Chapter 100: The Federal Government Demands Evidence, Sir
Horseshoe Overlook Camp.
Because Micah had come by last night to deliver a message, Abigail—already prone to anxiety—started pressing John again about leaving the gang.
John, irritated by the nagging, decided to leave camp and head toward Valentine.
Watching him walk away without a word, Abigail finally broke down in tears.
Arthur, seeing this, couldn’t help but go over to comfort her.
After all, he and Abigail had once been close—closer than most—and he still felt a bit protective toward her.
“Abigail, John just isn’t ready to be a father yet. Maybe if you give him some time, he’ll come around.”
Abigail lifted her tear-streaked face to look at him. With Arthur there, she felt steadier, as if she could lean on someone for a moment.
“I know, Arthur. I just wish he’d care a little more about little Jack. But every time, he lets me down.”
She glanced over at Jack, then turned back. “Arthur, can I ask you for a favor?”
“Could you maybe spend some time with little Jack? Do something together?”
“Ever since what happened back in Colter, he’s been so withdrawn. I’ve tried talking to John, but he doesn’t seem to care. Jack really likes you, Arthur. Maybe being around you would help him feel better.”
Arthur couldn’t say no to that. “Alright.”
At thirty-six, Arthur really was a proper uncle now. When he was younger, he’d had a child of his own.
Because of the gang, he could only visit every few months. Then, on one of those visits, his wife Eliza and their son Isaac had been murdered—for just ten dollars.
From that day on, Arthur had hardened.
Having lost a child, he saw Jack almost like his own son—and John’s indifference made him feel nothing but shame on the man’s behalf.
Jack found no warmth in John, but Arthur filled that space easily, and naturally, the boy grew close to him.
...
The Dakota River, west of Horseshoe Overlook.
Arthur brought little Jack there to go fishing.
What he didn’t realize was that, from the moment he left camp, a pair of eyes had been watching him.
“Mr. Milton, should we move in now?”
From a cliff nearby, Milton and Ross watched Arthur and the child by the river.
At Ross’s question, Milton shook his head. “Arthur Morgan. He may be an outlaw, but he’s got some kind of code—some conscience.”
“That boy is John Marston’s kid. He looks down enough as it is. We shouldn’t disturb them yet.”
Compared to Ross, Milton was clearly the more patient and understanding of the two.
They waited there quietly for nearly an hour.
When laughter finally drifted up from the riverbank, Milton spoke. “Alright, we can go now, Ross. Try to be a little more civil this time—don’t scare the boy.”
By the river, Jack was showing Arthur the grass necklace he’d made for his mother, Abigail.
Arthur heard hooves approaching and turned to see two men dismounting.
“Such a fine young man,” Milton said, “caught up in such a cruel and chaotic world.”
“Arthur, isn’t it? Arthur Morgan?”
He approached as he spoke.
Sensing trouble, Arthur instinctively stepped in front of Jack. “Who are you?”
Milton smiled faintly. “So you are Arthur Morgan—Van der Linde’s most trusted man.”
“Ross, you’ve read the files. A textbook case.”
“Street orphan, lured in by that silver-tongued lunatic, grew up into a killer.”
“I’m Agent Milton, and this is Agent Ross. Pinkerton Detective Agency, working for the federal government.”
“Finally, we meet, Arthur.”
Arthur stayed calm. “Mr. Milton, far as I know, the Pinkertons don’t have any legal authority in New Hanover anymore.”
Milton didn’t look surprised.
“Seems your former partner, Davey Callander, filled you in.”
“He’s right—we don’t hold jurisdiction here. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a wanted man.”
“You robbed a train owned by Leviticus Cornwall near Granite Pass. And by all accounts, the suspect was Van der Linde.”
Arthur answered evenly, “In times like these, Mr. Milton, maybe you ought to rely on evidence—not hearsay.”
Milton fell silent for a moment. He could tell those words were straight from Davey’s mouth.
“Listen, Mr. Morgan, I’ve got an offer for you. Hand over Van der Linde…”
“…and I can guarantee you won’t end up hanging from a rope.”
Arthur only smiled. Maybe once he’d feared the Pinkertons, but after learning the truth about them from Davey, that fear had long since faded.
“Mr. Milton, I won’t be hanging from any gallows. You see… I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”
He smirked. “This country’s supposed to be a place that values evidence.””
Author's Note
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