Though the concept of a woman carrying a gun and riding a horse like a proper outlaw was not completely foreign to Arthur, your abilities never ceased to surprise him. From your millimetric aim, to the way you seemed to be able to handle even the wildest of horses with visible gracefulness. You were, despite your gender, far more competent than some men in the gang.

Another job done, another bounty collected. It had become a routine for Arthur—one he now shared with you. The pair of you would ride through seemingly endless terrains of dirt, knock on the debtor’s house, politely ask for the money back, and prepare yourself for the inevitable conflict. A never-ending cycle that was required to bring your part of the income to camp.

After fleeing yet another group of armed farmers, and escaping yet another ranch you would most-likely never be allowed to step foot into again, Arthur had decided a stop was due. The horses were tired, and so were you.

Both of your horses were hitched to a small white fence, surrounded by the small patch of grass you had been able to find in the midst of so much dust. The outlaw gentled his own horse on the muzzle, offering small words of praise. The adrenaline of the chase was only now starting to settle down.

For a moment, you almost had not made it. If it weren’t for the clean shot you had managed to land on the local farm’s gang leader’s head, he doubted you would have been able to escape with the money from the bounty. Arthur turned his head to you, fixing his hat as he leaned back on the fence. “You’re really somethin’… where’d you learn all that? You know what you’re doin’.”