposed to be loaded down with railroad payroll. Damn good money, but it felt off to me. The work sounded easy, too easy. We got off the road around Riggs Station, rode into the deep woods there. I turned to say something to Micah and was shot full of buckshot.” He paused for a moment, taking a sip of tea, resting his free hand on his belly. “Oh Arthur…” Abigail whispered, a hand over her mouth. “Micah wanted to kill me to take my spot in the gang.” Arthur finished taking the last swig of his tea, unhooking the mug from his bracelet. “He left me for dead. The buckshot hit me all over. A few in my neck, left hand, a lot in my back and legs. That’s why I can’t ride a horse for long periods of time. Can’t pull a gun like I used to. Kinda helpless nowadays.” Avoiding eye contact and looking down at his mug, the idea of helplessness pained Arthur so. Charles reached over and took Arthur’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I found him, barely alive, two days later. If I had found him sooner… Maybe you could have…” He gave a heavy sigh as he looked at Arthur, who shook his head no. “You came around when I needed ya.” Arthur reassured, signing with his free hand. “I suppose you’re right, Niwah.” Charles gave his hand another squeeze. His serious dark eyes turned to Hosea now. “Why didn’t you come looking for Arthur?” Charles demanded. Arthur grew still, tilting his head a bit. He was not sure what to do. Charles was rightfully mad, given his current state? He wouldn’t be able to save his husband from himself or Hosea. The old conman was quick with that long barrel shotgun. Hosea’s gaze didn’t waver as he held his ground. He wouldn’t be scared off by in-laws, not now or ever. “I did, at first I thought my eldest was exploring the area. He did that quite often. Three, four days at most. After the fourth day, I asked Micah what happened. He said that Arthur was on a job. I gave it another two days, I sent out John…then Javier…Bill…Sean and Lenny…everyone came back empty handed.” He looked down at the empty bowl now. “Days turned into a month. A month became a year. At the year mark, the leader of our gang demanded that I wouldn’t waste any more time or folk on this. Wouldn’t allow me to leave, seein’ how sickly I am. Arthur just ran off… It never sat right with me but…when it’s your youngin’, it breaks ya heart like nothin’ else. Tired, beaten down and mournin’…I gave up.” Hosea looked to Arthur. “I’m truly sorry, son.” He seemed to slump hard in his chair. “We really did search for you, Arthur,” Abigail confirmed, finally speaking up. “Ya ain’t the type to just run off.” John lightly joked. “Not like ya to make my mistakes.” Leaning back in his chair, Javier took out his little black book. “If it helps, brother, I kept the dates.” He passed the book to Charles and Arthur. “I don’t journal like you do but I keep my dates and finances accounted for.” Blinking in surprise, Arthur took the book in his right hand. “Ya sure? That’s rather personal, Javier.” Javier shrugged. “Eh, you’ve seen me at my worst. What’s my book of numbers? Nothing compares to being caught with John and Abigail on my chest after you took Jack fishing.” He snickered, earning playful smacks from a red-faced John and Abigail. “You love me,” he shot back. “Anyway, let us see,” Hosea said as the book was laid out to the dates he could remember. “Javier, your penmanship is lovely. Spanish and English respectively,” Hosea praised the desperado who was now blushing. Charles checked the dates with Arthur’s journal, seeing what lined up. The fire inside him was fading, the truth clear as day. Charles let out a breath. “Thank you for the reassurance. Forgive me for being rude,” he said, giving a nod of his head. Hosea laughed while passing Javier his black book back. “A newly married young man with a baby coming, might as well be a bear with its cub. No, son, I don’t blame you for being…prickly,” he said, wiggling his fingers at the last word. “I can see my son’s capable hands.” “You are too kind,” Charles replied with a nod. It was easy to see that this young man loved Arthur and treated him very well, just like how Arthur spoiled his horses. Charles seemed happy with Arthur and didn’t mind the outlaw’s disabilities. Charles was smiling at nothing, helping Arthur clean up from supper, asking about the baby and how he was feeling. Hosea was happy for his eldest son, finally being loved like he deserved to be. Now if Hosea could get John to marry, honestly living in sin. Should make Abigail and Javier honest people. Rocking in the rocking chair by the fire, petting Cheater the cat, and listening to Javier play his guitar, John sang badly over his beer bottle. Abigail sang along while knitting. A peaceful evening. No plans, no fights, no shootouts. Hosea tried not to smile when he spied Arthur with Charles kissing behind his back. Still in the kitchen, arms wrapped around the other tightly, kissing like they were the only people in the world. Expecting newlyweds were always handy with each other, just couldn’t get enough. It warmed Hosea’s heart as he enjoyed the evening. He prayed for this moment to last. Just a bit longer.
