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My Blessed Son—Chapter 26

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Summary:

For years, Jack Marston dreamed of killing Edgar Ross, the man who had taken everything from him, who had ruined his life. His obsession with revenge had given him a reason to keep going. But now, after it was done, he was left lost, depressed and without purpose. He was left to navigate life alone with the unforgiving eyes of the law slowly narrowing in on him. Though he soon comes to realize that perhaps he isn’t quite as alone as he thought he would be. A continuation from the end of Red Dead Redemption 1.

Word count: ~9800

Chapter under the cut <3

Jack lied in bed, rolling his mother’s ring between his fingers, the metal cold from the frigid air leaking in through his half-open window. He still couldn’t stop thinking about that letter. Her words still replayed endlessly in his head, harmonizing with the chirping of the crickets outside in some sad symphony.

His thoughts were mercifully drowned out by the roar of a car approaching, marking Lilly’s return to the ranch. He glanced at the clock, wondering why she had come back so early, only to find that it wasn’t early. It was nearly four in the morning. How had he been lying awake that long?

He listened as the car stopped and then took off again, clinging to that moment of reprieve the sound had given him from his thoughts.

Shortly, the front door opened, and Lilly’s familiar footsteps pattered down the hall, stopping in front of his bedroom door. The handle turned slowly, and she opened the door a crack and peeked inside.

Making eye contact with him, she pushed the door the rest of the way open. “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

A sinking anticipation settled in the pit of his stomach. Why did she want him to be awake? What was so important that she needed to talk to him at almost four in the morning?

“Something wrong?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

“No, definitely not,” she said, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind her. “Everything’s right. So right.”

Anxiety subsiding a little, he breathed out a confused laugh. “What’s going on?”

Grinning, she scurried over to him, nearly skipping in her stride, and sat down on his bed. Jack pushed himself the rest of the way up and sat cross-legged beside her, staring at her in anticipation.

“Okay, um…” She shook her head, her grin widening. “God, where do I start?” She thought for a moment, chewing on her lip and bouncing her legs. Once she’d gathered her thoughts, she started speaking rapidly, “So I was at work, and I was about to leave, so we were cleanin’ up, right?”

Jack nodded.

“Well… I ended up alone at one point, and would you believe it?— that Fordham guy walked in with one of his little minions.”

Jack’s mouth fell open, and his brows drew together. What the hell? Why was she so happy about that? That was terrible news. His mind started racing. What was he doing there? Trying to accost Lilly? Spy on her? Tommy had said that her lying to those agents for him could get her in trouble. What if—

“Hey, don’t worry.” Lilly grabbed his forearm with both hands and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s nothing bad. It’s good.”

He scoffed. “How could that be good?”

“It is,” she assured him. “Trust me. Just listen.”

Jack stared at her for a beat before swallowing hard and nodding, silently giving her permission to continue.

And she did. “They just came in for drinks, and he didn’t notice me when he walked in. Didn’t even look around at all. I was gonna run outta there before he could, but then they started talking about you.”

Jack shifted, his heart skipping a beat. He still failed to see how all this was good news, but he bit his tongue and waited, hoping to be proven wrong.

Lilly continued, letting out a short laugh of disbelief, “He just went off blabbing about everything, not a care who could’ve been listening. I can’t believe he didn’t—”

Losing patience in his anxiety, he interrupted her rambling by gently placing his hand over hers. “C-Can you just tell me what they said?”

She paused. “Yeah. Sorry.” Shaking her head, she skipped to the point. “That old agent Tommy sweet-talked at the bar went and told them that it wasn’t you who talked to him. And Fordham sounded pretty pissed about it.”

Jack relaxed a little. “Really?”

“Yeah. He said that was one of the only real things they had against you, and now they’ve practically got nothing,” she continued, encouraged by his response. “Also, everyone at that ranch you were stayin’ at a while ago told them you were there the day Ross died, so that threw him off even more.”

A grin tugged at his lips, and he let out a stunned sigh of relief. He couldn’t believe all of that had actually been effective. He admittedly hadn’t had much faith in Tommy’s methods. But clearly, if nothing else, they were getting under Fordham’s skin.

“Wait. It gets better,” Lilly said, giggling and slapping his arm. “His lackey who was with him, Agent Asshole or whatever, said he doubts you did it.”

Jack froze and blinked at her. “Seriously?”

Lilly nodded. “He thinks Fordham is just targeting you because of your history with him. Said he ought to just let it go.” Perking up as if she’d just recalled something, she added, “Oh, he also said that Ross was a piece of shit and deserved to get shot.”

Jack blinked at her, dumbfounded. She had to be making that part up. There was no way a bureau agent would say something like that— they didn’t have that much sense. Scoffing, he said, “No, he didn’t.”

“He did! I swear!” She laughed and raised her right hand. “And boy did Fordham get mad about it,” she added in between laughs. “He yelled at the guy then got up and stormed out like a little kid.”

Jack snorted at the mental image of that.

Shaking her head, Lilly sighed like she was reliving the best night of her life. “God, you should’ve seen him, Jack. He’s fallin’ apart. All your and Tommy’s scheming seems to have really fucked with his head.”

“Good.”

Even if they didn’t end up absolving him completely, all of their efforts were worth it just for that. Just to see Archer Fordham crumbling. To see his whole department turning against him. To see him getting even a shred of what he deserved. He could feel the tides finally starting to turn in his favor.

And it could only get better. Fordham thought he was having a bad time now, but he had no clue what kind of aces Jack still had up his sleeve, waiting to be revealed. All of those documents he’d painstakingly compiled would be the perfect nail in his coffin.

Assuming Tommy thought they were worth anything, that was.

He asked Lilly, “Did you give Tommy that envelope?”

“I did,” she confirmed. “He said he’ll look through it whenever he gets a chance— and I also told him everything I just told you.”

Jack nodded in response.

Hopefully ‘whenever he gets a chance’ meant soon. He was eager to play his winning hand.

In the back of his mind, he knew that shoving those documents in Fordham’s face probably wasn’t necessary at that point. He, by his own overheard admission, had nothing against Jack anymore. If they waited, there was a good chance the whole thing would fizzle out on its own. It would almost certainly be easier that way.

But Jack didn’t want that. He didn’t want to wait while Fordham faded quietly into the night. He wanted to bury him alive.

Maybe that was just him being vindictive again. Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as he thought he had since shooting Ross. Maybe he was still seeking the satisfaction that killing Ross had failed to give him. Still craving some semblance of justice for what was done to his family.

But he supposed his reasons didn’t matter. Whatever they were going to do next hinged completely on what Tommy wanted. Because as much as he hated to admit it, Jack couldn’t do it without him.

“I feel good about it,” Lilly said, cutting off his ruminations.

Shaking away his thoughts, he smiled at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Things are finally looking up.” As she spoke the last words, her voice cracked and tears started welling up in her eyes. With a light whimper, she leaned forward, covering her face with her hands.

Jack’s brows drew together in concern. “Hey.” Confused, he scooted closer to her and rested a hand on her back. “What happened? Why are you crying?”

She laughed into her hands and uncovered her face. “I don’t know. I’m just so happy.” Sniffling, she smiled at him. “I really think everything’s gonna be okay now.”

He returned her smile, but it quickly faltered. “But… you always thought everything was gonna be okay,” he reminded her. “You always told me it would be.”

Her face fell, and she lowered her head again, avoiding his eyes.

His heart sank. “You never actually believed that?”

She let out a watery sigh and admitted, “I… I don’t know. I always had hope. But that’s it.” She gave him a sad smile. “And… that’s not a lot by itself, y’know?”

Jack nodded, though hearing that did cause a dull pain to throb in his chest. Her unwavering optimism throughout all their ordeals had kept him afloat. It kept him from crashing to the bottom of the pit of despair he’d been floating in for so long. Finding out that it wasn’t entirely real was a hard blow.

“But now, I’m sure,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers and hugging it against her chest. “Now, I believe it. It’ll all be over soon. I can feel it.” She squeezed his hand. “Then we can get back to what really matters.”

Jack pulled his hand from her grip and scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her. Welcoming the change in subject, he softly asked, “Like what?”

She leaned into him. “Well… we can finish cleanin’ out the barn and get that cow I wanted.”

Jack groaned involuntarily at the mention of the barn. If there was one good thing about the chaos of the past couple weeks, it was getting to put off cleaning that cursed barn for a while.

She chuckled and stroked his back. “Alright, maybe not then.” Taking a few seconds to think, she offered another idea, “You can write me some more of those stories— I haven’t forgotten about that.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, hugging her closer. “We’ll see.”

It would be nice, finally being able to move on from everything that had happened over the past several months. Finally being able to move forward. Jack wasn’t sure where exactly he would go— whether he’d become a full-time rancher, a writer, or who knows what else. He never dared to let himself dream too far ahead.

But he did know that Lilly would be there with him. And that was all the certainty he really needed.

“We can look forward to Tommy getting out of our hair too,” Lilly added with a snort. “He’ll go back to Boston where he belongs.”

“What a shame,” Jack said, feigning disappointment. “He doesn’t wanna stay in Blackwater forever?”

She laughed. “I think he’d rather die.”

Jack shrugged and murmured, “Can’t say I blame him.”

She laughed again, a bit louder, and held him tighter. Her proximity and the sweet sound of her laughter filled his chest with warmth.

They stayed like that for a while before Lilly raised her head off his shoulder. “Anyway,” she said. ”I’m sorry. It’s really late. I oughta go and let you get some sleep….”

Jack glanced at the clock by his bed and frowned. She wasn’t wrong. It was so late that he could almost call it early. If he didn’t sleep now, he wouldn’t at all.

But he didn’t want her to leave. He felt the urge to tell her to stay— to ask her to squeeze into that tiny bed with him for the night— but he bit his tongue. He knew it wouldn’t be appropriate. He barely fit in that bed alone; his feet hung a couple inches off of it when he stretched out completely. While they’d certainly made strides in their relationship, asking her to practically sleep on top of him seemed a bit too far.

Sighing, he said, “Alright.”

As the response left his lips, a slight disappointment flashed across her face. Had she wanted him to tell her to stay? Before he could consider the possibility, she replaced the look with a smile and stood up, leaving the space beside him feeling cold.

She leaned down to kiss his cheek and uttered a soft, “Goodnight,” before starting for the door.

His heart lurched as she opened the door and took a step outside.

“Lilly,” he called out to her, a desperate crack in his voice.

Pausing in the doorway, she turned to face him.

“Stay.”

She smiled.

And she did.

———

Chilly morning air leaked in through the cracked-open window, bringing down the temperature in the room. But despite the cold, Jack had never felt warmer. He was weighed down by the crumpled mess of blankets on top of him— and, of course, by Lilly, who lied on her stomach, halfway on top of him.

Keeping still to not disturb her, he squinted his eyes open to the soft rays of sun that flooded into his room, painting the walls with streaks of light.

Looking at the clock, he suppressed a sigh when he realized that they should’ve been up a couple hours ago. Getting up, leaving Lilly’s warmth in favor of the cold waiting outside, was the last thing he wanted to do. He could’ve lied there forever— and for a moment, he considered it.

But unfortunately, lying in bed all day wasn’t an option when you lived on a ranch. There was too much to do.

Coffee would be a good start, he decided. She would definitely want a cup— or two— the moment she woke up. He’d love to surprise her by having it already made.

Gently shimmying himself out from underneath her, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up very slowly— almost as slowly as Uncle the morning after a drunken binge.

Once he was sat up straight, he glanced back at Lilly to make sure he hadn’t disturbed her. Satisfied to see her still peacefully asleep, he leaned forward to stand up, the motion making the bed creak.

He froze and held his breath as the sound made Lilly stir, causing the old bed to whine in protest some more. His hopes of not waking her were dashed when she groaned, rolled over, and clutched the back of his shirt.

“Where you goin’?” she asked, her voice slurred from sleep.

Jack slouched and whispered, “Dammit.”

There was a pause and then the bed shook again as she propped herself up on her elbows. “What’s wrong?” The dazed sleepiness in her voice had morphed into concern.

“Nothing,” he assured. “I was just gonna go make coffee for you.” He turned to give her a sheepish smile. “Was hopin’ to surprise you with it when you woke up, but…” He trailed off with a shrug.

“Oh,” she said with a little nod, her voice still a bit scratchy. “Okay. Here, I’ll pretend to go back to sleep. You go ahead.” She plopped her head back onto her pillow, flipped over onto her side, and closed her eyes. “I’ll act surprised when you come back.”

Jack chuckled. “No. Ain’t the same.”

She opened one eye and put on an exaggerated frown. “I’m sorry.” Yawning, she sat back up and rubbed her eyes. “I’m a light sleeper.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Lilly snorted and tossed the pile of blankets off of her. “Come on.” She crawled closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, planting a light kiss on his cheek. “We can go make it together. Like we always do.”

“Alright.” He smiled at her. “I guess that works too.”

With another kiss, they got up, dressed, and headed into the kitchen together. A pot of coffee was put on the stove, but their typical breakfast was foregone since it was already getting closer to lunchtime. When the coffee finished, Lilly poured herself a cup and sipped on it as they hung around the kitchen, chatting about their plans for the day ahead.

As she finished off her first cup of coffee, the distinct sound of the car returning could be heard in the distance.

“Sounds like we got up just in time,” Lilly said, moving to pour another cup. “Tommy’s coming.”

“Yeah…” Jack agreed.

He shuddered to think of how awkward it would’ve been if Tommy had come in and found them lying in his bed together. He probably would’ve killed him.

Or tried to, anyway. He wasn’t very threatening.

They listened, Lilly periodically sipping on her coffee, as the car got closer, eventually passing by the kitchen window.

“It’s nice how loud that car of his is,” Lilly remarked.

Jack furrowed his brows at her. “It is?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled. “You can always hear him coming. He can’t sneak up on you.”

He snickered. “Oh. Right.”

They went silent again when the car’s engine shut off, anticipating the footsteps that soon started thumping against the front porch. The door opened— of course he’d just barge in without knocking— and a slight breeze drifted into the house before it closed again.

“Hey!” Tommy’s voice echoed down the hall. “Where are you?”

“Kitchen!” Lilly called back.

Shoes clicked quickly toward the kitchen, and Tommy popped into the doorway.

Jack blinked when he laid eyes on him, barely recognizing him. His usual perfectly prim and proper getup was lacking today. His hair, which was always slicked back stiff and straight, was curly— just as curly as Lilly’s— and unkempt. His suit jacket was wrinkled, his tie was missing, and the top couple buttons of his shirt were undone.

“Hey, Tom,” Lilly greeted him. “You look like shit. What’s the occasion?” She chuckled, but there was an uneasiness behind it.

With a sigh, Tommy stepped farther into the room, running a hand through his curls. “Shut up, Lilly. I don’t wanna hear it.” His gaze shifted over to Jack, and he pointed at him. “I need to talk to you.”

Jack stood up straighter. “Alright…. About wh—”

“But first,” Tommy continued, crossing his arms and looking back and forth between them, “is there something you two wanna tell me?”

Jack paused and shot a confused glance in Lilly’s direction, silently asking what the hell he was talking about. She mirrored his confusion and shrugged before looking back at Tommy.

“Uh… should there be?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You tell me.”

Lilly sighed, set her coffee down on the counter, and crossed her arms. “Look, can we just skip to the part where you tell us what you’re on about? I don’t wanna play this game right now.”

His hands moved to his hips. “I just heard something interesting when I was leaving town this morning,” he said. “People talking about you two smooching and… putting your hands on each other in the middle of the street yesterday.”

The blood drained from Jack’s face. Of course people in town were already talking about that— and embellishing it to hell as they always did.

Lilly laughed. “Oh. Is that what they’re saying?” She scoffed. “That is not true. He dropped me off at work and I gave him a quick kiss goodbye. That’s it.”

“So it’s half true?”

Lilly’s lips pressed together. “I suppose.”

“Since when are you two that… close?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “And in the middle of the street? Really? You thought that was a good idea?”

“Since about a week ago,” she answered, stealing a glance at Jack. The ghost of a smirk appeared on her face. “And I never said it was a good idea. I thought it was quite a bad idea, actually— I knew those people wouldn’t like it. I just did it anyway.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You… are so ridiculous, you know that?”

Lilly hummed an affirmative.

“Also, a week? This has been going on for a week?” He gestured between them and then threw his hands up and scoffed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did, didn’t I?”

Tommy scowled. “I meant why didn’t you tell me soon—” He cut himself off with an abrupt sigh and clutched his temple. “Y’know what? Just forget it. It doesn’t matter.” Shifting focus, he nodded at Jack and then towards the front door. “Can you come outside with me? We need to talk.” With a glance at Lilly, he added, “Privately.”

Lilly scoffed a laugh. “Privately, huh? Okay. Guess I’ll just go fuck myself then.”

Tommy nodded and gave her a tight smile. “Good. Glad you understand.”

“Talk about what?” Jack interrupted, tensing. “Why can’t she hear?”

He could see it now: the second he stepped foot outside, Tommy was gonna lay into him. For kissing Lilly in the middle of the street— even though that hadn’t been his idea. For staying alone in the house with her. For sharing his bed with her last night— no, he couldn’t have known about that part. He wasn’t a psychic.

Probably.

Tommy looked him up and down and snorted. “Relax, kid. I’m not gonna rip your head off or anything,” he said, almost as if he had read Jack’s mind. “I just wanna talk about those papers you got.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at him. “Why can’t Lilly be there for that? I want her to know what’s going on too.”

“Because I said so,” he said, his voice gaining an edge of impatience. “So can you please not be difficult for once and just come with me? You can tell her everything I say afterward. I don’t care.”

Jack hesitated, shifting on his feet, and looked at Lilly for guidance.

She smiled at him. “Go ahead. It’s fine. You can tell me later.”

He gave her a small nod and turned back to Tommy. “Okay, fine. I’ll—”

“Great. Let’s go.”

Tommy didn’t wait for a response before turning his back on them and leaving the kitchen. His shoes clacked against the wooden floor as he made his way back out the front door, letting it swing half-shut behind him.

With a breath, Jack moved to follow him, but Lilly grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“Hold on,” she whispered.

“What?” he whispered back.

“There’s something off about him, isn’t there?” she asked, dropping his hand. “You see it?”

Was there? He looked down in thought for a moment. Tommy seemed to be more or less the same asshole he always was. Although, his appearance was noteworthy. He wasn’t nearly as put together as he normally was.

“Yeah, kinda,” he answered, raising his head. “The hair? He almost looks like a different person.”

She nodded. “Right. I can’t believe he left his room looking like that.”

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Tommy hadn’t slipped back inside. “What’s wrong with him? You think there’s something wrong with the papers?”

“No. It’s nothing to do with that. He was acting odd last night too— before I gave those to him,” Lilly said. She shifted and started fidgeting with her fingernails. “I think he’s upset with me. But he won’t tell me that— which is weird because he usually has no problem tellin’ me off, y’know? He’d normally jump at the chance.”

“Right….”

“And now he’s all disheveled-looking?” she continued, shaking her head. “I don’t know…. I’m kinda worried. Do you think you could figure out what’s going on with him?”

Jack looked at her like she was out of her mind. “What makes you think he’ll tell me? He hates me.”

She tsked. “That’s not true.”

“It definitely is,” he grumbled.

Sighing, she reached out and grabbed his hand again. “Just… try?”

He opened his mouth with full intent to argue, but when his eyes met hers, the words caught in his throat. She held his gaze intently, a slight pout to her lip that threatened to melt him entirely. God, he couldn’t say no to her….

“Okay,” he said, trying to hide the dread in his voice. “I’ll try.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

With that, Jack headed out to the porch, finding Tommy waiting outside, his back turned to him. He glanced over his shoulder as Jack shut the door behind him.

“Took you long enough.” He turned around and leaned back against the railing with his hands in his pockets. “Come here.”

Jack hesitated but rigidly stepped forward, bracing himself for whatever verbal lashing he was about to get.

To his surprise, Tommy only said, “Hold out your hand.”

Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “Why?”

“Just do it.”

Jack stiffened, balling his hands into stubborn fists at his sides.

Tsking, Tommy grabbed one of his wrists and yanked his hand out in front of him. Before Jack could pull away, Tommy uncurled his fist, pulled a small object out of his pocket, and placed it in his palm.

When Tommy released him, he examined it, finding it to be a small silver key. “What is this?” he asked, turning it around in his hand.

“It’s a key.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Jack said, shooting him a scowl. “But for what?”

“The car.”

Jack paused and furrowed his brows at him. “Why are you giving this—”

“You wanted to drive it, did you not?”

Jack blinked. “Wha— Seriously? But you said—”

“I know. I know what I said.” He waved a hand in the air as he spoke. “But I had a change of heart.”

Jack glanced down at the key in his hand and then back up at Tommy, his suspicion increasing. “Why?” he asked. “What’s the catch? What do you want?”

“No catch.” He shoved his hands back in his pockets and smiled. “Just tryin’ to be nice.”

“You want to be nice to me?” Jack let out a cynical laugh. “I’m supposed to believe that?”

Tommy shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because you hate me.”

“Oh, I do?” he asked, a hint of amusement seeping into his voice. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“You act like you do,” Jack said. “You act like I’m stupid and annoying.”

“You are stupid and annoying,” he said matter-of-factly. “But me telling you that isn’t me hating you. Me hating you would be me marchin’ up to that fuckface in Blackwater and telling him everything you’ve confessed to me. But I haven’t done that, have I?”

“Because you can’t,” Jack said. “Lawyers ain’t allowed to turn their people in. I know that.”

“Ah, but I’m not your lawyer, remember? We already had that conversation,” Tommy shot back. ”I’m just your friend.” He gave a lopsided smile and nudged Jack with his elbow. “Right?”

Jack stared at him, not knowing how to respond. His first instinct was to say no— Tommy was an asshole, and they would never be friends. But as he fidgeted with the car key in his hand, he was conflicted. While he was suspicious of Tommy’s motive, he didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to drive. He might never get another chance.

As he remained quiet, Tommy frowned and breathed out a sigh. “Well, fine then.” He held out his palm. “If you don’t wanna drive, gimme the key back.”

Closing his fist around the key, Jack snapped out of his silence and stammered, “Well, I—”

Tommy snorted and dropped his hand back down to his side. “That’s what I thought.” He nodded at the car parked by the barn. “So come on, yeah? Before I change my mind.”

With that, Tommy pushed himself off the railing and started heading to the car, not even looking back to check if Jack was following.

Jack lingered on the porch for a moment, staring in disbelief at the key in his hand. Tommy said he just wanted to talk about the papers; where the hell was this coming from? He’d just told him a week ago that he couldn’t drive the car, and now all of a sudden, he was handing him the key? To be nice?

Jack wasn’t buying it.

Still, he hopped off the porch and followed him to the car. When he got there, Tommy was already sitting in the passenger seat. He caught Jack’s eye and patted the empty spot in the driver’s seat.

Jack got closer, stopping right by the driver’s side door. Still skeptical, he fidgeted with the key in his hand and said, “I thought you wanted to talk about the papers I gave you.”

“I do,” Tommy said. “While we drive.” He slapped the empty seat again. “So hurry up and get in.”

Jack hesitated for another beat before slipping into the driver's seat. It was a bit of a squeeze— his knees nearly hit the steering wheel— and he squirmed as he tried to get his legs into a less awkward position.

Once he was as comfortable as he was gonna get, he held up the key and asked, “What do I do with this?”

“Hold onto it for now; I’ll show you how to start it in a second,” Tommy answered. “But first, I need to show you the controls, okay?”

Jack nodded.

“Okay.” Tommy leaned a little closer to him and pointed to his feet. “There’s three pedals at your feet. From left to right they’re the clutch, reverse, and brake.” Moving on, he tapped the steering wheel. “Up here, there’s a couple levers. The one on the right’s the throttle. And don’t worry about the one on the left for now; I’ll tell you if you need it.” He slapped his hands down on his lap. “Alright, any questions?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jack said, frowning at him. “What did all of those words mean?”

