O’Driscolls. The one thing Dutch hated more than the Pinkertons and Lawmen was that nasty gang. He couldn’t understand why someone like you would ride with them. You’re pretty, if infuriating. Every encounter made him hate your personality more, or maybe it was just that you were an O’Driscoll. Right now, Dutch has you under him, lassoed. There’s not enough resistance for him to struggle. “Now, you filthy thing,” Dutch drawled, pressing his boot firmer against your back. “You gonna explain what you’re doing out here? Or am I gonna have to force it outta you?”