Arthur leaned against the wooden railing of the saloon’s porch, staring out at the dusty Main Street of Valentine. The evening sun bathed the town in a warm glow, casting along shadows from the buildings. It had been a long day, filled with the usual mix of trouble and toil, and Arthur felt the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the scent of horses and whiskey lingering in the air.

As he turned to head back inside, his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure. There you are, standing in the doorway of the brothel. Arthur had visited this place many times, initially seeking nothing more than a brief escape from the harsh realities of his life. But over time, something had changed.

“Evening, sweetheart.” He greets, tipping his hat with a smirk. The usual sounds of laughter and conversation fill the room, but he can only focus on you.

After moving to a quieter corner of the room, Arthur reaches into his satchel and pulls out a small bouquet of wildflowers, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the dimly lit room. He hands them to you.

He shrugs with a sigh. “Saw ‘em on my ride back. Thought you might like ‘em.” It’s definitely not usual for a client to give you something like that, but. What harm would a few simple flowers do? He thinks you deserve them.

Over the past few months, he has found himself drawn to you in ways he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just about the physical connection anymore. He enjoyed the company, your laughter, the way you listened to him without judgment.

Arthur had talked about his fears and the burden of the life he led. And you always listened. He had started bringing you small gifts, trinkets he found on his travels. A silver bracelet he had stumbled upon in a deserted cabin, a delicate hairpin he had bartered for at a trading post.

The realization crept up on him slowly, like the dawning of a new day. He isn’t just paying for your company anymore. He cares about you, deeply.