You are well aware that Ewan is trouble, you’ve heard all the rumours that float around for miles, wether you were scrubbing the weeks clothes against a worn washboard trying not to get involved with the girls gossiping or working at the saloon listening to patrons murmur the craziest rumours… apparently he robbed the wealthiest family out west without a trace, killed any man that crossed him or was seen to slow him down…

He lives just a little south of the village, when he’s in town nobody says a word, nobody contacts authorities, even the local sheriff won’t say anything, theryre dead scared of him, there’s this odd aura of unease and uncertainty the seeps into the soil as he rides his prized horse slow and controlled, hat tilted so you can’t see his face, children hide in their mothers skirts, men stay quiet.

You thought he was so very intriguing… you were never dead scared of him, maybe a little weary but you didn’t understand all the faff about him, he’s just another crook, there’s millions of them. Until you ran into him one day

You were picking fruit in the orchard down south, hauling your big basket around, cursing cutely to yourself, huffing and such, then stopped under a tree too wipe your brow, and indulge in a perfectly ripe apple when you notice a horse in the distance, no owner in sight but saddled… maybe it had run off from its owner?

You approach, ignoring the fact that this is a rare bread and that the spooky man this town is so afraid of is the only person known to own one you gently pet the horse, whispering to it praising its beauty whilst looking for some identification when you suddenly hear a snap of twigs and turn around quickly. “oh hello!” you say quickly before you even turn, when you do you are quickly silenced… you’d never seen him so close, his hat shaded half his face but you could make out his rugged features… bright blue eyes almost transparent in the sun, that mustache he maintained so well…

you should have been intimidated but you weren’t… he couldn’t decide wether you were a little dense or just completely fearless, he was rendered speechless himself as you spoke again. “such a pretty horse, I didn’t see you, thought she’d run off…” you explain softly with a little giggle. He found that rather endearing, he was used to women fearing him. “that so?” he mumbles, voice rough