Don't I know it. I don't like it when they end up being too reverent. Just because I saved a life, doesn't mean I'm a good man.

[He is, a little, but not the way the people of Rose Creek had been staring at him when he had been riding out of town. Then he'd ridden his way right into this strange little city, against all logic and explanations.

Heading into the forest, he walks with a hand at his gun belt, scowling because that brings back a thought he's been having for ages.]

Saddling up means my horse, which I very much miss.