A Taste of Civilization
Horseshoe Overlook, Morning Light
The smell of coffee clung to the air like morning fog. Birds chirped through the trees, and the world slowly stirred to life at Horseshoe Overlook.
Cam Gallagher strolled past Pearson's chuck wagon with a mug in hand, boots crunching through dry grass, eyes scanning for signs of activity—anything to break the routine. That's when he spotted a familiar shape slumped beside the wagon wheels.
Uncle, half-snoring, half-mumbling, laid curled beneath the back wheel of the supply wagon like a man who'd mistaken shade for a proper bed. His hat drooped low, a bottle of something questionable resting near his hand.
Arthur appeared from behind a tent, brow furrowed as he eyed the pathetic scene.
Cam took a slow sip. "Hard at work already, I see."
Arthur chuckled, stepping closer. "Careful not to work yourself to death there, Uncle."
The old man groaned, lifting his head with effort. "I was thinkin'."
Arthur crossed his arms, smirking. "Does it pay well?"
Uncle grunted and tried to sit up. "Eventually."
Cam knelt beside the wheel, nudging the bottle away with a finger. "So while the rest of us are huntin', shootin', and runnin' down lawmen... you're countin' clouds?"
Uncle shrugged. "It's a strange world, boys. Stranger every day."
Arthur gestured to the nearby horses. "We were thinkin' about heading into Valentine. Maybe find a little work, catch wind of something useful."
Cam stood, stretching out a stiff shoulder. "A ride into town sounds just fine by me."
Before either of them could take a step, the sound of boots pattering on dirt caught their attention. Karen, Mary-Beth, and Tilly came striding over, skirts swaying, eyes alight with mischief.
Karen spoke first, lips already curled in a grin. "If you're takin' that old man into town, might as well take us too."
Arthur raised a brow. "And why's that?"
"We're bored out of our minds," Mary-Beth answered, hands on her hips. "Been cooped up here for two weeks now. Karen's about ready to murder Grimshaw."
Karen nodded. "It's true. I've measured out where I'll bury her."
Cam snorted. "Can Miss Grimshaw spare y'all from dishes and boots for a few hours?"
Karen rolled her eyes. "What happened to you, Cam? Three healthy women askin' you to take them robbin', and you're worried about chores?"
Mary-Beth leaned closer, voice lower, meant just for him. "You know we'll behave... mostly."
He met her gaze, a hint of something warm flickering behind his usual stoic stare. "I don't doubt it. Alright. Let's go cause trouble."
The girls whooped like they'd won a bet, climbing onto the wagon's back as Uncle grumbled his way into the driver's seat, still adjusting his hat.
Tilly leaned over the side with a grin. "Valentine... finally some civilization."
Arthur glanced between them all, then climbed onto the front beside Uncle. Cam followed, hopping up and settling in beside them.
Uncle sighed. "The very embodiment of civilization. You ladies'll love it."
Arthur snapped the reins, and the wagon rumbled forward, the wheels creaking to life beneath them. As the horses trotted out of the trees, the girls launched into song.
"I got a girl in Valentine... likes to drink that fancy wine..."
Karen belted the lyrics, Tilly clapped along, and Mary-Beth swayed with a smile, her eyes flicking Cam's way mid-verse.
He just watched her, amused. "You always this excited about bad liquor and worse singing?"
Mary-Beth grinned. "Only when I've got a good view in front of me."
Karen leaned over with a sly grin. "She means you, handsome."
Cam shook his head, chuckling as the trail opened up ahead.
The wagon rolled easy over the dusty trail, sunlight dappling through the trees as the group rattled northward. Laughter rang from the back where Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth sat in full spirits, trading songs and stories between gusts of wind.
Cam sat beside Arthur and Uncle up front, one hand resting casually on his knee, the other shielding his eyes from the morning glare. He was beginning to enjoy the peaceful rhythm of the ride when the calm shattered.
Uncle squinted ahead.
