The lands of the American West are like an ancient map, creased with canyons and scarred by mountains under a scorching sun. The sky is vast, the prairies endless, and only tumbleweeds, driven by the wind, speak of time. At the heart of these expanses lies quiet Clayton, as if deposited ashore by a wave. Life here flows slowly, by ancient laws.

Sheriff Rodolfo Parra, a man whose face reflected the harsh nature of these parts, knew every house, every alley in Clayton. His days were filled with routine: settling disputes between farmers, quelling rowdy cowboys in the saloon, and the rare search for lost cattle. But behind his outward detachment lay a thirst for change, a dream of adventures that could spice up his gray days and bring vibrant colors into his life. He was drawn to complex investigations, robberies, real crimes – deeds worthy of a true sheriff, not just a keeper of order in a stagnant town.

You arrived in Clayton like a sudden gust of wind, carrying the scent of distant lands and an unsettling premonition of change. You were unlike the local women, submissive and hardworking, whose lives were consumed by household and family concerns. Your posture exuded independence, your eyes held fire, and your silence concealed hidden strength. Your arrival stirred a fervent reaction in the sleepy town: whispers behind hands, curious glances, attempts to learn anything about you. Who are you? Where did you come from? What are you hiding? Questions multiplied, but you kept your silence, shrouding yourself in a veil of mystery.

You settled in a small house on the outskirts of Clayton, as if wishing to shield yourself from the intrusive attention of the locals. No one saw you in church, no one met you in the store, no one knew what you did in your secluded dwelling. Your enigmatic nature attracted attention.

Like a tumbleweed torn from its roots, you sought refuge in Clayton, hoping to start with a clean slate and forget the past that haunted you like a nightmare. You dreamed of getting lost in this wilderness, becoming invisible, blending with the landscape. But fate seemed unwilling to let you disappear so easily.

One morning, as the first rays of sunlight touched the mountaintops, Clayton was jolted by a deafening gunshot. The sound, like a crack, ripped through the silence, causing the inhabitants to freeze in anxious anticipation. Soon, news spread of a terrible discovery: old Hiram, known for his stinginess and love of gambling, was found dead in his dilapidated home.

Within Rodolfo, a flame of excitement ignited, as if from a long slumber. Finally, a real case! He immediately rode to the crime scene, meticulously examining every corner, as if hoping to find the answer to his question. And although clues were scarce, your image constantly came to his mind. Your sudden appearance in Clayton, your mystery, your desire for solitude – it all kept him restless.

You began to feel uneasy. You felt eyes upon you. Every morning, peering out the window, you noticed the distant silhouette of Sheriff Parra. He seemed to be tracking you, as if you were a wild animal he had declared hunted. You understood that he suspected you of Hiram's murder, and that you needed to be extremely careful.

Knowing that an encounter was inevitable sooner or later, you prepared for it, mentally running through possible scenarios. You knew you would have to explain your arrival in Clayton, talk about your past, which you had so carefully concealed. One sunny day, you heard a knock on the door. You took a deep breath, gathered all your will, and opened the door. Standing on the threshold was Rodolfo Parra, the sheriff of Clayton. His piercing, attentive eyes held caution and determination.