Chapter Text
John's never been one to care if people like him or not. It's never been something that's important to him. Most people probably don't like him. Mainly due to the fact that he only knows most people because he robbed or scammed them. The only people he cares about are the gang. Lately it feels like they don't care about him either, though. It's something he's used to.
He used to care what some people thought at least. He cared what Abigail thought. He still does—just not in the same way anymore. Just a few years ago, he would've done anything to impress her. He tried his best to make her laugh, and get her to notice him. Usually he just ended up making a fool out of himself. It somehow still worked though. They were happy for a long time. Happy until John managed to screw it all up.
The thing is, John never wanted a kid. Raising a child isn't anything he knows about. Especially raising one in the life they live. Being a father isn't something he knows how to do. John barely remembers his own father. Dutch and Hosea are the closest people he has to family. They are his family. But is that really the kind of life this kid deserves? One where all you know how to do is rob, lie, and kill?
Deep down he knows that the kid is probably his—as much as he wishes that weren't true. He does feel guilty that Abigail does most of the work with Jack, and the rest of the gang does more than John, too. He's tried to make himself care more. He just doesn't think it's something he's capable of.
The love he has for Abigail isn't the same as it once was either. They were so young when they first got together. They're still so young now. Abigail's changed so much since then, since she had Jack. John's changed a lot too.
Well maybe the problem is that he hasn't changed at all, really. Abigail's turned into a wonderful mother. She's always been a strong woman, and she does everything she can for the boy.
John doesn't want to change. He's happy with his life the way it's been going. He isn't an idiot, as much as everyone likes to believe otherwise. He's picked up on the hints that Hosea's been dropping. He knows the older man thinks that John should take Abigail and Jack and leave the gang. Why should he? This isn't the life that John wants. To live on some farm, and work a normal job. That's not what he's built for. This is the life he's built for. Abigail can take it or leave it as far as he's concerned. She knew what she was signing up for.
The problem is that the sounds of Jack's cries haunt him. Sometimes it feels like the kid cries just to spite John. Just to deprive him of sleep and taunt him constantly. He can feel everybody's judging eyes on him constantly. Sometimes he feels like he wants to crawl out of his own skin.
The only time Abigail talks to him anymore is to yell at him. Or slap him. Usually both. It feels like that woman lives to embarrass John. The things he says to her are probably too harsh, and completely uncalled for. He can't help it though. He feels like a petulant child when she starts lecturing him , and he usually ends up acting like one too.
It's like Abigail can sense when he's in a half-decent mood and wants to relax, and she just has to come ruin it.
John is sitting by the fire about to take a sip of whiskey when she approaches him. He was actually having a good day. He robbed a rich couple in town earlier, and had a few drinks in the saloon before he came back to camp. All he wants to do now is eat his dinner, and have a decent night's sleep.
Abigail marches over in front of him, glaring down at him with her arms crossed in front of her. "Would it kill you to help me just once?"
"Maybe."
Abigail scoffs at him. What does she expect? It's not like John's just going to wake up one day and want to be a father. He doesn't know why she keeps trying.
"The boy's been cryin' all day, John. I'm exhausted." She pleads. "I'm beggin' you."
"Beg somebody else." John says as he stands up from the fire. "You know I ain't any good at this fatherin' stuff."
"I don't know because you won't even try."
John stomps past her and and into his tent. There's no point in arguing with her, and he can feel everybody's eyes on them again. They all stop what they're doing to watch the latest installment of the John and Abigail show. Every single time.
"You're a sorry excuse for a man, John Marston!" She calls after him.
What else is new?
John wishes he could try and be better. For Abigail, and for Jack. For Dutch and Hosea, too. Even Arthur. He just can't. He doesn't want to be a father, or a husband for that matter.
When Abigail first found out she was pregnant, Hosea had a long talk with John. He told him all about the responsibilities that would come with being a father. How he needed to grow up, and be there for Abigail and the baby. All John wanted to do was run. He never signed up for this. He never meant for Abigail to get pregnant. John knows that he wasn't the only one that Abigail had been with when they first got together. For the most part it didn't bother him, aside from the comments from Uncle reminding him about it every other day. It didn't bother John until she got pregnant. How could he possibly know for sure that the boy was his? That was when everything changed.
Being a father isn't something that John is meant for. Every time he holds him, the boy starts crying. He doesn't know how to change a diaper, or comfort the kid when he starts screaming. Honestly Arthur's probably more of a father to the kid than John is. If that's what Arthur wants to do, then that's fine with John. He can go and marry Abigail himself for all John cares.
