Snake Skin | John Marston

By 1907, The Year Of Future

Armadillo just wasn't cut out for the two of them, no matter how hard they tried. The blistering, parched expanse of New Austin wasn't treating Y/N as well as they'd hoped. The law had eased its pursuit of the remaining Van Der Linde gang, granting the outlaws a flicker of hope for redemption. As long as they kept their heads down, they were somewhat safe.

John Marston and Y/N Colter were true outlaws, the last remnants of a fading breed. The notion of trading their wild ways for a mundane life felt like a cruel joke, yet it crept into their thoughts every night like a restless coyote howling at the moon.

When they finally scraped together enough coin, they took a hefty loan and purchased a slice of land just outside Blackwater—Beecher's Hope. It was meant to be their fresh start.

Y/N had a keen eye and an even sharper aim, making hunting a lucrative endeavor. John wore himself thin working the fields to keep the money flowing. Through thick and thin, they remained side by side. No matter how fierce their quarrels grew, they always found their way back into each other's arms by nightfall, finding solace in the warmth of their love.

Eventually, John found his way back to Uncle and Charles Smith. Together, the three of them set about building up the farm, erecting one sturdy structure at a time. They had their dreams and a vision for the future, but the money was slipping through their fingers faster than a rattlesnake striking in the brush.

Beecher's Hope had all the makings of a prime target for a robbery, and Y/N couldn't resist teasing John about it day in and day out.

After noontime, Y/N rode back to the ranch on her trusty mount, dust swirling around them as they approached the familiar homestead. She hitched the horse with practiced ease and strode through the house toward the backyard, where John was hard at work. He had decided it was high time to fix that rickety table Y/N had been complaining about for weeks. A smile spread across her face at the sight of him laboring under the sun. "Hey, rancher!" she called out, her voice carrying warmth.

John turned around, pushing himself up from the ground, a hint of surprise lighting up his features. "Hey, you're back."

"You was hopin' I was gone for good, huh?" Y/N teased, a playful glint in her eye.

"Maybe you were back to your old ways, Ma'am," he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I was in Blackwater, John. I saw the doctor about my sickness."

"And?" John stepped closer, his brow furrowing as he awaited her response.

"I'm pregnant, John Marston..."

"What?" he exclaimed, shock washing over him like a summer rain.

"I'm pregna—"

"No, no. I heard you the first time; I'm just..." His voice trailed off, grappling with the weight of her words.

"Then a blind lady near the saloon told me I've got a girl," Y/N scoffed, amusement dancing in her eyes.

John's expression turned to astonishment as he reached for her hands, his grip firm and reassuring. "We. We got a girl..."

"John..." she murmured softly, the gravity of the moment settling around them like the warm afternoon sun. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, a rush of affection flooding through him. She closed her eyes and smiled, savoring the moment they had long dreamed of. This was the ordinary life they had wished for, and it was only the beginning.

"We can't put much stock in blind folks," John said with a chuckle, gesturing toward Y/N's belly. "They can't see a thing, so what makes you think they can see what's goin' on inside you?"