Strapping on his boots, tightening the bandana around his neck, applying his belt, placing on his hat. The Boy woke up to a bright sunny day. As it always was, with the rare occasions of a cloudy day, even once in a blue moon rainfalls. With a stretch, he grabbed his guns. Slinging his rifle over his back and holstering his pistol. Last night he had a strange dream. At a train station with two other men, he waited for the train to arrive. He sighted a fly buzzing about, avoiding his attempts at swatting it away. The sounds of a distant whistle drew his attention to the left, a billowing cloud of black smoke arose into the sky as the train came closer and closer to the station.

The other two men he was with nodded to him, he unknowingly nodded back. The Iron Horse of the west finally halted with the piercing shriek of it's brakes echoing into the empty nothingness of the dream. He and the two other men watched closely as a young girl about his age walked off of one of the passenger cars. The dream ended with the image of the girl staring at him with an intense flair, before her face was decorated with a smile.

Leaving a tip for the owner, he exited his room to head over to his horse which he had stored into the stable the night before. Squinting his eyes a little from the bright morning sun, he took a stroll down the street to the stable. Encountering some citizens of the town along the way, most of whom just acknowledged him with a greeting.

"Morning." The stable owner said. "You leaving?"

"Yep, new job offer." The boy responded. "Security."

"Well, good luck with your endeavours kid." The man gave the boy a thumbs up as he saddled onto his horse.

"Hyah!" He cried out as Charger thundered out of the stable, and into the empty wastelands. Towards wherever this, Little Valley was.

*****

Someone who visited Little Valley approximately seven years ago would arrive at an almost unrecognizable location.

Three metre high walls surrounded the wooden buildings of the little town, preventing the employed inhabitants from leaving. A new train station meant for transporting goods in and out of the town. Armed gunmen from the small, but deadly Edwards Gang patrolled the streets, looking for any signs of revolt among the populace. Men, women and on rare but unfortunate occasions, children were forced to work in the nearby gold mine which was discovered by Little Valley's own civilians.

The pioneer for this travesty was none other than the  mining tycoon, Renee Haymond

Having smelled the scent of money from a little bird, combined with a sudden shortage of rare minerals in his company's mines gave him the resolve he needed for such a move against public freedom. Due to most of his mines going dry, Haymond had grown frustrated with the lack of monetary growth his company was experiencing. Having lost its credibility with the first-class and being unable to pay his employed miners their wages. His greed grew to insatiable lengths, supplemented only by dreams of future earnings.

Thus, when rumor had spread that a large deposit of gold and possibly other precious gems had been discovered near the town of Little Valley. His hungry gaze fell on the unfortunate people who inhabited the area. Along with the mayor of the town who had just refused to cooperate with him in a corporate seizure of what he saw as rightfully belonging to those that discovered it in the first place. It was a question with a simple, yet brutal answer that Renee took with little hesitation. His first choice was a notorious and deadly five-man gang led by the ruthless Eugene Timothy Edwards, who gladly took the deal as he found out the possible extent of the amount of gold and jewels found in the area. Now Edwards served as the town's brutal sheriff, carrying out his master's orders. As well as abusing the power he had over others to disgusting lengths.

A man is escorted through the streets of the town, bound and kicked to speed up by Grayson and Thomas.

"Please, you must understand. I have nothing." The man pleaded, his eyes displayed signs of fear and .

"Then nothing of value will be lost." Thomas replied. "Larry, you stole minerals, you know how things are done around here."

The two gang members escort him to a raised platform, with a closed hatch and a sinister sling of rope hanging overhead. Some other people who are on break from the gold mines could only watch in solemn sadness as the thief was led up the stairs of the gallows. Eugene was already waiting beside the lever to the hatch, smoking a cigar and leaning against one of the poles supporting the nooses.

"Grayson, tie this man up will you?" He urges, taking another puff of his cigar.

The mute gang member nodded, wrapping the hangman's knot around his neck. Tightening it as Thomas looked around for anyone seeking to attempt and rescue the condemned man.

"Any last words?" Asked Thomas, a sadistic smile creeped it's way across his face.

The man stayed silent, Eugene shrugged as he reached for the lever.

"Nothing but a bunch'a cowards with guns." He quickly said out loud, as the gang's leader released the trapdoor. The man fell right through, but the drop wasn't enough to completely snap his neck. The three gunmen began to hear violent choking noises coming from the opening in the wooden floor.

Thomas began to head down the stairs, but was stopped by Grayson. He shook his head slowly at him.

"No mercy for thieves." Eugene said, dropping his finished cigar onto the floor. Snuffing it out with his boot. "All this hanging of rats is making me thirsty."

He headed down the wooden steps along with his fellow gunmen, behind them the thief was left to choke on his own blood as he was slowly suffocating to death.

"We should really build that thing higher, Gene." Mike, who was watching from further away. Leaning against a parlour.

"Time's a precious thing. Best not to waste it." Eugene said, with a slight chuckle at the irony of his statement. "Where's Hugh?"

"Guarding the armory near your office, as usual." Thomas replied.

"Good." The leader nodded, his eyes fell onto the town's bar. An old one which was recently renovated. Awaiting them was a girl, dressed in a bartender's outfit. Wiping a cup with a dirty rag, hair tied in a french bun. Her green eyes focused on them as they sat right at the countertop. Eugene and Grayson both looked eager for their drinks, Thomas tapped his fingers on the hardwood impatiently as Mike lit one of his cigars the gang's newfound wealth bought them.