Tommy pressed his lips together and took a deep breath through his nose. “Oh, Christ,” he muttered, leaning back and rubbing his temple. “Why am I doing this?”

———

When they finally got on the road, the ride was a bit rough.

It was bumpy and hard to keep the wheel straight— every minor twitch of Jack’s hands seemed to send it veering off in another direction. The whole time, Tommy kept a tight grip on the passenger door as if he’d fly out at any moment.

But as they got farther from the ranch, Jack quickly got the hang of maneuvering the car. It wasn’t much harder than riding a horse, just different. And loud. And maybe a little terrifying, considering it wouldn’t have the sense to keep him from riding off a cliff like his horse would.

But he chose not to kill his fun by dwelling on that.

He was enjoying it. It was steadier than riding a horse— and didn’t make his backside as sore. He only wished that it was faster. The speed they were going was only slightly quicker than a horse’s trot and felt much slower than when he’d ridden as a passenger.

Feeling a surge of confidence, he turned to Tommy, who was still gripping the door like his life depended on it. “Can it go faster?”

“No.”

“Really?” he asked. “I swear you go faster than this when you—”

“I can go faster than this. You can’t.”

Jack frowned. “So it can go faster.”

“In theory,” he answered. “But we’re sticking with this speed right now.”

“But—”

“No.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped. “Fine.”

They continued down the road, the engine protesting as they climbed up and down the little hills rolling over the plains. When they reached a flatter stretch, the ride got smoother, and Tommy released his vice-like grip on the passenger door.

He watched Jack driving for a moment and then turned in his seat, scanning their surroundings in every direction.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Jack asked, “What are you doing?”

“Just makin’ sure there’s nothing around for you to hit before I start talking.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna hit anything.”

“You’re damn right you aren’t,” he mumbled, taking one last look around. Once he was satisfied, he sat back and said, “Alright, about the papers— I read through them all last night.”

Perking up, Jack asked, “Really? All of ‘em? What did you think?”

He stared quietly ahead for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

Jack’s heart sank like a stone in his chest. “It’s not enough?”

Of course it wasn’t. All that work, and it was all for nothing— it would still do no good. He shouldn’t have bothered. He—

“No, it is. It definitely is,” Tommy said, breaking his spiraling thoughts. “I’m sorry… that I didn’t believe you.”

“Oh.” He squirmed a bit. That was the last thing he was expecting to hear. “Uh, thanks?”

“It’s insane,” he said. “Seriously. I still can hardly believe it’s true, but… how do I argue with all that? Especially that telegram with the supreme asshole himself’s name on it.” He breathed an incredulous laugh. “I’m honestly impressed you managed to get all that stuff together. Never would’ve thought you had it in you.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Jack said, not taking his eyes off the road. “I just had to talk to a few people.”

“Yeah. And you wonder why I’m so ‘obsessed’ with talkin’ to people,” Tommy said. “It’s surprisingly effective, isn’t it?”

Jack frowned at his tone. “I guess.”

Tommy snickered and nudged his shoulder, making the steering wheel—and thus the car— jerk a little. “I mean it though. You did well. Truly.”

Tightening his grip to steady the wheel, Jack suppressed a smile, not wanting to show how much those words really meant to him.

Tommy continued, “It’s really a shame you had to go and kill that guy though.” He tsked. “Such a waste….”

Jack glanced away from the road to give him a look. “A waste? What are you talking about?”

“With everything you have… you could’ve ruined him— ruined that whole department,” he explained. “A fancy new federal agency holding an innocent woman and child hostage? Do you have any idea how outraged people would be about that?” He gave a wistful sigh and shook his head. “Just imagine it. Marston v. Bureau of Investigation. We could’ve been famous.”

“Wait. You think I should’ve taken Ross to court?” Jack asked with a snort. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he said, unfazed by Jack’s tone. “Haven’t you heard? It’s the new American way.” He gestured dramatically with his hands. “We don’t kill our enemies anymore. We ruin their lives in court instead. We make them wish they were dead.”

Jack scoffed. “That ain’t true. Courts kill people all the time.”

“That’s different,” Tommy said with a dismissive wave. “And they’re starting to move away from that now anyway.”

“Not here, they aren't,” Jack muttered. “Also, we could’ve been famous? I wouldn’t even have met you if I didn’t kill him.”

“You might’ve. You never know.” He shrugged. “But you do have a point. There’s no use getting caught up in hypotheticals. Let’s get back to now. We can still get something out of all this.”

“Okay. What’s the plan then?”

“Well, now that you’ve got proof, I wanna go back to that idea you had to use what they did— what he did— against Fordham.”

“I thought you said that idea was ridiculous,” Jack snarked, unable to resist rubbing it in his face a little.

“The idea wasn’t the problem. The lack of proof was,” Tommy said. “And that’s not a problem anymore. But we still need to be careful about how we do it. Blackmailing a federal agent is illegal. If he decides that’s what we’re doing, it could just get us in more trouble.”

Jack slouched. “So what do we do?”

“Don’t make it blackmail,” Tommy answered simply. “If we march in there and threaten him to do what we say or we’ll ruin his reputation, he’ll probably take issue with that. So instead, we can essentially tell him, ‘If you don’t do what we ask, then we’ll sue you, which, by consequence, would make everything you did come to public light.’

“And technically-speaking, that’s not blackmail. You’re not threatening to expose him. You’re threatening to sue him— which would just happen to have the unfortunate side effect of ruining him. You’re well within your rights to do that. We’d just be engaging in a little pre-litigation negotiation. Totally normal procedure, right?”

“Right…” Jack replied, despite having little clue what he just said.

“Of course, he’d definitely know what our game is. But legally speaking, we’d be sound. He couldn’t do anything about it.” Sighing, he continued on, starting to sound more like he was talking to himself, “It’s gonna take some preparation though— a few days maybe. I’ll have to draft up some legal documents to make it look like we mean business—and get a local attorney to sign off on things since I’m not supposed to practice in this state.” He took a deep breath and looked at Jack. “So? What do you say?”

Jack stared at the dirt road ahead, brows furrowed as Tommy’s words scrambled around in his head. That all sounded really complicated— way more complicated than he’d expected. He thought they would just go to his office, threaten him, and be done with it. Not whatever the hell Tommy just said.

“Y’know,” he said, though it pained him to say it, “Lilly told me she overheard Fordham ranting about how the whole case against me is already falling apart. So we might not even need to go through all—”

“No, we’re doing it,” Tommy interrupted harshly. “Fuck that guy. You should’ve shot him too.”

Jack widened his eyes, taken aback by his sharp shift in tone. “Huh?”

“You still could if you wanna.”

“Could what?”

“Shoot him.”

Jack blinked at him and repeated, “What?”

“You wanna go and do it?” he asked nonchalantly. “Right now? While I watch?”

Stunned, Jack stared back at him, taking occasional glances at the road to make sure he didn’t hit anything. He couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“I-I don’t think shooting him is gonna fix anything,” he said.

Tommy nodded, a mild look of disappointment settling onto his face. “No. It wouldn’t. I was just kidding.” Sighing, he slouched back and muttered, “Would be pretty satisfying though.”

Jack couldn’t argue with that…. But he was surprised Tommy felt the same way. Did he not just go off on some speech about how people don’t shoot their enemies anymore?

He said nothing in response and refocused on the road ahead, letting the conversation die. As they rode along, he occasionally stole a glance at Tommy, and with every look, he was starting to see more and more of what Lilly was talking about.

He definitely was a bit off. He sat there staring out at the road with his arms crossed, his jaw clenched, and a deep furrow in his brow. Between his sour expression and disheveled appearance— and his sudden bloodthirst, genuine or not, for Fordham— it was clear that something was going on.

He’d promised Lilly he’d try to find out what, so, while it pained him to do so, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Tommy looked over at him, seeming startled by the question at first. Then, he let out a short, humorless laugh and looked down at his feet. “Honestly,” he muttered. “I’ve been a lot better.”

“Oh.” Damn it. Jack was hoping he would lie and insist that everything was fine. But he didn’t, and now he was obligated to ask what was wrong. With a breath, he asked, “Did something happen?”

Tommy was quiet for another beat, contemplating the floor. Sighing, he lifted his head and pointed at a tree off the side of the road ahead of them. “Pull over up there for a minute.”

With a nod, Jack turned the wheel towards the tree and pushed the throttle lever up, causing the car to slow but not to a stop. Shit. How was he supposed to stop again? Panic rising in his chest as the car continued rolling towards the thick tree ahead, he turned to Tommy.

“Uh, how do I make it stop?”

Tommy pointed at his feet. “The brake pedal.”

Jack looked down at the three pedals, all of which looked exactly the same. He couldn’t remember which one Tommy had said was the brake. It definitely wasn’t the left one. Maybe the middle?

He hovered his foot over the peddle in the center, but before he could press down on it, Tommy stopped him. “No, not that one. It’s the one on the— Ah, shit. Move!”

Shoving Jack all the way back against his seat, he leaned over, pushed the right pedal down with his hand, and yanked the parking brake back, bringing the car to a stop just a foot away from the tree’s trunk.

Tommy straightened up and looked over the dashboard at the front of the car, sighing in relief when he saw that it hadn’t hit.

“I-I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I—”

“Shut up, kid,” Tommy said, plopping back down in his seat and rubbing his forehead. “It’s fine. Just… turn it off.” He pointed at the key in the ignition.

Hand shaking, Jack immediately reached over and turned the key, shutting the engine off. Then, he looked at Tommy expectantly, waiting for him to explain why they’d stopped.

He was quiet for a long moment, running his hand over his chin as he thought.

“What happened?” Jack prompted, the silence making him anxious.

He took a breath. “You remember when we were talking with Fordham and I asked him not to tell my mother about Lilly?”

Jack nodded slowly, his stomach sinking as he already sensed where this was going.

“Well, they went and told her anyway,” Tommy said, confirming his fears.

“Shit,” Jack whispered.

“Shit is right,” Tommy grumbled, slouching back. “She’s pissed. At me, especially.” He glanced up at the sky and shook his head. “She called the hotel I’m stayin’ at and just tore me apart. How could I not tell her I knew where Lilly was? How could I lie to her face for a year? Et cetera.”

“What about Lilly?” Jack asked.

Tommy kept on ranting as if he hadn’t heard him, “Even worse, she went over to my house and started interrogating my roommate, asking if he’s been aware of all this too. Which he has— I had to tell him. And now he’s upset with me too because—”

“What about Lilly?” Jack repeated impatiently. “What’d she say about her?”

Tommy paused and glanced away, shifting in his seat. “I don’t remember exactly. But she wants to talk to her. She’s threatening to hop on a train and come down here to see us. I was able to talk her out of doing it yesterday, but…” Trailing off, he sighed and rubbed his forehead.

Jack’s heart thumped. After everything he’d heard about Lilly’s mother, the last thing he wanted to do was meet her. “Do you think she’s actually going to?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past her,” Tommy muttered. “But I’m doing my best to stop that from happening.”

“What are you gonna do? Does Lilly know?”

“I don’t know. I’m figuring it out, alright?” he snapped. “And no. She doesn’t. That’s actually why I brought you out here. I need you to do me a favor.”

Jack looked at the steering wheel in front of him and scoffed. “I knew there was a catch.”

Tommy held up his palms. “There isn’t. You’re completely free to say no if you want.” He clasped his hands together and continued, “But I hope you can find it in your heart to help me. After everything I’ve done for you… all that money I’ve forked over. All while asking for nothing in return….”

“What?” Jack asked sharply. “What do you want?”

“I need you to tell her for me.”

Jack’s brows drew together. “Tell her?”

“Yeah. Tell Lilly that our mother knows she’s here now. And, y’know, everything else I just said.”

“What? Why can’t you tell her?” Jack stammered. “It’s your mother.”

“Listen,” Tommy said. “I just spent the entirety of yesterday afternoon being screamed at over the telephone. And the day before that? Same thing. I—”

“Why didn’t you just hang up?”

Tommy gaped at him. “Hang up on my mother? Are you fuckin’ insane? If I did that, she’d definitely take the next train down here just to come whack me upside the head.”

“Well…” Jack started, crossing his arms, “I still don’t see why that means you can’t tell Lilly.”

Tommy sighed. “It’s a complicated situation. Lilly is…” He trailed off and huffed, running his hand through his hair. In a softer voice, he admitted, “I just don’t wanna upset her.”

“So you want me to upset her?”

“No. I don’t want her to get upset at all,” Tommy snapped back. “And I think if she hears it from you, it won’t upset her as much. Because for some demented reason, she really likes you.”

Jack huffed and shook his head, still not getting it. How would hearing it from him make it any less hurtful for Lilly? He didn’t exactly have a way with words, and Tommy certainly knew that.

“Look, I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t have a sister,” Tommy said, his tone softening again. “But you don’t need to understand it. You just need to do it.”

Jack stiffened as those words slapped him across the face, dragging him back through a heaping pile of emotions that he’d repressed a long time ago.

He did have a sister. Or he almost did, at least. She died only a few days after birth. It tore his family apart for a while, cut a rift through the new peaceful life they’d been trying to build. Then, months passed, and her name was never spoken in the house again, just like the forbidden names of every other person they’d lost before.

So he supposed Tommy was right. He didn’t understand. He never got the chance to.

Looking Tommy over, an uncomfortable thought came to his mind. Would he have been just like him if his sister had survived? Just as obnoxious and overbearing towards anyone who tried to get close to her?

He couldn’t honestly say that he wouldn’t. Hell, he might’ve actually been worse.

“Please?” Tommy said, interrupting his thoughts.

There was a subtle yet unmistakable waver of desperation in his voice. Jack stared back at him, noting for the first time the dark circles under his eyes and the uncharacteristic slump in his shoulders. And suddenly, he didn’t feel like the same guy who’d been hurling insults at him for the past few weeks.

He looked worn-down and tired. He looked like the guy who’d been sticking his neck out for him— and for Lilly— over those few weeks. Seeing him that way made an uncomfortable heaviness settle into Jack’s chest.

Exhaling, he averted his gaze to the steering wheel. “Fine. I’ll tell her.”

A beat of silence passed.

Then, Tommy stammered, “Oh. Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Good.”

Jack glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re surprised?”

“A bit, yeah,” he said, breathing out a little laugh. “Thought for sure you were about to tell me to piss off.”

“Why?”

“Well, first off, because you were scowling at me for almost a full minute there,” he said. “And secondly, as you so eloquently put it earlier, because you hate me.”

“No I don’t,” Jack mumbled, barely moving his lips.

Tommy tilted his ear towards him. “Huh?”

“No I don’t,” he repeated, much louder than he intended. Cheeks heating up, he looked away to hide his face and immediately changed the subject. “Can we go now?”

Tommy was quiet, but Jack felt his eyes on him. He felt the smirk that was undoubtedly on his lips. He felt the urge to backtrack on everything he’d just said and punch it off his face.

Before he could entertain that urge, Tommy said, “Yeah. We should start heading back.” He turned the key and smiled when the car instantly roared back to life. “Look at that. Lucky start. Didn’t even have to get out and crank it.” Leaning back and slinging his arms over the back of the seat, he pointed down the road that circled back around to the ranch. “Disengage the brake, back it up, and go that way.”

“Wait,” Jack said, bemused, “I’m driving us back?”

He figured he would’ve been kicked out of the driver’s seat for that little incident earlier. Why would Tommy let him keep driving after he’d almost hit the only tree within a mile radius?

“No, you’re not. I was gonna tie some strings to your wrists and puppet you there,” Tommy deadpanned, miming pulling on some strings. He snorted. “Of course you are. Let’s go.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at that but didn’t question it. Getting back to business, he looked around at the controls and tried to remember which combination of pedals and levers would make the thing back up.

After a moment of fumbling, he asked Tommy, “How do I go backwards again?”

His face scrunched up as if the question physically pained him. Quickly replacing the expression with a strained smile, he answered, “Middle pedal is reverse.”

———

They made it back to the ranch without incident, and Jack brought the car to a stop by the house’s back door— this time remembering which was the brake. He pulled the handbrake to keep the car from rolling and opened the door, stretching out his legs.

“Hey,” Tommy said, grabbing Jack’s wrist before he could get out of the car.

Instinctively ripping his arm out of Tommy’s grip, Jack raised an eyebrow at him.

“Thank you,” he said.

Jack blinked at him. “Uh, sure.”

“I’m gonna go take care of that stuff I mentioned regarding Fordham. I’ll be back here in a few days,” he said. “Be ready, okay? I’m feelin’ optimistic about it.”

Jack nodded. “I will.”

“Alright. Great.” He gave him a pat on the shoulder and then made a shooing motion. “Now get outta my seat; I think you’ve stunk it up enough for one day.”

Jack scoffed and got out of the car, refusing to dignify that with a response. He just couldn’t stand to end a conversation on a pleasant note, could he?

Snickering at him, Tommy slid into the driver’s seat and gave Jack a little wave as he headed to the door. Jack stood outside the door and watched, frowning as he drove away from the ranch.

Once the car had disappeared behind the hills, he stared at the door and sighed, gathering the courage he needed for the unpleasant conversation he was about to have.

Holding his breath, he swung the door open and stepped inside. He immediately spotted Lilly in the living room, her back turned to him as she flipped through one of the books on the bookshelf. He released his breath, shut the door, and walked forward.

As he entered the room, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “Hey, there you are.” She turned to face him, cradling a book in her hands. “I heard the car. Did you guys go somewhere?”

“Kinda,” he said distractedly. “Uh, Tommy let me drive the car around for a while.”

“He did what?” she asked, breathing out an incredulous laugh. “Why?”

“He… um….” He cut himself off with a sigh and shook his head, choosing to get straight to the point. “I-I gotta tell you something.”

The soft smile on her face fell, and she set the book in her hand down on top of the bookshelf. “Okay.” Her voice was quiet and wary. “What?”

Biting his tongue, he gestured at the sofa. “You wanna sit down?”

A subtle look of alarm crossing her features, she swallowed hard and moved to the sofa. She sat down stiffly, and Jack followed suit, sitting just as rigidly beside her.

After a beat, he carefully started, “I… found out what’s wrong with Tommy.”

Lilly wordlessly stared back at him, waiting for him to continue.

Jack hesitated and looked away, unable to look her in the eyes. He wracked his brain, trying to decide how to say it. “He’s… Well… Your mother’s mad at him.”

Her jaw clenched, and she took in a slow, shaky breath. “Why?”

His leg shook, and he started wringing his hands. Not knowing how else to put it, he just blurted out, “Some of them agents went and told her you’re here. And… she ain’t too happy.”

Lilly stiffened, her face going white.

“Tommy said she was yellin’ at him over the telephone for not tellin’ her that he’s known where you’ve been this whole time,” Jack continued, desperate to just get it all out so he could stop talking. “He also said she’s threatening to take a train down to Blackwater.”

Lilly inhaled sharply, her brows drawing together in pain. Her hands shook, and she set them down in her lap, digging her fingernails into her knees.

Heart lurching, he immediately added, “But he’s trying to stop her from doin’ it.”

That didn’t appear to have the soothing effect he’d intended. Her expression didn’t change, and her breathing only became more uneven.

“And… and even if she does, I won’t let her come around here,” he said, desperately trying to reassure her. “I-I’ll get the law on her for trespassin’ or somethin’, okay?” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I won’t let her bother you.”

She looked at him lovingly and squeezed his hand back, but the distress never left her face. Closing her eyes, she lowered her head and took a series of deep breaths to collect herself, holding tightly onto his hand all the while.

Once her breathing steadied, she asked without looking up, “Why isn’t Tommy telling me all this?”

“He’s… upset about it,” Jack said. “So he asked me to tell you.”

Her head snapped up. “He’s upset?” she asked with a quiet, scornful laugh. “Why? He wanted me to quit hiding from her, and he got that. Now he’s upset about it?”

“I-I don’t know. He didn’t tell me that much,” he said. “But he’s comin’ back in a few days. You can talk to him about it then.”

She took a sharp breath through her nose and nodded. Pausing to think for a moment, she asked, “He said he’s trying to stop her?”

“Yeah. He is.”

She nodded again. “Okay.”

They fell silent again, and Lilly stared at the floor, returning to digging her nails into her knees. The distress that emanated off of her was almost palpable. It tortured him. He wished he could fix it, make all of it go away. She’d been so happy last night— so hopeful. He needed that back.

In an attempt to lift her spirits, he shifted to better news. “He also read through all those papers I got.”

“Yeah?” she asked with a sigh, lifting her head. “Anything come of it?”

Jack nodded. “He believes me now. We’re planning to go confront Fordham with all of it soon. Try to scare him into leavin’ me alone. Tommy said he feels good about it.” He rested his hand on top of hers. “It’s all almost over— like you said.”

“Good. That’s really good, Jack.” She smiled at him, but Jack could see the pain lingering behind it. “I’m happy for you.”

A pang shot through his heart. “Are you okay?” he asked. “C-Can I do anything?”

She shook her head and patted the hand he had on top of hers. “I’ll be fine. I knew this would happen eventually.” She gave him another pained smile, her lips shaking slightly. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. Not to him. Seeing her so upset— and trying so hard to keep it together— tore his heart in two. So much for hearing it from him being less painful for her. Tommy was full of shit.

Lilly cleared her throat. “I think I’m gonna go outside for a little while,” she said, moving to stand up. “I need some air.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jack nodded. “Alright.”

She rose to her feet and lightly touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry he dumped this on you.”

With that, she walked away, heading for the back door with her head down and her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

Jack’s eyes lingered on the door for long after it shut behind her, the silence that filled the room heavy. His heart ached, and his stomach churned with guilt. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for her pain. If it weren’t for him, none of this would be happening. Those agents never would’ve taken an interest in her. Her mother would’ve never found out where she was. She wouldn’t be so hurt.

Standing up, he peeked out the window and spotted Lilly sitting on the steps to the chicken coop, head in her hands as a couple of curious chickens poked around her. Her shoulders rose and fell erratically and— His heart shattered completely when he saw the faint glint of tears rolling down her cheeks.

His feet moved automatically towards the door, and he rushed outside, not bothering to shut it behind him. He jogged to Lilly, startling the chickens at her feet and sending them scattering in a mess of clucks and feathers.

Lilly looked up as he approached, her hair sticking to the tears on her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, halfway between a laugh and a sob. “This is ridiculous. I’m—” She hicced and wiped her cheeks. “I’m being so dramatic, I know.”

Jack shook his head. “You’re not.”

He knelt down beside her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. She buried her face in his shirt and let out another muffled sob.

Holding her tighter, he ran a hand over her hair and softly repeated, “You’re not.”

#tfw your stupid little sister's stupid little boyfriend almost crashes your car #jack marston #adult jack marston #rdr #rdr1 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #my writing #//my blessed son

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reddorkredemption · 3 months ago

Text

My Blessed Son—Chapter 25

|| AO3 || Chapter List / Story Info ||

Summary:

Word count: ~10,000

Chapter under the cut <3

A week passed by without much fanfare.

Tommy came by briefly the day after their visit with Sawicki to tell Jack he’d been successful in convincing him to take back his statements. Jack still had his qualms about that— it still gave him an icky feeling in his gut— but he chose to take the win for what it was.

After Tommy left, Jack didn’t hear from him again. He assumed that meant there was nothing of note going on regarding Fordham, and he wasn’t going to complain about that. He needed a break from it all.

He’d spent a lot of that week outside, walking around the ranch and enjoying the last moments of sun they’d get before winter fully took over. And when he wasn’t wandering outside, he was with Lilly.

They were settling into their new relationship, still a little awkward and unsure— or he was, at least. She greeted him with a kiss every morning, and every time, it made him weak in the knees. They’d cook breakfast together, talking and joking like they always had, and then work on the ranch chores side by side. At the end of the night, they pulled a random book off the shelf, curled up in front of the fireplace, and read it together.

The days were so blissfully uneventful— a brief reprieve from all of the stress surrounding the situation with the BOI. He was almost able to forget about it entirely, almost able to taste the freedom he’d feel once the whole thing was over.

That was, until that morning when the documents he’d requested from Leigh Johnson finally arrived on his doorstep in a large, bulky envelope.

