John Marston awakes one morning at his ranch to find that his daughter, who had died in 1906, is very much alive. To add to this strange event, none of the other family members have any recollection of her passing. How can John make sense of this? What kind of drastic change will this have on his life?

In three missions in RDR, John mentions his daughter that died some years past. Her name is not given or where she is buried. Red Dead Wiki's article on her is simply titled "Marston Daughter". The following is my interpretation of what John's daughter would have been like.

She was four when she died. Too young to have experienced life, yet too old to go without the painful knowledge that her life would come to an early end. "Just a simple flu," the doctors had told me, smug and arrogant. Even when I rode to Blackwater in the middle of the night, pounded on the doctor's door, pleading with him to help my daughter, they claimed there was nothing they could do. Nothing could save my little girl.

I was not shocked when she died. In fact, it was alarming how accepting I was of it. I let the rest of the family deal with the body and the burial. As far as I was concerned, I wanted nothing to do with her death, and nothing to do with her memory. It pained me too much that I couldn't do anything to help her. I was her father - fathers are supposed to care for their children and protect them. I failed at that, and the grieving process would be far too brutal to endure. I knew if I sat and dwelled on my failure and her death, I would only suffer. So, I gave myself a mental anaesthetic. I didn't think about it, I didn't associate with it. I simply blocked it out and kept myself busy. And it had worked well. For five years, I kept it together. And then she showed up.

It was the morning of April 26th, 1911. Glad to be home from my harassment from the government, I cracked my eyes open slowly to see that sunlight was streaming into my bedroom. Slowly, I peeked over at my wife, Abigail, still sound asleep. The clock on the wall read 5:35. I would have to get up in less than a half an hour. I could rest my eyes until then. I just did that.

"Daddy, wake up!" a voice caused me to stir from my sleep. With my eyes still shut, I reached out beside me to see if Abigail was still in bed - she was not, which meant I had slept much longer than I was supposed to.

"Who's there?" I muttered groggily, trying to bring myself to state of alertness.

The voice giggled, in a familiar childish way, and continued. "Its me!"

"Who's me?" I asked, wondering if Jack was playing a joke on me.

"Sadie," the voice giggled, causing my eyes to snap open and search the room. Finally, my eyes settled on the young girl standing at the door way, dressed in a long patterned dress with her long auburn hair pulled into a braid. This was not just any girl. This was my girl.

"Sadie," I spoke her name softly. I had not spoken her name in five years. I had not seen her, not thought of her. I had hidden every picture of her and blocked her very entity from my mind. But what was I to do now, that she was standing before me, calling me 'Daddy'?

Although I could ask her any other question, the one that came from my lips was, "Where's your mother?"

"In the kitchen. She made breakfast and she's mad you ain't up yet."

Although I heard her voice and saw her lips move, I could not grasp her words. I was perplexed that Sadie, my daughter who had been dead for five years, was standing before me, very much alive. She appeared much older now, yet she sounded almost the same. All I could do was stare at her until she happily scampered off, out my room.

After rising from bed and dressing myself, I stalked into the dinning area where Abigail, Jack, and Sadie were seated and eating.

"John," Abigail started, the tone in her voice warning that she was not in the best of moods. "Sit down and eat, would you? This ain't like you to sleep in this late."

I managed to mutter a "sorry" before sitting at the table and silently digging into the food that Abigail had made.

I wasn't sure who to look at; Sadie, who had suddenly shown up, alive, after five years, or my wife and my son who didn't seem alarmed at all. I waited until after breakfast to approach Abigail.

"What do you mean, why is she here? She lives here!" is what she exploded with when I had asked her about it.

"I mean now. What is she doing here now?"

While I was adamantly concerned, Abigail glared at me as if I had gone mad. And by the looks of things, she was not going to help me figure this out.

"John, are you feelin' alright?"

"Just fine," I began to swoosh my previous comments under the rug. "Where's Uncle at?"

"Who?" the puzzled look returned to Abigail's face.

"Uncle. Where is that ol' clown?"

"I don't know what yer talkin' 'bout," she waved her hand dismissively as she began to walk towards the back door. "But I do know that you better get goin'."

"Where?"

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," she cursed with a chuckle. "Have you got amnesia, John? You promised the children you'd take them into Blackwater today."

