The moment that stupid bounty hunter mounted and took for Chuparosa, he was all she could think about. She wanted to forget, wanted to stop yearning for something she could never have. But come months later and no progress, Bonnie MacFarlane knew she had to come clean. One shot. (John x Bonnie)

"Done for the day, Miss MacFarlane?" one of the ranch hands called out to her as they entered the barn. Bonnie MacFarlane, hooking the pitch forks up on the wall, turned to see him. Her twenty-seven year old body was tired, and her mind and heart were weary alike. But, from afar, you could never tell.

"Sure am, Amos. Mind closing up the barn when you leave?" she asked as she dusted off her pants and headed out of the barn in the direction of the house.

Things had gone back to the way they were before the excitement of John Marston came and left as fast as it had arrived. That man had taken Bonnie like a storm, oblivious as he stole her heart in just one light spirited chuckle. He never read the urges in between the lines of her dry sarcasm and seemingly reluctant offers of help. He was a married man, not interested in the company of any other woman. Neither whore nor wholesome rancher was going to come between this outlaw and his wife. Of this, Bonnie was certain, so she resorted to silencing her affections for him. But it grew and grew, like an unstoppable weed and in time, she found herself in painful love with him. So very painful.

Long after John took for Mexico, Bonnie found herself drowning in thoughts of him and lust for him, unable contain it. She'd never let it show when she was proudly maintaining the ranch, but within the four walls of her own bedroom, she would sit at the edge of her bed, contemplating what she could possibly do about this. These feelings, so strong and overwhelming, simply weren't going away. No matter what Bonnie told herself, she couldn't seem to shake this man's hold on her. Scolding herself didn't work, trying to hate him didn't work. Nothing seemed to work and eventually, all Bonnie wanted was to love him with limitless and undying passion. Was it fair that he lived on, with his wife and son, oblivious to this, while she laid in bed at night, his bearded face the only thought on her mind?

Drew MacFarlane may have been old - but he wasn't blind. He knew the moment his daughter's eye caught onto John when he sauntered into New Austin. She had saved his life after all, she must have seen something in him. As time progressed, Drew could see Bonnie falling for John, harder and harder with each interaction. So deep into the feelings she entertained, that Drew had to give her talk.

"That man's got a wife and son out east, you know that. Now, I don't know what the hell has gotten into you, but you leave well enough alone. Marston's got problems of his own and he don't need you addin' to them."

However, nothing anything her father could growl stopped her. Just the mention of "Marston" made her heart flutter in her chest and that was when she knew - she knew it was time to come clean.

Hitching up the horses to the wagon that was filled with stock, that Bonnie would use as her excuse for visiting Beecher's Hope, she took her seat on the wagon, willing the horses to go. She rode off along the trails of New Austin, heading for West Elizabeth, with Drew calling after her; "Bonnie, I hope you know what you're gettin' yourself into!"

And she did. She had thought this through, explored the ins and outs of it. John deserved to know. And Bonnie deserved to get it off her chest. Drowning in this heavy yearning and passion was only weighing her down. She didn't plan on dying alone, like her father would. If she were ever to feel for another man, what she felt for John, she needed to confess. Wife or not, it was going to be said.

She started down the trail, entering the gates of Beecher's Hope, and there he was. Just as handsome as that midday by the stable after the barn fire, his weathered hat sitting in it's place, atop his head.

The creaking of the old and poorly constructed wagon gained his attention and his lips grew into a full smile at the sight of one of the strongest women he knew.

"Miss MacFarlane!" he called out to her, pausing his work and striding over to the parked wagon. "This sure is a pleasant surprise. What brings you to my humble ranch?" he chuckled, watching her as she descended from the wagon and advanced towards him, having it take all she had not to run to him and wrap her arms around him in an embrace.

"I heard folks over in West Elizabeth were havin' a poor season," she lied, gesturing to the wagon full with stock. "Thought you might need some help."

"Aw, well, Miss MacFarlane, that's mighty kind of you," John said admirably. "But our seasons been gettin' on just fine." He glanced around, unsure what to say about Bonnie's shockingly compassionate gesture. His eyes crawled onto her face and he couldn't help but think her beauty had only matured from the last time he had seen her. He kept those thoughts to himself.

"Why don't you come in?" he offered, leading her towards the house and up the veranda. "You remember my wife, don't you?"

