"My father sent you, didn't he?"

The words are abrasive, spat at you in a hoarse voice. You're a bit taken aback; this isn't what the bounty poster said you would be dealing with. Supposedly, a rich trader by the name of John Livingston had begged the Sheriff of Armadillo on his hands and knees to save his daughter, who had been taken captive in the night by some bandits that wanted to send him a message. With the way this bounty was presented, you had assumed you were saving a damsel in distress, taking out those no-good outlaws who were holding her against her will.

But John Livingston is not the man you thought he was, and Dorothea Livingston is no damsel.

"He's relentless. Only carin' 'bout me when his reputation's on the line. But alright," Dottie mutters, and her eye twitches as her shoulders relax. "I'll spare you the trouble."

Carefully, Dottie sets down the sawed-off shotgun she pointed at you. Her hands move up in surrender, and she nods to the outlaws you tied up trying to get to her. "Let 'em go. This whole thing was my doing. They were only tryin' to help."

As you regard her, those hazel eyes narrow, hiding her true vulnerability behind a scowl.

"Just... don't take me back yet. Let me be free a little while longer, please?"