Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Shame was an overwhelming thing.

It’s like an awful pit that forms in your gut, and makes your head get dizzy with hot embarrassment. Flooding your brain until it becomes the only feeling you can focus on. Creating the overwhelming feeling of needing to break away and hide from the world around you. Wishing to be lonely rather than seen.

It was a feeling that Arthur had become quite familiar with over the past couple of months. The urge of wanting to duck his head down, avoid everyone that has eyes, and run. Not that he has anywhere else to go. He wants to run to his Ma, but that'd only lead to a grave. He wants to run to his home, but there'd be no one waiting for him. 

Not in a comforting way, at least. Not in a loving way. 

Not to say that his father didn't care for him. Arthur knows that Pa loves him. He surely does! He just has a funny way of showing it. Especially after his ma passed. He's doing his best though, Arthur knows that. He just wishes that the man would have more patience with Arthur. He misses her just as much. He's trying just as much. Pulling, or trying to pull, his weight so he and his dad can survive. He knows that he makes it harder for his father, but sometimes it feels like the old man causes more problems than Arthur ever does.

When looking at the man in question, talking to a feller who is clearly not interested in talking to Pa, Arthur feels the pit beginning to form in his stomach. 

He wishes the old man would look for work instead of turning to thievery. 

Pa can work a job. He did when Ma was alive–after she'd first fallen ill. Not that it made a difference. They still didn't have enough money to buy her medicine and still afford food for the week, so he took to pick-pocketing as a side hustle. Later teaching Arthur to do the same.

At first, he’ll admit it was exciting to learn how to pick-pocket. Pa had never paid so much attention to him before. He spent so much time with him! Teaching Arthur what kinds of folk to look for, what time of day was busier and how to sneak through crowded areas, how to be present yet unnoticed. It made Arthur feel smart. His father was teaching him important life lessons and skills just like how fathers were meant to teach their sons. Arthur felt important.

Now, he can't even bring himself to think of his father in a kind light. Instead, an unnerving weight grows in his stomach at the sight of Pa, crawling up to his throat and rooting itself firmly within him.  He knew that what they’re doing ain't right. 

"It don't matter none what's right, right now son. I'm telling you to do something, so you do it!" That's what Arthur was told along with a smack over top of his head. 

They need the money.  

Most folk do, but Pa has told him that they need it more. “There’s some folk about who want money from us. Folks who will get it one way or another. If you like having a roof to sleep under you’re gonna help me, son.” 

Arthur liked having a roof above his head at night, so here he is. Waiting for a signal. A gesture from his pa that would tell him it was time to run past them. His job in his father's plan was very simple. Wait for Pa to slide whatever goods he snatches into his back pocket, then Arthur would rush past him and the traveler. Taking the prize out of Pa's pocket and into Arthur's. Then, Arthur is to make his way back to their small cabin and sit in the loft till Pa gets back.

It was the same set up they'd done twice this week. It was fool proof–that's what Pa tells him anyways. Arthur looks like nothing more than some street rat brushing past two fellas as he runs about the town. If the feller they're robbing notices something missing, then his father can distract them until Arthur distances himself and the stolen goods away from being found.

The man his father was talking to was from nowhere near Wrathrun. He wore nicer, cleaner clothes. The kind not many folk around here could afford. A fancy black vest with golden buttons and a nice leather satchel wrapped around him. Slicked back hair and heavy, dark eyebrows. He looked very serious, and a little strange. Maybe just a tad too out of place. Especially compared to folk like Arthur and Pa. 

He was watching in an alley just a couple yards back from the pair. Pa was talking and waving his hands around dramatically. Putting on a show for the traveler–who looked thoroughly unamused. Something in Arthur's gut told him that this was wrong. Not only in the moral sense–no, something was wrong. 

"You! You're the bastard that stole my horse!"

He couldn't see who hollered, but it didn't take long to spot him.. 

A large man was marching towards his pa and the traveler. Pa catches sight of him at the same time Arthur does and decides right then and there that it was time to go. The traveler seems startled as well, before moving out of Pa’s way as the angry man begins chasing after him.

"Pa!" He jumps from his position in the shadows before thinking much else.

