This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. I just finished Red Dead Redemption a few days ago and the idea for this story popped into my head so I decide to run with it. Feedback is greatly appreciated!
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters/places/etc. related to Red Dead Redemption belong to Rockstar and other respective owners of the game.
A sea of orange light washed over the land as the sun began to set over the Beecher's Hope countryside. It almost seemed to highlight one hill in particular. Upon the hill were two graves. Below the hill lay a small ranch. A teenage boy sat on the steps leading up to the large wrap-around porch around the house. He looked at the hill and thought about how his life had been turned upside down.
The two graves were a reminder that two of the most important people in Jack Marston's life were gone. Life had dealt Jack an unfair hand, and he felt resentment toward everyone who had been responsible for the two lives lost six months before. His gaze fell on the crosses, silhouetted in the fading sunlight. One grave was for Uncle, who ironically enough had been no relation to Jack or his parents, but had been a faithful family friend. Uncle had died defending the family from the Army when they came after Jack's father John. Jack had thought his father would be around a long time now. His father had done everything the government men wanted, but in the end, they had turned on him in an attempt to eradicate the last remaining member of Dutch van der Linde's gang that his father had once run with.
Jack quickly realized he was not as ready to grow up as he had thought once he had to take over the ranch. His thoughts turned to the day he and his mother had been reunited with his father after being held hostage until his father did Edgar Ross's dirty work. It had been a day of both happiness and bitterness for Jack. He had been happy to see his father again, but he resented his father for being away so long.
The day he went hunting for elk with his father had been one of the best days of his life. For a brief moment, he got a glimpse into what it was like to have what he considered as a normal day spending time with his father. John had taught his son the basics when it came to hunting that day, including how to skin the elk he had killed. Jack remembered foolishly thinking a few days later that he thought he could hunt down the grizzly bear that lived near the mountains.
His father saved his life that day, and now Jack only wished he could've returned the favor when his father needed saving. Now he was running a ranch on his own and trying to take care of his mother. The sixteen year old suddenly began to wonder just how much longer he could keep trying to run the ranch his father had worked so hard to have.
A sound near the barn snapped him out of his reverie. Darkness had engulfed Beecher's Hope where the Marston ranch was located, but Jack could see in the moonlight that a couple coyotes were prowling around the barn. He heard the lone horse in the barn snorting as one of the wolves growled at the barn door. Jack quickly got to his feet and picked up his rifle that had been lying beside him, aimed it, and fired. His aim was off, which didn't surprise him. He was not the marksman his father had been. But it was enough to scare one of the coyotes off. The other one bolted around the barn. Jack faintly saw it jump the fence into the small paddock behind the barn. Jack ran toward the paddock, rifle in hand and ready to shoot. The coyote had singled out one of the few cows and was nipping at its heels.
Jack steadied his aim and fired. For once, the shot was dead on. The coyote dropped to the ground. He breathed a sigh of relief and glanced around to make sure the other coyote had not returned or brought reinforcements. A loud bark sounded by the gate as Rufus, the family dog, had finally come to see what the commotion was. The yellow Labrador growled when he saw the dead coyote on the ground. Jack checked to make sure all the cattle were okay before walking over to lean his rifle against the fence before going back to pick up the dead body of the coyote. Jack shouldered the coyote's body, picked his rifle up again, and walked away from the barn to get the dead animal away from the cattle. Five of their cows had already been taken by wolves, and now the coyotes were becoming bold. Jack knew they could not afford to lose any more.
He tossed the coyote's body onto the ground well away from the barn past the edge of the property. Rufus ran to join him, sniffing at the coyote before looking up at Jack.
"Come on, boy," Jack nodded toward the house. "Let's go check on Ma."
Jack's heart sank at the thought of his mother as he walked back toward the house. Abigail Marston had become withdrawn since the loss of her husband. She barely spoke, and half the time she avoided Jack. He was not too certain why his mother seemed to avoid him, but he thought of a few possibilities.
He stepped into the house, leaning his rifle against the wall just inside the door. Rufus followed him in and went straight to Jack's bedroom. Jack closed the door, making sure to lock it before going to his mother's bedroom. He knocked on the closed door.
"Ma?" he called out. "Can I come in?"
A couple moments passed. No reply came. He eased the door open to find his mother curled up on the bed. She lay on her side, looking at what had once been her husband's side of the bed. The fire roaring in the fireplace illuminated the room. Jack cautiously approached the bed, walking around to the side his mother was staring at. She looked up at him.
"I miss him, Jack," she whispered. Tears formed in her eyes.
"I know, Ma," he sat down on the edge of the bed. He extended a hand to rest it on his mother's shoulder. "I miss him, too."
"He loved you, Jack," Abigail began to cry. "He told me what you said the day he saved you from that grizzly."
