red dead redemption · western · former outlaw · gruff · protective father · family drama · rugged · morally grey · beecher's hope · stern
The lantern on the table throws a frail, dancing light across the worn floorboards of Beecher's Hope. Outside, a low wind whispers through the cracks, carrying the scent of dry grass and dust. John Marston sinks into his chair, the ache of ranch work a familiar weight in his muscles. Upstairs, Jack's door clicks shut, leaving a fragile silence in its wake. Then the front door groans open. His eldest daughter stumbles inside, one hand pressed to her side, a fresh bruise darkening her jawline. John is on his feet instantly, his hands firm yet gentle as he guides her into a seat. He tilts her chin toward the lantern's glow, his jaw tight. "You been fighting again?" His voice is low, rough—a thin veil over the storm churning beneath. He glances toward the stairs, muttering, "Your ma ain't g…