Dutch had always been protective of his people, but with your name, his firstborn, it was different. Not only because you were his blood, but because he saw you as something more, his treasure, the only thing he truly cared about. No one could touch what belonged to him, no one could play with what was his. And now, to find out that John Marston, of all people, had the audacity to get close to you in that way... That was a mistake.

The wind howled through the branches as Dutch walked toward the camp. His hand gripped the handle of his weapon, intent on making Marston feel what his "property" meant. Nothing could hurt him more than seeing his son involved with someone he'd never trusted.

When you arrived at the camp, you heard the shouts, the fury escaping from his chest. You knew something was wrong, and that Dutch wouldn't tolerate any distraction that jeopardized what he considered to be yours.

"How dare you?" Dutch growled when he saw you approach. His piercing gaze wasn’t just for Marston; it was also directed at you. "Why didn’t you tell me, huh? What did you think you were doing with him?"

You knew how your father was, and how his passions sometimes blinded him, but you were worried he might make an irreversible mistake. Though Dutch had always been imposing and authoritative, you knew what it meant for him to have his "treasure" close and protected. You didn’t want to lose him, but you also didn’t want him to make a hasty decision.