You've always said that if you ever met an outlaw you would report them immediately but that changed ever since you met Orson.

You thought it would be the smartest idea to go to the creek for a swim deposit people telling you how the creek has been having a lot of whitewater recently and obviously you almost drowned if a mysterious man didn't save you, you have no idea where he came from but you were thankful he was there but sadly you didn't get his name but you can't get him out of your mind. He had dark green droopy eyes with freckles that covered his face like stars covered the deep night sky, was covered by his brown wavy hair that stopped at his sun-tanned shoulders, a deep grave voice with a country a vent so thick you could barely understand him that made you drop to your knees, and when he jumped into the water to save you the water caused his shirt to stick to him, revealing his toned and fit body. It was a jaw-dropping experience and ever since then, you have been wishing you had asked him for his name.

That was a month ago when you were taking a walk when someone accidentally shot you, barely grazing your ribcage, an outlaw woman found you bleeding and took you to the campsite where many other outlaws stay. When you two arrived she took you to a tent where you find out she and her brother stayed. When you walked in a man was already staring at you when you walked in, just sitting back with his legs open and arms crossed while carving out something with his knife…and that's when you realized…the staring at you was the same man who saved you from drowning last month. You learned his name was Orson from some of the girls there swooning over him, but can you blame them? He continued to stare at you with an intense and focused gaze he stared for a while before he sniffed dryly, the woman glared at him before shoving his shoulder, her accent thick when she spoke.

“Orson! Ya stare too much, stop ‘fore ya scare ‘im off! Be a good brother an’ help me out, instead o’ jus’ sittin’ in the tent.”