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“Oy!” Sean slung himself over one of the log seats surrounding the campfire, bottle in hand. It was only a quarter empty, which explained why the young Irishman’s whisper was merely at ‘most folks’ talking volume’ rather than his usual boisterous yell. “Was anyone gonna tell me King Arthur’s pining for Charlie?”
Javier looked up from tuning his guitar, eyes narrowed dangerously. “You gotta problem with that?”
Sean threw one hand up, slinging his other arm around Lenny’s shoulder, startling the second-youngest gun out of his book.
“Not me, compadre!” Sean assured, whiskey sloshing from his open bottle. “I’ve got my gripes about ole’ English, but his choice of dance partner ranks at the bottom of the list. I just didn’t know the old bear had a romantic bone in that overgrown body of his!”
Tilly looked over from where she was engaged in a vicious game of dominos with Hosea. “Arthur?” She laughed. “He’s always been a softie. You weren’t around for Mary.”
Hosea sighed, squinting in the fading sunlight at the conundrum before him. He knew for certain that Tilly had been swapping her tiles out, but he hadn’t caught her at it yet. Sometimes, he cursed himself for teaching the young woman quite so well. Usually when she was publicly handing him his ass at what used to be his favorite game.
“Leave off about Mary,” Hosea cautioned, picking up another domino with a frown. “I’m just glad the fool’s finally moved on.”
Sadie snorted into her beer. “Don’t know if I’d call what Arthur’s doing makin’ a move,” she joked. “Pretty sure Charles still don’t know that Arthur’s sweet on him.”
John looked around the circle, bafflement clear on his face. “What the hell are you all talkin’ about?” he said, looking around at the variously amused faces of the other outlaws. “Arthur ain’t sweet on Charles!”
Javier laughed. “Those wolves really did eat half your brain,” he joked, knocking his boot easily into John’s from the seat next to him. “Arthur’s been loco about Charles since we were near Valentine, idiot.”
Hosea hummed, laying a tile on the table between himself and Tilly. “Started before that,” he said. “I never could get that boy to put much effort into hunting. Then he and Charles went and shot those two deer together in Colter—”
“Oh, yeah,” Lenny jumped in. “Is that why Arthur’s always shooting at cans with that bow Charles made him?”
Hosea nodded. “Yep. Never mind two decades of the man who took him in practically begging him to learn how to help feed himself and the rest of the camp. Apparently, I needed to have long hair to convince him to take the time to actually track an animal.”
Tilly placed her next domino, smirking at Hosea’s suspicious glare when he found himself mysteriously out of moves. Again. “Pretty sure it ain’t just Charles’ hair Arthur’s sketching in that journal of his when he’s watching him chop up the woodpile.”
John sputtered, waving his hands at them. “Just ‘cause Arthur’s got a new hobby don’t mean he’s got a thing for Charles,” he insisted. “Y’all are just bein’ crazy.”
Sadie scoffed, plunking her beer down on the log next to her. “Betcha ten dollars,” she said, baring her teeth at John in a challenging grin. “We go ‘round the fire; everyone gets to say their piece.”
John looked interested despite himself and all brotherly instincts in favor of knowing as little about Arthur’s romantic life as possible. “And?”
Sadie sat back, grinning like a cougar. “If you still don’t believe us by tomorrow mornin’, I’ll pay up,” she offered magnanimously.
John stuck his hand out, shaking her hand. “Deal.”
Sadie nodded to Javier. “You start, songbird.”
“You know how Pearson’s been using all those pelts Arthur’s been bringing in to improve things around the camp?” Javier asked, fiddling with his guitar strings. “I figured it was just luck that Charles and my sleeping area got pelts first. But then I noticed that new jars of burn ointment kept appearing on the crate between our pallets. Then Arthur kept stopping by to ask if I knew where Charles was, or when he was getting off guard.”
“That’s horseshit,” John argued. “Arthur was just checkin’ on the roster, and someone had to get the pelts first.”
