Arthur let out a sigh of relief as the sound of gunfire faded into the distance. The rush of adrenaline leaving his body as he began to slump along his horse's mane. It felt soft and warm against his shivering skin. The wind gentling blowing it along his face. The world fading in and out around him, a fire burning in his shoulder. I have to warn Dutch…I…I have to…He weakly kicked at his horse. A flash of pain radiating through him, the force of the trot jostling his broken ribs.

The world continued to fade in and out around him as the heat and pain faded into numbness. He didn't know how long he had been travelling, or if he was even headed in the right direction. But as Dutch loved to remind him, he had to have faith and he had faith his trusty steed would see him home safely.

He didn't notice the world fading to black until the sound of pounding hooves echoed in his ears, vibrating through his body. He forced his weak, sticky eyes to open to see a group of riders heading towards him. The distant sounds of "ARTHUR!" reaching his ears.

A cough tore through his broken body as he felt himself slump forward. Suddenly, he felt a brief rush of air and the sight of a blurry ground rushing up to meet him. Pain radiating through his body as the hard ground broke his fall. The side of his face pressed into the dirt as he struggled to gasp for breath.

"SON! ARTHUR!"

The concerned voice sounded louder as the pounding of the hooves stopped. Burning pain spread through his shoulder as he felt a rough but hesitant hand grasp his injured shoulder. Gently maneuvering him onto his back. He let out a gasp, as he struggled to blink the world into focus. Blackness still hovering at the corner of his vision.

"Arthur! Speak to me son!"

The silhouette of a person hovered above him from the light of the sunrise and Arthur felt the urge to reach out and touch it. He felt something grab hold of the hand that barely made it above his chest and gently set it back down. Through the pain and confusion he could hear a wheezing sound filling his ears as he continued to blink blearily at the world around him. I have to…have to warn them…

"Warn us about what son?"

Had he said that out loud? He flinched as he felt something cool rest on his forehead.

"Dutch…he's burning up. We need to get him back to camp."

Dutch? Wha…He's here? Where..I...He's in danger…

"I know Hosea…I know…" The man let out a weary sigh before his loud voice filled Arthur's ears again. "BILL! Head back to camp, tell Mrs. Grimshaw and the Reverend to be ready. Lenny, head into town. Try and find some medicine. Hurry, we need to move!"

Arthur felt lost as the world shifted around him. He groaned is displeasure as the blissfully cool hand left his forehead and he felt himself being lifted up into a sitting position. He let out a pain filled moan as hands moved his chest over a hard, bony object and he felt himself being lifted.

"I know son. Just hang in there…hang in there…"

Hang…hang where? I don't want to hang…

He let out a gasp of pain as the world began to shift and jump. His body bouncing on a hard surface, jostling his broken ribs.

"Don't worry Arthur. You'll be ok. We'll make Colm pay."

Pay? COLM! DUTCH! THE CAMP! THE TRAP!

"H…ha..ve…wa..r…tr..a.p…Du..t…ch"

Pain flared again as he felt himself move from one hard surface to another, his body hanging over something. He blinked at the blurry ground, trying to make the world come into focus. He barely registered the face of a white haired man crouching in front of him. Peering at him in concern.

"What was that Arthur?"

"War…nnn…Dutch…"

"Warn me what?"

The sound of a loud commanding voice sounded from somewhere above him. Confused, Arthur moved to turn to look up at him but was stopped by the feeling of hands gently grabbing his face and guiding it back down.

"Don't worry right now Arthur. You're ok. We'll get you back to camp and you can tell us when you're better."

The man in front of him seemed kind and caring. His blue eyes, so familiar, so much emotion portrayed in them. But his name seemed to escape him.

"Do…do I know you?…" His raspy voice croaked out painfully as he struggled to breathe in the awkward position he was in. But it must have been the wrong thing to say as the man frowned, pressing a blissfully cool hand to his forehead. He couldn't help but lean into the touch.

"Hosea, we don't have time! We need to go! He ya!"

The coolness was quickly yanked from him as the world blurred by. Dizzyingly so. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he struggled to swallow the pain from every jostle.

"Don't you worry son. You'll be fine…just have faith...have faith"

The words were quiet and he couldn't tell if they were meant for him or not. But they still reached his ears. They were calming and familiar and in that moment he knew who he was with. He knew he was safe.

"Dut…ch…" He weakly rasped out before the darkness consumed him and he let himself fall into the pain free realm of oblivion.

"…Put him here…"

"…Is he?…"

"…I'm so sorry Arthur…"

"…Hang in there…"

"…You'll be okay son…"

The voices of his friends and family floated around his empty mind. Fading in and out. A fire burning through him then an icy numbness chasing it away. He couldn't focus. The voices speaking to him through the darkness. Light touches prickly at his skin.

"You have to come back Arthur. You're stronger than this. Don't let Colm beat you."

Colm…Colm… The name haunted him. Following him in the darkness. A face of a dirty, greasy, slimy man with grey hair and a crooked smile coming to him. Fear and rage burning hotter than the fire coursing through him consumed him. He's gonna trick Dutch…I have to warn them…

Arthur forced himself up from the comforting darkness. Pain returning as awareness slowly came back to him. He struggled to open crusted eyes as he took in a deep, pain filled breath of air. He paused as he realized he was lying down, not strung up and the smell of the lake filled his nose. The surface he was lying on soft and comfortable. What the hell… Arthur forced his eyes open the rest of the way, confused to find himself staring at a cloth ceiling instead of a wood wall. What is Colm playing at?

