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“Abigail! ABIGAIL, JACK!” Marston yelled as he jumped off of his horse, not minding to hitch his steed before running to the front of his house.
Nobody came out of the house and Marston began to worry. Had the Pinkertons done something to his wife and son? Did they lie about his family being back? John would kill every single one of them if they even thought about hurting Jack or Abigail. The thought of the Pinkertons just hurting them over the fact that they just stayed with the Van Der Linde gang, though never committing any crimes, made John’s blood boil. Jack was just a boy then and Abigail wasn’t much older than eighteen.
Just then the door opened and Abigail stormed out, over to John with an irritated look on her face.
“Where have you been, John!?” She said while hitting Marston in the chest out of anger.
“Where have you been!?”
“You know where I’ve been darling!-” John said back, relieved to see that his wife was alright like the Pinkertons had said.
“You know where I’ve been..”
Abigail took a step back and crossed her arms as she took a minute to calm herself down. She was worried that Dutch had somehow convinced John to go back to the outlaw life like the crazy old man had done multiple times before. Dutch not only manipulated John to stay with him but also Arthur, Charles, and everyone else that had their doubts after Hosea died all of those years ago in Saint Denis.
“And you didn’t go back to him?” Abigail asked John after she calmed down.
“No, of course not.” John added a scoff at the end, acting as if he couldn’t believe what she had just asked him.
“I’m done in those ways, Abigail. I’m not going back.”
Abigail sighed and shook her head at her husband before walking back inside to start dinner. John stood there for a second longer to throw his hands out in defeat at his wife then walked inside after her.
The first few hours of John being home was spent by him caring for his guns, making sure they were in the best condition they could be. It was one of the things he had learned to do from Arthur and damn, he loved doing anything that reminded him of that man. He was the closest thing he had to a brother in the messed up family between the gang. Even though he loved doing the things Arthur did with him it also hurt. Just maybe if John tried a little harder to convince him to come with him instead of going back just maybe Arthur could have lived another year. The thought would eat at him alive every time Jack asked a question about Uncle Javier or Aunt Karen or even what happened to Micah.
As John set the gun he was cleaning down Abigail came into the room raising her voice.
“John! How many times do I have to call you? Get out here, your dinner is getting cold!”
John wiped the excess gun oil that got on him onto his pants to clean off his hands.
“I was trying to finish this up first.”
“Well come and eat. You can finish up tomorrow.”
“I’m done now.”
John walked over to Abigail and put his hand on her hip to walk her out to the dining room but Abigail slapped his hand away.
“Don’t, I’m still upset with you, John.”
Abigail walked out of the room and went back to the dining room with Uncle and Jack.
“Darling!” John yelled.
“Don’t ‘darling’ me!” Abigail shouted back.
“Whatever.” John whispered to himself and went out the way Abigail left.
As John went out to the dining room and took a seat at the table to eat, Uncle just had to make a comment about something.
“Ooh looky who it is- John Marston. I thought those would have just hung you on the spot.”
“Yeah, and I was hoping you just up and left, old man.”
“There you are with the same old attitude. You’re more sour than some milk left out in the sun.”
“And what would you know about that? All you do all day is lay with a bottle in hand.”
“Oh, you-”
Before Uncle could get another word in, Abigail stepped in to stop in. There's no need to be fighting at the dinner table. Especially in front of a lady.
“Uncle!” Abigail shouted to get the two men from saying another word to each other.
“What?” Uncle said back with bitterness in his voice.”
“Don’t talk back to her, you old man! You know what!” John shouted.
Uncle left it at that and instead went to grumbling things under his breath.
The dinner table was quiet for the most part. The only noise being wooden spoons scraping against wooden bowls and the sound of an occasional slurp of the stew. It seemed like no one really wanted to eat but everyone was too hungry to really care to say anything. With the sun setting everything in the room was cast in an orange and pink light coming in from the windows. It was a while before anyone was finished with their food. No one saying a word or getting up until Abigail finally spoke up.
“Would anyone like some more?” She asked the table.
Everyone else gave a collective “No” to her and got up from their seats.
Abigail began picking up the bowls and cleaning off the table after the men left to do god knows what.
The house was lit by the few candles and oil lamps the family had. Everyone was in bed at this point, ready to sleep. John and Abigail cuddled together in the thin sheets. It wasn’t every day they got to have a moment to themselves. The last time they even saw each other was a few months ago before the pinkertons came. There was a peaceful silence around them as the wind gently blew against the windows and doors outside. A candle, lit next to their bed, was the only source of light in the room, casting a golden glow on the backs of the Marstons. Abigail then made a remark to John that momentarily disrupted the ambiance.
“You’re a silly man, John Marston. But I love you.”
“I love you too, Mrs. Marston.”
They gave each other a small peck on the lips then John blew out the candle.