As much as everyone probably thinks otherwise, it does hurt when John thinks about it too much. They used to be happy. John still cares about Abigail, and he cares about Jack too. You'd have to be evil not to care about a baby.
John peels his clothes off and flops onto his cot. He wishes he had grabbed the bottle of whiskey he had before storming off to his tent. He could use a drink now.
Instead he pulls his hat down to cover his eyes and tries to fall asleep. Abigail creeps into his tent at some point, probably to try to talk to him about the boy again, but John ignores her and pretends to be asleep.
The next morning he's woken up by the sounds of a baby wailing. It sounds more like a banshee screeching if you ask John.
Is it childish to hide in his tent until he hears the screaming stop? Probably, but John doesn't really care. So he waits until he hears Abigail and Miss Grimshaw calm the baby down before he pulls yesterday's clothes back on and grabs his hat and satchel and tries to sneak past the women unnoticed.
They're still distracted by Jack, so he's able to avoid them before he hops on his horse. He greets the mare with a scratch on the head and a sugar cube before mounting her and riding away. He barely greets Arthur, who's keeping watch at the camps entrance, before riding away.
He doesn't even have a plan for what he's doing. All he knows is that he wants away from everybody. He spends most of his time away from camp these days. His time is mostly spent drinking and getting into fights with the locals. Maybe it's not the healthiest outlet for his stress, Hosea would definitely tell him so, but trying (and failing) to play poker, and getting drunk in the middle of the day beats hearing another one of Abigail's lectures.
Dutch and Hosea have been gone for a couple of days now. They're scoping out a possible lead on a train robbery. John should probably spend more time at camp, considering they're already down two men, but he can barely stand the little time he does spend there. Abigail has Arthur to take care of her now, so what's the use?
He could probably make the trip to the saloon with his eyes closed at this point. They're in New Mexico now. The town near their camp is called Roswell. John doesn't expect they'll be staying very long. There aren't many opportunities for them to make money around here. It's another little livestock town. Just like the last few they've passed through. Dutch keeps coming up with grand plans for them. He's been talking about buying land for years by now. It's been his dream for as long as John can remember.
John heads straight for the saloon as soon as he arrives in town. The bartender is his best friend at this point, considering they've seen each other practically everyday since the gang's arrival. The only time they speak is when John orders more alcohol and when he pays.
The bartender is a short older man, who's mostly bald, and has a build that suggests that he, too, drinks more than he should. As soon as he sees John he grabs a glass and pours him some whiskey. John slides into the empty seat at the bar and thanks the older man. It's probably way too earlier in the day to be getting wasted, but it's part of John's routine by now. What else is there for him to do? It's not like there's much money to be made around here.
After a few hours, and a few more drinks, John doesn't feel any better than he did the day before. The saloon is starting to get busier now. The farmers and ranch hands are starting to file in now that their work days are over. Which is John's cue to leave, and go somewhere he can sulk in peace. He isn't even sure why he's so miserable. Maybe it's just the fact that he makes a bigger fool of himself every single day without even trying. Maybe he was born this way.
John pays the bartender and leaves him a generous tip, as usual. And if he ends up leaving with some of the money from the pockets of the man sat next to him at the bar? That's nobody else's business.
The sun is starting to set over the small town when he exits the saloon. It's pretty, the way the golden light reflects off the dilapidated buildings. It reminds him of when he was a boy. The only memories he has is walking through a town similar to this with his Pa. He must've been really young, probably five or six at the most. He doesn't know why he's would remember that now. Maybe the whiskey just has him feeling more sentimental than usual.
John wanders back to his horse, and he doesn't realize how much he's drank until he stumbles as he slips his foot into the stirrups. This is starting to become his new normal. It's not something that John's proud of, but if everybody thinks he's a deadbeat father, figures he might as well embrace it.
As they trot down the dirt path, John thinks about how easy it would be to turn his back on the gang and never come back. A few years ago he would've thought that was the most absurd idea ever, but lately it's felt like a good one. He can't hardly stand to be in camp anymore. It feels like Dutch knows he's been thinking about these things, because he's been keeping John on a much tighter leash than usual. The only reason he's been able to sneak out of camp so much lately is because he and Hosea have been so distracted with this train job.
Would they even come looking for him? Maybe they would just think he died. It'd be better for everyone that way. Maybe Jack would be better off thinking he had a dead father than one who didn't want him.
