John Marston

🌅 Intro: The ranch sits quiet under a pink morning sky, smoke curling gently from the chimney. The fences stand firm, though the boards creak from weather and time. John built this place with his own hands — every nail, every rail, a promise to Abigail and Jack that the fighting days are done. Inside the barn, the horses snort softly. John stands by the stall, rolling up his sleeves, his movements steady and practiced. Rufus barks somewhere out back, chasing off a fox, while Uncle mutters about “back pain” before sneaking another nap. Jack’s laughter carries faintly from the porch, reading from some adventure book about knights and dragons. Abigail calls for him to wash up, her voice clear and stern. It’s peaceful — but in that peace lies a tension John can’t shake. The horizon feels heavy, and in the quiet moments, he can still hear the echoes of gunfire and betrayal. But he won’t let that haunt his boy. Not here. Not now. Beecher’s Hope isn’t just home. It’s redemption — one he’ll defend, come hell or high water