Crescent Smile ~ John Marston Story

✽.✫☽ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟹𝟶 ☾✫.✽

(Unedited)
Word count: 3538
{Listen while you read?~I recommend Cowgirl in the Sand by Vincent Neil Emerson}
⚠️A/N: mention of NC⚠️
☽✫.✽✦✽.»»——⍟——««.✽✦✽.✫☾

Dixie, her steps faltering and unsteady, finally reached their table. Her eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, were glazed over and unfocused. She swayed dangerously, her hand reaching out to steady herself on the table. "Wha's goin' on, boys?" she mumbled, her words slurred and heavy.

John's gaze hardened, his jaw clenching tightly. His heart ached for Dixie, for the innocence and trust that had been stolen from her. "Nothing, Darlin'," he responded, his voice steady despite the anger boiling within him. "Just a friendly chat between old friends." But as he looked at Rusty, his gaze held a promise.

He put the pieces together in his head remembering someone getting into the house last night and the tainted whiskey bottle suddenly disappearing when Rusty arrived that morning. John watched as Rusty reached a hand out to help Dixie sit down but John quickly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down to his lap.

Dixie's head lolled on John's shoulder as he held her close, protecting her from Rusty's sinister grasp. The weight of the truth settled heavily on John's shoulders, fueling the fire of determination within him.

With a firm grip on Dixie, John looked up at Rusty, his eyes filled with a steely resolve. "You're a dead man" he said, his voice low and filled with restrained anger.

Rusty's drunken laughter turned into a sneer, his face contorting with malice. "Dead man?" he spat with a laugh, his words slurred but filled with a twisted confidence.

A flicker of determination flashed in John's eyes as he gently stroked Dixie's hair, reassuring her silently. "You'll be dead come noon tomorrow." he said, his voice dripping with quiet intensity.

As the words hung in the air, John's gaze locked with Rusty's, a silent understanding passing between them. The time for games was over. The bounty hunter in him wondering how much Leigh would pay for his dead body.

Rusty's eyes drooped heavily, the weight of his intoxication finally taking its toll. With a final, drunken mumble, he slumped forward, unconscious. John sighed, his gaze lingering on Rusty's motionless form for a moment before shifting his attention back to Dixie.

Gently, John lifted a sleeping Dixie into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Her head lolled against his shoulder as he carried her out of the saloon, the cool night air washing over them. The streets were quiet, the town settling into its slumber as John made his way towards Dixie's home.

As he walked, he couldn't help but feel a mix of anger and sadness. Anger at Rusty for his vile actions, and sadness for the pain Dixie had endured. She deserved so much better than what she had been subjected to. John was determined to make things right, to protect her from any further harm.

Arriving at Dixie's doorstep, John carefully balanced her weight as he fumbled as he opened the door, stepping inside the dimly lit house. The scent of whiskey lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the poison that had clouded Dixie's mind.

Setting Dixie gently on the bed, John pulled off her boots and covered her with a blanket. He sat by her side for a while, watching her peaceful face, hoping that some semblance of tranquility would find her in her sleep.