Jack had spent most of the afternoon flipping through them, carefully reading them several times over. Many of the events referenced in them seemed to be taken straight out of his father’s journal. He pulled out the journal to compare, and sure enough, the related entries in it correlated almost perfectly with the story told in the documents. Grabbing a blank sheet of paper, he noted down every similarity. He’d love to see Tommy try to tell him the journal was all made up now.

In addition, many details were given about the marshal’s correspondence with the bureau, with Ross and Fordham being explicitly named several times. Most notable of all was a telegram among the documents— a brief message from none other than Archer Fordham himself, requesting that a guide be arranged for Jack’s father in New Austin.

With all of this, there was no way Fordham could deny what he’d done. And if what Tommy had said was true— that heads would roll if word of the bureau’s actions ever got out— he couldn’t wait to see the look on Fordham’s face when confronted with it all. Jack practically held his cushy career in the palm of his hand now; he could crush it at any time.

As he finished going through the papers, he stuffed them back into the envelope, along with his notes and his father’s journal. He planned to give them to Tommy later and reassert the idea of using all of it as leverage to get Fordham off his back. They now had all the proof Tommy could want— all the proof he so arrogantly assumed Jack could never get.

Moving on from the documents, he shifted focus to his other, albeit less damning, pieces of evidence: the letters he’d written to Charles for his mother. They had also arrived that morning, all packed into a single envelope postmarked from a small town in Canada.

Jack tore it open and dug out the stack of letters inside, setting them on his desk. Not wanting to read through them all and have to relive all the memories inside them, he only gave each one a cursory scan. One by one, he read just enough of the letters to tell what they were about and then slipped them into the envelope with the marshal’s documents.

He wasn’t thrilled that Tommy was going to be reading them— some of the contents were a bit personal, and he wasn’t exactly sensitive. Jack was dreading hearing whatever stupid, snarky thing he’d have to say about them. But if that was what it took to get him off the hook for killing Ross, he’d just have to suck up his pride and let it happen.

As he grabbed the final letter in the stack, he noticed that it had a strange weight to it. Furrowing his brows, he unfolded it, and a small object slipped out from between the folds in the page, clattering onto his desk.

He looked down, his breath hitching when he saw the glint of a golden ring topped with a small ruby— the exact ring his father had given his mother when they got married.

Setting the letter down, he picked it up and turned it in his fingers, unable to believe what he was seeing. He thought it was gone. His mother had lost it a few months before she died. He’d torn the house apart trying to find it for her, all to no avail. How on earth did it wind up tangled up in his mail?

His breathing turning shallow, he shoved the ring into his breast pocket and picked up the letter, the edges of the page wrinkling from the strength of his grip. Immediately, he was puzzled. It wasn’t in his handwriting like all the others were, and after a quick scan, he was certain that he’d never seen it before.

Starting at the top of the letter, he began reading it, the paper shaking as his hands trembled.

Charles,

(A trusted friend of mine is helping me write this.)

The doctor came by a week ago, and the news wasn’t good. Things have quickly gotten worse, and he doesn’t see me coming back from it. He says six months if I’m lucky.

Jack has taken it very hard. I’m worried for him. He’s back to shooting up birds in the sky. I thought he’d given it up when I got sick— all of it. He dropped everything to take care of me and the house. He was starting to seem more like himself, but I can feel him slipping away again. He promises he won’t do anything stupid, but it’s hard to believe him. I’m terrified of what will become of him and of what he’ll do when I’m no longer here to stop him.

I know you have your own family to worry about and that you can’t look after him from so far away. And I know he, like John, would do whatever he wants anyway, regardless of what anyone has to say about it. All I ask is that you remind him that he isn’t alone.

Also, I’m sure you’ve noticed I enclosed my ring with this letter. I want him to have it after I’m gone, and if I keep it, I’m afraid he’ll bury it with me. Please give it to him for me. Whenever you think the time is right.

(Please be discreet in your return letter should you write one. I don’t want Jack to know about this.)

—Abigail

When he reached the end of the letter, he threw the page down onto his desk as if it had burned him. He buried his head in his hands, fingers clenching around clumps of his hair.

His chest burned with a grief that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d always tried his best to avoid thinking about her death; he never really let himself process it. He pushed the memories down and buried them under any distraction he could find— alcohol, books, the whole Ross situation. But now she’d practically shown up on his doorstep to remind him, refusing to be ignored.

Reading that letter felt like ripping a bandage off an old wound, only to find that it hadn’t healed at all. It was still bleeding, still fresh as the day he got it.

As the grief festered, guilt crept in next, joining hands with it in a joint quest to tear him apart. Guilt for worrying her so terribly while she was already dealing with so much. And guilt for the fact that she was right to worry. After she left him, he had gone and done the exact stupid thing she’d been so worried about. The shame that brought him could’ve swallowed him whole.

A part of him was also furious at her. How could she lie to him about losing the ring? He had held her while she cried— sobbed— over it. She was so convincing. He had beaten himself up for weeks over his inability to find it, and the whole time, she knew exactly where it was.

He was mad at Charles too. Why hadn’t he warned him about this? They’d talked on the telephone for several minutes, and at no point did he mention it. He had the urge to pick up the phone right then and scream at him for it. How could he not say anything?

As his mind reeled, he was startled by the sound of music coming from the living room. A familiar tune his mother used to love to sing and play on their old piano, ‘Oh, Susanna’.

But he had to have been imagining it. The piano in the living room was broken; it was so out of tune it sounded like a dying animal. There was no way the even melody he was hearing was coming out of that thing.

He must have been losing his mind. The thin string tethering him to sanity had finally been snapped, and all it took was a simple little ring. His hands moved from his hair to cover his ears in an attempt to drown the music out, but all he did was muffle it slightly.

The song bounced around in his head incessantly, mocking his sorrow with its cheerful tune. He tried everything he could to shut his crazed brain up, resorting to jamming his fingers in his ears. It didn’t help. All it did was muffle the sound a fraction more.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: if the sound was only in his head, why did covering his ears muffle it?

His distress giving way to confusion, he took his fingers out of his ears, the music becoming clear again. Straightening up, he planted his feet on the floor, feeling the subtle vibrations of the sound reverberating through the house. He wasn’t imagining it; the piano actually was being played in the living room.

As the music continued, drowning out the thoughts in his head, he took a series of deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Once he felt he’d come back down to earth, he stood up, knees wobbling, and shuffled to the door to investigate the sound.

It got louder as he exited his bedroom and even louder as he walked down the hallway to the living room. He froze when he rounded the corner and found Lilly sitting in front of the piano, head down as her fingers worked the keys.

He didn’t interrupt her. He couldn’t. He was almost entranced by the melody— and shocked that it was coming out of that old piano. It had been a long time since any pleasant sound had come out of the thing; he never thought he’d see the day it came back to life.

Hell, she’d done more than just bring it back to life. He couldn’t recall it ever sounding this nice. The sound was so rich and clear, bouncing off the walls and filling the atmosphere with a warmth he hadn’t felt in that house in years. Every last note was perfect.

As Lilly reached the end of the song, the final note reverberating throughout the room, she rested her hands in her lap and smiled at him.

He stared back at her, dumbfounded. “You fixed it?”

“I did.”

“W-When?” he stammered. “I never heard.…”

Her smile turned sheepish. “I’ve been working on it for the past week or so whenever you were outside. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and studied the piano, still dumbstruck. “I thought you couldn’t fix it. You said it’s too hard.”

“I did think I couldn’t, but I decided to give it a try anyway.” She shrugged and ran her finger along a string of keys, the sound they produced perfectly in tune— as far as Jack could tell, anyway. “I just did the best I could.”

“The best you could?” he asked, breathing out an incredulous laugh. “It sounds perfect.”

“Sure. It’s perfect,” she said. “As long as you don’t touch the last few keys over there.” She gestured to the far right end of the piano. “Or this one.” She pressed a single black key near the center, causing a slightly off-key note to ring out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it. It just hates me.”

Jack chuckled and squeezed into the small spot beside her, the bench squeaking in protest as he sat down. “Still a lot better than it was.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” She smiled at the piano and then up at him. “It’s a work-in-progress, but at least I can play a whole song on it without wanting to gouge my ears out now.”

To illustrate her point, she placed her hands back on the piano and started playing to the tune of ‘Oh, Susanna’ again. He tensed a bit as the song pulled his thoughts back to the letter he’d just read and back to the ring that rested heavily in his shirt pocket. It weighed on his heart like a ton of bricks, sending an aching pain through the center of his chest.

The melody suddenly stopped, and Lilly pulled her hands away from the piano, furrowing her brows at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine,” he assured her. “It’s just—” His voice caught, and he took a breath. “My ma… She liked to play that song. It was one of her favorites.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Don’t be.” He shook his head and forced a bittersweet smile onto his face. “It’s nice to be able to hear it again.”

‘Nice’ may not have been the right word for it. It hurt. It hurt the way happy memories long since passed always did. But it hurt in a way that he didn’t want to stop. If those memories ever stopped hurting, it would mean he’d forgotten them. There were so many things he wanted to forget, but the sound of his mother playing the piano— no matter how out of tune it often was— wasn’t one of them.

Lilly rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. “You sure?”

With another shaky breath, he leaned into her embrace. “Yeah. Thanks for fixin’ it,” he said. “She would’ve loved to see it soundin’ so much better.”

She squeezed him. “Well, I wish I could’ve met her.”

“Me too.” He pulled away slightly to give her a sad smile. “She would’ve loved you.” After a beat, he added in a softer tone, “I love you.”

She hugged him even tighter. “I love you too.”

Jack leaned further into her embrace, resting his cheek on her hair as they fell into silence.

He’d never stop being grateful for her. Her presence always soothed him like nothing else did, always brought him from the brink without much effort at all. She was all he could ask for— and more.

It broke his heart that his parents would never get to meet the woman he loved. He wondered what it would’ve been like if they were still around— what they would’ve thought of her, how they would’ve interacted with her.

They probably would’ve been shocked that he found a woman who gave him the time of day. He certainly was. Ma would claim that she always knew he’d find someone, but he’d know she was lying. Pa would make some dumb joke about how he always thought Jack would end up marrying a book or something.

And he didn’t even want to think about what Uncle would have to say about their relationship. Probably something that would get him a one-way ticket to sleeping in the barn for a week— or for ten years if Pa got his way.

He could see Lilly having coffee with his mother in the morning— they both loved it more than anyone else he’d ever come across. And his father could’ve tried to teach her how to help with the ranch chores. He surely would’ve gotten a kick out of her proclivity for swearing like a sailor when she’s frustrated. He’d joke that she’s just like Ma in that regard.

Maybe Lilly would’ve even joined them for one of their nights gathered around the fire, where they’d sing and play music together. She could’ve played her violin for them. Shown them all what real, proper music sounds like.

He breathed a laugh at the thought.

Lilly lifted her head from his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at him. “What?”

He shook his head, a small smile remaining on his face. “Nothin’. Just remembering something.”

“Remembering something? And smiling about it?” she asked. “That’s… kinda unusual. What is it?”

“Nothing crazy,” he answered. “Just thinkin’ about how we used to sit out by the fire when I was a kid. Ma would sing, and I’d play the harmonica. Sometimes Uncle joined with his banjo— if he wasn’t too drunk, which was rare.”

She chuckled and then drew her brows together as if something had suddenly just occurred to her. “Wait.” She pulled away from him. “You can play the harmonica?”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

She grinned. “Wha— Why’d you never tell me that?”

He shrugged. “Never came up.”

“Only because you never brought it up.” She gave him a playful smack on the shoulder. “You have to play something for me.” Sitting up straighter, she continued, “Oh! Or better yet, we could play something together!”

“I-I don’t know.”

“What? C’mon, it’d be so fun.” She grabbed his arm and squeezed it. “Go get it. Please?”

“I, uh…” He trailed off, trying to think up an excuse.

He enjoyed all those nights playing the harmonica with his family as a kid, but he couldn’t say he was all that incredible at it. As silly as it sounded, the thought of playing for Lilly was a bit intimidating. She was so talented. She could play all these complex songs on these complex instruments— and she did it so beautifully and with such apparent ease. She’d even gotten a job doing it.

He knew he and his measly harmonica couldn’t hold a candle to her.

Just then, he remembered— she had to go back to work at the saloon today. At five-o-clock. She’d asked him that morning if he could give her a ride, and a glance at the clock told him it was nearing time for them to leave.

Thanking his luck, he asked, “Uh, don’t you have to go to work soon? Really soon?”

Lilly whipped around and looked at the clock, slouching when she saw the time. “Yeah. I do. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.” She sighed and pressed her lips together, shooting him a glare.

“What?” he asked, playing dumb. “I just don’t want you to be late.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Right. Okay.” With a sigh, she stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “Guess I better go get ready then.”

She took a step to start walking away but stopped short, suddenly hugging him from behind. “You are gonna play that harmonica for me eventually though,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re not getting out of it.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, breathing a laugh. “I kinda figured.”

She snickered and hugged him tighter, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Be right back.”

She pulled away, and he immediately missed her warmth. Smiling to himself, he looked over his shoulder and watched her walk down the hallway to her bedroom. Once she disappeared inside, his eyes shifted over to the mantel where his parents’ portrait hung.

His smile fell, and he slouched as catching his mother’s eye in the photo made his heart ache again. Placing his hand on his chest, he ran his fingertips over the ring in his pocket.

The words in her letter replayed in his head. He could almost hear them as if they were being spoken in her voice— all the concern and desperation woven throughout them. It brought the shame seeping back into his gut. He hated that he’d made her feel that way. He hated the boy she had written that letter about— that stupid kid so lost in his anger that he’d lost sight of everything else.

But he was doing a lot better now.

He wasn’t the boy spoken about in the letter anymore. And he hoped that somehow, she knew that. He hoped she could see all the progress he’d made, and he hoped she could forgive him for all the mistakes he’d made first. He had to believe that she could. It tore him apart too much to think that that desperation was the last thing he’d ever made her feel and that he’d never be able to change that.

With a shaky breath, he tore his eyes away from the portrait and looked back at the piano. He tapped a few keys, cutting into the overwhelming silence that had filled the room. Growing uncomfortable as the sound echoed throughout the room, he stood up and wandered back to his bedroom.

He grabbed the letter on his desk, folded it back up, and shoved it deep into a drawer. There was no way he was going to give that one to Tommy.

The thought brought his attention back to the thick envelope of papers sitting on the desk. He picked it up, deciding that he might as well go give it to Tommy after dropping Lilly off. Opening it up, he looked through the documents again to ensure that everything was in order— or, if he was honest, to distract himself from his lingering emotions.

After a few minutes, he heard Lilly call out from the living room, “Jack? Are you ready?”

“Yeah!” he shouted back, shoving the paper he was looking at back into the envelope. “Coming!”

———

Jack pulled back on the reins, slowing his horse to a stop outside the Blackwater Saloon. The streets were bustling with life— people and horses all going about their business as the end of their workday grew near.

Unfortunately for Lilly, her workday was only just beginning. She frowned at the building and sighed. Here’s to another ten riveting hours of playing the piano for a bunch of people too drunk to care.

Jack hopped off the saddle, giving his horse a pat on the neck before offering his hand to her. She took it, his calloused skin rough against hers, and jumped down, kicking up a small cloud of dirt as her feet hit the ground.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, squeezing his hand.

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze in return before releasing it. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh, and don’t worry about coming to pick me up later. Tommy’s gonna drive me home.”

“Alright,” he said, turning his back to her to start digging through his saddlebag. “Uh, speaking of Tommy, where’s he staying?” He pulled out a thick envelope and turned around, holding it up. “I need to go give him this.”

“He’s at the hotel. That big room on the second floor,” she answered, a lilt of curiosity in her voice. “What is it?”

“It’s all the stuff I got to prove what those agents did. Letters, records, stuff like that…. I put my pa’s journal in there too. Maybe he’ll believe it now with all the other stuff to back it up.”

“Sounds promising,” Lilly said with a nod. “Y’know, if you want, I can give it to him for you when I see him later.” Her expression turned playful. “Spare you from havin’ to speak to him. I’m sure you’re sick of him by now.”

Jack shrugged. “I actually haven’t heard from him in a few days.”

“What, you miss him or something?”

“Definitely not,” he replied without hesitation. “You can give it to him. Here.” He held the envelope out to her.

Snickering, she took it and held it in the crook of her arm.

Jack paused, glancing down in thought before asking, “We are sure he’s… okay though, right? It’s kinda weird that he hasn’t come around to talk my ear off in a while.”

“He is,” Lilly assured. “I talked to him over the telephone this morning. Sounded fine to me.”

“Okay. Good.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Look at you, worrying for his well-being even after what an ass he’s been to you.” Her expression softened. “You’re too sweet.”

He let out a nervous laugh, and his cheeks flushed slightly, as they always did whenever she’d say anything even mildly flirtatious. It made her heart stir in her chest; she’d always found it adorable.

“I dunno about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just don’t want him keelin’ over or something before he’s done helping me.”

Lilly stayed quiet, continuing to smile adoringly at him.

Jack smiled back at her, shifting on his feet as a beat of silence passed between them. “Well,” he said, slapping his palms on his thighs, “I guess I should get goin’ now. Uh, tell the bartenders I said hi.”

He turned to get back on his horse, but she grabbed his hand and made him face her again. “Wait. You forgot something.”

He furrowed his brows at her. “What?”

She licked her lips and glanced around, hesitating when she noticed how many people were scattered nearby, a few of whom were already staring at them. She knew what she wanted to do wasn’t proper— her mother had drilled all of those stupid, polite society rules into her head. She knew she’d be inviting stares and disdain and gossip. But she decided she didn’t care. People already talked about her— about both of them. They already gossiped about things that weren’t even true. What was there to lose?

“Lilly?” Jack prodded.

Tightening her arm around the envelope he’d given her, she looked him straight in the eyes. Then, with a quick breath, she stepped forward, threw her free arm around his neck, and pulled him into a kiss. He tensed at first but quickly relaxed, melting into her touch.

When they separated, they were met with several horrified stares from people around the street, as well as a couple of scoffs from a pair of older, fancifully-dressed women walking by.

“This generation, I swear,” one of the women grumbled as they scurried away, heels clacking and noses pointed in the air. “No respect for themselves!”

“Nor anyone else,” the other woman added.

Lilly snorted and rolled her eyes at them before returning her attention to Jack. His face was flushed, and he stared back at her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Giving him a mischievous smile, she brushed a lock of hair behind his ear and said, “I’ll see you later.”

“O-Okay.”

The smile remaining on her face, she took a step back, and Jack took that as his signal to leave. He moved to climb back onto his horse, his foot slipping out of the stirrup the first time he tried to hoist himself up. Lilly suppressed a giggle as he attempted a second time, this time getting up into the saddle with ease.

He gave her a final smile and a wave goodbye, which she returned. Then, he spurred his horse and took off down the street.

Lilly lingered on the sidewalk, watching as he rode away. When he rounded the corner out of sight, she hugged the envelope he’d given her against her chest and headed for the saloon’s entrance.

As she walked inside, she was immediately met with the familiar musky scent of the saloon and, more notably, with the wide-eyed stares of Mrs. Howard and Mr. Weaver. They stood behind the bar, their hands frozen in the middle of their respective tasks. Mrs. Howard tightly grasped a broom, her mouth agape. Mr. Weaver was in the middle of polishing a glass, though he appeared less stunned. Instead, there was amusement behind his eyes and a slight smirk playing at his lips.

Lilly stepped closer to them, stopping a few feet away from the bar. She stayed quiet and stared back at them, waiting for them to say something.

“Did you just…” Mrs. Howard finally spoke. “Did you just kiss him?”

Lilly shifted on her feet and hugged Jack’s envelope tighter, knowing she was about to be scolded for her impropriety. Clearing her throat, she answered simply, “Yes.”

For a moment, they were quiet again, their eyes boring into her. She tensed further, their silence and the anticipation of their disapproval threatening to swallow her. But to her surprise, the scolding she was expecting never came.

Instead, Mrs. Howard let out a delighted gasp, her hands releasing her broom and flying up to her face. As the broom clattered onto the floor, she scurried out from behind the bar and pulled Lilly into a tight hug.

Letting out a breath of relief, Lilly leaned into her, unable to fully return the hug because of the envelope wrapped in her arms. As they embraced, Lilly looked over Mrs. Howard’s shoulder at Mr. Weaver. He had resumed polishing the glass in his hands, and the smirk on his face was now more pronounced.

Unable to help herself, she smirked back at him.

Mrs. Howard quickly pulled back and planted her hands on Lilly’s shoulders, regaining her attention. “So you two are… together now?”

They were, weren’t they? It was almost hard to believe. All of that back and forth was finally over, and they were happy. She was happy. For the first time since she lost her father, she could honestly say that.

Slowly, a grin spread across her face, and she answered with a nod.

“Oh, finally!” Mrs. Howard exclaimed, pulling her in for another hug. “Every time I saw you two talkin’... the way you look at each other…. I just knew. I knew you’d end up together.” She pulled out of the hug and looked over her shoulder at Mr. Weaver. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“Uh huh,” he replied, not looking up from the glass he was cleaning. “I never heard the end of it.”

Lilly chuckled, and Mrs. Howard clicked her tongue at him.

“Ignore him,” she said, turning back to Lilly. She clasped her hands together and held them against her heart. “Goodness, I’m so happy for you. For both of you.”

Not knowing what else to say, Lilly smiled back at her and simply said, “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She paused, the grin on her face suddenly faltering. “However…” After a glance around, she gently grabbed Lilly’s arm and pulled her closer to the bar. Lowering her voice, she said, “I’m not quite sure how I feel about the two of you living together now. I hope you’re… behaving yourselves.”

A nervous laugh tumbled out of Lilly’s mouth. “What?”

“Fannie,” Mr. Weaver interrupted with a scoff. “Mind your own business.”

“What?” she asked, twirling around. “I’m just saying. They’re not married, so—”

“And I’m just sayin’ you should mind your own business.”

“Fine. Fine. I’m sorry.” She held up her palms in defeat. “I’m glad you two are happy. Just…” She sighed and leaned in closer to Lilly, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Try to behave, okay?”

Lilly fidgeted, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Uh, I-I plan to.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does he?”

“Alright.” Mr. Weaver set the glass he was cleaning down hard on the bar. “Lilly, why don’t you go get on that piano?” he said. “You’re supposed to have started five minutes ago. Owner doesn’t like payin’ us to stand around.”

“Right. Good idea,” Lilly said, latching onto the change in subject. “I’ll do that. Let me just put my things away first.”

She lowered her head and scurried around to the other side of the bar, giving Mr. Weaver a look of gratitude. He winked at her in response. Working quickly, she carefully placed Jack’s papers into a cabinet behind the bar and then headed straight for the piano.

As she settled into her seat and cracked her knuckles to prepare to start playing, she heard Mr. Weaver mutter to Mrs. Howard, “You’re terrible.”

“I am not!” she protested. “I was just—”

“Bein’ damn nosy. That’s what you were doin’.”

She scoffed. “You watch your mouth.”

Snickering at the exchange, she shook her head, placed her hands on the piano, and began to warm up for the night.

———

The night at the saloon passed by just like every other night did. By the time the night was winding down, Lilly’s hands were cramped from working the piano for so many hours straight. When the last drunk patron finally stumbled out the door, the bartenders waved her over to help them clean up behind the bar, and she left the piano without hesitation.

She got busy sweeping the floor, pausing frequently to crack her sore knuckles, while Mrs. Howard wiped down the bartop. Mr. Weaver stood beside them, cleaning all the glassware that had been used throughout the night.

For a while, they worked quietly, enjoying the silence after a long night of rowdy customers. Technically, they weren’t supposed to start cleaning up and putting things away yet— the saloon was still open, and the owner didn’t like to give the appearance of being unwelcoming. However, it was rare for new people to come in that late, so they’d all agreed to ignore that rule.

But if anyone asked, Lilly’s hands were on that piano until three-o-clock on the dot, and the bartenders were standing behind the bar, smiling and looking inviting.

