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John Marston was pacing a hole into the ground. Abigail had gone into labor hours ago and yet, the kid hadn’t come. He wasn’t worried about the damn child that was causing the love of his life to scream like a banshee in his tent. He was worried for her.
“Son, if you pace any more, I am going to throw up,” Hosea remarked. John glanced at him. He was sitting close, slightly tired but calm. At least one of them was calm.
“What the hell you want me to do? Go in there and help?” John snapped. Hosea rolled his eyes. John continued his short path across his tent. Abigail let out another scream, causing John to flinch. He felt hands on his shoulders and Hosea turned him around.
“Calm down. She’s got Susan, Strauss, and Mary-Beth in there. You need to take a breath,” Hosea said. John pushed him off. He wasn’t only worried for her. He was young. How the hell was he supposed to take care of a child? A helpless newborn? He felt like a child himself.
John heard Hosea talk to someone, and the next second, Dutch grabbed his arm. He tried to pull away from him, but Dutch was stronger than him.
“John,” he said. John shook his head and tried to continue pacing. “ John,” Dutch said, forcing him to stop. John looked at him. “It’ll be okay,” Dutch said gently. John sighed. The man always had a soft spot for him. That’s probably why he celebrated instead of scolding like he did with Arthur. Of course, Arthur’s girl didn’t stay. And now…
John shook his head from the thoughts. Abigail stayed. Dutch was emanating calmness, his eyes gentle and relaxed. Dutch rubbed his arms, trying to calm him like he did when he was a child.
“What… What if it ain’t?” John asked anxiously.
“Son… No one is prepared for this. But you will be great. You have all of us. That child will grow up to be strong and funny and interesting. Just like you. Okay?” Dutch said gently. John sighed.
“I don’t even know how to hold a baby,” John said desperately. Dutch chuckled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“Neither do I. We’ll figure it out together,” Dutch whispered. John let a nervous laugh bubble from his chest. Dutch sat him on a chair outside and stayed next to him.
Over the next couple of hours, the gang stopped by and offered encouraging words. John heard Abigail scream, cry, curse, all of it. Yet, she never asked for him. That was okay. He didn’t know what to do. And he doubted he would be helpful. He listened to Susan and Mary-Beth encourage her and Strauss interject occasionally. Just as the sun hit the highest part of the sky, a piercing cry ripped through the camp.
Everyone stopped. John, Dutch, and Hosea all sat up from their spots at the front of the tent and turned. Tilly and Karen looked up from their laundry. Arthur, Javier, Uncle, and Sean stopped their game of poker. Trelawny looked up from his book and Swanson sat up from his spot on the ground. Pearson paused his cooking. Mac and Davey stopped fighting. John even heard Bill stop his patrol around the camp.
The newest Van Der Linde gang member took a deep breath and let out another cry. A few moments later, Susan came from the tent. She had a wide smile on her face, even though she looked exhausted and had fingernail marks on her arms and hands.
“It’s a boy!” she announced. The camp erupted into cheers. John braced as almost everyone came over and clapped him on the back. A few congratulations floated into John’s head. But he nearly felt like fainting.
After the cheers and congratulations calmed, Susan gently put her hand on John’s shoulder. John turned toward her.
“She needs a bit of a break. Some time alone with the boy. Strauss wants to make sure everything was okay. I’ll come to get you when she’s ready. Is that alright?” she asked. John nodded numbly, barely registering her words. Susan leaned down and kissed his cheek. She went back into the tent.
A few more people came over to congratulate him, including Arthur. He lingered while everyone else left.
“So… You’re a dad now,” Arthur said. John rolled his eyes. “Hey, it’s an important job! I know you ain’t remember much from when you first joined, but you were near feral. If your kid’s like that, I ain’t dealing with him,” Arthur joked.
“Just for that, I’m letting him bite you,” John shot back. Arthur laughed and put his hand on John’s shoulder. His eyes were bright but serious.
“It’s a rough job, Marston. One I failed at. Are you ready?” Arthur asked softly. John sighed a little.
“I think so,” he said. Arthur smiled a little and squeezed his shoulder.
“Good. You ain’t alone, little Johnny. You got all of us,” he said. John inadvertently rolled his eyes at the nickname but he felt his heart swell.
