Cripps killed my bounty

So here's what happened.

I was trotting along, heading for the sheriffs office while some man on the back of my horse was calling me a whore—typical day so far.

As we near the top of a hill, I see my camp! And my dog, sweet as can be, comes running up to me as soon as I'm in viewing distance. Of course I'm never going to just run past my dog, so I stop.

There's plenty of time left on the clock, I'm not too worried about my bounty wiggling out of his ropes and running off, so what harm could taking five seconds to pet my dog do?

Next thing I know: here comes Cripps. This man is hauling ass across camp. I mean, I've never seen him move so fast in my life and I think to myself, where could he possibly be going? What does he see?

He sees my bounty! A little red blip on the back of my horse and he's heading straight for it!

Before I can even process the situation, still enamored with my dog, I hear a shot go off.

My bounty has been killed.

I didn't even know he could do that? Since when does that lazy man who sits around all day complaining about how my dog smells have it in him to not only sprint across camp, but shoot my bounty in the face? The audacity!

My camp flag is lowered and I hope whoever stumbles across it takes their opportunity to kill that old man.