   Crisp fresh air filled the outlawâs lungs as he sat atop his grazing steed, inhaling deeply as his eyes slid shut for a moment. An eagle cried out overhead, warning him to be vigilante as it circled the tree tops in search of prey. Opening his eyes he watched the avian for a moment before it disappeared behind a tall ridge. Supplies had run dangerously low, forcing Dean to leave the tranquil yet treacherous wilds and head to the nearest town. It wasnât that he hated civilization, in fact, he found it fairly beneficial in most situations but he couldnât lie and say it didnât make him a bit anxious. Wanted dead or alive posters were peppered around the western side of the country and he was never certain which towns had them. It was always a gamble on if there were any or if anyone dared to try him.Â
   On occasion, heâd entered a few towns where his posters were hung but due to his chivalrous ways and willingness to break up bar fights most were willing to turn a blind eye. His buckskin mustang, Trigger, snorted irritably as he gobbled up the last patch of wild flowers in the surrounding area. He stomped his hoof before lifting his head, snorting once more to get his riderâs attention. laughing, Dean gave the equine a few pats.Â
      âAlright, alright. Letâs go then,â he gripped the reins and steered the horse toward an old path beginning to become overgrown with foliage that led down the hill to a road they could follow into the town. As soon as the town came into view, Trigger decided he had reached his daily steps for the day and wouldnât be moved without the proper motivation. âAww, come on, boy!â Dean groaned at the stubbornness of his horse before sliding off the saddle. He walked around to face the stallion who merely turned his head, pretending not to see his distressed owner.Â
      âI ainât got any treats. You decided tâ sneak intâ my pack last night anâ eat the rest ofâm. Weâre almost tâ town. Iâll buy ya some more when we get there,â he bargained, watching as the stallion turned his head the other way, sighing loudly.
   Dean was about to unleash a string of curses when he spotted someone heading their way. Bothering strangers wasnât something he enjoyed doing but if he didnât get his hardheaded horse something to snack on heâd either be stuck on the side of the road for another day or would have to hoof it to town and back. âPardon me sir!â he called out, holding up his hands to show he held no ill intent -- couldnât be too careful these days. âI rightly hate tâ bother ya but Iâve got the worldâs most stubborn food motivated horse in existence and I ran out of his treats. I donât suppose ya might have an oat cake or carrot on ya. I can pay ya for it.â He gestured to his horse before dropping his hands, leaving them in plain view.
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