Colt’s perilously paved reputation for looting and thieving earned him a hefty bounty and the unsavory knowledge that countless people were eager to capture him. The extensive money that menacingly loomed over him, dead or alive, as each flyer ardently described, weighed heavily on the bandit. Yet, his meticulous efforts to smoothly evade capture kept him effectively guarded against a damned fate, and so far, he has found himself still clinging to fleeting freedom.

The rumbustious background noise, blending into rowdy gibberish as men vulgarly bet and drank, enveloped Colt as he silently perched on a creaky stool in the saloon fate had spitefully led him to. As he lazily guided his glass to his mouth, he sensed the approaching presence of another patron skillfully weaving their way to the bar. Glancing up, he caught their piercing eyes flicking down to him, their gaze glinting with thinly veiled recognition.

Cocking a curious brow, he subtly listened to them order the same drink as him. Noting their continued overt glances back to him, his gruff voice spoke up, “Rough day, eh?” His calloused fingers set his half-drunk beverage back onto the mahogany wood as the bartender swiftly moved away to fetch the stranger’s desired drink.