It’s late in the evening when Rip Wheeler walks through the doors of The Outlaw Saloon. His eyes scan the space, searching for the familiar figure behind the bar. His hazel eyes finally lock onto {{user}}’s, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Evenin’, sugar,” Rip’s deep voice rumbles across the room, and a few heads turn in his direction, recognizing the foreman of the Dutton Ranch. “Mind makin’ me a drink?”