The Red Wolf ~ A Red Dead Redemption story

Chapter 60: The cries of a Wolf

Robert was just gently walking on the road, with Old Girl in tow. Each step he made, his heartbeat grew heavier. Just seeing Jessica again for almost 9 months was overwhelming but to find see that she would be carrying his child. It was like the sky had fallen down on his whole world but with the will and strength of Atlas he would push forward and get a hold himself. Or a least that was what he was thinking on his walk.

"Okay Rob...you can do this. You have nothing to fear, absolutely nothing to fear." He said to himself as he saw the house in view. Though his gaze returned to the road ahead as he kept talking to himself.

"Sure, just take it slowly and wit and charm your way in. Just like how it used to be...yeah like that." He again spoke out, just thinking of how he'd talk to her. "Baby names...okay...I'll leave to her to decide...If it's a boy and call it Butch?...No that's a dogs name. Maybe Elsbeth if a girl."

Then Old Girl nudged her head on his back, as if to tell him not to worry.

"Okay Old Girl, your right I'll leave it with her. It's her right to name the baby." He smirked before he finally looked up to where the house stood, where it should be. But something just seemed...wrong.

His green eyes darted onto the house but saw some whiskey bottles littering the garden and some cigarettes all over the road. "What the-?"

Looking onto the road again, were a lot of horse tracks. As if, someone or a group of people had left, rather recently or so. His heart began to beat a wild drum solo as he walked up hill towards the wooden yellow house. It was always his beacon of warmth and comfort, the haven against his harsh world. But as he looked at the house now, it was splintered, the window panes broken and the door hung askew. A shiver ran down Robert's spine. He began to pant rapidly, hoping that what he was seeing wasn't true as he upholstered his right Scholfield. Leaving Old Girl outside and dropping the flowers he was holding.

Running up to the porch, he saw footprints. But it was not mud, it was a rich vibrant red and it led into the house.

"Jessica?" He whispered, his voice hoarse in disbelief. Looking at the door he saw gunshots going off, as if someone had shot their way in and someone defending themselves. But seeing the door also broken in made him set in panic again as he barged into the door desperately.

"JESSICA!" He shouted out! Pointing his gun around the lounge but saw all the furniture all overturned and every cupboard had been raided. And like outside their was numerous amounts of whiskey and cigarette butts.

"No...Jessica!" He screamed out as he ran over to the kitchen to see if she was hiding anywhere, but it was unlikely given everything was upturned and scattered around. It was his worse fear he never thought he had.

"JESSICA!" He cried out before looking back at the footprints that scattered around the kitchen and around the lounge towards the outside. some were in the dirt but some were leading out the house...stained red, with blood.

His fear soon exploded up as he smelt blood. Then through the wooden floorboards of the ceiling, a drop of blood fell on his shoulder. He looked at it before looking up, seeing a couple droplets of it.

Darting up the stairs he waved his gun about but something told him we wouldn't be needing it. But even so, he wasn't so sure what to see. He had just hoped it wasn't what he thought was. His denial was like a tidal wave, he looked about the landing before kicking the bedroom door down.

And as he looked, the horror was right there.

There before him, Jessica was laid on the bed pale as ice and littered with blood all over her, her once vibrant red hair smeared with blood, her eyes wide and unseeing. Her dress was torn, the fabric stained red. A rope was still tied around her wrists to the bed, the marks of a potential struggle etched into her pale skin. Robert's stomach lurched, bile rising in his throat. He could barely breathe, his vision blurring with the rising tide of anger and grief.