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The letter weighs almost nothing, but to Jack, it’s like he’s holding up the world.
It came in the mail three days ago, he hasn’t read it yet, he doesn’t want to, he’s been keeping it from his mother since. He hadn’t thought that John would’ve known that he and his mother ran away to Emerald Ranch, and he never would’ve thought that he’d be writing to them after two months.
Abigail would be thrilled to know that he’s written, Jack just can’t bear it when he has to read it to her in their tiny bedroom on the ranch and have it be his father saying he wants nothing to do with either of them anymore, or that he won’t be back in this part of the country for a long, long time. He’s thought about tearing it into tiny shreds or leaving it outside on a rainy night, but whenever he goes to do so, he can think of his mothers heartbroken expression if she were to find out.
Part of him never wants to see his pa again. It’s an awful thing to think, he knows that, but with the way his mother reacts whenever John gets into trouble, he’d rather not go through the grief again.
Emerald Ranch is nicer than Pronghorn Ranch in a few ways. Jack likes the sheep and the weather they have in Scarlet Meadows, but he’s completely surrounded by adults. He wasn’t really friends with Duncan, having someone his age is nice and all the men here berate him too hard. It’s always different when the somewhat harsh words come from his father, he knows that it’s coming from a part of him that wants to correct him so he doesn’t end up getting himself killed over something stupid and another part that wants him to know no embarrassment, even though half the time Jack would wish that John said nothing when he did something dumb or smart. When it’s men Jack couldn’t care less for if he tried, he understands his fathers quick-to-anger, quick-to-fight ways.
Men with no children, men with no wives, men who will stay on the ranch until they’re grey and their shoulders can’t support a bale of hay are the kind of men that inhabit Emerald Ranch. Jack shears the sheep and helps garden, Abigail cleans the main house, but she’s never seen that woman that’s rumored to be locked up inside, she’s heard her walking around, though. Those men treat Jack and Abigail as anyone would expect them to be treated, poorly.
A prostitute and her bastard son? Surely that poor woman needs someone to warm her bed, I’ll be good to the boy in the nights I stay with them.
The men who haven’t made passes at his mother have made sure to make it known that he isn’t as good at his jobs as the other men are. Jack doesn’t know why the Wegners agreed to let him and his ma stay, they have little to offer that the ranch doesn’t already have, but Jack should be grateful, he’s tired of riding in the back of a wagon for days just to find a place to stay and then abandon a few days after.
Emerald Ranch is nice, but Jack doesn’t want to stay here forever.
He’s sure there’s somewhere better for him and his ma, where they don’t gotta worry and they don’t gotta beg for sympathy from others, and he’s sure that his father can provide no such place.
So, Jack sits just a bit beyond the state line into Lemoyne, facing the ranch. He curls the corners of the envelope between his thumb and pointer finger, rolling it back and forth as he stares down at the thin lines of his fathers cursive.
The lantern to his right lights the field better than the stars do, he walked himself out here, wanted to finally read it, tear it up if he can’t stomach it, he snuck out off the ranch just to get it done without being heard. A fox yips somewhere behind him in the woods, a few fireflies fly out from the grass and blink on and off, Jack is alone.
Slowly, he tears the envelope flap open and pulls out the neatly folded piece of paper tucked inside. He read over the first few words when someone started walking down the road beside Seamus’s barn.
“Jack!” The voice was his mothers, he couldn’t see her face from the darkness and distance, but he could see her walking closer. He stuffs his fathers letter back into his coat pocket, crumpling it a tiny bit.
She walked all the way over, muttering as she came things he couldn’t hear but could only imagine that it was her rehearsing the scolding words she would say. She really started yelling when she was maybe fifteen feet away from him, hand on her hips and that enraged face she’s so good at making.
“Scared me half to death! What’s got you out so late, huh? You’re s’posed to be in bed!” she stopped when she stood in front of him, leaning forward and fixing him with the same look she gives John when he’s done something wrong.
“I went for a walk,” Jack bit, sitting up straighter. “‘S too stuffy in our room.”
“Then what’re you sittin’ down for?” she scoffs. Jack sighs, Abigail sits next to him and reaches to wrap her arm around his shoulder, but he shrugs her off.
“Can’t you ever just get off my back?” Jack dug his heels into the dirt, clenching his jaw, sounding like his father.
“Come back to bed.” she scoots closer, no longer sounding as angry. “What’s botherin’ you?”
“Nothin’, mama.”
“Jackie,” he didn’t flinch or move when she hooked her arm around him this time. “You can’t lie to me.” she chuckled, low and quiet, like it was a sad joke. She brought her hand up to run her fingers over his short hair, rubbing her thumb behind his ear.
