He slowly let go of Buell's mane. One deeper breath after another. There was a cure. He wouldn't die. That was a little much to take in, especially after he'd all but settled his affairs. He knew John or Charles would have come for him after. After it was all over. Buried him where they had talked about, all those months ago. The realization that he could live... it sapped his energy and he slid down the horse's leg.
Arthur looked up at John. A slight apologetic shrug. "Uh. I want to say around Virginia? That's were we were last." But there was no we anymore. They were scattered to the winds. "Though, I'm hoping me and Marston gave them enough of a distraction to get away from Dutch and Micah. And the Pinkertons."