This is the end.
Those were some of the last few words that went through my mind as I stepped toward the terrifying barn door. On the other side of this door was the end of my story.
How could they do this? I had done everything that they had asked me to do. I hunted my old gang, killed them, and had done so many other tasks for them, and this was my ultimate payment. A showdown on my own land.
They took my wife and son. My dear, sweet Abigail, who I was never to see again. My precious boy Jack. I could only be thankful for the final moments I was able to spend with them. Those small, precious moments. They were all I could think about as I stepped closer to the door.
My doom was approaching. Why did I deserve this? Were the things I had done really so awful? I robbed banks, and I killed men. I don't deny it. Never will. But I only robbed and killed for good reasons. They were good reasons, were they not? Maybe...
No! They were! My reasons were sound, and I don't regret a thing I did! That's for damn sure, and now this son of a bitch, Edgar Ross, was getting rid of the last of Dutch's gang. Me. Why didn't I see this coming? How could I be fooled into thinking that everything would be okay if I just did what the government told me to do. I'm a damn fool! I'm a fool!
My heart was pounding against my chest. As I took each step, the door became my personal gateway to hell. Was that where I would go? I was never a man of religion, but I believed I was a good guy. I believe I had lived my life to the fullest. I married a beautiful, intelligent woman and gave birth to an outstanding son. I loved them and laughed with them. That's all that mattered.
Getting closer, John.
This was it. I accepted it. I embraced it. As I was at my last step, the door was no longer terrifying. This was my punishment. This was my destiny. I would die on my land, knowing I lived my life the best I could. I would die on my land, knowing that my wife and son were safe, and that Jack would always protect her, just as she would protect him.
This was it. I stretched out my arm and shoved the door open. Sunlight blinded me, and all I could make out were silhouettes of men, standing in a line. As my vision returned to its normal state, I saw him. Edgar Ross. He and all of his men stood perfectly still, with all of their guns aimed at me.
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to shout at them, telling them that it didn't matter, because I wasn't afraid to die. I wasn't afraid. I looked Edgar right in the eye, and I give him a small smile. He returned with a questioning look. As I glanced around one last time, I decided to give these boys something to remember. One last round with the infamous John Marston.
I was not afraid to love.
I was not afraid to fight.
I was not afraid to die.
My gun is drawn.