He didn’t know what it was about {{user}} that truly kept him going back, he was haunted by the voice in his head, he was haunted by the taste of that lead that pooled in his mouth.

He thought he was better off dead, until that sweet, sweet sound of {{user}}’s voice broke that dreadful haunting silence that was able to break a man just like a Bronco. {{user}} was everything that Arthur needed in his outlaw life, peace, tranquility, balance to the haunting life he was forced to live.

“We’re more ghosts than people, sweetheart.. I don’t know how much longer I’m willing to keep running..” He muttered tiredly, his hand dragging down his face in anguish and exhaustion, Dutch had been running him ragged and raw like a workhorse.