Hello! I know it's been a loooong time since I've updated this story but I always intended to return to it some day. As with all my stories, I just needed the proper incentive. Ever since E3, with the announcement of RDR2 and the return of John Marston, I've been thinking about this story and how to continue. I haven't really been writing for the past year and a half, excluding one new story completely unrelated to RDR and I'm a little rusty. I've lost the thread of characterization and the tone and writing style might change half-way through. About 1200 words were written late 2015 and the rest written today. Despite that, I hope you enjoy.
P.S. I've included a few lines from RDR, but I'm going to stick with mostly new dialogue from here on out. Forgive the OOC John and Bonnie as I try to find my rhythm. I own nothing.
Thanks for the horse name suggestions. I went with RKF22's suggestion of "Spirit" for reasons made clear.
John had more than a few days of excitement and less sleep than he should have considering that he was no longer young. His body ached, a weariness settling into his bones. He wished that everything he needed to do would end, and soon. Jack, he reminded himself. He might be tired and old but he still had work to do. Everything he did now was for Jack, even if his son went to his grave hating him. One day he might understand, one day it would be worth it if only Jack came out of this alive and well.
After he'd caught the wild stallions for Bonnie and her father, he went straight to his borrowed cabin to sleep. It was still the middle of the day but John knew his limits. He had yet to hear from Marshal Johnson about what he'd managed to squeeze out of Norman Deek and John was tired of running around for the Marshal, acting as some sort of replacement for the men who could barely do their jobs. He considered seeking Bonnie out, helping her with whatever she happened to be doing. He sensed no discontent from her regarding his past. Perhaps she'd accepted it as another part of him. And what a generous woman she was if she had. He pushed away the small sliver of hope at that thought. He wasn't stupid, despite what he might be accused of on occasion. He knew that Bonnie looked on him with admiration, bordering on some form of attachment. And when had she become Bonnie? Miss MacFarlane, John chastised himself. But it would do no good. Their relationship was already a bit of an oddity. She considered him a friend after a few weeks of acquaintance, and he could not deny that he wanted that from her, if not more.
He sighed as he took off his hat and settled it carefully on the table. The cot would never be accused of being luxurious, but it was a world better than the sleeping roll and small fire he'd become accustomed to on the road. He didn't bother undressing, ready to be up at a moment's notice. With Norman Deek under the watchful eye of Marshal Johnson, John wouldn't be surprised if Bill did something drastic to get him back. He would need to return to Armadillo sooner rather than later but well-needed rest came first.
That's what he told himself. But the image of Bonnie riding her horse with wild abandon was trapped in his mind. He didn't consider himself to be a poetic man but he likened her image to one of those Valkyries he'd read about years before. Not knowing much about them, he could only assume that one would be like Bonnie: strong, independent, fierce, prettiest woman he'd ever set his eyes on if he could admit it to himself. He would not allow thoughts of his dead wife to interrupt his imaginings. He could not compare Bonnie to Abigail, as they were born worlds apart it seemed. They both had their strengths and weaknesses and yet he admired them both for similar reasons. Abigail shouldn't be dead and if she was alive John would not have allowed himself to admire Bonnie as he did. But he was no longer a married man and he could imagine Bonnie as his wife under different circumstances. He snorted at the idea, but knew that he wasn't far off the mark. Bonnie had no qualms of flirting with propriety. Requesting he call her by her given name, riding with him by herself as often as she did, it was a surprise that her father had not asked John what he wanted with his daughter. And John would have no idea how to answer that question.
