Chapter Text
"You're setting a fine example Mr Morgan", Grimshaw says to the man lifting two sacks of who knows what.
He nods at the remark and lays it on the ground. He walks across the camp and lifts two pales of water taking it slow and watching every step he takes making sure not a single drop spills out. That is until Jack breezes past him.
"Shit." The pale wasn't empty, but he did spill quite a bit.
Abigail inhales sharply and the worry lines show. "Oh I'm sorry Arthur!"
He chuckles and looks at the boy's mother. "Issokay, it's just water. I'm sure the boy didn't mean nothin by it."
He makes his way to the barrel and pours in what's left of it. Now, what's next?
Abigail stares at the man, worry still apparent.
"You okay Abigail?" Tilly asks sweetly.
"Yeah... um", she looks to Tilly, "do you notice something different about Arthur?"
"Different? How so?"
"I don't know. I just... when I look at him something feels different." Abigail looks back at Arthur who is now chopping wood with too much enthusiasm for his own good.
"Something feels different when you look at him huh?" Tilly bumps Abigail's shoulder and wiggles her eyebrows up and down.
"Tilly!" She bumps back a bit harder, but out of good nature. They giggle. Abigail shakes her head. "You really don't notice anything?"
"No, I'm sorry. You want me to ask him about it?"
"No, it's okay. Thank you for the offer."
Tilly makes her way to Grimshaw who's watching them like a vulture, ready to tell them off for neglecting their duties in favor of gossip.
"Miss Jackson! Those carrots won't cut themselves now won't they?"
Abigail forces herself to stop staring and find her son. It doesn't take much effort on her part cause she sees the boy in Dutch's tent with the two fathers of the gang.
"Ah there you are Abigail. Little Jack here was hiding from you. Thinks you're mad at him for making Arthur spill water." The tent's owner explains.
"I'm sorry mama. I didn't mean for uncle Arthur to spill his water."
"Oh Jack, it's okay, but I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. Come on let's say sorry to your uncle."
The boy jumps out of Hosea's arms and holds his mama's hand. They make their way to the man in question, still chopping wood for the fire. Abigail nudges Jack forward and gives him a reassuring smile.
"I'm sorry I made you spill your water uncle Arthur", Jack says with puppy dog eyes.
"Aw issokay Jack. I know you didn't mean it." He takes another log on the stack and places it on top of the stump. "Go on now. Don't need to say any more sorrys." Jack runs off again, this time nearly making a drunk Uncle fall over.
Abigail sticks around and continues that staring session she was having a while ago. Arthur notices it and easily becomes self conscious. He heaves the axe back and hits the log dead center and straight on through.
"Ehem, Miss Roberts." He nods in her direction and she's pulled back from her trance. Her cheeks go rosy as she quickly diverts her gaze. "Sorry, I- I didn't mean to stare. I just-"
Her eyes drift back and she stares yet again with her brows furrowed and arms crossed.
"Am I chopping the wood wrong or..." Arthur sets the axe down and places his hand on his belt.
"No! No, not at all. I'm sorry Arthur I don't know what's gotten into me. I just feel like something's wrong with you."
Wow, that did not come out the way she wanted it to.
The corners of his mouth tilt down, and his expression becomes downcast, but he tries his best to cover it up. "I'm sorry, Abigail-"
"No! Oh god that's not what I meant at all!" She gets closer and lays a hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry Arthur. Nothing's wrong with you. I just feel like something's different about you that's all."
He felt a bit better knowing she didn't mean what she said in that way, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried about this "different" thing Abigail was saying.
"Well, is it bad?"
"I don't know... I think It's bad, but I don't think it's your fault that it's bad."
Arthur's brows knit together, eyes squint, and mouth forms a small pout. "What?"
"Oh nevermind. I'm sorry, Arthur. Forget I said anything. I'm probably worrying about nothing."
"Uhh, okay?"
Abigail walks back to her tent still clearly thinking about what's changed about the man.
"Hmm..." He wonders about himself quietly as he chops another piece from the pile.