Eventually, Mr. Weaver broke the silence with a clear of his throat. “Y’know,” he said, nodding at Lilly, “I met your brother the other day.”

“You did?” Lilly snorted and glanced up at him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Go through what?” He laughed. “I liked him.”

She paused her sweeping and straightened up, eyeing him skeptically. “Really?”

“Yeah. He was real friendly. Seemed like a fine man.”

Lilly blinked at him, letting the words hang in the air like they were the silliest thing she’d ever heard. “Okay.” With another snort, she shook her head and looked back down at the floor, continuing to sweep. “If you say so.”

“Alright, what am I missing?” he asked, tossing his rag onto the bar. “Jack wasn’t too fond of him either. What makes this guy such a bad person?”

Her broom froze again, the smile on her face faltering. “What? I never said he’s a bad person,” she said, her voice turning strained. “He’s just annoying. Overbearing. Not… bad.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” he said, holding his palms up. “I’m sorry.”

Lilly stammered a bit, flushing as she realized how defensive she’d gotten for no good reason. She wasn’t sure where that came from. “Right. Sorry. I-I didn’t mean to get defensive.” She lowered her tone, twisting the broom in her hand. “It’s just… as annoying as he is, he’s done a lot for me. He’s a good brother. In his own way….”

Mr. Weaver only nodded in response, giving her a warm, albeit slightly uncomfortable, smile.

“Aww, ain’t that sweet?” Mrs. Howard cooed from the other side of the bar. “Hey, maybe you should bring him around sometime so I can meet him too.”

Lilly turned to her and bluntly replied, “That’s not a good idea.”

“What?” she scoffed, furrowing her brows at Lilly’s sudden change in tone. “Why not?”

“Like I said, he’s annoying,“ she reminded her. ”And you know how you don’t like it when I swear? Who do you think I learned that from?”

Mr. Weaver chuckled. “I assumed it was your parents.”

“Nope,” she said matter-of-factly. “All him.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Howard grumbled. “I hope your momma yelled at him for teachin’ you all that.”

Lilly let out a laugh, though it came out more bitter than amused. “She didn’t. She was too busy yelling at me for mimicking him.”

The bartenders shifted on their feet, a beat of uncomfortable silence filling the air.

Mrs. Howard cleared her throat. “Oh. Well… if I ever do get the chance to meet him, I’ll be sure to yell at him for you.”

Lilly laughed— genuinely this time. The thought of her scolding Tommy for his mouth was priceless. If only Mrs. Howard had been her mother instead. “Thanks,” she said between chuckles. “But I think it’s better to just steer clear of him.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp rapping at the saloon’s back door.

“Ah!” Mr. Weaver clapped his hands together and turned to Mrs. Howard. “I bet that’s that shipment we were waiting on.”

She sighed and slung the rag she was cleaning with over her shoulder. “About time.”

“Huh?” Lilly asked.

“They’re delivering that last bit of liquor to replace what we lost a while back,” Mr. Weaver told her.

“They deliver things in the middle of the night?”

“They do now,” he said. “Less likely to get intercepted by the temperance lunatics that way.”

Lilly’s brows drew together. “Really? I would’ve figured the opposite.”

“Nah, they go to bed early on Saturdays. Not exactly criminal masterminds.” He chuckled and patted her shoulder. “You hold things down out here, okay? Shouldn’t be too long. Come get us if there’s a problem.”

“Sure,” Lilly said.

Mr. Weaver headed to the back, and Mrs. Howard gave Lilly a smile before following behind him. Lilly listened as the door leading into the back room shut followed by the slamming of the heavy exterior door as they went outside.

The saloon went dead quiet, the only sound being the scraping of Lilly’s broom as she continued sweeping. It was sort of eerie being in there without another soul around, but at least she didn’t have to deal with any patrons.

After a few minutes of quietly cleaning, the bell on the saloon’s side door rang, indicating an arrival. She glanced up, expecting to see the bartenders and wondering why they hadn’t just come in through the back. Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw a couple of bureau agents sauntering in instead— one of them being the man behind all of Jack’s recent troubles, Fordham.

He walked in with his head down, eyes shielded by the signature bowler hat on his head. The other was dressed similarly and briefly made eye contact with her as he walked inside.

Lilly turned her back to them before Fordham could look up too, not wanting to risk him recognizing her. Her breathing quickening, she kept sweeping her broom across the same spot on the floor in an attempt to act natural. As she did so, she took a few peeks over her shoulder, observing the men.

Luckily, Fordham didn’t appear concerned with her presence. He went straight to a table by the door and sat down with his back turned to her. The other agent stood beside him, gabbing about what they should order to drink.

Lilly had the urge to go and run out the back door to get away from them, but before she could, the agent accompanying Fordham left the table and started heading for the bar.

She put her head down and kept sweeping, listening as his footsteps echoed through the empty saloon, getting closer. When they finally stopped in front of the bar, she kept her back turned, pretending not to notice him.

He lingered behind her for a moment, his presence making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. When she still didn’t acknowledge him, he snapped his fingers at her, as if she were a dog.

“Hello?” he called to her. “Excuse me?”

Irritation rushed underneath her skin, shoving some of her anxiety away. Snapping? Really? What kind of asshole…. Gripping her broom tighter, she looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him.

He tapped on the bar. “I need two whiskeys.”

“I’m not a bartender,” she said, keeping her voice low to avoid drawing Fordham’s attention. “You’ll have to wait for one of them to come back. They’re—”

He breathed out a condescending laugh. “What, you’re incapable of pouring some liquid in a glass?”

Lilly paused and bit her tongue. Why was every single one of these guys so unpleasant? Was it a requirement for the job or something? Desperate to get rid of him, she turned to face him, pressed her lips together, and forced a tight smile. “Alright. I’ll do it. Just a minute.”

Dropping her broom and grabbing a random bottle of whiskey off the shelf, she knelt down behind the bar, her face falling into a scowl the second she was out of his sight. She pulled out a couple of the dirty glasses that Mr. Weaver hadn’t gotten around to cleaning yet and set them down on the floor in front of her.

She opened the bottle of whiskey, wrestling with it for a few seconds before the top finally popped off, and filled the glasses. Not knowing exactly how much she was supposed to pour, she just filled them up halfway.

She had half a mind to finish them off by spitting in them, but she was afraid the guy would hear her or peek over the bar and see her. So she decided that the dirty glasses would have to be insult enough.

Rising to her feet, she set the glasses down hard on the bar in front of him and forced the smile back onto her face.

“Thank you,” he said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could do it.”

Lilly clenched her jaw. She definitely should have spit in them…. Taking a sharp breath, she said, “Not at all. That’ll be seventy-five cents.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. “Seventy-five cents for a couple of whiskeys….” Sighing, he produced a few quarters and tossed them onto the bar. “What is the world coming to, eh?”

She stared blankly at him, having no desire to commiserate with him on the state of the economy— or whatever the hell he was on about. With a disinterested sigh, she asked, “Is that all?”

Her tone gave him pause, but only for a brief moment. “It sure is.” He grabbed the glasses and stepped back from the bar. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She glared at the back of his head as he returned to the table. ‘Dickhead,’ she mouthed, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. She slammed it back down onto the shelf, the glass clinking and the liquid inside sloshing violently.

She frowned at the men as they settled into their seats and started chatting, making it clear they had no intentions of leaving anytime soon. The back door called to her again, urging her to leave. She needed to get out of there before she was recognized.

She took the first step towards the door but froze when Fordham’s voice reached her ears. His tone was sharp and biting— nothing like she would expect from two coworkers having a friendly drink together. Glancing at the table, she saw him throw his hands up in frustration as he spoke.

She looked back at the door, giving it a final consideration before turning away from it. Curiosity piqued, she picked her broom up and moved to the end of the bar closest to them. Positioning herself where she could see them without being too conspicuous, she pretended to keep cleaning and listened in.

The agent who’d ordered the drinks held up a hand to get a word in. “What exactly did he say?”

“He said he ‘made a mistake’,” Fordham answered. “The kid wasn’t who talked to him. The man he talked to looked similar, but he didn’t have the same build, and he was much older.”

Lilly recalled Jack telling her something about Tommy bribing a guy— a former bureau agent who had told him where Ross lived. She assumed that must’ve been what they were talking about. And by the tone of his voice, it was clear Fordham wasn’t happy with the outcome of that. Hopefully he didn’t suspect anything….

“I think he’s full of it. I think he’s just saying that to get back at me,” Fordham continued. “He knows how important the identification he gave is. He knows how much was riding on that. It was one of the only sure things we had.”

Well, that was reassuring. Tommy had claimed they didn’t have much evidence against Jack, but hearing it straight from Fordham’s mouth was especially sweet.

“Well, what about that other thing?” the other agent asked, taking a sip of his whiskey. “You were going to that ranch the kid said he was at, weren’t you?”

“Yes. We went.”

“Anything come of that?”

Fordham huffed. “No. The people who own the place said he was there. They were very confident in the matter.” He snatched up his drink and gestured with it as he continued, “We even asked the other ranch hands, and they all said he was there. One of them went off on a rant about having to clean up after him after he vomited in their wagon.” He scoffed. “Can you believe the dedication those people have to lying for him? It’s ridiculous.”

Thank God for those people, Lilly thought. She wondered if they actually knew they’d been lying for him. He had been at that ranch a while ago, after all. Just not when he told the bureau he was. Either way, she was grateful for them.

“Huh.” The other agent leaned back in his seat and scratched his chin, pausing in thought. “All of them said he was there?”

“All of them.”

He hummed. “Well… maybe they weren’t lying then.”

Fordham’s hand froze in the middle of raising his glass to his lips. “What?”

“Maybe he was there,” he clarified. “Maybe… he didn’t do it.”

The soft scraping of Lilly’s broom stopped, and she listened more intently, a slight smile crossing her face. This conversation just kept getting better, didn’t it?

A beat of silence passed, and Fordham put his glass down without taking a sip. “Of course he did,” he said. “Y-You don’t actually think that—”

“One person lying for him would be one thing. But a whole ranch full of people, and everyone said he was there?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Seems kinda cut and dry to me….”

“It was him,” Fordham insisted, his voice strained. “It was. Nothing else makes sense.”

“To you. Nothing else makes sense to you,” the other man shot back. “Have you even considered any other possibilities? Because from the outside, it doesn’t look like this kid had anything to do with it.”

“Exactly. From the outside. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice rose. “I’ve been working on this case for months; you haven’t. You don’t know all the facts.”

There was a pause, and Lilly could feel the tension filling the air between them.

When the man finally replied, his voice was quieter. “You know, I’m starting to think you just want it to be him.”

Fordham scoffed. “What? Why would I—”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe if you can convince yourself he’s just another lowlife, it’ll make you feel less guilty for what happened to him. For everything you did.”

“That is—” He stopped and stammered a bit, growing flustered. “That is completely ridiculous. This has nothing to do with—”

“I’m just saying. Maybe you should consider the fact that you might be a little too close to this. Get someone else to deal with it.” He paused to take a slow sip of his drink. When he pulled the glass from his lips, he stared into it and added in a lower tone that Lilly almost didn’t catch, “Or better yet… just let it go. I don’t understand why you care this much anyway.”

Fordham cocked his head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Swirling his glass, he mumbled, “It wasn’t exactly… undeserved.”

“What are you saying?”

He sighed. “Can we just be honest with each other? That guy, Ross? He was a complete ass. You oughta know that better than anyone.”

Lilly’s eyebrows shot up at that, and she had to suppress a laugh of disbelief. This guy was surprisingly insightful; she was starting to feel glad that she hadn’t spit in his drink.

He continued, “I don’t know how you could stand working with him for so long. I would’ve blown my head off within a week.” He breathed out a laugh. “The way he acted? The long list of people he pissed off? He was asking to get shot someday.”

Fordham stared back at him, the silence heavy. “Are you insane?” he hissed. “I could have you fired for saying that.”

The other agent snorted at that. “Go ahead, Archer.” Shaking his head, he took the last gulp of his drink and slammed the empty glass onto the table. “Set me free.”

“Alright, we’re done here.” Fordham stood up, his chair scraping harshly against the floor, and shoved a finger in the other agent’s face. “You are way out of line. We’ll be discussing this in my office tomorrow morning. First thing.”

Throwing his hands up, he protested, “I don’t work on Sunday.”

“You do now.”

Without giving him a chance to argue, Fordham turned to head for the door. As he faced her, his eyes met hers. Heart jumping into her throat, she immediately looked away, gluing her gaze to the floor. She could feel him staring— could feel the tension in the room rise as he realized who she was and that she had likely just heard everything he said. She didn’t dare raise her head again.

His eyes were trained on her for what felt like an eternity, and her hands tightened around her broom until her knuckles turned pale. What if he came up to her? She’d never talked to him before, never even been this close to him. She would have no idea what to say. Maybe she shouldn’t say anything at all. That was probably best. That was what her brother would tell her to do. Never talk to the cops. Ever.

He huffed, and Lilly allowed herself a quick glance up at him, just in time to watch him start stomping towards the exit.

Once he was gone, she slowly raised her head, watching as the front door swung back and forth from the force with which he’d shoved it open. Breathing a sigh of relief, she relaxed her hands, her palms stinging from her nails digging into them.

The other agent let out a heavy sigh, bringing her attention to him. Slamming his hands down on his thighs, he stood up and headed for the exit, muttering to himself about something Lilly couldn’t make out.

Pausing in front of the door, he turned around and pointed at her. “You didn’t see or hear any of that, by the way.”

“Any of what?” she asked, tilting her head and feigning innocence.

He eyed her for several uncomfortable seconds before giving a single nod. “Good.”

With that, he turned back around, shoved the door open, and left.

Her eyes lingered on the door, and a smirk crept its way onto her face. Joke’s on him; she definitely had heard all of it. And boy was she gonna enjoy telling Jack and Tommy every word.

———

Lilly stared at the clock behind the bar, watching as the second hand made its final round on the way to three-o-clock. When it finally passed twelve, she grinned and set the broom in her hand against the wall.

Crouching down behind the bar, she pulled Jack’s papers out of the cupboard where she’d stashed them. Not wasting any time, she said a quick goodbye to the bartenders, not even waiting for them to respond before rushing straight to the door.

“You two behave yourselves!” Mrs. Howard reminded her as she pushed the door open.

Lilly suppressed an eye roll. “We will!”

The chill of the night air hit her the moment she stepped outside, and she couldn’t stop herself from shivering as she scanned the street in search of her brother. It didn’t take long for her to spot him— the sleek black motorcar he drove around in wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. It was parked at the corner of the street, right in front of the general store.

Tommy sat slouching in the driver’s seat, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the steering wheel. He seemed lost in thought, too much so to notice that she had come outside.

Tucking Jack’s papers under her arm, she eagerly started towards him, the dull clacking of her shoes echoing through the empty streets. She couldn’t wait to tell him everything she’d overheard. He was gonna love it.

When she reached the car, she excitedly slammed her hand down on top of the passenger-side door. “Tommy!”

Tommy bolted upright and turned to look at her, eyes wide. As he took in the sight of her, the surprise on his face quickly turned to anger. “Jesus fucking Christ, Lilly!” he snapped, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. “You scared the shit out of me! Why are you yelling?”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his reaction. “Woah,” she said, brows drawing together in concern. “What’s wrong with you?”

He blinked back at her a few times before shaking his head and steeling his expression. “Nothing. Just—” He cleared his throat and turned away from her. “Just get in the car.”

After a brief hesitation, she opened the door and cautiously slid into the seat beside him, setting the envelope of papers down on her lap. She eyed Tommy as he started fumbling around with the pockets of his coat, seemingly a bit flustered.

“Sorry,” she said, beginning to feel guilty for startling him. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I figured you heard me coming.”

He only offered her a quick glance in response as he continued digging through his coat pockets. When he didn’t find what he was looking for in his coat, he huffed and moved on to his pants pockets. “Where the hell is—”

“The key is in the car.” Lilly pointed at the key sitting in the ignition. “If that’s what you’re looking for.”

He froze and frowned at the key. “Right,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “I knew that.”

“Okay.”

Sighing, Tommy turned the key and then hopped out of the car to give the engine a quick crank. The car roared to life without a hitch, its loud rumbling piercing through the quiet night, no doubt pissing off the sleeping residents of Blackwater.

Tommy got back in the driver’s seat, shutting the door a little too hard, and disengaged the brake without a word. Lilly watched him as they began to slowly roll down the street, her eyes fixated on his expression— on the slight furrow in his brow and the downward turn of his lips. It was so different from that usual smug expression that was eternally plastered onto his face. It made her uneasy.

He glanced over at her and then down at the envelope resting in her lap. “What’cha got there?”

“Oh, um, it’s something Jack wanted me to give you.” She lifted up the envelope, holding it closer to his line of sight. “It’s a bunch of papers and stuff he got to prove what those agents did to his family a few years ago. Since you said you needed proof.”

“Okay, great,” he said flatly, returning his gaze to the road. “Just leave it on the seat or somethin’ after I drop you off. I’ll look at it at some point.”

She set the papers back on her lap. “Alright….”

They went quiet as they turned down the street that led out of Blackwater, Tommy never taking his eyes off of the road and Lilly never taking her eyes off of Tommy.

‘Okay, great’? That’s it? She figured he’d have more to say about the papers than that, seeing as he thought Jack’s whole story was ridiculous. She’d expected some kind of sarcastic remark at the least.

Something was seriously off about him. The way he’d freaked out when she startled him, the sullen expression on his face, the slump in his shoulders— he never slouched.

“Quit staring at me, Lilly,” he said, giving her a side-glance. “I hate that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she blurted out. “And don’t say it’s nothing again. I know that’s not true.”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re really not gonna tell me?”

“No. I’m really not.”

She chewed on her lip. “Is it about Jack?”

“No.”

“Is it about me?”

For half a second, he hesitated. Anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed it, but to her, it was unmistakable. “No,” he said, turning his head to look her in the eyes. “Will you please just drop it? I’m trying to drive.”

She held his eye for a moment and then, with a resigned sigh, slouched back in her seat.

So it was about her. His reaction had made that clear. And the fact that he wouldn’t tell her that caused a hint of anxiety to stir in her chest. What could be so bad that he couldn’t tell her?

Despite her unease, she chose to let it go for now. Trying to pry anything out of him was pointless. He was a closed book, wrapped in chains and padlocked. That was a great thing if you’d told him some secret you wanted him to keep, but not so much when you wanted him to tell you something.

But at least it wasn’t anything to do with Jack. She could take some comfort in that. He was fine— more than fine, based on what she’d overheard in the bar. That was what really mattered.

She sighed and drummed her fingers against the envelope in her lap. “Well… whatever’s wrong with you,” she said, “I think I have something that’ll make you feel a little better.”

Tommy gave a disinterested hum. “And what’s that?”

“You know that Fordham guy?” she asked.

His lip twitched, and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Uh huh.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at his fists. “Uh, he came into the bar tonight with another one of those agents.”

He straightened up a bit and raised an eyebrow at her. “Really? Did he talk to you?”

“No. But I did overhear some things you might be interested in.”

“Such as?”

Lilly smiled and began her recount of events by simply stating, “He’s starting to fall apart because of you.”Tommy looked back at the road and smirked. Lilly’s smile widened; she knew that’d lift his spirits. But despite the slight upturn in his mood, his response came out gruff and drenched with bitterness. “Good.”

#jack marston #adult jack marston #rdr #rdr1 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #my writing #//my blessed son

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reddorkredemption · 3 months ago

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I am obsessed with his little hat and his shit-ass attitude

#<3 #jack marston

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reddorkredemption · 3 months ago

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HE'S MY SONNNNN

#fuck ass ponytail <3 #jack marston #adult jack marston

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reddorkredemption · 4 months ago

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My Blessed Son—Chapter 24

|| AO3 || Chapter List / Story Info ||

Summary:

Word count: ~10k

Chapter under the cut <3

Jack held his breath, steadying himself as he scraped his knife across the surface of the bare, wooden birdhouse he’d spent the better part of the afternoon building. He had gotten straight to work on it after finishing up his morning chores, quietly slipping into the shed so Lilly wouldn’t catch wind of what he was doing. He wanted to surprise her with it when it was finished.

It was taking a lot longer than it ought to have. Building a birdhouse should’ve been quick and simple for him, but he had obsessed over getting every piece lined up perfectly. Then, at the last minute, he’d decided to carve an intricate design into it, adding even more time to the process.

But now, after hours of being cooped up in that stuffy shed, it was finally getting close to done. Just one more stroke of the knife….

As he finished the final carving, he let out his breath and stood up straight, the muscles in his neck aching from being hunched over for so long. Setting his knife down, he ran his fingertips over the grooves in the wood, ensuring that the design was smooth. Once satisfied, he gently set the birdhouse down on his work table and stepped back to look over his work.

As he examined it, he was filled with pride. It was coming out perfect— even better than he’d expected it to. All of that time he’d wasted as a kid, carving up pieces of wood while on the run with his parents had actually been good for something. Maybe he’d gone a bit overboard with the ornateness, but he wanted it to be special.

And so far, it was.

But of course, it was still missing one final, vitally important thing: the paint. He grabbed the two tiny cans of paint he’d bought the day before— red and black, just as Lilly had described— and set them on the table. Choosing to start with the red, he opened the can, a satisfying pop echoing off the walls of the shed, and grabbed a small paintbrush.

Dipping the brush in the paint, he leaned over the birdhouse again, ignoring the protest of his sore shoulders. He dragged the brush across the wood, working just as slowly and meticulously as he had for every previous step in the process.

After several minutes of painting, the sound of footsteps approaching the shed pricked his ears. He tensed at first, fearing that it was Lilly, and his surprise was about to be ruined. As the footsteps got closer, however, he relaxed. They were too heavy to be hers.

He kept on painting, assuming it had to be Tommy. He’d heard the car arrive at the ranch a while ago but had been too engrossed in his task to go out and greet him. That, and he wasn’t exactly eager to talk to Tommy after their meeting with Fordham yesterday. Lilly said that she’d managed to talk him down after he’d stormed off, but Jack was still wary. He wasn’t in the mood for another fight about it.

The footsteps stopped right outside the shed, and as expected, Tommy popped his head in the doorway.

“There you are,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “I couldn’t find you anywhere. Not even Lilly knew where you were hiding.” He stepped into the shed, his dress shoes clacking hard against the floor. “Come out here. I need to talk to you.”

Jack didn’t react to him. Biting down on his lip, he leaned even closer to the birdhouse, not allowing his focus to waver. He couldn’t mess this up.

Tommy came a little closer, waving a hand in front of him. “Hello?” He paused and waited for an answer, but Jack still didn’t acknowledge him. Scoffing, he muttered, “Okay, well, fuck me, apparently….”

Jack’s paintbrush stilled, and he breathed a heavy sigh out of his nose. Lifting his head to scowl at Tommy, he snapped, “Can you be quiet? I’m trying to concentrate.” With that, he quietly resumed painting, hoping Tommy would take the hint to get lost.

Of course, he didn’t. Tommy lingered, staring at him for a moment before coming even closer. He positioned himself right behind Jack, looking over his shoulder to see what he was working on. Jack fought the urge to squirm and kept painting.

“What are you doing?” Tommy asked, leaning in until his breath brushed Jack’s neck. He snorted. “Buildin’ yourself a little dollhouse?”

“No,” Jack mumbled without looking up. “I’m building a birdhouse. For Lilly.”

“For Lilly?” he echoed. “What does Lilly need a birdhouse for?”

“To house birds.”

“Oh. Ha. Very funny.” The eye roll was almost audible in his voice. “Did she ask you to do that?”

Irritated by the barrage of questions, Jack groaned and slapped his paintbrush down on the table, splattering red paint across its surface. “No,” he snapped, turning around to face Tommy. “She didn’t ask me to. I just wanted to.” And before Tommy could ask why, he continued, “She’s been kinda sad the past few days. About her dad.” His demeanor softened a bit as he thought of her. “She said he used to love the birds, and he had a little birdhouse in the garden back home. So I—”

Tommy’s brows drew together. “He did?”