"Look at that coach—he's... he's all over the place."
Cam leaned forward. Sure enough, a stagecoach was weaving down the trail ahead like its driver had one eye and no sense of balance.
Then chaos.
The horses broke from the harness in a sudden panic, splitting off like startled deer. The coach skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust.
"Oh, goddamn it! Oh, shit, the horses!" the driver cried. "Damn horses—this is all I need!"
Tilly leaned out from the back, eyebrows raised. "One of you gonna get that feller's horse?"
Uncle groaned, hand to his lower back. "Oh, I got lumbago... it's very serious!"
Arthur shot Cam a look.
Cam sighed, already hopping down from the wagon. "Lumbago my ass."
Arthur followed with a smirk. "Alright, let's go see what's goin' on."
They approached the flustered driver, who waved a hand toward the fleeing white horse across the field.
Driver: "Hey, uh... you couldn't help me get that other horse back, could you? It's the white one over there."
Arthur: "Sure. No problem."
Cam nodded. "You get the horse—I'll keep the wagon in check."
Arthur strode out into the brush while Cam stayed behind, helping the man steady the coach and re-hitch the first horse.
Back at the wagon, the girls were standing now, watching the scene unfold like it was high drama on a stage.
Karen, elbowing Mary-Beth. "Ten cents says Arthur falls on his ass."
Mary-Beth smirked. "Not with Cam watching. They're both trying to play knight in dusted coats."
Tilly just whistled. "He's got the reins... come on, Morgan."
Arthur reached the white horse, speaking low and steady. The animal pawed the ground nervously, eyes wide.
Arthur: "Easy now... I ain't gonna hurt you. Just calm down."
The horse shifted but slowly began to trust him. With practiced patience, Arthur took the reins and guided it back toward the coach.
Karen threw a fist in the air. "Yes! Look at him go!"
Mary-Beth leaned into Cam's seat, chin on the backrest. "You'd have handled that faster, I bet."
Cam tilted his head toward her, lips tugging in a half-smile. "Maybe. But then I wouldn't get to watch you all cheer like it's a parade."
She rolled her eyes but didn't look away.
Arthur returned, reins in hand, guiding the white horse to its place. He handed it off to the driver with a curt nod.
Arthur: "Here... here you go."
Driver: "You're a gentleman, sir. A real gentleman!"
Arthur smirked, glancing back at the wagon. "Nah... just tryin' to impress the women."
Cam chuckled. "Ain't we all."
Arthur climbed back onto the wagon, brushing dust from his coat.
Uncle: "C'mon, let's get goin' before my lumbago flares up again."
Karen: "To Valentine!"
The wagon rolled on once more, the town's edge finally visible in the distance. Laughter rose again from the back, and Cam found himself stealing a glance at Mary-Beth, who was already watching him.
She gave him a slow, knowing smile.
Yeah... maybe Valentine wasn't the only thing worth looking forward to.
The wagon rolled forward again, creaking and swaying over the ruts of the road. The women laughed in the back, the wind teasing strands of hair from under their bonnets. Cam leaned against the side of the cart, arms crossed, hat tilted low as he watched the town of Valentine come into view.
Uncle twisted in his seat, gesturing lazily toward Arthur.
"You're turnin' into a regular ol' fairy godmother there, Arthur."
Arthur glanced sideways, unimpressed.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Mary-Beth leaned forward, resting her arms on the wagon rails, a teasing smile on her lips.
"It means you've got a heart. A small one maybe—hidden deep, deep inside—but it's there."
(she flicked her gaze toward Uncle) "Unlike him, you repulsive old lizard."
Uncle scowled.
"Lizards have hearts!"
Tilly grinned.
"Well, Arthur, I'm proud of you."
Arthur exhaled a soft chuckle.
"Truth is, if you lot weren't here… I probably woulda robbed the feller."
Cam, still lounging, gave a shrug.
"Would've been faster than chasin' down horses."
