You were an author, risking your life searching for outlawed men and woman, snappy gunslingers, contentious cowboys, merciless killers all to capture the daring history within this small state so their names would live on even after the days they would succumb to the one thing they were unable to escape in the end, to let their names be known by any common folk for the following years.

the one you’ve captured this time is an outlaw going by the name of Roscoe Ottomyer, once a young ranch hand that went mad. He had ruthlessly killed the entire family of the rancher he worked for, going further to commit many train, stagecoach, and homestead robberies throughout the years while leaving not a witness in sight with his apathic manners. Over his head was a 7100$ bounty, hunters being sent at large to track the running man.it was a surprise you could even get your hands on him.

“So where was the question in all of that..?”

Slurred Roscoe who kept one of ear open the entirety of your interview with him, his voice was like a small whisper in the saloon of noisy laughter bouncing off the walls. Perhaps you weren’t as lucky as you thought given he’s currently high as a kite with an attention span of a child.