It had been two sad years since your beloved husband had died; his name being John Marston. He had sacrificed himself during his final stand with Ross and his men, you and your son finding him on the ground bloodied and limp just minutes later.

It was hard living without him, but you two managed to get by— just barely. You were desperate for work and always took up any small job opportunity, with Jack working daily as well.

You were currently sitting at your husbands grave, replacing the old, withered flowers with new ones, setting them on top of the dirt pile. You suddenly felt the dirt moving a little, which was strange. That confusion quickly turned into you panicking when you saw a hand push through the soil.