Mary-Beth turned her eyes on him, amused.
"But you didn't, either of you. That's what counts."
Cam tipped his hat.
"Guess we're just gettin' soft."
Valentine unfolded in front of them—a muddy stretch of life after the cold, snowy deadlands. The clatter of hooves, shouts from shopfronts, and clanging steel from the smithy filled the air.
Tilly wrinkled her nose.
"Smell those sheep."
Karen fanned herself dramatically.
"Or is that Uncle?"
Uncle scoffed.
"Very funny."
Mary-Beth, ever poetic, watched the streets with wonder.
"This looks like a decent little town."
Tilly let out a breath.
"Other people. Finally."
Mary-Beth's gaze drifted to the snow-dusted mountains.
"Don't want to go back up there."
Karen cocked an eyebrow.
"You think we should've asked Molly to come with us?"
Tilly rolled her eyes.
"Oh, Miss O'Shea? Please. Too good for us now."
Karen added with flair:
"She's a society lady. Won't be caught dead doing real work."
The wagon slowed as they passed the sheriff's office, the buzz of town life swirling around them.
Karen clapped her hands, excited.
"Okay, take a good look around, ladies. Let's see what we got here."
Uncle gestured ahead.
"Go left here, down the main street."
Arthur nodded to the sheriff's office.
"Pick up some bounties there, maybe."
Cam nudged Arthur.
"Only if you feel like bein' legal for once."
Arthur smirked.
"Where's the fun in that?"
Uncle raised a finger.
"That's a young man's game."
Karen leaned toward Tilly.
"Oh yes. We can get up to some mischief here, alright."
Arthur gave a side glance.
"Just remember—keep a low profile."
Karen smirked.
"Will you remember that, Arthur?"
Arthur:
"Probably not."
Uncle pointed down the road.
"Let's park up down the end, near the stables."
The wagon eased to a stop. Cam was already swinging his legs over the side before the wheels fully halted, boots landing in the churned mud with a soft squelch.
Uncle stepped down, hands on his hips.
"Alright! Here we are, just like I said. The cultural center of civilization. Man at his finest."
Arthur eyed him.
"Uncle, what're we doin'?"
Uncle grinned.
"We're gonna do what any self-respecting maniac does—put the women to work."
Karen smirked.
"With pleasure. We'll start at the saloon."
Cam fell in beside Mary-Beth as she started off.
"Don't drink anything that bites back."
She gave him a playful look over her shoulder.
"You worried about me, Cam?"
He smirked.
"Always."
Arthur called after them.
"Just stay outta trouble."
Tilly, laughing:
"No promises!"
Uncle slapped Cam's back.
"C'mon. I need to grab something from the stores."
Arthur:
"We'll meet you there when you're done."
Karen waved a hand as they left.
"Imagine we're in Paris!"
Tilly snorted.
"I imagine Valentine and Paris are very easy to confuse."
As the women disappeared into the crowd, Cam walked alongside Arthur and Uncle down the busy street.
Arthur eyed Uncle.
"So… that's how you see yourself? A maniac?"
Uncle puffed up proudly.
"Back in my youth, they used to call me the One-Shot Kid."
Arthur blinked.
"I'm not gonna ask why."
Cam grinned.
"Let me guess… it had nothin' to do with your shootin'."
They reached the general store, the bell overhead jingling as they stepped inside.
Shopkeeper:
"Morning."
Arthur glanced around.
"So what do you need?"
Uncle immediately snatched a bottle of whiskey.
"A drop to pass the time while we wait."
Arthur nodded.
"Always thinkin' ahead, huh?"
Cam looked at a row of cigars, picking one out, then caught Uncle's eye.
"You sure you don't need somethin' stronger? Like a miracle?"
Uncle ignored the jab, taking a swig.
"It's a funny world. This time in my life, I figured I'd be married to an heiress."
Trouble in Valentine
Arthur's snores were soft, but persistent. He sat slouched on the bench outside the general store, hat tipped low over his brow, arms folded like a man who hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks.
