A Different Way
A Red Dead Redemption story…
What if John Marston hadn't left the barn? What if he ran like a cowardly dog, with his tail between his legs, just to live to fight another day for his family?...
"Come out, John! We know you're in there." Yelled Agent Edgar Ross, standing outside of a fair sized barn with an armada of about thirty armed men and horses. This was it, it seemed. John Marston's family was riding out to Black Water, where they would be safe, but it wasn't enough. He needed to know that they would be safe. He needed to keep his promise to his son. John Marston did not go back on his promises, not even on death's doorstep. He reached for his belt, snatching a stick of dynamite and lighting it with his last match.
He lit the fuse and watched it burn down, just enough, as if he was a soldier cooking a grenade. He ran to the window and tossed the stick of dynamite, at the same time whistling for his horse. The dynamite rolled to a stop at the feet of Edgar Ross, the man who was supposed to shoot him dead. It seemed fate had a different take on things, for it wasn't John Marston's day to die. Marston grabbed the horn of the saddle that rested upon his horse's back, placing his left foot in the Stirrup and then hoisting himself onto the saddle. Just as the stick of dynamite detonated, killing almost the entire platoon of soldiers, Marston rode out of the back of the barn, headed for Black Water.
The ride was short and sweet, riding his beautiful black stallion all the way from his former ranch to the town of Black Water. He had to be quick, for the remaining military would surely be on his tail. He had to pick up his family, and leave, as quickly as possible.
Now, John wasn't stupid. He knew that they'd look for his horse, and that he'd go towards one of the bigger towns, where they'd think he'd hide, so he had a plan. As soon as he entered Black Water, he hitched his horse and ran over to the Large, four-horse drawn Carriage. It could easily fit his family inside. Not wanting to have any more law on his tail, he paid the driver a hefty sum of one hundred and fifty dollars, with the promise that he would return it as soon as he took his family to safety, which was a lie.
He drove to the local pub, where he saw his son and wife standing worried. He stopped the stagecoach and beckoned for them to get in.
"Abigail, Jack, get in!" John yelled. Without question, both of then jumped in, and John whipped the reigns, causing all four of the horses to get to running, in the direction of the MacFarlane Ranch. He had allies there, allies that could help.