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Chapter 1: Colter Part 3
Pain and numbness. That's all he can feel. He can't open his eyes, can't move his body. He knows he's lying down; it's cold, but there's something draped over him, keeping him somewhat warm. There's a strange sensation on one of his eyes, and his left hand feels heavy—someone is holding it. He starts to hear sounds, but he can't open his eyes yet. He's not in control of his body.
He hears a woman, a voice he can recognize.Abigail. She's talking to him, more in a whisper, as if she doesn't want him to hear her words yet wants him to know she's by his side. That damn woman. He's shown her, warned her so many times that he ain't the right partner, yet here she is, still by his side, even after he left her with Jack for a whole goddamn year.
Why didn't Abigail understand him? He doesn't want anything to do with the little boy. The boy isn't even his yet she still insist it's his, it's not.
He clasps his eyes tightly together, feeling like he can slowly move his body. Something hurts, a deep ache running down his body. His face starts tingling, and he feels something pulling on it. He lets out a little groan of pain and discomfort. He hears Abigail gasp and immediately cling to his face, yet not letting go of his hand. He feels her touching him with her delicate fingers.
John?
John?
When he opens his eyes slowly, he's blinded. By what? Darkness? It's not that light here, yet it's too bright. After a few blinks, he finally can sort of see his surroundings, though it's still a little blurry. As he moves his head a little to the left, he sees Abigail, her face. It's the first thing he sees. Yet, something in him feels disappointed, but for what?
He moves his lips, and he hears words tumble out—his words—but he doesn't understand what he says until he says it. "What happened? Where am I?"
John sees worry, relief, concentration, guilt, and so many other emotions in Abigail's eyes. They are a whole rollercoaster. He looks away from her, taking in his surroundings as the blurriness fades. He's in a wooden cabin. There is a small fireplace lit, but it's still cold, considering Abigail is quite warmly dressed.
Right.
They're in the snowy mountains.
He starts to remember. He remembers being attacked by wolves. His horse died; he remembers that too. Poor horse. He remembers hearing gunshots. He was happy to hear them yet scared, hoping it wasn't O'Driscolls, but then he saw Arthur. Arthur was inspecting his face until their eyes met. Arthur picked him up; it hurt. He remembers Javier. He remembers seeing wolves again while on Arthur's shoulder, but he heard three gunshots, and the wolves were dead. Arthur had always been strong. Then it felt bumpy; he was on the back of Javier's horse. He thought he was going to die. He felt weak and sick. He lost so much blood, and the cold wasn't really helping.
Then they reached a little town. He remembers Arthur and Javier talking to him, but he doesn't understand; it's hazy. The last thing he remembers is being pulled off the back of Javier's horse. It hurt. He remembers groaning loudly in pain—his leg. Then everything went black.
What time is it? What day is it? Where are they? Are they safe?
"We're in an abandoned mining town," Abigail starts, as if she could read his thoughts. "I don't know what the time is, nor the day. I don't know how long it has been. Arthur and Javier are out hunting; we're starving. Lenny and Bill didn't find anything."
Is this it? Is this their fate? Their end? So soon? They weren't supposed to die just yet.
"Don't die just yet, cowboy."
Arthur.
"Are we safe? Is Arthur safe?" he looks over at her. Her face is pinched together. Why?
"Arthur? Since when did you care about Arthur?" she asks him, and he doesn't know why. But she continues, "He is, that I know. I just told you he's out hunting with Charles. They left quite a while ago, so they should be back soon."
Just as she says that, they both hear Arthur.
"Brought some food back, boys."
"Oh! They're back, and they found food." Abigail smiles sweetly at John. She looks more relieved. Why? Were they starving?
He lets out a little grunt, and that's the last thing he remembers before falling asleep again—or did he fall unconscious?
He's tired.
A few days later...
Arthur's Journal,
It's been a rough few weeks, but Dutch being Dutch, he's busy making plans and... Dutch being Dutch, those plans involve robbery and dreams.
"I thought you was reading him his last rites... now I see you're introducing him to your other passions."
Swanson stands up, a displeased look on his face. "I'll mind you to show me some respect, Mr. Morgan."
Arthur doesn't look all that fazed; he meets Swanson's gaze with a serious expression. "Mind away, Reverend."
With that, Swanson leaves the cabin, leaving Arthur and John alone.
"You still here, then?" John hears Arthur ask him. Oh, how he missed Arthur's mouth—his dirty, sarcastic, rude mouth. John turns his head to look at Arthur, who's sitting in the chair next to the bed.
"I owe you." John grunts out. He's hurting again, feeling dizzy.
"And you'll pay me... but for the moment, just rest." Arthur, always so rude yet so sweet. He looks rough on the outside, but inside he's just a man who cares deeply for those he loves, even for John, despite being angry with him. John knows Arthur still cares deeply, even if Arthur is still mad. He wants to apologize, but he doesn't know how. It would only lead to an argument, and he isn't in the state to talk to Arthur just yet. Arthur probably won't listen to him now, so John lets it be and allows Arthur to cool down.
They hear the door open, and John curses silently in his head. Too much is happening; it's making his head hurt.
