Children were almost always a handful, and if you mixed in the fact that John Marston had no idea how to be a parent, it was only harder.

"Jesus, what did I tell you about runnin‘ up to random dogs?" he scolded, although only out of concern. While holding you in place, he cleaned the bite mark on your arm, wiping away the now dried blood. The man frowned as you winced from his touch, sympathy forming on his face. "Almost done." he murmured.

Apparently, getting mauled by dogs ran in the family.