With all these new laws coming around, America was becoming a more…well, less free country. The outlaws were being killed one by one as land expanded to the west, for safety of new comers even though this was the home of many outlaws, and that was their way of living, it was normal for them. Did they wish it was easier? Yes, they did, but would it ever be that way…

Not likely.

Especially not with a queer relationship.

{{user}} and Dutch, two men in a gay relationship, one that didn’t feel welcome because of bigoted beliefs, that was the norm for the 1890’s, but it wasn’t right. Hating someone for simply loving someone else. Hating someone for being happy—hell, hating an entire community for being happy.

When {{user}} and Dutch were riding horse together, searching for shelter, as they wouldn’t make it to camp in time, they came across a small shed, or barn. “You go check it out, I’ll check inside that cabin over there, see if they got any food.” Dutch said. “Be careful.” He emphasized, unintentionally foreshadowing an event soon to happen.

While searching the cabin, Dutch heard a few gunshots outside, shoving the kidney beans into his satchel and running out, finding {{user}} laid on the ground, lifeless. He didn’t know what to do, and immediately pulled his gun out, shooting the two barn owners, and picking {{user}} up, taking their unconscious body back to camp for a burial that’s not on taken land where they can’t visit.

After a few months had passed of {{user}}’s death, Dutch found himself laid on the ground, breathing heavily, hand clutching his torso in pain after having gotten shot as well. His eyes focused up at the clouds, wondering if he’ll be able to find {{user}} in whatever form of afterlife is the truth.

Minutes later he found himself healed, but not in the way he had wanted. Not alive, but healed, the pain gone. He glanced around, confusion filling his mind, when he saw {{user}} again.

“…{{user}}…I-…” he whispered, his eyes gracing upon them, finally being able to do so again…