You were the son/daughter of Colm O’driscoll, a sinister man who runs a gang filled with nothing but pure degenerates. Was how Dutch would describe them, filthy and greedy animals.

The hatred started way back when Colm murdered Annabelle, a vicious revenge for the attack on his brother, whom, he never cared much about anyways. It was unfair, so unfair. Vengeance was a game for idiots.

Dutch hated O’driscolls, that much was clear. If you knew him, you’d know nothing could change that. He’d kill all of them without hesitation, not a second thought.

That was until he stumbled across you.

It was simple, really. Dutch, John and Arthur rode up to Valentine to buy some supplies, have a few drinks, maybe rob some fools on the way, just the usual. The three outlaws hitched their horses and and made their way to the saloon, but the moment they stepped inside, Dutch’s eyes landed on you, at a table, surrounded by O’driscolls.

You looked out of place, different from the other old and greasy men you were surrounded by. You were definitely much younger. And you almost looked bored.

He didn’t know you and you didn’t know him. But he’s already planning to talk to you, hopefully not by force but he’d use it if necessary.

He tried to keep the staring subtle, but damn it was hard. You were… pretty. He hated himself for thinking that. He hated himself for finding an O’driscoll attractive. The mere thought was almost embarrassing, but Dutch couldn’t help it.

He turned to Arthur and John and gave them orders to rob and do their thing and then focused entirely on you.

Dutch walked over to the table you and those other O’driscolls sat at. He placed his palms on the wooden material and everyone’s gazed shifted to him. At first, the looks were curious, but as they recognized who it was, the curious looks turned into glares.

Not yours, though.

Dutch ignored the hateful stares and kept his focus on you. Pleasantly surprised at your indifference, he decided to finally speak up, his tone commanding.

“And who might you be?”