Birds of a Feather II

John

"You've made stupid decisions before, John Marston, but this little outing has to be one of the dumbest things you ever done."

He and Abigail had just crossed into Lemoyne territory and he'd be lying if he said she was wrong. John wasn't exactly happy to be back so far south again. At least, in this part of the country.

"So you've been sayin' for the last couple of hours," he responded to Abigail. He didn't know why the hell she had followed him in the first place if she was just gonna complain about his life choices the whole way.

She piled on, "And riding back into Rhodes like you don't think no one will recognize you? Real stupid."

"Ain't no one left alive to recognize me." Arthur and the others surely killed off most of the Grays who would know him from stealing them horses. "Besides, we ain't going into town. We're headed straight to the Braithwaite property."

"The Braithwaites," she spat out without hiding her revulsion. "I don't understand why you'd agree to help anyone in that family after what they did to our son."

"The way I understand it, Penelope Braithwaite is just some kid. Probably didn't know nothing about what happened to Jack."

"We'll see about that." Abigail sniffed. "Did Arthur say what this girl wanted?"

"No."

"This better not be some goddamn setup."

"It ain't too late for you to turn around," John suggested sourly.

"No," she replied with expected stubbornness. "I'm here to make sure you don't mess nothing up."

Despite all Abigail's griping and his annoyance at her presence, he knew it actually was too late for her to go off on her own. He'd be a heartless bastard to send her back into the woods unaccompanied. Their trip hadn't involved any encounters with Murfrees on the road, but John had shot dead more than a few of them at Beaver Hollow with Lenny and Bill.

What he'd seen there, the kinds of atrocities those folks got up to, was one of the worst things he'd ever laid eyes on. Corpses strung up, entrails spread across the ground without care, torsos gutted and crucified on a stick, human remains everywhere...

If he pissed Abigail off enough, she'd abandon him for sure, and there was a good chance she'd get herself caught by those freaks. Just the thought of finding Abigail tortured and butchered by them...John swallowed hard. No, he couldn't brood over scenarios like that. It'd leave him too numb to concentrate.

Instead, John kept his mouth shut the rest of the way, even when Abigail continued to berate him, choosing not to respond in case he said something he might fatally regret.

On the edge of the Braithwaite plantation, John slowed Old Boy near a tree and dismounted. Abigail followed his lead, coming up next to him as he removed his spare revolver from his saddle.

He handed it to her, saying, "Here. I ain't expecting you to be hassled, but take it anyway and wait for me here."

Abigail accepted the gun from him willingly enough, tucking it into the waistband of her skirt, but she followed up the action with a combative, "Why should I stay?"

John tried not to snap back at her. He had to bite his tongue to do so and the pain of it still didn't free his tone of his temper. "Why? Can't you just listen to my directions one goddamn time without questioning I know what I'm doing?"

"Because you don't know what the hell you're doing," she shot back. "That's the problem. Arthur sent you down here and you took orders without asking any damn questions."