Arthur stills. His eyes wide. Pa never got the money. He looks up at the man with fancy clothes, who was now looking at Arthur with scrutinizing eyes. He's intimidating, someone most people don't mess with much. 

There's some more yelling, and Arthur sees a few more men start giving chase after Pa. Men who were on horseback. Chaos breaks out so fast it almost makes him dizzy. 

Pa didn’t get the money. The money they need to live. To keep their home. To eat tonight. His father will be so angry. Arthur will have to face his father tonight after failing to get the cash they need to live. 

Something deep shifts in Arthur. 

He leaps for the traveler. Charging at him before the man has the chance to process the child coming towards him. He grabs onto the satchel wrapped around the man and pulls at it with all his strength. The man stumbles and pushes Arthur back. A deep voice echoes through his ears as the traveler yells something of surprise. Bewilderment written across his face. 

The strap of the bag gives way and rips. Almost sending Arthur to the ground before he catches himself. Immediately jumping up and sprinting as quickly as he could in the same direction as his father. 

His eyes frantically scanned the crowd. Searching for any sign of where he was. He could see people who had turned their heads to look at the scene from the corner of his eyes. Watching as No Good Lyle Morgan and his No Good Son run away from the problems they had started. Ain't that just a…simple picture. 

Further down the main road he finally spots his father. Who was being circled by the sheriff and his deputy on their horses, the town marshall, and the large man who had started the chase. Arthur stops himself, nearly tripping over his own feet as he watches Pa get beat to the ground with a hammering blow that lands on his head. Sending him down as they begin to brawl.

A realization washes over him. Even if his father miraculously wins this fight–it wouldn’t matter. Three more men, all belonging to the law, were surrounding him. Pa's going to be taken in.

 "Oh no..."

Fast, upcoming footsteps approach Arthur from behind his back. Whipping his head around just quick enough to see it’s the traveler and it seems he's brought a friend in tow.

Arthur risks one more glance to his father before he rushes off to whichever way his legs carry him. The boots he long since outgrew were causing his feet to ache and his stomach sent pains through his body. He hadn’t eaten any kind of supper last night and he and Pa had an early start for the day so there was no breakfast either. He manages to push through the pain as he runs through the alleys of town. He just has to out run the two men behind him. That's what he needs to focus on. He slips into a tight alleyway, one he knows most grown men can’t fit through. Squeezing his way through the damp, dirty space as quickly as he could. 

Coming out the other side, he's met with the town's small, but busy, street market. There’s no sign of the traveler or his friend, but that doesn't mean he’s safe yet. Arthur makes his way into the crowd–following the chaos as far across town as it could take him. He decides that he’ll jump the fence at the stable and cross the field to the old abandoned shed. There have been stories of dead bodies being hidden inside it, but Arthur had broken into it before and all he had found was some rusted horseshoes and rotted saddles. It was a let down at the time, but now he knew where to hide in times like this. Nobody goes near it or ever thinks to check it.

He does exactly as he planned, for once, managing to make his way over the fence and across the field without causing any suspicion. Never stopping to breathe or give his aching legs the break they’re begging for. When he finally set his eyes on the weather-worn shed, a sense of relief washes over him. It provides the perfect place to lay low while he rests.  

The smell of damp and rotted wood fills his nose when he slides the door open. Groaning as if it were alive and telling Arthur to leave. He glances around inside before shutting the door and finding a place to sit.

Once he's situated, Arthur releases a shaky breath. Resting his head back against the wall as he takes a moment to himself.

The small cabin he and his father lived in would probably be taken. “Repossessed” was the word Pa had used before. He knew they owed a bunch of folk money and they had none to give. His father had told him that they’ll come to take their things if something ever happened to him. It was why Arthur had to help Pa the best he could. Protect him to make sure nothing happened to him.

They’ll take our home, boy. They’ll take this cabin, our money, and our food. Take anything they can get. They’ll probably take you too. Do you want that to happen, son?

He didn't want to lose his home. 

The weight in his lap pulls him out of his thoughts. The stolen bag.

A fine brown leather satchel. Slightly worn with some dirt along the seams, but it's still a pretty bag. He feels bad about the strap ripping. Not that he planned to return it, but it kinda ruins the purpose of having a satchel if you can't wear it around you.

