A/N: Each chapter will be a brief origin story on various gang members and their inclusion into the gang. I will try to be as canon as possible but I have taken some creative liberties. Correct me if I make any glaring mistakes and feel free to suggest new gang members, as I only have John and a few others written at this point. I don't foresee myself writing a chapter on EACH character in the gang since I hate some of them (ahem, Micah), but we shall see!
1. John
"I was born, a six-gun in my hand."
1885
"My God, that's a child up there."
Arthur Morgan was determined to keep walking. Cities like this made him real nervous. Folk everywhere, pressing in on him, the air smelling like smoke and horse shit and sweat. He felt more irritable than usual and so he jerked away from Dutch's steadying hand and said, "Let's keep walkin'."
"Arthur, look." Dutch grabbed at his shoulder again, more firmly this time.
Arthur sighed and cast his eyes towards the gallows. It was the last place him and Dutch needed to be near, he thought. Lawmen everywhere, that noose ready and waiting.
And also waiting was, indeed, a kid-no more than thirteen, maybe younger. It was hard to tell as caked in filth as he was.
"Scrawny little bastard," Arthur said. "A shame, to be sure. Let's go, Dutch. Hosea is waitin'-"
"My boy, I know I've raised you better than this." Dutch leveled his gaze with Arthur's, a mournful weight behind it.
Arthur blew out a quick sigh, throwing his hands up before realizing too much movement would only draw attention. "You raised me to make myself scarce when there was hangin' men about. Just what the hell do you expect us to do for the kid? He made his bed, as far as I'm concerned, and-"
"And what if I took the same cavalier attitude about you-if you were up there?"
Arthur wasn't sure what cavalier actually meant, but he'd gotten pretty good at guessing the meaning behind Dutch's fancy words. So he just shrugged. "I'd say to leave me if I was dumb enough to get caught. Now, we gotta move."
"I won't leave a child to die, Arthur. They say we live savagely but this… this is what's savage." Dutch slipped into the gathering crowd before Arthur could catch him, leaving the younger man to curse and follow after him.
Up on the gallows, the boy in handcuffs squirmed violently in the hands of the lawmen. He kicked and bit, put up a hell of a fight, Arthur had to admit. He even threw out a few snarled curses-go to hell, you bastards, I hope you all rot, and so forth-curses that would have been a bit more threatening had his voice not been cracking with adolescence and nerves every other word.
"This one's got some fire in him," Dutch said when Arthur had finally pushed his way back to the older man's side.
"That's trouble," Arthur replied.
A fancy man in a suit stepped forward, taking a few nervous steps away from the struggling kid. He cleared his throat, regarded a piece of parchment that shook like mad between his hands, and began reading the charges.
Some of them, Arthur had never even heard of. Or maybe he'd heard of them, hell even committed them, but he couldn't make heads nor tails of the fancy legal talk. He did pick out the most impressive ones, though: theft and murder.
"This kid's bad news, Dutch," Arthur whispered, hooking his thumbs in his gun belt. His eyes slid over the crowd and back to the gallows again. Fifteen lawmen total.
"He's just a lost soul, my boy. Not so very different than you, if you'll remember."
Arthur sighed. "You sure about this?"
"Very." Dutch smiled pleasantly as he regarded the scene on the gallows. He appeared as innocent and docile as a man watching the sun rise.
Arthur, in comparison, looked like he was watching the path of an oncoming monsoon.
"...and has been sentenced to hang until dead," the fancy man said. He cleared his throat again, a nervous fluttery sound. Then he glanced over at the kid, who had finally stopped struggling. "Jonathan Marston, do you have any last words?"
"Yeah," the kid said. "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!"
A horrified, collective gasp welled up from the women in the crowd.
The fancy man simply blinked a few times, pausing to mop sweat from his brow. "Ah, well, I-"
"Thank you, Mr. Rose. We will take it from here," the sheriff said, stepping forward. "Put the noose around his neck, boys."
Two lawmen hauled the kid up by the elbows, his feet kicking wildly.
"A fighter until the end," Dutch murmured. "A valuable trait."
"Or a stupid one." But Arthur didn't pause to hear Dutch's inevitable disapproving response. He started moving up, closer to the gallows and the lawmen and the dirty, rotten kid he was about to save.
"Stop!" Arthur heard Dutch shout, but he knew Dutch wasn't speaking to him. "Stop this madness at once! That is a child!"
And suddenly, every pair of eyes nearby were drawn away from the squirming boy.
"Sir, this child has killed someone! Ruined many homes. Would you have him be exempt from justice simply because of his age?" Mr. Rose asked, regaining some semblance of composure.
"Justice? Justice!"
Arthur almost grinned at the horrified tone of Dutch's voice, the long-winded speech that would follow.
