Wolf Bitten
1899, May 20th- Ambarino
Sounds of howling woke him up quick, that or the cold- A large gust of wind hit him head on- definitely the cold. Looking around John found himself in the middle of nowhere surrounded by wolves once again. Confused more than anything, the rancher grabbed for his revolver and started shooting at those nearest to his person. Once again he tried going towards the cliffsides and yet again them wolves followed him. Inching further and further through the cliff, John got to work on killing the bastards. A shot here, a kick there, it all seemed to be going fine till his half eaten knee gave out on him. This time he was awake while the few that still lived started ripping into his chest, all fighting with each other to get the most out of him. This time he had to go through choking on his own blood once again. This time he-
"Ah dammit! I broke the goddamn wheel." Arthur's gravely voice was what ended his foray through his own mind, bless that big broad sholdered bastard, but having to wait for Bill to be repeatedly told that no, Mr Morgan did not need help and yes, Mr Williamson and Mr Escuela really should just keep going on without him did remind John of how much of an idiot they all were back than. Breaking off into isolated groups when half the country wanted them dead and gone.
Damn morons.
Luckily, things got back to moving real quick after that. Besides the odd bump in the road John had a pleasent time being a layabout, just quietly listening to Bill and Javiers conversation as their wagon dragged them ever closer to Horshoe Overlook.
"Why'd you leave Mexico anyhow?"
"Hmph."
"Well?" Javier continued to ignore the man much to Bill's frustration. Taking a small puff out of his cigarette, the Mexican kept at ignoring their driver, which was kind of funny. At least to John it was, or at least, it was funny watching it happen to Bill. Lucky for all of them that John, while being in the body of a brash twenty six year old, had the awareness of someone kicking forties door down. "Reckon Javier doesn't like talking about it much. Same ways you get whenever someone questions you 'bout the military."
"That's different!" Bill couldn't help but shout, his voice grating on both of his companions. Man never learnt how to keep his voice down. "Maybe your on to something amigo." Taking another puff from his cigarette Javier continued, "But enough of all that, how are you feeling John?" Before he could reply Bill just had to butt in. "Yeah, you ready to do some real work yet Marston?" The sarcasm wasn't lost on John, not that he took it to heart.
"I don't know Bill, maybe another couple weeks of having folk shine my shoes and doing up my hair will do me some good. The hell you take me for, I ain't Uncle!" That got all of them to chuckle for a good while, long enough for any more conversation to die down as they pulled up to the rest of the gangs wagons. Everyone was quiet, all them too busy watching as Dutch got up on one of their wagons, ready to start spewing his regular nonsense.
"Everybody! Look at us, all of us here, in this paradise! All of us together off that mountain, all of us alive! I.... I am proud of you all for keeping the faith, for believing in me, for believing in each other! Now I know we've got a lot of work to do but if we can survive that mountain than I believe- No- I know we can live out here!" A wave of shouting and hollering replied to his words and, at least from my viewpoint, it actually looked like Dutch's eyes were twinkling. "Thank you, all of you but for now I need everyone to listen to Mrs Grimshaw as we set this place up, all aside from Bill who'll be guarding the perimeter-" A nod from Williamson confirmed he understood, "-and Mr Pierson who will get started on setting up his workspace. Oh and do get your pots ready because I am going to go and get us some real food."
Now that took him for surprise, wasnt usual for Dutch to do any real bit of work, but Hosea wasnt here yet so... made some sense. Admittedly, that speech was shorter than he remembered it usually being but John wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dragging his corpse off the wagon, John got to helping Javier unload what little supply they had on their wagon. Mostly just blankets and pieces for cots, but that was probably for the best considering he was out of breathe by the time they finished. Finding himself a nice tree to lay on, sat down and watched as the rest of the camp worked. Thoughts of his short dream popped through his mind, not that he pondered it much. Wouldn't be the first time his head showed him what could have been, and if his own memory of the year held through, it would be far from the last of these 'dreams'. Fiddling with his hat, John started gently prodding at his still recovering knee, anxious to go and actually be productive, not that his knee was going to hurry up or nothing. "Things could be worse though, could've been my gun arm that got ripped into...." And with those happy thoughts over with John got up again and went to helping with what little he could. Whether that be helping set up parts of Dutch's camp or helping Pierson lay out his table, by the end of it nobody could really say that he weren't doing his share, not that John cared about reputation of that kind anymore. Going straight does things to you, he supposed.
