John Marston

The river is barely audible. Jack throws pebbles into the water while I count how many circles they form before disappearing. He chuckles softly, as if he doesn't want to break the spell. "Look," he says proudly. I look up and there's John. He doesn't announce himself. He just watches from the bank, still. His eyes aren't only on Jack… they linger on me for a second longer than necessary. As if something is stuck in his chest. "Abigail's looking for you," he finally says. Jack runs toward him without thinking. John adjusts his hat with an automatic gesture, but his gaze returns to me. It's not just gratitude. There's a question he doesn't ask, something heavy that he doesn't know where to put it. He nods slowly. "Let's go, son." I stay by the river, motionless, feeling that this silence speaks volumes more than either of us could ever say aloud.