Jack tried to remember what he had said to his father that day. Some things he remembered. Others he was not proud about.
"You were never a nuisance to him," his mother told him through a sob she tried to choke back. "The day you were born... Your father was happier that day than he was the day he and I were married. He was proud to have you as a son."
A smile tugged at the corners of Jack's mouth. "I'm proud he was my father."
Abigail managed a small smile. It was the first time Jack had seen his mother smile since his father was gunned down.
"What happened outside?" she suddenly asked. "I heard you shooting at something."
"Coyotes," Jack answered solemnly. "Only two this time. I scared one off, and I managed to kill the other one. I didn't see any wolves though."
"Those damned beasts are ruining everything," his mother said bitterly.
Jack knew she was right. He could barely keep the wolves at bay anymore, and with the coyotes invading, keeping the ranch going had become increasingly harder . They were running out of money, and the cattle were the primary source for their income at the moment. Jack had reluctantly sold his beloved horse, a beautiful brown and white pinto stallion. The horse had been a gift from his father for his thirteenth birthday. It had pained Jack to sell the horse, but he had no choice. It was keep the horse and lose the ranch or sell the horse and at least have enough money to keep enough food for the remaining horse and the rest of their small herd of cattle. He still had one horse though. It was a black American standardbred stallion that had belonged to his father. Jack knew there was no way he would ever sell that horse.
"I'll go out first thing in the morning and see if I can't get rid of that pack of wolves that keeps hanging around," Jack told her.
"It's no use," his mother's voice sounded so small. "We can't keep this ranch going. We need your father."
"But he can't help us now, Ma," Jack pointed out.
"I know that!" his mother suddenly yelled, looking at him hatefully. "He had to face those men on his own. If he had come with us, he could still be alive! Why did he have to be so stupid?"
"He did it to protect us," Jack tried to reason.
"I told him that life we once led would never go away," Abigail's gaze met Jack's. "We did all we could to make sure you never had to live the way we did when we were your age. You're a brilliant boy, Jack. You can read and write, which is far more than I can do. You'll go far if you put that mind of yours to it, but you won't go far staying on this ranch."
"Ma, you're not saying what I think you're saying, are you?"
"Jack, we're only fooling ourselves. Neither of us is capable of running this place without your father. We're barely making it as it is. I'm no good outside this house, and you're hunting skills are barely keeping food on the table."
Jack felt insulted. "I'm not letting this ranch go. Pa wanted me to own this ranch one day, and I will not give it up. I'm going to run this place like he would have. This ranch will make it."
He was caught off guard when his mother brushed his hand away from her shoulder. Her expression darkened. It was a look that scared Jack.
"You'll never be your father," Abigail said quietly. "You're just a boy, Jack. Running a ranch is a man's work. We should let someone else take it over and move away."
"I can do it," Jack said defiantly, getting to his feet. "Pa once said this ranch would be the best one out there. I will not let his dream die. We can't give up just because he isn't here anymore!"
Anger coursed through his veins at the thought of his mother thinking they should give the ranch up. And she wanted to move away? His father and Uncle were buried up on the hill. Jack refused to even entertain the thought of moving away from the home his father had sacrificed his own life for.
"What if those rustlers come back? You might have stopped them last time, but they'll be back," his mother sounded defeated. "You're a smart boy, Jack. You could live a great life away from ranching. You read all the time, and I know that imagination of yours can be wild sometimes. Make something of that. You could become a famous author, you know."
"I'm not giving all this up, Ma," Jack said, anger lacing his voice. "You can't give up either. Do you think that's what Pa would want you to do?"
"You're not him, Jack," his mother slowly sat up. Jack could see a storm of emotions written all over his mother's face. "You'll never be your father. Get away from this life. Please don't get caught up trying to live the life he had. It's not what he wanted for you."
"What he wanted was for me to run this ranch," Jack crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm going to do that."
"And how long do you think you can keep this place running?" his mother shot back.
He let his emotions take over. Almost against his will, he walked away from the bed and left the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and he went to his own bedroom. Rufus lay on the rug. The dog whined quietly as Jack walked over to lie on his bed. Jack didn't even bother lighting the lantern in his room. The light of the moon filtered through the window, providing more than enough light.
Rufus got up to walk over and jump up to put his forepaws on the bed. He looked at Jack, almost questioning why the young Marston was upset.
"What am I supposed to do, boy?" Jack asked the dog as if it had all the answers.
Rufus whined again before returning to his spot on the rug. Jack stared up at the ceiling and wondered how he was going to make everything work. He tried to think of what his father would do. Only Jack had no idea what his father would do. Would his father ask someone for help? Jack had a fleeting thought that his father would. The only problem was Jack did not know too many people capable of helping him.