Anywho, after being told sternly by both Mrs Grimshaw and Abigail to get some rest, John found himself sitting alone at their old poker table, watching as the actual setting up of the camp was done by more able folk. Boredom quickly took over, seeing as John had been living a life as a rancher for years at this point, he wasn't used to a great deal of downtime. Made him uncomfortable. Nauseous even. "You sure I can't help with nothing?"
Most didn't bother stopping their work to respond, save for Karen who, in her own special little way, kindly told him to fuck off.
Figures.
Seeing as he was out of luck, the rancher made to brush his horse before quickly realizing that he didn't have one anymore. Nor did he have a satchel and unless he wanted to treck back to Ambarino things were looking like he'd have to go shopping sometime soon. Especially since virtually all of his clothing was gone, save for what he was wearing of course. But things weren't all bad, least here he could breathe in the air without inhaling a whole bunch of frost, and at least here he was aloud to stay outside. Than again, it's not like the gang had any real roofs anywhere near but it's the thought that counts. Open sky's always were more calming to him, more natural, more free. Closing his eyes and holding in a sigh as Uncle was once again being yelled at for trying to sneak away from any of the real work, John made to grab for a cigarette but came to the saddening realization that he didn't have any. Holding in an even deeper sigh the ex outlaw got out one of the only possessions he still had, his old watch, and wasted the day away either fiddling with it or through watching the others work, with few real distractions in between. Helping Dutch carry some of the rabbits to a cheerful Pierson had been nice, but the talk with his old leader hadn't been so great. What with both of them sitting inside the only tent set up, Dutch's o'course, separated only by a few feet, whoever could of guessed that it weren't going to be no fun!
Taking a moment to situate himself, his old mentor got to talking cheerfully. Questions of how he was holding up and his usual spinning of dreams about them all riding together again, rubbing their noses into Uncle Sam's business. Egalitarian, his son would've called it. Bullshit is what he called it now, not to Dutch's face obviously but it was the thought that counted. Thankfully Dutch had some cigarettes because of course he did but least he had the decent to share. Taking a fulfilling puff from mankind's second best invention, behind guns, ahead of drink, he spoke in as a level voice as he could. "That sounds good and all Dutch but what we are going to do when the government comes down on us?" Dutch, unused to hearing much of any rebuttal from anyone, and definitely not John of all people, spoke more cautious and almost confused like. "What we always do son! Take a little over here, rob a couple folk over there, and than leave before any real heat can get to us-"
"But we're in the east Dutch," John spoke forcefully, trying to get some kind of point through, "this is where the government is ran. Out here in all this.... civilization-" At this both Dutch and John shivered in revulsion, "-out here they can find us far quicker. And I don't know but It just feels like if they find us out here at this camp, well we can't go west since that'll drive us into Balckwater so we'd be forced Eastward into even more civilization and law where they'll find us even quicker than out here! It just seems like-"
"-Like what? What choice do we have John, I, my son I am trying to save everyone out there in that camp, all them people, but to do that I need your trust, I...." He seemed to have trouble finding the right words. "I agree with you that things aren't looking good, but for right now we can't just live off the land, we need to get money and quickly if we want to get out of all this mess."
Seeing the small twitch in Dutch's eye was what ended the conversation. Let his old mentor think what he wants, but John wasn't going to argue with someone who wasn't going to listen. After a handful more of small talk and pleasantries John found that Arthur and Hosea still hadn't returned but he also found that he wasn't so willing to wait on then any longer. Moving towards the cliffside, John found a nice bit of rock to lay down on. Placing his hat beside him, the older man couldn't help but stare out at the endless blue sky as he tried to get some much needed rest.
1899, June 3rd- Horshoe Overlook