Whatever he felt for Bonnie had been simmering under the surface for days, driven by her cheerful smiles, bright eyes, and flushed cheeks. He appreciated her straight-forward manner and her impatience with typical feminine interests. He could never see her wearing a pretty dress and hat, spending most her time embroidering or reading God's word as she let her future husband attend to her ranch. She would never be considered a lady by society, and he was grateful for it. She deserved more than an ex-outlaw with a son almost grown. The trouble was that she was unlikely to meet someone of an appropriate caliber with the closest town being Armadillo. Men out here were more crude than he was and had little patience for a woman that rivaled them or exceeded them in knowledge and intelligence. She was considered somewhat of a spinster at her age. He heard the whispers at the bar about how old she was getting, about how she was surely looking for a husband, and he wasn't blind to the leering stares she received whenever they were in town. He'd beaten his fair share of men that speculated about what she looked like without her clothing. John heard the rumors that he was courting Bonnie MacFarlane, and he chose to neither admit or deny anything, if it kept her name safe. He was looked on with equal parts fear and gratitude in Armadillo and surrounding areas and no one dared to speak ill of Bonnie MacFarlane while he was within earshot. He knew that Amos must be aware of the rumors and figured that was the reason the man stared at him the same way he might look at a cockroach. Drew MacFarlane was unaware of the gossip surrounding his only daughter, and John thanked the heavens for that small grace. He could only hope that Drew and Bonnie would remain ignorant of the rumors that surrounded them until he was well and gone. It would do no good to give Bonnie hope that he reciprocated whatever she felt.
John sighed at his tumultuous thoughts and rolled to his side, facing the door. His eyes closed tightly against the daylight and he tried to calm his mind enough to sleep. It was almost an hour before exhaustion tugged at him and pulled him into sleep. He dreamed of Bonnie, blond hair spread over his pillow, mouth pressed soft and warm against his, calloused palms stroking parts of him that hadn't been touched in months. She pulled away briefly, voice low and shaky against his ear. "John."
John Marston gave into the dream, unable to deny himself the illusion of warmth, care and desire that he craved.
Amos went to knock on John Marston's door, intent on taking the man out into the fields and interrogating him. Miss MacFarlane was clearly besotted with the man and it was beginning to worry him that Marston didn't seem to be discouraging her advances as he should. He knew Miss MacFarlane was stubborn but the man had no intentions of staying, no matter what she hoped. It was up to Amos to set the man straight.
He approached the door and knocked. When Marston didn't respond, he eased the door open cautiously, jolting at the sight of the man he was searching for sleeping on the small cot. Amos considered waking him but Marston seemed oddly peaceful and he would prefer not to get gutted by him when he obviously needed the rest. Amos sighed, slowly closing the door when John spoke, his voice barely discernable. "Bonnie."
Rage boiled under his skin, his fist tightening painfully on the door handle. Amos was ready to wake the man up, gutting be damned, until he took in Marston's expression. Peaceful, with a small smile on his lips. It was the closest to happy Amos had ever witnessed the man being. He paused in surprise, watching as the tension John Marston carried wherever he went eased, his body relaxed and unguarded. Amos shut the door and loped away, frowning in consideration. Perhaps the rumors he'd heard were truer than he knew.
XX
John woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in years, stretching with a small grin on his face as he considered his rather pleasant dreams. Then his expression clouded with shame as he considered the objectionable things that his brain had come up with in regard to Bonnie. Despite not considering herself a lady of any sorts, she still deserved respect and he'd tainted her hospitality with his dreams and growing obsession with Bonnie. He'd never really considered himself a religious man, or even particularly morally just but he'd found early on that he couldn't stand to see a woman disparaged, leered at or treated like some piece of meat. It never sat well with him and he'd settled comfortably in the idea that he would never treat a woman like any common man might. Abigail had called him a chivalrous soul, and teased him mercilessly for it, but he knew that she'd appreciated this trait until her death.
He glimpsed Bonnie as he saddled his new horse, looking away from her as her face lit with an eager expression at his appearance. He could not pretend not to see her, but he would distance himself for the moment so he could gather his thoughts and consider what he was going to do about the attraction he felt for Miss MacFarlane, and her apparent reciprocation. He raised his hand in what he considered a cordial greeting and turned his horse away from the ranch and the woman that threatened his resolve.
Bonnie watched him leave with a pensive expression, joy clouded by the heavy slope of John's shoulders and his curt greeting. He was never less than a gentleman, even as rough around the edges as he appeared, and she was certain he would come to say good morning at least. Perhaps he had a pressing matter that needed his attention? She hoped he wouldn't be gone long, or that he wouldn't be harmed doing whatever it was he did besides search for Bill Williamson.