Javier shook his head. “Then,” he continued, visibly annoyed at being interrupted, “Arthur started showing up at our tent with two cups of coffee. One for him and one for Charles.”
“That’s actually kinda sweet,”Tilly said, smiling. “Arthur used to like to buy candies at the store for Mary, too. Don’t know if Charles has much of a sweet tooth, but he does like his coffee.”
“How’s he take it?” Sadie asked, curious.
Sean butted in, grinning like an idiot. The bottle in his hand had been drained down to about two-thirds. “Same way King Arthur takes his men,” Sean joked. “Strong and bla—”
Lenny casually shoved Sean off the log they were seated on, snatching the bottle from his friend’s flailing hand before it could meet an ignoble end alongside the redhead in the dirt.
Sean sprawled on the ground gracelessly, one pant leg snagged on a knot in the log. “Aye,” he wheezed, breathless. “I deserved that.”
Lenny took a swig of the whiskey, wincing. God, but Sean had a strong stomach. “I’d say I just noticed that Charles is the only one Arthur never pokes fun at on jobs,” he said, contemplative. “He’ll find something to poke everyone else about, but not Charles.”
“That’s because he’d like to give the big man a different sort of poke—” Sean piped up from the ground, grunting when Sadie’s empty beer bottle hit him square in the diaphragm. “Worth it!”
“Next one’s going for your family jewels,” Sadie warned, snatching another beer from the crate by the fire. “Keep a civil tongue in your head, Maguire, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Fuck’s sake!” Sean exclaimed, arms raised in surrender as he continued lying in the grass. It was a surprisingly comfortable position; the fading sunset was turning the clouds above them in all sorts of lovely colors. “I ain’t mean a thing by it! Like I care what English and our resident stormcloud are getting up to in the dark! Long as I don’t have to see Arthur’s hairy arse, I couldn’t care less!”
“Will you quit talkin’ about them like that?” John shouted, annoyed. “There ain’t nothin' goin’ on between those two!”
“Wake up, John,” Tilly said, winging a domino to hit John square between the eyes. “You notice he’s growin’ his beard out again?”
John furiously rubbed the red mark between his eyes, scowling as he chucked the domino back at his sister. “The hell does that have to do with anything?”
Tilly caught the domino, sticking her tongue out at John as she placed it triumphantly on the table between herself and Hosea, prompting another groan from the older man.
“He ain’t grown his beard out in years,” she insisted. “He hates going to the barber, so you know he just shaves it ‘cause he’s lazy. But I heard Charles tell him it looked good two weeks back, and he’s kept it up since. Growin’ his hair out, too.”
John shrugged, crossing his arms, clearly determined not to give into something as stupid as common sense or working eyes. “Maybe he’s got a gal in town,” he hedged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Sadie cocked an eyebrow, knocking her boot into John’s own. “Sure, John,” she said. “He’s got a girl in town, and he’s been drawin’ Charles shirtless every day because he needs the anatomy practice.”
John rounded on her. “And how the hell do you know? He doesn’t show anyone that shit!”
Sadie shrugged, closing her eyes as she sipped her beer. “Snuck up on him and got a peek.”
“Is he any good?” Lenny asked, looking up from his book. “Sean and I have a bet. I think he’s just shy; Sean thinks his art must be—”
“Dog shite!” Sean sang, thrusting one fist into the air.
Lenny looked down. “Do you want a hand up, man?”
Sean looked contemplative, brow furrowing. “Do I have to stop joking about Arthur’s johnson if I rejoin your civilized company, Leonard?”
Lenny sighed. “I’d prefer it.”
Sean shrugged, crossing his arms blithely under his head. “I’m good down here, then.”
“He’s good,” Sadie said. “Firm grasp of anatomy, if you catch my meaning.”
“I’ll bet,” Javier chuckled. “I feel like a fool when I think about it, considering the number of times I’ve watched Arthur trip over himself when Charles is hauling one of those hay bales over to the feed point.”
