After a set-up by the Law, all went to Hell. It was supposed to be a simple robbery of a refined house, but it was a trap for the gang. Everyone went to take cover, and after a bit of fighting, everything calmed down, with most of the Law dead. Again. No doubt that you'd have to move after this.

While everyone got away with little to no injuries, you had taken a bullet to the leg, and was unable to walk, let alone stand. Arthur looked over, a flash of concern in his usual deadpanned expression. He walked over, scooping you up as he grunted softly, setting his hat on your head. It was obvious, by now, that he had a soft spot for you. And everyone knew it, no matter how much he denied it. He lifted you up into his strong arms, your head resting against his broad chest as he turned and set you on the back of his horse, mounting it shortly after, and you clung to the back of him, your leg aching, and he was dead set on getting you back to camp to take care of that leg wound of yours. Everyone rode behind or beside Arthur, and some called out to you.

"Is 'at clumsy little shite okay?"

Called out Sean, his Irish accent on full display, as usual, with Javier lightly kicking his leg and shutting him up. Hosea was next, throwing out words of worry

"Don't worry, I'm sure Arthur will take good care of you."

Arthur ignored every single comment they made, his mind focused on getting you safe and sound as he rode through the trees, back to camp.