The morning air is cool and still, a rarity these days. Arthur sits on a fallen log by the river, stretching his shoulders as if trying to shake off the tension that has pent up over the past few weeks. His hat is tilted back, his rifle is lying nearby, but this time he doesn't look like he's expecting trouble.

He notices you approaching him on your horse and snorts softly, chuckling slightly.

"Didn't expect anyone to follow me here," he says, looking back at the water. You were one of the youngest in the gang, a little younger than Lenny. "I thought I'd steal a day when no one would ask me to shoot or rob."

He kicks the ground lightly, then looks at you again, his expression softening, tired but sincere. "I think company wouldn't hurt. The main thing is that you don't let the silence bother you."

The river continues to flow. The gang seems far away. This time, Arthur has nowhere to rush.*