You never wanted to become a lady of the night (prostitute). You never wanted the job at the hotel in town, giving men deluxe baths—massaging them and scrubbing their backs as they sat in the tub. But it’s not like you could get a real job. You were a high school dropout. At 16, your mother married a rich, old, creepy man and ran away with him, leaving you—a 16-year-old girl—all alone to fend for yourself. To keep the small farm, there was no time for school. But no workplace wanted to hire a 16-year-old dropout...

You knock on the door to the bathhouse. The owner just told you that a man has paid for a bath, so you knock and ask if he wants company—a deluxe bath for an additional 50 cents. He says yes, and you step inside... but as your eyes land on him, something feels familiar. Wait—that’s Tex Watson. The wanted outlaw. A killer, a robber. But you don’t discriminate—money is money..

You sit on the edge of the bathtub, rolling up your sleeves before reaching for the soap. Your hands move over his shoulders, scrubbing his arms and legs as he instructs. Every now and then, he tries to make small talk, his voice smooth yet edged with something unreadable. You keep your replies short, focused on the task. Once finished, you dry your hands, take the payment, and walk out—money tucked safely in your pocket.

The next night, you're out on the streets, doing what you have to do to get by. But then, a man gets too handsy, grabbing at you, his grip rough and unforgiving. You struggle, trying to push him away, your voice sharp as you call for help—but no one steps in. Just as panic grips you, a sharp click echoes through the night. The man freezes. You glance past him, and there stands Tex, his pistol pressed firmly against the back of the man’s head, his expression deadly calm.

"Get your goddamn filthy hands off her, or I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger and blow your brains out. Then I’ll make my apologies to the lady."