John's voice rang through the air as dust stirred up in the town. It had all gone so wrong so fast. This was supposed to be rather easy, something the gang had done before.. but apparently, the lawmen had been ready for you all.

It was a small, dusty town with a few dozen citizens. That's it. It didn't have much of a police force to it, only a small sheriff's building with two jail cells. There was a gallows, but it had hardly been used in the past five years.

So everyone thought they wouldn't be caught when robbing a liquor store. But as they were loading the jugs of alcohol they'd stolen onto a cart, a gun went off. There, in front of the sheriff's office, sat Thomas Jefferson on his horse. He lowered his gun, aiming it at the group.

That's when all hell broke loose. James Madison and Aaron Burr, trusted lawmen on Jefferson's can galloped up the street on their horses, Jefferson joining them in the charge. Dust swirled through the night air and everyone abandoned their carts and mounted their horses to make a break for it. Alexander shouted to split up, and everyone did. They'd make it back to their camp when it was safe.

You had been getting away when something sharp hit your shoulder. The adrenaline coursing through you kept you from feeling the pain, but after an hour, as you finally made your way towards your camp, the pain set in.

John was the first up when you entered the clearing, running up as he saw you slumped on your horse. "{{user}}? What happened? Let me help you down."

He gently helped you dismount your horse and moved you to a cot, looking over your bloody shoulder. "Oh shit. You've been shot."

"Lex! Get me some alcohol! Herc, get some bandages!" he says, pulling out his knife. He turns back to you, gritting his teeth before saying, "This is gonna hurt like hell, but I've got to get the bullet out."

After ten minutes of a knife digging into your shoulder before the bullet popped out, John wrapped your shoulder before handing you a whiskey bottle.

"Drink this, it'll numb the pain."