─── ｡ﾟ☆: two , dammit morgan! :☆ﾟ. ───

THE FIRST FEW HOURS of their journey was silent, the scenery becoming greener the longer they rode, and Angelica soaked it all in. Other than the slight ache from her stitches, she found, it was rather peaceful riding in the caravan with Hosea and Arthur. Which was odd, because it's been a while since Arthur and Angelica could sit near each other without arguing.

He's probably falling ill. The woman thought, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. Or he's waiting for the right moment to start something.

Movement from Hosea caused the younger woman to snap out of her thoughts, her green eyes dragging over to him as he lifted his hand to his right shoulder, rubbing it as it was causing him pain. Angelica raised a thin brow, a question forming on her lips. But before she could utter a word, Hosea spoke.

"Angelica, dear, take the reins." Hosea made a pained face as he held the leather straps out for her to take, who blinked at him in confusion.

"Wait—" She tried.

Hosea then turned to Arthur. "Son, trade places with me — I need to stretch out, these old muscles are starting to cramp."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the older man, wondering what Hosea was up to. Both men held each other's gaze, an odd exchange passing through their eyes. The gunslinger bit the inside of his cheek, a heavy sigh passing through his nose as he slowly nodded. "Sure. . ."

As both men traded places, Angelica gripped the reins tighter as if they were a lifeline. I wonder if I should just toss myself from the wagon and make a run for it. She thought, eyeing the ground to her right that looked very welcoming at that moment.

Angelica watched out the corner of her eye how Arthur immediately folded his arms and turned away from her, the air feeling thick between them. Hosea was smirking to himself, enjoying the sight of their stiff shoulders and stand-off-ish attitude. He always loved seeing Arthur squirm when he was around the beaut beside him.

Angelica had that effect on a lot of people.

Arthur glanced over at the smaller woman, his lips setting in a straight line as he dropped his gaze to the reins in her smaller hands. For a moment, he thought of her wound. "You should let me take the reins," The last thing they needed was for her to pull her stitches and rip them.

Angelica turned to look up at him, her eyes narrowing. "Why?"

"Cause' I always drive, and I actually know where we're goin'." Was his snippy reply.

So much for not arguing.

Angelica hummed as she rolled her pale eyes, "I know where we're goin' Morgan." She threw him a nasty look when he scoffed, "What? I do!"

The gunslinger shook his head side-to-side, a smirk slipping on his lips as he found her annoyance amusing, angering Angelica even more.

The woman's hostile glare played on him for a moment, looking over his smug features. She could see his face held a rather large amount of bristle from not being able to shave, hiding the tiny scar she knew was on his chin. His ash-brown hair that was normally trimmed sticking out from under his gamblers hat. He was absolutely handsome in that moment, and she hated it.

"Speed up, would ya' — we're fallin' behind." His husky voice suddenly snapped, causing Angelica to flinch as she was ripped from her small observation. "Just give me the reins, woman!"

"Good lord, why are you so annoying?!" Angelica drawled, slapping his hands away as he attempted to snatch the reins from her.

Arthur's eyes rounded as a mocking look flashed over his face, "Oh, I'm the annoying one?"

Hosea leaned forward, his grey eyes narrowing on a rugged stream up the path. He cleared his throat, spluttering a few warnings, but they went unheard — the young woman was too busy trying to keep the reins away from Arthur. She shot him a smoldering glare, actually wanting to hurl herself at him and punch him in the throat.

"Yes you," she spat, dodging his hands once again. "You're constantly finding a way to piss me off."

Arthur's chest vibrated with a deep chuckle, his hand now resting on his knee. "Good. Then I'm doin' my job—"

Suddenly, a loud 'snap' followed by the whole wagon jerking to the left caused them to cease their arguing. Angelica felt someone pull her body closer, but she paid no mind to it, for the pain in her hip was more important. Her breathing came in short gasps, mostly from the fright she had gotten but also from the sudden flare of pain.

Javier, who was driving the wagon in front of them, pulled the horses to a stop. He quickly turned on the wooden bench to see what the commotion was. Charles was already out the wagon and making his way over with a perplexed look on his visage.

"Is everything alright?"

