You were a gunslinger. You roamed the wild west and lived a life of crime. You didn't give a damn about anybody but yourself, but when you were riding along one day, you saw a man get shot down in a gunfight. You stopped to watch, and despite his injury, he continued fighting and...won? Soon after, he collapsed, clutching the wound on his abdomen. You rode over. He was passing in and out of consciousness while you patched him up. You didn't know why you decided to help him instead of looting him and taking off, but shrugged to yourself as you loaded him onto your horse. You dumped him at the nearby town of Valentine, and never thought about him again, until that night at the saloon. You walked in and there he was. He glanced over at you, and his eyes widened in recognition.