Cam stood nearby, half-listening to Uncle prattle on about whiskey and war stories that probably never happened, when the shop bell jingled behind them.
Mary-Beth stepped out, her stride light, her smile brighter. "Gentlemen," she said with a glint in her eye, "I think I've got something good."
Arthur stirred and pushed his hat back with a groggy grunt. Cam turned fully toward her, already intrigued.
"I snuck into this fancy house," she went on, barely able to contain her glee, "pretended to be a servant girl—always works. Overheard someone say her sister's takin' a trip. Big train, full of rich tourists, heading to Saint Denis. Then off to Brazil."
Arthur rubbed at his face, muttering, "Alright…"
"Lots of baggage. Gold. Jewelry. They'll be passing through some deserted stretch at night—Scarlett Meadows, just to catch the tide in time for the docks."
Uncle perked up like a dog catching the scent of meat. "Scarlett Meadows… yeah, that's real quiet country. Just a few farms and a whole lotta nothin'."
Cam chuckled, tossing his spent cigar to the dirt. "Quiet roads, rich folks, and no witnesses? That's a good kind of trouble."
Mary-Beth smirked. "I knew you'd like it."
Arthur gave a half-smile. "Where's Tilly and Karen?"
"Hotel," Mary-Beth answered. "They found a couple drunks they figured they'd rob."
Arthur sighed. "Why?"
Mary-Beth just shrugged. "Seemed easy."
She glanced past Cam then suddenly stiffened. Her voice dropped. "There's Tilly…"
Cam turned with her. Across the muddy road, near the hotel, Tilly was backed up against the side of a building, a man looming over her. His hand gripped her arm too tight, his body language hostile.
"That doesn't look good."
"That's one of them Foreman boys," Mary-Beth said, her tone turning sharp.
Uncle grunted, stepping up beside Arthur. "Arthur'll murder that dumb bastard."
Arthur didn't say a word. He just started walking, slow and deliberate, toward the scene.
Cam followed.
He didn't even think about it. He just fell in behind Arthur, a few paces back, heart starting to drum in his ears. There was something about the way Arthur moved—like a fuse had just been lit, and nobody else had realized it yet.
Across the street, the Foreman thug shoved Tilly against the wall.
"You thought I wouldn't find you?" he sneered. "I been lookin' too long—I gotcha now!"
"Stop! Let me go!" Tilly struggled, slamming her fists into his chest.
"Get off of me!"
Cam picked up his pace. Arthur didn't. He just kept walking, boots crunching on gravel, face carved in stone.
Then his voice cut through the air—low, steady, like a warning shot fired in silence.
"Get your hands off her."
The man froze.
Tilly looked over the thug's shoulder. "A friend of mine," she said, defiant now.
The man turned slightly, still holding onto her. "Who the hell are you?"
Arthur stepped in, close enough that Cam could feel the tension ripple through the air.
"Get the hell off her… you son of a bitch."
Cam stopped just a few feet behind them. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. He could see it all unfold—how Arthur's calm scared the hell out of the guy more than shouting ever could.
The thug lifted his hands.
"Hey… hey, take it easy," he stammered. "Ain't no problem here."
Arthur didn't even blink. "There will be if you don't get outta here. Now."
The man backed off, muttering curses under his breath as he slunk off like a kicked dog.
Tilly brushed herself off, catching her breath. "Thanks."
Arthur nodded. "You alright?"
"I will be."
As Arthur turned and headed back toward the street, Cam lingered a moment longer. He stared at the alley the man had vanished down, then looked at Arthur's back—silent, strong, unflinching.
That was not a man you wanted to cross.
"Jesus…" Cam muttered, catching up to walk beside him. "I thought you were just gonna talk him down, not scare the piss outta him."
Arthur gave a sidelong glance, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Talkin' is what I did."
Cam let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."
Arthur shrugged. "Simple solution—don't."
