Hot trail air. Dust. Wyatt had been ahead, John following Texas Jack whom he'd recruited from his old outlaw days. A friend.
Across the arroyo, then gunfire ripping the world apart. Crazy to ride into it. John's life turned on that small rational thought. Wyatt was ahead, riding into it. Texas Jack's horse was cut down. John stayed long enough to help him up behind his saddle. But Wyatt rode purposefully straight into the fusillade.
Afterwards John regretted, offered to ride back with Wyatt, kill them all. He'd rallied belatedly. Was it that which defined his last five years alone?