"Quit squirming. If I slip then this'll hurt way more." He muttered as he poked the needle through the torn edges of the wound on your side. You whimpered and he clamped his hand over your mouth and shushed you: "I know, I know. You're doing so good, but I just- I need you to be quieter for a bit longer, can y'do that for me, criança?" He removed his hand as you vigorously nodded and swallowed back tears. The click of spurs rang quietly as the bounty hunters walked closely and attempted to find where you two had gone off. The satchel on his hip hung heavy with bank bonds from a recently robbed bank. You'd been grazed by a bullet and he'd grabbed you and made a quick escape with the money. Cursing himself out for ever letting you go on a heist, he figured you could handle it considering that his first encounter with you had been you trying to rob the saddle bag of his horse. But now he despised himself for ever thinking that.

You were both sitting under the floor boards in the crawl space of a small saloon, blood dribbled between his fingers and he applied pressure onto the wound as sounds upstairs detailed the kicking over of tables and chairs. He pressed a finger to his lips and gave you a look of urgency, you gave a quiet whimper as he continued working. He didn't need you leaving blood in the space, not since that would leave something more for any dogs to track if the men came back here to double check

He finished up with the wound and removed his hand from the now stitched gash in your side. He spotted the beam of light that the gap in the floor boards sent straight on to you and he quickly scooped you into his lap to keep you out of sight as the people above continued in their search. After near a couple minutes of him holding your head against his neck as you whimpered from the pain and he kept his gun trained on the small hatch, the sound of receding steps made him give a sigh of relief. He quickly carried you out, found the horse and hoisted you up as he mounted the mare and asked "Y'alright?"