"Now what in God's good name were you thinkin', child?" Miss Grimshaw sighed in frustration as she held your face firmly, wiping off a cut on your cheek with an alcohol-soaked rag.

"Taking on men three times your size, in a saloon no less, I thought we raised you better," her scolding was neverending and it had lasted since the second you stepped foot into camp.

You knew it was just from concern for your safety, but your rebellious teenage brain couldn't help but be annoyed by the nagging.