Disclaimer: I don't own John Marston (unfortunately) or any of the other characters in this story, except Ellie Johnson. I also don't own the fictional world this story is set in, and I didn't write the dialog in some of the scenes (you should know which ones if you played the game, which I'm assuming you did, since you're here and all lol). This first chapter ends with a scene straight from the game, but I don't want you to think the whole story will be this way. I just needed a way to set it up, and this seemed to work for me.
John Marston lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the late morning sun shining through his window. He hadn't meant to sleep so late, but but the previous nights' events had left the man exhausted. He lay staring at the ceiling of his cabin for a moment, replaying the near disaster in his head. Bonnie MacFarlane's cattle herd had been spooked by a lightning-struck tree branch in a wild rainstorm, and they had taken off like a bolt of lightning themselves, headed straight for a cliff.
John didn't know much about ranching or herding cattle, but he did know how to ride a horse, and he had sent that Kentucky Saddler flying. The stallion caught up to the herd with ease, sped past them, and skidded to a halt right at the edge of the cliff. The cattle veered left and right, all except one, and in the end John had saved the majority of Bonnie's herd. She'd been more than grateful and offered to let him stay on at the ranch as long as he needed, what was hers was his, whatever he wanted. But John wasn't planning on staying long. He had a mission to complete and a family to get home to.
Slowly, he stood up off his bed and ran a hand down the wound under his ribs. It had been a little over a week since he'd gotten shot, and he had been healing up nicely. If not for Bonnie, John's quest to bring in his former brother-in-arms, Bill Williamson, would have ended as soon as it began. It was something he didn't like to think too much about. He just wanted his wife and son back. He let out a deep sigh, then began to dress and strap on his guns. After he'd plucked his hat from a stand opposite the bed and placed it gently atop his head, he made his way out of the cabin and toward Bonnie's house.
"Mornin', Mr, Marston," came a familiar voice from up ahead. He glanced up to see Bonnie walking out of the General Store. "I was startin' to get a little worried about you. You sleep all right?"
"Just fine, Miss MacFarlane, thank you," John replied with a nod. In truth, he hadn't slept well at all. Even after he was finally able to close his weary eyes, he had tossed and turned with vivid dreams, and not the pleasant kind.
Bonnie smirked at him. "That's not what those shadows under your eyes are tellin' me," she said. "Anything you'd like to talk about? Why don't you join me at the house for some tea?"
"I'd love to, Miss, but I was just on my way to let you know I'd be heading into town today. Gonna have me a chat with the marshal." John hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his pants. "I have to get things taken care of, and soon, if I ever want to get back home."
Bonnie nodded politely. "I understand. How long do you think you'll be gone?"
"Not sure, Miss McFarlane," John replied. "A few days, maybe? However long it takes me."
"It's Bonnie, John. Don't make me tell ya again," she said with a smile. "Now go on, get outta here!"
John chuckled as he turned back towards his cabin and his horse. "Yes, ma'am!"
He was about ten miles from Armadillo, descending the mountain, when he noticed a man had set up camp up ahead a bit. Thinking he could use a quick drink since he'd forgotten his canteen at the ranch, John directed his horse off to the side of the road and up the hill to the modest camp.
The view from up here was amazing. He could see all the way to Lake Don Julio, and the vast desert land surrounding it took his breath away. Somewhere out there, Bill Williamson was hiding away, and John was bound and determined to find him.
"Well, howdy," the man called from the log near the unlit campfire ring.
John dismounted his horse and motioned for the steed to stay put. "Excuse me, friend," he replied as he approached. "Mind if I rest up at your camp a spell?"
"It'd be my pleasure," said the stranger. "Man needs a break from this desiccated land."
John propped a foot up on another log and leaned his elbow on his knee. "Thank you, mister." A thin stick, forked at one end and leaning against the log beside the man, caught his eye. "Say what's that stick ya got there?"
The man glanced down at it. "Oh. Ya'll ain't never seen a dousin' rod before, mister? Never seen a man summon the water up from the bare earth, uh, mister, uh...?"
"Marston," John finished for him and held out his hand. The man stood and shook it firmly. "No," he continued. "Can't say I have. If it's water you're looking for, what's wrong with that lake over there?" He pointed toward the lake off in the distance.
"Aw, there ain't nothin' wrong with Lake Don Julio," the stranger replied in his thick drawl. They both turned to admire it. "Nothin' wrong with it, but...we lack the fancy irrigation equipment you folks have back East." John chuckled at his observation. Must have been the accent that gave it away, he thought, amused. "Man needs a well-spring on his proper-tie to ranch here," the gentleman continued.
John nodded. "Makes sense."
"Yeah. Why, ya know, just last week, I was over at old Pleasance House and I think I may have found somethin.'" He turned back to his log and took a seat. "But, old coot that owns the place threatened to call the law down on me, so..."
John resumed his stance on his own log. "People act funny around strange men with sticks," he snickered.
"They sure do!" the man agreed. "Damn fools. Betcha he don't even know how much water's runnin' underneath his proper-tie."
"Want me to tell him?" John offered.
The man laughed. "Ya know what? Ya ain't that stupid, mister. And I can tell." He stood again and walked toward John. "I tell you what, why don't you go get the old man to sell us his proper-tie for a small pittance, then I can find the source of the water and build us a proper well-spring!"
John stood up straight and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. "Maybe I will," he said facetiously.
The odd man clapped his hands together. "Well all right, then!" he said and laughed absurdly.
What a strange fella, John thought as he took a seat on the ground beside the log. The two exchanged polite chitchat for awhile, and John learned the man's name was Daniel Hannan. After a few refreshing cups of water, John mounted his horse and continued on his way toward town.