"Mornin' boys. What'll it be today?" She asked.

"The usual. I'll have brandy, Grayson and Thomas will have vodka, Mike will have root beer." Eugene placed a small gold nugget on the countertop. The barista took it and quickly dispensed the ordered drinks with a bright smile on her face. All eight thirsty eyes of the gunmen were on her as she turned around and placed their beverages gently onto the table.

"All for you, gentlemen." The girl proudly said. Eugene smiled back. "You know the procedure, bartender."

She nodded accordingly, taking a sip out of all four cups. Nothing happened after a few moments. After that, the gunslingers all relished in their drinks. The barista poured herself a cup of root beer, not wanting to end up drunk in the presence of four of the five men holding her town hostage. Not to mention some of the mine guards they hired for guarding the workers, some were even former townsfolk holding their own at gunpoint.

"Some bastard stole a few gold bits earlier today." Eugene told the girl.

"Is that so?" She asked.

"Yup, hanged the coward just a few minutes ago." He boasted with pride. "We're actually stringing him up at the church. That should teach the others that actions have consequences. Sometimes a bullet's all you need to get it through their thick skull."

"Would really stink up the town a bit." The girl replied.

"This dump already smells as bad as it does, a rotting body can't do nothing." Thomas said. Taking another large sip of his vodka. "We've been here what, five years? I'm getting sick of this place as is."

"Are you suggesting a departure from the gang, Thomas?" His leader turned to look him in the eye.

"Wha-? He said nothing about that Gene." Mike attempted to intervene.

"You hate this place, don'tcha? You hate someplace, you wanna leave. Simply detective work." Eugene accused. Ignoring Mike.

"To hell with that logic, I swore my loyalty to you." Thomas shot back. "Question an oath like that, I can question anything."

The barista made no attempt to mediate, choosing to back off as the two began to argue. As did Grayson. Mike however, tried to cool down the situation,

"That's enough, Gene. Thomas said nothing wrong." He interjected. The leader just swung about and re-directed the finger at him instead.

"You yellow-bellied coward, don't think I don't know that you've been thinking of leaving this gang either." He aggressively claimed.

"So what? I can't have my own opinion? Like how I don't kill kids?" Bringing up the murder of the mayor's family earned Mike a firm punch on the nose.

"Oh my God!" The girl exclaimed. "That's enough of that! Not in my bar you don't!" She shouted.

"So what? I'm the sheriff of this shithole, my word is law!" Eugene yelled. "No barmaid nor insubordinate fool's gonna change that!"

Just then, the doors to the saloon slowly creaked open. All five occupants of the bar focused their attention directly to the boy at the door. The sun casted a silhouette as he entered, his boot spurs jingling with each step. The gang members shielded their eyes from the bright sun as the saloon doors closed.

"I was told I could meet the Sheriff here?" The boy asked, removing his hat and placing it on a nearby coat hanger.

"You're looking at the Sheriff, boy." Eugene said. "You must be that kid Hugh was talking about."

"Place doesn't look like much of a mine." The boy commented.

"Well, the mine's actually further down that way." Thomas pointed southwest of the town. "This here's just where the labourers go to rest.

"Interesting." The recently arrived guest said.

"How's about you join us and our merry little band, boy." Eugege waved him over. The boy hesitantly obliged, heading over to the countertop.

"I'll have whatever here's not too strong." The boy said.

"Coming right up, sir." The barista replied. Quickly pouring one out for him.

"Thank you." Her newest customer said. Drinking alongside the Edwards Gang.

Some of the members curiously glanced over towards the young man. None more than Eugene.

"What's your story, bounty hunter?" Mike questioned.

"I needed money cause I had none." The boy replied after pausing to sip.

"Ha, I like this guy. Straight to the point, no bullshit or any of that." Thomas boasted, raising his drink.

The gang moved to a nearby table, as the boy stayed at the countertop. Slowly sipping his drink as the bartender looked at him curiously.

"Aren't you a little young to be a bounty hunter?" She asked. He looked up from his drink and chuckled slightly.

"Age doesn't matter when it comes to guns." The boy replied, handing her payment and a tip for her services. "It doesn't take a twenty year old to pour a drink."

"Hm, fair point." The girl shot back, pouring another drink for him.

As the afternoon dragged on, the Edwards Gang slowly began to head out of the saloon. Having to return from their break in order to continue enforcing their employer's will. Almost all of them left, except for Eugene. He stuck around, as the boy struck a match to smoke. Eugene's eyes almost never left the barista, who was leaning gently against a barrel full of drink. Occasionally, they drifted to the boy. He was managing himself nicely.

"Break's over now, you know." He said, empty shot glasses decorating his table.

"He's had to travel for quite a while it seems. He deserves his rest." The girl came to the newly arrived bounty hunter's defense. Eugene angrily scoffed and downed one last drink before leaving through the twin doors.

"Doesn't the sheriff need to enforce the town as well?" An elderly man came out from behind a door, with his walking stick and a hunched back.

"Y'all are and have always been on a thin string! Hear that and remember! Don't make me drill it into your heads!" The semi-drunken gang leader threatened without batting an eye towards him, kicking open the doors so hard that one of them even fell off their rusty hinges.