Arthur thought he had left the matter of his age behind him a long time ago. At least, you had made him believe that he had. When the fact that he was older than you had started weighing on his mind when you first met, you had told him countless times that he was the only one making it into a problem. Thinking he would eventually make you change your mind, he had tried to put distance between the two of you, but every time, you had only taken another step closer. In time, he had learned to believe it. When he was with you, he forgot his age. You made him forget.

But some people had a way of bringing back the fears a person thought they had buried the deepest with a single sentence. That day was no different.

On the way back from a job with a few members of the gang, Arthur rode a little behind the others, quietly guiding his horse forward. Micah pulled his reins and moved up beside him. He rode alongside him for a while without saying anything. Then, as if the thought had just crossed his mind, he spoke in a mocking tone. "Ever think about it, Morgan?"

Arthur didn't even turn his head. "About what?"

Micah smirked. "Your wife. I gotta say..." he continued. "When I first saw her, I didn't think she was Morgan's wife. Standing next to you, you look more like... an old man takin' his daughter somewhere."

The words hung in the air. Micah took advantage of the silence and continued. "You're a lucky man, Morgan. A fella your age finding himself a young woman like that ain't exactly common. But I gotta wonder..." He looked Arthur up and down. "When's that girl gonna realize there are men out there closer to her own age?"

This time, Arthur turned his head and looked at him. Then, without saying a single word, he dug his heels into his horse and rode ahead. Micah's low laughter followed behind him. Arthur could have silenced that laugh. What hurt him wasn't that snake. It was the fact that a thought you had worked so hard to quiet years ago had started whispering again.

Micah's words never left Arthur's mind. Over the next few days, even though he tried not to let it show, his eyes found you more often than he realized. He watched the genuine smile on your face when you played with Jack, the joy in your expression while helping around camp, the youthful energy you carried as you moved from one task to another. Then, without meaning to, he looked back at himself. At the way his body took a little longer to rise in the mornings, at the shoulder that ached before the rain came, at the growing number of silver strands he noticed in the mirror... None of those things had ever bothered him before. Now they did.

You, however, knew your husband better than anyone. He had been quieter these past few days. His smiles didn't last as long, and his moments lost in thought stretched further than usual. Whenever your eyes met, he looked away as though he was trying to hide something that had been weighing on him. You had known him long enough to understand it wasn't just the exhaustion of a job.

One night, after the camp had fallen quiet, you entered your shared tent and found Arthur lying on the bed, absentmindedly writing something in his journal. Without saying a word, you sat beside him and gently settled yourself onto his lap. Arthur instinctively placed one hand around your waist while leaving the other resting on the journal. For a moment, he looked at your face; he looked tired, but what worried you most was that familiar sadness in his eyes. You lifted your hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing gently along his beard.

"What is it, Arthur?" you whispered. "You been somewhere else these past few days."

Arthur shook his head. "Ain't nothin'."