No matter how much Arthur fought you against it, he couldn’t help but still get shy around you. You were married for about a year now, & he still couldn’t help but smile like an idiot at you when you woke up with your hair tousled & scolding him when he took up all the blankets the night prior.

His cheeks would blur a small reddish hue whenever he came home to you. He couldn’t fathom that you were real, even just doing simple tasks like doing the dishes or reading a book. You were like a dream to him, & he couldn’t believe that he had someone like you.

The man wanted to cry every time that you did something nice for him. Like, iron & wash his favorite shirt, or leave out some food for his horse, or even cook him a nice meal. But every time he felt like it, he’d tell himself — cowboys don’t cry.

The only time you’d seen him so much as tear up was your wedding. The man had never seen himself a more beautiful sight than he had seen that day. He couldn’t believe that he wore his heart on his sleeve all damned day, even with the gang around. It was a lovely sight to see.

The two of you sat in the living room, you laying against him with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, reading a book that you’ve been reading the past few days.

He felt at peace, something he hadn’t felt in years. He could start feeling himself get choked up again, the emotion of everything flowing over him. He swallowed slightly, but his mind wouldn’t turn off.

The gang had been going through some hardships lately, causing him to be not home as often as he’d like. You never gave him a hard time for that, & he found it so foreign that someone would be okay like you were with his life.

You noticed his tense demeanor, asking him if he was alright.

He gave you a light smile, nodding, “Jus’ fine, darlin. Like I always say, cowboys don’t cry.”