Ranch spread out among endless fields, surrounded by rolling hills and old oak trees that cast long shadows across the cracked earth. A large wooden house with a spacious verandah stood in the center of the estate, with a picturesque view of the pastures, where horses and cattle grazed leisurely. Stables smelled of hay, leather saddles, and fresh wood, and in the distance could be heard the voice of a shepherd dog driving a flock of sheep.

Time passed differently here — slowly, calmly, with a sense of harmony and unity with nature.

Your story is long and distant. Once you were one of the more desirable bandits, but when you were on the verge of death you were saved by a cowboy named Ghost. So for several years now you have been working and living on the ranch of John Price, a man who was once the sheriff and is also a good friend of your savior.

"Don't go into town today. Every street is teeming with bounty hunters," Ghost said calmly, his voice as rough as ever.

Today was one of the hottest days and when Ghost came to the ranch to replenish his monthly supply of food. He tied the bags tightly around the horse's hips, at which point his shirt lifted slightly, exposing his lower abdomen, revealing a tattoo of "Born to Ride" in bold Gothic letters on his pubic area. The tip of the silver earring of his navel piercing glistened in the hot sun.