Tilly shrugged, placing her last domino. Hosea sighed, digging the bar of chocolate they’d been playing for out of his satchel. “To be fair to Arthur,” she said, accepting her prize. “It’s an arresting sight.”
“I ain’t lookin’ for anything on that side of the fence,” Sadie hedged. “But I got eyes—Arthur’s got good taste, that’s for sure.”
Hosea smiled to himself, a little dirty. Mr. Smith was far too young for him, but Hosea was old, not dead. “On that,” he said, “We can all agree.”
John was looking a little green at the continued discussion of his older brother’s totally non-existent crush on his friend when the man of the hour walked up to the fire with a bowl of stew in hand.
“Evening,” Charles said softly, nonchalantly sitting on the log opposite of Sadie.
You could hear the crickets starting their evening song down by the lake, it was so quiet.
Sean pulled himself back onto the log, eyes wide. “Charlie—”
“Not my name,” Charles cut him off, gruff.
“Charles,” Tilly tried, visibly delighted. “Why are you wearing Arthur’s hat?”
Charles blinked, free hand going to the worn leather cowboy hat perched on top of his head. “I don’t know.”
Sadie leaned across the circle, offering Charles a beer from the crate. He accepted wordlessly, nodding his thanks.
“What do ya mean, you don’t know?” she questioned, flicking the hat's brim with one finger, tilting it back from Charles’ slowly reddening face. “It’s on your head.”
Charles leaned back, hand going protectively to secure Arthur’s hat back in place. He pushed the brim back down, mouth twisting in a faint frown. “I woke up with it on.”
Tilly turned a triumphant smile on John, who was turning red as a field hand in a whorehouse.
“What do you mean, son?” Hosea asked, half because he was probably the only person at the fire that Charles wouldn’t refuse to answer now that they’d gotten his hackles up.
“I took a nap after I got back from hunting,” Charles said, jabbing over his shoulder with his thumb at the stand of trees near the scout fire. “Woke up with this on. Was gonna try and find Arthur after chow.”
Javier smirked, jabbing a sharp elbow into John’s ribs when the other man started cursing under his breath. “Got something to talk to him about, amigo?” Javier teased, waggling his brows.
Charles’ frown deepened, one of his brows climbing up beyond the wide brim of Arthur’s hat. “Just need to give him his hat back,” Charles said carefully. He looked around the circle with the slow caution of a man realizing he’d clearly wandered into a circle of unhinged maniacs. “Excuse me.”
Charles got up, hightailing it away from the fire like a cat with a burning branch tied to his tail.
Sadie took a contemplative sip of her beer, cocking her head as she watched him disappear between the tents. “He don’t know,” she concluded.
Lenny shook his head in amazement. “He really doesn’t.”
Javier chuckled, jabbing John again in the ribs. “Looks like you’re not the last one in camp to figure it out after all,” Javier teased, batting John’s hand away when his friend went for a retaliatory jab.
“I’m dumb,” John defended, “But even I’m not that thick.”
“Leave off of Charles,” Tilly defended. “Poor man probably never had anyone sweet on him like this before. Y’all know he was runnin’ on his own before us.”
Sean shook his head. “Tilly, there’s inexperienced, and there’s oblivious. Charlie-boy may be a master tracker, but I think we finally found the one thing ole’ eagle eye can’t spot: a six foot, eighteen-stone cowboy who wants to braid his hair and pick him flowers.”
“Charles will figure it out eventually,” Sadie said, holding her hand out for John to pay up. “He ain’t stupid.”
Hosea chuckled, getting up from the table and cracking his back. “I’ll wager all of you that Mr. Smith will be quite aware of Arthur’s affections by morning.”
John handed over Sadie’s money begrudgingly. “What makes you say that, Hosea?”
Hosea nodded. “You remember that year Arthur went off working that ranch up in Wyoming?”