Angelica tried to move but a weight stopped her. It took her a moment to realize that Arthur had his arms around her. Her face reddened as she tipped her head up, her green eyes locking with a pair of blue ones.

For a moment, Angelica nearly forgot her hatred for the man.

"You can let me go now," She said, trying again to move.

It was shocking to Angelica that Arthur had made such a bold move. But here he was, holding her close so she wouldn't fall off the wagon. The blonde male did as requested, quickly climbing off the wagon as his name was called, hiding his reaction before Angelica could see. Letting out a sigh, she got up and mimicked his actions, being mindful of her hip.

She walked around the wagon towards the back, joining the three men who all wore exasperated looks on their faces. And it didn't take Angelica long to notice why. "Fuck," Angelica whispered, her lips creasing into a frown.

The wagon was leaning to the side, the left-back wheel missing. All of their things were on the ground, but nothing else seemed to be broken.

Angelica turned her emerald eyes to glare across at Arthur. This was his fault. If he would have left her alone, this would have never happened. So, she instantly pointed a finger at him. "Dammit, Morgan."

He turned, his eyes suddenly widened in disbelief. "What do you mean 'dammit Morgan?'" he asked, facing an accusing finger at her, "Yer' the one that was controlling the damn thing."

She squinted her jaded eyes at him, "Well if you weren't in my ear whinin' about—"

"Enough!" Hosea silenced them quickly, his grey eyes dancing between the two. "Now, Charles. You, me and Angel will hold up the thing, while you try and put the wheel back on, Arthur."

The two adults looked away bashfully, somewhat embarrassed for being scolded like children.

Charles smirked to himself as his eyes locked with Hosea, they shared a look, actually finding the pairs squabbling entertaining.

Arthur set his jaw and muttered a few choice words under his breath, turning around to do as he was told. Angelica rolled her eyes at him, wondering if he were actually a boy instead of a man — She joined Charles and Hosea as they got ready to lift the wagon, her side already itching.

She knew this was going to hurt.

Arthur bent down and grabbed onto the wooden wheel, pulling it up with ease. "You still strong enough to hold up a wagon?" He baited, his eyes swinging over to Hosea as he rolled the wheel into place.

The older man frowned at the jab, "Shut up,"

For the first few moments, Angelica was doing fine, her side only hurt when she moved. But as soon as she lifted, a sharp pain instantly flared from her wound. She let out a small hiss, earning a sideways glance from Charles.

"I'm just sayin'," Arthur hummed, lining the wheel up with the axel.

"Well, say less." Hosea replied, "Now pick the wheel up!"

Arthur lifted the wheel and rammed his shoulder into it, causing it to lock back into place. After a few more hits, they were able to set the wagon back down and Angelica quickly stepped to the side as the men recovered everything.

She rubbed over the dress material, trying to find a place that was open enough for her to check her stitches. Her jaw flexed out of annoyance when she couldn't find an opening. "Damn, stupid dress. I'm burning you the first chance I get." she glared at the fabric as if it actually understood her.

"Are you okay?" The sudden voice made Angelica jump and she swiftly turned to face Charles; he stared down at her, a trace of worry in his dusky colored eyes.

"Yes, I just wanted to check my stitches," She explained, giving him a fixed smile.

His expression dulled as his eyes dropped down to her hip as if he could see the wound. He wanted to push the matter, actually genuinely concerned for her well-being. but, before Charles could question her any further, Arthurs' low defensive voice caught their attention.

"What you think?"

The two turned to face Arthur and Hosea, only to see them looking beyond the stream and up at the cliff's edge. Angelica matched their gaze, she bit down on her bottom lip as she saw three silhouettes in the distance. Her first thought was Indians.

Are they following us?

Angelica folded her arms over her chest, stepping closer to the men beside her. "How long have they been there?"

"Probably longer then we'd like—" Charles shifted on his feet, his eyes settling on her for a moment. "If they wanted trouble, we wouldn't have seen them."

Hosea lifted his arm, giving them a small wave. "Poor bastards," He said, lowering his arm. "We really screwed them over down here. Come on, let's not push our luck."

Angelica gave him a confused glance. "What happened?" She and Arthur asked at the same time.

