Colter, the third morning after the Adler Ranch
The door creaked open with a groan, letting in a gust of biting wind and a swirl of snow. Arthur stepped in first, stamping the frost off his boots. Cam followed, tugging down his scarf, his face red from the cold. Javier was already by the fire, rubbing his hands together.
Inside, the cabin was warm, but not exactly welcoming. Tension hung in the air like thick smoke. Tilly, Abigail, and Mary-Beth were huddled close to the fireplace, voices low.
Abigail glanced over, eyes tired, jaw clenched.
"He ain't been seen in days. The weather ain't let up."
Arthur gave a slight nod, brushing snow off his shoulders. Cam hung back, eyes scanning the others—still adjusting to this kind of family, this kind of concern.
Tilly looked up. "He's strong. And he's smart."
Abigail sighed, her voice quieter. "Strong, at least."
Arthur crossed the room and held his hands to the flames. Cam joined him, grateful for the heat. Silence stretched a little too long.
"Hello, Arthur," Abigail said, standing slowly.
"Abigail," he replied, turning to face her.
She hesitated. "Arthur... how you doin'?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed, tone dry. "Just fine, Abigail… and you?"
Cam noticed the tension immediately, but kept quiet.
"I need you to…" Abigail looked down, embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry to ask, but…"
"It's little John," Arthur muttered. "Got himself caught in a scrape again, huh?"
Abigail's shoulders tensed. "He ain't been seen in two… two days."
Arthur didn't blink. "Your John'll be fine. He may be dumb as rocks and dull as rusted iron… but that ain't changed just 'cause he wandered into a snowstorm."
Hosea stood from the corner. "At least go take a look."
He turned to Javier. "Javier?"
"Sí?"
"You and Arthur. Go find him. You're the two best fit men we've got."
Cam straightened at that, stepping forward. "Make it three."
Javier turned to him, brows raised.
"I ain't just here to sit around and warm my boots," Cam said simply. "I'll ride."
Arthur glanced at him for a beat—then nodded.
"We could use the help," Javier said, grabbing his saddlebag.
Abigail's eyes darted between them. "Thank you… all of you."
Cam grabbed his rifle from where it leaned against the wall. "Let's go find your man."
The three stepped out into the blizzard, snow already piling high on their coats as they mounted their horses and rode out into the white abyss.
Somewhere in the Grizzlies West, following a river trail
The snow didn't fall anymore—it crashed, thick and relentless. Visibility was barely a few yards, and even then, the world was nothing but white and gray. The trees looked like ghosts. Their breath misted like smoke from tired lungs.
Cam tugged his coat tighter. His horse huffed beneath him, struggling through the snowdrifts.
"We don't even know if we're headed the right way," Arthur muttered.
"He was headed up the river," Javier called from the front. "Last I saw him, he said he was looking for higher ground."
Cam squinted through the falling snow. "Let's just hope he didn't find a cliff instead."
Arthur chuckled—grimly. "Wouldn't be the first time."
They rode in silence for a while, hooves crunching over ice and rock. Cam kept his eyes sharp, scanning the trail, the river, the tree lines. Every sound was muffled, every echo twisted by the cold.
Javier reined his horse in. "Hold up. Campfire smoke—there."
He pointed toward a thinning of trees. A faint, curling ribbon of black smoke rose against the white sky.
They dismounted, trudging through the deep snow.
"Still warm," Cam said, crouching by the coals. He pressed his gloved hand near the ashes. "Whoever lit it was here not long ago."
"Looks like they went up that ridge," Javier added, squinting ahead. "Maybe John."
Arthur kicked snow off his boots. "Let's go see if the fool froze or found shelter."
They mounted up again, horses snorting steam. The trail was tight and winding now, leading them higher into the cliffs.
"So," Cam asked after a long stretch of silence, "you really think John's still alive?"
Arthur shrugged. "If he's not, I'm draggin' him back just to kick his frozen ass."
