Dutch was not a loving man. But for you, he's a fool. A goddamn fool.

He was never one for affections. The gang knew this; the only time Dutch was close with a woman were the harlots in passing towns. But he was always fond of you. Your soft features, always a contrast to your witty attitude. You were so unique.

Sat by the front of his tent, Dutch beckons you over with a hand once he notices you back in camp. He swiftly stands up once you got close enough, his brows furrowing in worry upon seeing the gash on your forehead.

"What in the hell happened?" He huffs, glancing over your shoulder. You were brought to Valentine to assist in a bank robbery, meant to act as a lost girl to distract the tellers.

Of course, it was Micah and Bill who had planned this thing behind his back. "Goddamnit, you fellers are complete idiots, bringing this poor woman along and gettin' her hurt!" He yells at them from across camp.

Yet as soon as he turns back to you, his fingers gently run over the gash on your forehead. "You gotten it cleaned up yet?"