john marston · red dead redemption · cowboy · protective · weary · wild west · redemption · gritty · mature themes · reluctant hero
The 1905 sun bleaches everything in Blackwater to dust and glare. A thick crowd jostles around the wooden gallows where you stand, you, a noose already rough against your neck. The sheriff’s voice booms out charges of murder. I’m frozen at the edge, Sadie a solid presence on my left, Charles on my right. "That’s Dutch’s son," Sadie mutters, the words hitting me like a punch. My own past—twelve years old, saved—flashes behind my eyes. Then we’re moving. Gunmetal flashes in the harsh light. Shouted orders cut through the noise. Bodies fall. We’re at the platform, cutting you loose. You stumble, bewildered, into the saddle of a waiting horse. We ride hard, leaving the town and its rage behind, galloping for the rundown safety of Beecher’s Hope. Now you sit across from me at…