“Thanks, Arthur. I think,” he said. Arthur chuckled and left him alone. John went quiet, now just wanting to see Abigail. He loved her… oh, he loved her. He only knew her for about a year, but she was the most enchanting woman John had ever laid his eyes on.
She was feisty and cunning. She could steal the shine off a diamond with pure charm. And her beauty… well… John hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she came into camp. He was just damn lucky she took a liking to him.
He was an asshole to her when she first told him. He couldn’t believe that it was his child. Yet… the timeline fit. They were together quite a few times about nine months ago. Had she been with the other men in camp? A few times. But, with a little math, there was no way that kid was anyone else’s but his.
A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. Susan was standing over him, a smile on her usually harsh face. She nodded at him and flicked her head toward the tent. Anxiety suddenly rose in his stomach and he wondered if he would vomit.
Yet, he forced himself up and, with feet full of lead, walked over to the tent. He opened the flap, after shooting Dutch a panicked look, and walked in.
Inside, he was confronted with an incredible sight. Abigail was laying on his cot, the child curled on her chest. She was practically glowing. John Marston never, and would never, see a woman as beautiful as her at that moment. She gave him a small smile. He bumbled closer and knelt next to the cot.
The boy was fast asleep, his hands splayed out to the side. His small body was taking in breaths and his mouth was open. He was the most perfect thing John ever saw. He felt his body soften.
“Oh… Oh… wow,” he whispered. He knew it was stupid, but what else was a man supposed to say? Abigail laughed softly and she reached out. She placed her hand in John’s hair and stroked it.
“Our son, John. Our boy,” she whispered. John laughed and looked up at her. Abigail’s eyes were gentle and warm. There was nothing but love in them. John inched forward and kissed her.
“You okay?” he asked when he pulled back.
“Sore. Sore as hell. And tired. But alive. I didn’t think I’d make it but… God… look at him. Made it all worth it,” Abigail said. John smiled and kissed her forehead. He looked back down at his child.
The boy’s eyes were closed and he looked peaceful. John cautiously reached out and touched the boy’s tiny hand. The hand reflexively closed and opened, wrapping around John’s finger. The small fingers were barely able to wrap around John’s index finger.
“I think he looks like you,” Abigail said. John chuckled, using his thumb to gently stroke the boy’s fingers.
“No,” John whispered. Abigail looked at him. “He looks like Hosea,” John said. Abigail laughed, startling the boy awake.
“Oh… oh, honey, sorry,” she whispered, her hand going to the boy’s back and rubbing. John chuckled. “Yeah, he does. I think all babies look like old men,” she joked.
“Probably,” John said. Abigail inched over and let John crawl into the cot with her. He wrapped his arm around Abigail and kissed her forehead again. “I know I don’t say it. But I love you, Abigail Roberts. You are the best woman I know,” he whispered.
“Don’t let Susan hear that,” Abigail said. John smiled. “I love you too, John Marston. You idiot,” she said affectionately.
The new family just enjoyed their time as the boy slept. They talked occasionally but mainly enjoyed the quiet. They were joking when the boy woke up. He let out a whine and squirmed. Abigail sat up and held the boy, shushing him. John was amazed at how naturally it came. Abigail was watching him.
“Wanna hold him?” she asked once the boy was calm.
“I… I don’t know how,” John stuttered dumbly. Abigail giggled.
“Hold your hands out. No. Like mine. Yeah. Okay… Support his head. He ain’t got muscles in his neck. There you go. Like that,” Abigail instructed. John was holding the boy like he had a stick of dynamite in his hands, cautious and anxious. “Relax, John,” Abigail said.
John adjusted so the boy’s head was cradled in his elbow. The boy squirmed and cried for a moment but settled. John watched the boy blink, confused at the new world in front of him. John couldn’t help but smile.
“See? You’re a natural,” Abigail praised. John chuckled. She leaned back into the cot. “Would you mind holding him for a bit? I need a break. Maybe show those old men. I’m sure they’re dying to see their grandson,” she said.
“Oh, don’t call them granddads. They’ll kill me,” John said. Abigail laughed.
“Whatever. Go show them. Don’t take him far, though,” she said. John nodded. He stood up slowly, making sure his son’s head was supported. He was almost at the front when he stopped.
“What’s his name?” he asked. Abigail sighed for a moment.
“Yours. I ain’t got the energy to make one up. He’s John Marston Jr,” she mumbled.
