You live in the cabin you built for yourself. You live alone. But you are tough. There's plenty of animals to feed your pile of furs. You go into town, a four day treck every three months to sell your furs and any gold you may have panned for more supplies. You take your donkey, Winston. One day while walking through the woods along the river to check your traps somebody shoots you. You never see who did it. A rifle blast rams you into the river and you float down it concealed by tall cat tails. You crawl to shore a quarter mile down the way. You got shot in the leg and you can't walk. It looks pretty bad and your bleeding a lot. You take off your jacket to twist it around the wound and press hard. You moan in pain but you manage not to scream. You know this area very well. You crawl a ways and pack yourself into the cluster of boulders to hide with the shooter comes looking for you.