RUNNING WILD [JOHN MARSTON]

7: a saloon in valentine

PRESENT DAY - smithfield's saloon, valentine
Sadie Adler let out a dry laugh. "You shot your own husband?"
"Almost husband. I shot him before it got that far." Rosalie was making a joke, but she also wasn't laughing. "Back then, on that night, I didn't even know if he was dead. I just shot him and ran."
"Didn't you say your mother pretty much tried to sell you off to him? Sounds like he deserved it."
Sadie smirked in an attempt to cheer up her new found friend.
"My awful mother wrote me, telling me she'd never forgive me. Turns out I did kill him. It was her new husbands nephew, or somethin' like that. I was so damn afraid."
Rosalie sighed, taking another sip of her rum.
"Now look at me," she scoffed, "turned out just like my brother."
"You shouldn't say that. You're a good girl, Miss Bell. Ain't nothing like your brother." Said reassured her.

——
The ladies of the Van der Linde gang were dancing in full force, the soles of their shoes clicking on the bar as they held onto the hands of drunken men and loudly sang along to the ragtime piano as they drank.

John Marston was shocked to see that even Mrs Adler has hoisted herself up onto the bar, a whiskey in her hand and a sincere grin spanning across her face as she danced and sung. He was here for all of the women, but his eyes locked firmly onto Rosalie Bell. He studied her as she danced and giggled, her arm snaked around a handsome but dirty man. The man's drunk eyes were grazing over Rosalie's slim build hungrily, and a wave of jealously flashed through John's body.

Rosalie Bell was too drunk to even comprehend what was happening as her dazzling eyes suddenly fell onto the serious looking John Marston. She flickered her blue orbs away from him quickly, trying to ignore the outlaw and keep her long legs upright on top of the bar. John Marston knew the girl had spotted him, but before he could approach her Tilly Jackson was moving towards him, a worried expression clouding over her complexion.
"John!" She shrieked over the music and laughter as she approached him. "I'm glad you're here." She breathed a sigh of relief.
"What's wrong, Miss Jackson? I thought I'd come check on you ladies, you been gone a long time."
Tilly touched her hand to the man's arm as her eyes signalled to the other ladies on the bar.
"Oh John, we were having such fun. But Miss Bell really is quite drunk, and I'm worried about her."
John sighed, knowing that the scenes playing out in front of him were exactly what he was expecting on his midnight ride into Valentine. He knew Rosalie was angry at him, and everyone knew that Rosalie's only answers to her anger were fighting, or drinking. Luckily, she had only chosen the latter option tonight. Any longer, though, and a fight including the girl would likely break out.

John's boots stomped over to the bar that lay on the left hand side of the saloon and came to halt in front of where Rosalie was stood. His hand grasped her small wrists and their eyes locked onto each other.
"Get down from there." He stated calmly, knowing that she would begin to complain that her fellow gang member was ruining her fun. He didn't want her to view him like that, but if Tilly had expressed her concerns then he knew it was only right. "Come on, Dutch wants you ladies back." He said. It wasn't a complete lie, Hosea had mentioned that the women had been gone for hours, and it was getting late. Dutch sent John on some personal retrieval mission.
"Dutch is worried about us coming back?" Rosalie scoffed sarcastically, attempting to brush John off and continue her enjoyment. Her wrist was still in John's hand as he tried to get her down, but the drunken hang-around tightened his grip on her, aiming to pull her towards him. Rosalie's eyebrows furrowed into a frown, but before she could argue with the man, John stepped forward.
"Get your hands off of her!" He yelled as he finally got Rosalie down from the bar and the drunk scurried away.

——
Rosalie Bell's weak and intoxicated body was slumped outside of Smithfield Saloon, with John Marston towering over her, staring down with a displeased look plastered onto his face.
"What do you want?" Rosalie drunkenly slurred.
"Don't be like that." John grumbled. "You been gone a long time."
"Just havin' fun with my ladies." Rosalie stated proudly, yet bluntly as she shrugged her shoulders. "Why'd you care, anyway?"
"Come on, Rosalie-" John's grubby hand stretched out as his body leant over to try and help the girl up, but his coarse hand was harshly pushed away by a much slimmer, daintier one as Rosalie pulled herself up.
"Fuck you, John Marston." She grumbled as she pushed past him and clambered into the muddy street of Valentine.

The vast sky was completely dark now, except for the petite twinkles of stars that sprinkled themselves across it. It was past midnight, and the majority of the small town had taken to their beds for the night, with houses and buildings littered across town all shut up in darkness. Except for the howling of a dog in the distance and the faint noise of laughter from the saloon, there was no movement, no sound, from anybody except the two outlaws that faced each other.

"Rosalie?" John's eyes pleaded with the girl, as did a faint note in his usually gruff voice. He found his legs moving to her side and his arms wrapped themselves around her body, pulling her close to him. She was shorter than him, and her head found itself resting on his chest, finding comfort there.

The thick barriers that usually surrounded Rosalie Bell's strong exterior were crashing down, yet she still couldn't bring herself to tell the man in front of her exactly what he was doing to her. She let a sob escape her lips into his chest, the alcohol suddenly making her emotions messier than the lives they had been living. She bought her head up from his chest and looked up into his glazed green eyes.
"I'm confused, John." She cried, finding that this was the only way she could explain her feelings.

John Marston said nothing. His eyes flitted over every feature on Rosalie Bell's face. From her intense blue eyes that twinkled as she gazed at him, to the minimal freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose, and to the plumpness of her lips that were always coloured a vivid red. John's hand reached up and brushed her blonde hair from her eyes, hovering a moment over her skin.
In that moment, he wanted to kiss her. To take her head in his hands and hold her underneath the bright moon that was watching over Valentine. But, the saloon door swung open and Tilly Jackson appeared outside. The two outlaws jumped away from each other, their hands falling back to their sides and their eyes looking anywhere but at each other.
"John?" Tilly didn't know that she'd interrupted something between the pair, her mind was solely focused on getting back to camp. "I think it's time we took these ladies back."