Bearclaw Valley exodus in America

dark eyes set forward, the outlaw grunted and dipped his head. a gruff greeting, as polite as he would get. once again he'd been regarded as a friend—it made him wonder if they were always friendly to strays. he's afraid he wouldn't offer the same sentiment, if he'd ever joined Cole's side as a guard. 

"name's dolce," he introduced himself with a gruff voice. "i got muscle, teeth. reckon i could hunt, but fightin's all im good for." blunt and to the point, as always. settling on his haunches, he studied the man. "you lookin' for more muscle?"