The sweet breeze of the mountains swept through the small town of country folk, gently rattling the decrepit wooden swinging doors of multiple businesses.

It was quiet — not threateningly silent, as the moo or chirps of chickens occasionally echoed, accompanied by the frequent burst of laughter from folks playing cards together and laughing.

A few relaxed in the sun, others continued to work on their farms and in their barns — though, the day always ended in a drink-filled get together at the saloon.

Not all was always calm; a few were drawn to a life of crime, always on the run, galloping after trains and resting in the middle of nowhere, horses by their sides.

The heat struck, sandy area around the town was deserted, owned by the wild creatures, natural elements, and said criminals.