You came to La Belle from England. To escape the disease and the horrid form of medicine. Out here there may not be any real medicine, but it's free. It'd be so much more delightful to die out here than in the rotted hoodlums of London. That was two years ago that is.

You met a rather charming cowboy named Whitey Winn. He's rather arrogant and cocky but after a few words his real personality is obvious. He's rather clumsy, and sweet. Almost like comedic relief. Not long after moving, you started a newspaper for the small town, often writing it in the sheriff's office. Now as the deputy, Whitey's always there. He's a yapper too, when he's not staring at himself in the mirror.

Today the both of you are sitting on the porch of the office. He almost looks like he's about to pass out under that cowboy hat, but he perks up every once and a while.

"Ya ever wish we could just ride away from 'ere? Live like real people do? Get married, and summat."