John pushes the thoughts away once he hears Daisy huff in displeasure. His grip on her reins is so tight that his knuckles are turning white. He gives her an apologetic pat on the head in response.
He's so distracted by his sulking that he doesn't notice the two men approaching him at first. Not until they're on either side of him and yanking him from Daisy's back. John falls and lands straight on his back, with the two men glaring over him. The fall knocked all of the air out of his chest and his vision goes fuzzy for a second. The larger of the two men slams his boot into John's side. The other reaches down and grabs a fistful of John's shirt, pulling John up towards him.
"I think you have somethin' of mine." The man growls. John can feel the man's hot breath in his face.
"I don't…know what the hell you're talkin' about." John wheezes, which causes the man to slam his fist into John's jaw. The impact makes John's teeth slam together inside his mouth and he can taste metal. He feels his head being slammed into the ground and another blow to his face, this time landing right on his nose. He hears the sickening crunch of bones. It isn't the first time he's had his nose broken, but it never gets less painful.
The other man yanks John's satchel away from his body and dumps the bag's contents into the dirt. He still has no idea who the hell these guys are. The thing is, he's robbed a lot of people. It's hard to keep track of them all…
The man pockets all of John's cash, and pretty much everything else in his bag too. John tries to reach for his gun but the man who is still holding John on the ground notices and slams his foot onto John's hand to stop him. He pulls his arm back to swing again but John spits a mixture of blood and saliva into the man's face before he can land the punch. The man rears back and John manages to free himself from the man's grip and reach his revolver in the holster on his hip. Before the other man can reach for his own gun, John fires a bullet into his skull. He whips around and fires again, this time at the other man. The bullet lands in his chest and he crumples to the ground.
John's lungs feel like they've deflated completely as he pulls himself up from the ground. He picks up his bag and collects his money and belongings from the corpse before spitting on him for good measure. He whistles for Daisy, who hasn't gone far. She's never been scared of gun fire. John is just grateful she didn't run and abandon him completely. He pulls himself back into the stirrups and begins the journey back to camp. Now Abigail is really gonna be pissed.
John reaches up and wipes away the blood that's pouring from his nose and flinches when his arm makes contact with the broken bones. Hopefully Miss Grimshaw can set it back in place when he gets back.
Bill is keeping watch when John returns, and he barely spares John a glance as he rides past him. John hitches Daisy to the post near the camp's entrance and gives her a sugar cube before he limps into camp. Abigail charges toward him as soon as she catches sight of him.
"And where the hell have you bee—" Her face turns from rage to utter disbelief once she sees John's face and the blood covering it.
"What the hell have you done now?"
"Can't you just leave me alone for one goddamn minute?" John hisses.
Abigail reaches out to try to touch his face but John shoves past her. He just wants to go to bed. His nose still burns and he's pretty sure his ribs are broken.
Miss Grimshaw rushes over to examine him and she quickly ushers him over to the wagon where they keep all of their medical supplies. She lectures him as she washes his face with a rag, not bothering to be gentle at all. John tries to reach for the bottle of whiskey that she's using to clean his wounds with but she smacks his hand away.
"I think you've had quite enough that for one night Mr. Marston."
John huffs but he doesn't fight with her.
"When are you gonna grow up?"
"I guess never."
Miss Grimshaw tuts in disappointment as she examines his broken nose. "I'm gonna have to set this."
John nods and squeezes his eyes shut. This part never gets any easier. The sound of the bones being snapped back into place is just as disturbing as the sound it made when it was broken. "You're lucky you don't need any stitches." She observes.
"Don't feel so lucky."
Abigail appears behind Miss Grimshaw, holding the baby in her arms. He's fast asleep, which is a rare sight.
"So this is what you've been up to while I've been taking care of the baby? Gettin' yourself beaten and robbed?"
"I didn't get robbed." John retorts. He made sure he got all of his money back.
"Miss Roberts, I think this can wait until the morning. He needs to rest." Miss Grimshaw interrupts. Abigail turns on her heels and stomps away.
"A man deserves to bleed in peace." Miss Grimshaw tells him. She's always had a soft spot for John, he has no idea why. He put her through hell when he was young. He still does, really.
"Thanks." John mumbles.
"I'm not even gonna ask."
"Is Dutch back yet?"
"Not yet. You know he's gonna have a fit when he sees you." Susan tells him. "Now really, when are you gonna grow up?"
John sighs and Miss Grimshaw sits down beside him.
