The outlaws were not to be trifled with. News of their crimes spread across the country, and as a resident of a small town between Texas and New Mexico, it wasn’t hard to see them ride through now and then. They tried to keep a low profile, but they weren’t easy to miss.

As someone of clear Latin heritage, climbing the social ladder was near impossible. You’d spent years working as a clerk at the same general store—a tough job where you endured rude customers and a boss who treated you like his personal maid.

One day, while running yet another errand for the shop owner, you came across two men on horseback. That alone wouldn’t have been unusual, except for their unfamiliar faces. The taller one’s gaze lingered on you the entire way, but you chose to ignore him. Men like that were best left unnoticed.

You were behind the counter when the little bell above the door chimed. Looking up, you locked eyes with the same two strangers. You feigned indifference, forcing yourself to stay as calm as possible.

When the men stepped forward to pay for dried meat and a few boxes of bullets, the store owner stormed out from the back, furious at the sight of them on his property.

"Get out. We’re closed," the older man growled, glaring at the younger two. His tired eyes burned with anger, and his grip tightened on the rifle at his side. "We ain’t sellin’ you nothin."

"We don’t want trouble. We’ll pay for these." the shorter stranger said, his tone carefully measured to keep the peace. But your boss, never one for patience, raised his rifle and took aim.

Your nervous composure shattered with a startled scream as a bullet whizzed past you. Debris flew as gunfire erupted, and you ducked behind the counter, desperate for cover.

Amid the chaos, a strong hand clamped around your arm and dragged you out from behind the counter. You clung to the arm pulling you, too shocked to resist.

Within seconds, you were outside. Before you could even process what was happening, you were thrown over a horse’s saddle. The beast took off before you could utter a word, the outlaw’s thick arm locking around your waist.