Thought Experiments

As John said his goodbyes to both his son and his wife, he reflected on everything that had gone on throughout the year. From getting shot by Bills lackeys, to killing the bastard along with Javi, then Dutch and now all this? Knowing he didn’t have much time left, John couldn’t help but think back on how the day had started. Something that was almost impossible to imagine, given how many bodies now littered his farm…..

1911- Beecher’s Hope

John was busy within his own head as he walked into the barn, taking a moment to appreciate watching his son shining leather with a brush. Something he hadn’t gotten to enjoy in a long time. Peace. “Hey Jack.”

The boy in question kept his eyes on his work, but that was to be expected. ”Hey Pa.” John walked over and stood beside his son as he asked if he needed a hand. He didn’t. 

“You know, you’re real good with them tools-“ John began to stare his son in the eyes as he kept on working. “You’ll make this land real nice one day. Me and your mother, we’ll do our part but by the time your turn comes, hell, this could be the nicest farm in the county.” That finally got Jack to look up from his work.

”Maybe Pa.” His voice spoke with a quiet doubt, not that his father picked up on it. “You just have to learn how to shoot straight, less you get eaten by some brute of an animal.”

”Very funny pa.”

A puff of smoke filled the small barn as John, sitting down, stared at his only child. “Thank you son.” Another pause in the conversation, as both were content to smoke and work, respectively. “Soon it’ll be quail season, we should have some fun then.”

Jack looked up from his work again, this time putting down his tools. “Is there anything you don’t like shooting Pa?” 

For a moment he thought that he’d upset the boy, but a small quirk in his smile clued John in. Another puff of smoke, another answer. “Well I ain’t met the thing yet, but as soon as I do I’ll let you know. You can even put it in one of them books you read.” 

“yeah maybe I’ll do that, an expose on the day the great John Marston stopped shooting.” Choked laughter ensued as John fought to get a grip on his breathe. Damned lungs. “Well I ain’t no literary man but I don’t think that’ll sell. People like shooting in them things. Books.”

”I think you may be right there Pa….” At this point, neither of them knew what to say, and so both got back to working. And smoking of course. And of course, John couldn’t stand the silence. “So uhh… you ever hear talk about them machines that can make a man fly?”

”Well sure Pa, most folk know about that. You know they’re going to be bringing one of them machines around the country next year for a demonstration? One of them machines can turn man into angels.”

”One of them machines can turn men into angels…..” John looked down at his dead cigarette, contemplating the thought of it all. But the quiet wouldn’t last for long. It never does.

”John come here. John, come here quick!” Jack raised an eyebrow at the yelling but his father kept quiet, knowing better. That man would worry over a broken bottle of liquor more than a pack of hungry wolves at their gates. “John come here quick!” Jack looked at his father again, who only sighed before gesturing for Jack to follow as they both saw to dear Uncle. 

Stepping outside, they found Uncle with a eye-glass of all things, but before John could comment on it, he saw what Uncle saw. A sinking feeling found its way into Johns gut as he looked upon an army, one with a goal he knew only to well. John stayed by Uncle as he addressed his only son. “Jack, go into the house. Lock all the doors. Whatever happens, don’t come outside. You hear me? Whatever happens, you don’t peep your head out or try nothing. You understand?”

Jack looked confused but agreed to his father’s demands. John looked back towards the army and back towards Jack. “Come here son.” As John hugged his boy he knew he didn’t have much time anymore, but he still had time for this. After a few seconds he let his boy go and once he saw the door close behind him, John finally his back on his farm and faced the rest of the world.

”Well old man, looks like things are going to get settled once and for all.”

”So it seems… do try and keep up rock farmer.” And with that, all hell would break loose….

The noise outside had stopped. It was quiet, too quiet. By now, they had probably surrounded the barn. They all knew he was still in there. The God forsaken bastards. Not that it mattered, even if they hadn’t surrounded him there wasn’t an escape for him. Not this time. John took a breathe as he held his barns doors closed, taking one last moment to contemplate what he was about to do. An ache in his knees convinced him to push those doors open and fire at will.

He did get a shot off. But he also got killed so maybe that wasn’t so worth it. But as he took his last breathes, John kneeled and relaxed knowing that his family would finally be free. It was done. All of it. Even the sight of old Edgar Ross didn’t deter his smile…. 

But the slap of snow sure did. Opening his eyes, John found himself sprawled on the floor, trapped in the middle of a blizzard and being eyed up by a strange man with a tophat. Opening his mouth to- question? Say something, anything? Well, whatever he was going to say it didn't much matter since his lips didn't want to move. Damn cold. 

The man continued staring at John for another few moments, before abruptly shaking his head. "Mr Marston I must admit I thought our last encounter would be the end of it but it would seem a good friend of mine wasn't satisfied with that, decided to take a loan out on your behalf and here we are." The stranger proceeded to wave his hands in a so and so manner. Not that John was focusing on his hands, still too confused as to how he had found himself in the snow. "Now don't you worry about the cold John, while your 'cowboy' attire doesn't do much for you, well, I'm certain you'll be fine. Some folk will undoubtedly come looking for you. But that's not my business, never has been, always been too busy collecting." The man grabbed a cigar out his pocket and, against all odds, lit it even through the hail. "Oh and a word of advice? I believe your son would urge you to take things slow. Remember Mr Marston, whatever you do from here could have....." At this the man sent out a puff of smoke. "Unintended Consequences." He had finally found his ability to speak, but his shouting over who this man was or what had happened to his family went unanswered. All the man did was smile pleasantly. "Damn you!".The man just stared at him, seemingly unfazed. "You already have."

Just as John went for his revolver a great howl filled the air, forcing John to look around at-

a pack of wolves. Glancing back, if only to confirm that that damned man had disappeared, John readied both his hand and his revolver. Stumbling to to his feet, th ex outlaw looked on at a sight that seemed earlier family 

”Well then you old dog… easy there.…” The beast trying to grab at his leg forced him to shut up and focus on his immediate priority, survival. John did the only thing he could by putting a bullet into the first beast he saw. Not that that helped matters, seeing as he only had one revolver and eight wolves.

“Well shit.” Moving like a man possessed, the cowboy focused on making it towards the surrounding mountains cliffsides and took to using his five remaining shots sparingly, only going for the wolves closest to the edge. But this strategy had a flaw, or maybe it had many flaws but at the very least it had one that’d end up biting him in the leg. and the face. and the chest.

He weren't allowed to miss.

But of course, trying to shoot at seven fast animals while his hand was half frozen over while also having just gone through the shootout of his life, John wasn’t particularly ready for this particular encounter, a reality the wolves took advantage of. A swipe at his face and ribs along with a bite into his knee later, John found himself having either shot or thrown off the last of the wolves off the cliff. Not that it stopped John from towards a familiar rockside, this time surrounded by the bodies of dead wolves and cawing vultures. To put it bluntly, things weren’t looking good. John made to get up, but his half eaten leg made him reconsider.

TO BE CONTINUED