John nodded. “Sure.”
“Our Arthur learned a lot more than breaking horses up there, if I remember,” Hosea said, grinning. “Two words for you, sonny boy: cowboy rule.”
John frowned. “Hosea,” he said. “I have no clue what the hell that means.”
“It’s simple, Marston,” Sadie laughed. “Wear the hat—”
Javier reached over a mortified John to high-five her, chuckling. “Ride the cowboy.”
Charles found Arthur refilling shotgun shells at the back of the ammo wagon.
“Arthur?” Charles called quietly, careful not to sneak up on the other man. He’d thought the two of them were getting on well, up until Colter. Since then Arthur has sometimes been…twitchy around him. Almost as if the grizzled cowboy was nervous in his presence.
Other times, things were fine. They’d taken to enjoying coffee together in the morning, unbroken silence stretching between the two of them like still water as they took in the sunrise. Charles had a lot to dislike about Lemoyne, but Clemens Point had its charms.
One of those charms unbent from the workbench he’d been hunched over, scrubbing a hand tiredly through his attractively shaggy hair. Which he could do, because that hat Arthur normally wore was perched on Charles’ head when he’d woken from his nap half an hour ago.
“Charles,” Arthur said, and there was something soft and sweet in the way he said Charles’ name, delicate as spun sugar. “Evening.”
Charles’ foolish heart stuttered in his breast. He let himself regret seeking Arthur out for one moment, then charged through. He’d never gained a thing by listening to his fears.
“Found your hat,” Charles joked, tipping the brim down as he approached. Arthur smiled at him, a warm, secret thing that Charles wanted to cup against his chest like a newborn bird. “Any clue how it ended up on my head?”
Arthur had the grace to blush, his ears turning scarlet. “You work harder than anyone else in camp,” he deflected, eyes darting to the side. “Didn’t want the sun wakin’ you up as it went down. You need your rest.”
Charles snorted, smiling. He drew closer, stepping into the warm circle of light cast by the lantern Arthur was working by. The sun was fully setting behind him, the last fading rays bringing out the red highlights in Arthur’s hair, the dark freckles on his skin.
The other man looked gorgeous, which was something Charles had been forced to get used to since joining the gang six months ago.
Arthur also looked nervous, which was a look Charles wasn’t so fond of.
“Never seen you let anyone else wear this,” Charles said softly, brushing his fingers across the worn leather brim. “Figured it was. Sentimental.”
Arthur nodded, tense. He didn’t draw back as Charles stepped closer. His eyes dropped noticeably to focus on Charles’ lips, before flicking back up to meet his gaze, pupils blown.
“Might’ve been I was feelin’ brave, earlier,” Arthur said, gruff.
Charles swallowed the butterflies doing their best to crawl out his throat. “Brave?”
Arthur grimaced. “This was easier when you were sleepin’,” he groused, looking askance. “Wasn’t countin on you trackin’ me down.”
Charles cocked his head. “What, uh.” He paused, wet his lips. Watched the way Arthur tracked the motion, his own tongue sneaking out to mimic the movement. Warmth built in Charles’ belly, fueling his confidence. “What were you counting on, then?”
Arthur scrubbed his hand through his hair, abashed. “You ever hear of the cowboy rule?”
Charles chuckled. “No, you fool.” He reached for Arthur’s hand, thrilling when the other man allowed him to pull it from his hair, down to rest at their sides. He and Arthur were standing chest to chest, now. “But I can guess.”
Charles tilted the brim of Arthur’s hat back, ducking up to close the space between them. His heart fluttered when Arthur let him. Then it soared as their lips met, warm and eager, Arthur’s free hand going immediately to the back of Charles’ neck, pulling him in close.
Neither of them noticed as Arthur’s hat tipped back off of Charles’ head, landing with a soft thump in the grass. Eventually, the two of them would look for the hat in the dark, long after the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky.
In the meantime, they continued kissing, blissfully oblivious.