XX
Though his stallion was broken in, he'd kept some of his recklessness and wild behavior, stomping his feet impatiently as John gathered roots and hunted the small creatures that roamed freely. He'd forgotten to pack himself a meal and he was regretting his haste now. He'd roamed far with his new stallion and there was no way he would make it back before night fell. He'd gone west, clear past Armadillo, despite his intent to check on Norman Deek and was nearing Ridgewood Farm, where he'd interrupted the massacre only days before.
Perhaps he needed to get away from MacFarlane Ranch for the night. He knew that Ridgewood had an open shed they let out to passers-by. It was a step up from camping under the stars at least with the warm bales of straw and blankets that would keep out the chill that had settled in his bones. And he would prefer to anchor his horse to something for the night in case the feisty stallion got any ideas of running away and leaving him stranded miles from town.
"You've got some spirit," John told the stallion with some admiration. He laughed as he considered it and nodded decisively. "Bon-Miss MacFarlane did say I should name you. How about it? Does Spirit suit?" The horse's whinnied snort was enough of an agreement for John. He patted Spirit's neck with affection and smiled as he considered how bright Bonnie's smile would be once he told her his stallion's name. "I'm in some trouble, Spirit and don't I know it." He couldn't recall ever being this happy just at the thought of a person, except maybe shortly after Jack's birth. That boy was his pride and joy, though he'd done so much to screw that relationship up. What was Bonnie to him? What could he allow her to be? "A question for another night," John told Spirit and led the horse to the farm.
The next morning John was up bright and early, woken up by the shouts of the men that were trying to break in the horses they'd captured. John wandered to the corral of sorts and read the sign posted outside with interest. Horse-breaking? He glanced at Sprit with amusement. No stallion alive would be as much hassle as he'd been. He waved over the man attempting to break in the Cleveland Bay with frustration. After John expressed his interest in the job, the man acceded readily, relieved to have someone else attempt it. At the end of the day, John had broken in two troublesome stallions and earned himself about twenty-two dollars. Not a lot but enough to tide him over until the next job. He slept one more night at Ridgewood and left before the sun rose in the sky.
Marshal Johnson had no news for him regarding Williamson or any attempts to save Norman Deek. John sighed in frustration, as he considered what else he could do to help speed the whole thing along. He needed info on how to get into Fort Mercer and he had no desire to be shot down once again before he was even able to make an effective attempt at capturing Williamson. He'd left Uncle and Jack the location of Bonnie's ranch to communicate with him, whether it was just a friendly letter or an emergency. So far he'd only received one short letter from Uncle declaring that his farm was fine, his boy was obstinate and could he hurry his ass back. It did a little to settle John's mind, but he'd hoped to hear from Jack, even if it was only to say he hated John. At least Jack would be communicating with him again.
John made his way back to Bonnie's after a night's stay in Armadillo. He'd been tempted to drink the few dollars he'd earned away, but he'd rather his mind be clear as he'd spent the last two nights dreaming of Bonnie. He didn't want to become the man that relied on drink to wash away his troubles, both for his son, and to avoid the disappointment that would cloud Bonnie's face. He'd met a stranger on the road back and had an odd conversation with the man that had lasted longer than he expected. Added to that was the large back that ran across his path. John had given chase, eager to bring Bonnie back something to thank her for her continued hospitality. He managed to sling the buck's carcass across Spirit's back but the stallion would take no more weight. They were close enough to the Ranch that John wasn't particularly disgruntled, until it started to rain and the wind threatened to whip his hat right off his head.
He arrived at dusk, when the rain started to pour in earnest and the lightning started to streak across the sky, lighting the ominous clouds. John headed immediately to the main house, bone-tired but eager to see Bonnie. He scoffed at his own behavior but couldn't stop the swell of anticipation. He was met at the door by Drew MacFarlane who thanked him for the buck but seemed distracted, a frown marring his face and his mustache bristling.
