Morgan's Legacy [{RDR2 FanFic Sequel}]

Courtin'

John Marston

By first light, I hadn't moved more than an inch. Even after he stirred back to life and started a pot of coffee, I never left my spot on that cot. I laid still and silent as the sun climbed over the trees and warmed the earth, thawing the layer of frost formed over the wagon's cover. Finally, I rose and drug myself out. Outside, he'd already packed everything up, save for one last cup of coffee which he shoved into my frozen hands with a beaming grin.

"Mornin' partner!" He cheered, entirely too happy for the early hour of the day.

I downed the mug of coffee, burning my tongue slightly. I'm too anxious to get on the road, to get to Charlotte, to actually enjoy it. "Swear it!" The repeated words rake over my entire body, leaving me with that familiar aching pain. Sometimes his voice is a whisper in my ear, other times it grabs hold of my entire body and shakes it with a fearful strength. Every minute that goes by that I know she's out there, alone, with a strange man wanting after her... I fail Arthur.

"Help me load up these last few things and we'll be on our way." He hums, shutting up the last box of gear. I give him a nod, hoisting a small box full of cooking supplies into the wagon. He fumbles over the old morgans reins, strapping him up to the wagon. The poor thing doesn't look like it can carry a rider, let alone drag hundreds of pounds.

"Let me tie Old Boy on there too, help carry the load."

"Mighty kind of you, friend." He smiles, satisfied with my offer. The relief of the old horse is visible on it's grey face. His gait changes completely, more relaxed and calm with a portion of the weight now lifted. I give Old Boy a pat as if he knows the good work he's doing. "Name's Timothy by the way. Never did catch yours, what did you say it was again?

I hadn't said it. I'd been careful not to. Not with the price still looming over my head and the law still searching this exact area for me. "Jim. Jim Milton." I lied, giving him the same name I'd given my boss back at the ranch. Only he hadn't fallen for it.

"Jim and Tim! I quite like the sound of that, Jimmy."

I flinched at the name, at the horrible friendship he somehow felt between us. I half wondered how a man could get to this point, so blind with delusion and outright ignorance. What man would meet me, the exact match to the wanted posters all over the country and see a trustworthy friend? A sick and secluded pervert, I guess.

Though I couldn't deny how lucky our meeting happened to be. Had I not come across him in the woods, I never would've seen Charlotte's picture, the first and only real lead I've had since I began my search. Never would've had such a marvelous chance to avenger her from this monster.

"Not much farther now. She don't live too far from the falls." He raises his voice so I can hear him over Brandywine Drops rushing waterfall.

He was right. Ten minutes after Brandywine's bridge, a tiny rundown cabin came into sight. A low stone wall surrounded the place, enclosing a small yard of chickens and a little garden patch with a few shriveled up plants. The tin trough was still there now emptied and turned over, likely to dry out before the next use.

Timothy slows the wagon to a stop before we get close enough to see the cabin in it's entirety. He raises an eyebrow at me and he doesn't have to say out loud that it's to prevent scaring her off once more. With that big gapped grin shining, he scoops up a bouquet of wildflowers he'd picked just this morning, smoothing down his small bit of hair one last time. "You best wait here. It's been a few months since I last stopped by and she don't like strange faces sniffing around here. You just wait 'til I introduce you."

I nod and finally he hops from the driver's seat, checking himself over one last time before starting up the pathway leading to the small gate into the yard. The few chickens stir and squawk like a predator just entered their coop. Slowly, I lower one hand to my pistol, raising it carefully to where I could shoot him straight in the back once I had a clear shot. I wanted that door to open, to see that she was at least alive before I pulled the trigger. I want her to see me kill this terrible man that's been watching her, studying her and waiting for such an opportunity as this to strike on her. Timothy knocks on the door loudly in a little rhythmic tune, that bouquet held proudly at his heart.