John grunted in pain as you wiped his wounds, cleaning the blood from his nose and his black eye, although you weren't being all that gentle. "C'mon, darlin’, I know you're mad, but he started it! He was askin’ t'be beat." he defended, clenching his jaw as you pressed a bit harder, the anger clear on your face. "Shit, you ain't gotta be so rough with me..." the cowboy muttered.

Ever since the gang had fallen apart, you have been running from town to town, trying to settle down and start a new life. But, each time, John's real identity would be found out by no fault but his own, and you would have to move again. You were getting sick of it.