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I’m just a poor, wayfaring stranger,
Traveling through this world below
There is no sickness, no toil, no danger,
In that bright land to which I go…
Arthur Morgan, with each breath barely exiting his body, crawls to the edge of the mountainside. His body aching, his lungs burning, he knows this is it. This is the end.
Dutch had backed away and left him. Micah, his enemy, snarled and gurgled on his way back down the mountain as he retreated like the rat he is. Will he meet the Pinkertons there? Arthur doesn’t care. That isn’t what’s on his mind.
As his cracked and bloody fingers grip the gravel beneath him, he clutches to the hope that his brother John and his family made it out alive. If he didn’t do anything good in his life, it was this.
But he tried. In the end, he did.
And that has to count for something.
He pulls himself up onto a jutted out wall of the mountain’s cliff and lays his back against it with a hard gasp.
He turns to his left as he pants heavily. The sun is rising and he soon feels the warmth on his face. Death is welcoming him with her gentle arms and warm embrace.
He thought death would be cold, as he had seen it many times. It was, if not always, behind the cold barrel of a gun, so it has to be so.
But it isn’t. He hears a morning dove cooing in a nearby tree. It was a song he hasn’t heard in a while. It is, to him, like a sweet lullaby.
He thinks of his mother, for the first time in forever. He wonders if he will see her soon.
He takes in one more breath and exhales.
***
Gasp!
Arthur rises to a sitting position. It is day. He keeps taking in deep breaths and quickly looks around.
He sees a field of tall grasses. He’s on a hill. There are clouds in the sky and they are moving quickly as though a storm is rolling in, but there’s no rain and no gray.
It dawns on him that he’s not on the mountain.
“Where…where am I?”
He begins to move and realizes that his muscles don’t ache. His lungs don’t burn. In fact, he doesn’t really feel anything.
He also doesn’t notice the figure standing afar off. A smile forms on the man’s lips and he speaks.
“Arthur…”
Arthur quickly turns, surprised to hear the familiar voice.
It is Hosea. He’s younger. Near the age he was when Arthur first met him. But his smile and expression still carries the wisdom and wit he had moments before he died.
Arthur quickly rises to his feet and hurries over to him. “Hosea?” He still cannot believe his eyes.
They embrace and Arthur hugs his father tightly.
“I’m proud of you, son,” Hosea says and he releases Arthur from his embrace.
Arthur knows it now. He’s dead. And wherever he is, it is where his soul has gone to remain. His body is still on that mountainside, or perhaps it has been over a hundred years and his body has long since been decayed and gone. He feels a weight come over him, a life unfinished, and the people he left behind. “But,” he begins. “I couldn’t save everyone. If I died then...” His voice trembles. “Karen, Dutch, and the rest of them. I couldn’t stop them from…from…”
Hosea forms an empathetic smile. and he places a gentle hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Redemption comes in many ways. It’s never too late, Arthur. You clearly saw the error or your ways and you sacrificed your life for the truth, that’s why you’re here.” He pauses a moment, gesturing to the land around them. “And now you’re home.”
“But…” Arthur speaks, his voice edged with trepidation. “Is there…is there anyone else here? Did they make it?”
The smile on Hosea’s face grows and removing his arm, he motions for Arthur to follow. “Let’s go see!”
They begin to walk across the valley. As they walk across the lush, beauteous field, Arthur begins to notice the colors in the sky. As a gap forms in the clouds, he sees a myriad of stars twinkling with swirls of pink, blue, and green dancing around them. An Eagle flies above them as though it is about to break through the clouds and explore the galaxies behind them.
Arthur exhales at the sight. If he had his satchel with him, he’d sketch what he sees, but even if he hasn’t given it to John, he doesn’t think he could bring it with him here.
Hosea takes the lead and Arthur follows until he suddenly stops. They have reached the top of the hill and can see it slope down into a valley below.
And in that valley is a mass gathering of people. People he has never seen before. He turns to Hosea, expecting to get an answer but he only pats Arthur’s back. “Just go down there.”
Arthur hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave Hosea and the unknown frightens him. But then again, he was once afraid of death, and now he knows he has nothing to fear.
He begins to walk down the hill.
And he hears a voice call his name.
“Arthur!”
It is a youthful voice and it calls from within the crowd. He looks around and sees a group divide to reveal the outlaw that he had last seen on the roofs of Saint Denis.
Arthur feels his eyes sting and a lump in his throat. “Lenny, my boy!”
Lenny smiles. He looks clean and happy. When they are close enough, they clasp hands. “So this is you in your former glory, eh, Arthur?”
Arthur looks down at himself. There wasn’t a way of knowing, but he is younger looking. He lacks the scorched, leathery skin from the sun. He resembled himself when he was younger. Arthur grins. “I guess so.”
Lenny turns to a man beside him, who looks to be an older version of himself. “Father, this is Arthur Morgan.” The two men shake hands. They are strangers, but there is a mutual respect for one another. Lenny smiles. “There was someone looking for you, Arthur. She told us she’d meet you here.”
An excitement fills his mind as he begins to look around. “Who?”
Lenny quickly points into the crowd, and Arthur begins to walk in that direction, not sure what he is going to find. The sea of strangers part the way for him, almost with a unified knowledge of what he is searching for.
He sees other familiar faces, people he thought he’d never see again. He wants to greet them, but they all seem to know that he is on a mission.
He keeps going. He doesn’t know how fast to move, but he feels like he’s floating on air. Who has been looking for him? How long must he sail these seas?
Then a soft voice calls to him. “Arthur…”
He turns quickly and sees a woman standing there. He doesn’t initially recognize her at first. After all, he was just a child when she died.
But then she speaks again. “It’s me.”