Jack mirrored the confusion on his face. He figured Tommy would’ve known about the birdhouse; it was his father too, after all. As weird as it still was that he could possibly be related to Lilly….

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Tommy said, huffing. “That guy rarely ever spoke to me; how would I know that?”

Awkwardness settled into the air, and Jack shifted on his feet, unsure of how to respond to that. He’d just assumed that Tommy must’ve had the same experience with their father as Lilly. But apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Growing uncomfortable, he broke eye contact and forced the conversation back to Lilly. “Well… he did have one. So I’m buildin’ her one just like it. To cheer her up.” Dropping his voice to a grumble, he added, “And it’d be a lot easier without you breathing down my neck.”

Tommy blinked at him a few times and then glanced at the birdhouse on the table, his brows drawing together as he pondered it.

“So if you’ll excuse me…” Jack said, turning away from him. He picked his paintbrush up but hesitated before getting back to work. He was certain that Tommy was going to continue harassing him, and he didn’t want to be interrupted again.

Surprisingly, Tommy only sighed. “How much longer is it gonna take?”

Jack glanced over his shoulder, eyeing him skeptically. “I don’t know. An hour?” he replied. “I just need to finish painting and let it dry.”

Again, he braced himself for some kind of protest, but again, there was none.

“Fine.” He stepped away from Jack. “Come find me outside when you’re done.”

“Okay,” Jack stammered, taken aback by his sudden agreeableness. He watched with furrowed brows as Tommy began making his way to the door. “A-And don’t tell Lilly about this,” he called after him. “I want it to be a surprise.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ to,” he responded, not looking back as he exited the shed.

Jack stared at the doorway a moment longer after he disappeared, his brows still knitted together. That was odd. That guy was the most impatient person Jack knew. Why had he backed down so easily?

He shook the thought from his head; it didn’t really matter. He needed to get back to work. Refocusing on the birdhouse, he coated his brush with a fresh layer of red paint and kept painting, making sure every last stroke was perfect. He wouldn’t settle for any less.

———

Thanks to his obsessive precision, finishing the birdhouse took a bit longer than the hour he’d estimated— probably closer to an hour and a half if he had to guess. But luckily, and strangely, he hadn’t been bothered that entire time.

He examined the finished birdhouse, repeatedly tapping his fingertips against the painted surface and checking his skin to make sure none of the paint transferred. He smiled when his fingers came back clean after the final poke. The paint could probably use a little more time to set completely, but he figured it would be fine to go ahead and put it outside now.

He left the table briefly to root through a box of tools in the corner, producing a handful of nails and an old hammer. Then, he gently scooped up the birdhouse, cradling it in the crook of his arm as he left the shed.

He squinted when the sunlight hit his face and froze to give his eyes a second to adjust. Once he could see more clearly, he scanned the area in search of Lilly, but all he saw was Tommy sitting at the table in the gazebo, surrounded by a cloud of cigarette smoke. Jack slowly started towards him, continuing to look for her as he walked, but he still couldn’t find her around anywhere. She must have been inside.

That was fine, he decided. Originally, he’d wanted to give it to her and let her choose where to put it, but on second thought, he resolved that it would be better to hang it up himself. And since she spent so much of her free time there, putting it somewhere by the gazebo was the obvious choice.

Once he reached the gazebo, he kept walking past it, heading for a patch of brush about ten feet away. There, he zeroed in on a small tree; it was thin and sparse, but he thought it should be plenty sturdy enough to hold the birdhouse.

He set it on his palm and held it up to the tree, moving it around to find the best spot to hang it. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. He found a spot that he thought would work, but he couldn’t get far enough away to tell if it would look good from the gazebo. He didn’t want to nail it in place just to find out it looked terrible from afar.

Glancing over his shoulder, he caught the eye of Tommy, who was watching him intently, his cigarette hanging loosely out of his mouth.

“Hey!” Jack shouted out to him.

He raised his eyebrows.

Nodding up at the birdhouse balanced on his palm, he asked, “Does this look okay right here?”

Tommy glanced at it for a few brief seconds and then shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.” He took the cigarette out of his mouth and waved it around dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Jack frowned. He clearly wasn’t taking this seriously. “Are you sure?”

He laughed. “What, you think I’d hold back if I thought it looked like shit?”

Jack pursed his lips. He did have a point there. Tommy would never pass up a free opportunity to be an asshole.

Shaking his head, Tommy reassured him, “It looks good. Just hang it up and quit obsessing over it.”

Good. Good was better than fine, at least. Jack shifted his gaze back to the birdhouse, his lip quirking as he examined it again. He still wasn’t certain, but as much as it pained him to do so, he chose to trust Tommy’s judgment. Carefully lining up a few nails, he hammered the birdhouse in place.

After giving it a gentle tug to ensure it was stable, he headed to the gazebo, hopping over the railing to get inside. His boots hit the wooden floor hard, making the chairs and table shake.

Tommy snorted at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You couldn’t walk around like a normal human being?”

Jack only rolled his eyes in response before turning his back on him to take a look at the birdhouse.

He couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips when he laid eyes on it. Tommy hadn’t lied; it did look good. It looked better than good. The bright colors of the paint stood out nicely from the surrounding brush, and the sunlight highlighted every groove and curve of the design he’d painstakingly carved into it. It was, by all accounts, perfect.

Nearly bouncing on his feet from excitement, he turned back to Tommy. “Where’s Lilly?”

“She’s asleep inside,” he answered, tapping some ash off his cigarette. He pointed it at Jack, his voice turning harsher. ”And you better not go wake her up, okay? She needs the sleep.”

“Okay. I won’t,” he said, holding his palms up defensively.

As much as he couldn’t wait to show it to her, he couldn’t argue that she did need some rest after the stress of the past few days. He couldn’t recall the last time she’d gotten a full night’s sleep— if she’d ever gotten one as long as he’d known her.

Sitting down in the chair across from Tommy, he asked, “Why does she do that, by the way?”

“Why does she sleep?” Tommy asked, smirking at him as if he were stupid.

“No,” Jack said, irritation seeping into his voice. “I meant, why does she avoid sleeping until she’s just about to pass out?”

Tommy shrugged. “She’s always been that way— as far as I can remember, anyway. Used to piss me off when we were kids. She wouldn’t quit wakin’ me up all the time.” He looked down in thought for a second. “I suppose it has gotten a bit worse since our father died though.” He raised his cigarette, but his hand froze before it reached his lips. A subtle, gloomy look settling onto his face, he murmured, “A lot of things changed about her after that.”

Jack felt a pang in his heart for Lilly. Then, just as it had in the shed, awkwardness crept in, and he squirmed a bit. He wasn’t used to Tommy showing this much emotion— or any emotion at all. Hell, sometimes he doubted whether the guy was even a real human being. The apparent sadness on his face was uncanny, and Jack didn’t have a clue how to respond to it. So he just sat there stiffly, staring at him.

Tommy straightened up and shook the gloom off his face, bringing the cigarette the rest of the way to his lips. “She seems to be more herself now though. A lot better than the day she left home.”

That was relieving to hear, at least. Jack often worried that being here with him— and all of the chaos that surrounded him— was only bringing her down. It was reassuring to know that she was at least happier with him than she was back home.

Scratching his chin, Tommy looked out at the birdhouse Jack had put up, quietly contemplating it. After a moment, he said, without taking his eyes off it, “I appreciate you doing that for her.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at him, studying his face, searching for signs of sarcasm. He was bewildered when he didn’t find any. As far as he could tell, the statement of gratitude was entirely genuine. Tommy was being genuine. That was a string of words he never thought would ever be put together.

What the hell was going on? Who was this guy? It was kind of disconcerting, especially considering how upset he’d been after the meeting with Fordham.

Tommy peeled his eyes away from the birdhouse and cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, shaking his head. He stood up and snuffed out his cigarette. “Come on. We need to get going.”

“Get going? Where are we going?” Jack asked, rising from his seat as well.

Tommy nodded at the car parked in front of the barn. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

“Okay….” He glanced back at the birdhouse. “Wait, but—”

“You can show it to her when we get back, Romeo. It’s not goin’ anywhere.” Tommy slapped him on the shoulder and began walking to the car.

Jack stared at the back of his head as he strolled away, his eyes wide. Romeo? Did that mean Tommy could tell how he felt about Lilly? How did he know? Had she said something to him?

Halfway to the car, Tommy glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he saw that Jack hadn’t moved. “Get moving!”

Jack’s legs started moving automatically. He kept his head down as he followed Tommy to the car, trying not to let the embarrassment creeping onto his cheeks show. When he reached the car, he climbed into the passenger seat beside Tommy and kept his eyes to the floor as they started moving out of the ranch.

Once they’d turned onto the long stretch of road that winded down to Blackwater, Tommy said, “I went lookin’ for that guy last night— that bureau agent who told ‘em you asked him about Ross.”

Jack scooted a little closer to him so he could hear him more clearly over the roar of the car’s engine. “Did you find him?”

“No,” he said. “I did talk to a couple of people in town who were familiar with him though.”

“And?”

“Apparently, he’s been frequenting the bar in town these past few days. Getting drunk, despairing, ranting about ‘that piece of shit, Fordham,’ who fired him.” He shrugged and glanced at Jack, a slight smirk on his face. “You know. All the normal things people do when their life is fallin’ apart.”

“I’m guessing that’s where we’re going then?”

“Sure is, Jackie.”

Jack frowned— both because he was getting sick of Tommy calling him ‘Jackie’ and because he wasn’t thrilled to hear they were going to the saloon. That musty old place only brought back unpleasant memories now— and temptation.

“And why are we going there?” he asked.

“Because I wanna talk to the guy.” Tommy said. “Obviously.”

“Yeah, but why?” Jack pressed. “I don’t get your obsession with talking to everyone.”

A hint of irritation flashed across his face, and he opened his mouth as if he were going to argue. But before anything came out, he snapped his lips shut. Taking a quick breath, he calmly explained, “I want to convince him to take back what he said. To go and tell them he made a mistake. That it actually wasn’t you who asked him about Ross.”

Jack’s brows furrowed. “He can do that?”

“Sure. If he wants to.”

Jack was skeptical. Even if the guy wanted to, which by itself seemed unlikely, how could he just take back what he said? The damage had already been done; the bureau was already suspicious of him. He doubted that agent telling them he made a mistake would change that. He voiced his concerns, “But even if he did, there’s no way they’d just believe him, right?”

“Oh, definitely not,” Tommy said, chuckling. Before Jack could protest, he raised one hand off the steering wheel and quickly added, “But. It’d at least cast a little doubt.”

That only increased Jack’s skepticism. If it wasn’t gonna help that much, what was the point? “So?” he said. “What good is a little doubt gonna do?”

Tommy sighed out of his nose and muttered under his breath, ”You really just have a problem with everything, don’t you?” He took a breath and slowly explained, “A little doubt is all you really need. The idea is to chip away at everything they have against you. If you put enough cracks in something, eventually, the whole thing falls apart.”

“Maybe…” Jack said. “But still, how do you plan to get him to agree to doing that?” As soon as the words left his mouth, another question came to mind: “And why are you making me come with you? You can’t do this on your own?”

“Well, first of all, you dragged me into this mess, so I think it’s my right to drag your ass around with me to fix it. Second—”

“I recall you draggin’ yourself into it,” Jack retorted.

Tommy pressed his lips together and side-eyed him. “Second,” he continued, ignoring the interruption, “I honestly don’t have much of a plan. I’m just gonna figure it out when we get there. Hopefully he is actually there today.”

Jack mumbled, “That’s reassuring….”

“You’re right. It is. I’m very good at thinking on my feet.” Tommy smiled at him. “Especially when it comes to running my big mouth.”

Involuntarily, a little laugh tumbled out of Jack’s mouth, and he immediately threw his hand up to stifle it.

“Ha! I knew that’d get you.” Tommy snickered and shook his head, looking back out at the road in front of them. “I finally broke Mr. Scowls-a-lot. Might need to write home about that one.”

“Shut up,” Jack said, keeping his hand cupped over his mouth. “It wasn’t even that funny. And it was only kinda funny ‘cause you’re annoying, and I didn’t think you could be that self-aware about it.” He crossed his arms and slouched back in his seat.

Tommy chuckled, not taking his eyes off the road. “Hey, I’ll take it.” His tone became a bit more serious. “But seriously. Quit worrying so much— and more importantly, quit whining so much. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“We’ll see,” Jack mumbled.

“Yes, we will.”

They went quiet, and Jack stared straight ahead at the dirt road in front of them, the rattling of the engine filling the silence. After a while, his eyes drifted down to the dashboard, to the various knobs and levers that controlled the vehicle, and to the steering wheel that Tommy gripped tightly in his hands.

He’d always found motorcars interesting, ever since they first started popping up, but he’d never gotten to take a real close look inside one. Sure, he’d ridden in it yesterday to get to the meeting with Fordham, but he was a nervous wreck the whole time. His mind hadn’t even registered that he was on Earth, much less that he was in a car.

He watched Tommy’s hands as they maneuvered the steering wheel. Then, his eyes shifted down to the three pedals at his feet. It all looked kinda complicated to operate, but he appeared to do it with ease.

Jack wondered if there was any chance he would show him how to drive it. On any other day, it would’ve struck him as a ridiculous thought, but Tommy did seem to be in an unusually good mood today….

Breaking the silence, he asked, “Is that hard?”

“Huh?”

“Driving the car,” he clarified. “Is it hard?”

“For me? No.” Tommy snorted and glanced over at him. “For you? Maybe.”

Jack frowned at him but quickly shook off his offense. “I always thought the automobiles were real neat. Never got to drive one though,” he said, continuing to watch him maneuver the steering wheel.

”That’s nice,” Tommy said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“They were always too expensive; we never had enough money for one,” Jack continued. “And even if we did, Pa didn’t like ‘em, so he wouldn’t’ve bought one anyway.”

Tommy clicked his tongue. “Well, if you ever manage to get your shit together, you can go and buy yourself one.”

”Maybe. I’m not sure yet if I’d want to. I’ve never driven before; what if I hate it?”

Tommy shrugged.

Jack ran his hand along the back of his plush leather seat. “And I doubt anyone would just let me try it out for a bit.” He paused before adding, “You’re the only person I know who even owns a car….”

Narrowing his eyes, Tommy turned his head just enough to look at him and shot him down with a firm, “Not happenin’, kid.”

Jack slouched. Damn. He thought he was being subtle.

Dejected, he went back to staring out at the road with his arms crossed. He was stupid for thinking there was a chance of Tommy letting him drive the car anyway. Hell would freeze over before that ever happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tommy steal a few glances at him. He sighed and said, “Although…”

Turning his head slightly, Jack raised an eyebrow.

He finished, “I suppose you could honk the horn. If you want.”

“Really?”

Tommy answered by leaning back from the steering wheel and motioning to the little horn on the left side of it, as if inviting him to have at it.

Jack stared at it for a moment, hesitating. Then, unable to help himself, he jutted his arm out and reached across Tommy to give the horn a quick squeeze. The thing let out a blaring, almost comical honk that echoed down the empty road in front of them. Fighting off a smile, he pulled his arm back, returned it to its crossed position, and kept staring forward.

Tommy chuckled at him and repositioned himself closer to the wheel, continuing to drive them down the road to Blackwater in silence.

———

Tommy parked the car in the street in front of the saloon and immediately got out. Jack hesitated to follow, staying still in his seat as he observed the building. There was a tarp stretched over the window that had been broken a while ago, and the patio around the side was empty of the poker players that could normally be found there. Of greater concern, however, were the two lawmen loitering outside the door, scanning the area around the saloon. It made him uneasy. What were they doing there?

From the sidewalk, Tommy urged him to hurry up and get out of the car, making the lawmen stare at him inquisitively. Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to himself, Jack complied, keeping his head down as he dragged his feet to the entrance.

When he got there, Tommy opened the door for him, waving him inside with a sarcastic, “Ladies first.”

Eager to get out of sight of those lawmen, Jack went straight inside, not even bothering to shoot him a scowl for the stupid comment.

The familiar musty scent of the saloon filled his nose the moment he stepped through the door. The piano played a lively tune, blending with the sound of glasses clinking and patrons chatting amongst themselves. Looking around, there was a decent number of people inside, but much fewer than Jack would’ve expected for the saloon at that time of day. Not that he was complaining, of course. The smaller the crowd, the better.

Jack continued to glance around as he and Tommy headed to the bar, trying to see if that agent was among the patrons. As far as he could tell, he wasn’t. Jack wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved by that.

As they got closer to the bar, Mr. Weaver caught his eye. “Well, look who it is,” he said, giving Jack a welcoming smile. “How ya doin’, son?”

“I’m fine.” Jack stopped in front of the bar, and Tommy stopped right beside him. Glancing over his shoulder, he asked, “What’s the law standing outside for?”

Mr. Weaver’s smile fell. “Ah. That.” He let out a weary sigh and leaned against the bar. “The owner asked them to. He doesn’t want any more incidents with them temperance folks.” He shook his head. “Horrible idea though, if ya ask me. Sure, it keeps them lunatics from runnin’ people off, but now it’s the law hoverin’ around that’s runnin’ ‘em off.”

Jack nodded sympathetically. If not for Tommy, they probably would’ve run him off too. But it was a relief to hear that that was all they were standing out there for.

Butting into the conversation, Tommy asked, “Why does that run people off? They do a lot of illegal things in here?”

The bartender’s eyes shifted over to him. “Uh, no comment.”

“Hm. Smart man,” Tommy said, a small smile playing at his lips.

Mr. Weaver chuckled and glanced back at Jack. “Who’s your friend here?”

“We’re not friends,” Jack corrected. “He’s—”

“We’re not?” Tommy asked, placing his hand on his chest and feigning hurt. “Well, that just breaks my heart.”

He got another small laugh out of Mr. Weaver, but Jack just rolled his eyes. “He’s Lilly’s brother.”

Weaver’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, wow. Can’t say I was expecting that.” He chuckled and crossed his arms, looking Tommy up and down. “Guess I can kinda see it though…. I remember her mentioning havin’ a brother a few times— what was your name again?”

“Tommy.” He smiled and extended his hand across the bar.

Mr. Weaver stared at his hand, a mild expression of amusement crossing his face. “Well, you’re a real proper one, aint’cha?” He laughed and accepted the handshake. “Milford Weaver.”

Jack bit his tongue. Proper definitely wasn’t a word he’d use to describe Tommy. Maybe he was in appearance, but when he opened his mouth? He made Jack look polite.

“Weaver,” Tommy repeated, seeming to recognize the name. “Were you the one who got Lilly that job playin’ the piano?”

“Wasn’t only me. Our regular pianist vouched for her too.” He gestured at the man playing the piano a few feet away. “As did Mrs. Howard. But yeah. You could say I was pretty influential in the decision.”

“Thank you.” Tommy’s voice softened. “Truly.”

“Nothin’ to thank me for. She’s good at what she does; it’s been a pleasure havin’ her around.” He shot a sly glance in Jack’s direction and then pointed at him. “She’s even helped tame this nightmare here a little bit.”

Jack scowled at him.

Tommy laughed incredulously. “Really? He used to be worse than this?”

Mr. Weaver gave a slow nod. “Oh, yes.”

Jack’s scowl deepened. Seriously? He was standing right in front of them….

“Oh, don’t gimme that look,” Mr. Weaver teased. “You should take that as a compliment. It means you’re better now.”

Jack wiped the scowl from his face and pressed his lips together. He guessed that was true; he had come a long way from being that drunk kid always getting himself into fights. Still, he didn’t appreciate them joking about it. Lowering his head, he mumbled, “Whatever.”

“Hey, don’t make me take it back now,” Weaver joked.

Jack didn’t respond.

“Alright, I’m done,” he said, chuckling. “What are you boys doin’ here? Just gettin’ a drink or…?”

“Actually, we’re looking for someone,” Tommy said. “Do you know a Howard Sawicki? I heard he’s been seen hangin’ around here recently.”

Mr. Weaver shifted his weight, resting his hand on the bar. “Uh, yeah, I know him, but… why are you lookin’ for him?” He looked at Jack, raising an eyebrow. “He doesn’t exactly seem like the kinda company you keep.”

Jack shrugged and nodded at Tommy. “I’m only lookin’ for him because he’s lookin’ for him.”

“For what?”

“It’s a long story,” Tommy answered. “And not a very interesting one. We just need to talk to him. Is he here?”

Mr. Weaver eyed him, clearly picking up on his caginess. “Alright, then,” he said, “I won’t pry….” Sighing, he pointed behind them. “Y’see that table back in the corner there?”

Jack followed his finger, his eyes landing on a disheveled-looking man sitting with his back turned to them and his head resting on the table. Sitting in front of him were a couple of empty glasses and a folded-up pair of spectacles. Jack never would’ve recognized him; he didn’t look anything like the well-put-together agent he remembered speaking to.

“That’s him,” Weaver said. “But I’m not sure now is such a good time to talk to him. He just lost his job recently, so he ain’t been in the best mood.”

Tommy perked up and shook his head. “Won’t be a problem at all.” He tapped his finger on the bar top. “Could you get me two glasses of brandy, please?”

“Brandy?” Mr. Weaver breathed out a laugh and glanced over his shoulder at the empty shelves behind him. “Do you see any brandy back there, son?” He shook his head and sighed. “We got wiped out a little while ago, I’m afraid. Still haven’t recovered. All we’ve got right now is cheap beer, watered down whiskey, and some moonshine we bought from some freaks in the forest.”

Tommy pointed his thumb back at Sawicki. “Well, what’s he drinking?”

“The shine.”

Tommy faltered a bit. “Oh. Okay. Great. That’s fine. I guess….” He cleared his throat and flashed a strained smile. “I’ll settle for a couple of those then.”

Jack looked at him like he was crazy. Tommy, of all people, was gonna drink moonshine? Jack had tried it before during one of those nights he spent at the saloon, and the only thing he remembered from that night was that it was awful. It tasted like pure poison and burned like it too. There was no way someone like Tommy could handle it.

Mr. Weaver slapped his hand down on the bar and turned around to start fixing the drinks. “Comin’ right up.”

A snicker tumbled out of Jack’s mouth as he watched him crouch down and pull a hidden bottle of moonshine out of a cabinet.

“What are you giggling about?” Tommy asked.

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you ever drank moonshine before?”

“No. Of course not,” he said. “Why?”

“It’s really strong. I think you should ask for somethin’ else.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. I can handle it.”

Jack shrugged and looked down at the bar. “Just trying to warn you.”

“You worry about yourself, kid.”

“Okay,” he agreed with another shrug. If Tommy didn’t want to listen, then that was that. He’d just have to find out the hard way. “Whatever you say.”

The bartender returned with two small glasses full of clear liquor. “It’s gonna be a dollar,” he said as he set them on the bar in front of Tommy.

“Here.” Tommy dug in his pocket, counted out some money, and tossed it on the bar. “There's a little extra there for you,” he said as he picked the glasses up. “You’re the first sane person I’ve met in this godforsaken town.”

“Well, thank you kindly,” Weaver laughed, grabbing the money off the counter and happily pocketing the extra.

Tommy stepped away from the bar with the drinks. “You stay here,” he told Jack. “I’ll wave you over if I need you.”

Jack watched as he approached the table where Sawicki sat with his head down.

“Hey, buddy!” He set the glasses of moonshine down on the table and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You doin’ alright over here?”

Sawicki lifted his head and squinted at him. “Do I know you?”

“You’re about to.” Tommy grinned and sat down across from him, sliding one of the drinks closer to him.

“I like that guy,” Mr. Weaver said, regaining Jack’s attention. “He seems nice.”

Jack couldn’t help but scoff. Nice? Tommy? That was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Maybe he was on his best behavior today, but nice? No. “He’s not,” he said. “Trust me.”

“No?” Weaver’s brows furrowed, and he glanced back at Tommy, observing him for a moment. He shook his head. “I don’t know. I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Apparently, you’re not.”

