RUNNING WILD [JOHN MARSTON]

5: everybody else is celebrating

horseshoe overlook
Rosalie Bell took yet another swig from the bottle of whiskey in her hand before handing it back to Sean Macguire. The heat of the campfire was rising to her face, making her cheeks a rosy red colour. Rosalie lit another cigar as she listened to the sounds of Javier Escuella's guitar mixed with the singing voices of the other gang members.

Her eyes drifted over to the rock that overlooked the view below their camp. John Marston was sitting on it, puffing on a cigarette and taking in the view. Rosalie stood herself up from the fire and wandered over to him.
"Everybody else is celebratin'." She told him as she chuckled, taking another long drag on her cigarette. Charles, Javier, Arthur and Josiah Trelawny had saved Sean from some group of bounty hunters back near Blackwater, giving everybody an excuse to get drunk.
John turned to look at Rosalie and smiled, blowing out smoke that surrounded his face.
"Ah, I was just takin' a minute. Sure is beautiful out here."

Rosalie took in the multiple scars that had now engrained themselves on his face.
"I uh, I just wanted to thank you. For helpin' me today. I know most'a you lot don't much like my brother."
John waved his hand in the air, brushing off Rosalie's gratitude, but not disagreeing with her statement about Micah. "It's nothin'."
"I know my temper gets the better of me sometimes, too. It's funny, you're the only one that seems to see through it, John Marston." She grinned cheekily at him, but there was a seriousness in her words. Whenever her temper took over, sure, Arthur Morgan could calm her down, but recently the girl had noticed how John Marston saw through everything that her anger covered.

"I probably woulda' gotten myself killed out there. So, I mean it when I say thank you." Her green eyes lingered on his, the contact not breaking for a few seconds. John threw his cigarette onto the floor, stamping on it before he moved closer to Rosalie, so that their faces were in close proximity.
"I would do anything, if it meant protectin' you." His voice dropped to a whisper. His green eyes grazed her face a few seconds longer before he adjusted his hat and walked away, leaving Rosalie staring at the spot he stood just moments before.

——

The majority of the gang were drunk, slurring the words to Javier's campfire songs instead of singing them. Rosalie Bell was drunk, but not the happy, loud, singing type. She was sombre; low and quiet. Right now, she didn't have many sorrows, but she was using whiskey to drown whatever it was that John Marston had made her feel.

Her eyes hovered over him on the opposite side of the campfire. He was mirroring her mood: his green eyes stared deeply into the campfire as he smoked his third cigarette in a row, his hat was pushed low over his face, and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey sat in his hand. John was so spaced out that it was as though he didn't realise there was a group of rowdy drunks surrounding him.

I would do anything, if it meant protecting you.

Rosalie couldn't get his words out of her head. John was moody at the best of times, and he wasn't usually one to say such intense things.

She thought back to the incident in Blackwater. As well as Mac, Davey and Jenny, John was shot too. He took a bullet to the arm, but it wasn't anywhere near the worst injury that had occurred that day. Although Rosalie's memory of the massacre was somewhat fuzzy, her mind trailed off to John getting shot. She was there. She was the reason. John Marston had pushed her from a Pinkerton, resulting in the bullet hitting his arm, instead of Rosalie's chest. The usually tough outlaw had never thought of it since Blackwater. Her face evolved into an expression of realisation; of shock and understanding.

Rosalie's eyes travelled up from the fire to John Marston's face. His eyes were locked onto her now, studying her change in expression.
"Rosalie? Rosalie!" A Mexican accent dragged her from her thoughts and her eyes flickered to the side to see Javier waving a bottle in her face. "Looked like you could use another one. You okay?"
Rosalie sighed and took the bottle from Javier's hands, immediately taking a swig.
"I'm just tired, a little stressed out."
"Aren't we all." Javier sighed, chuckling slightly as he took the drink from her again and took a few swigs. He presumed she was talking of the Blackwater incident; of the constant running and the recent deaths that had plagued their gang. However, none of that was on Rosalie's mind. The only thing on her mind was John Marston.
"I'm just gonna go and take a breather, Javier." Rosalie sighed, her eyes heading back to where John had been sat minutes before. The seat was empty now, apart from the legs of a drunken Sean Macguire sprawling all over them as he attempted to impress Karen Jones. Javier patted Rosalie's leg and shot her a warm, reassuring smile as she stood up from the campfire.

Rosalie's tent was on the outskirts of the camp, half shared with Micah. Rosalie had been given a covered tent while Micah slept just outside of it, meaning his sleeping state was the first thing she saw every morning. Her boots crunched in the leaves as she headed towards the tent and her bed, wanting nothing more than to drift into a deep sleep and forget about John Marston's words.

Rosalie's wishes were cut short when she lifted her head to see the man leaning on the tree that stood tall next to her tent.
"Oh." She stopped in her tracks, quickly looking around herself to ensure that nobody was around. "Mr Marston." She greeted him, not knowing what else to say to the gunslinger.
"I ain't sweet on Miss Roberts, you know." John looked at the ground as he flicked the cigarette he had been smoking towards his feet.
A confused look flickered across Rosalie's face. "Excuse me?"
John walked closer to Rosalie, so that they were stood together, outside of her tent. "You always said Abigail had a thing for me. But I ain't sweet on her. She's here for all them other men too."
Rosalie's eyebrows furrowed slightly as she began to feel annoyance in her chest at the ambiguity of John.
"Why you tellin' me this, John?" She sighed, moving sidewards to open up her tent. The soft and sudden grip of John's hands stopped her from entering.
"I'm just tellin' you. Just don't want you to forget that."
Rosalie's eyes fell upon John's thumb as it began to draw soft little circles on the flat of her wrist. His face gave away no emotion, baring the usual stern look that appeared on his complexion every day. Rosalie tried to study it, but the pair were interrupted by the sounds of Sean Macguire and Karen Jones' giggles coming towards them.
John's eyes flickered towards the sound before his hand dropped its hold on Rosalie's wrist and he turned away from her, not speaking another word and disappearing in the direction of his own tent.