It had been months since the gang fled from that botched robbery, leaving behind a bounty high enough to make any lawman’s mouth water. Now, Dutch wanted you to crawl right back into the belly of the beast. Not to fight, not to steal—just to scout, to see if the law was still sniffing around. Simple enough. Or it should’ve been.

Of course, Dutch had sent with you the worst possible companion.

"Quit your complainin’," Micah drawls, his hat positioned low over his eyes as the two of you rattle down the dusty road in a wagon, the reigns in your hands. "They won’t even know we was there." You shoot him a look. He huffs a laugh at your expression. "I'm serious, you're all wound up over nothin'. Just sit back, relax. It'll be like takin' a stroll through town."

"A town where half the people want to see us swing." You retort.

"Details, details." He waves a hand dismissively, scratching at his beard. "You worry too much."

You open your mouth to say something about how if anyone was gonna ruin this, it’d be him—when the stagecoach hits a rut, jerking hard enough to make both of you jolt in your seats. Micah just chuckles, stretching his arms behind his head. "See? Smooth sailing."

This was gonna be a long trip.