Looking inside, Arthur almost forgets how to breathe. There's a few loose papers that Arthur can't read, a small coin pouch that is full enough to feed Arthur and his pa for two weeks, there's a small knife that's prettier than any ring or necklace Arthur's ever seen, and most importantly– A wad of cash. 

There must be at least fifteen bills in Arthur's hands. It's more money than he'd ever seen. 

An idea dawns on him. Can't folk bail others out of jail? He remembers hearing people talk about it in conversations he's overheard in town. Why, he could probably bail Pa out tomorrow morning!

He'll get his father out of jail with the bills from the satchel and Arthur was sure that he'd make him proud. Then he'll show Pa the coin bag and tell him they can get dinner for the next two weeks with it! Maybe more if they're careful with the spending. He wasn't sure what would come of the knife, but maybe Pa will let Arthur keep it. He'd earned it if you ask him.

He smiled to himself.

Arthur Morgan, the boy who saved his pa from jail!

--------

It was almost dusk and Arthur was struggling to light a fire. 

He had made his way back home to the cabin and packed his few belongings he wanted with him for the night. His blanket, a small canteen, and a packet of oatmeal that was hidden in Pa's old jacket. That was a lucky find Arthur thought.

He had wandered around in the woods, not super far from town but not too close either. He found a nice enough spot. It was flat enough to lay on and there was a spring just a couple feet down from him. Arthur has his blanket out to sleep on, his canteen filled with water from the spring, and now he's realized with the temperature dropping from the setting sun, it's going to be cold without a fire. 

He's only seen it done a handful of times, but it never took this long to start a fire. At least it sure didn't feel like it did. The longer Arthur sat here with the sticks in his hands the dumber he felt. 

Can't trust nothing with you, boy. The dogs in the streets got more brains than you.

Pa had said this to him not even a week ago. It made him feel so small at the time. He'd been told to bury a watch and some rings they'd stolen, so later once nobody would be looking for them, Arthur could dig them back up and Pa could trade them for something of more use. The only problem was Arthur forgot where he had buried them. 

Although, he swears he did remember. Arthur could've repeated where in his sleep from the amount of times he had to repeat it back to his father. The man had been yelling at him so much for losing them. Exactly between the old oak tree and the house–that's what Arthur had kept telling him. Pa made him sit there and dig up the yard that whole afternoon. Sweating in the heat with no clean water to drink from a two month drought that season. He suggested maybe someone had stolen it back from them, or that maybe Pa had already dug it up and had forgotten. Arthur immediately regretted blaming his old man because the slap across his face left a shiny bruise on his cheek for a couple days.

The smell of smoke pulls Arthur out of his thoughts. His eyebrows go high when he sees the small, glowing red marks on the bottom piece of wood. He carefully places dried grass on top of the wood for kindling then gently blows on it. More and more smoke begins to rise. It almost caused some alarm in Arthur's mind. There was a lot of smoke and no fire. After another minute of softly blowing against the kindling, he's able to quickly place it in a pile of twigs he had prepared and watch as his very first camp fire grows. He'll have to tell Pa about it tomorrow after he gets him out of jail!

Sitting back down on his blanket, Arthur takes a sip from his canteen. He watches the fire for a bit, as he's worried it'll go out. It will most likely will later tonight after he falls asleep and stops feeding it wood. 

Arthur gets bored of the fire after some time and dumps out the satchel to look at everything again. Excitement filling his chest. It was probably the best thievery he'll ever do in his life. Running off adrenaline and the element of surprise. He can't wait to show Pa. 

------

Arthur couldn't sleep. It was cold and he was hungry and if he were truly honest with himself–he was scared. Quite scared, actually. 

He had started walking after hearing howling. It wasn't close, at least, he doesn't think it was close...and he felt awful. Not just from the cold and hunger, but because he felt bad for his pa. Sleeping in a cell right now, on one of them uncomfortable benches in those cells. At least Arthur was free to walk outside. 

Walking down the trail he took to get to his camp spot, Arthur follows it back into town. Mindlessly walking the same paths he cycles through every day. Past the general store, turning left at the bank, cutting across the back porch of the post office. He made sure to be careful to avoid the saloon, and any folk wandering around it.

