Chapter 1 :

Her bow and arrows. Or her knife. Anything. She had to reach something, anything could be a weapon. Crawling towards another stable, she tried to reach for the fork as soon as she saw it but a weight fell upon her back, stopping her in her tracks. A hot, alcoholic breath grazed on her neck, sending her shivers of disgust down her spine. Ignoring the pain in her thigh and the stickiness of her blood, she kept struggling.

-Where do you think you're going, savage? The bearded man asked, pulling at her hair to hold her in place.

Taking advantage of her small figure, she didn't wait a second more to shift underneath the man, raising her knee and hitting him where it would hurt. Her assailant rolled on his side, hissing in pain as she ran towards him, kicking his gun at a good distance from him and snatched his knife off of his belt before sticking it to his throat, a nasty glare settled on her face.

-Where do you think you're going now? She asked, her tone filled with sarcasm.

She held herself from slitting his throat right away. She knew the consequences. If she did it, people in Valentine wouldn't be too long to come to her ranch, joyful to finally end the half savage that lived a bit too close to their fine town. But the moment of hesitation revealed itself to be fatal. A violent wave of pain went from her thigh and spread through her entire body. But it was too late for her to realize that the man had stuck his finger exactly where the bullet he fired earlier had found it's way. Screaming in pain, she barely noticed that the man had tipped her off before her head hit violently the ground, darkening her vision for a moment.

-You fucking half-breed bitch! It's over now!

In the dim light, she hardly noticed a flash of steel being raised in the air. That was it. They would finally have had her. Closing her eyes, she waited for the moment the cold knife would pierce her chest and end all her suffering. But instead, the sound of a gun and a splash of blood brought her back to reality. Feeling the weight of that disgusting man pushing her onto ground made her jump and she struggled to get him off of her. But it wasn't necessary. A pair of hands threw the dead, drunken man away from her as another grabbed her shoulders and held her up. Shaking her head, she didn't take this as a victory too soon. Those men, whoever they were, could have bad intentions as well.

The first one she saw had a bow strapped to his back and as he stepped closer, she could get a good look at him. His dark skin matched his deep brown eyes and his black hair seemed to fall all the way down his back. He wasn't tall, but his build was still impressive and she knew he could knock off anyone if he wanted to.

Then she lifted her head up to look at the one that still held one of her shoulders. From where she was standing, she couldn't see much but she did notice his green eyes and his fair hair, half hidden underneath a hat. He was tall and lean, and she couldn't help but see him put his gun back in its holster. Se he fired the shot.

Suddenly very aware of the possible dangerousness of the two men, she took a step back, reaching down to the knife now lying on the ground before holding it up in her only defence.

-Who are you? She asked, trying to hide the shaking in her voice.

The bowman took a step towards her, a small smile on his lips. He side glanced at his companion before taking another step.

-I'm Charles. This is...

-We ain't here for this, Charles, now let's go. The other man cut off, turning on his heels, about to leave the barn before his friend caught his arm.

He whispered something to him, something she couldn't quite make out but she heard the word 'bleeding'. Shaking her head, she finally looked at the wound on her thigh. Slowly patting her raw flesh, she sighed in desperation. No exit wound. The damn bullet was still in there and the blood loss started to make her feel dizzy. Before she could realize anything the 'grumpy' guy was back in front of her, a piece of cloth between his hands. She tried to take a step back but he held her wrist, making her drop the knife to the ground. Crouching in front of her, he tightly wrapped the cloth around her thigh, just above the wound, probably a makeshift tourniquet, she thought.

-You'll be alright now, m'lady. He said in almost a groan.

Will she? She leaned on him as he wrapped an arm around her back to help her walk out of the barn. Once outside, her eyes instinctively found her dead horse, lying on the ground. At least this son of a bitch had the decency to kill him quickly. Holding back a tear as the man dragged her away from the ranch, his voice echoed in her head.

-You take her with you Charles.

-No, I'm not. Someone's got to finish our business here. So, you take her back. The named Charles said in a laugh.

She took a few more steps before finally finding the strength to talk again.

-Where are you taking me? She asked in almost a whisper.

The green-eyed man suddenly picked her up, placing her on the back of a grey horse, before hoisting himself up as well, sitting right behind her and grabbing the reins. Putting the horse in a slow trot, he let a few seconds pass before he answered.

-We're uh... We're in a gang with Charles, but we have someone who could take care of you at our camp. You'll be alright.

She wanted to thank him for his kindness, for not letting her get killed by some hillbilly trash or leaving her to bleed to death in her barn. But the word 'gang' stopped her in her tracks. Let's not get to hopeful now, she thought.

-You still haven't told me who you were. She said weakly instead.

-Arthur. Arthur Morgan.