A/N: Sorry for such a late update. Been busy with school and whatnot so I've been slacking off. This chapter is kind of filler-y but my excuse is that it's a transition from life at the orphanage to eventually life with the gang.

John sat beside the window, watching the townspeople go about their day. He had developed a habit of watching people and Abigail would always tell him that was strange. But he couldn't really help it. They were dynamic and always changing while he was stuck in the orphanage with no definite future in sight. Truth be told, it annoyed him that his life was so stagnant. It made him anxious and fidgety.

"Quit shaking your leg, John."

He turned and saw Sister Alberta. "Yes, ma'am." He stopped. A minute later, he started again.

She sighed.

"Sister?"

"Yes?"

"What's goin' to happen to me in a couple years?"

She stood beside him, looking out the window as well. "Why are you asking me? That's something only you would know."

He gave her a moody look before turning back to the window. She laughed, clapping him on the back.

"Boy, here's a little piece of knowledge I'll impart to you." She said, removing his hat. He moved to grab it but she held it out of his reach, setting her hand on his head and ruffling his hair.

He looked up at her expectantly. "Yes, ma'am?"

"We've all got something we have to do during our time on this earth, boy." She told him, waving his hat at him. "If there's something you think you need to do, then there is nothing holding you back from doing it but yourself." Setting his hat on his head, she grinned at him. "And whatever it is, you have to find out for yourself."

Adjusting the hat on his head, he nodded thoughtfully as he mulled over her words in his head.

It's amazing how even the soundest of plans can go awry. John and Abigail learned this firsthand. Their plan to escape was hardly complex; besides, under the cover of night, they could do just about anything without getting caught, as long as the watchdog was taken care of. To do that, they made sure they were properly acquainted with the dog, giving it bones and scraps of meat for days before they planned to leave. They even managed to procure a decently sized steak for it the night of their escape; it deserved the reward, after all, it was the only thing that could have stopped them from leaving.

Sneaking out of the orphanage was easy. Snores easily muffled their footsteps and the creaky floorboards. Each of them carrying a large bundle, they moved along the outskirts of the town, carefully ducking into the shadows as they crossed alleys. The soft footfalls of the dog drew near. Reaching into the bundle, Abigail retrieved the wrapped up steak. "C'mere, boy." She whispered, waving it around. It came around the corner and cheerfully wagged its tail, recognizing them. It happily occupied itself with the free food as they continued along the walls, making their way toward the saloon. They could hear the loud obnoxious laughter of drunk men and the shrill laughter of the women through the walls.

Quickly crossing the dirt road to the mounting post, they loaded their bundles on to the horse. It whinnied, nervous with unfamiliar people handling it, but settled down after being fed an apple.

John hoisted Abigail on to the horse and settled in the saddle. "I think we're good to go."

Pulling the reigns, he led the horse out. It let out a low whinny, its horseshoes clopping loudly against the dirt road. The laughter from the saloon subsided.

"It's 'bout time I turn in." A slightly drunken man announced in the saloon, his words slurred. "Now behave yourselves, you hear? I don't want to wake up in an hour and hear that you dumbasses got yourselves into some kind of trouble."

Laughter and goodbyes followed the man out as he exited the saloon.

John felt Abigail's grip tighten. "Uh, John-"

"Shit." He muttered.

They found themselves face to face with the man whose horse was being stolen right before his eyes.

The man blinked, still trying to comprehend the situation with his impaired brain function and adjusting eyes. Realization dawned on him and his hand flew to his gun at his side. "You -"

They bolted before the man could properly hold the gun in his hand. Unwilling to shoot at his own horse, he shouted for the others and they clambered out of the saloon, some still clutching a bottle. A few were sober enough to mount their horses but thankfully for John and Abigail, none could shoot straight.

As they galloped away on the horse, bullets whizzed past them. He heard Abigail shriek as a bullet ripped through her dress. "Why are they shootin'? They don't shoot to kill for horse theft, right?"

He should have been scared. He should have stopped. But he kept whipping the reigns, digging his heels into the horse, his heart beating hard against his chest.

"You'll get a kick out of this," he shouted over the wind, grinning widely as he remembered seeing the glint of a silver badge, "I think we just stole the marshal's horse!"

When he thinks back, he hadn't cared that he was leaving the orphanage. Back then, it was just a place he had lived. But now, he wonders what would've happened if he and Abigail had stayed. Maybe they would've have grown up good and honest. Maybe they could have helped the sisters out. But he thinks of Sister Alberta's words and accepts everything he's done, along with any consequences that may come with it.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated.