Chapter Text
2 Years Later – December 3rd 1882 – Half A Mile From Strawberry
“I can’t believe it’s been two years already, Hosea,” Arthur Morgan said, smiling as they chopped wood beside a small cabin, overlooking the vast wooded landscape below. In the distance, they could see the small town of Strawberry, the nearest thing to civilisation they had.
“I know, son, I know,” the Beta agreed. “Time flies, certainly! I look at you and I’m amazed! You’ve shot up about a foot and filled out. You’ve become a man before my eyes, Arthur, and I am so proud of you.”
Arthur smiled shyly and looked down at himself. It was true. He had filled out with muscle and had lost the gangly, adolescent look. He had to shave now! He knew he was still different; an Omega male was usually fairly small, feminine looking with limited muscle and such. Hence why they were so appealing and in high demands in brothels!
He wasn’t. His skin was still baby soft, and had been since he presented, and he had the soft, inviting scent of an Omega, but physically he was tall, well built and manly looking. Most, before the scented him, assumed he was an Alpha, and a supreme Alpha too, like Dutch, having been born to an Omega parent. It shocked others that he wasn’t and many called him a freak, either to his face or behind his back.
That didn’t worry him in the slightest. What other people said didn’t matter. But he had been worried that Dutch would regret claiming him. He had been just seventeen when the Alpha had mated him, and he had still been soft and ‘delicate’ in a way. In the following year, he had grown in height and muscle and had started to grow facial hair. He had become, as Hosea said, a man.
Naturally, Dutch had noticed, about 3 months after the changes had occurred, the Arthur was not himself. They had been staying near some god-awful place called Van Horn which was so corrupt that there was no element of law and order at all, and they’d done well there, naturally. However, it had gone sour when a mangy Alpha had ignored Arthur’s mark and tried it on. Dutch had broken the man’s neck and they’d left in a hurry. At least this time they got away with the loot!
It was camping in the woods that night when Dutch had taken Arthur for a walk and asked what was wrong.
He’d hardly started to ask when Arthur had let it all out in a hot, teary rush…
“I’m worried you won’t want me now, Dutch, cause I’m not like other Omegas. I’m…I’m all tall and big and-“
He had gotten no further as Dutch had pulled him into a crushing and desperate embrace, one hand over Arthur’s claiming mark, the other low on his back. “Arthur, you listen to me son. I love you, for yourself, not for your muscles or lack of them, not for your height or lack of it; I love you for you, Arthur Morgan. When we mated, that wasn’t conditional on your appearance, lad…It’s forever. Nothing would stop me from loving you, Arthur. Nothing.” Dutch had pulled back and looked into his mate’s eyes; even Arthur, self-doubting and unsure, could see the sincerity there. He’d never doubted it again.
“Thanks, Hosea,” he smiled and swung his axe again. “If not for you and Dutch, I’d have been dead by now, I imagine! Apparently, most street kids only last three or four years…If that. If they don’t starve or freeze, they’ll die in some fight with other urchins, or else get picked up for some crime or other and hanged…Poor bastards.” He shook his head sadly, thanking God for sending Dutch and Hosea to him and saving him from the same fate!
“Not to mention,” he added, “If I’d gotten to seventeen and then presented…Jesus, Hosea, can you imagine it?”
Hosea could. He had had the same conversation with Dutch, back in that camp on the plains before it had all happened. “Yes, Arthur. I can…Both me and Dutch have seen a lot of things, son, and we’d never have wished them on you.”
“Yeah…” Arthur fell silent, thinking of all the things he had seen too. Few of them pleasant. “When d’you think he’ll be back?” he asked, changing the subject to avoid having to face the thoughts swirling in his head.
“Dutch?” Hosea stacked the logs he was holding in the wood store lean-two at the back of the cottage. “You know him, Arthur. He’ll appear when he’s good and ready. I doubt it even occurs to him to plan a time to return.”
“He plans everything else,” Arthur retorted with a smirk.
Hosea laughed. The lad was certainly quick when he wanted to be. “Well, he likes to say he does! Frankly, I am convinced sometimes he just makes it up as he goes along!”
