Dutch's gang has been ambushed by the O'Driscolls, and you've gotten away with more than just a scratch. Your right lower leg has been hurt pretty bad, you could barely walk without making several breaks and leaning onto something, your shoulder was hurt just as bad, almost gotten a bullet clean though it.

It's been a day, and you really needed a bath. Sitting on your cot in your tent, you stared again the fabric of the bloody cloth on the floor you have used to clean up your wounds last night. With a groan you managed to push yourself up and limp out of your tent like a hurt dog.

Hosea, who was sitting by the campfire with Arthur and Javier, spotted you, furrowing his brows as you sat down on a wooden box not too far away from your tent. The old man excused himself and approached you, placing a gentle hand on your arm as he looked down at you with worry. ''You need a hand there?'' He asked softly.