"What's wrong, Mr. MacFarlane?" John asked forcefully, looking around for Bonnie.
Drew looked ready to wave away his concern but he gave him a considering look. "Bonnie's gone down to the barn to speak to Amos. The herd is scattered around. We weren't able to gather them before the storm. I can look after your stallion and the buck if you could go help Bonnie, Mr. Marston."
John handed over the reins in a second and turned towards the barn. Knowing Bonnie, she'd be ready to look for the herd all herself. He came into the tail-end of the conversation, just in time to hear Bonnie declare Amos a stupid man. He'd be amused by her fire if he didn't share Bonnie's concern for the herd. He might not be used to farming or know so much about it but he knew that Bonnie's ranch couldn't suffer such losses. And he would do everything in his power to help Bonnie.
"Doesn't sound like we're left with much of a choice then. Come on, Amos, round up your men. Let's get the herd."
Amos looked ready to argue but he threw up his arms in exasperation at Bonnie's grateful smile aimed at John, and John's determination to help. "Dang!" he cursed mildly and followed John to the horses.
John mounted a borrowed horse and dutifully followed Bonnie's fast-paced exit from the ranch gates. He listened to Bonnie lament fate and her luck, or lack of and considered his own thoughts on faith and religion. He admitted that he didn't really believe in fate, rather in forging your own path, though he'd like to tell himself that everything happened for a reason.
"We all have to believe in something." Bonnie yelled.
He nodded and put the thought away for a moment. "Faith isn't going to help me get my son back," but maybe she had a point.
He followed her closely as she found the first half of the herd and paid careful attention to her instructions. He was a natural rider: firm with the herd when he needed to be and easing up on them when required. All the while Bonnie shouted for him over the crashing thunder and the high winds, her voice clear at moments and almost lost to the stampeding herd at others. John focused on the herd, but he couldn't help but glance at Bonnie and take in her hair, darkened by the rain and plastered to her skull. He set aside his worry for the time being and tried to ignore the way her wet clothes clung to her as if they were a second skin.
Herding a bunch of cattle that was frightened nearly to death by the storm wasn't an easy feat and eventually he couldn't even pay Bonnie any attention, focused solely on getting the herd back to safety. They nearly ran off a cliff, and he was surprised and grateful that he didn't lose a single one. He guided them into the corral gates and sighed in relief as two of Amos' men shut the gates quickly behind the cattle. Bonnie's voice snapped him out of his single-minded focus.
"You saved the herd, John! You might make a good rancher yet."
John took her in, smile wide despite the fact she was soaked through and probably turning numb from the cold. He smiled back gently, pleased by her praise. We all have to believe in something. What did he believe in? His son for certain, and Uncle to an extent. Jack was always there, on the back of his mind but while he was here, he seemed farther away. What did he believe in? I believe in you, Bonnie MacFarlane. But he didn't say that aloud. It was a foolish thought, even if it was true. Instead, he could only voice his thanks.
"Thank you, Bonnie." At her blush he grinned with sudden remembrance. "I named him Spirit."
Bonnie stared at him in puzzlement for a moment then laughed in understanding. "Seems fitting, considering our earlier discussion."
John shrugged. "Nothing spiritual, I should say. But he's not broken, and I don't think he ever really will be. Got a lot of spirit. It seemed like a good name."
Bonnie nodded. "You both have spirit in spades, John. I'm happy to see it."
John tipped his hat and turned to his cabin, eager to be away before he embarrassed himself further.
"Thanks again, John!" Bonnie called after him.
John turned back briefly and waved his hand in acknowledgment. The lightning lit up the sky and for a second, Bonnie was silhouetted in blue fire, eyes bright and lit with warmth. It was an image John would carry for a long time, remembering it even on his deathbed.
While I've warned about it before, I felt I needed to be clear. This story is my complete indulgence in the unexplored relationship between John and Bonnie. The game isn't about romance but this story is. I will follow the game storyline but this will be written how I want. If that disappoints anyone, I apologize but I'm not changing it.