And he remembers.
“Mama?”
She beams. Her dark hair braided in a bun, her dress still remnant of the 1860s. She opens her arms to him and he enters into her embrace. It is warm and welcoming and he is almost taken back to when he was a boy.
They part and she holds her son in front of her, taking him in. “You’re all grown up…”
Arthur bashfully looks down. “Sometimes.”
“And so handsome.”
He smiles sheepishly and chuckles. “You’re just sayin’ that.”
His mother, Beatrice, looks into her son's eyes, and there is a tinge of sadness. All of those years she missed with her son. She didn’t get to see him grow up or learn what he had become. She wants to know how he’s been, but she isn’t sure where to begin. She reaches up and places a hand on his cheek. He is so much taller than her and towers over her. “It’s been a long time, my son.”
Arthur feels tears well in his eyes, but they don’t go beyond that. It is almost as though he is unable to cry. “I missed you, Mama.”
“I missed you too…”
“I lived a bad life, Mama. I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head regretfully. “No, I’m sorry. I'm sorry that I left you too soon. I wasn’t there to protect you from your father. I know he was hard on you.”
Arthur knows she’s putting it delicately, but she doesn’t know who he needed protection from after his father died. He wants to tell her now, but it can wait. They have plenty of time. So he decides to just say, “It’s more than that, Mama.”
But she has a reply. “Which is why you shouldn’t blame yourself. You’re here now, and that matters more to me.”
“Yeah, Hosea was just telling me.”
After a moment, Beatrice holds out her hand. “Come with me, my son.”
He hesitates, but takes her hand. Leading him gently, they walk through the fields of grass. As they add distance between themselves and the crowd, the scenery changes. What was once an open valley is now hills and mountains in the distance. Something about it begins to look familiar to him. As though it is a place he had been before.
Reaching the top of a small hill, Beatrice looks down into the valley below and smiles. Arthur follows her line of view and instantly feels himself frozen in disbelief.
A small boy, around four years old, is playing with a dark-coated Chesapeake Bay Retriever. The boy’s laughter carries throughout the land and echoes into the wonderful day-lit, starry sky.
He’d recognize the two anywhere: it is Issac and Copper.
He doesn’t have to wait long before the boy looks off in their direction. Their eyes meet and the boy recognizes his father. “Daddy!”
Arthur smiles. It isn’t forced or made to hide the pain and ache that he once felt. He really feels it this time. “Issac!”
Beatrice lets her son go and he runs down the hill to meet his son. Isaac goes to meet him, with Cooper happily running at his heels.
As soon as the boy is within arms reach, Arthur slides to his knees to hold him in his arms.
“My little bear, my son…” Arthur utters, as he can hardly speak.
Issac nuzzles into his father’s arm, relieved to feel the safety and warmth that he always craved. The last time he saw his father was nearly a year ago, in his mind, and even if he felt the weight of years that passed, his desire would be just the same.
“Papa bear!” the boy cries.
“Lemme look at you…!” Arthur holds Issac in front of him. The same. He looks the same as though nothing has changed. He doesn’t show signs of death, no bullets to mar his skin.
Issac turns his head and looks up to the side of Arthur. The boy’s eyes soften and he smiles. “Hi, Mommy.”
His eyes start at the skirt then follow all the way up. When their eyes meet he wants to question whether or not this is all real, but he knows it to be true.
It’s her. It’s Eliza. Her chestnut hair gleams from the light all around them. She may as well be the sun. An angel.
He rises to his feet but doesn’t move towards her. Isaac shifts back and forth between them, eager to see what will happen.
Her brown eyes bring him back. Back to that day he found the two crosses.
He walks to her. He touches her soft hair, then her shoulders, then her face. She holds his hands there for a moment as though she cannot believe it either.
A tear threatens to fall from his scarless face and she reaches to wipe it away. “No tears, Arthur.”
His hands remain on her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. The softness and warmth of her skin only validate the reality that he is here. Right now. With her. “I…I missed you so much.”
She now knows it has been a while. “I know, but it’s over now.”
He can’t help himself. After years of holding back, he longs to do what he should have done years ago. He kisses her.
As though creating a mutual understanding, Eliza responds in kind, pressing her lips deeper into his. She wraps her arms around his neck and he brings her up into his arms and lets the passion run its course.
After a moment, they break away. Arthur returns his woman to her feet and he feels a tug on his pant leg. They both look down. Isaac looks back up at them, extending his arms upward.
Arthur feels a swell of joy overcome him. He picks up his son and tosses him into the air. Isaac giggles with delight, holding out his arms. If Arthur throws him any higher, he could very well fly. Eliza, keeping one hand on Arthur, smiles gently. She had hoped that this day would come. Now Arthur is home and he is here to stay. No longer will he leave and no longer will she ever worry if he will ever return. Here, they are truly free to be together, and death can no longer separate them.
Arthur sets Isaac back down. Copper rushes to the boy and licks his face.
Arthur puts his arm around Eliza. With a gentle nod, she gestures over to a single house a few yards away. It looks almost like the home he had left behind many years ago. Only, it glistens. It were as though it were made of the purest gold.
Isaac takes his father’s hand. “Look it, Daddy!” he sighs.
Arthur can only look at her. She is more beautiful than anything he could ever lay his eyes on. “Eliza?”
She looks up at him. “Yes, my love?”
He loves to hear her say that. He takes in a deep breath as though he could inhale every lovely word she speaks. “Let’s go home.”
He feels her arm wrap around him. “Sounds wonderful to me.”
And as the sun and moon glide over the sky in their own paces, and the colors and stars of the galaxies dance, the wayfaring stranger walks through the fields with his loved ones. He was going over home.