Angelica could feel Arthur's eyes on her, but she ignored him, keeping her gaze locked on Hosea.

"Well. get in, I'll tell ya."

Angelica climbed into the back of the wagon with the help of Charles as the two other men took their places on the wooden bench upfront. Once everyone was settled in, Arthur urged the horses to move forward.

"So.. yes, the Indians in these parts got sold a very raw deal." Hosea began, his voice a little indifferent as he spoke. "This is the Heartlands we're going to, good farmers and grazing country, they lost it all."

Angelica dampened her lips and looked down, feeling sympathy for the people who had lost their homeland. She knew what it felt like to have something so dear ripped away without any warning — it was a terrible feeling, one that would make a soul crumble.

"Stolen clean away from them it was every blade of grass. Killed or herded up to the reservations in the middle of nowhere." Hosea continued his voice grave.

Charles shifted in his spot, "And how's that different from anywhere else?"

The older male hesitated for a fleeting moment, "Well, maybe it's not." He noted, "I just heard some of the army out here was particularly, uh, unpleasant about it."

A look of something flashed in Charles' eyes for a short moment, "Unpleasant? How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?" He fidgeted, "We don't, in spite of Dutch's talk."

Charles wasn't wrong — Angelica looked down while trying to hide the fact that Charles' words about Dutch had bothered her. That man was like a father to her, he stepped up when her own passed away. So despite Charles' words being nothing but the truth — Angelica still felt the need to defend Dutch.

Seeing the look on the darker males face, Hosea promptly added. "I fear I was perhaps trying to simplify something more complicated for the benefit of our blockheaded driver here." he gestured to Arthur.

A small smirk appeared on Angelica's face, momentarily forgetting what was said only moments ago.

"Hey, don't blame it on me" Arthur spoke up, his voice low and rather defensive. "Never forget, this here's a conman, Charles, born and bred. No better than that she-devil sittin' beside ya."

Shocked, Angelica's gaze yanked over to Arthur, her mouth opening and closing as she processed what he just said. Did he just call me a she-devil? Arthur resumed speaking "Just 'cause it sounds fancy don't mean they know a damn thing about what they're talkin' about."

Her green eyes narrowed into slits, "Well, yer' an asshole — How fancy does that sound?" She snapped, wishing she had something that she could throw at the back of his head.

"Not very fancy," Charles chuckled, his eyes shining a little more than before.

Arthur threw the younger woman a glare, his mouth clamping shut after that.

Angelica let her eyes drag over to Charles after a few moments of silence; She wanted to know more about the male — he had been riding with them for months now, and she had yet to know anything about him or his story. Angelica placed her elbows on her knees, tipping her head to the side as she asked. "So, uh, What happened to your tribe?"

Charles' eyes dragged over to her and she immediately regretted asking such a sensitive question.

Charles straightened his back, his brows pinching together in a frown. "I don't even know if I have one.. 'Least not that I can remember. My father was a colored man; they told me he lived with our people for a while, a number of freemen did, but when we were forced to move from our lands, the three of us fled... I was too young to really remember much."

As he spoke, Angelica noticed the look of sorrow pass over his usually stoic face, as if he was remembering his life before meeting Dutch and the others.

"All my life I've been on the run. A couple of years later, some soldiers captured my mother, took her somewhere." He clenched his fist as he said this, "We never saw her again." His eyes met Angles for a short moment, and he seemed to relax a bit. "We drifted around. He was a very sad man and the drink had a mean hold on him."

Charles glanced down, "Around thirteen, I just took off on my own." He finished, leaving a heavy air around them all.

Hosea spoke up, thankfully changing the subject. "That was about the age we found young Arthur here, maybe a little older—"

"He was fourteen," Angelica aimlessly spoke.

Everyone suddenly looked at her, all of them holding different expressions on their faces.

Arthur lifted both eyebrows in surprise and glanced back at Angelica, his blue eyes danced over her face, watching as her cheeks flared a different shade. She was now leaning away, her arms folded over her chest, her fingers gripping onto her biceps with a harsh hold. Angelica's Green eyes were thick with embarrassment as the other two men stared at her with raised brows.