Bonnie swallowed heavily. Of course, she remembered her. That brunette mess who cradled John's heart in her hands, able to manipulate him at any pinch or squeeze. How could she forget? "Sure," she replied weakly, following John into the house.

After a much unwanted visit with the Marstons, Bonnie mentioned that she should be getting back. The sky wasn't getting and lighter and Drew must have been impatiently anticipating her return. Even if it were only to give her a stern "I told you so".

John accompanied Bonnie out, as her heart thumped loudly in her chest, beads of sweat collecting on her brow. John's arm brushed against hers as they made their way down the front steps, causing her stomach to jump inside her. It was time. This was it.

"I didn't come here to sell you stock, John," she said abruptly, the two of them along the side of the house, out of eyeshot and earshot of the famous Abigail.

John eyed her from corner of his eyes, knowing that something had been strange about her unannounced visit. Bonnie wasn't stupid, he knew that. Something was up, he could read it on her face the entire time they were in the house. "What's goin' on, Bonnie?"

Bonnie's hands trembled, her nerves almost paralyzing her. Her bottom lip began to quiver, but she knew she couldn't back out now. Never before had she felt so barricaded by her own body. "I've been feelin'…It's just…the last few months have found me in a hard place."

"Well, we all go through some bad times."

"I love you, John Marston."

John's eyes widened, his top lip slightly parted from his bottom. He glared at her from the corner of his eyes. "What?" his voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

"I do. I've loved you ever since you left for Mexico, all that time ago. But you were married and had a son, and you were a bounty hunter from the east. I couldn't just tell you how I felt. Y'know, my father told me to leave well enough alone. And I did. But I never stopped lovin' you, John."

John remained silent. Many seconds passed and he still gave no response. Soon, the seconds dragged on and silence still hung in the air like a stale stench.

"Would you at least say somethin', John?" she pleaded, tears collecting in her eyes, threatening to spill over and run down her cheeks.

"Wh-," he fumbled with his words, looking away from her. He couldn't say he was all too shocked that she felt something for him but he would have never of dreamt it being to this extent. And he would have never of thought she would come out in confession. "Why are you telling me this? Why now?"

"It's been months, John. I've only fallen deeper…I needed to come clean with you. I thought you deserved to know."

John silently shook his head in disbelief, uneasily shifting his weight from foot to foot, reaching to the back of his neck and itching it. What was he supposed to say to that? What was he supposed to do, with his wife on the other side of the wall they were standing next to, and his cherished friend confessing her love to his face?

"Miss MacFarlane, I-"

"Bonnie," she bitterly corrected him, knowing the outcome wouldn't be in her favour if he started by addressing her so formally. Internally, she scolded herself. What was she expecting? For the infamous John Marston, married and with a son, to drop his family and ranch in the blink of an eye to run away with her? Such thoughts were but wishful thinking.

"Bonnie," he corrected himself on her demand, reaching out to take hold of her hand, gaining her eye contact. "You are one of the strongest women I know. You can pull the weight that any man can. And I would be lyin' if I said your looks ain't caught my eye a time or two. Any man should consider himself one lucky bastard to have you," he paused, noting the grim smile becoming of Bonnie's lips. "But I'm a married man. You said it yourself. I love my wife and my son…I think you know I can't just throw that away." These words stung Bonnie, sucking the insides of her cheek as John spoke. "Maybe if things were different and I were younger. Hell, you're at least ten years younger than me. You have the chance to marry the right man. And I ain't him."

Heaving a heavy breath, Bonnie nodded, accepting what was said. She knew John was right - he was usually always right, wasn't he? She had to look away, watching his eyes with her own hurt too much, knowing that he would never feel the same passion for her that she felt for him.

She took a step back, trying to distance herself but suddenly, there were arms around her and lips finding their way to hers. Their lips connected, Bonnie finally tasting this cowboy who liked to ranch but was better at being an outlaw. His beard brushed against her cheeks and, if just to sustain the moment, John's hand held the back of Bonnie's neck. This was his only chance to do this, it was going to last for as long as he willed.

Finally, pulling away, all John could do was nod to her. "Take care of yourself, Miss MacFarlane."

xxx

"Public Enemy Shot Down at His Home in Beecher's Hope". The same headline was slapped on the front page of the newspaper, all over West Elizabeth and New Austin. The news travelled from solid black print to mere gossip that flouted out of folk's lips, days after. Bonnie would have never imagined it, she wouldn't even believe it. Not at first.

