As the Dust Settles
Sadie stared down at the newspaper article in disbelief, the hustle and bustle of the dreary but charming town of Valentine moving all around her. She balled the freshly printed paper into a fist and jammed it into her saddle bag.
John Marston, the last known living outlaw shot dead outside his own home at Breacher's Hope, the article read, and the bounty hunter had had to reread the heading twice. She knew the Old West was dying, had died as of the disbanding of the Van Der Linde Gang, but with the death of her most oldest and dearest friend it seemed to be all too surreal.
Sadie had never been one to be naive, and often viewed the world from a realist perspective rather than an idealist. Perhaps that was why she had grown to detest Dutch's ways in the end despite being taken in after the death of her husband. So she had been very much aware of the Old West's looming end. But with the sudden loss of one of her oldest and only friends it seemed to pierce straight through her cold and hardened heart, something that didn't happen all too often.
Sadie had heard whispers and rumours of the last of the notorious Van Der Linde gang members being hunted down and killed, the bounty on their heads so high that it was a wonder they were still breathing for so long. But one by one they all fell, no one knowing who had the guts or luck to take them all out.
So there she was, standing in the middle of the street in a town that may as well have been foreign with how much things had changed. It was still small in size, still only accommodating to the necessities of living. But there was also something that meshed in with the rest of the new world that made this place seem so unfamiliar.
Sadie wasted no time in mounting her horse as she kicked her boot into the stead's side, her destination her only focus. Time seemed to pass in a blur, and even as she reached the gates to the ranch she still did not slow down. Sadie yanked hard on the reigns, her horse practically skidding to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and within a split second she shoved the front door open.
A startled gasp sounded from down the hall towards the kitchen and just as Sadie was about to walk further inside the house Abigail appeared with a rifle ready to shoot. The bounty hunter recognised it immediately as John's repeater and then her gaze turned towards a terrified Jack who was standing just behind his mother. The gun instantly slid from her grasp and before she knew it she was staggering towards her, tears glossing in the woman's eyes. "Sadie I…" But there were no words left to say. The blood on the porch had said it all, the newspaper article true to its word. John had been killed, the last known living outlaw.
…
Sadie, Abigail and Jack sat around the table as the painful story was retold. With her emotions still so raw Abigail choked up once or twice, especially towards the end. And now the mystery as to who had killed Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella and Dutch Van Der Linde was answered, and honestly Sadie didn't blame him for it. She would have done the same thing in his situation, no questions asked. But the Government had caught up to him in the end and she knew that one day it could be her. Sadie wanted to kill them all, each and every Government official to avenge her friend's death. That constant familiar temper flared as she was informed on who had killed the reformed outlaw.
John had been laid to rest up on top of the hill right beside the silly old fool Uncle, forever overlooking the life and land he had worked so hard for. Abigail and Jack had stood in an eerie silence, quietly mourning the death of their loved one.
Abigail wiped away a stray tear as she finally finished the story, her grief and sorrow another burden she would have to bear. All they had wanted was a peaceful, simple life. But life as an outlaw had finally caught up, just as they had always known but dreaded it would. "I…I'm sorry for your loss. If it were up to me I'd already be out huntin' every one of the damn bastards down." Sadie husked, her voice rough just like her exterior. She would never change. Not now. But even the rough and ready Sadie Adler had to admit it would not only be foolish but a death sentence to even try to take on the Government.
The next morning just as the sun began to rise above the horizon, Sadie ventured out to the top of the hill where her fallen comrade had been laid to rest. She knelt down in the dirt, her face a mask of pain and regret. If anyone deserved a second chance at a better life it had been John. Arthur had even made sure of it in his final hours, one last good deed done. Both were bad men, Arthur more than John. But both had good in them, and had done good in their lives despite it not being enough to save them.
Sadie sniffed once as tears threatened to escape. She knew neither of them would like to be mourned, instead they would insist she live her life and never look back. In its place she would honour and remember them, both men close to her heart for the rest of her days.