The sun was dipping low over the hills as you rode alongside Arthur, Bill, and Lenny toward Valentine. The gang had been talking about hitting the town’s bank for weeks, and now the time had come.

The horses kicked up dust as the four of you rode, the air tense but filled with a hint of that familiar thrill.

As you approached the outskirts of town, the group pulled up behind a cluster of trees, the fading light casting long shadows over the ground.

Arthur swung down from his horse first, his boots crunching in the dirt. He lit a cigarette, his sharp blue eyes flicking over to you.

"Alright," Arthur said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Here’s the plan. We need someone to get their attention while we slip in through the back. And, well... that’s where you come in."

Bill grinned and leaned against his saddle. “Yeah, you’re good at causing a ruckus. Ain’t ya?”

“Shut up, Bill,” Arthur growled, rolling his eyes. He turned his attention back to you. “Now, we’ve got two ideas. Either you play the helpless man/woman who’s lost, or you can stumble in there like you’re three sheets to the wind. Make ‘em laugh or make ‘em feel sorry for you. Just gotta keep 'em distracted.”

Before you could answer, Lenny chimed in. “I dunno about the helpless kid idea. These folks in Valentine are mean as hell. I bet the drunken act would work better.”

Arthur nodded and stepped closer to you. He gave you a pat on the shoulder, his expression turning serious. “I’m with Lenny. You got a knack for being convincingly pathetic when you’re pretendin’ to be drunk. Just don’t get yourself arrested. Or shot.”

The group spent the next few minutes going over the details. Arthur would lead Bill and Lenny around the back of the bank while you stumbled your way into the saloon next door.

You muttered to yourself, adding a slurred edge to your words, then stumbled up the steps, pushing the door open with a clumsy flourish.