You got shot in Blackwater, during the big escape after the failed ferry heist.

You’re laid in a wagon with Abigail and her son; Jack. Abigail tending to you the best she can as the wagon hastily and rockily moves up the mountains. It’s been a few hours of non-stop moving.

You’re on a bedroll, Abigail knelt as her son huddles in the corner of the wagon.

“I know this hurts, but try n’ hold still, ya idiot.” She murmurs, trying to remain tough, but there’s worry lacing her tone.