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“Well, I'm real happy for you, John,” Sadie says, and knowing her for this long, John knows she means it. “Being married, it made me real happy,” she adds.
And John can only imagine how great a man Jake must've been. It makes him a little dizzy too, the fact that he hasn't met many great men in his life.
Maybe two or three. He thinks about Hosea often. And Arthur. Sadie must think of Jake a whole lot.
So he asks, “Would you do it again? Marriage?”
While staring at the back of her head, her hair barely kept under control in a single braid. There's blood on her coat and on her boots. Sadie Adler, famous bounty hunter, his long-time friend. And here he is, asking her if she would marry again.
John accepts her silence as an answer, but then, Sadie says, “I've thought about it.”
“Yeah?”
“Not now, I mean. Now I'm satisfied with my horse and killin’ bastards for cash. I meant, uh, some years back.”
“You met a fella?”
John clicks his tongue, and his mare speeds up enough to catch up with Hera, Sadie's horse. Now he can see the uncertainty in his friend's eyes.
It's the first time he's witnessing such a feeling on Sadie Adler's face. It almost feels wrong to see it. He focuses on the road.
“You could say that,” she tilts her head. “I’ve loved two men my entire life, and they're both dead. So I guess love ain't for me.”
Hera neighs quietly, as if disagreeing with her rider.
And John lowers his head, ashamed. He feels stupid. “I'm sorry, Sadie. I shouldn't have asked.”
Sadie snorts. “It's alright, Cowboy. We both grieve him just the same.”
John frowns. He tries to think of men from their past. Well, the gang had lots of men. Too much even. He fails to remember Sadie favoring any of them; she has always been independent and, to be fair, lonely. She was mostly quiet with the rest of the gang. The only one she seemed to trust was-
And then it hits him.
He stops his horse in the middle of the road. “Sadie…”
Hera comes to a halt, and Sadie turns her around. She opens her mouth to speak, but John cuts her off.
“I'm sorry, I had no idea.”
Sadie offers him a sad smile. “No one did, not even him. And to be honest, not even myself. I didn't notice I felt anythin’ until he died.”
“How'd you know?” John asks as they resume their way.
“I felt the same way when Jake died. You know, that type of grief that makes your head go real quiet. And sometimes you forget which day it is ‘cause you can't remember nothin’.”
“I get what you mean. I didn't feel that way, but you know, he was my brother.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And for what's worth, I believe he loved you too.”
Arthur never told him anything of the sort, no. But John would watch his eyes follow Sadie through the camp. And he'd hear Arthur saying she was the bravest person he's ever met.
And Sadie, never betraying who she is, snorts.
“Arthur Morgan? Please, that man died with Mary Linton in his heart, and we all know that.”
“So? Jake never stopped you from loving Arthur.”
John knows he has a point, and judging by the deep sigh he hears coming from Sadie, she knows it too.
“It don't matter no more,” she shrugs. “He ain't here to hear me sayin’ I miss him like crazy.”
John misses him like crazy, too. But she already knows that. There is, however, one thing she doesn't know. Yet.
“Charles told me he buried him on top of a hill northeast of Bacchus Station. Maybe you should pay him a visit. I think he'll be there to hear you say it.”