Eventually, Arthur was nearing the sheriff's office and neighboring jail house. He circles around it. Trying to see into any windows for any signs of his Pa. His heart thumps hard in his chest every step he takes. He doesn't understand why though, he ain't scared to see his pa. And he ain't scared of no police men. 

A sharp and quick whistle from directly ahead of Arthur makes him pause. 

"Hey!" A man's harsh whisper echoes off the wall. Followed by another whistle.

"Damn it, son! C'mere!"

Lower to the ground was a small barred window. It was hard to spot through the surrounding weeds and overgrown grass. Squinting, Arthur registers the face that was staring back at him.

Pa’s face.

Arthur nearly jolts and races to duck down to his knees to see through the barred window where Pa's shadowed face can be seen. 

During the whole walk into town he would have said seeing his old man in front of him would make him feel better, but now…sitting on the wet ground, eye level with him, and his face behind bars in the jail house cell–Arthur ain't too sure if anything could.

Pa's left eye is black and underneath the shadow from his hat in the dark–Arthur could barely even make out his face. From what he could tell though, he looked...like his usual self. Just...worse.

Older, more exhausted, and most noticeable to Arthur, angry. Staring back at his son in a way that usually told Arthur it was time to leave the old man alone for a while.

He's not sure what to say.

"Uh, look Pa I got th—"

"This is your fault, son. Where were you? You should've come runnin' after me! How'd you expect to get out of this fuckin' shit show without any help?" Lyle's voice slowly raises from a whisper to a near shout.

"-I don't even know why you've bothered to come now. What's your plan, huh? Huh? Are you gonna break me out of here in the dead of night? You gonna bail me out?"

"N-No! I mean–yes!" Arthur goes to show him the satchel, or he tries too. Pa's hand can't fit between the bars of the small window and it's hard to really see much of anything in the night.

"I got this off of the guy you were talkin' too! It's got money, and there's some coi–"

"Oh, you're gonna get me out of jail with your stolen five bucks? Is that your fuckin' plan?" Lyle sneers up at Arthur.

Even though Arthur was standing above his pa–he still shrinks down.

"Shit, I should've just considered a dog instead of you. Least they be loyal to their owners!" He hissed while throwing his fist against the bars.

"Pa, no, look!" He tries to take the clip with money, but his old man keeps talking over his shaky voice.

"Yes! You and your stolen purse! I see!" Lyle begins with a higher voice, "–oh, oh here Mr. Sheriff! Money I stole to get my out-lawed pa out the ol' slammer!" His voice echoes back through the cell, making Arthur tense at the increase of volume.

Lyle grits his teeth as he continues, this time his voice coming out a calm whisper. "You're dumber then your ma was. Thinkin' life is gonna be easy fuckin' walk through the park. Like a moth that can't get close enough to a damn fire." 

He grabs the bars either side of his face, letting out a string of loud swears while harshly rattling the metal as much as it lets him. Once he's done, Pa looks up to Arthur. Meeting his eyes

"You're one stupid son of a bitch, Arthur!" He then laughs. "And you ain't ever been a son of mine."

Chapter Text

Arthur stares at his Pa through the bars. He can't think to do much else. 

"Get outta here, Arthur..." Disdain riddled his voice.

"Pa, I-"

"Get lost!" Lyle spat at through the bars.

Arthur flinched. Jumping up and running out to the street. His eyes watered. He wasn't crying, he wasn't. Men don't cry. Men aren't meant to cry.

Pa was always harsh. He was a man with a cold face and even colder words. This was nothing new. Still, Arthur can't ever seem to stop the pain in his chest whenever those cold words would meet his ears. 

His heartbeat was echoing in his ears and it was getting harder to breathe. He thought for sure that Pa would be glad for the money. Glad that Arthur found a way out for him. A little part of him hoped Pa would be glad just to see Arthur.

Arthur knew he wasn't smart like his Pa wanted him to be. He can't even spell his own name. But he always tried to help his old man in any way he could. It just wasn't ever good help. Just like now. He should have known what to do to help his father. Though even now, he doesn't know what would’ve helped.