Javier laughed. "He's tough. You know that."
"He's stubborn," Arthur corrected. "Difference between the two."
As they rode, the path narrowed into a rocky ledge—one slip, and it was a long way down.
"Stay close," Javier warned. "Not much room to fall."
The snow blew harder, stinging their faces. Cam's hat nearly flew off, but he grabbed it in time. His horse skidded slightly on a patch of ice, and he gritted his teeth, pulling it steady.
Arthur glanced back. "You good?"
"I ain't the one who wandered off into a blizzard half-dead," Cam shot back. "I'm fine."
Eventually, the path widened again, and they reached a crest overlooking the valley below. It should've been beautiful—but it was just cold, empty, and unforgiving.
Then—
A bloodied horse lay dead in the snow ahead.
Javier dismounted first. "That's John's horse."
Arthur cursed under his breath.
Cam knelt by the carcass, brushing snow from the saddle. "He didn't get far on foot."
They looked up at the mountain looming beyond.
"We're on foot from here," Arthur said. "Grab your guns."
Javier tossed Arthur a shotgun from his saddle.
"You and Cam take the lead," he said. "I'll watch our backs."
They climbed the slope slowly, boots crunching against rock and ice.
Halfway up, Arthur called out: "John! John Marston!"
Nothing but wind.
They pushed forward, rounding a jagged rock.
"Arthur! Over here!" A voice—raspy, weak—echoed through the storm.
Cam spun toward it. "There!"
Just ahead, on a narrow ledge, John lay slumped against the stone. His coat was torn, his face scratched and bloodied. He looked like hell.
The wind howled, shrieking through the frozen cliffs. Snow beat against Arthur's coat as he slid down the ledge, boots crunching against ice. John was sprawled out in the snow, blood crusted around his mouth, his face pale as bone.
"Never thought I'd say this," John rasped, lips trembling from the cold, "but... it's good to see you, Arthur Morgan."
Arthur knelt beside him, giving the man a once-over, eyeing the deep gashes down John's side. Nasty claw marks—too close for comfort.
"You don't look so good," Arthur muttered, brow furrowed.
John chuckled weakly. "I don't feel too good neither."
Behind them, Cam and Javier watched from the ridge, breath visible in the frost-choked air. Arthur hooked an arm under John and hefted him up with a grunt, slinging him over his shoulder like dead weight.
"I'm freezing," John groaned.
Cam stepped forward and helped Arthur up the ridge, boots slipping slightly as they climbed.
Arthur laid John down in the snow before Javier. "Don't die just yet, cowboy."
"Come on, compadre," Javier said, already shifting his grip.
Cam checked the rifle slung across his back and looked at the narrowing path ahead. "No going back the way we came. Slope's too steep."
Javier nodded. "We try this way."
Snow blasted across their faces as they moved toward a clearing, the blizzard thickening around them. Arthur looked at John over his shoulder.
"Well, ain't you a sorry sight."
John let out a pained smirk. "Can't argue with you there."
"See? Told Dutch you weren't the right man for this."
"I'm sure you did."
John winced, clutching at his side.
"You alright?" Javier asked, glancing over.
"I think so."
"Let's move before the storm eats us alive," Cam muttered.
They trudged through the white, bodies hunched against the wind. The mountain fell quiet—too quiet. Cam's hand instinctively dropped to his revolver.
A howl split the silence.
"Look up there," Javier said, pointing.
Three wolves stood on a ridge, staring down at them, yellow eyes glowing through the snow.
"Shit," Arthur hissed.
John groaned, "Perfect."
Arthur set John down by Javier. "You two get him to the horses."
Javier grabbed John and threw him over his shoulder again. "Alright, John, let's get you out of here."
Cam stepped up beside Arthur, rifle already in his hands. "We'll keep them busy. Go."
Wolves began stalking down the hill, slow and deliberate.
