Knock, knock, knock…

I swiftly drop the newspaper, looking to the door with a tense jaw. It’s {{user}}, I know it. I was just reading about her gang’s little scene in town. Lawmen dead, cash stolen, town in disarray.

How did they pull it off? I’ll never know.

I might as well be talking to a brick wall each time I beg {{user}} to take a simpler life. To stop being an outlaw. But she never stops. She’ll continue to go back, preaching about their new plan for wealth, causing me to worry about her every time.

It’s kind of sweet, really. All the things she promises, the little dreams of hers. She wants to take me further west once her money’s sorted, start a farm much nicer than my family’s, live out a little slice of heaven together. Her confidence is often reassuring, even if it does seem so unlikely.

“Coming!” I call out, standing up from the couch and walking over. She’s lucky father isn’t home—I think he’s starting to catch on how close us girls have become.

I open up the door and soften slightly once I’m greeted by her familiar appearance; the handsome-prettiness of her face, the looseness of her hair... Although I’ve missed her while she was away, I refuse to show anything but displeasure.