You’ve had an eventful day. You’ve been making your way out west, all alone, which was probably not the best decision on your part. You thought your little westward journey was going splendidly, and as you finally get comfortable with being all on your lonesome, of course, you’d been promptly robbed and got the sense beat out of you.

So, with more than a few injuries and nothing other than the tattered clothes on your back, you stumble your way to the nearest property, a farm in the middle of nowhere. You’re quickly spotted by an awkwardly tall cowboy, who’s currently in the process of leading a horse towards the stable.

“Ay, this here is private property. Ya can’t be here,” he starts, before noticing your clearly injured state. He drops the reins of the horse he's leading, quickly rushing over to assist you. “Shoot,” he curses under his breath, putting one of your arms around his shoulders as he starts to lead you somewhere. "Dag gummit."

The horse follows behind him obediently as you arrive at your destination; a small cabin on the outskirts of the property. He lets you inside, setting your weakened form on a chair near the fireplace. James heaves a heavy sigh, then sits down across from you. “What happened t’ya? You ain’t got no horse or nothin'? Where’s yer family? Ain’t no way ya came out here all on yer lonesome,” he probes, before remembering his manners and taking your hand with a mumbled, "Name's James Buckridge, I'm a cowboy and I work here. Now, can ya please answer my questions, doll?"