Arthur Morgan's Arc

Chapter 1 of 8

Arthur Morgan wanted his daughter to grow into a real outlaw, and today the job was teaching her to keep her mouth shut. Violet was twelve. She sat on a crate by the fire pit, cleaning a revolver she was too young to fire. Around them the Horseshoe Overlook camp stirred with morning work. Arthur crouched beside her and spoke low. "There's a stranger in camp," he said. "He's been asking after me. You don't know my name. You don't know my face. Understand?" Violet looked up. "Why?" "Because a man asking questions is a man collecting a debt," Arthur said. He nodded toward the tents. A tall stranger stood near the wagons, a folded paper in his hand. A bounty poster. He wore a badge under his coat but no lawman's honesty. He was working every man in camp, one by one, showing the paper and watching faces. Dutch came from his tent, hat crooked, reading the room in a glance. He caught Arthur's eye and gave a small shake of the head. Stay calm. Let it pass. Dutch strolled toward the stranger with his arms open and his voice warm. "Friend, you're a long way from any town." But the stranger was already moving past him, straight for the fire. He'd seen Arthur. He held up the poster. The drawing was rough, but the jaw was right. "That's you," the man said. He reached under his coat. Arthur didn't wait. He put his boot into the crate and drove it into the stranger's knee. The man buckled. Arthur was on him before he cleared his gun, one hand on his wrist, the other twisting the pistol loose. They hit the dirt hard. Violet scrambled back, gun still in her small hands, pointed at the tangle of men. "Don't," Arthur barked at her. "Get back." He pinned the stranger and pressed a knee to his chest. Dutch arrived and pulled the poster from the man's fist, glanced at it, and fed it to the fire. The camp had gone quiet. Every hand watched. Arthur leaned close to the bounty hunter's ear. "You came alone. That was your mistake." He didn't kill him. He hauled him up, walked him to the brown mare tied at the edge of camp, and threw him across the saddle. He slapped the horse hard. It bolted down the slope with the man clinging on, cursing. Dutch watched the dust settle. "He'll talk," Dutch said quietly. "Whoever sent him will know you're here now." Arthur wiped blood from his knuckles. He looked at Violet, still frozen by the crate. "You froze," he said. "You pointed a gun and you froze." He crouched to her level. "Next time a stranger asks my name, you lie first and think later. That's the lesson." Violet nodded slow. She understood now. So did Arthur. The camp wasn't safe anymore, and the men coming next wouldn't ride alone.