Bitterroot Valley Enter, Pursued by a Memory

looking to meet some other Great Sky kiddos! tag for reference/mention

Barrett woke early, before sun had kissed the sky, well before dawn—when @Sega had called for their hunt. The outlaw moved quickly this day, towards the clearing where the drying racks stood, their pelts slung over them, drying. He viewed them carefully. Paid careful note to the precision in which they had been crafted. Curious as to who had managed to accomplish the quiet beauty that laid within the handiwork.
So Barrett drank in the quiet scents of the valley. There were seven others, he knew. And in his heart of hearts, he wanted to know them. Not to replace the gang he had left behind, but, if anything, to remind himself of it. To know the feeling of family once more, though he did not wear such warmth upon his face, nor within his stature. He stood straight, tall, with a gaze hard as stone, brows furrowed on instinct.
Callahan, he reminded himself, was his name for these people. Not entirely as a lie, but, a method in which he knew to protect himself. Careful ever-so.

And—though, surely no one would be up this early—should he see someone, he would call a Mornin', and nod his head, somewhat gentleman-like in his approach.
Now all he needed was a cowboy-hat to tip.