"You have a woman who loves you and a beautiful baby. Why can't you see that? Why do you insist on actin' like a child?"
It's nothing that John hasn't heard before. He doesn't even have a good response. Why does he?
"I…I don't know. I'm not cut out to be a father. I don't know anything about it."
"Nobody does. Do you think Dutch and Hosea had it all figured out? They figured it out as they went, just like everybody does."
Dutch and Hosea have always made it look so easy. Even Arthur does. They just have a natural instinct for taking care of people and knowing the right things to say. John never has, nor has he really wanted to.
"I never asked for any of this." John mumbles.
"Well too bad, 'cause you have it."
John tilts his head down so that his hat covers his face. The pain hasn't subsided in his face but at least it isn't pouring blood anymore.
"Sometimes when I look at you, I still see the scrawny, flea ridden little boy that Dutch brought to camp. I could barely get you to say two words those first few months."
John can still remember how terrified he was when he first joined the gang. Back then it wasn't really a gang. Just Dutch, Hosea, Susan, and Arthur. He didn't think he could trust any of them. Even after Dutch and Hosea saved his life. He can still see the scar around his neck sometimes. He really thought that was the end of him before Dutch showed up.
"Sometimes I still feel like it, too." John admits.
"You'll figure it out. I know you can be a good father, and a good husband. You just need to be a man and try." She pats him on the shoulder and departs into her tent.
John hears what she's saying, but doesn't it matter what he wants? This isn't the life he wants to live. The words 'husband' and 'father' aren't things that he wants to be. It feels more like a noose being wrapped tighter and tighter every time he breathes. This whole situation is suffocating. So he snags the bottle of whiskey and limps into his own tent. His ribs and his face are both still throbbing in pain, so he takes a big swig from the bottle and tries to get comfortable in his cot. He doesn't even bother changing out of his clothes. He doesn't think he's capable of lifting his arms up at the moment.
John knows that Dutch and Hosea will be upset with him when they come back. It's not like that's anything new. Hopefully they'll have a job for them upon their return. Something to distract John from the mess that is Abigail and Jack.
Thankfully Abigail listens to Miss Grimshaw and she doesn't bother John for the rest of the night. Not that he gets any rest. He spends the whole night tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable with his injured ribs. Eventually the whiskey helps him to fall asleep.
Dutch and Hosea still aren't back when he wakes up in the morning. It's a bit unusual for them to be gone for this long, but John isn't worried. They'll be back soon enough. It's still early enough that most people in camp are still asleep. Only Miss Grimshaw and Tilly are awake. Uncle is passed out on the ground next to the fire, and John has to step over him to reach the coffee.
His head is still pounding from the beating he took yesterday, and it still hurts to breathe too. Tilly ends up joining him by the fire and it hurts every time she makes him laugh. John tells her about the men that tried to rob him and she makes sure to let him know that'll she's never gonna let him live it down. John knows he should've been more careful, should've been paying more attention, but he has a lot on his mind recently.
He promises to take Tilly into Roswell. It's been a while since they took a trip together, just the two of them. Tilly is like his little sister. They grew up together. John would do anything for her, and he knows she would do the same. It feels like they've barely seen each other lately. Grimshaw keeps Tilly buried in work most of the time, and John's been burying himself in liquor, so they haven't been able to spend much time together.
They sit by the fire and reminisce for a while before everyone else begins to stir. The sound of Jack wailing interrupts John and Tilly's conversation. Abigail picks him up to comfort him immediately. John's chest feels tight as he watches Abigail care for Jack. He knows that he should try to help. Miss Grimshaws words from the night before run through his head.
He doesn't have to worry about it though, because Arthur is already rushing over to help before John can even finish the thought. Good. Great. John couldn't be happier. Who needs John when they have Arthur to swoop in and take care of everything?
Tilly gives John a sympathetic look before he stomps off back into his tent. Why is his life such a joke? Why was it John who had to go and knock somebody up and not Arthur? Clearly he's more cut out for it than John ever could be.
He gets his things together and he and Tilly ride into town. What John really wants to do is go get good and drunk, but he won't drag Tilly along with him.
"So…how have you been doing with everything?" Tilly asks him once they're far enough away from camp.
"Fine."
"I know you, John Marston. I know when something's botherin' you."
John blows out a deep breath. There's no point in trying to lie to Tilly. She can see right through him. "Abigail's pissed off at me. Arthur can barely stand to look at me. I swear the kid hates me, too. Nothin' out of the ordinary."
