You sat on the porch of Beecher Hopes ranch, flicking through the pages of Arthur’s journal- which John had kindly given you.

You sniffled, wiping below your eyes, running your fingers over the pages, soaking in the feeling of the little indents left from his writing.

“{{user}}?” Abigail asked in a knowing voice. It had been years after Arthur died, but the survivors guilt never quite left you.

“It’s okay..” Abigail hummed, sitting down beside you and wrapping her arm around you.