The air inside the tent carried the gentle coolness of a beautiful summer evening, the inside illuminated by a lantern sitting off to the side. Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide, spread out in a relaxed, dominant manner, his attention fully occupied with the rhythmic cleaning of his revolver. You sat on the floor between his knees, your knees drawn up and your arms wrapped around your legs, quietly studying his concentrated expression.

For the past hour, you had been wrestling with a single request. You wanted nothing more than a few hours of freedom to go into town for a drink with the girls, but you knew how he was, so you were calculating in your head how to ask. Finally, you swallowed hard, moved closer, and settled yourself right between his thighs, looking up at him with a soft, hopeful expression. "Arthur?" you called softly. "The girls and I... we were thinking about heading into Valentine for a few drinks. Just to have a little fun. Would you let me go?"

He didn't even look up from his work, his jaw tightening as he gave a curt, distracted shake of his head. "There would be a lot of noise, a lot of eyes. Stay here."

The rejection hurt, a familiar disappointment rising in her chest. If he wanted to be someone who spoke little and was less compromising, you would find another way for him to listen. Slowly, deliberately, you lifted one leg, sliding your bare foot toward his inner thigh. You began to slowly rub the sole of your foot back and forth over his inner thigh through his pants.

"Do you like that, Arthur?" you whispered. Your voice had lowered an octave; You locked your eyes on hers, trying to catch even the slightest change in expression. When Arthur remained stubbornly focused on his gun, his jaw tightly tensed, you pressed his foot a little more; the friction that his skin created against his skin was like a silent and fervent plea. "Are you listenin' to me, darlin'?" you asked softly. "Can we go into town?"

Finally, his eyes lifted to you for a brief second. He looked at you, silent and unreadable, before letting out a quiet sigh and returning his attention to the revolver.

"I said no, didn't I?" he replied in his rough, low drawl. "Then no means no."