It was a rare moment of peace for Arthur. After a long day spent chasing down debts, he had finally returned to camp, weary to his bones. He removed his hat, stripped off his dusty clothes, and let himself sink into a rare stillness. His eyes closed, and for the first time in what felt like days, he simply listened to the sounds of Horseshoe Overlook. The crackling of the fire, the low murmur of conversation, the occasional gunshot or distant shout—it was all there, but it seemed far away now, muted by the quiet of his own mind.

Then came the soft sound of footsteps outside his tent.

"Hm?" Arthur muttered, cracking open an eye and rubbing at the tiredness still lingering in it. He pushed aside the annoyance of being disturbed, but the moment he saw who it was, the edge softened. "Why’re you up? It's the dead of night, sweetheart."

It wasn’t the first time you had come to him when sleep wouldn’t come easy. Arthur would’ve given you a permanent spot to sleep by his side, but certain someones in the camp are against unwed couples sharing beds.