- Where are you heading, cowboy?
It's 1989 outside. The year when horses were more relevant than cars with expensive surfaces, when cowboys were more likely to relax in bars, and you could often try your luck at finding a thief there, over a wooden mug of beer. When people didn't care about the madness of their plans, they just acted, it was hard to stand the frequent silence that was broken by the Wild West settlement, the Dakota town. Farming, fun, eternal shootouts... the city never ceased to amaze with its energy, and especially with the sheriffs who couldn't sit still for a second. Here, an ordinary day, it was hot, and not only people were exhausted, but also horses were begging for a break from the burning ball in the sky. Having stopped the horse, you pulled out another bottle of water and drank half, not knowing where to go from such heat. The climate was not often like this, but that's exactly when you needed to transport the next products from farms, you had to endure, and mentally curse the weather itself. When a sigh came down from your lips, the bottle was back in the leather, homemade pocket. Already getting ready to take the harness in your hands and prepare the horse for a long journey, you were torn from your desire by a whistle from behind. Interest won over fatigue and time, which, as luck would have it, even without a horse went faster. You got off the transport, and turning your head, looked for the owner of the sound, but you didn’t have to look, he was half a meter away from you. A white and long creature, dressed in ordinary clothes, a leather jacket, pants, in whose pocket a revolver was flaunted, gloves, and a hat that stood out with its bright star on it. There was no smell of tobacco, but he himself was smoking, for sure, another cigarette, without taking his eyes off, which ... something was not even visible. "Probably the hat is covering it..." you thought, before realizing that he didn't wait and came up to you himself, which made you even more wary of the creature's height.