“Who knows?” Arthur said, smiling shyly. He glanced out again at the road he could just see through the trees. They were off the beaten track here, as it were, with just a small road coming off the main one to Strawberry and West Elizabeth. It was quiet, safe and cosy. They’d been here nearly a month already, arriving in early November and were due to stay until the start of February when the worst of the weather had passed.
An old acquaintance of Hosea’s -who Arthur assumed had also been an old flame- owned the cottage but rarely stayed in it. Madame Marie-Therese Delphine of Paris, whose real name was Jane Riggs, born and raised in the said cottage and who had never left the country, was a renowned medium and spiritualist. She was also a clever con-woman who had run a few jobs with Hosea and Dutch back in their early days.
‘Marie-Therese’ spent most of her time travelling about in first-class train cars with her entourage now, appearing at wealthy socialite parties, or at the best of the best in hotels and theatres. However, she kept the cottage she had been raised in on, for sentimental reasons, and to give her a place to hide if angry clients came looking. She usually rented it out to a couple for hardly anything to make sure it was not left abandoned, and to give someone a place to live.
When Hosea had written to her, under the name of Anthony o’Creed, asking if she knew of any place they could hide out for winter, she had replied within days saying that, as it happened, her cottage would be empty for the winter months and if he promised to take care of it, and keep away thieves and so on, then he, and his companions, were welcome to it; free of charge!
They had arrived shortly after and found a three-roomed cottage, well-appointed and cosily fitted out. It had two bedrooms, one double and a smaller room with two single beds, and the main room that doubled as a kitchen and living area, with a fireplace at one end. It was fully equipped with everything they’d need from quilts, pillows and linen to pots and pans and silverware.
Arthur had fallen in love with the place if he was honest; it was rather like having a home again, not that living with his drunken, thieving father had been much of a home, but still…coming back to the same place each night, sleeping a proper bed with a roof over his head…sleeping in a proper bed with a roof over his head with Dutch…
That was what he liked the most if he was honest with himself. He and Dutch had the double bedroom to themselves, and every night -bar a couple when either he or the Alpha were out hunting or on a job- they fell asleep together…Arthur in Dutch’s arms, warm and safe and held back to chest with him. He had never slept so well as he had since they had come here.
Hosea said it was the mountain air, Dutch said it was good hunting, Arthur would swear blind it was being in Dutch’s arms. Either way, he was as happy as he had ever been.
“I reckon that’s enough wood, for now, son,” Hosea said, putting down his own axe and stretching. “Let’s head in and have some coffee. I think we have some venison left from last night too.”
Arthur nodded and lent his axe up against the lean-two then followed Hosea, casting one last look at the road before he headed inside the cottage. “I’ll go hunting tomorrow, see what I can find. Better head to town too, see if there’s any mail. D’you need anything?”
“Few tins of food maybe, just in case. Reckon we’ll get heavy snow soon and we don’t want to be stuck here and starve,” Hosea answered, setting the iron kettle on the fire to boil.
The Omega nodded and sat down at the scrubbed table. He glanced out of the window. They’d had a few snowstorms but nothing too bad yet, though the cottage was dusted with snow just now, almost like one of those gingerbread houses he had seen in a shop window once.
To keep himself from staring out of the window and waiting on Dutch like a puppy, Arthur pulled his journal -left on the table that morning- towards him and opened a fresh page. He tapped the pencil on the paper a few times then set about sketching Hosea at the fireplace.
“Hosea?” He asked, after a time, just as the Beta placed the steaming cup of coffee in front of him and sat down on the opposite side of the table.
“Hmm?”
“What’s the plan? I mean for after the winter. Where are we going?”
Hosea sipped his coffee for a moment and then said, “To be honest, Arthur…I don’t know. Dutch reckons we can take a few good scores and live like Kings, but I know him, better than he knows himself I think…And he won’t ever settle. There will always be ‘another train’, ‘another bank’ or ‘another wealthy widow’ to rob. It’s in his blood.” He paused, thinking, then added, “But who knows? Maybe he will surprise me!”
Arthur nodded slowly then said, “But it’s fun, I mean, the scores and that.”
