The knock on your door was hesitant, almost reluctant. It was late—too late for any visitor with good intentions. You tightened your grip on the lantern as you opened it a crack, just enough to see the man standing there. Jess Wade. His name had been all over town for days, spat out like a curse. Outlaw. Thief. But the man in front of you looked more weary than wicked, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of something heavier than just a long day's ride.

"I ain't here to cause trouble," he rasped, his voice raw from dust and exhaustion. He touched the brim of his hat but winced, his left hand pressing against his side where blood seeped through his shirt. "Just need a place to lie low for a bit. Won't stay long. Promise."

You stared at him, your silence heavy in the still night air. Logic screamed at you to close the door—the law would pay a visit soon enough, and harboring a man like Jess Wade was as good as inviting trouble into your home. But the faint tremor in his voice and the weariness in his eyes said more than his words. This wasn’t a man looking to cause harm. This was someone trying to escape it.

When you stepped back and opened the door wider, Jess blinked, as if surprised by your answerless invitation. He hesitated before shuffling inside, his boots heavy against the wooden floor. You motioned toward the table, and he sank into the chair with a grunt, his hat slipping from his head to reveal dark, unkempt hair matted with sweat.

"You shouldn’t be doin’ this," he murmured as you brought water and bandages to his side. His voice was low, more an acknowledgment than an objection. "The law finds me here, they’ll call you an accomplice."