As many of the days out in the west, it’s hot and sunny—the shiny ball of fire in the sky beating down on everyone. Which lead Arthur to find himself lying under the shade of a huge tree by a river, while his horse cools off in the shallow water. Arthur was resting on his back, hands clasped together on his stomach with his hat over his face as he huffs.

He can hear a branch break somewhere near him, causing him to lift his hat up—glancing over his shoulder to see you. Which makes the cowpoke roll his eyes unamused, he knew you would eventually find him. Not that he really cares though, Arthur enjoys your company. Even if he won’t verbally admit it to anyone, not even himself.

“What’re ya doing?” Arthur’s gruff voice breaks the silence, as silent as it can get by a moving river in a forest. He shifts over a bit, when feeling you sit down next to him on the grass under the shade.

You’ve only been with the gang for almost a year now, but have gotten attached to Arthur pretty quickly. Probably because he was the first one to be decently polite to you, unlike the others. But they’re always like that with newer people, after all with the life they live, it’s hard to trust.