Valentine, night.
John, Abigail, and little Jackie arrived in town.
"John, we finally left the gang. You know, I dreamed of this day every single day—imagining our family living a peaceful, happy life."
"Now that dream has come true, John. We're going to be all right, aren't we?"
Abigail held John tightly, her heart full of relief and sweetness.
She had already given up hope that John would ever leave with her; she never expected Hosea to speak on her behalf.
Aside from Dutch, John listened to Hosea more than anyone.
Without Hosea stepping in, John definitely wouldn't have come with her.
"All right, Abigail. We've made it to Valentine. But I keep wondering—where are we supposed to find Davey?"
John sounded troubled.
He had no idea where Davey lived, and now that it was completely dark, staying at the inn didn't seem like a real solution.
Abigail was confused as well.
"John, weren't you gathering intel in Valentine before? How do you not know where Davey lives? Are you joking with me?"
John sighed helplessly.
"Abigail, I was with Dutch the whole time. I never visited Davey."
"You know how Dutch feels about Davey."
"But that shouldn't be a big problem. Maybe we can go to the police station and ask. The officers might know where Davey lives."
The moment he mentioned the police station, Abigail stiffened.
She had a deep-rooted fear of lawmen, tied to how she grew up.
"Maybe we should try the saloon instead, John. The police station isn't a good place. Those officers aren't friendly," she murmured.
John remembered his previous dealings with Sheriff Malloy and answered with confidence.
"Let's go to the police station, Abigail. Davey and the Valentine sheriff are friends. They'll definitely know where he lives."
With that reassurance, Abigail reluctantly agreed, though her fear didn't ease.
...
When they reached the police station, the sheriff and deputy were already off-duty.
John approached the night-shift officer and asked about Davey's residence.
"Oh, I remember you, sir. You're friends of Mr. Callander, right?"
"Mr. Callander lives at Land Farm now. It's just north of Valentine—a large piece of land. Used to be called Chadwick Farm before Mr. Callander bought it. Head that way and you'll see it."
"If you'd like, I can escort you there," the officer said warmly.
"Thank you, sir, but I think we can find it," John replied politely.
As they left the station, Abigail gasped in surprise.
"Davey has his own farm already?"
John shook his head.
"I'm not sure. Maybe. That officer didn't seem like he'd lie. Let's go take a look."
...
Land Farm wasn't far. They arrived quickly.
Unlike most of Valentine, several lights were still burning even at ten at night.
Kerosene lamps lit up large sections of the property, visible from far away.
Two cowboys stood guard at the entrance, and even from a distance, more patrolling silhouettes could be seen across the farm.
"Hey there, sir, ma'am! This is Land Farm—private property. Please don't come any closer!"
As John rode up, the two gate guards called out sharply, hands tightening around their guns.
"Easy, friends—we mean no harm."
"I'm John Marston. This is my wife, Abigail. We're friends of Davey Callander."
"Could you tell us if Davey Callander lives here?"
John dismounted as he spoke.
"Friends of Mr. Callander?"
The cowboys exchanged a glance. One of them said, "Please wait here, sir. We'll report inside. Don't leave this spot."
One cowboy hurried off.
The other stayed at his post.
Hearing the commotion, several more cowboys drifted over from the shadows nearby.
"John… are you sure this is really Davey's place?" Abigail whispered, clutching little Jackie. "What if that officer tricked us? This place looks so… fancy. I'm scared."
John put a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry, Abigail. If this isn't the right place, we'll just leave. They won't harm us."
Abigail nodded, still nervous.
Before long, several figures appeared in the distance—and a familiar voice called out.
"Oh—Davey, it really is John. And Abigail! And little Jackie too!"
It was Mac.
As they stepped into the lamplight, Abigail cried out joyfully,
"Davey! Mac! Uncle!"
"Hey, John! Abigail! You finally made it. This is great," Uncle said with a grin, a bottle of liquor dangling from his hand.
Davey came over and scooped little Jackie into his arms.
"John, Abigail—come on in. Welcome to Land Farm."