"Keep 'em off us, Arthur!" Javier shouted.
"I got this," Arthur said.
"I've got your back," Cam added, raising his rifle.
The wolves charged.
Gunfire tore through the air—cracks echoing off the cliff walls. One wolf dropped. Then another. Cam shifted his aim, breath steady, heart racing. The last one lunged and Arthur caught it mid-air with a blast of buckshot.
Silence.
"You got 'em all," Javier called out. "Good work!"
Arthur and Cam jogged back toward the horses, snow clinging to their coats.
"Let's move before more of those bastards show up."
They mounted quickly—Arthur on his horse, Cam alongside him. Javier helped John onto the back of his own and climbed up front.
"Come on then," Javier urged, voice tight. "Let's get back to the others."
The ride down the mountain was a blur of snow and adrenaline. The cold bit deeper than ever. John clung to consciousness behind Javier.
"I don't feel too good," he mumbled.
"You'll be fine," Javier said. "Just like a dog bite."
John coughed a laugh. "Knew a feller got bit by a dog. Died an hour later."
"You ain't gonna die. Not yet."
Cam glanced behind them—and froze.
"More wolves!" he called out.
"They're on the right!" Javier shouted. "And left!"
Gunshots rang out again. Cam wheeled his horse around, firing as they rode. Another wolf yelped and collapsed in the snow.
"You see any more?" Javier shouted.
Arthur looked around. "Don't think so."
"Jesus," John breathed. "Still with us, Marston?" Arthur asked.
"Just about."
"You're gonna be okay," Javier said. "Got some shelter waiting."
"Thanks for coming for me," John murmured.
"That bullet in Blackwater, now this?" Javier grunted. "You've had a hell of a time."
"And Arthur always says... I'm lucky."
"None of us are lucky right now," Cam said under his breath.
They reached a frozen river. The hooves broke through thin layers of ice, sloshing water onto their legs.
"Let's ride the water for a bit," Javier said. "Try to lose the scent."
Arthur turned to John. "You know, we're gonna need a better story for that scar."
"So... freezing, bleeding, starving, damn near getting eaten to death ain't good enough for you?"
Arthur chuckled. "Nah. You can do better. One thing you ain't short on is fantasy."
Javier smirked. "Let's just get back while we're still breathing."
They crossed to the left, pushing hard through the wind.
"See those buildings up ahead, John?" Javier pointed. "That's camp. We're almost there."
As they reached the outskirts of Colter, Arthur called out.
"Can we get some help here?!"
Abigail burst from the cabin, relief and disbelief written on her face.
"You're alive! Oh God, you're alive!"
Lenny and Bill rushed out. They pulled John off too rough—he winced in agony.
"Careful, idiotas!" Javier snapped. "It's his leg."
Abigail was already helping John inside. "Come on, let's get you warm."
She looked back. "Thank you. All of you."
Hosea met Arthur and Cam at the door, Strauss behind him.
"Thank you, Arthur. Cam."
Arthur smirked. "You got any other lost maidens need savin'?"
Javier laughed under his breath and walked off.
"Not today," Hosea replied, smiling.
Arthur grew serious. "You and Dutch talk about how we're gettin' outta this?"
"I was just discussin' it with Herr Strauss," Hosea said. "When the weather breaks, we'll head east."
Arthur raised a brow. "East? Into all that… civilization?"
"I know. But west is where our problems are worse."
Hosea motioned to Strauss. "Let's get warm."
Strauss nodded at Arthur and Cam. "Thank you, Mr. Morgan. Mr. Gallagher."
The two watched them go, the wind howling still.
Arthur stepped into another cabin, brushing the snow from his coat. He sat at the table, lit a candle, and opened his journal.
We've been running for weeks. Found shelter in an old mining town… Resting now, waiting for the thaw. Hardly the spring I'd been hoping for…
He closed the book and looked out the frosted window, the snow still falling steady over Colter.