Snake Skin | John Marston (editing)

Outlaws From The West ✔

As they rode back to Valentine, John and Y/N took turns sharing stories, chatting about everything under the sun. John filled her in on Micah Bell, painting a picture of the man with a mix of humor and caution.

"One thing you two have in common, I know for sure," he said with a chuckle.

"Oh yeah? And what is that exactly?" she shot back, a playful glint in her eyes as they slowly entered the town.

"You both sure are racist!" he teased, laughing at his own joke.

"Am not!" she replied defensively. "You just caught me on a bad day. Just 'cause I called him a red one time doesn't mean I'm immoral."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," John said, smirking. "But I was curious how Arthur knows your real name, Alexandra Woods?"

"Either I told him at the saloon, or he dug it up at the sheriff's office," she shrugged.

John nodded as they dismounted, tying their horses to a hitching post next to the gunsmith's store. "What are we doing here, John?" Y/N asked, following his lead as he leaned against the wall.

"You, uh, head in and pick up a sniper rifle—"

"John," she interrupted, "I have one on my horse."

He raised an eyebrow, looking at her in disbelief. "Why do you have a sniper rifle?"

"Well... sometimes I like to hit my target without getting too close. I'm sure you understand," she explained quickly, a hint of pride in her voice. He nodded, conceding her point, and they walked back to their horses.

"You good?" she asked as they mounted up again.

"Sure. Let's go," he replied, gesturing for her to follow.

John picked up speed, and Y/N matched his pace. "Why couldn't you have picked up that gun yourself?" she questioned, keeping up with him.

"Done what?" he asked, glancing back.

"Picked up that gun," she clarified, catching up to him.

"I... had a run-in with that fella earlier. We ain't on the best of terms," he admitted, a frown creasing his brow.

Y/N snorted, "You had a run-in? I've had run-ins with that town for seven years now."

As they galloped up a hill, Y/N sighed and asked, "John, can you tell me what exactly we're doing here?"

"There's a herd of sheep coming down for auction from Emerald Ranch, as I mentioned. Folks in the paper were saying the owner's trying to stamp out every farm from here to Annesburg."

"Oh. I know that place..." she murmured, contemplating their mission.

"Let's head to the ridge up there, get a proper view!" he declared, taking a sharp turn into the canyon. Y/N nodded, urging her horse to keep pace.

As they climbed higher, John continued confidently, "So, here's what I'm thinking. The herd will make it to auction alright, but a couple of new ranch hands will be collecting on this sale. The town won't notice too much."

"Why do we need the rifle you couldn't buy yourself?" she asked, bringing the conversation back to practicality as they reached the top.

"Well, Y/N, I reckon we shouldn't get too close—at least not 'til we know what we're dealing with. Let's see what we can see from up here."

The pair dismounted, and John pulled out his binoculars. Y/N unstrapped the tightly holstered rifle from her saddle, following him to the edge of the ridge. From this height, they could see all of Valentine and the surrounding countryside—a vantage point perfect for spotting trouble.