Inhale – John sucked in the last breath of West Elizabeth, the painstaking memories of the months behind him and pushed open the reluctant barn door.

Exhale – the bittersweet smile Abilgal wore as she watched him ride out every morning, the smile that prayed for his return.

Jack's eyes that held a spark of promise and hope, dotted with irises full of slight distrust that rarely grew wild and large.

The shaking of Abigals hand when she married him and the shaking of her hand as she rode away from Dutch's gang with her new family all seemed to similar to distinguish now.

Jack's laugh and his quiet anger blurred into an echo as the sound of Beechers Hope drowned his senses.

Precious seconds passed as an old outlaw prayed for forgiveness in utter silence.

"We ain't here to kill you, Mr. Marston." Edgar Ross stood at the back of a bunch of soldiers, his nice black suit visible in the dusty land. "Guns down boys, get on your horses and ride on back now."

John opened his eyes, squinting into the midday sun. Baffled, relieved. His eyes spoke of his suspicions.
"Well what the hell was all that shootin' for?!"
Edgar Ross chuckled into the smoke of his cigar.
"We wanted to know if you had it in you," the chuckled broke into laughter and John grew anxious, "and you sure as shit do."
"And what is it that I have in me, Ross?" He questioned, his hand hesitantly held above his gun. His eyes burned into the agents.

"Join us, Mr. Marston," Edgar spoke with a light tone now, despite the serious look that lingered on his face.
John raised an eyebrow and began to laugh. Relief and fear swam in his head and his heart. "Right, of course, what else?" He scratched his beard.
"Shall we go inside, John?"

"No if, well if you're bein' straight with and this ain't one of your games I need to go tell my family."
"I told you, Mr. Marston, no one's playing games with you, our game is now over," Ross threw his cigar to the dirt and continued, wearing a big fat grin, "so let me put this simply for you. I got a message just the other day, right about two days after you killed Dutch."
John shifted uncomfortably. Still holding Ross' gaze.
"So I got this message from a Leigh Johnson, and you know what he said?" Edgar began chuckling again, that chuckle held too many sinister reasons behind it to ever be a real sign of happiness, "You know what he said, John?"
John pursed his lips and bit back the urge to shoot the smug bastard while he had the chance.
Ross caught his breath, "Well, well anyway, he said he knew that you were next and that I would be a fool to get rid of you, John Marston, he said that I should offer you a place as a Marshall."
It was John's turn to laugh, "No thank you,"
"And I knew you'd say that. So, Mr. Marston. So I welcome you to the alternative to the alternative; you work with your buddy Mr. Johnson and you learn everything you can from him for a month. After that you have two options, you can work alongside him or you can hunt down some more bounties for a further two years."
"Does that mean I would be working with you?" John tucked his left leg behind his right, and started to think.
"No no," he scoffed, "in fact you may never see me again."
"Thank the Lord for that,"
"What's it gonna be, Mr. Marston?"
"Bounty Huntin'...is this even allowed, Mr. Ross?"
"If Wyatt Earp can become part of the law why can't you?"
The familiar motor car chugged down the path towards Beechers Hope, Archer driving.
Edgar Ross began to walk towards John and stopped a few feet away from him as the car pulled in behind him.
"Your past has now been erased. Welcome to civilization, , we're so pleased to have you."