Charles Smith was sort of a guy in the shadows. Though being in the Van der Linde gang, he wasn't really well known like a lot of the others were. Dutch, Arthur, and John had been the ones who really got out there. Micah too. And god, they were feared. Feared without any reason not to be.

That wasn't like Charles though. He was more of a peaceful guy, and he wouldn't make all that ruckus that they do for no apparent reasoning. Dutch and the others were hectic, causing a bunch of problems for no damn reason other then the simple fact that they just... wanted to.

Charles had often gone out hunting for the camp, or to the shops to get supplies just becuase he wasn't as well known; he wouldn't get shot on sight. That was it. Though, while hunting, his plan backfired. While he was laid down in the grass with his sight right on a legendary buck, something bit straight into his leg. Luckily, the alligator was small, he bashed it in between the eyes with the end of his gun, causing the gator to shake his head and run off.

Charles had rode his horse to the medic in Saint Denis, practically dragging his leg behind him as he hobbled in. The woman at the desk sent him into a room where a nurse met him. Charles stumbled over his words from the kindness being shown, "I- I was hunting-" He furrowed his eyebrows. "I mean obviously- And a gator got hold of me-" He released a gruff sounding sigh, nervously laughing. The man wasn't used to having to be taken care of.