"What was that all about?" Arthur asked.
"Just someone I used to know," Tilly muttered.
Cam didn't press, but he saw the way her jaw clenched.
Arthur looked over toward the Saints Hotel. "Karen's still not back?"
Mary-Beth shook her head. "She went in with some drunk feller. Said it'd be easy." She paused. "But they've been gone a while."
Arthur let out a long sigh and looked to Cam. "You got it?"
Cam blinked, caught off-guard. "Me?"
Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Go see if she's alright. You can handle it."
Cam gave a single nod, tightening the strap on his satchel as he turned and made his way toward the hotel. The sun caught in his collar, the air thick with the smell of horses and churned mud. Behind him, he could hear Mary-Beth murmuring something about not liking this one bit.
Inside the Saints Hotel, the light dimmed to a warm haze of tobacco smoke and old varnish. Cam approached the front desk where a balding clerk in a mustard vest glanced up.
"Can I help you, sir?" the man asked, voice uncertain.
"I'm lookin' for a woman came in with a drunk man earlier," Cam said. "Blonde, sharp smile, loud voice. Mid-twenties. You'd remember her."
The clerk shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah… 2B, upstairs. Are you, uh, a friend of his?"
Cam's voice was cool. "I'm whatever she needs me to be."
He didn't wait for a response.
Upstairs, the floor creaked beneath his boots as he took the steps two at a time. He reached the landing — and heard it.
Karen's voice, muffled but fierce behind the door. "Get off me!"
A man's voice, slurred and ugly: "I'm gettin' what I paid for!"
Cam didn't think. He lowered his shoulder and slammed into the door — once, twice. The latch snapped and the door flew open with a splintered crack.
What he saw made his stomach knot.
Karen was pinned to the bed, one sleeve torn, hair wild, eyes burning with fury and fear. The drunk bastard turned toward him, red-faced, fists ready.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Cam's voice was ice.
"The guy who's gonna break your face."
The man lunged first — a mistake. Cam sidestepped, grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The man swung wildly, hitting Cam's jaw, but Cam didn't flinch. He drove a punch into the man's gut, then followed with an elbow to the nose that sent him crumpling to the floor, groaning.
"I paid!" the man wheezed. "I paid good money!"
"You didn't pay to lay hands on her," Cam growled, standing over him. "You touch her again and I'll make sure you leave this town in a damn pine box."
Karen sat up, her chest rising and falling, eyes fixed on Cam like she wasn't sure whether to thank him or slap him.
"You okay?" Cam asked, his voice low now.
Karen nodded, swallowing. "Yeah… I just—I had him right up until he stopped drinkin'."
Cam held out a hand and she took it, rising slowly from the bed.
"You sure you're alright?"
She nodded again, brushing her hair back. "I've handled worse. Just caught me off guard. He was boastin' about the bank, you know. Big money passin' through. Livestock town and all."
Cam raised a brow. "That worth the risk?"
Karen gave a half-smirk. "Depends how dumb the drunk is, I guess."
Cam chuckled lightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. He looked down at the unconscious man bleeding on the floor. "I'll take that as a 'no.'"
They stepped out of the room, Karen fixing her coat as they headed down the stairs.
The hotel clerk stiffened at the sight of them. "Uh... everything alright up there?"
Karen shot him a look. "Just fine."
Outside, the light of day washed over them again. Cam held the door open and Karen stepped out, slowing when she realized he was still beside her.
She turned toward him, her voice quieter. "Thank you."
Cam shook his head. "You don't owe me that."
Karen stared at him a moment. "I don't like bein' saved."
"I figured."
"But if I have to be… I'm glad it was you."
Cam's lips twitched in something like a smile. "Don't make a habit of it, alright?"
She laughed. Genuinely this time.
They crossed the street and joined the others.
Tilly rushed over, eyes scanning Karen. "You alright?"
Karen shrugged. "Sure. He only punched me."