"Arthur..." John notices Arthur snap his head towards Dutch, who has entered the room. Dutch is holding something in his hand, but John can't see what it is. Abigail never tells him much about what's happening outside the cabin—she only takes care of him or talks about something else.
Dutch walks closer. "I think it's time for the train."
The train? What train? John wants to come too. Would Dutch allow him to?
"You want me to come?" John mumbles. He sees Arthur and Dutch looking at him as if he's a fragile thing. He isn't; he's strong, and he can come too. He's a little dizzy, but he's sure he can handle it. It feels so unfair—Arthur always gets to do the cooler jobs. They treat John like he's still a little boy.
"Of course I do," Dutch replies, and John's spirits lift. Maybe he can go. But then he hears the 'but' coming.
"But... look at you."
"I was always ugly, Dutch... it's just a scratch." John says, hoping Dutch will let him come along. He needs to get away from here. Abigail is starting to suffocate him; she leaves him with little to no privacy. He's never alone—she's always around, with or without Jack.
As John tries to sit up, the door opens again. Arthur pushes him back down. "Stay still, son." Dutch says softly, also pressing John back to lie down. John glares at Arthur, who meets his gaze calmly. Frustrated, John looks away towards Abigail and Jack. Goddammit.
"Hello, Abigail." Dutch greets her.
"Dutch."
"Jackie." Dutch says, greeting the little boy. John notices Arthur standing up from the chair. No, don't leave him alone with Abigail.
"The boy wanted to see you, John." John looks at Abigail, his frustration building.
"He's seen me now... or what's left of me." John replies. He ignores how Jack comes closer; he's not his son, not at all, no matter how much Abigail insists. He shifts his head slightly, looking at Abigail. "What about you?"
The question clearly insults Abigail, and she looks at him angrily. "Guess I was hoping to see a corpse." Abigail sneers. "Bide your time, you'll see plenty of them."
"You're a rotten man, John Marston." Abigail spits out angrily. John sees Arthur glaring at him but chooses to ignore it. He's tired of Arthur sticking his nose in his business. Maybe it's secretly Arthur's son after all; he wouldn't be surprised if Abigail had slept with Arthur. But if he dared to say it, Arthur would surely kill him.
Probably even for thinking about it.
"He's an idiot, Abigail, we all know it," Dutch says as Abigail turns Jack around to walk away.
"Now, railway men." Dutch adds, already walking off, with Arthur still lingering.
"Arthur," John calls out. Arthur looks back over his shoulder. "When I'm recovered... can we talk?"
Arthur looks away, and John fears he won't accept. "My plan was to talk to you while you were stuck here, but I don't have the time. I'll see if I want to talk to you." Arthur replies. John's mouth twitches slightly upwards. Typical Arthur.
"Are you mad at me?" John mumbles, not sure if Arthur heard him. His whisper is barely audible. He knows Arthur heard him the moment he hears Arthur sigh deeply.
"I am."
That's the last thing said between them as Arthur walks out, heading off to the train robbery John had wished so badly to join. But now, John is left stuck here.
He decides to sleep, just like he does every day. Nothing too eventful happens apart from the times Miss Grimshaw or Swanson comes to clean his wounds, change his bandages, or generally check up on him. Most of the others are too busy with other things. Like what? Being stuck here? The women aren't allowed to fight—Dutch's order. No woman was going to help them kill.
If only he had been strong enough to kill those damn wolves. Every time he wants to prove himself to Dutch, Hosea, or even Arthur, the universe turns against him and throws something unpredictable his way. Including saddling him with a goddamn kid. He isn't ready for that responsibility, yet Abigail insists he must be a father to a boy he's 100% sure isn't his.
Why won't the universe let him protect other people but let other people protect him?
Why?
It seems as if he fell asleep because suddenly he felt something soft on his forehead. He slowly opened his eyes and saw Abigail, and after a little while, he even saw Jack.
Not now...
"Hey, John, how are you?" Abigail asked softly. John sighed but replied anyway, "I'm fine, just a little dizzy."
Abigail turned to face Jack, who was sitting on the extra chair next to the bed. Abigail settled by John's head while Jack took a seat by his feet. "Dear, would you ask for some stew for your father?" she asked gently.
John wasn't in the mood to argue with Abigail about this. She would never accept his refusals. What was the point? He was too tired, too weak, too sick to fight it.
Jack quickly nodded and jumped off the chair, walking outside the cabin.
"Arthur and Charles found quite a few deer—two at least. Enough to feed the twelve of us."
John slowly turned his head to look at her. "Twelve?"
She touched the bandage on his right eye. "Yes. The first day we came here, Dutch and Arthur decided to find you and Micah. They first found Micah, who had discovered a homestead. There was a woman named Sadie Adler living there, but the O'Driscolls had attacked her home and murdered her husband. They decided to bring her here as the house burned down. When Arthur and Javier found you the next day, Arthur went with Dutch, Javier, Micah, and a few others to the camp of Colm O'Driscoll. Apparently, he's here too. After that job, they captured an O'Driscoll; Arthur probably did it for blackmail."