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A spring thunderstorm raged through the night. Thunder clashed, shaking the ranch house, while flashes of lightning briefly illuminated the rooms. The wind howled, rattling the sturdy glass windows, and the steady patter of rain on the tin roof added rhythm to nature’s wild symphony—a song of new life, full of energy and unrest. Hosea couldn’t sleep. Despite the exhaustion from their long journey, his mind refused to quiet. Insomnia—one of the few gifts that came with old age. But for an outlaw, it was almost a blessing, keeping him alert when others might let their guard down. He lit the oil lamp beside his bed and glanced around the room. John, Abigail, and Javier slept soundly in the bunks across from him, with Jack sprawled out on the top. What a wolf pack, he mused, a small smile tugging at his lips. He grabbed his lantern and stood, deciding a swig of whiskey might settle him. A clap of thunder shook the house, making him flinch. But decades of gunfighting had trained his nerves to stay steady. “Christ,” he muttered, making his way to the kitchen—only to notice something odd—the fire in the hearth was still burning. A large pot of water bubbled gently over the flames. A slow smile crept across Hosea’s face. Lifting the lid of the kettle, the familiar scent of blue and black cohosh tea hit him. “Ain’t smelled this since Abigail was laborin’ with Jack,” he chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Arthur, you stubborn fool… waitin’ on me to meet the new baby?” Hosea pulled a bottle of vodka from the cupboard. After a swig, he poured some over his hands, rubbing them clean. Anticipation tightened in his gut. Arthur would hold on—he always did—but Hosea knew how unforgiving labor could be. Moving quietly down the hall, Hosea’s heart picked up as he reached the door. He crouched and pressed his eye to the keyhole. What he saw stole his breath. There was Charles, just as Arthur had always bragged—worth his weight in pure gold. Hosea had taken most of Arthur’s claims with a grain of salt, but now he could see it with his own eyes. Charles held Arthur close, steady and sure as they moved through the room together. Arthur clung to him, shoulders tense, his face tight with pain, his knuckles white as they gripped Charles’s shirt. Arthur’s voice was gone, the contractions so fierce they left him speechless. But even through the agony, his eyes flickered with something else—an unease that went beyond the pain. Hosea’s smile faltered. There was something more here. Fear, maybe. Eliza. Isaac. The names echoed in his mind, their loss still a wound that hadn’t fully healed. Hosea had seen Arthur gutted by their deaths, broken in ways he couldn’t fix. If anything went wrong tonight… He shook his head, pushing the thought away. He made his way back to the kitchen, hands steady as he poured a cup of tea, though his heart raced. Ain’t an easy thing, watching someone you love go through labor. Returning to the door, he knocked softly. “Y’all doin’ okay in there?” he called, his voice gentle but edged with concern. Charles opened the door, his face flushed but calm. “Yeah, we’re doing fine. Arthur’s bein’ real strong,” he said, glancing back at Arthur for confirmation. Arthur raised a shaky thumb, breathless but determined. His hand rested on his swollen belly, but his gaze was distant, his eyes flicking away whenever they neared Charles or the bed. Hosea’s chest tightened. Something wasn’t right. Hosea passed the cup to Charles with a soft chuckle. “I’ll keep my nose out of it,” he promised, though a teasing smile tugged at his lips. “But if you need me, I’ve delivered a few babies before.” Charles let out a shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Thanks… it helps knowing you’re here,” he admitted, his youth and nerves showing through. “Not a bother, son,” Hosea replied warmly. He tilted his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Arthur, leaning back on the bed, legs spread as he began to push. The sight struck Hosea’s heart with an odd mixture of awe and worry. He leaned in a bit further, then whispered, “Now… I think ya need to catch.” Charles blinked, confusion clouding his face for a second before realization dawned. “Catch? Oh—catch!” His voice wavered with excitement and panic as he scrambled back to Arthur, nearly tripping over the rug in his rush. Hosea chuckled again, gently closing the door behind him. Arthur’ll be fine. He has to be. Back in the kitchen, Hosea set a pot of water to boil for rice porridge, an old tradition for new parents. The warm dish would help Arthur regain his strength, maybe even bring in the milk. As he stirred the pot, his thoughts drifted back to the heartbreak Arthur had endured. Losing Eliza and Isaac had almost broken him, had turned him into something darker for a while. Just like I was when Bessie passed. Thunder rumbled again, shaking the windows as Hosea’s gaze softened. But Arthur had pulled him back then, just like he’d pulled Arthur back later. That’s what family did—they saved each other, no matter how broken they got. Cheater, the orange cat, jumped into Hosea’s lap as he sat by the fire in that comfortable rocking chair, purring as she settled against him. “Now, Mrs. Cheater,” he murmured, scratching behind her ears. “You gonna be good to the new baby? Not gonna steal their milk, are ya?” The cat responded with a lazy meow, kneading her paws into his lap as the storm continued to rage outside. Hosea had just lost himself in his book when the sound of a newborn’s cry echoed through the house—loud and strong. A smile tugged at his lips, but he didn’t