"You heard they shot down that Marston fella? I always thought he was a strange character." The words sent a chill through Bonnie's body, causing her to freeze on the spot. Her tongue wouldn't move and her lips wouldn't form the words. No, no, John Marston could not be dead.

"What did you just say?" she asked the ranch hand to repeat himself, her voice a desperate plead.

"That bounty hunter that was here a while back…Marston was his name. Newspaper says they got him. Haven't you heard?"

A lump formed in Bonnie's throat as her nerves clawed at her gut, causing her hands to tremble. "Excuse me," she muttered, barely audible before sprinting to the stable, mounting their best horse and racing away from MacFarlane's Ranch, headed for Beecher's Hope. This action was on impulse and would surely be heavily criticised by Drew but, to that, Bonnie gave no care. She had to know. It couldn't be true, it couldn't. John was one of the strongest and keenest men she knew - no way in hell would he ever leave the world in such a form as a gun shot. It just seemed to Bonnie that the John Marston was too smart to get himself killed like that.

Pulling up on the trail leading to Beecher's Hope, Bonnie hoped to see John's figure somewhere amongst the field and barn, turning to see her and greet her with one of his bold smiles. But, just as she feared, there was no sign of him. Or anyone for that matter. She figured his wife would be in the house but she saw no sign of his son, Jack, or that man he called Uncle.

Gingerly, she hitched her horse outside before slowly stepping up the veranda and firmly knocking on the front door. Her nerves gnawed away at her gut as she awaited a response. She contemplated turning back after several moments of no response - did she really want to speak to Abigail again? And, if John really was dead, was she really ready to accept it?

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as she heard loud shuffling from the other side of the door, and what sounded like the cocking of a gun. Slowly the door creaked open, revealing the timid and trembling likeliness of Jack Marston, John's son, who's arm was slightly elevated and baring a revolver. Being the new man of the house was a chore for this fifteen year old who would now forever live in the shadow of his deceased father.

"Miss MacFarlane," Jack's face grew slightly shocked to see her, instantly lowering his gun when he recognized her. "We have to be careful…you know with what's happened and all. That's why you're here, ain't it?"

"So it is true," Bonnie's words fell from her lips, monotone and heavy. She couldn't believe it…she just couldn't believe it. Of all the men to die young, she never expected John Marston to be one of them. Even with his evident trigger itch and dangerous taste of lifestyle.

"It is," Jack confirmed, his own bottom lip beginning to quiver. It was too soon to talk about this, too soon to explain. He was still trying to sort out his emotions and his mother wasn't in a much better state. And so, he told Bonnie the only bit of information he could offer at that time. "His grave is at the top of that hill yonder…if you'd want to give your goodbyes."

All Bonnie could do was offer the young boy a nod and turn away from him, hiding the tears that were collecting in her eyes. Descending back down the veranda and making her way to the clearly marked grave atop the slope at Beecher's Hope, Bonnie was forced to accept that the man she had been so painfully in love with all this time was dead. Of course, she knew that this wouldn't directly affect her as much as it would Abigail or Jack, but she simply could not help the wrenching feeling that was grabbing at her chest.

Kneeling down in front of his grave, she sank her teeth into the flesh of her bottom lip, her teeth clenched as her tears finally overflowed and dripped onto the dirt of John's grave.

Never again would she hear his light hearted chuckles float on the air between them nor his voice when it grew into a yell as they rode together. She would not engage in playfully sarcastic conversation with him ever again, nor would she ever watch his beady eyes while he worked a firearm with perfect expertise. Her lips still remembered the way that John's felt, a few weeks back. His shallow breath mingling with hers, was a scent she would surely never forget.

However, this now meant that Bonnie would no longer have to torment herself with those endless yearnings. If John was no longer of the living, she could be content with the idea that there was simply nothing more she could do to be with him. She would never again be plagued by the idea of his wife who he claimed to love so much. She would not be tempted to return to him, just to quench her parched desire. This was the end of whatever John and Bonnie could ever be.

And as she left Beecher's Hope that day, with a heavy heart and swollen eyes, one thing was for certain. Bonnie MacFarlane was finally clean.