"What about Davey? Mac? Sean?" John asked, and Abigail bit her lip at the question.
"Davey didn't make it, and neither did Jenny. We don't know about Sean or Mac."
"O'Driscolls here too? Luck really isn't on our side." John snickered, but quickly stopped as the pressure hurt his stomach, which radiated down to his bad leg.
"And is the captured O'Driscoll of any use?" John asked. Abigail shrugged.
"I don't know. I'm more focused on taking care of you, Jack, and the other woman. We're not in the best shape. But hopefully, this train robbery will at least be worth it. You know, Hosea didn't agree with Dutch."
John raised his eyebrows. That's new.
"Did he now? Why?"
"Apparently, Hosea was more focused on getting us out of here and staying under the radar, rather than drawing more attention to the gang, which I agree with. But Dutch went ahead with his plans anyway. I'm not sure what to think about it yet. I just want to get out of the snow quickly. Any longer, and you'll probably not get any better. Swanson has been a great help, and even Miss Grimshaw, but we're on limited rations."
They fell silent for a moment, looking at each other. John's mouth felt dry. Just as Abigail started to lean in, the door suddenly opened, and Abigail straightened up.
"Mama, I got some food, and Miss Grimshaw is helping me too!" Jack said cheerfully. Abigail smiled at her son and at Grimshaw. "Thank you," she said, placing her hands awkwardly on her lap.
Miss Grimshaw held a bowl of stew and walked towards John. "Abigail, would you mind helping John sit up?"
She nodded and stood up, slowly pulling John into a sitting position. John groaned in pain, and Abigail sat at the edge of the bed to keep a good hold on him while Grimshaw also sat at the edge, facing them.
"Do you think you can eat without help?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. She probably already knew the answer but wanted to give John the chance to try.
"I'd like to try." he replied truthfully.
Grimshaw nodded and handed him the bowl. He gratefully accepted it and slowly began to eat.
It took a lot longer, but after ten minutes or more, he finished the stew. It was a bit dry, lacking any real taste. Grimshaw and Jack had left a little while ago. Jack was tired, and Grimshaw had volunteered to bring him to bed, leaving Abigail and John alone again. It wasn't that John absolutely despised her—she was different, beautiful even—but he knew he wasn't the right one for her.
She was only going to get her heart broken by him. He showed her, told her that, but she was so stubborn. He actually liked that about Abigail. If Jack weren't in the picture, maybe he could've pictured a future with her. But now, with Jack, he couldn't. It was impossible to ask Abigail to give Jack away—she would skin him alive for even suggesting it.
But if Jack never existed, never happened, he could've been something with Abigail. She was beautiful, definitely what he'd want in a woman, in a wife.
But now... they could always try, but there would always be trouble with Jack. John isn't ready for a son or a family. A girlfriend? A wife? That is different. They don't have any responsibility towards a child. But now, she does, and he doesn't. He will refuse to accept responsibility for that boy.
That is the main problem in their relationship right now. Shewantshim to be responsible for Jack, but herefusesbecause he just can't believe it's his son. It's impossible.
"How are you?" Her question brought him back to reality.
"I'm fine. You?" he replied, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. She was lacking sleep and getting skinnier, and she didn't need to be any skinnier. She was already perfect enough.
"I guess... I'm scared. I just hope we can actually find a safe place, somewhere where we can live in peace. But I know it's impossible, especially in this gang."
John agreed with her. They're outlaws, always running from the law. They will never really have a peaceful life, not with the bounties on their heads, especially Dutch's, which was undoubtedly the highest.
"You know you can always leave, right? Dutch would understand, Abigail." John shrugged.
Abigail sighed. "It's okay to leave. At least then you can focus on Jack and even be safer. No doubt people will still be after you to try to get to the gang, but I don't think it will happen, actually." John explained.
Abigail shook her head and stood up from the edge of the bed, then sat back down in the chair, facing John. "I can't..." she whispered.
"I still want you in Jack's life. You're his father, and he needs a father in his life, John. I can't just leave."
John furrowed his eyebrows. "I ain't that boy's father." he hissed back at her.
"Why won't you accept this? This is getting old, Marston. You're his father whether you like it or not."
John closed his eyes. Here she goes again. Damn it, he really wasn't up for this today, or tomorrow, or even the next twenty years. Why couldn't she just drop it? Even if it was just for a week, couldn't she let him recover in peace? For now...
"Please, Abigail—"
"No! I'm so sick of you refusing to benotresponsible for Jack."
"Abigail."
She went quiet when she heard his tone. He was getting irritated. Seriously, he loved this woman so damn much, but she just needed to calm down.
"Abigail, let's talk about this later. Let me recover first, please. You're making my head hurt. Just... please go away. I want to sleep, in peace, alone."
John refused to look at her. He noticed her movements, heard her walking away, and the door opening, followed by the sound of the wind before the wooden door closed it off, away from him. He let out a deep sigh. This was going to be one hell of an adventure, he thought, and laid back down. Despite the pain, he needed assistance, but he was stubborn and had essentially kicked Abigail out, for now.
Once he was as comfortable as he could be in the not-so-comfortable bed, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about...