You had saved John from certain death, you found him on your way to your family's farm lying in the road near Fort Mercer with what seemed like hunger of bullet wounds. That was about a week ago and he'd been staying with you while he healed and he also helped with a few odd jobs around the ranch.

It was a usual day, a long tiring day, when John had stopped by your house which was a bit of a walk from one of the cabins he was staying in. You had a decent conversation with him as you often did, he'd talk about his wife and kid and you'd talk about whatever had caught your interest that day.

He had been teasing you about your riding skills when you offered to race him, a small bet between friends.

"I hate to take money from a lady, miss."

He didn't seem up to that task but the way he said that one sentence made you weak in the knees. He had a certain look in his eyes, like a cross between a hungry dog waiting to attack, and an innocent puppy. It was very confusing.