“Oh, no I ain’t—” he started. He turned but Abigail was fast asleep. John sighed. Well, fine. He can be junior. But he ain’t having the same name.
John slowly walked outside. He didn’t realize how late it was. The sun was almost behind the horizon. Dutch and Hosea looked up as he exited. They stood up and walked over, excited. John smiled a little at them.
“Meet Jack Marston,” John said. The men John thought of as fathers exchanged a glance and smiled widely. Hosea approached first, looking closely at the boy.
“He looks like you. Oh… Dutch… look at his little nose. And his fingers. He’s so tiny,” Hosea cooed. Dutch nudged him out of the way and looked down.
“Oh, old girl, he’s so cute,” Dutch whispered. John snickered. He never saw them like this. “Shut up, John. He’s cuter than you ever were,” Dutch said sweetly. John tried not to laugh again.
“Can I hold him?” Hosea asked. John gently handed the boy off, grateful for the break. The kid wasn’t more than six pounds, but it was hard to hold a baby. Hosea smiled widely and held the boy close. “Bessie would’ve loved him,” he whispered. John felt a pang in his chest. Bessie had passed about six months ago. And she would’ve loved this little creature. Dutch put his hand on Hosea’s shoulder.
“Yeah. She would’ve,” Dutch murmured. Hosea smiled sadly. “Okay. Let me hold him,” Dutch said.
“I barely started holding him,” Hosea said.
“Yeah, well I want to,” Dutch argued.
“Okay, enough arguing about my son. Hosea gets to hold him for a bit,” John interrupted.
“Oh, I am hurt,” Dutch said dramatically. John rolled his eyes. Hosea started swaying, comforting the boy. John watched with interest. All he knew of these two men were how brutal and manipulative they could be. Hosea could charm the last dollar out of a poor man. And Dutch had wanted posters up all over the East, ranging from petty theft to murder. And yet, they were fawning over this little kid.
Hosea offered the boy to Dutch and he took him. His eyes lit up and he smiled widely. He had one hand on Jack’s head and the other on his body. Dutch was staring down at him with pure adoration.
“Hi, Jackie boy,” Dutch murmured. Hosea laughed softly. He crossed over and put his hand on John’s shoulder.
“I don’t think you’re gonna get him back, son,” Hosea said. John chuckled. Hosea pulled John close and kissed his head. “He’s perfect, John. Congratulations,” Hosea said. John felt his chest warm.
“Thank you,” he said. The baby started fussing and Dutch cooed at him. “It’s so weird to see him like that,” John whispered. Hosea snickered.
“I know. But he’s always had a sweet side when it came to kids. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have gotten you,” Hosea said. John rolled his eyes.
“John?” Abigail called. John gestured to Dutch, trying to take his son back. Dutch, instead, walked right into the tent. John rolled his eyes. He followed. Dutch was handing the baby off to Abigail. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“He is beautiful, Abigail. Absolutely beautiful,” Dutch whispered. Abigail smiled at him and took the baby back.
“Thank you, Mr. Van Der Linde,” she said.
“That boy’s gonna have a lot of fun with his Uncle Dutch,” Dutch said as he started leaving the tent.
“Maybe wait until he can hold his head up before you take him robbing,” Abigail joked. Dutch laughed and left. John crawled in next to her and kissed her head. “They enjoy their time with the kid?” she asked.
“Yeah. Called him Jack. I ain’t having him have the same name,” John said. Abigail smiled.
“Fine. Fits him better anyway,” Abigail said. She placed the boy on her chest and he sighed a little. She smiled. “He is pretty damn perfect, ain’t he?” she asked. John nodded.
The small family chatted and dozed together. John was startled awake when the boy screamed. Abigail was trying to comfort him from the bed but to no avail.
“Can you take him for a walk? He needs more movement and I can’t get up,” she said. John nodded and took the boy. He walked outside, pulling a blanket from the chest right outside and wrapping it around the boy. The air had a chill to it and he didn’t want the kid to get sick. Abigail would never forgive him for that.
He bounced around, trying to calm the boy. He walked around the camp as Jack calmed. Almost everyone was asleep. The brisk fall air was only tempered by the warmth of the campfires. Arthur was sitting at one of the tables, staring at John and his son. John approached.
“Jack. That’s his name,” John said. Arthur hummed a little as John sat down. He looked at Arthur. His face was full of complicated emotions. John felt a pang of guilt. He knew Arthur must’ve been thinking about Isaac. “Umm… you wanna hold him?” John asked.