She’s always been too forgiving, he could say the most awful things to her and she’d still keep a candle lit for him. That’s the way she’s been with John, why wouldn’t she do the same for her son? She may cuss him out and give him a smack one day, but moments later she’d be pulling him into her arms, cradling him like a baby.
“... Missin’ your pa?” she tries, pushing the hair out of his face, he shakes his head softly. “Don’t like it here?” Another head shake.
“I just can’t sleep, okay?” she tuts, he pulls away, moving over about a foot, the letter crinkles in his pocket.
“Come out here to write?” All he does is nod, not looking at his ma when she smiles. “Would you read it t’me?”
He looks back up at her face, the lantern lets him see how hopeful she is, he himself is panicking.
“It ain’t done yet.”
“So?” she laughs, inching closer to him. “I like any story you write, is it knights again?”
“No, mama.”
“Cowboys?” she tries to mimic her husband’s voice, pinching her eyebrows together to mimic his glare.
“I– I guess.”
“You guess?” She laughs again, pulling him closer. “C’mon, I wanna hear ‘bout tumbleweeds and rattlesnakes, what’s the horse's name?”
“Rachel.” her smile falls for a second, then she rubs her hand up and down his back,
“Oh,” she looks back at Emerald Ranch, cupping the back of his neck. “I’m not– You can miss him, I’m not mad.”
“God, ma, it’s not like that!” he shoves her this time, standing up and glaring at her, fists clenched. “Why can’t you let it be?”
“Let what be, Jack?” she spits back at him, shooting up almost as fast as he does. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”
“I ain’t a kid!”
“What does that have to do with anythin’?” he huffs, turning his back to her so he can clench his fists without her looking him dead in the eyes.
“I don’t need you coddlin’ me every day, ain’t a damn toddler.” he says it slowly, she walks to him again, always forgiving.
“I know that,” her hand smoothes over his hair again. “I wish you were, but you ain’t. I just… You… You’re my son.” she leans over him, pulling him into a sort-of hug. “What’s wrong?”
He sighs, knowing it’s over for him. He fishes the letter out of his pocket and faces her, shoving it into her hands. She looks over it, face lighting up when she sees John’s name written at the bottom of the letter.
“Oh, my, when’d this come in?”
She’s smiling, it makes Jack feel so guilty. He purses his lips and looks down at his feet, like studying the blades of grass was important.
“Jack?”
“A few days ago.” she flinches, face falling once again.
“And you kept it from me?”
He frowns, crossing his arms. “I thought it was bad news.”
“Bad news!” she rubs her eyes, holding the paper to her chest. “Jackie, even if it is bad news, I need to know about it!”
“You’re the one that wanted to leave! Figured if it was bad news then we’d just move again!”
“God damnit, Jack!” she holds the now wrinkled letter out in front of her, pointing at her. “This isn’t somethin’ you keep from me! We had to go, you know why, and you knew we’d be goin’ back when your pa weren’t gettin’ into trouble anymore!”
“He’s always gettin’ into trouble!” he shouts, “You were there when he killed people, it was never a secret!”
“He ain’t all bad, Jack! That’s your pa, he loves you, you understand that, don’t you? I’m… I’m keepin’ you safe, and he knows that.”
Abigail is too forgiving, but so is he. His forgiving is different from hers, though. She can punish John, from the cold shoulder to taking herself and her son away for a while, she knows John will come around and then she can go back to being his wife when he brings himself to apologize. She’s happy to, she wants things to be different and she’ll forgive when apologized to because there’s not much else to do.
Jack forgives because it’s all he can really do at his age, but he lets that anger fester. He’s got nowhere else to go, he won’t be able to make it without his parents, he can’t fight the same way his parents do. He may not forgive John and he may not forgive his mama for her inability to leave, but he’ll act like he does, just because it’s his only real option.
She scratches the back of her head to try to cover up the way she sniffles, pulling at a tangle in her hair before she reaches for her son and puts her hand on his shoulder, pushing him back towards the ranch and grabbing the lantern on the ground.
He follows his ma willingly even though he drags his feet in the dirt, no one else is awake at this hour, lanterns were lit along the road and in the stables, but there was nobody to stand in the window and watch them.
She pushed him inside of the room they were living in and snapped her fingers at his bed, they sat together, she chewed on her lip for a few seconds before she said, “Read it to me.”
Abigail set the letter down gently in his lap, looking down at the floorboards instead of at her son.
He held it in his hands for just a few more seconds, regretting not tearing it up or keeping it hidden better before he opened up the envelope flap again and unfolded the paper. He reads over the first few sentences once or twice, trying to figure out if this was really a letter from John Marston based simply on if he still sounded like a fool.