"Justice is killing a child for all these blood-thirsty wretches to watch? And what kind of justice is that, sir? What kind of society do we live in that a boy could be slaughtered for the amusement of the masses? And here I thought a new era was beginning, a time for change and progress! Is this not savagery, though, in the most literal sense?"
Arthur glanced up at the boy dangling between the two lawmen. He was watching Dutch, just as everyone else, and he looked to be frozen in a state of pure disbelief, mouth hanging open, brow crinkled.
Arthur almost chuckled.
"Sir… I, well… the people this boy has tormented… well, the boy is the savage one!" Mr. Rose shouted.
"And who raised him though, but this society, sir? He was born into it. Fattened up by it! He is a product of his environment!"
Arthur was close enough now to strike, and Dutch paused in his speech.
"Well, I can see mere words won't suffice," the older man sighed. "I suppose now I'll have to do something rash."
Arthur didn't bother to look to see what rash thing Dutch had done, but the reaction was instantaneous. Cries echoed around the square and the crowd suddenly jolted, scurrying away like cockroaches being hit with lamp light.
Arthur was pushed and pulled in the fray but managed to stand his ground and wait as the lawmen nearest to him jumped off the gallows and headed for Dutch.
"I'll shoot her if you get any closer!" Arthur heard Dutch shout.
There was a scuffle, more hollers and people running, and then the sheriff was crying: "Follow that man! Do not let him get away!"
And with that, over half the lawmen were gone, darting after Arthur's mentor.
Arthur got himself up onto the gallows, pistol whipping the lawman nearest him. He tumbled forward off the stage, landing with a crunch.
"Christ alive!" The sheriff shouted.
The lawmen holding the boy let go and rushed for Arthur. He ducked beneath the first's outstretched arms and sent a well-placed blow on the underside of the man's knee, buckling it. He tipped over the edge of the stage and fell, too. The other, Arthur incapacitated with a simple punch to send him tumbling.
Both of them dispatched, he glanced back at the boy, who still had the noose around his neck and was staring with pure awe. Then his attention focused on something behind Arthur and he shouted, "Behind you!"
Arthur tried to turn but had already been caught in a brutal tackle. They landed against the wooden boards hard, and Arthur struggled against the man as he tried to choke the life out of him.
He fought dirty, though, the way he'd always had to and kneed the guy in the nuts. The feller went limp above, crying out in pain, and Arthur rolled him over the side of the gallows, landing in a pile with the rest of them.
Back on his feet, Arthur found only the sheriff remaining. One hand was on his holstered gun, the other on the lever that would release the trap door beneath the boy.
"Don't you do it," Arthur warned, going for his own gun.
But the sheriff had already yanked back on the lever savagely.
Arthur glanced over just in time to see the boy dropping, and then he heard the click of a pistol cocking.
Arthur's own gun was already drawn, aimed, and firing before the idiotic sheriff had the time to pull the trigger. That was the thing about small town lawmen, usually-they'd never had to be real quick. This man was no exception.
He dropped dead before a full five seconds had passed.
Arthur ran over to the trap door, thanked his lucky stars the fall hadn't instantly broken the kid's neck. Instead, the little fool was kicking and gagging, struggling helplessly against the noose.
"Hold up, kid," Arthur muttered, grabbing the rope and hauling upward. The boy was light enough, and it only took a little effort on Arthur's part to get him on solid ground again. "You're one lucky little son of a bitch," he muttered as he drew a knife and sawed at the noose.
"Lucky!" the kid scoffed. "I nearly just about died!"
"You didn't, though, did ya?"
"Who the hell are you, anyway?"
"A fine way to talk to the man who just saved your sorry hide," Arthur muttered, finally freeing the boy of the last bit of rope around his wrists. "Martin, was it?"
"Marston," the boy growled, scowling.
"Yeah, sure," Arthur replied. "Come on, then. Let's get goin' before they come back with more men. We're in a whole heap of trouble now."
"What about your friend? The one who was doin' all the talkin'?"
"You'll find he's as good at slippin' past fools as he is talkin' at them. He'll be fine." Arthur sheathed his knife and started down the gallows steps. "You comin', kid? Or you wanna wait and give the noose another run?"
The kid rubbed at his neck, flecks of dirt and grime raining down on his shirt collar. "I'm comin'," he grunted.
So much for gratitude, Arthur thought.
A/N: I know that John was supposedly saved from a lynching after he was caught stealing. But I thought it'd be more dramatic this way. Please excuse any grammar mistakes as this is unedited. Thanks for reading! Drop a review if you have a suggestion for another character! Also, the quote used at the beginning of the chapter is from Bad Company's "Bad Company," and is not mine, just like these beautiful characters are not mine, either. xx