Not wanting to wait and find out, Arthur forced himself to sit up. The burning pain of moving shooting through his body as he let out a raspy gasp. The world tilting as he swayed where he sat. He took a moment to look at his surroundings, and was surprised to find himself outside. Surrounded by multiple tents. Maybe he's moving the ambush site…I have to leave…I have to hurry…

As quietly as he could, Arthur moved to stand. Tightly grasping the wood wagon to keep himself up right. Once the world stopped swaying he made to move. He could faintly see horses in the distance, at the other side of the camp. You got this old boy…come on…

Slowly he crossed the distance of the camp. Pausing every so often to take a breather. Eventually he finally made it to a horse and not stopping to see if anyone saw him, he painfully tried to push himself up. His ribs protested at the movement as he let out a cry of pain and crumpled to the ground in a heap, gasping for breath. He was so focused on breathing he didn't hear the footsteps, nor feel the hand that gently held his shoulder as he struggled to breath.

Through the fog of pain Arthur heard a voice calling out to him.

"What are you doing out of bed?! Breathe son. Breathe. Take it slow. That's it. Just take it slow."

The voice was so calm. So caring. It called him son. What O'Driscoll calls him son? No! It's a trick!

"GET AWAY FROM ME O'DRISCOLL BASTARD!" Arthur rasped as he struggled to twist out of the grip.

"O'Driscoll? What are you…No Arthur you're safe! It's me!

"NO! YOU WANT ME TO TELL YOU WHAT I KNOW! I WO…" A painful cough ripped through his body, jostling his ribs and stealing his breath away. The cough kept coming. Panic coursed through him as he struggled in vain to get air into his lungs. Through the haze of pain and misery he felt hands lift him up, something hard smacking his back as something else held him up by his chest. Then the hands shifted and he felt himself leaning back against something, the object on his chest never leaving.

"Breathe son…copy me…" The voice whispered in his ear and Arthur could feel the slow rise and fall of a chest behind him. Slowly he felt his body match the pace and the cough dissipated into painful wheezes.

"IS EVERYTHING OKAY?!" A new voice shouted from behind him and Arthur began to tense.

Almost as if the man behind him sensed it he shouted, "Yes, everything is fine, I got him. Everyone go back to bed. That's an order!"

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief at knowing know one else was coming near and all the energy he had to get himself to the horses was now starting to fade. His eyes started to droop as his breathing slowed. "why…why are you helping me?" He managed to ask with his last strand of consciousness.

"Because we're family son…" The voice whispered in his ear as he slumped further onto the man behind him. "You'll be alright Arthur. Just trust me."

Trust him… And for some strange reason, Arthur did. He let himself relax as the cold embrace of darkness swallowed him whole.

When Arthur woke next, found himself in a soft bed. A cool towel resting on his forehead. The soft glow of a sunrise shining in his eyes. I'm home? Arthur blinked in confusion as he slowly looked around the camp, until he found a man sitting in a chair beside him. Reading a book in his hands. Arthur would recognize him anywhere and he felt pure relief and confusion knowing he was safe.

"Are you back with us this time?" Dutch spoke calmly as he slowly closed his book and set it on the table next to Arthur's bed.

"uhh…ya…I think…" Arthur began as he smacked his dry lips. "Wha…how did I get back here…"

"What do you remember?" Dutch asked as he passed him a cup of cool lake water as Arthur grabbed it with shaky hands, trying to weakly sit up on his cot on one elbow as the cloth fell from his forehead.

"I…" Arthur shut his eyes in concentration. "I…remember…being in their camp…they wanted me to lure you there…but…I…got out? Stole a horse…I…I blacked out…and…you found me?"

"We did…and just in time." Dutch murmured as he looked away, off into the distance. "We thought you weren't going to make it for a bit. You were in a bad way Arthur."

Arthur could only stare as he took it all in. Dutch looked tired, bags under his eyes, like he had sat by him for days but his beard was still finely trimmed, so at least he looked after himself. But was that how long it had been? Days? And he still felt weak, and sweaty. He hoped he wouldn't be bed ridden for much longer.

"You've been back for 2 weeks…two weeks of a fever that only broke last night. The Reverend's prayers must have been heard. We…"

Dutch's voice became distant as the words penetrated Arthur's mind. Two weeks? Weeks? The world seemed to slow as the words floated around his mind.

"Arthur? You ok son?"

A hand came to rest on his forehead, bringing Arthur out of his thoughts. Dutch must have really been worried if he's showing his mothering side…

"Ya…Dutch…I…I was just taking it all in."

As quickly as the hand came, it left. Quickly moving to fiddle with his pocket watch. "Ah well, I suppose you have been through a lot. I'll let you rest some more. I hope to see you back on your feet soon son."

And just like that, Dutch was gone. Picking up his book and making his way to his tent next door as the others in the camp began to wake. Arthur couldn't help but smile. Dutch may be a lot of things but he cared for his family, and although he may not have been aware of everything Dutch did for him while he was out, he knows he was well cared for. Content, Arthur let his eyes fall shut as he let the sounds of the camps and the ripples of the lake lull him back to a peaceful sleep.