You didn't really think that running away was the answer, did you? That it would bring back their son and magically fix everything? Of course not, but that didn't mean you weren't contemplating it. In fact, the idea struck you when Pinkerton agents unexpectedly made an appearance at Clemens Point, prompting Dutch to order everyone to start packing and moving fast.
This was it, your opportunity, you told yourself as your eyes fixated on your suitcase. It was just sitting there, unassuming and waiting for you to make your next move. You've played it in your head a few times - pick up your suitcase while no one's looking, bring your horse right behind the wagons and carriages, strap it up, and when you're ready, make a run for it. You knew your dad still had some money in the bank, and this new campsite was in close proximity to St. Denis. From there, you could board a ship that could take you away, maybe far east – away from all of this, away from Abigail, away from John.
John wasn't there; he was with Arthur and Dutch. The three of them had set out for St. Denis to look for Angelo Bronte, hoping to shed more light on Jack's whereabouts. The others who remained hustled about, unloading supplies from the wagons, pitching tents, and repairing the walls and floorboards of the derelict house that was to be the Van der Linde gang's new hideout.
You felt a sense of restlessness and unease in your chest when you finally decided to act. With mechanical grace, you picked up your suitcase, thinking it must have weighed a thousand times more than it actually did before approaching your horse. You moved carefully so as not to draw any attention to yourself and let anyone know what you intended to do. Thankfully, the wagons and carriages provided cover that helped keep you hidden from view. With practised ease, you mounted your horse and adjusted your suitcase, making sure it was securely fastened. Taking a deep breath, you urged your horse forward.
You looked back once more, and you saw your life and home for the past year growing smaller and smaller. You turned your head back on the road ahead, leaning forward and urging the animal to go faster. Maybe if you rode fast enough, you could outrun the guilt and shame that consumed you. Leaving them was the last thing you wanted, but you couldn't bring yourself to face Abigail and John again, not after everything that had happened when you broke the news to them.
You were still disoriented from the injury you sustained to your head, frantically searching for words to explain to them what had happened to their son. Abigail's face grew pale and twisted with horror, then rage. She started screaming and spewing curses at you and John. She had made herself explicitly clear that she never wanted you near her son, and John had betrayed her.
You could still hear her screams ringing in your ears as you recalled how she launched herself at you with her fists balled tightly and arms swinging wildly. You instinctively flinched and shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself for impact, only to feel the rush of air as she missed you by mere inches. When you opened your eyes, you saw John standing between the two of you, his hands holding a firm grip on her. You wondered if you would still be alive had John and the others not intervened and if Dutch hadn't been able to pacify her that day.
As you neared Caliga Hall in the eastern part of Scarlett Meadows, you could hear another horse gaining speed towards your direction. The hoofbeats sounded different but not entirely unfamiliar. It was unmistakably Boaz's. You turned your head and saw Javier riding swiftly behind you. He was a much better rider than you, and it didn't take him long to finally catch up to you. With skillful maneuvering, he was able to block your path effectively, causing you and your horse to swerve to the side.
"Where do you think you're going?" His eyes, filled with alarm and concern, flicked from your suitcase and then to you. Javier had noticed your absence among the commotion at Shady Belle earlier, and when he realised your horse was missing too, he immediately headed out in search of you.
"Out of the way, Javier, please!" Your voice quavered as you implored him to move.
"You can't just leave like this." He tightened his grip on the reins, keeping his horse steady. Your horse whinnied in protest as you attempted to guide it around him, but Boaz was too strong.
You shook your head. "You don't understand. I can't stay. I can't face Abigail… and John. That little boy, Javier, I just can't!"
"Think about what you're doing, [Y/N]." Javier's voice was firm but gentle, begging you to find some reason amidst all of this.
Gritting your teeth, you dug your heels into your horse's sides, but it refused to budge. Javier's horse edged closer, causing your horse to sidestep and your suitcase to jostle behind you.
"You think that's what John needs right now? He's out there, at his wit's end, looking for Jack."
"Have you even thought about what it'll do to him when he comes home and finds you gone?" He gestured with his arm in frustration.
"What happened to Jack, that wasn't your fault, [Y/N]." He added, his voice finally softening.