Milk splashed in the pail even as Marston tried to hold it still while he carried them over to the empty milk jugs to pour it in. Once the jug was filled to the brim he lugged the jug to his wagon to sell it off later. ‘Damn, that’s heavy.’ He thought and stretched his back to alleviate some tension from his muscles.
John sighed in relief, he was done on the farm for today. He loved his work but he wasn’t getting any younger. When he went to take a break he found his son, Jack, sitting in his usual spot under the shady tree by the barn.
“What’re you reading, Jack?” John asked his son and took his hat off his head to fan himself with it for a minute.
“Oh, it’s nothing, pa. Nothing you would be interested in.” Jack responded.
“Is it one of them stories about knights that you always read?”
“No sir, it’s about cowboys and Indians.”
John told Jack that instead of reading he could help him with hunting for the winter. Jack was reluctant to accept, not wanting to put his book down and leave his stories but agreed, feeling the need to please his father. John and Jack grabbed their horses and headed off to Tall Trees after telling Abigail that they’ll be gone for a few hours. On the ride over to the forested area there was just small banter back and forth between the two Marstons. John was trying to talk with his son but Jack was annoyed that his father wasn’t always around much anymore and that he had to do something other than read all day. Jack was a growing man and ways were changing fast and John knew Jack could be whatever he set his mind to but he was just worried for the boy. He didn’t want Jack to get stuck in business with the men that always dressed smart.
As they made their way through the giant trees and slush John had spotted some tracks up ahead.
“Slow up.” He yelled to Jack behind him.
John jumped off his horse to examine the type of animal that could have made them. The tracks weren’t that defined so they must have been from a little while ago but the animal could still be nearby. They seemed to be from some type of elk. Perfect. Marston could keep half the meat and sell the rest and the pelt at Manzanita Post for some cash. John called for his yellow labrador retriever, Rufus, for the dog to track down the animal for him and Jack to hunt. Rufus sniffed for the scent then ran off to look for the animal.
“Follow him, pa!” Jack said then kicked his boots against his horse to get him galloping.
Marston quickly got back on his horse and kicked his spurs to follow the dog and Jack. His horse kicked up some snow and dirt and went after Rufus. The chilling air cut against John’s face, making it sting.
Rufus stopped running after a while into a warmer part of Tall Trees, not far from where they started off a couple minutes ago. He sat in a pile of leaves with his blonde furry tail wagging and barking for Jack and John to come over on their horses. John looked around the area and spotted two elk grazing, just a few feet away that blended in with the trees. He pulled out his rifle from the holster on his horse and aimed it at one of the animals. He looked over at his son to make sure he was watching before turning back and pulling back the trigger.
One of the elk fell to the ground after a loud BANG rang through the air. John’s horse was slightly startled by the noise, almost trying to buck him off to get away because of the gun shot right next to her head. Marston took a moment to pet his horse to calm her down.
“It’s alright girl…” He told the mare, running his hand over her until she was fine. Marston put his rifle away and pulled the reins over to the animal that now lays dead by the river.
They both dropped down from their horses, crouching by the corpse. John grabbed his knife from his belt then plunged it into the elk's abdomen and cut up. He sliced and pulled at the outer tissue to get it off. While his father skinned the poor animal, Jack couldn’t help but make a sound of disgust at the scene. Not only that but the smell was awful as well. How did hunters do this every year? And his father expected him to do this next? After John got the skin and some meat off of the elk he placed it onto the back of his steed and remounted her.
“Now your turn Jack, just like I showed you.”
“Okay, pa.” Jack responded to his father then yelled for Rufus to go and find the elk that had run off in fear.
Jack and John followed Rufus through the trees once more until they had found what they were looking for. When it actually came time for Jack to shoot the animal. He was hesitant to pull the trigger. He was nervous but tried to overcome it with a few deep breaths. In… and out… Jack pulled back the trigger, firing the gun right into the head of the elk, killing it instantly.
“I did it, pa!” Jack yelled to his father.
“See? You're a good shot, Jack, now let's get these two up to the Manzanita post.” Jack shoved the rifle he was holding into the satchel of his horse and climbed on ready to follow his father. John saw this and raised the reins to bring them down with an equal kick to the horses sides with his boot spears. They rode up the dirt path, nearing the end of tall trees.
John and young Jack arrived back on Beecher's Hope. Abigail came out the door from cooking a stew and hugs each of her boys tightly. She was worried Jack would get hurt from not listening to his father. He was a bit of a rebellious boy when it came to John. She couldn't really blame him though. Jack probably didn't even remember but John didn't even think Jack was his son until he was 4 years old. Jack followed his mother inside to set the table for supper. John went to find Uncle sleeping under a tree instead of rounding up horses like he asked.
“What's wrong with you old man!?” John yelled and kicked Uncle in the foot. This caused Uncle to wake suddenly and stand up in the shaded area.
“What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you, John Marston!? I was just shutting my eyes, is all.” Uncle said a bit winded, knowing he was caught. He was hoping John would've taken all day. Which is what Uncle would have done if he was instead out in Tall Trees.
Uncle grumbled about his lumbago to John like he always did but immediately shut his mouth as he saw a group of about 30 men in suits and ties riding up on horses into Beecher's Hope. This hadn't been the first time lawmen invaded the property. It happened a few months ago when Edgar Ross and the other Pinkertons came to find John. The visit was as expected as a fish found in water. It wasn't a surprise. Marston was once one of the most trusted in the gang… with faults of course. But still once one of Dutch's most needed men.
“Who are those fellas? The law?” Huffed Uncle while he scratched at his wiry, greasy beard. When was the last time he took a bath?
Light running footsteps made their way out of the house and onto the front porch of the Marstons. It was Jack. He came out of the kitchen to inform his father that Abigail had finished cooking up dinner. John cut that short with a shout. He insisted strongly for his wife and son to run to the horses in the barn. Jack glanced at his father with a befuddled look on his face. He only realized the severity of the command when he saw the absurd amount of law men together. They were in danger. Jack gave a hesitant but firm nod to John before rushing back inside to get his mother to safety.
John ducked behind a wagon and Uncle ran to grab a rifle that lay against the front of the house. Gun fire rang out between the two groups. Although outnumbered, John and Uncle were able to get fatal shots to a few men. John was able to fall back little by little towards the barn due to Uncle covering him. Abigail and Jack came out of the house one after the other. Uncle, getting distracted in the moment, accidentally left himself open to a bullet to the heart. Jack screamed out to the old man he had known since birth. He knelt down next to Uncle, trying to stop the bleeding but it was no use. Uncle had already slipped away into death. Abigail tried to comfort her boy while simultaneously trying to pull him away.
Grabbing the rifle from Uncle's dead hands, Jack knew he had no time to grieve. He ran down the front steps after making sure his mother was following him before sliding under the cover of a wheelbarrow. Why was this happening? Why were the lawmen here? Jack thought his father was done with the gang business. Did his father lie? No–that couldn’t be. It was the law he was talking about! Nothing good ever comes from them. That’s something he’s learned from a young age. Never trust a man in a suit.
Jack was pulled from his thoughts as Abigail pulled him to his feet and ran to the back of the barn after John yelled for them to ensue close. The Marston’s hurried inside, closing the back door after them. John set the saddle onto one of the fastest horses they had and allowed Jack to climb up the stirrups then lifting his wife up onto the back of the horse.
“I love you two.” John said with affection in his voice. He planted a small kiss onto Abigail’s check and gave a pat to Jack’s back as if it were a farewell between them three. “Keep your mother safe, Jack. I’ll catch up once I’m done here.”
“But, Pa!” Jack tried to interrupt. He was worried about what would happen to his father. A run in hadn’t been this bad since 1900.
“Jack!”
“Y-Yes…” The knowledge that something terrible was going to happen to John made Jack want to pull his father onto the horse and run into the sunset. But, he knew that’s not how this was going to end. His father was either going rot in prison for the rest of his life, sent to be hanged, or shot on the spot. Even in his fear, he knew this was his only choice. “Yes, sir,” said Jack sadly.
A slap was sent to the hind leg of the horse, causing him to rear up slightly and take off out of the back of the barn. John sighed as he watched his lady and his boy make their way out of the ranch. He took his pistol from his belt and checked the chamber to find only 4 bullets left. 4 bullets for about 20 lawmen left alive. This wasn’t going to end well. John pushed the large wooden door ajar just a bit to scope out the real situation.
Not a second later the barn doors swung open and unexpected shots entered two of the lawmen’s heads. The many others still alive fired full rounds into the former outlaws body. Once every man was out of bullets everything went silent. John’s body full of holes gushed blood heavily. He fell to his knees and panted in pain as his body tried desperately to keep him alive even if it was a losing fight.
Edgar Ross, the man that had orchestrated the entire ordeal stood in front of all waiting to see John drop. And just like that, he did. John stopped breathing and fell face first into the muddy soil beneath him.
The gun shots slowly dissipated into the dusty air that surrounded the now empty ranch as Edgar Ross rounded his men and galloped off on their horses.
Jack pulled back on the reins a bit too hard. The shots stopping suddenly chilled him to his bones. Jack turned the horse with a harsh yank to the left. He kicked his spurs and drove as fast as he could to Beecher's Hope.
It was silent. Wood chips thrown all over the ground from bullets missing and hitting wagons instead. Jack jumped off the horse and ran to his father's horse before she even stopped. Abigail soon followed after with a look of dismay on her face
“Oh, John…” Abigail covered her mouth with her hand to cover the quivering of her lip. She kneeled in her dress by her dead husband's side. Abigail ran her hand over John's still warm face that was splattered in his own blood.
“Mama, they.. they killed him!” Jack yelled in rage. His father was a completely changed person. How could the law do this to a person and still call themselves good?