John Marston stretched out as he awoke to an argument. He took a second to assess himself and remember where he was residing. He was in the Blackwater Hotel and was wearing his trusty duster coat over his traditional gear. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, extremely groggy. He began to listen in on the fighting downstairs.
"We want that man and we want him now! Back away or face charges!" a voice said, possibly an officer of the law.
"I'm not movin'! You pigs don't know who you're after! I-" the voice was cut off by the sound of wood breaking.
John realized who they wanted. Him. But why? He never caused any trouble. He had just finally killed Dutch, and had only stopped in Blackwater due to the darkness of the night. He'd have never made it to Beecher's Hope last night. A screech rang out from outside of his door as a whore was tossed down the stairs. John put his hand on his trusty Cattleman, not ready to go down without a fight. He crouched to the right side of the door just as it was kicked open. He shot the officer in the head, and more began flowing up the stairs. Another brave lawman dashed through the door and was shot in the chest. But not by Marston. John peeked around the door and saw two outlaws swarm into the building. They didn't care about Marston, they were just looking for a few easy kills.
A bullet tore through another officer's shoulder and he shrieked in pain. John used this distraction as a time to escape. He jumped out onto the fire escape and began to run down the stairs. He wasn't ready to give up before seeing his family, even if it meant him risking his life.
He darted between buildings and dodged screaming civilians as he made his way to his trusty horse.
He was only half way to the church when he heard the maniacal laughter of the outlaws. They sped past him on their new stolen horses, shooting their guns into the air. Bullets shot by more lawmen tore through their necks and a sickening gurgling noise followed. John would never make it to Beecher's Hope in time. He thought his idea through. It was a bad one, obviously. He'd just lead the law to his family, and this time Jack and Abigail wouldn't even have the option to be set free.
John jumped off his horse and dashed into the church, not ready to give up. He heard the galloping of horses and shouts of "He's in there!" and "The church! The church!"
Oh bury me not,
He hid behind one of the pews and waited for the gunshots.
On the lone prairie,
Lawmen burst through the doors of the chapel.
Where the coyotes wail,
John began to shoot at the already alert lawmen.
And the wind blows free,
He took three down and loaded more bullets into his revolver.
And when I die don't bury me,
He shot at two and missed terribly.
Beneath the western sky on the lone prairie.
He reached for his Evan's Repeater and used it to take out four more officers.
Oh bury me not, on the lone prairie,
John fired to more shots and both landed, two more lawmen dropped.
These words came soft, and painfully.
By now the U.S. Army had arrived.
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay,
John took some of them out before he saw the bastard that did this to him, Edgar Ross, hitch his horse by the chapel and causally stroll over to the door.
On his dying bed at the break of day.
Edgar said something to one of the soldiers, but John couldn't hear it over the gunfire. He blindly fired into the mass of soldiers swarming into the church.
But we buried him there on the lone prairie,
John didn't care about killing the soldiers. He just wanted to get Ross.
Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind blows free,
He shot at more soldiers, hoping to thin them out so Edgar would be an easier target.
In a shallow grave, no one to grieve,
They just kept coming and John was running out of ammo.
Beneath the western sky, on the lone prairie
He fired two more shots and his repeater was useless. No ammunition.
Oh bury me not, on the lone prairie,
He pulled out his Cattleman and prepared for his final moments.
These words came soft, and painfully,
He took a deep breath.
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay,
He slowly stood up.
On his dying bed at the break of day.
"For Abigail!" he roared as he used his last bullets aiming at Edgar. He hit him in the legs and his sworn enemy collapsed on the ground, still breathing. Bullets ripped and tore through John's body. No sound was made. No shrieks of pain. John collapsed. He took his last breaths on the rough wood floor of the chapel.
On his dying bed…..
John Marston was dead.
At the break of day.