Warm tears started streaming down your sun-kissed face, and the weight of your decision suddenly felt unbearable. You realised how foolish and selfish you had been, and you were this close to leaving everything and everyone that mattered to you, including John.
You knew you had to go back. You took a deep breath and finally looked at Javier, who was patiently waiting for your response. You nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your defeat.
With his reassuring nod and a smile, Javier led his horse to ride alongside yours. The two of you made your way back to Shady Belle in comfortable silence. You thought how grateful you were for his company and, most importantly, for showing you the way back home.
As the afternoon faded into evening, the sounds of the swamp grew louder. The deep and guttural croaking of the bullfrogs echoed in the distance, and the incessant buzzing of mosquitoes and other insects hummed in the background. Every so often, the occasional splash of water could be heard from the swamp, creating an ominous and foreboding atmosphere that seemed to seep into everyone's mood.
Dutch's voice boomed, breaking the tension and unease in the air. "We're here!" he shouted, "And we've brought Jack back!" The camp erupted into a frenzy of cheers and relief, and the fear and apprehension that had gripped the gang dissipated.
No one was more relieved and overjoyed to see little Jack again than his mother. Abigail ran toward her baby boy, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. She thanked Dutch and Arthur for bringing her boy back, her gaze meeting John's before leading the little boy back into the fold, where they were greeted with singing and celebration. Javier led with his guitar, and the gang broke into a chorus, his beautiful voice carrying above the others.
As the celebration carried on into the night, you found yourself standing alongside Reverend Swanson and Kieran, taking in the scene of the party from a safe distance. Even Sadie, who had been distant and withdrawn since Horseshoe Overlook, appeared to be in better spirits.
"I don't want to ruin it," the Reverend answered ruefully when you asked him why he wasn't joining the festivities. You reminded him not to be too hard on himself, offering advice you thought you could certainly use as well.
Your eyes wandered over the group by the campfire, lingering for a moment on John as he sat with Abigail and Jack. A faint and familiar feeling tugged in your chest as you watched them by the campfire. You tore your gaze away in hopes of distracting yourself from it. You shifted your attention back to Reverend Swanson, who had started telling you the story about the ghost of a young woman that haunted the grounds of Shady Belle. The sunken hollows beneath his eyes only seemed to deepen as he spoke, casting an eerie shadow over his already haunted tale.
As Swanson's story drew to a close, Arthur made his way over. Noticing your reserved demeanour, he placed the comforting weight of his hand on your shoulder and offered you a drink. You accepted and felt the warmth of his touch still lingering on the cup, sensing that he had somehow read and understood everything that was going on in your mind. You looked up at Arthur and thanked him for the gesture, the liquid burning down your throat as you did. His eyes held a silent inquiry, and for a moment, you considered confiding in him, but words eluded you.
As the night progressed, the singing and drinking gradually died down, and the group that had gathered around the campfire earlier dispersed into smaller clusters. Javier's music continued, providing a soothing backdrop to the conversation between Arthur, Hosea, and Dutch, who were discussing what they've recently learned about Angelo Bronte.
You must've been on your third or fourth refill, all courtesy of Miss Jones, when John found you sitting by the fountain, lost in your own thoughts. Without a word, he sat beside you and raised his bottle in a silent toast. A few moments later, Jack joined you with a cheerful greeting, seemingly unmarred by the recent events.
You returned the little boy's greeting with a warm smile, but your expression quickly turned serious as you noticed Abigail approaching you and John. Your heart raced, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hoping to avoid another confrontation with her.
"I feel like I can breathe again," Abigail said, finally breaking the ice. She paused for a moment before continuing, "I'm sorry if I was...well, I was just really worried sick." Her words were sincere, and a sense of relief washed over you as you accepted her apology.
After bidding the two of you goodnight and taking Jack with her, Abigail left you and John alone once more. You savoured the last sips of your drink, basking in the peace and calm of the night. John remained quiet, his tiredness apparent in his eyes. You knew he needed a good night's sleep after all he had been through, and you decided it was best not to burden him with the knowledge of what you were up to that day.
With a soft sigh, he rose from his seat and looked at you with such tenderness and longing, a silent invitation to call it a night. Without hesitation, you rose to your feet and took his rough, calloused hand in yours. Together, you made your to your quarters, leaving behind the warmth of the fire and the memories of turmoil and disquiet of the past few days.