Slightly alarmed, I looked at my wife from the corner of my eyes. "I did?"

Abigail merely laughed and hit me lightly in the arm. "Yes! For Sadie's birthday."

"Sadie's birthday?"

"Uh-huh."

"How old is she?"

"John! Are you tellin' me you don't remember your own daughter's age?"

"How old is Sadie?" I was desperate to know.

"Nine," she answered, rolling her eyes. The tone in her voice and the look on her face, told me I had better get outside and fulfill this promise I had apparently made.

When I made my way out to the barn to hitch the horses to the wagon, Jack and Sadie were standing near the entrance.

"You two ready?" I asked, still slightly hesitant while opening the barn. How could Jack act so natural around her? How could Abigail dismiss her presence? Did neither of them remember that Sadie had died? And what about Uncle?

"Can I sit on the back, Pa?" Jack piped up as I was hitching the horses. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it was Jack's eagerness - and ignorance. The boy was always in such a rush to grow up that he rarely took the time to be cautious.

"Sorry, son," I replied as I led the horses out of the barn. "I told you before, it ain't safe for you to be sittin' on the back like that."

"But I see people ride by like that all the time! Can't I just once?"

"No is no, Jack," I was beginning to get aggravated with him.

"But what about Sadie? She's too big to sit on my lap. And far too heavy."

"Hey!" Sadie piped up, trying to defend herself. "I am not heavy!"

"Are to!" Jack retorted back.

"Are not!"

"Are to!"

"Cow face!"

"Horse breath!"

"Shit head!"

"Enough! Both of you!" I finally shouted, having had enough of their squabbling. When Sadie was younger, her and Jack would have small sibling fights but nothing to the extent of what I had just seen. And when Sadie learn to talk with such vulgar? All of this was too much to handle for just once morning. I was still trying to sort out Sadie's sudden appearance.

"Jack, you can ride in the back," I gave into his pleading, tossing him a line of rope to tie to the wagon, if the ride got bumpy, he could hold onto it to prevent himself from falling off. "Sadie, you'll ride up with me."

I watched as my daughter scurried up the steps to the wagon and seated herself beside me, folding her hands in her lap. For most of the ride, there was silence. I wanted to sort out my thoughts before I began to talk to Sadie. Was she even real? Was any of this real? Perhaps it was a dream, one that I couldn't awaken from. Or perhaps the past five years were a dream. I had no clue, but as the day progressed, it grew more bizarre.

However, I thought back to what Abigail had said when I asked about Uncle. She appeared to have no idea who he was. It was then when it dawned on me that the only reason we had Uncle come to live with us was because Sadie had died. He was an old friend of mine, and I had written him a letter, telling him we needed help around the ranch. The truth was I couldn't stand to see Sadie's room empty. Realizing that, brought on many more questions. Had my life rearranged itself as if Sadie had never died?

As we were approaching Blackwater, Sadie spoke for the first time during the whole trip. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Sorry for what?" I asked, my voice wobbly. It was taking all that I had now, not to grab her and hold her in my arms, to tell her I was so happy she was alive. Yet, I forced myself to remain composed and to keep my upper lip straight.

"Fighting with Jack."

"That's alright, honey," I said, instantly forgiving her, trying to keep my voice solid. "So you're nine now?"

"Yep!"

"How do you like it?"

"Ain't much different than being eight," she merely shrugged. She had grown into such a beautiful girl, witty and keen.

Once we had parked the wagon near the docks at Blackwater, I helped Sadie down from the wagon then stalked around the back to get Jack.

"I can do it myself, Pa!" he retorted when I had tried to help him. That was Jack, alright. Always wanting to show that he didn't need my help anymore, with him being fifteen and all.

"So, where we headed?" I asked my children once were upon the brick roads of Blackwater.

"Mama said we could get candy," Sadie said, slowly slipping her tiny hand into mine. The feel of her warm touch provoked tears in my eyes that I fought hard to hold back. "Daddy, you're squeezin' too tight!" she eventually exclaimed, going to pull her hand away. I hadn't realized how strong my grasp was becoming.

"Sorry," I instantly loosened my grip but still made sure her hand was linked firmly with mine.

