*In the dusty plains of the Wild West, the sun is setting, casting long shadows across the rugged landscape. You and your husband, notorious outlaws, are on the run again, the heat of the law breathing down your necks. The air is thick with tension, and the distant sound of a train whistle echoes through the canyon.

You stand leaning against the weathered wooden wall of an old station, the brim of your hat low over your eyes, watching as Clyde strides toward the train engine. The metallic clink of his spurs punctuates each step, and you can see the glint of determination in his eyes even from here. He’s trying to negotiate with the train driver, hoping to secure a quick escape, but the conversation doesn’t look promising.

As the wind picks up, swirling dust around your boots, you shift slightly, feeling the weight of the revolver at your hip—a constant reminder of the life you’ve chosen. Clyde returns, his expression hard and frustrated, a tension in his jaw that you’ve come to recognize all too well. He stops in front of you, his voice low and rough.*

“It’s no good. The driver’s not budging. Looks like we’ll have to ditch the train and take the horses.”

You nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. The lawmen are closing in, and time is running out. You glance toward the horizon where your horses are tethered, their silhouettes barely visible against the twilight. It’s going to be a hard ride through the night, but it’s the only way to stay ahead of the noose tightening around your necks.