He so badly wishes he were smarter. He couldn’t save Pa from the law before, but there could be a way now? Pa said what he had stolen was only ten bucks, but maybe it could be a promise of sorts? Arthur gives them what he has now, and he can keep giving them the money until he's got enough to free him. That may work. The only thing was he didn't know the actual cost of freeing Pa. 

It can't be too much, right? It's not like the old man killed someone. 

He'll have to ask the Sheriff tomorrow– first thing in the morning. Although, the walk back to his camp and then back into town for the morning seemed pretty pointless. Arthur will just sleep in town. There was an okay spot between the sheriff's office and the bank. A nice alley way most folks never go through or check. It would be the best place to sleep tonight..

Arthur ties the long end of the satchels strap to the belt loops on his pants as he sits down. Making sure there's no chance of someone taking it without waking him. The ground is cold and he regrets not bringing his blanket...and the lucky oat meal. At least he'll be able to sleep in his loft tomorrow night. Once he grabs his stuff from his camp tomorrow evening and gets his corner situated like it was before, Arthur will never take it for granted ever again.

--------

Arthur awoke in confusion before remembering where he was. 

It was a very long night. It took him what felt like hours before finally falling asleep. His thoughts raced back and forth in his head keeping him from feeling any sort of peace. The strange noises that would pull him back into consciousness. A few times he'd be on the brink of sleep before his body would randomly jolt him back awake, making his heart thump for seemingly no reason. 

He doesn't remember falling asleep in all honesty.

Rubbing his eyes and neck, which hurt from the way his head had fallen to his chest, he sat up with squinting eyes.

The town was louder than usual for the morning, and judging by the look of things outside the alley, it must have been an important day for Wrathrun. Not that it mattered to Arthur. He has other plans for today.

He rounds the porch of the sheriff's office and knocks. When there's no answer Arthur decides to try his luck. He'll go inside, talk to the sheriff himself, and convince him to let Pa go. Guilt him into it if he needs to. 

‘Look mister! That's my Pa! I got some money to trade and you can let him go free. Please, ya can't keep him here."

He wipes his face with his sleeves and runs his fingers through his dirty hair. It didn't do much to make him look any cleaner, but it couldn't hurt to at least try. He reaches for the door, which seems to almost push itself open. Creaking slightly as it goes.

It's jarringly quiet inside, and after looking around he realizes that the office is completely empty. No sheriff or deputies, no bad guys locked in cells, no Pa...no anyone. 

Stepping inside the building, Arthur moves as carefully and as quietly as he can. Scared to make too much noise in the empty space. 

Where is everyone?

He approaches two desks that have papers and envelopes thrown about in trays with stacks of folders. Against the wall across from them are two cells. Neither of which had a window like Pa's.

Arthur remembers having to swat down on the ground to look him in the eye last night, so maybe Pa was in the cellar? 

Arthur looked around, but there weren't any doors that lead to a cellar. What did catch his eye however, was a wall with all kinds of wanted posters and mug shots hung against it. He scans through them, alarmed by how many there were. His breath stops short when he recognizes his father's face on one of them. His cold stare watching Arthur like he can really see him through the picture. 

He's holding a board in his hands with what Arthur assumes is his father's name written out as he at least recognizes his own last name when he sees it. There's more written below it, but to Arthur it's just scribbles and lines. 

Glancing around the empty room to make sure there's still no one around, Arthur quickly takes the mug shot off the wall and folds it down into his pocket. He's never had a picture of Pa before. They kept one of Ma in the cabin. Arthur loves it. The old portrait photo of her with a plain and simple smile facing the camera. S'pose this photo of Pa can go beside her if they cut off the bottom so it ain't no mug shot. It’ll be a lot smaller in size though.

Stepping back, he looks around the photos some more. Most fellas here Arthur's never seen before. There are two or three faces he does recognize from around town, though he's never met them.

Arthur was about to turn away from the wall when a face he does know stops him short. It's a wanted poster, with the longest list of crimes under his picture. Thick, heavy eyebrows and dark hair slicked back from his face, and a thoroughly unamused look on his face. 

It's the man Arthur robbed just yesterday. 

Holy shit. He robbed an outlaw.

