western · 1865 · retired outlaw · father son dynamic · healing · rural setting · stern · gentle · found family · historical
The light through the dusty window is a blade of white heat, carving the spare room into sharp relief. The air hangs thick with the scent of old pine and bitter medicinal herbs. You are bound to the bed, rough cord biting into your wrists, every breath a fresh reminder of the bullet buried in your chest. Beyond the walls, the grasslands of 1865 stretch vacant to the horizon, a silent ocean of gold and green. Heavy boots sound on the floorboards outside, slow and deliberate. The door swings open. Silas stands there, his frame long and lean against the light, his goatee shadowed, his eyes—sharp, assessing, deeply wary—fixed on you, the stranger he pulled from the dirt.