Arthur looked at him and smiled. He nodded once. John gently handed his son off to his brother. Arthur’s face lit up and he looked down at the baby in wonder. He looked so natural holding the kid that John saw a flash of a life that Arthur missed out on.
Arthur didn’t talk about Eliza and Isaac often. John knew it hurt him to think about the family he lost. Even with his kid being a few hours old, it would terrify him to lose him. And if he ever lost Abigail… He might go insane if that happened.
“You look like you were made to do that,” John said. Arthur chuckled.
“They’re so weird when they first come out. I remember that Isaac was so wrinkly he looked like a damn raisin. But… they’re so perfect. Those little hands and toes,” Arthur said. He leaned his head down and pressed his nose against the boy’s forehead. “They all smell the same too,” he said softly.
“They smell?” John said flatly. Arthur chuckled. He approached John and held the boy down. John scoffed.
“Just smell him, idiot,” Arthur said. John sniffed the kid.
“They all smell like that?” John asked. Arthur chuckled and nodded. He held the boy close and smiled.
“Don’t you mess this boy up, Marston. He’s damn perfect. Not even Isaac was this cute,” Arthur said. John smiled.
“I think he looks like Hosea. All old,” John said. Arthur laughed.
“Yeah. He does. Do you wanna go lay with Abigail for a bit? I can watch him,” Arthur said.
“You sure?” John asked.
“Sure. I ain’t held a kid in a long time. And you look terrified. No offense,” Arthur said. John chuckled.
“None taken,” John got up and stretched. He turned but paused. He looked back at Arthur. His brother’s face was so gentle and soft, looking at the kid with pure happiness. John smiled. “Hey, Arthur?” John said.
“Yeah?” Arthur asked, looking up.
“Thank you. For everything, my brother,” John said. Arthur smiled at him.
“Whatever you need, Marston, I’ll be there for you. You and Abigail, and this little man. You know that,” Arthur said. John smiled and nodded. He made his way back to the tent. He crawled into the cot with Abigail and wrapped an arm around her. She sighed and cuddled into him.
“Where’s the boy?” she mumbled.
“Arthur has him,” John whispered. Abigail chuckled and turned to him. John rubbed her arm and kissed her head. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too, you idiot,” Abigail said quietly. John smiled. Even though he was absolutely terrified, he had a family now. What more could an outlaw ask for? John woke up when Arthur nudged him. John held his hands out and took the boy.
“He okay?” he mumbled.
“Yeah. I just need to do guard duty. Probably needs to eat,” Arthur said.
“Well, that one ain’t my job. At least, not until we go get some formula,” John said. He nudged Abigail. She groaned but sat up. John handed her the kid. “Want some privacy?” he asked.
“Yeah. Go get me some water, please,” Abigail said. John and Arthur left the tent. Arthur patted his shoulder and John walked to Pearson’s wagon. The sun was just peaking over the horizon. John yawned and got Abigail a mug of water.
“Hi, John,” Tilly said.
“Hey. You okay?” he asked. Tilly smiled.
“I should be asking you that. How are you? How’s Abigail?” Tilly asked. John put his hand on Tilly’s shoulder.
“I’m okay. Abigail is good. Tired as hell,” John said. Tilly smiled and hugged him.
“You’re a dad now, little Johnny!” she said. John groaned and pushed her away. She laughed. “You are, though! You got a kid. That’s so damn crazy,” Tilly said.
“I know, I’m a full adult now, Tills,” John said. Tilly smiled and hugged him again.
“When can I see him?” Tilly asked.
“I’ll bring him out a little later,” John said. Tilly kissed his cheek and he went to bring the cup of water to Abigail. She was finishing the feeding and smiled at him. She was still sleepy but happy. He gave her the cup of water and kissed her head.
“How’s everyone?” Abigail asked.
“Worried about you. Wants to see the boy. Only Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea have seen him and met him,” John said. Abigail nodded a bit.
“That’s alright. Everyone’ll be bothering him soon enough,” Abigail said. John sat next to her and stared down at his son.
“We have a kid. A kid, Ab. Look at him,” John said. Abigail chuckled.
“I know,” she whispered. John kissed her cheek. He was terrified of messing this perfect little thing up. But, with his family around, maybe the kid would turn out alright. Maybe he wouldn’t be like his namesake.