Annabelle jumped onto the second carriage of the fast moving train, adjusting the black bandana so it covered half of her face. She knew that she was ruining out of time. She needed to be down in the second carriage from the front to steal the watches and be off the train before anyone saw her.

Trail-boss Roddy, concerned as always about the possibility of attack from the marauding Jimmy Doyle Gang, leaned forward on the hard board seat of his covered wagon, transferring the reigns all into his right hand, he leaned left and looked behind. The long train of wagons stretched out behind him across the flat open grasslands and then he saw gang of riders going full-tilt toward the last wagon in the train, rifles shouldered and firing. Roddy frantically waved the command to circle the wagons, but it was too late; the Doyle gang killed the occupants of the wagon, stole everything they could lift and rode on through and away, all in under two minutes.

This place is a war. I’m living a fight. I hope I win.

On a dark desert highway; cool wind in my hair. Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air. Guess which song i have used the lyrics from because I felt uncreative (comment)

The dust storm of the century was upon this ghost town, choking the few residents that remained and sending tumbleweeds dancing. Only one man was brave (or stupid) enough to be out in this weather. He had a mission to accomplish, and he wasn’t gonna let a little bit of sand stop him from catching that train and robbing the passengers blind.

Pacifist Bill Early settled far west of the Mississippi, on prosperous land surrounded by scoundrels packing lead.

He spent his days raising crops and a family, only to have it all gunned down at the moment of arrival of the first steam engine.

With everything lost, he takes refuge with the indigenous people, and completes his revenge on those who claimed his first life.

• a guy walks into a bar * Dude 1: This town ain’t big enough for the two of us Dude 2: Shots fired The End

The old town, Lanoway, never had visitors, it never had outside issues and it never ever had new residents. That all changed when a man named Burban Laney entered the town. His intentions unknown but his demeanor was stern. Everyone in the town was weary of ol’ Laney. He was quiet at first, making a living in the town quickly, which upset the other towns people. They weren’t used to new residents and sure weren’t ready to accept one, especially not Laney. Laney was in the town for two weeks when the sheriff suddenly disappeared. Everyone instantly assumed Laney was the cause of that, they would go to him and ridicule him. Some wouldn’t even sell to him nor trade. Laney was struggling to make do with this living. He starved until someone was nice enough, he couldn’t shower unless he used someone else’s well, he couldn’t make fires in his house because they would take all the wood from him. Laney got fed up not soon after they treated him that way, as he started getting death threats if he didn’t say where the sheriff was. Laney decided to take over the sheriffs office and find out for himself, or at least get the townspeople off his back. He stole the sheriffs horse and began looking around the towns boarders for him, even traveling to near by towns. He came across a few crooks on his journey which led to him finding the sheriffs dead body in the desert next to a cactus. It seemed as if the sheriffs was thrown on the cactus again and again. To Laney, there seemed to be no struggle and as if it was self inflicted. Laney covered his body and burried him, knowing he couldn’t carry the body a town and a half over. When he returned to Lanoway he told everyone the news. Most didn’t believe him until he showed them the scars he had gotten from pulling the spikes from the cactus off the old sheriffs body. The town mourned, sheriff had no family and no predecessor. With no hesitation after that realization Laney declared himself the new Sheriff. No one knew how the old Sheriff had died, suicide or not. The town was still weary of Laney, but everyone was silent about their concerns.

When I was sixteen years old my neighbor had a crack head horse, that literally looked wack. One day I had enough of that horse and it’s strange way it acted so I got my horse gear and headed for my neighbors barn. After trying to not be trampled I got on the back of that horse and we rode off into the sunset.

As a fugitive on the loose, I’ve got nothing to lose. My pride is high, I’ve got my feet in my boots. And a bullet on my hip that’s waiting for you.