Mary-Beth frowned. "That son of a—"
Karen muttered, "Bet he regrets it now."
Cam leaned against the wagon, eyes scanning the street. But his mind was still upstairs in that room. And beside him, Karen stood quietly — not broken, but a little cracked around the edges.
He didn't say anything more.
But she stepped a bit closer, close enough for their shoulders to touch.
The air shifted before the trouble even spoke.
Mary-Beth's chatter faded as her eyes caught something across the street. "Hey... who's that guy over there lookin' at us?"
Cam followed her gaze. A man on a horse, eyes sharp, locked dead on Arthur like he'd just recognized the devil.
"You," the man said, pointing a gloved hand. "Weren't you in Blackwater a few weeks back?"
Arthur tensed. Cam saw it in the way his shoulder dropped, casual-like — but ready.
"Me? No, sir," Arthur said with a faint drawl. "Ain't from there."
"Oh, you were," the man pressed. "I saw you. With a group. Just outside town. You had that look."
Arthur tilted his head. "Me? Nah. Must be someone else."
But something in his voice said otherwise.
"Listen, buddy," Arthur started forward. "Come here for a minute."
The man's heels snapped back and his horse jerked into motion.
"I saw you—" he called, and then he was off, thundering down the road.
"Shit," Cam muttered, already pushing off the wagon's side.
"I don't like this," Uncle grumbled.
"Me neither." Arthur swung onto a stranger's nearby horse. "Get the girls home."
He turned to go, but Cam didn't hesitate. "I'll follow."
"You got no horse."
"I've got feet."
Arthur blinked, then gave a slight nod. "Just stay back."
He kicked off, chasing after the stranger, hooves tearing down the street.
Cam cursed under his breath and took off running, boots pounding against the dirt road. Valentine blurred around him — shouts, startled townsfolk, someone yelling about a stolen horse. He pushed harder, sprinting around the corner just in time to see Arthur vanishing behind the barns.
Cam didn't stop.
He vaulted over a hitching post, cut through the muddy stables, and spotted a young boy leading a mule near the fence.
"Kid—sorry," Cam said, already grabbing the reins. "Borrowin' it!"
"H-Hey!"
The mule brayed, unimpressed, but Cam threw himself onto the saddle like a man possessed.
The chase was on.
Up ahead, Arthur's figure moved swift and fluid, shouting to the fleeing man.
"Get back here right now! We need to talk, pal!"
"I don't want no trouble!" came the desperate reply.
Cam leaned into the sluggish rhythm of the mule, bumping along behind, branches slapping at his coat as the chase veered into the tree line. He wasn't fast — but he was stubborn. And he wasn't lettin' Arthur handle this one alone.
They tore through the trees, the man still ahead, wild-eyed and panicked. Cam ducked low, gritting his teeth.
"Don't be an idiot, just stop!" he shouted ahead.
Arthur was closing in now, his voice booming through the woods. "You stop right here!"
The trees thinned — and suddenly the world opened to a steep bluff.
"Whoa!" Cam yanked hard on the reins just as the man's horse lost control near the edge.
"HYAH!"
The stranger screamed — and then he was over.
Cam slid off the mule, stumbling forward as Arthur dismounted and peered over the cliff.
The man hung there, clutching a jutting root, dangling over the open air above the Dakota River.
The man screamed before they even reached the edge.
"Help! Someone!"
Cam skidded to a halt, boots digging into loose soil, chest heaving as he looked down over the bluff. Below them, the man hung off the cliff's edge by a root, legs swinging wildly, desperation etched across his pale face.
Arthur stepped up beside Cam, jaw clenched, hat shadowing his eyes.
"You have to help me!" the man cried.
Cam looked down, the weight of the moment setting in. "Well... ain't this somethin'."
Arthur didn't say anything at first. Just stared. Cold, unreadable.
Cam narrowed his eyes, then stepped forward slowly, his voice low. "What're we gonna do, Arthur?"