"Lets go!" Jack exclaimed, striding in front of us, eager to walk through these civilized streets. The streets on which I took orders from Edgar Ross, the streets on which I helped a deranged professor, and was shot at by my oldest friend.

"Calm down, Jack. Walk with us," I called to him, feeling uneasy about him walking ahead of us.

"But I-,"

"Jack," the tone in my voice was a warning in itself.

Bitterly, he obeyed, but not until he had given me the stink eye and made a point of folding his arms tightly.

Once we had arrived at the general store, I let my children free to chose their candy while I waited silently near the till. The store owner gave me a once over with his eyes before he decided I wasn't dangerous. Whenever I took a trip into Blackwater, I constantly had the folks giving me cautious glances and the police made a point of placing their hands on their pistols when I passed by. One of the many factors one had to deal with, being an outlaw in their earlier years.

Once Jack and Sadie had picked out their sweets of choice and I had chosen a new pair of boots as my current ones were next to useless, I paid for our purchases and led the children out of the store.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Sadie cheered with her mouth full.

"Yeah, thanks, Pa," Jack added.

"You're welcome," I replied, not being able to stop the smile that was becoming of my lips. I had been acting much unlike myself since Sadie's sudden appearance. I simply couldn't help myself. However, it frightened me slightly that I was not in control of my emotions, as I always made sure I was.

Arriving back at Beecher's Hope, I gave my children both a tight hug before watching them both scamper into the house. I, however, did not follow in after them for quite some time. After unhitching the horses from the wagon and closing up the barn, I leaned against the barn wall as I smoked and contemplated what I was to do next. Sadie couldn't possibly be a figment of my imagination - everyone else saw her too. And it was highly unlikely that I was dreaming - what kind of dream felt this real? Whatever it was, it couldn't possibly real. There must have been an explanation for this! That is when I decided I would see an old friend of mine - a friend who would believe me and maybe even be able to help me.

The sky had darkened when I finally went into the house, feeling slightly better than earlier. Abigail had dinner ready for us and was already setting it out on the table as I walked in.

"I see you have some poisonin' ready for us," I teased her.

"Yes, I do," she replied, grinning at me. "I worked all day on it so it better work."

Laughing, I followed her into the kitchen where she placed the pots and utensils she was not using into the sink. Slowly coming up behind her, I kissed the back of her neck and caressed her shoulders gently.

"John," she laughed softly, not expecting my affection. "It's dinner time. The children are waiting."

"That don't mean I can't kiss my lovely wife."

She turned around to face me and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "That better last you the rest of the night," she smiled at me, then proceeded to leave the kitchen.

"I don't think it will," I continued teasing her as I followed her out of the kitchen again.

Shortly after dinner, slumber followed, and each member of the house began to retreat to their room. Promising Abigail I would be right with her, I made my way to Sadie's room, which felt odd considering it had been Uncle's for five years, and knocked softly on the door before opening it. Inside, I found the room furnished as it had been five years ago, with Sadie in bed, buried under her blankets.

"You need me to tuck you in?" I asked,

Sadie gave me a slightly strange look which alarmed me. Did I not do that anymore? At what age do children stop wanting to be tucked in? Frantically, I racked my brain for the time when Jack didn't want tuck ins or bed time stories. The last time I had seen Sadie alive, she was four. How much had changed since then? And how could I have missed it all?

"No. But you can if you want to," she finally said. And I did want to. Kneeling to her level, I took hold of the blankets and tucked them under her body so they were snug.

"Thank you, Daddy," she said, even though I could tell she found it strange.

"Sleep tight, Sadie," I murmured softly as I pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving the room and closing the door behind me.

Taking off my own clothes and settling into bed beside Abigail, I sighed deeply in the darkness of our room.

"You been actin' strange today," her voice flouted on the air between us. "Is somethin' botherin' you, John?"

"Nothin' at all," I lied.

"Sure don't seem like nothin'," Abigail replied, finally turning to face me in the bed. Her face held a look of concern.

"It's nothin', darlin'. I promise you." I really hated lying to her like that, but if I even began to explain this to her, she would instantly brand me as insane.

"If you say so." I could tell she was unsatisfied with my answers but they would have to do for now. Until I figured out what had happened how I could explain this all to her.

Thank you for reading, please R&R! The next chapter will come out shortly so make sure to look out for it!