He frowned. “Alright,” he said, his voice losing its good humor. “Do you want somethin’ too or are you just gonna stand here and be abrasive?”

“No,” Jack answered automatically. “I don’t want anything.” Lowering his head, he added a mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Okay.” He took a step back from the bar. “In that case, I have some things to attend to. Try to behave yourself, alright?”

Jack nodded, and Mr. Weaver left, disappearing into the saloon’s back room.

He turned around and leaned back against the bar, shifting his attention back to Tommy, who was now fully engaged in a conversation with Sawicki. From where he stood, he couldn’t make out what they were saying, but things didn’t seem to be going badly.

Sawicki’s back was turned to him, so he couldn’t get a read on his expression, but Tommy appeared at ease. He sat back comfortably in his chair, holding his glass of moonshine by the rim, and nodding along whenever Sawicki spoke. At one point, he even chuckled a bit at something that was said. It was odd how he was able to do that— just walk up to anyone and start talking to them like they were an old friend.

Shaking his head, Tommy casually raised the glass in his hand to his lips. He took a tiny sip of the moonshine, and instantly, his face contorted in a mixture of pain and disgust. Jack smirked as he jerked the glass away from his mouth and let out a few sharp coughs. Told you so, dumbass.

Almost as if he’d read his mind, Tommy’s eyes darted over to him, and he narrowed them when he saw the smirk on Jack’s face. He held his gaze for only a moment before looking back at Sawicki with a strained smile.

Sawicki leaned in and said something, and Tommy waved him off, the disgust still clear on his face despite his attempts to conceal it. He relaxed back in his seat again, his hand moving to cup the top of his glass, making it clear he had no intention of taking another sip.

Their conversation carried on, Tommy occasionally raising his fist to his mouth and clearing his throat as the effects of the moonshine lingered. Jack continued to watch them, growing somewhat disinterested as their little talk didn’t appear to be going anywhere.

That was, until Tommy suddenly straightened up at something that was said and began to listen a little more intently. Curiosity getting the better of him, Jack pushed himself off the bar and wandered over to the other end of it, trying to get into a position where he could overhear. Straining, he was just able to make out their voices over the sound of the piano.

Tommy asked, “You’re talkin’ about Archer Fordham right? I actually met him yesterday.” He swirled the glass in his hand and wrinkled his nose at it before setting it down hard on the table. “Couldn’t stand him.”

Sawicki perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Biggest fucking dickhead I’ve ever had the displeasure of speakin’ to.” Tommy snorted. “It’s honestly impressive how far he’s managed to get his head up his own ass. It’s quite a feat to be that insufferable.”

Jack thought that was kind of ironic coming from Tommy, but he didn’t disagree with it….

“Right,” Sawicki agreed. “I’m glad someone sees it. I only ever hear about how great he is.”

Tommy chuckled. “Well, you certainly aren’t gonna hear that from me.” His gaze flitted over to Jack, and they made eye contact for a brief second. Looking back at Sawicki, he said, “Y’know, believe it or not, I think I have a friend who hates him even more than you do right now. Probably more than both of us combined.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Jack swallowed. Oh, God. He was about to make him go over there, wasn’t he?

His fears were confirmed when Tommy’s eyes met his again. He snapped his fingers a couple of times and beckoned him to come join them.

Not having much choice, Jack took a breath and started towards them, his boots heavy against the floor. As he reached the table, Sawicki turned around, his expression changing the second he laid eyes on him. The recognition in his eyes was clear, as was the anger that quickly set in as he looked Jack over.

“You?” His voice rose, and he sat straight up. “You—”

“Hey, hey,” Tommy cut him off, “let’s slow down a little bit.”

He took his eyes off of Jack and narrowed them at Tommy. Glancing back and forth between them, he asked, “What’s going on here?”

“Jack, sit down,” Tommy said, motioning to the chair beside him.

Stiffly, Jack pulled out the chair and sat down, gluing his eyes to the table to avoid the fury in Sawicki’s stare.

“Now,” Tommy started, “I understand you think you’ve met my friend here before, but—”

“I don’t think I’ve met him. I know I have,” Sawicki shot back, his posture turning defensive. “And if you think you’re gonna convince me otherwise, you have another thing coming.”

Tommy paused and pressed his lips together. “Okay.” He sucked on his teeth and nodded. “Understood. You have met him then.”

Jack snapped his head up and furrowed his brows at Tommy, who only shrugged in response.

“You’re that dumb kid who asked me where to find Ross.” Sawicki shook his head, staring daggers at Jack. “I’ve lost everything because of you. You’ve ruined my life. Do you know that?”

Jack widened his eyes at him, feeling the hot flush of anger beginning to rise up inside of him. What the hell was he on about? Was he really trying to insinuate that it was his fault he’d gotten fired?

“Hey, let’s not get it twisted, pal,” Tommy said, raising a palm. “You lost everything because of Fordham. He’s the piece of shit who went and canned you. Not little Jackie here.” His hand fell down on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack fought the instinct to shove it away.

“He wouldn’t have had a reason to fire me if not for him,” he countered, pointing harshly at Jack.

Jack clenched his jaw and glared at him.

Sawicki paused and studied him for a moment before quietly asking, venom dripping from his voice, “You really have no remorse, do you?”

No, Jack answered in his head. Why should I? Outwardly, he stayed silent.

Tommy opened his mouth to intervene, but before he could get a word in, Sawicki continued, “The bank’s gonna take away my house if I can’t find another job soon. And who’s gonna be willing to hire me now?” His voice cracked, and the anger in it turned to desperation. “What am I supposed to do? I have a family. What am I gonna tell them when we get thrown out on the street?”

Jack blinked at him, the anger boiling beneath his skin beginning to turn to something else. A weight settled in his chest, and that all-too-familiar feeling of guilt crept in.

The feeling made him freeze, and he tried to push it away, desperately clinging onto the anger he was more comfortable with. Why did he feel guilty? The guy was a bureau agent. The worst thing a person could be. The absolute scum of the earth.

But then again, he wasn’t, was he? Not anymore. The man sitting across from him right now wasn’t a bureau agent. He was just another sorry piece of shit wasting away in the bar, just like Jack had been not that long ago.

Did that really change anything though? His first instinct was to say that it didn’t. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a bureau agent anymore. He had still been one before, and he had still had a hand in all the destruction they’d caused.

Then, he realized that was the exact argument that had been made about his father in the past. The exact argument he’d fought against for years. The hypocrisy of that wasn’t lost on him.

His thoughts were interrupted when Tommy spoke again, “Listen, we feel for you— for all that you’re going through. We really do.” He put a hand over his heart. “But I’m gonna have to reaffirm that you’re blaming the wrong person here.”

Sawicki shook his head. “I—”

“And even if it were his fault,” Tommy continued, not allowing him to argue, “don’t you think that would kind of make you even now?”

Scoffing, Sawicki stammered, “Even? What on earth are you—”

”Well, you went and told Fordham that he talked to you about that Ross guy. Now, that guy has turned up dead, and they’ve decided that he had something to do with it.”

Sawicki frowned and stole a glance at Jack. “Did he not?”

“No,” Tommy answered without hesitation. “No, he absolutely did not. But they’re treating him like he did. They’re trying to pin that whole mess on him— all because of what you told them.” He sighed. “And that’s not fair. He’s a good kid; he doesn’t deserve that.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. A good kid? There was no way he actually meant that part, right?

Sawicki protested, ”It’s not only because of—”

Tommy didn’t let him finish. “Fordham’s trying to ruin his life, just like he ruined yours. And once he’s done it, everyone’s gonna celebrate and pat him on the back and give him another medal to hang on his wall and jerk off to.” He punctuated his sentence with a lewd hand gesture.

Jack shrank in his seat. Jesus Christ…. What was that about Tommy being proper?

Tommy paused, letting the words hang in the air before asking, “And what are you gonna get, huh?” He leaned over the table. “Nothing. Less than nothing, from the looks of it.”

That made Sawicki falter a bit, and he frowned down at the table, seeming to ponder it.

“Now, like I said,” Tommy continued, “we hate to hear that you’re struggling so much right now. It’s not fair what Fordham did to you either.” He smiled and clasped his hands together, setting them down on the table. “And, y’know, I have more money than I know what to do with. I would love to help you in any way that I can.”

Sawicki paused and looked up at him, that desperate expression returning to his face. Skeptically, he asked, “You would?”

“Absolutely,” Tommy said. “But if I’m gonna help you, I need you to help me— to help us.” He placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder again, and this time, Jack did shrug it off.

The guilt from earlier gnawed harder at his chest, and a pit began to form in his stomach, the kind of pit that formed when you knew you were doing something wrong. The desperation in Sawicki’s eyes made him feel sick. It didn’t feel right taking advantage of it.

Once again, he tried to shove the feeling away. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling it. Not for a bureau agent. Sure, the guy wasn’t an agent anymore, but it wasn’t his choice to leave. They fired him. If it were up to him, he’d still be one of them. So he didn’t deserve any sympathy. And he didn’t deserve Jack’s guilt.

Did he?

His brain said no, but that sinking, sick feeling in his stomach argued otherwise. His father had always said that he was too soft, and clearly, he was right. His temple throbbed as his thoughts kept quarreling in his head until finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t be a part of this. He needed to get away from there, away from his incessant thoughts.

Abruptly, he jumped up out of his seat.

“Hey,” Tommy said. “Where are you going?”

The words fell on deaf ears as Jack sped away from the table, heading for the side door that led out of the saloon.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” There was a harsh scrape of a chair against the floor as Tommy stood up, followed by a murmured, “Would you excuse me for a minute?”

When he reached the door, Jack slipped outside, paying no mind to the footsteps rapidly following behind him. The cold autumn air enveloped him, and he took a deep breath of it, hoping that would shut his mind up. It didn't, of course. It never did.

He continued walking several paces away from the building until he ended up standing in the grass. And as expected, Tommy came out chasing after him.

“What the hell is your problem?” he asked, stopping right behind him.

Keeping his back turned, Jack replied, “I-I don’t wanna do this.”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna talk to him anymore.” He turned around. “And I don’t want you… manipulating him into doing anything or bribing him or—”

“Why?” Tommy asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“I don’t know.” He broke eye contact and shifted on his feet. “It just… feels wrong.”

Tommy paused, blinking at him for a moment before letting out a derisive laugh. “It’s wrong?” he asked. “Oh, my God. That’s fucking hilarious. Are you serious?”

Jack glared at him, a stinging heat creeping into his cheeks.

“Wow, you really are, aren’t you?” The amusement disappeared from his face, turning into astonishment. “Do you hear yourself? What right do you have to act all morally superior?” He glanced around and leaned closer before continuing in a lower voice, “Need I remind you, you killed someone.”

“That’s different,” Jack protested. “He—”

“I agree. It’s very different. Killing someone is much worse.” He gave a condescending smile. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Jack scoffed. “We’re not—”

“Look,” Tommy interrupted, putting a hand up between them, “I’m not gonna have this argument with you; it’s ridiculous. This is what I’m doing; you’re not going to ruin it for me. If you have a problem with it, you and your bleeding little heart”— he jabbed a finger at Jack’s chest— “can leave.”

Jack’s jaw clenched. “Fine,” he said, taking a step backwards. He didn’t have to be told twice; he hadn’t even wanted to come anyway. “I’m going home.”

“Good. Go ahead.” Tommy waved his hand in a shooing motion and turned to head back into the bar, not waiting for Jack to respond. “Don’t know why I bother with you,” he muttered as he walked away.

Jack lingered, glaring at the back of his head until he disappeared back inside the bar. Once the door shut behind him, he sighed, his breath forming a cloud in the cool air. Was he being ridiculous? Maybe. Or probably. He couldn’t decide.

He wasn’t about to go back in there and admit that to Tommy though. Dragging his feet, he walked around to the front of the bar, freezing when he rounded the corner and didn’t see his horse there. All that was waiting for him was that shiny black car parked in the street.

Shit. Tommy drove him there.

Groaning, he shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking. As satisfying as it would be to be able to take the car and leave Tommy behind with nothing, he didn’t know how to drive it. Or even start it. And that’s not to mention the pair of lawmen still standing guard outside. They’d definitely take issue with the infamous ‘Marston boy’ sniffing around a fancy car.

So he headed down the street to catch a coach, making a mental note to never let Tommy drive him around again.

———

The stagecoach dropped Jack off at the entrance to the ranch, leaving him to walk the rest of the way to the house. Still ticked off, he stomped his way through the long stalks of grass, wrapping his arms around himself to fend off the cold. Despite not being that late, it was already almost dark, and the sliver of sunlight that remained bathed the ranch in a blue tint.

As he got closer to the house, the golden glow of a lantern sitting on the table in the gazebo caught his attention. Standing beside it was the familiar silhouette of Lilly, her back turned to him as she looked in the direction of the birdhouse he’d set up earlier.

His heart stirred in his chest, and his lingering irritation was swept out of his mind. He hoped she liked it. Admittedly, a little part of him was disappointed; he had wanted to be there to show it to her himself. Shifting course, he sped up to get to her, eager to find out what she thought of it.

As he got close, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyebrows rising when she spotted him. Jack froze in place when she turned around to face him and the light from the lantern illuminated her face. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her cheeks were flushed and damp with tears. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes, putting a smile on her face. “Hey! Where’ve you been?”

“Um—” Not taking his eyes off of her face, he came closer to her and answered distractedly, “Me and Tommy had to go to Blackwater for something.”

“Oh. Where’s he?”

“I ditched him,” he said, shrugging a single shoulder. “He was annoying me.”

She gave a small laugh, the sound coming out watery. “Yeah. That’s Tommy.”

Jack responded with a nod, too preoccupied with worrying about the tears on her face to come up with anything to say. Seeming to notice his unease, she smiled bigger, presumably to assure him that everything was okay. He wasn’t convinced though. When she noticed that he wasn’t, her smile fell again, but it didn’t disappear completely.

Sighing, she broke eye contact with him and turned back around, returning her attention to the birdhouse.

He walked over to her side and rested his hands on the gazebo’s railing, going back and forth between looking at the birdhouse and watching her out of the corner of his eye. He waited for her to say something about it, but she stayed quiet, save for the occasional sniffle.

Beginning to fidget, he cautiously asked, “Are you okay?”

Keeping her eyes on the birdhouse and her lips pressed tightly together, she answered with a short, high-pitched, “Mhm.”

The shortness of that response increased his anxiety. It wasn’t like her. “Are you sure?” he stammered.

She was quiet for a moment, leaving his question hanging in the air, unanswered. Then, she took in a shaky breath and nodded in the direction of the birdhouse. “Did you put that there?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah…” he said. “I— I made it for you.”

She only gave another high-pitched hum in response, her lips beginning to shake. She sucked them in, and he saw the glint of tears welling up in her eyes.

Jack’s heart sank. Maybe building her that birdhouse hadn’t been a good idea. Maybe all he’d done was bring back painful memories for her. He kicked himself for how stupid he was; he should’ve known better. He thought it would make her happy, not make her cry. He’d never wanted to make her cry.

“I’m sorry,” he spluttered. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I— I thought you’d—”

“I’m not upset,” she said. “I’m just— Nobody’s ever done anything so—” She choked, the tears in her eyes falling to her cheeks. Wiping them away, she sniffled and composed herself just enough to continue, “So thoughtful for me.”

Oh, thank God. Jack let out a breath. He hadn’t messed up.

Turning to face him, Lilly whispered, “Thank you.” Her brows furrowed. “When did you— Why did you—” Her voice caught again as more tears spilled down her cheeks.

Inferring the rest of her question, Jack answered, “I just… wanted to make you happy.”

A tiny sob escaped her lips, and she staggered forward, closing the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she repeated, her voice muffled. “You— You really didn't have to—”

“I know,” he murmured, hugging her back and resting his cheek on her hair. “I wanted to.”

She sniffled and tightened her arms around him.

Jack didn’t understand why she was so surprised he would do this for her. After all she’d done for him, after all the time she’d spent standing by his side through everything…. It was the least he could do.

And he wished he could do more; she deserved so much more. Hell, he could buy her the entire universe, and it still wouldn’t feel like enough. It still wouldn’t show her how grateful he was for her. It still wouldn’t show her how much he loved her.

Tell her, a voice in the back of his head demanded. Tell her now. He couldn’t keep making excuses. There wasn’t going to be a better time.

“Lilly?” he uttered into her hair, his heart racing faster than it ever had before.

She hummed.

Gathering all the courage he could muster, he pulled away just enough to look at her. “I— Um—”

She looked back at him inquisitively, the remnants of her tears staining her cheeks. Staring into her eyes— those beautiful eyes— all of his courage evaporated in an instant. The words caught in his throat, and his mouth went slack. He wasn’t going to let that stop him this time though. He couldn’t.

Clearing his throat, he sucked in a quick breath and tried again, “I—”

Once again, the words refused to come out; his mouth physically wouldn’t let them out, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how much he wanted— how much he needed— to say them. Growing frustrated, he snapped his lips shut and closed his eyes.

He could think the words; he could write them; he could feel them with all his heart. But the second he tried to say them? Nothing. Why did his mouth have to be so useless? Why did he have to be so useless?

Lilly’s hands floated down to his arms, and she squeezed them, cutting off his rumination. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him intensely; her expression told him that she already knew what he was trying to say. Her grip on his arms tightened, and her eyes pleaded with him to just spit it out.

Unfortunately, none of that was making it any easier to get the words to come out.

Her gaze flitted down to his mouth, and she licked her lips. Jack’s heart skipped a beat when she brought her face a little closer to his before pausing to look him in the eyes again.

Then, it occurred to him: maybe he didn’t have to say anything. Without giving himself a chance to think twice, he leaned forward and clumsily pressed his lips against hers.

She kissed him back without hesitation, planting a hand on the back of his neck to guide him into a less awkward position. Her other hand rested on his chest, gripping his shirt as she deepened the kiss.

His heart soared, and his knees went weak; if she wasn’t holding onto him, he surely would’ve just melted into a pile on the ground. Despite the cold air surrounding them, his whole body felt like it was on fire. Why hadn’t he done this sooner? Looking back, there were so many opportunities where he could have— where he should have. If he had known what he was missing, he never would have held himself back.

He pulled her closer and kissed her harder, trying to make up for all of those times he should’ve done it in the past. She whimpered against his lips and responded in kind, her fist tightening around his shirt.

When they finally separated, he rested his forehead against hers, panting as his head spun from the adrenaline coursing through him.

“God,” Lilly gasped, her breath hot against his face. Her eyes fluttered open, and she grinned at him. “I’ve been wanting to do that forever.”

He smiled back at her and then drew his brows together. Catching his breath, he asked, “Why didn’t you?” That sure would’ve made things a lot easier for him.

Her expression turned sheepish. “Well… I was waiting for you to.”

“Why?” he asked, breathing out an incredulous laugh. “Why would you wait for me to do anything? I— I’m a mess.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And I’m not?”

He paused. How was he supposed to answer that? “Um… No…?”

She laughed and shook her head before pulling him in for another kiss, smiling against his lips. It made his head spin all over again.

He let out a shy chuckle as she pulled back and joked, “I guess that was the right answer then?”

She snickered. “It was. You’ve been trained so well.”

Jack cracked up at that, making Lilly crack up as well. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, laughing into his chest.

When she calmed down, she sighed and squeezed him. “Thank you, again. For the birdhouse.” She looked up at him. “I love it.”

“I love you,” he blurted out, and he immediately cringed when he realized how awkwardly that had come out. He couldn’t get himself to say it five minutes ago, when it would’ve been appropriate, but now that it was weird and abrupt? He had no problem just spitting it out.

Lilly didn’t appear to find it awkward, at least. Her face contorted with emotion when the words left his lips, and tears began to brim her eyes again. Blinking them away, she reached up to comb her fingers through his hair and then trailed her hand down to his cheek.

“I love you too.”

She loved him. Hearing those words nearly made his heart burst, and they kept replaying in his head. He didn’t think he’d ever hear them as long as he lived— from anyone, much less from someone as amazing as Lilly.

And he didn’t just hear them. He felt them.

#jack marston #adult jack marston #rdr1 #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #my writing #//my blessed son

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reddorkredemption · 4 months ago

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He was talking ‘fore I knew it and as he grew he’d say, ‘I’m gonna to be like you dad. Y’know, I’m gonna be like you.

#john marston #jack marston #adult jack marston

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reddorkredemption · 4 months ago

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junior my beloved

haven’t drawn in a bit because of Life stuff i know some things is wonky

#<3 #jack marston #adult jack marston

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reddorkredemption · 5 months ago

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little jackie marston

#jack marston #adult jack marston

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reddorkredemption · 5 months ago

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Jack art dump im curling my toes

#jack marston #adult jack marston

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reddorkredemption · 5 months ago

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My Blessed Son—Chapter 23

|| AO3 || Chapter List / Story Info ||

Summary:

Word count: ~11k

Chapter under the cut <3

11:48.

11:49.

11:50.

Jack chewed on his lip as he watched the clock on his desk tick away, showing no signs of slowing down as it inched closer and closer to two o’ clock. His stomach churned as he realized that in a couple of short hours, he’d be sitting across from Archer Fordham.

Lilly had returned from her trip to town with Tommy late last night. She informed him that they were able to convince her friend at the hotel to help them out, no questions asked as long as she was paid well for her time.

Jack was admittedly somewhat disappointed to hear that. A part of him had hoped that they wouldn’t be successful— that they wouldn’t be able to find anyone to help and then the meeting would have to be canceled. Of course, he couldn’t be that lucky.

He hadn’t gotten any sleep after that; his head was reeling with too many thoughts and anxieties about everything that lay ahead. About the fast-approaching meeting with Fordham. About what Charles had said about leaving things unsaid with Lilly. It was all too overwhelming.

When the sun rose that morning, he pulled himself out of bed, realizing that continuing to try to sleep was pointless. To keep himself busy— and in an attempt to quell his racing thoughts— he returned to his desk to continue his efforts from the day before.

He had spent the morning trying to get in touch with Leigh Johnson, which was unfortunately proving more difficult than he’d expected. Apparently, he didn’t own a telephone, so there was no easy way to reach him.

Jack wasn’t fond of the thought of having to make a trip up to Strawberry to find him. He hated it there. That area never brought back good memories. So before he resorted to that, he decided to try calling around to various shops in the town and see if one of them could get him on the phone.

He spent a few hours doing this until eventually, he was able to get ahold of someone who was familiar with Marshal Johnson— a man working at the post office who’d seen him around town and chatted with him nearly every day. He promised Jack that he would try to have the marshal call him back on the office’s phone whenever he came to pick up his mail. That was over an hour ago now, and he was still waiting to hear back.

Drumming his fingers on his desk, he glanced at the clock again.

11:56.

Why did time have to pass by so fast?

As if on cue, the telephone on his desk rang, startling him out of his thoughts. A jolt of energy rushed through his body, and he snatched up the telephone to answer it.

“Hello?” he said, almost shouting in his excitement.

“Hi, this is Hector from Strawberry. Is this… uh…” His voice got quieter, as if he’d pulled back to speak to someone else. “Ah, hell, I forgot his damned name.”

Jack thought he heard someone groan and then there was a scuffle, sending loud popping noises through the telephone. Finally, a different voice asked with an edge of suspicion, “Who is this?”

Immediately on the defensive, Jack echoed back with a similar harshness, “Who is this?”

“I recall askin’ you first.”

His instinct was to argue back, but he tempered himself. If this was the marshal, he couldn’t afford to mess things up. With a breath, he calmly explained, “My name is Jack Marston. I—”

“Marston?” The recognition in his voice filled Jack with hope.

“Yes,” he said. “Are you Leigh Johnson? I think you knew my father, John Marston.”

“I am. And I did,” the marshal replied, his tone calmer. “I heard about what happened to him. After all that….” He sighed. “Ain’t right.”

Shoving down any emotion that statement brought forward, Jack got straight to the point: “Right. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It is?” He sounded somewhat wary.

