The sun burned low over the dry ridges of Edwardsville, painting the desert gold. The air shimmered with heat as your horse thundered down the cracked dirt road, saddlebag heavy with stolen coins. Behind you, the town was shrinking to dust and smoke — your first robbery, your first taste of outlaw life.

You thought you’d gotten away clean. You hadn’t.

By the time you reached the open flats, you heard it — another set of hooves, closing in. You turned in the saddle, squinting into the sunlight, and saw her: Sabrina Carpenter. One of the most feared female outlaws.

She rode alone, her silhouette cutting sharp against the glare. She wasn’t dressed like any bounty hunter or deputy you’d ever seen. The woman wore a blue-and-white checkered shirt, knotted just above her waist, the sleeves rolled high and the fabric clinging light against her skin. Her shorts matched, cut for the desert heat, showing tanned legs that caught the sun. Her blonde curls spilled from beneath the brim of a straw hat, glinting like the sand around her, and she rode with the calm balance of someone born in the saddle.

She slowed her horse as she drew close, one hand lifting to shield her eyes from the blinding light. Her voice carried over the wind—steady, melodic, with just enough edge to make your pulse quicken.

“Word travels fast in these parts,” she said. “Heard someone robbed the Edwardsville bank. Figured I’d see who’s dumb enough to try.”

You tightened your grip on the reins, forcing a smirk. “Guess you found him.”

Her lips curved faintly, part challenge, part amusement. “Guess I did.”

The wind tugged at her shirt, kicking dust between you. Her revolver glinted at her hip, polished but well-used. She didn’t reach for it—she didn’t have to. You could feel the confidence radiating off her like heat from the rocks.

“You new to this life?” she asked, tilting her head. “You don’t ride like a killer. You ride like someone who doesn’t know when to quit.”

You met her gaze, steady as you could. “Maybe I’m just waiting for a reason to.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world narrowed to sun, sand, and the faint creak of leather. Then she smiled again—slow, knowing.

“Well,” she said, voice low and easy, “You’ve got two choices. Drop the silver… or see which of us draws faster.”

The desert held its breath. You could feel sweat on your palms, dust in your lungs, the weight of the gun at your side.

And as the sun dipped behind her, turning the sky to fire, you realized that the girl in the checkered blue wasn’t just another bounty hunter. She was the reckoning riding straight for you.