“Of course, but it carries danger and risk, son,” Hosea replied, sighing. “You’re young yet, Arthur. Very young, for all you’re a man. You…you get tired of the insecurity sometimes when you get older.”
“Oh,” Arthur hadn’t noticed. For him, the life of an outlaw still had an element of excitement and fun. It was wild and untamed! He loved it. Still, he guessed it might become tedious when he was Hosea’s age. “Do…d’you ever think of leaving?”
Hosea was quiet for a time, so long in fact, Arthur was sure he wasn’t going to answer. “Sometimes, son, sometimes,” was all he said before he rose and took his coffee into his room. “I’m going to have a rest. Wake me when Dutch appears if he comes back tonight.”
Arthur swallowed. He was sure he had said something wrong but couldn’t work out what. “S-sure, Hosea,” he replied, wincing when the door closed on him, despite it being closed perfectly normally and not slammed.
Was Hosea really considering leaving them? He knew he and Dutch had been having hushed words in the evenings. Sometimes looking rather heated, though they’d always tell Arthur to go get some wood, or else wait until they thought him asleep. In some ways, they still treated him like a child. He knew why, but still, it irked him somewhat. What had been said that he was not privy too?
He stared at the door to Hosea’s room for a little while more then sighed and looked back at his journal. The drawing of Hosea was half done…he might as well finish it so he bent his head and carried on sketching from memory.
Outside the sky darkened and night swept over the valley.
After an hour or so Arthur looked up and realised, he was sitting in half-darkness. He rose and walked over to the fire, which had burned down to embers and tossed a log onto it. He gave it a shake and added another, waiting until it caught before moving around and lighting the oil lamps on the walls.
His stomach growled just as he lit the last lamp. He glanced at the window but saw nothing but blackness. He should put a lamp out for Dutch and then get some dinner cooked. He picked up the mental miner’s lamp that sat by the door and lit it before heading out.
The air smelt fresh and cold; the snow was coming. Arthur liked the snow, despite the cold of it. He liked the smell, the feel of it, the way Dutch would warm him up after they had been outside…
Arthur shifted and coughed then hastily hung the lamp on the bracket by the front door. He turned and gave a last look in the direction of the road but heard nothing. He sighed and came back inside. “Hosea?” he crossed to the door and knocked.
“Yes, Arthur?” came the reply.
“Ain’t no sign of Dutch, so…shall I just heat up the leftover stew?”
He heard a chair scraping and a second later Hosea opened the door and came out. “I’ll do it, lad,” he said, smiling. “You take a seat. I can smell your concern…You’ll likely burn yourself!”
Arthur blushed and rubbed his neck, his fingers tracing over the permanent scar of his claiming bite. “I can’t help it, Hosea…I just…when he’s gone, I just feel so…lost…”
“That’s natural, Arthur. It’s part of being mated,” the Beta replied. “You and Dutch are tied together now. You’ll feel more comfortable when he is near.”
“Is…is that why I’ve been sleeping so well here?”
Hosea chuckled, “Ah, this again? I think it’s a combination of a few things, Arthur. A bed, for a start.”
“I suppose,” Arthur laid the table and smirked a little. It was all rather domestic, he realised. Not that that was a bad thing, but it had just occurred to him, despite nearly a month of this, that they were living like a proper family…not a band of outlaws in the woods.
Hosea set about cooking dinner while Arthur sat watching the windows, ears straining to hear Dutch approaching.
_
Eventually, at nearly midnight, Arthur gave up and went to bed, alone. He left Hosea to see to the lamps, at the Beta’s insistence and closed the door behind him. He sighed and stared at the empty double bed, with the patchwork quilt -it was the tree of life design, he knew that from his mother- then started to remove his clothes.
He shrugged off his shirt and boots, then pants, leaving himself in just his union suit. Arthur cracked his neck, stretched then climbed into bed and stretched again, in the cold sheets. He turned his head to the candle that flickered on the bedside table. After a pause, he blew it out, turned on his side and closed his eyes.
Arthur stretched out one hand to Dutch’s side of the bed and stroked the empty sheet. He bit his lip. He could smell Dutch’s scent; more so than ever, in the bed, and he missed him with a physical pain almost.
“Dutch…” he whispered, gripping the sheet. “Come back…”