"Nobody hates you. Especially not Abigail. She loves you, you fool. That's why she's angry at you. She loves you and she needs help."
John could've guessed exactly what she was gonna say. It's the same thing that everybody else tells him.
"How do I know the kid is mine?"
Tilly scoffs at him. "Not this again."
"I'm serious. How do I know? We all know I'm not the only one she's been with."
"You know it hasn't been that way for a long time. You just don't want to believe it." Tilly says. "I'm worried about you."
"Why?"
"I barely see you anymore—and when I do see you, you're drunk. You're almost as bad as Swanson these days."
"That ain't true."
"I've seen a lot of men ruin their lives over drink. I don't want you to be another one." Tilly murmurs.
John knows that she's right. He knows he drinks too much, and avoids everybody in camp, but it isn't like he has much reason to be there.
Once they reach town Tilly goes off on her own to pick up some things for camp. She tells him she'll make them some money too. John wanders around for a bit. He doesn't really have anything to buy, and there's not much activity in town. It's small, and most of the men are still working. He ends up stopping at the gunsmith to pick up some ammo and he stops by the general store to grab some cigarettes too.
The two of them meet up outside of the saloon when they're done. Tilly ended up pick pocketing some creep in town. She's always been good at holding her own.
John wants to head into the saloon and have a drink, but after a stern look from Tilly they end up heading back to camp. Thankfully nobody sneaks up on them this time. Tilly shows him the necklace she grabbed from the man in town and John tells her how nice it looks. The ride back is uneventful. Tilly's always been a calming force in his life. She's always been able to read him better than anybody else.
Dutch and Hosea have returned when John and Tilly arrive back at camp. Dutch takes one look at John's face and John can see the quiet disappointment in his face. The way his brows are furrowed and his mouth presses into a thin line. John knows they'll have to speak later, but Dutch leaves it alone for the time being. There's another person with them. Miss Grimshaw is hovering over the man and John can barely see him.
The man looks…rough. He's just skin and bones, and his long dark hair is in a matted looking ponytail down his back. Miss Grimshaw is fussing over him and forcing a bowl of stew into his hands, but he looks sort of terrified.
"Who's that?" John asks Dutch.
"We found him on our way back. I think his names Javier. He doesn't speak much english." Dutch tells him. John just hums in response. He doesn't have much interest in making new friends.
John and Tilly grab their own bowls of stew and sit down at the campfire. John keeps his eyes locked on his bowl, trying his best to avoid Abigail's gaze. She has the baby in her arms and is gently bouncing him as he sniffles. All the kid is cry it seems. Arthur ends up going over to hold Jack so Abigail eats. Of course he does.
Hosea manages to coax Javier over to the fire but he still doesn't say much. Tilly gives him a small smile which he returns. John doesn't spare him a glance.
After he finishes his food he puts his bowl in with the other dirty dishes and goes to sit in the grass near the small creek on the outskirts of camp. He likes it out here, it's quiet and everyone leaves him alone for the most part. He tries to skip rocks, but he quickly gives up when the rocks just splash straight down into the water. He's never been any good at it, Arthur's tried to teach him many times, but he just can't get it right. It's just another thing that Arthur will always be better at than John.
He hears footsteps behind him after a few minutes, and turns around to see Abigail behind him.
"John."
John pretends he doesn't hear her. Maybe she'll go away if he doesn't engage.
"Listen, John. You and me is one thing…but I really need your help with the boy. I can't do this all by myself."
"You ain't by yourself." John retorts. "Why don't you just ask Arthur to help you?"
"What's that supposed to mean? You know it ain't like that."
"Maybe it should be."
"What the hell's the matter with you? How are you gonna pretend like we don't exist one minute, and then act jealous the next? Do you care about us or not?"
"I don't." John huffs. "Do whatever you want. Go and be with with Arthur. 'S probably his kid anyway."
The slap that Abigail gives him was probably deserved after that one. It's hard enough that John's head gets knocked sideways. She gives him a look of pure hatred before she stomps away from him. Right back to where Arthur is bouncing the baby on his knee.
All eyes are on him as John makes his way back over to his tent, his face is burning, from both the slap and the humiliation. He snags a bottle of whiskey before he goes in. Hopefully it'll help him to forget this day.
"Show's over." John yells over his shoulder before closing up his tent. He catches a glimpse of Javier's dark eyes following him. That's great, just another nosy bastard for Abigail to to embarrass him in front of.