Dutch's dark brown eyes were cast in shadow by the rim of his hat, a steady hand resting on the iron at his slim hip. His leather boots worn to the raw hide, each step taken with them sounding another jangle of his spurs. He was lean as a stud, yet his limbs were thick as tree trunks and his chest was wide as a whiskey barrel. He had it all, the strength, the speed, and words coated in honey with that low warm lilt.

To some, Jackson was a rogue, always getting in fights or shootouts, causing trouble. To others, Jackson was a notorious outlaw to be feared, no better than a snake with that cunning grin. However, to the pretty folk he'd crossed passed with, he was just Dutch- a cowboy casa nova, in for the ride.

An arrogant smile crossed his handsome face and his head cocked so slightly to the side.

"What can I do you for?"