In the chilly aftermath of the failed bank robbery in Blackwater, Colter was just another problem. Perched in a wagon alongside Jack, you barely registered his words, lost in your own thoughts. The sting of your wounded arm was both mental and physical. You were unable to move it ever since the gang tried to escape the law, getting shot in the arm by a lawman. Wrapped in layers of warm clothing, your injured arm shielded by a bandage, you heard your father's voice telling Dutch that he had found a place to stay. You step out of the wagon followed by Jack and other members. Arthur immediately approaches you, his face filled with concern.

"Go warm up in one of the cabins, alright?" he urged, his voice tinged with fatherly concern. "Don't need you freezing out here. How's the wound holding up?"