With a grunt, Karl's gather fell into the mud.

Strands of thick blood mixed with rainwater and dirt.

His eyes snapped back but he didn't waste a second and got back on his feet.

Arthur joined your side.

His body was slight tilted into your direction. If it would turn out necessary, he was able to jump in front of you and shield off a bullet.

His fingers twitched. But he refused to touch his own revolver.

It would be the last way out.

But Karl's father didn't seem to have any kind of interest in a gunfight.

With his teeth bared, which were covered in red and mud, he reached out for a punch.

Arthur tore his arms into the air and blocked the attack.
You jumped back, out of range.

"Arthur, he's drunk!", you called out. "He just needs some timeout."

Arthur laughed.

"Timeout?", he asked with his eyes fixed onto the man. "He needs a good beatin' that's all."

The attacker growled.

"You dirty outlaw!", he hissed and made another attempt to place a hit into Arthur's guts. "Where did you take that son of a bitch?!"

Arthur slid to the side, raised a fist and managed to place a hard hit to the side of his head.

Grubbing, he stumbled back but remained standing.

The way his gaze changed gave away that he was already fighting with the alcohol. He was willing to have this fight, but he wasn't entirely master of his senses anymore.

"Listen, sir, I dunno who you are and don't wanna know.", Arthur caught a punch mid air and retuned the favour with a head bump. "Y'all ain't none of my business and I want to keep it that way."

Karls father fell back into the mud.

His breath was heavy. Blood poured out of his mouth and nose.

But he didn't want to give up. That would have been too easy.

"Ya son of a whore!", he yelled and fished a stone out of the mud to throw it at the man who was towering in front of him.

The stone, and all the mud that was stuck to it, hit the blue striped shirt of Arthur.

He didn't flinch.

He didn't even make a move to wipe away the dirt.

All he did was move his fingers one by one, bent down and grabbed the bleeding man by the collar.

Something dark was burning inside his eyes.

Something scary.

You rushed forward to place a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"It's enough.", you said as your eyes fell onto the shivering man, a poor excuse of a human. "He's done for. Don't make yourself worse of a monster than you are."

For a moment, Arthur stared at him.

The heavy rain had washed most of the mud off already.

All that was left was a pale man with the signs of a drunk. Reddened eyes, a puffed nose and dry, cracked lips.

His teeth were dirty, you noticed. So different and more nasty in comparison to Arthur's pearly white.

All at once, he let go of him.

With a gasp, Karl's father fell into the mud.

It was unclear what it was, maybe he was too weak or so drunk that his legs didn't work properly anymore, but he lowered his head and remained laying in the dirt.

"We should get in.", you said and wiped the dirt off Arthur's face. "It's cold."

His bright blue danced over your face.

He didn't smile nor did his face move in any other kind of way.

He just stared and took in all the details, all the emotions, that you were showing on your face in that moment.

"C'mon...", you tugged at the black scarf that he had loosely tied around his neck to cover most part of his open shirt.

He didn't move.

Confused, you looked up at him.

Concern was written all over your face.

Without thinking, you reached out and stroked a splatter of blood from his cheek.

He caught your hand, his fingers wrapped around your wrist and gently forced you to lower it.

Your lips twitched in a silent question.

His gaze moved to the entrance of the saloon.

You turned your head to look as well.

Eyes were watching.

Dozens of pairs of eyes were glued to the two of you, soaked by the rain, caked in mud and blood of a man that they called one of them.

The hate was visible on their faces.

The disgust was so obvious, it felt like you could have reached out and cut it with a knife.

A cold shiver crawled down your spine.

This was exactly what had not been supposed to happen.
You wanted to lay low.

You wanted them to believe that you had nothing to do with anything they disapproved.

But you did.

Arthur, standing next to you, one of his hands wrapped around your wirst in a gentle and trusting manner, was loving proof.

Maybe you weren't one of the outlaws.

But now you knew that one of the outlaws was one of yours.

Taking a deep breath in, you closed your eyes and listened to the rain for a moment.

It felt like the entirety of the ocean was raining down on you.

It wasn't salty.

But it burned as it touched the open wounds and thin skin of yours.

As you opened your eyes again, they were harder than before.

With determination, you turned to walk up to the people.

But Arthur grabbed you by the shoulder to keep you at a distance.

"Do it from here.", he said into your ear, eyes wandering over all these people. "It will do you less harm."

Your shoulders stiffened.

"What if they point guns at us?", you asked, face grim.

Arthur huffed.

"If just every second of them had a gun pointed at us, it's over anyways."

A deep sigh made your freezing chest tremble.

"Everyone!", you called out to the masses. "Go home. Business is closed."