“Yes. A friend of mine— no, an acquaintance—” Stop calling Tommy your friend, he chastised himself. He is not your friend. “An acquaintance of mine told me that them bureau agents weren’t even allowed to do a bunch of those things they did. It weren’t lawful.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and through the silence, the sound of a car engine approaching outside reached his ears. It made his stomach jolt a bit; he had been dreading that sound.

“Well…” the marshal began, regaining his attention. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “There is a reason we were all threatened not to talk about it.”

“So it’s true?” Jack asked, a slight shake creeping into his voice as the car grew closer.

Marshal Johnson sighed. “Where is this going?”

Jack hesitated, his breath hitching as he heard the car enter the ranch. Shaking off his rising anxiety, he answered, “Long story short, my… acquaintance told me I need some kinda proof of what they did. Otherwise, I can’t do nothin’ about it. Someone told me you might be able to help me with that. You kept some kinda record.”

“Who told you that?”

He impatiently bounced his leg. “Someone in Armadillo. Does it matter?”

“Yeah. A little bit.”

“All I need,” Jack said, ignoring his response, “is for you to let me borrow whatever you have. That’s it.”

The marshal grunted. “I don’t—”

“Please,” Jack said, resorting to begging as he didn’t know what else to do. “I don't want them to get away with what they did. I swear I’ll never tell no one you helped me— if that’s the problem.”

The marshal took a long pause once again, and Jack noticed the sound of the car had stopped. Footsteps made their way up the porch, and then, the front door opened and slammed shut again. A figure strolled into his bedroom doorway.

He didn’t bother looking up to see who it was— he already knew it was Tommy. He stayed focused on the telephone, waiting for Marshal Johnson to speak and praying that he’d agree to send him what he needed.

Tommy rapped on the door frame. “Uh, hello?”

Annoyed, Jack glanced over at him, noting what looked like a folded-up suit draped over his forearm. He pointed at the telephone and then held up a finger to tell him to wait a moment.

Tommy snorted at the gesture and leaned against the door frame. “Okay then.”

Several more agonizing seconds went by, the ticking of that infernal clock mocking him through the silence. Jack started to worry he’d been hung up on, but that fear was dashed when the marshal let out an acquiescent sigh.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” he said. “I never did like those bastards.”

Jack sat straight up, nearly tipping his chair backwards. “Wait, really?”

“So long as you really don’t tell anyone about it.”

“I won’t. I— I swear.”

“Where do you want it sent then?”

Jack told him to send whatever he had straight to Beecher’s Hope— even things that he didn’t think would be useful. Everything could help. He thanked the marshal profusely and once again swore never to tell a soul about it.

As he hung up the telephone, he bounced up and down in his seat, silently thanking whatever powers that be for how well that went.

From the doorway, Tommy asked, “What was that about?”

Jack startled and turned to him; he’d almost forgotten he was there. Composing himself, he answered, “I was talking to someone who knew my father.”

“For what?”

“To get proof of what the bureau did to him,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Oh,” Tommy uttered, “you’re actually doing that?”

Jack’s brows drew together. “...You told me to.”

“What? No, I—” He cut himself off and looked up at the ceiling, huffing. “Okay, I did say that, but I said it flippantly. I didn’t think you took me seriously.”

Jack frowned, a hint of irritation cutting into his excitement. He should’ve known that Tommy wouldn’t actually encourage him to seek out the proof he needed; he didn’t believe Jack’s stories at all. But it didn’t matter what he thought. Jack’s efforts were already proving very useful. He was getting what he needed, and soon enough, he would make Tommy eat his words. He wasn’t going to let his doubts discourage him.

“Well, I did,” Jack responded matter-of-factly. “And I’m doing it, and it’s going good so far.”

“Really?” Tommy asked, raising a skeptical brow.

“Yes, it is,” he affirmed, raising his chin. “I have a bunch of things coming. They’re gonna prove it. You’ll see.”

Tommy snickered at his confidence. “Alright…” he said. “Well, keep me posted, I guess.”

“I will,” Jack said, not letting his confidence waver.

Tommy held his gaze for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Anyway,” he said, “we need to get you ready; we’ve gotta leave soon. I got here later than I wanted to.” He sighed, put his free hand on his hip, and studied Jack for a few seconds. “You look a little less greasy than usual, so I’m assuming you actually did bathe like I asked.” He smiled. “I appreciate that.”

Jack pursed his lips, unamused.

Tommy held up the stack of clothes he was holding. “Here.” He tossed them at Jack, who lurched forward to catch them. “Put those on and then come meet me outside, okay?”

“Okay…” he replied.

Tommy left the room, and Jack stood up from his desk, keeping his arms wrapped around the now crumpled-up pile of clothes he was given. He placed them on top of his bed, spreading out the individual pieces of the outfit: a gray suit jacket, vest, and pants and a silky, burgundy necktie. It looked a lot like what Tommy was always wearing.

He picked up the jacket and shook the wrinkles out of it, catching a whiff of some spicy fragrance that was embedded in the fabric. As he examined it more closely, he realized that it didn’t just look like one of Tommy’s suits— it was one of his suits. It was practically identical to the one he’d seen him wearing a moment ago. Jack was shocked he’d been willing to lend it to him.

He tossed the jacket back onto his bed and stripped out of the clothes he had on, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

Since Tommy hadn’t given him a shirt, he picked out the nicest white shirt he could find in his dresser and slipped it on. He put on the tie next, fumbling with it as he tied it around his neck— he couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn one. He doubted he got it on correctly, but he didn’t think it mattered. It would be hidden underneath the rest of his clothing; no one would notice.

Finally, he topped it all off with the vest, pants, and jacket. The jacket smelled even more strongly of perfume once on, and it fit too tightly around his shoulders, restricting the movement of his arms. He squirmed and tugged at it, but the movement only increased his discomfort. He hated the way the coat’s silk lining scratched against the fabric of his shirt; it sent a shiver up his spine.

Giving up on trying to make himself more comfortable, he walked stiffly to the mirror to take a look at himself. The getup didn’t look as awful as it felt, but as he gazed at himself in the mirror, he felt awkward and out of place. He wasn’t made to wear such fancy, expensive clothing, and boy, did it show.

He didn't understand why he needed to dress up for this meeting anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to fool Fordham into thinking he was a respectable member of society by dressing like one.

Growing sick of looking at himself, Jack left the mirror and grabbed his father’s old, beat-up hat. He knew that it would clash horribly with the rest of his attire, but he put it on anyway. With a final anxious glance at the clock— 12:28 — he headed outside.

He looked around as he stepped out onto the porch. He didn’t see Tommy, but he did spot Lilly once again standing in the gazebo, looking out at the ranch. His lips involuntarily curved into a small smile when his eyes landed on her, but as he watched her, he felt a pang of sadness. He remembered what she’d said about her father— how he’d always loved the birds. Unfortunately, there didn’t appear to be any hanging around the gazebo for her to watch that day. Jack wished he could get them to come around more often.

He perked up as an idea came to him. She’d also told him that her father had had a little birdhouse when she was growing up— a little red one with a black roof. Maybe he could build her one just like it for the ranch. Birdhouses were pretty simple to build; he’d made significantly more difficult things in the past. And she’d done so much for him. He wanted to repay her for it.

He made up his mind. The moment he had the time, he was going to do it. Maybe after this meeting with Fordham, assuming he could scrounge up the cash for supplies. And assuming said meeting doesn’t go horribly wrong….

That thought hit him with a wave of dread, and the feeling increased as he realized how close he was to having to face Fordham. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cool autumn air, his chest growing heavy. When he opened them again, he refocused on Lilly. His feet propelled him forward, eager to get to her.

She didn’t notice him as he approached, seemingly too lost in her thoughts. “Hey,” he said, his anxiety making his voice crack.

She turned around, and her eyes were immediately drawn down to his new outfit. A little laugh escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

Jack sheepishly looked down at his clothes. “It’s that bad, huh?”

She met his eyes, the amusement falling from her face. “No!” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. You just look so different from yourself.”

He nodded stiffly, breathing out an awkward chuckle. “I’m aware.”

Her expression softened, and she looked him over again. “You look nice though. Very handsome— not that that’s anything unusual.”

Jack snorted, turning his head to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks.

She giggled, her face pinkening as well. “I mean it.”

Jack snorted again, not knowing what to say. He looked around, nervously fidgeting with his hands and searching for something else to focus on. “Uh, where’s your brother?” he asked. “He told me to meet him out here.”

“Last time I checked, he was sitting on the porch.” She stood on her toes to look at the house and then pointed towards the right side of it. “Around the side of the house. You can kinda see him.”

He followed her finger, squinting until he was able to spot the toe of Tommy’s shoe, along with a barely-visible cloud of cigarette smoke.

“If not,” Lilly continued with a chuckle, “you can just go over there and follow the smell of the smoke.”

“No, I see him.” He balled up his fists and took a deep breath, blowing it out in a sigh. “Guess I should go over there…” he murmured, his hesitancy clear in his voice.

When he made no effort to move, Lilly stepped closer to him and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll come with you.”

He uncurled his fists and responded with a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

With Lilly trailing closely behind, Jack hopped out of the gazebo and headed back to the porch, dragging his feet all the way. As they approached, the strong smell of cigarette smoke filled his nose, mixing with the fragrance that emanated off of his fancy new coat.

Tommy looked up as the pair rounded the corner, his eyebrows raising when he spotted Jack. “Wow,” he said, “you actually look kinda okay for once.”

“Wow, thanks,” Jack replied flatly.

He laughed. “You’re welcome!”

Slapping his free hand down on his knee, Tommy stood up, took a final puff of his cigarette, and tossed it into the bushes. He put his hands on his hips and stared at Jack, his eyes slowly scanning him from head to toe. This went on for a lot longer than Jack was comfortable with, and he started to squirm.

Finally, Tommy beckoned him closer with a single finger. “Come here.”

Jack stiffened. “Why?”

“Just come here,” he said with an impatient sigh. “I’m not gonna bite you.”

After a brief hesitation and a glance back at Lilly, Jack took a tiny step towards him.

Rolling his eyes, Tommy closed the distance between them and grabbed the lapels of Jack’s coat to tug him closer. Jack flinched away and pulled out of his grasp, smacking his hands away when he tried to get close again.

“Quit flinching,” Tommy demanded. “I’m trying to fix you.”

“I don’t need to be fixed!” Jack spat back. “Don’t touch me.”

Huffing, Tommy stepped back. “That tie is fucked up,” he said, pointing at Jack’s chest. “Fix it.”

Jack frowned down at his sloppily-tied tie. So much for no one noticing….

Lilly cut in, “It’s not a big deal, Tommy. I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“It’s—”

“Get over it.” Her voice came out harsher.

Tommy opened his mouth to argue again but seemed to think better of it. “Fine,” he huffed. “You wanna look like a fool— or more of a fool than usual— you do that.”

“Okay, I will,” Jack mumbled.

Tommy rolled his eyes, and with that, the three moved on to going over their plan a final time. Said plan was a lot more bare-bones than Jack would’ve preferred. They were going to drive to Blackwater and go into the police department to meet with Fordham. Tommy would talk to him while Jack kept his mouth shut unless told otherwise. Lilly’s friend would get Fordham out of the room so Tommy could snoop around. And then… who knows?

All Jack knew was that he dreaded all of it. When the clock hit the hour of 1:15, and they all piled into Tommy’s car to make their way to town, he felt like he was going to throw up.

———

The closer they got to Blackwater, the sweatier Jack’s palms became.

As they rolled into town, the car received curious glances from the ever-nosy townspeople in Blackwater. Jack slouched in his seat and stared down at his feet to avoid their gazes.

Tommy came to a stop along the side-street across from the police department, coincidentally— or maybe not, knowing Tommy— right beside the old gallows. It did look somewhat unassuming that day though; the platform was stacked with wooden crates, as it had been a while since it was used. Jack closed his eyes and swallowed a lump in his throat. Hopefully it would stay that way.

Jack was the last one out of the car, and his knees almost buckled the second his feet hit the pavement. Lilly and Tommy moved to stand on the corner of the sidewalk, and Jack managed to drag himself over to join them.

Putting his hands on his hips, Tommy scanned the surrounding area. “Where is…”

“There she is!”

Lilly pointed to a woman standing by a lamppost across the street. She was dressed in the typical get-up that all of the working girls in Blackwater wore. Jack had never seen her before— not that he could remember anyway. There were plenty of nights at the saloon that he had almost no memory of; hopefully this girl wasn’t one of the ones he’d yelled at back then….

The woman noticed them looking and gave them a little wave.

Tommy nodded at her in response and then turned to Lilly. “Alright, you head over there with her,” he told her. “Have her come in ten minutes or so after we go inside. And don’t be late. I know how you are.”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “I won’t.”

He dug in his pocket, pulled out a small stack of cash, and handed it to her. “That’s half of her payment for you to give her. Tell her I’ll give her the other half after.” He pointed at the long alleyway that snaked behind the shops. “See that back alley? We’re all gonna meet up there afterward.”

“You got it,” Lilly said, taking the cash and stuffing it into her pocket.

With a satisfied nod, he turned his attention to Jack. “Now you,” he said, pointing at his head, “take that hat off. You’re not going in there with that thing on.”

Jack reached up and fiddled with the brim of his hat but hesitated to take it off. “Why didn’t you tell me that before we left?” he asked, ticked off. “Where am I supposed to put it?”

“Just toss it in the car.”

Jack glanced at the car, noting how wide-open it was, and frowned. “I don’t wanna leave it in there; someone could just reach in and take it.”

Tommy gave a derisive laugh. “No one’s gonna take it. Believe me. No one wants that hat.”

Jack’s frown deepened at his tone.

Lilly interjected, “I can hold onto it for you.”

“Okay…. I guess that’s fine.”

He took the hat off and ran his fingers through his hair before extending it out to her, his hands shaking slightly. She took it from him and put it straight on her own head, flashing him a goofy grin. Despite his anxiety, Jack couldn’t help but crack a laugh at that. Her grin widened, and she laughed along with him.

When their amusement died down, he looked down at the ground.

“Hey,” she said softly, making him look back up at her. She reached forward and took both of his hands in hers, gently squeezing them. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Giving a slight nod, he murmured, “I hope so.”

She squeezed his hands tighter. “I know so.”

Tommy interrupted them with an impatient clear of his throat. “Is this really necessary? You’re going to a meeting, not off to war.”

Lilly turned her head to frown at him but didn’t otherwise acknowledge his interruption. She squeezed Jack again. “I’ll see you really soon, okay?”

He took a deep breath. “Okay.”

With a final reassuring smile, she let go of his hands, and he immediately wished she hadn’t. They continued to shake as he let his arms fall back to his sides, and he balled up his fists in an attempt to still them.

“Great, you’re finished,” Tommy said, startling Jack as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Now let’s go. Lilly, go do your thing, please.”

Lilly snorted and mumbled, “As you wish, your highness.”

With that, she patted Jack on the shoulder and left, crossing the street to meet up with her friend.

“Alright, now or never, Jackie.” Tommy clapped him hard on the back, making him stumble forward a bit. “Let’s go.”

‘Since when was ‘never’ an option?’ he thought as they started towards the police station, Jack trailing behind Tommy as he dragged his feet. If never was an option, he would’ve picked it in a heartbeat. ‘Never’ wouldn’t make him feel like he’s going to spew his insides all over the sidewalk. ‘Never’ wouldn’t risk getting him immediately thrown in jail.

Tommy stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led into the building, waiting for him to catch up.

“Are you good?” he asked once Jack finally reached him. A smirk crept onto his face, and he held out his hand. “You need me to hold your hand while we walk in?”

Jack scowled at him and slapped his hand away. “No.”

“Alright, let’s get this over with then.” He nodded at the door and then climbed the first stair leading up to it. Before going any further, he looked over his shoulder, giving Jack’s appearance a final once-over. “Stand up straight,” he said.

Jack did so, squirming in discomfort as the fabric of his too-small suit became even more taut against his skin.

As he straightened up, Tommy did a double-take and turned to face him. “Wait,” he said, looking him up and down with an almost offended look on his face. “You’re not taller than me, are you?”

Jack stared back at him in disbelief. “Is that really what you’re worried about right now?”

The look of offense remaining etched onto his face, Tommy responded by getting a bit closer and standing up as straight as he could until his heels began to come off the ground.

After a moment, he huffed and plopped his heels back down. “I changed my mind. You can keep slouching.”

With that, he opened the door and slipped inside, holding it open for Jack. Jack took a deep breath— fearing it might be the last breath of fresh air he’d ever take— and followed him in.

The air inside felt heavy, and Jack’s breathing turned shallow, rapidly making him lightheaded. As Tommy informed the man at the front desk of their meeting with Fordham, he stared blankly at the wall, unable to hear much over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

The man behind the desk led them up the stairs and down a hallway until they stopped at a door with a shiny plaque that read, Archer Fordham. Jack held his breath as the man knocked on the door, and his stomach lurched when he heard someone inside shuffling towards it.

The door opened, revealing a somewhat tired-looking Archer Fordham, a marked contrast from the man who’d accosted him on the street a while ago. His eyes landed on Jack first, where they lingered for a brief moment before darting over to the man who’d escorted them upstairs. He gave him a single nod, which the man took as his cue to leave.

“You’re Archer Fordham, I presume,” Tommy said.

“That’s right.” He nodded and extended a hand out to him. “And you are?”

Tommy grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Thomas Schuyler. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, of course.”

Fordham didn’t seem to notice his sarcasm— or if he did, he didn’t care. He shifted focus to Jack. “Marston,” he greeted, extending his hand out to him as well, albeit much more stiffly.

Jack stared at the hand, offended that he’d had the nerve to offer it and having no intention of accepting it. Tommy noticed his hesitation and nudged him, giving him a warning glare. Biting his tongue, he begrudgingly shook Fordham’s hand, his wrist limp and unenthusiastic.

“Glad you finally decided to come talk to me,” he said.

That makes one of us, Jack thought. Outwardly, he said nothing.

Fordham headed to his desk, and the second his back was turned, Jack furiously wiped his hand against his coat. He paused when Tommy clicked his tongue and nudged him again. Jack met his eyes and scowled at him.

“Behave,” he mouthed.

Fordham sat down behind the desk and motioned for Jack and Tommy to come in and sit in two chairs placed neatly in front of him. They did so, shutting the door behind them, leaving Jack feeling like he’d been encased in a tomb.

Fordham didn’t say anything as they settled in. He busied himself with flipping through a file sitting in front of him. Jack assumed it was the file Tommy had mentioned— the one he was after. A quick glance at Tommy confirmed this.

He continued flipping through it for several uncomfortable minutes. As the silence went on, Jack looked around the office, trying to distract himself from the anxious thoughts running wild through his head.

It didn’t help. The walls were covered in awards, certificates, and medals— trophies to commemorate all of the torment that Fordham had had a hand in. How many of those did he win for using his father? For murdering him?

It made him sick. It wasn’t much different from a hunter hanging the head of his kill above his mantle. He wanted nothing more than to get up, rip them all down, and shove them up Fordham’s ass.

His anxiety was beginning to turn to anger.

Fordham looked up from his file and stared pointedly at Tommy. “So, why are you here?”

“Me specifically?” Tommy asked, placing a hand on his chest.

He nodded.

“Well, Jack here told me there’s been some kind of misunderstanding between the two of you. I’m here to help rectify it.” He punctuated his sentence with a smile— possibly the fakest smile Jack had ever seen.

“Don’t know if I would call it a misunderstanding…” Fordham muttered under his breath. “But is that all? It has nothing to do with that girl who’s been running around town with him?” He nodded in Jack’s direction. “You have the same surname as her.”

“Oh, my mistake.” Tommy’s lip twitched, but that plastic, polite smile stayed on his face. “I thought you were asking why I’m here in this office, not why I’m in this city in general. I didn’t realize that was relevant.”

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“She’s my sister.” There was the faintest sign of a crack in his cool demeanor. “And you don’t need to worry about her, alright?”

“Actually, I do,” Fordham countered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “They’ve been looking for her up north. I told them I’d look into it.”

Tommy looked down in thought, rubbing his chin. “Well… you can tell ‘em you found her.” He raised his head. “Just don’t tell our mother just yet. Let me handle that part. It’s a very delicate situation.”

Fordham paused, mulling over his request. He sighed. “I don’t know. We’ll consider it.”

Tommy only nodded in response, and Jack could sense the irritation in his silence.

“Anyway, moving on….” Fordham’s eyes shifted to Jack, making his heart skip. “I, as you know, have been wanting to talk to you about Edgar Ross. He’s— um—”

He faltered over his words as a commotion started to erupt downstairs— directly underneath them by the front entrance. There were several loud voices reverberating throughout the building, the loudest being a woman’s. Jack relaxed a little, thanking his lucky stars for her timing.

Clearing his throat, Tommy commented, “Well, that sounds fun.”

Fordham shook off the interruption and tried to continue, “He’s recently been found in the river on the border. He was—” He paused and pursed his lips as the shouting got louder, now seeming to be coming up the stairs.

“Miss! Miss, you can’t be up here!”

Heavy footsteps rushed down the hall, stopping in front of the office. The door was opened forcefully, and the sheriff popped his head in, panting. “Hey, Fordham, we got a problem.”

“I’m in the middle of something.”

“I see that, but this woman is very upset. She’s—”

“You can’t handle a single woman by yourselves?”

“She won’t—”

He was cut off by the woman, Lilly’s friend, shoving past him to get into the office. She scanned the room, quickly narrowing in on Fordham. “You!” she said. “Are you the one in charge around here?”

Fordhan shifted in his seat, sharing an uncomfortable glance with the sheriff. “I am,” he answered, “but I’m sure the sheriff here is more than capable of helping with whatever you’re—”

“No. He isn’t,” she snapped. “If he was, he would’ve done something the other thousand times one of us girls came up here.” She threw her hands up. “Every day. Every day, some john robs one of us or beats us or harasses us. And you’re all content to just let it happen! I am so sick of you all sitting up here in your fancy little offices, with your fancy little suits, doing nothing!”

Fordham stood up, holding up his palms, and tried to get a word in, “I—”

“For once,” she said, her voice quieter yet somehow more menacing, “you are going to hear us.”

The room went quiet as her words hung in the air. Even Jack was taken aback by the passion in her voice. He didn’t expect her to be this convincing of an actress— assuming she was even acting at all…. Maybe there was some truth to her ranting.

“Okay. I hear you,” Fordham said, coming out from behind his desk to get closer to her. “I’ll talk with you if you want, but I’m meeting with someone else right now.” He pointed to where Jack and Tommy were sitting. “You’ll have to wait until we’re finished.”

The woman shook her head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Tommy leaned forward and raised his hand to interject. “Please, go ahead and help the woman,” he said. “We don’t mind waiting.” He turned to Jack. “Do we?”

Jack shook his head.

The woman huffed. “Finally, someone with a little courtesy.”

The sheriff spoke again, reminding them of his presence, “Yeah, I think that’d be best.”

“Fine,” Fordham said, sighing as he was outnumbered. “Give me one second.”

He returned to his desk and picked up the file he had been referencing, quickly shoving it into a drawer. Pulling a key out of his pocket, he locked it inside. Excusing himself, he hurried out of the office, leading the woman into the hallway with him.

When the door shut behind him and the sound of their footsteps got farther away, Jack huffed a breath of relief.

Tommy dropped his polite facade, slapped his hand down on his knee, and whispered, “Damn it!”

Startled, Jack asked, “What?”

He gestured at the drawer Fordham had placed the file into. “The fucker locked it.”

“So? Just pick the lock.”

Tommy scoffed and looked at him like he had three heads. “I don’t know how to pick a lock. I’m not a fuckin’ degenerate.”

Jack rolled his eyes and grumbled, “I’ll do it.”

He stood up and made his way over to the desk, careful to keep his footsteps light. Tommy followed, hovering behind him as he scanned the desk in search of something he could use to pick the lock. He kicked himself for not thinking to bring his satchel with him; he had a proper lock pick in there. His father had taught him to use it after he’d gotten locked out of the house one day, much to his mother’s displeasure.