Arthur moved to get a closer look at the picture. Wishing so badly to know what the print says. He tries sounding out the letters he does know but it really doesn't help much. His eyes scanning through the paper, falling to the bottom. Arthur cant read none, however, he knows the symbol of a dollar bill when he sees one. The dollar sign on this particular number is followed by quite a few zeros.

A thought hit him in the head. This man–this wanted outlaw–was in town. Arthur has seen him. Come face to face with him. Maybe ten dollars ain't enough to save Pa, but the reward for turning this man in certainly had to be and more. Way more. He'll find the man, lure him with his bag, and bring him into the hands of the law!

Arthur rips the poster off the wall and stuffs it into the satchel before rushing out the door.

Once outside, he's met with a crowd of people. A big one. Why, it might even be the whole dang town. 

From the porch of the sheriff's office he can see they've all gathered around near the center of town. Circling the big tree that lots of kids his age liked to climb. Lots of folk were talking and hollering, so he stopped to watch.

They seemed to be listening to a big man, with a heavy black coat and hat who Arthur knew to be the town's Marshal. He was usually seen helping folk to drunk folk get home, or handling petty fights in town. He was sitting on a horse that was attached to a small farm wagon. Standing on that wagon was Pa.

With a rope around his neck.

A bone chilling fear flooded Arthur's body.

"...Pa?" It came out a whisper. 

He wasted no time. Jumping off the side of the porch, he sprints fast as he can towards the crowd.

"Stop–Stop, you can't!"  

He nearly trips over twice before halting to a sudden stop at the crowd. Breathing hard as his eyes beginning to water.

"Please! Let me through!"

He tries to push his way through but someone grabs him. Stopping him from getting to the front. Stopping from getting to his Pa. He hears the crowd yelling to the marshal–no, to his father.

"That's my Pa, he–he's my Pa!" Arthur says as he fights against the man that's got a hold on him.

The man has a strong grip and he can not move. Arms wrap around him and he's carried away from the crowd. From Pa. He struggles against the man. As he's drug backwards. Back around the general store across from the jail. The terrifying scene was still visible even from what felt so far away.

"Please! Please–you can't!" A hand covers his mouth and pinches his nose with the thumb. He can barely see Pa anymore with all the folk from town in front of him.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Arthur was going to free him. He was supposed to be talking to the Sheriff right now. His Pa was going to walk out with him today. Arthur was going to save him. Arthur was supposed to save him. Now he's standing with a noose around his neck and he can't even see his Pa's face well because of the stupid hat he wears tilted down over his eyes. Gosh, Arthur bets he's fuming.

Arthur struggles harder. He withers and squirms until there's spots in his vision. His mouth and nose are still covered. He slows and is forced to watch. The marshal unmounts his horse and steps between the wagon and the crowd.

"We gather on this solemn day to bring justice to the good folk in our town, because ladies and gentlemen, without justice we're no better than the animals we hunt–" 

He can't hear too well, Arthur tries to pull his head away from the hand over his face again but doesn't do anything. Why are they doing this? Pa ain't nothing more than a petty thief. He's never hurt no one. Not badly anyhow. He needs to help him. He needs to–to give a...distraction.

Arthur's vision starts going dark. His head lolling forward.

"...'sea, let go."

"Shit."

Air fills his nose again. He blinks rapidly and tears fall down his face. Looking back up again, now dizzy with not just fear but from the lack of oxygen.

"–no good thievery that was done right under our noses. Lyle Morgan, we charge you larceny. A man guilty of petty crimes and theft throughout this town for far too long. And we, Mr. Morgan, the people of this town are angry with you and your wrong doings."

The folk around the tree yell when the man pauses his words. Some agreeing with the marshal, others shout profanities towards Pa. 

Arthur shuts his eyes and sucks in a shaky breath, he can feel more tears tracing down his face.

This ain't fair.

"Alright...Mr. Morgan, anything you'd like to say?"

Arthur sees his Pa tilt his face up. Just enough to look out to the crowd then to the marshal before lowering his head down again. Arthur would bet all the money in the satchel that his father spit at the marshal's feet. A few more profanities are shouted before the marshal cues his horse. 

