There we were: waking up in our own house after fending off that lousy lawman by accidentally shooting him to death. He stole our horse and Bryan almost mistakingly shot the beast, but he was spared. The lawman wasn't so lucky. As I already said. But then, lol and behold, there was a man approaching. He was peering about in a suspicious way, and was no doubt a spy from the police out to get us. After all, we were wanted men. We knocked him down and tied him up, planning to haul him off to Armidillo to purchase some bait; the bait of his fate. Unfortunately, our plan went horribly awry. Another fellow caught sight of us mistreating him, and called for the sheriff. We tried to shut him up, but two more folks rode by-- there were too many of them! Word got out, the lawmen arrived, and a chaotic shootout started to ensue. We dashed up the slope to our house and whistled for our horse, but... the horse did not come. We whistled again, and a different horse appeared. What was happening? Where was our true horse? We evaded the cops and our worst fears were confirmed:
The horse with no name was dead.
Rage and sorrow boiling to the surface, we murdered all three lawmen with swift retribution. Now hike the heated desert with nary a friend in sight, man or beast. Our new horse will not leave us be, but we are unstable and unready to accept a new steed just yet. Maybe we'll find a new one back at town, but it'll be hard to replace the sturdy, trusting figure that was our tamed stallion. And we promise our dead horse...
REVENGE.
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