The closest thing he could find on the desk was a letter opener of a similar shape. He grabbed it, resolving that he’d just have to find a way to make it work. He knelt down to be eye level with the drawer and shoved it into the lock.

After a few minutes of fumbling— and Tommy impatiently tapping his foot— the lock clicked, and he was able to slide the drawer open. He straightened up and was immediately shoved to the side as Tommy grabbed the file sitting inside.

“Go stand by the door and listen out for anyone coming,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Jack grumbled.

“Don’t start.”

Jack set the letter opener back down where he got it and tip-toed to the door. Once there, he gently placed his ear against it.

The room went quiet, Jack honing in on every minute sound coming from the hallway and making sure no one came too close. Meanwhile, Tommy began to silently read through the file.

This went on for a few minutes until Tommy broke the silence by humming. “Wow. He was shot six times— twice right in the face.” He glanced up at Jack. “You kinda overdid it a little bit there, I think.”

Jack ignored him, annoyed with him for running his mouth while he was trying to listen out.

His annoyance must have gone unnoticed because Tommy continued to list off points as he read, “He was pulled out of the river by a fisherman from Mexico. Fisherman didn’t speak English and didn’t seem to know anything.” He flipped a page, and his demeanor instantly changed. “Is that…” He squinted and brought the file closer to his face. “Is that him?”

Jack pulled away from the door this time, his curiosity piqued. “What?”

“They’ve got a photograph of him in here,” he said, grimacing. “Man, people do not look pretty after they’ve been floatin’ in a river for weeks, do they?” He shook his head and then looked up at Jack. Holding up the file, he asked, “Wanna see?”

“No,” Jack answered immediately, his stomach turning at the thought.

Tommy lowered the file and smirked. “Not one for admiring your handiwork, eh?” He sighed and resumed scanning through it. “That’s probably a good thing. I’ve met a few too many people who were way too happy to see things like this. It’s very off-putting.”

Jack mumbled, “I think you bein’ so nonchalant about it is a little off-putting.”

“Nonchalant?” he asked, flipping the page again. “Hm. That’s a big word for someone like you.”

Jack frowned. Why did he even bother saying anything? He turned and rested his head back against the door. “I’m going back to listening.”

“Good plan, Jackie.”

They returned to their separate tasks, Jack focusing in on a conversation he could hear from the other end of the hallway. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it made him anxious nonetheless. What if they came closer? What if they overheard Tommy rooting around?

As if to mock him, Tommy suddenly snapped his fingers, nearly making Jack jump out of his skin. He turned to glare at him, but he was too absorbed in his reading to notice.

“Here we go,” he said. “This part’s about you.” He, still not getting the hint that Jack preferred the silence, listed off more points aloud as he read: “Jack Marston— son of notorious outlaw, John Marston. Has adequate reason to want to harm Ross. Agent Howard Sawicki identified him as the man who asked him where to find Ross.

“Emily and Phillip Ross could not confirm or deny if it was him who spoke to them too. Was notably absent from Blackwater at the time of Ross’s disappearance.” He paused and snickered before reading the last point: “Very disagreeable. Refuses to talk to anyone.”

“Is that all it says?”

“That’s the jist of it. There’s also some boring stuff about them watching you farm. Some about Lilly but nothing we don’t already know.” He scanned over the page again. “Oh, and they fired that one guy for telling you where Ross lives.” He lowered the file and pouted. “How tragic.”

“So, what do you think?”

“Well, I can see why they haven’t just arrested you yet,” he said. “They haven’t got anything of much substance against you.”

Jack perked up. “Really?”

“Yup. Two outta those three people you talked to are pretty much worthless to them,” he answered. “That one bureau agent who recognized you is the problem. Or former agent, rather. Since they canned the poor asshole.” He hummed and rested his hand on his chin. “I wonder if we could find him….”

“Find him for what?”

Tommy waved the question off. “Don’t worry about it; I’m just thinking.”

He returned his attention to the file, quickly flipping through it again. “I think we’ve read enough,” he said, closing it and slapping it back down into the drawer. “Come on, we need to hurry up and sit back down before he gets back.”

Tommy closed the drawer and returned to his seat, leaning back and crossing his legs. Jack left the door and sat back down as well.

“You coincidentally not being seen in town around the time he died doesn’t help either…” Tommy murmured after a beat of silence— Jack wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or to himself. That was, until he tapped his shoulder and asked, “Do you know anyone who’d be willing to say you were with them that day?— someone who isn’t Lilly. They wouldn’t believe a word she says at this point.”

At first, Jack couldn’t think of anyone. There were a few people he was friendly with, but he doubted any of them would be willing to lie to the BOI for him. Besides, he wouldn’t trust them enough to tell them about the situation with Ross anyway.

That reminded him— there was one other person he told about Ross. Bonnie Macfarlane. And he had stayed at her ranch recently. Maybe she’d be willing to tell them he was there a little earlier in the year than he actually was. He couldn’t see any reason she wouldn’t.

“Yeah, I think I know someone,” he said.

“Who?”

“Bonnie Macfarlane. She lives in Hennigan’s Stead; she was a friend of my father’s. And she knows that I… you know….”

“I have no idea where the fuck Hennigan’s Stead is, but good. We’ll tell him you were there that day,” Tommy said. “But after, you’ll probably wanna let her know you told them that.”

“I will.” He dropped his voice and added, “If I ever get out of here.”

Tommy snorted at his pessimism. “You are gonna get outta here.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

The conversation died out, and Jack took to quietly examining the awards hanging on the wall again. He glared at them as if they, personally, had wronged him. He considered whether Fordham would immediately notice them missing if he were to get up and take them down. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize his chances of getting out of there in one piece, but it would heal a part of his soul to toss those stupid things in the trash.

Or better yet, throw them in a fire. Melt the metal down into a pistol and shoot Fordham with it. Wouldn’t that be poetic?

“Y’know, I have to say,” Tommy said, once again interrupting the silence, “I didn’t expect this guy to be such a fuckin’ jackass.”

“I did,” Jack replied flatly.

“Yeah, but you have bad judgment; how was I supposed to know you were right?” He shook his head. “Seriously. Why did he start out questioning me? I didn’t do anything. I’m being polite, but I feel like he’s sittin’ there, lookin’ down on me.”

Jack just shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to Tommy vent. He talked too much— it was grating. Although, it did give him some satisfaction to know he wasn’t the only one in the room who hated Fordham. And the words ‘you were right’ felt especially sweet coming from Tommy, even when they were paired with an insult.

When he realized that Jack wasn’t going to respond, Tommy huffed and slouched back in his seat.

Another moment of silence went by, and this time, it was broken by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. Jack’s heart skipped a beat, and he tensed, hoping the footsteps would go past the door. Unfortunately, they stopped right in front of it.

Tommy sat up straight as the door opened, and Fordham came back inside. Tommy smiled at him as he returned to his desk— the exact kind of smile that screamed, ‘I just called you a jackass while you were in the other room.’

As he settled back into his chair, he let out a heavy sigh and said, “I’m sorry about that.”

Tommy waved his hand. “Not a problem at all. We’re nothing if not patient.”

Jack had to suppress a laugh at that.

Fordham took his key out of his pocket and leaned over to unlock the desk drawer Tommy had just been rifling through. His brows furrowed when he grabbed the drawer’s handle and it slid open a crack before he’d even put the key in. Jack’s heart stopped as he paused, clearly contemplating why the thing wasn’t locked.

By some stroke of luck, he moved on without saying anything about it. Although a hint of confusion remained on his face, he just put the key back in his pocket and pulled his file out. Maybe he assumed he’d just forgotten to lock it. Or that the lock was broken. Whatever the reason, Jack was grateful for it.

Without wasting any time, Fordham picked up where he left off. He explained how Ross had been missing for a long time, and then how he had been fished out of the river recently. He told them that he had been shot to pieces, emphasizing how angry someone would have to be to do something like that.

Finally, at the end of his explanation, Fordham looked straight into Jack’s eyes and asked, “What do you make of all that?”

Jack froze, his heart jumping into his throat. What did he make of it? He had no idea how to answer that— at least not in a way that wouldn’t make him look suspicious.

Luckily, he didn’t have to. Tommy answered for him, “We think it’s awful. We both read about it in the newspaper. It’s very distressing that someone would do such a thing— and to such a respectable member of the community, at that.”

Jack knew he was talking out of his ass, but those words ticked him off nonetheless. ‘Respectable.’ What a joke.

“Really?” Fordham asked skeptically. “You were unhappy to hear he was killed? Why? From what I understand, you hated him.”

Tommy countered, “Well, hating someone and wanting them to be murdered are two very different things, Mr. Fordham.”

“I suppose,” Fordham agreed, “but he was also asking around to find Ross around the time we believe he was killed.” His gaze honed in on Jack again. “Why were you looking for him?”

Tommy started to answer, “He—”

Fordham held a hand up to silence him. “The question was for Marston.”

Tommy gave a strained smile. “Right. Pardon me.” Folding his hands in his lap, he looked at Jack. “Jack?”

His stare was intense— it told Jack that he better not mess this up. Swallowing his anxiety as best he could, he answered with what he assumed he was supposed to: “I wasn’t looking for him.”

The subtle look of relief on Tommy’s face confirmed that that had been the right answer.

“You were,” Fordham stated matter-of-factly. “That agent you talked to specifically named you as the person he believed asked him about Ross. He gave a very detailed description of you too.”

“I didn’t talk to any agent. He was mistaken,” Jack muttered. “I’ve told you that before. I never talked to any of you. About Ross or anything else.”

“He was very confident that it was you. I’m not sure how he could make a mistake like that. ”

“Incompetence, maybe?” Tommy suggested, shrugging. “And, perhaps, attempting to cover up that incompetence by pointing a finger at the most convenient person to blame?”

That made Fordham falter a bit. He didn’t seem to be able to argue with it. The guy apparently was incompetent; they wouldn’t have fired him otherwise. “Well, even if that were true,” he said, annoyance starting to seep into his voice, “he was still also positively identified by several other people he talked to.”

According to what they’d just read in his little file, that was a blatant lie….

Tommy called his bluff: “Really? Who?”

“I can’t disclose that.”

Tommy hummed. “Alright then….”

The dismissiveness of that response appeared to increase Fordham’s irritation. He took a moment to reference his file and then changed the subject. “Um, you were also notably absent from Blackwater around the time he was killed,” he said. “People normally see you around town often, but there was a week or so where no one knew where you were. That’s an odd coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Jack, where were you around that time?” Tommy asked. “Do you remember?”

Jack was caught off guard by the question; he was hoping Tommy would speak for him. Still, he took the hint to mention Bonnie. Avoiding eye contact, he quietly answered, “I was staying with a friend.”

“Who?” Fordham asked, his tone making it clear that he already didn’t believe him. “That girl?”

“No,” Jack said, his voice coming out a bit snippy. “A friend of my family. Bonnie Macfarlane. She has a ranch in Hennigan’s Stead.”

“Okay….” He grabbed a pen and a pad of paper and scribbled something down. Then, keeping the pen ready on the page, he asked, “And what exactly were you doing there?”

“I went there right after my mother died,” he lied, his voice cracking at the mention of her. “Because… I didn’t want to be in the house alone.“ At least that part was true….

Fordham squirmed, clearly uncomfortable with that answer. Jack might’ve even thought he felt bad, but he knew better than to think a bureau agent could have any kind of remorse. He set his pen down, not bothering to write any more.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Okay. Is that also where you were when we knocked on your door looking for you a few weeks ago?”

Jack paused and stared down at the floor, not knowing how to answer that. The question felt like a trap— it was asked in a way that suggested Fordham already knew the answer. If he lied and claimed he had been at Bonnie’s when they came knocking, it might discredit everything else he’d said. If he told the truth, he would look guilty for hiding from them. There was no winning.

“It’s a yes or a no…” Fordham said impatiently.

When he still didn’t say anything, Tommy answered for him, “No, that’s not where he was. From what my sister told me, he was in the house with her when she answered the door that day.”

Widening his eyes, Jack snapped his head up to look at him. Why would he just admit that?

“That’s what I thought.” Fordham clicked his tongue. “So…” he drew the word out as he referenced his file, “you weren’t in Boston at any point in the last month either then?”

Tommy answered for him again, “No. He was not.”

“Have you ever been there?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Then why, when we came knocking, did your friend claim that you were there?” Fordham asked, leaning forward against his desk and clasping his hands together. “The way I see it, if you did nothing wrong, there would be no reason to hide from us— and definitely no reason to lie to us. All you had to do was cooperate, and—”

“Cooperate?” Jack repeated, his eye twitching. “You mean like my father did? Before you killed him?”

Fordham’s brows rose and he stuttered a bit, clearly caught off guard by Jack’s sudden boldness. “I didn’t have anything to do with that,” he said, the words dripping with defensiveness.

Jack narrowed his eyes, and his cheeks began to turn hot. Was he serious? Was he really going to pretend like he was completely innocent in everything that happened? “Yes, you did,” he said through gritted teeth. Clenching his fists, he raised his voice. “All of you did! You—”

He sucked in a breath as Tommy’s foot landed down hard on top of his, effectively silencing him.

“I believe what he’s trying to say,” Tommy said, shooting him an irritated glance, “is that given certain past events, he wasn’t comfortable interacting with law enforcement. So he had his friend talk to them. That’s all there was to it.”

“That doesn’t explain why his friend would feel the need to spin some ridiculous story about where he was.” His voice had risen slightly.

“Well, she—”

Jack interjected, “She did it to get you pieces of shit to leave me alone.”

Fordham scowled. For the first time since they’d gotten there, he looked genuinely angry.

Tommy gaped at Jack. “Do you need to step out for a minute?” he asked, the horror in his voice barely restrained.

Jack pursed his lips, taking deep breaths through his nose to calm himself. He opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted before anything could come out.

“Go ahead. I think you should,” Tommy said, nodding towards the door. He quickly shifted his attention back to Fordham. “Please forgive his outbursts; he’s—”

“You know, I think we’re done here.” Fordham coldly interrupted. ”I don’t see this going anywhere productive from here. I thought he was coming here to be cooperative. It’s clear that’s not the case.” He sighed and murmured, “I’m not going to waste my time on this anymore.”

Jack wasn’t the slightest bit upset to hear that; he’d wanted nothing more than to leave the entire time they’d been there. As far as he was concerned, they got what they needed— Tommy had read their stupid little file. There was no need to waste their time on this asshole anymore.

“He can leave,” Tommy said, trying to salvage the situation. “You and I can keep talking things out without him—”

“I’m not interested in talking to you,” Fordham said curtly. “You can both leave.”

Tommy blinked at him, a look of offense plastered onto his face. He quickly shook the look off and pressed his lips together, his nostrils flaring. “Very well then.”

He stood up, motioning for Jack to get up as well. Jack didn’t have to be told twice; he was at the door before Tommy had even taken two steps away from his chair.

“One other thing,” Fordham called to them as Jack opened the door. “You have a fine due at the end of this month. A hundred dollars. For dueling.”

Tommy froze and turned to face him. “Oh? I wasn’t made aware of that.” Pressing his lips together, he shot Jack another look of disdain.

“I— I forgot,” Jack stammered.

He narrowed his eyes and murmured, “I’m sure you did….” Rubbing his forehead, he composed himself and looked back at Fordham. “Well, we appreciate the reminder. That won’t be an issue.”

Tommy approached the desk, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a thick clip of cash. Unclipping it, he carefully thumbed through the bills, mouthing to himself as he counted them out. Once he finished, he slapped a stack of bills down onto the desk, sliding it over to Fordham, and returned the rest to his pocket.

“There you are,” he said, flashing a stiff-lipped smile. “A hundred dollars— plus an extra fifty for your… consideration.”

Fordham stared at the money for a few seconds before pushing it back to the edge of his desk. “You can pay the hundred dollars at City Hall,” he said coldly. “We don’t take payment here.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s smile became closer to a sneer. “Right. My mistake.”

He scooped the cash back up and shoved it into his pocket. After, he nodded at Fordham and said, a hint of contempt seeping into his voice, “Take care.” Sighing, he turned away from Fordham and grabbed onto the back of Jack’s bicep, his grip uncomfortably tight. He pushed him towards the exit. “Let’s get outta here, Marston.”

They shuffled out of the office and finally, out of the building. As they walked away from the police department, Jack expected Tommy to start yelling at him for his outburst. Surprisingly, he didn’t. He didn’t say anything at all, in fact. He just kept his eyes forward, heading straight for the alley where they were meeting Lilly and her friend. Jack didn’t know whether to be relieved by his silence or wary of it.

When they slipped off the street and into the alley, Jack was pleased to see the women already waiting for them at the far end of it.

The instant he laid eyes on Lilly, his father’s hat still sitting atop her head, he was flooded with relief. Nothing that had just happened in Fordham’s office mattered to him anymore. All that mattered was that he made it out— fresh air was filling his lungs again. None of the horrible things he’d feared would happen had even come close to happening.

As he and Tommy got further down the alleyway, the sound of their footsteps made the women look up. Jack’s heart swelled when Lilly’s eyes met his, and a huge grin spread across her face.

“There you are!” she said, hiking up her skirt to jog the short distance between them. When she reached him, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, which he happily returned. Pulling back, she looked him over. “And completely unscathed, just as I thought you’d be.”

“Physically,” he quipped, unable to keep himself from mirroring the grin on her face.

She laughed, wrinkling her nose in that way that he always adored. Her eyes flitted up to the top of his head. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “This belongs to you.” She took his hat off her head and plopped it back onto his where it belonged.

He adjusted it and gave her a grateful nod. “Thanks for lookin’ after it.”

“Anytime,” she said. “I had fun playin’ cowboy for a little bit.”

Jack chuckled.

Their banter was interrupted when Tommy scoffed and pushed past them. He approached the working girl who’d helped them; she had been standing aside patiently, probably waiting for the rest of her payment.

“Did everything go alright on your end?” Tommy asked her, his voice flat.

“Sure, honey, I’m just fine,” she replied. “That man was real polite to me, actually. He even gave me ten dollars to make up for something I said was stolen from me.” She crossed her arms and sighed. “I almost feel bad for lying to him now.”

“You shouldn’t,” Jack blurted out.

Her eyes darted over to him, and she gave him a look of confusion.

“Ignore him,” Tommy grumbled. He pulled a stack of pre-counted cash out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. “Here’s the other half. Thank you for the help. We appreciate it.”

“Of course. Thank you for the opportunity. It felt good to get those things off my chest— and get paid for it too!” She grabbed the money, quickly counting it and then stuffing it into her corset. Leaning in very close to him, she asked with a coy smile, “Anything else I can do for you, honey?”

He drew back a bit, stiffening. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

She shrugged. “Okay. Well, if you change your mind, you just let me know.” With a wink, she stepped away from Tommy and shifted her gaze to Lilly, giving her a small nod. “I should get goin’. Bye, Lilly. I’ll see you around.”

Lilly thanked her and returned her goodbye, and she left, giving them all a little wave.

Once she was gone, the alley went unnervingly quiet. Tommy started to pace about, his arms folded behind his back. Jack stiffened and braced himself, expecting him to speak, but once again, Tommy remained silent. He shared a glance with Lilly, who mirrored his expression of concern and confusion. He cocked his head, silently asking what was going on with him.

She shrugged and then cautiously called out, “Tommy? Everything okay?”

He didn’t acknowledge her.

Leaning in to Jack, she whispered, “Did something happen?”

He fidgeted as he recalled how their meeting ended. “Kind of….”

“Oh, boy.”

“He got what we went there for though,” he spluttered. “More information. I don’t know why he’s—”

Their quiet conversation died when Tommy stopped his pacing, his back turned to them. “So,” he said, followed by a pause to let them stew in their anticipation. “You didn’t think that it might’ve been useful for me to know that you shot some other asshole in a duel?”

Jack squirmed, staring at the back of his head. “I for—”

He whipped around. “Bullshit, you forgot. No one forgets shooting someone.”

Unable to argue with that, Jack froze and snapped his lips shut.

“Also, what happened to not saying anything unless you’re told to?” he continued. “You made this big deal about not wanting to talk to him, but you sure seemed to have a lot to say at the end there.”

Jack’s face grew hot, and he clenched his jaw. “I was mad.”

“Well, now I’m fuckin’ mad,” Tommy spat. “You just burned every bridge you could’ve had with that guy. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

“I didn’t even say that much! I—”

“You said enough.”

“Well, I don’t care!” Jack shouted, his breathing now heavy and uneven. “I don’t want ‘bridges’ with that guy. I don’t want anything from him. I hate him! You even said yourself that he’s a—”

Leaning in, Tommy hissed, “Keep your voice down, dumbass.”

Jack clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. God, he wanted to hit this piece of shit.

“Tommy, why are you so upset?” Lilly interjected before things got any more heated. “It could’ve been a lot worse. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? All that information?”

“No. I didn’t get what I wanted,” Tommy snapped back at her. “What I wanted was to talk things out— just have a simple conversation to make this problem go away so I can be on my merry fucking way. But evidently, Mr. Fordham over there is too good for that. Too good to talk things out, too good for my money….” He cut off his rant with a huff and grumbled, “Pompous fuckin’ asshole….”

“Calm down—”

“You calm down.”

“I am calm,” Lilly retorted. “You’re the only one here who isn’t calm.”

Breathing heavily, Tommy looked between them a few times and then down at the ground. His shoulders relaxed a bit, but the bitter scowl remained on his face as he examined the concrete. Jack and Lilly stared at him, the uneasiness heavy in the air as they all fell quiet.

After a moment, Tommy took a deep breath through his nose and raised his head. Addressing Jack in a tone that was strained but much calmer, he said, “Here.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out the wad of cash that he’d offered Fordham earlier, and shoved it into Jack’s hands. “Go pay your stupid fine. I’m going to the car.”

Jack clutched the cash against his chest, a bit taken aback as Tommy turned and stormed out of the alleyway.

Lilly sighed and crossed her arms, watching him stomp away.

“What’s his problem?” Jack asked her, a hint of anger remaining in his voice. “That meeting went a lot better than I thought it would. Why’s he this mad about it?”

“It didn’t go exactly the way he wanted it to, so as far as he’s concerned, it was a complete shitshow.” She shook her head. “I’ll go talk to him. You should go pay that fine; we’ll wait for you back at the car.”

Keeping her arms crossed, she began walking out of the alleyway. Jack stayed put and flipped through the cash in his hand. His brows rose when he noticed that Tommy had given him that extra fifty dollars on top of the hundred for his fine. This brought his plan to build a birdhouse for Lilly back to the forefront of his mind. Fifty dollars was more than enough to get the supplies he needed for it.

Whether Tommy had meant to give it to him or not, Jack wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to ask. He didn’t want to lose the opportunity to do this for Lilly; he could always ask for forgiveness and pay it back later if he wasn’t supposed to spend the extra money.

“Hey, don’t bother waiting for me,” he called out to Lilly, stopping her in her tracks. “There’s some other stuff I wanted to do in town while I’m here. I’ll take a coach home.”

She turned back around to face him. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

She gave a short nod. “Alright, I’ll see you later then. Stay safe out here, okay?”

Jack snorted. “I’ll try.”

She started to protest, “No, you—”

“I will,” he corrected in unison with her.

A grin spread across her face, sending his heart fluttering as always. “Good.”

With that, she continued walking out of the alleyway. Jack lingered for a moment, becoming acutely aware of his racing heartbeat as he watched her disappear around the corner.

He needed to tell her how he felt. Before he lost the chance to. But he didn’t know how. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it; saying things wasn’t his strong point. Knowing him, he’d only mess things up somehow.

He sighed out his frustration and slapped his hand against his forehead, as if that might knock some sense into him. He could dwell on what to say later. For now, he just needed to focus on building that birdhouse for her. If he couldn’t tell her he loved her, he could at least show her.

With that plan in mind, he took a breath and strolled out of the alleyway, heading towards City Hall to pay off one of his sins.

#we're so back x #lookin' sharp jackie ;)#(he hates those clothes)#jack marston #adult jack marston #rdr1 #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #my writing #//my blessed son

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