It's like time slows. The horse trots some feet forwards taking the wagon with it. Pa's boots drag against the wood before he swings. His body dropping from the loss of support then slowly swinging back and forth. Arthur watches as his pa's feet kick and twitch. His hat falling to the ground beneath him. 

Even from where he's standing, Arthur can see how Pa’s face fades into a pale color. As if showing the life fade from his face. It is showing life fade from his face.

He's dangling there for what feels like forever before going completely limp.

Arthur is just as still. His legs went shaky. He can feel the man behind him supporting him up. He can't bring himself to look away.

When the hand leaves his face he doesn't even notice.

"Pa..." 

The crowd has fallen fairly quiet as well. After a minute or two, most of 'em disbanded. Going about their business like nothing ever happened. Like they didn't just cheer for a man meeting his end. Cheer for a man dying. His pa dying.

His pa's dead.

"Son." The strong hold on him lets go, and Arthur nearly falls backward. His head snaps around and his body soon follows. Senses coming back to him enough to put distance between him and the stranger. 

He's met with a face that he'd seen before, Arthur just can't place where right now. He can't think either. Turning his head back to the lifeless body hanging from the tree. The tree that kids climb and play on. A tree he himself has climbed through and played on. The tree where his pa's lifeless body now hung from.

"Hey, kid. Look at me." 

Arthur does. He looks at the man who has squatted down in front of him. Watching Arthur with patience in his eyes.

"That's my pa..." Arthur says. 

"He was my pa." It's the only thing he can think to say. The man's mouth frowns, and he turns to look behind him. There stood another man and two horses. 

The other man fills Arthur with a rage he's never felt before. 

There stood the man on the wanted poster. The man who Arthur robbed. The man whose money was on his very own hip right now. He's the man who was supposed to buy his Pa's freedom. 

The feller who was with him must have been who Arthur saw running after him when trying to get away yesterday. When Pa was caught. Now he's dead.

He's dead and it's these two outlaws' fault. These two outlaws. Arthur could scream it right now. Get the police over here in seconds. The marshal and sheriff even. Arthur would get more money then he'd ever seen. More money than his pa probably ever saw. His pa who was dead. Hung.

He breathes heavily. Looking between the men in front of him and his pa behind him. 

He slowly backs away. "I know who you two are." 

It'd be so easy to yell. He needs to get people to look over at them. He needs the money to free–

"Kid,–" the man on the poster starts, caution in his voice. "They would've taken you in–"

Arthur doesn't listen as the outlaw talks. Realizing that the money wouldn't free his pa. Pa's dead. His pa is dead and the money means nothing. Arthur's plan means nothing. He failed. He failed to free his father. He failed to save Pa.

He rips and satchel off his side. Throwing it on the ground at the two men's feet. It falls open and the poster slides out. Just a little. Just enough to see who was on it. 

He can't bring himself to yell.

He can't do to these men what happened to Pa. He can't be responsible for three men's deaths. He can't bear the thought of being an evil man. Arthur ain't going to grow to be a good man, he accepted that a while ago. Pa wasn't, so he certainly won't be. 

But he certainly won't be responsible for killing two more.

"Leave me alone." Its said as sternly as Arthur can sound. Which isn't very stern. His voice was still shaking as his wobbly legs put more distance between him and the outlaws in front of him. "I'm sorry. I won't take stuff no more." 

Then he runs. He runs back towards the tree. Towards his pa.

He slows the closer he gets. 

Everyone who had been there to watch are now nowhere to be seen. Gone to continue about their day as if nothing had happened. As if Arthur’s whole world hadn’t just fallen into pieces. 

Arthur stood at Pa's feet. Basically eye level with the man's boots. He looked up at his face.

The color in pa's cheeks was almost completely gone, leaving a pale and sickly hue in its place. His brows looked almost relaxed. The permanent scowl that he always wore was gone. His grey eyes half lidded, fixed and glassy as they were looking down. Almost directly at his hat. Arthur wonders if it was the last thing Pa was looking at. 

Arthur bent down. Collecting his father's hat and running his hands along the rim before putting it on around his head. It was too big to fit him but that didn't matter none to him. 

He looks back up to his pa for one last time. At least he don't look so angry anymore.