Arthur Morgan's Arc

Chapter 8 of 8

The peddler had rattled off two days back, but Arthur couldn't sleep on a paid man's word. That morning he told John to take Violet on with the wagons. He wanted to know where the peddler had gone, and whether the Blackwater lie still held. John spat in the dirt and didn't move. He was the hard, quiet man who'd pulled Violet into the trees when the trading post went bad. He'd advised Arthur more than once, and he didn't like this. "You bought his silence," John said. "Now you want to buy proof of it. That's chasing a coin down a well." "A coin buys quiet till a better price comes," Arthur said. "I need to see which town he rode to. If he sold the lie, we're clear. If he sold my name, I'd rather know now than at a gun barrel." John studied him. Then he nodded once and turned his horse toward the wagons. "Don't ride into a town they already know your face in." Arthur backtracked the cart's trail alone. The wheel ruts ran east, not the way a mule trader bound for Blackwater would go. That worried him. By afternoon he reached a small crossroads town, one street and a low store. He kept his hat down and tied off outside. Inside, two men leaned on the counter, talking low. Arthur read them the way he'd taught Violet to read. Not travelers. One kept his hand near his belt. The other watched the door. Bounty hunters, waiting. "Heard a peddler come through," Arthur said, easy. "Selling pots." The near man laughed. "Selling names. Told us a mule trader named Callahan run south for Blackwater." He shook his head. "We already rode south. Nothing. So we're sitting on the peddler's other trails." Arthur's chest went cold, then steadied. The lie had held. They'd chased it south and found empty road. "Blackwater's a long ride for nothing," he said. "Long ride," the man agreed. "Peddler swore by it. We'll wring him again when he circles back." Arthur bought tobacco he didn't want and left. He mounted and rode east, away from town, until the store dropped from sight. The Blackwater story was live. Two hunters had already burned days on it. The peddler had sold the false lead, not the truth. But the peddler was circling back. And these men meant to squeeze him a second time. A frightened man questioned twice tells everything to make the questions stop. Arthur turned his horse and pushed hard to catch the wagons before dark. The lie was working. That was the trouble. It would only work until the peddler talked again, and Arthur no longer knew where the man was or when he'd break. He'd spared one mouth, and now that mouth held his life and Violet's both.