Jack looked at his mama, this was different from when he’s read her the dime novels people had gifted him when he was much younger or the ones his father bought him when he was trying to apologize without saying the words.
“My darling Abigail,” he cleared his throat, “I hope you and Jack are doing well. I… I remain a fool and I’m sure I shall die a fool. But I’m trying very hard to be something like the man you deserve.” He read slowly, but he didn’t mumble, Abigail leaned a bit closer to him with each word he said.
“I’ve done something very silly in an effort to impress you, and that is I’ve purchased a home.” Jack only stopped reading for a second to look at his mother when he said that, the way she straightened out and finally looked at her son instead of the floor like she was trying to hold back a smile hurt him, oddly.
He swallowed before continuing, “The land you read about in the newspaper up at Beecher's Hope is now ours and we are going to try our hand at ranching. Mr. Geddes helped me buy the land, I met Uncle while I was coming out of the bank and while I know your feelings about him, he had been enormously helpful in his own fashion. Charles Smith had also appeared and is unsurprisingly a pillar of strength. Together, we’ve built you a home. I hope soon to show it to you, I miss you and the boy more than I can express.”
He looked up again at his mama, she grabbed hold of his forearm, nodding at the paper. He sighed, “Please, come back to me… Yours always, John.”
She grinned at him as she pulled him into a hug, resting her head on top of his and squeezing him tight. “Oh, Jackie,” it sounded like she was sniffling, but her chest rumbled against his like she was overjoyed, “This is… this is amazing.”
He wanted to tell her it wasn’t, he wanted to say that the ranching won’t work out and they’ll end up on the run again and that the next time John writes to them, begging for forgiveness, Jack won’t be going back to him with his mother. John Marston didn’t even mention his son until the very end of his letter. He doesn’t have to impress Jack with a home or by calling himself foolish and that Abigail was right just as she always was. He just had to impress his mother, because wherever Abigail goes, Jack goes.
Abigail pulled away from him and placed her hand on his jaw, stroking her thumb underneath his ear. “We got a home of our own!” she laughed weakly, her other hand coming up to wipe her watery eyes. Then, she was hugging him again, tighter this time, he couldn’t do anything but hug her back.
They’re leaving Emerald Ranch in two days, it’s already been one since he read the letter.
It’s not as if they have much to pack, Abigail just needed to work something out with the owners.
Jack didn’t want to leave, he couldn’t tell his mother what she wanted to be just him having a bad attitude, but it was driving him crazy.
He had laid awake that night after his mama went back to sleep, thinking about how he’d have to go back to the inevitable arguing and all the new chores. Abigail would be in a love-struck haze for a few days, then John would go and make a mess that proved her leaving to be the better option.
It still bothers him that he was only mentioned in the letter once. He knows the letter was for Abigail, it was to convince her that John was still good enough to be part of her life and that he regretted pushing it to the point of her leaving, but he knew Jack would be the one who would end up reading it, didn’t he?
She was absolutely giddy, though. Telling all the other working women of the ranch that her man finally got the sense knocked into him and now she’ll be sleeping in a bigger bed and will be taking care of her own land instead of someone else's.
He tried not to think about how he’d be uprooted all over again before the week was out, he spent more time plucking weeds from the garden beds than he ever had the whole time they’d been staying at the ranch, finding more chores to do so he wouldn’t have to go back into their stuffy room and hear his ma repeat herself for the hundredth time about how everything will be different now. Jack wants to believe it, he really does. But where’s that hope going to get her when she realizes that the life she’s so desperately been trying to get John to follow makes him leave for good, or when their ranch fails and they don’t have the money to start over again, or when John gets himself killed.
He’d made his comments, but he can’t get his mother to change her mind when she’s finally set on something. Even if he were to voice them even a little bit louder, it would destroy Abigail, and even if he wanted her to feel bad and to hold her ground a little longer for once in her life, it would lead to even more roaming and she’d be the only one to take care of him again, even if John continued to not do much if they were together.
So he has to swallow his resentment and be pulled along by his parents until he’s too old to be held onto or until it all blows up in his parents' faces. He’ll fight them again another day, consequences be damned.
A stray dog limped onto the ranch the morning after he read the letter, whining and hobbling over to whoever was working, begging for a scrap of food, just for them to turn the dog away or shut the door in its face. Jack was the only one who fed it, he didn’t know what was wrong with his leg, but he let the dog lay next to him while he weeded for hours, he carried him when he needed to and pumped water from the water pump into a bowl for him. Maybe his mama will let him keep the dog, he can argue and say it’ll tie the family together, he’ll name him Rufus.