Lone Wolf of Saturnine

Help a Brother Out

"Arthur?" Charles leaned back and stared, incredulous at this turn of events. It was his friend, true enough, if a little worse for wear. A few waning bruises and scratches occupied his face, but he was nowhere near death.

In fact, Arthur grinned widely, displaying an abundance of good health. "How'd you find me way up here?"

His shock fading, Charles returned his own enthusiastic smile and admitted, "Truthfully, my friend, I wasn't expecting to find you above ground."

Arthur chuckled, in surprisingly good spirits. "Apparently, hell ain't ready for me yet."

Charles shook his head, shedding the rest of his disbelief. "Apparently, not."

Arthur glanced at the woman in the doorway. She'd lowered her gun, but was watching the two of them with clear apprehension. "Charles, this here is Mrs. Charlotte Balfour. Charlotte, Charles Smith, a good friend of mine."

At the introduction, Charlotte bestowed him a friendly smile for the first time, her wariness at last disappearing. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith. Any friend of Arthur's is a friend of mine."

He nodded to her. "You can call me Charles, ma'am. And my apologies for startling you."

"Oh, let's put it behind us, shall we?" she said graciously. "Why don't you two hitch the horses and come settle in? I was just about to put on a pot of coffee."

Arthur returned to his mare as Charles collected Taima. He followed Arthur to the front of the shed and they hitched their horses next to each other. His thoughts were spinning. As he'd heard from Johnny in Van Horn, Charlotte had found Arthur and now Charles was bearing witness to just how much she'd helped him.

But why had Arthur stuck around? He was upright and well enough to ride a horse. Why hadn't he tried to reach out at his first opportunity?

Charlotte smiled upon them as they entered the cabin, placing two mugs on the table. The room was sparsely decorated, making Charles wonder if Charlotte had only recently moved in. Arthur had introduced her as Mrs. Charlotte Balfour, but there weren't signs of a husband sharing this space. He remembered the dug grave at the bottom of the hill and could speculate as to who she had newly lost.

As she moved back to the stove to stir the contents of a pot, Charles commented, "This is a beautiful corner of the country you have up here."

Charlotte turned and said softly, "Yes, I've been incredibly lucky in that regard. If I could only learn to make more use of it."

Charles told her with honesty, "From what I can see, you seem to be doing well enough."

"Much of that is thanks to Arthur," she said in obvious gratitude. "More than I can ever repay, I fear."

Arthur protested, "There ain't nothin' to repay."

"Tell me, Charles," Charlotte asked as she poured the coffee, "has Arthur always been so stubbornly modest?"

The two went back and forth for a minute while Charles watched their exchange closely. They seemed comfortably familiar with each other, as if they'd been acquaintances for some time. But Charles didn't recall any mention of Arthur having a friend in the area, especially of anyone of any significance. Yet, he was witnessing a side of Arthur he'd never seen before as he grew ever more intrigued at this dynamic he'd stumbled upon.

Eventually, Charlotte picked up her mug from the table and said, "I'll leave you boys to catch up."

Before she left their company, she paused by Arthur's chair to squeeze his shoulder and smile down with discernible fondness. She told him to call her in if he needed anything and then she was out the door. Charles raised a brow, his assumption that they were more than friends gaining traction.