celebrate yet. He’d wait for Charles. A moment later, the door latch opened softly. Charles stepped into the room, his face a mix of relief and something else. “Hey…” “Hey yourself,” Hosea replied, closing his book and giving Charles his full attention. “The baby’s here,” Charles said, “She’s healthy and strong… but…” Hosea stood, his chest tightening. “He won’t hold her. Won’t look at her,” Charles said, frowning. “I don’t know why.” Hosea sighed, resting a hand on Charles’s shoulder. “These things happen, son. Sometimes it ain’t the pain that scares a new mama. It’s what comes after.” Charles looked back toward the bedroom, confusion clouding his face. “What d’you mean?” Hosea’s voice softened. “He’s lost too much, Charles. He might be scared of loving her… scared of losing her, like the others.” Charles stared, realization dawning in his eyes. “But… she’s here, and she’s fine.” “Doesn’t matter to his heart,” Hosea said gently. “But we’ll get some sense into him. Just wait till morning.” He winked at Charles as he walked into the cozy bedroom with the new father on his heels. Together, they walked into the dimly lit bedroom. Arthur sat hunched in the middle of the bed, tears streaming down his face, his trembling arms barely holding the tiny baby crying against his chest. “Pa… I… I can’t,” Arthur whispered, his voice broken. “I can’t hold her right. Can’t even feed her. I’m sorry, Charles… I’m sorry, baby.” Charles moved to Arthur’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Niwah, that’s not true. You’re doing fine.” Before Arthur could respond, Hosea’s voice cut through, firm but gentle. “Arthur Morgan Smith, stop this nonsense right now.” Arthur blinked up at him, wide-eyed. “You’re stronger than this,” Hosea said, kneeling beside him. “You’ve survived everything this world’s thrown at you time and time again, more than most men could ever dream. And now, you’re gonna hold that baby like she’s the treasure she is. You hear me?” Arthur swallowed hard, his hands shaking as Hosea helped him adjust the baby to nurse. “But Pa… I’m scared,” he whimpered. “We’re all scared, son,” Hosea said softly, his voice full of love. “Charles is scared. Hell, I’m scared. But you’ve got the best luck of anyone I’ve ever known. You’ll do just fine. We’re here with ya.” Charles ducked when Hosea called himself out. “…I’ve never been a father before, I’m so excited about our daughter as much as I’ve been scared of her.” He commented softly. Arthur gave a weak, tearful nod. And slowly—hesitantly—he allowed Hosea to help readjust the baby up a bit more to help the baby to latch. Arthur began to nurse his daughter, the fear in his eyes softening into something like hope. looking to Hosea now, Charles found his voice. “Is this normal?” He asked hopefully. “Ah yes it is, baby havin’ messes with the mama’s head a bit. Baby blues they call it. Arthur bounced back in some time. Glad we're here to help.” Hosea explained, peeking at the baby in his son’s arm. “Now who do we have here? You haven’t introduced us, Arthur.” He blinked looking at the baby and then to Charles. Signing as he sported his daughters head, “her name? Christ, I’ve been callin’ her fawn all this time. Got any ideas Charles?” Charles looked down at their daughter, a beautiful little girl as pink as can be at the moment but no doubt she would take after Charles, head full of thick black hair and blue eyes from what was seen of them. Charles brushed her hair back as she nursed hungrily. In Hosea’s experience, all newborn babies looked exactly like their daddy. Arthur’s was no exception. “Dyani? Dyani Bea Smith?” Charles offered hopefully looking to Arthur now. “Dyani…Dyaniiii…” Arthur repeated a few tries before nodding. “Suits her just fine…whats’it mean?” Charles chuckled lightly, nudging his husband. “deer of course.” This made Arthur smile a little and gave a bit of a chuckle now. “A fine name, suits the little girl well.” Hosea was busying himself by cleaning up the mess of blankets and furs for the new couple. Going to his bag, Hosea produced a bottle of ginseng elixir. “Drink this now.” He forced the little bottle into Arthur’s weak hand. Arthur tried to close his fingers around it letting it fall to the bed. He gave a whimper, tears starting to prick at his eyes. “Hosea I’mma so..” ”no need, I simply forgotten Son.” Hosea apologized. “Hard ta remember things when ya are old.” He admitted with a sigh picking up the bottle and handed it to Charles. “Make sure my son drinks this now, good for the health.” He explained to the other man. “I’mma gonna leave ya to it I reckon. Y’all spend some time with Baby Dyani. Congratulations.” He praised getting up to leave the room. ”Hosea.” Arthur called out, making the older man look back. “…thank ya…for knockin’ some sense into me.” “Niwah is right, thank you Hosea for the help.” Charles added. “Least I can do son.” Hosea left the room, leaving the young parents to their new treasure. As Hosea cleaned up the mess of blankets, he felt the weight of his own exhaustion settle in. He glanced back at the young parents, nestled together with their daughter. The storm outside had begun to break, and peace settled over the ranch. Heading to his bunk, Hosea sank into the mattress, the deep, peaceful kind of sleep that comes to a man who’s done his part. His head hardly touched the pillow before he was out, knowing that new life was safe in loving arms.