She tensed her jaw, looking down at her fingers as she began to pick at them. "I-I mean— I think." Someone shoot me. She thought, praying that someone would change the subject.

"As I was saying.." Hosea said with a smirk, "A wilder delinquent you never did see, but he learned fast."

"Not as fast as Marston, apparently," Arthur had turned back to face the front once again, his heart now pumping a little faster.

Though his voice was low, Angelica still caught what he said and rolled her eyes. She didn't understand why Arthur couldn't let the past go. A while back, when Abigail gave birth to the sweet and loving Jack. John panicked and left the gang for nearly a year — it took Angelica months to find the man, but after nearly a year she tracked him down. The fierce woman tore him a new one, flipping over the fact he could abandon the gang and his new born son like that. After that, John agreed to come back and face his problems with Abigail head on — or at least tried.

Everyone was happy the Marston man was back, and welcomed him with open arms — well, not everyone.

Arthur seemed to hold this unspoken grudge against John, and made sure the other male knew of his distaste for him — but there was a time when the three of them were like three peas in a pod.

But that is in the past. . .

"Wait — I don't understand." Charles leaned forward, his brows coming together. "What's the problem between you two?"

Hosea looked at the younger man beside him, his lips forming a straight line. "Arthur?"

"Ehh, it's a long story." Arthur eventually answered, shrugging his broad shoulders. The air became thick with tension; once again.

Angelica was tired of every conversation ending in awkward silence, so she opened her mouth and spouted out the first thing that came to mind. "Are we heading in the right direction?"

Arthur glanced at her as Hosea answered, "That depends, are we still heading west, in search of fortune and repose in virgin forests as we planned? No. Are we heading in the correct direction on our desperate escape from the law eastwards down the mountains? Yes, I believe so."

The younger woman paused, sharing a deadpanned look with Charles before lightly scoffing under her breath. "Last time I ask any questions,"

Charles gave her a half-smile before turning back to Hosea, "You know this area?"

He shrugged softly, "A little, I've been through a couple of times. There's a livestock town not too far from here called valentine. Cowboys, outlaws, working girls. Our kind of place."

"O'Driscolls?" Arthur asked, his voice short and rough. His dislike for the gang clear as day in his voice.

Angelica felt repulsion course through her body as the name fell from the man's lips. O'Driscoll's. A rival gang that had been on her hit list from the young age of twelve. The last run-in she had with the devil himself weren't so good — it was also the last time she got to see her father before his life was ripped away from him.

"Probably." Let's hope not.

"What about Pinkertons?" Angelica questioned, her brow lifting as she leaned forward a bit.

"Hopefully not."

Arthur cleared his throat, "So, this place we're goin'-" He cut himself off and turned to look at the man beside him, confusion in his bright eyes. "Wait, what's it called again?"

"Horseshoe overlook."

"You sure it's a good place to lie low?" Angelica inquired her thoughts already on the safety of the gang. She didn't want what happened in Blackwater to happen again — they nearly died last time.

Hosea's shoulders tensed a bit, "It'll do for now." He peered at Angelica for a second, "And how low do you think Dutch is really going to lie? It's just. . . You know, maybe it's me who's changed, not him, but we kept telling him that ferry job didn't feel right."

At this, Angelica lifted her thin brows. She didn't know much of what happened on the ferry back in Blackwater. All she knew was that she was supposed to be waiting with John, ready for the gang when they got back to camp.

"Me and Arthur had a real lead in Blackwater that could've worked out."

Arthur nodded, "Maybe," He glanced back at Angelica, his shoulder rising as he noticed the faraway look in her pale green eyes while she stared at the passing trees.

"It just.. Isn't like Dutch to lose his head like that."

Arthur frowned and directed his gaze away from the woman behind him, not wanting her to catch him staring. "Things go wrong sometimes, people die. It's the way it is, always has been.." he hesitated to say the next part, "Me, you, Angel, Dutch. . . We've all been in this line of work for a long time, and we're still here."

Arthur let his shoulders droop. He locked eyes with the older man beside him, a look of something pooling his eyes as lowly spoke. "I figure we must've got it right, a hell of a lot more than we got it wrong."

words - 3468
edited - ★ (yes)