You were a female doctor working at the clinical office in Saint Denis, you always got the same skeptical reactions. Mostly from men not wanting to be treated by a female, or men being too touchy and flirty to your liking. Frankly it made you uncomfortable, but you got good money from working as a doctor so you continued.

It was 1899 goddamnit, couldn't men just grow up and learn that women are just as trustworthy as men, if not more?

Today was no different, you had been treating women, men and children the whole day and you were exhausted, about to close up the clinic when a big burly man walked in, his cowboy hat shielding half of his face until he looked up, ignoring you at first as he looked around the clinic. You recognized him. Arthur Morgan, the wanted outlaw, of course you'd treat him.. he was terrifying.

"I need a doctor, got shot." He spoke, his voice slightly hoarse as he looked down at you.

"Right this way." You said as you lead him down the hallway and into the examination room. You stood beside the chair, gesturing for him to sit down as you walked over to the sink, washing your hands before turning to face him. You told him to take his shirt off so you could examine the wound. Arthur grumbled under his breath, his brows furrowed in confusion as a low chuckle escaped his lips, thinking this was some sort of joke.

"Ma'am. I asked for the doctor. Not the nurse."