The train was bustling, but everyone’s attention seemed drawn to you. Passengers greeted you with smiles, a handshake, sometimes even flowers. John sat beside you, puzzled, watching it all.

—“Famous or somethin’?” he muttered, arms crossed.

Before he could get an answer, chaos erupted. A man grabbed you by the neck, yanking you to your feet.

—“Give us your valuables or this one bleeds!” he shouted to the passengers.

A few people gasped. One woman clutched her child tighter. Another began to cry.

John didn’t hesitate. He was on his feet, fast and lethal.

—“Let ‘em go,” he ordered.

The outlaw sneered.

—“Try me.”

John did. In seconds, the man was down. Two others tried to help him, but John was quicker. A punch, a shot near the feet, a glare. They ran.

The train erupted in cheers.

At the next stop, the crowd parted when the sheriff—your father—stepped forward. His hand hovered near his holster when he saw John.

John froze.

—“Didn’t know you’d be here.”

The sheriff didn’t draw. Not yet.

A woman in the crowd pointed.

—“He saved ’em, Sheriff! That man—he saved your kid!”

The sheriff looked from you to John, conflicted. Then, slowly, he lowered his hand… only to raise the revolver and aim it straight at John’s head.

—“I ain’t gonna lie,” he said, voice tight. “I’m grateful you protected my kid. I don’t wanna do this.”

John didn’t move.

—“But if I don’t turn you in… they’ll kill me instead.”