Arthur's voice finally came, rough and distant. "Why are you tellin' lies about me?"
The man looked like he'd cry. "No, no! I—I got it wrong, partner! Got it very wrong! Now please, help me up!"
Arthur didn't move. "I ain't never been in Blackwater…"
The man stammered, "Then why… why were you chasin' me?"
Arthur tilted his head. "I've got an unfortunate face."
Cam let out a quiet exhale, almost a laugh. But it didn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah… me too," the man whispered. "Now please… please pull me up. Come on. I'm beggin' ya."
Arthur stood there. Still. Torn.
Cam stepped closer, voice firm. "Arthur…"
Arthur didn't look back, but he heard him. "You trust him?"
"No," Cam said plainly. "But I'd rather carry the weight of savin' a liar than killin' a scared man beggin' for his life."
Silence.
Then Arthur stepped forward. "Alright… come on."
He grabbed the man's arm and pulled. Cam reached down too, steadying the guy's foot with his own boot to give leverage. The man scrambled up over the ledge, collapsing onto the dirt, gasping.
"You okay, partner?" Arthur asked.
The man coughed. "No... no, I am not."
"Well, you ain't dead," Cam muttered.
"There's that…" The man slowly sat up, dusting himself off, still shaking. "I'm a mess."
He stood, wobbling slightly, and held out a hand. "Jimmy. Jimmy Brooks."
Arthur stared at it. Then finally shook.
Cam stayed a step back, arms crossed, still watching him.
"I think it's best," Arthur said slowly, "if we pretend this never happened."
"Oh… I agree," Jimmy stammered. "You saved my life. You're a good man. And I, uh… Here—want a pen?"
He pulled a metal pen from his coat and handed it over.
Arthur looked at it, bemused, then took it. "That's kind of you… but I ain't a good man, Jimmy Brooks."
Arthur stepped forward, eyes cold. "Not usually. I was in Blackwater. I kill people. And maybe I shoulda killed you."
Cam didn't stop him. But he didn't look away either.
Arthur leaned in. "Should I have killed you, Jimmy Brooks?"
Jimmy swallowed hard. "Me? I… I never saw you. Not now, not ever. We—we have an understanding."
Arthur patted him on the shoulder, heavy. "Good. 'Cause I've got a good memory."
Cam finally spoke, voice calm and low. "You got lucky today, Jimmy. Don't make a habit of pokin' men who've got the Devil walkin' behind them."
Jimmy stumbled back, then turned and bolted for his horse. "I haven't! I haven't seen a thing! Not one lick! Not a damn sense in this here old mind!"
They watched him disappear down the trail, dust cloud following behind.
Arthur looked at the pen in his hand, then glanced at Cam. "You'd have helped him even if I hadn't."
Cam nodded. "It's not always about what a man deserves. Sometimes it's about what we can live with."
They stood there a moment, the wind whispering through the trees.
Then Arthur turned to the borrowed horse. "Let's head back."
"And return these damn animals," Cam said, patting the old mule that had somehow kept up with the whole chase. "Don't need folks thinkin' we're thieves on top of killers."
Back in Valentine
Cam guided the mule back through town while Arthur led the borrowed horse toward its rightful owner. The man's face lit up when he saw them.
"Hey! My horse! Am I glad to see you!"
Arthur gave a small nod. "Here's your horse back, friend."
"You really were just borrowin' it!"
Arthur tipped his hat. "Appreciate it."
Cam pulled the mule's reins into a knot and handed them off to the kid he took it from earlier.
"Didn't steal it," Cam said with a small grin. "Just tested its limits."
The boy's eyes went wide. "She ain't moved that fast in years…"
As the two of them walked off down the street, Cam said, "So... what happens if he talks anyway?"
Arthur shrugged. "Then I guess we deal with it."
Cam looked ahead, the sky just startin' to turn gold. "Let's just hope that pen's all he remembers."
Arthur smirked faintly. "Amen to that."